#star light divider by @/saradika-graphics

[sweetpascal]

— 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐫

pairing: general marcus acacius x fem!reader

summary: unsure of whether or not your husband is alive leading his army's invasion, the only method of tranquility is by reaching into your past memories as a necessary distraction.

warnings: MINORS DNI, wife!reader and husband!marcus, mentions of TW: miscarriages, (probably incorrect) roman history, mentions of TW: blood and death, making love, sweet nicknames (carissima/me - dearest, dulcissima/me - sweetest, meum cor - my heart, melculum - my little honey), marcus has a big dick, creampies, tender softness, probably ooc marcus ??

wc: 4.4k

notes: oh booyyyyyyy. so we all collectively agree that general marcus is scrum-diddly-umptious ?? all the pics, videos, and gifs dropping does not ease my obsession. so.. i turned my obsession into a work of art for all of you to read ^.^ idk squat about the roman times, but i did do my best to research !! divider from @saradika-graphics 🤍

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It seems like the days have been mixing in with each other the more time has passed. Unsure of which day started and which day ended, you lost track of time. It had been one month, maybe two at this point. The sun rose and set, the moon and stars following in tandem. It was almost like a dance. It was amusing, to say the least. It reminded you of your relationship with your husband. With the light color dress wraps and delicate gold jewelry you'd wear around your neck compared to his permanent scowl, it's clear to civilization who's the sun and who's the moon. But you both complement each other in more ways than one.

You're able to calm him down with a simple touch on his arm, causing his boisterous voice to quiet down and his heart to steady its pace. Marcus' presence looming behind you around others, everyone already knows how dangerous he can become if someone even looks at his wife the wrong way.

Now, without his presence and his voice and his touch, nothing feels real. Pacing around in the dining hall of your home, you rubbed your hands tenderly over your barely-there baby bump over your soft blue wrap dress that Marcus surprised you with the last time he had come home from a previous battle for more land. He had won, of course, because General Marcus Acacius never loses. The mere thought of him losing a battle led by him with his army in tow is one of your greatest fears as his wife.

Staying inside your home and wallowing in your fears was no good for you and your unborn child. You couldn't go through the stress of worrying after your husband and deal with another heartbreaking loss alone. The night that Marcus had come back, you had broken down in front of him, shakily telling him through your thick tears that you had lost your son.

"A son?" He had quietly asked you, his eyes wide and heartbreaking.

"The teller that settles by the river," you told him with a broken voice. "She had confirmed it with her readings."

You remember it clearly as day; the look on his face equivalent to that of a broken man. You had choked on your tears, begging for his forgiveness for not being more careful, for not being a dutiful mother that was supposed to protect their child. You had knelt down in front of him, grabbing his knees and pleading to him and the gods for forgiveness and punishment, your hands pressed together in a prayer.

"Carissima," he had whispered quietly to you, slowly getting down onto his knees to remove your tight hold on his dirtied pteruges. His hands, trembling and unsteady, tenderly hold your cheeks to look into your heartbroken eyes. "I shall never strike a hand upon you, need you deserve it or not. I shall never lay blame on something the gods have brutally stolen from us. Oh, my dearest wife." His last whisper had you gripping onto his arms and crying your heart out into his shoulder. He said nothing more, nothing else. On the ground that day, all he did was hold you, and that was more than what you needed.

Breaking out of that distressing memory, you busied yourself with around-the-house distractions. In your hands was a handmade wicker basket you had purchased at one of the markets. The owner was a sweet, older woman that knew of your reputation amongst the others. She always treated you with kindness and looked at you with excitement every time you came by and not fear. She also gifted you a handmade blanket sewn with intricate patterns of the moon and sun.

"I gift this to you as a thank you for your kindness," she had said, pushing the blanket further into your hands when you had protested. She lay a wrinkly finger against her lips and drooped her eye to a wink.

Stepping outside with the wicker basket in your arms, you traveled a short distance to a small pond with many bushes, trees, and delicate flowers all around. This was your happy place. And this was also where you and Marcus had made love for the first time so long ago. The tree, the rock, the patch of grass. All of it held a distinct memory of your first time. Thinking back to it brings a smile to your lips.

"Tell me to stop, and I will. Tell me to stop right now and I shall go back to where I rest and I will not pursue you any longer," Marcus had told you breathlessly against your jaw. He had you laid on the soft grass underneath the moon, the light shining against the pond in a way that makes the gentle movements look like glitter. Your dress was hiked up around your hips as he rested heavily between your trembling thighs, your hands squeezing on his strong biceps that flexed in response to your sizzling touch.

"Marcus," you sighed prettily in his ear, and it sounded like the sweetest song he has honor of ever hearing. "My need for you has not gone away. It will not go away unless you take me right here, under the moon and stars, until I'm singing for you in pleasure."

The look in his eyes was that of desperate hunger and wanton need. When he had slid himself into your cunt for the first time, all of your prayers to the gods have been finally answered. Marcus was made to be yours. And you were made to be his. Hushed moans and frantic thrusts, Marcus fucked like how others perceived himself – like a barbarian. Some women would disagree and find it appalling and dirty, but it was perfection. He wasn't scared to touch you. He touched you as though if he were to let go you would float away, for he would no longer be able to taste you on his tongue or feel your tight warmth wrapped around his thick cock.

A touch to your shoulder had you gasping and dropping the basket onto the ground. You spun around and laid a hand on your chest and one on your bump, staring at the poor maid that scared you accidentally.

"I deeply apologize for frightening you, miss," she stares at you with her hands up in defense as though she was staring at a frightening animal backed into a corner. "General Marcus has arrived and he asks for your presence in your bedroom."

"No, no, it's quite alright, dear. My head was in the clouds again," you offer her a gentle smile and a brief laugh, laying a hand lightly on her shoulder to ease her worries. "And Marcus, is he...?"

The young maid recognized your worry and shook her head as an answer to your unspoken question. You hand her the wicker basket of plucked fruits from the bushes and politely tell her to wash and ready them, and to bring them to your bedroom when the task is done. She nodded and hurried off immediately.

You carefully, but also hurriedly, made your way into your home. Nodding and giving polite smiles to the people inside, you walk up the spiral marble stairs. When you reached the top, there stood a statue of yourself sitting atop a stone with a statue of hour husband on his knees and his lips pressed to your knees. There were intricate details in the statue, like of Marcus' fingers gripping your thighs or the soft rolls of your body. Your husband preferred a large home such as this for his growing family. You preferred something quainter and more personal, but what your husband says, goes. You recognized his large, dirty footprints leading to your bedroom, another young maid already on her knees scrubbing the stains.

"Aureia, there's no need for that," you tut softly at the young girl, and she looks up at you with wide eyes. "Leave that alone for now, alright? As for this moment, will you please gather the others and bring pails of hot water for a bath?"

"Right away," she nodded and hurried off. It brings a smile to your face at how eager the young maids are to please. Unlike the other men and women that have maids in their homes, you treated yours like people. They respect you and in return, you respect them. Marcus used to disagree until he remembered how you grew up when it was just you and your widowed mother, along with the reputation of being poor. Realizing that you see yourself in these young maids, your husband made it a point to allow you to be in charge of them and do whatever you see fit. Having that much power can be overwhelming, only because of the fear of having your kind heart be taken advantage of. But those that work for and with you know to never cross you, for they'll have to deal with the consequences your husband has waiting for them.

When you entered your private bedroom, there he sat, still dressed from head to toe in his armor. He sits with his back facing the door, his sights focused on the large window that overlooks the garden which circles around the empty thermae. You slowly move around the bed and finally stand before him, essentially blocking his view of the window. Marcus doesn't look up at you just yet. So, you stay silent and let him do what he needs to, let him think what he needs to think.

His hands, still caked with dirt, grime, and dried blood, move up to your stomach. Your bump is within his line of sight. Both of his hands rest on either side, feeling the firmness and shape of the bump. You watch as his eyes shut and his jaw clenches. His face was also caked with dirt, grime, and dried blood. The ends of his hair are curled with sweat from the heat of his long journey back home to his family. Marcus says nothing when you stroke his jaw silently. Neither of you register the door opening and four maids coming in one by one to empty two pails each of hot water into the tub that sits in the corner of the room. They know better than to interrupt.

When the door shuts, Marcus moves to rest his head against your bump. His ear is pressed into your soft flesh through the dress adorning your body. He can faintly hear the thumping of your heart and that brings him back down to earth, back home to you. Your hands, warm and gentle, card through his messy, graying curls. Damp with dirt and sweat, you don't care. Feeling him right here, right now, was all that mattered.

"It's over," he finally speaks, his voice rough and low. His hands move down to find a home on your wide hips, fingers just barely digging into the shape. "The war is over. I made sure of it." And he leaves it at that.

Your eyes shut and you let out a sigh of mixed relief and heartache. You couldn't imagine what your husband had to go through, as a leader, to make sure that he and his army of men make it out alive. You couldn't imagine the number of bodies that are lying out there, hundreds of miles away, torn apart and bled out, mangled flesh and bone. You couldn't imagine your husband possibly being one of them. Bending down as best as you could, you tenderly wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders and kissed the back of his head. You briefly sniffed his hair and pulled back.

"Let's get you inside the bath, hm?" You whispered softly, hands lovingly scratching at his scruffy jaw as you pulled his head up to look into your eyes.

When he stands, you almost forgot how imposing he was. His height was a strong factor. The bloodied armor he wears makes him look much broader and more dangerous. The exhausted look on his face makes him look much more mean – evil, even. But he's neither of those things, at least not to you. He stands as still as a tree as you begin to unclip and pull off his armor one by one. From the thick leather chest plate bound with protective metal underneath, all the way down to the thick leather arm-wear covering his forearms. Unsheathing his sword from its belt, you unclip that from around his waist as well. Having done this a million times, it's muscle memory.

He stands before you, naked, dirty, and exhausted. You reach behind your neck and slowly untie your dress wrap. It pools at your feet, your naked body now on display for him to see after months apart. Marcus' eyes take in every detail. The delicacy of your collarbones, your perky breasts, the curve of your growing belly, the soft curls of your pubic hair, those thighs that Marcus loves being in between, all the way down to the dangling anklet he gifted you.

"Come on," you whisper softly and take his hand to lead him to the filled tub. Steam sits above the water and Marcus' aching muscles scream out to it.

He enters first, hissing at first from the heat but then moaning gruffly once he sinks further into the hot water. Almost immediately, his sore muscles begin to relax. He could fall asleep right this instant. He feels a gentle push on his shoulder. He scoots forward and allows you to enter behind him.

"What are you doing, dear wife?" He doesn't hear an answer to his question. He's about to turn his body, but then he feels your hands massaging his tender scalp and washing his dirty hair. His eyes shut almost instantly, and he groans huskily with parted lips.

You wanted to laugh at his reaction but decided against it. Marcus never had time to relax and wind down. He was always on his feet, always discussing the next steps of battle, always readying his army men with hardcore training. It pained you to see him like this, especially at a distance. He never wanted you around to witness his leadership. Not wanting to induce stress onto you early on in your pregnancy, not wanting a repeat of your last pregnancy, he had given you strict instructions to let him handle everything.

"Meum cor, you do so good with taking care of your husband," Marcus quietly tells him, his entire body shuddering when your nails tenderly scrape the sensitive parts of his scalp. "I know the other men are envious of the treatment I receive from such a divine woman."

"Mm, I know, my love," softly laughing at his goading. You reached over the side of the tub to grab a small wooden bowl. Using that to pour water onto his soapy curls, you gently tipped his head back and did just that. You kissed the side of his head and gently cleaned away the dirt and grime on his beautifully tan skin. You paid extra attention by lovingly kissing the scar on his right cheek.

For the next hour, you put all your focus into washing his body. No longer was he a filthy barbarian. No, he was now your clean, fresh smelling husband. His damp hair curled elegantly behind his ears and neck. You had maneuvered onto his lap to focus on his front. There were more prominent bruises on his chest and arms, as well as some cuts that have begun its healing process. You gave him a small pout, to which he tuts and lovingly cups your chin between his thumb and forefinger.

"I could ride into the sun and still come back to you in one piece, meum cor," he tells you quietly, moving his face much closer and shifting you to sit comfortably on his lap. "No man, no sword, no army could ever strike me down and take me from you."

Holding onto his scruffy jaw and peering into those dark chocolate eyes of his, he looks at you with such tenderness that no stranger will ever witness. Your bump is resting against his own stomach, and he feels every breath you exhale. Heads lean closer, his aquiline nose resting on the side of yours, lips just a hair away. There's distant chatter outside in the gardens, the curtains swaying gently from the warm breeze coming through the open windows. The water in the tub is still warm and steaming, the clearness of it was now murky from the dirt you cleaned from his aching body. You have half a mind to drain the tub and call out for more pails of fresh hot water, but you're so comfortable and safe in the arms of your husband.

"Do you recall the night I took you underneath the stars?" Marcus asks you huskily, both hands gripping your hips, strong fingers digging into your plushy flesh. He forces your hips closer to his, thick thighs tensing underneath your own. "The way you begged me to keep going, even when it began to rain down upon us."

Your lips parted to elicit a soft gasp when you felt his hardness on your thigh, thickening and rising with each second that passed. You do remember that night like it was yesterday. The soft rain pattering on your naked, writhing bodies. Your nails had dug deep into his skin to keep him from moving away. You had cried out to the gods for more, more, more.

"I do believe I may have scars from those nails of yours," Marcus joked lightly against your jaw, pressing a kiss to the bone with his plush lips.

Giggling quietly in his ear, you held his head close to your chest as his kisses traveled south. "I do believe you're creating tales, carissime."

He hums disapprovingly, holding you tighter on his lap when you shift. The steam from the water made his skin feel sticky and warm. You tasted salt on your tongue when you kissed below his ear. It was intoxicating, to say the least. Tasting him, trailing your tongue all over his molten hot skin, licking over his scars and freckles. There was a quiet minute when you both looked into each other's eyes again. Marcus can see the light hasn't died. He can see the adoration you have for him in the way your pupils dilate, and breathing quicken. And you can feel the love Marcus has for you in the way his eyes get slightly wide as he takes in your features, most likely mapping out which ones he hopes your unborn child takes from the both of you.

"Take us to bed, meum cor," you beg him. No longer able to keep looking at your handsome husband and not do anything about it, you leave it all up to him.

Without another word, Marcus stands with a hoarse grunt. With one strong arm wrapped tight (but not too tight) around your waist and his other hand under your thigh to keep you up and against his body, he steps over the tub and makes his way over to the bed. Neither of you care if your wet bodies are soaking the sheets. As he lays you down and rests on top of you, nothing else matters at this moment.

"Melculum, you look like a goddess with the sunlight kissing your naked skin," he whispers to you, lowering his head to kiss at your breasts and collarbones. You gasped and arched your back, further pressing your breasts into his mouth, to which he sucks a sensitive nipple between those lips.

Marcus rests on his forearms on either side of your head with his big hands tenderly cupping the crown. Your feet teasingly trail up and down the backs of his thighs, and you feel his hardness twitch between your bodies. Whispering his name in a needy voice, he looks up at you and catches the look in your half-lidded eyes. The flush on your skin makes your skin glow. He would never disrespect his gods and goddesses, but Aphrodite does have a competition on her hands.

Feeling too eager, you take charge and yank his neck down to finally kiss him. After months of not feeling his body, hands, and lips on yours, you powered all your emotions in this kiss. It was messy and desperate and hard. Tongue, teeth, garbled whimpers and heavy breaths. Marcus suckled at your bottom lip, letting it snap back against your teeth to then suck and bite at your neck. Your hips were shifting to slot his hard cock between the silky lips of your wet cunt. Grinding up and down, the thick vein that rests on his hardness glides easily against your swelling clit.

"Marcus," you weep quietly in his ear. "Oh, my husband. I need you more than life itself. Oh, you're the bravest, strongest soldier known to man. You're so... powerful, so dangerous. You keep your family and your people safe, my love." Saying this all while you're grinding your sweet cunt up and down the length of his hardness has Marcus growing erratic by the second.

He looks down between your bodies. Your cunt lips open like the blooming petals of the sweetest flower. The soft dark curls of your pubic hair rubbing against his own. Your small belly bump that keeps your unborn child safe and sound. Marcus uses his thumb to guide himself inside your cunt, breathing shallowly when the warm tightness sucks him in, inch by inch. Your mouth falls open to let out quiet, needy moans.

"There we go, melculum," Marcus grunts lowly in your ear, lowering his hips further down into yours and his thick cock slides deeper inside your leaking hole. The heat, wetness, and tightness of your cunt has him spiraling already. The knot in the pit of his stomach further unraveling the deeper he gets. "You were made for me," he breathes deeply, the heat of his breath fanning over your sensitive neck.

When he starts fucking into you, he was mindful to not rest his entire weight on your belly. He repositioned himself in a way that had his back curving to drive his hips deeper, faster, and harder into your own. The action had you arching and gasping. Your soft breasts and feet bounced gently from the movements. Marcus lovingly strokes down your temples with his thumbs and kisses you hard once again. Your fingers curl into his hair, now drying and curling beautifully. He looks like a god. It makes you want to cry. But then, his cock starts punching against the one spot that makes you scream.

"Oh! Marcus!" You yelped, eyebrows furrowed and lifted up as your mouth fell open and moans started pouring out. "Right there! Right... there. Ri-ight the-ere!"

He slows his thrusts until he's grinding so deep and so slow. Your moans turned into whimpers. He was able to hear the sloppy noises of your cunt soaking around his hardness. He grins down at you, his dimple deepening when you twitch and writhe.

"So beautiful," he whispers against your jaw. "So ethereal underneath me, writhing and begging for my cock." Marcus sharply drives his cock into your cunt unexpectedly. You let out a long, wanton wail that has his grin widening. He does it again, and again, and again. It was driving you absolutely crazy.

Your slick is most likely dripping out of your hole and onto Marcus' balls which slap against you. You can practically feel the weight of them, so heavy and full of two months' worth of cum. He drags his cock in and out of you slowly now, allowing you to feel every vein and every inch. Your thighs spread wide for him, eager for more. He answered your silent pleas and fucked you at a quicker pace again.

"Wrap your arms around me, Marcus. Oh, please, please, please!" You sobbed quietly, tears prickling at the corner of your eyes. He follows immediately. His strong arms wrap under your back and he rests some of his weight onto your front. Your thighs widen to accommodate his size, allowing his cock to nudge deeper in a way that steals your breath. "Just... like... that," you whimpered after each thrust Marcus gives.

He feels dizzy and overwhelmed in a good way. The smell of the homemade soap on your skin, the softness and warmth of your naked skin against his, your sweet moans like a pretty song in his ears, the slick tightness of your cunt sucking him in repeatedly. Feeling, smelling, and hearing all of these at once was enough to finally let him spill out his moans without holding back. His chest vibrates against your bare breasts with each grunt that passes his kissed-raw lips. The vibrations on your sensitive nipples tickled you erotically.

"You are intoxicating," he moans heavily against your sticky skin, his scruff scraping deliciously and his lips and teeth leaving little love bites. "Non possum satis de te." I cannot get enough of you.

With your eyes rolling back and your thighs trembling around his wide hips, you simply cannot control what your body does. Marcus catches you off guard by messily kissing you, his tongue intertwining with your own, tasting each other's saliva. The taste of him had you whining into his mouth. There was a faintness of wine on his tongue. Although you obviously couldn't drink while you bear his child, the lingering taste of it on your husband's tongue was enough to drive you wild. Your hands, originally placed on his shoulder blades, trail down to his tapered waist and finally cling onto his perky bottom. You squeeze the tender flesh and briefly dig your nails into the skin, feeling the muscles clench and unclench with every roll of his hips and cock driving into your cunt.

"Tu parum desperatus es, huh?" Marcus' voice sounded cocky and the grin on his face didn't help. You're a desperate little thing, huh?

One of the things that made your husband a respected leader was his arrogance was never wrongfully directed. He loved to gloat, about anything and everything. But when it came to you, his wife, his ego inflates to the point of popping.

That's when you felt it. The coil in the pit of your stomach gets tighter and tighter, forcing your gooey walls to twitch around Marcus' thickness. He moans lowly at the feeling of it. He hooks one of your thighs over his arm, bracing your knee into your chest to fuck you deeply. The position change had you shuddering, more slick leaking out and staining the sheets below your bodies.

"I'm... I'm... fuuuck!" With one final cry out to the gods, you scratched down Marcus' skin and braced yourself for impact.

Your orgasm washed over you like one of the strongest ocean waves known to man. Your body wouldn't stop twitching and writhing underneath his massive body. The squeezing tightness of your cunt wouldn't let your husband fuck you any longer. He drops down and lets out a final rough grunt before spilling inside of you. He has a entire body shiver as his cock twitches repeatedly, his thick cum spilling out every few seconds. It finally stopped after a whole minute; yes, you were counting. The tickle of his cum hitting you deep inside had you giggling drowsily.

"You should be thanking your husband for giving you a well-needed release, not laughing at him," he hums against your skin, the vibrations of his voice and bristles of his scruff tickling you further, causing you to laugh louder. He feels your belly jumping from your shaking body and he can't help but to smile.

Being in the arms of his wife after a long journey of war and death, there really is no place like home.

[sukirichi]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐁𝐘𝐄 | 𝐆. 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

In a world filled with too much cash and flashing lights, will a solemn and ironically private relationship of a celebrity chef and wealthy socialite branded as star crossed lovers remain full of adoration and sincerity?

cw. fem! reader. celebrity chef! reader. gojo is insanely rich. angst. unedited. suggestive (they make out and is implied to sleep together, but no explicit scenes are shown.) hurt with a little bit of comfort.

notes. i can’t explain it but there’s just something about this fic i’m not completely satisfied with... i feel like i could’ve written it better LOL but also i just wanted to write something casual

wc. 17k

divider from saradika-graphics <3

Contrary to what people may say, Satoru knows he’s worked hard to get where he is.

The silent yet sharp-tongued man whose mere sound of his shoes stepping in the hallway sent his employees rushing inside their cubicles with fear. Belonging to the top tier of society as a result of being born wealthy and powerful, his name was enough to have people’s knees quivering of what the young heir was capable of.

He had the world at the mercy of his hands.

His icy blue eyes were empty, cold, and relentless – a stark contrast to his angelic features that fooled people. With his face pasted on almost every magazine, and companies vying for his attention left and right, journalists begging for a five minute interview, it was no brainer the importance of Gojo Satoru. And with his looks that had every man and woman stumbling before his very feet, the line between angel and devil blurred thinner.

You see, being born a God in front of everyone’s eyes was not as easy as it seemed. Tabloids always spread fake rumors claiming the young heir did not deserve to handle his family’s group of companies due to the fact he didn’t even graduate college. Or that was too scandalous for his own good to keep up a good reputation. As someone who holds major stockholders in the mercy of his will, everyone expected better.

Satoru scoffed at it all. To him, those were nothing but measly words.

He was the Gojo Satoru. He could do whatever he wanted, however he pleased, and all the world could do about it was complain. Such rumors (albeit ringing with truth) did not affect his life whatsoever.

Still, it doesn’t come as a surprise to him how uncultured people preferred other companies to be on top of the food chain – like Zen’in Corp, or Kamo Inc. They had far better reputations (ha, Satoru thought sarcastically), and were more well-liked by Japan. Satoru knows better though. No one is truly kind when they had enough wealth to claim the world as their own. Naoya Zen’in’s smile was as natural as his blonde streaks, and Noritoshi Kamo wasn’t even the company’s real heir. The latter was a bastard, and the former an attention seeker.

At least Satoru was honest and did not put on any facades of being a good man. He knew he was not.

The other men were greedy, always ready to pounce at every opportunity to have another digit added to their bank account, their expensive colognes successfully hiding the stench of their evil nature and their perfectly chiseled features resembling those of a seductive demon’s. Satoru was not surprised that he was born in a castle that resembled hell. Though it does not bother him anymore, he used to be saddened by the fact that he had been close with them in his youth. They spent their days spent chasing each other in the garden and pulling the trigger of water guns mercilessly, but all that was forgotten when each of them were groomed into perfection, just waiting to see who would take over the throne and who would end up as subordinates.

A battle which Satoru won without breaking a sweat.

And just like that, friendships dissolved. Men who he once called his comrades became his rivals in the industry.

Being the eldest of the three, their blood boiled when the official announcement came: Gojo Satoru had officially been stated as the new president of the Gojo Group of Companies.

It was not an easy competition. The bond between friends were soon replaced with greed and hatred for each other. Both Naoya and Noritoshi were ready to rip him apart at every mistake he made, but they did not know how fortunate they were. While they spent weekends overseas in cruise ships with flutes of champagne delicately nestled between their fingers, fucking every pair of tits with walking legs, Satoru locked himself in an office at the young age of eighteen. Whilst everyone savored the flavor of youth, he was forced to make the wisest decisions when it came to business. And little by little piece, his humanity had shattered until it was destroyed completely.

Gone was the cheerful boy who always spent too much time playing with his dogs and not minding that his latest Gucci pyjamas had been stained with grass. In fact, he did not even remember that side of him existed at all.

That at one point in his life, he’d been a normal boy with a normal childhood – before the weight of the world wore him down.

Glancing sideways at his security team, the head guard, Toji, nodded and commanded something through his radio. All the guards dispersed and made way for him. In a matter of a minute, the employees who were walking aimlessly in his hallway had scrambled in their offices. Sighing tiredly, Satoru rolled his eyes. Toji opened the doors for him as he stepped out, the dull, gray exterior of the spacious room feeling like home more than anything else.

His secretary, Mei-Mei, bowed politely at him and handed him his caffė macchiato. His fingers reached for the cup before facing the glass walls. Beneath him, the entirety of Tokyo lay pulsing at his feet. With one scoop of his hands and a simple word uttered through his lips, he knew he could take everything. And he could if he wanted to, but such was the dilemma of having everything.

Satoru Gojo desired for nothing at all.

“This,” his father once said at the twelve year old him, his hand sweeping from the exact same place he stood in. “will all be yours soon, my son. You have the world in the mercy of your hands.”

The hot beverage burned his tongue. He reeled back, biting at his tongue in the process of soothing it as he listened to Mei-Mei list his agenda for today. He had just gotten home from Beijing less than an hour ago, and he couldn’t even sleep on the flight because he was swarmed with paperwork and a hundred more proposals to accept. Yet the exhaustion does not show on his face. In fact, there was a not a trace of it. His face remained blemish free and healthy thanks to the dermatologists who always gave him free treatments in exchange of endorsing them – which he never did.

Raising his chin high, he peeked past his shoulder to look at Mei-Mei, who had her tablet tucked in her armpit, silently awaiting his response. “Alert the Board of an emergency meeting within ten minutes, and I want Mr. Ijichi to bring me the real sales report regarding the Wangguo Resort for the past five months.”

Mei-Mei’s gasp is barely audible. Satoru knew his request was absurd, but it was her job to do everything he told her to. If she didn’t, well, the answer was clear as day. She could say goodbye to her lovely job.

Turning his back to her, Satoru scanned his nails lazily. He needn’t worry about anything. He knew Mei-Mei would always do what was needed at the price. But – his eyes narrowed – he was in desperate need of another manicure. Hours spent typing and calculating sales had chipped them, and he had to keep his appearance of a perfect man who had his life together. After all, he was Satoru Gojo – the flawless one. The god walking amongst humans. He could never quite tell when there were cameras ready to catch him off-guard, but he’d never risk that chance.

He had to be without fault.

“An emergency meeting?” Mei-Mei stumbled over her words, chuckling nervously as she swiped at her tablet, looking for a reason as to why he would ask her to do such a thing. Satoru nodded, fully aware that most of the members on the Board were in different provinces out to do their job, but he was the most powerful person in that building.

Nothing was impossible for him. His wishes were the law.

“What for, Sir?”

He slapped a red envelope with a golden seal down his desk, eyes forming into slits. Mei-Mei cowered under his gaze. “When I went to Beijing to check the status of our hotel, I found out that there had been issues regarding maintenance and plumbing reported for five months now, and no one told me about it? I run a five star hotel that exceeds the expectations of even royals, and I won’t forgive this treachery. According to the hotel staff, their supervisor had told them to keep the complaints confidential because they didn’t want me to know there’d been issues in the first place.”

Though he spoke smoothly and did not even stutter or waver the least bit, Mei-Mei had known him long enough to know that even the slightest twitch from his eyes meant he was furious.

This wasn’t the first time your brothers had tried to take whatever was yours in their possession, but the sales report of that hotel had been forged and the Board was aware, yet they did not inform you in fear of what your brother could have done to them.

This wasn’t the first time his staff had kept secrets from him. They all piled up until it became too big to ignore, and then Satoru had to step in. Seriously. Was he a joke to them?

“No, I take it back,” he said suddenly, plastering on a fake smile at his oblivious assistant who tried her best to conceal her relief. After all, Mei-Mei too had been tired with the amount of workload he gave her, but if she wanted remain as a woman with deep pockets, she just had to turn his wishes into reality. “Fire all members of the Board, and blacklist them. Make sure no local or foreign company will ever hire them, but because I am a man of mercy, they can still be hired as waiters or janitors.”

Mei-Mei’s mouth opened and closed like a fish, and it looked so comical Satoru would’ve laughed if he knew how to.

Instead, he smoothened out invisible creases from his three piece suit before sitting down, the harsh yet familiar blue light of his Mac desktop greeting him. His fingers skirted along the keyboard in the speed of light, and from his calm state, you would have guessed nothing happened, but this could be his downfall.

He’d always been warned to keep his temper in check, to think things through before coming to a final decision, but why would he?

If his own people would not respect him, then he wasn’t required to return the gesture. After all, he didn’t need them as much as they needed him. He could easily replace the figures making up the Board. But he was the president, the man who made those lazy, fat fucks rich. They had gotten too comfortable with their positions, and he needed to show them that he still held their lives on the line.

That ought to teach them a lesson.

“Sir, please reconsider this and don’t make decisions compulsively. The Board plays a big role in our company–”

“Tell me, Mei-Mei, is a King only considered a king when he has people to serve him?”

She falters for a bit, her eyes watching him cautiously. Satoru leant forward the slightest bit, the black glasses framing his face in a way he looked almost innocent. But the coldness of his eyes were enough of a telltale that he was not someone to be messed with. Aggravation and mirth danced in them almost mockingly. He could read her perfectly – this secretary of his. He’s not stupid; he knows she hates him. And why wouldn’t she? No one liked Gojo Satoru. He was mean, ruthless, and invalidated everyone who he deemed ‘lower’ than him. And yet, he hadn’t met a single person to prove him wrong.

The truth is that no one was as capable of doing things the way Satoru did.

He was the smartest person she’d ever met to the point it was frightening. Satoru always had a solution to whatever situation, with countless of secrets and tricks hidden under his sleeve. And he wasn’t as awful as everyone said he was. Yes, he was ruthless, that much Mei-Mei could admit, but only to everyone who deserved it.

Anyone who didn’t do their job right, or abused their power wouldn’t escape Gojo Satoru’s wrath. Call him a demon, or the devil’s son, but Mei-Mei saw him more of a judge who brought justice and punishment to those who did wrong.

Satoru leant back against his chair, satisfied with her answer before dismissing her with a wave of his hand. “A king remains powerful when his kingdom is omnipotent. I’m glad you understand that now,” he said, head snapping up as he remembered something. “Oh, and don’t forget to schedule a dinner with the others tonight at that new restaurant everyone has been crazing about.”

Mei-Mei nods, pressing ‘cancel’ to the rest of his agenda for the night. She made a mental note to call the restaurant ahead of time to tell them to reserve the place all for Mr. Gojo. Taking one last look at him, Mei-Mei realizes that if she wants to keep working with the devil, she had to stay on their good side.

“I’m not doing it.”

“Boss,” Yuuji whines, pouting as he holds your hands and shakes them in an attempt to make you reconsider. You merely scoff, freeing yourself from the younger one’s grip with a glare. “They said they’ll pay us handsomely if we reserve the whole restaurant for just the night, and I’m afraid we’ll close down if we don’t do what they tell us to. It’s not just anyone, you know. It’s the Gojo Satoru.”

You looked at him disapprovingly before resuming your task of cutting vegetables. “Our shop won’t close,” you reply confidently, “We only take reservations per table, not for the whole restaurant. They should eat somewhere else, I don’t care about the money.”

Of course you knew who Gojo Satoru was – everyone did. It was kind of hard not to know the guy when the entirety of Japan had been in love with him from the moment he was born. That wasn’t an exaggeration, either, because people actually had photos of the heir from when he was still a baby. ‘Such a beautiful boy,’ they cooed upon the sight of his stark-white hair. And when he finally opened his eyes, it was done for – the young Gojo Satoru had everyone wrapped around his finger before he even babbled his first words. So yes, you knew perfectly well who he was, and that was exactly why you didn’t like him.

For such a popular man, his reputation was anything but good.

You didn’t want him anywhere near you, or the restaurant you shed blood, sweat, and tears to build.

You were the newest celebrity chef the world crazed over. Not only were your dishes to die for, but your looks caught the crowd’s attention, too. Pair your introverted, awkward personality with your endless charm shown in your dishes, you quickly rose to fame. Tabloids and magazines alike starved to get a taste of your dishes – a glimpse of you, even. With the latest opening of your new restaurant in the city, people have been coming in endlessly, wanting to see the infamous chef for themselves behind the kitchen.

Yeah, you wouldn’t let that happen.

Unfortunately for the media, you would rather hide behind the kitchen doors than have to go through another dreadful interview. Apart from a few pictures taken by the paparazzi and endless praises from your customers in your skills in cooking, you remained a mystery – something you’d prefer to keep.

Having Gojo Satoru and his ‘peers’ over would completely ruin that.

As much as you loved your career, knowing you made money doing what you loved, you detested the attention it came with being associated with the rich. One day, you were elbow-deep in your dishes, and then you were suddenly being invited to the most pretentious social events. Wealthy people roamed around, content with making the price tags of their clothes their personalities. You didn’t mind at first. It was exhilarating, even, to be thrown into a world so different from the one you were born into. But after one gathering where three wealthy men offered to hire you as their personal chef, and promised extra pay for ‘special services’, you left that world behind.

You swore not to be involved with the socialites anymore, even if it meant more success for your future. You cared less about the money anyway – you were confident in your skills enough to know you could pave your way with your own hands. You would never accept money from their deep, dirty pockets.

 “Boss, you need to see this!” Yuuji whispered harshly, tugging you by the apron. You grumbled upon being separated from your chopping board, but his words fell on deaf ears as you both watched the customers clamor in excitement, phones being pulled out of their pockets. Soon enough, your restaurant drowned with flashing lights, and an equally blinding smile from the tall man who entered, his cheeks flushed from all the attention. “Holy shit. He looks even hotter in person.”

Thankful that you had your contacts on, you could see the scene before you clearly.

The people rose from their seats, eager to have a picture taken with Japan’s most beloved. His security team immediately formed a protective circle around him when the people clamored, the Gojo heir apologizing because he didn’t allow pictures. He claimed tonight was a special night, and he merely wanted to have a private dinner with his childhood friends.

Oh, fucking great. He’s bringing others here, too?

As if the situation couldn’t get any worse, two, black and sleek cars pulled up into the driveway. Naoya Zen’in stepped out of the car, shades propped on his tall nose as he smirked at the cameras already being flashed his way. From the other car appeared Noritoshi Kamo, his lips pressed into thin lines while blatantly ignoring the chaos ensued from their mere presence.

Your eye twitched. You could feel a migraine coming already.

To say you feel enraged would be an understatement. You pushed past your crew with a stormy expression, prepared to tell these stuck-up elites to go visit another restaurant. Was it really that hard to give you peace? You never accepted their reservation to begin with. However, you didn’t make it very far when you felt a strong hand grasp your arm.

“Boss, please hold yourself back, it’s just a dinner they’re asking for. If you intervene now, this could cause a public commotion,” Yuuji glances at the three men from the corner of his eye before warning you, “They’re not people you can mess with.”

Soon enough, his former customers had dispersed out peacefully with the assistance of the family’s security team, and he grits his teeth in an attempt to contain his anger for pretentious people like them, watching as they occupied an empty table. One of the waiters approached them nervously, three menus in her hands and she’s about to hand them out when the eldest looking one spoke irritatingly.

You huffed. You hated how he was right. Successful, you may be, but you could never come close to their level of power and wealth.

With an apologetic smile from Satoru – who made four women faint from the sight – your previous customers dispersed with the assistance of Satoru’s security team. You gritted your teeth in an attempt to contain your anger. They were so pretentious! Naoya, especially, flicking two of his fingers at your waiter as a signal to clean up the table he wanted. Scurrying on his heels, your staff nervously approached them while the others cleaned up in the speed of light, and handing them the menu’s with shaky hands.

Noritoshi nodded once at the waiter who approached him, while Satoru paid them no mind as he flicked through the pages. Meanwhile, Naoya clutched the wrist of the waitress who’d handed him his menu, brushing his lips against her knuckles.

You watched as your waitress froze. You were about to push his hand away from her when Satoru beat you to it, his voice icy and his words cutting like a knife. “Can never keep your hands to yourself, huh, Zen’in? With the amount of women visiting your estate, I’d have figured you would know enough to never touch a woman without her permission.”

Naoya scowled, immediately dropping your waitress’ hands before plastering another smirk. “No need to be a killjoy, Satoru. But anyways, what’s the reason for calling us out of the blue? You know well enough I had matters to take care of in Kobe.”

Satoru doesn’t lift his gaze from the menu. “Actually, I don’t know that. I could care less about your schedule. But I figured I haven’t seen my dear old friends in a while and thought a meal would be nice.”

Noritoshi spoke up, and Yuuji whispers to your ear on how he was one of the most popular models in the industry, and third to to them in the top bachelors of the decade. “Cut to the chase, we don’t have enough time.”

“Calm down, why are you in such a hurry? Let’s order first shall we?” You plaster on a disgustingly forced smile, taking the tablet Yuuji hands you as you gravitated towards Satoru. Stupid bastard – he doesn’t even look your way. “We’ll take the Spicy Uni-Lardo Sushi in Lettuce Cups and Foei Gras-Steamed Clams.”

He listed a few more – the most expensive meals on the menu, too – and you jotted them all down with steady hands. Although the restaurant was eerily silent, you could feel the crew’s eyes watching over you from the kitchen like a hawk.

“Will that be all, Sir?”

Satoru hums, waving his hand in the air. “You’re dismissed. Now leave us.”

Your jaw dropped. This little – Yuuji snatched you back into the kitchen, but you’ll be damned if you didn’t defend your honor. Handing their orders to the other chefs so they could get started, you leant against the kitchen doors and peered out from the cracks to eavesdrop.

“Because I treasure my dear friends so much, I won’t waste your time any longer and get to the matters at hand. Naoya, let’s talk about the chain resort in the Wannguo branch, and Noritoshi, here is your lawsuit for fabricating my sales report that’ll land you a free six year vacation in jail.” A white haired woman appeared out of nowhere, pulling out a black envelope with bold letters reading ‘LAWSUIT.’ Satoru swiftly picked it and slid it towards the raven haired man’s way.

Noritoshi gaped at Satoru, “What’s the meaning of this, Satoru?”

“I should be asking you that. Isn’t it not enough for you I collaborated on this project with you? Are you that intent on kicking me out of my own company you’re sabotaging your responsibilities and lounging around in London?”

Deep down, you knew you shouldn’t be eavesdropping. But this was the type of drama you saw only in dramas, and you couldn’t tear your gaze away from them even if you tried.

Upon looking behind you, you saw your crew had paused in their work, too, intent on watching the drama unfold before your eyes. The Gojo Clan were practically royals in the country, always portrayed as indomitable and powerful beyond belief. It seemed hard to believe there were things that got under Gojo Satoru’s nerve, with his friends, no less. Sure, you’d heard Naoya scamming people here and there, along with rumors of Noritoshi abandoning his work in pursuit of pleasure.

And, regrettably, you assumed Satoru wouldn’t be any different than them. Now, you were getting a front seat view of what truly transpired beyond the surface.

Gesturing for your crew to go back to work, they all grumbled but obediently followed anyway. You took your attention off them and glanced back at Satoru, taken aback at the sight of pure irritation for his company – and if you looked a little closer, hurt pooled around those captivating eyes of his.

Perhaps he was human like you after all, and while he didn’t exactly give you a good first impression, you were decent enough to respect this was not something you could keep on wathcing. Resuming your work, you began to heat up the pans, their voices distant yet clear.

“Jail? Don’t be ridiculous, I don’t belong in a place like that!” Noritoshi, the younger one, shouted with an appalled expression, his hands slamming against the table as he sent an almost pleading look at Satoru.

“Then you shouldn’t have fabricated my documents to begin with.”

“Be careful, Satoru,” Naoya warned with a harsh whisper, “We were born with the eyes of the world around us, one wrong move and I’ll have the media ruin your tarnished reputation even more. You may be the richest amongst us three, but don’t think you’re invincible.”

“You asshole,” Noritoshi retorted, thin lips forming into a sneer. “If you were going to file a lawsuit against me, you couldn’t have done it privately? Don’t belittle us, one bad review of this restaurant and this place will burn down to pieces, and I’ll make sure you go along with it.”

Satoru’s melodious laughter made you all pause. “A death threat, how funny! You both truly are so sweet, but let me warn you that I have the press eagerly waiting for my signal, so act on your best behavior and pretend we’re having a hearty meal together,” In a matter of minutes, you interrupted by showing up with their food. Satoru’s eyes lit up as he clapped his hands in faux enthusiasm. “Oh, the food’s here, eat up! My treat tonight since you’ll all be losing your money anyway.”

From the corner of your eye, you can see Noritoshi glaring at his plate. Satoru had ordered you to serve him the seafood, and judging by Noritishi paling at the sight of it, he must’ve been allergic. Jesus. If he faints, or worse, dies at your restaurant tonight, it’d be completely pinned on you. You didn’t even do anything to be involved, and yet it seemed as if Satoru was dragging you down with him. Nevertheless, Noritoshi picked up his utensils. The scratching of silver knives against the plate filled the room, accompanied by the soft, jazz music that gave off a false, comfortable atmosphere.

Oh, but it was anything but that.

The tension was so thick in the air you found it hard to breathe. Satoru was like a ticking time bomb, Noritoshi was a few mouthfuls away from turning completely red in the face, and Naoya hadn’t stopped ordering refills of his wine.

Satoru dabbed at his mouth carefully with a napkin. What a shame, he thought. You had such a lovely restaurant, and your food was to die for. He would’ve enjoyed it if it hadn’t been for his so-called friends sabotaging his career.

“Here’s the deal – no, I do not need to make deals with my subordinates – here is what’s going to happen and listen carefully because I won’t repeat it again. Naoya, as from this hour, you are relieved of your duties as supervisor of our resort, but you’re free to have my vacation home there as compensation. As for you, Noritoshi, I’ll burn this lawsuit and forget your crime if you promise not to let even your name be spoken for the whole year. In other words: get out of my sight. Am I making myself clear?”

“How dare you do this to me?!”

“Sit down, Naoya, you wouldn’t want your pretty face to be ruined with that frown. Are we done here, boys?” Satoru enjoyed it, he really did.

To see two powerful crumble before him made him feel things he couldn’t quite put into his words. Entertaining, he called it, to know he was capable of cracking their tough personas. It made him wonder how many more buttons of theirs he could push before he destroyed them completely.

“Yes.” Noritoshi nodded with an almost pained choke, and Satoru leant back triumphantly. Because he was a model and sometimes an actor if he wished, he was more exposed to the media and cared more about his image more than Naoya did, thus making the former easier to manipulate and kneel down to his whim.

Satoru smiled, pleased. “Then you may go. Noritoshi, I’m keeping your car keys under my possession for the meantime, but my chauffeur will gladly chaperone you everywhere as long as I deem it necessary. And Naoya, I already sent my apologies to your escort, she’s as good as a stranger so you don’t have to worry about the press exposing your disgusting behavior.”

The latter looks up from his empty plate with wide, questioning eyes as if to ask how he knew about that, but he had never been a good liar. Satoru knew him well enough that he never took care of business matters and instead spent his days wasting the precious money his family had worked for just to pay the most ‘prestigious’ of escorts. He had a disgusting personality to ever make a woman land willingly in his bed, which is why he resorted to throwing his money just to have someone beautiful in his arms to flaunt off in social events, or warm his bed.

Though not in his line of sight, Satoru knew his bodyguard was watching. He stood up with grace, slapping a wad of cash down the table as a signal of his business finally dealt with. You expected him to leave the restaurant when he surprised you by heading your way. Eyes wide, your hands reached out to feel the doors when Yuuji subtly pushed you towards Satoru.

Oh, dear heavens. Yuuji was right.

The magazines and pictures of him didn’t do him any justice. He was absolutely breathtaking now that he was before you, his cold eyes now holding the tiniest bit of warmth as he regarded you. Back facing the other men, Satoru lowered his head. You stood there with baited breath, your heart pounding in your chest as his lips brushed over your ear. He was close enough that his expensive perfume wafted over you, and you could touch the ripples of his muscles bunching up against his baby blue shirt if you were brave enough to reach out.

“Thank you for the wonderful meal. I haven’t had a proper one since I was a teenager, and please don’t worry about what happened today, you won’t be involved in our personal matters. In exchange for your service, I will pay you generously.”

Satoru took a step back, and you stood there, muted and dumbfounded. You hadn’t expected he’d speak so softly to you when his words were harsh towards his ‘friends.’ And as if realizing the effect he had on you, a smirk ghosted at the edges of his lips. “Mei-Mei.”

Flashing you the best smile he could muster, he extended his hand to the side as his assistant pulled out a cheque. Satoru signed it without taking his eyes off you. He slid it your way, your eyes bulging out when you saw the ridiculous amount of zeroes he’d written on it. Instead of feeling pleased, irritation sparked in your veins.

You pushed his cheque back to his chest. And yes – your theory was proven correct – his muscles were hard and firm underneath that silk shirt. “I don’t need your money.”

You liked to think you had the upper hand when Satoru’s eyes widened by a mere fraction. It must’ve felt like a slap to his face, having someone refuse his money for the first time. But just as it came, the surprise vanished from his handsome face, slowly replaced by a teasing smile. Satoru leaned forward once more, bullying his way into your personal space until you were left with no choice but to share the same breaths of air.

He smelled like leather, wine, and something intoxicating that dared you to have a taste. Just one small taste, even if it meant possibly becoming addicted.

“Uptight and feisty, just how I like it,” chuckling to himself, Satoru draped his discarded suit jacket over his shoulders and sauntered out the door. “Expect me again, Chef. This won’t be the last time we’ll see each other.”

You prided yourself for being someone in control of their emotions.

Yet, you’re overwhelmed by the sight of hundreds of customers waiting in line as they all snap pictures and chatter excitedly among themselves. You frown when Yuuji barges into your office without knocking (a habit that you’ve told him to change, but he never seems to listen) and almost shoves a tablet in your face as he struggled to keep himself on his own toes.

“Boss, you should read this, it’s insane!”

“Gojo approved restaurant of celebrity chef, now a five star restaurant in Tokyo!” You read the headline monotonously, Satoru’s handsome face from that night pasted on the article and waving at the camera. You could almost hear his light, breathy voice telling him that one way or another, he would find a way to pay you. You can’t help but scowl, because out of all things, he decides to pay you with publicity and unnecessary attention.

“‘Members of royal families and prominent leaders from all around the world have been rumored to pay a visit to either one of the five branches of the new rising celebrity chef’s restaurant. Another hit for the Chef!’”

“Isn’t it great, boss?” the overly jovial noy giggled, and you try not to wallow in embarrassment. “That’s not all, watch this video, it was released last week.”

Yuuji clicked on a video clip, and you lean forward, ears intently focused on the footage. You’re not surprised to see Satoru walking down a familiar road inside one of the most well-protected villages. Adorned in a white fur coat with black slacks that hugged his legs perfectly, he approaches the horde of reporters waiting outside the gates with a polite smile. He waves at the flashing lights, careful to show off his Patek Philippe 5004T wristwatch.

Tch. Showy bastard.

“We saw you at The Green Garden last month enjoying a dinner with Naoya Zen’in and Noritoshi Kamo. Tell us, how was the food there?” A report asked, about to shove her microphone in his face that was blocked by his ridiculously muscled bodyguard.

Jeez, you thought, did that guy take steroids for breakfast or something?

“Oh, I don’t have enough words for it,” he purred, and you hold your breath for his next words. You’re a little surprised at how his breathy voice managed to sound commanding and husky at the same time. “When I walked in, the aroma was just mouthwatering, and don’t get me started on the meal itself. It was absolutely delectable, all the flavors practically melt in my mouth, and I don’t think I’ve ever spoiled my taste buds this much.”

Your brows shoot up. Did he mean what he said? People like him rarely spoke the truth – everything was a show for them. He would say whatever appeased the public, and you weren’t sure if he even had the time to enjoy your food considering he was stuck in… quite the predicament. Still, you don’t pause the video, barely hanging at the edge of your seat as you listen.

“I did hear the food there was good, especially since the Chef is quite gaining some popularity over the last few months,” another reporter stated, and soon they were all nodding their heads approvingly. “Still, you’re someone who has probably tasted something better. Would you recommend the Chef’s dishes?”

Satoru smiles, letting his bangs frame his handsome face as he stares right at the camera. You feel your breath get caught in your throat, solely because it felt like he was looking at you. Once again, you’re more captivated by the shine in his eyes, rather than the blinding light of his mischievous smile.

“Of course,” he smirked, “It would be a sin not to have a taste of her.”

Yuuji chokes on his own laughter beside you. He starts shaking you by the shoulders, completely unaware that you’re a goner by now. Everything the younger man says falls on deaf ears. You find yourself too immersed in the video clip, that teasing smirk on his face disappearing as th crowd pushed further and further. His guard steps forward just as Satoru flicks his hair to the side – an action that would’ve been condescending on most, but somehow looked elegant on him – and retreats back to his Audi. Not just any Audi either, but an e-Tron 2010 Spyder Concept.

Meanwhile, you can’t pick what could be hotter – that a man like him had the ability to make your usual indifferent self flustered, or that he drove a classic car instead of a brand-new one.

You shoot up from your seat, eyes narrowed and chest puffed with determination. “I need to go grocery shopping!”

It’s not rare that you went shopping by yourself. Yuuji usually accompanies you to complete the task faster, but you preferred to be alone today to take your time picking only the best ingredients. Not because you wanted to impress a certain millionaire, of course. Or was he a billionaire? You forgot, but he was definitely Japan’s darling, and one word of praise from him now had several bookings sent your way. He’d placed a standard, one you had to live up to.

You had three branches in the entirety of Tokyo, one more in Paris, and another in the Netherlands – the last branch you opened after you fell in love there during your last visit. The country enthralled you with its mesmerizing simplicity and beauty. It felt like a dreamland there, with everything from farm to table, and everyone adored the dishes you came up with. Once you’ve saved up enough to live comfortably for the rest of your life, you planned to live there – to spend the rest of your life in serendipity and contentment – hopefully next to your future husband.

Ever since you received the news (albeit without, the amount of people lining up at your restaurant was a clear tell-tale your sales had been skyrocketing), you admitted you felt pressured. You needed a variety of  ingredients to experiment with, and hopefully add to your menu – something that both common folk and socialites could enjoy. After all, your main goal was to provide a wondrous magic in the form of a plate that was both simple yet luxurious enough to enjoyed as a treat to oneself.

Crossing off the carrot from your grocery list, you keeps pushing your cart through the spacious area. Your attention is divided between reading your to-buy list to surfing through each aisle. There was always a hidden gem if you looked hard enough, and that’s what you needed. A wild card of sorts, a completely never-seen before ingredient used in a new dish.

You’re so immersed with the task at hand you fail to hear the sound of footsteps nearing. Reaching for a bottle of wine (you cringed at the price), another arm shoots forward to reach for it at the same time. You pull back, the skin contact almost scalding to you. You open your mouth to apologize, only to have the words die in your throat when you come face-to-face with him.

Satoru was no less than tall and mighty, his cerulean eyes hidden behind black-tinted glasses. You can’t help but run your gaze over his figure – he’s now dressed in a white button-up shirt tucked in his dark blue jeans. Simple enough, yet you knew the price tags of his clothes would be enough to have you faint.

“Hello.”

“Hello to you too,” he grinned, firmly clasping the wine in his hands. He twists it around, analyzing its content before he hums to himself, pleased. “Great choice of liquor. I highly recommend this.”

The words stumble out of your mouth before you could stop yourself.

“I had no idea you went grocery shopping– I mean, why would you? You probably have others doing it for you and this is just another pointless, boring task–”

Satoru’s laughter is enough to make you shut up. Yep, okay, you totally screwed it up now. You scold yourself for a split second for being so awkward and not greeting him properly. But then irritation creeps in because you know Satoru isn’t different from the others. You should feel thankful for the publicity, yes, because Satoru’s singlehandedly made you skyrocket into popularity, but your pride told you that you don’t owe him anything. However, all rational thoughts fly out the window when you find yourself joining in his laughter – actually smiling – that you have to physically stop yourself from doing so again.

What the fuck?

You don’t smile. You don’t laugh. Everyone’s called you unpleasant and you take that with your chin held high. Yet somehow… you can’t help it when you’re in his presence.

Satoru tips his head to the side, and you forcibly look away with a clear of your throat. “I’m not shopping,” he says, “I was going to ask you what you’re doing here, but then again, no one goes to the grocery but to shop, right? And you’re a chef, so it’d be a rhetorical question.”

You nod slowly, unsure of what he’s getting at. He still keeps a firm grip on the bottle before he hands it over, making sure to brush his skin over yours in the process. You fight back the urge to shiver. “1949 Domaine Leroy Richebourg Grand Cru, a vintage wine whose price was boosted for a post-world war appeal. Only a few hundred bottles are produced annually, and while not exactly scarce, it’s a rare piece.”

You scans the bottle in astonishment, your mouth forming an ‘o’ shape as you debate whether to buy it or not. A second glance at the price tag and you place it back without hesitation, not caring even if you could afford it, because there was no way on earth you were buying a five thousand dollar drink no matter how good it tasted.

“I take it that it’s not to your liking?”

“I don’t. I’m not much of a drinker anyway,” you reply honestly, mustering all your courage to face him. “If not to shop, then may I ask what you’re doing here?” You look behind him to see if his secretary or guard was around, but he seemed to be alone. As observant as ever, Satoru answers your unspoken questions without missing a beat.

“I’m here for business. This place is mine, and I came here to assess its monthly status.”

You look down at your cart, suddenly feeling small and shy as you mutter, “Of course you own this place.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks innocently, and you stumble over your words, your thumb circling your pointer finger nervously.

“I mean,” you start, pointing to the entirety of the brightly lit store that was almost the size of a concert arena. “This is a private membership grocery shop, and only people who are willing to pay a lot can go here. You’ve got many products here that aren’t available anywhere else, and it only makes sense it would be owned by the Gojo Family.”

“Owned by me, actually. This place was built when I took over, the idea entirely mine,” he corrects you and moves past, looking back with a confused expression when you don’t follow. “Well, aren’t you going shopping? Let me help you with it.”

You don’t know why you agree at his offer to help, but you don’t regret a single moment of talking to him. Satoru is stiff and rigid to his core, unlike his ‘friends’, but he was surprisingly a great conversationalist, and silences with him weren’t painfully awkward. He was also a lot smarter than he made himself out to be, but then again, you supposed one had to be intelligent to take over a group of companies at such a young age. And when he tells you deeply regrets not being able to fully appreciate your meals because he had ‘matters to deal with’, you can’t help the light fluttering of your chest that comes with it.

It starts out as slow burn, with a warmth barely felt if you didn’t focus enough. You can’t pinpoint exactly when you started to see him in a different light. In that moment, Satoru suddenly seemed small and almost vulnerable in your sight. Almost human. You can’t help but notice that he has his eyes glued to his feet – not because he’s uncomfortable with eye contact – making sure to not step over the dark lines from the white tiles. He was like a child going through an obstacle race, skipping at one point to another as he talks, and you stood there, wondering – just how much did this young man lose when he had to gain the world?

Through the eyes of the world, he was someone who had it all.

Born in a wealthy family with ancestors who never knew what the word ‘rent’ meant, and simultaneously blessed with good looks, you even remember a few articles written about him. How everyone was in awe and praising him for being a genius, but you believed everything came with a price – even the grandest of blessings.

You could only imagine what he must’ve been through. To be deprived of a normal childhood in exchange of a life of luxury, instead of being able to play under the rain. You could see him locked inside his father’s office, going through financial statements and attending board meetings at the age of sixteen. Meanwhile, you played at the cornfields with kids your age during that time, enjoying your youth and chasing after your passion.

But Satoru? He was constantly judged by the public for a single mistake, thus turning him into a make believe version of perfection.

Due to his lack of knowledge with cooking, he wasn’t of much help when it came to shopping. He was splendid company, however, and you felt soothed by his presence and his expensive perfume. It’s a scent you welcomed wholeheartedly, and so you find yourself asking him if he’d like to have dinner with you – at your restaurant – on a Friday night. When he doesn’t respond right away, you make up a lame excuse that you’re only giving him opportunities to look at the place much better than last time.

It makes Satoru stop in his tracks. You start to take back your invitation at his lack of a response when Satoru suddenly takes your hand in his, his eyes widening at how perfectly they seemed to fit (no matter how cliché that sounded.) He takes in the way your hands were rough and calloused from your labor, how it was a sign of all your hard work. Growing shy, you begin to pull back, but he keeps you in place – unconsciously squeezing your hand tighter.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yes,” he smiles – and this time, it isn’t meant for the cameras. He’s not flamboyantly flashing his pearly whites, or trying to look perfect. It’s just him, with a small, shy smile meant only for your eyes to see. “I’d love to have dinner with you.”

“Okay,” you repeat, smiling shyly before finally – finally – squeezing his hand back.

You tug at your champagne dress uncomfortably. It might’ve been a little too tight for your liking, but Yuuji insisted it was the dress, and no dress would be better for tonight’s dinner. The strapless dress hugged your figure elegantly, the material flowing smoothly as it extends past your knees. Pairing it with some kitten hells, you were confident you cleaned up well – aside from the problem at hand that you couldn’t breathe. You weren’t sure if the dress was too tight, or you were simply too nervous.

You’d closed up the restaurant early in hopes of having some privacy, even going as far to close the velvety black curtains to hide yourselves from prying eyes. But with every minute that passed by, the special dish you’d prepared with your mother’s secret recipe grew cold. Not a single notification beeped from your phone. Not a text, or a call – not even from his secretary. Nothing but pure silence on his side.

Standing up with a grim expression, you pinch the candle to kill the flame.

What were you even thinking? Did you really think someone as untouchable like Gojo Satoru actually wanted to go on a date with you?

You looked around the restaurant that held a special spot in your heart. It might not be up to his standards, but it meant the world you. It was a product of your hard work and passion. This career enabled you to design it yourself, to build it from the ground up. You’ve decorated it solely to impress Satoru for tonight – with golden chandeliers hanging in a waterfall and teardrop patterns, the tables equipped with satin napkins and silverware polished to perfection. All that effort just went down the drain.

Your eyes fall to your wristwatch. Your father leant it to you before you moved to the city to follow his dreams, saying “Keep this, my sweet daughter. Time passes by so fast in the city and I don’t want you to lose a single second of your life. People will always pass by in a hurried blur, or not come at all.”

Isn’t that what you were doing right now, waiting for someone that might never come at all? He was right. You didn’t need to wait around. Satoru had his own life, he belonged to the city and its fast-paced rambunctiousness. You weren’t like him, you reminded yourself. You and him lived in completely opposite worlds.

Pressing your lips into a thin line, you sigh and start to pick up the untouched dishes.

Gojo Satoru was a man who lived and breathed along with the city, the erratic pulse of the city lights resembling the skip in his steps whenever the paparazzi caught up to him. Even if you were somehow on par with him with your own successful career, tonight was still a harsh reminder of the fact that there would always be a massive difference between the both of you.

Your purpose was to serve people and give them memories of a hearty meal. Satoru bent people with his own hands, and obviously wouldn’t even give you the time of day. Perhaps you’d read the signs wrong – if there were even signs at all. One praise from him didn’t mean he liked you, after all, and why would he? He’d admitted out loud he couldn’t even remember what your food tasted like. Hours and years perfecting your craft, and he’d forgotten it all because ‘he had matters to deal with.’ God. Did he see you like that, too? Just another issue to be dealt with, another box in his list to be ticked off?

You’re about to throw away the wasted food when the glass doors of your restaurant opened. You stood back, Satoru all but running and heaving so heavily with beads of sweat running down his face.

“Wait,” he gasped out, raising a finger to give him a moment. “Don’t – don’t close yet. Just let me breathe.”

Did he run here?

Frowning, you scan his outfit. He’s dressed up more than usual today, yet his coat jacket is wrinkled and his hair is all messed up, possibly from running all the way here. His baby blue shirt is also damp with sweat. You immediately reach for some towels and make your way to him – reaching up to pat his face dry when the two of you freeze. Your eyes are blown wide, and so are his. His chest staggers with each breath he takes, and delicately, he holds your hand. His brows furrow and he exhales, his breath minty and his scent intoxicating. You’re captivated with every inch of him – from his white lashes, to the slope of his nose, the fullness of his glossy lips.

You never realized how much you’d missed him until you thought he would never come.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice willowy soft. Closing his eyes, he reaches for your hands, burying his cheek into it and pressing a kiss to the insides of your wrist. The action is unbelievably tender, surprisingly intimate, but could anything feel more right? “My latest shipbuilding company just launched, and we had the opening ceremony at my newest cruise. I would have gotten here on time, but the formalities took longer than expected when a Duke came to send his congratulations.”

You open your mouth to say it’s okay, but you know it’s not. He knows it’s not. It’s already midnight and he made you wait for six hours – no calls, no texts, nothing to inform you he’d run a bit late. It makes you feel stupid for taking the time and effort to dress up, enduring the pain of having Yuuji force you to try on different dresses that would suit you best. It’s embarrassing enough that you don’t have friends to share this moment with. The poor boy had been so excited, too, texting you every hour to ask how it’s going. You just didn’t have the heart to tell him Satoru wasn’t coming.

A pregnant pause settles between you. You see Satoru swallow and fidget with his hands, almost as if he knows you’re disappointed in him. You’re really not, though. At least it wouldn’t be disappointment that you’re feeling. You’re just… hurt.

You look at him one last time. You’re about to call it a night, because you’re a person of punctuality, and you don’t take rejection very well – all of which Satoru has made you feel sensitive over. Right now, you feel humiliated and belittled. Like your time wasn’t worth as much as is. But then you see Satoru, the way he folds in on himself, looking down at his feet and gnawing at his feet that you can’t help that maybe he, too, mustn’t have wanted to miss this.

Sometimes it is so easy to forget Satoru was human too. That he struggled as well, that with his power came with the undeniable fact that this friendship – or whatever this budding relationship is – would not be easy.

You sigh, flicking his nose to call his attention in hopes of lightening the mood.

“I understand your work is more important than a dinner with a friend,” you declare slowly, gauging for his reaction. “But out of courtesy, I would have appreciated an early notice if you couldn’t make it on time.”

Satoru’s face lights up. Pleased with your answer, and undeniably taken aback – he was a master in his craft of sales; he knew the right things to say to get whatever he wanted, but social interactions were not his forte. He realizes though, right in that moment, that it’s something he’d like to work on more. He doesn’t want to see that look on your face again when he ran inside – your crestfallen face, a momentary lapse of relief and worry, and now with hurtful eyes.

“I’ll take note of that,” he promises, already moving to pull out your chair for you. “Shall we have dinner, then?”

“Actually,” you start, with a glint forming in your eye. “I think I’d want to have dinner on this cruise of yours, and maybe I’ll forgive you.”

Smirking at your answer, Satoru tilts his head sideways. “It’s not an everyday occurrence that I have to ask for someone’s forgiveness, so I don’t see why not.”

You liked to think you’re a simple person.

You love nature, and hold the firm belief that whatever is done upon you would always return back to the person. You remember crying in your mother’s arms when you were a little girl, frustrated that humans had tortured their own planet and how you wanted to reverse climate change. Growing up in the countryside surrounded by endless fields of crops and an abundance of greenery, the city and its chaos shook you to your core.

The flashing lights felt blinding and overwhelming. You hated the smell of smoke and pollution, feeling suffocated by the change in atmosphere. You found yourself often glaring at the tall buildings that always stood dominatingly over everyone, as if to say that its towering height could only be reached by those select few.

Its owners stood over you like gods watching from the sky, and they had the power to create their own temples that soared all the way to the sky – a galaxy and universe entirely of their own.

Now, you’re not so sure you still hold that same predicament as you take in the blueness of the sea, the salty breeze nipping at your skin. You welcome it with a shrug of Satoru’s coat around your shoulders, so enamored with the sound of waves lapping against each other. You don’t notice the man standing next to you, or the way he studies your reactions with an amused smile. He realizes you look so innocent like this – your mouth curling into small smiles as you point to the dolphins. The realization comes to him like a sudden splash to his face – that he’s never felt this light before, and it’s always only with you.

After taking you to his cruise, you practically pushed him out of the kitchen as you prepared another meal of two. The meal was nothing short of ravishing, making Satoru momentarily forget about table manners as he inhaled it. The expensive champagne and hors d’oeuvres sloshes around his stomach with each sway of the cruise. Dinner had been pleasant; you were a great listener who gave him his undivided attention – the type that made him squeamish because he felt exposed from the core within. He’d grown up used to people eager to please him, but this was the first time someone had listened to him intently with the intention of knowing him. And when you asked what made him sincerely happy, Satoru realizes that he does not have the answer to everything.

“I’m not sure,” he admits, twirling the fork aimlessly as he tries to avoid your prying gaze. “Happiness is fleeting in my world and… I’ve just never found it. My whole life, all I’ve ever done is work and make my business grow, and I guess I’m happy enough with that.”

You hum in response. He looks up to see you gazing at him, deep in thought. You almost looked sad in that moment – sad for him. It isn’t any later that he realizes you sympathize with him, an emotion he’d been alien to. It goes without saying that you felt the emptiness, the hollowness carved out from Satoru’s heart, and how lonely he’d been all this time. And you found it funny, how someone could have so much, and so very little at the same time.

“Come with me.”

He stares at your outstretched hand. It’s difficult to silence all the voices in his head before he places his hands in yours, trying not to melt when you smile up at him. Gently, you lead him to the balcony – the freshness of the air waking him up from his sense. Due to the fact that Satoru was a perfectionist and had zero tolerance, he designed the cruise himself to its glorious beauty. Yet he remained oblivious to the wonders of it all, the beauty of the moment from where he stood. The sea is calm and soothing, the whole expanse of Tokyo – his empire – visible from he stood. He tells himself the night isn’t beautiful because of the romantic lights, or the jazz music playing from the speakers, but rather it’s the celebrity chef who was starting to grow on him.

From the corner of his eye, he watches your smile grow bigger, your cheeks puffing out from the cold. It’s undeniably adorable. Ever since that night he met you, he’d read a few articles about you, and even had Mei-Mei call publishing companies to give him new copies of whoever featured you. You only had a few pictures taken – his shy, sweet chef – always wearing an apron and never a smile.

To see you with your guard down, looking so happy and free, he might’ve gotten his answer that night.

You were his happiness.

“Doesn’t it look beautiful?” you ask him, smile still so wide, and it is evident you adore nature. He makes a mental note to open an orchidarium soon, or perhaps a tea shop with only the rarest of leaves for brewing, silently hoping he’d get to see more of that smile.

“Yes, it does.”

Indeed, you looked beautiful like this. The bright lights of the city painted your skin in a warm glow. You looked like an ethereal combination between sunset and sunrise, and he swore in that moment you embodied the sea itself. You were calm, quiet, reserved – much like him – but you held this aura from your presence alone that made him feel safe; there was something about you that assured him he could just be… him.

You were like a breath of fresh air, and it would be a waste not to breathe you in.

Satoru calls out your name. When you look up at him, the breeze whips your hair to the side, exposing a set of hesitant eyes that makes him take a tentative step forward. It isn’t the wine, or the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He thinks it’s just you that makes him feel this way – undoubtedly whole and alive. He is not a man fond of making mistakes, and he is not about to make one now and not kiss you.

“Can I kiss you?”

He waits for it – waits for you to tease him, that he doesn’t have to ask. But there’s none of that. There is only the sharp intake of your breath, the minute way you grasp your pearl necklace to yourself. “I-I don’t know how to.”

Satoru steps closer until he’s only a hair’s breadth away. You turn rigid despite yourself, feeling his hand cup the back of your neck. You tilt your head sideways to let him have more access, his warm breath that smelled faintly of wine fanning over your skin.

“May I teach you then?”

You whimper in response, and he holds back a groan at the sound, silently wishing to hear more of it from the future. When his pillowy lips press against yours in the first contact, your eyes remain blown wide as you stare back at his closed ones. Fear settles in you that this is your first kiss, and you have absolutely no idea how to do it. But then he pushes back with a little more force this time, and you close your eyes and moan, your lips moving in rhythm with his. Your hand reaches up to fist the silky fabric of his suit that hugged his muscular figure sinfully. He’s firm and solid under your touch, like an anchor holding you down. And his taste – he tastes like everything you’ve ever wished for, everything you’ve ever wanted. He is the wine you get drunk on, the sugar you lick off your lips, and the taste of heaven on this earth.

Satoru swallows the moans you make, his large hands engulfing your face. With each sound you make, his tongue playfully pokes at your lips, begging for entrance. And you let him, melting at his touch and held up only by his firm grip sliding down to your waist.

The first contact of his tongue coaxing out yours to play has you almost quivering under him. Those large hands come up to the bare skin of your back, his cold skin sending a harsh bite to your warm, flustered one as he holds you steadily. Your other hand reaches out to tug at his hair and he groans, a sound so masculine yet so wanton that a flame burns within you. You find yourself battling your tongue with his – a sensual dance where there are no winners. A minute passes before you two break apart, foreheads pressed against each other as you both try to catch your breath.

“Can I keep going?” He asks, his deep voice faltering due to the lack of breath. You feel triumphant knowing you did that to him. Nodding, he places his hands under your ass and squeezes it in a silent command to jump, and you do so with your hands interlocked at the back of his head. Satoru dips down to kiss you again and turns you into a moaning mess. He rocks his body against you, grinds his muscles to the softness of your body, groaning when his erection presses up to your heat. How he managed to pull away in between kisses is beyond you. “Are you sure about this?” He mumbles against your lips.

“Yes,” you plead, crashing your lips back down to his. And somehow, Satoru stumbles to a room where he finally gets a taste of you.

Satoru is woken up by the harsh lights glaring at him.

Groaning, he places an arm above his eyes before deciding to sit up and start his day. The freshly washed linen of the blanket pools at his waist, and he squints his eyes to take in his surroundings. For a moment, the bedroom is unrecognizable, and when last night’s events become clear to him, he chuckles drily to himself.

Had he gone so far that he no longer recognized his own bedroom? But then again, he rarely went home. His properties all looked differently that he wasn’t surprised anymore.

Your neatly folded dress sits at the bedside table. His shirt – nowhere to be seen. He finds his pants at the pile of clothes left on the floor, though, and he quickly puts them on before the amazing aroma of waffles welcomes his senses. Walking out the room, Satoru is pleased by the sight before him – you in his shirt, bottomless, humming to yourself as you expertly maneuver around his kitchen.

Smiling, Satoru walks to the marbled countertops and wraps an arm around your waist. You stiffen under his hold before you realize it’s him.

“Good morning,” he greets, deep voice still a little croaky and you greet him back, resting your chin on his shoulder as he watches you crack some eggs. “Did you get a good sleep?”

You shrug teasingly and brush your lip against his ear, “Kind of hard not to, after last night’s events.” As you expected, his cheeks soon become dusted in light pink and you chuckle, leaning back to his solid chest with warmth blanketing you.

“Sit down, let’s have breakfast.”

Satoru is more than happy to obey. Munching gratefully, the comfortable silence is almost too good to be true.

It’s been months since you and Satoru started going out. You’ve both done a good job at keeping it from the media so far – a mutual decision because you liked your privacy, and Satoru didn’t want anyone tainting what he held close. He’s grown so accustomed to your presence that half of his closet is filled with your things. You basically lived at his house in Tokyo now, and your body just naturally angles itself in a way that allows him to always have him touching you.

Although you still scrunch your nose in distaste at the thousand dollar monotonous paintings that decorate his walls, you like being with him. You soon learn of his weird habit of not closing doors simply because he’s always surrounded by automatic ones, successfully eradicating his attempts at being a gentleman and having him open doors for you, but you don’t mind. Not really.

The past few months have been nothing but eye-opening for him, as he learns to love for the first time, and he could only hope this feeling in his chest isn’t something fleeting.

You were affectionate, never lacking or selfish when it comes to showing him how much like him, and he’ll admit he likes your kisses more than he’d like to accept, and that’s how he knows this relationship isn’t one sided. Still, the small fear that settles at the back of his head remains, that maybe you don’t love him, or at least, you’re not there yet. Watching you prepare his breakfast every morning, however, Satoru’s worries are silenced. He’ll worry about that another time.

He finishes first and moves to do the dishes, the loud running of water muting your hurried footsteps behind his. He can’t help but smile when you eagerly take the sponge from his gloved hands and look at him determinedly.

“What are you doing?” He asks teasingly, and you stick your tongue at him.

“Move, Gojo. We both know you don’t know how to wash dishes.”

Even after months of being with you, he’s still not used to the fact that he – a man everyone admired and – could experience a love like this someday.

You scrunch your nose up cutely that it takes all of his willpower not to bend down and kiss it. “I said move! Scoot your cute butt out of here.”

“Baby, it’s okay, I know you don’t know how to do it and I don’t mind. Besides, I have to learn to do this. What if we get married and have children, I obviously can’t let you do everything by yourself.”

You freeze at his words, your thick-rimmed glasses sliding off your nose awkwardly. Your whole life, you’ve dreamt of love, and imagined settling down and having your own family. Despite your rising fame and success, turning you into one of the wealthiest women in your country, you never planned to live as a celebrity chef for the rest of your life. You wanted to live simply, much like your parents, and to spend the rest of your days in a farm.

You’ve thought it about before, of course, the possibly of marrying Satoru.

But the thought had been too ridiculous at the moment. Satoru was always somewhere far away, rising from his seat with practiced elegance as he received yet another presitigious award for his endless accomplishments. The cameras would be pointed his way, and he basked under the spotlight. He thrived in it.

Your silence doesn’t go unnoticed by him. He watches as you revert back to your expressionless face, eyes looking directly forward at the white tiled backsplash of his sink that you know cost thousands. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t.”

And it is true, you aren’t bothered by the least bit. Surprised, definitely, but you’re beyond elation at this point. You realize it doesn’t matter that you probably won’t get to live the life you want if you marry him – because he’s all you want. If giving it all up meant being with him, you would do so in a heartbeat.

Which is why you grit your teeth silently as you attend your first ball overseas, latched onto Satoru’s arm. You don’t miss the way everyone scrutinizes the seemingly average looking woman next to Japan’s darling.

Satoru doesn’t notice that you’re a bundle of nerves. He smiles brightly at the multitude of cameras pointed your way, making sure to show off the Gojo heirloom he decorated you with. It’s a gold ring with a hundred mini diamonds encrusted in it, the characters ‘Gojo’ engraved underneath. A horde of reports soon come into view, and instinctively, you duck your head when the lights become overwhelming. They all spew out questions asking since when the two of you have been dating – and this is the part you hated the most.

The part where your life becomes a piece for the people to feast on, instead of something you made for yourself.

You opt to stay silent and let Satoru answer everything. He isn’t fazed by the least bit, answering them confidently, although not giving away too much personal information. He tells them you’ve been dating for a year now, and it’s evident in his eyes that he feels strongly for you. Not a moment later, the cameras pan your way, the people eager to hear your side of the story.

“Chef, how have you managed to steal his heart?”

“As the old saying goes, the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach,” you tell them, your heart beating a mile a minute from the discomfort of too much attention. You turn to your fiancé in hopes of consolation. He smiles at you encouragingly, the warmth and adoration pooling behind it immediately dissipates your nervousness. “As long as it’s for him, I don’t mind going to the moon and back.”

They seem satisfied with that answer, and you find yourselves in the front cover of both local and foreign magazines, the world crazed about the latest couple.

Satoru is lying on his tiger fur rug with crossed legs, leafing through every page of your photo album. His free hand absentmindedly rubs circles where it’s settled at your hip, the sound of his breathing steady and almost lulling. Yet, you’re bothered by everything lately – how you’re being reminded of everything you don’t like about this world – his world.

They don’t even know the real you. How could the world go from praising you for your skills in cooking, to being both shamed and admired for being engaged to Satoru? Your heart clenched at the multiple headlines that called you a gold-digger.

As if you didn’t have your own money.

“Hey,” Satoru mumbles, twisting a little from his position. You’re looking at everywhere but him, your heart heavy and mind a mess. It’s too late when Satoru notices the dark circles rimmed under your eyes, and he cups your face worriedly, tilting your chin to make you look into his eyes. Your own face has fallen, your eyes sad. He immediately feels guilt, unaware of what he made you endure at his expense.

Perhaps he wasn’t as observant as he claimed to be. Ever since he’s announced your relationship, you’ve received countless criticism from the public. Satoru never said a word about it, thinking these strangers’ words wouldn’t affect you, or that it didn’t matter because who were they, anyway? And you never spoke about it either, not wanting to put a heavier weight on his already burdened shoulders.

“I’ll take care of it, alright? I promise.”

You know what he means.

It means he’ll end up spending a lot of money – although to him it’s probably just a penny – as he has Mei-Mei get rid of those negative articles. You know he has enough power to shut down even an entire publishing company who attempted to say anything bad about you. You don’t want him doing any of that, abusing his power and throwing around his money just because he can.

Shaking your head, you reach forward and press your face against his chest. “You don’t have to do that. I just have to prove to everyone I am worthy of you.”

It is way past four in the morning, and you wake up with a stir, only to find the light of Satoru’s laptop illuminating his worn-out face. In front of him are a plethora of reports, glasses perched on top of his face. You sit up with a stretch, and he jumps a little at the movement.

“Sorry, did I wake you up?”

“No,” you answer, rubbing your eyes tiredly and looking at his work. You don’t understand half of it, but you knows it’s something about a new hotel he’s planning on developing somewhere in the country. “It’s late. Why are you still working?”

“Business is business,” he shrugs, focusing his attention back to his work. The development plan has just finished, and the cost of construction is nothing but another penny less to his account.

The silence in the room stills. You strain your ears to listen to the sound of a faint clock ticking, Satoru’s steady breathing calming your nerves. His eyes are droopy and tired, and he lets out an exhausted sigh. Reaching over to pull the laptop away from him, you gently place your head above his beating heart. His shirt smells faintly of floral detergent, and you fist the fabric underneath your fingers.

He doesn’t say anything.

He doesn’t need to.

He places a soft kiss at the crown of your head, once, then twice, and a small smile fights through your face. The rhythmic thumping of his heart is just underneath your open palm, and you realize that Satoru is like the man-made river outside your house. He is calm, steady, always lulling you into a state of relaxation, and the music that is his love hums softly through your nerves until he places himself inside your heart.

The darkness of your room is a huge contrast to the flashing lights always directed his way, but it fits perfectly. Satoru is silent, even if he always brought attention to himself, and his muscles are firm underneath your touch.

His bicep curls around you to wrap you in a one arm embrace while his other hand rubs your back soothingly, and your bare thigh brushes against his groin. An innocent and accidental gesture, but it has your nerves firing up, and it just occurred to you how small you seem inside his arms. You found it funny, since Satoru could threaten to take away everything from you, yet you don’t feel like that around him. Here, you feel safe, warm, accepted.

You nuzzle closer to him with a frown.

“Take me somewhere.”

His chest vibrates with a hum, “Where do you want to go?”

“Take me to where your heart desires. Show me where you want to spend the rest of your life.”

Satoru can’t contain the smile that graces his face, and he holds your hand as you stare at Leiden in awe. He’s decided to take a one week break, and soon the two of you were nestled against each other in his private jet, and he’s not sure if he’s ever felt this happy before.

He learns that you love art and fancy medieval paintings the most, and you bounce happily when he takes you to one of the art museums.

Leiden is rich in history and culture, that much is evident with how the people still keep their traditions alive, and while it is still quite a popular city, the toned down bustling of people will always be a much preferred scene for him than Tokyo. The two of you have rented a bike to Noordwijk Beach, and you make him promise to swim with you there the next day. Wordlessly, he nods, basking in the way the warm light emitted from lampposts turns you into an ethereal being.

After returning the bikes into the rental shop, you swing your intertwined hands back and forth, pointing excitedly and exclaiming your delight at the lakes that surrounded the city.

A windmill sits in the middle of the city, and Satoru falls in love with the place even more. A smile is permanently etched into your face, and his heart manages to stutter even after being with you for so long, but he can’t help it. Lifting your interlocked hands to his lips, he kisses your palm, a fine pink dusting his cheeks as you stare at him incredulously. A moment passes before you giggle, leaning forward to kiss him on the cheek.

Satoru didn’t know it was possible to blush even harder.

His stomach growls in hunger and you chuckle, leading him to one of your restaurants. Your waiters and chefs greet you excitedly, surprised that the owner dropped by unannounced. You lift a hand to tell them not to worry – you’re not here to evaluate anything. You’re simply on vacation, and you had full trust in your people. The pleased look decorating the customer’s face said enough that you didn’t have much to worry about.

Shrugging off your coat and placing it on the back of your chair, Satoru watches as you place your head in your palms, eyes directed outside the window. Outside lay the lake and a bunch of canoes housing the body of water, old couples walking around with wines hidden in paper bags, and the soft chatter and melodious laughter ringing from every corner of the place has him believing that perhaps this is paradise.

“Have you ever been before?”

“Once,” he replies with a small smile. “I came here for business. That hotel is mine.”

He points to a building that resembles a medieval castle, and you adjust the glasses perched on your nose to see it better. “Why am I not surprised?”

Letting out an amused laugh at your question, the both of you soon dig into the dish, bellies rumbling in satisfaction. You are half drunk on the way back to the small villa you rented, and he doesn’t question why you didn’t choose to stay at his hotel instead. There’s a little tumble to your steps as you stagger forward, mumbling incoherent words. Satoru presses you closer to his warm body to prevent you from falling forwards, his eyes crinkling when you tell him how much you love him. His heart whines at your words, because you’ve never told him that, and even though you’re drunk, he thinks he will be as equally euphoric if you tell him sober. He actually feels a little ashamed you said it before him because he’s planning to tell you sooner than later, and he clears his throat before pulling away from you.

You frown at his action.

Licking his lips nervously, Satoru pulled out a velvet box and went down on one knee.

“I know you’re drunk and this ring is a little too expensive than you’d like, but I don’t think there’s a better time for this, and we’ve been dating for so long that I just wanted to let you know–”

Grumbling in annoyance under your breath as an attempt to conceal your shaking knees, you lean down and pull him harshly by his collar to press your lips against his.

Satoru stiffens underneath your touch. He stops breathing, eyes wide from surprise. You only pull away when he doesn’t respond, your glasses sliding off your nose and bumping into yours. He lifts a hand to his wet lips, looking at you like you’ve just assaulted him, and judging by how plump lips looked red and swollen, you probably did. Not that he’d complain, of course.

“Of course I’ll marry you.”

Satoru lets out a nervous laugh that is laced with elation, his breath coming out in cold fogs due to the cold weather. His hands are shaking as he struggles to wear the ring around your hand, to which you roll your eyes and wear it yourself. He looks sheepish for a moment, scratching the back of his head, but you can’t find yourself to care.

This is where you belong, with him, in Leiden, and little did you know that you were fulfilling his dreams one by one.

The both of you walk back home with bashful grins coated in glee.

Satoru feels stupid that he suddenly feels shy. It would be a lie to say he’s dreamt of this ever since he was a child because he grew up knowing very little of it. He’s never dated nor felt any attraction for someone, always focusing on his work and further expanding the business to the best of his abilities. He never dreamt marrying for love could be a possibility. That this was now his reality. And when you steal a peck to his cheek that makes his face heat up further, he realizes nothing has ever felt more right.

You’re the only one he would ever need.

To say that you’re ecstatic to plan the wedding would be an understatement. Ever since you came back to Tokyo with hearts overflowing with joy, you could no longer contain the love you had for your fiance. You’d been looking at endless articles of what makes a wedding perfect, and you already had your wedding dress in mind.

The food tasting appointment you had this weekend was on hold since Satoru still had a tight schedule, something about the launch of a new resort in Bali, but he comes back to you with tired eyes and a satisfied smile.

“Hey,” you greet, rising from the couch to help him with his bags. Not that you needed to, Mei-Mei and Toji were already taking care of them, but you still wanted to be of help. Shrugging off his coat, Satoru plops down the couch with a groan. “Long day?”

He pops one eye open to offer a languid smile, “Long week, babe. I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” you mumble, going behind him and massaging his stiff shoulders. Satoru lets out a moan at the sensation. And you? You can’t help but smile when you see that your engagement ring is still wound around his finger, and you wonder if the press had already noticed and started making a fuss about what you knew would be the wedding of the century.

Truth be told, you preferred the wedding to be small – with just your family and close friends. Satoru didn’t have any, but you respected his decision of hiring a wedding planner whose service cost a million. You protested at first, thinking it was unnecessary, but Satoru had already given you the check. The wedding planner seemed genuinely pleased to be working with you as well, leaving you with no other choice but to press your mouth into a thin line.

Ah, now that you think about it… “Are you free this Thursday? I wanted to introduce you to my parents.”

He stands up from the couch and walks to your shared bedroom, gently dragging you along with him. “Introduce me? Shouldn’t your parents already know me?”

You force a small smile as you bury yourself underneath the covers. “I meant formally, they’re going to be your parents soon, too.”

“Okay… talk to Mei-Mei to schedule that.”

You fight the urge to raise a brow. You couldn’t see the need to talk to his secretary to have time with your fiancé, but like you have been doing for the past few months, you only nod. Satoru wraps his arms around your waist after that, and it doesn’t take long before sleep blankets you both.

Somehow, you’d always known.

A relationship with Satoru wouldn’t be easy. There was too much unwanted attention and too little time to be with him. But he was worth the wait.

+

The food tasting went well. He ended up being more than pleased at your food choices, and you even bump your hips against his. Satoru wanted a cake that was two feet tall, with golden drapes hanging from the rods, silently demanding for caviar to be included. You shrugged it off, not minding his preferences as you continued speaking to the chef. The poor man had been trembling ever since Satoru walked in the kitchen, his phone pulled out and constantly interrupting the tasting as he speaks to his clients.

You felt bad for the old man, you really did. He was far more skilled than you, and you shook his hand politely before walking back to Satoru’s limousine.

It was finally time to meet your parents.

Reaching out for your fiancé, Satoru flicks your hand away. He shoots you an irritated look as he gestures to his phone, as if to say not to interrupt him during an important phone call. Reluctantly you retract your hand, biting the inside of your cheek as you let him go back to his business. Hurt and undeniably upset, you distract yourself with the small iPad on the seat in front of you, watching a lame show about fashion runways and whatnot.

“Yes, I know,” Satoru says through the phone, exasperated as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “What do you mean he can’t make it on time? He needs to be there to check the labels – you know what? Whatever, fire him, I’ll go there myself.”

Sensing his distress, you turn to him. He’s huffing and crossing his arms against his chest, a livid expression on his face. You don’t ask what happened because you know you won’t understand. You’re only happy Satoru finally lets you hold his hand. Pressing his head against the seat, Satoru squeezes your palm, watching as the familiar buildings of the city soon blur into a scenery of corn fields and flowery land.

To be truthful, you think he’s a little too overdressed for this occasion. He’s wearing the latest Burberry collection, the shades he’d pulled to shield his sensitive eyes from the sunset a little too… flashy. But, you thought to yourself, Satoru could do whatever he wanted.

Finally, after a long and grueling car ride that seemed to last forever, you reached your destination.

You immediately run to the farmhouse, leaving behind Satoru in your excitement. You’d been away from your parents too long that you missed them dearly. Behind you, Satoru tries to keep up his face – gladly welcoming the fresh air. From afar, the door to your house opens as you tackle a small, older woman into your arms.

Satoru’s gait is slow, precise, and elegant. He walked with purpose, standing behind you silently as he witnessed the sweet exchange between you and your mother. It’s then he notices, when your mother looks up from your shoulders, that her eyes twinkled the same you did whenever you saw him. She’s sweet, and a little too bubbly, as she welcomes him to your humble home.

And as if you’ve sensed his uneasiness, you look back to Satoru and offer an encouraging smile.

The entirety of your house is as large as his bathroom. And your couch squeaks uncomfortably when he sits on it. The leather is tattered and foam springs out from the little cracks and you almost look embarrassed, but he kisses your cheek to reassure you he doesn’t mind. Your father soon emerges from the kitchen holding a fresh pot of tea that he offers, and Satoru takes a hesitant sip – your family anxiously gauging his reaction.

The tea… It was actually sweet and better than anything he’s ever had, and when his cheeks start to warm from the attention, you all start laughing for no reason.

Satoru joins in the laughter. He doesn’t know why he did when he found nothing funny, but felt that it was the most appropriate reaction.

It was no wonder then that you were such an amazing chef. You must’ve inherited it from your father’s impeccable cooking skills. The stew he prepared was amazing, and Satoru had to control himself from slurping the beef stew – it tasted that good. Dinner was absolutely amazing, and you kept laughing and smiling from your seat as you conversed with your parents. Satoru doesn’t think he’s ever seen you this happy.

The baby pink turtleneck sweater you wore highlighted the softness of your heart, and even a blind man could see you really missed your parents. He felt like a stranger then; someone who watched from the outside as your mother reaches over the table to wipe a rice grain from the corner of your mouth. You whine at her gesture, obviously not wanting to be treated like a little kid.

“Mum, that’s embarrassing. I’m with the love of my life, you know,”

He almost chokes at his spoon when you say that, and your mother grins at him. “I wouldn’t worry about that, my dear, it looks like he really loves you no matter what.”

“Yes, Mother,” he agrees, squeezing your thighs from under the table, “I really do.”

There was a warmth in your home that he’d never known, and laughter was always present. Much like you, your father was a man of few words and passed out on the couch after three bottles of soju, leaving you and your mom to clean up after dinner.

Satoru offered to help, only to receive amused glances as if you knew he couldn’t do it. Embarrassed, he excused himself as you cleaned up, and sat on the curb outside your house.

From his peripheral vision, he could see Toji beside the car, standing tall and straight. The cold breeze from the countryside made his dark hair blow across the wind. As if feeling there were eyes on him, Toji peered at Satoru, nodding politely before looking straight ahead. His suit was Giorgo Armani, the one he’d gifted him on his birthday last year. He’s well-aware that Toji ended up making more money driving for him than you ever could with your restaurant.

And this was his reality. This was his world.

Someone like Satoru shouldn’t be sitting on the molded curb of a farmhouse with nothing but mountain and hills surrounding him. The moon and the stars were the only things that gave light to the field, and it was too humble for his liking. He didn’t belong here – that much was clear – and even the scarecrow standing a few feet away from him seemed to agree with its mocking glare.

Much too soon for his liking, Satoru feels a wool sweater being wrapped around his shoulders. He turns to you, a smile already on your face as you plopped down beside him. Playing with your fingers, you keep your gaze down at your feet, hesitant and nervous.

“Satoru… I know you won’t like it, but I’d like to wear my Mom’s wedding dress. It’s fine if you say no, I know you had Vera Wang make an entire collection for me already, but I thought I had to let you know…”

Satoru starts to play with the straw in front of him. He sighs, fiddling his smooth fingers around it before he clutches your hand in his lap. He’d held you a thousand times before, and yet he couldn’t remember if your skin was rough or smooth – only that it felt warm and he liked holding it. And as if he couldn’t help himself, his gaze studied you – how your boots are a little too big on your feet, and you smelled faintly of hay unlike the Maison Francis Kurkdjian perfume he’d gotten you. It was limited edition, too, and he’d had to pull strings just to get you one.

And you couldn’t even wear it for tonight.

An almost choked sob leaves his throat, his heart clenching uncomfortably. He did want you to wear your mother’s wedding dress. Being here, away from the press and businessmen who always tried to mess up his deals when he worked honestly, made him feel like for once – he was a normal human being. That he wasn’t some god whose footsteps were worshipped.

Your mother had welcomed him warmly, and she didn’t even gush about the expensive fabrics of his clothes. She saw him as if he was her own son, and he supposed soon enough he would be, but would he be good enough? She’d raised her daughter as a warm, loving, and humble person. You were down to earth and loved to stay solid and grounded – Satoru was a man who always reached for the stars.

What did that make you then? His fall from the heavens?

Satoru wonders how much of his thoughts were written on his face. You watched him, brows dipped downwards with a clenched jaw. He knows you’re fighting back something to say.  He was too familiar with that look – since Mei-Mei always looked like that. The type of expression etched into his employees’ faces when he shouted at them for their incompetence, and they felt the need to defend themselves. They never did, out of fear Satoru would fire them.

Although you never said it, your face said it all.

He remembers the longing gazes you had to the farmhouses in Leiden with its windmill barns, or how your smile got bigger when a cute kid walked by and waved at you both. You don’t need to say anything because he knows what you’re thinking – that you’re blinded by your love for him.

He still remembers that damned event when your grip on his cat got a little tighter, how your hairline beaded with sweat as you kept fidgeting. You’d been uncomfortable that night, as you always did when you were in his world. You weren’t like this – placid, unreserved, happy.

And now he’s in your world. The words bubble up in your throat, wanting to wipe that disappointed look in his handsome face. You knew even if you say it now, Satoru wouldn’t listen or understand. And it’s funny – how he asked you to marry him, and how willing you were to give up on your dreams if it meant being with him. Even if it meant throwing yourself into unwanted attention, only to be criticized mercilessly – because that’s what it took to be with him.

He was a man with an empire, but with it came the price of being someone who destroyed others.

Somehow, it never crossed your mind it might include you, too.

“You’re right,” he says after a moment, “I would rather you wear Vera Wang’s gown. I hope you don’t find any offense in it, but our wedding will be the wedding of the century. I can’t have you wearing a nameless gown when the whole world will be looking.”

Your grip on his hand tightens for a second before it loosens. Satoru watches, with a heavy heart and an aching soul, as you nod slowly. Forcing a smile on your face, you stood up and walked away from him. You bid your farewells soon after that, with Satoru cringing the moment your parents began to refer to him as their ‘son.’

The whole ride back home is silent.

You’re passed out on his side, your soft snores filling the silence. Satoru reaches over to caress your cheek before leaning back in his seat, clenching his teeth hard to stop the tears from falling. He couldn’t put it into words – the air of finality settling over you once you reach his penthouse.

You’re exhausted from the day, stripping your clothes off before burying yourself under the covers. Your arm seeks out the familiar feeling of having him close next to you, and he indulges you, burying his face against the crook of your neck one more time – one last time. When you mumble his name in your sleep, Satoru swallows the lump forming on his throat, biting down on his lip before gazing at you – knowing you’d been his, knowing he’d miss this. Miss you.

And perhaps that’s what hurts the most – that he’s already missing you when you’re pressed up next to him, that he’s already mourning the presence of someone who he hasn’t lost yet.

But he knew, the end was inevitably near.

So he kisses you, long and hard enough that it hopes it leaves an imprint. You’re unaware of it all, still deep in your slumber even when his eyes betray him and a tear falls. The teardrop lands on your cheek before it slides down your jaw.

Above you, Satoru’s shoulders are shaking and he wants to laugh – because he’s never cried before. He’s never cried when his own friends tried to sabotage him. He’s never cried when the whole world called him a heartless demon walking in the body a wannabe man. He never cried when the world misunderstood him, yet here he was, perfectly content being in your arms, even if he doesn’t deserve it.

For once in his life, Satoru wanted to do what was right. If he couldn’t stop himself from ruining things and hurting those around him, then perhaps this time around he could prevent the only good thing to ever happen to him from shattering.

No amount of money would be able to give you what you truly wanted, and that’s all he had. Satoru had nothing but money, had nothing but it to offer aside from giving you back your freedom. He may be the one that you loved, and for that he would always be grateful, but he was also old enough to know that sometimes, love simply wasn’t enough. You had your own world, and Satoru had the entire universe.

The only world where the two of you could live happily was the one you spent apart from each other.

Unwrapping his arm around yours, Satoru silently trudges to the bedside table to wear his coat and shoes. Giving you one last glance, he takes off his engagement ring, and places it beside the framed photo of you and him in Leiden – this time with no flashing lights.

[mountainsandmayhem]

BDSMaid - Chapter 2

Masterlist || AO3

Pairing: Millionaire Joel Miller x Female Reader Series Summary: 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.  Chapter Summary: Try as he might, Joel just can’t shake the memory of you. Try as you might, you can’t stop thinking of the woman tied to his desk. CW: The slow burn is burning. Mentions of death and underage drinking. Topless in public, this is a love story about BDSM after all. Reader does have some physical descriptions, so maybe more of an OFC, or just pretend you have pouty lips and a slightly upturned nose. Double POV (reader and Joel). AN: Thank you SO FUCKING MUCH for all the love on chapter one of this story. I literally cannot believe it surpasses 1000 notes in just a month, you're all insane and I love you. Dividers by @saradika-graphics. Biiiig shout outs to the bb's who have been so supportive of me spiralling and panicking this last month over the next chapter. I'd be in a deep dark cave without you @mermaidgirl30 @littlevenicebitch69 @lotusbxtch @evolnoomym @joelmillerisapunk and @milla-frenchy . Thank you! I feel like I'm giving some sort of Oscars speech and if you're still reading this, you're the real MVP. XO Word Count: 8.5k

~ Joel - 27 Years Ago ~

Joel’s stands in the garage of someone he barely knows, surrounded by drunk and rowdy classmates from his high school. He’s a senior, graduating in just a few weeks and moments like this are one of the perks of being the star designated hitter and first baseman, everyone wants you at their party. Someone hands him a warm, flat beer that was pumped poorly from a keg as they pat his back roughly in congratulations. Joel’s not sure how a bunch of seventeen year olds managed to get a keg, most likely an older brother, but he drinks the shitty beer all the same. Speaking of brothers, he hasn’t seen Tommy in a while. He’s only fifteen and he promised their mom he’d keep an eye on him. The younger Miller shouldn’t be at a seniors party, but that's where those perks come in again, because if Joel was good, Tommy was better. In fact, he was so much better that he’s played up a whole age group his entire life, always right beside Joel. Tommy was the back catcher, and tonight he got the eleventh inning game winning out at home for them to win the state championship. 

He finds Tommy chatting with a group of girls, all of whom are incredibly beautiful. They’re going to be very disappointed when they find out how much younger he is than them. Joel smiles into his red solo cup as he takes a sip of stale beer. He tucks his free hand into the pocket of his light blue wranglers and walks over to the wall of the garage. He leans back and crosses one cowboy booted foot over the other. The brim of his cowboy hat grazes the unpainted drywall behind him. Texas, and the country, in the late nineties was where everyone wanted to be, and Joel Miller could have been the poster boys for teenage country boys in 1997.

Brooks & Dunn plays on someone's CD player in the corner, laughter and people talking overlaps until it’s just noise to Joel. He stands back, watching his younger brother effortlessly charm the five pretty girls around him. All of them in tight blue jeans, lacy white tops, denim vests and cowboy boots. He grabs one by the hand and Joel overhears, “I’ll teach ya how to two step, shame to not know in a place like this.” Then the motherfucker winks at her like he’s some sort of cowboy Casanova. Joel lets out a silent laugh through his nose and sips the beer again shaking his head. 

Just as Tommy pulls the pretty little blonde over towards the unmarked and unofficial dance floor in the corner of the garage the song changes. Slow guitar, followed by the unmistakable twang of Tim Magraw’s voice. Joel didn’t know it then, but that song would change the course of his life and intertwine itself in the very fabric of his being.

‘Dancin’ in the dark, Middle of the night’

That’s when he sees her, tall and slender, deep olive toned skin and pale green eyes. Her dark curly hair cascades over one of her shoulders. She’s laughing with another classmate, and even though he can’t hear the sound of it over the noise of the party, he can tell it’s a light and melodic sound, and he wants to spend the rest of his life drawing that out of her. 

‘Takin’ your heart, An holdin’ it tight’

He puts his warm beer on the work bench beside him and takes off his black felt Stetson, placing it over his broad chest, hoping the comfort of his favourite hat would slow the rate at which his heart is beating. 

‘Emotional touch, Touchin’ my skin, And askin’ you to do, What you’ve been doin’ all over again’

She looks over at him, smiling shyly, and before he knows what he’s doing he’s walking over to her. His legs move on their own accord, knees shaking as he approaches the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen.

‘Oh, it’s a beautiful thing, Don’t think I can keep it all in, I just gotta let you know, What is that won’t let me go’

Everything in the room fades as she fully comes into view. Beautiful doesn’t even begin to describe the girl in front of him. She radiates a warmth that he’s only ever known his mother to radiate. It’s the first time he’s ever seen this girl, but she feels like home. This is it, that one thing that everyone says you’re supposed to feel. The thing his grandpa told him when he was younger, “Son, you’ll just know. It sounds ridiculous, but when I saw your grandma it was like a pull behind my belly button. I just knew, and I’ve known everyday since then.”

“Howdy, ma’am,” Joel says, tipping his hat to her before placing it back on his head. 

She giggles, confirming his earlier thoughts. It really is the sweetest fucking sound he’s ever heard. “Hi.”

He holds out a hand to her and she takes it, her skin is so warm and smooth. In that moment he knows that hers will be the last hand he ever holds. Fire flushes through his veins as he continues, “I’m Joel, what’s your name?”

“Oh, I know who you are Joel Miller,” she flirts, not letting go of his hand. “I’m Tiffany.”

“Tiffany,” he repeats, his voice going deeper as he says it. It’s egotistical but he loves the way girls shiver just a little when he lowers his register. “And how is it that you know who I am?”

She slides her hand from his and reaches up to grab his cowboy hat, plopping it onto her head. “Star first baseman and designated hitter, everyone knows Joel Miller. Look around, look at all these girls lookin’ at you, cowboy.”

For the first time in his life Joel finds himself blushing, but he doesn’t take his eyes off Tiffany. 

“I only see one girl.” She rolls her eyes and swats at his bicep at the cheesy line, but that was it for both of them. From that point they were inseparable. 

They both turned eighteen a few months later, and just ten months, and a thirty two hour labour after Tiff turned eighteen, a tiny little Sarah came into the world all pink and screaming. Joel hears that song again as he watches Tiffany hold that little bundle of blankets, ‘Better than I was, More than I am, And all of this happened, By taking your hand.’

They get married when Sarah is just a few months old. Both his beautiful curly haired girls in white dresses, Tiffany grabbing that same black Stetson off his head during their first dance. He holds them both, swaying from side to side, a hot tear rolling down his cheek at how goddamn happy he is. ‘And who I am now, Is who I wanted to be, And now that we’re together, I’m stronger than ever, I’m happy and free’.

Things for their little family of three are perfect. They buy the house with the white picket fence and the wrap around porch. Joel gets a job working construction and enjoys a nightcap with his beautiful young wife on their front porch every night. They make love often, slow and sweaty, Joel worshiping her soft copper toned skin inch by glorious inch. Tiffany wraps every minute of her day around Sarah and being a sweet, devoted housewife. Nothing seems to stand in their way. Until the diagnosis shortly before Sarah starts Kindergarten. 

Tiffany is too young, they’re all too young. This isn’t something that happens to people their age, they haven’t had enough time. Joel spends the next few months in a haze, it has to be a bad dream. The appointments, the treatments, the call to 911 when the illness starts to win. This isn’t how it was supposed to go. 

He holds Tiffany until the very end. Sponging a soft kiss to her forehead, whispering his goodbyes as they shut off the machines keeping her here. “You’ve been so strong, my love. You fought so hard. I know you’re scared to go, I’m scared too, but we’ll do it like we do everything else. Together. I’ll be ok, Sarah will be ok. Just rest now. I love you.” 

As she takes her last shaky and shallow breath, a sound will live with him until he takes a breath that matches hers, that song echoes through his hollow chest. ‘It’s your love, It does something to me, It sends a shock right through me, I can’t get enough’.

You - Present Day

You roll to a stop outside Mister Miller’s house for your second day of cleaning. As you look towards the impressive house your pussy flutters at the memories of yesterday - the almost pornographic noises that were made in that office, his soft and kind eyes as he apologized profusely in the kitchen. You were supposed to go to a study group last night, but instead you got lost in a rabbit hole of porn where women are tied up and fingered. You got yourself off four times thinking about a man you’re not even supposed to know, wishing it was his thick fingers hitting that spot inside of you that you can’t reach on your own. You felt guilty about it last night and now being back in his home you have that same sinking feeling again. 

Stupid. Sacrificing my future for a fantasy. Never again. 

You let yourself in the house and look at the list in your cleaning app. You pop in your AirPods and start listening to your favourite true crime podcast; thankful for the new episode, a gruesome distraction as you scrub baseboards and lightswitches. The episode ends and in an attempt to not let your mind wander to the gorgeous man that lives here, and the depraved new things you’ve discovered about yourself, you start an educational audiobook about civil rights law. You might want Joel Miller to strap you down and whisper filth in your ears, but you are a good person, and your aspiration in life is to help people who face discrimination on a daily basis. 

You breeze around his home, checking off each task and before you know it it’s almost one in the afternoon. You have almost your whole list complete, his soft sheets are in the dryer (and yes, you are incredibly proud of yourself for only putting the luxurious white fabric to your face twice on the way to the washer). You only have the patio furniture to spray down and the kitchen counters to wipe. That’s when your stomach growls, almost as if to remind you that it’s the perfect time to take a break while the dryer finishes. You haul all your stuff out to your car and lock up, sitting in your front seat as you take out your lunch container.

An engine revs in the distance and your heart skips in your chest. Before you even have time to wonder if it’s Joel’s car, one of the black garage doors slides open and Joel’s obsidian coloured Aston Martin rolls by you, stopping with precision on the shiny cement floor of the garage. You avert your eyes, focused on your container of chicken noodle soup. The left side of your face feels the warmth of his gaze fixed on you. Without looking over you can tell he is studying you and it takes everything you have to keep your eyes on your measly lunch. 

The afternoon sun is blocked as Joel raps his knuckles on your window. You glance over at him, looking up through your lashes. He’s looking at you intensely but you can’t quite place his expression. As always, his deep brown eyes are locked on yours, he could either be happy to see you or incredibly disappointed in you. But one thing is for sure, he’s calculating your every need with those warm and inviting eyes. He knocks again so you crank the handle to roll your window down a crack.

He raises one eyebrow at you, both hands rest on the roof of your SUV as he leans forward to speak to you through the small opening in the window. “Seriously?” His voice is laced with sarcasm. 

“What?” You say, “Can’t be too safe.”

He blinks at you before continuing, “What'd ya doin’ out here?”

You lift your tupperware container a little, willing the tingles between your thighs to stop, “Eating my lunch.”

He rolls his eyes, running his hand along his greying scruff. “You’re eatin’ lukewarm soup in your car in the middle of February.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement, but his voice is warm and curious, and you start to realize that the look on his face isn’t happiness or disappointment, but concern. 

You nod, “Yes.” His eyes dance around your face and you swear your heart is beating as fast as a hummingbird’s wings. Fluttering so fast that it’s traveling up your throat and you wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear it. 

“Get out of the car. Come warm that up and eat inside.” His voice is thick with concern, entire face soft as he looks at you. 

You swallow your heart back down to where it belongs, “I’m not allowed to do that, Mister Miller.”

His cheeks redden a little and some of the softness in him disappears, “Don’t call me that, it’s jus’ Joel to you.”

“I’m not even supposed to know your name, Mister Miller. I can’t call you by your first name.”

He shifts his weight onto one foot and points a thick finger at you through your window, “Don’t. Either you call me Joel or nothin’ at all. Come inside,” he drops his pointer finger to the door handle. He pulls on it to find it locked. “Seriously?”

“I told you, I can’t be too safe!” You can help but think how cute he looks all flustered - shaking his head at you for being cautious in a neighborhood where you could probably scream your credit card number and no one would use it. If anything, the wealthy homeowners on this street might transfer you money when they see the state of your vehicle. 

“You’re eatin’ inside.” He says flatly. 

“I told you, I can’t. We aren’t allowed to do that. You’re a client, Mist - I mean. Sorry, I just can’t. We aren’t allowed.” You glance towards the clock on your dash. At this rate your break is going to be over before you finish eating. 

He jiggles the door handle again, as if he can convince the metal to bend and unlatch itself with just his sexiness alone. “You like rules, don’t ya?”

He’s got you there, you do enjoy following the rules. You nod and hum a noise in agreement. 

“Unlock the door, please,” his voice has changed, he’s being more commanding now. A deeper, huskier sound leaving his lips. The sound seems to latch onto something deep in your mind, strong fingers wrapping around the control center of your brain, guiding you to do his bidding. You blink the feeling away. 

“Mister-,” his eyes flash with darkness, “Sorry. I can’t. It wouldn’t be right to eat in your house, plus my break is almost over.”

Joel releases your door handle, raising his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose and lets out a breath, as he drops his hand back to the top of your vehicle an amused smirk flashes across his face. “Do you consider yourself to work in customer service?”

“Yes,” you say nervously.

“And isn’t the main rule of customer service that the customer is always right?” His lips form a tight line and a deep dimple carves into one of his tanned cheeks. Your brain flashes back to one of the videos you watched last night, a man sucking on a woman's nipples as he rubbed her clit, her arms and legs strapped to a padded table. He had a dimple, but he had nothing on Joel. 

“Yes,” you croak and then clear your throat gently, shifting in your seat at the fire building behind that bundle of nerves between your thighs. 

“Then unlock the door, darlin’ and eat inside.” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, turning and walking towards the house. He stops on the front step, opening the large glass front door. You follow, flip flops slapping on the concrete, carrying your powdered chicken noodle soup and plastic spoon up towards his fancy home. When you reach the threshold, he holds out his large hand palm up and you place the old, stained tupperware with your half eaten soup into it. He looks down at it and then back at you, eyes trailing along your body and it feels like he’s running a torch over you. “Is this all you have to eat?”

You nod, giving him a tight lipped smile. 

He cocks his head towards the kitchen and one pushed back curl that’s laced with a few greys falls into his eyes with the movement. In order to stop from pushing his loose curl back you squeeze your fists gently and head towards the stool you sat on yesterday. As your flip flop hits the tile you stop and look back towards your car nervously. “I, umm, I forgot my shoes.”

His large, warm palm comes to your lower back and he pushes you gently towards the kitchen. You sit as he transfers your soup into a matte black bowl and places it in the microwave. He opens a cupboard and pulls out a loaf of fresh bread, as you go to protest he flicks his eyes up to yours and something about the expression on his face tells you not to argue with him. He pops the two carefully cut pieces into the toaster. He breezes effortlessly around the kitchen for someone so broad and masculine. You didn’t realize someone making toast could be so sexy. The microwave beeps and he grabs a gold spoon from a drawer before wandering around the island, placing them both in front of you. His arm brushes yours as he pulls away and your heart flutters at his touch. He walks back around the kitchen island and grabs a glass. 

“Still or sparkling?” He says as if that’s just a normal question to ask when you get someone a glass of water. Just another thing that proves you don’t belong here. The toaster pops and you jump a little. He chuckles as he grabs the toast, slathering it with butter. “Still or sparkling, darlin’?” 

You breath hitches, he’s called you darlin’ twice now. Is that just that southern charm you hear about so often, or is it more? You shake the thought from your head, there’s no way someone like him is interested in someone like you. “Still is fine, you don’t have to trouble yourself.” 

You take a spoonful of soup, blowing on it gently before putting the spoon in your mouth. Joel is watching you in the same way he was yesterday. Assessing. Observing. Calculating. It feels like he’s looking into your very soul. He slides the plate of toast and then a glass of sparkling water over to you from across the island.

“Thank you,” you say quietly. “You didn’t -”

He holds his hand up, stopping you in the same way he did yesterday. “I wanted to.”

You feel your cheeks redden and you have to look away as you take a bite of toast. He’s too handsome standing in the kitchen with the afternoon sun highlighting his features. He’s wearing a black dress shirt today, the top few buttons undone, accentuating the perfectly groomed salt and pepper hair on his chest. You swallow your bite of warm, salty, buttery toast, allowing your eyes to flutter closed at the delectable flavour, holding back a moan. 

Joel clears his throat and crosses his arms across his broad chest, “So how did ya get into cleanin’ houses?”

You look up at him through your lashes. Why is he being so nice to you and taking care of you? He apologized yesterday. And after you told him it was fine he left you a massive tip. He said he wants to do this, but why? He’s rich and handsome and you can probably safely assume that that icy blonde from yesterday was his girlfriend. Unless…could she possibly be a mistress? You decide that that must be it. She’s his mistress. He has a wife. He’s just like every other rich man, cheating on his beautiful and age appropriate wife with someone much much younger than him. He’s probably terrified that you might find out who his wife is and tell her. That tip was hush money.

“I’m saving money,” you say and then shake your head, willing the thoughts in your mind to calm down. “For law school.”

“That right?” He says, raising an eyebrow at you as you take another spoonful of soup.

“Yes, I want to be a lawyer. I graduated a semester early and needed some money before going back to university. Assuming I even get accepted. This job meant I could work part time so I could study to take the LSAT again and also make good money.” You take another bite of the toast, mainly to make yourself shut up. 

He watches you the entire time, nodding along, his eyes constantly assessing. “Take the LSAT again?” he asks.

“I passed it already and applied to schools but I haven’t heard back yet. Law school is pretty competitive, so I’m going to take it again and hopefully have a better mark for the next round of college applications.” You’re talking too much, you need to shut up and just eat, but Joel doesn’t flinch, doesn’t look away. No one has ever listened to you like that, not even your parents.

“Next round?” He asks curiously. 

You feel your cheeks redden. You don’t want to admit to this obviously successful man in front of you that you probably won’t get accepted to any of the eight universities you applied to. “Yes. It’s competitive, and I probably won’t get in. So I’m preparing to be better the second time.”

“Where did you apply? If that’s not too forward of a question.”

“No, not too forward. Umm, a few places. Strength in numbers, I guess. Harvard, Yale, Columbia, Berkeley, Duke, University of Toronto, but I don’t think I’d survive a Canadian winter. I also applied at Notre Dame and University of Texas here in Austin.”

Joel laughs at you mentioning the Canadian winter and once you’re quiet, he looks down at his expensive dress shoes, “I, umm, I know some higher ups at UT Austin if you need me to put in a good word.”

You smile at him when he looks back up at you, “I don’t think that’s quite how it works, Joel. But thank you.”

The two of you are silent for a moment while you finish your first piece of toast. You glance up at him and he’s looking at you with that same hint of pride he had yesterday while you drank your water. He’s making you feel like eating toast is something to be proud of. You can’t explain it but his facial expression wraps around like a corset. Pulling its metaphoric laces and making you sit up taller, holding your head up higher. With just the shimmer in his deep brown eyes you feel like you could take on the world. You need to break the silence so you say, “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” he says, leaning back to rest on the countertop behind him. His arms uncross, his strong hands wrapping around the countertop on each side of his body. 

“What do you do for a living? To have all this?” You gesture around the house as you sip your sparkling water.

“A few things. I used to own a construction company, sold it a few years ago to retire but I got bored pretty quickly. Now I own a few properties, I rent them out.” You nod as you listen to him, eating your lunch. One hand rubs at his patchy, salt and pepper beard nervously before saying, “I also own a club.”

You let out a little giggle into your water glass, immediately praying that he doesn’t think that was you being rude. Of all the professions that could have come out of his mouth, owning a nightclub was the last thing you expected. Joel smiles at the sweet melodic sound leaving your lips and relief washes over you. “Why’s that so funny?” His voice is light at his inquiry. 

“It’s not,” you say after swallowing your water. He furrows his brows at you. “You just - I mean, I guess I don’t know you, but don’t seem like the nightclub type.”

“You’re right, you don’t know me. But you’re also right that I am not a nightclub type,” he states. Something about the way he says it makes you sense that that’s as far as you’re going to get with it, but you also realize that the club is probably how this man meets young women to bring home.

You put your spoon down and place your hands in your lap. “Can I umm, ask you something else?”

“Of course,” he repeats. 

“What’s with that little dinosaur toy on your coffee maker?”

He smiles and reaches over to grab it, rubbing his thumb along the faded and scuffed brown paint of the little toy. He looks down at it and a hint of sadness seems to fill his coffee and amber eyes as he looks at you. “My daughter, she umm, she got it for me from the prize box in Kindergarten after her mom -” he stops mid sentence, sadness lining his features. Joel’s not married, you roll your eyes at yourself internally for thinking the worst of him. And truthfully, you of all people know he’s not married. You clean his house, you’ve been in his bedroom, and there are no women's clothes. You’ve also been in all the spare bedrooms and there’s no chance another person lives here with him. He continues, choosing his words almost carefully, “Well, just after she was gone.”

“I’m sorry, Mister,” his eyes flash onyx for just a second, he looks lethally sexy and you swallow your words before starting again. “I’m sorry, Joel.”

“It was a long time ago,” he says, placing the dinosaur back. He runs his fingers through his salt and pepper curls, letting out a little sigh. There’s a shift in him, like suddenly the world is heavier. He tries not to let it show, and maybe most people wouldn’t notice, but you see it. The slight fall in his face, a little slump in the shoulders, a breath held for just a second too long. He clears his throat gently and says, “I’ll be in my office. Eat your lunch for me, please.”

Joel

Joel closes the door of his office and rests his forehead against the smooth wooden surface. He can’t remember how much he spent on these doors when he built the house, but he would set any door that separated him from you on fire if he had to. 

Get it together, Joel.

He closes his eyes and only sees you. The way your glossy, pink lips formed a little O as you blew on your soup. The way the gold plated metal spoon slid softly along your tongue. His cock twitches in his pants and he feels the urge to throw all the spoons in his house away. 

Great, you’re jealous of a spoon. 

He shouldn’t be home. He signed a contract, and more importantly, you signed a contract. In order to protect him and you there is to be no contact between the cleaner and the client. That’s what you consented to when you took your job at Maid Discreetly, and now he’s caused you to break that contract not once, but twice. But he cannot seem to get you out of his mind, and as he sat in a meeting at his club he couldn’t focus. You were here, cleaning his home in that form fitting white polo shirt and those black pants that hugged at your hips in all the right places, and he just had to know if you were as beautiful as he remembered. Just a quick peek, he convinced himself as he made up some bullshit excuse to leave. 

When he saw you sitting in your rusty SUV you looked so innocent and pure, you were more than beautiful. The afternoon sun lighting up your high cheekbones and slender, slightly upturned nose, it gave you an almost angelic glow that temporarily took his breath away. If he had to describe you in two words he would say that you were simply ravishing. For the first time in almost thirty years he wished he still had the calming comfort of that black felt cowboy hat. But that soft Stetson went with her because she loved it so much. 

As he caught his breath and looked at you from his garage, he was overcome with an urge to bruise and corrupt you. He’s a bad man for the thoughts he's been having about you. He can’t help himself, but even in his most twisted of fantasies, he’d never do anything you didn’t want him to. But, fuck, he’s sure he could mold you into exactly what he wants in a submissive. 

Joel isn’t new to the world of kink; he’s had many subs, all of whom have referred to him as Mister Miller. However, his name has never sounded so fucking sweet as it did coming off your lips. Those two little words leaving your pouty, pink lips feel like that first sip of whiskey after a long day, and it might kill him if he doesn’t make you his. 

He sighs into the white wood of the door before standing and walking to sit behind his desk. He drops into the soft leather chair and lets his head fall back onto the headrest and closes his eyes. What is it about you? Why can’t he stop thinking about you? You’re way too young. Way too sweet. Way too…sinless. And even though he can’t explain it, and he knows you don’t know it, you’re way too “exactly-what-is-going-to-ruin-his-entire-life”. 

You’re not someone he can just play with. No, he’s good at reading people, and you’re the kind of person that deserves being invested into. You’re also not someone who is going to stick around. You have dreams and well laid out plans on how you’re going to achieve them. He can’t cage you in, he’ll have to let you spread your wings and fly no matter how much he sees himself as the man he used to be reflected back in your eyes.  

He opens his eyes and pictures you kneeling in the corner, perfectly manicured hands that he pays for you to have done weekly folded on your lap as he works. He imagines calling you over with a curl of his fingers, you crawling across the plush carpet and resting your head on his lap as he responds to emails, takes calls, or plans events. He could reach down and run his fingers through your soft, silky hair as you nuzzled deeper into his lap with your cheek. “My perfect, sweet girl,” he’d hum.  

His body falls forward, forehead hitting the sturdy wooden desk with a thump. Jesus Christ, Joel. 

It was one thing when he only found you beautiful - he could live with being attracted to you, he could find a way around it or stuff that attraction down, maybe he’d find a new sub to distract himself with. That would be easy for him, but then you had to open your mouth, you had to speak so passionately about your future. Why couldn’t you just be pretty like all the other women he plays with? You might be one of the most driven people he knows: the way you push yourself, already planning for the next “no”. And that kills him, ruins him really that you are programmed to think there will automatically be a “no” and that you’ll have to endure another round of LSAT’s and college applications. You’re smart, and he wants to kill whoever made you feel like you need to push yourself this hard. 

His phone vibrates in his pocket; annoyance courses through his body until he sees his brother's name across the pristine screen of his newest iPhone Max. 

“Ya?” He says harshly. 

“Everything ok with the alarm?” 

Joel’s mind goes blank, “What?” 

Tommy is silent for a second before he responds slowly, “The alarm? You left in the middle of a meeting because of an alarm.” 

Joel shakes his head. Right, the alarm. The bullshit excuse he made up so he could leave to see you. “Ya, right. Ya, it’s fine. Got it all, umm, all fixed up. Should be back soon.”

“You ok, brother?” Tommy asks suspiciously. “You seemed, I dunno, distracted today.” 

“I’m fine,” Joel snaps. 

“Alright. Well, come back soon, pretty big night here and we need ya.” 

Joel hangs up without saying goodbye. He’s the owner, he knows it’s a big night, but he’s sort of busy having an existential crisis over possibly being in love with his house cleaner. Whoa, in love? Pump the fucking brakes. Joel’s heart stops beating for a second at the thought of it. He can’t possibly be in love; he doesn’t fall in love. No, he decides, it’s just because she’s new, and exactly my type, and it’s been a long time since I found someone that’s my type.

Just as he stands from his desk, he hears the hose outside turn on. You must be at the pool furniture part of your list. He takes this moment to sneak out of his own house, because he’s a weak man when it comes to you, apparently. He slips into the Italian leather front seat and lets the new car smell waft over him; he loves the smells of a new sports car and has never owned one long enough for it to stop smelling that way. It’s a matter of status to him. He takes a good hard look at himself in the rear view mirror. That’s enough now. For both of your sakes. Leave her alone. 

You 

After spraying down the pool furniture you rush inside to warm up. Seriously, who needs their pool stuff cleaned in the fucking winter? As you jog up the stairs to grab Joel’s freshly laundered sheets, you blow into your cupped palms. The warmth spreads from your frozen fingertips to your palms. Joel’s office is empty; he must have left while you were outside. Your brain swirls with unanswered questions as you pull the fitted sheet back onto his king size bed. Why would he come home? First of all, he knows you’re here this time and second of all, he knows he’s not supposed to be here. So why? And then there’s his calculating stare, always watching and usually with a flash of pride in his features. Did he come back here just to talk to you? Maybe even to get to know you? 

It’s safe to say that you’re more confused than ever, and you make a mental schedule of studying and reading to keep you busy later tonight so you won’t spend hours trying to google him again.

It takes way too much effort, and a silent promise to yourself to get back to the gym, but you manage to wrestle the oversized duvet back into its cover just as three o’clock rolls around. You jog down the wide, open staircase and your phone bings in your back pocket. Jamie’s name is splayed across your cracked screen, the sunset from your last trip to California shining back at you. 

What are you doing tonight? Want to make a bunch of money serving drinks topless?

You laugh to yourself. Truthfully, nothing Jamie asks you seems to surprise you, and some sort of odd job where you’re topless or in a sexy outfit is practically a guarantee as a condition of your friendship. As you reach for the black envelope on the kitchen island you text back. 

What?

You barely have the thick parchment of the envelope open when she responds, like she already had the text locked and loaded and was just waiting for you to try to fight her on it.  

Remember Laren? My cousin? She has a topless catering company and needs help tonight. It’s at some exclusive VIP poker game downtown. 4 hours, $300 + tips.

You respond as a thousand dollars falls out of the tip envelope. 

I’m in.

Jamie picks you up a few hours later and parks her blacked out Range Rover in the alleyway behind a shiny black building in the heart of downtown. You’re once again surrounded by wealth and success thanks to Jamie. The dress code tonight is a black pencil skirt, black heels, your tits, and a bow tie that Laren will give you. Speaking of whom, Laren is holding open a staff door for you and Jamie with her hip, waving the two of you into the warmth of the building. She pulls you both into a big hug, “Thank fuck! You two saved my ass tonight. Gotta love having friends and family with great tits!”

“You’re so weird,” Jamie says, brushing past her and into the building. You follow her in before Laren ushers you towards a service elevator. 

“They’ve already started, you’re part of the second shift. I think the first set of girls made about four hundred each in tips, helps if you serve the guys that are winning though. The first round of games is almost over, winners move on soon.”

“How were their tits though? As great as ours?” You joke. Underneath the calm and collected mask you’re wearing you are definitely nervous. All these strange men are going to see you half naked, you know nothing about poker or serving drinks. Your two friends laugh as the elevator opens to a small changing room. Girls from the first shift are putting their tops back on, handing the bow ties back to Laren who gives them to you and Jamie. 

She cocks her head towards a swinging door, “Just through there when you’re done. Go to the bartender for a tray and table assignment. Two girls per table and only six seats so it should be pretty easy. Make sure you smile!”

“Yes, ma’am,” you and Jamie say teasingly as you strip off your tops and bras. She flips you the middle finger as she heads back out to the poker game to supervise. The cool air of the room stiffens your nipples, nerves fluttering behind your navel as you put the bow tie on.

You overhear the girls that are leaving talking about the men, “Did you see the one with the curly hair at the table by the bar?”, one says. 

The other responds, “He was so fucking hot. Total daddy, I think he owns this place.” 

A third pipes up with, “Fuck, I should have flirted more. I could use a sugar daddy.” 

As they walk towards the elevator the first girl says, “Did you know that this is a sex club? Too bad we can’t go explore the rest.” They giggle as they leave and you take a steadying breath. You’re going to be topless, in a sex club. 

“Ready?” Jamie asks, adjusting her bowtie around her slender neck. 

“Did you know this is a sex club?”

She laughs, “Ya, it’s like an exclusive kink club apparently. Laren said it’s owned by two brothers who are insanely hot. Maybe I should see if they need a maid.” She winks at you as you both walk towards the swinging door. 

You step into the dimly lit room and find the bar directly across from you. After rolling your shoulders back and down, you cross the dark hardwood floor to the bar. Everything in the room is black or deep forest green. Black paint covers the walls, your heels click against the sturdy black wooden floors, even the poker tables and chairs are black. A pop of deep green velvet only along the seats and table tops. It looks soft, like one of those fuzzy blankets you have on your couch and you fight the urge to run your hand across one of the empty tables as you pass. 

The bartender hands Jamie a tray first and then quietly tells her to go to the table in the far right corner. She sways her hips like the sultry goddess she is as she walks to the table. Relief floods through you when you notice that none of the men have raised their eyes, they’re focused intently on the card game. This isn’t some sleazy club like you initially thought when you heard ‘sex club’ leave the lips of the other servers. You relax a little at being able to just be yourself tonight, maybe a bit more naked than you’d usually be but yourself nonetheless. 

You take the black marble serving tray as the bartender points to the table closest to the bar. The curly hair man that the women were talking about in the change room faces away from you. Your heart leaps in your chest. Joel. As you approach the other server standing behind the table, he starts to turn his head. Time stops, your heart speeds up, and it starts to feel simultaneously too hot and too cold in the room all at the same time. It’s almost as if he’s turning his head in slow motion. As you catch his side profile he has the same hooked nose, in the dim light of the room you can’t see any greys along his temples and he doesn’t appear to have a beard. After what feels like an hour, his eyes finally meet yours and you let out a breath, although you aren’t sure if it’s disappointment or relief leaving your lungs. It’s not Joel Miller.

“Mind bringin’ me another Macallan neat, sweetheart?” His eyes stay locked on yours as he smiles at you sweetly. He holds the crystal glass out for you and you take it with a soft ‘yes, sir.’

Something about those eyes, and the way they flash darkly at being called sir, feels all too familiar. In the time it takes for you to take the six or seven steps to the bar you convince yourself that it’s just your brain seeing him everywhere. You tell yourself that when you bring this drink back he’ll look nothing like the man you caught knuckles deep in a woman as she cried out, nothing like the man who was so gentle and sweet, yet slightly bossy and commanding with you this afternoon. 

That’s definitely it, you say to yourself with finality. You’re just cock drunk over a cock you’ll never have. 

The bartender pops the whiskey open and the hair on the back of your neck stands up, you can feel someone looking at you. Almost feel their stare heating the right side of your body. It feels as if all of your exposed skin is being covered by the gaze of whomever is looking at you, shielding you protectively from the view of the other men. The bartender's eyes flick to the corner of the room and then back to you while he hands you the drink. The shift of his gaze confirms that you weren’t imagining it, there is someone looking at you. You place the whiskey on your tray and spin cautiously to the right, stopping dead in your tracks when you lock eyes with Joel Miller. He looks dangerous, sitting at a low table along the wall, his face just barely illuminated by a single candle on the dark wooden table top. His fingers are laced together, forearms of his black dress shirt resting on the knees of his black dress pants. His lips are pressed in a thin, disapproving line. 

He stalks over to you and you wish your tray was empty so you could shield your tits from him. The way he moves is almost menacing, like a jaguar stalking his prey, his eyes are almost black in the low light of the room. Your nipples stiffen under his intense gaze, your mouth fills with saliva and you gulp loudly. You stand frozen, the whiskey for that man you had convinced yourself isn’t related to Joel forgotten about on your tray. He plucks the drink off the marble slab, the glass looking like one of those disposable paper cups you have in your bathroom in his hand. He takes two long strides and drops the glass beside the man. 

“Thanks,” he starts to coo, a ten dollar bill clasped between two fingers. After realizing it’s not you, he adds a confused, “Brother?” 

He tries to pull the money back, but Joel is quicker. Snatching it from his brother's grasp and tucking it into the breast pocket of his dress shirt. Joel turns back to you and steps in closely, your lower back hitting the cold marble bartop and you gasp, arching your back and naked breasts towards Joel. His jaw flexes as he fights to keep his eyes level with yours. 

“What are you doin’ here?” he says in a harsh whisper. 

“I’m working,” it comes out a lot more bratty and defiant than you intend it to. 

“Not here you ain’t.”

You take a small step forward, your hard nipples lightly grazing the soft fabric of his black dress shirt. “I’m not leaving.” 

His hand circles your bicep and you twist out of his grasp. “You’re makin’ a scene, darlin’.” 

“You are, Joel. I’m just trying to make money.” He grabs you more firmly this time, not tight enough to hurt you but enough for you to know he means business. 

What’s his problem anyway? He doesn’t own you. What you do outside his home is none of his business. He can boss you around via an app every other week, but that’s it. That’s where it ends. You glance desperately over at Jamie to find her back to you as she speaks softly with a man who’s waiting for the next round of poker. Her hand grazes his bicep flirtatiously, she makes it look too easy to get what she wants from men. Joel guides you towards the staff changing room, keeping your body in the dark edges of the room. He’s breathing heavily through his nose, like an angry dragon and you’re honestly surprised smoke isn’t billowing out of his nostrils. 

In the bright lights of the changing room you feel more exposed than ever. You want to lift your tray, but in order to prove to him that you don’t care what he or anyone thinks you don’t. In fact, you stand up taller, holding your head high and pushing your chest out. It’s infinitesimal but he looks down just for a nano second. You smirk when his eyes come back to you. 

“Put a shirt on.” 

“If none of the other girls have to put a shirt on then neither do I.” You pop your hip out and pull your arm free from his large calloused hand and rest it on your hip. 

“Don’t fight me on this.” 

“I’m not fighting. You are. So all those other girls are fine, but I’m not? Why? My tits aren’t big enough for you?” 

“That’s not,” he pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a breath with his eyes closed. When he reopens them his eyes land softly on yours. “I just need you not to be here. Please.” 

Bright red anger sparks along the sides of your eyes. Seriously, who does he think he is? “You aren’t the boss here, Mister Miller.” 

“Do NOT call me that.” His neck flushes the same colour as your vision. You stand your ground, eyes narrowing into glaring slits. What is his aversion to being called Mister Miller, and why does it turn you on a little bit to rile him up when you use it?

“You aren’t my boss or my dad, Joel. You can’t make me leave or tell me what jobs I can or can’t take.” You’ve figuratively dug your heels in, you aren’t leaving. He can’t make you. Only Laren or whoever owns this sex club can ask that of you. “You can’t kick me out like you own the place.” 

“Actually,” he says darkly, “I can.” 

“What?” You say through a nervous breath, eyes widening. 

“I own the place. So I can kick you out, and I am kicking you out. Get your shirt.” 

Your shoulders fall slightly. You feel about two feet tall with the realization that he doesn’t want you here. This afternoon you thought that maybe he cared, he seemed like he cared, and now you’re half naked and he wants you to leave. He watches as you unclasp your bow tie and slide on your bra and shirt. 

You look over at Jamie’s clothes and it dawns on you that you didn’t drive here. Your face falls as you blink around the room and then towards Joel. 

“What’s wrong?” he says through thick concern.

“Nothing. I just…” 

He steps towards you, he’s so broad, his presence so large that you start to feel almost claustrophobic when he’s this close, but you never want him to step away. You’d happily let him smother you with his innate Joel-ness. “You just what?”

“I didn’t drive here,” you say quietly, looking down at your hands. Your left thumb nail immediately finds purchase along the cuticle of your right thumb. 

His strong palm cups your chin, lifting until he’s looking at you again. You’re becoming more and more used to the amount of eye contact Joel seems to make. He seems constantly dialed in on you when you’re in the same room.

Yes, I would be very happy to let him smother me. 

The harsh lines of his face soften, “I can get you a car. They’ll meet you at the staff door.” 

You nod into his hand and find it exceedingly hard to stay mad at him when he looks at you that way. He drops your chin and turns his large, broad body back towards the swinging door. He looks over his shoulder and says, “I’m sorry. I just can’t have you here, this is on me.” His voice is soft and sad, almost as if he’s full of remorse and just hoping you won’t hate him before heading back into the poker game. Any bit of anger is flushed from your system, replaced with the disappointment of having to leave wherever Joel is.  

You drag your feet to the elevator and then towards the staff exit. You let the heavy door close behind you with a loud bang as a blacked out SUV pulls up. The driver says your first and last name as he opens the back door for you. You look towards the black building one last time. 

“I’m sorry. I just can’t have you here, this is on me.” 

JMKink is written in shiny metallic black on the door and all the information of the evening hits you at once. JMK. Joel Miller Kink. Joel Miller, insanely handsome millionaire, owns a sex club.

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[randomdragonfires]

Take Me Down To The River, And Bathe Me Clean [One Shot]

Text Divider by @saradika-graphics

SUMMARY | The Gods have sent her for him, and he'll have her if it's the last thing he does.

WARNINGS | 18+; Canon AU; Smut; Heavy Religious Themes; Obsession.

WORD COUNT | 10.1k

A/N | Another one of my older stories, because @toms-cherry-trees reminded me of this one! This was originally beta-read by the lovely @ewanmitchellcrumbs.

She walked in sin, and had him in a trance.

A lowly servant girl, that was all she was. If he had been in his right mind, he would have never noticed her; never given her the time of day. Dragons did not spend their time entertaining sheep - especially in a time of war, when there were many and more important things to attend to.

The blood of the dragon ran hot, and his had boiled when he saw her for the first time. They said murder and bloodshed turned men into insatiable monsters and opened the doors to affluence for whores - of course, somebody had to draw benefit from the lust that came from making it out alive from battle. The men thought the cunts they got to sink their cocks into were their reward for victory; in truth, they had lost to women who made good use of war-tainted fools’ hot-headedness and filled their pockets with gold.

Aemond was different, however. While men spent their nights with women who screamed loud enough to keep every surrounding soul awake, he had taken to keeping away from sins of the flesh to keep himself in the light of the Gods. In the faint whispers of firelight, Aemond Targaryen would pore over war strategy and books of politicking, history, philosophy and diplomacy - that was when he was not reading passages of the Seven-Pointed Star, to give himself some sort of comfort during uncertain times of war.

He was a kinslayer already. He had to work doubly hard to appease the Gods now. He was a warrior and a Prince through and through, and he knew better than to give in to carnal desires that would mean next to nothing to him in the face of the lessons of the Gods that he had been taught. 

And then, she happened. She had walked in moonlight, and she had been sin incarnate.

On his first night as Prince Regent, he informed the maidservants to keep the candles burning in his study at the library, so he could continue to ponder over strategies to proceed in the fight for the throne. He had walked in while struggling to keep up with the pace of his thoughts, his calculated decisions seeming wrong at every turn and terribly in need of further thought. With his hands held behind his back so tightly that they would have gone red, Aemond walked to the private library where his study was set up - and she had been there.

He did not know if he had seen her before. He did not know if she had attended to him earlier, or if she was new to the Keep. All he knew was that she had been bent over a candle, the low light of which had given him a warm view of her soft face and the breasts that threatened to spill out of her tight servant maid’s dress. Her loose braid had fallen over her shoulder as she shielded the fire with her hand from the night air, and he watched her as she had looked at the flame intently, hoping it would keep.

With her shy little eyes and sharp nose, pouty lips, and nimble hands, she had Aemond’s attention completely, his mind already swirling with thoughts of her, of who she was, of what he could do to her.

Aemond’s very heart felt like it had been knocked down to his gut, with how heavy it was at the sight of her. There was a sense of unease about the slow loss of bearings in him, a feeling that he did not know what to make of. Illuminated by candlelight, she was the loveliest sight he’d ever known - almost divine, like a gift from the Gods themselves.

He could have her if he wanted to; burn her if he wished. He was a Targaryen Prince, now the solemn ruler of the realm - what was he, if not the living personification of fire itself? His peculiar thoughts threatened to give way to those of a sinful nature, and Aemond was painfully aware of it both in the chaos of his mind and the tightening of his trousers.

Through his hazy one-eyed gaze, worsened by the dim darkening of the night, he watched as she tilted her head ever so slightly. It took him by complete surprise how her neck called for him, for his touch. All he wanted was to run his fingers over the newly exposed skin from jaw to collarbone and squeeze her neck in his firm hold; just enough for her to feel his strength and burgeoning desire, but not so much that she’d beg to be let go of.

In the Hour of the Wolf, illuminated by the bright candlelight, Aemond Targaryen had seen the lowly servant girl for the very first time. And the moment her eyes had met his one violet orb, he knew he would never be able to let her go.

“Your Grace,” she murmured; whether it was in reverence or fear, he did not know. What he did know was that he enjoyed the respect from her, just as much as he did watching her bow down to greet him, giving him an ample view of her chest once more. Her voice was an almost quiet, tired one - one that might have belonged to a woman who would choose to stay quiet and unseen if she could manage it.

It was the nature of servants to put the wishes of the royal family above their own - so, of course, even if she wished for quiet, she would have to open her mouth and greet him with the respect that was his due. 

So far, she hadn’t disappointed him. She gripped the sides of her skirts while she waited for him to give her leave, and he wondered how far he could take this little game that he had begun to play. Would she be a willing participant in this dance of theirs that he had wanted to partake in with her? Would she put his needs above her own? Or would he have to bend and break her to have her?

“Continue,” he said, in a harsh tone that masked the growing curiosity in him. Who was this girl that had managed to capture his attention so effortlessly? Would she be warm to the touch like fire that she covered with her hands, or cold like the ice in his wine? Who was she? What was she?

He was a devout follower of the Faith, and was very well apprised of the punishments for indulging in sins of the flesh. He also knew that it would take an otherworldly grip to pull and lead him astray, and to his disappointing yet exciting realisation, he was sure that she had gained that power over him in a matter of moments - like nobody else ever had before.

If he had felt unease at how easily he had found himself willing to give in, he hadn’t bothered with it right then. Somehow, he had known that she had been worth it.

He took his seat at his chair by the desk - his scrolls, parchments, correspondence, and books already laid out for him. She had quietly walked over to the shelves with a dusting cloth in hand and had begun cleaning the older books on the shelves within his line of sight.

He watched from the corner of his eye, all the while trying his best to read from the book in hand. But his efforts had been in vain, of course. How could he have won, when sin herself was tempting him from across the chamber? How could he, when she was right there, mesmerizing him with every movement of hers?

If he hadn’t been so caught up with the voices in his mind, he would have seen her watching him from the corner of her eye and smiling, ever so slightly. Only a moment, and she had disarmed him. Sin was dangerous - and he now knew how.

Her mere existence had left him defenceless against her effortless pull toward him, and the notion that she had not even intended to hold his eye like this and yet still had - she so very much had - only worsened the weakness creeping up on him. 

He was not Aegon. He was not the rake who dishonoured powerless women over a moment’s weakness. He was not the man who seeded women who were not worthy of his blood. He was not the man who indulged in sin. And yet, as he had watched her curious eyes trying to make out the titles of the books she wiped, the fear of becoming that man grabbed him by the throat.

Those who indulged in sins of the flesh were cursed to spend all of eternity trudging through the Seven Hells - and no pretty face was worth that fate, no matter how ethereal she seemed to him. No Targaryen would suffer that fate - he was the blood of the Conqueror; he would not be anything less than ideal. He would not be the first to slip and sin.

So why did he find himself rising from his seat and walking towards her? Hands held back and his breathing even and steady, Aemond watched as she stilled, cognizant of his presence as his dark shadow fell over the shelves in front of her. She did not turn to see him or try to run.

She froze with her eyes fixed on his unsteady, dark shadow, and he enjoyed the nervous beads of sweat that began to form on the nape of her neck, right below where the stray hairs of her braid fell haphazardly. She swallowed, and Aemond's eye followed the slow bobbing of her throat with great intent. 

Was she fearful? If yes, she would have had every right to be. He certainly was afraid - of being carried away by sin.

That was all she was. Dirt and sin, both of which he should stay cleansed of. And yet, his hands moved of their own accord - the tip of his thumb wiped away the beads of sweat forming on her skin, drop after drop. Her breath hitched in her throat in surprise as gooseflesh arose in the wake of his touch and the warmth of his breath, and Aemond could not help the cutting smile that graced his lips then.

Could he conquer sin? He did not know. But he wanted - oh, he so wanted - to learn. And if there was one thing he truly enjoyed, it was learning. With that singular thought in mind, he moved her face by the chin to the side - giving her a view of his unmarred side if she wished for it.

She looked straight ahead, making no attempt to look at him. His hand was yet to leave her chin; if anything, his grip had only gotten tighter. In close proximity, he saw the way her hair curled on her sweat-dampened skin; the way her breasts heaved as she took in laboured breaths to calm herself down as a Prince of the realm touched and held her in his tight grasp.

Aemond’s thumb lazily caressed her jaw and lower lip, fingers holding onto her like she was a startled little fawn who would run if he let her. In close proximity, the swell of her backside grazed his clothed bulge for just a moment - enough to drive him mad with want and take a step back. But even then, he did not let go.

How could sin manage to look so innocent? How could she remain so ignorant of what she was doing to him?

Those who committed sins of the flesh would spend the entirety of the afterlife making their way through the dark expanses of the Seven Hells, and she… she was a test of will. The Gods had clearly sent her to test him, for why else would he have been so easily swayed by a pretty face?

“What do they call you?” He rasped into her ear, while she, to his utter shock, lifted her lips up slightly - enough to send his senses into action. She smiled like she knew the realm's biggest secret, and wouldn't tell anyone until she'd let it unfold a bit for her own amusement.

All of a sudden, there was no chasm, no oceans to separate them - all that they had between them was a slight fraction of space, just enough to breathe. His nose brushed her earlobe and she hissed - if he had not been close to her, he would have missed it.

Her name tumbled out of her lips in faint song-like whisper - a voice made to seduce - and Aemond was convinced that she was some sort of otherworldly creature - a siren, or a fey. Her voice went straight to his cock, and his eagerness was evident as it hardened. She was yet to make even a slight movement - every part of her remained still, and if she were not breathing, he would be convinced that he had killed her with the forwardness of his actions.

His hands reached down to her neck, and he continued down as he traced a path down the soft skin of her arms with the tips of his fingers. His hands reached hers, and he pried her fingers apart, allowing him to intertwine his with hers. He guided their joined left hands to wrap around her waist, and her eyes followed his movements as her head hung low.

The laces of her worn-out brown dress called for his fingers to run through them. The sight was the most inviting one he ever knew, and he let go of her other hand to let his finger work through the first loop. He gulped at getting to see a new plane of her body - it was a very small patch of newly won skin, but it had made his mouth water and mind race nonetheless.

He wondered what it would be like if he simply swooped in, pushed her braid aside, and planted his lips right there, but Aemond managed to hold himself. Would she push him away, or would she welcome him and encourage him to work his way through the second loop? Would she let him go further down her back until his mouth reached the swell of her backside?

His calloused fingertip tapped the skin under the newly removed loop on her back once, twice, thrice. The gooseflesh that arose and the audible gasp she let out felt like the biggest victory Aemond had ever known.

He decided then that if he were going to conquer sin, he would do it looking her in the eye. After all, Princes had to be honourable - and it was not honourable to approach prey from behind.

He turned her around, and she was quick to take a step back - her back hit the old wooden shelf behind her, and he towered over her, his presence a looming threat to her virtue as one of his hands rested on the side of her head, while the fingertips of the other grazed her neck. He drew his face closer to her, and her breath hitched, and he was infinitely amused by what her thoughts right now could be.

He pulled her face up by the jaw, and now she was forced to look at him - he expected to see fear for her modesty, nervousness for her virtue, and shame for her birth and station, which took away her agency when being held so close by a Prince.

He had not expected to see eyes that matched his own fire. Was he hallucinating, or was she truly holding her own against him in silence? He did not know. But what he did know was that meeting her vision from up close had stunned him. From where he was, he would have been able to count the number of lashes on each eyelid if he so wished - and it was that realisation that broke his reverie and made him draw back.

Sin and shame. He had to be far removed from both, and yet, he had almost allowed himself to be drowned in them. Near where she had stood, he had seen the bound books on the shelves. With his one eye, he had made out the title of The Seven Pointed Star, and he awakened - as though he had been doused with ice-cold water.

How quickly had he been drawn toward her? How easily had he almost given in to temptation? His first night as Prince Regent, and he had already teetered close to sin, dancing at the edges of Seven Hells as the Gods’ most tempting offering had lured him in.

“Leave.” His voice, hoarse from being in close proximity to her, had carried through the air but seemed to have failed to reach her. It seemed as though she had been looking through him, past him, and his words had fallen on deaf ears. She had seemed to be in thought as she ignored his grunt, as though she was waiting for him to take his words back and ravish her right then.

He expected to loom over her, to engulf her - he had not considered that she might perhaps seek to do the same thing to him. The thought of being controlled or met by an equal unnerved him like nothing else ever had.

So he repeated himself and held his hands behind his back, waiting for her to follow his command and swallowing the spit that had collected in his mouth. She quickly picked up her rag from the shelf and had gathered her skirts, eyes downcast and flitting about in confusion and shock.

If he looked closely, he might have noticed a slight knowing smile - one that indicated that this was far from over.

She bowed to him, eyes confident - she said much and more with her eyes, he found - as though his hands had not touched her only a few fleeting moments prior. She made away into the corridors - out of sight, but certainly not out of mind.

He let go of breath that he didn’t know he had been holding only when he had heard the definitive slam of the doors following her exit.

He who holds his own against temptations of the flesh would hold infinite power and control over his senses, the Holy Book had said.

His one eye trained over the spine of the Seven Pointed Star, and he sighed. He had looked sin in the eye and won tonight, resisting his urges. But given how she had plagued his thoughts so strongly even after running away, how long would it be before he gave in?

Aemond Targaryen was not a man of depravity.

He was not a man of sin. And yet, it was terrifying to him how he very easily could be whenever he was even remotely in her presence.

It was maddening how gooseflesh arose on his skin even when she was farthest away from his vision, blocked by many others who were positioned closer to him. His palms would become drenched just at the sight of her skirts billowing as she took a turn, without even having seen her face or body. Just the mere sight of the edge of her skirts was enough to drive him mad with want; and want her, he did.

On some days, he would have to sit with his hands held together tightly at the supper table while she served the food, if only to prevent himself from reaching out and grabbing her hand. His heart beat loudly and heavily in a steady thump, thump, thump - so definitive, he wondered if his family could hear it at the table.

What was worse was that she knew. She knew the maddening effect she had on him. Her lips curled up just slightly at how his eye would flit to her chest while she bent down to pick up his plate from the table. After dinner, before he could catch her and keep her in his hold, she would be gone. Regardless of the time of day, he sought her out like a moth to a flame. It did not matter where he was; it was always her that he wanted.

The shame of being driven with want for her touch - a mere servant girl’s touch - had taken over him, consumed him entirely. It spread through him faster than wildfire ever could, and hit him like a well-aimed arrow through to his heart. Only a week ago, he had been swirling with thoughts of battle and regency.

On one particular day, he had caught her tending to the gardens while walking in the corridors of the Red Keep. It was instantaneous how he immediately managed to make out her form even from far away. He stepped closer to the railing and watched with a stoic expression on his face and yearning in his mind, still completely befuddled as to what this servant girl had that had pulled her to him in an instant.

Soon enough, the girls who were with her had dispersed, and she’d waved them goodbye before going back to kneeling down next to the bushes, taking good care to not damage the roses as she dug out the mud.

Hands caked with dirt, possibly. The idea should have repulsed him, but the thought of her placing those very hands on him and tracing a muddy path down his chest knocked the very breath out of him in an instant.

Each day in the following week was torture for him - catching glimpses of her in pieces, in fragments, but never entirely and never enough to properly see her. Each sighting of her skirts, her hair, or her back was a moment on its own, frozen in time. She’d taken good care to make herself scarce, so much so that he worried.

Had he frightened her with his forwardness? Did she fear him? Wanting her was supposed to bring her closer to him, but it seemed to him that all it had done was push her away, oceans apart.

It killed him - how his mind, heart, and soul sang for her, a siren song so rich in wanting that it would leave nothing but destruction in its wake as he sought her out - and yet, she hadn't met his eye after that night when she’d run away from him, but she smiled.

He remembered clearly the way his fingertip had grazed the slightly exposed skin of her back; the way her breath had hitched when his fingers ran over her neck, and how she’d frozen for a moment when she felt his warm breath on her. And her voice - gods, her voice - he kept her name and her voice running through his mind like a desperate prayer, as though it was the only word that would bring him salvation from all the sins that he’d committed.

He remembered the slight upward curve of her lips, almost as though she was challenging him to go further. He thought about her all day, every day - and yet, it seemed as though it was never enough.

When this game of hide and seek had become too much for him, he’d take to the comfort of the night to relieve himself in the privacy of his bedchambers. He knew it was a sin to touch himself and spill into his own hand - but if he had to commit a negligible error to keep himself from committing a grave sin, like taking her no matter how much he wanted it, he would have to.

Aemond spent his days thinking her name, and his nights voicing it out in moans, grunts, and gasps as he let his hand work his painfully hard cock. Each time he pleasured himself, he remembered how her hands felt against his own - he imagined those hands on his cock, stroking each vein of his back and forth until he had himself drowning in pleasure, with white-hot spend spurting all over his hands and stomach. He imagined her hands coated with his seed.

She was an enthralling beauty. Calm, but with tempestuous eyes. Quiet, but with a flame to match his own. He'd hold a torch for her forever if that's what it took. He wanted her like he’d wanted nothing else.

His eye would remain closed throughout - the irony of his eye having to be closed for him to properly see her now did not escape him. It was a need, to be able to have her in some shape or form - almost as though he was at the edge of his body, and she was the only one who could save him from losing himself.

He imagined her face resting on his chest, her breasts pressed onto him. Her hands on his cock, his down her skirts. He’d let his mind take him all the way, and each time he spilled onto himself, he drove himself mad with more want - it was a vicious, endless cycle. He continued until he tired himself out and went to sleep, his last word of the night always being a faint and needy whisper of her name as he wondered what it would be like if she was sharing his bed, his heart, his life.

The shame would engulf him soon after he woke, and he’d grit his teeth at how the gods had chosen to play him. If they wanted him to be righteous and good, why put her in his path? If he was meant to resist her, why make her irresistible? Why play him for a fool? The unanswered questions, those that sound like he had been screaming into a well, gave way to a gigantic lump in his throat.

What she’d made of him - this pathetic, needy, pining mess of a man - could not stand for much longer. If he had to throw himself at the feet of the Seven and beg for penance, for absolution, for peace and quiet - he would. He would do it a thousand times over. He hated that he loved the feeling of wanting her. He was lost on what he could possibly do with the emotions creeping onto him through his blood as he pondered over the contrast.

With his intent and goal clear in mind, Aemond walked to the Royal Sept. He decided that he would fall at the Father’s feet, beg for mercy in his judgement, and pray to be forgiven. He would apologise to the Mother for playing host to foul and sinful thoughts that should have had no place in the mind of a Prince. He would leave himself at the mercy of the Maiden and make his shame known for wanting to defile a woman who’d done nothing but go about her duty. 

She was there, bent down on her knees at the foot of the statue of the Maiden, praying. She was right in front of him.

The Sept was empty, save for him and her. Aemond’s hands went to his back quickly, and he managed to stop moving his feet to silence the clicking of his boots. He watched her intently, fiercely, unnervingly.

He may have come to the Sept as a pathetic man wanting to give the Gods their due for his sinful indiscretions, but her presence had immediately taken him to who he was a week ago on the fateful night when he met her - a starved man who was mad with desire for her.

There was something to be said about how he’d come to the Sept ready to beg for forgiveness - only for the pathetic thoughts to become a distant memory as she invaded his mind once more. He was a hunter with a primal urge again.

Hot, ready, and absolutely ravenous, ready to stake out his prey - with her knees bent and her face unassuming as she let the comforting and safe feeling of the Sept take over her, she had no idea what dangers to her virtue the man stealthily standing behind her posed.

But Aemond did. He mapped out every inch of the skin that he could and could not see from where he stood, and he knew exactly how he wanted to touch, enjoy, and worship every inch of her. From where he stood, the entirety of her looked so small that she could have fit into his one hand. He closed his fist at the thought of holding her tight and watched.

The light from the stained glass windows reflected and fell around her in a bright ring of fiery orange and light rose, and she looked lit from within as the light illuminated and surrounded her. She may be wearing an old, worn-out servant maid's dress - but in the divine light of the Sept, surrounded by all things holy, she was nothing less than a goddess to Aemond.

Standing at the foot of the statue of the Maiden, she was a Goddess he wanted to claim; in mind, heart, and soul. The Maiden had fallen from the skies and had taken to taunting him with her beauty.

In the light, all he saw was her. Everything around her had vanished, and she was all his vision could register. It was almost as though the Maiden was offering her to him, asking him to indulge, rewarding him for all his years of obedience.

Everything fell into place, and all his thoughts made sense. She was sin, but she was the reward too - perhaps knowing that already was the reason why she had smiled. Only she was visible to him in a grand Sept adorned with many religious relics - a clear sign that she was all he was meant to see.

How could he not have her? He’d spent years being the obedient son, the good son. He’d spent years studying the blade, learning the histories of his realm and the philosophies. He made sure to be the ideal son his mother wanted, and now he was a Prince Regent of Westeros. A powerful man within his own right.

And all his time being good had finally led him to her - a sinful indulgence. And if he had earned the power he had, he had earned her too. She was his, and soon he would make it known - to her and to the damned Gods. He would make them all watch from above - all the Gods, the Old, the New, the foreign ones and his Valyrian ones - as he worshipped her in their place, as she usurped them in his world. She would be a goddess, and he, a devoted, starving, and humble man - on his knees for her.

He glanced over at her and then at the Seven statues one last time before walking away, his coat flying sleekly behind him as she finally finished her prayers and turned around. He forgave her for consuming him, his thoughts, and invading his very being. His hand stretched out and laid floating mid-air, reaching out for a girl who had not yet sensed his presence.

In the distance, as a second son walked away with his mind made, the young servant maid’s ears picked up the hauntingly familiar, fading sounds of his boot-clad purposeful gait. The candle she lit at the Maiden’s feet melted away, the sight making for something ethereally beautiful in the bright light.

She walked away soon after, and did not notice as the flame sputtered, faded, and went out.

Aemond Targaryen was a man starved.

This game they played, this push and pull, was enough to drive a disciplined and restrained man like Aemond to his wit’s end. His nights became longer as he stayed up to pleasure himself and moan out her name until the entire corridor heard it; his days became longer in her absence too, as he stayed alert, trying to find her in some corner or another. This dance that they paired up for was an absolute tease - he always found himself reaching out for a hand that did not fall into his grasp, one that he missed by a fraction of space each time.

She would walk into a corner and be gone before he could catch sight of her; he spotted her braided hair in a sea of heads from the dias once, but he could not keep up as the servants moved to work. In the library, in the corridors, in the gardens, in the common rooms - he’d missed her narrowly everywhere.

He had always been a man who worked for what he had. His dragon, his sword skill, his intelligence, his fearsome reputation - Aemond worked hard to earn every single one of his known traits, and as was the natural order of things, he was made to earn her too. It made his patience run out slowly and swiftly - but he did not give up. He would not.

An offering from the Gods was never simply handed over - there are many trials and tribulations to be faced first. And in his case, it would mean finding her first.

One fine day, he did.

He had seen her enjoying herself. She held a basket of dirty clothes to be taken to wash, and her companion was hidden by a wall. Aemond knew that pursuing her right here, despite every bone in his body wanting to, would not be a good idea - he could not afford to be found lusting after a serving girl with such intensity.

But he could stay around for a while and hear her speak. He did love her voice - the hold her siren song had on him in each waking moment was absolutely crushing, and he’d let it take him.

He stood out of sight and heard her talking about the Holy Day festivities out in the city, and when he heard the voice of her companion, his blood ran cold. A man - she had been speaking to and entertaining the company of a man. She was giving him her laughs freely and her company with nothing in return - laughs and time that should have been his.

Her lips curled up in the most captivating way, and it hurt and angered Aemond to think that it was not meant for him. He once again heard the man speak about taverns and dances happening all night on the day of, and Aemond’s hand clutched the hilt of his dagger. 

"Vaogenka Andali," he seethed. [Andal scum]

It would be so easy, so simple to rip his throat out right now. He could easily kill him and take her, claim her right there as the man watched Aemond take her in every possible way with his dying breath. He would do that to every man who dared to meet her eyes and put himself in her path, for he was the only one with the right to behold the sight of her.

Sin of course, was a common temptation. No wonder everybody wanted to partake. No matter. She was his. And judging by her next words, it seemed that she knew it too.

“Apologies, I’m already spoken for.”

His hold on his dagger loosened as his mind and heart caught up with her words.

He loved the push and pull of this sinful game they played, and it seemed that she did too. His smile was harsh and cutting, dripping with victory and pride at knowing that his want for her affections was uncontested. He slowly slinked away, and completely missed how she leaned her head back at the sound of his boots, only to spot his silver hair in the distance.

He missed her sly smile once more.

That night, her words ran through his mind over and over as he imagined her whispering sweet nothings in his ear while letting him slip his cock into her cunt, The mental image of her wanting, moaning and at his mercy while he fucked into her mercilessly had sent a shivering bolt of pleasure to his spine. It was the sight of her looking up at him and batting her lashes innocently that did it for him, and sent him careening to his peak.

On the seventh day of the seventh moon, a day considered holy for the New Gods, the prayers at the Royal Sept were to happen late in the morning in the presence of the royal family and the courtiers. Aemond had to make an appearance in the beginning as his mother welcomed those of the court and noble houses, and so he stood, with his hands held behind his back, trying to spot a familiar face amidst the throngs of people who had gathered.

There are very few serving girls around, she was not there. Where would she be?

Aemond took his leave, and he watched as the High Septon took his place at the front and led the proceedings. He walked out of the Sept through the backdoor, with the faint and dull sounds of prayer running through his ears as he remained within earshot.

“The Seven themselves walked among the Andals in the hills of Andalos, and it was they who crowned Hugor of the Hill and promised him and his descendants great kingdoms in a foreign land…” 

The Septon’s voice reverberated through Aemond’s mind, and given all the shame he had felt and the conflicted nature of his thoughts ever since he met her, he felt the need to listen to the Word of the Gods. And so he froze in the darkened, empty corridor, with his back leaned onto the wall and his hands held together on his front, finger tapping incessantly into his thigh as he listened.

“The Seven had promised King Hugor a golden land amidst towering mountains…”

Promises. What had the Gods promised him?

Almost as though they had heard his prayers, she had walked in. 

She was what the Gods had promised him.

She looked no different from the first time he’d seen her, and his mind was racing. His throat had suddenly gone dry, and his voice was seemingly stripped away from him as he finally faced her.

He’d wanted her for too long, and now she was right in front of him; his for the taking. He would not let her go this time.

The basket that she held in her hands had a variety of fruits that he presumed were for the lords and ladies to eat once they’d finished with their prayers. If his assumptions were right, she was on her way to join those at the Sept to pray. 

The Maiden as he saw her, was on her way to the Sept to bless them with her presence. And Aemond was about to show her that he was the most devout man in the Kingdoms. It did not matter how loud the echoing sounds of their prayers were - he’d worship her like none of them could.

He stalked toward her with the cadence of a starved man, one that had been kept away from his prey for too long. And what was he, if not that? The High Septon’s voice was faintly audible to him, but nowhere close to impactful enough to sway him towards any other course. 

“Spirits, wights, and revenants cannot harm a pious man, so long as he is armoured in his faith,” Aemond heard him say. No, none of them managed to penetrate his thoughts - but this woman, this Goddess amongst men… She owned him. She had his heart, his soul, and everything that he was.

She quickly dropped the basket and her eyes followed the one stray apple that rolled away from them both. She couldn’t for long however, not when he’d pushed her to the wall and held her by the soft skin of her cheek.

Her eyes, meeting his own. His legs lodged on either side of hers. His hand, digging into her waist like he wanted to bruise her, brand her, mark her as his.

She turned to look sideways, and seemed as though she was worried about people walking in on them in the dark, isolated corridor. He pulled her face harshly to meet his eye once more - Aemond knew that they’d all take the front entrance and not the back - they’d be left alone, if only for a little time.

He will have her today. He will have her if it’s the last thing he does.

He ran his fingers over her forehead, slowly bringing them down to trace her eye. Her eyelids shut immediately, and her breath hitched as he travelled further down and met her nose. He cannot stop now  - he will not stop - and he got to her lips, fingers hovering over the outline. He felt the faint dampness from when she’d probably licked her lips not too long ago, and gasped.

It was all he could do to not slip those fingers inside.

Her eyes are locked with his one violet orb, and he looks into her as his fingers map out every little plane of her face. He felt his knees going weak as she held her own against his intense gaze, fire matching his as she refused to break contact with his eye. His voice was hoarse and it was almost painful to let the words out, but he knew that he’d explode if he did not. 

“Do you… have any idea what you do to me?”

“Perhaps I will be better served if you tell me,” she whispered. There was no fear in her, he noticed. He may have seen her as his prey to claim, but it seemed that she was determined about keeping them both on equal footing. It only drives him toward her a lot more. His fingers travelled down to her chin, and made their featherlight way down her neck, moving as her throat bobbed while she gulped. When they reached her bosom, he watched as she audibly gasped, and wondered what other noises he could elicit from that pretty mouth.

“I have been driven mad with want. Sinful, uncouth thoughts that befit a lowly barbarian, rather than a prince. All because….” He gulped and her eyes still did not move away from his. He holds her chin to raise her face, while letting the other wander over her gown and fall on her clothed breast.

“Pride goes before a fall.” the High Septon’s faint voice reverberated through the dark corridor. Aemond is the blood of Valyria; closer to the Gods than men. With his unquestionable blood and status came a sense of pride that ensured that he’d never be looked down upon, pride that he’d never let go of. But tonight, he will. For her, he will. For he does not want to fall - he wants to fly high, higher and higher still with her.  When he faced her, he realised that he would go on his knees in reverence if she asked. 

“I’ve thought about you ever since I first saw you,” he said. His hands squeezed her breast as though he was testing out the action, and he saw how the back of her palm hit the wall and the other gripped his doublet, trying to find purchase as the faint pleasure shot through her.

“You… you are special. You are the Gods’ answer to all my prayers… You….” he took a long breath as he studied her face, looking for any signs of discomfort. “You…”

She raised her eyebrow as though she challenged him to continue, and he wondered if he should. He heard what he’d said, and it sounded no less than delusional - but how could it be wrong, if it felt so right?

“The Gods… they sent you to me.” My Goddess, he thought. “What do they want? What do you want?” 

The hand on her breast continued to knead at her soft flesh through her clothes, and his other hand descended too as soon as he watched her lips part - but that wasn’t enough. He needed an answer. So he stopped his ministrations and asked again, stern voice giving way for nothing apart from what he wished to hear. 

“What do you want from me?”

“I only want you,” she breathed out, her hands covering his as she caged them over her chest.

The Maiden had come to bless the earthly beings with her presence, with her love, and she wanted him. Wanting to wait no longer, his lips found hers.

The air crackled with an electric intensity as their lips met, desire and longing fueling the moment. His hands trembled slightly as they traced the curves of her face, fingers brushing against her soft skin with a reverence that bordered on worship.

Their kiss deepened, and he pulled her closer, his body pressed against hers, feeling the rapid rhythm of her heartbeat matching his own. She arched into him, a soft moan escaping her as their tongues intertwined. The taste of her was intoxicating to Aemond - a heady blend of sweetness and fire that seared itself into his memory, branding him with a hunger he never knew existed.

Time seemed to slow, the world around them fading into obscurity as they lost themselves in the intensity of their union. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer and he reciprocated, as if afraid that she might slip away if he didn't hold on tight enough. Every fibre of his being was consumed by her, by the intoxicating sensation of her lips on his, the soft sighs that escaped her, and the way her body moulded seamlessly against his. 

He pushed them both towards the wall and let his hands rest on the stony surface, caging her. She leaned forward and caught his lips this time, letting her hands wander over the planes of his shoulders, his arms, his clothed chest. Aemond’s hand grasped at her neck and squeezed - enough to elicit a gasp from her, but not so much that she’d beg to not be choked to death. 

Her hands snuck in through the hem of his doublet, fingertips grazing over the bare skin of his abdomen. If Aemond dropped dead right then, he would die a happy, blessed man. Blessed by a Goddess herself.

“Spirits, wights, and revenants cannot harm a pious man, so long as he is armoured in his faith,” the High Septon recited. He recognized the words from the Holy Book, and could not help but agree. As the taste of her lips consumed him and her touch left him in a mindless frenzy, he knew.

Her touch on his bare skin ignited a fire in him that already burned bright, and as he readied himself for more, the High Septon’s distant words echoed through the darkened corridors once more.

“Men bow to their lords, and lords to their kings, so kings and queens must bow before the Seven Who Are One.”

And right then, a Prince of Valyrian blood, a man closer to the Gods than to men, kneeled. Just as the Seven preached kneeling down to the divine deities, he listened. Aemond was quick to hold her ankles and swiftly pull his hands up her legs, hiking her skirts up with each passing moment. The chill of the air around them hit her newly exposed skin instantly, as he made note of the gooseflesh that arose on her calves. He pushed his face forward to kiss her knees as his hands continued their way up, pulling her skirts all the way up to her hips and exposing her already drenched clothed cunt to him.

When his lips met the apex of her thighs, she let out a loud moan. Aemond was convinced right then, that pleasuring her was what he was put on the earth for. What better purpose can a man have, than to satisfy a Goddess amongst men?

As though they could not survive without each other’s touch any longer, her hands pulled at his hair - she wanted more, and he was all but a devoted soldier at her feet, giving her all that she wished for. He pulled her smallclothes down to her ankles, and parted her folds to bring her wet and wanting cunny to his line of sight. 

He looked up to face her, and her heavy breathing and heaving chest filled him with energy beyond that which he was humanely capable of handling. His Goddess had perhaps blessed him already, but he would be amiss if he did not properly pay her his obeisance. She’d sensed what he intended to do almost immediately, and through her barely hidden lust and half lidded eyes, she murmured.

“Anyone could come. Anyone could see.”

“Let them.” 

He pushed his head between her thighs and licked from her opening to her pearl, already drunk on the taste of her. She arched into him, and he took good care to tightly grip onto her thighs, keeping her and her skirts in place so they'd not disturb him. It would seem that his hot breath on her and his nose nudging her bud was enough to have her lose all sense of control and moan, and he relished in watching her let the pleasure take over her with each movement. He then sucked at her pearl diligently before fucking into her with his tongue once more and she pushed herself at him like she couldn't have enough.

“Those who indulge in sins of the flesh would be cursed to spend all of eternity trudging through the Seven Hells.” The High Septon’s voice echoed through, but Aemond was far too gone, far too cuntstruck as he became addicted to the feeling of her pearl between his lips. Why would he be bothered about trudging through the Seven Hells, when the Seven Heavens were right here, between his beloved’s thighs?

He was sure he heard someone, but he was too in deep to care. He’s drowning in her; the feel of her, the taste of her, the scent of her and everything that makes her the Goddess that she is to him. 

After all, how can he not? The Seven themselves had shined their light on her and sent her for him, had they not? The deeper he buried his tongue in her weeping cunny, the more the intoxicating smell of her engulfed him. And he let it. He’d let her take over him a hundred times over, for every lifetime that the Gods see fit to bless him with. 

A thin streak of light escaped in and illuminated her thigh, and he heard her moan wantonly as his tongue continued its unrelenting assault. Her pretty sounds only served to drive him mad with want, and he pressed his nose into her bud as he continued to feast on her and pushed her against the wall with a hand splayed across her stomach, pressing into her as she grinded against him.

Her hands tightened around his head and pulled at his spun-silver hair. Her cries of pleasure were the only sounds he heard as she toppled over the edge, her mind a haze as white hot pleasure coursed through her. Seven save him, Aemond was not a greedy man - but it was with greed that he did not let a single drop of her go to waste and continued to pleasure her through her peak as he lapped it all up. When he stood back up, he did so with a glistening chin, painted with her slick. 

He knew very well from the moment he saw her, that if he touched her once, he’d never let go. What he had not anticipated was how little patience he’d have - for as soon as she recovered from her peak, he quickly freed his cock and sheathed himself in her in one swift thrust. Her thighs quivered in his hold and her hands flew to his shoulders, looking for purchase as she struggled to stand on her own - her knees seemed to have melted under his touch.

He lowered his head onto her shoulder, letting the feeling of her tight heat warm his length for a moment as he stilled. She clenched around him immediately and he mouthed a path of feather light kisses down her neck. Every bead of sweat was visible to him and he breathed it all in, following it with a firm lick up the skin that left her shivering under him. He let his hand rest and pull at the hair on the nape of her neck, cold from being dampened by sweat.

It would seem that his Goddess was as impatient for him as he was for her, and couldn’t wait for him to lay his claim on her. While he was content to stay buried to the hilt in her wet cunt for a while, he knew that they were risking it all - anyone could walk in at any moment, and they had to make it quick. 

The thought of being caught out like this, buried inside of her, would usually shame him. But right now, he couldn’t bring himself to be ashamed - how could he? He’d let them all watch as he took her in all the ways a man could a woman before he let her go for fear of strangers. After all, dragons did not concern themselves with the opinions of sheep. Especially not when it is a Goddess’ satisfaction that is at stake. 

“Lives are like candle flames that can be snuffed out by an errant puff of wind,” the High Septon said, and he agreed instantly. If life was finite, if he could die today, wouldn’t it be prudent to take pleasure from a divine deity that presented herself to him, wet and wanting?

Her hand moved to the back of his neck and she breathed into him, her warm breath hitting his lip as he kissed her once more. She was as desperate as he was, pushing against him in search of pleasure - pleasure that only he could give her - was all the indication he needed as he began thrusting into her, hard and fast.

She let out a choked moan as he smiled against her lips, his own a sharp line that looked more arrogant than happy - as befitting a Targaryen Prince. She lowered her hands and let it slip under his doublet once more, letting her hands roam free over his back and planting her nails into the skin. Aemond was sure that red blood had bloomed where she’d dug into him, but the heat of her, her walls clenching around him were all that mattered.

He locked her in his tight hold - one hand pulling at her hair so she’d look at him while he fucked into her mercilessly, and another on the small of her back, fingers ghosting over the top of her backside - and she was caged in by him. He held her so tight, like he worried that she’d disappear if he loosened his hold even just a little. Their kisses were all tongue and teeth as he rutted into her, hitting her rough spot with each thrust. He groaned as her lips parted, a thin line of spittle between them as he lost himself in the feeling of her.

Her back hit the wall repeatedly and the heavy thuds were in tandem with the wet sounds of his cock in her cunt. Her heavy breaths, the tightening of her stomach, the touch that she sought out and all the sounds that she made, the ones that he'd never tire of hearing, were enough to drive him to madness.

Her hands roamed over all the bare skin she could find, and when he thrusted too harshly she would reward him with blood red crescent-moon cuts with the tips of her nails. “I have… waited… for so long…” Aemond panted, his words punctuating each push into her. “Imagined having you like this, tight and warm around me,” he grunted.

She let out a choked moan, followed by her fastening her legs around him as he lifted her up and continued to let her know how much he desired her. 

“Fucked into my fist each night to the thought of you… Wrong, so wrong…” he growled, and his hands quickly went up to her chest and pulled her neckline down, freeing her breasts. He kneaded at the flesh and marvelled in how perfectly they fit in his palms, almost as though they were made for him to have and hold. With each touch, he felt the heel of her feet press into the small of his back through his clothes. Nudging him, taunting him, driving him mad.

“Want you so much, you’re mine…Issa jaesa.” [My Goddess] 

Every declaration was accompanied by a rough thrust and he felt hot pleasure blooming in his lower abdomen. But he wasn’t ready, not quite yet. Not if she wasn’t. He needed her to peak with him and truly join him as one. He needed there to be indisputable proof that she was his. The thought of her spending the day with his white hot spend running and drying down her thighs was what pushed him to circle her nub with his long finger and thrust animalistically into her, coaxing moans and a blooming warmth in her belly.

“Yours, my prince. Only yours…” she murmured in between gasps, and she peaked immediately after. He was powerless as she clenched tightly around him, and in a few slow yet definitive thrusts, his release came soon after. 

Looking in between their joined bodies, he ran his hand up her stomach and held onto her sweat-coated breast. No sight in the world had ever been so divine.

“Death is never far in this world, and seven hells await sinners…” the High Septon’s voice said as he finished his sermon. Having just found his life’s greatest pleasure in her, he found that he did not mind the Holy man’s words. 

He may be a Valyrian prince closer to God to others, but in front of her, he was only a man. And what power does a man have against a sinful temptress like her? How was he to possibly stay away? If this is how good sin felt, then Aemond realised that he would not mind being left to rot in the Seven Hells if he would be allowed the memory of her in his mind, heart and soul for eternity. It would be enough to keep him alive in the land of the undead.

He stayed buried in her until he softened once more, his hand twirling a dampened stray curl on her neck as he continued to knead at her breast and roll the soft nipple with the other. His soft kisses on her neck were only made better by her tired breaths, and he bit into her neck quickly before he let go.

He missed the warmth of her touch immediately as he pushed his cock back into his trousers, and corrected himself to make himself presentable once more. When he caught a glimpse of the stray hair on his shoulders, he looked around to find his leather hair tie - only for her closed fist to reach out to him. He opened his palm and she let the hairtie fall onto his hand, and he smirked at the normalcy of the action.

After he set his hair in place, he clutched his hands behind his back as he watched her correct her sleeves and smooth down the skirts of her worn-out dress. She smiled at him when she was done with her clothes and put a hand in her hair to tame it, and with her mischievous yet charming grin, she healed all the scars in him that she had not caused.

When she was done, he found the stray apple that had rolled away from her basket and put it in with the rest. He handed it to her and could not resist letting his hand push away the fine hairs that stuck to her forehead. When he finished, he kissed her well, and he kissed her true - no trace of the roughness with which he’d taken her only moments ago, a soft reminder of his claim to her that he'd just staked. 

Their foreheads met and he held her by the back of her head, and he smirked as he heard his Goddess speak once more.

“Will you come to me again?”

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MASTERLIST

[sweetenerobert]

toy story

8.1k | action figure!joel miller x male reader

summary: contemplating throwing out your favorite toy, he comes to life and makes your last night before you leave for college memorable

warnings: MDNI 18+, agalmatophilia, strong language, slight possessive joel, childhood friends to lovers (if you squint) no mention of age besides reader leaving for college, l-word drops, pet names (mostly doll and baby), spanking, dirty talking joel, no description of reader, but joel lifts you (1), oral (m!giving/m!receiving) rimming, spit as lube, unprotected p in a, creampie,

inspired by this post , also huge thanks to @strang3lov3 new tattoo for this fucking idea, i love you so much and thank you for letting me rant to you about this idea that been in my drafts for FUCKING MONTHS

thanks to @minispidey for beta, love you <333

dividers by @saradika-graphics

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I’VE MISSED YOU GUYS!! SOOO MUCH!!

Moonlight piercing through the cotton curtains of your childhood bedroom, dust dancing through the luminescent shards from your window. Two boxes stacked on each other in the corner of your room, your closet’s life ripped away from the clothes once hung in the small confined space. 

Wiping the sweat that littered your forehead as you huffed a breath, you lay down on the small circular rug that riddled the floor, staring at the ceiling light. You were getting ready to leave for college, and packing up your life seemed more stressful than lifting weights off your shoulders. 

Constant choices about what to throw away or bring with you kept swimming in your brain, and overthinking two simple decisions kept making your head spin, mostly ending with you sitting silently thinking about your answer. This wasn’t one of those situations; you had just finished packing and felt like you deserved a break.

Alone in your childhood home while your parents had picked up late shifts and your siblings were out, the silence was deafening, but you preferred the quiet. It gave you time to process everything. Seeing the stars tapped onto your ceiling made you smirk as you glanced around your bare room.

Eyes catching an object underneath the bed, you turned your body to understand the object better. It was your old lumberjack action figure when you were a kid; it must’ve fallen off the shelf over your window. You don’t remember if it came with a name or you made it up, but you called him Joel. 

That name stuck with you until now, even when you were a kid, when you introduced Joel to your friends as they commented on it. Being a “weird name,” you didn’t care; you loved the name. 

Attempting to grab him from the bed, you realize that it would be easier to grab Joel from your bed. You were quickly climbing up on your bed and scrambling to the side, quickly sliding your hand down the crack of the wall and your bed. Tips of your fingers grazing the fake axe on the back of the action figure, biting your lip as your nail pulls the toy closer towards the wall, retracting your head a few feet up as you see it closer to the wall.

The action figure is in your grasp, sliding your knuckles up on the cold wall while your palm touches the cotton sheets wrapped around your mattress. The toy is now in your hand, and you notice how it’s looked the same after all the years. A couple of tiny patches of color are missing from his plastic hair, and his face and plastic beard stay the same. Joel’s clothes are dusty, balls of lint cover his pants and shirt, and his boots are dustier than anything. You quickly blow a puff of air, trying to clean him off the best you can.

“Hey, Joel. How ya been?’ 

Did I use to talk to this thing? Man, I was a weird kid. 

Joel was your therapist before you even knew what therapy was — telling him about how you finally could spell Wednesday without misspelling it, How you passed each spelling/vocabulary test, and how the boys at school were bullying you. Joel always listened to you; he was your toy, and he didn’t care as long as he was there to protect you – metaphorically.

Loving Joel was easy—he was your first crush—but trying to explain that to a toy was difficult. Bringing Joel with you to live in your college dorm seemed like a hard decision. Glancing at the tiny trash can next to your bed, you glance back at Joel and discard him in the trash bin. 

Wiping your hands on your pants, you looked at the bags and boxes that had cluttered the corner of your room and huffed a breath in annoyance as you decided it would be wise to have your life packed away downstairs.

It didn’t take you long to realize how much you hated your fucking stairs. You were leaning on the top of the stairs – on the handrail, catching your breath. Your bedroom was in your field of view; you would’ve crawled into your room if your knees hadn’t creaked with each movement. 

One of the main things you wouldn’t miss about your house would be the stairs that killed you slowly with each trip up and down the wooden stairwell. 

Slowly getting up from the floor, your feet trudged towards your bedroom door. You were pushing the gateway of your bedroom, earning a creak from its hinges. Your eyes glanced down towards the dark chocolate wood floor with each step into your room. “Finally, I’m ready to lay down in my –” You started to pick your head up, glancing at the figure sitting on your night, playing with a pink eraser he must’ve found in the trash bin.

“– bed.”

"Doll, what's up with you throwin' me away?"

W-what? That one question kept flying around in your head. Not, who is this? Not, what is happening? Just a simple question: What kept spinning around your head?

In the back of your mind, you knew who it was sitting in front of you. It wasn’t a dream, not your imagination; it was real life. Your action figure — your lumberjack, Joel in the flesh? 

He looked real, too real. His hair's curls looked fluffy, and his skin's wrinkles looked defined. His clothes looked like he’d gotten them from a store, with wrinkles littering his shirt and jeans and his boots rubbing against the wood. Your childhood toy was in front of you, alive and in the flesh.

“Too stunned to speak, doll?” 

Shaking your head from the thoughts swimming around you, you look at the male before you. “What?”

“Got my answer. Can’t believe I rendered my doll speechless.”

Joel’s build shocked you as he stood up from his position; his shoulders were broad, his biceps bulging from his flannel – you knew he rolled his sleeves up. Vein’s threatening to burst from his arms and hands. Your former action figure who walked in front of you felt menacing, like his aura made you cower in fear, but instead of fear, it was astonishment. That something you wished for years ago finally came true.

“How is this possible? How are you real?” You quivered. 

“The better question better be, “Why would I throw out such a precious toy?”

“Huh?”

“C’mon, doll, y’think I’m stupid or somethin’; I knew y’threw me out. Half m’foot was in the trash can when I started growing.” 

The answer was plain and simple: you didn’t want to bring him with you to college or leave him to give to someone else, so you thought just about getting rid of him would be. Clearly, Joel’s surprise appearance made things more complicated than they should. “I didn’t throw you out,” You quickly spat out. “You fell in there by accident.”

Joel’s tall figure stood tall in front of you, his once plastic hand – now turned flesh and genuine, his thumb slowly tracing your bottom lip. Your body was shuddering against his touch. “Y’know your body betrays you, sweetheart.”

“Just be honest; it doesn't hurt me, jus’ your pride.”

“J-Joel, listen —”

“Ah, now you know I exist; you were treating me like some hallucination,” Joel announced, backing up, sticking his thumb in the waistband of his jeans. 

“You’re aware that this could very well be a hallucination,” You shrugged.

“Slap yourself, then.” 

“Huh?” 

“Slap. Yourself. In. The face. Then.” Joel enunciated. 

“N-No! I’m not going to do that!” You exclaimed. 

“Okay, fine, then. You’ll never know if this is a hallucination then.” 

Groaning, you quickly connected your palm against your cheek, the skin on your palm and face stink earning a wince that you suck from your teeth.”Happy, now?”

“Blessed. I’m pretty sure you have many questions, which aren’t important, because we need to figger out why you threw me out?”

“I told you, I didn’t–”

“Doll, I’m not stupid. I saw you put me in there, now don’t bullshit me.”

The skin on your palm and cheek had been itchy to the point you wanted to scratch your palm and face simultaneously, resulting in you rubbing your knuckles on your face. But you didn’t even want to answer Joel—your childhood toy. Hurting your friend's feelings was something you never wanted to do; imagine how Joel would feel knowing the boy who had played with him since he was a kid didn’t want to take him to college with him.

But it was something that you had to say, something that you would dread telling anyone you love.

Deciding to rip the band-aid faster than slow, you take a breath, look at Joel’s once painted-on brown eyes, and see a soul behind his real-like eyes. “I didn’t want to take you to college with me, and giving you away seemed way too hard even to think about. So I threw you away.”

Joel looked shocked by your confession. He thought he was ready to hear what you had to say, but Joel wasn’t; he was more perplexed than anything. Moving from where he stood before you, he stumbles on the mattress and sits down to collect his thoughts. Joel’s head hangs as you sit down next to him. It was reminiscent of when you were younger and would watch movies in your living room, having Joel sit next to you while you imagined him laughing or getting mad at a character like you were.

For once, the silence in the room was deafening, and you didn’t like it; you didn’t know what Joel would say, which terrified you.

“Joel? Are you okay?”

Joel nodded. “Yeah,” He snuffled. “Was just thinkin’ bout somethin’.”

“What was it?’

“Joel, when I’m older, I’m taking you everywhere with me, no matter what. You're going to be with me during college, and even when I get the big boy job like my daddy does, you’ll always be there.”

The action figure you played with your whole childhood quoted what you told him in those peak years of being a kid and had nothing to worry about.

“I said that, I'm guessing?”

Joel nods. “You were always a happy kid, no matter what happened, always smiling.” You chuckle at Joel’s statement. It made a smile appear as you remembered that he was always there with you. But, you had to face the fact that you weren't a kid anymore; those promises you made to a toy — a mere plaything- weren't something you thought about as a hormonal teenager. 

Shaking your head, you snap your head at Joel. “Joel, I was a kid back then. I didn't know that growing up would be so different than what I thought.”

“I- I can't be that same kid again. I wish I could trust me, I wish I could, but I can't.”

“It’s a shame,” Joel starts. “I would’ve loved t’see you grow up.”

“I mean, you technically did, right?”

Joel chuckles, “Yeah. Yeah, I did.” 

The cicadas appeared to disrupt the silence in the room when you didn't know what to say to Joel. You hated breaking your best friend’s heart, but being honest was something Joel wanted other than being lied to. “Do you want a hug?” 

“I would love that,” Joel’s southern drawl appeared as you wrapped your arms around Joel, and his arms wrapped you around in a bear hug. 

Hugging Joel felt weird but right – a seemingly impossible wish you fulfilled. You begged to be able to hug Joel, have him hold you in his arms, and melt together, being safe in each other’s arms. “M’gonna miss ya when you’re gone,” Joel grumbles against your head. As you hugged Joel, questions began to swim in your mind as you squeezed his waist; it felt like you were hugging an actual human. The way his body resisted against the tight hold on him, his body felt warm against yours. 

“Okay, wait a second,” you announce, releasing yourself from Joel’s grip and standing before him.

“What’s wrong?” Joel asks, resting one hand on his knee and his forearm on the other knee. You watch at the skin around his wrist, and the watch starts to bend as if he were human.

Questions were floating in your head; you didn’t know where to start, but you took a deep breath and opened your mouth to speak. “How did this happen? How are you walking like this?” 

“I’ve always done it, just done it when everyone isn’t home.”

Perplexity rode your face as Joel’s answer made you think about more questions you wanted to spit out. “So, you’ve always been able to walk around and be so human-like?”

“Yeppers.”

“So, you heard everything?”

Joel nods.

“Everything?” 

“If you’re referring to the times I’ve heard and seen you jerk off and get fucked in here, then yes, everything,” Joel mocked. 

Heat rose to your face. Joel had seen everything, the most vulnerable parts of your body. Things that you wouldn’t admit to if your family asked about it.  “Even when–” 

“Not when you were a kid, I’gave you your privacy. Scout’s honor.”

“But, you’re not a scout but a lumberjack.” 

Joel shrugs. “You’re point?”

“My point is–” You exhale a breath as a hand slides down your face. “If ya wonderin’ of anythin’ sex-related–” Joel interjected.

One question swam around your mind in that topic Joel mentioned. “Can you fuck?” You question, crossing your arms. Joel’s chuckle sent chills picking at your “tough-guy” demeanor. That nervous feeling rose, making you worried about his answer. “If I tell you the truth, will you mind?”

Reflexically shaking your head, you waited for Joel’s answer. “Yes, doll. I can.” Without thinking, you asked Joel. “How?” Joel answered by pointing at you. “You’ve done some pretty interesting things, doll.” 

Moving your head as you eye roll at the “man” before you. “I’m scared to ask, but–”

“You’re interested if I had fucked anythin’?” 

“Honestly? Yeah.” You don’t know how to feel about Joel’s confession. On the one hand, you were intrigued by what Joel had done; on the other hand, it made you feel like you were stepping into a zone you weren’t comfortable with entering. “Wow, my old toy, fucking other toys? I’m guessing.” 

Joel chuckles. “Y’know your sister’s Barbie doll? Fucked her, Ken watched.”

A grimace appeared on your face as Joel's sudden statement made you feel like the cold rushed in from your bedroom. “Wow,” you started. “Wait, Barbie and Ken can become real, like you?” Joel nodded at your answer.

“Huh, well. You learn something new every day.” 

“Blame yourself, doll. I learned everything from you.”

Confusion rode your face, trying to act innocent like you had no reason behind Joel’s actions. “What do you mean?” You shrug.

Joel stands up, his hands draped by the stitched pockets of his jeans, his boots slowly connecting with the hardwood floors, causing you to walk backward at your leisurely pace. You and Joel were working in tandem—with each step he took, you took a step back. You felt slightly intimidated. In the back of your head, you never thought you would feel unnerved by a toy—a toy you never would’ve expected to come to life. 

That rush of cold flew through your back when you connected with the side of your closet, bringing your hands to the wall; that cold sensation connected with your hand. Joel’s looming figure had been present before you, his hand outstretched beside your head. Joel slowly moves his head toward your head; you feel his warm breath against you, causing your spine to chill — mentally blaming the wall. 

“C’mon, doll. You know exactly what I mean.” Joel’s voice made your breath hitch as you felt his mustache tickle against your neck. “I know what you want, your likes, know what you like to be called,” You feel Joel’s realistic fingers on your chin as he picks your head up to look into his eyes; you watch as he backs up from your ear. 

His soft but calloused hand was on your chin, slowly dragging his hand against the fabric of your shirt as you watched the wrinkles in your shirt flatten under the path his hand was sliding down your torso. You watched as the wrinkles disappeared, only to reaper after Joel’s hand moved from its position. Joel’s hand was slow but not too slow, like a snail’s pace, slow to the point where you felt each goosebump underneath his hand — under your shirt.

Joel’s hand had stopped on your waist, while his other hand was above your head as he leaned closer to your eyes. Bracing for the impact of Joel’s lips on yours, you close your eyes. 

The feeling of plump, soft lips against yours sent shivers traveling down your spine as you felt the grip on your waist was getting tighter — rougher. Your hands travel from the wall into Joel’s soft curls. You wanted Joel in the moment; you craved him — yearned for him. Memories of you dreaming of kissing Joel had finally come true; you didn't expect the kiss to feel so passionate, an end-of-the-world kiss — one that stopped the world from spinning.

The feeling of silk had flown through your fingers as you contorted your hands with Joel’s hair. Joel’s hands slid from your waist onto your ass — squeezing lightly, you gasped against his lips. 

Your heart skipping a beat seemed impossible, but Joel’s kisses begged to differ. Your hands slipped from Joel’s hair onto his face, and you felt his defined jawline and patchy beard; you felt soft but coarse underneath your palms, which was something you couldn’t imagine. Reminiscent of when your fingertips would travel against the painted beard, always wondering what it looked/felt like, at this moment, you can. 

Joel’s big hands leave an imprint on your ass; slowly, his hands start sliding down toward your inner thigh, bending his back closer to you so the connection of your lips doesn't break. “Jump,” Joel grumbles against your lips. You push your feet off the ground as Joel’s strength lifts you, chuckling against his lips, wrapping your legs around Joel’s waist; you feel his hands under your thighs, gripping into you with passion; you think his nails may leave crescent moons into your skin. 

Cold drywall leaves your back as Joel slowly turns you both around so your bed can face your back. With each step, your and Joel’s noses keep bumping into each other as your faces keep moving side to side from your passionate kiss. Joel’s mouth leaves yours as his lips trail down your jawline, lightly sucking. Your hands return to Joel's hair as his lips end on your neck.  

Lips on your neck, sucking, biting, Joel marking you with his lips, your moans kept escaping your lips as your fingers flowed through Joel’s hair like water. “Y’like that, baby?” Joel growled. You hiss through your teeth before answering. “Fuck, yes. I love it, Joel.”

Quickly turning his body, Joel sits on the edge of your bed. Your knees indent your mattress as you feel sitting down. His lips return to yours as Joel wraps his arms against the midsection of your back, melting your bodies together. Your hands make their way from Joel’s head onto his broad shoulders. Thinking the flannel was warming his skin, you wanted to get rid of it. 

Backing slightly away, you slip your hands down his hardened chest; you start to fumble with the first button. Quickly unbuttoning the first one, you were on your way to the next one; Joel took notice of your hands and broke the kiss to look at what you were doing. “What are ya doing, doll?”

“Trying to get this flannel off you,” You grumble, popping the second button off. 

“Lemme help.” 

Joel moves his arms from your waist onto his flannel, smiling at you as you watch him pop the buttons out the loops. You watch as your childhood crush takes off his flannel and throws it over your shoulder, chest hair littering his chest. You slowly bring your hand onto his chest—above where his heart should be — but you don't feel a bump vibrate against your hand. You remember that Joel isn't human, which somewhat shatters your heart. 

Joel notices your saddened eyes; he places his hand over yours and looks deep into your eyes, his brown eyes piercing into your soul. “J’so ya know, I may not have a heart, but my love f’you is more important than anything else in this goddamn world. You're one of the best things that’s ever happened to me.”

“I don't want to live in a world where I don't see your smile every day; it's a reminder t’myself that no matter what, my love for you is the most real thing for me.”

You smirk at Joel’s confession, quickly smashing your lips against his. The tears brimming your tear ducts, trickling down from your eyes, wiping your eyes as you back up and look at Joel. “You are such a softie, you know that?”

“Only for you, sweetheart.” Joel quickly pushed his lips against yours, wrapping his arms around your midsection and moving your arms around his neck. 

Feeling Joel’s smile against your lips, you're quickly surprised when you feel Joel stand up and, in one motion, spin you both around so your back is on your mattress. You can’t help but smile gleefully as he backs up from you — sliding your shirt up and planting kisses trailing from your chest to your navel. His thick fingers grab the waistband of your pants as he slides them down. “Lift your hips, doll.” You do as Joel commands; he slides your pants off your thighs and throws them in the corner where your hamper used to reside, leaving your underwear on, your cock hard and covered by your underwear. 

“Look a’that, y’hard f’me already, doll?” You chuckle at Joel; you gasp as you feel his lips press the tip of your hard-covered cock. With each kiss brought against the tip and the shaft of your cock, it feels like heaven to you, bringing you absolute bliss against your skin. You get your foot against Joel’s shoulder as your other one hangs off the edge of the bed, arching your back in pleasure as Joel’s mouth moves down your thigh. 

Joel looks up at you and smiles as he kisses your leg. Noticing the wet spot appears on your underwear. Pre-cum slowly escaping the slit of your cock. “Let’s get these underwear off you.” You didn't need Joel to tell you to lift your hips reflectively. You lifted your pelvis, and he slid the underwear off you. Your hard throbbing cock slaps against your navel, a line of pre-cum connects with your stomach. “God, you’re s’fuckin’ perfect, baby.” 

Standing up from his position, he softly presses his lips against yours, bringing his hand into the bend of your knee, his other hand holding the side of your face. Joel’s tongue licked your bottom lip, awaiting your mouth to open. Slightly parting your lips, Joel slips his tongue into your mouth, causing you to smile at Joel’s eagerness. 

“How do you feel?” Joel questions against your lips.

“Fan-fuckin-tastic.” You answer, bearing your teeth. “How about I make you feel even fuckin’ better.” Joel’s question came out as a statement, causing you to question his meaning. Without warning, Joel backs up from your face and laps his tongue on the shaft of your cock, making a moan escape from your mouth, sliding his tongue slowly up the head of your cock, moans escaping your mouth. “F-fuck, Joel,” You breathe. 

“Y’like that, baby?” 

You breathe out an answer as Joel starts playing the slit of your cock with his tongue. “Yes.” 

“Makin’ sure that you deserve somethin’. You’re too precious to be mistreated.”

Joel must've heard all the times you would complain to your best friend about how one guy seemed great but lacked something when it came to sex. Joel was showing what you’ve been craving for a guy to reciprocate when you pleasured them, but he wasn't expecting anything back; he was just glad to pleasure his boy first. 

Wrapping his mouth slowly around the tip of your cock, Joel slowly goes down the shaft of your length, causing you to moan and white knuckle your sheets as you throw your head back — arching your back and snapping your eyes shut in pleasure. 

His pace was slow but patient. Joel wanted to make you feel something you rarely experienced — over the moon. Wrapping his hands around the shaft of your cock, his fingers would let go for a moment before wrapping.

Dragging your fingers into Joel’s curls, you slowly push his head down, hoping he could speed up. “Fuck, Joel. Can you go faster, please?”

“I can do ya one better, doll.”

As Joel’s mouth felt warm around your cock, he started to go faster as you gasped in pleasure; you felt Joel’s hand slide from your thigh as he slowly began to tease your hole. The skin of your taint felt sensitive with each stroke of Joel’s finger teasing you; each swipe, each light prodding made your body shiver in anticipation. Your cock has never been in overdrive as much as this — Joel was slowly rising you towards your peak. Your cock twitches in Joel’s mouth showing the throbbing pain that was threatening to shoot out. 

Slowly and agonizing, Joel slides his mouth off your cock, swallowing his spit; Joel wipes the reminder off his lips with the back of his hand, glances at you, and chuckles as Joel strokes your cock. “Y’close, doll?”

“Yes,” You whimper. “So fuckin’ close. It hurts so much. Can I cum yet, Joel?”

A chuckle left his throat, a sly smirk appearing on his face as he stared at you. Joel stops pumping your cock — landing on your stomach, precum leaking from the slit. “Not yet, doll. We haven't had our fun yet.”

Lifting your legs, Joel slides his head down deeper in between your thighs. He laps his tongue against your aching hole; a shaky moan escapes your lips as you hold your legs up so Joel can get better access to your hole. His hands are planted on your inner thighs as he keeps his tongue against your taint. 

Joel’s tongue felt like magic against you, showing you things you’ve never felt before — things you’ve only imagined happening. His tongue sliding up and down, in and out of your hole, made you want to cum by how much Joel was treating you. 

His plump lips planting kisses against your taint made your toes curl — the bones could pop out, your nails digging into the skin of your thighs, your moans escaping from you with each movement of Joel’s lips and tongue was giving you pleasure. 

That sensation of something feeling pushed inside you came rushing in as you let go of one of your thighs, gripped the sheets below you, and threatened to rip them up. You look down at Joel, looking up at you with a smirk on his face; you notice what is being pushed inside you; Joel’s thick middle finger has taken a turn to please you. 

“Y’like that, don’t you, baby?”

“Mhmm,” You whimper, throwing your head back, closing your eyes, and biting your lip. 

“I told ya, I know what you like, basically what you’ve been yearnin’ for.” 

“But, you gotta let me know if it’s too much for you, baby. I can't read minds yet.”

“It’s it too much?” Joel questioned.

You shake your head to deny Joel’s question. “It’s just right, it’s so fuckin’ right,” You grit your teeth. 

Sliding another finger in, Joel’s pace had gone faster. You knew Joel was trying to test your limit; you never knew your limit; you were glad to try to figure it out with someone you trusted. 

“Look at that; your hole wraps around m’fingers; it keeps sucking me in no matter how hard I try to pull out.”

Sudden movements from your hips as you kept raising your hips and bringing them back down. Gritting your teeth, tiny whimpers left through your teeth. Pleasure flowed through your entire body — a new goal you never knew you could reach.

Joel would never admit this, but him being the reason whimpers were leaving your mouth, you squirming because of his fingers and mouth, he was fucking over the moon to be the first person ever to make you feel this way. 

“J-Joel?” You breathed.

“Yeah, doll?”

“Can I please suck your cock?” 

Joel was conflicted by your question; all he wanted to do was make you feel good, he wasn’t expecting anything in return, but he wanted to know what that perfect mouth of yours felt around his cock. 

Slipping his fingers outside your hole, aching for more, Joel smirks at you and opens his mouth to speak. “Yes, you can, doll.” As you sit up, you notice the length that resided in his jeans; your eyes almost pop from their sockets from what you have just seen. You’d never seen anything that big in porn, yes, but never in real life. 

Noticing your astonishment, Joel looked at his jeans and then back up at you. “Is this size good enough, sweetheart?” You nod your head. Sliding your back against the mattress, you slid so your knees hit the wood below you. Watching the eagerness flood Joel’s eyes made you feel that excitement swimming in your stomach. The button of his jeans popped above you, and hearing the zipper going down, you watched as Joel’s cock popped out from its restraints.

Joel’s throbbing cock bounced in front of you, precum leaking from the slit of Joel’s cock. In your eyes, Joel’s cock looked more realistic than plastic. You wouldn’t lie; you were a curious kid; you had removed Joel’s clothes before and only noticed a blob on where his dick was now. The veins traveled up the shaft of his cock, stopping at the mushroom tip of his cock. The happy trail from Joel’s tummy showed up his pubic hair that rested above the shaft of his cock. Your mouth went dry in anticipation. It was the first you had seen a dick this big and thick before and so close to your face. 

“You alright, doll?”

Shooting your eyes up at Joel, you can tell a bit of worry on his face. “Yeah, I-I’m fine. Just never seen a dick this big before,” You admitted. Bending down so his face is in front of you, softly placing his hand against your cheek in reassurance. “We can take it slow if you want to.” You nodded at Joel’s words as he planted his lips against your forehead and stood straight. Dragging Joel’s jeans down as your knuckles brushed up against the hair on Joel’s thighs, gravity stopping Joel’s jeans when they stop at his ankles, your hand wraps the shaft of his cock. You slowly wrap your lips around the tip of Joel’s cock, and you hear him exhale in pleasure. 

Slowly pushing your head down the shaft of Joel’s cock, lips wrapped tight, you feel the veins trace the skin of your lips as the head of Joel’s cock press into the back of your throat. A groan of pleasure escapes Joel’s lips as you back your head up. You push your head forward and back leisurely, and you can tell the pace makes Joel go crazy. His member in your mouth kept throbbing against the roof of your mouth. Suddenly, your pace went a little faster; you looked up and noticed Joel’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, his hands were in tight fists, his knuckles threatening to pop out from his hand. The taste of salt fell upon your tongue as you backed your head up from Joel’s cock. A line of spit mixed with precum connecting from your mouth to the tip of Joel’s cock was made apparent, eventually dropping onto the ground below you as you wrapped your hand around Joel’s cock and started pumping his shaft.

The moans escaping Joel’s lips were music to your ears as your moans were to Joel. “Fuck, baby. Y’so good at that. Those boys are so fuckin’ stupid.” His southern drawl causes summersaults in your stomach. Sliding your mouth back onto Joel’s cock, a deep moan escapes his lips as your lips were at a quick pace, your hands planted on Joel’s thighs, the hair on his thighs pressed up against your hand as the tip of Joel’s cock kept hitting the back of your throat.

Moans, grunts, whines, and whimpers were all escaping from Joel’s lips, his hands holding onto your head as his hips humped into your head, his cock pressing deeper – causing you to gag a couple of times. Your nose kept poking into where Joel’s pubic hair rested; the scent was intoxicating, causing your cock to leak with precum below you. 

Suddenly, Joel held your head – your throat grasping around his cock, causing you to gag more. Slobber escaping your mouth as with each inhale through your nose – resting on Joel’s hairy patch made it impossible to exhale without gagging. Your palms were getting sweaty against Joel’s meaty thighs, the hair on his legs feeling nonexistent against your slippery hands.

His hands slide your head back, and lines of spit connect from his cock to your top and bottom lips. Deep inhales and exhales leave your body as you watch Joel slightly shudder. His cock glistened in your spit, throbbing. Sweat littered Joel’s hairy chest and forehead; you swallowed the spit in the back of your throat from your excessive breathing. Your forehead felt heavy with sweat as you looked up at Joel; he slid his hand up his forehead, pushing the curls that had stuck to his forehead. “Fuck, sorry, baby. Y’mouth is so fuckin’ addictin’.” 

“Don’t think I’m finished with you yet, Joel,” You spoke, disregarding his apology. Quickly eager to show Joel what you meant, you pick up his cock and slide your tongue on the underside of Joel’s shaft. Lapping your tongue against his veins, you could hear Joel praise you from above. “So fuckin’ perfect, who wouldn’t want to treat you right?”

Bringing your tongue slowly down to make Joel squirm, you feel his body Joel a little bit as you are still holding his cock in your hand; you place your mouth around his ball sack and lightly suck on one of them. “OH, FUCK!” Joel groaned. Joel’s body felt like jelly – incapable of holding himself up; Joel hadn’t felt this level of pleasure before, from anything he’s ever fucked before. “You like that, baby?” You asked. “Yes,” Joel gritted his teeth. “God, I love it s’much.” Backing your mouth up, you stroke Joel’s cock and watch Joel hold his head back and moans escaping his lips. Bending down, Joel places his hands between the fold of your armpits and picks you up from your knees. 

Planting his lips against yours, the kiss you shared between the two of you felt hungry, Lips mashing against each other, teeth clashing against each other. Joel’s arms holding you tightly against his torso. Joel was fucking starving for you as his lips were latching against your cheeks, jawline, against the skin of your neck. That feeling of Joel’s teeth against your neck made you know Joel was marking you as his. Your nails drag against Joel’s soft curls as you enjoy Joel’s mouth, bringing his head up back against your lips. Sweat from Joel’s chest was seeping through your shirt. You wanted to take it off to feel Joel’s skin against yours. Backing your head away from Joel’s, his head following suit as he watches you attempt to take your shirt off.

Holding the hem of your shirt, Joel helps you slide your shirt off your head, wrapping your arms around Joel’s neck, him wrapping his arms against your lower back. The warmth of each other’s bodies radiated against each other. Your cocks rubbed against each other; the warmth you both shared was hot enough to blow the roof off your bedroom. This experience felt surreal, like a dream you didn’t want to wake up from. 

Backing his head away from your lips, you notice a look of dominance in Joel’s eyes, which darken as he opens his mouth to speak. “Get on that bed, so I can fuck you the way you, a good boy like you should be fucked.”

“But, what if I’ve been a bad boy?” You tease. 

Leaning his head toward your ear. “Then I’ll have to punish you.”

“Get on that fuckin’ bed,” Joel commanded. You listened to Joel, letting your arms go from around his neck, your knees bent on the bed, as you pushed yourself to land your head where your pillow rested, your back collided with the soft cloud-like material. You watched Joel climb on the bed, stopping as he was positioned right between your legs. “Put your leg on my shoulder.”

Compiling to what Joel commanded, your ankle rested on Joel’s broad shoulder. A line of spit leaves Joel’s mouth and connects to the tip of his cock, rubbing the spit to lube up his cock. Slowly leaning over you, one next to your head, fingers spread apart. Joel moves his hand from the tip to his shaft as he starts to tease you – making you shudder in anticipation. 

Moving his cock to poke your hole makes you yearn for him every slight push into you. Hisses escaped your gritted teeth as you craved to feel good. “Joel, can you please fuck me?”

“Nuh uh, bad boys don’t get to beg,” Joel grinned.

Joel had let go of his length and placed his other hand next to the other side of your head. His hips were grinding into you, making you gasp and make your spine chill. Joel’s cock kept rubbing up against your sensitive tip, making you physically shudder and making your cock feel like it was about to burst. “I can tell how much you love this. M’cock grinding up against yours before I get you pregnant.” Your breath hitched as Joel’s voice made you want him more – you’ve never wanted anyone this bad before. 

“Joel, please. I need you.”

“How bad do you need me, sweetheart?” Joel growled into your ear. 

“So fuckin’ much, it's unbearable.”

“Well then, are you going to be my good boy?’

Nodding your head, you shut your eyes and licked your lips in anticipation. You notice that your ankle comes off Joel’s shoulder and collides with the mattress. You feel his lips press against yours briefly as you open your eyes and see Joel’s brown orbs looking into yours before he opens his mouth to speak. “Well, I can’t keep my good boy waitin’.” Looking in between your bodies, Joel adjusts his cock; you feel it press into you for a split second. He looks back up to you, “You ready, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, I am,” You answer. 

Joel slowly pushes in, and you feel the tip agonizingly stretch you out. Your moans rattle the walls next to you both. “Does it hurt, baby?” You shake your head, denying Joel’s question. His shaft is halfway in before he pulls out fast. You gasp before breathing heavily. “Damn, baby. Y’so fuckin’ tight,” Joel commented. Once again, Joel slides his cock into you, making your moans more intense than before. Halfway in, Joel rocks his hips back and forth slowly into you. Your eyes snapped shut intensely, straining your eyelids. The pain was starting to feel good, too good.

“Is this okay, baby?”

Opening your eyes, you notice the concern in Joel’s eyes. He looked so sweet, caring, and compassionate; you’ve always seen him like that growing up. “Yes, Joel. It’s okay,” You smile. Leaning down to kiss you, Joel’s hips still rocking into your hole, moans exiting your mouth and entering Joel’s. Feeling Joel slowly stretch you out felt indescribable; it felt good, but you did want Joel to go faster. “Joel,” You moan against Joel’s mouth. “Yes, baby?” 

Joel backs up to hear you properly. Before you could get a word out to Joel, one push further in, and you feel the base of Joel’s cock clap into you, which echoes throughout the room. Joel realizes what this means; a sly grin appears on Joel’s lips. “Hold that thought, doll,” Joel commanded.

His pace was faster and rougher. Claps rang throughout the room with each thrust, like an audience applauding at the end of a play. Your hands gripped the sheets or ran your hand down Joel’s back while Joel had his hand on the headboard. It felt like Joel had read your mind at that moment, knowing that you wanted more and that he would give it to you. “I can tell y’wanted this before you even said it, baby. Could hear ya screamin’ at me to fuck you harder.’

“Y’wanted this, didn’t ya?” Joel grunted. 

“God, yes, Joel. I’ve wanted something like this for so long, begging for it. This feels fucking amazing.”

“I’can say the same about this boy pussy of yours, grippin’ onto me so tight, it doesn’t want to let go, and I don’t think I want it to.” You bring your hands up to Joel’s back and dig your nails into his sleek skin; an exhale leaves Joel’s mouth as the pain settles in, but it subsides. 

“Mark me, baby. Make me yours.” 

Your nails drag down Joel’s back until you reach the small of Joel’s back. Joel bows his head, grabs your chin, and smashes his lips against yours, but his thrusts stop. You don’t feel anything warm inside you, so you know he didn’t cum. Wrapping your arms around his neck, Joel lifts you for a second so you can get up from the sheets below you. Noticing Joel starts to lay himself down, you quickly move your hands on the mattress to keep yourself from crashing into Joel. You still feel Joel’s cock inside you as his hips start to lift up and down. 

That time when you complained about only being in one position with a guy, Joel did hear you and was giving you something you wanted. 

“Sorry for the sudden stop, wanted to fuck you more.”

Backing your head up, you watched as Joel bore his teeth and started to fuck you senselessly. Wrapping his arms tight around your lower back. Your nails dug into the soft material under your sweaty palms; you could feel the fibers begin to tear a bit. “You like this, don’t ya, baby? Being fucked like the sluts I’ve seen you watch on your phone.”

“Craving to be them, wanting someone to fuck you till you can’t feel your legs no more, huh?”

“Yes.” You whined. 

“Wantin’ someone as strong and big as those guys you watch to be able to fill your sweet, tight, boy pussy with hot cum.”

Nodding your head. “Mhmm.”

“Well, I’m here. I’m gonna satisfy your needs, your aches, your cravings for you to be filled with cum. If anyone else tries. I’ll gladly show them who can treat you better and fuck you in front of them, understood, baby.”

“Mhmm.” 

Joel’s hand connects with your ass, a hard smack against it; a cry leaves your mouth. “I need a fuckin’ yes, boy.”

“Yes, Joel, yes.” You whined.

You felt something move from inside you. You see, Joel looks to wear your cock, but he’s looking in between you both. “You feel my cock twitchin’ inside you, doll? You want me to cum inside you?”  “Yes,” You quickly answer and nod. “You’re leakin’ all over my stomach, baby; you wanna cum too?” 

You whimper out an answer. “Then, I better give my boy what he wants.”

Joel slides his cock out of you and lays you on your stomach as he comes up from behind you and slowly teases you. You feel his cock glide between the bends of your ass cheeks, feelings his balls press into them. “Damn, your ass is achin’ f’me right now. I will give you what you deserve, boy.” 

That feeling of being stretched out came back as you rested your forehead on the bed. Joel’s hands dug into your skin; each push of his length made your moans push out of you more. It was like your body was in heat — Joel’s heat. He was an animal in heat when it came to you. Nodding your head, you felt Joel’s hand on your throat and his lips against your ear — his mustache tickling it. “I’m so –thrust–  close to – cummin’ inside this tight ass of yours, baby. Do you want my cum to swim inside you?”

“Yes, Joel. I fuckin’ do.” 

“Then let me give you what you deserve.” Backing his head up, Joel dug into your skin like he was kneading dough; his thrusts were rough, almost splitting you in half. You could feel his cock throb inside you as you felt your shaft pulsating. You knew you were about to cum. “Fuck, I can’t get enough of you, baby. I don’t wanna stop after I cum in you.” “Joel, I’m so close. Keep going.”

“Fuck,” Joel growled. “I love it when you beg like that.”

His pace was going faster, and it felt the tip of your cock felt like it was going to explode with your cum. “Fuck, Joel. I’m gonna cum.” 

“Fuck, baby. Me too.’

“Here it comes,” Joel gritted his teeth. 

With one final push, you feel your cum shoot out onto the sheets below you, and you also feel Joel’s cum swim inside you. Light breaths are escaping both of you as you feel Joel slide his cock out of you; a squelching sound is heard as Joel’s cock finally dislodges from your hole. A sigh of relief exits Joel’s mouth as he connects his back to the bed. Turning your neck, you see Joel — soft cock against his stomach as you see his chest dip and rise from the breaths he’s taking.

Picking yourself up from your position, you lay down next to Joel, your head resting on his sweaty, hairy chest. Joel’s arm wraps around you as he pulls you closer to him. 

“So, was that everything you’ve ever wanted?” Joel questioned. 

Nodding your head against his chest. “Yeah, and better than what I could imagine.”

Joel chuckles at your statement, and you join him. Once the laughter dies down, a realization hits him like a bag of bricks. “Y’know, for a moment, I forgot that you’re running off to college without me. Followin’ those dreams and gettin’ your degree.”

“Joel,” You start.

“Havin’ a life, a career, findin’ someone who will love you as much as I do.”

“Joel,” You repeat. 

“Havin’ kids of your own, playin’ with their own action figures or dolls, and I’ll be at the bottom of some —”

“JOEL.” 

Joel jumped at your sudden outburst; he was looking at you instead of the ceiling. He saw you staring at him; he felt frightened but safe simultaneously. You suddenly straddle his lap, his hands on your waist, molding his hands onto you. “You’re coming with me to college.” 

“W-what?” Joel smiled. “When did you come to that decision?” 

“When you gave the most beautiful profession of love when I was on your lap, it made me realize something.” Joel awaited your realization, but he couldn’t lie; you sitting naked on his lap like that, faces inches away from each other, he was starting to get horny again. “I know you can never be real, but that’s okay; it sucks that we won’t grow old together, but you’ll always be there for me, and if I do meet someone, you’ll always be the first person I’ve ever loved, Joel.”

A smile appeared on Joel’s face; you couldn’t tell if sweat or a tear was falling from Joel’s eye when he quickly rolled you on your back and was inches away from you. His smell was intoxicating; the sweat mixed with lust made your cock twitch like crazy. “You’re such a softie, y’know that?” Joel quoted. 

“Only for you, sweetheart,” You quoted. 

“Now, how do you feel about one more round?” Joel questioned. 

“Well, everyone will be out for a while.”

“Should I take my time?”

“Joel, fuckin’ show me a good time.” 

“Okay, my good boy, lemme show you a good time,” Joel states, kissing your lips. Feeling the love from Joel’s kisses, you realize you didn’t need anyone to love you as much as Joel did, and you were fine with that. You didn’t care that he wasn’t real; he felt he was real to you, and that’s all you need.

[joelmillerisapunk]

Beach Daddy VI. One Last Time

bfd!joel miller x f!reader

series masterlist masterlist

wordcount: 13,941

summary: you find yourself in Joel's arms once more, torn between the love you share and the dreams that pull you apart.

warnings: 18+, age gap, finally finally unprotected p in v, some cute stuff goin on here, uses of the names darlin and babygirl, this involved a lot of me going "ahhhh" and "whyyy" and then "yesss" I didn't leave you with a mean cliffhanger this time.

notes: thank you to everyone for your love on this fic, I truly never thought this would be as loved as it is <3 I can't thank you guys enough for your support and the likes, comments and reblogs. Truly you guys have made this that much more fun to write. AND thank you to everyone who has been so so patient with me as I finished this chapter. I only have one hand to type at the moment so this took 50 years. ty @saradika-graphics as always for the divider

Why don't you stay with me, share all your secrets tonight

We can make believe the morning sun never will rise

Come and lay you're head on this big brass bed. We'll be all right as long as you stay with me

YOU.

The dark sky seems even darker through the tinted windows of the black car that Joel has sent to pick you up. He sounds urgent on the phone; when you tell him that you need to talk, he tells you that you have a lot to discuss, but he doesn't want to talk over the phone.  Eventually, you agree to have his driver pick you up and take you to his penthouse. Secretly, you're glad that he suggested meeting in person. You don't want to go over everything and why you left without saying goodbye, with your two roommates listening to every word of your conversation. Lin acts as though your life is more interesting than all of the reality TV shows she binge-watches every weekend.

The car is just as luxurious as you should have expected after seeing all of the amenities that the Miller family is used to, but you're still surprised at how supple the leather seats are as you slide across them for your long ride across New York. It's nice to spend the drive relaxed and not on the edge of your seat, afraid the cab driver is going to hit a pedestrian trying desperately to cross the street. You remind yourself not to get comfortable with this type of luxury; it's not going to last.

“Is there anything I can do for you to make the drive more comfortable, Miss?" Joel's driver calls back from the front seat.

“No, everything is perfect, thank you," you answer.

“There are snacks and beverages stocked for you if you change your mind."

There's sparkling water in the cupholder next to you, mysteriously maintained at the perfect temperature. You crack the seal and let the bubbles tickle your throat as you watch the skyscrapers pass by your window. You should have guessed that Joel's penthouse would be on the Upper East Side, but you can't help but stare at the buildings and how extravagant everything seems compared to your dumpy little neighborhood. The driver pulls to a stop in front of a tall building and gets out to open your door for you.

The night sky is littered with stars, which are muted by the bright lights of Joel's building. A doorman dressed in a uniform opens the front door for you and escorts you to the elevator, where he presses the button for the penthouse and backs out with a lift of his hat. You ride the elevator in silence, your heart beating increasingly faster as you pass each floor with a ding of the elevator. You can't help but wonder if Joel is angry with you for leaving the Bahamas without so much as a word. You hope it hasn't hurt him, but after your fight with Sarah, you couldn't stay, and you knew that Joel and you could never have a future together, especially when his only daughter hated you. Worst of all was the reason you were at his home in the first place. You couldn't let him risk his reputation for you. That photographer didn't need to have the opportunity to take more pictures of you together. You're convinced you're not worth the risk. The elevator stops at the top floor, and the doors slowly slide open to reveal Joel's front entry, a set of floor-to-ceiling glazed glass doors. You ring the small buzzer, and a few seconds later, Joel's unmistakable form approaches the glass.

“Darlin'," Joel says with a warm smile as he slides the door open to reveal his face.

You're relieved to be greeted so warmly. You had told yourself over and over again on the ride over that you couldn't pursue anything with Joel, but as soon as you see him, you have to fight to suppress your feelings for the man. “Joel, it's nice to see you again. Thank you so much for sending a car, although you really didn't have to."

“I know I didn't have to, but I wanted to," Joel says, reaching out his hand to you.

After a slight hesitation, you take it, and he leads you into his penthouse. The interior is decorated in a modern style with sleek lines and crisp edges, giving the entire space a clean and wealthy feel. A large statement dining room table takes up a large portion of the space.

It's glowing from the tiny flames of tealight candles spanning the entire length of the table. The light flickering off all of the surfaces adds a subtle softness to the sharp lines of the room. Joel pulls out a chair for you.

“I don't know if you've eaten, but I had my chef prepare a little something before he left for the night."

“I can always eat," you say with a small smile of thanks before he disappears into the kitchen.

He returns with two artful plates of filet mignon and asparagus spears. He sets a plate in front of you and the other in front of the chair directly across from you. He pours a generous glass of wine for each of you before taking his seat.

“This is absolutely beautiful," you say as you glance around the room.

“It is, isn't it?" Joel says looking around the room, too, before continuing. "Honestly, I tend to forget how nice this place is. Typically, when I'm in New York, I get so wrapped up in work that I forget to enjoy it."

“Well, you should slow down more often," you say, not exactly sure how friendly to be with the man you'd almost slept with and then ghosted.

“Well then, to more happy nights," Joel says, raising his glass to you.

You sigh, not picking up your glass to meet his. “Joel, don't you think we should talk about the photographer? We can't act as if nothing happened."

Joel sighs, too, and sets his glass back down on the table. “I know that we need to talk about what happened. I am sure you have a lot of questions for me. I'm honestly surprised that you even agreed to come here after everything my family and guests put you through. I just wanted to spend some time with you before we had to talk about all of that unpleasantness."

You're shocked that Joel is worried about you not showing up; he always seems so confident and put together. The entire time you had been worried he wouldn't want to see you again when he was worried about the same thing. “I was afraid you wouldn't want to see me again," you admit sheepishly.

“Babygirl, I would have to be crazy not to want to see you again."

Heat bursts into your cheeks, and you're thankful that the light is low enough to hide your blush.

“I have mentally kicked myself every day for not going to you right after I got back from chasing off that photographer. Then, when I woke up the next day, I found out you were gone, and it was too late. After that, I figured you needed some space, understandably. Your vacation was anything but relaxing," Joel says as he rubs the back of his neck.

“I should have at least stayed to say goodbye, but at the time, I didn't feel as though I could stay."

“I found out from some of my staff that you and Sarah were heard getting into an argument. No one knew what it was about, and I couldn't get a straightforward answer out of Sarah. What did she say to make you feel like you needed to leave?"

You look down at your plate and take a slow bite, trying to decide just how much of the fight with Sarah you want to disclose to her father. The meat is so tender it feels as though it melts in your mouth; you swallow reluctantly before speaking. “Sarah found out that I was Todd's previous girlfriend. She obviously wasn't happy about it, and things got pretty heated. I didn't want to stay after that."

Joel stares at you as though trying to get you to go into the horrible things his daughter had actually said to you. It's hard for you to understand why you still feel the need to protect Sarah from her own shitty behavior, but you hold your tongue anyway. “I know there is more to it than that."

“None of that matters anymore," you say, looking down at your plate again to avoid his piercing gaze. “We are going in completely different directions in our lives, and I doubt that we will ever cross paths again. We are from completely different worlds."

“You are right," Joel responds, watching you carefully. “You two are completely different. She is turning into everything I hoped she wouldn't, and you, well, you are… real."

The silence between you is only interrupted by the soft clinks of your silverware against your plates.

“I wasn't able to catch up with that photographer," Joel says softly, almost ashamed.

“I know," you respond, finally lifting your eyes to meet his.

“What do you mean?" Joel's eyebrows furrow together, clearly confused by what you are alluding to.

“Right before the flight I was on took off, an unknown number sent me a picture of us in the cove."

Tears start to well up in your eyes. Joel jumps up from his side of the table and is next to you in an instant. He grabs your hands from where they are resting on your lap. Even as upset as you are, the feeling of his hands on yours makes your entire body feel warm.

“Baby, why on earth did you keep this to yourself? If I would have known that he was blackmailing you, I would have had someone standing guard at your apartment day and night."

“I thought that if I disappeared, they would leave you alone, but whoever it was, they found me. That's why I came to find you at your office."

“What do you mean they found you?" Joel asks, concern flooding his eyes.

“Someone followed me back to my apartment. I ran down the street, but they must have noticed where I lived because the next time I opened the door, there was a box waiting for me.

Joel stares at you, absorbing every word you speak.

“The picture was inside of the box with a note that said, 'Tell Joel he is running out of time.' That's when I decided I needed to come and find you. I am so sorry, Joel. I thought this would all just go away if I walked out of your life."

"That son of a bitch," Joel curses, releasing your hands as he stands and strides toward the balcony. Your hands, now devoid of his warmth, feel empty and cold.

"Who?" you inquire as Joel retreats, opening the door to step outside onto the balcony. You rise to your feet, fully intent on following him when he doesn't respond to your question. You make your way out to the balcony slowly, a sense of awe washing over you. You've never been inside a home as luxurious as this one.

The balcony sprawls out before you, offering an incredible view of the New York skyline. The distant buildings cast a glow that lights up the night sky like stars anchored to the earth. It would be breathtaking if not for the tense conversation hanging in the air between you two.

Joel settles onto an outdoor sectional in front of a fire pit nestled within the coffee table. The lavishness of such amenities never fails to astonish you. You take a seat next to him and look at him with expectation in your eyes, but when he still doesn't answer your question, you press further.

"Joel, who is trying so hard to drag you through the mud? Surely, it isn't just about money. If that were the case, they would have sold the photo already, and it would be everywhere by now." You pause for a moment before continuing with conviction in your voice. "I'm sure someone would pay a lot for that picture. This seems much more personal."

"You're right, babygirl," Joel responds with a slight smile playing on his lips as he gazes into the slowly flickering flames before him: "You are very perceptive; you really will make an excellent lawyer." 

Your eyes meet his with determination: "I hope I get to be one," you say thoughtfully before adding with concern. "But I don't know how focused I will be if I am constantly having to watch over my shoulder or fend off journalists curious about our situation." 

Joel sighs at your comment and looks out over the cityscape below—a silent acknowledgment that perhaps you were more direct than he expected. Even though you're not in the public eye like he is, this situation still has the potential to jeopardize your future career.

"I am sorry for dragging you into my messy family drama," Joel finally offers, his eyes softening as he turns to face you.

"Someone in your family is trying to blackmail you? Who would do that?" you ask, your shock evident in the way your eyebrows shoot up towards your hairline. You watch as Joel struggles to articulate an explanation.

"I believe I mentioned a bit about my father and our strained relationship while I was growing up," Joel says, his gaze drifting away from you.

"Yes, a little, right after we watched the dolphins," you recall, encouraging him to continue.

"Well, a significant part of our issues was his constant absence. When I was younger, I convinced myself that his work kept him busy, but after his death, I discovered that it was likely due to an affair he was having."

"Oh, Joel, I'm so sorry," you say, at a loss for words. The thought of discovering infidelity after already grieving the loss of your parents is unimaginable to you.

Joel continues, "I don't know how long the affair lasted, but at some point, the other woman became pregnant. I found out about Blaine some time ago—my half-brother, the product of my father's long-hidden affair. I don't even know if my father ever met his other son."

Curiosity piqued, you ask, "Have you ever met him?"

"No, I searched for him for years without success. Once I finally located him, I had my security team investigate him. To put it mildly, he's made some very poor life choices. So, I never pursued a meeting with him."

You reach out and take Joel's hand in yours, feeling the tension in his fingers as they intertwine with yours. He looks at your joined hands, seemingly finding it difficult to meet your gaze.

"It wasn't long after he discovered a connection to the Miller family through a DNA match that I started receiving messages demanding money. My father made it clear that Blaine was to inherit nothing. When I didn't respond, he began threatening my family members."

"Oh no," you say, your voice laced with sympathy as you run your thumb lightly over his.

"I had my security team focused on protecting my extended family. I was naive to think he wouldn't have me followed to the Bahamas. My oversight led to us being photographed. Blaine, my delinquent half-brother, must be the one trying to use you to get to me," Joel concludes, his guilt apparent in his eyes.

"Joel, this isn't your fault," you reassure him, squeezing his hand and trying to catch his eye.

"It is my fault. I'm the reason you're being dragged into this blackmail," Joel insists, finally meeting your gaze.

"If it weren't me, it would have been someone else," you counter, trying to alleviate his sense of responsibility.

"Don't you see?" Joel asks, frustration creeping into his tone. "If there had been another woman he could have used against me, he would have. There's never been anyone I cared for enough. I believe Blaine had us watched for quite some time before you left. He must have realized there was something more between us that he could exploit."

"What is between us?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, as you grip your hands together tightly in your lap.

Joel hesitates, the weight of his words hanging in the air. He looks at you with an intensity that makes it hard to breathe. "There's enough between us that I couldn't bear the thought of him hurting you," Joel finally admits, not breaking eye contact.

A pang of disappointment hits you, but you push it aside. "Oh," is all you manage to say, feeling a sense of deflation. You chide yourself for harboring such feelings. You know better than to want him in that way. He's older, and he's the father of your former friend. A relationship between you two could only lead to heartache. Yet, despite all logic, you can't help but yearn for him to feel more for you.

Joel stands with you, gently taking hold of your arms and turning you to face him. He pulls you close, and you can feel the heat of his body against yours as you place your hands on his chest.

"Babygirl, you are... irresistible," Joel confesses, his words sending a jolt through you. "I found myself seeking you out, just to spend a few moments with you. I tried to keep my distance, but I couldn't resist my desire to be near you, to hear your laugh, or to be the reason for the smile on your beautiful lips."

His words ignite a flutter in your chest, and you struggle to steady your breathing, your hands moving up to caress his neck as your fingers thread through his hair.

"And that day I took you to watch the dolphins, I knew all my efforts were in vain. I gave in to my feelings for you, despite knowing it was wrong. I wanted nothing more than to take you right there on the sand of that beach."

Joel's lips graze yours, the proximity of his mouth making it hard to concentrate on anything but the possibility of what might come next.

"I let my guard down because I thought it was safe. Safe for both of us. I liked the man I was when I was alone with you. On the yacht, I was more myself with you than I had been in a really long time. You awakened a desire in me that I didn't know was still there."

"I couldn't stop thinking about you," you whisper, your lips brushing against Joel's, your body instinctively leaning into his.

His urgency matches yours as his lips meet yours in a passionate kiss. You explore the contours of his chest and neck with your hands, finally allowing yourself to indulge in the moment. His tongue slips into your mouth, and a soft moan escapes you, prompting him to pull you even closer. After a few intense seconds, you regain your senses and pull back, your breath coming in short gasps as you stare into his face, taking in his handsomeness.

"What's wrong?" Joel asks, a frown forming on his lips.

"I'm moving in two days," you say, trying to rationalize your hesitation. "I just don't want to start feeling more for you just to have to leave again."

"I have a home not far from Harvard. I travel constantly all over the world. This isn't really about the distance between us, is it?" Joel challenges gently.

"No," you admit reluctantly.

"Then what is it about?" he asks, moving closer, his gaze locked onto yours.

"It's about how complicated this is, with Sarah and Blaine... it's all just so much," you confess, unable to trust yourself to look at his enticing mouth.

"What if we stopped worrying about how complicated this is and just... gave in?" Joel suggests, brushing a lock of hair from your face. He leans in and kisses you sweetly once more before pulling back to gauge your reaction.

“Just for tonight”, you whisper, biting your bottom lip. Sleeping with Joel, even for just one night, is probably a bad decision, but you don't care at the moment. You are so caught up in the emotions he sends spiraling through you that you can't bring yourself to say no. At his touch, your skin is on fire, and the taste of him lingers on your lips even after he pulls away.

It's all the invitation he needs to pick you up and kiss you again and again. He trails a soft touch up your side, and your skin prickles at his wandering hand. He lays you back against the soft cushions, and you catch a brief glimpse of his skin as his shirt billows. You can't help but run your hand up his stomach, feeling each well-defined ripple of muscle. Goosebumps appear in waves along your body as the heat of his chest travels up your arms.

You help him out of his shirt as the firelight sends dancing shadows across his skin. His linen shirt falls to the floor in an unwanted pile. Joel leans down to you and settles his hand upon your cheek. The gesture is adoring, which makes your heart ache with happiness. You have never been looked at the way Joel gazes at you.

"You are so unabashedly beautiful, baby," he says, his eyes narrowing in a hungry gaze that leaves you wanting more. His thumb traces the soft contour of your mouth, melting away your thoughts of anything but him. His deep eyes penetrate your soul, warming you to your core. You have to have him.

You reach for the waist of his jeans, but he stops your hand and grins at you. "Slow down," he says. "If we can only have this one night, I want to remember every second of it. I want to memorize every curve of your body, every sound that crosses your gorgeous lips, every look on your face." If you are only going to allow me one night, I am going to make it count."

His lips meet the nape of your neck, making your entire body shudder. Every kiss and soft touch of his lips along your collarbone has you melting. Joel's hands slide to your waist, and he tugs up the fabric of your shirt. He gently eases the garment over the top of your head. You feel his eyes devour the sight of you in your black lace bralette.

A gust of wind sneaks through the holes of the lace, making your nipples even harder than they already are at the sight of him. Joel's lips trail down your neck and to your breasts, teasing you with his tongue. He kisses along the upper barrier of your bra, leaving you panting and writhing beneath him as you long for him to take your hardened peak between his lips.

Again, you reach for his belt and busy yourself undoing it. Your fingers fumble with the clasp, and he chuckles softly at you, but eventually, it gives way, allowing you to access his top button and zipper. You want to rip the fabric from his body, but you remember that he had told you to move slowly, so you do your best to keep your trembling fingers calm.

The moon continues to rise higher in the sky as you slowly and methodically abandon each piece of Joel's clothing. You are ready to follow his lead, but Joel insists on slowing everything down for you, making your body physically ache with desire for him. He unclips the clasp of your bra and lets it fall to the floor at his feet. His soft kisses trail every part of your chest as he makes his way down to your belly button. Your arousal burns inside of you even as the cool breeze of the evening nips at your naked body. Joel pulls you closer to him. The heat from the fire only warms one side of your bodies.

"Are you cold?" he whispers against your neck, his breath fanning out and warming your flesh.

Shivers continue to move down your naked body in response to him and the breeze, but you do your best to give him a verbal response, even though your ability to speak has evaporated when his lips met your bare skin. You can only manage a slight shake of your head. However, Joel sweeps you into his arms and back into the house. His bare feet are soft on the cold tile of the hallway, and he uses his back to push open a door. You can barely make out his bedroom in the dark, a skylight offering the only light in the room directly over the bed.

The bed is covered in a white goose-down duvet that flutters in response to Joel helping you into the pillows. Then, as the blanket settles around you, he crawls over top of you. You grab the sides of his face and pull him closer to you, your thumbs massaging against his cheekbones.

"I am so lucky to have met you. Taking that trip was the best decision I have ever made," you pant, and you kiss him hard, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth, your teeth clamping down on the soft flesh, leaving him leaning into you with want. You can feel his hardness against your thigh, which only serves to spur you on to kiss him deeper. When you release him, he smiles down at you, his eyes glistening in the moonlight.

"I’m the lucky one. I will always be the lucky one." Joel's fingertips brush your cheek as he moves a loose lock of hair away from your face.

He kisses you back and lowers his body to meet yours. You lift yourself up to him, wanting to get as close to him as possible. You need him so badly; the thought of there being any distance between you at all is unimaginable. His need for you is also apparent, and he presses himself closer to you, his hardness poised at your entrance. The heat of your bodies mingles in the warmth of his bed.

You grip the duvet cover in both of your hands, anticipating him pushing inside of you, but he is still gazing down at you, taking his time.

You are unable to fight your longing for him for another second, so you don't. With both hands, you grip his muscular back, spreading your legs wider to welcome him in. His smile shifts to a smirk, and then, he is moving inside of you. Your head tips back, and an ethereal moan leaves your lips as he fills you completely.

Joel takes his time with this as well, creating a smooth, steady rhythm that has you hanging onto him as your only grip left on reality. Your hands trail down to his firm ass, and touching him in such an intimate place sends another shiver of pleasure through your body.

Before long, you feel your body begin to spasm around him, and it is all you can do to keep oxygen in your lungs. Joel's lips are on your neck, and you can feel him increasing his pace to match your moans as you tumble over the edge, crying out his name in a voice you don't even recognize as your own. Joel keeps you at your peak for what seems like an eternity. By the time he tightens up and grunts a few times, filling you with warmth, you can hardly handle the intensity of what he is doing to your body.

After Joel finishes, he doesn't move off of you right away. Instead, he kisses you softly, taking his time, his tongue dancing around yours, as if he were savoring the taste of you. When he finishes, he kisses you a couple of more times, quickly, and then moves so that he is resting next to you.

He pulls you to his chest, cradling your head against him and running his fingers through your hair. You nestle against him, wrapping an arm around his chest. You want to tell him all of the emotions you are feeling in your heart, but you don't dare. You had said just once. How could you lie in his arms and tell him you love him when this wasn't just your first time making love, it was also goodbye? You can't do that to him. So, instead, you lie there in his arms, letting your heavy eyes close, listening to the rhythm of his heart and his breathing, wishing this was just the first time and not the last, but nothing can be done to change your circumstances.

This will have to be the end.

You wake up a few hours later, and Joel is still awake. You know by the look in his eyes that he wants you again. Your instincts say no, you shouldn't do this again, but the fact that you have already made love once, and the night isn't over, spurs you on. Before you can stop yourself, you are mounting him, and with him buried deep within you, you rock your hips, letting that feeling of euphoria wash over you again. You continue for hours until you are both exhausted. 

Finally, you begin to fall back to sleep and settle next to him, but your mind is too busy to let you fall asleep completely. You watch the look in Joel's eyes as he looks over at you. Your breath slowly starts to settle back to an average pace. He stares at you as though he can't look away.

—

The soft glow of early morning dusts the starlit sky. He kisses your lips so softly you aren't sure if it's real or if the entire steamy night has been a dream. He lays his head back on one of the many pillows and closes his eyes. A small hint of a smile still lingers on his lips. Joel wraps a soft blanket around your naked body in a protective way. You melt into his side and can feel his heartbeat. You listen to the steady rhythm of his breaths until they slow. You know he has fallen asleep. Despite the heaviness of your eyelids, your mind doesn't want to rest.

Joel has a way about him that makes you feel safe, wanted, and, dare you think it, loved. You haven't felt that way in a long time. This one night with Joel puts three years with Todd to shame. You can't see yourself ever finding any man as wonderful as Joel again. You feel a piece of your heart break, knowing this can't last… that you won't let this last. Knowing that everyone in Joel's life will make sure that you won't even get a chance to try. You don't want the ugliness of reality to ruin the perfect night you have shared.

Joel was right. If you were only going to have one night together, you needed to make it count. Rather than giving in to your thoughts, you close your eyes and fall asleep in his arms.

When you wake up, it takes you a few moments for your eyes to adjust to the morning light streaming through the skylight. You're at Joel's house, in his bed. The smell of his sandalwood cologne lingers on your skin and the silky sheets. You roll to your side and realize that you're alone. You sit straight upright, holding the sheets to your bare chest, as you look around the room. The door is cracked open, and you can hear the clinking of dishes coming from down the hall.

You drape your legs over the side of the bed, scanning the floor. After an unsuccessful search, you realize your clothes are still on the balcony. You make your way into what you assume is Joel's ensuite, pull one of his shirts from the closet, and slip it over your shoulders. After rinsing your face in the sink, washing away yesterday's makeup, you silently make your way down the hall back to the kitchen.

Joel is humming a light tune while he's scrambling eggs in a frying pan. You stand and watch him as he continues cooking, humming to himself, and occasionally smiling. Your heart lifts at the thought that those smiles are for you.

“Good morning," you say in a lighthearted tone, pretending as though you hadn't been watching him.

“A very good morning," Joel answers with a small wink.

“I hope you don't mind that I borrowed this. I couldn't seem to find my clothes this morning."

Joel laughs and splits the scrambled eggs onto two plates.

“It looks a lot better on you. You can borrow it anytime you like," he says, not taking his eyes off of you.

“Oh wow, you cook too. What can't you do, Joel?" you ask and take a bite of eggs into your mouth.

Joel pulls out a paper bag full of pastries and places each one carefully on a plate.

“Eggs are just about the only thing I can cook. I usually have a black cup of coffee on my way out the door, so my cook doesn't come until later. I always like to keep a few of these on hand, from the bakery down the street." Joel passes you the plate full of pastries and you pick out a fluffy croissant. When it's just Joel and you, it's easy to forget that he's insanely wealthy and amenities such as personal chefs are his norm.

“I would love a cup of that black coffee if you have it on hand." You smile and break the croissant in half, inhaling the buttery scent.

“How did you sleep?" Joel asks, pouring you a mug full of coffee.

“I slept amazingly. You'll have to tell me where you got your sheets. They are so soft," you tease.

Joel chuckles and sits down next to you, placing the coffee in front of you. He brushes back a piece of your hair and tucks it behind your ear. The simple action sends another wave of heat through you, and you have to remind yourself not to get used to this. You swallow hard.

“How did you sleep?" you ask.

“The best night's sleep I have gotten in a long time," he says with a smirk and a glance in your direction. You feel your cheeks burn at his insinuation.

“Me too," you admit, thinking about how great it felt just to sleep next to him.

You take a sip of the steaming coffee and continue working on your plate.

“So what have you been up to since I last saw you?" Joel asks as though you hadn't run away without saying goodbye.

“I have just been packing up the apartment and trying to remember everything I need to do before the move."

“Did you get everything taken care of that you needed to?"

“Yeah, for the most part," you say, glancing at him. You can't stop thinking about your night together.

“Have you gotten everything packed?" he asks with a hint of sadness in his voice, keeping his eyes on his food.

“Not everything, I am close, but I still have a few more things to sort out."

“I would offer to come to help you if I didn't have to work today. I have a meeting with investors, which I can't get out of."

“Oh, no, I would never ask you to miss work. I will just call a cab," you say quickly.

“Nonsense. I will have my driver take you home."

—

Joel helps you collect your clothes from the balcony and you use his bathroom to freshen up before he walks you downstairs. The same black car is waiting for you on the street in view of the lobby.

“I will call you later, babygirl. I promise," Joel says.

You nod and look up into his eyes with a small smile. Joel bends down and touches your lips to his. The kiss is soft and sweet; the heat lingers on your lips as the car pulls away from Joel standing on the sidewalk, watching you leave.

The drive goes fast on the way back to your apartment because you keep replaying the events of your night with Joel over and over again. You can feel your face heat up by the time you pull up to your building and Joel's driver opens your door for you.

“Thank you so much for the ride," you say with a smile, the driver nods but does not get back into the car.

“Is there something else?" you ask, confused.

“I have strict instructions to make sure you get into the building safely, Miss."

You give a weak smile and head into your building and up the stairs. As soon as you put your key in the lock, the door flies open. Both of your roommates are standing in the doorway with grins plastered on their faces.

“Somebody didn't come home last night. That better mean you have something to tell us," Lin says, she's nearly vibrating with excitement.

“I don't know what you mean. We just had a nice time catching up," you lie with a sly grin, and already know your roommates can see right through it.

“Oh, you two caught up last night alright. You slept with him, didn't you?" Aubrey says, and her smile gets even bigger.

“I did," you say barely above a whisper, your smile filling your face at the admission.

Both Lin and Aubrey squeal as they usher you inside and close the door.

“We need every single detail," Lin says.

“Fine, but I really need to shower first," you say, chuckling.

After your shower, the three of you sit down so you can spill the tea. You start off with the not so interesting parts and let it build.

“So everything started out on his balcony, where he kissed me. I was ready to rip his clothes right off his body but he wanted to take things slow. He said he wanted to memorize everything about me," you say, warming at the memory. “Since it was only for the night, I'm glad he made me slow down."

“And how is this man single?" Aubrey asks with a giggle.

“Honestly, I have no idea. The way he made me feel was like nothing I have ever experienced before. Plus, he made me breakfast this morning."

“We don't care about the breakfast! How was he?" Lin asks, waving her hand to make you move on.

“He was absolutely amazing, I think I actually left my own body at one point."

“How big is he?" Lin asks, leaning in closer with a grin.

You smack her arm lightly and start laughing, hard. “No way in hell am I going to tell you that!"

“It was worth a shot," Lin says with a mocking smile.

“Honestly, the sex was the best I have ever had. And it wasn't because of his size or his amazingly toned body, which it is by the way. It was the way he looked into my eyes that made me feel like I meant so much to him. I felt like he was seeing me for who I actually am, and adored every part of me. I haven't felt that way in such a long time," you gush as you wrap a towel around your wet hair.

Lin lets out an audible moan and falls back onto her unmade bed.

“Oh, you are so lucky. I don't know if I will ever find a man to look at me like that. Although, right now I could do with one with rock-hard abs," Lin says.

You laugh and toss a pillow over to Lin, and it flops onto her.

“It was absolutely amazing!" you continue daydreaming.

“So when are you seeing him again?" Aubrey asks.

“I kind of told him that it was a one-time thing…" you trail off.

“Why the hell would you do that?" Lin shoots straight up and practically shouts at you.

“In case you forgot, Lin, we are moving in just two days. How am I supposed to continue a relationship with him while he's living in New York?"

“You can't really believe that. The man is a billionaire, I am sure you would see him all the time if you really wanted to. You are just using moving as an excuse," Lin says. She stares you down until you can't take it anymore and look away. You make eye contact with Aubrey and can tell she feels the same way.

“It's complicated."

“We just want you to be happy. You deserve to be happy," Aubrey says and reaches out to hold your hand.

“I want to be happy too, but there is so much standing in our way. I am moving away, his daughter absolutely hates me now, and not to mention our age gap. Plus, the creepy stalker situation."

“It doesn't matter how messy it is if he makes you happy," Lin offers.

You sit in silence as you soak in their support. A knock on the door echoes through the entire apartment, making your heart beat faster. You all look at each other with apprehension.

You rush to the door expecting Joel to be on the other side. You're ready to tell him that you want to give this, to give it a shot. There's no one at the door, so you stick your head out and look down the hallway, but still discover nothing. Just as you're about to shut the door, you notice a small piece of yellow paper taped to it. You peel the tape off of the door and turn the note over. In tiny, extremely neat handwriting are five words. These five words make your heart drop and chase all thoughts of a relationship with Joel from your mind.

You can't run from this.

JOEL.

Everything about you had been so wonderful, and Joel couldn't get the memory of your intimacy out of his head. He sighs, resting his cheek on his fist as he rides along in silence, anticipating a busy meeting with investors. Vultures, all of them, but they were a necessary evil. The only thoughts Joel wanted to have today were of you. Unfortunately, he didn't always get what he wanted.

He watches as buildings whiz by, the scent of street vendors and car exhaust heavy in the air. People wander along the sidewalks, chatting happily with one another, arms full of shopping bags. He sees a couple lean forward and lock lips, a sadness stabbing into his gut. That could be us, Joel thinks to himself, letting out a sigh and shaking his head. Things had to be so complicated. Money could solve most, if not all problems, so why not this?

The car pulls into the building, and the door is opened for him so he can make his way inside. Bland colors like muted whites, greys, and blacks greet him as he exits the elevator and walks down the halls in his formal tailored suit. He gives an absentminded nod toward the secretary, not thinking much of either this meeting, the people here, or the day, as his thoughts are strictly locked on you..

Well. That was until he recalls a rather recent memory regarding the secretary. He remembers her words regarding the wonderful, intelligent woman he had in his bedroom only last night. Before entering the meeting, he gives her a harsh glare out of the side of his eye, something she doesn't notice, as she is busy typing on the computer. Perhaps something would need to be done about her unfair and unwarranted treatment of you.

Joel smiles to himself, the thought of being rid of this new problem tantalizing. First, however, he needs to handle the circus that is the investors. Thankfully, the meeting goes quickly, the bored expressions of the investors only mildly infuriating. It takes a lot of determination and hard work to run this company, so to see people a bit less enthusiastic makes his stomach clench with annoyance. Now he can move on to more important matters. His hand flies toward his pants pocket as he feels a vibration, raising a brow. Could it be you? He wonders, at this point excited like a lost school boy. He's a mess. Joel Miller, a highly successful man in this dog-eat-dog world. Brought to his knees by a woman twenty years his junior, but what a woman you are. To him, that doesn't matter. Joel brings out his phone, his heart fluttering and a grin widening across his face as he realizes the message is from you. Perhaps you're texting in order to work things out? He's been interested in you before, with obvious worries due to the age gap, but is now convinced that if you both wanted to, you could work things out. He would never force you to do so. However, after actually reading the texts, his heart clenches, and he feels a pit in his stomach. His hopeful smile melts into a deep, angry scowl. That bastard is still active, more than ever now. Blaine needs to be stopped, his antics this time included leaving a letter for you that reads;  You can't run from this.

Joel will make damn sure that he can't, either. He needs to figure out the status of this situation with his head of security. He clenches his jaw and resists the urge to throw his phone against the wall. Reacting that way wouldn't be helpful. Joel ignores the secretary's wary, surprised look as he briskly walks past her. No doubt, she sees his expression and posture. He will deal with her later.

Sending a text, he makes his way to another meeting room, this one private. He waits for Bruce to enter, taking a seat himself and leaning back in a cushioned chair. Bruce does, after what feels like hours but could only have been minutes.

“You want updates on the Blaine situation, sir?" Bruce asks, causing Joel to give a curt nod. Bruce sighs, shaking his head. “I have good news and bad news. Bad news first, we have no idea where he is located."

Joel puts a hand over his forehead and lets out a soft groan, the stress of the situation spawning a minor headache. “What could the good news possibly be in this situation," Joel asks, his voice laced with frustration.

The security head isn't phased, likely having expected this reaction. Rather, he dips his head, taking out his phone to turn toward Joel. His expression is grim, and there are shadows under his eyes. Perhaps this situation is taking its toll on him as well. Joel will bear that in mind for bonuses. Bruce will get a big one, if he can coherently help Joel take Blaine down, of course.

“We're sure the pictures have not been released to news outlets. My team has been watching this issue like hawks. No sign of the media getting their grubby hands on this. Your reputation is safe for now, sir," Bruce explains.

Joel sighs, muttering, “It isn't my reputation I'm worried about." He shakes his head, holding his face in his hands and thinking for a moment. After composing himself, Joel looks back toward Bruce and gives a nod. “Thank you for your hard work. I hope we'll be able to find him soon. He's been making my life a living hell, and I need to put a stop to it." Anger swells in Joel's chest at the lack of progress despite the 'good news', and not at the head of security by any means. He knows that the team is doing their best. Those not doing their best, however, are about to get punished, and hard. Joel runs his fingers through his hair, making his way out of the room and dismissing Bruce back to his current position.

Now, Joel is headed toward the front desk, his jaw tightened and his expression twisted into an incredibly deep scowl. He approaches the secretary, who is leaning back, likely slacking off as she sometimes does. That's whatever to him, as long as she gets her work done. Insulting you, however, is not included in her job description, and it tells him how she thinks of, and treats people in general. 

Joel snarls at her, “You. You're fired."

“What? But, sir, I–"

“Did I stutter?" Joel asks dangerously. “Out. Now. You have five minutes to grab your things and go. If I return and see you here, I will address this with my head of security."

“Can you at least tell me what I did?" she asks, pouting as she stands up.

“Yes. You insulted someone who is very important to me because you thought you were better than her. Maybe this will teach you a lesson about treating people poorly. Now, out!"

She stares at him with a mixture of anger and horror, the latter expression doubtlessly winning out. There's no way she can touch him, not with the amount of power he holds. One moment she was on top of the world, abusing those below her, and the next, she's below the woman she mocked. Hopefully, Joel isn't emulating that. He ponders this for a split second, but then shakes his head. No. She deserved this after the treatment of you, but beyond that, it again shows that this behavior was likely not limited just to the one woman he cared for.

Joel makes his way into another room, taking a few turns in the hall before arriving at his assistant's desk side. His angry expression fades into one that is far more apologetic when he sees her typing away, stacks of papers to be organized on her desk. She looks up, puzzled, and tilts her head. “Sir?" she asks, taking her hands off the keyboard and leaning back.

There's no fear in her gaze, like some when they look upon him, given the position he holds. She knows him well enough that if she's actually diligent with work and a good person, he will return the kindness. Unfortunately, she's about to have something added to her workload. Guilt twists in Joel's stomach, but nothing can be done about that.

“I need a new secretary," he sighs. He adds, quickly, “I'll compensate you for your stress. I promise. A large bonus. I know it's a lot, and I truly appreciate your work."

His assistant sighs, glancing back to her computer. The slightest hint of frustration crosses her face, and Joel could have sworn the circles under her eyes got just a bit darker. Then, however, she smiles, letting out a chuckle. “Sure, Joel, I will get right to it. An extra day off or two added onto this bonus may help all of this stress, though."

“After we sort out the secretary thing and other pressing problems, yes. A week off, fully paid, and that bonus. How does that sound?" Joel asks hopefully.

She grins, giving him a thumbs up. Joel sighs in relief, glad that at least, that was taken care of.

Glancing at the time on his cell phone, he realizes he has lunch with Todd and Sarah. What fun that would be. Seeing Todd again after everything he's learned about him is less than appealing. Joel gets into his car, leaning against the door and staring out into the bright, sunny day.

What he wouldn't give to be with you right now, learning even more about you, talking about plans for the future. Joel licks his lips, shaking his head. Speak of the devil, though. On his way to the restaurant for lunch, his phone rings once more, and it's you.

His heart flutters seeing your name, but he knows this is serious. “Hello?" he asks, a hint of caution in his tone.

“Joel," you breathe from the other line. “You got my text, right? I'm so scared. Can we please talk? I really want to see you again to go over this."

“Yes, we can," Joel confirms, happy to be able to see you again, but sad to hear the stress in your tone. Given the circumstance, it's understandable. “I'll have Bruce pick you up. See you soon."

YOU.

Your heart pounds with anxiety as you wait on the sidewalk, leaning against a brick wall and shuddering despite the warmth of the sun. Your reputation is currently at major risk. Your stomach clenches, swirling with negative emotions and sheer, utter fear. You've worked so hard to get where you are, to lead a successful life, and now this could ruin it all. You don't want to be stuck in a low-paying job, barely scraping by. Is Joel a curse or a blessing at this point? No, you can't think like that. Blaine is the one causing issues, not Joel.

The memories of kissing and fucking Joel flood back, and you recall how good it felt, how cared for you felt. You lick your lips, remembering the way Joel ravaged you in bed, allowing your eyelids to droop just a little. For a moment, you cap the fear, but that only lasts briefly before the wave of negative emotions crashes over you again. You start to pace, trying to reassure yourself that everything will work out. Surely your life can't be ruined by one picture, can it? But deep down, you know the truth. This is terrible.

By the time Bruce arrives to help you into the car, tears are streaming down your cheeks. You quickly wipe them away, not wanting your emotions to be so plainly visible by the time you arrive. It will be hard to hide your feelings from Joel, but you're too distraught to care at this point. You click your seatbelt into place, lean against the leather seat, and stare out the window, trying to distract yourself from the inevitable. 

Above, the sun begins to be obscured by clouds, a fitting metaphor for your mood. The greys of the asphalt mix with the bland white and black buildings you rush by, their windows dark, mostly covered by curtains from the inside.nYou pass a murder of crows picking at roadkill, twisting your stomach at the sight. Though all of this is mundane, it only serves to worsen your mood. The patter of rain on the windows confirms the approaching storm, accompanied by distant rumbling. You hug yourself, close your eyes, and try to calm down.

When you arrive at Joel's house, the sight of it in all its extravagance would usually excite you. You adore seeing Joel. But with the recent problems caused by your complicated relationship, it doesn't feel the same as when you left. Bruce leads you to the door and politely steps back, waiting for Joel's protocol. You hesitate but eventually knock, convincing yourself that texting would be silly given you're right here.

Moments later, Joel opens the door. Your breath catches as you stare up at him, momentarily lost in his eyes before snapping back to reality. Memories of your night in bed come flooding back, distracting you, but you know you need to stay focused. This is a horrible occasion, but even within this tiny pocket of time, you convince yourself that surely he can help. You make that decision just by looking at him, even if it feels a bit naive. After taking a deep breath, you reach into your purse and pull out the note for him to see in person.

A mixture of emotions crosses Joel's face. His lips twist into a scowl, his brow furrowing, reflecting the mood of the storm. Another rumble of thunder causes you to jump a little, but Joel has no reaction. He slips the note into his pocket and fixes his eyes on you. His scowl fades into a worried frown, his deep eyes gleaming with concern.

"Babygirl," he begins, biting his lip, probably searching for the right words. A silence stretches as he seems to lose his words again. You break the silence after placing a hand on your forehead and dragging it down your face. You will the tears to hold back this time because you need to keep your tone steady and convey how you're feeling.

After taking a deep breath, you say, "Joel, I'm frightened about what this could do to my reputation. That note definitely indicates action will be taken soon. I really want us to work out, but with that horrible person causing all this stress and danger to my life as I know it, I'm on edge and losing it."

This time, you can't stop the tears. They well up in your eyes and slowly glide down your cheeks. Joel stares at you for a moment, probably at a loss for words. Once again, silence stretches. Say something, you think to yourself, biting your lip and quickly reaching up to wipe away more tears. You raise your eyebrows, hoping he has all the answers. Sadly, he appears as lost as you are, his head hanging slightly, his body tense.

"I will take care of you. Just put your career aside, for now. Not forever. Let me help you. It will be fine, we can work this out," Joel finally says, causing you to inwardly groan.

That's not what you wanted to hear. You don't want to have to rely on him all the time. You don't want to put your dreams aside for some storybook relationship that may not work out, leaving you with nothing. You've worked too hard in life for this, spending countless hours in school to become a lawyer. Your dreams are crumbling right before your eyes. Is it because of Joel? An inner voice tells you no, it isn't. He has nothing to do with this. By how he treats you, you know he loves you back and wants to do everything in his power to make this work. But this situation has escalated beyond his control.

You shake your head, crossing your arms as he motions into the house. "Please. Follow me, at least. Let's talk this out," he pleads. You oblige, the pit in your stomach growing heavier.

You walk through the house, your eyes falling upon the fancy carpeting and light fixtures, still finding some comfort in them despite this situation. Truthfully, you need to start letting this go. You need to let it all go. With your mind stuck here, with him, there's no way to move on with your life and advance the way you want to. As much as your heart breaks having to admit that, you know you need to be a lawyer more than anything.

You take a seat at a table across from him as he raises a brow. "Eggs?" he asks sheepishly, causing you to smile despite the circumstances.

But that smile quickly fades into a frown as tears begin to flow once more. This time, you don't bother wiping them away. You take a deep breath and make the decision you need to. Steeling yourself, you look him in the eye and say in a very serious tone, "Look, Joel, we can't do that. I can't do that. I have to do this for myself. How can I rely on you all the time? How can you take care of me through all of this?"

"Baby, I have plenty of money and resources. I can easily take care of you; you don't need to worry about all of this," Joel says, his voice tinged with a pleading tone.

"I am not some child in need of being taken care of. I can't spend my days longing for the beach billionaire only to have my independence and dreams threatened. I want to be a lawyer for myself, not for the money. If my reputation is shattered, so is my life. I am sorry it has to be this way, but this has gone too far, and I need to say goodbye."

"What? No, wait, I–"

You're not listening at that point. Tears are pouring down your cheeks as you stand up quickly, whirling and bolting down the hall. You don't care if you're running away from your problems now. You don't care if you're running away from him while at the same time wanting to fall into his arms and tell him you'd drop everything so that he could care for you. You need to do this for yourself and not be caged by this nightmare.

The expression on his face, that brief glimpse of utter grief, has your heart pounding. You burst out the front door and hurry down to Bruce, sniffling and letting out a few whimpering sobs. You feel as though you're melting. The pattering rain makes you sopping wet, which does the opposite of helping the situation. You lock eyes with Bruce and gulp. "Please. Take me home. Just take me home."

He nods, thankfully asking no questions, and opens the door for you. You get in and rest your forehead against the window, shuddering with sobs. Bruce graciously raises the privacy screen, though you catch a sympathetic glance from him in the rearview mirror.

Strands of your hair fall into your face, but you don't care. You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to calm yourself down after that horrible decision. How could you just walk away from Joel? He was so great, but you were just too scared. Scared of losing what you've worked so hard for, even if you do love him. You had to do this for yourself. You hate how much you still love him. You hate how you want this to work out. But most of all, you hate that you need to leave him. All of this is what's best for you, though.

As the car pulls out of the driveway and drives off, you glimpse Joel standing there, watching you leave, his shoulders slumped. He stands in the rain, not moving, letting himself get soaked. He watches you drive away until you can no longer see each other. 

You manage to calm yourself down at your apartment, telling Lin and Aubrey that you really can't talk right then because your head isn't in the best spot. You drown yourself in books, particularly those of law, to remind yourself just how important this is to you. You can't let some lovestruck incident stop you from chasing your dreams. When you finally look at the clock, it's 11:03 PM. You gasp, surprised at just how well losing yourself in rounding out your studies has worked to eat up time.

Tossing and turning in your bed, you can't get Joel's expression out of your head. Everything about that situation makes you feel horrible. 

Did you make the right decision?

You still feel that strong urge to contact Joel again and apologize for how you behaved. Running back would achieve the opposite of what you want, though. You have to let this all go. You can do that, right? Judging by how closely you clutch your pillow that night, imagining it's Joel, you aren't so sure.

The next morning, you wake up, yawning and rubbing your eyes. The smell of fresh bacon hits your nose, causing your stomach to rumble. Through all of this stress, you find yourself eating less than you should lately. You really should pay attention to your health. All of this stress is, no doubt, horrible for you. You enter the kitchen area, looking over to Aubrey. Her eyes sparkle with concern as she stares you down, tilting her head.

“How are you?" she asks with hesitation, as if concerned the question would shatter you to pieces. 

You respond with a shrug. “Been better. My focus is on packing. We have a lot to finish," you offer. 

Aubrey nods, finishing breakfast up and serving you at the table. She sits down across from you, munching on the scrumptious bacon and gesturing for you to help yourself. That you do, something you definitely don't regret. Cooked to perfection and warming your stomach at least a little bit, the bacon helps ease you even if only a smidgeon. You're grateful for the silence during eating, though, as you're still gathering your thoughts.

When all is finished, you return to packing. You haul some books and pack them into some boxes neatly, letting out a light sigh. Lin joins you soon, her cheerful expression fading upon seeing your face. Are there circles under your eyes? Probably. You went to bed at a less-than-reasonable hour. Not to mention, you tossed and turned all night, which probably contributed to how slow you are right now.

You break the awkward silence first. “I was very harsh with Joel yesterday," you begin. 

Lin gasps, taken aback by this. “The same guy you said you had amazing sex with? But why?" she asks. Aubrey leans forward, flabbergasted by this knowledge as well. You nod, biting your lip and feeling tears coming on again. You cry a lot lately, don't you?

“Because it isn't working out," you say with a short tone, gathering your bearings. A few items in boxes later, you decide to elaborate. “My reputation is at risk. I really want to become a lawyer, guys. I am so scared. I got a threatening note, and if pictures get out of us together, I'll be done for. You know how the media is. I will never be able to practice. My dreams are at risk of being completely destroyed," you mutter.

Aubrey and Lin exchange a glance, probably debating how to approach this. You glance up toward them, waiting for their response. Your arms are a little bit achy from moving some of the heavier objects into the boxes, but you make do. Probably best to rest after these final days of packing.

“And you're sure, dude, you're completely miserable." Aubrey asks softly. You hesitate but slowly nod. Her eyes have a skeptical spark to them, but she dips her head. “I'll take your word for it even if you seem a little unsure. The stress is getting to you. I can tell."

“Yeah," Lin agrees. “The way you talked about him was hot. I still wish I had a guy like that, but if it's not going to work out, then it's best to move on. Moving will probably be the best thing that can happen."

“New York isn't a good place to be right now," Aubrey adds, her nose wrinkling. “So many problems, and on top of all this? Thank goodness Cambridge is quiet. At least, it should be quieter. Look, I'll hold the fort for you here. You promise to stay in contact, though?"

Realizing you're losing one of your close friends, you tear up all over again. The best you can do is nod. You spread your arms, and your two friends rush over to you. One group hug and many tears later, you pull away from them. You place your hands on Aubrey's shoulders. “Lin and I are going to miss you so much, we will absolutely stay in contact. How could we not, you're like our sister?"

You all hug again, crying at splitting up. It had been you three against the world for so long. The sadness is interrupted by your need to load the Uhaul. That's even worse than carrying all of the heavy boxes around, admittedly. The conversation turns from the obvious panic-inducing subject of the Joel situation to brighter, happier topics. At least there isn't a cloud in the sky above this time, making the move a bit more pleasant.

You smile and enter the apartment, wanting to take one last break before heading out with the final boxes. The stormy mood hanging around your head is at least starting to dissipate. 

Lin and Aubrey take a seat before you, munching on some ham sandwiches for lunch. Lin eyes you and asks, “You ever think about writing a book or something? Your life sounds like a movie."

After a harsh look from Aubrey, Lin grins sheepishly and coughs. “Er, this will hopefully be a happy ending."

You chuckle, shaking your head and wiping away some sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand. “No, but I should, shouldn't I?" You chuckle.

Then, you sober a bit. “We don't need to avoid the subject if you have questions, though. I can tell there's something on the tip of your tongue."

Lin glances over to Aubrey, who shakes her head. Evidently your friend decides to ask the question anyway. “Do you think he will follow you? How bad was your fight, anyway? You said very harsh but that could mean a lot."

Aubrey leans over and elbows her, and Lin gives her a look that says, What? We were both wondering that.

You sigh and shake your head. “I don't think he will. At least, I hope not. I will put my foot down and tell him to go away if he does. Even if I really, really don't want to."

Aubrey's eyes sparkle with sympathy as she stares at you. “Still in love, huh? Not every day you find a man that looks at you the way you described. But, again, you should do what's best for you. Before everything else. There will be other men out there! If you think this won't work out, yeah, moving on is good. Not awesome, but good." You nod, wanting to take your friend's advice to heart and not put yourself in any more danger.

“We are really going to miss you Aubrey, life won't be the same without your great advice and support," you say and Lin nods in agreement.

“Yeah, who's going to keep my mouth in check now?" Lin says with a grin, though tears are in her eyes.

“No more crying!" Aubrey says, and you all laugh. It's going to be hard to leave this, your friendship means so much to you all. You try not to think about what Lin said. But you can't stop the thoughts running through your mind now.

What if he does follow you? Will you really tell him to go away? Or will you cave? This really isn't his fault, at all, but regardless of who's causing the issue, you together can't work.

You feel your heart clench at that, really, really not wanting to accept it. Thankfully, there's no way he would show up anywhere soon. He's too busy, right? 

You finish up your break with the other two, exchanging hugs again. They each take a few heavy boxes and head out to the Uhaul, grunting at how heavy they are.

As Aubrey passes you, she says, “You really take your studies seriously, huh? I'm glad you did what's best for you in that case, because just by all of this, your career being in danger would obviously crush you. Even more so than these heavy boxes are crushing me."

You have to laugh at her antics.

Placing the last box at the bottom of the moving truck, you wipe more sweat from your brow and smile to yourself. You can look to the future, leave this place behind, and start anew. You have so much going for you. All of this drama will be behind you soon. So will Joel. You bite your lip, not liking that thought. Maybe you should have been nicer as opposed to storming out like that. “Very harsh," you whisper to yourself.

“Uh…hey?" you hear Lin's voice. 

You're resting there, staring at a box, lost in thought. Letting out a sigh, you wave your hand without turning around. “Give me a minute, please," you respond, wanting to gather your bearings once more. All of your swarming thoughts keep contradicting you, after all.

“I don't think we have a minute. Someone is here to see you," she says. You furrow your brow and roll your shoulders back, turning to see what in the world she could be talking about.

Your eyes widen and your jaws drop as you spot a very familiar face. Your entire body tenses, and your breath catches as you take in the man standing before you. The man you'd driven away from and left there in tears only a day before. He wears a forlorn, lost expression, guilt seeping from every pore.

“Joel," you breathe. “What are you doing here?"

JOEL.

Seeing you again, so gorgeous in every way, brought back painful memories that, just hours before, he had said goodbye to. Yet here he is, staring you down with likely an incredibly pleading expression. A pit forms in his stomach as he wonders if this is disrespecting your wishes about space. He doesn't walk any closer to you, even though he very much wants to take you into his arms and hold you close. He swallows and lets out a soft sigh, opening his mouth to start.

“Babygirl, I–"

“Joel, what are you doing here? You–"

“I know, it–"

“Seeing you here again, I–"

“I wanted to talk about–"

You both stop, getting nowhere since your words are being tangled by talking over one another. He has the delight of seeing an amused glint in your eyes. You bring your hand up to your lips, covering your mouth for a moment in amusement before clearing your throat and letting out a sigh. Your expression hardens as, no doubt, you decide to stand your ground. Rolling your shoulders back, you lift your chin, regarding him with a small degree of wariness.

“Go ahead, Joel. I'll hear you out," you say, nearly causing Joel to collapse with relief. He has one last chance to make things right, and he needs to make it count. This isn't about him; this is about you. You deserve the life you've strived for. You're an intelligent, beautiful woman, and it's not his place to get in the way of that. Steeling his resolve, he does as you ask, nodding and refocusing his mind on the issue at hand.

“I was wrong," he starts, watching as you raise a brow. “I should have never asked you to put your dreams on hold for me. It was selfish. I was blinded by my feelings for you, which in the end, would have harmed you. You will still have the position at the law firm I helped you obtain, though your merits were more than enough. I understand none of this is about the money. It is about you being you, going out there and helping people like you have always wanted to. Making a name for yourself. I apologize for being too dense to realize that."

Tears brew in your eyes that you reach up to quickly wipe away. He watches your shoulders sag and listens to the little sniffle you give as you process everything he's telling you. Several emotions flash across your face right then. The first is surprise, followed by acceptance, and finally cautious happiness. You wear a soft smile, moments later not bothering to wipe away the tears.

He has a feeling they turn from panicked and sad to tears of a more positive nature right then. He can't help but feel hopeful at this and a smile slowly creeps across his face.

“Thank you," you breathe, taking a few steps forward and hesitating. “Can I give you a hug?" His heart skips a beat, and he nods, delighted for this chance. It will likely be among the last ones you and him exchange, as he is not going to get in the way of your dreams, though he has deep feelings for you.

You continue, “I'm really happy you came to see me. I tried letting go of everything, but it was so hard, Joel."

He wraps his arms around you as you bury your face into his chest. The smell of sweet perfume wafts into his face, causing his entire body to relax. Everything about you is angelic, beautiful, and perfect. He wants to sweep you off your feet and take you away, to treat you like the princess you are, but he knows those thoughts are unreasonable. Rather, he holds you there for several moments before finally breaking the silence after a thought of seeing you for longer comes to him.

“Would… you like to have one last bit of extravagance with me before you start your new life in Cambridge? No strings attached. Just a night of fun for you, to rest your mind after all the stress you have been dealing with," he says.

Even if the stress was due to him, in some part at least, perhaps this all would help. You would know you were going to a better place following the night, if you accepted, anyway. He knows you don't want him to ruin your chances at law school, but he really doesn't want to let you go. The thought of never seeing you again after tonight makes his heart ache. He looks at you, trying to hide his desperation to be with you from his expression.

After a long pause, you pull away and look into his eyes. His heart drops, considering the high possibility you will decline. You have every right to, after all, given all that has happened. He opens his mouth to assure you that he would understand entirely if you said no, but you raise a hand to stop him, your smile widening. “Yes. I think that would be good for me, Joel. Thank you. Plus… I miss you. I am sorry for storming out the way I did," you mutter.

“Oh, I deserved it," he laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was not putting you first or thinking of how hard you worked to achieve your goals. But I am delighted you decided to come with me."

Right then, rounding the corner are two women, your roommates. Seeing him, your jaws drop for a moment. One walks up to you, quickly, putting herself between him and you. You say, “Lin! What are you doing?"

Lin replies, “Making sure you're alright! You came home a wreck, and now this guy is here? He's the one you left, isn't he? Looks like how you described him."

“Yes, but we talked it out. I… want to spend one last evening with him. It's something he offered to do," you say.

Lin steps aside, crossing her arms and furrowing her brow. She looks over to the other girl and gestures to him and you.

“What do you think, Aubrey?" Lin asks.

The other girl, Aubrey, shakes her head, looking toward you. “Is this healthy? Are you sure you are not in danger? He clearly seems to care, but what about the stalker?" she says, side-eyeing him. “We just want to make sure you're okay."

He can't blame them, and this is not his place to intervene. He steps aside, waiting for you to explain the situation. Trying to interject and defend himself would not be wise at this point.

You give your friends a very sad smile. “Hey, I appreciate how much you two care. I know. I was a mess. I still am. But Joel apologized, he understands my dreams come first. It's goodbye after one last night. I'm not changing course or anything. I'm not dropping my plans. I just can't deny my emotions for him anymore. Really, I need this," you tell them.

He blinks in surprise, honored you would defend him in front of your friends the way you did.

Lin appears skeptical as she exchanges a glance with Aubrey. The sun shines down on all four of you, just a few clouds in the sky right now. The temperature is mild, so the atmosphere itself at least isn't making things worse.

A car rumbles by, its mechanical growls breaking the silence that had settled on your group. You're out of the way and on the sidewalk, so you're not disrupting anyone, at least.

Finally, Aubrey speaks up. “If you think this is what's best for you, then we support you," she says. “I know you won't walk away from your dreams for anyone, no matter how dreamy he may be. But be careful, okay?" Her eyes fall upon him, and there's a dangerous glint to them he rarely sees in any expression from another toward him that doesn't relate to his wealth. “As for you, don't play with her emotions or steer her away from what she truly wants. Understand?"

He nods, aware she is dead serious and wondering if that was a threat. Not that he's opposed. This is a caring gesture for you, and he's relieved you have friends like this that care deeply. “I do," he replies. “I know I was wrong, I was just scared for her and tried to protect her the only way I know. It wasn't the right way, though. And it will never happen again."

He hopes they believe him because it's all true. He would never ask you to sacrifice your dreams for him; it isn't fair to you.

“I will arrange for someone to drive your belongings to Cambridge and set up your apartment while we spend one last night together. Lin, if you'd like, they can set your stuff up there as well."

Lin and Aubrey exchange another glance and nod. Lin says, “Thank you, I'll take you up on that! Remind me to find a guy like you when I have to move again."

This lightens the mood, causing all of you to laugh. Thank goodness, the situation could have turned fairly complicated very fast. True to his word, he makes a call to his assistant, arranging for your things to be taken care of. One last thing to worry about.

When the other two women leave, you and he are left there together, silent and just staring into each other's eyes. He finds himself lost in yours, tilting his head and cupping your cheek.

God, you are beautiful. His breath catches just looking at you. He can't believe just how lucky he was to have found you, and that you found it in your heart to forgive him even if he's drowning in guilt over not putting your wishes first.

“Kiss me?" you ask in a hush tone, and he can't help but to oblige. He leans down and presses his lips against yours, stars practically rushing through his entire body. He is lost in all of you during that kiss, emotions swirling and skin crackling with chemistry. You eventually have to pull away for air, sadly, and you let out a soft sigh.

“Thank you," you whisper.

He smiles at you, taking you into another hug. “No. Thank you, babygirl."

He will make it count and see your smile light up the area again. Nothing is too much for you, and he is going to pull out all the stops. He looks at you and smiles. “One last night together," you sigh and smile up at him.

One last night together.

taglist: @brittmb115 @lizzie-cakes @puduvallee @theoraekenslover @harriedandharassed

@vickie5446 @chiyo13 @ashleyfilm

[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

Taglist: @mellymbee @untamedheart81 @anoverwhelmingdin @runningmom94 @leilanixx

@pedropascalfan221 @lovelyjess69 @sarahhxx03 @sofiparallel @tammythr

@lulawantmula @islacharlotte @allyourfavesinoneblog @lover-of-books-and-tea @pedropascalsbbg

@ashleyfilm @brittmb115 @lilmizmoz @loveisacowboyyy @shotgun-shelby

@deninoe @casssiopeia @caitlynsixxx @skysmiller @missladym1981

@marirxse @lizzie-cakes @tynakub

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Daddy’s Best Friend, Mr. Miller Chapter 4: Birthday Candles and Rock Concerts✨

Dbf! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: I’m so excited for you to read this fluffy, soft chapter between Joel and reader, I absolutely loved writing it 🥰 So much love between these two. Comments and reblogs always make my day, can’t wait to hear your thoughts ❤️

Chapter Summary: Joel throws reader the sweetest, most romantic birthday party and takes her to a rock concert

Word Count: 11.4k

Chapter tags: Oral receiving, fingering, unprotected p in v, sweet talk, love confessions, cute moments between Joel and reader, surprises

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

You spend the weekend before your birthday lazing around the house reading your romance books, strumming the pristine cords on your acoustic guitar, and binge watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer. A nostalgic show you could watch over and over again without ever getting bored. A weekend in is just what you needed.

It’s now Saturday evening, the warm sun slowly sinking behind dark clouds that threaten to pull it down as the moon takes its place, trading the fluffy clouds with clear skies and bright white stars. The air blows chilly breezes against your skin as you wrap the pink Nirvana hoodie closer to your body and cross your legs as you readjust the shimmering guitar in your arms.

You trace your fingers along the sparkly swirls and run them slowly over the glittering butterflies on the neck of the guitar. You can’t help but smile as you think of the handsome man that carved them with his own strong, calloused hands. Joel. You’re perfect, sweet man. You feel the butterflies flit through your stomach every time you think of him and his cute dimples that always pull at the edges of his cheeks when he’s really happy. And it’s always when he’s with you.

You smile at the thought of it, of him. You watch the sunset fade to purple and pink skies swirling into orange colors, then finally into darkness as the full moon shows its glow in the night sky. The back porch lights flick on as you focus on your guitar again.

You carefully strum along the cords, playing “Never Too Late” by Three Days Grace as you hear the melody carry through the wind, taking the song with it as it flows in the night sky gracefully. You get lost in the song, quietly humming along to the beat as your fingers slide along the cords. It was a song Joel taught you how to play, and it made it that much more special.

You’re so deep into the song that you don’t hear the sliding glass door open and close behind you until you hear his deep voice as he comes up behind you, stopping just inches from the fold out chair you’re sitting criss crossed on.

“Sounds good, baby,” he says quietly, his deep breath raising all the hairs on the back of your neck as you nearly jump at his presence.

“You think so?” you ask shyly as you look up at him, finding his lips curled up into a smile as a dimple forms deep into his cheek. The sight nearly takes your breath away. You love his soft smile, the way his brown eyes delve into yours as he always looks at you so deeply. Like he’s looking into the mere pits of your soul. It’s mesmerizing.

“Yeah, I do,” he breathes out, his hands digging deep into the pockets of his dark washed jeans as his fingers strain to keep them there. He can’t touch you. Not right now, not when your father is right around the corner. But he wants to. God, he wants to. It takes everything in you not to reach out and take his hand in yours. You want to so badly. But you know one touch wouldn’t be enough. It’s never enough.

“Well, you can thank yourself for making me the little guitar player I am. I wouldn’t even know how to play if it wasn’t for you. So thank you… for giving me something I now love.” You blush up at him, and he runs a hand through his unruly curls, trying to get a hold on reality again before he caves and sweeps you up in his arms.

He wants to sit right behind you on that fold out chair, wants to wrap his arms around your hips and pull you flush to his chest as he lets his calloused fingers brush over yours. Let his lips trace the edge of your long, perfect neck as he trails them up and down, nipping at your jawline as he gets lost in your vanilla scent he clings to every time he’s around you. You drive him crazy with desire, but he does the same to you. The perfect match. Twin flames.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart. Always love giving you guitar lessons,” he smiles as you blush up at him, remembering how the last guitar lesson ended with you on top of his lap.

You shake your head clear of the steamy memories before you get yourself all worked up, changing the conversation casually. “So, having fun watching the football game with my dad?”

He gives you a small laugh as he nods his head, making one of his tousled curls fall down over his forehead. It takes everything in you not to push it back out of his face. “Yeah, the game’s alright. Kinda hard to concentrate when you’re so close though. Think I’d rather be hanging out with his pretty daughter instead,” he smirks, making his honey brown eyes glisten with golden flecks. He was always so pretty, so heavenly, so warm.

“Oh yeah? Is that so?” you smile, resting the guitar on your lap as you trail your fingers along the wooden edges lightly.

“Mhm,” he hums out, standing and staring at you in a dreamlike way. “You excited for the concert Saturday?”

“You know I am,” you say with enthusiasm, sitting up straighter in your chair as you bounce with energy inside.

“I am, too,” he says eagerly. He runs a hand through his tousled curls again and looks at you almost nervously before he asks his next question. “I know your birthday is Friday, and I don’t know if you have plans with your friends or anything, but if you don’t I was thinkin’ maybe you’d wanna spend the night? Sarah’s gonna be gone this weekend, and I figured maybe you’d want a quiet evening in? If not, that’s fine. Just thought I’d offer ‘cause I wanna make your day special. It’s fine if you have plans, but I just…”

You cut him off before he can finish his thought. “Joel, there’s nothing else I’d rather do than be with you. That sounds perfect,” you respond with a big smile plastered on your lips, trying your hardest not to get up and wrap your arms around his neck while you bury yourself in his woodsy scent you so love.

“Really?” he asks almost timidly, not believing you’d want to spend your birthday inside with him when you probably had friends begging to drag you out to some crappy bar.

“Really,” you confirm with the nod of your head and a shy smile splayed on your face.

“Okay. It’s a date then, birthday girl.” His smile reaches his brown doe eyes as they crinkle around the edges, making your heart beat faster by how pretty he is. He’s perfect, so so perfect.

After a few seconds of staring at each other, you clear your throat and interrupt the heavy glances that nearly pull you over the edge. “Well, guess you should get back in there. I’m sure my dad’s wondering where you are,” you sigh, eyes falling back down to your guitar as you fight to not reach out and pull him down with you. It’s getting harder to control your feelings around your parents. You can’t deny it. That’s why you’re not sitting in the living room with them. It’d be too hard to sit on the couch when all you wanted was to be curled up in his lap.

“Yeah, guess I should,” he says slowly, not wanting to go back in just yet.

Before he turns away, you call his name quietly as he turns back toward you. “Miss you,” you whisper, voice barely audible above the blowing wind outside, but he hears you clearly as you see his brown eyes soften.

“I’m right here, baby,” he says as he takes two steps forward, letting his legs meet the edge of the chair as you look up at him.

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah… I do,” he whispers back quietly. He looks back toward the sliding glass doors, looking for any sign of your mom or dad. When he sees no one, he reaches a hand down and runs it through your thick hair slowly. You groan as his nails slide through your scalp, making you feel safe every time his hands are on you.

The next thing he’s doing is leaning down and softly kissing the top of your head slowly as he lets his lips linger there for a few seconds, probably too long. It feels good, always leaves you wanting more.

He stands back up and lets his fingers drop from your hair, stepping back as he smiles one more time at you. “I’ll see you later, baby. Keep practicing, alright? Love hearing you play.” With that, he disappears behind the glass door and leaves you alone with an aching feeling in your gut. You want him. You want him so bad that it hurts. But he’s yours, he’s yours.

You pick up your guitar again and start strumming along the cords, finishing the song you were playing before he came outside. The second you finish the song, you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket. When you dig it out and unlock it you see Joel’s name pop up on the screen.

Joel: Miss you more, pretty girl.

The message nearly sends you into overdrive as you stare at the screen, your lips curled into a huge grin as you read it over and over again. Joel Miller was so soft, so sweet, so tender. You’d never get enough of him. Never.

You slide your phone back into your pocket and strum lightly on the guitar again, only thinking of Joel and his thick, calloused fingers. Thinking of every sweet message he’d ever sent you before. And if your heart wasn’t bursting at the seams before, it was now.

Your parents take you out to Bartlett’s Thursday night for your birthday, the best steakhouse around Austin. You chew on a piece of fresh steak and let the sweet, savory flavors melt in your mouth with every small bite you take.

The restaurant is quiet tonight, only a few couples dwindling at circular tables nearby that chatter quietly amongst themselves. You take in the deep crimson tablecloths, the vase of white roses that sit in the middle of each table, the silverware that’s splayed out next to fine china plates, watch as the busy waiters take water and orders to each table every few minutes. It’s a fancy restaurant, not one you come to often, but it’s one of your favorites.

As you take another bite of the delicious steak, your mom sets down her glass of wine and smiles at you. “So, have any big plans this weekend?”

“Mhm. Might not really be home this weekend. Gonna go out with some of the girls tomorrow, and I have a concert on Saturday,” you reply as you take a sip of red wine, letting it slide down as the taste of cherry meets your tastebuds.

“Oh, who with?” she asks as she cuts into her chewy steak.

“Just a couple girls from class. You don’t know them.” You feel bad for lying, but what could you really say? That you were practically spending all weekend with Joel at his house, and he was taking you on the best date of your life? Yeah right.

“That’s too bad. You’ll have to bring them over to the house sometime,” she says as she adjusts the pearly white necklace that laces around her long neck, letting her dark hair sweep over her shoulders.

“Sure,” you say as you dig your spoon into the fluffy white mashed potatoes.

“What concert you seeing on Saturday?” your dad asks in between mouthfuls of French fries.

“Ghost,” you say nervously, knowing your dad will have something bad to say about the band.

“Oh, isn’t that the band where the singer always wears a mask and dresses in priest costumes and plays that glam rock trash?” he laughs as your mom elbows him in the side.

“Yeah, dad. They aren’t glam rock though. They’re just rock and they’re good.” You emphasize the word and roll your eyes as you place a hand over your thigh.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll have fun,” he laughs. “Did you know Joel was going, too?” he asks as he looks over the table at you. You almost spit out your wine as you choke on the sweet taste in your throat.

“No, I didn’t,” you lie as you dig your nails into your knee, letting them bite at your skin just past the point of pain.

“Huh. Thought he might’ve mentioned it since you’re into those types of bands. I didn’t even know he liked them. Would’ve never guessed, but he does surprise me all the time,” he laughs as he leans back into his chair, patting his full stomach as he cleans off his plate fully.

“Did he say who he was going with?” you ask as you chew another bite of steak, this piece not hitting the spot as nerves run down your spine.

“Said he was going alone. Kinda surprises me. Figured he’d take a date or something. But the old man’s going alone. Maybe you’ll see him there?”

“Maybe,” you say quietly, trying not to crack a smile as you know he’s taking you to the concert. You’re his date.

“Has he been off lately to you?” he asks as he knits his dark eyebrows together and narrows his eyes like he’s deep in thought. “He’s just been busier lately. Seems a lot happier too. Something or someone has been taking his time,” he says carefully.

You feel your cheeks burn red and try to cool down with a big gulp of ice water as you focus on not getting all worked up. “Oh, really? I guess I haven’t noticed then,” you say casually, not displaying much interest as you rut your black heels into the polished floor.

“Just is strange is all. He keeps turning down your mom’s friends, and I keep trying to get him to go out with Alexa, but he won’t budge at all. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with him, but he must be seeing someone,” he stammers out as he crosses his arms over his button-up white shirt.

“Maybe he just enjoys being single. Maybe doesn’t want to deal with dating?” You cock your eyebrow up at him and take another sip of water slowly, letting the icy goodness stop the burn in your throat.

You want to shout it, scream it across the entire restaurant that Joel Miller is yours. He doesn’t want other women because he wants you and you alone. That’s what you want to say to your dad, tell him to stop pushing women onto him because he’s yours. But you can’t. You don’t know if you ever could…

“Mmm. Maybe. But something is definitely up, and I’m gonna find out one of these days,�� he promises.

Maybe he’d find out one day, but it wouldn’t be anytime soon. Not if you could help it.

Friday night you pack a bag and drive over to Joel’s, nerves pulling through you as you don’t know what all he has planned for you. You said you wanted a quiet evening in since tomorrow would be a busy, full day of fun. You know Joel’s full of surprises though. He was always doing things you wouldn’t expect of him. He kept you on your toes constantly.

As you park your SUV in the driveway next to his Chevy and climb out with your bag around your shoulder, you pull the pink dress over your thighs and hug the black jacket around the chill of the cool evening. When you climb up his porch and knock gently on the door, you wait till you hear his name echo through the house.

“C’mon in. Just finishing somethin’ up real quick,” he yells as his deep voice vibrates through the door. You twist the knob and head inside, dropping your purple bag in the entryway as you close the door and twist the lock tight. “In the kitchen,” he calls as you pull off your jacket and hang it on the brown coat rack that hangs by the door.

You smile as you make your way down the dimly lit hall as your white slip on Converse slide over the dark wood easily. You wonder what he’s up to and why he didn’t greet you at the door.

What is that man up to?

When you push past the long hallway and enter into the dim light open kitchen, you freeze in place. Joel stands against the marble countertop with a single red rose in his hand, twirling it between his fingertips as he smiles over at you gently. His brown eyes are warm, and they crinkle around the edges as the lines on his forehead raise when he lifts an eyebrow excitedly.

You gawk at him as you take in the surroundings of the kitchen. There on the center of the counter is a frosted cake that looks like he made it from scratch. Birthday candles glow in the soft lighting as they sparkle as the flame dwindles back and forth. A bouquet of red roses sit behind it with a black bow tied against the glass vase. And on the stove sits shrimp Alfredo and cheesy mashed potatoes, your favorite meal ever. But that’s not all. No. There’s also a small pink package with your name written on with the words happy birthday, angel scribbled on the side.

“Joel…” you whisper out, completely in a daze as your heart pulls in your throat. There’s no words for any of this. No words for how good he is to you.

His lips curl up into a shy smile as he hands the single rose to you, letting his fingers trace against yours as you take the flower from him and grab onto his soft grey t-shirt under his rolled up green flannel. “Happy birthday, baby,” he says as he leans down and brushes his lips against yours. You lean into him and dig your fingers against his cotton shirt, letting yourself take in his rich mahogany and woodsy scent. Wanting to breathe in every part of him as you fall apart all over him.

He drops his lips from yours and takes a step back, his calloused fingers curling around yours as he leans against the counter effortlessly. “Make a wish and blow out the candles, baby,” he smiles as you turn to face the lit up candles on the frosted birthday cake.

You take in the glow of the tall candles and blow gently, watching as the fire turns to smoke as the room fills with the scent of blown out smoky candles. You fan away the lingering smoke and face back toward him, laughing as you go.

He rubs his thumb tenderly over the back of your hand and looks into your eyes intensely. “So, what’d ya wish for?” he asks with a smug smirk on his face.

“I already have my wish. It’s you,” you say choked up, eyes glistening into his as your whole heart swells with warmth.

“Oh, is that right?” he asks as he slides his arms around your waist and pulls you flush to his broad chest, making you giggle in response.

“Mhm, that’s right,” you say shyly.

“Well, then. Looks like we think the same. ‘Cause I’ve been wishin’ for you for a long time.” He tucks a loose curl behind your ear and pulls you in. “C’mere.” He presses his lips against yours as you drink him in, parting your lips to allow him to slot his tongue inside. You embrace his warmth, devour his coffee taste, ravish all of him as you’re tied to him like a strong rope around an anchor. He’s yours. He’s yours.

When he breaks apart his lips from yours, he holds you close to him, not letting you out of his strong grip. Your eyes slide down to the cake with white frosting spread all around the top, some spilling over the corners. You look at it closely, see the way it was so carefully made by hand. And then it dawns on you. He made it.

“So, about the cake. Did you make it?” you ask as your glowing eyes trace up to his, a warm smile growing on his face.

“Mhm. Took me a little bit to get just right, but I think I did pretty good. Strawberry cake with vanilla icing on top. That’s your favorite, right?”

Your eyes widen at the realization. No one had ever made you a cake before that was homemade. And he was so careful to pick out what you liked and what was your favorite things. He was quite literally a slice of heaven. Mere perfection in your eyes.

“Yeah, that’s my favorite. Joel… thank you. That was so sweet. You didn’t have to go through all that trouble for me,” you say shaking your head, laughing at how stupid you must look for getting emotional over a cake. But it wasn’t just that. It was the effort he always put into you, the way he always cared and tried for you. He showed you every single day how much he wanted you, and it nearly brought you to your knees every second that you were his.

“‘Course I did, darlin’. It’s your birthday, your special day. The day you turn twenty-six. I wanted it to be extra special. Wanted to do all the things that make you happy.”

You hook your arms around his neck and smile softly up at him. “You make me happy, Joel Miller. You. Just you breathing and being in my space is enough to make me happy.”

He tics his jaw, and you can see warmth flood his honeysuckle eyes. The crows feet pulling at the edges of his brown eyes the wider he smiles. It’s absolutely mesmerizing. “That’s you, sweet girl. You make me happy.”

He lowers his lips back down to yours as you envelop his syrupy taste and smell, feel every single muscle in your body burn for him. This is what happiness was supposed to feel like, and you found it with Joel. Joel was your happiness.

After a few minutes of making out against the marble counter, you find yourself sitting across from him at the table eating shrimp Alfredo, cheesy mashed potatoes, and seasoned vegetables. It’s delicious, every single bite tasting savory and sensational against your salivating tastebuds.

You take in the mood lighting of the citrus candles, see the two red heart balloons tied to the back of a wooden chair, hear the low hum of a Metallica album playing in the living room. It’s quiet, peaceful, perfect with just the two of you. You couldn’t have asked for a better birthday than this with the sweetest boyfriend your heart could’ve ever desired. He had you hooked like a baited fish, ready to be reeled in at any moment.

“This is delicious. I didn’t know you were such a great cook,” you smile as you take another bite of your creamy Alfredo noodles.

“M’glad you like it. I don’t cook a ton, but when I do I actually kinda enjoy it. It’s sorta relaxing if that makes any sense.”

He takes a bite of his mashed potatoes and keeps his eyes on you, a faint smile curling up on the edge of his big lips. “I get it. It can be fun. Especially if it involves sweets.”

Joel laughs and shakes his head. “‘Course. You always were such a sweet tooth. Weren’t ya?” he asks with a wink, making you blush with the way he’s looking at you like he wants to devour you whole. He makes you frazzled all the time, and you don’t think that would ever go away.

“Speaking of sweet things. You ready for some cake?”

“Oh, I’m so ready,” you smile.

He laughs and rises from his chair, pulling you up by your arm as he takes you over to the counter and cuts you a big piece of cake. He lays it on a white plate, and you see just how pink and delicious it looks as the creamy frosting covers every inch of the square. Before you can take a bite, Joel swipes his index finger into the frosted icing and smears it across your cheek.

Your eyes grow wide and your eyebrows rise in surprise. “Joel!” you whine as you try to brush it off your skin. Joel grabs your wrist carefully before you can clean it off yourself.

“Oops. Was an accident,” he smiles mischievously as a devilish smirk curls around the edges of his lips.

“Haha very funny,” you chime out as you roll your eyes. “Now clean up the mess you made, Mr. jokester.”

He fully obliges as he pulls you to his broad chest and moves your hair to the side. “I planned on it,” he smirks. He flattens his warm tongue against your cheek and laps up all the frosting, making sure he goes slow, gets every speck as something pulls deep in your stomach. You shouldn’t be this turned on by him cleaning off the mess he made, but you are. So turned on.

“It’s good, baby. So sweet,” he purrs, a full smirk encased over his lips as he stares you down with those dreamy chocolate eyes of his.

“Didn’t even let me have the first taste,” you pout, jutting your bottom lip out as he smiles in return.

“I’m sorry, baby. Here. Have a taste.” He hooks his thick thumb into the icing again and brings it to your cherry coated lips. “Open up, darlin’.”

You fully oblige, opening your mouth just wide enough for him to slide his thumb in. You lick his finger clean, letting the vanilla goodness run down your throat as you hold tight to his wrist. You give him another long lick, this one just for show and watch him burn with desire.

His pupils can’t decide what to do. They grow wider, blowing out as darkness takes over. The once honey colored eyes grow into dark, deep chocolate eyes that want to devour you whole. He’s as turned on as you now, his breathing picking up as his nostrils flare out. “Taste good?” he asks as his large hands cover the sides of your hips, digging his nails into you for good measure.

“So good,” you purr.

He backs you up slowly to the edge of the counter, his finger digging back into your piece of cake as he takes a chunk of pasty frosting and paints it all over your inner thigh. “Oh, I’m so sorry.” He drags out the words with a pathetic apology as he bends down and wraps his hand around your ankle, sliding his tongue up your thigh as he nibbles at the frosting, lazing his tongue up and down like he’s licking a cold popsicle on a warm summer day.

You dig your hands into the cool marble, sinking your nails in deep as you try to hold in a moan. He’s doing this on purpose, but you don’t mind. You want him to keep going. “Joel,” you whine out as you feel your panties start to grow wet under your blooming arousal. “What are you… oh.” Your words cut off as he trails higher, nipping just inches below your short pink dress.

Fuck, he loves to tease you. He’s getting you all worked up, wanting you nice and wet for him. He knows how to get you there, too. He’s too damn smooth with his moves. He could get you off by just the sound of his melodic, deep voice. Could make you cum by just blowing sweet whispered incantations in your ear.

“Wanted something even sweeter to eat and that would be you, darlin’.”

He hoists you up on the counter, bare legs hanging down as he stands up slowly, arms hooking around your waist and sliding you forward to the edge. Your breath gets caught in your throat as your cheeks burn hot. You feel flushed, turned on, excited. He was going to make you cum hard, you just knew it.

“You look so beautiful in that pink dress, baby. Did I tell you that yet?” he asks tenderly as he slides his hands up your short skirt, one hand ghosting across your slick center as you breathe out a flustered breath.

“No, I don’t think so,” you gulp as his thumb brushes over your clothed folds, elating a gasp as he breezes past the edge of your needy clit. You whine between your teeth as he drops his thumb.

“You’re always so fuckin’ wet, sweetheart,” he growls, teasing his other hand across the waistband of your panties.

“Mhm. You always make me wet,” you moan, begging him to put his fingers on you again. He gets the point from your pleading eyes and your labored breathing, stepping into you as he pushes your thighs further apart as his large body crowds your space.

“Hips up for me, sweetheart,” he asks nicely, and you generously obey.

As you lift your hips, he pulls the soaked black lace down your legs, dropping them to the floor as he lifts your skirt up all the way, leaving your pussy on full display for him to feast on with his eyes. His eyes go pitch black, pupils blown out as he licks his bottom lip seductively. It makes you want him even more as you watch the flames in his eyes dance for you.

“So fuckin’ pretty, baby. Soakin’ wet for me. Goddamn,” he says with a lust filled haze in his voice. He trails his fingers up your inner thigh, brushes over your center and spreads your folds wide as he sinks his calloused thumb down on you, slowly circling your puffy clit meticulously.

“Joel,” you moan, bucking your hips up as your body screams in pleasure. More, more, more.

“Oh, you like that do you?” he asks with a raised eyebrow, a smirk pressed hard on the edge of his mouth.

“Mhm,” you hum out, unable to respond with words right now.

“Well, think you’ll like what I’m gonna do next,” he smirks.

He drops to his knees before you, hooking your legs over his broad shoulders as he gently kisses up your ankle, past your knees, up your inner thighs tenderly and then stops before he gets to your center where you need him most.

He glances up at you, a pure vision as his pupils blow out wide and his tousled curls drop down on his forehead slightly. He looks so damn handsome, so ravenous as he stares up at you with that heated look in his smoldering eyes. He wants to eat you alive, and you’ll let him.

“Birthday girls deserve to cum,” he smirks, half-hooded eyes staring up at you. “And I’m gonna make you cum hard, baby,” he growls.

Before you can respond, his mouth is on you in a flash. He licks a thick, generous stripe up your folds and groans at the first taste of you. You arch your back against the counter as he spreads your folds and draws slow, meticulous circles over your throbbing clit.

You moan out his name and dig your fingers into his tousled curls, eliciting a deep groan out of Joel’s chest as your fingers deepen in his hair. His tongue is so experienced, so impressive as he devours you, leaving you completely breathless every time he sucks and pulls your throbbing bundle of nerves into his giving mouth.

He moves two fingers inside of your dripping hole, slowly pumping his fingers deep inside you as you swear you feel him hit the back of your walls over and over again. You moan his name out loudly as he hooks his thick fingers up, hitting that deep spongy spot that makes you tighten your ankles around the back of his neck.

“You like that, don’t ya, baby?” he coos, lust blown eyes staring up at you from the dark wooden floor.

“Yes, ahhh,” you say in a breathy moan, voice getting higher pitched the more he ruts up into you. Your walls flutter around him the deeper he goes. You’re so close that you can taste the desire to cum on the back of your tongue, fingers twisting around his curls as you beg him to lick you up and down again.

“What do ya want, angel? Use your words,” he coos gently as he continues to pulverize your insides again and again.

“Want your…. want your tongue on me,” you whine, biting your lip as you feel more slick run down your thigh.

“Can you say please, baby? Say it. I wanna hear it…” he purrs, black eyes trained on you. “I love when you beg.”

“Pleaseeeee, Joel,” you beg hoarsely.

“Good girl,” he growls. He dives his tongue back into you, moving it up and down as he tastes you, torments you into oblivion. He tugs at your swollen clit, moaning every time he pulls you into his mouth, savoring your sweet flavor on his delicious tongue.

He loves eating you out, loves making you feel good, loves to make you cum as he feasts on you. You’re his favorite meal of the day he always tells you. He could eat you up every second of every day if he could. He loves it, craves it, needs it. Needs you.

He pumps his fingers faster, swirls his tongue languidly over your clit, and you’re right on the edge. You feel the warm rush start in your spine, slowly easing over your stomach and pelvis, warming your insides as you clench up around his fingers. You claw at his hair, feel your eyes start to roll in the back of your skull as white noise rushes through your ears.

“That’s it, baby. Give it to me. Yeah. There ya go. Let me see you spill for me,” he growls, pulling your tingling bundle of nerves into his mouth, and it sends you over the edge one last time.

You tighten up against his fingers and feel yourself wash over him with warm slick that doesn’t seem to stop. He groans as he licks up the mess between your legs, laps at every crevice of your center as he licks and licks until there’s nothing left except your oversensitive clit and sated feeling.

You collapse back onto your elbows as you watch him slide your panties back into place, see him stand up tall over you as your slick coats his patchy beard, glistening over his dark mustache. He’s so beautiful, so fucking perfect. And he’s yours. He’s yours.

He places his large hands around your waist and scoots you to the edge, gently lowering you down to the ground as he braces you against his firm chest. Your legs shake underneath you, but he holds you up to where you can’t fall.

“Whoa, easy there. Think I did a number on your legs,” he laughs as he trails his hand up and down your lower back, soothing you from the intense orgasm he just gave you.

“You can say that,” you laugh as you lean your head into his soft flannel, eyes looking up at him as you see the soft glow of your slick on his beard. It nearly sends you falling to the floor.

“You gonna make it upstairs tonight?” he asks with an amused look on his face as his honey eyes seep into yours affectionately.

“Gonna have to carry me.”

“That can be arranged,” he smirks.

He picks you up and cradles you bridal style as you wrap your arms around his neck, laughing carefree as he takes you up the stairs and places you into his bed, leaving room for him to slide in beside you. When he finds a comfortable spot on his back, he pulls you into his arms as you lay your head on his chest and wrap an arm around his side.

“This is nice,” you say quietly as he takes his hand and entwines his fingers with yours, knotting them together like a ball of yarn as you get lost in his calloused touch. He slides his thumb over the back of your hand, gently caressing you with nothing but care in his touch. The feeling is soothing, relaxing, delicate. You crave his touch like you crave caffeine, the feeling euphoric and addicting.

“Mhm. Love havin’ you here with me, baby. Feels empty when you’re not,” he says honestly as he takes his right hand and rakes it through your hair gently, lulling you into a calm, sated state.

“Yeah? You miss me when I’m not here?” you ask, shifting your weight to lift your chin and look up at him behind your long lashes.

“All the time,” he breathes, a still gaze focused on you as his calm eyes drag over you slowly. Your heart aches in your chest, a longing burn carrying through your body as you sit and stare at the man that sets your soul on fire. You ache for him, burn for him, mourn when he isn’t around. Two souls on fire for the other. A perfect match made in heaven. Joel was your saving grace, your way to heaven. You think he’d always be.

You raise up and settle onto his chest, brushing your lips over his as you savor his taste, still tasting the frosting from minutes before of the cake you still haven’t fully tasted. That could wait. Right now you wanted Joel.

“You miss me even now?” you tease, nose brushing over his as he smiles warmly up at you.

“Yes,” he murmurs, putting his hands behind your hips as he hugs you to his chest.

“Me too,” you reply, lips hovering just over his.

“I’m right here, baby. Not goin’ anywhere.” He pulls your head down to his as his lips crash into yours, feeling as if you were just splashed with a refreshing rush of water. You sink down into him, your hands running wildly through his tousled curls as his tongue dances along with yours. It’s slow, hot, possessive as he invades your mouth with his sweet taste that makes you weak at the knees.

You don’t know how long you’re there for, don’t know how you go from being fully clothed to completely naked as your bodies toss and turn passionately in the dark blue sheets. Your mind is a blur as your legs go over his shoulders, his thick cock driving into you over and over again as slick covers his entire length.

It feels like your whole body is on fire, center sated as he pumps you full of himself, emptying his spend in you as you both moan and whine as the orgasms wash over you like a blanket of bliss.

He pulls you back into his chest, breath ragged as you both come down from your orgasms. The room is hot, smelling of thick arousal and sex. It smells like him, the man you’re absolutely crazy about. It puts you at complete ease as you start to drift off to sleep on his chest with his thick fingers running through your hair.

You don’t remember falling asleep, it doesn’t take long till you’re under a blanket of darkness, but you’re not alone. Joel’s here with you. Easing you and lulling you into a blissful night’s sleep as you wrap yourself in his mahogany scent. This is where you belong, where you’ll choose to stay. This is it. This is home. He is home.

The next day is absolutely perfect. Joel gives you the best morning sex or your life and cooks you breakfast right after you shower together. Blueberry pancakes, bacon, scrambled eggs, and leftover cake that melts like cotton candy in your mouth. You swear you’ve never tasted something as sweet and delicious before except for maybe him.

He picks up your favorite ice cream, strawberry, and then spends the day walking around hand in hand with you at Mayfield Park and Nature Preserve. One of your favorite places to relax and clear your mind. But you don’t have to clear your mind today, you get to relish in the fact that your favorite person in the entire world is at your side and trailing his calloused thumb up and down the back of your hand slowly, intimately. And it’s probably the best birthday weekend you’ve ever had in your life. Not even your sweet sixteen could top this one. Not when you have Joel.

You stay there till it’s time to get ready for the concert. You let the open windows of his revved up Chevy blow through your locks, let your arm hang out the window as you take in the cool breeze of November, soaking up the Texas sun as it warms the back of your arm. He lays his hand over your thigh and rubs slow circles over the material of your faded blue jeans. It’s so easy with him. Everything is easy with him. And you just know he’s the one you’re supposed to be with. He’s the one you were meant to find. Your everything…

In the next hour, you’re standing in his bedroom and assessing the outfit you picked to wear tonight. Your hands fall over the tight black leather skirt, smoothing out the wrinkles as you turn in a circle and make sure everything is intact. The sparkly lace sleeveless tank top fits you perfectly, and the white slip-on Converse just adds to the outfit. You feel hot, ready to enjoy a night of good music and even better company.

You generously apply some shiny pink lip gloss to your moisturized lips and draw sharp cat eyes with your liquid eyeliner over your sparkly, smokey eyeshadow. As you smooth out your wavy curls, you hear a low whistle come from the corner of the room and hear his drawn out deep voice come out like a dream.

“You look so good, baby. Absolutely breathtaking,” he says with a hum to his voice that comes off like a lilt, a voice you could listen to all day long on repeat.

You smile and roll your eyes nonchalantly, turning towards him and freeze when you take in just what he’s wearing. He leans up against the doorway of the bathroom, his right arm flexing against the rolled up red flannel that fights against his bulging biceps. His veins run thickly down his arms, whispering tempting thoughts into your ears to go sink into them.

His hair is slicked back, tousled curls held down by the gel that glues them in place. His flannel is left open, a dark Metallica shirt clinging to his broad chest. His dark blue jeans press firmly to his toned thighs, and when your eyes skate down his long legs you gasp at the shoes he wears. White Chuck Taylor All Star Converse sit laced against his feet, pulling the whole outfit together perfectly.

Your jaw drops to the floor at how ridiculously good he looks. He’s not just good looking, he’s so hot. The hottest man you’d ever seen in your life. And the white Converse? You’d never seen him wear any before. He was always in his worn, leather work boots. Not today, though. Today he wore Converse. Today was something new.

“What?” he asks with knitted brows pulled together, bringing his arm down from the doorway as he crosses his arms together, making the flannel pull tight around big arms. “Do I look funny or something? I can change if…”

“No!” you shout, cutting off his sentence as he looks at you surprised. “You look good, Joel. So good like wow. How the fuck are you so hot?”

He chuckles as he sticks his big hands into the pockets of his jeans. “You think I look hot?” he asks in an amused tone, his lips curling up into a big grin as a dimple forms against his cheek.

He’s so fucking beautiful.

“Yes,” you say while nodding your head fervently. “And the Converse? I’ve never seen you wear anything like that,” you say with shock rolling off your tongue, still amazed at what you were seeing.

“Oh, these?” he asks as he kicks one foot out, scoffing against the grey carpet. “Sarah helped me pick them out at the mall. I told her I was taking you to a rock concert, and she helped me look for some kinda like yours. Said she thought they were perfect, so I went with ‘em. Wanted to match with my girl,” he blushes as he runs a hand through his slick curls nervously.

You’re speechless, left lock jawed and trying not to get emotional. But the effort he put into picking out the right shoes, the way he wanted to match you? Well, that in itself was enough to start a fire in your heart.

“Joel Miller,” you say incredibly as you walk up to him and throw your arms around his neck, his own arms circling your hips as he pulls you into his chest, “you are the sweetest, most kind boyfriend I’ve ever had. You really went shopping for new shoes just for me? To match me?”

“Mhm,” he hums out, “wanted to make a good impression for a certain beautiful girl who’s way out of my league,” he teases as a small chuckle leaves his lips, his fingers digging into the leather of your skirt.

You laugh as you cup your hands together behind his neck, feeling his hair tickle the insides of your wrists. “Out of my league, huh?” you ask curiously, cocking your eyebrow up as you tread dangerously close to the edge of his smooth lips.

“That’s right. What’s a young, beautiful thing like you want with a forty-seven year old single father like me?” he laughs, a hint of insecurity shuttering on the tip of his tongue as his caramel eyes swirl in your vision.

You take the tip of your index finger and place it on his bottom lip, silently putting all his insecurities to sleep. “Everything,” you manage to say aloud.

You drop your finger and grab his soft t-shirt, pulling his lips down to yours as you both get lost in the cosmic kiss that sets your soul on fire. You take in his masculine, rich cologne scent and entangle yourself in his tousled curls, getting drawn into all of him as he pulls you tighter against him, lingering his lips on yours as he pulls at your bottom lip and slowly disconnects from your mouth. You groan at the loss of him.

“Should probably head out,” he says raggedly as he catches his breath. You nod in agreement.

“Yeah, guess we should.”

He takes your hand in his firm grip and leads you out of his room and down the stairs to his parked Chevy in the driveway, making sure he opens your door as you climb into the comfy seat of his truck. When he starts up the truck and latches his seatbelt into the buckle, he places his hand on the top of your knee and draws slow circles as you melt into his warm, calloused touch.

You’d go anywhere with him, let him drive all night long with the wind in your hair and his hand running up and down your thigh slowly as you look at his perfect side profile with his lips curled up in a delicious smile that sets your soul on fire. This is where you wanted to be, where you always wanted to be.

The concert venue is packed as you walk through the glass doors and hand over your shiny tickets for the attendant to scan you in. As you step through the doorway, you see the various colorful guitars line the walls, see packs of people walking left and right trying to navigate their way around the venue. The smell of beer and popcorn fill the air, mixed perfumes getting lost in the crowd as you move through the sea of people.

You make your way down the concrete steps and walk into the general admission area, finding a place right in the middle as Joel’s hand doesn’t stray away from your interlocked fingers. The sound of Blink-182 hums through the speakers as various types of people sing to the words.

You look up at Joel and see his eyes scanning the stage at the setup of the band equipment, shifting his weight from side to side to the beat of the song. You know he doesn’t know this band, but you’ll amuse him anyways.

“Do you even know who this band is?” you laugh as you look at his pearlescent teeth shining just underneath his parted lips.

“Ummm, Fall Out Boy?” he asks with his eyebrows knitted together and a line of wrinkles mapping all along his forehead. You stifle out a chuckle as you shake your head.

“No, close. Blink-182,” you smile, laughing with him as he runs a nervous hand through his slicked back curls.

“Ahh. Was close,” he chuckles. “You’re gonna have to give me a lesson on all these bands you like. I can’t keep up.”

“Only if you show me more of the music you love. I’m not as familiar with older rock bands from the 70’s-80’s. Except maybe a few,” you say as you lean into his arm, resting your head on his shoulder as he hums out an idea.

“I will, but maybe I can just take you to some shows? Like Metallica, Led Zeppelin, Guns N’ Roses?” he asks as his honeysuckle eyes linger on yours, making a shiver run down your spine in the heat of his stare.

You flutter your eyelashes up at him as you part your lips, tasting happiness and contentment on the tip of your tongue. “I would love to, Joel. I’ll go to any concert you want, will go anywhere you want. As long as I’m with you, that’s all that matters.”

A warm smile fills his face, his honey eyes lighting up like fireworks as the crow’s feet pull tight at the sides. He looks like magic with the dimly lit colorful lights floating above him, painting the room shades of red and warm colors as his smile reflects off the illumination of the large arena. And you can’t help but feel that deep ache pull in your gut. Tugging at your heartstrings as he reaches inside your chest, entwining his own strings with yours as you become completely tangled together. One beating heart that burns for the other. Irrevocable, bound. A clear picture of two souls completely enamored with the other. Just like a spreading fire, burning shades of amber and orange that coat your insides with pure bliss. Wildfire.

Just as you get lost in his amber eyes, the lights go down and Breaking Benjamin takes the stage as the entire crowd erupts into screams of excitement. You break eye contact and draw your eyes to the now lit up stage as the lead singer yells to ask how everyone is doing tonight. More screaming erupts and then they start up playing “Breath”, one of their more popular songs.

Joel pulls you into his broad chest as his arms snake around your waist, holding you close through their whole performance. You sway your hips, sing along to every song, and even Joel nods his head to the beat.

He surprises you when you hear him quietly singing parts of “Angels Fall”, one of your favorites that you’ve probably played for him hundreds of times. But it warms your heart to know he’s grown to like this band, a band which you’ve loved since you could remember. And you can’t help but look up from the corner of your eye and watch the way he stays transfixed on the stage, paying attention to every detail of the guitarist’s hands as they strum along the stage. You could see him up there, shredding on the electric guitar. A sight you’d pay anything to see.

He catches you looking up at him, and he smiles gently as he pulls his lips down, down, down until he’s placing a gentle kiss on your temple. You lean into him, taking in every single moment of this night with your dreamy date. You can’t think of anywhere else you’d rather spend this night than with him.

When they finish their last song and clear the stage, the lights come back up and the sea of crowd parts like the Red Sea, opening up the pit as people flock to go get drinks and merch up the stairs. You turn around to Joel stretching his back, a slight wince in his furrowed eyebrows as you hear him pop his back and neck.

“You alright?” you ask as you reach a hand out to rub at his lower back.

“Mhm. Just didn’t realize I’d be so stiff standing at a concert. My knees are killing me,” he whines with the huff of his warm breath.

“I’m sorry. Can I do anything to help?” you ask as you run your hand up his thick, veiny arm in a calming aura. Joel catches your wrist and brings it back down to his side to lace his fingers in between yours.

“Nah, I’ll be fine, angel. Don’t worry about me. Just gettin’ old is all,” he says with a deep chuckle as it radiates through your chest.

“You’re not old,” you laugh as you smack him lightly against his arm.

“Oh, yes I am,” he fires back.

“Whatever,” you say with an eye roll that makes him laugh even more.

“Next time we’ll get seats. How ‘bout that?” he asks with a charming smile spread taut across his mouth. It sends butterflies through your lower regions.

“Deal,” you nod as you spill up at him.

Next time. The words give you life, make you tingle with warmth as the words make a silent promise that there will be a next time. This thing you have together isn’t just temporary. It means he wants you. He wants you. And you want him. Forever and always. You never want to let him go. Never.

It doesn’t take long until Ghost comes out on stage, lighting up the venue with flashing bright lights and visuals that give off a party vibe. Tobias is dressed in a fitted black suit with his black hair slicked back and his skeleton looking mask stuck to his face. He’s handsome, making all the girls swoon as he flirts with the audience and starts off the show with “Spillways” blaring through the speakers.

The crowd sways and jumps, singing out all the lyrics as you hear men and women scream every time the guitarists gesture their hands in the audience’s direction. You feel Joel behind you nodding his head to the beat, feel his foot tap along to the cords of the guitar that echo through the arena. He’s enjoying himself, having fun. You can’t help but feel a little dizzy that you’re actually here with him. That he liked you so much that he’d get out of his comfort zone and take you to see a band he slowly warmed up to. And he ended up liking these guys, you just couldn’t believe it.

During the middle of the show, “Dance Macabre” starts to play and you spin around fast as Joel laces his hands into yours eagerly. It’s your song, the one you and Joel always turn up loud when it plays in his truck. Our song.

There’s a sting in the way you kiss me.

Something within your eyes said it could be the last time before it’s over.

Joel spins you in a circle and pulls you against his chest, slow dancing with you in a circle as you both laugh and chant out the lyrics together.

Just want to be, want to bewitch you in the moonlight.

Just want to be, want to bewitch you all night.

The lyrics hit you like a tsunami, Joel had bewitched you. He won you over heart and soul. Every single part of him you desired, burned for.

As you continue to dance and sing the lyrics to each other, the world seems to fade away. It’s almost like everyone else in the room disappears, fades into the black. You can only hear Joel’s melodic voice carrying through your ears as you sink deeper into him. His warm, deep brown eyes only look at you, and they shine brighter than you’ve ever seen them glow before.

You can’t break away from his gaze, can’t wipe the ridiculous grin you have plastered on your face, can’t stop singing the enchanting lyrics with him as he spins you around once more, latching his arms around your waist as he pulls you in.

You wrap your arms around his neck, stand on your tiptoes to ghost your lips over his as he brings his forehead down onto yours, resting it there as he stares deep into your eyes. It’s just you and him, floating off on your own island that was made just for you as the music carries through your ears.

This feels different, so intimate, so special. It’s as if the universe and all the stars aligned together to put you and Joel in this place and time together. Like nothing else matters in the world. It’s just you and him dancing, singing the lyrics together, and getting lost in each other's eyes. It’s absolute magic, magnetic, euphoric. And you swear you see forever in his eyes.

When the song ends he pulls you in for a slow, romantic kiss, not caring about who might see. He doesn’t care about anything other than you in this moment of time, doesn’t want to ever let this moment go. Because it means the world to him. You mean the world to him.

When you turn back towards the stage and Joel wraps his arms back around your waist, you pull your iPhone out and open up the camera. You want to remember this moment forever, want to keep it locked safe in your memories so you can look back months later and remember one of the happiest nights of your life.

“Take a picture with me?” you ask shyly as you hold your phone up.

“What, the prettiest girl wants to take a picture with me? I’m flattered, sweetheart. Gonna make me look bad though,” he smiles as he blows gently against your ear, nipping your earlobe as you drown in his sweet smelling cologne.

“I could never make you look bad, Joel Miller,” you laugh.

You angle the phone just right where you’re both looking into the camera, his face resting beside your cheek as he smiles devastatingly handsome into the lense. You snap a picture and then another, but then he’s changing positions and giving you a gentle kiss on the cheek.

You snap another picture of him like that, looking nothing but love struck for each other. Then you turn around and plant your lips on his as he holds you tight by the waist. You capture the moment, snapping a couple shots as your lips linger over his. These would be some of the best memories of tonight, something you could print off and put in a picture frame. Your favorite keepsake of them all, and that was Joel Miller.

You drag your tired legs outside the concert venue, dreading the long walk back to the truck. It’s only a few blocks away, but still. It feels like miles in the state you’re in.

Joel notices you lagging behind and slows his long stride. “You okay there? Look a little tired,” he asks as he takes your hand in his to steady yourself.

“I’m just tired. I feel like I’m about to fall over. Soooo tired and my feet are on fire, but it was absolutely worth it,” you smile, eyes lighting up at the curl of his lips on his beautiful face.

“You need a hand, darlin’? Don’t want ya fallin’ over on me now,” he laughs, and the sound is infectious as it rings sensually through your ears.

“I’ll be okay,” you sigh, continuing to walk with the burn of the back of your heels.

Before you can comprehend what happens, he scoops you up and throws you over his shoulder as you scream and laugh at the same time, throwing your arms around his neck to support yourself.

“Joel! Put me down! I don’t want people seeing up my skirt,” you laugh as he tugs on the material, making sure you’re fully covered.

“Not a chance, sweetheart. And you’re covered, I got ya.” He gives a gentle slap to your ass as you shriek and dig your fingers into his tousled curls at the nape of his neck. You relax your head against the crook of his neck and let him carry you back to the truck as the bottom of your feet start to let up.

“Your back, Joel. I don’t want to irritate it,” you say with concern running off your tongue. The last thing you want to do is throw his back out. You’d be giving him back massages endlessly to make up for it if that’s what happened.

“I’m alright, darlin’. Don’t worry about me. Gotta take care of the birthday girl,” he beams as he carries you across the road to the large, busy parking lot he parked in earlier.

“You’re sweet, Joel, but really. I don’t want to hurt you,” you repeat, your words coming out more serious than before.

“I’m fine, baby. Really.” You nod your head and sigh, continue letting him carry you until he gets to the truck, unlocking the door as he sits you down into the passenger seat and closes the door gently behind you. When he opens his door and gets situated in the driver’s seat, you flatten your body over the entire front seat and curl your head onto his lap as you dig your hand into his dark jeans.

“You gonna make me drive like that, baby?” he laughs as you turn on your back and look up at him, latching on to his flannel as you smile up at him.

“Was thinking about it.”

A deep chuckle rumbles in his chest, and you can feel all the vibrations in his body go through yours. It’s a nice feeling, makes you feel even more connected to him.

“I had the best time tonight,” you say quietly as you drag your thumb against the cotton material, making circular patterns as you focus on the way he’s looking at you. Like you’re the only one he sees.

“Me too, angel. I can’t tell you the last time I had that much fun at a concert. But I can tell you one thing, it’s because you were with me,” he says with his lips curling up into a sideways smile that nearly takes the breath from you.

“Yeah?” you ask with raised eyebrows.

“Yeah,” he confirms with the nod of his head, a stray curl falling down onto his forehead as it escapes from the gel in his hair. You lift your hand and push it back into place, letting him catch your wrist and bring his lips down to your knuckles, tenderly kissing them as he brings your hand back down to your lap.

He trails his calloused fingers against your cheekbone slowly, dipping them over your jawline as tingles rush down your spine. His fingers feel electric, magnetic, like a current flowing through your insides.

His eyebrows knit together in concentration and he brushes his thumb against your bottom lip, letting it linger as he stares soulfully down to your lips, letting his honey eyes pull back up to yours.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” he asks quietly, a dazed expression meeting his eyes as the words come out warm, almost loving.

You nod up at him slowly. “You make me feel beautiful, Joel. You.”

He stares at you for another minute, eyes flicking between your lips and then back into your eyes. This time he holds your gaze, his eyes shifting into something you’ve never seen before. Something new, something exciting, uncharted territory.

You get lost in his gaze, exploring every warm fleck of sunlight that captures his brown irises. You watch the light brown flecks turn to warm honey colors as they seem to mix in with the darker brown shades of his eyes. You swear you can see whole galaxies in those eyes, can see yourself etched into the crevices that mix to make sunlight and splashes of amber painted together. You think you see your whole future in his eyes, can hear his irises calling your name like that’s where you belong, can feel yourself mixed together in the blood that keeps his beating heart alive, can taste the promise of forever in his arms. Like home is in his eyes, in his mind, in his heart, in his spirit, in his entire being. And you know that this is more than just infatuation and attraction. It’s more than chemistry, more than just a fling. It’s love, it’s pure undeniable love.

You see the way his eyes grow wide, see his lips curl up into the most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen before. You see he realizes it now, too. He feels it just as much as you do, feels the irrevocable pull that ties him to you, sees the girl of his wildest dreams. And that girl is you. It’s you.

He says your name slowly, quietly as he brushes a curl behind your ear and drags his fingers down your jawline, stopping right on your cheek as he traces slow strokes against your soft skin. And you know it’s coming, can see it in those dreamy eyes of his that you so desperately long to see every single day.

“I love you…” The words wash slowly off his lips as those three words send a wildfire running down your veins, coating your insides with warmth and longing that you’ve never felt before. He loves you. He loves you.

You wipe away a tear that pulls at your waterline, letting your smile take over your giddy features as you reach your hand up and run it through his salt and pepper scruff, getting lost in his touch, his scent, his everything. For this moment is raw, real, so very authentic.

“And I love you, Joel Miller. So much. So very much. How’d I get so lucky?” you choke out as he leans down and crashes his lips against yours as the flames ignite together.

The kiss is messy, passionate, everything you ever wanted after the sweetest love confession of your life. You let him bury his hands in your hair, let him inside your mouth as he slots his tongue up against yours, getting completely lost in his taste, his smell, his passion.

You know now that he burns for you just as much as you burn for him. Two flames consuming the other until there’s only one left. Twin flames that burn bright together. And it’s everything you ever wanted, everything you ever dreamed.

Joel Miller is it for you. He’s the only one that can set your soul on fire like this. The only one you want to set you on fire. And so you let him burn in your presence, consume you until you’re nothing but a flame that only burns for him. He’s your constant, your person, your everything.

When you finally part lips and find the parking lot almost empty, Joel starts the truck up and puts it in drive, leaving one hand tangled in yours as your fingers connect like webs. Your head stays in his lap as your eyes close partially, letting the hum of the truck and his calloused fingers sing you to sleep. You’re going back home. Not to your parent’s place, but to his. That’s where you belong, where you want to stay. With him. Because he is your home.

He’s home.

[luxurychristmaspudding]

wait | listen/watch/touch

summary: it’s just a shirt. at least, that’s what you keep telling yourself.

grouping: f!reader x joel miller x frankie morales x santiago garcia

ratings/warnings: 18+, MDNI. smut, dacryphilia, p in v, light bondage, general (sadly not acacius) horny thoughts. takes place in the listen/watch/touch'verse. don't think too hard about timelines.

series masterlist

wc: 500+ (it's a baby!)

an: you have @undercoverpena to thank for this one. jo spun her magic wheel for her birthday celebrations, gave me this colour, and said ‘how very frankie/joel of you’. and - ya know - i had to pay them a visit. i'm sorry this turned out so smutty after swearing it wouldn't lol.

thanks also to @itsokbbygrl, who has filled my brain with the most delicious thoughts over the last few days.

happy birthday darling jo. you are a sparkling star, a ray of sunshine. so generous with your kindness and talent. i’m so lucky to have met you <3

The last time he wore it, Joel fucked you in it. 

Hard and fast over the back of the couch, until you could feel your cum leaking down your thighs, until you could hardly remember your own name. Caged in by his arm on one side, his other hand holding you down by the back of your neck. Heavy and hard against you, his lips pressed to the curve of your spine, heat pulsing off him in waves. You were sweating, somewhere close to tears, close to the brink of unbearable pleasure. His grunts, rattling around in your swimming mind, his praises - good girl, I know, I know, just feels so good doesn’t it, baby? - the slick, wet sound of your cunt as you begged him. Begged him for more, for less, to devour you, consume you, swallow you and the world whole the way only he can.

Just a little longer, he’d moaned. Wait.

The last time you wore it, you fucked Frankie in it.

Swathed in the warmth of Joel’s smell as you rocked your hips against him, his mouth shining with your wetness, pretty flush all the way up his chest. This time, he was the one begging. Begging you not to stop, to let him come, to let him fill you up. Begging for relief against the suck of your greedy cunt, the way it tightened around him, begging for relief against the want and the heat, the smell of sex, the all consuming feeling of you against him. Anything to lessen the pressure in his belly, the tightness in his thighs. The days this had played out for, touching, not touching. You gonna break the rules, baby girl?

You’d slowed, pulled off, dragging your swollen, soaked folds over him. 

Wait, baby boy. Just a little longer.

The last time you saw it, it was in Santi’s hands.

A scrap of anything would do to tie you up, hold you back. Keep you from the scene playing out before you - the tongues, the open mouths, the moans, the hands knotted into fists, the curses, the three beautiful men just out of arm's reach. And you’d cried for real then. Squirming against the sheets, wrists bound, as you pleaded brokenly, wantonly, for someone to touch you, to fuck you. 

Watching through bleary eyes as Frankie crawled between your legs, as he kissed up your thighs, gasping as he slipped his tongue against your clit. Moaning into Joel’s mouth as he kissed you, feeding you his tongue. As he laid himself down at your altar, as you breathed in his musky scent, mixed with Frankie and Pope’s. As he licked the tears from your cheeks, rough hands all over your body. Santi, untying your hands from that damn green shirt, pressing tender kisses down your neck before latching his teeth around the sensitive bud of your nipple.

You’ve waited, you’ve waited. Not patiently, not like you were told. But when it comes together like this - when you come together like this - it’s so worth it. 

And now, seeing that shirt slung over the back of the chair in Joel's room, where it all started, you don’t think you can be patient again.

divider from @/saradika-graphics

[opheliasflora]

Title: The Dance (Joel Miller/gn!Reader)

Rating: Teen

Word count: 872

Warnings: Ain’t nothing but fluff, but Ellie’s here so there’s an f-bomb in there. And a bit of making out. (No use of gendered pronouns; no Y/N; Joel calls Reader “honey”. Reader is suggested to be slightly shorter than Joel, but it’s not definitive.)

Notes: Written in about…ten minutes, just inspired by that photo up there. It’s what Joel and Ellie deserve, not what they actually get. Completely un-betaed and honestly…I didn’t even reread it after writing it. This is about as stream-of-consciousness as something could be.

For @ladamedusoif.

(Dividers by @saradika-graphics.)

You’ve never seen Joel look simultaneously so relaxed and so terrified.

He’s been your neighbor since he and Ellie moved to Jackson; the little yard shared between the backs of your houses a space where you slowly learned about the man and his girl that otherwise mostly kept to themselves. Conversations over garden work turned to nights over drinks; Ellie’s presence faded a bit as she made friends, leaving you and Joel alone under the stars more often than not.

Now, though, he sits across the room from you, eyes reflecting the little fairy lights strung overhead. His hair is longer than it had been when you met, despite his sister-in-law’s best attempts to convince him to let her cut it; his clothes fit a bit better now that he’s eating more regularly.

His gaze is trained on his daughter — not his by birth, he’d informed you one late night, but his daughter nonetheless — as she laughs and dances with Dina in the middle of the floor. “I think she’s in love,” he’d told you a few days earlier. “I hope she’ll tell me.”

“She will,” you’d replied. “At her own pace.”

You can empathize with Ellie.

Something drives you to stand up, to move across the room and drop a hand gently on Joel’s shoulder. “Hey.”

“Hiya,” he says, lifting his eyes from Ellie to you. There’s the ghost of a smile on his lips. (Ellie once told you you’re the only person she’s ever seen him smile at besides herself and Tommy. You feel blessed.) “Was wondering when you’d come say hi.”

“You could have done it,” you tease, your fingers playing at the collar of his jacket.

“Now where’s the fun in that?”

You grin brightly. “C’mon, Mr. Miller. I want to dance.”

Joel’s dark eyes narrow. “I don’t dance, honey.”

“I’ll show you how,” you reply. You’re not taking ‘no’ for an answer. You slip your hand down his arm a little and tug him upright. “Let’s go show Ellie and Dina how it’s done.”

He hesitates, but slowly, he follows you as you lead him out, your fingers around the meat of his palm. Ellie meets you, then looks at Joel, her own softer brown eyes shining.

They’ve been fighting more. You assume it’s the normal teenage thing; Ellie is sixteen now, making friends, falling in love, discovering herself — you remember what it was like with your own parents when you were her age.

But there’s still love in both of their faces, regardless of disagreements. It’s undeniable.

Joel nods, just slightly, to his daughter as Ellie does the same. They’re so alike, you think.

The music changes to something slower, easier, and Dina immediately wraps her arms around Ellie, who looks shocked for only a split second before easing right into it. There’s another glance at Joel, who finally offers a real smile, and they’re off, spinning into the night.

You slip your hands up and lock your wrists behind Joel’s neck as his broad hands fall to your waist. He doesn’t need any guidance, it turns out — he’s got an easy, natural rhythm and you keep in time with his movements without a thought.

“Feels weird being able to do this, doesn’t it?” you say softly.

Joel looks into your eyes. “A little.” He glances towards Ellie and Dina before meeting your gaze again. “I’m glad she gets to have it, though.”

“What about you?”

He shrugs, his fingers pressing a little harder into your body.

“I’m glad you get to have it,” you offer instead. “I think maybe… You need this kind of normalcy.”

“Don’t know if I deserve it, though.”

Joel’s always like this. Believes his past defines who he should be now; even though he’s never gone into too much detail, you’re willing to believe he didn’t do anything worse than most of the people living in Jackson now.

“We all deserve this, Joel.” You catch your fingers in the curls over his collar. “Even you.”

The music swells and in turn, he spins you slightly, making you giggle. For the moment, he’s completely focused on you — not Ellie and Dina, not Tommy and Maria who have joined in a few feet away.

Just you.

“You’re too kind to me, honey.”

You shake your head. “No, I think I’m just the right amount.”

Joel’s lips curve again, and he pulls you just a bit tighter against him. You take the opportunity and rest your cheek against his heart, listening to the strong, steady beat as he sways you around. You don’t miss the wink from Tommy as you pass by, or the way Ellie’s eyes shimmer as she swings past you.

You’ve always liked the Miller family, and it seems like the feeling is mutual.

You’re even more sure of it when Joel’s got you pressed against the front of his house, his lips on your throat and his hands under the hem of your shirt.

“Get a fuckin’ room!”

Ellie’s laugh echoes across the front yard as you feel your face get hot. Joel, on the other hand, simply laughs into your skin and his fingers press a little harder against your spine.

“Should we take her up on that offer?”

[roughdaysandart]

Rough Day Comic 0-1 "Other Talents"

💗PLEASE REBLOG TO SUPPORT!💗

SERIES MASTERLIST

Based on Rough Day by @no-droids

SERIES GEN WARNINGS: non-canon typical gore/blood, violence, light language, implied nudity, implied trauma (Blood, depression, anxiety, bullying, sexual), typos and general lore errors possible (plz lmk if you find any I enjoy accuracy)

See end for bonus content and credits.

LISTEN TO THE ACCOMPANYING MUSIC FOR A CINEMATIC EXPERIENCE! (LINKED AS YOU GO)

TRACK 1: REPROGRAM (only track til end credits)

END CREDITS TRACK: A FRIEND -GUITAR COVER

Up Next: CH 0-2: "Rules and Habits"

"And yet, only when she was absolutely certain he wouldn't see ...shed let that nagging curiosity get the better of her, make an exception...and-"

AUTHORS NOTE:

Well, this is the moment we've all been waiting for, sickos! I'm so proud of what Ive learned and been to accomplish these past few weeks (digital-art and writing in general), and have so much gratitude for all of the wonderful people who have followed along and encouraged me thus far. Most of all, thank you to the wonderful @no-droids for creating the fic in the first place. I cant wait to continue posting what's in store these next few (probably) years.

Thanks so much for reading! I hope you'll consider checking out my homepage for updates, sneek peeks, more depravity, the star wars mega-pinterest boards, and the unofficial soundtrack! 💗

Next chapter coming.....whenever its ready...in-person school is aboutta start and im going to pace myself and figure out how to balance going in person for the first time in a year...workin' and well...life, which includes this depravity and you all 💗!!!

Cheers, Sweet Girls. 💗

-M (@roughdaysandart)

CREATOR CREDITS

Credit to @saradika-graphics for the amazing dividers!

Credit to all of the talented artists making covers of the songs I link!

Credit to Brittany Broski for introducing me to RD/Ao3 this late in my life

Credit to...anyone else my mushy brain forgot (lmk ya'll)

credit to my drug-induced psychosis?

ERRORS/DISCREPENCIES/INNACURACIES (feel free to add)

Sweet Girl was drawn on the cover before her design was finalized, and so her clothing as well as her body are not exactly the same as how she appears in the series.

On page 5, Din is supposed to be laying in the cockpit's main compartment listening to the closed door, not in the mini hall where the ladder resides.

on page 9, there is a spelling error (talens--> talents)

On page 12, the rendering of the Crest's hull is a bit too wide (most dramatically apparent by the fresher door's length), the hull should be a tad more narrow. In addition, the flooring coloring is somewhat inaccurate, needing to appear more metallic instead of similar to the roofing textures and colorings

On page 12, the handle of the fresher door is supposed to be on the left side, not the right.

Speaking of the handle: I understand that manual doors are somewhat uncommon in the SWU, and it would be inconsistent for the Crest to have one when the cockpit and cot doors are auto, but I wanted to stay consistent with the descriptions in the original fic. In chapter 2, SG is described to slide open the door with her hand as she sees Mando standing outside. But I didint want to just purley stick to the fic's details and ignore in-universe discrepancies, so i thought of how this somewhat odd/niche detail could still make sense in this setting. I figured that with the inclusion of a control panel within the fresher (seen in later chapters) in addition to the one bewteen it and the cot, the option of an automatic function would presumably still be available aside from the manual one (which could be there for the purpose of giving the user a speed or distance preference or to avoid pinching etc.)

on the page beginning with "to say the least", the mini-halls' roof is suppposed to have a window. Therefore, the lighting of the space is somewhat innacurate.

[jamdoughnutmagician]

Teenage Dreams (13 going on 30 AU) - part 1

Eddie Munson x Reader

Being 13 sucked, all the cliques and groups in school, fighting for popularity and all you wanted to be was 30, flirty and thriving, just like the cool girls in Star Magazine.

Next Part ->

Word Count:2,763.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Masterlist // Eddie Munson Masterlist

*dividers by @saradika-graphics

Thirteen, what a terribly awkward age for anyone to be. Never quite sure about where you were supposed to fit in. All the popular girls would pour over the latest gossip magazine, nattering about which heart-throb of the month they thought was hotter. You couldn’t help but overhear the shrill giggling about how far they’d gone with their boyfriends, with a scandalised scream from the group when Stacy Evans revealed how she had made out with her boyfriend at Jessie Miller’s party last week. The boys weren’t much better either, all hanging out in their groups, guffawing and joking, rating seemingly every girl in the cafeteria on a scale of one to ten.

And you weren’t an exception to this, no. As you carefully weave your way through the bustling school’s cafeteria, balancing your tray in your arms you catch the attention of Jason Carver, the most bone-headed of all the boys, but he was a promising young talent in the school’s basketball team, so he got away with a lot of the stuff he did and said, with nothing more than a light warning breezing past him.

“Nice Hello Kitty shirt, did your mommy pick that out for you?” comes Jason’s shouted remark, high-fiving his crew when they laughed at his joke.

“Hey, Carver, leave her alone! All you care about is throwing balls into laundry baskets anyway!” and there was Eddie, your best friend in the whole world, always at your side through thick and thin. He slings a friendly arm over your shoulder as he walks with you to your usual seats. “How’s it feel to be turning the big one-three, you’re officially a teenager now!” He laughs playfully.

“Don’t remind me!” you squeal back, shoving his shoulder with a laugh of your own.

As you walk with him to your seats, you are once again stopped in your tracks, confronted by Nancy Wheeler, the school’s resident popular girl and her small army of followers who went with her everywhere.

“Hey, bestie can I talk to you for a moment?” she narrows her eyes towards Eddie “Y’know, just us girls.”

“Alright, I can take the hint, Wheeler. I’ll catch up with you later, okay?” Eddie smiles before walking off.

“The girls and I were so excited about coming to your birthday party tonight, and I told Steve Harrington about it and he said he wanted to come with us,” Nancy started, twirling a dark, bouncy curl around her finger.

“Really?”

“Yeah, but Mrs.O’Donnell is up our ass about this group project, and Steve said he would help us out, so I guess nobody is going to be able to make it, which is a shame, because we really all wanted to come.” she says with a tilt of her head and an almost pleading look in her blue eyes.

“I could write your report for you.” you offer.

“Fabulous!” she cheers, her pink lip gloss glinting under the fluorescent lights “Then I’ll see you at your party I guess.” She smiles, and with that, Nancy is gone, her gaggle of girls following closely behind her.

Eddie walks beside you as you make your way home, your backpack slouching down your shoulders with every step.

“Y’know I can’t believe you invited Nancy and her army of girls to your party tonight.” Eddie grumbles

“They’re my friends!” you defend.

“Nancy and her clones are not your friends, okay?”

“Well not yet anyway, but they’re so popular and I just think if I could get them to like me, maybe I could hang out with them.” you explain. “I mean it’s middle school, right? And not being popular is like, total social suicide.”

“I thought you didn’t care about that stuff! Why would you even want to hang out with them in the first place? You’re way cooler than them. They’re always so concerned about following “the latest trends”, they’re all so unoriginal!”

“I don’t want to be original, Eddie, I want to be cool!” you whine.

Eddie shakes his head at you dismissively, before reaching into his pocket.

“Want some skittles?” he asks, pulling out the brightly coloured packet.

“Skittles are for kids, Eddie.” you scoff with a laugh before holding your hand open to him.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” he smiles, dumping a handful of skittles into your palm. “I’ll see you at your party later, birthday girl.” 

You wrap your arms around him in a hug, saying your goodbyes,  before going your separate ways.

You fluff your hair in the mirror, swiping on a sparkly layer of strawberry pink lip gloss and adding the finishing touches to your baby blue eyeshadow. The electric sound of Van Halen’s ‘Jump’ stream through the tape player in your bedroom, it was a mixtape Eddie had put together for you for your birthday last year full of all the songs that he knew you liked plus a few more that he thought you might enjoy.

You turn yourself around in the mirror one final time, smoothing down the wrinkles on your flouncy pink party dress with your hands before putting down your lip gloss on your cluttered vanity table when you hear your mother knocking at your bedroom door.

“Honey! Can I come in?” she calls out.

You offer her a grumble of affirmation and she swings her way into your room.

“There’s my little birthday girl!” she squeals, pinching your cheeks.

You pull away from her, groaning with embarrassment.

“Mom! Stop teasing me, I’m not a little girl anymore, okay! I’ve got to look perfect if I want to get in with Nancy and her friends!”

“Oh, darling, you don’t need to worry about stuff like that. Just because you don’t look like the girls in Star Magazine, doesn’t mean that you’re not beautiful in your own way.”

“But I don’t wanna be beautiful in my own way!” you whine. “I wanna be like these girls.” you say, pointing to the beautiful, fashion model in the magazine spread out on your bed. They seemed to have it all figured out, always looking so effortlessly beautiful and carefree, without the stress of teen angst looming over them at all times. Thirty, flirty and thriving, the article had read, and that’s what you wanted. To be a flirty thirty-year-old without a care in the world.

“Sweetie, there’s a reason you don’t look like these girls, they’re models.” comes your mother’s response.

“I want to be thirty.” you pout.

Your mother hugs you close, placing a kiss to your forehead.

“You’ll get there one day, but until then, you’re my beautiful thirteen-year-old daughter.”

You’re alone in the basement of your house where it’s been decorated to within an inch of it’s life, brightly coloured streamers hang from the ceiling and a sparkly ‘happy birthday’ banner is plastered to the wall.

Michael Jackson’s ‘Thriller’ music video plays from the small tv in the corner of the room, and you can’t help but join in with the familiar dance. When the music video first came out, you and Eddie had spent ages learning the routine religiously, it was one of the few songs that you both liked, the music being fun and funky enough for your tastes, whilst the music video was the right amount of creepy and spooky to capture Eddie’s attention.

You get lost in the music, the dance moves so ingrained in your brain that they come second nature to you, so much so that you fail to hear the creaking footsteps as Eddie descends his way down the steps to the basement.

“Happy Birthday!” he shouts, carrying a large pink box in his arms all neatly tied up with a sparkly bow. “I’ve got you a special present!”

“Oh my god, Eddie!”  you beam. “You know you didn’t have to get me anything!”

“And come to my best friend’s birthday party empty-handed, come on, you know that’s not my style.” he smirks as he sets down the box on the table. 

“What is it?” you look at him eagerly.

“Well it’s your birthday present, why don’t you go ahead and open it up and find out?”

You pull at the ribbon bow and lift open the box to reveal a carefully hand-built princess castle dollhouse. It’s carefully made with lots of little cardboard boxes stuck together, painted a soft baby pink, complete with hand-painted twirling vine flowers climbing up the spiral towers. Inside the walls are lined with lavender paper and colourful candy wrappers in place of stained glass windows.

“Remember, how you said you wanted the Barbie princess castle for your birthday last year? Well I wanted to give you something better than Barbie’s castle, and give you your own castle.” he smiles. “Look, and there you are, the birthday princess in her castle!” he smiles, nodding towards the miniature princess figurine, painted to look exactly like you in the mock-up throne room. “It was a D&D miniature I had been saving for this exact moment!”

“Oh Eddie this is beautiful!” you bubble, this was the sweetest thing that anybody had ever done for you.

“Wait! I almost forgot the best bit!” he smirks, reaching into his pocket to pull out another miniature D&D figure. “Can’t have a princess castle without a knight in shining armour to protect it now, can you?” It was a small knight, painted to look like Eddie, with his long dark curls, holding up a sword and a shield. “Thought you might need me to help protect you and your castle from those pesky dragons.”

You marvel at the amount of thought, care and attention to detail that Eddie had put into your present, your smile beaming across your face.

“And for the finishing touch, just a sprinkle of wishing dust!” he says, sprinkling a small amount of iridescent silver glitter over the castle.

“Wishing dust?” 

“Yeah, wishing dust knows what’s in your heart of hearts, your true desires and will make all your dreams come true.”

You and Eddie have a moment of peace, before the doorbell sounds out across the house.

“Oh they’re here!” you squeak, rushing around to tidy up as best as you can before letting Nancy in. “I’m just going to put this away for a moment, just so there’s room for everyone here.” you say picking up Eddie’s hand-made castle and putting it in the broom closet.  “Put on some music, please Eddie!”

You make your way to the front door, quickly smoothing your hands down your party dress before opening the door to Nancy and her gang of girls.

“Come on in, the party’s downstairs.” you smile, gesturing for everyone to make their way into your house. One by one all the girls follow Nancy inside, everybody shedding their jackets and dumping them into your arms as they go.

Just as you were about to close the door, Steve Harrington rolls up, with his friends Tommy and Billy trailing closely behind him. He was so cute, way more popular than you’ll ever be, but it never stopped you having a crush on him. He was the boy that all the girls wanted, with his head full of soft, shiny, bouncy hair and charming smile, it wasn’t hard to see why he had all the girls falling at his feet. The most popular guy in school, and he was coming to your birthday party. 

“Hey, Steve!” you wave him in, trying to play it cool. “The party's just getting started, come on in!”

Downstairs everyone was gathered together, and Eddie had put on his music, a noisy mix of screeching guitar strings and heavy drum beats. I suppose in leaving him in charge of the music, he was bound to play a little Metallica.

Although, however much Eddie was rocking out to Master Of Puppets, everyone else turned their nose up at his music choices. Particularly Nancy, who took it upon herself to wander over to the stereo, flick the switch off and eject the tape from the player, filling the room with immediate silence.

“You know, it’s only you who actually likes this music, freak.” Nancy sneers, pushing the tape into Eddie’s hands.

“Whatever,” Eddie shakes his head, making his way over to you “I’m going to head next door, go get my guitar, okay?” 

“Do whatever you want, Eddie. It’s not like I need a play-by-play of everything.” you tell him, in an effort to look cool in front of Nancy and her friends, which earns you a tittering giggle from the group.

“See you later, loser!” comes a whining laugh from one of Nancy’s friends as Eddie walks away.

“Hey, I have an idea of how we could spice up this party!” Nancy pipes up, flouncing across the room. “We could play Seven Minutes in heaven!” 

Everyone nods, a murmur of agreement sounding.

“..And since you’re the birthday girl, it’s only fitting that you go first.” she smirks, taking her satin scarf from around her neck and tying around your eyes as a blindfold, before walking you towards the open door of the broom closet. “You just go in there, and we’ll choose some lucky guy to follow you in, and then he gets to do whatever he wants with you for seven whole minutes. I know Steve is dying to spend some one-on-one time with you” comes her bubblegum sweet voice in your ear.

Nancy steers you into the closet, her hands on your shoulders.

“Before I forget, you did write my project report for Mrs. O'Donnell's class, right?” she asks.

“Yeah it’s on the table.” you nod.

“Thanks. Remember, keep that blindfold on and no peeking! Oh! And by the way, Steve’s big on going to second base.”

Nancy quietly locks the closet door, leaving you stuck inside waiting for your perfect first kiss with Steve Harrington.

Nancy and her gaggle of girls, along with Steve, Billy and Tommy make their way out of your basement, walking back up the stairs, passing Eddie as he comes back down.

“What’s going on?” Eddie asks, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

“She’s waiting for you in that closet over there!” and with that Nancy leaves, quickly dashing from the party in favour of something more her scene.

Eddie shakes his head, Nancy had been bitchy enough to think that it was funny to leave you locked up in the cramped space of the broom-closet. He unlocks the door to see you sitting on the floor of the cramped up space, with the scarf tied around your eyes.

“I thought you weren’t going to come.” you say softly, thinking that finally you were going to get the chance to kiss Steve Harrington. “Where are you? I can’t feel you.” your soft voice comes out as you reach your hands out to find your man of mystery.

Eddie quietly allows himself the moment to reach his hand out to yours, letting his fingers interlock with yours.

“Oh Steve, I knew you were worth waiting for.” you sigh dreamily.

“Sorry to burst your bubble” Eddie laughs uncomfortably.

“Eddie?! What are you doing here?” you gasp, pulling the blindfold from your eyes. “Where’s Steve? Where’s everybody gone?” 

“They all left!” 

“What did you do?” you ask accusatorily.

“I didn’t do anything! I just went to get my guitar, and when I came back everyone was leaving!” Eddie defends.

You feel the red hot flare of embarrassment eating away in the pit of your stomach. Embarrassed that Nancy would actually want to be your friend, embarrassed that someone like Steve would actually go for a girl like you, but most of all upset at the fact that in reality, nobody wanted to come to your birthday party.

“No, get out!” you cry, pushing Eddie away from you.

“Wait! Please just let me talk to you! Please!” he pleads, but it all falls on deaf ears as you sink back into the closet, closing the door, leaving you to sit with your emotions.

“Leave me alone Eddie! I hate you, I hate me, I hate everybody!” you cry out shrinking into yourself, bringing your knees up to your chest, and slumping your head in your folded arms, letting your frustrated tears fall freely.

“I want to be thirty!” you cry out. “I wish I was thirty, flirty and thriving!”

A glistening sparkle washes over you, as you hug yourself tighter, wishing so hard that all of this was just a bad dream, that you were going to wake up from this and be living your dream life.

Thirty, flirty and thriving.

@paybacksawitch @penguinsandpotterheads @ali-r3n @aphrogeneias @eddiesxangel @mrsjellymunson @munsonology @onegirlmanytales @xxbimbobunnyxx

[cheeseceli]

Just like now

Pairing: yeonjun × Gn!reader

Genre: fluff, short drabble, sort of friends to lovers

Description: yeonjun thought he could endure being just friends with you, but a rainy night showed him that he might've been wrong

A/n: I love to write epiphany with literally no dialogue, it's healing

Playing now just like now, by xeed

It felt like a loop. This endless cycle of looking at your eyes, feeling so much love that he thought his heart wouldn't be able to handle it and then not saying anything. Yeonjun was stuck in this limbo, and he hated it.

He was not shy, not at all. He was known as the biggest flirter in his group of friends, for God's sake. And still, every time he tried to confess to you, he'd become a blushing mess and end up saying something that was completely unrelated to what he wanted to say at first.

For a while he thought it was okay. He couldn't bring himself to ask you out but at least you could see each other as friends. He wasn't brave enough to kiss you but at least you would still hug him at times. He still had you, just not in the way he wanted. But that was okay. Until tonight.

Tonight you were both looking at the night sky after running away from a boring party. Yeonjun had offered you his jacket and God, you looked so beautiful with his clothes covering your shoulders. You were sitting close enough to almost lean on each other, but none of you did it because that would be too intimate, wouldn't it? The stars were reflected in your eyes and he wished so much to just come closer to you. But he couldn't. Because you were just friends. And suddenly that wasn't okay anymore.

He wanted to stop time. He wanted to be with you, that way, forever. Because this moment was so precious to him. But he'd wake up tomorrow morning and he wouldn't have this moment anymore. He'd just have a memory. That could be good, if it wasn't for the fact that he'd probably never live it again. Because you were just friends.

As if the weather could feel the debate inside Yeonjun's head, it started to pour. Just like that the raindrops washed his thoughts away. Or maybe you did.

You were chuckling, looking above as if the rain didn't bother you in the slightest. You looked so beautiful. He wished his forever could be just like now. Comforting, happy, light. With you.

And then you looked at him. Water was running down your face and there was a huge chance your clothes would be drenched by the end of the night. But you were smiling.

That was enough for Yeonjun to want to break the cycle. He didn't want to shy away and live another day with you in his memory only. If there was any chance that you felt the same, he was ready to go for it.

When he locked eyes with you, you didn't avert your gaze. When he moved closer, you didn't move away. And when he finally kissed you, you didn't stop smiling.

Perhaps he was creating a memory that he could live again later. Perhaps he was allowing himself to live just like now forever. And so did you.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

[joelalorian]

Fall Into Me - Chapter Ten: I'd give you my life from now 'til forever

dbf!joel x f!reader | WC: 4,103 | E 18+ mdni

Series 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.

Chapter Tags/Warnings: Explicit, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. Lots of feelings. Joel is his own warning. Morning oral (f! and m! receiving). Angst/despair - I'm sorry, but this was planned from the beginning. Please excuse my lack of medical knowledge. 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.).

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!

Moodboard by the lovely @mrsmando. Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

Chapter Nine | Main Masterlist

The soft rays of the morning sun filtered through a break in the blackout curtains, casting a warm glow across the otherwise dark room. You slowly woke up, momentarily disoriented as you took in the surroundings. The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air, mingling with the comforting aroma of Joel’s particular scent – that heady combination of fresh cut wood, hints of his lingering bodywash, and masculine musk. You turned your head and saw Joel sleeping peacefully beside you, his features relaxed in the early light, making him look almost boyish as curls flopped over his forehead.

For a moment, you simply watched him, your heart swelling with a mix of emotions—gratitude, excitement, and a hint of nervousness. The reality of your new life together settled in, bringing with it a sense of both promises and unknown challenges.

The coffee scent floating up the stairs called to you, but you remained in bed, scooting closer to Joel. You needed to do something special to celebrate your first morning as an official resident of the Miller household. Your hand crept beneath the covers, fingertips tracing down Joel’s bare chest and belly in a barely-there touch. They danced along the waistband of his boxer briefs, gliding over the front of the material to tease his morning wood.

Your touches light and soft, Joel didn’t waken, leaving you feeling emboldened. Slipping his hardened length through the hidden opening in his underwear, you savored the velvety soft skin of his hard cock. You glanced at Joel’s face to find his eyes still closed, breathing steady. Subtly shifting down the bed, you ducked under the covers to swipe the bead of pre-cum from the head with your tongue.

Clocking the hitch in his breath, you paused before wrapping your lips around him, sucking his cock into your mouth. You worked him with long, slow movements, taking him as deep as you could without choking, your tongue licking along the prominent vein on the underside of his cock. When your teeth scraped lightly over the bulbous head, Joel groaned.

“Oh, shit.” The blanket lifted with a flick of his wrist, exposing the sight of you sucking his cock to his dark, sleepy gaze. “What are you doing down there, darlin’?”

You audibly popped his cock from your mouth without breaking eye contact, grinning up at him. “Just showing what you what living with me is like,” you teased before ducking your head back down to finish what you started.

“Have I died and gone to heaven?” Joel gasped, hips bucking with the sensations running through him. “You’re gonna have me comin’ in seconds, darlin’. Fuck.”

Hearing how close to the edge he was, you got a little sloppy, taking him impossibly further down your throat, nearly gagging as you slurped at his hardened length. Hollowing your cheeks, you damn near sucked his soul out and Joel came, hard, a flood of cum filling your mouth in near endless spurts. Joel’s hands buried themselves in your hair, holding you down on his cock until he finished.

You sat up, tossing the covers back, and watched Joel’s chest heave as you wiped away an errant drop of cum from your lips with one finger. You smiled lovingly at the satisfied man laying before you, heart overflowing with love and utter want for a life with him. You leaned forward to place your finger at his lips, offering up a little taste of himself. When Joel sucked your finger into his mouth, you quickly replaced it with your lips.

Before you even knew what happened, Joel flipped you onto your back. The broadness of him engulfed you, mouth on yours as one of his hands wandered down to slip beneath the hem of your panties. He had you purring within seconds with confident flicks of a thick finger on your clit. Too soon, Joel slipped down your body to replace his finger with his mouth. You briefly mourned the loss of his mouth against yours, but his tongue worked its magic, teasing you until you were nothing but a puddle of pleasure under his control. An orgasm crashed over you within minutes as he sucked at your clit and lapped up your juices.

Boneless and deliciously satisfied, you watched with hazy eyes as he crawled back up your body and captured your lips in a kiss. Tasting the heady mix of you and him combined, you pulled him closer, slipping your tongue into his mouth to tangle with his. The kiss left you both breathless.

“I love you,” Joel whispered against your lips before peppering your face with tender kisses. “I’m so happy you moved in, darlin’.

“Me, too. I love you, Joel. This just feels so…” you couldn’t find the right word to describe how perfect it all was, being here, with him, starting this next step in your lives together.

“I know, I feel it, too,” Joel confirmed with a warm smile, his baby cow eyes gazing at you in that way that made you melt.

The two of you stayed cuddled in bed for a little longer before deciding it was time to start the day. Joel hopped in the shower as you headed downstairs. You made your way to the kitchen, where the fresh pot of coffee greeted you thanks to the preset timer. A smile crept onto your face as you noticed the note Joel had left on the counter next to the coffeemaker, written in his familiar print.

Good morning, darlin’. Welcome home.

The simplicity of the message touched you deeply, a small gesture that encapsulated the warmth and acceptance you felt in his presence. You poured yourself a cup of coffee, savoring the quiet moments of the morning before Joel and Sarah joined you.

As you sat at the kitchen table, your mind wandered to the events that had led you here. The decision to move in together had been both exhilarating and daunting. Blending your lives was a big step, but it felt right. Joel and Sarah had welcomed you with open arms, and you were determined to make this new chapter as seamless as possible.

The sound of footsteps brought you back to the present. You looked up to see Joel, his hair damp from the shower and a broad grin on his face.

“Morning,” he greeted with a laugh, as if you didn’t wake him up in the best way possible a mere half hour ago.

“Morning,” you snickered, tilting your head back for a kiss.

When he sat next to you with his own cup of coffee in hand, you couldn’t contain the happiness bubbling up within you. “I love you, Joel. So much.”

He squeezed your hand gently, pulling your chair closer so he could kiss you again. “I love you more, darlin’. You bein’ here, movin’ in with us, makes our circle complete.”

Just then, the sound of Sarah’s footsteps echoed down the stairs, breaking the tranquility of the morning in a pleasant way. She appeared in the doorway, rubbing her eyes and looking adorably disheveled.

“Morning,” she mumbled, making her way to the table. She stopped next to her usual chair for a beat before stepping past it to slide into Joel’s lap. You smiled at her, one hand reaching out to smooth over her wild curls.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” you greeted, pouring her a glass of orange juice.

As the three of you sat together, sharing the first of many breakfasts in your new home, you felt a profound sense of belonging. And so, the first morning of your new life together began, with the promise of many more to come.

The rest of the school year passed in a blur. Settling into life with the Millers proved easier than you ever imagined. Waking up next to Joel every morning became your favorite part of the day, followed by climbing into bed next to him each night.

Sarah flourished under your care, thriving with the attention and guidance that came with you as a mother figure. She constantly peppered you with questions, always asking for your opinion on a matter even if she already talked to Joel about it. You wondered how you got so lucky to have such a wonderful child in your life, especially when she gave you a homemade card for Mother’s Day, bringing you to tears. I can’t wait to call you Mom, the message read in Sarah’s little print, her handwriting so much like her father’s, just messier. You cried on Joel’s shoulder for an hour after the little girl bounced out of the room, Joel’s eyes shining with tears of his own.

You finally introduced Joel to your best friend. Emily charmed him just as much as she was charmed by him. Her husband hit it right off with Joel, and Tommy, too, and double dates quickly became a thing you all tried to do monthly.

Things weren’t always perfect, though. This was real life, after all. Things went sideways sometimes – small grievances, mostly, often relating to miscommunications or long, stressful days at work as you all adapted to sharing your lives together. You and Joel had a rule though – always talk it out and never go to bed mad. It worked well for the both of you, and without even realizing it, you were setting an example for Sarah on what healthy, loving relationships should look like.

You never knew it could be like this, not really. There was such beauty in this life you shared with them, even in the imperfections, that it was as close to perfect as it ever could be. That’s why it was so devastating when this wonderful new life you all built together nearly came crashing down the last day of school.

“Enjoy your summer everyone! Don’t let everything you learned this year leak out your ears!” you called as the final bell of the day rang for the last time until August. Watching the last of the sixth graders pile out of your classroom, you sunk down in your chair.

A whirlwind. That was the only suitable word to describe your first teaching experience. Equal parts exhausted and exhilarated, you longed for the summer break to last forever yet couldn’t wait to return next school year.

Knowing how excited Sarah would be to get the summer started, you submitted the final grades and packed your things. You’d come back next week to finish out any leftover tasks. The young girl bounced into the room just as you slid the chair under the desk.

“Hey nugget!” you greeted. “All set to start summer vacation?”

“Hi!” Sarah waved excitedly. “Yes! Can we get ice cream on the way home?”

This girl and her sweet tooth. She looked at you with those big eyes, dark and soft just like her dad’s, knowing you couldn’t say no.

“Twist my arm, why dontcha,” you teased. Wrapping an arm around Sarah’s shoulders, you led her from the room and down the hallway. Wishing a few of your colleagues a relaxing summer, you and Sarah made your way through the front doors and down the stairs to your car.

“Ok, ice cream time!”

Sarah beamed at you, chattering away excitedly about which flavor she wanted as you drove out of the parking lot. The ice cream place she wanted to go to was conveniently on the way home and you turned left onto the main street through town. The traffic light jut ahead was green and you drove into the intersection without thought, your eyes scanning for a parking spot just ahead on the right.

You never saw the pickup truck swerve around cars as it approached the intersection, blowing the red light at speed. One second, you’re driving along with Sarah chatting away, debating whether she should get chocolate peanut butter or cookie dough ice cream. The next second, the deafening, grinding sound of metal on metal hit your ears the same time your body jolted roughly, airbag deployed in your face crunching your nose. Screams echoed through the car, though you weren’t sure if they were from you or Sarah. Most likely both.

The truck hit the driver’s side of your car with such force that it rolled over sideways, twice, tossing your bodies around. Disoriented and dizzy, you tried to look at Sarah, to calm her screams as the car tumbled, but everything happened so quick. You barely registered the sharp pricks of broken glass in your skin as the windows and windshield gave away. You lost consciousness as the car slid to a stop on its roof.

Joel tore through the hospital doors, straight to the emergency room, his heart pounding so loud in his chest it echoed in his ears and threatened to burst straight through his ribcage. Tommy raced behind him, on the phone with JB to let him know what happened. Joel never thought he’d get a call like this. He couldn’t even drive, his entire body shaking after he answered the call from the hospital. He almost thought it some awful joke, but the hospital official insisted it was real. Tommy had to reach into the front pocket of Joel’s jeans for the keys, ushering his big brother into the truck before hurrying to the hospital.

Already familiar with this particular ER, after one too many construction-related injuries to his crew or himself over the years, Joel rushed through the halls without bothering to check in. Tommy stopped to get their visitor passes, calling out the rooms Sarah and you were supposed to be in before Joel turned a corner out of sight.

His heart was torn between who to check on first – you or Sarah – but he knew you’d want him to check on Sarah first. Joel could practically hear your sweet voice in his head, telling him not to be ridiculous, to obviously go to Sarah. It almost made him smile. Instead, it crushed his soul, reminding him that he didn’t know when the next time he’d hear your voice might be.

Skidding to a stop in front of Room 5, Joel couldn’t hold back the tears that sprang to his eyes at the sight of his baby girl lying battered in the too-large hospital bed, an IV attached to her little arm. He watched from the doorway, unable to move further for long moments as he took in the contusions on her sweet little face and along her arms, her right wrist in a cast. Heart in his throat, Joel only moved when Tommy appeared behind him.

“JB’s on his way. He’s at a job site in the next town over, so he’ll be a while. Have you checked on her yet?” Joel never heard Tommy speak so softly, so seriously. It made things seem so much worse. Tommy rarely took things seriously, so it must be bad. Still, it propelled him forward.

Finally stepping into Sarah’s room, Joel shook his head. He tried to speak, but the words stuck in his throat. His heart thudded painfully in his chest, stealing his breath as he drew closer to Sarah’s side. The little girl appeared to be sleeping, and Joel hoped that was the case and not that she was unconscious, but logically, he knew the truth just by the significant bruising on her sweet, little face.

Tommy’s hand gripped Joel’s shoulder when he dropped to his knees next to his daughter, a broken sob fighting its way through the knot in his chest. “Baby girl,” he murmured, stroking one large hand over her head, red-rimmed eyes scanning for more injuries.

“Imma go check on your girl, ok? Just stay here. Sarah needs you,” Tommy said, his voice sounding like he was talking underwater to Joel’s ears. Seeing his brother fall apart, Tommy hesitated. Was it smart to leave him like this? He’d never seen Joel like that, so broken, but someone needed to be there for you while Joel was here for Sarah, at least until your dad got there. With one last worried glance at his brother, Tommy left.

Arriving at the room he was told you’d be in, just a few doors down from Sarah’s, Tommy found it empty, too much blood puddled and smeared on the floor, and discarded medical gloves scattered around it all. His heart plummeted. “No. No, no, no, no!” He started to panic, thinking it meant the worst possible outcome. How would he tell Joel? Or your dad? Or worse still, little Sarah? It would destroy them. Would they ever recover from such a loss?

Turning his back on the room, Tommy slammed one fist against the corridor wall, the other held to his mouth as his teeth sunk into the flesh of his fingers to prevent himself from shouting. Tears sprung to his eyes that had nothing to do with the self-inflicted pain in his hands. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t tell them that you were…

“Can I help you?” A nurse passing by stopped at the sight of him bent over, gasping for breath, fighting back any further emotional outburst. “Are you ok?”

Nodding, Tommy stood to full height and blinked rapidly to clear his vision. God, he couldn’t even remember the last time he cried and now he suddenly felt like he’d never stop.

“Are you looking for someone?” the nurse pressed.

He pointed wordlessly over his shoulder to the room, hand shaking as he caught sight of the blood again when his head turned. The nurse caught on quick, placing a comforting hand on Tommy’s back.

“Oh! No. No, it’s not what you think,” she reassured, saying your full name. “She’s in rough shape, lost a lot of blood as you can see, so they brought her right into surgery. We’re just waiting on the environmental staff to clean up the room. If you take a seat in the waiting room, we’ll give you an update on her condition as soon as we can.”

“Oh, thank fucking God!” Tommy gasped, relief washing over him in a wave. “I thought she died and started to panic over how I would tell my brother or her dad.”

“She’s not out of the woods yet, but she should be ok. The finest surgical team is working on your friend.” Flashing an empathetic smile, the nurse gently led him toward the waiting room, but he stopped once they reached Sarah’s room.

“My niece is in here. I think I’ll wait in here for now if that’s ok. You’ll make sure to keep us posted, right?” Tommy entered the room once the nurse nodded. Joel remained in the same place, hand smoothing over Sarah’s hair in a gentle, rhythmic motion as the tears streamed down his face, soaking the sheets next to her left arm. Tommy felt his heart shatter watching his brother, the tiny shards piercing his chest with visceral pain.

“She’s in surgery,” Tommy choked on the words. “She lost a lot of blood.”

Joel turned devastated, watery eyes on him, but before either of them could say another word, a police officer walked into the room. “Mr. Miller?” the young officer inquired, Tommy and Joel both nodded and he cleared his throat. “Uh, Joel Miller?”

At that, Joel stood, wiping away the tears with a rough swipe of his hand. “That’s me,” he said, voice rough and scratchy.

“Ok. Could we have a word in private, sir?” The officer glanced between Joel and Tommy, uncertain.

Joel cleared his throat heavily. “This is my brother, Tommy. He can hear whatever you have to say.”

“Alright, sir. I’m Officer Grant, the responding officer to the accident. I just wanted to meet with you to gather some information.”

Joel’s expression darkened, brows pulling together. “What kinda information?”

Officer Grant shuffled closer with hesitant steps, pulling a notepad from a small pocket on the front his vest. “Just the usual. We’re trying to confirm witness statements and make sure we have all the facts about the accident, sir. Let’s start with the basics. Sarah Miller is your daughter?”

“Yes,” Joel grunted with annoyance. He stepped back to Sarah’s side, pulling a chair over to sit close to her.

“Were you aware that your daughter was in the car with a Miss, uh…” Officer Grant glanced down at his notes, stating your name.

“Yes.”

The officer gulped. “Ok, I just had to confirm it wasn’t a kidnapping situation.”

“Uh huh.” Quickly losing his patience, Joel glanced at Tommy for help.

“Could you, uh, tell us how the accident happened? No one’s told us anything other than there was one,” Tommy interjected.

“Oh.” Officer Grant’s eyes shifted between Joel, Tommy, and Sarah’s prone form on the bed. “Shit. I’m sorry, I should have started with that rather than interrogating you.”

“Damn straight,” Joel mumbled under his breath.

“A drunk driver failed to stop at a traffic light and hit the car your daughter and, uh—”

“Girlfriend,” Tommy interjected at the dark look on his brother’s face. “It’s his girlfriend, soon to be fiancé, we hope.”

“If she fucking survives,” Joel sighed, tears springing to his eyes again.

Grimacing, the officer continued. “The driver struck their car as they proceeded through the intersection, causing it to roll twice.”

“Fuck,” Tommy breathed with a glance at his unconscious niece. “I’m guessing the drunk driver hit the driver’s side of their car, just based on Sarah’s injuries?”

“That’s correct.”

Tommy nodded, watching Joel out of the corner of his eye. His head hung low, shoulders shaking as he fought off the sobs.

“Did you get the guy, at least?” Joel asked without looking up, his voice breaking on every other word. He was a wreck, on the verge of a panic attack.

“Yes, sir. We got him. His blood alcohol level was three times the legal limit,” Officer Grant admitted. “He’s in lockup now. He won’t get out of this one.”

After a prolonged period of silence, the only sounds in the room a mix of beeps from the machines monitoring Sarah’s stats and Joel’s sniffles, Officer Grant excused himself. Tommy took a seat in the remaining chair across from the foot of Sarah’s bed. Out of his depth, he had no idea what to do or say to his brother.

A nurse just finished checking Sarah’s vitals, letting them know more details about her injuries, when JB walked in. “Oh, nugget,” he said mournfully at the sight of his favorite little girl, and he moved to Joel’s side to place a comforting hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “How’s she doing?”

Joel’s shoulders lifted with the sheer effort of trying to breathe. “She has a concussion and hasn’t regained consciousness yet. Scrapes and bruises, but no broken bones aside from her wrist, thankfully.”

JB nodded, the hand still on Joel’s shoulder squeezed once, twice. “She’s young and strong, son. Our little nugget will heal quickly, I promise.”

Joel could do little more than nod, his eyes glued to his little girl’s face, praying she’d wake up soon. He wanted so badly to believe your dad, to trust in what he promised, but…

“Any word on Spud? They told me at the nurse’s station that she’s still in surgery, but they couldn’t tell me anything else.” JB’s voice became choked with tears at the end, emotion taking over at the thought of his own baby girl being so severely injured.

Shaking his head, Joel could barely get the words out. “We haven’t heard anything either. We haven’t even seen her yet.” He paused for a minute before lifting his head to look up at JB, bottom lip wobbling. “What if…”

“No, son. Don’t say it. Don’t think it,” JB warned, pulling Joel to his feet despite their size difference. He placed his hands on Joel’s shoulders, jostling them a little to get Joel to meet his gaze. Two sets of teary, bloodshot eyes stared at each other. “My baby girl is strong, just like yours. She’s a fighter. She won’t leave you, us. She would never, not if she could help it.”

“I don’t know if I’d survive if she did, JB,” Joel said, his voice so small and broken. He practically collapsed against JB, forcing the older man to support him as he cried openly against JB’s shoulder.

Even Tommy couldn’t fight the tears threatening to slip down his cheeks as JB pulled Joel into the tightest hug, the two fathers clinging to each other in a mix of despair and hope as they worried about their little girls.

tbc

I'm sorry. if it's any consolation, I brought tears to my own eyes writing this.

Taglist: @mellymbee @untamedheart81 @anoverwhelmingdin @runningmom94 @leilanixx

@pedropascalfan221 @lovelyjess69 @sarahhxx03 @sofiparallel @tammythr

@lulawantmula @islacharlotte @allyourfavesinoneblog @lover-of-books-and-tea @pedropascalsbbg

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[javierssunglasses]

Late Nights, Early Mornings

Pairings: Joel Miller x Reader

WC: ~500

Warnings: a lil hint of smut, reader is described as having hands smaller than Joel’s but no physical descriptions otherwise

AN: I was possessed to write this at after working a week of overnight shifts at 6am. This is the first thing I've written and actually finished in months. Also tysm to @janaispunk and @planet-marz1 for help with titles. Divider by @saradika-graphics 💕

Joel had a love hate relationship with late nights where you went to bed before him.

His favorite time of day was spent in bed with you winding down for the day. Toying with your hands, dwarfed by his own, as you told him about your day. Sharing his own in return, knowing you were clueless when it came to his job, though you tried your best to keep up with the different contracts. He’d relish in the feeling of your hands working through the curls of his hair while you read. Eventually working you up just to spend the night tangled in each other. These moments in bed with you were sacred to him and he hated missing out.

As much as he hated it, there was an upside. Every so often a job would run way later into the night than he’d intended. He’d come home exhausted wanting nothing more than to climb into bed with you. And it would be the same every time. He’d come home always to the porch light left on, to an otherwise dark and quiet house. He’d make his way to the bedroom as quietly as his heavy work boots would take him. There he would find you curled up in bed, wearing nothing but one of his shirts, softly snoring. A sight that never failed to melt all of the tension that had built up throughout the day. He’d strip and slide into bed, careful not to disturb you. The first few times he’d worried he’d woken you. But every time, without fail, as the bed shifted underneath you, you’d roll over wrapping your arms around his midsection. You’d pull yourself to him, pressing your chest against his back. Then almost immediately the gentle snores would return. Each time before he let himself drift off in your arms he’d bring your hand to his lips placing a few chaste kisses, snuggling into your grip.

You always woke before him. Normally coffee would be your first priority as you desperately tried to jumpstart on the day. Neither of you had ever been good at mornings. But after late nights you’d linger in bed waiting for Joel to wake up. It was a much needed slower start to the day for both of you.

He loved waking up to you still curled up next to him. In hushed whispers you’d fill him in on the night before. But his real favorite were the mornings, after he’d snuck into bed late the night before, where he’d wake to soft kisses and nips trailing down to his thighs. To you tugging at his cock, wrapping your mouth around him, and sleepily working him until he saw stars. It was never long until he’d flip you beneath him pounding into you and lazily toying with your clit until your were a writhing mess beneath him. Nothing beat those mornings.

He’d always profusely apologize about how late he’d gotten back and promise to try harder to get home at a reasonable time. You’d smile and tell him that it would happen again next week, but you love him, and didn’t mind the late nights. After all, it gave you an excuse to spend more time in bed with him.

While Joel hated being kept away by long jobs with late nights he loved the time it gave him with you more than anything in the world.

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Masterlist✨ A03

Hi! I’m Jamie and welcome to my blog! If you’d like updates for my work, my updates page is @mermaidgirl30-updates. I mostly write about Pedro Pascal characters. Always looking to converse about music, writing, video games, Pedro Pascal, really just anything ☺️ I am always open for requests and asks and will do my best to answer them 🩵 Dividers and Masterlist main pic by @saradika-graphics

~I DO NOT CONSENT TO ANYBODY USING MY STORIES OR REPOSTING THEM IN ANY AI OR ANY OTHER WEBSITE!~

✨One Shots/Drabbles✨

Always In My Heart: Losing a pet is never easy, but you’re not alone because Joel is right there with you, keeping you afloat.

Caught In the Act: Thinking you’re home alone, you decide to unwind in bed, but the last thing you expect is to have Joel Miller, the man you’re renting a room from, find you naked in bed.

Clouded Skies Drabble

Comfort in His Arms: A little Drabble about enjoying the sunrise while you’re being comforted and held by Joel. Soft, gentle, warm. He’s your forever.

Crimson Ties: Joel was a creature of the night, a monster who begged to be released from his curse. He wasn’t a good man, didn’t think he deserved anything that shined light on his dark soul. But there was you, the girl he so desperately wanted to stick around, if only for one more night.

Dominate Me: dom! reader x sub! Joel. You dominate Joel in the bedroom, and he takes every demand you give him.

Fading Into Lilac Skies: You never meant to fall for your boyfriend’s dad, but it happened. You just couldn’t stay away from those shades of blue and grey. But your favorite thing was turning them the color your soul was. Lilac.

Happy One Year, Baby: You forget your one year anniversary with Joel and don’t remember until you see a dozen roses with a love note left on your doorstep. Since he’s away on a work trip, you decide to get all dolled up to give him a little show over FaceTime

Haunt Me: Joel isn’t all that he seems. He might be dead, might be a ghost, might somehow just be trapped in a curse, but you find him. You always find him.

Her Bodyguard, His Shining Star: You’re performing at Coachella, throwing winks and flirting with your eyes as Joel Miller watches you from the side of the stage. He’s your bodyguard, and he should know better, but he wants you just as much as you want him.

I’ve Got You, Baby Girl: After suffering all day alone with cramps, Joel comes home from work to take care of you and gives you exactly what you need.

Jealousy, Jealousy: After having a bad breakup with Joel Miller, you decide you need a night to relax at the bar and find someone new. Little do you know, Joel is there and he’s not alone. Will you let your jealousy get the best of you or will you get revenge with another man at the bar?

Love and Coffee in the Mornings: This one's just a short fluffy/smutty one shot that's filled with morning love between Joel and reader.

My Heart I Surrender: Feelings and words never come easy to Joel, but they come out slowly and surely for you. So much angst coming off the pages on this story, and it's all in Joel's POV.

My Paper Heart Will Fold: Joel fights himself over his feelings for you, not wanting to admit they’re there. He finally comes to blatant terms that he can’t lose you. He can’t ever lose you. Not ever.

My, My, Such a Sweet Surprise: When you stumble upon a cute little property with a farmer’s market, you get more than you bargain for when you meet the man with honeysuckle eyes and a thick Southern drawl that makes you weak in the knees.

Pulled by the Scarlet Reins: In the hate filled town of Salem, no one is safe. With accusations flying daily, no one is spared from speculation. When the blame is pointed at you, who will be there to defend you?

Run Rabbit: At the beginning of every month, you meet Joel to play a little game of hide and seek at the abandoned mansion near Jackson. It’s not just any game of hide and seek though. It’s dark and it’s twisted. If he catches you, he gets to do whatever he wants with you.

Show Some Self Control: It's your birthday, and Joel can't deny you from wanting to explore being with another woman, so he indulges. He sits and watches, but he can't hold back for long. Not with the way your body is writhing against the damp sheets.

Soft: Just a little Drabble about Joel being in love. So very soft.

Stay in the Light: Joel gets injured after a raider attack, and he’s wishing he could’ve told you all the feelings he held back from you for so long

Take Me to Wonderland: You find yourself in Wonderland, but you think you’ve been here before. And the handsome stranger, Joel Miller, is someone that definitely seems familiar.

Teach Me a Lesson, Mr. Miller: Tonight, you planned for beer, loud music, and sloppy sex with one of your hot college classmates. Instead, you get your best friend’s dad putting you in your place.

Tongue Tied: Your dad’s best friend, Joel Miller, finds you in the kitchen eating some cherries. For your birthday, he gives you something that’ll make you a little tongue tied.

Welcome to the Moulin Rouge: Welcome to the Moulin Rouge where touches and gazing eyes turn to feelings and longing that overpower all senses. That’s where Joel meets you, the girl of all his desires. The girl that starts a fire inside him that he can’t control. But he’s not the only one after her. No. And he’ll have to share even though it destroys him.

✨Series✨

Can You Please Be Mine?: (Ongoing multiple part series)

No Outbreak!Joel x fem! reader

It’s a hot summer’s day in Austin, and you’re cooling off by having a cold ice cream cone while riding the carousel at the fair. You see a handsome, older man that you think is just the hottest man you’ve ever seen, and you just wonder what it’d be like if he took you home with him.

Captured in the Woods:

(Ongoing multiple part series)

Joel Miller x fem! reader

Joel books a nice secluded Airbnb cabin out in the middle of Southwest Texas to get a little alone time with you for a weekend. Little do you know, you’re not alone. You’re being stalked by a deranged family, and you’re going to have to fight your way to make it out alive.

Crimson Tango: A Dance of Diamonds and Revenge: (Ongoing multiple part series)

Moulin Rouge Joel x fem! reader

Joel Miller doesn’t know what awaits him as he takes on a maintenance job at the Moulin Rouge. He doesn’t know he’ll meet the absolute love of his life, the Sparkling Diamond, as his world comes crashing down around him fast. Will he be able to stay away when he’s warned not to touch the dancers? Will he listen or will he challenge that pull that draws him to the one thing that sets his soul on fire?

Daddy’s Best Friend, Mr. Miller: (Ongoing multiple part series)

dbf! Joel x fem! reader

After going out with your classmate from graduate school, Mr. Miller doesn’t take so kindly to your date when he sees you out and about with the college jock. Will the older, attractive man you’ve been pining after for years finally give you what you’ve been wanting for so long? The only problem is that he’s your dad’s best friend.

Dancing With Fire: (Ongoing multiple part series)

maintenance man! Joel x ballet dancer fem! reader

You’re starring in the ballet Swan Lake, taking on the lead role in New York at a huge theater. You practice day and night and are always staying after hours. One day you notice the hot maintenance worker, Joel, and you can’t seem to keep your eyes off him. Lucky for you, he can’t keep his eyes off you either.

Dark Shades of Innocence Lost: (Completed)

pleasure dom! Joel x fem/sub! reader

After your friends drag you out to Club Inferno on a Friday night, you meet an unexpected man with dark brown eyes. That man is Joel Miller, who turns out to be the owner of the club. The menace that will turn your life upside down. After not dating for a couple of years, Joel finds out and strikes up a proposition for you. Keep coming back and he’ll make sure you experience pleasure like you’ve never felt before.

Deep Blue: (Ongoing multiple part series)

Diver! Joel Miller x marine biologist! FOC

Swimming with great white sharks was always on your bucket list. Now that you’ve graduated with your master’s degree in marine biology, that’s the only thing you want to do. Luckily your friend, Jenna, pulls some strings and gets you on a private shark diving tour. What she didn’t tell you was that your diving guide, Joel Miller, was going to be ridiculously hot. Will you survive the dive or will you end up falling for the man of your dreams?

Destined Hearts: (Ongoing multiple part series)

Joel Miller x fem! reader

After a messy break up with Joel, the two of you cross paths again unexpectedly at the lake. Everything seems to fall back into place, and you slowly start to fall back in love with him. Maybe he just might be your forever.

Enchant Me: (Ongoing multiple part series)

soft! Joel x witchy garden fem! reader

Joel delivers a custom built table to a little house out in the middle of the woods, but he doesn’t realize he’s going to fall for the girl behind the doors of that small purple house. He falls head over heels for her special herbal tea, tarot card readings, and talks of nature and plants as he keeps going back to see her.

Her Bodyguard, His Shining Star: (Ongoing multiple part series)

Bodyguard! Joel Miller x singer fem! reader

Joel’s your broad, handsome bodyguard that you flirt with and secretly dream about. Little do you know, he can’t seem to keep his eyes or his hands off you for long. The two of you should know better, but after Coachella it’s so obvious that you can’t stay away from one another. Could he be your end game?

Just Breathe: The Dinosaur Diaries: (Ongoing multiple part series)

paleontologist! Joel x fem researcher! reader

After going under the wings of doctor Miller, the hottest paleontologist you’ve ever seen, he takes you on a little adventure as his research assistant. You’ll get more than just knowledge and dinosaurs, you’ll also end up getting the sweet scientist who can’t seem to keep his hands off you.

Look for the Light: (Completed)

outbreak! Joel x fem! reader

Aly finds herself trying to escape the Boston QZ. What Aly doesn’t know is Tess is pairing her up with Joel to go on a dangerous mission to find Tommy. Will Aly survive the brooding, moody Joel or will she find herself falling hard for him?

Love Amidst the Blue: (Ongoing multiple part series)

sailor! Joel x mermaid fem! reader

Joel sets out on the Tyrrhenian Sea with his crew in search for hidden treasure. What he doesn’t know is that he’ll meet a beautiful mermaid that will turn his world upside down. Will he win her over or will he introduce a long ago foe to the mermaids of the hidden underwater city of Capri?

Royalty Clad in Silver Armor: (Ongoing multiple part series)

knight! Joel x princess fem! reader

You’re the royal princess of Ireland and your parents are hounding you to find a suitable man to marry. Joel gets placed as your protector (knight in shining armor) and swears an oath to put your life before his own. But after meeting him for the first time, you don’t want to leave him alone. In fact, you can’t help but to pine after him, even though he is off limits to you.

Saddle Me Up, Cowboy: (Ongoing Mini Series)

Cowboy! Joel Miller x fem! reader

One night at the country western bar was all it took for you to fall head over heels for the sweet cowboy that swept you off your feet. Little did you know, he may be what you’ve been after your entire life.

Saving What Was Lost: (Ongoing multiple part series)

You never expected to get auctioned off in a room full of filthy rich, vile men after being taken over a year ago, but it happened. And the man that buys you, the one with soft brown eyes, just might’ve saved your life. He doesn’t want to hurt you. No. He wants to show you what it’s like to fall back in love with life.

Slip Into Me: (Completed)

QZ! Joel x fem! reader

After getting caught by a FEDRA soldier in the QZ, a certain broad smuggler comes to your rescue. He’s not at all what you expect. He’s reserved, intense, and intimidating. But you soon find out he’s not all brick walls and harsh words like you thought. You just might be the one that tears down his walls and helps him see the light again in a torn up, infected world.

Somersaults and Stealing Hearts: (Ongoing multiple part series)

Coach! Joel Miller x gymnast fem! OFC

Being a competitive gymnast at UT Austin is nothing short of hard work and dedication, but winning Nationals is all I’ve ever wanted, so I stick out the long, grueling practices. When my favorite coach leaves for another job, just when I need her most, another coach has to fill in. And that coach ends up being Joel Miller. The tall, handsome man with pretty brown eyes that I just can’t seem to keep my eyes off. I won’t let an attractive man get me distracted from what I want, but what if I end up wanting him too?

Tear You Apart: (Completed)

Outbreak! Joel x fem! reader

Joel comes for you late at night. He always does. Always stalks, chases, and prowls after you like a starving wolf. And when he catches you, he devours you, feeds on you like the animal he is. Will you run and hide or will you give into the temptation that calls you into the forest?

✨One Shots✨

Guiding Light: You watch Marcus avenge himself week after week in the pit of the arena, but how much longer will it take to make you snap? How much longer can you go on watching when he’s the only man you want?

✨One Shots✨

Javi’s Playground: Javi decides to blow off some steam at the strip club, but he doesn’t intend to attempt to take one of the dancers home with him.

✨Moodboards✨

Colors 💜

Infra-Red ❤️