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joelscruff · 1 year ago

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

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

It's crazy how one weekend can change everything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What is it?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe your mother can solve this problem for you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What did you do?"

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

"Did you go to your lesson on Saturday?"

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

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

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

"So have you? Been making progress?"

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

"Which ones are you learning?"

Oh fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"For what?"

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

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

Your stomach twists uncomfortably.

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

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

"Just.... bein' open."

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

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

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

Oh. You didn't know that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You're looking at his daughter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But you did."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He's fuckin' crazy about you.

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

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

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

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

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

"Need it deep inside, huh?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shiver, "Why didn't you?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What is it?"

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

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

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

The anxiety settles, and you believe him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His expression falters, "Why, baby?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I like driving, it's peaceful."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It feels so fucking good to have Joel Miller.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

buying lingerie, what is this?? help!!

Of course, Tasha is the first to reply:

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

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

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

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

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

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

why is being sexy so awkward and expensive?

welcome to my life sister

158 DOLLARS FOR 3 SCRAPS OF MATERIAL

that's it, let it all out

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh, cool."

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

"Is it that obvious?"

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

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

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

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

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

He chuckles, "What were you expectin'?"

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

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

"Did you remind her?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You giggle, "Yeah, probably not."

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

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

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

"Tangled Up in Blue, Bob Dylan."

"I knew it was Bob Dylan."

"Good ear. You play?"

"Um, not really."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Need your pussy touched, baby?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hold on...

Angel

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wince, "Oh. Right."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What the fuck?

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

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

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

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

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

This is too much, you want to say.

How much did you spend? you want to ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He does.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shiver at the thought.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

Are you in Dallas yet?

Let me know when you arrive.

What hotel are you staying at?

Text me back now.

Where are you?

Answer the phone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You read the message again, and then again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There's a beat of silence, then -

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But it -"

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

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

"What d'you mean?"

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

"Is that my crucifix?" you ask quietly.

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

What?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I love you.

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

But you already know that it is.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod quickly, expression hazy, "Yes."

"How wet?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Good?" he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When he says slow - he means slow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hurts?" he asks softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You close your eyes, breathe him in.

I love you.

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

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mj0702 · 10 months ago

Text

The other Bronze – Part 10

okay.... this is a short one but it'll do for tonight 😅

thanks to my gold star anon and my manager @valewosomtb who's also my inspiration

also a big hug to MY bubs @samkerrworshipper

“BUBS!!!” you heard your sister yell down the hallway again “Move your ass – Kei will be picking us up in roughly 10 minutes!”

“COMING...” you yelled back from the guest room which you claimed as yours now

“Jesus Christ woman... calm your non existing tits” you mumbled as you closed your bag slung it over your shoulder looking once around the room again that you packed everything essential before walking down the hallway towards Lucy

“Why does everything has to be last minute with you?” your sister asked nervous going through her bag a fifth time “Do you have everything?”

“Yes mom” you rolled your eyes

“Shorts and Shirts?” she continued to question you and you nodded

“Joggers and sweaters? It's England after all” Lucy went through her mental list

“Yes” you sighed out annoyed

“Socks?”

“Always can wear yours” you mumbled knowing your sister doesn't even want an answer from you she just needs to get it out

“Okay... should I pack the harness?” Lucy mumbled to herself which caused you to look at her horrified

“Scuse me???” you shrieked

“I don't know if I need it...” your sister scratched her brow

“For WHO?????” you squeaked out

“You of course” Lucy looked at you confused

“I'M YOUR SISTER!!!!!” you lost it – right there and then

“I KNOW” your sister imitated your tone

“That's just... no... you can't be serious!!” you retreated to be aghast

“Of course I'm serious... I mean Sarina maybe need it too... you can be quite the handful” Lucy said not understanding why you would make such a big deal out of it

“I... I... I... WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU????” you screeched bewildered

“What is wrong with YOU???? Dear god, I know you don't like Bronzo but I need to concentrate on training not wonder if you're wandering around London again getting lost” your sister said looking at you like you have two heads

“Bronzo?” you asked confused after a minute

“Yes... Bronzo... what did you thought I was talking about?” Lucy shook her head

“Ehrm... nothing” you huffed embarrassed your cheeks heating up

Lucy looked at you puzzled recapping your conversation in her head before she turned to you with wide eyes

“You thought I'm talking about the OTHER harness?????!!!! Oh my God... oh god... NO!!! I was talking about Bronzo” she said more than shocked as she realized you were talking about her little fun toy for Onas and her “alone time”

“I'm happy with Bronzo” you squeaked out your face still red “Bronzo is a good guy”

“We'll NEVER talk about that conversation ever again” Lucy said firmly swallowing hard

“Agreed” you nodded quickly

“Underwear?” she looked at you expectantly

“Not planning to wear any” you sarcastically answered

“Back and pack underwear” she pointed down the hallway as she heard honking from the outside

“Okay... no more time... we'll buy some in London” Lucy said even more nervous as she opened the door grabbing her bags and started to walk towards Keiras Car closing the door behind her

You just stood in the hallway with a blank face waiting for your sister to realize that she – again – forgot you. You already were used to this. Not the first time you travelled with her – normally it was Keira who would remind Lucy that she needs to take her sister but this time Keira was driving so it would take your sister at least 3 minutes to come back. You walked into the kitchen grabbing some bread opened the fridge and made yourself a sandwich knowing you'd have enough time. Five minutes later – you were happily chewing on your Fuet and Garrotxa cheese sandwich as Lucy hastily opened the door looking at you stressed

“Come on... we're going to be late” she took your bag pulling you along

“We have three hours till boarding... I haven't flown as much as you but even I know that's more than enough time” you rolled your eyes biting of your sandwich

“If you get Garrotxa all over my backseat Bitsy you'll pay for the cleaning” Keira threatened you slightly but smiled at you nonetheless

“As if... I'm a Bronze – we don't waste food” you smirked as you let her pull you into a hug

“True with your sister... but you always had very wary eating habits” she chuckled before pressing a soft kiss to your temple “Still can't believe you got hooked on Garrotxa”

“It's the spaniards fault... the made me try...” you huffed

“I didn't thought anyone can MAKE you do anything” the blonde laughed lightly as she slipped into the drivers seat while you got into the back

“Tweedledee and Tweedledumb dared me... not backing down from a dare” you spoke with a full mouth

“Why don't you take another bite, Bubs.. I understood so well what you said” Lucy said at your display of non existing manners

You were about to talk back as Keira quickly shot you down with a short harsh “eh”. So you swallowed your bite before speaking again

“Said tweedledee and tweedledumb dared me...” you said shrugging your shoulders

“And when they dare you to jump off a bridge would you do it???” Keira asked bewildered

“I mean... I would asked with or without a rope and if they say without I would want to see the bridge first....” you shrugged your shoulders again not really getting were the blonde was going with her questioning while Lucy barked out a laugh

“Dear Mary mother of god” Keira sighed “You're going to give me a heart attack one day Bitsy”

“You lived a happy life... isn't that what's important? Dad always told me that the steak I'm eating had a very happy life and that's why it's okay to eat steak...” you said nonchalantly smirking when Kei hit the breaks quickly and the car behind her honked aggressively

“Strike One Bitsy” the blonde warned you “You remember what happened at strike three?”

“Yes” you mumbled out remembering when you pushed Keira so far that she actually grounded you

“Good... since I can't use that anymore I'll warn you.. three strikes and I'll make sure Leah is going all Capitan on your ass...” Keira smirked

“I'm not part of the squad... she isn't my Capitan... she's yours” you threw back

“Oh we all know that's not true... you are very much a part of the team and we all know if Leah wants to you run laps until your feet bleed” the blonde smirked “So don't push it”

“Ugh” you just huffed and sank back into the seat

“What a good girl” Keira praised you teasingly as she smirked knowing she won the argument

20 Minutes later the three of you were pulling into the big Airport of Barcelona and Keira parked her car in the parking lot.

“Bubs... no running off... no lurking about and no going into shops without one of us informed” Lucy said firmly

“I'm 16” you whined

“Yeah... you really sound so grown up” your sister rolled her eyes as she got out of the car getting hers and your bag out of the trunk

Keira held her hand out for you and you burgundy take it as the blonde smiled at you.

“It's for your safety and our nerves..” Keira smiled as she held your hand tightly walking inside the airport.

Immediately there where phones turned towards you three and you started to feel uncomfortable what Kei of course immediately noticed since you grabbed her hand a little tighter

“Relax...” the blonde said lowly as Lucy did her best to cover you from the fans who obviously took the chance to take photos and videos of their idols “Ignore it... We're here and if they want something from you they have to go through me and Lucy first... breath Bitsy”

You tried your best to just listen to Keiras soothing voice but it was oh so hard since the fans got a bit... excited to see Lucy and Keira coming into the airport together and since you weren't very much known outside of the inside football world they wondered who you were. Your sister always tried her best to keep you away from prying eyes since she knew how hateful social media could be and how you were still working through your issues. She never would forbid you to use social media however you please but when it came to photos or videos (either from fans or the official photographers) she tried her best to keep you out of the spotlight. You once had a run in with a photographer at Lyon and it ended with her pulling rank with her name to have the picture removed from the internet. As for now she relented to pull your hoodie over your head as you kept your head down anyway trusting Kei to lead you and not let you run into things. When you all reached security you gasped in relief letting out a breath you didn't even noticed holding.

“You did good Bitsy... I'm very proud of you” Keira said keeping her voice low so no bystanders would hear her

“Thanks Kei... never gets less scaring when they flip their shit like this” you mumbled as you felt a hand on your shoulder squeezing lightly

“Good job Bubs... so proud of you for not freaking out” Lucy smiled warmly as you copied her movements to get through the security area

You haven't flown as much as Lucy or Keira so you seeked their guidance with how it works.

“Belt too Bubs” your sister said warmly as you were about to step forward – Keira already through the body scanner waiting for you and Lucy waiting behind you so you wouldn't get freaked out

“But... then I'll loose my pants” you whined

“You won't... but the bloody thing will scream like you murdered a pig if you try to get through it with a belt on” Lucy said calmly

“Speaking of experience?” you smiled

“In fact... yes...” your sister smiled “forgot I was wearing one”

You recutlanty took off your belt holding on to your pants as you stepped into the body scanner. The security guard waved you through a couple of seconds later and you grabbed onto your pants again as you hurried over to Keira who waited for you with open arms to pull you into a soothing hug. As if on cue the scanner behind you started to ring loudly and you quickly turned around as you saw your sister rolling her eyes at the machine. Two more security guards got over to her as she stepped out of the body scanner her arms spread her hands facing upwards.

“Don't worry Bitsy... Luce is used to it... it's always her” Keira chuckled as she saw your uneasy face

The female security guard patted your sister down while her two male co-workers stood nearby if something went south. Two minutes later your sister was waved off to go on and she came over to you and Keira

“Knew it... those bloody things hate me I swear” your sister grumbled

“Maybe they're fans and it's not a annoyed ringing but a machine wolf whistle” you mused shrugging your shoulders

“Sometimes I wonder what is going on in your head but then I decide I'm better off not knowing” Lucy looked at you bewildered

“You wouldn't be able to follow my geniusness anyway” you stick your tongue out at her

“You constantly get in trouble... nothing genius about that” Lucy shrugged your comment off as she lead the way to your gate

You were seated right in front of the gate on your own as Keira went to get something to drink for the three of you and Lucy was off doing - whatever as you noticed four girls whispering and looking over at you. Keira forbid you to interact with anyone and since you weren't in the mood for it anyway you just nodded and stuffed your Air Pods in texting your girlfriend that you made it successfully through security. Her reply was instant that she herself just got of the plane at Heathrow and she couldn't wait to see you again. You smiled at your phone as you felt someone sitting down next to you

“¿disculpe?” you heard since the music you were playing wasn't loud as you don't want to disturb other passengers but you acted like you didn't heard the girl.

“¿Disculpe?!” she tried again this time louder

Obviously now you didn't had a choice other than to react since people already were turning towards you. So you pulled out one Air Pod looking at her expectantly

“Huh?” you asked trying to give an “please just royally fuck off”-vibe

To your annoyance the girl started to talk to you in spanish obviously not understanding that you just want to have some peace. You made out the words “Keira” and “Lucia” (it still sounded so wrong in your ears that you couldn't stop the eye roll even if you would genuinely tried) and “Barca” and “fan”. You didn't even tried to interact with the girl as you just put your earplug in again starting your Spotify going back to text Georgia. But the girl just didn't give up as she touched your shoulder quite firm and you yelped and sprung up. Thankfully Keira chose this moment to come back immediately putting herself between you and the girl. You were now placed behind the blonde who spotted her famous angry game face talking animatedly with the girl – most likely a very VERY firm scolding. You knew Keiras scolding tells having been on the receiving end quite a few times. Now you also felt an arm around your shoulders making you jump again just to feel the side hug tighten and you felt the familiar calm presents of your sister

“Time to board Bubs” Lucy mumbled after she carefully pulled your earplug out.

“Please tell me I don't have to sit anywhere near her” you said a little pained nodding towards the girl who went back to her friends

“No... we're flying business … she doesn't look like business” Keira said reassuring pushing a water bottle into your hand “I want you to drink at least half of it until take off Bitsy”

“Why?? That will make me need to pee and I'm not going to the toilet at five million feet in the air” you exclaimed upset

“Because you're not used to flying and staying hydrated is important otherwise you'll get a killer headache later” Keira explained calmly knowing you just need an explanation and most of the times you're good with that

“Flight is only two hours, Bubs... you can sprint to the toilets in Heathrow” Lucy smiled as she pushed you down the bridge towards the plane

“We're flying Heathrow???” you stopped dead in your tracks looking with big eyes at your sister

“Of course... what did you think?” Lucy looked at you confused

“I thought were flying Stanstead” you said starting to smile

“Nope... Heathrow” your sister confirmed

“Perfect” you grinned discreetly pulling out your phone

“Huh?” Lucy looked confused at your sudden mood change “You were at Heathrow like a million times... it's not like they changed anything”

“Oh no... but I love the sight flying into London” you grinned while Keira noticed you were texting someone

So she decided to lean over to you as Lucy pulled her phone out herself to text Ona that they were about to board

“If I remember correctly G is flying into Heathrow as well” the blonde smirked knowingly

“Possible” you started to fidget

“Hm... tell her to wait first floor Sierra 5” Keira smirked at you leaning back again to not raise Lucys suspicions.

G and you will have enough of Lucy around that Kei was more than happy to give you a little uninterrupted minute – even if it was in an airport and there were probably some fans around.

“Thanks Kei” you mumbled gratefully

“No problem Bitsy... you both deserve to be happy” the blonde squeezed your hand lightly as she pushed you towards your seat.

“Can I have window??” you asked hopefully looking with puppy eyes at your sister

“Ugh... the things I give up for you” Lucy rolled her eyes for good measure but let you slide into the window seat.

Two hours later the plane touched down on english soil and you couldn't contain your excitement your knee bouncing up and down quickly. Lucy laid her hand soothingly on your knee trying to calm you down

“I know you're happy to be back home but PLEASE calm down... your making me nervous” your sister said her voice low reading the situation completely wrong

You didn't care about England – you cared about Heathrow airport. More specifically first floor Sierra 5 – whatever that means

“Sorry” you mumbled biting down on your lip preventing you from grinning

The second the seatbelt sign was turned off you leaped out of your seat to just get pulled back down by your sister

“Wait” Lucy sighed out annoyed fixing you with a glare while Keira chuckled in the row behind you

“Calm Bitsy... won't be long” Keira scratched the back of your neck from her spot behind your seat

You whined impatiently starting to bounce your knee again until you remembered something

“I need the bathroom” you whined setting up your story already

“Gosh Bubs... really now???” Lucy rolled her eyes

“Kei made me drink a whole bottle of water!!!” you exclaimed

“I mean.. I did” the blonde shrugged her shoulders winking at you

“Just a few more minutes” your sister said

Finally she got out of her seat letting you get up too. You exited your row getting sandwiched between Lucy and Keira as you got out of the plane.

“Okay... off you go... we meet at exit B in 20 minutes.. we need to wait for our baggage” Lucy waved you off as you started do speed walk towards the baggage claim belts

“God... finally...” you mumbled

“Bubs!!” Lucy held you back for a moment “Where do we meet?”

“Exit B... 20 minutes” you repeated and shuffled from one leg to the other for show

“Good... off you run” she let go of your wrist and you continued your speed walking

You found section “Sierra” which was just section S on the first floor quickly and after some searching (and walking into the wrong direction first) you were standing in front of the sign that spotted a big 5 on it. You turned into every direction if you could see your girlfriend somewhere but no such luck.

Suddenly you got grabbed from behind getting pulled into a kind of secret door which led to a secret hallway obviously used from the staff to keep the airport running without the travelling people noticing. Before your brain could catch up and you started to scream you felt a pair of lips on yours. It took you a few seconds to register what was happening but than you kissed back with just as much hunger. When air became a problem you gently pushed against Gs chest getting her to back up a little bit

“Fuck I missed you” you panted out

“Missed you too” Georgia practically purred and laid her forehead against yours as she pecked your lips again

“Have about 13 more minutes and you need to leave before us so Lucy won't flip her shit” you mumbled but pulled your girlfriend down to meet your lips again by her neck

“Mhm” G sighed as she put her hands on your waist before letting them wander to your ass squeezing lightly

You moaned quietly into the kiss pulling yourself up by her shoulder jumping up slightly before locking your legs around Gs waist as she supported your weight easily backing you into the wall.

You separated panting hard and locking your eyes

“We need to stop... right now” you breathing laboured

“Sorry... sorry” your girlfriend apologized immediately her breathing just as flat

“NO.... don't be sorry... but if we don't stop right now we won't stop for a long time... and I plan to have you all to myself in a more fitting environment” you mumbled against her lips leaning into kiss her again

“Think Lucy will let us off easy?” your girlfriend asked between kisses

“Nope” you snorted pulling her closer again as your alarm went off

“Need to go... we're exit B... So get out any other way and be at the hotel before us... I can buy you about 15 minutes” you said as G gently put you on your feet again kissing you passionately one last time before leaving.

“Where is she??” Lucy said looking stressed as she glanced left and right

“She'll come... calm down Luce – she knows her way around Heathrow” Keira said calmly

“Sorry... got held up” you came to a scattered halt next to your sister “I found that shop and...” you rambled on as your sister narrowed her eyes at you

“Come on Lucy” you grabbed her arm pulling her back inside the airport as your girlfriend left said building two door downs, wearing a “London” cap and a pair of sunglasses as a disguise, locking eyes for a second she gave you a smirk as she waved at Keira quickly who of course caught on immediately

“What are you doing? Our car is waiting” your sister stumbled slightly behind you

“Good... it can wait a minute longer... I want to show you” you smiled happily as you pulled her further along

You picked out a small souvenir shop in the distance pulling your sister towards it showing her a “I Love London” shirt smiling brightly

“Seriously?” Lucy looked at you bewildered

“It's cool” you said pressing

“No.... and I'm here for work... come on Bubs” your sister said annoyed pulling you back and outside to shove you into the car waiting for the two Bronzes since Keira already was sitting inside smiling

You exit the Multivan that picked Keira, Lucy and yourself up from the Airport huffing a little bit as the cold english wind grazed around your face and you pulled your hat deeper into your face. Your sister was already five steps ahead basically running up the stairs to the Hotel entrance. Keira got out of the car after you chuckling

“Not used to the english weather anymore, Bitsy?”

“I understand now why Luce chose Barcelona... it's fucking freezing... why aren't you cold?” you asked her as she just smiled at her

“It's a bit chilly I must admit...” Keira started as you interrupted her

“You sound like fucking royalty... it's a bit chilly” you rolled your eyes imitating her

“Careful there wee one...” she warned you but smiled noneless

“What's her mission?” you asked as you watch your sister standing in front of the entrance looking like she's mentally preparing for a World Cup final

“Oh she's probably looking for G... you remember... the “talk”...” Keira grinned watching as all colour leaves your face and you frantically pull out your phone shooting your girlfriend a one word text “HIDE”

“Lucy!!” you shouted sprinting after her as you watched in slow motion how your sister entered the Hotel lobby

“STANWAY!!!” you could hear her yell once inside while you sprinted up the stairs stumbled over the last step nearly fell but catched yourself just in time to not face plant either into the glass door or the concrete

“Lucy... please... don't...” you panicky started as you entered the lobby to just find your sister looking around confused

“Where is she?” Lucy asked into the round of Lionesses who just looked at her with pure confusion on their faces

“Welcome to camp Bronze... who exactly are you looking for?” Millie said bewildered

“Yeah hi” Lucy answered quickly still looking around “I'm looking for Stanway”

“She was here just a second ago” Ella said starting to look around too

You also scanned the Lobby as you received a text from Georgia which just contained a picture of the group and you standing a little to the side. Your head snapped up and you tried to figured out from which direction the picture was send. As you finally spotted some blonde hair hiding behind one of the large bushy plants just a few feet away from the group you had to hold back the laugh that threatened to escape your lips.

“Where is she??” Lucy now fixed her eyes on you

“Don't see her” you shrugged her shoulders but your eyes quickly glanced to the stairway and you hoped your sister would take the bait

God you really knew her. Of course Lucy picked up your rapid eye movement and went for it straight on as she turned towards the staircase and you could see her brain working before quickly running towards the door.

“Toons... get me the elevator... go” you shoved your best friend “I've got about 90 seconds to get my girlfriend out of here”

You saw Lucy stomping threw the door and quickly signalled to G to get to the elevators. All while most of the Lionesses started to chuckle.

“You little...” you heard your sister yell through the lobby just as the elevator doors were closing

“Sorry...” you smiled innocently trying to hug your sister “But I don't want you to kill her – you wouldn't survive in jail with your knee”

“You're lucky I'm obligated to love you” Lucy mumbled pulling you into a hug “But I will get her at some point”

“But not right now” you mumbled against your sisters shoulder

“Lucy!!” you heard the only voice that make your blood boil

“Hey LJ” your sister pulled her into a side hug while still holding onto you and you growled lowly but before you could snap at the intruder

“Alright Lionesses!!!!” you suddenly heard Leah Williamson speaking up “Welcome to Camp... It's nice to see you all again... we're doing Rooms now then you have time to change and shower and then meeting in an hour!”

“Aye Skipper” the group replied

“Okay... Walsh and Stanway” Leah called out holding up two room cards which Keira picked out of her hand

“I'll tell her when I find G” the blonde grinned winking at Leah who just grinned back

“Bronze and Russo” Leah called out

“YES!!” Alessia and you high-fived

“Not you y/n... Lucy Bronze... I'm not THAT stupid!” the blonde Capitan interrupted you

“Man...” you whined as you saw Lucy got the two room cards

“Earps and Toone” Leah said ignoring you

“What have I done???” Mary asked confused and her tone had a whine

“Come on Mearps... that will be so much fun” Tooney grinned as she tried to get the cards but Leah held them out to Mary

This went one for a couple of minutes until there were only a few people left – and at this point you actually would choose Lotte. You never were particular close to Lotte but she was nice enough too you. Sadly you just weren't that lucky

“And that leaves... Bronze and James” Leah summed the room assignments up holding out the last two room cards

“WHAT??” you asked her angrily

“You... and LJ... one room.. not that hard, poppy” the blonde Capitan said knowing you wouldn't be happy

“HELL to the NO... I'm NOT sharing a room with... HER” you growled pointing towards the young player

“You will... you will suck it up and act as grown up as I know you are” Leah said lowly not getting your anger get to her

“When hell freezes over I'll share with... I wish I could say what I want but I already have four sets of 15 on my hands... not adding a fifth one” you growled out between gritted teeth

“Calm down... be open and you'll may be surprised and maybe you discover that you and LJ are not that different” the blonde spoke lowly

“You have no idea what you're talking about, Williamson” you sneered and Leah just considered if she really made the right call on the matter since you never called her by her last name

“If you really want we can swap okay...” Leah offered holding her hands up in surrender

“No... no... don't want to mess up the team spirit” you growled as you turned around leaving the lobby

“Y/n!!!! You're NOT leaving the hotel on your own” Leah yelled after you for you just to flip her off and keep walking

#lucy bronze x reader #keira walsh x reader #woso image #lucy bronze #lionesses x reader

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ragingbookdragon · 2 years ago

Text

She stared at them like they’d lost their minds. “What is this? A TV show? You seriously want me to dress up and go into this guy’s hideout all alone and flirt the information out of him? Are you fucking kidding me?”

The group shared a look, then Soap shrugged. “I mean, yeah, that’s the gist of the plan.”

With a sigh, she asked, “Do you at least have any dresses for me?”

“Already prepared,” Soap replied, lifting a bag.

“Gimme.” She took the bag from him and dropped it by her feet, toeing off her boots as she unbuttoned her pants and shoved them down her thighs; their eyes hit the ceiling to give her privacy.

“Uh…we have a bathroom.”

“And I have no shame,” she answered, yanking off her jacket, shirt, and tank top underneath. “Literally. I had a guy watch me shit when I was in basic. Had a full-on conversation with that man because he didn’t understand personal space in the head.” She picked out one of the dresses. “Didn’t even look away when I wiped. So, I, from that day forward, have never felt any sense of shame whatsoever. Because if you can have a conversation, with the opposite gender, while you’re shitting, you have no reason to ever be ashamed again.”

“I seriously wonder about your time at boot camp,” Price muttered, and she snorted.

“Pretty sure my entire group was nicotine depraved and crackheads.”

Soap had long lowered his eyes from the ceiling as he commented, “You know your underwear doesn’t match your bra, right?”

“Stellar observation there, Soap. No wonder you’re such a great shot.” She gestured to the red and plaid holiday bra and the neon green hi-briefs. “Forgot to pack before this mission and the underwear to the bra was dirty.”

“Why don’t you just stick with mil-issued?”

Her face pinched. “I’d rather use my hands as a cover for my tits and vag than use shit undergarments I can rip with my bare hands. And I have, in fact, ripped them with my bare hands before. And no, Soap,” she cut off, “you don’t get to ask why.”

She pulled the dress up her legs and slipped her arms through the sleeves, adjusting it to her body, then she frowned. “What am I going to church?”

“It has a slit in the side,” Soap offered, and she started walking around.

“My dudes, I can’t walk in this thing, let alone fight if things go bad.” Ghost, who’d been silent up until that point, walked towards her and she looked at him. “What?” he said nothing, and she backed up. “Ghost, what?”

He stood before her, reached down, and bunched the dress up in his hands, yanking it up her hips until everyone saw neon green. His fingers dug into the meat of her ass, keeping her in place even as she tried to recoil. Her eyes flashed with anger, and she let a knee fly up towards his groin—he caught it of course, also dodging the elbow she sent his way. Ghost gave a ‘hmpf’ and said, “Seems to me like you can fight just fine, love.” Letting her go, he smoothed the dress back down her legs and walked off, leaving her flustered in anger, embarrassment, and if she were being totally honest, arousal.

“Not. One. Word.” She hissed, pointing at the men who suddenly found the floor, the ceiling, and each other much more interesting than her.

As she stalked off in Ghost’s direction, Soap crossed his arms over his chest and muttered, “I’m not paying you money. They didn’t confess.”

Gaz smirked. “Yeah, but they’re gonna bone so it still counts.”

Price scowled at them. “You’re dogs…how much are we betting?”

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watchmegetobsessed · 1 year ago

Note

“Who’s is it”

JUST HANDS

WORD COUNT: 1.9k

WARNING: sexual content

SUMMARY: Harry, your college best friend has offered to help you move, but neither of you expected him to find your dildo in the midst of packing. And you especially not expected what came afterwards.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

You know you’re fucked the moment you see Harry grab the blue shoebox from under the bed, but it doesn’t process until he opens the lid and pulls out your trusty purple dildo.

This was not on your bingo card. Your best friend holding your beloved cock replacement that has gotten you through so many droughts and heartbreaks when you couldn’t even bear to look at a man.

Now that dildo is being held up by Harry and you feel like you’re about to scream and burn the apartment down.

“Um, whose is it?” Harry manages to ask, his cheeks turning cherry red, but he is still holding up the fucking dildo.

Once your muscles are over the shock and you finally force yourself to move you step to him over the plenty of boxes and bags on the floor and grab the dildo from him before shoving it into one of the bags.

“Who do you think it belongs to, idiot?” you snap, the heat that’s crawling up your neck is dizzying. “We’re packing up my bedroom, whose fucking dildo would it be?”

Harry clears his throat and just stands there for a couple of moments while you busy yourself with emptying the dresser. But maybe it wasn’t the best idea, because now Harry is watching you throw your thongs and all kinds of underwear into a bag, making it even more awkward.

This is not how you imagine this afternoon when you asked Harry to help you pack up your room. You’ve been living here for the past two years, sharing the apartment with two other girls, but you finally found a nice studio apartment for your senior year of college, so you’re moving now. Harry has been a huge help so far, but right now you wish you never asked him to come over.

Minutes pass by and he is still just standing there, staring at you and it’s now pissing you off.

“What?” you snap with a sigh as you finally dare to look up.

You’ve known Harry since the first day of college. He spilled his green juice on your right before your first ever lecture and then switched shirts with you just so you could make a good impression on the professor. So you sat in an oversized, simple black shirt while Harry sported a sheer white blouse with a big green stain on it, ignoring every curious eyes that turned to him.

You’ve been best friends since then, but you’ve never seen him look at you the way he is looking at you right now. Pupils dilated, the friendly green of his irises has disappeared, his pink lips are parted and there’s something new in his posture as well, but you just can’t put your finger on it.

And it’s making you sweat.

“Uh, n-nothing,” he shakes his head, breaking the eye contact at last. “It’s nothing.”

“Then let’s just move on, alright?”

He only hums as he grabs a box from the floor and gets back to work. But it’s not the same. You can feel the tension as you silently pack next to each other and you catch Harry staring at either you or the bag you shoved the dildo into. When some time has passed and you’ve passed by the embarrassment you finally work up the courage to address the situation, hoping to ease the suffocating tension.

“Um, sorry about… the… I forgot about it and didn’t think you’d find it.”

Harry looks up at you from the pile of shoes he’s been placing in a box, he looks like a deer caught in the headlights for a brief second before a smirk tugs on his lips.

“Forgot about it? So you haven’t used it lately?”

“That’s not… that’s not what I mean. I did use it recently–”

Did you really just admit to masturbating to him? With your purple dildo? For fuck’s sake, this is getting worse by the minute.

“I-I mean, uhh–”

“I know what you meant,” he chuckles, looking down at the shoes as he shakes his head, but you notice his ears have turned red. “It’s just… never mind.”

“What?”

“Nothing, let’s just move on.”

“No, tell me! I wanna know what you wanted to say.”

Sighing he drops the pair of tennis shoes from his hands and looks up at you.

“I just never thought you’re the kind to use… help, like toys.”

You blink at him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Your thoughts are racing a million miles per second, trying to process his words. He never thought you were the kind to use toys? You’re not ballsy or freaky enough to use a dildo? Does he think you’re too prude for sex toys? And most importantly, has he actually been thinking about your ways of masturbating?

Harry shrugs as he stands, hands on his hips.

“It’s just that I always thought you either get a hook up or just use your hands.”

“Why? You think I’m too prude to use toys?”

“That’s not what I said,” he chuckles, but you’re not done pouring questions at him.

“And do you often ponder about how I usually masturbate? Because you seem to be having a very strong opinion about the topic.”

“What?” Now his face has gone blank and you can sense his discomfort.

“Just so you know, I very much love to use that dildo and I’m also a fan of rabbit vibrators, I used to have one, but I dropped it and it broke and haven’t gotten a new one.”

Harry’s eyebrows rise and you swallow hard as you realize just how much you gave away about your private life. Neither of you speaks and then you both just sort of go back to packing without acknowledging the things said, but you can’t stop thinking about it.

This might not feel like this big of a deal if you haven’t been crazily into Harry these past months. You have no idea when your feelings shifted from friendly to “I want him to fuck me in the school cafeteria”, but it’s been messing with your head. Your dirty dreams about him don’t help your case either.

Just as you recite his words probably for the millionth time he breaks the silence.

“I do, by the way.”

“Huh?” you ask with a dumb frown.

“I do think about how you pleasure yourself. Pretty often. Mostly when I’m wanking.”

Your mouth drops open and whatever was in your hand now drops to the floor as you stare back at him. He is holding your gaze smugly, as if he is challenging you to react and make the next move.

The ball is in your court.

Your chest is rising and falling rapidly as you’re trying to wrap your head around where this conversation has gotten to and you make a decision within a second.

“Do you want to actually watch me touch myself?”

The words sound distant, but you know you said them. And you watch Harry’s eyes turn darker than ever as he slowly nods.

“Yeah.”

Your desires take over your actions, rationality has been thrown out the window as you walk over to him and take his hand, pulling him over to the dresser that’s facing the bed.

“Stand here,” you tell him as you position him against the dresser and then you climb onto your bed, making yourself comfortable in the middle, opening your legs so Harry has an excellent view of the way you run your hand over yourself, only your tiny cotton shorts covering your pussy from his greedy eyes.

“I could use the dildo, or just my hands. What do you want, Harry?” you question, while you keep rubbing yourself over the fabric of your shorts and there’s probably a wet stain already showing through it.

“Hands,” he answers eagerly. “Just hands.”

Lifting your hips you push down your shorts and underwear, over your knees and then kick them to the side before opening your legs again, this time exposing your naked cunt in front of Harry.

When you hear a shaky moan from him you lick two of your fingers before reaching down and keeping eye contact with him you start circling them on your clit the way you like it.

“You like it?” You ask, words turning into a moan when you hit the right spot.

“Yes,” he breathes out and as your gaze drops to his crotch you notice just how much he is enjoying the show. The outline of his cock is teasing you from across the room and though part of you wants him to fuck you until you forget your own name, you’re also enjoying this little game you’re playing and you want to finish it.

“What else do you want me to do, Harry?”

This time he needs a few seconds before he can answer.

“Finger yourself.”

“Want to see my fingers fucking my pussy?”

“Yes,” he nods eagerly and you see his hand twitching, but he doesn’t touch himself, instead, he looks you in the eyes and asks: “Can I touch myself too?”

Fuck, you love this obedient side of him, love that you feel in charge of him.

“Yes. I wanna see you play with yourself while I fuck myself.”

Harry groans as he rushes to undo the button and zipper of his pants and tug them down halfway on his thighs, just enough to let his hard cock finally spring free. Your mouth waters and you whimper as you push two fingers inside you, pretending like it’s his cock that’s filling you up, though you know it will be a whole different feeling when his dick finally pushes into you.

Leaning against the dresser he is jerking himself off while watching you edge yourself closer to your orgasm. Curling your fingers, pushing, pressing and pinching, you already know you won’t last much longer, not when you’re staring at Harry’s throbbing cock.

“Are you close?” you ask, gasping for air, your back arching from the mattress.

“Yes, fuck, I’m gonna come,” he hisses, his eyes glued to you.

“Come with me, Harry!” you whine and he nods, his hand going even faster now.

You stare at each other the moment you both reach your climax. Your legs are shaking and you can’t quiet yourself while you watch Harry’s cum squirt onto the floor in waves, he gasps for air and calls out your name like a plea.

Minutes pass by and the two of you remain in your own respective spots, trying to catch your breath and return to reality. When it finally happens you sit up and you’re met with Harry’s eyes already resting on you. For a moment you have no idea what’s gonna happen, but then you both suddenly start to laugh.

“That was… unexpected,” he admits, lazily pulling his pants back up as you scoot to the edge of the mattress. Harry walks over to you and helps you up from the bed. Now you’re looking at each other from up close.

“But did you enjoy it?” you ask with a sheepish smile.

“The proof that I enjoyed it is on the floor now,” he chuckles and it makes you laugh as well.

“Maybe… next time we could be closer to each other. Even touch each other,” you muse.

Harry smirks as he takes your chin between his thumb and index finger before running his thumb across your lower lip.

“I would love that.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut

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msgexymunson · 1 year ago

Text

Forbidden Fruit Part 5

Description: the situation has come to a head, and you prepare to run off into the sunset with Eddie. But, will you be able to come back?

A/N: so, this 'one shot' turned into a 5 part freakin' torrid romance! Thank you guys for the support! This is the final part, I hope you enjoy it. Remember, I live for your reblogs and comments, I need them like Tinkerbell needs claps.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ Minors DNI this ain't for you! Dom Eddie, Fem reader, age gap, reader 21 Eddie early 40s, fingering, p in v unprotected sex (that's how you make babies) anal (that's NOT how you make babies), eloping, spit play, like one spank, parental confrontations, angst with happy ending.

7.5k words

Masterlist Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Is this even happening right now?

Your breath catches in your throat as you take in the figure in front of you. He looks frantic, eyes wide and a little wild, hairs flying free from the low bun on his head. The mark your father gifted him has blossomed on his eye; it's a little swollen, glowing with a flesh flower of purple and yellow.

"How did you even get in-"

"Oh, your Dad forgot he gave me a spare key. I saw your mom leave. I've been waiting for days, your house has been like fuckin' Alcatraz."

You nod, fully aware of how crazy it's gotten.

"Eddie… Vegas?" You say, reaching for his face with a soft touch. Wincing, he holds your hand with his, enveloping it as he brushes his lips against your fingers sending a shiver up your spine.

"Listen. The weekend we had, all I could think was that I wanted it to be real. Every time I heard Mr and Mrs Munson, it fucking hurt." He looks away briefly; it's like this is difficult to admit. You wait patiently, hand still in his.

"I- I love you sweetheart." Gaze back on yours, his eyes are soft and glassy.

"I love you too, so much. But Eddie, you still haven't said. Vegas?" Prompting again, your heart in your throat, airway constricted with feelings. You know what he's saying, but you want him to say it. You need him to say it.

"I wanna marry you sweetheart. I want… no, I need to wake up with you every day, in my arms. If you'll have me?" Large hands find your waist, holding you in front of him as you look into his bourbon whiskey eyes.

"Yes. I'll have you." Grinning like an idiot, you wrap your arms around his neck, the gesture so natural and right it brings tears to your eyes. The kiss you share is soft, but brief.

"As much as I want to just hold you right now, we need to go, in case you're widowed before we even get hitched." He's chuckling, but the edge of nerves is prominent in his voice.

"OK, gimme like five minutes."

Never has a duffel bag been filled so fast. Clothes, underwear, shoes, toothbrush; you're not even sure what you've packed, but the bag is full, so that will have to do. Eddie grabs the bag as if it's weightless and throws it on his shoulder, ushering you out with his hand on the small of your back.

"Wait, I need to leave a note at least, otherwise he might call the police or something."

He might anyway, he's lost it.

You scribble down that you've gone on a trip and you'll be back, so you can all talk about this like adults. That last part is underlined. Signing your name, you both hustle out of your house and into Eddie's waiting truck.

As he drives away, the magnitude of what you're doing truly hits you. Is this what you want? You and Eddie, Mr and Mrs Munson, until death do you part?

You steal a glance at Eddie whilst he's driving. His strong jaw, the spackling of day old stubble, his serious concentration face he wears when he's driving. Any doubts you have melt, disintegrating into those beautiful eyes. He's the one. He's always been the one.

********************

Sunlight is dwindling, fading over the horizon slowly as you pull into a motel car park for the night. The room is… well, it's there. A bed and a bathroom, fitted with outdated decor that would look more at home in the 70's, including the lumpy mattress. It will do for now, merely a pit stop on the road.

Flumping down onto the ancient mattress, a dust cloud fluffing up, you stretch your arms towards Eddie, making grabby hands at him.

He laughs, dumping your bags before dramatically falling on top of you with all his weight.

"Eddie, I'm dying…" you croak out in a feigned weak voice, shutting your eyes and allowing your tongue to loll out of your mouth.

The drama is short lived however, as he runs the tip of his tongue over yours.

"Eddie!" You admonish, "I'm trying to die here, stop making it sexy!"

"Sweetheart, I can't help what turns you on." Smirking, he lands sloppy kisses on your mouth, all wet spit and smacking noises.

"Baby, you animal, can we eat first?"

"I was planning to." The kisses turn sultry, lips and nips trace up to your earlobe, sucking the skin in the way he knows you love.

"Eddie…" a warning tone, but there's an obvious lack of bite.

"OK, food. Gotcha." He's off you then, bouncing to his feet, leaving you breathing hard and heavy on the bed.

Eddie knows. The grin he's wearing is sinful, but for once he doesn't tease you. All he does is grab leaflets for nearby places and gets you to choose. Settling on a nearby pizza place, a gentle kiss is perched on your forehead as he leaves to get your order.

The grime that had gathered on you for the last few days is getting to you, so you take a long shower whilst he's gone. At the very least, the showers are hot. Basking under the steaming water, you rinse the dirt away and grab a less than fluffy towel from the rack, drying off.

You slip on the silk robe you managed to bring and sit cross legged on the bed just in time to see Eddie hustle through the door.

Eddie makes it inside, shutting the door behind him, moving with purpose. Until he sees you, that is. He staggers back dramatically then, as if he's about to faint.

"Sweetheart, you expect me to eat whilst you're in that robe? How can I concentrate on food with you looking hotter than sin?"

You smirk, tying it tighter around your body, perky nipples creating peaks in the fabric.

"Give me my pizza and then you can have what you want."

"Oh… might have to hold you to that" He smirks, passing you the take out boxes.

You both sit and eat, drinking a couple of beers between you. The pizza is soon demolished and you lie back in lumpy pillows, sated and content.

"So…do I get my dessert now? Please?"

Eddie's raking over your form with hungry eyes, mentally stripping you bare of clothes with just one heated glance. A nod and he's on you, sucking a bruise so hard in your neck you fear it might be permanent.

As he starts to run his tongue down your throat, you push him off with a little force that shocks him completely.

"What's wrong? You OK?" He asks as he pulls away, deeply concerned by your actions.

"We're getting married right? I forgot, I need something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue!"

"Really?" He chuckles, looking at your panicked eyes, "right now?"

"Yes! I mean, it's bad luck, isn't it? What if we get there and I don't have them, or what if-"

"Stop. Just breathe sweetheart." His soulful eyes drill into yours, finding the calm and bringing it to the surface. You take a deep breath and squeeze his hands with yours.

"OK. I mean, I've got something old, my birthstone ring, had it for as long as I can remember." As you speak you flash your hand at him, indicating the tiny band with the small sparkling stone set in it.

Eddie plants a kiss over the top of it, setting your insides on fire.

"Right, one down. As for something borrowed, you can always borrow this."

He takes a small unassuming ring off his finger. It doesn't sit well with the rest, tarnished and old looking; what looks like a mood stone is set in the centre. Wordlessly he hands it to you.

Turning it over in your hands, you look up at him with glistening eyes.

"It was my moms."

"It's really pretty."

"So was she."

Seems that's all the information he's willing to give. You try it on a couple of fingers before you settle on your thumb.

"Hmm, tiny hands" He laughs, rubbing your palms with his thumbs.

"So, what about-"

"Listen. I was gonna wait for this, but if you need this now…"

He gets up, striding toward his abandoned leather jacket and fishes around for a moment. Then, he's back, a small black ring box in his hand.

"I was gonna do this in Vegas but-"

Flipping it open, you see a dainty ring inside. A beautifully cut diamond nestled in the centre, surrounded by what appears to be a ring of rubies, set in a thin white gold band.

"Eddie, what the- when?" You ask, a lump forming in your throat, constricting it with emotion.

"The day after my little confession. It was wild I know, I thought I might have a chance to talk to you, talk to your dad, but he lost it and I… I panicked." He shrugs, like buying some expensive engagement ring is normal behaviour.

"Eddie…" words escape you momentarily as you stare dumbfounded at Eddie.

"Do you like it?"

"Do I like it? It's like you pulled it out of my brain, it's gorgeous!"

Eddie grins massively, slipping the ring out of the box and sliding it gently onto your ring finger. Surprisingly, it fits. Turning your hand this way and that, you watch the stones glimmer in the lamp light. Words cannot express the feelings churning through you as you watch the light refract from the diamond.

"Eddie its too much-"

"Nope. Not having it. It's for you, if anything it's not enough. You deserve, like- a herd of ponies and a private island or something."

You laugh loudly, sheer joy overrunning all senses as you stare at the ring.

"So, you wanna tell me what this is really about sweetheart?"

"Huh?" You tear your eyes away from the sparkling rock and look him in the eyes.

"Come here." He says, patting his thigh.

You swing your legs over him, thighs sitting side saddle against his muscular jean clad legs. Immediately he grabs the back of your neck, his other hand stroking at the inside of your knee. Face forced to look at him, you can't escape the serious look in his eye.

He continues, "what is this about? You having doubts about this, 'bout us?"

Shock widens your eyes.

"No! Not at all, it's just… well it's silly."

His look softens as he begins to stroke your inner thigh. "No it isn't, not if you're worried. What is it?"

His hands are all consuming, filling your senses with nothing but his touch.

"It's just… I'm a student. I'm not earning any money. And after that, I've got more training so I can be a teacher. I don't want you to have to… I dunno, provide for me I suppose." Your eyes dip downwards, almost ashamed of your own deepest thoughts.

"Hey. Look at me, my good girl."

Your body won't let you disobey the command in his voice, no matter how soft it is. Your eyes flash up to meet his in an instant.

"I want this. I want you, and everything that means." His hand on your leg traces higher, whispering over the soft skin and dipping unseen, but not unfelt, underneath your robe.

"I know you're still getting your qualifications and that's fine. I've got a big house sweetheart, two cars, hell I own the mechanic shop outright. I've got more money than I know what to do with."

His hand trails even higher, rough fingertips grazing your slit making you gasp. Running his fingers up and down your folds gently, gathering seeping wetness, he continues.

"The only thing I'm missing- is you. I can't stop thinking about you being mine, my partner, my wife. I'll pay for your schooling if I have to, I don't care. I need you in my life."

"Eddie… I don't know what to say. Do- do you mean it?" You ask, eyes glossing over.

"Sweetheart, I've never been more serious in all my life."

His middle finger breaches your entrance then, just enough for you to feel it and start clenching. It's toying with you almost, just up to the first knuckle.

"So, you still want me, sweetheart?"

"O-oh of course- oh fuck!"

He plunges two thick fingers deep inside you suddenly, pulling a needy howl from you at the unexpected pressure. Plunging them in and out of your wet heat he continues to hold your neck in place, keeping you staring at him.

"Keep looking at me. I need to see you come. Can you do that? Can you come for me sweetheart?"

You whine in response, a shake working its way over your skin and outstretching into the air around you, the room practically humming in anticipation.

"I asked a question…" his voice is lilting, as if amused. His fingers keep his persistent drilling into your soaked cunt, the squelching noise echoing through the trashy room.

"Y-yes Eddie" you respond, a whisper, a shadow of a promise.

"That's my girl."

The relentless pounding of his digits into your sodden pussy continue, unrelenting. You wail, convulsing almost, your slick heat contracting around his fingers hard as a ring of your creamy wetness circles them.

Pressure mounts in your abdomen, the force pressing on your belly in waves. Eyes flutter shut briefly until Eddie's grasp on the back of your neck borders pain. They snap back open.

"Eyes on me sweetheart."

His gaze on you is unwavering, staring straight at you and into your soul.

"You gonna come for me my girl? My beautiful, dirty girl? You look so pretty when you come."

His words push you over the edge, striking straight at your cunt. You fall apart on his command, the magnitude of your release shaking your limbs. You're only dimly aware of the impossibly loud squelching sound that keeps going as he works you through your orgasm.

As the stars start finally clearing from your vision you stare back at him gormlessly.

Eddie finally removes his fingers from your core and shows his shining hand to you.

"Soaked me sweetheart. Pretty sure you've ruined my jeans."

Swinging your legs away from his lap you see the full extent of your release. The dark patch on his jeans is surprisingly large, absolutely drenched with your cum.

"Fuck, I'm sorry-"

"Don't apologise. That's hot as hell. Now, take my pants off for me sweetheart."

Quirking an eyebrow at his request, you still oblige, unhooking the belt and shimmying his jeans off of his taut frame. You notice, with a flash of embarrassment, that your release has even soaked through to his boxers, leaving a damp patch on one side. Removing those too and flinging them away, you gawp at his rock hard length. Every time you see it, you think it's not going to fit, even though you have literal evidence to the contrary.

"What now, Mr Munson?" You jokingly ask, mischief lacing your words.

"Hmmm" He hums deeply, eyes impossibly dark, "so polite. I want you to ride me a little. I want to see that sexy body of yours bouncing in my lap. Think you can do that for me sweetheart?"

You're nodding enthusiastically before you realise, slipping your silk robe off to join his bundle of clothes.

Straddling him, you tease him just a little, your soaking lips dragging across his hardened length. Almost expecting him to admonish you for your bating movements, you stare into his eyes. Oh, he just looks amused, lips pulled into a playful half smirk. A look you have seen before, many times, which makes you realise that you were really in for it.

Petulantly you tug at the hem off his shirt and give him a childish pout. "Off."

"As you wish." The grin remains as he pulls his shirt over his head and throws it into the void.

Stunned by his body for a second, you run your fingertips over muscles, tattoos and chest hairs, feeling him tighten under your ministrations.

Enough teasing, you need him now.

Holding his throbbing member with one hand, you line him up and slowly sink down until you're sitting flush on his lap. A mutual groan flies out of both of your lips; the feeling of him filling you completely, unsure where one ends and the other begins, is simply otherworldly. If you could bottle it you could make a fucking fortune.

Eddie's hands grasp you firmly by the hips, dragging you forcibly up and down his staggering length. You do your best to keep up, using your thighs and your hands on his chest as leverage, but he is relentless today. Before you realise it, your head is lolling to one side, bones in your neck a distant memory. You can't think, only feel.

Eddie knows.

"Aw, sweetheart, fucked dumb already huh?" He asks, mocking words dripping from his tongue like bitter sweet honey.

"I- I can't" are the only words you can manage, his unbroken pounding into you filling your entire being.

"Shouldn't tease me so much then," he half laughs, and sits up, climbing to his knees to flip you backwards onto the bed. His arm hooks underneath your knee to bring it close to your chest as his powerful thrusts continue.

"Holy shit, Eddie!" You squeal, cunt clamping around him hard.

"My sweetheart gonna come again? That's it baby," his words are soft, juxtaposed against his ruthless drives into your sodden heat.

You clench even harder if that were possible, fingers winding into his hair and pulling hard. Eddie grunts in satisfaction at the gesture as he bites his lip. His pleasured face pushes you over the edge, falling into the deepest depths of your orgasm, moaning your release to the heavens.

"What a fucking good girl" He groans, releasing your leg so he can grab both of your hands, holding them above your head as he pumps out his release deep inside. You feel the throb of it which gives you that extra wave of pleasure.

Lips crash into each other, arms pulling tight, the need to be closer palpable.

You're kissing, and kissing, until an unexpected ringing brings you both out of your post sex daze.

Is it the phone in the room? Who knows you're here? Panic sets itself deep behind your eyes. Maybe your parents had tracked you down?

Eddie must sense your unease as he shushes you gently, planting a soft kiss to your forehead which helps release some of your tension.

He gets up, pads naked over to the phone and picks it up as you tug the bedsheet around you.

"Hello?"

You hear the scratchy sound of a shitty phone line, no real words, just noise. Eddie starts smirking bizarrely, twisting the cord with one finger.

"Of course. We'll keep it down. Sorry."

Replacing the receiver with a click his grin spreads further as he looks at you.

"Reception said they had two noise complaints, and asked us to be a little quieter."

"Oh my God." Your cheeks flush with heat as you pull the blanket higher up to hide, only your eyes and the top of your head visible.

"Don't be embarrassed." He says, laughing.

"Easy for you to say, you're proud of yourself!"

He pulls the cover down to get at your mouth, kissing you softly, and breathes the words on your cheek.

"Yeah, maybe a little."

Giggling, you slap his arm and he pulls you in for a squeeze of a hug, strong arms pinning yours to the side.

"Hey, I've got a young, hot fiancée, I'm allowed to be a little cocky."

********************

The first thing you noticed about Vegas was the noise. It was early afternoon but the place was a bustling hive of activity; loud chatting groups of excited tourists mingled with the cries of people pushing pamphlets and coupons into their hands. The dings and crashes and tinny music blaring from casinos, along with the honks of car horns and engines, and the weird and wonderful racket of street performers all blended into an overwhelming cacophony which filled your brain like some sort of drug. You could understand how people could get lost in the pull of it; hours, days passing in a place that never sleeps.

The hotel you were staying in was at least better than the motel, but it was still a little… odd. Only dumping bags and running you had little time to take in your surroundings, but what you did see made you laugh. There was an actual stuffed tiger in the lobby, along with several pieces of erotic art. The weirdness didn't stop there; the massive mirror over the circular bed in your room piqued your interest, as well as the sparkly wallpaper and fake zebra skins on the floor. Not that any of it mattered. You and Eddie were getting married, and that was at the forefront of your mind the whole time.

Mr and Mrs Munson. Mr and Mrs Munson.

Stupid things were making you panic. You needed to practise your new signature. You would have to change your passport. Why your brain was focusing on the craziest things, you had no idea. Chalking it up to pre wedding jitters, you walk arm in arm with your future husband, eyes seeking out the next goal: a wedding dress.

A glitzy store with full glass frontage and brass fixtures caught your eye, and you stopped to look at the dresses in the window. It wasn't a bridal boutique by any means, but the gowns in the window were more tasteful than any you had walked past in the hour or so you'd been searching.

"This, this is the place." You halt in front of the shop, squeezing Eddie's hand.

"OK, let's go."

"No." You say forcefully, placing your palm on his chest. He looks at you confused, and a little hurt, but doesn't say a word.

"You can't see it, it's bad luck!" You explain as his features give way to a smile.

"Fine, you win. I'll find a Chapel. Anything I should know before I do?" He asks, cocking his head with the question.

"Yes. Please, no fat Elvis impersonators. I wouldn't be able to keep a straight face."

"You sure? Don't wanna be married by The King?"

Your scrunched up face makes Eddie laugh, throwing his head back. "OK, I get that. I'll find somewhere… tasteful. Well, I'll try to." He smirks, placing a card in your hands.

"What's this?"

"My credit card. Go nuts sweetheart."

A lump firms in your throat at the level of trust. Despite that, it just doesn't feel right.

"Eddie, I can't accept this."

"You don't have a choice. Just take it, I'll feel better knowing you ain't counting pennies. Honestly, it's cool. This way you can get what you want."

Shoulders slumping in defeat, you give in, accepting the card and slipping it into your pocket.

"Now, wait for me here. I don't wanna lose you."

He plants a kiss on your forehead and walks off.

Inside the shop, you know Eddie giving you his credit card was the right choice. It even smells expensive. The woman waiting for customers greets you with an enormous smile, and you explain what you are looking for. After a little search and a try on, you leave the shop with your dress, new shoes, and even a small veil from another place the store sent out for. You were ready.

Eddie finds you twenty minutes later, with a love sick grin on his face.

"I found somewhere, I think you'll like it. So, you find what you need?"

"Yeah, I'm good" You smile back, handing him his card.

"You can keep hold of it sweetheart."

"Nooooo" you say with feeling, forcing it into his hand, "that's just fucking dangerous."

He laughs and takes your hand in his, ushering you into a waiting taxi.

The cab pulls up to an unassuming building, pastel pink stucco covering the outside, along with a tiny steeple and fake bell. Taking a deep breath, you walk in, Eddie's hand firmly in the small of your back to guide you. At this point, you'd let him guide you anywhere.

They know you are coming, the smiling ladies at the desk, and one of them leaps up in a cloud of perfume and blonde hair, leading you away immediately.

"Heard all about you, so lovely to meet you! We've got somewhere for you to change, just come with me!"

She introduces herself as Brenda, and leads you to a tiny back room with a full length mirror and a clothes rail and insists on helping you with your dress. She's talking a mile a minute, helping you to calm your nerves.

"Oh he is handsome isn't he! And you are just lovely, I can see why he likes you. And the way he looks at you! Oh it's just so lovely. Let me help you with the zip honey. Oh, aren't you just a vision! Do a twirl, that's it, just perfect! You ready?"

Am I ready?

You stare at your reflection; the last time you'll look at yourself single. Butterflies dance in your belly, but searching your feelings you know it's excitement and not nerves. You want this; you can feel deep in your soul that this is the right decision. Staring down at your engagement ring, your birthstone ring, and his mother's ring on your thumb on the other hand, you smile.

"I'm ready."

With a final spritz of perfume at your retreating back, Brenda waves you off and you walk into the room where you will marry the love of your life.

The wedding march plays on a creaky organ as you walk down the short aisle.

As your gaze lands on Eddie, your heart beats in your throat. He's wearing that tailored suit of his, but a white shirt now hugs his torso. No tie, as you could have predicted, but a sprig of cornflowers is tucked into his suit jacket pocket.

Something blue.

It makes you smile, and cements the fact that this is right. He couldn't have known you'd pick a blue dress for the same reason, but here you were, matching.

Your beautiful satin gown mirrored the powder blue in the flower, flared slightly at the waist to sit gently on your knee. The tasteful neckline scooped, sitting at your chest with an elegant fold. You had blue paper flowers interwoven in your hair, with a net veil tucked backwards away from your face.

Your eyes never left him for a second. Vision locked, you stared at him pouring every ounce of your love into your gaze with each step you took towards him. Eddie's eyes seemed glassy. Was he about to cry? The thought made tears of your own well up.

Reaching the end, you stop and face him.

"Something blue huh?" You whisper, nodding at his flower accompaniment.

"Something blue" He smiles, gesturing at your dress. "You look incredible."

Keening at the praise, you look down for the first time and notice his heavy black biker boots.

He shuffles uncomfortably in place.

"I, er, forgot my shoes."

"It's perfect. Very you." Smiling, you grasp his hand, and nod at the officiary in front of you.

The officiary goes through the vows, up until it's time for the rings.

The rings! How could I forget the rings?!

Eddie's small smile is enough to calm you, as he reaches into his inside pocket and hands you a simple white gold band. He's holding a matching one.

You flash a warm smile at him, one he reciprocates with a disarming wink. This is the man you fell for; always ready, fixing a situation, making everything OK with just a glance.

The service ends quickly. They must have a quota to meet or something as before you know it, you are ushered outside and another couple are making their forever I Do's.

"So, what now, Mr Munson?" You ask, threading your arms around his waist.

"Hmmm, whatever Mrs Munson wants" He replies, nudging his nose with yours.

The giggle that bubbles out of your mouth comes unbidden and doesn't seem to want to stop.

"I think we should drink to our happily ever after, don't you?"

"OK" he sighs, "one drink. Then, hotel. I wanna consummate this thing right now."

The giggle turns into belly laughs as you respond, "I bet you do. But first a toast!"

********************

Well. It turns out, Vegas gives a lot of things to newlyweds. A free steak dinner, some free spins, and free drinks. A lot of free drinks. The afternoon had bled into late evening, and your cheeks hurt from the permanent smile etched on your face.

You both stumble towards the rented room and open it with a key card on the third attempt. Making your way into the room, Eddie stops you in your tracks.

"No, I gotta do this right" He mutters, as he lifts you up and cradles you in his arms to cross the threshold.

"Eddie!" You shriek, wiggling in his arms as he lifts you into the room, banging the door shut with his foot.

Eddie places you less than gracefully on the bed, the mattress wobbling under your weight. He hovers over you, looking distressed for a moment.

"Fuck" He says, almost defeated, his knee forcing your legs apart.

"What?"

"I used all my moves on you. Dunno what to do" He huffs into your neck, the hot air making you shiver.

"You silly bastard" you laugh, grabbing at his arms in a futile attempt to pull him in.

"No, 'sgot to be special!" He whines childishly.

"Eddie…" you attempt to get his attention, but he continues to look distraught, lips dragging soft and sloppy kisses over your neck. Inhibitions have truly left the building; the alcohol, eloping, and the feel of his hands all over you had you feeling rebellious.

"Well, you can always- stick it in my ass."

The statement pulls him out of his overcome revelry and lifts his head to gape at you, soft brown eyes trying to judge if you're being serious or not.

"Huh??"

"Well, you want to. You said it before. It'll… mark the occasion." You smirk at him, lifting your dress over your head and discarding it on one of the garish rugs in the room.

Pretty underwear displayed, Eddie's eyes rake over your frame. All barely there light blue lace hugs your curves. His gaze covets your physique, roaming up and down your body with reckless abandon.

"Well, you want to?" You ask, turning around beneath him so that your ass is pointing at him, almost wiggling in anticipation.

"Ooh you dirty fuckin' girl" He breathes out, quickly freeing himself of his suit jacket and shirt.

The rough pull of his hands forcing your hips up elicits a squeak from you, and before you know it he's running his tongue across your clothed pussy, dragging it up and up, and over your hole. Whimpering at the new sensation, you find yourself pushing back unconsciously onto his tongue.

"Fuck, my dirty girl. My dirty wife."

Suddenly he hooks his tongue into the flimsy stripe of your panties, and you feel it against your bare ring. The sensation is new; different but very welcome. Moaning wantonly, your fingers grip onto the bed sheets.

Eddie wrestles your underwear off you then, roughly working them down your thighs and off. Your bra goes too, flung into the abyss. Manhandling you back into position, your ass unceremoniously up in the air, he massages your cheeks with coarse hands.

"Legs wider for me, sweetheart."

You shuffle your knees, starting to feel self conscious in your position, but it's not good enough.

"I said wider."

A sharp smack to your ass takes you entirely by surprise, buzzing over your skin. A moan comes out of you at the sensation.

"I think she likes that!" You can hear the smile in his voice. You move your knees further out to accommodate him. The lack of sound coming from him is making you feel uncomfortable, until you feel a soft kiss, just a simple brush of his lips against the cheek he just struck.

"So fuckin' beautiful."

He's licking into you then, tongue breaching your hole as he slips a finger deep into your cunt.

"Oh fuck, Eddie!"

It feels so messy, so naughty; the wet noises of Eddie's wiggling tongue, and of his thick finger pulling squelching sounds from deep within are loud and salacious. He hums satisfaction into you, the vibration driving you wild. The need is throbbing from you, your clit twitching at nothing.

It's almost getting too much to take, his incessant movements making you feral with desires.

"Eddie, please!"

You expect teasing from him, a sarcastic comment, a pouting voice, but nothing comes. You just feel the emptiness of his tongue and finger exiting you, leaving you clenching at nothing. Then, the sound of his belt, clear as a bell. There's rustling, and a very quiet 'fuck'.

"What's wrong Eddie?" You ask, trying to look over your shoulder.

"Forgot my boots" He laughs, as he frantically tries to rid himself of his pants, boxers and boots in one go. You giggle at his eagerness.

All laughter stops however when you feel him release a globule of spit directly on your hole. It has you clenching around nothing, thighs clenching at the seediness of it all.

Then, his arms are on either side of your shoulders as he crowds over you, bare skin sliding on your back, his cock pushed between your legs. Hot breath fans the shell of your ear; his wavy hair tickling your neck.

"You sure you wanna do this, pretty girl?"

"Yes, please Eddie."

He kisses your cheek, then your shoulder, soft, loving kisses that make your insides melt.

"You tell me if it's too much sweetheart."

Kneeling up, he lines himself up with your hole, spitting down again at where you are so close to being joined, and pushes against you.

The tip slides in and you gasp. It's not painful as such, just uncomfortable. Eddie's large hand strokes down your back, soothing you.

"Just relax sweetheart."

Heeding his words, you breathe through your nose and out through your mouth.

"Look at you, doing such a good job. I'm gonna go further, OK?"

"Y-yeah" you manage, the praise fluttering in your tummy. As he softly caresses your back with his hand, he pushes his length into you slowly, until he's fully seated inside.

"Fuuuck… so tight sweetheart, holy shit."

His breathing is laboured, both hands now grasping onto your hips for dear life.

You feel… full. Not unpleasantly so. As you relax around his length, your pussy begins to flutter in the absence of attention. A mixture of your slick and his spit is wetting your thighs, a cooler contrast to the heat throbbing inside you.

"Eddie, you can move."

"No I fucking can't" He half laughs, though it sounds slightly strained as he's stroking your skin.

"Eddie!"

"OK, OK," he mumbles, pulling out slightly and pushing back in. The feeling is odd, foreign, but with each thrust it pushes the sensations into those of pleasure. You're moaning now, losing yourself in it as pressure mounts in your abdomen.

"Fuck" Eddie's hips stutter slightly, "forgot about the ceiling mirror."

He stops for a moment, clearly losing himself in staring at the two of you conjoined in your sinful position. From here, you couldn't see even if you tried, and the heat pooling from you, the pulsating need, is taking over. So, you push back on his cock, moving your own hips back and forth, chasing your release.

"Holy shit, look at you, think I married a fuckin' porn star, fuck"

His grip tightens again as he thrusts into you harder, grunting with the effort.

Your climax is hurtling towards you violently, the force of it shaking you from the inside out.

"Eddie, Oh I'm gonna- I'm cumming!"

You explode, liquid fire running in your veins, pulsing out with each roll of Eddie's hips. It doesn't burn, how could it? You're barely there, floating to the heavens on a cloud of ecstasy.

"Sweetheart, gripping me too tight, w-where-"

"Inside, please baby, cum inside me I wanna feel it!"

Eddie releases in you with one final powerful thrust. The throb of his orgasm extends your own, wildfire licking at each nerve ending in immeasurable waves.

Finally, you slump into the mattress, sweating and spent. Eddie flops on top of you, peeling away the hair that had stuck to your neck.

"You alright there princess?"

"Yeah" you breathe out, "didn't think it was gonna be that good. I think I left my body for a second there."

He chuckles, slipping out of you and rolling onto the bed. You lie next to him, snuggled contentedly into his chest. You glance up and see your two bodies entwined, legs wrapped up in each others, fitting together like perfect puzzle pieces.

"The mirrors a bit creepy."

"That's a shame, I kinda want one now."

You giggle, lightly smacking his chest.

"Pervert."

"Hmm, now, who was the one who was begging for a dick in the ass?"

"Eddie!" You shriek, embarrassed.

"Just saying. We're both perverts. Wanna take a shower, Mrs Munson?"

"Only if you join me, Mr Munson."

You feel the smile on his lips as he presses them against your forehead.

"See? Pervert."

********************

Your stomach is tied tight into a clump of a knot, stressed strands intermingling and tugging on your organs. You try to breathe, feeling the tension in your head subside slightly, but it's still there. Glancing over at Eddie in the driver's seat he gives you a small smile and a reassuring pat on your knee, rough thumb brushing encouragement. It helps.

You're parked outside Eddie's house, having driven back after a couple of days of marital bliss, but now the real world is knocking. Eddie had to go back to the shop to check on things, and you need to talk to your parents.

"You can do it, I know you can" Eddie whispers softly.

"Yes, I can. Come on."

Setting your jaw in determination, you reach out for the handle to let yourself out of the truck.

Both of you stand on the sidewalk, his hand firmly grasped in yours.

"Are you sure you want me to come with you?" Eddie looks worried, discomfort evident. No surprise considering what happened the last time he saw your dad.

"Yes, definitely. They need to know we're serious. Let's go."

He lets you lead the way across the street and outside your parents house. Both cars are in the driveway, a good indication that your mom and dad are both home. Taking one final deep breath, you knock on the door.

The door opens a crack, and your mom's face appears. Then it's flung open wide crashing in the frame and she's crushing you in a bone crunching embrace.

"Oh thank God you're safe I was so worried! Honey I'm so sorry, come in, come in!"

She's dragging you inside and Eddie sheepishly follows just behind you. Her hands are cradling your face, as if she's looking for signs of pain.

"Mom, I'm OK. I'm great. I'm happy" You reassure her with a tight smile, pulling her hands down to her sides. It's as if she just notices Eddie is there, eyes flitting between you two as you grasp his hand firmly again. For your strength, as well as his.

"Honey, you know all I want is for you to be happy. If he's the man you want, I'll stand by-"

Her encouraging words are cut off by the gruff tones of your father from the kitchen.

"Is that her?" He booms, and you jump slightly, trying to will the confidence that you just held back into your spine.

He appears then, cheeks an angry red, the stern look set into his face slightly marred by the tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

"Now Mick, we discussed-"

Your mom begins but he moves her aside to try and step towards you. His eyes quickly move to Eddie but you stand in front of him like a shield.

"You can get out of my house right now!"

"Dad, can we just-"

He points a finger at you, eyes dragging away from Eddie and towards you again.

"Now you listen here young lady-"

"No!"

It comes out loud, louder than you expected it to. Shock emanates from him in waves as he stares at you open mouthed.

Softer, you continue.

"No. You listen. You've said enough and you've not let me speak, through any of this."

Your father attempts to regain composure. The accusing finger is laid to rest, and he nods at you. Taking it as the best sign you can, you finally have your say.

"I'm not a kid anymore. I'm a woman. I can make my own decisions, and I've decided. I love Eddie. I love him with all my heart. He's the one for me, now and always."

Eddie doesn't say anything; he's letting you have your moment, so he just places his hand on your shoulder and squeezes. You reach up with your own hand, your left hand, and squeeze right back. Mom's eyes widen when she notices the rings.

"I want you to accept this, to accept us. This happened, whether you like it or not. Eddie's a good man, you know he is. I love you all. Please don't make me choose between you, because-" biting back tears, you try and stay strong, "because I'll always choose my husband."

The silence is loaded and deafening. All you can hear is your own heart hammering in your ears.

Your dad's voice breaks the quiet. It's low, bordering on a whisper.

"So… this is serious then?"

You can't help it, a laugh barks out of your chest before you can contain it, the release of emotion allowing a tear to run down your cheek.

"You could say that."

"Honey, I- come here." Your father opens his arms to you and you fall into them, tears tumbling freely down your face. He's crying then too, bubbling sobs that he buries into your hair.

"I'm so sorry honey, so sorry" He blubbering, wet apologies spilling from his mouth like a dam has burst. "You're my little girl, I just w-wanted to p-protect you."

You shush him, rubbing his back.

"I know dad, I know."

He finally releases you from his grip, wiping tears furiously from his face.

Eddie steps around you, holding his hand out to your father. He takes it in his, and then grasps it with the other as well, holding it firmly as he looks him in the eyes.

"You love my daughter?"

"More than anything." Eddie says emphatically. Your dad nods, but doesn't let go.

"You promise to take care of her, make her happy?"

It feels like you're saying your vows all over again, only this time it's to become part of the family.

"I promise Mick. I'd do anything for her."

Your father pulls him forward suddenly, taking Eddie by surprise. He whispers something in his ear, and envelops him into a crushing embrace.

You look over to your mom. Tears are cascading down her cheeks and she grabs onto you for dear life.

"You're married?! I didn't get a chance to buy a hat!" Your laughs and tears intermingle at that, smiling broadly.

After a few more hugs and tears, you excuse yourself, going upstairs to collect yourself and freshen up. Two minutes later, Eddie's barging in, clearly forgetting how to knock again. Not that you care anymore. You're in each other's arms immediately, his large hand stroking the back of your head.

"Well, that went better than last time."

You laugh, nodding agreement. Pulling away to look at him, you can't help but ask.

"What did my dad whisper to you?"

He chuckles back and fills you in.

"Something along the lines of, 'if you break her heart I'll break both your legs.' "

"Wow, extreme."

"Fuckin' fair if you ask me sweetheart."

His lips are on yours, soft plush pillowed against you.

"I gotta go to the shop, sort some stuff out. Oh, and get a key cut."

You tilt your head at him. "A key?"

"For you, for your new home. Our home."

Your tears brim with tears anew.

"You want me to move in, what, straightaway?"

"Hmm lemme think" He says, index finger dramatically tapping his chin. "Hell yes?"

You don't answer. You don't have to. You just fling yourself into his arms and kiss him over, and over, and over.

********************

Tag List (Thank you for all of your support it means so much to me)

@hereforshmut @g4ys0n @winchester-angel @eddiemunson95 @corrodedcoffincumslut @shazzie33 @severusswife @daluamaia1 @callsignraver @lightvixxen @newlips @eddiethefreakkmunson @ali-r3n @bebe07011 @roanniom @eddiesprincess86 @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @daisyridleyyyy @lolalanaie @dandelionnfluff @latedawnsearlysunsets92 @luv-flor7777 @topaz1983 @pixxie2004 @harmfulb1tch @findmeincorneliastreet @eddies-puppet @fertilitygodkiszka @freshsagegarden @josephquinnsfreckles

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citruswriter · 7 months ago

Note

Imagine Leo brushing his partners tail and just overall grooming them

Tender Moments/Realizing Your In Love

Listen in with me! ↠ⁿᵉˣᵗ ˢᵒⁿᵍ ↺ ʳᵉᵖᵉᵃᵗ ⊜ ᵖᵃᵘˢᵉ

A/N: Please this is so fucking cute. I adore this. Also I'm thinking about adding a polyam section for these between Reader and ALL the turtles? Should I do it? I feel like there's not a lot of Reader x Polyam!Turtles.

Previous Part

Today had been a long day. Work had been a bitch and you were sore all over. "I really should go take a shower and change clothes..." You muttered to yourself as you went to go flag down a taxi. Your phone buzzed with a notification. You opened your phone to see that you had a message from your favorite turtle. "Hey (Y/N)! You wanna hang?" The message read. Chewing your lip, you texted back. "Idk. Today was super stressful. I kinda wanna take a shower and relax." You felt bad but today really wasn't the day. A text back buzzed your hand and you checked your messages once more. "Hey that's ok. We can just hang out in my room today. You can take a shower here if you want". You bit your lip and smiled, he was so sweet. "Ugh. Fine. You've won me over. See you in a bit". You texted back, smiling softly to yourself as you flagged down a taxi.

When you got to the lair, you waved hello at the others before beelining to your favorite turtle's room. "I was promised a shower?". You questioned.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Leonardo x Reader 🧡

Warnings: Reader is a wolf neko, Reader has golden eyes, Reader is straight/wavy hair coded in this post.

"Towels already in the bathroom and I got you some soap." He said gently and you just gave him big ole puppy eyes of appreciation. "Thank you!" You squeaked and you went to go shower. You sighed as the hot water collided with your skin, washing away the stressful day that you had. Before you knew it, the water was running cold and you had to get out. You grabbed the spare set of clothes you always kept in your backpack, slipping on your underwear and sweatpants. You dug into your bag more before frowning. "Hey Leo?" You called out and he hummed in respond. "I think I forgot to pack a shirt, you got one I can borrow?" You asked and Leo got up off his bed, setting his book down to do some digging. "Yeah but be warned, it'll be big on you." He said before handing you a loose heathered blue shirt. You thanked him with a laugh and slipped it on. "There we go. All better." You said, stepping out and smiling up at the turtle. Leo smiled down at you, enjoying the view of you in his t-shirt. You couldn't help but blush and look away shyly.

"Want me to groom you?" He asked softly and you blink back up at him in surprise, not expecting the question. "Oh well... Sure I guess so." You said and you went to sit on Leo's bed. Leo grabbed a brush for your hair and a brush for your fur before sitting down on the bed behind you. Grabbing the hair brush he gently brushed your hair, working around any tangles you had with tender care. You closed your eyes and enjoyed the care your hair was receiving. Eventually he put the hair brush down before getting the fur brush. He started on your ears and you sat very still, unsure of what to make of the feeling. It felt... nice. "All done with your head," he murmured and you flicked your ears softly. "Can I brush your tail?" He asked and you nodded, giving consent. Leo gently grabbed your tail and began to brush it with the fur brush, getting all the loose fur out. You hummed in delight and tried to keep your tail still but the feeling was so wonderful you wanted to wag it. "Thank you, Leo. I really needed this today." You muttered and you felt Leo rub your shoulders softly before pulling you closer to him to cuddle.

You got all comfy before looking up at him. "You're so sweet to me, Leo." You said before nuzzling into him. Leo wrapped an arm around you and you couldn't help but wag your tail softly, relaxing into his embrace and breathing his scent in. "Can you read out loud to me?" You asked gently, you just wanted to hear his voice... Leo looked down at you with tender care and you swore you felt butterflies erupt in your tummy, heat crawling up your cheeks. What was this feeling? You wanted him to hold you, to care for you, to always be this tender with you. As he read out loud to you, you read along in your mind with him, hand splaying out onto his plastron at some point. "You hungry, blossom?" Leo's voice came and you looked up at him, coming to terms with what you were feeling. "Yeah I could go for some food. Thank you, dear." You said softly.

Love. That's what you were feeling. Soft, tender love.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Raphael x Reader 🧡

Warnings: Reader is a cat neko, Reader is curly hair coded.

Raph looked up at you and nodded his head towards the bathroom, more focused on his knitting. You made your way and turned on the water, waiting until it was the right temperature before stepping in. As the water washed over you you noticed shampoo and conditioner. Obviously he didn't need it, he must have gotten it for you. You smiled and you felt your heart flutter at his kind gesture. Taking your time to shower, you thought about the man. He had grown on you quite a lot over these past few months and you were starting to think that maybe you were starting to feel a sort of new feeling for him... Stepping out, you dug around for a towel before finally finding one. Drying off you dug through you bag. Oh shit. "Hey Raphie? I forgot a shirt, you got one I can borrow?" You asked, annoyed with yourself. "I'm sure I've got one somewhere," he called back as you heard him get off his bed and shuffle around. "Found one". He said as he stuck his hand into the bathroom. "Thank you, my dear." You said, grabbing the shirt and putting it on with your boy shorts before stepping out. "My dear is new". He said casually, sitting back down on his bed as he looked over at you with a smirk, eyeing you as he enjoyed the way you looked in his shirt.

I wouldn't mind you being mine. You thought before making your way to the bed with a roll of your eyes. "Can I do your hair?" He asked suddenly and you blinked at him, looking at the hair products he had on his dresser that you hadn't noticed earlier. "Sure Raphie". You cooed softly, sitting so your back was to him. Raph grabbed the hair cream first, spreading some onto his palms before scrunching it into your hair. I hope I'm doing this shit right. He thought before carrying on with the rest of the routine. When he was done he grabbed a bonnet and he tilted your head back so he could get all your hair in it "Hi". You said gently, making eye contact with him as he wrapped the bonnet around your hair and tying the straps around your hair. "Hey..." He said back softly, gently grasping your cheek. You should kiss me. You thought to yourself. A look of realization flashed across Raph's eyes and he pulled back. "I got this cat brush thing." He muttered, trying to ignore the heat creeping up his cheeks. "Wanna brush my tail then?" You asked, lifting it into the air for him to grab.

Raph grabbed the brush and gently held your tail, brushing the fur. You hummed in relaxation, allowing a purr to erupt from your throat. "This is nice. I needed this." You said aloud. Raph, tugged you closer to him to hold you. "I'd like to do your hair again sometime. If that's ok". He asked softly and you leaned up against his plastron, still purring as did your best to steal his body heat. "Sure. If you want. You did really well with my post shower hair routine." You replied and Raph grinned softly to himself as he grabbed his knitting. "How do you do that, by the way? Knitting?" You asked and Raph looked down at you. "Want me to teach you?" He asked. Before you knew it, you were all curled up in his lap as he was teaching you how to knit. What a lovely way to spend the afternoon.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Donatello x Reader 🧡

Warnings: Reader is a moth mutant, Reader is straight/wavy hair coded, Reader wears a bra.

"Already got everything set up for you. Just gotta turn in the water." He said with his cute little smile. Your heart squeezed at seeing his precious smile. "You should smile more often, it's cute." You said before heading to the bathroom. Everything being set up was correct as you found a set of your favorite soaps on the bathroom counter. Your heart swelled with adoring appreciation. You poked your head out of the bathroom to look at him. "Did you really get me my favorite soaps for here?" You asked and Donnie rubbed the back of his neck bashfully. "Y-Yeah. I hope that was ok." He said and you just ran out and hugged him. "You are literally so amazing. Thank you, Dee." You said with big thankful doe eyes. Donnie felt his heart melt as he hugged you back. "Of course, dove." He said, suppressing a happy chur. Giggling you went back into the bathroom to wash off.

The water washed away the days stress and worries and you felt so much better as you stepped out. Dressing you realized that you forgot a shirt. Thats ok, at least I brought a bra. You thought. Stepping out in your black sweat pants and purple bra, Donnie almost choked on his juice when he saw you. "Hey Dee can you help me? My wings are still wet. Usually I get April to dry them but it's just us so can you help?" You asked, gently wringing your hair out before using the water from your hair to groom your antenna. You sat in front of him, handing him a dry washcloth, before spreading your wings. Donnie took his time patting your wings dry, gently touching them at times to move them this way or that. "There. A-All done." He said and you fluttered your wings softly before closing them. "Thank you. They feel much better." You said softly. Before he could think, Donnie's fingers found your hair. It was so soft... He began to take the damp hair and braid it into a simple but neat braid. "Need a hair tie?" You asked, slipping one off your wrist and holding it up for him. Donnie only hummed in response, taking the hair tie from you to finish his braid.

Giggling you patted the braid and turned around to look at him. "Why thank you, Donatello. I feel very pretty now." You mused, batting your eyelashes up at him. "I'm glad I could make you feel pretty, dove." He replied bashfully and you couldn't help but lean up and kiss his cheek. "You always make me feel pretty, Dee." You cooed, making the purple terrapin blush up a storm. "You wanna hang out in the lab?" You asked, tilting your head. You knew how much he loved tinkering away in his lab. "Actually I was thinking we could just hang in here today." He offered and you smiled at him. "I'd love to, Donnie." You said with a moth squeak. Grabbing your phone you went to cozy up beside him but he grabbed you and placed you in his lap, arm wrapping around you as he took out a sketchbook of his to draw. It was quiet but the two of you enjoyed your time together with your parallel play. It was nice.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Michaelangelo x Reader 🧡

Warnings: Reader has long feathered wings, Reader has long elf-like ears, Reader wears a bra, Readers called lil mama.

Mikey jumped up and hugged you. "Absolutely. I got some stuff for you too. Some soaps n stuff." He said and you grinned at him, hugging him back. "You're too kind to me, love." You murmured back, heart fluttering before placing a gentle kiss on his shoulder. The orange banded turtle nearly burst on the inside at the sweet gesture as he watched you walk into the bathroom with a dreamy sigh.

You took your time washing your body and hair, the hot water seeming to wash away all your worries off of you and down the drain. Twenty minutes later and your stepping out, relaxed and squeaky clean. Drying off, you fluff up your wings to help dry them. "Hey Mikey, wanna help dry my wings? You can preen them after if you want." You called out from the bathroom. Mikey, not tearing his eyes off his gaming screen just called back, "Yeah I'd love to, angelcakes!" You dug through your bag to grab your clean clothes but opted out of fully dressing, instead opting to just wear a bra and boxers. "Fantastic because drying your own wings can be a bitch at times." You muttered, walking out with your towel. "Well hey there lil mama." Mikey said, eyeing the black boxers and autumn orange bra. "Don't even think about it Mikey". You said, grinning at him as you tossed him the towel and sat in front of him on the bed and relaxed as he patted down your wings. Fluffing them up again when he finished drying them, he wasted no time with starting his task of preening your feathers. When he was done he poked your shoulder and gave a "all done". You stretched your wings before folding them once more.

"Thank you so much, Mikey. You're too good to me." You cooed, turning around so you could wrap your arms around his neck and hug him. "Anything for you, angel". He said with a grin, pulling you into his lap where you remained as he played his video games. Occasionally, Mikey would rub your hip or your wings, making you hum softly and squirm. At one point, Mikey rested his head on your shoulder and you could help but notice the butterflies in your tummy. Such a wonderful thing, love is.

Screaming why did this take so long to write bruh?

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generational-atrophy · 1 year ago

Text

hetalia axis & allies (+ canada) xmas headcanons

1.6k words ~ gender neutral headcanons

tw: uhhh christmas obviously. mention of religion and underwear?? uh... i think that's it

a/n: this is my first christmas as a jewish convert so that's been weird. anyway I just wanted something quick, so its mostly a list of gift ideas (:

America

Alfred is SUCH a huge Christmas fan. I mean, canonically he dresses up as Santa, so he goes all out for the entire month of December. He's been working on a huge holiday home display for decades, and it shows.

He plays Santa at his local mall during the weeks leading up to Christmas; and on the night of, he hands out hot cocoa outside his house. It's fun, but it also means he's a little distracted when it comes to you.

What he would get you: Posters of your favourite movies, super comfy pyjamas, expensive figures of characters you like, candy you like but never get for yourself, model planes or Legos for you two to build together, novelty pens, a stupid cowboy costume so you can match <3, those handmade coupons because he 1. Loves you and 2. Forgot about Christmas until yesterday

What he would want: Any video games, Funko Pops, vinyls of music he likes, those big packs of shirts (he is constantly running out of shirts because he rips or irreparably stains them,) Marvel comics, anything with an eagle on it, those mini wacky waving inflatable tube men things, bulk pens and pencils because he also breaks those constantly-

England

Arthur is not big into Christmas and never has been. He'll celebrate with you, but he's not going out when it comes to any aspect. If anything, he finds it a little exhausting getting gifts for everyone

But, he does adore walking around and looking at all the lights. He'll do that a couple times with you in December.

What he would get you: Any novel you’ve mentioned even once, tickets to a concert both of you will enjoy, classy jackets that fit you perfectly, cute keychains, fancy art supplies, fragrances that remind him of you, bags/purses that fit your style, CDs

What he would want: Sewing supplies (thread, new needles, new fabric scissors,) framed photos of the two of you, Doctor Who merch, foreign tea, a book on how to take care of your eyebrows properly (he will not learn otherwise,) slippers, those sarcastic magnets that all millennial women have at least one of, any ridiculous piece of merch with the union jack on it

France

Francis has very mixed feelings about Christmas. On one hand, he hates how consumerist it has become, but on the other hand, nothing makes him happier than seeing the joy the season brings to others.

Plus, he does enjoy giving and receiving presents. The music too? Wonderful. As long as you don't get too stressed out, the holiday should be perfect.

What he would get you: Tons of clothes; stuff that's already your style, and completely new stuff, room decorations (NOT posters,) a reservation at a nice restaurant, bracelets that he made for you, makeup (if you like that kind of thing,) candles that smell like his cologne, CHEESE

What he would want: Fancy fabric, any clothes (he doesn’t care what they are as long as you think they’d look good on him…) paintings or photography, literally ANYTHING creative you’ve made, hair ties (he loses at least 5 a day,) bird stuffed animals, (Basically anything! Francis is not picky)

China

Christmas is a new occurrence for Yao, and he isn't the biggest fan. He'll buy you stuff for it, but he would do that normally. The lights and the music aren't anything special to him either. Basically, he won't celebrate unless you want to.

What he would get you: Elaborate, very expensive jewellery, huge stuff like a car, Chinese cookbooks, traditional clothes that he made specifically to represent you (: luxury handbags (that he got at SUCH a good discount,) tons of weird off-brand merch of your favourite show, probably a nice meal too!

What he would want: Yao is hard to buy for. Soft robes, stuff to help with back pain, face masks, Hello Kitty keychains… reading glasses maybe?

Russia

Although he isn't as excited about Christmas as he is about the New Year, he still loves the holiday. It's a nice excuse to see family, and everyone is just so happy around the season! He's especially excited to celebrate it with you.

He's not the best at giving gifts, but he could be worse. Regardless of whether you like all of it, you're gonna get a lot of stuff.

(Also, he plays Santa for the kids sometimes. It's so cute-)

What he would get you: Random knick-knacks he probably found at a local market, knitted hats and gloves in your favourite colour, a scarf to match his, tickets to go somewhere warm on vacation, stuffed animals! books that made him think of you (usually philosophical or religious novels,) pretty rocks (:

What he would want: SUNFLOWERS! (This works for every occasion,) baked goods, clothes that aren’t 250 years old- new doilies and paintings to decorate his house, pictures of yourself, friendship bracelets, stuffed animals, if you can make a scarf somehow, DO THAT

North Italy

Feliciano cares about Christmas in a more religious way, but he's never mad about getting presents. So, he'll probably spend most of the day in church, but he still did put a lot of effort into getting you stuff you love.

What he would get you: Pajamas & bath robes, shitty romance novels that he wants you to read, weird hand-made knick-knacks, makeup, strange mugs that he found at a thrift store, a painting of you (: probably a pair of his boxers-

What he would want: New paint brushes, novelty pasta shapes, fancy jackets, any art that you’ve made (regardless of quality,) cat stuffed animals, The Ability To Get A Grip, skincare products, shiny garbage (For art purposes, duh,) those handmade coupon things

Germany

Ludwig does not enjoy Christmas particularly. He's terrible at giving gifts but he wants to so desperately that he spends all of winter stressing out about it. Yes, he's excited to see your reaction to his gifts, but at what cost?!

Although he does still like all the decorations at least. Maybe he just likes re-decorating though.

What he would get you: Puzzles you can complete together, soft sweaters, practical stuff you need (like book bags, lens cloths, that kind of thing,) stationery, reservations for private tours at museums you would find interesting, a subscription to whatever silly service you want (:

What he would want: Books about city planning, nerdy card games, a fun lanyard, a new coffee machine, those aroma-therapy diffuser things, household tools like vacuums and stuff (Get him an air fryer. He’s going to be fascinated.) stress balls, pens (He is boring.)

Japan

Kiku really has no particular feelings towards Christmas. If you weren't there, the most he would do was put up a mini tree. He's stressed out by both giving and receiving presents and is only willing to do that kind of thing if you want to.

What he would get you: Electronics, merch of your favourite Sanrio character, books that he thinks you’ll like, stickers, a bento box, comfy sweatpants, cute hairpins, plushies from your favourite media, a bunch of pillows, some obscure Japanese snacks too!

What he would want: Miku figures, posters, video games, manga, general nerdy stuff, history novels (he likes to correct them,) blackout curtains, cute face masks, a Polaroid camera, a guide on socialization (Seriously.) a knit scarf, if you can knit (:

South Italy

Romano desperately wants to care about Jesus more than getting gifts. He's a devout catholic, g*ddamnit! But... he does just really love eating baked goods and getting gifts more than anything. Getting together with family, the music, the lights, he just ADORES the holiday.

What he would get you: Blankets and pillows, your favourite snacks, clothes that are a little more revealing- cruise tickets (if going on wouldn’t be hell for you,) a journal where he wrote down all of the things he loves about you (completely honestly,) religious items, fancy perfumes

What he would want: Paintings from local artists, post-its (so he can finally remember SOMETHING,) anything with the Italian flag on it, stupid bumper stickers, pictures of the other nations that you’ve written insults on, fancy patterned scarves and fabric

Prussia

Like Alfred, Gilbert loves Christmas in a very childish way. He embraces that side of himself during the holidays and he'd love it if you joined him in that. He constantly insists on going out to see the lights, and he just can't get enough of Christmas movies. Even the bad ones (He's a Hallmark girlie.)

What he would get you: A vintage music box, hair dye, DVDs of your favourite movies (just to have,) stationery, random snacks he picked up from a gas station an hour ago, weirdly sentimental jewellery? Vintage journals, pictures of himself

What he would want: Coupons (???) goofy temporary tattoos, metal CDs, tea (he’s weirdly embarrassed about liking tea and doesn’t buy it for himself?) vintage maps that he can frame and hang up, probably like, WD40? DC comics, novelty trophies, Pokemon cards, video games

Canada

More than anything, Matthew loves winter. So, therefore, he loves Christmas! Seeing you smile when you open your gifts, he looks forward to it all season. It seems like the only time of year when everyone else is either as miserable or as happy as he is, so it's his favourite holiday.

Cuddling up in front of the fireplace with hot cocoa, watching some old Christmas movie, its all he wants.

What he would get you: Comfy hoodies, comfy slippers too, hot cocoa packs, big stuff like a new PC or fridge or smth- decorations for your room, face masks, fidget toys, novelty Canadian keychains, figures of your favourite characters, festive sweets (like candy-canes and stuff.)

What he would want: Anything with a maple leaf (yes, he wants MORE of that,) boring stuff like socks, wood-working tools or like a new snow shovel, fairy lights, DVDs (because he still uses them? Why.) a new phone case, gift cards (HES BORING,) pre-packaged crafts, lotion and cologne that smells like pine

merry christmas if you celebrate! this'll probably be the last full thing I post until 2024, so thanks to all you readers for sticking around this year (: you have no idea how much it means to me. i love yall. and to all a good night or whatever santa said

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changingplumbob · 26 days ago

Text

CW: Low level sim spice - Guide to content warnings

Glenn: That was great and I'd love to just go to sleep like a normal person but I think I want to have a quick shower

Silver: *chuckling* Did I get you too messy already

Glenn pulled Silver up to where he could kiss him comfortably.

Glenn: Not at all but sweat tends to make me break out and I don't want to get all crusty

Silver: Fair point, I suppose I should wash up to then so I don't ruin your sheets

Glenn: Oh, you think you're sleeping in my bed do you? Very bold. You can use the washbasin since you're old and I've got dibs on the shower

Silver: I can't join you in the shower?

Glenn: *laughing* Definitely not now if ever, I have a whole washing routine that I am very loyal to

Glenn turned on the water and climbed right in while Silver washed down in the sink. It was amusing watching Glenn shower. He had several songs he would sing while he did it, and seemed to have parts of his routine that tied to particular verses or choruses. When Silver was clean he went back to the room to pull his underwear on and grab Glenn's discarded clothes. Back in the bathroom he closed his eyes and listened to Glenn's singing voice. It wasn't the best he'd heard but it was every bit as adorable as Glenn was.

Glenn: Can you pass my towel Silver

Silver opened his eyes and looked where Glenn was pointing. Grabbing it he went back and started drying Glenn.

Glenn: Uh, what are you doing

Silver: *smiles* Helping

Glenn: Very nice but try not to make me need another shower

Silver: No funny business, I promise

When Glenn was dry and dressed the pair hoped in bed and Glenn cuddled up close to Silver.

Glenn: I'm going to miss you when you're away

Silver: Yeah. Me to

Glenn: Do you think, maybe one day, you won't have to move around all the time? That you'll be okay being still?

Silver: I hope so

Glenn: Well I can wait. I think you're going to be worth it

Silver thought about the best way to reply but before he thought of a response Glenn was asleep. Part of him didn't want to leave, but while he felt safe with Glenn he still felt like he'd been in Willow Creek too long. A lifetime of being pursued by hunters was hard to shake.

In the morning he was extra quiet while he got his things together. Glenn looked so peaceful sleeping, he didn't want to disturb him. He searched the house for a pen and paper but couldn't find any. Did people not write letters anymore or just spellcasters? Taking one last look at Glenn he left, there was no time like the present to figure out the whole texting thing.

When Glenn woke up he wasn't startled at being alone, he normally woke up in an empty bed after all. But as he dozed the memories of the past few days came back, especially last night. Smiling he sat up and looked around but Silver's pack and sleeping bag were gone. He must have left already. Glenn felt a sadness in his heart again but it was different than the sadness after Grayson. While that had been a desolation this was more of a... lonely feeling. He didn't feel abandoned, or unloved, just by himself.

Propping himself up in bed he looked out the window. Despite the clouds it was peaceful today. He thought back on last night and smiled, trying to commit every moment to memory. In the corner one vial glowed pink from the channeled pleasure. That was good, he'd be able to talk to Henri about the potion today then.

*phone buzzes*

I apologise for leaving without a proper goodbye. You looked so peaceful Babycakes I didn't want to wake you up. I hope you enjoyed last night, I'm hoping we can do it again sometime, winky face. I know you told me how to put in a winky face but I forgot. Have a good day, chat tonight? Dearest wishes, Silver

Glenn lent forward in excitement. How to answer? He quickly ruled out chat language because explaining what lol meant would ruin whatever came before it.

That's okay, it takes time to break a habit right? I'll be right here when you get back. Well probably not in bed but still, you get what I mean. Remember to take pictures of the flowers for me okay?

How to sign off? Something flirty? Something proper? Something sincere? Give up and just send a picture of his pixel parts?

Enjoy your day, I can't wait to talk to you tonight and try to teach you the in and outs of emoji. Cuddles, Glenn

Somewhere far away Silver got the text and thought, what on earth is emoji?

A quick locating spell after breakfast told Glenn Henri was currently in the tower. Grabbing the ingredients he needed he headed off.

Glenn: Good morning Henri! Isn't it a great day

Henri: Yeah it is, I- wait, why are you so chipper? Last time I saw you were wrestling over the idea of harvesting pleasure alone. Did you finally figure it out

Glenn: I did yeah, one vial of pleasure, nice and fresh. By my calculations that means I have all the stuff I need for a potion of plentiful needs

Glenn handed the flask over and Henri studied it closely. Slowly a smile spread across his face and he looked up beaming.

Henri: So you found someone to help you eh? That's great! I'm glad you're leaving that other fellow behind you. You're a nice guy Glenn, you deserve good things

Glenn: What? How do you know I didn't just make it myself

Henri: *chuckling* I'm an artist Glenn. I take just as much care with my potion ingredients as I do when I'm making my pastries. The colour of pleasure differs slightly depending on how many people are involved in making it. I mean they're all shades of pink and red but the trained eye can tell them apart

Glenn: So it tells you I was with someone

Henri: And that they were a werewolf. Don't worry, I won't tell the twins if you don't

Glenn: *sighs* Oh I can only imagine their commentary on the matter

Henri: *chuckles* Best not spoken aloud

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#sims 4 #the sims #simblr #my sims #ts4 #active simblr #GWG #GlennSutherland #SilverClawcrestByCawthornTales

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theinkyisles · 22 days ago

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walking contradiction!

If Sora had been sipping on coffee, she might have been the one dumping it all over herself this time. “Nope,” she says, overly-cheerful. Lloyd stares at her for a beat too long and she chuckles nervously. “I, uh- might go check on Arin though. Not- not because he needs to checked-in on, just- doing a nice friendly thing, yep, okay, bye, I’m leaving now.” She slips out of her chair and dashes out of the kitchen. She scowls, smacking the side of her head as soon as she’s out of sight and speed-walking down some hallway she doesn’t find familiar. Idiot, now he’ll definitely be suspicious.

“Ah, damn,” Sora mutters to herself. She pushes her arm further into her duffel bag, rummaging around for a familiar plastic bag. “Are you telling me I forgot it?”

Arin, half-asleep on the mat beside her, murmurs an incomprehensible response. She rolls her eyes and reaches a leg over to prod at his ribs. He grumbles and half-heartedly swats at her foot. “Leamme alone,” he groans, flipping over.

“Come on, dude,” she whines, “I don’t wanna be awake any more than you do.” He waves her away, pulling the blanket Lloyd gave them over his shoulders. She prods him harder, digging her socked foot straight into his ribs.

“Can’t this wait till tomorrow?” he whines, squirming away from her.

“I don’t have antiseptic wipes.”

Arin flops back onto his back, blearily opening a single eye. “Check my bag,” he yawns, “should have something in there.” Sora shoves into his ribs one more time just to be annoying, before rolling to her feet and padding over to Arin’s threadbare backpack set against the wall.

Sora’s careful with the heavily dented zipper, gently tugging it open. “Couldn’t you have, like, pretended to fold your stuff?” she asks over her shoulder, motioning towards the mound of wrinkled shirts absolutely packed into his backpack.

“I don’t know if you were aware,” he says exasperatedly, “but we were a little short on time.”

A random sheathed knife, rusted around the hilt, falls out of the bag as Sora pulls at some of the shirts, and she turns to raise an eyebrow at him. “Enough for your stupid dagger but not enough to fold your underwear.”

Arin grabs the pillow on her sleeping mat and chucks it at her. It lands barely past her mat anyways and Sora sticks out her tongue at him. “Will you just find your stupid wipes and stop making fun of me,” he groans, flopping back and throwing an arm over his eyes.

Sora hums, pretending to think on it. “Nah,” she decides, pulling more shirts from the bag. “You should do laundry to, don’t want your big fancy ninja master thinking you smell.”

“I don’t smell!” he protests. Sora just shrugs and Arin gasps, offended. “I do not!”

“I don’t know, A,” she says passively, finding his pitiful bag of toiletries and sifting through it. “Don’t think I can’t tell when you forget your deodorant.” She sticks her hand in, rummaging around in it.

“You are so mean to me.” Sora peeks over her shoulder, catching eyes with Arin and tilting her head slightly, a silent question. Exhausted as he is, he still grins at her and she smiles back. “Worst best friend ever.”

“Please, you’re lucky you have me,” she cuts back. Her hand buried deep inside his toiletries grabs around, but she doesn’t feel the telltale slick plastic of her antiseptic bag. She frowns and looks inside the bag, tilting it this way and that. Nothing catches her eye and a knot starts forming in her chest.

“What’s up?” Arin asks, sounding startlingly more awake.

“Nothing, I just can’t find…” she trails off, shaking the contents out onto the floor. Travel size soaps spill out but not her baggie of antiseptic wipes. In the corner of her eye, she sees Arin sit up.

“It’s not there?” he asks. “You sure?”

Sora sweeps everything back into the bag, zipping it back up. “If it is, I don’t see it,” she says, giving up and tossing all of Arin’s things back into his backpack with a grunt. They both usually have back-ups upon back-ups of all her stupid supplies.

“Do you want help checking your bag again?” Sora kneels by her duffel bag, half-heatedly picking through the top layer of clothes, but she knows nothing will be there if she checks.

“I don’t know what there is to check,” she mutters frustratedly, “I looked through everything.”

“Even your syringe case?”

“First place I checked.”

Arin hrms softly, folding his legs underneath him. “Soap?”

Sora shakes her head. “Not sterile enough,” she mourns, worrying her lip between her teeth. Arin frowns and leans back on his hands.

“…we could ask Lloyd?”

Sora stares at him. “You mean the guy we just met like…two days ago?”

Arin shrugs sheepishly. “I mean- what’s the harm?” he asks. “We don’t have to tell him why we need them.”

Sora chews on the inside of her cheek, swaying from side to side. “I don’t know, A, we don’t know him that well,” she says quietly. “What if- like-”

Arin makes a face. “You don’t think he’s like- a shitty person, do you?”

Sora sighs, flopping back onto her sleeping mat. “I didn’t wanna bring it up,” she says apologetically, “but you just never know.”

Arin lays down on his mat, curling on his side to face her. He reaches out an arm, leaving his hand in the space between them. “If it helps, I don’t think he’s like that,” he says softly. “I’ve done so much research on this guy, I’m sure I’d have heard if he was like- a cop or something.”

Sora rolls onto her side and grips Arin’s hand within her own. “Anyone can be a cop or something,” she says mimicking his tone of voice. Arin rolls her eyes but Sora’s voice remains serious. “Dude, I’m not joking it’s like- there’s tons of people you can think you know and look up to you and- and you just don’t. You don’t know what they’re like.” LaRue flashes through Sora’s eyes, images of dragons linked up to hundreds of wires and screaming in pain, and she closes her eyes shut, trying to get rid of the vision.

Arin doesn’t say anything, which- he doesn’t agree with her, and that’s fine. The hero worship is a little cute. But with the tenuous peace she’s managed to build since the Merge, she doesn’t need anything being put at risk. Their whole routine in the Crosswords got torn out from under them in a matter of hours. She misses their shared mattress, as worn through as it was. She misses rummaging through the junk yard and bargaining at the markets. She misses slow mornings and figuring out how to spend their days together. Arin misses everything from before the Merge and she’s starting to get it – if what he had was anything like what she gained after everything fractured. It’s slowly slipping through her fingers and she doesn’t wanna lose her identity in the process, just because Arin is putting a little too much faith in the Green Ninja being an actual hero.

Arin continues not to speak, but he rubs his thumb over her skin gently. Her shoulders relax and she squeezes back in response.

But maybe she hasn’t lost anything. She trusts Arin, and she trusts that he won’t let her lose this part of herself for the sake of being a ninja.

“What are you gonna do now?” he asks softly, “without the antiseptic?”

Sora shrugs, not opening her eyes. The reality of it makes her throat close uncomfortably, but she swallows past it. “Skipping a dose won’t kill me.” It won’t, she tells herself again, because truly, she went so many years without the estradiol and the clinician who gave her the stockpile said that as long as she was consistent enough, it would be fine, but….

Arin’s grip on her hand tightens uncomfortably but she must make a face because he loosens it almost instantly. “Sorry,” he whispers.

She means to respond, but the mat beneath her is surprisingly comfortable and the blanket gives a soft cushion. The warmth of Arin’s hand and the rhythmic motion of his thumb gives her some comfort in the strange place they’ve ended up in. The creaking of the old monastery around her is like a lullaby, lulling her into a doze. Her brain has already started floating away from her and she can tell she’s gonna hate waking up when-

“Found some!” a voice exclaims and she bolts awake, her chest heaving.

“Was goin’ on, is it Beatrix?” Her head’s on a swivel to take in the room as she stumbles to her unsteady feet. Arin’s no longer laying on the mat next to her, but is instead at the doorway. He’s holding up something in his hand and Sora’s eyes struggle to focus on it. “What’s going on?” she asks again, more forcefully.

“I found some antiseptic!” he calls excitedly, shaking a packet of antiseptic wipes at her. Sora gaps at him.

“Did you ask Lloyd?” she seethes, stalking over and ripping the packet out of his hands. “Arin, I told you I didn’t want him to know.” Arin’s jaw drops and he looks startlingly hurt.

“Sora, I wouldn’t,” he insists and the guilt hits Sora immediately

“Sorry-” she shakes her head vigorously, “I just- if you didn’t ask Lloyd, how’d you get these?” The hurt slides off Arin’s face easily and he grins maniacally.

“Using my sweet ninja skills, obviously,” he boasts, posing dramatically and karate-chopping the air. Sora stares at the large packet of antiseptic wipes in her hands.

“Did you steal these from Lloyd?” she hisses. Arin rolls his eyes, crossing his arms.

“It’s not stealing, Sora, they were just underneath the sink in the bathroom.” Sora looks at her best friend and something on her face must spook him into seriousness because his voice softens into something more sincere. “They were in some first aid kit, Sor,” he promises, dropping his arms and reaching a hand out to squeeze at her bicep. “We can just say that we had some scrapes and wanted to clean them up.”

“I told you I could skip a dose,” she tries to insist, still clutching at the packet.

Arin shakes his head before she finishes speaking. “No,” he says firmly. “You gave up everything we had in the Crossroads to help me with this and I’m not making you give up your shots either.”

Sora’s eyes burn with tears and she ducks her head away from Arin, trying to hide it. “Aw, you big softie,” she says, well-aware that her voice, thick with affection, gives her away. Arin, with all the love in his heart, doesn’t call her out on it, just swinging an arm over her shoulder and steering her back towards the mats with a smile.

Sora wakes up before Arin the next morning.

This is normal for them, doubly so because of Arin’s late night excursion throughout the monastery last night looking for those stupid antiseptic wipes. Her case, filled with her vials of estradiol and clean needles, sits next to her duffel bag and the first thing she does when she wakes is stuff it back into her bag, zipping it neatly away. They went through enough trouble of not letting Lloyd know that anything was different about Sora last night, and she wasn’t about to let a small bit of sleepy carelessness ruin it for them.

She pads out of the room, pulling her sweater tight around her, and wanders down a couple hallways. She’s not sure what she’s looking for, her goal more to do with exploring than trying to reach a certain destination. The walls are decorated with several pictures, each one filled with smiling faces and gis of several different colors, not just green. What catches her eye specifically is the one at the end of a dusty hall, seemingly long abandoned. It’s the faded photo of a young man cooing down at the face of a small baby in his arms, the glass protecting the photo cracked around the edges. Sora reaches out and runs her fingers along the cracks. Maybe she could find a new pane, fix it up.

“That’s my father,” a voice pipes up behind her. Sora jumps and whirls around. Lloyd is standing at her shoulder, his posture straight and feet positioned shoulder-width apart. It stands in stark contrast to his blond hair sticking straight up into the air and a soft fluffy robe slipping down one shoulder, revealing Titanium Ninja themed pajamas. He’s staring intently and Sora follows his gaze back to the photo.

“Is that you in the photo?” Sora asks cautiously.

“Yup. Cute kid, right?” he asks wryly, almost as if there’s a joke there that she doesn’t quite understand. She doesn’t know what to say. They stare for a while.

A pregnant pause lapses between them before Lloyd exhales softly and settles a hand on Sora’s shoulder, motioning down the hall. “What do you say about breakfast?” he asks. Sora brightens up at that and he laughs. “Yeah, I thought so.”

They go through enough different hallways and corners and rooms that Sora gets dizzy trying to keep track of it all. On top of that, Lloyd speeds through the monastery as if he knows the whole thing like the back of his hand. It doesn’t matter how long you’ve lived in a place, Sora thinks to herself, there’s no way he actually knows where he’s going.

(The fact that it’s been five minutes and they still haven’t made it to anything resembling a kitchen only confirms this for Sora but she’s not gonna say anything to the guy letting her crash in his house.)

Pushing open a sliding door, Lloyd makes a soft “aha!” sound and Sora peeks around him to see a large kitchen with a low dining table on the other side of a breakfast counter. “I always get turned around in this place,” he muses, stepping into the kitchen and beelining for a large coffee maker on the counter.

Sora scrunches her face. She didn’t think she’d get proven right that fast. “Thought all the ninja lived here? How do you get lost?”

Lloyd shrugged. “I spent most of the last five years in and out of the Bounty and some random apartments.” He opens up a cabinet, reaching up onto his tiptoes to try and grab a mug a couple shelves up. He scowls and Sora tries not to laugh. “Damnit, Cole,” he mutters under his breath, when he finally snags the handles of a couple mugs.

“Is Cole one of the other ninjas?” she asks innocently, pulling herself onto a high-top situated at the breakfast bar. “Arin’s told me everyone’s names before, but I can never keep it all straight.”

Lloyd’s hands startle as he pours coffee grounds into the filter, missing the machine and spilling grounds onto the counter. He curses again. “Uh- yeah, Cole’s my older brother. Black ninja,” he says distractedly, reaching for a stray rag and sweeping the grounds into his hands. Sora notes his knuckles going white where he’s clutching the rag. “He went missing in the Merge,” Lloyd explains quietly, shaking the rag off into the sink.

Sora nods awkwardly, clicking her tongue. Grief over missing family from the Merge wasn’t exactly something she could relate to. “Got it,” she says, mostly to fill the silence.

They both stare at the coffee machine as it drips bit by bit into the coffee pot. Without Arin around, they don’t- really have much to say to each other. Sora doesn’t even know anything about the ninja, it’s just- Imperium didn’t have anything like them and when she came through the Merge, they were all long gone. Three days ago, as far as she knew, the ninja were some mass hallucination the collective of Ninjagans came up with to deal with trauma and she definitely wasn’t in a place to judge anyone what they did out of trauma so she kept her mouth shut.

Sora snaps out of her train of thought when Lloyd slides her a mug filled to the brim with coffee. She looks up at him, confused, but he is thoroughly distracted by inhaling his own mug. He tilts it back further and further with no break for air until it’s at least three-quarters empty. Only then does he straighten up, blinking blearily as the caffeine hits his system and wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his housecoat. They stare at each other for a second.

“Oh-” he says, placing his mug on the counter, “sorry, I forgot to ask if you prefer yours with creamer.”

“I don’t drink coffee,” she replies awkwardly. “Don’t super love the taste.”

Lloyd blinks at her. “How old are you again?”

“Fifteen.”

Lloyd goes pale, swiping her mug away from her as if she was about to snatch it and run away like a thief. “First Master, you’re like a baby, I should not have given you that.”

Sora puffs out her cheeks and crosses her arms. “I am not a baby, I’ve been living my own for like two years!”

Lloyd snorts, pouring the coffee in her mug into his own and taking another giant swing. “Please, I was on the streets age seven. Two years on your own is nothing.”

Sora startles. “Age seven? Jeez, where were your parents?”

Lloyd’s hand jerks mid-sip and coffee spills down his front. Sora lunges forward, as if she can stop the liquid in its tracks, but Lloyd is already tugging off his housecoat before the coffee can seep onto his sleep clothes. He pulls it in front of him, hissing in annoyance at the stain and scrubbing at it fruitlessly with the palm of his hand. Sora shrinks back, grimacing sympathetically. “Sorry,” she says.

Lloyd waves her off, sighing heavily when the stain doesn’t seem to be going anywhere. “I’m not the best in the mornings, it’s not your fault,” he responds, shooting her a tired smile.

“Aren’t ninja supposed to be- like- really alert all the time?” Sora wonders aloud and Lloyd laughs, tossing his housecoat across the counter to be dealt with later.

“I’m a really bad ninja,” Lloyd muses, wrapping his hands around his mug. “Get the drop on me and I’ll shriek like a little kid.” He gives a slight pause. “My brothers are worse though. ‘specially Kai.”

Sora wrinkles her nose. “That doesn’t sound right. Arin’s always telling me about how ninjas are stealth masters. They’re supposed to know what’s going on around them all the time.”

Lloyd hums and takes a delicate sip of coffee. “Being aware is important,” he admits, “but ninja aren’t some other species. We’re just people trying our best.” He tilts his head towards the discarded housecoat. “And some people are jumpy, like me.”

Sora gives a soft huh. The room falls silent as Lloyd nurses his second cup of coffee. She kicks her legs half-heartedly and props her chin up on her hand as she takes a look around the room. There’s a pink apron hanging on a hook near the fridge and Sora wonders who it might belong to.

Lloyd breaks the silence first. “You guys were up late last night.”

Sora remembers Arin bursting into the room, waving around her new antiseptic wipes, and the stern, hushed conversation they held at the doorway and her shoulders tense. “Yep,” she replies tersely, nervously pulling the sleeves of her sweater over her hands.

“Everything good?”

Sora tries for a smile. She’s not sure she’s succeeding. Her heart pounds in her throat and Sora really hopes that whatever Lloyd was saying about ninja not being aware one hundred percent of the time is still true. “Everything’s great, we were just- y’know, talking about the day. It’s uh…It’s been a lot.”

Lloyd cocks an eyebrow, but his eyes hold something close to understanding. “Did you guys have everything you needed?”

Again, Sora’s mind flashes to her case filled with vials of estradiol but void of any antiseptic wipes. She nods quickly. “Yep,” she manages to squeak out. “The- blankets and everything were great.”

“Any medical supplies you need?”

Idiot, now he’ll definitely be suspicious.

“Arin,” Lloyd’s voice calls out from the doorway into the monastery. Arin looks up from the sandbag he’s been practicing on, steadying it with his hands so that it doesn’t swing right into his face.

“Yeah?”

Lloyd motions for him to follow and then slips into the monastery without a further word. Arin looks questioningly at Sora balancing along one of the beams on the other side of the courtyard. She just shrugs at him. Shrugging back, he grabs his nearby towel and wipes the sweat off his forehead and back of his neck before jogging into the monastery.

Master Lloyd’s in the main meditation room, the one he insists they start their days off in, sitting on the floor by a low table. He’s seemingly deep in thought, staring off into the distance, but he notices Arin fairly quick and gestures for him to sit down. Arin quickly takes his usual position on one of the two pillows in the center of the room on the other side of the table. “You wanted to see me?” Arin asks, his voice small.

“I talked with Sora a couple days ago,” Lloyd starts, his voice stern. His back is straight, his shoulders pulled back with a precision and confidence that Arin both envies and is terrified of. Even his gaze is troubled, seeing something Arin just can’t quite grasp. “And I got the feeling there was something you both aren’t telling me.”

Arin gulps, thinking of the case of syringes buried deep in Sora’s bag. She would have said something if she thought Lloyd suspected anything and he certainly wasn’t gonna out her to anyone she hadn’t been explicitly okay with knowing. That wasn’t his information to tell, so- “No, sir, there’s nothing.”

Lloyd looks at him, unblinking. “Are you sure?”

Arin tries to keep eye contact, but the sparks of green always bouncing around Master Lloyd’s pupils overwhelm him and he has to look away. “Promise.”

A beat passes. Then two. And Arin is sure they’ve been found out and oh First Master, what if Sora was right, what if the ninja are just some- some assholes, and they kick Sora out? He would go with her, obviously, but where would they go now? Could they restart again?

Lloyd sighs heavily, sounding- relieved, and Arin looks up. Lloyd’s shoulders have lost some tension and he’s laughing to himself. “Man, I was worried for a second,” Lloyd huffs, tugging at the collar of his gi.

Arin blinks rapidly. “I- what?” he asks, confused. “Worried about what?”

Lloyd reaches up, tugging on a stray curl that’s escaped his headband. “I noticed one of the first aid kits had some stuff missing and it just reminded-” he cuts himself, sighing slightly frustrated. Arin isn’t sure if it’s aimed at him or not. Lloyd takes a second, obviously chewing over the right choice of words. “Me and my siblings are always off- trying to be stupid and sacrificial,” he settles on. “I don’t want that for you and Sora.”

Arin tilts his head to the side, clarity dawning. “Like- like you thought we were hiding being injured?” he asks, baffled. “Why would we do that?”

Lloyd gives him a long look that Arin can’t decipher. “I almost don’t want to tell you because I’m scared you’re gonna think it’s a great idea,” he says humorously.

Arin makes a pssh sound, waving his master off. “Nah, I wouldn’t do that. And Sora wouldn’t either,” he rushes to add. “So you definitely don’t have to worry about that.”

Lloyd smiles, small pointed fangs peaking out and poking into his bottom lip. Arin had never noticed them before. “You got it, kid. You can go back and join Sora, I’ll be out in a second.”

Arin nods eagerly, scrambling to his feet and rushing out of the room to rejoin his friend.

What he doesn’t see is a troubled expression settling on Lloyd’s face and his shoulders pulling tight. In his lap is a half-empty first aid kit, missing an entire case of antiseptic wipes but – inexplicably, nothing else.

It’s a close one. It’s too close. In fact, Sora’s inclined to think it’s not close at all because Lloyd is bleeding and Arin is one stray shot from spiraling straight into panic attack territory and to be honest, with her master on her back and his blood soaking into her white gi and sticking to her skin and her best friend barely holding off the attackers as it is, she’s pretty close to one herself.

Kai and Nya are supposed to be here somewhere, with Wyldfyre in tow and the backup would be incredible right about now but they’d split up for a reason. A reason Sora is sure sounded very good up until three minutes ago when Ras reared the corner and warriors started descending on them with ferocity.

Skidding around a corner and taking off as fast as she can, she can only think that thank the Master that Cinder isn’t here because she’d just give it all up right then.

Lloyd is panting heavily in her ear, grunting every harsh movement she makes (which is most of them) and desperately trying to direct her out of the building. In one terrifying moment, his body goes slack and his head lolls, knocking hard into her temple which wakes him back up. His blood seeps down further and further, dripping down into Sora’s hands and forcing her to readjust her grip on Lloyd’s legs. She hikes him further up her back and he inhales sharply. “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” she whispers fervently, “sorry, I’m going as fast as I can,” she promises.

“It’s-” he hisses as she stumbles, her elbow driving directly into his side. “You’re doing great, Sor,” he grits out. “Just focus, you’re doing great.”

“Kai!” she hears Arin’s exhausted voice exclaim before the familiar heat of twin flames brushes past her and an unprepared Shatterspin warrior screams behind them. Still running as quickly as she can down the hall, she tries to crane her neck to the side. Kai is flanking her on one side, Nya close behind him. When Sora checks the other side, Arin has caught up to her and she can only guess that Wyldfyre is watching her back.

“What happened?” Kai demands, shouting over the din of the warriors running behind them.

“I don’t know!” Sora gasps raggedly, barely able to breathe. “He just- got hit, and then I started running!”

“I’m fine, Kai,” Lloyd tries to reassure from behind her, but one glance at Kai tells Sora that the older ninja does not believe either of them at all.

“Your guts are spilling-” Kai tries to protest, but one of the warriors have caught up to them and launched themself at Kai’s legs. He leaps forward and tries to dodge, but Sora watches them just barely catch onto Kai’s foot and he can’t get his feet under him quite fast enough to avoid the next attack. She hears Nya skid to a stop beside her brother and yells at the rest of them to “move, move, move!” while she provides cover.

Another corner, another long as fuck hallway, more blood sticking to her skin, and Lloyd’s breath gets shallower and shallower in her ear, and-

“Tincan!” Wyldfyre roars, “we need some help over here!”

Sora looks up and the Bounty is overhead, with Zane at the helm. A ladder is sent hurtling down and Sora has to brace her knees and slide out of the way to avoid her and Lloyd getting conked over the head by it. Lloyd groans lowly and Sora’s legs shake under their combined weight as she forces herself to stand up straight again.

“My apologies!” Zane calls down, before launching himself from the Bounty and straight into a Spinjitzu turn to land fluidly into a gaggle of warriors descending on Nya.

Arin slides past her, grabbing onto the spinning ladder and stabilizing it, before turning and motioning rapidly to her. “Hurry!” he yells. Sora moves as fast as she can (not very), digging her hands tighter into Lloyd’s upper legs, trying to keep purchase. Getting to the base of the ladder, she cranes her head up and then looks wide-eyed at Arin.

“I don’t think I can climb all the way with Lloyd,” she says, her voice tight with panic. “I’m- I’m not strong enough.”

“Hand him over,” a voice behind her demands and she turns her neck to find Kai boasting the nastiest bruise on his right cheekbone. “Keep right behind me because it’s gonna be all hands on deck to keep him together once we get up there.”

Sora nods fervently, and then turns her head so it’s closer to Lloyd’s ear. “Didya hear that, Master? You’re gonna be just fine, we’re gonna make sure of it.”

He chuckles, breathily and pitched, and clumsily pats her shoulder, his hand slick with his own blood. “Never doubted you for a moment, kid,” he wheezes.

Kai doesn’t give them another second, reaching out for his younger brother and Sora braces her knees again, leaning forward to make the pass as smooth as possible. It’s impossible to not strain Lloyd’s wound, evident by how he gasps raggedly as Kai pulls him off Sora’s back and into a firemen’s carry, and Sora’s chest clenches. Zane and Nya and Wyldfyre are holding the rest at bay, but their disorganization and lack of practice as a team is evident. Sora can see the condensation from where Wyldfyre’s flame has decimated Zane’s strategically placed ice walls. They won’t be able to keep this up for long.

Kai’s already three rungs up, clutching Lloyd’s body tightly and using his chin to stabilize him as he reaches for the next rung up. “Sora!” he shouts, “hurry!”

Arin holds the ladder steady as she jumps for the rung right beneath Kai’s feet and keeps up step by step as they scale the length of the ladder. Kai makes it over the edge of the Bounty’s deck and Sora’s close behind. Laying Lloyd flat on the main deck, Kai doesn’t even turn to Sora before he’s barking, “Med kit! Now!” at her.

Sora dashes off, racing down the tight hallways to the cramped bathroom, where she nearly rips the blamed cabinets off their hinges trying to get to underneath the sink. The bright red box sits neatly right where it’s supposed to be and Sora can barely send thanks to the First Master for at least one thing going right before she’s booking it back down the hallway and onto the deck.

She’s running across the deck and skids the rest of the way to Lloyd’s side on her knees, opening the med kit as fast as she can. Lloyd’s gi has been ripped open, clearly done by someone’s hands rather than scissors, and part of it has been reconstituted as a makeshift gauze to be pressed into his wound. He’s clearly trying not to writhe on the ground and Sora realizes belatedly that the only reason he’s likely not screaming is because of years of practice. “Antiseptic, thread, needles,” Kai rattles off, straightening his arms and pressing straight down to keep pressure on the wound. His hands are steady, she notices, and his lips set into a thin, tight line, but his eyes are wide and terrified.

Sora digs into the box, pulling out the proper suture material she’d just gone over with Arin two nights ago and grabs a spare cloth in the med kit to set them out neatly where they’ll be the most accessible to Kai. She goes back into the box for the antiseptic and it’s-

There is none.

“Sora, what is taking so long,” Kai grits out, his jaw clenching. Lloyd reaches up to tug as harshly as he can on Kai’s sleeve.

“Be nice,” he rasps.

“I’ll be nice when you’re not dying,” he bites back. “Sora!”

“There is none!” she says, her voice wild and pitched. “It’s not in here!”

“What do you mean, that was grabbed right out of the monastery, there’s no way it wasn’t stocked-”

Sora stares at Kai, horror dawning on her. “Where was it taken from?”

“The monastery, I said already!”

“No, but where?”

Kai groans, frustrated, but answers, “I don’t fucking know, the bathroom by your room!”

The pit in Sora’s stomach widens and for a second, she sees double. “No, no- fuck,” she hisses under her breath, scrabbling back up onto her feet and racing off. Kai yells after her but she’s got a one-track mind. She slides down the same hallways but takes a different turn, ending up in the bunk bed room. Her duffel bag is shoved into the corner beside Arin’s backpack and she rips the zipper open, not worrying if it breaks. Not willing to spend a second waiting, she grips the bag by its bottom and topples the whole thing over, everything spilling out onto the floor.

Sora spreads it all out into a thin layer, scanning each item frantically before her eye catches on the hot pink thick case with a bright trans pride flag delicately embroidered onto the front – a gift from Arin when she’d gotten on estradiol for the first time.

There isn’t time to open the case and hide it again so she just grabs it and is off back to the deck again.

When she’s back, there’s a crowd she has to barrel through. Arin is pacing nervously around the edges, unable to get close enough. Nya is holding back Wyldfyre, who’s desperate to both see the gore and launch herself off the boat down towards Ras and his men. Zane is by Kai’s side and she hears mention of cauterization and unsterilized sutures as she blindly fumbles at the zipper of her case, yanking at it and stumbling to Lloyd’s side.

Syringes and needles spill out, rendered unusable, and it’s only due to how carefully she has secured her vials inside that they don’t pop out and shatter onto the planks beneath them. Travel-size packages and bottles of antiseptic rattle around beside the vials and she yanks them out, tossing them across Lloyd’s body to Zane, who grabs them without even looking at her.

In a second, the bottle is broken open and spilled across the slice across Lloyd’s abdomen. It dislodges some of the dried blood on his skin, revealing how it travels further up his chest. “Get the rest of his gi off,” Kai orders in Sora’s direction and without thinking, she’s on it. She grabs the edge of the torn cloth and murmurs a quick apology before yanking it upwards as much as she can. Lloyd shouts in pain and she resists the urge to shut her eyes to avoid the sight. She tugs it up, over, and off his head and arms, leaving his upper body clear of anything and easily accessible for Kai to start threading sturdy sutures through his skin. Sora’s eyes catch the edge of wound, still steadily pumping blood, and she follows it up. It crosses against several different other scars, caused by many different other weapons. There’s healed burns, other deep cuts, several small scraps that have only scarred due to poor care, and-

Lloyd breathes sharply once, twice, before his head lolls to the side and it all spirals beyond Sora’s control. The wound’s been sutured, but the blood loss is immense, she hears. Zane and Kai grab him by the shoulders and legs and carry him off to the med bay. Sora’s left on the deck, sitting in a pool of blood, covered in it, surrounded by her freshly purchased needles scattered across the deck. Arin’s a few feet away from her, his eyes wide and shiny. He’s got a thin cut on his arm and a bruise on his jaw, but otherwise he’s unharmed.

Instinctually, they reach towards each other and Arin rushes to her as she leans forward, collapsing into each other. Arin’s chest is heaving, that panic attack having finally caught up to him, and tears drip down from his face into her hair. Sora feels like she should be crying, her top ten worst nightmares are all rolling into one, but all she can do is bury her face into Arin’s gi and hold him as tight as she can.

The only reason why Sora sticks around is because Arin catches her by the wrist mid-escape with tears brimming in his wide, terrified brown eyes and she didn’t have the stomach to pull away.

The urge to make a break for it doesn’t leave. They all know now – Lloyd, Zane, Kai, and Nya – and she’s never enjoyed waiting for the other shoe to drop. Arin must feels this, she knows he does, because he keeps a cold, clammy grip around her wrist through each night to make sure she doesn’t try and disappear again. She doesn’t call him out on his lack of trust in her – she doesn’t have much trust in herself either these days.

Arin, for as difficult as it must be for him, doesn’t make her talk about it. He wants to, she knows that much. He lets her beg out of group dinners with the pitiful excuse that she doesn’t feel well, but he frowns deeply every time when he thinks she’s not paying attention. Even when she still forces herself to go to training every morning, Arin notices the distance she keeps between herself and Lloyd with a worried crease in his forehead. Sora desperately wants to reach over and dig her fingers into his side to chase the concern away but it’s all fake – the reality sets in regardless of how well she tries to hide it.

Sora doesn’t let Arin help her with her shots anymore. Doing it alone in the middle of the night on the floor of the cold bathroom tile isn’t- it isn’t preferred, but she has to keep herself safe and if it takes ignoring Arin’s mournful gaze as she sneaks out of the room with her shot kit clutched to her chest, then- so be it.

If Arin’s poorly disguised attempts at not making her uncomfortable counts as “not making her talk about it,” then the ninja are like- pretending it never even happened. She can’t wrap her mind around it.

Lloyd doesn’t keep his distance – if anything, since she carried him bloody and stabbed back to the Bounty, it feels like he’s broken through some invisible barrier that had been holding him back the whole time. It baffles her. He’s always resting a gentle hand on her shoulder, even as she continuously shrugs it off. He beams at her every time she hits a little higher and a little harder. Every early morning after a skipped meal, he brushes past her softly, with an affectionate “missed you last night.”

Nya is pleasant as always, elbowing her gently and riffing about “girl power,” leaving Sora’s head spinning. It’s kind, as Nya has always been since her and Arin became Lloyd’s students, but surely Nya knows, right?

Zane is politely distant (like normal). Kai is impolitely distant (again, like normal) (except-) (except he had stopped Sora one night before bed, one of the few times she’d joined everyone for dinner, mostly to keep up appearances) (and for one, terrifyingly genuine moment, he looked her in the eyes and thanked her for helping save Lloyd’s life.) (She didn’t know what to make of it.) (There was no mention of her vials, of her having stolen the antiseptic, the few precious seconds that might have spelled the end of her master’s life.) (Just pure- gratitude.) (It made her feel sick.)

She’s not the kind of person to wait for the other foot to drop. Her time in Imperium, her departure in Imperium, makes that evident.

Sora doesn’t wanna stick around. Sora doesn’t want to see what this all turns into. Her time here was good but it’s obviously coming to an end and she might as well book it before it blows up in her face.

She throws another volley of punches into the weighted sand bag with a grunt, trying to chase away the train of thought. She’s desperate to blow off some steam before she explodes.

Arin’s on the other side of the courtyard with Lloyd, probably working on his Spinjitzu. She’s been relegated to grunt work – a series of repetitive exercises and katas she’s convinced Lloyd has created just to pass the time while he tries to come up with something better to do. She lands another punch solidly in the middle of the bag, her wrist bent slightly the wrong away, and a twinge runs all the way up her arm to her shoulder. “Damnit,” she mutters under her breath, shaking her hand out before changing a different position to move on to high kicks and give her hands a break.

Sora crouches, one foot in front, one foot behind, with her arms bent loosely in front of her. She breathes in and on the exhale, she sweeps her back leg to the side and then forward into the air, pushing the rest of her weight onto her other foot. Her leg swings solidly into the sand bag with a thump, and she pulls back, settling back into the starting position.

She can do better.

Inhale, exhale, kick, push, thump. Again. Inhale, exhale, kick, push, thump. Again. Inhale, exhale, kick, push, thump. Again. Inhale, exhale, kick, push, thump-

“Sora!” Lloyd calls out from where he’s supervising Arin. “Try kicking higher, see if you can challenge yourself!”

Sora squeezes her eyes shut, chewing back the urge to snap something rude in her master’s direction. She clenches her fists, holding her breath as she kicks again. The impact is weak and she scowls. Shaking her hands out and bouncing back and forth on the balls of her feet, she inhales deeply. She bounces forward and lets the momentum pushes her front foot directly into the ground and lifts the other foot off the ground. Engaging the muscles in her abdomen and calf to keep her leg straight, she pivots hard, pitching her leg directly into the side of the sand bag with as much force as she can muster.

The impact reverberates from the base of her shin where the contact was made all the way up to her hip in a satisfying whack! Careful to keep her balance, she swings her leg back down behind her, breathing hard.

Cheering erupts behind her. She pops back up, turning behind her to see Arin clapping and whistling. Wiping the sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand, she smiles widely at him before she falters, catching Lloyd’s gaze from where he’s standing right behind her best friend. He’s grinning proudly at her, clapping quietly himself with a gleam in his eyes.

Sora’s smile drops and she turns away from Lloyd, faking a cough to cover it up. The clapping slows awkwardly and she can almost hear Arin’s confused glance in her direction.

She half-heartedly punches at the sand bag, pretending like she’s focusing back on her repetitions, but her heart’s not in it anymore. There’s some muffled whispering, but she can’t quite hear it and she grits her teeth and throws another hit, this time a little harder.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Arin walking back into the monastery. He throws her a concerned look over his shoulder, but he quickly disappears out of sight. It’s just her and Lloyd in the courtyard. She throws another hit, her shoulder too tight and her wrist crooked. It hurts.

“Sora.”

Another punch, the other arm this side. A little better, but it’s obviously her weak side. There’s no power behind it.

“Sora.”

She hits a quick one-two in quick succession, having to steady the sand bag when it swings away with the impact and then directly into her.

“Sora!”

Sora’s hands clench into the taut fabric. “What?” she barks, keeping her eyes trained firmly on the ground.

“Are you okay?” his voice comes out quiet and concerned.

She scowls. “ ’m fine,” she mutters. “Didn’t sleep well.”

“Then you haven’t been sleeping well for a while,” he says, not unkindly.

Sora scuffs her foot against the packed dirt floor. “What do you care?”

Lloyd is quiet for a second. “You’re my student, Sora, and I’d like to think we’ve become friends. I’m worried about you.”

Sora’s eyes burn and she shoves at the punching bag, whirling around at him.

“Friends?” she bites out, shoving a finger in his direction. Lloyd’s eyes go wide and he takes a step back out of caution. “Friends don’t- don’t make me guess. Friends don’t ignore what’s been going on, they don’t keep me on the edge as to when you’re gonna finally make up your mind!” she yells, tears bubbling up in her eyes and spilling over.

Lloyd’s shock turns rapidly into alarm and he reaches for her. She smacks his hand away before it even gets near her and turns away, wrapping her arms tightly around her. He frowns, looking more upset at himself than at her. This is what she means, she doesn’t get it- why won’t he just get mad at her- “What do you mean, Sora? What do I need to make up my mind about?”

“About when you’re gonna kick me out,” she grits out. “Like LaRoe did, like my parents did.”

“Why, in the name of the First Master, would I do that?” he sounds baffled and hurt and- slightly panicked.

“You’re really gonna make me say it?” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. She wipes harshly at her face, pushing the tears away.

Lloyd steps closer, a hand reaching for her shoulder. “I wouldn’t make you if I knew what was going on,” he explains softly. “It’s very clearly making you upset and I’m sorry, but I can’t fix anything unless you tell me.”

Sora sniffs pathetically, her hands digging into the muscle of her upper arms. “ ‘s ‘cause I’m not a girl, isn’t it?”

“…what?”

Sora frowns, glancing up at Lloyd. “What, like you didn’t know?” Lloyd’s still staring at down at her with wide eyes. Her shoulders hike up to her ears. “The- the vials, ‘n everyone saw-”

“Sora, I have zero idea what you’re talking about,” he rushes out breathlessly, settling a hand on her upper arm. “If we’ve been misgendering you or anything, if you’d like to- to change something, that is absolutely okay, we would never kick you out over that.”

It’s Sora’s turn for her eyes to go wide. “Wait, what do you mean you don’t know what I’m talking about, you were there!” Lloyd laughs incredulously and Sora stares at him hard. “On the Bounty?” she reminds him urgently, her arms dropping from around her. “When- when you got stabbed?”

Lloyd pushes his free hand up into his loose hair, still laughing. “I was stabbed!” he exclaims. “I was a little busy!”

Sora’s jaw drops. “So you just- you didn’t know?” she whisper-yells. “You weren’t- playing some sick joke?”

“No,” Lloyd exclaims emphatically, his other hand dropping from his hair and reaching to hold Sora’s other arm gently. “I- We wouldn’t do that to you. I promise whatever you thought we knew, we do not.” His gaze softens and he squeezes her shoulders comfortingly. “And whatever you want us to know, we’re not going to kick you out over it.”

A lump builds in Sora’s throat and her eyes burn again. “…I don’t know about that,” she croaks. “I don’t have the best track record.”

“Does Arin know?” Lloyd asks.

“Yeah.”

He smiles reassuringly. “Then I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.”

Sora stays quiet for a bit, chewing on the inside of her cheek, and his smile dims slightly. “You don’t have to tell me,” he says quietly, “but if it’s- if you’re not a girl and you don’t wanna be called that, you deserve for the people around you to respect that.”

Sora’s already shaking her head before he’s done talking. “I am a girl,” she chokes out, shutting her eyes as she tries to keep tears from leaking out a second time. “I just- I didn’t start that way.”

Lloyd makes a noise of understanding and Sora screws her eyes tighter, bracing for his reaction. Bracing for the anger, for the confusion.

She doesn’t know what to do when he pulls her into a tight hug, pressing her head affectionately into his shoulder.

“I didn’t start out as a boy either,” he whispers into her ear. Sora remains still as a statue as the words sit in her brain, processing, processing, processing, and then they click and it’s like a dam breaks.

Lloyd’s like her.

He must know what it’s all like – the shots, the fear, the instability in your own body, been through every painful, joyful, turbulent step – and everyone still loves him – he’s the fucking savior of the world and he’s like her-

Sora chokes and wraps her arms around her master, squeezing tightly. Her breath hitches once, twice, and when Lloyd sets a gentle hand on the crown of her head, paternal in a way she can’t remember ever receiving from her own father, sobs bubble up from her throat and she wails pathetically into his gi.

“I’m sorry, sorry-” she tries, pulling away to wipe at her face, but Lloyd keeps her where she is. The hold is loose enough that if she wanted to pull away, she definitely could. But she definitely doesn’t and she collapses back into the hug. Lloyd just rubs at her back, pressing his cheek into the top of her head. “I thought you knew- I thought you were gonna be mad at me-”

“I’m not mad,” he promises, “no one’s mad. You’re good, Sora, you’re perfect.”

And, for the first time since they’ve started this whole First-damned exchange, Sora finally believes him.

#lloyd garmadon #sora ninjago #arin ninjago #dad lloyd behavior #kai jiang #nya jiang #theyre in there briefly #transphobia #none of the characters are transphobic i need to be very clear #its just fear of it #trans sora ninjago #trans lloyd garmadon #ninjago #dragons rising #when does this happen in the timeline you might ask?#fuck if i know #my fic

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