#this almost makes up for the girl who flirted with me for an entire hour before going 'you'd be exactly my type if i wasn't straight :)'

[eyesxxyou]

sweet revenge

・・・l. howlett x fem!reader

rating. m

word count. 1.3k

synopsis. after catching your boyfriend cheating, you and his father, Logan, go on a road trip to confront him, though, you don't make it far

warnings. p-in-v, tummy bulging, cheating (but as payback), DILF Logan, car sex, van sex, sex with boyfriend's father, cunilingus, kinda rushed :((

If someone told you you’d be trapped in a car with your neglectful boyfriend’s father for an entire weekend as you drive to meet him in Mexico a week ago, you would have stared at them blankly then told them that didn't sound so out of the ordinary for a life like yours.

It wasn't your idea, it was Logan's, your boyfriend's father. He insisted that you two would have to drive across the US together to confront your disgusting, cheating, asshole boyfriend who flew to Mexico to spend time with his mistress. He was almost as disgusted as you were, apologizing to you with explanations of how “he hadn't raised his boy like this”. How funny life is.

Logan, you always thought, was a good man. He had always been kind to you since you’ve known him, sometimes to the point where you thought he was flirting with you. Not that you minded, he was quite handsome, even for being in his 50s. With his salt and pepper beard and slight wrinkles that made him look mature and wise. You never minded his slight touches on your arm or your lower back but you never pursued the idea beyond a lingering thought.

“I’m slightly surprised you’re not crying.” Logan said about an hour into your ride together. You had been entirely silent, letting the radio play while you gazed longingly out of the window, your feet up on the dashboard. You rolled your head to the side to look at him. “I’m more angry than sad.” Or were you? You searched within the cavity of your chest for emotion and found nothing. You were so apathetic to the whole thing. Maybe it simply hasn't hit you yet, that your boyfriend of 3 years has been cheating on you for 2 of them with some girl he decided to vacation with in Mexico.

Logan stroked his fingers through his beard. “He’s a fucking idiot. His mother was a cheater too, I say he got it from her.” Your boyfriend was raised primarily by his mother after they had gotten divorced he had told you. He wasn't actually all that close with Logan. You had sussed out that it was because he didn't give special treatment between him and his sister, Laura. They were treated the same in every way by Logan while his mother always seemed to favor him.

“Thank you, Mr. Howlett for offering to bring me down here…really. It’s too kind of you.” You couldn't have possibly scrounge up enough money to haphazardly buy a plane ticket down to Cancun last minute. You would have had to wait for him to come back from his “business trip” to confront him. Logan thought it a better idea to do it as soon as possible.

He shrugged, a single hand on the wheel as his eyes flicked lightly from the road to you. “It’s nothing. He doesn't deserve a pretty girl like you.” Logan shook his head lightly. “Back in my day, I would have been all over a girl like you. Hell, I’d be all over you now if I’d met you at the right time.”

There's something deadly serious in his voice that suggests he was far from joking. All your delusional thoughts that maybe, just maybe, he was flirting with you turned out to not be delusions at all. He’s been dropping hints and you’d been turning a blind eye to them so willingly.

You’ve never been with a man his age. Something about it seemed so taboo. He was old enough to be your father. Yet the distinct feel of forbiddenness, both because of his age and because he was your boyfriend's father, excited you.

“Who says you can't be all over me now?” You’re being more bold than you’d have liked. You crossed your ankles on the dash. It would be the perfect revenge. When he goes low, you go lower—you go to Hell.

You let your hand wander to his thigh, your eyes lingering on him as he keeps glancing between you and the road. Logan chuckled lowly at you, your forward attempts at coming onto him were rather cute. “Oh baby, you don't know what you’re tryna get yourself into.” He’s trying to warn you but you like the edge to his tone.

You unbuckle your seatbelt and sit up in your seat to lean over and whisper into his ear. “Let me find out.” Maybe older men do it better, maybe they value things a little more. You were in the mood to find out.

You could see his jaw tighten as he slowed the car off the side of the road, gravel crunching under the tires. His fingers curled around the wheel, taut, knuckles white. “Why don't you get in the back?”

If someone told you you’d be in the back of a van, on you way to confront your cheating, sleazebag boyfriend, fucking his dad. That…that you’d bat an eye at.

It was a fast-paced endeavor. Logan had you in a mating press, pushed up against the back seats. Your pants and underwear at your knees, his pants just below his ass. He’s pounding you out in the back of a van, with thrust so hard and deep that it makes your eyes go cross. You beg, “please, please, puh-please!” like that will save you from the brutalization of your poor cunt.

Logan grunts above you, his hands gripping your thighs hard enough to leave bruises as he spreads them wide and keeps you still. “You wanted this, princess. Don’t back out now.” His strokes leave you winded, clawing at the cracked leather seat of his van, squealing like you have no damn sense in the world. “I can’t,” you gasp.

“Yes you can, doll. You can take it.” Fuck– he was using his father voice. Stern, authoritative, the kind of voice you can’t say no to. You could have come right then and there from his voice alone, cooing at your pretty pussy like a cat. He pressed his hips sharply into yours and watched your back arch away from the seats and your eyes prick with tears. “Logan!”

“You act like you’ve never been fucked before. Does my son not do a good job?”

You shook your head feverishly. “Never– ” you swallowed, “–like this.” Never made you cum for that matter. If you knew fucking your boyfriend's father would have been like this, you would have done this a whole lot sooner.

You could feel him in your stomach. You pressed your hand to your belly and felt the bulge of his cock under your skin. You whimpered at the feeling, tracing where his cock head poked through. You could feel him pressing against your tender womb.

You let Logan cum in you. It was easy to with a face like his. You let him sink himself deep inside, a guttural groan rattling out from his throat, satisfied as he emptied his balls inside you. You could help but giggle as he came in you. The thought of possibly having his baby didn't bother you as much as you thought it would. Logan was a good man, well, as good as one can be while fucking his son’s girlfriend.

Logan didn't want to leave you unsatisfied though you were more than used to it. He grabbed your hips and pulled you up, back arching as he dipped down and kissed your cum-soaked pussy. His tongue found your clit with ease, licking tenderly at the bud between your legs, eyes peering over your pelvis, looking down at you.

Your legs trembled over his shoulder, toes pointing with each rough lick against your puffy pussy. “‘s too much, too much.” His lips were latched to your lips, suckling.

Cumming on his tongue was an easy job. He made it so simple yet so powerful. You quivered under every lick, your body rolling with the waves of your orgasm. It was sweet, savory, like tender peaches on a warm, summer evening.

Who knew revenge could taste so sweet?

[honeyshiddendesire]

🤠Cowboys You Say?

Pairing: Zoro, Eustass, Sabo, Marco & Ace x fem!reader (separate or sharing doesn't affect the story)

*Old Note: Had a vacation out on 93 acres in the countryside and all I was thinking about…cowboys.*

Warnings: bondage! Dom/sub! Pet names! Praise & degradation! Vaginal penetration! Bimbofication! Rough sex! Spanking! Hair pulling! Yata yata smut lol y’all know I write nasty!breeding kink!

@votaeto @zorosdimples thought y’all might like this 

*New Author’s Note: Out of all the stories I thought I lost from my old account Honey’s World of Fanfiction THIS one was by far my favorite so to stumble upon it again makes me sooo freaking hype!!!! AHHH So excited!!!! Hope everyone still loves it just as much as me!! Don’t be alarmed I did fix some typos as well! Lol*

*cow banner*

Acres of land as far as the eye can see was before you. Majestic and overwhelming but it was now yours. Inherited from your late father, Edward, you had no choice but to return home to his prize. The ranch he loved second ONLY to you, too precious for you to just sell.

Patches of woods and forests littered with game even open fields for horses to run wild until tamed. There was a beautiful garden that stretched around the ranch, a pond with a family of ducks. A river with a strong current that only the toughest even dare swim in, flowing just along the ranch’s right side.

The terrain was intense but luckily your father made sure he left you with a great team to help you out.

*banner*

Lumberjack Ace 🪓who jumps out his pickup truck shirtless, drenched in a layer of sweat with an ax resting on his shoulder.

Lumberjack Ace 🪓 who was saddened and shocked at your father’s death but happy seeing his pretty daughter inherit the ranch.

Lumberjack Ace 🪓 who tips his hat and winks at you with a side smirk as he walks, “Mornin’ darlin’.”  The freckled face and cut abs flustering you immediately.

Lumberjack Ace 🪓 who pours a bucket of water over his head before taking the sweet tea you offered after hours of chopping firewood.

Lumberjack Ace 🪓 who cleans the chimney for you in your freakish city that gets snow storms mid summer. The grand line farmland a whirlwind of weather.

Lumberjack Ace 🪓 flirts the entire time with winks and smirks. “Don’t worry babydoll I’ll have this house as hot as you in no time.” Tossing the wood he chopped inside with a dramatic sigh.

Lumberjack Ace 🪓 who ax throws intruders wanting to harm you

Lumberjack Ace 🪓 who makes you wear his hat when you ride him cause you’re his pretty cowgirl princess. “Aren’t you just a spitfire?” His moans drawn out all nice and sweet for ya.

Lumberjack Ace 🪓 who fucks you hard against the trees he plans on chopping. Using you to see if they’re sturdy enough as your back rubs against the rough bark.

“Yeah pretty girl ya like that don’t ya?” He’ll ask as he nips at your bottom lip making you whimper, pussy clenching. His cock will destroy your insides as the harsh tree rubs your skin raw. “Want my seed deep in that cute lil pussy of yours? I bet you do baby girl. Take every drop alright darlin’.”

Fucking your cunt hard in the forest as your screams bounced off the tall trees making him grunt as he paints that pussy white. “That’s my pretty girl.” 🪓

🪓🪓🪓🪓🪓🪓🪓🪓🪓🪓🪓🪓🪓🪓🪓🪓🪓🪓🪓🪓

Doctor Marco 🩺 who rode in on a fucking horse with flowers in his hands to show his condolences.

Doctor Marco 🩺 who even studied animals in order to help your father when he stressed over his prized horse, Whitebeard, growing sick.

Doctor Marco 🩺 who made it a point to stop by everyday on his gorgeous marbled stallion, saying it was important for your mental health on such a secluded land.

Doctor Marco 🩺 who comes to your aid during the harsh heat when you almost had a heat stroke. “Wow there birdie~ can’t have you getting dehydrated on me.”

And !!

The treacherous winter when he finds you passed out in the house shaking still not used to a single fire heating up such a big house. “Sweet bird what would you do without me~” He’ll coo at you.

Doctor Marco 🩺  who sheds his clothes to warm you up the fastest way you can in the countryside. “Come here birdie I’ll keep you warm.” 

Cock plunging deep into your pussy to make you sweat. Your gasps and moans make him shiver, back arching off the bed as you claw at his skin. “D-doctor~ M-Marco ah~ you feels so warm.” You whimper as he leans over pushing his weight on his hands.

“I know dove~ let me keep taking good~ care of you. Make sure you stay nice and warm inside and out.” Marco’s thrust would be deep and really rough to make you sweaty and gasping. “I reckon I’ll have you feeling peachy in no time birdie.”

Doctor Marco 🩺 who even checks your gag reflex with his cock buried snug in your wet throat.

“Take a little more pretty thing.” Hand brushing your hair back with a gentle smile. Your eyes watery as you looked up at him in your pretty sundress soaked in your drool.

“There ya go dove doin just~ fine.” Marco would grunt out as he shallowly thrusts into your throat. Cumming deeply into your tight mouth making you moan softly at the taste. Semen dripping down the sides making you whine and even messier for his greedy eyes.

🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺

Horse Tamer Sabo 🐎 who picked the prettiest mustangs for your father.

Horse Tamer Sabo 🐎 who supplies all the best horses in town. Even trains them too.

Horse Tamer Sabo 🐎 who washes your horses and loves watching you braid their hair afterwards in different styles. “I think that's one of my favorites sweet pea.” He’ll say coming up behind you all close.

Horse Tamer Sabo 🐎 who holds you tightly when a horse passes because he too knows your pain of losing a stallion.

Horse Tamer Sabo 🐎 who gets to train ladies all week but still doesn’t get behind them for a lesson, opting for his own stallion but insists on doing it for you. Saying you need the best.

Horse Tamer Sabo 🐎 who teaches you to ride. Thick cock brushing up against you as he wraps his arms around you. Breath heavy from the close proximity, “Doing great doll~” Voice raspy after a long ride of his cock brushing against your pretty self.

Horse Tamer Sabo 🐎 who buys you matching gloves for riding saying they’re the best and they’ll last the longest because of the quality but it’s actually because he likes you matching.

Horse Tamer Sabo 🐎 who wins all the horse racing championships

“Looking good doll.” Sabo drew out as he leaned against the railing where you were sitting in the front row. All the other women were jealous, wanting his attention too.

“How’s about I take a pretty lady like you out to a fancy dinner and a nice ride?” He winks at the last part hinting at a night of mystery that you so said ‘yes’ to.

Horse Tamer Sabo 🐎 who also makes you wear his hat when you ride him cause that’s just what cowboys do.

Eyes rolling back as he tugged on the knots you were bound by, “Just like that sweet pea move’em nice and slow fa me.” Sabo groaned out, voice raspy making you whine.  Fat cockhead pushing past your cervix making you choke out moans.

“Ooooooowweee doll listen to you howl. Go head and cum on me ‘kay sweetheart.” Sabo’s cocky when he fucks his fat cock up into your dripping pussy. His blue hat bouncing with his powerful thrusts, pussy squirting making his ego grow more. “Now that’s a prize winning stallion! Fuck~!! I’m gonna have to breed you full after that ride.”

🐎🐎🐎🐎🐎🐎🐎🐎🐎🐎🐎🐎🐎🐎🐎🐎🐎🐎🐎🐎

Butcher Zoro! 🔪 Who brought you the biggest cow in the shop to show his condolences.

Butcher Zoro! 🔪 who still delivers fresh meats weekly even though you’re not sick like your father and very capable of doing it yourself.

Butcher Zoro! 🔪 who always offers to sharpen your kitchenware when he delivers the meats to ensure you the best.

Butcher Zoro! 🔪 who loves pulling up to you grilling or smoking some meats and seeing your proud smile when you used his ingredients. “Please Zoro! You just have to join me for dinner! I think you’re gonna love how the steaks turned out! It's a great cut.”

Butcher Zoro! 🔪 who can hog tie the fastest in the countryside. Seeing him wrangle up that boar with his cocky smirk made your thighs press together. Feeling like a sinner in church needing a sip of sweet tea with the way he wiped the sweat off his brow.

Butcher Zoro! 🔪 who always winks at you and tips his hat after winning the hog tying contest making everyone jealous.

Butcher Zoro! 🔪 who puts you in gorgeous knots and suspended ropes to stretch you out in.

“Dammit woman look at you suckin’ in this cock like a champion.” Zoro grunted as he watched his cock disappear down your sloppy throat. Spit and cum from an earlier load dripping all over your front. Pulling away he ripped your top open and latched his hungry mouth onto your breast. Your arms above you in ropes as you hung like a butchered pig ripe for his taking.

“Prettiest little piggy to ever be eaten by me, I tell you what.” Zoro smirked as he left mark after amazing mark all over your sweaty skin.

Tying your legs up and spread out so he can slide that fat ass cock all the way in with no interruptions. “Fuck yeah piggy lemme hear you squeal for this cock just butchering your insides.” He was definitely merciless in all the things he did but you weren’t about to complain.

🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪

Farmer Eustass 🤠 who still tends to your 100+ acres of land cause, “Ain’t no way in hell I’ll be able to sleep at night knowing a pretty lamb like you is doin all the work.”

Farmer Eustass 🤠 who calls you almost every farm/animal he can possibly think of.  Lamb, pig, mouse, bunny, chickie, calf, heifer,etc

Farmer Eustass 🤠 who comes to your aid whenever you need repairs around the house, but only does them shirtless.

Farmer Eustass 🤠 who drives the tracker shirtless in his overalls with a piece of straw in his mouth, hat tipped real low. Winking at you when you give him a cool glass of lemonade for his hard work plowing the fields, though you couldn’t help but desire that he was plowing something else.

“Thanks lil calf but I think I might wanna drink on somethin’ else you can gimme me. Maybe some milk?”

Farmer Eustass 🤠 who buys you the prettiest dresses and shoes cause he’ll be doin all the hard labor anyways.

Farmer Eustass 🤠 who gets handsy the fastest cause he can’t help but want to let out all his stress on you. Looking like a sweet lil belle that he wanted nothing more than to corrupt into his pretty bimbo after a long day.

Farmer Eustass 🤠 who’s a total stereotype. Wanting a beer and his dick sucked the second he steps foot in the door. Don’t worry he always returns the favor 😉

“Been thinkin’ bout these lips wrapped around my cock all damn day out on that field. Fuck~ that’s it chick, slobber all over me.”

Farmer Eustass 🤠 who roughly shoves your face in the hay as he fucks you ass up in the barn. Spanking you and pulling you back by your pigtails.

“Good fuckin’ calf. Letting me breed you full till you’re swollen wit my kids, tits drippin with milk for me.” Hips rocking into your cunt with a mission to fill you full. Stuffing your womb full of his children to run and play on the farm.“Fuck-my little cow being so good. Stay just like that babe.” Spanking you as he grabs both your pigtails in one large hand. “Sweet little heifer letting me breed her like she’s supposed ta wit outta fight. Come on moo for your owner baby.”  Voice raspy as he’ll grip your ass, fucking you hard on his heavy cock. Hay scratching into your face as you cream around his dick with a shaky scream. “Soundin’ so pretty when you get loud like that fa me.”

[character-babblings]

mdni 18+ only

Eggsy, my beloved, who is such a freak.

- Eggsy who if you didn't know better was a borderline porn star before his current occupation. and he's a quick learner. very. quick. he's eager to please.

-now sometimes that means you and only you. sometimes, when you've been a fucking brat that means him and him only. because he holds a strict no brat policy in place.

-but that goes out the window almost because -you're his pillow princess! how could he ever deny you?! but don't get me wrong he still puts you in your place

-absolutely blowing your back out in doggie while shoving your head into a pillow, absolutely seeing red because you teased him around his coworker/friends

he's got a hand on your hip and a hand on the back of your neck and he is just positioning into you you'll for sure be developing bruises on your hip shortly. your eyes are rolled back into your head as he's going. "you think you can be a little fucking tease like that and not get your pussy destroyed?! do you have no thoughts in that little dumb head of yours girl? or are you too busy fucking drooling about my cock?" he's growling as the hand on your hip slams on to your ass cheek and he is fighting back demons trying not to moan between the ripple of your ass jiggling or the way your pussy clenched when his hand made contact.

his mind is running at a million miles. he just has to see his pretty girls face. she was so beautiful when she came. it made him want to just fuck your pussy full of his cum. he'd give you anything in the entire world for that look everyday for the rest of his life. he's so obsessed with his gorgeous girl.

"fuck can i cum in your pussy sweet girl. i'll sort you out in the morning but i'm begging you. you're so warm and right." hes beginning to babble. your four rounds have finally pushed him over the edge. "Just fucking love you so much pretty girl."

how could you ever refuse?! you don't. and before too long he's shooting inside you to the point it's dripping outside your pretty cunt.

-we all know he's an ass man. he loves to smack, kiss, and bite your cheeks. fight me on this.

-it just jiggles so deliciously!!!!!! it's hypnotizing. that and how beautiful with how perfect your personality is?! he's for sure been looking at wedding rings lowkey.

-he absolutely adores how sweet you are to him. you're such a good girl sometimes. sometimes is key because sometimes you just have to play with the devil you know what i mean.

- and the devil he becomes!!!!!!! edging you for hours and making fun of you for it. mocking how just hours ago you were mouthing off to him or flirting with someone else.

making you sit on your knees in front of him as he holds out his drink for you to grab. you hold your hand flat as he set it in your hand.

"if so much as a single drop hit the floor. you're not going to cum for the day. got it love?". waiting for your nod he stands up to retrieve a toy. and this fucking dickhead uses the rose toy. "spread your legs. don't make me say it again." he warned.

you're toast.

other times he's tenderly making sweet love to you. full missionary or mating press. moaning in your ear about how beautiful you are as he holds your face. talking about how good you feel and how you just are the love of his life.

ugh. i love u eggsy

[macfrog]

ace sex on fire chapter six

this entire chapter is me making up for 1. the golfing line in chapter two, and 2. joel's entire experience of tlou2. naughty dog i'm waiting for ur response. 24 hours to reply

pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader

summary: joel takes you on a day trip to go golfing. it turns out to be more fun than you expected

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) golf. idk what else to say. age gap (reader is late 20s, joel late 40s), workplace relationship, imbalanced power dynamic, more sugardaddy!joel, discussions of pregnancy + reader perhaps not wanting children, sort of possessive!joel?, praise kink, unprotected piv car sex, daddy kink, exhibitionist fantasy, creampie, more teasing + flirting, angst + pining, alcohol consumption, cursing

word count: 9.7k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

“Good girl. He there?” The image of Daniel flits across your vision, bright blue eyes trained on you. He looks…intrigued, and stunned. He’s not breaking his stare. “Mhm,” you say again, and start to lift off of Joel. “He watching?” “Y-eah,” you choke out, bouncing steadily. “Put on a show for ‘im, pretty girl. Show him what you do for me.”

The cab squeaks to a halt right outside the office, dropping you at the bottom of the concrete steps leading up to the revolving door. There are already bodies filtering in and out of the building, despite how early it is.

You thank the driver – Mick, you’ve come to learn. He seems to run this route on weekday mornings; it’s always him who shows up at your apartment when you can’t be bothered to walk to work, or miss the damn bus. Mick tosses a thumbs up over his shoulder and you swing out into the brilliant sun.

It’s Thursday. You’ve been home sixty-five hours, by your count. Joel gave you a couple days after landing stateside to catch up on sleep, readjust. He’d gone back to work Tuesday morning, though, 8AM sharp. Martha had text to ask where you were, and had sent six laughing emojis back when you replied with, How the fuck is he back already?

You make the climb up the steps, back to work, back to normality. It drags like a weight at your heels, the thought of returning to that gray office after three days wandering around picture-perfect, painted-pink Paris. After three days of Joel.

That split-open feeling, the cavity between your ribs – it’s sewn itself up since you got back to your own apartment, your own space. Since you showered a couple times, washed your clothes, started smelling like yourself again instead of Joel. Its sutures are made from the sound of the subway squealing to a halt, the smell of Chinese takeout from the place across the street.

But there’s a tiny piece of you, small enough to stay hidden from even yourself sometimes, that you know misses it. Misses…him. It only hurts when you touch it – the sewn-up scar, messy in your frantic attempts to close it up – it aches when you remember his hands on your waist whenever you wanted them there, his lips below your ear whenever you needed him.

As you approach the glass doors, you hear a whistle from behind, and turn to watch Joel slip out of his Rolls and jog up the steps. There’s a sports bag hanging from his left hand.

“Am I a dog?” you ask when he reaches you.

“It was an endearin’ whistle.”

“Very endearing. Don’t do it again.”

He nods once. “Yes, ma’am. Feelin’ awake yet?”

“Almost.” You follow him into the building, clicking along the polished marble floor at his side. “You didn’t waste any time getting back into the swing of things, I hear.”

You both nod good morning to the receptionists, and Joel hits the button to call the elevator.

“I’m an important man, baby,” he says, shrugging. “My job ain’t just answerin’ the phone ‘n making coffee.”

You scoff, slapping his back as he leads you through the sliding doors, which closer over and shut you both into your first moment of privacy in almost seventy hours. Joel immediately turns to face you, words behind his eyes that he can’t seem to sort into a coherent sentence.

In what you hear as an attempt to summarize, he says: “Back to reality.”

You brush the shoulders of his blazer, tug on his tie to straighten it. It’s the most you can bring yourself to do that doesn’t involve throwing yourself at him. There’s a throbbing right below your chest, like a magnet tugging you towards the man stood in front of you. Touching the padded shoulder of his suit will have to do. For now.

You lift your eyebrows, staring at the knot of his tie. “Yep.”

It’s pretty reductive, Back to reality. But then, what else is there to say? What else that wasn’t said between your bodies in Paris? A line was crossed there – you both went somewhere you can’t come back from so easily. And moving forward the way you had been before, seems equally as impossible.

There are eyes on you here. There are people who care to know what might be going on – whether they like it or not doesn’t matter. No more strutting out onto the terrace, running your hands all over one another, connecting skin and tongue in ways you wouldn’t have dreamt up two weeks ago.

No. This stays secret. A secret between you, Joel, and the French skies.

Joel places a hand on the small of your back as the elevator doors whip open. He ushers you out, and then, once in view of Martha’s desk, sidesteps to an appropriate distance.

“Welcome back,” your colleague greets you as you approach her desk. “Missed you, kid.”

You smile coyly. “Thanks,” you mumble. Guilt isn’t the easiest of emotions to hide.

Joel taps your arm gently and then nods towards his office. “Catch-up,” he says, and Martha rounds her desk to follow after him.

You drop your jacket and purse over the back of your chair and slip in behind them, leaning back on one of Joel’s leather couches with your arms crossed.

“Alright,” Martha sighs, “few things needing done this morning. First…”

You take a deep breath and slump down until your ass sits comfortably on the couch cushion, your knees draped over the arm, cradled inside your elbows.

Joel notices, and smirks to himself. He dials into his voicemail, hits a button, and a familiar voice echoes from his desk.

“Hey, Joel,” Drew’s voice says, “hope you enjoyed Paris ‘n aren’t still too hungover. I know what Jean-Marc’s like…”

Martha moves to the next bullet point, tilting her pad and tapping the tip of her pen to some messy scrawling you can’t read. You nod, eyes flitting up to watch Joel.

“Just wanted to check in and make sure you’re still good for later. S’posed to be a good day for it. Let me know if you need any help with directions. Alright. Looking forward to seeing you two soon. Cool.”

The machine cuts. Joel sits back in his chair, rests his heels on the wood in front of him. Black, shiny, ridiculously expensive shoes crossed over on top of a black, shiny, ridiculously expensive desk.

“…now, Ken needs to receive this as soon as possible, alright? I said I’d have it done by end of day yesterday – I did not, so I need you to –”

“Who’s you two?” you ask Joel, peering over Martha’s notepad.

He looks up, tossing a rubber band ball in his hands. “You ‘n me, darlin’.”

“I’m sorry,” Martha declares, “am I talking to myself–?”

You push her notepad out of your view, still staring at Joel. “What do you mean, you ‘n me?”

Martha drops her hands with a sigh. You repeat your question.

“Us,” Joel says, hint of irritation in his voice like you’re supposed to be in on something. “We’re goin’ golfing with him.”

“We’re going golfing?”

Martha, now exasperated, swings the pad under her bicep and crosses her arms over her chest, makes something of a growling noise. “You two are unbeliev…Are you listening to me?” she demands, clicking her fingers in front of you.

“No,” you reply simply, eyes locked on Joel’s.

His lips curve with a soft laugh. “You ain’t read your emails?” he asks.

Your head darts between him and Martha. Bewildered. “I was catching up on sleep, thank you very much,” you assert, nodding with finality at the blonde updo hovering over you.

You know she cares about you – at least enough to water your monstera deliciosa while you were gone – but Martha can be sharp; her outspokenness is something to admire and to fear, in one small five-foot-three frame.

She snorts, glancing over to Joel with a disbelieving shake of her head, but he doesn’t take her up on it. Just looks at her blankly and then turns back to you.

“We’re meeting Drew up at Aspen Heights. Few of his buddies are in town, he wanted to introduce ‘em to me.”

“And I’m coming – why?”

“Because he met you last week, musta liked you, ‘n he invited you.”

Your mouth opens to reply, some retort to bring into question the need for your presence at a fucking round of golf, when Joel and his words cut yours short in your throat.

“And I want you there with me.”

Martha raises her eyebrows when you look up at her. The thing is: this all seems very normal, from her perspective. You did such a good job at keeping Joel right in Paris, didn’t you? He made his flight there on time, he met with Jean-Marc without a hitch, and he was actually an hour early for his flight home.

That last part was because you’d woken up with the sun and couldn’t get back to sleep, so you woke him, too and…well. Kept each other busy until you physically couldn’t anymore. There wasn’t much point hanging around in the hotel suite when your cases were packed and your bodies were…fragile, so you left for the airport.

To her ignorant eyes – and bless her – this is all just networking. It’s you building work relationships, Joel at the helm overseeing everything and setting it all up for you. This is clear – that that’s all she thinks – when she says:

“He’s doin’ you a favor, sweetheart. You should go.”

“I don’t even have any golfing gear. I’m in suit trousers.” Your eyes trail down your black pinstripe pants, legs dangling from the arm of the couch.

“And you look fantastic,” Joel quips, though you know he’s half-serious, “but you do gotta find somethin’ more…” he waves a hand, “…golf.”

“Something more golf. That’s helpful.”

“Here,” he says, stretching into his back pocket. His hips lift from the seat of his chair, and your eyes land on the space just south of his belt buckle. He pulls his credit card from his wallet – the same one you could probably recite the numbers of by heart at this point – and holds it out. “Go grab somethin’ nice. My treat.”

My treat. Like he didn’t treat you all damn weekend.

You pull yourself up and take the card from his fingers.

“’n what about my list?” Martha asks.

Joel shrugs. “Ken can wait one more day. You got two hours,” he tells you, and then sits up straight, rubber band ball placed safely next to his Newton’s cradle. “I’ll have Rand take you.”

You follow Martha out of Joel’s office when his phone starts ringing and his head falls into his hands, letting you both know it’s not a call you want to be around to hear. As he lifts the handset, he lightly calls your name, and you exchange a sly smirk as you slip out the door.

Martha wanders off behind her own desk as you pull your purse over your shoulder. She loads her computer back up, chin lifting as she squints through her glasses at the screen.

“There’s a golf shop downtown,” she tells you, two index fingers tapping away on the keys. “Alan uses ‘em. Don’t think they’re too expensive, either. Wouldn’t know for sure, though, he spends so damn much anytime he’s in there.”

You watch her for a moment, nodding along. “Thanks, Martha.”

She holds up a finger as you walk past her desk toward the elevator. “Remember you still got my to-do list to tackle, so don’t be long!”

----------

Rand drops you on a quiet side street. He gives you his number, tells you to text him once you’re done, and the sleek black car rolls off.

On the corner sits Ace’s Pro Golf, a small, charming store, peeling wooden front painted fern green with golf-themed decals decorating the windows. You set off inside, passing under two transparent putters crossed over one another on the window above the door. An old brass bell rings out from overhead when you enter.

Its exterior is misleading. This store is huge. Overwhelmingly huge. Walls stacked with bags, clubs dangling from pegs. Baskets of balls and tees and other accessories dotted all over the creaky wooden floors, which are lined with racks upon racks of golfing clothes – shirts, trousers, dresses, skirts.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, edging towards the rails.

You slip between them, hand running along the multicolored choices, when your phone starts to ring, vibrating somewhere deep in your purse.

“Hey, Mom,” you mutter, slipping your cell between your cheek and your shoulder as you begin to search through the shirts in front of you.

“Hey, baby,” her voice sings to you. “Wasn’t expecting to catch you, thought you’d already be at work. Where you at?”

You sigh. “I’m shopping. Joel’s taking me golfing later.”

She almost chokes down the line. “Golfing?”

“Yeah. It’s this friend he went to school with, I met him at lunch last week. There’s a few of ‘em going, so he asked me along, too.”

“Nice guy. So, you’re shopping for an outfit?”

“Mhm.”

“Any…dress code?”

“Dress code?” You straighten up, switching the phone to your other ear. “Like, golfing gear? I dunno.”

She laughs. “Alright.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing! Nothing, baby.”

“Meant something, Mom. Tell me.”

“No, I just…” She sighs. “You’re sure this isn’t, like…It sounds an awful lot like a date. Like, you’re going on Joel’s arm.”

You’re silent. You suck in a deep breath, fixing an order of words in reply, when your mom cuts in again.

“I bet I’m way off. Forget I said anything.”

“Yeah, gross,” you refute, metal hangers squealing against the rail when you unfreeze. “No. Not a date. It’s, like, networking, or whatever.”

Mom snorts. “Right. Exactly.”

“Not – a date,” you repeat.

You’re relieved when she changes the subject. “Show me what you’re looking at.”

You huff, pulling the phone down and switching to FaceTime. In a second, your mom’s bright, swollen cheeks and ringlet curled hair are on the screen, and she flashes you a pearly smile.

“Was thinking maybe this…?” You angle the phone to show her a navy-blue polo shirt. “And then a white skirt?”

“Nah,” she cuts, and you flip your camera back to your face.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Too blue. You look better in neutrals. Try beige or brown. Boring colors, y’know? Blend into the walls.”

You hiss something she doesn’t need to hear under your breath and then follow it up with a slightly more polite, “Screw you.”

Her image on your screen shakes violently with how hard she laughs at herself. “I’m messing with you. You know you’ll look beautiful no matter what you choose. Wait a second, though – can you even golf?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever touched a golf club in my life.”

“Thought as much. Does Joel know you’re about to embarrass him like this?”

“He’s aware.”

“Please get him to take some videos. I gotta see this.”

“You know what,” you grumble, holding back your own laughter now, “I’m hanging up. You just solidified your place in the nursing home, you know that?”

She’s still laughing, words pushing through her cackles in desperate punches. “Wait, wait! I gotta tell you why I called you.”

“Alright, go. Thirty seconds.”

“Riley’s pregnant.”

Your face screws up. Lips curl upside down into a grimace. “Oof. Good…good for her…?”

Your mom throws her head back with a roar of laughter. “Be more enthusiastic about it. A little niece or nephew for you!”

“’s more like a…second cousin, or whatever. I bet Aunt Rose is over the moon.”

“She called me screaming this morning. I just thought you’d like to hear, being that you’re in a permanent state of baby fever.”

“Ha,” you state, blank expression never changing. It causes her to erupt into another fit of giggles. “That’s nice, I guess. For Riley. Tell her I said congrats.”

“I will. And I’ll leave out the part where you almost threw up. Alright, I’ll let you go. Good luck golfing. Come back with a hot millionaire boyfriend, maybe! Love you!”

“Yep. ‘kay. Love you. Love you, too – ‘kay – bye – bye, Mom.”

You hang up mid-laugh and her caramel cheeks disappear from the screen. You drop your phone back into your purse and slot the navy-blue polo under your arm, spinning to the rail behind you to find a skirt to go with it.

Riley, pregnant. That’s fucking insane. You two used to spend entire summers riding your bikes around your hometown, spending all of your allowance down at the mall. You swear you’re not old enough to have babies yet. Swear you’re not even old enough to be out of Mom’s house, living on your own in the city.

But then here you are, five years in, making a mental note to buy a baby gift for your cousin, on top of the pre-existing ones reminding you to message that girl who lived across the street when you were kids to say, Congrats on your engagement, and pick up a new home card for your two friends who are on their third mortgage.

Your mom finds it funny – always has. The instant repulsion you feel, the way you recoil whenever you’re asked about kids, about a partner, about a three-bed-two-bath in the suburbs with a big yard and good school nearby.

You don't think any of it's for you. And that’s fine, and every time you skate over the topic, your mom tells you it’s fine. It’s fine. It’s –

“Can I help you, ma’am?”

“Oh,” you snap out of your daydream, clutching a white skirt in your hands, “sorry. I’m sorry. No, I’m good, thanks. Sorry.”

The assistant smiles kindly and nods. Then he spins on his heel and waltzes off, disappearing behind a cardboard cutout of a golfer mid-swing.

It’s not lost on you, by the way – what your mom said. Sounds an awful lot like a date. You’d be lying if you said it hadn’t also crossed your mind. Joel, wanting you there with him. Giving you his card to buy somethin’ nice, which, after the last week, you translate roughly as: something I’ll like. Something he’ll see, and his second thought will be ripping it off your body.

His first thought will be what you’d look like taking it off for him.

And for that reason, you slip the short skirt under your arm beside the polo, and head across the store to find some more stuff to waste Joel’s money on.

----------

Rand pulls up by the curb a few yards down from Ace’s, where you’re sat on a bench enjoying an ice cream. He rolls the window down and lowers his black sunglasses.

“You bein’ paid for this?” he asks, grinning.

You nod, gleeful. “By the hour. Want an ice cream?”

He snorts when you hold Joel’s black card up between two fingers, tilting it in the sunlight. And then he puts the car in park, climbs out, and jaunts over to the ice cream cart by your bench.

He orders a three-scoop cone, and you nod in approval when he sits down alongside you, unbuttoning his suit jacket.

“Respect it,” you say, cheersing your own half-finished cone against his.

----------

When you get back to work, Joel’s already changed into a crisp, clean golfing outfit. It weakens your knees a little when you saunter into his office.

A long-sleeved, dark polo shirt that shows off every curve and flex of his toned arms, paired with gray, just-tight-enough trousers. And pristine white shoes so sharp and clean you’d swear he’d had them polished just for the occasion.

You ignore the way your head lightens at the sight of him and throw yourself into the chair to his right, white back from Ace’s falling between your ankles.

“Alright, Tom, thanks for lettin’ me know,” he says, arms folded, sat back against his desk. He leans back, places the phone back in its cradle, and looks you up and down. “Have fun?”

You shrug, leaning forward to pick a piece of lint from his thigh. “Didn’t know what to get for the most part, so there’s probably stuff I don’t need in there.”

He squints down at his cell phone. “Like, uh…Duke’s Scoops?”

You stare back at him, mirroring his cheeky smirk. Your leg swings, arms cross over your chest, covering the way your breath falters. He’s seen the transactions.

“You gonna grudge me three dollars on an ice cream, Miller?”

“Six fifty,” he mutters, glancing down at his phone again to double check. His tongue runs across his top lip. You want to replace it with yours. “So…that’s at least two ice creams, pretty girl.”

“It’s a hot day. Rand deserved something to cool down. We sat on a bench in the shade ‘n had a nice chat. He taught me how to swing. Verbally,” you add, when Joel’s eyebrows lift.

“Taught you how to swing,” he echoes, and you nod.

“Did you know he used to compete? Junior league?”

He pouts his bottom lip. “Mighta come up in the, what, fifteen years since I met him?”

You beam in reply, standing up and hooking your fingers through the string handles of your shopping bag. “I’m gonna go get changed now.”

“Could just get changed in the car on the way, ‘s a thirty-minute drive.”

You lean in close, eyes flitting over to Martha’s desk to make sure she’s not watching. Your lips brush softly against his ear. “I don’t wanna take any time away from other stuff we could get up to,” you murmur, and Joel’s hand locks around yours, attempting to pull you back as you skip off.

“Be right back,” you call, letting the door fall shut on his suggestive smirk, his tight trousers, and the hard bulge beneath them.

You return five minutes later in your getup. Joel has much the same reaction as you did with him, though he’s not half as good at hiding it. He sits upright in his chair, fingers tight around the armrests.

“Uhuh,” he says, eyes diving to your legs and then resurfacing somewhere around your chest. “Let me just –” he leans over to his phone, “– call Drew, let ‘im know we ain’t comin’…”

“Shut up,” you scoff. “Looks good, though, right?”

Joel’s eyes are still trained on your bare thighs, one crossed over the other. “Looks…better than good.”

You bat your eyelashes. “Still mad about the ice cream?”

“No, ma’am. Not mad at all.”

He stands, slinging both his bag and yours over his shoulder, and walks around his desk to meet you. You give him one final warning.

“You know I’ve never played golf before, right?”

“I know,” he affirms.

“So…bringing me is kinda pointless. I am not gonna bring anything worthwhile.”

“You in that outfit,” Joel mutters – and as he passes by, he makes sure to brush his swollen crotch up against your ass – “makes it worthwhile already.”

----------

Aspen Heights is a hundred and fifty-acre course, vibrant green fairways rolling over hilly land laid out like crinkles in a sheet of green felt. Rand drives slowly up to the clubhouse, gravel crackling under the tires of the Rolls as you and Joel lean over to stare at the landscape – the unkempt, sprawling wild plants guarding the pristine course, the bunkers like giant splotches of white paint on the grass.

You turn back and look to Joel, brows knitting in an expression which could be translated as amazement, could be intrigue, or could simply be: What the fuck are we doing here?

He mirrors it, shaking his head. And it makes you laugh.

“What?” he asks, smiling.

“You could buy this place, easy. Don’t act like you don’t fit in.”

“If you think I fit in here,” he grunts, getting out of the now parked car, “you think very highly of me, angel.”

He doesn’t deny that he could afford to buy it.

The clubhouse is…much the same. Huge, grand, surrounded by a wide-open porch and fronted by a dome-shaped room, paneled by windows that reflect the scene before them.

You follow Joel’s lead, climbing the steps to the double doors by his side, staying close enough that he can guide you with a bump of his arm against yours, but far enough apart that it doesn’t look like you’re showing up together.

Inside, you follow two smartly-dressed attendants through to a room finished in dark oak, shining wooden floors under bare-bulb light figures, a solid marble bar in the center and six perfectly symmetrical high tables surrounding it.

You glance nervously around the room. Drew’s stood over by the windows with three other men – a tan guy with a white baseball cap on, fluorescent orange polo buttoned up to his neck, a shorter guy with tight black curls, fiddling with the cap of a bottle of water, and finally, a guy with dark hair combed within an inch of its life into perfect place, shoulders almost ripping through his blue polo. He looks like he’s been copy-pasted straight from a magazine called Golf Weekly, or something.

Joel takes one step across a patterned rug and Drew notices you both. He breaks off from the group.

“Hey, man.” He grins at Joel and leans over to shake his hand – well, it’s more of that slap-hand thing. They slap each other’s palms, fingers lock, one quick shake of the wrists together, and then a nod of the head. You know?

Then he leans over to you, kisses your cheek. “Sorry it’s just us guys,” he says, hand on your arm. He looks over to the three men by the window, now looking out over the course and pointing. “My girlfriend was supposed to be joining us, but she got called in to work. You two woulda gotten along, you ‘n Rach.”

You smile warmly. “That’s okay. Thanks for asking me.”

“You play much?” Drew asks, leading you both over to the windows.

You shake your head and Joel breathes a laugh.

“Total beginner,” you admit.

Drew bats a hand. “We’ll show you the ropes. This is, uh, this is Steve,” he points to Fluorescent Orange, “Caleb,” Water Bottle holds his hand out to shake yours, “and that’s Daniel.”

Up close, Daniel’s handsome. Sharp jawline, shadowed by the beginnings of stubble, a dimple in the center of his chin. He steps forward, holding a hand out, and you take it. His palm engulfs yours and squeezes – soft but sure. And then you pull away.

The men all nod to Joel, who probably nods back from behind you, and then catches you gently in his arm, cradling it around your back out of view of the others.

“We’ll be getting started soon,” Drew says, “they’re just fixing up a few buggies for us.”

Joel nods, lets go of you, and crosses his arms. You knot your hands awkwardly at your waist. He stays right by your side, though, which you’re grateful for. The last thing you need is another Jean-Marc, some cloaked assistant swooping you off away from the comfort of Joel.

“How’s business, Joel? Drew was tellin’ us about some deal you’re tryna nail.”

Daniel’s eyes are sharp, cerulean blue drilling deep into the warm brown of Joel’s, which calmly stare back. He looks a little younger than Joel, maybe on the cusp of forty, only a few light strands of grey through his deep brown fringe. There’s no wedding ring on his finger. You don’t know why you’re even looking at that.

Joel doesn’t reveal much in the way of answers. Typical of him – or typical of the Joel he is to the rest of the world. “Yeah, ‘s good. Just takin’ my time, we’re workin’ on it.”

Daniel nods, maybe a little too enthusiastically. He crosses his arms, biceps bulging, and then rounds on you.

“You gotta be run off your feet, chasing after him all day, huh?”

You tilt your head toward Joel. “He keeps me busy, yeah.”

Daniel leans into you, laughter crooning from his lips. It wobbles you a little, forces you one step nearer Joel’s side. You smile back, as pleasant as you can muster the courage, and he eventually leans away.

Before he can ask another question, Drew’s calling you all over to the sliding patio doors. Daniel hops back a step, nods to you, and says, “After you.”

“Thanks, Dan,” Joel cuts, stepping into the space the blue-eyed man had left specifically for you, sweeping you off as he goes.

----------

There isn’t anything about golf that intrigues you. Not even remotely. You’ve never watched it, never wanted to play it – the most you’ve dabbled in it is minigolf, and even that became a fucking bore after two anniversary dates in a row there with Blake.

Still, you watch patiently and politely as the men take their shots one by one, starting with Drew, all the way through to Daniel, who gives his driver a quick shine with a gloved hand before stepping up. On your left, Joel scoffs quietly to himself.

Daniel swings back, and his biceps swell under the tight sleeves of his shirt. You watch as his arms follow through, sending the ball hurtling through the air and well past its three predecessors.

Joel nudges your elbow.

“Ow,” you mumble, running a hand over the skin.

He gives you a perplexed look. “I said, you can use my clubs. You in there?”

“Yeah,” you reply, a little too defensively. “Just…paying attention.”

“Hm.”

The men on your right groan as Daniel strides back over to join them, a satisfied grin across his face. Your eyes trace him as he leans on his driver, one white pant leg crossing over the other.

When you turn back to the tee box, Joel’s lifting his own club from his bag. His broad, muscled shoulders flex under the dark material of his shirt; his tall figure walks over to the tee, delicate fingers dancing along the handle of the club, and he clears his throat.

And suddenly, the memory of Daniel and his stupid biceps is dust in the wind.

Joel takes, like, half a practice swing. Doesn’t even have to aim, not really. Just pulls his arms back, sucks his waist in, and goes for it.

His ball lands a couple meters ahead of Daniel’s. And you wonder when the fuck golf became this sexy.

He turns back and runs his tongue over his top lip, breathing a little heavy. The sight drives you fucking insane for the second time today. And then he’s smiling at you, jerking his head in a gesture for you to join him.

You step forward, a little shy, a little hot, and wander mutely over to him.

“I got you,” he says, and reaches for your wrist.

You move to take the driver from his hand and Joel clicks his teeth, shaking his head.

“Said I got you,” he utters, and pulls your body into his, shelling around you. His beard scratches lightly against your ear.

“Joel,” you whisper, laughing nervously and tossing a quick glance back over to the men standing just feet away. Drew just said something apparently hilarious. Caleb gives him a solid whack on the shoulder and doubles over laughing. Steve’s watching a butterfly float by.

“They ain’t watchin’,” Joel says, curving his arms around yours and fixing your hands on the handle of the club. “s just you ‘n me.”

You wriggle under his grasp and feel the hum of laughter from his chest between your shoulders, the weight of his belt riding on your ass. Your cheeks heat when his chin rests on your collarbone.

“Alright,” he says, hands tightening around your own. “You’re gonna line it up, stand with your legs a little apart, little more…”

The toe of his shoe taps your heel and you widen your stance.

“Good girl,” he whispers. A pulse shakes through your body. “Now, on your backswing, you’re gonna want your left shoulder under your chin, ‘n your hands above your right shoulder. Yeah?”

“Got it,” you mumble, so unconvincing that it makes you laugh after you’ve said it.

He gives your waist a tiny squeeze and steps back, watching as you carefully lift the club and curve it around your shoulders. You hear him from behind.

“’attagirl. Keep your knees bent, you got it.”

You take one good swing, and hit the ball on your first try, but it’s…it’s bad, for sure. It’s pretty terrible. The ball lands on this side of the fairway, muddled in amongst the longer grass of the rough. But it’s your first ever shot – least not with colored balls and spinning windmills in the way – and so when you turn back to Joel with a huge beam across your lips, your expression is reflected in his.

“Good job!” he chuckles, stalking back over to you.

“Good job,” you echo with a laugh, handing him the club. You twist and hold your hand up to shield your eyes, staring down the course. “Look where it is, ‘n look where yours are.”

He glances back over to where your sad little ball sits. “We’ll get a few drinks down those guys,” he whispers, hand on your back. “See how good they are in a few holes’ time.”

----------

You’re back in the clubhouse after finishing the eighteenth hole on something of a high. Joel managed to worsen the accuracy of your competitors only so much – your end of the deal was to improve as the round went on, which you try to argue you technically did, given that you began to land your shots on the fairway around hole seven, but your argument is let down by Joel’s reminder that, on hole thirteen, he had to dig your ball out of the bunker for you.

“And I am eternally grateful to you for agreeing to never fucking talk about it again,” you say through gritted teeth, and he laughs.

“Last time, promise.”

Drew joins the pair of you at your table and slaps an arm down on Joel’s shoulder.

“Your round, asshole.”

Joel grumbles, gives your elbow a cursory tap, and slides off to the bar. Drew takes his seat, nudges your arm.

“I am impressed,” he tells you, slurring his words a little.

“Yeah?” you ask, and he nods. “I didn’t think I was so good.”

“Oh,” he shakes his head, “you weren’t. I meant I’m impressed you stuck it out.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you hiss.

He snorts, head bobbing with the alcohol bubbling in his blood. “I’m kidding. You were great, for your first time. I’m really glad you came.”

“Me, too,” you admit.

Drew opens his mouth to say something else when a clatter from across the clubhouse interrupts him. You turn at the same time to see a waiter on his ass at the other side of the room. His metal tray rattles against the wooden floor, flutes smashed in a pool of champagne by his side.

“Oh, shoot,” Drew mumbles, setting his glass down on the table.

You push off your stool, sliding your drink alongside his, but he motions for you to stay.

“I got it,” he says, palm lightly tapping your wrist. “I got it.”

He shuffles off to the waiter, now being helped to his feet by Caleb. The last you see is Drew bending to grab the silver tray, before he’s swept out of your view by –

“Poor guy,” Daniel muses, fist locked tight around a lager. He pulls Joel’s stool out and slips onto the cushion, elbow brushing against yours.

You readjust awkwardly in your own chair and pull on the hem of your skirt.

“So,” Daniel clears his throat, the bottom of his glass scraping along the wooden tabletop, “how’d you find your first round of golf?”

You smile politely. “Uh, good. Yeah. I wasn’t expecting to be much, but it wasn’t too scary.”

He chuckles. “Yeah? Think you’ll be back?”

Your shoulders jerk with a shrug. “Maybe.”

He nods and dives headfirst into some long ramble about golf – something about the time he brought his sister and her kids here and how much worse they were than you, so you should really be proud of yourself, and he’d love to see you around here again sometime – but you’re only half listening. You’re stealing glances over at the bar, hunting for a chiseled jawline and monochrome beard.

You spot him locked between Steve and some other guy in all black, waiting for the bartender to draw up his order of drinks. He’s nodding, saying words back to the pair, but keeping his eyes locked on you.

You give him half a smile, half a, There you are, what the hell’s taking you so long? Can you come the fuck back? and hope he reads the words across your face.

“…so, as long as you stick with what you know, it’s actually a really enjoyable game.”

Daniel stares at you blankly, waiting for a response.

“Sure, sure,” you answer, after too long a pause to convince him that you were listening. “Sorry,” you close your eyes and give your head a shake, “was just checking on that waiter.”

Daniel nods. Follows the trail of your eyeline across the room, and looks back to you. “So, uh,” he clears his throat nervously, “I know this place downtown – Italian, has this big open rooftop seating area. If you’re interested, I’d, uh…I’d love to take you, sometime.”

You stare at him for a few seconds, frozen. Like, actually convinced the air in your lungs has turned to ice, frozen. Your eyes probably look like they’re about to burst out of your head, your mouth stuck in a dumb O-shape as you search frantically for the words to form a reply.

He smiles awkwardly. Watches as you blink straight back at him.

“I…” you manage, after what feels like fucking hours. “…That’s – so nice, Daniel, I – really – I’m flattered. Um…”

He interrupts, and it’s like a cold flannel on an acid burn. “Oh, Jesus. I – I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to – I’m sorry.”

“No,” you shake your head, suddenly animated, “no, listen. It’s – you’re –”

Daniel’s still apologizing. “Are you – sorry, I don’t mean to assume – are you and – you and Joel…?”

His head jerks. One eyebrow cocked. His fingers press into the table, making counter-rotating circles across the gleaming surface.

You stare from his hands to his face, open-mouthed. “N-no,” you tell him, with a single shake of your head. And then you realize he’s being serious. “No, no, we’re not – no, absolutely not. We’re just – friends.”

“Right,” he says, brows knitting. “It’s just – the guy hasn’t taken his eyes off you the entire time I’ve been sat here, so I just figured…maybe…”

You follow Daniel’s gaze across to the bar again, where Joel’s still standing, this time with Drew at his side. He’s mouthing Yeah, in reply to whatever Steve’s gabbing about, but not fucking listening to a word of it.

“No,” you say again, looking Joel dead in the eye. “We’re just friends.”

You turn to look back at the slick-haired man by your side, and he nods.

“But, uh,” you look into your glass, the ice suddenly more interesting than Daniel’s hopeful expression, “you’re a really nice guy, and I appreciate you asking, but I’m…not…exactly looking for anything right now. I’m – yeah.”

“Right – no, absolutely,” he says again, flustered. His fingers wrap tight around his glass and he shifts as if to stand. “That’s absolutely fine. I just thought I’d ask, y’know?”

He laughs nervously. You feel kinda guilty. He’s being so decent about it, and he means well, but you really just wish he would…fuck off.

He isn’t given the option.

Drew comes bounding over like a golden retriever and leans in to Daniel, another freshly poured pint swinging in his fist. “You’ve improved your game, Gilbert,” he sings in your suitor’s ear. “Must be years since the last time you scored an eagle!”

Daniel copies Drew’s guffawing, nodding along. He opens his mouth to say something, but Drew jumps ahead, offering to buy him a drink to celebrate.

“C’mon, my treat,” the blond tells him, and swaggers off towards the bar, a vice grip on the blue polo shirt.

The shadow of Joel slips around your back as soon as the two figures are out of view. He brushes against your shoulders and nudges his stool nearer to yours with his foot, before sitting back into it with a sigh.

You stare at him, smirking behind your hand, elbow resting on the arm of your chair. He catches your eye and watches you for a few seconds.

Sorry, he mouths eventually, and sneaks a hand onto your thigh.

You lean into him, feeling the weight of Daniel and his proposal and his fucking Italian restaurant fall like insignificant grains off sand off your shoulders. You trace a finger along the shape of Joel’s knuckles. “I feel bad,” you whisper.

“The hell for?” his voice asks, a deep rumble by your temple.

You shrug, looking up at him. “He’s a nice guy. He asked me on a date.”

“And did you want to go?”

Your face pulls into a wince, lips flinching. “Not really.”

“Then what’d I tell you about doin’ stuff you don’t want to?”

You don’t reply. Your mind sails back to that boat ride in Paris, when he basically told you off for feeling guilty about rejecting a fucking marriage proposal, never mind a downtown dinner. It doesn’t bear thinking about what fantastic rant he’s currently bottling up where Daniel’s feelings are concerned.

Joel’s a no-nonsense guy, you know this. Known it for as long as you’ve known him. He’s rational, he’s pragmatic. He says what he thinks, and you deal with however you feel about it. He doesn’t waste time making anyone feel better with lies or cushion-soft landings. His yes is yes and his no is no. And sure, maybe there’s something in there that you’d do well to adopt, too.

But there are inconsistencies to him that you can’t work out – yet. Something that makes him break his rules. He still hasn’t shared whatever the hell Jean-Marc said to him that made him sweep you off of that terrace minutes later. He won’t admit why he keeps dragging you along to these so-called ‘work’ events.

Part of you wants to break him open, chip away at him like the sculptures in the Louvre until his beating heart is in your hands, the rhythmic pulses sharing secrets like it’s speaking in Morse code.

And part of you – bigger, stronger, wiser – hopes you never get close.

When you come back to the room, sound of glasses clinking and men’s roaring laughter washing away any thoughts of jilted boyfriends or lonely golfers, Joel lowers his head to look you in the eye.

“You wanna go?”

You nod, scrunching your nose. “That okay?”

He leans in close, as close as he reckons he can get without drawing attention, and smiles softly. “You coulda asked to go home the minute we pulled up ‘n it woulda been okay. Let’s go.” And he takes your hand.

Drew’s slung over the shoulders of some argyle-patterned men who you’re sure have spent more time drinking than they have actually on the course. He’s lifting his glass, about to toast to life, or love, or fucking golf, when Joel sneaks by behind him, never letting go of your hand.

The Rolls Royce is sat in park at the bottom of the stone steps, hazard lights blinking. Joel holds the door open as you hop in under the twinkling ceiling.

“Well?” Rand asks, looking in the mirror. You respond with a toss of your head, squinting. “Did you keep your feet straight like I taught you?” he demands.

“Honestly, I was more focused on making sure I hit the ball, Rand.”

He snorts. “Office, Joel?”

“Office, Rand.”

As the partition closes, Joel’s hand comes up to cup the back of your head. You lean into it, tilting to look at him properly through eyes glazed with tiredness, alcohol, relief to be back in only his company.

And he’s staring back, eyes flitting from yours down to your mouth when you speak.

“Did you…did you send Drew over to get Daniel away from me?”

Joel’s eyes stay fixed on your lips. “You didn’t want me to do that?”

You ignore him. You want him to answer your question. “Did you?”

And then he looks up. Searches your eyes for a second, and then says, “Yeah.”

Your stare falls down into his lap. To his closed fist, resting on his thigh. His fingers are stroking the back of your head in lulling movements. You focus on the shine of his watch. And horror sets in.

“You wanted him to stay?” Joel asks, bringing you up for air for half a second.

You’re quiet when you reply. “…No. I didn’t want him anywhere near me.”

And that’s somehow scarier. That you didn’t want this decent, attractive-enough man around you. That the entire time he sat nipping your ear, your eyes, your hands, your heart was searching all over the room for Joel. Listening for the twang of his voice, looking for him out of your peripheral. Counting every second until he sauntered back to your side.

It’s rolling. The feeling. Like a snowball gaining speed down a mountain. Starts off a twinge, a plucking somewhere buried deep in your heart, and turns and turns and turns until it’s a weight behind your ribcage. Unable to burst free.

You take Joel’s wrist and move his hand to the curve of your thigh, then lock your fingers between his. He lets you. You lift your free hand to the cut of his jawline, training your fingers down his bristled beard, and he lets you do that, too. And when you pull his face down to meet yours, lips warm and wet and starving, he opens his mouth and slips his tongue past your teeth.

Your hands are knotting in his hair. You’re leaning back, trying to pull him down on top of you, but he’s stronger. His hands take a strong grip of your waist and hoist you over the center console and into his lap, your knees pressing into the soft leather either side of his hips.

“You gonna tell me what you’re up to, pretty girl?” he asks, tipping his head back. His shirt smells like his cologne. Fresh, sharp, clean. It sends your head spinning.

Your lips find his jawline and nip kisses and bites along the sharp ridge. He tastes like whiskey, tastes like the sun, tastes like he did four days ago. Sweet and smoky and laced with something intoxicating.

Joel sighs. His hands knead into your hips, and he pushes you down, grinding you into his body.

He’s hard. Already.

“Feels like you already know,” you mutter, still peppering his neck with kisses.

He laughs the cocky way he always does when you’re on this road, heading this way. His hands find your hair again and he pulls your head back, drawing a whine from your lips.

“You gonna take it like a good girl? Take daddy’s cock?”

“Mhm,” you mewl, rubbing your damp panties over the bulge in his pants.

Joel unzips his trousers and shifts the waistband loose. You move his hands and peel back the top of his boxers yourself, and he watches from under heavy lids as you take him in both hands.

“That’s – my girl,” he chokes, eyes following your pumping fists. His head tips back with a quiet groan.

You push yourself up, shuffle nearer to him until your cunt hovers over his cock, and pull your panties to the side. You’re fucking soaked, already wet enough that Joel’s thick head catches on the cusp of your entrance as you line him up, stealing a gasp from your lips.

You sink, slowly, letting him push through into your sex inch by inch, feeling yourself pull open around him. Your brows furrow, jaw falls wide at the white-hot feeling between your legs, and you look up to see your expression reflected in Joel’s.

His hands clutch at your hips. “So – fucking – tight,” he hums, eyes rolling.

You lock your knees and begin bouncing, resting your hands on top of Joel’s. You’re steadily picking up pace, each nudge of his tip against the edge of your pussy sending another spasm of stars across your quickly-blinding vision.

“Off,” Joel mumbles against your lips, fingers pinching the fabric of your shirt.

“Huh?” you ask back, looking down to where he’s already peeling it up your torso.

“Just the skirt,” he pants, desperate, “nothin’ else.”

You lift your arms and let him pull the polo from your body, tossing it onto the carpeted floor. Joel unhooks your bra and pulls the lace down, before he’s angling his hips up again, hitting you somewhere deep enough inside to steal the breath from your lungs.

And then his lips are on your naked chest, sinking into the valley between your breasts, kissing over to your nipple. His tongue flicks over and over until the bud is pointed, enough to take it between his lips and graze over it with his teeth.

Your thighs are burning. Your skirt sits bunched up on your hips, only just covering your ass as Joel’s hands press into the supple skin, lifting you effortlessly up and down. You melt into his touch, let him do the work for a few seconds as he sits back in his seat to watch your body on his.

“My good – girl,” he groans, voice thick with arousal. “You know how pretty you look right now?”

You hook your hand around his neck, draw him in a little nearer. Shake your head with a filthy smile on your lips. “Tell me.”

Joel laughs shakily. “Wanna – fuckin’ – show you off to everyone, babygirl.”

He’s kissing you slowly, his tongue pressed to yours, when you pull back and separate your lips. He’s planted a seed in your mind.

Joel’s hips stop moving immediately. “Y’okay?” he asks, light hand on the side of your head, keeping your eyes on him.

You nod, breathing heavy. “Mhm.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you shake your head, “just…”

You look down to your skirt, your bare thighs spread over Joel’s lap. The thought flips over and over in your head, unsure if it’s brave enough to trot down to your lips and show itself to Joel.

“Baby?”

It’s Joel, though. Same guy who bent you over his desk, same guy who fucked you senseless feet away from his flight attendants. Same guy who, a few days ago, you were in this exact position with: writhing in next to nothing on his lap.

Fuck it. Right?

“…want him to watch,” you say, in a small voice.

Joel’s expression doesn’t change, save for the way his eyes narrow. “Want who to watch?”

You look at him a beat longer, and it sinks in. He gets it.

“Yeah, babygirl? That what you want?”

“Mhm,” you reply, shifting with him when he starts moving his hips again. The car moves forward, pushing you closer into him. “Want him to – watch you fuck me.”

“Dirty girl. You want him to watch you cum for daddy, pretty girl?”

“Ye-ah,” you moan, Joel’s hands now pushing your waist down, the stretch of his cock deep inside you almost burning with pleasure.

“Yeah, you do,” he whispers, watching as your face pulls and your brows knit together.

“Only cum for you, daddy,” you whimper.

“I know, darlin’, I know. Close your eyes.”

By this point, Joel’s assured tone, his strong hands on your hips, his fucking length buried inside you, are enough to convince you. You just do as you’re fucking told – as soon as you’re fucking told.

Your eyes flutter closed, and you lean forward, hooking your chin over his shoulder and feeling him turn, his lips pressed close to your ear.

“Good girl. He there?”

The image of Daniel flits across your vision, bright blue eyes trained on you. He looks…intrigued, and stunned. He’s not breaking his stare.

“Mhm,” you say again, and start to lift off of Joel.

“He watching?”

“Y-eah,” you choke out, bouncing steadily.

“Put on a show for ‘im, pretty girl. Show him what you do for me.”

You focus on the feeling of Joel, cock fucking deep into you, nuzzling against your walls and splitting you open; the sound of his voice in your ear, gently encouraging, sweetly reassuring; the smell of him, the taste of him, the heat from his skin, and…the sight of the steel-blue stare behind your eyes. The tight polo shirt. The round biceps. Watching you.

Watching you be fucked by someone else. Watching you come undone for someone else. For the same guy whose stare he couldn’t shake while he so much as talked to you. Watching your face as it twists in filthy pleasure; listening to you make sounds, whisper words, whisper daddy in the ear of your fucking boss; have him whisper words back that make your cunt tighten around him and push the image of Daniel two steps back with shock.

“Tell me again, angel.” Joel’s voice starts to swipe Daniel away.

Your eyes peel open, the backseat of the Rolls a blur as you roll your head back. “What, daddy?” you whimper.

His hand takes your jaw, holds you in line with his own. “Tell me who this pussy belongs to.”

You breathe a laugh. It pulls across your mouth two seconds later. “M-me.”

Joel mirrors your grin. His hips buck once. You cry out. “Yeah?”

“Uhuh,” you yelp, getting louder as he snaps up into you deeper, faster, harder.

You’re drawing around him, warm and wet, feeling him deep in your stomach as your movements become sloppy and staggered. Pleasure swirls like a whirlpool between your legs, tightening, tightening, tightening.

Joel’s face sharpens into your vision. His eyes are fixed on yours. You watch his lips shape the words good girl, before he pulls your foreheads together, noses flush against one another.

“’n who fucks it like this?” he asks into your mouth.

You take a deep breath, inhaling his question, and let a satisfied exhale carry your answer back out.

“Just y-you, daddy.”

And you both fall.

You rock back and forth as the feeling drowns you both; open-mouthed, silently screaming, eyes trained on one another as you ride out your high together.

You throw your head back, eyes losing focus just inches under the stars until they blur into little white halos. Your arms lift up to lean against the tiny dotted lights, steadying yourself.

Joel’s hands clamp around your waist, holding you down on his cock as he shoots hot ropes of cum deep inside you, mixing with your own and filling you up. Your name escapes his lips hand in hand with a deep, throaty moan.

You body aches. Your cunt throbs around him, still humming with pleasure as your body curls again, falling forward until your face is hidden in the crook of his neck. His hands run up and down your spine, lips press featherlight kisses to your ear, shhing, whispering praise, bringing you slowly back into the car with him.

“Daddy…” you whisper into the soft cotton of his shirt, and you feel the weight of his cheek on your head.

His hands cup your cheeks and he lifts your face until you’re staring at one another. Your eyes are tired, you can hardly keep them open, but Joel holds you upright.

“We gotta stop this,” he whispers, and your foreheads fall together again as you laugh. “I’m gettin’ too old for it, baby.”

He’s still buried deep inside, slowly softening, but you don’t want him to go. Not yet. He reaches for your bra, helps you slip it back on, and you bend back to take your shirt in two fingers.

When you’re dressed, you sink back into him.

Joel laughs, brushing the wisps of your hair disturbed by pulling your shirt over your head. “That what you were thinkin’ about? While he was talkin’ to you?”

You smile lazily. Shake your head no. “Was thinking…about you taking me to the Italian he was talking about.”

Joel’s smile grows bigger. Biggest you think you’ve ever seen him smile before. It breaks into a laugh, a toothy chuckle, and then he kisses you.

You melt into him, tongue and teeth crashing against one another. Joel’s open palms surf along your thighs, molding around your skin. He squeezes the dimpled skin on your hips between his fingers.

“Tonight work for you?” he asks, and you giggle.

“No,” you tell him, “I got Martha’s to-do list to work through.”

He nods knowingly, eyes closing. “You want a hand with it?”

You smirk. “Can we fool around in your office between items?”

His head tips back against the headrest with an obvious expression. “What do you think?”

The car slows to a stop and Rand’s knuckles rap against the glass of the partition. You slip off of Joel’s lap, fix yourselves quickly, and then amble off back to the top floor, still a little weak in the knees.

“Home time, Martha,” Joel calls almost as soon as the elevator doors pull open.

“Excuse me?” she yells back.

He laughs. “I’m lettin’ you go early. It ain’t fair that we get to go have our fun ‘n you’re stuck here ‘til five. Let us know what needs done, ‘n then you can get goin’.”

“Ain’t that chivalrous?” Martha beams, blinking at you.

You saunter by her with a smile and toss your bag under your desk. You spin around, brace yourself against the arms of your chair, and throw yourself back against the comfortable leather.

“So,” she announces, almost fucking skipping over to you with her trusty notepad back in her clutches. “I whittled it down to just six things, so it shouldn’t keep you much longer than five o’clock…”

You lift your brows and nod along.

“…as long as you don’t find anything to distract yourselves with, that is.”

----------

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[squigglewigglewoo]

(✧) warnings: sexual content, rough sex, choking, oral (fem receiving), breeding kink(?), jealous sex, biting, marks, hickeys, manhandling, semi public sex, fingering, these men are mean, suicides mentioned once (it's dazai, what did you expect), possible objectification, thigh riding, degradation, dacryphilia, edging, orgasm denial, teasing, name calling, overstimulation, drinking, no dick for y'all today, afab reader, no pronouns used, pretty girl and good girl used like once, entirely not proof read. tell me if I missed anything. MDNI 18+ NSFW bellow the cut!

(✦) summary: what happens when someone gets just a little too touchy feely when they're around? 1283 words~

(✧) (a/n): this is entirely self indulgent, wrote it at midnight within an hour and edited it once I woke up, so I apologize is it didn't make much sense. lost my train of thought when it came tho fyodor so his part might be shorter than the others.

(✦) pairings: chuuya x fem!reader, dazai x fem!reader, fyodor x fem!reader, mentions of nikolai x reader. no uses of pronouns.

(✧) listening to~ fan behavior by Isaac Dunbar

chuuyas hands were on you the moment you two set foot in your shared penthouse, the gingers hands slipping to the back of your thighs as he throwing you into the bed, his coat and hat half hazardly discarded along the way, your heels thrown onto the ground as his hands slide your dresses skirt up. his gloved ginger traces over the crotch of your panties, the cloth already damp with your slick from your arousal, earning a mean chuckle from him as his finger flicked over your clothed clit. you felt almost ashamed to admit you found it attractive, the way he was near silent as he toyed with you, a cross between a smirk and a scowl on his face as he watched you squirm. "oh? so wet already? and yet you were talking to him while I was gone, hmm? what are you, some common street whore looking to be filled?" god, how could you have forgotten the reason you where in this position in the first place? being left alone as chuuya went to get another drink, only for the executive return to find his seat filled by the one and only dazai osamu, the brunette happily chatting away, one of your hands between his bandaged ones as you giggled, laughing at whatever nonsense the suicidal maniac spewed. oh, how you wanted to desperately whine and explain that you didn't even know the man, that he had just sat down and didn't listen when you said you already had someone, that your boyfriend would come back any minute. your desperate, babbled attempts to get out words is cut short as the man moves your lace panties to the side, shoving a finger inside you while his thumb rubbed lose and painfully light circles on your pearl, just enough to make your breath hitch, but not enough to be satisfactory. when had he taken off his glove? your thighs clamp shut around his hand, only earning a tsk from chuuya as his, still gloved, free hand spread your legs apart, so far it was painful, muscles burning and aching to rest. "oh? y'wanna cum? to bad, only good girls get to cum." his skilled fingers curl into you, just grazing over the spot that makes you see stars, making you claw and bed for him to please, pretty please stop being so mean and just fuck you already. he only laughs, his hand tightening its grasp on your thigh tighter as he leans over to ghost kisses along your neck, his voice quiet but rough, another finger slipping into your sopping cunt, curling and earning a breath moan from you. "not yet, doll. I'll fuck you when you remember who this pussy belongs to, yeah? or am I gonna have fuck you pregnant to make you remember? god, you'd look to beautiful like that though, everyone would know who you belong to, then."

dazais slender, bandaged hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you away from the bar where you had sat all pretty, innocently talking to the barkeep, the man flirting with you while you where completely oblivious to it, or plain ignoring it. you let him guide you, a soft "ah-? 'samu? are you alright?" falling from your lips as he pulled you into the bars bathroom, locking the door before picking you up and pushing you onto the sinks counter. the brunette fell to his knees infront of you, uncharacteristically quiet ad he unbuttoned your slacks, eyes wide as he shimmied them to fall to the ground, onto of your shoes, your underwear following lead and hanging from your ankle untill he pulled them off and stuffed them in his coat pocket, hooking your legs over his shoulders as his hands gripped at the juncture between your hips and thighs, squeezing softly as he laps experimentally over your wet folds. he watches you squirm, one hand covering your mouth to muffle the breathy gasp, thighs trembling and threatening to close around his head. "god.. you taste so good, sweetheart, all f'me." his gaze flickers upwards, a teasing smirk overtaking his lips before he pulls away from your pussy, kissing and nipping at your inner thighs, sucking and biting marks into the skin. soft whines and whimpers turn into mewls and quiet moans, sounds growing in volume as you slowly forget that your still in the bar. "shh.. wouldn't want someone to hear you, now would you?" punctuating his sentence with a bite to your inner thigh, his lips move to wrap around your clit, one hand moving from the fat of your thigh to slip into your gummy walls, curling and scissoring almost immediately. the pleasure near overwhelming as your thighs clamp around his head, one of your hands threading into his hair and pulling slightly as loud, muffled moans fall from your lips, your eyes shut as his other hand squeezes your thigh, nails digging into your skin. you tremble as your orgasm washes over you, dazai still eating you out like a starved man, licking up your release untill you weakly pull him away from your cunt by his hair, the man licking his lips as he stands between your legs, hands on your hips as he kisses you. you can taste yourself on his tongue, a soft mewl being pulled from you as he pulls away, burring his face Into you neck as he murmurs. "don't you think you taste good, pretty girl? thats something only I will ever taste, it's all f'me, that pesky barkeep will never even get close to touching you. you're mine, baby, you understand that?"

the cold hands on your hips rock you back and fourth, making you grind against fyodors thin thigh as you whimper and whine out "'m sorry"s for something you dont even know your apologizing for, tears bubbling in your eyes as your hands weakly grab onto his shirt. "oh? you're sorry? you didn't seem sorry when you were dancing with nikolai, now did you, you little tramp? all giggly as his hands roamed your body and spun you around as if you aren't mine to love, to hold, not his." fyodors hands tighten their grasp, near bruising in strength as his lithe fingers dig into the plush flesh on your hips, making the pace quicker and the pressure against your clit harder. the fabric of his pant leg is damp, the color deeper in saturation where your slick drips down, the material brushing against your clit and drawing soft gasps from you. your head falls, resting on his shoulder as you whimper and whine, hips bucking slightly rougher against him untill he holds you completely still, taking away every ounce of pleasure you had once had. "tsk.. I thought you would behave, but it seems not. am I going have to fuck your manners back into you, мплая?¹" his tone is harsh, mocking even, that sly smirk on his face as he tilts your head up to look at him, hand moving from your chin to your throat, squeezing lightly. the action pulls a soft squeak from you, the noise being swallowed as he kisses you, and you can't help but rock your hips against his thigh once more. though this time, he lets you, the hand that was on your hip moving to rub tight, quick circles along your clit. he pulls away from the kiss for a moment, his breath ghosting over your face as your eyes flutter open, looking up at him with a near pleading gaze. "oh? what a needy little thing you are. well go on. get yourself off on my thigh. little sluts like you don't deserve to get fucked."

Masterlist!

¹darling

dividers by @/cafekitsune

[halstudandruz]

Thigh or Nothing

*Not my gif*

Pairing: Matt Casey x Reader

Requested: Yes

Prompt: Months after your breakup Matt loses his cool

Warnings: smut (18+), thigh riding, jealous!Matt, edging, swearing

A/N: Continuing to live in my happy world where all my boys are alive and still in Chicago 🫶

“I’m sorry, [Y/N]. We did all we could.” Connor broke the news to you and you could almost feel your heart breaking into two.

“Thanks Connor. I know you did.” You sighed, he gave you a sympathetic nod, picking three beer bottles up and heading back towards his table.

It was the cherry on top of your week. Which was without question the worst since you had become a paramedic 6 years prior. You shouldn’t have asked, you're not supposed to ask and how you felt right this second made the reason clear. Like your entire job was a waste. Which deep down obviously wasn’t true. The lives you saved had outweighed the lives lost, but that fact didn’t always matter. Not when you gave your blood, sweat, and tears to save a child who they would only end up losing on the table hours later. The less you knew of the outcome the better, you could at least pretend they all had a happy ending then. You were glad your partner hadn’t come out tonight. At least then she could live in the dark of the truth, one that you would never tell her. Swallowing the lump in your throat you gestured for Stella who was filling a glass with beer. She handed the beverage to a man at the other end of the bar making her way towards you.

“Can I get a shot? Surprise me, something strong.” You requested just as a body slid into the chair next to you. The only seat still available at the bar. Glancing to your left your stomach only tightened.

“Hey.” Your ex boyfriend gave you a genuine smile hanging his coat on the back of the stool.

“Well if it isn’t Matthew Casey.” The blonde to his left interrupted before you could answer. His attention quickly turned to a girl you recognized from the State Attorney’s office. How you didn’t realize she was sitting there before was beyond you. You had loathed her from the moment she tried to entice Matt into getting a drink when you were out of town after him and Severide had helped them with a case.

“Kaylee, hey how are you?” Matt greeted, and you could see the minute she turned her charm on, turning her body to face him, chest popping out slightly, eyelashes fluttering, and a soft smirk appearing on her lips. You would venture a guess that she had heard about your breakup somehow, not that she cared if he was in a relationship before. Stella appeared back in front of you.

“Yeah, make that two.” You sighed downing the tequila.

“[Y/N].” Stella warned glancing over to Matt and Kaylee who were now laughing. She was your best friend which meant she was also in charge of nixing your bad decisions when it was warranted.

“Just one more.” You looked at her pleading, she knew what a rough week it had been and you knew she was looking out for you but right now you didn’t care. She shook her head grabbing a bottle to fill the shot glass in front of you. “Thank you.” You nodded after feeling the burn down your throat a second time. You could feel Matt’s side eye and chose to ignore it for the better.

Thirty minutes later the shots were beginning to buzz in your bones only furthering your irritation when you watched Kaylee lean whispering into Matt’s ear.

“Hey.” A voice over your shoulder caused you to jump.

“What’s up?” You forced a smile at Severide. You and Severide had become close friends throughout the years mostly due to the grief of losing your partner and his best friend, sticking by each other’s sides through the thick of it, always having him nearby was a comfort.

“Just wanted to check in on you.” He sat down in the seat beside you that had been vacated 10 minutes ago. The one you were about to move to hoping it would lessen your ability of hearing Kaylee’s dare you say pathetic flirting.

“Yeah, I’m good!” You nodded, high pitched voice a little excessive. Were you coping super well? Not exactly. Trying to dissociate tragedies was supposed to come natural to you, just like everyone else in the firehouse and normally you could maybe, but Chicago seemed to implode this week and despite all your best efforts you were fighting a losing battle on almost all occasions. That’s the reason you asked Connor about the little boy from this morning expecting a good report and your spirits to be raised only to be shocked at the truth.

“Mhmm,” he raised an eyebrow glancing over your shoulder at his best friend’s back, “I’m sure that’s true.”

“It’s just like.. does he have to do it right here.” You rolled your eyes, whispering to Kelly, for no good reason since Matt was clearly so enthralled in conversation he wouldn’t have heard you anyway.

“Payback is a bitch, [Y/L/N].” Kelly chuckled, eliciting confusion to appear on your face.

“What does that even mean?” You tried to take a drink before realizing your glass had nothing but ice left, “Gallo,” you summed the dark haired man over holding your drink up.

“You know, [Y/N], I get off early tonight.” Gallo filled your glass wiggling his eyebrows which earned a laugh from Severide. Blake was cute, adorable actually. The kind of guy that would fall at a woman’s feet, make her wonder why she ever spent her life with any other loser. Not someone you wasted a quick hookup on, and right now that’s all you wanted.

“Yeah buddy, see how well that plays out for you.” Severide wore a smug grin, which annoyed you just because he was skilled at getting girls in bed with him didn’t mean he could make fun of the poor kid.

“Ritter gonna be out tonight? Cause I tend to get loud.” You lowered your voice head cocking to the side, a flirty grin appearing on your face, instantly causing redness to form around Blake’s cheeks as he slid the newly filled glass towards you.

“God knows that’s the truth.” Severide huffed, taking a drink of his beer, and your head whipped to him, a scowl appearing.

“Oh fuck you, I had to deal with your hookups on god knows what surfaces for practically a year straight so hush,” You shoved him, you and Matt hadn’t exactly lived together, but you might as well have. You stayed with him practically every night off and since Severide was his roommate he may have been unfortunate enough to be subjected to your pleasure induced sounds every once in a while. “And don’t act like you didn’t like it.” You teased.

Gallo coughed around the drink of water he had just taken, obviously taken back.

You had considered continuing the charade until you heard Kaylee ask Matt if his place was close. Stomach clenching at the words you moved quickly to take a drink, too quickly apparently as the drink ended up in Matt’s lap instead of in your mouth.

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry!” Heat immediately surfaced on your face. You truly didn’t mean to knock your full glass into Matt’s lap. The adrenaline from your jealousy mixed with everything else that week had you completely flustered and the cup slipped right out of your hand, but you knew from the outside looking in it would never look that way.

You could hear Kaylee scoff, looking up to see her roll her eyes dramatically. “Matt I didn’t-“ You flushed taking a single napkin trying and failing to help the mess at all.

“[Y/N], it’s fine. I just..I’ll be back.” He waved you off, stepping towards the bathroom.

“That was convenient.” Kaylee commented harshly, taking a sip of her martini.

“Believe me you don’t want to go there tod-“ You began to stand up, but beside you Kelly squeezed your knee keeping you put.

“Hey, it's not worth it. Trust me.” He encouraged, prompting you to shut up. Was it a good idea to get into a cat fight with an attorney? Probably not, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t tempting.

“Yeah, thanks. I’m going to go check on Casey.” You patted him on the shoulder heading towards the bathroom, throwing the blonde a glare.

“Matt?” You knocked on the door as a warning before pushing it open. The hand dryer on the wall was loudly whirring as he stood underneath it, the handle pointed at his crotch as best as it could be.

“I’m not mad,” he started the minute you appeared in front of the door, “I know you’ve had a rough week and don’t like her and you have every right not to, but-“ at his words your jaw almost dropped to the ground cutting him off.

“You’re not actually implying I did that on purpose.” You scoffed in disbelief, he knew you better than that.

“What am I supposed to think? It was pretty convenient timing, and I watched you down two shots the moment she started talking to me.” He laid his line of thinking out, and it was fair. Did you love seeing Kaylee flirt with him? Not for a single second. Were you trying to get trashed tonight? Absolutely. But regardless you would never do that to him.

“Fuck you, Matt. We both know we do what we need to in order to get through some weeks and sometimes that includes alcohol.” You defended, your face was beginning to heat up in anger at the accusation escalating. Not to mention you were far from drunk.

“Does that include hooking up with your superiors?” He quipped, making your heart drop at the realization he knew what the last few months held for you after your split.

“How do you know about that?” Panic took hold of your chest. Nobody was supposed to know, it could be really bad for both of you if anyone had found out about you and Hawkins.

“I have my sources.” He blew you off, once again hitting the hand dryer on the wall aiming his other thigh at it now. You weren’t dumb you knew exactly who his sources were, and Stella was gonna get an ear full later. She should know full well that anything that goes into her boyfriend’s ears will undoubtedly be in his best friend’s soon after. You and Kelly might’ve been close but he had an obvious loyalty to his partner in crime, “I’m just saying I haven’t felt the need to cause drama anytime you’ve left with Evan or your pick of the night.” His voice was raised even as the dryer dwindled to a stop.

“So, you’re slut shaming me now then? Is that what we’re doing?” You crossed your arms against your chest getting defensive

“Oh, come on [Y/N]. You know I’d never do that. Have all the sex you want, with whoever you want. It’s none of my business. I’d just request that you don’t let your ego cockblock me next time I’m trying to do the same.” He bit back. You knew he was right. He would never actually slut shame you and the accusation was a low blow, but the alcohol was causing annoyance to course throughout your body. Only heightened the second you watched him lean closer to the attorney.

“My ego? Really?” You laughed, humorously.

“Yes, your ego. You were jealous. Go ahead and admit it,” he encouraged and you rolled your eyes refusing to do as he asked, “you think I like watching you leave here with guys wrapped around your finger? I don’t at all, but at least I can admit it.” He took a paper towel from the dispenser. You had no idea why he was furiously dabbing at the mess, it was pretty clear the wreckage was cleaned as much as it possibly could be.

“This is ridiculous.” You huffed, the conversation was going absolutely nowhere. On a normal everyday basis you and Matt had been pretty good at putting your breakup on the back burner. Having to work with each other wasn’t always easy, but you both were handling it well with dignity and respect. Tonight, on the other hand, was different. Tempers were beginning to flare, and filters were flying out the window. All you were trying to do was offer him a genuine apology, but all you were getting in return was underhanded comments. “The only thing I came in here to do was take responsibility and apologize for an accident. I don’t know what your problem is.” You did not foresee this turning into a fight when you got up.

“You are!” He exclaimed, jaw tightening.

“Excuse me? What’s that supposed to mean?” Your emotions were beginning to boil. This made sense though. Your split was pretty amicable. Too afraid to say something and regret it later. Only having to face it every other day for the rest of your life, but maybe you were being too cautious. Maybe things needed to be said. Maybe mistakes needed to be made.

“You are,” he reiterated, stepping closer to you finally lowering his voice, “do you know how goddamn hard it’s been to see you leave here every week with a different guy? To hear that you’re fucking Hawkins when you’re all that’s still on my mind?” His voice was quivering and it took you a minute to adjust to the sudden change in tension. Surprised at his admission. You had never seen Matt like this. Even when you were together if someone had hit on you or overstepped their bounds he would kindly and calmly inform them that you were taken. Just as you would expect Matt Casey to. But this was something else. Months of built up jealousy, unable to do or say anything about it apparently taking a toll. His hand was gripping the sink so hard his knuckles were pure white, an anguished look in his eyes as he thought about it, and it was undeniably sexy. “I know that I have no right, but good lord, [Y/N]. It is slowly kill-“ You couldn’t even allow him to say another word. You were certain if you didn’t get your hands on him within the second you were going to burst into flames, gripping his face tightly, quickly molding his lips to yours. The rhythm was quick to find, familiarity not too far gone.

It didn't take Matt very long to take advantage of the kiss, pushing you back a few steps against the nearest wall, forcing his tongue into your mouth. Your hand found its way to the hair at the back of his neck threading your fingers through it. It was intense, fire quickly spreading through your body, slotting your hips against his leg, hips moving in desperation.

“Look at you, so fucking desperate. Like you haven’t been fucked right in months.” Matt’s hand rested on your ass encouraging the movement, lips moving down your neck.

It was true. Right after you and Matt had broken up you began frequenting bars, joining hookup apps, going home with a different guy multiple times a week. The problem was nobody matched up to him. There were some decent ones and some really sucky ones too, only concerned about how fast they could get there, skipping foreplay almost entirely, but no matter what without fail it always ended with you craving your ex. The only one to even slightly quench your thirst was your boss, Evan Hawkins so an occasional hookup may or may not have happened. What Matt clearly didn’t know is the agreement you two had, had recently come to an end after learning of a friend’s interest in the Chief. Leading to those hookups to become extinct over a month ago. So, whatever he was offering you were willing to take it without hesitation.

His teeth nipping at your collarbone only furthered your need allowing him to push you down harder on his leg. Leaning closer into him you took ahold of his hand that was gripping your hip trying to move it under your skirt.

“Uh uh uh,” He resisted, “it’s my thigh or nothing, baby.” He wore a cocky smirk, only growing the second you whined a quiet,

“Matt.” A defeated, pleading look appearing in your eyes. While his attitude was angering you slightly, only wanting to reach a high right this second, and you had no doubt his fingers could do exactly that, you couldn't deny how hot this was and how his ultimatum only furthered the wetness building between your legs.

“Show me how bad you need it, princess, but try not to be too loud there is an entire bar of our coworkers 50 feet away.” His thigh tightened as if he was wanting you to go against his warning, a strangled moan on the tip of your tongue, body getting as close to you as he possibly could so his smell engulfed you, a smell you missed having wrapped around you more than you thought.

You whimpered into his neck pushing your hips down harder, and you could feel him steadily growing against your hip. “You’re so beautiful you know that?” He complimented both hands moving to your ass encouraging you to speed up your movements, the friction from the denim winding a coil in your stomach. Your fingers clawed at his biceps looking for as much contact as possible. Head falling back against the wall, your eyes closing tightly, your breathing was starting to speed up shakily with every grind of your hips.

“Matt, I don’t know if I can. I don’t know if it’s enough.” You admitted, the knot growing but only torturing you as you continued to rut against his leg, needy whimpers spilling from your mouth.

“Yes, you can. I know you can. You want me so bad? Make a mess on me first. Be a good girl.” Matt encouraged flexing the muscle in his thigh once again, dragging his teeth down the side of your throat stopping to bite behind your ear, one hand coming up to tweak your hardened nipple over your top and you finally snapped, a breathless moan falling from your lips as Matt helped work you through your high.

“Good thing you already fucked up my pants earlier or else I’d be pretty concerned about the mess you're leaving behind right now. Your panties are going to be ruined.” He wasn’t kidding, there was absolutely zero doubt he would have evidence of this encounter on his thigh if you stepped off right now. He was however wrong about one thing.

“Not wearing any.” You shrugged, letting your leg fall shakily from Matt’s hip.

“For fucks sake.” He groaned pupils flashing even darker, roughly gripping the back of your neck and pulling your lips back to his for a sloppy kiss.

“Yours? It’s closer.” You mumbled into his neck after pulling away to get a breath, biting it playfully. Nodding he stepped back to pull his phone out of his pocket to reserve an Uber and unsurprisingly there was indeed a dark spot staining his jeans, but all you were focused on was the bulge to the right of it, mouth watering contemplating dropping to your knees right there, missing the weight of his cock on your tongue, when he grabbed your hand.

“We’ll go out the back.” He gave you a quick kiss, opening the door to check for anyone before sneaking through the kitchen out into the cold, a car pulling up to the curb just as you made it around the building.

The minute you were in the Uber your mouth was back on his.

“Sorry to interrupt but I’m gonna need an address confirmation before you suck all the air outta his lungs, honey.” A nice older woman, joked from the driver's seat. Blushing you mumbled an apology putting some space between you two. Matt chuckled in amusement, confirming the address on the screen.

“Probably get a lot of this, this time of night huh?” Matt began a conversation hand resting teasingly high on your thigh.

“Absolutely, but I don’t mind. It’s nice to see young people having fun. It’s cliche but you really do only live once and y’all are in your prime years. They go faster than you think. So, as long as everyone is being safe and aren’t actually doing anything disrespectful in my backseat I don’t mind.” She smiled, kindly. The conversation continued for the remaining 5 minutes until she pulled in front of Matt’s apartment building. “Have a good night you two. Be safe.” She winked. Giggling you got out thanking her, approving of Matt’s 5 star review and generous tip once you made it in the elevator. Your hand was clasped in his, thighs involuntarily rubbing together at the tension, having to behave with all your might thanks to the elderly couple who accompanied you.

As soon as the door to his apartment was closed and your shoes were discarded his mouth was back on yours, stealing your breath at the need he conveyed. Untucking your top from the skirt it was discarded on the hardwood, tapping your thighs you took the hint allowing him to wrap your legs around him walking you to his bedroom. It had been the first time you had been back in the apartment since the breakup. Heart aching as your mind flashbacked to Matt swallowing harshly, blinking back his tears, in an attempt to put on a strong front as you walked out.

Luckily, you were quickly teleported back to the present once your back hit his bed, allowing him to pull his shirt off in one movement.

You would never not stare, never could not stare at a shirtless Matt Casey. You had made it a point not to be near him in the locker room recently because it just was not a power you possessed. Not sure how it was a power anyone could possess as your eyes raked over his broad chest, his forearms and hands causing your hips to wiggle slightly. He didn’t let you gaze long though, bending to attack your bare chest. Hand moving between your thighs to learn you weren’t lying earlier, a groan escaping him at the finding. His lips laid kisses all over your breasts, fingers moving to trail down your slit hips immediately jumping.

“So needy.” His free hand squeezed your hip forcing it down, just as he pressed a finger in slowly you let out a deep sigh. It wasn’t enough, you needed more immediately.

“More..” You requested as he curled his finger just right putting more pressure against your waist when your pelvis fought to jerk forward. Obliging, he added a second finger increasing the speed. Your body was begging you to work for it, wanting to rock your hips down to ride his hand but his strong hold was preventing it. A groan fell from your lips the minute his thumb met your clit rubbing soft circles.

“You wanna come on my fingers?” He whispered in your ear, biting it softly. You were breathing heavily, quickly nodding your head yes in response. Your walls clenching when he crooked his fingers once again, so damn close, when he pulled away from you.

“Matt, what the fuck?” You whimpered, squirming under his lustful gaze.

“I don’t think you’re ready yet.” He brushed you off, but the glint in his eye proved how much he enjoyed this and it was clear you were in for a long night, leaning forward he pulled your last piece of clothing down your legs roughly tugging you towards the edge of the bed by your ankles, ending on his knees between your legs, and it was a sight to behold. One of your favorites if you were being honest. You were taken back at the lack of teasing the minute Matt shoved his mouth into your pussy, tongue darting out to lick your clit, a wail echoing from your lips, “You taste so damn good, forever my favorite meal, baby.” He praised nipping the sides of your thighs when his finger circled your entrance once again filling you. You directed all your focus towards keeping quiet as the knot grew tighter with every movement, hoping if you didn’t give him any sign of how close you were you could trick him into letting you come, hands twisted tight in the sheets when he sucked your clit finger curling to hit your sweet spot, but at the last second he pulled away, ripping you back from the brink once again.

“Fuck!” You huffed, hand punching the sheets, Matt chuckled above you,

“You’re so cute thinking I don’t know your body like the back of my hand.” And okay while this sucked, cocky Matt was intoxicating.

He edged you three more times and you were so wound up you feared the second he got in you, you would burst. You were physically panting, tears covering the sheets under your head.

“Matt-please. I’ll fucking call Hawkins right now.” You bargained, and despite the jealously that flashed deeper on his face he grinned smugly.

“You think threatening me right now is a good idea?” His eyebrow raised.

“I don’t know! I just need something, anything please.” Your thighs squeezed together begging for friction. Your eyes traveled down the man’s body, hardness in his jeans more than evident and you reached out towards him, missing the feeling of him in your hand, getting to watch his face scrunch in pleasure with just a flick of your wrist, but he caught your hand.

“Tonight’s about you baby, and making you wonder why you’d ever want someone else to put their dick in you.” He winked, his words actually surprised you. He was never this territorial over you, but it lit an even bigger fire inside of you. “Tell me what you want.” He ordered hands resting against the edge of the bed.

“You, right now. Anyway you’ll give it to me.” You wasted no time in answering, batting your eyelashes.

Smiling he finally pulled his jeans and boxers down allowing the bulge in his pants room breathe, tip red and dripping, moving to hover on top of you, he teased his cock through your wetness appreciating the way your cheeks flushed, his pupils dark not allowing you much time to drool, “Condom?” He asked, seemingly forgetting until this point not used to having to use them with you since you were on birth control, “I’m sure Severide has some.” You could see the hurt in his eyes from having to ask, and it made your heart ache in turn, but you shook your head,

“I’ve made everyone else wear one.” You explained, hooking your legs around his hips and his relief was obvious.

“Ready?” He leaned down to place a soft kiss on your forehead, a welcoming softness in a tension filled room.

“God, yes.” You wiggled your hips attempting to angle him in.

At the confirmation Matt thrusted deep into you pulling a gasp out of you at the roughness. You could vividly remember the first time Matt and you had sex. Gentle, intimate, loving after years of longing and avoiding the inevitable between you two. Completely different than right now. You wouldn’t be surprised if tomorrow you found marks from the Captain’s fingers around your hips pulling you towards him feverishly, everytime his dick thrusted forward into you, and it was exactly what you needed. It took a whole two seconds for you to fill the room with moans, allowing him to manhandle you from the start. He maneuvered your legs from his hips to his shoulders enabling him to go deeper, screaming when he thrusted his hips the perfect way, “Matt-oh my god,“ your body was tightening embarrassingly fast.

“Yeah, baby?” He gritted, and you were extremely impressed at how well he was keeping his composure tonight.

“You’re so fucking good.” You complimented through ragged breaths, eyes tightly shutting at the growing pressure.

“Go and fuck whoever you want, but you’re always gonna end up back here, baby. Cause nobody can fuck this pussy better than me, huh? Tell me I’m right baby girl, you don’t come until you do.” He bargained, pulling out so just the tip was in you, slowing down his thrusts. You didn’t want to give in, to give him the satisfaction regardless of it being the truth, but based on how he was acting tonight you really believed if you didn’t confirm his suspicions he wouldn’t let you come, and you just might actually die if that was the case. Literally whining, tears springing to your eyes, your feet dug into his shoulders in an attempt to make him go deeper. So fucking close, your muscles hurt from the strain of being so tightly wound time and time again, “Sweetheart, I can come just like this right now if you want me to. Be like every other guy you’ve been with recently. Is that what you want?” His tone was dripping in arrogance and his shallow thrusts were successfully torturing you. How this side of him could be completely infuriating but completely erotic at the same time was beyond your comprehension at the moment. You had never been so distraught, allowing your pride to go out the window without a second thought.

“Matt-“ you felt the tears starting to run down your face, “please. It’s you- it’s yours. Need you, always need you. Please let me come.” Your breathing was ragged, hips doing their best to entice him closer, pull him in on their own accord.

“Good girl.” He praised leaning down to kiss the tears away softly, “you’re so damn pretty.” He smiled genuinely, studying your features.

“Fuck me, Captain.” You smirked, although enjoying the snippet of fluff. Laughing, Casey returned to his previous position.

“Remember you asked for it.” He teased throwing you a wink before flipping you over on your stomach, ramming into you harder this time. The bunch of nerves you had felt plenty of times tonight already quickly returning full force, Matt was finally starting to lose his cool, grunts falling from his lips.

“Fuck, [Y/N].” Looking over your shoulder you could see his eyes were between your legs intently watching where you two met, a sight you wish you had the ability to see.

“Matt-“ a broken sob fell from your lips, “so close.” You were attempting to move your hips with his but the brutal pace he had set was hard to match. He wrapped an arm around your waist pulling you up against his chest. Pressing the fingers from his right hand against your clit, rubbing soft circles.

“Go ahead, gorgeous.” He encouraged into your ear kissing the back of your neck, seconds later your body practically convulsed finally letting go, back arching off into his chest, a loud moan echoing in the room. Matt having to hold you up completely as you worked through your high. He followed soon after filling you with warmth every time his dick twitched. A feeling you missed more than you’d like to admit.

You lay in silence after collapsing on the mattress, legs shaking, Casey’s head dug into your neck trying to resurrect his breath, heart beating rapidly against your back. The intensity finally dwindling, causing an unwelcome sob to break out of you at the sudden change of environment. Matt’s head shot up at the sound.

“Hey hey hey, what’s wrong? I’m sorry, was it too much?” Matt’s body went rigid concern lighting his eyes, as he took your face between his hands.

“No, not at all. It was incredible. I’m sorry, I’m being ridiculous.” You tried to brush him off, a wet laugh coming out, attempting to get out from under him and off the bed.

“No, come here. Talk to me.” He repositioned you so you were now laying on top of him against his chest. Holding you tightly.

“It’s just…I’ve had the most terrible week. Truly awful and all I’ve wanted, all I’ve craved every single day was a Matthew Casey hug.” You sniffed, shaking your head embarrassingly. His arms tightened around you at your confession, dropping a kiss against your head, and the familiarity did exactly as you assumed it would, tension releasing from your body, relaxation taking over in its place.

“Baby, I’ll I’ve wanted to do this week is give you a hug. I’m right here. I’m always right here. No matter what, I’m yours, baby, and I will wait however long it takes for you to come back to me and realize that I’m the guy for you.” His hand was trailing soothingly up and down your back.

“I’m just scared, Matt.” You had never given him a true reason for leaving, claiming you just didn’t know if you felt right in a relationship at the time.

“Of what?” He asked.

“Having to watch you run into burning buildings has never been my favorite regardless of how good you look in bunker gear, but..after Otis it’s just been unbearable, and I just thought maybe if I broke it off it would get easier. It would just feel uneasy like with Kelly or Stella rather than crippling.” You explained, emotions getting the better of you as you thought back to losing Otis and having to watch Katie crumble.

Chloe had the same thoughts and luckily for Cruz she learned to accept it, but she also didn’t have to physically witness it. She didn’t have to worry every time Boden’s face ticked with concern when he didn’t like something. Didn’t have to count down the seconds waiting for him to reappear in the smoke when Boden pulled them. Didn’t have to beg your shaking hands to stay steady and focus on the patient when you heard an accidental pass alarm.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me this?” His voice was so calm, so full of sympathy.

“What were you gonna do, Matt?” He wasn’t going to stop being a firefighter and you’d never want him to.

“I don’t know.” He admitted, “Has it worked?” It was a question he didn’t want to ask, but one he needed an answer to.

“Far from it,” you shook your head swallowing more tears, “I don’t know if I’ll ever get over it, losing Otis, watching everyone fall apart maybe it’s something I need to talk to someone about, but regardless it’s just made me realize god forbid something did happen I’d be so pissed I didn’t spend everyday with you that I could. I love you with my entire being Matthew Casey, and I think it’s pretty clear that’ll never stop.” You finally looked up at him.

“This is the dick lust talking isn’t it?” He joked after a beat of silence allowing you to laugh, smacking him in the chest. “I promise I will do everything I can to always come out for you.” He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear closing his eyes to kiss you on the head.

“I think jealous Matt is my new favorite Matt.” You grinned eyes sparkling.

“Hawkins is just lucky his face is still intact.” He growled, only confirming your new opinion.

“I’m hungry.” You attempted to steer off the topic, accompanied by your stomach rumbling.

“We did put in quite a workout.” Matt joked kissing your cheek, “I can order some pizza let me just see if Severide is home.” He jumped up to put a pair of sweatpants on, throwing you a Chicago Fire sweatshirt of his basking in his scent overwhelming you.

“God bless him if he is.” You winced thinking back to his comment in the bar earlier. Throwing the piece of clothing on as Matt disappeared into the hallway.

Two minutes later the man in question appeared in your doorway, arms crossed against his chest, a cocky look on his face.

“You seriously need to learn these walls aren’t soundproof.” He quipped, forcing a blush on your cheeks.

“You know what? You had to have seen the trail of clothes when you got home you knew what you were getting into.” You defended, shrugging.

“I’m just kidding, I got home like two minutes ago. Figured I’d give you some time when neither of you happened to come back to the bar.” He laughed when you rolled your eyes, walking to sit on the bottom of the bed, “I’m sorry for telling him about Hawkins by the way. I was just trying to kick his ass into gear.”

“Alright, it’s ordered, 35 minutes.” Matt announced as he reappeared in the room, climbing back into his bed beside you pulling you into his side.

“Casey, your girl almost took down an attorney today. Who by the way wasn’t very happy when you never returned.”

It was a perfect end to a not so perfect week.

[deansdelicate]

I CAN SEE YOU

CHAPTER I: YOU BRUSH PAST ME IN THE HALLWAY

seth rollins x fem!writer+producer reader

word count: [5.3K]

warnings: no use of y/n, mild cursing, talks of anxiety, overall feel good chapter with some slight flirting.

🎧 the soundtrack

summary: Your first day on the main roster wasn't something you ever saw coming, but taking risks is the exact reason why you were there. Still, like walking on new grounds, you find yourself on edge, it a miracle that an encounter with a certain someone leaves you feeling a little at ease with the new beginnings ahead.

The pep in your step felt a little different, and so did the air that belonged to a city you’ve never stepped foot in before—but all of that culminated into nothing when you were thrown in with the sharks not knowing what exactly you were getting yourself into.

The corridors were far more confined than you remembered them being when you were a little kid, and the stares you got were almost gawking. So much different from the admiration that used to fill their orbs when you were a little girl running up and down similar hallways in a different state, different city, different night.

But it’s because you knew they didn’t look at you like that little girl anymore. Nowadays, your entire being was shaped by who your mother and father were, plus the prestigious family name you possessed and the legacy you were expected to carry on.

All of it is foreign, like figuring out how to walk again and this time it’s in a world full of larger-than-life characters that even you cannot seem to fathom quite yet. You grew up around all of it, but you never imagined walking in the shoes of those before you and paving your own way.

A way towards what could be the downfall of your family name or the rise of a new era that started with you.

“The evolution of this company lies within the palm of my hand and—shoot!”

Your footsteps came to an abrupt halt, your body meeting a stiff chest that nearly knocked you to your feet if it weren’t for the quick hands keeping you up by the waistline.

The loose paper scripts fell from your hands, cascading across the concrete floors, losing their orderly place from where you were practicing for what felt like the millionth time.

“Shit! Let me help you, I’m sorry.” A deep voice spoke apologetically, making sure you were standing upright before letting up on his grasp.

The man immediately beat you to it, bending down to gather all the papers, trying his best not to mix them up even more than he already did. Tapping them against the ground to get them in a crisp stack, he rose up and met your eyes.

“Thanks…sorry, it was my fault. I wasn’t paying attention.” You apologized, taking the stack of papers he handed to you.

He shook his head smiling assuringly, “I should’ve been more careful,” he paused for a brief moment, tilting his head at you as if he was trying to place you in his memory.

“Are you new here? I haven’t seen you around before.”

You nodded, smiling widely, trying your best to wash away the first day jitters, “Today’s my first day, actually.”

His lips parted in silent surprise before speaking once more.

“Welcome to the team, my names Seth by the way.” He held out his hand, offering it to you politely.

“Nice to meet you, Seth.” You shook his with a grin on your face.

All of him suddenly hitting you like a ton of bricks, realizing that you should’ve known him the second you two caught eyes.

You had been studying the program closely as a part of your preparation for the venture. Your father making sure you knew every face and every name, not just out of respect but to understand the importance of storytelling—something you were about to be a part of in mere hours as the clocked ticked on.

So you were familiar with Seth Rollins. The mastermind behind the toughest faction of all time, the architect behind his success, the very person who was able to redesign, rebuild, and reclaim it, and most recently the Monday Night Rollins that was taking the world by storm.

You introduced yourself to him, leaving out a very crucial part before you felt your phone buzzing in your back pocket. Quickly you released his hand, apologizing under your breath, pulling it out—the screen flashing with messages from your father wondering where you were.

You looked up at him, tucking your phone away.

“I gotta run. Hope to catch you around, Rollins!” You called out, passing him a simple wave before heading off to where you needed to be.

Seth shrugged, continuing on his way to catering not thinking anything much of the encounter. He was versed around the crew. Camera men, mic operators, stage hands, creative personnel, security—the list went on.

After years of being on the road with the same company, he was acquainted with almost everyone. Granted, he got some names confused here and there, but for the most part he knew the faces that were always around.

You happened to be one of the new ones—a pretty one at that. It wasn’t every day that the company expanded their crew, too accustomed to the people who were well seasoned with the type of show they were producing and the talent they needed to get it out to the fans. But he knew if you were here, then you surely knew what you were doing.

“There you are Mr. Monday Night,” Kofi whistled with a smirk, catching the sight of Seth walking through catering wearing a big ‘ole smile.

“Yeah, yeah,” he waved off, going to make himself a plate of food to get himself energized before the show, “You gonna call me that every time I enter the room?” He barked playfully, tossing a little bit of everything on his plate.

Kofi hummed, pulling out a chair for his friend to sit, “What’s the sense of you naming yourself Monday Night Rollins if I don’t seize the opportunity for a nickname?”

“We could always call you Triple R? Redesign, Rebuild, Reclaim?” Charlotte quipped and everyone shook their heads.

“Paul would have a field day with that one,” Dean snorted with a grunt.

Catering was one of the many communal spaces in every arena. Superstars mingling with others before and in between matches, and a lot of them traveling with others to make work feel more like play outside the ring. While the routine may seemed hectic for some, for people like Seth who had been doing it long before WWE, it was second nature, only this time nicer rental cars and occasional business class flights made it less stressful.

The catering door swung open, a stagehand who looked rather frantic eyed the room.

“Have any of you seen Ms. Levesque?”

Seth furrowed his brows, confused as he and the rest of the room answered ‘no’ while the stagehand sighed, communicating into their earpiece and then disappearing.

Stephanie had stepped down from her co-CEO position months ago after her husband Paul took over and while it wasn’t odd for her to pop in every once in a while, it was even odder that a stagehand of all people was out looking for her.

“Since when did Steph drop the Mrs?” He wondered, looking around at his friends who shrugged carelessly, not paying it any mind.

You raced through the hallways, reading aloud every plaque that hung from the doors until you finally came across the one you had been searching for amidst all the twists and turns of the arena. You turned the knob, pushing your way inside to be greeted with your dad looking up from his laptop and rising from his desk with a smile on his face.

“There you are,” He greeted, walking around to greet you with a hug.

“Hey,” You closed your eyes peacefully, holding him tightly before releasing, “Sorry I got caught up with TJ and Dave.”

You waved the still jumbled scripts in your hand, and he chuckled, nodding his head knowing that’s exactly where you should’ve been after he sent some stage hands to search for you. He could feel your anxiety and he could certainly read it in your face—no matter how much he tried to prepare you and let you process it on your own, he knew it was the normal nerves coming out to play.

“Relax kid, don’t get too in your head over this,” He encouraged you, gently nudging your side with his elbow. “The moment you get out there it’s going to come like second nature.”

You rolled your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Are you really trying to work in a Ric Flair reference right now?”

He laughed out loud, ruffling the top of your head with a grunt.

“You’re lucky you're my daughter you know that?”

“Oh trust me, I’m aware.”

You hung out in his office, getting the scripts placed back into the correct order, reading it over while your dad typed away responding to important emails he didn’t want to bore you with. It was his duty as a father to not stress you with unnecessary business on your very first day, but sooner than later he’d show you the ropes on what he knew you’d take on flawlessly.

After some time passed, a knock was heard on the door. You and your dad looking up in the direction and he called out a reply summoning them in.

It was Samantha, one of the few people you had met prior to your first day. She was the head of social media, running almost every WWE outlet on the internet. She gladly welcomed you, expressing her excitement for the day she got to make a post about you officially joining the company.

“Hey you, it’s your big day!” She congratulated with an embrace that you were incredibly grateful for.

“I’m so nervous. Promise me you won’t post my promo if I botch it?” You said half jokingly, but the fear was still obvious behind your eyes.

“You’re not going to botch it, trust me. Your dad told me you’ve been rehearsing it like every day.” She insisted, waving off your self doubts.

Paul rose his hands in defense, catching your half hearted glare you shot him.

“You know it by heart, but you also know how to make it feel natural and real, which is the most important part.”

Sam nodded her head in agreement, rubbing your arm up and down encouragingly before you plopped back down on the couch. She made her way towards your dad, holding out the reserved social media phone, linked to all of Triple H’s platforms, and displayed the post for one of their social media uploads.

“Speaking of important, I’m going to send out the tweet about the special announcement from your twitter account then I’ll retweet and quote from the company’s main account,” She explained, watching Paul scan through the text before giving an approving nod.

“Send it out.” He gave his approval and Sam promptly hit post, checking out the numbers already begin to fly through the notification tab just a few seconds later.

She looked over at you, shooting you a thumbs up, “You’re going to break the internet tonight, for all good reasons.”

You said your goodbyes to her, checking the time on your phone realizing that doors would open any minute now and time would surely pass faster than you’d like before it was showtime. Your hair and makeup was already done, needing just a little more of hairspray and a reapplication of lip-gloss.

“I should probably get changed, right?” You looked up at your dad who nodded and did some typing on his phone before standing up and strolling over to where you tried to relax your nerves.

“Go get changed and shake out your bones. I’ll meet you out in the ring, okay?” He spoke gingerly, slinging his arm across your shoulders, giving you a loving shake—the same one he always gave you when you needed the push.

“You sure you don’t want to go over it again?” You stared up at him, eyes wide with fret.

He shook his head, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

“I don’t want you to psych yourself out. You know it well and how to make it yours…that’s more than enough.”

He sent you on your way, but of course not without a request for your ‘personal assistant’ to follow you along. In actuality, it was his personal assistant, a sweet guy named Eddie who you had met times before—sometimes even the one picking up your phone calls to your dad when he was busy in meetings and talent relation.

“Ms. Levesque, your dress has been pressed and ironed. Would you like to change into it now?”

Eddie spoke with an exaggerated English accent, making you crack a laugh, shaking your head and taking the garment from where he held it out to you.

“The English would throw scones at you, you know?” You looked over at him, unzipping the plastic covering to inspect the dress you had picked out for the occasion.

You went simple, but something that still felt like you. A black sleeveless mock neck fitted dress that fell mid-thigh which you were going to pair with a red heels to signify your debut on Raw. Your mother had helped you pick it out a few weeks back and even left a special note strung around the hanger reading:

“Good luck on your first day, sweetie! Kill it and make her-story! - With love, mom”

Eddie snickered, easing up in your presence thankful that you weren’t so intimidating like your father. But Paul wasn’t all that bad. If anything he was the most decent employer he’d ever had, there just were a lot of expectations when it came to making sure the guy wasn’t under too much stress after his heart surgery.

“The dress totally breaks dress code, by the way. If this were any other company, you’d get a warning for indecency.” Eddie shook his head with a faux unimpressed frown on his face.

“Well by all means, let the slut shaming begin.” You giggled, wiggling your shoulders with a shimmy.

He scoffed begrudgingly, opening the bathroom door for you to head inside while he waited outside the door watching for any onlookers.

Fans had already begun finding their way to their seats while the crew finished setting up all the hard cameras and getting the visual prepped for the new graphics that would be displayed when your theme song hit.

Not only were the fans curious of Triple H’s special announcement, but so were the superstars who were caught off guard when producers went around letting everyone know that they would be up on stage for the broadcast.

Seth finished up in catering, making his way towards the nearest bathroom in order to douse his hair with some water prior to changing into his gear for the night. To his surprise, Triple H’s personal assistant Eddie was standing watch outside the door, prompting him to stop just a few feet away.

“Occupado?” Seth sought, to which Eddie nodded with a tight smile. “A quick outfit change,” He informed the superstar.

Seth assumed it was Paul, getting ready ahead of the big announcement. Lately the company had been on fire with him now in charge, giving all the superstars the work environment and creative freedom that they had been dying for. If it was something as big as a surprise that left talent in the dark, then it must have been legit.

The door pulled open from the inside and you fluffed your hair, striking a silly pose as you leaned against the doorframe. The two men turned their attention to you—Eddie bursting out into laughter, while Seth attempted to stifle his own.

“How do I look—oh! sorry, were you waiting long?” You immediately moved out of the way, an embarrassed red flush coming over your cheeks.

Seth shook his head and smiled, looking you up and down, “Nah, you’re fine. You look good by the way.”

“Thanks,” you smiled shyly, glancing over at Eddie who rose his brow at you, holding his arms out to take your folded clothing you once wore.

“Ready to go?” He asked, and you nodded, smoothing out your dress.

“Ready as ever.” You took a deep breath.

You timidly waved bye to Seth, keeping close to Eddie’s side trying to stay out of everyone’s way who were rushing through the halls trying to get ready for the show. Seth chuckled to himself, still wondering what your role was—editor? personal assistant? Surely, he’d find out soon enough.

“You’re going to do great, sucker-punch,” The country twang belonged to none other than Shawn Michaels who reassured you through the loud crowd roaring past the concrete walls.

He was your godfather and one of your dad’s bestest friends in the entire world who had come all the way to watch your big debut. He had been a constant in your life since you were a baby, and it was nice to have another father figure you could look up to, let alone work with down at NXT before your dad thought you were finally ready for the big leagues.

“I just wanna go over it again,” you took a deep breath rubbing your hands together nervously, and he nodded letting you go through the motions with him, “When I step out I pause for a few seconds then the cameras will follow behind me until I get through gorilla position?”

“Exactly that. The hard camera down the ramp will catch the first sight of you. Pause on your mark for a few seconds and when it feels right meet your dad in the ring.”

It was about the hundredth time you asked someone for clarification on the simple segment, but in your defense you were new to all of this and no matter how much confidence you had, you surely didn’t want to screw it up.

“We’re live in a minute and thirty.” The crew called out, making their final adjustments to their equipment.

Shawn gave you a pat on the knee.

“Trust yourself, you got this.”

You flashed him a nervous smile, nodding your head before he shut the limousine door shut, walking out of camera frame to watch from the sidelines.

“Places people!” You heard the crew shout, a stagehand counting down as the limo slowly began to drive forward just in time.

The superstars were lined up on stage, a mixture of Raw and SmackDown superstars in attendance for the special program. Triple H had kicked off the show, making his entrance through the sea of talent before getting into the ring mic in hand.

“I know all of you are wondering what my special announcement is…” He began, and the fans cheered loudly, chanting “yes!”

Paul nodded his head, pacing around the ring coolly, “WWE has entered a new era. And I am flattered to say that all of you have coined it the Paul Levesque Era, though I find it to be a little unoriginal I might say.” He joked lightly, giving the fans and talent a light-hearted laugh.

“But in all seriousness, my era had begun long ago when I forged NXT and cradled it like a baby until it learned how to walk on its own and give all of you some of the most talented and athletic superstars, some of which are standing on that very stage because of their own destiny to be here.”

He slung his arms over the ropes, jutting his chin out in respect to many of the talent whom he had the honor of working with since the beginning of their careers back in NXT, when no one realized what a monumental period it would be for them.

“Which brings me to my very special announcement. You see, I didn’t get here by not taking risks, by playing it safe and going for the sure plan. No, I got here because I see potential, and I am willing to put my money and reputation on the line to carry out the potential I see and make them stars.”

His words were partly a shoot, all the talent and fans aware of the heat that he had faced in the past from wrestling outlets who scrutinized his choices for prioritizing NXT instead of the main roster at the time.

“But I’ve always seen potential when it comes to one particular person. Someone who I think is not just riskier than me, but always takes the long shot, not for praise or notoriety, but because they know in their heart and soul that they can, and when they do, they will succeed.”

“It’s the kind of trait that is rare. One that few possess in this lifetime, which is why it is imperative to me that this individual gets a shot to show it to you themselves…” He gestured up to the titantron where a camera scurried behind a stretch limousine.

You sat back against the leather, doing your best to keep down the nerves as they rolled the live cameras. The driver came to a smooth stop, placing the vehicle in park before making their way out to open your door, allowing you enough space to stick your foot out first.

There was no turning back now. Everything that you had rehearsed and played over and over again in your head was being worked out on live television for all the fans sitting in attendance to see and more startling, the million watching at home to view.

You breathed in the foreign city air, taking it all in before your heels clicked against the concrete, the feeling of the crew trailing behind your every move. The voice in your head reminded you to keep up with the strides—everything from the talk and the walk, made your character and even now when the fans didn’t know your name or face, they could still understand you meant business just by the way you portrayed yourself.

The closer you got to gorilla, the louder the fans got and the realer it all felt. There was little time for you to acknowledge the crew of producers in gorilla, too busy keeping yourself together as your fingertips swept the curtains to the side and before you know it, your music blasted through the building.

Without needing to be told, the superstars split into halves once more, making way for the mystery woman to hit center mark and there the fans finally got to see who it was. Your name lit up on the big screen — the last name alone evoking ovations that were louder than you imagined you’d ever get.

You smirked, holding back on letting the happiness seep completely through. Making your way towards the ring after pausing for the hard camera, your father walked out towards the apron, holding on a hand for you to take before opening the ropes for you to step through.

He handed you a mic, your music slowly dying giving the fans a chance to settle their cheers so you could speak.

“My, my, my, you sure do know how to make a girl feel extra special on her Raw debut,” You charmed the crowd, looking around the stadium full of fans who were on their feet.

“My father Triple H told me that you all are some of the most electrifying fans in the entire world and I can confidently say that he wasn’t kidding.” You looked over towards your dad, who grinned and clapped for you.

“Now I know my presence may come as a surprise, but I can assure you all that I do not mean to do any harm. In fact, my dad is still the big boss around here, but he did mention needing a little bit of help running the place, and I figured with my history and family name I might as well take a shot and give it a go?”

Again the crowd erupted in cheers, happy to see the legends lineage continuing with a new generation that would surely take after her father’s creative outlook.

“You see, I’ve watched this company thrive and flourish into a league of its own. But I’ve also watched it slip through the cracks and make mistakes that would have never happened under my watch. The evolution of this company lies within the palm of my hands and I will not let the slip-ups of the past come in the way of me fulfilling the prophecy of taking this company to new heights.”

You pointed to the stage, where the superstars looked rather impressed by your words.

“So please join me in ushering in the Levesque Era.” You stared into the hard camera with a broad smile, dropping the mic as your music hit once more.

Your father lifted your arm up, circling around every side of the ring, pointing at you proudly, cherishing the moment. He helped you out of the ring, hooking your arm through his as you two walked up the ramp. A few talents exchanging gracious smiles with you as you brushed past them and headed towards the back.

“Holy shit!” You screeched, finally breaking character and covering your face in elation.

Your dad immediately pulled you into a hug, giving you your first pat on your back with the company. It was safe to say he was way more emotional than you, happiness seeping out in tears of joy, while you still struggled to fathom the paradigm shift of your career.

“Now that’s how you deliver your first promo, sucker-punch.” Shawn snuck up from behind you, pulling you into a proud hug making you laugh.

Gorilla quickly began filling with the superstars, heading backstage before the first match started. A bunch of them stuck around to get a turn to meet you, or as they nicknamed you, the ‘heiress’ which you found comical.

You stuck around for a good chunk of the show, keeping your dad company where he sat at the monitors, now and then turning to you as he showed you a few of the different aspects that he handled on live shows. Surely you would eventually get a thorough rundown of future tasks, but your dad wanted you to focus on being a part of the creative team and main roster.

Towards the ending of the show, you parted ways with your dad saying goodbye to him as he would be staying a few hours after holding some meetings with the crew while you got to get some much needed rest at the hotel.

Strolling down to your office, you were stopped by a blonde woman excited to meet you. You had recognized her immediately—Renee Young who was a backstage interviewer.

“Oh, it’s so nice to meet you!” You bubbled, sticking your hand out to introduce yourself.

She beamed, shaking her head at you with astonishment, “The second you came out, I knew immediately, like, ‘this has to me Paul’s daughter’ and then when you started speaking…” she paused, eyes widening as you giggled, “I was like ‘yeah, this is Paul and Steph’s daughter!’ it comes to you so naturally!”

“Thank you so much, you have no idea what that means to me,” You said thankfully opening your arms and pulling her into a small but mighty hug, “I was honestly so nervous, I’m surprised I didn’t croak out there.”

Renee shook her head, resting a warm hand on your shoulder. “You did amazing, and you’re only going to get better the more you do it.”

You and her chit-chatted for a couple of minutes before a male figure strolled up to her side, slinging his arm around her tenderly. She looked up at him, patting his chest and pointing to you.

“Nice first impression you’re sending to our future boss,” she joked, making you giggle.

He looked at you, realization crossing over his face and he swiftly stuck out a hand towards you.

“Shit, I’m Dean. Sorry m’all sweaty. Just finished a match and all.”

You shook your head, reassuring him as you shook his hand.

“Don’t worry about throwing me off. I personally think the whole wrestler's dress code thing is dumb. I’ve seen your stuff on TV a bunch before…great match by the way.”

“Oh thanks,” He nodded with a grin, happy that you weren’t on the uptight side of the company.

You learned that Dean and Renee had been together for years, tying the knot in secrecy a few years ago at their home in Nevada. Your father had worked closely with them before their debut on the main roster—Dean working in FCW before it became NXT, and Renee starting backstage at developmental before your dad requested to have her brought up to be an addition to the crew.

“Mr. Monday Night!” Renee hollered, looking past you towards the figure who was strolling down the hallway.

You turned your head over your shoulder, smiling at the man who came closer immediately taking notice of you. This time around he was dressed in gear, his match for the night already wrapped, and he was heading to the locker rooms to get changed.

“Hey you,” you grinned, sharing a knowing, playful look with Seth that Renee and Dean couldn’t decipher.

Your eyes twinkled with amusement and his face held a mischievous smile that tugged at the corners of his lips.

“Have I seen you around before?” Seth joked, raising a brow at you suspiciously.

Your shoulders rose with a casual shrug, your hands plopping into your lap as you both burst into laugher, echoing in the halls. There was an ease to you both, the kind that made you forget all about the nervousness that you felt at the beginning of the night when scripts scattered across the same ground you both stood on.

“How was my first day?” You proposed, anticipating what he had to say.

“I’m still recovering after butchering my first encounter with the leading lady herself…” Seth admitted, rubbing at his chest sheepishly, sucking in a sharp breath, “but you killed it…you are a complete natural, Ms. Levesque.” He emphasized your last name with a playful smirk.

You nodded thankfully, before waving your hands in the air a kind of tender scolding at the formalness.

“Please, the only people who call me that are people who are afraid of my dad.”

“Ms. Levesque…”

You turned your head toward the familiar voice. Eddie who stood off to the side with your bags and luggage in hand. The three broke into laughter at his formal address towards you, aware that it was merely out of respect, but perhaps also a touch of intimidation by your father.

“We have a car out back ready to take you back to the hotel. All your belongings are here.” Eddie informed you.

You nodded, smiling gratefully at him for going out of his way to carry out a kind gesture like that. Sure, it was probably at your father’s request, but Eddie knowing you for as long as he did, knew you would refuse any kind of help if he didn’t do it himself.

“It was nice meeting you guys…and you again, Mr. Monday Night.” You twiddled your fingers in a playful wave.

“See you around soon,” Seth chuckled, giving you a warm smile that lingered as you walked away.

You took hold of your bags, Eddie rolling your luggage behind him as he lead you to the parking garage where the driver was waiting.

“You two know each other?” Dean rose his brows, looking closely at his friend.

“Barely. I just ran into her before the show and thought she was on the crew.” Seth explained, his eyes still following you as you walked further down the hall.

“She didn’t introduce herself?” Dean pressed, curiosity evident in his voice.

“She did,” Seth looked over back at the pair, “She just left out her last name.”

“Probably didn’t want to be the center of attention.” Renee suspected with a shrug, turning her attention back to Dean and their plans for the rest of the night.

Seth watched you stop a few feet down the hall to shake hands with a few of the crew and members of creative. Your smile was warm and genuine as you quickly said your thank you’s for their kind words and wished them a goodnight. Finally, you were ushered down another turn, disappearing from his view.

He could get used to having you around. He just wondered if you would get used to being the shiny new star in their world.

💌 reblogs, tags, comments, + likes are greatly appreciated! leave a comment and let me know if want to be added to my taglist!! 💌

a/n: if you made it this far, i hope you liked chapter one of icsy!!! i truly had the best time writing this chapter and i feel like you guys are going to love whats to come! perhaps seth and reader are masterminds to their very core huh? we'll find out soon enough!!!

[55sturn]

✮ WISH YOU’D LET ME STAY

pairing: fwb!matt sturniolo x fem!reader

synopsis: in which matt and y/n have a complicated relationship, they label it friends with benefits, but deep down they both know it’s much more than that.

warnings: swearing, partying, mentions of alcohol + drugs, alcohol + drug consumption, mentions & allusions to smut, possessive!matt, jealous!reader, jealous!matt, verbal arguments, mentions of physical fights & injuries [descriptions of blood].

THIRD PERSON POV

the first thing anyone will tell you when considering a friends with benefits situation, is to not pursue it with a close friend. the second thing they tell you, don’t enter any emotional territory. do not get to know the person outside of what they like in the bedroom. that’s why people opt for an acquaintance that they are comfortable with but don’t have a tight-knit bond with. if you decide to pick up a friends with benefits situation with someone you’re comfortable with but don’t know much about, you don’t end up seeing them as someone more than who you’re having sex with, you don’t start to feel guilty when the inevitable happens.

what is the inevitable you ask?

someone is bound to catch feelings.

sex is rather intimate, for the most part. you see someone in their most vulnerable, most bare state. and it’s rare for someone to be vulnerable nowadays, to see someone bare their entire being is incredibly special.

so to pursue that with a close friend, it’s dangerous. because the intimacy of the bond changes, slowly but surely it begins to manifest into something more than just sex. it becomes more than just two people using each other to get off. it becomes something special, where you learn more than just surface level stuff about your best friend. you do not only get to be there for them and make them feel good emotionally, you get to do it physically.

and that is what slowly morphs the reality of what you’re doing.

so when matt and y/n decided to take up a friends with benefits situation, they ignored the warnings from those they confided in. they were adamant that they weren’t going to let it ruin the friendship. they were so sure it wasn’t going to be another cliche that is seen in movies that they had even said the infamous last words.

“if things get to be too much, we stop and stay friends. we’re not gonna let this wreck the friendship we have.”

and they wholeheartedly believed themselves for the first four weeks after their initial agreement. they had been hooking up almost daily without spending too much time with one another once they had both cum, but silently, over time, things became much more difficult. feelings started to arise and were getting harder and harder to ignore they longer they spent in each other’s beds after many hours of exploring each others bodies with their hands, eyes, and mouths.

matt knew from the get-go that partaking in this type of relationship with y/n was going to end badly, given the fact that he’s secretly harboured feelings for the girl since middle school. he figured if he couldn’t be her boyfriend, he could at least be the person she turned to when she was insatiably horny.

and y/n knew she was emotionally fucked from the last time they hooked up. it was the first time she had genuinely kissed matt for the sole reason of just wanting to feel him close. she normally kissed him because she wanted to get to the point of them being locked away in some room. but that fourth hook up had changed things for her.

it didn’t help that hooking up had changed the way they hung out with each other. from careful and safe physical interaction came pointed, comfortable teasing and flirting. they figured that physical affection shown in the same way couples would show it, was acceptable given the fact that they were fucking on the low.

it also didn’t help that matt would say the sweetest things to her during and after sex, his words would have her heart swelling and melting, and the pet names he used would have her feeling like a schoolgirl sitting beside her crush. and the fact that y/n would always have a change of clothes laid out for matt to change into after sex and showering so that he could feel comfortable, and the fact that she always made sure to bring him water and food after they cleaned made him feel butterflies swirling in the pit of his stomach. he knew that y/n’s main love language was acts of service, so for her to show that to him considering she didn’t show it to people she wasn’t extremely comfortable or close with, had him questioning if maybe his feelings weren’t unreciprocated.

FLASHBACK

y/n smiled at matt as made his way into her apartment after she buzzed him up. the two of them had hooked up earlier that day but matt was bored out of his mind at home alone after chris and nick had gone to some random ass party. so he shot y/n a quick text that read “buzz me up in 15.” and she happily obliged.

“hey, need your dick sucked again?” she laughed as she made her way to her couch, tucking her legs beneath her body as she sat down. if she had known matt was coming back over, she would’ve put more effort into her outfit. she definitely wouldn’t have worn a ratty college t-shirt that she had bought from urban outfitters and something prettier than a plain black thong.

“nah, nick and chris went out and i didn’t feel like going to a party so i decided i’d come over.”

“i just figured you needed something, yknow, sexual.” she teased as she tossed him the remote, letting him pick the show to movie for the night.

“that’s not the only reason i come over, y’know.”

“i know, it’s just been the only reason we’ve seen each other lately.”

“i know and i feel like a douche about it.”

“nah it’s okay matt, i promise.”

the two fell into a comfortable silence, the only sounds being the tv that played the office and their occasional laughs as they quoted the show. the two had gradually gotten physically closer as the night progressed, ending with y/n sitting with her head on matt’s chest as they watched tv. but eventually, matt had to leave after chris called him about fifteen times, both he and nick completely shitfaced, and they need a ride home.

so when matt solemnly got up to leave, she did as well so she could walk him to the door, what happened next left them both questioning their feelings for the first time.

“okay text me when you get home so i know you made it.”

“of course pretty girl, can’t have you spending all your time worrying.” matt laughed as he slipped into his shoes. y/n rolled her eyes and leaned up, pressing a quick kiss to matt’s lips, pulling away before he could reciprocate it.

“fuck i’m sorry.”

“it’s okay but i should go.” matt spoke quickly, briskly turning to the door and walking out, letting it shut softly before standing outside her door, his chest rising and falling quite quickly as he processed what happened.

he knew it wasn’t rare for them to kiss but what was rare was them kissing without it leading to sex.

the two slowly began to pull away, spending more time lost in their own minds instead of lost between each other’s sheets.

FLASHBACK OVER

as y/n made her way through the crowds of people littered around the rented out mansion, she sighed sadly. she had been looking for her favourite triplets, needing to get drunk with nick for the first time in months but she hadn’t been able to find them. nick said that they were planning on showing up, and if they were there, they had done a good job of not wanting to be spotted. however she figured matt was the reason behind that.

ever since their accidental kiss, matt hadn’t reached out to her asking her to come over to his place or asking if he could go over to hers. it had been completely silent between the two of them.

y/n had felt like she’d appear clingy or desperate if she texted him first, and matt felt like he’d come off as a complete douchebag if he asked to fuck after their accidental kiss, so he settled for using his own hand and her pictures.

y/n had tried getting off on her own but it was to no avail each time, and she didn’t really like the idea of reaching out after kissing him unexpectedly so she suffered in silence. but tonight, she decided she was going to go home with someone new, she was sexually blocked and she needed to forget about matt for a little while. she figured that the radio silence between them meant that their little situation was over.

as if on cue, she felt someone tap her shoulder, turning she was met with the most gorgeous brown eyes she’s ever seen.

“hey i’m jake, i noticed you earlier and i’ve been working up the courage to talk to you because i think you’re the prettiest girl here.” he smiled, his cheeks were dusted a deep pink as he shyly met her eyes.

“i’m y/n, and thank you.” she giggled, sticking out her hand for him to shake. the two spent a few minutes talking, getting to briefly know each other before one of her favourite songs came on.

“wanna dance with me? please? i love this song!”

“how can i say no when you asked so nicely.” jake flirted, making y/n giggle and roll her eyes as she dragged him to the middle of the makeshift dance floor. she pressed her back against his chest, slowly grinding and swaying her hips against, letting the tension and friction slowly build as his hands roamed her sides. she leaned her head back against his shoulder, turning to face him, pressing her lips against his. the two of them losing themselves in a heated make-out, unaware of the eyes burning holes into the side of jake’s head.

matt watched the scene unfold with a disgruntled expression, his eyes narrowing as y/n pulled away from the random guy, wiping her lip with her thumb. matt felt his anger build as she turned to fully face him, leaning back in to kiss him again, and before matt knew it, he was charging to the unsuspecting pair.

without a moment’s hesitation, matt ripped jake off of her, whipping the stranger around to face him as he pulled back his fist, letting it fly forward with as much power as he could muster. jake dropped to floor in a crumpled heap as matt loomed over him, ready to keep punching until the guy was nothing but a bloody mess but y/n’s hand wrapping around his bicep, her nails digging into his exposed flesh had him stopping. however jake had other plans as he stood up, cocking back his fist and swinging, clipping matt in the jaw hard enough to make matt bite his tongue which drew blood.

matt was quick to rip his arm out of y/n’s grip, quickly delivering blow and blow to jake’s abdomen, making the six foot something guy quickly double over, giving matt the opportunity to punch him square in the nose, which left jake curled up on the floor.

“you better stay the fuck away from her, you hear me?” matt seethed, spitting out blood on the floor beside jake’s curled up body.

matt’/ chest slowly starts heaving as y/n tears him away from the crowd, toward the deck. as they stand outside, away from prying ears, y/n paces slowly, her face in her hands as she shakes her head. looking up at matt, a blank expression covers her face.

“matt what the actual fuck is wrong with you? what was that?” she spits, unable to wrap her head around matt’s behaviour.

“i didn’t like seeing him all over you like that.”

“why?“

“because you’re mine!”

“excuse me? you’re the one that ghosted me out of fucking nowhere because i fucking kissed you! it wasn’t the first time we’ve kissed so i don’t understand why you pulled away matt.” she replies, a dry and bitter laugh following.

“so me ignoring you for a couple days gives you the right to throw yourself at anything with a dick?” matt spits out, rolling his eyes at her reaction.

“what the fuck is your problem?” she scoffs, her chest heaving slowly as she steps toward him, getting ready to slap the smug look off his face.

“you are! you fucking kissed me. you made me fall in love with you. you have taken over every single fucking inch of my brain, of my fucking room, of my entire life! you are everywhere and i can’t fucking breathe without smelling your perfume on my sheets, on my clothes, everywhere in my fucking room. you are lingering everywhere in my life and i’m so sick of it because i am so fucking helplessly in love with you and i have been since we were in middle school. and i thought that being fuck buddies would help that feeling go away. i thought that if i had even a little bit of you, i would see what it’s like and i would be able to move on. but it didn’t work, it made me go absolutely fucking crazy over you, y/n because i don’t know what you feel, so that’s my problem. you are my fucking problem.” matt yells, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he realizes he just confessed his love for her.

“you’re such a fucking idiot, matt.” she rolls her eyes, roughly gripping the collar of his muscle shirt, yanking him towards her and pressing her lips against his. his hands immediately find her waist and he tugs her impossibly close as he hands move up to either side of his neck.

“i love you matt, you dumbass, i have for years.”

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[tikosblogg]

A Helping Hand Pt 2.

Part 1 Here

Summary: Noah ghosts you, so you decide to find someone else to help you out. Until…

Warning: SMUT. PIV sex. Rough sex, Virginity loss, Dom!noah, sub!reader, unprotected sex(a big no no), TINY bit of degradation, spanking.

A/N: ya’ll…..I ain’t even gonna lie….i got carried away there…but I love this one. I did good with this one if I do say so myself! I hope you guys like it just as much!!❤️ not proof read I apologize it’s once again 2AM🥹

It’s been a whole week since I’ve seen or spoken to Noah. We had exchanged numbers before he left my apartment that night. Claiming he would talk to me soon. yet it’s been nothing but radio silence. I decided to not tell my friends, since Noah obviously changed his mind about the whole thing. I didn’t want to be hammered with questions, or it was embarrassing enough that I was ghosted I didn’t wanna talk about it. So I just stayed quiet. The girls were invited to one of the campus frat parties tonight, and asked me to come a long. Since it was a Friday, and I had no other plans I decided to go.

We got ready, and headed to the fraternity house. Once we get there, the house is packed, over flowing with drunk and rowdy college kids. The music is so loud it shook the entire house. We got our drinks, and socialized with other people just having a good time. After about an hour, I excused myself from the group of people we were talking to, to grab another drink.

As I stood at the makeshift bar in the cramped kitchen, the deafening bass of the music thudded around me. People were laughing, shouting, and stumbling through the narrow hallways, creating an adrenaline-fueled chaos that was just the kind of distraction I needed after a week of nothing from Noah. I thought we had shared a spark, a connection so intense that I could still feel the electricity humming in my veins, but it felt like I had been left hanging in the void since he walked out of my apartment that night.

"Hey there, beautiful," a voice interrupted my thoughts, making me jump. I turned around to see a guy standing there, blonde tousled hair, twinkling blue eyes, and a smile that instantly disarmed me. “I’m Jake. What’s your name?”

“Y/n,” I replied, trying to appear casual even though my stomach flipped. I couldn’t help but notice how he leaned in closer as he spoke, filling the space between us with an undeniable tension.

“Nice to meet you, y/n. You know, you might just be the most gorgeous person in this whole room,” he said, his voice dripping with charm. I felt my cheeks flush ,it had been a while since someone had directed attention toward me like that, other than Noah of course. “What brings you here?”

“Just hanging out with some friends,” I said, glancing over at Layna and Clara, who were busy talking and flirting with a group of guys. “What about you?”

“Same. Just trying to find a reason to stick around this party.” He smirked, leaning on the counter beside me. “I’d say I found it.”

His confidence was intoxicating. I couldn’t shake the memories of Noah's smile and tender words, but part of me wondered if maybe Jake could provide a nice distraction.

I hesitated, thinking about how Noah had claimed he'd “talk to me soon”. The weight of that silence felt almost like a betrayal. I could feel Jake’s gaze sharpening, as if he read the conflict in my eyes. “Why don’t we grab a drink somewhere quieter?” he suggested, the invitation both thrilling and terrifying.

“Sure.” I decided then and there to let go of Noah's lingering presence. Maybe I was being impulsive, but I was tired of waiting for someone who had left me hanging. Besides, a one night stand sounds like exactly what I need.

Jake led me out of the chaotic kitchen, through the crowded living room, and up the stairs into a random bedroom. The bass was muffled here, allowing us space to talk without shouting. I took a seat on the neatly made bed, finally allowing my guard to drop a little. I looked around the room, the lighting a dull blue color from the LEDs hung around the ceiling. In front of the bed against the wall, was a desk with an expensive looking PC set up. Lastly to my right, was a sliding closet door, that doubled as a mirror, the entire length of the wall.

I looked back at Jake his body language was confident as he walked closer, taking a seat beside me. drawing me in with his lively aura and unyielding charm.

We talked for a few minutes, his hand sliding up my bare thigh, inching closer and closer to the hem of my blue Jean skirt. He started to lean forward Until the bedroom door slammed open, making us jump apart.

Noah stood there, his silhouette framed in the doorway, a furious glint in his eyes that pierced through the dimness. The atmosphere shifted, the warmth between Jake and me evaporating like fog.

“Get the fuck out.” Noah’s voice was low, and dangerous. He shifted his weight, fists clenched at his sides, and his stance radiated authority. It was the kind of rage that felt palpable, as if it could reach out and strangle one of us, and from the looks of it… it would be Jake.

Jake sprang to his feet, a defiant smirk tugging at his lips despite the tension. “I’m busy, man. Why don’t you find another room?” He gestured dismissively.

Noah took a daunting step closer, towering over Jake, his presence like a shadow looming over us. “This is my room, dickhead. Get the fuck out.” His voice cut like glass—sharp, brittle, and full of anger.

“Whatever,” Jake countered, shaking his head as he rolled his eyes, a flicker of nerves darting beneath his bravado. His gaze moved to me, encouraging me to follow him, to leave Noah’s fury behind. But the moment my ass left the mattress, his hard gaze reached mine.

“Sit down,” Noah growled, his tone turning as fierce as a thunderstorm. Alarm, mixed with curiosity coursed through me as I complied instinctively, my heart racing. There was something possessive in his eyes, something primal, and it sent a shiver rippling through me. My cheeks flushed crimson, a rush of embarrassment kindling between the anger and the flickering desire I thought I had just moments before.

Jake grimaced, clearly irritated, and I could see the tension rippling across his shoulders like a taut bowstring. “Fuck that! She’s with me!” There was an edge to his voice as he shot a defiant glare at Noah, stepping forward, seeming ready for a confrontation.

Before I could register what was happening, Noah harshly shoved Jake out of the room almost effortlessly, his strength undeniable. “Not anymore.” The door slammed shut, the finality of it echoing like a gunshot in the suddenly quiet space.

I sat there, heart pounding as the silence enveloped me. It felt so wrong but so thrilling at the same time—the unyielding power Noah had in that moment, the way he took control without hesitation. I could hear Jake’s frustrated mutters on the other side of the door, mixed with the still pounding bass of the music being played throughout the house, but it faded into white noise, overtaken by the thumping of my heart and the electric tension hanging between Noah and me.

Noah turned to me slowly, his expression softening just a fraction. “Are you okay?” His voice lowered, a flicker of concern breaking through the anger.

“I... I’m fine,” I stammered, grappling for something to steady my racing thoughts. But my gaze fell to the floor, unable to meet his intense stare.

He stepped closer, the space left between us melting away like ice in the sun. “You know he doesn’t care about you, right?” His voice was firm, and there was something heartfelt buried in the fierce facade.

I glanced up, the conflict swirling inside me, a humorless laugh leaving my mouth. “Oh and you do?” I couldn’t believe what was coming out of his mouth. Yet, I couldn’t ignore, the way my skin prickled with anticipation.

His brow furrowed slightly, confusion knitted with concern as he sought my eyes. “What do you mean? Of course I do.”

The sincerity in his words throbbed in the air, making the small room feel larger, the weight of his gaze pulling me in. I took a deep breath, drowning in the torrent of emotions swirling around us. Noah stepped closer, and the walls felt like they were closing in, the space between us charged with something unnameable.

“Oh so that’s why you completely disappeared on me?” I hissed, hurt overshadowing any anger I felt. “You said you were gonna help me out, and then just left me hanging! So I went found someone else, so what?” I glared at him, as he just stood there silently.

His expression shifted. At first, it was just surprise, but as I spoke, a spark of annoyance flickered in his eyes. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the door. “So that’s what this is about? You’re such a desperate whore, you couldn’t go a few days without me? You had to find some stupid dickhead to replace me?”

His words hung in the air, taunting and challenging me. I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of my own admission suffocate my pride. Any other time, I would punch a guy for calling me such a degrading name, but coming from Noah’s lips…it only made me want to completely submit to him. Fall to my knees, and let him do whatever he wanted to with me. My self respect has left the chat.

Before I could respond, he reached behind him locking the door. The sound reverberated in my chest, both thrilling and foreboding. “It’s pathetic actually…You really think anyone else will make you feel as good as I do?”

Noah stepped closer, invading my space, and suddenly the atmosphere was full of suffocating tension. A tension that crackled between us, charging the air with an unmistakable heat. We were almost chest to chest—his breath mingling with the faint scent of his cologne lingering on his skin. I could feel the warmth radiating from his body, pulling me in like gravity.

Time felt suspended as he scrutinized my face, searching for honesty in my eyes. And then, without warning, his hand shot up, gripping my throat with a gentleness that belied his strength. I felt my heart race. I was trapped yet electrified; a paradox I could hardly understand.

“Say it,” he demanded, his voice low and steady, sending shivers down my spine. “Admit that you don’t want me to fuck you.”

The words hung thickly in the air, woven through my thoughts like a tangled cord. I wanted to deny it—to hold onto the shreds of my resolve. But the truth was there, dancing just out of reach. I could feel the heat pooling in the pit of my stomach, the yearning I had buried beneath annoyance and pride.

I opened my mouth to speak, but the words caught in my throat. I wanted to hate him for making me feel this way, for ghosting me, and for showing up like this with his magnetic pull. But I couldn’t shake the undeniable truth every second we stood here only deepened my desire for him.

His grip tightened slightly, pulling me closer to him. “You can’t lie to me,” he breathed, his eyes locked onto mine, dark and smoldering. “You want me…not him.”

A shaky breath escaped me, and I finally nodded, barely able to speak. “I—” I faltered, not wanting to make the admission, but it was too late. The warmth of his body pressed against mine ignited everything I had been trying to suppress, and I was suffocated by the truth.

He leaned closer, his lips brushing against mine. “Say it.”

A rush of vulnerability flooded through me, and I broke. “I want you to fuck me.” The admission slipped from my lips, both thrilling and terrifying.

Noah’s grip loosened, just enough for me to feel the shift as he realized the power he held. The annoyance morphed into a smirk as he stepped back, putting space between us but retaining an air of challenge.

“Was that so hard?” he asked, that familiar teasing smile, and spark in his gaze igniting a fire in my chest. “I-I’m sorry” I whimpered, not even sure what about, all I know is that I want him now, and if apologizing is what I have to do to have him, then I’ll do it a million times more.

His sheer dominance pulling me back into the orbit of his presence. In that moment, the game shifted. I was no longer the pursuer, but a willing participant in his teasing game.

I felt my heart race, a mixture of fear and exhilaration coursing through my veins as Noah’s grip on my throat loosened just enough for me to breathe but still held enough power that I didn't want to struggle.

He leaned in, finally kissing me with so much heat. The kiss was demanding, igniting a fire deep within me. I melted into the intensity, surrendering to the moment. As his hand flew into the back of my hair, pushing me down to my knees, my senses sharpened. The warmth of his presence enveloped me, and I could feel the weight of his gaze as he settled on the edge of the bed.

With one swift motion, he pulled me closer, positioning me between his thighs. His fingers tangled in my hair, a mix of lust and control flowing between us. I looked up at him, and my breath caught in my throat as our eyes locked—a swirling storm of desire and dominance mirrored in his gaze.

His thumb brushed against my bottom lip, a teasing gesture that made me whimper in response. It ignited something deep within me, a craving that begged to be satisfied. But amidst this whirlwind of emotions, he grounded me with a question that cut through the haze “What’s your safe word?”

My heart raced. The thrill was intoxicating, yet the responsibility of consenting to this moment made my body tingle with anticipation. “Red,” I breathed out, the word heavy with meaning. It was a signal of trust, a boundary I was both eager to explore and determined to protect.

Noah smiled, a predatory glint in his eyes. “Good choice.” His lips attacked mine again, before he pulled away, our lips barely brushing, his breath warm against them as he whispered, “now show me how sorry you are.”

I timidly nodded my head, before reaching for his pants pausing. I quickly looked up, nerves and insecurities suddenly filling my body. He must’ve noticed my sudden change in demeanor, as his hand softly cupped my cheek, bringing my eyes to look directly into his. “What is baby?”

His dominate aura suddenly changed, his voice now softer. His thumb rubbed against my cheek back and forth, waiting for my response. “I just- I’ve never done…” my sentence cut short, as anxiety of not being good enough entered my thoughts. His voice suddenly bringing me back to the present.

“Hey…I’ll help you..just take your time. Don’t force it okay?” I nodded, as all the bad thoughts started to slowly dissipate. I’m safe. He knows I’m new to this. This is why we are doing this. I gave myself a short pep talk, and reached for his pants again.

He slightly lifted his hips, as I dragged his pants and boxers down just enough. When is dick finally released from its confines, he sighed in relief. My eyes widened, at the sight. He was huge. I was instantly intimidated, but didn’t let it show. I carefully reached up, wrapping my hand around him, my already small hand looking even tinier compared to it.

I slowly stroked my hand, up and down his length as he groaned above me. “Fuck baby, just like that.” His praise gave me a new found confidence, as I slowly leaned down kitten licking his painfully red tip. He moaned again, his hand finding my hair once more, gripping it softly.

The sounds leaving his lips, only made me want to hear more. I opened my mouth wide, as I took him into my mouth as far as I could. Once he hit the back of my throat I hollowed my cheeks sucking softly, before dragging my lips back up. He threw his back, releasing another loud groan. “Holy fuck y/n..” I did it again, this time stroking the rest of him that my mouth couldn’t reach, with my hand.

His grip on my hair tightened, as I let him take control. I propped my hands on each of his muscular thighs, keeping my mouth hovering over his dick. In time, his hips were thrusting as he fucked my mouth.

I moaned, and gagged around him letting him use me as he pleased. My panties no doubt soaked at this point. Tears were falling down my cheeks, as he suddenly pulled my mouth off of him. With his grip still tight in my hair, he turned my face to the right. With tear filled eyes, I saw my reflection staring back at me. “Look at yourself” he hissed, his dominant side coming back out to play.

I was a mess. I had mascara streaked down my face, from my tears. My shimmery lips gloss smeared across my cheeks. My hair looked like I had walked through a wind storm….but I loved it. I felt sexy.

He pulled my face back towards him, as he leaned down shoving his tongue damn near down my throat. I whined, as I sucked his tongue softly. It drove him fucking crazy. He stood up, pulling me from the floor, and onto his bed.

When my back hit the mattress, he was on top of me instantly. He grabbed my shirt pulling it off, before basically ripping my bra from my body. Next went my skirt, and panties. Throwing them somewhere in the room, he leaned down taking my nipple in his mouth.

I gasped, as he softly sucked it while squeezing my other tit in his hand. I felt warmth spread across my skin the longer he sucked and nipped at my tits, each rough touch igniting a fire at my throbbing cunt. I shivered, turned on more than I have ever been in my life, a flush spreading across my cheeks as I caught his gaze.

Noah pulled back, his lips hovering tantalizingly close. His breath fanning my skin as he began to taunt me, his voice low and rough. “You like that baby?“ he whispered, the dominance in his voice sending shivers of anticipation down my spine. “You think he could have made you feel like this?.”

I opened my mouth to respond, to articulate the jumbled emotions swirling within me, but no words came. Instead, I shook my head slightly, my heart racing as I whimpered. He smirked, a knowing smile that made my breath hitch in my throat.

“Tell me what you want,” he demanded, his tone dropping an octave, lacing his words with a challenge. It was his way of pulling me deeper, inviting me to surrender myself completely. My mind raced through a hundred possibilities, and each one was wrapped in the comfort of him.

“You,” I managed to breathe out, the word escaping my lips like a secret.

“Good answer,” he said, his grin widening over a shared understanding. He leaned closer again, capturing my gaze with his, with a final kiss and I felt anchored, surrounded by his intensity.

He lightly drug his tongue, from between my breasts down my stomach, to the very top of my aching cunt. I groaned his name, softly bucking my hips up. He smiled, before poking his tongue out, and running slowly over my sensitive clit.

I gasped, arching my back against the mattress. My hands instantly finding his hair. “Fuck I’ve missed this pussy.” Before I could say another word, his two middle fingers sank into me. He wasted no time, pumping them hard and fast.

“Fuck Noahhhh.” I whined, as he continued his thrusts, his face coming to hover over mine. “This sweet pussy is mine, right baby? His voice still held that dominant tone, but almost sounded like a whine. Just that could have made explode, but I held back.

He snatched his fingers away, making my head shoot up in confusion, before his hand came down smacking my already throbbing pussy, with his hand. I gasped, my body tensing at the new found pleasure filling my body. “Answer me.”

He growled, shoving his fingers back into me. I nodded my head, before releasing a breathless “yes..” rutting my hips against his skilled fingers. Another smack landed on my clit, before his deep voice filled the air again. “Yes what?”

So lost in the feeling, I said the first thing that came to mind as I gasped at the sharp sting against my clit “Yessir” he smirked, sitting up on his knees. “Good girl.” His shoved his fingers into his mouth, groaning at my taste.

I whined at the loss of his touch, as he watched from above me. A cocky smirk on his face. “I’m not even touching you anymore, and you’re still going crazy for me.” I panted beneath him, meeting his dark eyes. “Please Noah…I need you.” I cried, desperately wanting to feel his touch again.

He wasted no more time, taking his shirt off and kicking his pants and underwear the rest of the way off, throwing them somewhere behind him. I marveled at his hard muscular body, completely covered in beautiful tattoos. He himself was a work of art, I couldn’t help but appreciate.

He leaned down, capturing my lips in another kiss, as we both just tasted each other. The rest of his body, lowered onto me. I widened my thighs as far as I could, so I could feel him completely. His hips bucked softly, dragging his cock through my folds at an achingly slow pace.

His lips left mine, as we both panted. He reached down, sliding an arm under the bend of my right knee pushing it up and against my chest. Spreading me open for him.

He just looked at me for a moment, trying to read my face. I quickly nodded, pulling him into a soft kiss. “Please” I whispered up at him, ready to finally feel him inside of me.

He dropped his head into the crook of my neck, leaving soft nips and kisses as he slowly pushed inside of. I groaned at the stretch, my pussy welcoming the new feeling. He groaned into my neck, the deeper he got.

Once he was completely bottomed out, he sat still. He pulled his face from my neck, the look in his eyes burning into mine. I could see the way he was fighting with himself not to lose control and fuck the shit out of me.

But I wanted him to. I loved the pleasure, and the pain that came with it. I nodded my head confidently, as his resolve started to crack. I brought his lips close to mine, brushing against them as I spoke. “Don’t hold back.”

His whole demeanor went dark, before he pulled his hips back, slamming them back against mine with a small grunt. I gasped, my nails clawing down his back. I felt so full, and never wanted to lose that feeling that only he could give me.

“You’re so fucking tight baby.” He groaned, as he continued roughly snapping his hips against mine. I whimpered, running my hands up his back and intertwining them behind his neck. He laid his forehead against mine, as we breathed each other in.

Suddenly he stopped, pulling out of me. I released a whine, at the sudden empty feeling. He grabbed my sides sliding me up to the middle of the mattress, before rolling me onto my side facing the mirror.

I was confused, before he quickly slid up behind me, pulling my body flush against his chest, and sliding back into me with a low groan. The sight was beautiful. He propped up on his elbow, so he could see over me, as his other hand grabbed my thigh lifting it up.

Holding my thigh up, gave me a clear view of his cock pumping in and out of me roughly. It was erotic, so hot. He has ruined me, in the best way possible. His eyes met mine in the mirror, as a smile slowly formed on his face. He thoroughly enjoyed the fucked out mess he saw in the mirror.

His hand that was holding my thigh, slowly slid up my body, as I kept it up myself, not wanting to lose the perfect view of him completely destroying my pussy. His hand continued its path up my body, pausing at my tit to give it a firm squeeze, before moving up again.

His large hand finally made it to its destination, firmly gripping my throat. He turned my head the slightest bit towards him, his lips brushing against my tear stained cheek as he roughly spoke. “Look how pretty you are, taking my cock like a good girl.”

Nothing but a whine of his name left my lips, too fucked out to form words. His thrusts sped up, his hips slapping against my ass, roughly. “So fucking pretty, huh? Say it.” He growled against my cheek, before turning my face back towards the mirror.

“Say it! His voice rose in volume, his thrusts never letting up. I panted, watching our bodies in the mirror, before staring myself in the face. “I’m— oh fuckkk- I’m so pretty.” I whined, as my eyes met his smirking face.

“Thats fucking right baby, my pretty little slut.” He breathed, his fingers tightening a bit more around my throat, slowing down my blood flow, making my head feel fuzzy. “ All fucking mine.” I nodded slightly the best I could, agreeing with him. Nobody would ever compare to Noah. I’ll forever be his.

After a few more rough thrusts of his hips, he pulled out again, shoving me onto my stomach, and pulling my hips up. His hand shoved my back down, making me arch my ass as high as I could. Without another word, he thrusted back into me.

His hips pounded into me, while he reached his hand around me rubbing his fingers against my clit. I pulled my face out of the sheets, catching his eyes in the mirror for the tenth time. Moaning at the sight of him. His brows were furrowed in pleasure, his face and body covered in a sheen of sweat.

His eyes blown out, almost black. His teeth caught his bottom lip, as he watched my face twist with pleasure. My jaw hung open, basically drooling. I could tell he loved the sight of me like this, which only egged him on.

“You gonna cum for me baby?” He asked, with an almost mocking tone. My eyes closed in bliss, before is other hand came down, leaving a harsh slap on my ass. My eyes shot back open, as they found the mirror again. “Fucking watch yourself. Watch yourself fall apart for me.” He grunted, as I kept my eyes on myself in the mirror.

I was a complete fucking wreck, and I loved it. His fingers pressed harder against my clit, and I felt my orgasm reaching its peak. “Fuck noah..yes yes yes please.” I cried out, as my body shook finally releasing all over him.

Noah groaned, as he continued fucking me through my high. My face fell into the mattress, as his thrusts became sloppy, finally finishing right after me. He groaned, as his hips slowly came to a stop. We were both panting loudly, as he bent forward, leaving a soft kiss on my spine.

He slowly pulled out, making me whine at the loss. I slowly turned over, both of us staring at each other before breaking into stupid smiles. I giggled as he pulled over to him, kissing my lips, nose, and forehead. He stood up, walking over to the bathroom, and grabbing a towel.

After wiping us off, he threw the towel in his hamper, and pulled on his boxers. He bent over grabbing his shirt, and walking over to me slipping it on me. I smiled, as he crawled back into bed, placing the blanket over us. I turned to face him, with a small smile. “Thank you.”

He smiled back before shaking his head. “Don’t thank me… I think we both know this was more than just me giving you a helping hand.” His hand came up, softly brushing a piece of hair from my face cupping my cheek. He leaned in placing a soft lingering kiss to my lips.

He pulled back, his thumb softly caressing my cheek. I smiled at him, softly nuzzling my face into his warm palm. He’s right. This was so much more than that….and I don’t mind it one bit.

[outsideratheart]

Can we have a snipped of your Formula 1 fic?

Here:

You see a woman walking towards you and you recognise her straight away. She was the image of a good time and lingering thoughts.

“What’s a girl like you sitting here all alone?” Alexia approaches you and confidently takes a seat opposite.

“Just admiring the view” you look her up and down.

“I heard the view is better from the dance floor” Alexia doesn’t know what comes over her as she does her best to flirt with you.

There is something about the footballer that pulls you in. Your plans of sitting in corner and watching from a distance goes out the window.

“I guess there’s only one way to find out” your playful tone makes her smile whilst she stands, holding out her hand for you to take.

“I’m Alexia” She tells you.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you” and what a pleasure it was. Alexia was more beautiful in person which you didn’t think possible.

“I don’t get to know your name?” She isn’t hurt by your reluctance, more so intrigued.

The two of you are in your own world on the dance floor but you can see Emily out of the corner of your eye, egging you on. As you dance with Alexia it isn’t messy and you’re not all over each other. The way your hips move in sync makes you feel eurphoria. Every so often Alexia would kiss you and it almost feels natural like it has happened countless times before.

You spend a couple of hours with Alexia going back and forth from the booth to the dance floor. You get to know her and she gets to know you. Your jobs are not brought up, instead you ask questions like what your favourite food is? Who is your favourite music artist? What was the last movie watched? They were normal people questions.

Her not knowing who you were meant that she had no intentions or ulterior motives.

“You’re quite the mystery”

“One that i’m sure will be revealed soon”

“Do you want to get out of here?” Alexia asks you and for the first time that night you can tell she is nervous.

“Are you asking me to go home with you?” You ask even though you know this isn’t her intention. Still you wouldn’t entirely be against the idea. You felt like you had a connection with Alexia despite only having known her for a few hours.

[flowerandblood]

Girl with a Pearl Earring

[modern! photographer • Aemond x female]

[warnings: dirty talk, domination, sexual tension, fluff]

[description: Aemond is a photographer dealing with works referring to the painting of the old masters. His sister poses in class for a girl who catches his attention. He decides that she would be a perfect model for one of his photos. Lots of sexual tension and slowly built fascination.]

Part 2 - Magdalene with the Smoking Flame

Part 3 - Ophelia

Part 4 - Lady with an Ermine

Part 5 - Rokeby Venus (End)

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

_____

It's been a long time since there was such a beautiful model in a painting class as Helaena Targaryen. With her fair, almost white hair, slender, fair face, snub nose, and blue eyes, she looked like an angel. She was able to create an amazing hairstyle with her combed braids.

The students and the professor decided to dress her in a blue gown, borrowed from costume designers from a nearby theater, in the style of seventeenth-century French fashion. Behind her was a large yellow background falling into the shade of warm gold. Even as herself, sitting half-profile towards them, she looked like a painting.

She had a great connection with her right away and they talked a lot. She knew that Helaena was the daughter of the dean of the university, a famous furniture maker and sculptor. Their entire family was famous for their strong commitment to the arts. She knew that Helaena's brother, Aemond, was in the fifth year of photography.

She was in her second year of painting and knew most of the people in his major - they often traded lecture halls - but he was always completely withdrawn. She had never seen him talk to anyone, he was always the first to leave the classroom.

Several girls from her year tried to flirt with him and get his attention, but their attempts ended in total failure. Still, she felt it wasn't fair that they were talking about him behind his back after being rejected. She tried not to express an opinion about him, because she didn't know him.

Even though it was known how Helaena got this temporary job, no one held any grudges about it because she bravely endured hours of posing without flinching. She decided to paint her portrait in the style of the Italian masters, starting with a monochromatic underpainting, applying the color with glazes in delicate layers. She was just starting to apply color to her face, making the character's face seem to emerge from the sketch around it.

The professor called a break and everyone got up to stretch a bit. Helaena stepped down from the platform and approached her, wanting to see how she was doing, as usual. She was delighted to see that the work was slowly moving to an advanced stage.

"What you do is amazing. You have real talent!” She said with her hand over her heart, playing with the chain. She smiled warmly at her.

They were talking for a while about ways of painting and different types of portraits when suddenly Aemond entered their room. He was looking for his sister with his eye, and when he saw her he walked towards her, greeting only the professor on the way.

"Ah, Aemond, thank you." Helaena said as he handed her apparently her own phone. "I had completely forgotten about him. Come closer, do you want to see how beautiful my new friend paints?” Helaena asked happily and she looked down in embarrassment. She guessed he didn't want to, but out of politeness he came over and stood behind them.

He literally said nothing. She glanced at him uncertainly over her shoulder and met his intense gaze which almost scared her. She blinked and opened her mouth slightly, then closed it, wondering if she should say something. She turned her head away, swallowing softly.

"Beautiful, isn't it? It makes me look like a baroque countess." Helaena said happily, looking at her brother.

Aemond only grunted, nodded, and stepped around her easel as he left the room. She looked at Helaena slightly shocked, but she seemed completely unfazed by his behavior.

"Is he always like this?" She asked quietly, wondering what had just happened. Helena laughed.

"Yes, he is very economical with words."

***

She entered the painting room first. She liked to look at her paintings from a distance before going back to work. When she looked at it with fresh eyes, she suddenly noticed all the mistakes she hadn't seen the day before.

It immediately caught her eye that she had painted one of the eyes a little too close to the nose. She immediately grabbed the brush, mixing the paints properly, wanting to fix it without even waiting for the model to show up.

She heard someone enter the room and, thinking it was Helaena, greeted loudly. Surprised after a while that no one answered her, she leaned over the easel and realized surprised, that her brother was standing in front of her.

Aemond, as usual, was dressed all in black. His black turtleneck emphasized his slender, long face and long, blond hair partly pulled back. He looked at her expectantly, as if he wanted to say something. She blinked, wondering what he might be looking for here, and suddenly it dawned on her.

“Helaena hasn't arrived yet, she'll probably be here in a few minutes. Should I tell her something?" She asked softly and smiled warmly at him. She decided that she would not be guided by the opinion of others and would form her own opinion about him.

Aemond turned his head, staring out the window, his mouth tight. He tapped his fingers on the sill as if thinking hard. After a moment he looked at her suddenly.

"Pose for me." He said indifferently, looking at her with a stony face. She sucked in a breath, completely taken aback by his proposal. She blinked, putting down her brush, looking at him curiously. She's never stood on the other side, modeling for someone.

“I take photos stylized as copies of paintings by old masters. I'd like you to pose for me as a Vermeer Girl with a Pearl Earring." He explained, apparently wanting to make it clear that he didn't mean the act or anything else that might seem inappropriate to her. She smiled widely.

"Very willingly! That sounds great. Will I also have to prepare the appropriate costume for this?" She asked, clearly excited, stepping closer to him. Aemond stared at her, surprised by her energy.

"No, that won't be necessary. I'll get you something." He said looking at her face thoughtfully. She blinked.

“I can sew well, and a lot of photography is about making the fabric look real. I can take care of it, I used to sew some historical costumes as a hobby.” She said lightly, looking at him expectantly. Aemond stared at her, clearly amazed at her commitment. He didn't seem to know what to say to her for a moment, because he hadn't expected such a pleased reaction.

“Well … if you want, of course, you can sew something. I'll bring something too. I will book a photo studio for next friday. Will you make it by then?" He asked softly, clearly appeased by the way she was acting.

"Yes, I will."

***

She was incredibly excited about his proposal. They exchanged phone numbers in case the studio was busy that day or needed to contact each other for other details about the shoot.

She had no idea why he chose her or what he saw in her, but she was very pleased that he wanted her to pose for him. She always dreamed of being someone's model, and she knew he was a talented photographer.

His pictures were really miniatures put in huge frames, almost like paintings. His photos, although colorful, had a kind of noise and blur that made the photo look old. He probably used special plates and exposure methods for this, but she wasn't very familiar with it. However, she knew that he was great at capturing the moment, chiaroscuro and color. There was something painterly about his photographs.

She spent one afternoon wandering around second-hand clothing stores where fabrics could be found cheaply. She was pleased that she had found everything she needed.

When she got home, she turned on her sewing machine, sewing a brown blouse for herself, and what she couldn't sew on the machine she sewed by hand.

She looked at herself in the mirror, looking at the effect of her work and decided that everything looked great. The fabrics she chose were soft and draped smoothly without looking artificial. She suddenly realized that she was missing the most important thing - a pearl earring. The pictures were to be taken the very next day, so she texted him quickly, scared.

[Y]: "I completely forgot that I need an earring, and I can't buy anything at this hour!"

After a few minutes, she saw that she had received a reply.

[Aemond]: "I was able to find a virtually identical pair of earrings at one of the pawnshops. I also have some fabrics if needed."

She took a quick portrait photo of her reflection and sent it to him along with the message.

[Y]: "I don't think any additional materials will be necessary."

He didn't write back to her for a long time. She got scared that he didn't like what she had created and started to worry. She jumped as her display lit up and she got a new message.

[Aemond]: "Well done."

***

She entered the studio at the time stated, looking around. Aemond was already inside, apparently adjusting the lighting. He just glanced at her and went back to working on setting the lamp.

"Close the door." He said coldly. She dutifully did as he asked and placed her backpack on one of the chairs against the wall. She took out all the materials she had prepared. She looked at him uncertainly.

"Can I change somewhere?" She asked quietly. Aemond looked at her in surprise and cleared his throat.

"Yes, you have a small storage room on the other side." He said, pointing to the opposite side of the room. "The door is open."

She nodded and quickly walked into the small room. With resignation she found that there was no mirror in it. There was no problem with putting on the shirts, but she had some issues with tying the bonnet and scarf.

Resigned, she poked her head out of the door, searching for him. He was looking through the camera at the place where she was supposed to be sitting.

"I need your help. I can't see if I tied it properly." She said pointing to the fabric on her head. Aemond motioned for her to come closer.

"Sit down. Here, like this.” He said, turning her with his hand, so that her body sat in profile to him. When he touched her with his large, cool hand, she shivered.

She watched him from below as he busied himself with tidying up her headgear. He glanced once in a while at the printed reproduction of the painting on the floor in front of him to get it right.

After a while he seemed pleased with the result. He handed her a pearl earring, and she put it on, empathizing with the person she was about to be. Aemond pulled away, took the camera in his hands and looked through the lens.

"Turn your head slightly towards me. No, not that much. Oh, that's right. Open your mouth slightly." He said matter-of-factly and suddenly she heard the sound of the camera shutter. Aemond pursed his lips.

"Don't look at me with such terrified eyes. Relax." He said and she swallowed softly, squeezed her eyes shut and tried to pull herself together.

This time she tried to keep her gaze soft. Aemond took the picture again. He pulled back and looked at her thoughtfully. His gaze was intense and he seemed to be thinking about something.

"Lick your lips." He said suddenly. She shivered at his words and looked at him in surprise, thinking she had misheard.

"What?" She asked quietly. Aemond looked at her expectantly.

"Rub your lips with your tongue. So that they shine." He recommended.

She felt her heart pounding. She blushed, ashamed and pursed her mouth, not looking at him, her tongue running slowly over her lips. She looked at him and saw that he swallowed softly.

He walked over to her and lowered the material of her shirt so that it showed more of her neck. She felt his fingers brush over her bare skin and gasped, wondering if he had done it on purpose. She looked at him and saw a shadow pass over his face.

"Yes. Look at me like that." He said, looking quickly through the lens. She lowered her eyes, embarrassed, feeling the tension in her whole body.

"Don't look away. Look at me. That's how you're supposed to look at me." He said in a tone that conveyed some kind of arousal and desire that made her shiver. She looked at him, her eyes hazy and slightly dreamy.

"Open your mouth." He ordered in a low voice, and when she did, he immediately took a series of photos of her.

"God, yes. Just like that." He said with a delight that made her even more embarrassed.

She lowered her eyelids, feeling her cheeks burn, pressing her lips together. Aemond looked at her with a mixture of admiration and something she couldn't name.

"Pose for me more often. I will pay you." He said suddenly and she looked at him surprised. She swallowed loudly.

"I… you don't have to pay me." She spluttered, looking away from him, looking down at her hands. She didn't know what was happening to her. She could feel his intense gaze on her, her heart pounding like crazy.

"Is that all?" She asked suddenly without looking at him.

Silence answered her. She heard him swallow hard.

"…yes, that's all." He spoke low, with a note of unreasonable uncertainty in his voice. She nodded and got up without looking at him, heading to the room where her things were.

She took off her costume and only now felt her hands tremble. She wondered what had just happened between them. She felt as if something inexplicable, artistic, intense and sensual had developed between them.

She left the room as soon as she was done. Aemond looked at her, obviously tense, looking at her expectantly. They looked at each other in silence.

"When can I see the result of your work?" She asked softly and saw him flinch as if he was thinking of something completely different, and her question brought him back to earth.

"On exhibition in two weeks." He said calmly, looking away. There was silence between them for a moment.

"Shall I go now?" She asked quietly, not knowing if he needed her for anything else. He looked at her in surprise and hesitated for a moment.

"Yes…yes, thank you, you can go." He said low. She nodded, said goodbye and left, closing the door behind her.

***

Aemond and she hadn't spoken to each other since the photos were taken. She saw him stare at her as they passed, but neither of them dared to speak. She wondered if he felt what she felt then too. She thought resignedly that his proposal was probably already out of date, but she had no intention of pestering him.

Helaena encouraged her to go with her to the exhibition. She had lost her will, but what Helaena said shocked her.

"Are you kidding? Your photo is at the center of his part of this exhibition. In the middle of the wall, in a beautiful frame, spotlit, the rest of his works are on the walls on the sides. This is probably his most beautiful picture!”

She blushed at her words and bowed her head. Her words made her feel that despite her fears she had to see it live.

What he saw on the other side of the lens.

That evening, she and Helaena arranged to meet outside the hall. She didn't want to go there alone, knowing that few people she knew would be there. She was grateful that she wanted to keep her company.

They went inside together, there were a lot of guests inside, talking intensely about something. The exhibition consisted of a series of works by several artist photographers, including Aemond. She noted with interest that her painting professor was also among the crowd.

At the very beginning there was a speech by the patron who funded the exhibition. He talked a bit about the assumptions of the exhibition, their artists and the works themselves. After it was over, as people rushed to fetch glasses of wine dispersing to explore, she saw with a lump in her throat what Helaena was talking about.

On the other side of the room hung her portrait. She had to get very close to it becasue photography was small in size, about the size of a notebook page.

The photo was slightly hazy, but sharp at the same time as if you could feel the air that was filling the studio at the time. She was delighted to see that indeed, the colors of her outfit perfectly reflected the saturation of those in the original painting.

She felt both awe and shame as she looked at her face. Her glossy lips were gently parted as if she was exhaling softly. Her gaze was warm, hazy, full of some unspoken, intense feeling.

She gave the impression that she wanted to say something to the viewer, as if she was already opening her mouth to say the words. She thought it was indeed a great photo and barely recognized herself in it.

She swallowed hard as she saw that indeed, her gold-framed picture was the only one on the main wall, the rest of his work was more closely spaced on the side walls. He clearly made this work the focus of his exhibition.

She looked curiously at his other works, and saw that they too alluded to the works of the old masters. She flinched as she heard a low voice behind her.

"What do you think?" Aemond asked, standing literally inches from her. He was so close she could feel his hot breath. She looked at him over her shoulder, confused.

"It's beautiful." She said softly. Aemond looked down at her, his gaze dark. He took a sip of wine from his glass, looking at her searchingly.

“I agreed with my professor on the subject of my diploma thesis. I want you to pose for me for female portraits like this one." He spoke calmly and matter-of-factly. She opened her mouth in surprise and blinked rapidly.

"I… I'd be very happy if I could help you." She said softly and smiled warmly, trying to control her facial expressions and her trembling heart.

Aemond looked at her intently. He pursed his lips, apparently debating whether or not to say what he was thinking.

"Be my muse."

_____

I decided that I wanted to write something that would be a one-shot and I came up with this idea. I really like what came out of it and I'm curious about your opinion. Let me know if you'd like it to be a mini series with other paintings in the background. If you want to be tagged, leave a comment below. ♥

@zenka69 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff

[thescarletnargacuga]

Can i request that Gangle teasing Jax and begin playful to him? Like... After her comedy mask is broked, she founded a mask that looks different.. after she weared that she becomed flirty and teasing, shocked everyone

ROMANCE

A RIBBUN ONESHOT

WARNING: suggestive flirting

~~~

Gangle moped as she carried the remnants of her yet again broken comedy mask to her room. It would be together by tomorrow but she was tired of the constant tears of her tragic mask. She put the pieces of her comedy mask away in a draw out of sight and searched her room for anything useful. "Maybe I can make my own mask?"

In her search, she found a small box in the back of her closet. She'd never really gone through it, she didn't need clothes. It was just there for aesthetics. The box was plain, no markings of any kind to indicate what was inside. Curiosity compelled her to open it.

Inside was another perfect porcelain mask, but it was neither comedy nor tragedy. The mask had a more flirtatious facade with blush marks on the cheeks. Gangle picked it up and a note fell from the underside of the mask.

"For special occasions. Enjoy! -Caine"

"...special occasions?" Gangle looked the mask over one last time before putting it on. Immediately, she felt more confident. She stood tall, shoulders squared, hips swayed. Her body moved to the rhythm of her new persona. "Much better." She smirked and left her room.

Gangle sashayed out into the main circus where a few of the others were hanging out. Pomni noticed her first but backed out of her way without saying anything. Ragatha turned to see what Pni was nervous about and spotted Gangle. "Oh hey! Are you feeling better?"

"Never better." Gangle kept walking, going straight for Jax.

Jax and Zooble were giving each other the stink eye, about to start another round of arguments, but both looked at Gangle in stunned silence. Zooble crossed their arms and gave Gangle a look of confusion. "What mask are you wearing? Never seen that one before."

"Oh, this old thing?" Gangle giggled. "I've been saving it. Particularly, to thank Jax."

"You wanna what, now?" Jax's mind worked overtime to find quips for the unexpected behavior, but the way she was looking at him had a grip on his tongue.

"You heard me, handsome." Gangle sidled right up to Jax, being almost eye level with him as she stood her full height. "You did me a favor, and I intend to turn in kind." She placed a hand on Jax's chest.

"Whoa whoa whoa, Hold on-" Jax held Gangle away at arms length.

"HA! You've got him blushing!" Zooble cracked up. "What's the matter? Can't handle a little flirting?"

Pomni and Ragatha sniggered to themselves.

The once light blush that dusted Jax's cheeks flared out of embarrassment. "I can handle plenty! She's just being a pain in my [%$!#]!"

"Oh," Gangle chuckled "Sorry for being too rough last night."

The girls erupted with laughter. Zooble almost had to take a knee.

Jax choked on his words. The comeback he was looking for eluded him.

Gangle draped her arms over Jax's shoulders, hanging on him loosely. "Come back with me to my room. I'll let you do some...flossing."

Ragatha covered Pomni's eyes with her hat. "GANGLE!? My goodness!"

Pomni fought to see. "Ragatha, come on! I'm not innocent!"

Zooble couldn't breathe. They were laughing too hard.

Gangle paid the others no mind. She was entirely focused on Jax, who was completely speechless. She played with one of his ears, dragging her ribbon down it's length. "Such a gorgeous face. I could stare at it for hours."

Jax finally reacted. He grabbed Gangle's waist and held her to him. "About time someone recognized how awesome I am. You know I won't let you take any of this back, right?"

Gangle hucked on her legs onto his hip, which he caught. "Wouldn't dream of it. Now, do you want to get tangled or not?"

"[%$!#] yeah." Jax lifted her by her thighs and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He carried her to his room.

Zooble finally pulled themselves together with steadying breaths. "Oh my god, what was that about?"

"No idea, but I think Jax and Gangle are a thing now?" Pomni said, swatting Ragatha's hands away.

[fandomnerd9602]

Revenge of the Fifth

Fem!Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

⚠️ Warning: it’s a spicy one 🔥 ⚠️

The first week of May was often a celebrated one for you and your wife Petra Parker-Stark. No Spider Girl or Iron Knight patrols.

You and her would have three days of back to back Star Wars movies. It started on May the 4th and ended on Return of the 6th.

But this was the first time you’d be celebrating such a time as a married couple. So you decided to surprise your wife when she woke up on May the 4th.

“Happy May the Fourth, my spider monkey!” You presented her with breakfast in bed and a new Chewbacca onesie.

“Ohmygosh! Baby! I love it!” She giggled as she slipped it on. It made her feel comfy and loved at the same time. Made you feel comfy too considering that she spent the entire day nuzzled up against you. She didn’t want to leave your arms, she loves just rubbing herself and the velvet cotton texture against you.

You would be honest and say that the feeling was definitely making you feel hot under the collar so to speak. What you didn’t know was that this was all part of your wife’s slightly devious little plan.

You walked into the living room the following morning. Petra stood there in a jet black sith dove, holding her red lightsaber.

“Hi honey” she purred. “Sleep well?”

“I missed having you in bed with me this morning, Mrs Parker-Stark” you flirted back.

“Well…” she let the robe fall from her shoulders and to the floor, revealing a Sith inspired lingerie outfit. “Happy Revenge of the Fifth”

You were left speechless. She strutted up to you and gently pushed you onto the couch. She straddled you and began grinding her hips into you. She kept one hand firmly on your shoulder and the other was moving to your pajama pants.

Petra began kissing you with a fiery passion and vigor that anyone would not have expected from someone who acts so shy around others. 

With a simple tug of your pants drawstring, Petra yanked them off and began moving her hips in a tight circular motion. She moaned your name. Hers came out of your mouth as an almost begging voice. You couldn’t maintain much composure. Your beautiful geek of a wife was driving you wild. It was all too exciting.

With a mischievous grin, she smirked, “there’s your lightsaber.”

“It’s all yours,” you groaned. She giggles and yanked off your shirt.

And so now even years later, Petra Parker the love of your life still amazes you. The two of you now celebrate May the 4th with your little baby May. But Revenge of the 5th? You drop little May off at Aunt May’s house, but just for a few hours.

Tags: @ma1egamer @jacenradio7 @multi-fandom-enjoyer @supercorpdanbeau @scarletquake-n7

[thetriumphantpanda]

I Was Enchanted To Meet You | J. Miller Drabble

Summary | Literally just a Drabble about Joel being an era's tour dad, meeting a pretty girl in cowboy boots and flirting. That's it. It's dumb. This goes out to my girl Doni @morning-star-joy who is going to see Tay-Tay tonight and can now be delulu about meeting Joel Miller there. And also therapy for me because I'm in the UK and got waitlisted for tickets, so CRIES. I wrote this in like an hour so excuse any spelling/grammar errors.

Joel Miller didn't exactly understand when he'd signed up to take Sarah to her first concert. When she'd asked to use his credit card to buy the tickets, he'd just nodded and handed it over. When his bill came through the next month, he almost passed out from the cost. But stood here now, in seats that might very well give him a nosebleed, watching Sarah almost lose her mind over the fact that Taylor Swift was about to appear on stage, it was all forgotten. All Joel ever wanted was for his little girl to be happy.

He'd spent weeks listening to the songs, learning the lyrics so he might be able to sing along with Sarah. He watched her sit in front of the television each night making bracelets to trade, and he squirrelled away as much money as possible so he could buy her a t-shirt or something on the night too.

Joel was watching as Sarah swapped friendship bracelets with two girls to her right when something else caught his eye. Two people shuffling into the two seats that had been vacant in front of Joel and Sarah for most of the night. One of them, around Sarah's age, was almost as excited as his girl, bouncing up and down, looking around the stadium with eyes as wide as saucers, taking it all in, but you? You were something else entirely. You had a white cowboy hat sat on top of your head, not dissimilar to his own apart from the colour and the fact yours was covered in sparkly rhinestones. You had a white dress on, falling to your mid-thigh, made of lace and scalloped edges, and a pair of beat-up old brown leather cowboy boots. The literal picture of heaven on earth as far as he was concerned.

He watched as you pointed to the two seats in front of him and Sarah, motioning for the other girl to sit down so you could hand her the soda you were carrying. He noticed your wrists were covered in the same type of bracelets his daughter had been going wild for all evening. Almost on cue, Sarah leans over, tapping your shoulder.

"You wanna trade?" She asks, holding up her own plastic-laden wrist to show you.

"Hell yeah," You smile, nudging the girl with you, "Why don't you give this little superstar one of yours too?"

Joel watches intently as you let Sarah scan your wrists for the specific bracelet she wants, picking one made of pink beads, swapping it with one of hers that was made of black and gold. Joel had no idea what any of them meant, all he knew was that the bill for friendship bracelet materials on his credit card nearly rivalled the bill for the tickets.

"You want one as well, mister?" Your voice cuts through his thoughts, "Can't come and see Taylor and leave with empty wrists I'm afraid."

"Well, I ain't got anything to trade ya with." Joel shrugs.

"That's okay," you smile, "I'll forgive you, this time."

Joel keeps an eye trained on you as you search your wrists, obviously having something incredibly specific in mind for him. You find it, eyes lighting up as you pull it from your wrist and hand it over to him. He takes the delicate thing in his big palm - red, white and blue beads with letters in hearts that spell out 'Cowboy Like Me'. Very fitting.

"Thanks, Darlin'," He smiles, slipping it over his hand, "You been waiting to find the perfect man to give that to all night?"

You let your head fall back in a laugh and Joel thinks you might just be the prettiest goddamned girl he's ever seen in his life. Sarah is pulling at his wrist so she can see exactly what bracelet you've given her dad, laughing and then leaning forward.

"I made him wear the hat!" She exclaims, "Told him he had to fit in."

"Well, you made a good choice," You grin, "He looks mighty fine in his cowboy hat."

You finally turn your attention back to your companion - judging by your likeness he assumes it must be your little sister. You're pointing out things around the stadium for her to look at, and he can't help but find it endearing how she's bouncing in her seat at every little thing, much like Sarah had done when they'd taken their seats.

Joel feels a nudge to his side, Sarah is looking up at him with that glint he knows and loves so much - she's got an idea.

"She's really pretty, dad."

"Sarah!" He chastises, eye flickering to you to make sure you didn't hear what she'd said, but you look completely oblivious.

"She is though!" She retorts in a hushed whisper, "I think she likes you."

Joel brings a finger to his lips to try and get this devil of a girl to be quiet, but he can't help but indulge her - Sarah was right, you are really pretty, "She don't know the first thing about me," He finishes the conversation, "Now you sit tight, I'm going to find you a soda."

When Joel returns, to drinks in hand, he can see Sarah leant over the seats speaking to you. He dreads to think what she's been trying to cook up, seemingly obsessed with making sure he's not so lonely in life anymore.

"Move over," He asks, Sarah shifting to the seat he was in before he left, "Don't drink it all at once, you'll need it for all the screaming you're gonna do." He says, handing the soda to her.

Once he sits back down, you turn in your chair to speak to him.

"Sarah says you're a builder?" She asks, clearly just trying to make polite conversation with him whilst your sister speaks to Sarah.

"Contractor actually," He shrugs, as if it matters, "But yeah, I build stuff, what do you do?"

"I'm a teacher," You smile, "Teach 4th grade." He's about to ask you another question when every single person in the stadium starts screaming, he thinks by the end of tonight he might actually be deaf, "Well, you enjoy the show, mister, hope you learnt some lyrics."

Contrary to what he'd thought, Joel actually does enjoy the show. He sings along to some of the songs he remembers, dances with Sarah for most of the night and keeps a close eye on you during it all. You know every single word to every single song, just like your little sister and he has to admit that when you're throwing your hands in the air and screaming to the lyrics, he finds you prettier than he had done all night.

When all is said and done at the end of the night, you say a polite goodbye to him and Sarah. When he finally sits in his truck, waiting for the scores of traffic to clear so he can get them home, he kicks himself for not asking for your number, but resigns himself to the fact that it was fate. Meant to meet once and that was it. It's not until he's finally carried Sarah up to bed, fast asleep in his arms and settled down to unwind in front of the TV that he pulls his phone from his pocket and sees a message from an unknown number.

I was enchanted to meet you, Joel. Drinks? Saturday @ 6pm?

[pagannatural]

1.11

-Scarecrow, the one where John calls and the Winchester brothers break up for like 24 hours, spend that entire time thinking and talking about each other

-lots to unpack :)

-Meg kinda looks like Dean. Short light hair, leather jacket, listening to rock music. To look more trustworthy for Sam?

-Sam and Dean both stare at their phones and consider calling each other like this is a rom com

-“you know my brother could give you this puppy dog look and you’d just buy right into it.” Dean says this while biting his lip wistfully. I love these moments where we see how Dean views Sam, his ridiculously adorable candy-sweet sunshine baby brother who could make anyone do anything (who could make him do anything).

-they’re on the phone catching up not 12 hours after their fight. Way to hold out boys

-I’m 99% sure Dean initiated this phone call because 1) he has something he needs to say and 2) Sam immediately accepts his attempt to make amends, so Dean reaching out first was enough for Sam. Seeing Dean’s name on his caller ID probably made him so excited he almost came

-Sam grins blushingly when Dean says “I don’t have my trusty sidekick geek boy to do all the research.” This is technically the first time in the episode Dean refers to Sam as his boy.

Sam flirts with Dean, saying “if you’re hinting you need my help,”

Dean tells him “you were right,” “you’ve always known what you want and you go after it. You stand up to dad, you always have,” and “I’m proud of you, Sammy.”

This is everything Sam has always needed. Dean sees him for who he is, respects and admires him, is proud of him, and won’t cut him off or ice him out for choosing to live his own life. But when Sam tells Meg that Dean said goodbye, he’s holding back tears of grief or regret.

This is what makes Sam realize that what he really needs is not to live his own life- it’s Dean.

-Sam tries calling Dean for three hours. Has Dean never gone three hours without calling Sam back?? Sam’s reaction is grand theft auto

-they cut to Emily raising her eyebrow when Dean says “that’s my boy” regarding Sam stealing the car to get to him. Girl is tied to a tree to be sacrificed to a scarecrow that’s actually a pagan god and she’s like Damn these brothers are weird.

-Dean, teasing: “hold me Sam”

Sam:

His smile lingers the whole time he watches Dean get into the car. Just kiss.

[loservernon]

𐙚⊹₊⋆☆ nice guy | sim jake

𐙚 idol!jake x student!reader (she/her)

𐙚 angst no fluff, the little fight that snowballs into heartbreak

𐙚 1.6k, mentions of cheating, not proofread oops!

𐙚 note // this is my first time ever writing for a group other than nct so i hope you guys like it ^~^ i’m on a break from school, and kpop bedrot has been my best friend thus this was born!! there will most likely be a part two that’s not depressing teehee

at the second hour of this seemingly never-ending fight, jake has yet to show any sign of giving up. it’s baffling to you, who — just as much as he does — thinks you’re the one in the right. you’re sure of it, which is why you aren’t backing down so easily.

“so you’re saying it’s your job to buy a drink for every person that looks miserable at the bar?”

“i’m not saying it’s my job,” he defends, “i’m just saying i saw her sitting alone looking particularly glum and that i had the capability to do something nice for someone, so i did.”

“so you’re playing the nice guy now, huh? you can’t possibly be at fault because it was simply an act of kindness.”

“(name), don’t put it like that. i’m not trying to play at anything. i’m just telling you what i did and why i did it.”

“and i’m telling you that it was wrong, that it hurt, that it might’ve been a nice act to her, but buying another girl a drink is not nice to your girlfriend.”

jake rises from his spot on the couch. he walks a few steps until his back is facing you. his hands are set square on his hips and his head is hung low in disappointment, or defeat, or just dejection, you can’t tell.

he stays that way for a few moments; the heated tension that once shrouded the room is now replaced with an eerie silence. jake breaks it with the most bewildering conclusion possible. “i get it now. you’re jealous.”

at this, you’re caught off guard, though it only takes a few breaths for your surprise to morph into anger. you stand up as well, and jake turns around just as your anger reaches its climax.

“jealous? you think i’m jealous of a random ass girl who seemed to be down in the dumps?”

the furrow in his brow deepens at the thickness in your voice. jake’s countenance is back to a defensive state, but his tone almost assumes confusion when he queries, “if you’re not jealous of her then what’s the issue here? what reason could you possibly have–“

“it’s you, jake.” you take measured steps towards him, tears springing in your eyes from the sheer emotion leaking through your being. your body is almost shaking, pupils quivering, and fists clenching when you push forward, “you’re the issue. you think you’re such a nice guy for buying some girl a drink, when really you don’t seem to understand the insinuations of your actions.”

“what do you mean i don’t underst–“

“were you flirting with her?”

“no.”

“did you express your interest in her?”

“of course not.”

“then why would she come up to me right before we were leaving to tell me that the guy i was with was hitting on her?”

jake throws his hands up as a show of innocence and frustration, “how am i supposed to know why she lied to you?”

“did you tell her that you had a girlfriend?”

“there was no reason to.”

“are you really that dense?”

“what?”

“single guys buy drinks for girls that they’re interested in at bars. come on jake, you weren’t born yesterday. the more you try to make it seem like you were just ‘doing it to be nice,’ the more it feels like you had other intentions that you’re scared to tell me. just admit that you did something wrong, apologize for it, and never do it again.”

now it’s his turn to be caught off guard. you think he gets it, and he’ll do as you say and you guys will both hug and make up and hurry on to bed. however, it doesn’t seem that way. he’s stuck on a single part, arguably the least important part, of your whole entire spiel.

“you really think i had other intentions?”

jake’s challenging you. you know that look well, the one where he feels so severely wronged that his vision blurs and all he can think about is defending himself.

“jake…” you don’t give in to the challenge because you know it’d only fuel him.

“you think i was cheating on you? in front of you? why’s it so hard for you to believe i was just doing it from the kindness of my heart?”

“no, jake…” you try again, but it’s futile. you know from the look on his face that he’s about to say things he doesn’t mean. you know it’s going to hurt.

“fine. if you really don’t believe that my act of kindness was really just an act of kindness then i should be more mean, shouldn’t i? next time you have a group project with a guy in it, i’m not talking to you until the project’s over. you can’t have guy friends, or else i might misunderstand your intentions towards them. if you ever go up to a guy and talk to him for any reason, we’re over. and i’ll apply the same rules to myself. are you satisfied now?”

it doesn’t just hurt. it breaks you. tears are streaming down your cheeks and your heart rate speeds uncontrollably. you’re standing opposite of him, barely able to breathe, and yet he looks close to normal, save for the sternness set in his brows. it utterly shatters you to know that jake would rather break your heart knowingly than apologize for something that now seems so minor.

through hitched breaths, you force out weakly, “so by your rules, we’re over.”

at first, he doesn’t get it. the placidity with which he had regulated his face falls briefly into panic. cautiously, jake lets, “what do you mean we’re over?”

congestion has clogged your sinuses, so you hold your breath as you clarify, “you’re applying the same rules to yourself, aren’t you? earlier tonight, did you not go up to a girl and talk to her? for whatever reason?” any composure jake held on to cracks. his eyes go wide and he takes a hesitant yet desperate step towards you as you hammer in the final nail to his coffin. “you’re saying we’re over, right?”

you have jake backed into a corner. he’d fallen for his own trap, one that he’d built trying to corner you. he’d say he’s ready for it, your attack. he’d even go as far as to admit he deserves it, apologize for it, beg for it. he can’t take back what he did and he can’t take back what he said, even if he never meant to even remotely cause doubt of his loyalty to you, and even if he had sworn early on in your relationship that he would never hurt you on purpose. but even when he’s backed into a corner, defenseless and entirely at fault, you never land your final blow. instead, you retreat.

“i’m going to stay at yeji’s tonight. please don’t contact me until i reach out first.”

you turn away from him and head towards your shared bedroom. jake’s eyes have unfocused and he’s rooted rigidly in his spot. his mind tricks him into thinking that if he doesn’t move, or speak, or hear, or see anything, then this must not be his reality. for minutes it seems, jake dissociates just like this. but the sound of you packing your bag sets his nerves alight, and he’s jolted into action like the galvanization of a dead man emerging from the ground. he awakens to this reality, and the realization that he has to change it.

jake barely crosses the threshold of the door before he’s stopped at the sight of your zipping closed your suitcase. just how long were you planning on leaving for? you look up at him to catch the disbelief and hurt in his eyes. your face has been washed and you refuse to let up anymore signs of vulnerability on your end, so you look back down.

“please don’t go.”

“don’t push it.”

“i thought we agreed to never go to bed mad at each other.”

with your suitcase zipped close, you still your emotions before looking up at him. “i’m not mad at you, jaeyun.”

at the sound of his full name, jake almost dissociates again. his heart has gone completely still. “then why are you leaving?”

you make your way across the room, and he moves to block the entrance of it. you sigh. “i just want some space to rethink our relationship and what happened tonight.”

jake hangs his head low, “i’m sorry. i’m at fault.” but his head snaps back up when he hears you laugh in response, “it’s a little too late for that, don’t you think?”

he doesn’t put up a fight, for he’s done more than enough of that already. instead, he moves out of the way.

you leave.

jake wonders who’d get the apartment if you guys broke up. he wonders what he’d tell his parents who love you so, how he’d break it to layla that her favorite person in the world will never see her again. jake wonders if he could ever get used to the silence in the room that now sits heavy on his shoulders. mostly he wonders if he would ever forgive himself for being stubborn at the worst moment, and being selfish when it mattered the most.

it’s only now that jake thinks he would prefer you yelling at him any day for any reason, over the silence of your shared apartment for the rest of his life.

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