#Fires in streets or backyards

[forthepleasureofmylife]

Backyard N.Y.C.

Photo: Dieter Krehbiel

[these-summer-nights-in-december]

Christopher Citro | This Is Today | 2025-05-09

[milfgwen]

tfw lightning storm so bad the fire department gets called out to your street

[mywritersmind]

BIKINI TIES - LN4

summary : A fun day is made chaotic by your brothers best friend and his constant need to flirt with you.

listen up : back to me roots! (lando x fewtrell!reader) dirty jokes, lando norris slut allegations.

words : 1392

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The sun is hot against my back, a sign of my impending tan and a sure way to make me smile.

I breathe in as Dominic Fike starts blasting from the speaker, my eyes shut and hiding the many people around me, although their presence is definitely made known by the splashes in the pool, constant conversation, and drink orders being yelled across the backyard.

I’m laying a bit away from the rowdy group, in the perfect position under the sun, with my bikini top untied and my stomach against the lounge chair.

I shift my head against my arms, careful to not sit up so much that I flash someone. As I lay my head back down, my hair falls around my shoulders in a blanket of warmth and waves, but my comfort is quickly messed with.

I open my eyes at the contact, a hand pushing my hair away from my face. I’m annoyed at the move yet when the man in front of me unblurs from my vision, I'm not so angry.

I eye his smile and light blue trunks, “Is my turn to be bothered already? Last I checked, you hadn't even spoken to Chris.” I close my eyes again, still enjoying the sun even though he’s blocking half of it.

“Keeping tabs on me, Fewtrell?” He taps my leg, forcing me to move them and sitting down next to me.

“I’m observant.” I mumble, giving in to his game.

“You’re obsessed.” He teases and I try not to think about how he’s definitely checking out my ass in my tiny bikini.

“You’re delusional.” I hum in response.

He clicks his tongue, “Max is starting the grill soon, what do you want?”

I turn my head a bit, squinting at him with a smile on my face, “Are you taking my order?”

“Shut up and answer before I let you fend for yourself.”

I sigh, “Burger, please.”

I wish I could say that I jumped or slapped him when his hand met my skin, but I've become far too accustomed to his touch in these past years. The only reaction my body has is chills.

His fingers trail over my back and go straight for my bikini bottom, shifting the side to get a closer look at something I know he’s never seen.

“What the fuck, you have a tattoo?” I feel his weight shift on the chair, looking over the side of my body now.

“Yes.” I sigh as he looks closer, “Is that an issue?”

“Well… it’s not a ‘4’ so yeah.” He sits back up, flirting with me easier than ever. “Still cool, though.”

To his dismay, it’s not his racing number, but the number of the house Max and I grew up on. A street that was just next to Lando’s.

He’s not touching me anymore, but he is leaning over my back so his hand is bracing himself on the other side of the chair. I open my eyes again, looking across the pool to the obvious pair of eyes watching the two of us.

“Are you trying to get Max to kill me, or…?” I ask Lando, Max way too far to hear me.

“He’s not watching you, he’s watching me.” He mumbles, groaning and sitting up so he's farther away from me. “Cause i’m a whore and all.”

I laugh at this, “Right. I’m gonna go help Max. I think he might set this place on fire-” I move my hands back but Lando makes it clear that I don’t need to move.

His hand presses against my back, “I got it.” Is all he says before sliding his hands upward and before I know it, the strings of my top tug against my skin.

His hands move against my skin as if it’s nothing. I am used to his touch, his hands are familiar and the same ones that I have to often tell myself to not think about. But this, somehow, feels different. He crosses the strings, tying up my back without me even asking.

When I sit up, he’s looking at me already. I’m absolutely sure I look like a mess but why would I care what I look like when his perfect green eyes are only focused on me?

His straight face breaks when his eyes wander down my chest. Mine do the same, a smile appearing when I see the hair tie stuck to my body.

As if it’s the most obvious thing ever, he quickly peels it off my skin and slides it onto his wrist. I watch as his tanned arm braces himself against the chair again, his bicep tightening as he leans closer. Fuck his arms are attractive.

He blinks, running his tongue over his teeth. “You look hot.” He says nonchalantly.

I raise a brow, confused at his tone.

“You should probably cool off.” The second he stops talking, he’s grabbing me off the chair and pulling me into his arms.

I fight him instinctively, getting deja vu to our younger years. “Lando!” I scream as he carries me as if I'm a princess being saved, straight to the pool, “Lando, No!”

His grip on my legs tightens, the smile never leaving his face, “Come on, Fewtrell, I'd rather you scream my name later in the day.” I slap his arm after he whispers in my ear, too dangerous for anyone else to hear.

“Fuck you!” I scream just before I’m submerged in water. The pool is a cool relief that I definitely won’t admit to Lando. I kick away from him, finding air again as people around us laugh.

He pops back up right in front of me, grinning wildly and shaking his wet curls in my face. “I’m gonna get you back.” I say. I'm not sure if I'm out of breath from the sudden swim or the proximity that Lando is to me.

“Oh yeah?” He does that hot guy thing that makes me wonder if he knows how attractive he is, nodding at me with a lazy smirk. I shake my head, moving my arms to keep me above water, “You still look hot.”

I roll my eyes, dunking my head and spinning around so when I'm back in the fresh air, I'm not facing him, “I hate you.”

He tugs at my waist under the water, turning me back around and making me even closer to him. “Say it to my face.”

I bite my lip, his curls dropping water onto his face. I follow one droplet, watching it move down the face I know so well. Over his tiny nose scar that’s gotten more prominent with the sun, over the freckle on his cheek and disappearing at his lips.

He lowers his voice even though everyone around us is busy with their own things, “Cat got your tongue?”

I snap out of whatever trance I was just put in, “I hope you drown.”

“Aw, then who would stress Max out with you?” His eyes move past me and I jolt away from him, looking behind just to see everyone but Max.

I splash him before he sinks back under, a hand around my ankle in seconds.

I fight him in the water before both of us are out of breath, “He’s gonna kill us one day.” I say, wiping the water off my face.

“So why don’t you let me kiss you and give him something real to be mad about?” It comes out far too easily, his eyes locked on mine and his expression completely serious.

We joke like this a lot. With Max too, sometimes. But Max doesn’t find some of it as funny, especially when Lando is touching and/or flirting with me.

When I asked him why he gets so bothered, he responded with, “He’s my best friend. You’re my little sister. It’s gross.” I thought he was going to stop there, but then he gave me a bit more and the current reason why I'm scared to do anything with the Formula one driver. “I know him. I know his habits- especially with women. Why would I let you just be another girl to him?”

I swallow and do the only thing I confidently know how to do in moments like these. I push Lando under the water and swim away.

[alchemistc]

Gonna be pissed as hell if Tim throws out a plotline to replace it with a three episode arc about LA on fire (what will Brad do when his house burns down?), which makes me a hypocrite and a half because here's some ripped-from-the-headlines bullshit.

Tommy's duffle lands on the bottom stair with a thump.

He glances around the space like he's seeing it for the first time - or maybe like he's just taking in the gravity of the situation. There's a quirk of his lip, an ironic shake of his head, and Buck can't quite stop himself from imagining the thought running through his mind. Despite his intentions, he'd landed here anyway.

They're both bone tired. Exhaustion seeping into their marrow, the kind of tired Buck hasn't felt like this since Texas, maybe. He wants a shower and about 48 hours of sleep.

"I'll take the couch," Tommy says, voice raspy, eyes refusing to draw towards Buck.

And the thing is.

The thing is Tommy definitely had other places to go. Other friends who would have put him up as long as he needed, people he trusted, people who cared about him. But it was Buck he'd found as things wound down, the both of them covered in soot and ash, Tommy dropping to sit beside him on the curb as they waited for relief teams to finish up at the command tent.

They'd stared at the burnt out husk of Tommy's home just long enough for the tiredness to really settle in.

"You're not taking the couch," Buck says, and flips the light switch in the downstairs bathroom. Tommy's shower gel is still under the sink, his fancy curl conditioner down to the last few dollops because he'd spent enough nights here to go through most of a bottle. They've already showered at their respective stations, but Buck knows from experience how much Tommy hates the Harbor showers ("You'd think a fire station would have better water pressure, but I'm telling you, Evan, it's about as strong as an eighty-year-old's dribbling piss.") and Buck knows he still feels like he's caked in days of grime.

"Evan," Tommy starts, and Buck can't read into that, refuses despite the way it knocks around in his chest.

"You need the rest just as much as I do," Buck argues, and Tommy's shoulders just... slump. He sighs. Nods his head. Shifts on his feet and accidentally catches Buck's eye.

The contact holds just long enough for Buck to see the tears swimming in Tommy's eyes, and he can't imagine -

It strikes Buck for maybe the first time how dumb he'd been to ask Tommy to move in here. Tommy had a life, a home, a place he'd spent a decade making his own.

He'd made a joke once about a firefighter living so close to the hills, the first time he'd had Buck over, that ironic lilt to his voice while he talked about replacing all the east facing windows the first time he experienced the Santa Ana's after moving in, and Buck had spent a good ten minutes watching the light fade from his backyard, dusk casting the hydrangea bushes in a rose-gold hue.

"If I hug you are you gonna make a break for it?" Buck asks, regretting the spiteful tone when Tommy curls further in on himself, but he ducks his head even as he's shaking it, and Buck doesn't fight the urge any longer, three long strides before Tommy's curling fists around Buck's waist and pressing his nose into the skin of Buck's neck.

("It's just stuff," he'd said, knee knocking against Buck's where they huddled together on the curb across the street, Tommy uncharacteristically fidgety as they both stared straight ahead.

"Come stay with me," Buck had responded, and felt Tommy tense so quickly he'd sort of expected him to bolt to his feet and leave.

Instead, the stillness eased out of Tommy's body all at once on an exhale, and he'd nodded out of the corner of Buck's eye. "Okay."

He hadn't quite been able to stop himself from reaching out to squeeze Tommy's knee. "Okay.")

Tommy's never been one to take more than his fair share. He breaks the hug before Buck can really get into it, sniffs once like Buck didn't notice the wetness against his neck, shifts backwards and sideways. He stops halfway through the doorframe when he catches sight of the canvas bag on the counter.

Buck just hopes Maddie actually bought the specific list Buck had sent her three hours ago. Tommy's particular about his stuff, and he'd pressed the point with his sister despite the eyebrow raise he could see in every text back she sent him. He can see Tommy doing the math - only so many people with a key to the loft, only so many people who weren't there in Tommy's neighborhood for a stretch of exhausting hours that hadn't amounted to much other than saving that purple house down on the end of the street that Tommy was always bemoaning for having a better garden than him.

"Tell Maddie thank you," Tommy says, still with that rasp to his voice that under any other circumstance would have Buck vibrating in place. When he digs through it, Buck catalogues his findings - that weird organic toothpaste Tommy swore by, the cheap electric toothbrush he refused to switch out for the better one Buck had a subscription to; a pack of briefs and socks in Tommy's preferred brand.

It's not the first time Buck has wished there wasn't a canyon between them, but he strikes the urge to quip, to smile, to reach out and try to comfort him.

His phone buzzes in his pocket and he digs it free, glances at the readout and immediately feels the ire rise in his throat again. It's from Eddie, a private response to the group message he'd sent out letting everyone know Tommy had a place to stay.

Is that a good idea?

And Buck gets the point. Understands that Eddie has his best interests in mind, but he's not here, hasn't been here, hadn't been there when they rolled down the street to find three houses already fighting the blaze.

Buck can't hold in the annoyed snort, and when he glances up it's to find Tommy's eyes on him.

"I'm gonna go shower," Buck tells him, and manages three whole steps before Tommy's hand curls around his wrist.

He doesn't seem to have the words to ask, but Buck reaches back to strip his shirt over his head anyway and shuffles them both towards the shower.

It's the least sexy thing they've ever done together, if he's being honest. Buck hasn't felt this tired in years, hasn't felt this grim in years, barely has the energy to do more than scrub at Tommy's back while he rinses his hair. Perfunctory, is a term for it, except for the way Tommy leans into the press of his fingers when he suds up Tommy's hair, except for the way Buck drops his forehead to Tommy's chest while Tommy aims the showerhead at Buck's back.

This is the kind of stupid shit Buck had meant, all those months ago, even if he'd done an extremely shitty job of expressing it. This is the kind of shit he'd pictured while Josh waxed poetic about some television show and wondered if Buck saw a future with Tommy.

By the time they're rinsed off and toweled dry Buck can barely stand, but as Tommy's footfalls echo just behind his up the stairs Buck has just enough sense left to roll open the drawer he'd never cleared out, toss Tommy a pair of clean briefs and one of his threadbare LAFD shirts.

Tommy stares at the drawer long enough for Buck to pull on his own clothes. He blinks himself out of it only when Buck stubs his toe wrestling the body pillow Tommy always pretended he wasn't going to end up curled around out from under the bed.

The drawer closes with an echoing 'snick'. Tommy tosses his own towel in the hamper and makes quick work of dressing.

His hair is gonna be a nightmare in the morning. They're both gonna be absolute messes. Buck's pretty sure the only food in this place is raw flour and approximately seventy-five chocolate croissants - he's pretty sure he used up the last of his eggs trying to perfect his meringue technique.

There's a stiff moment after they slide into bed where they both just lay on their backs and stare at the ceiling, oozing into Buck's mattress. Tommy shifts first, and Buck's sure it'll be away - no matter how often they fell asleep tangled together Tommy always ended up hugging the edge of the bed, and it's not like -

"Is this okay?" Tommy asks, even as he's shifting a leg over Buck, hands finding purchase in the cotton of Buck's sleep shirt.

It's like he's been dosed, for the way Tommy's body sliding into place next to his steals all the energy he has left in him. He blinks once, twice, manages to get a hand in Tommy's damp curls in response. The rest of it can wait for tomorrow.

"Evan?" He's sinking into it too, Buck can tell - the weight of his arm and leg pressing Buck further into the mattress, the drawl of Buck's name drifting instead of sharp.

Buck hums. Presses lips into whatever skin he can find without opening his eyes - a temple, or a cheekbone maybe. "Go to sleep, Tommy," he manages, but if Tommy responds he doesn't hear it.

[seat-safety-switch]

One of the greatest joys in life is using your shitty old car to shut down a legitimately nice car. For any law enforcement folks reading this, I would never endorse street racing. Also, I think I heard someone shoplifting in the other room, and you should go check it out. The best kind of street racing is the street racing the other person doesn't know they're having.

Now, I've had nice cars in the past before. Once, I had a Mercury Cougar XR7 with most of its original paint. Come to think of it, I might still have it somewhere in the backyard. Hard to keep them all apart these days. Anyway, when you drive a nice car, you get this sort of ego boost every time you see a lesser vehicle. How dare you peasants not realize how inferior your base Corollae are? Only a connoisseur can truly appreciate the divine features of this fine automobile.

That kind of mentality is simply not healthy. All of us, each and every one of us, are just a few generations away from being shit-throwing apes. The fact that we managed to make a machine that gets us down the highway quickly is a total miracle, and it's not any more of one because we put a pretty logo on it and charged $20,000 extra to put precision-engineered butt manipulators in the seats. It is this problem that the very fast beater is meant to solve.

When you have a shitbox and that shitbox goes faster than a nice car, whether because of superior driving (not me) or a significant amount of horsepower (not me) or a lack of understanding of your imminent mortality (possibly me) it is a great feeling to shut down those rich folks tooling around in their "good cars." It knocks them down a peg, which keeps them from doing things like going into work and causing another housing crisis. In fact, I'm going to go out and gap some Porsches with an old rusty fire extinguisher filled with nitrous oxide right now. You should come too, so I can get a ride home after the cops bust me for shooting my engine block across four lanes of the highway.

[aurorawritestoescape]

THE OTHER BROTHER

Johnny Miller (Joel’s twin) x f!reader | Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: you’re in love with your neighbor Joel but he doesn’t notice you. After another failure to get his attention, someone unexpected offers their help - Joel’s twin brother, Johnny.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, angst, twin au, age gap (Joel and Johnny are in their 30s, reader is in her early 20s), pining, unrequited love, heartbreak, hurt/comfort/hurt/comfort?, virginity loss, insecure reader, soft Johnny, praise kink, size kink, f!oral, breast play, unprotected piv (wrap it up), belly bulge, aftercare, kinda hopeful ending. Pics are only for the mood, reader has no physical description but she wears a dress.

Word count: 7,6 k

A/n: Kate, are Joel and Tommy not enough for you?! Nope, I need one more Miller bro!! I was inspired by Aly’s/ @iamasaddie post and Mina’s / @evolnoomym comment💕💕 Idk whose edit it is, lmk if you do, so I could send my kudos. That edit did something to me. Hope y’all will like the story!💖 Kisses to @milla-frenchy for betaing💋 Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

MASTERLIST

You walked into Joel’s backyard with hope, carrying you on its wings, and excitement, twisting your stomach. A cute summer dress, open sandals, accessories— everything had been planned out and thought over lots of times beforehand. It was your chance to get him to notice you, to finally see you as a woman and not only as his neighbors’ daughter.

You had attended Joel’s barbecues every summer since a few years back when your family had moved on that street. Almost instantly you had fallen in love with your middle aged neighbor Joel. He was handsome, funny, polite, very charming and on top of everything a single parent. Joel seemed to be a wonderful father. You weren’t friends with Sarah, but it wasn’t hard to notice the way they connected. They had that heartwarming father-daughter bond that you and your dad for some reason had never had.

You couldn’t think of anyone else but him. You had thought that leaving for college might have helped but it hadn’t. No one could compare to the perfect Joel Miller. Unfortunately you were just a girl for him. He was always polite and warm but his gaze would always slide over you. You had been crying and yearning for his love for years but it had felt as unreachable as the stars over your head. Unattainable dream.

Thinking that you had nothing to lose, you decided to try your luck once more. You had come back home for a summer break, and after a long time away from your parents you felt mature and confident enough to make Joel notice you. So you stepped into his backyard with a set goal in your mind—to win Joel Miller’s heart.

You found your parents among the other guests and joined them, before searching the backyard for a pair of beautiful brown eyes. Of course Joel was handling the grill. Butterflies in your stomach swirled in excitement, your heartbeat increased but the initial joy of seeing the man of your dreams evaporated instantly, when you noticed that he wasn't alone. His strong arm was wrapped around a waist of a beautiful woman. She was laughing and talking to him, and when Joel leaned down to gently kiss her lips, your heart shattered into a million pieces.

"What's wrong, honey?"

You tried to control your emotions when you heard your mom's voice but it was next to impossible. Upcoming tears squeezed your throat, your lower lip began trembling.

You shook your head and hastily turned away from the sight that set your butterflies on fire - the love of your life was kissing another woman.

“I’m ok,” you lied. “just something in my eye.”

You tried to cover your tears with your hand, and your mom stepped up closer to you, about to offer help but suddenly you heard a deep voice to your right.

“Hey. Don’t think we’ve met.”

Wetness was coating your eyes, distorting your sight, and you barely glanced at the man, who came up to your parents and you, and mumbled,

“Excuse me... I need…need to use the bathroom.”

You rushed away, your parents calling after you but you didn’t stop. You were full on crying.

You ran through Joel’s kitchen and hall and rushed to your house.

You were walking up the stairs of the porch when you heard someone shout behind you,

“Hey, wait!”

You turned around, wiping the tears away with the back of your hand, and what you saw made your jaw drop. Or rather who you saw.

It was Joel. At least you thought so at first. The man looked exactly like your crush but he was dressed differently— Joel whom you had seen five minutes ago was wearing a dark tee while his doppelganger had a plaid green shirt on with a white tee underneath. But the most striking difference was his hair- he had a short buzz cut contrary to Joel’s dark curls. His hair was lighter than his twin’s, just like his eyes.

The stranger came up to you slowly, his expression full of concern and sympathy. You were so flabbergasted that you forgot to hide your reddened eyes and wet face and were staring at the man with your mouth agape.

“I’m Johnny. Joel’s brother. I wanted to make sure ya fine.”

You continued staring at the man, completely lost for words and he talked again,

“I’m his twin brother,” he added, noticing your surprise. “I guess he doesn’t talk much about me, huh?” The stranger smiled as you shook your head.

“Wanna sit down?”

He motioned to the porch bench and you should have probably said ‘no’ and gone to your room to cry your eyes out but a few last minutes were so surreal and emotional that you couldn’t think straight anymore. You nodded. The man followed you there, took a seat at a respectable distance from you, his body turned to you slightly. You were staring at your hands, not sure what to talk about with your new acquaintance.

For a few moments you two were sitting in silence until you remembered the way Joel had been looking at the woman and a pathetic sob crawled up your throat.

“I don’t like her either,” Johnny said and your teary eyes snapped up at him.

“Hm?”

“His new girl. Too bossy. I’m not a fan.”

“I -I don’t… ’don’t like her’. I don’t know her at all,” you croaked.

“Yeah, but you like him, right?”

Your stomach dropped and you faked an awkward laugh, shaking your head.

“No, no, I don’t.”

“Quit lyin’, girl. I’m not dumb. I saw you waltz in there with a happy smile and then when you saw them...Damn, poor thing. Unless you’re in love with her but—,” he chuckled and you hastily shook your head again, waving your hands in protest.

“I don’t love him, oh my god!”

“Ok, ok. Keep denyin’ it. You can watch him get married and have a bunch of kids then.”

When you heard his words your heart froze and, not being able to hide your feelings, you broke into tears, covering your face with your hands.

“Fuck.” The man immediately scooted closer to you and placed his arm around your shoulders.

“’m sorry, sweetheart. I’ve been harsh. Maybe I’m a fool and you just had a bad day, that’s all.”

“No, no, you’re right. I do! I do love him,” you confessed in between sobs.

For a few moments you were crying and Johnny was rubbing your arm with his big hand until he spoke softly,

“You seem like a nice girl. Beautiful, sweet. Have you tried makin‘ him interested?”

You raised your teary eyes at the man and for some weird reason you admitted to him that you had fallen in love with Joel a long time ago but he had never noticed you.

“My brother sounds like an idiot. Look at you. You’re hot, baby.”

You smiled and dropped your eyes.

“And your smile is fuckin’ gorgeous.”

You felt warmth spread in your belly when the man put his finger under your chin and tilted your head up to face him.

You looked at him attentively, taking in every feature of his familiar yet novice face, and noticed that he was as handsome as Joel. His skin was more tan and his eyes were lighter, a mixture of hazel and green, and your heart fluttered at his beauty.

“Do you wanna get ‘im?”

Now it was your turn to laugh.

“Get him?”

“Yeah. First you need to make him notice you.”

“But he has a girlfriend,” you mumbled with defeat ringing in your words.

“So? She ain’t his wife. He can dump her whenever.”

You were quiet.

“Listen. I can get you into this house. Into his life. He’ll see you often and I bet he’ll notice the fuck out of such a hottie.”

You felt your cheeks heat up when you glanced at him and asked,

“How would you do that?”

The man winked at you with a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.

“Let’s pretend that you and I are going out.”

You giggled, thinking it was a joke, but Johnny kept talking and you realized that he was absolutely serious.

“I’m stayin’ with him right now. We’ll spend a lot of time in his house. He’ll notice you and then fall in love with you in no time.”

“I’m not sure he will. I’m too shy,” you admitted.

“He loves shy girls. And even if you ain’t very talkative. Damn, look at you. You’re hot. And I’ll wingman the fuck out of you.”

“Really?”

“Of course. Brothers share everything. Like, “Bro, yesterday she rocked my world. Her mouth’s heaven. And then she rode me! Damn, she’s the best I ever had. See?”

You were blinking at him with an open mouth and burning up cheeks. When you heard his filthy words you couldn’t help but gush into your panties. Johnny didn’t seem to hold back.

“He’ll be hard over you immediately.”

You furrowed your brows and asked,

“But isn’t there a bro code or something? that you can’t date your brothers’ ex girlfriends?”

“Nah, we don’t follow that.” Johnny waved away your concerns with his big hand. “We dated the same girls all the time in school. What’s good for me’s good for him, right?”

You didn’t know what to think. Johnny's idea was crazy but all of his arguments made a lot of sense. And you were desperate.

“Ok. We can try I guess,” you said, nervously fumbling with the hem of your dress.

“Fuck yeah we can!”

He gave you a charming smile and you smiled back, feeling a little better.

“But my parents can’t know, ok? I’ll tell them I’m with friends.”

“No problem. It’s fake anyway so no reason to make ‘em worry. But—,” he paused, his expression turning serious, — If we want it to work, we need to spend time together beforehand. It’ll help you to get comfortable around me, yeah? to make it believable.”

You nodded, trying to understand what he meant by ‘spend time’.

“Wanna do it now? Let’s hang out in your room. For some time.”

“Aren’t they gonna look for you?” You asked, glancing back at Joel’s house.

“I’m a big boy, baby, I don’t need to tell anyone where I’m goin’.” Johnny replied with a wink.

“Oh yeah, right.”

You got up and headed to the door. Your accomplice followed you, and when you were walking upstairs, you turned to him.

“Johnny, if my parents come early, they can’t see you ok?”

“No problem, I’ll hide in a closet,” he chuckled and gave you another wink.

When you entered your bedroom, Johnny looked around and took his flannel off. He was standing in the middle of your room, white tee stretched over his broad chest, his muscles bulging out of the short sleeves. He rolled them up, exposing more of his arms, and you swallowed loudly. He was bigger than Joel and in your small room he looked so huge and tall, that you felt your core burn.

“Cosy,” Johnny said, walking to your bed and plopped on it unceremoniously. He leaned his back against the headboard, his booted feet hanging off the edge. You were staring at him awkwardly, not knowing if you should sit next to him. Getting on the bed with practically a stranger was not something you could do easily.

So you sat down on a chair by your desk.

"Nah-uh. Get over ‘ere, bunny." He shook his head and patted the space next to him on the bed.

"Ehm... I don't know."

"Jesus, I don't bite. You need to get used to bein’ close to me. Joel isn't stupid. He'll sense that something's fishy if you're skittish like that."

You couldn't deny that he was right. So you came up to the other side of the bed and settled next to him.

"Wanna tell me a bit about yourself, beautiful?" he asked, flashing you a charming smile.

You felt your cheeks burn but after a moment of hesitation, you began telling him about your hobbies, your friends and your plans after graduation. He didn't interrupt you. He asked a few questions but mostly he was just nodding, listening to you attentively. A few times his gaze slid down to your lips, your cleavage, your naked legs, crossed at the ankles.

His eyes were leaving a pleasant heat in their wake until your whole body lit up and a constant warmth settled between your legs. Your pussy was tingling only from you being next to your new acquaintance, hearing his scent, masculine and enticing, seeing him smile at your words. His hazel eyes were getting darker the longer you talked, the more he looked at you.

“What about you, Johnny? What do you do?” You asked, wishing to learn more about the man you were about to fake date.

He averted his eyes and rubbed his scruffy cheek.

”It’s complicated, baby. I’d tell you if you were my girlfriend. For real I mean. But —.” He looked at you with an apologetic smile.

“Oh,” is all you could say in return, blinking at him.

“I can tell you that I travel a lot. ‘s prolly why we’ve never met. I can’t often visit Joel and Sarah.”

It got silent in the room for a moment except for the sound of birds’ chirping, coming through an open window.

“Do you wanna watch something?“ you asked, suddenly feeling awkward.

“Yeah, ‘k.” Johnny took his boots off and placed his feet on the bed. You marveled at how quickly he seemed to get comfortable but decided that he was just that easy-going.

You took your laptop and asked what he wanted to watch.

“Whatever you want, beautiful.”

You smiled at the compliment and your chest fluttered.

”We can watch The Office. It always relaxes me.”

“Yeah, I really wanna see you relaxed, bunny,” he smirked and you stuck your tongue out at him.

A few minutes later you were on the bed, shoulder to shoulder, watching a random episode of the Office that you put on.

Soon Johnny slid down the bedspread and placed his head on your pillow.

“C’mere,” he mumbled, pulling you down with him.

You didn’t know how and why you let him but soon his hand was wrapped around your shoulder and your head was resting on his broad chest.

He was warm and big and you felt your panties dampen more.

“I like that guy,” he commented after some time of watching.

“Ryan? He’s kind of a douche,” you giggled.

“Really?” Johnny hummed.

You continued watching the show, sometimes chuckling from time to time. Once Johnny absentmindedly bucked his hips up and your gaze involuntarily landed on a prominent bulge in his jeans. And then a few times on purpose.

Getting too turned on, you closed your eyes, trying to calm down the fire in your core. Unfortunately it got worse as without your eyesight your whole being concentrated on the strong arm resting heavily on you, on Johnny's scent, his steady, deep breathing.

“Baby?”

Johnny’s voice took you out of your horny trance and you hummed feeling your cheeks burn.

“Can you tell me something?”

“Yes?”

He sat up and you did the same, looking at him with confusion, trying to hide your arousal.

“Can you close your eyes and tell me if my voice is similar to Joel’s? People always answer differently. I wanna know what you think.”

You raised your brows.

“I can tell you right now. It’s similar. Very.”

“No, close your eyes, listen to it.”

You shrugged your shoulders and did what he asked, a little smile dancing on your lips.

“Hey, baby. You're very beautiful.” You smiled wider when you heard his gruff voice, squealing inside at the compliment.

”Thank you, Joel,” you laughed and added, “You sound just like him.” You opened your eyes but Johnny shook his head, motioning for you to shut them again. You did and heard the man sigh deeply.

“Ya know. I’ve been such a fool. I didn’t notice you before but now I see. How gorgeous you are. Crazy hot.”

Your smile vanished as you were listening to him, eyes closed, chewing on your lip. You had dreamed of hearing those words for such a long time that your heart could burst out of your chest at the moment.

“You have a girlfriend, Joel,” you whispered, playing along.

”She’s a mistake. Wish you could forgive me for not tellin’ you all this sooner… Wish I could rip this pretty dress off you and make you scream my name right now.”

Your breath hitched and a new surge of wetness made you squirm in your place.

“Wish I could kiss you right now.”

You instinctively wetted your lips, hearing his words, and the next second Johnny pressed his mouth to yours. You tensed up at first but in a second your body melted at the soft touch. Not opening your eyes, you tilted your head slightly to the side and parted your lips, inviting him in. Immediately Johnny’s tongue slipped inside and brushed yours, gently at first but then more assertively. He was swallowing your pleasured whimpers again and again as you were making out.

”Johnny, I can’t,” you murmured, pulling away and breaking the kiss.

You glanced at him and his expression took your breath away. He looked like he was ready to pounce on you any second. His eyes were burning with desire, lips glistened with your saliva and his broad chest was heaving, dangerously close to ripping his tee.

He visibly tried to calm himself down— he took a deep breath and then placed your hand between his.

“Yeah, fuck, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lost control like that.” His expression softened as his eyes were locked with yours.

“No, don’t be. It was nice but … but…”

You struggled to continue, the words got stuck in your throat.

Johnny’s eyes were darting between yours, as he was patiently waiting for you to continue.

Then you whispered, your voice barely audible, gaze downcast, “I’m a virgin.”

You expected any reaction but not the one he gave you.

“Fuck.”

Your eyes snapped up at him and tears immediately welled up in your eyes. Johnny looked straight up disappointed. He pulled away from you and your sob broke the icy silence in the room. You were always terrified to admit it to people, especially to men, and at that moment your worst nightmare was coming true.

“‘s bad,” Johnny mumbled, still not looking at you. “Shit.”

You were hurt but your pain quickly turned into anger.

“Please leave!”

As if finally having noticed your distress, Johnny turned to you, shaking his head.

“Oh fuck, no, no, I don’t mind. Shit. I think— it’s great—for whatever reason you—no. It’s Joel, baby.”

“What? What about Joel?” you asked, feeling a little better, when he took your hands in his and answered,

”He’s not a fan of virgins. Never was. He told me many times he didn’t want the responsibility of bein’ someone’s first.”

“Why?” You felt your heart shuttering again.

“Don’t know,” Johnny shrugged, ”I guess he prefers someone more experienced. Once he broke up with a girl when he found out she was a virgin.”

Now it was your turn to curse.

“Fuck.” You probably looked absolutely defeated and Johnny rapidly wrapped his arm around you to pull you to his torso.

You started silently crying on his shoulder, having realized that Joel would never love you, would never even give you a chance.

Johnny was rubbing your arm with his big warm hand while you were soaking his white tee with tears, until he said,

“You know, it’s not a big deal.”

You sniffed and sat up straight.

“What do you mean not a big deal?” your voice was shaky and small. “You’ve just said he hates virgins.”

Johnny lifted his hand to wipe your wet face with his thick fingers.

“Kinda easy to lose it, beautiful. Your v card.”

“No, it’s not. I wanted Joel to— to do it. I don’t want anyone else.”

You were pouting your lips, eyes reddened and teary staring at the man sitting close to you. In your blurry vision he looked even more like Joel.

”I can help you, bunny,” Johnny offered with a lopsided smile. He tilted his head to the side and waited for your reaction.

You swallowed loudly when you heard him and turned away. You couldn’t deny that Johnny was hot, your soaked panties were a good evidence of your desire for him but how could you do it with a man you had just met. Who wasn’t Joel.

Joel who had a girlfriend.

Joel who didn’t want to deal with virgins.

Joel who never noticed you.

You looked back at the twin brother of the man you loved and asked,

“Would you really do it for me?”

Johnny cleared his throat.

“Ehm… yeah, why wouldn’t I? You’re hot,” he said it so matter of fact-ly that it sounded sincere and you believed that he really wanted to help.

“Ok, good,” you said, with an air of uncertainty. “We can try but maybe not today, ok? We’ve just met,” you mumbled, fumbling with your fingers.

“Yeah. ‘Course,” Johnny smirked and then quickly added, “Did you like it when I kissed you?”

Not looking at the man you nodded.

“Want me to do it again?”

His question made your heart skip a beat. You had felt amazing when he had kissed you, your body reacted to him in a wonderful way and, after glancing up at his plush lips, you nodded the second time.

Johnny gently cupped your cheek and leaned towards you. His lips began caressing yours, your tongues tangled and, not breaking the kiss, you scooted closer to him on the bed. He read your intentions and pulled you into his big strong arms. His hand snaked up to the back of your head, the other was pressed to your lower back, keeping you close, as you were tasting him, feeling his heart thump against your chest. You were floating.

Soon his mouth slithered to your jaw and he nibbled on your skin there while his hands began roaming your body, gliding over your back, your arms until he squeezed your ass with his palms and you moaned into his mouth.

“Oh, baby, ya fuckin’ hot,” he groaned and you felt his lips suck a hickey into your neck while his hand snaked under your skirt. He engulfed your whole asscheek with his palm and your thin lacy panties easily let the heat of his skin seep through. You whimpered when the pads of his fingers glided down to your clothed pussy. Just one touch was enough for your brain to panic and you pulled away from him.

“Sorry, Johnny, it’s too much.”

You wanted to get off the bed, the whirlwind of emotions overwhelming you, but he grabbed you by the hand.

“Don’t leave. Please. Sorry, bunny. I went in too fast.“

You sat down on your heels, catching your breath and trying to calm down your foggy mind and burning up body.

“Let’s cuddle. C’mon. Jus’ wanna hold you.”

He returned your laptop to your desk and lay down on the bed that now seemed too small for his huge body. It made the whole situation even hotter.

A fear of the unknown and an immense desire were fighting in your heart, and you let the latter win, assuring yourself that you were just going to get used to him hugging you, so you could get close to Joel later.

That’s why you let him wrap his strong arms around you, let his face be inches from yours, let his hot breath fan your lips, let his scent intoxicate you. You were lying in his embrace for just a few moments before his lips found yours, and you didn’t fight it anymore, you welcomed their warmth.

He was more careful that time, slowly pulling you close to his body, but his hands didn’t wander. What was making you melt was his quiet words, seeping into your ears between kisses, barely audible through your soft whimpers, smacking of the lips and his breathing.

“Ya taste like honey—beautiful girl—Joel’s fuckin’ lucky—so pretty—could eat you whole, baby.”

Contrary to him, you were getting bolder and sent your hands roam his broad back, squeeze his masculine arms, glide over the slopes of his shoulders and then run through his short hair that pleasantly tickled your palms.

It was a matter of time before he slowly pushed you on your back and began kissing your neck. You tilted your head back into the pillow, giving him more access and he happily growled against your heated skin.

“Good girl,” you heard his praise and the ache of your pussy made you press your thighs together.

“Oh, Joe…Johnny,” you started and then hastily corrected yourself.

Johnny stopped nibbling on your collarbone and your heart froze, expecting him to get angry, but the man smiled at you.

“You can call me Joel, beautiful… to practice, yeah? Soon he’s gonna be the one kissin’ you.”

The suggestion sounded insane but in your aroused, overwhelmed with feelings state you let yourself imagine the man you loved caressing you with his lips. You fluttered your eyes shut and it was so easy to fantasize about Joel’s hand holding your hip and pressing you into the mattress, Joel’s lips peppering kisses along your neck and then going down, reaching the plush of your cleavage. Drowning in your fantasy you missed the moment Johnny’s chin pushed your neckline down, exposing more of your breasts. You rubbed your thighs against each other, chasing pressure on your tingling pussy, as his palm started kneading your tit over the fabric.

“Yeah, Joel,” you breathed out and didn’t stop yourself that time, fully succumbing to the want of your heart and body.

Your mind turned off completely, you were so gone in pleasure, that when you finally opened your eyes, to your surprise you saw Johnny’s hot tongue swirl around your pebbled nipple. A loud moan flew out of your parted lips as your hazy gaze took in the sight of your dress and bra pulled down and the man caressing your nipples, alternating between sucking and licking them, while your naked chest was heaving under his ministrations.

With his mouth almost engulfing your whole breast, Johnny glanced up at you and his blown out lustful eyes sent another bolt of arousal through your core.

“Johnny, please,” was all you could muster. He hummed into your tit before parting from it and searching for your glossy eyes.

“Do you like it when I do this?” He asked, his breath hitting your saliva coated skin, your nipples as hard as diamonds now. You mumbled a weak ’yeah’..

“Good. And have you ever had your pussy kissed, beautiful?”

You bit your lip, almost reaching your high just from hearing the question.

“No,” you whispered back and Johnny shot you a mysterious smile.

“Can I be the first, baby?”

“I— I don’t know,” you said hesitantly.

“C’mon, bunny. I wanna make you feel good. Wanna feel real good?”

The act seemed to you so intimate and vulnerable, just an idea of it made you anxious.

“Lil scared bunny,” he smiled and then wrapped his fingers around your naked breast, holding it in his hand. “Look.”

A second later his lips brushed your nipple again, his dark eyes locked with yours.

“Imagine the nipple is your little clit. I’ll jus’ lick it like that.”

His tongue stroked it, covering the sensitive bud in his saliva.

“Then I’ll suck on it like this.”

Johnny took it into his mouth and applied gentle suction to it.

“I’ll make you come so hard like that. It’s just another type of kissing, baby.”

You’ve never been turned on more than at that moment so after a few moments of consideration you shoved your fears away and whimpered,

“Ok.”

“Good girl.”

You hole clenched when you heard his praise. Johnny pulled the hem of his tee up and took it off.

Your breath hitched when you saw his strong chest and soft belly with a happy trail that led under his jeans. Johnny casually glided his hand over his strong torso and you bit your lip, not letting out another needy whimper.

“‘s getting too hot,” he mumbled and lay down between your thighs. His legs were hanging off the bed and you marveled at the muscles, flexing in his back and shoulders. You wondered if Joel’s body was as gorgeous as his twin brother’s. Of course it was, you thought.

The dress was still covering you and after a nod from you, Johnny lifted your skirt. Your hips flew up as if by themselves when he started sliding your panties off.

”Fuck, baby, this is the most beautiful pussy I’ve ever seen,” his soft voice praised you as you were lying in front of him, almost naked and trembling with nerves.

“Thank you,” you whispered back.

“Can’t wait to taste you.”

He spread your folds with his index finger and a thumb while his shoulders were keeping your thighs wider apart. Your pussy opened up to him like an offering.

“Pretty flower,” he commented and immediately did what he’d promised.

He licked your hardened clit, drawing a pathetic moan from you, and then lapped at it a few times. The sensations you were feeling were incomparable to anything you’d ever experienced. Your hand darted to your naked breasts and you began twitching your nipples.

“Fuck, yeah,” he mumbled against your sex and the vibrations sent shivers through your body.

Johnny smiled, having noticed your reaction, and began sucking on your bud, massaging it between his lips.

“Ahhh—oh my god—oh yeah,” was all you could mutter. When you were on the brink of ecstasy, his tongue slid down and snuck into your virginal hole. He began fucking you with it, spreading your walls with his flattened tongue and your needy screams, moans and whimpers filled the bedroom. You were sure that if someone was passing by your house, they’d hear the sounds of your pleasure but your mind was switched off, only the bliss between your legs and the man giving it to you mattered at that moment.

You tried to grab his hair but it was too short to hold on to so your palm pressed onto the back of his head as you were greedily holding Johnny's mouth against your pussy.

“Fuckin’ delicious. Can’t believe I’m first.”

With your glossed over gaze you watched him return his tongue to your throbbing clit and stroke it a few times, until your eyes rolled back and a hard orgasm exploded like fireworks inside your core, sending hot waves of euphoria through your body.

Johnny didn’t stop lapping at you until you tried to close your legs, the ache of overstimulation burning you.

He sat up and wiped his wet chin with the back of his hand, the other hand splayed over your thigh, gently rubbing it.

“Look at you, beautiful. Came hard for me, huh? Jus’ like I promised.”

He smiled at you, visibly pleased with your almost drunk post-orgasmic state. Your tits were out and slightly pushed up by the neckline, nipples puffy from his and your caress, your summer dress bunched up around your waist, your glistening pussy fully on display.

While your eyes were admiring the beauty of his features, so similar to Joel’s, you failed to notice his hands unzipping his jeans and pulling them down.

Your gaze darted to the lower part of his body when you spotted a movement there— his hard cock bobbing over your naked cunt.

It was long, quite thick, with a fat tip that was oozing clear precum. He stroked the shaft a couple of times with his big hand and grunted, “ya wanna make me feel good too, baby?”

As if by an instinct your thighs opened up wider, inviting him inside you, your mind clouded by lust.

“Yes, Johnny.”

“Nah, baby, call me Joel,” he gruffed as he bent down, planted his hands on the bed, next to your shoulders and added, ”I know you wanna. And I ain’t against role playing.”

“Really?”

“Sure, bunny.”

It was wrong. And so hot at the same time. You giggled, sound strained by the nerves, twisting your stomach. He was big and you had never imagined your first time happening with a man you’d just met. Yet your pussy was screaming to be pierced with a cock. His cock. You’d never been turned on that much in your life and you gave in to the temptation without a second thought.

His lips found yours at the same time his tip nudged your hole, and when his tongue slipped into your mouth, the head of his cock pushed assertively into you.

He swallowed your whine and paused, hovering over your face, your eyes locked.

“Shit, ya tight. But we can do it, yeah, bunny?”

”It hurts, Johnny.”

“Shhh, not Johnny, remember? C’mon, it’ll help you relax.”

“Joel.”

“Yeah, good girl.”

As if the name of the man you loved was magical, you walls relaxed a little, letting in a few inches of his brother’s manhood.

Johnny planted a light kiss on your lips and you felt his thumb graze your clit before he began gently rubbing it.

“Close your eyes, beautiful, let my cock taste your sweet cunt.”

“Oh, fuck, Joel,” you moaned, fully lost in the fantasy, and squeezed your eyelids shut.

“Now breathe. Big breaths, bunny.”

He was whispering praise into your ear, distracting you from the dull pain of the stretch, slowly pushing his length in while his thumb was swirling around your clit.

“Like that, beautiful—yeah, tight little cunt— the tip’s in—good, so good—a little more, baby—my good girl—fuck, it’s almost in—-YEAHHH..”

His triumphant growl mixed with your loud moan when his balls hit your ass and you felt full like never before.

As soon as he sheathed his manhood inside your warm tight cunt, your lips locked, and while your tongues were sliding against each other, you were trying to get used to the feeling of something so long and thick stuffed inside you.

Your walls soon accommodated his cock and the pain slowly dissipated, giving way to pleasure.

“Ima be gentle, baby,” Johnny promised, after breaking the kiss, and languidly rolled his hips into yours. The sensation of his big member moving inside your tight channel made you tilt your head back into the pillow and open your lips in a silent moan.

He didn’t lie. With one hand planted on the bed, the other playing with your clit, he was sliding his cock in and out of your sopping pussy, slowly but surely bringing you closer to the peak. Your greedy hands danced over the slopes of his strong chest, fingers digging into his biceps, nails leaving white marks on his tan skin.

“Yes, Joel—please—so good, Joel,” you were whispering, letting your broken heart believe that the man you had always dreamed about was between your legs at that moment.

Johnny’s greedy eyes couldn’t get enough of you- your lustful expression, your tits bouncing with each thrust, your folds, spread around his base.

“Ya have the wettest pussy, baby. Soakin’ me so good. Look at all that cream.”

With hazy eyes you watched him swipe his thumb over the base of his cock, coated in your pearly juices, and bring it to his lips. He took the finger in his mouth and hummed in pleasure.

Your tongue slid over your lower lip and, taking it as an invitation, Johnny kissed you, sharing the taste of your desire.

You were melting under his unhurried thrusts, but your core needed more and, too shy to ask for it, you began meeting his hips halfway, fucking yourself on his cock harder.

“Mmm, bunny wants more?” Johnny smirked into a corner of your lips.

“Yes, Joh—Joel, please.”

“Of course, beautiful. Let’s make this sweet pussy scream.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he sat up and pulled your hips to himself. You slid one the bed with a gasp and he chuckled before thrusting in harder.

His tip hit your cervix and you grasped the sheets with a moan.

“Hurts, baby?”

“A little.”

He shook his head, grabbed a spare pillow and, after lifting your hips, placed it under your ass.

“Now?” he asked as he pulled his cock out to the tip and then shoved it back inside.

You whimpered when his cock kissed something delicious inside you and the sensation made you clench around his stiff member.

“Like that, yes, yes,” you mumbled, sounding drunk, eyes set on the place where you were joined.

Johnny smiled and rolled his hips again, the stroke hard and deep, and then again and again until he was rutting into you while you were turning into a whimpering, cock-dumb mess.

When he tilted his hips up and drilled his manhood into your cunt, you both saw a bulge appear in your belly and you gasped at the sight. You’d never seen anything like it.

Not stopping, Johnny placed his palm over the lump and tilted his head, watching and feeling his cock move under your skin.

“Fuck, ‘s hot.” He looked mesmerized. “You’re hot, bunny. Shit, gonna come soon. Do it with me.”

His thumb continued dancing on your clit and it took just a few strokes for you to explode. Your pulsating pussy was flattering around his manhood, nerves ablaze, while your juices flooded him inside your core, soaking his hot, soft skin, stretched over his throbbing cock. It was the hardest, most pleasant orgasm of your life and the warmth between your legs spread out, filling your heart with gratitude and affection.

Johnny was unaware of your inner feelings, and as soon as your pussy relaxed around him, he pulled his cock out and after a couple of pumps, started painting your pussy and belly with pearly white ropes of his thick cum.

You watched his balls draw up, his slit push out the load like you’d never seen anything more beautiful. Endorphins in your blood made you feel like you were floating, your limbs pleasantly tingling, and when your eyes met, you gave Johnny a tired, satisfied smile.

He answered it with his lopsided one and plopped on the bed next to you. You were catching your breath for some time until he tucked his softening cock into his jeans, got up and went to the bathroom.

You felt like you couldn’t move a muscle and, when he returned, he helped you to clean up with a wet towel.

“I reckon you ain’t on the pill,” he mumbled, wiping the cum off your skin.

“No. I will be,” you said, glancing up at him but his eyes were set on the task.

When he was done, you reached for him.

“Wanna cuddle?”

To your disappointment Johnny shook his head, and grabbed his tee off the floor.

“Need to go, bunny. I have a thing.”

You sat up, fixing your wrinkled dress, covering yourself up.

“Ok.” Your voice, small and sad, made him pause and he stepped up to the bed and bent down, reaching for you.

His hand cupped your heated cheek and he kissed you before speaking.

“Let’s have dinner tomorrow. At Joel’s.”

You beamed at him, nodding eagerly.

Before leaving he wrote his number on a note and gave you a wink.

“Wear something hot for Joel. And for me.”

You barely slept that night— the memory of your first sex was playing on a loop in your head. Every time you closed your eyes, you felt Johnny’s hands on your body, his cock stretching you, and your pussy ached for him again. You made yourself come twice with your fingers and when the sun was already breaking through the inky sky, only then you fell asleep.

The next day you woke up early and texted Johnny ‘good morning’. He didn’t reply and you thought he must be still sleeping. So you busied yourself with preparations for the dinner— choosing the clothes to wear, makeup, accessories. You wanted to look casual but hot like Johnny had asked you. You decided on a pair of tight jeans and a sexy top and went to the kitchen.

You lied to your parents that in the evening you were meeting a friend. Like always after any party your mom was spilling out all the gossip she’d gathered the day before. Both you and your dad just hummed here and there, not really interested in the boring rumors but suddenly your ears perked up when she mentioned Joel’s twin brother.

”I can’t believe that man. No shame at all.”

She noticed that she finally had your active attention and her eyes lit up.

“What’s wrong with Johnny?” you asked, while fear was creeping up in your chest.

“He’s such a deadbeat brother. Poor Joel.”

It seemed like you stopped breathing altogether, listening to your mother talk about the man who had taken your virginity the day before. She continued,

“Johnny visits him once a year, borrows money and vanishes until the next time he needs it. Joel’s a single father! Working man! And that leach uses his kindness and generosity. Ugh!”

“How do you know all that?” you asked, grasping at the last straw of hope that it was a lie, misunderstanding, baseless rumour.

“Dear, everyone knows that,” your mother laughed and started talking about the other neighbor who had told her and you didn’t hear her anymore. Your thoughts were racing and your heart was pounding loudly in your ears.

You excused yourself and ran to your room.

‘He vanishes’—the words of your mother were ringing in your head, your stomach being twisted by nerves.

You plopped on your bed and called Johnny. He didn’t pick up. You decided to wait. 5 min later you called him again. Nothing.

In three hours you were a nervous mess. You had cried several times, had sent dozens of messages that were unanswered and unread, had called him more times that you wished to admit but hadn’t heard his voice once.

That phone number was the only thing that he had left you, yet you realized that there was another option.

You put on the clothes you’d prepared for the dinner, rinsed your face off your tears as well as you could and headed to Joel’s.

When you knocked on the door, you feared that no one would answer. The uncertainty was suffocating you and your breathing was heavy. All you wished for was to get answers - did the man who had taken your virginity lie to you? Did he use you like a fuck toy and vanished? Was his attention to you just a means to get into your panties?

You were chewing nervously on your lower lip when Joel opened the door. For a second you thought it was Johnny, so much they looked alike but a little ray of hope dissipated when you saw the man’s soft curls.

”Hey, sweetheart,” Joel greeted you, visibly confused by your visit.

You cleared your throat and mumbled,

“Hello. Could I see Johnny?”

Joel opened his mouth and closed it before mumbling,

“Fuck.”

Your heart fell in your stomach when you saw him pinch the bridge of his nose and sigh.

“Sweetheart. Excuse me but— Was he with you yesterday?”

You nodded and he cursed again.

“He told me— he—,” Joel paused, his expression sad and apologetic. ”I’m so sorry, sweetie, but he left this morning. I don’t know what he told you but—.”

He shook his head, looking physically pained to be telling you that.

When all your fears were proven right, you couldn’t keep your despair inside anymore. Tears burst out of your eyes as you were nodding at Joel’s words like everything was alright. Like you weren’t hurt. The tears flowed so much that you barely could see Joel through the wetness in your eyes.

Joel placed his warm hand on your shoulder.

“Please, sweetheart, come inside.”

When you asked Joel about Johnny, he immediately understood that you were the girl he had slept with the previous night. Johnny had bragged about fucking the hottest chick in the neighborhood.

Joel couldn’t believe it had been you, so shy and sweet, he’d never expected Johnny to get his hands on someone so pure and lovely.

He felt horrible for letting his vagabond brother into his home again, and subsequently into your life. When you were sitting in his kitchen, crying quietly, he wanted to comfort you so badly his heart hurt. He placed a hot cup of tea in front of you and you thanked him between sobs. A pang of guilt shot through his heart.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he cooed, stepping up to you. He took your hands in his and when you lifted your face and gave him a little smile, your gorgeous eyes full of tears, Joel felt something stir in his heart. Something he hadn’t felt for a long time. It made his breath hitch for a moment.

Even with your face streaked with tears you were so damn beautiful.

Why hadn’t he ever noticed how beautiful you were?

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

MASTERLIST

General tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @joelmillerisapunk @pascaltesfaye @fruityreads @itwasntimethatdidit40

[starsewl]

Weekend Getaway

pairing: BestfriendModel!Mingyu & Dancer!Hoshi & Athlete!Dokyeom x Novelist!Reader

rating: 18+ | word count: 4.1k

summary: You join your longtime friend Mingyu and his two equally irresistible friends, Hoshi and Dokyeom on a quiet weekend getaway to a secluded villa. What begins as an innocent escape quickly turns into a night of unleashed lust. When the men discover your writing inspired by them, they decide to help your “research”—taking you through a wild, unrelenting night of overstimulation.

tw/cw: explicit sexual content, 4some, overstimulation, squirting, cigarette, piercing, harsh words

That weekend means nothing. No birthdays. No events. Just another two days in the calendar when Mingyu suddenly invites me to a getaway with him and his two friends. I say yes right away—I mean, who says no to spending a weekend with three stupidly attractive men?

Mingyu is a model. Not just “IG pretty”—he’s billboard, magazine cover, can-make-anything-look-luxury kind of gorgeous. The camera worships him. Every pose is deliberate, every angle flawless.

Hoshi’s energy hits different. He’s a dancer, owns a studio, and his body moves like it’s speaking a language only muscles and rhythm can understand. There’s power in every step, and joy in every spin.

Then there’s Dokyeom. A national swimmer. Tan lines, muscle lines, the kind of sunny smile that makes you think maybe the world isn’t all that bad. He’s friendly, comforting, and ridiculously built. He glows.

“You need healing,” Mingyu tells me, his deep voice wrapping around my bones like velvet. “I invited Hoshi and Dokyeom too.”

“They’re coming?” I sip my iced coffee, glancing over at Mingyu sprawled on my couch. His white t-shirt stretches across his chest like a second skin, and the shorts? They show off those lean legs way too easily. I swallow.

“Scared?” he teases, lips curving. He toys with my hoodie string, slow, seductive, like he knows.

“So confident.” I try to hide behind my coffee glass. “Why would I be scared?”

“Good.” He chuckles low. “We all need a break.”

I’ve known Mingyu since we were kids, growing up on the same street, fighting over swings and comic books. But this Mingyu? The man with the body, the voice, the look—he’s dangerous now. And still my best friend. Maybe that’s the problem.

“Maybe I’ll get some writing inspiration,” I shrug, though my last novel was already a thinly disguised fantasy involving these three men. They don’t know. Only they know I write adult romance. Everyone else just thinks I’m a writer.

“Bring your laptop,” Mingyu says as he stands and walks closer. Each step is slow, like he’s stalking something. “You might get new ideas.”

He stops beside me, towering. I tilt my head to meet his eyes. He smells like cologne, cedar, and something warmer—his skin maybe? My mouth goes dry.

“This weekend, okay?” he murmurs, eyes locked to mine. “Don’t forget.”

***

Two days later, Mingyu's car drove slowly along a narrow path framed by tall pine trees. The rows of sturdy trunks formed a kind of green tunnel, wrapping the road in natural shadows that made this place feel like another world. After the last bend was passed, a two-story wooden villa appeared in front of our eyes—looking like a house from a romcom movie: a spacious terrace with wooden chairs, large windows welcoming light, and a backyard directly bordered by dense forest. Fresh air. The sound of birds and wind whispers through the leaves.

“Wow, this is so cool!” Hoshi bursts out first, running toward the front door with arms stretched like a kid.

“It’s way too close to the forest,” I mutter. “What if someone tries to kidnap us?”

“They’d give you back for being too loud,” Dokyeom laughs, pulling bags from the trunk.

“Asshole,” Hoshi fires back, still grinning.

Inside? Oh god. Wooden walls. Dark floors that creak just right. A stone fireplace. A soft L-shaped sofa facing the forest view. Kitchen gleaming with marble and metal. A huge table in the middle—thick wood, perfect for late dinners... or something else.

“There are three bedrooms,” Mingyu says, tapping the door code. “One downstairs, two up.”

“Perfect,” Hoshi says, flopping onto the sofa. “So how are we splitting?”

“Room with me,” Dokyeom answers instantly.

“Okay!!” Hoshi chirps, no hesitation.

***

Night settles in like a blanket. Hoshi insists on cooking—claims he makes “god-level ramyeon,” even though he’s clearly never touched a kitchen in his life. We don’t argue.

The result? Surprisingly good. Spicy, hot, with soft-boiled eggs and dumplings Dokyeom makes from scratch. We sit around the massive wooden table, laughter echoing through the room, stories tossed around like old shoes.

“You never talk about your novel,” Hoshi says suddenly, giving me a sly look over his chopsticks. “Mingyu said you write hot scenes.”

I choke on broth. “I didn’t say that!”

“But you did,” Mingyu smirks, handing me a tissue. “Over lunch. Last month.”

“What genre is it exactly?” Dokyeom asks, tone too innocent.

“Romance,” I reply quickly. “Just… normal romance.”

“What kind of romance?” Hoshi leans forward, elbow on the table, mischief in his eyes. “Vanilla? Or with a little spice?”

My face burns. They can’t know the truth. Can’t know my last draft is basically them—but naked and tangled in sheets.

“A little spicy,” I mumble, heart thudding.

“A little?” Mingyu raises an eyebrow. “Didn’t you tell me it made you hot while writing it?”

Fuck. Did I really say that?

“I want to read it!” Hoshi perks up.

“You brought your laptop, right? C’mon, share it!”

“No,” I protest fast. “It’s not done. Still a mess.”

“So when it’s finished?” Dokyeom smiles. “You’ll let us read it, right?”

My chair scrapes back. “Anyone want dessert? I saw ice cream.”

“She’s running away…” Hoshi whispers to Dokyeom, just loud enough for me to hear.

***

After dinner, everyone returns to their rooms except for me. I am alone in the living room. The atmosphere is calm. I sit on the long sofa in the living room, laptop on my lap, a glass of wine on the side table. Only a small lamp in the corner of the room is on, creating a dim atmosphere perfect for writing. Outside, the sound of wind and night birds can sometimes be heard, interspersed with the creaking of wood.

I continue my pending novel draft. This chapter is really difficult to write, not because I don't know what to write, but because it is too... intense. The main female character in my novel is trapped in a situation similar to mine now—in a remote place with three guys who make her breathless.

"Five minutes passes in torturous silence. She can feel their gazes like physical touches on her skin. His hand slips in, his breath heavy in my ear. Amid the beating, I can only surrender. Surrender to their bodies drawing closer—three men, three scents, three tongues, three sins."

I stop typing. Take a deep breath. Somehow my fingers move uncertainly over the keyboard. I sip the wine slowly, trying to calm myself. But the images are already clear in my head—three pairs of hands, three pairs of eyes, three...

"So this is how you write your steamy scenes?

A familiar deep voice. I turn, and there—Mingyu, standing half-leaning against the wall near the kitchen, wearing a thin, slightly wrinkled t-shirt, loose boxer shorts. His hair is messy and his eyes half-sleepy.

"Shit," I hurriedly close the laptop. "What are you doing?"

"I'm not spying. You're sitting in the middle of the room, how could I not see?" he says casually, sitting at the end of the sofa, near my feet. "I'm just curious. Who's that about?"

"It's not about anyone, it's fiction." I answer quickly.

"But the inspiration must come from somewhere."

He leans back, his large shoulder almost touching my bare leg. "You're writing a scene with three guys, one girl, in the middle of the night. Coincidence?"

I open my mouth to answer, but a sound from the direction of the stairs cuts off our conversation.

"Oh, you're both still up?" Hoshi appears walking casually, but his eyes immediately go to the laptop on my lap.

"You're writing?" He walks closer and immediately sits on the sofa back behind me, bending down from above, his chin very close to my head. "Can I read it?"

"No," I answer quickly.

"Then you must be writing a steamy scene, huh," he replies with a laugh. "You're really... it's always the innocent one."

Before I can hit him with a pillow, one more person appears from the room hallway, Dokyeom. His hair is messy, his voice hoarse typical of someone who just woke up.

"Why is it noisy here? I thought someone was fighting."

“Our little writer here’s working on a threesome,” Mingyu says, poking my leg.

“Insane,” I mutter, pinching his thigh.

Dokyeom just grins and sinks to the carpet in front of me. “Tell us what it’s about.”

Three pairs of eyes on me. I freeze.

Mingyu leans in, voice low. “If you don’t want to tell us…”

His fingers brush my thigh.

“…maybe show us instead.”

 I don’t know when the laptop slides under the table. Maybe it’s when Hoshi’s fingers tug at the back of my shirt, making that slow, drawn-out creeeek sound, like old wood cracking under pressure. Too suggestive. Too real. Or maybe it’s Dokyeom—now sitting on the sofa beside me, one hand curled around my calf, the other gliding up the inside of my thigh. Those fingers? Big. Warm. Deliberate.

My thoughts are gone.

Mingyu’s hand finds my cheek, brushing a strand of hair away. “Do you write like this every night?”

His voice drips with something darker now. Closer. He already knows the answer.

“No…” I whisper, breath catching. “Only when I’m… needy.”

He leans in, lips grazing my ear. “Are you needy now?”

I don’t answer with words. I kiss him.

Soft. Slow. Wet. His lips crush mine like he’s been waiting years. His tongue slides over mine, coaxing, tasting, controlling. The wine on his mouth mixes with the heat in my blood.

“Mmhh…”

My moan is the spark.

Behind me, Hoshi chuckles. “I want my turn too.”

He dips down, mouth meeting the side of my neck. His lips are warm, tongue bold, tracing fire along my skin. Then—Dokyeom. His hand is no longer idle. It slides under my shirt, palms my breast through the fabric, thumb brushing my nipple until I shudder. He kisses my shoulder. I gasp.

They lift me.

I don’t resist. Don’t question.

Mingyu and Dokyeom each take a side, lifting me like I weigh nothing. They carry me toward the thick wooden dining table. Hoshi follows, steps silent but intent sharp in his gaze. They set me on the edge, the cool wood shocking against the backs of my thighs. My shirt is half off already, crumpled around my arms. Hands strip the rest—tugging, sliding, exposing me fully. I’m left in nothing but thin black panties. Breathless. Goosebumps everywhere.

“You guys…” My voice trembles. “…I’ve never—ahh…”

Hoshi steps forward, eyes flicking down. His tongue peeks out—and that’s when I see it. The piercing. Silver. Gleaming on the tip of his tongue.

“You like what you see?” he teases, licking his lips. “Wanna know how it feels… on your pretty pussy?”

His hand wraps around my throat. Gentle, firm. Seeking permission. When I nod, barely—he moves.

His tongue trails from my collarbone to my chest. Slow. Deliciously slow. He doesn’t suck. Not yet. He teases. The cold metal of his piercing circles my nipple, sending shocks through me. I arch, hips bucking.

“H-hoshi…” I moan, louder now.

“Don’t hold back, princess,” Dokyeom whispers, behind me. His voice rumbles like thunder. “I want to hear you.”

Mingyu kisses my stomach. His hands rest on my thighs, spreading me wider. The kiss lowers. Each one more unbearable than the last. Behind, Dokyeom unclasps my bra. He doesn’t kiss. He blows. The cold air hits wet skin—Hoshi’s tongue still dancing—and I nearly break.

“S-shit…” I cry out. “Feels good…”

“Do you know…” Hoshi murmurs, still licking, “…I’ve imagined painting your body with my tongue… one line… all the way down…”

I’m writhing. Moving without meaning to.

Then Mingyu’s fingers slide inside my panties.

They don’t move at first. They just… rest. Pressing against soaked heat. Then—he starts. A slow rhythm. Deep strokes. His knuckles graze the soft lips between my thighs and I lose it.

“Ahh—fuck… Gyu…” I choke on the moan.

“Damn,” he grunts. “You’re leaking.”

He kisses below my navel, tongue dipping down, lower. Dokyeom’s hands are everywhere—palming my ass, guiding my back into his chest, whispering filth into my ear.

“You've been thinking about this, huh? Getting ruined by all three of us?”

“No—I—fuck—”

I didn't finish the sentence. Hoshi’s still sucking, piercing grinding my nipple. Dokyeom now on his knees behind, kissing the small of my back. Mingyu lowers, mouth nearing the place where his fingers just were. He peels the panties down—slowly. So slowly. Until I’m exposed. He doesn’t hesitate. He eats. Tongue first. Broad. Heavy. Licking up every drop. His lips seal over my clit, sucking hard.

“Akh—fuck!”

My whole body arches. I grab the edge of the table, the wood creaking beneath my grip.

“Time to make some material for a new chapter,” Mingyu growls between licks.

I moan. Loud. Unrestrained.

Hoshi’s hands work my chest. Dokyeom kisses the shell of my ear, still whispering.

I lose track of time. My orgasm crashes through me like a wave. Legs trembling. Breath gone. My panties hang off one foot. The table is a mess of sweat and slick.

And they’re not done.

Dokyeom had already returned to sit on the previous sofa. He leaned back casually but full of dominant aura. Legs spread wide, his hoodie already gone. His body was already completely naked, one hand patting his left thigh, signaling me to climb up and sit on his lap.

"Come on," he said slowly. But his voice was sharp.

"I want to feel you on my thigh."

"Thigh?" I was still panting.

"Practice everything you write."

And somehow, my body immediately responded to that command. Without asking. Without thinking. I got down from the table, walked slowly toward him. My legs were trembling, not because I was afraid. Rather... because I was curious. Because I imagined the hardness of his thigh—just looking at it, the muscles were as sharp as carvings. Especially when he sat like that, the position of his legs was very enticing. Big. Hard. Solid. Like covered in concrete.

I climb up. Slowly. One of my legs passed over his thigh, and my butt landed right on top of Dokyeom's left thigh. I leaned against his chest, hands resting on his shoulders for balance.

And when I moved a little... "Ah, fuck." I immediately moans loudly. I felt the hardness of his muscles parting between my legs. The friction immediately hit the most sensitive point.

"Enjoy it." Dokyeom leaned back, his eyes half-closed. But his hands went up to my waist, holding, directing the movement. "Move slowly first."

I start to move. A little. Up and down. Rubbing back and forth. "Mmmh... unghh..." my moans got louder, more uncontrollable.

Every time I rubbed forward, he deliberately hardened his thigh muscles. When I moved backward, the wet feeling from my own fluids made the friction even more slippery. My hands start to tremble, my nails pressing into his shoulders.

"Feels good... Dok-yeom... ahh... so good...shit!" I moaned in his ear, making him squeeze my hips harder.

When I looked behind, Mingyu and Hoshi were sitting not far away, in chairs across from us. They were busy watching the movement of my hips while stroking their own.

"Do you see her hips, Gyu?" muttered Hoshi to Mingyu, eyes not leaving me. "Fuck... I'm so hard."

Mingyu didn't answer. But his hand was clearly licking the tip of his finger, then stroking himself. His eyes focus, sharp, shifting to look from my lips, to my chest, to my hip movements that were getting wilder up and down. Dokyeom grins, tightening his thigh, making the pressure brutal. “Faster,” he whispers, slapping my ass. “Soak me.”

I whimper. I grind harder. Loud. Wet. The sound of skin and slick fills the room. Just as I’m about to explode—

“Not yet,” Mingyu growls.

I cry out in frustration. He stands in front of me. Hard. Thick. His cock hovers near my lips.

“Open,” he orders.

I do.

He slides in. My lips wrap around the head. His taste is salty, hot. His hand grips my hair while Dokyeom moves behind me. His hand still grabs my waist. I feel him shift slightly—then I hear it.

A soft click. I glance back. A lit match glows between his fingers. A cigarette rests between his lips. My breath catches.

“Do you mind?” he asks, the flame dancing near his face. Calm. Controlled.

Fuck. That’s so fucking sexy of him.

I shake my head, slow. No way in hell I’d stop him. He smiles—lazy, sinful—and lights it. The tobacco scent fills the air, thick and expensive with a hint of mint. He exhales upward, smoke curling around the soft lamp light, casting shadows on the ceiling.

Then Hoshi moves in front too. Replaces Mingyu. He pushes in deep. His piercing scrapes my lip as he moans, the smell of mint and smoke filling my lungs as I gag around Hoshi’s cock. Then he pulls back, smirking. “Time to show you what this tongue ring can really do.”

He drops down, squatting in front of me. Dokyeom’s hand flies to my back, steadying me so I don't fall from the shift. Hoshi's face is now right in front of my cunt, his eyes gleaming mischief.

“Pull her legs wider,” Hoshi tells Dokyeom. “I want to see everything.”

Dokyeom obeys immediately, his large hands hooking behind my knees and spreading me open, obscenely wide. I have no shame anymore—it's gone. Completely. Too good to care. Hoshi starts kissing my thighs, soft, barely there. Moving up, inch by inch, taking his time. He pauses at my center, blowing softly. My entire body jolts.

“You want to feel it?” he whispers, flicking out his tongue to flash the metal glint. “Been thinking about this since I met you.”

Before I can answer, his tongue touches down. Oh fuck— the cold metal meeting the heat of my cunt punches a moan from my throat that I can't swallow. That tiny barbell moves with wicked precision, gliding, pressing, circling all the right places, stealing the air from my lungs.

My head falls back against Dokyeom’s chest. He’s still smoking, still impossibly calm, his fingers threading through my hair. “Feel good?” he whispers, blowing warm smoke into my ear.

“Nnghh…” That's all I can manage. Because Hoshi’s piercing is dancing, up and down, cold in the middle of all that hot wet. His tongue’s a weapon. That metal? Unfair.

Mingyu’s still standing nearby, eyes dark and locked on me. His hand’s moving on its own, stroking, his breath short and shallow.

“Want to switch?” Dokyeom offers, exhaling a lazy stream of smoke.

Mingyu nods, taking a seat. I’m shifted, lifted from Dokyeom’s lap to Mingyu’s thighs. Hoshi doesn’t stop—his head still buried, tongue still working, god, that fucking piercing. Dokyeom stands, approaching. His eyes low, hungry. He unzips, cigarette hanging loose between his lips. The smoke swirls, thickening the air, choking it with tension.

“Open your mouth again,” he says, standing before me.

I do it without hesitation. Not because I’m scared—but because I want it. Desperately. His cock pushes past my lips, and the taste of mint and tobacco from his breath set me on fire.

Below, Hoshi goes feral. His tongue presses, swirls, that piercing spinning like a toy built for my destruction. My hips jerk on their own. I’m drowning in sensation.

“She’s about to cum,” Hoshi mutters, watching my thighs quiver. “Look at her tremble.”

“Don’t hold back,” Mingyu whispers, his hand tightening around my waist. “We want to see you lose control.”

Dokyeom removes his cigarette, blowing smoke up, lazy. “Show us,” he whispers, thrusting deeper into my throat.

And I break. Hoshi’s cold tongue, Mingyu’s warm hands, Dokyeom’s deep thrust and smoke curling through the room—it blends, it explodes, and my body shakes violently. Moans trapped in my stuffed mouth, tears leaking from my eyes as my orgasm rips through me.

Dokyeom collapses onto the sofa, his cigarette spent. Hoshi’s head rests against my thigh, that damn gleaming metal catching the light. Mingyu is still behind me, steady hands holding my shoulders.

My body’s wrecked. I’m trembling on the table, limbs limp, cunt soaked and twitching. I’ve lost count—Mingyu’s tongue, Hoshi’s piercing, Dokyeom’s fingers—it’s all just a blur of brutal pleasure. My lungs can’t keep up. My hair’s stuck to my face, sweat-slicked, my skin humming.

Then Mingyu leans close, breath brushing my ear, voice deep, cruel, so fucking composed.

“You look done, baby,” he says. “But we haven’t even fucking started.”

My stomach tightens. I try to move—protest? beg?—but my body’s shot. I don’t even notice until he grabs my hips, yanking me to the edge of the table, legs forced wide again.

Hoshi’s voice cuts in, thick with amusement. “She looks ruined.”

“She’s not ruined,” Dokyeom says behind him, voice like thunder. “Not yet.”

Mingyu’s cock presses to my entrance, thick, hard, slick with my own cum—and then he slams in. No warning. My scream tears loose, hoarse and raw. My whole body jolts, fingernails clawing at the table, grasping for anything. He doesn’t stop. He doesn’t even pause. Just pounds into me, merciless.

“Still fucking tight,” he groans, dragging out, slamming back in to the hilt. “Even after soaking the whole table.”

Then—fuck. Hoshi’s there again, sliding beneath me, mouth open, tongue already out.

“No! no, fuck—don’t—” I gasp, too sensitive, too much—

But he dives in, licking where Mingyu’s cock’s plunging in and out, flat tongue, cold metal tapping my clit. I scream again. My body’s spasming, unable to escape, unable to breathe. Mingyu grips tighter, using me like a fuckdoll, cock pounding.

“She’s already shaking,” Hoshi laughs, face glossy with my slick. “Sensitive little thing.”

“Make her cum again,” Dokyeom growls, lazily stroking himself in the shadows. “I want to see her break.”

Mingyu’s rhythm intensifies. The sound is filthy—wet, deep, messy. The stretch is brutal. Every thrust slams into something that makes me cry out. And that piercing—fuck—it flicks, circles, devastates my clit without pause.

And then I lose it.

My hips seize, my body jerks, and a burst of liquid sprays out, soaking them both. I scream into the wood, legs twitching, my pussy clamping around Mingyu’s cock so hard he groans. He pulls out. Cock twitching. Still not done.

“Clean it,” he commands.

Hoshi obeys instantly. Mouth open, licking up Mingyu’s shaft, dragging his tongue through the slick mess. I’m barely conscious. Then I feel breath—warm and heavy—by my ear. “Our turn.”

It’s a blur. Everything is soaked, ruined, twitching. My brain’s melting, cunt leaking, but I’m not empty for long. Hands find my hips—two pairs. One set is Hoshi’s—playful, familiar. The other? Big, rough, possessive. Dokyeom.

“Please…” I whisper, no clue who I’m begging. “More…”

Hoshi bends over my back, chest to mine, whispering in my ear. “Think you can take both of us, slut?”

I don’t answer. Just arch, spread my legs wider, that fluttering hole inviting them in. Dokyeom groans, low and hungry. “She’s still fucking leaking.”

They both press in. Hoshi first—curved, smooth. Then Dokyeom, thicker, his head nudging the same soaked entrance. They slide in together, side by side, stretching me impossibly.

“Oh god—oh fuckfuckfuck—” I can’t speak. The stretch is overwhelming. My pussy fights it, then yields, takes them both in like it’s what I was made for.

“Look at her,” Hoshi whispers. “Taking both of us. So fucking greedy.”

“She was made for this,” Dokyeom growls, gripping my hips. “She’s sucking us in.”

Once they’re both balls-deep, they start to move. Slow. Together. Fucking me like one monster cock.

I scream. Loud. Raw. Mingyu watches lazily, stroking himself. “You wanted inspiration, right?”

No answer. I’m too far gone.

The pace picks up. The wet slap of hips, the obscene sound of their cocks rubbing inside me, the feeling of being stretched to my limit—it rips me open. Juices pouring, thighs shaking, everything soaked. I’m clamping down on them, trying to trap them inside.

“Gonna cum,” Hoshi pants. “Gonna cum inside her—”

“Not yet,” Dokyeom growls. “Make her squirt first.”

They fuck me harder. My body locks up. Nerve endings burning. And then—boom. Another jet sprays out, harder than the last. Splattering everything. My scream’s already half dead, but I make some sound. I can’t even tell what. They don’t stop. They hold me down. Ride me through it, through the aftershocks, until I feel their own groans building.

“Fuck fuck fuck—cumming—”

“Me too—take it—take all of it—”

They slam in together one last time. Their cocks pulse, spilling thick, hot cum inside me, so much it leaks out immediately, white rivulets dripping down my legs. They stay buried for a moment, twitching, before they finally pull out. I collapse, limp, stretched open, cum pouring out.

And then—Mingyu leans close, presses a kiss to my cheek, and murmurs with a smirk—

“Ready for round two?”

[yaut-jaknowit]

Could you do a male reader who's a gardener and often uses a cane to get around due to a disorder where they struggle to walk? And found a injured male Yautja (not picky with who, I love all of those silly bois) and end up taking care of the once injured Yauja. And maybe they fall in love? (Your choice to make it nsfw or not, I'm fine with either,) I really enjoy your writing, and I hope you have a great day/night!!

Stumble To A Fall

Pairings: Uihoy (Male Yautja) x AMAB!Reader

Word Count: 3107

Summary: You have your own little place in the city. A small backyard just big enough for plants and flowers to grow. A little peace of heaven in your backyard. It's beautiful. As the day is coming to an end, you go to your shed to put away your tools... only to find a wounded creature inside.

Author Note: I'm gonna be honest, I was a bit unsure about writing about a disability or disorder. But, I did tweak it a little so I didn't feel like pushing any boundaries. Enjoy!

Masterlist

Ao3

Spring was in full swing. Birds chirped beautiful melodies. Flowers galore bloomed in the flower pots and plots you’ve planted around the house. The street was gloomy besides the recently, newly painted house you live in. A bright smile graced your features as you tended to the tomatoes; pulling any dead flowers off or tomatoes that were either ripe or have grown past their picking date.

A random tune hummed from your vocal cords. You deemed this planet freshened up before carefully picking yourself up with the help of your cane. Two steps to the left. Then, you gingerly lowered yourself down to a knee while the other leg stood straight out. The nerves in it have been shot for a long time since a near fatal car accident when you were young. This is how you lived now.

Once this plant had been thoroughly plucked through, you returned to a standing position and stretched out your back. Multiple joints along your spine popped with the move. A satisfied groan fell from your lips before you turned and strolled over to the shed.

Other items were pulled out. The tools you had currently used were placed back in their respectful spots. You returned back to garden with a hose and some bug killer treats. Anything to kill the stupid slugs trying to consume your cucumbers and pumpkins. You didn’t know why they had such a problem with those!

It irritated you to no end. It’s as if they knew. The little buggers had to know and came in large grooves, trying to kill off your plants one by one. You have been struggling for a while to get a hand on them. From soft deterrents to now what you consider was extreme. Pesticide. It’s not that you wanted to kill the insects, but they were destroying everything in their path. Your precious plants.

The sun was falling in the sky by the time you finished up spraying the pesticide. Next, you began to water any thirsty planets. Any spots you missed along the way, you tidied up and ensured your garden was in tip top shape by the time you made your way back to the shed. The hose was rolled up and hung from its holder next to the shed door. Before ending the day, you closed and locked the shed door. Then, you headed inside to prep dinner.

Songs poured from the old radio sitting on the counter. The oven was firing away at a lovely roast you were cooking up. You hummed along to the beat and set up the dining table with a drink, utensils, and condiments. Other snacks like vegetables were placed on the table as well.

As the last of the items were put on the table, you happened to glance out the window that faced your backyard. You did a double take. The sun had fallen below the horizon and left little light to fill the sky. It was dark enough to notice a trail of bright green splotches to mar your stone pathway. All the way to shed. Its door was slightly cracked open.

You remember locking it.

A hard lump grew in your throat. Your heart began to thunder in your ears, pounding against its bony cage. If someone was trying to steal your tools… The thought broke your heart. All your hard work, months of saving for everything you had. You gritted your teeth and snatched up your cane.

By the front door, you picked up a baseball bat and marched towards the back door. No one was stealing anything of yours. Not if you have anything to say about it.

The door was ripped nearly off its hinges as you raced out into the back yard. One hand gripping the bat while the other rapidly moved your cane to keep up. Pain raced up your bad leg, as if trying to slow you down. Yet, you used it fuel your rage for looters.

“Who the hell is in my shed?!” you shouted at the top of your lungs then reached the shed door. With the bat, you used it to pushed the door open. Then, you held the bat up, ready to wield it on the poor soul who dares to break in.

The lack of light makes you blind everything besides the neon green substance that stained the inside of the area. You squinted and leaned forward, as if that would help you. Then, you saw two bright yellow eyes peering at you from the darkness. Glowing almost as bright as the green stuff.

A gasp tears at your throat. In a panic, you stumble backwards. The heel of your good foot catches on the ledge of a stone brick. With a surprised cry, you land on your butt hard. You hissed and clutched the bat and cane tightly in your hands.

Pain surged up the length of your spine. You squint through the agony to see the eyes growing taller and taller. You make a noise of surprise before trying to scramble away. Only for a large, dark hand to wrap around the ankle of your bad leg. A hiss sounds from lips when that pulled on your damaged nerves.

Fear crawled up the back of your throat as you saw this humanoid figure step out into the full moon light. It’s bright, vibrant eyes pinned on your trembling form. It easily towered over you with a fierce look that filled its gaze. You felt your heart lodge its way into your throat as you could only lay on the stone path, trembling.

Neon green fluid leaked down its powerful frame. Muscles corded its strong body. You pushed down the lump and finally took in a breath.

Both the bat and cane were dropped off to the sides. Its gaze jumped to each item at they fell away from your body. The tension that gripped its entire frame slightly eased away. That didn’t make it move away from you. It continued to stare down at you, sizing you up like a predator would do to its prey.

“U-uh, um… What, what are you?” you sputtered out, unable to look away from it. It captured your entire attention. Nothing could draw you away from its powerful gaze. It looked to be thinking. Was it weighing if it was reasonable to kill you? It looked like it could easily do that.

With the limited light offered to you by the moon, you were finally able to notice the details of its… inhuman features. Mandibles tipped with sharp, white fangs that looked like they could pull your jugular out twitched when you spoke. Four them covered its mouth with more teeth. There was nothing you could do to stop it if it wanted to attack you.

After a long time, you finally realize the green liquid dripping down its body was its blood. Clearly, whatever it was, wasn’t from here. Not from earth.

“You’re injured,” you stated the facts as if it didn’t know of its own situation. One of its upper mandibles twitched. “I have supplies. I can help you.” Does the alien even understand you? You were using a soft voice like you would do to a scared animal. “I don’t mean harm.”

The unknown creature snorted. It was a very human reaction. But it understood you! Possibly. You think.

“Please?”

Its shoulders sagged. The weight of its decision finally rolling off of them. You took it as a sign to unsteadily get back to your feet with the help of your cane. The creature’s bright eyes quickly snapped to the wooden stick in your hand. “It’s not a weapon. I have to have it to walk,” you explained to it and timidly demonstrated its use to the creature.

Once it deems you safe enough to continue, you slowly lead it into the safety of your dwelling. It pauses at the entrance, eyes dancing this way and that before stepping in. A very cautious being, you internally noted.

Despite its large feet, it stepped behind you on the hardwood floor was silent. If it wasn’t for the fact that you knew it was there, you wouldn’t have known at all. Not even its heavy presence that seemed to consume the entire space of your house.

You lead it to the bathroom where a first aid kit was stowed underneath the cabinet. Its broad form takes up the entire doorway behind you as you placed the kit on the counter. A quick look from the corner of your eye has you darting your gaze back to the box. “Uh… you can have a set. On the tub edge.”

Now with light, you see its skin wasn’t skin. Scales. Lizard scales, soft by the looks of them. Said scales were a dull purple. Hints of moss green covered the sides of its body and the outer sides of its arms. Thick, grey tresses hung from its dome shaped head. The thing was powerful looking, terrifying in the least. And, you had now let it into your home.

Another snort escapes its inhuman mouth. It grabs the kit straight from your hands and walks back through the house, taking the same path. You scrambled to follow after it once getting over your shock.

“Where are you going?!” you asked in hurry as the figure stalked back through your house and into back yard once more. Your cane wobbled in your grip as you scrambled to keep up. Was it just going to take the kit and scurry off? You… you wanted to make sure it didn’t die at the very least. Nothing deserved to die.

It continued to move through your small back yard. Black, inky darkness washed over its broad frame. The shed became its new home. You stood there, panting slight as you watch it close the door in your door.

Stunned, you gingerly turned around and moped back to the kitchen, confused about this whole situation. The roast was pulled from the oven pipping hot. The smell filled the small space and brought your spirit back up. As you plated some food, you couldn’t help but think back to what just happened. Did it just happen? Or did you just imagine it?

Another plate was filled with some roast, bread, and vegetables. You carried it out to the shed and lightly knocked on the door. All you could hear was the soft rustling inside.

“Hey… um, I brought you some food if you’re hungry?” A few seconds of silence passed. With a sigh, you set down the plate before the door before returning to the kitchen. Maybe in the morning you’ll find out if you’re crazy or not. You gazed out of the kitchen window and saw the plate still there. A slight ache pained your heart. You had hoped maybe it had grabbed it.

You sat down at the dinner table and had your meal. Your phone set off to the side as you scrolled randomly through social media. It wasn’t long before you finished up and returned to the kitchen. You began to clean up the meal and randomly glanced out the window.

A small smile broke across your features. The plate had disappeared from in front of the shed door.

This had become a daily occurrence.

Everyday, when you were home, you would make a second plate. A jug of water set out with the food. When he would finish off the jug, he’d set the jug out with an empty plate. You go out to pick lunch’s plate and set down dinner and a new, fresh water for him. A simple two knock on the shed door to let him know it was ready for him.

As you turned your back towards the shed, a familiar creak behind you made you pause mid step. All of your muscles froze. You didn’t dare to turn around and face him. That may scare him off, back into the darkness of the shed. A lump grew in your throat as you just stood there, waiting for him to retreat back into the safety of his new home. But, the door doesn’t close afterwards. Not in a timely manner. You timidly turned around with the help of your cane and see a wall of muscles standing there. You had to close off your throat to stop a yelp from sounding from you.

Purple scales covered the alien from head to toe. You couldn’t help but let your gaze roam over his form. “Uh… hi, um. W-what can you do for you?” you asked him in a quiet voice and kept your gaze anywhere besides his eyes. You could feel them piercing your skin.

A deep grumble came from his chest. A chest so close that you felt the vibrations without touching him. “Look… up,” he orders and demands your attention. Your muscles tensed up at his words. The lump in your throat was forced down before you tilted your head up. Slowly, you met his intense gaze and felt like a deer in headlights. Standing before a creature that had the chance to kill you. Easily.

“Shower. Bathe.” Oh! You perked up and dipped your head.

“That’s what you wanted?” From this position, you weren’t able to see his injuries. White gauze covered where he must be hurt though. It had been a week since he first showed up. “Yeah, just-just follow me.” You carefully turned around with your cane and slowly made your way back into the house. The purple alien followed after you like a shadow.

Through the halls of your small home, you lead him to the only bathroom. Each doorway he had to go through, the beast had to duck to fit. The height difference only becoming more apparent with him so close. You stopped in front of the bathroom door and motioned towards it. “Well, here you go. I probably don’t have any clothes that fit you unfortunately.”

None of your clothing will be able to fit his size. He gazed down at you then glanced towards the bathroom. “No issue.” Then, he moves around you and into the bathroom, ducking down. The door closes behind him. You stand there while looking at the door for a few seconds, gathering you feeling about this whole situation. Then, you decided to head to the living room and wait for him. Just encase he may need something from you.

The T.V played something random as you watched a show. You weren’t even paying much attention to it. You had become too drawn into your own thoughts. All revolving around the alien who was currently taking a shower… in your apartment. What has your life become? That reminds you, you don’t know his name.

Where did he come from? How far away from home is he? What’s his life like? Oh, god. What had hurt him? That’s a question that you needed to ask him. What in the world could hurt a beast like him? Was there another creature like him out there? Here on earth with him. Why did they attack each other?

And would they come back?

It wasn’t the click of a door or the footsteps that alerted you to someone approaching you. A figure stood in front of the T.V. The sight finally drawing you out of your thoughts. You refocused your vision on the purple form standing before you. Only to slap a hand over your face with a loud gasp.

“You’re naked!” you screeched and kept your hand over your eyes. The soft footfalls of the creature announced he grew closer. Heat flushed to your cheeks. Yeah, you didn’t have any clothes for him but… you weren’t expecting him to coming out naked. At least a towel until you could wash his clothes or something!

“Yes,” is his simple answer. Though, he did seem to struggle with English though. “What the problem?” There was clearly a difference between the two cultures at that. You timidly lowered your hand and glanced at him. Your eyes flickering back to the ground and him a few times. Seeing things you… weren’t expecting.

One being the fact there wasn’t anything between his legs. Your eyes snapped back to him only realize how insensitive that was and looked back to the ground. “Humans… humans don’t walk around naked. It’s seen as-it’s just bad.” You didn’t know how to explain it to him. It’s just is. You were raised to see nakedness outside of intimacy as wrong. Clearly, his kind didn’t have that.

All you got in return was a grunt.

You cleared your throat and found his stunning, yellow eyes. “I’ve been meaning to ask: what’s your name?” After a week, you feel like you should know it by now. If he’ll let you.

His piercing gaze studied you thoroughly. It felt like he was looking directly into your soul, trying to figure out if you deserved to know. He must have found what he was looking for.

“Uihoy.” The first thought was how alien it was. It wasn’t a name that would easily roll off your tongue. You tilted your head to the side, brow furrowed. One his upper mandibles quirked up into a human-like smirk. He read the look on your face like an open book.

“I will… learn how to say that,” you told him. “As for clothing, why don’t you give me the dirty ones and I can clean them for you.” A minute pause as your eyes scanned over him. “So, you’re not naked anymore. For the time being, do you mind wearing a towel? I feel rude each time I accidently glance at you.” After the third time, you don’t know if you could call it an accident then. You realize your actions and flushed deeply afterwards.

In an instant, you got off of the couch and slipped past him. “Don’t worry! I’ll just grab them myself.” He lets you go without much of a complaint and watches you though. Uihoy takes a seat on the couch you once sat at, arms spread out across the back of the couch. You were quick to grab the brown shorts he had been wearing and scrambled to the laundry room.

Once in the safety of the room, you leaned against the washing machine and placed a hand over your mouth. What is wrong with you?! With a few deep breaths, you threw the piece of cloth in the washing machine and started it. One last calming breath. You left the laundry room. You couldn’t hide in here forever.

[mayday2007]

I feel like Daryl was such a mommy's boy when he was growing up.

Like, imagine 7-8 year old Daryl, in his backyard playing with bugs. He finds a really pretty looking bug that he knows his mama will like, so he gently scoops it up into his hands and starts running into the house to go show his mama.

He has to be silent, because he doesn't know if his father is still awake or not. He creeps into his house to find his dad passed out on the couch. Then, he walks over to his parents bedroom and stands outside. He knocks quietly, eagerly waiting for an answer. When nobody says "come in", he knocks a little harder, hoping to be heard this time.

When he does, Daryl cringes slightly as his father stirred on the couch, but stayed asleep.

"Come in." His mother says, and Daryl opened the door, went inside and slowly closed it again. His mother is sat in her ratty old chair in the corner, smoking a cigarette. She smiles when she sees her youngest son, patting her lap for Daryl to sit on.

Daryl runs eagerly over to her, clambering onto his mother's lap as she took one final drag of her cigarette before putting it out in the ashtray beside her. "What've ya got there, bug?" Daryl's mother asked him, her soothing voice making him feel at ease as she ran her free hand up and down his back in soothing motions.

"I found a bug, mama. A real pretty lookin' one, too." Daryl said with a sweet smile, opening his hands up to show his mother the iridescent purple big in his hand. His mother gasps, leaning down to stroke a finger lightly along the back of the bug, seemingly in awe.

"It is real pretty, baby." She said, wrapping her arms around her little boy. Daryl snuggled into his mother's warmth, inhaling as deeply as his little lungs would allow him. His mother's scent always made him feel calm, he could notice the faint smell of her shampoo, and her perfume, the fabric conditioner she used on her clothes and the faint smell of cigarettes.

His mother was his home. So, when he was walking back to his house after school the following day and saw a cloud of black smoke coming from his street, he instantly thought the worst. He ran home as fast as his little legs would carry him, but he suddenly stopped.

There were fire trucks all around, an ambulance and a few police cars. His house was charred, black. He scanned the area for his mama, not seeing her anywhere. He found his father, but he was the last person Daryl wanted to be around. Then, he looked around for his big brother, Merle.

He found Merle around the back of their house, having snuck carefully past the police people. As Daryl approached him, he could hear Merle sniffling. He got closer to Merle, crouching down beside him, putting his small hand on his brother's shoulder. "Why're ya cryin', big brother?" Daryl asked him, his poor little heart seconds from being torn apart if Merle told Daryl what he feared was true.

"She's gone, Daryl." Merle said, looking up at his brother, his eyes bloodshot and his red cheeks stained with tears. Daryl began to choke up as well, his breathing quickened and he ran away from his now burnt house, running as far and as fast as his legs would take him.

He ran for what felt like forever. He ran until the burning pain in his legs, his chest and his eyes became too much to bear. He ran into a field with a tree at the end, collapsing underneath it as he caught his breath, breathing fast as hot tears made their way down his chubby cheeks.

Daryl screamed and cried his little heart out that day, something he never ever did again.

[fashionteahouse]

Can you make a scenario where reader is popular ( like Mikaela from transformers) and embry has huge crush on her before the shifting. his friends tries to convince him to talk to reader but he thinks she’s out of his league. After the transformation he imprints on her but scared to talk to her until he saw her breaking with her bf. She notices him for so long but never got the chance to talk to him. She tells him she loved his long hair. Etc. please sorrry if it’s super long lol

no no it’s okay! i can do this 💜 hope you enjoy :)

forget it - embry x reader

That’s all he could do, follow his eyes as you walk the halls with your boyfriend. Embry’s hand was frozen on the lock part of his locker but his eyes willingly stayed frozen on her.

You didn’t know you were the main star in his dreams. The reason why he couldn’t wait to sleep at night. That’s the only time you could speak to him and ignite that warm feeling that he was feeling in his belly.

He feels a nudge once you’re almost out of eye sight, he turns to find Jacob next to Embry’s locker.

“Just talk to her.” he says, shrugging as if it’s no big deal.

He just shakes his head and turns his attention back to unlocking his locker, “I can’t.”

“Why not? Just say hi.”

“Why, so she could run off? A girl like her isn’t going to give a guy like me the time of day.” Embry explains. He, himself believed the words that were coming out of his mouth.

”Just come to the football game tonight. Her boyfriend will be on the field and you have a window of opportunity.” he tells his shy friend.

Embry is sticking to his guns, “Forget it.”

What really made Embry admire you, was the perfect, equal balance of your brains and beauty. He couldn’t help but daydream as your hand raise and answer the teacher’s question with ease.

The bell ringing was the only thing that brought him back to reality. He scooped up his notebook and worksheets and makes it to his next class.

Walking out of the school lot, he sees you as your boyfriend has an arm around you. You both were leaning against his car and Embry didn’t know if he was imagining your bored face. You let your eyes wander and find his. You give him a small smile. He must’ve stared too long because your boyfriend’s eyes meet Embry’s.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” he says and this boils Embry’s blood. Embry took a step forward in his direction but Jacob and Quil lead him away. You turn to your boyfriend, “Why are you being an ass?” you say to him. You felt sorry and gave Embry an apologetic look.

Embry was still fuming. “I need to be alone.” he tells his friends as they reach his house. He was slightly shaking and Quil looks down at his friend’s hands, “Alright man..I’ll text you later.” he says to him, backing off.

Embry doesn’t say anything but closes his front door. He felt hot. He felt like he wanted to strip. Sure he was mad at your boyfriend for trying to call him out, but he was unbelievably angry.

He went to his backyard, hoping the breeze would cool him down. But it didn’t work. He screams at the sky when it felt like his bones were breaking. It felt like he was on fire. Next thing he knows, shreds of clothing fall down on him like snow.

He sat in the hard chair, listening to the swish of the scissors, watching the chops of fallen hair land on his lap and onto the ground.

Embry stared at the mirror. He almost didn’t recognize himself. He had plans on just allowing his shoulder length hair to grow. Things changed. He changed. He didn’t even look like the boy he saw in the mirror, earlier that morning.

He had his first patrol that night. Protecting the people that walked the streets that had no idea of the danger that lurked. They were oblivious.

After seeing no threat, Sam let him off. He sneaked back to his home, not wanting to explain to his mother why he came in without shoes or shirt.

He took a shower and it wasn’t until he sat on his bed, noticing that the food he ate earlier at Emily’s was long digested. His stomach started shake with hunger.

Making himself look like a sane human with the right amount of clothes, he walked to the convenience store that wasn’t too far. The walk allowed him to think.

As he was counting the stars, he heard some shouting. He looked ahead and saw a car door opened and a girl bent over.

“Go fuck yourself! We’re over!” the girl’s voice says and slams the car door and stomps into the store. The car peels off dramatically and Embry watches it drive off before pulling open the door.

Embry says hello to the owner and walks to a section that looks appetizing for him.

He hears a freezer door slam shut and he looks up to see that the girl who came in was you. He felt his heart pound out of his chest. Before he could look away, your eyes found his.

Nothing else in the world mattered. Not even the snack he was eying. Everything, but you, was forgotten to him. You give him a smile, happy to see a friendly face. You both were free from friends, especially your boyfriend who was in your face most of the time. He seemed to almost move too fast before you could get to know him.

“Hey, you.” you greet to him and give him a small wave. Embry couldn’t speak, opting for a wave back. You head to the counter with your drink and pull your money out but Embry speaks out, “It’s alright. I got it.” He places his things on the counter and pays for everything.

“Thank you.” you tell him with a smile.

“You’re welcome.” he says, it took almost everything in him not to get lost from the brightness of it. Embry holds the door open as you walk out and wait for him.

“Embry, you cut your hair?” you ask him.

He was shocked. He wanted to ask how you knew his name. Yes, you both went to the same school and shared a class but he wouldn’t have bet his life on you knowing it. He was even more shrouded in the feeling of happiness that you noticed the new change in his appearance.

“Yeah.” he says sheepishly and reaches his hand to feel his hair.

You playfully pout a bit, “I loved your long hair.”

He didn’t know how to feel. He thought he was dreaming. He had to have been dreaming. Even though he couldn’t speak to Jacob and Quil at the moment, he was convinced that they would never believe this moment even transpired.

“Thanks.” Embry whispers.

You smile and sit on the curb and pull out your phone to see if you can get a ride. As if Embry could read your mind, he says to you, “I can walk you home. It’s pretty dark out here.”

You smile again and rise up with the help of his warm hand. He tries to quickly let it go, not knowing if you’re comfortable with the fact.

“Do you mind if I hold it? You’re so warm.” you confess to him.

Embry just nods as he looks down and lets your fingers interlace with his. He couldn’t help but smile himself, knowing how perfect your hand looked in his.

[lewisvinga]

venice bitch | charles leclerc x fem! reader

summary; snippets of charles’s love for y/n that makes her forever grateful he is hers.

warnings; ?

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs

word count; 674

notes; requested ! tbh i struggled to decide to make this angst or fluff but k made it fluff😭😭 n i also couldn’t figure out how to incorporate the exact words ‘venice bitch’, so this lowk could’ve been better im sorry🤒🤒

masterlist !

“I swear you’re like an ice cream ice queen,” Charles says in between laughs as Y/n drags him down the streets of Venice to a local gelato shop. She playfully rolls her eyes as he opens the door for her.

“Like you’re one to complain. I know you like to kiss me after I eat gelato!” She exclaimed, glancing back at him with a smile and getting in line.

He holds his hands up in defense. “You’re just so sweet for me when I kiss you!” He replies, watching her order gelato. “The strawberry flavor makes your kisses taste sweet.” He whispers in her ear as she orders that exact flavor.

“You’re something else, Charles Leclerc.”

“But you love it.”

She rolls her eyes once again with a smile lingering on her lips. Once she made it to the register, she didn’t even notice that he already had his card out and was ready to swipe.

By the time Y/n opened her bag, Charles already swiped his card. The realization made her let out a gasp. “Charles! I said I’d pay.”

“No can do, honey.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

“Got the fire started!” Charles calls out from the backyard, adjusting the seats around the bonfire he had started. Y/n was out in the front yard tending to her plants before rushing to the backyard.

He had set out the ingredients needed to make s’mores, and when she noticed, she gasped. He pats the spot beside him, “Got a special seat for you here.”

“Cha’” She whispers, sitting down next to him. “You’re amazing.”

“Anything for my honey.” He kissed her head gently before grabbing the ingredients along with the bamboo sticks for the marshmallow.

They spend hours by the bonfire as the summer fades away and slowly ends. The scene felt like it was out of a hallmark. It was something that Y/n had always dreamt of. It was always the same one dream, one life, and one lover.

And she couldn’t have wished for a better man.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

“No peeking yet!” Charles exclaims, making sure to not mess up her makeup while keeping his hands over her eyes. He carefully leads her into their shared home in Monaco. They had just returned from a 5th anniversary dinner and Y/n returned with a special stone on her ring finger.

“Charles, you have another surprise? I’ll mess up my makeup even more!” She whined, her fingers playing with the diamond engagement ring. “Besides, this diamond is enough to keep me satisfied with surprises for the next few months.”

“Amour, we both know that’s a lie.” Charles chuckled, “You love your diamonds.” He added, gesturing at the diamond necklace and earrings she wore even though she couldn’t see him.

“What can I say? Me, myself, I like diamonds. Diamonds are a girl's best friend.”

“Okay, ready?”

“To cry more? Yes.”

The Ferrari driver couldn’t hold back his laugh as he slowly removed his hands. Y/n opens her eyes and gasps as she sees the scene. Her closest friends and her family were standing in their very decorated backyard. There were white flowers everywhere, and there was a table with a cake set up that had the words ‘Just Engaged!’ written on top. He invited the people closest to her and him to celebrate their engagement.

“You did not…” She says, still in shock, and turns around. Tears filled her eyes as she threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “You’re too good for me, Cha’.” She cried in his arms.

“My best girl deserves the world,” Charles whispers, caressing her cheek in his hands. He leaned down to place a gentle kiss on her lips, smiling as their family and friends cheered for the newly engaged. “I love you, mon amour.”

“And I love you, honey,” Y/n whispers back, staring at him with nothing but love and adoration in her eyes. “Truthfully, if you weren’t mine, I’d be jealous of your love.” She adds, leaning in and giving him another of many kisses as a newly engaged couple.

[toxicanonymity]

As ugly as he seems. Left in Lincoln pt. 6

8.4k words, dark dbf!Joel x virgin f!reader story master list / spotify playlist / joel master

You would've given anything for Joel to wake up and ravage you. “s’what I mean, baby,” he murmured sleepily into your hair. "Can't trust myself." He groaned softly as his palm brought you tighter against him. 

WARNINGS: I8+, grinding, light somnophilia, thigh fucking, fingering, oral f receiving, P in V just the tip, reader menstruates, angst, pet names and praise, toxic dark joel, pining, obsession, horror vibes. he's sweet with reader, but he is. . . unhinged. NO Y/N.

—---

You were back home in your room, lying in bed looking at the stain on the ceiling when it all became hazy.  You kept staring until your eyes watered and you could no longer see the spot at all.  The air was thick with smoke and dread.  There was shouting outside.  You went to your bedroom window and opened it. The night was dark, but a flickering glow illuminated the scene in your backyard.  The door to the spider shed was moving, flapping violently.  When it opened, Joel Miller emerged in a white tank top and jeans and an ax slung over his shoulder.  He stared at you but didn’t say a word or even nod.

He charged slowly but deliberately toward the house until he was out of sight and a loud crack downstairs told you he was swinging the ax.  At the other end of the house, the shouting outside intensified. As Joel continued axing down the door, you followed the shouting down the hall and looked out a window facing the front yard.  Bill and Frank were in the middle of the street fighting off infected who were crawling toward the house.  Bill was shooting at them. Frank was futilely trying to put the fire out with a hose.  

Frank saw you in the window and shouted, “STAY UPSTAIRS!”

The cracking at the door turned into splintering, then boots thudding up the stairs.  You ran into the hall just as Joel crested the top landing.  His biceps were smudged with ash but glistening and his hair was wild.  He lunged toward you and crouched down, wrapping his arms around you in a hug before hoisting you over his shoulder to carry you.  He carried you downstairs and to the kitchen where he unlocked the shredded back door.  Once you got outside, Joel didn’t stop.  He kept walking away from the house.  Not toward his house, not toward anywhere.  Over his shoulder, you could see the house shrink into the distance.  The shouting continued but faded as Joel carried you away.  Then, with a loud boom, the house was completely engulfed in flames.  

You tried to scream, tried to beg Joel to save your fathers, but you couldn’t make a noise. 

—------

You woke up at Joel’s house gasping for air and heard yourself making an awful noise, more like a murder of crows than anything human.  You sat up and took deep breaths. Frank’s note repeated in your head: We love you so much. Protect yourself. 

Within seconds, footsteps were ascending the stairs.  The bedroom door opened, and Joel rushed over with a look of panic on his face. He was in boxers and a tight, white t-shirt. 

He sat down and hugged your head to his chest.  “Shhhhhhh, I’ve got you….. You’re okay. . . . you’re okay.”  You felt safer in his big arms, but the dread wouldn’t leave you and you couldn’t slow your heart rate.  When you didn’t stop sniffling, he asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I had a nightmare”

“‘About what, darlin’?”

“Our house was on fire and it felt like everyone was gonna die.” 

He rubbed your back.  “We’re okay, the house is okay.” 

“I mean my family’s house.” 

“Oh,” he muttered and his hand paused for a moment. He kissed your head, then his hand resumed its slow circles on the bare skin above your nightgown. “Oh, darlin’.  That sounds like a real bad dream.” 

“It felt so real.”

“I know, honey.” He held you tight and planted a kiss on the crown of your head. 

You were so grateful to him for everything, but suddenly felt guilty about being at his house instead of yours. You told him, “I should be there taking care of things.  I’m doing a bad job.” 

But at the same time, going back there was the last thing you wanted. It was so scary, so lonely at your house before Joel came and saved you. It was terrifying to think about.  You had to go back, the dream ripped open something deep in the back of your mind, something you couldn’t even discern, but which compelled you.  You hoped Joel wouldn’t let you stay there alone. Of course he wouldn’t, you told yourself. 

“You’re safer here, darlin’.”

“I know,” you whispered. “But I’m worried.” 

He sighed.  “Okay, peaches,” His large hand squeezed your arm and he kissed your head again.  “We’ll go over there in the mornin’.  How’s that?” 

Relief washed over you at the sound of Joel’s offer. Finally the tension in between your shoulder blades began to release. “Thanks.” It was still the dead of night. 

Joel asked, “Got room for an old man?” He seemed hesitant to leave you alone.  Knowing he wouldn’t leave you finally helped your heart rate to begin to slow. 

You nodded and Joel slipped into your bed.  He put his big arm under your neck and hugged you from behind.  He nestled you into him as a little spoon and held you tight as you fell asleep.  Nowhere felt safer than Joel’s arms. 

—------------

When you woke up, it was still dark.  You had drifted slightly forward in the bed, and Joel’s embrace had loosened.  Needing to be closer to him, you scooted back into his chest.  He cupped your breast with a sigh, then curved his body against yours again. His breathing suggested he was still asleep. As he nestled his knees behind yours, the solid shape of his cock sent a shock of desire through you. Its shape and warmth were unmistakable, even though it was all new to you.  Your body certainly recognized it and began to prepare itself for what it wanted.  

You pushed your ass back against him and his body rewarded you with a twitch of his cock. He let out soft noise somewhere between a grunt and a whimper. You pushed back again, and his hips gently pushed forward.  You slowly moved your hand to grab the bottom hem of your nightgown and tug it down so your bare nipple would be against his hand.   As soon as the satin was out of the way, your nipple hardened against his palm and you caught a whimper in your chest before it had a voice.  Joel’s palm pressed against your breast, and he sighed as his manhood swelled harder against your ass.  

You would’ve given anything for Joel to wake up and ravage you, but you knew he wouldn’t.  For a minute, you tried to ignore it all. You focused on his breathing.  Even his breathing was masculine and protective.  You had almost fallen back asleep when he began to massage your breast, and his hips began to push his wood against you at a slow, regular rhythm through the thin barrier of his boxers.  Joel’s mouth was pressed into your hair and his body was actively cradling yours, no longer asleep.  You were throbbing and a warm pool was forming between your legs. 

You loosely tangled your fingers with Joel’s.  His lower body broke away, and for a moment you regretted your gesture, as if it had snapped him out of a sleepful indulgence.  But then his hips returned, and you gasped at the contact of his smooth, bare cock.  It rested warm and hard against you with the head nudging the top of your crack.  

“‘S’what I mean, baby,” he murmured sleepily into your hair.  “Can’t trust myself.” He groaned softly as his palm flattened your breast and the same arm pulled you tighter against him.  You began to reach behind you, but he intercepted your hand and held it against your chest instead.  His massive palm cradled your own hand gently around your breast then left it there while he pulled down your panties.  After taking them off, he wrapped his arm over you again.  

With one arm under your pillow, he backed up enough to get clearance for his ample morning wood.  He wedged his foot between your ankles to lift your leg ever so slightly, then nestled his cock between your thighs, right up against your throbbing seam.  

Joel groaned at your wetness as his erection slid forward between your thighs, and you gasped when the thick head of his cock came to rest at your clit.  

“Oh, darlin’,” he breathed. “I feel how bad you want it.” His arm flexed under your pillow. “Poor thing, all wet and swollen”

When you didn’t respond, he added “s’a good thing, baby.  This all for me?”

“Yeah,” you whispered. 

“God damn,” he sighed and dragged his cock back.  The crown stopped short of your entrance before reversing toward your clit again, and you whimpered. Your belly was warm and tingly. 

Joel’s hand lightly grazed your abdomen on its way to your mound, then rested there. His cock slid back, and two fingers took its place where your wetness pooled.  He swirled his finger gently and slowly. “‘s’perfect,” he whispered to himself.

He dipped his fingers halfway in and you gasped at the welcome stretch.  He brought the wetness to your clit and began to draw circles. With his fingers out of the way, his cock slid forward again, bypassing your tight, wet hole, which spasmed at the proximity. “Oh, baby,” he breathed into your hair.   “It’s too much to bear,” he groaned at a low, shaky pitch. Surely not compared to what he was doing to you.  

Just the thought of him inside you–the thought of him occupying your body–was enough to tug at your tear ducts.  Tears of need.  He slid his cock back, then forward again, and when the tip reached your clit, it also met his fingers. You were getting pressure from both directions, and the tension in your belly threatened to burst.  God, you wanted him, needed him. 

He thrust his hips up against your ass with a sigh, moving his cock a little further, deeper between your thighs, as his hips flattened the plush of your asscheeks. Ohh, he knew how to make you feel good. Further, then back. Deeper, then back. He rocked in small movements, and the wet friction with your clit drove you crazy. 

“Joel, please.” You pushed your ass back into him and your bodies moved in rhythm.  

“Mm hmm, love feelin’ ya, baby.” Joel drove his cock a little faster, and his breathing became more labored. 

“Me too,” you whimpered.  He rubbed your clit as he fucked your thighs.  

“I want it bad, baby. You feel that?”

“yea-I, it’s so, it’s so big.” 

“When I’m real big and hard, that’s for you, baby.” His thrusts intensified. His breath was heavy and warm against your ear.  “That’s all for you,” he whispered.  

“Yes,” you whined. 

He moved his hand back to your breast and you looked down.  You watched the head of his cock appear and disappear between them and felt a new rush of arousal. The head was swollen and darker than you’d remembered. 

Your spine arched and you whimpered, “Joel.”

He thrust hard with a grunt, laid his palm on your mound, and covered the head of his cock with his fingers as you began to pulse against him. He groaned with the throb of your climax and finally lost some composure. “God damn, I wanna fill you up.” 

Your body jerked against him.  “I, I– Joel-” 

“Just, oh God, stuff you full of me.” His breath was ragged.

“I–” What you wanted to say was, I need it, I need you to.  He kept thrusting between your slippery thighs, and kept you pulsing.  Your waves of pleasure echoed, smaller and farther apart.   

You pulled yourself together to ask, “Can, can I feel you come?”

“Wanna feel me come?” he panted as he fucked the warm, wet little pocket so close to where you wanted him. 

“Yeah,” you whispered as he continued to accelerate.  

“Yeah,” he repeated and kept thrusting. 

“Please,” you asked. 

“Go ‘head.” 

He moved his hand back to your breast, groping you slowly but hungrily as he made room for your hand. His arm held you still as he railed between your thighs.  “Oh, god damn,” he breathed into your hair as you cupped your hand around the tip of his cock. . “Oh, god-”  Then he shuddered -- When his cock pulsed between your legs, it was so big, so powerful, like it was trying to push your thighs apart.  A new wave of pleasure surged through you.  You gasped as his hot load filled your palm. His breath was ragged against your hair, his chest heaving against your back.  The warm, white spend kept coming, and coming.  You held your hand steady as best you could as your heat twitched against him and his balls emptied. 

You were both still and quiet, with his arm draped over you.  His cum was still in your hand, but you didn’t want him to move.  Once his cock began to soften, he slid it out from between your legs.  He whispered, “I love you, baby” and kissed you on the head before going to get you a washcloth.  Then you went to take a shower and he made the bed.  

—-----

After breakfast, Joel walked with you down the street to your house.  It felt like you were leaving a safe place.  The broken asphalt was littered with debris from the storm, but it felt less spooky than when the two of you made the opposite walk, from your house to Joel’s.   As your house came into view, you felt relieved that it looked intact, but guilty for leaving it unattended. Irrational as it was, you were also fearful, as if the house might be decaying from the inside out.   The closer you got, the more you knew the terrible dream hadn’t faded from your mind.  The mood of your nightmare followed you and made you envision the worst. You imagined the insides of the house gutted from a fire.  Tall, black sheets, pieces of your life peeling off the walls.  You imagined the insides grown over with weeds and mold.  Then infected. 

The dream made you see Frank’s note differently. Cautionary.  It even made you see Joel differently.  He saved you in the dream, but something felt wrong.  He saved you, you kept reminding yourself.  He saved you from the fire.  

You knew these feelings would fade, but Joel could tell you were unsettled.  He stopped you when you were coming up to your house.  “You okay, darlin’?” Only then did you realize you had tears in your eyes.  

“Y-yeah,” you stammered. 

“C’mere, baby, I know it was scary.”  He wrapped you in a hug.  “Everything’s fine, you’ll see.” 

Joel peeked his head inside the front door and gave the all-clear, then he checked the gardens while you went inside.  You went to Bill and Frank’s room to make sure everything was okay and ready for them to come back.  It was silly, but you checked under the bed, and behind the shower curtain, and even in the closet, looking for anything bad. Something lurking, growing, falling apart.  You felt like there must be evidence of your neglect somewhere but you couldn’t find it.   

While you were in their closet, a gray metal box caught your eye.  You weren’t looking for it, but you were familiar with it.  When you saw it, you had a strong impulse to take what was in it, lest a fire or horde of infected take it.  It had been years since you opened the box, but it was just as it was.  Your biological father’s wedding ring, a custom knife from your mother, and a loaded gun. You hesitated, then heard Frank’s words again: Protect yourself. You took a messenger bag of Frank’s off the closet shelf and nestled the objects in a zippered compartment.

—- 

While Joel was still outside, you went upstairs and packed a few articles of clothing, an extra pair of shoes, and a book in the bag. You wondered if you should plan to stay in your own house again. Joel could stay there, too. It felt foregone that you and Joel would stay together, wherever you were, and thank God.

When you came downstairs from your room, you sat on the sofa.  You recalled the first time Joel came over and comforted you right there. The rush you felt when he first embraced you and the aching throb when you felt him get hard. None of that had changed. You still felt it every time. The only thing that had changed was you. A void had opened up inside of you that only he could fill. 

When Joel came back inside, he stopped at the threshold of the living room and looked at you sitting on the sofa. He put his hands behind his back, jutted his chest forward and stretched without taking his eyes off you. 

He asked, “Ya miss it?” It was a casual enough question, the way he said it. 

“Kinda,” you said.  “But I feel at home when I’m with you.” 

His face became serious and he stopped mid-stretch.  He dropped his hands to his sides and his brows knitted as he approached.  He sat down and put his arm around you.  “You dunno how glad I am to hear that.” 

You nodded, and when you looked up at him, his eyes were softer than you’d ever seen them. A new, gentler shade of brown.  He took your cheeks in his hands and kissed you deeply.  

“Need anything else before we go home?” Joel asked. 

“Nah.”  You picked up the messenger bag and saw Joel eyeing it.  

You thought he might ask what was in it, but all he said was, “Neat bag,” and for some reason, you were relieved.  

You trusted Joel completely but felt better when you were also “being smart,” as Bill would say.  A person can only count on themself, you were taught.  You got the sense Joel would like for you to leave everything to him, but he was only human. You had to protect yourself, too.  

—---

On the way back to Joel’s house, there seemed to be something on his mind.  “Look, peaches,” he started. “I’m sorry ‘bout this mornin’, in bed . . .” This ignited an unexpected flicker of anger in you.  What did he need to be sorry about? 

“Why?” you asked.

“Uh. . .”

“I wish you wouldn’t be sorry,” you added earnestly.

“Well, I’m sorry anyway.” 

Incredulous, you asked, “What part do you regret?”

“No, baby, no, no, no.” He stopped walking and took your hands in his. “Nothin’ to regret.  I just–I felt like I almost lost control.” 

You scoffed. “I wish you would’ve.” 

He squeezed your hands. “I want everything to be special for you.  I’m not gonna catch you off guard like that.” 

You asked, “You’re gonna tell me when, then?” 

“We’ll decide together.” Right. Whatever. 

It put you in a bad mood, so you started walking again, kicked a stick in the road, and changed the subject. 

—-----

That night, over dinner, you asked, “How’s Tommy?” When Joel got back from the QZ, you had been so focused on Frank that you forgot to ask. 

“Didn’t catch him,” Joel said. 

“Oh, sorry.” After eating another bite, you asked, “Why doesn’t he ever come visit?”

Joel finished chewing and said, “I reckon Maria and the kids keep’m busy.”

“I don’t even remember what he looks like.”

“What are you talkin’ ‘bout? He looks like me, younger, less handsome.”  Joel winked at you.  Then he went to a kitchen drawer to get a leather wallet.  He took out a worn, faded photograph of the two of them and handed it to you.  They looked so young. They were both in work shirts and hard hats. Joel was strikingly handsome, but nothing compared to now. He looked happy, but you preferred his weathered scowl. Tommy looked shy compared to Joel.  Tommy’s hair was longer and his arms were crossed, while Joel had an arm around Tommy’s shoulder.

You nodded, “a lot less handsome.” and Joel laughed. “But only because you’re that good looking,” you added. “I still don’t get why they don’t just move here,” you said. Joel had told you before: The farm life wasn’t for everybody.  But from what Joel said about the QZ, that idea didn’t make much sense to you. If the QZ was so bad, why would anyone prefer it to Lincoln? And if the QZ wasn’t so bad, why were you never allowed to visit it?

Joel was quiet, and there was something about the quiet that unsettled you. 

It came out of your mouth before you registered the thought. “Is he alive?” 

“What? Tommy?” Joel’s face changed completely. “What kind of question is that? He looked at you like you were crazy.  "‘Course he’s alive. Bill's stayin' with'm.” 

You weren't even sure why you asked. “Sorry.”

Joel's face softened.  "No, no, I'm sorry, darlin'." He put down his fork.  “Truth is, I wish he would visit. But I don’t think he much likes seein’ me.”

“Why? You’re brothers.”

“I reckon it brings back bad memories.”

“Like what?”

Joel sat back in his chair and rubbed one side of his beard. “Things we did. . . Things I did." He shook his head and looked at the ceiling. Quieter, he added, “things I’ve done.”

You were quiet for a minute.  You knew the answer, but you still asked, “Bad things? Like killing people?”

“Necessary things.” He nodded to himself.

“But you only killed bad people, right?”

Joel crossed his arms and his legs. “I don’t wanna scare ya, darlin’.”  

“Please tell me, I wanna know all of you.”

He shook his head. 

“Not just bad people,” you whispered in conclusion.

He swallowed, then looked at the table as he softly admitted, “Anyone who was in the way.” He didn’t look at you for a few seconds, then cautiously, his eyes began to rise to meet yours. “I would never, ever hurt you, darlin’. You’re the last person in the world I would–”

“I know,” you cut him off and took his hand. 

His brows knitted as he searched your face. 

"Darlin', the outbreak, it changed people. It's not somethin' ya can leave out there, either. If you knew what the world was like. . ." he trailed off.

You didn't talk for a few minutes, and in that time, something came over you.  You didn’t know what the world was like.  You heard that more times than you could count growing up.  You were sick of not knowing.  You might have been the only person left in the world who didn’t know. This was your chance, with Bill gone, if Joel could just take you out, even for a few hours one day.  

Joel kept looking at your face as if he was trying to read your mind.  Then you broke the silence: "Show me." 

Joel looked over his shoulder toward the orchard. "Show – show you?" He swallowed. 

"You said if I knew what the world was like. Show me. Take me out there. Just for a day."  

He shook his head and looked down like there was no possible way, like it was such a definite no, it wasn’t even worth the energy of convincing you. 

You insisted, "I know you can protect me." If anyone could protect you, Joel could. 

"Peaches–"

"Take me out.  Or you're gonna keep saying that for the rest of our lives, I just know it. That I don't know what it's like. Everyone says that."

"What did you just say?"

"Please, Joel, give me a chance, I know you can protect me." 

"The rest of our lives," he repeated, marveling at your words, ignoring your point. 

You swallowed and your cheeks burned. 

He nodded, "That's right, baby." 

—----

After dinner, Joel did some work outside and you stewed–about him holding out on you sexually, about him not wanting to ever take you out into the world.  That night, all you did was kiss on the sofa and listen to his whispers about the rest of your lives.  Once the kisses heated up and he hardened against your thigh, you said you didn’t feel well.  If he wasn’t going to give you what you wanted, you didn’t want him getting you all riled up. When you said you didn’t feel well, Joel didn’t ask any questions aside from what you needed and how he could help. 

When you went to bed, you thought about what he said.  Things I’ve done. You thought about the Red Sox caps.  And you slipped back into your fairy tale where he had done the worst things just to have you. It shouldn’t have made you feel better, but it did.  It made you feel better, not worse.  You knew in your gut Joel wanted you, and once you finally put your bodies together, you knew there would be no taking them apart. 

—----------------------

The next day, you really did feel crummy.  You went to the bathroom and found out why.  You got your period.  You had everything you needed – Joel had stocked your room really well, which made you emotional, and you felt bad for being mad at him. 

After dinner, Joel came in from working outside and found you curled up on the sofa. He came over with two glasses of water. 

“You okay, darlin’?”

“Yeah, I’m just tired.  I don’t feel that good.”

“What doesn't feel good?”

“I have cramps. I just feel pretty bad.  ”

He looked at you then sat down on the sofa.  “What can I do?”

“You’re sweet,” you said.  “Nothing you can do, though.”

“Well, mind if I join ya?”

You made room for him. Before he joined you on the sofa, he retrieved a plastic baggy from the kitchen and offered you a painkiller.  You accepted half of one. Before it had a chance to kick in, you whined wordlessly as you tried to get comfortable. 

“How ‘bout I run you a bath, darlin’?”

“Okay.”

“Bathtub’s nicer down here,” he said.  

You went to get your bathrobe from upstairs and curled up on his bed while his bathtub was filling up. When the water stopped, you walked into the bathroom. It was nice, like Bill and Frank’s.  The counter had two sinks.  The bathtub was separate from the shower.  It was a big garden tub nestled in its own nook in front of a window, with a ledge behind the end without the faucet.  

Joel was sitting on the ledge with his sleeves rolled up, checking the water for you. “See how that feels.”  

You dipped a toe in and nodded, then stood there for a moment until you realized he didn’t plan to leave. 

“Ah,” he put his hands on his knees to stand up.  “Lemme grab you a towel.”  

—

You were still a little shy to get completely nude in front of him, but you wanted him to see how far you’d come in trusting him and being comfortable. By now, you were confident in Joel’s genuine appreciation for your body and every part of you. 

You hung the robe on a hook on the wall, then stepped into the tub and sank into the water before he got back.  You felt less exposed that way.  

He put a stack of folded towels on the ledge behind the bath, then smoothed his hair with one hand.  You looked at him and admired his big, veiny hands and forearms.  

“How’s it feel?” he asked.  

“Better already,” you told him. 

“Good.”  His eyes sparkled as he admired your body through the water then met your gaze again.  “Want me to leave?”

You shook your head.  “No, but – do you have to be so. . .” you looked him up and down and his brows knitted in concern. “Dressed?”

His face relaxed, then he raised his eyebrows and pointed at himself.  “You want me undressed?”

You nodded and he began to unbutton his shirt. You didn’t watch the whole time, letting your eyes drift to the window.  In a way, watching someone undress or dress felt more intrusive than seeing them naked.  He stripped down to his boxers and undershirt, then neatly folded his shirt and jeans and set them on the bathroom counter. 

He asked,  “Better?”

“Yeah.”  

“Good,” he softly pinched your cheek. You wanted those strong arms around you more than anything, but you worried about your period. He was so neat and clean all the time that it was hard to imagine him willingly exposing himself to anyone else’s fluids.

“You could get in,” you offered. “Except for the blood,” you added apologetically. There was only a small diluted plume. 

He cracked a smile and looked at you with soft eyes.  “Blood don’t bother me, peaches,” he said. “Not one bit.” 

“Really?”  

“Not yours,” he clarified. 

“It’s not like regular blood, sometimes there-”

He interrupted softly,  “I know what a period is, darlin’. I’m almost sixty years old,” he chuckled. “Went to non-FEDRA school, too.” 

“Almost sixty?” It gave you a rush to hear and a rush to say. 

“If ya round up. That weird? Thought ya knew that, baby.” You knew he was in his late fifties. You celebrated his birthday at one of your last dinners. But somehow, hearing the number “sixty” was wild. 

“It’s not weird.”  You shook your head earnestly and suppressed a smile. It was flattering that Joel, with all that life experience, loved you. It was sexy, too. 

Joel sighed.  “So, am I cordially invited?” He eyed the water with a subtle smile, then he reached into the bath and gently caressed your lower abdomen.  “It’s natural, darlin’. It’s beautiful.” He gripped the side of the tub and leaned in for a kiss.  Then he pulled back and looked in your eyes.  “Every part of you is beautiful. I’m just sorry it hurts.”  

“Yeah,” you said. “Come on in.” 

—---------

He stood up and faced you, then took off his white t-shirt.  It was the first time you’d seen him shirtless in the daylight. He was weathered and tan.  Scarred and strong. Strong, but soft enough to be comfortable.  He dropped his boxers without shame.  You averted your gaze, but what you saw of him made you even more amazed at how big it could get.  You were flattered to have that effect.

You scooted forward to make room for Joel to get in behind you.  

“You want me there?” 

You wanted him everywhere, but you nodded.  He stepped into the tub behind you and braced himself on both sides as he moved his feet forward.  He settled in around you with a small splash, his thighs gently squeezing yours. He slid his huge hands under your arms to loosely embrace your torso then leaned back against the porcelain with a sigh, bringing you with him.  You could feel his soft package and hair against you. You tried to relax into him, and he kissed you on the head. 

He rested one of his hands on your lower belly.  “You know we got the other half’a that pill, too, if ya need it,” he muttered. 

“Thank you, Joel,” you said.  “For everything.” 

He planted another kiss on your head.  “It’s my privilege, darlin’.” 

He held you in silence, softly stroking your sides.  Soon enough, you really relaxed back into him.  You focused on the rise and fall of his chest under your back.  You felt so attached to him, so in love with him you could cry.  Suddenly, the idea of not having him wrapped around you at any point in your life made it hard to enjoy when he was. You knew you were emotional.

—---

Joel’s breathing became so slow and regular that you thought he fell asleep. You glanced back to check, and he was wide awake.  

“Thought you fell asleep,” you whispered.

“No, darlin’.”  He kissed you on the cheek, then you caught him looking at the water and you followed his eyes, looking for anything embarrassing he could have noticed.  

He used two fingers to nudge your face back to look at him.  “I love you,” he said, then kissed you on the lips.  He whispered, “I dunno if I can ever show ya how much, but I’ll try.” 

“I love you, too,” you said and felt your eyes gathering tears. 

Joel sat up a little, concerned.  “What’s wrong, baby.” 

“I just wanna be with you forever,” you whimpered.  

“Well that’s what we’re gonna do, baby.” 

“Yeah, but. . .” 

His heart rate sped up against your back. 

“What if we can’t?” you asked. 

He sighed and hugged you reassuringly.  “Told ya there’s nothin’ in this world that can stop us bein’ together.”  Your arms and his were crossed in front of you.  He held both your hands, and kissed you on the head again. 

—---------------------------

You were quiet for a minute, but still thinking.  You asked, “What about when Bill and Frank get back?” 

He took in a chest full of air, lifting you on his stomach.  He released your hands as he exhaled. “What about it, darlin’.” 

“What if they — I mean, I guess I’ll go back — I’ll go back to our house, right?” 

Joel was quiet then asked softly but flatly, “Is that what you want?”

“No,” you answered quickly. 

“Then why would ya?” He sounded more confused than hurt. 

“Cause they’re my family.” Your tears began to silently fall.

“Look, peaches.  I know you love’em, but you’re grown,  You make your own choices.”

“I know,” you agreed. 

“You decide who to be with. Ellie loves Riley. They’re a family now, the two of them. I shouldn’ta stopped her, right?” 

“Right,” you whispered.

“We’ll be our own family, darlin’. You and me.” 

Tears stopped up your nose and you sniffled, unsure if it could be that simple. “That’s what I want,” you whispered. 

“That’s what we’ll do,” he reassured you.   

“I just worry about, I don’t know.  Maybe it’s not the same as going off with someone my age.” 

“Ah,” Joel said. “You think they’d have a problem with it bein’ me.”

“I dunno, what do you think?” you asked him. 

“I sure hope not, but you know’em better, baby.”

You sighed and stared at the water.

Joel continued, “I hope they want you to be with who you love. But if they don’t, is that gonna stop ya?”

“I hope not.” 

“You . . .hope not?” His heart pounded under you. 

His voice became serious and less measured.  “It’s up to you and me, darlin’. We’re the ones who decide.  No one else.” 

You nodded, sighed, and wiped your eyes.  The tub squeaked under him as he shifted so you could look at each other. You met his eyes for a moment, and he brushed a tear off your cheek.  He brought a hand to cup your cheek.  You looked down and continued,  “I just don’t see how–” 

“Marry me, peaches.”  He said it softly, but it seemed to echo off the porcelain. Your heart went to your throat as you kept hearing it in your head. You stammered, “What?” and he just nodded. You asked, “How?”

“Marriage is just a decision.  It means we decide we’re our own family, just the two of us, and nothin’ can take us apart.”  

You softly gasped. “Joel. . . .” 

“Ain’t that just what we want?” You were still processing it when he asked again, “that’s what you want, right?” 

Your heart raced. You wanted it, you just didn’t see how it could be that simple. “Yeah, it’s what I want, but-”

“Then what’s the ‘but’ if bein’ together is all that matters?” 

You must have looked upset, because he became apologetic. “I’m sorry darlin’, I know it’s a lot, learnin’ how all this works.”  He cupped your cheek again. “I’m givin’ you my heart right now.” Looking into his eyes in that moment, feeling his skin on yours, you’d never been more sure of anything. 

You reassured him, “There’s no ‘but’. I’m giving you mine, too.” 

He closed his eyes and sighed.  When he opened them again, they were watery.  

“I’m gonna ask you again, and I’m serious.” 

“Okay,” 

“Will you marry me,” he said in a near-whisper. 

You looked from his eyes to his mouth and back and the how didn’t matter anymore.  You nodded.  “Yes,” you whispered.  “That’s what I want.”

He exhaled and choked on a tearful laugh of relief, then he nodded with you.  “I know it is, baby.” He kissed you long and soft on the lips.  “But it feels good to make it official.”  He wrapped his arms around you tight and kissed you on the head, then laid back against the tub, bringing you with him so you were both laid back, facing the faucet again.  

—--------

“So what now?” You asked.  “How do you make it official?”

“Well, I reckon it is, baby,” he said above your head.  Your heart jumped, and not in a bad way. It felt like you were in a good dream. 

He stroked your sides. “I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

You asked, “We don’t have to do anything else?”

Joel sighed, then mused, “I reckon we could dress up nice and do somethin’ to celebrate.” 

“Like what?” You adjusted your position between his legs.

He lowered his voice. “Like whatever you want.” He brought his lips to your ear. “Whatever you really, really want.” Your clit twitched and you were unsure if the gush between your legs was blood or arousal.  You didn’t look to check. 

“Really?”

“If you’re ready.”

“Now?”

“How ‘bout tomorrow, if you’re feelin’ better?”

“Yeah. . .”

He kissed you on the cheek again, then you turned your head for your lips to meet his.  He pulled back to look at you and your tears of fear–fear of being without him–had been replaced by tears of relief.  Hearing his conviction and seeing it on his face, that was what you needed.  It was just a conversation, but somehow, it changed everything.  If no one could take you and Joel apart, and you felt like you had what you needed forever.  

He moved back to be fully behind you again and let you relax so you weren’t craning your neck to kiss him.  He sighed and his big hands roved your front, one of them coming to rest on your breast.  

His voice echoed hoarsely in the bathtub nook. “I love you, baby.” 

“I love you, too.” 

He pulled you closer into him and his cock twitched against your lower back.  “We’re gonna have a beautiful life together.”  

“Yeah,” you agreed.

Joel said, “As long as we’re together, that’s all we need, right?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. It felt too good to be true. 

—------------------

Joel held both your breasts with you lying back against him in the tub.  He palmed them over the waterline, then released the light pressure and used his palms to graze your nipples in light circles until they hardened. The desire that grew between your legs drowned out any echo of the cramps that led you into the bath.  

His other hand carefully slid down between your legs.  He fingered your floating curls, caressed your mound, then his whole hand cupped your bleeding seam. He used that hand to gently pull you into him and his manhood swelled against you.  Then he brought his hand up to your lower abdomen and lightly stroked your skin. “How ya feelin’?” he murmured. 

“So much better,” you said. 

“I can kiss it even better if ya want.” 

“You don’t have to do that.” 

“Course I don’t. . . if ya don’t want.” His cock jumped and he sighed.  “Let’s get ready for bed.  How ‘bout that.” 

“Yeah,” you nodded.  

“Wanna rest in bed a li’l bit?” His voice told you he didn’t want to rest.  

“Yeah,” you nodded.  Even if he wouldn’t be inside you that night, you finally knew when it would be.  It felt less cruel. 

Joel pushed himself up onto the ledge behind you, the firm tip of his cock grazing up your lower back, then stepped out onto the bath mat.  He tied a towel around himself, leaving a significant tent, then held out a hand. You held onto him for balance as you stepped out, and he wrapped a towel around you.  You dried yourself off, then bundled up in the bath robe.  Joel grabbed another towel from the linen closet on his way out of the restroom.

“Just the nightgown, baby. Nothin’ else.” 

While you were upstairs changing, he dried himself off, combed his hair, got dressed for bed, and laid a towel out on the comforter.   

—--------

Joel was sitting on the side of the bed in his boxers and t-shirt when you walked in wearing just the nightgown. He opened his arms for you, and you stood between his knees.  He held your hands and just looked at you for a few seconds, taking in all of you. His eyes watered.  

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered as he wrapped his hands around your ass and buried his face between your breasts.  He looked up at you and his eyes were still sparkling when he said, “So, so beautiful.” He guided you to lie down on the towel.

He kneeled on the bed, nudged your knees apart, and got between your legs.  He lifted your nightgown up and planted a kiss on your mound, then your clit, before hovering over your body and putting his arms down on either side of your abdomen.  He lowered himself as close as possible while being careful not to put any pressure where he thought you might be hurting. At that point, you were only aching for him. 

He gave you a deep, long kiss on the lips then kissed each of your breasts and let his hips lay into the bed between your legs. It all started gentle, but he was overtaken by lust. He dipped his head to suck your neck, and as he dragged his lips down your chest, his eyes closed and his brows knitted together.   

He lowered your nightgown under your breasts.  His jaw flexed as he sucked the bottom of your breast, and a brush of his nose hardened your nipple. 

Your back arched and your whole body erupted in goosebumps.  He moaned into your skin as he sucked one breast and palmed the other.  His ass flexed as his hips rocked into the bed.  You wished his hips were rocking into you instead.  You wrapped your legs around him and your knees under his arms urged him up toward you.  “Joel, please.” 

“Don’t wanna hurt ya, darlin’.”   

“You’re not gonna.” You tried to pull him up more urgently, dying for his loins against yours. He read your face and cracked half a smile. You must have looked so desperate. 

“Okay, baby,” he whispered and let you pull him just where you wanted him. Oh god, the wave of arousal his hardness sent through your body.

“Can you take off your clothes,” you whispered. 

He wordlessly slipped out of his t-shirt and boxers and the sight of his erection made you weak.  He let you wrap your legs around him and pull him into you again. His hard cock met your mound. He sighed at the skin-to-skin contact and a look of pain spread over his face.  He lowered himself more, pressing his arousal against you, nudging your clit.  You whimpered as a bolt of need shot through your already weeping core. 

“I’m ready,”  you said.  “I want you inside me.” 

“Almost,” he replied. “Tomorrow, remember?”

You groaned in frustration.  “Is it because of my period?”

“Course not, baby.”  He kissed his way down your stomach and put your thighs over his shoulders.  He planted a kiss on your clit, then licked into your seam.  He moaned and prodded your entrance with his tongue, then swirled it around your clit, his hips rocking into the mattress again.  He let one leg down and fingered you before devouring you with his mouth again. You could feel it building in your belly, but it wasn’t how you wanted to come.  You wanted to feel him. 

“Come back,” you whined.  “Please. I wanna feel you against me, like the first time you made me come.”  He slid his fingers out of you, and tore his mouth away, wiping both on his discarded boxers.  

He held his cock as he looked at your body with heavy eyelids. He got in position between your legs, swiped the head of his cock through your slick, and laid his shaft onto your mound.  He leaned forward, kissed you deeply and the stiffness of his arousal was hot against your skin.  You throbbed as he began to grind against you. You ached to be filled by him.  Only one more day, but it felt too long. 

He swiped his cock between your legs to get it wet again, and he hesitated with the swollen head at your entrance.  “Ohh, baby,” he sighed, lingering with his tip right there, where only a push of his hips would do it. 

Your whole body went weak as it tried to suck him in.  

You asked, “Can you try it, just a little bit?” 

“Oh, darlin’,” he groaned.  He shook his head no, then brought his tip back above your clit. His cock slid hard and wet against you.  

“Please Joel,” you begged.  “To make sure I'm ready.”  You held his arms with both hands. "Tomorrow can’t be perfect if I’m not ready."

He laughed softly.  “You want it that bad, don’t ya.”

He leaned over you and kissed your head, then your lips.  Once again, he gathered your wetness with the tip of his cock, making your walls twitch. He pressed the tip firmly against your most sensitive place and exhaled raggedly as you throbbed against him.  He used his tip to massage your swollen clit.  Your chest swelled with a sigh and arch of your back.  He closed his eyes and groaned,  and the distress on his face told you he was hanging onto his last shred of restraint.

“Put it in, just a little,” you whispered.  

“Just a little,” he finally agreed. 

—----

He put your knees up a little bit, then aligned his body over yours and nudged your entrance with the head of his cock.  It felt so right.  You’d never wanted anything as bad as you wanted him.  He pushed the curve of his tip in just far enough to stay notched there as he hovered over you with both arms on the bed. The crown still wasn’t breaching your walls, but when he looked down at you and pushed a little further, you felt a slight burn with the stretch.   

“How’s it feel,” he asked.  

“G, g, good,” you whimpered. “So good.” 

He laughed silently at how much was left to go. 

“Am I ready enough? Can you tell?”

“Let’s see, baby.”  He slowly pushed his hips forward, giving you his entire massive tip and you groaned. It felt even better than you imagined. 

“Just a little more,” you whined. 

He pushed a smidgen further.  The stretch felt like you were being spread open and made into something else, something combined with him. You felt your face contorting and your spine arched with the beautiful stretch. “Oh Joel,” you gasped. “I—it-”

“Breathe, baby.” 

He brought his hips back ever so slightly, then moved it in and out of you in small, shallow pulses.  It felt so right, your eyes welled up in tears. 

“That’s all, baby,” he whispered. “That’s all for now,” but he kept doing it, pushing just slightly in and out of you. You watched his arms flex and his face twist as he kept giving you the tip. 

“Ah,” He bit his lip as he gently fucked you with his tip. “Oh God, I wanna–ohh,” he cut himself off with a groan, then sighed, "wanna stuff my whole self inside ya baby." 

“Please do it,” you begged. “please-”

“Oh, fuck—"

"Don't stop-”

“-i, i–i gotta”  He groaned, then pulled out.  He held his cock while he lifted his knees to straddle you and press your thighs together.  Then he slid his cock between your thighs, right up against your folds.  He thrust into your thighs just twice and came, slowly moving it back and forward, painting your folds with his warm seed.  “Feel–feel too good, baby.”

The pulsation of his cock sent you for your own orgasm. You gasped and writhed and whimpered his name as you came against his cock.  You were hugging his cock so tight, your pulsations beating into each other’s loins so hard. 

He lowered his weight onto you as you both finished. Then he got on his side next to you. 

"I want you to do that inside me " you told him. 

He dipped his fingers between your legs, into his cum.

"Want me to fill ya up with that?" 

"Yeah."

"Leave it inside ya?" 

"Yeah."

He whistled silently, then murmured, "can't wait to, baby."  His face was pink and his temples glistened. 

He kissed you on the lips, then you laid in silence for a minute. 

You sighed and said, "that felt really good, being full of you like that."

"Ohh, darlin'," he laughed. "''m afraid ya don't know what full means." He read your eyes, kissed you tenderly, then whispered, "Yet." 

You bit your lip, then he kissed you again. 

“I’ll run the shower for ya.”  Joel went to the bathroom and the water turned on in the standing shower. 

You followed him, and as he checked the water temperature you asked,  “Am I gonna have your last name?” 

“I reckon ya do,” he said and planted a kiss on your lips. 

—-----------

After your shower, you got dressed for bed again, and Joel asked you to sleep with him.  He dozed off quickly, but you didn’t.  You were too excited.  Once you did drift off, you slept light.

In the middle of the night, you heard a vehicle and urgently woke Joel up. He didn't hear it.

“I swear, Joel,” you insisted, but it stopped. 

“It’s okay, baby,” he reassured you. “Just a dream.”  

He held you and kissed you until your heart rate slowed and you drifted off to the feeling of his breathing. 

—----------

PSA. 💒 According to Joel, they're married now. They just are, that's all there is to it. Only thing left to do is "celebrate" 🍆

------------

THANK YOU sooo much for reading and engaging!! I appreciate your comments, discussion, sharing, and reblogs so much, I can't even tell you. Especially when I get labeled so quickly so often. I love you guys! I see you in the wild and I'm like, aw I love them.

And if you're new - I also have another dbf!Joel series, non-horror, but still somewhat of a twist (Trouble AU) at the top of my joel master list. The master list also has a virgin section lol.

-----------

All Joel:@ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea@evyiione@xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious@chernayawidow@ambassadortotrilliusprime@not-a-unique-snowflake-blog@jasminespringtime @romanarose@fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore@blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @wolvesandvampires@taeslarityy@str84pedro@lokanda @kyloispunk @filthfairy@fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine@worhols@fan-fiction-floozy@cutesyscreenname  @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl@feministfanboi@gracieispunk@prettypartyfavor@am-3-thyst@babeincolor@milla-frenchy@switchbladedreamz@within-the-depths@am-3-thyst@may-machin@pedromania91 @sloanexx@paleidiot

@gab-thelamb-onthemoon

[valeriianz]

for the blossoming romance prompts, either 14 (looking at their lips while they talk), 19 (talking late into the night), and/or 27 (sharing an umbrella/coat/blanket, etc) for dreamling!!

i chose "looking at their lips while they talk" tags: human au, hard of hearing Dream, hurt/comfort

--------

Dream is always staring at Hob’s lips whenever he speaks.

It’s something Hob has gotten used to… or so he tries to convince himself. Dream is hard of hearing– not quite deaf, though his hearing is deteriorating. He’d met Dream like this, after his hearing loss began so, without really having to explain why, Hob was able to roll with it– with how Dream has always relied on reading lips.

It did become harder– watching Dream’s gaze drop to his mouth– once Hob realized he had developed a crush on his friend.

Nothing ever prepared him for those deeply crystalline eyes to focus on his lips, even during the most banal of conversations. Hob’s pulse would skip and jump, faltering over his words and laughing at himself sometimes. He wondered what Dream was thinking, during those moments when he would stammer and stutter over a sentence for seemingly no reason. It certainly made conversation drag on a little longer, Dream often having to ask Hob to repeat himself with a patient, almost coy smile.

Or– lord help him– if they were in a dark place like a backyard bonfire or a bar, Dream would lean in close, his face scrunching adorably as he tried to understand the conversation happening around him, and Hob would have to speak directly into Dream’s good ear, a hand cupped over it, like he was telling him a secret.

“I can’t hear a thing in this place,” Dream groused in Hob’s ear, both of them leaning against the bar and surrounded by minimal lights and thumping bass lines.

Hob leaned into Dream’s space, the man automatically turning his head to catch his voice.

“Let’s get out of here, then.” Hob’s lips brushed the shell of Dream’s ear and Hob was just drunk enough to not apologize over it, but the brief contact set his skin on fire regardless.

They soon found themselves walking along the waterfront, the temperature dropping in the cool night air and a breeze kicking up to match the waves on the water. Dream tugged on his jacket before stuffing his hands in its pockets, knocking his head back as he took a deep breath, tasting the city air. Hob watched fondly, the street lights they passed under giving Dream’s skin an orange glow, warm and inviting, and he had an easy expression on, the quiet hour giving him some reprieve.

Neither of them spoke, which Hob sometimes preferred… After knowing Dream for nearly a year now, he’d gotten used to these quiet moments, happy to just enjoy each other’s company. Hob liked that the most about Dream, how he was able to find solace and comfort in the silence, rather than feeling the need to fill it with small talk.

It’s late so there aren’t many people out among the scattered benches and picnic tables, as they are properly walking now into a rest area which usually would be bustling in the daytime. Vendors around them closed for the evening or just breaking down.

They come up to one that still looks open, a chalkboard sign boasting snacks like hot dogs and tater tots. Hob slows and points out the open and lit up stall.

“Food?”

Dream’s gaze sweeps over to the sign, his brows lifting in interest and he nods, turning with Hob as they approach the counter.

Unfortunately they no longer have food, the person behind the stall informs sadly, but they are still serving alcohol. With a sideways glance at Dream, Hob gives in and orders a night cap, and Dream follows suit.

So, here’s a funny thing. Hob watches Dream discuss their cider list with the cashier, and his eyes flick down maybe once or twice during the conversation. And, maybe it’s difficult to tell while he’s not facing Dream, but Hob could swear Dream doesn’t have his gaze affixed to other people’s lips while in conversation with them.

Hob of course has no idea how much Dream really relies on reading lips– how the whole interpretation works for him, matching lip movements to the words… but Hob could swear that he never needs to hyper focus on people’s mouths; he always seems to get along just fine without prolonged eye-to-mouth contact.

In fact, now that he is tipsy enough to overthink, Hob is certain Dream hadn’t always stared at his lips. Hob had naively always attributed that to his hearing declining… but that didn’t make sense, as again, Dream never needed to stare for very long when in conversation with literally anyone else. 

Drinks paid for, Hob and Dream walk a little out of the way of the path, finding a bench in a patch of grass and collapsing onto it with matching sighs.

Hob slowly sipped his beer and Dream, from his cider, staring out at the lit up skyline beyond the water. The windows in the skyscrapers were high and far away enough that they resembled stars, reflecting off the water too. It was pretty, Hob always preferred the city when the sun went down. 

Dream did, too. Much of their experience together was shared after hours.

Hob stares at Dream’s profile, how he can somehow still see his long lashes even in the limited light, the point of Dream’s nose, his devastating jawline that Hob has fantasized pressing his lips to, cupping it with his hand, nudging his nose along until he was in Dream’s sooty hair. He wanted to know what it felt like, to tangle his fingers in that hair, comb through it lovingly and also pull it just to hear what sounds Dream would make if he did so, exposing the line of his throat so Hob could latch his mouth onto it. 

Taking a deep breath, Hob set his drink down on the space next to him, and tapped Dream on the shoulder.

Dream turns, his expression curious and only a little faded, muddled from alcohol, though Hob swore Dream had less to drink than him.

Hob’s pulse kicks up once he realizes what he’s about to ask. He licks his lips and doesn’t miss how Dream’s eyes flit down to catch the movement.

“Why are you always staring at my mouth?”

Dream’s brows pinch, looking back up at Hob’s eyes with a patient stare.

“Because I need to?”

“No, why are you always… staring at my mouth.”

Dream doesn’t need to. Hob is certain of it. And Dream tenses up, his own lips parting silently, his gaze sweeping sideways.

After a beat, Hob panics. He hadn’t meant to put Dream on the spot, or make him feel awkward. He shifts to be just a smidge closer.

“I mean, is the way I speak difficult? Do I have some sort of lisp I’m not aware of?” Hob tries to joke, to lighten the mood, to brush off the question like it wasn’t aimed at Dream. 

Dream doesn’t even look at Hob while he speaks, continuing to stare into the middle distance, turning the tin can in his hold around and around.

Finally, Dream sighs, his shoulders going with it as he turns to bodily face Hob, planting one foot on the bench and almost curling around his bent knee pressed against his chest.

“I’m going deaf…”

A sudden lump appears in Hob’s throat at the quiet, defeated way Dream speaks, his eyes downcast, staring at his drink.

“Figured I was, obviously,” Dream takes a breath, tapping a finger on the rim of the can now. “It's genetic, doctors think. No cure yet. My hearing is just…” he waves a hand around his head. “... deteriorating. Fast. I’ll lose it completely in my left ear within the next five years, and then my right will surely go soon after.”

Hob swallows hard, his throat clicking at the tightness in his throat.

Dream looks up and Hob feels his eyes burn at how watery and red Dream’s usual clear, blue eyes are. 

“It sucks,” Dream proclaims with a choked off laugh, averting his gaze again. “No more music, no more podcasts… soon I won’t be able to hear the sound of my own voice…” his gaze tentatively slips back to Hob’s. “... or yours.”

Hob’s lips part, butterflies now twisting his stomach into knots.

“So I’ve been…” Dream’s eyes rove over Hob’s face, as if searching for the words. “... trying to memorize the sound of your voice.” He gives another broken laugh, his chin dipping to his chest.

“The way your lips move is unique, it helps carry your accent.” He pulls his head back up, resting it on his bent knee. “The way your tongue curls around vowels, the way you putter and stammer sometimes, it creates a profile, and I can attribute the sound of every letter to the way your mouth forms the words.”

Hob is speechless, a complicated mix of euphoria and sadness swirling around within him. 

He must take a moment too long to sit on what Dream has just admitted, because Dream’s face falls, apprehension marring his beautiful features.

“Say something,” Dream whispers, his brows going up.

Hob can’t say anything. His pulse is racing and his throat is clogged with emotion. So instead he leans forward, gets his hands– which shake slightly– on either side of Dream’s face, and kisses him.

Dream gasps loudly against Hob’s lips before kissing back, shooting electricity down Hob’s spine, all the way to his feet and back up, clinging now to Dream and pulling him closer.

Hob parts for air and kisses Dream again and again, lips-only, but he can somehow still taste the honey sweetness of him, can smell it on his breath and feel it under his touch. One of Dream’s hands knots in the front of Hob’s sweater, yanking him closer still, holding on as Hob’s lips trail up Dream’s jaw– softer than it looks– peppering kisses along the way.

Dream breathes harshly into his ear, wet and raw, tucking his head into the crook of Hob’s neck, and goes still. Hob holds him there, one hand going around the back of his head while the other finds his hand on his sweater and disentangles it to hold instead.

Hob listens as Dream breathes deeply, collecting himself, his other hand coming up around Hob’s shoulder and just… holding on.

Nothing needs to be said, though Hob’s mind is swimming with words, but he keeps them in, opting to shut his eyes and feel the warmth of Dream around him, caressing his pointy knuckles and combing his fingers through Dream’s hair. This is enough for now, holding on, knowing they have time after this.

And Hob has always enjoyed the silence they shared.

part 2!

[elastica1995]

a very large tree branch downed the powerline behind my house. the rain put the fire out eventually but our house and 4 other houses on our side of the street don't have power afaik. comed didn't pick up when we called because they had evacuated for the weather. swag. so anyway. life is so funny.

oh the power line is fully down. and the bushes behind my house are definitely on fire.

[unholyhelbig]

https://www.tumblr.com/unholyhelbig/748001277238181888/ive-reread-the-entirety-of-oversight-again-and

i’ve done this as well. i think u should 😌😏😉☺️🥰

Title: Rose Colored Glasses [An Oversight Oneshot]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Summary: Reader gets word that Natasha is hurt and rushes home to assess the situation.

Warnings(PLEASE READ): injury to nose & foot, slight blood, and shrimp

[a/n: Did someone request more oversight? Because I've got you covered. This is pure fluff, sorry for the lack of angst! It's short, and sweet, and not proof read because I don't have time :( ]

Check out the full Oversight universe

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven

A quiet house was never a good sign. Growing up in the foster care system teeming with other wards of the state had taught you that. Often, you were three or four to a room. There were bunk beds with sheets slotted against the ceiling or stuffed under the mattress above your own, just for some type of barrier. It was an illusion of privacy, most of the time. Because houses like that were never quiet.

When you’d moved in across from Darcy after your 18th birthday, things weren’t quiet. Above you was a Latin-American couple that would wait until just past midnight to turn on a slow, rhythmic song and dance. Their steps were soft, and calculated. They carved out time for one another every single night between shifts. Just for the two of them. You often let the thumping base lull you to sleep.

The city was just outside your window. In the summer, you could prop it open with a brick and let the sounds of cars become a backdrop. There were sirens, and when the fire hydrant on the corner was loosened, the world welcomed a cold blast of water, sprinkling into the street. That was the opposite of quiet. That made your chest feel light, and warm.

After marrying Natasha Romanoff, you settled into the loudness of her home. Your home. Veronica was constantly running around the twists and turns of the bottom floor, Clint or Kate or Darcy galloping after her with a big smile on their face. They slowed themselves to make sure they didn’t break anything, but they wanted her to win, too.

Yelena often came with the muffled sounds of Russian techno bands coming from the headphones around her neck. It was a staple to find her in the kitchen with her head down, slicing into an apple from the backyard with precision unknown. Natasha would tug the headphones off to get her attention, or to send her into annoyance.

The night that Natasha got hurt was stifled with the sound of rain. It had soaked you to the bone, dripping onto the linoleum floor and then the carpet as you ascended the stairs two at a time. You’d been at the docks later than usual, the storm that had plagued the side of the harbor was relentless and delayed shipments.

The captain of the shipping boat your family had utilized for decades wanted to discuss something over whatever crap coffee you could beat out of the machine in your office. He spoke with a thick southern drawl, his mustache was encrusted with salt and sand. You had shed your coat and tried to warm yourself up by hugging your mug to your chest. Nothing seemed to work.

While you weren’t opposed to giving the man a raise, you were not the final say. Natasha was, and you figured he could use the company more than anything. The captain flicked through books that were on the shelf, taking two or three for his next journey out to sea. It was like clockwork with him, and you indulged his need for quiet companionship each time.

When your phone rang, you never looked at the caller ID. Those who were privileged enough to get your number knew to talk without any of the pleasantries that they were used to. Clint’s voice came through the receiver in a smooth, hushed tone that made you believe he wasn’t supposed to be calling you in the first place.

“Look, y/n, there’s been an… incident.”

“What kind of incident?”

He was meant to escort her to one of the many cocktail parties that Carlos LaMuerto was throwing at his mansion that bordered the same body of water that you resided on now. They were lovely get-togethers that you often attended with your wife. This, however, was the fourth one this month and your stomach was turning at the idea of another cocktail shrimp and lamb pate.

Clint had offered, seeing the desperation in your eyes. And while Natasha was reluctant, she ultimately agreed. No news of a bust had reached you yet, nor had a gun blazing argument. While the Captain licked his dry lips and scanned the books in front of him, you continued in hushed tones.

“Nat’s hurt. It’s not a big deal, you can finish up your business. She’s just being stubborn is all.”

An escaped sigh “I’ll be there.”

No shit, she was being stubborn. Your wife was bull-headed and wouldn’t admit to the smallest defeat. It eased your nerves slightly, and only slightly, that Clint said it wasn’t a big deal. No gunshot to the back, or knife to the throat. It wasn’t good enough, however.

Natasha would be upset that you tracked mud into the house and left your boots sloshing by the door. You were panting by the time you reached the double doors that led to your bedroom. They were, of course, blocked by Clint and Kate. Yelena was leaning lazily against the railing that was parallel. She regarded you with an uninterested stare.

“You did not have to come here.” She said, “We’ve got it handled.”

“She kicked all of you out, didn’t she?”

“What? She certainly did not!”

Yelena’s voice pitched with her lie. Kate’s cheeks turned an off-shade of pink and Clint just rthe hallway, that was a good sign. Still, neither of the two moved to let you into your own room.

“If you’re not going to get out of the way, can you at least tell me what happened?”

There was a muffled reply from behind the door. With the way that the voice flitted, you knew that she was trapped on the bed. Otherwise, she would have leveled you with a glare right here and now. The words were simple “Do it, you die.”

“Oh, come on,” You whispered harshly, turning your attention to Kate instead. She was the easiest to break. “Katie, what is the harm in letting me through? I’m going to catch my death if I stay in these clothes.”

“Catch your death?” Clint scoffed “What are you? A poet from the 1800’s?”

“I’m about to be breaking your fingers if you don’t-“

“You can’t even break wind,”

The two of your voices combined as you kept at it. You didn’t’ miss the wary look that Kate shot Yelena. One way or another, you’d get into your room. You refused to be banished to the couch again, especially in wet clothes. If you had to threaten ruining the rugs with your muddy footprints, so be it.

“Oh, Jesus Christ!” You held up both of your hands, silencing the chaos of the corridor. “Nat, you are my wife, you’re hurt. Whether you like it or not, I’m coming in. Does anyone have any objections?”

Kate went to raise her hand, but Yelena yanked it back down and shook her head no. You tore into Clint with a look that could drop him dead. He relented and stepped away from the door. While you had a moment of peace, you walked into the dark of the room. She’d turned out the lights, save for the half-moon that showed a pale pattern against the carpet.

When you reached for the light switch on the wall, Natasha let out a noise that was similar to a wounded animal. You halted, your actions and made out her form on the bed. She was folded in on herself, her silhouette rigid.

“Baby,” you cooed, closing the distance between you and the bed. She grunted again, this time in pain. She attempted to turn away from you. You lowered yourself onto the sliver of bed, approaching the situation softly. “Can I turn on a light?”

“No, I’m hideous.”

You chuckled softly “I highly doubt that, my love. I can’t help if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Natasha had never liked being vulnerable around you. It had taken a full weekend of you nursing her back to her feet after the incident on the pier for her to let herself cry. You held her for hours, her nose pressed against the small of your neck. She’d gripped onto you, as if you’d leave. But you never would.

Eventually, you saw her shadow nod. Before she could change her mind, you flicked on the lamp on the side table. It didn’t’ have a far reach, but the light was less harsh on the both of you. It was impossible not to notice the blood that had dried against Natasha’s nose, a split right down the middle.

You’d seen her with broken bones before, bruises that wrapped around her midsection. You’d put ace bandage around her ribs after drawing her a bath. This was nothing to be ashamed about. In fact, she often saw them as battle scars that would heal in a pink gash.

Her foot was wrapped up with a bag of peas and one of frozen carrots that Clint, or even Yelena had situated. There was bruising around her ankle, it looked painful and you internally winced at the coloring. She groaned into the small of her elbow.

“I want to die”

“Natty, it’s okay. This is nothing a cozy weekend inside can’t fix.”

She said something that was quiet and muffled by her arm. You didn’t understand her one bit, but she squeezed a single tear from her eye that you wiped away dutifully before it could reach the silk of sheets.

“What was that, baby?” You asked gently.

She threw both of her hands down and glared at the ceiling. Her fingers eventually found yours, squeezing your palm in reflex. Her words came out in a quick breath, “I tripped over a carpet at the stupid dinner party and hit my face on the catering table.”

You were effectively silenced. That was very un-Natasha. But lately, you and Clint had been pestering her about her eyesight, especially at night. It wasn’t something she wanted to hear. In fact, each time you brought up the idea of glasses, she would effectively silence you with a glare, or even a kick to the shin under the kitchen table if you had company.

You bit the inside of your cheek and ran your thumb over her hand. She clutched your hand tighter. Now was certainly not the time to laugh, and while you fought back the initial giggle, you were more concerned about your wife.

“I’m so embarrassed.”

“I bet you got right back up.” You said, pressing your palm against her cheek. “None of those fancy party types would dare question your influence on this city.”

“Shrimp went flying everywhere.” Natasha pouted.

“Everyone was tired of shrimp anyway, even the shrimp.”

She grasped at the collar of your jacket and pulled you closer to her, pressing her lips against your own. They were warm, the warmest thing that you’ve felt since getting caught in the passing storm. You were careful not to lean on her ribs, breathing in the rosewater scent of her.

Natasha pressed her forehead against yours, running a hand up your spine. She grimaced. “You’re all wet.”

“Well now I am,” You smirked against her jawline, leaving a little nip in your wake. “You need to get glasses.”

“Don’t change the subject. You’re getting the sheets all damp, and you smell like fish.”

“I smell like fish?” You giggled, pressing a kiss to the exposed part of her neck. You felt Natasha laugh too, using her hands to cover her face from the blush that was blooming against her cheeks. “We’re talking about me?”

She laughed harder, attempting to shove you off but you let your body go slack against her, not using your arms to hold yourself up anymore. “Yes! Go shower!”

“Mm, but you’re so warm.”

“You’re not going to be warm if I make you sleep on the couch.”

You gasped dramatically, pulling your head off her stomach and meeting her dark green stare. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me. After the day I’ve had, I refuse to sleep next to my wife when she smells like a marina.”

Even while she said it, her voice was gentle, her fingers working over your scalp to brush the wet hair from your eyes. You pulled yourself up to give her another peck on the lips, careful to avoid the split nose and busted ankle.

“Fine, but only because you need more aspirin.”

She grunted, crossing her arms over her chest. “Can’t believe I let you through my defenses.”

“Uh-huh. Get some rest. I’m going to go talk to your defenses about getting you an appointment with an optometrist.”

You turned to move towards the bathroom, already craving the warmth of a shower and some clean pajamas. Two steps from the doorway and you felt a plush throw pillow hit you directly on the back of the head. Natasha had amazing aim, always had, and always would.

You bent down and picked up the gold upholstered pillow, giving her a faux glare. “You’re not getting this back.”

“Oh, come on, baby.” She stuck out her lower lip “I have to prop up my foot.”

“You should have thought of that before you launched it at my head.”

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