#ignore the don image

[ver0nica985]

CHRIS ART DUMP YAY 🔥🔥🔥

[utterlyazriel]

the green emotion

someone requested jealous!azriel and i... made up a whole plot. i hope it's decent and fulfills the craving ! i'm a firm believer than he's so silly when he gets jealous <3 friends to lovers, about 4k

Azriel was not a jealous Male.

That was what he told himself. Jealousy was something that possessed the likes of Cassian or Rhys, driven to territorial acts that likened them to wild beasts. Fueled by their protectiveness, their senses dulled beyond reason.

Jealousy was a sharp whip with a taunting bite and Azriel was one of few who did not bend beneath it.

He had adopted a strength over millennia, an iron will, that prevented him from harboring such unsavory feelings. He was a stronger male than that, not so easily willed by strong ugly emotions such as jealousy.

That was what he told himself — as he tailed behind you, hanging back far enough you could not detect his presence, his shadows shrouding him.

It was reaching evening in Velaris, the last remnants of the sun's dappled light scattered across the cobblestones. You were clothed in a velvet cloak that reached down to your ankles. Its hood was drawn up, to cover your face.

If Azriel didn’t know you so well, not the weight of your steps and the lithe you carried yourself with, you may have slipped by unnoticed.

But Azriel was the Spymaster for a reason — and you were keeping secrets.

Truly, it itched and picked at him as he turned reason over and over again in his mind as he followed you. What possible reason could you have for skirting around in the dark? To slip from your friends and cloak yourself, wishing to remain unseen on the streets of your home?

It didn’t make sense to him. No thoughts of treason ever breached his mind. You wouldn’t dare, he knew that. You treasured your family as deeply as Azriel did himself, having bled and fought for your space beside them many years ago.

But as Azriel traced the path you walked, knowing you were fully in your right to go about your business however you pleased, it couldn’t be ignored. Logic kept pointing fingers in the same direction.

If he did not suspect you of withholding vital information from your court, then his quiet tailing must be fueled by something else. Something as trivial as an emotion such as…. jealousy.

Azriel bristled at the thought and his wings shook silently behind him, as if shaking off some imaginary snow.

He did not get jealous.

He was simply… ensuring the safety of his court. Which included your own safety. Even the thought made him grimace in the shadows, knowing the smack he would receive from Cassian if his brother ever heard the implication you couldn’t fend for yourself.

You most certainly could. Azriel and Cassian had both spent their fair share of hours battling against you in the fighting ring, training you up.

And it’s hardly likely that the image of you — donned in your fighting leathers, forehead beaded with sweat, chest heaving as you gripped your sword tight and grinned across the ring — was something Azriel would forget anytime soon.

Cauldron boil him if he ever had to admit aloud just how often he thought of that image.

Still, something within him kept his feet moving, footsteps as quiet as the night.

Faelight illuminated across the cobbles, the light of the rising moon, brighter in this court than any other, cast across the doorsteps of the townhouses. You had wound through the streets and ended up two streets stray from the Palace of Threads and Jewels. On a doorstep that Azriel had never seen before.

Your hood fell to your shoulders as you pushed it back gently, revealing the column of your throat and the curve of your shoulders. The faint moonlight glided across your skin, a luminous glow curling up against your collarbones. Azriel swallowed from his place in the shadows.

It was never a surprise to find you beautiful. To revere your enchanting otherworldly beauty — that Azriel was used to. And yet still, even after all these years, he had not managed to master the way it stole the breath from his lungs every time.

A familiar hunger yawned within him. He averted his eyes from you to the door.

He forced himself to take in the details, listening as his shadows whispered things his eyes could not attest. An artist's home. Damaged and rebuilt in the last battle of Velaris. The inhabitant was a Male, living alone.

Something blistered awfully inside Azriel.

Why would you visit a home such as this? Azriel could think of a few reasons that could warrant a visit so late in the evening, with your face concealed and your footsteps light. He felt his stomach turn over. Something foul burned in his gut.

The door before you opened and Azriel turned his face fast, slicing his gaze to the ground before he could see the Fae who greeted you.

Suddenly, this felt too close to an invasion of privacy. If you wished to keep your lovers a secret, as he himself did, this was a direct violation of your wishes.

That was... if this man was, indeed, your lover.

Something vulgar, something ugly reared up in his veins. Azriel clenched his fists at his sides, siphons gleaming, and willed it down.

Jealousy would not become him. Jealousy was not— did not control him.

And yet he could feel it, coursing through his blood, choking up his throat. Azriel tried to push it down, to fight against it with reason, with logic. You were promised to no Male, least of all to him. But...

But he could've sworn.

As quickly as the words appeared in his mind, Azriel stamped them down with an icy fury.

A silent curse followed them, directed at himself for his own foolishness. How many times would he walk this road before he eventually learned?

There had been no heated moments between you, no wandering eyes, no lingering hands; none that he had not imagined. None that his mind had no conjured up in its own twisted hope.

When you sought him out in the night, tormented by your own mind and how it kept you from sleep, you were seeking... a friend, Azriel realised bitterly.

There was nothing deeper to your decision to show up at his door but no one else's. Nothing was hidden in the way you chose a seat next to him at every dinner, nor the way you found a way to be beside him at the tables at Rita's.

Sitting close enough so that he could smell the alluring scent of your perfume. Could see the gleam of your bright eyes as you glanced at him after every joke, almost as if to see what might make him smile.

No. He steeled himself, shutting down every sweet moment of you he had been subconsciously collecting, holding to a greater magnitude than you clearly did.

You were not like Mor or Cassian. You did not warm the sheets of many Fae beds, slipping in and out of them without a care.

You were... alike to himself, Azriel had thought. Dedicated yourself to one.

He scowled at himself in the dark. This— this rendezvous in the dark did not dispel what he knew about you. It did not make it untrue.

It simply meant his feeble hope, that the one, the Fae you might dedicate yourself entirely was him... was just that—a hope.

It did not sway the reality of the world, the matter of truth that you crept out in the night to meet on shadowed doorsteps. Azriel felt his shadows smoking around him, spun into a frenzy at his unwelcome revelation. He snapped in his wings a little tighter.

Coming here tonight, following you, had been a mistake.

—

It seemed perfectly logical after that night for Azriel to take a step back, to rein himself in.

Not that there was not much to rein back — but the small actions reserved just for you, the unrestrained smiles, the inside jokes ribbed back at one another.

The things he had perceived as meaning more. He knew, that if he wanted to protect his heart from further ache, he should stop doing them.

But... maybe the only thing he did better than fighting, he thought grievously, was being utterly lovesick for someone who would never feel the same.

At the very least, he would hold his feelings to secrecy. It began with the smallest retractions, like weaning an addict off their favourite drug.

Azriel knew if he pulled away too quick, it would send him into a sort of withdrawal — and after all these years spent together, he wasn't sure he knew how to live with a deficit of you. Of your brazen smile and sparkling eyes.

Slow and sure. Over the next week, he willed himself to quit bothering you, to empty a space in your life so you could invite in others, those that meant more to you. So, there could be space for your new... lover.

Even the word sounded bitter in his mind.

Azriel opted for longer training in the morning. Let his sparring sessions with Cassian bleed longer and longer, not leaving the blazing hot rooftop even when Cass winds up limping inside.

He had received a halfhearted scowl from the warrior, undoubtedly for how unrelenting he had been in his fighting this week.

The time he usually sets aside for you, to read side by side in the library, to bake, to enjoy each other's company — Azriel swept it aside for you, to free up your schedule.

Noticed how you spend your free time down in Velaris. He doesn't dare tail you again.

The week crawls by slowly, stretching out thick, black tar.

Come Sunday, a day you normally reserved for spending with him, Azriel knows his extra insistence on training isn't enough of an excuse to keep you away. He trains late anyway.

True to his suspicions, it takes less than an hour for you to appear— having come to find him.

Azriel can sense you, even before his shadows murmur sweet things in his ears about the most beautiful Fae watching him through the window.

You're lingering at the door, unusually reserved. He can feel your hesitancy, even as he works his aching muscles through yet another set of exercises. His shadows stay in close, the edge of his body whispering in and out of darkness, his siphons gleaming.

You wait, watching quietly, until the sword he's wielding, a strong, broad Illyrian blade, is placed down to rest. Then, there's the soft pad of your feet as you step out into the training area. He hears you coming but he does not turn to face you.

“I've missed you this week.”

Even with his back turned, Azriel fights to keep his expression neutral, even as his eyes flutter at your admission. There's a tug on his shadows, their desire to wisp across to you proving a challenge to resist. He holds himself still, stern, and doesn't even a ruffle of his wings to indicate he's heard you.

"I—" Azriel begins. He still can't bear to turn to face you. "I'm sorry to hear that."

He can hear the noise of confusion that slips from your throat — evidently, it isn't the response you're expecting.

Azriel focuses on the sword before him, his bicep bulging as he lifts its weight and wanders to the stand of weapons. He pretends to be immersed in the decision of which to train with next, even though he's been out here for hours.

Even with his silent cold shoulder, he can still hear you behind him, your feet dragging softly across the ground in what is surely a hesitant nervous action. But still, you haven't left.

"Well, maybeee…" You continue on, voice still aiming for light and breezy, as if he hasn't been avoiding you. You're still trying.

Azriel's chest tightens up with a familiar ache, one that always lingers around you. Since seeing you that night, on another Male's doorstep, its sting has become particularly cruel. Jealousy has a cold bite.

"If you’re nearly done... I mean, if your somewhat obsessive workout regime is finally complete..."

You're winding on, taking jabs that would normally make him smile. You'd take a gentle rolling of his eyes at this point. Azriel turns to you, his face remaining passive.

"I was wondering if you wanted to come sit with me in the library," You say, voice suddenly softer now that he's facing you. "If you’re not too busy, that is.”

Azriel steels himself, eyes cutting to the ground as he forces himself to not wilt beneath your hopeful gaze. He knew it would be hard to pull himself away from you but this? This is nearing torture.

He clears his throat. “I am.”

He turns and begins to peel off the layers of Illyrian leathers from his torso, remaining diligent at keeping himself from caving to you. He can feel the ugly emotion rolling just beneath the surface, a gruesome green monster that threatens his usual composure.

Behind him, he hears your soft, saddened oh. His wings give a tiny shiver at it, even as he continues the methodical process of unwinding after training.

Piece by piece, his armor comes off, until even his shirt has been shed. His skin glistens under the shine of the afternoon sun, the muscles beneath rippling and sore from exertion.

There's a moment of silence and Azriel keeps his head bowed as he gathers himself, prepared to bathe the sweat and grime off himself. It wasn't a complete lie he had told.

Perhaps, he thinks wistfully, he could wash some of his unjust jealousy away with it. Being so unwound by his feelings is taking its toll on him, considering how unused to it he is. He waits, ears keenly listening for the sign of your departure.

After a minute of quietness, he can only assume you've slipped away silently. He sighs, half in relief and half in his sorrow.

"What are you busy doing?"

Your voice pipes up and Azriel glances behind him, surprised that you haven't left after all. His wings tuck in a little tighter.

"y/n." He murmurs your name and it comes out almost as a plea. Now, faced with you pulling apart his loose lie, Azriel finds he doesn't have it within him to lie to your face. "Please."

You don't say anything.

Azriel's shadows dance around him, agitated and frenzied, and he wills them to calm— though, that had always been an impossible request in your presence. He takes a sharp inhale and walks towards the door, leaving you behind on the rooftop.

He gets halfway down the hallway, heading for his room before your voice calls out again.

"Busy avoiding me?"

You've followed him from the training ring and now you stand at the end of the hallway, your arms crossed firmly across your chest. Your face is contorted into a hard expression, a furrow between your brows.

Azriel sighs and turns back to you. He hadn't been able to keep his secret from Mor — why, oh why did he think that he would have any more luck when it came to you?

You— enigmatic, wonderful you. Maybe, all Azriel hopes to do today is to delay the inevitable rejection for a different day. An easier day.

A day where he isn't feeling so easily undone by his the enormity of his envy. Envious of what he can't have but so desperately desires.

As he turns to face you, it's impossible to miss the way your eyes dart down to his bare chest. You stare for a moment too long and it looks like it takes an effort to drag your eyes up. You swallow heavily, the bob of your throat unmissable. Even from afar, Azriel swears there's a glow to your cheeks.

No. No, he wasn't doing that to himself anymore! He wouldn't— he couldn't be having those thoughts about you anymore. You had a lover for Mother's sake.

"I'm not—"

"Oh my Gods, don't even try to say you're not avoiding me." You interrupt him sharply. You begin to stamp your way down the hallway, eyes narrowed, your annoyance clear to see.

A door in the hallway opens. Distracted by something over his shoulder, Cassian takes a blundering loud step out into the hallway before he freezes.

He spots you first, eyes widening and wings bunching up at your obvious fury. His head turns, finding Azriel down the other end of the hallway.

"Oh... Mother, this is happening now, huh? I'm just gonna— uh, get food later." He jerks his thumb over his shoulder, quickly turning and disappearing back into his room. His door closes with a quiet snip.

In the moment of distraction, you don't notice how Azriel has moved away stealthily— his shadows aiding his quiet getaway. He's not entirely sure what his plan is; he doubts he can avoid this argument by simply shutting himself in his room. Turns out, he's selfish enough to be willing to try.

Sure enough, it takes another moment before his wings twitch, his shadows reporting on your incoming footsteps moments before he hears them himself.

He busies himself with digging through his drawers and sends a silent request to the House, praying it might keep the door locked against you.

He can do this— he can swallow down his burning heart and keep your friendship he values so dearly, he swears he can. Just not today.

He hears the door open.

Glancing up, he narrows his eyes at the House and calls it a foul word in his mind. The Faelights of his room seem to twinkle mischievously in response.

"Az," You breathe softly.

His name sounds unbearably tender coming from your lips. His wings give a little rustle, curling closer around himself.

Despite his lack of reply, you aren't deterred. He can hear your footsteps, gentle and not at all like your prior furious stomps down the hallway, as they wind around his bed.

Chest stirring with an old ache, he keeps himself facing away. He slips a shirt on and prays you give him one more day to rein in his treacherous heart. One more day. He just can't do it today.

"Did I... Did I do something?"

Your voice is suddenly a lot smaller.

Azriel softens instantly at the sound of it, feeling his resolve begin to crumble. He crushes his eyes closed and thinks of what he had seen down in Velaris — forces himself to imagine you with another Male, in his arms, in his bed.

But even if his jealousy is so terribly unwarranted, he cannot bring himself to lie to you.

"No," The word grates out his throat roughly.

Because it's the truth. You hadn't done anything wrong and— and Azriel refused to hurt you just because he couldn't contain a few rampant feelings.

"Really?" The tinge of annoyance is back in your words and Azriel can't even blame you.

"Because then why it is that you have been avoiding me since— since the day I was-"

You cut your own words off and Azriel fills in the blank on his own. Since the day down in the city—where I saw you entering another Male's home, hidden in your cloak, like you were meeting a lover— and even though you're completely allowed to do that, I am like every other gods forsaken jealous Male in Prythian, getting upset over this, even if you are not truly mine.

He turns to you finally, his hands clenched at his side and he wills the next sentence out.

"What or who you choose to spend your free time with—" He inhales a long breath, forcing his face to remain neutral even as he feels his teeth grit together. "—is none of my concern."

Your face scrunches up, confused. Then the furrow between your eyebrows is back and Azriel feels a tad nervous. You aren't often angry, least of all with him.

"Cauldron boil me," You bury your face into your hands for a second. Then you drag them down languidly with a groan, peeking up at him over your hands.

"Did you follow me?"

Azriel feels a bit off-guard. His voice isn't as sure when he says, "It is my duty to survey my court."

You bristle a little at that and the nervousness within him grows a little bigger.

"'Who I choose to spend my time with?'" You repeat his words back to him with a tone of incredulity, your hands motioning wildly before you. Faintly, Azriel begins to sense the feeling of foolishness rising within him.

"For Mother's sake, Az, I was buying you a birthday gift, not sleeping with him!"

The moment the words burst from your lips, two things happen. Azriel stiffens, the true nature of your stealthy endeavor through Velaris making a fool of him indeed.

You were... cloaked and hidden because you had been planning a surprise. For him. For his birthday. Something he hadn't even considered was around the corner as it held no high merit with him. His eyes widen and his lips part an inch.

And you — you straighten up, eyes wide, looking as though you've been struck by lightning.

"You were jealous." You gasp.

Not a question, a statement.

"No," Azriel denies, without thinking. His heart rabbits in his chest. The irony of acting out the way he did, because jealousy had blinded him in the first place, is not lost on him.

Suddenly, all his envy is washed away, replaced quickly by a bumbling foolish embarrassment. He wishes he could winnow out of the House. He considers the window behind him for a moment, if only to spare himself from revealing his true feelings to you.

One glance back at your face, your expression edging towards crestfallen, and any thoughts of running away vanishes.

"Yes." He quickly amends, voice meek.

His wings give a little shudder, twisting in closer as he realises what he's admitted aloud. How there was no coming back from this.

No one had ever made him as loose-tongued as you do. Azriel is embarrassed to be caught stumbling over his words.

"I realise..." He croaks out, suddenly finding the slats of the floorboards immensely more interesting. His shadows have slowed from their nervous frenzy, making lazy motions instead, as if to soothe him. "That may not be ideal. My feelings, that is."

A beat of silence. Azriel studies a spot on the floor intently. His heart flounders wildly behind his ribs. His embarrassment seeps something closer to mortification.

Your shoes peek into the edge of his vision and Azriel's head shifts up slowly, his hazel eyes finding yours and burning into them.

His shadows whisper a thousand things to him — but all of them are dulled, quietened, as he simply stares at you. Feels something between the pair of you hang in the balance, just a breeze from unraveling.

Your eyes are bright. Acutely, he realises he can smell relief rolling off you in heavy waves. Amongst it, too, is a hint of... happiness. Happiness.

“Oh, you big Illyrian baby,” You coo, a teasing lilt to your tone.

His cheeks grow warm. Something white-hot tips down his spine as you step in closer, swaying into his space. He can smell the alluring scent of you and his heart thrums in his chest at your nearness, aching to be closer.

"Some spymaster you are, huh?" You say, voice barely above a whisper.

Azriel stays silent but his head tilts to the side just an inch in his puzzlement, his eyebrows knitting together. Hazel eyes peer at you with such an intensity that it sends goosebumps crawling across your skin— his eyes searching your face for answers to his thousand questions.

"Knowing everything except for this." You continue, words feather-soft.

You don’t say what this is but Azriel thinks he knows. Hopes he knows. His hands at his sides clench tighter, his fingers curled up into fists, and the motion catches your attention.

Moving so slowly, you reach out and gingerly take his wrist between your delicate fingers. Azriel lets you. A whine crawls up in the back of his throat and his swallows it back down.

He watches closely as you pull his hand up, forward, cradling it with your own two. His fingers twitch, so unfamiliar with such tender touches.

The shadows scouring around his shoulders burst into a frenzy, circling down his arms and twirling around your intertwined hands. It's as though they're... dancing, Azriel thinks.

"I... hoped." He admits quietly, his voice full of longing.

You shift his mottled hand, turning it gently so his palm is facing yours. Then you hold your own up against it, like you're comparing hand sizes.

Azriel can barely tear his eyes off where your hand presses into his to look up at you. Something molten hot begins to scorch through his veins. A realisation. A dream that may be finally answered. It feels like pure starlight.

Your hand is dwarfed against his own scarred one — and when Azriel curls his fingers, they hug the top of yours gently. You press back against his hand, like the smallest hug back.

You murmur back. "You don't need hope."

Your gaze skirts up from your joined hands, your lips twitching into a nervous smile.

Your eyebrows have drawn together in the middle, just a bit, as though what's happening is something you find devastatingly beautiful. As though you think that way about him. About the two of you, together.

Azriel finds himself thinking of all he would give in the world —all the mountains he'd move and dragons he'd slay— for you to keep looking at him that way.

"You already have me."

[lisired]

can you keep it down?

pairing: neighbor!mark x (f) reader

genre/warnings: smut, dilf!mark, oral (m receiving), throat fucking, choking, thigh slapping, forced submission, implications of brat taming (in progress), praise, degradation but it’s more like banter, unprotected sex (dont b silly wrap ur willy)

summary: The apartment next door to yours has been vacant for months. No one had gone in or out, not until your new next door neighbor moved in two weeks ago. Mark, a slightly older guy who prides himself on his patience and willpower with a penchant for control. But when you make it clear you’re resolved to wither away the things he values most, Mark decides he’s down for the challenge, determined to put a leash on your unrestrained behavior - and most importantly, finally shut you the hell up.

word count: 10.4k

a/n: 4/4 of the Temptation series. feedback is appreciated!

The first time you met Mark, it was right outside your door. 

It was late at night - debatably early in the morning - and you had been in the middle of bringing yourself to the third consecutive orgasm in a row when loud knocking interrupted you. Part of you was tempted to ignore whoever was determined to beat down your door, but it was ceaseless and frankly, you were growing annoyed. 

Swiftly you slipped on the closest pair of shorts and marched to the front door in large strides, swinging it open once you finally arrived. Then, your eyes met Mark’s. 

He was a mere stranger to you then. But what you saw made you want to know him. What you saw made you nearly forget that you were on the brink of orgasm only moments ago. A pair of beautiful brown eyes stared back at you. 

“Hey,” he greeted, voice gruff. “Sorry to bother you, but can you keep it down? I live right next door and with all the noise I can’t sleep.”

For a moment you only blinked, processing his words slowly. You weren’t aware that you were being that loud. But then again, you were in no state to properly register your actions - you were delirious with pleasure and had blocked everything else past your senses. 

When you finally processed his statement, your cheeks burned, slightly embarrassed. “Fuck. I’m so, so sorry, I had no idea. I’ll try to be quieter from now on.”

He gave you a courteous nod and replied, “No worries. Have a good night.”

“You, too.”

And that was it. When you shimmied back out of your shorts, you didn’t even feel energetic anymore, only overcome by exhaustion and the burdensome fact that you had work in the morning. You groaned and flopped against your bedsheets, letting sleep swallow you whole. 

But the image of your new neighbor was reoccurring. There was something familiar about him, like you had seen him once before. And there were things you noticed right off the bat about him. For one, he was an older guy. Not old, but evidently beyond your years. And if the shorts he wore was any indicator, he was likely a father. 

That made the chain of thoughts about him increase, and you didn’t even know his first name. There was instant intrigue and desire to get to know your new, next-door neighbor. 

Though visions died quick, and dreams were killed even quicker. When you saw Mark swallowing some girl’s face only moments before she left his apartment on your way to work some days later, you rationalized yourself and decided to take it steady. It was certain that you were sure of what you wanted, but you respected his relationship. You were a great deal of things - delusional and a homewrecker weren’t on the list. 

The second time, it was when you least expected it - at a local cafe. 

Mark sat across from you, coffee cup in hand. Awareness of someone’s sudden presence made you shudder, and it slightly soothed you when you realized it was your hot neighbor. Your heart was still beating fast. 

You played it cool. “Are you stalking me, neighbor?” 

Amused, your neighbor let out a chuckle that was like music to your ears. “My name is Mark,” he introduced himself, smiling blithely. “And don’t flatter yourself, neighbor. I saw you here coincidentally and sat here because I had one good question for you.” 

With an eyebrow arched, you casted Mark an identical smile. It amused you that he spoke to you as if you had been long friends, though you didn’t mind. You had been intrigued by Mark the moment you first laid eyes on him, and had been incapable of taking them off him since. 

“Mark,” you said, tasting his name on your tongue. You played along and bobbed your head after a few moments, deciding you liked his name and gave him yours. “What do you have to ask me, Mark?” 

Mark leaned over the table, voice an octave above a whisper as he asked, “Who’s fucking you so good that you can’t be quiet?”

He leaned back out and eyed you smugly when you blinked in surprise. His bluntness had caught you off-guard and he was proud of it, but you refused to not quickly recover.

Feigning indifference, you replied, “No one. Most of the time it’s just me and my toys. I have a hectic work schedule so it’s rare for me to find time to mess with people.” 

Much to your misfortune, it was true. Working a busy office job meant that you had little time for even short-lived flings or one-night stands, much less the commitment of a serious relationship. It was difficult to recall the last time that you had gotten laid. With work taking such a humongous toll on you, your only way of relieving all of your pent-up frustrations was with sex toys. 

That response was a clear shock to Mark, and in return you took pride in it. He was expecting you to be taken, but now that you had essentially implied that you weren’t dating anyone, he felt free to make a move on you. It was an indirect way of asking you if you were single. He also didn’t expect the same girl that flushed red when he confronted you about your noisiness to meet his boldness, but it was a welcome surprise. Mark could tell only fun things would come out of knowing you and becoming your neighbor. 

Mark took a long sip from his cup, then asked, “What do you do for a living?”

“I work a variable job as an executive assistant that spends an ungodly amount of time behind a computer screen doing everyone else’s job for them,” you smiled tiredly. 

He threw you a playful grimace and glanced at his watch for a split-second, but you had his undivided attention again in no time. “Damn, no wonder. You must like things rough.”

That took you by surprise, but you didn’t dare show it. “You have no idea,” you grumbled, playing it safe. “What about you?”

Mark grinned with pride. “I’m an editor for a publishing company.”

“Must be fun.”

“I can’t complain. It’s a stress sometimes, but it pays the bills.”

You chuckled. “Amen to that.” 

It felt forbidden to be interested in your potentially taken neighbor that you only met a couple of days ago, yet here you were talking to him about your sex and work life. To make matters worse - and if that comment about you liking things rough was any indicator - you might have somehow also piqued his interests. 

Maybe you were just reading too much into his words. After all, you were his noisy neighbor that kept him up at night. He was probably just curious as to why you seemingly made enemies with silence. 

Mark glanced at his watch again then rose from his seat, and you figured he had places to be. “I’d better get going. I have to pick up my son.”

“Your son?” you questioned, furrowing your brows. The confusion was fake, of course. You had a hunch that he was a father, but you had never seen or heard the child to confirm your suspicions. 

“Yes, my son,” Mark gave you a hard stare that you couldn’t make out. “It’s Friday and he stays with me this weekend so please, if not for my sake then for his, keep it down.” 

You gave Mark a nod. He bid you farewell and made a break for the door, the chime of the bells letting you know that he was gone. He had wanted to stay for a bit, play for a little longer, but decided it was a good thing he didn’t get much of a chance to make a move. For now, Mark was intent on observing you. He wanted to figure you out a bit more before he went to first base. 

But damn was he interested. There was something about you a couple of moments ago that he was attracted to, how you seemed equally bold as he was. A stark contrast from the first time he met you, but he figured that he had simply caught you at a bad time. 

That was the thing, though - Mark didn’t know you. He needed more time before he could be sure you were worth it.

For at least the weekend, you obliged Mark’s wishes. As aforementioned, you were a great deal of things, but you weren’t petty for the wrong reasons. Or outright odd. It wasn’t like you were loud for the sake of it, you truly just never realized what you were capable of. 

Over the course of those days, you continued to think about Mark. He had cut deep in your imagination and now there was a permanent scar that refused to heal. It was silly, being so hung over a guy you hardly knew and couldn’t have, but you couldn’t help it. 

Mark was giving you a headache. You weren’t one to be indecisive over what you wanted, but that wasn’t the case here. From the moment he showed up at your doorstep, you knew that you had to have him. The problem was that you wanted to outline boundaries. There were places you were able to step and then there were places you weren’t. The last thing you wanted was to scare him away because of your urges. 

The third time you saw Mark was the following weekend, bumping into him in the halls. You were going to apologize, but then his face fell into your vision. And thus, you noticed something completely new about it. 

“You have a stubble,” you commented, nearly gawking. 

Mark bobbed his head, grinning. He found it interesting how you gazed up at him as if you’d never seen a man with a stubble before. “Yeah. That’s what happens when you don’t shave. Shocking, I know.” 

“I kind of like it.”

He snickered. “Only kinda?���

More than kind of - and while you weren’t afraid to admit it, you ignored his question. The stubble was the completion to Mark’s physical attractiveness that you hadn’t even known you would be into. He was already hot as hell, though now he was somehow even hotter. 

He shot you a smug smile, unable to miss the way that you leered at him. You found him attractive. It was no secret and Mark wasn’t sure if you intended for it to be or not, though the way that you were unabashedly fucking him with your eyes gave him a huge hint. After last weekend’s encounter, you didn’t strike him as the type to shy away very easily. Confident. 

So was he. 

“You’re just standing here watching me like you want to eat me. Do you like it that much?” 

There were a couple of routes you could take with that question. Either you could be honest and tell him how you felt, or you could beat around the bush. You chose the former. 

“Sight for sore eyes,” you replied, finally meeting his eyes. He held eye contact with you as well as the expectation that you would break, but you proved him wrong. You kept looking him in his eyes as you said, “I love it. I think it suits the fuck out of you.”

Mark raised a brow, intrigued by your response. “Mm,” he hummed. He moved a step closer to you and asked, “What else do you like?” 

Your breath began to speed up and so did your pulse when you picked up on how close your bodies were. You were hyper aware of the proximity and it was slowly killing you, setting off visceral reactions in your body. Another inch and his lips would be brushing yours. It felt like a test on your behalf - to see how you would react and if you would chicken out - and you utterly refused to back down from the challenge. 

Deflecting, you tore your eyes from his lips and asked back, “Initiating a conversation with me in the middle of the hallway?” 

He cocked his head to the side. “Do you wanna come in, then?”

“I don’t think your girlfriend would like that very much,” you faked a pout, the most subtle sullen undertone hiding in your sentence. 

Mark resisted a grin. It was probable you were indirectly determining whether or not he was single. But the tiniest hint of sadness in your voice suggested that you might have genuinely been under the impression he was in a relationship. 

“What girlfriend?” He threw you an utterly confused look. “I haven’t been in a relationship since the birth of Christ.” 

You stared at him with genuine surprise. “I saw you sucking some girl’s face like last week.” 

“And have you seen her around here again since?” Mark scoffed, amused. 

What he was implying began to sink in gradually and you realized that you had made an awfully large assumption the other day. Though in your defense, people making out with their hookups like that was completely unheard of to you. It looked too passionate, especially for the morning after. When you had nothing to quip, Mark made a face at you that made you want to sink into the ground, and added, “She’s not my girlfriend - she was a fling. We had sex the previous night but I’m sure you weren’t able to tell because unlike someone, I know how to be quiet.”

Was. That meant not any more. 

Affronted, and refusing to take that, you took a step back and shot, “Maybe your dick game is just weak if she’s that quiet.”

“You wanna find out?” Mark cocked his head to the side with an exasperating smile, taking a step forward for every step you took backwards until your back hit a wall. It was obvious that you were trying to get a rise out of him and he wouldn’t take the bait. “Don’t knock it until you try it.”

Mark’s hands were on either side of you and his gaze rooted you in place. Neither of you seemed to give a damn that you were in public and in the view of a security camera. You kept staring at one another, pupils dilated with obvious want. Now that you were aware that Mark was single you deemed it perfectly safe to cave in to your desires, but you weren’t sure if you wanted to - yet. It was funny how whenever you finally got what you wanted, it was never enough. 

You smiled softly, matching the little smirk on his face - you didn’t want him to think that he had an advantage over you, and whether he did or didn’t wasn’t relevant. “Are you saying that you want me?” 

“I do want you,” Mark confessed without a care. He had no true intention of sleeping with you just yet, wanting to get to know you some more, but it wouldn’t hurt to admit that he was attracted to you nonetheless. “Do you want me?”

Seductively, you leered at him, then purred, “So bad.”

“Then, stop deflecting.”

With one little breath, you said, “Fine,” then closed the tiny gap between the both of you and your lips. When he kissed you back, your hands sought for his neck and his hooked around your waist. 

As you kissed Mark it only became more fierce, tongues and teeth clashing in attempts to maintain dominance over the other. Yet neither of you would cave. Both of you were fighting fire with fire and it was like nothing that either of you had ever experienced before. Mark displayed a clear need for power and control, and while you weren’t against letting him have it, you were never one to give it away that easily. 

You tugged on Mark’s hair, wanting to feel him as close as possible. His calloused hands began to wander all over you, kneading your skin and making you moan softly into his mouth. You could feel him grinning against your lips. His touch was like fire and your body was already burning with lust, desire, and everything in between. It had been so long since someone last touched you like this, kissed you like this. Mark was filling in all the little gaps and empty spaces. 

A rough pull at his locks made Mark groan into your mouth and he pinned your hands above your head, up against the wall. He got rougher, as if he was trying to fit you into the wall - or maybe force you through it. But the fervor was welcome, and although he had pinned your hands above your head, you still kissed him with as much eagerness as you were humanly capable. 

You pulled away when you had your fill, knowing that if you kept him close to you any longer you would make a move for his clothes, and your exhibitionism kink only extended so far. The both of you stared at one another with sheer lust, but there was an almost telepathic understanding between you. We have to wait. 

Out of breath, you casted Mark a flirtatious wink and smile before parting and said, “See you later, Mark.”

Then, you sashayed back to your apartment. When you felt his eyes boring holes into your back, you simpered to yourself. You had planted the seed; now all you had to do was let it grow. 

Days of messing around with Mark turned into weeks, but both of you were yet to succumb to your temptations. It was like you were waiting for the other to give in first and neither of you wanted to grant the other that satisfaction. 

But of course, after planting the seed you had to water it and give it sunshine. In other words, you continued to flirt with Mark, maintaining his interest. And in return, he maintained yours. From anyone else’s point of view it might have seemed silly to be resisting each other when it was clear as day that the lust was mutual, but you and Mark were too alike. Too much pride, and too much adoration for all things thrill and tension.

Even when he wasn’t in your company, Mark was on your mind. It had only gotten worse the moment you kissed him. In the beginning you only thought about him occasionally - mostly whenever you saw or heard him - but now he was creeping into your head during your downtime and that was a problem. Your thoughts consisted nearly completely of him. Mark, Mark, Mark. He was all you could think about. 

One weekend, you surprisingly encountered Mark at a playground. He appeared shocked to see you, but only let it show for a brief moment.

“I’m beginning to think that you’re the one stalking me. What in God’s name are you of all people doing at a playground?”

“Please. You’re not that special. I don’t have the time or energy to stalk anyone, baby,” you drawled with a hint of amusement. You pointed at a little girl. “You see that little girl in the purple shirt on the slide? That’s my niece. I’m babysitting her for my brother and sister-in-law. Today’s their anniversary and they wanted peace.”

Mark bobbed his head, understanding. “Of course. You can’t have any of that around a child. How old is she?”

“Just turned six about a week ago.” 

“Around my son’s age,” he remarked, then pointed towards the set of swings. A couple of children played over there, but only one young boy was in the group. And he looked almost just like someone you knew. “He’s right there on the swings. Six, but he’s nearing seven.”

He was absolutely adorable. You were already thinking about play dates between him and your niece. She was lovely and enjoyed meeting new people, bless her pure heart. 

You smiled softly with awe. “Stole your whole face. There’s no way in hell you could deny that boy.”

Mark snickered, shoulders shaking. “Damn right. My little mini-me,” he sighed happily. He took his eyes off his son for a split-second to glance over at you. You looked beautiful, as always. And you were watching your niece with so much intent and care that he doubted you had even snook a glance of your own his way. “Fond of kids?” 

“I babysitted throughout college,” you replied pensively. Reminiscent. “Believe it or not. I thought it was my calling because I was so responsible and the parents always praised me, plus it was a huge step towards individuality. Grew up with a lot of siblings and relatives, too, so I’ve always been around children.” 

Mark grinned, satisfied. That was the answer he wanted to hear. He was only curious because he was interested in you, and before he jumped too far ahead he needed to know what you thought about children. It was a relief that you had so much tenderness for and resonated so well with them. That gave him all the more reasons to want you by his side. “What about you?” he asked, adding when your face scrunched about with confusion, “Do you want kids of your own?” 

There was no reluctance in your answer, like you had already thought long and hard about the question before. “Someday. When I’m married and sure I’ve chosen the right person to settle down and have kids with. And when I have a less demanding job so that I’m able to take care of my family and spend time with them,” you said, smiling wistfully. “My parents were busy people. They weren’t around a whole lot so me and my siblings practically raised each other.” 

Mark gave you a look. One you could make out as pity. You thought his response would be predictable, but it caught you by surprise. “You don’t want to be pitied, do you?” 

You blinked, genuinely unsure of how to respond for a moment. Then you broke into a broad grin and said, “Nope.” 

“I feel for you anyways,” Mark gave a playful nudge to your side with his elbow. “And I think you have beautiful visions for the future. I can tell you’re gonna be a great mother.” 

You thanked him in a way that was positively bashful. For a while, you and Mark chatted about whatever the hell you wanted - topics in relation to the children, personal life, and everything in between. After the day you and Mark kissed, a more mutual effort to get to know each other blossomed. Mark told you everything there was to know about his job. Most of the time he worked from home without much need for overseer authorization, and set his own hours. As someone who loved being in control, it suited him. 

It was alarming that you had gotten so personal so fast. You had only known each other for a month, more or less, and only really began talking a couple of weeks ago. Yet you felt comfortable enough to share a certain level of information that you normally would conceal. 

You were becoming close in every sense of the word. The tension between you and Mark never fizzled out, it only seemed to grow more, and more, and more, until it would eventually explode in your faces. By then, you would have no choice but to confront it directly. You couldn’t wait. 

Mark wrapped his arm around your waist, and peered down briefly to look at it. Contact drove you crazy. You loved having Mark’s hands on you, even in non-sexual ways. 

He pulled you into him and asked, “How long are you keeping her?”

“Just until five. I’m taking her to her grandma’s after this,” you replied, shifting your gaze back to the playground. But a smug smile tugged your lips. “Why?”

There was a shine in Mark’s pretty brown eyes. It was almost five. Voice tickling your neck, he leaned in to say bluntly, “Because I wanna take you for a ride. Are you down?” 

You casted him an observant glance over your shoulder. What Mark wanted was clear, or so you thought, but you were in the mood for playing hard to get. As per usual. “Dunno. What kind of ride?” 

“The kind where we get in my car and go whatever the road and a full tank of gas leads us,” Mark shrugged. “It’s a yes-no question, doll. Are you down, or not?” 

Doll. That was new. You had reached the pet name stage, calling each other ‘baby’ a couple of times, but ‘doll’ was new. It also had you wishing that you were both alone so that you could do something about how badly you craved Mark in that moment. 

“I’m down. Meet me outside the complex at six?” You questioned, peering up at him yet again. You smiled when you met his eyes, unable to resist the urge. Mark made you feel good inside, all warm and gross. It was a delight to know you were still capable of feeling such a way. After all, it had been so long since the last time. 

Mark nodded and smiled back. “I will. Child-less, so that we can have peace of our own.” 

You giggled into his chest. You could smell his scent, and it was heavenly. 

At six o’clock, Mark was waiting for you downstairs like he said that he would be. And he was child-less. You both were. 

Ever the gentleman, he opened the passenger door of his car for you and shut it once you were completely inside. Of course, it took more than simple courtesy to impress you, but something about it was making you giggle. Something you couldn’t pinpoint.

Mark gave you a look once he settled in the driver’s seat. “What’s funny?” 

“Chivalry,” you sighed, smiling. “Apparently, it’s not dead.”

Mark was amused, but held back a snort. You were occasionally ridiculous, but just the right amount. He could tolerate it. 

As he gripped the steering wheel, the car jerked to live underneath his fingertips, and soon you were both rolling. You said nothing for a little while, Mark focusing on the road and you peering out the window. The silence wasn’t awkward, but he cut on the radio and began to hum the song that was currently playing. 

You glanced at him witheringly, but he was unbothered. Then, you teased with a grin, “Oh, yeah. Show out, Beyoncé.” 

“Stop being a hater,” Mark groaned, then went back to singing. 

After some moments of teasing, you were finally content and gave it a rest, relaxing into the leather seat. You were happy. If anyone had told you a month ago that you’d be in your new neighbor’s car listening to him sing songs from the radio, you would have called them insane. But you weren’t stupid and you knew better than to vulnerate yourself to a stranger. You told a couple friends about him and realized why Mark had seemed familiar - because he was. One of them knew Mark and was able to vouch for him, assuring you he was a good guy. That was why you felt so goddamn free. 

It was peaceful, being alone with Mark. Whenever you weren’t both determined to get into each other’s pants, that was. But there was none of that right now - only the scenery whirling by at the pace of the lightning, the radio prevailing over the silence, and Mark by your side. And you by his. It felt too damn nice. 

“You never answered my question that day.”

“Hm?” you gazed at him, confused. By his sentence and sudden will to ignite conversation, although you didn’t mind. “What question?”

Mark’s hand left the steering wheel and dropped to your thigh, which undoubtedly didn’t go unnoticed by you. He didn’t move it, but you couldn’t ignore his fingers on your skin. “I asked you, what else do you like?” 

“About you, or in general?”

He shrugged. “Whatever gets you talking.”

You gazed through the windshield, pretending to be pondering deeply. “Well, in general, I like a bunch of things. I’ve got a penchant for poetry and music. This tends to shock people, but parties aren’t my scene. I’m a more reserved person. I love the color blue.” 

“Why blue?”

“Because it looks amazing on me,” you winked. 

“Mm,” Mark glanced at you fleetingly through the rear-view mirror. That was when his fingers started moving, kneading your thigh. “What else?” 

“Hm, well,” you began, pretending to be unbothered by his touch. In reality, you were melting with every move. “About you, there’s a lot for me to like, too. You’re confident, smart, funny, sexy,” then you licked your lips and added, “And an excellent kisser.” 

Mark grinned, hand still massaging your bare skin. “What a sweet-talker you are. Keep going,” he whispered, then gave your thigh a little squeeze. 

But you were honest. There were too many things you admired about Mark that led you to becoming drawn to him in such a little period of time. Just as easily as he had been able to make you tell him things, you had persuaded him into opening up. There was still so much to learn about each other on deeper levels, but time was your best friend. For now, you decided that you would tell him what you already knew. 

“I like the way you put so much care and effort into what you love. I’ve heard you talk about your son, your friends, your job. You never neglect anything,” you confessed, smiling fondly as you recalled the conversations you’d had. “I like how we’re similar, too. I think that’s part of the reason why we feel comfortable moving so fast. We’re cut from the same cloth. We both know what we want and when and how we want it, and we’re not afraid to go get it. It’s like playing a damn game of tug of war whenever I’m with you.”

“Or a very calculated game of chess,” Mark added, shaking his head with amusement. 

You giggled. “But there’s something about you that’s so… alluring. I’m attracted to it. You’re a hardworking borderline control freak that’s unafraid of sincerity. I love it.”

“Romantic. I’m swooning,” he deadpanned, throwing you a playful glare. 

“And you’re the right amount of sarcastic.” 

“And that’s what gets you going?”

“Baby, please. If I could kiss you right fucking now, I would,” you admitted. 

Mark said nothing, but his fingers kept fondling with your flesh, and your breath kept getting out of control. He gave your thigh another reassuring squeeze, letting you know he heard you. 

Forest views took over. You pressed your fingertips to the window glass and watched as the rapid blur of scenes that once consisted of neon city lights turned green. Moss-coated branches replaced them, last rays of sunlight filtering through them as you neared the woods and the gravel roads turned to dirt. 

“Woods, very spooky. Are you gonna kill me and hide my body out here?” you asked him humorously, watching as he drove you through the wild.

Mark didn’t take his eyes off the road as he replied, “And dump it in the lake.” 

“Lake?”

He smiled. “You’ll see.” 

You did see a lake. Mark parked his car near some trees and once he helped you outside, led you down a trail until you reached a bridge. It was long and stretched above a medium body of water. Blossoming flowers lived in the grass and the scent was earthy. You stretched ever so slightly over the railing and saw yours and Mark’s reflection staring back at you. 

There were little fountains in the lake. Creatures made the water ripple and you watched with Mark’s arm wrapped around your waist as the smell and sound of nature filled your senses. Ducks pecked around the land edges of the lake in hunt of food. 

“It’s beautiful,” you exhaled in awe. The clouds and setting sun peered down on the water and you wished that you had your camera on your person. It was a sight too gorgeous to let become nothing more than a memory fading at the back of your head. 

Mark bobbed his head in agreement. The corners of his lips tugged upwards as he said, “It is. I come here from time to time whenever I need to clear my head. It’s a nice place that I’ve always wanted to share with someone.” 

“You trust me enough to share it with me?” you teased, palms on his chest as you gazed up at his face. “I mean, like what if I get arrested for tax fraud and every time you come here all you can think about is your old neighbor that got sent to prison for evading her taxes.” 

“Then, you better do your taxes, or else I’ll be right after you when you get out. For attempted murder.” 

You made a face of faux fear. “Shiver me timbers!” 

Somehow, Mark pulled you closer and gave you a kiss on the cheek. Any closer and you were sure he would be able to feel how fast your heart was beating. It was safe to say that you had a little crush on your neighbor. You wanted him to an extent that words couldn’t capture. 

There was something different with Mark. Linger was the perfect word to describe how his every action affected you. When he kissed you, you could still feel his lips on you moments afterwards. His every touch lingered on you, even the barest ones. You could taste him on you, his scent lingered on your body - it was too much. But Mark was too persistent. Even if you wanted to, and you didn’t, you couldn’t get away. 

Mark looked at you as if he wanted to kiss you, but to your misfortune, he didn’t. Instead his lips parted to say, “Watch the sunset with me.” 

Obediently, you turned to face the railing, which pleased him. He moved behind you and tightened his grip on your waist. 

The sunset was beautiful, even more so with Mark’s company. The two of you made conversation, all the while watching how the sky that was once a pleasant array of colors dulled a deep indigo. The sun descended below the horizon and its reflection in the water was replaced by the moon.

And you - the moonlight illuminated every inch of your face. Mark had always thought that you were gorgeous, but the moonlight made your beauty criminal. He couldn’t hold himself back any longer. 

“I can’t control myself anymore,” Mark growled. At first, you were confused, but when he whirled you around and pressed his lips against yours, you quickly understood. 

Mark backed you against the railing, cornering you. Kissing him was too much fun. It was the same battle, the same fervent effort to compel one of you to submit to the other’s touch, yet both of you always held out, keeping your white flags lowered. Mark had never met anyone that challenged him this much, and you had never met anyone so desperate to prove a point. 

When one of you pulled away, you not only were breathing heavily, but dangerously turned on. Your despires were no longer pure wants - they were needs. 

“Mark,” you exhaled through shallow breaths, “Please.” 

Mark cocked a brow, incredulous, yet amused. “You’re begging?” 

You nodded, casting him a needy glance that nearly made him want to give you everything you wanted then and there. It wounded your pride to beg him to do anything, but you weren’t necessarily above it anymore. Lust made you do anything - and it was flowing rapidly through your bloodstream. “Please, I want it.”

That much was entertaining to him, although Mark still didn’t want to give himself to you yet. It wasn’t that he wasn’t willing to have sex with you, but he wanted to bide his time. He wanted things a specific way and hooking up with you in his car simply wasn’t ideal. 

Mark shook his head. “I’m not fucking you in my car.” 

You pursed your lips and fought back the best way you knew how, huffing, “Why not? Don’t wanna fuck up your expensive seats? Car sex virgin?” 

“My first time was in the back of a car,” Mark told you matter-of-factly, being sure to smile in the most menacing way possible. It was only deserved for the way you left him that day that you kissed him. You wanted to kiss that stupid grin off his face, but you thought he didn’t deserve it. “And everything I wanna do to you can’t happen in a car. You’ve been patient all this time, baby, you can wait a little more.” 

“Ever the elaborate controlling perfectionist are you,” you drawled, faux aggravation to your tone.

Mark entwined his fingers with yours. “But you love that about me.”

“I never said that.”

“Oh? Must I remind you of your little love confession in my car earlier?” he teased. 

You rolled your eyes. “No, thank you. But I will be expecting a four-page love letter detailing everything you like about me in the mail signed ‘Markie Pooh’ soon. I like to be courted.” 

Mark gave your forehead a chaste peck, grinning as he joked, “I’ll enclose it with a kiss.” 

You giggled. 

Soon, Mark drove you back home and you were kissing him goodbye. It was a dramatic farewell, considering you lived right next door to him, but tonight had been magical and you were wondering where the time had gone. All you wanted to do was freeze time and kiss Mark on that bridge forever. 

But you were also sick to your stomach that he still wasn’t in your guts. And tonight, you had a plan that would undoubtedly make him snap and give you what you wanted. 

Last night, you gave yourself the release that your body was begging for, since Mark refused to fulfill your desires himself. And you made sure to be loud so that your intentions were obvious - ever since the last time he asked you to keep it down, you began doing an impressive job at suppressing your noises, muffling them into your pillow or biting your lip. But not last night. You called it being petty for the right reasons. That was what you were, and rather proudly. 

For a little extra flare, you moaned Mark’s name. As much as it was you being petty for the sake of setting him off, it was also a self-indulging experience. Fantasizing about your neighbor was what brought you to the edge quicker than anything, and you came harder than ever with the thought of him on your mind. 

Mark didn’t text you the following day. Usually, you would find time through your hectic work hours to chat, and you would spend the better half of your lunch break typing away at your phone, but it was radio silence. 

It was weird. Maybe you and Mark were alike in more ways than you thought, and he was also extremely petty. But for the wrong reasons, in your opinion. 

When you came home from work, Mark was standing outside his door, waiting. He leaned against it and stared you down. 

“Had fun last night?” 

Pretending to be oblivious as to what he was referencing, you played dumb and answered, “You mean, at the bridge? Of course. When are we going again?” 

“Don’t play dumb with me,” Mark chastised, glaring. “I heard you last night. You seemed like you were having a good time, you know, moaning my name and all like a slut.” 

Never had it ever crossed your mind that you would enjoy Mark calling you a slut, yet here you were, becoming more and more aroused the longer you pushed his buttons. With his commitment to patience, you typically never got much fun out of it, but right now he was approaching his limit and you were anticipating every second of it. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you replied, searching for your keys and acting as if you were paying him no mind. 

Mark wasn’t having any of it. For weeks you had all been all over each other, the mutual lust long-established, though now you were suddenly disregarding him and it was with one clear intention in mind. He wasn’t going to give in to your tricks, but he would play along with your little game. And he was going to win. 

The little remaining bits of restraint he had suddenly exhausted and Mark gripped your wrists, ignoring the sound of surprise you uttered as he dragged you into his apartment. The door slammed shut in your trail and he pushed you up against it, pinning your arms above your head as he began to kiss you with urgency. 

Kissing Mark was exhilarating. Whenever his lips were flush against yours, it was as if time stopped. Everything seemed to slow down but the dangerously rapid thud of your heart against your chest and the spreading wildfire in your body. You made an attempt to free your wrists from his seemingly tightening touch, writhing against him with desire to touch him, yet whatever strength you had Mark had more and you were unable to overpower his might. 

“Mark,” you exhaled, pulling away to catch your breath. “I want to touch you.” 

He hummed, an idea slithering into his brain. “If you want to so bad, then beg.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, slightly incredulous, yet the feeling dissipated when you remembered who exactly you were talking to. Scowling, you said, “I begged you once and now you’re getting too used to it.” 

“If you want to get your way when it comes to me, then you better start getting used to it. Now, do you wanna get your pretty little hands on me, or not?” 

You sighed. “I do.”

Mark gave you an expecting look. “Then, beg.” 

“You want me to get on my knees, too?” you deadpanned, shooting him a sharp glare that he seemed utterly unbothered by - and it exasperated you. 

The grin on his lips then was infuriating. “Don’t worry, you’ll do that later.” 

Ignoring the very obvious implication of those words, you made a face, but the look in Mark’s eyes when you met his gaze was so goddamn commanding. The dominance to his aura that you had been so intent on destroying was finally getting to you. 

“Please,” you whimpered, trying to ignore how pathetic you sounded. “Let me touch you, Mark, please.” 

Satisfied, Mark let go of your wrists and his lips immediately fell back on yours, the need to kiss you resurfacing. It was like resuming, pressing play and pause. There was something about hearing and seeing you beg - especially against your will - that he found so arousing. You were so resistant to his dominance and it was all too entertaining to see you finally succumb. 

Your hands raced to his shirt and with his own assistance, you hiked it above his head, hands flying to his chest afterwards. For a moment, your eyes opened to ogle at him, wallowing in the sight of his bare skin. Mark began to tug at your blouse and you both began to undress one another, leaving a trail of clothes behind you as you both headed to his bedroom. 

By the time you got to his bed, you were stripped down to nothing but your undergarments. Lying flat on your back, you watched as Mark took his sweet time to crawl over you. His hand moved at an agonizingly slow pace from your thighs, to your stomach, to your clothed breasts. You felt as if your breath was stuck in your throat as you anticipated what he would do next, and he finally leaned in your ear, whispering, “You do look good in blue.” 

He kissed you there for a little longer, heated and passionate, then pulled you up and said, “Get on your knees.” 

Submissively, you sank to the floor without a fight, which both pleased and surprised Mark. Though the little sly grin playing on your lips was a good enough indicator that you were planning something. And you were. Any other time you would have refused to listen to him without first making an attack on his pride, but you were skilled with your tongue and had a line of people you’d been with to show for it. 

You were resolved to make him unravel - and you would. 

The bulge of his dick was prominent through his underwear, of which you tugged down in desperate haste. You had wanted a taste of him for only God knows how long. 

His dick sprung against his stomach and by then your mouth was watering. You took him into your palm, smiling up at Mark as you began to leisurely pump him. Your efforts to tease him only became worse, intentionally letting your lips graze the head of his dick every now and then, giving him false hope that you’d finally get to the best part. 

“Don’t tease me, doll. You won’t like what’ll happen if you keep up,” Mark warned. 

“Punish me, Mark,” you said, smiling broadening. 

He wasn’t given the chance to respond before you took his cock into your mouth, a little grunt leaving his mouth instead. You were taking him into your mouth bit by bit, efforts to tease him still lingering. Mark grabbed a fistful of your hair and held it behind your neck. 

Mark, a man of patience, was beginning to lose the thing he clung to most. He used your hair to force you down on him some more. “Stop fooling around and take it, baby. Put your mouth to good use for once.” 

In pursuit of spiting him, you fooled around for a moment longer, though finally gave up contentedly after you figured that you’d frustrated him enough. Soon you were steadily bobbing your head up and down his length, cheeks hollowed, his fingers gripping your hair to control your movements to an extent. 

The wet sound of your mouth sucking his dick and his little noises of pleasure echoed throughout the bedroom. You smiled to yourself slyly at a thought you were having. Mark was a groaner. 

He sounded heavenly. You were quick to discover his weaknesses, catching on to how he became noisier. Mark wasn’t the loudest guy that you’d been with, fairly moderate, but he was still unable to hide the signs that said loud and clear you were making him feel good. You looked up at him through your eyelashes and saw how pleasure was written all over his face, lips parted and his eyes closing from time to time. 

That drove Mark borderline insane, you peering up at him like that - and you had already known that it would. At the end of the day, Mark was simply a man, after all. And you had men all figured out. 

“Good girl. Just like that,” he praised, pushing your head down a little more. 

Your fingers wrapped around the base of his cock and you stroked him all the while sucking him off, tasting pre-cum on your tongue. You could feel him twitching in your mouth and it was a pleasure. There was no denying he was close. 

When Mark noticed you slowing down in efforts to tease him, he was displeased and decided that he had enough of your schemes. The loosened, relaxed grip on your hair suddenly tightened and he began to thrust into your mouth, taking control. You were good with your mouth and able to take it deep, but the sudden movement caught you off-guard and you began to gag. 

“Just when I praise you, you decide you wanna be a little fucking brat,” Mark spat, pulling your hair again. “You just can’t listen, can you?”

You glared up at him, tears pricking your eyes, and the sight made him let out a laugh. He knew as well as the next person that you liked acting tough, but with tears in the corners of your eyes and a cock in your mouth, you looked nothing short of pathetic.

He shot you a withering look, adding, “You always act like you have the whole world in the palm of your hands. You try to get under my skin because you want to see me succumb to the same tricks you play on everyone else, but you know I won’t give an inch and you don’t know how to handle it. Wish you could see how pathetic you look when you shut the hell up and take my cock.” 

Right now you wished that he would shut the hell up, but oddly enough, his words were turning you on. You silently prayed that he wouldn’t catch on to how wet you were getting with every passing moment. 

Mark was close. His sentences became raspy, deep groans and his pace was relentless, merciless. Like he was trying to bruise the very back of your throat. It took everything in you not to choke out, but you refused to give him the satisfaction in seeing you in such a vulnerable state. He was already enjoying this too much. 

Mark groaned, “Fuck. You gonna swallow it, babe?”

As a way of saying ‘yes’, you hummed around his shaft and the vibration was making him lose his mind. You swiftly moved one of your palms to wipe at a streak of tears on your cheeks before he noticed. 

You doubted that he did. Mark was in another world, eyes closed as he was overcome by pleasure. The warmth and wetness of your mouth was everything and he was out of control, movements unrestrained. He came in your mouth with a grunt, giving your hair one last violent tug as his climax struck his body. You milked him dry, taking every bit of his cum in your mouth that you could possibly manage. 

There was a noise when you rolled him out of your mouth, looking him in his eyes immediately afterwards. Mark was breathless, and so were you, but he could only smile. 

You gave him a look, voice slightly hoarse from the throat-fucking as you asked, “What?” 

“Nothing,” he replied, smile unfaltering, but it was obviously something. “I’m simply enjoying the way you look with spit and my cum on your lips and chin.” 

You rolled your eyes and wiped yourself clean with the back of your hand. “And I was enjoying the way you looked like you were on the verge of losing your shit.” 

“Funny how you’re only quiet when you have a dick in your mouth.”

Wittily, you retorted, “Maybe I would shut up if you fucked me.” 

Instead of giving you an immediate response, Mark pulled you back onto the mattress, hovering above you as you lay flat on your back. “Mm-hm. That’s why you were moaning my name so loud last night, right? Because you wanted my dick?”

One of his palms slipped underneath the band of your underwear and you let out a little cry of surprise when you felt his fingers brushing against your arousal. You were holding in your breath. It had been so long since anyone had you like this and you were touch-starved, feeling completely deprived of sex and nearly the memory of what it was like. 

His free hand gave a loud, resounding smack to your thigh, and you yelped. “That was a question, doll.” 

“Yes,” you choked out. “Please. I want it so bad, Mark.”

“So wet, all for me,” he sighed with bliss. His fingers were now plunging inside your pussy, sliding in and out with ease. You hadn’t been this wet in ages. “How long has it been since you were last with someone?”

“I don’t know, like three months,” you guessed, not really wanting to think about it when his touch was all you could focus on. “A really long fucking time, basically.” 

Mark made a face, surprised. “No wonder you’re so damn needy.”

His teasing did nothing to help and you were quickly growing impatient. There was no need to explain why it had been so long, you were certain he already knew. With your work schedule there was rarely time to meet new people and you had no one to come home to. But Mark made it too goddamn easy, and considering how hard you worked, you could use a good fuck. 

“It’ll be a year by the time you fuck me,” you grumbled, impatient. What more did he want you to do? You sucked him off, begged, and yet he was still torturing you by resisting. It was like he was deliberately trying to get you to lose your goddamn mind, and knowing Mark, you wouldn’t put it past him. It was working. 

Mark said nothing, looking at you blithely. And hungrily. There was still a layer of clothes obstructing the view of your bare skin, and greedily his hands flew to the band of your underwear. You bit back a whimper at the feeling of being suddenly empty, but Mark tore your panties past your ankles, and your bra immediately followed as he tugged on the straps. 

The sight of your naked body had Mark’s dick throbbing and he swore then that you were Aphrodite. You were driving him past the brink of insanity. He had envisaged your body in his dreams and fantasies, though nothing could have prepared him for how beautiful you looked sprawled out on his sheets and he could only think one thing. Goddamn. 

That was it for him. He was still resolved to tease you to sheer hell, but he could keep playing your games while inside of you.

You made a tiny gasp when you felt the head of Mark’s cock prod your folds. The sight of your pussy was his kryptonite - you were dripping with arousal. You wanted him so badly and he wanted you just as much. He pushed the tip in with a raspy groan and made a couple slow, shallow thrusts. 

Then a couple turned into too many for you to count and you were becoming impatient. More than you already were. “Mark, hurry the hell up,” you grumbled. 

“Mm, no. I think I’ll keep going like this,” Mark teased. After the way you treated him only moments ago, he wasn’t the least bit sympathetic. “I told you, you weren’t going to like what happened if you kept teasing me. Now look.” 

Just like he said you wouldn’t, you weren’t liking this. He was agonizingly slow, not deep enough, and it was all deliberate. Karma was a fucking bitch. 

“Fuck you,” you spat, insincere. 

Mark was totally unbothered, seemingly paying you no mind as he replied, “That’s no way to talk to the man who you’re so wet for. Ask me nicely and maybe I’ll reconsider.” 

Holding back a groan in fear of his changing his mind about reconsidering, you tidied up the sentence you were preparing to say to him and fixed your tone. “Mark, can you please move faster?” 

“Don’t you sound so sweet when you ask like a good girl,” Mark sang. Before you could muster a response, he finally thrusted completely into you and you moaned. The way your pussy gripped him was his vice, and you stretched to accommodate his size. 

In no time he also discarded his formerly slow pace and adopted a new, speedier one. The way he was pounding you was so deep and perfect and you grabbed his shoulders, desperately needing something to cling to.

This type of experience used to only exist in your head. More often than not, you winded up touching yourself to the thought of the man before you as a way to cope with your stress and lechery. You would close your eyes and picture his dark hair matted by sweat, his face scrunched up with pleasure. You would imagine the noises that he’d make when he finally felt the grip of your pussy around his dick, the way your body responded to his every touch. It got you off too quick, tempting you to march over to his apartment and demand he finished the job. 

But you never did. You wanted to see him lose his patience - and you did. 

“Pussy’s so damn tight,” Mark groaned, which made you grin smugly. You knew that already. 

Mark leaned low and began to press soft kisses into your skin, his thumb brushing over your stiff nipples. He found you utterly beautiful, no flaw in his eyes. The breathy sounds you were making in response felt like hearing an angel. 

Although you were enjoying yourself, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing and said, “Don’t be gentle with me, baby.”

Mark smiled softly. “I don’t plan to be, doll.” 

When Mark was finished with your breasts, his mouth replaced them, beginning to latch roughly onto your neck. Which made you sigh out in bliss. The feeling of his teeth digging sharply into your flesh made you certain that he was going to leave Mark’s, and you were too fond of it. You wanted Mark to make you his. 

Everything was too much in the best way possible. You were intoxicated by the feeling of Mark’s bare cock between your walls, striking the sweetest parts of you. Your mouth parted in too-loud moans of his name. 

He gripped your throat, looking you dead in the eyes as he commanded, “Be fucking quiet.”

That made you clench around his length. At first, your eyes widened, but you recovered swiftly and your lips curled into a broad smile as you met Mark’s gaze. The look on your face right then made his cock twitch. 

“You like that, huh?” he asked, tightening the grip around your neck. You couldn’t get a single coherent word out, choking, but the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head was more than the perfect answer. 

Mark let go of your throat after a moment and began to watch the way your cunt swallowed him whole. It was satisfying to have you at his disposal like this. He was hell bent on taming you, no matter how many fucks it took; the more the merrier. He couldn’t get enough of the way you felt - warm, wet walls clamping tightly around his size - and he knew deep down that there was no way in hell this would be the last time. 

There was no going back. He was set on you; you on him. You were different from anyone he had ever been with before, you were a challenge. Brats were something he never thought he would be fond of, wallowing in the fact that most women bent to his will. But you caught onto his behavior fast and opposed it, resolved to break down his walls, and he was game. Mark never went down without a fight, though neither did you, and he liked it too damn much. 

Taming you was fun. It was something he never knew that he needed until you suddenly came into his life, providing him a little thrill and excitement on a silver platter. You were so much like him that it was all too easy to read you, to find out what made you tick. And making you feel defeated was what he got out of trying to put a leash on your wildness. 

Not too long after, you were moaning in a chant, “Mark,” his words forewarning you to be quiet going in one ear and out of the other. You couldn’t help it. It felt perfect. He was so deep and so thick, making you feel full. 

“Brat,” Mark hissed, shaking his head. But with how utterly disobedient you were he didn’t bother to scold you again, taking matters into his own hands by picking your panties and shoving them into your mouth. “That’ll shut you up.” 

There was an instant sound of protest and likely you cursing at him, considering how you narrowed your eyes at him, but there was no way for him to tell. Mark smiled tauntingly. “Can’t hear you, babe,” he said.

You raised your middle finger in a silent retaliation, but Mark retaliated back even quicker and lifted your hands above your head, pinning them down to the mattress. You felt so fucking powerless, yet Mark had so much power over you and your body. It wasn’t fair. 

It wasn’t long before you could finally sense your orgasm building up, a dam on the very verge of breaking loose. Everything felt otherworldly and you swore that you were no longer breathing. Like you were gone, but your body was still physically alive and well. Pleasure ripped through every last vein in your bare body and consumed it in its entirety, swallowing you in its mass. 

Mark’s pace was merciless, and when he moved one of his hands to wrap around your throat, so was the tight squeeze on both sides. It was damn near bruising and your eyes were fluttering, but you didn’t want him to stop. You were internally begging that he wouldn’t. 

Your panties fell from your mouth and you took the opportunity to ask with a struggle, “Can I please cum, Mark?” 

“Let go for me, babe,” Mark grunted, resisting the urge to comment on how pathetic you sounded asking for permission in your hoarse little voice. It came to him as a pleasant surprise, and a satisfying sound that left his dick throbbing. 

There was no need to tell you twice. You came with one last cry of his name, back arching as you began to come undone. It was explosive, your entire body reacting to the intensity of it. Your toes clenched and your pussy gripped relentlessly around his shaft. You swore that you were beginning to see stars. 

Mark pulled out and came on your stomach with a deep sexy groan, the sight and sound of you at your very climax triggering his own orgasm consecutively. His hands loosened their grip and set you free, and soon you were both lying flat on his bed, panting heavily. 

“So,” he began through shallow breaths, and you braced yourself for whatever he could have possibly said next. “How’s that for a weak dick game?” 

You glanced at him confused, then suddenly broke into a fit of laughter after you recalled what he was referencing. You had insulted his game. “I take it back,” you replied. “It’s alright.”

Mark raised a brow. “Just alright? Like I didn’t have to put your panties in your mouth because you wouldn’t stop screaming my name?” 

“I was not screaming.”

“You were screaming. And…,”

Before he could add anything else - and you knew he would, refusing to let you live anything that happened today down - you smashed your lips against his and carded your fingers through his hair, effectively shutting him up. Mark kissed back with joy, smiling against your lips. All of the other kisses that you two shared had consisted of rough, unrestrained attempts at dominating one another, but this was slow and sweet. It was gentle, and dare you say loving. 

“One more round?” you asked when you pulled away. 

Mark snickered. “Don’t tempt me, baby. If we start with one it might become two.”

You licked your lips and grinned. That was useful information. “Nope, I’m tempting you. Now give in.”

Mark gave your lips another kiss, but immediately became distracted once he caught another glimpse of the swell of your breasts. “Damn, baby,” he sighed contentedly, running his hands over the shape. “I just fucking might.” 

Temptations. Oh, how dangerous they were. But caving into them might have been the best decision you’d ever made - and Mark was living proof. 

He was your temptation.

[joelmillerisapunk]

my dirty little secret

no outbreak bfd!Joel Miller x f!reader

masterlist

↳ Wordcount: 5,422

↳ Summary: Since staying at the Millers, you've done nothing but tease Joel, seeing just how far you can push him. Joel's tired of it and decides it's time to take control of the situation.

~ Or ~

↳ Joel's tired of being hard all the fucking time while you're around and gives you a taste of your own medicine.

↳ Warnings: 18+, soft but dom, large age gap (make it your own 🩷), teasing, unprotected p in v, use of "daddy, baby girl, good girl" slight use of "slut" and "brat"

↳ Notes: Hi, this is the first fic I've ever posted anywhere and the first smut I've ever written. I'm scared beyond belief, but I hope you enjoy 🥰 dividers by @saradika-graphics. This was inspired from many different songs and that scene in preoutbreak where Joel's on the phone with Tommy in the gif I horribly made but it gave 'me giving daddy a nice treat while he's on the phone'.

Joel tried to avert his gaze,  but it was near impossible when you left the door halfway open.  It seemed like an intentional act, a performance meant solely for him. The way you nonchalantly slipped off your shirt, your bra following suit, revealing your bare shoulders and neck, was a sight that he couldn't ignore. He knew he shouldn't be watching, that it was wrong on so many levels. You were significantly younger than him and, more importantly, Sarah's best friend. But when your jeans dropped to the floor, and you bent over to remove them, Joel couldn't help the surge of blood that rushed to his cock.

He yearned for your panties to join the pile on the floor. As you started putting on your pajamas, he remained transfixed, watching your hips sway as you donned the tiniest pajama shorts he had ever seen, and the t-shirt from the previous night. He felt an urgent need to leave before you realized he was there, watching. But he couldn't bring himself to move.

Ever since you started staying with him and Sarah, you'd been a constant presence in his dreams. He couldn't fathom why, but the thought of you was never far from his mind. The dreams were always so vivid, so real, and they left him yearning for more. He wasn't sure if it was you or your presence that attracted him. But the urge to reach out and touch you, to feel the softness of your skin under his fingers, was becoming increasingly difficult to resist.

In his dreams, he'd already crossed that line, reaching out to you, pulling you close. His cock twitched at the memory, and he groaned softly, his imagination running wild. When he finally opened his eyes, he realized you had finished dressing. He quickly left, hoping to escape before you caught him. But the image of you, half-naked, was burned into his mind, a sight he knew he wouldn't be able to forget anytime soon.

As soon as you were certain Joel had left, you tiptoed to the door, peeking around the corner. Seeing no one, I giggled to myself and closed the door. The thought of Joel had been consuming you ever since you first met him and Sarah during your first day of college. Watching him lug around heavy boxes, his thick arms straining with the effort, had sparked something within you. You couldn't help but imagine what those large hands would feel like on your body.

So, when you found yourself in need of a place to stay, you couldn't have been more grateful for the Miller's hospitality. They welcomed you with open arms, offering you a room as long as you needed it. And you couldn't resist the urge to test the waters, to see just how far you could push Joel.

In your mind, you were determined to break him, to make it impossible for him to resist you. Every glance, every touch, was a calculated move on your part. You wanted him to see you, to really see you, and to want you just as much as you wanted him.

Your mind wandered back to the way his eyes had lingered on your body, the way his breath had caught in his throat. It was a small victory, but it was enough to keep you going, to keep pushing the boundaries.

The morning sun streamed through the curtains, casting a warm glow on your face as you slowly stirred from your slumber. The scent of pancakes and coffee wafted up from downstairs, mingling with the faint sound of music coming from down the hall. Your bed was soft and inviting, but you knew you needed to start your day.

You made your way to the bathroom, still half-asleep, eager to take a quick shower and start your day. But as you opened the door, you were met with an unexpected sight. Joel was in the shower, completely unaware of your presence.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do. But you couldn't resist the temptation to take a peek. You positioned yourself behind the privacy wall, peeking around the corner just enough to catch a glimpse.

Joel was soaping himself up, completely oblivious to your presence. You couldn't help but notice the way the water droplets slid down his muscular arms and chest, tracing a path through the greyed hairs that decorated his body. You imagined what it would be like to run your fingers down his toned chest, feeling the strength and warmth of his body beneath your fingertips.

The sight of him took your breath away, and you couldn't help but feel a stirring of desire deep within you. You had always found Joel attractive, but in that moment, you realized just how much he had been consuming your thoughts.

Joel suddenly turned off the shower and turned around, catching you mid-peek. Your eyes were still glued to him, and you couldn't help but stare at his god-like form, his body dripping with water. He couldn't help but smirk at you, his muscles glistening in the light.

Joel started walking toward you, stopping inches from your face. You could smell the body wash he had been using, and you felt your heart racing in your chest. You were frozen in place, unsure of what to do.

"Sorry, Mr. Miller, I thought the shower was free," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. Joel just smiled at you, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"It's okay, darlin', I don't mind the company," he said, gently touching your face. You felt his strong hands on your skin, and you couldn't help but close your eyes for a moment, enjoying the embrace.

Joel leaned closer to you, his face almost touching yours. He put his other hand around your waist and pulled you against his wet, naked body. You could feel his warmth radiating off of him, and you couldn't help but shiver in anticipation. "Mr. Miller - I," you started to say, but Joel interrupted you mid-sentence, covering your mouth with the hand resting on the side of your face.

"Shhhh," he whispered, pressing his lips against your ear. You shivered slightly as he sucked softly on your earlobe, sending goosebumps up and down your spine. He began to stroke your hair, and he whispered again, "You can't help it, can you? You wanted this, didn't you?" His voice was husky and deep, and it sent shivers down your spine. Your heart was racing, and you couldn't help but nod your head in agreement.

"You been with a man before?" he asked in a low voice as he moved his lips further south and down your neck. Joel's tongue flicked out lightly, grazing your collarbone, and you sighed at the sensation.

But you quickly remembered Joel was asking you a question, and you had to answer honestly.

You shook your head, "No" you squeaked quietly, "No sir," the truth was you had been with other men before, but they were no men compared to who you were with right now. Joel chuckled a bit, his cock definitely growing now.

"Oh sweet girl, I'm gonna show you how a real man's supposed to take care of you," he said, his voice low and husky. Suddenly Joel pushed you against the tile wall and pinned your hands above your head. He kissed you deeply, then moved his lips down your jaw, neck, and collarbone, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

As soon as Joel caught you peaking behind the wall, he lost all resolve. He knew you were playing some game, but right now all he could think about was getting inside you. With you in his arms, pressed against the wall, Joel pressed his lips to your neck, breathing you in and letting out a groan. Your nipples hardened in anticipation through the fabric of your thin pajama shirt.

Just as Joel was about to take you to his bed and fuck you senseless, he heard Sarah's rushed footsteps making their way up the stairs. Without wasting another second, Joel carried you to the shower and turned it on, hoping to muffle any sounds you might make. The water was cold at first, but Joel quickly adjusted the temperature, and you gasped as the warm water cascaded down your body.

"Dad? Breakfast is ready. It's gonna get cold!" Sarah called out, clearly wondering where Joel was.

"Uh yeah sorry kiddo, I'm coming," Joel called back, his voice strained with restraint. As he turned the shower off, you tried to pull his hand off your mouth, but his grip only tightened.

"Hurry up!" you both heard before the rushed steps back down the stairs. Joel let go of your mouth and pulled you to his bare chest. He buried his nose in your neck and inhaled deeply. You moaned in contentment.

"I think it might be time for me to get out, baby girl," Joel murmured, his voice low and husky. He could feel how needy you were, and he was desperate to get inside you. Your body warmed furiously, and you nodded against his shoulder before slowly pushing yourself away from him. Before leaving the shower, he grabbed your chin in his hands and tilted it, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Daddy's gonna take care of you, don't worry." He grinned before wrapping a towel around his waist. He left the bathroom, leaving you to get dressed and compose yourself.

After your little encounter in the shower, Joel couldn't help but steal glances at you throughout dinner. He sat across from you at the table, trying to maintain his composure as he listened to Sarah chatter on about her day. But his thoughts kept wandering back to you, to the way you felt in his arms, to the way you responded to his touch.

He couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt for betraying Sarah's trust, but he couldn't deny the feelings that had awakened within him. You were a breath of fresh air, a ray of sunshine in his otherwise mundane life. You made him feel alive, and he couldn't help but be drawn to you.

You tried to focus on the conversation, but you couldn't help but steal glances at Joel as well. You couldn't help but think about the shower, about the way his body felt against yours, about the way he looked at you with such intensity. You hadn't even kissed him yet, but you couldn't deny the attraction you felt towards him.

Taking advantage of the distraction, you allowed your foot to brush against Joel's under the table. You felt him stiffen slightly, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he subtly moved his foot closer to yours, letting you know he was enjoying it.

As Sarah kept talking, you couldn't help but let your mind wander. You imagined what it would be like to kiss Joel, to feel his lips on yours. You imagined what it would be like to run your hands over his body, to feel his muscles tense beneath your fingertips. Before you knew it, your foot had made its way up Joel's inner thigh, stopping just short of his hardening cock. Joel jolted in his chair, trying to maintain his composure as he felt your foot against him.

He tried to shift in his seat to create distance, but your leg always seemed to find its way back. This time, it made its way to the tip of his very hard cock. Before he could think, he quickly put his hand on top of your foot to hold it down. But it was too late. Sarah looked confused when he did so, and Joel just smiled at her apologetically. He couldn't say anything because he felt like he might come any second. When he finally regained his composure, he cleared his throat awkwardly.

"I'll clean up in a bit, need to use the washroom." Without missing a beat, he bolted out of his chair and was walking a little too fast upstairs.

After your footplay under the table, Joel excused himself and went upstairs to collect himself. When he returned, he found the kitchen cleaned up and you sitting on the couch. He sat down next to you and asked, "Where's Sarah?" You looked over at him, smirking playfully. "She said your cooking made her sick."

Joel laughed at your comment and moved closer to you. He brushed his finger along the soft flesh on the inside of your thigh, causing your breath to catch in your throat. "You're playing a dangerous game little girl, and I think you know that." He whispered huskily against your skin, leaning closer to you until his lips touched your neck. He gently nibbled your earlobe before whispering, "But, I don't mind playing dirty."

He placed his mouth softly against your earlobe, causing you to shiver with anticipation. His hand was now moving further and further up your inner thigh until it just brushed over your throbbing clit. His lips still hovered by your ear. "You're quite the little brat, aren't you?" He murmured. "Thinking you can tease me like that, huh? Gotta play by my rules right now, I'm in charge tonight... and you're gonna behave, is that understood little girl?"

But you were still feeling a little defiant. You wanted to see just how far you could push him. You pulled away, keeping your face inches from his. "You think you can tame me?" You questioned, watching as his eyes darkened slightly. Joel grabbed your face roughly with his calloused hands, causing you to back down a little in surprise.

"I don't like the word tame. I prefer the word... break." He said, his voice low and commanding. "If I'm gonna take charge, I'm gonna take it completely. I promise you, you're not gonna be wild by the end of the night. Not with the way you've been goin' around acting like a little slut. I'm not gonna sit back and watch you throw yourself at me. I'm not gonna be satisfied just sitting there waitin' for you. I'm gonna fuck you until you can't walk. I don't plan on being patient tonight, so unless you want me to take you right here, right now..."

Before Joel could finish his sentence, you heard footsteps begin to descend the stairs. Joel immediately released your face and turned towards the staircase. You stood up, your heart beginning to pound wildly in your chest as rushes of adrenaline and arousal rushed through you. Joel stood up as well, taking a deep breath and attempting to steady himself. He glanced at you, and you could see the hunger in his eyes. You bit your lip, staring nervously back at him, 

The footsteps grew louder as Sarah descended the stairs, and it felt like time slowed as you both waited for her to make it down. She looked at the two of you suspiciously. "Uh, hey. Was just gonna watch a movie." she pointed to the couch where you and Joel had been sitting.

"Well, I think I'm gonna turn in early. I'm feeling a little tired. Enjoy your movie." You said, before heading upstairs. Joel's gaze watched your figure retreat up the steps, and he turned back to Sarah. "I got some paperwork to catch back up on. Enjoy your movie kiddo." He walked past Sarah and headed upstairs.

He was going to go to his room but something made him want to check in on you. So Joel approached your door and let it creak open slightly. To his dismay, you weren't there. Probably in the bathroom, he thought.

So he headed back down the hall to his room, and when he opened the door, there you were, on his bed.

Joel's jaw dropped slightly when his eyes connected with yours. He could barely focus on anything other than you, how you were lying, how you were breathing, how your hair looked, and how perfect your body was. Joel slowly closed the door after him and took a couple of slow steps toward you. You laid perfectly still, watching him with wide doe eyes - the ones of a tease, a brat who needed a real man to take control of her...and Joel was gonna deliver.

Joel made a quick glance to his door, before turning back to you. "Are you trying to kill me?"

"Nah, I just thought you deserved a little surprise." You teased, while letting your hand run delicately down your body and under the band of your shorts. Joel was done with your games, your teasing. He was about to fuck you like you had never been fucked before. The look in your eyes was almost as arousing as the way your hand worked its way down your body.

You were giving him a look that screamed submission. It said you would do whatever he said if he only commanded it of you. So he leaned down, grabbing a chunk of your hair roughly in his hand, forcing your head upwards, causing you to gasp in surprise and arousal.

"You do exactly what daddy says, and I'll treat'ya real good baby." Joel, as if on cue, reached his other hand underneath your shorts. His fingers found their way to your pussy, lightly caressing you through the fabric of your panties. You couldn't help whimpering and moaning. Joel began massaging more intensely, increasing your pleasure with each second. It was all too much, and Joel was enjoying every second of it. Your moans became higher pitched and more desperate as he continued, "Daddy please."

 When the words "Daddy please" came from your sweet lips, Joel couldn't help but smile. A rush of heat landed in his abdomen, and he knew he had to take control of the situation.

He took his hands off of you and backed away from the bed completely. He sat in the chair in the corner and slowly undid his belt, letting it fall to the floor. "Come on, be daddy's good girl and get undressed."

As he sat there waiting, he continued to unbutton his pants and release the zipper. He never took his eyes off you as he let his cock free from the confines of all material. You couldn't help but whimper a little at the sight.

"Come on now, nice and slow baby, give daddy something nice to watch." He motioned for you to start undressing.

You stood from the bed and started with your top, ever so slowly lifting it over your head and letting it land beside you. As soon as your top hit the floor and your breasts were exposed, Joel let out a pleasurable groan.

You walked closer to Joel and grasped the waistband of your shorts. As soon as your tank top fell, and you walked toward him, you felt Joel place his hands on your wrist. "Let daddy help you."

With your wrist still in his hand, he led you to the chair he just got out of. "Bend over," he ordered. Joel pulled the chair closer, so he could reach your ass. You let out a shaky breath as he knelt behind you.

He slowly removed your shorts and panties, taking his time to admire every square inch of skin that came through. Finally, the materials were down your ankles and hitting the floor. Joel let out a deep primal moan, almost a groan at the sight, at the perfect globes sitting inches from his face.

When the words "Daddy please" came from your sweet lips, Joel couldn't help but smile. A rush of heat landed in his abdomen, and he knew he had to take control of the situation.

He took his hands off of you and backed away from the bed completely. He sat in the chair in the corner and slowly undid his belt, letting it fall to the floor. "Come on, be daddy's good girl and get undressed."

As he sat there waiting, he continued to unbutton his pants and release the zipper. He never took his eyes off you as he let his cock free from the confines of all material. You couldn't help but whimper a little at the sight.

"Come on now, nice and slow baby, give daddy something nice to watch." He motioned for you to start undressing.

You stood up from the bed, your heart pounding in your chest as you slowly lifted your top over your head, letting it fall to the floor beside you. As soon as your top hit the floor and your breasts were exposed, Joel let out a low groan of pleasure.

You walked closer to him, your legs feeling like jelly as you grasped the waistband of your shorts. As you began to slide them down, you felt Joel's hands on your wrist. "Let daddy help you," he said, his voice deep and husky.

With your wrist still in his hand, he led you to the chair he had just been sitting in. "Bend over," he ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument.

You did as you were told, bending over the chair and exposing your ass to him. Joel pulled the chair closer, so he could reach you better, and you let out a shaky breath as you felt him kneel behind you.

He slowly removed your shorts and panties, taking his time to admire every inch of your skin that came into view. Finally, the materials were down your ankles and hitting the floor. Joel let out a deep primal moan, almost a groan at the sight of your perfect ass sitting inches from his face.

You weren't sure what you expected when you came into Joel's room, but here you were, face down, ass up on his bed. When Joel's large hands found their way onto the curves of your ass, squeezing tightly, you couldn't help but let out a gasp and whine.

You lifted your hips slightly, trying to relieve the ache forming between your legs. You could feel Joel's warm breath against your inner thighs as he teased you, inching upward to your clit.

Ever so lightly, he swiped his tongue over your clit, and the feeling sent waves of shivers shooting down your spine. You began to buck your hips up against his lips, trying to encourage him to continue. But Joel stopped suddenly and moved up, planting a kiss on your shoulder.

"Now let's see your pretty little mouth get to work, hmm?" he growled huskily into your ear.

You whimpered, not sure how to answer, too much in a lust overload, unable to speak or even process any coherent thoughts. Joel could tell you were caught up in the moment, gently guiding you to your knees so you were facing him.

"Come here," he demanded, his voice low and commanding.

Without hesitation, you crawled forward, positioning yourself between Joel's legs as he sat back on the chair. You placed your hands on his thighs as he guided you to kneel before him.

Once you were positioned, Joel bent forward, his hands reaching out to tangle in your hair. He guided your head down towards his lap, and you couldn't help but moan at the sight of his hard length in front of you.

You wrapped your hand around him, feeling the velvety smoothness of his skin over the steel hardness beneath. Joel hissed in pleasure as you began to stroke him, your hand moving up and down his length.

"Open your mouth," Joel commanded, his voice low and husky.

You obeyed, parting your lips and letting him guide himself inside. You could feel him hit the back of your throat, and you struggled to suppress your gag reflex as he began to move in and out of your mouth.

Joel's hands tightened in your hair, pulling slightly as he thrust deeper. You could feel him hitting the back of your throat, and you tried your best to relax and take him in.

You could feel the saliva pooling in your mouth as you sucked him, your hand still moving in time with your mouth. The feeling of him in your mouth, the taste of him on your tongue, it was all so intoxicating. But before you could take him over the edge, Joel's lips met yours in a fiery kiss, his tongue parting your lips and exploring every inch of your mouth. It was a kiss full of passion and desire, a kiss that made your head spin and your heart race.

His hands roamed your body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You moaned as he cupped your breasts, his thumbs teasing your nipples until they were hard and aching for more. Joel broke the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck and across your collarbone. You gasped as his teeth grazed your sensitive skin, sending shivers down your spine.

His hands were everywhere, touching and exploring every inch of your body until you were trembling with need. You couldn't help but whimper as his lips found your nipples, his tongue swirling around them before he sucked them into his mouth. Joel's hands travelled lower, cupping your ass and pulling you closer. You could feel his hard length pressed against you, and you couldn't help but grind against him.

"Please, Joel," you whispered, your voice barely audible. Joel's eyes darkened as he looked at you, his voice low and commanding. "Beg for it. Beg for what you want baby."

You whimpered, your mind hazy with lust as you tried to find the words. "Please, Joel. I need you. I need you inside me." His plan to have you please him orally was quickly forgotten as his overwhelming desire for you took over, he needed to have you. Now. Joel stood up, pulling you to your feet. Joel's grip on your hair tightened as he pulled you to your feet, his eyes blazing with desire. "You want me inside you, baby?" he growled, his voice full of raw need.

"Yes daddy," you whimpered, your body trembling with desire.

"Good girl," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "You're such a good girl, begging for what you want. Say it again.”

"Want you inside me, Joel. Please," you begged, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel's hands travelled down your body, cupping your ass and lifting you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your core pressing against his hard length. "Is this what you want?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

"Yes, please, Joel. I need you," you moaned, your nails digging into his shoulders.

Joel walked over to the bed, laying you down on your back. He hovered over you, his eyes locked on yours as he slowly entered you. You gasped as he filled you, your body stretching to accommodate him.

"You feel so fucking good, baby," Joel murmured, his lips trailing down your neck as he continued to thrust into you. "So tight, so perfect."

"Yes, Daddy," you moaned, your hips meeting his thrust for thrust. "You feel so good inside me."

"Beg for it, baby," Joel commanded, his voice low and dominating. "Beg daddy to make you come."

"Please, Daddy," you begged, your voice trembling with need. "I need to come. Need you to make me come."

Joel's thrusts became harder, faster, his pace matching the desperation in your voice. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your body tense with pleasure.

"Come for me, baby," Joel growled, his voice commanding. "Come for Daddy now."

With one final thrust, you came, your body convulsing with pleasure as you tried to stay quiet.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice full of satisfaction. "You're such a good girl, coming for Daddy like that."

Joel pulled out of you, leaving you feeling empty and wanting. But before you could protest, he flipped you over onto your hands and knees.

"Daddy's going to take you from behind now," he growled, his hand coming down on your ass with a sharp smack.

You couldn't help but moan at the sting, your body tensing with anticipation. Joel positioned himself behind you, his hard length pressing against your entrance.

"You ready for me, baby?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

"Yes, Daddy," you whimpered, your body trembling with need.

With one swift thrust, Joel was inside of you, filling you completely. You couldn't help the way your body trembled with pleasure.

Joel's hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he began to thrust into you. Each movement sent waves of pleasure crashing through your body, your moans and whimpers filling the room.

"You like that, baby?" Joel asked, his voice full of raw need.

"Yes, Daddy. It feels so good," you gasped, your body begging for more.

Joel's thrusts became harder, faster, his pace matching the desperation in your voice. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your body tense with pleasure.

"Come for me again, baby," Joel commanded, his voice low and dominating. "I want to feel you come apart around me." Joel's fingers dug into your hips as he continued to thrust into you, each movement causing you to moan and whimper with pleasure. He could feel your body tensing up once again, your walls clenching around him as you got closer and closer to another orgasm.

"That's it, baby. I want to feel you milking my cock with your tight little pussy," Joel growled, his voice full of raw need and desire.

His words sent you over the edge, your body convulsing with pleasure as you screamed out Joel's name into your own hands, to try to keep quiet. You felt him pulse inside of you, his warm release filling you up as he reached his own climax.

Joel collapsed onto your back, his breath hot and heavy against your neck. He wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you close as he caught his breath.

"Fuck, baby. You’re such a good girl aren't cha?" he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear.

You couldn't help but smile, your body still trembling with aftershocks of pleasure. 

Joel slowly pulled out of you, leaving you feeling empty and wanting once again. But before you could protest, he turned you over onto your back and climbed on top of you.

"I'm not done with you yet, baby," he growled, his eyes blazing with desire.

He captured your lips in a passionate kiss, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth as his hands roamed your body. He trailed his lips down your neck, across your collarbone, and down to your breasts.

He sucked one nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue before moving onto the next. You couldn't help but moan, your body responding to his touch once again.

Joel's hand travelled lower, his fingers finding their way to your clit. He began to rub slow circles around it, causing you to gasp and writhe beneath him.

"Please, Joel. I need more," you begged, your voice trembling with need.

Joel's fingers dipped inside of you, curling up to hit that perfect spot. He began to thrust them in and out of you, his pace matching the urgency in your voice.

You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to another orgasm, your body tensing up as you reached the edge.

"Come on darlin’ I want to feel you come all over my fingers," Joel commanded, his voice dominating.

With one final thrust of his fingers, you shattered and your body convulsed in the same motions it had the last two or three, or - you had lost count at this point.

Joel pulled his fingers out of you, bringing them to his mouth and sucking them clean. You couldn't help but watch him, your body still trembling with aftershocks of pleasure.

"Mmmm, you taste so fucking good, baby," Joel murmured, his eyes blazing with desire.

He collapsed onto the bed next to you, pulling you into his arms and holding you close.

"I think I'm gonna keep ya around," Joel chuckled.

You couldn't help but smile, your body still trembling with pleasure. "I think I'm gonna let you," you whispered back. 

You weren't sure what the future held for the two of you, but in that moment, you were happy. You closed your eyes  as you snuggled closer to Joel, feeling safe and protected in his arms.

Thank you for reading. Take a second to let me know what you thot and I'll send you pictures of my baby cows 🐮🥹

[toruro]

— ✧ the cake in the back

pairing. choi seungcheol x reader

description. cheol is a regular at your bakery, and it's all because his son loves the banana bread you make—at least that's what he tells himself. it also doesn't hurt that you're cute. and polite. and totally someone he'd like to fuck.

genre. smut, fluff

tags. rich dilf cheol, bakery owner reader, or4l (f receiving), car s3x, kitchen s3x, pet names (angel), cr3ampi3, aprons ... hehe

w/c. 3.8k+

a/n. IGNORE THE TITLE OKAY I THOUGHT IT WAS FUNNY. look i know it's corny and i literally am writing this on a whim but happy father's day

"soobin's not with you today?" your voice is cheery and gentle when you greet your regular.

mr. choi smiles and shakes his head. "shocking, i know," he laughs in that deep and velvety tone that has you bouncing up and down on the balls of your feet out of pure giddiness.

"a pleasant surprise," you reply, putting on some gloves as mr. choi approaches the counter. it's near closing, and it's around that time of day where people usually don't come in as much, so you've been alone and just cleaning up the space yourself. "what can i get you, mr. choi?"

the handsome man chuckles, flicking his wrist as he pushes some hair back, the reflective surface of his wrist watch (that you definitely don't want to know the price of because it might just make you pass out) glinting under your bakery's warm lights. "thought i told you to stop calling me that. seungcheol is much better considering ..." he searches for the words for a moment. "... we see each other so regularly," he concludes.

"i've got to maintain some level of professionalism, don't you agree, mr. choi?" you tease. "the regular, i'm assuming? two banana breads?"

"you already know it."

grinning, you nod and pull up a box. "how's soobin? i haven't seen him or you in a while. i'm starting to miss my favorite customer."

"i'm sure soobin would be flattered to hear that. he's doing well, i couldn't bring him today since he's got a swimming class this evening," seungcheol explains, pulling out his wallet that's donned in some brand name that looks so expensive you don't even know how to pronounce it. you move down the counter grab some of the bread which is on your far left, and he walks down on the other side to match you, keeping up the conversation.

"ah yes. he seems to be around that age to start learning. better now than never, honestly. my younger brother didn't learn until he was older and it did not seem easy," you say with a giggle, bringing out the tongs to grab two small loaves.

seungcheol nods in agreement. "that, and i'm planning on taking the two of us on a vacation spot in a few months ... not sure where yet, but soobin's been wanting to go to a beach location for ages," he tells you, and your heart swells.

the image of soobin and seungcheol, goofing around on a beach send a warm feeling through your body. it's also maybe an added plus that there's a flicker in your mind of what seungcheol would look like in nothing but swim trunks, skin shining from the water under the beaming sun, dark hair splayed across his forehead.

you wonder what he's hiding beneath that plain, beige t-shirt of his. his arms are somewhat exposed, and from just the little bit of muscle that peeks out and flexes when he moves around, you think you can safely assume he's got much more going on in the places where your eyes can't reach.

realizing he's still right in front of you, you blink down hard as an attempt to pull yourself back into reality, eyes flickering up at the handsome man in front of you.

"s-sounds fun," you say honestly, packing the bread and handing it to him over the counter. in this moment, seungcheol catches sight of the apron you've got on. it's light pink and hugs your figure so nicely, he can't help but comment on it.

"new apron, huh?"

shyly, you look down and nod. you hadn't expected him to notice. "uh, yeah. my employees got it for me as a birthday gift, actually."

seungcheol furrows his brows as he hands you his card so you can charge him. "it's cute. was your birthday, um, recent?"

you nod casually, tapping at your machine for a second before handing back his card, trying to ignore the way his comment first comment has your stomach flipping and flopping around. "yeah, it was a few days ago."

"i'm sorry, i didn't know," he says sincerely, causing you to frown.

"hey, don't worry about it. it's not something i expect my customers to know and—"

"let me treat you to something," seungcheol says abruptly, cutting you off mid-sentence. he realizes after that it's a bit rude, but something about the way you brush him off as just a customer makes him feel the need to prove you wrong.

"i—i'm sorry?" you ask, and for a moment seungcheol almost mistakes your confusion for apprehension, but then he drinks in the way you look up at him curiously, lips slightly parted, and he relaxes.

"you're closing soon, right? let me ... treat you to something," he repeats. "a coffee or something, if you don't mind."

"oh, i can't possibly impose like that, especially when you've got to pick up soobin and—"

"i wouldn't be offering if you were imposing. he's getting picked up by my friend anyways—his son and soobin are going to have a play date and stuff and—" he's rambling, seungcheol knows that, but he can't seem to care. "basically what i'm saying is you don't have to worry about that. seriously. wait—not that i'm forcing you. you can totally say no, i just ..." he sighs, "don't want you to say no because you think you'll be imposing. 'cause you won't be."

when you smile brightly up at him, eyes glittering and laugh cheery, a wave of relief washes over seungcheol. "i—thank you for the reassurance. i'd love to get coffee, but i do have around twenty more minutes before closing and i still have some stuff i need to clean up and i'm not sure if you—"

"i'll wait." he pauses, then adds, "and help."

you're a bit apprehensive at first—a customer helping you out with closing? but you're quick to learn that once cheol has his mind set on something, it isn't the easiest to pull him away from it—and right now cheol is determined to treat you, as he put it.

the next forty-five minutes is spent with you directing seungcheol around your bakery. he's a surprisingly fast learner and before you know it, all the pastries are loaded in the back, the dishes are cleaned, your floors are swept, and suddenly you find yourself outside of your shop with the doors locked, standing next to seungcheol who watches with you a clouded expression.

"thank you so much for the help," you say bashfully. "you're already taking me—" is it too soon to say he's taking you out? oh well, what's done is done. "—taking me out. isn't this a little too much?" you joke, wiggling your brows.

seungcheol chuckles and shakes his head, pulling his eyes out of his pocket and twirling around the chain around his fingers. fuck, he has really nice fingers—

seungcheol's voice interrupts your thoughts "do you have a car or—"

"i usually take the bus home," you explain, rocking back and forth on your feet. cheol frowns, but doesn't say anything. maybe he can fix that, but that's an thought for another time as he points at his suv, all black from top to bottom, with tinted windows and full black wheels.

there's a silence that envelopes the two of you when you slip into the passenger seat, placing your work bag on the floor. seungcheol is already in the driver's seat, key stuck in but not turning on the engine just yet.

you glance between the sight of your bakery out the window, and back at seungcheol who already has his gaze on you.

"you're going to have to be transparent with me for a second," seungcheol says seriously, locking eyes with you as you shift your body to face him. "and i want to make sure we're on the same page about ..." about whatever is going to go down.

you bite down on your lip, and even though cheol knows you're doing it absentmindedly, he can't help but feel his pants grow tighter at the way it puffs up when your teeth release it.

"i ... i think you know we're on the same page," you reply shyly, shifting a little in your seat to try and make up for the silence.

"you want this?" cheol clarifies, one eyebrow cocked up.

a feeling of pride swelters in his chest when you reply without hesitation, "i do." and then a bit more quietly, you add, "i, uh, have for a while."

now cheol usually likes to tread lightly; he doesn't want to mess around and is great at keeping his dick in his pants but there's just something about the way you look at him so cutely.

you look at him like you know all the nasty things he wants to do to you, and you bat your eyelashes like you don't care—like you'd let him. like you'd take every damn thing he gives you without a single word of complaint, and it's driving him crazy.

again, cheol is great at keeping his foot on the brake, but then you swipe your tongue over your bottom lip and suddenly he's slamming his feet on the accelerator.

wrapping one hand around your neck, he pulls you to smash his lips onto yours. it's a gentle kiss—tentative, as if you're both testing the waters. pressing against each other as your faces tilt, your hands find purchase in his hair when cheol laps at your bottom lip. that's where it all takes off.

the kiss turns from innocent and sweet to sloppy and fast within a matter of moments and suddenly you're grappling at his arms, his hands are searching for your tits, gripping at the flesh and before you know it, you're being thrown to the back.

seungcheol nearly slams your back down onto the seats, your loose shirt riding up your stomach in the process to reveal the lower half of your bra. "fuck," he mutters, low and under his breath in that raspy sort of way that has your clothes feeling too hot and your cunt too empty.

"seungcheol," you moan, unbuttoning your work pants and shoving them off your legs, along with your panties in one go, leaving your wet cunt open and bare. he doesn't take a moment to shuffle back and bring his face down to be level with your core, eyes looking up at you with some kind of mischievous glint that has your stomach churning.

with a bit of hesitance, he places a soft kiss over your clit, watching you carefully to see how you react. when you whine and arch your back against the leather seats, he figures that that reaction is good enough, and this time lets his tongue out, swiping it against the throbbing bad.

"sweet," he murmurs, lips moving down against your folds. the movement and vibrations send sparks through your core and up your spine, and you shudder at the feeling as one hand flies down to grip at his dark hair. "so fuckin' sweet," he repeats before diving his tongue back, swiping it up and down between your folds.

"ah-h-h, seungcheol—fuck," you whimper when he presses the wet muscle flat against your drooling hole, continue to circle around and tease you. fervently, cheol—to put it bluntly—makes out with your cunt. digging his face in between your legs, his nose brushes against your clit when he adjusts his neck to lap and suck against unexplored areas, leaving you mewling into your arm as you try and sit still for him.

there isn't much room in the back, and to be frank, your limbs are in an uncomfy position, and you can only imagine the strain cheol is feeling, bent over and legs in an awkward position when he holds your hips and pulls you closer so he can smother himself in your pussy. he doesn't seem to mind though, lifting his head every few moments to grin up at you with hazy eyes, glossy lips, and a drenched chin, off-handedly commenting something dirty about how nice you taste, how he could live between your legs, how you're driving him fucking insane.

it's the meticulous flicks of his tongue, the deep and guttural words that escape his honeyed lips, and the girth of his fingers when he finally plunges them into your warm cunt that bring you to your edge. it only takes a few rubs and curls against your aching walls before your shaking, crying out his name as you thrust upwards, holding his face down so you can grind against him.

and he whispers the words, "cum angel," so sweetly—a complete contrast to the way his tongue is scooping up all your arousal—and so you cum like you never have before.

fuck my life, you think to yourself as the waves of your orgasm finally hit you. cheol rides you through the high, and he does it good. so good, you're left breathless when he pulls away from your cunt with a dopey smile and feather light kisses all up your thigh and stomach, and then finally your lips.

"my place?" he asks, stroking your cheek gingerly as you blink up at him. and when you nod hazily, he pats you lightly, helping you back to the passenger seat before helping you slip on your panties and pants back on. this time, when cheol gets back into the driver's seat, he places one hand on the steering wheel, the other secure over your still quivering thigh. "relax angel," he murmurs, and you can't help but burn at the gentle words. this can't be the same man who ate you out like you were damn piece of cake just moments earlier.

the drive is quiet, but not uncomfortable. if anything, you're fucking enthralled. when he stops at a red light, cheol looks over at you and when your eyes meet you can't help but giggle together until you're cheeky, grinning mess by the time you pull up to his house.

parking in the lavish drive way, cheol tells you to hold on for a second, getting out of the car and making his way to your side, to open the door for you.

"i didn't know that this what you meant by coffee," you giggle, stumbling out next to him and letting him wrap an arm around your waist to help you up the steps to his house. it's a beautiful estate, really, but you aren't too focused on admiring the luxury right now—you're much more interested in what's to come between you and cheol.

and you're about to find out soon enough because as soon as he opens the door, lets you in, and closes it behind you, cheol's hands are all over you. with your eyes closed as you two engage in a hot mess of tongue and teeth and lips, your rocking back and forth in his arms, his legs leading to you to some place you're not really aware of until you feel something hard and cool press against your lower back.

"wear the apron," cheol tells you firmly when he pulls away, pressing you against his cold stone counter. you knit your eyebrows together in confusion, but let your bag that's still on your shoulder drop onto the counter, taking out your apron without hesitation.

it's now that you realize you're in his kitchen. if you weren't in such a ... intimate setting, you would have admired the design, the appliances—all of it. perhaps you'd even wonder what it's like to bake in here, cooking up soobin's favorite banana bread with cheol by your side and—you save those thoughts for another time.

"w-why?" you murmur in response to cheol's request, as you pull the apron out, pulling the pink strap over your head, tying it behind your back as the ache between your legs begins to creep up on you again. cheol's big hands find purchase on your hips again, holding down you down with a firm grip as he turns you around and pushes your back down.

"'cause," he grunts out, and you nearly moan when you hear the sound of his belt unbuckling and fabric rustling as he shoves his pants and boxers down. it hardly takes a second before his hands are at the hem of your own pants, yanking them down and giving you a moment so you can step out of them.

you wiggle your ass around for a second, turning to look back at cheol with pleading eyes and ask him to just fuck you already, but then he locks a hand under your jaw, cupping the underside of your face and pulling it up so your back arches into his touch. you can feel the angry, hard head of his cock prodding against the plush of your ass and the feeling of him brush against you has you whining.

"patience, angel," he coos, pressing his face next to the shell of your ear and placing a soft kiss on the crown of your head before easing his way through your folds. you can't even see him but you just know he's big—fat length rubbing up and down your folds as he coats himself in your arousal as you whisper incoherent pleas for more.

"cheolie ..." the nickname slips from your lips with out as much as a brainless thought but it has cheol's head rewiring.

"fuck, say that again," he demands, snaking the hand that's not holding your face down your back until it's gripping the cute little bow of your apron.

you hum as you feel him tugging at the fabric, jerking your body backwards and pushing your cunt harder against him, the fat tip brushing against your sensitive clit. "cheolie!" you mewl again, and you're really not expecting the way he jams his cock into you in one go. not that you're complaining of course.

'cause how could you complain when he's stretching you out so nicely? when his cock is so long it's already hitting kissing your cervix and hitting spots inside of you that you didn't even think were possible to reach? when he's so deep that his balls are pressed against your burning core and his pelvis is flush against your ass?

"you feel so good," cheol moans, and you squeeze around him even tighter when you hear the low, gruff words escape his lips. "this pussy was made for me, huh?" he breathes out with a chuckle, as he pulls out halfway before pulling the strings of the apron so your core meets him halfway, slamming his cock back into you.

"oh god," you moan loudly, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you try and swivel your hips against his for some added stimulation.

"gonna think abt this every time you wear this, won't you?" cheol grunts, twisting his fingers around the bow in the back so he hold onto it tighter.

the thought runs through your fucked out mind for a moment; you're gonna have to walk into work tomorrow, and if you're wearing the apron, you'll have to sit through the day knowing that you had cheol's cock buried inside of you under this same fabric—if you aren't wearing it, you'll have to come up with an excuse for your lovely employees as to why you're not wearing their precious gift.

which option you're going to go with, though, is swept from your mind when cheol sticks a finger into your mouth and presses down on your tongue as he fucks into you harder.

what a moment, you think. getting railed on the counter of a man who you always thought was out of reach. your insides feel like jelly as his fat cock runs against your walls, veins and curves pressing and dragging through you as heat envelopes you.

and as his thrusts increase in force, you start to realize that cheol is nothing if he is not relentless. just when you think you've whimpered his name so much you think you might lose your voice, he's ramming into you harder, punching the air right out of your lungs as broken moans and squeaks that have him losing his damn mind.

"what a fuckin' angel, creaming me cock so well," he praises, yanking you back and forth at an unforgiving pace to match his calculated thrusts. you feel like you're being thrown around in the best way possible, body throttling every time his hips crash against your ass and cause you to lurch forward and arch your back even more.

and as he goes on, the rub of his cock against you, the press of his balls against your clit, his hand in your mouth and pressing against your jaw—it's all so much and so fast and so good until you're shaking and thrashing in his hold.

"mmf—cheolie, wan' cum," you choke out when you feel his cock twitch inside of you.

"yeah? my pretty angel's gon' cum on my cock?"

"yeah-huh," you answer dazedly, body jerking back and forth as his hips snap more haphazardly now, but still hitting that one sweet spot that has your vision going bleary. "can i cum, cheolie?"

and you ask him so fucking sweetly, he can't hold it in anymore, dazedly grunting out something along the lines of, "yeah, angel, cum f'me," before he spills his hot seed inside of you. the sensation of his cum painting your walls white is the final thing you need before joining cheol with your own orgasm, clenching around him so tightly that it has him gripping down on your hips in a way that you know you'll have bruises tomorrow. not that you mind.

how could you, when you just had the most mind blowing orgasm of your life with the hottest guy you've ever met. as you twitch against him, cheol finally pulls himself out and you whimper lowly at the feeling of being empty even though you know you'd probably pass out if you had his dick in you any longer.

gently, cheol strokes your back and caresses the taught muscles, untying the apron that quite literally had you in a chokehold, letting it fall from your figure. "'m sorry," he murmurs into your neck, placing a soft kiss on your shoulder, "was i too rough?"

"n-no," you say, face burning when you realize just how croaky and fucked your voice has become. cheol only laughs at you as you dig your face into your hands as you mumble bashfully, "it was ... great." you're slightly embarrassed, yes, but when you catch the look of endearment on cheol's face, you start to think twice.

as you both attempt to even out your breaths, cheol looks down at you panting against the counter, cum spilling out of your fluttering folds. vaguely, he wonders what you'll look like in a bikini in the bahamas. huh, he thinks, maybe he'll have to ask soobin if it's okay to bring an extra certain someone with them on their vacation this summer.

a/n. how i managed to get this out in one day i don't know. the cheol effect i guess. anyways, hope u enjoyed!

tags. @xcynthiaaa @synthetickitsune @leejihoonownsmyheart @dahliatopia @gyuswhore @hoeforcheol @5xiang @hajimelvr @miriamxsworld @blinkjunhui @lixiel0ver @josefines-things @mimisxs @kawennote09 @bbyjjunie @rubyreduji @marzmeltdown @todorokiskitten (strikethrough could not be tagged)

[roturo]

Written All Over Your Face dick grayson x reader

→ summary: “Well, you know what they say, Love and Hate are two sides of a very, very thin line. For what I can see, you have a pent up sexual frustration written all over your face Dick.”

→ warnings: SMUT. p in v, unprotected sex (don't be dumb and wrap it), enemies to lovers, heroe!reader, breeding kink, bulge kink ¿?, not proof-read, possessive behavior, begging...

words: 2k

TUMBLR IS BASED ON A REBLOG SYSTEM. PLEASE REBLOG MY WORK. THANK YOU. ENJOY. SMUT BELOW THE CUT.

Being a heroe wasn't easy. Neither being considered a competition for Nightwing. The Ex-Robin. The Dick Grayson.

Both being ¨super-heroes¨ with no powers brought many controversial articles between you two, not only at the Gotham-Batman times, but also now at the new Titans times.

You never thought seeing him again and his boyish smile and attitude. No wonder why he has many girls falling for him, not only as Nightwing, but also as his real identity. But this rough times between the heroes, made the destiny bringing you together again.

Both of you had mutual friends, and when Dawn invited you to meet the new Titans, and asked you for help to train them, you never thought of seeing him again, neither of both of you training teenage kids how to become high quality-trained super heroes.

¨Sorry.¨ Were the last words you heard from Dawn, when she left you with bird boy at the training room, giving you an apologetic smile.

God bless her natural charm and being the trusting friend she is because you couldn't hit her face right now with the rage you're feeling.

¨Hi!¨ A green-haired boy said to you, he had the same, maybe not as pretty, boyish smile like Grayson. ¨Hello...?¨

¨Gar.¨ He told you, not putting down the smile.

With just a nod and a not so happy smile, your eyes moved into a purple-haired girl, who just smiled at you and said her name. ¨Rachel.¨ She hit the boy next to her with her elbow, murmuring his name.

¨Jason.¨ He said, ¨Is this your girlfriend Dick? Because she's pretty good looking for a guy like you. But yeah, what she's doing here anyways?¨

Oh. Yeah. Bird boy. He's here.

¨Yeah Grayson, what’s going on?¨ Completely ignoring the fact Dick was about to answer Jason’s question with furrowed brows and you obviously knowing why you're here since Dawn explained you. ¨And no, i'm not his girlfriend.¨ You looked at Jason with a smile which changed into a fake smile when your eyes returned to Dick. ¨He wishes.¨ You said, your head turning to the side, obviously trying to make him angry. At which he only scoffed, knowing you well enough to know what you were trying. ¨Yeah number two, maybe we can just pass at me explaining you why you´re here.¨

Number two? He WISHES.

¨I know why am I here. I don´t know if your little brain remembers you made Dawn bring me here to help you train this kids.¨ You got closer to him, not breaking eye contact. ¨And number two? pfft, If you were number one, maybe you wouldn't have been replaced by new Robin here.¨

That got him exactly where you wanted him. He might seem like a strong and rough guy, but behind all that image of big boy, there’s nothing else but trauma.

You couldn’t help but notice how his jaw clenched at the small giggle Jason let when you mentioned Dick being replaced. Side-eyeing him, Jason stopped. Dick sighed trying to calm himself down.

“First. I didn’t know Dawn brought you here, she just told me about bringing the perfect person to help me train them, I was not expecting you.” You could tell he was still angry at the remark, so he wanted to correct you. “Second. I didn’t got replaced. I left Wayne by choice of mine.”

“And third. I’m not longer Robin.”

It got into a really tense vibe between you and Dick trying to kill each-other with just your eyes, everyone in silence, clearly uncomfortable at this new encounter.

“Can both of you stop eye-fucking eachother and can we finally start the training?” Jason said, trying to bring both of you back to earth.

That clearly caught both of your attention to what Jason said, clearly annoyed at the wrong remark of how both of you were looking at each-other. “We’re not “eye-fucking” each-other Jason, stop getting into other’s people conversations.” With that, Dick started grabbing everything for the training of today, moving on. Jason just raised his arms at the air, (like when they’re showing they’re not armed), with a small smirk on his face.

“Well, you know what they say, Love and Hate are two sides of a very, very thin line. For what I can see, you have a pent up sexual frustration written all over your face Dick.”

That brought a hard, and big laugh to your face, how could Jason say that? This kids don’t even respect their “leader” This was going to be a funny training.

After what seemed like 1 hour of training, and getting to know the kids, you could get which were the flaws and weaknesses. Maybe you couldn’t understand quite well Rachel’s powers, but some time will do it.

You asked Gar where you could sleep the night, since it was already getting late and your most likely staying some days here, you'll also need some extra clothes at least for today.

Gar told you to stay in the spare room next's to Dick's, great, what a nice neighbor you have. He also gave you some clothes you could use tonight, tomorrow you could go back to your place and get some clothes, your skincare.... and I guess your super-hero suit.

When going out of the bathroom after a long shower (which you deserved), Dick was standing there, shirtless, all sweaty, and just with some grey sweatpants on... he looks.... nice, yeah. Obviously annoyed but when he saw you, his face turned into... panic?

He doesn't know what's happening to him right now, might be stress he needs to get relieved, yeah, sure, that's the reason he feels his pants getting tighter every-second he keeps looking at you right now.

¨Are you okay bird-boy why´re you just static over here, I know you have problems, but this a new one.¨ You looked up and down at Dick's figure, obviously checking him out, not like he needs to find out, noticing he´s quite handsome, not like you would tell him also, he's hot, and he knows it.

¨That´s... That´s my shirt¨ Was all that Dick could say, well, shit.

You knew the t-shirt had a distinct laundry soap scent which remind you of someone, and maybe a pint of perfume, but who could blame you?! Might be Gar's or Jason's!

¨And those... are my boxers.¨ double shit.

You could see he was obviously blushed and you're sure you are too, but what a coincide. It's like you could hear Rachel, Gar and Jason's laughing at the both of you.

¨Well... do want me to give them back at you?¨ You broke the tense silence, trying to take your, his, shirt-off, completely forgetting you're in front of him, you needed to find a way out of here.

¨No, no, no, stop! Leave it there, then you give it back to me.¨ He assured you, grabbing your hands and pulling them down with your, his? t-shirt. ¨And it looks better on you anyways.¨ That's all he said before speed entering to the bath-room.

¨Hey Dick!, Wait.¨ To say you couldn't feel the wetness of your pussy going out and asking for some relief, would be considered a crime. ¨What do you ne-¨ You cut him off by entering the bath-room closing the door in the process, both of your lips connecting in a perfect symphony like they were made for each-other. He left a sudden whine at the loss of the soft touch of your lips.

¨Oh.¨ Was all he could say, you don't understand what happened to you, it wasn't definitely a normal behavior between you two. ¨Oh my god. I'm so sorry Dick, I don't know what happened to me, i'm-¨ You couldn't finish the last sentence when you felt his lips in yous again. A little hesitant this time, he stops, unsure of his actions, but he lose it all. ¨Do it again.¨

That's all he needed to continue kissing you, hands caressing you neck, positioning them as a chocking posture, later going to trace your jaw as he continues kissing you.

He started giving you kisses trailing down your chin, making you moan at the specific spot that made your legs shake, he started leaving love bites between your chest, later going down on you, pulling your t-shirt upwards, getting between your breasts and marking them as his.

¨Please Dick... Please make me feel good.¨ It´s like something got into him when his hands started roaming your body like crazy, pulling your shirt off, your hand reaching his sweatpants, and later his cock, noticing he has no underwear under neat it. ¨It's like you were ready for this bird-boy, ah!-¨ Even when you try to tease him, he finds a way to tease you back even in a better way, his fingers playing with your nipple had you giddy and trembling. ¨Be a good girl if you want me to fuck you.¨

All you could do is nod and start stroking his hard cock, already leaking pre-cum which made the stroking easier, playing with the head had him as a moaning mess.

“Fuck, wait — shit. Mm— fuck. Wh-where did you learn to do that?” He left a whiny moan at the lose of your touch.

“Well, the noises you make are a pretty good indication of how you like it.” He man-handled you, turning you around, making you see yourself at the mirror.

“…God you sound so fucking cocky right now and it’s turning me on even more.”  He ripped apart the boxers you were wearing. ¨Don't worry, I have plenty more.¨ Fuck him and his fucking pretty smile.

With no more waiting, he positioned himself, and started thrusting into you. He fits just right, and could touch all the places you couldn't reach.

“Let me know if I’m doing anything wrong, okay? I want to make you feel as good as possible.” Even when he's fucking your brains out, he finds a way to be that kind and nice guy he is.

“O-Okay.”  Was all you could tell him, before & after some moans and whines from both of you, one specific thrust had you seeing stars.

His hand lingered down your tummy and he moaned at the bump he could feel, when he was going in and out with his thrusts. ¨Oh baby, I'm going to make you mine, fill you up.¨

He started playing with your clit, it had you crazy all the feelings of his body, his thrusts, him.

¨´You´re so good for me, all for me... 'm gonna' fill you up with my babies, 'm gonna make you a mommy, full of my cum every-day just to make sure.¨

That was all you needed to cum, with just some last thrusts he came inside you too, fulfilling his promise of keeping you full of his cum. He waited for you to calm down, before he inserted two of his fingers, recollecting the cum that was falling out your hole, inserting it inside you again, making you moan at the sudden intrusion.

He got the tub ready, and got you inside it, in front of him while he cleaned your sore body while kissing it.

¨I can't believe it took me all this years to realize how I feel about you.¨ Your heart was anxious at how your confession would be received.

¨Doesn't take an idiot to figure out. You couldn't tell I was and I am in love with you because you were too busy trying to beat all that rivalry. I was in love the moment you kicked my ass for the first time.¨

You chuckled at the confession, and laid your head on his shoulder where you could see his dumb smirk. ¨You have that stupid smirk on your face again, can't you have a serious conversation with me?, can we fight again?¨

He laughed at your comment ¨Not a possible thing for me when you look this cute all marked by me and confessing your feelings for me.¨ The small pecks he started leaving on your neck and back had you giggling.

¨I love you.¨

¨I love you too, bird-boy.¨

[hannieehaee]

hi there, gorgeous! i love your writings so much you have no idea </3 i was just curious, do you have any thoughts on sub!minghao? i think you would write him so well ugh ;(

18+ / mdi

content: sub!minghao, afab reader, smut, he's a mess<3, softdom!reader, bondage, handjob, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 1023

a/n: omg HI THANKUU I LOVE UR WRITING<3 tysm for requesting!!! <333

masterlist

"p-please ... just ... it's too much, i- i need, i-, just please ..."

it had taken a few hours to get to this point. long, excruciating, breath-taking hours.

this wasn't an usual occurrence. with minghao's busy schedule, it was rare to have the extensive time it took to get minghao to this level of sheer desperation.

it was saved for special occasions. sometimes minghao would come home utterly exhausted, holding onto you the moment he arrived and burying his face into your neck, kissing his way to your ear as he asked you to please take care of him. to please take away all the exhaustion he felt and replace it with pleasure only you knew how to give him.

and so here you were, with a sweaty and spent minghao with both hands tied up to both ends of the headboard.

it was difficult for you to control yourself when minghao acted like this, when he gave himself to you so easily. so you didn't control yourself. you touched and kissed and licked and loved him in every way you could.

it began with a few heavy kisses against his lips as you walked him back into your room. he was limp against you, letting you have full control as his lips pathetically followed your own.

it continued in the bedroom, as you pushed him onto the end, undressing him in the process. you then sat on him, kissing him again and again until he begged you to finally touch him. ignoring him, you commandeered him, getting him against the headboard and tying him up with handcuffs you kept for these special occasions.

your hands wandered all through his body after that, tweaking at his nipples and running your hands down to where he wanted them most. you'd touch him near completion, only to never give him the satisfaction of finding his high.

after hours of that, you were here. minghao was completely spent, a few lone tears gathering at the corner of his eyes as he begged you to please touch him again.

"i can't, just ... need you. now ... please? i- i'll do anything ..." he barely managed to get out as your mouth traveled from his lips to his nipples, licking at them yet again, occasionally nibbling at them to get a breathy gasp out of him.

you were sitting on his lap, only donning a pair of sleeping shorts and a lone tank top that gave minghao the perfect view of your cleavage. through your thin shorts, you could feel the immense hardness under you, lying completely ignored between your bodies.

making your way back up to his lips, you snuck a hand between you, finally grabbing onto his cock again, pumping it torturously slowly.

"wanna cum like this, pretty?", you asked against his lips.

his mouth was constantly letting out little huffs of pleasure, making it hard to actually kiss him, so you often opted to lick into his mouth and suck on his tongue, causing his eyes to roll back.

"n-no! want you. you, please! cunt ... need your cunt. please?", he babbled in murmurs, hands pulling at the restraints.

you finally took pity on him. it had been about four? no, five times that you'd jerked him off almost to completion by now. along with the prolonged foreplay you made him take part in. the poor boy was the image of desperation by now. his usual eloquent words were replaced by mumbles of nonsensical pleas.

throwing off your shirt and shaking off your shorts, you decided to tease him one last time, fondling your breasts with breathy moans to get a reaction out of him. he groaned at the sight, furrowed eyebrows and a look of frustration taking over his face as he whined at you to please sit on him.

needing no prep after the extraneous hours of watching your pretty boyfriend lose himself in your touch, you gave him what he had been begging for all this time and sat on his weeping cock, letting out a long whine at the stretch.

his eyes rolled back and his body shuddered with such intensity you were worried for a second. the veins on his arms popped out as he used all his strength to try and pull at his restraints. he was beyond desperate to fuck you by then. unlike other times in which he'd sit and let you ride him as he cried for you, he planted his feet on the bed, canting his hips upwards as hard and fast as he could.

taking the challenge, you began riding him harsher, taking turns between grinding and bouncing on him to give him the utmost pleasure. your hand then came to scratch at his chest, knowing it was beyond sensitive after the many love bites you'd left on it.

"'m not gonna last. it's so- it's so good, fuck! need more ... please, need- need to cum."

"with me? cum with me, pretty. so pretty when you cum. so good for me, baby. such- fuck .. such a good boy," you let out between moans, losing all rhythm as you simply chased your highs.

the pretty boy under you let out one last scream, shutting his eyes as his orgasm took over. a few tears streamed down his reddened face, adding to just how pretty and needy he looked. you buried your face in his neck soon after, letting your orgasm take you on your high with him.

your orgasms were full of high-pitched whines as neither of you halted in your movements, still messily humping against each other. somehow you became just as needy as him, crying against his skin up until your high ran out.

with the little energy you had left, you reached up to undo his handcuffs, falling into him yet again. his limp arms immediately wrapped around you, making you as small as possible in his arms.

"was i too much?" you asked against his skin after catching your breath.

"that was perfect. really needed that," he chuckled, kissing the nearest part of you he could with a sweet peck.

"love you, hao."

"love you more."

[pg87mertenz]

i gave the calientes a makeover because seeing the inaccurate sims in game makes me itch. also don just for funzies. based obviously on their sims 2 counterparts.

[azrielsdove]

Hello :) Can I ask for a Cassian x f!reader angst? One where, from the moment they meet, S/n really likes him and tries to get his attention, but all she gets is a Cassian who is stiff and cold with her and fun with the others, and yet she somehow keeps going after him. Then he notices her, but she gives up for a while and now it's up to him to pursue her.

Never Enough: Cassian x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Suggestive, 18+

***

The General never showed any interest in you, despite your numerous attempts to capture his attention. You trained as hard as possible to try to get any word of praise from him, becoming one of the most deadly high fae in the Night Court. You laughed at all his jokes, agreed to all his ideas, and supported any plan he put out.

All so he could mostly ignore you.

If you got lucky enough he may look at you. Not kindly, really. Usually just a sharp glare or a blank stare. You were embarrassed by how badly you wanted him to like you when he so clearly didn’t. You spent many nights drinking with Rhys, complaining about his brother.

“I don’t understand it. I’ve done nothing to him. Nothing! Why does he hate me?” You grumbled, tipping a shot back as your friend laughed.

“As i’ve said a thousand times, he doesn’t hate you. I think he’s just not used to someone being better than him at everything.” Rhys teased, pouring you another one.

“That’s ridiculous! I am not better at him in anything. And besides, if that’s his problem he has some things to work on.” You rolled your eyes, welcoming the burning feeling of the alcohol going down your throat.

“I think he’s intimidated by you. You are funnier, sneakier, and way more beautiful than he is.” You glared at the High Lord, struggling to not roll your eyes again. You plucked the bottle from his hands, abandoning your glass.

“I’m serious, Rhys.” You said, voice a little somber. “Why am I not good enough for him? I wish I could just let it go.” You stared down at the bottle in your hands, swirling the liquid slowly.

“Hey, no,” your friend replied, coming to sit next to you. “He’s a fool if he doesn’t realize what’s in front of him. What if you step back for a little, let him realize what he’s missing without your constant presence.” You nodded, willing to try anything at this point. Even if he isn’t interested, maybe backing away will allow your heart to call for someone else.

***

CASSIAN POV

He didn’t even realize he was waiting for her to show up until Azriel asked where she was. “How am I supposed to know? I’m not her keeper.” Cassian had answered gruffly, annoyed at her tardiness. He started warming up, sparring with his brother to get his blood flowing. They made it through the whole training session, and still she never showed up.

Cassian tried to pretend he didn’t care. It wasn’t his problem that she seems to have given up on training. She must think she’s too good for us now he thought, ignoring the small bit of worry creeping up in him. It was most unlike her to miss a training session.

It was then that she came strolling into the ring. Cassian looked at her, prepared to nag her for skipping out on training. He lost all train of thought as he took in how she looked in the Illyrian fighting leathers she donned. She had never worn them before, opting for simple athletic attire instead. No doubt another way to piss him off. The leather was tight on her thighs and chest, moving with each step she took. Her hair was pulled back into a simple braid that made Cassian wonder how it would feel to have it wrapped around his hand, tugging her head back as he pushed into her from behind.

He shook his head at that last image. No, he cursed himself, She’s untouchable. He watched as Rhys joined her in his matching leathers, the two of them dangerous together. She has decided to train with him now? Cassian pushed down the spurt of jealousy that ran through him, knowing Rhys didn’t know. How could he? Cassian prided himself on not reacting around her, on not exposing how desperately he wanted to bury himself between those thighs. She was not his to have, as he reminded himself constantly.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Cassian asked, gesturing between the two of them. He ignored the way Rhys’ hands were tightening the straps around her chest, fingers brushing the skin Cassian so desperately craved. His brother looked at him curiously, stepping away from her.

“We are training magic today. She asked for my help. Is that going to be a problem, General?” Rhys inquired, standing tall against his brother.

Cassian shook his head, placing his weapons back in their place. “Not at all.” He said curtly, before turning and leaving the ring.

***

The sudden change in her bothered Cassian for the next few days. She no longer laughed at his jokes or tried to get his attention, instead acting rather indifferently to him. He supposed he couldn’t be too upset, as this was how he had been treating her since they met. It was only deserved that she now threw it back at him.

He sipped a whiskey and watched her laugh and talk to Rhys, noticing the way his hand rested on her thigh. He hated the disgusted feeling that bubbled through him. No one should get to touch her like that but him. Cassian’s hand clenched on the glass as he saw her lean ever closer to his brother, whispering into his ear.

He wanted to stop them. He wanted to barge over there, pull her off of Rhys and kiss her until she couldn’t breathe. He wanted to show everyone that she was made for him, and only him. Instead he took a deep breath, taking a long drink from his glass.

No one could know. Cassian saw the way his brother had looked at her from the day they all met. He refused to take away any chance Rhys had at love, knowing that no one deserved it more than he did.

Even if it meant he gave him his mate.

***

“Cass,” Rhys called, looking for the General after dinner. Cassian poked his head out of his room, gesturing for his brother to come in. “Are you okay?”

He stilled at the question, unsure how to answer. He wanted to be honest with his brother, but he was too scared to upset him. “Yea, why?” Cassian finally said, clearing his throat.

Rhys leaned against the General’s desk, crossing his arms with a sly smile on his face. “You do like her.”

“What are you talking about?” Cassian shot out far too quickly, knowing he was failing to hide his ever-growing emotions.

Rhys laughed. “Oh brother, I had a sneaking suspicion you did. Why have you been so cold to her then?” His question was earnest, his eyes bright.

Cassian was confused. “I- Well. Don’t you like her?” He asked dumbly, mind struggling to handle this new information.

“Me? No, Cass. She is just my friend. Is that why you haven’t been going after her?” Rhys seemed stunned by this realization, arms uncrossing as he stepped towards Cassian.

He felt stupid. Idiotic. This whole time he had been reading their friendship as something more. “Well, yea Rhys.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve wanted her since the day I saw her. I just assumed she was with you, and I didn’t want to interrupt that.” Saying it out loud, Cassian realized how ridiculous he had been acting.

Rhys placed a hand on his arm, squeezing reassuringly. “It’s not too late,” he said gently, “but it won’t be easy. I’ve spent far too many nights drying up her tears over you.”

The sentence felt like a stab in Cassian’s heart, a deep disappointment in himself. “Oh,” was all he said, too upset with himself to continue this discussion.

“Don’t give up, brother. Let me know if you need any help.” Rhys finished, giving his arm one last squeeze as he departed the room, leaving Cassian to figure out how to fix the mess he had created.

***

READER POV

You were reading on the balcony when you felt a presence behind you. You turned, surprised to see Cassian there. “Hello,” you greeted, turning back to your book. You were still hurt by how he constantly acted around you, tired of putting up with it.

“Hi,” he said, almost shyly. He took the lounger next to you, sitting on it sideways so he faced you. “What are you reading?”

You looked at him sideways, confused by his question. “And you care, why?” You asked back, eyes returning to the book in front of you.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, looking down at the ground. “I just, uh, am trying to get to know you a little better.”

You sighed, placing the bookmark in your book and looking towards him. “No offense, General, but I really do not care to get to know you right now. So please, either be quiet or leave.” You felt a little guilty as you saw the crestfallen expression on his face, but a year of treating you like shit wouldn’t be forgotten because he suddenly ‘wanted to know you’.

You picked your book back up, pretending you didn’t notice the way his footsteps fell a little too hard as he left.

***

A few days later Cassian tried again, coming up to the training ring while you were with Rhys. You were too focused on controlling your power to notice him watching you. You breathed in, allowing the power radiating from you to wash over the ring. It was then that you sensed him.

You pulled a dagger from your belt, swiftly turning and pinning him against the edge with your blade on his neck. Your power slunk back into you, vision returning to normal as you realized it was Cassian under your hold. You couldn’t hide the small smile at the sight of him, eyes wide and at your mercy. “Spying on me, General?” You asked sweetly, pressing the dagger in slightly harder.

“N-No!” He gasped out, hands raised in surrender. You slowly removed your blade, stepping back from him. “I was wondering if you wanted to weapons train, that’s all.”

You pondered his answer, ignoring Rhys’ attempt to get inside your mind. “Fine,” you said, placing your dagger back into your belt. “I could use a good sweat.” You didn’t miss Cassian’s flush at your words.

You walked over to Rhys, shaking your head at him. “Stay out of my mind, High Lord.” You whispered, not enjoying the laugh that came from him. He grabbed your arm, tugging you close so he could whisper to you.

“Go easy on him. He’s not what you think.” You sent him a glare, mouth open.

“He was the one acting like a jerk until recently! Why am I expected to get over that because he’s been a bit nicer recently.” You shot out, annoyed at your friend.

“That’s not what i’m saying! There’s more to how he acted than just him being rude.” He gave you his charming smile and clapped your arm. “Now go train, lady!”

You rolled your eyes at your friend, sticking your tongue out in a very un-ladylike way as you made your way over to Cassian. He tossed you a sword that you caught deftly, twirling it around in your hand. As much as you loved learning how to control your magic, nothing compared to holding a deadly weapon in your hand. You prepped into a fighting stance, eyeing the male in front of you.

“Give me all you got, General.”

You shouldn’t have been surprised when he did. He swung at you, moving so quick the blade was but a flash in the sky. You dodged it in the nick of time, heart beating rapidly. This was the challenge you needed. You swung back at him, his sword coming up to clash against yours. The two of your carried on, every move becoming harder and deadlier.

You pushed your anger into fighting him, blocking everything he threw your way. You made a vicious swipe, coming close to slicing his arm. He rolled out of the way, countering with his own. The blade nicked the skin on your wrist, frustration coursing through you. You needed to win.

You pulled your blade back, placing the sword into its home on the edge of the ring. You turned, unnerved to see Cassian still kneeling in the sand. He had sunk down onto his legs, his head bowed to the ground. You hated the spark of worry that shot through you. You had never seen him so small.

You walked over to him, sliding down to your knees as well. “Hey, Cass, I didn’t mean it.” You said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. It took everything in you not to jump back in shock when he looked up at you, tears streaming down his face.

“I’m sorry.” He said hoarsely, more tears coming. “I’m so, so sorry.” You instinctively pulled him into a hug, wrapping your arms tight around him. You had no idea why he was apologizing to you.

“For what? I was just teasing Cass, theres no hard feelings.” You soothed, running a hand through his hair.

The action only made him cry harder.

“I was so needlessly mean to you for no reason. I pushed you away and made you hate me. I wish I could take it all back.” He sobbed out. The words made you pull away and lean back to look at him.

“I don’t hate you.” You murmured, reaching up to cup his face in your hands. You brushed your fingers over his wet cheeks, wiping away the falling tears. “I could never hate you.”

His eyes searched yours, trying to find the truth in them. “I was horrible to you when you were only ever kind to me. I thought-“ he cut himself off, eyes casting downwards in embarrassment.

“You thought what?” You pried, running your thumbs over his cheeks again.

“I thought you were with Rhysand. I didn’t want to get in the way, so I tried to keep my feelings hidden. The only way I knew how was to push you away.” His words were quiet, ashamed.

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of you. “Me and Rhys? No, Cass, no! He’s just a friend.” You took a moment to process his words. “Your feelings?”

His eyes shot back up to yours, pupils blown and tears gone. “The second I saw you I knew I had to have you. I stayed away for his sake, only to find out how terribly wrong I was.”

You smiled wide, tears beginning to prick at your own eyes. “You stupid, stupid bat.” You cursed, laughter behind your words. “You couldn’t tell I was hopelessly in love with you?”

Cassian’s eyes flashed and he pulled you onto his lap, his lips catching yours. You sighed into the kiss, letting the hands on his cheeks fall back to tangle in his hair. One of his hands held tight to your waist, the other coming to cup the back of your neck. The kiss was hurried, needy. His tongue slid between your lips, exploring your mouth in a downright sinful way.

You kissed him until you thought your lungs were going to explode, pulling away to rest your forehead against his. You were both breathing heavy, the hand on your waist now drawing small circles on your thigh. “I love you,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your neck.

“I’ve always loved you.” You responded, tilting your head back and closing your eyes as his lips ran over your neck. You gave a small moan when his teeth dragged over a sensitive spot, tugging on his hair as he bit down. “Cass,” you gasped out, pulling his face back up to look at you. You took one look into his eyes and the golden rope in your heart shot out, latching onto him.

It knocked the breath out of you, eyes wide as you looked at him. You assumed the unknown tug towards Cassian was your own foolish lovesick heart, certainly not the mating bond. You blinked at him, not breathing. He brought a hand up to your face, rubbing his thumb on your cheek like you had been doing to him half an hour earlier.

“Breathe, mate. Breathe.”

Air rushed back into your lungs, gone as quickly as it came when you pressed your lips back to his.

***

I hope this was what you wanted!!!! Thank you for waiting patiently while I completed this <3. Please let me know what you think!!

Also for all my Love and Loss readers, here’s some sweet friendship Rhys to heal your hearts 🫶🏻

[steddiecameraroll]

Steve’s pov to this post now both POVs on ao3

Steve sighs and lowers his head in shame as the group of old classmates leave the shop. Softly plunking his forehead against the counter in defeat. His uniformed hat slips from his head onto the counter. If Robin had been working she would’ve added more than one tally onto the board after that pitiful display.

“Buck up, sailor boy.”

Steve jolts up to find Eddie Munson nimbly twirling his hat around his index finger.

“Munson, what are you…that’s my hat.” Steve swipes the hat swiftly from Eddie’s hand, feeling unnerved under the man’s silly smile.

When he straightens himself up he sees Eddie take in the entire ridiculous get up with an amused gaze.

“Love the outfit, by the way. Really finishes off the whole ambiance.” He motions around them to punctuate his point.

“I know it’s ridiculous, dude. You don’t have to rub it in.”

Steve’s heard every pirate pun in human existence since he started this shitty minimum wage job.

“Oh no, you misconstrue, my good man.”

Misconstrue?

As Eddie continues, he flattens his palms onto the countertop and leans into Steve’s space. The seemingly simple movement causes a weird sensation in Steve’s stomach that he tries to ignore.

“If I’m rubbing anything, it wouldn’t be your uniform.”

Steve’s palms are suddenly sweaty because what the fuck does that mean? He thinks his cheeks feel warmer than they did a moment ago too, and he’s grateful when Eddie moves away to begin looking through the display case.

He takes a steadying breath then from behind the counter, steps in beat with Eddie’s movements.

As the curly haired man drags his finger across the glass he asks, “what do you recommend?”

Steve realizes he might get out of this interaction unscathed if he can get through the next couple of minutes. So he sucks it up and dons his most charming smile.

“Um, the USS Butterscotch is a favorite or the cherry’s jubilee.” He watches Eddie carefully scrutinize each and every flavor of ice cream before standing up and directing his attention back on Steve. “What do you usually get when you eat ice cream?”

The corner of Eddie’s lip ticks up and then he leans in.

“Wanna know a secret?” The man whispers.

And Steve does, he really does. “Um, ok,” he replies shakily.

He steps closer ensuring he doesn’t miss Eddie’s next words, and braces himself because it feels like something he should do.

“I’m more of a salty treat, kinda man.” Then Eddie winks implying some kind of hidden meaning.

Steve doesn’t get it.

But he doesn’t want to admit to that fact. So he tries to hide it with an uncertain chuckle, and an awkward scratch to the back of his neck. He prays Eddie doesn’t spring some kind of pop quiz on him, catching him in the ruse.

“Well, then maybe-um-a parfait? Peanut butter?” A lightbulb goes off in his head and he smiles bright. “Or nuts…something with nuts?”

Eddie snorts and bites back a smile, catching Steve’s eye. How has he never noticed how defined Eddie’s cupids bow is?

The words that just tumbled out of Steve’s mouth finally hit his brain, and he wants to jump through a window. Because it’s fine, he’s only a complete idiot.

The last five minutes with this man have thrown Steve off his game.

What is happening? Chill out.

He shakes his head and grabs an errant cleaning rag trying to busy himself. Maybe if he keeps his eyes off the super senior, he’ll stop putting his foot in his mouth.

And maybe he’ll stop noticing how oddly attractive Eddie’s mouth is.

“I could go for some nuts,” Eddie’s voice pitches low and Steve’s knees almost buckle.

An image flashes in Steve’s mind of Eddie looking up at him from below and it makes his mouth go dry.

“What kind of nuts do you have, Stevie?” Eddie asks while leaning over, drawing Steve’s eyes to the taut bicep muscle suddenly appearing under his shirt sleeve.

How in the world is he not supposed to hear the sexual innuendo in that question? He swallows hard and pushes through, trying to pretend he’s not chubbing up in his stupid polyester shorts.

“Um, just -y’know- normal ones.” He can’t help himself and continues. “What kind do you like?”

He licks his lips, holding his breath, waiting to see if Eddie will continue the banter.

Steve feels like his skin is burning. He can’t remember the last time someone so blatantly flirted with him. Let alone a man. A sexy man, he’s realizing, but a man nonetheless.

There’s not enough time for him to question why he’s enjoying Eddie’s eyes on him. He feels like prey of some kind and fuck does it feel good.

He wonders if the rumors he’s heard about Eddie are true. If Steve pulled the man behind the counter would he really like Steve’s nuts?

When Eddie responds, his voice is lower and it sends a shiver up Steve’s spine.

“I’m sure I’d like anything you give me, captain.”

Steve can’t control the shuttering reply that slips from his mouth.

“Jesus,” he sighs. “Uh, how about our peanut butter brickle topped with our candied almonds?”

That chubbing from earlier is becoming an annoying problem. So Steve nervously pulls his scooper from its holster and starts mindlessly spinning it.

He’s trying so hard to not think about Eddie’s tongue.

“Sounds delicious. I’ll have one of those. Is there a show or anything I get with my treat?”

“A show?”

Like a strip tease?

Steve grabs a parfait cup, grateful to busy his hands with the order.

“Was just curious if there’s some kind of song or dance you have to perform in this adorable little outfit. Y’know, like that one restaurant in Chicago, Ed Debevic’s?”

Steve scrunches his nose in confusion while sliding open the display case.

“I don’t know what that is.”

“Really?” Eddie cocks his head. “It’s a 50’s diner place where the staff are dicks. Nothing? Really?”

Eddie’s face looks so earnestly surprised Steve wishes he had known the place. He shakes his head though, while reaching into the giant tub of swirly looking ice cream.

Steve can see Eddie in his peripheral, dip down to watch. Customers are always watching when Steve scoops but this customer makes Steve want to show off a little.

“Is there a shower back there?”

“What?” The question comes out of left field.

“In the back. Was just curious if you go home sticky or not.”

The timber of Eddie’s voice makes it sound like he’d prefer Steve to be sticky. Would he want to lick Steve clean? The flash of Eddie’s tongue fills Steve’s mind for the millionth time in the last 5 minutes.

“Um, no… I mean yes I’m generally pretty sticky at the end of my shift, but there’s no shower…in the back.” But he wishes there was. “There’s not really anything back there. Only a table and some safety posters, a white board that Robin shames me with.”

Eddie quirks an eyebrow. “Shames you? Robin…?”

“Buckley?” He’s sure Eddie knows Robin. Doesn’t he play an instrument? “From school.”

“Yeaaahhh, that’s what I thought. Good for her.” He says with a smirk.

Steve pours a sprinkling of candy coated almonds over the ice cream with a furrowed brow. The snarky comment is a perfect distraction from the uncomfortable tightness that has been growing in his shorts.

Steve almost forgot the whole point of this interaction was to get Eddie out of here quickly. Not to fantasize about how warm and wet those pouty lips would feel.

“Anything else I can get for you?” He asks while trying to hide his nervousness behind a smile.

He sets the concoction down on the counter and holds his breath.

A slow yet wicked grin spreads across Eddie’s face causing a knot to develop in Steve’s stomach. That grin looks dangerous.

“Naw, I’m good. Unless…” He pauses a beat before continuing. “There’s something available that’s not on the menu.”

And then the man has the audacity to lean over the countertop, dip his head slightly, and glance up at Steve with the most mouth watering gaze.

Oh, he definitely has something Eddie can have. He wants to give it to him. Wants to feed it slowly between his lips until they’re spread tight. Then shove his fingers into Eddie’s hair and massage his scalp. And from the look on Eddie’s face, he’d love every single inch of it.

Steve’s never wanted to fuck someone’s face more.

“Um,” he looks around the empty restaurant, gauging if he could sneak in the back for a few minutes unnoticed.

The mall does seem quieter at the moment. Maybe no one will be craving a sundae for the next 10 minutes.

“Y-yeah, there is actually.”

Nervous energy is strumming under his skin. He prays he’s not misreading this. He’s never done this before, but he really really wants to. Didn’t even know that, until the curly haired man walked in here.

Now he thinks if Eddie doesn’t suck his cock in the next 5 minutes he’s never going to stop thinking about it.

“It’s in the back.” He swallows hard. “Um, in the-in the break room. Wanna see it? Maybe?” Hopefully Eddie doesn’t hear the crack in Steve’s voice.

Steve stands in nervous anticipation waiting for this whole thing to blow up in his face. Maybe Eddie will bust out laughing, call Steve a creep and stomp his way out of the restaurant. If he’s lucky Eddie won’t go around town telling everyone how the old king Steve is now queer Steve.

“Yeeaaah, definitely need to see it.” Eddie’s tongue glides languidly across his bottom lip. “Maybe wanna taste it even.”

Steve’s heart stutters while it quickly redirects his blood flow south. A tiny gasp slips past his now gaping mouth as Eddie’s eyes darken before him.

He nods in silent understanding and knows he needs to move quickly before anyone shows up. While biting his bottom lip to prevent a whimper from slipping out, he motions his head toward the break room door.

“Cool, very cool.” He keeps himself pointed toward Eddie and walks backward leading the way.

When Eddie makes it to the gap in the counter, Steve sees Eddie’s pupils widen and hears a heavy groan rumble from the man’s chest.

The break room door hits Steve’s back and he wonders how quiet they have to be. Because he’s sure from the look Eddie’s giving him, he wants to do more than suck him off.

And the way Steve’s body is responding, he would seriously consider it.

They disappear behind the door for 17 minutes, where Steve receives a sexy metalhead shaped hickey on the inside of his thigh.

“I don’t have all day, sailor man.” Erica Sinclair stands with her hands on her hips, glaring at the two men when they stumble out into the open.

Steve’s eyes fall on the melted mess of Eddie’s ice cream before taking in the angry tyke.

“Well, get after it, sailor man.” Eddie brings his palm down quickly, smacking Steve’s ass.

“Oh,” Steve startles forward feeling his cheeks heat up.

“Call me later?” Eddie whispers.

Steve tries to bite back a smile but fails while nodding eagerly.

Apparently Steve had been right, Eddie did want to lick him clean.

Eddie’s POV

coffee? ☕️🍩💕

[flowersforchoso]

intimacies ୨୧

cw: contains suggestive themes.

(bi-han x f.reader)

he enjoys spooning in the morning. and whatever he's in the mood for, sensually rutting or ploughing into you will result in an orgasm that'll take moments to recover from while he is invigorated anew; revitalised, having nourished his virility. clinging to him as the pleasured haze fades, pleading for him to remain.

"stay for a bit, please." your arm wraps around his bicep as you look up at him, attempting to change his mind

he looks away and grunts, "i have important things to attend to." yanking off your arm and rising from the bed to prepare for the day. the lack of post-coital affection stings. you think its something you'll never quite get used to.

when he enters the room with just a towel around his waist, you bite your lip while admiring his physique, which compels him to speak

"are you aware its rude to stare?"

you smile at him, then retort, "forgive me for being unable to resist your good looks."

your words halt his movements. he just stares at you, denying the thrill of a comment, then proceeds to don his uniform and accessories; the mask completing his ensemble.

"i'll see you later" he announces without casting another glance, leaving you with the early quietude

you'll forever be ignorant of the curve of his lips behind the mask. and that this brightened mood carries on throughout the day.

sometimes, he's all over you feverishly planting kisses everywhere, no inch of skin untouched. he's had a bad day, and needs to unwind, or he's feeling particularly affectionate—the lines are blurred. but one thing is certain: the thread of patience would snap any minute. you're pressed flush against him; impossibly close, to the point it feels suffocating as his hands roam around squeezing, groping, fondling you everywhere. the pleasurable onslaught is dizzying, causing your knees to slightly buckle. he palms your breasts, eliciting a whimper out of you, "bi-han," while trying to wriggle free. he pauses to look you in the eye, an annoyance swirling within his iris. "what is it?" he queries, but it sounds more like a chide. you didn't mean to put him off, ruin the mood, muttering a sheepish "nothing," savoring the few seconds of a breather. his cheeks are tinted red. the image of an uninhibited man before you. he moves to whisper, "then be quiet" directly in your ear; the words burrow into the canal. and resumes his ministrations. this time, you can't quite escape it.

even though he appears annoyed, he actually likes it when you bother him with silly questions. "can cryomancy be taught?" you ask all of a sudden.

"no."

you gasp, beaming with innocence, "will our babies be cryomancers?"

or anything really,

"bi-han!" he frantically rushes into the room upon hearing your cry with concern etched on his features. "is something wrong? are you hurt?" he asks, examining your body for injury. "yes" you reply before patting your lips, "here."

he's a man in love so he'll indulge (just don't go overboard with it.)

when you invite him to rest his head on your lap, he obliges. you play with his hair while humming a melody that relaxes and lulls him to sleep. moments like this are his favourite; he feels completely at peace bathing in your warmth.

knit a vest? buy a hair tie? write a letter? whatever it is, its the thought that counts. he's filled with gratitude and cherishes it forever

if you're going to be away for extended periods of time, a lackey is assigned to ensure your protection. dark eyes and stealthy movements follow you about, all oblivious to you. he takes his responsibility to you seriously

loves to share meals with you, especially his. its just a really intimate activity to indulge in but if you tried to feed him, he'd refuse.

he is bashful if he walks in on you undressing or having a bath. regardless of how many times he's seen you in the nude, he murmurs an apology before turning away. the moments after are so awkward because he's ridden with guilt for being aroused by your figure, oscillating between respect and objectification. underneath his crude, tough as nails exterior lies a gentleman.

fun times with board games. if he doesn't know how to play, you teach him and vice-versa. this is when you notice his competitive streak.

asking for his opinions, particularly on changes to your appearance; a new hairstyle/color, outfit etc. he always seems unethused or negative about it but in actuality, it's the opposite and this reflects in his behaviour. he just wants the visual feast to himself; stave off wandering eyes and potential competition.

one of the very rare times you see him crack a laugh is when you blurt out random chinese. he's taken aback at first since what you said was gibberish, wondering where it came from; until you tell him you've been practicing to impress him. "don't embarrass yourself" he reprimands, though there's no real bite to it, then rewards your efforts with a baritone chuckle

[m4rs-ex3]

the visuals for the last like 20 minutes of atsv are my favorite things ever

specifically: the color theory

earth-42 is obviously striking on a whole nother level

we tend to automatically think of red as the color of danger, but that's loud and passionate and angry. this haunting, sickening green feels more conniving and threatening and apocalyptic.

(if you think of color in disney movies, all the scariest, most cunning villains--maleficent, scar, ursula, evil queen, facilier, gothel--have either palettes or grand moments or motifs heavily utilizing green)

and something i always notice is that rio 42 looks just a little off, and it's because they reflect so much green in her eyes they look almost entirely green

and, if this is your first time watching, you have no idea why the environment is made to be so deeply unsettling. let's look at gwen's dimension for a sec

being home is a really bad thing to gwen. while miles was doing everything he could to get home, gwen was literally dragged there--because gwen views her dimension as unsafe (ignore the trans parallels ignore the trans parallels ingore the tra

it's dark. it has the same ominous rain. but you can tell it's 65. that bisexual lighting is unmistakable

i can't even go into the colors of gwen and george's argument because there is an image limit and i am lazy. but we know it's insane. the emotional peak of the scene is also where we see the colors most vibrant and changing the most abruptly

and when they have their beautiful lil moment, this is what happens

not only is it blindingly bright and trans colored all of a sudden, but the characters don their "true" coloring

and even after gwen leaves, the scene is still bright, and familiar

miles should be safe in his dimension. but we know he's not.

back to earth-42. well i mean we have these absolute visual bangers what do i need to say u get it

and then there's this absolutely incredible moment where i would say miles is at his emotional peak (manic peak as well; i mean spot's hands and the infamous revenge line...yoikes.) and just like with gwen, the emotional high is where we see the most dynamic colors so coincidence i think not

this next sequence is just one of the coolest fuckin chase-esq scenes i've ever seen. like the mumbattan one slapped but the pacing and direction and elements and epicness together here are just immaculate

another thing--miguel/ben's post is heavily shrouded in red. he's supposed to be ominously looming over exactly where miles is headed. buttttttttt~ when miles first crash lands, there is quite a bit of red, and as he gets closer to home, the city gets bluer and bluer with less and less red, bc yk he's not actually headed towards miguel/ben. woah. i make sense guys. i am a fart smella. i mean smart smella. i mean fart fella. i mean fart smella. i mea

[houseofhyde]

i. another man’s feast.

pairing. aemond targaryen x fem!reader

synopsis. aemond has only ever wanted to take care of you, too bad you’re married to his neglectful brother.

warnings. stark!reader, infidelity, lmao the reader kinda roasts aegon, purity culture/reader being literally clueless abt the naked tango, canon misogyny, plot-heavier than intended (this started as just a drabble about aemond devouring aegon’s wife but i got invested in them both, i’m sorry!), smut (dubcon, somnophilia, cunnilingus, fingering)

word count. 3.5k

hyde’s input. no bc hear me out: aemond is a twisted fuck who would get off on corrupting his brother’s wife, i'm not falling for that perfect princely image.

another man’s series. feast. comfort. pleasure (coming soon).

you startle awake with a broken gasp.

the hour is late, you know this because the fireplace has long burnt out and only the pale moonlight keeps the cold room from woefully being consumed by darkness. sleep dances on your eyelids, doing it’s very best to seduce you back into an unconscious state, and while you want nothing more than to let yourself be swept away back into the lands of hedonistic fantasies- a place where you’re free to imagine a different life, one where you never sleep alone and it is the other brother who takes you under his protective hold beneath the eyes of the seven-, there is an itch begging to be scratched, a pounding in your heart which refuses to go ignored, a pulse between your thighs you’ve never felt before.

you aim to yawn, yet find the sound you make is far more erotic, a breathless whisper thrown out into the chilling air. sweat gathers over your body like a second skin, stirring you uncomfortably. it’s only when you try to readjust your position that you realise your legs are bent at the knee, spread apart and with each foot planted on the feathered mattress below.

an unknown weight rests between your parted limbs.

like every itch, this one grows greater with each satisfying scratch delivered upon it, only it can not be from your own hands as one is splayed out to the side, fisting at the sheets where your husband should be laying, and the other digs crescents into the meat of your thigh, squeezing the flesh like it is a thief and you, an unforgiving lord who seeks justice in strangulation.

another scratch, another whimper, another spreading of legs, this time pushing to be wider than is comfortable, yet you find there is no other option against the solid mass which knocks against the inner parts of your thighs.

“hmm.” the unmovable weight hums a noise against you, making you all too aware of both it’s tangible presence and it’s positioning against your most intimate area.

a sound, akin to dripping water or a kitten lapping up the sweetest milk, flutters past your ears and lands in your brain, building it’s nest within and condemning you to a future of relating such mundane noises to such an ecstatic feeling.

“oh!” your mouth is dry as it opens to speak, tongue sticking to the roof momentarily before dropping down and slipping out to wet your lips, the wet muscle flicking over your dried petals and watering them back to their more voluptuous life.

realisation dawns upon you.

till now, you’d heard only rumours, hushed whispers and giggled gossip between the maids that filtered in and out of your chambers, of such acts of depravity, where a lover would don their bed partner with their tongue and deliver them pleasure, for the pure sake of pleasure.

it is something you’ve struggled to wrap your head around, brought up to believe the act of consummating a marriage was one of duty, a ritual performed by husband and wife with one goal in mind: an heir.

your own wedding night certainly had been just that, your husband rucking up your chemise and spilling his seed into you, only to tuck himself back into his trousers and return to the wine and festivities, not sparing so much as a glance to your tear stained face nor your aching bod, bleeding from the act of being broken in and weeping at the hollow feeling in your chest.

four moons passed, a whole season changed, and you can still count on one hand the nights your wifely duties have been called into use, each ending in the king-to-be chasing his high and leaving you dry, slamming the door on his way out of your supposed marital chambers.

there is no pleasure in the way prince aegon moves over your body, only duty.

and, so, this is new.

you struggle to decipher what is warmer: his mouth or your skin. unlike the thrusts he delivers while jabbing the tip of his cock uncomfortably against your neglecting womb, there is a rhythm to how this appendage moves.

it licks and pokes and tastes each unnamed part of you, wetting you in more ways than one as it drags over your centre, reaching higher, higher, higher, till it touches a part of you you’d yet to discover.

“please...” you’re fairly sure it is a whisper, yet it echoes in the dark room, mocking you with your own pleas for something, anything, everything so long as you get to feel this kind of cooling burn for the rest of your waking- and sleeping- hours.

the man between your thighs graces you with no verbal response, mouth full with your own dripping essence and pulsating crotch, yet a hand, warm and soft and large, cups the underside of your thigh. it travels slowly, languidly, in sync with the tongue on your previously neglected pearl, till it’s fingers intertwine with your own and relieve your skin of the assault under your sharpened talons.

he makes no protest as the nails dig into his flesh.

you have no clue what’s gotten into aegon, for it was merely hours ago he’d complained at your unswelling womb, a mouthful of food and a goblet emptied of wine as he grovelled over the thought of once again performing such an exhausting chore only for you to waste his seed and grow no child within you.

but a beggar can be no chooser, you will take his vulgar offer of affection and pray he never speaks a word of how he’s defiled you with his tongue. the thought that he simply aims to slick your entrance and make his job easier crosses your mind.

hummed satisfaction from below silences your mind.

he’s enjoying this, singing you praises in forms of lustful sighs and muffled moaning. it is nothing like laying with aegon in the traditional sense, where a hand covers your mouth to silence whatever pained whine you let slip and his face remains stoic till he cracks out one measly grunt as his seed spills.

“aegon...” you’ve breathed his name before you can stop yourself, eyes widening in panic as the hand intwined with your own gives a squeeze. you ruck your hips up to chase his mouth as he parts to breath, not wanting to welcome the chill of the night against your dampened skin. “my king, don’t stop.”

he could have your head for this, demanding something from the man who was destined to sit the iron throne. he’d certainly threatened to do so for less, like the time you’d dared to tell him his tunic was sporting a stain.

no threat leaves him this time.

instead, he delves deeper into your pleasure, recharged from the one full breath he’d snuck into his lungs and ready to explore you once more with his tongue. it is not long before the hand on your thigh trails further back, till you feel the tips of his fingers dance on the edges of where your thigh meets the very centre of you.

“you taste sweeter than any heaven the gods may offer me.” he’s never spoken with such eloquence, and certainly not so kindly towards you. the most you’ve gotten is a look of approval on your first meeting, body still adjusting the warmth away from your wintery home and eyes more terrified than a startled doe, no more than a nod towards his grandsire, otto hightower, needed to confirm that he’d take you to wed. “if only i could bottle you up and drink you each day.”

the pale light of the moon casts shadows all over the room, images that you can not make out painting the walls and the ceiling above. the voice in your head, driven mad with your fiery desire, whispers sweet nothings into your ear, coercing you to take a peek down at your husband and bask in the way he’s drinking from your body as though you are his holy grail.

you’ve never seen aegon look anything but bored or irritated. it’s all new, the way his eyebrows are scrunched, the way his eye hungrily gazes up at you, the way his hair threatens to fall from it’s signature tied-back style, long tresses of silver already tickling your thighs and dancing on his forehead as he-

aegon wears his hair loose.

aegon has short hair.

aegon has two eyes.

you’re frozen where you lay, spine running cold as the terror of reality takes over, yet legs burning hot as his tongue draws pretty patterns over your buzzing bud.

a million and one thoughts run through your head, most about how aegon will have both your heads on a spike, a few about how much the one-eyed prince is too intelligent of a mind to lose it over such an act of sin, and a single one about how you need him to hurry up and decide what he’s doing with his finger instead of merely stroking it over your lower lips.

“he’s passed out in my chambers.” like always, aemond reads your mind as easily as he may read a book on the origins of the dothraki people or the history of dragons. his head tilts to the side, resting against your thigh as he stares up at you, eye inviting you to kick him out your bed.

your legs only move to rest upon his shoulders.

aemond peppers your skin with several kisses and you cringe at the sticky residue they leave behind, unprepared to face the part of you that feels pride in catching the shine of your wetness along his lips and down his chin.

“i only meant to check you were resting soundly, my lady.” his words are whispered against your skin, lifting goosebumps where his lips brush against your inner thigh. he’s gentle, a trait you’ve always wondered how he earned growing up with no other brother but aegon to watch over him, and it near makes you want to cry, out of sadness for the marriage you have and out of longing for more of this kind of affection. “but you were making noises, thrashing in your sleep, mumbling incoherences. i believed your dreams were troubling you, until you spoke my name in the sweetest voice and your back arched like a purring cat.”

the tension between you both grows stronger than ever the longer he holds your attention. it’s always been there, hiding beneath the surface like a siren awaiting a ship of sailors to lure into the trepid waters. with looks that lingered too long, and dances meant for a lord and his lady at public feasts, and hours spent seeking each others company, the tension went ignored and unaddressed, convincing you it would disappear with time.

clearer than ever, it is, that this feeling is only bound to grow.

“why...” you exhale a shaky breath, hand seeking out the comfort of touching him and finding rest on the scarred side of him, thumb smoothing over the rough tissue peeking out from beneath his eye-patch. aemond sighs, eye closing as the muscles in his shoulders relax. “why did he come to you?”

“he didn’t.” the finger between your thighs is a cruel replacement for the wonders his tongue had worked over you, brushing and rubbing and touching you in the same pattern yet it lacks. nevertheless, your thighs clench around his neck and he nips over the skin once more with his teeth, painting a vision of bruises without your knowledge. “i found him lurking the halls, attempting to seduce a marbled carving of a nude woman. it seems his taste goes beyond only those who carry a heartbeat.”

and, still, he does not desire his own wife you wish to say.

but then you wouldn’t want aemond to misinterpret you, to believe you cared that much about aegon and his indiscretions. though the maids may whisper differently, you are not blind to the ways he touches the serving girls, nor the hours he makes his way down to the street of silk, eager to stick his weeping cock in the cheapest whore. you never speak on it because, why would you? so long as they keep him entertained, you’re free from him. but it is only human to want to be desired, even more so by a man who has his standards set for anyone who may take him, or even not take him.

it leaves you only to conclude that there is something amiss with you, something so repulsive about you that not even the new lord of fleabottom himself wants you.

aemond brings you out your own head with the breeching of your hole.

at last he’s decided what to do with his hands, slipping his longest finger snug within your warmth. with aegon, he treats your insides like a doormat, there for him to trample all over. aemond is, as always, different than his brother, curling his finger against the spongy flesh and eliciting a wanton moan from you.

“aemond!”

“i’ve always known my brother was a fool.” for the first time in your life, you’re saddened to feel the return of that empty feeling between your thighs, the prince retracting his finger and guiding it back to the bundle of nerves. he works over it in a figure of eights, slow enough to keep you burning yet not enough to let you be consumed in the flames. “his attitude is egregious, his behaviour even more so.”

you’ve always marvelled at aemond’s potential to be so calm and, yet, so angered. you’ve watched him, more times than you’d care to admit, during family dinners and throne room gatherings. you’ve seen how his face remains so stoic, no emotion slipping through. but his voice. oh, his voice, it always let’s the hatred, the anger and the loathing bleed through.

“your words are treacherous.” the irony, to accuse this man as he douses you in pleasure, recounting tales of your sleeping husband. “aegon is your future king.”

“and he is your husband.” a pointed look is sent your way and he furthers his point by returning the feel of his tongue to your skin, licking a strip right up the seem of your opening. your hips cant into him, he blesses you with a kiss to your pearl. “even knowing his nature, i can not understand how blind he is to what he has. how he can sit in my chambers, drink my wine and speak ill of the wife he’s been gifted.”

he reenters you with his fingers, this time two, thrusting them into you at a slowed pace, each one punctuated with the bend of his knuckles and the mind-numbing feeling it brings over you.

your mouth drops open, another gasp leaving you as aemond takes possession over your body, lips enclosing over your pulsating ball of nerves.

“‘tis i the one who lacks an eye, yet i see clearly what he can not.” the more impassioned he becomes, the faster his fingers empty and refill you. like a harpist plays his instrument, the prince plucks the strings of your body and makes you sing. an uneasy feeling begins to take form in your loins, like the feeling you get when you’re in desperate need of relieving your bladder only it’s warmer, more urgent, stretching your limits till they threaten to snap. “that his wife is more rare than any gem in the seven kingdoms. if you’d been wedded to me, i’d never know the touch of another woman. why would i need to, when a goddess with the prettiest cunt already warms my bed?”

“we never share a bed for me to warm.” you hate to confess such a thing out loud, it’s different to when the maids whisper about it each morning they wake you alone. and confessing it to aemond, of all people, leaves you with tears stinging your eyes, pitiful and small under his watchful gaze. “he gives his seed and leaves when the deed is done.”

“then he is a greater idiot than i ever imagined.”

he speaks no more, mouth returning to your burning skin and fingers fondling you deeper, harder, sweeter in their strokes. he welcomes the taste of you with open arms- and open mouth-, the resolve he’d feigned tossed aside with great abandon in exchange for the ecstasy that is the vision of you, face flushed, thighs tensed, nipples hardened beneath your night dress.

you squeeze tighter around his neck, rewarding him for his skilled tongue with cries of approval that shoot right down to his hardened cock. he barely registers the way his own hips have began to mimic yours, rutting into the sheets beneath him as he imagines you, completely nude and skin lit up with the light from his fireplace, a crying beauty as he splits your legs till they threaten to break under his thrusts, driving his cock deeper each time till his seed spills and makes home in your womb, soon to swell with a babe made of his silver hair and your dark eyes.

“oh, gods, please!” you wonder what will send you to hell quicker: the scathing you cast upon your husband with his own brother or the way you let him gift you such sinful pleasure. nothing will come of this act, no babe will be made, and so it is supposed to be all in vain that he touches you so intamitly. were you more strong willed, you’d tell him to stop. were he not so caring, you’d kick him away. “aemond i... please, something is... happening!”

he ignores your louder cries and the hand that takes hold of his precious targaryen locks, pulling at the roots. you’re certain a few rip from his skull, yet the man only grows more desperate in his touches.

“shh, relax...” he breathes the words against you, eye refusing to close like he’s trying to burn the image of you into his mind, so he may remember you every time he wishes to. “it’s just your peak. has aegon rejected you so much? has he taught you nothing about the pleasures in a marital bed?”

his questions are rhetoric, neither of you needing to verbalise the truth.

“i could teach you, my lady.” his offer leaves him before he has time to consider what he’s saying, thinking more with his cock than his brain. at last, a similarity with his brother dearest. “there’s so much i could teach you.”

the coil in your stomach snaps.

you lift off the bed like a woman crazed, vision gone white, mouth babbling noises unintelligible, ears ringing and hands pulling, grasping, holding anything they can find, one within the prince’s hair and the other being dragged into the warmth of his free hand.

aemond shows no sign of stopping, loving on you deeper as you topple over the edge of pleasure. he pulls your closer, as if it’s possible, lifting the rump of your arse off the bed with your legs dangling over his shoulders, wearing your thighs like a set of ear-warmers.

the time between your wailing and the come down is unknown but, when you crash, he catches you, returning you to the safety of your mattress, hand still soaked in your slick as it soothes over your burning skin, littering your thigh with traces of your own pleasure and butterfly kisses from his soft lips.

aemond pulls back with one last searing press of his mouth to your soaked folds, the fingers which had been in you slipping into his awaiting lips and coating his tastebuds in you, you, you.

a hollow feel takes over you and a shiver leaves you as the cold of the room meets your sweat covered skin. you ache to speak, to call his name and beg him into your arms. what comes next, you expect, is his turn to chase pleasure, to reenact his brother’s own explores with your body as you lay limp and accept it, like a good wife is meant to.

only, you shamefully like the idea of aemond using you.

unexpected, it is, when the prince stands himself up right, hand ignoring the glaring hardness within his breeches and, instead, focusing on tucking his rumpled tunic back into place. his eye avoids your own pair, like realisation has struck him with it’s lightning bolt and woken him up from his lustful haze.

regret is bound to flood his soul.

like his brother, he leaves you splayed out on the sheets, hair a mess and face tear-stained, though for completely differing reasons. his boot covered footsteps echo- one thud, two thud, three thud, four- and your startled by the crackling of wood. light refills the room with a swift stroke, the embers burning once more in the fireplace and gracing you with the view of him, messy hair and all.

the prince parts ways with you, before he can give into the want to return to your bed and let himself be found there, consequences be damned, and turns only to face you once more as he reaches the door, hand turning white with the force of his grip.

“sweet dreams, y/n.”

the door does not slam like when aegon leaves.

[flowergirlzz]

✿ falling summary: you've been anticipating simons return home for what feels like forever, but what happens when the day finally arrives and your body gives out? wc: 2.4k

this is based on a suggestion I got! hope you all like it <3

there is no quite feeling like the one you get on the day of simons return. his return home.

after what feels like a whole lifetime of him being away on deployment, on frontlines, missions. doing and seeing things you can't imagine, even in your wildest dreams. things he would never explain to you in detail. wanting to spare you the image of the gruesome things that happen around the world. things that have been haunting his dreams for decades now, things that never leave your minds eye once you have been exposed to them. the gore and blood and death have settled themselves on simon. have coated his skin in crimson that never seems to wash off no matter how many days, weeks, years go by. anyone who has had the misfortune of running into ghost has not been able to ignore the demise being reflected back at them when looking into his eyes. he is a feared man, a man that people run from, shield themselves from.

and still you do nothing but worry for him.

with having little to no contact when he is away you cannot help but to worry about him. you don´t know whether he is safe or not, let alone where in the world he is at times, due to classified missions. sure you live your life. take care of the house, take walks with your dog, hang out with your friends. cafés, parties, museums. a normal life really.

except for the fact that for the life of you cannot fall asleep at night without fearing that your simon will not come home. that he is hungry, cold or exhausted. wherever he is.

that is why you've started a tradition of always cooking a big feast for him the day he comes home. always his favorite. a small gesture that made him feel like he was a worthy man. coming home to the most beautiful woman he has ever seen, an actual safe house, in comparison to the ones he stayed in during missions, and a warm meal made with love.

if there is such a thing as a heaven, simon is sure that coming home to you is what it feels like.

this particular morning he had called you while at the base to hear that pretty little voice of yours squeal with excitement as he told you about how him, as well as the other guys were safe and well, and that he would be boarding the aircraft shortly and be home by tonight. you immediately jumped off the bed, thrilled with the thought, no, the fact, that you would not have to spend any more nights alone in said bed. at least for a while.

jumping off the bed had made you dizzy. something you had been almost constantly for the past couple of weeks while simon was gone. starting off harmless with getting a bit dizzy when standing up too quickly to it being a persistent feeling, with having to sit down when standing up for too long due to the nauseating feeling of dizziness brought onto you. you had been a little worried about it, sure, but assumed it was a result of worrying too much and sleeping too little. and maybe it was. however that was something you had to look into some other day as today was the day your love comes home to you!

god knows how you have missed him. those safe arms of his, broad chest and deep eyes. his dad jokes, rough hands and sweet talk. his soft kisses, tall frame and protective thoughts.

the way he always touches you in one way or another. whether it was a hand on your thigh, head in the crock of your neck, arms wrapped around you. always keeping you close.

the way he is capable of making you see stars, knowing your body better than you did yourself at times.

"one more sweetheart" he'd always say. "give me one more".

and you always did.

spending hours into the nights leaving marks on your curves, and prepping soft kisses all over them in the mornings.

the way he never let you walk around outside alone when the sun had set.

the way you knew you could always confide in him, and him in you.

everything. you missed every single thing about that man when he was gone. and when he was home, there was nothing you were lacking.

that is how your thoughts raced throughout the day anyway, in the shower, the car, the grocery store and kitchen.

you had gotten yourself freshened up and was now preparing the last of dinner. with a light smile on your face the entire time you were cutting up vegetables and putting the meat in the oven, you were ignoring the fact that the unwanted sensation of dizziness had made itself known once again. so caught up in your thoughts and concentration on the cooking, you did not even hear the front door open. a pair of combat boots stepping in, a heavy duffle bag hitting the floor, a balaclava coming off.

"a sight for sore eyes" you suddenly hear the familiar voice of simon utter behind you. startled and surprised you quickly turn around, eyes wide and knife in hand until you see your tall man, leaning against the kitchen entrance, arms crossed and smirking at you.

you put the knife down before immediately taking off towards him with arms outstretched, a wide smile on your face and a squeal leaving your throat as you air his name. colliding with his steady build and wrapping your arms around his neck as he picks you up and spins you around. holding onto you as tightly as you hold onto him, months worth of worrying leaves your body and you can feel his own relaxing more and more with every second that passes.

"missed you so much" you whisper as he starts to put you down, your feet hitting the ground but never letting loose of the hold on you. "missed you more sweetheart. more than you know" he responds and you feel your eyes starting to gloss, tears threatening to spill while looking up at him. simon is here. in front of you. he is safe and sound.

home.

"none of that" he says with a light smile, putting a hand on your cheek and caressing your under eye with his thumb. almost daring the tears to spill, as if he was telling them that they wouldn't stand a chance against him. "not happy to see me darlin´?" simon jokes while maintaining eye contact. taking a mental picture of this moment, to think about while he is back in the barracks, alone and missing you.

you roll your eyes at his playfully in return. "the happiest" you answer before leaning up and locking your lips with his. it would be easy mistaking simon for a man starved considering the way he was kissing you. so intense, passionate. yeah, he had definitely missed you too. he was kissing you in a way you had only dreamt of being kissed like before you met him. feeling a familiar warmth in your lower stomach you pull away from his lips, but not without giving him a couple pecks first. chasing your lips for more, simon leans his forehead against yours, savoring the moment.

"i made your favourite, just the way you like. you must be starving" simon smirks before responding

"I could eat only you for all eternity and be satisfied"

you lower your face and giggle against him. oh you didn't mistake him for being starving. he is. "shut up si" you giggle "go take a quick shower and we'll eat" simon hums in response. he cannot deny the wonderful smell of a homemade meal hitting his senses the second he stepped into the house. he was definitely right.

heaven.

"care to join me sweetheart?" he raises his eyebrows in question.

"so eager" you tease back.

"is a man not allowed to miss his women nowadays hm?"

still giggling against him you now lean your head back, towards the ceiling and simon takes his opportunity to devour your throat. not even being home for 10 minutes before leaving marks on you. "shower simon. then dinner" you gasp into the air while playing with his hair, cherishing the way his lips feel on you. groaning onto your throat you hear him mumble a "so bossy" between kisses before lifting himself from you and letting you go.

"i`ll be quick"

"i´ll be waiting"

watching him walk to the bathroom to take a shower that you presume would probably last a honest 10 seconds, you walk back into the kitchen to set the table and prepare the last touches to the meal. only now noticing how the dizziness never really left. you are not pushed up against simon anymore, kissing him, which understandably results in feeling dizzy on war or another, so why has it not left?

"get it together" you mumble to yourself while pulling dishes from their places and setting them on the table. you have barely finished setting the table when you hear the shower turn off and half dried off simon appearing in the kitchen once again. now in his gray sweatpants and black compression shirt. so incredibly hot, you manage to think as you brace yourself by grabbing the table.

simon immediately frowns upon seeing you, smile fading from his lips and hands outstretched towards you in an act of instinct. "are you feeling alright darlin´?" he asks, voice filled with concern.

is it that obvious?

pulling yourself together you, for what feels like the hundred time today, ignore the dizziness and look up at your boyfriends concerned expression. ´the man just came back from deployment for gods sake, don't be dramatic, your thoughts continue to race as you focus on what you were about to do.

"i´m fine si, just need to get the meat out of the oven and well eat" you say and start making your way towards said oven. grabbing an oven mitt you lower yourself to open it.

grab the food. let it cool off. eat.

easy right?

no. the warmth of the inside of the oven finds its way straight to your face the second you pull it open, which only seems to worsen your dizziness. are your thoughts starting to dazzle too? is that simon saying something? why does it sound like you are underwater? god your face feels too hot, like it is burning up.

grab the food. let it cool off. eat.

managing grabbing the hot food with the oven mitt you as quickly as possible pull it out of the oven and onto the counter. the light headedness only getting worse by the action. simon is now next to you, clearly in distress. do not do this right now you tell yourself. simon just got home, he deserves peace and quiet for once, you continue to think as the the feeling of losing control hits you. is your vision going black? what is going on?

"si-" you manage to get out before your whole body goes numb, vision completely black. you are fainting. right into simons panicked and surprised arms. you were fine when he got home, right?

right?

simon catches your limp body before setting you to the floor, immediately checking your pulse. why had you fainted? where you sick? why didn't you tell him you were feeling bad? simon knew you often withheld information like this from him, claiming you "didn't want to bother him" and that "you were fine". if you only knew how absolutely nothing you did could ever bother him. he wanted to take care of you, to help you and be there for you like you always were for him. whatever the issue may be he would fix it for you.

all you had to do was to tell him about it.

the next thing you remember is hearing simons voice above you, slowly opening your lids and seeing him through confused eyes.

"god? am I dead?"

"no it's me. what's going on sweetheart? you fainted"

oh you said that out loud.

you push your hands to the floor and push, trying to get yourself up but a pair of rough hands stop you, one handing you a glass of water which you immediately grab a hold of with one of your own hands, taking a few sips and regaining consciousness and finally looking directly at the man sitting beside you.

"i´m sorry" you manage to get out while trying to avoid direct eye contact. this is not how tonight was supposed to go at all. you were supposed to have a nice dinner, catch up on all the details you have missed since he left, cuddle, kiss, fuck.

not this.

your thoughts are interrupted by simons hand on your jaw, pulling your face towards his to make you look him in the eye.

"talk to me"

"I've been feeling off lately" you let out embarrassingly.

"has this been happening a lot?"

"a bit"

"why didn't you tell me? you know who to call to get a hold of me in case of things like this. doesn't matter where i am, what time it is. you were supposed to call love"

"yeah in case of important things" you mumble and set the now half empty glass down on the floor, still looking directly into simons eyes as his thumb caresses your jaw.

"your health is important. in fact it is the number one most important thing of all important things. doesn't mean there has to be something underlying here. but if it has been happening a lo-

"i´m okay si, i promise" you try to smile at him, positioning yourself so that you can lean into him. head on his shoulder. his arm wrapping around your shoulders and his other hand grabbing your hand sitting in your lap.

"we're going to get it checked out tomorrow. a few tests will tell us all we need to know. just want you to be healthy and feel good sweetheart" he whispers into your hair, nuzzling into it and pressing soft kisses to it. "for now though, we're going to get some of that delicious looking meal you've prepared in this belly of yours and then you're going to tell me all about the things I´ve missed while I was gone, sound good?"

you nod onto his shoulder, a light smile coating your lips as you start to feel better. grateful to have someone to always lean onto whether you thought you needed it or not. simon was there.

"thank you simon, for being so good to me" you slowly lift your head to look at the beautiful man beside you, knowing that this is the one you are going to spend the rest of your life with. through thick and thin.

"always"

[wriothesleysgf]

˚ ⊹ ₊˚ missing you — nagi seishiro + afab reader

[ex]plicit content, minors dni · fingering , phone sex , praise , dirty talk , light guided touching.

"sei," you whimpered, fingers pistoning in and out of your sticky cunt. your other hand fisted the sheets as your head turned to its side, inhaling your boyfriend's faint scent left on his pillow.

nagi was currently out of the country for a match so between training and press activities, you've barely been able to talk to him. he'd send you little updates, odd photos, and never failed to send you a sweet goodnight text. you missed him terribly, craving nothing more than being in his arms. however, after sei had sent you a fairly suggestive mirror picture when he'd gotten home from training, you couldn't help yourself.

it was clear that he'd just showered the grime and grass stains off of himself, as evident by the fluffy white towel wrapped around his waist. faint water droplets decorated his abs and prominent v line, this sight alone causing you to cease all functioning. you thanked the gods that he sent it through imessage rather than snapchat, because the more that you stared, the more you drooled. as soon as you noticed the half hard bulge concealed by the towel, you knew it was over for you.

with your middle and ring finger pumping into your weeping hole and your thumb rubbing messy circles around your puffy clit, you moaned nagi's name like a sinful melody. if only he could see what a complete and utter mess you had become, all from a simple image.

alas, your little activity was interrupted by the ringer of your phone. you ignored it the first time around, not caring enough to pause seeking your high, though when it rang for the third time, you reached over to grab the device with your free hand, digits still continuing to fuck yourself slowly.

"hey, angel," the man on the other end of the line called.

"s-sei!" you exclaimed overenthusiastically, primarily because you accidentally brushed the heel of your palm against your oversensitive clit though also because you were excited to hear the sound of his voice.

"how are you, bunny?" he asked.

"'m good, jus' miss you," you replied, subconsciously continuing to finger yourself as you spoke.

"'ll be home soon, promise. i miss you too,"

your heart warmed at his returned confession. "how was training, baby?" you queried, doing your best not to give away the fact that you were literally touching yourself as you spoke.

"boring. 's nothing new, and i'd rather be home next to you,"

the pad of your finger ghosted over your g spot, prompting you to arch your back and whine down the line. you tried to mask it with a yawn, though nagi wasn't an idiot and had a fair idea about what you were currently up to.

"y' tired, angel?" he teased, playing into your facade. he let you believe that you had successfully tricked him, with you being to preoccupied to catch on to the fact he was playing with you. "hmm, bet i could make y' even more exhausted,"

"what d'ya mean, sei? i don' get it," he could picture your wide doe eyes; the innocent face that kept all of your nasty thoughts hidden under lock and key.

"y' know what i mean, sweetheart," nagi continued, "how ya always get so sleepy after i spend all that time fucking your pretty little cunt, fillin' her up with my cum over 'nd over,"

his dirty words caught you off guard. you gasped, fingers beginning to pick up speed.

"you like that? 's my angel really a dirty, cockhungry slut, hmm? is that why you got so worked up over the picture i sent? now you're tryin' to fuck yourself, aren't ya, bunny? stuffing that cute pussy even though 'm the only one that can make her cum, yeah?"

you stopped all attempts of holding back, unashamedly moaning his name at the top of your lungs. nagi could hear the faint sounds of you fucking yourself, the lewd squelching of your cunt going straight to his own dick at he began to fist his own length. "c'mon, talk t' me, angel,"

"'m- 'm," you struggled to form a cohesive sentence. "sei, jus' need you so so bad,"

"i know, baby, 's okay," he cooed, "keep fuckin' yourself f'me, alright? jus' the way i usually do, scissor your fingers a little, always drives ya insane when i do it,"

you followed his suggestion, and he could tell by how much louder you got.

"such a good bunny," nagi praised, "are ya close, doll?"

"mhm!" you squealed, not fully trusting your own voice.

"d'ya wanna cum f'me, angel? make y'r pussy cry f'me? go on, use y'r other hand and play with that pretty clit, baby. nice 'nd tight circles, don't stop until you cum, mkay?"

you did exactly as he instructed, body writhing around the sheets as you pushed yourself over the edge as nagi continued praises. your sweet sounds and whimpers of his name was enough to make him shoot a load over his fist, replacing soft spoken words with heavy panting.

"can't fuckin' wait to be home, angel. don' even know if i can wait, might have t' drag you to the airplane bathroom 'nd show ya jus' how much 've missed you,"

[skbeaumont]

Texas Heat | Joel x Reader

Chapter 4 – The Barbeque

Series masterlist

Chapter Summary: Saturday brings a barbeque, a whole lot of flirting, and a perfect storm of tension that might just push you and Joel to the brink of something new. Rating: Mature Tags/warnings: flirting, sexual tension, smut, age difference (reader is 25, Joel is 37), AU!No outbreak. Word Count: 3.1k

Taglist: @mysterialee@amyispxnk @ghostofzion-blog

The Texas heat is almost unbearable even when you wake at just past seven the next morning. Laying in bed,  you can still feel the ghost of Joel’s hand against your jaw, the gentle way his fingers tangled in your hair, the delicate fan of his breath mingling with yours. The memory keeps you in bed a little longer, has you pressing your own hand beneath the waistband of your shorts. You come hard to the thought of Joel’s expression as he looked at you from the doorway of the garage, the intoxicating pull of his eyes. You wonder how his fingers – that trailed so dexterously across your cheek not twelve hours ago – would feel pressed against your core, if they would dip inside you, laying pleasure upon pleasure as he watched you with that same dark, intense expression.

Eventually, you force yourself to get up and dress. You pull on the bikini your brought with you – white, with sculped edges and long ties that you double knot – and then don your favourite sundress, one that you’ve been saving for a special occasion. Examining yourself in the mirror, you can’t help but feel a little nervous, your stomach squirming uncomfortably. Last night, Joel had been seconds from kissing you, his hands tangled in your hair, pulling you up to meet his hungry lips. And God, the thought of it makes your toes curl, your thighs press together.

But there’s anxiety there, too.

It’s been months since you broke up with your boyfriend back home, the same one you’d been with throughout your entire time at university and the gap years between. The thought of starting something new with someone else feels terrifying in so many ways. What if Joel decides he doesn’t like you, or want you? What if he’s hesitant, or unsure, and it ruins all of the hard work you’ve done over the past few months, convincing yourself you’re deserving of love and affection?

You close your eyes against the image in the mirror, refusing to let yourself fall into old habits of self-criticism, and take a long, deep breath, letting it out slowly. You focus on thinking about Joel’s easy smile and his calloused, warm hands. You think about his broad, strong shoulders and the dark lock of hair that always falls across his forehead. The nerves die away a little, replaced by anticipation and excitement. You open your eyes again, look yourself in the eye and repeat the words Diana said to you on Wednesday. “Flirt your ass off.”

Five hours later finds you and Danny lugging a slightly rusty beer cooler over to the Cuthberts’. Theirs is the biggest lot on the road, a sprawling house surrounded by a flawlessly mown front lawn and backed by huge garden, complete with a patio – almost certainly larger than your entire flat back in London – and a tiled, picture-perfect swimming pool. You let out a low whistle as you and Danny round the house into the garden, taking in the two-tiered, five-grill barbeque in the centre of the patio and the array of chairs, sofas and tables laid out on the decking. There are no other guests yet, but you find yourself searching Joel out anyway, peering around the potted palm trees and oversized plant pots.

Mr Cuthbert, a large, jovial man in a bright Hawaiian print shirt, slaps Danny convivially on the back and introduces himself – “call me John”, he says, offering you a wink which you steadfastly ignore.

You and Danny put the beer cooler in a shady part of the patio and help John fill it with the beers from his drinks fridge – a separate appliance than his usual fridge, he proudly informs you as he hands you bottles of wine, premixed cocktails, sodas, and beers. By the time you’re done, a few guests have trickled into the garden, all carrying more drinks and food.

Slowly, the garden and deck fills up with neighbours and friends. You stand near the kitchen in the shade, leaning against the cool stone of the house, your eyes fixed on the gate, watching with anticipation as each newcomer arrives. You hear Sarah before you see her or Joel, catch the end of a shout of her infectious laughter as the two of them come into the garden.

Joel’s in tinted sunglasses that reflect the garden back at you, his hair brushed back from his forehead, dark and thick and streaked with a few errant greys. He’s wearing a loose-fitting linen Henley and a pair of shorts that show off the tanned vee of collarbone and chest, the bottom of his thick thighs. He says something to Sarah, points her in the direction of a group of similarly-aged kids and she darts off, leaving Joel to survey the garden. When his eyes find yours – or rather when his sunglasses reflect your own figure – he breaks into an easy sideways grin, holds up one hand in greeting.

You told yourself you would play it cool, ease into the flirting, but before his hand has even returned to his side you’re darting towards him, sidestepping a toddler and two middle aged women. He meets you halfway across the garden, taking large steps that cover the distance to the deck easily.

“Hey,” You say when you meet.

“Hi.” He replies, and he draws his sunglasses up off his face to rest on the top of his head, his smile crinkling the corners of his eyes as he does.

“I’m disappointed,” You say, gesturing at his shorts and shirt, “I was promised a toolbelt and workmen’s boots.”

He laughs at this, a deep, throaty chuckle that comes right from his chest.

“Toolbelt’s just at home, if you want me to go and get it.”

“Maybe later.” You reply, smirking.

“You want a drink?”

“Sure.”

You follow him to the beer cooler and watch as Joel plucks two bottles out of the icy water, opens the tops with one hand. The simple gesture shouldn’t be so goddamn attractive, shouldn’t make blood rush to your cheeks and heat pool in your belly, but it is and it does. He hands you one of the beers, and your fingers brush his warm knuckles as you take it. The corner of Joel’s mouth twitches in response, his eyes flashing in the bright sunlight. You can feel the blush hot on your face just from these tiny, pathetic touches, slick already pooling in your core, dampening the bikini bottoms under your sundress. You clear your throat and Joel nods to a quiet corner of the deck where a loveseat lies unoccupied. You follow him to it, sink into its plush cushioning. Joel sits beside you. He's so broad that he takes up more than half of the sofa, his shoulder bumping against yours as he settles. You both look out over the garden, at where Sarah and the other kids are having an intense discussion in a tight cluster.

“She really enjoyed that math lesson you gave her,” he says, musingly, “won’t stop goin’ on about it. Never seen her so keen to be over at Connie’s before, either.”

“She’s really bright.” You reply, turning to him.

“No idea where she gets that from.”

You roll your eyes at him, cross one leg over the other, watch as Joel follows the movement with his eyes, drags his gaze up your bare thigh to the hem of your dress.

“’s a nice dress,” he says, the drawl of his accent stealing away the first syllable.

“Thanks. I’d been saving it for a special occasion.”

“This a special occasion?” He asks, gaze flicking from your bare thigh to your face, the trace of a mischievous smile playing on his plush lips.

“You tell me.” You reply, letting your own mouth curve into a grin.

There’s a splash from the pool and you both turn to see Sarah emerging from the water, face cracked into a wide smile as her friends jump in after her. Joel shakes his head, laughing.

“Always gotta be the first one in.” He says, and you laugh too, watch as Sarah splashes another girl.

“You going in?” You ask, as a few adults start sitting at the side of the pool to dip their toes in and slowly climbing in after the kids. “Not a chance.” He says, “I ain’t a swimmer.”

“That’s a shame.” You say, standing up and pulling the sundress up over your head, “Would’ve been nice to have some company.”

Joel’s eyes travel over your body, taking in the curves of your breasts and waist, the swathes of bare skin. His gaze makes you feel self-conscious, but his expression is awe-struck, reverent, like he’s looking at something sacred. His pupils are blown wide despite the bright sunlight, cheeks reddening. The hand clutching his beer is white-knuckled, the other twitching where it rests in his lap like he wants to reach out and trace the path of your curves. He swallows, Adam’s apple rippling in this throat.

“I’ll be jus’ fine watchin’, darlin’.” He says, his voice hoarse.

You waste no time sliding off your sandals and darting towards the water. It’s immature, maybe, but you’ve never been able to resist diving headfirst into water. The pool is cool, fresh: perfect in the intense Texan heat. Sarah giggles as you resurface, splashes you with a back hand. You spend the next half-hour messing about with her, having handstand competitions and lying on your backs to float idly. Every time you let your gaze wander to where Joel is sitting, he’s watching you, his expression intense. He looks away the first few times you catch him, but after the fourth time he lets himself watch you, raises his beer to his lips and takes a sip. When he draws the bottle away, there’s a droplet on his lip. His tongue darts out to catch it, and you have to press your legs together in the water to dull the ache. This man, you think, watching him wipe his mouth with the back of one large hand, veins standing out on his toned forearms, is going to be the death of me.

After a few more minutes you’re starting to feel the cold, fingertips wrinkling in the water. You float over to the side of the pool and push yourself up onto the side. Droplets run down your stomach and legs as you stand up, goosebumps rising in their wake. You turn to look for where you left your bag and towel, but suddenly warmth is engulfing you, a soft, fluffy towel wrapped around your shoulders.

“Here,” Joel’s voice from behind you, his hands on your shoulders, draping the towel over you.

“Thanks.”

He steps back, lets his hands fall back to his sides.

“Water nice?” He asks, as you start to pat yourself dry.

“Refreshing,” You reply, looking up into his face.

“Looked it.” He’s standing close to you in the busyness of the garden, people milling around you both.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Looked… good.” He swallows again, tendons in his neck shifting. You want to put your lips to the flesh there, bite down onto rough skin, lick the stubble covering his jaw.

“I should go and get changed,” you say, nodding towards the house.

You step around him, start towards the kitchen door, turning to look behind you as you pick up your bag from where you left it by the beer cooler. Your eyes meet and the heat in his is almost palpable, rolling off of him in waves. You feel his gaze follow you as you step through the door into the cool air of the kitchen. Inside, you find the Cuthbert’s downstairs bathroom, shut the door behind you and lean back against it, your head spinning, heart pounding.

By the time you’ve changed back into your sundress, food is being served. You take a paper plate and let John load it up with chicken and a burger from the grill, then go and find a seat at a table with Danny, Connie, Joel and Sarah. You slide onto the bench next to Joel, letting your thigh brush against his and offering him a chaste smile when he raises a single eyebrow in response.

“How’s work, Joel?” Danny asks, swiping a blob of ketchup from his cheek.

“Oh, fine, thanks. Busy, at the moment.”

“Tommy alright? Not been getting into any more trouble?”

Joel laughs at this, shaking his head as he replies, “No more’n usual.”

Danny offers an understanding nod in response, and Sarah giggles, catching your eye across the table.

The rest of the afternoon passes in a happy, hazy buzz of food and conversation. Joel remains beside you, your legs pressed together on the bench seat. At some point, as Danny regales you all with a story of a traffic incident he witnessed last week, Joel stretches out, raising his hands over his head. When he brings them down, he lays his arm along the back of the bench behind you. You lean ever so slightly into him, imagining how it would feel if he slipped his arm down from the wood onto your shoulders. When you lean your head back to look up at the clear sky, you let it rest on his forearm, feel the heat of him seep through the hair at the nape of your neck through to your skin. The garden has started to empty now; the sky is slowly turning a pale, picture-perfect pink as the evening draws in. Danny lets out a long, steady sigh and pushes himself to his feet.

“We should get back to Nana,” he says to Connie, who nods and stands, “but you stay on as long as you like.” He adds to you, helping Connie pull on her cardigan.

You and Joel wave them off. Sarah leaves too, tired from the day, a little bored now the other teenagers and kids have left.

“Shouldn’t stay too much longer,” you say, looking around at where Mrs Cuthbert is collecting glasses up.

“No,” Joel agrees, but neither of you move.

His arm is still across the back of the bench, your neck now leaning against it. He flexes his hand, lets the tips of his thick fingers trace the skin on your bare shoulder, pulling up the strap of you sundress where it’s fallen down. The feeling of his hands on you is exhilarating and you shift in your seat, subconsciously begging him to keep touching you, to let his hand trace your shoulder to your collarbone, to dip down beneath the neckline of your dress to your bare breasts. He doesn’t, of course – there are still plenty of people in the garden – but he does leave his fingers where they are, just resting against your shoulder. Minutes pass. The tension between you seems to be building irreversibly, all the flirtatious banter and playful teasing from earlier gone, replaced by heavy silence and a kind of buzz in the air that makes the hairs stand up on the back of your neck.

Joel clears his throat after maybe ten minutes, runs his free hand up the leg of his shorts, wiping his palm which, if he’s feeling anything like you, is sweaty with a heady combination of anticipation and nervous energy.

“Should get back.” He says, his voice low, face turned to you so that the words are said against the shell of your ear.

“Yeah,”

This time, you both move as one. You stand, slipping the strap of your bag over your shoulder as you do, while Joel picks up his sunglasses from the table and slides them into the vee of his Henley. You both call hasty goodbyes to the Cuthberts, thanking them for the food and hospitality. And then you’re leaving the garden, stepping out of sight of the deck into the small alley between the house and the fence. You’ve hardly taken more than two or three steps before you both break.

Joel rounds on you as you grab him by his shirt. Crowding you against the wall of the house, he fists a hand in your hair and draws your mouth up to his. The kiss is frenzied, passionate right from the moment your lips meet. He groans from somewhere deep in his chest, licks his tongue into your mouth, his teeth grazing your lips, bruising them. His hand caresses your jaw, fingers spanning your face, cradling it as he kisses you. It’s intoxicating. You reach up to thread your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, pushing yourself up onto tiptoes to card them through his curls. You moan into his mouth, let your tongue lick into his mouth, his stubble tickling your face, harsh and scratchy in contrast to his soft lips.

He pulls back, rests his forehead against yours, both of you panting.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” He whispers, leaning down to place open mouthed kisses on the underside of your jaw. “I can’t stop thinking about you, I can’t sleep, I can’t concentrate.”

“Joel…” It’s all you can say as he nips at your collarbone, runs his fingertips down your sides, hands searching out the flesh of your ass, pulling you to him, bending so that he can slide one thick thigh between yours. The movement brings his hips flush with yours, the line of his hardening cock pressing into your stomach, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. You grind against him, pressing your cunt into his thigh, seeking out friction. He hisses into your open mouth as he drags his hips against yours, cock trapped between your rutting bodies – a hot, thick line against you.

“Tell me to stop and I will,” he breathes, nipping and pecking at your lips, dragging a hot hand up your side to squeeze your breast.

“Please don’t stop,” You reply, gasping as his fingers find the hard nub of your nipple and pinch, pleasure coursing through you like adrenaline.

The whole thing is ridiculous: you’re pressed against the wall of your neighbour’s house, Joel’s hands mapping out the curves of your body as he kisses you. Anyone could see, anyone could come round the path from the garden but neither of you seem to be capable of caring. The dam has burst and it’s all you can do to cling to each other, rocking your hips together, seeking out friction. It’s only when you slide a hand between your bodies, seeking out the hard line of Joel’s cock that he pulls back. His lips are swollen, eyes entirely black in the low light.

“We can’t do this,” he says, “not here.”

And then you’re both laughing, the absurdity of the entire situation overcoming you. When you calm down, still breathing heavily, Joel draws your face between his hands and presses another kiss to your lips.

“I want to,” he says, stroking his thumb along your cheekbone, “Jesus, I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more.”

“Me neither,”

“Sarah’s staying at Tommy’s on Friday.” He says, “Come over. I’ll cook dinner, or take you out. I’ll treat you right, like you deserve.”

“Friday?” You say, “That’s a long way away.”

You push yourself onto tiptoes to kiss him again, draw his bottom lip into your mouth and he groans against you, his hips canting forward so that his cock drags against your hip.

He pulls away, rasps, “Shit, darlin’. You’re making me crazy.”

“I’ll be over on Tuesday, for Sarah.” You say, “I’ll stay until you get back from work.”

“You make it really hard to say no.”

“Then don’t say no.”

“Okay. But I’m taking you for dinner on Friday too. Don’t say I don’t know how to treat a woman.”

“Joel Miller, I don’t think anyone could ever say that.” And you press another kiss against his lips, smiling into it.

When you get home a few minutes later, your lips bruised and your head buzzing, there’s already a text in your inbox.

I’ll leave the toolbelt on for Tuesday. J