#okay first night back at home with the folks

[luxcruor]

.* hooboy

[pedroscurls]

let me show you (one-shot)

summary: joel comes home and shows you (and mainly himself) that age is nothing but a number.

pairing: no outbreak!joel miller x fem!reader content warnings: EXPLICIT CONTENT (18+ ONLY MDNI), established relationship, age gap (joel's in his 50s, reader's 30), unprotected p in v (be safe folks!), oral sex (m and f receiving), fingering, mating press (i feel like this is joel's go-to), doggystyle, cowgirl, multiple creampies (oops), light manhandling, light marking, no use of y/n. word count: 5.5k a/n: so happy to take part at @yxtkiwiyxt's other "never have i ever" challenge for her one year writing anniversary!!! congrats on one year, kiwi - you're such a talented writer that it's so crazy to me that you've only been writing one year! can't wait to see what other stories you create - you got a lifelong fan in me and i'll read everything and everything you write 🫶. i chose joel miller and got the prompt: never have i ever had sex more than 3 times in one night. this is just complete filth, so please heed the warnings and most of all, enjoy <3

The entire drive home, Joel is seething. Hands gripping the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles turn white. Jaw clenching so hard that he’s sure he’ll end up cracking a tooth or two. He isn’t even sure why he’s so angry, why some other man’s words have such an effect on him. 

“Aren’t you old enough to be her father?” 

The frustration radiates through his entire body, tense and tight. The age gap had been something he was wary of in the beginning, but you had always been the one to reassure him that age didn’t matter to you. He tries to hold onto what you would tell him—how safe he makes you feel, the way being in his arms brings you comfort. 

“Aren’t you old enough to be her father?” 

He had fired that man the moment it left his lips. Tommy had to hold Joel back, and could see the way his older brother’s eyes darkened with rage. His personal life was off limits. You were off limits. After firing him, Tommy had convinced Joel to go home, that he needed the rest of the day to just cool off. 

And now, as he pulls into the driveway, Joel can’t help but hear those man’s words echo in his mind. 

“Aren’t you old enough to be her father?” 

He climbs out of his truck and storms inside. He knows you’re already home, knows that you’re probably deep in papers that need grading, knows that you’re going to be surprised to see him home so early… 

But Joel is determined—he’s suddenly on a mission to prove to himself that age is nothing but a number. 

He drops his keys in the bowl near the door, kicks off his boots and walks upstairs to your office. The door is slightly ajar and he gently kicks it open with his foot. You look up at him and the look of surprise flashes across your face before a large grin lines your lips. 

“You’re home,” you set your pen down and stand up from your chair. “Everything okay at work?” 

Joel just grunts in response, takes three large strides in your direction before he’s standing in front of you. “Need you,” he growls, his hand coming up to brush your hair away from your face and past your shoulder. He leans in, presses a soft kiss on your jawline and down the side of your neck. 

“Joel,” you whimper, moving your hands to rest on his hips. “Baby, hold on—What happened?” 

“Nothin’,” he mumbles, teeth grazing your pulse point. He hears you let out a whimper and it only fuels him further. Only he could pull those sounds out of you. Age gap, be damned. 

You try to push him away to figure out what’s truly going on, but he just wraps his arms around your frame and pulls you flush against him. Joel turns you so you’re leaning against the edge of your desk, your hands moving to his broad chest. 

“Joel—”

He pulls back and looks into your eyes. You can visibly see that there’s something bothering him. His gaze is dark, brows slightly furrowed, eyes narrowed, and jaw clenched. “Think you can stop grading for one afternoon, baby?” 

“Can you first tell me what’s going on?”

“Nothin’ goin’ on,” he lies, hoisting you up onto the edge of your desk. Joel immediately moves your legs apart as he steps in to stand between them. Slowly, his hands move along your thighs, gaze moving along your frame. There’s a hunger in his eyes, clear determination that you can’t put your finger on. 

“You’re lying. You’re a terrible liar, you know that?” 

Joel grunts and moves a hand to your cheek, thumb brushing lightly along your soft skin. “Just wanted to get home to be with my girl, that a bad thing?” 

“Not at all,” you answer. “But something’s clearly bothering you and—”

“Ain’t nothin’ botherin’ me, darlin’,” he interrupts. “Now, can you stop talkin’ so I can kiss you, hm?” 

“Me talking never stopped you before–”

Joel grunts in reply and leans in to press his lips firmly against your own. Immediately, your hands card through his hair, gasping when you feel the urgency of the kiss. His hands roam your body, already sliding them underneath your shirt. The way his lips move against yours—hurried and desperate—catches you off guard and you’re finding it incredibly difficult to keep up. You part your lips, slowly trying to pull away from him to truly get to the root cause for his sudden behavior, but he doesn’t let you. 

Instead, his large hands grip your hips, tug you to the edge of your desk so that his jean-covered bulge presses firmly to your already throbbing core. Joel’s lips move effortlessly against your own, tongue darting out to flick against your own. You whimper against him and he growls in response, pulling back only slightly to nibble on your lower lip—this action alone causes your legs to wrap around his waist and pull him even further into you. 

“Joel,” you mumble breathlessly, gently tugging on his hair to pull back from him. You’re breathing heavy, lips swollen, eyes dark when you finally look at him. 

“Gonna spend the rest of night showing you how much I love you,” he promises, rolling his hips against you. 

“Baby,” you moan out quietly. “You always show me how much you love me.”

“Hm,” he answers. “Not enough. Never enough.” 

“Are you sure you’re okay? Nothing happened at work?” 

Joel shakes his head once. “No, now can we stop talkin’ about work?” 

You nod and slowly move away from the desk to stand in front of him. You take his hand, play with his fingers before lacing them together with your own. “So, just me and you tonight?” 

Joel nods, “just me and you, baby.” He stares at you for a moment and all of a sudden, the man’s words from earlier comes back—serving as a reminder of why he had been upset in the first place. 

He releases your hand and tosses you over his shoulder. Joel hears you let out a quiet gasp of surprise, but he begins making his way out of your office and down the hall to the bedroom. It doesn’t take him long, but he can feel the strain in the center of his jeans when your hands begin to roam his body. 

Once inside the room, he tosses you onto the mattress. You prop yourself up on your forearms, but Joel—once again—tugs you to the edge of the bed. He wastes no time in hooking his fingers into the waistband of your shorts and pulling them down your legs with your panties, tossing the articles of clothing carelessly to the side. 

“Fuck,” he whispers to himself. He parts your legs and licks his lips eagerly, your sex glistening with your own arousal. 

Joel reaches down to undo his belt, followed by his zipper and button on his jeans. He pushes them down his legs, kicks them off to the side, and reaches for the ends of his shirt to lift over his head. Now clad in only his boxer briefs, Joel watches you remove your shirt as well, lying back on your forearms once you’re completely bare and naked for him. 

He reaches down and squeezes the length of himself, hardening even further at his touch. Joel leans over you, hand pressed on the mattress near your head as his free hand comes to settle between your legs. His fingers begin to make quick work, gathering your arousal on his fingertips as he teases your opening. 

“Always this wet for me, aren’t ya?” He whispers, leaning down so that his lips hover near your ear. Joel hears you let out a gasp when he slides in the tip of his middle finger—your walls welcoming him almost immediately. 

“J—Joel,” you moan, eyes fluttering. Joel slides his middle finger further into your depths, down to his knuckle, before he pulls it out completely. His entire digit is glistening and he brings it up to his lips, licking and sucking your arousal off his finger. 

“Christ,” he groans. “Can never get enough of you.” Then, Joel settles onto his knees in between your legs. He presses soft and light kisses on your inner thigh, gently nipping along the way. Though, once his lips hover near where you need him the most, he lets out the most animalistic growl you’ve ever heard. 

You sit up on your forearms, eyes glazing over and beginning to flutter when you feel him lick a stripe along the length of your sex. He keeps his eyes solely focused on you, one hand moving up your body to push you to lie back down. 

“Just relax,” he whispers. “I got you, baby. Always got you.” 

You finally fall onto your back when his lips move towards your clit, tongue flicking against you repeatedly. Your hands move to his hair immediately, pulling and tugging as he applies more pressure. 

Joel knows he could do this for the rest of his life if he could. He ruts against the mattress—your sweet taste only fueling him further. He grunts against you when you pull and tug on his hair and he can feel your arousal drip down his chin. He moves his hands to your legs, holding them apart as he pulls back to look down at you. 

“Look at you,” he says with a low groan. “Lyin’ there lookin’ so pretty.” Joel doesn’t let you get a word in because he leans back down, grips your thighs, and moves his lips to your sex. 

Your back arches—the burn of his beard scratching against your inner thighs, the way his tongue expertly moves in and out of you. A loud moan escapes your lips when you feel his thumb slowly begin to rub circles into your clit. You know you’re close, can feel the pressure building and building. When your eyes lock with Joel’s, you see the corners of his lips lift—the man is fucking grinning. 

He pulls away, but before you can whine in protest, he slides two fingers past your folds. Your hands move from his hair to the sheets, gripping it tightly as you feel him expertly begin to move his fingers in and out of your depths. You’re so wet, the sounds of his fingers squelching with each thrust into you mixes in with your moans. Joel knows—he always knows when you’re close. 

As he pumps his fingers in and out of you, Joel leans down and latches his lips around your clit. It’s just what you need to be pushed over the edge. 

Your back arches in the air, legs attempting to close and squeeze around his head—unintentionally—as your body trembles with pleasure. He slows his movements, pulling back and away from you. His fingers easily slide out of you—your arousal already staining the sheets of the mattress. 

You’re breathing heavily when you finally look in his direction. You can see your arousal glistening on his chin, over his beard. You watch him push his boxers down, his manhood springing at attention. Clearing your throat, you slowly turn on to your abdomen as he stands upright. Before he could even say anything, you reach out and wrap your hands gently around the base of his length.

You glance up at him—there’s just something in the way he’s standing above you that causes a shiver to run through you. He reaches down, gently pushes your hair away from your face, thumb brushing against your jawline. 

“So pretty, baby,” he whispers. His eyes flutter for a moment when you slowly begin to stroke the base of his manhood. When you lean forward to wrap your lips around his tip, Joel moves his hand from your cheek to the back of your head as a low groan escapes his lips. 

You hum in approval, feeling his hand slowly push your head down against him. You get the hint—moving one hand from his base to rest on his hip as you take more of him into your mouth. Your tongue swirls around him as your other hand strokes what your mouth can’t take. 

When you glance up at him, Joel’s head is tilted back—neck outstretched, veins more prominent, broad chest heaving up and down, and his lower lip pulled between his teeth. He always looked so beautiful like this. 

Suddenly, you feel his fingers curl into your hair and pull you away from his slickened length—it glistens with your saliva. 

You whine in protest, trying to lean forward to wrap your lips back around his throbbing manhood, but he clicks his tongue and holds you away from him. 

“Not gonna last if you keep that up,” he admits honestly. “And tonight, I want you as many times as I can.” 

“Joel,” you bite your lower lip, hands moving up his chest. “Once is enough and—”

He shakes his head and pushes you onto your back. His strong arm wraps around your waist and slides you further up onto the mattress as he settles himself between your legs. Joel stares into your eyes and with his free hand, grasps his length to run his tip along the length of your sex. He gathers your arousal around his tip, growling lowly to himself as he notches himself at your entrance. 

“Not tonight it isn’t,” he finally answers, pushing fully into you in one long and deep stroke. Joel groans when your walls envelope him—warm, wet, tight. He always loves it when he thrusts into you for the first time because it serves as a reminder of how perfectly you were made for him. He sees the way your face contorts into pleasure—mouth slightly agape and brows furrowed with a quiet whimper escaping your lips; he finds it so cute how you always try to hold back your sounds of pleasure. 

“J—Joel,” you moan, hands moving to come up to rest on his broad shoulders. 

Something in him snaps and there’s a primal urge that courses through his veins as he stares down at you. Joel takes your hands from his shoulders, gently placing a soft kiss on your knuckles, before he grabs your legs and places them over his shoulders instead. At the new position, he feels himself slide further into your depths and it only urges him further. He pushes into you, his own hands resting at either side of you as he pulls out to his tip only to thrust back into you. 

You’re folded in half—body beginning to tremble already as he picks up the pace in his thrusts. You had a very healthy sex life with Joel, but this time… this time it feels so different. It feels like he’s on a mission to prove something to himself. 

The sound of his skin smacking against yours echo the walls of the bedroom, your moans increasingly becoming louder and louder. Your hands move to his lower abdomen in an attempt to push him away because you feel the pressure creep up once more. He growls in response and grabs your wrists, pinning them above your head. 

“Close huh, baby?,” he growls.

“Joel, p—please,” you whimper, toes curling. You can’t move—hands pressed into the mattress, legs thrown over his shoulders, and his entire body pressing into you. It’s by far the most intimate position you’ve ever experienced and the way he’s slamming into you pushes you over the edge. 

“Joel!” You moan loudly, walls already clenching around him as your body trembles once another orgasm takes over your entire frame. 

“Fuck,” Joel groans, releasing your wrists to rest his own large hands on your hips. His own thrusts begin to falter as he feels his release begin to creep up quickly. He tries to think of something else, tries to make this last longer, but the way you’re tightening around him just pushes him over. 

He slams into you once, twice, three times before he releases into you. Joel lets out a guttural groan, the hands on your hips tightening its grip as he slowly rolls his hips into you. Slowly, Joel moves your legs from his shoulders to instead wrap around his waist loosely and he looks down between your bodies to see his spend trickling out of you once he pulls out. 

You’re breathing heavily, staring up at him with a dazed look on your face. You gently reach up to touch his cheek, feel him lean into the pit of your palm as he stares deeply into your eyes. “Where did that come from?”

Joel shrugs and gently pecks your lips. “Just wanted you, baby.” Slowly, he pulls away from you and stands from the bed to grab a wet and warm towel to wipe his release from between your legs. He watches you shiver against his touch, eyes fluttering when the towel brushes against your most sensitive areas and he smirks. 

“Joel,” you whimper. 

“Sorry,” he grins proudly. Once you’re cleaned up, he sets the towel in the laundry basket and then falls back onto the bed with you. You lie on your side and he comes up behind you, arm draped over your midsection as he brings you flush against him. He peppers light kisses along the back of your bare shoulder. “Love you,” he whispers. 

“I love you too,” you tilt your head back against his shoulder and shut your eyes. “Made me tired,” you whisper, voice trailing off. “Didn’t even have dinner yet.”

He chuckles and shuts his eyes, holding you close. “How about we take a short nap and then I’ll feed you, hm? That sound like a plan?”

“Yes,” you reply with a small smile, turning your head just enough to press a soft kiss onto his cheek. “Maybe you should come home early more often,” you giggle.

Joel’s jaw tightens as the man’s words echo in his mind again. He doesn’t reply—just holds you closer to him and feels you relax in his embrace. 

Joel awakes almost an hour later—you’re still leaning back against him and his arm is still wrapped around you from behind. He can hear your quiet breathing, takes a peek in your direction to see you peacefully asleep. He feels you shift back against him and he’s suddenly aware of the lack of clothing that you both are wearing. 

His mind drifts momentarily, remembering the events that unfolded just an hour ago. He can still feel the anger bubbling within him, can still hear that man’s voice echo in his mind.

“Aren’t you old enough to be her father?” 

His arm remains draped over your waist and his large hand soon encompasses your breast, thumb brushing against your nipple. He hears you let out a quiet moan and Joel can feel his lower half begin to stir. He’s surprised that after an hour, he can feel himself getting hard all over again.

Slowly, Joel presses himself firmly against you from behind and moves his lips along the side of your neck. As he begins to pepper light kisses on your skin, his hand begins to massage your breast into the pit of his palm. He hears your breathing quicken and quietly—in that sweet voice of yours—you say his name. 

“Joel,” you whimper. 

“Shh,” he whispers, teeth grazing your earlobe. Joel releases his hold on you and gently moves you to lie on your abdomen. He quickly moves to hover above you, his legs placed on either side of you. His large hands move to your backside, spreading your cheeks apart as he lets out a low growl at the sight of you. “Can’t get enough of you,” Joel growls. 

He grasps his hardening length, tugs on it twice before he presses his tip into your slit. Slowly, Joel pushes his hips forward—you’re already so wet and gripping the head of manhood as he pushes himself further into you. 

Your hand reaches back for him, trying to press against his lower abdomen to stop him from pushing any further. You’re already so sensitive—walls quivering as he grabs both your wrists to hold against your lower back. With one stroke, Joel fills you to the brim and he feels you begin to squirm against him.

“Joel!” you exclaim, eyes falling shut as you press your forehead against the mattress. He feels so much bigger like this and when he pulls his hips back—your walls sliding along his length—only to slide back into you, it causes a loud moan to escape your lips. 

“H—-how?” you mumble, feeling his hand release your wrists only to grip your hips, pulling you to prop yourself up on all fours. 

Joel doesn’t reply, the man’s words echoing in his mind with each thrust.

“Aren’t you old enough to be her father?” — thrust.

“Aren’t you old enough to be her father?” — thrust.

“Aren’t you old enough to be her father?” — thrust.

Your hands grip the sheets so tight because Joel’s never been this rough before. With each thrust, Joel’s jaw tightens. He grips the back of your neck and pushes you face down onto the mattress as he slams into you repeatedly from behind. His skin slaps against your own and you can feel the tight grip he has around your hips—knowing that there’s going to be bruises there later. 

“J—Joel!” you moan into the mattress, pushing back against him as you feel yourself begin to reach yet another orgasm. Your walls begin to tremble, can feel a rush of wetness between your legs and the pleasure racking through your entire body. 

“Fuck,” he finally moans—your walls tightening around his length in a tight grip. Joel leans over you, hand moving from the back of your neck to grab a fistful of your hair to lift your head off the mattress. He breathes heavily into your ear as his thrusts begin to falter. “Come for me,” he demands, thrusting into you that your body jerks forward. 

“I—I can’t,” you whimper. Your entire body is on fire and you’re so close to the edge, but you’re holding back… and Joel knows because his eyes narrow at your words and he leans down to gently bite down on the side of your neck.

“I said,” he groans, delivering yet another hard thrust. “Come for me.” 

With his free hand, Joel reaches down and begins to circle your clit. It’s just the right amount of pressure for you to reach your peak. Your toes curl and your eyes shut tight as a loud moan escapes your lips. Joel smirks proudly, releasing his hold on your hair as he grips your hip instead. 

Joel delivers one, two, three thrusts before he releases into you. His eyes fall shut, head tilted back as he tries to catch his breath, slowing his thrusts as your walls continue to milk every last drop. When he finally pulls out, Joel opens his eyes to watch his release slowly drip out of you and onto your inner thighs. 

He bites his lower lip and falls back onto the bed next to you, lying on his back as he glances over at you. 

“Well,” you whisper, looking over at him. “That was something.”

“I wasn’t too rough, was I?” he asks with soft eyes—his big, brown, puppy eyes staring at you with concern now that his mind is clear. 

“Would you hate me if I said it wasn’t enough?” you tease, leaning over to peck his lips. “You promised me food and instead…”

“You were just so…” Joel bites his lower lip, his gaze raking over your frame with lust-filled eyes. “Inviting.” 

“Maybe I should sleep naked more often,” you grin, standing up from the bed to walk towards the bathroom to clean yourself up. 

“If you do that, ain’t nothin’ gonna get done,” he chuckles. Joel stands up as well, walking after you as he wraps his arms around you from behind. “What does my girl want to eat?” 

“Can you order a pizza?” you smile, wiping his release from between your legs. You toss the tissue into the trash and then lean back against him, head resting against his chest. 

“Of course, baby,” he smiles, turning his head to kiss your temple. 

You take note of the marks on your hips and the darkening spot on the side of your neck. You bite your lower lip and slowly turn in Joel’s arms, staring up at him as your arms wrap around his neck. “Gonna have these marks on me for a few days at least.”

Joel arches a brow, eyes glancing down at the mark on your neck before his gaze lowers to your hips. He blushes and rests his forehead against your own. “Sorry, baby.” 

“Don’t be,” you smile, hands playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “I like it.”

“Yeah?” he asks, small smile lining his lips. 

“Yeah,” you nod. “I’m all yours, so let’s let the entire world know,” you tease. 

“Naughty,” Joel chuckles. 

“Only for you.”

Joel growls, hand moving to grasp your backside. “I like the sound of that.” 

“Mmm,” you smile. “I don’t think I can go another round,” you say honestly. “I’m sensitive all over and I’m hungry.”

Joel leans in, pecks your lips lightly as he pulls away slowly. “Maybe you just need some food because I am determined to have you one more time before we call it a night.”

“One more time?” you ask, eyes widening. “We’ve already had sex twice in the last hour or so and—”

“Then we’ll eat dinner and I’ll have you again,” Joel interrupts with a grin. “Don’t put anythin’ on. I’ll have pizza delivered.”

“You want me to walk around like this?” 

“Yes,” Joel growls. 

“Yes, sir,” you smile innocently. 

About thirty minutes later, you and Joel are in the kitchen with an opened box of pizza. He’s dressed only in a pair of boxers, but you’re completely naked—just like he said you should be. You’re sitting on the edge of the kitchen island with a slice of pizza in hand, humming contentedly as you take a bite. 

“Good?” Joel asks with a grin, his own slice of pizza in his hand. 

“Very,” you smile, finishing your first slice of pizza in record time. You see Joel arch a brow and you just roll your eyes playfully. “I gained an appetite.”

Joel chuckles to himself and moves to stand between your legs. “You did, huh? Why’s that?” 

“I came like three times already, baby,” you tell him, reaching for another slice of pizza. “I really don’t think I can do any more than that. I’m already—My body’s just so sensitive.” 

“Oh?” he asks, eyes looking at you from top to bottom. He moves his hands to your thighs and gently spreads them apart, looking between your legs to see your sex glistening. “How come you’re wet then, hm?” 

“Joel…” you whisper, setting the slice of pizza down as you wipe your hands with a paper towel. “I’m just—I’m always wet whenever I’m around you.”

“That so?” 

You nod, feeling his finger run along the length of your sex, gathering your arousal. You let out a quiet whimper, a shiver running down your body at the sensation. “Joel, baby…” 

“Always so ready for me, ain’t you?”

You nod, biting your lower lip. “Joel,” you repeat. “I—If we have sex one more time, I won’t last long and—”

“Shh,” he interrupts. “Let me just take care of you, baby.” Joel lifts you off the counter and sets you down onto your feet. He leads you to the couch in the living room where he takes a seat and shimmies out of his boxers, kicking them carelessly off to the side. He can already feel himself getting hard as he grasps his length and begins to stroke himself to full mast. “Come on, baby,” he urges, pointing to his lap with his chin. 

You nod and straddle his lap as your hands move to his shoulders. You slowly lower your hips to feel the tip of his manhood brush against you. Gasping, you lift your hips and stare into his eyes. Joel’s gaze darkens and he moves a hand to your hip, gripping it tightly as he pushes you onto him. Your walls—so wet—encompasses him tightly and he tilts his head back against the couch, a low groan escaping his lips. 

Joel feels so deep like this and you begin to roll your hips forward and backward. The hair at his base brushes against your clit and your body begins to tremble already. Your hips move so slowly because that’s all you can take right now, but Joel… It’s not enough for him. Even with your fingernails digging into his shoulders, gripping it so tight, Joel needs more. 

He moves his hands underneath you and lifts you slightly off his lap—just enough to give him space to begin thrusting upwards. Joel growls to himself as he looks up at you, your breasts bouncing as he thrusts upwards. 

“Joel!” you moan loudly, wrapping your arms around him as you press your front against him—holding onto him tightly. “Baby, please…”

“You feel so good around me, baby,” Joel whispers into your hair, eyes falling shut. “Always so wet for me, always so tight… Fuck, you were made for me.”

“J—Joel,” you whimper, feeling his hands move to your hips instead as you roll your hips against his own. You keep your tight hold onto him, gasping quietly as you feel your walls begin to tremble yet again. 

“Yes,” he groans, arms wrapping around your waist to guide you forward and backward on his lap. Joel knows he won’t be able to last either—he’s surprised that he was even able to recover so quickly in the span of two hours to do this three times. 

“Love seein’ you like this,” he says quietly, feeling your arms unwrap itself around his shoulders. Joel feels your hands move to rest on his shoulders as you ride him like your life depended on it. “Fuckin’ beautiful,” he grins, eyes scanning your face before his gaze lowers to your naked frame. 

“Joel, baby… I—” 

“I know,” he whispers. “Let go for me, darlin’. I got you.”

“Fuck!” you moan, head tilting back as you move your hips forward and backward quickly. Your body shakes with pleasure as the tightness builds and builds until you can no longer take it. You collapse into Joel, breathing heavily. 

Joel groans to himself as he grips your hips, guiding you along his length as he chases his own release. It doesn’t take long because when you whisper his name, he feels the tightness in the pit of his stomach break until he releases into you for the final time that night. 

Joel rests his forehead against your own, feeling himself soften while still inside of you and he makes no move in lifting you off his lap. Even as he feels his seed trickle down to the hair at his base, Joel keeps you seated on his lap, strong arms embracing you. 

“Thank god it’s the weekend tomorrow,” you whisper with a quiet giggle. 

“Why’s that?” he asks with a small smile. 

“Because I’m sure that I’d have trouble walking,” you answer. 

“You’re good for my ego,” he chuckles. 

“Where did all of that come from?” you ask honestly. 

Joel shrugs, staring into your eyes. “Nowhere.” 

“You’re lying.”

He sighs and finally asks, “Does our age gap bother you?” 

“What?” 

“I’m old enough to be your father–”

“I don’t care,” you interrupt him. “Our age gap means nothing to me…” 

“But it should, shouldn’t it?” 

“A bit too late for that, don’t you think?” You shake your head, lifting your left hand in the air and taking his left hand in your other one, showcasing both of your wedding rings. “We’re married now, baby. We’ve had this conversation before.”

“Some– Some asshole made a comment and it just got to me,” Joel sighs. 

“Did this happen at work?”

“Yeah,” he answers truthfully. “Fired him and Tommy had to stop me from doin’ somethin’ stupid and I just—” he sighs. 

“Well, you just proved that age is nothing but a number, Joel. We had sex three times in the last two hours… And I’ve never had sex more than three times in one night so…”

Joel lets a small smile line his lips. “Never, huh?” 

You shake your head. “You’d be the first.” 

“And your last,” Joel finishes. “I’m sorry it got me,” he sighs. “I don’t usually care what other people have to say about our relationship, but for some reason… This just got to me.”

“If our gap bothered me, I wouldn’t have married you,” you say quietly, hands coming up to gently brush his hair away from his face. “I love you. All of you.” 

“Even if I’m some old man?”

“An old man wouldn’t have been able to do what we just did,” you smile. 

He chuckles and gently pecks your lips. “Love you so much, darlin’.” 

“I love you too, Joel.” Slowly, you stand from his lap with a quiet whimper as you extend a hand out for him. “What do you say we take a shower and then spend the rest of the night cuddling?”

Joel smiles lovingly in your direction and stands from the couch, taking your hand. “That sounds like a great way to end the night, baby.” 

[owiil]

A future where Stiles and Derek live in a mountain town that’s not Beacon Hills (Derek has long since admitted the fact that he enjoys having nature to run around in, more so now that he can achieve a full shift), and Derek owns a bar that tends to attract a lot of the supernatural type. It’s just called Hale, and isn’t intended to be for supernatural folk, but when they start coming, Derek makes sure the message is clear that it’s neutral ground.

At some point Derek and Stiles get into a petty argument. They have an agreement that they never walk out on each other angry, but Derek’s already an hour late picking up the kegs and leaves when Stiles storms off to the bathroom to piss.

Given that Stiles is really, very adamant about not walking away angry, Derek shouldn’t be at all surprised that Stiles comes charging into the bar two hours later (Derek will find out that the Jeep had a flat tire and Stiles walked), shouting, “Fuck you, Derek Hale, that was not okay,” as he stomps up to the bar, sweating a little in the summer night heat, shirt sticking to him. Everybody’s staring--regulars recognize Stiles as the local Sheriff who never comes to the bar (Stiles likes to give Derek his space, and he has been to the bar, just not when patrons are there--besides, if things get out of hand at Hale well... Derek's more than got it covered) and are wondering if their bar tender is about to be arrested.

Stiles stops in front of the bar, snarls, “I am fucking livid, so you’re going to give me your keys so I can drive home. But first I want to hear you say you love me.”

Derek, to everyone’s still mounting surprise, fishes his keys out of his pocket, hands them over while nodding, and sighs an irritated, “I love you, Stiles.”

“I fucking love you too,” is more spit and rage than any kind of endearment or warmth. Then the Sheriff is snatching away Derek’s keys and stalking back across the bar, shoving through the front door violently enough the frame rattles.

[dilf-docs]

Give Me Coffee, Utah Love

sleazy!joel 'mullet' miller x younger fem!reader

summary: on the run and looking for a fresh start, a cheap gasoline coffee and to-do list slipping from your bag later, you (have lost your mind and) consider this stranger's proposition.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (52/25), pwp, p. in v., fingering, (one) pussy spank, degradation kink, lwk breeding and exhibition kink, nasty filthy sex, public sex, one joke about kys, strangers to ???, pulled an all nighter for this yey me (its 3am and my alarm sounds at 4:10 lol) so forgive me if i made any spelling mistake, i wanna see ur comments/reblogs bc i crashed out so bad i feel like i deserve it

word count: 4,060 words

side note: that one girl who doesn't play abt snl. okay but who works harder? the devil, a7estrellas or me, that only needed two pedro snl sketches and is acting like a yuppie in the 80s doing cocaine on a bathroom after work bc WOW so many new content. yes, men with mullets should die but this is pedro! song of choice for this piece is queen of the gas station by sleazy dilf patroness lana del rey. also up next, renaldo inspired one shot to celebrate the snl 50 series! (update: read it here)

You liked driving at night.

There was simply something about the eerie silence, the shadows casting upon the streets, barely touched by the headlights and the moon, the quiet hum of the radio and the slow shift of your hands on the wheel.

You liked driving at night, but today, it feels off.

Just this morning, you had looked at your house one last time. It still had that white paint on the porch, that had faded due to the sunlight, and those scrapped stickers on what had been your childhood room's door.

He had tried talking some sense in to you, claiming all your life was there, in Arizona. With him. But Phoenix had started to feel like a prison and he was your warden. So you snuck at dawn when no one would notice, like a criminal. Very fitting.

The sun hadn't touched yet the kitchen where you ate when your feet balanced off the chair and now graced the floor in a lazy manner, eating cereal with marshmallows first and now, just about three days ago, just oatmeal, because it seemed like what a grown up would do.

But in many ways you were still the same kid who was too shy to raise her hand in class because she couldn't find her voice, bound to be forgotten among much louder and brigther kids. Yet he had seen you.

So you stayed: put up with dances where he would spin you until the world was reduced to a blur, and the quiet home life in town-- kids running around and barbecues on the summer seemed like a good ending. You dreamed of a truck and a garden, and the few friends you made all seemed to share the same vision. Except for one.

When Dorothea came back from New York, eyes too wide and smile too bright, she seemed like a different person. In many ways she still was the same girl with an accent who had shared her sandwhich with you during recess, but her words now carried ambition and her gaze seemed awoken by a purpose you couldn't find but on the road that drove out of town.

But folks kept her at arms length. The amusement in her smile was infectious as a disease, and with whispered stabs they would talk behind her back. Your friend bore a scarlett letter for wanting more.

You had never wanted more; compliant might of be your second name. But when you'd see her walk by your house, shorts above her knees and that city girl strut with her sneakers against the hot asphalt, you were envious, and Williams seemed so small and dull.

Who does she think she is? he would say, and you'd nod your head, despite the secret admiration hidden in your eyes.

Suddenly, the red truck sounded stupid and the married life with kids could wait.

We could wait, you had said outloud.

He had laughed, like you just told a joke. It was on surprise, but it felt cruel.

Why? like he couldn't understand you-- as if you spoke on a different language. What is there to wait for?

You took your decision that day.

It started slow, by wearing skirts that rode up with the wind, blaming the lack of clothes on the heat. Then with the nicotine between your lips, the forbidden act making clouds that escaped your red lips. Or wearing the other make up Dorothea taught you, now holding hands with her as people whispered she had tainted your naive soul too. He caught your new smell, and spoke harshly about not wearing clothes that made other men turn to eat out the sun-kissed skin of your legs, because you'd turn too, gaze defiant and full of mischief, but that he didn't know. Might as well wear nothin'. But he cried with his face buried in the same uncovered legs, saying he hated to see you like this; he didn't recognize you.

It was easy then.

One day you packed your bags and took the car you'd been given as a graduation gift, leaving town with what seemed a lifetime stashed in the backseat.

You left a note for your parents, neatly placed on a bed you wondered when you'd sleep again in, if you were ever to be back. To him, who you now just start to wonder if you ever really loved or just accepted because it's what there was and nothing more, you hadn't left a note nor explanations.

He wouldn't understand anyways.

Just the promise of what could've been, shining in the middle of your bed.

You had been driving non-stop, afraid like a fugitive who was being chasen. Sometimes, you'd take stops on the road and pulled out a pen and a book, despite your fingers itching from driving and your urgency to check the phone you'd been to coward to turn on to see the wake of messages your disappearance might have sparked.

There was a sting somewhere outside the ache of your bones or the flutter of your tired eyes, and it cried for home and longed for the life you always envisioned for yourself. But it also felt like a second skin you couldn't quite wash off with the cheap soap and cold water of the motel you had crashed in a couple of hours ago.

You didn't want to live in suburban desert dreams back at Williams. You wanted to feel alive.

It's nightime when the little peep sound jolts you awake. You had been driving in auto-pilot; your car needs gas and you needed rest.

Its probably ten at night, and according to your map, Utah isn't that far. It's a fresh start: a place where no one knows your name or your whole life, for the matter.

Your car comes to a stop under faded neon lights in the middle of the road. There's a truck parked next to your car, the guy inside the convenience store, and that's about it. You're filling your tank while suppressing a yawn, when a movement across your station catches your eyes.

The only other customer, a man old enough to be your dad. He's staring at you, leaning against his truck, arms crossed while the biceps flex with the position, tense. Even from your place, you can see how the veins pop here and there, making you gulp on instinct.

The smoke of his cigarrette gets lost in the neon hues and starry sky. Doesn't he know you're not supposed to do that at a gas station? Yet, his lack of care and recklessness picks your interest.

(Hey! The last time you had human contact was about a day ago and after seeing only roads, asphalt, desert and mountains, you deserved a little treat to entertain yourself)

"Like what you see, doll?" sporting the most sleazy smile you'd ever seen.

Something about him was as alluring as uneasy, the nervous tremble of your hands but the warmth between your legs speaking of said conflicting emotions. You pretend to be invested on the task of filling your truck (the reason you're here, after all) but the way your body burns, begs, to look again is humilliating. So you do, but he isn't there anymore, althought his truck is.

"You know, wearin' a dress like that at night isn't a good idea for'a girl like you"

He appears from seemingly nowhere, making you jump. Your heart flutters and you clench at nothing with the sound of his deep voice, low, akin to a rumble or a thunder. It's laced with diversion, and the not so subtle way he eats you out with his eyes like a starved man, wolfish grin on display as he leans now against your car, makes his intentions all the more clear.

"Why?" you feel oddly bold, instead of scared. Maybe it's the lack of sleep, because why the hell would you be flirting in a gas station, at night, entertaining an old and slighlty creepy albeit attractive man when you had been engaged less than a day ago?

"The weather" he appears nonchalant, balancing the cigarrette like a toothpick between his chapped lips. "Or men"

"Bold of you to say that while wearing that" you poke fun at his outfit, which consists of some shorts, worn t-shirt and a vest. He's sporting the tall socks and slippers combo, dressing like a grandpa but he pulls it off alright. "Also, men? Like who, you?"

He laughs, the sound sprouting rich and grave from his chest. It makes you dizzy. Yup, let's blame the lack of sleep again.

"Well, look at that. Sure got'a mouth on ya', doll" he gets closer, and his scent floods your nostrils. Wood, gasoline, musk, sweat and burnt ciggars. "Just takin' care of you. Say, how about ya' warm that shaky frame of yers? This place has sum coffee goin' on. Shit, but it works"

He could poison your drink for all you care, but all his teeth are on display and he's got a dimple. Also, you're fighting your fluttering eyelids in here.

"Y/n" it's your way of agreeing while extending your hand.

Instead of shaking it, he pulls you even closer and kisses it, his warm lips brushing your cold hand. You shiver at the contact, and it may be the way his firey auburn holds your gaze while doing so or how big his hands feel, both your mind and heart racing.

"Joel" he says, and then that same calloused palm finds its way to the soft part above your ass in your back, guiding you to the store.

Inside, it smells like cheap coffee and grease. You clutch your bag tighter, and choose a table as the stranger pays for your coffee, or well, Joel.

"There ya' go" and he places the hot brown liquid in front of you.

Now that he's closer and under the yellow-ish lights, you take a better look at his face. His eyes, which mock the drink in front of you. His hands, that seem to almost swallow the small cup with their size, and then his hair. God, alright. He sported a fucking mullet of all haircuts. And boy, wasn't it embarrassingly attractive? Your eyes fall towards his beard and mustache, grays sprinkled across them. But your mind and eyes alike went back to the thought of feeling the slightly greasy looking hazel strands, calling for your touch.

"Gonna take a sip or what?" and he smiles. You don't know if it's in diversion by your doze-off or because he knows why.

You had never felt this hot and bothered. Hell, not even normal hot. He had never made you feel like this, and now some fucking random skanky man was getting your panties on a twist in the middle of the road.

"I-I'm going to the bathroom" you manage to squeak out, running for your life.

Inside the stall, you splash some water into your face, as if trying to make you react. Get yourself together, you tell your reflection in the mirror, but then you're fixing your hair, and as you reach for your red lipstick you realize you left your bag back at the table. Fuck.

You get out, only to find your bag weirdly sprawled on the seat, the handles centimeters away from falling to the floor. Then, he, who you only see his sturdy back and broad shoulders, crouched down, like he's reading something, althought Joel doesn't seem the type of guy who chooses to read in his free time.

"Joel?"

And then you see it: the tiny notebook you had been scribbling on the road, looking even smaller on his grip.

Your To-do list.

It may sound stupid, but a week before leaving, you bought it: the last memory of your town and the start of your new life. At twenty-five, the concept may sound a little stupid with what you've written, but you felt your new life deserved to have space for some of those dreams or fleeting thoughts you had during class written down.

And now fucking Joel was reading it.

"Wow, doll. Ya' sure are full of surprises" he chuckles, flipping through the pages. What sounds better: killing him or yourself? Hmm, maybe throwing the burning coffee at him would suffice.

"Give me that back" you extend your rigid hand, voice clipped.

The stupid trail of decisions catches up to you. Why had you trusted a stranger that had oggled you right in front of your face? You're too starved and horny to think straight, clearly, because now he's mocking you while your face burns with red shame.

"Saved your bag from fallin' when ya' rushed outta da seat. Then this lil' thing came out" he stops on a page. "Skinny dipping. And'ere I thought you're a good girl"

"Shut up and give me that" you seethe.

"Wow, doll" Joel chuckles yet again. "don't get yer panties in a twist. If ya' wanted so, jus' ask"

You scoff at his boldness. "Excuse me?"

"Ya' heard me" he gets up from his seat, body towering over yours.

Was it hot in here? Why was your body warm all of the sudden? Was it the coffee? No, you hadn't even take a sip. Joel searches before looking at you again with a content gaze and an ugly smug grin, like he's used to having his way.

"Sex with a stranger" then searches for other, the sound of the pages the only other sound in the room, still not overpowering the one of your heart, echoing in your ears. "Sex in a bathroom"

He closes the little book and hands it back to you. You take it with force, ears burning at their tip. "So?"

"Funny" he muses. "I can help you with both"

Your head drops back against the cold wall as Joel's lips find your collarbone.

This was stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Of all the decisions you've made in your life, this one is either the worst or the best. Fuck, you hadn't even arrived at Utah and could cross two things from the book.

His kiss is rushed, rough and sloppy, sucking on your lips so hard you feel them swollen and bruised. Joel's tongue then pokes inside your mouth, to taste your insides and all of you more deeply, content with the savor of your sweet mouth and gloss smeared across his own. It isn't often that he gets a chance like this: sure, casual sex is like breathing for him at this point in life, where he's made it too far without building a home for a wife. But now, here? You, this pretty young thing, the small whimpers coming out of your lips, how you squirm under his frame and groping hands that travel through a body he can't get enough of. Shit, he ain't young anymore but he's painfully hard and can't stop his task despite his aching joints and age. Joel just wants to taste all of you forever, despite the shit place and rather funny circumstances:

You both, strangers, in an dirty dark alley behind a gas station, about to fuck.

He's pressing his knee tightly between your thighs, the same one you had spotted before thanks to his shorts. His strong grip pins your hand above your head, rendering you immobile under his weight, that presses over you. Shit, you should be thinking this through and running away, but the complete submission and reckless choice makes it all the more hot.

Your throat works up soft, needy noises and Joel marvels at the sounds.

"Keep 'em comin', doll. Wanna know I'm makin' you feel good"

His lips leave lazy wet trails across your skin. The skirt of your dress is raised by his leg and pressed knee.

"Hmh, Joel-" you needily whimper.

"Shh" he swallows a moan with his mouth, "but jus' for me, doll. Keep it low, will ya'? Or want the whole place knowin' what a dirty slut ya' are? Fuckin' with da first stranger that looks yer way?"

You had never been degraded, less thought it would turn you this much on.

"Joel" you whimper his name.

He groans into your mouth, lewd tongues tangling and tasting the messy kiss with fiery passion and hate. Your fingers fist into the thick material of his vest, nails about to ruin it, but by the way his eyes darken and he smiles, Joel might be into it.

The man pulls away for breath, a string of saliva connecting you two.

His hand gropes your ass and then moves to your exposed inner thigh.

"What'a dirty girl" your fingers hook into his worn-out jeans, tugging the peaking waistband forward to you. His weight and chest push into you, "so wet and eager for this dick, you cockhungry whore"

To prove his point, his thick fingers rub your clit through the material of your panties. You tilt your head back in pleasure at the newfound sensation, and he takes the chance to mark your exposed neck and collarbone, making you moan his name when he sinks his teeth on the skin.

"All 'tis for me?" and his fingers fingers slink down to trace your folds again. Your back arches, breasts pressing against his chest. You dig your nails on his broad back, making him hiss with pleasure as you grab for support.

His rough digits slide and push your sticky panties aside, then plunge inside your pussy. You whimper quietly, the squelches of your pussy swallowing his fingers the only sound in the dark, aside from the busy road ahead. The calloused pad of his thumb circles your sensitive nub, pressing and massaging as his lips travel down to the valley of your tits.

"Wanna free this bad girls and taste 'em" he pulls down your dress, mouth practically watering at the rosy soft skin. "Fuck, doll. No bra? Ya' were lookin' for this, ain't you? Makin' the job easy. I'm just'a lucky man"

He wants to see how they bounce with each thrust, eyes darkening with the shade of lust.

"I- Fuck"

Joel's fingers thrust in and out at with a rapid pace and delicious movements you had never been pleasured before with. Now, when he curls them? That nearly sends you over the edge, reaching a spot you had never known existed.

"S'tight" he groans at your clenching warm sticky walls, fingers slowing but still moving as you ride out your high, drenching him in your liquids.

"Found sum sugar for that shit tastin' bitter coffee, eh?" he takes his own fingers on his mouth and sucks on them with a rather obscene gesture, taking them out with a loud pop. His tongue licks what's left off, and you whimper at the lewd image. "Yer too sweet, doll. Can't get 'nough"

Your arms wrap around him, as Joel rolls his hips, seeking friction to relieve him of the uncomfortable strain against the denim.

"Ready to take me in, doll? I'll just warn ya' somethin'" his free hand unbuckles his belt and tugs down the jeans and boxers down, dick in display: hard, and leaking with precum. He drags his teeth against your ear, and his hot breath ghosts over you with coffee and ciggars. "See that? Think ya' can take it?"

The tuft of sweaty hair leading down to his length has you salivating, and your fingers wrap around him before you realize it. Joel winces at the touch.

"Like a champ" and you swear his erection throbs in your palm, head angry and needy.

What a gentleman.

He doesn't wait for more words, teasing your moist folds with his tip before he's inside, buried to the hilt, rough fingers steady bruising your hips as he thrusts you up against the wall. You look up at the flickering lampost, wondering how did you ever made it here and what the hell are you doing, his groans deep inside your ear as his head is buried in the crook of your neck, labored breaths against your ablazed skin. For a moment, he looses the spot and favors looking at you, to take in the sight infront of him: mouth slightly gaped open, eyes lidded, and fingers desperately digging into his back. You're fucked out of your mind, but so is he.

"Like what you see?" you mimick his words from earlier. He lets out a dry and labored chuckle.

"I do"

He snaps his hips, and you're not sure what is it that creaks, too many things happening outside (the cars, the whiff of gasoline, the nocturnal wind). Joel soon takes up an erratic pace. He's so deep in you, his balls slams into your pussy with each thrust he forces into you.

You should start writing more things on that notebook if they would become true and as good as this. Earn a ridiculous sum of money for free, for example.

Joel grunts, hands busy holding you against the wall, but he so badly wants to play with your bouncy tits, so you let out a yelp when his wet tongue rolls over the skin, mouth then sucking the skin until it's bruised, kissing lazily around your hardened nipples until teeth bite on them.

He's going insane; should go more often late night driving if he'd end up fucking pretty naive sweet-tasting girls behind alleys.

His cock fills you so perfectly it doesn't take long before your walls are spasming around his cock, and you're about to cum for a second time, before on his fingers now over his girth inside of you. Joel can sense it, so his filthy mouth goes for it:

"Go on, doll. Show me what yer made of"

You fall apart with a sharp cry, face buried into his shoulder with a bite to muffle it.

He groans as the pleasure rolls through you. "Milk me dry, c'mon. Take all of ma' seed like the slut ya're" Joel speaks while moving inside you, deeper and quicker, aching for release. Then he's pulsing, cumming with a harsh grunt. "Don't waste a drop, doll. I know you're considerate jus' like that"

His hands slide down to your waist, his long hair drenched, sticking to his forehead. There's the silence of the night and your breaths as you try to compose yourselves.

"That's a good girl" while softnening cock still inside you.

"See? Told you: took you like a champ" you pant, trying not to think of what lead you to now, just focused on the high. "I like to keep my promises"

Joel laughs, but its a soft sound; light. It caresses your chest like a wind chime.

He then pulls out, your folds a mess and his dick coated with your juices. "Shit, look at ya' hungry pussy, doll. Wore me the fuck out"

You help him pull up his pants, looking at the socks while you contain a laugh. Then you think again and the alley pulls you out of your post sex haze. Yeah, filling those two checkboxes in your To-do list will feel good as fuck, but:

Now what?

"Joel?"

"Hmh?"

He pulls up your dress to cover your tits when the wind brushes through the alley, with a weird softness to him, then fixes your panties, giving your clothed pussy a weak slap that sends a shiver through your body.

"Thanks for the treat. I'ont remember orderin' desert"

You laugh as you push him off your body, refusing to meet his eyes. This is the second man who has seen you naked, and while definitely not good at words, his wolf-like hunger in his brown eyes and needy mouth besides the hard dick have said more than enough. Besides, it's a little late to be embarrased but you're still trying to process this wild huge leap you took to celebrate the start of your new life.

"Drive safe" you mutter, starting to walk away, thinking how the hell you'll survive the two hours left in the orad with such a sticky pair of panties and sweaty body.

"Where you goin'?" his deep voice stops you before you've reached the end of the alley.

"Utah" you answer in a beat, heart beating dangerously fast.

The same sleazy smile from the first time you saw him adorns his handsome face, all teeth in display.

"Really, doll? Well, lucky you" he lights up a cigarrette, trail of smoke condensing in anticipation. "'Cause that's jus'bout where I'm headed"

cr: divider @kodaswrld / gif @a7estrellas

[motorsportbarbie13]

Christmas Showdown

In which you and Lando run into an ex-boyfriend while you're home for the holidays.

Warnings: talk of abusive relationship (no details though). Established relationship. Protective Lando. This could probably be better and it's pretty short buttttttt I needed to get this out of my head, so enjoy! Pairing: Lando Norris x Girlfriend!Reader Word Count: 1.8k words

Master List

It had been several years since you spent the holidays in your small Midwestern hometown. Usually, your family flew out to London or Monaco to spend the holiday’s with you there, much preferring to leave Michigan’s several feet of snow that was typically on the ground during Christmas. This year was different thought. Your grandmother had been too ill to make the long flight so instead, you came to them. Which was fine with you, you had missed seeing friends that were home for the holidays and missed the nostalgic nights spent around the Christmas tree with your family. The one person who was not fine with it, however, was your boyfriend. 

Lando Norris simply hated the cold. He hated being cold. Hated thinking about the cold. Hated the snow. Anytime the temperature dipped below 50 degrees Fahrenheit ( which also a fight you two had often was how he refused to learn the difference between Fahrenheit and Celsius while also simultaneously refusing to do the same for him.) So you knew he must really be down bad for you when he had agreed (albeit a bit sluggishly) to spend the Christmas holiday with you in your (freezing) hometown. 

There was minimal complaining for the first few days you were at home, mostly because it the weather was fair enough to not be something comparable to the North Pole, but trouble arose the day of your Aunt and Uncle’s infamous Christmas party. The first sign of trouble was your brother’s insistence on a family outing to the sledding hill that was a few miles from your house. Of course Lando had packed several parkas but when he had seen the Canada Goose store in the mall the day before, he had bought the thickest, best cold rated puffer jacket he could find. Despite that and several layers of long johns and sweaters, by the time you reached the sledding hill your poor boyfriend was shivering like your grandma’s ancient chihuahua. 

To his credit though, there was not one single utterance of a complaint or plea to go back to your parents house for a cup of hot chocolate then entire time. Lando happily chased your nieces and nephews around the sledding hill and even went down the hill a few times with you. 

“Okay, folks!” Your dad calls out as the afternoon sun hangs low in the sky. “I think it’s time we all head home and get ready for Judy and Steve’s party tonight. I expect everyone to be at their house by 7pm sharp!” The ‘this reminder is for your benefit’ look that your dad sends you has your already wind chapped face turning even more red. 

“I don’t know why you’re glaring at me! I’m always on time!” You shout, grabbing for Lando’s hand. “We’ll see you guys tonight!” 

Once you get in the Range Rover that Lando had rented for the two week visit, he immediately turns the heated seats on full power and cranks up the heat. 

“Do you want to swing by Starbucks and get something warm before going home?” You ask as Lando pulls out of the park and onto the snowy street. “I feel like I might need to just get you an IV of hot chocolate at this point.” 

Lando gives you a sidelong glare. “I think I have icicles in my nose hairs.” 

Laughter tumbles out of you, quick and light, sending a thrill of pleasure down Lando’s spine. You two had been dating for a few years now and there were still times he’d look over at you and think ‘how the fuck did I convince this girl to be my girlfriend?’. You had come into his life at a particularly challenging time and had been his rock since day one. 

“Starbucks it is, my poor little snowman. There’s one up here in this strip mall. Turn left at this light and then it’s on the right.” 

The parking lot, which is a shared lot with several other big box stores, is an absolute zoo and you can see the line snaking around the inside of the Starbucks before you even go in. To save some time, Lando drops you off at the front door while he goes and finds a spot for the large SUV. 

The line is long when you get inside but you’re thankful to at least be out of the bitter cold. While you wait in line, you mindlessly scroll on your Instagram, which is locked down tighter than Fort Knox. Going private on all socials and not being featured heavily on Lando’s had been one of the things you two had agreed upon when things started getting serious nearly two years ago now. People who were huge Lando fans knew who you were but the casual F1 fan probably wouldn’t have been able to pick you out of a lineup. 

Your casually scrolling, minding your own business, when a deep voice calling your name jolts you out of your little social media bubble. 

“Jeff?” You sputter, surprised to see your college boyfriend standing in front of you in line, huge smile on his face. 

Jeff had been one of the guys you and your best friends had drooled over in high school, having been nearly two years ahead of you when you were teens. You didn’t start dating him until your freshman year of college, when he was already a junior. To say the man was toxic was an understatement. In fact, now that you had a few years distance between the now and the end of the relationship, you could confidently say Jeff had been pretty abusive. 

“Hey, stranger!” He says, leaning in for a hug. You go completely still, totally unprepared to be faced with the man who had caused you so much trauma in the two years you had dated. “I have’t seen you in ages, visiting your family for the holidays?” 

You toss a look over your shoulder, desperately wishing for Lando to come walking in the door. “Uh, yeah. First time in a few years. I usually fly them over to London or Monaco for the holidays.” 

A dark shadow passes over Jeff’s face at the mention of where you live now. “Monaco, huh? You always thought you were too good for us here, didn’t you?” 

Your stomach twists painfully at the look in his eyes and you briefly consider just turning around and walking right out of the Starbucks without your drinks.

Before you can stutter out a response, a strong pair of large hands wraps around your waist as Lando drops his head onto your shoulder. “Darling. Baby. Sweetheart. Love of my life." Lando croons in your ear, not yet picking up on your body language. "I adore you but why the fuck did you have to be born in a place where the air hurts your face?” 

You laugh stiffly despite yourself. “Talk to my parents about that one, love.” 

Lando drops a kiss on your cheek before looking over at the other man. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were talking to someone.” 

Across from you, Jeff had been watching this exchange between Lando and you with an increasing amount of annoyance. Who the fuck was this and why was he calling you the love of his life? 

“Lando, this is Jeff.” You turn slightly, giving Lando a knowing look which he catches onto immediately. “Jeff, this is my boyfriend, Lando.” 

“That’s an interesting name. Only heard that name twice before, once in Star Wars and…” Jeff’s voice drops off as he finally makes the connection. “Wait. Lando…as in Lando Norris?” 

The smug grin that stretches across Lando’s face nearly has you giggling. “That’s me. And you’re Jeff, huh? I’ve heard a lot about you. None of it good.” 

Lando remembered the first time you had ever opened up to him a few months into dating about how you had been in an abusive relationship in college and how much work it had taken to recover from it. He had been your first serious relationship after leaving Jeff, having left the country just to get away from him. Internally, Lando raged at the man standing in front of you two, the protective instinct in him screaming to just lay the guy out right here.

Jeff’s already ruddy face turns red with incandescent rage. You had totally forgotten he was a big Formula One fan and when you remember the fact that not only is he an F1 fan, but a huge McLaren fan, the urge to giggle hits you again. Oh, this was just too good. 

“How’d you…” Jeff stutters. “How’d you manage to bag yourself a Formula 1 driver?” 

The question is a pathetic attempt to rile you up and insult you but both you and Lando see that question for exactly what it is. 

Lando plants another kiss on your cheek and you know he’s doing it to be an asshole. “I was actually the one who pursued her. She turned me down left and right for nearly a year, didn’t you baby?” 

You nod, remembering the way Lando had come into your office at the McLaren Tech Center day after day just to make small talk at first but finally had worked up the nerve to ask you out. You were one of the newer people on the comms team back then and you hand’t wanted to jeopardize the career you had worked so hard for so you had turned him down for nearly a year, insisting that you wanted nothing more than a friendship with the driver. 

“But eventually, he wore me down. He flew me to Monaco and took me out on his yacht for our first date, it was all very romantic.” It had actually been Max’s yacht, but Jeff didn’t need to know that bit. 

You can see Jeff practically seething at this point, knowing that you’re doing so well and he’s still apparently stuck in your hometown. 

“And how are you doing, Jeff? Still working at your dad’s law firm? How is Vance doing? And Laura?” You know it’s killing him, asking about his parents by their first name. 

Jeff just blinks at you for a few moments, realizing you weren’t the little girl he used to push around and take advantage of in college anymore. “Made partner last year, actually.” 

“That must be easy to do when your dad owns the practice, huh?” Lando says, voice nothing but light innocence. 

Jeff’s eyes bounce between you and Lando for several moments before he suddenly reaches into his pocket. “If you’d excuse me, it looks like the office is calling me.” 

“A call from the office the day before Christmas! Gosh, you must be very important, Jeffery.” Lando’s low blow to Jeff’s big ego hits true and without another word, the man scampers out of the Starbucks without a second glance in your direction. 

Once he’s gone, both you and Lando dissolve into giggles, your head finding it’s favorite spot on Lando’s shoulder. “I’m surprised he didn’t try to deck you there are the end.” 

“And mess up his pretty lawyer hands? Honey, I doubt he even knows how to throw a punch.” 

tag list @shelbyteller @formulaal @martygraciesversion381 @longhairkoo @samantha-chicago

[lologoinsolo]

Unedited blurb of an idea I’ve had for over a year or so but is finally seeing the light of day.

Part 2ish

Okay, okay but imagine Reader is like the fourth Princess to the King of (whatever country) and is forced to marry a certain Lord Riley. The reasoning is Reader’s father fears the support that Lord Riley is gaining. And it just so happens that the man has no wife, only rumors of a partner that supposedly is of the “masculine” nature…

Now, Lord Riley is a bastard son that rose to power, he became a leader of sorts and has earned the respect of the “lesser” folk. The nobles despise and fear Lord Riley more than the King and though the firstborn Princess is unwed the King chose YOU to marry the Ghost of Nobles. Just to spite him, to say that he’s not good enough no matter how many titles or lands he has. Lord Riley will never be good enough for the first so he’ll have to settle with the last.

You’re wed before you can even meet the man prior. Your only way of speaking before the wedding bells was through letters. You didn’t expect anything back from him but he surprised you in more ways than one. The gentleness in his letters were a juxtapose to his fearsome reputation. Proclaiming you to be beautiful, fairer than the moon and warmer than the sun. You thought maybe your soon to be husband was different than the rumors but once met at the cathedral, it’s as though the man from the letters was not the same man at the alter.

A full month passed and you became Lady Riley, it’s no secret that the marriage was simply for your father to bring him to a heel. Your husband seemed to despise you, spoke single words and never shared a bed not even on your wedding night. It’s a sham of a marriage but at least you’re away from court and away from your father. You’re allowed that kind of peace since your home is now further up north. It does get lonely but your saving grace is in your bodyguard, a Scotsman with a heart of gold and an eye of knowing when you’re sad.

[strangerexee]

Okay so I was thinking about Bo Chow like usual but like just imagine if you’ve been trying to find husband for years now and nothing has changed, being dumped left and right and ultimately abandoned, because you grew up with the twins and so the few eligible men, don’t want much to do with you, but Bo does and he’s been pursing your forever, always making promises to marry you, but what if you take him serious one day?

ᴍᴇᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀʀʀʏ ʏᴏᴜ | ʙᴏ ᴄʜᴏᴡ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

𝚂𝚎𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝙼𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚙𝚙𝚒, 1932 𝙵𝚎𝚖!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚡 𝙱𝚘 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚠 (𝙴𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚊𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 | 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚘𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚕 𝚛𝚎𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 | 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐 | 𝚞𝚗𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚗 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚛𝚎 | 𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚌𝚢 | 𝚜𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚋𝚞𝚛𝚗 | 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚖 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗)

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ : ᴀɴᴏɴ…ꜱᴘᴇᴀᴋ ᴜᴘ ɴᴏᴡ!

ᴡᴄ : 1.6ᴋ

You’d been trying to find a husband for years now. It was embarrassing, honestly…

And not just trying. Not flirting here and there or batting your lashes at the Sunday socials. You’d prayed. You’d fasted. You’d begged God, begged the moon, begged your own reflection for someone who’d take you seriously. For someone who’d take you home.

But all you’d gotten was abandonment.

Not once. Not twice. But over and over.

Same story every time — they’d look at you, smile at first, then freeze when they remembered. Remembered that you were the girl who ran wild with The Moore twins. Smoke and Stack. The trouble boys with blood on their boots and hearts that didn’t work right. They’d say your name like it had something dirty attached to it. Like it was too close to theirs.

You didn’t sleep with both of them.

Not at the same time, not even back-to-back.

But what folks thought…was enough.

And so every man who took you out once, never came back for seconds.

Except Bo Chow.

Bo owned the only real grocer in town.

Right off Main, past the post office, across from Grace’s white grocer shop. His store was never quiet — he ran it like clockwork. He knew how much flour was on the shelf before he turned the key in the front door. He had a head for numbers, a body made for lifting sacks of rice and crates of apples, and a voice that made you forget what time it was.

He’d been in town almost his whole life now.

Long enough to earn a grudging respect from the older men and more than a few stares from women who never bought groceries until he was behind the counter. Long enough for everyone to know that when he said he was gonna do something — he did it.

Which made it all the more confusing that for years, Bo Chow had been telling people he was gonna marry you.

“Y’all hear Bo Chow said he gon’ wife that girl?”

“The one that was always at that Moore house?”

“Lord have mercy, he must be lonely.”

It started out as gossip.

Then a punchline.

Then a…rumor with weight.

He’d say it like it was nothing. Casually, while weighing out pecans. While handing you exact change. While handing you your groceries and brushing his thumb over your wrist longer than he needed to.

“Don’t let nobody waste your time,” he’d say with those dark eyes low on you. “Told you I’d marry you, didn’t I?” He’d brush his thumb over your bottom lip.

You’d roll your eyes. Smile like it was a joke.

But it never sounded like one.

One morning, after another man — a preacher’s son — dropped you with no warning, saying his mother “had concerns,” you found yourself standing outside Bo’s store, holding nothing but a paper list and the weight of your own shame.

You’d stayed up all night crying into a pillow you didn’t own. Borrowed sheets. Borrowed hope.

But there you were.

Again.

And when Bo saw you through the storefront window, he came out front like he always did — wiping his hands on his apron, already reaching for the list in your hand.

“Let me guess. Flour. Sugar. You want the good honey or the regular one?”

You just blinked at him.

He didn’t ask why your eyes were red.

Didn’t ask why you were trembling when he brushed your arm with his hand, careful, always careful.

He just took the list and nodded.

“I’ll bag it myself. Come inside, stay cool. Got fresh peaches today.”

You walked in like a ghost.

And then sat behind the counter. And watched him work.

And for some reason, that day…you saw him clearer than you ever had.

His rolled-up sleeves, arms veined and golden from sun.

The subtle way he smiled when an old man thanked him.

The careful way he handled a child’s nickel — didn’t take more than what he had to.

The way he moved. Steady. Strong. Full of intent.

You watched Bo Chow lean down to grab a jar from the bottom shelf, and it hit you mid-breath — he wasn’t playing with you.

He meant every word.

Every promise.

Every time he said you deserve better.

Maybe he’d been waiting.

Maybe you were the one who hadn’t believed him.

Later that afternoon, you didn’t say much when he drove you home with a brown bag on your lap, filled with peaches, ribbon candy, and flour you hadn’t paid for.

When he parked in front of your steps, you didn’t get out right away.

He didn’t rush you.

Bo just rested his arm over the steering wheel, turned to look at you, and said — soft, not shy —

“You ever gon’ take me serious?” He didn’t sound like he was tired of you.

So you didn’t answer right away.

Your heart was thudding like it was afraid to get the words out. Like it was remembering all the other men who’d walked away. All the times you’d been left holding hope with both hands, just for it to slip.

But when you looked at him — really looked —

You didn’t see someone waiting for you to be perfect.

You didn’t see someone measuring your past.

You saw a man who meant to stay.

And right there, in the heat of that car, hands trembling in your lap, you said:

“I might.”

His lips twitched. His hand found yours.

“That’s good enough for me.”

He didn’t press you after that.

Didn’t grin like he’d won. Didn’t lean over and steal a kiss like a man who knew the answer before you gave it. Bo Chow just squeezed your hand — once — and let it fall back into your lap like it was sacred. Like it had done enough.

“You sure you wanna go inside?” he asked, voice low.

You looked at your porch. Looked back at him.

And suddenly, the house you’d been trying to make into a home felt hollow. Not because of its emptiness — but because it wasn’t his.

“Not really.”

Bo reached for the key in the ignition, but didn’t turn it just yet.

He looked at you again — and there was something in his eyes you hadn’t let yourself see before. Not fully. Something slow and rich and full of patience. The kind of look a man gives when he’s already made up his mind about you, and he’s just waiting for you to catch up.

His house wasn’t far. Not that far from your place. Not that far from the store. Tidy. Warm.

The kind of place that had rice in every cabinet and a garden out back that didn’t need much tending. The bed was made. The floor swept. There was a jacket hung over the back of the only armchair. The scent of wood and salt and faint cigarette smoke clung to the walls like it belonged there.

He didn’t lead you in. He just unlocked the door and stepped aside.

“Ain’t fancy,” he muttered. “But you’re always welcome.”

You stepped over the threshold like you’d been there in a dream before.

The inside of Bo Chow’s home looked exactly how you thought it might. Like him. Like someone who doesn’t waste words. Someone who buys quality, not quantity. Someone who meant every damn thing he said when he looked you in the eye and promised you something better than what you’d been given.

And that night — without a single word — you helped him take off his shirt and folded it.

You brushed your hand down his chest like you had every right to.

And when he kissed you — cradling your face ever so gently, like you were fragile and made of glass — it didn’t feel like a beginning.

It felt like you’d arrived.

It wasn’t sex. Not really.

You didn’t even get that far. Just your lips and his hands and the heat of his breath on your neck when he pulled you into his lap like something breakable and precious and his mouth brushed against the hollow behind your ear like a confession.

You didn’t ask what it meant.

Didn’t have to.

It was in the way he held the back of your head when you shifted on top of him.

In the way he looked at your mouth like a holy thing.

In the way he kissed you between the eyes before he whispered—

“I told you I’d take care of you.”

And God help you, you believed him.

You woke up to the sound of him boiling water the next morning.

He was already dressed — a clean shirt, sleeves rolled up, collar slightly askew. He had a lighter in his hand and his back to you, standing in the kitchen with a cigarette on the sill and steam curling through the sunlight. His body filled the doorway.

And in that moment, something in you settled.

Like the ache that had been in your chest for years just quieted.

Because this — he — was not something you’d stumbled into. He had been there.

He had been choosing you longer than you’d been brave enough to notice.

You padded barefoot into the kitchen, pulled your arms around his waist, and pressed your cheek against the middle of his back.

Bo didn’t startle.

He just turned the stove down and reached for your hands.

“Been waiting so long for this,” he said. “Told you I was gon’ marry you.”

You buried your face into his shoulder and whispered—

“I know.” You said. “Sorry for making you wait so long…”

The man only shook his head.

But the way he smiled?

That was the moment you figured it out.

You didn’t need to find a husband.

You just needed to stop running from the man who’d already been one all along.

Mannnnnnn I wouldn’t had that man waiting for YEARS….thats crazy work — imagine making BO CHOW WAIT…nahhhh I would’ve said yes the first time he asked.

[majestyeverlasting]

Hello lovely <3

Can I please request a Joel miller x reader oneshot where the reader had a really bad run in with infected on a patrol and then when Joel comes home to find her all panicked he comforts her, gets her cleaned up and into bed .etc. ??

Thank you🥰

𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 | 𝐣𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

contains non-explicit nudity

Pairing Joel Miller x Female Reader

Summary After a brush with death while on patrol, Joel assures you and himself that you're still here as you wind down for the night [outbreak, fluff, 3.3k]

A/N Thank you so much for this amazing request, anon! This is my first fic of 2025, and I appreciate your patience as I took a little break to transition into the new year. I’ve decided to make this fic a part of the From Here on Out universe. I hope you guys enjoy! 

∘°∘♡∘°∘

Chatter and swells of laughter rest at a minimum amid the Tipsy Bison. Only half the usual Friday night patrons have trickled in so far, peppered around the establishment with drinks in hand. The air is thick with the scent of sharp spirits and stale beer. String lights cast everything in a dim, warm glow. 

Beneath the clunk of Joel’s booted footsteps, the floor is sticky. A few nods are directed his way as he saunters towards the bar, which he returns with a tip of his cowboy hat. In the ten months since he arrived in Jackson, he’d built up a reputation for himself. One that was revered and feared all the same. Fading into the background wasn’t an option anymore. 

If folks still didn’t know his name, they undoubtedly recognized him when he walked into the room. That easy, measured stride. Those brows oftentimes furrowed in thought. Those dark, knowing eyes that were humble enough to know he had a lot more to learn. 

The older man wiping down the counter tosses the rag over his shoulder as Joel approaches. Old stains are splotched down the front of his white shirt. But he’s happy to see Joel. A quiet, jazzy piano melody flows from the billiard room. 

“Howdy Clyde,” Joel drawls as he sits. A few barstools down, a pair of friends talk over beer. “You hiding Duke Ellington back there?” 

The man snorts with a shake of his head. “Good ol’ Dennis. Does this a few times a year,” he says. “Comes in, drinks, plays like it’s paying.” 

Joel gazes through the archway to where a couple people shoot pool. Dennis and the piano are just within sight.

“He ain’t too shabby,” Joel says. 

“Not at all,” Clyde agrees. “‘scuse me for a second.” 

Joel listens to the piano as Clyde goes to refill beers. 

He knows you’d appreciate Dennis’ playing. You were drawn to live music like a moth to a flame. Joel realizes then that he misses you. It’s a peculiar feeling that always seems to compound by the end of the day after being apart. You patrolled together when you could, but he’d been on the roster to volunteer at the community stables today. 

It was good, honest work. Peaceful too. There was no need to be on guard, and he didn’t have to talk to anyone unless someone was particularly keen on striking up a conversation. Being with the animals did a lot more for him than he’d ever expressed out loud. 

Back in front of Joel, Clyde braces his thick weathered hands on the counter, “So how’s Alamo? Came bearing good news for me, I hope.” An attentive furrow has formed between his bushy brows. 

Alamo, Cldye’s Stallion, was recovering from what the veterinarians diagnosed as a mild case of the flu. 

“He’s doing much better,” Joel assures. “Got him to eat and drink more than yesterday. He let me lead him around the corral for a couple laps.” 

Clyde’s eyes are grateful. “Thank God. I don’t know how you do it, man.” Joel smiles at the man’s relief.  “What can I get you?” He quirks his thumb to the wall of bottles behind himself. 

There’s a decent selection. Moonshine, applejack, mead—whiskey, which always sounds particularly good these days. 

Joel purses his lips in brief consideration before saying, “I’m okay tonight. Gotta get home to my lady.” 

Clyde hums in understanding. “Smart man,” he says. “I’ll catch you later.”

Outside, it’s cold enough for Joel to see the frost of his breath. People bundled in coats, hats, and scarves mill around because, despite the chill, it’s just another evening in Jackson. Snow still covers the ground from last week’s snowfall, and more is due any day now. The sky is white with promise as the last of the sun’s light lingers near the horizon amid dustings of pink. 

The community center buzzes with life as he passes by. A few people talk outside, and multiple heads can be seen through the windows. Just as he’s about to avert his gaze and continue on his way, his brother bursts through the doors. 

Tommy lifts his hand to signal him to wait even though Joel doesn’t intend to keep walking away. Relief is etched all across his face. 

“There you are,” he claps his gloved hand onto Joel’s shoulder. “You’re a hard man to find when you wanna be.” The slightly frazzled tone of his voice contrasts the casualness of his words. 

Worry stirs within Joel as he meets his brother’s gaze. “Hey. What going on?” 

Tommy wets his lips as he considers how to phrase the news. “Before you freak out, everybody’s alright,” he starts. “Just a bit shaken up.” 

Joel swallows the lump in his throat. He already knows it’s about you. He wishes he were wrong, but wishing never changed what his gut already knew was cemented in time. 

“Your girl and her patrol partner had a run in with some Clickers earlier this evening while they were out,” Tommy continues, and Joel’s jaw tricks. “No bites, thank God. And they managed to take ‘em all down.” 

An avalanche of guilty, frustrated, and relieved thoughts crash onto Joel all at once. Tommy loosely follows after him as he takes a few composing steps away to run a hand down his beard. Heat has risen in his face to the point where it almost doesn’t feel cold anymore. He can hear his heart in his ears.

“Where is she?” Joel finally asks. It almost sounds like there’s a small ball of cotton stuck in his throat. 

“At your place with Ellie. Her uncle Nate dropped by too,” he says. “She was askin’ for you, and I told ‘em you were on the way.”

It’s days like this that make Joel wish you hadn’t rejoined the patrolling rotation. With or without him. 

He’s is about to walk away, when Tommy adds, “She handled herself mighty fine out there. Both of  ‘em did.” 

•••

Death was no stranger to anyone in Jackson, but you’d never stared so directly into the face of a being that embodied such a definite, unyielding sense of finality. Never seen fungal decay so intimately that it made your skin crawl from the inside out. 

There had been four Clickers earlier that evening. Three taken out by your partner, Langdon, and the final one by you after tumbling to the ground. 

In your struggle, chunks of snow had crept into your jacket and dusted across your face. The bitter chill hardly registered from the moment your back hit the ground. Neither did the sound of your pistol firing as the hulking, distorted figure begin to crawl overtop of you. All you could hear was the sound of your own heartbeat like a heavy tribal drum in your ears. Endure, survive, endure, survive. 

Only after Langdon drug you from beneath the limp Clicker, and hauled you to your feet, did you realize you were releasing frantic sob-like whines with every exhale. 

The entire scene won’t stop playing in your head. Electricity still hums beneath your skin. 

“Joel should be here soon,” Ellie assures again, in part for herself. 

He was always better in situations like these. Always knew what to say because he’d lived these same horrors himself, not a handful of times like she had, but countless since 2003. When it came to providing comfort, she always felt as though she was blindly grasping for the next right thing to say or do. 

But you were grateful to have her here all the same. If nothing else, she knew how to sit and be present. And after being asked to share an account of what happened by countless members of the patrol board, being with her as you wait for Joel is the peace you need. 

When you notice the worried way she’s chewing on her lower lip, you reach out for the glass of water she’d sat on the coffee table for you. You take one shaky sip and realize you’re a lot thirstier than you though you were. You drain it in a few big gulps. Ellie straightens up with a sense of having something right. 

“I’ll go get some more,” she says, taking the cup from you. 

Creaks arise on the porch soon after she heads to the kitchen. Then comes the faint jingling of keys. Joel pushes through the front door with a concerned furrow between his brows. It smooths when his eyes fall on you sitting in the living room. 

You look as small as you feel.

Aside from the absence of the sparkle that usually shone in your eyes, you seem as alright as you can be. Which is a much better than the image he’d conjured up in his head, despite Tommy insisting you’d made it back in one piece. 

“Hey,” he greets, carefully, like he’s talking to animal seconds away from curling in on itself. Like that’s all the bass he can muster into his voice.

“Hi,” you murmur, eyes tracking him as he shrugs off his leather jacket and hangs it up. His hair is curled at his ears and a little disheveled when he takes his hat off. 

The floor creaks under his footsteps as he walks to occupy Ellie’s former place. Without uttering a single word, he wraps his strong arms around you and pulls you into his chest.

You press your nose into his shirt like there’s no other place it belongs. He smells faintly of sweat, but mostly of the outdoors. Like air and earth. Breath and constance. Life. So warm, you forget all about the chill that has crept into the room. 

Ellie’s relieved to walk back in to the sight of Joel sitting with you. Your eyes have fluttered closed, so you only hear the sound of the refilled glass being set on the table. Joel meets the girl’s gaze with an appreciative nod. Thanks, kid. You did good. 

“I’m supposed to volunteer at craft night, but I can stay,” she offers. 

You peek up from Joel’s chest. “It’s okay.” 

“Are you sure?” She asks, and you nod. 

“Thank you,” you say honestly. 

“I’ll make you something cool,” she promises. 

When the door clicks shut behind her, silence settles between you and Joel as you rest in his arms. You focus on the rise and fall of his chest, the faint, steady beating of his heart. It says he’s here, you’re here. 

Even with your body cradled in his arms, the thought of losing you haunts his consciousness. Makes tension root through his shoulders, until he takes one long inhale and lets it out. As if shedding the remnants of fear, and dispelling it from his being. 

You can feel him letting his anxiety go, only for it to manifest as guilt within your own chest. 

“We were being careful,” you say, then swallow because the next words are harder to get out,  “They—they came out of nowhere.” 

Apology plagues your tone, and he knows he’s the reason why.  

On more than one occasion, perhaps to his own fault, Joel expressed that he’d rather you not patrol. There were countless volunteer opportunities around the commune, but after meeting him, you expressed your desire to start going out again. 

For the first couple months, you were only ever partnered with Joel because he insisted. It became something you did together, getting to protect the people you love and absorb the beauty of Jackson beyond the commune limits. 

Slowly, he came around to the idea of you being partnered with different people as he picked up other volunteer work.  

Now that you’d had your first close call, you can’t help but consider the possibility that Joel had seen a certain weakness within you all along. Maybe you aren't as vigilant as you thought, or a skilled shooter, or truly capable of holding your own. If it had been Joel, the Clickers probably wouldn’t even of made it within a thirty yard radius before they were shot down—

“Sweetheart? Hey, look at me,” he pulls away so he knows he has your attention. Except, he hasn’t exactly pieced together what he wants to say. 

After releasing a breath, he meets your gaze with an apologetic look of his own. 

“I know you were careful.” His tone is warm with sincerity. “You ain’t gotta justify anything to me.” When you don’t say anything, he keeps talking, “I’m sorry if I made you feel that way.” His dark eyes are earnest, hopeful as they flit across your face. 

You nod, and he wants to believe you’ve let his words sink in. 

“There ain’t a single person in this commune who knows what’s gonna happen when they step outside those gates,” he says. “Best thing anyone can be is prepared, and that’s exactly what you were out there today.”

Joel’s not expecting a response, but he can tell he’s finally gotten through. 

He takes your hand in his and presses soft kisses over your knuckles. After letting go, he eases off the couch to kneel at your feet. You admire the slight hunch of his shoulders as he moves to untie your boots, the delicate way he handles the laces as if they’re somehow a fragile extension of you. 

When he’s done, you angle your feet to make it easier for him to pull the boots off. Even then, he doesn’t stand up. He stays on his knees so you’re eye to eye. 

“How’s a shower sound?” He gently squeezes your knee and waits to follow your lead. 

It’s an illusion of control he’s offering for your sake. Really, it’s all him. After everything today, all you want to do is let go. Follow someone you know you can trust. Someone who always knows how to lead the way.

•••

Joel gets the shower started and, before long, both of you have stripped to your undergarments. He watches as you begin to pull your sports bra over your head, and helps you on the tail end because the strong elastic won’t set you free. 

You don’t meet his gaze again until after you’ve stepped out of your panties. Joel’s eyes rove over you with a quiet, fond attentiveness, and you realize he’s looking for bruises or any sign you’re in pain. 

“I’m okay,” you manage a small smile. 

“Okay,” he says, then runs a hand through his hair as if he still hasn’t quite accepted that you are. His bicep flexes as he does. The expanse of his chest is broad, dusted with dark hair. 

“I promise.” 

Finally, he nods like he believes you. “Go ahead and get in. See you shivering.” The bathroom hasn’t quite warmed up yet, and the window is drafty. Joel makes a mental note to get it resealed. 

You waist no time doing just that. A deep hum escapes you as the water meets your skin. 

From behind the curtain, you can make out the outline of Joel’s figure as he pushes his boxers down his legs. Over the sound of the running water, you can just barely hear him gathering your clothes to go put them in the hamper. 

When he joins you, there’s a gentleness to the way he lathers your body with soap. A diligence. The steam lifting around you carries the light, earthy scent of lemon balm. You let him run the bath sponge along your arms as the warm spray of the shower patters onto your back. 

When he’s done, you wrap your arms around him so the front of your bodies are pressed together. Without pause, he graces the sponge across your shoulderblades before gliding it down your back. He continues all the way down the curve of your backside. You pucker your lips against the front of his shoulder in a pert kiss. He kisses your forehead in return. 

It’s a miracle your legs have held you up thus far. If you were to let yourself go limp, a small part of you likes to believe you’d somehow float. That’s how relaxed you feel. But you have half a mind not to test the theory. The thought makes you chuckle, and Joel peeks down at you with a budding smile of his own. 

“What?” he asks lightly, but you shake your head and close your eyes. “Don’t fall asleep on me.” 

“‘M’not,” you murmur. 

Joel hums in feigned disbelief.  “That doesn’t sound very convincing.” He puts a hand on your hip in a silent request for you to turn around. 

When you do, he snakes an arm around your waist. Behind you, he’s a promise. All muscle, warmth, and wet skin. He runs the sponge over your breasts before dipping down to gently run along the undersides.

Your eyes flutter closed again, just as he presses his soft lips to the pulse beating beneath your ear. The shiver that tumbles down your spine makes you lean back into him, and he’s right there holding you up, getting you clean, weaving you so surely into the fabric of the present. 

He lets you do the same for him. Allows himself to relish the gentleness of your touch. 

Touching his forehead to yours, his voice is thick as he whispers, “Glad you’re okay.” 

The two of you stay in the shower long after you’re clean. 

Until the water runs cold. 

•••

The mattress dips as Joel crawls into his side of the bed. Per your request, candles burn on both of your nightstands, bright enough to provide a glow to see each other’s faces. His warmth is behind you before long, chest to your back as he drapes an arm over your waist. It’s a reminder that he’ll never let go. 

The room is quiet aside from your breaths and the occasional creaks of the walls. You rest a hand over Joel’s to run your thumb over his skin and along the bumps of his knuckles. 

“I’m terrible,” you say all of a sudden. Joel shifts behind you, prepared to counter even without the full context, but you continue, “I never asked about your day.”

Joel gives you a squeeze. “Probably would’ve bored you to half to death anyways.” 

A small smile buds on your face. “Half alive is better than nothing,” you say. 

A chuckle rumbles through his chest, vibrating straight into you. You’d wage wars to hear that sound. Cross oceans to reach it again. Joel feels you shake with a small laugh of your own, and it further solidifies that you’re going to be alright. 

“Let’s see,” he decides to humor you after a brief moment of silence. You turn around in his arms and touch your feet to his beneath the sheets.

“Everything went well at the stables,” he says. “Alamo's doing a lot better. Stopped by the Tipsy Bison to tell Clyde on my way home.” You can hear the tiredness in his voice, making it gruffer. 

“Aww, really?” 

Joel hums and places a hand on your hip. He draws smalls circles with his thumb. 

“He’s such a beautiful horse,” you think aloud. His coat is as black as the night. 

“I’m starting to notice a pattern,” you slip your hand beneath the hem of Joel’s shirt to splay over his side.

“What might that be?” he asks. 

“You making everything better. People, animals...” 

Joel huffs an amused breath through his nose, but doesn’t say anything. Maybe not everything, but he sure as hell knows he’ll never stop showing up. 

You scoot closer to him and allow your lips to find his amid the candlelight. Slow and steady like you’ve got forever. 

-

Thank you so much for reading! All likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. I promise I see them all. 

Check out the From Here on Out Masterlist for more of this reader and Joel.

GENERAL MASTERLIST

[lightsoutletsgo]

welcome home — op.81 (18+)

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader (occasional allusions to reader being thick and a little chubby but mostly non-descriptive of body!)

word count: 4.5k

warnings: (hold onto your hats folks, it’s a long list 🧍‍♀️) SMUT!! porn with very little plot, don’t be silly, wrap your willy! creampie, breeding kink, allusions to oscar being bi, use of sex toys, light degrading (slut, whore), a hint of overstimulation, spanking (ass and thighs),  mentions of reader making a HECKIN lot of mess, oscar catches reader and watches her without her knowing!!

hi loves! this is the fic I wrote last night after the tequila hit and when I read it this morning to proof read it I was like 'wtf did I write?' 😭 I was debating if I should add the whole making out with the toy right there situation but my lovely beta reader @softieekayy said it was perfectly ✨spicy✨ so it has stayed in! as always, read at your own risk. please DO NOT read if you are not 18+! happy reading! mimi 🤍

God you hated triple headers. Okay that was an exaggeration, you loved the excitement of watching your boyfriend do his thing from the other side of the world but what you hated was the fact you didn’t get any of his… attention for a couple of weeks.

At first the big orange dildo had been a joke. One of your friends had bought it for you when she learned of your relationship with Oscar, “for those weekends you’re alone.” She had said. You had laughed at the bright papaya colour and brushed the whole thing off, denying you would ever need a use for it. But now as the box it sat in stared up at you from the bottom of your wardrobe, you felt a thrill rush down your spine, pussy clenching involuntarily at the thought of being filled up after so long. You leaned against the wardrobe door, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath before slamming it shut and storming back across the room to the bed, throwing yourself into the plush comforter and pillows to let out a yell. You rolled onto your back and sighed. No. You would just wait for Oscar to come home. You could handle a few more days, right? Closing your eyes, you turned your head into Oscar’s pillow and inhaled deeply, moaning at the way his scent invaded your nostrils. God you needed him. You shook your head to clear the thoughts away and focused on sleeping. The faster you slept the sooner tomorrow would come right? Which meant the sooner Oscar would be home. 

You gasped as you felt fingers digging into your thighs and your eyes flew open to see Oscar between your legs, his eyes staring back at yours, hazy with lust as he sucked and nibbled on your clit before dipping his tongue into your cunt to get a taste of your sweetness. Your hands flew to his hair as your back arched. You had no clue where your clothes had gone but you didn’t care, too caught up in the way Oscar wrapped his lips around your clit and shook his head side to side. A shriek left your mouth and your legs closed quickly before he spanked your inner thighs and pushed them open, “Taste so good angel…” Your head dropped back onto the pillow as you felt yourself getting closer and closer to your release. Bucking your hips up you tugged at Oscar’s hair and he let out a growl into your pussy, the vibrations doing nothing but heighten the sensation building in your lower stomach. “O-Oscar…” He smirked up at you, “Yes angel?” “Gonna cum!” You squeaked out at his unrelenting movements, “Then cum for me angel, make a mess all over my face hmm?”

Your eyes snapped open and you jolted upright. It had been a fucking dream? You groaned and led back down, a hand coming up to feel how warm your face was. But it felt so real? You whimpered and squeezed your legs together, already able to feel how much you’d dripped everywhere and soaked your panties. You bit your lip, sliding a hand down between your breasts and stomach, feeling the way your breath caught in your throat the closer you got to your thighs. Sliding your panties off underneath your - well, Oscar’s shirt - you gasped as you realised just how soaked they were and how much of your slick had coated your inner thighs. Sliding your hand down you moaned as you began to rut your pussy against your hand, already turning feral with need. You let out a loud groan and huffed.

Standing up and walking over the wardrobe before grabbing that darn box. Unpacking the dildo and quickly washing it off under the bathroom sink you slid back into bed, not even bothering to get under the covers. You stared at the toy in your hand for a moment, it was just a little over average size, more girth than length, and you couldn’t help but shiver when you realised it was a similar size and shape to your boyfriend. You noted how it had been moulded with a few veins here and there for texture and your mouth watered at the thought it conjured up, of Oscar's cock on your tongue and the way he would groan when your tongue traced the veins on his length.

Lying back down and pulling Oscar’s t-shirt up to halfway up your tummy, you gently dragged the dildo up your inner thighs, enjoying the way you felt your pussy leak onto the sheets. You decided quickly that you’d had enough of teasing yourself and so you moved the toy up to your burning core. 

The toy was cold as it rubbed up and down your lips and you bit your lip, relishing in the tingling sensation everytime it caught your clit. You briefly wondered if you needed lube, but with how much you were dripping you figured you could get some later if you needed it. You dipped the tip of the toy into your entrance and your breath shuddered, “Fuck…” A moan came out involuntarily as you sank the toy into your waiting pussy a little further, relishing in the way it stretched you out so deliciously. “Mmm… Oscar…” You couldn’t help the way your boyfriend’s name slipped from your lips as the toy slid into you more, the textured veins on the toy exciting all those spots inside of you. You let out a satisfied sigh when the toy was pushed into you to the hilt and you gave yourself a moment to enjoy the full feeling it offered, before you were pulling it back out to the tip, mouth dropping open as it dragged against your walls, the silicone quickly warming up to your body temperature. 

You started off slow and gentle, shallow little thrusts that had you whimpering and whining as you fucked yourself the way you knew Oscar would. The hand not using the toy flew up to pull your t-shirt up even more to expose your tits and pinch your nipple. You hummed happily, enjoying the feeling but it was quickly proving to not be enough. You spread your legs wider and began to move the toy with a little more force at a faster speed. Your moans grew a little louder, mixing with the slick wet sounds coming from your pussy. Your hand slid down from where it pinched and pulled your nipples to gently rub your clit. You felt the way you clamped down around the toy and how it made it a little harder to thrust and you smiled, knowing that feeling was something that drove Oscar wild.

At the thought of your boyfriend you let out a rather lewd sound, moving your hips up to meet your hand as you started pounding your cunt with the toy. You were drunk on the feeling, moaning like a pornstar, rubbing your clit faster. You could feel your juices all over your hand and you could hear the way you were creaming all over the toy. 

But what pushed you over the edge was turning your head into Oscar’s pillow once more, inhaling and drowning in him as you came. Clenching down tightly onto the toy as your back arched and your legs shook. Practically crying out Oscar’s name, you almost growled with frustration as your hand didn’t stop, despite how tired you were, still needing more. 

You let out a whimper as your hand cramped and you knew you needed to change positions. Slipping the toy out your eyes widened as you saw exactly how much of a mess you had made all over it. You pushed yourself over onto all fours and buried your face into Oscar’s pillow, moving your hand underneath your stomach and pushing the toy back into you as you fucked yourself face down ass up.

The toy easily slid back into your eager hole and you moaned at the feeling. You didn’t hesitate with teasing yourself this time, instead fucking yourself hard straightaway, a deep moan leaving your mouth as your eyes rolled back. From this new angle, the toy reached even deeper and you needed more of it. You continued railing yourself, moaning and whining Oscar’s name with everything you had in you. 

Oscar sighed with relief, feeling all the tension and stress leave his body as the taxi pulled up in front of the apartment complex. Climbing out with his bags, he thanked the driver and headed up to your shared apartment. He knew it was the early hours of the morning and you would still be asleep but if he could be quiet enough then maybe he could surprise you in the morning with his arms wrapped around you. God he’d missed you. As he reached the doorway of your apartment his stomach flipped with excitement and he didn’t think he’d ever unlocked the door or put his bags down so quickly, desperate to have you in his arms again. But when he got to your bedroom door he stopped. Oscar’s hand hovered over the bedroom door handle as he listened to the noises drifting through from the other side. Were you moaning? He heard the noise again and he didn’t have to strain his ears to pick up the slick wet sounds of you playing with your pussy. He gulped, unsure of what to do. Did he go in and risk you feeling upset and cornered? Or did he deprive you of what you so clearly wanted? Oscar’s head tipped back in a silent groan as another whimpery moan slipped through the door. He opened the door and hsi mouth dropped open at the sight. He’d expected to maybe see you on your back with a hand down your panties but what was in front of him was much more lewd than that. There you were, your ass up in the air jiggling deliciously as you pounded a toy in and out of you, a toy that was the same colour as his car? Oscar growled low in his throat and started to take a step towards you but what stopped him in his tracks was the sight he saw when he got closer to you, noticing how you actually had his t-shirt in your other hand and you had it held up to your face as your eyes rolled back and you drooled everywhere. A louder groan tore from his throat and you shrieked at the intrusion, toy dropping out of your pussy, allowing him to see your pretty hole fluttering and clenching for a moment before you were sat on the bed and staring at him with wide eyes, his t-shirt held up over your body in an attempt to cover yourself. “Oscar!” “Hi angel…” Everything was still and silent before he was on you, grabbing your waist and pulling you closer to him as he kissed you. You moaned into his mouth, dropping his t-shirt to instead grab at his hair. Oscar growled before he pulled away from you, 

“Put that toy back inside you, right fucking now.” “What?-” “You heard me angel and I’m not in the mood to play games right now…” Oscar’s eyes were dark and you felt your thighs squeeze together as your hand searched the bed for where you’d thrown the toy in your surprise. You found it and led back on the bed, slowly spreading your legs to let him see your pussy lips and inner thighs glistening with your juices. He hissed and licked his lips at the sight of the creamy mess that had gathered at your entrance. “Go on then… put it back in angel.” Your eyes shot up to look at his, “A-are you sure?” He spanked your inner thigh sharply, “Did I stutter?” You shook your head and slid the toy back inside you, gasping. Oscar sucked in a breath through his teeth and slid his hands up and down your thighs, teasing you. You whined and bucked your hips up. He laughed and repeated the motion, enjoying the way you were already gasping underneath him. “Feel good baby?” You nodded and gasped as he led down on his stomach so his face was level with your cunt. You did you best to close your thighs but a sharp look from him had you opening them up once again. Oscar licked his lips and you felt his hand cover yours at the base of the toy. You removed your hand and whimpered as he started fucking you himself. God this was so hot. You didn’t think it could get any better and then you felt his tongue on your clit. 

Just like in your dream your hands flew to his hair as you were catapulted straight into the buildup for another orgasm. Oscar let out an appreciative moan as he tasted you for the first time. If he was phased by the fact he was effectively licking a fake cock at the same time he was licking your pussy, he didn’t show it, if anything it seemed to make him more enthusiastic, occasionally pulling the toy out completely to lick up the mess at your entrance and then licking and sucking the tip of the toy to taste your sweet arousal from the deepest parts of your pussy. The sight had you moaning and squirming and he fucking noticed… Perhaps the two of you needed to have a conversation at some point…

You were pulled from your thoughts by Oscar taking your clit between his lips and flicking his tongue back and forth over the sensitive button. Your hips rocked back and forth against the toy as you rode his face, “Mmph, fuck yes angel,” Oscar murmured against your clit, feeling how your pussy had tightened around the toy as he struggled to pull it out,. His tongue swirled around your clit, his drool spilling down your pussy and onto the toy making it even more slippery as he thrust it in and out of you. Your hands tangled in his hair as you felt yourself get close, “Baby!” You warned him, Oscar just hummed, your clit still in his mouth and you grabbed at his hair and his shoulders, his hands, anything you could as you tumbled over the edge, back arching and toes curling. You moaned and whimpered as you came, Oscar pressing soft kisses to your clit to draw out your orgasm even longer. You let out an even louder whimper when he pulled the toy out, hating how empty your pussy felt as you squeezed and throbbed around nothing. You stared at the toy in Oscar’s hand and then back up at his face, leaning forward you kissed it softly before licking the tip, taking it into your mouth and gently sucking on it. Oscar groaned at the sight and grabbed your waist with his free hand, pulling you up to his eye level. You giggled as a plan formed in your mind and you gently pushed his hand towards his lips instead, he seemed to understand as he licked your arousal off the toy himself, eyes fluttering shut as he tasted you. “C’mere,” you whispered to him quietly, gently holding his face with one hand as your other hand moved down to squeeze and stroke him through his sweatpants. Your lips also wrapped around the toy and you licked into Oscar’s mouth, making out with him with the dildo between you.

You giggled as you felt him throb through his clothes, clearly enjoying this new experience. You moaned as Oscar broke away from you to duck his head into your neck and leave some sloppy kisses there. You continued to suck the toy off, closing your eyes and putting on a show you knew was getting harder to ignore. Oscar looked back up at you and his mouth gaped a little at how hot you looked. Grasping the toy in his own hand once more he gently pushed the toy down your throat and hissed as you stared up at him, big doe eyes looking at him so sweetly, 

“Back on your hands and knees baby.” His voice was low and though you’d been fucking yourself for a while, you still felt another wave of arousal course through you. 

Turning round you yelped as you felt his hand strike your ass, “Such a fucking slut baby… is this what you do when I’m away hmm?” He leaned over you to bite your earlobe and kiss your neck as he pulled his sweats down. He was ridiculously hard, pre-cum already dripping from the tip of his cock and he smeared it across your pussy lips, sticky and messy. You moaned and tried pushing yourself back onto him but he simply tutted and held your plush hips in place with one arm while he other hand spanked you again, relishing in the way your flesh rippled from his hand, “You just couldn’t wait hmm?” You mewled and shook your head, “M sorry Oscar just missed you too mu- Oh!” You stopped mid-sentence as he thrust into you at once, moaning as his head dropped to the middle of your back. Pressing gentle kisses down as he straightened up, slowly pulling out in a way that had your arms collapsing and your head falling into the pillow. 

“You okay angel?” He breathed, leaning over you again to check in and you nodded, “M okay Osc, promise. Just need you to move, please!” He nodded and pulled out slowly, smirking at the way your body shuddered and shook under him, before he started a relentless pace. His hips slapped into your ass and you fucking giggled as he fucked you. Something about that made Oscar throb. Your pussy convulsed around him as you mindlessly babbled at him, too fucked out to make sense anymore, “Yes fuck Oscar, baby it’s so good, so big, so big fuck,” You gasped, “missed your cock so much baby, missed worshipping it, fuckkkk want it in my mouth, gimme your fingers please?” Oscar obliged and the hand not guiding your hips pushed two fingers into your mouth. Oscar’s own eyes rolled back as he felt you drooling and sucking. “Not enough Osc, need more!” You cried out and his eyes caught sight of the orange toy that now lay discarded next to you, still covered in your arousal. Oscar smirked to himself once more, removing his fingers from your mouth and picking the toy up. He moved close to your ear, wanting to see this up close as he whispered, “You need more angel? Then here you go.” he tapped the dildo against your lips and you hummed happily, greedily opening your mouth to stuff it full of the silicone toy. “How is it angel hmm? Tasting yourself on that toy?” You gave an enthusiastic moan, smiling even with your mouth full and Oscar found himself staring at you adoringly, never wavering in how his hips pistoned in and out of you. 

He straightened up, allowing you to fuck your own throat with the toy, focusing on gripping your fleshy hips and tummy and fucking into you. He could feel himself sweating and his hair was in his eyes but still he would not stop. He let out a guttaral groan when he realised that you were now bouncing back to meet his thrusts, fucking yourself and humping his cock. His hips stilled for a moment as he let you grind, working for what you were so desperate to have, “There you go… mhmm good fuckin girl that’s it… atta girl.” He praised you as you grew even needier, throwing yourself back with more and more enthusiasm each time. 

“Oscar!” You squealed as a hand snuck down to softly slide over your clit and you froze, thighs shaking from the stimulation, “Easy, angel, I got you…” You stuffed your mouth full of the toy once more and led there, happy to be on the receiving end of his attention and affections. Oscar continued to rub your clit and he smoothly rolled his hips into yours, loving every squeak and whimper and moan and mewl he elicited from you. 

You fought to keep your eyes open as you felt that pressure building and building between your legs. “Oscar…” You pulled off of the toy to warn him you were close, Oscar’s response was to simply lean down over you, practically mounting you as his hips refused to stop, now pounding into you.He grabbed the toy and threw it to one side, smashing his lips to yours in a messy exchange of spit and breath and moans. You whimpered, the slight change in his position causing him to rub against your g-spot with every push and pull thrust. You could feel your body climbing higher and you scrabbled to grab the hand near your head and link his fingers with yours, “Fuck baby!” You cried and Oscar knew the sound immediately, “Cum for me angel, there you go, atta girl…”

He cooed at you as you came hard. Moaning into his mouth and squeezing his hands as your pussy convulsed and fluttered around his cock. Oscar’s head dropped to the pillow next to you as he did his best to hold it together, wanting to fuck you through your orgasm. You giggled as you came down from your high, gasping when his hips circled, keeping his cock deep inside you as he did. You legs gave out and you slid to lay down, Oscar following you down gently as he started to softly rut into you, grinding and circling his hips this time rather than thrusting, he kissed your neck softly before biting lightly, not enough to mark but just enough to feel it there, “Missed you so so much angel,” You gasped, “Yeah?” “Mmm…” He moaned, “Been fuckin torture being away from you…”

You tipped your head to the side to allow him to leave more kisses between words, “Missed your pretty eyes, your soft lips, these gorgeous thighs, your perfect hips, your sweet cunt.” He emphasised the last word with a soft thrust and you smiled, loving how he took care of you but now it was his turn, “Missed you too baby…” Oscar laughed and kissed your cheek, “you did hmm?” “Yeah… missed your freckles and your arms holdin’ me, missed your pretty hands, your head in my lap, missed your hips and missed… oh…” a soft moan cut you off, “Missed what angel?” Oscar rolled his hips particularly deep and you inhaled sharply, “Missed your cock!” 

Oscar tutted at this, “Sure didn’t seem like it baby… you had that toy stuffed in your sweet hole pretty good when I got home…” You whined, “Didn’t feel the same, didn’t feel as good!” You reasoned, Oscar’s hips began to move a little more, beginning that familiar motion of sliding in and out of you. He could feel how you’d not only made a mess on your own thighs but his thighs too, and his hips. “Didn’t feel as good hmm? You certainly seemed to be enjoying it?” “Just missed you too much!” A hand snaked up to gently take hold of your throat, not to choke you but enough to remind you of who was in charge. You panted as his thrusts increased again, “Please Oscar, wanna feel you full me up!”

His eyes closed and his head rested against your shoulder as he heard you begging for his cum, “Need to feel you fill me up, please? Be so fuckin good for you Osc, I promise!” You heard him growl next to your ear, a low sound that had you determined to make this man lose his damn mind. “Yes, just like that baby, please don’t stop please please please!” You kept begging him over and over, knowing you wouldn’t be satisfied until he was spilling out of you, “Please baby, show me just how much you missed me, yes yes yes! Fuck. Make me fuckin take it come on baby… ‘S so fucking good Oscar… only one that can make me feel this good. Mmm fucking love your cock oh my GOD!-” Oscar’s hand tightened round your throat a little as his hips slapped into yours with more need once again, too turned on by your begging to do anything else, “Gonna fill you up angel, “Yes!” You cried out, Oscar felt his balls tighten and his cock throb, “Gonna breed my pretty girl, cum nice and deep inside you hmm? Mark you from the inside shit, FUCK! I love you!” With a loud growl, Oscar’s cock throbbed as he shot ropes of his thick hot cum deep inside you, just rocking back and forth as he made sure to spill every last drop into your greedy cunt. 

He pressed a long kiss to your neck, then your cheek and then the side of your head. 

With Oscar on top of you and having already cum multiple times, you felt all warm and cosy and you couldn’t help the way you immediately felt sleepy, “Welcome home baby…” Oscar chuckled and rolled off of you, pulling you with him to cuddle into his side, “Angel, have you even slept yet?” You yawned as you nodded, “For a couple of hours at least…” You trailed off feeling the exhaustion hit you all at once, “Oh no no no angel, bathroom first, then water, then sleep!” You groaned but Oscar was firm and you knew he was right. He helped you to the bathroom and then went to grab water while you finished up. After falling into bed together you immediately cuddled up to him, he pressed a kiss to the top of your head as you threw you leg over his waist, his hand automatically rubbing your thigh. Things with Oscar always felt so right, so natural, so normal. You gave a contented sigh and Oscar snorted as he spotted the bright orange toy in the corner of the room from where it had gracefully landed after being flung off the bed earlier. You followed his gaze and giggled as he broke into full laughter, “Papaya Y/N? I mean, really?” You shook your head, “It wasn’t me! One of my friends bought it as a joke gift and today was the fist time I…” You trailed off and he squeezed you tightly, understanding what you meant, “We should definitely talk about what was going on between you  and that toy though…” Oscar blushed and you kissed his cheek, “Don’t worry baby, it was hot!” Oscar smiled at you, settling down to fall asleep with you in his arms, “What a welcome home ey?” 

࣪𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃

[starsinthesky5]

in you are in love

can we get a reader meets joes parents for the first time

that's my whole world || joe burrow x reader

description: ask sums it up! a flashback blurb to meeting joe's parents for the first time

a/n: she met his parents in febuary (7 months since the day they started dating). they knew there was a girl in the picture, and he had told them about her on numerous occasions. but they didn't meet until the time was right :)

word count: 3.4k

series: you are in love

warnings: none

───────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────

she was a complete mess. like she genuinely had never been so nervous for something in her life.

joe had been trying to reassure her all week that everything would be okay, but she couldn't help the nerves from twisting in her stomach at the mention of...the dinner. she wanted to believe him, but the voice inside her head told her a different story.

it was a constant tug of war in her mind between the side of her that thought this would be a complete disaster, whispering things like "i'm too much for them," or even, "they're going to hate me and everything i bring with me...all the attention, prying eyes, the drama. they seem so nice and normal, so calm. i can't do this...why did i think i could do this?".

and the side that was bringing ice to the searing anxiety in her chest, whispering, "joe loves you. he chooses you. they will too,".

but god, it was just so hard to believe that when she knew exactly how not normal her life was. she wasn't just any girl meeting her boyfriend's parents for the first time. she was her. the woman whose entire existence and being was scrutinized by the world, whose biggest fails and fatal flaws were aired out like dirty laundry. she brought even more flashing cameras, headlines, rumors, and attention to joe's life, even more than he was already dealing with. that couldn't be appealing to the parents of any child, especially since they knew how much joe had already struggled to balance privacy since he came into the league.

and the burrows? they were so normal. warm, kind, small-town folks who lived a quiet life outside of the football world that engrossed every single one of their weekends since joe could walk. they were the embodiment of home, at least from everything joe had told her--from his mom’s famous snicker salads to his dad’s lengthy football spiels, always delivered from his signature reclining rocking chair whenever joe visited. it was an established routine that joe valued, because it was one of the few constants in his life. no matter how much his world changed--draft nights, contract extensions, playoff games, becoming the designated heartthrob of the NFL--the burrow household remained the same. his parents still sat on the porch in the evenings, still had their favorite local diner they went to every sunday morning for brunch, still called him joey like he was six years old running around in the backyard.

this was one aspect of his life that never changed...that couldn't change.

athens.

his family.

his home.

until she came into the picture.

he made space for her, not only in his heart, not only in his closet, but in his home. physically and metaphorically. he had never done that for a girl before, but he did for her. and that meant something.

even though she knew all that, she still had never felt this much self-doubt in months, but don't get it twisted, this wasn't caused by a person this time (previously, her self-doubt was often implanted within her from those around her). this time, she was just getting in her head, going over every possible scenario where she could embarrass herself or rub them the wrong way.

and joe did everything he could to calm her nerves, to ease her into his family by first introducing her to his brothers and wives (who absolutely adored her). but she was the biggest overthinker he knew, so he knew that it wouldn't be that easy to bring her back from the ledge.

"baby, my parents are going to love you. like immediately. just like i did," he laughed, rubbing his hand along her thigh in an attempt to calm her frayed nerves.

she stayed silent as she watched them pull up to his childhood home. the anxiety boiling under her skin, threatened to explode once she saw the first glimpse of their picture-perfect porch, the porch where joe said his mom and dad would spend hours watching him practice his little peewee throws with his older brothers when he was a kid.

his mom and dad.

his mom...and dad.

his mom.

oh right, this wasn't just meeting his parents. it was meeting robin burrow. joe's mom, his biggest supporter, the woman he adored more than anything in the world. the woman who moved mountains to make sure joe could get to where he needed to be. she had heard firsthand how much respect and love he had for her, how he spoke about her with so much admiration. she knew how close they were, how much her opinion mattered to him.

and that is precisely why this dinner felt like the most important test of her life.

it was honestly funny how nervous she was. i mean, she had met some of the most famous individuals on the planet, sold out stadiums and arenas, but somehow, this felt bigger than all of that. more intimate.

--

the second they stepped inside, everything shifted. the warm scent of home-cooked food lingered in the air, a mix of sweet and savory, and the cozy lighting cast a golden hue over the living room. numerous framed photos decorated the walls--baby joe photos, football related snapshots, family moments frozen in time. you know, the usual.

she had seen a glimpse of his childhood through his stories, but standing here, in the house that built him, made it all so real.

robin was the first to greet them, moving right past her baby boy to first hug the woman who had stolen his precious heart. "finally! we've heard so much about you, sweetheart," she squealed.

her breath hitched while she almost broke a sweat, her smile however, remaining as steady as her feet. (thank years and years of practice for the paparazzi for that). "all good things, i hope," she beamed.

robin chuckled, "oh, only the best," while giving her a warm squeeze. "it's about time we got to meet the woman that got joey to learn the difference between dark and light wash denim,".

jimmy snorted, shaking his head. "and got him to wear something other than sweats in public,".

she laughed at the silly jabs at joe, glancing up at him, whose face was already contorted in playful annoyance. "okay, we’re already starting with this?" he muttered, rolling his eyes.

robin gently let go of her before turning to face her son, "you know we love you joe, but she got you to give up the gray jeans and the sweats? screw being the best thing that happened to you," she smiled, then faced her again, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder, "she's the best thing to happen to us,".

she couldn't even process what was happening because it felt so...easy. easier than she had thought. off the bat, the banter and vibe that had been established for years in the burrow household was engraved into her system. and it literally had only been 5 minutes.

his mom was so...comforting? she just had this vibe about her that immediately calmed her nerves, no matter how loud the voice inside her head was. and you know what's funny? only one person could do that for her.

joe.

now she knows where he got that from ;)

jimmy, joe’s dad, was just as comforting, shaking her hand with a firm grip and an easy grin. "you must have some real patience if you’re dating my son,".

joe groaned, rolling his eyes. "thanks, dad,".

she laughed, already feeling the warmth of their family dynamic, the way they teased but loved fiercely. it was easy. effortless.

and then, suddenly, she wasn’t her. she wasn’t the woman who graced magazine covers, wasn’t the person whose lyrics echoed through sold-out stadiums, wasn’t the figure people screamed for in arenas. she was just joe’s girl, standing in the warmth of his childhood home, being welcomed into his family like she had always been there.

she couldn't even remember why she was so worried in the first place? it's not like they would come out with pitchforks and a lighter incase she said the wrong thing. this was joe's family. the ones who made the person she was so madly in love with, who he was.

--

his parents could see how infatuated he was with her right off the bat. they could tell she was special to him from the way he spoke about her, but actually seeing it was a different story.

joe barely let go of her the entire night too. at dinner, his arm rested along the back of her chair, fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns against her shoulder. every so often, he leaned in to press a kiss to her cheek, murmuring something soft in her ear that made her heart flutter and a giggle to come to her lips. he knew she was nervous, so he made sure to do anything and everything he could to remind her it was okay...and he was right here.

the conversation flowed easily--stories from joe’s childhood, football talk, the occasional embarrassing story from robin that made joe groan.

"mom, seriously?" he complained after she detailed an elaborate story about him dressing up as batman for nearly three years straight as a kid.

jimmy chuckled, shaking his head. "he’d even wear the cape to bed. wouldn’t go anywhere without it,".

she turned to joe, wide-eyed with happiness. "oh, this is gold,".

robin smirked, taking a sip of her drink. "oh, honey, i have plenty more where that came from,".

joe sighed dramatically, slumping against his chair. "i walked right into this,".

she reached under the table, giving his knee a reassuring squeeze. "it’s okay, babe. i still think you’re cool,".

his eyes narrowed playfully as his hand joined hers, fingers entwining under the table. then he have her three squeezes. "i don’t believe you. i just lost so much cred with that,".

joe was even clingier after dinner, practically attached to her as they settled onto the couch. his fingers still laced with hers, thumb brushing softly over her knuckles. every so often, he’d press a lingering kiss to her hair, like he couldn’t help himself.

oh, and then there was that moment--one she’d remember forever--when his parents started playing home videos of joe’s childhood. everyone was huddled around the TV, the warm glow flickering across their faces while joe, ever the gentleman, was finishing up the dishes.

her eyes were glued to the screen, completely transfixed, as if she were watching the most important film of her life. baby joe babbled at the camera, a toy football clutched in his tiny hands, making incoherent little sounds through a drool-covered grin. his dinosaur shirt was stained with whatever snack he’d been munching on, and his chubby cheeks were impossibly round. she felt something deep in her chest tighten at the sight--it was him, the boy who would grow up to become the man she loved.

she was so caught up in the moment, she didn’t even notice when joe snuck up behind her, his arms wrapping securely around her waist. he rested his chin on her shoulder, his breath warm against her skin, watching the screen from her perspective. for him, it was surreal--seeing these memories through her eyes, seeing her watch him at his most innocent, his most unguarded.

soft kisses pressed along her jaw, slow and affectionate, but she didn’t take her eyes off the screen. instead, she shifted one hand up, her fingers trailing over his jaw, nails scratching lightly in that way she knew he loved--a silent i feel you, i love you, i know you’re here.

his parents, however, fully noticed.

they turned to face joe and her, completely in awe of how touchy-feely he was being with her.

jimmy chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. "well, would you look at that," he mused, nudging robin with his elbow. "our boy's turned into a big ol’ sap,".

robin grinned, her eyes twinkling as she took in the sight of her son clinging to his girlfriend like she was the only thing grounding him to earth. "i don’t think i’ve ever seen him like this," she said, her voice laced with warmth.

joe groaned against her shoulder but didn’t make a move to pull away. instead, he tightened his hold on her waist, pressing another soft kiss beneath her ear. "you guys act like i don’t have ears," he muttered, lips brushing against her skin.

she giggled, finally tearing her gaze away from the screen to look at him. "they’re just observing, baby,".

jimmy laughed. "oh, so baby is what we’re calling him now?".

joe shot his dad a deadpan look, but it was hard to look intimidating when he was literally nuzzling into her neck like some love-sick puppy. "you’re both insufferable,".

she laughed, turning her head just enough to kiss the corner of his mouth. "you’re kinda proving their point, joey,".

robin sighed dramatically, placing a hand over her heart. "oh, it’s just so nice to see him like this. all affectionate and soft. i mean, he’s always been sweet, but this? this is new,".

she wasn't wrong. everyone knew how joe was opposed to PDA and being so soft in front of other people. but with her, he didn't give two fucks. and that was beautiful.

"this is disgusting," joe grumbled, though it was completely contradicted by the way he was practically melting into her touch.

"oh, hush," robin scolded, waving a hand at him. "you love it,".

he didn’t argue. he just held her a little closer, completely unbothered by his parents' teasing, because deep down, he knew they were right.

and his parents shot each other knowing glances all throughout the night, their hearts overflowing with happiness and gratitude.

later in the evening, while joe was off showing jimmy something on his phone, robin gently touched her arm, "come help me with refills?".

she followed her into the kitchen, her nerves creeping back in like the first time she stepped on stage, the weight of the spotlight reaching down on her and the unsure hint of adrenaline in her chest. it was also like trying out a new song live for the first time, unsure how the crowd would react, only this time, the crowd was one very important person--joe's mom. but robin didn’t jump into anything serious right away. instead, she moved around the space like she had a hundred times before, topping off drinks, grabbing extra napkins. then, finally, she turned, leaning against the counter with an easy smile.

"i just want to tell you how happy i am that joe has you,".

she blinked, caught off guard. "oh."

robin’s smile softened. "he’s always been focused, always had big dreams that revolved around football. but there’s something different about him with you. i see it in the way he looks at you, the way he talks about you," she reached out, squeezing her hand. "you make him so happy, sweetheart. you make him dream of a future beyond football, and for that, we're forever grateful,".

her chest tightened--not with nerves, but something warmer, something deeper. she swallowed hard. "i love him a lot," she admitted, voice softer than before.

robin nodded, as if she already knew. "and he loves you. that’s all a mom could ever hope for. we were so worried he'd get so caught up in football, miss out on the other aspects of his life like love, a family," she said, reaching out to grab the 'j' initial necklace which sat around her neck. "but then you came around,".

she exhaled a small laugh, shaking her head. "i was really nervous to meet you,".

robin raised an eyebrow. "why? because of who i am? honey, you’re the famous one,".

she shrugged, chewing on her bottom lip. "because of how much joe loves you. how much he looks up to you. i didn’t want to mess this up, you know?".

robin’s expression melted into something even softer, her thumb running over the surface of the pendant. "the only way you could ever mess this up is by not being yourself. but from what i can tell, and mother's intuition is never wrong, you’re perfect for him,".

before she could stop herself, she wrapped robin in a hug, this one even more meaningful than the one at the door. and then, the damn of emotion flew open. "thank you. thank so much you for making him who he is. i don't know what i would do without joe,".

robin's arms tightened around her in response, holding her as if she was already family. "oh, sweetheart, you don't have to thank me for that. joe’s always had a big heart, and he’s always known what he wants--he just needed someone like you to bring out the best in him," her voice cracked slightly, emotion clear in her tone. "he's been so much more himself since you came into his life,". she pulled away slightly, but her hands stayed on her shoulders, a steady presence. "you complete him, and we all see it. no matter who you are, what your life is like, screw the cameras and the attention. you're you. and we all know that. he knows that." robin added, her voice dense with emotion.

one thing echoed deep within her throughout the night--her career was never brought up. her fame, her music, the whirlwind of headlines that followed her everywhere she went. not a single mention. not even a passing comment.

because here, she wasn’t a superstar.

she was just a girl in love, spending time with the people who loved him first.

robin’s lips curled into a smirk, mischief twinkling in her eyes. "but just so you know, if you ever need to gang up on him, i’m always available,".

she blinked, surprised at first, but then a laugh bubbled up from her chest, light and effortless. she wiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater, warmth spreading through her like the glow of the kitchen light above them. "i might take you up on that," she admitted, voice laced with something softer--something that felt like relief.

robin squeezed her hand one last time, a silent reassurance, before stepping back to grab their drinks. and just like that, the last bit of nerves melted away, dissolving into the love that filled the room.

joe found her a few minutes later, his presence known before he even touched her. the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the lingering warmth from the oven, and then, suddenly, his arms were around her, strong and steady. he pulled her into his chest, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to her cheek. "what were you two talking about?{ he murmured against her skin, his voice thick with curiosity.

robin grinned, her gaze flicking between them, and then she smirked. "just how much we love you, joey,".

joe hummed, nuzzling into the crook of her neck like he belonged there. "you better not have been scaring her off, mom,".

robin gasped, placing a hand over her chest in mock offense. "me? never!".

she giggled, leaning further into joe’s embrace, feeling the way his hands instinctively tightened around her waist, as if he needed to anchor himself to her. he had been like this all night--touching her in soft, subtle ways, like he couldn’t quite believe she was here, with him, in the house he grew up in, surrounded by the people who had shaped him.

and then she realized that there was absolutely nothing to be so nervous about, now that she thought about it.

you know why?

because joe chose her. and they saw that. he chose her for a reason. and they knew that. he loved her, and that was everything they had ever wanted for him.

she felt it in the way robin had hugged her like she was already family, in the way jimmy had teased joe about being whipped, in the way they had welcomed her into their home without hesitation, without expectation--just love.

because at the end of the day, it wasn’t about who she was to the world. it wasn’t about the bright lights or the sold-out shows, the cameras flashing or the headlines screaming her name.

it was just about this.

the warmth of joe’s arms around her. robin’s knowing smile. jimmy’s easy laughter. the quiet hum of the house that had built the man she loved.

"it's you and me, that's my whole world,".

joe’s whole world was under this roof.

and somehow, she had become a part of it.

--the end--

[apomaro-mellow]

Steve gets the wrong number and starts texting an interesting guy. Steddie, modern au, no upside down

Steve had been feeling pretty good. He’d gone out, had a nice conversation with a girl at the bar and gotten her number. He didn’t feel sparks but she was nice and cute. They didn’t talk about anything too deep but when Steve had asked for her number she put it in and then left with her friends.

He tried not to be too desperate. But he wanted to let her know he was serious and that he would (eventually) be good boyfriend material. So a little before midnight, he shot a text to her to make sure she was alright.

[11:47] Hey this is Steve just making sure you got home okay 🙂

He had debated on the emoji but figured it was harmless and innocent in the end. He put his phone down and got ready for bed, expecting her to text back after a couple of minutes. Unless she didn’t get home safely. Steve tried not to think about that.

After changing his clothes and brushing his teeth he checked his phone. He lit up when he saw that Misty had replied.

(11:52) Sure did Steve-o (11:53) Thanks for your concern 🫡

Misty texted a little different from the way she talked. A bit more…well he wasn’t sure how to describe it. Misty seemed like a really straight-laced woman. She was in the process of getting her education degree.

Steve shot back another message, saying that he had a good time tonight and he really hoped to see her again. There it was. A clear intention. If she responded positively, he’d ask her out right then. But the reply didn’t come as quick as he wanted. When it got around 12:30, Steve finally called it a night. Misty had probably gone to sleep as well.

-------------------------------------------

[11:47] Hey this is Steve just making sure you got home okay 🙂

Eddie stared at the text he just received. He racked his brain for whoever Steve must be and what he had done all day today, wondering if he met someone but their name just slipped his mind.

But nope. He had spent this lovely Saturday at home, lounging around in his apartment on his day off. He hadn’t gone out. And he hadn’t met anyone named Steve. The message came when he was in the middle of making his near-midnight dinner of mac and cheese. Whoever this guy was, he was clearly checking in on someone.

Eddie looked at his surroundings. Decent place, a bit cramped but big enough for just him and for anyone who needed to crash on his couch. He had popped out earlier to get some cigs and he had in fact made it back safely.

(11:52) Sure did Steve-o (11:53) Thanks for your concern 🫡

And who said he didn’t have impulse control? He thought about it for at least two minutes before sending the message.

[11:55] I had a nice time tonight. Hope to see you again.

Eddie looked at the new text, his chewing slowing to a stop. This Steve guy had met someone, spent some time with them, and was now trying to set up another date. There were a few ways to go about this. For just a moment he considered what a rational person would do, just a moment though.

A rational person might’ve said right away ‘wrong number’ or ‘wires crossed’. But Eddie’s brain didn’t function on rationality. So even though Steve clearly meant to text someone else, Eddie thought of the best way to reply. It did take him a bit to send it, the macaroni was calling to him. But by 1, Eddie had sent something back.

(1:07) You saw me?  (1:09) From my apartment?  (1:10) Creepy

He went to bed, thinking he’d wake up to a very confused man and when morning came he wasn’t disappointed.

[8:13] What are you talking about? It’s Steve? From the bar?

Eddie checked his clock. It was ten in the morning. Who got up at eight on a Sunday? Eddie’s first thought was a church-goer. Those folks were early risers. But they didn’t frequent bars too much.

(10:29) Sorry man (10:30) I think you got the wrong number (10:30) I didn’t go to a bar last night.

Once he sent it, Eddie belatedly hoped the words weren’t too blunt. It couldn’t feel nice, getting a number error. But after a moment of thinking, he started coming around to the idea that maybe Steve wasn’t such a catch. People didn’t give wrong numbers after a good time. Maybe he actually was a creep.

[10:36] Oh. Well, I’m sorry to bother you.

Eddie rolled from his back onto his stomach. Curse his soft heart. He didn’t know anything about this man and somehow he felt sorry for him. But he wasn’t about to go gushing to a stranger. Who knows what kind of interactions Steve had with this mystery number? So instead, he went the typical Eddie route and tried to lighten the mood.

(10:38) Probably dodged a bullet (10:38) They could’ve been a serial killer (10:39) Or worse someone who jogs in the morning

He put that little dig there just to feel out Steve. If he wasn’t at church, maybe he was the kind to go and workout in the morning. In the middle of making his coffee, Eddie realized he was trying to learn about the dude and thought he might be courting danger. Then he heard a ‘ping!’ and any ideas of caution were thrown to the wind.

Leaning against the counter, the only sound was the percolating as he read what Steve had said.

[10:46] Okay confession. I did actually go for a jog this morning. Is that weird?

Eddie started to visualize this man and another alarm went off in his mind that he promptly shooed away.

(10:47) No not weird at all (10:47) It’s perfectly natural for an insane person (10:48) Didn’t you go drinking last night? (10:48) And then you went for a jog this morning? (10:49) You might just be more scary than a murderer (10:50) Scratch that (10:50) This seems like text book serial killer behavior (10:51) Bet this is how you scope out your targets

The coffee finished brewing and Eddie starting pouring it and it was only then he realized the wall he’d sent Steve accusing him of being a killer. It looked like texts from a crazy person. He looked crazy. His friends had complained more than once about him sending these streams of texts instead of keeping it all in one response. Steve was going to see that and leave him on read, or just block his number.

[10:57] Damn guess I better come up with a new tactic.

Eddie didn’t realize how hard he was smiling until he tried to drink and spilled hot coffee on himself. Alarms were ringing in his head again but he might as well be deaf.

Part 2

[covetyou]

stars and stripes

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: nipple play, novelty underwear, balls, anxiety, democracy, the pledge of allegiance, friendly brotherly contest, alcohol, prelude to oral sex (m! receiving) word count: 5k summary: Roles are reversed this Fourth of July when you surprise Joel with a little festive treat of your own.

A/N: happy 4th of July to folks in the US and happy general election day to my fellow UK pals! If you haven't exercised your right to vote yet, and you're registered, you have until 10pm BST tonight to get to your polling station - as long as you're in line by 10pm, you'll be able to vote. do dress up Joel proud, and go do a democracy.

I make absolutely no apologies for anything in this fic. not a single thing. especially not that thing. tis the season. happy ballidays, pals!

follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future fics

As it turned out, Joel knew a guy who knew a guy who could fix your AC, and within two days your house was a safe haven from the burgeoning Texas summer.

Easy as that, apparently. Your desperate attempts to call around HVAC companies the week your AC busted seemed stupid now that it was all a matter of simply knowing a guy.

Not that it was all easy. Letting someone else into your house after everything that had gone on suddenly felt scary, and it took Joel promising you he'd dip from his own job for the afternoon to keep an eye on things for you to feel okay with any of it.

But, even that left an odd feeling in the pit of your stomach.

You'd told him to let himself in, though this time you'd given him a key, and that felt like something. For as many times as he'd broken in, and for as long as you'd left your house open and vulnerable - and, by extension, yourself - handing over your spare keys to Joel for the day felt more vulnerable than you'd ever felt with him wandering your house at unknown hours of the day and night.

It felt like something all over again when you handed them over to him the next week too - there was a jammed drawer he wanted to fix, and he said he could get in to see to it before work one day.

Even when you opened the door to him on the nights he didn't have Sarah - his daughter, you'd learned - it felt like something. Especially knowing that that spare key now sat attached to his own, jingling in his pocket each time he walked into your home, invited.

And the more somethings it felt like, the less you felt like figuring it out.

It continued the same way for weeks. Him moving back and forth the short distance between his home and yours, while you stayed safely cocooned in your own, cool, four walls.

Then, barely one month into this officially unofficial something that you were, it was finally time for you to make that short journey down the street to Joel's.

Being honest, the thought of it had terrified you, and you'd almost backed out multiple times.

Not because it was Joel, or Joel's house - at least, that's what you told yourself - but because a "the whole neighborhood is invited, bring snacks or beer" type of Fourth of July party wasn't the kind of way you'd envisioned your first time in Joel's home. You figured maybe it'd be dinner, or a movie, or a quick fuck against the stairs with Joel's balls trussed up in something. Normal things.

Not loud peopley things.

Still, you readjust your top once more, take the briefest of glances in the mirror, and head out the door anyway, nerves be damned. You can totally handle a Fourth of July BBQ at Joel's house.

You think you can all the way up to Joel's driveway, when the nerves come back with a vengeance and you stand there, feeling sick, listening to the sounds of people and music coming from the backyard.

You try to tell yourself it all makes sense. It's a new place, a place that should mean so much because it's his, but try as you might you can't fight back the panic rising as you think of the very many faces that are going to be in this new place too. Familiar faces, faces you'd seen most days as you went about your life down this street you called home, people you'd shared small talk with and said good morning to almost every day as you left for work.

Then there's this stupid outfit you're wearing. The you from weeks ago chose it the very same day you said yes to Joel's invitation, and the you of today didn't have the energy or inclination to think of anything else. Wear whatever, Joel had said, it's just a casual thing. So, you'd gone for casual.

Braless is casual, right?

Not that that was a specific choice, more a necessity. You'd chucked the third bra on the floor in a huff, cursing your shitty outfit choice and lack of bra to fit it, and instead decided to stick on some nipple pasties and be done with it.

All that's done now, and now here you are, still standing like an idiot in the driveway, closer to Joel's home than you have ever been, psyching yourself up to go inside.

With a deep breath of the dry Texas heat, you head for the open back gate, the soft sound of your shoes on the paving stones so loud in your ears as everything wooshes and fizzes in your head.

It's somehow both better and worse than your expectations.

You're immediately greeted by a sea of recognizable faces, the bottle of wine you forgot you were even holding whisked out of your hand and taken inside before you can even get your first round of hello's in. You don't have much of a chance to be nervous, or self conscious, or any of the things you'd worried about being in the days leading up to being here, because there's just so much of everything around you. Noises, smells, people.

Everything, except for Joel. You've not caught a single look at him since you got here - minutes ago - and you wonder if he's even here and not relaxing back at your place on the couch.

Then you see him. At least, you think it's him. His back is to you, locked into conversation so fierce he hasn't noticed the commotion about your entrance.

You think it's him, but you're also certain you don't know of anyone else who would dress head to toe in red, white, and blue candy stripes. The sight of it makes you forget your own outfit worries as a grin forms on your face, and that familiar rumbling of something in the pit of your stomach comes back all over again.

"Not eyein' the very slightly younger model, are you?" comes a gruff voice that has you twisting rapidly on the spot, the smile barely given chance to fall from your face when you spot the actual, real life Joel standing right there next to you, cold beer in hand.

In your own defence, real life Joel isn't dressed much better than the other Joel stood over the other side of the yard. He's probably dressed worse, actually. He's head to toe in stars, all the way from the novelty headband on his head to the flashing star lights clipped to his shoes. It's gaudy, and camp, and so perfectly Joel that the smile that dipped from your face for all of half a second is back, and you're grinning up at him, that feeling in your belly violently boiling away now that he's right there.

"Oh, him?" you say with a wave of your hand. "Nah. He's like a dollar store version of you."

"Really? I'll be sure to tell Tommy he's Dollar Store Joel from now on. He'll love that. Hey, Tommy!" he calls over the yard, before slipping his free hand behind your back. "C'mon. Let me introduce y'all."

He guides you over, hand never leaving the small of your back, touching you out here in front of all these people as if you are actually officially the kind of something that everyone should know about. And maybe you are.

But then, you're looking into familiar friendly eyes, so similar to the ones you've been staring into and dreaming of since Christmas, and watching this familiar strangers face light up so brightly you briefly wonder if his joy is misplaced until he's wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug.

"Shit, he weren't lying," says Tommy as he rocks on his feet with you in his arms before releasing and looking down at you. "You are real."

Before Joel can land a firm whack to Tommy's shoulder, Tommy's pulling you in for another hug, telling you how nice it is to finally meet you, because he's heard all about you, dropping in a few choice words about his asshole brother here and there as he chatters to you, and Joel, and even himself.

At some point, whether it's during the fourth hug or the eighteenth, you're not sure, Joel slips off to grab you a drink, leaving you with his bizarrely dressed brother.

"Ain't never seen him smile so much without Sarah around," he says, the moment Joel's out of earshot, giving you a nudge and another fond smile. "Y'know, I think he might like you."

"Mm, I think I might like him too."

Small talk with Tommy is easy - the man's a talker, if you ever met one. He's a charmer too, and if you met him in a bar you might think he'd be coming on to you with the way he so attentively talks to you, only directing his attention elsewhere for the briefest of moments.

"What's with the outfits?" you eventually ask, with a flick to his striped top hat. "Joel never said it was a dress up party."

"Oh it ain't, this is just a family tradition. Dad always used to dress up in dumb shit for the holidays, make us laugh, and it just sorta stuck. 'Course, added in some friendly competition over the years too, and then this," he says with a dramatic sweep down his body, "was born."

"Competition?"

"Mhm. Joel'll tell you, won't you brother?" Tommy says with a wink over your head before ducking sideways to raid the snack table.

"What am I s'posed to tell you?" he says, handing you your drink, letting his fingers linger near yours and stroke a trail of burning heat gently up your arm before falling back to his pocket.

"The competition."

"S'easy. Stars or stripes," Joel points to himself, decked out in stars and then to his brother where he stands loudly chatting to yet more guests in his candy stripes. "You gotta pick. Most votes, wins."

"I've got to pick?"

"'s the rules, darlin'."

"So you want me to pick between you, or some costumed guy I don't know - a practical stranger?" you say, with a glint in your eye, watching Joel's face drop in faux offence.

"You wouldn't."

"Don't underestimate me, Joel. I think you know exactly what I'm capable of."

Your eyes meet in a silent stalemate, the glint in your eye never leaving as Joel bites at his cheek to hold back a laugh. Tommy was right - you do like Joel, some days too much, and moments like right now, you think maybe it's reciprocated, and you like him just the right amount.

Poking him in the chest, finger pressed to the middle of one of the sea of stars decorating his body, you let yourself break first. "Stars, Joel. I pick stars."

With a roll of his eyes, and a kiss pressed lightning quick to the side of your head, Joel's hand winds back around your back.

"Thank fuck for that. Let's get you a votin' card so you can make that official."

⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆

As the evening draws on, you think you've talked to just about everyone in your street several times over, and then some. It also turns out that Joel and Tommy take their little competition very seriously, and always have, if your neighbors are to be believed.

By the time the votes have been counted and Joel in his star spangled outfit is declared the winner, Tommy has sunk to his knees, his hat toppled off in his despair as he hangs his head in shame.

You're still listening to them bicker as you sneak off to use the bathroom, their voices only disappearing when you've slid the patio door shut and taken your first official step into Joel's house.

"The headband swung it."

"The headband is Sarah's, and your massive skull is breakin' it..."

Even through the mess of the party, you can see that this place is distinctly Joel, with hints of a 10 year old girl dotted around the place. From the pictures on the wall to the cushions on the sofa - mostly a rich navy, but one soft pink nestled in with the blue - through to small ornamental carvings on a side table and the drawings stuck on the refrigerator.

You're looking at one - not a masterpiece by any means, but very decent attempt at a bluebonnet - when the pressure inside the house changes again with the slide of the door.

It's Joel, arms laden with bottles, and the headband flopping forward pathetically on his head. "You snuck off quick," he says, dumping the bottles onto the counter. "Get lost findin' the bathroom?"

"Distracted. Never had chance to sneak around your house looking at your shit before," you quip with a smile, trying to get comfortable with the very uncomfortable thing that brought you two together in the first place.

"Then shoes off. Lemme take you upstairs, give you a little tour, and you can use the bathroom up there. Probably in a better state than the one down here now anyway."

He holds your hand in his all the way up the stairs. That something rears its head again, igniting your palm where it meets his, your brain not registering a single word he says as he points to various doors before dragging you through one, into his bedroom.

His lips are on yours immediately - or yours are on his. You can't quite work out who started it, you just know that you're a tangle as your hands roam each other, biting and licking kisses into each others mouths. His hand finds your ass, and you're moaning as he presses you forward, into him, and the soft lump in his pants. You want to grind yourself against him, but the angle isn't right, and a nagging forgotten thing is worming through your brain when Joel pushes your bodies together once more.

Oh. Right. You remember now.

"Joel - mmph - Joel," you say with urgency through his kisses. He pulls back, searching your face with panic and a pinched brow. "I really gotta pee."

With a kiss to your forehead he lets you go, pushing you toward his ensuite. When you exit a few minutes later, he's exactly where you left him, stood with his hands in his pockets, looking sheepish as he possibly ever could.

"I'm glad you came," he says, looking at you and setting that something off roaring through your body again.

"Me too. I... I've had a nice time."

"Just wanted you to know I didn't invite you here just for, y'know," he says, with a gesture to his bed. "Didn't bring you in here for it either. Just, sorta missed you. Not used to not bein' alone with you. It's weird sharin' you."

You don't want to remind him you've barely left each others sides all night. You don't want to draw too much attention to the something, just in case you scare it away.

"Damn. Got nothing for me? Nothing at all?" you joke instead.

"Got nothin'. Nothin' planned anyway," he says with a look around the room, his eyes focussing briefly on a drawer before flicking back to you.

Really, you should be leaving space between you and Joel. Space for the something to flourish, space that is just enough to not magnetize your body to his, smashing yourselves together and turning the nothing into something. What you should do doesn't have the power to stop your feet from slowly pulling you toward him again though. And it doesn't stop you from putting both your hands on his chest when you finally reach him.

"No? Got no magic tricks up your sleeve? I was hoping for a wand or a rabbit or somethin', you do look like you ran away from the circus."

"I'll have you know this shirt is the finest polyester you can find at Party City."

"Mm, sounds sweaty."

"Like you wouldn't believe."

"So you're sweaty and gross, and you have nothing to wow me with? I'm starting to wonder why you invited me." Which is a lie. You know why, and so does he, and you're glad for it, even if it still frightens you to think about it too much. You suspect he knows an awful lot more about you than you've told him. He's perceptive like that.

"Maybe I'm retractin' your invite."

"You wouldn't."

"No?"

"What if I've got a little something for you instead, am I still invited now?"

Joel's eyes light up and soften all at once, turning so bright and sparkling you think he might cry. It's not exactly that you've never done anything for him in the ways he has for you. When he mentioned his favorite snack, you got some in the house for nights you spend watching a movie before devolving into fucking on the floor. You bought new lingerie, which only ever stayed on if it was too difficult to get out of, and once or twice he'd caught you wearing the heart shaped butt plug before leaping on you and pounding you into whatever surface was nearest, thumb pressing down on the base and making you see stars.

Still, for all you had done, you never swapped positions in the little game you'd been playing with each other for over seven months. Each time, he was the one who came to you with some silly thing or trick or toy to tease you with, and each time you loved it. You hoped he would love this too.

"You do?"

"Mhm," you say as you put some distance between the two of you again. Space to breath, space to move, space to let the something calm back down into the pit of your stomach and curl in on itself like a cat settling down to sleep.

Your let your fingers glide up your body, gently pulling your skirt for a moment before they coast up your belly and reach your shirt, flirting with the hem before curling around it and tugging, letting your tits jiggle behind the fabric.

With a final soft tug, you peel the fabric up your body, the swell of your breasts spilling out the bottom of your top.

"Holy shit, baby," he says, a whisper of a moan on his lips. His eyes have been glued to you, wide and curious, ever since you suggested you may have something for him. And now, they're darting from your chest to your face then back down, taking in the sight of your covered nipples.

You had made some choices earlier today, in your nervous state. Going braless was only one of them. The pasties too, were another. And then, there was the shape. You has flowers, hearts, circles, straight tape and, finally, stars. It was a no brainer when you'd rifled through the packet for two that matched that white stars were the perfect choice for today. It'd only really occured to you when Joel had worn his own stars, that you were perhaps better matched today than you thought, that maybe you could have your own little game with him for once.

"Told you I was all in on the stars."

"Damn right you are," he says as he approaches, his hands finding their place on your waist, itching to move upward. "They don't hurt?"

"They're just pasties, Joel. They're soft. Feel."

And fuck, does he feel. His hands cup you, gently squeezing the softest part of your breast before letting his thumbs dance across where the pucker of your nipple should be. The sensation is muted, infuriatingly muffled by the feel of the pasties covering you.

"S'good?"

"Imagine I stroked your dick over your pants. It's good but it's not the same."

"Damn," he curses, thumbs still gently rubbing over your nipples, watching them slowly come to life and prickling beneath the coverings. "They come off easy?"

"Like a bandaid."

"Shit."

And you just know what he's thinking, because you're thinking it too. There's no real way you can take them off right now and let Joel have his way with your nipples like you're both desperate for, even if time and the swathe of people downstairs wasn't an issue. You have nothing else to cover up with and the soft breeze combined with the cold drinks and the age of some of the guests here means it's probably not a good idea to go without them.

That doesn't stop Joel from kissing you again though, more restrained than he has any right to be with your tits in his hands. You know from his frustrated groan when you bite at his bottom lip that he's two seconds away from telling everyone the parties over, only to come back up here and continue with a party for just two.

To your surprises, he pulls your top back down. Not before kissing one breast, then the other, then back to the first. You know he wants to sink his face into them, but he doesn't let himself, and he rises from his crouch with a groan and pulls you out of the room.

"Don't show Tommy," Joel whispers to you as you make your way back down the stairs. "He'll say the contest was rigged."

"Damn, I was so hoping to show your brother my nipples."

⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆

Joel's eyes keep flicking to your chest for the rest of the night. More than once he drags you away inside, either upstairs or into the garage, just to ask you to show him one more time. If you weren't covered, your nipples would have been rubbed and pinched raw by his eager fingers by now, just as your lips were swollen by his eager mouth.

By the time it's all over, you're positively exhausted, propping yourself up on the arm of a chair and talking to Tommy as Joel waves off the last of the guests and closes the back gate.

You had barely left his side all night, and if anyone had anything to say about it, you hadn't heard it. Neither had Joel. And Tommy, a clever man when he wanted to be, hadn't made a single joke about it either. All in all, it was as much of a successful day than you could hope for, initial nerves aside.

Tommy, continuing to be a clever man, doesn't put up much of a fight when you offer to be the one to stay behind and help clear up. Of course, he's already gone around and collected most of the trash, and put the leftover food inside, but he relents at your insistence he head home - you do only live down the street after all.

Neither you or Joel get much further with the cleaning. Once trash bags are dumped in the garage and you've both washed up, his hands are back under your top, damp fingers cupping your breasts and pulling you back into him.

"Stay?" he asks, as if there was any other ending to this night, as if Tommy hadn't left precisely for this reason.

You barely agree by the time his mouth is latched onto your neck, drawing unrestrained moans out of you right there in the kitchen now that you're finally alone.

His hands, of course, find their way back up to your top, stroking over the edge of the pasties once more.

"You really like 'em, huh?" you ask as his thumb brushes the edge of one, starting to curl and pull the point of one of the stars.

"Like that we match. Feel like you picked 'em for me," he mumbles into your neck, releasing one breast and tucking his hand into the waistband of your skirt. "Like that I've had somethin' to think about, somethin' to play with, even with all these people here."

Fuck, if you haven't liked that too. Letting him play had been one of the highlights of your night so far. Being manhandled into the garage, giggling and pushing Joel as he clasped his hands together in a plea to please see your tits. The souvenir love bite you'd let him suck into your left breast after dragging you back upstairs for a second time. You'd spent half the night flipping between Joels hands and mouth on your tits, to being dragged back out to socialize. Your pussy had given up trying to regulate itself after the third session of Joel's teasing, and you'd spent the rest of the evening wet and waiting.

This is a fact he finds out now, as he slides his hand down over your mound to cup you over your panties. You both let out the same curse as he presses and wiggles his fingers back and forth over you, rubbing your clit over your underwear. You had hoped to peel the pasties off before you fucked him, giving him full access to your nipples for the first time tonight, but you don't think you're going to make it that far, not now his hand is pulling your panties aside, feeling for the slick wetness between your lips and dragging it up, up, up to swirl around your clit.

Not a second later you're scaling the stairs for what you know will be the final time that day, this time you dragging Joel as you both kick of your shoes and stumble up the steps. You already ache from all the standing, and if you have it your way, your legs are going to be shaking and trembling too much for the rest of the night to possibly be of use to you.

With his door pushed open, left wide now the house is empty, you pull yourself back into him, only for him to slip his still wet finger between your lips, letting you taste yourself before he captures your mouth, licking your taste from your own tongue.

Then, your hands find his chest, that ridiculous shirt, and pull at it, tugging the fabric taught to his body, eager to get it off and tumble into his sheets with him.

You were right about how sweaty he'd be under the shirt when you finally get your fingers on the buttons, working your way down until you can pull it off. He's shining underneath it, the dark hair of his body slicked down as you drag your hands up over his chest, to his shoulders and then down to his belt.

He suddenly stops you, pulling your hands away, pressing kiss after kiss to your mouth as he fumbles with the buckle. In a huff, after a few failed, distracted, attempts, he pushes you away and pulls off his belt before unzipping his pants.

Joel has barely tugged them down his legs when you're staring wide eyed, howling with laughter, staring directly at his cock. Only, this time, it stares back.

At least, the bald eagle on the front of his boxers does.

"What are those?"

"Nothin'," Joel says, covering himself and trying to tug his boxers over his erection with one hand still trying to pull off his pants. Grabbing his hands, you stop him, pleading as you tug them away from his crotch.

"Show me."

"Look, s'nothin. Just another stupid thing Tommy got me and I thought it'd be funny but..."

"Sure looks like you got somethin' there for me. All this time you were sayin nothin'. Don't tell me you're getting shy on me now. C'mon. Please."

You pout, trying desperately to get him to give in when you have an idea and you're tugging your top off over your head and throwing it to the side, brandishing your star covered nipples to him once more.

"Pretty please," you say with a small shimmy, and Joel's hand immediately falls away, coming up instead to cover his eyes with a sigh.

It's a sight to behold. Really, it is. The eagle is staring back at you once again, still bolstered by Joel's solid length and the heft of his balls behind it. What you hadn't noticed before is it's sitting on a canvas of United States flag, stars and stripes covering his thighs, his hips, his ass.

"Oh wow. Joel those are -" you cough out a laugh "- those are amazing."

He's rolling his eyes. You can hear it in his voice and see it in his posture. "Yeah, real funny, I know."

"No, I like them. Very festive. And y'know what," you say, cupping his cock right over the eagle print of his boxers as you clear your throat. "I pledge allegiance -"

"No, don't you d-"

"- to these balls -"

"Stop."

"- and the cock they sit under -"

"Oh my god," he says, fighting through a laugh, your fingers squeezing and massaging as you pledge yourself, whole heartedly, to the appendage in your hand.

" - one - uh, cock and balls? Is there even a collective word for cock and balls? - under Joel -"

"It's just gettin' worse."

"- definitely indivisible, no divisible balls here - "

"You're killin' me."

"- say it with me now - with liberty and justice for balls."

You try to keep a straight face as you finish. Really you do. But as Joel's whole body shakes and ripples, his balls jiggling in your hand as laughter wracks through him, you can't help but fall into him, letting yourself be propped up by him as you crumple in on yourself in delight.

"You callin' my balls Liberty and Justice now?" Joel finally says through a laugh.

You slide a finger up the leg of his boxers, pulling gently on them as you stare down at the flag adorning his ass and balls.

"Yep. You're Star Spangled Joel with your side kicks, Liberty and Justice."

You give his balls a little squeeze again as you name them.

"Now that you pledged your allegiance, you gonna keep yappin' or you gonna prove it?"

But it's too late, because you're already sinking to your knees, right there in his bedroom, a place you both know you're going to wake up in the morning, wrapped in each other as the sunlight peeks through the curtains.

"Just try to stop me."

next part

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@youandmeand5bucks-blog @bbyanarchist @vickywallace @kamcrazy123

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@stevie75 @toxicanonymity @thesevi0lentdelights @sp00kymulderr @joelsdagger

[cece693]

That fic you wrote about Steve and Buck and the reader drafted for war? How dare you, my heart shattered and now I gotta sweep the pieces up. (I mean this in the best way possible) your writing is absolutely incredible. Keep it up I can’t wait to see what you do next and I’d love to see more of Steve/bucky or just Steve/just bucky.

Awww, thank you so much! I loved how the fic came out and am surprised to see others also liking it. I do have some ideas on how to make it more angsty but for now, I want to include the reader just sending letters to his boys and making them worried sick for his wellbeing. Enjoy!

Promise to Return Pt. 2

Time had a funny way of dragging on in the months after you left. Steve and Bucky both felt it—even when the sun was shining or the city was bustling, there was a hollowness that settled in the space you once filled. It started with little things: Bucky snapping at Steve for something trivial—like leaving the window open or tapping his foot constantly—and Steve responding in a sharp tone. Neither wanted to talk about why they were really frustrated; neither wanted to voice the truth that haunted them: You were gone, in harm’s way, and they could do nothing about it.

The day your first letter arrived, it felt like a jolt of electricity through the tired hush of the apartment. They tore it open together, nearly tripping over each other in their haste. The scrawl inside was messy, words cramped like you’d had to fit every sentence onto a tiny scrap of paper:

Dear Steve and Bucky, I’ve only been gone a short while, but it feels like years. Some nights, I lay awake in the thin canvas tent we’re calling home, and all I can think of is the warmth of your arms. I’d give anything to feel you beside me, even if only for a moment. Life here is a blur of training drills, endless marching, and the constant dirt that clings to everything—my uniform, my boots, my skin. But I’m okay. Sometimes I can almost hear you, Buck, telling me to keep my chin up the way you always do. And Stevie, I picture that soft smile of yours and the determination in your eyes. It gives me courage. We haven’t seen combat yet, but word is we’ll be moving closer to the front soon. I try not to think about the danger. Instead, I think of home—of you two, and how you always fought over who got to hold me first. (I hope you’re still not fighting too much, but if you are, at least kiss and make up afterward, all right?) I miss you both more than I thought possible. Write me back. Tell me everything—tell me how Brooklyn’s holding up, how my folks are doing, and most of all, how you’re doing. Stay safe. I love you, always.

They read it three times over. By the time they finished, tears stained both of their cheeks. They quickly pulled out a pen, set on informing you about what's been happening in town, how your parents are handling things and how much they missed you. They tried to make it sound comforting, hopeful, full of love. Because that was the part of them that still worked—the love. The arguments were brutal, but then another letter would arrive and everything would return to normal—as if you were the glue holding their love from crumbling to dust.

My Steve and Bucky, It’s been a rough few weeks. I don’t want to worry you too much, but I’d rather be honest. The mud is up to our ankles, constant rain drenching us to the bone. The nights are long and cold. I’ve been pushing through, though. Some days, I can’t get the memory of home out of my head—the smell of fresh-baked bread from the bakery near the apartment, the warmth of your arms around me when you’d both squeeze in close at night. We had a scare yesterday—enemy planes overhead. The bombs fell close, rattling our nerves. But I got lucky, walked away with just a few scrapes. I keep telling myself, “If I can make it through one more day, I’ll be one day closer to home.” If you’re fighting, promise me you’ll make up by the time I get back. I’m counting on the two of you to be in one piece—physically and emotionally—when I step off that train. I want to come home to the two men I love, not a cold apartment full of bitterness. I love you both, deeply. Write soon—hearing from you gives me a kind of strength nothing else can. —Yours (always)

They clutched that page, tears trailing down their cheeks. Steve rested his head against Bucky’s shoulder, and for once, Bucky let him. They stayed that way for a while, breathing in tandem, wishing you weren’t so far away.

It wasn’t until months had passed that Bucky and Steve realized, with sinking dread, that your most recent letter had in fact been your final one. At first, neither of them wanted to believe it. It had arrived, tattered at the edges and water-stained from its journey across war-torn oceans, but it had arrived, and so they assumed more would follow. They devoured your words over and over, clinging to the affection you poured onto the page:

My Brooklyn Boys, I’m all right, but things are worse than ever. We’ve moved positions so many times I can’t keep track of addresses. This might be my last chance to write for a while—our lines are closing in on the enemy, and rumor says we’ll be engaged in heavy fighting soon. I won’t lie to you: I’m scared. I’ve seen good men go down this week. Men I shared cigarettes with and talked about what was awaiting us back home. It’s hard to see that and not wonder if I’m next. But I made a promise to come back. I hold onto that promise for dear life, the promise of seeing your faces again, feeling your arms around me. Maybe that’s naïve. But hope is all we have sometimes. Please forgive me if the letters stop for a bit. I’ll try to keep them coming, but I can’t control what happens here. Just know that, no matter what happens, I love you both with everything I have and am. I think about you constantly. Be safe, and be strong for each other.

When your final letter first arrived, neither Bucky nor Steve panicked. You’d warned them: “Forgive me if the letters stop for a bit,” and they assumed it would be a short break—maybe a week or two before you found another chance to put pen to paper. After all, you’d been late before, but never by more than a month. Two months, at most.

But five entire months dragged by. Five months of an empty mailbox. Five months of carefully folded hopes, clutched tight each morning and slowly unraveling each night.

They reread that last note so often its edges grew soft, the folds worn from constant handling. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, Steve would wake to find Bucky asleep in the armchair, your letter clutched in his hand as if he’d drifted off tracing the curve of your words. Other times, Bucky would come home to find Steve hunched over the kitchen table, silent tears slipping onto the paper. No matter how many times they scoured each line, the reality never changed: you were gone, and they had no clue where you were, or if you were even alive.

Bucky was the first to snap under the weight of uncertainty. He’d been restless for weeks, ducking out late in the evenings, returning with a haunted look in his eyes. One night, as Steve sat hunched at the dinner table, rereading your last note for what felt like the thousandth time, Bucky slammed the door behind him.

“I just enlisted.”

For a moment, the words didn’t compute. Steve blinked, setting the letter aside. “You—what?”

“I went to the recruiter’s office,” Bucky repeated, his voice trembling with anger and fear all at once. “I signed the papers, Steve. I’m shipping out as soon as they process me.”

Steve shot to his feet, nearly knocking over his chair. “What the hell, Buck?” he demanded. “We talked about this! We were waiting—for news, for a letter—”

Bucky’s fists clenched. “That’s the thing, Stevie. There isn’t any news. Not for five months! It’s been radio silence out there. God only knows what’s happened—I can’t just sit here hoping a letter might show up tomorrow.”

“You think I like sitting here, not knowing if he’s alive or not?” Steve’s voice cracked, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. “But enlisting— that’s not how we were supposed to handle this. You remember what he wrote. He wanted us to be safe!”

Bucky let out a mirthless laugh. “Safe? While he might be—” His words choked off, as if he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

“So your solution is to go get yourself killed, too!?”

The argument escalated quickly—voices echoed off the walls, rehashing every fear they’d kept bottled up. “Why didn't you talk to me first?" Steve sought. “We could’ve come up with something else! We’re supposed to be a team.”

“I am talking to you, right now,” Bucky shot back, though guilt was already gnawing at him. “I just—I couldn’t wait any longer. If you’d seen your own face these past months…you’re wasting away, Stevie. We both are.”

“That’s why we have to stick together!” Steve insisted, tears finally slipping. “He’d want us looking out for each other. Not running off alone.” He stared at Bucky, betrayal written all over his face. “So, that’s it? You’re leaving, and I’m just—what, supposed to watch you go?”

“I don’t want to leave you,” Bucky admitted, throat working as he swallowed back tears. “But I don’t see another option. If the recruiters won’t take you, you’ll be stuck here anyway. At least this way, one of us is in the field. I can look for him, find out something.”

“That’s not good enough,” Steve murmured, voice thick with sorrow. “I can’t lose you too.”

Bucky’s eyes hardened at those words. He heard what Steve said, but all he could feel was anger coiling in his chest. It wasn’t just rage at the war or at your disappearance—it was anger at Steve, for voicing the unthinkable. “Lose me?” he echoed, fists clenching at his sides. “So you’ve already made up your mind that we lost him? That he’s…gone?”

“Don’t twist my words.”

“You’re the one acting like he’s dead!” Bucky barked, voice raw. His breath came shallow and ragged, as if each inhale cut him like glass.

“That’s not what I said,” Steve protested, but his shaky tone betrayed the fear he tried so hard to hide.

Bucky stepped closer, the tension between them bristling. “Then why are you telling me you ‘can’t lose me too’? Huh?” His voice wavered on the last word, hands trembling as he fought the urge to punch something—anything to escape this horrible feeling in his chest. “I’m not dying, Steve. I’m fighting to find him. Because I still believe he’s alive—why can’t you?”

“I do believe,” Steve said, voice trembling. “But it’s been five months since his last letter, Buck.”

“And that means we give up?” Bucky’s tone was half-accusation, half-plea. The weight of those months of silence crashed down on him, but he refused to accept it. His eyes burned. “You think I don’t feel that ache every day? I wake up and wonder if today’s the day we find out…something. But I won’t let it be the day we give up hope.”

Steve looked away, a harsh sob caught in his throat. “We’re not giving up. But we have to face facts. You’re running off to sign up for a war you might not come back from. What if—what if he never…”

Bucky flinched as though struck. “Don’t,” he hissed, voice frayed. “Stop saying ‘never.’ He’s out there somewhere—maybe buried in the thick of it, pinned down, unable to write. Maybe—” His words broke into a choked whisper. “Maybe he’s just trying to survive.”

Steve tried to speak, but emotion knotted his throat, and no sound came out. He watched as Bucky turned on his heel and stormed toward the door, tension radiating off him like a storm about to break. “Buck, please,” Steve managed at last, almost stumbling after him. “Don’t—Where are you going?”

Bucky paused with his hand on the doorknob, shoulders heaving. He half-turned, giving Steve a wounded stare. “I need space because sitting here in this apartment for another second without answers is killing me. If you won't stand by me—" He swallowed hard. “Maybe you never really believed in him coming back at all.”

“That’s not fair,” Steve croaked, but Bucky was already out the door, slamming it behind him with a resounding crack that seemed to echo through the empty rooms.

For a long moment, Steve simply stared, heart hammering in his chest. Then reality hit him like a punch to the gut, and he crumpled to his knees right there in the entrance hall. A ragged sob tore from his throat, shaking his entire body.

He pressed his hands to his face, unable to stop the torrent of tears. All he could see was the half-faded memory of you—your warm smile, the way you used to loop an arm around his shoulders or tug Bucky into a playful headlock. All he could hear was Bucky’s agonized accusation: Maybe you never really believed in him coming back at all.

“It’s not true,” Steve whispered to the empty air, voice cracking. “I swear it’s not.” But there was no one around to hear him. Nothing but the echo of silence, and the ghost of your promise that you’d find your way home—somehow.

[yvesdoee]

content 𐙚 : when you and babygumi bring a stray into the house ( part two ) 🐈‍⬛ pt. 1

warnings 𐙚 : just fluff. dad!toji, wife!reader, megumi is your biological son. no proofread bc i’m really sleepy. wc : 745

okay, so we all agree that toji would be 100% the kind of dad who “doesn’t want any cats in this house”, but ends up being the most loving cat dad ever?

you knocked softly on the door, hearing a “come in” from the other side. you opened it, stepping into megumi’s room. little boy was already tucked into bed, his favorite stuffed bunny in his arms, the dim light casting a warm glow around the room.

“mommy, why doesn’t mr.cat like me?” megumi’s small, sad voice made your heart ache. you immediately softened, moving to sit on the edge of his bed.

you let out a quiet chuckle, taking his small hand in yours, gently stroking the back of his palm with your thumb. “megs, he loves you. after all, you’re the one who noticed him on the street and brought him home.” you smiled reassuringly.

megumi’s little brows furrowed. “but when i try to pet him, he walks away from me! and he won’t sleep on my bed. he loves dad more.” his voice was full of hurt, his small shoulders sagging with disappointment.

“sweetie, not all kittens are affectionate, it doesn't mean he doesn't love you. he just shows his love in a different way.”

that answer seemed to satisfy megumi, though he was still upset.

you opened the book you had brought with you—a collection of Japanese folk tales—and began to read. the story of momotaro, the boy born from a peach who grew up to defeat ogres, was always a favorite.

when you finished, you closed the book with a soft thud, the silence in the room settling in.

“was i born in a peach too?” he asked suddenly.

you giggled at his innocent question. “no, you weren’t born in a peach. you grew in my belly before you were born.”

megumi blinked up at you, looking as if he were trying to process the idea before simply nodding, satisfied with the explanation. he yawned, his small eyes closing slowly, drifting toward sleep.

you stood up from the bed quietly, smoothing the blankets around him as you whispered, “good night, megumi.”

you left his room quietly, heading toward the living room. toji was sprawled out on the couch, already asleep, his broad frame looking utterly relaxed. his hand rested on his jaw, and the tiny ball of fur curled up on his chest—mr.cat—was snuggled up close to him. you couldn’t help but smile softly at the sight.

you knew the story well. toji had been vehemently against bringing a cat into the house when you first suggested it. he’d grumbled about the mess, the hassle, the hair—everything. but now… now it was clear that he and mr.cat had become inseparable. the kitten had claimed toji as his own, following him around the house like a shadow, napping on his chest, and curling up next to him every chance he got. the bond was undeniable, and it was obvious that toji had softened, his gruff demeanor melting whenever the cat was around.

you walked over to the couch, gently patting his shoulder. toji stirred, mumbling something as he slowly opened his eyes. when he saw you, his lips curved into a sleepy smile.

“hey, ma.” he murmured hoarsely, blinking up at you.

“let’s go to bed, toji. you can’t sleep on the couch.”

with a small groan he got up from the couch, the cat woke up too, following you into the bedroom. mr.cat trotted along right behind you both, almost like a little guard dog, sticking close to toji.

“you guys seem to get along well.” you chuckled.

“i don’t like him. little guy just happened to follow me.”

you couldn’t help but giggle at his words. “uh-huh, sure. whatever you say.” you shot him a teasing smile as you both climbed into bed.

the cat followed toji, as always, jumping up onto the bed and settling down at the edge, right next to toji’s feet.

toji grunted, pulling the covers up around both of you, before wrapping his arms around you.

“good night, ma.” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear.

“good night, love.” you whispered back.

just before you closed your eyes, you could hear the soft purring of cat from the edge of the bed. he had finally claimed his spot—right next to his favorite person. toji’s arm tightened around you as you both drifted to sleep, a warm, peaceful night settling over your little family.

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

@steddie-spooktober day 17: hayride | T | wc: 1,306

tags: strangers to lovers, confident eddie munson, farmhand eddie munson, pickup lines, getting together

“Alright folks, watch your step getting off– lemme help you down, ma’am, there you go–last ride of the night! Who’s gettin’ on?” 

The man finishes off his speech and looks around at the designated ride loading area, “Just you then sir?”

Steve casts a look around for the man the driver (in an extremely well-fitting cowboy getup and dark leather hat too) must be talking to, ready to hold up his own hand to indicate to Hot Cowboy that the other man is not, in fact, alone for the ride.

But there’s no other man.

Steve is the ‘Sir’ in question.

Oh god.

“Oh god,” Steve echoes aloud, “I didn’t realize I was the only one, please, no need to bother with a last ride, I’m sure you want to get home too.”

Hot Cowboy looks down at him from the driver’s seat (does the bench of a hay cart have a driver’s seat?), then around at the lack of other people.

“Would you like a ride?”

Surely he didn’t mean it that way, but Steve’s cheeks flush a bit nonetheless, “Well I do, but—”

“Then hop aboard, stranger, only a bit of sun left in the day.”

Steve suddenly can’t tell if the accent is just for show or not.

“No, really, I’ll come back another day,” he says, backing away, “I just wanted to go today since it’s my birth– nevermind, I’m not going to hold you up for just me.”

“How ‘bout this, you get on, and I’ll drive us and the lovebirds here to the barn.” he says, gesturing to the two horses hitched to the cart, an all black, and a sandy sort of brown one. “Short, sweet, everyone gets what they want.”

Steve blinks, “That’s uh.. Yeah. Okay.”

Hot Cowboy grins at him, happy where Steve thought there’d be annoyance. “Great! C’mon in then, the hay’s great!”

“You sure? I think it’s gonna be pokey and itchy.” Steve jokes nervously, climbing the stationary steps up to the cart.

This orchard’s hay rides are a bit different than others Steve’s been to in his life; there were no bales of hay, just a large (slightly trodden now) pile of hay in the back of an ancient-looking cart.

“Promise. Now lay back and get comfy big boy, we got a bit of a ride to the barn.”

Steve did as he was told, all the while Hot Cowboy watched him carefully step into the cart.

Once he was in and settled back so he was reclined against the pile of hay, facing back off the open end of the cart, Hot Cowboy clicked his tongue, snapped the reins, and they were off.

Almost immediately the soft rocking and teetering of the cart lulled him calmer. The wear the day had taken on him, extra annoying since it was piled on when he’d been trying to take a half day for his birthday, seeping deeper into his bones with every squeak of a wheel.

There was a shift of clothes, then: “Long day, huh?”

“Hm?” Steve opened his eyes again, not really knowing when he’d closed them in the first place, “Oh, yeah.. lots piled onto me unexpectedly.” He shrugged, not knowing if Hot Cowboy was even still looking back at him to see, “It happens.”

The other man hummed an agreement, and for a while, It was quiet. Steve stared drowsily up at the ever-purpling sky above him, cut over every now and again by the thin bare branches of the trees on either side of their path, and counted the stars as they appeared.

Every once in a while, Hot Cowboy would let out a short, low whistle, or a hushed, “Hey!”, or “Quit nipping at him, Sandy!” to the horses.

After a whole, surprisingly bright, thirteen stars made their appearance, Hot Cowboy again spoke to him. “So, no other plans for your birthday than to come hang out with lil’ ol’ me?”

Steve tipped his head backward and half into the pile of hay to look upside down at the back of the other man. And only now realizing he had a long, dark braid tied out under the back of his hat.

”How’d you know it was my birthday?”

”You started to say so earlier,” he says, glancing back at Steve with a smile. He looks back to the path, “No wife or girlfriend to spend it with?”

Smooth. Steve thinks, smiling to himself, then says “My best friend and I are doing Late Birthday when she comes back from a work trip in a couple days, but other than that, you’re it, partner.”

Hot Cowboy snorts a laugh at Steve’s admittedly very bad accent, then, just to tease the cowpoke, Steve says, “And no boyfriend either.”

Another snort, “Good to know, sweetheart.”

They lapse into silence again, and next thing he knows, someone is nudging his shoulder.

Steve snaps upright, jackknifing his butt deeper into the hay under him. It’s much darker now, and as his eyes adjust, he realizes they’re in the barn already.

"Hey, whoa, sorry to wake you.” He looks over to the voice, Hot Cowboy is looking at him concerned. His hat gone, his hair loose now, “You okay?”

“Yeah.. yeah, sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep like that.” Steve says, rubbing his eyes then instinctively running his fingers through his hair for any stray strands of straw.

”No worries sweetheart,” The accent was for show after all, it seems, since it was gone enough to be noticeable when he continues on to say “D’ya need a hand?”

“Oh, yeah, thanks.” Steve reaches for his hand, off to the side of the cart, which Hot cowboy grabs and uses as leverage to swing a leg over the side and straddle the low wall.

For some unknown reason, that’s the thing that Did It for Steve.

The smoothness of the motion, the tight squeak of the denim as he sits and his leg stretches beneath the fabric, the solid clump the heel of his boot makes when it makes contact with the cart bed…. no matter which it was, his sudden desire for this dusty, probably sweaty, stranger gets the better of him and Steve hauls Hot Cowboy toward him instead. He lands on Steve with an “Oomph!” and a quickly brightening face only a hair's breadth away from his.

“Care to go for a roll in the hay?” Steve asks in a low tone, nudging Hot Cowboy’s nose gently with his own.

Two seconds pass, each one seeming to take only a fraction of itself and an eon to pass before Steve is trying his damndest to squirm away, apologizing profusely as he does.

”Oh my god, oh my god! I am so so sorry, holy shit, I don’t know what came over me I—“

Hot Cowboy’s fingers press against his lips, cutting off the flow of apologies.

”Let me process for a moment, Jesus H. Christ.” Another four of five eons pass, the other man’s face slowly draining of it’s excess color before: “As much as I want to say yes, and believe me, I want, I’d rather not traumatize my Uncle’s horses..”

Oh my god this is his farm. His Uncle’s farm. Fresh hot embarrassment floods into Steve’s face and gullet.

Hot Cowboy notices the change and smiles, “How ’bout this big boy, you tell me your name, I tell you mine, then we find convenient excuses to make out all the way back to your car. Sound like a plan?”

Steve nods vigorously and Hot Cowboy removes his fingers. ”I’m Steve.” he blurts as soon as they’ve gone.

Hot Cowboy grins lopsidedly at him, putting the accent on again to say, “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Stevie. The name’s Eddie, but you can call me the man of your dreams.”

like almost always, graphics are from @saradika-graphics!

[only-lonely-star]

Could you do a clingy Johnny Cade x female reader? Tysm <3

Just One More? 🌌

Warnings: None.

Summary: He won’t let you go just yet… 💤

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for the request!! I have another WIP for a Johnny request, so I apologize if this feels a bit dull. The other request was similar. I hope you all enjoy, this is a cute one :) <3

Word Count: 1.3k.

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After a long day spent with your boyfriend, Johnny, the two of you headed home under the moonlit sky. He held your hand tightly, swinging it back and forth at an easy tempo while listening to your every word. The quiet ambiance of the night had wound the both of you down, creating a safe environment of quietness. The faint sound of crickets, slow breezes, and leaves crunching underneath your shoes were oddly soothing.

Johnny had his other hand stuffed away in the pocket of the raggedy denim jacket which he carried everywhere with him. It was his duty to walk you home safely before heading to his own place for the night. He looked at you with a gentle smile, “I had a lot of fun… spent just about the whole day together, didn’t we?”

That familiar smile of his brought a bubbly feeling between you two. His cheeks rose up faintly, a sheepish glint in his eye. He made your heart skip a beat without even trying. “Yeah. It’s too bad you couldn’t stay over, I just don’t think my folks would like that.”

Of course, they wouldn’t. Dating the boy was already something you had begged for, but having him over for a night would send them into a coma!

“It’s okay, it ain’t like I could kiss you in my sleep anyway,” he shrugged. Johnny looked down to the sidewalk as he meekly kicked a pebble.

Unaware of his flirtatious comment, he seemed startled when you nudged his shoulder harshly. He looked at you with wide, amused eyes as you spoke. “You’re a tease, you know that? If it were up to me I’d let you stay over every night. That way you wouldn’t have to stay at that hellhole of a place you got.” Johnny fell silent, swallowing hard. The topic change had his stomach in knots. You noticed it immediately, quickly rushing to his aid as you pecked his cheek.

Johnny turned red, rewarding you with a smile. He shook his head softly. “Okay- alright- I don’t want my goodbye kiss yet,” he grinned.

Johnny had been down this road more times than he could count. Each day he spent with you he made sure he walked you home in good condition, safe and sound. It became a ‘tradition’ after some time that he stood on your porch for a farewell kiss.

You could feel how Johnny had subtly slowed his pace as he neared the dip in the sidewalk, indicating you had arrived. The rusted gate surrounding your lawn was already cracked open, the wind blowing it open slightly as if it were beckoning you inside. Johnny paused, letting you in first. He reluctantly sauntered his way up the stairs as he kept a lingering hand on the small of your back. He sighed exaggeratedly to convey his frustration now that you had to part ways for the night. “So… same time tomorrow?”

That cheesy smile of his didn’t sway you for even a second. You stood under the amber colored porch light and clicked your heel on the floorboards with a bit of attitude. “I told you I’m busy, don’t you even try that,” you chided teasingly.

“Tomorrow night…? The day after tomorrow…?” Johnny attempted to offer, his voice growing quieter. His cheeks were red all over again.

One straight face sent the message without even needing to speak. “I said next weekend, Johnny. I’m sorry.”

He moped, shoving his hands back in his jacket pockets. “A whole week,” he mumbled, already dreading the idea.

The boy would bore himself to death now that he was aware he couldn’t sit in comfortable silence with you, kiss you to sleep, or even lay a finger on you until next weekend. It wasn’t often he felt this way with his peers - let alone anybody… but there was always an exception for you. He thrived in your presence.

“Come on here, it’s getting later and later,” you ushered him forward for his traditional kiss goodbye. There was no purpose in trying to excuse yourself for being occupied this week. It wasn’t your fault. Your hand gently grazed his scarred cheek as your lips met his in a loving kiss.

Johnny’s hands froze in his pockets, locking them into fists. Before he had the opportunity to cherish the moment, he felt your absence wash over him entirely. He felt his nose scrunch up in disappointment, his eyebrows casting a shadow over his face at how downturned they had quickly become. He could faintly hear your delicate voice wish him a good night and utter to him softly that you loved him. He blinked his initial shock away now that you were already approaching the front door. “Hey, hold on.” Johnny yanked you a few feet back with a firm grip on your hip. “I didn’t even- didn’t even get to kiss you back…”

His eyes became full of a softened, almost hurt look. This kiss felt abnormally short…or maybe he felt he deserved a longer one to keep him sane this following week. That look was one you couldn’t resist. You grinned, happy to please him with another kiss. “I’ve got a curfew, Johnny, come here,” you said with a smile.

Once again, your bottom lip took his top lip passionately. You ensured this one was longer, resting each hand on his shoulders. This time, Johnny reciprocated the touch and let his arms fall to the bottom of your spine. He enclosed himself tightly against you, his fingers pressing into your skin slightly. The touch created a sense of desire and longing for more. You tilted your head to the side ever so slightly with both eyes shut, naturally pulling away as Johnny held you. Johnny’s eyes opened as if he had been greatly disturbed. His greasy, dark tufts of hair fell back over his eyes that sent you a pleading look. “One more, don’t short me a kiss like that,” he pecked your top lip desperately.

It was one thing for him to miss you, and another one for him to not want to leave you be. You couldn’t help but quirk your lips into a smile as he tried to smother you in more kisses all along your lips and cheeks. “Johnny-!” you gasped after feeling his lips time and time again on the warm skin of your chin… now on your neck.

He paused, pulling away with a bashful smile. “Okay- okay…” he rubbed his forehead awkwardly with one hand, the other fiddling with his jacket sleeve.

“Goodnight,” you chuckled playfully. You removed your hands from his shoulders, maneuvering them to wrap around his torso tightly.

Johnny smiled charmingly and mirrored your actions without hesitation. He leaned his chin on your shoulder and swallowed hard. “Just one more?”

“One,” you relented, although you would be a downright fool if you denied his request.

Johnny had victory over your decision again, taking full advantage of his opportunity this time around. He darted his head forward and graced you with his touch once more, this time keeping it light and meaningful. He grinned once and for all, now satisfied enough to let you go. “Goodnight, see you next…week,” he croaked out. He had a bit of a lovesick tone that only seemed to worsen with each word. He was acting like a drunken fool - though it was purely on your love and your love alone.

Your eyes met his in a hazy manner, the lovesick feeling mutual. Johnny never left you unsatisfied. “I love you…goodnight,” you whispered softly, applying force to the doorknob as you turned it hesitantly.

“Love you,” he echoed, standing at the end of your porch with that same smug grin he wore just moments ago. He waited until the door was completely shut and your figure was no longer visible in the amber lighting to leave. He sauntered off the wooden steps with a satisfied look, relishing in your lingering scent on his denim jacket.

And now the yearning had begun…

THANK YOU ALL FOR THE SUPPORT!! 🤍

-Sophia 🫶🏼