#we ain't goin back to that

[babyeater29]

"Remember your old twitter account?"

NOPE‼️

[bayofwolves]

revisiting my marvel phase and finding out where things are now makes me glad i stopped at endgame

[grugruel]

Your daddy know 'bout this?

(Don't be fooled, there's no daddy kink!)

Pairings: dbf!cowboy!bucky x f!reader

MDNI/NSFW

Masterlist

Summary: A few days short of your 21st birthday, you decide to celebrate with your friend at the local bar. Unbeknownst to you, a close friend of your dad's is there.

When he sees you with beer in hand and in the lap of another man, things get heated. Somehow, you end up in his shirt, at his house.

Word count: 5.1k

Warnings: pinv sex, passionate sex, forbidden realationship, violence, blood, underaged drinking, slight angst, cum eating, I love yous', mentions of masturation, tension, arguments, slight jealousy and protectiveness, pet names (girl, woman, ma'am, princess, sweetheart)

AN: not yet proofread, might be rough around the edges! Enjoy girlies🥹🫶

It was his one free night in a long time, and his buds pulled him along for a drink. He had no real objections, for he was in a good mood and it'd get even better once he had a drink in him.

The group of men emerged from the damp, rainy night and dove into the smoke tainted air and usual bustle of the local dive. They ordered their drinks and made their way to the back where the booths were, a jumble of familiar faces greeting them on their way. Until-

Bucky saw a face he ought not to see in a place like this. "Excuse me a moment, fellas. I got somethin' to take care of."

Their group turned to him, confused. "Wha-" and looked in the direction he was already headed. "Well shit, good thing her daddy ain't come with us." The group shared a few nervous glances, then shrugged and chuckled. "Wouldn't want to be one of those boys right now."

-

"Well . . . " a voice chuckled loudly.

She could see the source approaching their table from her peripheral, his form vaguely illuminated by soft lamp light through the gloom. " . . . Aint this a sight?"

She knew that voice, she could hear the telltale grin that shaped it.

Catching onto the change in energy, the giggles and boisterous laughter of their small group died down. Tense glances exchanged between them, all eventually landing on the intruder, all except her own.

Commotion continued sounding around them, their table the only to emit an unusually low amount of noise. "Anyone wanna tell me whats goin' on here?" The voice asked.

Swallowing, she realised she'd been intently staring into a cadleflame. She belived that maybe she'd have a chance at going unnoticed if she sat still enough.

"I asked you a question, doll."

She winced. That was his nickname for her. Fuck. She tore her gaze from the candle, snapping it to her friend across the table and gave her a sidelong glance that meant 'trouble' to which her friend nodded in agreement.

The low light that made the place cosy just moments before now only existed to muddle her thoughts. But, it could work in her favour. She carefully pushed her drink behind her elbow, hoping it wasn't too late to hide, and her friend followed her lead.

She turned toward the man, a cheap grin plaster on her face. "Hey . . . Buck," she spoke slowly, as if it'd somehow make him more agreeable.

"Hey there, princess," he grinned. Hat on his head. "Wanna explain this to me?" Pointing lazily to their gathering.

She shrugged, attempting to act nonchalant. Because admitting your wrong would confirm it's wrong. "Nothin special, we were just leavin', in fact."

A scoff blew past her ear. "The hell we are." The lap she sat on stiffened beneath her, tapping his feet–once, twice–in a show of impatience, and rocking her body in the process. The man then whispered in her ear. "Who is this guy anyway?"

She inclined her head, nervous eyes avoiding the big cowboy that stood imposing at the end of their table, and murmured a quiet reply over her shoulder. "No one. . . in particular." A lie, of course. "Let's just go."

The cowboy chuckled. "You're not leavin' with him, you're leavin' with me." That drawl could make the most steeled stumaches jittery with butterflies. Her friend must've felt it too by they way she squirmed in her seat.

She had to screw her eyes shut in a moment of contemplation. Why'd he have to be here tonight? Why'd they have to go to a bar he frequented?

She looked back at her friend with panic in her eyes. Boy, were they in for it. She could think of nothing else then to simply ask nicely, hoping it'd appeal. "Please, just go."

He smirked, putting a hand on his hips and showing a stern but playful disposition. "Your daddy know 'bout this?" He tipped his hat in their direction.

She pinned him with her eyes, narrowing them with independent annoyance. "Im my own woman, B-"

'What's it to you?' The guy beneath cut her off.

Bucky switched his attention to the guy, and she could feel him shrink a little under Bucky's gaze. "Hell, no need for that tone! I was just sittin' with my buds over there." He pointed to the group of men Buck came with, no doubt to put some pressure on the poor guy. From the looks of it, they'd been listening in on our conversation, and now waved to her, idly laughing at the situation, ready to jump in at any moment.

She shyly waved back, a tight smile on her lips.

"See, I just saw your little group havin' a grand ol' time over here and wanted to join you," Bucky laughed. "And when I noticed that fine woman in your lap, I thought I'd have a chat with her." He disguised it well, but she could hear the anger beneath his humoured exterior.

"You two know each other?" The guy asked, I'll at ease.

"Well enough." Bucky took a moment to look her over, a scan for any harm. But his eyes stuck on the short skirt and thin shirt. If possible, he looked even more bothered. "Wouldn't you say, sweetheart?" He glanced at her, and she could see the danger that lurked in his eyes. It began to dawn on her more and more how knee deep in trouble she was.

She cleared her throat, a nervous blush creeping up her cheeks. "Mhm," she hummed. It felt like he could see through her.

The guy's hand slunk to the bare skin of her thigh, attempting to mark his territory when seamingly he'd decided his dislike of the situation. "Huh, what's with the hat anyway, you some kind of sheriff?" He asked. But cut Bucky off as he was about to answer. "Either way," he waved his hand dismissively. "She's fine where she is. She can make her own decisions." And just like that, he'd successfully stolen the point she'd been trying to make.

She shook her head. Stupid, stupid boy.

Bucky's face hardened, any sign of humour gone from him. "I assure you, I dont need a sheriff's badge to take her home, It's within my right." He braced his hand against the table, leaning closer to them.

Her uterus roiled at that. 'take her home'

"Now, get that hand off of her, boy." He snarled, annoyance and authority resounding in his voice, promising a solution to the mans cocky demeanor. "She ain't yours to touch."

"Why?" The guy asked. "She yours?" His hand slid higher, squeezing her thigh, challenging the much broader man.

She exhaled, releasing a frustrated hum in early defeat, he'd doomed them both.

The cowboys jaw tensed. Silently, but undoubtedly steaming, he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and pushed them above his elbows. The veins on his forearms pop from strain, knuckles turning white from his fists clenching. "Fella. . ." He began, calming his composure, then pointed two loose fingers at the girl in the mans lap. "Had she been mine, you'd be on the floor already. Now, that girl, ain't of drinkin' age, neither is she to be touched by a slimy bastard like yourself."

Fuck, so he did see the drink. She shook her head again, warning him. "Bucky. . ." A very bad attempt at dissuading him from doing whatever he was about to do. She could almosy feel the guy beneath her sink into the booth they were sitting in. Perhaps he had some sense after all.

Her friend grabbed her arm, loosely yanking on it as her anxious eyes flickered between the men in conflict. She herself sitting in the lap of the guy's friend, who was preparing to step in if necessary. "We should go before this gets ugly," her friend whispered.

"Respectfully, ma'am, she ain't going nowhere without me." The cowboy opposed, directing his attention to her friend.

No, no, no no. . . Dread filled her, he'd drive her straight home to her parents.

Bucky's eyes fell back on the guy, now shrunken and small under his gaze. "So. . . Stand up, 'n leave, boy," he spoke with the authority of a sheriff but stood with the confidence of an outlaw. "There's no need for altercations, I was enjoyin' my night. N' I don't wish that to change-"

"I'll call on the bouncer," the guy shot out, his face probably as pale as his overly white and fragile shirt, pointing to a man behind the cowboy. Her eyes followed the steps down from the seating area, and through the dimly lit dive where a big man stood posted by the door. The guy beneath her then glanced at his friend across from them, both extending curt nods to one another.

She wanted to wretch, he was acting a coward and standing up to Bucky with the threat of enlisting two other men to his side. She sighed loudly, making a point for him to hear as she eyed her friend. "Well, I sure know how to pick em'." And her friend, inspite of the commotion they found themselves in, covered her mouth in snicker.

Bucky narrowed his eyes in a second of silent fury, then answered with a laugh, not missing a beat. "You mean that bouncer?" He asked and turned around, calling a greeting to the bouncer, who in turn tipped his hat with a smile. The type of gesture that indicated a longstanding friendship. "We're well aquainted," Bucky grinned. "But im sure he'd love to sort this situation out."

If they had any sense at all, the two men would leave with what little dignity they had left and realise that they were already outnumbered inspite of being 2 to 2.

"Leave, girls," the guy easily dismissed them.

She gave him a pointed look, flashed her eyebrows, and jerked her head to the side in a 'you had it coming' motion, and then grabbed her friend's hand.

"Asshole," she sighed and steered them out of the booth, taking the cider in her other hand. Silly as she was, she thought she could simply leave, perhaps just slip by Bucky. But no, his strong hand grabbed her bicep as she passed by, and set his blues deep into her own. "Wait by the truck, I'll drive ya' home." He said, looking between the two girls.

"Fine . . . " She sighed.

"N' dont even think of running, cause I'll catch ya'," he warned, and she rolled her eyes inspite of the burning that settled in her core.

She tried to yank herself free, but he didn't let go. "What? You wanna hear a 'yes sir'?" She dared the words, teasing, as nervousity built in her gut.

His eyes searched hers, a slow grin spreading over his lips as he leaned closer, bending down to whisper in hear ear. "Dont get cocky with me, girl." And his hand began sliding downward, making her shiver, leaving goosebumps in the wake of his touch.

She swallowed, that tone, the hat? God. Her uterus purred, and in a sudden surge on confidence, she answered. "No, sir."

He grabbed the glass bottle from her hand and grinned, taking a sip. "Good, girl. Now go." And pointed to the door.

Would it be wrong to say she started salivating? His words, together with his lips making contact with the same surface she had? There was something about it, something that made her . . . Pulse.

Bucky whistled and his friend–the bouncer–came bounding up the steps, him along with the group of dad's and bucky's friends only a few steps behind.

The bouncer tipped his hat to her and her friend in passing, a smirk on his lips. Nice to know there was still some gentlemen in the world.

She smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. He was quite handsome too.

"Dont even think 'bout it," Bucky warned.

She rolled her eyes, and then they were finally on their way out, meeting Bucky's group of friends on the way, all nodding and greeting her. "Tell your daddy we missed him tonight." One said, and they all chuckled.

The girls hurried off, giggling. But anxiety lingered in the depths of her chest. Those men were rogue witnesses in all of this.

As she held the door open, voices raised behind them. She could see the crowd turning to look in Buckys direction, anf she herself followed their gazes. And found them just in time to see Bucky's knuckles collide with the jaw of the guy she'd spent her night on, sending him sprawling.

-

Plunging into the deep night, the cold swept over them. "He's hot, ain't he?"

She didn't want to answer, or simply didn't want to admit it and just gave her friend a look of understanding.

"God, I was ready to pounce on him the second he called me ma'am."

The girl understood that too.

-

After about ten minutes wait, Bucky emerged from the bar. Unscathed, apart form bloody knuckles and dark cloud around his head. Before even saying a thing, he'd already removed his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. "I only got one of them. Apologies, ma'am," he told her friend and opened the truck door for them both. "The truck'll warm you up."

"Thats ok, thank you," her friend answered, and the girls shared a knowing look. Their thoughts connecting in fiendish collectivity.

"Alright, get in. We'd better get goin'."

-

The ride was relatively quiet. We knew better than to anger him further. Anxiety was growing within her, though, she didnt wanna know what would happen when her friend was let off.

"Text me ok? I'll se ya' later." Her friend said, eyeing Bucky. She leaned her head through the open window of the truck. "But- let me know how that goes," she whispered. "And good luck." She raised her eyebrows with a smirk on her lips.

The girl rolled her yes. "Sure will." And with one last wave, they were off.

-

When there were only the two of them, they could say whatever they wanted with confidence. But so far, there'd only been a few sighs and breaths of shared irritation. Neither of them were particularly pleased with the situation.

But she wanted to be the first to speak. "I'll be 21 in a few days, Buck."

"Doesn't mean you have good judgement."

She bristled. "I'm not a little girl anymore!"

" 'Course not, I can tell by the way you dress. That what a grown woman look like to you?" He nodded to her body, barely covered apart from his thick jacket over her torso.

She pulled it closer around herself. "Like what exactly? What do I look like to you? A slut, a hooker?" Her face stung from embaressment. She felt like a child again, being berated for something she wasn't able to puzzle together by herself.

He clicked his tongue, jerking his head to the side. His patience was running thin. "Dont twist my words, doll. I'm callin you careless."

"That dont matter comin' from you, you're not my daddy." She knew the comment would get a rise out of him, because she knew he'd ment no ill intent, and she knew he cared for her. But she was mad, and so was he.

"No, n' you should thank fucking god he wasn't there to bust you. I was the better option, I can promise you that."

She exhaled a frustrated breath, turning her attention toward the windshield. Watching droplets of water paving their way over the condensation covered glass. "You weren't the only one to bust me, though, were you?" She spoke lowly, feeling like a coward for even asking. "The boys gonna say something?"

He gripped the steering wheel harder, his roughed up knuckles tearing. "I told em' I'd take care of it." It must've stung, but he took no notice. Other things pestered his mind.

Worry mixed in with all other emotions as her gaze drifted to his hands, and her mind immidetly moved into recovery mode. "So what's that mean, you gonna tattle on me now?"

He looked over at her, brows furrowed right beneath the rim of his hat. He couldnt begin to understand her. "That all you care about?"

"Right now? Well, yeah. I dont want a scolding."

"All grown and still daddy's little girl, worried about his opinions."

"And if I say yes, what then, girl?

"I dunno, m' gonna have to convince you not to."

"Like you convinced that guy to buy you beer, huh? What'd you do, flirt with him? Give him a handjob, suck him off? What did I miss before catching you?"

Her mouth hung open in disbelief. "You fucking asshole!" She shook from anger, she never expected words like that to be thrown at her. Especially not by him. But she'd get him back, there was no reason behind her actions now. "Maybe I would've, I even bet it would've worked if I'd asked you. Right? You would've just loved having your friends pretty daughter gettin' you off, huh!" She half shouted the last sentence, her chest heaving with effort and fury.

"That's enough." His tone was unforgiving, shooting a sense of reality back into her.

"I'll shut up if you answer the god damned question Buck, would it have worked?"

But Bucky didn't answer, his jaw clenched and unclenched, biting back his words. If she thought the silence had been bad before? It was deafening now.

After calming down again, her words hit her like a freight train. She always had a friend in Buck, but now she wasn't sure. The words that'd been thrown back and forth had set them off balance, their entire relationship was on unsteady ground. Something had been rewritten in the rules between them.

There'd always been attraction, but that wasn't something they ever spoke of. They'd always been close, good friends even. But now, something had changed. And it made her feel sick. She'd had an ally in him, but now, she wasn't so certain.

After a long whole of shutting her mouth out of stubbornness, the fate of her father finding out was worse, so she broke. "Please don't bring me home, Buck. Dad'll throw a fit." She tried to smile, to soften her voice. But it felt wrong.

After a moments uncertainty on her part, and strained breathing on his, he spoke. "Im not makin' the detour, you can sleep at mine, that was always the plan anyway." He admitted, sounding utterly tired.

And now she felt extremely guilty, eyes studying him as he gripped the steering wheel harder. Her gaze drifted over his body, his face, his hands. Stopping on the roughed up and bloody knuckles. He'd beaten that guy for her. Out of jealousy, or simply because he was protective?

She turned away, her chest feeling hollow and followed the birches and sprucetress as they flashed by the truck. Their colors and textures blending together as they met the dark consistent sky above them.

Bucky's house was dark, he only lit a few tablelamps when they arrived. It was better that way, she recognized herself here, within the gloom and the safety of his home. It was second to her own.

"I'll get your something more comfortable," he said, his eyes avoiding her clothes, her body as a whole and disappeared into his bedroom.

Was it because he thought they didn't fit her, or the opposite? Had he been mad at himself for being attracted to her?

She nodded slowly, calling out to him, "we should do something about that hand of yours."

"It's fine, I'm fine." He said, re-emerging, meeting her eyes. "Here," he handed here a t-shirt and a pair of shorts, most likely too big for her. "I'll take the couch, n' you can take my bed."

She nodded again, and headed into the bathroom.

Buckys t-shirt was longer on her than the skirt she'd worn, so she opted out of the shorts. Luckily findig a roll of gauze in the bathroom cabinet.

She emerged from the bathroom, a pair of panties and the oversized t-shirt the only things on her body. "You want something to-" Bucky paused as she rounded the corner, and suddenly she herself stopped short–caught off guard.

Bucky stared at her, and whatever he'd been about to say was lost the second he looked up. Bucky cleared his throat, and with the weight of a 15 year long friendship on his shoulders, his eyes stayed glued to hers.

Inwardly, she smiled and hoped the lowly lit livingroom couldn't reveal the blush on her cheeks. "Found some gauze," she held the roll up, indirectly asking for permission to bandage him.

He opened his mouth to decline, she could even see his head begin to shake in dismissal.

But she cut in before he had the chance. "Just let me help, you can be mad and still let me help."

His eyes hardened, but hesitantly, he nodded all the same. "Im fine, doll."

She raised her brows with skepticism and made her way toward him, the fabric of buckys shirt doing its best at showcasing her breats.

Bucky clenched his fist in an attempt to control himself, he winced, the wounds on his knuckles re-opening.

"Yeah," she scoffed. "Sure seems fine to me." And placed herself infront of him. From his position on the couch, he had to look up at her. At that, a flicker of heat blazed in her core. Oh, those eyes. His big, pleading eyes, all sad and hurt. Did he want her gone or want her in some other way?

She kneeled, settling between his thighs and grabbed his hand. "You don't got to be so stubborn all the time. . . Just wanna help you." She wrapped his hand carefully, enjoying every second of his corse skin over hers. Once done, he tried flexing his hand, and winced again. He still hurt, that much was clear, but was too proud to admit it. "Want me to kiss it better?" She joked, hoping it would lighten the mood. But he did that thing again, where he said nothing, and instead clenched his jaw, as if holding back a yes. So she took her chance.

Keeping their eyes locked, she brought his wrapped knuckles to her lips, and kissed them through the bandage once, then moving further up to kiss the softer skin of the back of his hand. Again, his eyes were pleading, and he moved the hand to cup her cheek, stroking her cheekbone with his thumb. She took it as encouragement and kissed his palm, his wrist, his forearm. She stood up on her knees, kissing his bicep and reached for his shirt to pull him closer. She cupped his face and brought him inches from her own, nuzzling her nose against his.

Finally, when her lips reached for his, he pulled away. "Stop, stop," he nudged his forehead against hers. "We can't," he moved his lips away, cheek to cheek, he kissed the soft spot in front of her ear. "We can't."

"Cant, or wont?" She asked dully.

Those pleading eyes were back, begging her not to make him answer that question. She nodded absentmindedly, pulled into her thoughts. She stood up and moved away from him, his hand sliding down her arm and locking around her wrist, stopping her. "Dont leave."

"I'm comin' back."

After a few minutes of bustling in the kitchen, she returned to him. Sidling up next to him on the couch, her curled up legs lulling into his lap as she handed him a whiskey glass, then cradled her own. He whispered a thank you, looking into her eyes, and she whispered a you're welcome, looking into his. Then they sat like that for a while, quiet, unmoving. Bucky's hands finding their home on her legs, glas in one hand and her knee in the other. Somehow, this wasn't crossing a line for them, this was their normal, this was something not even her family questioned, this was them.

"Im sorry, doll." he said finally. "I never meant to imply-"

"It's ok, Buck." He opened his mouth to speak again, but she stopped him. "Really, It's fine. I'd rather not dwell on it."

Another moments silence passed between them, it was uncomfortable, but the unsaid lingered in the air like a thick wall between them, and hung over them with the threat of smothering. "We need to talk about us."

"I didn't like the way he was touchin' you," he said, choosing the topic before she had a chance at it. If he had to approach them, he would do it indirectly. "It didn't look like you were enjoyin' it."

Her eyebrows raised, "You would've punched him even if I were enjoying it." She commented sourley.

He squeezed her knee, gently rubbing circles into the skin beside. "He acted like he owned you," He turned his unscathed hand upside down, brushing his knuckles up and down her sensitive skin.

It all went straight to her head, veins throbbed with heat she didn't know she could feel. All brought out by a single touch of his hand.

But she wouldn't let off. "And what do you 'spouse beating him for it is?"

He stayed silent, his hand turned again, this time to grab her soft flesh, squeezing it with purpose. Much like the guy had done, but this felt different. This felt good, real good.

She swallowed, closing her eyes to focus on the words she needed to say. "What made you think you had the right? If not that I already belonged to–" she stopped, and their eyes met in a quick glance.

He let out a frustrated sigh. "I was only protectin' you." He defended, but it didn't quite sound like he believed the words himself. Nor did she. But if he wasn't ready to see it as it was, she wouldn't pressure him.

Instead, she laid her head on his shoulder. "It shouldn't be this hard."

He shook his head, the words seemingly struck a cord within him. For he sat insilence, pondering, a long while. "I would've said no, you know. And it would've killed me." She looked at him strangely, forgetting what he was referring to for a moment. "I would've said yes, if you hadn't felt forced to it, like it was a last resort to keep your secret."

Oh. . . "Had I wanted it, you'd said yes?" She stared unbelieving into the dark space infront of them.

"Nothin' could stand in my way." He slid his hand further up her thigh, fingers exploring the skin just beneath the hem of his/her shirt.

She sat up straight to look at him properly, she couldn't tell if he was serious. "You want me?"

"More than anything," his voice was breathless, barely a whisper. His index and long finger reaching further up, exploring more than he'd ever dared. "Cant even explain how many times I imagined you gettin' me off after you said it. How much I hated the thought, the sight of you with that guy, his hands all on you."

A pang of need shot through her. She put her whiskey down, and braced her hands against his chest. "But why tell me now, whats changed? Whats changed in this last hour?" His fingers rubbed the skin of her hips beneath her panties, sending shivers running over her body, shivers she'd only previously dreamed he'd be the cause of.

"You're right, it shouldn't be this hard. I'm makin' it too hard." His hand slid to her waist, still invisible to him, but no longer untouchable. Magnetically, they were pulled together, faces inching closer and closer to oneanother.

"And what about daddy?" It was becoming hard to focus, she wouldn't stop him for the world. Bow, they were close enough to feel the dampness of their breaths.

His hand continued exploring farthur up, fingertips finally reaching the soft, plush flesh below her breast. "Your daddy ain't here, is he?"

She began shaking her head in disbelief, lips brushing against eachother. "Dont promise something if you can't follow through."

His hand stopped, "I can, please," he begged, waiting for her go-ahead. "I can. . ."

His words vibrated against her skin, electrifying her body. "Fuck," she moaned, he's right there. Right, there, infront of her, for her. "Then do, please do, Buck."

And just like that, both hands were beneath her shirt, pulling her into his lips and squeezing her breasts.

Breathless moans filled the silent air, they tore at eachother greedily. Pulling and pushing eachothers bodies, fighting to get Bucky free of his clothes.

Snaking one arm behind her back, he guided her down onto cushions and placed himself above her. Still clothed by jeans, he rolled his hips against her core, grinding the rough fabric against her barely clothed clit. This, is what she had been craving. The exact static friction, the heat and movement between their bodies producing all the pleasure she needed. She moaned heavily, beacause still, she wanted more. Pulling her legs up and her panties off, she wordlessly signaled for him to do the rest.

With a groan, Bucky dove into her neck, kissing and sucking, all the while he unzipped his jeans and pulled them off together with his boxers. No time was wasted, he lined his member up with her core within a second, prodding and teasing at the opening. "Please, please, please." She sounded desperate, but fuck, she was. And feeling it was worse then sounding it.

"Yes ma'am." He said, and thrusted into her. A gasp escaped them in unisome. With the arm still around her waist, he pulled her into his hips, his body straining as he delved deeper inside her than she thought possible.

"Yes. . ." She whined. "More."

He kissed his way up her throat, their hips freed and collided into eachother with steady, strong thrusts, pushing her deeper into the cushions with every rut. Nothing could compare, he was unparalleled. Bucky, despite what he was already achieving, kissed his way up her neck, unfaltering in his duty.

Her hands found his face, cupping it and bringing him back to her, and their lips met again. "Taste so sweet," he murmured, sinking his tongue into her. The salt of her skin mixing with her saliva. "Want all of you."

She smiled against him. "Harder."

He did as ordered, keeping his pace and adding pressure. "Yeah," he moaned. "Being so good for me, girl." And pulled her deeper onto his member. Her breaths grew rapid and shallow, fingers clawing at his back as she had nowhere to go, all pleasure directed straight into her. "Close, so fucking close," she cried.

"Good," he chuckled breathely against her skin, and that was a she needed. Her back arched in euphoria, and stars stung her eyelids, speckling the darkness. "Good job, sweetheart. Just breathe," he continued thrusting into her, softly, easing her through the orgasm. "Good girl. Well done. . ." He whispered, kissing her jaw. The stars began fading and she regained her senses, tears rolling down her cheeks. "Beautiful, girl." He moaned, still rutting into her, chasing his own high while wiping the tears from her face. Her body began tingling, on the vege of breaking down.

"Dont know how much more I can take, Buck." She kissed his cheek, focusing on the skill of his lips.

"Almost there, almost. . ." he moaned, increasing his pace. The slickness of her core created a sickening sound together with the slapping of their skin. It was heavenly, but she could feel the pressure building within her again.

"Mmmh, m' gonna cum again, please buck, dont stop."

He didn't, he continued, intent on coming together with her. He bit into her lip, causing her to yelp and yield the hold on his face and licked a trail down her chest and breast, then taking it into his mouth. Sucking and slurping in an insane rythm with the slapping. "Yes, yes! Fuck, Bucky." she called out, and Bucky pulled out of her.

Coming only a second after, his seed spilling over her abdomen. "I love you, I love you." He moaned with faltering breaths, bracing himself on his forearms on either side of her, kissing every part of skin that he could reach.

Holy shit? "I love you too." She smiled lazily, drunk off of her two consequent orgasms. Laying her hand on her stumache, she felt his sticky substance coat her fingers.

His eyebrows knit together in guilt. "Sorry 'bout that sweetheart, I'll get a towel-"

She grabbed his bicep and shook her head, locking her eyes onto his as she brought the fingers to her lips and licked them off, popping them in her mouth to suck them clean.

Bucky stared, unable to form words.

"Cat got your tongue, cowboy?" She asked, a coy smile on her glistenting lips.

"Fuck," he awed breathlessly. "I just love you." He whispered, lowering himself onto her once again, this time striking his tongue into her core.

-

[boowritess]

part 1 hehe

notsobaddasssoldier!reader that is so incredibly under prepared for everything. and the 141 really do forget that you're actually still very green - very new to this life.

especially with things like interrogation.

for once, price is putting you on the sideline BUT you have to interogate the person they have captive for valuable information.

they'll give you whatever things you need in order to pry out any sort of information from the captive. they don't even second guess you asking for a guitar. they get one then they continue on with the mission while you interrogate the person.

their expectation may have been very high. they were betting on all the little fun bloody pain you could potentially do to the captive. seriously,

"knife, they're a knife person" *ghost*

"definitely not. fire. they're definitely using a blowtorch on em as we speak." *soap*

"sod of the both of ya - waterboarding. for sure." *gaz*

"choking." *price shrugs*

obviously, they were excited to come back and see who was right...

it really humbled them to see they were all wrong.

"please make them stop. i'll tell you whatever you want"

*captive yelling that can be barely heard over reader.*

"AHHHHHHHHHH *strum strum* AHHHHHH AHHHHHHH *strum strum* AHHHHHH-"

*reader who is loudly strumming the guitar out of tune, screaming in the captives' face over and over again.*

the guys don't know if they should be impressed or concerned. they were gone for nearly 5 hours.

5 hours you had been screaming in the captives' face 'playing' the guitar.

later on you get a lesson from ghost about what interrogations are supposed to be like - it ends with you vomiting and price patting your back and gaz holding a bucket to your mouth.

"what did you think was gonna happen when ghost showed ye what to do?" *soap*

"i don't know... go boo?" *scarred reader*

yeah... you're not allowed to do interrogations anymore or be involved in interrogations- you are also most definitely not allowed to talk to captives or guard them because -

"why're you doing this?" *captive*

"honest to god, i ain't got much goin' for me and i had hella stu-"

*reader's mouth suddenly gets covered, gaz looking at you like an idiot*

"hm? what is your little task force plan, huh? go on and blow the place?" *captive*

"well actually no. they plan too-" *your mouth gets covered just in time and you're getting dragged out the room by a very frustrated price*

you very much get ANOTHER lesson about what NOT TO DO when in the same room as a captive - it's pointless though because you're still not ever allowed in the same room alone with a captive.

HAHAHA

i can't stop thinking of reader who is watching a captive be interrogated for information by getting choked and reader just piping up like

"i don't think they can breathe..."

*ghost, long exhale, continues choking captive*

"that's the point, kid" *price*

"oh..."

*they continue choking the captive, waiting for them to crack-*

"if they can't breathe how are they going to talk-?"

"out." *ghost snaps pointing at the door.*

maybe they do give you a second shot at attempting to interrogate the captive. the 'correct' way this time, though. giving you ALL the necessary tools...

and you are ready, you're pumped. you can do it. you're not going to vomit - you're going to do it right.

you grab the pliers and walk towards the captive who is obviously panicked, very much expecting you to do your worse. which you are.

you grab their mouth and force their mouth open, ready to pull their teeth out - sucking a deep breath in as the captive starts to cry and beg.

but then you start to cry and beg.

"please just tell me the information i don't wanna do this"

"you don't have too!" *captive, crying and begging too*

"i do! i'm sorry..."

"no." *captive*

"yes."

"no" *captive starts screaming, making you start screaming as you pull on their tooth both of you staring at eachother and screaming your heads off.*

"I'M SORRY!"

"STOP!" *captive*

"I CAN'T!" *pulls tooth with pliers* "EW EW EW EW-"

you don't even do it right. you're pulling at their tooth with pliers and you're not strong enough so you're awkwardly just tugging the captives head. but the both of you are too busy screaming and begging to notice...

but you actually manage to successfully get the information - you're still not allowed to do interrogations... only being the very last option.

it does mean that you have to go on missions... even if you're useless omg idea?

*gasp* someone claims reader is a traitor - oop?

more parts, perhaps?

a/n: wrote this while trying to work through an anxiety/panic attack !! xx honestly tho these would be my genuine reaction. btw drink water and try sleep cause i can't xx

[sturnsdarling]

an unlikely friendship

{insp by @sturnioz au} fratboy!chris needs a girls help with a deal, and the only girl he knows he can trust, is fratboy!matts.

vibe check: suggestive between reader and matt at the start, drug dealing, doing drugs (coke and weed), drinking, bad vibes from the other frat boys, reader and chris being enemies to best friends damon and bonnie style

4.7k words (I yapped a bit on this oops)

A/N: this is kind of a follow up to the 'what the fuck is wrong with you' fic but also not really? idk bro its the duo we didn't know we needed. also the song I chose for this is one of the best songs to come out of the shit hole country I call home so give it a listen and i'm also fully aware that an american frat would never play this song but its my story so, kick rocks.

love and cigs, merc

You were hovering over Matt, kissing him through your whimpers as he matched your pace, fucking up into you as you bounced on his cock relentlessly.

Your daily dose of Matt was quickly interrupted by Chris, charging in the room with a spliff hanging from his lips.

"Yo, y/n, I need t'ask you somethin" Chris was completely un-phased by the sight of you on top of Matt, luckily covered by his duvet.

"Chris, what the fuck are you doin, dickhead" Matt said in a huff as you quickly clambered off him and onto to the bed, covering yourself in shock.

"kid, show me somthin' I ain't seen before and I'll start throwing racks over y'both" Chris raised his brows in his brothers direction before turning his attention to you, "y/n I need to talk to ya"

Matt rolled his eyes, pulling the duvet to bunch up over his still hard cock. You pulled the duvet up to cover yourself completely, looking at Chris in complete bafflement.

"can it wait? i'm kinda busy right now, Chris" you shifted where you sat, glancing down at the messy bed and back to Chris.

"nah, it can't" Chris replied, taking a long toke of his joint and dead panning

"you're fuckin' unbelievable" Matt huffed, draping his arm over your shoulder and pulling you into him slightly "what do you want, kid"

"I need to take you on a deal i'm doin' tonight" Chris said.

"what?" you and Matt asked in unison, brows furrowed as Chris' face remained unchanged.

"what? am I fuckin' speaking Japanese or somethin'?" Chris' face scrunched up in annoyance, "I need ya for a deal"

"why me?" you ask, just as baffled as Matt beside you

"cause you're a girl" Chris shrugged, still toking on his joint.

"Chris, there is no way in ever loving fuck you're taking my girl to a fuckin' drug deal" Matt shook his head, annoyance thick in his voice.

Your heart swelled at the pet name, "your girl?" you craned your neck over to look at him, eyes flitting between his.

"yeah, my girl" Matt nodded with a smirk, edging his lips closer to yours as he repeated his words.

You locked your lips over his, your hand instantly coming to his jaw, pulling him into you with a giggle, he returned the kiss, tracing small circles on your shoulder with his soft finger tips.

"okay, if you two are gonna do this shit infront'a me can you pass me that cup cause i'm gonna fuckin' throw up" Chris said, retching at the sight of you and Matt all loved up.

"you came into my room, kid" Matt broke your kiss, pointing his attentions back to Chris as you chuckled

"anyway, s'not happening, find someone else" Matt shrugged stubbornly.

Chris groaned, rolling his eyes, "why, dude, y'being fuckin' annoying"

"why do you need a girl for the deal, anyway?" you asked, curious.

Chris toked his joint, "cause" he blew out the cloud of smoke in his mouth, "the house I'm goin' to is full of little bitches that've never felt the touch of a woman in their lives, you'll be like... bait"

"absolutely fuckin' not" Matt butted in, his voice stern.

"how bad could it really be?" you looked to Matt, somewhat intrigued by Chris' proposition and Chris' ears perked up at your curiosity

"are you stupid?" Matt looked at you instantly, brows furrowed, "angel, I am not lettin' you go to a frat house full of kids that wanna roofie you and fuck you on the campus green, nah, absolutely not" Matts grip tightened around you.

"first of all, i'm not fuckin' stupid, i'm smarter than you so, watch your mouth" you said, tone stern as Chris let out a little 'oh shit' from the end of the bed, "and second of all, i'm fully capable of looking after myself"

"and s'not like I'd let anything happen to her, I'll have her back" Chris added, trying to sound as uncaring as possible as not to let onto the fact that he actually thought you were alright.

"see, Chris will have my back" you mimicked Chris' words, flitting your eyes in Chris' direction whilst facing Matt, your face riddled with a cheeky smile at Chris actually being nice for once.

Matt groaned, rubbing his temples with a stretched hand across his forehead, "I don't know" he sighed

Chris' shoulders dropped, he sighed and rolled his head backwards before taking a deep breath and looking to the both of you, "look, y/n's the only girl I trust t'do this with me, kay? so either she comes, or it don't happen and I really need this deal to work"

You were slightly taken aback by Chris' honesty, shooting him a small smile that was met with a quick eye roll. You looked back to Matt who was looking at his brother, clenched jaw as he bit the inside of his cheek in thought.

"nothing happens to her, kay?" Matt said, after some deliberation.

"nothin" Chris nodded, standing to attention.

"cause I will personally see to your death, kid, like I will actually break every. single. bone. in your body until you're limp and heavy like a wet sock" Matt added, pointing a finger at Chris as excitement swelled in your body.

"super graphic, dude" Chris winced, "but fine, nothin happens or I die, got it"

Seeing Chris back down to Matt was always an interesting sight, it was like watching wolves fight for dominance. You squealed in excitement over the whole ordeal.

"I'm so excited, why am I excited?" You said, cheesing

"because you're a little sadist" Matt laughed, pulling you into a tender and short kiss, "if anything happens, you call me straight away, okay? anything"

you rolled your eyes, peppering another short kiss on Matts lips, "yes, Matthew, I will call you" you couldn't help but smile at Matts protectiveness over you, it was nice to never have to worry, you knew he had you, always.

"good girl" Matt smirked, "now, Chris, get the fuck out" he turned his attention to his brother as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down into you.

"be ready by eight, kid" Chris said, walking away but looking at you over his shoulder.

"will do" you chuckled, turning to pull Matt into a sloppy kiss, Chris groaned and walked out the room, slamming the door behind him.

Later that night,

You were getting ready in Matts room, putting on your best 'bait' outfit and applying a smooth layer of red lipstick. Matt watched in awe as you stretched your plump lips open, applying the red tint to the corners of your mouth. You caught him staring at you in the mirror and chuckled at his slack jaw appearance.

"maybe you shouldn't go" Matt said, coming up behind you and resting his chin on your shoulder.

"Matthew" you rolled your eyes, putting the lid on your lipstick and turning around, wrapping your arms over his shoulders, "everything will be fine, I'm a big girl, okay? I can look after myself"

Matts hands snaked around your waist, making you arch into him, "I know, angel, but-" he sighed, "you're my girl, I don't really like the idea of you bein' bait for a drug deal, fuckin' hate it actually"

You cheesed at the pet name, it was his favourite thing to call you today and you weren't complaining.

"I'll be fine, I promise" You said, inching your red lips close to his as his lips parted in anticipation, you chuckled at his subtle neediness for you, knowing you were the only one who got to see him like this. You pulled your face away with a smirk and Matt tutted, raising his hand to your jaw quickly and pulling your face towards his with brute force, capturing your lips in a messy kiss.

You whimpered on instinct, arching into him as his hand came down to knead at the flesh of your skirt covered ass before placing a firm smack on one of your cheeks. You squealed with a smile, pulling away from him. Matt gazed down at you, red lipstick smeared across his lips. You giggled, bringing your thumb to his lips to wipe the stain away and Matt caught your thumb between your teeth with a teasing bite and squeezed your ass once more.

Your moment was interrupted by Chris once again, bounding into the room with, surprise surprise, a joint hanging from his lips.

"you ready, kid?" Chris said.

You peered at him over Matts shoulder and Matt turned his head to look at him. You dropped your hands from Matts shoulders, stepping out from in front of him so Chris could see your outfit.

"how do I look?" you smiled, holding your arms out in display.

"like a slut" Chris toked his joint and you cocked your eyes to the side with a half smile.

"dude" Matt warned from next to you.

"what?" Chris shrugged, "it's perfect" He grinned.

You hummed a satisfied sound and patted your skirt down, admiring your, according to Chris, slutty outfit.

"lets go, it's eight" Chris said putting his joint out in the ashtray on the table by the door after one final, long toke.

"okay" you smiled, turning to Matt to kiss him goodbye. His hands found your face instantly as you slotted your lips around his, Chris groaning behind the two of you.

"see you later" You pulled away from the kiss, hands wrapped around Matts wrists.

"see you later, angel, stay pretty for me, kay?" he smiled, placing another short kiss on your lips.

"mhm" you nodded, turning to face Chris with an excited smile.

As you walked away, Matt placed an encouraging slap on your ass. You walked past Chris, sauntering down the stairs. Just before he could follow you, Chris' shoulder was in Matts grip.

"what, kid" he huffed, but was cut off by the sight of Matt glaring at him.

"if anythin' happens to her, I will fuckin' end you," he said, his tone threatening as he spoke through gritted teeth.

Chris rolled his eyes, "Kid -" he went to speak.

"I'm serious, Chris. She's very fuckin' important to me and if she gets even close to hurt 'cause of you, we will have big fuckin' problems" Matt added, glaring at Chris.

Matts tone made Chris shift in his skin, completely unafraid of his brother but knowing what he's capable of when he's upset.

"m'not gonna let anythin' happen to her, kid, I promise, she's safe with me" Chris said, keeping Matts eye contact to show his sincerity.

"good, I trust you" Matt said, dropping his hand from Chris' shoulder.

Chris prodded the side of his cheek with his tongue and raised his brows quickly, trying not to let on that Matt trusting him was more important to him than anything.

"see ya later, angel" Chris mocked Matt, walking out the room with a chuckle.

The walk to the house was a lot less awkward than you thought it would be.

"so, whats the deal with this whole 'i need this to go well' thing?" you asked, looking to Chris with a cigarette between your lips, "why's it so important?"

"it just is, kid, why you askin' questions like you give a fuck" Chris tutted, looking you up and down with judgement.

You chuckled at his defensiveness, raising your hands in jesting surrender as you let your cig hang from your lips, "alright" you raised your brows and widened your eyes.

Chris looked at you and rolled his eyes with a sigh, pulling the preroll our from its tucked position behind his ear, he put the joint in his mouth and lit it, cupping the end with one hand as he sparked the lighter with the other. He took a long toke before blowing the smoke into the air.

"this house is one of two houses I don't sell to on the entire campus" Chris said, his voice strained slightly as he blew out the smoke.

"right" you said, encouraging him to talk.

"and, as we speak, Nate is at the other, working his Boston charm on the little christian girls of kappa kappa new" Chris smiled at you, raising his brows as he took another joke of his joint.

"and I know that thats a done deal, so, if we get this house tonight, i'll officially be the dealer of the whole fuckin' college" Chris raised his arms, turning as he gestured to the dark, street lamp lit campus.

you chuckled at his gesture, raising your brows quickly, "you sure do have big aspirations, Chris"

Chris tutted, "don't judge me, wise ass, not everyone can be a genius like you or Matthew" Chris mocked your voice as he said his brothers name.

"hey, I'm not judging" You raised your hands again

"you definitely are, kid" Chris rolled his eyes, returning his attention back to the street as he toked his joint.

"nah, i'm not, I think what you do is actually pretty cool" You shrugged, being honest.

"really?" Chris looked to you again, his face screwed up in confusion.

"yeah, you gotta be clued up to be able to do what you do, it's kinda admirable, in a... weird way" you nodded at him, holding his eye contact.

He didn't say anything at first, only fought the smile trying to crawl onto his face. Chris chuckled, shaking his head "thanks, kid, but I don't really need your approval to do what I do"

You rolled your eyes, retreating back into silence at Chris' incessant standoffishness.

When you got to house, you adjusted your outfit as you stood in the front garden, the music booming from the house as Chris finished his joint.

"you look fine, kid, stop faffin" Chris tutted.

"I know I look fine, asshole, I don't need your approval" you copied his earlier words with a grimacing look.

Chris couldn't help but laugh, you were the only person that spoke to him like that and he wasn't sure why he didn't want to throw you in front of a car because of it.

"when we get in there, jus stay close to me, y'don't even need to speak" Chris said, throwing his joint on the floor.

"so what the fuck am I here for then?" You tutted.

Chris groaned, "you know how car dealerships always have a hot chick standing by the car?" he tilted his head at you.

"yeah?" you scrunched your face at him.

"car" he pointed to himself, "hot chick" and then to you

"right" you said, bluntly.

"trust me, I know these boys n' they'll do anythin' to even look at a girl, let alone be associated with one, even if it is through their dealer" Chris added, hearing him speak about dealing made you see how smart he really was, and you felt yourself begin to kind of respect him

"so, just be a hot girl and help you sell product by doing nothing but being a hot girl?" you summarised.

"exactly" Chris smirked, slightly admiring your willingness to help him with this.

"I can do that" you shrugged, throwing your cigarette on the floor and stamping it out under your boot.

"thats why ya here, kid" Chris turned and walked towards the house, you followed him, puffing your chest out slightly and painting your features with a sly confidence.

The whole house was vibrating with people, 'Traktor' by Wretch 32 blaring through the speakers as you and Chris walked through, everyone turning to look at you both as Chris' presence cleared a path.

The whole party seemed to shift as Chris walked in, everyone whispering about the two of you, you heard mutters as you walked behind Chris, picking up the ends of sentences like 'who is that with him?' and others like 'I swear thats his brothers girl'. You had never developed the crippling gene that made people care about what other people thought of them, so knowing that everyone was talking about you didn't bother you in the slightest, maybe thats why Chris asked you to do this with him.

Chris was dapping up people as he walked through, seeing some personal regulars. He introduced you to everyone as 'Matts girl', some you already knew from spending so much time at the boys' frat house, others you had only met in passing or not at all.

Once Chris had manoeuvred you both through to the kitchen, you were met with a sight you despised. An entire group of frat boys, all clad in chinos and polo shirts, playing beer pong, terribly, and chest bumping each other every time the tiny ball entered the red cup.

"this is my personal hell" You said to Chris, resting your arm on his shoulder as you lent your body weight on him.

"you and me both" Chris chuckled, "lets go, it's game time"

Chris walked over, his demeanour shifting slightly as he approached them. He shifted from just Chris to dealer Chris, carrying an ampt up air of 'don't fuck with me' and a broadness in his shoulders that was honestly fascinating to watch.

You followed suit, pushing your hair back from your chest to hang down your back, leaving your cleavage on full display as you adjusted your walk, swaying your hips with purpose and swallowing all the hilarious jokes at the group of boys' expense you were definitely going to tell Matt later.

"yo, Chris, how you livin' bro?" One of the boys noticed Chris as you walked towards them.

"sup, Cody, was' good?" Chris dapped him up, shooting a nod at the rest of the boys' frat brothers.

"who's this?" Cody asked, gesturing to you and looking you up and down, near enough licking his lips at the sight of you.

"This is y/n, she's Matts girl" Chris replied, "y/n, this is Cody, he's the president of the frat" Chris looked to you, shooting you a short look that you understood immediately.

"hi" you smiled at the boy, blinking at him like a cat, "where can I get a drink?" you asked, putting on your best sorority persona.

"I like this girl" Cody looked to Chris who raised his brows quickly in response, "drinks table is over there, sweetheart" He pointed over to the far end of the room, "yo, packer, get Chris' pretty friend here a drink" He turned to shout to one of his frat brothers.

Packer did as he was told immediately, and within seconds you had a drink in your hand.

"Thanks, Packer" you said, brushing the boys hand for a moment as you took the drink from him and took a sip, returning your attentions to the boy who was undressing you with his eyes.

It made your skin crawl, in all honesty you wanted to throw the drink in his face, knee him in the balls and spit on his convulsing body, but, you had a role to play.

"so, I'm here 'cause I heard that your dealer got put away, and you boys in dire need of a new supplier" Chris said, pulling Cody's attention away from you.

"thats right" Cody smirked, trying to be as confident as he could in Chris' presence.

"well, I got everything ya need, bro, what'cha want" Chris shrugged, selling a pen to a writer and being effortlessly charismatic.

Cody chuckled, nodding his head and pressing his tongue to his teeth, "I told you last semester Chris, I dunno if the boys wanna be associated with you like that"

Chris rolled his eyes, "Cody, bro, who's in charge here? the boys? or you?" Chris lightly poked the boys shoulder, asserting dominance over him without even trying.

Cody thought for a moment, looking back at the boys as they continued to be terrible at beer pong.

"that is true" He nodded, looking back to Chris, "but, we gotta try before we buy, you gotta party with us" Cody added.

Chris opened his mouth to speak and looked to you for a moment, you looked up at him, furrowing your brows slightly with a small cock of your head.

"I dunno about that, bro, this ain't really my crowd" Chris said, shaking his head.

Before Cody could try and convince him, your arm was rested on Chris' shoulder once more, getting his attention.

"oh, come on, Chris, the boys wanna party, let's show em how we party" you said, your voice thick with faux encouragement disguising the message you were praying Chris was picking up on.

Chris narrowed his eyes at you and you widened yours, with a tense jaw, he turned to Cody, "alright, lets party"

Cody smiled and wrapped his arm round Chris' shoulder, guiding him over to his frat brothers and you followed them, cheesing at Chris cheekily as he shot you a glaring look from over his shoulder.

"lets do some shots!" you shouted, raising an arm and skipping over to the drinks table to get shot glasses and a bottle of vodka.

The drinks started to flow, and at some point, Chris actually looked like he was enjoying himself.

You and Chris were killing it; you beat everyone at beer pong, declaring yourself the duo of all duo's; at one point you were on a table, pouring straight liquor into Chris' mouth from about three feet up, surrounded by hoards of frat boys all cheering you on; you were arm wresting with frat boys, Chris acting as your coach, rubbing your shoulders and patting your face town with a vodka soaked tea towel as if you were a world champion boxer. It was actually, a lot of fun.

You had ten shots lined up, moving down the line side by side to do five shots each. You both knocked them back with ease, shooting one after the other like it was water. When you got to the final shot, you let out a loud 'whoop', echoed by Chris, who groaned at the feeling of pure vodka slipping down his throat. You held your hands up, asking for a high five of Chris and, in his drunken state, he complied, hitting your hands with his with brute force. You laughed loudly, cheesing at him, giving him a look that he knew meant 'its working'.

Cody and his frat brothers were around you, cheering you on as they struggled to keep up. Cody couldn't keep his eyes off you and, despite the sick feeling it gave you in your stomach, it gave you an idea.

"give me a baggy" You leant up to whisper in Chris' ear.

"what? why?" Chris said, shaking his head slightly.

"Just, trust me" you pulled away from his shoulder, nodding at him and holding your hand up.

Chris reached into his pocket, pulled out a baggy of coke and placed it in your palm, brows furrowed in curiosity as he watched you saunter over to Cody.

He couldn't quite make out what you were saying, but as you approached Cody he saw your whole energy shift, you went from your usual cold and standoffish self to a welcoming and flirty girl, Chris couldn't help but be somewhat proud.

You approached Cody, placing your hand on his chest with the baggy tucked between your fingers and got on your tip toes to talk directly into his ear.

"get your keys out" You said, putting on your best slurring drunk voice.

Cody did as you said, reaching into his pocket and handing you his keys with a smirk. You opened the baggy, keeping eye contact with him as you loaded just enough to sniff onto the end. You raised it to Cody's nose, placing a delicate finger on his nostril, your eye contact never wavering.

Cody snorted the lump of coke off the metal, his whole face scrunching up at the sensation of it shooting up his nose. You giggled, taking the key and licking it clean, batting your lashes at him before placing his keys back in his hand, letting your hand linger on his for a moment before turning away and walking back over to Chris, your face dropping from a smile the instant Cody couldn't see your expression.

Chris laughed, shaking his head in slight awe at you as you rolled your eyes, still swaying your hips, knowing Cody was looking at you.

"that was genius" Chris said as you reached his side, leaning on the counter and pouring yourself another drink.

"I know" you shrugged with a smile, taking a sip and turning back to face the party.

Chris watched as Cody bragged to his friends about what had just happened, telling everyone how hot you were and how good Chris' coke is. You nudged Chris with your shoulder and he grinned down at you, you cocked your head towards the frat boys and he pushed your shoulder jestingly, walking over to the group of boys, reaching into his pocket and handing out baggies, taking rolls of cash in return.

You stayed tucked away against the counter, watching as Chris pulled in cash endlessly, handing out bags of coke and weed to almost everyone at the party. At one point, he didn't even need to ask people if they wanted anything, they were coming to him and all he had to do was name his price. You smiled behind your cup, knowing that this is exactly how he wanted the night to go and happy that you got to be a part of this strange exchange.

Through the crowd of people, Chris found your eye-line, shooting you a grateful wink, one you returned before slamming your drink.

you pulled out your phone, vision only slightly blurry from the amount you had drunk. You messaged Matt, letting him know that everything had gone perfectly and that you and Chris were actually getting along.

You were snapped out of your text conversation by Chris saying your name, "you ready to go, kid?" he asked.

"yes, desperately, I can feel myself getting stupider just be being here" you groaned, following Chris as he walked you both through the party.

the walk home was actually, nice.

"when you loaded that key for him, I actually thought the kids knees were gonna buckle" Chris laughed, taking a long toke of his joint before offering you some.

You shook your head at his offer, reaching into your bra and pulling your cigarettes out, placing one in your mouth and using the end of Chris' joint to light it.

"dude he was literally shaking, like even being around me was enough to make him cream his pants" you chuckled, smoke leaving your mouth as you spoke.

Chris keeled over in laughter as he walked beside you, "it was fuckin' genius, kid, you're comin' on every deal with me when I have t'pretend to like those fuckin' losers"

"I'm happy to be of service" you said, curtsying at Chris with a ridiculous smirk on your face, your cigarette dangling from your lips.

Chris just laughed at your gesture, shaking his head as he toked his joint. You both walked in comfortable silence for a while, heading back to the frat house. You thought about the night, about how if you had told you a week ago that you would go out with Chris, and actually enjoy yourself, you would have laughed in your face.

"you know, I had a really good time tonight" you said, surprise thick in your voice.

Chris looked over to you and a cocked brow, "don't sound too surprised kid, m'not that bad"

"nah, you're not, you're actually kinda pleasant to be around when you're not being a cocky shit" you jested, pointing your cigarette at Chris accusingly.

"thanks, I guess" Chris chuckled, "you're not too bad either, kid"

you gasped, holding your hand to your chest, "did the Christopher Sturniolo just admit that he actually likes hanging out with me?" you said in exaggerated shock.

Chris rolled his eyes, taking a final toke of his joint and flicking the dead butt in your direction, you laughed, dodging the attack and ashing your cigarette at him.

"don't get too crazy, I wouldn't say I like hangin' out with ya" he smiled, "but I did have fun"

you walked the rest of the way home in silence, only breaking it to occasionally giggle about the events of the night or for Chris to tell you he needed to 'take a leak'. You had a surprisingly nice night, and for the first time since you had known him, you were beginning to actually like Chris, finally seeing what Matt meant when he says that he isn't 'all bad'. Chris shared your near admiration, seeing you for more than the confrontational, for lack of a better word, bitch that was fucking his brother and best friends with his girl.

It was an unlikely friendship, but it was definitely blossoming.

taglist: @sturniozalt@mattslolita@shaquilles-0atmeal@blahbel668@sleepysturniolo@le4hsblog @sarosfilms @joemamaaa42069 @2muchofaslvt @seluky10 @cherib3lla @jetaimevous

[alanisinstone]

somebody runs up on plug!connie while he's with you…

y'all out spinnin the block, having a chill day. It’s def a sweats + slides type time, you in some cute basics and connie in one of his usual fits. yeaaa he decided y'all matching vibes today.

y'all already got sum wing stop, spent A bag at dicks bcs you had an urge.. (yk when you get a rlly strong urge to go to a very specific store…IK y'all know what I mean), smoked a j, and fucked around in Marni, then Louis, and after that the staff started looking at y'all funny so you quickly moved on snickering the WHOLE way to the car. connie couldn’t stop laughing bcs yall got them tight asf and they don’t even know he could buy the whole storeeee

y'all decided to pull up to eren’s crib to pick up connie's controller that he left there last time they hopped on. y'all pulled up and got out, but just as you closed the car door, a grey beat up supra with damn near 2% tint rolled up to y'all. 3 rat lookin dudes strolled up to y'all talmbout “we got smoke wit ya mans mami” “damn C you got a bad one. I'm tryna get a piece of that” “lemme hold sum C”

when I tell y'all connie just about crashed tf out and caught 3 felonies. He was reaching for his glock about to finish the job when eren and ony came out the house flashing their glocks immediately knowing what's up, ony talmbout sum “y'all got balls comin here” and eren goin "y'all just let me know if you want ya last meal to be my clip”. you pulled ur glock out just for the sake of it but nobody was paying any attention to you anyways.

iss a stick up at this point and them dudes know they’re outnumbered. OFC they backin up. connie got smoke comin out his ears so they’d be stupid not to.

he was still clutching his shit as the 3 guys backed up to the car. “and if I hear y'all got my woman name in y'all mouths again, ain't nothin savin y'all”.

you cut ur eyes at him bcs hello papi. “the fuck was that” ony muttering looking confused ash and eren was already walking back in the house looking unphased “idk”

“honestly fuck the controller.” connie grunted dragging you back to the car. “bruh. ima need ya pussy on my face an a shot after that” he said flashin them grills wit that smirk that you know means you gettin ur shit tore up…

[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.

[scribblesofagoonerr]

— Come get yer' kid!

brace yourself folks, this is a long one!

Thank you to @alotofpockets for helping me through the writers' block with certain parts.

I was gonna just keep this as 5 parts, but I love writing choas fc so I'm just gonna continue to write it until I get bored of it, whenever that happens.

pairings: kim little x reader, leah williamson x reader, awfc x reader

summary: the flight back to london and kim still can't catch a break, much to her surprise it's not reader causing the chaos this time though.

"Aye, Kimmy. Yer kids' quiet," The ever observant Katie McCabe nudges the Scots' woman and gestures to the seated area in the airport where your all but practically glued to Alessia.

"Shes' missing Kyra," Kim glances over to see you as she makes the brief explanation to the Irish girl, knowing the truth behind the reason for your sudden withdrawn behaviour, "And shes' not my kid. I'm just babysitting until we get back to London and then shes' Leah's problem again."

Katie snorts in amusement, "Takin' it pretty hard to not have her partner in crime, ain't she? I bet Williamsons' ecstatic to have the little menace back under her wing." She jokes with your captain.

"She'll be alright as soon as we board the flight," Kims' more than observant with your lack of your usual chaotic behaviour, but somehow she still feels like she needs to be on high alert in case you decide to pull another prank.

Kim was right about one thing though, you were definitely in a sulk about missing your best friend.

After a fun filled few days down under in Aus with the overall win from playing against the All Stars team, you were all now heading back to London.

Unforunately due to the fact that International break was right around the corner, it meant that you would have to endure the flight without the older Aussie girl considering that all three Matilda's players remained in Melbourne to catch the connected flight to their camp.

It's safe to say that you do feel a bit mopey about the situation and of course its' not long before the rest of the girls start to pick up on your distant personna.

"We're goin' to be boarding the flight soon, Y/N/N," Alessia glances down at you from where you've shifted your body to lean up against hers with your head tiredly resting on her shoulder, "Is everythin' alright, kid?"

You just decide it's easier to sit with one of the girls, who wouldn't try and bother as much to get a conversation out of you and your pretty familiar with Alessia through the England side of things, so you know that shes' a safe bet to sit by.

"Mhm," You barely even have any energy to respond.

Your response peaks Alessia's further concer that there's something wrong with you because having known for you as long as she has done, the only times' you known to be this withdrawn is either when your sick, tired or just upset about something, "Are you not feelin' well?" She wonders.

"M' fine," You mumble with your head buried in her neck, you were keeping your hood over your head with the hope that everyone else will leave you alone.

"Are you sad about something?" Alessia frowns in deeper concern, trying to figure out the reason for your quietness; Yeah, you were definitely sad.

"I guess so," You murmer in response, your eyes feel hazy with the lack of sleep but that's purely down to your own fault of staying awake most of the previous night.

Damn TikTok being a bad habit, one minute your scrolling through videos and the next thing you know its' 5 am, the suns' coming up and your being woken up to head to the airport.

Whoops?

"What's goin' on?" Alessia leans forward to try and be more observant, "Are you missing Kyra?" She questions, trying to figure out what could be getting you so down.

Are you that easy to read?

"Uh huh," You mumble quietly in agreement, "I'm too tired, Lessi." You add, trying to fight the sleepiness.

Alessia chuckles slightly and pats your back with her free hand, "Thats' why you should sleep instead of being on TikTok, eh?" She jokes as you lift your head up to face her just as quick, "You made the mistake of posting one of them videos into the group chat."

"Awh shucks," You mumble in realisation; Fantastic, another reason for one of the older "responsible" girls to lecture you, ie. the blonde English skipper, otherwise known as Malfoy to you now, "I'm not in the mood for one of Malfoy's lectures."

"What?" Alessia asks, confused, "Whos' Malfoy?" She's bewildered by the name.

"Le, Malfoys' her new code name cos' of that god-awful hair cut," You explain in the state of being half asleep.

The blonde couldn't help but stifle her laughter, "I don't think she'll be too happy to hear that." She jokes.

"I'm willing to take that risk of her shouting, because its' funny at least," You mumble tiredly as you let out a yawn, "Lessi? Can I sleep on the plane? I'm so tired."

"Sure kid, you can sleep on the plane," Alessia chuckles and pats your back, "Just try and stay awake until we board the flight at least. None of us want to carry you onto the plane." She adds.

"I can't promise that," Your voice is once again muffled in the crook of the older blondes' neck as you fight the urge to stay awake, "I'm so tired, but TikToks' addictive though to give up watching it."

"I don't think I've ever seen Y/N be this quiet before," Teyah jokes as she glances over to where your sat watching a movie on your iPad while still being leant up against Alessia.

"Unless shes' asleep," Katie remarks.

"Or she's sick," Vic chimes in, remembering the time where you came to training before and were too stubborn to admit you were feeling unwell.

You were more than aware that they were talking about you, but you were much too engrossed in the current Avengers film to even care about it.

The first flight from Melbourne had been fine, you had been able to peacefully sleep practically the whole flight; Luckily enough Alessia had taken pity on your tiredness and allowed you to all but lie right on her to snooze away, also making sure that nobody else woke you up either.

The connected flight from Dubai to London was a little different and with your newfound energy, you found yourself growing bored, fidgeting in your seat and being quickly aggitated when you couldn't get comfy until Alessia suggested that you watch a film to try and distract yourself for a bit, so therefor you're now sitting beside the blonde-- more like practically leaning on her while you watch the first Avengers film.

"She's too quiet. Are we sure that shes' not secretley plotting something?" Teyah wonders, hesistantly.

Katie shrugs her shoulders, "I'm not sure."

"You know how much she loves them Avengers films," Vic all but rolls her eyes; Its' true that you were a massive Marvels' fan, you wouldn't ever deny that - You bedroom walls were covered with posters, amongst other things and any time that you needed to wind down, you'd take yourself off to your bedroom, or a quiet place where ever you were to watch a film.

The Irish girl hums and tries to observe you closely, "Ere' Y/N! What's up with yer, kid?" She shouts across the plane to you.

"Leave her be, Katie, shes' fine," Kim gives the bruntte a pointed look.

Teyah snickers, "Are you sure? Shes' actually not being a pest for once!" She makes the snide remark.

"Yeh, only cos' she doesn't have her sidekick by her side. I've never seen her look so depressed..."

You finally had enough of the constant back and forth chat about you, besides they were ruining the perfect film.

Making sure to pause the film first so you don't miss any of it, you whip your head round to face the girls, "I can hear, you know!" You shout at them.

"Now look what you've done," Cloe pipes in, shaking her head.

"Y/N," Alessia tries to divert your attention back to the film rather than arguing with the older girls.

"What? They're talkin' about me behind me back-- And they're interrupting one of the greatest films made!" You whine in protest, shooting a glare at Katie and Teyah.

Kim exhales a sigh and pinches the bridge of her nose, "I knew it was too good to be true," She thinks to herself, "Y/N, just ignore them and watch the film. Katie, Teyah, you girls are old enough to know better than to wind her up!" She scolds them both.

"Y/N is the same age as Teyah," Katie reminds the Scots' women.

"Are you sure? The way she behaves sometimes says different," Emily chips in, amusedly.

"She has a point," Frida adds in.

Kim starts to rub her temples, "Just a few more hours, just a few more hours until we're off the plane," She repeats to herself. "Lets' just leave Y/N be, alright?" She tells the rest of the girls, sternly.

"Yeah," Katie and Teyah mumble in sync.

You can't help but help look Katie dead in the eye and stick your tongue out at her before you go back to watching the film.

"Y/N," Alessia chides, catching the rude face you had pulled at the Irish.

"What? I didn't do out," You protest innocently, trying to act like butter wouldn't melt.

Alessia definitely knew different as she laughed and slung her arm around your shoulder, leaving you to be so watch the film and enjoy the peace and quiet for the remainder of the flight, hopefully.

"Wha... What was that?" Kim shoots up from her seat and immediately sets her eyes' on you.

"What was what?" Cloe asks, confused.

"I just felt something hit the back of my neck-- Y/N!" Kims' straight to blame you for whatever it was that happened.

You poke your head up from your iPad to see your Captain looking less than happy, "What?" You question.

"What'd I tell you? No more pranks, or else!" Kims' still quick enough to scold you, thinking it had something to do with you.

"That weren't me, Kimmy. I've been watched the film-- Ask Alessia!" You protest, turning to look at the blonde for her to back you up.

Kim turns to look at the blonde girl, "Alessia?" She questions.

"Shes' right, Kim," Alessia nods in agreement, "Y/N has been practically glued to be the whole flight." She teases you, ruffling your hair which she knows' you all but hate when someone does that.

The Scots' women looks more than confused now, "Then who was it?" She wonders.

There's a few snickers around the plane and you poke your head round to spot where the laughters coming from; The Young Guns.

You weren't going to rat them out, you were actually quite impressed about being able to pull the prank off, even if it did mean that you were the one to get blamed for it.

"I don't know. Sure you're not imaging things now, Kimmy?" You joke with the older women, sure enough you were in sulking still about the lack of your best friend this flight but you had a spark of energy after your nap and would you really be yourself if you didn't act up even the slightest bit?

"Wha-- I know you had something to do with this, Y/N!" Kim is lost for words as shes' more than convinced it was you pulling the strings on the chaos.

"It wasn't me. How could I do that when I've been sat here the whole time?" You tell the Scots' women as you give her one of your famous cheeky grins.

"Yes, well-- Urgh. Enough of it, anyways. I don't want any more trouble the reaminder of the flight," Kim states sternly, wagging her finger in your face, "The sooner this plane lands, the better." She mutters to herself, walking back over to her own seat.

"It weren't even me!" You protest, miffed about the fact that you were automatically the one to get the blame for this.

Are you that predictable?

"Back in a minute. I need to loo," You make the quick excuse to the blonde, clambering over the seats before you head to where the academy players are all huddled around together, "Young Guns!" You shout in a low whisper.

"Hi Eagle 1," Mini Viv greets you.

"Whatever it was that you did, I got the blame for!" You huff in protest.

"We don't know what you're talking about," Noami replies.

You can't help but scoff and glance between all 6 of them who're trying to stifle their laughter, "I know you definitely did something. I know that look!" You insist.

"We didn't do anything," Maddie snickers.

"Yeah and well, if we did then we just learnt from the best," Laila remarks.

"Yeah but that's not the-- Wait, really? You really think I'm the best?" Your sidetracked by the compliment to continue to point your point across, "Seriously?"

"Yep," Maddie agrees.

Freya shrugs her shoulders, "We just wanted to have some fun. The flight is boring otherwise." She admits.

"I told them it was a bad idea," Mini Katie chips in, looking more apologetic than the other 5 of them.

You can't help but grin feeling a certain acomplishment, "Right, okay... I'm goin' back to my seats, but no more pranks. Mother Kimmys' convinced it' me and I'm toast if anything else happens!" You warn them.

Mini Viv mockingly salutes you, "You've got it, Eagle 1. No more pranks."

"Good," You glance between the 6 of them with a certain look, hoping it looks at least the bit immidating; After all, you have a great mentor when it comes to it, "I'm going back to my seat before Less starts to wonder where I am."

"Guys, should we have told her about us switching the luggage or leave it as a suprise for her to find out?" Noami questions in a hushed whisper.

"Nah, leave it. At least we won't be in the firing line then," Laila jokes with the rest of the Academy players.

"Freedom!" You exclaim, jumping up from your seat the minute that you touch down in Lonndon; You couldn't wait to be off the plane and be able to run around again.

"Someones' eager to get off, huh?" Cloe jokes, spotting you from her seat as she watches you to try and rush off the plane the second you can.

"It's almost hard to believe that Y/N was this quiet on the plane," Emily chimes in.

"Yeah, you wouldn't think it now," Vic snickers, noting your usual energetic self again.

"Lemme off! I need fresh air!" You insist, wanting nothing more than to be off the plane, having had enough of being confided inside of it.

With that being said, as soon as the moment came where you could exit the plane, you pretty much sprint from your seat and out of the door, running down the steps onto the tarmac ahead of the rest of the girls.

"And shes' off," Alessia chuckles, shaking her head.

"Y/N! Don't run off!" Kims' back to stressing about you as she rushes to try and catch up with you, knowing the busy airport that you're no doubt bound to get lost inside if you get far, "Come back here!"

"Freedom!" You exclaim, throwing your arms up in the air as you run around like a complete maniac in that moment.

"Run, Y/N. Run!" The Young Guns shout in encouragement.

"Y/N! Come 'ere!" Kim shouts in frustration, trying to get a hold of you while your running about.

"I'm free!" You shout aloud like a mad man.

"Y/N, come back here-- We're about to go into a crowded airport!" Kim continues to shout frantically, catching up with you and taking a hold of your upper bicep.

"Ay, Kimmy-- Lemme go, I want a taste of freedom!" You whine and try to wriggle away, all you want to do is run around but the Scots' women is pretty reluctant to let go anytime soon.

"I'm not letting go, I can't trust that you won't run off again!" Kim states, sternly.

You still continue to try and break free from her grasp, "I won't do it again. Lemme go!"

"Mhm, I don't believe that-- Come on!" With that being said, Kim tugs you in the direction of the airport with the rest of the girls.

At least while you went through security, the Scot' had the kindness to realise her grip before you all head over to reclaim your baggage.

Low and behold did you or the rest of the team know what had happened to it.

Of course you were the one to get the blame for it without even a second thought.

"Oh hold on, I need to grab my power bank before we leave the airport," Katie speaks up in realisation, "My phones' almost dead."

"There's always one," Teyah jokes, rolling her eyes.

Katie unzips her suitcase, or at least what she thinks is hers, "Why can't I find it? I swear I packed it-- Hold on, this one ain't even mine!" She exclaims, confused as she continues to dig around in it, "Who's is this?" She questions, turning to the rest of the group.

"That's mine," Sarah chimes in.

Katie huffs and passes the suitcase to her, "You must've got mine then?" She questions, accepting the suitcase before she opens it up to have no luck there either, "What? This ones' not even mine!" She states, annoyed about the situation.

With that being said, Katie begins to start literally ripping open each and every suitcase, scouring through to find the correct one.

"They've all been messed up!" Vic points out in realisation.

"Really? No shit sherlock," Teyah teases the Dutch girl.

"What's going on?" Kim asks, confused as she overhears the commotion.

"The baggage has all been mixed up," Alessia exhales a sigh.

"Y/N," Kim mutters, pinching the bridge of her nose; At the news of this, your Captain is literally stood there seething in anger while you're non the wiser, distracted by the colourful logos' in the airport of a nearby shop where you spot lego.

"Of course it was her," Katie remarks, huffing in annoyance.

"Ah, no. Y/N, come back here, right now!" Kims' quick to spot you making a run for it in the direction, "Y/F/N, get back here!" She shouts through the airport.

"O... Ow, Kimmy!" You flinch in shock as you feel the pain of your ear being yanked, "Lemme go! Lemme go, I just want the Lego!" You state, not seeing the big deal about it; In your opinion, it looked so cool!

"Absolutely not! No!" Kims' firm in her words as she believes your the one thats' behind the whole mix up of the bags, "Why can't you not just behave for once? This is gettin' beyond a joke now, Y/F/N!"

"O... Ow! This hurts-- Lemme go!" You continue to whine and writh around in pain, your definitely not a fan of this but you don't see what the huge fuss was about you running off to look at the Lego, "I just wanted to look at the Lego, its' not a big deal!"

"I'm not talkin' about the lego, Y/N. You mixed up the bags!" Kim points the finger at you for the blame, "Don't even try to deny it-- I knew you were up to something!" The Scots' women scolds you.

"What? That wasn't even me!" You whine, trying to break free from the Scots' women.

"Like I believe that, Y/N-- This is completely out of order!" Kim states, sternly as she drags you in the direction back to the bags, "I can't believe you-- You can't ever stop causing trouble!" She scolds.

Your at a complete loss for words, you had no idea what she was talking about but the pain in your ear really was hurting a lot the more that Kim continued to hold it tightly, "I don't... I don't-- It wasn't me. Let go, it hurts!" You complain.

"The Young Guns have a confession," Katie speaks up as you both approach them all again; It turns out that while Kim was chasing you around the airport, the Young Guns decided to come clean.

"Oh?" Kim blinks and looks between the 6 academy players.

"Go ahead," Teyah nudges Freya to speak.

"Uh... It's about the baggage..." Freya begins.

"That wasn't Y/N," Maddie continues to say.

Mini Viv scratches the back of her neck, "Er, yeah, it was us instead."

"We just wanted to have some fun," Laila chips in.

"Yeah, the flight was borin' and wanted to do something," Noami states.

"I was completely against it-- I told them it was a bad idea!" Mini Katie insists, seeing the fury in the Scots' facial expression and not wanting to be on the wrong side of her Captain.

Kim exhales a sigh, easing her grip on your ear as she pinches the bridge of her nose, "Right, I see. Well, thank you for being honest," She states.

You stare at the Scots' women in disbelief, "Thats' it? That's all your gonna say-- You yanked me by me ear across the airport and they just get off scot free? What the actual fuck!" You exclaim, annoyed.

"Calm down, Y/N," Alessia can clearly tell your annoyed and tries to defuse the situation.

"Calm down? Nah, sod that! If... If that were me then I actually would've been in trouble-- That's not fair!" You whine, huffing and puffing and stomping your feet around to cause a scene.

"That's enough, Y/N," Kim cuts in, her voice remaining firm, "I don't care who did it, they've admitted it now lets' grab our things and get out of here so we can go and meet the rest of the girls.

"I didn't... I didn't even get to look at the lego!" You huff in annoyance, kicking the ground beneath you as you sulk behind the rest of the girls, "I want to at least look at that!"

"I don't think so!" Kims' quick to grip a hold of your ear again as you're reluctantly pulled in the direction of where Leah, Lia, Beth and Viv are all waiting for you, "Leah! Come get yer' kid. I'm done babysittin' now!" She exclaims.

"Kimmy, lemme go-- This hurts!" You still try and break free from the Scots' womens' grip, but to no avail shes' still reluctant to let go.

"Hi, girls. Good trip?" Lia greets you all as you walk over to them.

Katie scoffs, "You could say so."

"It's been eventful," Alessia chimes in.

"So, we heard you might need one of these?" Beth smirks, holding up one of Myles' leashes in her hand as she looks you dead in the eye.

"What-- No!" You protest against the idea, scowling at the blonde, whos' finding complete humour in the situation.

Leah furrows her eyebrows in confusion as she catches up to you all, "Dare I ask what happened?" She asks.

"Y/N's just having a tantrum over lego and other things," Vic jokes.

Judging by Leahs' stoic facial expression, you guess that shes' less than happy to hear that.

"I'm never babysittin' again!" Kim states, releasing her grip on your ear as she pushes you in the direction of the blonde, "Shes' your problem now."

With that being said, Kim all but takes a hold of her luggage and starts to walk off from the rest of the group.

"Wait, no-- Hey Kim, hold on!" Leah calls out to her in sudden realisation, "We still need you to babysit when we go to camp!"

"No, no, nope. Absolutely not!" Kim shouts back in response without even turning round, "Theres' not a single chance that I'm taking care of that menace any time soon-- I need a break!" She exclaims.

"C'mon Kim, we can hardly take her to camp with us!" Beth pleads with the Scots' women.

Kim scoffs and shakes her head, "That's your problem girls, figure it out yourself!" That being said, shes' quick to make her exit out of the airport and you bet no doubt the first place shes' heading to is the nearest off license.

"You know I'm 19, right? I can take care of myself just fine-- Alright, I'll just shut up then..." You go to protest, but judging by the look that you get from all four older girls, you just decide to shut up.

"Poor Kim," Lia exhales, shaking her head.

Viv hums in agreement, "Yeah, poor Kim indeed."

"I thought I told you to behave?" Leah exhales a sigh while she looks at you in disappointment.

You were now back home, you had to deal with the scolding of a lifetime which still didn't end even when you arrived back at the flat you shared with the blonde.

Which led you to know, where the blonde was still telling you off for everything dumb and idiotic in her own words that you've done over the past few days.

"I did-- I just wanted to look at lego!" You whine, trying to justify the reasoning for your need to run off in the airport.

"Oh, really? So Kim literally dragging you through the airport by your ear was for no reason at all, was it?" Leah questions with a raised eyebrow as she unlocks the front door.

Busted.

"I hope you know that you're grounded," Leah states, firmly.

"What! Why?" Your eyes widen in disbelief.

"Because I quite clearly remember telling you to behave and you clearly didn't," Leah explains the reasoning as she continues with her usual stern facial expresion, "Therefor, you are grounded."

"You can't ground me-- I'm 19!" Your quick to protest, knowing there was probably no use in even doing that.

Leah has the audacity to smirk at you, "Oh, well that's where you're wrong there, sunshine. My house, my rules."

You continue to widen your eyes in disbelief, "What!? That's not... That's not even fair!" You whine, like the ever mature adult you are.

"It is more than fair, Y/N," Leah states, firmly as she looks you dead in the eye, "From what it seems like, between you and Kyra, you've both tormented Kim the whole trip. We had a conversation about this, didn't we? The reason for you being grounded is more than justified and I'm not going to change my mind anytime soon."

"Meany," You mumble, staring down at your shoes.

"Great, so we can't leave her alone and nor can we take her with us," Leah huffs aloud, talking about you like you weren't even there with Lia, Beth and Viv who also came back to the flat with you both since they all seemed to have shared one car.

"What do we do?" Lia questions.

"Well, there is a third option," Beth chimes in.

"What's that?" Leah furrows' her eyebrows in confusion.

Beth starts to turn to look at Viv with a coy smirk on her face, "Viv could you..."

"No, no, definitely not!" Vivs' quick to catch on to what her girlfriend was about to say and protests against the idea, "You heard what Y/N was like in Melbourne, I'm goin' to Scotland-- I'm not dealing with that!"

Spoiler alert, you do in fact end up going to Scotland.

© scribblesofagoonerr

[tomblythismyhusband]

hiiiii this is a request for billy!!!

what about a smutty fic where reader is riding billy while wearing his hat!? 🤍🤍

the only reason why i didn’t make this anon is so i can get the notif if you reply 😭😭

ride [billy the kid x fem!reader]

[summary]: billy the kid x fem!reader | When at a party your father was throwing, you meet Billy, a cowboy that spikes your interest.

[warnings]: 18+ MDNI, teasing, pnv, fingering, language, other smut warnings yk, edited this at 2am

[wc]: 2.8k

[note]: thank you sm for the request!! y’all are creative

You hated it when your father threw parties at the ranch. They always got too crowded, too loud, and way too dangerous. You see, cowboys and alcohol weren't always the best mix. Groping hands and lustful stares always came along with it. Your father always wanted you to be present at his little gatherings, to socialize or whatnot.

You dreaded small talk with the other girls present and weren’t interested in any of the drunken cowboys that always made fools of themselves trying to woo you. You stood there, arms crossed, pressed against the wall. Observing. The air was thick with smoke, the smell filling your lungs causing your nose to scrunch slightly.

“How’s it goin’ lil lady?” A voice sounded from your right, causing you to wince. You could practically smell the whiskey of the man’s breath without even turning to face him. Deciding to be polite you directed your attention to the man. It was a blonde cowboy. He was about 5’8”, not insanely tall but not short either. He had an unsettling feeling about him that made you feel immediately uncomfortable.

You gave him a strained smile. “It’s going well.”

The cowboy gave you a drunken smile, leaning his shoulder against the wall limply. “I like yer dress, lace is my favorite. Why… ain't you just a doll.”

You kept your smile, your cheeks hurting with tension at the forced action. “Thank you.” You replied, giving a curt nod.

The man drew closer, making your chest pump with anxiety. You always hated when men thought they could invade your space just because you were a woman. You took a slight step back causing the man to let out a low chuckle.

“You nervous doll? I ain’t gonna hurt ya. You know if you’d follow me I know a nice place we can… well you know….” He slurred, drawing one of his hands up to touch one of the strands of hair cascading over your shoulders. You jolted back, immediately slamming into someone.

Firm hands placed themselves on your shoulders as you ran into whoever it was. You turned your head, looking up quickly. “I’m sor-“

Your eyes connected with the bluest eyes you'd ever seen. You hadn’t thought the phrase “taking your breath away” was true until this moment. You couldn’t breathe. The man before you was gorgeous. Soft brown curls peaked out from under his hat that he wore, framing the sharp angles of his face nicely. The light freckles on his face indicating he’d been in the sun.

“You ok?” He said in a low voice, snapping you out of your trance. You glanced at the blonde cowboy who was still staring at you as if you were a piece of meat. The brown haired cowboy cocked an eyebrow, noticing your discomfort and pleading eyes. He cleared his throat and stared at the blonde man.

“Were you botherin’ my lady?” He asked accusingly towards the man, stepping slightly in front of you. God he was tall.. he seemed to tower over you. The blonde cowboy’s face immediately paled.

“N-no I wa-“ He stuttered.

“No? Then get the fuck out of here.” The brown haired cowboy snapped.

The blonde cowboy gave an incoherent mumble before storming away. You released the breath you were holding in and looked up at the gorgeous man who had just helped you.

“Thank you. I hate talking to men like that.” You sighed. The man laughed. (which made you realize how perfect his lips were as well)

“Men like that?” He chuckled.

You nodded. “Always too drunk and grabby all the time. No respect for anyone’s space.” You made a face of disgust that made the man before you flash another lopsided grin.

“Well.. anytime.” He gave you a smile “What’s your name?” The man asked, leaning up against the wall and crossing his arms. He stepped back, respectfully giving you room to talk. The action alone made your heart thump as your eyes trailed up his body. Even through his shirt you could tell he had some muscle to him.

“Oh- Uhm.. Y/n. Y/n Charles.” You nodded.

The man’s eyes widened. “Oh so this is your ranch? Your father’s always throwin’ parties like this huh?”

You gave him a weak smile. “Yep.. fun right?” You said sarcastically.

He let out another chuckle before looking at you again.

“Billy.” He said lowly, slightly bowing his head.

You tilted your head. Where had you heard that name before? You tried to jog your memory but it was no use. Maybe you had heard your father talking about him, or maybe some girls down at the salon.

“Billy..” You repeated, smiling up at him. “I like it.”

Billy chuckled. “Glad you like it.”

It was weird talking with Billy. You felt a bubble of desire in your stomach that you had never felt when talking to any other man. Now all of a sudden you were imagining his hands on your body, his lips on yours. You thought of his hair, wondering how it would feel if you’d drag your fingers through it.

You stared up at him, and he stared back. It wasn’t awkward, no, it was almost as if you both had an understanding. An understanding of mutual attraction. Billy wet his lips.

He leaned a bit closer, his scent filling your nose. “I know we just met but… your intrestin’ to me.” He said in a low voice.

A small smile pulled at your mouth. “I could say the same…”

Billy leaned in even closer, breath brushing the outside of your ear gently as he spoke. “We could go to your room.. get to know each other better?” His voice was rough, full of unsaid desires that made your heart palpate.

“Are you implying something a lady should be ashamed to talk about?” You teased in a whisper. Billy let out a low chuckle.

“Is that where your mind is at?” He taunted, meeting your gaze. You reached up your fingers and dragged them against the brim of his hat.

“Would it be bad if it was?” You smiled, cocking your head slightly. Billy smirked. He liked how playful you were being.

Billy’s hand found yours and he squeezed it gently, pulling you closer to him. “No… It wouldn’t.” He murmured, making your breath quicken.

You made a little tsk sound and pulled away from him. “You think I’m that easy?” You chuckled. “Nice try cowboy.” You cooed, tapping the tip of his nose playfully. Billy’s eyes widened briefly before his mouth pulled into a smirk.

“Your decision darlin’… See ya, gorgeous.” He tipped his hat then turned to walk away. You watched as he sauntered back into the crowds of people. You bit your lip as your mind replayed the interaction you just had with him. He had called you gorgeous. You couldn’t deny the fact that you found him insanely attractive- perfect even. Why were you playing hard to get? You weren’t sure why.

You continued to roam about the party, talking mindlessly with the ladies there. You tried your hardest to stay engaged in the conversations but your thoughts were still on Billy. Would it be so bad to fool around with him? Even if it was just for tonight? You couldn’t ignore the pulsing feeling in your core when you thought about it. Fuck it.

You excused yourself from whatever and whoever you were talking about quickly and started to glance around for Billy. It was still insanely crowded in the house, causing you to have to constantly say “excuse me” just to get anywhere. You searched the living room for his blue eyes but he wasn’t there. You felt a pang of fear that he had just decided to leave.

Gracefully, you slipped out of the living room and started to make your way down one of the dark hallways of your home. It was empty. The loud clamoring of the party was still heard as you walked, heels clicking on the creaking floorboards.

The bathroom door was also in this hall. You heard it open and turned. There he was.

“Billy-“ You said breathlessly. Billy’s mouth quirked up into a smirk.

“Y/n. Nice to see you again.” He joked.

You walked closer to him, tilting your head up to make eye contact. “Do you want to….”

“Yes.” He replied roughly, cutting you off before you could even finish. He grabbed your hand and led you down the hall and up the stairs, causing you to let out a little chuckle.

Once reaching the top of the stairs, you led the way, guiding him to your bedroom door. You opened it quickly. Billy was the first to step inside, pulling you in after him and immediately shutting the door. He looked around for a moment, taking note of what kind of girl you were. Your bed was made, the room tidy, and flower patterns on almost anything.

“Like it?” You teased, meeting his piercing gaze. He chuckled.

“Darlin’ do you have the key for the lock?”

You nodded quickly, striding over to your beside table to dig for the key in one of the drawers. Once found, you hurriedly locked the door with a simple click.

Upon hearing the sound Billy instantly grabbed your hips and pushed you up against the door. You dropped the key onto the ground, not caring where it ended up. You just wanted Billy right now.

You felt Billy’s bulge pressed into you, making you gasp. By no means were you a virgin- but you weren’t used to this.

“Fuck doll…” Billy rasped. “I don’t know how respectable I can be to you right now..” His grip on your hips tightened. Billy was restraining himself. Even though all he wanted to do right now was to tear off every piece of lacy cloth you were wearing he was holding himself back. You snaked your hands up to place themselves on his shoulders.

“Don’t hold back- I’m all yours tonight.” Before you could even get the last word out, his lips were on yours. The reassurance was helpful, making Billy feel as if you really wanted this. Which you did. Desperately.

Billy’s lips worked against yours with a roughness you’d never known you’d liked. One of his hands wrapped around your neck, pulling you flush against his lips even more. He tasted sweet, the softness of his mouth making you almost melt into him.

He still had his hat on- which you didn’t mind, you liked it. You soon felt his fingers leave your hips and neck and trail down and move to your back, where the laces of your corset were. His hands moved quickly, untying it with ease. You lifted your arms up and broke the kiss as he pulled it off of you and threw it to the side.

His hands then pulled at your dress as you took his lips back onto yours, unbuttoning and buttons needed and letting it slip off your shoulders and onto the floor. He parted from your lips to look down at the lacy cami and cloth shorts you were left in.

“Darlin’ you're just too much.” He groaned, his hands cupping your ass.

You smirked up at him and moved your hand to slide down one of his suspenders. “Let me see you.”

He complied instantly and started to tear off his clothes. When he lifted his shirt you could help but gasp. He was toned, muscled, scarred, perfect. He threw his shirt to the side and you reached a hand to trace a faint scar on his abdomen.

“Knife fight.” He said softly as he unzipped his pants, loving how curious you were. Your hands felt soft on his body, so gentle.

Your eyes flicked up to his. “You're perfect.” Billy chuckled at this, pulling your body closer to his as his pants fell to the ground.

“You're one to talk. I’ve ain’t never seen anyone as gorgeous as ya..” He reached up to take off his hat, but before he could throw it aside you grabbed it.

“Darlin what-?”

“Shh….” You coaxed, grabbing his hand and leading him to the bed. You pushed him gently to sit, and he immediately complied, liking this side of you. You put on the hat with a giggle and shimmied out of your cotton shorts. Billy’s cock twitched in his underwear at the sight. It felt like you were torturing him, depriving him of the touch he starved for.

Next you slid off your cami, letting your breasts sit nicely on your figure, throwing that to the side as well. You stepped forward and bent down slightly to place a palm on Billy’s bulge. He immediately let out a pained moan. “Your tourturin’ me doll.”

You giggled as you ran your other hand down his shoulder. “I could go even slower.” You teased.

Then unexpectedly Billy grabbed your hips and pulled you onto him, causing your let out a yelp of surprise. Billy immediately places his lips on one of your nipples, kissing and swirling his tongue around the area.

“No fair.” You gasped. His hands ran all over your body, as well as his lips.

Billy let out a chuckle, the voice sending a vibrating feeling through your body. “Another second and I would’ve gone crazy darlin’.”

You melted under his touch, his calloused fingertips adding to the realness of his hands. You pulled your fingers through his hair as he kissed your collarbones.

“I need more.” You whined.

Billy smirked. “And to think you had brushed me off the first time I offered this to you down stairs…..”

“Please-“ You begged again. Billy cupped your ass in response to lift you off of his lap so he could yank down the only fabric of his boxers separating him from your cunt.

You looked down at his cock as you straddled him. It was big, you’d never seen one this big before. You bit your lip, Billy squeezed your hips and kissed your jaw.

“Ready darlin’…” He mumbled against your skin. You nodded and he lifted you up, positioning your body over his throbbing cock. You sunk down letting out a strained moan as he filled you up. You were now sitting entirely on him, stretching out the walls of your soaked cunt.

“Take me s’good.” Billy rasped as you started to grind your hips. One of your hands flew up to hold Billy’s hat that still was placed snug on your head. You were so wet he slid right in, no issue. You slowly began to move up and down with Billy assisting you by lifting your hips.

You tilted your head back, squeezing your eyes shut, still keeping the hat on your head. Breathy moans escaped your lips as you moved. Billy picked up the pace, slamming you harder down onto his cock rhythmically.

“Fuck-“ You whimpered as he let out a groan.

“Ride me so good..” He mumbled. His own head was limp as he moved you faster and faster on his cock. Right now you were perfect. So tight. Molded perfectly for him. Your free hand dug into his shoulder. The nail marks left on him would be deep by the end of this.

You rode him harder as tears prickled in your eyes. Every time he slammed into you your body vibrates with pleasure. The tip of his cock hitting your g-spot with precision.

Billy took one of his hands off your hips and moved it to start massaging circles on your clit, adding to the pleasure. You paused your moment for a moment, not expecting the added stimulation. You head slumped onto Billy’s shoulder, body shaking.

You felt Billy’s mouth brush against your ear. "C' mon darlin’.. I’m almost there… You're doing so well.” He praised.

You gave a weak nod and started to move again, a throaty moan escaping Billy’s lips. With his fingers on your clit and his cock slamming your walls you were in heaven.

“Almost there doll.” He groaned again, kissing your neck as you moved on him, your stamina decreasing by the second. You felt the knot in your stomach tighten, a sign that you were getting closer.

“Billy-“ You breathed, arching your back, holding his hat still firm on your head.

“I know darlin’, I know..” He murmured as he closed his eyes and let his mouth fall open. You watched as he came, filling your already overstimulated cunt with his cum. Your orgasm hit you as well, sending your body into a fit of shakiness.

You became still, his cock still throbbing with pleasure as you clung to him, your bodies slick with sweat. Billy brushed some of your hair from your forehead and kissed it.

“I like how you kept my hat on.” Billy smirked, looking down at you. “Suits ya.”

You let out a breathless chuckle. “Thank you.”

You tilted your head up to kiss his soft lips. He seemed so tender now, so gentle.

Finally after a while of kissing you slid off of him, cum dripping down your thighs.

“When can I see you again Y/n?” He drawled, holding your waist so you were still close to him.

“Anytime you want to get your hat back.” You teased.

Billy’s eyebrows raised with amusement. “You keepin’ it?”

You kissed his nose. “It’s mine now.”

[ddejavvu]

can you write something about how the gang handles a really emotional Curtis sister... Like she literally doesn't even know why shes crying most of the time she just is. She is literally me

send me requests for the outsiders!

--

At Dallas's groan, "Ah, here come the fuckin' waterworks again," all eyes are on you. You'd been hoping to fly under the radar, but now that seven pairs of eyes are staring at you, your tears escape hot and free down your cheeks.

"It's- I'm fine!" You insist, voice thick and choppy as you rush for the bathroom. You don't shut the door, because even if you did you know someone would have barged in. It's predictably Darry and Soda, but Two-Bit lingers in the hallway, peering in worriedly.

"You're okay, kid." Darry encourages you, a strong hand on your shoulder to help you get yourself under control, "Somethin' the matter?"

"What's with the tears, Baby Curtis?" Two asks, "Movie gettin' to 'ya?"

It's a horror movie- it's safe to say you're not sniffling over blood and guts.

"No, it's-" You sniffle, letting Sodapop tug you into his side where he's now perched on the lid of the toilet. He slings an arm around your waist and you lean gratefully into his side, thankful for the pressure of a body against yours.

"It's nothing. I don't know." You shrug helplessly, and Two smiles- kindly, not teasingly.

"You've got a condition or somethin'." He decides, traipsing back into the living room, "We oughta turn you in to a doctor, have them diagnose you with some crazy new brain condition. Maybe they could name it after you, kid."

"Yeah, Crybaby Curtis syndrome," Steve snickers, and Soda shouts a halfhearted, 'Be nice!' to his friend despite not being able to see him.

"Lay off, Steve," Johnny groans, and you hear Ponyboy chime in with a fervent, 'Yeah!' that he would have kept to himself had Johnny not led the charge. Despite having the upper hand, Ponyboy still struggles to pick fights with Steve. Usually it's a losing battle.

"Come on, kiddo." Darry urges, and Soda sticks close to your side as you shuffle back into the living room. Dallas doesn't move aside to give you your old seat back where he's stretched out over half of it, but he also doesn't protest when you throw your leg over his own to fit on the cushion.

"You've gotta man up, kid." Dally decides, snatching his cigarette out of his mouth and blowing the smoke into your face, "Can't be burstin' into tears all the time. People are gonna think you're weak."

"I am weak," You concede feebly, wiping at one last tear that streaks down your cheeks, "I don't know why it happens most'uh the time. Just does."

"Some people are just like that." Johnny smiles kindly at you, and you appreciate his sweetness, "We ain't gonna judge you."

"It'll be great for gettin' out of trouble," Sodapop grins mischieviously at you, "Just think, when you're a wild child in high school, and you're comin' home drunk at 2AM, Darry's gonna yell at you. Just flash him those teary eyes of yours and he'll get all soft for 'ya, he'll let you off real easy."

"Hey- Don't you go givin' her any ideas." Darry points a warning finger at Soda, and Ponyboy scoffs, surely jealous at the prospect of your secret weapon.

You share a secret smile with Soda, though, one that's hidden from both of your brothers. Two-Bit catches it and snorts, "Damn, Darry. I'm not itchin' to be you in a few years."

"Well then you'd better start hangin' out at your own house every once in a while," Darry glares at him, "You spend so much time here I'm gonna give you a chore on the chore chart."

"I don't even do chores at my own place," Two-Bit snickers, like the suggestion is the funniest one he's ever heard. He stretches his arm out behind your head, resting it on your far shoulder, "Just call me whenever you're goin' to those parties, Y/N, and I'll get drunker'n you, make you look like a saint in comparison."

"Dally's a saint in comparison to you, Two-Bit," Ponyboy gripes, "Just don't climb through my window expecting me to help you sneak past Darry."

"Now I mean it, boys," Darry snaps, "Don't go givin' her ideas! Conversation over."

Dallas waits all of three seconds before leaning down, tucking his face beside your ear so that he can drawl, "I'll teach you how to sneak past him if you can go without cryin' for a day."

"Deal." You hold out a pinky for him to link with his own, and if anyone else in Tulsa had offered it, they'd have gotten slugged. Instead, Dallas's finger curls around yours, and he shoots you a shit-eating grin, eyes glimmering dangerously, "24 hours, crybaby. Don't let me down."

[marshallsgirl]

Marshall revealing his new song to Y/N

Pairing: Eminem x Fem¡Reader

Warnings: 🔞 MATURE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

Recommended song: Remind Me - Eminem, In Too Deep - Eminem

Author's note: Hey, guys! I was so bored and I wrote this. I may delete it later or idk. Hope you all enjoy it. I love you guys so much! Sending all of you a warm hug🫂🤍

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■♡■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

"I have a surprise for you" Marshall said to me as he enter the living room. Inmediatly I turn off the tv and give all my attention to him. "Guess what" he said.

"What?"

"The song is complete!"

"Whoa baby!"

Here's the thing. He told me he was writting a song about us, but that's it. He didn't talk about ever again. Even if I asked him about it he had changed the topic. So, I was very nervous about it. Because this has happened before. It was with the Revival album. That one song called Remind Me. That one was for me. I still remember when he show me that song.

" did you...That's my fav rock&roll song!" I said when I heared the beat.

"Yeah, that's the song you kept singin' and singin' while you're cooking" he said wanted to laugh at me.

I loved that song. Perfect combination but it was crazy. I mean...he did that for me? He united rock&roll and rap that was so crazy.

"Damn, that's crazy babe" I said.

"See y/n, u make me do things I normally wouldn't do"

"Awww, I love it and I love you baby!"

So, this time I was really nervous because I've been singin' a lot and very different genres. And Marshall...Well, he is so crazy. I didn't know what to expect.

"Are we going to the studio?" I asked him ready to go change if needed.

"No, let's just get in the car". So, we got inside his car. "Are u okay?" suddenly he asked me.

"Yeah, I'm good! I need to hear your song!"

I got too excited and I get very excited when I'm nervous I don't know why, but It's like I got a lot of energy all of the sudden. Anyways, so he says:

"Okay, okay but you need to know that I just got the final mix and I haven't heard it. I mean I know the entire song but I didn't hear the final mix yet" he explained.

"Omg..."

"What?"

"Wait, let me just make myself comfortable" I said while adjustin' my seat a little bit.

At this point he doesn't even hide that he's laughing at me.

"Ready?"

"Yeah, ready"

"Wait, look at me" he ordered and I obey. "I love you"

"Okay, now play the song!"

"Yo, say it back!" he replied.

"I love you, babe!"

And so the music started and he is lip singin': "This could never work, " is what we said at first. But whatever this is, it's working. But we're in two different worlds and (yeah) I'm not your husband (nah), you ain't my girlfriend. All I know is that (what?) When I'm with you, I'm a different person, yeah. And I ain't never met a chick as perfect. Girl, you're a ten, so here I am (yeah)

I literely screamed and Marshall had to stop the music.

"No, keep it goin'!" I argue.

He laughed and let the music continue: ...Can't tell if I'm cheating on her with you or cheating on you with her. But really, nobody's at fault, can't help who you love. Hope they don't ever hear us talk

'Cause we both are getting sloppy. Probably subconsciously part of me's hoping we get caught 'cause I'm not happy here (nah)

With her. Rather have you (yeah) Rather have me too. 'Cause you're not happy there (you're not happy there) With him. Rather have me (I know, but) We just in too deep (I'm in way too deep)

Marshall started singin' it out loud and I was vibin' with it the whole time. It was a good damn song. Honestly, I loved it. It truly was about us, about the start of our relationship, but there were a few things that weren't true like me havin' a wedding ring. It should say: I got a wedding ring. So it's her instead of you.

"That's it. What do u think?" he said not being able to stop smilin'

"Please, play the song one more time"

And he started to laugh again.

"Marshall!"

"Are for real? Did you loved it?" he was surprised.

"Yes, I love it!"

"Y/n..." he laughs again.

"Marshall! You're being so freakin' annoying. Play the song one more time!"

"Yo, you are just sayin that. You didn't loved it!"

"What? I do love it! Marshall!"

"Okay, okay"

He played the song again.

"I'm gonna cry" I said.

"Yo, you're hillarious!"

"That song is good as hell!"

[janiehellion]

Close Quarters

ONESHOT

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Trapped overnight by a horde of walkers during a supply run, you and Daryl Dixon find yourselves in close quarters with nothing but time on your hands. But can you keep your hands to yourself?

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: DARYL DIXON X FEM!READER

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: SMUT / LANGUAGE / ORAL SEX / BELLY KINK

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2.664

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ's ɴᴏᴛᴇ: This oneshot is inspired by a post from & dedicated to @ophelialaufey on Tumblr.

MASTERLIST & REQUEST GUIDELINES

"Keep ya eyes open," Daryl grunted and kept walking. His crossbow hung over his shoulder as his eyes looked left and right in search of any danger. He wasn't much for words, more action than unnecessary chit-chat, but you didn't complain. 

Today's task had been simple: Scavenge for as many supplies as you could until night began to fall, and then get back to the safety of the group. And that's exactly what you did, with your supply run partner being once again: Daryl Dixon.

You only nodded, holding your own weapon tightly. For all his rough exterior, you trusted him with your life. Over the last months, you've seen Daryl in action a lot of times already; to your eyes, he seemed to be one of the best survivors among the group. But tonight felt a bit off. It didn't feel like any other supply run; you were uncomfortable, and you just couldn't shake the feeling that something was likely to go wrong.

As the last rays of daylight finally vanished, sudden growls came from out of nowhere. You and Daryl immediately stopped dead in your tracks, your hearts racing in your chest as you realized that a small horde of walkers approached. Still, there were too many to take on, and running was definitely out of line. You had to find shelter, and fast.

"This way," Daryl whispered, tugging at your arm to lead you toward a building. He pushed open the door, and both of you slipped inside, shutting it as quietly as you could behind you. The room was dark and full of dust and the familiar smell of decay.

"Looks like we're in here for the time," Daryl said, walking over to a window and looking out through a gap. "They ain't goin' anywhere anytime soon."

You sighed, trying to steady your breathing. The reality of the situation was hitting you. Being stuck in this tiny, dark room with Daryl Dixon—with a horde of the undead outside—was just what you needed. 

Daryl, meanwhile, turned away from the window and explored the room further, but then he suddenly stopped and faced you. "Gonna need to check for scratches," he said, leaving very little room in his tone for argument. "Help me with my shirt."

"Okay, I guess..." You stepped closer, your hands shaking slightly as you reached for the hem of his shirt before you lifted it slowly to reveal his stomach. His skin was rough and scarred from the years of survival, but to you, it was mesmerizing.

"See anythin' on my back?" He asked, his eyes boring into yours.

You shook your head, trying to focus. "No, you're... definitely clear."

"Thanks," he said gruffly, pulling his shirt back down. His fingers brushed against your hand as he did, and for a brief moment, you both froze, but the sudden sound of a distant groan made Daryl’s eyes snap back to the window. "Damn it," he mumbled, annoyed. "We should make sure this place is safe."

You followed him as he began to inspect the room, moving from one corner to another. "You need any help?" You asked, trying to keep the stutter out of your voice.

He glanced over at you, his eyes not giving away anything. "Just stay outta the damn way."

You took a step back, feeling a bit disappointed. There was something almost painful about the way he kept you at arm’s length, like a barrier you could never cross. Yet, it only intensified your need to break through his walls.

He still hadn't found anything, so you turned your attention to an old armchair in the corner of the room. You walk over to it, brushing off some of the dust, thinking it might be a good place to take a seat and wait out the night. But in your approach, you had knocked over a few empty glass bottles, which shattered on the floor.

"Be careful, woman," he snapped at you. "Ya wanna attract more of 'em and get us killed?"

You immediately apologized and bent over to pick up the pieces, your face blushing with embarrassment. "Sorry, I didn't mean to."

Soon enough, he was done checking out the room, and he sat down in the armchair that you cleaned off. "Looks like we're stuck here for the night," he said, though not to you in particular.

Meanwhile, you sat down on the floor across from him, trying to get comfortable. Daryl's eyes looked at you, though he didn't really manage to hide behind his usual stoic expression. "Ya cold or somethin'?"

You shook your head. "No, I'm okay. Don't worry."

He nodded, and for a moment, you thought the conversation might end there. But then he shifted around in the chair, as if uncomfortable with the silence. "Ya’ve been quiet," he said, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Usually ya've got somethin' to say."

You hesitated, unsure of how to respond. "Just… thinking, I guess."

"Thinkin' 'bout what?" He asked, still looking at you.

You shrugged, trying to seem casual. "Everything. How things have changed since all of this started."

Daryl grunted, his eyes returning to the window. "Yeah, things've changed alright. Ain't much left in the world."

You didn't reply; instead, you watched him, noticing the way his muscles moved under his shirt and the way his eyes darted around, constantly on alert. It was almost hypnotic—this man who lived on the edge of survival, so strong yet so guarded.

As the minutes ticked by, you couldn’t help but glance at Daryl’s stomach, where his shirt had risen slightly when he sat down. Your eyes were drawn to the trail of hair that led from his belly button downwards, something you couldn’t ignore, and the more you tried to focus on something else, the more your gaze kept drifting back to him.

Daryl shifted again, his eyes catching yours. "Got a problem or somethin'?"

You looked away quickly, feeling your heart race. "Nope."

He raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, well, ya can't just sit there starin' at me like that."

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…"

He sighed, leaning back in the chair and crossing his arms over his chest. "Alright. What is it ya wanna say?"

You fidgeted around, trying to find the right words. "I just… I guess I'm curious about you. About who you are when you’re not out fighting walkers or scavenging for supplies."

Daryl stared at you, his eyes darkening slightly. "And maybe I don't see the point in talkin' 'bout that."

You shifted on the floor, your movements restless. "Maybe we could make this night less pointless."

Daryl’s eyes narrowed. "What're ya talkin' 'bout?"

You hesitated, then took a deep breath. "I mean, we could talk about something else. Anything, really."

He studied you for a long moment, his expression guarded. Then, unexpectedly, he broke the silence. "Alright, fine. What do ya wanna know?"

You nodded. "What about before all this? What did you do?"

He seemed to ponder the question before answering. "Didn’t do much beyond huntin'."

You smiled faintly, lost in thought. "Sounds like a simpler life."

"Simple don't mean easy," he answered back quickly, looking away again.

Without even thinking, you closed the distance between the two of you, your heart racing in your chest and your hands shaking just a little bit as you held them out to him. Why? You didn't really know it yourself. You just did.

"What're ya playin' at?" He growled and narrowed his eyes.

You didn't respond. You went down to your knees in front of him, your eyes locked on his and your fingers brushing against the skin of his stomach. His muscles tensed under your touch, but he didn't push you away. Instead, he watched you with curiosity.

"You like this?" You asked, your whisper barely audible over the far-off moans of the walkers outside.

Daryl's jaw clenched, his eyes darkening. "What're ya tryin' to prove?"

You ignored his question, pressing your lips to his stomach in a matter of seconds. His skin was warm and slightly wet with salty sweat.

"Stop," he growled, but without conviction.

But you couldn't. You did not stop and continued to kiss and lick his stomach while your hands searched for every inch of his body. It was in the way his muscles twitched at your touch, the way his breath hitched—that really turned you on.

"You want this," you whispered, more a statement than a question.

Daryl's eyes blinked fast—part need, part hesitation. He was already at the edge, his breathing ragged, his eyes on you as if he willed himself to fight but failed.

"Yeah," he mumbled, his voice shaking. "Goddamn it… I want it."

That was all the motivation you needed. You reached out and placed your hand on Daryl's thigh, feeling him tense up slightly, but he still didn't pull away.

"I want to suck your cock," you whispered, your hand sliding up his thigh, closer to the bulge in his pants. As you reached for his belt, your fingers fumbling with the buckle, he helped you with shaking hands.

You smiled up at him, your fingers soon enough wrapped around the base of his cock, and slowly you leaned forward and pressed your lips to slide over the tip.

You teased him with soft, slow kisses, using just the very tip of your tongue to outline his head. His moans were very low and almost barely audible, but they fueled your lust all the same when you licked off the pre-cum.

"Fuck!" Daryl gasped, his hands gripping the sides of the chair. "Just get on with it."

Your mouth opened wide, and you took him in almost immediately, starting with just the head and letting it slide slowly past your lips. It was almost too much, that feeling of his cock in your mouth, and so you pulled back a bit, swirling your tongue around the head before trying to take him in further.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ," Daryl mumbled, his eyes closed, as he fought to hold on to some sort of control.

Your hand didn't stop stroking the part of his shaft that wasn't in your mouth, moving in rhythm with your lips and your tongue's movements.

Daryl's hips bucked involuntarily with short thrusts, and every time he pushed forward, you took him deeper, feeling your throat expand around him.

"Ya keep makin' me harder," he said, his voice breaking. 

"Good. I want you to be," you grinned around him, and without hesitation, you dove back down on him, taking him in as deep as you could.

"Fuck, keep goin'," he urged. "Ya gonna make me lose it."

You were more than happy to obey, and you quickened the pace of your movements, your mouth sliding up and down his cock. His hands were gripping your hair now, guiding you and pushing you to take him even deeper. His groans were getting louder, sounding more desperate, and you could tell he was close already.

"Jesus, I'm gonna cum," he moaned, his voice trembling. "Gonna blow my load."

You smirked around his cock, but you certainly didn't mean to let him come just yet. Drawing back a bit, you let your tongue slide along the underside of his cock before swirling around the sensitive skin just below its head.

Daryl groaned loudly, his body arching due to the ruined orgasm. "Fuck, don't stop," he pleaded, his hands gripping your hair tighter. "I'm so fuckin' close."

At those words, your lips parted slightly, teasingly, allowing a strand of spit to connect you to his cock before you leaned forward again, but not taking him fully into your mouth.

"Goddamn it," Daryl groaned, his hips bucking reflexively. "Don't play 'round."

But you continued teasing him, your tongue playing with the pre-cum, letting it gather in your mouth before you let it drip back onto his cock.

"Tease me like this," he gasped, "and I'm gonna go fuckin' crazy."

"You want more?" you asked. "You want me to make you come?"

Daryl nodded desperately, his eyes half-closed. "Yes, fuck yes."

Instead of giving him what he wanted, you pulled away once again and began to kiss and lick his cock from the base up, sliding your tongue around his shaft and softly nibbling on it as you moved slowly back up, paying careful attention to every inch of his throbbing cock.

"Shit," Daryl moaned, his hands gripping your hair harder. "Fuck, stop teasin' me."

His moans grew louder as you finally gave in to him, your tongue swirling around his cock like a snake, leaving nothing untouched. Daryl gripped your hair tighter, and his thrusts grew more insistent, pushing you further on his cock as you gagged on him, and you took him deeper still while you could feel his balls tightening and the base of his shaft tensing.

"I'm gonna come," he warns, but you don't stop. You want to taste him and feel him explode in your mouth. "Oh, fuck," he cried out again, his grip on your hair tightening as he cursed. "I'm gonna fuckin' come!"

You sucked hard and long, your tongue twisting around the ridge of his cock, teasing the sensitive spot beneath. With every suck, you could feel the pulsating veins in his shaft, and finally, Daryl came. His cock throbbed and pulsed in your mouth as he shot thick ropes of cum, filling your mouth with the salty, bitter taste of it.

You pulled off of him with a smirk, having swallowed the last of Daryl's cum, your lips glistening with the remaining drops before you wiped it off with the back of your hand.

"You okay?" You asked as you leaned in to press a soft kiss to his stomach.

Daryl looked at you, a half-smile on his face as he met your gaze. "Yeah, I'm good."

You leaned in closer, letting your fingers explore the warm, sweaty skin of his belly. "So," you said, your voice playful, "since we're still trapped here, do you want to know what got us into this mess?"

Daryl's eyebrow arched upward in confusion. "What do ya mean?"

You pressed your lips lightly against his belly. "I was just thinking about how all this started. It was your belly that got me going in the first place."

Daryl's eyes narrowed slightly. "Oh, so that's why ya were starin', huh?"

"Yeah, I guess so. Your belly's kind of a big deal to me, but I can't really explain," you grinned up at him.

He smirked back in amusement. "Fine, if ya don't wanna."

You laughed softly, shaking your head. "No need to explain. Only appreciating the view."

"Well, don't get too distracted. We've still got loads of shit to do," he answered, getting up from the chair to prepare to take a quick look outside the window to see how many walkers are still outside and roaming around.

Brushing the dust off your clothes when you got up as well, you turned to Daryl with a little bit of a spark in your eyes. "By the way, Daryl, I hope this check-up was thorough enough for you."

He looked back at you with a confused expression on his face. "This check-up? What are ya talkin' about?" He asked, taking a step back from the window.

You smirked as you got closer again, both your hands running over his belly one more time. "Well, considering how things went down, I think we both should consider this our routine maintenance from now on, don't you think?"

Daryl's eyes widened for a second before he suddenly let out a small laugh. "A routine maintenance, huh? Alright. But next time, maybe we'll save the check-ups for a safer time. Now, get ya ass up and follow me."

"Deal. But I gotta say, I'm looking forward to the next routine check-up already," you laughed, following him to the door and closing it slowly behind you.

[zae-heeyyy]

Stelliferous

Summary: You stargaze with Arthur. Pairing: Arthur Morgan x female!reader Word count: 1,353 Tags: fluff, shy, high honor Arthur Warnings: no warnings, enjoy the fluff.

a/n: Just a little something I thought of when I found this camp. Plus, I really wanted to draw a constellation. Fun fact, the game has accurate constellations, and Orion is one of them! I had a lot of fun reading about Orion mythology for this one. And TYSM to my tumblr bestie @littlemistey for helping me get the journal entry just right!

stelliferous: filled with stars or bearing stars, often used to describe a visibly starry night.

As everyone went about their business for the night, you headed to a deserted clearing just beyond camp and sat on the ground. You loved sitting alone, getting lost in the stars and the tales that went with them. Just as you were settling down, the snap of a twig alerted you to someone else's presence. The stars had aligned perfectly for you that night, putting you and Arthur in the same place at the same time.

You rose and looked around, spotting the cowboy leaning against a tree. If it were anybody else, you'd be annoyed, but seeing him there made your heart flutter in all the good ways. You loved looking at him just as much as you loved looking up at the stars. But the stars didn't make you weak in the knees at the sight of them or make you laugh until your stomach hurt. But just like the stars, Arthur always felt so out of reach.

"Things're really goin' downhill back there if a lady would rather sleep in the grass than in her tent," he said. His face was neutral, but you could see a playful glint in his eyes. You hugged your knees to your chest and tried to hide your shyness.

"Oh, hey Arthur, I was just––"

He held out a halting hand and tipped his head.

"I was just jokin, miss. I know what it's like to want some peace and quiet." He pushed himself off the tree and gave a two-finger wave. "Anyway, I won't disturb you."

You spoke out before he could leave. "It's no trouble, Arthur." You turned away from him and cranked your neck to the sky. "Y'ever wonder if it's just us out here?" It wasn't a question you expected him to answer. You were just thinking aloud. He didn't respond for a long moment but sauntered towards you, his boots appearing in your peripheral.

"I don't do much thinkin'."

You turned to glance at him again, shaking your head.

"Oh, hush, Arthur Morgan. We all know you do more thinkin' than any other fool around here."

You could tell he was fighting hard to keep the frown on his face from curving upward.

"That ain't saying much." He chuckled on his exhale, then, with a grunt, sat down beside you. "This whatchu' always doing out here? Just—" he gestured to the sky, "—looking up?"

"Don't knock it til you try it, Arthur." A soft smile formed on your face, and you waited expectantly. He quirked an eyebrow, then put his hands behind his head and laid back. A satisfied grin crossed your face, and you dropped down, too.

You spent the rest of the night pointing out stars and constellations to Arthur, sharing all the stories you knew about them. An hour crept by before a yawn escaped you. Arthur didn't show it, but your departure was the last thing he wanted. With one arm still behind his head and the other slung across his stomach, he kept his eyes trained on the sky above.

He was hooked—not on the stars, but on you. Then and there, he realized he could spend eternity on the ground, captivated by the rise of pitch in your voice when you got excited and how your eyes crinkled at the corners when your smile stretched from ear to ear.

From that night, Arthur used stargazing as his excuse to be near you, sometimes sitting so close to you that your shoulders rubbed when you pointed upward. Once, you turned to ask him a question and noticed him staring at you instead of the sky.

"It's impolite to stare, Mr. Morgan." His expression faltered, and he opened his mouth in a stuttering attempt to damage control.

He didn't need to be ashamed, though; you'd felt his eyes on you many times before. He admired you like you admired the stars, and knowing that sent waves of adoration through you.

Arthur caught up with you another evening just as you were finishing dinner. Golden sunlight reflected on his face as he glanced down at his feet, clutching his hat between his fingers. He reached nervously towards your hand, thought too hard, and placed it back on his hat. He started to speak, his words low and careful.

"Got somethin' to show you—somethin' I found— if you'll ride with me?"

You suppressed a building laugh, trying to save him further embarrassment. It tickled you that someone as audacious as him could be made so flustered by the likes of you. Your amusement was well hidden, and you reached for his hand, giving it a squeeze.

"It's about time you asked me on a ride, Mr. Morgan." He nodded and placed his hat back on his head, the brim shielding the building smile on his face. He walked you to his horse. He got on first and held a strong arm down to pull you up.

The two of you road down the Heartlands, across the Dakota River, and through Bard's Crossing. He slowed when you approached a hill outside Lone Mule Stead. Arthur helped you off the horse with one hand, keeping hold until you stood in front of a campsite that overlooked the Upper Montana River and beyond. The site was breathtaking; you could make out the lights of Blackwater, boats on the water, and the expansive night sky in all its glory. Just to the side of the spot stood a small brass telescope. When you finally saw it, your eyes widened, and you met Arthur's, your mouth agape.

"Found this out here the other day," he gestured towards it, beckoning you.

"Oh, Arthur," you ran your fingers across the smooth brass cylinder. You shook your head in slow incredulity. "I've never seen one in person, only seen 'em in books."

Arthur removed the cap on the end, letting it swing on its chain. He nodded toward the viewing device again, and you walked around to the lens, bending to look through it.

"I hope it's everything you read about, miss." His voice was comforting, like the soft rumble of distant thunder. Breathless, you pressed your eye to the lens, and a speckled blanket of black engulfed your vision. Truthfully, the stars were the same as always, but knowing Arthur had curated this moment, just for you, made the night sky more beautiful than ever. When you were done taking it in, you stood to see Arthur watching you from a few feet away. You approached the crate he was sitting on, your hands outstretched and reaching for his.

"Thank you, really," you said. The gunslinger stood and accepted your hands, his lips pressed together tightly as if opening his mouth would betray him. His eyes were strictly focused on your clasped hands. Surely, if his mouth would betray him, his eyes would too.

"Arthur." His name coming off your lips so endearingly could kill him. He finally looked up, his mouth falling open to speak, but you didn't give him the chance. You rose on your toes, your lips crashing against his hurriedly. When he finally realized what was happening, his shoulders fell relaxed, and he wrapped two arms around your waist, pulling you into him. Your mouths moved in sync with each other's until you pulled away for air. Heat had built up in his face, and you saved him the trouble of hiding his blush by wrapping your arms around him tight.

As breathtaking as it was, you forwent the telescope for the rest of the night, opting to wrap yourself in Arthur's arms instead. You pointed up at a line of bright stars.

"See those three? That's Orion's Belt."

"Orion?" he asked, saying the name as if it were a foreign language.

"Orion. He was a hunter—a big and strong one. They say he was a bit of a drunk brute, too. He reminds me of someone." You didn't need to peel your eyes away from the warrior in the sky to feel the warmth of the one right next to you, a knowing, gentle smile on his lips.

[sweetbunpura]

One of the Many Ways to Use an Eel's Love of his Shrimp Against Him

It was the finals, the finals against RSA for crying out loud, it was the last five minutes and NRC was down by one point. And here Floyd was, laying against all the chairs as he crossed his arms and closes his eyes. He had suddenly refused to play, quoting it as being too boring, The team and coach were begging him to step back in the game, all of their desperate pleas falling on deaf ears. Ace whined about the whole thing and Jamil had to agree with him, they had worked hard this season, only to have it uprooted by one very temperamental eel.

The Scarabia vice dorm leader sighed with a shake of his head as he looked out into the stands behind him. His gray eyes flicked around quickly before landing on the exact person he knew could change everything around. He waved her down and nodded his head as she pointed to herself. Everyone in the stands watched as she got up and walked down the steps. Jamil looked at her, a sly smile gracing his lips as he noticed what she was wearing.

"Floyd." Jamil turned back to face the merman.

"I said no already, Sea Snake, don't make me squeeze ya." His eyes were closed and his hands were behind his head. "This ain't fun enough for me to keep playin'."

"Oh, you're quitting? So I wore this for nothing?"

Floyd's eyes snapped opened and looked at the newcomer as everyone on the team turned to face them. Yuu was standing next to Jamil, with her hands on her hips and wearing... Floyd's letterman jacket over her shoulders along with what looked to be a modified cheerleading outfit with his number and name on it. He shot up, straight as a pole as his eyes focused hard on his girlfriend.

"Y-you wore that for me?"

"I mean, I did, but if you're not gonna play then this is going to waste." Yuu fake pouted. "Here I was, hoping to cheer on my boyfriend."

Jamil shook his head, playing along with her. "Sorry, Yuu, and you had something planned for him afterwards if we won."

Yuu let out a heavy sigh. "And that's up in flames too, I made homemade takoyaki and everything... We were gonna spend the rest of the night and the whole day tomorrow together too."

Floyd immediately got to his feet and looked at the Coach. "I'm goin' back in, we're winnin' this." He turned to Yuu. "Eyes on me only, okay Shrimpy?"

"Of course." She smiled.

He gave her a quick kiss and rushed to return to the court, his teammates quickly followed him. Jamil held out his fist, which Yuu pounded as she returned to the stands. NRC finally won against RSA that night, nothing could've stopped the rampage Floyd was going on. Ace and Jamil watch from their seats at one of the nearby fast food restaurants as Floyd wrangles Yuu into his lap and demands a smooch for winning.

"Jeez, what the power of a girlfriend will do." Ace drank a bit of his soda.

"Mmm-hmm." Jamil ate one of his fries. "But that makes it easier to lure him into doing what needs to be done."

"That's gonna backfire on us one day."

"No, it wont. On Azul, yes, but not us."

[bigbadvoxbox]

ALR LEMME TWEAK MY VOX X SUB!READER SMUT RQ-

my lame ass excuse for a plot: Being bratty and annoying vox during working hours, like constantly pestering him for 0 reason and eventually he gets fed up with your shenanigans and snaps (insert whatever happens nex here)

SOUNDS HOT i'm up for it

gonna put it into bullet points to help me get it all goin cus longer stuff ain't my strong suit and i'm already workin on two longer fics

warnings: smut. spanking. reader is a goddamn brat. edging. punishment. unprotected sex (don't do this).

- "Voooox. I'm bored. Can we hang out?"

"No, I told you. I'm busy. So why don't you go keep yourself entertained while I work." Vox insisted, beginning to grow frustrated with your antics. You, however, were having none of it.

- Taking his phone out of his hand and tossing it aside, trying to get his attention, only for him to take a deep breath through clenched teeth as he veeery gently redirected you to go somewhere else, picking his phone back up. He was starting to lose his cool now.

- Sitting nearby, continuing to whine and complain about how bored you are, noticing his eye begin to twitch, before half his face is beginning to actually glitch with pure frustration.

- Eventually, he loses it, and gets up from his chair to grab you by the collar, pulling you to his desk and bending you over it.

"If you can't help but be so fucking bothersome, then I guess I'll just have to deal with you."

- His voice takes on the static effect when he's getting really riled up. And it's the sexiest fucking thing ever.

- It starts off with spanking, his sharp hands catching on your skin, making the flesh bloom a rosy shade of red. He soothingly rubs your ass after each spank, even though you both know his pity and care are fake. He's mocking you.

"Awh, poor girl. Did that hurt? Good."

- Before long, his fingers are inside you. He isn't too careful, since this is your punishment for bothering him while he works, for being such a goddamn little brat. but he isn't heartless. he knows you can't take him without some preparation.

- His fingers pick up the pace until you're just almost there, right on that edge of bliss, and then he stops.

- He lets you come down from the close edge, before replacing his fingers with his cock (and what a cock it is).

- He's got you bent over his desk, holding your head down against it as he fucks you so hard the desk's legs scrape across the floor a little.

- "Is this entertaining enough for you? Good enough for a little fucking whore like you?"

- It isn't until your hole feels raw and your body feels like it's on fire that he begins to settle down, letting you cum, and pulling out. He watches with a satisfied smirk at the mixture of yours and his cum that drips down your thigh.

- "Can I finish my work now? Yeah? Good girl."

Sorry I know it's a little short but I hope you like it!

[bloodlineee1]

i’d love to see a jey uso x reader from you! something silly followed by some smut maybe. just light hearted relationship stuff.

Pairing: Jey Uso x Reader.

Warnings: smut Minors DNI 18+

i loved this idea so muchhh i hope you guys enjoyyyyy!!!!

I get out of the shower and realize I forgot to grab a towel. were at Jey's twin brother's house visiting and at home, we usually have towels in our bedrooms so it totally crossed my mind.

"babe" y/n yells.

"yeah?" Josh yells back from downstairs.

"Can you bring me a towel please"

"Can you bring me a towel please" Jimmy mocks.

"I heard that Jonathon" y/n laughs yelling at him.

"Man shut yo ass up before you get me in trouble" Jey laughs.

"yeah, one second" he gets up from the couch and throws a pillow at Jimmy.

after a few minutes, he finally walked in with a towel in his hand.

"here" he puts his arm out to pass me the towel.

"took you long enough" I walk towards him and try to snatch the towel.

"say goodbye to this towel 'cause you ain't getting it now" he snatches the towel back.

"babe, give me the towel." I bend around his back to grab it.

"say please" he smacks my ass and moves the towel again.

"Joshua come on it's cold" I smack his arm.

"say please" he taunts.

"Please, now give me my towel" I suck my teeth and put my hand out.

"say it nicer" he pushes more.

"Josh stop playing bro," I say purposely because I know he doesn't play that "bro" shit.

"oh, I'm bro now?"

"yeah, uce" I laugh.

"oh really? keep it up" he laughs too.

"Can you just give me my towel Jey" I say his stage name which he also hates.

"Now you definitely not getting this towel" he chuckles.

"I'm not walking around your brother's house naked," I say annoyed at this point because its cold asf.

"what you gonna do for this towel?" he smirks.

"anything you want," I say obliviously.

"oh really? bend over then" he jokes he pulls me by my waist.

"Yeah, you crazy" I grab the towel and try to walk away.

"am I?" he pulls me in with the towel that he never let go.

"yes, you are" My breath hitches from how close he is we've been married for 3 years and he still makes me nervous.

"yeah?" he starts rubbing my clit.

"Yeah," I moan.

"you've been walking around with this stank-ass attitude all damn day I know this is what you've been wanting" he whispers in my ear.

"I don't have an attitude" I roll my eyes.

"yes you have ever since you and Trin went out with the girls last night" he puts a finger in.

"Well, when you come home horny from the club and your man is giving lectures about drinking "too much" instead of taking his dick out and fucking you till you cry you'd have an attitude too," I say annoyed and so horny.

"mhm ill give what you want like I said bend that ass over" he smacks my ass.

15 minutes later.

"Ugh! fuck babe!" y/n moaned loudly, trying not to break her arch in her back. She gripped the sheets, with her eyes rolling to the back of her head as Jey held her by the waist and drilled her.

"Baby wait" She whimpered, moving up some.

"Whea' you goin'? Huh?" he grabbed her by the hair and whispered into her ear.

"Mm, It's too much" She whined, reaching back to push at his stomach.

"This what you wanted, remember? Take this shit like a big girl" He let her hair go and fucked her deeper than before.

He slowed his pace down.

"Fuck me back" He demanded slapping her ass.

She let a short moan slip out and he stopped moving, waiting for her to do what he said.

She gripped the sheet again, moving her hips in a circular motion. He bit his bottom lip, mesmerized by how her ass moved so perfectly.

"Mmm," She muffled, holding in a moan before she started throwing her ass back on him.

"Fuck y/n." He groaned, watching her ass effortlessly jiggle.

He felt his peak near, gripped her hips, and put his leg up.

Her mouth fell open and her eyes rolled to the back of her head.

"Take dis shit" Jey gritted, gripping her hips tightly as he pounded into her.

"Tell me you love me, baby," He said, knowing the state she was currently in, she couldn't say anything.

Moans were stuck in her throat, she couldn't form a sentence at the moment at how much pleasure she was feeling.

"I can't hear you" He taunted, slowing down.

She gasped "Shit! I love you!" She moaned "I love you so much"

"I love you too baby," He said softly

"You gonna cum for me?"

"I-I-I can't" She whined.

"Yes, you can baby, come on give it to me" He coached.

He could feel her body trembling below him, feeling his peak coming too but wanted to make sure she got hers first.

He put his leg down and pushed more into her back letting her body collapse. Not stopping his deep strokes as she now lay on her stomach and he laid on top of her.

"You like makin' me feel good right?" He whispered in her ear. She immediately nodded, feeling him in her stomach the deeper he grind into her.

"Then let it go, mama. Let me feel it" He softly kissed the side of her face and she kept clapping her walls around him as the tears that were building up in her eyes started to spring free.

"Make me feel good and cum fa' me" He whispered with a shaky voice.

"Oh fuck" She dragged out as the orgasm ripped threw her body

"Just like that baby. Good girl" He cooed, kissing the side of her face, stroking her through it.

His eyes started drifting close releasing himself inside her.

"damn," they both said in unison.

They turn our heads towards the door after hearing a knock.

"aye get yall nasty asses up and get dressed we going out to eat" Jimmy yells from the other side of the door.

"aii" Josh yells back still lying on top of me.

"and clean my sheets" he adds.

"see" I smack Josh on his chest.

"Jon leave them alone lord knows what we be doing in their house" Trin laughs.