#thank you for this heavenly update

[yumemiruuuu]

I wanted to try translating the Heaven Official’s Blessing Season 2 Japanese ending, since I’m quite familiar with the language (being Japanese and all)- and also because the lyrics was so beautiful and fitting for the series. I think the official versions have been released already but I still wanted to share my interpretation of it. The full version of it is also available on Spotify btw btw!!

なぜ、まだこの心は、

Naze, mada kono kokoro ha/wa,

長い夢から覚めないのでしょう？

nagai yume kara samenai no deshou?

Why won’t this heart still wake up from this long dream?

優しさ、愛しさと、君の影を抱いて眠る

Yasashisa, itoshisato, kimi no kage wo daite nemuru.

I go to sleep carrying the shadow of you and your kindness and affection.

遠すぎる春を待つ

Toosugiru haru wo matsu

Waiting for the spring that is far away,

溢した涙、 数えきれずに

Koboshita namida, kazo-e kirezu ni

I’ve shed countless tears.

もう一度だけ その手に触れられるなら他に何もいらないから

Mou ichido dake sono te ni furerareru no nara hoka ni nani mo iranai kara

If only I can feel your hand this one more time, I would not want anything else.

追いかけた、届きたくて

Oikaketa, todoki-taku-te

I chased after you, wanting to reach

強く歩みゆくその姿

Tsuyoku ayumiyuku sono sugata

the you who walk with strength.

君がくれた全てを守りたくて

Kimi ga kureta subete wo mamoritakute

Wanting to protect the everything that you have given me,

どんな痛みでも肥えてきたの

Donna itami-demo koete-kita no

I’ve endured all the pain.

会いたくて、触れたくて

Aitakute, Furetakute

I’ve wanted to meet you, and to feel you.

��み続けてきた思いは

Kizami tsuzukete-kita omoi ha(wa)

The feelings I’ve carved into myself,

色褪せること無く募ってゆく

Iro aseru koto naku tsuno-tte yuku

continue to increase and never fade.

ずっと君のため生きて行きたい

Zutto kimi no tame ikite ikitai/yukitai

I wish to continue living only for you.

[csainzoperator]

baby : CL16 ☆

summary: y/n horner has dropped a new single. its a sexy and fun song. but y/n had broken up 4 years ago, and since then there was one superhit album with a sad and shady vibe. new year, new y/n? or new man? let's find out.

(charles leclerc × singer!reader)

trigger warnings: sexual intendos, typos (tried my best to not make any)

face claim: barbara palvin

read more under the cut!

y/nusername has posted!

hi, lovers. i know its been quite a while since you've heard from me but hey! i'm back and my single "baby" is dropping on friday, 8/12/23. stay tuned for more updates. love you all always, i thank each one of you as i wouldn't be here if it weren't for you guys 💋

liked by taylorswift, landonorris, charles_leclerc and 928,712,821 others

christianhorner proud of you, darling ❤️

- gerihalliwellhorner WE are proud of you (the spice girl inside me is squeaking)

landonorris GO BESTIE

- y/nusername ILY DUMBASS

carlossainz55 all the drivers can't wait for this! (we all are disgusted on the inside)

- y/nusername 🤭🤭

- estiebestieee GIRL WHAT DOES THAT MEAN

- y/nloverrr stop....DOES THAT MEAN THE DRIVERS HAVE HEARD THE SONG ALREADY

- pierregasly 🤐

y/nfann YOU LOOK SO PRETTY

paddockclubb y'all wondering if the drivers have heard the song when i'm out here questioning reality cos CHARLES LECLERC HAS LIKED THIS POST.

it was the end of season lunch and you were kind of nervous as you would finally be telling your parents about charles and you. your friends were thrilled but you just didn't know how your father would react.

the heavenly creatures and godly people had given you a blessing. BECAUSE NO WAY IN HELL YOUR FATHER KNEW ABOUT IT ALL ALONG?

"you aren't letting him in on any red bull secrets now, are you?" your father questioned you. and you replied right back, with mock seriousness. "you mean have i told him how max cuddles his cats and how checo never stops talking about mexican food? yes dad i've kept that a secret." your boyfriend lets out a chuckle as you finish your sentence, squeezing your thigh below the table.

"aww maxie you're a softie at heart" lando teases him as max glares at you playfully. the brunch was a success and you just couldn't wait to get back to the hotel with charles because, oh dear lord. he looked absolutely ravishing. divine. sublime even. and he knew what was on your mind, the way his hands kept brushing yours, his soft kisses when no one was looking. you felt it all.

y/nusername has posted!

fancy hotel but this is how we showed up 🤞🏼 liked by christianhorner, charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and 99,827 others.

landonorris oooh who's that hot man

- y/nusername carlossainz55 come get your child

- carlossainz55 my apologies

- carlaaaando EXACTLY WHO IS THAT MAN

charles_leclerc 🌟

y/nusername has liked this comment

- f1wags WTF ARE Y'ALL SEEING THIS.

- estiebestiee if y/n and charles are a thing. I'M NOT READY FOR THIS 🖐🏼

y/nloverr OK BUT THE UPGRADE THO. from that trash guy 4 years ago to charles mfkin leclerc 🙏🏼

it was the big day. your single was about to drop today and your boyfriend was lying down on your lap, telling you how he would LOVE to tell the world that the song was about him. you agreed, it was about him. he slowly got up and wrapped his arms around your waist, letting his hands slip under your shirt.

"aren't we getting cheeky now, mr leclerc?" you teased. "oh we are just getting started, baby" he mumbles as he kisses down your neck. and just like that, he made your big day much more special by his, let's say, needy touches.

y/nusername has posted!

"baby" out now on all platforms! enjoy streaming. sending kisses 💋 liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris, lewishamilton and 288,718,123 others.

y/nfannn "baby, baby, do i taste like candy, sugarcoated he says i'm the most sweet" UM GUYS????? I'M NOT OK 🖐🏼

landonorris great song ig 🙄

- y/nusername oh cmon we all know you love it

lewishamilton great job, sis. got a sick beat 🖤

y/nusername has liked this comment

f1wags GUYS. I'M 100% SURE THAT'S CHARLES' BACK.

- carlandooo RAH STOP I'M WEAK IN MY KNEES RN

y/nloverrr "i'm a handful but, that's what hands are for. pin me to the floor, treat it like its yours" SCREAMING YELLING KICKING MY FEET IN THE AIR GN. she ate that up 🙏🏼

charles_leclerc 🤭

charles_leclerc has posted!

"baby" is ab me. y'all can cry now 🤭 liked by y/nusername, arthur_leclerc, carlossainz55 and 287,112,123 others.

y/nusername i love you, baby.

- charles_leclerc NAH. i love you more.

- y/nusername shut up, i will kill every person who says against me, i love you more.

- charles_leclerc wow look at you making me all scared AND getting me horny at the same time.

landonorris UM. I DIDN'T NEED TO KNOW THAT.

pierregasly THERE ARE KIDS ON THIS APP.

maxverstappen1 why y'all acting like we didn't know since ages. anyways. *pretends to be shook* CONGRATS GUYS!

y/nleclercfan PARENTS 🤞🏼

lechairrr y/n basically told us how good charles is in bed by her song 😭

f1wags HAH. I KNEW IT. I SAW IT COMING BUT I'M STILL SO SHOOK RN?????

scuderiaferrari red looks good on you guys ❤️

the end ♡

[orteil42]

Cookie Clicker turns 10 today! Having outlived our enemies, let us celebrate with a fresh batch of announcements!

🍪First of all, Cookie Clicker is 40% off on Steam this week! The perfect gift for your loved and/or hated ones! (the web version is still free forever but you don't get Steam achievements or music by C418!)

🍪Secondly! The mobile version has been lagging behind the browser game for years and is in dire need of an update. I've been dedicating most of my time recently to bringing its content up to par! Here's a progress report:

Compared to the current version, this update adds back 284 upgrades and 179 achievements from the web game, which leaves 83 upgrades and 94 achievements still unimplemented plus a good amount of heavenly upgrades. I am determined to close that gap!

Seasons and the pet dragon are currently partially implemented. These are complicated, compound features with side-effects in all kinds of places so once the update gets an alpha release I'll likely be needing everyone's help to hunt for bugs and oversights. I'm being as thorough as possible but there's no way I didn't forget some obscure interplay somewhere!

I'm also updating the UI! Cookie Clicker's interface makes heavy use of woodwork, which is largely absent from the mobile version; I've been aiming to bring it back. Rather than recycling desktop assets, I'm looking to push the game's visual identity towards less "plain wooden boards" and more "victorian biscuit shop" (something I'd have liked to go for when I first made the game but didn't quite know how yet). Here's some early screenshots!

I'm using Blender for the new assets, I might make a more in-depth post about my process in the future. Please note that these are experimental and I'm still fiddling with the look! Once I'm happy with it I'll ideally be giving the desktop game a similar makeover.

This update will hopefully come out later this year and will likely involve multiple rounds of alpha. Once stable, future updates will focus on adding sugar lumps and as many of the minigames as possible.

🍪Thirdly: the Makeship grandma plushie is real and we're doing a giveaway! Please read this twitter post to enter. Note that if the launch campaign succeeds we've got other plushies in mind! Maybe a wrinkler?

🍪Fourthly - there was going to be a really cool announcement here but I've been informed I'm not yet at liberty to discuss it. It's sooooo cool tho trust me. things happening. u gotta take my word for it. tune in next time

🍪Lastly:

i've got enough dough for like, idk 50 more? mom's recipe. white+dark+milk chocolate. they're very good thank you

PS. thank you for playing with us all these years! odds are some of you reading this have been here since the very start. that's mad to think about! Opti and I couldn't have done this for 10 whole years without all of you hyping us up. i want to see if we can do 10 more. get real freaky with it

[logansargeantsbabymom]

Show Me

Lewis Hamilton x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Cursing, Smut, Cockwarming, Overstimulation, Oral, Throat Fucking, Handcuffs

part 2

F1 Masterlist

Follow my instagram account (THATS STRICTLY FOR THIS BLOG) for updates on when i post and fun stuff like that!

instagram

The music in the club is blaring so loud you can’t hear your own thoughts. My hips swayed to the music as I felt an arm snake around my waist. Turning around I see the man that I’ve been entertaining the whole night, Lewis.

“Finally, I was starting to think you bailed on me” I chuckled as I gratefully took the alcoholic beverage he brought me “Thank you Lewis” I smile as I take a sip of the drink

“And leave you here alone with these pervs?” Lewis chuckled before placing his once preoccupied hand on my hips “You wouldn’t catch me dead leaving you here alone” the one free hand I had reaching up to snake around his neck, pulling him closer to me.

The eye contact we held said all the other needed to know “I can see it in your eyes, you want a good time” Lewis said just loud enough above the music for me to hear but not anyone else, leaning closer to me, his lips almost touching mine “You wanna put your body on mine. Alright but don't change your mind, don’t you change it”

The gap between us is so dangerously small that I can smell the alcohol on his breath and it’s intoxicating me in the best way possible. I can see Lewis’ gaze flicker between my eyes and my lips “Your eyes saying please me but your lips care to ask”

I want to kiss him so bad. I don’t know if it’s the look in his eyes, the words coming out of his mouth, how plump his lips look or the alcohol in my system.

“No need to fight it when you know it feels right. You say you're a woman who knows what she likes” The hand he had resting on my hip moved up to the back of my neck pulling me closer to him but only to kiss the corner of my mouth. He then starts to leave some kisses on my jaw before whispering in my ear “Then show me”

———————————————————————

“C’mon baby, I know you can take it. Don’t give up on me just yet,” I couldn’t think, Lewis had just pulled my second orgasm out of me tonight and my thighs haven’t stopped shaking since the first one. “my baby, I haven’t even tasted you yet, I’ve just made you cum twice with my fingers.”

I didn’t think it was possible to shake this much from only having two orgasms from someone’s hands alone but Lewis always made it a mission to prove me wrong.

“You look so pretty right now, look s’good for me just sprawled out. I need a taste” a mixture of incoherent words and moans spills from my lips as I know that Lewis isn’t gonna stop until he pulls at least two more orgasms from me with just his tongue alone.

The way Lewis trails kisses down my neck to my core was heavenly, I didn’t have time to prepare myself as I watched him lower himself between my legs before I felt his mouth attack my clit. A gasp escapes my lips as jolt forward and my thighs instinctively close around his head.

Instead of prying my legs open, Lewis used both his arms and wrapped them around my legs that we’re currently trapping him to ensure he couldn’t stop, not that he wanted to, before absolutely going to town eating me out.

He drew long strides of his tongue all the way up and down my slit before sucking on my clit, I’m pretty sure a few times I felt his tongue enter me which caused my hands to find their place in his hair, pushing him further down causing him to let out a deep groan, which was all it took before my thighs that were already trapping him to squeeze as my third orgasm overtook my body.

Lewis lapped my juices before he loosens his grip on my legs, looking up at me with dark, lust filled eyes and a glistening chin as he crawled his way up to me placing a chaste kiss to my lips allowing me to taste myself on him. Without breaking the kiss, Lewis starts to take off his sweatpants and boxers.

"Lew, please I can't do no more right now" I mumble, breaking the kiss.

"Shh, its okay. I'll take care of you, j's need you to sit on my cock okay? Can you do that for me or do you really want to stop?" just when I thought I couldn't fall more in love with Lewis, he pulls this card.

I press my lips to his in a kiss of pure adoration “Mmhmm, I need your cock Lew, please”

“that’s my good girl, c’mere” his calloused hands finding their place on my hips as he pulls me onto his lap, giving his cock a few strokes before lining himself up with my entrance allowing me to sink down on him.

Lewis is fairly big so he’s patient with me as I take him inch by inch until he’s fully bottomed out and allowing me to adjust to his size. Right when I was comfortable enough to start bouncing and I lifted my hips one of Lewis’ hands that were still resting on my hips tightened and pulled me right back down

“Nuh uh baby, you’re just gonna sit here and we’re gonna talk” his hands now drawing imaginary circles on my hips “how’s your day been pretty?” a small smirk appears on his face. Bastard, he knew what he was doing and he was enjoying it.

A whimper escaped my lips as my core ached for friction. In a pathetic attempt of getting lewis to break and fuck me, I clenched down on his cock and I smile to myself as I hear a low guttural moan from him

“Please Lew, I need to move. I need to feel you moving inside me, I need th-this. please please” I’ve never begged for anything in my life the way I’m begging for Lewis to move his cock in me. Who could blame me? I can feel every ridge and vein of his cock, I started squeezing around him so hard that I swear I felt the blood continue flowing through his veins when I stopped clenching. I was so caught up in relishing the feeling of his cock buried deep inside me that I didn’t even notice Lewis was talking to me, not at least until I felt a firm hand on my jaw and another gently slap my cheek a few times.

“Oh has my baby gone dumb on me? I’m asking you a question but I bet all you’re thinking about is how my cock is buried so deep inside you that if I came right now, I’d guarantee putting a baby in you.” I couldn’t take it anymore, against my better judgment I started rocking my hips. Something about the way Lewis was talking to me like I’d had no brain cells did something to me and I was determined to get not only him to cum but me to come again for the fourth time tonight.

Lewis’ head fell back in pure bliss as the hands that were planted on my hips started helping me move, it didn’t last long as Lewis came back to his senses quickly halting my movements. “Now, I didn’t tell you that you could move did I?” Silence. “I asked you a question darling. Answer me or I cut this night short.” the words escaped my mouth, I wanted to respond. I really did, but I couldn’t form words and that upset Lewis.

“Oh well, I had a fun night planned for us but since you can’t follow simple instructions,” Lewis lifted me off his hips, letting out a small hiss at the sudden loss of contact “I guess my plans with you have gone to waste” all the words that escaped me a second ago now flooding back to me.

“No, please Lew. I’m sorry, I’ll be good. I’ll obey you, I really need your cock, I need you to make me cum again.” I could tell that my words were getting to him but not quite enough for him to forgive me.

“No, I don’t think so. I’ve given you many chances now I think it’s just appropriate to make you watch as I pleasure myself and leave you high and dry” my thighs clench at the thought of Lewis making me watch as he touches himself and that did not go unnoticed by him “Oh but you’d like that would you? I wouldn’t have taken you as a dirty slut but I’m not complaining”

The threat of touching himself as I watched unable to do anything was no longer a threat as I watched Lewis get off his bed and walk over to the bedside table pulling out two pairs of black fluffy handcuffs making his way over to me as he opens the cuffs.

“sit up against the headboard.” he ordered, sending a gush of wetness between my thighs. I comply knowing I shouldn’t push his buttons more unless I want this night to really end.

As I say against the headboard I watch Lewis intensely as he grabs my one wrist and cuffs it to the bed before climbing on the bed and almost straddling me as he cuffs my other hand to the bed. His cock was just dangling in front of my face so also against my better judgement I give it a kitten lick before placing a kiss on it. Once the cuffs clicked Lewis grabbed my face

“Disobeying me as I’m punishing you? You really don’t want me to take care of you tonight. No no, I think you want me to punish you all night into the morning.” his voice low and seductive

I tug my wrist against the headboard trying to grab his face and pull him in for a kiss but to no avail. I watch as Lewis sits opposite of me as he starts stroking his cock smearing the precum from his head using it as lube. He sets a slow pace as he moves his wrists, he’s not touching himself for pleasure right now. No, he’s touching himself because he knows I want to but can’t because of this punishment.

I bit my lower lip as I watched Lewis’ excruciatingly slow pace, I don’t know why it’s bothering me seeing as it’s not me he’s pleasuring. But that might just be it, he’s so perfect that he shouldn’t have to be pleasured at such a slow pace, he deserves to be worshipped, to have someone that he can use whenever he wants.

Lewis seemed to have taken notice of my thoughts “It’s getting to you right? Watching me touch myself so slow, knowing you would do the opposite?” a nod was all I could do “I need your words if you want your punishment to end soon.”

“Yes, yes it’s killing me Lew. I want to touch you, suck you, I want your cum, I want it all. I want everything you’re willing to give me.” it’s pathetic really, why is he the only man to have this effect on me? I’m a woman for crying out loud, I should be independent and not wasting my time on a man but something about Lewis made me throw all sense of womanhood away.

If this man told me to quit my job and be a stay at home wife like how it was in the 1950s, I would gladly quit my job right now.

“That’s my good dirty girl” as Lewis praised me for using my words, he sped up his strokes. I could tell by the way his face contorted that he was close. “Baby, I’m gonna cum. Where do you want it?” the pace of his strokes told me he wouldn’t last long.

“in my mouth, I need to taste you”

That was all it took before lewis got on his knees and shoved his cock down my throat moving his cock in and out of my throat. As Lewis kept fucking my throat, he was close enough that I could barely touch him but I did anyway. His hips stuttered and with one final thrust he was shoving his cock so far down my throat as he came that my head was sliding to the side of the headboard but it have me better clearance to grip his hips pulling him deeper inside of my throat.

With shaky thighs Lewis pulled back and sat on my thighs as he watched me as I swallowed all of his cum like I said I would. The second Lewis sat down his semi limp cock gently grazed my clit a wave of euphoria came over me and I came. This time was different though, I squirted for like, the first time ever and it was all over Lewis.

“Oh baby, you’re in for a long night” Lewis said while he lapped up whatever he could from both of our stomachs before taking the handcuffs off “be prepared to not walk for a while”

—————

I REALLY WANNA CONTINUE BUT YA GIRL HAS A JOB AND I HAVE TO GET DRESSED AND LEAVE . LMK IF I SHOULD CONTINUE OR IF I SHOULD JS LEAVE IT.

taglist

@luckyladycreator2 @itsmiamalfoy @jeffs77 @ilivbullyingjeongin @forevercaffeinated-lee @daemyratwst @gulphulp @callsignwidow @f1wintermoon13 @teenwolf01 @victoriassecret101 @hiireadstuff @formulaal

[joelscruff]

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

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

It's crazy how one weekend can change everything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What is it?"

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe your mother can solve this problem for you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What did you do?"

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

"Did you go to your lesson on Saturday?"

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

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

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

"So have you? Been making progress?"

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

"Which ones are you learning?"

Oh fuck.

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"For what?"

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

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

Your stomach twists uncomfortably.

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

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

"Just.... bein' open."

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

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

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

Oh. You didn't know that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You're looking at his daughter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But you did."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He's fuckin' crazy about you.

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

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

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

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

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

"Need it deep inside, huh?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shiver, "Why didn't you?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What is it?"

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

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

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

The anxiety settles, and you believe him.

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His expression falters, "Why, baby?"

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

"I like driving, it's peaceful."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

It feels so fucking good to have Joel Miller.

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

buying lingerie, what is this?? help!!

Of course, Tasha is the first to reply:

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

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

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

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

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

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

why is being sexy so awkward and expensive?

welcome to my life sister

158 DOLLARS FOR 3 SCRAPS OF MATERIAL

that's it, let it all out

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh, cool."

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

"Is it that obvious?"

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

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

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

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

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

He chuckles, "What were you expectin'?"

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

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

"Did you remind her?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You giggle, "Yeah, probably not."

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

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

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

"Tangled Up in Blue, Bob Dylan."

"I knew it was Bob Dylan."

"Good ear. You play?"

"Um, not really."

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Need your pussy touched, baby?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

Hold on...

Angel

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

You wince, "Oh. Right."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What the fuck?

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

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

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

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

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

This is too much, you want to say.

How much did you spend? you want to ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

He does.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shiver at the thought.

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

Are you in Dallas yet?

Let me know when you arrive.

What hotel are you staying at?

Text me back now.

Where are you?

Answer the phone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You read the message again, and then again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There's a beat of silence, then -

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But it -"

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

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

"What d'you mean?"

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

"Is that my crucifix?" you ask quietly.

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

What?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I love you.

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

But you already know that it is.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod quickly, expression hazy, "Yes."

"How wet?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Good?" he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When he says slow - he means slow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hurts?" he asks softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You close your eyes, breathe him in.

I love you.

[back2bluesidex]

Give Me A Taste - MYG (18+)

Pairing: Idol!Yoongi X Fem!Reader

Theme: PWP, SMUT, established relationship au

Wordcount: 1.3k+

Summary: Yoongi is down bad for you, he has been missing your taste crazily. Thanks to unexpected turns of events and a cancelled show, he can finally satiate his hunger for you.

Warnings: Titty fucking, yes, he fucks her tits, tit play (a bit), fingering, he cums on her chest, a heated make out, Unprotected sex (don't try this at home), NSFW!!

Minors are not allowed in this blog!!

A/N: It's been a minute since I have written anything for Mr. Min. so... here it is. also, this is an apology because I won't be able to update WDBHG this week. I'm so sorry.:(

You are trying your best to scrub off the burnt patch of your frying pan when you hear the door lock chiming its jovial sound. 

“What the –” muttering to yourself, you start peeling off the washing gloves from your hands. It’s only you and Yoongi who know the passcode of your shared home. You are inside the condo and Yoongi is out on a world tour still having three more weeks to come back home. So it’s definitely a trespasser, or worse, a burglar or a robber trying to break into your house. 

Your blood runs cold at the thought as you walk towards the door for taking a look at the doorbell screen. Your steps halt when you see your boyfriend putting off his shoes and slipping into home slippers. 

“Yoongi?” you whisper, your eyes fill with moisture at an instant. It’s been nearly three months since you last saw him, smelled his calming scent, traced his skin with your fingertips. You have been missing him crazily and a brief phone or video call a day does absolutely nothing to quench your thirst. 

“One of the shows got canceled due to extreme weather conditions, we have a week till the next one. So, we decided to rest for a bit.” Yoongi reasons in his usual calm voice, before you get to ask him. He comes to stand right in front of you as you keep on staring at him. 

“Oh. Have you-” 

“Are you just going to stare at me?” Yoongi cuts you off. His face is unreadable but his eyes are dark, which makes it hard for you to assume anything. 

“No, I-” 

You get cut off again but this time because Yoongi slams his lips onto yours, pinning you to the nearest wall. 

Your boyfriend is usually calm and collected but he becomes a beast when lust takes over his senses. 

He grabs your wrists with both of his hands, pinning those above your head as he presses his body on yours. 

He kisses you hungrily, as if trying to lavish your lips for all the times he was away from you. You kiss him back with just as much urgency. The make out session is so heated that it spreads heat all over your body, including your pussy that just started wetting your cotton panties. 

You realize Yoongi is on the same page when his semi hard bulge presses on your stomach. 

He bites down on your lower lip, pulling it with his teeth before leaving you fucked up with only kisses. 

Yoongi loves you. Oh hell! It will be underestimated to say that he just loves you. He is obsessed with you! He craves for you like a lunatic. He starves for you. 

This prolonged period of staying away from you has been taking a toll on him, that’s why he came rushing back to you as soon as he got the chance. 

He looks at you with hooded eyes, stares down at your swollen lips then at your perked nipples. Fuck! You look heavenly like this. He can’t wait to feel your warmth wrapped around his length.

“I’ve missed you,Y/N. I can barely control myself anymore.” Yoongi whispers as he latches his lips to your throat, placing soft and lingering kisses wherever he could reach. 

“You don’t need to control yourself, Yoongi. I am all yours. Do whatever you want. I am all yours.” You breathe out. Yoongi’s tight grip on your wrists arouses you by an impossible amount. 

“Yes baby. I am going to fuck you so good now. But before that.. Give me a taste? Will you?” Yoongi’s low voice sends a trail of goosebumps all over your body. You suddenly find an urge to shy away from him and his eyes which are currently boring in your chest, more precisely, your nipples.  

Yoongi finds it adorable the way you get a little shy whenever he asks for a taste of your tits. He loves your tits, he can never get enough of those and fucking your tits is one of his most favourite ways of ruining you. 

He leaves your hands and clutches at the rim of your oversized tshirt to pull it off of your body. His eyes turn even darker as soon as you are topless in front of him. 

He palms your tits for a few moments. You push your tits out to enjoy more of his touch by arching your back. Yoongi chuckles at your eagerness. 

“Guess you missed me too, darling?” he squeezes both of your tits at the same time to erect a soft contained sigh from your lips. 

“You have no idea how much.” you murmur while enjoying Yoongi’s rough hands on your soft supple flesh. 

His fingers find your nipples and he twists those to satisfy himself, “then you will let me fuck your titties today, won’t you?” 

“I will…” you voice somehow. 

Yoongi bends down and takes one of your nipples in his mouth. 

As soon as the bud is inside his mouth, he starts lapping it up with his saliva before sucking it hard. All of your breath is knocked out when he worries your nipple between his teeth, not quite biting it rather playing with it with practiced skills.  

One of your hands finds its way to his long dark hair, nails raking through his scalp, earning a moan from your boyfriend. Your other hand travels down to south, brushing through the rough material of his jeans, grabbing his bulge and rubbing it to satiate your burning need that has developed for him.  

Yoongi repeats his actions with your other nipple, arousing you more and more.  

You are far too gone with the pleasure to notice that Yoongi has smeared your chest with his saliva, seemingly preparing you tits to take his cock. 

“Should we head to the couch now?” he asks with his gentle yet low voice. You nod eagerly. 

He lifts you up effortlessly, carries you to the couch and lays you down. Swiftly removing the rest of your clothes and leaving you lying naked on the couch, he reaches for his own clothes. 

His cock springs out of his boxers, tall and proud and ready to fuck you. He smirks, feeling you eyeing him like the horny, hungry girl that you are. 

Yoongi climbs on top of you, places his knees on either side of you, and lines his cock in the middle of your tits. You squeeze your tits tightly to make a tight passage for your boyfriend’s greedy cock. 

His first thrust is a little messy, the head of his cock nudges you on your chin, painting your chin with his precum. 

The next thrusts are more stable and steady and soon you hear Yoongi groaning in pleasure. He is such a goner when it comes to your tits. You tighten your tits even more to rile him up. 

“B-Baby, ugh, Y/N! I will c-cum at this rate.” Yoongi whines. Your eyes roll back at the sensation of his cock being squeezed by your big tits. 

But you start seeing stars when you feel Yoongi’s fingers parting your folds and drawing tight circles on your clit. 

“Oh my– Yoongi” you fumble to make any coherent sentence. 

Arousal pools out of your hole and creates a mess down there.

Apparently, it’s too much for Yoongi to take in your fucked up state, your wetness on his fingers and your tits squeezing the hell out of his cock, all together. His dick starts twitching and before he could warn you, he is cumming all over your face, throat and chest. 

Your grip on your tits loosen as you bring your hand to wipe your face off. When your vision returns to you, you find Yoongi licking your juices off of his fingers while maintaining a steady eye contact with you. He definitely doesn’t look like someone who just cummed all over you. 

Repositioning himself, Yoongi lowers his head to the level of your cunt and chuckles in his breathy voice, “Next up is your pussy. Give me a taste, yeah?” 

And you know you are going to have a long day ahead.

Taglist:

@phenomenalgirl9 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @sukunabitch @chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel @chimmisbae

[nohoney]

dragon king bakugou who pillages a a nomadic tribe with his men. they cause chaos, taking what they deem valuable and leaving utter destruction until they’re satisfied with the damage. he happens to see the biggest tent that pitched up in the entire encampment and makes his way to it. maybe there’s gold in it, treasure, good wine or ale that will warm his blood, or weapons.

even better, there’s a woman in it.

you’re cowering in the corner when bakugou enters the tent, shouting a battle cry in his language. he slaughters the man that seems to be your husband if the matching circlets are anything to go by, deciding to ignore the fancy and luxurious looking chest and going straight to you. it’s too easy to lift you and put you over his shoulder, you yelping in surprise but seeming to have enough sense to not fight back. bakugou kicks at the head of your husband first before walking through his spilled blood.

he’s directing his men to loot whatever they can use as he approaches his dragon. the beast bows to him, a loyal creature that bakugou had raised since he himself was a child, waiting patiently as he climbs onto the saddle that’s mounted onto the dragon’s back.

“if you fall, i won’t bother to catch you so you better hang on.” bakugou speaks in the common language, one of four he knows and seeing if you understand. you nod your head and hang on tightly, practically holding him in a death grip.

he’s brought you back to his home, pushing you to a gaggle of maidens to get you cleaned up while he takes inventory of what was taken. he expects to hear some update about you; that you’re screaming or fighting back, maybe even crying.

he gets no news aside from the fact that you’re scrubbed clean, you’ve been dressed, and you’re put in his quarters.

it’s a few hours before he finally goes into the privacy in his room. you’re sat by the fireplace, a dragon egg sitting on a bed of warmed coal nearby that you seemed to be looking at before his presence snapped your attention to him. you’re being docile, bowing slightly when he approaches but it makes bakugou be on guard.

you could be one of those witches that plays soft but poisons him in his sleep.

in your lap, the circlet you were wearing before is held delicately in your hands along with some ripped up white cloth that he doesn’t recognize.

“my king,” you speak first, addressing him formally which makes bakugou wary of you, “thank you.”

one of his eyebrows quirks up in question, unsure what he was being thanked for.

“today was my wedding day… i was to be married to a man that was going to make me his fourth wife. i dreaded it for the last year, and i prayed everyday to the gods to intervene in my fate. but nothing happened and i—i was beginning to despair as they prepared me for the ceremony.” you speak softly, your hands delicately tracing the metal of the circlet before petting over the precious jewel at the center of the piece, “but the gods answered my prayers and you saved me!”

a wedding, that explains the amount of inordinate amount of treasure that had been collected.

bakugou is stunned, watching as you stand up to your feet, the circlet and the white cloth dropping to the floor. he realizes now that the cloth you had in your lap was in fact the dress you were wearing before; your wedding dress.

you had been dressed in a robe, colored a rustic orange but with gold details intricately sewn into the fabric. the robe bakugou’s mother had made for him when he had been crowned as the dragon king. you undo the belt of it and let it fall open, the heavy fabric falling off your body as you present yourself to him. the glow of the fire makes your body look heavenly and your eyes shine brightly with an adoration that bakugou had never seen before.

“i want to thank you. please let me thank you for saving me.”

you step to him slowly, kicking aside the circlet and stepping on your wedding dress, your hands delicately touching his shoulders as if testing to see if he would push you away. bakugou doesn’t, still observing you carefully as you invade his space.

“allow me to show you my gratefulness, my king.”

[apollosgiftofprophecy]

UPDATED 1/29/24

this was inspired by @lubble-underscore's post and I decided to expand on the iceberg and see how much I could throw on it

thanks to the Discord server for filling in on things that didn't cross my mind! :D

feel free to save and highlight what you know :3 Links to many of these things are below - some are not tho!

Tier 1 - do we even need to SAY anything?

pathetic little meow meow

bisexual

unreliable narrator

Tier 2 - surface level/easy to see

superiority/inferiority complex

bitchsexual (i mean... points to commodus)

raised chiron (see CHB Confidential)

Tier 3 - complete read-through/reread; taking first steps into fandom

breaks cycle of abuse

polldona

great with kids, actually (see Harley, Georgie, ect.)

ordered pizza to chb (see The Hidden Oracle)

domains contradict

best godly parent

still heavily affected by past lovers (see The Whole Series)

Tier 4 - digging a little deeper

love life isn't actually terrible

definitely tried to bang frey at least once (see that One throwaway line in The Hidden Oracle)

malewife malewhore manslaughter

broke up the beatles because paul jilted him (Discord)

sees the faces of primordial gods (see The Hidden Oracle)

copollo could have worked

catboy but cats are competition (See The Tyrant's Tomb; submitted by @trials-of-apollo-my-beloved)

freakishly high pain tolerance (See THE ENTIRE SERIES)

Tier 5 - holy shit we're on to something

that apollo & jesus fic (Discord)

knew hades had kids in TTC

pressured to be the perfect son

fatal flaw is love

not as close to hermes as he used to be

seahorsed kayla

patron of CHB

roman apollo au (Discord: Creator chronictheorizing)

Tier 6 - wait what. OH!

was forced to punish halcyon green

deathsong (Discord: Creator @txny-dragon) (addition)

kids are greek & roman

michael yew is most like him

brings change by being his true self and not the fake one (Submitted by @/txny-dragon)

laomedon is why he hates slavery (Discord: Creator @ukelele-boy)

intentionally made the orientation video to communicate info on the gods

Tier 7 - what the fuck did we get ourselves into

directed travis & conner to tartarus tongs

Apollo x Orion is peek hateship (Discord: Origin in Tsari's server during Eclipse)

unlocked heavenly prophecy powers during trials

dated oscar wilde and inspired the picture of dorian gray (Discord)

half-titan theory

tartarus regenerated him

imperial kids were meant to usurp the olympians

Tier 8 - we're in too deep but will never come out

knows estelle is omen of end of the world

[thewinchestah]

"Good things come for those who wait" - Alastor x reader fic

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Tags: ,18+, Smut, NSFW, edging, BDSM, Alastor does what he wants, there's plot if you squint really hard, alastor in heat, breeding kink, Possesive! Alastor, Jealous!Alastor, Protective!Alastor, spanking,degradation kink, praise kink, Angst with a happy ending, fluff, I didn't proof read this, english isn't my first language, no beta we die like men here, etc etc etc

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Word Count: there's no point guys. I can't stop talking.

A/N: WOAH!! Hello everyone!! What the fuck?? I wasn't expecting my "debut fic" to blow up like that! Thank you so so much to everyone who took the time to read it and leave a comment! I'm truly flattered by your praise. So, I hope this sequel to "PREY" does it justice! (but it can also be read as a standalone). Let me know if you guys like it, and if you have anymore ideas/suggestions! I'm tagging everyone who asked me to, so if you want to be tagged on my next fics let me know! Without further due, here comes that mostrosity of a fic! Hope you like it <3! (UPDATE: PART 3 IS NOW UP!!)

Part I  | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Taglist: @smallershorteranduncut @markster666 @jyoongim @stygianoir  @pepperycookie @fraspent @aether-th3-enby 

It all started, as many things do, with a joke and a simple misunderstanding. Dying and instantly going to hell is not easy. Being in hell and not understanding why the FUCK you are in hell is confusing, frustrating and sometimes drawright ridiculous. There’s no guidebook for the hellish afterlife, and more often than not you felt lost at sea, drowning. Until you found your questionable lifeline, the Radio Demon. 

Somehow said demon clocked really early on that you were completely infatuated with him, but too scared to act on it. And oh, how he gave you enough reason to be infatuated, enough reason to be scared. Luring you into the most delicious trap, Alastor had claimed you as his. His to breed during the height of his heat, his to care for, his to inflict the most heavenly torture. 

Being caught up in the middle of the living myth that was the Radio Demon was a dangerous thing, you had been warned over and over again. So of course that you had to almost fuck everything up in the silliest way possible.

The obnoxious TV set, also known as Vox, had just started another round of his futile attempts to win Alastor’s attention by airing the most absurd reality tv character assassination ever. You would put money on the fact that the obsessive flat screen was a deceased TLC producer. Usually, any of his pompous i-hate-alastor-so-so-much!!! fits would be met with enthusiasm around the Hotel. Everyone would cramp in front of the TV and make fun of the entire ordeal. Even Alastor would tag along and make a private edition of his radio show while he counter-narrated that nonsense. It became a fun bonding activity for everyone involved, it was a nice thing. But there’s a reason why you can’t have nice things.

Today the Hotel was mostly empty:, only you, Angel and a very on edge, sexually frustrated, irritated Alastor haunted its posh walls. Still, you and Angel carried on with the little tradition sitting side by side in front of the tv not knowing what to expect from today’s “My Strange Addiction - Alastor’s Version” episode. It was truly a laughable attempt of a character assassination, actors who could not act saying things like “Alastor isn’t even as bad as everyone says, his torture tactics are not that special either. My mom’s aunt was tortured by him and was going to work 10 hours later”, “i walked down the street today and alastor didn’t even try to kill me when he saw me crossing the street, he’s all talk” “i have video footage of the self-proclaimed cannibal eating a chocolate covered strawberry. He’s cannibalbaiting.”

“no self-respecting overlord would go out wearing those ridiculous out-of fashion clothes”. 

Angel was having the time of his life leading the daily Vox roast session, the spider was funny and you couldn’t hold the laughs. The camera cut to a close-up of Vox, babbling on about technology and the anti-Radio Demon speech you knew by heart at this point. As if on cue, Alastor entered the room. But the pair of you remained oblivious to his presence. 

“Toots, you totally should apply for this show! I mean it!. I’m sure Vox will buy literally anything you say. Anything! If you say Alastor likes to eat red nail polish cause it looks like blood he would believe it! You laughed at his words, what a ridiculous thing to say. You loved red nail polish, alastor drinking it because it looks like blood is absurd. “I mean, look at you!! Look at this face, these eyes!! This body!!!” Angel gave your thighs a playful slap. “If you say hell is actually cold using all that i would eat it right up. Vox will be too busy staring at your boobs to notice you dropping that even the oldest radio looks better than that fucking flat face”. The thought that you were the mind-numbing type of beautiful made you laugh. Sometimes you felt like your friends were being way too kind with the flattery about you. You were nothing special at all. It was nice of them to be kind to you, adapting to your new lifestyle was taking a visible tool, anyone could tell. Their efforts were honorable and sweet, but you just couldn’t let yourself believe what in your heart, you knew was a lie. A beautiful, comfortable lie, but still a lie. You weren’t much, you were just lucky. You started to laugh even harder, out of pure nervousness as your brain started to snowball into all the things you weren’t. 

“ Seriously Angel, you have the strangest ideas ever!” you tried to sound normal, putting up a confident facade. That helped, a lot. You had picked that up during your days with Alastor. 

Speaking of the devil, Alastor wasn’t amused by your little display. Standing on the corner of the room as you laughed, he made himself known by walking out of the room, in hurried steps. If it were anyone else, they wouldn’t think much of it. But you weren’t anyone else. You were Alastor’s. 

And that’s why he was seething with rage. His rut always drove him, an already unpredictable man, to the brink of true, pure instinctual insanity. He had to grip his marvelous constructed self control painfully hard. Since your paths crossed, the most chaotic part of his existence seemed in control, your pretty little body always ready to take him, your eyes always holding his gaze in a maddening  comfortable way, the way you would push your limits just for him. 

Only for him.

And the worst part was your softness when it was all done. Alastor would fuck you rentless, for hours, making you take all the mess of his most animalistic desires without a second thought. Both of you would be spent, bathing in the afterglow, room smelling like sex, and you would ask him if he needed anything. Him, that just fucked you so hard so won’t walk straight for a week, that feasted on the blood of the love bites he inflicted, him that covered you in a painting of bruises. 

How could he not want to just lock you inside his lavish room and give you all the rings of hell? to carve his name deep into your soul? to dote on you? to make him the only thing on your mind as he makes you his time and time again in the most sinful ways?

It was simple really, why he was shaking with anger: how you, who was his, was even thinking of being in the same vicinity of that scum of creation?  LAUGHING AT THIS ABSURD CONCEPT. Vox thinking of you was already a crime punishable by painful death, but Vox looking at you was heresy, and the entirety of hell would pay for his transgressions. 

As Alastor stormed off towards the Hotel’s large room corridors, he took several calming breaths. Losing control like this wouldn’t do anyone any favors. In the troubled waters of his mind, Alastor could only think of 3 things: you, fucking you and murdering someone.

 So he didn’t even realize your hurried steps trying to catch up with his long strides.

“Hey sugartits! Don’t take too long doing whatever you need to do! there’s a woman going live after the break saying she saw Alastor eating an entire packet of PAPER TOWELS!!! HAHA! This shit is too good to be true!” you heard angel scream.

Adding insult to injury, nice.

Trying desperately to reach your demon lover gait, you could only think about how bad you had messed up. Alastor was your only true respite in hell. He was a blessing in a mist of the worst humankind could offer. He made you feel hope, more than making you feel alive, he made you feel glad you’re dead. The Radio Demon felt like coming home. You just wanted to make it up to him. You could not lose this, lose him. You were not sure you would survive it. And who knew where you went after dying in hell? 

It doesn’t matter where you go after hell, it doesn’t matter at all if Alastor is not there. Your brain added to your inner monologue. True.

“Alastor! Wait” you shouted. He stops dead on his feet.

Finally, those long long legs of his do not make chasing after your love any easier.

“Alastor, I'm so so sorry. Angel gets way out of line sometimes and I was nervous” he is perfectly still, ears pinned back, listening. But doesn’t say anything back.

“Al I’m truly sorry. I didn’t mean it like that, at all. Look, let’s try to do something to make your day better. I know how hard this season is on you, I know you feel like you are losing contr-

Uh oh.

oh shit.

You used the two forbidden words together. The temperature in the room drops, Alastor snaps towards you. You feel something gripping your throat mercilessly, as you fall to the ground. Looking at the other end of the corridor Alastor has you on a leash of his magic. Eyes burning red, forehead marked “x” he grips your chains hard, pushing you towards him.

“That was a brilliant speech, little doe. Truly marvelous! I’m sure your television debut will be quite the show you were planning!”

His antlers were growing, his demon form showing itself as he becomes taller and taller over you. All bared teeth and flashing red eyes. This is what everyone warned you about. Don’t get in the Radio Demon’s way, he is dangerous and insane. You will regret it.

Hot. your brain thinks. He pulls your leash even tighter, and you feel wetness pooling on your core.

“Do you have any idea what I was about to do before I heard you so selflessly offer your services to that pathetic excuse of a demon?” Dragging you by the magic chains, his towering frame comes down to meet you at eye level. You can’t say anything back, your brain short circuits and goes AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

“You know better than leaving me waiting for an answer at this point, pet” He grips your face using his sharp claws,the pressure threatening to break skin. “But you seem so hellbent on being a bad girl today, I shouldn’t expect your usually good girl’s behavior, should I?”

You are, once again nothing but a doe caught in the headlights of his eyes

“One should always know better than expecting their fantasies to be true”

His sclera goes black, only the tiny blazing red radio dials devouring you as he stares so deep into you, you feel feverish. 

“But since we are already here. I. Will. Tell. You.” static picks up around the room and surrounds you both, the corridor is illuminated by an eerie green light. You start to kinda fear for your life, but Alastor has you completely hypnotized by the radio dials on his eyes. You shiver in anticipation. 

 “I was coming to ask you, to please, spare me a part of your day, away from you friends. Because the only thing on my mind has been you. Fucking you. Sinking my cock so deep into your tight, wet cunt it would mark your soul. Because you are the only one who can take me like this, who deserves being bred by me, who deserves every drop of my seed”

You feel the wetness on your panties grow until it runs down your thighs. There’s nothing right about this, but your dear Alastor showed you long ago how the concepts of right and wrong are meant to be skewed.

“But oh well, you seem to have your affections directed elsewhere…” he tsks at you using that delicious mocking tone. “But, you can’t blame a desperate man for trying” he goes from 100 to 0 really fast, his voice softens so much in a way that’s almost too heavy to hear after all that. Even with his demon form still very much present  “Do you still want to make my day better, pet?”

you are at a loss of words, but you manage to nod desperately. The anticipation of what he is going to do to you makes you giddy. 

He manhandles your leash until you are on your knees in front of him, tugging on the chains so you look up towards his crotch. He makes quick work of his pants, pulling his cock out. Hard, angry hot red coloured. Angry because of you, angry for you. 

“Open wide, little one” and without much more warning, Alastor is fucking your face, hard and fast. 

You position your arms behind your back as quickly as you can.  You know how hard it is for him to be touched when his rut is peaking. The overwhelming need for relief mixing with his ever present desire for control. This is about him asserting his dominance over you, making sure you don’t ever forget where you belong: In the warmth of his burning gaze, under him, on your knees, while he merciless fucks your throat into compliance. He’s taking it out on you, and you fucking love it.

He’s not saying anything, only growling like he’s about to murder someone. He grabs fistfuls of your velvety hair, but never leaves the white knuckle grip on your chains. You can only resist the urge of playing with your pussy while he thrusts so deep you feel his monster cock. hitting the back of your throat. This is about him, and you want to give him this so badly your cunt is throbbing with desire

Tears wet your cheeks, your lips around his cock are the definition of renaissance art to Alastor. He’s almost over the edge now, the head of his cock twitches on top of your tongue as a warning of his approaching orgasm. It’s hard, it’s hot, it’s fast and it’s angry.

Alastor cums, you swallow as much as you can, but he takes his cock out and spills everywhere, coating your hair,  your face. It’s so deliciously erotic Alastor can’t resist catching some of his cum and running his hands throughout your velvet locks, bathing you in his essence, marking you once more. There’s still a bit of cum on the tip of his claw, he feeds it to you, and your lips wrap around his fingers as you take as much of him you can take, gladly. 

“Oh how beautiful you are when you ruin yourself like this for me, my little doe” You look up at him with adoration and a lustful gaze, his eyes hold an equally lustful gaze and… something more. Something that you are sure will drive you insane. 

Alastor notices the pooling mess underneath your tights, he knows how desperate you are for relief, but he still wants to self indulge on you. He’s certain you still don’t understand the reality of what he is feeling. Swiftly he topples you down the corridor’s carpet and places himself between your legs, his crawled finger tearing your lacy panties away. 

Then, he feasts on you like a starving man, and he might be, because you taste like the ambrosia of the gods and he can’t get enough of it. Of how you make a mess of yourself for him and there’s still something for him to take. You just taste so sweet, what a perfect meal your nectar makes. His wicked silver tongue polishes you, aided by your whispered sighs, his name moaned like a prayer on your lips. You are so so close, alastor sucks on your throbbing clit you are already seeing stars, all you need is a gentle push.

 Grinning like a devil, Alastor looks up, tilts his head, gives you the most wicked-and-douchey look in existence. He gets up, your leash dissipating into the air and walks away in perfect composure, like nothing happened. Nothing at all.

“Well, I think that’s my cue!!” he says in his usually chirpy tone. You just stay there, flabbergasted. “I just remembered I still have a lot to do today! Work never stops when you maintain a facility like this in tip-top condition!” Already halfway across the corridor, Alastor’s head turns towards you “Still want to make my day good my dear? Be a doll and clean this mess up, will you?” you just stare at him, too fucking stunned to speak. You can’t believe it. That fucking devil. He’s about to make the turn towards the elevator and disappear when his eyes flash red as he warns you “Oh! and don’t you dare make yourself cum without my permission. If you cum before I say so, you won’t be cumming for a week. Choose wisely!Let’s see who loses control first Ha Ha! This will be fun!”

 Alastor can be a psychopathic demon in heat, but before all that he still is a psychopathic demon who loves torture. 

And he just left you all hot and bothered. 

–

Alastor knew better than believing in such things as heaven or holiness. In fact, Alastor was positively sure nothing was sacred. The concept of sacredness was non-existent in his book.

But his skeptic mind danced on the edge of belief when he touched you. To be inside you felt heavenly, heavenly in a type of way that should not even be allowed in this place. The way your lush body burned underneath his wicked gaze was sacred.The way you always presented yourself to him, with selfless abandon was sacred. Somehow, someone allowed him, of all people, access to a soul he frankly didn’t understand what was doing in hell in the first place. He never was the better man. He was never giving that up.

In all of his nature, Alastor felt the most sinful pleasure in defiling your sacredness. He wanted nothing but to take the heavenly thing you were and taint it with his darkness. 

He was well acquainted to torture and had no shame in inflicting the most delicious and depraved type of it on you ,until all of your holiness was irrevocably marked by him, down to the core of your soul.  Of course Alastor didn’t buy your soul. He didn’t need to use those means to completely own you. He did it effortlessly, because you craved it. Because he craved it.

That’s why the thought of Vox even looking in your way was heretic, and not in a good way. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing you to Vox. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing you. Period. You were his.

 But adding that man into the equation just made everything more intolerable. The things he would do if he found out about you… Found out that not only you were his but how you could make someone feel. How precious and undeserving of anything less than good you were… 

You were made to be cherished and protected. Protected by him.

 In fact, it took all of the Radio Demon’s willpower to restrain from walking to the Vees building, and kill Vox for something he didn’t do. Because Alastor wouldn’t allow the thought to even cross his mind. All that, a messy display of his desperation and loss of control. Giving that prick the smug satisfaction of knowing somehow he got to him, in his last moments. 

Damn, his rut truly did make him on edge.

Suppressing his murderous thoughts, Alastor focused his mind into something he as actually good at: torture. Yours specifically. He still wanted to punish you for making him feel like this. He still wanted to make you understand.

And he just thought of the sweetest way to do it.

-

After cleaning up the mess on the corridor, and yourself (you did it all on autopilot, still trying to understand what the FUCK happened) you still had to give Angel a satisfaction about why you didn’t come back. You must’ve looked really miserable cause Angel just hugged you really tight and ordered you to bed. When in reality all of your efforts were now focused on masking your humiliating arousal. So you find yourself lying in your bed, trying not to think anything Radio Demon related. You’re totally not thinking about the way he looked at you while he fucked you. The way his eyes would search yours in a crowded room, winking playfully at you. An inside joke. A promise.The way you both playfully banter at the dinner table over silly things. You are also totally not thinking about how he takes you, how you love to hear him saying “good girl” to you after you push your limits again, only for him. Not thinking at all about how his cock fills you so perfectly, you truly feel empty without it. Who’s thinking about what hides behind his eyes when he his voice goes all soft in the middle of a rough fucking? Ha ha!! Definitely not you. 

You punch yourself with your pillow. 

C’mon don’t think thoughts of Alastor now…

You are so fucked, and not in a sexy way. The worst part is that you want to endure it, you want to be good for him. Your pussy is aching to be touched, your mind begging you to have thoughts of Alastor while your pussy is being touched. But right now you would give everything in this world to hear him praise you again. You know how hard his rut is on him… He already carries a lot alone, the Hotel, the doomsday clock of extermination ticking closer and closer everyday. Plus the other things… You know there’s something more, something that haunts his nights, but it’s not your place to ask. Hell, you are too scared to ask. You just hope, you just pray that when it happens you are beside him. You don’t ever expect the Radio Demon to ever ask for help, or open up. Or seek comfort. Oh, he’s anything but comfortable. But you like to think that in time, he would feel comfortable enough around you he could let something slip, a tiny detail to add to your “The Mystery of the Radio Demon” clue board. Something that would let you show him he doesn’t need to pick himself apart, carry all these burdens alone.

Great, you are doing amazing at the “not thinking any Alastor thoughts” game. 

You hug your pillow closer and look across you window as you start saying out loud a list of things you need to do around the Hotel. Maybe this will take your mind off the devil.

Tend to the Venus Fly traps of the gardens. (You could ask Nifty for the bugs)

Write the thank you letters to the new guests that agreed to help with hotel chores.

Tell charlie about your book club idea using cool flashcards 

It’s your turn to organize “Theme nights”, maybe Alastor would enjoy a “great gatsby” theme, right?

Great, Alastor again. You sighed. 

Suddenly a red note written with perfect penmanship flies next to your spot on the bed.

“My darling doe, I’m waiting for you in my chambers.

Don’t take your time, we have much to discuss.-

Yours, Alastor.

You take your time, though, to thank anyone who’s listening as you sprint towards Alastor’s lavish room. You feel dizzy, anticipation like butterflies in your stomach. You don’t have to knock more than once for him to let you in. 

He’s on the edge of the bed, looking like his normal self (as normal as it gets for Alastor)

The taps the spot next to him on the the bed

“Come here, you darling thing!”

you don’t waste a second, and as quickly as you are sitting on his bed, you are sitting on lap. Holding you close, in a vice like grip with one of his arms, Alastor starts talking 

“How was the rest of your day, my dear?” you open your mouth to start talking, you have so much to say to him. That you were a good girl, that you were ready to do anything to make up for laughing at Angel’s stupid idea of seducing Vox. You are ready to beg for your release. to ask how his day was. But you don’t get to utter a word. 

Alastor quickly and swiftly maneuvers you: now your feet are dangling from the bed, your ass and  legs sprawled out across his lap. A powerful arm locking you to him by the small of your back.

Holy fuck.

“Well my day was downright awful! You see I overheard my pretty pet laughing at the prospect of seducing one of my most infuriating enemies. I’m in the peak of my unforgiving rut ,and all I wanted was the shared pleasure of our bodies as I fuck the darling thing senseless!” he pinches the back of your thigh, hard. You blur out a soft, desperate sigh. 

“Of course, the good girl she is, she went begging for my forgiveness. I didn’t fully give it, of course. That was a harsh offense, what my little doe did. But I did have my fill with her” You try to spea-

Alastor audibly shushes you.

“I did leave her all hot and bothered after spilling my cum all over her maddening little body, of course. I contenplated murdering the bastard demon so he wouldn’t get a chance of even knowing about her existence and what she does to me. But I still suffered with the hellish need of fucking her into oblivion, and pondered a lot about divine justice. So, if I had to suffer this entire day because of her offenses I think it’s only right for that darling doe to get her fill of suffering and punishment hmmmm?

 You try to look back to his face, but you feel the familiar sensation of magic wrapping around your throat. The leash, you are so so fucked. You couldn’t be happier about it.

He tugs at the chain, so your skirt rides up and your ass is totally bare for him and your head is buried in one of his fluffy pillows. With a snap of his fingers your panties disintegrate.

You shiver at the thought of what’s happening next, a delicious sensation that flows across your back and ends up inside your cunt, beginning to turn into a wet mess. He’s gonna spank you like the bad girl you were. He’s not going to be gentle about it either. You can’t wait. It’s gonna hurt, it’s gonna sting, it will leave you bruised. It will be deliciously wicked, like all of Alastor’s punishments. 

You feel another surge of magic, behind the powerful green glow something materializes.

Your horsegirl days back on earth don’t let you down. You recognise it instantly. On his previous free hand he’s holding a riding crop. A big, leather pointed riding crop. 

He’s going to literally whip you into submission. You squirm inside his arm. You can’t fucking wait. You’ve made yourself come a few times after the thought of being literally tamed, broke by alastor. 

You whimper. Alastor’s laugh fills the room.

“So this is how this is going to go, pet. I’m going to whip you lovely ass like the ungrateful slut you are and you are going to thank me for it after every crack of the whip. I’m gonna do this as many times as I see fit. Until your ass is as red as my hair. Until you understand what you did. By the time I’m done you will be begging to be punished more. Are we clear?

You can’t look back at him, but you can feel how his red irises make your skin burn. You like to imagine that his eyes did the thing where they soften for a heartbeat, if you blink you miss it. Waiting for your permission, even now. You are able to muffle a “yes, oh please Alastor, yes”. 

“Lovely.” 

crack.

He didn’t even gave you time to process. The whip lands hard on the back of your left thigh. You let out a scream.

“Well?” he asks impatiently as he waits for your “thank you”. Seeing the way the spot where the whip landed turn a lovely shade of scarlet isn’t helping him hold his resolve either.

You wanna do this right, you need this as much as he needs it.

“thank-”

crack. the whip lands on your right thigh, a little lower.

“tha-” 

crack.crack.

 He whips you even harder, cutting the wind as it lands twice on your left buttcheek. Only four cracks down and you are a whimpering mess. You wiggle instinctively on his lap, seeking some friction, some relief. It hurts so bad, but it feels so good. You don’t know if you can take more. You want it anyway. “thank you, thank you” you whimper. Tears wet your face, arousal wets your core adding to the mess from before he even started.

crack. crack.

 He mirrors his movements to your right buttcheek. “thank yo- Holy fuck Alastor”

one more hit, now hitting both of your buttcheks. 

“I’ve told you many times before pet, there’s nothing holy about what I do to you. I’m gonna break you and then breed you. I won’t give you a moment of respite. And maybe by the end, when your legs are shaking from holding that orgasm you have been desperately chasing since this afternoon, I will be merciful and let you find your release. And we will know who’s really losing control here”

How can he do this to you with only his voice? You are not sure you’ve ever been so aroused in your entire life. You’re so wet, you’re staining Alastor’s pants. As close as you will get to marking him.

There’s a draft coming from the forest of his room, it softly kisses your abused skin, making it sting. You want to see the state of your lower body so badly. The way you’re submitting to him right now, the most sweet form degradation possible. Your eyes are clouded with tears, that line between pain and pleasure being blurred in ways only someone like the Radio Demon could cross. He tugs on your leash, to attract your attention from the sinful, unholy sensations you are feeling so openly, back to him.

Alastor drags the leather point of the whip across your throbbing cunt, collecting the obscene amount of wetness there. “By the 7 rings of hell, what do you have here? Are you such a slut that you are creaming at being whipped into compliance? I could do this all night long. Your ass is already red with regret for your actions but I’m not sure you learned your lesson yet.”

crack. The whip this time lands on your juicy cunt. Your hips trash with the sensation, your demon lover’s name escaping your lips like a prayer.You forget to thank him this time, despite your best efforts. 

“Are you so big of an ungrateful brat that you want this sinful punishment to continue? Not even bothering to thank me, in hopes it will end sooner. You know what you are. Nothing but a hungry greedy whore for the Radio Demon” 

crack, crack. One hit on each cheek. “But I already knew that” and with that mocking tone Alastor lands a  masterful final hit on both of your cheeks. He does have a way of proving his point.

You are fucking sobbing now. Tears coat your cheeks, now a colour so vibrant as the rich scarlet the covers your ass. Alastor knows everything that makes you tick. He knows how close you are to cumming. Cumming for only his masterfully inflicted punishment and his voice. Incoherent whimpers leave your lips “please please please” and soft “ohh and aaah, alastor”

He tugs on your leash again, he knows your body like the palm of his hand, and that you are probably entering the mind numbing phase of the pain and the pleasure. But he still wants your undivided attention. He has whipped you into submission, he still needs to fuck you into submission. 

“And you even made the mess of yourself stain my pants! My god, you are pathetic. Delightfully pathetic” 

Alastor gently runs his clawed hands across your ass, the sharp edges making you hiss. He looks in adoration at the masterpiece he inflicted on you. Your ass and thighs a shade of scarlet to rival his hair, the wetness between your thighs a heavenly invitation. Beautiful. Sinful.  Sacred. He will never forget this, and he will make sure that you never forget it too.

“Now, now, we are done with this my little doe” his voice goes extra soft because you can’t see him with your face buried in a soft pillow. “you were so good for me, you always are” 

The softness and sweetness of his praise makes you sob even harder. It’s maddening. 

He gently maneuvers you further into the bed, making space for himself. 

“But now I’m painfully hard, and I still need to bury myself inside that tight throbbing cunt of yours, so deep it will mark. your. soul.” static picks up around you, a delicious omen of what is about to happen. 

Alastor positions himself behind you, immediately entering you and bottoming out. 

His first thrusts are sharp and deep, as to make his promise of marking yourself from the inside real. He pulls your chains so your scarlet ass is presenting itself to him like the most sinful gift. 

Alastor picks up that breakneck pace of fucking, common to him, specially during his rut. He fucks you like he hates you. As hard as he possibly can, to make you know that you are his and his only. That even thinking of someone else, even as a joke, will not be tolerated. You wanted all of him didn’t you? You’ve made that clear, with words, with actions, with the things your body endures for him. So he makes sure to give you that. 

Moans drip from your lips in a crescendo, you are screaming now, you don’t know how long you will last. It feels so good. That delayed gratification drowning you in maddening pleasure. 

“Who do you think is losing control here?” he asks after a painfully sharp thrust. “Me, or the mess of a slut underneath me? That is screaming my name loud enough for the entire pride ring to know how she loves being fucked like a common whore for the Radio Demon,hmm?” 

One hand pulls your leash upwards, the other your hips. He’s even deeper now, you can feel him in your core.

You don’t reply to the question even though you want to, even though you know the answer. 

“Again, since you like being bred like that so much you are not hearing me” he takes all of his cock out and enters you at once. “Who’s losing control here? Me, or my little plaything with the scarlet ass from being whipped into compliance like the pretty little brat she is?” 

You don’t forget to answer him now, you need to cum, desperately. You withheld your building orgasm  for an entire day, you wanted to be good for Alastor. You wanted to be able to take everything he gives you. The pleasure, the pain, the sinful, delicious depraved torture. “Me, I am!” you scream out. 

Alastor’s pace is becoming erratic, you feel the shadows of his growing antlers cover you.

“Again” he tugs at your collars. Another sharp, deep thrust. 

“Me, i’m losing control” 

“And what are you?” his voice is filled with static now, he’s close too.

“Yours! I’m yours Alastor, yours to fuck, to break, to punish” you cry out in sweet pain and pleasure. 

Another tug, Another painfully sharp thrust 

“I’m only yours Alastor” you finish. 

“Good. girl.” he spaces the words out between thrusts, knowing how you relish in them. 

“You can come now” 

Your orgasm comes crashing down. You grip the sheets like a maniac, your legs shaking so hard Alastor needs to hold them in place. You scream so loud you are sure they can hear you in heaven. You hope they can, so they know. So they know this man owns you. So they know you love him. 

Alastor is not far behind, your cunt tightening around him like a vice. He fucks you specially hard and deep know, delayed gratification hitting all at once. He cums so hard inside you, he’s sure he finally marked your soul. The feeling of his cock twitching and spilling inside you, adding to the indescriptible sensation. You are completely over the edge now, you feel weightless, free falling. 

You know Alastor will catch you.

“Ah! There she is” you open your eyes and feel a soft kiss on your cheek. You are lying on top of Alastor’s chest, he cuddles you gently, making lazy circles on your hipbone but still buried to the hilt inside you. He still plans to give you all of his cum, all he has during his rut,after all. 

“woah, that was… amazing” you say after a while.

“Well, I did whip and fuck you to the brink of insanity my dear. And you came so beautifully for me, you passed out. You’re such a sight pet. I will never forget it.” you blush at his words. You feel so happy. 

Alastor kisses your cheek again, and with a final thrust he leaves you with a obscenely wet noise. You are dripping with his cum, it’s running down your thighs, staining the sheets. 

You whimper in complaint. 

“Ah ,don’t be like that” he laughs, is a genuinely happy laugh. “There’s still plenty of where that came from, but I need my darling doe to rest first” he says. He’s lying you gently on the bed as he gets up. “Don’t leave” you whisper. 

He’s out of the bed anyways, and seems to be on his way to do something. You don’t care, you want him back here, holding you. You don't want him to ever let you go.

“Al, i’m truly sorry about today. You know that, right?” You know that I love you, right?  You want to say, but you are scared that confession is a little much for today. You see where he’s headed now. He opens the bathroom door.

“Don’t even think about it, my dear. It’s all water under the bridge” he says in his usual chirpy tone, louder than the noise of the bath running. “Now you just need to promise me that you will never even let the thought of that pathetic demon cross your mind, my love”

my love.

“And if he ever does, you will let me know. So I can fuck those wretched ideas out of your mind” Alastor is walking back to the bed now. He picks you up bridal style and carries you across the room. You can’t help the hiss that escape your lips as your irritated skin touches him. “I know, I know my dear. We will fix that right up. I can’t have my favourite doe hurting. We still have a long way to go until the end of my rut, dearest” you don’t reply, you are just happy. perfectly happy. You could hear Alastor’s voice for days without complaining. “But you did look so perfect with that scarlet ass on my lap. Crying from how much you love what I do to you. I hope you never forget that” 

You both reach the bathtub, he drops you with all the care in the world inside the water.

“I’m so proud of you. I truly am” the water is warm. The soap smells so nice. He lit candles too. You give in to the soothing sensations. You might have tuned out for a bit, cause you hear alastor calling your name so softly… He says it again, slow, soft, gentle, pleading. As to catch your attention, he has something important to say. “You know how precious you are to me, don’t you my little doe?” “yes” you respond, trying to fight the tears that begin to spill down your face ‘

“Oh my darling girl, why are you crying? There’s nothing to cry about. You are here, safe with me. As you will always be, as is your place.”

“Alastor I-I-” your heart swells, you want to say something. You want to say everything you are feeling. How consuming, in the best way possible, your feelings are for him.

But Alastor is always 10 steps ahead. 

“I know, I know darling” he kisses your hand “I feel it too.” he says. It feels like a confession, it sounds like a confession. The look on his eyes is the one of that mystery that hides there every time his voice in the midst of your passion. 

When you,know you know. your mind reiterates. 

“Let me help you dry those tears. Save them for another day” He holds your face and kiss your lips. “The only thing you need to worry about right now is resting and recovering that luscious body of yours, as well as your brilliant, witty mind”

He hands you a sparkly fancy pink soap, and gets up to find the softest sponge he has stored. 

“Now, I hope you like the smell of these candles, cause I’m not letting you out of my sight for at least the next four days!” 

Alastor continues to chat away sweet nothings as he helps you bathe. Maybe it will take a while for the Radio Demon to say those 4 words out loud. He has enough reason for that, inside that beautiful, complicated mind of his. His actions always speak louder than words, your relationship was proof of that. 

Until then, you will always have sacred moments in crowded rooms, you will always have jokes that only the both of you understand. He will always keep sweeping you off your feet in the most deliciously wicked ways possible. 

Right now, you have him by your side after everything that happened, you have his heart too. You are sure of that. So you don’t mind waiting for him.

Good things come for those who wait.

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

Good Omens graphic novel update: August 2024

This time last year, the Kickstarter was in full swing, what a journey it’s been since then! Colleen is still working hard to complete the graphic novel and we have some incredible pages to share with you.

There have been many merchandise updates in the past few months and whilst a number of backers told us they loved these, others wanted to hear more directly about the graphic novel itself. So, for this month we will focus 100% on Colleen’s work, and how the various editions of the book are coming along. Everything is shaping up rather nicely, if we do say so ourselves!

You may have seen some of the sneak peeks Colleen has posted recently, such as this wonderful scene between our heroes:

And our favourite angel and demon on the road.

Collen has recently shared a rare view from her drawing board with us. "Working on pages 75 pages apart at the same time" she explains. The joy for us is that these pages arrive similarly out of order, so the graphic novel is unfurling like a magnificent jigsaw.

The reversible alternative covers by Rachael Stott and Frank Quitely are coming together beautifully. Different vibes, both ‘heavenly’ and we’re delighted to share them with you:

Moving inside. Here's an introduction to your introduction: our favourites include: Dog: Satanical hellhound and cat-worrier. Everyone should have one!

With the pencils mapping out the story almost completely in place, here are some samples from across the book – don’t worry we’re not giving too much away. It is always interesting to see these images come in, then watch them evolve over time

As we enter the latter stages of inking and colouring, we're also getting glorious new artwork by the bucketload. Colleen has been working diligently and it’s simply wonderful to see the story coming to life so vibrantly.

We shared this a few updates ago in its inked form. Now here it is in full glass-shattering colour.

A jaunty moustache and some 'definitely not-bad-news' being delivered in the middle of a birthday party.

A prior inked piece we shared before. Crowley venting his frustrations, oh so subtly.

And here's a closer look at some of the Horsemen in situ.

...of course you must also have some snippets of Aziraphale and Crowley having a fine time with books and wine.

And this rather lovely panel ends the previews of our main duo for this update.

But one final thing before we leave our heroes for this month... feast your eyes on this absolutely gorgeous celestial piece.

And now to the admin.

If you have a query, please check the Good Omens graphic novel FAQ page at terrypratchett.com. Some key recurring questions:

The Good Omens graphic novel was listed to publish in July 2024 - why have I not received it? We shared an update on April 16th 2024 introducing the new timeline and full context on why dates had to be moved. You can read that here. We appreciate that some didn't catch the timeline update and had been expecting items to arrive across July and August - the graphic novel and surrounding items are due to arrive in Spring 2025 to align with the new publication date. Thank you for your patience. We promise that it will be worth the wait!  

I've been in touch with a query about my pledge but have not heard back - what should I do? We have been dealing with a significantly increased number of messages recently and our team are working through them as best we can. If you have messaged over a week ago and are yet to hear back, please get in touch again, either via the message thread on Kickstarter or your previous email chain. Rest assured, we are reading and working through all messages as quickly as we can and appreciate your patience.

If your question is not answered in the FAQ, please don't hesitate to contact us and we can get back to you as soon as possible.

Events

We announced in our June update that Crowley's S2 Bentley would be appearing at ACME Comic Con in Glasgow. Unfortunately, our team will no longer be attending, so the Bentley will not appear at this event. We wanted to let you know as soon as possible in case you have booked tickets expressly to see it, or to meet the Good Omens HQ team. Maggie Service is also no longer attending the event, however Quelin Sepulveda, our beloved Muriel, is still appearing on the Saturday, and there are many filming locations around the central belt of Scotland if you are visiting, so you can still make your trip a little more ineffable. We apologise for any disruption to your plans.

Colleen has also had to cancel her appearance at the upcoming DragonCon, as she explains here.

[hotpinkboots]

~~~~~

~"𝓡𝓮𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓼𝓪𝓵𝓼"~

(Erik Destler x Fem!Reader Fluff)

Summary: Erik had intended to assist you in rehearsing for the next performance. He soon finds he cannot be near you for long without melting in your mere presence.

Warning(s): It is mentioned that the actor the Reader must perform with is perverted (Erik isn't having that dw)

How long it took to write: 4 Hours

~~~~~

The orchestra thundered from above the Phantom's lair, muffled, but loud enough for you and your lover to feel and hear. The world had stopped spinning, this moment in time was the only moment that had ever existed- it felt as though the world had been created just for the two of you. You danced across the floor with the Opera Ghost, Erik, of whose name only was allowed to grace your ears, and to be silenced and secret from all others.

Erik had insisted that he lead your dance rehearsals for this Opera, for seeing you dance lovingly with another man filled his chest with a fit of restricting jealousy so hot that it burned like wildfire. His fury was only heightened further when he had spotted the man earlier, staring at you in a perverted manner just as he had stared at all the other women. Erik would not allow you to be touched by the man longer than you had to on stage.

There was not much room to dance, but it sufficed. Anytime you'd knock a lit candle over, he'd catch the candelabra with a nimble hand without needing to tear his gaze away from your sweet features. His gloved hands guided your movements knowingly, for he had an excellent memory that allowed him to memorize and understand a dance in only a few practices.

After rehearsing the dance three times, Erik had decided he'd grown bored of it. The dramatic steps faded into a basic gentle box step. Erik's gloved hand lifted to smooth back the frizzed baby hairs on your hairline. He leaned in to press his warm lips against your forehead, allowing the kiss to linger. He turned his head to rest his left cheek atop your head. "You dance beautifully. Like an angel."

Your Phantom had compared you to the most heavenly of angels countless times. Although you may have gotten used to it with how often he repeated it, it never lost meaning for him. The masked gentleman truly found you to be the most divine of all. You were his angel, his goddess, his salvation.

You returned his affections by gliding the pads of your fingers tenderly up and down the back of his neck. He suppressed a shudder at the feel of your loving fingertips. How touch-starved he was to shudder at a simple caress. "Thank you," you accepted his sweet compliment humbly, a smile gracing your lips.

~~~~~

Request Guidelines!

Join my Discord Server! Here, you can get updates on my fanfiction, roleplay with the other server members, and participate in fun group activities like movie nights and challenges!:

~~~~~

~Love, PinkBoots

[nyoomerr]

Just months before the Immortal Alliance Conference, Luo Binghe discovers the cure to Without-a-Cure. With his own heritage still sealed and mostly unknown to him, there seems to be only one solution: Shen Qingqiu must receive the cure from the last known Heavenly Demon, Tianlang-Jun, even if it means that Luo Binghe has to grit his teeth and set his precious Shizun up with another man. Shen Qingqiu does not want to receive the cure from Tianlang-Jun. He doesn't particularly want to receive anything from Tianlang-Jun. Shen Qingqiu somehow ends up fake-dating Tianlang-Jun anyway, if only to swindle the System into delaying the Endless Abyss plot for as long as he can.

🌹 bingqiu 🌹 no-abyss AU, misunderstandings, light-hearted 🌹 lbh tries to get his shizun medicinally laid 🌹 10k, 1/5 chapters, updating weekly!

i've finally completed my FTH fic! everybody say thank you to the wonderful @/mock-arts, who prompted this fic and was then very patient with me as i took half a year to write it. i hope you all enjoy!

[queerstake]

Good morning, Queerstake! Thank you to everyone joining us for our community fast and letter writing campaign in response to the 2024 Church Handbook update with regards to transgender people. The policy update has shaken all of us. It is exclusionary and degrading. But we will find strength in each other as a community and courage in our efforts to effect change in this church that belongs not only to the General Authorities who authorized this policy update but also to all of us. Change in the Church happens from the ground up. Harmful policies have been issued and redacted before in our own lifetimes! We deserve to be treated with respect.

Today, we will fast together as a community that the Lord softens the hearts of the First Presidency. We will also write and send letters expressing our grief. Please don’t be quiet about your feelings today. Share your heartbreak with as many of your fellow ward and Queerstake members as you feel comfortable doing. Please post your feelings as well so we can inspire and uplift each other as we write our letters. It’s important that our grievances are heard.

Please send physical letters to:

The Office of the First Presidency

47 East South Temple Street

Salt Lake City, UT 84150

If you are unable to send a paper letter to Salt Lake, because I was not able to find an appropriate email, please instead email your letters to me at QUEERSTAKEONTUMBLR@GMAIL.COM. I’ll print and mail them myself.

Edit: @nerdygaymormon found an email address! Please feel free to send email to lgbt@churchofjesuschrist.org. However, you are still more than welcome to send them to me to print. In fact, why not do both!

A quick word of caution: Of course, no one can guarantee the type of responses we might receive for these letters. In fact, I urge you to consider using a pseudonym in order to avoid potential church discipline. Please take care to note what legal name or return address might be associated with your membership records. I don’t want to scare anyone, especially because we’re doing nothing wrong, but it’s always good to be very aware of what might make it back to your bishop.

Thank you again to everyone for joining. I’ve always felt so supported and uplifted by Queerstake. I know that our Heavenly Parents love us just as we are and that they don’t want us excluded and humiliated in our wards. We have unique and valuable testimonies to share. We don’t go unheard by our Heavenly Parents.

I’ve included a few sample letters and templates below the cut for people who might need a shortcut for one reason or another. You are welcome to send them verbatim or modify them.

#1

Dear First Presidency,

I'm writing to express my grief and concern over the 2024 handbook policy update on transgender people.

I believe that Christ invites all to come unto him and that as Christ's church, we have a responsibility to embrace people from all walks of life. No other demographic within the church is being treated with such severity as our transgender siblings under this new policy. I fear our transgender siblings in Christ will feel excluded and degraded, and we will lose many great members.

I believe it's of the utmost importance that we express Christlike love and charity even to people we don't understand. There is no excuse for asking transgender youth to leave activities with their peers as though they are a danger. There is no excuse for not allowing transgender people to work with children or humiliating them in our bathrooms. This is a demographic of people who have suffered in our society and Christ would want us to reach out to them with open arms. I humbly and respectfully ask that you reconsider these policy changes with regards to the doctrine of unconditional love that the church espouses. I beg you to consider the church experience of our transgender siblings in Christ and to prioritize their feelings over the feelings of people that wish to hurt them.

Thank you for your time.

#2

Dear First Presidency,

I feel deeply grieved by the Handbook update on transgender people. As a transgender member myself, I am doing everything I can to remain in the church and exclusionary policies like these make me feel deeply unwanted and deeply unloved.

I understand very well the church's position on gender, but I hope that despite that position that I might still be able to feel Christ's love at church. Our Heavenly Parents put me on this or Earth as a transgender person. I am not a danger to children and I am not a predator in bathrooms. I am your sibling in Christ. I want to serve in church. I want to serve in teaching positions. I want to serve the youth. I believe that we attend church with the purpose of uplifting each other and studying our religion together as a ward family. I want to be edified and I want to edify.

President Hinckley said every member needs a calling, a friend, and the word of God, and if I'm treated this way at church, I'm not receiving any of those things. If I can't have a real role to play within my ward, then I have no responsibility. If I am treated as an outsider and an enemy and a predator by policy and by my fellow church members, then I don't have a friend. If I can't also receive Christ's gospel through the love of the people around me, then I'm not receiving the real word of the Lord.

I seriously urge you to reconsider this policy update. I beg you on behalf of myself and my transgender siblings in the church to not hate us and to not exclude us.

Thank you for your time.

#3

Dear First Presidency,

I felt ______ when I heard about the new policy update to the handbook about transgender individuals. I believe we should treat our transgender members with the love and respect they deserve as our siblings in Christ.

I urge you to reconsider this policy update because ______

Thank you for your time.

#4

Dear Leadership of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints,

I'm writing to express my grief and concern over the 2024 handbook policy update on transgender people, which I have been made aware of due to the negative impact it is having on my [friend(s)/family/loved ones].

The reputation of love, kindness, and family values that your church fosters with its programs, teachings, and community outreach is undermined by your continued exclusion of LGBT+ members and specifically with this policy change of your transgender members.

My [friend(s)/family/loved ones] have expressed _____ in regards to the August 19, 2024 changes to the handbook that relegate transgender members of your church to second-class citizens within the organization, and deny them the full capacity of worship and belonging within your church; all because of something so insignificant to their capacity to worship and belong to a community as their gender being different than the gender that they were assigned at birth. This decision _____ me/ negatively impacts my view of your church.

Thank you for your time.

I believe that there is no excuse for asking transgender youth to leave activities with their peers as though they are a danger. There is no excuse for not allowing transgender people to work with children or humiliating them in your bathrooms. This is a demographic of people who have suffered in our society and I believe that every person needs to reach out to them with open arms. I respectfully ask that you reconsider these policy changes with regards to the doctrine of unconditional love that the church espouses. I beg you to consider the church experience of your transgender members and to prioritize their feelings over the feelings of people that wish to hurt them.

[orteil42]

i've just published a new mobile Cookie Clicker update! still only an alpha update, but it's a pretty beefy one. notably featuring this guy:

full update notes:

this patch brings the alpha's heavenly upgrades count to 89, up from 25 in the live version. before i can truly consider this update done i still need to add the cookie dragon and polish the new UI graphics. as always you can send your feedback and bug reports in my asks or on our discord server's dedicated channel.

thank you for all your support in 2023! here's hoping i can finish this update early next year so i can move on to Extremely Wacky Projects

[trulyumai]

Oh, Mr. Mosses (Series!) IV

Synopsis: You were fine with the job, the steps were easy enough but the secret  of the D.D.D was getting harder and harder to contain. Each night a new entity would enter the building, each with its own horrific look and intentions. Just as you debate on leaving, a new resident has entered the premises; Francis Mosses who is absolutely entranced by your being. Now, his Mimic has taken a liking to you too.

Will you be as smitten of them as they are of you? Only time will tell.

Author Note: Thank you everyone for enjoying the story, its honestly so fun to write I wish i could update even quicker! If it wasn't for uni i most likely would be. Hope you enjoy the new chapter!

Warnings: Blood, Obsessive behavior, Stalking, Talk about Death

Also available on AO3!

Taglist: @tfamidoingwithmylife @mariaflor873 @fandomfeind @greycloudsy @skully-skeleton-bone0106 @im-here-for-the-fun-of-it @the-tiger-lover78 (Let me know if you want to be added!)

Oh, Mr. Mosses IV

She felt awful, guilt struck through her bones like a heavy fog. The rain hadn’t stopped since the night before, the weather matched her dreary mood and she couldn't help but wither away in bed for most of the day, staring blankly at the popcorn-like ceiling. It would be her fault if someone were to die. She let him in, purposefully let the man walk in without a second thought or action. Frustrated, she grabbed the pillow beside her, throwing it across the room with a defeated huff. 

Her shift started tomorrow night, 5:00 on the dot. Grabbing the sides of her head she glanced toward the window, gray skies filled her vision before she threw herself back onto the duvet.

She saw him when she closed her eyes. That egotistical grin, those sharp teeth- the hands, how they planted themselves around her face like they belonged there. 

That day she uttered nothing to management, passed her employee with only a glance and hadn't been down since the incident. Had she even eaten? She couldn't remember, only lingering tastes of the metallic blood entered her taste buds, as if that monster's finger was still being forced down her throat. 

Holding back a gag she reached toward her nightstand, pulling out a pink and white pill case. Squinting at it she found two clear sleeping pills. 

“This should do the trick,” she mumbled, carelessly popping them in her mouth before hastily reaching for a bottle of water by her bedside. There was no way she could sleep on her own, at least not for tonight 

  ───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Pillows were kicked and strewn about the floor, blankets were haphazardly beside her and hanging limply on the mattress. She didn't seem to notice the mess, with her arms by her sides and hair splayed out on the pillow, she snored lightly, blocking out the rain that beated across her window, blocking out the man who stood just above her side of the bed. Wide, black eyes stared down at her. Unblinking they shuffled closer, stepping over a pair of pink slippers thrown haphazardly on the floor. His grin took over most of his face, sharp teeth on display with red stains on his lips. He'd been busy since his arrival, picking apart her neighbor while she slept so soundly. So heavenly. He groaned, letting his blood covered fingers linger on her neck, before descending up towards her face. Pressing his fingers harder until little red dots were smudged across her cheeks. Mr. Capriannis’s blood. 

Cackling quietly to himself he bent down, just so his nose grazed hers. Lightly his warm breath dusted across her face, and even in her sleep she moved away from the man, groaning lightly as she turned her head to face the window. 

“I'll see you tonight, pretty girl,” if he wasn't so hungry, he would have decided to stay, maybe try to get in a few more touches. A few bites. But his urge to kill was getting overwhelming, he had to grind his teeth to stay focused. Light drops of blood began to seep from his mouth, his teeth had seemed to jabbed his lips from the harsh movements and it dribbled down, falling onto the unconscious girl below. The liquid plopped down on her neck, where it smeared and marked the area with its contrasting color. Deciding to leave it there he laughed once more. 

Maybe he’ll pay another neighbor a visit. 

  ───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Francis slept terribly. This weather was downright awful, made his life a complete hell and who orders milk on days like this? Mumbling to himself he looked for his hat, it wasn't on its usual hook by the door, which he thought was quite strange. 

Sure, he came home later than usual, his bike route hindered by the many puddles in his path, but he always managed to stay tidy, stay neat. He looked everywhere! The hook, the closet, his bed, the little bathroom and even his poor excuse of a kitchen. It was completely gone and out of sight. Starting to panic he brushed his hair back with one hand, letting it linger while he tried to backtrack. Getting in the prior night he noticed the receptionist was off  of work already, he sighed at the other co worker before delving into the elevator. He knew he had his hat with him, and remembered bunching it up in worry over the little pretty receptionist. 

Frustrated enough, he grabbed his dress shoes. He supposed he would have to look once more after his route. 

  ───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

“There you are 29! Right on time, listen, the boss wants a double shift on schedule, I know it's a little sudden but who are we to say no, right?” The other coworker smiled, it was big, a fake facade made to comfort the already exhausted girl. 

She stood there, arms bunched at her sides as she picked at the sweater littering around her hands. 

“Yeah, I got the message about that this morning.” 

Walking past she slid her ID down the door, checking in for another shift. Waving at the fleeting man she closed the door, rubbing her hands after. It was obvious she was nervous, the backroom didn't feel safe anymore with that thing wandering around. Just before she clocked in she had scanned the building, looking, waiting to see if she saw anything out of the ordinary. 

She didn't. 

Saw nothing, heard nothing. The only thing she noticed was this god awful smell coming from the second floor. Mr. Capriannis must be attempting to make fish again. 

She decided to make a coffee and settle her nerves. Walking quickly she grabbed her favorite mug; a green ceramic cup with frogs all over the handle. 

It was then she noticed she didn't feel quite alone. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, she felt heavy and sweaty, and she could have sworn she kept seeing shadows move from the corner of her eyes. Tapping her fingers against her now filled mug she walked carefully to the desk, where the newly laid schedule stared back at her. 

Only Two people left to check in tonight 

She missed Francis.

  ───────── ౨ৎ ───────── 

Reading through the forms she was sure to check it over at least three times each. Writing down the numbers just in case to ensure everyone's safety. 

Robertsky Peachman 114652289730 Checked in 7:23

-

Dr. W. Afton 250489656214 Checked in 7:45

-

Calling both lines, they were indeed not at the residency, so without pause she handled them separately, allowing them one at a time to step into the premise. 

Before Mr. Peachman left however, he eyed the woman as he bundled up his forms. 

“Oh my, what happened!” He exclaimed, pointing to the column of his throat.

“Your neck, dear, it's bleeding!” Reaching up she touched the base of her throat, her hands met a dry, patchy blotch along her skin. Removing her fingers, she realized he was right; dried blood laid on the tip of her index. 

Throat dry she attempted to lick her lips, thinking about what she did this morning to protrude such an injury.

“Here, here, use my napkin, it looks to be dried over,” With a helping hand he laid his handkerchief through the slot, giving the woman a smile. 

“I- thank you, Mr. Peachman. I don't even remember getting this,” Scratching it against the soft fiber it came off, however something looked… different. 

The blood was thick, almost a reddish black against the cotton. 

“You can keep it, just in case it reopens, I'll see you tomorrow evening little lady!”

With a toothy smile he was off, already pushing the third button on the elevator. 

Yawning, the receptionist began to organize the files around her; everything laid strewn about with her double and triple checking everyone’s forms. 

Knock. 

Knock. 

Knock. 

Halting her movements she tore her eyes away from the cabinet, to the window across. 

It was the employee, the one who had the shift right before her. His eyes were wide, full of anger and his movements were quick. He banged his fist beside the glass, letting out ragged, desperate breaths. 

“What the fuck, 29?!” 

Standing up she shuffled back, grazing her shoulders on the cabinets behind her. 

“I know what you did, you dumb bitch! I saw the footage!”

“28, Please I- I didn't know! I was just trying to-”

He banged his fist once more, “Im calling the D.D.D, They’ll dispose of both of your fucking asses!” Gripping the ID dangling from his neck he ripped it off, walking towards the door that separated them both. 

With quick and desperate movements she ran to the door, pushing the chain lock just across the wood  to halt the man. 

It slammed against the metal, she could see part of him through the slit left open. 

“Let me in! Don't mess this up 29, people will die!”“So I should just let you expose me? So can I be another body thrown in a bag?!” Beating harshly on the door she could see the chain was weakening. One more strong shove and he'd be through. And then what? She’d not only be out of a job, but a place to stay, and who knows if they would let her live after the mistake she made?

That's when she heard it, the slow, dramatic clapping of someone's hands. 

Craning her neck back as best as she could while still maintaining a grip on the door, she gasped audibly. 

There he was; the cause of all her problems. The milkman in disguise. 

“This has been quite entertaining sweetheart, but how much longer are you gonna keep this man around, huh?” Tilting his head to the side he let out a breath of air. 

“I could take care of him, you know. Save you the trouble,” Squinting his eyes he picked at his teeth, the sharp nails dug out chunks of flesh he flicked to the side. 

“No!” She seethed. 

“No one has to die.” Pushing her back against the door once more, she used as much strength she could possibly gather. 

“Aw,” He teased, shaking his head side to side, dragging his dried bloody finger on the wall. 

“You actually believe that, don't you sweet thing?”

Sweat began to build up on her forehead, running down in clear, sticky beads. 

She was going to die. If not by the thing in front of her, then the man busting through the door she was trying so hard to guard. 

Would it be so bad if she had his help? 

What on earth was she saying?! Of course it would be! 

The mimic stepped closer, just until his feet were planted in front of hers, looking straight down at her worried filled orbs. 

“Let me kill for you,” he begged.

Bending his knees he put his hands together, in a praying-like stance. 

“Please, let me help you.”

His eyes were warm somehow, his pupils seemed to be dilated, staring right up at the desperate woman. 

Feeling not only weak from holding the door, but to have this… creature beg to help her, she softened her hold. 

“Okay,” She whispered, staring right back at him as he slowly leaned his arm forward to grab her jaw.

He looked ecstatic, truly happy with her answer and- mesmerized? 

“Don't you worry bout a thing pretty girl,  I'll handle big bad 28 for you,”

Leaning closer once more, he let his face get merely inches from hers. The smell of iron hit her, it wafted across her face contaminating each breath she let in. 

“But you'll owe me one, got it?”

Dumbly nodding her head she relaxed her eyes, she was feeling awfully tired from everything. A wave of exhaustion hit her bones, numbing her mind as her vision began to blur. 

Before the darkness spread over her eyelids she thought of one thing.

A tired raven haired man with his little smile.

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Heavenly Kind of State of Mind - Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

summary: Bradley takes you out to thank you for taking care of him when he broke his nose. He didn't expect dinner to turn into something else.

pairing: baseball!Bradley x reader (Angel)

warnings/content: depictions of broken nose, Bradley being a manwh*re, sexual references, fluff, awkward first date.

word count: 2.3k

taglist (also tagging those who were interested in Take One For The Team since it's a similar vibe and explains the lack of updates lol): @avengersfan25, @jessicab1991, @atarmychick007, @b-bradshaw, @nouis-bum, @mamachasesmayhem, @floydsmuse, @kmc1989, @dckweed, @katfanfic, @nerdgirljen, @whatislovevavy, @mrsevans90, @averyhotchner, @yuckosworld, @tgmreader, @allepaula, @lourd-ita, @mariaenchanted @sorchathered, @sarahsmi13s, @hangmansgbaby, @djs8891 @primroseluna @silversprings-mp3 @drxgxnslxyer @gardenavenue @seitmai @unhinged-bitch @mattyskies

Bradley wasn’t the dating type.

At least, that’s what he told himself on the drive over to the San Diego pier. 

As Bradley crossed the bridge from quiet, serene Coronado into the bustling downtown core, he tapped his hand against the steering wheel, nervously drumming the beat to a classic rock song. He pulled up into a parking space, looking around the parking lot for your obnoxious little car with its pink interior that he’d been thinking about since you took him to get his nose checked out. The break had healed nicely, unable to tell that two weeks prior, his nose had met with the fist of a grown man. Bradley sighed as he realized you weren’t here yet, adjusting his sunglasses in his rearview mirror. 

He didn’t date. 

It wasn’t his thing. 

The awkward small talk. The painful silences. The uncomfortable stage where you waited to see how the other person wanted to proceed, all for it to fall apart in the end anyway. He knew dates were just a stop gap to heartbreak. He was the expert, in fact. In the years since his marriage fell apart, he’d skipped dating all-together, resolving himself to one night stands and quick hookups as a means of bypassing the inevitable heartache he’d be faced with if he’d gone the dating route. 

After his marriage, he didn’t know what he wanted. He’d wanted kids, he thought, but then again, kids meant his career got less focus. Kids meant he’d have one of two choices — retire and become a picture-perfect dad, working a normal career and being the doting husband and father he knew he’d want to be, or, stay playing baseball, continue his dedication to his career, and always feel guilty for not being home, fielding the upset accusations of his wife, telling him he was doing it as an escape, running from his responsibilities. 

Being alone gave him freedom. It gave him the ability to further his career and focus his attention on whatever the fuck he wanted. And he liked it that way. 

However, despite his best efforts, he couldn’t stop you from occupy every thought that he had over the past two weeks. Being unable to play didn’t help — doctor’s orders had him benched for two weeks until his nose had healed. 

He’d attended practices, worked out at the gym a few extra times for good measure, and even took a guest spot in the commentator booth for a game over the past fourteen days to keep himself busy, but he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about you. 

Every time he thought he was comfortably distracted, focused on something else, his brain would circle back around, coming back to you each and every time.

It was exhausting.

He tried so hard to push it off. Too hard, in fact. As he sat in his Bronco, hands still drumming on the steering wheel as he listened to the radio, now blaring The Beach Boys through his car, he hummed along to the familiar tune, hoping that it would provide him a little reprieve from the all-encompassing thoughts of you. 

Just as he closed his eyes, letting his imagination take him to the beach, walking across the warm sand, cool waves lapping at his feet as he stepped towards the ocean, he heard a gentle tapping on his window. Snapping back to reality, his eyelids fluttered, eyes opening wide as he spotted you gently tapping your knuckles against the window. 

He turned the car off, pulling the keys out of the ignition and stuffing them into his pocket as he hopped out of the driver’s seat. Your warm, friendly smile was enough to make him weak in the knees and he could barely keep himself together when he saw you standing there in that sweet, pretty little sundress you were wearing. He just hoped that his light-washed denim jeans didn’t betray him and give away how tight they were getting.

“Thanks for inviting me out,” you smiled as you looked at Bradley, hand raised to gesture at his healing nose, “Looks like you healed up nicely, Bradshaw.” 

“Not having baseballs flying at my face for the last two weeks might have helped. Stayed out of bars too, wasn’t about to risk having another drunken baseball fan taking swings at me.”

“You just didn’t want to lose another bar fight, did you?” you teased, pursing your lips as you looked around at the pier. 

“There’s like four different restaurants here, I figured I’d let you take your pick. Reservations aren’t an issue,” Bradley explained calmly, giving his head a gentle nod as he surveyed the parking lot. 

“Wow, you have that much influence here? Aren’t they used to pro-athletes?”

“That’s not what I meant. I made reservations at all four. Just in case.”

“Wow, never had you pegged as a people pleaser, Bradley. I’m impressed.”

“I’m not,” he replied stubbornly, shaking his head. “I just didn’t want to pick something and find out you were deathly allergic to seafood or something. Killing you with a food allergy didn’t seem like an appropriate way to thank you for helping me the other night.”

“You’re right, unexpectedly poisoning me doesn’t sound like a good thank you. You’re in luck though, no food allergies.”

Bradley let out a sigh and looked around again, looking more vulnerable than ever. He looked uncomfortable, nervous even, and you couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.

“Steak?” You hummed, raising an eyebrow as you tried to break any tension between you. “I could go for steak.”

“Steak works,” he grumbled, nodding his head. He leaned in towards you, his lips just milimeters from your ear as he whispered softly, trying to be as quiet as possible before being spotted. 

“Photographers are over there, they’re gonna want to snap a few photos of us. Are you ok with that? We can either play it up or downplay it. Up to you. I can always walk in ahead of you if you don’t want the attention.”

You felt your breath hitch in your throat as he whispered into your ear, the hairs on the back of your neck standing at full attention. Craning your neck to look above his shoulder, you spotted a white Escalade with a short, weasel of a man sitting in the front seat, camera poised and ready to capture a shot. Your eyes flitted back to Bradley as you nodded your head. 

“Give them a show,” you nodded, granting him permission to play up the dinner, “Maybe it’ll help stop people from watching you for a reaction now that your ex’s upcoming nuptials are plastered over every glossy magazine there is. I can’t even read Cosmo without seeing her—” 

Bradley grumbled something at you, interrupting your ramble. He took you by the hand and nodded his head, looking back over his shoulder towards the camera before his gaze landed on you once again. Before a word was spoken between the two of you, Bradley’s large hand was on the small of your back, pulling your body in against his. Lips pressed together, you felt your body melt back into his hand. 

Although you’d never admit it to his face, you’d thought about kissing Bradley Bradshaw’s lips over and over and over again since you met him two weeks ago. You’d thought a lot about Bradley, more than you’d care to admit. You thought about those large hands of his, picturing his rough, calloused palms cupping at your tits, feeling their weight as he gently squeezed at them. You’d pictured his lips on your skin, soft and slow, pressing hot kisses over every inch of exposed flesh, unable to keep his hands and mouth off of your body. 

Bradley Bradshaw had you tangled up in a crush that rivalled the ones you’d held in high school. And weirdly — you found yourself refusing to give it up. Since that night you dropped him off to get his nose examined, bloodied and battered and vulnerable in the passenger seat of your car - you’d been completely head over heels for him, whether you liked it or not. 

As Bradley’s calloused hand held yours, enveloping it in his large fingers, his expression softened, lips forming into a gentle smile. The two of you walked hand in hand towards the restaurant, with Bradley giving his name to the hostess as he approached. He gave another glance towards the photographer behind him, furiously snapping photographs from the seat of his car, headlines practically writing themselves in his eyes as he watched Bradley closely.

Bradley didn’t want to admit it, but you agreeing to give the press a little show was helping his career more than anything - appearing to be on a genuine date would help quell the rumours about his long-storied sexual escapades since his highly publicized divorce. 

When his marriage crumbled, he went through a series of bad decisions. His temper was already the stuff of legends in the game, with stories about locker room fights and fines for unsportsmanlike conduct, but those rumours proved true when his life began to fall apart around him. He’d been caught, on more than one occasion, with a pretty blonde in a compromising position with him. Dancing in bars, drunken stumbles in hotel lobbies, walks of shame the following morning. He’d earned the nickname Bradley “Hit-It-And-Quit-It” Bradshaw for crying out loud, and while it wasn’t something he was proud of, it sure wasn’t something he chose to dispute either. 

As Bradley tucked your chair in, he leaned down to whisper in your ear once again, his hand resting gently on your shoulder as he spoke. 

“Let me know if this gets uncomfortable for you,” he nodded slowly.

“Mhmm,” you hummed, shivers running up and down your spine. 

Bradley took the seat across from you, smiling politely at the waitress as she took your drink orders. Moments later, his hand wrapped around his beer glass, raising it to his lips as he took a long sip, the frothy head brushing against his mustache as the liquid passed his lips. He watched as you looked out at the pier, eyes gazing at the sunset over the horizon, the sky painted shades of pink and orange. 

“It’s nice view sitting here, isn’t it?” Bradley nodded in agreement as he spoke. “It’s my favourite. I haven’t come in a while though.”

An awkward silence washed over you both. 

The kind of silence that reminded Bradley why he hated dating.

An uncomfortable pause later, Bradley cleared his throat, nodding his head towards you as he forced an uneasy smile. You looked back at him, sensing his discomfort and wanting to smooth the tension as best as you could, you said the only thing that came to mind as a safe topic of discussion.

“Are you ready for the game tomorrow?” 

“Hmm? Yeah, yeah,” he nodded casually, sipping his drink. “I’m excited to be back on the roster. Did you hear the excuse they came up with for how I broke my nose? PR said a bar brawl wasn’t a good look, so they said I did it during practice.” He scoffed, laughing softly. 

“Practice? What’s the story they came up with?”

“Mhmm, said I missed a rogue line drive, caught it with my nose instead of my glove.”

You shook your head and laughed, cocking a manicured eyebrow up at Bradley as he spoke. Another awkward pause hung in the air as you took a sip from your wine glass. Your eyes drifted back to Bradley, sensing his nerves.

“Alright, enough of this,” you laughed, shaking your head, “Why do they call you Rooster?”

Bradley’s eyes went wide as he set his drink glass down on the table. His dark brown eyebrows raised in surprise as he looked at you. A strained laugh escaped his parted lips, his dark brown curls moving as he shook his head. 

“It’s not exactly dinner conversation,” he said simply.

“What—you’re joking,” you retorted with an incredulous laugh. “There’s no way.”

“‘Fraid so. Rooster Bradshaw. It’s not because I’m up early for practice every day.”

“It’s because you’ve got a big—”

“Not at dinner,” Bradley warned, shaking his head.

“So, the whole, you know,” you frowned slightly as you thought over how to word your inquiry, your voice dropping down to a whisper, “Bradley-hit-it-and-quit-it-Bradshaw thing, that’s connected to it?”

“Unfortunately,” Bradley grumbled, shaking his head, “It’s not something I’m proud of.”

Another awkward moment passed, the clinging of silverware against a dish was the only sound emitted from the two of you as you sat there. Between bites of steak and sips of wine, the odd question would slip out, basic small talk that no one enjoyed on dates, facts about the two of you that weren’t important to anyone. You had to remind yourself at several points that this was never a date - it was never intended to be. It was a thank-you. A half-hearted gesture of kindness from Bradley in exchange for you not running to the papers about his bar-room brawl and his broken nose. A gesture of thanks for not fuelling the already tainted reputation he had for himself. 

Between the breakdown of Bradley’s marriage, his subesquent outbursts that he was prone to devolve into at any time on and off the field, the heated locker room exchanges that got him traded between teams, and the now infamous, and probably over-dramatized accounts of his sexual conquests, his life was falling apart around him. You keeping his broken nose a secret was the first kind-hearted gesture anyone had made towards him in he didn’t know how long. 

All Bradley knew was, despite the clumsy awkwardness, the silences and pauses, the uncomfortable pressure he was putting on himself despite reminding himself it wasn’t a date. Bradley was left wondering. 

Maybe he wished it was.