#me sitting here like: oh will my sweet summer child

[fenixburnedmoved]

@legionscall gets a starter ( for Lark ) ❤️

The door opens and panic rises in him, Will can feel it waking the stone underneath fragile human skin. The anger comes with it, mostly anger at themself and their carelessness that got them here. What an idiot he'd been, wandering through this country and hoping to find peace. They hadn't even bothered with using a fake name, still underestimating how far the stories about the goyl had spread by now.

"I already tried to tell the others - I'm useless. There's nothing I could tell you, if that's why you came."

#legionscall #❈ ┆ will reckless . ic #hope this works!! <33 #me sitting here like: oh will my sweet summer child

[joelscruff]

feelings on fire (joel miller x f!reader) 18+ PART NINE

previous chapters | welp. hey everybody, it's been a little while since this updated, huh? those who follow me will know i haven't been having the best time lately and had to put this fic on hold for a little bit. but finally an update is here, and i'm so excited to share it with you. thank you so much for being so patient and lovely. i also wanna give a huge shoutout to han @swiftispunk who's been there for me relentlessly throughout this rough period and who kept encouraging me whenever i thought this would never get written. i couldn't ask for a better writing buddy & friend, ilysm. i hope you guys like this chapter and here's my kofi if you'd like to leave a tip 💕 chapter summary: joel is taking you away for the weekend, which only means one thing: your v card is going bye-bye. rating: 18+ explicit warnings for this chapter: age difference (joel is in his 50s, reader is in her early 20s), innocent/inexperienced reader, loss of virginity, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, dirty talk, praise kink, size kink, tummy bulge, oral (f receiving), catholic guilt, panic attacks, phone sex, mutual masturbation, lap sitting, lingerie, fingering, there is so much goin on pls lmk if i forgot smth word count: 25k (what the fuck) ao3

It's crazy how one weekend can change everything.

After days of feeling like shit and wanting - or forcing yourself to want - absolutely nothing to do with Joel anymore, you'd wound up naked in bed together. An ironic twist to the men ain't shit mantra you and Tasha had been trying to live by for the past forty eight hours. You'd laid with your head on his chest, exhausted and sated, listening to his and your own equally haggard breathing slow to a quiet thrum of background noise. You'd kissed the spot above his nipple, soft and warm against your lips as he carded his fingers through your hair and peppered kisses all along the crown of your head.

"So you're taking me away, huh?" you'd asked him in the heavenly afterglow of your orgasms, still tangled together under the sheets.

He'd smiled sleepily, squeezed you tighter in his arms and pulled you in as close as he could, "I'm takin' you away," he'd promised quietly, "Just you n' me. Gonna make this right."

Unbeknownst to him, everything had already become right again the moment he'd walked through the bedroom door.

Tasha had come back about an hour after you'd finished, roused you both from a quick nap by knocking quietly at the door and saying, "Hate to bother you guys but we gotta be out of here by four and the place is a disaster." Looking down at the mascara stained pillowcase beneath your head, you'd known she was right.

A few hours later you'd stood at the airport once again, arms wrapped tightly around Tasha as you buried your face in her shoulder and thanked her over and over again for everything; for being there, for listening, for understanding, for texting Joel, everything.

"You're gonna make me cry," she'd mumbled in your ear, hugging you back just as tightly, "Please, I just did what a good friend does."

You'd hoped she knew that she's the first good friend you've ever had.

Just before she'd headed to her gate, she'd pulled something out of her purse and handed it to you discreetly, palm down. You'd glanced downward to see a little blue package, thin and rectangular.

"Start taking these tonight," she'd said softly, "Take one every day at the same time. Promise me."

"What is it?"

She'd rolled her eyes, "Oh, you sweet summer child."

--

You know what birth control is. You're not that clueless. You just.... haven't really seen it before.

Now, having a pack of it in your possession, in your bedroom of all places, hidden in one of your dresser drawers beneath socks and underwear... it somehow feels more scandalous than the bikini. More scandalous than Joel's flannel beneath your mattress. More scandalous than those short little dresses folded in a bag in the back of your closet.

Birth control means sex. If your parents found your clothing purchases or Joel's flannel you could probably get away with some kind of lie, an excuse. But if they found this.... you don't even want to think about what would happen.

Take one every day at the same time. Promise me.

You pop out a pill quickly before shoving the package back into your dresser, then hurry to the bathroom with it tucked in your palm, clasped tightly between your fingers. You take it quickly with a handful of water and then stare at your reflection in the mirror for a moment, eyes bright. You're expecting to feel an ounce of shame, some guilt creeping in - but you don't. Instead, you find yourself smiling, face going hot when you think about the reason why you're taking these in the first place.

"Dinner's ready!" you hear your mom call from downstairs, and you yank yourself away from the bathroom mirror before your thoughts can get any more X rated.

She hadn't said anything to you when you got home, but then again you hadn't really given her a chance to. Now you shuffle into the kitchen and take a seat at the table, eyeing her quietly and wondering if the silent treatment is over. Your father comes in from the living room before you can find out, taking his usual seat and giving you a stern look.

"I heard you spent the weekend with one of your college friends," he states.

You stare at him for a second, unsure what to really say. You settle for a shrug, "Uh, yeah. Just had a girls' weekend at an Airbnb."

"I'm just curious why you're making time for friends you'll be seeing again in September when there are people here you've barely even said hello to," he raises an eyebrow, squaring his shoulders, "You said the other week you'd be volunteering again, didn't you? Doing more things to better yourself?"

"Well, I helped out at Sunday School," you offer with a grimace, but you already know it's not enough.

"I'm not talking about helping out here and there every now and then," he shakes his head and eyes your mother as she walks over with two plates of dinner, places them in front of the both of you without making eye contact, "You need a weekly activity, something steady, right dear?"

Your mother's gaze flits to yours quickly as he says this and you know exactly what she's thinking without her having to say it: do not mention the guitar lessons. But what the fuck are you supposed to say? You get that she doesn't want your father knowing until your little "plan" has bore a little more fruit, but it isn't fair that he still thinks you need some kind of weekly activity to attend when you already have one. Or, at least, a cover for one.

Maybe your mother can solve this problem for you.

"Well, actually-" you begin, only bluffing, but she bangs the water jug on the table before you can continue.

"I'll work on it with her, don't worry," she says quickly, shaking her head at you as discreetly as she can, "We'll figure something out together."

As usual, your father is oblivious to anything amiss. He just nods and extends his hands to start the prayer, "Sounds good."

Dinner is the usual boring affair, barely any conversation to be had as your father scarfs it down and heads to his office, leaving you and your mother sitting at the table in silence. You poke absentmindedly at your broccoli, thinking about Joel - he wants to see you again tonight, maybe talk about some stuff, and you're not really sure how to feel about it yet; you want to know more about his ex wife, his daughter, want to understand him and his life a little better, but it also scares you a bit. Hearing about his relationship with another woman - a woman who clearly still has a prominent position in his life - it's gonna be a lot to take in.

He also wants to talk about taking you away - a much less scary thought.

"So, you had a good weekend?" your mom asks quietly, and you look up in surprise - you'd thought the silent treatment was still ongoing.

"Yeah, it was nice," you reply - simplistic and not a very true answer, but it's not like you can tell her about anything that happened.

"What did you do?"

You shrug again, "Just watched movies and hung out, talked about how our summers have been going," you take a bite of broccoli and hope she won't press it any further.

"Did you go to your lesson on Saturday?"

You nod quickly, swallowing and doing your best to keep eye contact, "Yep, I learned some new chords." Bullshit. "Mr. Miller is a really good teacher." Less bullshit.

She doesn't say anything else right away and you manage to completely finish your meal before she drops her fork and turns to you with a sigh. "I know what you're thinking and no, I still haven't told your father about it. I already explained why-"

"Because you don't want him getting involved before I've made progress, I know."

"So have you? Been making progress?"

Oh, the things you could say in response to that question. "I think I have. He's, um... he's been very interested in the hymns."

"Which ones are you learning?"

Oh fuck.

"It's a surprise," you say quickly, flashing her a fake smile, "Don't wanna jinx it, ya know?"

Her brows furrow but she doesn't question it, nodding slowly and taking a deep breath as she grabs both your plates and walks to the sink. You sit there for a moment, not wanting to get up until you know for sure the conversation is over.

"So it's working, you think?" she finally asks, turning on the tap and rinsing the dishes, "You're helpin' him?"

You swallow, thankful she's not looking at you as your hands ball into fists against the wood of the table, "Yes," you lie quietly, "Definitely."

--

"You need to teach me a hymn," is the first thing you say to Joel that night as you walk through his front door, passing right by him without so much as a hug, "Or two. Two hymns, maybe three, I don't know."

"Hello to you too," he says with a chuckle, shutting the door and walking over to you to wrap his arms around you from behind, "S'wrong? You alright?"

You have to admit, being wrapped in his arms certainly does make the anxiety ebb away. You close your eyes and lean back into his grasp, sighing deeply and trying to ground yourself as best you can. Ever since that conversation with your mother you feel like your brain has been working on overdrive, reminding you over and over that you're so fucking behind on what you're meant to be doing to keep this façade intact.

"I'm just stressed," you mutter, "My mom asked about the lessons and I didn't know what to say and now I'm all up in my own head again as usual."

You feel him tuck his head against your shoulder, squeeze you tighter, "Hey, it's okay," he murmurs, breath so warm against your ear it makes you shiver, "We'll find a couple easy ones and I'll teach you. You can borrow my guitar too, practice at home."

"My dad still doesn't know," you sigh, "She's waiting for me to have some sort of breakthrough with you to tell him."

He snorts, "And what exactly does this 'breakthrough' look like?"

"I don't know, a pool of golden light? Heavenly angels singing praise?"

He chuckles against your skin, pressing a kiss there, "Well, that'll be easy. That happens every time I make you come."

You feel your cheeks bloom with heat, lips tightening into a bashful smile as he pulls you in closer and noses your ear once again, scruff tickling the skin there. You hum contentedly, pretending for a moment that your parents aren't involved on the sidelines of this relationship, that their opinions don't matter and there doesn't need to be any sort of ulterior reason for your being here - then you remember that you're going to have a whole weekend to pretend that's the case, and you smile wider.

You turn in his arms, wrapping your own around his torso and peering up at him. He's so handsome as usual, hair messy, eyes brown and deep. It's impossible not to lean up and press a soft kiss to his lips, so of course you do, eyes closing as you melt against his mouth. He kisses you back just as soft, rubs your back gently as he holds you close.

"I'm so sorry, angel," he murmurs quietly against your lips, and you find yourself pulling away to look at him in confusion.

"For what?"

He shakes his head, eyes sad, "For everythin' I put you through this weekend, all that added stress," you go to interrupt but he brings one of his hands up to gently press his finger to your lips, stopping you, "Don't tell me not to apologize. I did wrong by you. I wanna fix it."

You swallow, remembering the woman at the bar - his ex wife, remembering the way he'd smiled before he kissed her, the way those soft brown eyes looking at you right now had looked directly into hers as well...

Your stomach twists uncomfortably.

"I meant what I said, about tellin' you everything," he murmurs, "I want... I want you to know me, ya know? I..." he breathes deeply, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against yours, "God, I'm not good at this."

"Good at what?" you whisper, and you feel him shrug in your embrace.

"Just.... bein' open."

You pull back a bit to peer at him again, feeling your stomach unclench when you see that unsure look on his face, the worry lines prominent on his forehead and those plump lips downturned into a frown. He's still afraid he's lost you, you can tell.

"Well, I wanna hear what you have to say," you murmur, "I do wanna learn more about you. But it's okay, Joel. I'm not heartbroken, not anymore."

He winces at your words, "But you were," he closes his eyes again, "You were heartbroken, baby. I hurt you. We... she -" he cuts himself off to sigh, "She didn't know about you when she kissed me, alright? I hadn't told her, and that's on me."

Oh. You didn't know that.

"Why... why didn't you tell her?"

"Because I was a coward," he says immediately, "I didn't... I wasn't..." he takes another deep breath and pulls away from you, unlocking himself from your embrace to grip your arms in both his hands, "Okay," he breathes, "I'm really bad at this, darlin', forgive me if it comes out weird."

You're not sure what he's about to say but you can feel your heart beginning to beat faster in your chest as he stands there looking at you, brow furrowed as if he's completely out of his element, and you suppose he is.

"I haven't... god, I don't wanna scare you but..." he chews his lip for a moment, lost in thought, "I just... I meant it, when I said that I think about you all the time. I really, really meant it."

You stare at him for a moment, processing his words. What is he saying? That he didn't tell his ex wife about you because of how much he thinks about you? How does that make sense? You silently curse yourself for your naivety, your inexperience with relationships. You're sure if Tasha was here she'd be able to tell you exactly what he means.

You're about to ask him to elaborate when you suddenly catch a glimpse of something on the mantel of the fireplace, something that you can't recall ever seeing before. Your eyes go slightly wide and he notices immediately, following your gaze.

"Oh," he says quietly, "Um, yeah, I... I put up some pictures."

His grip on your arms releases when he realizes you want to get a closer look. You make your way over to the fireplace with careful steps, eyeing the framed photograph in front of you as it slowly comes more into focus.

It's Joel - a much younger Joel. You're not sure how young, but there are no signs of age on his face, skin smooth and bare and hair trimmed neatly beneath a baseball cap. He's standing behind a swing, pushing an adorable little toddler in front of him, a big smile on her face as she kicks her chubby legs high into the air.

You stare at it for a long time without saying anything, warmth bursting through your chest the longer your gaze flicks from him to the baby, the baby to him. There's something in her brown eyes, something recognizable, and you realize it's because they're his eyes.

You're looking at his daughter.

"What's her name?" you finally ask, voice soft.

"Sarah," he replies - he sounds close behind you but he doesn't touch you, doesn't make any move to embrace you again, just lets you absorb the information in your own time.

"Sarah," you repeat quietly, thoughtfully, "How old is she there?"

"Few days before her second birthday," he says, and you swear you can hear the hint of a smile in his voice, "Installed that swing set in the backyard for her as a present, but I couldn't wait 'til her birthday to show her - I was too excited."

You smile at his words, feeling fondness flood your thoughts as your gaze falls back to the much younger Joel. He looks a little like the boys you've seen at college, extremely handsome but inexperienced, naïve, maybe even a little lost... kind of like you. You squint your eyes a bit, as if staring at him will help you figure out exactly how old he is.

"I'm twenty in that one," he answers for you.

Your eyebrows shoot up and you finally turn around to look at him, a look of shock prominent on your face. "But... that would mean you had her -"

"When I was eighteen, yeah," he gives you a wistful half smile, "Remember that 'trouble' I told you I got in right outta high school? The mysterious thing I did that got me disowned?" he gestures toward the photo with a light chuckle, "Well, there she is. Little Miss Trouble, Sarah Miller."

Your brow furrows. You remember what he'd said on his back deck that day, the way he'd stopped himself from revealing too much. He'd been so close to telling you, and yet...

"Why didn't you just tell me then?" you ask softly, "That day in your backyard, you... you coulda told me about her."

His smile fades into a frown, eyes going downcast, "I was afraid," he admits softly, "I didn't... I didn't want this to end so soon. I didn't wanna scare you off."

You feel a pang in your heart, a sensation of sadness that bubbles up within you as you peer at his melancholic expression, the shame in his eyes. He really thinks you're five seconds away from running out the door, leaving his life for good and forgetting this whole thing between the two of you even happened. You can see it in his expression, the way he's standing like he's small, the same way he'd looked last night when Tasha had tugged you out of his house and into a cab.

You make your way toward him, palm outstretched as you reach up and press it to the side of his face. His gaze comes up to meet yours, watery and sad and - god, he's beautiful. So, so beautiful.

"I'm not going anywhere," you whisper honestly, shaking your head and smiling softly, "Not before you teach me at least two hymns."

His frown breaks into a grin and he rolls his eyes, the tears spilling over a little bit as he sniffs and tries to pull himself together. You just bring your other hand up to fully cup his face, turning his head so he's looking directly into your eyes.

"I mean it, Joel," you breathe, and you think you're starting to understand what he meant, "You say you think about me all the time, but... I think about you all the time. I can't stop thinking about you," your voice quivers a bit and you feel tears begin to sting in your own eyes, "Even when I was trying to force myself not to think about you, I couldn't do it."

You thumb his cheeks lightly, feeling them tighten under your palms as he smiles again. You can't help but lean forward to brush your nose against his, closing your eyes.

"I think... I don't know, I just feel like-"

"I know," he interjects softly, "I feel it too, angel. Scares the hell outta me, doesn't even seem possible to feel it after such a short length of time, but I do."

You open your eyes to peer at him again, "Is that why you didn't tell her? 'Cause you were scared of how you feel?"

"Yes," he murmurs, "I knew if I told her... if I let myself really feel what I've been feelin'... I'd have to face the fact that I'd been dishonest with you, that I hadn't been showin' you my true self, ya know? And that's... that's always been hard for me." He takes a breath, "She was real sad that night. She... she was comin' on strong, cause she really needed somebody. And I almost gave myself to her, you should know that. I don't wanna lie to you."

It hurts to hear it, but at the same time you're glad he's telling you, glad he feels safe to express himself the same way you do with him.

"We weren't... we weren't official or anything," you mumble, eyes casting downward.

"No, we weren't," he agrees softly, "But it still wouldn't've been right, angel, not for you and not for me. I didn't want it, I just... I just felt for her, ya know? We've been doin' this thing so long, it can be hard to say no, especially when it's someone you care about."

"But you did."

He nods, "I did. And then I told her about you and she understood."

You peer up at him again, unsure, "She understood? Really?"

He smiles, "She understood, sweetheart. She's a good person, I promise. But I also promise that I don't feel things for her the way I used to, not anymore. And our arrangement is over." He blinks away a few tears, locking his eyes with yours again, "Do you believe me?"

You nod slowly, taking in his words. You find that you do believe him, don't even question a word of what he's saying to you. It should probably scare you to trust him this much, to wholeheartedly sense nothing but earnestness from his demeanor and words, but it doesn't. It feels good to hear him say these things and to know that he means it, that he's finally being himself.

"So who are you then, really?" you ask softly, "Who's this whole other Joel Miller I've been missing out on?"

He laughs lightly, bumping his nose against yours, "Well, darlin'... he's old and he's boring, keeps to himself, works too much..." he takes a breath, then meets your gaze again, eyes soft and tender, "And he's fuckin' crazy about you."

His words embed themselves into your brain almost immediately, sending tingles up and down your spine as your arms come up to wrap around him and pull him into a kiss. He seems surprised by your response but only for a moment, then wraps his own arms around you and pulls you in as close as he can, cradles you as he kisses you back with that familiar warmth and safety you've always felt with him.

He's fuckin' crazy about you.

You find yourself moving the two of you toward the couch and he lets you, your legs tangling together as you shuffle over to it. You slowly settle onto it together, him sitting pretty beneath you while you situate yourself in his lap, a leg on either side of his thighs. You don't stop kissing him, whimpering softly into his mouth when his hand stills firmly on your back, holding you close.

"What're you doin', babygirl?" he breathes against your lips, voice dark and husky - he already knows the answer.

You don't reply, just deepen the kiss and grind yourself down into his crotch, feeling his already half hard cock press against you through your shorts. You whimper again, pulling back to look at him through lidded eyes.

"Huh?" he asks softly, his own eyes already dark and unfocused, "What're you doin', sweetheart? What d'you need?" He bucks his hips up with his words and you gasp, clinging to him tightly and resting your head on his shoulder. "Need my cock, don't you, baby?"

You nod even though he can't see you, close your eyes and whisper, "I need it so bad."

"Need it deep inside, huh?"

You swallow and shiver, grinding down against him again in response. He holds you firm in his lap and brings his lips to your ear, trails his fingers up and down your back.

"I'm gonna give it to you, baby, I promise," he murmurs, voice gravelly and low, "Gonna fill you up so good, have you cryin' on it."

You whimper again, squeezing your eyes tighter and imagining how it'll feel to have his enormous size spreading your insides, pushing into the deepest parts of you. It's almost too much to bear, too much to imagine as you whine into his shoulder. You want it now, but you also know that now isn't the right time.

"I- I started taking birth control," you whisper, clinging to him tighter.

He seems to freeze beneath you for a moment, and then his hands move down to squeeze your ass, drag you slowly down the length of him - now fully hard - as you whine again.

"Good girl," he whispers, pinning you to his cock through his jeans, "That's- fuck, you're such a good girl."

You keen at his praise, whimpering into his shoulder as he drags you back and forth along his cock, the denim rough against your bare thighs. You think about what you'd both done together earlier today, the way it felt to have his entire length thrusting through your folds, the head catching on your hole every so often. The way it felt to have the wide tip pressed just enough inside of you, warm and pulsing.

"Take it out, please," you moan softly, pulling back to look at him again, "Wanna feel it. Please, Joel."

He groans at your words, nods quickly and adjusts you carefully in his lap so he can tug down his zipper. You watch as he reaches inside and pulls himself out, and your mouth immediately begins to water as soon as you catch sight of the dark tip, already wet and leaking. Without any hesitation at all your hand moves downward to wrap around his shaft, holding it in your palm.

"This was inside me," you whisper, the words sounding wonderfully filthy in your mouth as your thumb traces his throbbing tip, remembering how it had felt pushing against you.

"Yeah, it was," he murmurs. He's watching you closely, looking up at you with a lustful expression as you touch him, "Felt so good inside you, baby. Wanted to push all the way in so bad, fill you up."

You shiver, "Why didn't you?"

"'Cause I wanna take my time with you, angel. Wanna fuck you slow, get you used to it," he groans when you start to slowly stroke him up and down, eyes not leaving where you're touching him, "Gonna have you beggin' for it."

Without much thought you reach down and start to tug pathetically at your shorts, wanting them off. The angle is awkward and you can't move them properly, something which he notices right away, eyebrows going up.

"You wanna rub on it again, sweetheart?" he asks, his hands going immediately to your waistband.

You nod furiously, desperate whimpers escaping your lips as he eases you up a bit to pull them down. You bend your legs to accommodate his movements, lifting from his lap for just a moment as he tugs down both your shorts and panties, leaving you bare. He wastes no time in pulling you back down again, both of you letting out simultaneous gasps as his cock slips perfectly against your center, wet and waiting.

"Joel," you whine, burying your face in his shoulder and letting him begin to drag you back and forth on his cock again without any clothes in the way. It feels so fucking good, both of your most intimate parts touching and rubbing in sweet and filthy harmony while you cry into his shirt. One of his hands snakes up your back, holds you firm again as he helps you move.

"That's my perfect angel," he murmurs in your ear, voice shaky, "Thaaaat's my pretty girl, so wet for me. Always so fuckin' wet."

"Can't help it," you sob into his shoulder, feeling your stomach tighten every time his warm cock rubs up against your clit, "Can't help it, Joel, feels so good. You make me feel so good."

"I know," he moans in your ear, "I know I do, baby, I know."

It doesn't take long at all for your orgasm to hit you, a high pitched whine clawing its way out of your throat as you frantically grind against his cock and then still as the waves of pleasure wash over you. He rubs your back, holds you close, lets you feel all of it before pressing a finger to your chin and gently turning your face to look at him.

"Yep," he breathes, assessing your expression, "there's that pool of golden light. Heavenly angels singin' praise. You hear 'em?"

You laugh shakily, still overwhelmed at the feeling of his cock continuing to pulse against your pussy. He keeps holding you there without moving, letting you come down from your high, allowing the moment to stay soft and peaceful as he watches your face. Your eyes are tired - you're still not fully recovered from your busy weekend and he can tell.

"You look sleepy, babygirl," he murmurs softly, "Want me to carry you up?"

You shake your head quickly, "No, I still gotta make you come. Just gimme a minute."

He chuckles, "You don't gotta do anything, honey. You know that right? Need you to know that you don't owe me anythin', not ever."

He really is too considerate for his own good, but there's absolutely no way you're gonna leave him hanging like that. With a sly smile you shake your head again and lift your hips up a bit, bringing your hand down to wrap around his cock again. His jaw goes slack, eyes still staring into yours as you start to stroke him again.

"I wanna make you come," you correct yourself, leaning forward to press a tiny kiss to the corner of his mouth, "I want..." you drop your gaze bashfully, trying to let the dirty talk flow naturally like his does as you play with his cock, "I want you to make a mess on me."

"On you?" he asks, clearly surprised by your sudden boldness, "Where, baby? Where d'you want me to make a mess?"

With your other hand - slightly trembling - you pull your shirt up and palm the swell of your belly, just above your mound. He groans, low and lustful.

"On your tummy, baby?" he murmurs, "You want me to get your tummy all messy with my cum?"

You nod, biting down on your lip and pumping his cock faster, eyes coming back up to meet his gaze again as you get him off.

"Want it to drip down onto your pussy, huh?" he continues, brows drawing together in pleasure, "'Cause that's where it belongs, doesn't it?"

You nod again, "It does, Joel," you whisper, "It belongs there."

"You want me to come inside you this weekend, babygirl?" his voice is strained, so close to edge and you moan at his words, eyes still locked onto his, "Yeah, you do, don't you?"

"I do," you whimper, the truth stumbling from your lips before you can even really process it, "I want it so bad, Joel. Want you to fill me up."

With one last groan his eyes roll back and he starts to come all over your stomach, exactly where you'd wanted him to. Holding him in your hand while he comes is a brand new experience - his cock pulses and twitches within your grasp as he makes a strangled noise and brings his hand up to cover his face, overwhelmed by the sensation. You bite down on your lip and watch as his cum paints your skin in thick spurts, warm and thick.

"Fuck," he finally mutters after a moment of heavy breathing, bringing his hand down from his face to look at you again with a sated expression, "You're filthy, baby."

You feel your cheeks warm, eyes going down to where his cum drips down your belly. His gaze follows yours and he smirks, reaching forward to carefully thumb a bit that's trailing dangerously close to your pussy and pushing it up and away from where it shouldn't go - yet, anyway.

"In more ways than one," he murmurs softly, then meets your gaze again. Despite the depraved circumstances you still can't help but feel shy, head tilting away from him as you smile sheepishly and slip out of his lap, pretending not to hear the embarrassingly loud squelch of wet skin against wet skin. You see him grin in the corner of your eye, clearly still fond of your bashfulness.

"I'm gonna need a shower," you say shyly, eyeing your discarded shorts on the floor.

"Go shower, darlin'," he says, still seated on the couch with his legs open and his softening cock peeking through the open zipper of his jeans, "I'll get my bed all comfy for you."

At the mention of his bed you find a little bit of the anxiety from earlier return in the pit of your stomach, twisting uncomfortably. He notices your reaction immediately, a frown settling into his features as he assesses your expression.

"What is it?"

You avoid eye contact, biting your lip and awkwardly tugging your shirt down over your thighs so you're less exposed, "Um, I know nothing happened, I know you didn't... but um, did..." you grimace, "Did she..."

He stands up immediately, tugging his zipper as he goes and reaching you in a single stride, arms coming up to touch your shoulders. You look up and see him shaking his head, brown eyes softly searching yours.

"She wasn't in my bed, honey," he murmurs quietly, "I promise."

The anxiety settles, and you believe him.

--

You cuddle together in bed for a while after your shower, not really talking but just basking in the feeling of being together again after such a shitshow of a weekend. You're warm and comfy in one of Joel's band t-shirts while he lays beside you, spooning you from behind and pressing soft kisses to the exposed part of your neck every so often, his bare legs tangled with yours beneath the sheets.

Part of you still wants answers, wants to learn more about his relationship with his ex, but another part of you doesn't feel ready yet, doesn't want to ask those questions or face those truths. Your mind is running a mile a minute as you lay there without saying anything, brow furrowed as you weigh the pros and cons in your head.

"D'you wanna talk about it, angel?" Joel finally asks, almost like he can sense exactly what you're feeling, his arms tightening around you. Your eyes close and you sigh deeply, squishing the side of your face into his pillow.

"Talk about what?" you mumble, but he's not buying it.

"I know you have questions," he murmurs, kissing the back of your neck again - grounding you, reminding you that it's okay to be yourself here, "There must be a thousand flyin' around that beautiful head o'yours. And I want you to ask 'em."

You sigh again, quieter this time. He squeezes you and reaches up to pull some of your hair back from your cheek and push it behind your ear, stroking it gently. He presses a small kiss there and noses the space beneath.

"You still feel safe with me, right?" he whispers.

At his words you immediately turn in his embrace, a look of shock forming on your face, "Of course I do," you breathe, "Joel, I've never felt safer with anyone than I do with you."

"Okay, okay, just checkin'," he smiles at you, eyes soft and sleepy, "You just seem... somewhere else. And I know why," his smile turns sad again, "And I hate that you're feelin' this way, darlin'. What can I do?"

You shake your head and reach your hand up to palm the side of his face, thumb stroking his cheek tenderly, "You... you can tell me where it is you're taking me this weekend." It's a cop-out and you both know it, but as usual he doesn't push it - you'll talk about your feelings in your own time.

He turns his head and kisses the palm of your hand gently, "Dallas," he murmurs, "Hotel room's booked."

Your eyebrows shoot up, "Dallas? But that's hours away, isn't it?"

"About three or so," he shrugs, "You ever been?"

"Couple times when I was a kid. Why Dallas?"

His arms tighten around you and he leans forward to lightly brush his nose against yours, "I told you, I wanna take you away. Not just twenty minutes or an hour; I want you to forget about all the shit you're dealin' with here for a little while," he kisses the tip of your nose gently, "What better place to do that than another city?"

The thought makes you smile. He's right; getting as far away from your parents as possible definitely sounds like a more than appealing opportunity. You've been to Dallas before but not since you were a kid, experiences that have pretty much clouded over at this point, what with all the restrictive rules you'd had to face.

"I feel bad..." you suddenly whisper.

His expression falters, "Why, baby?"

"'Cause what if I don't wanna leave the hotel room?" You smile slyly and his grin comes back in full force as he pulls you closer, presses loud kisses along the side of your face as you giggle.

"Who said anything about leavin' the hotel room?" he chuckles, then reaches over you to grab his phone from the night stand, "Plus..." he scrolls through it for a few seconds then turns it to face you, "There may be a more specific reason I chose Dallas."

You peer at his phone, see the image of a poster staring back at you: DALLAS GOSPEL MUSIC FESTIVAL. The dates correlate to this upcoming weekend. Your jaw drops, eyes going wide as you turn back to his suddenly cocky expression - he's beyond proud of himself.

"Joel Miller," you gasp with a grin, slapping his arm playfully, "you're worse than me."

--

"So the whole thing just sounds really cool," you lie to your mother the following day, showing her the poster for the festival you'd printed out, "They're also doing group worship in the mornings and there's some other events happening between the shows, like bible trivia." Kill me now.

She raises an eyebrow, assessing it further, "It's an awfully long drive to Dallas on your own..."

"I like driving, it's peaceful."

"And aren't festivals known to have drugs?"

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, "It's gospel, Mom. I don't think anyone'll be handing out drugs. Plus," you point to the little anti-drug symbol in the corner of the poster, "it's not allowed, see?"

She still looks skeptical, bringing her gaze from the poster to your face, "But you've never wanted to go to something like this before. Why now?"

"I'm just-" you smile as earnestly as you can, "I'm really enjoying my lessons with Mr. Miller. I'd like to go see some professionals perform, get inspired, that kinda thing. I think it'll help me with my technique." Technique, sure. Not as if you've played his guitar more than once at this point.

She grimaces, "It seems an awfully big thing to keep from your father..."

And whose fault is that? "You could tell him I'm visiting another one of my friends?"

She nods slowly, thoughtfully, turning her head to look down at the poster again.

You hate this. You hate how much you're lying. You hate how much she's lying. But more than anything, you hate that you have to lie in the first place. You hate that you have to ask permission, as if you're not a grown adult woman with her own agency. None of this sneaking around and coming up with covers and excuses would even be necessary if your parents just allowed you to be yourself under their roof. The whole thing is so fucked.

"Promise you'll let me know when you get there, and text me every morning and night," she finally says, eyes meeting yours again, "And promise that you'll drive safely."

Relief floods through you, along with that all too familiar guilt, "I promise."

--

The rest of the week passes smoothly, albeit a little slow. Your mother gives your father some kind of excuse about this weekend that seems to appease him, something about a bible study group. You try not to think about how many stories you're weaving together at this point, all of them piling on top of each other and twisting and turning into even bigger and badder lies. It's truly becoming a giant mess, but all of that doesn't seem to matter whenever you think of Joel, of this weekend...

Communication with him is so different now - in the best way. No more short and brief responses, no more wondering what he's thinking or worrying he's no longer interested. You text every single day and talk on the phone in hushed whispers almost every night. You've noticed that he's able to call you earlier now, has stopped going to the bar after work with his crew, but you don't mention it to him. He hasn't been back since last weekend, something that makes you admittedly feel a bit of relief.

You text him on Wednesday afternoon from the parking lot of the grocery store - you've been helping your parents out a bit more now wherever you can, spending your days cleaning the house, doing chores, fulfilling to-do lists, etc. It's the least you can do for essentially stringing them along through the worst web of lies imaginable. This trip, however, you'd caught a glimpse of Bethany in the baking aisle and almost had a heart attack, rushing to the self checkout and scanning all your items before she'd gotten a chance to see you. You haven't spoken to her since the incident in the church bathroom and you don't intend to ever again if you can help it.

almost ran into bethany at the grocery store ahhh!!!! i hate this so much. just wanna leave already and forget about all these people :( miss you. hope your day's going better than mine 💕

You sigh to yourself as you pull out of the parking lot, but your sad demeanor is quickly replaced with a grin when you feel your phone vibrate in your lap. At a red light you look down at it, warmth flooding your cheeks.

Soon, angel. Two more days and it'll just be you and me. Can't wait to treat you the way you deserve. I know just the thing to make your day better, call me tonight x

That night he whispers filthy things in your ear while you finger yourself, face buried in your pillow, thumb rubbing furiously against your clit. Your face is hot and your lower half is bare against the sheets, sticky and soft. You're imagining how his cock will feel inside you, buried to the hilt, pulsing deep and wet and warm. The thought is almost too much to bear - you've been physically incapable of thinking of anything else lately.

"Wanna feel it in my stomach, Joel, just like you said," you whine into the pillow, tears stinging your eyes as your pleasure nears its peak. "Please, please."

"You will, babygirl," he gasps, voice low and shaky as he tugs at his cock and groans on the other line, "God you're such a good girl beggin' for it like that. Ask me again, honey, ask for my cock."

"Please, Joel," you try to keep your voice quiet but it's so hard, your fingers plunging in and out of yourself at the exact speed you wish he was fucking you, "Please, Mr. Miller. Please give me your cock."

He lets out another groan, "Oh god, baby, I'm so fuckin' close. Ask me for my cum, angel. Ask for it real pretty and polite."

His words send you over the edge as your hand stutters against your pussy and halts, your whole body trembling as you fall face forward onto the bed. Your skin ignites with even more heat as you shut your eyes tight and whisper, "Please gimme your cum, Joel. Want your cum."

You hear him inhale sharply and then exhale even louder, can almost see the white of his cum behind your lids, dripping all over his bare stomach. You can feel your own slick dripping down your inner thigh, staining your sheets. You wonder if your mom has noticed how often you've been changing your bedding lately, but part of you can't really bring yourself to care.

You try to imagine what it would be like for him to pump you full, for his release to leak out of you, what it would look like, feel like... The thought makes goosebumps rise all over your flesh, especially when you remember that he'd already asked if that's what you wanted. In the heat of the moment you'd said yes, and even now you find that you still do. You have been taking your little pill every day at the same time after all, a fact he's very much aware of.

You turn over in bed and snap a quick picture of your bare pussy, wet and used. It's the second time you've done it this week. You send it without saying anything and smile when you hear him groan again on the other line.

"Perfect little pussy," he whispers, and you can hear the pout in his expression.

"It's yours," you murmur sleepily, feeling yourself begin to drift as you bury your face in your pillow again, "It's all yours, Joel."

--

The only issue that inevitably pops up is the driving arrangement. To your parents knowledge you're traveling to Dallas alone, so leaving in your own car is a vital detail. You want to ride in Joel's truck though, but you're not sure it's feasible with the amount of eyes on you, the questions your parents will ask if your car stays in the driveway.

"That's easy to figure out, darlin'," Joel reassures you over the phone the next morning, "Lemme make a call to my brother, I'm pretty sure he's got a spot in a garage he ain't usin' right now."

You grimace at the thought of someone you don't know doing you a favor, "He won't mind?"

Joel snorts, "Tommy? Not at all, angel. Don't you worry."

You've only heard him talk about Tommy once, that day on his back deck when he'd told you about his upbringing. You'd been under the impression that they didn't have a very good relationship, what with being compared to each other their whole lives. Maybe you'd been wrong about it. You've certainly been wrong about a lot of things. You file it away as another question to ask once you finally work up the courage.

You have to admit, it feels really good to have someone take care of things like this, telling you not to worry, handling everything that's difficult. You've been carrying such a load of bullshit for your entire life and knowing that Joel's in charge this weekend just makes you feel safe. Protected. Cared for. You feel like you could ask him for anything and he'd somehow make it happen for you, something you've never really experienced before. Your parents have always been hesitant to spoil you despite their wealth, had rarely ever taken you on vacations that weren't undercut with the promise of learning or preaching. Your desires and needs have always taken a backseat to appearances, standards, bigger goals. You've never really felt you could ever relax with them, ask for things, be yourself.

It feels so fucking good to have Joel Miller.

Your parents have already left for the day when you climb into your car on Friday morning, tossing your travel bag in the backseat and switching on the ignition with a smile on your face. You and Joel have it all figured out - he'd talked to his brother and there's indeed a space for you to park your car in for the weekend. Joel surprised you even more by taking the day off, so you're meeting him at the garage in about an hour's time. Before then, though... you think another shopping trip is in order - for one specific item in particular.

--

The lingerie store doesn't seem as scary this time around. Last time you hadn't even been able to step foot inside, but this time you're more prepared, ready for the skimpy mannequins and uniquely shaped underwear. You're still not really exactly sure what you're looking for, but you don't panic this time when a salesclerk walks over to you with a smile and asks if she can help you. She's probably around your mom's age, something you're not sure makes you uncomfortable or not.

"Um, yeah," you say awkwardly, unable to make direct eye contact, "I was wondering if you have anything...um... like..." you try to find the words, heart beating a bit quicker in your chest, "Something cute? But sexy too, but, um, not too sexy, if that makes sense," you feel your cheeks warm as you babble, thinking of the spiked bras and crotchless panties you'd seen last time, "Just something not too crazy, something pretty but still... still sexy." God, how many times did you just say the word sexy?

The woman just smiles and nods without any ounce of judgement whatsoever, "I know just the thing, sweetie, follow me." Well, despite being around the same age, your mother would certainly never call you sweetie. She'd also never go lingerie shopping with you either; the very thought is laughable.

She leads you to a section full of floral themed sets, brightly colored and soft, lacy and delicate. Your eyes widen a bit at the selection, the options in shapes and sizes, colors and transparency, boy shorts and g strings. You have to admit that you could see yourself wearing pretty much anything here - it's right up your alley, and you're pretty sure it's Joel's preference as well.

"As you can see, we have a big range," the salesclerk says with another smile, "Some of them are more simple than others if that's what you're looking for," she picks up one of the sets, blue and frilly with little forget-me-nots embroidered over the nipples, "This one is very popular, and comfortable too, speaking from experience."

You nod, analyzing it carefully and trying your best not to picture the salesclerk wearing it, "Thanks, but I'll, uh, just have a look myself, if that's okay?"

"Of course!" she puts the set back down and tosses you one last smile, "Take your time, sweetie. Let me know if you need anything."

Being around your parents so much this summer has really messed with your psyche. You find it odd to encounter people like this, people your parents age, Joel's age, who clearly have no qualms about dressing sexually. It's almost the way you'd felt when you first got to college, the culture shock of taking ownership of your own body and doing what you want with it, not constantly wondering if you're going to go to hell for showing too much skin. It reminds you yet again of your own naivety, everything you've been missing up to this point.

But also... everything you're going to experience this weekend. That is why you're here, after all.

You end up picking out what you believe to be the prettiest set. It's white and transparent in certain places, edged in pink and covered in little embroidered flowers, purple and yellow and green. The bra has buttons in the center that you're not sure actually work or are just for show... though regardless, you imagine Joel slowly fingering them while you peer up from below on the hotel bed, a thought that makes your cheeks burn. The panties are cute and look easy to slip on and off but there's an odd third component, just as pretty with straps that lead to nothing. You furrow your brow, staring at it.

You could ask the salesclerk what it is but you really don't want to embarrass yourself. Instead you take a picture and send it in your group chat:

buying lingerie, what is this?? help!!

Of course, Tasha is the first to reply:

IT'S A GARTER BELT, BABE. HOLDS UP STOCKINGS IN A FUN SEXY WAY. SO BUY STOCKINGS. also that's cute as fuuuuck. ur gonna give the old man a heart attack

You stifle a laugh and shove your phone back in your pocket, picking up the entire set and walking to the cash. You grab a pair of sheer white stockings in your size and slip everything onto the counter, still avoiding eye contact as the salesclerk from before walks behind and starts ringing everything up.

"Find everything you were looking for, sweetie? Did you want to try any of this on before you purchase?"

You shake your head immediately, "No, that's okay." The thought of trying any of this stuff on in a public place is definitely still a little too much outside your comfort zone.

The clerk nods and turns the card reader to you with a smile, "That'll be a hundred and fifty eight dollars."

You're pretty sure you've never looked more shocked in your life.

why is being sexy so awkward and expensive?

welcome to my life sister

158 DOLLARS FOR 3 SCRAPS OF MATERIAL

that's it, let it all out

--

The garage Joel gave you the address for isn't too far from the mall, hidden down a few side streets where you feel confident your parents will never accidentally come across it. With a significantly emptier wallet, you pull into the parking lot and spot Joel's truck, smiling when you see him get out to wave you over. He's wearing one of your favorite flannels - green and black, similar to the one you keep under your mattress - and another band t-shirt underneath; you've lost track of how many he has at this point.

"There's my girl," he says as you pull up beside him with the window rolled down. He leans against your car, tips his head in to kiss you gently, "Find it okay? Directions were clear?"

You can't help but roll your eyes with a giggle, "I just typed it into the Maps app, Joel. Didn't need all the rights and lefts."

He chuckles, "Follow me, I'll show you where to park it."

You inch along behind him as he leads you into the relatively small parking garage and gestures to the right. There's an open spot between an RV trailer and a pick-up truck.

"Those are both Tommy's," he says with a sly smile, "So feel free to scratch 'em up if you want."

You roll your eyes again and carefully pull into the space, being sure to avoid any of the encouraged scratching. It's a comfortable fit and you grab your things from the backseat before climbing out to meet Joel behind your car.

"Hi," you say quietly, peering up at him with a soft smile, not caring that you already had your introduction a few minutes ago. All you can think about now is the time that stretches out in front of you, an entire weekend of just you and him.

"Hi, angel," he murmurs, and you feel his hands come up to squeeze your arms, pull you in close, "Ready to get outta here?" You nod excitedly and he gestures toward the garage entrance, "Then let's hit the road."

--

Three hours on the road passes much quicker than you thought it would. You remember road trips with your parents as a kid, traveling miles in random directions to witness supposed "miracles" or visit religious sites. Before he'd joined the police force your father had been a pretty prominent presence in church groups all throughout the southern states, and by proxy you and your mother had too. You can't really remember much of the experience other than having to constantly be on your best behavior, put on a perfect front no matter what. It was exhausting. Not to mention the only music you could listen to had to be pre-approved by your parents. You'd sit in the back seat with perfect posture, mouthing along to songs about God while you stared longingly at the kids in cars passing by, screaming songs that were forbidden to you at the top of their lungs.

You tell Joel about it. The first twenty minutes or so of the drive is spent unloading your past road trip experiences, something you genuinely hadn't planned on doing. But talking to him is just so easy. The words fall from your lips without any hesitance whatsoever, no fear that he'll ask why you put up with it, why you didn't stand up for yourself, those questions you'd been asked by people at college whenever you mentioned your upbringing. He listens attentively, reaches over and picks up your hand to place it on his thigh, squeezes it reassuringly.

"I'm just rambling now," you finally say with a shake of your head, "The point is, this is my first road trip without all those rules, you know? So it's just... I'm just really excited."

"I get it, honey. And I'm glad I can give you this experience," he turns to look at you with a crooked smile, "Among others." Your cheeks warm.

As usual, he commands the space he's in. He's so big and broad in the front seat, one large hand on the wheel while the other caresses your fingers, thumbs your palm. His forearms are thick and freckled, lined with veins and little nicks and cuts here and there from work. The grey in his scruff reflects light in the sun, sending little twinkles and glimmers into your periphery every so often. He's so perfect, sitting there beside you. So handsome. Yours.

"Which band is that?" you ask him, genuinely curious as your eyes trail down to his t-shirt. You can't help but assume that it's some kind of metal band, what with all the skulls.

"This?" he tugs at it, eyes falling to where you're looking, "Grateful Dead."

"Oh, cool."

He smiles sympathetically, "You have no idea who they are, do you?"

"Is it that obvious?"

He laughs and squeezes your hand again, then lets go to reach into the center console for his phone. You watch him unlock it and pull his face back to squint at it, eyes flicking back and forth between the screen and the road while he tries to access something.

"I can do it," you offer, and without any qualms he slips his phone into your hand with a smile.

"I- uh- I made a playlist," he says, turning his attention to the road again, "For the trip. There's some Grateful Dead on there, if you wanna hear it. You can add your own stuff to it too, don't want you thinkin' you can only listen to my shit."

You don't know why the concept of Joel making a playlist specifically for your trip is so fucking adorable, but it is. You can't help but smile as you open Spotify and spot it immediately - simply called Dallas. You scroll through it and pick the first Grateful Dead song you spot.

"Wait," you say, scrunching your eyebrows as soft guitar fills the truck, gentle and smooth, "This is Grateful Dead?"

He chuckles, "What were you expectin'?"

"Somebody screaming, maybe? Especially for a song called Friend of The Devil," you turn to him with a shake of your head, "God, you're telling me this is the kinda shit my parents forbid me from listening to? It's literally just some guy."

He laughs again, deep and genuine, "Half the shit parents forbid their kids from listenin' to ain't even that bad. I remember a couple years before my momma died, she told me she'd heard this new singer called Bruce Springsteen, absolutely loved him," he grins at the memory, "Meanwhile she'd thrown out all my Springsteen records when I was sixteen, said they were filth."

"Did you remind her?"

He shakes his head, "Nah, I let her believe he really was some new singer she'd discovered. Wouldn't have done any good to rub it in her face. We'd already made peace."

You think about that concept - peace. The very thought of ever having a peaceful relationship with your own parents feels foreign and downright impossible, a feeling that makes you ridiculously sad if you think about it too long. You don't want to entertain the idea of having to say goodbye to them completely at any point, for them to be out of your life entirely because they don't want you anymore. You're glad Joel was able to make peace with his mother, but after years? After his father had passed away? The thought is frightening.

"Now, Backstreet Boys," Joel continues with a wry smile, "that's a band you gotta watch out for. I had to stare at those faces every time I went in Sarah's room for years. Talk about trauma."

The discomfort fades almost immediately, a natural giggle bubbling past your lips at his words. You like hearing him mention his daughter so casually - you're finally in the loop, finally getting to see the real him, hear his unfiltered thoughts.

"Can I... can I ask you something about Sarah?"

His expression changes then, not into one of anger or guilt, but surprise. He nods immediately, reaches back over to take your hand in his, "Of course you can, angel. Anythin' you want."

"Um, how old is she?" You've already done the math in your head, but you want to be sure, want to hear it from him.

"She's thirty eight," he gives you a look, "Does that make you feel weird?"

You shake your head, "No, it doesn't." You mean it. You'd probably find it weirder if she was closer to your age, but thirty eight... a full grown woman, out of the house and living her own life for years. There's something different about that, something that doesn't bring you any discomfort.

"I just wanna say... I've... I've never been with anyone your age," he looks away again, like he's worried about seeing your face as he says it, "You're the youngest person I've been with, save for when I was that age myself." He grimaces, "I don't... I don't go around preyin' on young girls or anything, if you were worried about that. I know the first day we met might've made you think otherwise, but-"

You smile softly as he babbles, "I believe you, Joel. I mean... I can't say the thought didn't cross my mind. I was a bit worried about that this weekend, when I saw you and Sarah. I thought she was my age."

He laughs a little breathlessly, shaking his head, "Oh, she'd be very pleased to hear that, lemme tell you." He makes a face. "The thinkin' she's your age part, not the part about you thinkin' we were together. She probably wouldn't like that so much."

You giggle, "Yeah, probably not."

"But I do mean it, honey. I'm not that kinda man, or at least I never thought I was," he bites his lip, "You kinda turned my whole world upside down that day, if I'm bein' honest."

You don't really know what to say in response, but you feel pride swell in your chest at his words. You reach your other hand over and place it on top of where you're already entwined, peering up at him fondly, hoping he can sense what you're feeling. The song switches over to something else then, another guitar heavy tune. You recognize the melody immediately, your eyes going wide.

"Speaking of the first day we met," you say softly, hoping he'll recognize the significance - and he does. He peers at you with that beautifully tender expression he reserves only for you, grip tightening beneath your other hand.

"Tangled Up in Blue, Bob Dylan."

"I knew it was Bob Dylan."

"Good ear. You play?"

"Um, not really."

The memory sends tingles down your spine. How was that only a few weeks ago? How have you gone from being the shy and bashful girl at the end of Joel Miller's walkway to the girl sitting in his truck holding his hand on a three hour road trip to another city? Talking about your life, his life, the things that matter? The girl with lingerie and birth control packed neatly in your travel bag?

"I'm still plannin' on teachin' you how to play this," he finally says, smirking, "Don't think you can get off easy just 'cause we're focusin' on the hymns."

You roll your eyes with a grin, "When you actually teach me a hymn, we'll talk."

--

It doesn't take long to realize that driving with Joel is very distracting. Not only is he so large and broad in the seat beside you, looking gorgeous and charming as he always does, but he also smells fucking delicious. Being in such close proximity to him in a small space, being able to smell his cologne mixed with the sheer scent of him, raw and masculine and sexy. It just reminds you of how it feels to be underneath him, overwhelmed by him entirely, feeling the rough edges of his body against yours.

You've had the windows rolled up since the first hour, turned on the AC once you'd gotten on the highway and let the cool air fill the truck. But now it's just circulating that fucking smell, thick and heady as you watch little droplets of sweat form on Joel's forehead, trickle down his temples. You feel a throb in your panties, a surge of release, and you clench your thighs together.

"You okay, babygirl?" he asks you softly, reaching over to place his big hand on your bare thigh - of course he'd noticed your change in demeanor immediately, "Need to stop somewhere and use the bathroom?"

His hand on your thigh just makes you clench tighter, makes you lean back lazily in your seat and let out a quiet whimper. You turn and look at him the exact moment his gaze reaches your face, reads it, tries to make sense of what you need.

"What is it?" he murmurs, hand slowly rubbing your skin, "What's got you makin' sounds like that, huh?"

You whimper again, already fully decided on what you want. Your hand goes down to grip his, move it upwards to the crotch of your shorts. His jaw slackens, eyes going dark.

"Need your pussy touched, baby?"

You nod, feeling heat flood your cheeks at his words. You watch as he assesses the road in front of him, the lane beside him. He chews the inside of his cheek and seems to settle on something internally. He keeps his eyes trained ahead while his hand fiddles with the zipper on your shorts.

"Unbutton those for me, pretty girl," he says, voice suddenly low, and you don't need telling twice. You practically tear your shorts open and allow him to reach his hand inside - it's so big and warm, hairy knuckles and callused fingertips slipping past the band of your underwear. Another pitiful sound falls from your lips as his index drops to your entrance and immediately slips inside.

"Joel," you whisper, tilting your head back and closing your eyes as he pushes knuckle deep inside you, filling you quickly and easily.

He doesn't say anything, just prods a second finger against your hole and slowly pushes it alongside the first. You take him so easy now; it doesn't burn the way it did those first few times, and it certainly helps that you're also soaking wet, practically dripping through your shorts.

"That's it," he murmurs softly beside you, other hand still on the wheel while he monitors the traffic around him, "That feel better, baby?"

"Y-yes," you breathe, looking down again to watch the lewd actions happening in your lap, watch the way his hand moves back and forth in your shorts as he pulls his fingers in and out of you.

"Just close your eyes and relax, angel," he tells you gently, "I'll take care of it."

You do as he says, letting yourself relax as best you can while he continues to slowly fuck you with his fingers. Another song starts playing, something low with a steady beat that he suddenly sets the pace to, speeding up as you open your legs a bit wider and moan softly. His thumb finds your clit and circles it, making you whine.

"Shhh, it's okay," your hear him say beside you, working his fingers, "It's alright, babygirl. Gonna give you what you need."

You moan again at the images that flood your brain, the thought of being underneath him in only a couple hours time, the feeling of his cock pushing inside, filling you up in just the way you've been aching for. You imagine his heavy breaths, hot and sticky against your skin. The smell of his cologne, his sweat. The coarseness of his pubic hair against your bare pussy. You writhe in the seat and tighten your thighs together, another whine slipping from your mouth.

"I got you," he murmurs, and he does. It doesn't take much else at all for you to climax, and he gets you there quickly with a few more circles of his thumb, the stiffness of his fingers, his name slipping past your lips as you come.

You lay loose and pliant in your seat for a moment, eyes still closed. He goes to remove his hand from your shorts but you stop him, reaching down to hold his wrist and keep his warm hand inside. He cups your pussy gently and just holds it, the palm of his hand sitting firmly atop your throbbing hole, rhythmically pulsing against his skin.

"Just keep it there," you whisper, chest heaving, "Please."

"Christ," he grunts under his breath, and you open your eyes to look at him, see the flush of his skin as he looks at you with desire in his eyes, "You were right, babygirl. I don't think we'll be leavin' that hotel room."

--

You like Joel's playlist a lot. After stopping into a gas station to clean up a bit, you sit in the passenger seat while he loads up on gas and scroll through it on your own phone, liking certain tracks that have stood out to you. His musical range is very broad; there's a lot of artists on it that you've never heard of, but you're not sure if that's just because of how sheltered you've been or because he's so much older than you. You choose to believe it's the latter - you hate thinking about how much you've missed out on. He'd said you could add some of your own songs but the thought makes you feel embarrassed; you haven't really had much time to form your own music taste, have spent your college experience so far just listening to whatever's popular since you couldn't when you were younger. You wouldn't even know what to add.

You scroll back up to the top of the playlist and tap Joel's profile out of curiosity, wondering if he has any other public playlists. You smile to yourself when you see titles like BBQ, 80s Tunes, Good Solos, Acoustic, Oldies, Angel.

Hold on...

Angel

You stare at it for a moment, thumb hovering over the icon but making no move to actually press it. You suddenly feel like you're invading his privacy somehow, like this isn't something he'd want you to see, not unless he said you could. With all the strength you can muster you hit the back button and return to the Dallas playlist, tapping a random song and locking your phone.

Joel gets back in the truck, oblivious to your discovery. "Gettin' closer, darlin'. You excited?"

You smile, warmth bursting in your chest, "Can't wait."

--

The conversation drifts here and there throughout the rest of the drive, both of you asking and answering questions back and forth about your lives, your pasts, your interests, your dislikes. You learn that Joel really likes music. You've known this, of course - it's not like it's some huge surprise - but hearing him talk about the artists he likes, the instruments, the melodies, the lyrics... you can hear the passion in his voice, the adoration for his favorites, the infatuation with certain lines and words. He loves music.

"Why aren't you a musician?" you ask him, genuinely curious, "Like, this really seems like something you should be doing professionally."

He chuckles at that, shakes his head, "Knowin' a lot about somethin' doesn't necessarily constitute a career in it," he shrugs, "I mean... I can't say I never thought about it. To be honest, when I was a teenager I did dream about performin' live, recordin' an album, all that jazz."

"So... why didn't you?"

He tilts his head with a half smile, "I think you're forgettin' the part where I became a dad right outta high school."

You wince, "Oh. Right."

He laughs, "S'okay. I mean, I still probably coulda done it. But there was a period there in those early years where I stopped playin' altogether, so it kinda just... slipped my mind."

You frown, "What happened? If you don't mind me asking."

He takes a breath, thoughtful for a moment as he tightens his grip on the wheel and squeezes your hand at the same time, like he's preparing himself - or preparing you.

"Well, uh... Sarah's mom, she left." Your lips part in surprise but you don't say anything, giving him a few seconds to collect his thoughts again before continuing, "She, uh, she had really bad post-partum depression, lasted a really long time. Of course, at the time, that kinda thing wasn't really talked about very much. And on top o' that we were both living with her parents since I'd been kicked out and we couldn't afford to go anywhere else. Even when we finally managed to move out they stayed in our business."

"And her parents... were they...?"

"They were strict, yeah," his jaw tenses, "They were... they were very hard on her, which made it worse. And she never wanted to be a mom, ya know? She was only seventeen when it happened and it completely uprooted all her plans. She'd wanted to get outta Texas, go to California or New York, get away from her parents and all the bullshit." He sighs, shaking his head slightly at the memory, "But livin' where we did, abortion was outta the question and her parents were our only option."

He's not looking at you but you can see the pain in his expression, the regret. A wave of sadness washes over you as you watch him talk about this particularly difficult part of his past, a part you'd been curious about ever since last weekend but had been too afraid to ask about. You're not really sure what to say.

"They made us get married," he makes a face, "And I mean, it's not like we weren't in love at that point, 'cause we were. She was my high school sweetheart and I loved her so much, I wanted it to work. But she was so unhappy. So distant. And when Sarah was born it was like she was gone. The Mish I knew just completely disappeared." He finally looks at you, expression apologetic, "That's her name - Mish. Well, Michelle, but she hates Michelle. God," he sighs exasperatedly, "I'm sorry, darlin', I shouldn't be ramblin' on about this."

You shake your head quickly, pulling your hand from his grip to lay it on top of his and squeeze, a comforting gesture, "No, Joel, don't apologize. Tell me. I wanna know."

He peers at you, hesitant, "You're sure?"

"Yes. I... I wanna know you, if you'll let me." You squeeze his hand again, reassuring him quietly.

So he tells you. He tells you about getting his first real job in construction, working the latest hours possible to earn as much as he could to get the three of them out of Mish's parents house and into their own. He tells you about Sarah being born, how he'd never felt as happy in his entire life as he did when he first held her in his arms, how she was a light in the darkness for him, lit up the room with her killer smile and big brown eyes. He tells you how he'd woken up one morning to a note from Mish, telling him that she couldn't do it anymore, that she had to get out before the situation swallowed her whole. He tells you about how his little brother Tommy, the one you'd thought he disliked, the golden boy, started skipping school to take care of Sarah when Joel couldn't - not because Joel asked him, but because he'd wanted to help.

"They say it takes a village," he says with a soft smile, "But for me, I had my brother and that was enough. It was like the past however many years of that godforsaken rivalry our parents pushed on us hadn't even happened."

"This coming from the person who asked me to scratch his truck an hour ago," you tease, and he just laughs, peering over at you with a genuine smile and tears shining in his eyes. There he is, the real him.

"Mish, she uh-" he clears his throat, "She came back, when Sarah was a little older, but then she disappeared again, same story. We found out later that she was dealin' with a whole lot more than post partum. I won't go into the details but once she got on the right meds, started therapy, she came back to us. Took a little while for things to settle - we tried on our relationship again, but we realized we just didn't fit, it was never gonna work." You squeeze his hand again. "She stayed in our lives though, became a good mom to Sarah, that's what mattered most."

"And you were just... you were just alone, through all of that?" you ask quietly, "I mean, I know you had Tommy, but... that must've been so hard." You can't even imagine dealing with all of that, find it difficult to comprehend the fact that Joel had become a father when he was younger than you, had to drop all his dreams and desires and start living entirely for someone else. "Didn't your parents ever try to reach out at all? Didn't they want to know Sarah?"

He sighs, eyes on the road, "My momma did, I know she did. But my father wouldn't let her, and she did as he said, no questions asked."

You can't help but picture your own parents, the way your mother bends over backwards to police herself around your father, the way she's taught you your entire life to do the same. The way she can't even talk to him about what's really going on - or at least what she thinks is going on - for fear of him winding up in control of the situation, making the decisions for her.

"I wonder if my mom would still wanna see me if she knew what I've been doing," you say aloud, unable to keep the thought to yourself. "Or if my dad would force her to shut me out."

Once again your hands swap places, Joel wrapping his fingers around your palm and gripping it tightly. But he doesn't say anything, doesn't give you any words of reassurance, and you know it's because he can't.

--

A soft kiss to your right cheek, then your left. Whiskered and warm. Your eyes flutter open and you see Joel leaning over the center console with a tender smile on his face, brown eyes peering down at you fondly.

"We're here, baby," he murmurs.

You blink a few times, confused. Only moments ago you'd been listening to music, chatting about your degree and answering Joel's questions about your other life, the one where your parents aren't in charge. He'd been so attentive, so interested in learning more about you. You vaguely remember a song coming on, slow and melodic, and then...

"I fell asleep?" you ask blearily, sitting up a bit.

"Out like a light," he says with a smile, "Had to skip all my heavy metal."

You roll your eyes and peer out the window, confused by the darkness beyond.

"We're in the parking garage at the hotel," he clarifies quickly, leaning back into his own seat, "Ready to check in?"

You nod and yawn, opening the passenger side door and stepping out to stretch your arms above your head. It feels good to be out of the small confines of Joel's truck, even though it was nice while it lasted. He follows suit and walks around the side to grab the luggage from the back.

"You brought your guitar?" you ask, watching as he picks up the long black carrying case and slips it over his shoulder.

"That I did," he replies with a wink, "Gotta get that lesson in, right?"

You feel heat bloom in your cheeks and avoid his flirtatious gaze, moving toward the truck bed to grab your bag. He gets to it first, picks up both his bag and yours and carries them easily in both hands, walking over to meet you on the other side of the truck.

"I can take mine," you offer, "That's a lot to carry."

He just chuckles and shakes his head, walking in front of you, "You ain't liftin' one single finger on this trip, sweetheart."

Walking from the darkness of the parking garage to the suddenly blaringly bright sun of Dallas is disconcerting at first, but certainly not unwelcome. Your eyes squint against the sunlight, focus on Joel's broad back as he walks in front of you with all the bags, guitar case swinging from his shoulder. God, he looks good carrying all that, big hands gripping the handles of the bags as he saunters ahead. That's yours, you remind yourself yet again, he's yours.

You're so distracted by how good he looks that you barely really take notice of the hotel until you're pushing past the doors into the main lobby, and that's when you freeze in place with your jaw practically on the floor.

What the fuck?

When Joel told you he'd booked a hotel, the only thing you'd really pictured in your mind was the room itself. You'd imagined a pretty sizeable room with a big bed, an ensuite bathroom and maybe a balcony if you were lucky. You've never really spent much time in a hotel before, especially nothing fancy or expensive. When you'd traveled with your parents you usually stayed with family friends or other parishioners; they hadn't wanted to expose you to too much luxury or wealth. It's hypocritical now when you think back on it, considering the large house your parents live in, the pool, the cars, the boat your father wants to buy. They'd had money to throw away on those things but couldn't splurge on a hotel room every once in a while? Couldn't treat you to something you really wanted?

Now you stand in an absolutely gorgeous main lobby, all marble floors and bright greenery, glints of gold and crystal and diamonds everywhere you turn. You suddenly feel like you've walked into a European country - how the fuck did you drive three hours from Austin and end up in a place like this?

Joel is stalling a few feet in front of you, that cocky smile in full view as he watches your reaction, "Ain't too shabby, huh?"

You're still staring with wide eyes at the sleek floors, the glittering fountains, the fucking bell-hops wearing those silly little outfits. You turn back to Joel with a shake of your head, mouth open.

You barely register the checking-in process, too mesmerized by your surroundings to pay attention. A bell-hop loads up your bags onto a luggage cart, the clerk hands Joel a key card, and you're still in complete awe of what you've just walked into as you follow Joel almost robotically to the elevator without speaking.

This is too much, you want to say.

How much did you spend? you want to ask.

The room itself is fucking beautiful, overlooking the hustle and bustle of the city below, a sight you already know will look gorgeous when the sun goes down and the buildings are lit up. The bed is huge, much bigger than you'd anticipated, with a giant flatscreen TV on the wall overtop a confusingly high-tech looking fireplace. There's a comfy looking couch and an ensuite to your right, and a fucking balcony, just like you'd hoped for. You stand in complete silence in the doorway for a solid minute until the bell-hop is gone and Joel has to nudge you forward a little to shut the door.

"Say somethin'," he murmurs, wrapping his arms around you from behind and nuzzling his face in your neck.

You shake your head again, eyes still wide, "I- I don't even know what to say."

"D'you like it?" his voice is muffled in the warmth of your neck, lips pressing a soft kiss there as his arms squeeze you gently, "Tell me what you're thinkin'."

You swallow around the lump in your throat, close your eyes through freshly stinging tears and lean back into his embrace. "I'm thinking that.... that I can't believe you did all this for me."

He kisses your neck again, slow and sweet, "Of course I did, angel. S'what you deserve."

You open your eyes and look down to see his big arms holding you tightly, feel the firm warmth of him at your back, smell that heady and delicious scent of his cologne. This isn't some dream you're having, some weird and sinful idea you came up with in your head; this is real. You're really here, standing in a beautiful hotel room with the most beautiful man you could ever imagine. You feel so safe.

And now you have an entire weekend to show him how much that means to you, a thought that sends a chill up your spine when your gaze rises back up to the bed. There it is. That's where it's going to happen.

"So... what's the plan?" you ask quietly.

He chuckles, pressing a quick kiss to your ear before pulling back and spinning you around in his embrace, peering down at you with a soft expression. "Anythin' you want," he says with a smile, "You're in charge."

You can't help but feel yourself pout a bit, "What if I don't wanna be in charge?"

He leans down and brushes his nose against yours softly, "Well, then I'd say..." he's cut off by a sudden gurgling sound, and your eyes widen when you realize it's your stomach - you haven't eaten since this morning. He laughs lightly, pulling back to assess you fondly, "I'd say we better head down to the dining room and get some food in you."

You grimace, even though you know he's right. "Spoke too soon."

--

While you enjoyed the thrill of the hotel surprise, part of you wishes Joel had told you what kind of place this was so you could have packed accordingly. You definitely didn't pack anything super elegant or fancy, although you had packed all the dresses you'd bought a little while ago, the ones you'd tried on in his kitchen and haven't had an opportunity to wear since. You assess your options now, bag open on the couch, fingers trailing through the different fabrics. The little pink bag with your new lingerie still sits tucked into the side, and you wonder if you should wear it underneath whatever you choose to wear for dinner. As usual, you're not really sure how this kind of thing is supposed to work.

You settle on the pink one; you know from past experience that Joel's certainly a fan of that color on you. You take it into the bathroom along with the lingerie while he rummages through his own clothes, oblivious.

"Okay," you whisper to yourself as you stand in front of the mirror and tug off your t-shirt, then shorts. You stare at yourself in your underwear and bra for a few seconds, then carefully peel them from your body and reach inside the little pink bag. You'd already cut the tags off - no going back now.

The set fits perfectly, hugging your soft curves and the swells of your breasts, shaping your tummy and accentuating your thighs. You look good, as much as you feel odd admitting that to yourself. It's still been hard to look in the mirror lately and see what Joel sees, to not feel guilty for simply having a body. It gives you a similar feeling to how you'd felt in your bikini, though the lingerie leaves a lot less to the imagination with its transparent material and plunging panty line.

You tug on the dress and then the sheer white stockings, loving the way they stop at your thighs just under the dress and show off a small sliver of bare skin beneath the hem. You decide to leave the garter belt in the bathroom until later, tucking it into one of the cupboards underneath some towels. You peer at yourself in the mirror again, assessing yourself up and down and hoping Joel will like what he sees.

He does.

The second you come out of the bathroom you see him pause, looking up from where he's buttoning up a nice black dress shirt to gaze at you hungrily. His lips part, eyes going hooded as he walks over to you and firmly palms your lower back, pulls you close and trails his other hand up the side of your body.

"Christ," he breathes, almost a growl, "You're so fuckin' pretty."

Without any other words one of his hands suddenly reaches up your dress, grips tight to one of your thighs. You gasp, eyes widening as he thumbs the bare skin just beneath your panties, pulling back to peer down at you with a lustful expression.

"God, I could fuck you right now," he mutters, and the words send a squeak past your lips, a gush of wetness into your brand new panties, "Yeah, you want me to bend you over and fill you up? 'Cause you look positively sinful right now."

You whimper, tempted immediately by his words, at the thought of being bent over the edge of the bed and taken right there without any preparation. But you know that's not how you want this to go; if it was, you'd have already been fucked by him ages ago. And you know that he knows it too, that he wants the same things you want - to take it slow, to take your time, feel everything the way you want to feel it.

It doesn't mean you can't tease him, though. "Would you actually?" you ask softly, voice shaking a little bit in anticipation.

"God, yes, I would," he murmurs, "Just say the word and I will."

You bite your lip, almost genuinely considering it for a moment before your stomach suddenly growls again and you sigh exasperatedly.

He smiles, leans down to press his lips to your ear, "We have all weekend, remember?"

You shiver at the thought.

--

Dinner is beyond lovely, delicious dishes served on sparkling silver platters in a grand dining room, bottomless champagne which you surprise yourself by indulging in - about a glass and a half - and a live band performing some soft jazzy numbers on a stage nearby. It's so romantic, so dazzling and classy and like nothing you've ever experienced before. Your eyes flicker back and forth between everything periodically, like you can't really believe you're sitting here - but you are.

It feels so nice to sit in a public place with Joel, be surrounded by people who have no idea who you are and no concept of the secret nature of your relationship. It's just normal, easy, no need to be guarded or quiet or pretend you're something you're not. He smiles at you from across the table and you smile back easily without any pretenses, without that nagging voice in the back of your mind telling you to be on your best behavior. You can just be yourself.

He's so handsome, dressed mostly in black with his greying curls gelled back a bit, deep chocolate eyes almost never leaving yours. He looks at you like you're the only person in the room, the only one he can see while you trade more stories about your lives, your favorite things, your dreams. You tell him you'd like to write a book one day, not exactly sure what about yet but how you're not sure you'd even have the confidence to actually publish it - he tells you with warmth and tenderness that he'd read anything you wrote, be the first one to buy a copy. He tells you how he's written songs but never played them to anybody before, but he'd play them for you if you wanted to hear them - you do.

Despite the pretty music, the twinkling lights, the cozy atmosphere and yummy food... you can't wait to get back to the hotel room. Your skin is buzzing with anticipation of what comes next, what you both know will happen as soon as you're back behind closed doors. The thought has been sitting there in the back of your mind all day, all week - for crying out loud, it's been there since the day you met him. It's nice to sit and eat and chat and pretend for a little bit like you didn't come on this vacation for a very specific reason, but that reason is becoming glaringly more apparent the longer you sit across from each other, stealing glances and soft touches. You need him. You need him right now.

Your eyes must go glassy, a faraway look in your expression, because a few moments after finishing your food Joel extends his arm to you and squeezes your hand, peers at you with darkening eyes.

"I know, babygirl," he murmurs, calloused fingertips caressing your skin, "Let's go."

--

As soon as the door shuts behind the both of you Joel's arms are immediately around you again, just like they'd been when you first stepped into the room after check-in. This time though, he presses his body firmly to yours, pushes his groin against your ass and reaches up to pull your hair back behind your ear, other hand flat against your stomach.

"I want you so bad," he whispers, and your whole body seems to convulse in his grasp in anticipation, "Been thinkin' about it all day."

"Me too," you whisper back, like it's a secret. "I'm ready, Joel."

He noses your ear, your neck, your shoulder. You feel him pull back the sleeve of your dress and press an open mouthed kiss to the skin there, slow and wet.

"I'm gonna take care of you," he murmurs softly, "I promise."

You lean back into his touch, eyes fluttering closed as he continues to press kisses all over your exposed skin, the rough prickles of his facial hair feeling sinful against your flesh. He grinds himself into you again and you whine.

"You're gonna feel it right here," he reminds you, rubbing your tummy gently and inhaling your perfume, "Right there, babygirl."

You whimper, legs buckling underneath you, "I want it, Joel, Want it now, please." Your thoughts are clouded by the smell of him, the feel of him, and it's only when you feel him start to unzip your dress in the back that you remember what you're wearing underneath.

"Wait," you say quickly, pulling away and turning around to face him, "Wait, just - just gimme one minute," he looks confused and you smile apologetically, "I have a surprise for you first." You reach forward and take his hands in yours, pull him toward the bed and gently nudge him onto the edge, "Just wait there, okay? I'll be right back."

You start backing up to go to the ensuite and can't help but appreciate the way he looks sitting there for a moment, leaning back on his hands while he gazes at you from the bed under his lashes. His legs are so long, belt buckle shining tantalizingly under the overhead light. You watch as he kicks his shoes off, smiling up at you.

"Don't go anywhere," you tell him, still backing up, "Stay right there."

He grins, "Ain't nowhere I'd rather be than right here, baby."

Your skin heats as you turn the doorknob and head into the bathroom, locking it behind you. You try not to think too much about what's about to happen, what you're going to do together the second you open that door again - the thought is so beyond overwhelming that you can already feel goosebumps rising all over your body.

The dress comes off easily and you place it with slightly trembling fingers onto the counter, reaching down to open up the cupboard and grab the garter you'd stowed away. You don't look at yourself in the mirror until it's securely in place, stockings hooked into it symmetrically albeit a little precariously, and when you finally do see yourself - bright eyed and warm, hair a little tousled, anticipation clear as day on your face - you can't help but grin.

You're about to lose your virginity. To Joel.

You take a few steadying breaths in the mirror, closing your eyes and giving yourself a moment to just quietly exist. You press your palms to the counter, inhaling and exhaling slowly, grounding yourself and working up the courage to go back into the room.

And then you hear it - a low buzzing sound, rattling against the solid tile of the bathroom countertop. You open your eyes in slight confusion, looking toward the sound; it's your phone, tucked against the wall, hidden behind the hand towel. Your brow furrows - has it been in here this whole time? You can't remember checking it at dinner, don't think you'd even unlocked it since before Joel woke you up from your nap in the truck.

You reach over and grab it, wondering who could be calling you - and that's when your heart plummets to your stomach.

6 messages. 4 missed calls. All from your mother.

Fuck.

Are you in Dallas yet?

Let me know when you arrive.

What hotel are you staying at?

Text me back now.

Where are you?

Answer the phone.

"Shit," you whisper, "Shit, shit, shit." You scramble to type out a response, erasing typos and re-typing over and over until you wind up with something that you hope makes sense:

sorry!!! i was so tired from the drive and passed out as soon as i got in my room. i'm still half asleep, i'll talk to you more tomorrow.

How the fuck could you forget to text her?! It was the one thing you'd promised her, the one thing you weren't lying about before you left, and it had still managed to completely slip your mind. You stare at the sent message, watching a whole minute go by until her typing bubble appears, slow and steady. Finally, her reply comes in:

I told your father about Mr. Miller. We'll discuss when you get home.

Well, that's definitely not the response you'd been expecting.

Your face scrunches in confusion as you read the message again; you're not sure how it correlates at all to your lack of communication, the breaking of your promise. You suppose she'd been so worried she'd had no choice but to tell your father the "real" reason you're in Dallas - the music festival, and by proxy the lessons with Joel that "inspired" the trip in the first place. That would make sense. It's not like she has any way of knowing that you're actually here with Joel, right? No, that's illogical. You've been careful.

Okay, you know what? Good. This is good. You've wanted him to know all along. One less secret to keep, right? It's a good thing.

So why does your heart suddenly feel like it's on the floor?

You read the message again, and then again.

It's fine. Don't worry about it, it's okay.

You look up from the phone and into the mirror, eyebrows going up when you see yourself. For a moment you'd forgotten where you were, what exactly you're doing in the bathroom of a hotel room in Dallas wearing nothing but lingerie. The stark contrast of the freedom you'd felt a few moments ago and the sudden anxiety you feel now is palpable, eyes going a bit blurry as you assess yourself in the mirror again. You suddenly feel slightly disconnected from the image itself, like the person you're looking at isn't you - it can't be you, can it? Is that you?

Water, you need water. You cup your hand in the sink and turn on the tap, collecting a small pool of liquid there before bringing it to your lips. The action reminds you that you'll need to take your birth control later, a thought that sends another pang of anxiety to your already discombobulated body. Why do you need to take birth control again? Oh yeah, because you're about five minutes away from losing your virginity. To Joel. Your ears begin to ring.

Your hands shake above the sink, water dripping downwards off your hands into the much too fancy basin below. What are you doing here? Who do you think you are? You really think this is okay? You really think everything you're doing, everything you've been doing, isn't going to have major consequences? Your vision blurs.

You shut off the water and shove your trembling hands into a dry towel, tears beginning to stream down your cheeks. You avoid looking at yourself in the mirror, avoid acknowledging the way you look all together. What the fuck is wrong with you? Who are you? What have you become? Lying to your parents, resisting everything they ever taught you, doing filthy things behind their back?

The sins you've acted upon are against God, you can practically hear your father spitting at you, the behavior you've exhibited will surely leave you with nothing but a one way ticket to Hell.

Your heart pounds in your chest, much faster than normal, much faster than you think it's ever beat. So fast that you briefly think you might be having a heart attack. You clutch at your chest and fall to the floor, attempting to catch your breath and utterly failing to do so, eyes wide and panicked as you practically fight for your life on the marble tile. What the fuck is happening? Not even five minutes ago you'd been totally fine, completely ready and willing and excited, and now you want nothing more than for the floor to open up and swallow you whole.

"J-Joel?" you gasp out, voice echoing against the walls; it's like you're calling out for emergency assistance, a last-ditch attempt at survival. He doesn't answer - you hadn't been loud enough. You take another gasping breath and call out a bit louder, "Joel?"

You hear his voice almost immediately on the other side of the door, "I'm here, baby. You okay?"

You shut your eyes tight, head leaning back against the wall as you pull your legs up to hug against your chest. How the fuck do you even answer a question like that? No, I'm not okay. I'm completely the opposite of okay.

"I c-can't breathe," you practically spit the words out, teeth beginning to chatter.

"Hey, hey, what's goin' on? Can I come in?"

You don't answer, can't answer. The knob jiggles and you silently curse yourself for locking it, "What is it, baby? What's wrong? Talk to me." You can hear the worry in his voice.

"I don't kn-know" you hiccup, hands coming up to cover your face, "I just... I just g-got really sc-scared all of a sudden."

"Oh sweetheart, that's okay." His voice is calm, soothing, reassuring. "That's alright, honey. It's okay to be scared, that's normal. That's okay."

"N-no it's not," you gasp out, hands still shaking, "I'm- I'm going to hell."

There's a beat of silence, then -

"I think you're havin' a panic attack, babygirl," you hate how muffled his voice is through the door, like he's ridiculously far away, "That's okay, I have those too. I have those all the time."

Your eyebrows go up in surprise, "Y-you do?"

"I do. And I can help you if you let me in, alright? We can get through it together, I promise."

"Y-you won't be m-mad at me?"

"Babygirl," he breathes, the tone of his voice doused in shock, "I'd never be mad at you for somethin' like that. Not now, not ever." Another knob jiggle, "Open up, sweetheart, lemme hold you."

The thought of being in his arms is the only thing that gets you off the floor, legs shaking like a baby deer as you lean against the wall for support and sidestep over to the bathroom door. With relentlessly shaky fingers you manage to unlock it, tugging it open just a little bit. He does the rest.

You barely get a look at his expression - full of concern and tenderness - before you're suddenly being scooped up into his big, warm arms. He lifts you off the floor like you weigh nothing while you bury your face in his shoulder, close your eyes and try your best to focus on the sound of his breathing, the smell of him, the way he feels. Your legs instinctively wrap around him almost like a koala as he carries you over to the couch, sits down while you cling to him in the safety of his lap.

He doesn't mention the fact that you're practically naked, doesn't ask about the lingerie or point out the little wet spot at the front of your panties where only a few minutes ago you'd started getting wet with anticipation. Instead he simply does exactly what he'd said - he holds you. He pulls you in close and rubs your back and squeezes you tightly while you try to calm your breathing, try to disconnect yourself from the panicked feelings.

"You're okay, angel" he whispers to you softly, and you just cling to him tighter, "You're safe, you're alright. Nothin' bad is gonna happen to you, honey."

Except going to hell, you want to say, but you find that your fear is already starting to ebb, being replaced with the feeling of Joel's wide palm against your back and his soothing words in your ear.

"We have all the time in the world to take this step," he murmurs softly, "I don't want you to feel any pressure, don't want you to think you have to do anything you don't wanna do."

You remember his words from the other day: Need you to know that you don't owe me anythin', not ever. But the frustrating thing is that this isn't something you feel you owe him, it's something you want to do - or at least had wanted to do, before you picked up the stupid fucking phone.

"I'm r-ruining everything," you manage to gasp out, tears still flowing relentlessly down your face, "I'm s-sorry."

"You're not ruinin' anything," he breathes, and you can hear the sincerity in the tone of his voice, "That is not the only reason we came here, sweet girl. We came here to be together, get away from everythin'." You feel him press a gentle kiss to your temple, "Now, tell me what's goin' on. What's got you so scared, baby? Talk to me."

You sniff, face still buried in the warm fabric of his shirt as you tell him about the messages, the response from your mom about telling your father, the way your heart had sunk when you fully registered what it would mean for them to really know what's going on. You realize you're getting tears and snot all over him but he doesn't seem to pay it any mind, continuing to rub your back soothingly.

"It's fine that he knows, or thinks he knows - whatever," you sniffle, "But the whole thing is just- it's just so fucked. If they knew what I was d-doing here, if they knew what I was wearing-"

"Shhh," he trails his fingers through your hair as you babble and you bury your face into his shoulder again, feeling beyond embarrassed. This is not how you'd seen this night going at all. "Shh, sweetheart, it's okay. Hey, look at me. Look at me, sweet girl."

Hesitantly, you pull your face from his shirt to peer at him from under watery lashes, his handsome face blurry through your tears. He reaches down and takes both your hands in his, squeezes them carefully.

"Follow my breathing, okay?" he tells you softly, voice barely a whisper. You watch as he closes his eyes and slowly inhales through his nose. You count about five seconds before he exhales through his mouth again, opening his eyes, "In and out, real slow like this."

It takes a few minutes to get into a good rhythm, to feel the breathing exercise really start to work, but eventually you start feeling calmer again, more yourself. As you breathe Joel continues to hold your hands in his, keeping you present, grounded. You open your eyes a few times, almost like you're making sure he's still there despite knowing you're in his lap, and each time you see his beautiful face - eyes closed over with his lashes fanning his cheeks, plump lips under greying scruff, the lines and wrinkles you want to kiss every single one of - you feel a wave of reassurance wash over you, a reminder that you're safe, you're not alone.

Once your heart has stopped beating a mile a minute, you wrap your arms around him again and nudge your head lazily into the crook of his shoulder, eyes closed as you hum softly in appreciation. He starts rubbing your back again, soft and slow.

"I don't believe in it anymore," you finally whisper quietly, "I don't. I haven't for a long time. But it's hard to remember that sometimes. It can just... it creeps up on me."

"I know," he murmurs, "I dealt with that for a while too, babygirl. It's a lot to reconcile, a lot to put in the past, I get it."

"I get scared when I think about them finding out about us," you admit softly, "Not because it'll change what we have, but because it'll change what I have with them." You bite your lip "You... you know that better than anybody."

He suddenly grimaces at your words, eyes going up to the ceiling for a few seconds before falling back to you, "I knew it," he grumbles, and your brows furrow in confusion, "I knew I shouldn't've talked about that shit with my parents today."

You shake your head immediately, "No, no, Joel, it has nothing to do with that. I wanted to know that stuff, I wanna know you."

"But it -"

"This is my own thing," you tell him softly, gaze meeting his, "This isn't because of you. You've been..." you smile through your tears, "You've been so amazing, Joel. You've helped me so much."

He brushes his nose against yours again, and with a soft sigh he murmurs, "You've helped me too, sweetheart. More than you realize."

"What d'you mean?"

You watch as he reaches beneath him to pull something out from his back pocket, adjusting you a little in his lap as he does so. He pulls out his wallet, small and brown, weathered around the edges - he's definitely had it for a while. Puzzled, your eyes fall to the tattered inside as he opens it, and you immediately spot something sitting in the compartment reserved for cash - something that catches the light, sparkles under your gaze.

"Is that my crucifix?" you ask quietly.

He nods, slipping his finger inside and pulling out the chain, the cross hanging from his fingertip. "This," he tells you, "has gotten me through two panic attacks of my own this week."

What?

He can tell you're at a bit of a loss for words, confused and surprised. With a small smile he wraps his hand around the crucifix, presses the cross into his palm, then brings it to his lips and presses a small kiss to the metal. The action doesn't make much sense to you, what with Joel being an Atheist and having never shown much interest at all in religion other than how it made you feel.

"But you don't believe in that stuff," you state, suddenly unsure.

He nods, letting his hand fall back down into his lap to touch yours, "I don't," he murmurs, "It's... it's a symbol more than anything." He takes your hand, the cross fitting directly into the center of your palm, "When I hold this, it reminds me of the beautiful girl who trusted me with it, the one sittin' so pretty and perfect in my lap right now."

You can't help but feel a bit embarrassed at his words, painfully aware of the tears drying on your puffy cheeks - you probably look a mess, but he doesn't seem to care.

"Makes me feel less alone," he tells you softly, and you swear you hear his voice hitch on the last word, "Keeps me safe."

You peer at him for a moment, processing his words. You don't really know what to say, beyond touched by the sentiment but still unsure how an object that caused you such pain and frustration could be a light in the darkness for him. How could it have a different meaning than the one it was intended for?

It's like he can sense your hesitance, your questions. He shifts you a bit in his lap, pulling you so close that his nose brushes gently against yours. "You should only believe in somethin' if it feels right," he whispers, "Only if it makes you feel like the luckiest person alive just to experience it, to be in its presence. And angel," he sighs softly, tilting forward so his forehead lightly nudges against yours, "if that ain't me about you."

"Joel," you whisper, fresh tears shining in your eyes. There's nothing else you can really say, nothing that feels right, other than the one thing you've been wanting to say since you arrived, something on the tip of your tongue begging to slip past your lips - but you don't. For now, you just think it, think it with all the warmth and adoration you feel blooming in your chest as you peer at him.

I love you.

You kiss him then, slow. His lips are soft and patient against yours, slightly hesitant, like he's holding himself back - and you suppose he is, considering the situation. He doesn't want to push, doesn't want to assume that what was meant to happen when you got back to the hotel room is still going to happen.

But you already know that it is.

You find that you can now notice the fact that your skin is bare, that he's touching you without anything being in the way, one hand cupped against the soft flesh of your hip while the other still squeezes your hand. It dawns on you that you're wearing the lingerie, the special surprise essentially ruined by your outburst. You frown against his lips.

"What is it?" he murmurs, pulling back to peer at your face, assess your expression.

"I...I bought this for you," you tell him softly, and you watch as his gaze falls to your scantily covered form, "Sorry I ruined the surprise."

His adam's apple bobs in his throat as his eyes trail up and down your body in slow, repetitive movements, like he's only just now fully noticed what you're wearing, taking in absolutely every inch of you - every little embroidered flower, every bare patch of skin. He releases your hand to carefully place both of his palms down on your thighs, the naked part between your panties and the stockings. You watch as he fingers the garter straps, eyes dark.

"Dressed up all pretty for me, huh?" he breathes, thumbs stroking your inner thighs as he brings his gaze back up to meet yours.

"I wanted it to be special," you whisper, "I wanted to wear it when you..." You trail off, mouth going a bit dry all of a sudden.

"Do you still want that, babygirl?" he asks you softly, "Do you still want me to?"

You don't even need to think about it, mull it over in your head or take another breath. You've never been more sure of anything in your life.

"Yes," you whisper, an edge of desperation in your voice, "Please." You kiss him again and he sighs deeply against your mouth, grip tightening on your thighs.

"Say it," he murmurs, teeth nipping lightly at your bottom lip, "Tell me what you want me to do, baby."

You shiver, "Want you to fuck me, Joel," your voice quakes with anticipation, hands balling in his shirt, "Please fuck me."

He doesn't need telling twice; at your words one of his big hands comes up cradle your back again, fingers digging into the soft skin there while his other slips from your thigh and curves around your ass, squeezes. He picks you up again, slips the crucifix into his pocket and stands there without moving as he peers at your face and holds you firmly against his body.

"Please," you whisper again, eyes locked with his as you whimper and buck your hips against him, feel the shape of his half-hard cock rub gently against where you're aching. He looks down without speaking, watches as you pathetically grind your hips, legs tightening around his waist.

"The sweetest girl," he says softly, leaning his face forward to kiss the corner of your mouth, "Already beggin' for my cock, huh?"

You mewl and grind your crotch against him again, already feeling the wetness returning to your panties in slow pulses. He just smiles and finally walks with you to the bed, tilts you downward and lays you out like you're a meal he's about to indulge in, swallow whole. And god, you want him to. Need him to. He pulls back to stand over you, hands going into his pockets as he peers down at you with lust in his eyes.

"Lemme just look at you, babygirl," he says quietly, eyes trailing to your breasts, your bare stomach, your exposed mound and soft thighs. He nudges you over a little bit and then sits on the side of the bed, hand reaching down to stroke one of your arms, slow and gentle, "You look so beautiful."

You lie there, staring up at his face with hooded eyes as you try not to squirm under his gaze. His hand moves from your arm to your shoulder, your shoulder to your collarbone, your collarbone to the space between your breasts. Just like you'd imagined when you'd bought it at the store, he deftly fingers the buttons there a few times, tracing them up and down.

"Pretty," he murmurs, and without warning he slowly slips his hand inside your bra, fingertips brushing your nipple. You whimper again, another surge of arousal dripping into your underwear.

"My sensitive girl," he whispers, brushing it again and smiling when your hips buck, "Are you wet, baby?"

You nod quickly, expression hazy, "Yes."

"How wet?"

Your thighs rub together almost unconsciously, another pathetic sound slipping past your lips, "Really wet, Joel."

He chuckles softly at your impatience, releases your breast and leans down to press a slow and wet kiss to your neck. You moan softly, eyes fluttering closed as his lips trail gently up and down the expanse of your neck, your chest. You feel his hands curve up underneath your back, busying themselves with the latches of your lingerie.

"As much as I could look at you wearin' this for hours," he whispers, "I think theres somethin' under there that deserves my attention." He slips the bra off easily, tugs the straps down your arms and exposes your bare breasts to him, nipples peaked and hard. He immediately captures one in his mouth and starts to suckle gently, hand traveling downward to rest teasingly on your inner thigh.

Fuck, it feels so good. Your eyes roll behind your lids, mouth popping open as you sigh in contentment and just let him play with you. He sucks and licks, nips lightly every so often, travels between both breasts like they were made specifically for him to have in his mouth. Your pussy pulses somewhere below, feeling beyond ignored, and you rub your thighs together again to try to ease some of the pressure. He notices and his hand inches upward to cup you through the material, eliciting a gasp from you.

He pulls off your nipple and you open your eyes to see him peering up at you, eyes almost black, a smirk on his face, "Need your pussy touched again, don't you baby?" You nod, lips turning downwards into a pout, "Okay, sweet girl. I won't tease you too much."

You're very much aware of the fact that Joel is still fully clothed, a fact that you have to admit turns you on a lot more than it probably should. You watch as he crawls on top of you carefully, hooks his legs around you and slowly eases downward, eyes staying locked with yours as he starts kissing his way down your stomach. Your heart rate quickens again, but this time you welcome it.

His fingers play with the straps of your garter as he presses soft kisses to the tops of your thighs, the dips of your waist. You shiver when he presses gentle kisses to your mound, fingers slipping inside the band of your lingerie and carefully tugging it down to expose your pussy to him, wet and aching. He pulls back to look at it, expression one of pure lust as he thumbs one of your lips and pushes it open.

"There she is," he murmurs, "The sweetest little pussy."

"Joel," you moan, closing your eyes and focusing entirely on the way he thumbs your outer lip, caresses it softly like it's something precious and fragile. He dips his thumb further inside and brushes against your folds, sending another thick and syrupy drop of release onto his fingers.

"Look at her pulse, baby," he says, voice husky and dark, "Droolin' for me."

You open your eyes again, watch him lean down and lick a stripe through your dripping folds, collecting the juices on his tongue. You whimper when he swallows and leans in to press a whiskery kiss to your clit, already puffy and twitching.

"She's cryin' for my cock, honey," he breathes, "Been waitin' so long, been so patient."

"Please," you whisper, and his gaze meets yours again, "Please put it in." The words are filthy and full of desperation, your brow furrowing in pleasure as his thumb slowly begins to circle your clit, "I need it."

"I know, sweet girl," he whispers, "But you gotta wait just a little bit longer, gotta let me taste this perfect little cunt first," he presses kisses along your folds, kitten licks past them a bit to slip the tip of his tongue just barely inside your hole. You whine, hand coming down to touch his hair while the other grabs one of your breasts and begins to toy with your nipple, as if on instinct.

He hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, hands coming up to grip your waist and hold you still as he starts to eat you out. Just like the first time, it's beyond overwhelming, your eyes shutting tight and your teeth biting down hard on your bottom lip as his mouth does sinful things to the most intimate part of you. He plunges his tongue inside and buries the curve of his nose in your clit, rubbing it up and down, back and forth, while you whine and whimper above him. Your fingers tangle in his hair and holds his face firm between your legs while he tastes and devours.

"Joel," you keep whimpering, unable to stop from saying his name every chance you get, a reminder to yourself that you're really here with him right now, that he's the one making you feel this way. He barely pulls up for breath, scruff glistening with your release as he pleasures you relentlessly, arm coming up to splay across your belly and push you down into the mattress, holding you firm.

He makes you come easily, but that's no surprise. Just like in the truck earlier, you cry out and toss your head back, body shaking through your orgasm as he sucks on your clit and slips one of his fingers easily inside of you, curves it and makes your body rise up off the bed in pleasure as you shiver and squirm.

"Good girl," he tells you softly when he releases your clit from his mouth, looks up at you with dark lips and messy hair, "That's my good girl."

Only for you Joel, you want to whisper, but you're too blissed out to speak, Only wanna be a good girl for you.

You feel him press soothing kisses around your pussy, finger still slowly pumping in and out as you calm your breathing. He pulls it out and brings it to his lips, sucks it with a deep groan, "God, you taste so good," he murmurs, resting his head for a moment on your thigh and inhaling deeply, "So fuckin' sweet, babygirl."

You remember the first time he'd tasted you, remember how you'd come so hard you'd seen stars, remember how he'd come in his pants. The thought makes you sit up on your hands, look down at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Did you come?" you ask, slightly worried for a moment.

He laughs, pulls his head up and begins to crawl back to you with a smile on his face, "No, not this time. That was a moment of weakness." He cups your face and and looks down at you with a soft expression, "You wanna taste yourself?"

Without any hesitation, you nod. Joel leans down and presses his lips to yours, eases his tongue inside and lets you indulge in your own release, your own special flavor. You've never really tasted anything like it before, unsure how exactly to describe it - you're not sure you'd really call it sweet, but it's not bad by any means, just... different.

"Good?" he asks.

You shrug, "It's... interesting."

He chuckles, pulling his face back, "How're you feelin'? You wanna stop?" You look up at him like he's crazy and he laughs again, putting his hands up, "Okay, okay, just askin'."

"I want-" you cut yourself off, feeling blood rush to your cheeks, and he peers down at you softly.

"What d'you want, babygirl?" he murmurs, "I'll give it to you."

You reach up to tug at the collar of his shirt, finger the buttons there, "I want this off," you breathe, "Want all of it off."

He nods slowly, eyes hooded as his eyes fall to your wet lips, "Okay, what else?"

"Want you to fuck me," you whisper again, as if he doesn't already know. Your hand reaches downward to carefully cup the long shape of him through his pants with trembling fingers, "Want it inside."

He reaches down, covers your hand with his and squeezes softly, "You want what inside, baby? Words."

"Your cock," you whisper, edged with a whine, "Want your cock inside me, Joel. Please. No more teasing."

He smiles softly, "Okay, baby. No more teasin'."

Watching him undress sends tingles all throughout your body, lips parting as he undoes the buttons of his shirt and tosses it to the floor, reaches for his belt buckle and slowly starts to unfurl it. He keeps his eyes on your face, watches your expression as you bite your lip and assess the way his cock juts out underneath his pants, begging to be taken out and touched, played with. The thought makes you sit up on the bed, lean toward the edge and dig a few of your fingers into his waistband, pulling him closer.

He watches as you slowly move forward to mouth his cock through his pants, lips parting and stretching around the big shape. You sigh in contentment at the feeling of it pulsing through the material against your tongue, drag your mouth up and down a few times as a whimper gurgles in your throat.

"Thought you said no more teasin'," he murmurs, and you feel his hand come to rest at the back of your head, helping you move. You moan softly around his length and you can practically hear the smile in his voice when he says, "Just need it so bad, don't you?"

You do. You can't count the number of days you've thought about it now, thought about it against your face, your thighs, your pussy. You want it everywhere - you want him everywhere. You've waited so long and you're tired of being patient, of waiting for the right time, the right moment. It's here, it's now, and you're ready.

"Please," you breathe again, pulling your mouth off his clothed cock and looking up at him with wide, almost tear-filled eyes, "Please fuck me, Mr. Miller."

His eyes go dark and the smile fades from his lips, hands coming down to unzip and unbutton quickly as you lay back on the bed and open your legs. It takes no time at all for him to be completely naked, pants and underwear thrown haphazardly off to the side while he crawls back on top of you and starts kissing your neck again, skin rough and warm. Your hands come up to grip his bare back, eyes closing as you let him silently worship you, kiss every inch of skin he can reach.

You can feel the heavy length of him on your thigh, settled there as it pulses and leaks. It's so big, so thick, and you can't help but reach down and engulf it in your small fist, fingers still unable to go all the way around. He groans into your skin, pulls back to look at you again.

"D'you want me to use a condom, babygirl?" he asks, even though he knows the answer - he wants to hear you say it, which you appreciate.

"No," you whisper, "Please don't."

He groans again at your words, reaches his hand down and easily slips two of his fingers inside of you without any resistance. You're so ready, have never felt more ready for anything in your entire life. You know you should be reveling in the moment, taking time to enjoy and appreciate - but at the same time you just want him inside of you already, want to be connected to him in the rawest of ways, complete. You can't wait anymore, you can't. He starts to add his third finger and you whine, wishing it was something else.

"Gotta open you up a little more, sweetheart," he tells you quietly, filling you with all three fingers and slowly starting to pump them in and out, "Want this to feel good for you, don't wanna hurt you."

"I want your cock, Joel," you mewl, tears welling in your eyes.

"Shhh," he kisses you gently, fucks you slow, "I know, baby, I know. Just a minute now, sweetheart. Be patient for me."

"Don't wanna be patient," you're starting to sound like a bit of a brat but you really don't care, the desperate and touch-starved part of you just aching to be filled up, held close, fucked deep. "Wanna feel you in my stomach, please."

"Jesus Christ," he mutters, almost a groan as he pulls his fingers from you and drags them against his cock, taking it from you carefully and then pumping himself twice with your release, "Okay, babygirl, I hear you, I got you."

Joel eases himself downwards carefully, hovering over you like he had last weekend. He kisses you again, soft and safe, a quiet reminder that what's about to happen means more than what it seems like on paper, means more than either of you could even articulate. He peers into your eyes tenderly, reaches up to push some stray hairs out of your face.

"I'm gonna go real slow," he tells you, "You tell me the second somethin' doesn't feel right, okay? Promise me."

"I promise," you whisper, hands splaying across his back and pulling him down further so your breasts are pushing softly against the hair on his chest, impossibly close. You just wanna feel him, feel all of him.

When he says slow - he means slow.

You'd felt the tip of him last weekend, were already anticipating the burn and stretch, but this time there's not the same desperation, the same time limit or rush. Now you have all the time in the world, the clarity to take it as slowly as you need to in order to really feel everything, make it count. You feel the shape of his wide head carefully nudge the tiniest bit into your throbbing heat, and your eyes immediately go wide.

"You're okay," he reminds you softly, just like he had last time, "You're alright, angel."

Your nails dig into his back and you nod, peering up at him with a look that you hope says, I know, and I trust you, because you do. He kisses you gently and you feel his hand at your thigh, pushing you open a little wider for easier access. The garter strap strains against your legs but neither of you make any move to remove it.

He pushes inside a little further, his whole tip crowding the space at your entrance once again. You make an odd sound, something that comes from the back of your throat, and he freezes.

"Okay?" he asks, and you frantically nod. "That's the tip of me, baby. You got it, you're doin' so good."

"More," you whisper, voice breaking, "More, please."

He reaches his hand back up and locks it into place on the headboard above you, holds himself up as his knees dig into the plush cotton of the duvet. With his other hand he slowly eases more of his cock inside, just a little bit.

"Fuck," you hiss, and you can feel it now - the burn, the stretch. It's not painful by any means, but it's not comfortable either. You make a face and Joel stills, brow furrowing.

"Hurts?" he asks softly.

"N-not really," you breathe, "It's just - it's really thick."

He kisses you again, noses the side of your face and inhales deeply, "You tell me when to move," he murmurs, "You're in control from this point forward, babygirl. What you say goes."

You take a few deep breaths, eyes closed as you hold Joel to you and revel in the way he peppers tiny little kisses all over your face, your nose, your eyelids. Now it's his turn to be patient, and he's certainly much better at it than you are.

"Okay," you breathe after a moment, "Okay, you can move."

He inches in another little bit and your hips stutter, hands trembling against his back. You don't say anything, just grip him tighter and bite down on your lip - more stretch, more burn. But there's something about it, something about the odd sensation of being spread open, that has your pussy suddenly throbbing - and you whine.

"Tell me to pull out and I will," he murmurs in your ear, "We can spend some more time-"

"No," you whimper, shaking your head, "No, Joel. It feels good." You grip tighter to him and tangle your ankles with his, wanting to be even closer than you already are, "Keep going, please."

It goes like that for a while - a continuous push, inch by inch, a whine or whimper, a check-in from Joel, reassurance that you're alright, then the cycle starts again. You quickly grow accustomed to his girth, the stretch getting significantly less and less the longer he stays pressed inside of you. You're painfully aware that this probably isn't the sexiest experience for him, that he'd probably much prefer being able to go deep and stay deep and pound you senseless - and as much as that thought also appeals to you, you know there's no way your body could handle it on the first go.

"M'sorry," you mumble to him quietly during another moment of adjustment, both of you laying still while a little more than half his cock sits patiently inside of you.

"For what?" his eyes scrunch, confusion clear on his face.

"F-for taking forever to get used to it," you admit apologetically, eyes going downcast, "Especially after I begged so many times."

He shakes his head, eyes narrowing, "Do not apologize for somethin' like that, sweetheart. This is about you, not me."

"But I'm-" you take a breath, forcing yourself to be honest, to not keep your worries inside no matter what, especially in such an intimate moment like this, "I'm scared you're not enjoying yourself."

His eyes widen, "Not enjoyin' myself?" He almost laughs, light and soft, "Sweetheart, do you have any idea how fuckin' good you feel?" You shake your head and he leans down to kiss you, moans softly against your lips, "Your pussy's so tight around me, sweet girl" he whispers, "She's pulsin' around my cock, it feels fuckin' incredible."

Your thighs tighten a bit against his waist, center throbbing once again at his words. He groans, and it finally sets in that every throb you feel, every pulsation, every twitch, he can feel it too. Because he's inside of you.

"You're inside me," you whisper, and it sounds like such a dumb revelation but you don't care, lip trembling a little bit as your fingers stroke gently against his back.

"I'm inside you," he echoes, voice soft and reassuring, "M'not goin' anywhere, baby. Gonna take it as slow as you need me to."

He's so gentle, so tender, it makes you want to cry. How did you get so lucky to be having your first time with someone like this? Someone who genuinely wants you to feel good, feel taken care of? Someone who feels beyond amazing? His cock is so big, so perfect; he feeds it to you over the next few minutes, makes you whine and cry out in the dim light of the hotel room, legs trembling and hands coming up to cover your eyes as he finally bottoms out, finally eases himself completely inside of you - and stills.

Full. You're so full. It's the only word that seems to cross your mind, any and all other vocabulary going completely out the window the longer you lay there with his cock buried deep inside. He carefully pulls your hands back from your face and kisses you again and again, murmuring praise.

"You're doin' so good, angel," he whispers, "Takin' it so well, such a good girl."

It's not that filthy of a thing to say, but his words do something to you then that you can't really explain. Odd sounds escape your throat, slip past your lips pathetically as you squirm a bit beneath him. Your eyes shut tight, heart beating fast, not a thought in your brain other than the fact that there's a huge appendage lodged so deep inside of you that you can't even think, can't speak.

"I know," he's whispering, carding his fingers through your hair, "I know, baby. That cock is so big, I know, I know," he kisses your temple, holds you close, "So big inside that little pussy."

"Joel," is all you manage to whimper out, toes curling in pleasure, "Joel."

"I know," he murmurs again, and you swear he pushes his hips forward just a little bit more, the heavy shape of his balls pressing firmly against your ass, "I'm in your tummy, baby, just like you wanted."

At his words your shaky hand travels downward to feel your stomach, press your palm against the skin there, and your eyes snap open when you realize you can feel him there - near the bottom of your tummy, feel the long and thick shape of him bulging out from beneath.

"Fuck," you breathe, and his eyes meet yours, dark and hungry, "Fuck, I f-feel it."

His hand comes down and covers yours, helps you move the garter belt out of the way to shape your fingers around the long shape of him. You can feel the fat head pulsing deep within you, pushing against something you didn't even know was there, every throb sending constant gushes of release around his cock. You must be a mess down there, slick dripping down your thighs as you whine again and reach up to tangle your fingers in his hair.

"Ohmygod," the words are almost slurred, garbled, and you're realizing very quickly that talking with a cock inside of you is very difficult. Your thighs squeeze together again and Joel groans.

"God, you feel so fuckin' incredible," his expression is wrecked, plump lips parted as he inhales and exhales, "You're chokin' my cock, honey."

You can't wrap your mind around the fact that this isn't it, that simply having his cock buried deep inside you isn't the actual sex itself. Because how can just this feel so good? How can you feel so close, so full, so wonderful, all from just this?

Joel leans down and buries his face in the pillow, nudges his nose to your ear and whispers, "D'you want me to move, babygirl?" to which you immediately respond, "Yes."

At your okay he slowly eases himself out of you, the sensation unlike anything you've ever felt before as inch by inch he leaves your body until just the head sits heavy and waiting at your entrance. He looks down at you, thumbs your cheek, and murmurs, "Who's my good girl?"

You shiver, moan softly, eyes closing again, "I am," you whisper.

Just as slow, he pushes himself back inside, and you cry out and bury your face into his neck, legs shaking.

"Who is?" he asks you again, burying himself to the hilt and stroking up and down your naked body gently with one hand, "Who's my good girl? Tell me again, angel."

"I am," you repeat, a bit louder this time and drenched in pleasure as he slowly pulls out again, leaving you almost empty. "Joel," you whisper, and he pulls his face back to look at you, nipping at your bottom lip and pouting at your already fucked-out expression, "Joel, it feels so good."

"I know, baby," he murmurs, then eases himself back in, brings your hands down to your stomach again to feel the way his cock protrudes lewdly against the skin, "You're takin' it so well."

"I-I've-" you whimper, tears overflowing, "I've n-never-"

I've never felt like this before, you want to say. I've never felt so close to another human in my life. I've never wanted to live in a moment more than I want to live in this one.

Instead, he just brings a finger to your lips, eases himself out again and murmurs, "I know," like it's a mantra, "I know."

You feel him thumb your clit and you can't believe that anything could feel this good, that anything could even compare to the way it feels to have Joel everywhere like this, so deep inside and above and all around, his scent lingering in every move he makes, his hair pressing firm to the softest parts of your body. He's so warm, so safe, and more than anything all you can think about is that thought from before, the one you know now to be absolute - I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.

He keeps the pace slow, doesn't let go of you or pull away even once. You already know you're not gonna last, not with his thumb rubbing you like that and his cock so unrelenting and huge inside of you, filling you up in a way you never thought possible. You're pretty sure that you've only got one more orgasm left in you tonight but you don't feel worried or stressed out by that fact - you have a whole weekend for more of this, to explore and experience and enjoy.

"I'm gonna come, Joel," you breathe, and you can feel tears stinging your eyes as you say the words, "I'm gonna come, I'm gonna come."

"Okay, baby, that's it," he encourages you softly, thumb unrelenting against your clit, "Lemme feel you come, angel. Let it out for me. Give it to me, sweetheart." And you do.

Coming around his cock feels fucking incredible. Your pussy tightens and throbs, releases more slick than you could even imagine, and you feel yourself start to cry, tears flowing down your face as a sob wracks from your throat as you pull him down on top of you. He fucks you through it, groaning in your ear at the way you continue to choke his cock, tight and firm.

"Fuck," he groans, "Fuck, angel, I don't think I can last."

"Then don't," you cry into his ear, eyes shut tight as your body convulses, "Don't wait, Joel. Want you to come inside me, want it so bad."

He makes an unhinged noise, his thrusts becoming a little faster, a little more erratic. Without warning you kick your legs up to wrap around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer and letting out another loud moan when you both hear the sound of his balls slapping against your ass. He's so deep. So, so, so deep. Just like he said he'd be.

"Fuck," he mumbles in your ear, "Fuck, I'm comin', honey, I'm comin'." At his words you feel the massive length of him pulse deep inside, your walls constricting around the intrusive shape as he starts to come. Your eyes go wide, mouth opening in a silent gasp of pleasure as you feel the warm spurts of his come begin to coat your walls, filling you up.

"Joel," you breathe, and you're pretty sure your nails have broken the skin of his back but he doesn't seem to care - if anything it makes him groan even louder, makes him pull back to look at you and make direct eye contact as he empties himself. You stare at each other, eyes wide, lips parted, and he leans forward to press his forehead to yours as his jaw clenches.

The moment he's finished coming he falls on top of you with his entire body weight, something you welcome instantly. Your hands roam up and down his back, feel the crescent moon shapes lining his skin as you close your eyes and let the reality of what's just happened wash over you, settle into your very being. It's only when you shift a little underneath him that Joel finally pulls himself up to look at you. He's so beautiful, hair a mess, lips red and raw, cheeks flushed, and tears shining in his soft brown eyes. He nuzzles his nose against yours and breathes a long sigh, one of satisfaction and contentment.

"Stay inside me," you whisper. You don't know why it's the first thing you say, but somehow it feels like the most important. Because the idea of him separating from you now after what you've just shared, the idea of not being within his embrace or feeling as connected as you feel right now - it sounds like the worst thing in the world.

"Okay, angel," he murmurs, eyes sleepy, "M'not goin' anywhere."

You close your eyes, breathe him in.

I love you.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #fic: feelings on fire #*

[percyluvr]

hey babes, could you maybe do like a percy x reader where he gets home from AHS one day and just walk in on his mom and gf just having the ultimate gossip session and being besties, idk i just thought that would be funny

percy jackson x fem!reader summary: percy comes home from a long day at school to find his girlfriend and mother immersed in a juicy gossip session wc: 668

Since the day you'd met Sally Jackson, she'd been your favorite person in the whole world, even surpassing your own boyfriend, who just so happened to be her son. Apparently, being a great person just ran in the Jackson family.

Luckily for you, Sally had also taken an immense liking to you, considering you her own daughter. The two of you bonded over various common interests, as well as your worry about Percy.

At first, Percy had been the main thing the two of you bonded over, but the two of you eventually realized that you had a lot in common, one of these things being your love for gossiping. The two of you gossiped every day without fail, even on the days that the two of you didn't see each other in person. The two of you talked long into the night on the phone, Percy overhearing it whether he was at home or with you, and he always pretended to be jealous that the two of you were 'ignoring' him in favor of talking to each other, to which you and Sally would just laugh and continue talking about people that neither of you really even knew that well.

Today, Percy was tired beyond belief, having a test or quiz in almost all of his classes. He was walking home, the only thoughts on his mind being you and a long nap. Yes, he was a demigod, and yes he fought many hour long battles, one of which being a full day of school, and he was now a sleepy boy who just wanted to cuddle with his girlfriend.

Unfortunately, the gods were not looking favorably at him today, because when he finally made it home, he found his girlfriend and mother sat on the couch, seemingly very immersed in a conversation.

While it wasn't out of the ordinary for you to be at his house before him, what was unusual was the fact that when he walked in the door, near you nor his mother even batted an eye in acknowledgement of his presence.

Typically the two of you would at least give him a small 'hi', but not today.

"Hey, I'm home," he said, thinking that the two of you must not have noticed the door opening.

You and Sally didn't even acknowledge him, opting to continue your gossip session instead.

His mouth opened, but no words came out.

Paul Blofis, Percy's step-dad, let out a small sigh, causing Percy to look over at him and finally notice he was there.

Paul gave him a pained smile. "They've been talking like this since I got home," he stated.

Percy gave an empathetic nod, pulling up a chair next to Paul.

"Let's see how long they talk before realizing we're even here," Percy half-jokes.

"Sounds fun," Paul agreed.

It was, in fact, not fun, because the two boys sat there for around 4 hours before you and Sally even looked in their direction.

It was around 9 pm when you and Sally finally stopped talking and acknowledged the two sitting there nearly dozing off.

You got up and grabbed Percy's hand, leading him to his room and plopping down on the bed. His arms went around your waist as he pulled you close to him.

"What were you and my mom even talking about that was so interesting that you completely ignored me when I said hi?" He asked.

"Percy, Sally and I have gossip sessions daily, and they cannot be interrupted. It's very vital that we get to talk about other people for at least 2 hours a day, otherwise we might die," you joke.

"Really? You two do that every day? How do you not run out of things to talk about?"

"Oh you sweet summer child, you underestimate our ability to find gossip-worthy topics."

Percy realizes that he will not ever understand the two most important women in his life and just hums in acknowledgement of your words before falling soundly asleep.

#pjo #pjo series #percy jackson x reader #pjo x reader #percy jackson #pjo x you #percy jackson fic #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson x you #book percy jackson #so i need to have a gossip session with sally jackson IMMEDIATELY #this was such a cute request wtf

[nohaijiachi]

Why I Think The Fandom Has Been Doing Aziraphale Dirty Ever Since Season 1 And It's Only Gotten Worse With Season 2 And It's Killing Me Inside

Before we get into the subject matter of the title let me preface a couple of things:

1- All that will follow is, big surprise, my opinion and my interpretation of this character. Do I think I am The One And Only Who Gets The Blorbo Right and that my ideas are 100% the way the author(s) intended to convey the character? No.

More likely than not the way I see Aziraphale could be intensely different from the way Authorman sees him, or Actorman sees him, and I don't think that my interpretation is necessarily any more correct than anybody's else.

That said, if I also did not think that I am, in fact, correct on a certain level, I wouldn't have bothered forming such a thought out opinion of Aziraphale in the first place, nor would be sitting here, writing this post that I can already tell is going to be entirely too long and might probably ruffle some feathers.

So I'll be writing the rest of this post with the caveat that I while I do think my interpretation correct, I'm also not trying to change anybody's mind nor to discredit anybody's else interpretation of Aziraphale. We can sit here in the sandpit and hold different opinions and still be able to build sandcastles together, it really isn't that deep at the end of the day; I can assure you, I'm not here to fight nor cause fights with this one.

2- With the above point, comes also the fact that I won't bother continuously saying "In my opinion" for the rest of this post. You already know that. So, if something will come across as a bit caustic, do know that it is very much tongue in cheek and I am poking a bit of fun at general fannish habits that I am also very much quote-unquoute 'guilty' of having partaken into, and will partake into again plenty of times in the future, I'm sure.

So, with that: Here's Why I Think The Fandom Has Been Doing Aziraphale Dirty Ever Since Season 1 And It's Only Gotten Worse With Season 2 And It's Killing Me Inside

A large part of the people comprising this fandom prefers Crowley. There, I said it.

This fandom's preference blatantly skews toward Crowley. Can we admit that openly? Let's admit that openly.

To be clear, this isn't meant to be an accusation or recrimination or any other -ation you can think of, I am merely stating matter-of-factly a phenomena I've observed in the last four years.

It is also not a wrong nor bad thing in any way, shape or form. I adore Crowley myself. I love them both so much it's unreal.

But I started with that because I think it is very much a symptom of the fact that a lot of people don't get Aziraphale.

I remember back with S1 there had been plenty of times when I found myself reading discussions and opinion exchanges about Aziraphale and Crowley, their dynamics, all the things that went unsaid behind the things that were said, and found myself genuinely surprised by seeing how some people interpreted certain moments wildly different from how I personally saw them.

I look back at that and I think "Oh, sweet summer child". Nothing could have prepared me from the onslaught of takes about Aziraphale that make me go "Good lord, what???" in the wake of S2, and the infamous Last Fifteen.

Now because I don't want to be pointing fingers at specific things and risk upsetting somebody more than I already am by being open in admitting that, guys, yes, some of the takes y'all have been sharing make me go "Yikes(tm)", I'll move on the interesting part and what I would actually love to discuss, aka cracking Aziraphale's head open and see what that actual fuck is going on in there.

Another preface: Because this duo is intrinsically linked and woven together it is downright impossible to only focus on Aziraphale without also mentioning Crowley, so... Let me circle back to our fav demon bae for a sec, here.

I think the reason why it seems that a larger part of the fandom favors Crowley is because I feel like Crowley is a much easier character to grasp. He is very open in his thoughts and feelings, at any given moment us, the audience, have a much easier time watching a scene and sort of ruminating in the back of our heads about Crowley's motivations for saying the things he says and doing the things he does.

That isn't to say Crowley is a less complex character than Aziraphale. They are very much equally complex and multifaceted individuals with their strengths and weaknesses, their issues and the way they each cope with them, how differently they approach their existence and so on and so forth.

But whereas Crowley as a character presents itself with a certain dynamism and a far more outward openness about his complexity, Aziraphale does the exact opposite; we can say Aziraphale is downright hermetic about it.

For us, the audience, he presents a challenge that requires a good deal of thought being put into him to see over the facade he presents at a more superficial level; he requires time and effort to fully dismantle him in our minds to try and see what makes him thick (other than his thighs), and thus I think it is entirely natural that more people latch on the far easier to identify-with, and relate-to, Crowley.

And that is the inevitable consequence of everything that makes Aziraphale... Well, Aziraphale.

So, where to start? Let's try and jot down what Aziraphale truly is at his core.

He is a contradiction.

This man-shaped being is a walking contradiction, constantly existing in a state of being coated in three thousand layers of misdirection and obfuscation and double thinking.

Why is that? Well. He's an angel.

Aziraphale loves being an angel. It is a tenet of his entire existence and something he cherishes. He wants, so very much, to be his ideal of what a good angel is: An entity who is kind and loving and understanding and forgiving.

Of course us, the audience, know that is utter bullshit, because we know angels can be individuals just as complex as the humans Aziraphale loves so much, with all their inherent flaws and capability for cruelty. And, on a certain level, Aziraphale knows that too.

So there we have it, one element of contradiction: Aziraphale wants to think that angels are always Good and Righteous and Never Wrong; Aziraphale knows that angels aren't, in fact, always Good and Righteous and, by god, can they make plenty of mistakes, too.

What else? How about Aziraphale sitting there, being in love with a demon, fully knowing that at the end of the day demons really ain't that different from angels, and also desperately hanging onto the concept of Good vs Bad.

And he sits there, existing with these two contrasting idea equally taking space in his mind, neither side ever capable of taking over the other.

What else do we have? Aziraphale loves God and wants so hard to believe in Her love for humanity and Her ineffable plan, and Aziraphale also time and again does things that very blatantly go against Her will, lies to Her face, and Doubts. He Doubts, a lot, and that requires the capital letter because those Doubts are what spur him in going against everything he's ever told to believe in order to do the right thing.

Aziraphale's very existence is a constant push-and-pull of things he wants to believe and things he knows are real; things he's told to do and things he wants to do. That's how we get "My side" and "there's a bit of good in you" and "you are the bad guys".

And nothing he's lived through has managed to break him out of this unhealthy way of existing quite yet; that's why he acts the way we see him act in the Edinburgh flashback in S2, or at the start of S1 when Crowley has to ease Aziraphale into the idea of trying to stop Armageddon with the usual song and dance of "temptation" and "plausible deniability" and "you'd be thwarting me", even though from the start we can tell there's a little part of Aziraphale who is clearly not at ease with the idea of the end of the world, and once he's been given 'permission' by Crowley nudging him, he is all the way in with the whole saving the world business, not take-backsies.

Both the moments I mentioned here are very important for different reasons, but of the two is very much the Edinburgh flashback that gets a lot more flack by the fandom and is blatantly misunderstood, which I think is the inevitable consequence of that minisode immediately following the glorious, beautiful, heartbreaking piece of art that is the "A companion to owls" minisode.

I've seen a lot of people lamenting that Aziraphale acts obnoxiously in the Edinburgh flashback and, yeah. He does. But I feel like the fact that we are seeing this after watching Aziraphale struggle his way through saving Job's children, even being willing to go to Hell for it, is a though act to follow and probably soured Edinburgh-Aziraphale for a lot of people, made them think that the character had regressed instead of progressing.

But, see, the way he acts is wholly congruous with who Aziraphale is and has always been and keeps being up to the very end of S2. Yes, even after what he does for Job's children.

If you get down to it, Aziraphale had been ready to give up and let the children die, in episode 2. For a brief moment, after Crowley told him he 'longed to destroy the blameless children', Aziraphale was walking away, having tried all he thought he could try to do to stop this senseless act. That was until Crowley tested him by making the crows bleat, cuing Aziraphale to the fact that his impression of Crowley wasn't wrong, and the he could count on him to do the right thing.

To be clear, I don't want to undermine Aziraphale's action by only giving the credit to Crowley but... It is, also, only thanks to Crowley cajoling him and giving him the right excuses, that Aziraphale feels safe in doing what he's always wanted to do all along.

He'd wanted to save Job's children, and thought he couldn't until Crowley threw him that hell of a lifesaver. He wanted to save the world and thought he couldn't until Crowley nudged him on the path of plausible deniability.

He wanted to save Elspeth's eternal soul, blinding himself to the hardships she'd have to endure in her not-eternal life, and was smacked right in the face by the reality of human suffering multiple times.

The way Aziraphale acts in that flashback can't be a regression, because there never was a progression in the first place: He'd always walked the line between Heaven's and God's will and his own, personal morality and sense of justice.

By all means, if we look at Uz-Aziraphale and modern-day-Aziraphale at the start of S1, his reticence about the whole saving the world business should, by all means, appear as a regression as well. You mean to tell me that he'd been ready to become a demon for the sake of three mortal children, and then suddenly a handful of thousands years later when faced with the prospect of the whole world going up in flames he'd just be all like "Heaven will triumph over Hell and it will be all rather lovely"? Like, fuck off, Aziraphale, you lying double-thinker, you (/pos)

Aziraphale constantly exist while being at war with himself. Circumstances have allowed him to rebel the will of Heaven and God more or less safely time and again, but he never quite managed to break free entirely. He'd always ended up being reeled back in, being fed the party lines, being made to feel shame for his independent thinking, until it all becomes too much and he is forced to step back from that freedom he'd been inches away from grasping.

Back and forth, back and forth, never stopping.

And all of this, all of what he is, makes it so hard for us, the audience, to truly see him. To truly grasp him. To truly watch any given scene with him and figure out what he might be thinking or feeling.

To understand Aziraphale is to understand what he is not saying when he says something, which is a good deal harder to do than it is to understand and relate to a character like Crowley, who very much revel in saying exactly whatever the heck he thinks whenever he damn well pleases.

All those layers of obfuscation and misdirection and double thinking that Aziraphale coats himself in are as much an armor that makes it harder for the audience to understand him as they are his very own downfall because, good lord, if you exist like that, if you exist forced to keep things hidden from yourself, well... It's inevitable that at some point you are going to stumble into pitfalls of your own making.

And I love him for it.

So, there? I hope I managed to explain something with this post, and that it wasn't just the rambling of someone who spends way too much time thinking about her blorbos. To be clear, I don't think people who haven't spent as much time as me trying to dissect and better understand Aziraphale's character are like, dumber than me or anything. It's just that this pair of angelic-demonic blorbos take too much real estate in my mind, lol.

Feel free to let me know your opinion and if you think I am wildly off mark and my Take Is Bad. I might answer, I might not, it all depends on time and my mood ◝(ᵔᵕᵔ)◜

#good omens #good omens 2 #meta #aziraphale #I love one(1) hypocritical angel #flaws and all #I want to create an Aziraphale protection squad sometimes

[star-girl69]

imagine the little family but reader gets hit on by one of the new campers and the rest of the camp is waiting to see ivy and clarisse reaction 🌚

I LOVE THIS OMMGGGGGG

no bc this is specifically so funny and dear to me bc imagine

you’re like sitting with ivy and playing in the sand on the beach having a fun time

and then hi harry from better than revenge in an alternate universe

clarisse has been so busy lately bc it’s the start of summer and there’s all these new campers and things

so you haven’t been around each other as much 💔

dumbass harry walks over to you and is like “it’s so sweet how you treat your younger sibling like your own”

and ivy is preening at the attention of this nice boy who quickly realizes the way to your heart is through ivy

you just think he’s nice and playing with ivy in the sand and making a killer sand castle tbh….

then he says smth a little flirty like a compliment but neither you or ivy think much of it at first

then he’s like “oh hey here you have some sand on your face” and leans so close to you to brush your cheek with his thumb

woah buddy 😟😟😟😟😟

ivy is like ok what the freak (she’s not supposed to swear) (let’s be real she still does)

bc like she’s not dumb….. she knows the only person who touches you like this is clarisse and yeah this guy is nice but she doesn’t like him THAT much

he doesn’t look that strong he can’t be her jungle gym she’s not liking it

you’re sitting there in shock and ivy is getting mad bc HE SHUFFLES CLOSER TO YOU

she climbs into your lap and starts SCREAMING bloody murder and kicking out wildly at harry

“Y/N I WANT TO GO Y/N I WANT TO GO I WANT TO GO I WANT TO GO”

so you pick her up and rush your little butts out of there and harry is trying to follow you bc THIS BITCH WILL NOT GIVE UP DAMN

and you’re looking over your shoulder like GO AWAY

after another second you think he’s gone so you set ivy down

you crouch down and you’re pretty sure she just didn’t like harry flirting w you but you just wanna make sure smth wasn’t actually wrong

“hey are you guys okay?”

“RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH” is ivy’s war cry as she jumps on top of harry and starts screaming and kicking and hitting him

AND YOURE SCREAMING TOO BC WTF??????

“IVY YOU GET DOWN RIGHT NOW NO DESSERT FOR THREE DAYS I SWEAR”

eventually everyone kinda heads towards the commotion of this 10 year old screaming and attacking harry and you desperately trying to pull ivy off of him

that is when clarisse walks over

she just stares at the scene for a second in absolute shock

then harry finally pushes ivy off of him and she FLIES into you like he pushed her HARD bc he’s a BITCH

and you weren’t expecting it so you fall back w ivy in your arms

CLARISSE IS ABOUT TO GO INSANE

she runs over but harry is like NO NO NO MY CHANCES ARE RUINED

so he’s desperately trying to help you up and you’re like oh my god i think i’m gonna die

ivy starts attacking him like a feral dog again

“YOU- HURT- MY- Y/N- STUPID HEAD!!!!!!!”

you need a leash for her atp

but by the time clarisse makes it over to you she realizes what’s going on

she crouches down next to you and says ivy’s name really intimidatingly and ivy is like

“OMG HI CLARISSE I LITERALLY SAVED Y/N’S LIFE ARENT YOU PROUD OF ME”

and after she looks over you and sees that your find just a little shocked and very tired (motherhood is hard) she decides to glare at harry

“okay and what does that mean?”

“ok so we were playing in the sand and then harry comes over and he’s nice and he’s helping me build my sandcastle and then he starts TOUCHING Y/N and getting all CLOSE TO HER and i was like woah wait hold on what the freak so then i threw a tantrum so we would leave BUT HE KEPT FOLLOWING!!!!!!! I JUST WANTED HIM TO GO AWAY BC YOURE THE ONLY ONE WHO TOUCHES Y/N LIKE THAT SO I ATTACKED HIM AND THEN HE PUSHED ME SO I ATTACKED HIM MORE BUT NOW YOURE HERE!!!!!!”

harry is just horrified bc that’s exactly what happened this child was just throwing a tantrum 5 minutes ago how is she so articulated

she’s just smart like that tho

clarisse is like “oh so you’re flirting with my girlfriend? are you dumb? literally everyone knows.”

harry just accepts defeat and mutters a few choice words under his breath and walks away

clarisse debates about punching him but decides that ivy has already done all of the work for her

ivy hugs clarisse so tight

“you are so amazing my little warrior you did such a great job protecting y/n i am so proud”

then you join the hug “yes you’re my little knight in shining armor but please remember violence is not always the answer”

ivy and clarisse share a look like “this crazy lady just be saying stuff”

“EXCUSE ME???? BC I KNOW YOU TWO DIDNT JUST LOOK AT EACH OTHER LIKE THAT-”

you try to actually make ivy skip dessert for a few days but she’s so adorable so you give it to her anyways

clarisse teaches her how to properly throw a punch and kick someone

you are not pleased

ivy is ecstatic her new passion is fighting

harry stays far away from you

also percy is now campaigning to bring awareness to the clarisse and mini clarisse epidemic

he is very concerned.

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss @ravisinghs-wife @marsconer @evangelinexo @randomhoex

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue x you #pjo tv show #pjo x reader #clarisse and ivy and y/n: the perfect family

[georgiapeach30513]

Lips Like Sugar

Summary:  Ari only had one choice, and you were made for him.  

Pairings:  Fae King!Ari Levinson X Fae!Reader

Rating:  explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, faerie curses, size kink, objectification, being held in captivity, unprotected sex, PIV sex, creampie, loss of virginity, 18+ ONLY

Word Count:  2.2K

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics​

Looking up at the moon, the old hag continues her journey through the dense forest.  Things were almost ripe.  They were finally aligning.  Her feet trudge through the damp fallen leaves, creating an eerie stomp and drag.  While everyone else was celebrating the Summer King’s birthday, she was completing her life’s work.  

No longer will she be overlooked as a crazy loon.  Her grandmother had set a beautiful plan into motion, and it was nearly complete.  This was the last blood moon before you were ready.  

Bending over the creek side, she drops a crystal into the dark water, before scooping up a bit of liquid, and begins her trek back to her cottage.  You would be ready, and you would be his undoing.  Perfectly formed and bred to be his greatest weakness.  Someone he couldn’t say no to.

Hearing the creek of the door, you scurry back in your cage.  Eyes shimmering as you look up at her, “You’re almost ready my sweet nymph.  Drink it.”

“No,” you whine, shaking your head.  “I don’t want to.  He’ll hurt me.”

“He won’t hurt you.  Sure he’s a king, and you are such a small little nymph, but this is what you were designed for.  Drink it.”

“I don’t want to,” you whisper, pulling your knees up to your chest.  “Don’t make me do this.”

“It’s already done, my child.  By the time the sun comes up the king will be so drunk off summer wine, and human pussy he won’t even think straight.  All you need to do is be seen.  I assure you, Ari will take care of the rest.  He doesn’t have a choice.  He’ll know.  Drink.  It.”

“Please, don’t make me do this.”

“It’s already done,” she croaks out as her hand slips through your cage.  “Don’t you want to get out of here?  Live in the sun?  There are worse faerie kings that could be fucking you.”

“Ari,” a squeaky voice screams in his ear.  Ari’s naked body rolls over on the bed, groaning.  “Ari!  It’s the first day of summer!”

“I know.  I’m summer embodiment,” he pulls his covers up around his face as a few bodies clamor out of his bed.  “Nothing happened.”

“Nothing is going to happen.  They are human.  They can’t change anything.  Get out,” Ari smacks at the little sprite, but he still stands there.  “Ari, it is my duty to get the king out on the first day of summer.  It is your job to be seen, and this birthday is different.”

“Yes, a cruel and unusual curse,” Ari sits up in his bed, glaring at the sprite.  His little friend hands him a pair of pants to cover himself up, but Ari walks over to the window completely nude.  “I will die today if I don’t fuck the right faerie.  Sounds like a fair trade off.”

“Yes, and you’ve made sure to stick your cock in every living thing in the glade.”

“And still this mysterious curse looms over my head.  I am to believe that pussy will be my downfall.  I have literally fucked every fae in Collingswood, and still my sun mark hasn’t fully filled in.  The only fae I haven’t fucked is you, Pip.”

“Oh.  No.  No, I don’t think my ass is your ticket to fully becoming summer.  I think that you need to listen to the curse.  You are to go by the creek bed.  Let her come to you.  And then…”

“Make her come on me.  Over and over again.  Isn’t that what I do?  Stretch them out, ruin them for other cock, and selfishly send them back to the human realm always longing for the golden cock of summer?” Pip rolls his eyes, starting to walk out of Ari’s sleeping quarters.  Ari ever the arrogant asshole.

“You always were full of yourself.”

“Humans were always addicted to me.”

“Because they’re human.  You’re not special.  They can be addicted to anyone of us.  The one to save you is not a human.  That is something you know.  Fine, lay in here, and drown in your covers.  Die on your birthday while Fala takes charge of the glade.  It’s what I would do if I were a coward.  Imagine being scared to fuck someone,” Pip slams the door to Ari’s room, and the fae king looks at his discarded pants.

He wasn’t scared.  He was tired.  Who knew that sex for thousands of years could make one tired.  Grunting, he grabs up his bottoms, and walks out into the forest.  By the creek he would wait.

Ari tosses a rock into the creek before laying back down on the mossy ground.  This was boring.  This would be his deathbed.  Right by the water.  Everyone would know that he didn’t rise to his full capacity, and died because of some ridiculous curse.  A curse that didn’t even make sense.

A twinkle of a giggle has him jolting up quickly, and there you are, sitting on a rock, bathing in the creek.  Your laughter was like music, and your skin glimmered in the sunlight.  “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you before,” he calls out to you.

Taking a deep gulp, you look back to the water, “You wouldn’t,” no one but Fala and her family had ever seen you.

Ari had never seen anyone more beautiful than you.  The embodiment of sexual desire.  Much smaller than his normal fae of choice.  The way he could have you twisted, and manipulated to suit his sexual needs has his head spinning.  And your wings were intact.  No fraying on the edges.  “You don’t travel much?”

“No,” even the simplest of words had your voice ringing in his ear like that most beautiful symphony, and he finds his body pulling him closer to you.  

“Where did you come from?”

“If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me,” he didn’t even care where you came from.  Every part of his body was begging to have you.  It needed you.  “Who are you?”

“The King of Summer,” you didn’t even seem impressed, and didn’t reach for his hand as he tries to pull you out of the water.  “I can command you to do anything.”

“I wish you wouldn’t,” you have never been given a choice of the matter.  Everything you did was because someone wanted you to.  He could command you by more than words.  Ari was gigantic.  Towering over you.  Thick cords of muscle over every inch of him.  You squeeze your thighs together, dreading the inevitable.  Your body ached, and craved him, and it was preparing itself to take his wide self.  

“What is your name?”

“You can call me, Nymph.”

“That is your title.  And you wear it well,” his eyes trace over every inch of your curves.  While he embodied summer, you were the epitome of sexual desire.  “What is your name?”

“I’m the only Nymph in the glade.  You can call me what my maker did.  Nymph,” Ari blows out a puff of air, and you whimper.  Having to look away from him quickly.  

“What’s wrong, Nymph?”

“It hurts,” you struggle to breathe as your arms wrap around your stomach.  “Please?” This isn’t at all what you thought it would feel like.  You had lived your whole life in a cage, knowing that you were created to be Ari’s cocksleeve.  What had once disgusted you, now was needing Ari.  Your body screams for his touch, but your brain doesn't want to ruin someone’s life.

“Please, my King,” Ari’s eyes roll in the back of his head at the sound of your pitiful voice.  He didn’t even know exactly what you were begging for.  Tiny little thing, shivering in the freezing creek, and needing her king.  “Ari, it hurts.”

“What hurts?” You point between your legs, and Ari’s mouth turns up in a crooked grin.  It was you.  The one that would allow him to fully be summer.  To hold the entire light of summer in his body.  “Oh, sweet Nymph, what would make you feel better?”

“I think…ow,” holding your stomach tighter, you have to look away from him.  There was only one thing that would take away this pain, and it was the one thing you swore you would never do.  “Ow…Ari!”

He didn’t even recognize that he had never even given you his name.  He was just as needy for you as you are for him.  Watching as your body starts grinding on the rock, trying to get a relief that will only come by his touch.  “Ari!”

“You have to tell me what you need,” he is mesmerized watching your desperate little body.  Trying to put into words what you are feeling.  Whether the pain was too much or you are too embarrassed he didn’t know.  You scream out his name again, spreading your legs apart, and it’s then he realizes that your hair was the only thing covering yourself from him.

He couldn’t think straight.  Didn’t realize that this was indeed a trap to lure him to you.  Couldn’t fathom how this seemed so perfectly placed.  But your tight little virgin cunt was trembling.  “Nymph?”

“I need you.  Need you to…don’t hurt me though.”

“What was that?  I think you forgot some words,” Ari is an experienced man, and judging by the giant bulge in his pants, he was going to destroy you.  “Nymph I need you to…”

“Fuck me!  Fuck away this pain!”

Pushing his pants down, his thick member springs to life.  Veiny and leaking precum, and you screech.  It was going to hurt.  His tremendous hands grab your legs and arms at the same time.  Keeping you unable to move or get away if you wanted to.  And you did not.  He stares at your weeping cunt, bringing you right up to his face as he watches your core throb and plead for relief.

“That is a tight little cunt.  Are you a virgin?” He asks, licking up your slit.  The sweetest dessert was right in between your thighs.

“Yes,” you whimper.  There was no way to get comfortable.  Ari was going to have you however he wanted.  He spits at your opening, bringing you down to his waist.  “It’s going to hurt.”

“Yes, my sweet, Nymph.  It’s going to hurt a great deal.  But don’t worry, I always make it fit.  But if the curse is correct, that tight little hole was made just for my enjoyment.  You’ll get used to it.”

“Get used to being used.”

“Exactly,” he moans, starting to press your channel over his tip.  “You’re mine.  Say it.  You’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” your voice shakes as he pushes through your entrance.  You hiss.  It hurt, but the relief was immediate.  Warmth moves through your body, as he lowers you over him.  Gaping your hole wide before your balls deep, and chirping at the sensation.  “Ahh!” A cry of pleasured pain echoes through the forest.  

Ari stares at where the two of you connect, grunting at just how good your tiny little self took him.  A tunneled bump on your stomach showing exactly where he was deeply rooted in you.  “Holy fuck,” he pants out.  Power fills him up as the comfort flows through your veins.

You stare at his chest as his sun mark starts to deepen.  “Fuck.  Me,” he had to finish it.  He couldn’t just stand there, holding you on his cock like you were some ornament for his dick.  

“Use.  Me,” he is frozen.  Allowing his body to be taken by summer, but also by you.  His pretty little nymph.  He wouldn’t be dying.  Not today.

“I’m.  Yours,” you mewl, and his eyes snap back into focus.  “Ari, I’m yours.”

He lifts your body off before slamming you over his cock.  Using you as a personal sex toy.  He could throw you, and lift you like you were the weight of a leaf.  Tiny in comparison to him.  His motions are hard and fast, and you have never felt more satisfied.  Your life’s work was complete as he makes you go dumb with pleasure.

“That’s right!  I’m the fucking king!  This is my pussy!  Mine!” He screams to whatever fae is around.  Everyone had seen him fucking before, but never you.  Never saw his body gulp the warmth of summer in its veins.  Had never witnessed a man become weak over a woman like this.  

“Mine!” He grunts out, eyes on yours.  “Mine!” He is possessive.  Letting the forest know you only belonged to him.  You are the reason that he was coming into power.  “Mine!”

He still wasn’t saying the words, and you fear you will be nothing more than wet skin for him.  “My Queen!” And there it was.

Fala’s haunting words whisper into your mind as euphoria overtakes your body, “It’s simple really.  I control you.  I am your maker.  Ari controls you, he is your king.  But…should you become Queen, he has a weakness.  I then control you both.  And I will get my revenge.”

“Ari!  Ari!” You scream into the woods as your eyes go blank.  Nothing had ever felt better.  Nothing will ever feel better.  You were his.  And he is yours.  Ari growls up to the canopy as he empties his load into your stretched hole.  His cream starts leaking down his thighs because your body just couldn’t handle anymore.  Just not now.  He still had some stretching to you.

“I control you both,” Fala whispers as she heads back to her cottage.  “I control them both.”

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot​ @pono-pura-vida @sstan-hoe @missusbarnes-rogers @peaches1958 @seitmai​ @smile1318​ @andydrysdalerogers​ @cjand10​ @midnightramyeoncravings @donutloverxo​ @whiskeytangofoxtrot555​ @bambamwolf87 @harrysthiccthighss @theinheriteddutchess @kmc1989  

#lips like sugar #fae au #fae!reader #fae!ari levinson #ari levinson #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x fem!reader #ari levinson x y/n #ari levinson x you #ari levinson smut #ari levinson fics #ari levinson fic #ari levinson fanfiction #ari levinson fanfic #Red Sea Diving Resort #rsdr #chris evans #chris evans character #fuck or die

[weebsinstash]

Wouldn't it be funny if reader is aware abt the spiderverse being yandere and stuff but still continues to act blissfully unaware and when they found abt the youtwo situation and stuff they used that to their advantage to basically escape the obsessive grasps the yandere spiderverse has. and basically readers all giddy abt it

YouTwo: wow, it sure would be a shame if I started stealing all of this excessive attention you seem to get. I wonder if all your little spider society friends would even be able to tell :)

You: oh my sweet summer child. Oh my little tiny baby still on its mother's milk. Oh my naive ignorant little newborn

You: y'all can fucking HAVE THEM, my guy

You: once I thought I was being nice by offering Miguel some of the extra snacks I was eating while I was delivering a message in-person from another Spiderman and I got close enough that I accidentally saw the holograms he was looking at and this man had been watching another dimension where we were having our wedding

You: Pavitr who has never done anything wrong in his life ever once invited me to a family member's wedding and I was stupid enough to say yes because then I had him and his girlfriend babbling in my ear while I got literal actual personally customized henna, do you have any idea how time consuming and intricate and personal henna is, I felt like I was naked. Beautiful wedding, literally did not have privacy almost that entire day

You: the other week Peter B somehow got the access code from Miguel to have the security clearance to broadcast across the Spider Society and I was in the middle of the cafeteria when literally everyone in the room had their watches light up with his face, "hey I can't find them myself so if anyone sees my other kid let them know how cool they are and how much I love them and how Uncle Pete misses em 🥰" and to this day I can't enter the food court without a literal army of Peter Parkers obnoxiously teasing me, "We LoOOoOooOooVE YoU SwEEtiE"

You: Jess got overwhelmed with the pregnancy hormones once and she asked me how my day was going and I made the mistake of being honest and said I was a little sad and she burst into tears begging me to move into the spare bedroom of her house and asking when I ate last and insisted I join her and her husband for "a family dinner"

You: that Morales kid was feeling kind of depressed so I gave him my perspective on adulthood and how sometimes the only expectations you need to meet are your own dreams for yourself and i told him all these good qualities i saw in him to cheer him up, and now he and Gwen Stacy keep showing up unannounced in my universe to hang out. Do you know how hard it is to avoid someone who can turn invisible. My knees crack when I stand up from sitting down for too long, I can't outrun two parkouring teenagers!

You: the other day i had an earbud fall into the back of my hoodie so I just took it off and shook it out trying to find it and like three different goobers fell out and I pick one of them up and it literally looks like a piece of plastic and I must've accidentally hit something because it said "beep boop boop" in an IRL person's voice and I'm like "hello???" And someone replies "YEAH, LEGO SPIDERMAN HERE"

#yandere spiderverse #but nah ive thought of you letting youtwo take over cause youre like ykw fuck these fuck bitches #yandere stuff #sinprompts

[itzbwmbi]

CAKE BY THE OCEAN ! +18

— “but you're moving so carefully, let's start living dangerously.”

#: my first post on this blog!!! summer-related ‘cause why not. i’ve been dying of heat over here so this is kinda refleshing ngl. 👀 like & rb if you like, it really helps my new blog!!, and ofc, send asks and reqs if you want to:) they're open!

ﾉ summary: in which their desire to fuck you increases even more with the arrival of summer. even in public.

ﾉ content warning: f! reader, modern au, all is consent, stablished relationship, switch! thoma, unprotected sex, public sex (thoma), cockwarming (thoma), creampie (thoma), pet names baby + princess (thoma), dom! childe, semi-public rough sex (childe), he's a bit mean but that's cool :), he puts his fingers on your mouth (idk how's it called sry), pet name doll (childe), hints of dacryphilia and overstimulation (childe), dom! kaeya, public fingering (kaeya), overstimulation (kaeya), mention of punishment (kaeya), praising (kaeya), pet names honey + pretty girl (kaeya) if something's missing lmk.

ﾉ characters: thoma, childe, kaeya + f! reader (separate)

thoma. ∿

“we... we shouldn't be doing this!” a flushed thoma mumbles, unable to breath at what his eyes contemplate — you pushing your tight bikini panties aside with one finger, sliding down on him whisl the pink tip of his cock shoves into your pretty cunt slowly but surely, his girth making its way through your already wet folds, prepared just for him. the boy's hands were firmly gripping the armrests of the beach chair, knuckles turning white from the force of trying not to let out any loud moan. poor thoma was so tense but so desperately horny that he couldn't back down from your suggestion to help him ease his hard cock in the middle of the beach. there weren't many people around, and those who were looking at you with curiosity only saw a couple being quite affectionate, innocently hugging each other while you were sitting on top of him. they didn't know that he was balls deep into your pussy, cock twitching every time your sly eyes met his gaze.

“don't worry, baby, no one knows what we're doing.” you whispered, getting closer to his lips to silence the complaint that was about to come out of his mouth.

but he was actually enjoying all of that. inside, deep inside, having people walk past you innocently without knowing what was happening a few feet away made him even harder. although the only thing that made his moans be heard was you switching on his lap, your hips moving from side to side, forcing thoma to take his hands off the chair and plant them on your hips, pressing down so you'd stop teasing him, crescent marks of his nails showing on your skin. not many seconds later, he was totally flushed, breath taken away and legs shaking slightly. his agape mouth letting out louder moans, panting against your lips, making it clear that he was about to cum inside you, his hands now moving your hips up and down on his cock shamelessly. was someone looking or hearing the clear skin to skin wet slapping? well, he was too stimulated to care. his eyes rolled to his skull, lifting his hips in one last encounter with yours, and releasing all of his hot seed inside your cunt, filling you up oh so nicely. who'd say sweet thoma would be so filthy in public.

“ahh..~ hold on, stay there a little more... please, do it for me, princess, please...”

childe. ∿

“shhh, they'll hear us if you keep whining so loudly. c'mon, you've taken it before... i'm sure you can do it again.” childe amusingly cooed from behind next to your ear. but it was literally impossible to be quiet right now. tears threatened to roll down your rosy cheeks. childe's cock slid in and out of your sloppy pussy mercilessly, your walls tightening around his length each time he reached the deepest spot and left you on tip-toes, boobs squashed against the cold wall. luckily, the locker room door was closed and secured with a latch, but that wasn't enough to make you go unnoticed. you weren't going to keep quiet, not if childe kept pounding into you with such animalistic intensity.

“...too much, s’too much...!” you whimpered louder than you should have, forcing childe to raise his hand to your mouth, his fingers against your cherry lips muffling your cries quite effectively. even when you heard footsteps approaching your door, childe was still thrusting your sore pussy like his life depended on it. his sweat trickled down his forehead, keeping the strands of his bangs glued to his skin, and his breathing was ragged. it was worthy of admiration the stamina he had when he put his mind to it.

a couple of knocks on the door made you gasp, and childe inserted his index and middle fingers into your mouth in an attempt to shut you up. you obediently sucked on his slender digits as he replied in a raspy and unsympathetic voice. “occupied! and it's gonna take long!” then he removed his fingers from your mouth, a mischievous smile darkening his features, leaning close to your ear once more to whisper in it.

“do you want to tell them something too, or you're not gonna talk anymore, doll? you seemed quite chatty a few seconds ago.”

∿ kaeya.

“honey, there are people watching us, keep your composure.” kaeya uttered quietly, seemingly innocent of whatever is happening to you. the reality was very different. beneath that nonchalant expression and under the surface of the water, two of his fingers were stuffed deep into your cunt, widening your gummy walls, hooking them to reach your most sensitive spot without even breaking a sweat. your poor lips were red from biting them, trying hard not to make a sound. how could kaeya ​​be so cruel? making you cum on his fingers for the nth time since you entered the hotel pool. he was so fucking good at fingering, but he always takes it too far.

your abused clit was already swollen, and it still wasn't enough for your boyfriend ​​to stop right there. you don't have to wait long for another orgasm to make your stomach churn with pleasure and pain, overstimulation killing all your strength. if it wasn't for kaeya's grip, you'd be diving into the water, totally exhausted.

“that's right, good girl,” kaeya praised you, finally pulling his fingers out of your numb pussy. truth be told, kaeya was beginning to feel the consequences of his actions, and a prominent bulge was noticeable in his swimsuit. luckily under water nobody could notice it.

“that was impressive, pretty girl... oh, don't look at me like that — you can punish me later, if you wish. i deserve it, after all.”

© itzbwmbi.

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin thoma #thoma x reader #thoma smut #genshin childe #childe x reader #childe smut #genshin kaeya #kaeya x reader #kaeya smut #bwmbi.smut #genshin impact smut

[vivalarevolution]

𝓗𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽-𝓢𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓮𝓭 𝓢𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓱𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓼

Neteyam x Human Reader x Lo’ak

A/N: A little idea I came up with last night while falling asleep. Missing summer, I couldn't resist writing this. I hope you like it , it’s short and sweet. Please remember that english is not my native language, mistakes may occur.

Also, don't be surprised if the reader can kiss etc. without any problem. I think during the time break they had to come up with an alternative to the masks that were worn in the first part.

Sand beneath her feet was pleasantly warm, and the water around her was refreshing. It almost felt like her little heaven, away from any problems and worries. Especially when she had Lo'ak by her side, who faithfully followed her, serving as a porter for all the shells she had decided to start collecting a while ago.

Her small hands from time to time found a place in his large ones, and lips involuntarily met for a fleeting moment, stealing a sweet kisses between the two.

-How many seashells do you need? - the boy asked after a long moment, looking at the girl and how she bent down to search for them.

-Hmm...I honestly have no idea - she confessed, giggling a second later - Guess I just fell into a vortex of searching - she stated, examining her new find, debating whether or not she wanted to keep it.

-As long as I get these kisses, I'll be fine - replied the teenager, crouching down beside her, his tail gliding along her bare leg.

-You'd get them anyway - she pointed out aptly, connecting their foreheads together.

-Then why am I helping you? - he asked playfully, looking at her with adoration in his eyes.

-I'm willing to say it's because you love me - the girl stated, stealing a quick kiss from him - And I can always ask Neteyam. I know he'll be more than happy to help - she added teasingly.

-You wouldn't dare - he replied - These little escapades are only ours.

Y/n couldn't help herself. Laughing loudly, she leaned against the na'vi's torso, her hand clasping his arm for safety. It was always funny to her how Lo'ak was jealous of his own brother who, like him, was also her mate. At first it was hard to come to terms with this kind of relationship but she thought they were over it, apparently she was wrong.

The boy looks at her as if upset, sitting down to make it more comfortable for him to hold the girl in his arms, still, surprisingly, having shells in his palm.

-My sweet Lo'ak, I love you both very much - she whispered into his neck - Please don't be so jealous. I'm not going anywhere.

-I'm not jealous - he muttered like an offended child.

-Oh but you are - she announced - But I like it that way - she added, marking his face with tender kisses that made him close his eyes sighing, giving himself up to a pleasant feeling.

His hands involuntarily slid to her hips, thumbs rubbing her firm skin, trying to pull her as close as possible. He was so addicted to her it was almost sick, but he couldn't help it, loving her attention.

Y/n herself settled her much smaller hands on the nape of his neck, squeezing the blue skin between her fingers again and again, lazily moving to his black hair, which she began to massage, eliciting a soft moan from his mouth.

The moment was sweet, intimate, but it was cut short far too soon.

-What do we have here? - asked an unknown voice, thus interrupting the two.

Lo'ak frowned, and his tail involuntarily tightened on the thigh of the teenager, who moved her mouth away from his skin to look up at the unwanted intruder who was standing above them.

-What do you want? - Y/n asked, much calmer than the boy below her.

-I wanted to know what you two freaks were doing - he said, looking at them with contempt.

-None of your business Ao’nung - girl replied quickly as a draft, getting up from the sand on which she was kneeling.

The boy did not like this answer, it was too ignorant, harsh. He wanted to see anger, frustration.

Touching his fingers to where her tailbone was, he wanted to make her react but seeing this, Lo'ak stood up as if he was burned. Pushing the chief's son hard, hiding Y/n behind him with his free hand, hissing in a warning.

-Don't you dare touch her - he said, holding the girl's body close to him, pointing his finger at Metkayina's member - You'll try again...- he threatened, but a small hand stopped him from further movement.

The teenager stood in front of him, taking the outstretched hand in hers, holding it close to her soft mouth, kissing his knuckles.

-He's not worth it - she announced, not wanting him to get involved in another fight - Let's go, we'll find another place for us - she said, looking firmly at Ao'nung after a while - And you better leave - she added returning to collect seashells that fell from her mate's hand.

Boy covered her again when Ronal's son got too close in his opinion. Staring defiantly at him, almost waiting for an opportunity to knock him out again.

-Your little demon better not touch anything on this beach. We don't want everything to turn to ashes like your home did - he said quietly, only for Lo'ak to hear.

However, despite everything, the girl heard it anyway and closed her eyes. She didn't know what had possessed her, but taking sand into her hand, it was too late to back out.

-You're right - Y/n replied, standing in front of Ao'nung - I'm one of the demons from sky- she confirmed, looking at him hatefully - We are known for many tricks. There's one here. We call it dirty play - she announced before suddenly throwing sand in the na'vi's eyes.

Lo'ak stared contentedly at the view in front of him before the girl tugged at him. Run was the only word he heard before they started to sprint as far as they could while growls and grunts of displeasure could be heard behind them.

The dark haired boy finally caught her around the waist running with her on his shoulder instead of beside her. They were stopped only by Neteyam, who finally returned from the talk with his father, looking for them for several minutes.

-Here you are, I was looking for you two - he informed, and seeing their condition he looked at them more closely, sighing seconds later - What have you done?

Before either of them could answer his question, the chief's son appeared beside them, and this time he was not alone.

-You will pay for this - he growled at the beginning, trying to get to Y/n, which was covered in a split second by the Sully brothers.

Neteyam didn't know what happened in his absence, but nothing justifies anyone to hurt his mate, so without thinking he pushed the boy's shoulder, trying to tower over him, even though they were the same height.

-Back off - he growled in a low tone, just like his brother before, sticking out his finger as if it would stop him.

-Or what? - he asked arrogantly, stepping closer so that they almost bumped their heads.

-Or I do not vouch for myself - he replied in a low tone of voice, and the girl shivered because of that.

Ao'nung and him stared at each other for a moment before the boy raised his hands up, in a silent act showing that he was giving up. But before he left, he looked one last time at Y/n who was tucked under Lo'ak's arm, clinging to him as a last resort, in fact making sure he didn't break free from her grip.

-You can't stay out of trouble, can you? - the eldest sibling asked when they were finally alone.

- It doesn't matter anymore - the teenager replied, letting go of the na'vi's body next to her - Come on I want to look for more shells - she said, not waiting for their reactions and walking ahead.

The boys looked at each other, but neither spoke, obediently following Y/n, who was walking in front of them, now soaking her feet in the water instead of searching as she wanted before.

Only after a few minutes, she stopped, as if noticing something valuable. Bending down, she fingered her little treasure, smiling slightly, then sat on the sand below her, soaking her toes in the crystal clear sea.

-Will you join me? - she asked gently, and in response they sat on her sides, covering her body from the outside world.

-What's up, pretty girl? - Nete asked, stroking her cheekbone.

-Nothing - she said, kissing his cheek and then his lips, missing the feel of his mouth against hers.

Teenager in response pulled her closer, unable to resist her pink lips, sweet scent and the feeling of soft skin under his fingers. Lo'ak quickly clung to her left side as well and began kissing her, trailing down her bare shoulders and neck, causing her to chuckle softly.

Neteyam pulled away from her, happy as her laughter reached his ears and his eyes saw the wide smile that was caused by his younger brother.

Y/n looked at him, her gaze softening involuntarily. Her small hand drew the one that belonged to him kissing his wrist tenderly, and he grabbed hers in response, repeating the act she had done, biting her skin with one of his fangs from time to time.

-I have something for you - she whispered unexpectedly, and the boys stopped doing anything, looking at her expectantly.

She placed her free hand in the handmade pouch in which she had previously hidden the shells she had collected with Lo'ak. Both Jake's sons watched her actions, not noticing how they were getting closer and closer with each passing moment, almost hovering over Y/n.

-What's that? - Neteyam asked, pushing her hair behind her ear to get a better view.

-We were collecting seashells today - his brother explained to him without taking his eyes off the girl.

-These are special seashells... no matter how strange it sounds - she said, carefully rummaging through them for this particular one - Luckily, I found more than one - she added, sticking her hand out in front of her - There would be three but the last one probably stayed where Ao'nung accosted us.

In her hand were two small heart-shaped shells. Both were colored white, in some places decorated with gray or blue aspects.

-Is this what we've been looking for half a day? - Lo'ak asked quietly.

-When I found one, I had to find another - she explained, feeling their structure with her fingertips - I thought I'd give them to you as proof of my love, because even far from our home, our feelings are strong and the sea sees it.

Y/n stared at them with a warm smile, not even noticing as both na'vi's tails started to move, hitting the ground from time to time in excitement. Only when they wrapped around her like ivy did she shift her gaze to them, looking at them with a silent question in her eyes.

-You're too good for us, you know it - Neteyam said adoringly, kissing her forehead.

-Showing love towards someone should not be a duty but something pleasant. And putting smiles on your lips is something that pleases me - she announced, leaning against his chest while Lo'ak rested his head on her thighs.

-We should find this third shell - said the younger of the brothers, grabbing Y/n's hand on which small gifts rested - Then it will be perfect.

-In a minute - the teenager muttered closing her eyes, feeling how Nete's big hand found its place on her stomach and how sun kissed her skin- It's too nice here to go already.

Brothers grunted in approval, focused on Y/n rather than the landscape in front of them.

For a moment it felt like they were the only ones there, and that was the absolute best feeling. Away from problems and troubles or quarrels. At that moment, there were only three of them, just three of them against the world.

#avatar #avatar 2009 #avatar x reader #avatar the way of water #neteyam #neteyam x reader #neteyam x fem!reader #fanfiction #avatar fanfiction #lo'ak #lo'ak x reader #lo'ak x fem!reader #neteyam x reader x lo'ak #pandora #na'vi #na'vi x reader #teen romance #avatar the way of water x reader

[peach-and-bugs]

💚Bean Sprout - Lottie Matthews x fem!Reader💚

Chapter 1 - Ch 2

Fanfiction master list

disclaimer: don't repost my work. I only post on Tumblr and on Ao3. anything else is stolen and should be removed immediately

Summary: You've been happily married to Charlotte Matthews for some odd years now, but it feels like it's time to take a step in a new direction together... aka mama!Lottie

Warnings: Mild nudity, but not really. otherwise nothing

Word Count: 2,839

A/N: Oh my god, it's here and it has a title! Hello Loves! It's finally time for the start of my Mama!Lottie fic that I haven't been able to stop talking and thinking about! This is a pretty light introductory chapter, just setting some of the groundwork for the fic as a whole, but I think it's a really sweet chapter and I really hope you enjoy! As always, feel free to leave questions or comments in my comments or ask box, and happy reading!

Lottie Matthews Tag List: (open) @elliesjoints

Yellowjackets Tag List: @frasersgf @minimickzy

"Bean Sprout" Tag List:

General Tag List: @summergeezburr

-💚-

Summer had hit and become the time of the year when school was letting out and the next generation of kids was graduating from school and heading out into the world. One of these kids happened to be Callie, the daughter of one of your wife’s closest friends. You’d been invited to her graduation party and after making the drive back to Wiskayok, New Jersey you found yourself celebrating in a nice backyard, sitting at a round table under a shady tree with a drink in hand chatting with your wife and some of her other friends. 

You mostly stayed quiet, listening to the conversation rather than chiming in. While you knew Lottie’s friends from high school, you'd been a freshman during their senior year, so there hadn’t been much overlap. You’d only gotten close to Lottie because of you’re excelled French placement and even then you hadn’t connected till you were both much older. They’d always been a kind group of women though, always willing to engage with you. 

“I still can’t believe she’s graduating,” Taissa marveled, her eyes trained on Callie from across the yard as she laughed with her group of friends. 

“Trust me, I know,” Shauna said with a sigh as she took in a swig of her drink only to grimace down into it. “Starting to wish one of them would spike the punch,” she murmured. She was nudged by Natalie, who pulled a flask out of her jacket followed by her eyes darting down at the flask and then back up at Shauna. The mom sighed and offered out her cup, as did Taissa. Your wife shook her head but said nothing while you smiled, biting your bottom lip as you suppressed your giggles. 

“You always were old reliable when it came to boos,” Van said as she approached the group with Misty trailing behind. The two had made a run back to the snack bar earlier. Natalie shrugged nonchalantly, taking a chip from Misty’s plate as the blonde saddled up beside her, taking her seat again around the table

“Someone had to provide,” she hummed, tucking the flask back in her pocket. The conversation drew on to general catching up and Natalie had started telling a story when Taissa’s son Sammy ran up to her and tugged at her sleeve. 

“Mama, they aren’t playing fair,” the boy complained, pointing to the small collection of children who were gathered together in a corner of the yard. One little girl seemed to be telling off another child who had their face red and squished in irritation with crossed arms. The other kids around stood awkwardly listening to the argument, unsure of what to do. A soccer ball lye abandoned between the two children in the grass. Taissa bit her lip before running her hand over her son’s hair. 

“Well, kiddo, sometimes people don’t play fair. But we don't get to tell them what to do,” she started to explain. “Why don’t you suggest another game,” she offered up. Sammy scrunched his face, lips pressed together tightly as he shook his head. 

“They said we can only play soccer because that's the only ball we have,” he pointed to the two arguing children again. Taissa looked on, wracking her brain over what she could suggest instead when Lottie tapped your shoulder and handed you her drink. 

“I can teach you a game, Sammy,” she suggested, smiling kindly as she got out of her seat and began walking toward the group of kids. Sammy seemed unsure for a moment till Taissa patted him on the shoulder. 

“Yeah, that sounds like a great idea! Let your Aunt Lottie teach you something new,” Sammy caved and then smiled with a nod. He trotted after Lottie, who had stopped and was waiting for him only to take her hand when he reached her, guiding her over to the group of kids to interrupt their growing argument. You smiled fondly, watching as she crouched down to talk to the kids, supposedly explaining the game as she took the ball into her hands. 

“Hey Shauna!” a voice yelled from the back porch of the house. You all looked up to see a woman standing at the door, baby on her hip. Shauna’s eyes lit up and she smiled, waving. 

“I’ll be back, it’s my sister and my niece,” she explained, leaving the group to go into the house. She called for Callie as she left, gesturing for the graduate to go and say hello. 

“Jease, everyone’s having kids now,” Natalie mumbled under her breath, pulling her flask back out to pour more of its contents into her nearly drained cup. Tai shrugged with a sigh. 

“Yeah, that’s the next step in growing up these days,” Natalie smirked ans shook her head. 

“Not for me,” she raised her brows, taking a long swig of her drink. 

“I’ve always thought about having kids. Maybe not now, but I thought it over when I was younger and liked the idea,” Misty jumped into the conversation, giving her two cents on the topic. The group nodded, acknowledging what she had to say before a squealing laugh distracted them. Eyes followed back over to Lottie who was now jumping hand in hand with one of the previously arguing little girls, supposedly having won some part of the game she’d taught them maybe. You felt a smile pull at your lips again at the sight of her side profile, eyes shut with an opened-mouth smile as she laughed, her shoulders hunching in with the sound. 

“What about you, y/n?” Van asked suddenly. You shook from your thoughts and turned to her, mildly confused having forgotten the conversation at hand. The redhead tilted her head, gesturing back to Lottie and the kids. “Well, you and Lot are the last of us to have tied the knot without having a kid…” your brows raised, lips pressed as you understood the implication of her question. You felt yourself grow shy under questioning. 

“Oh, I dunno,” you paused, eyes trailing back to your wife, who now stood with her hands on her hips, proudly watching the kids running around their patch of grass, chasing the soccer ball that bounced at their feet. “I mean, the topics come up once or twice but that was back when we were dating. We’ve got Buckweed though,” You brought up your dog instead, who’d been left back at the air b&b you were staying at for the night before driving back home Monday. 

“I always thought Lottie would have kids for sure,” you heard Misty comment again. “She always liked babysitting,” You bit your bottom lip. Did Lottie still want kids? You hadn’t thought of it recently, now that you thought about it. Maybe you’d been waiting for her to breach the subject before you did. Would she regret it if you didn’t have kids? Did you still want them? You felt your brain begin scrambling at all the sudden questions. 

“Hey, you alright?” Tai asked, shaking you from your silent spiral, her hand on your shoulder. You forced a smile and chuckled nervously. 

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m good. Just overthinking,” you mumbled, forcing a laugh. Taissa shared an awkward look with the rest of the group. 

“Lottie would talk about it if she wanted to,” Natalie jumped in, seeming completely unphased. She got disgruntled looks from both Taissa and Van. “What? Am I wrong? Lottie’s always been upfront about things like that,” she turned her attention to you. After a flicker of consideration, you nodded in agreement with her. Lottie had always been very honest with what she wanted, especially with you. If kids had been something she thought about, she’d have brought it up. Foturnintly, the conversation shifted away from you as Shauna rejoined the group, only now she had a baby in her arm, balanced so naturally on her hip. You assumed this was her niece, who smiled brightly and waved as she was brought over to the group. 

“Sorry about that,” Shauna smiled, readjusting the baby as she spoke. “My sisters getting something to eat, so I get to hang on to Pheobe,” she added a higher pitch to her voice, scrunching her nose as she tickled the little girl's stomach.

“Pheobe. That’s a pretty name,” Misty joined in, leaning towards Shauna who she was sitting next to to give the baby her attention. Shauna chuckled as Misty began poking at the baby, making her continue with her babbling giggles. 

“Mckenna was always a big fan of ‘Friends’,” She said with a shrug. “But, she’s eleven months and just started working on walking,” Shauna mused about her niece, who had turned to look over Shauna’s shoulder onto the party. 

“Mom!” you all heard Callie yell from across the yard. Shauna closed her eyes, cursing under her breath at yet another interruption. “Dad can’t find the cake!” Shauna sighed opening her eyes again and grimaced as she stood up. 

“Well, the world must be ending if Jeff can’t find a cake,” she grumbled, causing a few chuckles to sound around the table. But she turned her attention to you momentarily. “Can you take her from me? Just for a few minutes,” she gestured to Pheobe but was already offering her to you. You nodded, managing to ignore any initial hesitation, and took the baby onto your lap, sitting her so she was propped at the table like she was in her chair. Shauna gave you her thanks as she left and Pheobe made an excited squeal as she leaned forward, using her chubby little hands to smack at the table she could now reach. 

Your hands naturally found their place at her sides, giving her just enough wiggle room to move around but not get away from you. You began bouncing your knee just slightly, which she seemed to enjoy as she began gurgling and babbling the few words that she knew as she clapped her hands. You began to smile, looking down at her with her big brown eyes, just like her aunts. 

“Well, aren't you just a sweetheart,” you murmured with a light chuckle as the baby began kicking her feet in excitement from all the colors and sounds of the party around her. Unbeknownst to you, Taissa shared a knowing look between herself, Van, and Natalie as she leaned back in her chair. This was also when the cake was brought out, along with what looked like a truckload of cupcakes and all the kids went running, tearing towards the new treats to load up on even more sugar, subsequently relinquishing Lottie from her duties as entertainment. 

She made her way back to your table, laughing as the kids fought for the first slice of cake or cupcake. She was quite surprised to find you with a baby in your lap. Phoebe has started playing with your fingers, grabbing at your hands and smacking her tiny palms against yours, enjoying the sound that contact made. She took her seat beside you and leaned in to watch the interaction, wrapping her arm around the back of your chair as she scooted closer. 

“And who’s this?” she murmured, smiling at the baby as attention turned from your hands to her, though there was still a tight grasp on your pointer finger. 

“Shauna’s niece, Phoebe,” Lottie hummed, offering out her hand for the baby’s entertainment, which was greatly appreciated by Phoebe, who smacked at her palm in a child's attempt at a high five. 

“Well hello, Phoebe,” she laughed. 

-💚-

You didn’t talk much on the drive back to the house you were staying at. Not for any particular reason. You’d ended up staying at the party far longer than intended and were tired, so some comfortable silence was welcomed. You watched Lottie as she focused on the road ahead of her as she drive. The sun had started to set and streetlights turned on, offering a soft light that danced over your wife’s features. She glanced at you momentarily when she noticed you staring. She smiled without a word, reaching with her free hand for yours. She gave your hand a comfortable squeeze and kissed your knuckles, her eyes returning to the road. You hummed your thanks and leaned against the headrest, shutting your eyes. 

You didn’t talk to one another till you made it back into the air b&b. Buckwheat was very excited to have his people back with him and he barked eagerly wagging his tail as he hopped off of the coach upon hearing the door unlock. Lottie took him into the kitchen for a late dinner while you made your way into the bedroom to change into something more comfortable. You listened through the tiny house as you rummaged through your luggage. The kitchen light turned on with a soft click followed by kibble hitting the ceramic of Buckweed's bowl. You settled on changing into a pair of sweatpants and a tank top, not bothering to shut the bedroom door before stripping. 

Lottie walked in when you were halfway finished, wearing only your tank top and underwear with a pair of socks on before putting your pants on. She hummed her acknowledgment but moved to the bed to sit down and take her shoes off. You stalled, pausing before abandoning the pants altogether to approach her. You sat next to her on the bed but looked down at your knees. She finished with her shoes and scooted on the bed, patting the space beside her, awaiting you to join her. You did just that, crawling up to the pillow just as her arm draped around you like it had a hundred times before, comfortably settling on the curve of your hip.  

“You've been quiet,” she commented, running her fingers over your forehead, brushing loose hair from your eyes so she could get a good look at you. “Tired?” she questioned. You shook your head, nuzzling into her hand. 

“Thinking,” she hummed, eyes trailing over your face. 

“Care to share,” 

“You looked like you had a lot of fun with those kids today,” she smiled fondly and hummed again. 

“I did. They had a lot of spirit,” she adjusted her position in the bed, scooting closer to you. “But that’s not what you’re thinking about,” she knew you too well. It could get irritating sometimes. But in the long run, you appreciated it. Your eyes drifted and you bit the fat of your inner cheek, you're brow growing to crease with consideration. 

“Do you wish we had a kid?” Lottie seemed taken aback by the question, but she didn’t answer right away. 

“Where did that come from?” you bit your lip now.

“Well you looked so happy running around with those kids, and the other girls started asking if we planned on having any and saying they always thought you would and I just,” your words began to quicken as you said more. That is till Lottie brought her hand up to your cheek, running her thumb over the corner of your mouth to get your attention. 

“Darling, you’re overthinking again,” You sighed with a tiny laugh and nodded, pressing a chaste kiss to her thumb.

“I worried,” 

“Don’t”

“That’s far easier said than done,” you scoffed. She smiled softly and sighed. 

“Do you want a baby?” 

“I dunno. Yes? Maybe?”

“That doesn’t sound very confident of you,” she was messing with you now. You sat up, which you knew she wouldn’t enjoy only to maneuver so that you could pin her down on her back and straddle her waist with your hips. You pressed her shoulders down into the bed with either hand and you felt a tight squeeze of her hands on your hips. You knew she enjoyed this, as did you, but right now it was simply a means to keep her quiet and on topic. 

“Charlotte,” you started. You knew how she felt about you using her full first name. She kept her lips tightly shut as she stared up at you. “I need you to be completely honest with me and tell me exactly what you feel on impulse. Can you do that,” she nodded but didn’t let out a sound. 

“Should we have a baby?” 

“Yes,” she answered with zero hesitation, completely on impulse like you'd told her. Her features smiled and she began to laugh. “Yes! We should have a baby,” 

“Are you sure?” you grew excited at her enthusiasm. She continued to laugh and reached up, pulling you down on top of her fully. You practically crashed into her with a loud yelp, her arms wrapping around you tight as she continued with her giggles. 

“Oh, mon ange, I’m as sure as when I asked you to marry me,” she cooed, kissing your forehead and cheeks. If you looked close enough you could swear she was tearing up and you couldn’t blame her. You felt like you could burst into tears at any second too. “Let’s have a baby,”

#◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ kay's at it again♡ #mama!lottie yj #yellowjackets #yellowjackets fanfic #yellowjackets x reader #lottie matthews #lottie matthews x reader #lottie yellowjackets

[hellfirebabe666]

Be My Sweetheart

Eddie Munson x goth!Reader(using she/her pronouns in fic. no use of y/n) Word Count: 1k+ Warnings: absolute none to report just fluff if I'm honest

Hawkins High was abuzz with the upcoming Valentine's Sweethearts Dance that had just about every student trying to find their "sweetheart" and their way of inviting their dance partner was the Valentine's candy grams that the school was selling. A box of conversation hearts with a rose. Sure, it wasn't fancy, but this was high school after all.

The candy grams were set to go out just a few days before Valentine's Day with the dance itself taking place on that love filled holiday evening. As such you had all cliques in the cafeteria going on about the plans of who they were wanting to invite to the dance. Eddie Munson, the head of the school's resident D&D club was sitting at their respective table attempting to go over plans for their next meeting before the youngsters in the crew began to talk amongst themselves about their Sweethearts Dance plans.

"So you're buying one for Max, right," Mike asked nudging Lucas who was looking unsure. "Maybe. She's still mad at me about something. I can't even remember what now but she's been giving me the cold shoulder for a week," he sulked. "Maybe she's on her period," Dustin stated. Lucas just rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Look man, maybe the candy gram will make up for it," Mike suggested.

Eddie slammed his palms on the table shaking the treys of his other members to shake the boys attention back. "Come on, freshmen, we need to focus here. Enough with the corporate holiday crap," Eddie said as the boys drew their attention back to their leader. "Come on, Eddie. Valentine's Day can be fun. You just hate it because you're not with anyone," Dustin chuckled.

Eddie shook is head, "Oh dear Henderson you sweet sweet summer child. I don't hate it because I'm not with anyone, I hate it because it's just an excuse to spend money on gifts to proclaim your love but really it's just an excuse for marketing and upselling to shmucks who don't know any better." Dustin rolled his eyes a scoffed, "Whatever you say, Eddie. All I know is there's a particular goth girl who has been eyeing you for weeks now."

Eddie tilts his head looking at the curly headed kid and moves closer grabbing him by the scruff of his shirt to bring him closer to him as he spoke, "Say that again, Henderson?" Dustin swallowed nervously and spoke up, "Uh y-you know Robin's friend that goth chick that is like...super quiet? She uh, she likes you." Eddie's eyes widened at that admission. Robin's friend was something of an enigma in that she was hard to get a read on and she was just so shy. But Robin did speak very highly of her when she was brought up in conversation and the handful of times Eddie got to talk to her she seemed alright. Apparently she was really gifted in art and funny once she got comfortable around you.

"Henderson, where did you find this out and were you planning to tell me any sooner," Eddie asked Dustin loosening his grip on his shirt and finally letting him go as he settled back in his seat. Dustin smoothed out his shirt and glanced around hoping Robin and her friend weren't within ear shot. "Kinda heard her talking to Robin at Family Video a little while ago. She doesn't think you'd be interested. And honestly I wasn't sure it as my place to tell you at all." Eddie nodded slowly in understanding and looked over a few tables away where he saw Robin and the girl that was the topic of conversation.

She was cute. Dark hair down to her shoulders, a nose stud adorning her face and she always had graphic liner. Eddie had seen her in passing around school and he always thought looked cool but never had the opportunity to really speak to her more often considering she really kept to herself and her limited friend group. But once Dustin made him aware of your feelings his eyes lit up with an idea and he quickly bolted for the table just outside of the cafeteria where student council members were selling candy grams. Eddie knew what he was going to do. Sure he was buying into the bullshit, but he wanted to make her smile.

Days passed and it was lunch period time only today was the day student council members were delivering the candy grams to the respective students they were sent to. Eddie watched from the Hellfire table as they made their rounds and one made a stop at Robin and your table stopping before handing you a rose and box of conversation hearts. Robin's eyes widened, "Oh my god who's it from?" She asks frantically attempting to snatch the conversation hearts out of your hand to read the message but you were quick to avoid as you moved to turn the box over.

Be my sweetheart to the dance on Friday? -EM

And along with is was a heart with an arrow drawn through it. You looked at wide eyed and then looked up from your table and that's when you saw Eddie who was now approaching your table. He had a smirk on his face as he approached. Robin gasped and immediately whispered, "I'm going to go over there and I swear to god you better give me full details later!" She scolded you before rushing off tuning out your minor attempt to protest.

Eddie takes the seat next to you on the bench, "Hey." He said simply. "Hi Eddie," you said quietly looking at him. "So, how about it? Think you would want to go to the dance? Of course no pressure, we don't even have to go to the dance honestly. But I would like to take you out some time. What do you say?" He looks at you tilting his head and smiling feeling hopeful of your answer.

You couldn't help but giggle slightly and give him a big smile, "I would love to go the dance with you, but of course only if you're comfortable. No pressure," you repeat his words back and smile. He grabs your hands in his and looks at you and it gives you butterflies. "I'd love to take you to the dance, sweets. Gotta show off my hot date after all," he winks and squeezes my hands lightly.

"Well I look forward to it," you say and lean in to kiss his cheek which catches him off guard but the grin on his face after was absolutely cartoonish and you couldn't help but giggle again.

Yep, he was an absolute goner.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #valentine's day fic #stranger things fic #self insert fic #eddie munson stranger things

[waywardmillennial]

watchergate & where we go from here...

To start at the end, I purchased my annual Watcher TV subscription on April 20th because I wanted to support them when it felt like so many others were not. I'm cancelling another subscription to make this work with my budget, and I'm very happy with this!

Watcher has always made high quality, entertaining content that I love, and I'm happy to support them as they try to grow like they've always wanted to so they can bring on more creators and give us more diverse art.

So, moving forward, I'm going to be posting about Watcher TV when it comes out - spoiler parties with the sexy moots! - and I'll be blocking any and all haters I see. 💜💜💜

(read more bc ofc this got long)

To walk this back and give a little history/context, *ahem* [sotto Byron voice]

April 12, 2024: Watcher announced they had a surprise coming for us in a week's time. The news came in the form of a very spirited ad-read in the Mystery Files s2 finale. And afterwards there were a few blogs posting about it, but I commented to a friend that my dash had been devoid of Watcher posts (oh, how that sweet summer child would grow to long for a day such as that).

There were some corkboard theories, and I broke down the new logo design, but nothing big happened until the following Thursday.

April 18, 2024: I saw the leak for the announcement. It was on reddit and a sock tumblr blog was made sending the link out to people. I didn't post it or share it because it wasn't my news to share. I wanted to wait to see how they were going to explain it.

Maybe I should have said at the time (but it's fine if you don't believe me now I guess) but I was hoping Watcher TV would become like their enhanced Patreon replacement, where the new shows like "Puppet History Karaoke" and "Road Files" would be exclusive, and some other perks like early access. [note: if Apollo is laughing at him right now, I'd kindly request he stuff that red ball somewhere Helios doesn't shine]

I imagined some people would be mad at the streaming news but it didn't prepare me for how bad it would get...

April 19, 2024: Most of us know what happened. The announcement was not well received. Watcher's silence right after wasn't helping, but I don't think many people were willing to give them any grace for their pre-planned trip to the UK and instead demanded answers immediately.

Do I think maybe their announcement could have been timed better? Or maybe given a different tone? Perhaps. But either way what they were trying to communicate was not what people chose to hear, and the response from many viewers was, to choose a very formal phrase here, absolute bonker banana balls insane.

The main anti-streamer "arguments" I saw basically boiled down into these categories:

"high production tv quality content is what they want to make, but we don't want that - we only want them to sit in a blank room and talk to each other with blue and yellow text like the bfu days!!"

"Steven's the one behind all this bc he's rich and greedy and only eats gold"

"they already make enough money off their patreon why are they doing this?? they should have consulted [insert other yt-er here]"

"they've become the capitalist elite that we swore to destroy! so we have to tear them down from their thrones!!"

Even now, feeling better than I have in days, I don't have the energy to say why each of those takes completely misses the point of who they are as a company, as creators, and as human beings. But there are some eloquent posts in my #watchergate tag, or my other post, if you're interested.

April 22, 2024: We got the Watcher update - giving people access to all videos after a month on the new streamer - and that seemed to placate a lot of viewers and those on the fence. But it was also the day I learned about that horrible petition against Steven, and I'd been following all this drama for several days (foregoing some self-care) and so I had a little meltdown...

Even though the new setup is closer to what I'd hoped for like 10 days ago, I hate how we arrived at it. It's shown people that they can bully creators to get them to compromise on their company. In fact, I've seen accounts celebrating this.

Opinions like this have given me trust issues when it comes to the Watcher fandom at large now. As many of my beloved mutuals have said, I'm going to be wary of accounts that follow me and be applying that blocking feature liberally.

I can also only imagine how things like this must have broken some of the trust that the Watcher crew feels for us - fightingfuries really said it best. If they do start distancing themselves on socials and things, I wouldn't really blame them.

I don't have more to say, other than I'm going to support them as much as I can, for as long as they continue to make content. I'm going to send the team a care package. And I hope in time we'll earn back their trust.

Now I'll let Ryan Bergara play me out...

As for the question of why we decided to launch our own platform, when we started Watcher in 2020, we wanted to create shows that we were proud of, that we had ownership over, and that would provide you the caliber of content that we felt you deserved. However, we were finding it harder and harder to stay relevant to advertisers and the constantly changing YouTube landscape. We faced some incredibly challenging decisions. We didn't want to compromise our content to ensure they met advertising requirements. And we definitely did not want to lay people off that have brought Watcher to life behind the scenes. And we didn't want to bring Watcher to a close, which would have happened if we stayed solely on YouTube. - An Update, April 22, 2024

#watchergate #I needed to wrap up some feelings #but closing the tag now #onto posting about happier things! #and I have a little idea/project I want to work on next for any of you who are watcher tv members #vi rants #we now return to my normally scheduled queue

[isa-beenme]

Hi! I really enjoyed the story of Helion you wrote. I would ask you if you could write more of his stories when you have time and inspiration. Thank you!

Inspiration I had since you sent the request, time on the other hand I just had now 😀🔫

I honestly wished I could get money from this and never go to college again (I love what I study, don't get me wrong, but OH GODS how tiring it is)

Anyway, sweet Helion coming to rescue my mental health, this is actually from the same universe as this one but isn't necessarily a continuation

Also, I don't know why, but braids match Day Court's aesthetic SO MUCH, any kind of braid, honestly, and I love them for that

Serendipity

The day started hot, and you felt even hotter every day your pregnancy advanced. Now in a sense of feeling sexy, more like overheating. You spent some vacation days in Night Court during their lovely winter, the cold definitely helping your morning sickness, during spring break you enjoyed it very much in your own Court, all the fruits and veggies that only your home could provide you. And then summer came. And now you felt like a pudding melting under the sun.

Luckily another reason for you to love your Court appeared during this time: the clothes. Everything was so light and soft that honestly made you love your home even more. You woke up sweating with Helion's arms around you and quickly took a shower to free yourself from the droplets of sweat. You chose one of the many robes in light shiny colors to put it on, your belly, almost eight months in, looked pretty and roundy on the dresses, making you even happier.

Even if you weren't born part of the royalty you could swear you were glowing. You put your hair in two big braids and tied them up in your head, making a crown which made your face show up more. All of that time took your husband to only wake up and change his clothes. You made him sit between your legs in bed while you braid his hair and he played with the hem of your dress.

-You're ready for today? - Asked you once you finished, kissing the top of his head.

-What do we have today? - Honestly could be anything, your mind hasn't been the same since the pregnancy.

-Lucien is here - He announced, as if it would tell you everything you needed to know.

-Oh? For what? - Your dearest son has been coming in and out to Court for literally everything. You didn't feel like working? He covered you. You and Helion were on vacation? He brings all his friends and they work in command for a while. Another commemorative party? He was here to plan and make sure everything was perfect.

-Decide the baby's name? - The phrase came out in a question, and your eyes almost popped out of your face with realization.

-I forgot that - You whispered more to yourself than to him, but Helion heard somehow and laughed at you, running to hug you from behind and kiss your entire exposed neck.

-Don't worry, me and Lucien made sure to choose at least a hundred names each - His hands caressing your belly made you relax in his embrace, and you let him guide you to one of the solars in the palace where your oldest son was already expecting both of you for breakfast.

Your eyes lightened up in seconds just from the sight of the amazing table waiting for you to devour it completely. As the three of you sat around the table laden with sweets and treats, Lucien and Helion began to discuss the important matter at hand - the name of the baby you were carrying. Helion, being the father, was brimming with excitement and eager to pick the perfect name that would symbolize his love for his second child.

Helion's eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as he suggested names rooted in the traditions of the Day Court, tying it to their history and ancestry. Lucien, who was a blend of both Day Court and Autumn Court, chimed in with suggestions that would embrace the uniqueness of his sibling's heritage.

And well… you were happy with the food. As you haven't prepared anything to contribute with the discussion you sat happily with the amount of good candies and fruit flavored foods at your disposal. Your pregnancy was being gentle to you and food tastes were only highlighted to you (like fruit and sweets) and the only thing you had to leave behind was some scents in your bathroom. And the heat.

The conversation was lively, and the atmosphere was filled with love and anticipation. Helion, always the smart one, spoke about the significance of names in the world, and how they often carried stories and meanings that could shape a person's destiny. Lucien shared tales from his own travel experiences, highlighting how names held a special place in everyone's minds.

As they went through a multitude of names, each one sparking excitement in Helion and Lucien's eyes, but none of them felt like "the one" just yet. You chuckled to yourself, fitting more food inside of you and feeling the baby kick as if sharing in the excitement of choosing its own name.

As the morning went on, the discussions veered into playful nicknames and endearing terms they could use for the little one. Helion suggested "Sunlight" for the way the child would light up their lives, while Lucien countered with "Moonbeam" for the glow that would guide them through the darkness. Ridiculous and corny, to say the least.

At some point of the talk, Helion and Lucien began to consider combining their own names to create a unique one for the child. "Helien" was the first suggestion, but it didn't quite feel right. Then they tried "Lucion," which seemed a bit too complicated. Or horrendous, in your words.

-Okay, so, we'll finish this with a top five girls name, and then we can start with the boys name - Lucien said, finally closing the notebook that contained a ridiculous amount of names written in it and taking a sip of his drink.

-We won't discuss boys names - You finally gave your opinion, making both of them turn their heads to you, confused at your sudden interruption.

-Darling, you said you didn't want to know the gender until the baby is born, we need to discuss and decide both - Helion spoke, bringing his hand to your tummy for the thousandth time since the conversation started.

-But I'm telling you this is a girl. I'm sure - You weren't backing down on your decision, it was a girl and no more conversation needed.

-You can't be completely sure so we'll have boys names just in case - Lucien said, only awakening a anger you didn’t know you had.

-I'm the one creating this child, okay? We've already discussed this, it's a girl - You put an end to the conversation.

-We? Who is "we"? - Your husband asked, confused since you and him never discussed gender preferences. But you had yours.

-Me and the baby, I told her that I wanted a baby girl and she agreed, being a male isn't cool and I already told her that - You said with all the confidence you could master in that moment, both males fighting to not laugh at your antics.

-But isn't it better if we have a boy name just for precaution? - Lucien tried once again, the look you gave him was enough to make him sit back in his chair and shut up.

-No! We don't need precaution, I'm telling you it's a girl - Your stress level was getting higher every time they went against your decision. You weren't completely sure, obviously. But you were sure!

-Okay then, a girl it is - Helion said, giving up on the discussion and holding you in his arms, filling your face with thousands of kisses - But if it's a boy we're gonna name him Helion the Second.

-As you wish, it'll be a girl anyway - You mumbled for yourself, internally making a note to choose a gender neutral name in the end. Just for… you know, precaution :)

#high lord helion #spotify #acotar #helion x reader #helion acotar #helion spell cleaver

[tweetsongs]

once again i am asking people to read jwqs

i bet you thought you saw the last of me, motherfuckers *maniacal laughter increases*. that’s right, today in ‘rain’s unhinged webnovel recommendations,’ i’m here to tell you why you, yes YOU, should read jwqs.

what is jwqs?

jwqs, translated as clear and muddy loss of love, is a novel by the author Please Don’t Laugh/PDL, an author known for writing wlw webnovels such as female emperor and the eldest princess. jwqs is another one of her baihe, or wlw, novels, and is complete at 303 chapters and change in extras.

what is jwqs about?

qiyan agula, the prince of the grass plains, is the eldest daughter of the chief of a tribe living across the river from a rival kingdom. she has been raised as a boy from birth because ~politics~. when the rival kingdom massacres her people, she decides to take revenge by integrating herself as a male scholar in their country and working her way up the political ladder until she is in a position to burn it all to the ground. unfortunately for her, she does a little TOO well and is in the perfect position as an imperial scholar to be betrothed to the emperor’s favorite daughter, the youngest princess nangong jingnu.

the novel spans their decades-long relationship, including both their growing feelings towards each other, the political machinations of the court, civil instability within and around the kingdom, as well as qiyan’s road towards vengeance.

so this is a standard enemies to lovers arranged marriage story, so what?

oh my dear sweet summer child. you darling little fool lost to the winds of cliche storylines. this is no mere collection of hot tropes, this is a turducken of dramedy that will rip your still-beating heart out of your chest and cackle as it burns it in front of you. this webnovel will bury itself in your synapses until you sit up in bed at 4am Thinking about cycles of violence and the inevitable degradation of memory. while it IS a romance, it is also a dizzying political drama with a deft touch for platonic and familial relationships the likes of which i’ve rarely found in other texts.

Not only that, but to characterize jwqs as enemies to lovers is to simplify their relationship to an insulting degree- these two useless sapphics go through basically every relationship dynamic possible at some point, and most of the time at least one of them doesn’t hate the other! Their relationship is maybe best summarized by this twitter post, which makes me cackle every time.

so it’s more plot-focused than relationship-focused?

while jwqs IS largely concerned with broader issues within the kingdom and the opposing wei and grass plain factions, it would be remiss of me to say that it isn’t as concerned with its main relationship! the political drama of this novel is reflected through the evolving relationship between qiyan and jingnu, and their positions being what they are, their personal decisions and shifts in power dynamic ripple out to have significant consequences in the broader setting.

Additionally, beyond the main couple, evolving relationships and what people can come to mean to one another forms the backbone of jwqs’ themes, and each character has a complicated web of dynamics that refract into the sociopolitical situation. Rather than saying it’s more relationship or plot-focused, it’s more accurate to say that the plot and relationships of jwqs are inextricably entwined.

short answer: kind of!

okay this sounds like a bonafide tragedy, will the ending destroy my soul?

skip this one if you don’t even want a whiff of spoilers, but for those who are worried- jwqs does technically have a happy ending! it says so right in the summary!

now, to get to the more complicated answer - it depends on your tragedy threshold. this novel will spend three hundred chapters making you think ‘oh this CANNOT end well,’ and then sprinkle in moments of such sweetness that you’re forced to consider ‘but wouldn’t it be wonderful if it did?’ i truly spent the novel expecting a purely tragic ending, but instead got....kind of a bittersweet one! if you want the true happy ending you HAVE to read to the epilogue, the ending proper will only flash a few knives between its fingers before flinging them directly at your bared throat.

any caveats or trigger warnings?

yes, definitely! once again, i’m a fan of people going into a book eyes open, so here’s a list of things in the book that may turn some people off!

the book starts with a genocide, and spends much of the novel dealing with the horrific aftermath that the survivors deal with

it’s generally a pretty heavy book that doesn’t shy away from gore

there are depictions of sexual assault (not among the main characters), though the translation does warn for it!

there’s a relationship between an older and younger woman where the younger woman is in a state of dissociative mental trauma, and it is unclear whether or not she is capable of giving informed consent. this relationship is depicted as positive and grows into a consenting healthy relationship between two adults, but the beginning can be...pretty rough, since the book itself doesn’t seem to view this as a significant power imbalance/possible assault

there is an age gap between the main characters, and one of them is thirteen when they marry for political purposes. nothing happens between them until they’re in their twenties, but this premise might not be for some!

the first chapter of the translations has a more holistic list of trigger warnings, so i’d recommend reading through that first if you have any fears! this is just what stood out to me personally

anything else to sweeten the pot?

if you’re still not convinced, please have this miscellaneous list of reasons i love jwqs:

while the main characters have a tempestuous relationship, their dynamic stays incredibly sweet and loving throughout the novel. they are SO cute and kind to each other it makes me froth at the mouth

it has some of the most nuanced and subtle character writing i’ve ever seen, and depicts every character with a deftness that would’ve come out as overwrought in most other texts

the main character is a GREMLIN and EVIL, i’ve seen all you ‘where’s my evil girl mc’s’ on tumblr...this is your time

the mc is a compulsive liar to everyone including herself (hm that sounds familiar) and that makes the book incredibly funny to read when you read between the lines

the author’s notes are.....so good. this lady just loves ladies so much y’all

SO many supportive himbos

the main character can speak to horses. no there’s no magic in this world. no this isn’t a plot point. no there’s no explanation

just....watch this:

anyways please read this stupid little book about lesbians i can’t stop thinking about them and it’s ruining my life. i need someone to holler with and force me to finish this author’s other books. you can find the translated chapters here.

#posting on my bday as a treat to myself #jwqs #clear and muddy loss of love #rain's menagerie of unhinged webnovel recs

[kandisheek]

So here goes...

Bucky (to Natasha, Clint, etc) : "okay, What the hell was that? Why didn't nobody tell me it is THAT bad!!!"

The premise is this :

Post - Civil War (or Endgame but everyone is alive). After smoothing out the kinks of the Accord and their disagreement, Steve Tony is reliving their love in *ahem* their expletive (and loud) makeout sessions. All the rooms (private quarters or public) in the compound are being re-christened. Scarring all the other avengers, especially our duo beloved spies with their top of the notch "skills".

Bucky fresh out of cryo, blissfully unaware of this conditions first thought its just his paranoia and super hearing which fails him. Because he keeps hearing "things".

Till one fateful day, he REALLY need to bleach his eyes 👀

*evil laugh*

I like the way you think ;) Here we go!

---

Bucky still wasn't used to waking up in the Compound. After so many years on the run and then recovering in Wakanda, being back in the States was strange but wonderful. He hadn't really believed it at first, that Stark - Tony, he'd said to call him Tony - had managed to get them all pardoned, but it was getting easier every day to accept that yes, this was permanent, and he could stay.

Bucky showered, dressed himself and headed to the communal kitchen in silence, not really expecting anyone else to be up yet. Surprisingly, both Barton and Natasha were already there and having breakfast. Well, Natasha was having breakfast. Barton was hunched over with his head on the table and seemed to be having some sort of meltdown.

Yeah, Bucky wasn't touching that one with a ten foot pole.

“Good morning,” Natasha said, and Bucky nodded at her as Barton groaned, rubbing his temples.

“Yeah, right. Good fucking morning to all of us. And a happy new year too.”

Bucky cast a questioning look at Natasha who only gave him a serene smile.

“It's July,” he said, and Barton laughed humorlessly, raising his head with a thousand yard stare that Bucky had seen on many men who'd just returned from war.

“It's a new year. A new era. The reckoning has come.”

“What's he talking about?” Bucky asked Natasha, because he had a feeling he wasn't going to get coherent sentences out of Clint right now.

“He saw Steve and Tony last night,” she said. Bucky blinked.

“Yes?”

“Saw them.”

“So did I,” he said, confused, and Barton gave a laugh that verged on a sob.

“Oh, you sweet summer child. You have no idea.”

Bucky shook his head, grabbing his juice from the fridge and walking out. “Whatever. I'll be in the gym.”

“Don't say I didn't warn you,” Barton called after him, and Bucky shook his head. Weirdos, all of them.

He chugged his juice as he took the elevator down, headed to his locker, grabbed a towel and walked into the gym. Someone was clearly already training, rhythmic squeaks and grunts echoing out through the -

Bucky stopped dead in his tracks as he took in the scene. Neither Steve nor Tony seemed to have noticed him, which was fair. They were pretty occupied.

Bucky was begrudgingly impressed. Tony was a lot more flexible than he'd thought.

“That's unhygenic,” he said, and Steve yelped as he came to a grinding halt, looking over at Bucky with an expression of horror.

“What? Tony! You said you locked the door!”

Bucky didn't stay to hear Tony's indignant response. Now that he'd done his best friend duty and embarrassed Steve in front of his - apparently - new honey, Bucky turned tail and went right back into the elevator. He stepped out on the common room, and Natasha raised an eloquent eyebrow. Bucky stared right back at her.

“You could've told me,” he said, and Natasha shrugged.

“Where's the fun in that?”

Bucky sat down at the kitchen table, tossing his towel to the side. “Is it just the gym, or -”

“My working theory is that they're christening every room in the Compound,” she said, nodding at Bucky's stool. “I wouldn't sit in that if I were you.”

Bucky jumped up as Barton groaned into his folded arms. “Please tell me the shooting range's still safe.”

“Define safe,” Natasha said. Barton whimpered, and Bucky looked at the ceiling, silently wishing for strength.

He should've just stayed in Wakanda.

#marvel #stony #fanfic #fanfic asks #snippet #steve tony

[bellacullenvamp]

Red moon, a Twilight saga au!

•Masterlist•

•Playlist•

The Cullens have a new family member. Y/n is only a 2-year-old newborn... Carlisle stopped her life at age 15 and she still don't know why.

Genre: au! | Angst

Rated: G (Clean for all ages)

Chapter Three (Continuation).

School felt lonely without Renesmee. Jacob decided to protect his beloved from the Volturi and kept her close in La Push. Edward and Bella faked a story about sending Renes to Spain for an exchange program. She has a month to learn Spanish to cover this up. I challenged her and will test her myself after this anxiety-triggering moment.

At least I have her friends to have some small talk here and there. At lunch break, Cynthia made me aware of most names in school. The pretty boy from history class is called Percy Smith, and his rude girlfriend is Chloé Windsor. They been a couple since last year. And he is really on the Football team, she otherwise is on the school theater. She is a great actress. I know because Deborah is one of the students who are trying for the role of Juliette. This year's presentation before summer break is going to be Romeo and Juliette from Shakeaspere. As one really good friend I'm going to help her, and reassure her she is going to get the role.

When history class started, my heart began to race. Because I know I will be sitting near him.

"Hey!" he greets me with a warm smile. Today, Percy wore round glasses, and he never looked so sweet. "Hey!" I answered shyly. "I heard today you were helping Deborah at the theater class. I think it would be really cool if she gets the role of Juliette." Is he rooting against his own girlfriend? "What role is Chloé applying for?" I asked with curiosity dripping down my eyes. "Oh! She is not applying for a role. S he is directing the whole school show." He says with a proud smile. I only smiled and proceeded to focus on class. She is really proactive on school topics, isn't she?

"I didn't know you liked theater that much, "Y/n"?!"

At the Cullens, Renesmee and I would spend the whole evening on the phone. How could I explain I was more interested in showing Chloé other people could do good work.

"I think I am more interested in making friends my age, Renes...How's Jacob? And Spanish, are you learning the family legacy depends on that!" I joked.

"The Spanish is just fine! Thanks for asking "Y/N"!" She laughed.

"And Jake is wonderful as always. He loves it when I'm near, and I love being with him." Renes conclude. "That's so cute... Imprint love glue." I love mocking her about the imprint. Bella, on the other hand, thinks it is disgusting. But I don't make the wolf rules!

Alice came with Edward to my room. They signed so I could turn off the call, and I said goodbye. I left the phone by my bed and turned my body to them.

"The Volturi are coming tomorrow night," Alice stated with worry stamped on her elf-like features.

I hugged my legs, and Edward sat on my bed."They are here for a quick talk. If you resist, they're letting Aro know. But don't worry. We are preparing to fight them for you and your well-being." Edward said while holding my hand. He truly sees me as Renesmee's sister.

"Don't!" I said. "I don't want none of you to fight! I am going with the Volturi willingly. And no one can stop me from this decision."

All of the Cullens were by the restroom. Renesmee, of course, was out. Carlisle looked so worried. He worries about his children equally, even with all of my hate for being transformed into a vampire.

""Y/n" I want you to know that I disagree with your point of view on going to Volterra with the Volturi. It's risky. I see your novelty. I respect that. However, my children and my clan deserve respect. The Volturi can't come here and get my child." His statements made me silent. How could I respond to such love and concern in his words?

Esme held the exact same opnions. Rosalie was grieving, and Emmet was ready for a fight. Jasper decided to teach me some survival ability. Alice was in the kitchen trying to get focused on possible outcomes for the event.

The Cullens were out of peace. And although I never desired to be what I am now. I don't wish pain or death to them. "I am going Carlisle. That's the only way of peace being proclaimed." I said sincerely.

"Unfortunately. Carlisle, "Y/n" is right. If we don't want another fight coming. We must let her go. I'm sure when they see she does not have any power, they will let her come back home." Alice said while caressing his shoulder.

A gigantic cloud was on top of our heads. Happiness was far from me. I was once again asked to demonstrate resilience.

#twilight #alternative universe #au!twilight #bella swan #bella swan cullen #edward cullen #fanfic #fanfic authors #fanfication #female reader #x reader #reader insert #twilight fanfiction #jacob black #twilight saga #charlie swan #twilight meme #twilight x reader