#maybe in a few years i’ll be chill about it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bee-wg · 6 months ago

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Year 1:

“I’m telling you, man. You just need to drink the protein shakes Dad and I have. Don’t worry about the taste, they’re banana chocolate flavoured. It’s actually quite delicious when you get used to the texture. Then you’ll just need to go to the gyms a few times a week to get these bad boys.” I said, flexing my 16-inch arms.

“Oh, and I can make protein pancakes! Maybe I can add it to other pastries too. It’ll be healthy, useful and delicious. I bet your mom could never have thought of that.” He said smugly.

“Dude, focus. Why does everything have to be cooking with you?”

“Sorry, I got too excited there. It’s just that I haven’t made breakfast you guys liked, it’s completely her territory. For now. Maybe If I make this, you guys will eat it.”

”You know we’ll have to finish whatever you both end up cooking anyway, right?”

“Yeah, that doesn’t count. I want you to eat it because you like it.” The man said, just when I thought he was sane.

”Well that’s irrelevant. Don’t you think it’s a great idea?” He asked.

Even though he’s a maniac, I have to admit.

“I guess it’s not bad, I don’t have to drink and eat at the same time. Just don’t make too much, you get easily full with those things.”

“Don’t worry about it man. Don’t you have morning football practice to burn off the calories?”

“Alright, just don’t put raisins in there. I heard somewhere that they make you dehydrated.”

I shoo him out of the door and start undressing. Contemplating on a compression shirt or an oversized Tee, my head starts running. I am objectively muscular, but compared to the guys at the gym, I’m nothing. I don’t think I’m big enough yet. Oversized Tee it is then.

Grabbing my duffle, I ran downstairs. Then, the scent of banana chocolate sweets blasted my face.

“Morning Jay, come try it out. This is really good.” Dad called out with his mouth half full.

I picked up the buttered pancake. It smells nice, with some cherry scent in there too.

“Dang, this is not bad, Pumpkin,” I shouted to him in the kitchen.

“Right? And with more space in the stomach for drinks, you can try Chloe’s fruit smoothie.” Dad said.

“Don’t worry sweetie, the fruits are from the farmers market so it’s healthy.” Mom yelled from the kitchen.

Looking back at the breakfast, it’s a bit more bulky than usual, but I’m gonna work it off in the morning drill anyway.

Without more hesitation, I dug into the full plate of pancakes and blueberry whipped cream.

“Sweetie, you’re already done? I have more in the back.” Mom said

“She really stepped up her game, right?” Dad chimed in.

“It was awesome mom. Thank you, and help me thank Theo too. But I really need to go now. The practice starts in 30.”

“Alright sweetie, stay safe and don’t be late. I’ll have David finish off the rest.”

“Wait, me? But there’s so much!” Dad whined.

“Love you Mom, love you dad, gotta go.”

I rushed out of the house with the faint sound of their replies.

I felt bad for Dad, since school started, I’ve been leaving the leftovers to him because of school. More often than not, Theo and Mom would overcook and we would be left with more food than we know how to deal with. So Dad would take his usual time for morning runs to finish it before going to work. I need to make it up to him somehow. I guess I could offload his burden by eating more on the weekends.

The practice went as well as it could with my stomach full of pancakes; although Coach thought I had a lot of potential with all the fumbles. Probably because Dad was a star quarterback here back in his days.

“You just need to get used to the team dynamic here, then it will all be fine, Jacob. Don’t sweat it,” Coach said.

It was easier said than done. Someone literally asked me how long my dick was, then groped my pec. At least in high school, people had the decency of being embarrassed.

Maybe I do need to chill off. Go to the club like they said. I do have the biggest pecs out of everyone after all. And I heard people like big glutes, so maybe someone would want me.

It took me a month to search up a club. I was not stalling. Then, another month to put the address into Google Maps. I was busy. Homework has been rough, the professor hates me and Theo needs me to restock. Nonetheless, I finally have time now.

Yay.

Putting on Dad’s old Beige Polo, I look pretty good. The shirt hugs my muscles too much for comfort, but it’s the one day of the month I’m supposed to look like a slut. The light is going to be dimmed anyway.

Fishing for the keys, my hand found some candied fruit on the stand. The guy even knows how to make candies from leftover fruits, who even does that? I grabbed some to put it in my mouth.

On my way out I caught a glimpse of my father in the kitchen. He’s been starting to brew homemade beers with steady progress.

“Oh, Jay! You’re going out? You got a date, yeah?”

He turned back, revealing the newly grown beer belly.

“What?! Of course not. It’s the shirt right? I look like a try hard.”

”Haha, be careful whose shirt you’re insulting. That was my lucky shirt.”

He misunderstood, I just thought I would look half as in place as he looks if I wear this. I really shouldn’t go.

”You’ll be alright son, you’re a charming young man. People will see that.”

My eardrums are fucking gushing blood.

The Club sound rattled through my bones as random guy number six and random chick number four came.

Dad was right. I was quite charming, TOO charming, even.

“Oh my gosh look at those arms,” running her hand, Random chick number four said.

“He probably has killer abs too. Wanna come home with me tonight, Jock boy?” Random guy number six said.

“Sorry man, I’m straight. I also have a friend waiting for me in the car.” I replied.

“Aww man, too bad. I wanted a dumb jock to rail me tonight.” He said while walking off. Seriously, what is up with people these days?

At least I still have my 16 dollar margarita with me in the corner.

Lost in my head, a potential random guy number seven approaches.

“Hey, what’s a hot guy like you doing in the corner?” Number seven asked.

“Sorry, I’m straight.”

“Ahh, my bad. Worth a shot,” He said.

“Man, why is every Dad bod fuck boys straight? Gay people are too obsessed with their bodies to have the look,” he added.

“What did you say?” I asked.

“Oh, it’s nothing. I have a thing for guys who look like you. Not really a jock anymore, but still attracts everyone.”

My 16 dollar margarita was spilt.

“Oh, Shit. Sorry I don’t know what to do.” I’m glad to not have a friend in my car waiting to see me embarrass myself.

“Don’t worry man, I’ll handle it.” Number seven said.

I don’t know why I’m doing this. It’s not like I have a Dad bod, is a fuck boy, or even gay. But the guy he described is the kind of masculine, wild man I aspire to be. Not a shit given to what people think. Maybe I can be that guy tonight.

“Sorry I’m not the Dad bod fuck boy you thought I was.”

I already butchered it. Why the hell did I say that? That’s not what a guy without a care in the world would say.

“What if you are.” He reached under my polo and grabbed my abs. Or softer abs, cause he’s clearly grabbing something.

“But I’ve never done this before,” Holy shit, I need to shut the fuck up.

“No worries, you just need to sit back and enjoy.”

I look back at the rotting toilet. Maybe not sit.

“We’re gonna make this quick, alright?” He said. Then gave my stomach a quick squeeze.

I’m telling Mom and Theo to cut back on the food tonight.

He slid down the zipper and tugged on my dick.

“You’re not who I imagined to be, but I like pathetic boys like you too.” He said.

“Wait, what? I - fuuuck.”

He uses his thumb to twirl around my cock head; then the freak proceeds to lick my stomach pudge.

“Fuuuuuuck,” I involuntarily groaned.

“Hahaha, seems like it would be quicker than I thought.”

He laughed. Fucking laughed at me. And my dick is harder than ever before.

Then, out of nowhere. He grabbed my ass and sucked half of my length in.

“Holy sh-“ I yelped

He covered his left hand on my mouth and said hushly. “Jesus, fuck boy! Do you want everyone to hear? I mean it’s hot, but we’ll get kicked out.”

“I’m sorry, I’ve just ohhhhhh.”

He sucked the entire length in as I got into his throat. It’s cold for a second with the air being sucked, then it warms up my dick as I get closer to the edge. And, wait, did I just moan out loud?

Didn’t give me a chance to breathe, he repeated the motion again and again.

I’m really close.

“Not yet fuck boy.” He said as he guided my hand to my pec.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Twist your nipples and do not stop until we’re done.”

Strange request, but it seemed like there was a lot I didn’t know, so I complied.

“I thought only women like this?” I asked as I squeezed my nipples.

He immediately got back to work as if telling me to shut the fuck up.

Then, I feel it.

It might be the cold air conditioning or the fact that I have my cock in someone’s fucking mouth, but my nipples perked up and got sensitive all of a sudden.

He starts to squeeze and rub my stomach as my senses overload.

Once in a while, he would come up with a remark or two.

“I bet you’re the kind of guy that likes to sit around, munch all day, let other people take charge and fuck you,” He said.

”I bet your bubble butt will grow twice as big by the end of the year because you hate the gym deep down,” He said.

It all doesn’t make sense. I only have five, ten tops of weight added, but my dick gets even harder.

“Come on, fuck boy. Twist those fat tits for me,” he said as the sucking picks up the pace.

“Fuck yeah, my fat tits.” It’s all too much for me to form a thought.

“Fuck my fat ass too.”

“Yeah, faster!”

He gave my slight belly a final squeeze as I cummed harder than I’d ever experienced.

I can feel my dick still shooting out cum as I blacked out.

Someone is wiping me.

Oh, right.

“Great, you’re up.” Random man said.

”Huh?”

“It got real messy, eh?” He continues.

“Sorry, I got carried away earlier. You’re just so hot.”

It seems like he’s not going to stop talking.

“You’re obviously still a jock, but hey. A man can dream,” he said

“You’ve got some real potential, kid.” He patted my apparently now-existing belly and said.

I don’t get it. I’ve been eating more than usual lately, and Theo’s snacks don't help, but mom got the ingredients from the farmers market, so they were definitely healthy. Maybe I am missing something else.

“Here,” he hands me a small piece of paper.

“Call me if you want to do this again.”

Then just like that, the strange man leaves.

I didn’t give a second glance at the piece of paper before throwing it in the trash can.

Against my better judgment, I put my hand back in the disgusting trash can.

No harm in keeping it.

The stranger’s words ring in my head as I put an undisclosed sum of money on margaritas.

Maybe I do like being taken care of.

***

My phone vibrated for the thousandth time today, almost causing an earthquake.

“Aggggah, leave me aloneeee. Help me baby Jesus.”

The alcohol from last night, plus the vibration is enough to kill a bear.

Opening the over-lit phone, I see Theo’s happy ginger face.

Theo: Hey Jay, could you help me buy a cookbook I want at the mall, asap?

Me: kys❤️

Mom: Jacob, could you explain the language?

Shit, it's the family chat!

Me: It means keeping yourself safe, mom. I'll go to the mall in a bit!

Theo, the little bastard, replied with a laughing emoji.

Brushing my teeth, I saw myself in the mirror.

Definitely can’t unsee it now. I still have some abs definitions, it’s just pushing out now.

I hesitated, looking at the protein ice cream sandwich mom prepared for me.

Well, I do need something to settle my stomach from the alcohol. Plus, protein is always healthy.

Grabbing a few more ice cream sandwiches, I made my way to the bus.

The mall is located in the middle of nowhere. Nobody comes here except for Costco. Apparently there’s a chain book store too.

Finding the book has been proven difficult. Half the store sells stationery, and the other half sells boring books nobody wants. There is no reason for the store to be this huge.

By the time Theo, the brat, had confirmed the book, it was already past two.

“Hello, excuse me. Is there no restaurant here whatsoever?” I asked the book nerd from the counter.

“Ahhhhh, there’s ahh fast food down the lane, to um, the right?”

“Alright, thanks.” Looks like I’m going to starve myself until I get back.

Going to the bus station, I pass the fast food place. They must have had a rebranding these couple of years. They used to smell like kids puke. Now… it smells like some sweet apple pie, fries, or chicken nuggets? Yeah, definitely some chicken nuggets. Haven’t had them in years.

No. I must not get carried away.

Dad said fast foods are not real food. Ever since he watched the Super Size Me documentary, he banned the whole family from eating fast food, and I thank him for it every day.

Today will be an exception. This will be my reward for going through everything that happened this week.

“So, we have a discount for everyone who uses our app. You can also get points for a free meal in the app.” The fat ass cashier asked.

“Yeah, why not. I could save a few.” Not like I’m going to use it after this.

My hands end up with a combo of fries, burger, nuggets and a medium soda.

While enjoying the smell of garbage goods, I catch a glimpse of an obese guy sitting in the corner.

He looks. Wait, it’s Avery Lancaster.

Holy shit it’s true. He did gain 70 pounds and some more. Looks like he’s in his 300s now.

The image of his fat ass hanging off the seat brought me back to reality.

I will not eat at this restaurant ever again after this meal, so I won’t end up like him.

Except for the fries. The fries are too good to pass.

For The rest of the semester, things went as well as they could.

Homework has been piling up, the professor still hates me, so I have less time to hit the gym.

Sports are enough for me so stay fit anyway. At least until next year’s spring season starts.

Coach has been supportive of my decision to bulk up. He just gave me an ominous warning about off-season athletes bulking too much.

When the Thanksgiving holiday came, I was ready to go on a diet.

After the holidays.

Because mom has seriously improved her skills, and, as much as I don’t wanna say it, Theo’s food is basically tailored made to my taste. They might just be.

I have a sneaking suspicion that they are using Dad and I as testing metrics for their little competitions. Just a suspicion. Because recently Theo started focusing on making food for me, Mom began to make food primarily for Dad.

The suspicious duo seem to have the belief that weight equals love. If that is the case, I am truly screwed. There is no one but dead people who can resist Theo’s cooking. I’ve even been brainwashed to think Theo’s food rants are interesting, that’s how powerful he is.

By the end of the Christmas dinner, I could tell that Theo had probably lost in their competition by the look on his face. I almost felt bad for not eating enough.

It's not like the food wasn’t good; my opponent is Dad. His appetite is unmatched. At the beginning of the year, he barely eats anything for breakfast while keeping his plant-based diet. Now he’s an absolute beast, he can inhale 15 pancakes at the speed of sound. Whatever I’ve gained this year, Dad probably has gained twice as much. He also grew out his beard and body hair which I struggle to do. There is literally no better definition of man than him.

After the Christmas dinner, I went up to assess the damage.

Twenty-two pounds of flabby fat gained this year.

Why don’t I at least look like Dad with a firm, rounded gut? Instead, mine grows around the underbelly, looking like a soft fanny pack.

I need to stop thinking about this. I’m still muscular after all. 215 is nothing compared to the guys on the team.

“Oh, it’s nothing. I have a thing for guys who look like you. Not really a jock anymore, but still attracts everyone.” His voice echoed in my head.

Deleting the notifications from the fast food app, I opened the phone and dialled the number for Random Guy number 7.

Chapter 2 ->

#male weight gain #exjock #fit to fat

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girlgenius1111 · 1 month ago

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luckier than grapes

clearly into one another, neither you nor alexia do anything about it. alexia is convinced to make a move on new years. you're clueless. fluff :)

—

Playing with a team that performed at the caliber that Barcelona did should have been the most intimidating part of the whole moving to a different country thing for you. Somehow, it wasn’t. There were many intimidating things about it; a new language, a new style of play, a tight knit team, high expectations. All of that paled in comparison to the fear the Barcelona captain caused in you.

You’d played against Alexia before, and she brought an intensity to the pitch that left you breathless. She was an otherworldly presence when she played. All furrowed brows and sharp words thrown at the ref. She was Alexia Putellas, one of the best in the world. She carried herself in a way that made you feel smaller, somehow. Like you were an amateur and she was an expert. Better yet, like you were playing for a high school team and she was… Alexia. Mononymous.

When you’d joined the team, though, you didn’t meet the overwhelmingly perfect version. You met Alexia, your captain, who was running late because she spilled coffee in the hallway outside her apartment door, and didn’t want to leave it for somehow else to have to clean. She was still striking, still sent butterflies fluttering around your stomach. This time, it wasn’t because she intimated you. It was because when she smiled, one side of her mouth raising slightly higher than the other, you were a goner.

Alexia was beautiful, anyone could see that. But as you spent the next few months getting to know her, you saw more. Alexia was gentle when she’d help you up after a rough tackle or wake you up on the plane to tell you it was time to get off. She was kind and caring, and fiercely passionate about her friends. You were drawn to her in a way you couldn’t really explain, and miraculously, it seemed she was drawn to you in the same way.

Chats in the locker room turned into grabbing lunch with her after training. Rides home from matches turned into movie nights where you both passed out on the couch.

You told yourself it was platonic. What else could it be? The chances that Alexia felt something for you outside of friendship… that just wasn’t possible. In the few months you’d gotten to know her, she’d become your best friend. You weren’t naive to your true feelings, but you were firm that there was no way they were returned. As quickly as you’d fallen for Alexia, you’d convinced yourself you could never have her. That she’d never feel the same way. You were addicted, or maybe you were just hopelessly in love. Either way. You valued your friendship with her too much to put it in jeopardy by confessing your feelings. And if you couldn’t have her as your girlfriend, you’d settle for having her as your best friend. Because any Alexia was better than no Alexia.

You could pretend her touch didn’t send chills up your spine, or that her laugh didn’t instantly bring a smile to your face. You could pretend that making her smile didn’t feel better than winning all the titles in the world, or that you liked to take her sweatshirts not because they smelled like her but because they were just oversized and comfy. You could pretend. You just didn’t know how long you could pretend for.

You didn’t know a lot of things, it turned out.

—

“Alexia, if you don’t invite her, I will and I’ll bother you about it anyway, so you might as well just–”

“Fine! Fine, María. You are so pushy sometimes.” Alexia snapped, her eyes flickering over to where you were chatting with Kika, her frustration with her friend almost evaporating as she watched you laugh.

“And you are hopelessly in love and I can’t take it anymore. So if I have to be pushy, I’ll be pushy.”

Alexia didn’t even bother contradicting Mapi. That ship had sailed weeks ago when she’d had too much wine at dinner with her sister and she’d called Mapi half sobbing about how much she liked you. Drunk Alexia was an evil Alexia, she’d decided. Because now Mapi knew and the defender was making her do something about it instead of pining after you from afar.

She began to walk in your direction, trying to hype herself up and failing miserably. You didn’t like her like that. She was sure, absolutely convinced. There was just… no way. No way on earth or in heaven. But here she was, like an idiot, about to stumble her way through an invite to a New Year’s Eve party because for some reason, her words tended to become all jumbled when she talked to you.

As soon as you spotted her walking in your direction, whatever conversation you’d been having with Kika promptly fell out of your head. Kika, oddly, seemed to disappear the next second, as if knowing to give you and Alexia a moment to yourselves. Strange.

“Hola.” Alexia said softly, her hands twitching at her sides as if she wanted to give you a hug or something.

“Hi.”

“Um… I have a question.” Alexia said, switching to English so she was sure you’d understand. Her accent made your heart beat faster, as it always did.

“Shoot.” You replied.

Alexia’s eyebrows knit together, a look of confusion washing over her face. “Shoot? Like a ball?”

Biting your lip to keep from chuckling you shook your head. “Kind of? It’s a saying. It means ask your question. Go for it.”

“Oh. Okay.” Alexia nodded, trying to regain her composure. Her hair was falling out of the ponytail it was in, you could see a sheen of sweat across her forehead, and you were completely bewildered at how someone could look so beautiful after several hours of intense exercise. “Vale, you said you would be home for New Years Eve? There is a party, Patri is throwing a party. And I wanted to invite you. So… I am. Inviting you.”

There were no errors in Alexia’s words, and you couldn’t help but feel that she had rehearsed what she’d just said before. It was a bit awkward, too, but Alexia was always a bit awkward. At least around you.

“I’d love to come.” You smiled back, pretending you weren’t analyzing every single part of what she’d just said.

“Good! I.. want you there.” Alexia said quickly, hoping you’d attribute the flush of her cheeks to the heat and the workout. You didn’t even notice it though, too busy staring at her eyes, and how one of them was a bit lighter than the other.

“I’ll be there then.”

The two of you smiled at each other, more oblivious than any two people had potentially ever been before. With a few more words exchanged, you headed in for the locker room and Alexia bounded back over to Mapi like an overexcited dog. There was something… different about this. You and Alexia hung out all the time, but the way she’d asked about New Years…as if it meant something. It was several weeks away, though, so you had plenty of time to think about it and figure out what specifically Alexia’s game was here.

—

And think about it, you did. All through the break. Christmas may not have even occurred and you wouldn’t have noticed. All you could think about was her on New Years. What would she wear? Why had she invited you so… formally? What would she wear? Was this… could it possibly be what you secretly hoped it was? What would you wear?

By the time the 31st came around, you were still just as confused as you’d been before the break. You and Alexia had talked, often, but it didn’t feel different the way her question about the party had. Even when you fell asleep on facetime together on Christmas Eve, it didn’t feel… weighted, like her invitation had. It felt normal, comfortable. Safe. Alexia always felt very safe.

That was what you focused on, as you got dressed for the party. You forced your brain to stop overthinking, and just reminded yourself of several things. You always felt safe with Alexia. You always had fun with Alexia. There was no way your feelings were requited so there was nothing to be nervous about. You were alarmingly calm, as you walked into Patri’s apartment, a nice bottle of champagne and a bag of grapes in your hand.

That calmness lasted all of 10 seconds, after which you spotted Alexia in a lace crop top and black jeans and you forgot how to breathe.

—

Alexia was nervous. She didn’t really get nervous, but here she was, watching you walk in through the front door and feeling her pulse quicken rapidly. You were greeted by Patri, hugging her tightly and handing over the things you’d brought, unaware of your captain’s eyes on you.

“Be cool.” Mapi instructed. “Casual, but confident. Be yourself but don’t–”

“Get away from me before I pour your drink on you.” Alexia mumbled, fixing a smile on her face as she watched you look in her direction, raising your hand in an adorable little wave. She’d thought about how this would go for weeks, since you’d agreed to come to the party. She thought and thought and thought, and somehow, as you walked towards her, she was completely blank on what to say.

“Hey, you.” You greeted, smiling that soft smile Alexia never really saw you give anyone else. She swallowed hard, forcing her brain to start functioning again.

“Hi… um. How are you? How was your flight?”

“God, awful. Delayed and I got moved to a middle seat and I barely slept at all. I’m so exhausted, I almost didn’t come, but I knew you were looking forward to it so I drank some coffee and threw an outfit on and here I am.”

It was a long winded answer not at all justified by the question, yet you felt that familiar comfort take over as you looked at Alexia, at her soft hair falling to her shoulders and the hazel of her eyes. All she had to do was look at you, and you were talking, telling her every detail of your day.

“Well, I am glad you came, but I am sorry you are tired. And it does not look like you threw that outfit on. You look… good. Really good.” Alexia blushed, gripping her champagne flute tightly in her hands.

You blinked, a shy smile spreading across your face. Maybe… maybe you hadn’t misunderstood the undertone of her invitation to this party. The thought barely took hold in your head before it was pushed away.

“I have to go find Mapi for something. I’ll see you later.” Alexia said suddenly, turning and walking away from you so fast, she was out of sight before you could even process what had happened.

Honestly, you weren’t sure what was going on now. It had seemed like, for a minute.. maybe. But no. She’d rushed away like she couldn’t get away from you fast enough, and you cursed yourself for getting your hopes up, even if it was just for a minute. You had to resign yourself to the fact that Alexia was your friend and nothing more.

With a deep breath, you turned away from the spot Alexia had vacated, looking around for Pina. You needed a shot. And she’d give you one, surely.

—

“Ale, breathe.” Mapi insisted, eyes flickering back and forth as Alexia paced the length of Patri’s bedroom, her panic taking over completely at this point. The defender had very aggressively pulled away from the conversation she was in with Ingrid, finding herself in Patri’s bedroom with Alexia before she had a chance to yank her arm back. Alexia, it seemed, was panicking.

“I told her she looked really good! What was I thinking letting you talk me into this. She doesn’t like me, María, she doesn’t. This is insane, and I’m not doing it.”

Mapi rolled her eyes. “You better or I’m locking the two of you in this bedroom until you do it.”

“I can’t kiss her!” Alexia half shouted, throwing her hands up in the air and flopping down onto Patri’s bed.

Mapi sat on the edge of the bed next to her, an amused smirk pulling at her mouth. “Do you not know how to–”

Alexia removed her hands from her face, her glare intimidating enough that Mapi trailed off without Alexia having to say anything.

“Look, Ale, it’s a good plan. You kiss her. It’s midnight on New Years, it's what people do.”

“It’s cliche.”

“But that is what's perfect. You kiss her. She likes it, you’re good. She asks you what the hell you’re doing, you say… Everyone needs a New Year's kiss. It’s tradition.”

“That’s insane, she isn’t going to buy that!”

Mapi sighed, frustration bubbling over. “It won’t come to that! She likes you, Ale, she wants you. Just trust me.”

Alexia inhaled deeply, trying to calm her nervous system down. This wasn’t her. She was Alexia. She was confident and sure of herself, even if you had a magical ability to see right through all that. Alexia had learned a long time ago that if you carried yourself with confidence, you’d become confident.

She stood with a renewed purpose, taking a few more calming breaths. “Okay.”

Without another word, she left the room, leaving her best friend sitting on the bed, utterly confused as to what had just happened. Mapi checked her watch. 11:55. She’d find out soon enough what Alexia had decided, she thought.

—

When Alexia reappeared, she seemed much calmer. Maybe it was the two shots you’d taken in a row at Pina’s insistence, but she seemed like herself as she wrapped an arm around your shoulders and casually steered you to the corner of the room.

“This is the best spot for the countdown.” She declared, hoping you wouldn’t ask why because she didn’t have a reason other than… everyone would be facing forward, watching the TV, and not looking at the two of you. Luckily, you just nodded your head, looking around the room. It was quite full of people, and you wondered if maybe Patri could set you up with one of her friends. You had to get over this crush, you decided, because it was going to ruin your friendship with Alexia if you didn’t. It was a minute or two to midnight, surely you could find some random girl to kiss. This was Patri’s party after all.

But Alexia was staring at you, you noticed out of the corner of your eye. You turned to her, seeing that the nervous energy had returned and she was fiddling with the hem of her shirt, one of her feet tapping on the wood floor.

“I–”

“Are you–?”

Both of you spoke at the same time, laughing slightly as you both gestured for the other to continue.

“You first.” Alexia insisted with a smile. She was wearing some kind of lip gloss and it was… distracting, to say the least.

“I… uh.” You shook your head, trying to clear it of thoughts of Alexia’s lips. “Are you okay? You seem nervous?”

Alexia looked like a deer caught in headlights, frozen for a moment before she bobbed her head up and down. “I am fine! Just excited.”

“If you’re sure.” You looked at her skeptically, briefly reaching out to squeeze her hand. “Anyway, what were you going to say?”

“Sí, vale.” Alexia nodded, trying to ignore the stares of Mapi and Ingrid and Patri and Pina and Kika and the entire team who were more focused on her than the countdown on the TV. She knew Mapi would open her big mouth and now she had an audience.

She took another calming breath, letting the attentive look on your face relax her. Just as she opened her mouth to say something, something about liking you or maybe about kissing you, she wasn’t sure, you spoke.

“Where are your grapes?” You asked, realizing with a jolt that it was a minute to midnight and Alexia was grapeless.

Alexia froze. “My… what?”

“Your grapes! The twelve grapes at midnight, under the table in under a minute. Did you forget to bring some? I brought extra, in case anyone forgot theirs, let me go get them–”

Of course you’d brought grapes for a tradition you didn’t even participate in. It was one of those things that was so thoughtful and so you, Alexia was almost overcome with adoration. She couldn’t wait any longer. She couldn’t pretend any longer. As you turned to rush to the kitchen, knowing you didn’t have much time, Alexia grabbed your hand and spun you back around to face her.

Your question died in your throat as she cupped your face in her hands and leaned in and kissed you. Kissed you. Alexia kissed you. You were stunned for a moment before your instincts took over and you wrapped your arms around her neck, pulling her body flush into yours. It was the most natural thing in the world, kissing Alexia. Feeling her soft lips on yours, her thumbs brushing across your cheekbones. Feeling her. It was… right. She pulled away, her eyes fluttering open and finding yours, just a few inches away.

You looked awestruck, and she couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not, though she was absolutely sure you’d been kissing her back. Arms still linked together around her neck, you shook your head slightly, as if waking yourself from a daze.

“You… kissed me.” You murmured.

“It is New Year's.” Alexia said, biting her lip as she stared at you, waiting for any kind of decisive reaction.

“It’s not midnight yet.”

“I could not wait any longer.”

The voices of the crowd echoed around you, counting down as the clock struck midnight, but all you could do was stare at Alexia in astonishment. You couldn’t really formulate any thought other than… oh my god.

Words were failing you, so you surged forward, kissing Alexia again. It was even better the second time, if possible. Her arms held you securely against her, and you felt the smile on her face just before she pulled away again.

“I really like you.” You mumbled, voice barely audible as the countdown ended and everyone cheered, wishing each other a happy new year.

“I really like you, too.” Alexia replied, pressing her forehead to yours. “I have been wanting to do that for a while.”

You smiled, too, allowing her to pull you closer. You hugged her tight, pressing your face into her shoulder. You still couldn’t quite believe it. But over Ale’s shoulder, you could see your teammates high-fiving and cheering, and you knew it had nothing to do with the New Year.

This wasn’t some fever dream. It was real.

“Your grapes.” You said again, pulling back from the warm hug to look at Alexia.

She just laughed, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “I think kissing you is luckier than grapes.”

You melted at that, pushing a strand of fading blonde hair away from her face. “Kissing on New Year's… kind of cliche, no?”

Alexia rolled her eyes. “Shut up.”

Before you could decide whether to shut up or not, she was doing it for you. Alexia kissed you again, ignoring the wolf whistles from your teammates. She’d found her new favorite thing. And if she had to make a resolution, it would be to kiss you every second of every day.

You felt the same; if anything could bring you luck in the New Year… it was Alexia.

—

i wrote this in like two hours i hope it isn't terrible!!!!

#woso imagine #woso x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #woso one shot #woso fanfics

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justgiulia · 1 month ago

Note

HIII I HAD A THOIGHT THAT HAS BEEN KILLING MY MIND AND I NEED TO TELL IT TO SOMEONE OTHERWISE IM GNA EXPLODE

get this . everyone chilling at ramshackle dorm doing their own thing, yuu (and grimm by extension), ace and deuce sitting by the table talking about whatever crosses their mind

Eventually the conversation escalates to birthdays and holidays and ace asks how old Yuu is. Azul interjects with saying Yuu's age from the contract they signed a few months ago, but then Yuu pipes up and tells them that they're one year older than that.

Theres a small moment of confusion until it dawns onto Deuce that Yuy's birthday was a month or two ago and they never spoke a peep about it. Not even to grimm!! And when asked, Yuy makes an excuse like "that was when __ was kind of close to overblotting and I didn't want to make it about me because that'd be so nitpicky—"

It was based off an audio i heard and idk if i want to write it into a short drabble for myself i probably cant since im only on book 2 ueue). But like. its a fun prompt methinks. what would all of them do when they find out Yuu deliberately didn't say a thing about their birthday

🎊

You didn't tell them about your birthday?!

characters: Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade, Azul Ashengrotto, Grimm.

author's note: let's just pretend I didn't just post a request from almost 2 years ago 😭 I'm deeply sorry. also, I apologize for not uploading anything this month but I'm working on something big 🙏

warnings: none

Ace Trappola

For his Immediate Reaction, he is offended in the most dramatic way possible. He gasps like you’ve committed the ultimate betrayal.

Once he processes that you skipped celebrating because of an overblot situation, Ace feels a bit guilty. He won’t outright admit it, but his teasing becomes a little softer as a result.

He insists on throwing you an over-the-top, borderline ridiculous party.

“I’m talking about party hats for everyone and cake so big Grimm can’t finish it—well, maybe.”

His idea of a celebration is half a joke, but you know he’s secretly serious about making it memorable and deep down, he’s touched by how considerate you were and wants to make sure you never feel overlooked again.

Deuce Spade

Deuce is visibly upset, almost like he’s the one who forgot your birthday, feeling terrible for not realizing sooner.

“But Prefect, birthdays are important! You deserve to be celebrated!”

He gets way too worked up about making it up to you, like it’s a mission, he might also wonder if he’s a bad friend for not noticing your birthday had passed. He’ll pay more attention to your subtle hints in the future (even if you weren’t giving any).

"I won’t let this happen again. Next time, we’ll do something amazing. I swear.”

You swear his sincerity makes you feel just as guilty for not telling him.

Azul Ashengrotto

Acts unbothered on the surface but lowkey blames himself for not catching on sooner, especially since he prides himself on knowing useful details about everyone (and blackmailing them).

Azul will subtly try to make it up to you in his own way. Maybe he gives you a small but meaningful gift with a nonchalant...

“Consider this a late birthday present.”

He might tease you about this later saying something like...

“Oh, Prefect, you wouldn’t hide something as important as a birthday from us again, would you? It’s not wise to keep secrets from your allies.”

But the teasing is his way of showing he cares.

Grimm

“You didn’t even tell me, your best pal?! Unbelievable!”

He paces around the room dramatically, occasionally glaring at you with exaggerated betrayal.

As much as he tries to play it off as annoyance, it’s clear he’s genuinely hurt that you didn’t trust him with such important information.

“I live here! I’m supposed to know these things!”

His solution to everything is cake.

“Alright, let’s bake a cake right now. Wait, no—you bake the cake, and I’ll taste-test it!”

Grimm will insist on celebrating your birthday retroactively, even if it’s something small. He’ll demand a party and act like it’s all for you, but deep down, he just wants to feel like he’s making things right.

Overall, they argue over how to properly celebrate your next birthday. Ace wants chaos, Deuce wants heartfelt, Grimm just wants food, and Azul suggests something elegant but practical.

Despite their differences, they all agree on one thing: they’re not letting you keep secrets like this again. You can expect everyone to be hyperaware of your birthday next year—and they’ll make sure it’s unforgettable.

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jeonstudios · 3 months ago

Text

fontana di trevi | 01

you seek out a vampire to help you with something.

pairing: vampire!jk x sadgirl, blood donor!reader

genre: vampire au, angst, fluff (really a sadgirl fic lol)

word count: 7.6k

warnings: blood, needles, talking about how you euthanize cows and such? suicidal thoughts (not graphic or elaborated? very straightforward?)

rating: NC-17 – Adults Only

masterlist

part 1/2

It’s a freezing cold December night when you step into the dark alleyway, your thighs having gone numb under your jeans a while ago. The sun set hours ago, and the only light present is that of a few scattered streetlights.

Your pulse quickens as you take another cautious step. Something moves further in, where the light barely reaches, and since there’s no snow yet, you hear the slight crunch of frozen fall leaves under… footsteps. From the dark, a tall figure approaches slowly in a way that would have anyone’s blood chilling.

“I have a proposition,” you state, trying to stand somewhat tall.

"A proposition?” a low voice inquires, and you have to tilt your head up to look at the face that emerges from the shadows. “I’ll fuck you, but I’m not turning you for sex.”

“That’s not what—I don’t want sex or to be turned.”

He directs his full attention to you, and in turn, you get a better glimpse of his features. He looks like a man; incredibly handsome with jet black hair, eyebrows, and eyes, but his skin is paler than anything you’ve seen, and there’s the tiniest smudge of something red tinting the corner of his mouth. Though his eyebrow is raised, he doesn’t look very entertained.

“You can have my blood. All of it, if you just take it quickly.”

He lifts his hand to slowly wipe the red from his face. The outfit he wears—a black leather jacket and black pants—looks human but is definitely too cold to wear this time of year.

“What makes you think I wouldn’t simply take it if I wanted to? Why would I need your permission?”

“I’m just saying. Take it if you want it?”

He looks at you, seemingly at least a little intrigued by the odd human in front of him. You definitely understand that most people run the other way at the sight of this big, intimidating being.

“You realize ‘all of it’ means you’ll be dead, right?”

You nod. “Do we have a deal?”

“Regardless of if I wanted to or not, I literally just… ate, so I physically can’t. Not for another week or so.”

You feel your shoulders drop slightly, and you blink, trying to improvise a plan.

“Okay, well… Do you want to meet here in a week, then?”

At that, he tilts his head. “You want to die here, in a dirty alleyway?”

“I don’t care. So yes or no?”

“If you want me to do this, give me something in return first, okay?”

You look at him in confusion. “You’re getting my blood?”

“Who's to say your blood is even good?”

Trying not to let his words discourage you, you look around, thinking. Maybe you should’ve played harder to get? At least in the sense of giving him a hunt? You don’t want to waste any time, but he might not be your best option.

“Fine, do you know if there are other vampires around here? How do I find them?”

It took you three weeks to even find this one, and maybe it was more luck than anything, so setting off on another search doesn’t sound too exciting. These creatures really do live in the shadows.

“No, listen. Whether your blood is delicious or not, it would certainly be helpful to have it. But…”

“But?”

“Let me stock up on it first. Meet me at my place and let me take some every week for two months and then I’ll take the rest.”

You look around again, unsure if you should just try to find someone else. Two months is not ideal; it’s too long, and you’re sure you could manage to find someone else in the meantime.

The vampire senses your hesitation and takes a step closer.

“You want it to be quick, which means you’re scared of pain. People around here, my kind, tend to drag it out. Pain and fear equal adrenalin, which gives the blood a certain… flavor that some enjoy. Agree to my compromise, and I’ll make it quick and practically painless.”

He gives you the smallest of smiles, barely a hint of one, but it feels wicked and makes a cold shiver run down your spine. You know he’s not trustworthy, but he’s getting a lot out of the deal, and you have nothing to lose, really.

“Okay. What’s the address?”

In the middle of the day a week later, you find yourself in front of a big two-story house. It’s nice, looks pretty expensive but… like a regular house? It’s painted white and definitely not blood-red or even black. Aligning more with your expectations is how the house is partially obscured from the road by huge, towering spruces and how it seems to lie just a little bit further from the neighboring houses. There’s a thin layer of snow on the ground now, but you’re not sure whether it’ll stick.

After confirming that no, there is no door bell, you lift your fist to knock on the door. Vampires have crazy good hearing anyway, right? You’d assume so, given the fact that they’re always portrayed as super fast, super strong, super… attractive, and with super hearing, super vision, just… super all around. The mythical creatures don’t officially exist to the world, but in your little town, everyone knows they do. And they do. You found one. So if they drink blood and are super attractive—at least this one—it’s not too weird to assume there’s more truth to their pop-culture portrayal.

You can see how the town’s vampire believers and enthusiasts shake their heads in disappointment at your relative indifference, but truth be told, you’d probably be more curious about the vampire whose home you’re about to step into if the situation was different. Or maybe you’d have some self-preservation and run the other way?

The door opens almost soundlessly, and when you look up, you meet those black, bottomless eyes. It really is his color, you think, your gaze drawn to the short-sleeve, black button-down he’s wearing, the top three buttons or so left undone. With it, he’s wearing black pants on the looser side. He looks incredibly handsome, and very effortlessly so. His hair is shiny and looks soft, and like it naturally falls into that slight side-part.

“Are you gonna come in or just stand there and ogle me?” He isn’t smiling teasingly; he just looks at you, unimpressed.

“Sorry.”

He turns to retreat back into the house, and you’re left to enter through the open door. There are no lights on inside, and when you close the door behind you, cutting off a majority of the daylight, you start to feel like you’re truly inside a vampire’s home. Still, it’s light enough for you to follow said vampire’s back after hastily removing your coat and folding it to leave over the boots you step out of. Since you assumed he needs access to the veins in your arms, you picked out a gray t-shirt and a black zip-up hoodie that’s a little too big on you, paired with jeans. Nothing fancy—you’re not there to impress him.

With quickened steps, you catch up to him as he wordlessly leads the way into his kitchen, a place you doubt he uses much. Vampires don’t actually eat, do they? Either way, the room is clean and feels almost... sterile, despite the walnut cupboards and dark gray countertops.

On the short end of a wide, matching walnut dining table, a bunch of supplies are laid out. He gestures to one of the two chairs positioned around the corner of the table, but as you sit down, he turns to leave.

“Uhm, I don’t know how to do this,” you admit, pulling the zipper of your hoodie down and slipping one arm out. “I mean, I’m sure it can’t be that complicated in… theory, but I don’t think I can do it on myself.”

“I’m just gonna wash my hands,” he explains, and there seems to be a very slight trace of emotion in his voice and on his face that you interpret as amusement. He thinks you're dumb.

Oh. Well… does it really matter if his hands are squeaky clean or not?

Water hits the sink with a familiar sound as you focus on the table, inspecting the supplies. There’s a needle with a tube attached to it, a tourniquet, some syringes, antiseptic wipes, and a few empty blood bags. A voice in your head wonders if maybe he changed his mind and will simply take everything at this moment because those bags look pretty big, and you’re not sure you can fill them and still walk out of this place.

The water stops, and you sit pretty and wait until he positions the other chair in front of you, a little to the side. You’ve never been a fan of needles or having your blood drawn, so you focus your eyes the other way, to a specific part of his kitchen window and the overcast outside. You hear the sound of paper and plastic ripping, and you feel his cold fingers place and tighten the tourniquet around your upper arm and feel for your veins before he wipes the area clean.

“Scared of needles?” he teases arrogantly, and you see how he reaches for the sharp object on the table.

“Bodily reaction. I can’t help it,” you explain before holding your breath and waiting for the poke.

It comes soon after; an uncomfortable but not too painful prick. With one hand, he moves some things around on the table, and you try to keep as still as possible, loathing the feeling of a needle jolting around in your vein.

“You’re not curious as to why I know how to do this stuff? Or worried that I don’t?” he wonders, releasing the tourniquet and seemingly fastening the needle to your skin with some tape.

“No. I guess it doesn’t surprise me; blood and vampires seem to go hand in hand.”

He surprises you by letting out a quiet chuckle before placing a red stress ball in your hand. “Squeeze this. I’ll be back to change the bag in a few minutes.”

Nodding, you watch him rise from his chair and leave the room.

Left to your own devices and with the filling blood bag taped to the chair’s armrest by its thin tube, you close your eyes.

The house is entirely silent, and you have no idea where the vampire went. After he moved the stuff around on the table, you were able to count exactly three blood bags with a printed 450 ml on them. That adds up to somewhere between one and one and half liters and around 30% of your blood volume if you’ve calculated correctly. According to your brief research, a human doesn’t typically survive losing more than 40% of their blood unless given emergency medical attention. You probably won’t feel too great after today, but you most likely won’t die. You think.

Slowly, the minutes start to tick by, but you feel okay so far. You’ve got a good rhythm going for the stress ball, squeezing, holding, releasing. Squeezing, holding, releasing. The silence has your mind wandering.

“You can stop for a bit.”

The vampire’s sudden voice has your eyes flying open. He hadn’t made a single sound, returning to the kitchen. Catching your breath, you nod, keeping the ball still in your hand. You don’t look at the needle in your arm, but you see the bag full of dark red that the vampire sits down and trades for an empty one, attaching the tubes before he fastens them in the same way to the armrest.

When he’s done, he lifts his hand, and you spot one of his fingertips covered in red. For a split second, he observes it, and then he puts the finger to his tongue. At first, it’s weird to see, and you almost want to tell him that it’s not hygienic to taste other people’s blood. That is before you remember that other people’s blood is what sustains him.

He looks to be assessing something, and suddenly, you’re worried he might not like it.

“B positive," he focuses on you, but you give him a slight, confused shrug because you have no idea what blood type you are or what it means in this context.

“Is that… okay?”

“It’s… meh. Not the most common but also not the rarest. Most of my kind prefer A or even AB, though.”

“Oh."

Of course, your blood is substandard. You nod toward the filled bag on the table. “Will you have any use for this then?”

Truly, it would be just your luck to not even have the scary creatures, who roam the night in search of victims to drain, want your blood.

“Yeah. Doesn’t matter. I can always use it as a backup if I don’t get the chance to feed in time. Squeeze.”

Per his order, you resume squeezing. The rest of the process goes relatively smoothly, although you’ve started feeling a lot… weaker by the time the second bag is full and the vampire is about to switch it for the third.

There’s a lot about blood and the human body that you don’t know, and you’re silently wondering what the recovery rate is and if you can really give him this much every week. Does he plan on taking less next time or has he not taken it into consideration?

“Why do you want to die?”

You blink at his bluntness, looking at his uncaring face. He obviously doesn’t care to hear the longer story, and you don’t care to tell it, so you settle for a shorter, more condensed version.

“There’s something wrong with me. I don’t belong here.”

“Didn’t taste like it.”

“Maybe not physically.”

He doesn’t dig further, but when your blood starts trickling into the third bag, the vampire stays seated. You still close your eyes, afraid that you’ll stare at his face otherwise, and he didn’t particularly seem to like that.

You’re not sure if it’s just the blood loss or a combination of having slept poorly for the last few weeks and being in a calm, silent environment, but you’re feeling tired. Really tired. And cold.

“Squeeze harder,” his voice instructs, void of emotion. You do your best to follow his instructions, squeezing the ball tighter even though it’s getting difficult.

“We’re done.”

You open your eyes, finding the vampire much closer than before and his fingers swiftly removing the needle from your arm.

“Okay, so… uh…” you start, finding it hard to choose words or even think of what you want to convey in the first place. “Do I come back… same time… next week?”

“No. Make it two weeks.”

You look at him, confusion written across your features, but it’s hard to focus your eyes on his face. It’s blurry, and there are dark spots infiltrating your vision.

“I took as much as I could, and while you won’t have time to replenish everything in two weeks either, I’ll at least get more out of you than in just one week.”

He smiles, and if you had the energy and maybe (mostly) the common sense, you’d be scared by the way he truly looks so wicked.

“Okay. I’ll see you then.”

The vampire takes the stress ball from you and rises from the chair with the used supplies in his hands. You grip the armrests best you can, but your right hand slips, and you stumble a little, trying to stand. It’s so incredibly cold, and you feel dizzy, nauseous, and weak, putting your hoodie back on properly.

Very quietly, you hear him move around the kitchen, and while he hasn’t explicitly told you to leave, you’re very much assuming he wants nothing else. So on unsteady legs, you make your way back to the front door, where you grab your coat to haphazardly put it on, and you step into your boots, unable to bend down to tie them properly.

You’re able to make it to your old but trustworthy car that you parked on the street, but when you sit down in the driver’s seat and close the door behind you, you realize that you definitely can’t drive as it’s proving more and more difficult to even keep your eyes open. You can’t walk home, you have no one to come pick you up, and even if there probably is a bus stop somewhere around here, you don’t think you’d make it there.

So with your last burst of energy, you pull the lever under the seat to push it back a little, leaving your boots on the floor as you bring your feet and knees up. Your coat finds a new purpose as a makeshift blanket, and you cover as much of your body as you can with it. Fully knowing that as you close your eyes, you might never open them again, you don’t care that much. Dying is what you want, anyway.

Surprisingly, you do open your eyes again. It’s dark when you do, and it’s so, so cold. Your heart is beating hard as it tries to circulate blood that just isn’t there anymore, and it’s with a low groan that you move, trying to reach for the phone in the pocket of your coat.

It’s seven p.m.. You met with the vampire at two p.m., and the visit took less than an hour, which means that you got into your car at maybe a bit before three, and so you’ve been passed out for four hours. It takes you a while to come to properly, and even when you do, you feel weak, groggy, and stiff. Ideally, you shouldn’t drive, but you have no other means of getting home, so you decide on a route consisting of smaller roads with lower speed limits and less traffic.

It’s no wonder you feel like you’re on death’s doorstep because when you do some further Googling on blood donation and blood volumes at home, you calculate exactly how much someone of your size would have. And you find that the vampire took 38% of that.

Three weeks later, you’re knocking on his door again. He opens it, an eyebrow raised and looking even more unimpressed than last time.

“I’m sorry I didn’t show last week, but I was sick,” you inform, hoping he’ll accept your apology. “Didn’t think you would’ve wanted to see… that.”

“You’re right.”

That’s all he says before he turns, leaving the door open for you just like last time. Well, you take that as a sign that you’re forgiven, and so you follow him inside.

Trying to keep up with him, you’re feeling even smaller and weaker around the tall vampire than before, and truth be told, you are. Because according to those Google searches, while it takes the body only approximately 24-48 hours to replace the blood plasma, it takes four to six weeks to replenish the red blood cells and recover fully. And that’s from having one bag of 450ml donated; you left three and it’s only been three weeks since. Essentially, the vampire is taking your blood a lot faster than you can produce it.

Like last time, you sit down on the same chair in his kitchen, but since he wasn’t expecting you, he has to retrieve the supplies from elsewhere. You remain quiet while he organizes everything, stealing a few glances at him in the meantime. This time, he’s wearing a black t-shirt and black shorts, and you’re amazed at just how… ordinary he looks. In the best way possible, of course.

Without being too tight, the shirt does a very good job at showing off his physique: it hangs wonderfully off his shoulders and dips slightly between his pecs. It exposes the prominent veins stretching across both his arms and hands, and you wonder if vampires also ‘live’ in the way that he has a heart that pumps blood around his body. Or if he’s really ‘dead’ or ‘undead’ like some media describe them?

“What?” he questions, having caught you staring.

“You look very human,” you say quietly. “Like a college guy.”

An athletic college guy. The one who’s just a little too handsome to be exact.

The trace of amusement that flashes across his face is so faint that you’re not sure you didn’t simply imagine it. He doesn’t respond to your observation, only sitting down and reaching for your arm. His large hands feel a little warmer against your skin than you remember them doing last time, and you turn your head when he prepares the needle. There’s a pinch and then the immediate relief when he loosens the tourniquet.

“Here,” the red stress ball is placed into your hand again. Looking down briefly, you watch your own hand squeeze it, but the red fluid flowing through the transparent tube is too off-putting, and so you close your eyes again.

A minute or so passes while you keep squeezing the ball to some sort of rhythm tied to your breaths. It won’t be long. Soon, everything will be over.

Somewhere, you lose track of time, and to regain some sense of reality, you flutter your eyelids open. Only to see the vampire stare coldly at you. You freeze.

“I thought you left,” you admit, the surprise clear in your voice.

“I’m keeping an eye on you,” he explains, face still stoic.

You look at him dumbly. “No offense, but why? The point is to kill me, anyway?”

“No, it’s to take as much as possible,” he corrects you. “To a reasonable extent. And then kill you. Here, let me change the bag.”

You close your eyes once more as he switches the full bag to a new, empty one. The dizziness comes a lot quicker than it did three weeks ago, but then again, you’ve been feeling more or less weak and faint ever since that first donation.

“Okay, we’re done.”

You look at him, surprised. “Already? But you didn’t even fill the second bag fully?”

“I took too much last time, and like I said, I want to get as much out of you as possible.”

For the first time, you think you see a hint of a discreet fang when he gives you a blood-chilling smile.

The process of removing everything is quick, and before you know it, you’re putting your feet into your boots again. You feel faint, like your knees might buckle under you any second, but you don’t feel weak to the point of passing out for hours in your car; you do that when you’re home in bed instead.

Suffering from what you gather is immense anemia, you don’t have the energy to really do anything between your visits to the vampire besides lie on the couch and watch TV. You quit your retail job the Monday after finding him in that alleyway, confident (and correctly so) that you wouldn’t be able to handle really any job at all.

Even rotting away on the couch with your eyes glued to the screen, you can barely understand what the shows are about. Your brain struggles to place the people and remember the plot lines, and you find yourself almost daydreaming instead. Though it’s mostly just flashing images of the vampire whose name you still don’t know.

If your heart wasn’t already so strained, it would beat harder for him in some kind of fear-filled attraction. He’s absolutely gorgeous—and there’s definitely something almost drawing you to him—but he’s also so, so intimidating. If the end goal wasn’t to die, you’d for sure be running for the hills and looking over your shoulder late at night.

Next time, there’s a slight smile pulling on the vampire’s lips when he opens the door.

“Still alive?”

You chuckle quietly, looking down at your boots. “Unfortunately.”

Taking off your coat reveals another simple outfit with no other purpose than granting the vampire access to your arms while keeping your freezing body warm. This time, it’s a thick, brown cardigan over a t-shirt, paired with somewhat baggy jeans.

The contrast between your clothes is almost funny. Even indoors, you’d be freezing in the half-open thin, white dress shirt he wears messily tucked into black, also thin-looking slacks. The gap in his shirt makes you want to reach out and touch his pale chest, but of course, you keep your hands to yourself.

Once again, you follow him inside, and while you don’t need him to, he guides you to the same spot in his kitchen where the stuff is all laid out.

Sitting down, you slip your arm out of the cardigan and place it on the armrest. The vampire washes his hands and then comes to sit down in front of you, reaching for the tourniquet to position it around your bicep. With the elastic band tightened, he rips open an antiseptic wipe to clean the inside of your elbow, and then, he prepares the needle like always.

You look away, holding your breath until the pinch comes and for a few seconds after.

“The whole thing about vampires losing control around blood… I take it that’s just storytelling?”

“Depends,” he answers, and despite not looking at him, you just know he’s got one eyebrow raised and a hint of a cocky smile on his lips. “If we’re hungry and someone happens to bleed around us, yeah, it can be more… tempting. Also depends on what sort of blood we prefer.”

“And you don’t like mine,” you state, your foggy brain concluding it the reason he seems to not care about the vulnerable blood right in front of him.

He laughs this time, a really nice sound that has your strained heart almost skipping an important beat. “I changed my weekly feeding to Thursdays, so I’m still quite full. And your blood isn’t vile, it’s just not what I personally go crazy for.”

“Oh,” you let out, looking at him before something dawns on you. “Wait. You eat once a week only? How much do you eat then? Or… drink?”

He nods toward the bag he just secured to your arm. “Someone of my size typically only needs about two of these a week to survive and not maniacally hunt and kill, but to really thrive? Between two and three liters, so four to six bags. I usually go hunting Friday or Saturday night when most bars and pubs are full. It’s surprisingly easy to find a few drunks stumbling around who won’t even realize what happened the day after.”

“So you don’t… kill?”

“Not if we can help it. There’s been… an increase in vampires around here, and if people drop dead? No, it’s less suspicious and only a little more work to find a few victims instead of draining one dry.”

“Makes sense.”

“Mhm. I typically don’t have to beg women to come with me, either.”

Something ice cold travels through your body at that last sentence. You wonder whose blood was on his lips that night when you found him.

“I can’t believe you’re telling me this, though? You seem like you’d tell me to mind my own business.”

Even more, you can’t believe you asked.

He smiles. “I don’t know. Like I said, people will occasionally find out what I am, find me fascinating, and ask a thousand questions. I’ve always thought it to be incredibly annoying, and I’m not really supposed to tell them anything even if I wanted to—which I don’t—but it’s been… odd, not being questioned by you. At all. Almost boring, like I’m not interesting to you.”

His answer surprises you, and for a moment, you imagine teenage you, not bubbly per se but at least a bit more naive than the current version. Would she be the type to annoy him? You don’t think so.

“Objectively, you are interesting, but I can’t believe how brave people are? If things were different, I wouldn’t have gone out looking for a vampire in the first place. And if I somehow stumbled upon you, I would’ve run the other way because you’d terrify me.”

Slowly, he smirks at your honesty.

“I scare you?”

You’d be lying if you claimed the cold, calculating aura around him didn’t.

You’re not sure if he has any super powers like in the movies, but honestly, he wouldn’t need to be able to lift a bus to kill you. The scariest thing about him isn’t how he could end your life in a hundred different ways either way, it’s how he could drag it out and extend your suffering before doing so. Of course, your body and instincts find him scary, but in a way, your mind… doesn’t? Then again, you’re here because your mind wants him to kill you.

“I don’t know.”

“Hm,” is all he says, his eyes falling to the blood bag. “I have to change it. Hold on.”

“Okay,” you mumble, finding it hard to concentrate. Your heart beats so hard it hurts, but at the same time, your breathing is slowing down. Closing your eyes, you feel him move stuff around.

“How are you feeling?” he suddenly asks, but it doesn’t sound like he cares too much.

“Honestly? Terrible,” you admit, keeping your eyes closed.

You keep still when you feel his hands on your arm, but then you hear a little… rip.

“Fuck.”

Curiously, you open your tired eyes, seeing the vampire hold the empty bag up to inspect it.

“This was the last one I had. This brand is fucking terrible quality; how do you make blood bags so weak they rip?”

“You don’t have anything else to collect it in?”

He sighs defeatedly, “No, it needs to be in these kinds of bags so I can store and freeze it properly.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“I’ll have to stock up on them and maybe take more next time.”

You nod slowly and understandingly. That will probably be the last time, then.

About a week and a half later, you find yourself on a bench downtown, your hands in the pockets of your coat to keep them warm. It’s Saturday, and on the other side of the street, a few people are standing in line to be let inside your town’s best version of a nightclub. You’re not certain what exactly brought you here, and you’re sure that if the happy, club-dressed people took the time to observe their surroundings, they’d notice you staring and look at you weirdly in turn.

“Hello?”

Registering the almost rude-sounding voice, you blink as you turn your head. It’s a guy.

“Huh?”

His face looks skeptic, and he’s got his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. He’s not wearing a jacket or coat of any kind over his white t-shirt, so you gather he’s in the middle of a night out. Probably left a bar for a smoke and spotted you.

“I asked you what your name is? Like three times?”

He’s good looking with black hair and dark eyes, but the tone of his voice is very unattractive, and you have no interest in him whatsoever, knowing he isn’t just looking to be your friend.

“Oh. Uh…”

You don’t say it. It’s not that you don’t remember your name or that you’re making a conscious effort to deny him the information, but it’s like your thoughts are at a standstill.

“Beat it.”

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. His lips didn’t move.

“And who are you?” he asks, irritation dripping from his words, and this time, his lips are moving. However, his eyes are not on you but on something behind you.

Just as you’re about to turn around, the man in front of you leaves. His steps are quick, his mission abandoned.

“What are you doing here?”

Of course. It clicks the moment the vampire comes into view, and you’re surprised you didn’t immediately recognize his deep voice. He’s wearing that same leather jacket and some black pants, an outfit still very much inappropriate for winter. Though, something about him feels… wilder, almost a little uncontained? You can’t put your finger on what exactly.

“Uh, people-watching,” you inform as he rounds the bench, sitting down next to you.

Because he’s beautiful like no other, you glance discreetly at his face. He’s so masculine, but in certain lights, you glimpse something softer. You particularly like his nose and its rounded tip. It gives him such an attractive profile, you think, gaze traveling over his features and lingering on his dark eyelashes.

“Why? Isn’t it cold as hell for you?”

“Uhm, I don’t know? And I guess?”

From looking straight ahead, he turns his head, redirecting his full attention to you. The light from the closest street lamp reflects in his dark eyes.

“Is there any truth to that whole ‘vampires are designed to lure humans in’ thing?”

He grins. “I lure you in?”

“You’re more intimidating than you are attractive, actually,” you admit earnestly, wincing a little on the inside at how it came out a bit like an insult. He’s definitely attractive, and maybe the fact that he is so attractive is part of why he’s also so intimidating. “I’m just wondering what you looked like before.”

“I’ve always looked like this,” he explains casually, once again peering out over the cold, dark street. “Vampirism doesn’t change anything besides, like, skin impurities and conditions. I would’ve shown you a picture, but there were no cameras around when I was human,” he smiles cheekily.

“Anyway, you should go home. It’s really cold and not really safe at this time either,” he encourages.

You nod, realizing that he wants to protect his backup supply. “Yeah.”

“Good. I’ll see you next week.”

“Mhm.”

You expect him to get up and leave, confused when five seconds pass and he hasn’t moved. The feeling seems to be mutual because he turns his head to look at you again.

“So, are you leaving or not?”

“I am.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

You look away, clearing your throat a bit awkwardly and realizing that you might just have to tell him, since he doesn’t seem to be leaving before you. “I don’t think I… can. I walked here, but I think I overestimated myself.”

The vampire looks you over briefly, probably just to be sure, but you both know that your main health concerns aren’t visible.

“Where do you live?”

“Oh, not that far. Like less than a ten minute walk, but I…”

“What’s your address?”

“124 Conch Street.”

“Stand up.”

“What?”

“Stand up.”

Puzzled, you follow his instructions and slowly rise to your feet. Though you’ve been sitting stranded on the bench for almost two hours, the dizziness returns the moment you stand.

But the vampire isn’t satisfied. “Get up on the bench and undo your coat up to your waist.”

This time, you give him a skeptic look.

“Just do as I say,” he holds his hand out for you.

Slowly and still confused, you take it, and with his aid, you step up onto the bench.

To your surprise, he lets go, and before you know it, he’s unzipped your coat from the bottom up to your waist, positioned himself in front of you, and grabbed your thighs. Instinctively, you place your arms around his neck as he hoists you onto his back and starts walking.

“What are you doing?” you breathe quietly.

“Taking you home in an inconspicuous way. It looks like we’re a couple, does it not?”

“Definitely an odd and unexpected couple if so, but I guess?”

“You’re a pretty girl, you know?”

Your lungs hold your breath for an extra second before slowly releasing it, and then you hum, but it’s only to actually provide him with an answer. You definitely don’t think you’re anywhere near pretty enough for someone like him. He doesn’t call you out on your vague answer.

You’re not the most common sight, couple or not, and people still watch you as you pass them. Unsure as to how to meet their curious gazes, you don’t; turning your head forward instead. When you’re so close, you inevitably catch his scent, only to find that he doesn’t smell like a whole lot. There are traces of soap, laundry detergent, and maybe a hint of cologne, but not much else. No lingering smell of sweat or anything like that.

He walks you through the city and past the alleyway where you first found him. It’s quiet, except for the muted sound of his footsteps as well as those of a man a bit ahead, evidently hurrying to get home and away from the cold.

“Are there more vampires here?” you wonder, looking around the silent street and thinking it might not be as empty as it seems.

“Yes,” he confirms casually.

It has your brain working, and the surroundings reminding you of why you’re with him in the first place.

“How are you going to kill me?”

If he’s caught off guard by your straightforward question, he does a good job of not showing it.

“I don’t know.”

“Okay. But I’d rather not bleed out,” you say, body aching at the mere thought. Although you’re certain there are much worse ways to go, you really don’t like the feeling of severe blood loss.

“It’s the easiest way though,” he explains. “It’s not as easy to drain a body without a heartbeat to move the blood around.”

“Are you familiar with livestock?” you ask, thinking back to what your three-year-older cousin once told you as you biked past a field of cows one summer when you were ten. “You can kill the animal and then ‘deblood’ them by hanging the body upside down and cutting their throat. The blood will drain easily. Do you have a bathtub?”

“You’re… a person though, still,” he says, and though he doesn’t falter in his steps, you can tell your words don’t sit quite right with him. “There’s no dignity in an ending like that. And don’t you care what happens to your body?”

To say you’re surprised is an understatement. You thought vampires were all bloodthirsty monsters, only biding their time until they can rip someone new apart. The messier, the better. The vampire, who’s carrying you on his back, made no effort to appear nice either. At least not at first. Now, you don’t even know.

You shrug slightly. You’re not a spiritual person, and you’ve never believed in something like an afterlife. “It’s just meat and bones. I won’t be here anymore, and no one’s going to be looking for me, anyway. There’s no use in keeping things ‘pretty.’”

He doesn’t say anything in turn, and you wonder how much about you he knows. How much about your life he realizes.

The vampire’s smooth movement lulls you further into relaxation, and you lean your head partly against your own arm, partly against him. He doesn’t say anything.

Way sooner than if you would’ve walked with your own two legs—if you would’ve made it home at all—he puts you down in front of your apartment complex. You search your pockets, locating your keys in the left one.

“Going home now? Since you can’t enter without permission,” you joke tiredly, unlocking the front entrance with the key fob.

The vampire raises his eyebrows. “I might as well make sure you don’t somehow trip and spill all my blood on the way to your apartment,” he smirks, grabbing the door and opening it wide without breaking eye contact. “And you shouldn’t believe everything you see or read.”

The smile he’s wearing as he makes a show out of stepping inside the building is another chilling one. You can’t say that you expected him to hit an invisible wall or anything, but for some reason, it would’ve almost felt… nice if that were the case. Considering your situation, you’re not sure why.

The elevator is empty and waiting for you, and after getting inside, you press the button for floor two, the vampire coming to stand beside you.

“Is there anything that is true regarding vampires?” you ask quietly as if someone would hear you inside the elevator.

“Besides the fact that we drink blood?”

“Yeah. Are you like, immortal and stuff? Super old?”

He chuckles. “Kinda. I don’t think anything’s truly immortal, but we do have a longer life span, yes.”

“What about senses? Can you hear my heart beat right now?”

“Yes. It sounds like it’s about to burst through your chest.”

Yeah, because it’s strained to hell and back, trying to keep you alive even in the condition you’re in.

“And super speed, super strength and all that?”

“Mhm, although we’re not so fast we go blurry. Are you impressed?”

“I don’t know? What do you use it for? I can’t think of even one thing having those powers would improve in my life.”

“Tough crowd,” he chuckles, avoiding your question as he follows you out of the elevator.

You understand that being physically superior is helpful when you’re a literal predator, and yeah, maybe being able to walk a tiny bit faster to work every morning would’ve saved you some time, but what else? Oh, yeah, one time, you had to throw away a jar of pickles because you simply could not get it open. Being stronger would’ve definitely helped you then.

Reaching your door, you’re quick to unlock it and pull it open to head inside, ignoring the two envelopes lying on the floor in your hallway. The vampire stays at the door, watching as you start to remove your coat two or so steps away from him.

“Are those… bruises?”

Turning your head as you make your way to the wardrobe to put the coat away, you see the vampire looking almost worried. You look down at the skin on your arms.

“Yeah.”

“Let me look at them,” he urges, holding his hand out.

“Why? They come with anemia; why does it matter?”

“Still, I want to see. Come over here.”

Despite looking oddly insistent, he makes no effort to actually enter your apartment.

Your eyes widen as you look at him. “You really can’t come inside without an invitation, can you?”

He sighs exasperatedly. “Technically, no, I can’t step inside unless you give me permission.”

It makes you laugh a little in wonder. “Wow.”

He rolls his eyes, but you can tell it amuses him a little too.

“Listen, I’ll be fine until we meet again and if the bruises are still there, you can look at them then. I kinda don’t actually want to invite you in, is that rude of me?”

“No, it’s not. Very reasonable, actually.”

“Okay, then I’ll see you Friday?”

He nods politely and steps back. “See you.”

You watch him leave, his footsteps sounding through the hall as you bend down to pick up the envelopes you’ve been ignoring for days. They’re probably bills, and you’ll be dead soon, so who really cares if you pay them or not?

Mindlessly, you approach the door to close it, your focus on the white paper in your hands. You put your finger under the fold to rip the first envelope open, wincing when the paper cuts through your skin instead.

Holding your finger up, you inspect the damage and the little bead of red that’s forming next to the invisible cut. You look at it, furrowing your eyebrows at how you feel like something’s… missing? A moment later, you realize what it is, and your body freezes.

The footsteps have stopped.

It dawns on you, as you look at the blood, what the vampire was actually doing tonight and why he looked wilder than usual. Early Saturday night, lurking around the clubs until he found you and had to abandon his plans.

He was hunting.

Your eyes widen and your heart stops as you hear it. One footstep. Then another. And another. They’re speeding up, and soon enough running toward you.

Before you’ve had a chance to shut the door, it flies wide open. Panicked, you move farther into the apartment, but you fall backward and by pure instinct, crawl back as quickly as you can.

Despite claiming that he couldn’t enter without your permission, the vampire falls to his knees, then all fours, to reach you. You’ve never seen anything as scary as the bloodthirsty creature grasping the air, trying to get you. He moves so quickly, and his hand is just about to grab your foot when it’s like… he’s held back by something.

You're breathing heavily, trying to understand what’s happening. Why doesn’t he just move another three centimeters? He licks his lips in frustration, exposing fangs that are definitely longer than you remember. Meeting his eyes, they’re cold like never before, and he exhales angrily. He’s still reaching for you, and frozen in your spot, you look over at him, briefly wondering if his feet got stuck or something when it hits you.

He can’t step inside.

You sit there, your feet mere centimeters from his grasping hand when there’s a sound down the hall, and in a split second, the vampire seems to snap out of it. He looks at you, appearing to realize what he’s doing and somehow gaining control over himself. Looking around, he gets up, and he leaves. Quickly and without a word.

Wide-eyed and with your heart beating painfully, you remain on the floor, wondering what the hell just happened. Even when his footsteps are long gone, you’re too afraid to get up and close the door, worried that he’ll return and be able to reach you.

You’d like a very serious word with whoever established the ‘no entering without permission’ rule but also decided that the vampires could cheat it by keeping their feet outside and crawling inside.

You sleep a little uneasy the following nights, thinking a lot. Of course, your thoughts are mostly occupied by those cold, black eyes, thirsty for your blood.

<previous | next> happy halloween <3<3

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lostintransist · 26 days ago

Text

Broken Beyond Bearing | Part 2

-…. ….- ..—- .—— / .-. . -.-. —- .-. -.. . -.. / -.. . .- -..

Part 1 found here.

CW: Very light sexual content, allergic reaction bad enough to need medical intervention, panic, dissociation

Johnny lay in the nest, warmed by Kyle who had shifted to fill the chill that John left when he had gone to answer the door. Simon lazily trails his nose over Johnny’s scent gland, drawing a light whimper from his throat.

Kyle leans in and presses their lips together, coaxing as his hand begins to trace muscles. Johnny settles a hand on Simon’s thigh, running his fingers through the hair he found there. They were off duty for another two weeks and taking full advantage of Simon’s oncoming rut. He would only be deeply affected for 48 hours but the men always pooled their leave times to give them an extra week off.

This being the third year of them taking a few weeks off for each of their ruts/heats the rest of the large team knew and adjusted for the absence of their leader and core team. Kate kept track of everyone on their specific jobs.

Simon started to harden up behind Johnny. Hands drifting over his body had Johnny closing his eyes and leaning into his lovers. The teeth at his nipple surprised him to the point of recoiling. Simon had the misfortune of resting at the edge of the bed. He hit the floor with a thump. Kyle and Johnny shared a look before they both started to laugh.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. So funny,” Simon stood, rubbing his butt that had taken the brunt of the fall.

The men on the bed smirked as they now watched Simon stand a bit more at attention under their eyes. Before they can get Simon back into the nest John steps into the bedroom, shutting the door hard behind him.

They watch as John strips off his robe and strides into the shared closet. Kyle can only open his mouth before John is answering the yet-unspoken question.

“We need to get dressed. Kate brought us a wife.”

That had all of them moving. What the hell did he mean?

Scrambling into the closet each of them grabs the necessary clothes before shifting to standing around the nest so everyone has the elbow room they need to dress.

“John, what do you mean Kate brought us a wife?” Kyle asks after his head emerges from his turtleneck.

“Kate brought us a beta woman. She would like us to stop being so reckless on jobs. Thinks that having someone to come home to will keep us from killing ourselves on jobs.” John sits to put his socks on, threading a socked foot into his pants before standing and doing them up.

“So what’s the plan then Captain?” Simon questions as he feeds his belt through the loops of his pants. “Obviously we don’t need a beta.”

“A wife wouldn’t be terrible though,” Johnny pointed out as he tucked his thin layer into his pants and grabbed his own jumper. A bonnie to hold and smile at them when they stumble in through the door? That sounded amazing to him.

“The plan is Johnny and Kyle will be taking her to town for some clothes and a bed. Kate insists she gets a bed and a space to retreat to. Simon, I want you to see what you can sniff out from her clothes. Maybe check what Kate has been up to lately.” John pauses, shirt tucked into his armpits as he prepares to lift it over his head. “Something about her smells…wrong. You have a more sensitive nose than I do, I need your opinion on her. I’ll start working on cleaning out the room behind the kitchen.”

“What are Kyle and I watching for then John?” Johnny runs a hand over his hair, deciding that he wouldn’t need to do much about it since he would be putting on a beanie shortly.

“Anything we can glean from her. She didn’t say much after Kate left. Watched me until I came upstairs, lot of thoughts behind those eyes though. You’ll see what I mean.” John opened the door that led to the stairs.

They all trailed after him. John had been right. Something smelled off about you. Almost broken? It reminded Johnny of the time Simon said his sauce had “broke” and the fats and water and flavors no longer sat well together.

You are standing at the front window, staring out over the vast stretch of forest they owned all around the property. They had chosen this spot deliberately five years ago when they were buying land to build their home on. It backed up to a national forest and they would never have to worry about neighbors.

Johnny approaches you around the couch. You pull back slightly from the window and notice the fog your breath left on the glass. A finger is lifted, leaving a frowny face in its wake. When you turn to look at him Johnny sees what John meant about your eyes.

You don’t leak scents of displeasure or fear like anyone else would in this situation; no, the feelings bubble in your eyes instead. Your stress sat in your shoulders and the slight bend in your knees, not in your scent gland.

“‘ello, you can call me Johnny. We’re going to town to get you supplies for your room.” He smiles gently at you. You only narrow your eyes in response. “Where did Kate put your coat?”

You look from eye to eye three times before answering. “Kate didn’t get me a coat. Only had cash and she said I needed clothes more.”

Johnny liked Kate. He had never wanted to slap her more than in this moment though. Nodding once he lifted a hip to rest on the couch as he folded his arms. You wince as his anger is communicated through the air. Simon complained that his anger tasted of burning rubber.

“I have a coat you can borrow until we get you one in town. Would that be okay?” He probes gently.

The narrowing of your eyes is exactly what he expected. You were going to take a long time to trust them.

“How about we get the truck started and then you only need to wear it between the house and the car?” Johnny offered.

“Fine.” You cross your arms and cast your gaze back to the snow beyond the window.

Twisting Johnny catches Kyle’s eye as he lurks in the kitchen.

“Grab my coats would you?” He tilts his head to their new wife as if Kyle hadn’t heard the conversation echo due to the acoustics of the home.

Kyle grabs both coats from the closet near the front door and drops a kiss on Johnny’s lips before leaving to start the truck. John catches him with a kiss and a whisper. Johnny offers both coat options to you and watches with a smile as you grab the coat that smells less strongly of him.

By unspoken agreement Kyle and Johnny let you learn about them through the conversations they have during the drive. It takes nearly an hour despite the roads being clear and dry. The tourists creeping their way up the mountain roads always slowed things down. Kyle dropped you and Johnny off to head further into town to pick up a bed frame and a mattress.

Johnny watches you as you drift from store to store. They lived close to a ski resort and had several stores that sold everything from socks to pants and coats. You picked soft clothes, muted colors, and several of the same socks and underwear. He only saw your face light up once. You were softly stroking a garishly bright shawl as you held it up to the mirror. When you saw Johnny lift his brows at you in said mirror you put it back and moved on. He made note of its position in the store before following you.

When Kyle came back Johnny filled the back seat with the various bags.

“‘bout time for lunch, any preference?” Kyle asks you.

You shake your head looking much warmer in real winter boots and a long coat. Johnny had insisted at the last store visited that you needed a hat and a scarf as well. Hands shoved into your pockets you are covered as Simon is on jobs, nose tucked against the cold.

It is decided that a new Thai spot would be the answer. Johnny pulls the keys from Kyle’s hand and a kiss.

“I’ll be right there,” he murmured against his cheek before turning and disappearing around a corner.

When he slides into the booth next to you the food is hot and ready on the table.

“Didn’t know what you would like so I got a platter for the table,” Kyle hands you a bundle, a napkin wrapped around a fork, and a spoon.

Conversation flows, Kyle and Johnny are careful to leave space for you to add your thoughts on matters like what they should have for dinner or if they should roast marshmallows in the fire tonight. You pick at your food and watch them watch you. When Johnny and Kyle have eaten their fill and boxed up the remaining food they settle the bill and you follow them into the grocery store next door to the restaurant.

Kyle, ever practical, heads up the pharmacy first. You and Johnny follow.

He tosses a box of condoms to Johnny who catches it with ease, even with his off-hand.

“Do we need any of these?”

This is cause for you to break your silence.

“You won’t need those for me.” You are cut off with a cough, fist to your face.

“These aren’t for you, but why wouldn’t you need them?” Johnny glances over at you, brow cocked.

Your hand has moved, cupping your throat as you cough into your other elbow. A light sweat has started across your face and the coughs are getting harsher. When wheezing starts and your body begins to crunch in on itself Johnny takes off for a different section of the pharmacy.

Hollering at the pharmacist behind the counter he points your direction, “I need an epipen!”

The pharmacist tosses it to him over the counter and low shelves between them as she darts for the door. Johnny doesn’t wait, racing back to you. He couldn’t hear much over the racing of his heart. They hadn’t even had a wife for six hours and she was dying on them!

Kyle has you laid out on the floor as you gasp for air. Sliding in next to you as if he were stealing a base Johnny removes the EpiPen from its travel case, uncaps and presses his thumb down to the top, and slams home the needle into your outer thigh.

He starts counting to thirty, the pharmacist appearing at his side before he reaches ten. By fifteen you are gulping down air as tears steak into your hair.

“There is a clinic two buildings down from here.” She glances over you as she dials something on her phone. Fingers reach for your neck as she takes your pulse.

Kyle gently takes the hand batting at the pharmacist, placing a light kiss on the knuckles. You are sobbing now, heaving breaths and tears streaming down your temples.

“Hi, this is Dr. Kumar, the pharmacist down the street. I have a beta woman incoming with her partners for an allergic reaction. We have administered an EpiPen on site but since I am not an MD I am sending her to you to confirm she is okay.” Dr. Kumar pointed to Kyle with two fingers, then to you, and hooked at thumb toward the front door.

“We gotcha bonnie, we will keep you safe.” He murmured the mindless words of comfort at you, unable to keep from attempting to soothe you as your fear punched into his nose. Interesting, that.

Johnny pulled the pen from your leg, needle already retracted, and passed it off to Dr. Kumar as he helped sit you up. Breaths are coming easier already, your skin is clammy and your eyes wild. You hold onto Johnny’s hand like the last life raft from the Titanic. Kyle shifts his hands under your thighs, standing to the gasps of several old women. Johnny caught sight of them fanning themselves as they pushed through the crowd that had formed.

Dr. Kumar, still on the phone, directed people out of the way with a sharp word and saw them off at the door, face worried. Johnny nodded to her once as he kept pace with Kyle. Thank the gods that John ensured they all stayed in top form.

Your words are getting clearer the closer they get to the clinic.

“Please don’t let them touch me. Don’t leave me alone. Please. Please. Please.”

“We won’t leave you alone,” Kyle shifted one arm to hold you, rubbing your back with the other. “Just need to make sure you’re okay.”

“I am going to call John, can you handle this until I get off the phone?” Johnny winces at the tight grip you have on his hand. “Lass, Kyle will kill anyone who tries to hurt you.”

They pause outside the clinic where Johnny works his fingers free of yours. The look of panic on your face will haunt him until he dies.

Kyle chokes slightly as you clamp down on his neck with your arms. The clinic staff opened the door for him, ushering him straight to the back room. Johnny dials John’s number from memory rather than searching for it. Cars drift past him as he waits He picks up on the third ring.

“How is it going with our new wife, Johnny?” He grunts as if moving something heavy.

“Poorly. We nearly lost her in the pharmacy.”

“Well did you find her?” John huffs, slightly out of breath.

“Na John, she had an allergic reaction to something from lunch. Had to stab her in the leg with an EpiPen. Kyle is in the clinic with her right now.” Johnny crushed a small ball of ice and snow beneath his boot on the sidewalk.

“The fuck happened Johnny?” The sounds from the phone tell him that Simon is now listening too.

“Don’t know John, had lunch at the new Thai restaurant, went to the pharmacy and she started to cough and then couldn’t breathe. Kyle got her to lie down and I got meds from the pharmacist. Kyle is in the clinic with her now. I’ve never seen someone so panicked to go to the doc,” Johnny shoves his other hand in a pocket, focusing on crushing another ball of ice.

“Hold on, I am calling Kate,” John warns. The line goes silent.

Johnny looks into the clinic, seeing nothing beyond the simple decor and the receptionist behind the tall counter.

“Kate, our new wife had an allergic reaction at lunch. Is there anything else she should know about her?” John questions with barely contained rage.

A sigh is the only response at first.

“I don’t know John. I haven’t found all of her records yet.”

“What the fuck do you mean you haven’t found her records yet Kate? Where did you find her?”

“John, all I have on her is from the two weeks before the FBI raided. There is a lot I can’t tell you but what I can say on this unsecured line is you should do some research on arachnids.”

She drops off the line with a click. Scowling at the distance Johnny bites back the urge to start yelling at Kate. More riddles and questions.

“Get her home, Simon and I will clear out the peanuts from the house,” John sighs into his ear.

“Why peanuts? It could have been anything in the meal.” Johnny watches as a group of skiers, colorful as tropical birds, walk across the street on the opposite side.

“Could have been, but a swipe of peanut butter on her hand when she gets back will confirm. It’s a really common allergy and we won’t have time to take her for an allergy test until after Simon’s rut.”

Johnny nods to himself and then verbalizes his agreement before ending the call. The receptionist leads him straight back when he steps through the door.

You sit on the bed, eyes wide and light gone from them, quietly singing Edelweiss. Kyle stands with arms folded and back stiff. His work face is on. Something had happened.

“You are more than you appear, wife,” Johnny took your hand as he settled into a chair conveniently next to the bed. You stay distant until halfway through the drive home.

A/N: I did not mean for it to go this way... I keep fighting with myself to let everyone live to the end of the story....

Broken Masterlist | Masterlist

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kombuuuu · 2 years ago

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Miles 42 headcanons?

no one asked but i’ll deliver !!

Miles!42 x Fem!Reader random headcanons

also a lot of snippets :)

You/Reader: Blue

Miles Morales: Purple

Mama Rio/Rio Morales: Pink

Uncle Aaron/Aaron Morales: Orange

Random/stranger: Black

—

gift giving love language duhhh

Will have you walk with him through malls and whatever you look at for a second too long he buys

You don’t catch on until you’re both eating at a nice restaurant, absentmindedly staring at some plant when a lull in conversation happens.

He purchases the plant.

“Fuck you mean I can’t buy it?”

“Sir, the plants aren’t for sale, this is a dining establishment.”

“Establish the fact I’m gettin’ that plant.”

“Sir—“

50 bucks down and a plant 🆙

He will damn right die if you refuse him. He’ll get all grumpy and pouty when you say he should save for a house, not for you.

convinced you just get shy when bought things (you do).

is even more motivated to buy things

“Miles, baby, you need to save up. Not spend on me!”

“This would look so good on you, Ma.”

“Are you listening??”

“Fuck, and this.”

“Oh my god.”

gets so jealous it’s unbelievable

but only when someone goes too far with you

it’s like 1–100 real quick

he’s not usually the prowling type (ha)

but when someone pushes the line he loses his shit

other than that he’s a supportive bbg all the way

“Wanna go home with me, butterface?”

“Fuck you just say?”

“Nothing homie just get outta here.”

“Say that shit again ‘homie’.”

“Chill the fuck out. Let the lady speak for herself.”

“I’ll fucking speak for my girl all I want, homeboy.”

maybe got a liiiiittle bit of an anger issue

guy went home with a broken nose and a missing tooth

better hope he can afford fill ins

he would never get mad at you though

he gets frustrated you don’t listen sometimes, but it’s never to the point of anger

feel like he has the patience of a fucking SAINT

calm and collected baby u know the deal

“Mami, we gonna have a problem?”

“”

“Didn’t think so.”

a SWEETHEART at times

stand by him being raised right

mama rio taught him to be a romantic

wanted him to take after his dad

so flowers and gifts and chocolates

followed by lovin of any kind

probably a baby for affection but doesn’t show it

so when you get all emotional about being gifted roses for the first time

and hug him and smother him

give him stupid little kisses all over

he’s fainting

poor boy doesn’t know love like u show him

“Baby, are these for me?”

“Yeah, Chiquita. They okay?”

“Wh… They’re perfect.”

“Are you cryin’? I can return ‘em.”

“No! No, no, don’t do that.

I love them, C’mere.”

when you guys get rlly comfortable, like a year and some dating, he ends up getting more chatty

willingly talking w you for hours

feels like you’re the only person he can rlly do that with

rambles so rarely that you kind of just sit in awe when it happens

doesn’t catch himself until he’s trying to name your future kids

“I’ll marry you one day, we’ll have like two, three kids. Get all nice an cozy.

You want a boy or girl? I kinda want both. Definitely not girl first, never having a girl without a brother to protect ‘er.

You’d be such a good Mami.

What’d you wan’ name ‘em? I have a few ideas—“

“..”

“But you could choose the girl cause I don’t know any pretty names. And i’ll choose—“

“..”

“You gon’ let me keep goin?”

“I love your voice.”

“Tranquila, mami.”

Takes you to every family event he ever has

sits you regularly with Rio and Aaron

they insist you call them uncle and ma

you do, obviously

miles doesn’t need to meet your family if you don’t want him to, but if he ever does he’s totally suave with them

like weirdly smooth

able to get on ur carers good side quick

when you meet his extended family they’re just as loving

his whole family is this bright dash of colour

and you fit right the fuck in

“¡Oh, hija estás preciosa!”

“Dice la estrella de la fiesta!”

“You flatter me, Hija.”

“Miles, come get your girl.”

“You look nice too, Uncle Aaron.”

“..Thanks, kid.”

“Hey Mami, havin’ fun?”

“Aight, I’m out.”

when you find out he’s the prowler you’re not really shocked

he’s hella nervous to tell you and kinda puts it off for a while

as long as you’re not in harms way, nothin matters, yeah?

the guilt eats him alive

he’s already lost so much, if he doesn’t do things right with you, then loses you too

he’d probably lose himself

so he tells you

“The Prowler?”

“Yeah.”

“The.. Panther guy I keep seeing on the news-?”

“Mm.”

“Miles are you—

..—Are you killing people?”

“Mami, it’s not like that—“

“oh my god.”

“These men— I kill,”

“Oh my god, oh my god.”

“,They’re bad, you understand.”

“Miles..”

“[Name]. Do you understand?”

“Yeah.. Yeah I understand.”

“You can’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t.”

“…”

“Are you mad.”

“I’m not happy.”

“Okay.”

you’re kind of devastated he’s killing people

but you eventually get it

like it takes a while

say a month or so

but you forgive quick

i mean, who knows what those men are doing, right?

(ur delulu but it’s ok)

he lets you have your space but talking with mama rio when she realises your absence knocks some sense into him

mans is going to GROVEL

he will fucking beg on his damn knees

knocks on your door and is already kneeling

will plead with you to come back to him

like i said a whole ass romantic

you know what’s romantic? a man who can get on his knees

he will suffocate you in gifts and affection

oh you like (insert sanrio esc character) ? look over there at that lifesize plushie woahhhh wonder who that’s forrrrrr

“Hello?”

“Mami, don’t close the door.”

“Miles, go home.”

“And please stop kneeling, the floor is dirty.”

“I’m not leaving ‘til you hear me out.”

looooong sigh

“Okay, fine— whatever, come inside. You have two minutes.”

“God, I missed you. You’re so beautiful Chiquita.”

“Three minutes.”

You talk it out easy, he’s a real smooth talker when he wants to be

“Okay Miles, I’ll see you tomorrow yeah?”

“Yeah, Ma. See you soon.”

“Wh—.. What is that?”

“Ohhh…”

“Why the fuck is it so big?”

“It said “Life Size” on the site? I was thinking like two feet tall.”

“You bought that?”

“Yeah.. I was thinkin’ you wouldn’t let me in. Would have to bribe you.”

“…That’s really cute.”

Annnnnd that’s all i can come up with i’ll probably do more later :P

#miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales #miles x reader #miles morales #earth 42 miles morales x reader #rio morales #uncle aaron #aaron morales #into the spider verse

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cthulhus-curse · 12 days ago

Text

Guiding Light

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 2,128

Warnings: Milf!Stepmom!Wanda, Wanda’s Stepdaughter!Natasha, Neighbor!Reader (called Master), Strap-Ons, Cockwarming, Punishments, Dildos, Praise, Dacryphilia, Degradation, Exhibitionism, D/S Dynamics, Mommy Kink, Infidelity | 18+ Minors DNI

Summary: When Wanda fails to discipline the pet, it’s up to you to show Natasha the importance of good behavior.

“Will you forgive her if she misbehaves?”

You chuckled at the absurdity of the question, shaking your head without daring to say a word as you believed it to be in jest. Upon turning around, realizing her expression was serious with eyes darting out the window, you frowned. “Of course not. She wanted to be mine and if she can’t handle the consequences of her actions, then maybe she doesn’t deserve to be owned.”

Wanda knew it was fair. She had enough training under your hand for years to understand the severity of misbehavior, but as she watched out the kitchen window into the backyard, seeing her stepdaughter getting rather close with one of her friend’s daughters, she couldn’t help but shudder. The punishments that their master gave out weren’t kind. If you were in a good mood then at the very least she’d be given the benefit of being looked at by you, but the pain which you could elicit over Natasha was tedious, one which even Wanda knew firsthand.

“She’s so small,” Wanda commented, shifting to the side as you joined her by the window. As the guests danced and socialized in her backyard, her husband, Natasha’s father, being one of the few who sat back playing cards, the two id you remained inside. She was to finish dishes for the dinner service, a trusty housewife who adored her place, while you were the kind neighbor who didn’t hesitate to offer help. “Basically a puppy, Y/N. It’s her first time doing something like this. I think she’s trying to make you jealous but I…”

“But?” You raised your eyebrows. A hand drifted down Wanda’s back, teasing her skin hidden behind the walk that was her sunflower dress, before landing on the swell of her ass. You cupped one of her cheeks, squeezing tight as her breath hitched. “Use your words, mommy.”

“She doesn’t know any better. Do you have to punish her?” Wanda questioned with pleading eyes that you adored seeing stricken with tears. She allowed you to grope her, to stand from behind while kneading her ass and your free hand forcefully grabbing one of her full breasts that stood perky for you. “Please, master. I promise I’ll teach her. She won’t ever do that again.”

The desperate way in which she desired to protect her stepdaughter made you chuckle. “Yeah? Oh you’re adorable, baby. Look at you trying to keep the puppy from being hurt. You have to remember that she’s a big girl, okay?” Your voice was soft as you blew it by Wanda’s ear, your front brushing against her back. “Someone needs to teach the mutt some manners. Tomorrow we’ll teach her. I know you’ll be my good girl Wanda, you always are. You’ll listen to what master says, right? You’ll help me break the pup?”

Drowning in your presence, hypnotized by the way you assaulted her body, Wanda nodded dumbly. “Yes, master. Anything for you.”

“There’s my good girl, such a pretty mommy for her puppy and master. Now come here,” you pulled her back, making Wanda giggle as she was dragged off. “You know master always wants to reward a well-behaved pet.”

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

After a little over a year of seeing Wanda, you had begun adding her stepdaughter to the mix. It was never planned, but after having caught her multiple times peeking through the door of the bedroom her stepmother and father shared, hand shoved down her messy panties, you were sure to do something about it. She had cutely threatened to tell her dad once as a means to be accepted under your embrace. Although it brought a chill down Wanda’s back, you simply laughed in Natasha’s face — the poor girl that shook her head and pouted before giving in, forcing herself on her knees to receive the same treatment as her stepmom.

Alexei was a beacon of the little community in Westview — a wonderful father, a great husband, and a man who unknowingly lost both his wife and daughter to the next door neighbor who only had to so much as move a finger for the women to drop to their knees.

Always one to keep your promises, you waited until he was out of town the following day. At first it had hurt to see him kiss Wanda goodbye before hugging his daughter and going on his merry way, but as time went on you found yourself amused by it. Many times Wanda came running to you, practically begging you to get his smell off of her, to kiss her until all she could remember was that she was owned by you, her face nuzzled against your chest as she ignored the wedding ring on her hand when you slipped inside her.

Wanda had hastily dragged Natasha out of the house and to yours. You had heard them on the previous night, the older woman anxiously reminding her stepdaughter, who carried feigned confidence, of the rules which she ignored and would receive a punishment for. As much as Wanda tried to warn her, the redhead wouldn’t listen.

“You need to do as master says,” Wanda reminded her stepdaughter, pulling her into your bedroom. She hesitated for a second, eyeing you with desire as you sat back by the edge of the bed, carefully stroking a bulbous blue dildo attached to your hips. It was meant for her, she knew that much – the pride that swelled in her chest knowing she had been good, that master was pleased with her behavior, made the woman shudder with joy. “On your knees, Natalia. Don’t speak unless spoken to and don’t you dare try to fight it, okay? I know you’re a good girl, baby. Show master that.”

“Yes, mommy,” came Natasha’s voice. The tone was shaky, her eyes never meeting your own as she tugged off her clothes, knowing already to settle on the floor hovering over a dildo with a suction cup supporting it in place. It was much bigger than what you previously gave her, but the young college student knew not to question it. “I’ll be good for you, master.” She stared at you intently. “I’m really sorry for misbehaving, but I promise it won’t happen again. ‘M a good puppy.”

“Fucking pathetic,” you shook your head at that. It amazed you to see how easily your two pets sprung into action, pulling off their clothes and throwing them on a pile, Natasha knowing to take her place as a mutt on her knees for you while Wanda stood waiting, beginning to jerk off your lube-coated cock. “You’re nothing but a stupid slut. Do you really think that you can whore yourself out like that? Someone needs to be reminded who she belongs to.”

“But master-”

“Natalia,” Wanda warned, giving her stepdaughter a snide look. “I’m sorry, master. My little one just doesn’t know any better.”

Opting to show mercy was not something you typically did. If anything you were sure to use every ounce of fury you had within you. During the early days of Wanda’s training it would end with her backside entirely sore, her skin carrying nasty bruises that she proudly took as a response for her misbehavior. Although you desperately wished to do the same to Natasha, the redhead’s adorable pleas for forgiveness tugged at your heartstrings.

Taking in Wanda’s body always fueled your pride for her. At times you wondered how her husband dared despise it, how he stared down at rolls across her stomach, stretch marks running down breasts and thighs, and saw disgust. She had told you all about it, how he didn’t dare so much as look at her without grimacing. Such a wondrous pet deserved all the love and affection, which is exactly what you’d forever offer her.

“It’s so big,” Wanda commented as she straddled your hips, your hands guiding her over your cock. There was always uncertainty within her. With slow moments she attempted to catch her breath, to remind herself this is where she belonged. She didn’t see herself with the beauty that resided in your eyes upon gawking at the woman. With her cunt rubbing against the tip of your dick, she licked her lips. “Can I have it, master?”

“Yes, mommy. Anything for my best girl,” you told her. Carefully you carried her heart with a tenderness only shown to those who behaved. Natasha cried out for you, slapping the floor with hands turned to fists as she rubbed herself against the dildo. “And I don’t want to see you move, little whore. You’ll be a good mutt and warm the little toy, alright? Or are you too dumb to understand what I’m saying?”

Natasha shook her head at that. While you took the time to ease into Wanda, your cock bulging against her cunt, your mindless animal bawled her eyes out. Each little tear carried great responsibility – always so much more than what she could carry. Plump lips flushed with embarrassment, a humiliation she held onto against her chest while slowly sinking down over the dildo.

A green eyed monster struck Natasha’s soul. As much as she adored and worshiped the ground her stepmother waltzed through, she held dismay against her. Seeing her being thrusted into by you forced every drop of bile to rise up her throat. She wished to be good, to be treated as though she was a princess only meant to please her master. Her brattiness always dissuaded her. With the push in the right direction perhaps she could someday find herself back in your good graces.

“Look at how pretty she looks,” you pointed out Natasha’s sobs as she sank on the dildo which stuffed her to the brim. She wasn’t allowed to move a muscle, to speak unless previously being given permission. The torturous wave of arousal which overtook her being, her cunt throbbing each second that passed, urged more tears to slap themselves down her face. “Hmm such a pretty puppy when she’s crying for me.”

You took your time exploring Natasha’s weaknesses via the attention you gave her stepmother. The stench of sex piled in the room, your fingers digging into Wanda’s waist as you pumped her pussy full of your cock. She knew how to take it, how to follow your movements as though you were one, how to moan loudly against your ear while begging you to keep going until she was spent – and if you wished to use her after that, she could never fault you for it.

Wanda’s compliance swelled your heart. She gripped your shoulders and nuzzled her face against the crook of your neck – a home of sorts she claimed. “Fuck me harder, please,” she begged. The sounds of her own moans alongside the wet noises her pussy made when harshly fucked fueled your desire to keep going.

Natasha found it impossible to tear her eyes away from Wanda’s cunt, watching in awe while warming the dildo, remaining frozen in place, as you stretched out deliciously velvety walls. For a moment the sight piqued her curiosity. Her mommy must taste delicious, she mused. Perhaps the two of them could practice together as a means to prepare themselves for master behind closed doors.

“You’re such a good girl, Wanda. Always taking master’s cock like a well behaved kitten.” You slapped a hand over her ass, causing the woman to squeal with a mix of surprise and desire. “You’ll always be my pretty kitty. Master’s proudest possession.”

The benefit of release was never given to Natasha no matter how much her insistent groans silently begged for it. You spent countless hours throwing Wanda over the bed with forcefully pried apart legs, taking away every ounce of sanity she had left and making it your own. She kept begging for more, pleas which you gleefully complied with.

By the end of the night the two were spent, Wanda slumped over the bed attempting to thank you for so much as touching her, but her voice only coming as an incoherent mumble. You felt pity for Natasha as she remained kneeling on the floor with a bulge on her stomach. Dragging her onto the bed beside her stepmother was a risky move, although she was sure to profusely apologize even as you drew an orgasm from her dripping pussy with your hand.

“I’ll be good,” she promised with heavy eyelids, juices running down her slick thighs that you slapped. “I want to be your best puppy.”

You hummed at her exhausted enthusiasm, your cock dripping with Wanda’s essence pressed against her lower back. “You better,” came your low whisper against her ear. “Or else I’ll make sure you behave. It won’t be hard to break a stupid whore like you.”

#cthulhus’ fanfics #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff x imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff imagine #wandanat x reader #wandanat smut #wandanat imagine #wandanat x y/n #wandanat x you

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steddieas-shegoes · 6 months ago

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if you look deep enough into steve’s eyes, the colors start to shift from a medium-brown to light, almost golden, like his hair in the summer, like his skin when it’s wet.

eddie finds himself noticing these things more often as the year after vecna passes. on the anniversary of nearly dying, eddie thinks he’s noticed everything about steve.

but then steve shows up at his door after dropping the kids off at their respective homes, a smile on his face, and something mysterious in his eyes. something that distracts eddie from the golden specks the reflect off his porch light. something that only eddie really gets to see.

“wanna take a ride?”

“where you taking me, big boy?”

steve blushes, a soft pink that would be warm to the touch if eddie was brave enough to reach out.

“it’s a surprise.”

eddie trusts steve, so he gets in his car and doesn’t ask anymore questions.

steve talks about something dustin did on the way, complaining with a fondness only steve could have for the kid.

it hits eddie as steve pulls onto a side road.

the field.

the wildflowers bloomed early this year, and eddie had mentioned recently that he would like to make new memories in a place where he was facing death or prison exactly one year ago.

he didn’t think anyone was listening, but apparently steve was.

steve parks the car and eddie doesn’t think he can look at him yet. he thinks he’s gonna cry. he thinks he’s so deeply in love with this man that he may never experience anything like it again.

it’s dark, but the moon is bright. there’s still a light chill in the air, but eddie’s still wearing his leather jacket from hellfire earlier, so he barely feels it.

they walk together through the field, close enough that their hands brush, but still more distance between them than eddie wants. he’s surrounded by beauty: the flowers, the stars, steve.

he stops when steve does.

they both look up at the stars for a few minutes, silent so they can hear the crickets and their own heartbeats.

“a year ago, when i almost lost you, i thought about all the things i didn’t get to do or say or know about you. i was angry for a long time.” steve turns to eddie, giving him a sad smile. “it wasn’t fair that you had to go through all of that and i couldn’t do anything. the doctors weren’t doing enough, and the cops weren’t doing enough, and no one understood how important it was that they fix it.”

eddie’s watching him, baffled. he’s not sure where this is going and he’s worried that his own feelings may be clouding his vision.

“i couldn’t make your pain go away. i couldn’t make it easier. i couldn’t help you walk again or play guitar. i just had to watch.”

eddie feels a tug in his stomach, a pull that leaves him breathless.

“but i watched. and i saw every side of you. and i don’t think i’ll say this right, but i practiced with robin and she thinks i did good.” steve breathes in and turns to face eddie completely. “i learned a side of me that i didn’t know about while i watched you. i learned that love looks different than what i always thought. and i learned that because of you.”

“because of…me?” eddie’s trying not to get his hopes up, but he’s pretty sure they’re higher than ever.

“because you love so loudly. everyone you love knows it and you aren’t scared that they’ll run away. it’s probably because it’s impossible not to love you.”

eddie thinks he actually is experiencing some kind of post-death dream. maybe he got too high in his room and steve never even showed up at his door.

“eddie? did you hear me?”

eddie focuses on steve’s look of concern, on the golden specks in his eyes that the moonlight makes shimmer.

“i don’t know?”

“i said i love you.”

“oh. then, no, i didn’t.”

steve’s face falls and eddie realizes a second too late that his response to steve saying he loves him wasn’t the exact thing he’d been holding back for at least six months now.

“i just thought you should know. um. so i guess i can wait in the car if you wanna stay a bit longer-“

eddie is only staying in this field if steve is with him, so he wraps his arms around steve’s shoulders and hugs him harder than is probably safe.

“i love you. sorry i’m a dumbass and didn’t say it the second you did. i was trying to convince myself this was real life.”

steve laughs against his ear and eddie’s pretty sure they belong like this.

“why now?” eddie asks as he pulls away.

“because i told myself if you didn’t do it by today, i would.”

“how long have you been waiting on me?”

steve lets out a breath. “eight months give or take.”

“that is…much longer than i would’ve expected.”

“yeah, well, imagine being the one waiting.”

eddie smiles at steve, and steve smiles back, and eddie notices a new thing.

steve harrington’s got a crooked tooth. an imperfection to some, a sign of being human to eddie.

“what’s that face for?” steve asks.

“you’re perfect, stevie.”

they kiss in the field where eddie was saying goodbyes a year ago. they look at stars in a clear sky while holding hands and talking about what their future might look like. steve’s head rests in eddie’s lap while eddie traces steve’s lips with his finger, memorizing the curl of his lips when he smiles and the feel of the vibrations when he hums a song eddie doesn’t recognize.

steve picks flowers, and eddie makes a crown, and they both say i love you in a million ways.

they walk along the edges of the field, where the rv was parked while they prepared for the worst. eddie shivers at the memories, but steve kisses his shoulder and the back of his hand and he shivers at that instead.

they ride back, and eddie sings along to whatever songs play on the radio, even if he messes up the words. steve laughs and it’s better than any music they could listen to.

they kiss on eddie’s porch, surrounded by darkness because no one turned on the outside light. it’s so late, no one would see them anyway.

steve stays at eddie’s, but wayne’s home, so they’re quiet and keep their hands above the waist even though they so desperately want to touch, and kiss, and bite every inch of each other.

they still get carried away, which doesn’t surprise eddie at all. what does surprise eddie is how quickly steve sits in his lap, rutting against his stomach and biting back moans and whimpers and eddie laces their fingers together and squeezes, meeting each thrust with his own. neither of them last long, coming in their pants like virgins. they laugh, but they kiss through it, teeth clacking as they gasp for breath.

they take turns in the bathroom in case wayne wakes up. steve comes back into eddie’s room without a shirt and hair slightly damp. eddie feels his heartbeat quicken as steve hops into bed next to him.

they sleep with steve curled against eddie’s chest, eddie’s arms around his back, sweaty but content.

content and happy.

and when the sun rises the next morning, eddie wakes first and notices another new thing about steve: he drools in his sleep.

#so this was supposed to be my pop up drabble next month #but then i got carried away #and it’s no one’s fault but my own #so now it just exists and i’ll have to write something else #oh darn #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #drabble #getting together #love confessions

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musaslullaby · 6 months ago

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I would marry you

Charles Leclerc x reader x Arthur Leclerc (platonic)

Summary: Yn helps Arthur cook for a dinner with an unexpected guest.

Warning: Just fluff.

Masterlist

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I parked my car in Arthur's driveway, my childhood friend, with a smile on my face. It had almost become a routine for us to spend time together, especially when it involved cooking. Arthur, despite being a disaster in the kitchen, wanted to prove to his friends that he could cook something without burning it all, and I could never say no when he asked for my help.

"Arthur, it’s me!" I called out loudly as I rang the doorbell. I heard his footsteps approaching, and a moment later, the door opened, revealing his smiling face.

"Hey, star!" he greeted me affectionately, wrapping me in a warm hug. I felt the heat of his arms around me as I blushed slightly from embarrassment.

"Please, stop with that nickname," I replied, trying to maintain a firm tone, though I knew the blush on my cheeks gave away my discomfort. He’d been calling me that since I was six years old, a nickname I hated, but despite my protests, Arthur continued to use it.

He burst out laughing, his laughter infectious. "Come on, I know you still have that blue dress with the stars!" he joked, referring to that silly princess dress my dad got me for Christmas. I gave him a playful slap on the chest, trying to pout, but he just smiled at me, and the warmth of his affection reflected in his eyes.

Once inside, we headed straight to the kitchen. Arthur followed me like a puppy, eager to know what we were going to cook. "How about lasagna?" I suggested, starting to lay out the ingredients on the counter.

Arthur’s face lit up. "Can I help? I feel guilty letting you do all the work," he said, using those sweet eyes that I knew he reserved only to convince me. He put on an apron with a panda face drawn on it, and the sight made me burst out in loud laughter.

"Oh my God, where did that come from?" I asked, still laughing as I tried to catch my breath, clutching my stomach that was starting to hurt.

"A relic from my mom," he replied, pretending to pout. "Now stop laughing, seriously, it's not funny," he added, turning around with a mock-offended look. With a smile, without thinking twice, I hugged him from behind.

"Don't be like that," I whispered, trying to hold back tears from laughing. I felt his arms gently tighten around me.

"I’ll forgive you just this once," he said, his tone now lighter and sweeter.

Cooking with Arthur was always a mystical experience, a blend of chaos and affection. Even though he was clumsy, his presence made everything more fun. As we prepared the lasagna, every layer of pasta, sauce, and mozzarella was an opportunity for jokes and laughter. But his clumsiness led him to play a silly prank: he threw a bit of sauce on my nose.

I looked at him in disbelief, my eyes wide open, while he whistled, feigning innocence. "I hate you," I said, rolling my eyes, but the truth was that at that moment, I wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else. I wiped my nose on his apron, provoking a disgusted cry from him.

Our bond was so special, full of little complicities and jokes, an affection that went beyond mere friendship. There was an intimacy between us that few could understand, and it was something I cherished dearly in my heart.

Just as we finished preparing the lasagna, someone knocked on the door. Arthur offered to go open it, leaving me alone in the kitchen with the smell of freshly baked food. When he returned, his face was serene, as if nothing had happened.

"So? Who was it?" I asked, curious. But Arthur, with his usual nonchalance, only replied, "Charles."

That name sent a chill down my spine. A rush of adrenaline surged through my body, and my heart began to race. "Why the hell didn’t you tell me he was coming too?" I blurted out, maybe a bit too loudly. Arthur ran a hand through his hair, clearly embarrassed.

"Look, I forgot, okay?" he muttered, his tone guilty, but I didn’t have time to respond because just then the door to the house opened with a loud click.

"We’ll deal with this later," I hissed, giving him a look that left no doubt about my displeasure. I saw Arthur’s face pale slightly.

"Hey, guys," Charles greeted, walking in with the usual confidence that characterized him. He hugged Arthur with a smile, then turned to me, and for a moment, time seemed to stop. He approached and hugged me, and my heart skipped a beat. That contact, so simple and innocent, ignited a fire of emotions within me that I desperately tried to control.

By now it was known to everyone, even the walls of that house, that I had a massive crush on Charles, my best friend's brother. But he had always been out of my reach, dating girls who seemed to shine much brighter than me.

We sat down at the table, and Arthur brought out the lasagna. The dish was perfect, golden and crispy on the surface, with a soft, gooey inside. The smell filled the room, creating a warm and cozy atmosphere.

Charles took a bite and smiled. "Okay, I bet Yn made this," he said, looking at me with approval.

Arthur pulled me closer with a knowing look. "Yeah, you know she’s amazing with Italian dishes."

"How are you, Charles?" I asked, trying to keep my voice calm as I cut a piece of lasagna, avoiding looking into his eyes for too long.

"The races are going as they go," Charles began, choosing his words carefully, "but I have to admit, ever since I broke up, I’ve been feeling a lot better."

Those words took me completely by surprise. "You broke up?" I asked, staring at him in disbelief, my fork stopping halfway.

"Oh, yeah, and for a while now. I thought they had told you," Charles replied, throwing an accusatory glance at Arthur, who nervously scratched the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed.

"Why did you break up? You two seemed… madly in love," I asked, trying to shift the focus away from Arthur and his awkwardness.

"Well, you know, she was a bitch who only cared about money and fame," Charles explained with a bluntness that surprised me. "And then… I realized I want a lighter, more playful relationship. With her, everything was too heavy." He paused and added, "She would never have cooked for us. You know, I’d marry you just for that."

In that moment, my world stopped. His words seemed to echo in my head, as his eyes stayed fixed on mine, filled with an intensity I had never noticed

before. My heart was racing, and my breath suddenly became short. I tried to figure out if he was joking or if there was something deeper in those words, but his serious and slightly embarrassed look confused me.

"You’re joking, right?" Arthur intervened, trying to lighten the mood with a nervous smile.

"Of course," Charles replied, but there was a hesitation in his voice that didn’t go unnoticed. He kept looking at me, and even though he tried to keep the tone light, his cheeks turned a faint pink, as if he were torn between saying something important and wanting to keep our relationship as it was.

The silence that followed was dense with unspoken emotions. Arthur, perhaps realizing the tension, stood up abruptly, breaking the spell. "So, who wants some wine?" he asked, heading to the kitchen with a haste that betrayed his desire to divert attention from the conversation that had just taken place.

I remained still for a moment, trying to gather my thoughts. The idea that Charles could even vaguely consider the idea of being with me filled me with a pure and innocent hope. But at the same time, I knew how complicated the situation was. He was my best friend’s brother, and our bond, as deep and sincere as it was, had never crossed that fine line that separated brotherly affection from something more.

As Arthur returned with a bottle of wine and three glasses, Charles and I exchanged one last look. He smiled at me, a small smile that seemed to say many things. And for a moment, I let that smile warm my heart, forgetting all the complications for an instant.

Arthur poured the wine, and we sat down again, trying to steer the conversation back to lighter tones. But the atmosphere had changed.

As we sipped the wine and enjoyed the last slice of lasagna, I couldn’t help but think about how strange fate was. Sometimes, it makes us go in circles, it makes us take winding paths, only to bring us back exactly where we were meant to be from the beginning. Maybe that lunch, with its simplicity and surprises, was one of those moments that mark a turning point, a new chapter that opens, even if we didn’t yet know where it would lead us.

And as the evening went on, and the laughter and jokes filled the room, I couldn’t help but glance at Charles from time to time, wondering if he felt that change too, if he was thinking about what could happen between us if only we had the courage to explore that possibility.

Maybe, I thought, while smiling at Arthur’s jokes, that some things just need a little more time to mature. And maybe, in the end, fate would find a way to connect those dots that seemed to have been left hanging for so long.

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula 1 #fanfiiction #f1 x reader #formula one #formula one imagine #charles x you #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x reader #cl16 #cl16 x reader #arthur leclerc

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mermaidgirl30 · 1 year ago

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✨Daddy’s Best Friend, Mr. Miller Masterlist✨

dbf! Joel Miller x fem! reader

A/N: Hey, guys! Super excited to kick off my first dbf! Joel series. It was originally going to be a one shot, but after some thought I wanted to write more. As always, comments and reblogs are appreciated. Always like to hear your thoughts ☺️ Joel is a menace in this one! Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

Summary: After going out with your classmate from graduate school, Mr. Miller doesn’t take so kindly to your date when he sees you out and about with the college jock. Will the older, attractive man you’ve been pining after for years finally give you what you’ve been wanting for so long?

Pairing: dbf! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Rating: Explicit 18+ Only MDNI

Tags: Porn with Plot, dbf! Joel, fingering, oral, unprotected p in v, dirty talk, dom! Joel, (reader is 25, Joel is mid 40’s)

Part 1: Blurring the Lines

Part 2: Secret Glances and Wandering Hands

Part 3: October Surprises and Secrets Slurred

Part 4: Birthday Candles and Rock Concerts

Part 5: Let Me Take You There

Part 6: Hot Tubs and Calloused Fingers

Part 7: Can I Keep You?

On My Knees for You - Halloween one-shot that takes place after part 7

Recommended songs for series “Scary Love” and “Daddy Issues” and “A Little Death” by The Neighbourhood

Part 1 Word Count: 13.6k

The warm August air blows your long hair gently as you sit outside Moonlight Bar, letting the Austin city lights shine in the distance. The lighting is low as the dark blue luminescence of the bar surrounds the alcohol on the back shelf and various plants hang above the edges of the bar. The Goo Goo Dolls play softly across the outside speakers as people mingle together at various white wooden tables strewn across the manicured green lawn. It’s a busy night, one of the more popular bars in the area.

You’re sitting with William. One of the boys that’s in one of your law classes at the University of Texas. He wouldn’t leave you alone at school, so you figured you’d appease him and let him take you out on a date.

He isn’t bad looking. He has shaggy blonde hair and bright green eyes. He’s built like a body builder and has a jawline so sharp that it could cut someone. He’s nice and all, but he won’t stop talking about fucking football. You hate football, but you just smile and nod along to what he says. Occasionally rolling your eyes when he isn’t looking at you.

“Did you see the quarterback get slammed at the game last Saturday? Tim took him out hard! I thought he’d never get up!” he says starstruck as he shows you a picture from the game on his phone, slamming back another drink of vodka as he lowers it to the table.

“I already told you I didn’t watch the game,” you say, trying not to sound obnoxious.

“Oh, right. Well, you missed out. It was awesome!” he shouts as the group of people next to you look at William. You internally groan at the embarrassment that’s caked on your face. You need to get up for a few minutes. You’re bored and want to cut the talk on sports.

“I’ll be right back,” you utter as you get up from the barstool.

“Where are you going?” he asks with a hurt expression on his face.

“To the bathroom. I’ll be back in a few minutes, chill,” you say as you put a hand on his shoulder encouragingly and walk away. You roll your eyes at the action and start walking towards the back where the bathrooms are.

William really is a nice guy, he just isn’t the guy for you. You don’t have that much in common, and he’s way too into football. Granted, he did play as an undergrad, but you don’t really care. You want to talk about subjects other than sports, like maybe something you care about. He never makes an effort to ask you about yourself though. He just wants to talk about sports and his gym routine.

What a bore.

He’s a few years older than you. He’s twenty-eight, and you’re twenty-five. Soon to be twenty-six in a couple of months. You always had a thing for older guys. But lately you had your eyes set on someone else. Someone off limits to you which made you want him even more. But it would never happen. You needed to quit telling yourself it would. He’s too old for you, in his mid forties. Which only makes you that much more curious.

You aren’t watching where you’re going as you round the corner of a small crowd and run straight into someone who feels like a thick brick wall.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going and…” You stop mid sentence as you see just who stands in front of you.

Joel Miller. Your dad’s hot best friend, the older man you can’t get out of your head.

“S’alright, sweetheart. Didn’t think I’d run into you here,” he says as he laughs, his smile making his honey brown eyes crinkle up at the corners, making you swoon and melt under his gaze.

God, he’s pretty.

“What are you doing here?” you ask with surprise in your voice.

“Havin’ a drink? It’s the weekend. Gotta relax somehow,” he says with another small smile as his Texas accent comes out thick and low. That melodic southern accent that could put you at ease on any given day.

“Oh, right.” You move a lock of hair behind your ear nervously and you swear he watches you a little too closely as his eyes trail to your neck, keeping his gaze there a little too long.

“You come with anyone tonight?” he asks as he looks around the crowded bar, bringing his focus back to you.

“Yeah. Came with a date tonight. Someone from one of my classes,” you say carefully.

His bottom lip twinges and his jaw clenches just enough for you to notice. His bicep flexes around his forest green plaid shirt as it’s rolled up to his elbows, exposing thick veins that spider all the way down his lower arms as they end in his massive hands. You gulp at the sight of him, of how seriously hot he is.

Was he jealous of William? Surely not…right?

“You be careful tonight. Don’t let him do anything you don’t want to,” he warns with a deep gruff in his voice, staring at you with serious, dark eyes.

“He’s not going to do anything. He’s nice. He’s-”

He cuts you off before you can finish. “Doesn’t matter if he’s nice. He’s a guy. He can change up on you like that.” He snaps his fingers, looking at you intently. “Jus’ be careful, okay?”

Why was he being like this? Protective. He wasn’t your dad. He didn’t need to keep an eye on you. You had it under control.

“I’ll be careful, but you really don’t have to tell me that. You sound just like my dad,” you say as you roll your eyes, annoyed.

“I ain’t your dad, sweetheart. Jus’ tryin’ to look after ya is all. Don’t want ya gettin’ hurt.”

Oh.

“Right. Okay…” you say quietly.

Joel skates his eyes down your body as he takes in the tight black tank top as your cleavage spills out a little too much, going over your short, light blue jean shorts as they barely graze your tan thighs, dragging his eyes down your long legs and ending at your clean, white Converse shoes as he slowly looks back up into your eyes.

You suddenly feel self conscious, like you need to cover up a little more. Not like he hasn’t seen you in short shorts and a tank top before. Hell, he saw you in a slinky bikini last summer at a pool party and the man couldn’t keep his eyes off you.

You wouldn’t lie though, you love when he notices you. When he flicks his eyes over you and lingers just a little too long, making you burn with heat from his intense stare. He’s the one you have wet dreams about, the older man you can’t quite shake from your fantasies. But he’s off limits. Because he’s your father’s best friend. And he would never dare touch his best friend’s daughter…right?

“Well, I’ll let ya get back to it. Don’t wanna keep ya from your date. I’ll be around here if ya need me. Just shoot me a text.”

You nod in reply and make your way over to the bathroom, turning to watch Joel disappear into the crowd somewhere. A sea of green getting lost in the abyss. You sigh and walk into the bathroom, trying to get a hold of yourself.

You had met Joel when you were just eighteen years old. He had just moved into the neighborhood, and your dad made quick friends with him. Pretty soon they were best friends. He was always coming to the house to hang out with your dad, always coming to pool parties or cookouts. He even taught you how to play guitar when you asked. And he was a good teacher, the way his hands slid across yours. Those rough, calloused fingers. You’d do anything to be able to feel those again on your skin.

You wondered how they’d feel on your thighs or even someplace else. Someplace sensitive…

You finish up in the bathroom and make your way back to William. Back to where you belong tonight. You need to stop thinking about Joel. He wasn't the one that was taking you out and never would be. Even if that’s something you want, so badly.

“Oh, you’re back. You missed this great conversation me and this guy had about Jake’s pass last week with the football. It was killer!” he shouts as you settle back into your barstool and get situated.

You roll your eyes and give him a polite smile. You’re so over the football talk. Couldn’t he give it a rest? You take a large drink from your red bull vodka and place it back on the bar top as you chase it down, letting it leave a slight burn in your throat.

When you look back up and turn your head slightly to the left, you almost fall off the barstool as you see Joel sitting across the bar, just on the opposite side. He’s drinking what looks to be a cold glass of whiskey on the rocks as the amber color swirls in the cup.

He takes another sip as he keeps his eyes fixed on you intently, letting his eyes roam up and down your body as a faint snarl edges the side of his mouth as he looks over at William.

Holy shit. He is jealous. You can see it in those dark brown eyes as they slightly narrow at the loud mouthed man that sits next to you as he rambles on about football.

He swirls the short straw around his drink as he eyes you again, this time his gaze relaxing into warmth as a gentle smile plays on his lips. You blush at the brooding man and bite your lip as you look down, unable to keep your focus on the intense dark eyes that are staring at you.

What’s his deal? He never dared tried to flirt with you before. Not like this. At least not around your dad. You always felt that invisible line get drawn at times though. Like last summer when you were in a tight, short dress, about to go out with some friends for the night. You felt his eyes burn through you as he stared at your thighs as he glazed over your toned, tanned body. You could feel it in the room how thick the tension was. But he didn’t dare cross that line. Not while he was in the presence of your father.

Joel’s a good guy. He’d never do anything to disrespect or hurt you. He’s kind and caring, always willing to help you out when you need it. Like with your projects or guitar. Or that time when he picked you up when your car got stuck in the snow and drove you all the way back home in the middle of an ice storm.

He’s special. One of a kind. You just don’t understand why he’s still single when he’s drop dead gorgeous. And his curls.

God, his curls. The way his thick, tousled hair curls at the edges as grey streaks line his dark hair. And his beard. That thick, scruffy salt and pepper beard that you want to graze your fingers across in a flirtatious manner. Thinking of how good his lips might feel on yours. How soft and velvety they must be…

You snap out of it as William tries talking to you again. You avert your eyes from Joel and put your attention on the guy that sits next to you.

“Did you finish the paper yet from Mr. Lawrence’s class yet?” he asks as he takes a sip of his vodka drink.

“Oh, yeah. I’ve been done for a few days now. Wanted to knock it out before more work got piled on,” you reply nonchalantly.

“Cool. I still got a ways to go. But anyways, you wanna go to the football game next weekend? Our team’s playing here. Thought you’d want to maybe go with me?” he asks with raised eyebrows and green eyes that search yours, hoping for a yes to come from your lips.

That was a hard pass. “Sorry, I already have plans that day,” you lie, trying to sound apologetic to soothe his hopefulness.

“That’s fine. There will be other games.”

You roll your eyes as you internally groan. You’re bored and you don’t want to be sitting here with him anymore. You need someone that isn’t boring. Someone that’s older, much older. Someone with pretty brown eyes and thick arms covered in plaid…

You look up from your long, thick lashes and meet Joel’s stare again as it sears through your skull. His gaze is so intense that it stirs something low in your stomach that feels a lot like heat.

This was bad. Really bad.

You squeeze your legs shut and put out the growing fire, dropping your gaze again so you won’t be tempted to be pulled back into the flames.

William puts a hand on your thigh and leans into you as you catch a whiff of his strong vodka drink on his breath. Joel looks like he could break the glass right under his fingertips the way he’s holding the cup.

Oh, he’s mad. But why? It’s not like he was supposed to take you out. He’s your fucking father’s best friend for God’s sake. You need to get out of the sick delusion that Joel actually likes you more than his best friend’s daughter. He’s only trying to be nice, protective. He’s only looking out for you because that’s what he should be doing, for your dad.

But then why is he looking at you like that? Like he wants to eat you alive and wants to snap the neck of your god awful date.

“You okay if I do this?” William asks as he rakes his teeth over your neck roughly. Nothing is sexy about it. It hurts and his teeth are sharp, and his breath smells horrible. He puts his hand back on your thigh and squeezes as his nails dig into your skin in an extremely uncomfortable way. You wince at his actions.

“William, no. We’re in public. I don’t think-”

Before you can finish your sentence, Joel’s on him in a second, pulling him away from your body as he yanks him out of his seat. Your breath catches at the way Joel is seething and breathing hard as he glares at William with daggers in his dark eyes.

“Don’t think she wants ya doin’ that,” he snarls as venom shoots from his tongue.

“Who the fuck are you to touch me and pull me from my woman?” he yells at Joel as his nostrils flare and his green eyes turn to tiny slits.

“She ain’t your woman,” Joel scoffs, clearly annoyed at the younger, less mature male.

“Oh, and who are you? You her keeper or something?” he asks angrily.

“Somethin’ like that,” he replies, his voice clipped.

Your eyes widen at the statement. Was he marking his territory? He had to be. Or maybe he was just being protective, helping out his best friend to keep his daughter safe. Maybe it didn’t mean anything.

Or maybe it did. You can’t tell one way or the other. Your mind’s a blur.

William rolls his eyes and looks over at you. “You want to get out of here? Come on, I’ll-”

You stop him before he can finish that sentence. “No.”

He goes livid as his green eyes turn to murky swamp water. “No? Are you fucking serious?” he asks with shocked words.

“The lady said no,” Joel states firmly as he steps in front of you, blocking William’s view.

“Baby, come on. Let’s go,” William demands, holding out his hand for you to take.

“I’m not yours…” you reply quietly.

“Fine! You can walk home then, bitch,” he says with clenched teeth and a hard line across his forehead.

“Watch how you fuckin’ talk to her,” Joel growls as he pushes William up against the bar table, making the rest of his vodka spill as it lands in a heap on the floor along with the mixed in broken glass.

“You really want to go there? Because I’ll tear you apart,” William yells.

“Go on then. Try.” Joel bares his teeth and flexes his hand into a tight fist.

You can’t let them fight. You won’t let Joel get hurt, even if he can take on William. What would your dad say?

You quickly intercept and step in between them. You put your hands on Joel’s broad chest and try to push him back. “Joel, stop. He’s not worth it.”

Joel clenches his jaw and stares hard at William, about to put a fist in his face. You put your hand over his tight fist and beg him to stop. “Please.”

Joel’s fist relaxes as he looks down at you, his brown eyes softening just the slightest as he focuses on you. Butterflies were swimming through your stomach at the heat that was between the two of you. You had never been this close to Joel. You were only inches from his mouth, so close that you could reach out and brush your lips over his. So very close…

William rips you away from your thoughts as you hear him grab his keys and turn sharply your way. “Have it your way. Enjoy the old man’s company. I’m out of here.” He storms away from the bar in a hurry, leaving you and Joel alone. Together.

You suddenly realize you’re still leaning against his chest, your hand still planted firmly on his. You drop your hand and back away from his space as you rake a hand through your soft curls.

“Thanks for that. You didn’t have to,” you say nervously, your voice cracking at the thank you.

“Save it, darlin’. I could already tell you weren’t havin’ a good time, and then he put his hands all over you. Greedy bastard.” He bares his teeth as he clenches his jaw.

Greedy bastard? Well, goddamn. He does like you. He had to. Otherwise he wouldn’t be talking to you like this. Right?

“Oh uhh, yeah…” You don’t really know what to say to that. And the way he’s flaring his nostrils is making you have heart palpitations. He had never looked that mad before. At least not over you.

“You want a drink? It’s on me,” he says as he tilts his head toward the bar.

“Yeah, sure,” you reply, trying not to act like you’re flipping circles inside.

“C’mon then.” He walks you to the bar and pulls out a barstool for you as you sit down. He takes a seat next to you, gently brushing his thigh against yours as he gets into place. You can’t help but gasp a little at the touch. It feels electric.

The young, red head bartender comes over and asks for your drink orders. “Hi, guys. What’ll it be tonight?”

Joel looks over at you and raises an eyebrow, looking you over slowly as if he’s trying to figure it out. It makes chills run down your spine. “Let me guess. Malibu sunset?”

He never gets it wrong. He knows your drink of choice like the back of his own hand. It was that slight attention he always gave you that did it for you. He was always listening, always so attentive when you spoke. He knew you so well it was almost scary. No other man had paid that much attention to you, nonetheless listened to you ramble about your likes and dislikes. But Joel always did.

“You remembered?” you ask with a faint smile.

“‘Course, darlin’. How could I forget?”

You slightly blush and place your arms on the bar top as you lean on it, trying to calm yourself down. He orders his usual whiskey on the rocks, his drink of choice. A scent that you can sometimes smell on his breath when he’s sitting close to you like now. Something you want to taste on his tongue. But that’s only a daydream. That would never happen. Right?

“So, how’s school going this semester?” he asks as he turns towards you, placing one of his arms on the bar top as his plaid shirt squeezes around his flexed bicep, making you uncomfortably hot just looking at his massive arms.

“It’s going well. I mean, it’s hard. Really hard, but I’m managing. I can’t tell you how many papers I’ve had to write already, but I seem to be doing something right because I have straight A’s,” you beam.

“Straight A’s huh? You always were a sharp thing.” He’s looking at you with those deep honey eyes, gently smiling as he admires you. A sight that makes you weak at the knees as you stare at his perfect dimples.

And those eyes. God, those pretty brown eyes. You want to drown in them. Let them grab hold of you as they drag you deeper and deeper until you suffocate under the weight of them.

“Actually, I’m at the top of my class,” you brag, nonchalantly.

Joel lets out a low whistle as he leans back in awe, giving you a once over. “‘Course you are, darlin’. Such a smart girl…” he whispers low and deep, making you bite your lower lip slowly.

There it was. That tension in the air. The way he’s looking at you makes you feel like you’re the only girl in the room. That deep smolder that puts dangerous daydreams in your mind. Hot, sticky daydreams…

The bartender breaks the tension as he sets the drinks down in front of you and walks back off without so much as a “let me know if you need anything else” line. He just walks away and helps some loud couple on the other side of the bar.

You swirl the straw around your yellow, pineapple drink and take a sip, letting the tropical taste run down your throat. It’s sweet and delicious, just how you like it.

Joel picks up his whiskey glass and takes a generous gulp. You watch as the rim of the glass kisses his lips, how he takes his tongue and runs it over the bottom of his lips, how he holds the glass tightly as the amber liquid clinks against the ice. You never wanted to be a glass as bad as you did now.

You bite your lip slowly as he puts the glass down and wipes his bottom lip with his thumb as he slowly grazes it over his lip. It’s slow, seductive, the hottest thing you had ever seen. You want to know just how soft those lips are, how good he tastes, how his calloused fingers would feel on your skin…

You shake your head and free the dirty thoughts from your mind. He’s your father’s best friend! This couldn’t happen. Ever. But fuck did you want it to. You never wanted anything as bad as this in your whole entire life. He was just so…perfect.

Last summer when your family had a party at the lake house, your friends all whispered how hot Joel was in his tight grey t-shirt and swim trunks. They’d say how built he was, how he must be great in bed, and they had called him the hottest dilf they’d ever seen. Of course they were right, but you were jealous of them. Because you wanted to be the only one that had eyes for him. You wanted him. Period. Even if he was strictly off limits.

He sits the glass down on the smooth bar top and turns back around, putting his full attention on you. “You uhhh, been seein’ anyone besides that handsy asshole lately?” he asks with darker eyes, a hint of anger on the tip of his tongue as his eyebrows furrow together.

There it was. That jealousy swirling off his tongue. Or overprotectiveness. Or possibly both. You couldn’t tell which it was.

“No, not really. Haven’t been dating much lately,” you say quietly.

“How come?” He’s curious. His eyebrows raise and he focuses intently on you, leaning in just a tad bit closer so he can hear you over the noisy crowd.

“Guess I just haven’t been interested in anyone,” you shrug, blowing it off like it isn’t a big deal, but apparently it is to him.

“Oh, but I’m sure guys are always askin’ ya out. A pretty thing like you, surely. Bet all their eyes are on ya.”

A pretty thing like you? The man just called you pretty. You swear you see stars in your eyes. The room feels dizzy as you take another drink, trying to calm your racing thoughts.

“I mean, not really,” you shake your head disagreeing.

“I don’t really believe that, you’re gorgeous. They’re missin’ out on a great girl. Just give it time. You’ll find someone worth your while.” He takes another sip of whiskey and looks at you from the corner of his eye, keeping those brown eyes only on you.

A great girl? Gorgeous?! You can’t help but feel a little disappointed when he says that you’ll find someone worth your while. You don’t want to find just someone, you want him and only him. That’s what you really want. But you need to stop mixing reality with fantasy. Joel would never let that happen. He wouldn’t disrespect your father like that or would he? You hoped he would.

“Have you finished my guitar yet?” you ask all of a sudden excited to see it. Joel was customizing your acoustic guitar and carving sunflowers into the wood. You’d asked him if he could do it because his woodwork was exceptional and you only wanted your guitar in the best hands. He said yes automatically, giving it no thought.

“I am. Just want to polish it up and then she’s all yours,” he says proudly, his smile crinkling up the edges of his mouth, exposing his adorable dimples that you love.

“Can I come see it?” you ask, almost begging with your eyes.

“Tonight?” he asks, hesitating just a bit with his voice.

“I mean, unless you have other plans,” you say, shrugging your shoulders slightly. He looks at you with a serious gaze in his eyes, and you notice his hand on his thigh slowly flex like he’s in deep thought.

Why was he hesitating? He had never hesitated around you before. But also, you’d never really been alone with him before. He’d occasionally picked you up a couple times or you’d be alone with him in the room for a few minutes at your house while your dad was grabbing something, but not in his house. Not alone, just the two of you.

He finally speaks as he runs a hand through his tousled curls, watching as they fall back into place perfectly. “No, don’t have any other plans. So, yeah. You’re welcome to come see it. I’ll have you try it out, see how you like it.”

“Maybe you can give me another lesson? It’s been awhile. You’re a great guitar teacher, best I ever had,” you smile at him, just on the edge of being flirtatious and drawing that thin line that you were about to cross.

“That so, darlin’?” he smirks, giving you butterflies in the pit of your stomach.

“Mhm,” you hum, taking another sip of your fruity drink.

“Well, glad to hear it. And we’ll see,” he says in a low voice.

He finishes up his whiskey and waits patiently for you to finish off your drink. As soon as you’re done, he pays for the drinks as the bartender takes up the tab.

“You ready to get out of here?” he asks as he stands up, pulling out his barstool.

“More than ready,” you respond as you get up and pull your denim shorts down. Joel’s eyes wander down to your tan thighs, and you swear you see that smoldering stare burning in his eyes return as he takes in the sight of your long legs. His gaze stays a few seconds too long as he quickly looks back up into your eyes, trying to play it off as he runs a hand through his thick curls slowly.

A low heat starts in your core, and you have to squeeze your legs together to ease the tension that was there. You’re already wet from seeing how your long legs affected him.

Fuck. You wanted him. Bad.

“Alright, c’mon then. Truck’s this way.” He leads you out of the busy bar as you wind your way through the crowd of people. He puts his hand on the small of your back, and you almost jolt at the action. He’d never done that before. But it feels…good. And you want his hand to continue to stay there, burning all the way down to your skin.

When you get out to the white Chevy, he unlocks the doors and then you climb into the front passenger seat. It’s nice and clean in here and smells like him. That woodsy pine smell that you love just lingering in the air. It makes you a little dizzy.

After he buckles his seatbelt, he puts the key in the ignition and then the truck rumbles lightly, the engine roaring to life. Ghost plays softly on the radio as the volume is turned low. You played Joel one of their songs a while ago and then he got hooked on them. You had to applaud yourself for getting him into your taste of music. Maybe one of these days he’d take you to their concert.

“I see you’re still listening to Ghost?” you ask with raised brows as you look over at him, laughing. He’s holding the steering wheel tight as he drives down the busy city streets, paying close attention to where he’s going.

“‘Course. Can’t believe you got me into them,” he says as he shakes his head, a gentle smile lifting the corners of his mouth.

“Well, you can’t deny they’re good. I mean, come on. Tobias is a musical genius,” you go on, getting lost in the song that’s playing on the speakers.

“No, you’re right. He’s good. Wouldn’t mind seein’ them if they ever decided to come to Austin,” he replies as he turns a corner, rotating the steering wheel sharp as his large hands grip around the leather. You watch the way his knuckles grasp the steering wheel strongly, wishing you could feel those hands on your body instead.

“Would you take me?” you ask quietly, blurring the lines of a boundary you shouldn’t cross.

His jaw slightly flexes as he flicks his eyes over to you. “If you’d wanna go, I’d take ya.” He looks back at the road before you respond.

“Really?” you ask shocked, not expecting that answer.

“Mhm. Might be fun,” he hums.

You sit back in your seat and smile out your passenger side window triumphantly as you watch the glow of the evening city lights pass by in a blur. This was nice. Having a little alone time with Joel. You didn’t think it’d go anywhere, but you were still glad you were here. With him.

Ghost’s song “Spillways” comes on next, and your eyes go wide as you jolt forward, reaching for the volume so you can turn it up. “I love this song!” you say excitedly.

You guess Joel had the same idea because he ends up reaching for the volume too. Your hand connects with his as he brushes against the top of yours. You gasp at the contact of his rough hand and quickly pull it away.

When Joel drops his hand, it connects with a plastic water bottle in the cup holder and sends it over the edge, tumbling down your way. He quickly reaches out to catch it, but he misses as it goes spiraling to the floorboard. Instead, his hand lands right on top of your thigh as his calloused fingers connect with your smooth skin.

Your eyes go wide as you hold in a breath. His hand feels so good. Both rough and soft at the same time, somehow the two intermingling with each other. His fingers gently curl against the edge of your thigh, lingering there a few seconds too long until he quickly grabs his hand away, bringing it back to the steering wheel hurriedly like his hand is on fire.

“Shit. Sorry ‘bout that. Didn’t mean to, well. Put my hand on ya,” he says hurriedly, apologizing in a quick breath.

“It’s okay…” you say slowly, still catching your breath from what just happened.

He lets out a drawn sigh as he takes his right hand and runs it through his tousled curls, looking like he’s in pain or fighting off something deep in his mind. He slowly brings his hand back down and barely grazes the steering wheel. He slowly flexes and extends his hand, the same hand he touched you with. It’s like he just pulled his hand from boiling water, like your thigh ignited something in him. Something hot and tempting…

He brings his hand up and rakes it through his scruff, his eyes in deep thought as his eyebrows furrow together. That touch to your thigh definitely affected him. You can clearly see that. You want to test the waters and bring his hand back down to your burning thigh. Let him trail his fingers up and down your inner thigh as they tease you, as they send slick down your center…

He sighs again before speaking. “Maybe I should just take ya home,” he says undecidedly, his voice right on the edge of shakiness.

Back home? Without going to his house first? No, no, you wouldn’t let that happen. This was your chance. Your one chance to test just where this would go. And you would not go back home without at least trying your luck.

“No,” you say a little too loud, a little too demanding.

“No?” he asks, one eyebrow raised in question at the harsh words that came out of your mouth.

“I mean…I just really want to see my guitar. Please?” you beg with a pleading voice, batting your eyelashes with the most innocent expression you can muster up.

Joel does a double take at you with his hand over his mouth, deciding if he should take you home or not, and then he nods in agreement. “Alright, alright. You can come see it,” he sighs.

Yes! You were screaming in silent victory at the win. You had him eating out of the palm of your hand. You just had to play it cool and not get pushy. If he wanted to make a move, then he’d be the one to do it. You wouldn’t push him. The next steps were all on him.

He was driving with one hand now as he leaned on the driver’s side window with his elbow, his hand gently resting under his jaw. He seemed to be lost in thought about something, his eyes pierced with attention on the road. And then it was silent except for the faint hum of the stereo. An uncomfortable silence you’d rather not sit in, so you decide to start up a conversation.

“So, how’s work going?” you ask, hoping it’ll break him of whatever intense trance he’s under.

“Busy, like usual. Got a few clients in this week, so my employees have been busy with those new projects. Have to say that I’ve been a little overwhelmed lately. Been workin’ late a lot. I feel bad cause a lot of the time I come home, Sarah’s already asleep. So I’ve been missin’ time with her. But I just hired a few more employees, so I’m hopin’ I’ll finally work some normal hours and not a ton of overtime like I have been.” He huffs out in annoyance, his forehead creasing into wrinkles as he rakes a hand over his mouth.

Poor Joel. He looks so frustrated, tired even. You slowly reach a hand out and sit it on his shoulder to show your understanding. “Hey, I’m sure Sarah understands. And I’m sorry you’ve been overworked. Hopefully things lighten up and you can get more time at home. I’m sure you’re exhausted. Especially with taking on side projects with my guitar. If I would’ve known, I wouldn’t have asked you,” you say in an apologetic voice, slowly bringing your hand back down to rest in your lap.

“No, it’s okay. I wanted to do that for ya. It’s no problem. I enjoyed working on it. And thank you, for the kind words. You always know just what to say to calm me down.” He looks over at you and gives you a small smile, nodding his head in a thank you.

“Oh, okay. And I try,” you say as you swallow.

You watch him turn on Waterlake Drive as he pulls into your neighborhood. Except you aren’t going home. Not yet anyways. You’re going to his house.

You pass your street and drive four blocks down as you turn on the dimly lit road. Houses aren’t right next to each other as each house has a big yard and their own privacy. Joel turns into his wide driveway and stops the truck, putting it into park.

Joel’s house is a big two story house that has a wraparound porch on the outside with blue shutters on the arched windows. There are two wooden rocking chairs that sit on the porch, and the yard is covered in towering oak trees. It’s a really pretty house, one that’s too big for only two people, but he fills up the space with all his projects that are lying around just waiting for him to finish.

You get out of the truck and slam the white door shut as you hear the beeping noise of Joel locking the truck. He takes out his keys and places the golden house key in the lock as he turns and opens the door.

“C’mon in,” he says as he opens the door for you, waiting for you to pass through.

You step through and make your way down the polished dark, wooden floors. Pictures of Joel and Sarah hang all along the staircase as you pass right by, heading for the living room.

The living room’s done up in tall white walls with pictures of Lake Texoma and wildlife sprawled across the side walls. A huge 70-inch flat screen sits mounted on the middle of the wall and a big cream colored couch sits in the middle of the room with a couple of leather recliners sitting a few feet apart from each other. A small, wooden side table with a luminous lamp sits next to the couch as it shines light throughout the room. And a tall, glass cabinet sits in the corner of the room that’s full of old Rock and Roll albums that both Joel and Sarah collect. It’s really homey, peaceful. You liked coming over here, even though you have only been a couple of times.

“Where’s Sarah at?” you ask, looking around the quiet house.

“She ain’t here. She’s at a friend’s for the weekend,” he responds as he walks back in from the open kitchen.

Oh. So you were all alone with him. In his house.

Fuck.

“Well, have a seat and I’ll go grab your guitar,” Joel says as he exits the room.

You take a seat in the middle of the couch and try to relax, but you’re still flustered from Joel putting his hand on your thigh. It was probably just an accident. You were probably just blowing it all out of proportion, so you needed to calm the hell down. But you’re all alone with him, and that makes heat build in the pit of your stomach.

After a couple of minutes in silence, Joel comes back into the room with your guitar in his hands. He has it flipped to where you can’t see the front of it, keeping it a surprise for you.

“Alright, here it is. Why don’t you take a look.” He flips it around to where you can see it, and you gasp at how stunning it is.

The solid, light spruce guitar looks as if it’s shining. The strings are completely redone, and the narrow neck and body look like they have been resanded to perfection. But what catches your eye the most is the gorgeous, carved etchings in the acoustic guitar that makes patterns of sunflowers all over the bottom half of the guitar. Gold, pink, and orange fill in the flowers and a single hand painted purple butterfly sits at the top, along with a few sparkly swirls around the edges that are all sorts of bright colors.

You walk over to him and place your hand on the guitar, gently running your hand over the smooth etchings of the designs he had made for you.

Holy shit. It was incredible, the most beautiful guitar you had ever seen in your entire life.

Your mouth is agape and your eyes are wide as you take in the beauty that sits in his hands, just waiting for you to play. “Joel…I don’t even know what to say. It’s beautiful. How did you…” You’re completely speechless. You don’t know what to say.

“You like it?” he asks with a hopeful smile, his brown eyes trained on you.

“Like it? I love it!” you shout in glee.

“Good, that’s good. Glad ya do.” He says as he runs a hand through his tousled curls as one stray curl falls over his face.

God, what you would give to run your hands through those smooth curls. You could get lost in them for hours.

“Here, why don’t ya try it out?” he asks as he hands the guitar to you. You gently take the smooth guitar in your hands and walk over to the couch as you sit in the middle, right on the edge. You strum the cords as it’s perfectly tuned. Joel must’ve tuned it for you. That man was so thoughtful, you just couldn’t get enough of him.

“You remember that song I taught you?” he asks as he comes around the couch and stands a few feet away, looking at you as if he’s waiting on something.

“You mean that Nirvana song?” you ask, not exactly recalling the entire song.

“Yeah. Something In the Way. You remember it?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Umm, I think so. It’s been awhile since I played,” you reply honestly.

“Well, go on and try it. I can help ya if you get lost.”

“Right. Okay. Let me see if I remember,” you say as your voice trails off. You get your hands in position and take a deep breath as you line your fingers up just right. You start the song off slow, trying to recall all the notes to play.

You start off strong as you remember the beginning. Joel’s nodding his head in the corner as he watches you, keeping an eye on your fingers as you play. The more he watches you, the more you get nervous. You start to fumble your fingers and mess up the cords as the wrong tune comes out. You’re getting frustrated with yourself that you’re letting your dad’s best friend get you this flustered. It wasn’t fair. What was wrong with you?

“Shit,” you say with a frustrated sigh as you mess up the cords again. You scrunch your brows together and curse under your breath.

“Hey, it’s okay. You just messed up the bridge of the song. Let me show you.” He comes to sit on the couch beside you, so close that his thigh connects with yours as his muscles hug his jeans to him.

He places his left hand on yours as he positions your fingers exactly where they need to be. You bite your lip as his calloused fingers connect with yours, his thick fingers gently guiding you through the bridge. You can’t focus with him this close. He smells like whiskey and pines, a woodsy scent that’s clinging itself to you, making you dizzy from the smell.

You mess up again as you lose focus, only thinking of how good he smells and how delicious he’d taste. You’re starving for him. A hungry lioness that wants to devour her prey. And that prey is Joel.

Your right hand forgets to strum, and you mess up the entire song.

Christ. Get a hold of yourself!

“Sorry, I haven’t practiced in a few weeks. I thought I’d at least remember the entire song. It wasn’t that long ago that I was playing it,” you sigh disheartened.

“You’re doin’ fine, sweetheart. You want me to refresh ya on the song?” he says with deep brown eyes staring you down in question.

“If you wouldn’t mind,” you reply with a more upbeat tone.

“C’mere then.” He scoots his body to the back of the couch and spreads his legs as he grabs your waist and pulls you to him, sitting you down right in between his legs, right against his broad chest. His arms circle you as his hands come down on top of yours, covering them with his calloused fingers burning into yours as he positions them on the strings.

You gasp at the position you’re in. Joel had never taught you like this. Being this close, practically in his lap.

Fuck.

“You wanna go over to C and play these cords together.” He takes your fingers and strums them along the neck of the guitar, guiding your right hand to play some different notes. He takes you through the entire song slowly as he guides your fingers through every note.

“Alright, that’s good. There ya go. A little slower, right there. Good,” he murmurs as his deep breath rumbles from his chest, sending vibrations through your back.

His instructions were always so clear, so crisp as he languidly guides you with his rough hands. He was an excellent teacher, the best you’d ever had. Always so careful, so pristine, so diligent, so attentive…

His hot breath is blowing down your neck as he leans over your shoulder, his lips so painstakingly close to your skin that he could lean over and drag his lips over your neck. He scoots his hips up as he comes closer to you, so close that your back is crushed against his broad chest and his biceps are caging you in as you hold the guitar. His thighs are right up against yours as they gently squeeze your legs, making your breathing pick up at how close he is now.

He’s practically suffocating you with his tight abs and woodsy scent, letting the whiskey get you drunk from his breath breathing down your neck. It’s almost insufferable at how worked up you’re getting over him. You’re agitated, sexually frustrated at how fucking much you want to jump in his lap and pull his lips down to yours. Let him get you drunk off his whiskey taste as his tongue explores your mouth thoroughly.

He dismantles his hands from yours and coaxes you to keep going with a gentle, steady voice. “Now, you try by yourself. See if you can play it back to me.” He lets his hands fall to the sides of the couch as he stays in place, your body tucked into his tightly.

“You want me to play it myself?” you ask with hesitation in your voice.

“Mhm. Go on now. Play it for me,” he repeats.

You take a deep breath and get your hands in place, focusing on the cords. You slowly start playing the Nirvana song as the guitar strums to life. You’re getting the hang of it, finally remembering the right cords to play.

As you get further in the song, Joel sits up straighter and leans forward, his hands moving to his jeans and his lips almost brushing your neck. You keep playing, trying not to get distracted by the handsome man that sits behind you.

You’re closing in on the end of the song, just about a minute more left and then Joel interrupts your concentration. “That’s really good, darlin’. Nice and steady. You’re a fast learner. Think I could teach ya harder, more complicated songs in no time,” he replies with a low voice, making you break your train of focus.

“Oh yeah? Like what?” you ask quietly as you continue strumming along lightly, barely picking at the cords.

“Metallica, Bullet for My Valentine, Ghost, all those bands you like,” he lulls as he presses further into you, his lips dangerously close to your skin. You can feel his breath hit your collarbone. That hot, sweltering breath that you want to bask in, burn in.

“I’d like that,” you purr.

“Yeah?” he asks, digging one of his hands into the material of his jeans like he was trying to control himself.

“Yeah,” you reply, still faintly playing the guitar.

Without warning, he lifts his left hand and moves your long, beachy curls out of the way, sweeping them over your left shoulder so he has access to your neck.

He gently slides his nose up the right side of your neck, stopping right before he gets to your earlobe as he breathes in deep. “You smell like citrus and vanilla,” he groans in a deep voice as he moves his right hand to your thigh, resting it gently on the top of it.

Your eyes go wide as his fingers trail up your leg, slowly inching their way to your inner thigh as his fingers flex, running his nails up and down in steady strides, his hand ending just at the cutoff of the denim material, so close that he could lift the edges and dive his hand into darker, wetter regions.

His calloused fingers slowly flex and extend as he gently runs his fingers over your skin, making you want to come absolutely undone right there on the couch. His lips graze your skin as they trail down your neck, barely skimming the surface as you feel just how soft his lips really are. They feel magnetic as he teases you with his lips, not yet fully giving in.

You’re still playing the song, just a few seconds left before it’s over. “Doin’ so good, darlin’. Such a good little guitar player,” he purrs as his lips make contact with your skin, his mouth gently brushing up the side of your neck as you feel him sink down into you, hitting that sensitive spot that drives you crazy.

Fuck.

A wave of slick pools at your center as you squeeze your legs together, a breathless moan getting stuck in your throat. You stop playing, not able to concentrate any longer. Not when his mouth is on your neck and his fingers are pressed against your inner thigh.

“Joel,” you press, your voice coming out as clipped and desperate.

His fingers trail up to the waistband of your jean shorts as he dances his fingers up and down the denim, teasing you like he knows what he’s doing because he does know. He knows damn well what it’s doing to you. He’s working you up nice and slow. Starting that low burn in your stomach as it spreads to your center, down your thighs.

“You tell me to stop and I’ll stop,” he says in a deep, husky voice as he kisss your neck again, his fingers slowly unbuttoning the top button on your jean shorts.

Suddenly the room is too hot, the tension too thick in the air. Your breath is coming in and out like you’re about to hyperventilate and your skin is scorching at his touch. You feel your spine tingling as he grazes his lips against your jawline, his fingers slowly unzipping your shorts, getting ready to take them off.

“Don’t stop, please,” you beg as you move your hips up, slowly setting the guitar to the side as you put your hands on his knees, holding on for dear life.

“Don’t want me to stop? Want me to keep goin’? Want me to show you how else I can use my fingers?” he asks seductively, his voice low as you listen to that melodic tone.

“Yes, please. Show me,” you plead as you bite your lip in anticipation.

“Alright, I’ll show ya. Just ‘cause you asked nicely,” he says as he unzips the zipper all the way and pushes the shorts down your legs, letting them drop to the floor as he trails his fingers up and down your inner thighs, letting you squirm against him as you can’t stand the anticipation any longer.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this. How long I’ve had my eyes on you, you pretty thing,” he groans as he ghosts his hand over your center, lightly tugging at your waistband as he slowly lifts the pink lace up, sticking his thumb inside as it trails across the top, not quite yet to your dripping center where you need him the most.

“And those legs. God, those long, tan legs. So soft, so perfect,” he purrs as he trails his left hand up your thigh, letting his finger gently slide down your clothed center as it causes a hiss to come from your mouth.

“You want this?” he asks as he sinks his right hand lower, finding your slick folds as he barely puts pressure on them.

“Oh, fuck. Yes,” you groan out as you try to spread your legs further apart, your center desperate for some relief.

“Mmmm, thought so,” he murmurs, a thick, heavy breath coming from his throat.

He puts more pressure on your center and spreads your folds as he circles you slowly. You can hear the sloshing and sticky noises from your wetness and it’s making you so much more turned on, making you feral for his touch.

“Goddamn, you’re wet, darlin’. All this for me?” he asks with a smirk as he uses his other hand to slowly slide your ruined underwear to the floor, leaving you completely bare on the bottom.

He takes a good look at you as he spreads your legs over his thighs and opens you wider, exposing your dripping cunt that’s at complete mercy to Joel’s hands.

“Fuck, you’re pretty, baby,” he growls as he runs his hands up further and catches your clit as he puts more pressure into it. Circling nice and slow, building up that arousal and heat that threatens to make you come undone in just a matter of time.

“Oh, God,” you moan as you grip his thighs and dig your fingers into his jeans as you lean your back into him, his lips skimming down your jaw as he works at your clit meticulously. Feeding your arousal that’s pooling all around you as another wave of slick washes down your thighs.

“That’s it, darlin’. Gonna show ya exactly how a man should get a woman off. Want you to scream my name by the time I have you comin’. Gonna show you just how good your daddy’s best friend can finger fuck you,” he growls, a low guttural sound coming from deep in his throat. It’s primal and territorial. He’s claiming what’s his. And it’s you. And it’s hot as hell.

You let out a breathy moan as he plunges two fingers into your dripping cunt as he works hard and fast at sliding his fingers in and out of you. Up and down, back and forth as the sounds of slick and wet fingers connect, causing you to buck up your hips at the building sensation. You’re already so close and you can’t take much more. It’s too much. He’s too much.

He presss a hand down on your hips and clicks his tongue, locking you in with his grip so you’re unable to move. “You stay in place, sweetheart. I’m not lettin’ you get away just yet. You’re so close, I can feel it. The way you’re arching your back and tightening your pretty cunt around my fingers. You’re almost there, and I’m gonna make you come hard, understand?” he asks in a low, raspy voice as you feel his bulging erection growing in his jeans as you push back against it.

“Yes. Please, Joel,” you beg as you lay your head against his shoulder, looking up at the now blown out black pits of his eyes as he stares down at you with a devilish smirk on his face.

“Please what?” he smiles down, his smirk playing across the side of his mouth, making him look handsome as hell.

“Make me come,” you whisper out of breath.

“That’s all you had to say, sweetheart.”

He takes his thumb and presses down on the most sensitive spot of your clit as his index and middle fingers work at your insides, pumping in and out as the wet, sloshing noises get louder.

Your legs start to shake as he circles and circles your clit, rubbing faster and harder as your breathing picks up and a hot, burning sensation is right at the edge of spilling over. The room gets heavier and thicker as the gasping moans and heat intertwine together, making a muggy room of desire and seduction.

Your legs are shaking so much that Joel has to hook your right leg under his as his left hand holds your other one down. He’s going to make you ride out this orgasm whether you can handle it or not. The sensation is overbearing as you feel your walls start to spasm as they squeeze around his thick fingers that pump in and out of you.

“Joel, I can’t…I’m so…I’m almost…” you moan in quick, shaky breaths. Barely able to hang on any longer.

“C’mon, baby. Let go. That’s it. Want you to be a good girl and come on my fingers. Come on, almost there,” he coaxes as he speeds up his fingers and plunges deep into the spongy spot of your walls, pressing firmly on your clit in just the right spot.

You feel your insides clench up one more time around his fingers as white, hot heat fills your entire body and then your walls go slack as you feel yourself release hot liquid all over his fingers. You let your eyes roll back as you moan his name loud as the liquid continues to drip down your center and covers the inside of your thighs.

“There ya go. Such a good girl,” he purrs, his eyes bleeding into yours as you struggle to keep your eyes open.

It’s like you’re hypnotized, in a daze the way your body feels like it’s floating as Joel works you through your intense orgasm, his fingers slowly fucking up inside you as he makes sure he gets every drop of slick inside you that he can.

He takes his other arm and gently runs it up and down your thigh, easing you from your orgasm as you slowly come back to earth. He gently uncurls his fingers from inside you and brings them up to his mouth, lapping up the slick on his fingers as your eyes go wide at the provocative action. He gently runs his other hand down your arm in a comforting way and then slowly unlatches your legs from his grip.

“That was incredible…” you express with blown out pupils, your heart racing a thousand miles per hour as you sink all your weight into his chest.

Joel laughs as he pulls you into his lap and caresses your cheek, slowly pushing a strand of hair behind your ear in an affectionate way. He was being so careful with you, so gentle. You felt so safe and secure in his strong arms. It was nothing like you’d felt before with a man. Joel was one of a kind.

“Glad I could make ya feel good,” he laughs as a gentle smile curls up at his lips, his dark eyes hovering over you as his lips are just inches from yours. You want to taste them, see how good they feel on yours.

“I didn’t think…I didn’t know you were into me,” you answer quietly as you stare up at him, waiting for a reply.

He furrows his eyebrows and flexes his jaw before he speaks. “Sweetheart, I’ve liked you for quite some time now. Just didn’t know how to go about it with your dad being my best friend and all.” He sighs and lets his head drop back against the couch as he takes you with him. He rakes a hand through his messy curls and looks back up at you with another sigh. “Your father would kill me if he knew I just finger fucked his daughter.”

“He doesn’t have to know. It’s our own little secret,” you snicker as you lean your head on his chest. “Joel, I’ve liked you a long time. A very long time. I just thought you were off limits.” You shrug as you relax back into him as his arms pull you in and keep you warm.

“I mean technically I should be off limits, but…” He trails off and doesn’t finish his sentence as his eyes are in a far away place.

“But what?” You shake him out of his trance as he comes back down to reality.

“But…I can’t leave you alone now. Not after this,” he gestures to the mess on the couch that you made. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re mine now. And I don’t intend on sharing,” he growls as his dark eyes penetrate your gaze, sinking deep into you, awakening something that had been dormant till you met him.

Mine? Oh. You liked the sound of that. A lot. And it was possessive, dominant, making you hungry for more of him, needing more of him.

“Then don’t,” you breathe out in a quiet voice, your eyes intently locked on his.

He looks into your eyes with those desperate, needy honey eyes of his and then looks down at your lips, repeating the sequence a couple more times before he cups your chin and brings you in close. He presses his lips to yours as his large hands cup your face. It’s slow, romantic, everything you hoped it would be.

The kiss deepens as you part your lips and invite him in. He slides his tongue in your mouth and collides into yours as he slowly swirls and massages your tongue with his. His lips are so soft and large, feeling like they’re made just for you. And his taste.

God, he tastes so good. You can taste the hint of hazelnut coffee, a drop of whiskey, and maybe a taste of honey as his tongue invades your mouth in all the right places.

You moan into his mouth as he kisses you deeper, faster, more desperate as he grabs the back of your hair and pulls at just the right pressure. It feels good. Like he’s being dominant with you but also soft, the perfect combination.

You push your body up as you straddle his lap, feeling that tight bulge in his pants as you start to unbuckle his leather belt, desperate to get your hands on him. He puts a strong hand around your wrist and stops you before you can go any further.

“And what do ya think you’re doin’?” he asks as he lifts an eyebrow, a small smile hiding behind his serious gaze.

“I just wanted to make you feel good too,” you confess, giving him the best smirk you can muster up.

“Is that so?” he asks with a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Mhm,” you hum, using your free hand to push his broad chest back into the soft couch.

“Hmmm. Alright then, darlin’. Show me.” He lets go of your wrist and lets you pull the belt loose from his dark jeans. You slowly unzip the zipper but before you can pull down his pants, he stops you again as he cups your chin and lifts your head to look into his eyes.

“On your knees,” he growls dominantly as his eyes turn from soft brown to dark black pits as his pupils expand.

“Yes, Mr. Miller,” you reply automatically without thinking as you drop to the soft rug, getting on your knees as you place your hands on his muscular thighs.

“Just Joel, darlin’,” he reminds you. “Now, be a good girl and show me how good you can suck this cock.”

He stares down at you with seductive eyes and a large smirk painted across his face. He looks so goddamn pretty. And the way his plaid sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, exposing thick veins that cover his arms is making you even more turned on.

You waste no time and pull down his jeans and then his black briefs, freeing his erection from the combines of his pants. It plants firmly against his stomach, and you gasp at just how large he is.

Holy shit. He’s massive.

You gulp and scoot up to the edge of the couch as you bring your hand around his thick width. You start sliding your hand up and down his large length, watching as the veins in his cock wrap around him, feeling the coarse, wiry hair that blankets around the base of him, transfixed on just how big he is.

You bring your head down and slowly lick the tip as you let your tongue swirl around all his sensitive spots, still using your hand to slide up and down him as precum bubbles over the edge. You savour the taste of him as you let the salty flavor run down your throat all hot and sticky like. You lick the tip again, this time looking at him seductively under your long eyelashes as you let your hand work up and down his largeness.

“Fuck,” he moans under his breath as you stare up at him, his black pupils blown out as he watches you devour him inch by inch.

You test your limits and take him further into your mouth, going down as far as you can until you gag on him, slowly coming back up for air before you go back down again.

“You look so fuckin’ pretty sucking my cock, darlin’,” he groans as a grabs the back of your hair as you go down on him again, this time taking him deeper, going past your limits. You choke on him as you feel your throat constrict around his length, feeling just how thick he is as the salty taste runs down your throat like warm cider.

He fists your hair and works you up and down him as you gag and choke on his delicious cock. Your eyes water as you feel saliva pool in your mouth and run down your chin as he takes you as far as you can go, speeding up his actions as he fucks your mouth over and over again. Up and down, deeper and deeper. Driving you fucking crazy.

“That’s a good fucking girl,” he growls, sending a wave of slick between your legs as you continue deep throating him.

He loves every second of it, and you love it just as much as he does. You love feeling his cock slide in and out of your mouth, love tasting him, love the way his eyebrows furrow together and the deep, breathless moans he makes from his throat as you make him come to life. And you love how possessive he gets with it. It’s so fucking hot. You revel in making him yours, making him want you, making him feel like he’s the most special man in the world, because he is. He’s so special, and now he’s yours. All yours.

He deep throats you one more time as he hits the back of your throat, making you audibly gag around him as your throat closes up around him, squeezing him as your saliva encases his thick cock.

“Goddamn!” he moans loudly as he pulls out of your throat as the saliva sticks to the end of his hard cock, running a trail of glistening saliva from his tip to your chin as you wipe the tears from your eyes. You miss one as it runs down your face.

Joel leans forward and catches it, wiping it away with his thumb as he cleans the saliva from your chin, making sure you don’t have a spot left on your face.

“You didn’t come,” you say quietly, unsure of why he stopped you.

He bites his bottom lip before answering you back. “I know, darlin’. That’s ’cause I’m not done with you yet.” His eyes turn into deep black pits again as he yanks you up from the floor and straddles you across his lap, the tip of his cock just inches from your weeping entrance as you’re soaked with arousal.

“Want you to ride me, sweetheart. Now get on top of me,” he instructs. He lifts your hips as he moves the tip of his cock to your drenched entrance, just barely slipping in, waiting for you to go down.

“Lower for me,” he demands, his voice raspy and deep. You slowly lower yourself down on him as he presses up deeper into you, expanding your walls right to the point of pain. You wince but keep your face controlled as you start to ride him nice and slow, feeling just how thick he is as you squeeze him, starting to move faster as you go up and down, up and down. Feeling every single flutter that your walls make as his large length caves inside you.

You groan and press your forehead against his as you straddle and ride him, digging your thighs into his sides as he grabs the back of your ass and squeezes, sending slick running down your center. The room starts to grow too hot, the stickiness and humidity mixing in with your fully aroused state. You can feel your hair stick to your face as the sweat shimmers across your forehead. You speed up the intensity, feeling every single detail of his cock as he rams up inside you time and time again. Making you nearly drown in your own slick.

“Fuck,” you groan as you continue riding him, building up that sweet orgasm that’s about to be set free. The sticky, slick noise from him sliding in and out of you is too much. He’s too much, too sexy, too fucking good for you. You need a release, you need to come. This was too much. “Joellllll,” you moan as you draw out the last syllable of his name, begging for him to make you come.

“That’s it, darlin’. Taking me so fucking good like the good girl you are. You’re almost there. I can feel it,” he says seductively, making you bite your lip at how sexy his bedroom voice is. It’s low, deep, provocative. A noise that could make you come just at the sound of. He’s electric.

“Want some assistance, darlin’?” he asks with low, drawn out words. Setting your insides on fire.

“Mhmm,” you hum out, trying your best to keep yourself in one piece.

He grabs the back of your hair and pulls you to his mouth as he devours you, biting your lower lip and shoving his tongue inside your mouth as he twirls around yours, setting your taste buds on fire. Drowning in his coffee and whiskey taste, wanting to drink him down until you can’t taste anything except him. Only him.

He takes control and places his hands on your hips as he bucks up inside you, thrusting deeper and deeper until he’s bottoming out, hitting you so deep that you swear you start seeing stars.

You place your hands around his neck and hold tight, your fingers wrapping around the curls that reach the back of his head as you claw at him, running your nails through his scalp. He moans at the sensation and continues plunging into you with his massiveness taking over you entirely, feeling every vibration through your body as you’re on cloud nine. You’re almost there, almost…

“You on birth control?” he asks with gritted teeth, a low growl leaving his throat as he thrusts inside you, sinking his nails into your sides.

“Mhm,” you choke out a moan, barely able to answer.

“Mmmm that’s good. Real good. Gonna spill all inside ya then. Is that what you want, darlin’? Want my cum inside that pretty pussy?” he asks with a gritted, clipped tone that’s full of arousal.

“Yes, please. Fuck,” you moan as he places his thumb on the throbbing bud of your clit, pressing just enough to pull that building orgasm out of you as you clench around his thick cock and feel white, hot heat slide over you.

You throw your head back and moan his name, feeling yourself unclench from him as you spill all down his long length. You feel your fingertips go tingly, the sensation making its way all the way down to your toes as they curl, feeling your heart speed up as the palpitations set in. It’s the most intense orgasm you ever had in your entire life, and you know then that you will never be able to get Joel out of your head. You’re hooked like a shot of espresso. Needing to consume it every day to be able to function properly. He’s like a drug. Nightshade. Deadly but intoxicating, a taste you can’t resist. A taste you crave, want, desire.

“Fuck, sweetheart. Your face is so fucking pretty when you cum, when you’re saying my name,” he growls as he emphasizes the my. Making it sound like you belonged to him now. And fuck you want that more than anything.

He thrusts inside you faster, harder as he knits his eyebrows together, getting caught in deep concentration as his breaths become ragged, unhinged. “You’re so tight, feels so good inside ya. You’re squeezing me so hard. Goddamn, you pretty thing,” he groans as he digs his fingers into your hips, pounding once, twice, three more times before he holds you down on his thighs and rolls his eyes up to look into yours with those black pits staring up at you hungrily.

He opens his mouth and moans as he spills his cum inside you. You feel the sticky, hot mess coat your walls as he thrusts once more, getting his fill of you entirely. Your breathing is rough and winded as you chase down your high from the intense fucking.

He keeps you there, staying inside you for just a few minutes as you both collect your breath and just stare at each other, taking in each other’s ecstasy and heat as the tension doesn’t disperse from the room. It stays like a hot, summer day with the humidity intensifying. It’s like you’re in the middle of a rainforest. It’s so hot, so suffocating, so muggy. And you can see that you’re caught in the middle of a hard spot. Alone with the stalking panther that wants to eat you alive. And that panther is Joel. He catches you, and now you’re all his for the taking. A complete menace at best.

He finally slides out of you as you feel his seed start to drip from you as it drops against his thighs, mixing in with the sweat and lust from each other. He falls to his back on the couch and brings you with him as he pulls you into his arms and brings your legs over his as he gently drags his fingers up and down them, soothing you from the hot cardio you had just taken part in.

“Fuck,” he says in a deep voice as he kisses the top of your head and brings his hand under your chin, lifting it so he can look into your eyes. “You’re so fucking pretty, baby. And your eyes. They’re so beautiful, they’re practically sparkling for me right now, just like diamonds.” Your breath catches as he gazes over you, admiring your beauty and charm as he caresses your cheek affectionately.

Oh, God. You’re in trouble. You’re falling hard and fast for your dad’s best friend. What a mess.

“Joel,” you say with admiration as you rake your fingers through his salt and pepper scruff, acquiring a slight groan from deep in his throat from the light touch. “I like you. A lot,” you breathe as you hold back tears from streaming over. You don’t want this to be over. It couldn’t be. You wouldn’t let it be.

“Oh, darlin’. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this. To have you, to hold you, to feel just how soft your skin really was. Been holdin’ back a long time. But something snapped in me tonight. When I saw you with that guy. I wanted to wring his fucking neck,” he spits as his eyes go cold. You gasp at the intensity of him. Of his words. He really does like you. This is real, it’s all real. And you just can’t believe it.

You run your hand down his broad chest as he pulls you closer, and you lean into him as your head rests on his chest, feeling every ragged breath go in and out as his chest rises and falls in waves.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to leave you alone now, darlin’. Not after this,” he says, holding you tight as he strokes your cheek, pulling back another strand of hair behind your ear softly.

“Then don’t,” you breathe, hope filling your gut as you cling to his bulky, tight arms.

He lets out a soft chuckle as he plays with your soft curls, running his hand through your hair gently as it sends a wave of warmth and serotonin over you, completely calming you of any anxiety. “I don’t intend to, darlin’. You’re all mine,” he coos.

Mine. There it was again. You were his and it felt so right.

“Joel?”

“Hmm?” he hums as the vibrations in his chest reverberate around you like a thunderstorm but calming you entirely.

“Can I stay with you tonight?” you ask in a quiet, meek voice.

“‘Course, sweetheart. I wasn’t planning on takin’ ya home. Not after this. You’re stayin’ with me.” He cups your chin and slowly brings his lips down on yours as you drink him in nice and slow, fully embracing the taste of him that was now a part of you.

When you finally break apart, you look up at him with a worried look on your face, your anxiety returning in full force like a galloping horse about to collide with another.

“What is it, sweetheart?” he asks with furrowed eyebrows and soft brown eyes that are searching your face, trying to find what was wrong.

“My dad….what if he somehow finds out that we…what if…”

He puts his thumb on your lips and hushes you, a gentle soothing sound coming from his mouth. “We can worry about that another day. He ain’t gonna find out,” he reassures you.

The unsettled feeling dwells in the pit of your stomach, and the worried expression doesn’t leave your face as you continue looking at him. A tear threatening to pool at the corner of your eye, but you hold it in. Not wanting to worry Joel with your anxious thoughts.

“Hey, you trust me?” he asks as he looks deep in your eyes, his brown eyes honing in like a hawk.

“Yes, of course,” you nod.

He takes your hand in his as he clasps his thick fingers around yours. “Then believe me when I say this will work out. I’m not lettin’ ya go, darlin’. I’m gonna make sure your daddy doesn’t find out. He ain’t gonna suspect a thing.”

You nod up at him, slowly pulling yourself back together. “Okay,” you agree.

“Alright. Now, let’s go get you cleaned up in the shower and get ya to bed. You must be exhausted,” he says as he pulls you up from the couch, picking you up bridal style and carrying you up the stairs to his bathroom.

After the warm shower, you get right in his bed with him. Wrapped up in his strong arms with one of his large plaid shirts hugging your body as you breathe in his pine and woodsy scent, enveloping yourself entirely in him as you memorize exactly what he smells like. Wanting to remember this moment as the best night of your life.

You fall asleep shortly as you listen to the faint sound of his breathing as you lay against his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around you. And that night you only dream of brown eyes, broad arms, thick fingers, and wet, sticky sensations. But one thing still clings to the back of your mind as you dream of Joel. Just one thing that you can’t quite shake as it interrupts your sweet, wet dreams of Joel. And that one thing is your dad.

Fuck. You just had mind blowing sex with your daddy’s best friend.

Tags: @janaispunk @studioghibelli @cinnamongorll @callmecath1 @joelalorian @dugiioh @ladamari68 @amyispxnk @pedrostories @tuquoquebrute

Part 2

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