#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."

[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.

[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.

[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)◜

[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

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

Lazing on a Sunday afternoon ☁️

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Finally, some more Bale!Bruce!! I'm sorry for starving you all </3

NSFW. proceed with caution. Make out sesh, thigh riding.

Bruce makes a request to do nothing for once. Who are you to refuse? But nothing turns into a passionate make out.

The order is here -> 🎂!

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

"Don't you look like a sunshine today." The voice of your husband reached your ears, and when you looked up through tired eyes to glare at him, he only grinned back at you from behind the rim of his coffee mug.

"Oh, shush." You grumbled sleepily, brushing past his sitting form and ruffling his hair on the way.

Bruce scoffed softly at your antics, knowing very well that you knew how much he hated having his hair messed up. Quickly, he reached out his arm and managed to land a gentle slap on your ass.

You squeaked and scrambled to get his arm away from you. Bruce chuckled mischievously, grinning as he lifted the mug to his lip to take another sip.

You, on the other hand, dragged yourself to the big counter to make your usual morning pick-me-up. There was silence between the both of you as you enjoyed your beverage with a soft hum.

"... you started it." His sly comment made a small gasp fell from your lips as you clutched your chest.

"You're on thin, thin ice, Mister." You warned, pointing your finger at him accusingly.

He only smiled back at you widely, a smile that both made you want to kiss his cheeks and hit him over the head with a frying pan. You know, the average marital experience.

Bruce put his cup down with a clink, right next to the latest edition of the Gotham Gazette, before sauntering over to you, wordlessly wrapping his arms around you and pressing a sweet kiss to your temple.

"Good morning, sweetheart." He said softly, resting his chin in your shoulder.

"That's better." You huffed, a smile breaking onto your cheeks.

Bruce hummed in response and let his eyes fall shut as he gently swayed the both of you from side to side. The tile was cold against your feet and the summer breeze that brushed in through the big, open doors facing the beautiful garden belonging to the Manor made goosebumps rise on your skin.

"What are your plans for today?" He asked before pressing a featherlight kiss to your shoulder.

You chuckled softly, twisting your body to face him with his arms still firmly around your waist.

"Well, it seems like you have plans for me today." You smirked at him, stroking your hand down his soft brown locks.

He let put an amused huff and straightened his back to his full height.

"Maybe I do." He grinned, spinning you around to face him.

"Jesus-"

You barely had enough time to put down your drink.

"A warning next time?" You raised your brow at him, your arms crossing over your chest.

"Sorry, honey." He chuckled, though you knew these little moments of mischief were what kept the little boy inside him alive.

You rolled your eyes playfully.

"So, your plans?"

"I figured we can just do.... nothing. I don't know when the last time was that I did nothing." He mused.

Your expression softened.

"Nothing means lying on the couch all day, slipping into the occasional nap until we wake up at an ungodly hour and eat way too much food?" You asked with a grin, tilting your head and watching as a smile spread over his lips.

"I didn't know my lovely girl was a mind reader." He joked, gently flicking you on the forehead.

You scrunched up your nose in response. Bruce chuckled.

"And here I thought you knew me, Mr. Wayne." You sighed with faux disappointment, before you gave him a soft smile.

"D'you want me to get the good pillows from upstairs?" You whispered playfully, like a child hiding something from their parents.

Or, in your case, a very loved british butler that has chastised you too many times already for bringing the Manor and his housekeeping system into disarray.

"You're perfect." He replied, gently taking your chin between his fingers and pecking you on the lips.

You giggled against his lips, reaching your hand up to pinch his cheek.

"If you keep going with those compliments it'll get to my head." You smiled.

"I have always been one to spoil the ones I love." He smirked, nuzzling into the palm of your hand.

A chuckle fell from your lips.

"Lucky me, that I get to call you mine." You hummed, stroking your thumb over his cheekbone.

Before he could respond, you cut him off.

"I'd be even luckier if you could get breakfast ready while I fetch those pillows...." you trailed off, averting your eyes.

Bruce pinched your side and slightly shook his head at you with a smile.

"I think Alfred prepared something."

You sighed in relief.

"Thank God. We don't need you burning the kitchen down." You chuckled, twisting out of his embrace and making your way upstairs.

"Now, excuse me-"

He started with a scoff, but a sharp look from you made him snap his jaw shut.

Bruce grumbled and turned to plate whatever delicious meal Alfred had made. You giggled all the way up the stairs.

"I love you!" You called out, earning a grumbly "Yeah, Yeah." With a huff.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

After a delightful breakfast you were splayed out on the luxurious couch in Bruce's arms. Your belly was comfortably full and the cushions felt like clouds as you watched his face, carefully tracing his handsome features with your eyes.

His chest was falling and rising with soft breaths, and his eyelashes gently brushed the top of his cheeks. He wasn't quite sleeping, but in a relaxed state that would rest him nonetheless.

You continued to admire him, running your finger from his temple over his cheekbone all the way to his jaw. A pleasant hum rumbled in his chest as his eyes opened, and he smiled at you softly.

You smiled back at him, a smile so sweet Bruce could feel his heart melt into the crevices of his ribcage.

There was no need for words when you guided his face to your own and pressed your lips to his in a gentle and passionate kiss. Like an automated response, his arms snaked around you in a tight grip, one of his hands cupping the back of your head.

It was a dance of teeth and tongue with a harmony of soft sighs and hums that bounced off of each other. Your arms wrapped around his neck, and with his help, you maneuvered yourself onto his lap.

Before you could sit down properly, he pushed one of your thighs to the side, making you slip and sit directly on one of his. You gasped into his mouth at the sudden pressure against your pussy.

The hand on the back of your head wove its fingers into your hair and tugged lightly, making a soft moan fall slip past your lips. Bruce only pushed you further into him, your noses bumping each other occasionally as he deepened the kiss.

He was practically devouring you, licking into your mouth and tugging at your puffy lips with his teeth. Y

ou managed to pull away for a breath, lust glistening in Bruce's eyes as he took in the state of you.

Panting above him, red lips, dilated pupils with disheveled hair. To him, you looked like heaven. He leaned in, brushing his lips against your ear.

"Ride, baby." He said lowly, and you had to try your hardest to bite back the mewl that was sitting in the back of your throat.

He planted one of his hands on your hip, gently starting the movement of you rubbing yourself all over his thigh. You didn't hesitate to grind your aching cunt down onto his leg, soft moans spilling from your lips.

He groaned when you tugged at his hair to capture his lips in a feverish kiss once again. You sped up your movements, squeezing your eyes shut at how deliciously your panties felt against your clit and folds.

Bruce was only pushing you further in the direction of your orgasm by pushing you down on his thigh with his hand, chuckling into the sloppy kiss when your breath hitched in your throat.

The sensation was overwhelmingly good, setting all your nerves on fire. He swallowed up all your moans and groans, the sighs, and whatever other divine noises you were making.

He pulled away briefly, his chest heaving same as yours, as he whispered in your ear.

"Just like that."

Your hips stuttered, and you mewled, tightly grasping onto him. You were rutting against his thigh like the neediest thing in the world, only reaching your peak of pure ecstasy when he kissed you once more.

Your movements became sloppy, and with a last cry into his awaiting mouth, you came undone.

Your breath was shaky, your thighs quivering as he gently helped you through your high.

With a heaving chest, your forehead glistening with a thin layer of swear fell to his shoulder. You felt leaden, all your limbs pulling you down.

"You did so good for me, my love." Bruce cooed, rubbing your back.

You collapsed onto his chest.

"Need a nap.." you slurred, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck.

He chuckled, brushing some stray strands of hair out of your face before pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

"Get some rest, sweetheart. I've got you."

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

I hope ya liked it! 😚

More Bale!Bruce -> 💫

《DC taglist》: @allysunny @arkhamknightscxnt @hellonheels-x @gaozorous-rex-blog

Lmk if you want to be added/removed!!

DC taglist: Bale!Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson.

[world0fmadness]

BEACH WALK

mick schumacher x reader

♡ general headcanons for a beach day with mick!

୨୧ second set of headcanons… how’re you guys liking these so far? i really like writing them <3

♡ view my formula 1 masterlist here

reading music recommendations: beach walk by whitewoods - lust for life by lana del rey - sleep forever by black honey

♡ you guys didn’t really plan on going at all! you just woke up and realised neither of you had any plans so why not take a short drive and enjoy the summer heat on the beach with soft sand between your toes and the smell of the ocean in the air?

୨୧ so you pack a little picnic basket with fruit, sandwiches and lots of water, two beach towels and off you go! leaving angie at home with food and water due to it being a bit too hot outside for a dog to sit on a beach for hours

♡ on the drive, he has the windows down and lets you play all your music in the car, tapping his fingers to the beat and sometimes quietly singing along to them when he knows the lyrics

୨୧ when you arrive at the beach, it’s much more quiet than expected and you guys set up in a cozy corner, away from prying eyes

♡ he applies your sunscreen for you, he’s the sweetest man ever buuut you think it might’ve just been an excuse to feel you up just a little

“ let me do it meine liebe, you can’t get your back ” ( you don’t think you’ll ever get over how good it feels hearing him call you that sugary sweet nickname in his native tongue )

୨୧ not that you mind of course, it’s not crazy sexual and his hands feel amazing massaging the cream into your shoulder blades and upper thighs

♡ at some point, he leaves to grab you both some ice cream from a nearby stall

୨୧ you offer to go with him but he doesn’t want you leaving all of your stuff and getting up from your comfy position

♡ while he’s gone, another man thought it would be wise to come up and flirt with you, ogling your body like a child looking through the window of a candy store

୨୧ you showed him no attention, obviously, only ever responding to mention mick

♡ eventually mick comes back, two ice creams in hand

୨୧ a strawberry ice cream with extra sprinkles for you and a simple chocolate ice cream for him

“ meine liebe! i got the ice creams, extra sprinkles for you- ” ( the confused sound he loud out when he looked up and saw the man still makes you laugh when you think back on it )

♡ safe to say he is DUMBFOUNDED when he’s standing above you and in front of this man attempting to woo you…

୨୧ you stare up at him through your sunglasses and can’t help but laugh at the sour look on his face

♡ the man, being stared down by mick, quickly bids you goodbye and speed walks away, much to your relief

୨୧ mick quietly sits on the towel next to you and, still sour about what he just witnessed, slowly hands you your ice cream

♡ noticing he had ice cream dripping down his hand, you laugh and lick it from his hand, earning that boyish smile and a kiss from mick :) the irritating man is quickly forgotten about

୨୧ you guys eventually decided to take a dip in the sea to cool off ( and wash off your sticky ice cream fingers ), not going too far in, the water only reaching a little above your hips

♡ he splashes you a little while you both laugh but, not wanting to get salty water in your eyes or in your mouth, he mainly just holds you close while talking about your plans for the week

୨୧ when he’s napping with a cap over his face, blocking the sun from his eyes, you walk the short distance to the shore to collect some seashells and rocks

♡ you find some that are gorgeously blue, just like mick’s eyes and can’t wait to show him

୨୧ when he wakes up, you throw your legs over his hips and gently sit over his stomach, immediately putting the shells and rocks up to his eyes, examining the colour comparison… they were a match! you were definitely keeping them

♡ he was very confused at first but when you told him what you were doing… oh boy, he somehow fell even harder for you, so grateful to know that he’s on your mind as much as you’re on his

୨୧ you guys spend the rest of the beautiful and warm day cuddled up on a shared towel… his hand gently stroking an infinite heart pattern on your back <3 occasionally feeding each other pieces of fruit from the picnic basket you brought and exchanging soft kisses

♡ when the day rolls into the late afternoon, the sun has set and the beach has gone silent… you and mick are packing up, ready to go home to angie and cuddle in bed

୨୧ he picks up all of the things and slightly bends his knees, gesturing for you to get on his back

“ i can see your eyes barely staying open meine liebe, get on my back, i’ll carry you to the car ” ( he’s right, the heat has sucked out your energy )

♡ so, he carries you to the car, puts your stuff in the boot and softly drops you down into the front seat, bending down and gently brushing some sand off your feet and legs before kissing your head, closing the door and walking around to the drivers side

୨୧ you fall asleep in the car on the way home, mick’s free hand rubbing comforting circles into your knee

♡ but when he pulls into the driveway, he doesn’t wake you, he just picks you up and carries you, bridal style, inside <3 making sure angie doesn’t get too excited and wake you up

୨୧ he carefully changes you out of your beachwear and into one of his shirts, places you in your shared bed ( angie hopping up and curling up by your feet not so soon after ) before getting changed himself and sliding into bed next to you

♡ instinctively, you curl into his side and he wraps an arm around you, legs tangling together under the blanket, nuzzling his nose into your hair and letting out some sleepy mumbles of love

“ what a day hm? sleep well meine liebe, i love you so much ”

୨୧ what a day it was…

ynln: beach day with my man 🐚 ☀️ 🍦

loveuyn: “ my man ” 🥹 they’re so cute, i can’t

mickynforever: cuteee! i love these two so much

mickschumacher ✔️: any day with you is a good day, meine liebe 💛

> ynln ✔️: love you, my micky ❤️

schumacherlove: god damn… they’re living the dream life

> mickynforever: yeah 🥹 just a chill beach day with nothing but love in the air

racermicky: the “ m ” necklace! so damn adorable, i want what they have

> mickynforever: he has her initial on a necklace too 🥹

[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  

[kybercrystals94]

A Tiny, Unfamiliar Voice

Read here on Ao3!

Summer of Bad Batch 2024 | Week 8 | Alternate Prompt: Lula

Rated: G | Words: 422 | Summary: A missing scene from 3x15...Wrecker is recovering after Tantiss and meets a new friend.

“Are you awake?” a tiny voice whispers. 

A tiny, young, unfamiliar voice. 

Wrecker groans. He doesn’t want to open his eyes. He doesn’t want to wake up. Not yet. He feels floaty and heavy all at once. And painless. He’s contentedly numb. He doesn’t remember the last time he felt no pain at all, not in his muscles or his head or his heart…he doesn’t want it to end. 

Something pokes his cheek. “Hello? Omega’s brother? Are you awake?” 

Turning his head, Wrecker cracks open his good eye. A blurry figure stares back at him. Red, tan skin. Blue eyes. Small. Very small. A child. 

The figure gasps. “You are awake! Dr. Karr said you’d wake up soon.” 

“Who’re you?” Wrecker slurs. His tongue feels thick and useless.

The child seems to understand anyway and moves closer. “I’m Eva. I’m helping Dr. Karr take care of you.” 

Wrecker’s mind catches up. Omega.

“Where’s Omega?” Wrecker asks slowly, forcing his tongue to cooperate. 

The child – Eva – folds her arms on the cot, practically nose to nose with him. “Mmm…” she says thoughtfully. “I think she’s with Crosshair. They took Batcher on a walk.”

“She’s safe?” His vision begins to focus, his numb reality sharpening. 

“Echo says everyone is safe,” Eva tells him. She leans back. “Do you wanna see my doll?” 

Wrecker isn’t even given a moment to answer before a little toy is put in front of his face. It looks like it is made out of grass of some kind, with long ears and a familiar face. “Lula?” he asks. 

“No, her name isn’t Lula,” Eva says, bouncing the doll back and forth. “I call her Flower.” 

“She’s nice,” Wrecker murmurs, grinning. 

Eva beams. “Thanks! Dr. Karr gave her to me. Hey, what’s your name again? Omega told me, but I forgot.” 

“Wrecker.” 

Eva wrinkles her nose. “Oh, yeah. That’s a funny name.” 

“Can you think of a better one?” Wrecker asks. 

Eva glances up at the ceiling, considering. “No. But that’s okay. I like Wrecker. Even if it is kinda funny.” 

“Thanks,” Wrecker says. Sleep is calling to him again, his eyelids practically slipping shut on their own. 

Eva leans in close again, her eyes peering directly into his. “Are you going back to sleep?” she whispers. 

“Maybe,” Wrecker yawns. 

“Oh.” Eva blinks at him. “Can I still sit with you, even when you’re asleep? I’ll be quiet.” 

“Sure,” Wrecker mumbles. 

Eva hums happily. Wrecker drifts back to blissful unconsciousness to the sweet sound of Eva singing Flower a lullaby. 

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Tag List: @followthepurrgil @amorfista @mooncommlink @arctrooper69 @nagyanna424 @proteatook @ezras-left-thumb @maeashryver @baddest-batchers @laughhardrunfastbekindsblog @omegafett99

[polin-erospsyche]

Part 2 to my incredibly long reaction to the incredibly short trailer

Part 1

In other news, less dramatic ones, Kanthony are home and they’re bringing with them some much needed order and sense back into the mayhem that is the Bridgerton home and everyone’s happy about it

Yes Anthony, things have been swift. They know. They definitely know the gentleman Colin prised himself on being is long gone, and that he’s compromised Pen and the worst thing is Colin’s not even half apologetic about it. He’s just so pleased with himself? Look at him and his emotional support liquor, he’s li ke « hehehe I did finger her in the back of a carriage, it was wild, I finally know what love is hehe »

El is also hanging out with her emotional support champagne. “Here’s to truly knowing each other, completely” that stings. Also Colin is catching up on the fact that Pen is not being truthful, he’s slowly waking up to all the blatantly obvious clues. Queue to said blatantly obvious clues (also the ring!!!):

The boy is so confused though when she says she’s been writing letters. He’s like “to whom??? I’m right here??? Tell me there’s not another suitor you’ve been secretly seeing” —> actually talking about this do you think that’s how Colin starts to think that he has competition and makes up a completely fictional rival??!

In other news Pen is just there hanging out with a family who finds emotional support in alcohol while she’s just hanging out in her psychological horror show. It’s ok baby, breathe and go tell him. I promise he’ll find it way more appealing than we all thought originally.

Also did I mention I need more horny and domestic Polin??? And they look so good in their new flat??? Like it’s literally their colour. Did Colin really go out there the very next day and was like “I need a blue, green, and yellow flat for the love of my life”?

Ok this is where I start to freak out. First he’s exchanged his emotional support liquor for emotional support tea. So the angst?! I’m gonna need my own emotional support liquor

Also this is so strange to me, he’s in their flat most likely, he’s sitting on the couch. It’s morning so he’s had time to process. Pen (if the shot right after is the same scene) barely dares to go and see him but she also has her hair down and looks to be at home. So are they already living together before they get married? If so the scandal. Or is this ep 8? But there seems to be pillows on that couch too? So did he sleep on the couch? Do we get to see the awkward and fragile state of their relationship, where they’re hurt but their love for each other is still so incredibly deep? If so I will die in the angst ditch that is Polin

And we’re back to lighter stuff, I think this is ep6 so he still had no idea. And just the way she giggles? Oh my heart cannot handle the sweetness.

WHAT AM I GOOD FOR??? So much Colin. You’re worth and count for so much my sweet summer child. Oh hero complex Colin, we love you oh so much. I was dying the whole way through but this is where I perished. THE ANGST. They really need to meet each other midway though. She needs to let him in and he needs to learn that she does not need saving, she needs love and companionship.

Thank you Netflix, I love them ❤️ Polin was getting a bit too real and dramatic for a second there.

[veronicaphoenix]

fairy dust series ✨ au — part one: the wicked fairy | wc: 3.5k

— read the prelude here

pairing: faeoliver! x ivy (ofc) x kitsune!noah summary: oliver comes back ten years later to take 18-year-old ivy away tags & trigger warnings: age gap, mentioned body image issues, mentioned parents' neglect, implied school bullying, mentions of kidnapping, implied virginity of the main female character, descriptions of nudity and one single mention of oliver having an erection (no sexual content beyond that and ivy feeling something at the sight of oliver naked), oh, and also, oliver's dick glows ✨ that's it, i think 🤭 my works 🌙

The Wicked Fairy ೃ༄*ੈ

The clock ticks midnight. 

            It’s her birthday. She’s eighteen.

            She waits to feel something, to feel different, but everything remains the same as she sits on her bed with a pale-blue summer dress on. There’s a nervous tic on her leg and she’s biting her bottom lip as she waits for the thing—the creature—she’s been expecting since she was eight. 

            Outside, only the occasional bark of a distant dork and the howling wind break the silence. 

            She’s tempted to get up and open the window. Maybe he cannot enter if it’s closed. Perhaps—

            But then, she hears the bells.

            There’s a shift in the air. 

            Her heartbeat speeds up.

            When she turns her head, she spots a dark figure looming in the shadowed corner of the room. 

            He made a promise to her ten years ago, and he’s kept it.

            He’s here, in her room. 

            When he steps out of the darkness into the moonlit area of the room, she swallows hard. He is as tall as she remembers, as impressive and breathtaking as the first—and only—time she ever saw him. His eyes shine like emeralds, his smile wicked and dangerous. 

            She is the one who has changed. She is no longer an eight-year-old child. Her legs and arms have lengthened, her features have matured, her hair has grown longer. Her curves are now perfectly delineated, her body filled out gracefully. 

            She is more beautiful than he ever imagined, though she doesn’t believe it herself. 

            “Miss me?” he asks, the first words spoken as their eyes finally meet. 

            Yes, she wants to say, but her throat feels dry, making speech difficult at first. 

            She has missed him. It seems silly considering she only saw him for a brief five minutes, but she would be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about him—about his green eyes and the fox at his back—every year, every single day, since that moment in the woods. 

            She’s spent the last decade trying to find a way to call him, hoping he would find her and take her away. Desperation often clawed at her, days when tears flowed freely and the pain of her surroundings threatened to overwhelm her. She wanted him so badly that she dreamed of him, of the promise he made, of the things he said he would show her and make her feel. 

            She longed to feel something good.

            When years passed and she realized there was nothing she could do to summon him, after countless afternoons escaping to the woods and hours spent with her bare feet walking to the same spot where she had met him, she began to visit the library, began reading, researching, gathering all the information she could about beings like him. 

            What she discovered was far different from the images her bedtimes stories had painted. 

            Fairies were charming, sure, and they had that twinkling in their eyes that sparkled in the moonlight. But underneath that twinkling, there was a predatory instinct. Ivy had seen it, but at eight, she hadn’t been old enough to recognize it. Fairies had captivating smiles, but their teeth were sharp, needle-like. Their voices were melodic and sweet, yet carried a sinister, haunting whisper. And worst of all, their favorite pastime was luring innocent children with enchanting promises, only to whisk them away to a realm where time moved differently, and escape was nearly impossible. 

            Fairies, as Ivy learned over the years, were more than mere mortals yet less than gods; creatures of boundless magic and capricious wills; their hearts were as wild as the forests they inhabited; and they were driven by dark desires.           

            Ivy should have been scared, but the real world had shown her so much cruelty that, whenever she pictured the fairy in her mind or found him in her dreams, she longed to be taken to his world. No fear, no doubts. She was willing to leave her own world behind and trust whatever promises he made. It was a risk she was willing to take—a risk she had been waiting for a decade to take. 

            Oliver doesn’t expect a reply. He extends his arm toward her, offering his hand. 

            If she hesitates, it’s only for a moment. She remembers the things her classmates told her the day before, and in a second, her hand is in Oliver’s. His is large and his fingers are slender, which make her hand seem even smaller in his grasp. 

Fifteen minutes later, they stand at the edge of the forest. 

            It hasn’t been a long walk from her parents’ house, but the night is cold and she’s only wearing a thin dress. She rubs her arms for warmth as they quietly walk through the trees. Suddenly, Oliver stops, and she nearly collides with his wide back.

            Straight ahead, she can only see darkness. The moonlight has forsaken them, casting its glow on other parts of the forest. Insects hum unseen, and creatures scurry through the underbrush. The forest looks different from all the other times she’s been here, perhaps because she never came at night. 

            Doubt creeps in as she glances over her shoulder at the distant lights of the town.           

            “There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Oliver says. 

            She turns to look at him. His eyes seem to shine even in the dark, and the grin is plastered on his face. 

            After all, he’s getting what he wanted, isn’t it? 

            He’s taking the girl with him, to his world. 

            Voices echo in her head: her mother’s disappointment, her father’s negligence, the mocking laughter of her classmates, the pitiful look of her teachers. She is ready to leave all that behind, but is she willing to leave everything else? 

            Her hesitation does not escape him. He senses her doubt, her emotions bubbling just beneath her skin. 

            His fingers trace a delicate line up her arm, from wrist to shoulder, drawing her focus back to him. 

            “Promise you’ll make everything better,” she whispers, her voice fragile. 

            Oliver huffs, almost amused.  

            “I can promise you that, but I know other ways to take that indecision away from you.”

            “Then, do it. Take it away.”

            Take me away. 

            His hands cradle her face, and before she can catch her breath, his lips claim hers. He kisses her hungrily, savoring her lips before teasing her sensitive skin. The fervor of the kiss makes her dizzy. She’s unaware of her own hands finding their way to the front of his black t-shirt, clutching it in fists. 

            The intensity of the kiss is unlike anything she had ever known. Oliver tastes like a promise, pouring his commitment into her with each press of his plump lips. His need for her is palpable. She understands then that whatever he felt for her that day in the woods has always been there; it has grown, deepened, become something undeniable, something he can’t live without. He’s not lying. The primal possessiveness in his eyes when he looks at her is genuine. He wants her. And he’s willing to do anything, give her anything, to keep her with him. Forever. 

            “Still doubtful?” Amusement laces his voice as he pulls away, his hands still holding her face. His tongue licks at his lower lip, and she is mesmerized by the way it catches the remnants of her own saliva. 

            Her chest rises and falls with heavy breaths, her eyes hypnotized by the way the tip of his tongue teases her. Whatever he’s done to her, it’s working. 

            She doesn’t want her old world anymore. 

            She wants new, different. She wants light and love, glitter and colors. 

            Maybe she’s bewitched, intoxicated, hallucinating. 

            She doesn’t care. 

            It feels too good. 

            She wants Oliver, the wicked fairy. 

            She takes a step forward, closing the distance between her and the fairy again. She rises onto her tiptoes and hangs herself from Oliver’s neck, pressing her chest to him as she arches into him. 

            “Lead the way. Now.”

            A wicked smile spreads across his face, fangs gleaming down at her.   

Crossing the darkness feels like a voyage through the deepest parts of a forgotten dream. Ivy clings to Oliver’s hand, her heart thrumming in her chest as her eyes try uselessly to adjust to the darkness. Shadows dance and twist, forming ethereal shapes that seem to guide their path. The darkness is different from the one she’s known; this darkness wraps around her like a velvety cloak, full of secrets and hidden wonders.

            Ivy steps out of the darkness, one step behind Oliver. 

            She feels warm.

            The world that opens up in front of her is bathed in a golden glow; everything shines with an ethereal light. As her head tilts up, glitter seems to fall from the sky like delicate rain, and iridescent butterflies fly about, their wings shimmering in the air. The scent of blooming flowers and fresh earth fills her lungs, a perfume so intoxicating she feels her very soul awaken. 

            Oliver watches her, a knowing smile playing on his lips as he sees the wonder and awe in her eyes. All his suspicions are instantly cleared—this is where she belongs, here, with him. 

            With a gentle hand, he guides her along a winding path, here butterflies and other creatures she doesn’t recognize yet alight on her arms as if drawn to her innate magic. The bushes rustle with unseen creatures, their presence a silent welcome, while rays of sunlight filter through the towering trees. These ancient giants seem to bow their heads towards her, as though acknowledging her as their queen. 

            In less than ten minutes, Ivy feels a powerful current stirring within her. It’s as if the very essence of the forest is merging with her spirit, filling her with a sense of belonging and peace. She feels like she’s at home. 

            Oliver leads Ivy to an open space where a hidden oasis reveals itself in all its splendor. Before them lies a small, pristine lake, its waters so clear and vibrant they seem to capture the very essence of the sky. On their side of the lake, an area of golden sand forms a secret beach, inviting and warm. At the back, a majestic waterfall cascades down from a small mountain, hinting at a vast, magical kingdom beyond. The greenery around them is lush, saturated with life; birds sing melodious tunes from the branches above and every leaf and flower seems to shimmer with its own inner light. 

            Ivy slips off her sandals, abandoning them carelessly to the side. She steps into the golden sand, feeling its warmth envelop her feet, the grains shifting and moving through her toes. She can’t stop smiling, her heart swelling with joy. Slowly, she begins to turn, taking in the breathtaking beauty around her, absorbing every detail. 

            Lost in the moment, she doesn’t notice Oliver approaching from behind.

            His hands find her hips, halting her spin. His touch sends shivers down her spine, and his warmth, hot breath tickles her ear as he whispers, “I’ve waited an eternity for this. Welcome home, Ivy.” 

            She closes her eyes, the words wrapping around her like a warm blanket. In that instant, she knows she won’t regret what she’s done, leaving everything behind for an eternal promise. 

            Ivy begins to explore the oasis, her fingers brushing against the vibrant plants and flowers that seem to bloom just for her. She inhales deeply, the scents of jasmine and honeysuckle filling her senses. She marvels at the towering trees, their leaves shimmering in the light, and she strokes the soft fur of strange, beautiful rabbits that hop around her, welcoming her with gentle nudges.

            Lost in the wonder of her surroundings, Ivy turns and finds Oliver in the water, his clothes nowhere in sight. His hair clings to his forehead, droplets of water cascading down his tattooed skin, which seems to glow with an otherworldly light. He looks like a god, every inch of him exuding an ethereal allure.

            “Care to join me?” he asks cheekily from the distance, his voice carrying a playful lilt.

            Still too shy, Ivy shakes her head, opting instead to sit on the warm sand and watch him. Oliver swims with effortless grace, tilting his head back and using his hands to slick his hair away from his face. The sight of him stirs something deep within her, a warmth that begins in the pit of her stomach and spreads to a more intimate place.

            After a while, Oliver decides he’s had enough. He steps out of the water, and to Ivy’s shock, he is completely naked. 

            His entire body glows softly, but it is his erection that draws her gaze, radiating a mesmerizing light. She’s never seen a man naked before, much less a fairy god.

            She feels her breath catch, the scene before her both stunning and surreal. Oliver walks towards her with a serene confidence, the glowing of his cock mirrored in the brightness of his perfect smile.

            He’s acutely aware of what he’s doing to her, but as he approaches her spot on the sand, he makes no attempt to intimidate her further. He flops down beside her, letting his back sink into the warm grains, sending droplets of water her way. The cool spray feels refreshing, and she wonders if she should have joined him in the lake. Perhaps the situation would have been too enticing, too tempting for her to resist swimming to him, wrapping herself around him, and asking him to make her his, for eternity.

            With a deep breath, she lays down next to him. His eyes are closed, and he seems to be inhaling the peace and the sweet scent of nature. He is the most beautiful man she’s ever seen, and she takes in every detail of his profile, every mark on his face, every curve and sharp angle, every freckle that adorns his skin.

            “See something you like?” he suddenly asks, popping an eye open and tilting his head slightly towards her. There’s sand stuck in his hair, but he doesn’t care.

            “Yes,” she says bravely. “You.”

            Oliver smiles, his teeth gleaming. She just stares at him.

            “Why did you not take me away when I was eight?” she asks suddenly.

            Oliver frowns for a moment, then shifts to lay on his stomach, resting on his forearms. His back, butt, and legs are covered in a layer of sand.

            “Because then you would have stayed a child forever. I prefer you like this: a woman.” As he says this, his hand goes to Ivy’s shoulder, and he slowly, tentatively, slides down a strap of her blue dress. 

            She holds her breath. 

            He stops, looks up at her, and waits for a sign.

            She gives it to him.

            He undresses her, indicating for her to lift her arms, and he helps her out of her dress, taking it off, leaving her in her panties. He doesn’t touch her just yet, letting her get accustomed to her quasi-absolute nakedness. Her breasts are perky and pink, soft and inviting. A blush has crept up her cheeks, her hair falling in separate strands along her back and front. She is beautiful. Oliver wants to do nothing but adore her, with all his wickedness and the love he’s got for her. It doesn’t matter that he’s done bad things before. He will find redemption in her.

            Without an indication from him, she hooks her fingers in the hem of her panties and slides them off her legs. And then, she’s naked, lying next to him, uncomfortable in her own body, just the same sensation that has plagued her since her teenage years. The cruel human world had frequently reminded her of her imperfections—curves deemed too large, shapes that were ugly, and every other aspect of her body that seemed out of place according to others’ perceptions.

            She can’t take the intensity of Oliver’s green orbs that seem to tell her that she’s actually perfect, so she closes her eyes and waits. 

            She doesn’t have to wait for long.

            First, it’s a daisy, placed on her navel, then another bunch of flowers follow, all kinds of flowers that Oliver places all over her stomach and chest, covering her in a floral blanket. He also places some in her hair, smiling all the while, as if this is the most fun he’s had in a long time.

            When she feels calmer, more settled and comfortable, knowing that Oliver won’t touch her further than to adore her and worship her with flowers, she opens her eyes, falling in love with the green of his eyes a little bit more.

            “You’re so pretty,” she breathes out as he continues placing flowers; on her thighs this time.

            “Am I?” he asks, but he already knows. He’s fully aware of his beauty and charm.

            She wants to slap him, but she knows he would stop her before her hand reached his skin. He laughs at her reaction, a quiet but deep laugh. He touches her lips with his thumb.

            “As I said: poisonous.”

            She doesn’t know, but he’s beyond infatuated with her. He wants her. He loves her. He wants to explore her, once, twice, thrice, over and over again. He wants to show her everything he has to offer, make her feel more than humans could ever give her, more than she could ever experience.

            But there will be time for that. 

            For now, he just lays his head on the sand, his left cheek sinking into it, and closes his eyes, content to be by her side.

            “You never told me your name,” she mentions, shifting onto her side and propping herself up on an elbow to reach his back. The flowers on her stomach cascade gently onto the sand. She yearns to touch him, and so she does, beginning by brushing away the patches of sand still clinging to his skin.

            He mumbles something, as if gradually drifting into slumber. 

            “Oliver,” he murmurs eventually.

            “Oliver,” she repeats, and then she chuckles softly.

            Oliver stirs beneath her, attempting to catch her gaze over his shoulder. “What’s funny?”

            “The Old French form of Oliver is Olivier, derived from the Germanic name Alfher, meaning elf army, a warrior.” She pauses, a tender smile gracing her lips. “It seems fitting.”

            He raises his eyebrows for a moment, contemplating her words. “Well, I can’t deny I’ve battled the urge to kidnap you for the last decade and held myself back. I suppose that does make me a warrior.”

            He is a warrior.

            “My warrior,” she murmurs, savoring the sweetness of the words on her lips. He smiles against the sand, content that she acknowledges the truth: he belongs to her.

            As she continues to delicately brush the sand from his back, she notices something that catches her breath. She must have made a sound because Oliver lifts his head again and looks at her.

            “Ivy?”

            “There’s...” she starts to say, her eyes fixed on a spot on his back, then scanning over his entire back. “The fox... is gone.”

            “Oh,” he says after a moment, relaxing his shoulders.

            Why is he not concerned?

            “It’s not a fox,” he corrects, reclining again. “It’s a Kitsune; a naughty one, I must say.”

            Her words stutter out, “Where— Where has he gone?”

            Oliver glances around, then shrugs nonchalantly. “He can’t be far. He was quite eager about today. He’s probably waiting for you to play with him.”

            “Play?”

            “Yes, Noah is quite the playful one,” he elaborates with a knowing smile, the corners of his lips curving like crescent moons in the twilight while Ivy blinks, apprehensive yet yearning to meet him—to meet Noah. “He delights in playing tricks, so be cautious.”

            The more Oliver talks, the more Ivy’s confusion swirls, like mist in a forest clearing. He had promised there wouldn’t be anything to be afraid of, that he would keep her safe.

            “Why should I be ca—?”

            “Well,” he cuts her off, “he’s adept at the art of seduction, and I suspect he’s quite intent on seducing you.”

            Oh, she thinks. A soft exhale eases her tense shoulders. She should be worried about falling into another magical creature’s trap. But the memory of the fox’s gaze—the kitsune’s, the warmth it had radiated in the woods when she first met Oliver, soothes her uncertainty; the reassurance the animal sent her way a decade ago seemed to tell her that everything would be okay, that she would be showered in affection and love when the time came. 

            The time had come. The time was now.

            An urgent need to find Noah surges through her, stirring butterflies that flutter both in her stomach and around her. Perhaps they’re there to guide her.

            Before rising to search, she hesitates, casting an uneasy glance down at Oliver. 

            “But— Will you allow him—? Allow me—?” 

            “Sure,” he replies before her words fully form. “Only if you desire it, of course,” his touch on her knee is reassuring. “But first, warm up to him, get to know each other.”

            Already pulling on her dress and panties, Ivy asks hurriedly, “How are we supposed to do that? I don’t even know where he is.”

            Oliver’s response comes with a cryptic smile, his eyes full of mischief.

            “That’s precisely how you begin: by seeking,” he explains. “Find him, Ivy. Find Noah. He’s been waiting for you, too.”

→ next part ✨ | my works 🌙

Taglist is open. Drop a comment or message me if you want to be tagged in part two and three :)

Taglist: @somebodyels3 | @respectfulrebel | @poppy-in-the-woods | @blessedwithabadomen | @dsireland86 | @bluestdai | @poisongirl616 |

[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"

[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

[ailendolin]

Live reaction to TRoP 2x04

I am actually so glad Amazon is releasing the episodes weekly now because I love the anticipation beforehand and all the speculation about what happens next. So let's see what episode 4 has in store

Elrond in Mithlond! We're off to a great start here. I've missed my sweet summer child in episode 3

Galadriel, please, you have no right to be even the slightest bit bitchy right now after the Sauron shit you pulled

thank Eru Elrond is having none of it. I love how unapologetically he stands his ground and refuses to engage with her childish passive-aggressiveness

epic camera shots are epic and very LotR-reminiscent

also can I just say that I love how they're including the map to help the viewer get a grasp on where the characters are?

new elves! And they have names! I have a feeling they won't survive this journey but still, hello new elves!

man I just want to give Elrond a hug. He's trying so hard and given everything that's happened it's completely understandable why he won't trust Galadriel and Nenya, and I hate that this sets him up for failure

oooooh is it Tom Bombadil time? I can't believe this show made me feel excited about a character that I couldn't have cared less about when I read the books. I blame Bear McCreary and his beautiful music

lol Tom is like one of those burrowing animals that accidentally throws dirt at someone behind it while digging

Old Man Willow desert equivalent - does Tom Bombadil just naturally attract malevolent trees?

oh I'm so glad Nori and Poppy are okay and landed together wherever they are

those two need to meet Elrond. Given their tendencies to jump off cliffs, I think they'd get along splendidly

omg Nobody! I love you! You are adorable! And your name is Merimac! Gods, I hope they'll keep you around

lol not Nori third-wheeling and being jealous

desert halflings my beloveds! Look at them! They're so different from what we've known and yet them living in holes and the children sitting around listening to stories is so beautifully familiar. I love this so much

oh they're Stoors! And they don't like the Dark Wizard. Got it. I don't like the Dark Wizard either but damn I love watching Ciarán Hinds play him

"You should not be waking." :) I still can't believe how much I love Tom Bombadil already

GOLDBERRY!

that flame trick was neat

omg his little hedgehog teapot! I want one!

oh no this is where we say goodbye to my new elf friends, don't we? The Barrow-downs. I always loved this part in FotR

"Fear not. Dead men are no threat." Famous last words

shit those are the horses from the messenger Gil-galad sent, right?

the Barrow-wights are giving me PotC-vibes and I'm here for it

please let Camnir survive this. Please let Camnir survive this

thank you, Elrond. I knew I could count on you

also yay for him being a bookworm and knowing how to fight the Barrow-wights

and we're back in Pelargir. Have I mentioned that I don't really care about Theo (yet)? I love that Arondir and Isildur are teaming up, though

Estrid, I don't like you. Please go away. Or get trampled by an Ent

or found out by Arondir. That works as well

have I mentioned that I miss Bronwyn?

Arondir, you're a kinder man (elf) than me. I would have let Estrid faceplant right into the dirt

lol Isildur is such an idiot and I love him for it. The way he got sucked into the mud and pulled Arondir along with him was so funny

hello mud worm! I love how many different creatures we're getting in this show

the cave art! Omg it's beautiful and perfect!

"We don't have a home." This is such a sad sentence and reminds me of the dwarves (and especially Bofur) in the Hobbit movies

Galadriel, I'm sorry, but Elrond just told you he is trying his best to save Celebrimbor (and certainly feels overwhelmed by and terrified of such a task) and you're saying all elves carry such burden? Are you serious?

fuck me, not Elrond getting captured in her vision. Is he going to be forced to watch Celebrimbor get tortured / killed?

I will not be okay if / when that happens. Just saying

also I absolutely adore Camnir and you can bet I am already thinking about writing a fic about him and Elrond

not surprised by Estrid's stunt

shoot her, Arondir. Do us all a favour and shoot her

or maybe she actually is stupid enough to get herself trampled by Ents. One can hope

getting smacked is good too

Arondir, please, was it necessary to stop the nice Entwife?

damn those shots of the Ents look pretty

also did anyone ever think we'd get to see an Ent and Entwife together? Because I didn't and my heart is full.

oh that scene between Arondir and Winterbloom was beautiful

the orcs look so good in this series. I'm so glad we went back to prosthetics

I love how calm Elrond is. He is always careful not to rush into anything, always waits and sees and it keeps saving all their asses

NO! Fuck, are you kidding me? Not Camnir. Please, not him

okay, I have forgiven you for everything you've ever done wrong, Galadriel

and I have so many Elrond and Camnir ideas right now, holy shit, that scene was everything

that flaming arrow move was badass

oh this is how she will get captured

yessss hello Adar! I've missed you! Time for Sauron's exes to team up and wreak havoc

his greeting, I can't. Perfect. I love him so much

what a great episode!

[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.

[alyssawolf2410]

Chapter 2 - New Friends

We stop in front of. You guessed it Pigsy's Noodles! "This is my job! And I personally know the boss. So I bet I can get you a job here!" He spoke with so much enthusiasm and a bright smile. Oh, this poor sweet summer child. You really should not trust strangers this much. 

Fousces. You Need To Keep Your "Act" Up.

Right! "Oh please, dear! This is way too much. We literally just met! I don't even know your name." Mk looks like  he is staring through me. He probably just realized he dragged a stranger to his job. He opens his mouth like he is going to say something but is interrupted. "MK!" We both turn to the doorway of the restaurant. And you guessed it Pigsy. Pigsy looks pretty much the same. He has his white chef outfit. It is a pink pig with fuzzy arms and a chin.

He looks at Mk and practically charges at him. "Where have you been?!" Pigsy screams in Mk's face. But Mk  looks at him blankly. "You  were supposed to go get my delayed shipment! So I could continue making noodles for my customers! But for you taking so  long  I had to close early!" Pigsy wacks him with his spoon.  "Oh. I knew I was forgetting something." He rubs his head.

"You just need to walk down the street!! How were you gone for 5 hours!?" "Well, you see. I was going to the shipment. But you  won't believe what I saw! There was a bright beam! And no one else seems to see it!" Mk makes  the motions of the beam. Wait beam? I don't remember any beam. "So  pulling  a page from Monkey King! I decided to investigate it. I ran towards  but  it was starting to fade away. So  with  my quick thinking, I jumped on a bus."

Mk  makes  motions like he is parkouring over things. Then  throwing  himself in a "bus." "And I was so close to figuring out what it was! But by the time I got there, the beam was gone." MK looks defeated. "So I stayed on the bus to take me home. Where I helped my new friend." He shows me off  and I give a small wave. Pigsy seems to have finally noticed me. "Oh yeah. Before I  forget  she needs a  job,   so I  was wondering if you could hire her."  Pigsy stares at the both of us blankly for a moment. "WHAT?!"

~~~~

And now I'm just sitting here with a cup of tea, which I don't even like. So it's just sitting with me here. I look down at it and see my reflection for the first time. Hm. This is the new me now. I don't know how to feel about this. Um! Stsyem distract me!

Would You Like To Keep Your Old Name? Or Do You Want A New Name?

My old name? I mean it wasn't unique. It wasn't a bad name. But it was my name. I don't know. A new name would be fun. Also, I could get to pick my name. But-

Starting Random Name Gentoar...

Hey, Rude! I was still thinking! A hand waves in front of my face and I jerk away from it. I turn to the hand's wielder. And see Tang! He is wearing a long white shirt with a red vest over it. Dark blue pants and brown shoes. with of course his thick black glass. He sits next to me and places a brown tote bag beside him. 

"Are you okay? You have been staring at the tea for a long time. You didn't even hear me when I called you." I could feel my cheeks heat up. "Sorry about that. I get lost in my thoughts a lot." He pulls out a notebook and pen. He gives me a small hm. "Do you know where the cook is?" "Oh yeah, he's in the back with MK. So he might be a while." I point to the back door where they are talking now.

Now that I think about it. They have been reticent. I turn back to Tang. And he is eating a bowl of noodles. Where did he get that? "So what brings you here?" I decided to ask. "I know the cook personally. And I enjoy his cooking. So come here often. How do you know Mk?" He gives me a side glance. "I just met Mk at a bus stop. I have been struggling a bit so MK paid for me."

"As soon as he learned that. He dragged me here. And is trying to get me a job here, thus why I am here." I look back down at my tea. That is starting to get cold now. Tang smiles fondly, looking back to his noodles. "That's just MK for you. He is a really good person. I think you will get the job. Pigsy is not one to leave someone when they need him." I turn to him. "So do I. But back to you. What do you do for a living?" Tang places the noodles next to his notebook and takes a sip of his tea. Which once again where did he get that?! "I teach literature at a nearby college. As well as trying to write a book. But besides that, I teach a bit of everything but mainly focus on mythology, history, tragedy, fairy tale, folklore, and drama." He takes another sip. 

"I'm currently teaching "The Journey to the West." He picks up the bowl and starts to eat from it again. Bingo. "What do you think about it so far? I lean on my hand as I look at him. "Well, I won't lie I have been intrigued. It doesn't help there is so little on the Monkey King. Like his last where about. He just vanished." I could practically see the shine in his glass. " Ah. Sorry. The Monkey King is but a myth. So he might not be even real." Those same glasses cracked when he remembered I was still there.

"Your tone tells me you might believe he is real. You don't need to go all natural on me. If it helps I think he does exist." I snicker. "As my students call it I went teacher mode on you. But yes I do believe he exists and I have reason to believe he is on Flower Fruit Mountain. Especially since it is the hardest thing to find! And if you even do find it there are so many challenges before you even get to the actual mountain!" He slammed down his bowl on the counter and stood up. I jerk upwards from me not expecting it. Putting my hands up like I'm about to be arrested.

I sweat dropped. "You seem really passionate about it. Why don't you write your book on that?" I suggested. Tang seemed to snap out of his trance. He gave a nervous laugh before sitting down. "Acullaty now that you say that. it's not a bad idea." He looked deep down. He then started to write a bunch of stuff down at record speed. His glasses had a full shine to them. Then he slammed down his pen. "I got it!" He grabs my hands with a bright smile and stars in his eyes. "Thank you. I have been struggling for months. Trying to figure out what to write. But you gave me the best idea." 

"O-oh it's nothing. You would have probably figured it out yourself before I even suggested it." I gave a small nervous laugh. I knew Tang was obsessed with Monkey King. But lord I didn't know it was this deep. "Still! You probably speed up months of my thinking. By the way, my name is Tang." He sits back down and goes back to the noodles. " Nice to meet you, Tang! My name is-"

Kylie.

"Kylie!"

You Have Meant Tang.

Trust: 0/10

Love: 0/10

Friendship: 1/10

As he goes to take another bite of the noodles. A spoon comes flying at Tang and hits him square in the face. Making him fall off his chair and drop the bowl. I grab onto the noddle before it falls on the ground. Kind of impressed I was able to catch that. "Stop eating my noodles, you freeloader!" Pigsy yells at Tang pointing another spoon at him. What is it with them randomly getting items?!

"And you!" Pigsy points his spoon at me. "Y-Yes?" "Do you know how to cook noodles?!" "K-kind of! I know how to make decent broth but never homemade noodles before!" The noodles I have even made are instant noodles and only sometimes do I add stuff to it. "Have you worked as the cashier before?!" Pigsy continues to scream at me. "Yes, I'm very familiar with working as a cashier! As well as taking orders!" Is this an interview!? "Good, I expected you here tomorrow at 6 am to start your shift!"

You Have Met Pigsy.

Trust: 0/10

Love: 0/10

Friendship 0/10

"Yes sir!" I salute him. MK throws his arms around my neck like a hug. "See told you I would get you the job." He gave me a cheeky smile. "You indeed did. And I'm internally grateful. This gets rid of one of my problems." I patted his arms. "Well, I'm about to solve another! You can move in with me with you get back on your feet!" He lets go of me and shows me some keys which I could only assume were his home keys. I shake my head and hands no. "Oh! That's too much! I kind of have a place to stay at. Plus we again just met. We are practically still strangers!"

"Well, my name is Mk! I work at Pigsy Noodles. And you are my new roommate!" He says with the brightest smile as he offers me the keys despite how amazing this is for me. I can't help but see how unreal this situation is. No one in real life would be this nice unless they were trying to kill me. But then again this isn't real life anymore and I might as well make the most of it! "Name is Kylie and I guess I'm your new roommate." I take the keys.

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