#just chapter one two etc. :P

[rhys-ravenfeather]

A moment of silence for the days where I could actually come up with creative/clever titles for my fanfic chapters.

[orcelito]

of all things, seeing goro and sumi interact makes me wanna work on the next ladue chapter more than anything else the past like 2 weeks

Wild

[imaginarypasta]

one of the things i’ve noticed that changes between this series and the last is the newfound emphasis on diplomacy & decorum. i do understand why, both in how the narrative changes w the introduction of new ideas and frameworks as well as how it might want to adapt to have its own voice, themes, etc. but gone are the days of yes-anding oneself into strange situations and in are those of yet another scene highlighting the importance of a letter of introduction—and that was personally a huge reason why i liked the original series so much. i don’t even mind like diplomacy as a narrative device when it’s equipped in interesting ways but when it’s constant introductions to new characters that go relatively similarly every time & a very clear narrative voice insisting that original solution wouldn’t work when it’s 1. more interesting to me personally and 2. not even working any better practically, then that starts to get super boring

[hellishjoel]

cherry thrill | lights

9.2k / pairing: daddy dom tattoo artist!joel miller x sub virgin f!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | notifications blog | ko-fi chapter summary: your tattoo artist, joel miller, takes your virginity. chapter warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), no outbreak, implied age gap, swearing, virginity loss, dom&sub dynamics (/not lg), size kink, praise kink, degradation kink, daddy kink, innocence kink, corruption kink, swearing, dirty talk, pet names (princess, bunny, baby girl, sweetheart, etc.), oral (m&f receiving), fingering, protected p in v, joel talks you through it, protective!joel, slight pov switching, reader is described as having no tattoos or piercings, as well as hair, but otherwise no physical description, no use of y/n series summary: Trust and devotion. Ink meets innocence. Your tattoo artist, Joel Miller, shows you what it really means to give up control. Reeling from the loss of your job, you’re running out of options, until a passing comment from Joel and a video camera give you just the right idea. A/N: this was supposed to be a one shot but just like everything else I try to write, I expand on the characters too much for it not to become a series. also, thank you for 2,000 followers, I promise to do something soon to show my appreciation <3 I'm bad at giving thanks and receiving attention so anyway - dividers by @firefly-graphics (thank you, daisy!)

During your first consultation, there was something in the air. 

Glances that lasted a few seconds too long, a charged energy replicating that of two strong magnets.  You stand frozen in a dark office down the hall from the shop’s main entrance. The walls are painted black. A gallery wall displays different art and posters in gold frames. There’s a large red neon sign with your tattoo artist’s initials, J.M. 

Joel Miller. 

You sit opposite of him, leg anxiously bouncing and nails subconsciously piercing the chair’s leather arms as he listens silently to your request before his mind starts to work. It doesn’t take much time to draw up an example or two with your guided tweaks and fixes. 

Other than the scribble of a graphite pencil, silence falls over you both. And observation takes over. 

Joel surrounds himself with scattered drawings on loose paper that litter his desk. You watch the way his eyes screw inward to focus on the sketch he is drawing up. A small vein protrudes from his temple, his jaw shifts from side to side with tension. 

He’s a blunt sort of handsome. With harsh edges and lines, jaded and carved with precision like precious marble. It makes your pulse jump a bit in your neck and wrist. 

You think your first tattoo should be something special, especially since you’ve waited so long to pull the trigger. He was a bit intimidating like you imagined a tattoo artist to be, what with his brooding demeanor and how he looked you up and down upon taking one step inside his parlor. 

Virgin. 

That’s what he called your skin, untouched by any ink or piercings. 

He didn’t know that it described you down to your core. No one had popped your cherry, taken your virginity, made you theirs. Untouched.

Now, half an hour later and sitting anxiously in his back office, he finishes drawing up the sketch and asks about the precise placement you had in mind. 

“I was thinking here,” you mindlessly point to a spot on your upper thigh. There was a level of secrecy to it, in case any future employers cared about that sort of shit. 

You can’t help the way your skin vibrates under his touch, when he aids you in taking off your bottoms and runs his calloused palms up the smooth skin of your thighs. 

You shakily exhale as he warms you. 

You definitely don’t let yourself fantasize that he’s feeling you up, or even think about wanting him to explore every inch of your body. You know he’s just doing his job. 

But the way his eyes flick up to yours when he feels the goosebumps he knows he’s created is otherworldly. Like he knows you want him to fuck you. The way your muscles twitch under the warmth of his palm, feeling pliant under his touch. Fuck. 

His eyes gleam as his mouth forms into a barely-there smirk. 

There was no point in playing coy. Your body changed at the contact and Joel knew it. 

It was damn near degrading the way he let you simmer. It set a light inside of you no one had before. So that’s when you knew you’d let him, Joel Miller, take your virginity. 

It would be no easy task. You didn’t know how to pursue him, or anyone for that matter. Maybe if you did, you wouldn’t have said virginity. 

You try not to stare for too long, but even with his gruff demeanor and silence being second nature to him, he was handsome. A rugged sort of handsome with different facial piercings. 

A septum in his nose highlighted its aquiline structure. And a small hoop in his right eyebrow, with greys tickling through like pretty streaks in the hair. It made him look deliciously too old for you. Perhaps that’s what you enjoyed most, though. He was no amateur. 

The moment his fingers dipped into your flesh to work on your tattoo's placement, you knew he felt it, too. Supple under his touch. Squishy. Something he could sink his teeth into. Something that obeyed. 

“You prepared for the pain, sweetheart?”

His southern drawl is sweet like honey, deep and husky nonetheless. 

“I think so.” 

Your response is meek. It’s your wavering nerves from having him so close and unsure what the feeling of being tattooed will be like. Joel looks for certainty instead. He insists on it. 

“Need ya t’tell me. Not that you think, that you know.”

“I’m sorry. I know so.”

Joel squeezes the back of your thigh fondly, a proud little smile twitching at the edges of his mouth. “Good girl.”

The praise alone was enough to make your thighs sticky with arousal. Joel sent you home that day with an ache between your legs that your fingers had to fix. And you thought about him the entire time. 

How his cold tongue piercing would feel against the warmth of your clit. Holding you with his strong, protective arms swirled with black ink. How his staggering dark eyes would look into yours as he fucks you. 

But thinking about him wasn’t enough. 

You tried to string out the process, anything you could do to fix more time with him. Anything to get his tough palms on your skin. 

You fiddled with different placements, opting to show a little skin as you rid yourself of your top and pointed to your ribs during your next appointment. 

A breath hitches in your throat as he eyes your bra's innocent pink color. Lacy and pretty. Delicate. He clears his throat and runs his fingers along your side, evidence of his touch causing an effect on you displayed with more goosebumps. Your body could simply not hide the attraction you felt towards him. 

“Would hurt. A lot. The ribs move every time you breathe, which makes the tattooing process more painful.” Joel gently cups your side with his large palm and squeezes your ribs, holding you in place as you shakily breathe with the hold he has on you. “Can’t tell ya where to place it, can only advise. Just don’t want such a pretty girl to shed any tears.” 

That’s when you knew you could trust him. That even a man as hardened as himself could treat you with such care. 

He excuses himself for a moment, opting for more transfer paper and leaving you topless in his private office. 

Your ears were ringing, you could hear the quickening beat of your heart. You slowly inch off the portable tattoo table, glancing around Joel’s dark academia-style office. 

He’s an enigma, you think, the more you look at his surroundings. Quiet but dark, you knew he was concealing a hidden desire. You hope to unlock it. That he’ll trust you enough just as you trust him. 

Articles of clothing start to drop to the floor, one by one. You knew you’d be ambushing him; you didn’t want to scare Joel. So you left yourself in your soft pink-colored bra and panty set. You thought it was classy and cute. Not too forward, but sweet. Definitely planned out, you hope he doesn’t notice. 

All your confidence quickly disappears as soon as he comes back in through the door. You could feel your heart slowly sink to your stomach, your lips parting to come up with some sort of reasoning. 

“I-I’m sorry,” is all you can think to say. Joel is stilled at the entrance of his office, door still ajar as he blankly stares at the delicate angel standing in the middle of his office. 

He clears his throat and finally closes the door, leaving the two of you in silence. You can’t read his expression. 

“What do ya think you’re doin’?” He asks, sweet southern drawl dripping with tension as his heavy boots slowly make their way closer to you. 

You can only shake your head, unsteady hands concealing as much of your body as possible. You decide to face the mirror, keeping your back to him. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Miller, I was just-” Lie. “I was just looking at your full-length mirror to see other placement ideas.” 

Joel merely shakes his head, a knowing look in his eyes. “I can tell when you’re lyin’ t’me, baby girl. You wanna try tellin’ me the truth now?”

His tone only makes the ache in your core grow with desire as your pulse quickens under his eyeline. 

You feel embarrassed, heat coursing through your body and making you tingle as his stare lingers selfishly, basking in the glory of your figure. You watch with want in the reflection as his eyes stare at the curves of your hips and your ass. A handful, he probably thinks. 

“Come on, sweetheart,” he coaxes, moving closer and enveloping you in his musky pine and whiskey scent. It’s almost knowing what he says next. “Tell me what y’want.” 

You swallow the lump protruding in your throat before you decide to be honest with him. Like you said, you could trust him. You play with your fingers and pick at the skin by your nails.

“I want you.” You say barely above a whisper. 

Joel simply shakes his head, takes another impossible step closer, and cranes his head down to hear you better. His lips and coarse beard hairs tickle at the shell of your ear. 

Your eyes close shyly as he speaks again amid your silence. 

“Say it again, baby. Can’t hear ya.” His toned front meets your back, forcing a whimper past your lips. 

You work up the nerve to take a glance at the two figures in the gold-framed mirror. Perfect opposites. Young, beautiful, a little inexperienced. Older, handsome, sure as hell looks like he knows what he’s doing. 

His height looms over you. His eyes are an unknown shade of obsidian and he’s radiating a comforting warmth. Your hand reaches for his, only able to look him in the eyes through the glass as you guide his hand to your hip. 

Your thumb rolls across the faded tattoo on the backside of his hand. There used to be a cross there, but it looks to be covered up by some sort of python now. With a shaky sigh, you try again. “I want you, Mr. Miller. I want you to take my virginity.” 

You’ve prepared yourself to hear his laughter, a snickering, degrading comment of disbelief. You felt ready to experience shame. But you were wrong. 

Joel places his pointer finger under your chin, using his other hand to guide you in his hold to turn and face him. His thumb grazes over your lower lip as he guides your head to tilt up and look at him properly. Your soft eyes meet his lust-driven ones and your heart surges at the sight. 

You’ve never seen a man so hungry. 

“You want me to take your virginity, little bunny?” He hums seductively. Suddenly, you don’t feel so doomed. It’s placed with a little bit of eagerness now. You wanted your spoils. 

“Yes. Want you to do whatever you desire with me, I’ll do anything you want.” You sound like a devoted cult member, but the energy you feel is undeniable. You’re sure you’ve soaked through your panties at this point. 

Slowly but surely, Joel begins to nod. He’s mulled it over and he’s made up his mind. 

“Whatever I desire, huh?” He tuts almost degradingly. Your nod of enthusiasm makes his blood rush. 

He hesitates, untrusting of his own words. 

“Want you to call me Daddy,” He starts haphazardly, gauging your reaction. “Think you can do that, sweet girl?”

Your wide eyes soften, a notch of confusion knotting your eyebrows. 

“You- what?” 

“Want you to call me daddy. Want you to be a good little girl for me and hop up on that desk. Can ya do that for me, princess?” His chin juts up and signals toward his office desk. 

The swirling in your stomach just won’t stop. 

“Go on now.” His orotund voice projects his instructions. You back up a few paces until you feel the cool metal of his desk hit your backside, slowly moving to sit on it with hidden excitement and a shiver up your spine. 

You do want to be good, if there’s anything you want in this world right now, it’s to play along and be good for him. Knowing he would take care of you was making you leak. 

His fingertips delicately touch your skin, starting at your wrists and moving upwards to the straps on your bra. He’s intimidating to look at, so you fixate on something behind him. But it doesn’t help when he clouds your vision. Even his aroma, from the smoke of his cigarettes to the musky spruce cologne, was putting you in a tailspin. 

You don’t anticipate the way your body moves for him. His hands skim to the back of your bra, and your spine straightens. It makes the right side of his mouth twitch up into a smirk. 

“Nervous?” He belittles.

Your long lashes innocently flutter, you think you might be doing it on purpose. You sort of like playing along. 

“A little… Daddy.” You test cautiously, the word tangling on your tongue. But it’s unforgettable the way his eyes light up at the name. You find yourself already willing to do whatever it takes to recreate that signature look of his. 

Joel hums appreciatively, thumb making minuscule circles over your chin. “I’ll take care of ya. Ya know that. Or else you wouldn’t have chosen me.”

All you can do is nod. Because he knows that your selection process was a real thing. You had danced around it once during your first consultation when he asked if you had a boyfriend. All you could feel was heat rising to the back of your neck, shy eyes evading his warm brown orbs. 

“No, definitely not.” 

“What’d’ya mean definitely not? You’re a pretty girl.”  

You shrug in a noncommittal way. “I’ve never had to really worry about stuff like… boyfriends. Or girlfriends. Any of that sort of stuff.” 

His eyes flicked up to yours in an instant, a mutual understanding of your underlying words. “I see. I understand, angel.” 

Joel works your bra off with one hand, you gasp as you feel the material loosen around your body. His opposite hand taps at the top of your thigh. You’re all too aware you are eagerly sitting half-naked on his desk. 

“Open.” He directs, voice laced with smoke. 

You nip at your lower lip and slowly inch your clamped-shut thighs open for him. He instantly makes eye contact with the wet, dark little circle that’s ruining the pristine innocence of your panties. 

He decides not to make fun of it, but it’s truly a compliment. Your adoration for him. “This all for me, angel?”

You work up a few quick nods. Now that he was so close, you wanted him to hurry the hell up.

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?” 

You feel heat tingle at the sides of your neck. This would be your first time really talking like this with someone. He made it feel safe to talk so dirty. To try, to learn. 

“Yes, daddy.”

You can’t deny how proud you feel to be the reason a certain warmth brightens in his eyes and on his smirk. You did that, you pleased him. Little did you know how he’d thank you for it. 

“You said you’re a virgin? Hard to believe.”

A shaky sigh leaves your parted lips as his warm palms slowly pull your bra down, revealing your breasts to him. “Just never found anyone I really trusted or liked enough.” 

He mutters something quiet in understanding, all too distracted by how damn pretty you look. 

Joel is silently observing your body, he can’t help but want to touch the delicate flower in front of him. A gasp leaves your parted lips as his calloused hands come up and cup your breasts. He starts to squeeze, and a happy little whimper leaves your mouth with a small smile. 

“I like that.” You tell him, hoping it improves your chances that he’ll do it again. Which he does. 

“Good.” He compliments, pinching your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, turning them into peaks that send electricity down your spine. 

A sweet and experimental moan leaves your lips. Joel stands between your parted legs and you feel his erection for the first time against your skin. You can tell by the shape protruding through his pants that he’s a large man, already thick and swollen for your taking. 

“No one’s ever been inside of you?” He damn near growls, raising an eyebrow after the beat he offers you to answer.  

You shake your head again. “I’ve tried my fingers, but I’m sure it’s not the same.” 

A scoffy little breath echoes out of his nose. “No, not quite. Lay back for me, bunny.” His hands release your breasts, pebbled nipples left abandoned as you slowly move down onto your elbows and then onto your back. 

There was a sudden peak of anxiety, not being able to fully see him. But perhaps this was the point, to fully surrender yourself under his touch. To trust him. 

His rough hands grip the sides of your panties, slowly pulling them down your legs. He gets about halfway down your thighs before you quickly sit up on your elbows again. 

“Joel?” Your voice anxiously chirps. 

He stops, eyes flicking up to you from your cunt still concealed by your sticky thighs. 

“We can stop,” He says before you can explain. “S’okay if you’re not ready.”

“No, no, that’s not it, God, that’s not it,” You rid his worries, feeling your chest quickly rise and fall under his all of a sudden protective gaze. 

“I uh-... I know you don’t owe me this, we’re not together, but… can you talk me through what you’re doing? I want to learn, and I can tell you’re experienced, I know it’s a lot to ask but-”

“S’not too much to ask.” He quickly intervenes, gently taking your hands and guiding you to sit up fully once more. Your soft eyes graze over all the layers he’s still wearing, and suddenly you’re reminded how naked you are. 

“Use your voice, sweet girl. Can tell you wanna say somethin’. This is your time.” 

The sentiment means a lot. It is your time, your first time, and just because you’re an adult doesn’t mean it should be any less special. So you decide to make it your time, the way you want it. 

“Can you take your clothes off too? And is the door locked?” You trail off upon seeing his amused smirk. 

“Go on.” He nods again, letting you list your needs and wants. 

“And can you kiss me, please, Daddy?” You ask more softly than the rest of your demands. You know that kissing is romantic, but you think it might help settle you. Pull you back from drifting away, keep you here with him.  

He watches you for a moment, a bemused grin on his lips before he gently cradles your face. “The door’s locked. I’ll take my clothes off. And I’ll kiss you as many times as you like as long as you keep askin’ that nice.” 

For the first time during your interaction, your face lights up with a smile. It’s small, it’s thankful, but it’s there. There was an undeniable connection you shared with Joel, it made you feel safe under his curious eyes. 

With his large hands cupping either side of your jaw, he leans down while simultaneously guiding your chin up as your lips meet. It’s gentle at first, soft. His mouth tastes like a cigarette, it’s oddly intoxicating and you find yourself wanting more.

You know how to make out at the very least. So when you gently bite down and tug on Joel’s lower lip, both of your eyes open as a throaty little groan escapes him. 

He kisses you a little harder this time, hands falling to your hips as he pulls you closer so your fronts align. The force makes your lips part and Joel takes the opportunity to let his tongue invade your mouth. He moves fluently to explore, both of you falling into a sweet lull as your bodies meld into one. 

Inadvertently, he hooks his pointer finger into your panties halfway down your thighs and finishes pulling them to your ankles. They land somewhere on the floor in a pile of your other clothes. 

Unbeknownst to you until he took his hands off your body to pluck open his belt do you realize how you were on fire for him. 

You wonder while he pushes down his trousers and tugs off his shirt if he’s ever slept with a virgin before. If you’d be his version of a first time just like he’d be yours. No, not his first ever, you weren’t that foolish. But maybe you could teach him a thing or two as well. 

There’s no way to mask your surprise when he pushes down his boxer briefs, the dark band revealing all that was underneath. His half-hard cock raises towards his stomach, rosiness fluttering at his tip. You were pleasantly surprised to find that it was a little hooked, deliciously curving upwards. 

With a new sense of confidence, your hand reaches forward and you start to shift your hand up and down his length. Joel’s quiet grunt shatters your thoughts. He gently cups the side of your neck and twirls a piece of hair around his finger. 

Joel takes your hand off his cock and you worry you’ve done something wrong already. He holds it palm-side up and nods encouragingly. “Spit on your hand, baby.”

He nods after you look up at him with shy, blown-out eyes. But you obey. 

You spit into your hand and let him guide your hand back around his member. That seems a lot better. He glistens with your spit and you have the urge to keep shocking him with your confidence.

You lean forward and directly spit onto his tip, looking up to see his approving little smirk. 

“Fuck- That’s- mmm, that’s good, angel,” he sighs with a certain happiness, loving the feeling of getting his cock taken care of. “Feels real good.” 

The praise sets off a million pistons in your brain, feeling yourself scrabble off the desk,  dropping to your knees as you continue to pump him. 

He’s heavy in your hand, and you gently lean forward to give sweet kisses to the tip. You swallow the lump in your throat before parting your lips, taking the head of his cock into your mouth. He’s salty, musky, but not dirty. In fact, he was rather well-kempt in his nether regions. 

You force yourself deeper and Joel already has his hands in your hair to pause you. 

“Woah, slow your roll, pretty girl.” He says with shortened breaths. Heat floods your body, you hate being so new to this. 

Joel continues to stroke your hair back, gently gliding a thumb up your cheekbone before he cradles one side of your face. “I see you gettin’ all shy, I know this is your first time, but I’ll teach you the basics. And no one’s perfect on their first try, okay? So just get that thought outta your head now.”

Your chest swells at his eagerness to relax you, so you nod gently and lean in to kiss the base of his stomach in appreciation. The right side of his mouth tilts up as he swipes his thumb across your plump bottom lip, a silent thank you for the kiss. 

“You’re a real good girl, you know that?” A bigger smile breaks across your lips and you eagerly tug on his cock with eagerness. Joel sighs, already in defeat at how you’re willing to get it right for him, to learn, to listen. To obey. 

“You’re gonna wanna relax your jaw,” his fingers guide you, your lips parting and letting your jaw drop lower, lower, lower for him. “And the whole part is to suck, not just put your mouth on it, okay, peaches? So hollow your cheeks, no teeth, and only go as far as you feel comfortable.” 

You shake off your nerves and clear your throat, feeling your mouth fill with spit intended for him. You place your hands on the back of his thighs, feeling the dark hairs under the pads of your fingers. 

Slowly, you wrap your mouth around his tip once more. You swirl your tongue around him, adoring the way he hisses when you glide your tongue across the slit leaking a salty substance. 

Over the introduction, you try to take him down your throat properly. And he’s a mouthful, literally. He’s a lot. But you try to just enjoy that there’s no real pressure. 

A lot of saliva starts to build in your mouth, and you swallow it around him. You’re awestruck when he lets out a low moan, strong hands weaving through your hair and lightly tugging. Your eyes flutter up to him through your lashes, and he’s looking at you so deliciously. 

You can tell he wants to fuck your mouth, holding his hips back from really letting you have it. And maybe he could do that to you someday, but for now, today was slow. And Joel knew that too. 

Joel gently tucks your hair back, your lips suctioning around his length before he drags you back towards him, indicating for you to start moving, to bob your head. 

It takes a few tries, but you really feel yourself going further down his cock. You breathe through your nose, but it’s hard when you’re trying not to gag around him. Finally, after little to no error, you slip up. His tip unexpectedly hits the back of your throat and you gag around him.  Joel must feel your whole body tense with anxiety because he’s quick to gently hush and console you. Your eyes well up with tears, but your first instinct is to keep him inside your mouth and swallow around him. 

A long, low groan leaves Joel’s mouth, a compliment to your first big challenge. 

“Holy fuck,” he pants, weaving his fingers into your hair and fisting eagerly to keep himself grounded. “You’re doin’ so fuckin’ well, princess, you have no idea, fuck,” he grins. “Try using your hands on what you can’t take, come on, baby.” 

You can feel yourself physically gush at his compliments, your stomach swirling with a newfound desperation. To please. 

With new instructions, you work your hand at his base and pump up and down with the rhythm of your mouth. You worked on gently squeezing and releasing your hand, making Joel go slack-jawed as a husky groan leaves the back of his throat. Sucking and licking and bobbing your head in earnest, he’s already twitching in your mouth. 

“You’ve done this before baby,” his voice drips with a smirk, pulling yourself off for some deep breaths and a few desperate swallows. 

“Haven’t, promise, Joel,” You coo with a proud little smile, your voice thick and wrecked as you continue to pump his cock in the absence of your mouth. 

Joel lets your hair go and guides your hand off his cock before helping you up from the floor. 

Your face is obviously written with disappointment, you could have continued. You sort of wanted to continue despite the ache hanging around in your jaw. 

“You were gonna make me come, don’t wanna come yet, angel,” Joel pants weakly, ducking down and connecting your lips. You’re a little taken aback. Not by the kiss, but by the fact you already had him nearly ready to finish. 

“Really?” You murmur hopefully against his mouth, wishing he wasn’t just saying it to compliment you. 

The way that his features started to twitch and his tummy and chest fluttered with his jagged breathing, it would have been quite a sight to see him finish. Maybe he would have even done it right on your tongue. The thought alone gives you goosebumps. 

Your insides swirl as he licks inside of your mouth and gently runs his tongue along your bottom lip, moving you back towards his desk. You hop up without his instruction, feeling him smirk against your pouted mouth. 

“Now you’re gettin’ a hang of things.” He murmurs into your mouth, carrying on where he had left off before, sinking down to his own knees at the edge of the desk and positioning your feet to rest up on the edge. He seems to stare at the glistening arousal you’ve been creating for the last hour straight. 

That nervous feeling settles in your stomach, completely bare and open for him. A shocked gasp leaves your mouth, not prepared for him already to be diving into your pussy. 

The breadth of his tongue slowly swipes up the center of your core, purposely flicking off of your clit and making you yelp at the contact. His cold tongue piercing against your sensitive bundle made a shiver shoot up your spine. 

He gently smirks as he places a sweet kiss on the inside of your thigh. “You’re jumpy, kitten. Take a breath. Wanna make you feel real good.” 

You let out a shaky sigh and move off your elbows, back flat on his desk as your eyes slowly drift close. Then, as he starts to truly taste you, learning you and what you like, it’s unexpected how much you enjoy it. It never really dawned on you that some people truly enjoy eating pussy, but Joel Miller sure does. 

Your broken little whimpers and strung-out moans turn into writhing on his desk under him. He was such an expert, meticulously swirling his tongue around you and suckling your clit into his mouth. 

It didn’t take long for your fingers to wind up into his hair as his shoulders lay bracketed between your thighs. It was heavy, it was stomach-twisting, in fact, it was rolling through you like a storm. The it in question was your first oral orgasm. 

���J-Joel,” you gasp, your jaw dropping down as he slowly prods the tip of his finger at your entrance. 

“Need to get you ready for my cock, sweet girl, keep focusing on how good you feel,” he encourages. Your face pinches as his finger slowly sinks into your entrance, but you realize how grateful you are for all the extra spit and arousal Joel has provided. 

It doesn’t necessarily hurt, it’s a weird ache at first. But then his finger starts to slowly pump inside of you, and it’s a new craving. Especially with the way his tongue moves around your clit, the pistons in his brain firing all to figure out what you like. 

Do you like when he flicks your clit with his cold metal piercing?

“Ohmygod-” you gasp. 

Do you like when he swirls his naughty tongue around you in tight figure eights? 

“Joel, please,” you say, needing more. 

Did you like it most when he suckles around your sweet bud?

“Joel!” You cry out, tugging tighter at his hair, not sure if you want to tug him closer for more or push him away because it feels too good. 

“O-Oh, oh my god.” Lying still was a foreign thing to you now, all you could do was wiggle and grip your fingers into his hair, tugging harshly as he grunted against your core in enjoyment. 

He actually likes pleasing you, he likes tasting you! It’s a compliment without words as your eyes dip close and your head digs back into the desk.

Suddenly, your stomach starts to drop like you’re on a rollercoaster. You’re not unfamiliar with the feeling of an orgasm, but this, oral, it hits differently. 

“Fuck,” you curse unexpectedly, making Joel cock up an eyebrow as he glances up at you. All you can do is watch as his mouth suckles harder around you, his finger pumping faster and adding a second. 

Because if there’s anyone in this world that can break you out of your shell, Joel wants it to be him. 

Now you’re really aching for him,  wishing that it was his cock slotted between your walls, pushing you towards euphoria. 

“Know you wanna come for me angel,” his fingers quirk upwards in a come here motion, and a long, strung-out moan of his name leaves your lips.

God forbid any of the shop’s workers or clients hear you, but you can’t think of a singular reason to care right now. 

Your walls flex and squeeze around Joel’s two fingers, truly feeling the stretch as you come around his digits. It leaves you a whimpering mess on his desk, hot pants leaving your pretty lips. 

Joel is in heaven, lapping you up and moaning against your core as your clit starts to twitch with the overstimulation. His hands squeeze at the flesh of your thighs before he sits up and kisses up your body, his own lips meeting yours. He’s hungry, and you’re still bouncing back. But you want it so bad, and you’re so close to finally having it. 

“Joel, I’m ready.” You coo, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

He breathily laughs and pecks your lips once more, tasting your own arousal and making you feel warm inside. 

“Desperate for my cock, ain’t that right, pretty girl?” 

God, he was such a menace with his mouth. Your adorably shy grin is all the answer he needs. But you give him one anyway, because he likes when you talk like that with him. 

“Yes, daddy, I just wanna feel it already,” you try out, Joel’s lust-filled eyes meeting yours as white-hot heat spills into your stomach. 

“I’ll give it to ya, baby girl. Wanna give that tight little virgin pussy my cock, don’t want anyone else to have ya. Mine.” Joel huskily grunts, a choked moan leaving your lips. 

Joel reaches past your head and to the drawer on the other side of the desk. He jimmies it open and searches his hand around blindly. He flips open his wallet and pulls a small square foil package from the slot. 

Oh, duh, a condom. In all your excitement, you sort of forgot to be safe. But you’re glad he was prepared. 

You watch with adoration on your features as Joel lifts the condom to his lips, pearly teeth ripping the foil off but not hurting the condom. His other hand rests sweetly on your hip, thumb running soothing circles into your pretty skin. 

It’s a soothing feeling, one that he doesn’t have to do, but he does because he’s being considerate and maybe even a little protective. You gently lay your hand on his forearm, fingers tracing fresh black ink and older green ink on his arm’s sleeve. 

A shaky sigh leaves your lips as he uses both hands to glide the condom down his shaft. It’s nearly invisible, the way it’s so thin and tightly wrapped around his cock. Besides the band that rests at the very bottom of his shaft. He grumbles something incoherent, probably his annoyance with the fussing of the condom and how tight it probably felt around him.  

You take in a shaky breath and nod at him once he comes to rejoin your centers. 

“You’re sure you’re ready for this? Don’t wanna wait for someone y’love? Or trust? Or just... Anybody but me?” Joel’s face is pinched with genuine concern. 

You smile softly and gently cup his cheek. “I do trust you. It takes a lot of trust to allow someone to alter your body forever with a tattoo. So, you’re giving me a tattoo, and you’re taking my virginity. You’re sort of doubling down for me right now, honestly.” 

Joel flashes a genuine little smile. It’s the most you’ve said consistently all day with him, even with a little drip of sarcasm and wit. 

“Okay. But ya gotta say it.” He says more seriously. 

“I’m ready, Daddy. Want you to make me feel good. I know you can.” You can already feel yourself picking up his dirty talk. It makes your smile twitch as you gently grip both of his forearms, his hands spreading your thighs open for him. 

He enters the space, his heavy cock resting over your core and slowly slipping up and down your wet folds. 

You let out an unexpected little scoff as he grinds himself down against you, your arousal soaking the condom. He holds himself at his base and taps his tip down against your already throbbing clit, making you hiss out a desperate whine. 

“M’not usually this… gentle.” He admits through gritted teeth. You’re sort of shocked by that. Sure, he has a rough and tough exterior, but he’s treated you with such delicacy that you assumed he was like this all the time. 

“So, what are you usually like?” You pose, your breath hitching in your throat as one of his hands abandons your thighs and guides his tip from your clit to your entrance, up and down, several times. Your thighs twitch impatiently. Your entrance squeezes around nothing. 

“M’just... not this gentle,” is all he can say without breaking into a bemused smile. 

“Yeah? Maybe you can show me next time what you’re really like.” 

Joel playfully scoffs as his face starts to pierce with concentration. “Not sure if you can handle it, kitten.” 

“I’m sure I-” your words are cut off by a loud gasp, your lips parting as his tip penetrates your walls. You’re phased for a moment before you gulp and recollect yourself. You whimper, louder and louder as he pushes on, watching Joel move with such caution. 

He really is holding back, you think. You wonder what he’s like when he can just fuck how he pleases. 

“Baby,” Joel’s voice breaks your concentration. “Breathe.” 

A loud huff of air leaves your mouth that you hadn’t even realized you were holding in. The ache in your hips and core only builds with tension as Joel pushes on, his length and girth surely parting your tight walls. 

“So fuckin’- tight.” He says with gritted teeth, his fingers piercing into the delicate flesh of your outer thighs, making you whimper. 

“Joel,” you quietly cry for him, tears threatening to spill at the pain. It’s just- a lot. It’s a lot for your first time, and maybe you wouldn’t have signed up if you knew what he was packing, but in a weird way, you loved it. He felt made for you. 

“M’here, angel, look at me.” In all the excitement and overwhelming feelings of pain and pleasure, you hadn’t even noticed you were clenching your eyes closed. You slowly peek them open, greeted by his heavenly features. 

“There’s my girl.” He compliments, warmth and sweetness shooting through your body. 

“Fuck,” you say, your voice a bit wet as Joel comes down closer to aid you. He’s all the way in now, you can feel his balls flushed against your sopping wet cunt. 

The arousal helps, the condom sort of doesn’t but it’s fine, that’s life, you think. You’re torn between pain and pleasure. Honestly, you just feel so fucking full. 

He tells you between breathy pants that he would have used lube if he had any, but he didn’t, and he’s sorry, and his pretty voice starts to turn into static with how fucking good he feels inside of you. 

“You’re doing so good for me, angel,” he praises, sponging a few kisses along your cheeks and tasting your salty tears. You feel like some weak pathetic being under him. He’s been sweet, but you’re sure he’s just treating you like he found a wounded animal. 

“Move, Joel, please” you weakly demand, lassoing your arms around his neck and holding him close to you. 

“No.” He says through gritted teeth. “Just-” he pauses and takes a deep breath, knowing that you’re dealing with a million emotions right now as he’s trying to breathe around the death grip you have on his cock. “Just wait a minute, sweetheart, let yourself adjust.” 

A pouty, bratty sigh leaves your lips as you continue to blink away tears. You eventually nod and he only smiles adoringly as he returns to kiss at the tears.

Your senses are spiked. You can smell his cologne, feel each gristle of hair from his salt and pepper beard. It’s erotic how much more you can feel while at the edge of your emotions. 

One of your hands roams into his darling chocolate curls, instinctually going to gently scrape your nails delicately against his scalp. You’re sweetly surprised to hear him mutter a sweet little moan just for you against the shell of your ear. 

Your hands flutter across dark tattoos on his shoulders and arms, your blurry vision trying to make out the shapes as you trace a pretty angel on his upper bicep. 

Joel Miller was inside of you. Joel Miller has taken your virginity. The hottest man you’ve ever set your eyes on is fucking you at his place of work, on his desk. And you convinced him to. 

Joel was right. The pain, ache, and burn slowly turned into a real yearning for him to move. It felt like what was right, a certain neediness to be filled and fucked.  

“Daddy,” you whisper more sweetly this time, more to your character. “Please fuck me, you feel good now, I can take it. Promise.” 

It takes him a moment to gather himself as well, smiling sweetly as he keeps his mouth by your breasts where he is sucking a gentle hickey into your soft skin. Color flushes to the area, feeling his teeth gently nibble on the spot before he finally lifts off. 

Marking you, you think. It makes another gush of arousal flood your core, liquifying your spine as you become putty in his hands. 

His mouth twitches in a small smile as he captures your lips. Unbeknownst to you, the sweet kiss was just a distraction. 

Joel slowly began reeling his hips back which was a whole new sensation. His strangled moan harmonized with the gasp you let out into his mouth, moaning out the breath you were holding as he plunges himself fully back inside your warm cunt. 

You whimpered weakly, needy and anxiously happy, you wanted more. More, more, more. 

“Oh- my god,” you whimper, feeling him start a steady rhythm inside of you. Your jaw slowly drops and your eyes flutter closed, feeling your tits start to lightly bounce every time his hips perfectly align with your own. 

“So goddamn tight, still,” he grunts each word, forehead against yours as he watches your face unfold with a million reactions. 

Something primal switches in Joel, knowing he’s the first one to do this sort of stuff with you. 

It’s strangely possessive and arrogant, he knows it, but being the first man you trust to fuck you properly was feeding his ego. You’re a beautiful young woman with big doe eyes who waltzed into his shop and insisted he rail you, take your sacred first, talk you through it, and carry you through this dark and fearful forest. 

You trusted him. He wouldn’t break that bond. 

You came here wanting something, knowing how to get it. You came here asking, and Joel was open to teaching. The last thing he wanted was for some asshole to hurt you, something your sweet nature couldn’t afford was poison. 

Maybe he could teach you more, if you wanted. If he offered you an invitation to his world, would you take it? He only shared a slice of his lifestyle with you today, would the rest scare you, or entice you? 

Joel can’t help the way his hips buck faster at his thoughts, a little sob leaving your lips. He’s absent, just for a moment, feeling your skin slap against his as he holds you down and fills you fully. His tip hits your cervix for the first time and heat floods your stomach as you cry out his name. 

“Shit,” he panics and quickly comes back to his senses, wide eyes meeting your bleary ones, “you okay, angel? M���sorry” Joel whispers, returning to his original rhythm. 

“Yes-yes, fuck, please keep going, keep doing that, I can’t believe how good it feels.” 

Joel weakly smirks, proud to see you taking him so well.

The desk squeaks and juts with each of his heavy thrusts, that’s how you know it’s fucking good. You came here wanting to lose your virginity, but now that you’ve unwound Joel Miller, you want him to fucking rail you. 

Licking your lips, you lean up and pepper kisses up his wirey jawline, feeling the patch of hair that fades out and then back in again. He’s so sweet right now, but you wonder what he was talking about before. What was he when he wasn’t gentle? How good would rough feel? Would you like it? Maybe you could learn, explore, adventure. Surely Joel with his experience could be a guiding light. 

You watch with glittery eyes as Joel pulls his head off yours and licks across the pads of his fingers. 

“What are you- shit,” you whimper as his fingers start circling your clit, taking a moment to find your sweet little rhythm, one that somehow matches his hips. Now, your skin is slapping and it’s echoing around the room. Your moans are louder and uncontrollable, as are Joel’s. Your hips ache but you don’t find the will to care, he feels like fucking heaven. 

His cock is somehow inching deeper, as if your walls have decided to invite him in further, where he hits this perfect little spot inside of you that makes you squeak Joel’s name with robbed breaths. 

You’re not sure if you can hold on much longer, your stomach starts to swirl as all the knots inside your belly begin to untie themselves. 

You brace Joel at his shoulders and look into his eyes as you moan his name. A certain hunger flickers behind his dark brown orbs. His jaw clicks and he starts fucking you in earnest, filling you up each time as his hips snap with vigor. He feels fucking amazing, piercing your walls and marking you as his. 

“Joel-”

“Say what I wanna hear, baby,” he rasps. You quickly nod and gulp. 

“Daddy, please, I-I’m so close,” you moan sweetly as your head digs into the desk, jutting your chin up and arching your back. Joel takes full advantage of your breasts in his face, burying his nose in between them and nipping at the sensitive flesh, nearly making you yelp. 

“M’right there with you, angel baby, come for me,” he insists breathlessly.

His hips were losing their precision, going buck-wild, so you knew he was close. But he was holding out for you. 

You clench your eyes closed, feeling yourself lose all control. Your heart races in your chest, beat thrumming in your throat as you hold Joel against your front as his hips continue to snap and fill you. You don’t know what to do with your mouth, so you feverishly land your lips on his and make him mask the moans of your orgasm. 

Joel’s groan echoes loudly into your mouth as you gasp against his lips. Your walls clench eagerly around his cock as he spills into the condom. 

It’s blinding, deafening even. Your face goes slack and your eyes see stars. You think you might be shedding a tear or two because Joel is cupping your face kindly, thumbs swiping under your eyes as he encourages you out of your haze. 

“Lemme see those eyes, pretty girl,” he pants sweetly, watching for any sign of doubt. But he wouldn’t find any. 

You’re not so sure where he starts and you begin, your mind is so fuzzy. 

A soft hum leaves your lips as you soothingly run a hand through his dark hair again, gently stroking the longer curls away from the sheen on his forehead. Both of you were so warm, it felt like a fire was set between you two. When you curl a strand around your finger, you weakly smile as it coils back up and bounces. 

“How was your first time, angel?” Joel pants, still buried balls deep inside of you. Your hips ache, but part of you wasn’t ready for him to pull out yet. 

“I can’t believe I finished twice.” You admit with a shy smile, running a thumb up his cheekbone and glancing up at his eyebrow piercing. He notices you staring but keeps his eyes on your own.  

“Did it hurt?”

He shakes his head. 

“What about the one in your nose?”

He shakes his head again, this time with a smile. 

“Or your tongue?” 

This one made him ponder before he finally gave a light shrug. 

“You don’t remember the pain after a while. Just like tattoos. The pain is temporary.” 

Your mouth tilts in a lopsided smile, feeling messy with both of your spillages still puddled around your centers. 

Joel grunts as he slowly stands up from his bent-over position on the desk, pulling himself out of you and tying up the condom before he tosses it into the waste bin. 

You whine quietly to yourself as you close your legs. It hurts a little more now. Your hips and your core, a certain soreness. Or maybe it was missing him already. 

“Oh,” you whisper, starting to feel a little bit of leakage glide down your thigh. “Joe, do you-” 

“Course,” Joel says assuringly, hands already on a towel as he neals down and gently glides the material up the inside of your thigh. You bite down on your lip as he cleans you up with the soft towel and a little bit of water. 

You glance around the sterilized room and realize he’ll probably have to scrub this place down for the most part. Whoops. 

You’re slow to dress. Joel’s already buttoned his pants by the time you find your panties. He snickers quietly and helps you dress with a smirk. 

It’s not awkward like you feared it would. It sort of felt like you guys were friends. Then, something sort of unexpected happens. 

Joel fondly strokes a hair out of your face, pushing it behind your ear and smoothing out the little knots he had caused while fisting your hair during his blowjob. He’s soft and gentle with you. It makes you oh so curious what he looks like when he’s not soft and gentle. 

You sigh softly as you look at yourself in the mirror. You sort of felt proud, like you’d be a whole new person leaving the shop today. Even without a tattoo. 

“Joel, I don’t want anyone to see me leaving your office.” 

“That ashamed of me, huh?” He scoffs at you playfully, running his hand up and down his chest hair before he finally throws on his shirt. “I have the back office, so we can just go out that door.” He juts up his chin to behind you and you follow his eyeline. “Goes to the alley behind the shop.” 

You note the dark green painted exit door, and you’re thankful you don’t have to parade through the front of the shop or go past any other clients. 

The gentleman that he is, Joel walks you to your car as dusk settles in, marking the sky an orange and red horizon.  

“I gotta clean up the shop and close. You gonna be okay until I see you next?”

You nod meekly, a sweet smile on your face that twinges with a little shyness. “I’ll be okay. I still need that tattoo.” You tease to which he grins. 

“You do. I’ve worked real hard on it, so you better come back an’get it.” 

You nip at your lower lip as he stays guarded by your window, like a handsome pierced, and tatted bodyguard. 

It’s itching at you too much to let it go. You’re just too curious. “M’not this gentle.” 

“Yeah? Maybe you can show me next time what you’re really like.” 

“Not sure if you can handle it, kitten.” 

You gulp and clutch his hand before he fully stands up to walk away from your car. “You’ll show me again sometime? Like you said?”

Your eyes glimmer with a certain hopefulness, but his own seem to harden out of caution. 

It was just insane that he knew so much more than you. You wanted to unlock all forms of pleasure you were comfortable with. You like that he was holding something back. 

You were wet clay in his massive hands, he could mold you to his liking. You could learn his pleasures, his kinks, what unravels him beyond repair. You could learn a thing or two about yourself in the process. 

Joel sighs. 

“You don’t know what you’re askin’ for.” He warns, lips crooked in a snarl. His eyes beg for you not to want him, not to want this. 

But nothing set your nerves on fire like seeing him in control of you, just that brief second where his eyes flashed from amber to black and he fucked you like nothing or no one was stopping him. What if you gave it all up to him? 

Submissiveness dances behind your eyes, and Joel’s a sucker for that sweet look on your face. He debates if this is what you really want, or if it’s something else. He can’t deny he enjoys the trust you put in him. 

Joel quietly sighs with hesitation, eyes the way your small hand desperately holds his before he finally squeezes back. 

“You don’t know how t’take no for an answer, do ya?” He asks, a small smirk twitching at the corners of his mouth. “That’ll have to change.” 

You grin and nod, biting down on your lower lip as you shift uncomfortably in your seat. Joel takes notice, not wanting to see you in any sort of discomfort, especially from something he caused. 

“Take some pain medicine and relax tonight, angel. You were perfect.” 

Your heart swells at the compliment, the appreciation, the care. He gently pats your window a few times before standing up straight and backing up from your car, moving back towards the dark green exit door. “I’ll see you soon.” 

Driving away, you’re giddy with excitement of the unknown. It was a dark path you wanted to pursue. And maybe it was fucking stupid how you could trust a complete stranger like this, how none of your past partners felt worthy of your first time, but the tattooed and pierced old southern gentleman did. It was fucked. But you were sort of fucked for Joel Miller. 

You hum to the radio as you experience pure adrenaline, thumb gliding over the raised numbers on his business card. You glance down and notice a small stamp of a fern in the top right corner, adjacent to his name and professional title. 

The Obsidian Gallery 

Joel Miller

Senior Tatoo Artist

You can’t explain how your heart inadvertently races as you remember flashes of his hips rutting into yours, those same delicate fern leaves decorating the front of his hips. You were so fucked for Joel Miller. 

next chapter ->

[wintrwinchestr]

strangers | part 2

summary: nearly a month has passed since you agreed to go to california with joel, and you think you might love him. you trust him, and he makes you feel cared for and safe, but he hasn't been telling you the whole truth. eventually, you make a shocking discovery that makes him feel like a stranger to you all over again.

!!PLEASE READ WARNINGS, THIS IS A VERY DARK FIC!!

I've tried to label this fic as detailed and as boldly as possible. I will not be held responsible or bullied off the internet if you choose to read this potentially upsetting/triggering work of fiction anyway.

warnings: joel miller x f!reader, 18+, smut, age gap (reader is college-aged, joel is mid-50s), no outbreak au, serial killer!joel, dark!joel, DDDNE (graphic descriptions of blood, murder, and of captive/dead girls, non-con p-in-v sex (i'll say rape just in case but reader does not explicitly express non-consent), being held captive, degrading language toward victims/victim blaming, joel is implied to fantasize that you're dead while fucking you, kind of stockholm syndrome), non-con breathplay/choking, mommy & daddy issues, lying, gaslighting, coercion, manipulation, pet names (baby, darlin', sweetheart, babydoll, etc), no ellie/sarah but tommy has an unnamed daughter, somewhat inspired by "strangers" by ethel cain, vaguely set in the 70s/80s, please respectfully let me know if i missed anything and i will rectify the tags

word count: 8.1k

a/n: this is the second part. if the tags deter you from reading that's okay, just pretend joel and reader made it to california and they lived happily ever after. i understand i've written something dark and heavy and it isn't for everyone, you are welcome on my blog whether it's for you or not as long as everyone is respectful of each other <3

divider by @saradika

series masterlist/moodboard

read this chapter on ao3

part 3 (coming soon)

As the breeze begins to carry a chill that bites without the protection of a jacket or one of Joel’s flannels, the two of you have been spending the last month or so trying to outrun Autumn altogether as you make your way to California. You’ve crossed more state lines now than you ever could’ve imagined you would, and you and Joel have even made a game out of trying to spot the license plate of the farthest state away from wherever you are. He was impressed when you had recently managed to spot an Alaska plate in fucking Kansas, of all places. 

You spend your days visiting cheesy tourist traps and collecting cheap souvenirs from their gift shops, and your nights in motels or in his truck or in goddamn gas station bathrooms tangled up in each other’s bodies, unable to keep your hands off each other. The seal had finally broken just a few days after you had agreed to go to California with him, when he had laid his hand on your knee while he was driving, and you didn’t stop him from sliding it higher and higher, his fingers eventually making their way between your thighs and gently rubbing your clit through your shorts. Joel would’ve been content to play with your pussy just like that, pinching at your little nub and dipping his fingers into your drooling hole as he drove, but the noises you were making were driving him fucking insane. He had pulled off into a wooded area and instructed you to climb into the backseat, where he had shoved himself inside of you for the first time and fucked you until you saw stars. You never made it to wherever it was you were headed to that afternoon, deciding instead to just call it a day and spend the rest of it covered in each other’s sweat and come and breathing heavily into each other’s necks. 

You’ve seen new parts of Joel in other ways, too, in the time that you’ve been traveling with him. He’s been opening up to you, slowly but surely, as the weeks go on. You did eventually remember to ask him about that song you couldn’t quite make out at Moody’s, humming the bit of the chorus you could remember for him in hopes that he’d recognize it.

“I think I know the one, darlin’. Should have it on cassette somewhere here, ‘s called Alone and Forsaken, think it’s by Hank Williams. Hadn’t heard that one in a while, ‘s a winner, though,” he’d said.

You’d rifled through the contents of the glove box and pulled it out, excitedly swapping the tape with the one in the player and pressing the button on the dash to start the song. Joel’s fingers had begun to tap against the wheel immediately, and he seemed to relax at the sound of the guitar’s steady strumming. You had just watched him as the song played, admiring the subtle movements of the muscles in his face as he’d hummed along.

But he’d noticed your staring, after a while, and teased, “Y’know, really shouldn’t look at a man like that, babydoll. Might give ‘im some ideas.”

Babydoll. That was new, too. It had become his new favorite pet name for you, bestowed upon you when he had offered you another dress to wear from the stash of clothing belonging to Tommy’s daughter that he keeps under his backseat. Joel had told you eventually that he’d fibbed about his relationship with Tommy, just a little bit, and that he hasn’t actually seen him or his kid in quite some time. “Just kinda grew apart after a while, stopped keepin’ up with each other,” Joel had explained. “Jus’ never quite got around to gettin’ rid of all that stuff, I guess.”

You certainly didn’t mind having something new to wear, especially something as pretty as the little pink dress that got you your new name. Joel had looked at you hungrily when you’d first tried it on, raking his eyes up and down your form as you twirled for him.

“So pretty, sweetheart. Look just like a lil’ babydoll in that, don’t you?” Joel had complimented.

You’d giggled at the nickname, becoming shy as he’d stalked towards you and used a hooked finger to lift up your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his own. “Like that one, do ya? Like bein’ my babydoll, all mine?”

You’d sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, your brows peaked with need as your eyes had begun to glaze over from his gentle dominance. It had never taken much from him to make you start feeling a little floaty, even early on, ready to fall into his arms so he could make you gush onto his fingers or his cock or his tongue.

You’d nodded your head all syrupy and slow, making a little whimpering sound in affirmation.

“Say it,” he’d whispered, the hand propping up your chin slowly finding its way down to your neck, where it always seemed to land in your moments of intimacy. Joel had never really asked you if you liked it there or not, if you liked it when he squeezed your throat just right until your vision became spotty and your breath came out pinched and raspy, but you had learned to like it, to crave that guidance and control from him. He’d never taken it too far, just brought you teetering over the edge of unconsciousness, then allowed you to fill your lungs with air again. 

“I like it, Joel, like being yours…”

“Yeah… ‘n you’re gonna be mine forever, huh? Never gonna leave my side, always gonna belong to me, ain’t that right?” His grip on your windpipe had begun to tighten as he questioned you.

“Forever… ‘m yours, Joel…” you’d promised through a hoarse whisper.

A growl had rumbled from deep in Joel’s chest at your choked words, and he’d quickly let go of your throat to spin you around and shove you face-first into the creaking motel mattress, flipping up the skirt of your little babydoll dress and showing you just how pretty he thought you looked in it. “Mine, mine, mine,” he’d chanted as he caged you in with his heavy form, slamming inside of your aching cunt until you cried out, shuddering around him as he spilled inside of you. 

He calls you babydoll almost exclusively now, like it’s your actual name. Your everyday clothing consists almost entirely of frilly dresses and tiny tops and tight shorts from the supply in Joel’s truck, with maybe a few items he picks out for you at the occasional Goodwill mixed in. He’s made it so that you never have to think for yourself ever again, taking care of everything for you from picking out your outfits to ordering for you at the diners. All you have to worry about is being good, being his, his perfect little doll, and he says that you deserve a life as easy as this, that it’s the least he can do for you in exchange for your company, for being so good for him.

Joel does allow you to use your brain for some things, still, like bombarding him with the questions you’d begun stashing away in your mind all those weeks ago. Some of them he still answers vaguely, like where the scar on his nose came from, or if he’d been married before, or what his life was like before he met you. But sometimes you can get a story out of him, and it always feels like you’ve won the lottery when you’re able to get him talking. After the Hank Williams cassette had finished playing that day, you’d decided to ask him what he’d wanted to be when he grew up. 

He’d thought about it for a second, and then laughed at himself. “‘F I tell you, I don’t wanna hear any gigglin’ outta you over there, ‘s that clear?”

“I can’t promise you that if I don’t know what you’re gonna tell me. If you say, like, a rodeo clown or something, I’m gonna laugh.”

Joel had just glared at you, and you’d rolled your eyes.

“Fine, I won’t laugh, I promise. Just tell me.”

“Alright…” Joel had sighed. “I wanted to be a singer, actually. Believe it or not.”

You had almost started crying right then, the visual of a little Joel all those years ago wanting to grow up and become a singer being almost too much to bear. 

“Awe, Joel… You can sing? Can you—”

“No, I ain’t gonna sing for you. Don’t even ask, babydoll.”

Joel had seemed adamant about that at the time, but just a few days later when a violent thunderstorm was blowing through the town you’d stopped in for the night, you’d woken him up when you couldn’t fall asleep, and asked him in a trembling voice if he would sing for you. He’d just grunted and rolled back over at first, but you’d kept quietly begging him, and he eventually gave in to your little frightened sounding pleas. You’d rested your head against his chest as he stroked your hair and sang Alone and Forsaken for you a few times over, until the soothing sound of his voice and the quiet thumping of his heartbeat had lulled you back to sleep. The thunder had eventually retreated when it realized you weren’t scared of it anymore, now feeling safe and protected in Joel’s arms. 

He could only take so much more questioning from you after a while, though, until he decided it was about time for you to reveal more of yourself to him, and you’d thought that was fair. You’d spent a whole afternoon in the truck one day telling him about how your dad had passed away when you were still in high school, and how you’d always wished he could’ve seen you walk across the stage at graduation and go off to college. How he was the one who’d even encouraged you to go in the first place, when you hadn’t felt smart enough or good enough at anything to ever find the pursuit worthwhile. But he’d always been supportive of your artistic endeavors, the ones your mom had always called ‘useless’ and ‘a waste of time’ and ‘nothing that could ever amount to a real job’. Your dad had tried his best to make you believe otherwise, always proudly displaying your work around the house when your mother would allow it, and even framing some of it for his office. It was devastating when he had passed, but at least you felt you could make him proud in some way, by deciding to pursue a degree in art at the nearby state school. But then your mother had ruined your chances of ever finishing the program, and, well… here you are now. 

After you’d finished your story, Joel had comforted you just like he always did, promising to find you a sketchbook and some pencils at the next town you came across so you could keep nurturing your talents. He’d made good on his word, and now your time on the road is often spent sketching Joel, his cassettes, the mountains, anything you see that sparks inspiration and demands to be committed to paper.

Today, the two of you are on your way to see the world’s largest something or other in New Mexico, and you’ve become determined to etch a drawing onto every page of your book by the time you reach California. You’ve sketched just about everything in the truck at this point, and different tries at capturing Joel’s handsome side profile already take up more than half of the pages that you’ve filled out so far. You begin scouring the cabin of the truck, searching for something new you can draw. You eventually try bending forward to look under the bench seat, just in case you can find a crumpled up candy wrapper or something, but an even more interesting object catches your eye, tucked just behind Joel’s legs. It looks like an old shoebox, maybe containing some more tapes or things belonging to Tommy’s kid. You try to reach over to Joel’s side of the bench seat to grab it, and he almost swerves the truck off the road when he notices what you’re doing.

“What’re you…? Don’t touch that, babydoll, jus’ leave it alone,” he scolds.

You sit up straight again, taken aback by his tone. “Why? I was just looking for something new to draw, thought there might be something in there.”

“It’s just junk in there, baby, nothin’ you’d much be interested in,” Joel says, his grip on the steering wheel becoming more white-knuckled.

“So? I can’t draw some old junk?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Joel sighs in frustration. “‘Cause I said so, babydoll, Christ. Just leave it be, I’ll throw it out next time we stop. Find somethin’ else to draw.”

“Okay… ‘M sorry,” you respond timidly.

“‘S alright, sweet girl. ‘M sorry too, shouldn’ta yelled at you like that. Just… tryin’ to drive here, don’t want you reachin’ behind my legs and shit, ain’t safe.”

You just nod, popping open the glove compartment for the hundredth time in hopes that there could be something in there that you’d missed before. There isn’t, so you decide to pluck out that Hank Williams tape and sketch it again, humming the song to yourself in an attempt at self-soothing as you begin to outline the shape of it. It seems like a bad time to ask Joel to sing it for you again, but if you’re good for the rest of the day and make up for your earlier mistake, maybe you could hear it again tonight.

—

You’re just finishing up your sketch a half hour or so later, when Joel decides it’s time to stop for gas. You glance over at the fuel gauge on the dash, and it looks like the truck still has half a tank left, but you decide not to say anything about it. Just like he’d said when you had first reached for the shoebox, Joel swipes it from underneath the seat as he exits the truck, tossing it haphazardly into the trash can by the gas pump. 

“Dammit,” you hear him curse to himself, and you look out the window to see him staring angrily at the empty pocket inside of his wallet where cash should be. Joel opens up the passenger side door to explain, “Forgot I used up the last o’ my cash on dinner last night. Just… stay here, babydoll, gotta head inside ‘n use the ATM quick, alright?”

You nod obediently, and watch him take long strides toward the convenience store before disappearing inside. 

He’ll only be gone for a few minutes at the most, so you know that you have to make your move now. You’ve never had Joel bark at you before like he’d done when you had reached for that beat up cardboard box, and you still feel a little rattled by it. What could possibly have been in there that he didn’t want you to see? For the first time, you feel like you might not be able to trust him, and it makes you feel a little sick. You’ve started to feel like you might love Joel, and you think he probably feels the same way, even if you haven’t said those exact three words to each other yet. Someone who loves you wouldn’t hide things from you, would they? Especially not after you’ve already bared so much of your souls to each other, after you’ve decided that you belong to each other.

There’s only one way to find out, you decide.

You exit the truck quietly, swiftly closing the short distance between you and the trash can and peering into the black plastic bag that lines it. You fish out the shoebox from where it lays on top of other garbage, and crouch down in front of the gas pump to hide yourself from view. Taking a steadying breath, you carefully remove the weathered lid from the box and begin to examine its contents. At first glance, it seems to just be full of washed-out polaroids and a few random objects—a tarnished charm bracelet, a fraying ribbon, and a cracked pair of glasses among them. What is all this stuff? You think to yourself, Keepsakes from his former life, more of Tommy’s daughter’s things that he couldn’t bring himself to get rid of yet?

You pick up a photo laying face down on top of the pile and turn it over, almost immediately dropping it back into the box in favor of clapping your hand over your open mouth. You shut your eyes tightly as they begin to water, hoping that when you open them again, you’ll find that you were wrong about what you had just seen. That it was just a trick of the light, that it wasn’t what it seemed, that you had just imagined it.

But you aren’t so fortunate.

Your heart plummets into your stomach as you peer inside the box again, a sickly feeling of dread beginning to claw its way up the back of your neck. You examine the photo more closely, and it appears to be of a girl who looks about your age, bound at the hands, gagged, and naked. She’s kneeling on the damp forest floor, staring up at the photographer with a defeated, glazed-over expression. She’s bruised, bleeding from her nose, and filthy, with her hair tangled in knots and mascara-stained tears running down her cheeks. The photo looks to have captured her last moments alive. 

One by one, you quickly examine a dozen or so more photos as your pulse hammers hard in your throat. Each of them are nearly identical, all depicting a pretty early twenty-something, either restrained and begging for her life or already dead. They all have dates scribbled on the front that are spaced out a mere couple of weeks from each other, with the names of the girls written on the backs of them. To your horror, you notice that some of the polaroids even have bloody fingerprints staining their white frames. It seems impossible that Joel could be the one who took these photos, that he could be the one to reduce these young girls to nothing more than weak puddles of tears and blood. You begin desperately trying to convince yourself that this is all part of a fucked-up nightmare you’re moments away from waking up from, until a photo containing a bright flash of white catches your eye. You can’t help how your face contorts into a grimace when you examine the photo closer, your stomach lurching at the sight of the amount of blood spilling from the back of the girl’s head as she lays lifeless on a wooden floor. All that she’s wearing are her underwear and a white tank top, the ditsy floral pattern of which you could swear you’ve seen before.

You don’t understand why it looks so familiar to you until you spread around more of the polaroids in the box, and spot one capturing a girl tied up and gagged on a motel bed, wearing a baby pink dress that grotesquely juxtaposes the depravity of her situation. She has wide, pleading doe eyes and ribbons finishing the ends of each of her braids that kind of make her look like… a doll.

The realization hits you all at once, that nearly all of the clothes Joel has given you since the day you met him had never belonged to Tommy’s daughter at all, if he even has one, if Tommy even really exists. You’d been wearing Anna’s white tank top with the delicate floral print. Elizabeth’s pink babydoll dress. Even the clothes you have on now probably belonged to some of Joel’s victims, but you don’t think you can stand to find out which ones. 

Your thoughts begin to spiral out of control, an irrational part of your brain working overtime to come up with a million reasons why this can’t be true, that there has to be some other explanation for what you’re seeing, until you pick up a final photo, where the sleeve of Joel’s drab olive flannel is clearly visible in the corner. The shirt is tattered at the cuffs in the exact way that Joel’s is, and it has the same terracotta striping woven through the plaid pattern. Emerging from the bottom of the sleeve is a tanned, thick hand, wrapped tightly around a pale, fragile neck, with some of the girl’s blonde ringlet curls poking through the gaps between his fingers. When you flip over the photo, your blood runs cold when you read the name inscribed on the back—Ruby.

Your tears begin to fall then. How strange, how cruel, that fate has led you here, lured you straight to him. Someone that you thought you knew, trusted, loved, who’s suddenly a stranger to you all over again. You’ve just been doomed from the start, haven’t you? All along, it was Joel who had been responsible for building the trap you’ve found yourself ensnared in now. Ruby hadn’t run away at all that summer, hadn’t found a place she belonged, a place to start a real life for herself, a place to see her unlimited potential finally fulfilled. She’d met Joel, and he’d restricted her existence to nothing more than a polaroid that he keeps in a fucking shoebox under the seat of his truck. All along, this is where she’d been. 

You feel like throwing up. You’re reeling, completely horrified and sick to your stomach, your life as you had just come to know it having come crashing down around you in an instant. You quickly replace the lid on the box and throw it back into the trash can, hopefully never to be seen again. You scramble back inside the truck just in time for the convenience store door to swing open again, the little bell accompanying the movement sounding sharp and sinister as it announces Joel’s imminent arrival. Your pulse pounds erratically against your ribcage as you try to act as naturally as possible, forcing your shaking hands to look like they’re busy adding the finishing touches to your latest sketch. 

You don’t look at Joel as he approaches the truck, and he doesn’t seem to pay you much attention, either. He leans against the hood casually once he feeds the bills into the pump, letting the tank fill the rest of the way up with gas. You have to come up with an escape plan now, before your poorly disguised agitation gives you away and he figures out what you’ve seen. 

When his task is finished, Joel climbs back into the driver’s seat exhales a deep breath, like he feels relieved to have finally discarded the evidence so you’d never find out the truth about him. You’re determined to keep him clueless for as long as you can.

“Ready to keep goin’, babydoll? Should only be another hour or so ‘fore we get to the next stop,” he asks, reaching over to you to gently tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. You flinch away from his touch instinctually, then silently curse yourself for already doing such a shitty job at keeping up your facade.

“A-actually, um…” You swallow hard. “I’m kinda g-getting a headache, it really hurts. And I feel really s-sick. Is it okay if we just… go straight to a motel? I just wanna… lay down,” you lie, screwing up your face into a pained wince and wrapping your arms around your stomach in an effort to make it all more convincing.

“Oh, you poor thing…” Joel coos, placing the back of his hand against your forehead. “Y’ do feel kinda hot… Sure, darlin’. Think there’s a place not too much further down the road here, jus’ hang tight.”

“T-thank you,” you reply weakly. Your voice is coming out a little uneven, but you hope it just adds to the believability of your act instead of raising suspicion. You try to cover it up with a cough and a little pained groan, just for good measure.

Joel doesn’t waste any more time getting back on the road, and you stay quiet for the short ride to the nearest motel, doing your best to hold back your tears and even out your breathing. You’ll need to be calm and clear-headed in order to have any chance at escape, lest you want to meet the same fate as the dozens of other girls who were probably also blinded by Joel’s southern charm and good looks, who were manipulated by his lies and tricked into believing that he could give them a happy ending. Was he ever going to let you see California? Or had he been leading you to your death all along?

You’re going to be the one who lives. For Ruby, you have to be. For all of them.

—

Just like the first night you’d spent with him, Joel has you wait in the truck while he checks in at the counter and retrieves the keys to your room before coming back to get you. You fake a stumble when you step down from the truck, and Joel mumbles a ‘Jesus, babydoll’ before hoisting you into his arms and carrying you across the room’s threshold, setting you down softly onto the bed.

“Whaddya need, sweet girl? Water? Some crackers, or somethin’? Bet I could ask the front desk if they got some medicine or anythin’ like that,” Joel asks, sitting on the edge of the bed while you curl up and turn away from him. You do your best not to flinch this time when he decides to comfortingly massage the back of your neck.

“Can you ask, please? It hurts so bad,” you whine, unable to tamp down your shuddering sobs any longer.

“Sure I will, my poor lil’ girl… I’ll be right back, alright?”

Joel pets your hair for a moment, and the gesture would normally flood your belly with lovesick butterflies, but it only feels predatorial now, like a lion trying to convince its prey that it only wants to play, that it won’t be torn to pieces and eaten alive. 

Your body finally relaxes when Joel leaves the room, and you count out thirty seconds to hopefully allow him to reach the front office before you make your break. When you whisper the final ‘thirty’ to yourself, you spring out of bed and sprint out the door, almost tripping over your own feet in your race to reach the payphone you’d spotted earlier in the parking lot. You figured that trying to call for help would be a smarter move than running, and you’d never make it far on foot, anyway, not in the flimsy little dress and cheap canvas sneakers you’re wearing. You’d stolen a few quarters out of the truck’s center console while Joel was letting the gas pump, and you shakily deposit them into the slot, nearly dropping them. You punch the numbers 9-1-1 into the keypad, nearly ripping the phone clean off the hook as you bring it up to your ear.

“Come on, come on, come on…” You mutter to yourself, drumming your bitten fingernails against the hard plastic handset as the mocking dial tone trills in your ear.

“911, what is your emergency?” comes a voice on the other line, female. 

“Please, I need hel–” but before you can even finish the word, he’s on you, one large hand clapped over your mouth while the other rips the phone out of your hand and slams it back into the receiver. You kick and bite and thrash, but your pitiful attempts at escape do nothing to deter him. After all, his pickup is the only car in the lot, and your room is the only one with a light on. The clerk who checked him in could have never existed at all, for all you know. There’s not a soul around to hear you cry or beg or scream, except for him. You should have known that he would see straight through you, that he would’ve anticipated you getting curious and made sure he was always one step ahead of you. Joel drags you back to the room with a two-handed grasp on your upper arm, gripped onto you hard enough you’re sure his fingertips will leave bruises.

“No, no, no, please! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Joel!” You plead, using his first name in a pathetic effort to try to appeal to whatever morality he might have left.

“You stupid fuckin’ bitch…” he spits.

Joel kicks open the door to your room and flings it shut behind him so hard you’re surprised the wood doesn’t shatter, splintering into a million sharp little pieces. He throws you down onto the stained double bed you’ll be sharing tonight, if he doesn’t decide to use the yellowed comforter to wrap your lifeless corpse in later instead. You push yourself up into a sitting position and brace yourself for whatever he’ll do to you for disobeying him, for trying to escape. You’ve never seen this side of him before, never even come close to upsetting him like this in the time that you’ve known him. 

“Don’t know who the fuck you were tryin’ to call, but you better get it through that dumb fuckin’ brain of yours that nobody gives a fuck about you anymore except for me, you got that? Cops ain’t gonna do nothin’ about some fuckin’ runaway slut, ‘specially not one who’s got nobody to miss her in the first place. ‘S why you ran away, ‘s why I picked you up… ‘Cause we both know ain’t nobody gonna come lookin’ for you. Wouldn’t be able to find your body even if they did,” he barks at you, a huge paw wrapped in the hair at the base of your skull to keep your gaze trained on him.

“Please, please don’t hurt me! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I won’t ever do it again, I promise–”

“Y’ know… I saved you from that hell hole, I gave you everything, and this is the fuckin’ thanks I get?!” The low gravel of his voice seems to be coming from somewhere deep and cavernous inside of him. It fills the entire room with a black smoke that penetrates your eardrums and fills your mouth with something bitter.

“I know, I know, I don’t know what I was thinking, I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you–”

“Yeah, I know you weren’t fuckin thinkin’. Dumb fuckin’ cunt.” Joel releases your hair and you collapse in on yourself, beginning to sob all over again. You know it probably makes you look weak in front of him, but you can’t help it as the dread washes over you. You’re on the verge of hyperventilating, wondering if this will be the one mistake that seals your fate, if he’ll let you live long enough to see those aching little imprints on your arm from where he grabbed you bloom into purple-red blotches in the morning. With your eyes shut tight and hot tears streaming down your cheeks, you’re heaving, trying to catch your breath as you release broken little noises that sound like sorry, sorry, sorry. The repeated apology almost resembles some kind of prayer, as if that could save you now.

He lets you run the gamut of your terror for a minute before pinching the bridge of his nose, the calloused pads of his fingers squeezing that angry red scar that adorns it. He expels a heavy sigh and sits beside you on the bed, the springs of the old mattress screeching as they dip with his weight.

“C’mere, babydoll,” he says, quietly now, and you feel too weak to fight him as he pulls you into his lap and helps you to straddle your legs across his thick waist. You can feel his hardening bulge against your core through the thin material of your panties, exposed now by the skirt of your dress riding up and pooling at the creases of your thighs. 

“‘S okay, darlin’ I forgive you.” He lets you cry into his shoulder as he shushes you, rocking you side to side and petting the top of your head as if he were soothing a spooked little dog. When you’re able to take deep breaths again, your senses are flooded with his familiar comforting scent. The combination of his natural cologne and the softness of his voice reaches inside some deep corner of your brain that isn’t completely terrorized and disgusted by him, and it’s enough for you to lift your head up to face him again.

“Y-you do?” You squeak out as you sniffle, and Joel wipes away the last of your salty tears with one of his rough thumbs, sucking it into his mouth afterwards. He lets out a soft groan before gripping your jaw so that the fat of your cheeks makes your lips pucker.

“Yeah, babydoll… But why would you try to go off runnin’ like that, hm? Thought you were mine, my girl, thought we understood each other.”

His tone, the furrow in his brows and the slight pout of his lips make you feel guilty, somehow, upset with yourself for making him feel this way, for trying to run from his care and affection. “I-I thought so, too. But then… then I…” you stutter, finding it impossible to speak coherently anymore.

“Then what, babydoll?” Joel prompts calmly, stroking his thumb along your cheek as he squeezes it.

“T-the box… I saw—”

“Yeah… You saw my girls, didn’t you, baby? That’s why you tried to run, ain’t it? Look at me, babydoll.”

Joel jostles your face in his grip, and you obey his command, nodding slowly. When you look into his eyes, you finally notice how dark they’ve become, their usual warm amber color now appearing more red.

“You… you killed her. I-it was you.”

“Which one’re you talkin’ about, baby? Collected a lotta girls over the years, lose track of ‘em after a while.”

Your stomach churns at his callousness. “R-Ruby… I saw h-her. Y-you… you were…” You can’t bring yourself to finish your sentence, your words interrupted by your hiccuping breaths.

“Oh, Ruby…” Joel shifts his hips into yours, a growl rumbling from deep in his chest as he closes his eyes for a moment, turning over her name on his tongue. “Yeah… She was a pretty thing, wasn’t she? Feisty one, though. ‘Bout broke my goddamn nose. Wasn’t gonna be so rough with her, but… she practically asked for it.” He brushes his finger across the scar on his face, and your eyes well up again when you make the connection. “What else did you see, hm? Talk t’ me about it, babydoll.” Even through his jeans, you can feel that he’s fully hard now, turned on at the prospect of reliving those gruesome scenes.

Nauseating visions of the polaroids flash across your memory—the girl bleeding from the back of her head, the one with the cut throat, the one with her neck bent at an unnatural angle. “No, please don’t make me…” you shake your head at him, your bottom lip trembling as you fight back more stinging tears. 

Joel releases his hold on your face in favor of giving your cheek a harsh smack. “Wasn’t a fuckin’ question, girl.”

You use his loosened grip as an opportunity to try to scramble out of his lap, hitting your hands against his chest as you try to push off the bed and get back onto your feet.

“Nuh-uh, I don’t think so. Quit fuckin’ strugglin’.” 

He’s got you flipped onto your back in a second, with your legs dangling off the edge of the bed. He stands between your parted thighs, and you look up at him through blurred vision, one of his strong hands now attempting to cut off the blood supply to your brain as he uses the other to free his thick cock from his jeans. His teeth are bared, and the look in his eyes is faraway, as if the Joel you thought you knew is somewhere else entirely, miles away from this dingy motel room off the side of the freeway. He’s long gone now, replaced by this monstrous version of him that you don’t recognize.

“Keep fightin’, see what fuckin’ happens… I’d take the prettiest photos of you, y’ know that? Add you to my lil’ collection, have no choice but to be mine forever… You’d fit right in, babydoll, this perfect fuckin’ body.”

He slides a hand up and down his leaking shaft as he rambles, and it’s impossible to deny how much it excites him, talking about his killing, his ritual. 

“Wasn’t plannin’ on it, promised myself I’d be done after the last one but—fuck—just can’t fuckin’ stop myself. ‘S just so goddamn easy,” Joel hisses through his teeth. His hand never leaves your neck as he flips up the skirt of your dress and yanks your ashamedly damp panties down your trembling legs. He flings them haphazardly onto a discolored patch of carpet in the corner of the room, and it makes you wince, imagining how he must’ve disposed of so many other girls before you in the same careless manner.  

As hopeless as it seems now, you won’t be one of them. You don’t have any other choice, you have to make it out of this alive, you have to do something.

“W-what… what is?” You manage to choke out.

Joel looks down at you, almost startled, as if you’re an inanimate object speaking to him, like he didn’t expect you to have a voice.

“Huh?”

“Y-you said… it’s so easy. What’s easy?”

He licks his lips as he thinks on his response, a sickly smile tugging at the corners. “Pickin’ up a pretty slut nobody’s gonna miss, takin’ her home with me and turnin’ her fuckin’ lights out. They practically do it to themselves with all their strugglin’ and bitin’ and scratchin’, just want ‘em to fuckin’—unh—behave.”

You whine as he pushes his tip inside your little hole, but try to maintain your composure. You think you understand now, why he’s acting this way. He wants you to want to be with him, and it triggers some kind of deepset anger inside of him when you fight, when you run, when you throw his affection back in his face. Killing the girls might not even be his end goal, at least not when he first takes them, more like an inevitable side effect of what happens when they try to escape his captivity and he feels rejected, hurt, tossed aside. And then he lashes out. And then they die. And then the cycle repeats. You’d lasted this long because you’d been the first to not reject his advances, because he’d seen himself in you.

If you don’t fight, if you can keep him talking, if you can convince him that this is what you want, you might have a chance at survival. It’s not much of a strategy, but it’s something, and it’s better than giving up.

“How… how do you d-do it?” you ask, a little less rasp in your voice as his grip on your throat begins to loosen, but his hand never leaves it entirely. He slides the rest of his cock inside you as you stutter out your question, and he laughs.

“You sure you wanna hear it, babydoll? Might be a bit much for you.” He’s fully seated inside you now, and the stretch of him burns. Even though the two of you have been fucking like bunnies practically every day since you’ve met, you can only fight against your body so much, and the fear you’re trying desperately not to clue him into is making every one of your muscles tighten around him.

“No! No, I-I wanna know. Tell me, please…” You bat your eyelashes up at him for good measure, and his canine grin widens some more.

“God, y’ really are just as fucked up as I am, huh? ‘S why I kept you around, ‘cause you’re like me…” He begins to piston his thick length in and out of you, affectionately tucking a lock of hair behind your ear with his free hand as he does. The other one constricts your airflow once again, and you stifle a whimper, suppressing the urge to argue and spit back that you’re not like him. “Usually strangle ‘em, little throats always fit so perfectly in my hands, jus’ like this…”

His voice trails off as he shoves into you harder, picking up his pace. Your breathing becomes broken and frantic as you claw through the black cloud closing in on your vision in your effort to keep him talking. “And then what?” you squeak out.

“Squeeze ‘em, real hard and slow,” Joel growls. “Try not to come in my jeans just from the pathetic lil’ sounds they make when they’re prayin’ to God to save ‘em. Ain’t so gentle with ‘em if they put up too much of a fight, though. Jus’ gotta cut the shit sometimes, slice ‘em open or split their fuckin’ skulls just to make ‘em stop. God, you’d never believe the amount of blood a lil’ girl like you’s got in ‘em.” He’s slamming his hips into your sore cunt now, both hands wrapped tightly around your neck as he uses it for leverage. You feel your muscles begin to slacken, either from the lack of oxygen or from his just-right strokes against that little spot deep inside, you can’t be sure. It was just a survival instinct, you’ll tell yourself in the morning.

“Yeah? It’s… it’s a lot?” you prompt, skin feeling tingly and voice coming out hoarse, sounding like it had come from somewhere else other than your own body. It could’ve just been the wind, a tractor-trailer whistling by outside.

“Yeah, ‘s a lot. Bleed so fuckin’ much, y’ think it might never stop. Just keeps—fuck—comin’...”

Joel’s voice breaks on the telltale word, his thrusts becoming frenzied and disjointed as he nears his release. A few high-pitched moans manage to squeeze past your compressed vocal chords, and they’re half-genuine, half-forced as a means to spur him on and speed up the process. The stretches of skin between his thumbs and forefingers are pressing down, down, down against your windpipe, and you plead with him as coherently as possible in your race against that darkness threatening to swallow you whole. 

“C-come, Joel, p-please, want you to—”

“Shut up, babydoll. Fuck… Eyes on me, c’mon,” he orders, shaking you by the neck to wake you up a bit, prevent your eyes from closing all the way. “Look at me. Just… lay fuckin’ still, don’t make a sound. Hold your goddamn breath, okay? Don’t even fuckin’ blink.”

He’s never demanded something like this before, but you aren’t exactly in a position to disobey. You do as he asks, and some of it comes involuntarily, anyway. With your hands laid at your sides, eyes looking into Joel’s own but somehow past them, unblinking, your mouth slack and lungs paralyzed, you almost feel like…

Like one of them. 

“Tha’s it, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants to himself, rutting into your limp body with abandon as he chases his high. You can’t help but let another tear slip past your lashes, and he doesn’t wipe it away this time. 

A few more bruising pulses of his cock later, and all the blood rushes back into your head at once as Joel lets go of his vice grip around your neck, collapsing on top of your still form and breathing heavily into the damp skin of your neck where your wet tears have collected. He stays like that for a while, still slotted inside you, and you let him come back into himself for as long as he needs, not daring to move a muscle until he permits you to do so. 

Joel slides himself out of your leaking hole when he’s finally caught his breath, grunting as he pushes himself up off the bed and runs a hand through his sweat-damp hair. He studies your abused form, then tuts when he notices the marks he left around your throat.

“Better make sure you wear your hair down tomorrow, I reckon. Got a decent record of keepin’ the law off my ass, I’d rather keep it that way.” 

Tomorrow. He plans on letting you live. Until then, anyway. 

“Okay,” you agree quietly.

Joel doesn’t let you out of his sight again for the rest of the evening. He’d helped you up off the bed and into the shower, where he’d cleaned both of your bodies and scrubbed the dried tears and sweat from your skin. He’d sunk his claws into your scalp as he washed your hair under the scalding water, and you wondered if the suds could carry even the intangible filth down the drain with it—the guilt, the fear, the defeat, the violation. You almost wish you hadn’t looked in the box at all. What difference would it have made, if you’d stayed with him in ignorance? Those girls are still dead. It’s not like you can save them now. You couldn’t even save yourself.

Joel changes you into one of his large t-shirts for you to sleep in tonight, instead of a frilly nightgown or something else short and revealing that he’d usually pick out for you. You suppose that the choice of clothing acts as a more visible representation of his ownership over you. He’s marking his territory, scenting you like a dog. Like you’re his bitch.

Joel holds you suffocatingly close to him in bed that night, his arms wrapped around you so tightly that it’s difficult for your ribs to expand. He keeps one hand possessively wrapped around the column of your neck, not squeezing, just to remind you what he’s capable of. As if you could ever forget. 

“Y’know what, babydoll? I think we could be partners, you and I,” Joel says in a slow, gravelly voice, right next to your ear.

“W-what do you mean?” You whisper back into the darkness.

“I just… I tried to quit, y’ know, but I don’t think I can. I don’t want to. Too damn old and slow to keep chasin’ after ‘em anymore, but… ‘f I keep you around, you’d just make the perfect bait, wouldn’t you? That pretty face, sweet lil’ smile, you could lure ‘em straight to me, they’d never see it comin’.”

“See… what coming?”

“My hands. The knife. A fuckin’ rock. Whatever, ‘s up to them.”

His words linger in the air, and you know you should say something, but how could you possibly respond to what he’s asking of you?

“You want me to… to kill—”

“No, no, ‘course not, babydoll. Wouldn’t even have to be in the room while it’s happenin’, would never ask my sweet girl to get her hands dirty like that. Jus’ gotta bring ‘em to me, tha’s all. Maybe go after ‘em if they try to run. I mean… you’d rather it be them than you, wouldn’t you sweetheart?” Joel’s hand closes in around your throat, and you understand now what he’s offering you—a deal. Your life in exchange for helping him grow his collection of victims, helping him satisfy his urges. He’s made you feel indebted to him, like you owe him something in exchange for letting you live tonight. He thinks he’s found something special in you, a victim who finally can’t run away from him, who won’t, now. There’s enough of a connection still here, although held together by fear, that he knows you won’t try escaping again. Because he saved you, the first time from starving on the side of the road, the second time from himself. And you owe him your life, now, in some form or another. 

You only nod against the pillow, but it seems to be enough for him.

Joel kisses the back of your head, breathing in the smell of your hair. “I love you, babydoll.”

His fingers press harder against your arteries, making it clear that you have no choice but to respond with what he wants to hear.

“I love you too, Joel.”

The words are still true, you think, somehow. But it just feels like you’re saying them to a stranger now.

You wish you would’ve listened to the one useful thing your mother had ever told you—not to talk to strangers, or you might fall in love.

tag list: tag list: @beefrobeefcal @iamasaddie @rebel-held @dilfgestivo @zliteraturehoe @joeldjarin @kamcrazy123 @hellowoolf @rexamongthestars @stevie75 @luxurychristmaspudding @noisynightmarepoetry @mewantpeepaw @pedritoferg @alex-does-art-things @evolnoomym @annoyingmarvelreader @k1l4ni @joelsdagger @hjzghi-blog @natalieispunk (if your name is crossed out, it won’t let me tag you!!)

[naughtyneganjdm]

Man for Hire - Chapter 2

Summary: The rest of the night continues after losing your virginity to Negan with the time you still have with him. (PART 1)

Characters: Negan & the reader (OC, second person)

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55642924/chapters/145590163

Warnings: 18+, Swearing, Smut, Daddy Kink, Unprotected P in V, Oral, No Use of Y/N, breeding kink, dirty talk, etc.

Notes: I decided to write a part two to this just because my brain felt like there needed to be more. I hope you enjoy! (gif credit: @jdmorganz)

It was amazing how good you felt. There was an ache that lingered inside of you, but you expected so much worse. After seeing how big Negan actually was beneath the belt, you thought by his size that you were going to hurt so much more than you actually did. You felt like you got lucky with the decision that you made. Negan knew how to take care of you and he did it well. You were surprised with how easily he could calm you. Even now, you were at a relaxed state with the sounds of his heavy breaths at the back of your neck. Having his arm laid across your waist almost in a dominant, possessive grasp didn’t make you feel like you were having a one-night stand with a stranger. It made you feel like you belonged to him and that you were his. Maybe it should have bothered you, but it didn’t.

Looking over your shoulder, you let out a long exhale knowing that you were feeling things for this man that you shouldn’t have. Hell, you barely knew him, but you felt like you were hooked on him and that was probably a bad thing. With him sleeping comfortably behind you, you knew that you could get used to this whole thing. And that worried you.

Shifting underneath Negan’s arm, you went to get up hearing his breathing change as you pulled yourself to the edge of the bed, “Where are you going?”

“I have too much energy to sleep,” you explained, looking back over your shoulder in time to see him rolling onto his back to rub at his eyes. The sheet pulled at his hips lowering just enough for you to see the base of his cock where the dark curls of hair surrounded his body that you had gotten used to today. Even though that website you looked at was filled with men that had the bodies of gym rats, you were more drawn to a body like Negan’s. Slender with a small patch of soft flesh beneath his bellybutton. His Adonis belt was more than enough to kickstart your heart in your chest again when you reached out to sweep your fingers over the lines at his hips. It made him faintly smile, his hand lowering down to caress his fingers in over your pulse point. Even tired, his dimples drew attention to that certain charm that he carried.

“I’ll order something from room service for us,” you offered and he gave you a firm nod. “I didn’t really eat today.”

“Sounds good,” he gave you a wink and you could tell that he was trying to wake himself up. Bringing your wrist up, he placed a delicate kiss over the inside of your wrist. It had your breath catching in your throat and you knew that he was aware of what he was doing to you.

Pulling yourself up from the bed after he released your wrist, you headed toward the bathroom to grab one of the robes that they had hanging there. Pulling it on, you walked into the sitting area hearing the sound of movement behind you. Looking over your shoulder, you felt a breath catch in your throat at the sight of him. He had gotten up from the bed and was stretching out his long, slender body. Tipping his head back had the corner of his jaw flexing and there was a slight curve to his back with the way he stretched out his arms. Yawning, he brought his fingers up to stroke them through his now messy hair. Watching him had you smiling involuntarily. Everything about him was breathtaking. There he was standing naked at the middle of your hotel room and you couldn’t believe that was the man you lost your virginity to. He was such a beautiful specimen of a man and you felt like you lucked out.

“You’re staring,” his raspy voice finally pulled your attention away from nearly gawking at him. Your heart skipped a beat, but he seemed to be enamored with the way you were looking at him. A smirk tugged at his lips and he gave you a wink. “I’ll be back.”

Giving him his space, you watched long enough to see him get into the bathroom before going back to order something for the two of you to eat and drink.

“How are you feeling?” Negan’s voice surprised you as he moved into the room with you, pulling together the tie of the robe that he had grabbed for himself to wear. You were almost charmed with the smile that was over his face when he stared down at you. Sliding to the middle of the couch, you gave him room to sit and he dropped down beside you. Wiggling his fingers, he urged you toward him and you did it without question. Bracing his back against the arm of the couch, Negan helped you sit in his lap with both of your legs stretched out on the couch while he wrapped you up in his arms from behind. Nuzzling his nose against the side of your neck, Negan hummed when your fingers hooked with his.

“Better now that I’m in your arms,” you muttered with him snickering against your flesh. It was a ridiculous line, but it was truthful. Together the two of you were facing the large glass panel of the windows in the hotel suite and the lights from the city were still bright drawing your attention.

“Well my arms like having you in them,” Negan nipped at your jawline with a slur. The simple motion drew chills down your spine. You didn’t mean to, but the exhale that you released obviously showed that you were upset hearing that. “What’s wrong?”

“I know you don’t mean that,” you pointed out, sweeping your fingers over the back of his hand when he squeezed you in closer to him. “You are so good at your job, it almost feels real.”

“What about tonight hasn’t been real?” Negan inquired, the warmth of his breath sending chills throughout your body with how close he was to you. It was what you wanted to hear, but you also knew he should have been honest with you. “The two of us shared a very intimate moment together with you having sex for the first time. I very much enjoyed it. And I do like spending time with you. No bullshitting.”

“You don’t know me and I know nothing about you,” you reminded him, tipping your head back finding yourself in awe with the way his long eyelashes fluttered with him looking at you. “Other than the fact you are super charming and incredibly hot.”  

“I think you and I know more about each other than you think,” Negan grumbled under his breath and you rolled your eyes. “The two of us have connected in a way you never have with anyone else. I think that’s a pretty big deal.”

“You know what I mean,” you suggested, tipping your head back enough to notice the amusement in his eyes when he stared down at you.

“Some people you don’t have to know completely to connect with them. Sometimes you just fucking click,” Negan responded which made you smirk. You would have loved for that to have been the case.

“You’re still being paid to be here,” you frowned letting out a tight breath when he started pressing tiny kisses over your jawline. “I have to remind myself of that.”

“Sometimes with my job it helps introduce me to people that I may have never been able to meet. There are those rare cases where you meet someone that you appreciate having a moment with and you’re one of those people for me,” he informed you and you were still unsure with his response. “I don’t think you realize, I’ve put a lot of faith and comfort into this whole thing with you.”

“How so?” you wondered, getting more comfortable in his arms realizing just how at ease you actually were.

“I told you I don’t have unprotected sex with people. It was kind of a big deal. I had to put my trust in you, just like you did me,” Negan explained, peppering faint kisses over your jawline. “Fuck. That’s intimate as hell. I don’t care how much people beg or offer me extra money. I’m not gonna do that. But I did it with you. That alone makes us have a bond.”

“You’re good,” you hummed enjoying the kisses that he was pampering you with over your jawline. It had you turning your head slightly so he could bring your lips together for another kiss that drew chills down your spine. When he pulled away, it took your breath away when he nudged your nose with his in almost an affectionate moment.

“What do you wanna know about me? I’ll be honest with you about everything. Anything you wanna know.”

Turning in his arms, you braced yourself over his waist and Negan tipped his head back to rest it against the arm of the couch. His hands caressed up over your hips toward your lower back in a soothing motion. The top of the robe that he was wearing parted revealing a large part of his chest and the dark curls of hair that were there. Loosely hooking your arms around his shoulders, your eyes narrowed and you tried to think of something to say.

“Are you dating someone?” you wondered, a smirk tugging at Negan’s lips when he lowered his stare. “That’s a yes.”

“That’s a no,” Negan corrected you, his head tipping to the side when he returned his gaze to yours. His Adam’s apple bounced in his throat when he gave a simple shrug of his shoulders. “I’m not dating anyone.”

“Are you married?” you questioned with Negan’s eyebrows arching up, drawing a sigh from deep within him. Hooking your fingers loosely around the necklace that he wore around his neck drew his eyes to the rings that were over his chest. “I kind of picked up on it when you first fell asleep.”

“I’m not married,” Negan shook his head. Your face twisted with disbelief and he sighed loudly. “I’m a widower. My wife died a few years ago.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you immediately apologized feeling like an asshole, your face flushing over with a warmth. You went to apologize, but Negan’s fingertips covered your lips and he shook his head. When he finally lowered his fingers, he swept his thumb in over your shoulder and you frowned. “That was rude of me.”

“You didn’t know,” Negan refused to let you feel bad about the whole thing. “Don’t worry about it.”

“What happened?” you knew that it was none of your business, but you reached out to stroke over the side of Negan’s face. There was definitely a change to his features once he brought up his late wife and you felt guilty for assuming.

“Cancer,” Negan’s answer was short with his eyes coming to a tight close, leaning into your touch like he cherished it.

“Was this your job when you were with her?” your curiosity had him laughing out, his dimples becoming more prominent when he gave you a shake of his head.

“She was gone a few years before I started this,” Negan answered you with a bit of amusement in his features. “She would have never been okay with me doing this when she was around. And rightfully so. You see…before all this,” Negan paused as if to consider what he was telling you. “I was a gym teacher.”

“Come on,” you chuckled with him nodding his head. “You were a gym teacher.”

“I was Coach Negan,” he almost seemed proud as he continued to tell you about his past. “But I have a temper and I ended up losing my job. I beat the hell out of one of the student’s fathers at a bar one day after he called my wife some very distasteful names. It makes me feel bad because we lived really poorly when my wife was alive. When she died, she had a lot of life insurance plans that I didn’t know about and I ended up inheriting a lump sum of money that she deserved to experience while she was alive.”

“So you don’t need this job then,” you concluded, your eyebrow raising in curiosity.

“No,” Negan confessed with a tip of his head. “I also enjoy the companionship because I was lonely. Plus, I’m good at this. So…”

“Do you have to sleep with everyone?” you pushed, sliding your hands down over his chest, playing with the dark hair that covered it.

“Technically, I’m an escort. Legally, all my job requires of me is giving people companionship. The only way I end up having sex with someone is if we both mutually agree to it,” the tone of his voice changed seeing the way that you smirked and he shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t have to sleep with people if I don’t want to. As long as I give them what they paid for, then I’m fine. Your situation was a bit different than what I’m used to. I think Michonne made an exception for you. My dates vary. There is the romantic dates where people are allowed to touch me, usually those kind of dates people expect something more if I’m comfortable. There are people who just want me to go to special events with them. Some people just want someone to give them company while they are in town. It really depends.”

“So you’ve turned away people with sex?” you inquired hearing him snicker. “I’m sorry for all the questions, I’m just curious. I know you’re what I assume is a high-end escort so you never know with the things that you hear.”

“I think people hear escort and think certain things naturally. I’m allowed to turn sex down. There is no promise of it when I show up,” Negan explained to you, his fingertips caressing up and over the planes of your back toward your neck. “I haven’t had too many crazy experiences though thank God.”

“Too many?” you teased him and he bit at his bottom lip. Leaning in, you pressed a kiss at the side of his neck where the visible vein was. “Let me guess. People get addicted to you. They get jealous. And they stalked you.”

“Something like that,” Negan grunted, tipping his head to the side so you had better access to kiss down over the side of his neck. “Not many people with the name Negan, you know?”

Nodding your head, you continued your kisses over his collarbone pushing the robe that was there aside. Noticing the freckles on his shoulder made you smile when you started peppering feather like kisses over his flesh.

“I’m lucky though because Michonne’s husband is a cop,” Negan explained with his fingers squeezing tighter at your body. Your kisses were doing something to him because his breathing started to grow broken. “He helped me take care of some things. Life is strange.”

Giving a nod, you didn’t want to pry too much since you thought you already overstepped your boundaries with the information about his wife.

“What about you?” Negan breathed, his palms lowering down to squeeze in over your full bottom making you exhale loudly. “How come you waited this long to lose your virginity? There had to be boys and men that were interested.”

“Sure, but you hold out for so long and then it just feels weird anytime you try to bring it up. I dated a few people, some that I thought I would give it up to but…” you paused, your head tipping back knowing that it would be stupid to probably go off about your woes. “Let’s just say I didn’t have the best luck with guys.”

“Why? There is absolutely nothing wrong with you,” Negan insisted dragging his fingers to the tie in your robe. Loosening it, he was careful in the way he pulled apart the material allowing it to fall to your sides. Grasping tightly to your bare hips, he palmed at your flesh before lifting his hands up to cup at your breasts to give them a firm squeeze.

“There is this woman that is in my friend group that kept stealing all my boyfriends. I don’t know why, but every time I started to really like someone she would swoop in and steal them away,” you explained with Negan wrinkling his nose in response. “All of the ones I thought I cared about, she swooped in and she used her charm.”

“Let me repeat what I think I just heard,” Negan began with a frown, biting at his bottom lip when he got more comfortable underneath you. “Your friends group? Why the fuck is that woman your friend and why would your friends be okay with that?”

“It’s something I’ve tried to understand my whole life. I guess some people are just really drawn to her,” you retorted with a frown hating that this was getting sad. “I just stopped trying to lose it after a while. One day I’d like to date someone, but I just kind of wanted this out of the way.”

“I see,” Negan scoffed, his thumb sweeping in over the swell of your breast toward your nipple. “Honey, I think you need to learn to separate yourself from a toxic crowd. It sounds like this woman has done it multiple times. Which is fucked up. We gotta work on your confidence and get you to be a bigger bitch.”

“Is that so?” you were amused with the way his nose wrinkled and he snorted before his thumb circled around your nipple. Dropping your head back, you released a long breath appreciating the way that he touched you.

“Very much so, yes,” Negan grunted from underneath you, lifting up to start pressing hot, wet kisses between the valley of your breasts. When his mouth covered your breast, the warmth of his tongue twisted around your nipple and it had you bracing your hands firmly over his chest. With a disappointed breath, Negan pulled away when he heard the sound of a knock on the door. “Room service.”

“Room service,” you pouted with a smirk, shakily getting up from Negan’s lap to pull together your robe. “I’m sorry.”

“What did you even get?” Negan wondered, his eyebrow arching in curiosity when you moved for the door.

“Oh, you know. Strawberries, whipped cream and champagne,” you answered, stopping to see his reaction. It kind of looked like he was disappointed and you found amusement in that.

“Oh, that’s…” Negan began, biting down on his bottom lip.

“Boring? Typical?” you stressed noticing the confusion in his eyes when you went for the door. Opening up, you accepted the pizza box that the man was holding and grabbed the soda that he brought up with it. Tipping him, you closed the door behind you and noticed that there was a smirk tugging at his lips. “You read like the type of guy who likes pizza.”

“My kinda girl,” Negan chuckled when you sat the pizza box down on the coffee table in front of him along with the soda. Going for the cups you had earlier, you placed one in front of Negan and one down for you. “Not that I would have had a problem with those things.”

“They’re a little too romantic for me,” you confessed taking a seat down next to Negan after he pulled himself up into a seated position. “I’m sure pizza is incredibly sexy to eat and you’ll want to fool around afterwards.”

“Listen, while I would love to eat whipped cream and strawberries off your body, the fact that you got pizza turns me on so much more,” Negan admitted to you with a big cheesy smile causing your heart to flutter when he flipped open the box to grab himself a piece. Taking a big bite of the piece of pizza, he gave you a wink and swallowed down hard.

“The pizza place downstairs stays open all night on the weekends and it’s supposed to be one of the best,” you pointed out, grabbing a piece for yourself and getting comfortable beside him. Negan was in a relaxed position beside you while he took another big bite of the pizza you had gotten. “I’m glad you’re not being one of those people who snubs your nose at real food.”

“Me?” Negan spoke with a mouthful of pizza causing you to smile. “Have you looked at me? I should be saying that about you.”

“You’re the escort,” you reminded him with him dramatically rolling his eyes and shifting on the couch. “Do you have a lot of repeat clients?”

“I do,” Negan nodded his head. Turning slightly so he could face you while you spoke to him.

“Did you ever date one of your clients?” you knew your curiosity could be pushing it, but you didn’t care. This might be the only time you saw Negan, although you highly doubted it. You were liking him way too much for that.

“You mean not for work?” Negan confirmed and you nodded your head. “It’s frowned upon. I don’t think Michonne would like that. It would probably give people the wrong kind of idea. Plus, I don’t think any significant other would be okay with me doing this.”

“Fair enough,” you watched him finish off his piece of pizza and reach for a napkin. He wiped his fingers off and looked at the box that was sitting before him. Waiting to see how long he debated getting a second piece made you smirk. “You can eat another one Negan.”

Bobbing his head about, Negan grabbed another piece and this time the cheese pull was so big that he was ridiculous in the way he was trying to get it into his mouth. It made you laugh and you almost felt like he was being silly just to get a reaction out of you.

“You’re an interesting person,” you stated after swallowing down your bite of pizza. “You’re suave, sophisticated, charismatic, charming, sexy…”

“Keep going,” Negan waved his hand about in the air, a snicker falling from his lips while he continued to eat his pizza. “This goes great for my ego. It’s big already, but I enjoy hearing this kind of stuff.”

“But you’re also silly, laid back and sweet,” you commented on what you had seen from him since he had been here. “You’re incredible at sex, but your real talent is making people feel good about themselves and feel seen. You don’t have to hide the real you from me you know. If you want to eat multiple pieces of pizza, I’m not going to care. I’m not going to find you suddenly unappealing because you eat.”

Shifting on the couch beside you, there was a muscle that twitched in his jaw and he sighed loudly, “The expensive suite and the really nice hotel made me think one thing before showing up here, but you’re really nothing like I expected you to be.”

“I hope that’s a good thing?” you returned back and it made him smile, but also quickly nod. “Maybe I wanted to impress you in some sort of way while also trying to make my first time as magical as it could be. As cheesy as that sounds.”

“You have impressed me. For your first time, that was really good,” Negan assured you with a nod of your head, his smile growing bigger when you rolled your eyes. “One of my favorites really.”

“And now you’re back to lying and doing your job,” you reached out to pat him on the thigh causing him to snort in amusement.

“I’m not,” Negan huffed after swallowing down hard. “I really enjoyed it. And I hope you did too.”

“I think you know I did,” you finished up, wiping your hands off to get them clean. “The only problem is starting with you because it can only go down from there. I’ll expect too much from other people because of how good you are.”

“I’m not lying to you when I tell you that you’re one of my favorites. Not just because of the sex,” Negan insisted again, his eyebrows bouncing up when he spoke. “Not many people ask about me. They have this fantasy and they want to be focused on. You’re one of the only people that actually wanted to learn about me and know me.”

With a weak smile, you outstretched your hand and brushed your fingers into Negan’s dark hair. It had his long eyelashes fluttering to a close and he seemed to enjoy your touch. Caressing at his scalp in a tender sweep, you leaned forward and pressed a lingering kiss at Negan’s temple. When you pulled back, his hazel eyes were staring out at you with an expression you hadn’t quite seen from him yet.

There was something that felt different between the two of you while Negan finished off the last piece of his pizza, “You’re being serious about the whole not having unprotected sex with your clients thing?”  

“Why would I lie about that?” Negan responded with a long sigh. “My wife was the last time I did that.”

You both went silent for a minute and you didn’t really know what to say. It got to the point where you thought about Negan leaving in the morning. You’d really enjoyed his company, but at the end of the day it was just a business transaction between the two of you. A dream scenario that you handpicked for yourself. You’d never be able to tell anyone about it other than your best friend, but it was something that you knew you’d never forget.

Sliding forward, you brushed your fingers against the side of Negan’s face and it had his eyes connecting with yours. The way you touched him had him leaning in closer to you, “I’m glad I did this Negan. I may have never been able to meet you otherwise and you are not someone I think I’ll ever forget. You’re perfect.”

Negan’s eyes closed when you traced over his masculine features. Your fingers etched over the scar at the side of his face and you tipped forward to press a kiss over his cheek. Pulling away had him exhaling loudly as you stood up from the couch.

“I’m going to go brush my teeth so I don’t have pizza breath all night,” you declared, pointing toward the bathroom. “I think they have a brand-new toothbrush you can use if you like.”

It didn’t take long for Negan to join you in the bathroom before you were both in front of the mirror brushing your teeth together. It seemed like Negan was paying close attention to you and it felt like the mood changed slightly after what you said.

A moment later, Negan playfully nudged you with his hip and you rolled your eyes. It still got a smile out of you though. Once you were both done, you were cleaning up a bit before you felt Negan moving in behind you. Grasping onto your hips, Negan lowered down allowing the warmth of his breath to hover over your neck. It had a breath catching in your throat and you leaned back closer to him when his lips faintly pressed in over your flesh. Each kiss grew in strength with him pampering your neck with wet kisses that had chills flooding throughout your veins.

Having the mirror to watch his reflection in enhanced the sensation so much more. Not only did it feel incredible, but getting to see him do it? Well that was an extra added bonus. Nipping at your flesh, his finger grasped a hold of the material of your robe to push it away from your shoulder. Trailing his lips down over your neck and toward your shoulder had you tipping your head to the side, enjoying the way it felt with him leaving tiny bites at your flesh before kissing over it. Purring out, you felt the sensation of his fingers curling around your throat. In most cases you didn’t know if you would trust other people grasping your throat like he was, but the way he did it left you hotter than you could begin to imagine. Lifting his eyes, Negan stole a quick look at you in the mirror with a wicked smirk tugging at his handsome lips. Outstretching his fingers, he grasped a tight hold of your jaw and growled when he nuzzled his nose in against the side of your neck.

Dropping his free hand down, Negan’s fingers started loosening the knot in your robe to get it apart. Once the material started to separate, it took no time for him to push it from your body helping it to drop down to pool around your ankles. Every part of you felt like it was on fire with the way that his eyes ate every inch of your body alive in the reflection of the mirror.

Gasping out, you felt his free arm curling around your waist to pull you flush against him. The hold he had on you was possessive with his palm caressing up over your abdomen drawing lines over your flesh. As the warmth of his palm etched under your breasts, it had you exhaling loudly causing him to smile. Cupping one of your breasts, he tested the flesh in his grasp. An extended sigh fell from your parted lips with his fingertips circling over your nipple turning it to a hardened peak. It was obvious by the way he was that Negan liked to be in control of things, but you liked it.

“You are so fucking beautiful,” Negan slurred with his kisses pressing over your ear, nipping at your earlobe when you braced your hands over the bathroom counter. Turning your head slightly, you met his lips in a drawn-out kiss that took your breath away. You wondered if there was something this man wasn’t good at because so far? He was doing a hell of a job making you swoon over every aspect of him. Breaking away, Negan slid his hands down over your body to grab a tight hold of your hips. His right hand slid in over the small of your back, tracing up over the planes of it toward your shoulders. Putting a small amount of pressure there, he got you to lean forward bracing your hands on the counter. Staring at his expressions in the mirror, you felt a lump growing in your throat when his palms squeezed over your fleshy bottom. “I can’t get enough of you.”

“I was thinking the same thing about you,” you purred catching the smirk that tugged at his handsome features when his eyes lifted to meet your stare in the mirror. Biting down on your bottom lip, you moaned when he lowered down to start pressing kisses down your back. A breath caught in your throat when Negan lowered down behind you, his hands squeezing firmly at your thighs. Urging you to spread your legs, a growl fell from his throat when your body was fully exposed to him.

“You have such a pretty little pussy,” Negan rumbled, the warmth of his breath lingering over your flesh. Dropping your head forward, you enjoyed the way that Negan’s hands caressed over your body before pressing in over your cheeks to spread your flesh to get better access to your tight hole. Leaning in, Negan teased the tip of his tongue over your entrance enticing you with the idea of him pleasuring you and it had you mewling out. Faint kisses followed with your eyes closing tightly making it easy for you to focus on what he was doing. Each movement of his mouth over your body grew wetter, his slurping causing a whimper to fall from your throat. Grasping tighter to the counter, your heart hammered in your chest with the way he was focusing on your entrance with his tongue delving inside of you delivering you some of the most extreme, unexpected pleasure of the night. Whining out when he pulled his head back had him snickering. His rough fingertips replaced his mouth, teasing long lines up and over your sensitive folds. “Fuck, you are driving me crazy.”

“Negan,” you panted his name when he circled his fingers over your entrance before pushing his middle finger unhurriedly into the depths of your warmth.

A pleased sound escaped him in a deep rumble of a groan. The pull back and push forward of his long slender digit inside of you had you biting down firmly on your bottom lip. When he inserted another finger, you whined out enjoying the ways in which he had already learned your body after one time with him. Rhythmically his fingers moved inside of you, leaving your thighs tremoring with the motions. Balancing your weight better over the counter, you heard Negan humming to himself which was followed by him nipping at your bottom.

“I think you’re ready for me,” Negan declared pulling his fingers from your body when he carefully raised up from the ground. Your body was so eager for an orgasm that he had worked up inside of you, but it almost felt like when he got you just about there, he stopped on purpose. Behind heavy eyelids, you watched in the mirror as Negan very slowly undid the knot in his robe. You’d seen him naked before, but you didn’t want to miss it as the material parted. Shimmying out of the robe, Negan let it slide down his arms and drop at his feet allowing you to see his naked form in the reflection. Lifting his fingers up to his lips, Negan licked at the tips before lowering his palm back down to curl his fingers around his solid manhood. “Y’know, you turned out to be quite the surprise.”

“In a good way I hope,” you gazed back over your shoulder to steal a look at his straining erection while he unhurriedly stroked over his body. Stepping in behind you, Negan released his cock letting it bob with his movement. Gasping, you dropped your head back down when Negan’s grasp over your hips moved you where he needed you. Watching Negan in the mirror now, you could see his jaw flexing when he squeezed at your bottom.

“In the best of ways,” Negan retorted with a growl, the weight of his cock resting over your bottom drawing your hips back closer to him. It had him smiling with how eager you were, but he just curled his fingers around the base of his erection, tapping it against your flesh. “Most virgins, they act shy and scared. But not you. You didn’t even flinch when you saw me naked.”

“Because I knew I wanted you more than anything,” you admitted, licking your lips feeling your pulse jumping in your throat when Negan’s eyes lifted. An amused expression filled Negan’s features with what you said. Taking one step back, Negan teased the tip of his cock over the length of your sex collecting your arousal over it. Repeatedly he teased himself up over your body before down again. “Please.”

“You are something else,” Negan snickered, bending his knees slightly to smack his cock up against your clit which had you whimpering out. After a few repeated movements, Negan pulled back and smirked. Lining his body up with yours, he pushed his hips forward. Moaning out in unison, you kept your eyes locked on his when he took his time filling you again. “Good girl.”

Pushing his hands up your sides, Negan caressed over the lengths of your body when he bottomed out inside of you. Curling his hands around the front, his rough fingertips drew lines over your abdomen before meeting your breasts to cup them in a tender squeeze. Staring down, Negan licked his lips when he pulled his hips back drawing his cock almost completely out of you before thrusting forward sinking almost completely into you again.

“You take daddy’s big cock so well. And you want every inch of it,” Negan slurred, biting down on his bottom lip when he started a slow pace between you. Every smack forward of his hips drew forth a loud sound that echoed, but got you loved it. “You like me being balls deep inside of you. You just shake in euphoria. I can see in your eyes…”

“I’ve never felt anything like it,” you cooed, bracing your right hand better on the counter before reaching back with your left hand to grasp at his hips. “Harder.”

With a deep rumble of a growl, Negan stepped in closer to you having you gasp out. His right hand covered yours, hooking his fingers with yours and then his left hand braced on the counter. Giving you what you asked, his hips thrusts grew stronger with his lower abdomen smacking up against your bottom.

“God, you are so fucking perfect,” Negan rumbled, his left hand lifting to curl around your jaw. Using a bit of force had him pulling you back close to him with him kissing down over your jawline. Nipping at your flesh had you wincing, but you liked the way he made you feel like you belonged to him. “Your hot, tight little pussy feels so good around my big cock. You know that?”

“Negan,” you panted his name, fighting to keep your eyes open with the way he was smacking up against you. Your hips were pressed against the counter and you were up on your tip toes. The deep plunges of his body felt absolutely incredible like this, but you were having a hard time staying on your feet. “Fuck…”

Letting go of your fingers, Negan’s right hand dropped between your thighs. His rough fingertips finding your sensitive bundle of nerves while he caressed over it in unison with his thrusts. Your moans grew louder and by the expression over his face he was pleased.

“Take a good look at yourself. You should be proud,” Negan kissed at your jawline again, nipping at your earlobe afterwards. “You knew what you wanted and you took it. You took it like a fucking boss and no one can ever take that from you.”

Your heart was hammering in your chest. The wet sounds his body was making inside of you was driving you crazy. Negan stretched you, filled you in ways that you could never imagine and he made sure you were focused so you could feel every ounce of it.

“Look at how fucking beautiful you are,” Negan palmed down over your chest, grasping firmly to your breast while he fucked you. “You are so fucking perfect.”

Whining out, you dropped your head back against his shoulder when your thighs started to tremble, your hips rocking back against his movements. Negan bit at your neck, peppering kisses afterwards in a soothing fashion. He was going to leave a mark, but you didn’t care. Your breathing grew louder, the sounds of your heart pulsating in your head letting you know he was bringing you right to the edge. A few more sharp thrusts forward had you crying out, a liquid rush of warmth flooding your entire body when he snickered against your flesh.

“Good girl,” Negan praised you, stopping his movements to experience your orgasm as your body flexed around his. Licking his lips in a drawn-out fashion, Negan pulled his cock from your body, but his movements were fast when he hooked his arm around your waist to turn you and set you down on top of the counter. Pulling you to the edge of it, Negan led his manhood back to your ready entrance. Sinking back into you with ease, the vein at the side of Negan’s neck bulged and it had you bracing your hands back on the counter. “Watch my big cock fucking you…”

Doing as you were told, you dropped your head down seeing every pull back and push forward of his girthy length as it moved inside of you, “Who does your tight little pussy belong to?”

“It belongs to you,” you panted, hissing out when you felt Negan’s fingers curling around your throat. Meeting his stare, Negan stepped closer to you causing you to whine with him filling you completely again. Capturing your lips with his, Negan demanded you to kiss him. It was powerful, it was wet and it was everything you wanted in that moment. You wanted to be made his and it felt like he was claiming that ownership on you. Brushing his tongue against yours had you purring out, your arms clinging around his shoulders with his thrusts now growing faster. With a wet sound, your mouths separated and Negan smiled. “It’s all yours.”

“Yes, it is,” Negan agreed with a wickedly sexy smile tugging at his features. His hair had grown slightly damp with sweat, clinging to his flesh. “I could just fuck you all day and night. You know that? You feel so fucking good.”

“Negan,” your nails bit into his shoulders and you wondered if it was bad that you did that, but it was involuntary. You didn’t mean to, but he didn’t seem to care when his lips tampered off over the side of your neck. Palming up over the back of his neck, you sank your fingers into his hair and panted in his ear. “Your big cock feels so good inside of me.”

With an amused rumble, Negan hooked his arm around your body picking you up with his strength. Grasping tightly to him, you were surprised with his strength when he carried you out of the bathroom and to the living room. Dropping down with you over the couch, Negan urged your legs around his waist. Adjusting his positioning, Negan hovered his lips over yours and braced himself. The dark curls of hair from his chest teased against your nipples with the skin-to-skin contact. His hips started to roll over yours keeping himself pretty deeply inside of you to start.

“I never want to leave your fucking pussy,” Negan rumbled bringing your lips together in multiple sloppy kisses that had you sucking at his tongue. The sound of Negan’s moan was one of your favorite things so far. Knowing that you could draw that out from him made you feel so good about yourself. As each thrust grew harder, you felt his testicles smacking up against your flesh and you were thankful to have him filling you like this. It ached being stretched by his impressive cock, but you liked the way it felt. You were desperate for more of it.

“I never want you to leave,” you drew your tongue over his lips and he hummed in approval. Nipping at his bottom lip, you gave it a tug and the sound that fell from his throat was so delicious. Your heels dug into the flesh at his thighs with him smacking up against you. Outstretching his left arm, Negan grasped a hold of the arm of the couch to help him slow down his movements but make them harder. Smack. Smack. Each thrust was loud with your flesh hitting his. A smirk tugged at his lips, his head throwing back with a moan falling from his parted lips. His lower abdomen flexed, his throat tensing up with the way he was moving. “Do you like that pussy?”

“I fucking love that pussy,” Negan slurred with a nod, a line of sweat sliding down from his temple. “It feels so fucking good.”

“Pound my pussy. Please,” you begged and it had Negan snicker before nodding his head. You whined when he pulled his cock from your body with a wet sound. Pouting, it didn’t last long before he turned you onto your stomach. Lowering in over you, Negan curled his arm around your waist bracing himself with his left arm. He was back inside of you in seconds, his thrusts starting off immediately fast. Your cries were louder. In this position, his legs were surrounding yours, the warmth of his body radiant over your back making you feel trapped, but in the best of ways. “Oh my god…”

Negan’s lips kissed at your jawline, his moans matching yours. You were definitely going to be feeling this one later. You asked, he was delivering. Turning your head just enough, you begged for him to kiss you and he obliged. His tongue colliding with yours when you parted your lips just enough for him. His moans vibrated against your flesh and you purred out.

“Don’t stop,” you whined, keeping your lips pressed against his. You were growing incredibly sensitive, your hips pulling up, but his movements followed yours not allowing you to get away from him. Grasping tightly to the arm of the couch, you cried out when your body violently shook and an amused sound fell from Negan. Your head ached, your heart hammering when you felt the wetness at the back of your thighs.

“There is no bigger compliment than that of a woman squirting all over you,” Negan spanked at your ass, while you still trembled before him. Before you could even consider what was happening, Negan was back inside of you pounding away at your already sensitive body drawing you closer to the edge of the couch with your coos and cries. It wasn’t long before you were smacking at his thigh again having him pull back just in time for another wet sound to fill the room with Negan’s fingers caressing over your clit to enhance the extraordinary amounts of pleasure that followed. It left you breathless when Negan crawled in behind you to cuddle his face in against yours. “You are so much fun.”

“You’re going to kill me,” you announced with a tired breath and Negan snickered.

“Death by sex is a good way to go,” he retorted, nipping at your jawline again. “I’m so fucking glad I took this call tonight. You have easily become my favorite.”

Drawing kisses down over your shoulders and over the length of your back had you purring out. You were too worn out to move in that moment, but you enjoyed the way he cherished your body. The warmth of his lips over your spine made you take in a sharp breath before he squeezed at the flesh of your ass. When he nipped at your cheek it had you hissing out before looking over your shoulder at him.

“Sit,” you breathed out wondering if you had it in you to continue. With a smirk, Negan nodded and got into a seated position. His cock twitched and he growled out when you started to move on the couch. Stroking his fingers over his girthy length brought attention to the swollen tip. Moving carefully over him, you allowed him to lead his cock back into your wet hole and you whined. God, you were so fucking sensitive at this point. Reaching for Negan’s hands, you forced them against the back of the couch and he smiled a big wolfish type of smile.

Taking your time to get used to the control, you carefully lowered your hips down over him before lifting them up. It took a while for you to get used to it before you started a steady pace between the two of you.

“That cock is all yours sweetheart,” Negan muttered, his dimples prominent when you leaned in closer to hover your lips over his. “It’s all yours.”

“That’s exactly what I wanted to hear,” you dropped your hips down, taking all of him in which had him groaning out, his head dropping back against the couch. You shook over him, your fingers squeezing tighter to his. Circling your hips over his had his cock drawing slightly in and out of you with each movement you made. “I want you to come inside me. Fill my pussy with your cum.”

“Yes ma’am,” Negan started bouncing his hips up toward yours over and over again. Loud fleshy smacks surrounded the both of you with your jaw resting over Negan’s shoulder. You tried to keep up, but you let go of his hands allowing them to grasp your hips while he bounced you over his length. “You like the feeling of daddy filling you with his seed?”

“Yes,” you panted, trying to hold in your cries, but you couldn’t. “So much.”

“Daddy is gonna pump you so full of his cum that it’s going to be dripping down your thighs,” Negan promised with a smirk, forcing you forward. Gasping out, you were surprised with his quickness. Laying you out across the coffee table, Negan got on his knees keeping your hips right at the edge. “You’d make such a perfect little breeder wouldn’t you?”

“Yes daddy,” you felt his hands hooking with yours again while his hips bounced up into yours.

“With your perfect little wet pussy,” Negan hummed, the lines in his forehead growing while he had his way with you. “Just begging to have me come inside of you again and again…”

“Please,” you panted biting down on your bottom lip, lifting your hips to meet his thrusts.

“Fuck,” Negan dropped his stare looking down between the two of you, his thrusts growing stronger. “I’m gonna fill you up so good. Paint the walls of your pretty little pussy with my cum.”

“Yes daddy,” you gasped when you felt the first twitch of his cock inside of you. The sound of Negan’s moans and the slowing of his hips alerted you to his release. Crying out, you felt the table tipping having you both land on the floor with a thud. Taking advantage you rolled Negan onto his back and slowly rocked your hips over his still pulsating cock. “I want every…last…drop.”

Each moan you drew out of Negan delighted you and you loved the way the warmth of him filled you. He wasn’t wrong, you felt his cum starting to seep out of you dripping down your thighs and you liked it. It felt good. You felt like you were his and you couldn’t get enough of it.

Laying in over his chest, you didn’t pull your body away. He was still very much inside of you and Negan was left panting beneath you. Kissing at his chest, you teased your tongue over his nipple before sucking faintly at it. Lowering your head down, you listened to his heart pounding inside of his chest. Surprise filled your body when Negan wrapped you up in his arms and held you tightly to him.

“I uh…” Negan slurred, his Adam’s apple bouncing in his throat when you lifted your head from his chest to look up at him. “I don’t think I want you to belong to anyone else.”

“What do you mean?” you wondered, confused where he was heading with this.

“I mean, I want your pussy to be solely mine,” Negan confessed, his jaw flexing when he firmly smacked over your bottom making you arch forward, only slightly drawing his softening cock out of you. Dropping your hips back down had the most delicious groan falling from him. “I want to be the only man that can fill you with my cum. I want to be the man making you squirt…I want you to belong to me.”

“I can probably only afford this once or twice more,” you alerted him with a frown, starting to press faint kisses over his lips. “I wish I could. More than anything, I would love to be yours. But it’s a fantasy you’re selling and you sell it well. Trust me, I will pay for another date.”

“No,” Negan grumbled, rolling you over onto your back which had you whimpering out arching your hips up. His lips parted and he pulled his hips back. Finally allowing his softening cock to leave the warmth of your body. Staring down, Negan watched his cum pouring out of you before he got settled between your thighs. Unhurriedly, he collected some of his cum that spilled from your body. Pushing his fingers back inside of you, he made sure to rub his fingertips against the walls of your pussy. “I don’t want another man having you. I want you to be mine.”

“I want to be yours too,” you purred, arching your hips up seeing him smirk when he pulled his long slender digits from your body. Reaching for his hand, you wrapped your lips around his fingers to clean the taste of your bodies from them. It had him groaning out and he lowered down to steal kiss after kiss from you. Enjoying the taste of his release on your tongue.

The conversation almost felt forgotten with the two of you laying together on the floor. It was a while before you gathered yourselves enough to make it back to the bedroom. Being wrapped up in Negan’s arms felt incredible. Neither one of you really slept. You just laid there together. After the sun had started to rise, Negan had crawled in over you again. What was surprising was this time, it actually felt more romantic. Sensual. His thrusts were slow, his kisses more focused. The eye contact was incredible and it was more so about the two of you being connected. By the time his winces started to fill the air, you curled your fingers around the back of his neck and allowed him to nuzzle his nose against the side of your neck when his orgasm hit him. Your cries vibrated against his ear, while he moaned against your flesh.

Laying over you, you both seemed incredibly comfortable while you stroked your fingers through his hair. Looking to the clock, you felt a bit of disappointment when you saw the time, “Our time is up.”

“Just a little while longer,” Negan stammered against your flesh and you held him close. Pressing kisses over his freckle covered shoulders. When he did start to move, you felt miserable. It was a perfect dream that he sold during the night, but it wasn’t real. You always knew that. Negan threw his legs over the side of the bed, sitting on the edge of it for a few minutes. It looked like he was deep in thought while you pulled the blankets in closer to your body. “This really was amazing.”

“Yeah,” you nodded your head, a weak smile tugging at your lips. “I really liked spending the time with you. You’re phenomenal.”

“Right,” Negan chuckled, reaching out to squeeze over your exposed thigh that was out from the blanket. “You know, if we would have met another way…I would have loved…”

“Don’t say that,” you stopped him, feeling your chest aching at the thought. “You told me yourself you don’t date people. It’s against the rules. You like this job. And I’m just a job…”

“It’s against the rules to have unprotected sex with a client,” Negan reminded you, his jaw flexing as if he was contemplating his next thought. Well, there you couldn’t call him out because he had been very honest with you. “We did it several times. Which brings me to my next point, I don’t usually sleep with my clients that much. Nor do I still want to stay when my time is up.”

“I almost believe you with that last point,” you reached for his hand, bringing it to you so you could deposit a kiss against the center of his palm. “I’m sure you’ve had plenty of clients that you liked just as much and didn’t want to leave in the morning.”

Frowning, Negan swallowed down hard and stood up from the bed. Going for his pants, Negan pulled them on slowly and stood by the side of the bed looking down at you.

“I’ll be sure to let Michonne know how amazing this was. How professional you were,” you stressed and it had Negan’s right eyebrow arching up. “Job well done, Negan. You’ll have a return customer. Just maybe only one or two more times.”

“Yeah,” Negan bit down on his bottom lip, something in his hazel eyes making the moment feel awkward. “I mean it when I say if things were different, I really would want you to be mine. I meant what I said when we were together in the living room. It’s just with my job, I know that I would get fired and…”

“I paid you to take my virginity Negan,” you reminded him, pulling the blanket in closer to you realizing how pathetic that actually sounded. “You didn’t come here because you wanted a date with me. You had a job, you did your job and you did it well. You don’t have to keep selling me on the romance because I know I’m just a job. I know I wouldn’t be your type. In the real world, this would have never happened. But thank you for allowing me that fantasy.”

Caressing his hand over the side of his face, Negan dragged his fingers out through his short beard and shrugged his shoulders, “You’re not like the other ones.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you breathed out knowing like hell that you wanted to be the one special person to make Negan want to break all the rules, but it didn’t logically make any sense. You were just some virgin. There was nothing you brought to the table for a man like that. “So you’re telling me you’ve never told another one of your clients that if things were different you would have no problem dating them?”

Silence followed. Negan’s head tipped to the side, his lips parted and he looked like he wanted to say something. Instead he lowered his head and a loud exhale fell from his throat, “That’s what I thought. I’m not the first person you used that line on.”

“You’re the first person I meant it with,” Negan suggested almost in a whisper, but you had a hard time letting that protective wall down. It was an amazing thought, but he was still telling you that it could never happen.

“I don’t know why you’re saying this to me when at the end of the day, it’s never going to happen anyways. It’s only going to hurt me hearing this shit. You don’t have to keep selling your feelings on me. Like you said, you can’t do it and you’ll lose your job. It’s not happening,” you stressed what he said and you slid up in the bed resting your back against the headframe. “I just don’t want to hear the bullshit. You don’t mean it. You sold me on you. I’d rather you be honest. This was a great fantasy you sold. I don’t need you to tell me that you wish you could date me. I’m not going to get my lines crossed. I know this was a business transaction. One that I will be feeling for a while. Thank you.”

“Yeah,” Negan swallowed down hard, taking a moment to stand there before nodding his head. “You really are the only one I’ve had unprotected sex with.”

“I believe that,” you stammered looking to the time feeling like this was just getting more and more awkward with him trying to make you feel special.

“No one ever tried to learn about the real me either,” Negan informed you, his fingers clenched together in fists at his side. “The rest of them just want to talk about themselves. No one ever cares about the real me. What I’m about. About my late wife…”

“And that’s unfortunate because I think you’re a very likable guy that deserves real love Negan,” you declared with a bounce of your eyebrows. An expression flooded his features that you couldn’t quite read, but it didn’t last long before he nodded. Heading off throughout the room, Negan collected his clothes and put them on haphazardly. Keeping his jacket in his hand at his side, Negan pointed toward where you were laying on the bed. “Yeah?”

“Are you staying?” Negan questioned and you shrugged.

“I paid for the room until noon, I might as well stay and enjoy the view,” you explained pointing toward the window having Negan dramatically nod his head. “Thank you again.”

Negan shifted on his feet looking between you and the door. Then his eyes fell on the clock. It was quite some time after he was supposed to leave. Motioning him to wait, you reached for something from the top drawer of the nightstand that was beside the bed. Pulling something out had his eyes looking down to see that you had more money that was there.

“Here, take this as a tip,” you outstretched your hand, trying to hand him over the money. Shaking his head, Negan refused and you sighed. “You said you slept with me more than you did most people. Tipping you is allowed, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Negan breathed out still refusing to reach for the money. “I don’t want your money.”

“That’s a little ironic, isn’t it?” you dropped your hand seeing Negan shrug his shoulders and make a dramatic expression.

“I did it because I wanted to. Not because you forced me to,” Negan stressed once more hearing his phone buzzing in his pocket. Frowning, Negan pulled his phone out of his pocket and looked at who it was before swiping it away. Pushing it back into his pocket, Negan bit down on his bottom lip and frowned. “Keep your money.”

“Was that Michonne?” you were curious. With one nod of his head it made you smirk. “She’s probably checking in to see how things went.”

“Yeah,” Negan was short with his answer, biting down on his bottom lip before backstepping toward the door. “I guess I should go.”

Instead of saying anything, you sighed and put your money back since Negan refused to take it.

“Do you want a kiss?” Negan offered, throwing his hand up and you laughed, giving him a strange look. “What?”

“No more bullshit,” you repeated what you had said earlier and he frowned. “You don’t want to kiss me. It’s okay. You can leave. I promise you I’m happy with what you did.”

“Okay,” Negan huffed rubbing at the back of his neck again before heading back toward the door. Opening it up, you felt a sudden rush of depression knowing that this whole incredible night was just something that was made up. Closing your eyes, you dropped your head back and wanted the world to swallow you whole. The sound of the door opening was heard, but you never heard it close. A moment later you felt the bed dip, the sensation of lips claiming yours kissing you over and over again before pulling unhurriedly away. “I do want to kiss you goodbye. No bullshit.”

Slowly, your eyes fluttered to an open with Negan sweeping his thumb over your bottom lip to collect the wetness that was over them. Gradually moving back, Negan gave you a wink before heading for the door. Once he left, you knew that you would never tell anyone about this moment in full. It was too incredible. Too personal and you just knew that you couldn’t think too much into it.

When it hit noon, you had the hotel room cleaned up, you were dressed in your casual clothes and you were headed down to the first floor to check out. The dream was over and you were going to feel it for a while. Once you stepped out of the line, you went to head for the door until you heard someone calling out to you.

“Excuse me, miss…” a familiar raspy voice called out to you and you turned on your heel to see that Negan was sitting in the waiting area at the front of the hotel. Getting up from his seat, he moved before you and offered a weak smile. “I know this is bold, but I just saw you walking by and I just had to say hello. My name is Negan…”

“What are you doing?” you laughed looking down at his hand. Bouncing his eyebrows, Negan nodded toward his hand and you accepted the gesture. “You’re not on the clock anymore Negan.”

“No, you see, I was just sitting here after a long night,” Negan pointed back over toward where he was waiting and he shrugged his shoulders. “And then I saw you…and I just realized that I had to take my shot. I was wondering if maybe you weren’t busy you would want to get some coffee or maybe some lunch with me today?”

“Like a date?” you whispered, confusion flooding your veins. Your question made him smile and he nodded slowly.

“Like a date,” he repeated, his fingers curling around yours tightly. “You see, I’m not working today and I am just completely enchanted by you.”

“Negan…” you stammered his name when he stepped forward and the warmth of his body sent a rush of excitement throughout your veins just having him near you since you didn’t know when you’d ever see him again. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I don’t have to do anything. In fact, I run away from the idea of something like this because I’ve never made that kind of connection with someone in a long time. But I want to get to know you,” Negan reasoned with you, his free hand lifting to brush his thumb over your jaw. “But this is something that I want to do. That is…if you’ll have me that is.”

“Absolutely,” you smirked, your heart hammering in your chest with the way he was staring down at you. “What about the rules? The possibility of losing your job?”

“Michonne doesn’t have to know every aspect of my life,” Negan insisted, his dimples becoming more prominent as he spoke. “You’re worth the risk.”

“So I keep hearing,” you were enamored by how he kept saying that toward you. Considering he waited for you that whole time made you swoon. It was hard to deny him after that and the way he approached you. “I do have to warn you though Negan. I’m a little hard to get.”

“Good, me too,” Negan teased with a wrinkle of his nose which had the both of you laughing. “You ready to go?”

“With you?” you muttered and it had him nodding. “I’ll go anywhere.”

----

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@promiscuousbarnes @tone-stark @lanadelnegan @peachihellcat

[thatfeelinwhenyou]

KINDRED — yang jungwon

It’s your final year of highschool, and your only goal is to graduate top of your cohort, as usual. Except as student council president, your advisor can’t seem to leave you alone. What happens when you take Decelis Academy’s top student, their star taekwondo athlete and put them in front of a camera?

“Kindred” a student documentary. Pilot episode airing tonight on TVN 7PM KST.

PAIRING: athlete!jungwon x stucopres!fem!reader

FEATURING: enhypen, yunjin from lesserafim, ryujin and chaeryeong from itzy, chanelle from runext, beomgyu and taehyun from txt, wonyoung from ive, gunwook and gyuvin from zb1 etc.

GENRE: high school au, enemies to lovers, nerd x athlete, forced proximity, slice of life, coming of age, he fell first and harder, fluff, ANGST, teen drama, slow burn ish?

WARNINGS: contains profanities, horrible attempt at humour, urban lingo, probably cringy, kys/kms jokes, depression jokes, sexual innuendos (nothing too inappropriate), depiction of violence, family drama, incorrect timestamps/information, no fixed faceclaims, not proofread etc.

STATUS: completed! (01/09/2023 – 18/03/2024)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: please read! story concept is heavily inspired by the kdrama ‘our beloved summer’ other than that the storyline is completely original (or so i assume since i manifested this out from the crevices of my pea brain). chapters with ‘(hw)’ next to them indicates that they are half-written, in case y’all skip over it! as always, the content and depiction of the characters in this smau do not in anyway represent them in real life. lastly, if you do end up enjoying, please do like, comment (love reading your comments btw), and reblog so this can reach!! without further ado, enjoy!

TAGS: #tfwy kindred #tfwy smau

TEASER

profile. one | two | three

episode 1 - ratatouille and the underdogs

episode 2 - one way ticket to university

episode 3 - do you take constructive criticism?

episode 4 - unsolicited but appreciated

episode 5 - the art of benevolence

episode 6 - taekwondo-anti

episode 7 - beating the mentally ill allegations

episode 8 - can’t help it, i’m a libra

episode 9 - operation we-don’t-really-hate-each-other (hw)

episode 10 - she’s an oscar award winning actress

episode 11 - someone like me (hw)

episode 12 - ‘female-lead-realising-the-bad-boy-isnt-actually-that-bad’ arc

episode 13 - 5 foot 9 garfield meets avatar

episode 14 - yn the heterosexual

episode 15 - the ynwon getting closer montage :p

episode 16 - to the moon and back

episode 17 - eat 2 left toes

episode 18 - you are approved! (hw)

episode 19 - asking for a friend

episode 20 - rediscovering won’s ability to love

episode 21 - beomgyu’s 99999 eq

episode 22 - ynwon get together or else >:(

episode 23 - “hate”

episode 24 - not all problems can be solved with a formula

episode 25 - H.O.M.E.W.R.E.C.K.E.R

episode 26 - collecting facebook milfs like pokémons

episode 27 - you were brighter than the moon (hw)

episode 28 - she's studious not stupid

episode 29 - the garden is full of surprises (hw)

episode 30 - weapon of mass destruction

episode 31 - the name above me (hw)

episode 32 - no offense but she’s a cockblocker

episode 33 - the bane of my existence (hw)

episode 34 - risky risky wiggy wigi this is an emergency

episode 35 - live my life on my terms (hw)

episode 36 - separation anxiety goes crazy

episode 37 - paparizzki

episode 38 - is it too late now to say Sorry?

episode 39 - everything will work out just the way you want it to (hw)

episode 40 (finale) - her entire being is loveable (written)

epilogue - kindred, signing off part 1 | part 2

bonus chapters!

yunjin x heeseung

i can fight

Copyright© 2023 thatfeelinwhenyou All Rights Reserved

[givemethethrill]

Dating Not Allowed (L.D.H)

SUMMARY : in her 18 years of life, y/n has never had a boyfriend. her parents always made it clear that as long as she's living with them, she should not get herself a boyfriend. her closest, bestest friend, since ever, ningning, has always tried to set her up with boys from her class, but it would never work out. two months before her high school graduation, y/n is fed up with everything and decides to download tinder, where soon someone might steal her heart.

GENRE : SMAU (some written parts, especially in the beginning), older!haechan x highschool to college student fem!reader, strangers to lovers to strangers to lovers (its quite confusing but you'll get the hang of it lol), fluff, a lot of flirting, angst (just a bit), a big time skip, humor, she fell first, he fell harder kinda vibes, toxic relationship, one sided love at first

WARNINGS : profanity, sexual and death jokes, ill update as i post more

PLAYLIST : jasmine dpr live, off to the races lana del rey, so beautiful dpr ian, dfhmpu ari abdul, stay ari abdul, biscuit chanmina

NOTES : hi! this is my first ever smau, and au in general, and my first long series kinda commitment lol, so please feel free to correct me in any way, shape or form! this series is somewhat based on my life (cause who doesnt love a good y/n moment) but its more of a what would have happened if ... etc etc. i hope you enjoy reading this as much as i enjoy writing it and im hopeful that there will be frequent updates, but im currently stumped with work and will be going to uni soon! thank you for reading and i hope you have a great day!!

TAGLIST : @sundamariis @p-d1ddy @bananinhazz @lostinneocity @aerivrs @n0hyuck @hyuoonp @amrqxz @haenahc @theandypark @nctrawberries @finnydraws @minkyuncutie ; OPEN

CHAPTERS

profiles 1. : y/n and the whores

profiles 2. : haechan and his hate club

intro : what the fuck is tinder

ch.1 : hot guy alert

ch.2 : baby steps

ch.3 : scaring the hoes away

ch.4 : men are weird

[yourartmatters-itswhatgotmehere]

new favorite video, yes!!❤️🤍💙 #RWRB #RWRBMovie #RedWhiteAndRoyalBlue thank you Aneesh!!

!! more VERY IMPORTANT RWRB content in this post: https://yourartmatters-itswhatgotmehere.tumblr.com/post/739408729011781632/rwrb-this

Henry Fox & Arthur Fox-post here: https://yourartmatters-itswhatgotmehere.tumblr.com/post/738761008290627584/when-alex-texted-henry-yo-theres-a-bond

----from: https://instagram.com/p/C1POyPot_ZC/

+ CMQ spotify (characters' playlists!!) https://open.spotify.com/user/p873j0jdmqn5hye7cakdnub7e/playlists

my RWRB instagram highlight here: https://www.instagram.com/stories/highlights/18198132073262637/

BTW for everyone interested: Red, White & Royal Blue: Collector's Edition Henry PoV bonus chapter by Casey Mcquiston : https://www.tumblr.com/yourartmatters-itswhatgotmehere/752528941905018880?source=share

+ also queer history/facts from RWRB(Alex engaging with queer history)(thank you SO. MUCH. CASEY MCQUISTON!!)-GREAT POST here on tumblr!!-many links here, lots of information! (Waterloo Vase, Stonewall, SCOTUS decision 2015, Walt Whitman, Laws of Illinois 1961, The White Nights Riots, Paris Is Burning, THAT David Wojnarowicz photo 'If I Die Of AIDS-Forget Burial-Just Drop My Body On The Steps Of The F.D.A' https://www.tumblr.com/yourartmatters-itswhatgotmehere/757305651356729344?source=share (I encourage you to research more about David!!) , Thisbe & Pyramus, The V & A, James I & George Villiers and MORE!!) https://www.tumblr.com/yourartmatters-itswhatgotmehere/757308307835895808?source=share (Learning about things referenced in Red, White & Royal Blue, thank you @ elipheleh)

THIS SONG IS SO FIRSTPRINCE!! thank you Nick & Taylor, i'm adding it to my RWRB playlist!!

♥. and now some RWRB links here:

Matthew talking about Alex's bisexuality ahead of the movie:

Alex, our ACD, our bisexual king post:

our FIRSTPRINCE post/mostly beautiful pictures/:

FIRSTPRINCE EDITS(post with edits/links♥):

coming out-important post/A's speech(both movie+book versions):

RWRB DELETED SCENES post:

RWRB BLOOPERS/BTS post:

THAT SCENE-Alex and Prince Henry Flirt Over Text:

KARAOKE SCENE:

Them reading RWRB:

!! https://nicostiel.tumblr.com/post/725473496174575616/red-white-and-royal-blue-2023-text-posts

for more bonus content post, nick's other queer roles posts, more taylor etc visit my tumblr account and use the hashtags in the search!♥

+ https://www.tumblr.com/yourartmatters-itswhatgotmehere/729333681897046016/the-delicate-art-of-the-grab-and-kiss?source=share

x x

[joelalorian]

Fall Into Me - Chapter Eight: We'll Dance in the Street like Nobody's Watching

dbf!Joel x f!reader

Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Story is inspired by the song Fall Into Me by Forest Blakk. Chapter titles will be lyrics from the song.

Word Count: 3.8k

Chapter Warnings: Explicit, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. Lots of feelings, unprotected p in v, flirting, dads being dads. Two idiots falling in love and finally fucking admitting it. Joel is his own warning. Age gap of about 9 years (Reader 24/25, Joel 33/34). No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname used only by her dad and Joel uses various terms of endearment (darlin', sweetheart, etc.).

This chapter includes the scene that sparked the entire story idea. I've been patiently waiting for it to see the light of day. hope you enjoy!

Thank you so much to everyone who reads this self-indulgent story and extra thanks to those who comment and/or reblog - you all make me feel like a rock star!

Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

Chapter Seven | Main Masterlist

“So, how was it?” Grilling you for the past twenty minutes, Emily was relentless in her pursuit to find out just how good Joel was in bed, after congratulating you on the new job, of course. “Come on! I need to know!”

“Alright, alright! I had no idea you were such a needy bitch. Is your hubby not dicking you down enough or what?” you laughed before regaling her with tales of Joel’s prowess.

“I fuckin’ knew he’d be big and know how to use it! He just gives off that BDE, ya know what I mean? Just how big are we talkin’, anyway?”

Rolling your eyes, you laughed again. “Well, I didn’t fucking measure it, but it’s a definite handful. Besides, you’ve never even met him, Em! How could you possibly get that vibe?”

“I’ve seen photos and heard stories, that’s more than enough to pick up on that sorta thing,” Emily replied with the confidence of someone who damn well knows what she’s talking about. “I need to know more. Gimme all the details!”

“Yeah, yeah. Speaking of BDE, I gotta finish getting ready. Joel said he had something special planned for tonight to celebrate me getting the teaching job.”

“I bet he does. You’re gonna get another deep dicking from that huge—”

“Bye Em!” you cut her off and hit end call before she could carry on anymore.

Tossing the phone on your bed, you finished putting a light layer of makeup on, putting in a little more effort to look good tonight. Ten minutes later, dressed in a pair of dark, fitted jeans and a dark blue, long-sleeve, vee neck shirt that showed just a touch of cleavage, you wandered out to the living room.

“Alright Dad, I’m off. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” Leaning over the back of his recliner, you press a kiss to his balding head.

“Have fun on your date and be careful, Spud. Call me if you need a ride home or anything,” he replied, patting your hand. You turned to leave, grabbing a light jacket from the hook by the door just in case, when your dad’s voice carried from the living room. “It’s funny, Joel told me he has a date tonight, too.”

Freezing for a moment, you squeak, “Oh, yeah?”

“Uh huh. Quite a coincidence me thinks.” He paused again, but you were at a loss for words and grateful that he couldn’t see your expression. “Enjoy your night, kiddo.”

Knowing a dismissal when you heard one, you take off through the door. Your mind raced on the short drive to Joel’s. He knows. Your dad so knows. You start to panic for a moment wondering if he’s upset before the realization hits that he didn’t seem remotely mad about it. More like he got a kick out of the idea and enjoyed teasing you. You and Joel had to fess up very soon, but that was a tomorrow problem. Tonight was meant to be all about you and Joel.

Walking through the front door, you expected to find Joel in the living room or kitchen, but the downstairs was empty. Lugging your overnight bag up the stairs, you thought maybe he’d be in his room or the bathroom still getting ready, but again, no sign of him. Where the hell was he?

Making your way down the stairs, you peeked out the window to make sure you didn’t imagine his truck in the driveway when you parked – it was there, right next to your car. He had to be around here somewhere. The sound of soft music hit your ears suddenly. Following the sound, you slipped out the back door and gasped.

A soft glow spread across the yard from lights strung from tree to tree, a plaid tablecloth covered the patio table on which sat a vase of brightly colored tulips, an open bottle of pinot noir, two stemless wine glasses, and two covered plates. Just beyond the patio, a hammock hung between two large live oaks with another set of string lights dangling above it. As your eyes took it all in, Joel stood off to the side watching you with a warm smile.

“Joel,” you whispered, afraid to disturb the dream-like quality of the moment, his name a drawn-out breath in the air when you finally turned to him. His dark eyes glinted from the string lights as he stepped forward out of the shadows, one hand stretched out towards you. There was no hesitation in reaching for him and you clung to each other for a few minutes before he stepped back to pull out a chair for you.

“Thank you,” you whispered, settling into the seat. When Joel took his place across the table from you, you added, “This is so lovely, Joel.”

A bashful smile graced his lips as he removed the covers from the plates and filled the wine glasses. Your gaze soaked in every little movement he made, in awe of the gorgeous man before you and all he’d done to make this evening special. Holding his glass up, he toasted to you. “Here’s to your new job and the start of a very rewarding career. Congrats darlin’.”

Clinking your glass against his lightly, you beamed at him. He looked so handsome, thick curls pushed back away from his face, tanned skin glowing in the soft lighting. “Thank you, Joel.” Already buzzing from the way he made you feel, you sipped lightly at the wine before digging into the meal before you.

Bursts of flavor hit your palette at the first bite, the chicken cooked to perfection and the sun-dried tomatoes adding just the right tang to the red pesto coating the rigatoni. A soft moan escaped before you caught it, cheeks heating up with the way Joel looked at you with hooded eyes.

“I reckon you like it?” he asked, a teasing lilt to his gravelly voice.

“This may be the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted, Joel. Did you make this?” You took another bite, savoring the flavors that exploded in your mouth.

“Mmhmm. It’s my mama’s recipe, she made it a lot when we were younger, and it’s always been my favorite. I’m glad you like it.” He watched you enjoy another forkful, obviously proud.

“I don’t just like it, Joel. This is fuckin’ delicious. I didn’t know you could cook like this!”

His cheeks turned pink as he cleared his throat. “I can’t, usually. I practiced a lot with this one.” That melted your heart further.

You ate your fill, making small conversation between bites, until your wine glass was empty, and your belly satisfied. Joel poured you another glass, which you sipped leisurely as he cleared the table and placed the dirty dishes in the dishwasher for later. He wouldn’t let you lift a finger.

“Dance with me?” he said upon his return outside, voice deep and gravelly as he plucked the glass from your hand and placed it on the table.

“I’d love to,” you replied softly, lips tilted upwards in a sweet smile. Holding his left hand out, Joel helped you to your feet and let you off the patio.

A new song began, volume a little louder now, and you stepped closer to him. A warm buzz spread through your veins when Joel pulled you against his broad chest, one arm wrapping around your waist and the other bent to hold your hand over his heart. You could feel the thump of his heartbeat beneath the green flannel he wore as he swayed you slowly around the grassy yard, careful to not stray too close to the pool.

Nothing ever felt as right as being there in Joel’s arms, dancing in the yard like the world beyond the fence didn’t exist. Your feelings for this man were overwhelming, growing deeper each and every day – hell, each and every second was more like it – and that four-letter word bubbled in your throat. You swallowed it down, settling your head against Joel’s shoulder, eyes closed and focused on the moment.

Joel’s chin tilted downward, nudging against the side of your face, his lips near your ear, and his breath sent delightful chills down your spine when he began to sing softly.

“Fall into me and I’ll catch you, darlin’. We’ll dance in the street like nobody’s watching. It’s just you and me and the song on repeat in my head, playing over and over…”

My god, how could you not fall in love with this incredible man?

The intimacy of it all brought tears to your eyes as your fingers threaded through the hair at the back of his head. Stomach alight with the flutter of too many butterflies, the urge to speak from your heart became too much, you could hold back no longer.

“I love you, Joel.”

You loved him.

What did he ever do to deserve something like that?

Heart clenching deep in his chest, Joel guided you to the hammock, music still carrying softly through the air. With amazing finesse, he settled you both on the hanging fabric, bodies snuggled together until you nearly became one.

He ached to say the words back to you, but they kept getting stuck in his throat. Instead, he settled for showing you how he felt, just like he did with dancing and singing in your ear – he could have written that song for how relatable it was to the feelings you brought out in him. Dark eyes stared into yours as his hands moved over your body, pulling you impossibly closer.

I love you, his lips said as they pressed heatedly against yours.

I love you, his tongue said as it licked softly into your mouth to tangle delicously with yours.

I love you, his hands said as they touched you with utter reverence.

I love you, his body said as he pressed it tightly against yours, trying in vain to crawl beneath your skin.

Joel kissed you with singular focus until you were both breathless and overwrought with need.

“Take me to bed, Joel,” you whispered when he finally tore his lips from yours. “I need to feel every bit of you.”

Your angelic voice music to his ears, he scrambled from the hammock, scooping you up in his muscled arms to carry you inside and up to his bedroom. His mind occupied by one thing and one thing only – making love to you until you knew every part of him and he knew every part of you – the string lights and last bit of wine were left forgotten in the yard.

Loving the way you clung to him, Joel swept through the house and up the stairs with an urgency he’d not felt before.

His lips moved to brush down your neck, nipping at the tender skin as he went. Once in his room, he closed the door even though you were the only two there. Joel kissed each new patch of skin bared as he removed your clothes until you were completely naked. Easing you back onto his unmade bed, a low growl rumbled from deep in his chest when your fingers slid along his scalp and tugged on his hair. Fucking lord did he love how you touched him.

“Fuck, I need to taste you, pretty girl.”

He’d never seen anyone or anything more beautiful in his life as your naked body writhed on his bed, eager and yearning for his touch, and Joel knelt to worship at the altar of you.

Starting at your delicate feet, Joel’s fingertips traced every inch of you until he reached the apex of your thighs. Leaning forward, he let the scruff of his facial hair tickle along the flesh of your inner thighs, pressing open-mouth kisses along the soft skin as he went. Grinning as you trembled, he met your wide gaze as he leant forward, tongue exploring your folds.

The first taste of you set his soul on fire. Sweet like honey yet more addicting and thrice as satisfying, Joel licked at your clit, tongue occasionally dipping down into you, slurping greedily at the very essence of you.

He couldn’t have thought of a more delicious dessert.

His movements elicited sensuous moans that shot straight to his cock, his jeans quickly becoming too tight and uncomfortable. Seeking a little relief, his hips began grinding against the mattress as he brought you closer and closer to the edge, fingers soon assisting his tongue in driving you mad. Just when he thought he might blow his load in his jeans, again, you came, crying his name out, the syllables drawing out in a beautiful, lyrical drawl. Working you through it, Joel drank down every bit of your release like a thirsty man in the desert.

“Fuck, darlin’. You taste fuckin’ delicious. I could live here, between your legs, for the rest of my life, surviving on just you.” Joel stood as he spoke, gazing down at your blissed out form on his bed as he tore off his clothes, one large hand palming his cock before he practically dove into bed with you.

“You’re too good at that, Joel Miller,” you said, the words falling lazily from your lips as you recovered from the singularly intense orgasm. Swooping down, Joel kissed you passionately, offering you a taste of yourself lingering on his tongue.

Letting his body continue to do the communicating for him, Joel shifted his hips, grinding gently against you while his mouth devoured yours. Groaning as your nails scratched down his back, he reached a hand down to guide his cock toward its home in your pussy. Dark eyes opened wide, Joel watched your face as he entered you, delighting in the scrunch of your nose and the way your eyes squeezed shut before popping open again at the sensation of him splitting you open.

With long, slow, oh so deep, strokes, Joel made love to you, telegraphing the depth of his feelings in the only way he knew how, until you were writhing in pleasure beneath him. Afterwards, he cleaned the mess between your thighs and held you close until you fell asleep with your head resting on his chest. Only then, did he finally whisper the words he longed to say all night. “I love you, too.”

Joel stayed awake for a while, listening to your gentle snores and the soft sighs you made in your sleep. He loved that you let your guard down with him, that he was the man who got to hold you while you slept. In the darkness of night, Joel made himself a promise that he would not fuck this up before falling into a deep sleep of his own.

His dreams were particularly vivid, the sensation of your mouth around his cock so strong he’d swear it was real. He’d never experienced your mouth around him like that before, though, so it couldn’t be real. Joel let his dream-self enjoy every moment, your lips around his shaft and tongue teasing the throbbing vein along the underside of his cock a divinity he’d never known before. At one point you took him so deep that a loud, guttural moan escaped his lips, hands clenching in your hair.

Eyes popping open, the moan carried on, rumbling from deep within Joel’s chest as he glanced down to find you feasting on his hardened length. It wasn’t a dream after all.

“Fuuuccckkk,” his voice, still rough with sleep, drew out the word as he watched you go down on him. Your mouth a form of heaven he suffered too long without, the cheeky, mischievous look in your eye making the pleasure more intense. You clearly enjoyed the act nearly as much as he did.

It didn’t take long before your wanton rhythm and sinful mouth had him coming down your throat, your name a prayer recited over and over in that gravelly voice. “Jesus fucking Christ, darlin’. Where’d you learn to suck cock like that, hmm? Your mouth is like God damn heaven.”

Joel’s chest heaved as you gulped down every drop of his spend, tongue darting out to lick the last bit from the little slit on his cockhead before sliding over your lips. You visibly swallowed, savoring the taste of him; his eyes glued to your mouth the whole time. His hand came up, caressing your face with the love he couldn’t yet voice shining brightly in his eyes, and his thumb traced along your plump bottom lip.

“My little gummy worm,” he murmured, delirious from coming so hard. “Felt so good wrapped around my fat cock.”

Crawling up his body, you settled your weight atop him and pressed your lips to his, letting him taste a hint of himself on your tongue as licked into his mouth, returning the favor from the night before. The kiss was languid and sloppy, perfect for a lazy morning waking up together.

“You tasted good, all salty and musky,” you said once you broke away, voice raspy from having his dick halfway down your throat.

“You can wake me up like that any time you’d like, darlin’.”

The two of you cuddled for a while, neither of you too eager to start the day knowing you didn’t have anything pressing to do. Those unspoken words bubbled in Joel’s chest the whole time, begging to come to the surface, to be spoken aloud and given credence. Still, he hesitated without quite knowing why. Finally rolling out of bed around 10, you jumped into the shower while Joel threw on some clothes and ran out to grab some breakfast.

He just pulled back into his driveway, a bag with a few bagel breakfast sandwiches in one hand – he got an extra in case you wanted pork roll instead of bacon – a coffee and orange juice clutched in the other, when JB’s truck pulled up in front of his house.

Settled on the couch after your refreshing shower, legs tucked under you while scrolling through your phone, you heard Joel’s truck pull up. Waiting for him to come in with breakfast for you both, you were caught off guard by the deep voices rumbling in the front yard. You sat up, peeking through the blinds to find your dad out front, hands on his hips as he spoke to Joel.

Oh shit.

You couldn’t discern their facial expressions from that angle and moved to the front door, quietly easing the heavy wood open to peek out and eavesdrop. They had to be talking about you, right? There was no hiding or pretending you weren’t here, especially with your car parked in the driveway right next to Joel’s. After your dad’s comments last night, you wondered if he planned this ambush then.

“I knew she’d be here,” you heard your dad say, but you couldn’t read his body language clearly. His hands were on his hips still, but there was a smile on his face. “You sweet on my baby girl, Joel?”

You couldn’t hear Joel’s response, his gravelly voice pitched too low for your ears to catch across the distance, but you could see him smile hesitantly even as his broad shoulders hunched slightly. Whatever it was caused your dad to chuckle and punch Joel playfully.

“I knew it!” your dad exclaimed, the sudden loudness startling you. “I knew you two would hit it off, I just wasn’t sure how long it’d take.”

You caught Joel’s response this time, his surprised voice pitching upwards. “You’re not upset?”

Walking toward the house without invitation, your dad paused. “Why the hell would I be upset? You’re a good man, Joel, and I know you’ll treat her well. And she’ll be good for you, too, I have no doubt. Now, you got enough in that there bag for breakfast for three?”

Your shoulders sagged with relief as you eased the door open. “I thought I heard voices! Hi Dad,” you greeted. “What are you doing here?”

“Hey Spud. I could ask you the same thing, but I knew I’d find you here.” Pulling you in for a hug, he ushered you inside. “I got tired of waiting for you two to come clean and thought I’d put you both on the spot.”

Eyebrows shooting up, you glanced at Joel before meeting your dad’s gaze again. “How did you know?”

Giving you a shrug, he said, “You two weren’t exactly subtle and a father always knows.” Nudging your shoulder, JB turned to Joel. “You’ll find that out soon enough, my friend. I can’t wait for the trouble that Sarah will give you.”

The three of you sat at the small dining table, digging into the breakfast sandwiches, your dad insisting you tell him how long you and Joel had been seeing each other and how it all started. Relieved to finally have the truth out there, you told him the story and JB chuckled.

“That about tracks. That’s right around when I started to notice something different between the two of you. And it sure explains why you hardly gave Annica the time of day on your date.” JB gave Joel grief about that failed date for weeks knowing that there was something – or someone – else drawing the man’s attention. JB had the feeling back then that it was you, his baby girl, his grown-up Spud, who captured the single father’s attention.

“You sure you’re okay with this, Dad? I mean…” your words fell off, not really knowing what to say. You’d be heartbroken if your dad wasn’t okay with a relationship between you and Joel, especially now that you verbally admitted to being in love with him.

“Are you kidding? I’m happy as a pig in shit that the two people I care about most like each other.” Your dad was all smiles, beady eyes sparkling with mischief. “In fact, I was planning on setting the two of you up if you didn’t figure things out for yourselves first. Tommy was in on the plan, too, and was the one who suggested we give it a little time. Little shit never told me it became official, though.”

Sitting back in your seat, you giggled with relief. All that time spent fretting over what your dad might think, feeling guilty for dating his best friend and hiding it from him for so long. It was all for naught. You should have known he’d love the idea of you two together.

“So, when’s the wedding?” JB asked, a shit-eating grin spread across his lips as you and Joel froze, eyes darting to each other in wide-eyed panic. Your dad practically guffawed at his own humor while you two were practically having a panic attack. “I’m just kidding – there’s no rush. Just make sure you treat her right, Joel.”

Recovering from the initial panic – not that he didn’t want to marry you, eventually, just not quite this soon – Joel laughed a little nervously. “Of course, JB. I’ll always treat her right. I, uh… I love her.” His gaze shifted to you, heart showing firmly in those dark chocolate orbs. “I love you, darlin'.”

tbc

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[darqx]

Some MORE BP/HH asks

Yes there are! The Battle Monks deal with those ones.

Yes it is! Or at least will be ╭( ･ㅂ･)و ̑̑ I've been doing a lot of thumbnailing and once i finish this chapter i can possibly start actually making some pages lol.

His name is Zeke and he's a big (~6'8") demon softy who likes cooking :D And bacon 🥓

Is this chicken predominately supposed to be a pet or not cos BP!Zeke could very well just cook it.

Of course you can (please give credit for BP and say its an OC tho)! I'm honored that you want to :D However until i get BP out and about i probably can't interact with any art/info of BP OCs because this could be a problem if they turn out to be similar to any of my planned events/characters.

I kinda had no ideas for a doodle (sacrilege i know lol) but then remembered i had one doodle that I'm p sure never got put here.

I used this pic to reply to a friend once and it became one of our chat emotes lol.

He has a like...chateau/manor/whatever in the region that he rules over -nods- He doesn't live on Earth he just visits.

Yes

If i were to put it succinctly lol:

The main gang are/become friends, Caleb p much dislikes/is indifferent to everyone but particularly hates Izm and vice versa, the demons generally try to avoid Rire if they realise who he is, and Rire finds at least two people rather interesting.

Anon I'm also very confused about why you think bots(??) are a credible source of information |D; But to answer your question no he's not a demon.

I hate to say this but the demons already have marks indicative of themselves so, those for them XD

.D would maybe have something like the BP logo, Wei Ren a book, and Marcus could have a heart of embers or something 🤔

The demons I decided could hybridize with humans is actually somewhat random and based entirely on gut feeling lol. Half-breeds take more after the demon parent (as the genetics is stronger) but would have a lot less power than a full-fledged demon (and might be infertile, I haven't really thought about that aspect yet). Yes an abortion is possible.

All of my demon species have specific phenotypes. Eg Caleb's species has several different eye colours they can have, Caleb's happens to be green. If/when I make enough demon species I did have a tentative plan to make a field guide about them \o/

HH only ever existed as random one shots and stuff on my DA so if you were looking for like a webcomic you would be sorely disappointed lol.

To be fair to myself it DID actually have somewhat of a storyline but i never actually got around to it |D

LMAO XDD Ok, ok but listen if this happened it would only ever happen ONCE because omg have you ever had hair caught in your mouth? It is, the worst XD

Nope it is an all boys boarding school

It is a generally normal high school so normal high school subjects would apply haha, you know, things like English, Science, Maths, Art, Sport, Languages and various sub catergories etc.

[peachesofteal]

First Sight

Chapter 1 of 2. Part five of the Sassy series. Reblogs, comments, likes, interactions, etc are cherished by me. 🖤

Simon Riley/female reader 5.9k words - AO3

Warnings-tags: 18+ Minors DNI, pregnant reader, PTSD, thigh riding, Simon talks you through it, praise kink, explicit sex, jealousy, possessive Simon, angst, tenderness, mentions of blood and violence, nightmares, childbirth, medical procedures, Simon is bad at feelings; Simon is learning how to have his feelings. Simon has felt this before.

“And you are?” 

“I’m her… I’m the baby’s father. We had her information updated two weeks ago, at the office. I’m listed as her emergency contact.” The doctor looks skeptical but taps a few keys on her laptop before she glances back to him. 

“Last name?” 

“Riley.”

“Sorry, Mr. Riley. She’s been my patient for nearly seven months, and I’ve never seen or heard of you.” Bloody hell. His jaw clenches together so hard he thinks his teeth might shatter. 

“I’ve been overseas.” The lights and sounds are scratching under his skin, making him tense, priming him for a fight. “I came in on the ambulance with her... I have to be with her. She can’t be alone when she wakes up. She’ll be scared. She won’t… she has P-.” 

“I am aware of her history.” The doctor snipes and his fist tightens, tendons curling until his hand becomes a weapon, not thing the of comfort it was a mere ten minutes ago. 

“Look. I’m on her list. So you can let me back there or-“ She holds her hand up to silence him and the vein in his forehead pulses. 

“I’ve already paged a tech to bring you to her room, Mr. Riley. It’s just going to be a few minutes.” She gives him a reproachful look before she says something about coming by to check on you shortly, and he lets out a long breath.

You’re somewhere else. Your eyes are trained on the e-reader in your hand, but they’re not moving across the screen. You’re not blinking. Your breathing is even, and deep, but your fingers are fisted in the blanket, and your gaze is burning a hole through the bed, through the floor, possibly right down to the core of the earth.

It makes Simon nervous.

Not because he is afraid of your PTSD.

He is afraid of you slipping away. Sometimes, you leave and come back a different girl, the guarded one, the one that hasn’t tried to forgive him, the one who is reliving the pain he caused her every second. The one who takes your place when you disappear right in front of him, who’s memories burn too bright.

He knows he may never be fully absolved in your mind, but you still show him mercy. You still let him in, still let him have you, except in the moments when you fall through his fingers like tiny grains of sand. Those moments may have been earned, but it doesn’t make their sting any less painful, and he struggles in throes of them.

“Sass?” He calls, cautiously, reaching for where your hand is clenched. His fingers graze the sheets, the softness of the fabric much like your skin. They must be expensive, he figures, the cotton luxurious against the rough scrape of his palm. He thinks he likes the color, the soft green that matches the chair and the trim in the baby’s room. “Glacial green,” you correct him every time he calls it light green, or blue green, or pea soup. It’s a natural tone, earthy, and you seem to gravitate towards it, always telling him you think the color is ‘soothing’ or ‘calming’. You have a few shirts and sweaters in the same palette too, and an old, faded sweatshirt that you used to wear when you were with the 141, worn out lettering stitched across the chest. It was too big for you then, always drooping below the flare of your hips, the hem stretched out and curled. Now, it pulls snugly across your middle while you lay in bed beside him, where the e-reader sits in your dainty fingers. He doesn’t know how you’ve done it, keep your fingers so velvet and smooth, even after your years in the desert. “Sass.” He tries again, louder, squeezing with the lightest bit of pressure until you blink.

“I’m here.”

“I know.” You turn your face up towards him with a sleepy smile, and he reaches for you without hesitation. “Tired?” He murmurs into your hair, your nose just slightly smashed into his neck.

“Mmm. Yeah, sleep sounds nice.” He finds the light easily, pulling the room into darkness with a flick of the chain, and returns to press his face to yours before succumbing to the pull of sleep.

“I mean, did you get a good look at her?”

“Shit. I’d bury my face in that ass. EOD is air force, right? Think she’s got a landing strip?”

“Dunno but I’d be coming in for a landing all the time if she was on my squad.” The table of privates laugh to each other, and Simon’s fingers curl around the bottom of the beer bottle in front of him. He briefly considers, for a moment, if Price would dismiss him if he broke it over one of their heads and then used the shards to slit the rest of their throats. Bleed ‘em out right there on the table. 

He shifts on the stool. Johnny gives him a skeptical look. One of them, says something else. Sounds a little like ‘tight’ and ‘pussy’ strung together. Another one snickers. 

He’s on his feet behind them before anyone realizes. The low drone of rage pressurizes inside his skull. 

“Want to share what’s so funny, private?” The table falls silent immediately, all of them staring up at him, dumbfounded.

“N-nothing’s funny, sir.”

“Ya sure about that?” Johnny chimes in before Simon can say anything. 

“The bomb tech, we were just… appreciating her. Saying how nice it must be nice, having something like that to look at all the time.” Simon can feel the heat of Johnny’s gaze on the nape of his neck.

“The bomb tech outranks you, private. You will address her as Sergeant.”

“Y- yes, sir.”

When he gets back to the base and little house the 141 is crammed into, you’re already asleep in your room. Sprawled across the shitty thin mattress, your shirt rucked up around your stomach, little boyshorts riding the curve of your hips. The scar from Belize is still shiny across your ribs, peachy and puckered. The sight of you safe and sleeping soothes the raw buzzing of anger in the back of his head. 

His girl. His. 

He’s already got his hands all over you by the time he gets his boots off, and you shift a little when he presses his face into the top of your ass. 

“Simon?” you mumble. “Y’okay?” Simon, Simon, Simon. It’s always Simon with you now. You’re constantly stripping him bare with it, and he doesn’t even know your name.

He teases a hand across your skin, over the scar and up under the peak of your breast to your nipple, where he rolls the already hardening bud between his fingers. You shudder with a moan, shoulders twisting to turn yourself on your back, but he stops you. His teeth find the swell of your ass, and he sinks them deep. You squeak. 

“Can you hold still?” He says, your body answering for you with a shiver. The bite woke you sharply, and you watch him out of the corner of your eye. 

He pulls the underwear down your legs until they disappear, and then sinks his fingers into your cheeks. The glisten of your cunt shimmers, already wet, already waiting for him. 

“Scoot back, sweet girl. Up on your knees.” You do as he says, shimmying down until you’re pressing against his thigh, clit ghosting against the fabric of his jeans, just barely. Your hips are shifting, slowly, and he knows you’re trying to get just a little bit more friction. He leans over you, gloved hand in your hair. “Now be good for me and rub your desperate little clit on my leg until you come.” You shake your head no and he rears back, pulling off his shirt and gloves, leaving the mask and his jeans the only thing on his body. He slaps you across your ass, just hard enough to watch the skin turn under his palm, and you jolt with a moan, cunt pushing back against his leg. “Do you want me to give you my cock, Sass?” you nod frantically. “Then ride my thigh until you’re coming on it.” The curve of a smile, a smirk, pushes at your cheek, and you start to move your hips, slowly at first, and then fevered, chasing your high while he watches. “That’s my girl, just like that.” 

You start to jerk erratically, your face screwing up into the little pout and he knows you’re close. “You going to come Sass?” You mewl pathetically, mouth making desperate sounds and he watches you rub yourself all over him. “Sweet girl. That’s it, just a little more. There you go.” Your gasps reach a fever pitch, and he groans. “Ride it out, good girl. Come all over me.” His jeans are smeared with you, but he praises you, telling you how good you were, how much he likes that you made a mess on him. Once you come down from it, he strips and presses himself along your back, rucking the balaclava up to his nose to pull the skin beneath your ear between his teeth. He wants to mark you, hard. Leave an impression of himself on your body, brand you down to your bones. Tomorrow, when those fuckwit privates line up for brief, he wants them to know. 

He sinks into you as deep as he can, little noises coming from your mouth as he splits you open on his cock, your cunt so tight it feels like it’s choking him.

“Si-Simon.” It’s his name, again. You’re flaying him alive with it. When you say it, it feels like he’s not wearing the mask, it feels like he is Simon, and not Ghost. He’s becoming addicted to it, consumed by it. It makes his head foggy, makes him do things that he’s never done, like approach a table of infantry and scare them out of running their mouths, or mark you like you belong to him. You cloud his judgement. You make him want things, things he doesn’t deserve, things he could never have. You make him soft, and desperate, and when you turn and look over your shoulder as he slams himself to the hilt, your gaze burns into him like you’re seeing him. Like you know. 

“Please, don’t.” Your voice breaks as you beg, clutching the baby to your chest. Your face is bruised, nose probably broken, and tears stream down your cheeks. You’re trembling, eyes desperate as you plead. “Simon. Simon, get up. Please, get up.” He tries, but he can’t. He is beaten. His body is broken, bones shattered, organs bleeding out slowly inside him. The cool metal kiss of a barrel presses to your temple and you scream at him, for him, he’s not sure anymore. “SIMON GET UP.” His body weighs a thousand pounds, and cannot lift himself to help you, to save either of you. The gun cocks, and you close your eyes right before the finger on the trigger moves, the bang echoing across the room and your-

He jerks awake, immediately seeking the warmth of your body next to him in bed. When he feels you, his chest loosens, and you shift onto your side, cracking an eye open.

“Hey.” Your voice is thick with sleep, but still sweet as honey, and he takes your hand in his. Your pulse flutters under his palm. Strong. Stable.

“Hey.”

“Nightmare?” He nods.

“Go back to sleep.” You roll your eyes, flicking on the light that sits at your bedside table.

“I’ve been sleeping forever, I am practically sleeping beauty at this point.” You stroke through his hair, nails scratching against his scalp. “Wanna talk about it?” you whisper, and he shakes his head. Yeah, Sass. Want to hear all about how I keep dreaming of your bloody corpse? Or about how I keep seeing you and our son being murdered right in front of me, over and over and I’m powerless to stop it? That’ll do real well for your stress level. Instead, he smooths his hand over the swell of your belly, where the baby sleeps, warm and protected, safe from everything out here that might hurt him. “You promised.” You needle, and the slight push is all that’s needed to relent.

“I keep… dreaming of you dying. Or being killed, in front of me. You and the baby.” You sit up a little and he immediately pulls the second pillow down behind the small of your back for support.

“Dying how?” He swallows.

“Someone’s holdin’ a gun to your head and you’re begging me to save you, but I can’t. I’m lying on the floor, bleeding out.”

“Sounds pretty scary.” There are a lot of things, that he hasn’t found the courage to say out loud to you yet. Promises and pledges, thoughts about being grateful and feelings of adoration. He wants to tell you how much he appreciates that you listen to him, that you validate him, but the words never come out, so he presses a kiss to your forehead before sliding down so his head is resting on the side of your belly.

The memory of the dream skips across the forefront of his mind, and he can still see you lying in a pool of blood, little boy lifeless in your arms. The blood, that looks just like the blood that covered the walls and the floor of his family’s house. His mom’s blood. Tommy and Beth’s. Joseph’s. The blood, that looks just the same as it did when he found you unconscious a few weeks ago, smells the same as when it poured out of the wound in your stomach in Belize. The blood, the blood, the-

“Simon.” He doesn’t even realize he’s breathing harshly until he hears you saying his name. “Hey, Si. Simon, it’s alright.” You stroke up and down his arm, tracing a faded pattern in his sleeve. “You’re here, in my house. In my bed. With me. There is no danger.”  

“With you.”

“With me. And the baby. We’re here, together. We’re safe.” He turns his head, pressing his ear to your skin. Swoosh swoosh swoosh. The heartbeat soothes the frayed edges of his nerves, and the two of you sit just like that for a while, content. “Shit.” You groan, the sound a low whisper, and anxiously rub your belly. He waits for what he knows is coming, the pure, sweet melody that you hum when you try to settle the baby. The once guilty pleasure, when he would stand just out of sight so he could hear it, is now a full indulgence, as he’s able to lay beside you and rub circles into your skin while you hum softly.

It doesn’t come.

Instead, you gasp in surprise.

“Sass? What is it?”

“I… I think I peed myself.”  

“Hey!” No. How did you find him so fast? “Simon, wait.” When you say his name, it jams into his brain, scrambling the signal, and forcing his steps to falter. It’s just enough for you to catch him. “Look. I know you’re mad. I know I fucked up.” You’re breathing heavily, probably from sprinting down the row of tents that he had ducked past, and you push your hands out in front of you like you’re trying to cage him in. “But I made sure Gaz was alright, and I still had a job to do! Those charges were my priority, I wouldn’t have split up otherwise. Simon, I understand-“ He cuts you off swiftly.

“You can address me by my call sign, Sergeant.” You startle. He looks away, looks anywhere else but your face, where your gaze waits to peel him open. 

“What?”

“You will address me as Ghost, or Lieutenant.” 

You’re guarded now, expression wary, but there’s still something hopeful in your eyes, something that’s calling him home to you.

He has to get away. Now. 

You take an uneasy step forward, hand extended like you’re going to touch him. 

“Simon.” You whisper. 

He steps back. 

Your face falls. 

He’s tactical about it. The bag, the extra pillow, your shoes. A phone charger, the collection of snacks you’ve been hoarding recently, like a dragon hoards their gold. He remembers everything.

Almost everything.

His phone rings when he’s buckling his seatbelt.

“So, should I like, call an uber or are you going to help me get in the truck?” Bloody hell. He nearly beats his head against the steering wheel before he’s unbuckling and running towards the door. You’re standing in the living room, hands on your hips, unimpressed, with a hint of a smile on your lips.

“I’m sorry, I-“ you wave him off, reaching for his arm.

“Come on, you gotta boost me up.”

His eyes dart back and forth from the road, to where you sit, stone-faced in the passenger seat. You’ve been quiet since he pulled out of the driveway, the silence an uneasy thing that rests heavily between the two of you, and he reaches for your hand that lays limp on the seat.

“How’s the pain?”

“Not too bad.” You’re chewing on your lip, still lost in thought for a moment before you speak again. “Simon. If something happens…” his blood freezes.

“Nothing is going to happen.”

“We’ve never discussed it though. What to do if something goes wrong.”

“What do you mean?” Something has already gone wrong. Everything has gone wrong. It can’t get worse. It can’t. 

“Well, if there are complications and we have to choose…” He almost pulls the truck over, his heart seizing in his chest like he’s been electrocuted. A million scenarios slam through his brain at record speed, flipping open in front of him like a picture book. Everything he’s imagined before, but worse. This time, it’s not mercs, or a stray bullet, or shadowed government assassins that take you away from him, but your own body, or a doctor, or-

No. He would not be without you if there was a choice. Not again. 

“There is no choice, Sass.” His voice is gruff, and you palm your belly with a gulp. “We… I, would choose you. A million times. A million and one. There is no other choice… for me.”

“Okay.” You whisper. A tear rolls down your cheek before it’s hastily wiped away, and you turn to him with wide eyes.

“Okay.” He echoes, taking your hand in his.

You almost died. You almost died, and he wasn’t there. Johnny almost died, and you almost died, and he can’t stop thinking about the two of you wandering around trying to find the 141, trying to escape without a weapon, or comms, or anything. He can’t stop thinking about how vulnerable you were, how close you came to being dead. Being gone. Like everyone else. Like his family. 

The feeling fills his body with ice. It paralyzes him before panic seizes his nervous system, pouring fear into every synapse flitting through his brain. 

His family. You could have been lost, like his family.

He barges through the door of the office, eyes wild behind the mask.

“I need her gone.” Price looks up at him, perplexed.

“Who?”

“Sass. Transfer her. Put her on leave. Anything.”

“What are you on about?”

“I can’t… I can’t have her here. She’s fuckin’ with my head.” His chest feels tight, like there’s a thousand pounds sitting on his ribcage. It’s terror that is pumping through his veins right now, unbridled, and raw, threatening to wreck him where he stands.

“Ghost, calm down.”

“I can’t!” It’s practically a shout. He’s losing it. The empty echo of the dead radio replays over and over in his head. The image of Johnny, bleeding out, slumped against your small frame, the panic on your face, the two of you covered in blood loops repeatedly every time he closes his eyes. It melts into the memories of finding his family dead and then twists together, over and over until he thinks he might be hallucinating. 

“Tell me what’s going on.” Price is standing now, voice calm, gesturing to the other chair. He’s not a loose cannon, not anymore, but it’s been a long time since he’s raised his voice at the captain. Guilt swells inside him.

“I’m fuckin’ her.” He paces in front of Price’s desk. “And it’s… She’s messing me up. Can’t think clearly.”

“You’re what now?”

“I’ve never… I’ve never asked you for anything-”

“Simon-“

“and I know this is unfair. She’s great at her job, Price I know that. But I have the seniority. And I need ya to do this for me.”

“I can’t just dismiss her. I brought her here, asked her myself.” He grits his teeth.

“Price…  she….” His lungs are screaming now, his breath coming in short gasps but there’s no oxygen in this room. “It’s not… I can’t. It’s not safe.” 

“Simon, sit down.” It’s an order, and he complies, slumping into the chair and cradling his head in his hands. “Now. Start from the beginning.”

“I know you’re disappointed.”

“You said I would be able to try.” You doctor is sitting on a chair at your bedside, across from Simon. She’s wearing a very serious expression, and you’re wearing your ‘don’t fuck with me face’, the one he’s seen time and time again, before and during ops. You open your mouth to argue with her again, but a contraction steals your breath, your nails sinking into his skin like tiny razorblades.

“Just breathe.” He soothes, stroking over the crown of your head until you fall back onto your pillow, tense lines of your forehead relaxing as your eyes close.

“If the placenta separates any further from the wall of the uterus during the rest of your labor, it could be life threatening for both you and the baby.” She doesn’t handle you with kid gloves, and you lift a lid to glare at her. He swallows the chuckle in his throat. Surefire way to catch a fist in the jaw. 

“Fine.”  The word is hissed through clenched teeth, and she pats your hand reassuringly.

“They’ll be some paperwork to sign, and then we’ll get you prepped. Nothing to eat or drink in the last six hours, right?”

“I’ve been in labor for the last seven and a half hours, so no.” you deadpan, before looking longingly over to your bag of snacks. The doctor glances at him with a gentle smile.

“Mr. Riley, you’ll need to change, we can… hopefully, provide you with scrubs that fit. We’ll also give you a surgical mask, and a cap. Sound good?” He nods in thanks as she leaves, and he turns back to you, pulling the mask down to his chin to rest his cheek against your palm. You raise an eyebrow at him.

“You’re not gonna pass out in there, right?”

“Me?”

“Well, they are going to pull my guts out.” What?  You giggle, just a little, and heave a sigh. “But seriously. Don’t faint. I don’t think they have gurneys big enough for you.”

“I’ve seen plenty of guts, Sass.”

“Yeah…but not mine.”

Price announces his presence with a knock. “Heli’s almost here.” Simon says nothing. His elbows dig into his knees, fingers rolling the elastic band between his thumb and forefinger, strands of your hair wrapping around and around the tie until they become tight, little strings that make indentations. “Ghost.” He knows what Price wants. What he wants to hear. He still says nothing. “I did this for you against my better judgement.” Price says, like he doesn’t already know. When Simon looks at him, he sees the weight of their decision. The shame. The guilt. And he feels it, too. “You should say goodbye, Simon.” 

His voice is rough, on the verge of a scream, or something worse when he finally speaks. 

“I can’t.”

“So, when you get in the room, you’ll notice she’s lying on a table, and there’s a drape that’s a visual barrier between her chest and the rest of her body.” The nurse, the super friendly one that you said you liked, is talking him through what’s happening while he walks down the hallway next to her. Her shoes squeak a little bit against the linoleum, and he focuses on the pattern of the sound. Step squeak, step squeak, step- “Now, she can’t feel anything, but C-sections can be nerve-wracking, and she got a little anxious when we got into the OR.” He nods. Of course you’re nervous. You’re strapped to a table where they’re about to cut a hole in your abdomen. “She’s asked for you a few times, I promised I’d deliver.” She gives him a wink and pushes open a door. “Here he is!” She calls cheerily, and you turn to look, eyes finding his within a second, like always.

“Simon.” You wiggle your fingers towards him, and he wastes no time, sitting in the chair that the nurse pointed to and bringing your hand to the mask, right where his lips are.

“Hi sweet girl. You alright?” You nod.

“I think I’m a little high.”

“She had just a bit of midazolam, for the nerves.” Your doctor says from the other side of the drape.

“That’s alright.” He smoothes some hair from your face and tries to remember to breathe. Everything about this room sets him on the edge, and there’s a live wire running through his bones, all the way down to where his hand holds yours. There are too many people, too many lights, machines, and his skin is crawling, the desire to snatch you from the table and disappear down the hall repeating in the back of his mind, again and again. He can’t stop thinking about what could go wrong, terrible scenarios that leave you dead or the baby dead, or both. They push and pull at the logical side of his brain, fighting to get through, desperate to derail him, insistent and-

You smile up at him, all sweet, a little daft from the drugs, and everything feels quiet again. The tension between his shoulder blades lets out like air from a balloon, fast and easy.

“You ready?” He thumbs at a tear escaping from the corner of your eye. You’re looking at him, looking beneath the mask, kicking and tearing past the pieces of Ghost until you strike true, until you reach Simon. You always do.

He pushes his forehead against yours, and breathes you in, the stench of sterile hospital and all.

“Yeah, Sass. I’m ready.”

He’s pulling the balaclava back over his face when you bust through the door and ram right into him. He recoils, the reaction second nature, and his eyes find yours in the little bathroom mirror immediately. You step away, the room stretching too big all the sudden, the distance between his body and yours too far, and his brain stumbles over the realization. Something stutters in his chest, his breath catching when he looks at you, watching as you flail before you look away. 

“Shit! Fuck. Sorry.” You glance at the wall, then the floor, then turn to run before he figures out how to make his mouth work. 

“You’re alright, Sass. I’m finished.” You’re standing half in the hall, half in the bathroom, bleeding, and something twists in his gut. Blood and injury are not uncommon in the 141, but he’s surprised at how unsettled he feels when he sees the trickle of red on your shoulder. 

“Get that cleaned up.” It comes out rough, like an order, and your throat bobs with a swallow.

“Okay a little bit of pressure and then you’re going to feel a lot of relief.” The doctor says and you nod, fingers pressed into his palm.

“Simon.” Your voice wavers.

“I’m right here. I got you.” He keeps his eyes trained on yours, willing himself to get lost in the hue of your irises, tuning out everything else in the room until-

A baby cries.

“Congratulations mom and dad!” Someone calls and the room spins. Mom and dad. 

“Can I see him?” your fingers are still entrenched in his, the words watery and light.

“Breath sounds are good.” A voice says, and then there’s a squalling baby next to him. A baby. Your baby. His. 

“Oh. Oh.” You’re in shock, he thinks. He’s not sure, because he might be too, and he blinks rapidly as you place a few fingers on the baby’s cheek. “Hi, Theo.” You coo and cry, smiling through the tears that dot your face. The nurse says something to you, and then she places the baby on your chest, where you cradle him with your other arm, pulling Simon’s hand up towards Theo’s back for support, holding it against his skin. You glance up at him for a second, teary happiness morphing into concern, and then back before your finger lifts from Theo’s cheek to his, swiping along his cheekbone. He presses your palm to his face with his free hand, over the mask, and closes his eyes for a second.

When you pull away, your fingers shimmer under the white lights of the operating room, and the tips of them shine with something wet.

His tears.

“I don’t see cabbage. What about romaine?” 

“No. It has to be cabbage. Or kale! But I really prefer cabbage, and so does your kid, you know. Romaine is totally different.” You babble, and he stares at the heads of green leafed things underneath the misters, eyes scanning for the label that says cabbage. 

“I don’t see any cabbage, Sass.” A woman who’s inspecting a shiny red pepper a few feet away from him looks over, curiously. 

“It’s a staple food, Si. It never sells out; it has to be there.” 

“It’s not.” 

“Ask someone.” Irritation is bleeding into your voice now, and the idea of approaching a store employee makes his skin itch. Maybe he can just buy the romaine and ask for forgiveness, or go to a different supermarket. It’s not quite midnight yet, something else could be open. 

The woman inspecting the peppers has sidled closer to him, close enough that he can see her face turned upwards towards his, eyes studying the balaclava before she clears her throat. 

“Excuse me?” He turns, eyes narrowed. 

“Who is that?” your voice rings through the speaker. “Is that a woman? Ask her where the cabbage is!” He pulls the phone away from his ear and blinks down at her. 

“The cabbage is up here.” She says politely, pointing to the top row of light green, rounded vegetables. Nearly in front of his face. 

“Thanks.” He says roughly, but she smiles at him all the same, while you call his name over and over on the phone. “I got it.” 

“Yes! Oh my god thank you.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Bloody lucky I love you.” 

The line is silent. His heart lurches, thundering into a frantic beat that thrums through his entire body. His limbs feel numb, and he doesn’t say anything else, just holds his breath. He can hear you breathing, just barely, through the phone, but it sounds like you’re trying to hold your breath, too. Like you’re listening for him. 

“Simon-“

“I still gotta get the potatoes. See you in a bit.” The line goes dead.

“Okay, sit here.” The nurse instructs and he forces his legs to move, makes his knees bend so he can lower himself in the chair. He can’t look away from what she’s holding in her arms, the infant, the baby that is his and yours. His kid. “Skin to skin is very important for newborns. It helps regulate their heartbeat and breathing and can help maintain their temperature.” She continues, motioning for him to relax against the backrest.

“Skin to skin?”

“Yes. You’ll need to take off your shirt.” He shakes his head. He can’t do this. You should be doing this. You’re his mother. He’s… he’s not you. Theo won’t want him, he’ll want you. He- “Mr. Riley? You don’t have to, but while we wait for her to get back, it’s a good opportunity for it.”

“What do I do?” The idea of holding Theo to his scarred chest makes him feel sick.

“Once you take off your shirt, I’ll put Theo in your arms and cover you both with a blanket.”

“I don’t think…”

“Don’t worry. I’ll show you how to hold him if that’s what you’re worried about.” Theo cries out, a sharp, shrill sound that draws her attention downwards before she looks back up at him with an expectant expression. Skin to skin is very important for newborns. He knows you would want him to do this. He knows that you would understand too, if it was too much, if he felt too exposed. But it’s important. Theo needs this. He needs… his dad. 

He pulls the scrub top over his head, careful to keep the mask in place, and leans back slowly against the chair.

“You’re going to support his head just like this-“ she moves him into the crook of his elbow, positioning his little legs and arms so that he’s laying flush against his chest. “and his body will just rest right here in this space… and there you go.” Simon doesn’t breathe. He doesn’t move, he can hardly think. He doesn’t even feel her place a blanket over his body, curling it beneath where he cradles the baby. All he can see is Theo in his arms, so tiny, his eyes scrunched shut and small hand curled into a fist.

The lights in the room go dim, and he looks up, realizing that the nurse is by the door. “I’m going to give you some privacy. They should be finishing up with mom soon but there’s a button right there, next to the bed. The red one. Press it if you need anything and one of us will be here right away. Okay?” She gives him another encouraging smile and he nods.

“Okay.” When the door clicks shut, he finally lets out the shakiest breath of his life and reaches up to pull the surgical mask from his face. Theo’s eyes aren’t open, but his chest rises and falls, soothing some of the fear that has a grip on his heart. He gently touches Theo’s hand, and his tiny fingers curl around Simon’s giant one. He gets lost, staring down at the small boy. Looking at every single feature, his ears, his nose, the bow of his lips. He tries to memorize it all, the way the tuft of his hair sits, the creases of his skin around his elbows and knees, the soft pant of his breath. It fills him with emotion, so much he’s afraid it might overwhelm him, bury him beneath its weight. He knows this feeling, has felt it grow inside him since the very first day he laid eyes on you. Has watched it fight through a forest of dark and snarled roots, cutting and biting away at the things that have died and festered inside him. He knows it better than he knows himself now, knows the truth, cannot deny this knowledge that he would lay down and die for you, for Theo. He understands the pure terror that has blazed within him since that day in Belize, and he knows that he would spend the rest of his life, waiting in agony with bated breath, just to kiss you once more, or hold his child in his arms.

It terrifies him, but he knows its name.  

He knows it’s love.

Simon leans down and brushes his lips across his son’s forehead, gentle and light, before murmuring to him as softly as he can manage.

“Hey, Theo. I’m your dad."

The next fic in this series is here.

[sluttyten]

You In My Arms

Chapter 10: I'm Yours

full masterlist || haechan masterlist || YIMA chapter index

summary: During those first few months of your relationship, you and Haechan explore each other and adventure into new areas with each other. Not without some bumps along the way.

length:  15,168 words

tags: friends to lovers, general perversion, smut, public sex, period sex, somnophilia, light consensual non consent, voyeurism, exhibitionism, etc.

previous chapter || next chapter  (Coming Soon)

Falling in love isn’t just about having sex. Obviously. But for you and Haechan, it is a big part. 

You have a healthy, active sex life. 

Over those first couple months of your relationship, it’s hard to keep your hands off each other. 

Whether in private or in public, it doesn’t matter for either of you. At first, you definitely don’t care who sees. 

Like when you go over to Haechan and YangYang’s apartment, and after you’ve made a delicious dinner, Haechan fucks you against the sink in the kitchen, his hand over your mouth to keep your moans from echoing out of the room to where YangYang sits on the sofa. His back is to you, but all he’d really have to do is just turn his head and he’d be able to see you getting railed. Not that you care, and not that you think YangYang would really care if he caught you. Haechan has told you about all the times that he’s pretty sure YangYang let him listen to him have sex, that he even left his door cracked open for Haechan to watch.

There’s a time when you sleep over at Haechan’s, and in the morning he neglects to warn you that a visitor has arrived. YangYang isn’t there, so you feel comfortable enough to walk out of Haechan’s bedroom to where he stands in the kitchen, to draw him into a kiss, to let him lift you up to sit on the countertop, and you urge his fingers between your thighs. 

Of course, that’s when Renjun emerges from the bathroom and finds Haechan two fingers deep in your pussy. 

“Embarrassed?” Haechan teases, kissing you on the cheek, his kiss only serving to deepen the heat of your blush. “It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before, right?”

Renjun laughs at that. “Should I return the favor, Haechan? Watch you with her since I know you watched us?” He gestures between you and himself. 

Haechan’s hand that rests on your thigh tightens. He leans over you a bit possessively, staring at Renjun until you lift a hand to Haechan’s cheek.

With your fingertips pressing against his cheek, you guide his attention back to you, his lips down to yours. 

Before you meet Haechan’s kiss, you groan, “Go away, Renjun.”

He laughs again. “You know, I was invited here by your boyfriend to go eat breakfast.”

Haechan’s lips twitch into a smile. “Plans changed. You can’t have any of what I’m going to eat.”

Then it is your turn to laugh as Haechan ducks down to kiss and nip at your throat. You grasp his shoulders, ignoring the way Renjun grumbles, “Gross,” before he turns and walks out of the apartment. 

Haechan and you have sneaky sex at work too. 

One horribly stormy day, the two of you are coming back from lunch when the power goes out in the building, stalling the elevator you’re in like a perfect sexy cliche. You take full advantage of it, and you sink to your knees for him. Haechan cums on your tongue and your chin, and then he spends the rest of the time that you’re trapped in there to kiss the taste of himself from you. 

There’s a late evening when you’re both still at work even though on a normal day you’d have left hours ago. You’re in the break room when Haechan sneaks up behind you and pins you against the countertop. “I’ve been thinking about doing this all day,” he groans, “This dress looks too good on you, baby.” You stand still, sinking into the feeling of his hands on your body, lifting the back of your dress up, and neither of you  make any attempt to hide what you’re doing. 

There are still a few people left in the office even at this late hour, but they’re all bowed over their work at their desks, not paying any attention to you and Haechan in the break room with the door nearly shut. But anyone could walk in at any moment, and that possibility sparks a thrill inside both of you. 

“Let them know,” Haechan says directly into your ear. “Let them all know that you’re a perfect angel for me, letting me do whatever I want with you, whenever I want.” 

You didn’t really consider Haechan to be a jealous man, but it certainly drives him a little wild when Yuta gets a little too flirtatious with you one day. Haechan knows about that brief little history you have with your coworker — you’ve both been perfectly open and honest about your sexual histories — which just invites enough jealousy in him that Haechan stays late with you that day so he can fuck you at your desk. He presses between your shoulder blades until your chest is flat against the desk, and with each of his deep, brutal thrusts your hips slam against the edge of your desk, hard enough to bruise. You love it, though; you love the way that he tries so hard to make sure that you don’t forget about him (which there is absolutely no risk of), and he tugs down the neckline of your dress, biting down on the soft part of your shoulder to leave a mark, as if laying his claim on you. 

During spring, right in that pocket of time when the days are finally warming up, when the air buzzes with insects and the heady scent of blooming flowers, freshly trimmed grass, and new green things sprouting, you and Haechan start to explore public exhibitionism a little more. Lunch dates in the park on warm days mean cute little sundresses that are easily flipped up for Haechan to finger you right there in the middle of a wide grassy stretch with passersby none the wiser. 

Warmer days mean that you break out some strappy tops, which are easier for you to slip off your shoulder, freeing a nipple or even the whole breast for Haechan to stare at hungrily while you sit across from him at an ice cream shop. 

You know people have to spot the two of you as you play these risky games. But if they do, no one makes it obvious.

Until one day.

You know for certain that an older man — mid-forties and handsome, his hair just beginning to get a bit silver at the temples, wearing a suit that is perfectly tailored to him — catches you during brunch one morning. 

It’s a small, crowded cafe. You’re in the back corner, but there are still a decent amount of tables around you, enough that it’s quite risky when you lean forward with your elbows on the table, revealing to Haechan the way that your dress has “accidentally slipped” and both of your tits peek out over the top of your dress. 

“Goddamn it,” Haechan groans. “You’re gonna do this to me now?” He glances around. “We haven’t even gotten our food yet.” 

“And?” You do your best to maintain a face of perfect innocence even as your nipples grow hard beneath Haechan’s attention and the cool air of the cafe. “That just means we have more time for fun.”

You slide one foot out of your sandal, and you lift it into Haechan’s lap. He reaches down, curling his hand around your ankle as your toes explore along the length of his thigh, dipping against the front of his pants until you find the rise of his cock. Of course he’s already half-hard from the sight of your tits. And as you caress him with your toes and the arch of your foot beneath the table, as he keeps looking at your tits, Haechan only grows harder. 

You pull your dress back up over your chest when the waitress returns, sliding your brunch onto the table, replacing your half-drained mimosas. But you leave your foot in Haechan’s lap. There’s a table cloth draped over the table anyway, so it’s not like she notices anything amiss. But after she walks away, after one of the few tables around you in this back corner finishes their brunch and leaves as well, you tug your dress down enough that your tits are at risk of spilling out. You keep your foot moving over Haechan’s erection straining against the front of his pants. 

Someone nearby loudly clears their throat, but you don’t look away from your plate. Haechan however tenses up a little, his hand squeezing your ankle. But he doesn’t push you away, doesn’t tell you to stop. So you keep going, eating and enjoying your brunch while you also enjoy getting your boyfriend off. 

Haechan ordered more food than you, so he takes longer to eat. You’re completely finished when he’s only about halfway done. And since you are somewhat bored, you pull your top back up and instead put all of your attention into what you’re doing in his lap instead. Haechan, to his credit, only twitches a little when your toes suddenly find the zipper of his pants, when you pinch the zipper between your toes and drag it down. The button fastening his pants is a little harder to navigate, but luckily he helps you out with that, reaching down and quickly flicking it open so you can get your toes there to stroke him over his underwear now. 

“What is it that you want here?” Haechan asks. He glances around, his eyes lingering a little extra long on a table to your left. 

“Take it out,” you tell him. 

Haechan’s attention lowers to his plate, his lips curving upwards as he asks, “And then what?”

“Then that’s up for you to decide.” You draw your foot out of his lap. “But if you finish your brunch and finish yourself, I may have a special gift for you later.”

Usually Haechan is in charge of special gifts for you. You don’t usually give him things, rather allowing him to dote on you. Over the weeks that have suddenly stretched into months since this relationship began, you’ve fallen a lot more comfortably into the idea of Haechan being in charge, Haechan being dominant. Not that he’s extremely dominating or anything like that, but he likes taking care of you, likes being in charge and seeing you submit to him — though sometimes that means fucking you until you’re crying and letting him do pretty much anything he wants until you spit out a safeword;  sometimes it means something entirely non-sexual like just letting him baby you and take care of you after a long day with cuddles and a nice warm shower; and then in either a sexual or non-sexual situation he gives you gifts, just little things that range from a snack to a sex toy.

But overall, you’re not the one with special surprises for him. So this catches his attention. 

You can tell the moment when the hand Haechan drops into his lap frees his cock. You can tell by the ease of his shoulders, the quick flicker in his eyes when he glances around at the surrounding tables. He’s tucked up beneath the table cloth, but you’re sure he’s wondering if they can still tell what he’s doing. This is more exposure than Haechan is used to. Typically it’s you exposing yourself while Haechan watches or touches. The roles are reversed this morning, and you can’t even see him touching himself really. But you can see it in his face, you can see the movement in his arm, feel the shuffle of his feet beneath the table as they bump against yours in an effort to maybe hide his actions even more beneath the table, and you can hear the way his breathing changes as he strokes his cock with one hand while attempting to maintain a semblance of normalcy by continuing to eat his brunch with the other hand. 

You watch Haechan’s expression, noting the way that he’s quickly edging up to his breaking point. He drops his fork to his plate, lifting his hand instead into a fist in front of his mouth. His eyes snag on yours, telling you without words that he’s about to cum. 

Your elbow knocks into your own plate, dislodging your utensils. The knife falls to the floor, and before Haechan has time to react, you drop to the floor. Your fingertips bump against the knife, pushing it deeper under the table, and you sink beneath the table cloth on your hands and knees. And come face to face with exactly what you’d hoped to see. 

Haechan’s hand looks beautiful as he pumps his pink-tipped erection. 

To his credit, Haechan only barely flinches when you lean in, lifting a hand to take over from his, and you put your mouth right over his tip to suck. Just a couple pumps of your hand along his length, and Haechan cums, spilling on your tongue. 

You’re a good girl, as he tells you all the time, so you swallow it all down.  

You even tuck his cock away again before grabbing the knife from the floor and climbing out from under the table into your seat. 

And that’s when you notice the suited older man watching you. Haechan spots him too. You both know you’re caught, and Haechan immediately blushes with embarrassment. 

It’s when the man doesn’t look away that the blush fades from Haechan’s cheeks, and instead anger begins to paint his expression. By that point you’re sitting fully back in your seat, your back to the man, and the pair of you are waiting for the waitress to come back after you’ve given her Haechan’s card to pay. But it’s clear in the way that Haechan keeps looking over at the man, with your boyfriend’s expression growing darker and darker, that the man is still looking. 

Haechan is not an overly jealous man – he has admitted to you on more than one occasion that he still sometimes thinks about you with Renjun, even rewatches that video in his phone when he can’t be with you, and it’s not jealousy he feels in those moments but intense arousal – but sometimes he can’t help displaying a bit of jealousy and possessiveness. And that morning is one of those moments. 

The man gets up to leave before the waitress returns with Haechan’s credit card. You watch Haechan’s expression as he looks the man up and down as he approaches your table on his way out, and then to your surprise the man pauses right beside you. 

You’re tense. Haechan looks ready to spring. 

The man slides some cash onto the table right in front of you. And then he touches your shoulder, saying in a greasy tone, “For the show, darling.”

Haechan shoves angrily back from the table, but his face is impassive as he reaches over and calmly removes the man’s hand from your shoulder. “Don’t touch her.”

The man snorts derisively. 

The waitress obliviously slides Haechan’s card back onto the table and bustles off to one of her other tables. You grab the card, grab the cash the man slipped you, and you stand up. 

“For the record,” you tell the man, “I’m not a whore, but I will take your fucking money.”

You pocket Haechan’s card and the man’s cash, step clear around the man, and take Haechan’s hand. 

You leave the cafe quickly, hoping to get clear away from the man. This is of course a risk of doing anything sexual in public — getting caught by a pervert. It was one thing when the pervert you hoped to be caught by was Haechan, but a perfect stranger who feels entitled to come up and speak to you? To touch you? To pay you as if you’re a common whore?

Haechan fumes beside you the whole walk back to where you parked your car. And as soon as you’re alone behind the cover of your car’s tinted windows, he reaches over the center console and cups your face in both of his hands, dragging you into a ferociously possessive kiss. 

You lay off the exhibitionism for a short time after that. You take the time to truly savor having each other in the privacy of your bedroom or his. You kinda chill it on the crazy sexual hormones then for a bit as you slip out of the honeymoon phase of your relationship where everything still feels brand new and exciting and you’re both constantly horny for each other. Instead, you focus a little more on work to aim for a promotion that Taeil has been hinting someone will be receiving. And when that time arrives, and the promised promotion is given to you over everyone else, you celebrate with Haechan. 

You take him out to dinner somewhere nice where the two of you gorge yourselves with delicious, rich food and sweet wine. For dessert, you feast on each other at home in your apartment, savoring each last bit of each other until you collapse in a tangled heap of sweaty limbs in your bedsheets. 

You don’t leave bed the next morning, just pick up where you left off the night before. You forget everything that morning except for the taste of Haechan’s skin, the feel of him inside you, the sound of his breath and his moans and your name from his tongue. 

Both of you are still deeply caught up in each other, though in a more gentle and intimate fashion as he holds you against his chest beneath the covers, rolling his hips forward while he buries his face in your hair. 

To anyone who might happen upon the scene, it could maybe almost look like you’re just spooning while oversleeping late into the morning. 

Or at least that’s what you hope it looks like when your family surprises you by dropping in for a somewhat unannounced visit. 

Truthfully, you’d just forgotten that you had plans with them that day, that they were in the city to visit with you. You’d thought any plans you had would be much later in the day, but also you had certainly lost track of time all tangled up with Haechan. 

So when your bedroom door suddenly opens and you look up into the faces of your parents and one sibling, you pray to every god that anyone has ever believed in that your family members don’t realize that Haechan is currently balls-deep inside you. 

It’s your dad that reacts first. 

He laughs and then backs out of the room, pushing your sibling behind him, pulling your mom along too. The door closes. 

“Fucking shit. Oh my god. Haechan….” You make a valiant attempt at suffocating yourself in your pillow. 

Haechan laughs a little, although the sound is halfway between amusement and awkwardness. He pulls out of you, rolling over to the edge of your bed. He starts getting dressed, but you don't move until Haechan slides back in bed with you, his hand stroking along your spine. 

“Let’s go face your family.” He whispers, placing a kiss right behind your ear. “Maybe they’ll be so proud of your promotion they’ll forget what they just walked in on.”

Doubtful.

“I can’t go out there,” you groan into the pillow. 

Haechan makes a sympathetic noise. “Should I at least go introduce myself?”

You twist around, catching his hands in yours. “No! You can’t go out there either!”

Now he fully laughs at you, dipping down to kiss you briefly. “You’d rather we stay in here and they think that we’re still having sex even though they’re sitting in your living room, baby? Come on, get up.”

You get dressed quickly, and you leave the bedroom first. Haechan lingers behind. 

Your family is arrayed on the furniture in the living room, and you curse yourself mentally for ever giving them a copy of the key to your apartment. Your sibling is still laughing, and your parents are silently communicating with each other through a series of facial expressions and direct eye contact. 

Only once you sit down across from them do any of them actually look at you. And a second later when your dad’s eyes slip behind you toward the direction of your bedroom door, you know that Haechan has emerged. 

“This is Haechan,” you announce, “My boyfriend.”

That causes a few raised eyebrows. You’ve mentioned Haechan several times over the years, and within the last couple of months you’ve definitely mentioned that you’re dating someone. You’d just not ever told them that Haechan and your boyfriend were one and the same. 

Haechan comes to sit right beside you, immediately reaching for your hand to hold one in both of his. You try to tuck away a rising smile as you notice the way his fingers are trembling nervously. 

“Hello,” he nods, greeting your family. “Nice to meet you all.”

You squeeze his hand and he squeezes back, glancing over at you. Now you really smile at him, unable to hold it back.  Yeah, this is kinda awkward having your family meet him right after they walked in on you together, but with Haechan by your side, you know it’ll be alright. 

And it certainly is. 

Haechan charms them spectacularly. It probably helps that he spends the entire day praising you, boasting to them about how you just received a promotion at the Moon Corporation where you work together. Apparently his constant adoration of you makes the fact that they walked in on you and him this morning okay. How can your parents disapprove when Haechan puts on his best face with them? 

He makes recommendations for a place for all of you to grab dinner later that evening, and he compliments both of your parents and cracks jokes with your sibling, and every chance he gets, he holds your hand or puts his arm around you, looking hopelessly devoted and in love with you. 

He completely wins your family over. 

Later that night after dinner, Haechan goes back to his own apartment. Tonight you’ll be sleeping separately for the first time in weeks, and the thought of that is slightly upsetting, but your family comes back to your apartment with you. 

There’s some maintenance thing that your dad agrees to help you and your roommate with, and she’s better with tools than you are. She’s back at the apartment by that point, so she assists your dad with the project. Your sibling watches, and you and your mom sit in the living room to talk. 

“He’s nice.” Your mom has been quiet for a while when she says that, and after a split second pause, she clarifies, “Haechan. He’s a good boy.”

“He is,” you agree. Nevermind all of his qualities that you’re quite intimate with that would definitely make him fall into a Not Good Boy category if your mom knew about them. 

She smiles. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this with anyone before. Smitten. You’ve always kind of had a look in your eye when you’ve talked about him. Even years ago, when you went away for school, you would FaceTime us and tell us stories about your friends, and you would get this smile on your face when you mentioned him.” She laughs lightly and gestures at your face, “It’s the same smile you’ve had all day when you look at him. Back then I knew it was only a matter of time, but I never thought it would take this long for your little crush to become something more.”

“Trust me,” you sigh, “Neither did I. I was resigned to just being his friend, but then he finally made a move.”

Your mom nods. “How long has it been?”

“A few months.” You can’t believe that the time has passed by so quickly. The first kiss still feels fresh in your mind, the first date like it’s just happened although the temperature has long since turned from the bitter cold it had been that night. 

“You look happy,” she comments, and you notice a shimmer of emotion in her eyes as she says, “I’m so happy for you. He seems really good for you, and even if your dad teases you about him, just know that he really likes him too.”

That blooms a warm feeling in your chest. Not that you need your family’s approval to validate your relationship with Haechan, but it certainly still feels really good to know that they’re happy that you’re happy with him. 

“Just, please,” your mom laughs, “Don’t think I’m rushing you when I say that I would love some cute grandbabies sooner rather than later.”

“Mom!” 

With the pair of you taking a step back from the riskiness of public sex, you decide to instead explore some other interests of yours and his in the safety and privacy of your apartments. 

Haechan wants to try out a bit of consensual non-consent, which here means him surprising you while you’re asleep, doing what he wants to you — light touches to turn you on without waking you up, his fingers buried inside you while he feeds you just the tip of his cock. 

You were intrigued by the idea of being a toy for him, so you agreed on the condition that you wanted to know afterwards what he’d done. 

Haechan filmed it so you could see how he took his time exploring your body, leaving hickeys scattered across your belly. He played with your tits for a while before he started to finger you, and that was when he finally hit the point where he seemingly couldn’t take it any longer, and he just had to feel your lips around his cock. 

You’d woken as soon as he came down your throat, startled awake, coughing and gagging on the taste of it. 

You’d returned the favor a few days later, curious about what it was like to play with someone sleeping. 

Haechan had stayed out late the night before, letting himself into your apartment at half past three. He’d passed out on your bed, and stayed in exactly that position from that moment until even after you woke around eight o’clock. 

He was unaware of the world around him, and when you knelt on the floor beside his side of your bed, he’d not even twitched as you pulled away the covers to free his dick to your access. You kissed his thighs and hips, stroked your fingers along his inner thighs. 

And then you’d given him your mouth. Kisses along his cock from balls to tip. You’d used your hand to touch him too while you moved your mouth to his chest to tease his nipples. Haechan’s cock swelled in your hand, and you couldn’t help but feel powerful to have him reacting to you like this even while he was asleep. 

Is this how he felt when he did this to you?

You blew him, pausing when he would move or when he would make noise. You didn’t want him to wake up yet, you wanted to savor this opportunity to do what you pleased with him. Such as when you got him flat on his back, you kneeling between his legs, your tongue tasting the salty precum at his slit, and you’d slipped a wet finger down to just glide over his asshole. 

Haechan had moaned, loud enough that you thought he’d woken. But a moment later he’d settled again, and once you were satisfied with how hard he was, you dug a condom out from beneath your bed, and you climbed up to straddle his cock. You put the condom on him before you sunk down on Haechan’s cock, and you were glad you’d thought of the condom. 

The moment that Haechan registered the weight and warmth and tightness of your pussy swallowing his cock, he woke up. His hands grasped at your hips, he thrust up into you, impaling you on his cock. He made it clear that your moment of being in charge had passed. 

Quite literally, Haechan flipped things around. 

Your shoulders hit the mattress, and he fucked you as if he hadn’t been asleep just moments before. Haechan fucked you while he scolded you for being a slut, for having fun with him while he slept, degrading you which only excited you more. 

In the end, it turns out that you both kinda like that sort of sleepy sex. 

You explore angry, hateful sex, too. 

Your first big argument comes in late April at Jeno’s birthday party. You and Haechan turn heads with the ferocity of your argument, but fifteen minutes later, you’re fucking Haechan in the bathroom, riding him on the toilet until he picks you up, spins you around, and fucks you against the bathroom wall. He’s rough in exactly the way you wanted him to be when you angrily dragged him in here, when you attacked him with biting kisses. 

He leaves bruises at your hips, yanking at your hair, he even closes a hand around your throat, applying pressure just perfectly to make your body thrill with excitement, your orgasm overtaking you. You like it a little rough and angry, the way that he bites and pulls and grabs in the moment, followed by tender kisses and apologies, a warm embrace and a conversation about how to resolve whatever your argument has been about. 

You explore the properly dirty type of sex, too. 

On the most brutal day of your period, you’re absolutely miserable. Cramps and a headache, emotional and horny and hungry. All the worst of your symptoms it seems are rolled into this one day. 

But Haechan is the best. 

When you’re laid up at his apartment in his bed, he gets up to grab snacks to satisfy your hunger. He gets a heating pad to help your cramps, a cold compress for your headache. There’s not much he can do to help ease the annoying mood swings you’re dealing with, but the horniness….

“I don’t mind,” Haechan tells you when you whine about how what you’re craving isn’t the snack he just brought you but rather an orgasm. “I can help you with that, babe.”

You move the cold compress away from where you had it covering your eyes. “Don’t be gross, Donghyuck.”

He makes a face at the sound of his full name. “It’s not gross,” he argues. “I’m not gonna eat you out, but I don’t see why I can’t help you cum if you think it’ll make you feel better. We have a variety of options.” He holds up his hand, ticking the options off as he lists them. “You can just dry hump me, ride my thigh. I could just use my fingers. I could get one of your toys. I could just fuck you; I don’t mind getting a little messy.” 

You just stare at him for a moment, dealing with an internal conflict of giving in to your base desires and letting Haechan get you off, or you could save yourself the embarrassment of Haechan getting disgusted the moment that your pants are off. 

“Please?” Haechan asks, “You know I love you. I just want to make you feel good.”

“And this has absolutely nothing to do with how horny you were complaining you were yesterday before I told you I’d started my period?” 

Haechan’s grin grows. “I didn’t say I was offering for only your benefit, angel.”

“Go grab a towel at least.” You roll your eyes a little, but inside your heart is racing with excitement. In the past, the guys you’ve been with have all been utterly disgusted by your period, bummed out that they wouldn’t be having sex with you for a week because period sex would be too gross. You’ve never had a guy be as attentive to you during your period as Haechan has been over these months you’ve been together, and certainly none of them have ever been as interested in having period sex as he is. But you shouldn’t be too surprised. He’s a pervert, enjoying these things others often find off-putting. 

When Haechan returns with a towel, you rearrange so you’re lying on top of the towel. 

“What would you like?” Haechan asks, kneeling there patiently. “Which of the options?”

You roll your eyes at him again. “Just come kiss me, then I’ll decide.”

Haechan lets you take control. He sinks in against your side as you curl an arm behind his head, drawing him in deeper for your kiss. He drapes an arm over your belly while you lift a leg to curl it over his hip. The two of you tangle yourselves together, sinking into the kiss and into each others’ bodies. You play with Haechan’s hair as you kiss him, languid kisses tasting sweet and syrupy, building the heat between you. You can feel him growing hard against you, you can feel your heartbeat throbbing between your legs as your arousal grows. And when you’ve finally reached the point where you can’t just lie still anymore, you start rocking your hips. 

With your leg slung over Haechan’s side, his thigh is bent forward between your legs, and when you rock your hips, you’re rocking right against his strong thigh. 

You sigh into the kiss, and Haechan smiles. 

“Does it feel good?” He kisses the corner of your mouth, and when you nod, he says, “Keep going.”

And you do. Your body moves on autopilot, like you’re starved and insatiable, just taking what you need, what your body desperately craves. You hump Haechan’s thigh as he sponges kisses along your jaw, as he murmurs praises and encouragements. “That’s a good girl,” he breathes against your ear, and, “Just like that, angel.”

Haechan lets you take what you need, and when the sweet friction from humping his thigh carries you over the edge with a cry, he drops his hands to your hip and keeps you moving until you’re whining from sensitivity, but you’re still not finished. 

“More,” you beg, twisting your fingers in the front of his shirt. There are tears burning from the corners of your eyes as you keep grinding against Haechan’s thigh, but it’s not enough. You still need more. 

“I can give you more.” Haechan rolls you over flat onto your back, and he pulls away from you which is the exact opposite of what you were asking for. He reaches down and pulls his shirt over his head, and then he reaches for the waistband of the sweatpants you’re wearing, and when you lift your hips, he drags them down your legs. The tank top you’re wearing is next; Haechan draws it over your head, tossing it aside in the same moment that he kisses you again. His hands rise to your bare tits, drawing a new whine of sensitivity from you. 

“Careful,” you moan. “They’re sore.”

“Sorry, baby,” Haechan apologizes, lowering his head to place a kiss over each nipple. And then a little kitten-lick to one, his lips and tongue warm and soft against your sensitive nipples, his hand gentle and warm on the other breast. 

Your tits are so sensitive it doesn’t take long for your heart to be thundering, your body pulsing with hot need, your chest arching against Haechan’s lips. 

All it takes is a desperate whine and your hand lightly pressing against the top of his head for Haechan to leave your tits and start mouthing his way down over your ribs and your belly. And then he reaches for your panties to remove them. 

“Wait,” you exhale, grappling for his wrist. 

Haechan freezes, face hovering above your belly, his fingers tucked into the elastic of your panties ready to pull them down. He looks up at you. 

“You don’t have to do this,” you reassure him. You don’t want him to feel like he has to have sex with you just because you’re horny right now. You’re gonna be a mess down there. 

Haechan just smiles. “You’re not making me do anything I don’t want to do. This isn’t gross, which I know you’re worried about. It’s hot. I promise.”

You let your fingers go loose around his wrist, but Haechan waits until you nod, until you murmur, “Keep going,” for him to move again. He pulls your panties down, and you wish you could say that it was super weird and uncomfortable to have your boyfriend’s hand between your thighs removing your hygiene product. It should feel awkward as Haechan does that, but looking down at his face as he looks up at you while smoothly doing just that, you’re just lost in the moment. 

Haechan climbs off the bed for a moment, walking over to the en-suite bathroom. You don’t even want to think about the fact that he’s going in there to dispose of your used sanitary product, because if you think about that for even a second you’ll be too embarrassed. So you think about the sound of Haechan rummaging around in the bathroom for a moment, and when he comes back, he’s brought a condom with him. 

“For a little more ease of cleanup,” he explains. “I don’t want to have to clean period blood off my dick. No offense.�� He’s teasing, but you groan and cover your face with your hands. Haechan laughs, reaching for your wrists to pry your hands away. “I’m only joking, babe. Do you still want to keep going?”

Of course you do. You’re a bit embarrassed, but more than that, you’re still incredibly horny. 

“Yes, I want to keep going.” 

You eagerly pull Haechan back between your legs, barely waiting for him to stop and roll the condom down his length. But then he’s there, and he’s sinking into you, and you forget everything else. You forget your headache, your cramps, your hunger. You forget every mood other than just this — the arousal, the love, the endless need to just have Haechan. 

You can’t even say that it’s weird or all that different to be having sex while on your period. Haechan doesn’t make it weird, so it’s not weird. And even if there is some slight discomfort for a moment, it goes away, quickly overcome because of Haechan’s hard-earned knowledge of what you like. Sure, it’s a little messy, and you’re glad you put the towel down, but it’s not the massacre you’d been imagining. It’s as wonderful as you could’ve hoped for. 

“See, no problem,” Haechan had told you afterward. 

You continue exploring kinks and fetishes, trying things out, falling deeper in love with Haechan, in awe of this pervert who loves you and you love in return. 

You never have to question if you love him. It’s just something innate, something you know as well as if it were just always a part of you, just built into your DNA. And you know he loves you too. Haechan doesn’t miss any opportunity to tell you so, not since the first time you said it to each other. You don’t question it. 

As spring begins to bridge into summer in May, there are questions. 

Your lease on your apartment is about up. Haechan’s is up at the end of June. So the question of moving in together properly comes up. And with that comes more talking, discussing, theorizing and dreaming and just lots and lots of future-talk. Talks about wants and desires. 

One day during May, you’re shopping together, looking for new clothes to wear on the trip you’ve planned to take with your friends in July. The shopping center you’re in is busy, full of other couples, of young families. The shops all have vibrant, summery displays and bold signage announcing sales.

You pass by a nice menswear shop, their window display showcasing a stunning tuxedo and a row of groomsmen in dapper suits.  

“I want to get married,” Haechan says casually as you pass the shop together. “I’ve always thought that I can’t wait to be a husband and a father someday. I’ve never given too much thought to the actual details, honestly, like the wedding or any of that. But being a husband, having a family, being a dad…” He smiles brightly, then says, “I want to raise a kid who knows that I’ll always be there for them, love and support them unconditionally. What about you?”

You’ve talked about kids with Haechan before. In vague terms. Like when you would be out together and see a baby or little kid, commenting on the kid being adorable, laughing at their behavior. When a coworker had a baby and she brought it into the office to visit, you’d both taken turns holding the baby and talked about it later. 

But you’ve never really talked about wanting kids. More specifically, you’ve never really talked about wanting to have kids together. 

You certainly never told him about your mom’s comment from just after they first met him, the comment about wanting cute grandbabies from you and him. It’s a comment she’s reiterated a few more times to you since then.

Haechan is looking at you, waiting for you to say something. 

“I think most girls dream of their wedding, a spouse, a family. I used to look up wedding dresses online when I was still far too small to even know what kind of dress I could fit into someday. I would picture my celebrity crushes waiting for me at the end of the aisle, flower petals cascading from the sky.” You laugh, and Haechan smiles right along with you. “I used to think up lists of baby names and imagine what it would be like to hold a little life in my arms that I’d created.”

You wonder if Haechan notices all the past tense in the way you’re speaking. The hesitance when you speak of children. 

Babies used to be something you were once so certain of. When you were young, before your eyes had been entirely opened to the world, it wasn’t something you ever thought twice about. Of course you would someday have babies. Why wouldn’t you?

But growing up meant seeing things from different perspectives, having realities laid out before you. Some people couldn’t have babies, some people chose not to have them. Sometimes terrible things happen. Sometimes pregnancy can feel alienating. You’d heard of childbirth as a blessing and a curse from friends, coworkers, acquaintances over the years, and as time passed, as you moved through your life and reached the point in time in which having a child would be appropriate, you still weren’t sure what you wanted. 

Did you hope to become a mom? Did you want to carry a child if you could? Having a child in your life, especially with the right person beside you was an obvious yes, but sometimes you weren’t entirely sure if carrying a child was the right option for you; maybe you would give birth someday, maybe you would adopt, or maybe it just wasn’t in the cards for you.

Right then, with Haechan still looking at you, you only know that you want him. 

Always. 

Everything else can wait. 

“I don’t mean any of this right now, by the way,” Haechan clarifies a few moments later. “Just… putting it out there.”

And you felt the usual sunshine-warm glow in your chest, thinking that this conversation was a good sign. These future talks you’d been having were a good sign. 

The thought of getting married to Haechan makes you giddy. Is he thinking of marrying you too? Is he making plans, and that’s why he’d mentioned it?

You wrap yourself in that warm feeling and let it carry you through the next few days. 

Work is busy throughout the month of May. So busy that you don’t get to see much of Haechan inside or outside of work. You have to travel abroad for research purposes, and the distance makes your heart ache. You hate being apart from Haechan, hate that you’re stuck in another country with only Johnny as a companion for two weeks in the middle of the month.

Long distance isn’t really anything you’ve had to try before, but you try to make it work. You call Haechan, he calls you; you exchange messages as often as you can. But there’s a time difference, which means that he’s often asleep while you’re awake, or you’re bogged down with work when he’s free. 

“I miss you,” you sigh over the phone late one night once you’re tucked back in your hotel room for the night. 

It’s eleven o’clock at night in London where you are, but it’s early back in Seoul, and you know your call probably woke Haechan up. He just mumbles something sleepily into the phone.

“I’m back at the end of the week.” You fight back a yawn. “I’m thinking of taking the week of your birthday off, honestly, because I’m sick of seeing Johnny’s face.”

That at least draws a little laugh from Haechan. “I’m already taking that week off,” he murmurs, “Take it off with me.” 

“Should I?” 

Haechan hums a small sound of agreement.

“If I do take it off, what should we do? Should we take a trip together? Get out of the city for the week?” You cradle the phone against your cheek, trying your best to not look at the time displayed on the clock sitting on the bedside table. You have to be awake in a few hours for a breakfast business meeting, but you want to have a moment with Haechan. 

Haechan is quiet for a few seconds too long, and you wonder if he’s fallen back asleep. 

“Hyuck?” You keep your voice soft, just in case. 

“Uh, I’m not sure about any plans yet.” He clears his throat. “I don’t…. I don’t know. Listen, I’ve gotta go. I just realized the time and remembered that I’m supposed to head into the office early today.”

Abruptly, he ends the call. 

Weird. 

You try not to dwell on it too much as you settle in to sleep. You try not to let the memory of it bother you in the morning, or throughout the rest of the day. But it’s difficult to brush off the weirdness of Haechan’s behavior ending that phone call when his behavior over the last few days of your business trip is weird too. Long gaps between responses to your messages, excuses to not answer your phone calls. 

And finally, at the end of the week, you and Johnny fly back to Seoul. 

Haechan picks you up from the airport, sitting there waiting in a pick-up zone. He waves at Johnny cheerily enough as your coworker heads off for his own pick-up. He kisses you like he’s never missed anyone more, and he holds your hand the entire drive back to your apartment, listening to you chatter about the two weeks you were gone in Dubai. 

“Oh, and Taeil approved my days off!” As he pulls in to park, the words fall out of you excitedly, and you squeeze his hand. “So whatever you want to do for your birthday, babe, let’s do it!”

Haechan’s fingers wiggle against yours. He looks around, checking his mirrors as if to make sure that he’s within the lines. “That’s good, baby,” is all he says. His eyes dart towards yours and then away again, and he withdraws his hand from yours to turn the car off. 

Odd. 

You continue to try not to let it bother you. 

You try to ignore it, to just pretend like Haechan isn’t acting distant over the next few days. You tell yourself that it’s just the stress of work because in this interim week between your trip and his birthday week, Haechan has several important meetings and three separate project deadlines. Obviously, that is where the majority of his focus is all week, and that’s why when you ask him to come look at a new apartment availability with you, he tells you that he can’t. 

You look forward to Thursday. His heavy workload — the last big meeting and project presentation of his falls on Thursday, so he should feel that relief and hopefully get over this strange distance that has grown between you this week. 

After Thursday, it’s just Friday, which should be smooth sailing right into the weekend, and then, luckily, it will be Haechan’s birthday week, the exact day landing on Tuesday. You’re ready to spend the week with him, to give him a birthday to remember. 

Thursday evening as you finish up in the office, you make up your mind to go over to Haechan’s tonight. 

You’re going to pick up some food on your way. You’re going to shower and steal some of his comfiest clothes (although you do have a decent amount of your own clothes stored at his apartment) and eat together while you watch a drama. You’re going to start this weekend a little early with relaxation tonight, and you’ll take it easy tomorrow. 

He’s already home by the time you’re leaving the office (a call with the team in Dubai meant hanging around the office a little bit later than you’d have really liked), and when you arrive at Haechan and YangYang’s apartment, he’s in his bedroom, playing games online. 

Haechan offers up his cheek for you to kiss, hums an acknowledgement when you mention that you brought dinner but you want to shower first, and then you notice the way his eyes keep darting away from the game he’s playing to follow you around his bedroom as you strip on your way to the bathroom that’s not even connected to his bedroom. 

And several minutes later when you return, he’s done playing the game, but he’s still sitting in the desk chair, on his phone. 

Again, you notice his eyes following you as you move around. You notice the way his lips part when you drop the towel you’d had wrapped around you, the way he can’t look away as you stride around fully naked towards his closet. He watches you sort through his T-shirts and find one you like. Haechan makes a small throat-clearing noise when you bury your nose in the fabric, breathing in the smell of him before you pull the shirt on over your head. 

He sucks in a breath through his teeth when you bend over, flashing him your ass beneath the shirt. You’re maybe doing this bit on purpose, stepping slowly into your panties, sliding them up your legs, all while bent over and showing off your ass and pussy to him. 

But when you straighten up and look back at him, Haechan looks away, back down to his phone. 

His phone seems to hold a lot of his attention, you notice as the night continues. 

You sit out in the living room together on the sofa, eating the food you’d brought, watching a drama together. Or rather, you’re watching the drama while Haechan looks at his phone with an empty sofa cushion between you. 

It feels like miles of blank space. 

And you can’t pretend anymore that you’re not bothered. 

Usually Haechan would be the first one to close that gap, unable to resist touching you. He would usually have to have a hand on your bare thigh or his arm around your shoulders to brush his fingers up and down your upper arm. He would have to pull you into his side or against his chest or drag you down so you’re both lying down with him spooning you from behind. 

But tonight. 

It’s you, him, and his phone. 

You sigh loud enough it should’ve caught his attention. 

He taps his fingers against the back of his phone, glances up at the drama playing, and then looks right back to his phone. 

The longer this goes on, the more you feel like he’s just avoiding you. The more you begin to think that maybe the distance between you this last week and a half hasn’t solely been because of work. But what is it? Is there something on his mind that he just isn’t telling you? His silent distance, specifically his distraction with his phone, bothers you more and more the longer it goes on. One episode ends and a new one begins, and Haechan is still looking at his phone, still ignoring the heavy way you sigh in a subtle grab for his attention. 

You begin reading into the silence, seeking answers, seeking attention. 

So you do the one thing you know will grab Haechan’s attention and hold it. 

Sex. 

Haechan is slouched down on the opposite end of the sofa from you, his head propped up on a throw pillow against the arm of the sofa. His phone still holds his attention, but as you climb forward, climbing up the length of his legs, Haechan looks up at you. 

At last. 

“What’re you doing?” His smile grows slowly. 

“I think it’s pretty clear,” you tell him, coming up to straddle his hips, sitting down right in his lap. You slide your hands up his chest. “I had my dinner, now I want dessert. I want you, Haechan.”

Haechan tsks at you. His phone calls to the side, forgotten on the cushion at his shoulder. 

“Always horny, aren’t you, my love? What am I to do with you? Just give you what you want?” As he says it, Haechan reaches for your thighs, smoothly dragging you from your spot in his lap now up his chest while he slides even lower to be lying flat on his back. “Baby, maybe I want a taste of my dessert,” he croons, his hands making quick work of pushing up the oversized shirt of his that you’re wearing. 

His hands are on your chest before you can get a word out. His fingers tease your nipples, palms warm against the softness of your breasts. 

His phone vibrates at your knee. Once, twice, a third time. 

Haechan is finally distracted by you and doesn’t seem to notice the notifications lighting up his phone screen. But you do. Who is texting him?

You risk a glance towards the illuminated screen, and see a cluster of message notifications. For a split second, your heart does a weird flippy floppy act, and then you read the name at the top of the notifications: Eomma-ya. 

His mom. 

Another one comes in, but you can’t read the messages themselves, and at this point you don’t need to. It’s not any of your business, and you relax, letting some of the tension ease out of you, your body reacting eagerly to Haechan’s touches now that your worries have been somewhat assuaged in knowing that it’s just his mom that he’s been messaging. 

Haechan, all of his focus on you now, pinches one of your nipples in a way that sends a jolt of lusty heat right down to your core. 

You whimper quietly, just “Haechan” before all words melt on your tongue when Haechan drags your panties to the side and starts touching you. His fingers tease along your slit, never giving you quite what you want. He keeps it going until you’re dripping, arousal clinging to his fingers, a few drops leaking down to dampen the front of his shirt. And all the while he’s doing this, Haechan watches you with this amused, almost predatory look. 

He watches and waits until he can see that you’re right there on the edge of cumming, and he withdraws his hand. He waits a few moments while you whine and squirm on top of him, and then his fingers are back, drawing intense circles on your clit, edging you right back to where you were before but then he backs off again. Several times he does this until you’re actually starting to get pissed off, but then instead of pulling his hands away from you, he slides down fully onto his back on the sofa, and Haechan drags you up until you’re straddling his face. 

“Go on, baby. Take what you want.” Haechan licks his lips as he says it, and then he leaves his mouth parted, pink tongue laying against his plush lips. 

There’s only one thing you want in that moment and it’s to sit on his face and ride his tongue until your body goes numb from the overstimulation of orgasming. You want to cry his name, to squirt on his tongue, to leave your taste in his mouth for days.

Haechan moans when you sit on him, his arms wrap around you, holding you against his mouth as he eats you out, as you ride his tongue. 

You alternate between tugging at Haechan’s hair (which only makes him moan exaggeratedly against your pussy) or clenching your hands in the shirt you’re wearing. Occasionally, you’ll look down and find Haechan already watching you, his dark eyes drinking in the awed look of pleasure on your face, or staring at your tits if you’ve got your shirt lifted that high. All you know is you feel high, electric, like your body and the entire world are just static, and each stroke of Haechan’s tongue is a shock to your system in the best way. 

Your first orgasm feels weak, just a pulse of sweetness, barely enough for you to really feel before Haechan is doubling down, hands gripping your thighs to pull you down more heavily onto his face. Like he wants you to just suffocate him like this. 

He doesn’t slow down at all, moaning against you as the taste of you continues to leak across his tongue, and you can’t help yourself as you essentially fuck his face, rocking your hips to feel his nose against your clit and his tongue buried deep inside you. 

He’s moaning and you’re moaning, and it’s no wonder that neither of you hear the door to his apartment open until it’s too late, until YangYang is standing there in the door just staring at you losing control of yourself as another orgasm — this one so much more intense and fantastic — crashes through you. 

He watches, and you notice him, but you decide not to pay him any attention. He can stay or he can leave, it really doesn’t bother you either way. 

Haechan’s fingers only slightly loosen the tight hold on your thighs as he licks you through your orgasm. His cheeks are sticky against your thighs, lips sliding against your labia from where you’d squirted. You easily slide backwards, collapsing to sit on his belly. You let your shirt fall down to cover your panties again, and you push your fingers into Haechan’s hair, lower your head to his, and you kiss him, not caring about the mess you’d made on his face. You can taste yourself, but you don’t care, and besides, it seems like Haechan likes that. 

Somewhere, YangYang clears his throat. 

“Stay or leave, dude,” Haechan mumbles against your lips, the words just loud enough for YangYang to hear. “We’re not stopping.”

You don’t know what decision YangYang makes. You don’t hear anything to indicate one choice or the other, and you don’t look around the room either. You just sink against Haechan, sucking on his tongue, at his bottom lip, using your tongue to clean the taste of yourself from his chin. 

Haechan twists you beneath him so he’s on top, pressing you into the sofa, and he peels your shirt off, tossing it over the back of the sofa, and then he has unrestricted access to your chest. Haechan attacks your tits with lips and teeth, his hands giving attention where his mouth doesn’t. 

It’s all a hot blur of lips and skin and teeth and high heat when Haechan’s pants disappear between one breath and the next, your bodies colliding, and his cock filling you smoothly and perfectly. You clutch at his shoulders and bite at his neck while he fits into you, and you arch against him, trying to pull him closer, wanting him to smother you now between the somewhat rough material of the sofa and the smooth press of his skin. 

At one point, he pulls away from you, and you sit up to follow, letting him manhandle you around onto your knees, facing the arm of the sofa as he fits himself against you from behind. He grips your arms up by your shoulders, and the way Haechan thrusts into you is so deep and rough that your teeth clack together and tears burn in your eyes, but you love it. You love the raw passion as he fucks you, and the way that he soon wraps his arms around you, drawing your back to his chest as he rolls his hips forward, dragging his cock in this gliding motion inside you, a slow, smooth pull in your belly that has you cumming again. 

Haechan mouths at your throat while your walls pulse around his cock. You can feel sweat clinging to your skin, both from yourself and from him. His tongue drags up the line of your throat, from the base all the way up to just beneath your ear. 

When Haechan takes your earlobe between his teeth, a pathetic sound spills out of you, one that you’re not even sure where it came from because you’ve never heard that sound before. 

“He’s still watching,” Haechan whispers, his words right against your ear. “YangYang pretended like he just went to his room, but the door is still cracked open, and he probably doesn’t know that I can see his shadow pressed up against the door, watching.”

Your eyes flash open, shooting a look right towards YangYang’s door. It does stand partially ajar, but you couldn’t say if YangYang is standing there or not. He could just be making it up for your benefit, knowing how much you love the idea of being watched, how long it’s been since the two of you did something even slightly exhibitionist.   

One of Haechan’s hands slides up to your throat, his skin burning against yours as he applies the perfect amount of pressure. “I don’t care if he watches,” Haechan growls, “Just so long as he knows who you belong to. Just as long as he knows this is just a pretty show, a one time ticket to view. Because whose are you, angel?”

His hand releases a little, and you breathe in deeply, more than happy to profess, “I’m yours,” with a sigh. 

“Good girl.” Haechan brushes a kiss to your cheek. “Say it again.”

“I’m yours, Haechan.” 

He lets you fall forward. Your ass is still lifted, but your cheek rests against the arm of the sofa as Haechan keeps thrusting forward, and you can feel yet another orgasm building inside you, the heat swelling in your belly as a tingling sensation spreads. 

“That’s right, baby. We were made for each other. You’re mine.” He rolls his hips forward, grinding his cock in deep, a hand flat on your tailbone. “Fuck, say it for me?”

“I’m yours,” you whimper, already feeling the druglike pull of your orgasm as your vision whites out. 

Haechan keeps moving, his movements speeding up as he races to follow you to his orgasm, and as soon as you realize that, a bolt of panic passes through you. 

You lift onto your elbows. “Pull out! Pull out,” you moan, pulling yourself forward off his cock even as Haechan jerks backwards. 

Your pussy clenches uselessly around nothing as Haechan’s cock leaves you, but a second later you feel the warm streaks of his cum paint your lower back, his moans accompanying the sensation. 

Haechan falls over you, his weight only there for a moment before he’s shifting onto his side, his arms wrapped around you to pull you back against him. From this position, you have a clear look at YangYang’s door again. Now, it’s clearly shut. 

“God, I’m glad we did that,” you sigh, “I was tired of you ignoring me for your phone. What was so interesting anyway?” You ask with a laugh, trying to keep it sounding lighthearted as you reach up to push your fingers into Haechan’s hair. 

He tucks his face between your neck and your shoulder, humming a noncommittal sound. He just holds you like that for a little while until you swear it feels like your heartbeats and your breathing have synced with each other. It’s only after several minutes that he lifts his face from your neck. 

“I’m going to tell you something, and I don’t want you to be angry,” he says. 

Already, not off to a great start. 

You tense up, holding your breath. A feeling like an ice cold rod sets itself rigid down your spine. Why does he sound so serious? He was just texting his mom; you saw the new messages coming in from her, so what about that could make you angry? What is he going to say?

Haechan sighs, lowering his chin to rest on the curve of your shoulder. “I’m going home for a bit, a few days,” Haechan tells you, “To Jeju. My mom still lives there, and she wants me to come visit for my birthday this weekend.”

You almost let out a sigh of relief. You know that he can probably see the way that you actually relax, shoulders sinking down now with ease into the cushions. He’s just going to go visit his family for his birthday, and it’s probably about time. He’s told you about them, and you know he hadn’t seen them in a while. 

It’s a good thing. 

“Why would I be angry about that?” You lift a hand up to touch his hair as he lowers his mouth against your shoulder. 

Of course, you wanted to spend his birthday with him. His first birthday while you’ve been together like this, but if he was going out of town and just wanted to spend time with his family, you understand. 

“You took the week off,” Haechan says slowly. “You took it off at least in part because it’s my birthday. You wanted to make plans, but now my mom wants to decide on some different plans.” 

You nod, wondering if that was all he had to say. That’s nothing big. Is this why he’s been distant since last week when you mentioned making plans for his birthday week? Had he already known that his mom wanted him to visit? Was he worried you were going to be upset that he’s going to Jeju? Or maybe he’s wanting to ask you to come along, to finally meet his family? The fact that he’s not saying anything, although you can almost hear his mind silently buzzing with unspoken words, reinforces your theory a bit. 

But if he’s not going to ask then you will. 

“When do I finally get to meet your family anyway?” You twist around to face him, trailing your fingers up his chest. 

Haechan grabs your hand, pulling it away from where you reached his face. He clears his throat and looks over your shoulder into the middle-distance. 

“What?” You laugh, twirling your fingers with his. 

Haechan clears his throat again. Opens his mouth. Closes it. He mumbles, “I’m going to tell you something else. Please don’t be angry.”

The fact that he’s repeating that plea doesn’t bode well at all. 

“Donghyuck?” An uncomfortable weight begins to settle through your belly. What’s his deal right now?

Silence for a beat. 

He swallows hard. 

“I haven’t told my family about you. That we’re… together. They don’t know I’m seeing anyone at all,” he blurts. And then as an afterthought, he tacks on, “Like I said, please don’t be angry.”

Don’t be angry. 

Are you angry?

The feelings flooding through you don’t quite feel like anger — not that bright, burning bite of emotion — but something heavier and deeper, something that slides through your veins like an oil slick. 

What does he mean he hasn’t told them about you? That they don’t know that you’re…. Together. And the way he’d hesitated when he said that?! What does that mean? 

He’s your boyfriend! So what was with the hesitation?

You’re almost living together. Spending pretty much every single night together at one apartment or the other, with plans to find an apartment — and now you remember him backing out of the apartment viewing you’d found the other day — and move in together. He’s met your family, who adore him. You’ve talked about the future: marriage, family, kids, and dreams. 

You’re in love with him and he often tells you he loves you, too. 

But Haechan hasn’t even mentioned your relationship to his family. 

You can’t believe it. 

You draw yourself away from him, lifting yourself off the sofa. 

“Are you mad?” Haechan asks again. You feel his fingertips brush against your tailbone. 

“Am I mad? Are you fucking kidding, Haechan?” Ah, there you can feel a bit of anger flickering to life in your sternum, catching at the tail ends of your words. 

Haechan can’t even look you in the eye as you stand above him. 

“You haven’t told them about me? Can I ask why?” You’re trying to tame the anger in your voice, to keep that fiery heat from swelling inside you to an inferno, but it’s not working. “Is it because of me? You don’t actually want to be with me?”

“That’s stupid, of course that’s not it!” Haechan stares up at you, shock in his eyes before he looks away again, down at his hands. “I haven’t told them about you, about us, because I don’t want them to judge.”

And that only incenses you further. 

The sound that leaves you is anger, frustration, and hurt all blended into one. A scream and a shout, a cry as you search the floor for the shirt of his you’d borrowed earlier. 

You find it halfway tucked beneath the end of the sofa, and you snatch it up, drag it on. 

“You don’t want your family to judge me? Fine. I guess it seems that you’ve already decided that they’ll find me lacking.” You know you’re shouting, but you can’t help it. Tears sting at your eyes, burning as the words fly from your mouth. “Fuck you, Lee Donghyuck.”

Behind you, there’s the sound of a door opening, and then YangYang’s voice asking, “What’s going on?”

You snort, spinning around to head for Haechan’s room, leaving him and YangYang behind in the living room. You can hear them speaking as you dig around in Haechan’s room for a clean pair of pants for you to wear. 

When you walk back out a moment later, your bag on your shoulder, both of the men turn to look at you. 

“Where are you going?” Haechan asks. 

“I’m fucking leaving.” You stride past him. 

“Fuck, Haechan,” YangYang groans. “I told you not to fuck things up with her! What the hell did you do?”

Before you reach the door, Haechan calls out your name. You pause, hand reaching for the door handle, waiting, but he doesn’t say anything else, and you don’t turn to look at him. 

You wait, seconds tuck by, and still he remains silent behind you. 

He can’t even ask you to stay? Not even that?

You open the door, and you leave. 

Haechan doesn’t follow. 

Friday morning, you call in sick to work. 

In a way, you are sick. 

You don’t want to see Haechan today, but at the same time you don’t not want to see him either. The two conflicting desires leave your stomach in knots. 

He’s going to leave for Jeju today, spend the whole weekend and his birthday there with his family and not thinking about you. And you already know you’re going to spend the whole week only thinking of him. Maybe you’ll get drunk tonight and tomorrow and Sunday too. Or maybe every day of the week, since you’ve got the whole thing. Maybe you’ll drink until you can forget that Haechan doesn’t love you as much as you thought he did, that he must not actually dream of a future with you even though you’ve both talked about it. 

You spent the whole night crying and choking down a quart of ice cream with your roommate and her partner comforting you. 

You miss Haechan. 

It’s been twelve hours and you miss him because you never argue with him and then don’t immediately make up. You’ve had big fights, but up until last night you’ve always made up shortly after. You’ve lived by the rule of never going to bed angry. 

But last night you were angry and upset when you finally fell asleep, clutching your phone and wondering why he hasn’t called or texted. 

Friday morning ticks by and you mope in bed, glancing at the clock, knowing you should get up, that you should shower and eat. But you can’t. 

You ignore a call from Yuta at work, ignore a couple texts from YangYang. You consider letting your phone just die or putting it on do not disturb, but you can’t deny that you’re really hoping that one time when the phone rings or buzzes with a message notification that it’ll be Haechan. 

He really just let you walk out of there last night. 

He really hasn't told his family about you. 

You roll over and hide your face in your pillow. 

Some time later, a series of buzzes from your phone draws you out of the light doze you sank into. Your heart lifts, and when you check the screen you see….

YangYang.  

What does he want? Why is he calling?

“Mm?” Is all the sound you can muster when you deign to answer the call. 

“Hello?” YangYang says. “Are you there?”

“What, YangYang?” You hate the way your voice sounds right then. Like it’s clear that you’ve been crying all night and periodically over the past few hours. 

You can hear YangYang walking around, trying not to make noise. And then he whispers, “I think you should come over here. He’s about to leave for the weekend.”

“Excuse me?” What exactly is YangYang asking you? Does he think that because he watched the two of you last night, because you let him watch last night, because you and Haechan had a big fight last night that you’ll just sneak over there to hook up with him as soon as Haechan leaves for a few days?

“What?” YangYang asks, and then a brief pause before he exclaims, “Oh! No, like…. I don’t mean….” He sighs, then clarifies, “I really think you should come over here, and Haechan is about to leave for Jeju, and I think you should go with him. He told me last night after you left what the real problem was. I thought you’d just finally found out what a freak he is, but he assured me that you know and you don’t care. That he’s just a fucking idiot who hasn’t told his mom that you’re his girlfriend. There's an obvious solution here.”

You grunt in acknowledgement. “But you’re the one asking me, not him.” 

“Just come over.” YangYang’s tone doesn’t leave much room for arguing. “He’s an idiot, but surely you knew that before you started dating him. Come over, talk to him, and go with him.”

“I’m hanging up,” you force the words out just a split second before you end the call on YangYang. 

You lie there for a few minutes, holding your phone, staring up at the ceiling. Thinking. 

Is Haechan, like, fucking embarrassed to be with you? Is that why he hasn’t told his family about you? Why would you want to show up right before he leaves on that trip, to argue with him some more about it? You don’t want to ruin his trip, even if you are upset with him right now. 

And why should you go without him making any sign of apology first? It’s YangYang reaching out to you, not Haechan, and that doesn’t feel right either. If Haechan isn’t going to make the effort to say that he’s sorry, that he sees the wrong he’s done in this situation, then why should you put in the effort?

You lie there for a little while longer, turning your phone over and over in your hands. 

Your phone buzzes with a message, and you turn it over quickly just to see that it’s a message from YangYang. 

“Don’t know if you’re on your way over, but he just left.”

Your heart does a strange tumble in your chest. 

Not that you were really thinking about going over there, but it gives you a strange feeling to know that it’s not an option anymore. Haechan is gone, on his way to Jeju island. 

But something about that is the impetus you needed, and you finally lug yourself out of bed and into the shower. 

Maybe you should just text Haechan, you think as you massage your shampoo through your hair. Just open up that pathway with him so he knows you’re not totally pissed off to the point that you want to break up. Because you definitely don’t want to break up with him. He’s Haechan, the love of your life. 

You spend the rest of your shower drafting up different versions of the message you want to send him, so as soon as you step out of the shower, you reach for your phone, ready to send the message. 

But then you see you have several notifications. A couple texts. Three missed calls. 

All from Haechan. 

Then, somewhat muffled by distance, you hear a thud and your phone rings again. Haechan. 

And the thudding noise again, but you now recognize it as knocking on your apartment door. 

You don’t even bother to dry off. Instead, you just wrap the towel around you and beeline straight for the front door. The knocking continues as you approach. 

Through the peephole you can see Haechan standing there, his phone pressed to his ear while he knocks with the other hand. You can see his lips moving, and through the door you hear his muffled voice saying, “Come on, please. Please don’t just ignore me, baby.”

Your phone rings again in your hand. 

Haechan drops his head against the door. 

The moment you touch the deadbolt, Haechan straightens up, and when you pull the door open a few inches, you can see him standing there and looking at you with heavy emotions weighing down the corners of his mouth. 

“What, Donghyuck?” 

His lips, which had begun to lift into a smile, sink once more. You know he doesn’t like when you use his real name, especially not when the tone you say it in is sharp and hard, not at all softened by a smile as it usually is with him. 

His eyebrows furrow together a bit. “I’m sorry. I came here to say I’m sorry. All last night after you left, I kept thinking about you, about how I made a mistake. How I wanted to get out of bed and come over here to apologize and make things right. But I figured that you wouldn’t want to see me.”

Frankly, if he’d shown up last night, you probably wouldn’t have even granted him the courtesy of opening your door even this much. But right now you open it a few inches more, with your body barring the way. 

“Do you realize how much it hurt me to hear you say that, Haechan? To realize that I love you so much, that all of our friends and my family know that we’re together, that you and I have discussed the future and have made tentative plans to move into a place together, but you haven’t even told your family that I hold even a small place in your mind? That makes me feel like shit, Haechan. How am I supposed to take anything you say seriously now? Do you mean it when you tell me you love me? Do you really want to move in together? Do you mean it when you tell me about how much you want to get married and be a dad, and if you do mean it, do you mean you want it with me?”

Silence follows your words for a moment. Haechan stands there in front of you, wringing his hands together. 

“I’m an idiot,” he says finally. “I just… I know I should’ve told them about you. But there’s some things that I just want to hold close, and you’re one of them. Because I’m embarrassed. Not by you!” He quickly says, looking up at you with wide eyes. “I’ve never…. I’ve never brought anyone home before. They’ve never met anyone I’ve been in a relationship with, never seen me with anyone in a romantic way. That’s what I’m embarrassed about. They’ve never seen this side of me, this totally over-the-top in love side. Not to mention that I’m embarrassed by how for years we were just friends, but when I realized I had feelings for you, I fell so hard and fast.”

“You are an idiot,” you agree. “Do you think it wasn’t embarrassing for me? To have my family walk in on us? To have to introduce them to you minutes later? As soon as I told them your name, I could tell that they were laughing because for years, Haechan, I’d been talking about you. My mom teases me about it later that night. But never once, not for one minute, did I think it would be too embarrassing for them to know that I was dating you, that I’m in love with you.”

Haechan lowers his head. 

You tighten your hold on the towel you’re clutching around yourself. “But you have to see this from my side, right? You’ve been telling me that you love me, but then you tell me that I’m a huge secret from your family, they’ve never heard about me. You have to see how I would take that, don’t you? How I would hear that and believe that I’m nothing more than a fun fuck for you, a way for you to get kinky?”

“No,” Haechan interjects. “No, you’re not that. You have to know that.”

The way he’s staring at you tears at your heart. You’ve pretty much already forgiven him. You don’t want to be mad at him, after all, and he’s made this effort to come here and apologize. But, you’d like to see him grovel a little longer. 

Haechan says, “I was just embarrassed to realize I was so dumb and blind for so long, to go from telling myself that all the feelings I had for you were only friendly to suddenly being so in love with you and wanting you so much that it hurt me to watch anyone else touch you or look at you for too long. I love you, I want you. I want to live with you and be in love with you for the rest of our lives. But I need you to forgive me for being ridiculous. There’s really only one way to make things right, isn’t there?” 

Haechan takes a half-step backwards. 

Your heart lurches in your chest as he begins to sink down on one knee. 

You open the door fully now, staring in unmitigated shock at Haechan as he lowers himself down.

“Lee Donghyuck—“ Your tone is one of warning. 

He glances up at you. His lips tilt into a smirk, and he drops the other knee so that he’s just kneeling on the floor in front of your door. He folds his hands together, looks up at you with amusement lighting his eyes, hands lifted in a pleading manner as he begs, “Will you please forgive me, baby? My angel? Forgive me and come with me this weekend. Come meet my family.”

With a groan, you reach over and shove at his shoulder. 

Haechan laughs, dropping down to sit on his ankles. 

“You’re a dick,” you whine. 

“What? Did you think I was going to ask something else?” Haechan laughs, still looking up at you. 

You simply roll your eyes at him, turn around and walk away into your apartment, leaving the door open behind you.

Haechan calls out after you, “What’s your answer?”

“Just come inside!” You’re already walking into your bedroom, already reaching for a bag and some clothes. You hear the apartment door close, and then the sound of his footsteps crossing the floor. “Are you at least going to give your mom a heads up that you’re bringing someone with you?”

Haechan leans in your doorway, watching as you collect clothes and fold them nicely into your bag. He hums a little sound, “I may have called her earlier. I told her that I’ve been seeing a girl, and she asked me a thousand questions about you, and I told her that you’re coming home with me this weekend, so she’ll be able to ask you everything.”

“And what if I’d told you no? What if I really was ignoring you and just never answered?” You glance over at him, and Haechan is just watching you with this gentle smile. 

“I didn’t want to even consider that possibility,” Haechan says with a shake of his head.

You walk away to your bathroom, gathering your toiletries together. 

While you’re in there, Haechan says, “I love you, you know that, right? Like, I’m so in love with you, I’m sure I’m gonna catch shit about it this weekend from my mom and my siblings. They’re gonna tease the hell out of me, especially once my mom realizes who you are. Like I said yesterday, and never really got the chance to explain, I feel like there’s gonna be some judgment this weekend.”

You pop your head back out of the bathroom. Yes, that statement from him the night before had certainly triggered some of the more heated emotions that sent you walking out of his apartment. So right now, hearing it again, you can’t help asking, “And what does that mean?”

“Nothing bad.” Haechan rolls his eyes with a good-natured smile. “You’re wonderful. I don’t think they would find you lacking. If anything, they’re going to judge me against you and wonder why the hell you would put up with me.” 

That’s bullshit. “As if. Haechan, you’re perfect. I’ve heard the way you talk about your mom, and I know you, so there’s no way that she doesn’t believe you’re perfect.”

Haechan snorts. “I know you think I’m perfect, angel, but not everyone feels the same. Especially not when you’re there with all of your… you-ness.”

“Meaning what exactly?” What does your you-ness mean? Is it a compliment?

Haechan stands there for a moment as you emerge from the bathroom to pack your toiletries into your bag, and you can see him mulling over the words, rolling them around in his mind and on his tongue for a moment before he finally lets them out. 

“You are perfect. Like actually. I’m good at imitating perfection maybe, but you just… are.” Haechan sighs suddenly. “Everything about you just fits into this bubble of perfection in my mind. You’re an angel in my eyes, and I know you know it.”

A warm glow through your chest, melting the last bits of icy bitterness remaining from your fight yesterday. 

And you dissolve just a little more when Haechan walks closer, when he clutches one of your hands, bringing it to his chest, against his heart. 

He tells you, “You’re beautiful, kind, hard-working and smart. You’re one of the only women in our company, the best in your area, and you just keep excelling. When you got that promotion, oh my God. I’m so proud of you, proud to call myself your boyfriend. You’re living your dream, and I wish I could do that.” 

It is your dream to be working this job, to have a successful career in this field. You know that Haechan enjoys his work in this area too, but after that night of your first date, when you’d encouraged him to sing, you’d reawakened his youthful dream of being a singer, one that he hasn’t made much progress towards achieving, though not from lack of trying. 

Haechan’s heart beats steadily beneath your hand. He holds your gaze as he continues speaking from the heart. 

“I couldn’t possibly find anyone in this world to love me better than you. You’re a daydream, and my favorite  wet dream, to put it bluntly. So, yeah. You’re perfect, my angel, and as soon as my family realizes that you’re the one I’ve been telling them about for years now, the friend I met as a freshman, my mom is gonna call me an idiot for waiting so long to realize that I was in love with you.”

That makes you laugh, genuinely laugh from the belly. 

You pull your hand away from his chest so you can instead throw your arms around his shoulders and pull him into a tight hug.

“You are an idiot for waiting years to realize that you were in love with me.” You crush yourself against him, unable to disagree with his mom’s hypothetical words. “I had a crush on you from day one, Haechan, and we were friends for so long. It’s only because of you that it took us so long.”

Haechan makes a face. “I don’t know about that.”

You scoff. “It’s true. You were so blind to me for years, and now look at you.” You pull back from the hug so you can see his face. “You’re a total sucker for me, wrapped around my finger.”

A slow-growing smile appears on Haechan’s face. “Oh? I am wrapped around your finger?”

You nod.

Haechan tsks at you. “I think you’re mistaken, angel. You’re the one wrapped around my finger, baby, and sometimes around multiple fingers.” As he says it, Haechan tightens the arm around your waist. He touches his lips to your ear. “You’re often wrapped around my tongue, like last night.” he croons. 

You shiver a little, recalling the pleasure of riding his face on the sofa last night. But you don’t have time for that sort of distraction right now. If you’re going to make it to Jeju island today, you should probably be leaving soon. 

“Just admit it, baby,” Haechan is still saying, “If one of us will do anything the other asks of them, it’s you.”

Again, you scoff. You push out of his hold. “Why don’t you take my bag while I get dressed.”

You’re still just wearing your towel after the shower. And you don’t think traveling to meet his family in just a towel would give them a very good first impression. 

Haechan grins, pecks a kiss to your cheek, grabs your bag, and heads out your bedroom door. 

a/n: Haechan in the story is a bit of a dumbass tbh, like??? Just tell your family about the woman that you're literally so in love with!!! But... anyway, you'll get a little bit of his POV in the next chapter about that! You'll also be getting more of totally, fully, completely in love Haechan waxing romantic about Y/N.

I can't believe that next chapter is gonna be the end already, I feel like I just started writing and posting this fic not too long ago!

As always, your likes, reblogs, comments, messages, stream of consciousness thoughts about YIMA are greatly appreciated! Thank you!!

previous chapter || next chapter  (Coming Soon)

[lincolndjarin]

Best Kept Secret

chapter twenty four : lunar interlude : riduur

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 7.8k (at last, a normal chapter length)

summary : din is so in love it's obscene at this point, keep it in your chest man (it being his heart.)

warnings, etc. : language, fluff, smut, this chapter is a sappy nightmare,,, like i've got one last chance to be sappy before i need to do my action packed finale so this is just me being sappy, din djarins so in love it makes me sick, fingering, p in v, clit stim, reverse cowgirl, creampie, cockwarming, massages, just general happiness like why are these idiots so happy what is their problem

a/n : WOOF this took a fucking WHILE to get out, and for those who waited, prepare to be UNDERWHELMED lmao. this is the last chapter before the final arc of the story and i was feeling rather sentimental while I wrote it. anyhow,,, i have a million excuses for why this took so long but like who cares cause it's here now yippee!!! as for every chapter i've ever posted i have no idea if i like this or not so there's that, i kind of hate this one the way i hate every lunar interlude, like i've never written a din pov and felt good about it lmao so i guess we'll see. comments and reblogs are appreciated <3

He doesn’t deserve this.

How could he possibly be deserving of you? Yet somehow you make him feel as if he is. With your soft touch and the way your eyes get just a little bigger when you see him. 

He’s going to ask you to marry him.

Is that something he can do? 

Technically of course you don’t really consider yourself married as far as he can tell. Sure you have a husband but that’s all he is, a husband. 

An obstacle. 

The two of you could still be married. 

And you wanted to leave this place. So he was going to give you exactly that. 

A home, far away from here. 

He pulls you into the cabin, wanting nothing more than for you to see the smile on his face. Of course you won’t let him do that much to his confusion. 

Maybe if you’re married to him you’ll look. 

The longer you wait the more nervous he gets about it. 

A lot can go wrong with this kind of thing. 

Very specifically, you could just not find him attractive in the slightest, which wouldn’t be great all things considered. If that happened maybe he could just live with the helmet on and you’d be okay with that. 

“Do you want to sleep here tonight or go back to the castle?” You look exhausted as he asks, he practically carries you towards the bed. 

“Here’s fine.” You look too tired to walk back anyway. 

He drags the mattress off of the busted frame, setting it on the floor. You seem surprised that he didn’t have a bigger reaction to your love confession. 

He did the first time you’d said it a few days ago. 

After the first day stuck in your room, you had said it that night. All you had wanted to do that day was fight and he hadn’t been able to give you even that. He knew you were right. It was stupid to stay. 

Even if things are okay now. 

You had said his name so clearly with such urgency that he believed you might be about to start another argument in the middle of the night.

“Din?” You had grabbed the front of his shirt and it wasn’t until he’d tried to talk to you that he’d realized you were still asleep. 

“Are you okay, sarad?” He sat up and cradled your head in his hands but you’d only held on tighter as you mumbled in your sleep.

“I love you.” And just like that you were collapsing back in his arms, still asleep as if nothing had happened. 

He hadn’t cried like he did that night since the kid left. 

And it didn’t matter when you didn’t say it back in the morning. (Despite the fact that he had said it quite a bit.) You loved him and he knew it. And he had made sure to show you just how much he loved you on that second day. 

He grins as you sit down on the bed with a yawn. He takes it upon himself to kneel beside you, unlacing the back of your gown. You have no resistance as he helps peel the rain soaked fabric from your skin. 

“Let me get you a change of clothes.” He leaves you to get out of the rest as he finds you a simple set of sleep wear. You let him redress you until he finally lays you down and stands, going to change out of his own wet clothes. 

When he steps out of the fresher you’ve turned the lights off he's in a clean flight suit with his helmet on as he slides under the blankets with you. 

“Warm enough?” The cabin feels colder than the castle as he pulls you closer. 

“I’m perfectly comfortable here.” Your voice is heavy with sleep as he rests his chin on the top of your head, beskar bumping against your hair. 

“Get some sleep.” He mumbles, not bothering to close his own eyes. 

“You promised you’d eat the candy.” You whisper into the darkness, you sound  barely conscious. 

“I did not.” At least he’s pretty sure he didn’t, he’s realized at this point that if he says anything with enough confidence you usually believe it. 

“You alluded to it.” You’re right, he probably did. 

“Do you really want to see the damage I would do after eating that thing?” He’ll never do it. In all honesty he’s a little nervous he’ll accidentally hurt you.

“A little.” You flip over in his arms so you’re facing him now, when you look at him he finds himself falling victim to the pleading look in your eyes. Damn nightvision. 

“Go to sleep.” He has to close his eyes, if he stares at you too long he’ll give in despite his own worries. “I love you.” He murmurs. He needs you to know it. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” You laugh softly before going silent. 

It only takes a few more minutes before your breathing gets quiet and steady against him. 

When he’s certain you’re asleep he reaches over to turn the lamp back on. You’d think with how often he does this that you’d have seen his face on accident at some point but maybe he’s just really lucky. 

He likes to look at you without the helmet on.

It’s fine with it, but nothing compares to seeing you without the barrier. Sometimes, if he’s still wearing the helmet and he takes it off you smile in your sleep when the airlock hisses. But since you’re insistent on not looking he doesn’t get a lot of opportunities to really look at you. So he does it on nights like these. 

You get so sleepy after sex. 

So he gets to hold you, and watch how your eyes flutter open the tiniest bit when he can’t help himself and kisses your cheeks until he can bring himself to sleep. Or how you mumble back to him when he whispers things to you in Mando’a. 

Most importantly you look less worried when you sleep. You always look so worried but not when you’re like this. There is plenty to be worried about so he can’t hold it against you. 

He’s going to build you a house someday. And he’s going to give you a garden. 

So you can go outside and look at the flowers whenever you want. 

And you won’t ever have to worry again. 

With a soft hiss of air he removes his helmet, setting it somewhere in the sheets as he looks at you, unburdened. He likes the way your lips part just a little bit as the corners of your mouth lift. 

He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your cheek before rolling over to rest his head on your chest so he can feel you breathe until he falls asleep, it helps him to match your breathing. Your hands hold him, even in your sleep you run your hands across his back and shoulders. One time you had a nightmare and you pulled his hair so hard you’d woke yourself up. But he’d never complain, it’s one of his favorite things about you. You love him even when you’re sleeping. Like right now, your nails lighty scratch at the nape of his neck. 

It helps him sleep.

☆

When he wakes up he’s got a blanket thrown over his head and you’re already up, sitting at the table.

“You fell asleep without your helmet on.” He hears you grumble. 

“Sorry.” He chuckles as he searches for it in the mess of sheets only to find you’d set it on the floor beside him. Once it’s properly in place he finds you reading. He stands behind you, looking over your shoulder. 

“How did you find that?” He tries to grab the translation book but you swat his hand away. 

“You said we had no secrets.” Your eyes are scanning the pages. “Ner means mine.” You grin up at him as you say it. 

“Yes, it does.” He stares right back down at you. 

You lean backwards, grabbing the front of his shirt. 

“Ner.” 

Would you think less of him if you knew how often his face turned red when you spoke to him like that? A few weeks ago that kind of worry would drive him mad, but now? He knows you wouldn’t mind, knowing you'd probably feel accomplished to get such a reaction from him. 

“Gar serim.” You’re right. He murmurs back before getting your things together, listening to the sound of the pages frantically flipping behind him as you look for the words.

When you find the page you give him a dopey smile 

He suddenly remembers something, going to the fresher and searching through last night's wet clothes he finds the vial, bringing it to you, you don’t need any instruction from him as you pop the cap off, drinking the contents before setting it aside. 

“What do you want to do today?” He holds up the scraps of your dress, trying to decide if it’s even worth putting back on. 

“I’m a little tired, maybe we could read today.” You turn just in time to watch him toss it back on the ground. 

“Sounds perfect.” This will give him some much needed time to think.

He has a plan for today. There are a few things that he needs to get done before he leaves.

Like tell you that he has to leave. 

Of course he doesn’t want to leave you, even if it’s only going to be for a few days, but he wants to do this the right way and to do that he needs to leave. 

Just a few days. And then he doesn’t have to leave you ever again. 

And he needs to get away from you long enough to make the failsafe he knows you don’t want. You’re always together at this point, (not that he would have it any other way.) so it won’t be easy to find time away to do it but he’ll figure it out. 

“We should get going.” He’s pretty sure he has everything he needs and you need to be back in your room before any staff might notice you’re gone. 

“But  I wanna keep doing this.” You give him your sad eyes as you gesture to the book and he’s already ready to give in. 

“You can bring that to the library.” He groans and that’s all the convincing needed to get you on your feet. He manages to get you back to your room just before the girls arrive. He stands where he’s expected to stand out in the hall. It’s the only time he really spends away from you. 

When the door opens he instinctively stands up a little straighter.

They put you in a white dress. 

A pretty white dress. 

Did you know what this would do to him? 

You can’t possibly know the effect this kind of thing has on him, if you did you wouldn’t put him through this. 

“Ready?” He says as he peers at the translation book still happily tucked under your arm.

“Of course.” He’s mesmerized by your gown, it’s simpler than the ones they normally do you up in, white fabric flowing off your shoulders down to the floor, as you walk it trails behind you a bit. It’s a familiar quiet as he walks you to those large wooden doors, opening them as you rush inside. 

“What do you want to read today?” You’re searching around the shelves, you’ve already set your own reading in the nook. 

“Surprise me.” He won’t be reading today anyway, he needs to plan. 

“Here.” You hand him a book on speeder maintenance, normally he’d be thrilled to spend the day reading the sort of thing but he really should just take today to think. 

He sits first. Leaving space between his legs for you to sit which you happily do. Once you’re settled he opens his book, pretending to read as he lets his mind focus on what's important. 

Starting with the part where he tells you he’s leaving.

Or that he’s decided rather recently that he needs to leave.   

He should just do it now, get it out of the way so it stops bothering him, especially because he’d like to leave as soon as possible, but you seem so relaxed right now and he’d hate to ruin that. 

So he’ll focus more on the trip itself than the telling you part. 

It should only take a few days. A quick trip to the forge and back. 

He’s pretty sure he’s found out where the convert currently is. He doesn't have as much free time as he used to so it took a little outside help, seeking out old colleagues until finally hearing word of an outer rim planet where they might be located. He’ll catch a transport ship there, take care of what needs to be taken care of, and be back to you before he knows it. 

Then you can plan your life together. 

He would love to just bring you to the forge with him, go from there and never look back. That would be ideal. To get you out of here as quickly as possible. But that’s not possible, if he’s gonna go this he’s gonna do it right, so he’ll plan everything down to the last detail to make sure that it’s as safe as possible. If he’s being realistic he knows you’ll have to do something drastic, probably along the lines of faking your death. 

Will he have to kill Kodo? 

He’d like to. 

He’s wanted to kill Kodo for some time now, he’s just a little worried you’d be mad, you were so mad when he hit him. 

He never wanted you to be that mad at him ever again. 

So maybe he won’t. 

That would be the easiest way to get you out though, to be fair. Kill Kodo and run, and deal with the consequences after. He’ll hide you away somewhere until things die down and then he’ll build you something permanent. A home for the both of you. 

He could also just whisk you away into the night one of these days. 

He honestly isn’t sure how long they’d look for you, the last thing he’d want is for you to have to live a life on the run, he wants for the both of you to be able to settle. If it was clear he had taken you it would be deemed a kidnapping, it would be a long search, how long would they look if they believed you just ran away? He doesn’t talk to other staff members enough to know how seriously the royal family would take such a thing. 

Faking your death would probably be the easiest thing. 

No one comes looking for you. 

He isn’t entirely sure how you’ll handle that suggestion but if you’re serious about starting a life together it isn’t going to be easy. 

“I’ll be right back.” He stands, and you immediately give him a confused look, he never gets up and leaves, but he’s just realized that you’ll need to be taken care of while he’s gone. Who will protect you when he’s away? He definitely doesn’t trust anyone here to watch over you, Elaine would be his first choice but she’s busy when she isn’t tending to you and in all honesty he isn’t sure what she would do if something were to happen to you. 

So he’ll have to go with someone who he knows is available to watch you and who he’s certain won’t harm you. 

You aren’t going to be happy with his choice. 

When he steps out into the hall he calls his name, a few moments later Leo appears, he already seems reluctant, Din never summons him but this is important, and he doesn’t have any other options. 

“I’m leaving, tomorrow, I have to take care of some things, Kodo said it would be fine for me to take time off when I took the job.” Tomorrow. Well that’s settled then he supposes. The twi’lek trembles under his gaze, clearly unsure as to where he’s going with this.  

“While I’m gone you will watch her.” Din adds on at the end, Leo looks clearly unhappy with this arrangement as he stumbles back a bit. 

“Me?” 

“I won’t repeat myself. You will watch her, you will make sure she doesn’t leave the castle when I am gone. If somebody tries to get near her, you stop them, if somebody tries to hurt her, you will stand between them, if she gets hurt you will feel whatever pain she feels tenfold upon my return. If she so much as gets a papercut while she’s reading in the library there will be repercussions.” He straightens his posture to make himself the tiniest bit more imposing over Leo. “Is that understood?”

“Yes, you’re understood.” Based on the fear in Leo’s eyes he’s certain he may have gone a little overboard but he’d rather be safe than sorry. 

“Good.”

That’s taken care of. 

Once Leo is gone, disappearing down the hall, he opens the door, slipping back into the library where you’re standing in the entryway.

At least he doesn’t have to figure out how to tell you. 

“You’re leaving.” You say it like it’s a fact. Which of course you now know it is. 

“Yes.” No sense in hiding it. 

“And you just weren’t going to tell me?” He definitely should have told you. 

“I was just about to tell you.” He hates when you look at him the way you are now. Like you can see right through the steel, like you know he’s lying, like you can see the guilty expression on his face. “I was going to tell you soon. I have to go take care of some things.” 

“Take me with you.” You say it more like a demand and less like a request. He probably should have seen that one coming, even if he wasn’t going to get something to surprise you with he probably wouldn’t be allowed to take you off planet. 

“I wish I could, sarad, but I have to go alone, I’ll only be gone a few days.” Kriff, he really should have told you sooner. 

“Where are you going?” You cross your arms in front of your chest. 

“I… can’t tell you.” Not a great excuse, he knows that. 

“If I’m being honest I don’t love the sound of that.” He can’t blame you, if your roles were reversed he wouldn’t just let you go. 

“I know but I need you to trust me, I’ll only be gone a few days.”

“And you absolutely have to go?” You sound less mad and more upset now. If he wasn’t leaving to do something for you, your expression alone would be enough to make him stay. 

“Yes. He says it like he’s confirming it for himself. 

“I’ll miss you.” All the anger has left your voice, now you just sound sad. 

“I’ll miss you.” More than anything. 

“When will you be back?” 

“I’m not sure exactly, I won’t be long.” Unless he can’t find the convert, but you don’t need to know that part. You nod and he’s a little surprised at your acceptance of all this. “I have to leave in the morning.” A deep frown settles on your face. 

“So soon?” He really should have told you sooner.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. If you have to then you have to.” You give him such a sad smile, he wishes he didn’t have to go but he wants to do this right. 

“Can you stay here, I’ll come get you in a few hours.” He cradles your face in his hands, wishing he could wash away any of your doubts, but now that you know he should probably go get ready. “I have to go pack a few things, I’ll be back before dark, okay?” 

“And then you’ll stay with me the rest of the night?” And every night after. 

“Of course.” 

“Okay then, hurry back.” 

This will also probably be the only chance he gets to make that fail safe.  

He lifts his helmet a bit to plant a kiss on your forehead before leaving you, watching as you instinctively close your eyes as he does. There isn’t a lot of time for him to do what he needs to do before you’ll be expecting him so he gets back to the cabin as quickly as possible.

He’s quick with everything, packing his bag with only the essentials and tossing the empty box down before finally sitting down at the table. 

Now to write the note. A letter with instructions on what to do if something ever happens to him. 

He doesn’t like the idea of you being left alone with your husband. The thought of it makes him sick. 

If another body guard were hired they wouldn’t protect you from him. 

Maybe he should ask Elaine to help you if that happens. 

She could get you out. 

If he wasn’t here he would want you to leave as quickly as possible, to go somewhere safe. He lists out all the places you could go, names and coordinates of people who can keep you safe at the mention of his name. He spends a solid hour staring at that piece of paper, writing out anything he’d want you to know before folding it up and setting it in the box. 

With that taken care of he kneels on the floor, feeling around until locating the familiar loose board under the kitchen table. 

He’d found it a week after moving in and it seemed like a perfectly good spot to hide things. He’s got a collection of things already set aside for you, he pulls each item from its hiding spot, putting them into the box before holding up a small chainmail shirt. He retrieves the stick shift knob from the shelf, wrapping it in the shirt and putting it in the box. 

In his note he’s left you with a task, to give those to the kid, and to tell him that he’s sorry. 

Lastly he fills a bag with credits, about a month's salary, you should be able to buy yourself a ship if you want, he isn’t sure if you’d know how to fly it but with the money provided you can pay someone to fly it for you. With that he sets the box under an extra flight suit in his bag before returning to the castle, on his way out the door he grabs the few bars of beskar he has. 

You’re right where he left you in the library, your brows furrowed as you stare at that damn book, he should have hidden it better. 

“Wanna go get some dinner?” You look up when he speaks, holding his hand out which you gladly take as he pulls you towards him. 

“We can do that. You’re all packed?” Thankfully you look less upset than you had earlier. 

“All packed.” He drops your hand as he opens the door, following you as you walk to the kitchens. He watches the way the back of your dress just barely drags along the stone floors as you ask for two dinners, handing his to him to carry with a smile as you continue to walk.

When you arrive back at your chambers you’re quick to lock the door, he watches as you rush to the closet, already sitting with your back to him when he steps inside, dim lamp light illuminates the room as he sits, his back brushing against yours as he listens to the sounds of your eating. 

What he wouldn’t give to eat face to face. 

He can’t remember the last time he shared a normal meal with someone. He ate in front of the kid but he always kept the helmet on, it would have been years and years ago, maybe with his parents. 

He finds the latch for his helmet, tossing it aside, he’s already decided he won’t be putting it back on tonight, he chews his food thoughtfully. What would life look like with you after this place? He certainly wouldn’t want to eat dinner like this every night. 

Maker, why won’t you just look? Everything would be easier if you’d just look. He would abandon his creed entirely if that’s what you wanted. Instead he loves the one person in the galaxy who doesn’t want to look. 

“You’re being quiet.” You finally break the silence as he sits up a little straighter.

“I’m always quiet.” He murmurs. 

“You think I don’t know that? You’re being extra quiet, what’s wrong.” 

“Nothing’s wrong.” He takes another bit as you lean back against him, resting your back on his as he hears you set your plate aside.

“You’ve been quiet all day.” Of course he has, he has to leave you tomorrow and you’ve been in a white dress all day. 

“I’m quiet every day.” He finishes his food quickly, reaching around blindly until he finds your plate, standing to set the both outside the room, when he turns around this time he faces you, kneeling on the floor behind you as he plays with the lace on the back of the dress, lining a series of buttons in a straight line down your spine. 

“You’re avoiding the point.” You snap at him but he just continues to trail his fingers across the intricate patterns of your dress.

“I’m just gonna miss you, that’s all.” 

“I’m gonna miss you too.” Your tone has softened.

“Want me to show you how much I’m gonna miss you?” He gives the back of your gown a teasing tug. 

“That might be nice.” You’re already reaching towards the lamp but he takes your hand, guiding it back into your lap. 

“Leave it.”

“Din…” You have a soft warning tone as he kisses your exposed shoulder. 

“Please, I want to see you.” He murmurs against your skin as he bunches up the fabric of your dress, pulling it up towards your hips. 

“But-” He’s quick to cut you off. 

“It’s fine, if you don’t look then you won’t see.” He swiftly unlatches his armor, setting it aside as he pulls you into his lap, his chest flush with your back. He turns to kiss your cheek, watching your eyes flutter shut as he does. 

He bunches up your skirt enough so he can see your thighs, pulling his gloves off so he can touch you, he likes the feeling of his skin on yours, how often does he get to have this? Only ever with you, not that he’d have it any other way. You’re just so soft, he likes the way you feel when he spreads your thighs a little wider, watching your mouth open a tiny bit as you inhale sharply. He’s already terribly hard, trying not to rut against your ass as he lets one hand dip between your legs, under your skirt, as the other one drifts up towards your chest, splayed out across your sternum to keep you in place.

He pushes your panties to the side, admiring the wetness he finds already there as he swipes his fingers along your seam. He tilts his head to the side, eager to watch your expression unburdened by his helmet as he pushes two fingers into you. 

Once he’s in your peripheral you close your eyes, leaving him to observe the way your mouth falls open as he gently slides his digits in and out, feeling you shift in his lap to grind against his palm. 

He’s fascinated by you, by the way you move in sync with him, with each movement of his hand you match it with a rock of your hips, or by arching your back.

“Din-” Your voice comes out as a high strangled cry that makes his cock ache against the fabric of his flight suit. 

“Go ahead, I wanna watch.” He mumbles as he presses his cheek to yours, staring down, mesmerized by the sight of you riding his fingers, his own mouth falling open as he feels your entire body tense up, feeling you clamp down on his fingers as you come. He keeps his fingers inside of you until your breathing evens out, once you come down from your orgasm he removes them, bringing them to his mouth as he uses his other hand to reach between the two of you, pulling his cock free. He stares down at the sight of himself against the pretty white fabric of your dress as he moans against his own fingers, stroking himself for a moment before popping his digits out of his mouth, grabbing your hips and lifting you a bit. 

He lets out a small groan as your hands reach down to line him up at your entrance, he lets go of your hips, letting you sink yourself down onto him, his hands wrapping around your thighs instead, squeezing the meat there with a pleased hum. 

You’re going at your own pace as he fights his own impatience, doing his best to not thrust up into you as he latches his mouth onto your shoulder, biting softly as you take nearly all of him, gasping his name the entire time. 

After another moment you’re fully sat in his lap, your breathing heavy as one of his hands moves from your thigh to your clit.

“Can you come again? Like this?” He rasps the words out against your skin, you nod as he begins to swirl his fingers in small precise circles, his moans match your own as he feels you slowly lift yourself off of him, your chest bouncing as you fuck yourself on him. 

Gods as his witness he’ll never wear his helmet again during sex. 

It’s just better to really see you like this, he can’t believe he deprives himself of this so often, the way your body trembles, the sounds you make, everything is simply better without the filters and the modulation. 

“Maker- Din!” Your strained plea snaps him out of his thoughts as he looks at your face, your eyes and nose scrunched up in frustration. “Please, fuck me, Din please.” You always sound so sweet, at this rate he’ll never be able to say no to you.  

He sits up a little to give himself more leverage, one arm wrapped around your waist to steady you, his other hand reaching behind himself to prop himself up as he thrusts up into you. His hips snapping up as he grits his teeth, a growl forming in his throat. He keeps you there for a bit, keeping up a brutal pace as he lets gravity do most of the work, bouncing you on his length, eventually relaxing after feeling your legs give out from under you. He sits back up on his knees, steadying you with both bands now, keeping you impaled on his cock as he leans forward, kissing up the column of your throat.    

“Kiss me, please.” He murmurs against your jaw, desperate for more of you as he lets out a low whine, wishing you would just look at him.

Your eyes shut as you turn your head to kiss him, he brings one hand up to your face, his other still on your stomach as he groans, rocking his hips upwards again. 

“You can look.” He pants, holding his forehead to yours as he stares at your face, contorted in pleasure as he pushes himself deeper into you, watching the way your eyes flutter a bit, never actually opening.

“I- I can’t.” You gasp out as he fucks up into you, short shallow thrusts, relishing in the way you take him, squeezing his cock with every rock of his hips, the way your face looks as he leans in for another kiss, quick and chaste, a sharp juxtaposition to how he’s fucking you, only pulling out in the slightest before slamming back into you. 

“You can, I want you to.” His voice is ragged and desperate at this point. 

“I will, just, not tonight.” 

“Ni vercopaanir gar Ru'kel haa'taylir.” I wish you would look. 

“I will, Din- I promise I will.” He’s sure you didn’t learn enough to know what he said but he’s still satisfied with that answer.

“Okay.” He kisses you again, swallowing your moans as he picks up the pace, pulling you down onto him as he rocks his hips upwards. He manipulates your body like it’s nothing, his hands holding you tightly enough to keep you upright as he continues to slam himself into you, you’re soaking his cock at this point as he muffles his grunts with your mouth. He knows you’re both nearly there, with the way your words become nonsensical. He turns his head to whisper into your ear. “Come for me, sarad.” He groans, his mouth falling open as a slew of filthy noises fall past his lips he feels you pulse around him, he frantically goes to pull out but you shake your head no, slamming your hips back against his and riding out your orgasm he watches you mumble, barely coherently. 

“In- Inside, Din.” 

You don’t have to tell him twice. You give him the sweetest cry as he bites down on your shoulder, he growls against your flesh as he releases the fire pooling in his stomach. 

“Bid jate- bid jate par ni.” So good for me. He mumbles against your shoulder.

He fucks his cum deeper into you with a few more sloppy thrusts before sitting back on his heels, staring at the ceiling as his chest heaves, letting you rest back against him as you go limp in his arms. 

Once he’s caught his breath he leans back, keeping himself inside you as he kicks his legs out. He swallows, still a little unsteady as you sit up, one of his hands wanders to you back, drawing a star there with one of his fingers. 

“Are you okay?” He whispers softly just before you lay back on top of him.

“Why do you do that?” He doesn’t stop you this time as you reach over and turn the lamp off, taking his hands and guiding him to turn the both of you onto your sides as his erection softens inside of you. 

“Do what?” He blinks, adjusting his eyes to the darkness and biting back a groan as you adjust yourself to put your hips flush with his.

“You switch languages, usually when you’re near the end, or when you say something kind.”

Oh.

He’s never really thought about that. 

“How did you know what I said?” He brushes a bit of hair behind your ear as he runs his hand down and up your spine slowly. 

“I asked my question first.”

“Fair enough. I guess it just happens, I’ve never really thought about why. I suppose it’s just another layer of armor, another way to conceal things.” You don’t respond, presumably thinking over his response. “Your turn, how did you know what I said?”

“I guessed.” Smart girl. 

“Of course you did.” He places a kiss against the back of your neck before resting the bridge of his nose there. “Do you wanna sleep like this?” He rocks his hips a bit to accentuate his point, drawing a gasp from you. 

“Yes, please.” You whisper back.

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” He smiles before closing his eyes, wrapping his arms around you, the last thing he feels before falling asleep is you intertwining your fingers with his. 

☆

He wakes up before you, careful to leave you undisturbed as he reaches over to turn on the lamp, happy to just watch you for a few more minutes before he leaves. Watching the rise and fall of your chest. After a moment he realizes he slipped out of you while he slept.

He’s in no rush but he knows the moment you wake he’ll have to go so he stays still for a while, enjoying the morning quiet until your eyes slowly open, and you stretch your arms with a groan. 

“Good morning, sarad.” He says softly, kissing your shoulder as you shudder at the sensation. 

“You’re leaving.” You whisper to him.

“I am.” 

Much to his surprise you turn to face him, of course he realizes a second too late that your eyes are closed. 

“Be safe.” You murmur, taking his face in your hands before kissing him. Maybe this will be a happy morning despite his worries about going. 

“Always.” He gives you another kiss before sitting up, dressing himself quickly, looking over at you every so often only to find that your eyes are closed until you hear the soft hiss of his helmet. 

“I’m serious, you better be careful.” You sit up and face him as he kneels beside you.

“I will, I promise.” He holds your face in one hand. “Goodbye, sarad’ika.” You give him a radiant smile. 

“Ret'urcye mhi, cyare.” Goodbye, beloved. That’s what you’d been learning yesterday. He’s a little taken aback by the sound of those words leaving your mouth, his own smile forming. 

“Jate bora” Good job. 

He doesn’t tell you how poorly you pronounced each of those words, too infatuated to care as he leans down, lifting his helmet enough to kiss your forehead. 

“I’ll be back in a few days, okay?”

“Okay.” 

He uses his free hand to gently grab your chin, giving you one last kiss.

“I’ll see you soon.” Once he’s shut the closet door he slips the fail safe box under your bed. 

And just like that he’s out the door, on his way to the nearest shipyard. 

☆

It goes surprisingly smoothly. 

He’s only gone for about four days, he gets lucky as far as transportation goes, managing to catch a cargo ship going directly to the planet he’s looking for. He doesn’t recognize it and in all honesty he isn’t sure he’s ever been there but he finds the convert easily enough.

It took a bit of convincing but he got what he needed from the armorer and just like that he was catching a ship back to you with two rings attached to a thin chain around his neck. 

He’s eager to see you immediately after landing but he’s filthy from the trip so he goes to the cabin first, shedding his armor and clothes before stepping into the fresher. He’d be lying if he said that he hadn’t started taking care of himself more after meeting you. 

He’d avoided mirrors all together until you. 

He’d shave when his beard got unmanageable. He’d cut his hair when it stuck out the back of his helmet. And that was it. 

And then you came along and suddenly he was staring at himself in the dingy mirror he’s in front of now. The first day he realized he wanted to impress you he spent hours in the cabin fresher, trying to even out his facial hair, and give himself something that resembled a respectable haircut. He needs another one soon, staring at himself now he knows he’ll need to shave before he sees you but he can probably go a few more weeks without a haircut. 

He’s pretty sure you like his hair long, even if you’ve never seen it, that’s the only reason he hasn’t just buzzed it all, the way he’d normally do it. You’re always touching it. 

So he cleans up his beard before stepping into the shower, he’s in a hurry, scrubbing away the days of travel and grime. He finds a clean flightsuit and dons his armor as quickly as possible, his hair is still wet when he puts the helmet back on. 

He makes a beeline towards the castle as the sun sets, the promise of you drives him forward despite his exhaustion. 

He checks the library first, finding the nook to be empty. He goes to your chambers, if his count is correct you would have had dinner with Kodo yesterday, so if you aren’t reading you should be in your room. He’s pleased to see a nervous looking Leo outside your door, his eyes go wide as Din approaches. 

He stops a few inches away from Leodall, looming over him. 

“Everything went smoothly?” His voice is low and husky. His professional voice. 

“Yes, of course.” He’s pretty sure Leo is too scared of him to lie so he gives him a curt nod of approval. 

“Then you’re dismissed, thank you.” He really is thankful, despite his dislike for the twi’lek. He watches him scurry away before hastily pushing your door open, stepping inside to find you there. 

You’re laying on your stomach, a book laid out on the bed in front of you. A look of anger crosses your face when you look up, assuming you’d find Leo in the doorway but once you see him you’re sitting up, rushing over to him and wrapping your arms around him. 

“I missed you.” You mumble against his chest plate as he returns your embrace.

“It was only a few days.” He laughs softly as you look up at him. He’s just happy to be with you again. 

“That doesn’t mean anything, I still missed you.” With the way you’re looking at him it’s a wonder he doesn’t get on one knee right now. 

Instead he can’t help it as he yawns, he’d been in such a rush to return to you he’d barely slept during his trip.

“Are you tired?” Your brows furrow in concern as he shakes his head no. 

“No, I’m fine, I’m just happy to see you.” He’s about to lift his helmet to kiss you, but you frown and pull him towards the closet. He isn’t entirely sure he’s going to be able to properly fuck you in this state but he’ll make it work. As you shut the door he starts taking off his armor and you turn to help him, carefully removing each piece until he’s in just his flight suit and helmet. You gently put your hands on his shoulders, pushing him down to the floor before kneeling beside him. He puts his hands on your waist and is a little surprised when you tenderly pull them away. 

“Lay on your stomach.” You tilt your head to the side and he’s about to argue but you click your tongue and point at the blankets. “I let you disappear for a few days with no questions, you owe me, now lay down. And take off your flight suit.” 

With a reluctant groan he does as he’s told, sliding his flight suit down to his waist, his confusion only growing as you straddle his back. His bewilderment vanishes though as he feels your hands kneading his shoulders. He’s about to flip himself over and tell you he’s fine but as he opens his mouth to complain you dig the heel of your palm into his back and instead a moan slips out. 

He doesn’t make much of a fuss after that, letting you methodically take care of the many knots and tense spots across his back. 

He turns his head to the side, closing his eyes as you hum a song to yourself, caressing and kneading every inch of visible skin until you’re satisfied. He feels you lean down, planting a kiss along his spine before climbing off of him and laying down beside him, he sits up with another rather embarrassing moan. He’s trying to flip you over to do you as you laugh, pulling him back down to lay with you. 

“You need sleep.” You once again catch him off guard as he feels your fingers on the helmet release, the kiss of air accompanied by the click of the lamp as you remove his helmet, kissing his forehead. 

“I missed you too.” He whispers into the darkness, realizing he hasn’t said it yet.

“I know you did, now get some sleep.” You pull his head down against your chest, squeezing his shoulder as you do. He really is exhausted, he hadn’t realized until he was reunited with you that he doesn’t sleep as well without you. 

“I love you.” He sleepily mumbles against your chest. 

No one takes care of him the way you do. Your soft hands continue to rub his back as he succumbs to sleep. 

“I love you too.” He feels another kiss on his forehead as he exhales the last of his energy. 

If he wasn’t so tired he probably would have proposed right then and there. 

☆

Having the rings has made him a mess.

Anytime you do anything he just wants to ask. When you’d kissed him this morning, when you’d walked out of your room in a green dress grinning at him like you’d done it just for him, when you’d handed him the speeder maintenance book from before because you just knew he hadn’t read it last time. 

And right now, as you read like you always do, sitting beside him. 

Now more than ever he wants to ask. 

He had wanted so badly for it to be special. 

He was thinking of maybe doing it in the gardens some night, where he had kissed you for the first time. But you look exactly how he always wants you to look right now. 

Your face buried in a romance book with a smile dancing on your lips. 

Tucked away in the nook, safe from the world. 

“How much of the Mando’a book did you end up reading?” He plays with the edge of the page he’s on now, he’s been pretending to read again, unable to pull his focus from you. 

“The translation book? Not a lot.” He watches as you turn to give him a smile. 

“Do you know what riduur means?” He knows you don’t, but he can’t stop himself from saying it. 

“No, I don't think I learned that.” You close your book, staring at him curiously. 

“It means partner, or spouse.” 

“Oh. Okay…” Your eyes get a little bigger once he says that. 

He gives you a nod before looking back down at his own book, silently cursing himself out for not going through with it. He hadn’t realized that having rings made would make him fall apart every time he’s in your presence. 

You’re just so… perfect. Do you have to be so perfect? You learn his language and you respect him and you love him and you’re endlessly sweet. 

He just wants to keep you like this forever.

Safe and happy. 

That’s why he can’t help himself as he sets his book down, he fidgets with his helmet for a moment before turning off the modulator, he wants you to hear his voice without the filter, sitting up, he cradles your face in his hands. 

“Can I ask you something?” He whispers.  

I am no longer doing taglists so follow @lincolndjarinnotifs and turn on notifications to be notified when new chapters are posted !!

[hellishjoel]

let the light in

8.8k / pairing: dbf/neighbor joel miller x f!reader

hellishjoel masterlist | notifications blog | cinnamon girl masterlist

summary: Joel takes you on your first proper date, but there’s trouble in Houston. 

warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), NO OUTBREAK, dbf/neighbor!joel, age gap (reader is in their early 20’s while Joel is in his 40’s), cursing, use of pet names (kitten, angel, baby girl, etc.), daddy kink, unprotected p in v, a lil praise kink, a slight Table for Two crossover if you squint, daddy issues, Joel smoking cigarettes

A/N: the one time I was actually ON TIME to finish a Cinnamon Girl chapter, and I get slapped with covid - but here it is a week late! thank you to @saradika-graphics for the banners <3

Light leaks through the tattered curtains, slipping through the seams and highlighting Joel’s cheekbone. 

It almost scares you. Like you’re not in the safety of the motel room but rather in his bed or in your own at the summer cabin. Like your parents or Sarah could walk in at any moment and see you curled into Joel’s side, both naked from the waist down. It’s like a nightmare, your heart rate startling you awake. 

Your shoulders bunch as you recollect air to your lungs and settle, hazy vision settling on the motel room. Joel is sound asleep, a large lumberjack with large breaths in and large breaths out. You can’t help but watch him. He looks peaceful. Sound asleep, untouched by the problems of the outside works. 

Being this close to him feels odd. It still feels like you’re not supposed to be here, this damn close. In fact, you’re supposed to be at least fifteen feet from him, hiding. But you don’t have to hide, not here. There are no skeptical eyes, no nosey neighbors or parents. You can hold his hand, smile at him with real meaning, and sleep beside him. Enjoy pleasure with him. 

A sigh leaves your lips, and you gently rest your forehead against his toned shoulder. He’s warm. A furnace, really. Your eyes flutter closed, lulling you into slumber once more. The next time you wake, your arms are locked around his waist in a tight bear hug. Your head had found a place of safety against his side and tucked into his armpit. You were curled up in a ball, a strong hand skimming up and down your back peacefully. 

That pesky feeling surges you awake again, like you’re not supposed to be here. You shoot up with a bit more gust, your speeding heart rate sending you up again as your eyelashes flutter in panic. 

“Shhh,” a gentle, low voice hums. 

It’s not enough to calm you yet, your stomach lurches as you’re tiredly sitting up and pushing away from the safety you were once encapsulated in. 

“Joel,” you whisper with concern, feeling your shoulders lock up, sitting exhaustedly up on your elbows. You take in your surroundings, the old mini fridge and the aging television speckled with dust. Your backpack and Joel’s duffel bag on the spare bed. The pounding in your chest halts, falling weakly into his awaiting arms once more. 

“I’m sorry, I thought,” your speech falters, not able to string together a hazy thought. 

“I know,” Joel whispers, allowing you to rest beside him once more. You frown as you lay your cheek against his pec, finding comfort in twirling your finger around his longer chest hair. 

A comforting silence relaxes the two of you, the daylight casting more warmth into the room, and now it was highlighting a fuzzy rectangle along his abdomen. You trace the shape, humming softly as you turn your head and rest your chin on his chest, smiling softly at the sight of his messy hair. 

“You look like you slept well.” You tease, pushing your fingers through his faded dark hair, trying to relax the messy, knotted locks. His hand reaches for yours, interlocking your fingers gently. 

“You look like you just woke up from a nightmare.” 

Your smile falters, only now taking in that he saw you in a panic waking up beside him. 

“It wasn’t about you. This,” You clarify, soft eyes meeting his chocolate ones. “I’m not used to being with you. Just you.” 

Joel rests your clasped hands over his chest. You can feel his delicate heartbeat. 

“I know. S’okay.” 

You usually hate when he talks so little, a deadbolted door or a bank safe with his thoughts. But hearing his limited reassurance was actually soothing. No over-explanation is needed. 

“But it’s nice?” You ask curiously, bringing his calloused hand gently to your lips, leaving soft kisses in your wake along brandished knuckles. 

Joel’s lips quirk up in a fatigued smile.”S’more than nice. I haven’t slept that good in ages.” 

You roll your eyes playfully and sit up on your knees at his side, still holding his hand as you gently squeeze. “It’s the sex that got you to sleep so soundly, wasn’t it?” You ask with a smirk, gently biting down on the plush of your lower lip. 

Now with you sat up fully, Joel’s tired eyes linger on your taut nipples making peaks under your pajama shirt. He tuts tiredly and sits up on his elbows, releasing your hand to lock around the outside of your thigh, guiding it over his lap and allowing you to straddle him.

“Wasn’t the sex. Was you.” 

A shiver travels up your back, pursing your lips to dial down your growing smile, pressing your hips further down into his, and letting your ass lightly grind down into his morning wood. 

“You sure about that, cowboy?” You hum, taking his hand and guiding it up to your neck, weakly winding his fingers around the expanse of your throat. You hum, letting him feel the vibration. He likes it, you can tell by the way his fingers twitch just a smidge tighter and the way he swells against your core.  You drag him by his wrist lower, between the valley of your breasts, feeling the slopes even over your baggy short-sleeve tee.  

“Guide me.” You whisper, settling his hand to tighten around your hip as you continue to roll them at an agonizingly slow pace. “Guide me, Joel. However you want.” 

Joel’s eyes noticeably darken despite the light beginning to pierce the room. Something twitches behind his jaw, and the all-too-familiar feeling in your stomach ignites at his gaze. 

A wet spot sprouts between your legs, and you silently pat yourself on the back for not putting on the one last sacred pair of panties you had packed. You whimper weakly and let your eyes drift closed, settling both of your hands on the tops of his thighs. You’re now blindly aware that both of you abandoned wearing any sort of undergarments to bed. Thank god, you think. 

Joel grunts quietly as his hands tighten on your hips. You two are damn near perfectly centered because his cock is swelling perfectly between your wet folds. He’s impossible to ignore. 

You’re nipping at your bottom lip, throwing your head back in quiet bliss, arching your back, feeling your hair fan out as your nails dig into Joel’s meaty thighs. 

Joel’s persistent, patient, insisting on watching you crumble. You’re weak for him, heat creeping up your spine and growing tacky against your temples. 

“Guide me, Daddy.” Your hips twitch faster at the name, it slipped without you even thinking. But you didn’t regret it. Frankly, you liked it. But was it weird to him? 

You gulp and sit up properly, your hips slowing to a halt. “Joel, I-” 

“I didn’t say t’stop.” His chest rumbles, eyes piercing yours. 

Goosebumps blew across your skin like a cold breeze had settled in, lips parting in surprise. His voice was guttural, deep, sending a spark to your core. 

“I’m sorry,” you move to start again, but his large palms grip your ass, pausing your movements and making you whimper. You needed the friction, you needed him. 

“You’re sorry, what?” He probes, feeling a heat spread across your chest and down into your stomach. 

“I’m sorry… Daddy.” You whisper with a coy smile, moving your hands to his chest and forcing him to fall back into the bed, off his forearms. “Let me make it up to you.” 

Joel’s smirk is sick and twisted, a masterpiece. It thrills you like a rollercoaster drifting down, sending a lightning strike to your core and making you sticky with arousal, coating his dick in the process. A shaky breath leaves your parted lips, using the leverage of your one hand on his chest while the other fishes for his dick between his thighs. You wrap your hand around him and shuffle it up and down his length, feeling him fatten in your hand and leak drops of precum. 

Joel grumbles at the feeling, watching as his chest rose and fell at a quicker rate with the attention. He’s so sexy being handled by you. You can feel his thighs twitching below your own, little grunts of pleasure leaving his rosy lips. 

“You wanna ride me, princess?” He asks, coffee-colored orbs glowing with need. 

You pause for a moment, eyes landing on his with hesitation. You push down your nerves and swallow, lining his tip up to your entrance and feeling his tip slowly sink in. You flinch over his lap again, a little inexperienced with being on top. It just doesn’t quite feel right, and you don’t want to hurt him. 

A huff leaves your impatient lips, trying again to line him up, but he still doesn’t catch. You roll your eyes at yourself, cursing under your breath. How the fuck do you get it in from up here? You want to ride a dick, not solve a Rubix cube. Now, your arm was shaking from holding you up for so long, making you a bit unsteady. Frustration festered in your blood, jaw clenched as Joel watched you patiently. 

Joel’s trying not to snicker. It’s not you exactly that’s making him laugh, but your continued lack of wanting any sort of help. “Can I?” 

“No.” You say a little too fast, eyes meeting his surprised ones after a moment. “Sorry, but no, I’ve got it. Just- just give me a minute.” 

Joel cocked his eyebrow and watched with satisfaction as you tried over and over again to sit on his dick. He clasped his hands behind his head, biceps bulging at either side of his head. 

Your head was so fuzzy with need that your fidgeting hands kept losing the perfect angle for him to slip inside. You grunted in annoyance, having to take a break as you planted both hands on his chest again. Sweat clustered at the backside of your neck, shyly catching a glance at him. Cocky son of a bitch. Just watching you with a smile. 

“I offered t’help, darlin’.” He said with a light shrug, making you whimper quietly. 

“But I wanted to do it on my own.” 

Joel’s hands unwind from behind his head, guiding them to your back and gently adding pressure to allow you to rest over his front. 

“I know ya did, baby girl. Let Daddy help you.” 

You whimper but nod with a soft pout, feeling his calloused and rough palms coast lower to the flesh of your ass. You moan quietly and drift your eyes closed, nose nustling against his chest hair for comfort. 

“Your problem is always that y’not relaxed enough. Y’hold too much pressure on yourself to be perfect all the damn time.” You hide your frown, feeling unveiled to him once again. Vulnerable. Joel had a knack for always knowing what was going on in your head, even when you didn’t. “Breathe in, kitten.” 

Your eyelashes flutter, but you did as he asked, taking in a deep breath. His hand fists the base of his cock, guiding himself up and down your wet center. Just as you weren’t anticipating him, his tip nudged into your entrance, making you gasp. 

“Shh, shh,” he whispers again, his other hand lightly fisting your hair and swiping it off your shoulder and out of his way. You whine as you slowly sink over him. 

Reminded of his words, you took a few more deep breaths and allowed him to enter you fully. All the air left your weak lungs, broken mewls for more left your parted lips, and fanned hot breaths across his chest. 

Your head drops in defeat, forehead to his warm neck. “I’ve only done this like... once. It probably doesn’t even count, the guy came before I even got to ride him.” You bite back a smile as you peek your head up, feeling his abdomen contort under you, an effect of your walls tightening around him. 

Joel slowly nodded, jaw tight, eyes still as dark as night. “S’cause you were fuckin’ around with boys. Daddy’s here now. I’ll guide ya.” He assures, wrapping his large hands around your wrists and setting you up once again to lean on his chest. 

You sit up with newfound confidence, and he guides your body just like he prefers. 

“Which feels better,” he starts to ask as you sit up properly. You can feel every damn inch of Joel, but you’re attempting to focus on him, and not his dick piercing the air from your chest. You feel his hands on your calves, gently tapping. 

“You wanna roll your hips, bounce forward a little, keeping your hands here? Or,” he pauses again and guides your feet to settle in at his sides instead of your calves, putting your hands on his upper thighs again. Shit. This one you felt a little less confident in, less able to control your body. And the last thing you wanted was to fall off. 

Joel watches as you shake your head with a shy little smile. He observes you bring your hands back to his chest, planting them on his pecs. Your small little hands were adorable on the large planes of his upper half. 

Like this? You silently ask with your eyes. 

He nods, watching you move back down onto your calves. 

“You ready?” He asks, putting his own hands on your hips. 

Reassurance floods through his palms, and you give him another tight nod. He was swelled inside of you, whimpering weakly as you slowly leaned forward, following the nervous lump in your throat. You slowly push back, and he fills you again. You moan for him, telling him with little to no words how perfect he feels inside of you. 

You keep your pace, back and forth, using the leverage from your hands on his chest as he watches you in blissed-out amazement. He starts to grunt quietly with each of your bounces. You find a pace that suits you. Joel’s hands teach you how to roll your hips, not just bounce, and it lulls you into a haze. It feels like heaven. 

“Christ,” he mutters, groaning as your walls squeeze him. “Fuck me so good, pretty girl. Faster, now.” 

Your head lifts up weakly at his demands, whimpering loudly as your fingernails etch moon-shaped dents into his flesh. But you do as he says because you like when he calls you his pretty girl. His obedient girl. 

With a flush of heat flooding through your core, you sit up and continue bouncing, feeling your ass clap against the tops of his thighs. You take his hands off your hips and interlock them, whimpering loudly as you continue to ride his cock. He’s pulsing inside of you, being gushed with your arousal. You loved holding his hands, it was comforting, calmed your rattling nerves. 

“God fucking- Christ, Daddy, please,” you whimper out, jaw slack as you feel every vein in his cock, even his slight curve that had you mewling for more as he buried himself inside of you to the hilt. 

“That’s it, pretty girl, so good for Daddy, look so fuckin’ hot on top.” He smirks, making your head swirl.  You can’t help but expel desperate moans at his praise, feeling your head spin as your euphoria threatens the seams of your vision. Everything was a haze. You only knew to keep moving, keep satisfying each other. 

“Fuck-fuck-fuck,” you say with each bounce, your body keeping this faster pace as you clench desperately around him. He was so deep, kissing your cervix with each thrust and making your stomach twist. 

Joel was in awe. Couldn’t believe he had such a beautiful girl hopping in his lap first thing in the morning. This newfound confidence suits you, he thinks. His hands lose yours, but only for a moment, fed up with seeing your breasts jump under your shirt. He needs to see you bare, perfectly nude, for his liking.  

You aid off the material and quickly fling it aside, pausing for a breath to grind down against him, coating his balls in your wetness. The large expanse of Joel’s palms coasts up your stomach and to your breasts, squeezing and kneading at the pretty mounds. He pinches your nipples between his thumbs and forefinger, watching them get their color hot with attention. You whine at the harshness, but god, do you love it. It made you all the more sensitive, feeling your clit tingle with need. You were breathless now, panting his name in a dizzy heat. 

“Feels so good, Daddy,” you gulp, pausing your movements for a moment. 

“Getting tired, princess?” Joel asks, watching his girl grow winded at her first time riding. It was sweet, really. Just seeing her try was enough for him. 

You slowly smirk and shake your head slowly, continuing to grind your core against his. Your clit catches friction from his pubic hairs, whining like a needy brat. 

“I’m gonna make you cum like this, Daddy. Just wait.” You take a deep breath and start again, taking his hands in yours as you start bouncing once more.

Joel plants his feet into the bed, finding the new position a little easier to let you glide up and down his dick, even meeting your thrusts when you let him. He grunts, feeling a sheen of sweat glisten across his brow. His jaw tightens, eyes narrowing as he feels his orgasm approach. 

He instinctively reaches his hand forward, large thumb finding your swollen clit. It’s enough to make your hips twitch at the contact, hinting at the desperation of your own finish. He begins to circle you, making your jaw drop. It was a lot, all of it, perfectly too much. You were self-indulging yourself with Joel’s fat cock. 

“That’s it, princess, finish on my dick like a good girl, Daddy wants to see you come.” Joel’s own stomach couldn’t help but feel the high coursing through his veins, grunting as your pretty ass clapped loudly against his thighs, the sound echoing inside the room and back into his ears. 

You couldn’t hold on anymore; your head grew fuzzy, and your eyes began to see stars. This orgasm felt so different from any others, the build-up was enough to make your heart pump hard in your ears. 

Crying out weakly, you shift your hips faster, weakly grinding as you come undone over his cock. Your head hung low, shuddering your back and shoulders as you felt Joel pump rope after rope of white hot cum inside of you. He paints your walls in his name, marking you as his, finishing with grunts of your pretty little name on his lips. 

Collapsing on his chest, you let him stuff you. 

“Fuck, baby girl,” Joel said breathily, eyes closed, chest rising quickly as he regained his strength. You couldn’t care less about the mess between your thighs. You loved this feeling. Joel kept his warm cum stuffed inside of you, feeling it weakly leak whenever you shifted. You sponged kisses across his damp chest, smirking hellishly when you saw the effect you had on him. 

He scoffs at your goading face, weakly running his thumb across the rich color of your lower lip. 

“Told ya you could do it.” You giggle softly and press a delicate kiss to his chin, then his lips. “Thanks for the help.” You finally muster up, feeling him press another kiss to your lips. 

“Course, angel.” 

Sex in the morning was like a sugar rush. It filled you with energy. Joel couldn’t really relate. 

Getting him out of bed was damn near impossible. You were jumping off the walls, asking what today’s plans were, if he was hungry like you were, and if you could get up to shower together. Meanwhile, he just laid there and sort of… groaned. He barely let you get up, content with letting his softened cock stay inside you for eternity. 

You did manage to pester him enough to take a shower, noting that he smelled of cum and sex, to which he replied,  “Well… yeah.”

You munched on a Pop-Tart as Joel finished getting dressed, a dark pair of jeans and a navy blue t-shirt with a breast pocket, where he tucked his glasses and a pencil. You held back a snicker, thinking about how cute he was. 

“Are those glasses for spotting birds?”

He took the Pop-Tart out of your mouth so fast, making you whine in annoyance. “Enough with the damn bird jokes.” He said before taking a bite and handing the dry pastry back to you. 

“Ahh-howe.” You mutter, the dry crumbs making your words a bit muffled. 

Joel gathers a few papers from his bag, they look like etched-out designs. You crane your head to watch him, listening to him mutter to himself what he needs to get today. He explains in the truck that he found a supplier in the East part of Houston, wanting to choose someone local rather than online. He was looking for cathedral-stained glass, something transparent compared to opalescent or wispy. He had specific colors and textures in mind, it was all here on his scattered papers. Your fingers follow the smooth lines of graphite, smiling lightly at the design Joel had put so much time into and got approved by the church. 

“So.. you already have all the tools for this?” 

Joel hums and takes a left-hand turn down a small street. “They’ll have a glass cutter there for me, but I’ve got the rest back home at the tool shed. Grinder, soldering iron, solder, flux, the pattern template.”

“Well, what about gloves? Don’t want you to get cut.”

He scoffs playfully, biting down a smile. “Got those too, baby. Don’t have to worry about me.” 

You suck in the side of your cheek and look out the window, hiding your shy face. Of course you worried about him. The last thing you needed was to see Joel with a nicked-up hand running out of his woodshed. 

Joel parks in a small driveway by a sign labeled Lighthouse Glass. You shove your hands in your pockets and follow him through the front door. A bell gently chimes above you, alerting the workers to your entrance. 

The store is just filled. Stained glass lamps, panels, different art designs, and glass cases filled with the pricier pieces. The selection is wide and also included tools a glazier might need. Joel taught you that word in the truck, he was a stained glass glazier in training. 

The far wall was all shelving of various sizes, with smaller cubbies for small to medium-sized stained glass pieces and larger slots for the big, rectangular-sized ones. They were color-coded, too, starting with different shades of blue until they filtered across the rainbow to bright red slices. Small squares showed different samples for inspiration, you found a beautiful aquamarine one that looked beautiful in the summer light. The room was a rainbow hue because of all the art hanging up in the window. Everything sparkled. 

An older woman comes out from a back hallway with worn-in wrinkles at her eyes and a passionate smile. She wore long sleeves and jeans under a smock. Her hair was tied back, and a patterned headband wrapped around her strawberry-blonde hairline. 

“Joel?” She asks, to which Joel shoves out his hand from his jeans. 

“Nice to meet ya.” He cranes his head to you, jutting his chin out as a silent way of telling you to move up. “This is my assistant for the day.” 

“Oh,” she cooes with a kind smile, shaking your hand as well. “Nice to meet you both! We’ve been expecting you. Well, this is the showroom,” she extends out her hands to explain, walking through the aisles as you and Joel followed suit. 

This reminded you of antique shopping with your mother when you were younger. She scorned you not to touch anything. If you break it, you buy it. So you kept your hands to yourself, watching Joel’s boots as you kept your head low. 

It was a very creative atmosphere, to say the least. There were a few customers further inside the store, by the cutting and customization counter. Everyone was here for something a little different, but who else was working on a giant church mural like Joel was? 

He unrolled his planning maps to the woman, the name Jo etched on her nametag. She said you had the prettiest eyes she had ever seen and even pulled out a small stained glass square that matched the hue perfectly just from the top of her head. You smiled at the little piece she had given you that you held in your lap, fingers gently feeling up and down the opalescent stained glass. It had a few different shades, it looked like a Monet painting. 

Joel glanced over to the piece you held affectionately in your lap, smiling softly at the sight. You had a thing for trinkets, the small things. You lift your head, and Joel swiftly drifts his gaze, clearing his throat as he watches Jo examine his maps. Under the surface of the table, you gently curl your finger around Joel’s pointer. Your thumb gently swipes back and forth across his knuckle, butterflies cascading through your chest as he squeezes your finger affectionately. 

“Joel, you’re sure you’re an amateur at this? This is impressive work.” Her compliment made Joel grow a little rosy in the apples of his cheeks. “Everything you have drawn up is achievable. We can start picking out the colors and have them shipped either straight to your home or to the work site. Whatever you prefer.” 

As good as Joel is at drawing up the plans, he is terrible at colors. You and Jo worked as a team for another hour, finding the right colors that complemented the artwork as a whole. Joel somehow kept choosing very clashing pieces, but you just patted him on his arm and said this was a certain science, one that you had a rather good eye for. 

Jo was checking Joel out at the register, paying using one of the city’s cards since they were the ones funding the project. You had a hard time leaving the section filled with brown stained glass pieces. They were the bunch with the most supplies, everyone picking out the vibrant purples or the classy reds, but never the browns. They were nearly untouched, many covered with dust, each panel hidden behind another. You find a certain beauty in them, your fingers dancing along their edge. Chesnut, hazel, a beautiful amber, coffee to caramel, deep mahogany, sweet cocoa, auburn, and a tawny taupe. 

You were torn between burnt mahogany and mahogany brown. The first was a little too purple. Mahogany brown matched Joel’s eyes to a tee. You picked up one of the smaller sample squares and rolled it around in your hand, twisting your lips at the pretty piece. After Joel had preordered all of his cuts and colors, you set your two small squares on the counter. One for your eyes, and one for Joel’s. 

“These too, please.” 

Joel tilted his head curiously, eyes narrowing on your small hands fidgeting protectively over the two small stained glass sample squares. Jo packaged them up carefully for you and handed them over the counter in a small paper bag. 

“Thank you two for your business! Joel, if you need anything, the card for the shop is stapled to your receipt. Feel free to email us pictures of the final piece! We haven’t had anyone do such a large mural. Have a great day.” 

“Thank you, ma’am. Appreciate all your instruction.” He tips his head in typical Southern fashion and walks you out the door. 

Joel eyes the brown paper bag once you’re both returned to his truck. You immediately open it up and let the mahogany square glisten in the late afternoon light. You lay your forehead against the warm window, humming as you gently squeeze it in your palm. 

“Whatcha plannin’ on doin’ with that, buttercup?” He asks, securing his seatbelt. 

You angle your back to the truck door, holding up the square and squinting one eye closed, comparing the glass to the color of Joel’s beautiful eyes. 

“I don’t know yet. But it’s a perfect match.” You whisper as you move closer to him, over the center console as you hold the square beside his temple. His eyes glistened magnificently, but shied away from all the attention you were giving him. He gently shrugs you off and shakes his head. 

“Jus’ don’t cut yourself.” He pauses as he reverses out of the small driveway. “Besides, like the other square better.” He juts up his chin, motioning towards the paper bag. You dig out the other square, the one that resembles your eyes, placing them side by side in your palm. The light bounces off the glass, a harmonious balance between them. Joel’s warmth and comfort, yours strong and vibrant. They complimented one another. You cherished their likeness despite not being the exact same. Carved with love and care. A hobby of Joel’s, now sprinkled with pieces of you. 

You placed them gently back into the bag and secured them in the back of his truck, tucking them in carefully around a spare blanket. 

Joel worked up a hunger and drove you to a diner named Tommy’s Drive-In. It was quite barren, but again, you thrived being perfectly alone with Joel. You didn’t need much, you just liked being in his presence. And you assumed he, yours.  

The waitresses were wearing old fifty-style uniforms, the kind that looked like a dress with little white sneakers. The old maroon leather booths were warmed up by the sun shining through the windows, and you gently slurped up the soda you were given through your straw. 

“What’ll we do now that our big mission of this entire trip is done? Still have the afternoon. And Sunday morning.” You ask as your finger swipes slowly down the menu, reading the different options from salads to sliders. 

Joel is mysteriously quiet. You narrow your eyes on him and gently kick his shin under the table. His head whips up as he grunts, protectively gripping the area you had probably bruised on his knee.  

“Jesus- what the hell,” he gripes, jaw tight as he bore holes into your pretty little face. 

“What are you hiding?” You probe, to which he freezes. After a moment of silence, he sighs and sits up straight, eyes back to the menu. 

“Not hidin’ nothin’.” 

Your eyes narrow on him and his strangely shielded behavior. 

“I’m gonna find up what you’re up to.” 

“Mushroom Swiss burger looks good.” He derails, making you huff. 

Once you both were served your meals, Joel’s mushroom swiss with onion rings and your cheeseburger with fries, he couldn’t help but let out a quiet chuckle after you put in an order for a vanilla milkshake.

“What?” You ask, crossing your arms as you lean back in the booth. 

He shakes his head, soft smile silently admiring you.

“Y’do this little… happy dance once ya eat. When you’re hungry, ya sigh a lot and get real quiet. Tap your foot a lot when you’re real hungry. But then when you’re full, ya just..” Joel tries to mimic you, slowly swaying his body back and forth and shimmying his shoulders. You scoff and toss a spare fry at his chest. 

“I do not look like that!”

Joel only chuckles and eats the fry, shaking his head again with that gentle smile. One that he seems to only share with you. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout it. S’cute.” 

The compliment makes you pick up heat in your neck and face, looking down at your milkshake once it’s served to you. It’s served with a swirl of whipped cream and two cherries. You hum in excitement, absentmindedly doing a little shimmy as you pick up a cherry. It glistens a pretty reddish maroon in the light, splashed with a little whipped cream. You extend it out to Joel, and he looks at you dubiously. Finally, he leans forward, bares his teeth a little, and plucks the cherry from its stem. It stains his lips and tongue, his mahogany eyes on yours. 

His large fingers reach over for the remaining cherry, stealing it from your milkshake and offering it to you. No eyes to hide from, no reason not to be affectionate. If only you could live in this state of bliss forever. 

You part your lips and wrap your mouth around the cherry, only needing a little tug to release the fruit from its stem. Joel gives you an approving nod, feeling it gush sweetness between your teeth. You stick out your cherry-colored tongue, and Joel does the same, eliciting a giggle from you. 

“Share it with me?” You ask as you stick a second straw into the milkshake. 

Joel tries to playfully scoff, shaking his head with a compromising smile. “Haven’t done this with anyone in years. Not since high school, buttercup.” 

You coo and lean over the table to the milkshake in the center, watching Joel do the same. Your stomach flutters with butterflies, your foot gently nudging the ankle of his jeans as you slip your sneaker up and down his calf. 

His face hardens, pulling away from the sugary milkshake with a tense smirk. 

“Knock it off.” He grumbles. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You whisper as you inch your sneaker up higher, taking his jeans with it. 

“Don’t start nothin’. We’re headin’ out.”

You huff and take a few more sips of your shake. Joel settles the bill, opening his wallet and leaving a couple of bills at the booth before he walks you out to the truck. His calloused hand settles on your thigh, and your head rests gently on his arm. 

“Joel?” 

His chest vibrates. “Mm?”

“I’m really happy.” You don’t have enough nerve to look at him, hiding by digging your temple into the crook of his strong arm. He squeezes your thigh reassuringly, palm splayed out on your jeans and fingers lightly digging into the material. You wonder if he’s smiling like you are. 

“I’m happy to hear that, cherry.” He whispers soothingly, the gentle hum of the radio highlighting the baritone in his voice. “M’happy, too.” 

Your eyebrows furrow, noting how you are moving deeper into downtown and further from the motel. Head picking up, looking from left to right, confusion knits your brows. 

“Where are we goin’?” You ask, noting the skyscrapers looming larger and larger as you near the heart of the city. 

“You didn’t think I was gonna make you hang out in a motel room all weekend with nothin’ t’do, did ya?” He asks with a growing smile. Was this what he was thinking about back at the diner? You can’t conceal your grin anymore, it’s from ear to ear as he navigates the streets like he’s been here a million times. 

“Welcome to Downtown Aquarium. This magnificent six-acre entertainment and dining complex is a five-hundred-thousand-gallon aquatic wonderland home to over three hundred different species of aquatic life from all around the globe.” 

“Oh my god,” you whisper in excitement, listening to the aquarium guide who is walking the same path as you and Joel. You can’t help but excitedly take his hand and squeeze it. He holds it and doesn’t let go, even when yours slacks naturally. 

You look up to him and know you’re thinking the same thing. There’s no one we know here. We can be whatever we want, whatever we are. 

Joel ducks his head down and captures your lips in a swift kiss, squeezing your hand once more as they pass the entrance upon paying for your tickets. You pass a sign listing the different exhibits that are open right now, including Texas Bayou, Rainforest, and you were especially excited to visit the Stingray Reef, where you could touch live stingrays up close. 

The air was cool, even slightly salty upon walking inside. The soft hum and sputtering of the pumps and filters taking care of the different tanks played in the background of children laughing and giggling. The tanks were clear, supported by vibrant backdrops.  Your eyes skated from one attraction to the other, seeing fish of varying sizes as they glided smoothly like agents of the water. 

The further you walked into the aquarium, the farther you were away from the rambunctious children where you had more of the open glass to yourself. Joel’s own eyes were filled with a certain whimsicalness that can only be found in the eyes of a child, wonder and amazement all encapsulated in awestruck stares. No matter how old you get, there are the little things that fascinate just about anyone. For some people, it was fireworks or artwork that sparked that feeling in your chest. For you and Joel, perhaps it’s being this close to a giant fucking shark.

“Holy shit,” Joel muttered, your own eyes widening as a large, slow-moving shark swam in front of you and Joel. Their grayish-brown exterior caught your eye. They looked a little scary, snaggle-toothed with multiple layers of teeth. But they weren’t scary, they were actually kind of cute. 

“Aww,” you cooed as you stepped closer, gently bringing your hand up to the cool glass as another friend swam by. Joel wanders to the plaque for information, reading silently for a few moments before he decides to read some fun facts aloud for you to hear. 

“Found in temperate and subtropical waters around the world… known for their... unique reproductive strategy? What the f-...” a group of kids run by, halting Joel from swearing. Their light-up shoes make the hallway glow. 

You stifle a laugh and move closer, narrowing your eyes in the dark light. “Unique reproductive strategy called intra... intrauterine cannibalism? What the hell?”

“-Where the embryo consumes its smaller siblings in the womb, ensuring the strongest offspring survives.” Joel cocks his eyebrow like he’s impressed by the unbirthed shark's ferocity. “Damn.” 

“You two sort of look alike.” You sneer, which makes him whip his head in your direction. “Maybe you guys should grab beers after this. You’d have a lot to talk about.” 

Joel purses his lips and crosses his arms, shaking his head shamefully at you. “Looks like someone’s not pettin’ the stingrays no more.” 

“You would never.” You gasp playfully as wrap your arm around his waist while he settles his around the tops of your shoulders. You walk out of the shark tank hallway and back into the open aquarium. 

“I will if you compare me to that shark who eats its own siblings in the womb again.” 

The line to pet and feed the stingrays was long. It was easily the most popular attraction at the aquarium. The line was bustling with children tugging on their mother’s hands, impatient with the time it was taking to meet them. 

“Ocean pancakes.” You whisper, feeling your stomach swirl with nerves but also excitement.

Joel furrows his eyebrows, mouth flat. “What?” 

“Ocean pancakes. The stingrays. They’re the ocean’s pancakes. Flat boys. Cute grey flat boys.”  You’re close enough to the tank now that you can see the stingrays glide gracefully through the water. Your heart swells with eagerness, absentmindedly holding Joel’s hand tighter. 

He blinks a few times dramatically before looking around. “Are you having a stroke? What the hell are you talkin’ about?” 

“We’re next!” You say as you tug him forward. He has this look of hesitancy on his face and takes a step away from the line. 

“Joel?” You ask, and he shakes his head and shrugs, shoving his hands in the front pocket of his denim jeans. 

“No.” 

You scoff. “No, what?”

He shrugs again and juts out his jaw to the side in contemplation. You take his silence as an answer enough. 

“Are you scared?” 

A slight angry expression crosses his pretty features. You cock your eyebrow and cross your arms. You move to step out of line, but he quickly extends his hand out to your shoulder, stopping you. 

“Where you goin’? You’ve haven’t stopped talkin’ about the stingrays since we got here.” 

“I don’t want to do it without you. Want you to experience this with me. Joel, please.”

Joel holds his breath for a moment before he lets out a long sigh. He flares his nostrils but eventually joins you back in line. You couldn’t believe he was scared. You didn’t know him to be fearful of anything. 

“This is just how Irwin went.”

“What?” 

“Nothin’. I’ll give ‘em a little pet, but I ain’t feedin’em.” 

You’re the first of you and Joel to step forward to the attendant, who greeted you with a tired smile. Poor guy, he was probably here all day having to take care of the energetic children. You had to wash your hands before visiting the stingrays. They gave you these little fish to feed the stingrays. The attendant explained that the stingrays’ mouths were on the underside of their bodies. He dunks his hand into the tank and shows you how to feed them in a way that keeps your fingers away from their mouths. One hungry stingray comes right up and scoops it out of his hand, making you grin widely. Your heart raced with excitement, nodding your head as you demonstrated the proper feeding technique. 

With your hand shoved in the water, you and Joel waited patiently. They were a little shy at first, but soon, one started to swim in your direction. It was a beautiful little thing, grey and flapping its sides to skim closer to the surface. It nibbled on the fish before taking it with them, chomping on it in the water as it went. 

Joel smiled widely, his body hunched over the tank as he watched them. 

“Go ahead and pet this guy,” the attendant said as one affectionately came up to just below the surface. You flattened your hand and let your fingers skim its backside. It was cool and cold, smooth even. 

“Come on, Joel, you next.” You said as you brought your hand out and wiped it on a towel. Joel stared at the water for a few moments before he cleared his throat and put a hesitant hand inside. Your head nestles affectionately against his arm, watching the stingrays avoid Joel at first. 

“What did  you say about relaxing again?” You teasingly whispered, feeling his shoulders bunch as he sighed. Before all hope was lost, the same one who looked for pets from you came swimming towards Joel. It went slow, allowing Joel’s fingers to gently cascade down the glorious fish’s back. You watched his smile glow. The feeling was indescribable, doing something like that for the first time. 

“Thanks, folks, enjoy the rest of the aquarium.” 

After washing your hands of the fish smell, you and Joel toured the rest of the aquarium until the evening. You stopped at the small gift shop, and Joel bought you a stingray stuffed animal. You held it to your chest and smiled, adoring its soft fluffiness and the fat plush. 

“You don’t have to get me this. Stuff is so expensive here for no reason.” You whisper, running your thumb along its cheek. 

“Ocean pancake.” He mutters before paying for the overpriced stuffie with a little smile. 

Joel couldn’t stop gushing about the aquarium the entire drive back to the motel, specifically about getting to touch the stingrays. You watched with a certain twinkle in your eye from the passenger seat, the sun setting around your head, illuminating you like an angel. 

“My heart, it was racin’ back there. I mean, how often do ya get to go ahead and pet ‘em, y’know? It was so outside of my-my comfort zone, I never would have done that in a million years if it wasn’t for you.” He pauses and catches your eyes. He stares longingly for as much as he can before he has to turn his attention back to the road. 

There was that funny feeling. That maybe you guys were more. Like a couple. You flinch and look away, bombarded by your own thoughts. You’re only here for the summer. The years between you two were problematic at best. Imagine what your parents would say, what Sarah would think. You don’t have damn near anything in common. But you liked him. God, did you like him.  

You clear your throat as you open your phone for the first time all day. The last thing you had open was your message from Nathan. 

Heard you’re in Danbury for the summer with your folks. Wanna catch up?

Glancing over to Joel, your fingers hesitate over the phone’s keyboard before typing in a response. 

Yeah! I’m out of town this weekend, but maybe when I get back?

You suck in on the side of your cheek, finding yourself turning away from Joel to read over your messages. It’s been so long since you last saw Nathan in person. Your childhood was filled with him and your summers together in Danbury. 

From going to the county fair together and riding all the rides until you were sick from the fair food or watching the fireworks from the lake’s edge. The town barbeque that your mother spent weeks perfecting her dish to contribute. The fourth of July was only a week and a half away, the summer was breezing through so quickly. And this time, Nathan would be here for it, too.

Your phone buzzes once again. 

 I’ll see you then 

A burst of courage ran through your veins. You wanted to ask Joel what this was, if it was anything. Your time together had been so short, barely a month, but you’d known him forever. And these last few years, you had only grown closer. You part your lips to speak, but Joel beats you to it. 

“After this summer. What’s next?” 

Admittedly, you were now at a loss for words. Your uncertainty fazed him. What was he expecting you to say? What did he want? 

You sigh and drop your chin, stroking the stuffie in your lap for comfort. 

“I don’t know yet, Joel. Now that I’ve graduated, I can say I don’t really want to move back home.” You scoff playfully, an anxious feeling sitting in your chest. 

“Home with your parents or home as in Texas?” He probes, no warmth to his face, eyes centered on the road as you left the skyscrapers and high-rise complexes in the rearview mirror. A small pit festered in your abdomen. 

“I don’t know.” You say again, softer this time. 

Joel doesn’t seem content with your answer. He scoffs quietly under his breath and cocks his eyebrow. His thumbs fiddle against the wheel. He knows you want to travel, knows you want to leave. So why is he asking all of this? 

“Only so much of the summer left t’figure it out. I suggest you start thinkin’.”

Your lip snags in a snarl, face pinching as you stare at him. 

“You sound like my parents, Joel.” 

“Yeah,” he shoots back, quick as a whip. “‘Cause we care about ya. Wanna know where you’re headin’ with your life. Need some direction.” 

The muscle behind his jaw twitches, but he stares straight ahead while you stare at him. A pile of bricks rests on your chest, the seemingly safe temple you had built with Joel all came crumbling down around you. 

“You’re not supposed to put this type of pressure on me, I’m allowed time to figure it out.”

“You had four years of time at university. Now is when you should start having a plan.” His hand bangs against the steering wheel in frustration as he pulls into the motel’s lot. 

Emotions are high and they’re getting the best of you. You throw up your wall of defenses, just like you had used once upon a time with your mother on multiple occasions. 

“I’m not like everyone else, Joel, I need more time. And maybe I need to see a few things and experience more before I figure out what that is!” You snap, crossing your arms and staring out the window, your chest tight. “Such a fuckin’ hypocrite you are. You told me to trust myself, and I’m trying.” 

He scoffs quietly and shakes his head. “Not hard enough.” 

Hot tears brim the edges of your eyes. A perfect day spoiled by this hurtful conversation. Your sneakers scuff the pavement, slamming his truck door as you rush inside with the key. Shaky breaths leave you as you grab Joel’s duffel bag off the spare bed and toss it to the one you both slept in last night and spent the morning in. You change into your pajamas in the bathroom, face hot and filled with rage and sadness. You can’t seem to stop the tears that spill. 

Where did that conversation come from? Why did he have to ruin what felt so perfect? Just when you thought you were starting to feel something, Joel’s boot smothered the flames. 

He didn’t come inside, not right away. Gave you both some time to feel the weight of everything. You had your back to the door, your teary face buried into the pillow when he did finally return to the room. His boots thud against the carpet, nearing closer to where you lay. The bed dips where your knees are, his warm presence making you whimper. He smells like cigarettes and pool chlorine. He must have been sitting outside this whole time, filled with his thoughts like you were filled with your own. 

Joel’s hesitant hand rests on your hip, gently stroking his thumb across the material of an all too familiar Longhorns tee. You softly tug the covers up to your chin and sniffle, clenching your eyes closed tighter. 

His head drops, and he sighs weakly. “Never wanted t’make ya cry, sweet girl. M’sorry.” 

You shake your head weakly, eyes still closed, afraid to look him in the eyes. Afraid to feel for him. The moment you open yours, you know you’ll melt into his mahogany warmth and forget anything he ever did to make you so upset. 

He lets out a shaky breath, his hand moving up to gently cradle your head. Your lips part, bleary eyes finally opening to see his puppy dog face. His jaw shifts; he wants to speak but can’t find the right words. Your eyes plead for him. Say something, Joel. You’re losing me. 

A lump grows in your throat, and hot tears start to sting again. You thought you couldn’t cry anymore, that you had run dry. But seeing him again and all the tangled emotions you felt for him reignites the fuel. 

He can’t look at you crying. He focuses on your hand, your delicate fingers fisting the bedsheets that you cradled to your chin. The shield between you and Joel. He doesn’t want you to feel like you need a shield, he’s your shield. Sworn to protect you, care for you in times of need. Never let you down. 

“Please, angel.” He whispers, one of your tears meeting his warm palm as his hand moves to cup your jawline. 

With a shaky breath, you slowly sit up, messy strands tucked behind your ear as you reveal you’ve been holding onto the stingray stuffie under the covers. 

After a pause, seeing you sit up straight and face him. He forces himself to find his words. 

“I feel more for you than I know I should.” Joel stumbles, licks his lips, and continues warily. “And I know I'm not good at showin' it, but you make me wanna try. And I know ya might wanna leave. I don’t wanna stop ya. But I’m a selfish man when it comes to you. I like bein' with you.”

Your lower lip wobbles and your heart feels torn open to see Joel bare his soul to you, when to so many he's a tall stubborn oak. You let out a shaky breath as he continues.

“This thing between us, what I feel for you, it’s new. And I’m just a fool tryin’ to make sense of it all. I don’t know if you feel the same way,”

Your body slowly crawls into his lap, and you weakly cup his cheeks, stubble scratching at your soft palms. Losing yourself in his eyes, in his broken face, admiring all the little details up close. He’s torn, torn between loving you and letting you live.

You plant a chaste kiss on his parted lips and taste him slowly as the two of you melt together again. You wrap your arms around his neck and hug him tight, legs curled up in his lap as he holds you back just as tight. Your fingers weave helplessly into his longer curls. He’s so familiar, warm, gentle with you. He cares about you. He finally said it. 

After a moment, you find your voice. 

“If you hold me without hurting me, you’ll be the first who ever did.” It’s more whimpery than you had hoped, but it makes Joel hold you closer, yet with such delicacy. Like he doesn’t want you to shatter from his own devices.

Your face buries into his neck, smelling distant cologne and cigarettes. His large hand cradles the back of your head, keeping you with him, letting your racing heartbeats settle together. 

“I’ll never hurt you, angel.” It’s laced with promise. You hope it’s true. 

hellishjoel masterlist | notifications blog

[mountainsandmayhem]

Masterlist - all 18+

Little Dove (18+, Minors Do Not Interact)

After your daughters go off to college, you and Joel become empty nesters in your early 40's. The two of you take advantage of all this alone time, falling into a Sub/Dom relationship and exploring new kinks. No outbreak, these are characters in their 40's with real bodies. See each chapter for content warnings. Tags include: use of nicknames (little dove, baby, etc.), unprotected p in v, edging, bondage, spanking, consensual non consent, cum play, toys.

BDSMaid (18+ Minors, Do Not Interact)

After recently graduating from university, your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. It’s only temporary and a good way to save money for when you go back to get your law degree. That’s what you’re promised at least. Easy. Simple. Mundane. That is, until one of your clients is home and everything that you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love.

Moulin Rouge - AU (18+ Minors, Do Not Interact)

Joel takes up a job as a maintenance man at the Moulin Rouge. He's glad to finally have enough money to get by day by day, but when he sees you, the Sparkling Diamond, the whole world melts away and all that matters is you, even if you are promised to another. A/N: I'm writing this with @mermaidgirl30. She will be posting it on her account. See each chapter for content warnings. Tags include: oral, p in v, fingering, praise, use of nicknames (Darlin', baby girl, etc.), non consensual touching and misogynostic language (not by Joel).

Wings. Fire. Magic. - AU (18+ Minors, Do Not Interact)

You just needed one dragons egg, one egg and you could turn the life of you and your family around completely. But when Joel Miller captures you, it turns out that it's his life that gets turned around. See each chapter for content warnings.

One Shots

Shhh…Just A Little Bit More (DBF!Joel) Shhh...Just A Little Bit More 2 (DBF!Joel) Shhh...Just A Little Bit More 3 - Soft (DFB!Joel) Shhh...Just A Little Bit More 3 - Spicy (DFB!Joel)

Happy Easter, Joel Miller (Husband!Joel) Sunday With Your Dad's Best Friend (DBF!Joel) A Lesson In Learning (Dom!Joel) God Bless the She Devil Who Made Joel Miller (BFD!Joel) Right Person, Wrong Time (Joel Miller Fluff)

Tess’s Treasures (MFFF)

One Shots

Wonderful Tonight Netflix & Chill Aisle Amore

Just One More, Baby

Beach Babe

Please, Sir

🤓 Mayhem’s Reviews 🤓

Book reviews/recommendations for what I read that month

July

August