#/hj no pressure of course | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

headkiss · 1 year

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single thread (pt. 3)

part 1, part 2, part 3

pairing: spiderman!steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: you know steve’s secret, but he has another; he loves you. of course, you love him, too, and things change.

word count: 9.3k

warnings: spiderman!steve au, fluff, smut (thigh riding and a hj), mentions of a car accident (nobody gets hurt), idiots in love!!!!!!

a/n: she’s here!!!! thank u guys so much for ur support on this mini series, i have loved writing it so so much <3 this will be the last long piece, but if you guys have requests for blurbs from this universe, i’d love to have them!!!

/ᐠ(๏‸๏)ᐟ\

You’d never been that great at puzzles, at figuring things out quickly without hints. But for some reason, this was something you’re pretty sure of.

Steve is Spider-man. He’s the one who saved you, who saves people every day, and he keeps it hidden. You understand why he does, and you’d never want to pressure him into telling you something he doesn’t want to, you only wish he knew you were ready to listen. Whenever.

You’re not that strong, but you’d take some of the weight off of his shoulders if you could.

The news plays on your TV now more than ever, as more than just background noise. Your eyes focused on the screen whenever Spider-man is mentioned, analyzing the way he moves, the familiarity of the hand gestures when he speaks, the gentleness when he makes sure someone’s okay.

It isn’t only on the news that you notice things, either. Seeing Steve as often as you’ve grown to, you seem to find more tells constantly. How he can catch a glass before it spills without even looking, the way he’s on edge sometimes, like he can’t focus on one single thing.

You see Steve often, and the clues are there, and he still hasn’t told you about it.

It’s not that you expect him to tell you, or that you’re angry he hasn’t. It’s just been hard to pretend like you don’t know why he’s limping or like you’re still clueless to it all. He’ll tell you on his own time, or maybe he won’t, but you’ll have to be okay with that.

You’ve convinced yourself it’d be best not to tell him you knew. He’s probably stressed out enough, and you didn’t want to add to that if you could avoid it. You’ll be there for him either way, that’s what’s important.

Besides, on top of you figuring out he’s Spider-man, you’ve finally acknowledged the feelings that have been there for a while. The serious ones, the four letter ones. They’ve been on your mind more than anything.

You’re in love with Steve, that’s something you could tell him, in theory, but you can’t bring yourself to. You’d hate to ruin the only real friendship you’ve managed to build since moving.

So, he’s not the only one with secrets after all. He’s Spider-man, you know that he’s Spider-man, and you’re in love with him.

Lately, you’ve actually been thankful for how quiet things have been at work. Your head’s been loud enough. The thoughts of Steve, of trying not to give anything away every time you look at him, of whether he might be going to patrol whenever he leaves.

It’s all-consuming. Pathetic, even.

And it’s what’s on your mind—once again—as you walk home from your morning shift at work. The sun’s out, your eyes squinted when it hits your face. The breeze around you is still chilly, but the promise of spring and warmth is nice.

You glance over to the newsstand you always pass going to and from work, checking the picture on the front page to look for a certain mask. Today, it’s there, and you pause to look at it.

‘Spider-man catches culprit behind string of armed robberies.’

Skimming the article, your heartbeat picks up. The danger this boy puts himself in for the sake of other people. The injuries you’ve seen him come home with. You shake your head and keep walking.

“Mom, look!” A little boy says, urging his mother towards the newsstand. “It’s Spider-man!”

You turn around, a small smile on your face as you see the mother buying her son a copy of the paper. You guess you’re not the only person who can’t keep away from that hero.

Then, there’s a little glow in your chest, the reminder that you’re lucky enough to know the person behind the mask, too.

Steve thinks that telling Robin about you might’ve been a bad idea, because she looks like she might slap him right now.

“You’re telling me you kissed her, then told her it couldn’t happen again, and yet you still have that look on your face when you talk about her?”

Robin makes it sound very simple. To him, it isn’t.

“Well, yeah, but it’s complicated, okay? And I don’t have a look on my face, Robs.”

“You absolutely do, all moony and shit. If I didn’t want you to find someone so badly, I’d say it’s kinda gross.”

Honestly, Steve can’t even tell her she’s wrong. If the way he thinks about you tells him anything, it’s that he probably can’t keep it off his face. At the very least, he hopes that Robin can only tell because she knows him so well, not because it’s insanely obvious.

“Thanks.”

“Steve, I know you like her,” she says, gentler than before, careful not to scare him from the conversation.

I more than like her, he thinks. There’s a better way to describe it and he knows that. He may not admit it, not even to himself, but he knows it all the same.

Robin continues before Steve can reply, “and I know you’re scared, I do, but we both know you’d regret it if you didn’t give this a shot.”

He shakes his head. Somehow, every time he sees Robin, the conversation always leads to this. To you.

“I’d regret it more if I got her hurt.”

“Steve, I’ve known about you since the beginning and look at me. I’m right here, perfectly fine,” she holds her arms out, like it’s some sort of proof that she’s okay. “The worst I’ve done lately is scrape my knee, and that’s just because I’m clumsy, not because I know about you being Spider-man.”

He supposes she’s right, that she has a point here, but it doesn’t stop him from being afraid, from feeling an uncomfortable clench in his chest when he thinks about even the slightest possibility of putting you in danger.

“It’s different with her, though,” he says.

“Come on! Remember in high school when you had like four different girlfriends in a month?”

“That’s an exaggeration.”

“Well, still. Where’s that part of you gone?”

“Um…”

“Shut up, I mean the part that was open to that. To trying to make connections.”

“Maybe the venom from the spider made it disappear.”

She huffs and sinks into the couch cushions. Steve’s always been stubborn, quick to deflect with humor or sarcasm when things get too intense. Too much.

Robin’s a good friend, the best one, and she can see him closing up, so she changes her approach.

“I just want you to be happy, you know?”

“Yeah, Robs, I know.”

“Can you just think about it?”

“About what?”

“Asking her out, telling her how you feel,” Robin lays a hand on Steve’s shoulder, gives it a small squeeze. “Don’t close yourself off to it completely.”

Steve’s hand lands on top of hers, squeezes it back before letting go. He may not have that many people in his life, but having a friend like Robin never makes him feel like he’s missing anything.

At least, he didn’t feel that way until he met you. Now, he thinks about what it’d feel like to fall asleep and wake up with his arms wrapped around you, to be able to kiss you and hold you. To have that intimacy that you can only have when you’re in love with someone.

Fuck. In love.

“Okay. I’ll think about it.”

The good thing about being lost in thought while you walk is that it makes time go by quickly. By the time you’re walking up the stairs to your apartment, you’re not even sure how you got there, your feet having been on autopilot.

Just as you’re fishing out your keys, there’s the sound of a door opening, a pair of voices following. One that’s practically engraved in your head. The other is of a girl, who seems to notice you standing by your door very quickly.

“Oh my gosh! Hi!”

You blink at her a couple of times, because she’s talking to you like she knows you, like you should know her. “Hi…?”

Steve’s leaning a shoulder against his door frame behind her, a scrunch in his brows and a shake of his head. It’s all you catch before she grabs your attention again.

“Sorry! I’m Robin, Steve’s totally, completely plantomic best friend-”

“Oh my god,” he mutters.

“You’re the neighbor,” she continues, saying your name to make sure she’s right, even though she seemed plenty sure of that already. “Steve talks about you all the time.”

“Really?” You can’t help but ask. You try to hide the hopefulness in your voice, the happiness at the idea of him talking about you. All the time.

“Oh, yeah. You have made quite the impact on this guy,” she points towards him with a thumb over her shoulder.

“Robs,” Steve gives her a stare, eyes wide and—if the hint of pink spreading over his cheeks says anything—probably telling her to stop embarrassing him.

“What?” She looks back at him, all innocent.

“Don’t you have to get to work?”

“Okay, okay,” Robin turns towards you again, gives you a toothy smile that’s wide enough to have you sending her a small grin in return. “It was so nice to finally meet you.”

“You, too,” you say, and though she surprised you with a whole bunch at once, you mean it.

She pulls you into a hug and says to you quietly, “thank you for taking care of him.”

And with that, she walks away, retreating down the hall. Steve hears her, Robin knows that. Hell, she probably wanted him to.

He scratches at the back of his neck (that habit of his) and huffs, “I’m sorry about her. She can be sort of a lot.”

“Don’t be,” you shake your head. “She seems great.”

“You’d like her, I think. If you got to know her.”

He still seems nervous, like you and Robin meeting was a really big thing for him. And it is. The two most important people in his life meeting. Of course he’d want that to go well.

“Steve, you don’t need to worry, or anything. I already like her, okay?”

Anyone who seems to make Steve happier is bound to win some points with you. He deserves friends like that, especially with everything he has to carry.

“Okay, yeah. That’s good.”

He still seems nervous, so you step over and place your hand on his arm, giving him the lightest squeeze. He probably wouldn’t have felt it if it weren’t for how focused he is on you.

“I was just surprised, that’s all. Promise.”

Steve’s hand finds yours, intertwining your fingers gently, as if he doesn’t even know he’s doing it.

“Thank you,” he speaks quietly. Two words he tries to tell you as often as he can.

Steve’s been visiting you at work often, sometimes with food, always with enough to brighten your day. Getting to spend that extra time with him is another perk of working when it’s not busy.

Today, he’s decided to surprise you rather than give you a heads-up over the phone. There’s a takeout bag clutched in his hand, and a little ball of nerves in his stomach. He shouldn’t be nervous, it’s only you. Then again, it’s you.

He opens the bookstore door, the small bell above it jingling. For once, there’s a customer at the register. You glance over at Steve from behind the counter, wiggling your hand in a quick wave before helping your customer again.

And just like that, there’s that feeling in his chest.

Steve waits by one of the displays as you finish up, trying not to make it obvious that he’s looking at you. There’s the soft smile on your face, the tone of your voice, the way the lighting hits your skin. It all has his heart going quicker.

“Hi, Steve,” you greet him once the customer leaves. “I didn’t know you were coming today.”

“Hi, honey. Kinda the point of surprising you with food.”

“Well, thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Hopefully I picked something you like.”

From the packaging he’s seen before in your apartment, he’s pretty sure he did alright, but he waits for your confirmation all the same.

You open the bag he’d set on the counter, a small happy gasp that he likes way too much leaving your mouth, “yay! How’d you know I liked this place?”

He shrugs, “lucky guess.”

There’s a second stool behind the counter, and you pull it up for Steve without a word, patting the seat for him to sit down. He does, consumed by the brush of your arms as you unpack the food, the touch of your knees when you shift in your seat.

“Thanks again, Steve.”

“You already know I owe you for all the meals you’ve made me.”

“And you already know, you don’t owe me anything.”

You’re a kind person, Steve’s known that since he met you. So much so that you don’t even see the value in what you’ve done for him, like it’s the simplest thing for you. It’s the simplest thing to help him.

It makes him want to do things he said he wouldn’t. Things like kiss you.

“Anyway,” he shakes the thought away. “How’s your day been?”

You lift a shoulder as you finish your bite of food before replying, “been okay. I’ve had a couple more people come in than usual, which is good.”

“Yeah?”

“I mean, I love the quiet in here, love getting to just read behind the counter and call it work. But, it’s also nice to feel useful at least some of the time.”

“That’s good. What’ve you been reading?”

This is a question he loves to ask you, because you get excited to respond every time. He loves to watch you grab the book and show it to him, to see your hands flick through the pages as you tell him what it’s about, to watch the way your mouth forms the words you speak.

He loves to ask you, because he loves to listen to your voice when you answer. That word’s been in his head a lot lately. Love.

So much that he’s not sure it ever really leaves. It’s a lingering whisper, growing louder when he’s with you. Even after you eat, after the food’s been cleaned, as he walks out the door, the word stays.

“Bye, Steve, see you later!” You say as he reaches for the door handle.

He lets himself look at you again before leaving, his eyes lingering for a second too long. “Bye, honey.”

The bell above the door rings again as he leaves, but it isn’t loud enough to cover what’s rushing through Steve’s mind. I love her. I shouldn’t, I can't. I love her.

God, maybe he should talk to Robin again, he thinks. Or, maybe he could avoid the lecture he’s bound to get and take his mind off things the best way he can: putting on the suit.

Turns out that even when he should be focused on patrolling, his mind still likes to wander. That’s probably why he ends up stationed atop the building across from the bookstore, where your closing shift should be ending soon.

He ends up there most nights he knows you’re closing, really.

Before, when he couldn’t even let himself think about his feelings for you, he’d tell himself he stayed near the bookstore because it was a shadier area, more alleyways and all that. Now, though it sort of scares him, he’s able to acknowledge that it’s purely to make sure you’re safe.

He has a whole city to be protecting, but if his senses aren’t leading him anywhere else, he’ll always end up near you.

It’s sort of ironic. You, subconsciously looking for Spider-man everywhere you go, him being right there, and you don’t even know it. He’s so, so close.

Steve stationed himself across the street from you about twenty minutes before the shop was meant to close. His eyes squinted on his mask to see if there was anyone seemingly dangerous around, just in case.

Sometimes, when he does this, he can’t stop himself from thinking about that night when he found you in that alley. When his ears were filled with pure static until he knew you were safe. When he kneeled in front of you and brought you home. He doesn’t want you to go through something like that ever again.

The click of the bookshop door closing behind you has Steve’s heightened hearing turned on, knowing that you’re about to lock up and head home.

You feel like there are eyes on you as you walk. But, every time you look behind you, there’s nobody there. You’re just being paranoid, you tell yourself. You’re fine. And really, you are fine, because the eyes aren’t dangerous—though you don’t know it—they belong to Steve.

He hops across buildings as discreetly as he can while following your pace. Walking you home in his own, secret way.

The next thing happens in a complete blur.

You’re crossing at an intersection when a car runs a red light, speeding and crashing into another vehicle. You’re in the street, the two cars screeching on the pavement and heading straight for you. Even if you ran, you wouldn’t be quick enough.

But he was.

Steve jumped down before it even happened, his vision tunneling on that car, on you in its path. He just knew he needed to get to you first. He shot the web, swung down, and scooped you up right before the collision reached you. His heart pounding, his grip on you tight enough to knock the air from your lungs.

He lands and sets you down at the back of an alley, hidden from the bystanders that screamed at the sight of the crash, at the sight of him.

It takes you an entire minute of silence, of your chest heaving and your ears ringing to grasp what had just happened. How close of a call it was, how he was there to save you again.

Your vision is blurred by tears when you look up at him, at the red and blue suit, the mask. Your breathing is quick, panicked, but it slows the slightest bit when you look at him. Spider-man. Steve. The best boy ever.

When your eyes lock onto his face, Steve rushes forward, holding your face in a gentle grasp. It’s frantic, the way his hands shake when he reaches for you, the way his head tilts all over to make sure you’re okay. His thumbs brush away the tears that fall from your eyes, back and forth and back and forth.

“Hey, look at me,” he says, dipping his head down to make you focus on him. “Breathe.”

You shake your head, trying to calm down the best you can after coming so close. Fuck, it was so close. If Steve would’ve been a split-second later, you would’ve been hit. The thought doesn’t help you calm down one bit.

Steve can see the fear in your eyes, the quick rise and fall of your chest. It clenches his heart in a tight, uncomfortable fist, and all he wants to do is help you. So he lets it slip.

“Breathe, honey. Come on.”

Honey.

That’s all the confirmation you’d ever need. You were right. This is Steve. It’s Steve holding your face and saving your life.

You surge forward and wrap your arms around his neck, and his go around your waist instantly.

“Steve,” you breathe out so quietly, only he could have heard it.

His heart sinks and flips at the same time, if that’s even possible. It sinks because you know, somehow, and it terrifies him so much, he’s not sure what to say. But then, it flips, too, because there’s a relief that’s clear in your voice.

“How did you-” he starts, but you only squeeze him tighter.

“Steve,” this time, your voice breaks when you say it.

Now isn’t the time to talk about this. Not when you were almost hit, not in public. Not now and not like this, Steve knows that. The break in your voice tells him to push that back for now.

“I’m gonna take you home, okay?”

He can feel you nod against his neck, so he lets go of you with one hand and keeps the other wrapped around you and starts swinging.

Right now, at this second, he’s not worried about how you found out, how you know it’s him. No, he only cares that you’re alive, that he can feel your arms squeezing around his neck, that he can squeeze you back just as tight.

As he swings with you clutching onto him, the realization makes his breathing stutter.

You could’ve died just then. In that fraction of a moment, you could’ve been gone without Steve ever getting the chance to tell you he loves you. He can’t let that happen. He’s gotta tell you.

It scares the absolute shit out of him, but he has to do something. He can’t lose you before working up the courage to tell you how he feels, before having the slightest chance at kissing you again.

He won’t let that happen.

Steve’s very gentle with you, even when he’s swinging from building to building with you in his arms. The sure grip he has around your waist and the smell of his cologne buried under the suit help ground you as wind rushes by.

You’re alive, Steve’s got you, and he knows you know.

Your eyes are squeezed shut the entire way, and in only a couple of minutes, he’s hanging onto the side of his building by his window and thanking himself for (once again) not locking it.

“Hey, honey, can you open the window for me?”

You lift your face from his neck and nod, twisting to lift it open. Steve’s supporting you with one arm and holding the both of you up with the other. The strength he has is incredible, especially when you’re seeing it first hand.

He helps you get into his room with a hand on your lower back, and lifts himself in right after you. You watch Steve’s back beneath the suit as he shuts the window, watch his gloved hands remove the web-shooters from his wrists.

Then, slowly, watch those same hands lift up to the edge of his mask and tug it off.

Your breath catches. You knew it was him, but seeing Steve’s familiar face and its prettiest combination of features be revealed is different, it’s real.

“Wow,” you say, though you hadn’t really meant to. It slipped. “Hi.”

Steve’s had a twist in his gut ever since he found out that you knew about him, and it only tangles more now that you’re looking at him with widened eyes. He doesn’t want things to change with you, and he’s so scared that they will.

What if you don’t want to see him anymore because of this? What if you’re angry with him for keeping it from you? What if you end up hurt because someone wanted to get to him?

“Um, hi.”

You step closer to where he stands by his side table, your hands twisting in front of you like you’re nervous, too.

“You saved me.”

“Just, uh, doing my job,” he says, shrugging it off.

“Well, then, you’re really, really great at what you do.”

You’re trying to be light with the subject, to take it at his pace given it’s his secret, his life. Steve’s quiet for a few moments, a flicker of something you can’t distinguish crossing over his face.

“How’d you know?” Is all he says, but you know exactly what he means by it.

“Saw Spider-man with the exact same injuries as you on the news. I guess I just connected the dots from there.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

You reach for his hand and hold it lightly, hoping that maybe, just maybe, your touch can help to ground him as much as his does you.

“Don’t be, okay? I understand why you wouldn’t. I just want to be there for you.”

“I don’t tell anyone, really,” he starts, his grip on your hand tightening as he speaks. “Robin’s the only other person who knows. I don’t want to put anyone in danger so I… I just keep it to myself.”

You squeeze his fingers, trying to show him in any way you can that you aren’t going to run away from this.

“You don’t have to keep it all to yourself, Steve. You can talk to me or knock on my door whenever you’re hurt,” he shakes his head. “You can. I keep my first-aid kit stocked for you.”

“It doesn’t scare you? That you might get hurt because of me?”

“I’m not scared for myself. I’m scared for you. Going out every night and fighting the bad guys. I’m scared that you’ll get hurt, Steve. I’m not worried about me,” he glances down but you step even closer, making him look at you. “If tonight shows anything, it’s that you’ll save me from getting hurt either way.”

Steve’s hand that isn’t holding yours moves up, pushing your hair over your shoulder before landing on your face. The fabric of his glove rests against your jaw, his thumb running over your skin, his eyes searching yours for a single hint of insincerity.

He doesn’t find one.

“You’re really important to me, honey.”

“You’re important to me, too.”

You’re close enough that you can feel his breath on your lips, his forehead a whisper away from yours. Close enough that you catch the way his eyes flick down to your mouth and back up.

“I know I said we shouldn’t-”

“Kiss me, Steve.”

“Okay.”

The hand on your face tilts you upwards, and just like that, he catches your lips with his. You’ve kissed before and still, there’s a rush of butterflies in your stomach, a warmth spreading over your skin the way a blanket of sunlight feels.

It’s slow, it’s delicate, and it means something. There are a thousand words that neither of you can say buried in this kiss, in the gentle press of your lips. Words spoken with the tilt of his head to get closer, the squeeze of his fingers interlocked with yours.

Steve doesn’t ever want to not be able to kiss you again. Not when it feels like this. Acceptance and reassurance, softness and the sort of glowing feeling he’s only ever had around you.

When he pulls away, he doesn’t go far. Your breaths meet between your faces, mingling in the silence that follows. Steve rests his forehead against yours, your noses brushing.

“I don’t want to be alone tonight,” you say. Because you’re still shaken from earlier, because you need the comfort that Steve seems to provide simply by being next to you, because you’re afraid that if you let him out of your sight, he’ll pull away from you again.

“You want me to stay with you?”

You nod. “Please.”

“Okay, honey, I’ll stay.”

As long as you’ll have me, he thinks, I’ll stay.

Steve did stay that night. After you both showered and got ready for bed, there was a moment where he stood—almost nervous—in the doorway of your bedroom. You lifted the covers for him and patted the spot next to you, and that was it.

He stayed for breakfast, too. This time, it was him cooking for you, stood over the stove in your apartment. It’s a sight you could definitely get used to. Then, like he could get any sweeter, he even called into work for you, saying you should at least get a day after what happened the night before. What almost happened.

Really, as scary as the crash had been, what you’d been thinking about the most was the way he kissed you. The way you’d woken up in the middle of the night with his arm around your waist. The way you fell back asleep easily with him there.

It’s what you’ve been thinking about in the days since. What you’re thinking about even now.

You know that something shifted that night, with him finding out that you knew he’s Spider-man, with you being able to reassure him that it won’t push you away. You could feel that shift, like a tectonic plate.

Despite that, things have been quiet and relatively the same with Steve. You haven’t seen him all that much, but when you do it’s still friendly. Friendly with something lingering between you, unspoken and palpable.

It’s dark out now, the evening news playing on your TV the way it so often does. It’s static to you until you see footage of Spider-man from earlier, swinging around and fighting crime again.

Naturally, your first thought is Steve, and whether or not he’s okay. Before, when he didn’t know you knew, you’d keep all this worry to yourself, letting it build and build until you saw him again. Now, though, he knows you know and you can do something about that concern.

You push yourself up from your couch and head to your door. Knocking on his comes easy, and he opens it quickly, like he knew it was you.

“Hi,” he says. There’s a smile pulling at his mouth.

“Hi. Sorry for bothering you, I just- um. I saw the news and I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Seeing you on the other side of his door already had Steve’s heart doing this silly flutter in his chest. Knowing you care enough to check on him this way does something else entirely. It floods from head to toe, the feelings he has for you. The ones he’s identified as love.

“I’m okay, promise. Not even a scratch this time.”

You nod, a pressure lifting from your lungs. You breathe a little easier seeing him unharmed. Seeing him in general.

“Okay. Good,” you should probably stop there, turn around and go back to yours, but you don’t. “I was just really worried, y’know, ‘cause I’ve seen you hurt and all, so I just wanted to see you and check-”

“Hey,” he grabs your hand gently, cutting off your rambling and tugging you into his apartment, pushing the door shut behind you. “I swear not every Spider-man thing I do is dangerous.”

“Yeah, okay, because swinging from buildings is super safe.”

“I’m a professional at that. Nothing to worry about.”

The wood of the front door is solid against your back, and Steve’s hand still in yours is the same. Solid, reassuring, sweet. Steve steps just a bit closer to you, so that you’re toe-to-toe and there’s nowhere for you to escape to.

His free hand reaches up to fiddle with the ends of your hair, gentle in a way that almost feels like you dreamt it.

“Did you really only come here to check on me?” He asks.

“Yeah, I did. Is that… okay?”

Steve wants to kiss you for that. He thinks you might want that, too. So, he dips his face closer to yours, lets go of your hand only to hold onto the nape of your neck instead. He hesitates, waits for you to push him away, but you never do.

Instead, you tilt your head and meet him in the middle.

You never knew that kissing someone could be so easy, that you could fit together so well that it just works. But that’s how it is with Steve, and you suppose that’s how it is when you’re in love. The pink haze and heart-shaped touches.

Steve doesn’t think he could ever get sick of kissing you, of feeling so light when things are often so heavy for him. When you pull away, he chases your mouth and steals two, three pecks from you.

Then, to answer your question, he says, “it’s more than okay.”

You only notice now that you aren’t distracted by his mouth on yours that your hands had found their way to his shoulders. It’s impossible not to notice the muscles under his skin, the clear evidence of his strength. Heat spreads through you, and you have to pull your hands away to speak properly.

“You sure?”

“I’m sure,” he tells you. His hand, still on your neck, squeezes so, so lightly. “I know I’ve said that we should only be friends, but that was before. Before you knew, and I was terrified of what could happen to you.”

“What about now?”

“Now…” He takes a deep breath, and focuses his eyes on yours. Whatever he’s about to say, he wants you to know he means it. “Now I can’t stop thinking about you and how it feels to kiss you.”

“I think about you, too.”

“Yeah?”

You nod, and though being honest makes you nervous, the smile that spreads over his face makes it worth it. So does the slight blush of his cheeks.

“I want to take you on a date. If that’s something you’d like.”

“I would really like that, Steve.”

Right then, there’s another shift, a bigger one. You both know there are feelings here. Big, scary feelings that you can’t say out loud yet.

Steve took care of planning the date. He wanted to surprise you, to impress you and do something for you this time. You do enough for him already.

Though Robin assured him—after all of her ‘finally’s and ‘I told you so’s—that it would be great, perfect, even, he’s still nervous when he knocks on your door. He’s shuffling on his feet, puffing out a breath as he waits, and then he sees you and the rest sort of melts away.

You open your door to find Steve with a picnic basket in hand and a slightly windswept bouquet of flowers in the other. You smile as he hands them to you and try to hide it by smelling the flowers.

“Thank you, these are beautiful.”

“‘Course.”

“I’ll just put them in water and then we can go.”

Your stomach is a mess of flutters and nerves as you fill up a vase with water and put the flowers in it. Sure, you’ve spent time with Steve alone time and time again, but never like this. It’s exciting and it’s scary, but the welcome kind of scary that comes with new things.

“You’re taking me on a picnic?” You ask, locking your apartment door behind you and then falling into step next to Steve.

“If that’s okay with you?”

“Sounds amazing.”

“My cooking isn’t as great as yours, I have to warn you,” Steve says, holding the door open to the stairwell.

“I’m sure I’ll love it.”

“It’s okay if you don’t, I’m just saying.”

He holds the door at the bottom of the stairs open for you, too. And then the one to exit the building.

As you walk along, Steve leading the way, your nerves fade, replaced with the familiarity and comfort of Steve’s company. Replaced with the feelings that sweep inside you like a huge bubble of pink bubblegum, so close to popping and spilling it all.

You talk aimlessly about anything and everything, and Steve does the same. You both try not to make the little catch in your breaths obvious when your hands brush.

He takes you to a park, one with big trees and a walking trail, with scattered flowers and the fresh smell of nature that makes you feel like you’re not even in the city anymore. He keeps going, and you keep following him, until he finds the spot he’d found before. A small clearing between trees, shaded by their leaves and just enough space for him to spread out the picnic blanket.

“Why have I never found this place myself?” You ask, looking up at the sky through the leaves.

“You like it?”

You nod, sitting down next to him on the blanket he brought. “Thank you for bringing me.”

He shrugs, “thank you for coming.”

You share a smile, a slow spread across your mouths as you look at each other for a moment. A smile saying this is real. Then, like it didn’t even happen, he starts to unpack the food.

Steve can’t even remember the last date he went on, but he knows that it wasn’t anything like this. He’s never felt this light around someone before. Somehow, you turn the bricks that weigh him down into feathers.

You’d thought it before, but you’re sure of it now; Steve is the absolute best boy you’ve ever known. The effort he put into making and packing up the food, the shyness he has about it all, like he should be embarrassed for being sweet to you. You feel unbelievably lucky that you moved into the apartment across from his.

The date goes by in a blink. You and Steve subconsciously moving closer and closer on the blanket, your thighs touching and your arms brushing. The food eaten between conversation and giggles. The picnic basket is now packed up again, the containers empty this time around.

You rest your head on Steve's shoulder and say, “thank you for this.”

Steve’s eyes close for a second, trying to memorize how this feels. He opens them and presses the gentlest kiss onto your head. “You’re welcome, honey.”

You stay that way and breathe each other in, once, then twice. That’s all you allow yourself before you stand and brush yourself off even though you weren’t dirty in the first place. Steve folds up the blanket and places it in the basket, and he stands, too.

This time, as you walk back to your apartment building, when your hands brush, you and Steve feel just a bit more confident, enough to reach your pinkies out to each other and lock them.

Steve’s the one who fully grabs onto your hand, letting your fingers intertwine. It’s how they’re meant to be, he thinks, two pieces of the same puzzle that just happen to fit together. You don’t let go for the entire walk.

Outside your building, neither of you really want to say goodbye, to end the date that feels like the beginning of something really, really good.

But, just as Steve lets go of your hand to reach for the door, he feels it. The tingling over his skin, the goosebumps, the static in his ears. He blinks and turns to you.

“I’m sorry-”

“Stop, it’s okay. Just be safe.”

He’ll never understand how you’re so understanding, how you accept it so quickly. All he knows is he loves you for it and so much more.

“Thank you, honey.”

He presses the quickest kiss to your cheek, sets down the picnic basket, and then runs into the alleyway on the side of the building. When he emerges, he’s in his suit and swinging off.

He’d been wearing it under his clothes. Always prepared.

You pick up the picnic basket and walk up to your apartment half convinced that the last few hours have been some sort of dream. Too good to be true.

The issue that had Steve’s senses coming alive didn’t take long to handle. Still, he stayed out to continue patrolling, worried that something else could happen. Worried that it might be too soon to go back and see you again.

Not seeing you didn’t erase you from his thoughts. Not one bit. He spent the hours in the suit waiting for the city to die down, waiting for the moment his senses would quiet down enough to let him know he was done for the night.

All because he wanted to see you, kiss you. God, he’s so fucked.

You were faring pretty much the same. Only, you’d changed into your pajamas rather than a superhero suit, laying around on your bed with a book in hand to hear knocks on your door. Or, at the very least, to hear him get home safe.

When the knock comes, it isn’t on your door. Instead, there’s a tapping on your bedroom window by the fire escape. As soon as you hear it, you shut your book and turn towards your window, and there he is.

Steve hangs upside down, his head level with yours when you open the window to talk to him. If you weren’t so busy being in love with him, the sight would be sort of funny.

“Well hello, Spider-man,” you say, leaning your hands against the windowsill.

“Hey, honey.”

“You aren’t hurt are you?” You ask, moving your hands to hold his face, because you’ve seen him injured enough times to be worried about that, to know it’s a possibility.

“I’m completely fine.”

“You’re really okay?”

“Nothing hurts, I promise,” he says, shaking his head. How could it when you’re holding him like that, looking at him like that. Pain isn’t what he’s feeling in the slightest.

You’re not really thinking when you lean in and peck his cheek over the mask, but it’s enough to scorch his skin, to leave an invisible mark.

And Steve isn’t really thinking when he speaks, “have I ever told you that I think you’re really pretty?”

“You’re upside down,” you tell him, fighting a stupid, lovesick smile. “You must be seeing wrong.”

He ignores that comment and twists himself upright, then climbs through your window into your apartment. You have to back up to make room for him, and when his feet hit the hardwood floors, he’s only inches away.

“I’m right side up now. Still think you’re pretty.”

You’ve never been good at taking compliments, never really thought that people meant them, only that they were trying to be kind. Steve is different. You still don’t believe it yourself, but you can tell that he does. His voice holds enough emotion to do that.

Bashful, you walk around him to shut your window and then lock it. You try to keep your feelings off of your face when you turn back around and find him already facing you, his mask now off and clutched in his hand.

His hair is a mess on his head, his cheeks flushed from being upside down and maybe, just maybe from being so close to you.

“So, what brought you to my window?” You ask.

“I wanted to say sorry,” he says, scratching at his neck. That habit of his. “For leaving the way I did earlier.”

It’s a half truth. He wanted to apologize for that. But, mostly, he wanted to tell you he loves you. He’d been thinking about it his whole patrol. Thinking about when the right time would be then remembering how quickly things can change, how you’d almost been hit not so long ago.

With that, he decided that there wasn’t a right time, that he could lose you just like that and he swore to himself that he wouldn’t let that happen. Especially not without telling you how he feels.

But, he’s always been more courageous with that mask on, and now, he just can’t get the words to leave his mouth. They hover on the top of his tongue, sticky and heavy.

“I told you it’s okay, Steve. I swear,” you step closer to him and reach for his hand, tugging the glove off before lacing your fingers with his. “I know that you had to, that this is a part of you and I’d never expect you to change or ignore it. I-“ love you, you almost say. But the words get stuck for you, too. “I care about you so much. Spider-man included.”

Every time Steve worries, even the slightest bit, that you’ll feel differently about him because of this, you prove him wrong. You say all the right things to make him feel better, to make him want to fall into you completely and never look back.

You’ve proven to him over and over that you’re in this, that you’re this dream of a girl that somehow ended up in his mess of a life. A mess you’re willing to join, helping him clean it without even trying.

You’re a dream, his dream, and he has to say it. He has to say it so he does, those sticky words forced off of his tongue in a breath.

“I love you.”

He squeezes your hand on the second word, like he’s emphasizing it. Love.

“I love you,” he says again, and you realize you’re not dreaming. He really said it, and he’s really looking at you that way with those soft, brown eyes. “You don’t have to say it, I just needed to tell you. I’ve never had someone make me feel the way you do. Never.”

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

Your heart pounds, thumps.

“I love you, too.”

“Serious?” He checks, because he thinks he dreamt it just like you had.

So you repeat it for him, “I love you, Steve.”

He leans in, not so afraid anymore, and places a hand on your neck, his fingers in your hair. The other hand squeezes yours again before letting go to frame your jaw and tilt your mouth to his.

It’s an easy rhythm to fall into now. Kissing him. And you feel yourself melt into him, your muscles relaxing, your body pushing towards his. Your arms are thrown around his neck, and all you feel is him.

It’s a delicate push and pull, a kiss that’s familiar but now has something new behind it. That acknowledged emotion, the reality of it. It has his tongue sweeping against the seam of your lips and dipping in when they part.

His hand is tangled tighter in your hair, and you’re not sure how long it’s been before you both pull away, breathless, chests heaving, matching smiles on your lips. Your noses still brush, and still, it doesn’t feel close enough.

Steve’s hands shift to run down your shoulders, then your arms, and back and forth.

“Does this mean I’m your girlfriend?” You ask, still breathing heavy, still feeling his breath fan across your lips.

“I’d like to think so,” he says, his hands now settled around your forearms. “If that’s what you want.”

You nod, kiss him quick. “Does it also mean you’ll stay the night?”

“As long as I can use your shower first,” he says.

“Good idea.”

“You saying I smell?”

You shrug, shoulder to your cheek. He smiles, and in turn, so do you, and it feels like the closest thing to perfect there could ever be.

Steve emerges from your bathroom with damp hair falling over his forehead and your clothes on instead of his suit. You lent him a t-shirt and a baggy pair of sweats that are still a bit too short at his ankles. You grin when you notice that.

And Steve grins when he sees you. My girl, he thinks. And it’s for real this time.

You’re sitting with your back against your headboard, knees bent and your book in your hands yet again. You needed to occupy yourself while he was showering, after all. Otherwise, you’d just think and think and think about him in the next room, his mouth on yours. His voice saying the words ‘I love you.’

He walks over and sits on the bed by your feet, his side facing you, but his head turned to look at you. Seeing him in your clothes, in your space, you think it’s something you’d like to see forever. Seeing you waiting for him in bed, Steve’s thinking the exact same thing.

“Hi,” you say.

Steve wraps a hand around your bare ankle, his thumb smoothing back and forth. “Hi.”

Though everything’s out in the open now, there’s a shyness there. Like two kids with crushes wondering what to do next. You’ve never loved each other out loud before today. It’s brand new territory.

But with that shyness, there’s so much more. There’s the knowledge of how it feels to kiss each other, to hold each other. There’s want to do it all again.

Steve’s other hand reaches for your book and sets it open and face-down on your nightstand. Then, he pushes your knees over so that he can lean in. He’s not fully thinking about what he’s doing, he’s simply listening to this thread that pulls him closer and closer to you until he’s kissing you again.

It starts with a couple of pecks, innocent, soft, quick. It turns into more and somewhere along the way you’re tugged into Steve’s lap, your knees on either side of one of his thighs. And somewhere along the way Steve’s hands have ventured under your shirt, running across your waist and up and down your back. He groans into your mouth when he notices the lack of a bra.

Steve tugs you impossibly closer to him, tugs you down so that you’re straddling his thigh with all of your weight. You inhale sharp and quick through your nose when he does.

It’s not long after that before you’re panting, unable to keep up with his mouth, and though Steve’s chest heaves, too, he doesn’t take the break to breathe properly. Instead, he dips his head to kiss your jaw, then your neck.

Your head tilts for him easily, an arm wrapped around his shoulders and the other tangled in the hair at the bale of his neck. You gasp when his teeth scrape against the skin behind your ear, your hips hurting unconsciously to rut against his thigh.

“Sorry,” you say, worried it was too much. Still, it comes out breathily.

He pulls back from your neck, looks into your eyes, his brown ones just a bit darker than usual. “Did that feel good?”

Your eyes search his face for an ounce of discomfort, of uncertainty. All you see is the kind of warmth that spreads through you, the kind of intensity that only comes with lust.

“Yes.”

“Do it again,” he tells you, his hands slipping down to rest just above the waistband of your shorts. He encourages you to move, his hands pushing and pulling. You move with him, slowly at first, letting out the smallest whimper when the angle is just right. At the sound, Steve says, “keep doing it.”

“Steve.”

“You’re okay,” his hands urge you forward again, his thumbs running back and forth soothingly. “I wanna make you feel good. Okay?”

“Okay,” you agree, because how could you not when it already feels so good, when he’s looking at you with kiss-swollen lips, messy hair, and wide pupils. When he’s looking at you like it feels as good for him as it does for you.

You move quicker, his hands encouraging you still. He kisses you again, kisses you until you have to pull away, your mouth dropping open, a moan slipping out before you can stop it.

Steve wishes he could bottle up the sound and keep it, listen to it over and over. Because he’s the one who’s making you feel that way, he’s the one who has your hand tight in his hair. Because he’s thought about you before, and it’s nothing compared to the real thing.

The sweatpants you lent him grow a bit tighter, and his hands don’t stop guiding you over him. He wants to hear you make that noise again.

You drop your forehead to his shoulder, your thighs tightening around his, your clit catching on the fabric of your shorts and his (your) sweatpants enough to make you moan again.

“That’s it, baby. Doin’ so good.”

It’s the first time he’s ever called you ‘baby’ and you hope it won’t be the last.

“Steve.”

“I’ve got you.”

The hand that isn’t in his hair trails down his torso and rests above the waistband of his pants for a second. Your hand cups him over his pants, squeezing lightly and finding him hard. Watching you was enough to turn him on, and the thought makes you whimper again.

“Fuck. You don’t have to,” he says, taking a hand from your waist to pull your face from his shoulder, to look at you.

“Want you to feel good, too.”

There’s nothing but honesty in your words, want in your eyes.

“Shit, honey.”

“Will you let me?” You ask, your voice slightly strained from the stimulation you feel, your hips still moving.

“Yeah.”

Your hand slips under the waistband with his consent, and you wrap it around him, your thumb running over his tip. He groans and leans his forehead against yours.

You’re breathing the same air, moving at the same pace, and you don’t think it’s ever felt this right with anyone before. With Steve, you’re not thinking about how you might look and whether or not he’ll like it, you’re only thinking about being with him.

“I’ve thought about you before. Like this,” he says, a quiet confession broken up by heavy breaths.

“Me, too,” you reply in a gasp.

His hands are both on your waist again, squeezing your skin tighter because you have a hand wrapped around his cock and it has his head spinning.

“You getting close, baby?”

“Yeah, Steve. So good.”

“I know. Keep going. I wanna see you.”

His voice is tight, and he’s holding himself back though it hasn’t been long. Your hand is soft, running up and down and he hasn’t been with someone in so long. The fact that it’s you, right now, doesn’t help him last. Just kissing you would be enough, he thinks.

Your rhythm stutters, your eyes squeezing shut, and just like that, you’re tipping over the edge and coming on his thigh.

“That’s it, sweet girl,” he hums, low and scratchy. “That’s it. Look so pretty coming on me.”

Your hand pauses where it was jerking him off, too caught up in your orgasm to keep going. You say his name, say it again, and he keeps you moving over him through it all.

“Fuck,” you open your eyes when the last wave draws away, your legs shaking slightly.

It doesn’t take you long to start stroking him again, up and down and back again. Steve grunts and his hips stutter upwards, chasing your touch. It’s your turn to work him through it.

“Gonna come, honey,” he warns you. “I’ll ruin your sweats.”

“Don’t care,” you say, kissing his cheek, the corner of his mouth. “I want you to.”

You run your thumb across the tip again and then his fingers are digging into your skin. He’s groaning and you feel the warmth of his come spill onto your hand. Neither of you had taken any clothes off and still, it’s the best you’ve ever had.

“Shit, honey.” This time it’s his head that rests against your shoulder. “I’m gonna need another shower now.”

You laugh breathily and pull your hand from his pants, wiping it off on the thigh you’re not sitting on, ‘cause they’re already ruined, anyway.

“I’ll get you another pair,” you say.

“In a minute. Can’t move.”

A minute is closer to five, and eventually he lets you go. You hand him a new pair of sweatpants, then clean up in the bathroom and change into different shorts. When you come back, he’s laying down under the covers in your bed. Twin smiles spread on your faces.

“You’re cute,” you tell him.

“So are you.”

You shake your head and flick your light off, the street lights flooding through your window the only thing left illuminating your room. You join him under the covers, and he doesn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around you and pull you into his chest.

Your head rests by his shoulder, one of your legs thrown over his. Having him laying next to you is much more comfortable than being alone.

“I love you,” Steve says, his lips pushing a kiss into your hair.

“I love you,” you say right back.

And then, just like you’d imagined so many times before, you fall asleep cuddling Steve. And just like he’s imagined so many times before, you wake up that way, too.

/ᐠ(๏‸๏)ᐟ\

thank you guys so much for reading spidey!steve i hope u liked it!!!! pls pls consider reblogging and letting me know what you thought, i promise it makes a difference <333

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darlingshane · 10 months

Text

Kiss the Cook

Pairing: Michael Berzatto x F!Reader

Summary: When you wake up, you find Michael cooking breakfast, wearing only the apron that you bought for him.

Content/Warnings: 18+, Explicit, Smut, HJ and BJ (m. receiving), Friends with Benefits, Crack, Pet Names, Crass Phallic Humor.

Word Count: 1,1k

A/N: This is a second part to Afternoon Delight. They can be read separately since there's not much plot.

— You can read below or at AO3.

Though Michael doesn’t own the most comfortable mattress, when you wake up on his bed, you feel completely rested. You were spent last night when you came here under the premise of decompressing after a long day of work just for a quick fuck, instead you must have ended up falling asleep cause besides your feet being free from your shoes you're still wearing all your clothes. He must have moved you to his bed too cause you don’t actually remember getting into his room at all. The last thing you saw before you drifted to slumber was the glow of the TV.

One shoulder cracks when you stretch your arms before getting out of the tangled mess of the sheets.

Minding your steps, you walk into the bathroom to relieve the pressure on your bladder, and after washing your hands, you rid your mouth of the awful morning breath by using some of his Listerine.

As you head out to the living room, you catch a whiff of something cooking and the next second, you're met with Michael's backside in the kitchen wearing only an apron while he cooks something on the stove top. His cute little bottom is on full display between the edges of the apron. His ass cheeks jiggle a little when he quickly reaches with one hand to grab a spatula that was sitting further away on the counter.

You can’t stop yourself from sneaking on him and giving a small pinch to his butt.

“Morning, tushy,” you laugh as his head promptly turns for just a second.

“Hey, go back to bed, baby, I was going to surprise you with breakfast.”

“Too late. I'm already up,” you link your arms around his waist while he keeps working on an omelette that smells delicious. “Is this the apron that I brought you?”

“It is. Thought you'd like to see me wearing it at least once.”

“I do like it, baby. It looks good on you,” per the fabric’s suggestion of 'kiss the cook' you lean in closer and smooch his jaw.

“How did you sleep, sweetheart?”

“Good, I think. I haven't slept that much since… Forever. Thank you for taking me to your bed.”

“Of course.”

“Though, you should have taken off my clothes.”

“I thought about it, but it felt weird to do so while you were out. And I didn't wanna wake you up.”

“Aww, such a gentleman.”

“That's right,” he glances over his shoulder and kisses your nose before transferring the cooked omelette to a plate. Then, he pours another bowl of whisked eggs into the pan to make a second one. “Do you want anything else, sweetheart?”

“Hmm, I'm in the mood for some sausage.”

“Sorry, I'm out of sausages.”

As you slip your hands under the hem of his apron on both sides, you say, “really? Cause I think you have a perfect sausage ready for consumption right here.”

You curl both palms around his soft dick and jerk him slowly.

“You're literally playing with fire, baby,” he hisses, trying to keep his focus on the pan as he folds the omelette with the spatula.

“I know. That's the fun of it,” you smirk, getting his cock to harden in your hold. “How about some chorizo?”

“Uh-uh, the best I… can do…” he scrambles to get his words out as he grows more solid, “...is ham.”

“No ham. I need something with more sustenance. What was that thing you ordered the other day with the weird ass name?”

“Longaniza?”

“Yeah, that.”

“Don't have any, either.”

“That's too bad. I guess I'll have to settle with this one,” his full erection fills both your fists now, and leaks some precum that you extend along his shaft to ease the motion.

As you grip harder around him, you watch him struggle, promptly putting down the spatula, and bracing his hands on the edge of the counter.

“Fuck…”

“Sh, sh, sh. Keep cooking for me, baby. Don’t let it burn.”

“You're a fucking menace, girl,” he grumbles, and against his body’s wishes he collects the spatula and finishes that second omelette while you keep toying with him.

“You're the one who decided to wear just an apron to surprise me. We both know what you were up to when you made that decision.”

Despite your best efforts to get him to mess up, he manages to finish that second omelette with flying colors. Then, he turns off the stove and closes his eyes, enjoying the undoing of your eager hands around his hardness.

“Can I have some of this now, please?” you purr and nibble against the curve of his neck.

Michael can't and wouldn't ever deny you a request like that. Especially from you. The way you make him feel is something unexplainable. He becomes putty in your hands every time you come around. This is proof of it. So, as you take a step back and kneel on the floor, he turns around, and watches your teeth sharpen, and mouth water, at the prospect of taking him between your lips. You roll up the hem of that ridiculous apron over his hips to uncover that impressive erection you've proudly baked.

“Wow, you really put the long in longaniza,” you quip, bringing one hand up to hold the underside of his cock.

“You’re so fucking dirty,” he snorts and watches your tongue mischievously flick across your bottom lip before pressing a quick kiss on the blunt head of his dick.

“Don’t complain. I know you like it when I’m dirty,” you place a string of kisses along the shaft without taking your eyes off his.

Michael traps his bottom lip beneath his teeth and watches your lips sensually wrap around him. He places a palm on your jaw and draws with his thumb the hollow of your cheek when you take him shamelessly deeper into your mouth. It's a damn sight better observing you from above, fiercely wanting to please him. More than the act itself, it's the passion you put into it that makes his cock ache and throb. It's something unparalleled to watch how you almost take every inch of him into the depth of your mouth.

Your head bobs faster as you take him closer to the edge, you see his eyes glare behind a layer of gloss and lust. You grip harder at the base, revel in the way he tastes in your mouth, and use your other hand to massage his balls.

“Attagirl, keep going,” he deeply encourages between grunts, grasping your face tighter, with both hands framing your head now, as his hips automatically jerk into your mouth a few times. “You like it when I fuck your dirty mouth like this?”

You hum in response and let him drive into you during that final stretch. You keep your lips tight, your jaw slacked, that hand still holding his scrotum, and let his cock use your mouth until your tongue is covered with every drop of his warm, sticky cum.

#michael berzatto #michael berzatto x reader #the bear fanfiction #the bear #the bear fx #jon bernthal #jon bernthal smut #jon bernthal fanfiction #smut #darlingwrites

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oddballwriter · 9 months

Note

hello! I have recently been finding your writing and I absolutely adore it. I was wondering if you could write something for the boys with a clingy reader/big on physical touch for reassurance? I get worried about how they’d react, but i’d like to hear how you think each would handle it if that’s okay. no pressure to write this! thank you, hope you are well🤍

꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦

Warnings: Not much other than the implications that the boys are touch starved.

Author’s Snip: As someone who's love language is touch, thank you for this request

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦

Steven Grant

Don't worry about Steven. He loves physical affection, and honestly he's clingy too

Of course when in public it's kept appropriate but there's still a lot of physical touch involved

Like holding hands, you holding onto his arm, leaning a head on each other's shoulders, and the occasional quick peck on the cheek or lips

Maybe if you're in a not so populated space he'll hold you for a bit

In private though, you guys are chronically cuddling and in the same room together

You two are the biggest love birds anyone has ever seen

If a situation doesn't call for you to be apart then you two just come in a pair, you go everywhere together

You guys are clingy and physically affectionate together

You two share a personal space /hj

Marc Spector

Marc isn't entirely used to having someone basically being his shadow and just giving physical affection

He's not used to positive physical touch in the first place

He's not one for PDA, like he really isn't a fan

At home and in private he's okay with the usual things like the occasional cuddle and stuff like that

He still wants his space though. He's not sharing personal space like Steven

Marc understands that you're just naturally clingy. But of course he sets a boundary

That doesn't mean he doesn't like it when you give him a little affection here and there

He's just not used to so much

Give him his space for a bit

Jake Lockley

Jake honestly likes the clinginess as an ego boost and also as a show that you want him to be around more

It kind of gives him something to stick around and come out for other than handling a sticky situation that Steven and Marc need to get out of

You make his job something else other than just murder lol

He's all over you to be entirely honest

In general

He's down for PDA

If someone has an issue with him giving you kisses then they can go cry about it somewhere else

It's a mix of he's not used to positive physical touch so he wants more of it and that he's getting attention other than just negative attention

Also, he just finds it nice to hold you

It's honestly "Big scary guard dog who secretly likes getting it's belly rubbed" energy

#moonknight #moon knight #moonknight x reader #moon knight x reader #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader

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daizymax · 9 months

Text

a fanciful affair | hjs (m)

summary: your sister is getting married, and you are the maid of honor in the wedding party. to your surprise, the only other person in the wedding party is a previous fling whom you would have rather never encountered again, so maybe it's the “love in the air” that makes you agree to round two.

pairing: jisung x fem reader

genre: some angst, smut

word count: 8.9k

rating: mature (18+)

warnings & features: profanity; alcohol consumption; mentions of sibling favoritism; mentions of societal/parental pressures; some heteronormativity; the wedding takes place in a church but there aren’t any heavy religious elements; pessimistic views towards marriage; jisung and the reader have poor communication at first but eventually they start to get on the right track; graphic sexual content; mentions of (past) casual & drunken sex; some dirty talk; a little bit of foot play; vaginal fingering; oral sex; semi-public sex

author’s note: reuploaded from my old blog and rewritten for stray kids bc i wanted to. i hope you enjoy!

( click here to read on AO3 instead )

---

“I’m on my way right now.”

That part is essentially true.

“Yeah, I’m in the car.”

That part is a downright lie.

“Yes! Stop worrying so much. It's just the rehearsal, isn’t it?”

It takes two heartbeats for you to realize your mistake, at which point your heart practically stops. You close your eyes curse your loose lips. You hadn’t meant to say that last part out loud — it just slipped.

Detonation imminent in three... two... one...

“Just the rehearsal?!” Jihye screeches. “Are you kidding me right now? I mean, yeah, I guess it's just the rehearsal. …For my goddamn wedding! It’s only the practice for the most important event of my life. It needs to be perfect, and my Maid of Honor is probably still at home, probably not even dressed yet, telling me it's just the rehearsal. So typical of you, Y/N. Oh, and for the record, Mom and Dad aren't happy about you not being here yet, either.”

You reopen your eyes just to roll them, then return to fishing your car keys out of your bag.

They may not be happy, but it's not like your parents can be surprised by your tardiness. It’s their younger daughter — the perfect student, the perfect athlete, the perfect musician — who is the stable, reliable one.

Sure, you know for a fact that your mother and father love you. They’d do anything for you, give you anything and everything they can. But you’re also well aware that Jihye’s compliant, placating nature takes a lot less of a toll on them. Your parents must be beyond grateful for her. Their nerves are frayed and frazzled from suffering through your rambunctious “phase” that still hasn’t passed.

Your teenage years can be summed up in a series of jaundiced words, whiny protests, and indignant groans from your side of the ring, and stern lectures tapering off to exhausted sighs from your parents’ end. Whenever your attitude became too much, your mother and father would turn their attention to Jihye. She would present them with yet another trophy or academic achievement to soothe their souls and assure them that they were capable of raising a “successful” human being in the eyes of society.

These days, you are keeping your trend alive and well by refusing to conform to your parents’ expectations of settling down in a monogamous heterosexual relationship for the purpose of “stability” and starting a family of your own. And, just like always, your parents have turned to Jihye for comfort. They are spending a fortune on your baby sister’s wedding, a clear display that they favor the direction her life is going.

But Jihye — like most everyone else in the world — deserves happiness, of course, so why not try to make this special day as perfect as possible for her? If she wants to get married, she is certainly entitled to her dream wedding.

Just shy of four months ago, in a show of sibling camaraderie and familial commitment you knew would please your parents, you had promised to be nothing but supportive of all of your sister’s wedding plans, from the humblest of requests to the most exorbitant demands. Your stamina had kept up fairly well, but you are gradually losing steam as the end draws nearer.

Only a little over twenty-four more hours to go, you remind yourself with dull cheer.

Though, if you’re being completely honest, you aren’t even sure that Jihye getting married is such a good idea. At least not so soon, anyway.

She and her boyfriend (fiancé now, of course) had only been dating for eight months when he proposed. Surely that was not a long enough period of time to truly get to know another person, and you blatantly told her as much. But Jihye was over the moon and she couldn’t — wouldn’t — hear of it. She swore up and down that she knew in her bones Chris is definitely the one, which took you aback. Your sister was never one to be overly romantic. Jihye always, always keeps a calm, disciplined, pragmatic head on her shoulders. So even while you are quite skeptical of her declaration of having found her so-called soul mate, you also trust her judgment. She is the smartest person you know, after all.

Besides, you can’t deny that by the rigid standards of society which your parents hold in such high esteem, Chris is everything a husband “should” be. He is charming, handsome, clever, funny, financially stable, and the epitome of etiquette. And, above all, he seems to make Jihye genuinely happy. He hasn’t changed her, but he does get your uptight, austere little sister to giggle and joke and relax and adore life. You have to admit you’d be hard-pressed to find a better partner for her to spend the rest of her life with.

But do they have to be so hasty about it? And do they have to get married on their one-year-anniversary? It makes you want to gag.

Presently, you collect yourself and say, “I know, honey, I'm sorry. Still trying to get my shit together and act like I’m the older sister here.”

Jihye sighs quietly on the other end of the line. When she speaks again, her voice is much calmer and softer. “I didn’t mean it like—”

“Yeah, I know,” you say. “I'll be there in ten minutes, okay? And for the record, I am dressed.”

She giggles, and you know you’re on your way to being forgiven. “Okay. Drive safely, Y/N. See you soon.”

---

Everyone who arrived at the church on time gives you peculiar looks when you join them inside seventeen minutes later.

It takes a moment for you to realize it is because they all dressed up for the rehearsal while you are still clad in a pair of ripped, black denim shorts and a white tank top with the name of your favorite band advertised across your chest. Evidently the universe decided you just needed something else to mentally kick yourself over today. You only hope that Jihye and your parents will be too absorbed in other, more crucial details to waste energy scolding you.

No such luck.

In a flash, your mother is on you like a vulture to carrion.

“I thought we told you this would be semi-formal!” she whisper-hisses in your ear as she hugs you.

“Hi Mom,” you say with an unapologetic smirk. “Hi Dad.”

“Hi pumpkin, glad you could make it,” says your father. He leans down and pecks the air near your temple.

“Oh look, hon!” your mother exclaims to your father. Something behind you has caught her attention. “That must be Chris’s sister and her two kids. When did they get here? Let’s go say hello...”

As quickly as that, your mother ushers your father away to leave you standing alone, but only for a second.

“There you are!”

Oh no, it’s the Bridezilla! you panic playfully, turning towards the sound. Jihye waves excitedly and hurries towards you with quick and dainty stiletto’d steps. Her fiancé follows her at a much more leisurely pace, hands in his pockets.

Chris catches your gaze and smiles. Then he glances at the back of Jihye’s head, gives a slight shrug of his shoulders, and looks to you again with raised eyebrows as if to fondly say, Yeah, she’s been a little much today, but we love her.

You grin back at him from over your sister’s shoulder as she slams her frame into yours and wraps her arms around your neck affectionately. The scent of her signature shampoo makes you think of home.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” you say. “I'm the worst.”

“You are not, don’t say that. It’s fine, Y/N.” She might be reassuring herself more than you, but you’ll take it.

Jihye pulls back and squeezes your bare biceps. Her eyes sweep over your outfit in the same judging manner as your mother’s did, but she manages to hold her tongue. She’s trying to keep it together for the rest of the day.

“I’m just glad you’re here now,” she says instead, smiling warmly. “This should all be really simple. The minister already talked me, Chris, Mom, and Dad through most of it. We just need to ‘act it out.’ If we can just find your partner now, I think we’ll be ready to get started...”

By “partner” you know she means whoever Chris elected as his Best Man, whom you have never met before. His and Jihye’s relationship has been such a whirlwind that you’ve never gotten the chance.

It will just be you and the Best Man in the wedding party, which is one decision of Jihye’s for which you are admittedly thankful. Large wedding parties are typically too ostentatious in your opinion. Though you can’t help but wonder if there would have been more people involved if your sister had only given herself more time to plan.

Jihye peers around with sharp eyes. “Darling, have you seen Jisung?”

Chris also makes a cursory inspection around the place at her request.

“Hmm... Well, I don’t- Ah, here he comes now, sweetheart,” he says with a gesture of his hand somewhere to your left and Jihye’s right. You look to where he is indicating and see a man making his way towards the three of you from between the pews.

The immediate thought that registers in your mind is that he is extremely good-looking. Thick dark hair parted slightly off-center, eyes the color of bitter coffee, wide shoulders. The sleeves of his button-down shirt are rolled up to his elbows, granting a nice view of veined and sinewy forearms. He isn’t especially tall, but his legs are a bit long for his body proportions. His smile is wide but a little nervous for some reason…

… Oh no ...

You’ve seen him somewhere before.

You’ve spoken with him before.

You’ve slept with him before.

And he was one of the worst one-night-stands you have ever had.

It was something around six months ago when you had gone out with a group of friends to one of the city’s hottest night clubs. It was a scene you felt like you were starting to outgrow, to be honest, but your mission success rate had always been one-hundred-percent, and you were in the mood to score that night. The mission was simple: get laid.

It was always easy to find someone to take home or leave with for the night, sometimes scarily so. It was nothing a form-flattering dress, sexy heels, and a boat load of confidence had ever failed to accomplish, in your experience.

It was two shots and half a cocktail into the night when you spotted his friends dragging him to the dance floor. He was laughing, that much was clear. You think you may have even heard the sound of it over the chatter and thumping music. Maybe that was why you continued to watch him.

He was awkward getting started, likely embarrassed, but he was good when he finally let himself go and really dance. His friends were objectively better — their moves were sharper, cleaner — but it was he who held your attention. Even from a distance, you could see his bangs were damp from his exertions and the heat of the suffocating crowd. His face was dewy and glowing. Even while dancing, he didn’t stop laughing and talking with his friends.

“He’s cute,” said one of your girlfriends. “And he looks like he’s having a good time.”

You didn’t need to follow her line of sight to know who she was talking about — you’d already been staring at him for minutes.

It was when you had finally lowered your eyes to the dregs at the bottom of your glass when your friend had leaned in closer and said, “He's looking at you!”

You remember snapping your eyes up to find she was right. The music had changed, and the man didn’t look awkward at all as he stared right back at you. He must have caught you staring.

The events between then and when you entered his apartment were a thrilling mix of drinking, laughter, and shameless flirting. Some memories have been blurred by the shots you consumed, but others you remember vividly. His touch on the small of your back when he ushered you out the door. The heavy cloud of stale smoke in the Uber to his place. The exact angle of the tent in his pants while taking the elevator up to his apartment.

If only the X-rated scenes that transpired after tumbling into his bed were as worthy of such detailed remembrance.

He had been a messy kisser, but that was something easily excused by the healthy stream of alcohol muddying his veins. Unfortunately, it did not help his head skills as you’d hoped it would. His fervent desire to go down on you had initially turned you on greatly, but you soon grew frustrated at the sloppy way his tongue lapped at your folds — never in the right spots, and never with the right consistency. Several times you had climbed close to your climax, only to never quite crest.

Frustrated, you opted for urging him to just fuck you already with the prayer that having him inside of you would be better. And it was better... until he came within five minutes of entering you, pulled out, then slumped to the side.

Unfortunately, he was not the first man you had hooked up with to finish so quickly and leave you unsatisfied, but he was the first one to fall dead asleep within seconds afterward. He didn't even bother to remove the soiled condom from his softening dick first. You also left it right where it was and fled his place as quickly as possible, feeling an odd sense of petty payback while thinking of the gross mess he would have to deal with in the morning.

On your way home, you sulked over the disappointing night that you thought held so much potential. There had been such chemistry between the two of you at first, after all. Sadly, he ended up just being some hot guy you enjoyed flirting with for a couple hours and a pitiful story you could tell your friends about later.

You never expected to see or hear from him again, yet here he is. What a small, funny world.

Except you are far from laughing.

Your heart kicks into overdrive with worry and fear over the impending awkward situation, but you do your best not to let it show on your face. In fact, you resolve not to mention your previous acquaintance with Jisung at all. Definitely not in front of your sister and her fiancé at their wedding rehearsal.

You manage to get your heart rate down to what you estimate to be a smooth one-hundred-ten beats per minute by the time Jisung the Terrible Lay is standing directly in front of you.

“Hi,” he says, still smiling. “I'm Jisung. You must be Jihye’s Maid of Honor?”

Oh, so he’s also going to play dumb. Good.

You nod and introduce yourself (again) while giving his outstretched hand the briefest of shakes.

“So, how do you know Chris?” You mentally applaud yourself for the calm steadiness of your voice.

“Best friends since middle school,” is Jisung’s simple answer.

“I wish you two could have met ahead of time,” Jihye chimes in apologetically. “It would have been nice if you had gotten to know each other at least a little bit before the wedding. I should have made the time for all of us to go out to lunch or something, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, it’s no big deal,” says Jisung. His smiling eyes do not leave yours. “I mean, it’s not like we’re the ones getting married.”

He has the nerve to punctuate his stupid jest with a wink. You pretend to be flustered by forcing out a giggle in harmony with Jihye’s.

Your sister glances back and forth between you and Jisung for a moment, and you can practically see the gears turning in her head. It wouldn’t be a surprise if she took a stab at playing matchmaker at some point today to hook the two of you up.

Already beat you to it, you brood silently.

“Shall we get this show on the road, then?” Chris asks.

“Please,” agrees Jihye. She waves to the minister to signal she is ready, and he nods.

The minister takes his place near the alter and requests that everyone else congregate at the other end of the chapel. Jisung sidles up next to you at a proximity that is a bit too close to just be friendly, but you refuse to acknowledge him by even moving away.

It’s funny how senses work — a whiff of his cologne takes you straight back to that night. Your memory flashes you a vision of you leaning against his arm on wobbly legs, and you suddenly remember the feeling of his warm, slightly callused hands cupping your elbows to steady you. You swear you can even remember the sound of his amused laughter at your inelegant state, and the taste of his beer breath in the air.

You force yourself out of your reverie before you become lost in it.

“It’ll be very simple, everyone,” assures the minister, echoing Jihye’s earlier words. “I think everyone has already been made aware of the seating arrangements, so let’s just get straight into the processional order, and then do a rundown of what the ceremony itself will entail...”

As more instructions are given, Jisung leans into you and murmurs under his breath, “You look nice today.”

A laugh almost escapes you at his unexpected comment. He utters it with the perfect ratio of humor and sincerity.

You manage to play off the smile on your lips by flashing it towards the woman your mother said to be Chris’s sister when you suddenly catch her eye.

“Uh, thanks,” you say to Jisung in an equally hushed tone.

“I mean it,” he insists. “You look every bit as pretty as when I saw you in the club.”

You ignore his compliment and try to move your lips as little as possible as you say, “Can we please not talk about that here?”

Jisung lets out a soft snort of laughter. “Sure, no problem.”

He leaves your side when his turn comes to practice standing behind Chris near the alter, and you follow immediately after to take your place on the opposite side, all too aware of his eyes on you for the remainder of the rehearsal.

---

His eyes are still on you when you take a seat directly across from him at the dinner table.

Jihye, in her mildly Bridezilla-esque way, opted to forgo the big, customary rehearsal dinner with the families in favor of a more intimate meal with just her fiancé, her fiancé’s Best Man, and her Maid of Honor. Your parents were more than a little offended about not being included, and perhaps Chris’s were, too, but who were they to deny a bride’s request on the eve of her wedding day? What they don’t realize is that this is the cordial outing Jihye wished she’d planned for just the four of you months ago. It took everything in you not to roll your eyes when she suggested this arrangement back at the chapel, but you weren’t at liberty to reject her wishes any more than your parents were.

“Ah, I’m so glad we’re doing this now!” Jihye says buoyantly. She even bounces a little in her seat to show how physically overcome with joy she is. She beams back and forth between you, Jisung, Chris, and back to you again. Sometimes you still see your kid sister in her.

“Absolutely,” Chris agrees at once.

“Yeah, this is... lovely,” you decide unenthusiastically. You swivel your eyes back to your menu when your sister shoots you a scolding look that says: Be nice.

“So, have you guys been here before?” Jisung asks the betrothed couple conversationally, waving a hand through the air to show he is talking about the restaurant.

“We came here on our first date, actually,” Jihye answers in a chipper tone. She scrunches her nose at Chris in a cutesy way and proceeds to tell the table all about the memory.

In the spirit of neatly categorizing him back into place amongst your other lousy one-night stands and nothing more, you try not to grant Jisung too much of your attention when you fall into the conversation. It proves to be quite difficult, however. Listening to and observing him in this casual, non-sexually-charged scenario is intriguing. It also brings to mind a thought that had not occurred to you before: Jisung could make a wonderful boyfriend.

You had been so wrapped up in your mission of merely hooking up that night months ago that you never stopped to think about whether or not the person you went home with could be more than a one-night-stand, or could even be dating material.

But Jisung is.

He’s witty but not arrogant. Funny but not obnoxious. Charming but not cheesy. Gorgeous but not conceited. His smile is distracting and compelling. His stories are interesting and comical. His laughter is merry and infectious.

No wonder he’s best friends with perfect-fucking-Chris. But there has to be something wrong with him...

And then you remember there is, in fact, a catch: his bedroom manner.

That thought makes you snort out loud into your drink, and you sweep away the romantic notions clouding your mind.

Some time between dinner and dessert, a local band begins to play music near the dance floor, and Chris whisks a giggling Jihye away from the table. As soon as they are gone, you contemplate making up an excuse to slip out, but Jisung is already speaking to you.

“Good, we’re alone now,” he says.

“Good? How so?” The question spoken with a different tone could sound cute and flirty, but the flat disinterest in your mumbled words is moody and a bit harsh even to your own ears. It doesn’t appear to dampen Jisung’s sunny demeanor, though.

He simply grins and says, “Because now we can talk to each other.”

You shrug your shoulders. “We’ve been talking.”

“Don’t play coy with me, pretty lady,” he says. “You know what I mean. We can talk about the night we met, and why we haven’t met up since.”

You groan and cross your arms over your chest as you lean back in your chair. “I’d really rather not.”

Is he really that clueless? If he truly has no idea what went wrong that night, it is not worth your time explaining it to him. But god damn him for being so handsome and likable otherwise...

“Okay...” Jisung says slowly. “If you don’t want to talk, then how about a dance?”

“What, here? Now? I don't think so.”

“What if I put it this way: we can sit here and talk like adults, or we can dance and I won’t say a word. What do you think?”

The silent dance is definitely the lesser of two evils in your mind, but you are afraid of what other nostalgic feelings could be dredged up while in that intimate situation. Your only real option is to elude the decision he wants you to make.

“You can’t make me do either,” you say.

Jisung’s grin widens. “Is that a challenge? What if I picked you up and carried you to the dance floor?”

You allow yourself a laugh at his joke. “Do you think that would be cute or something? I think everyone else in this restaurant would throw your ass out for trying, especially if I was kicking and screaming the whole way.”

“You wouldn’t dare cause a scene like that, would you?”

“You wouldn't cause a scene like that, would you?” you throw back at him.

“I just might.”

“Do it, then. I dare you.”

The pair of you sit there smirking across the table at each other in a weird sort of stand-off, waiting for the other to make a move. He caves first by breaking the silence.

“Dance with me,” Jisung implores in a soft, honeyed tone. His eyes twinkle brightly. He looks wholly unafraid of being rejected.

God, he really is clueless, isn’t he?

“No, thank you,” you answer shortly, stubbornness getting the better of you.

“Would you dance with me if I was the last man on Earth?”

His follow-up question comes as a surprise. He must be determined to get some sort of positive answer from you tonight.

The best you can do is laugh away the silly question and wish him a good night. When you get up to leave, Jisung offers to at least walk you to your car, and after a moment of hesitation, you agree.

You both say hasty goodbyes to Jihye and Chris on your way out. Jihye pouts a little at your abrupt departure, but she doesn’t complain, and you know it is because she is pleased to see you walking out with Jisung. Everything looks to be going according to plan in her brilliant match-making mind.

When you and Jisung reach your car in the parking lot, you turn to tell him goodbye once again.

“You were really awful in bed,” you find yourself blurting, apparently unable to keep the words bottled a single second longer.

Jisung at least has the decency to flinch at your blunt assessment. The wrinkle of his face is noticeable before he turns his head away and takes a step back from you. You wait for him to retort, but he stays silent.

Unbelievable, you think. He’s not even going to defend himself.

Just as you turn to leave, his fingers close around your wrist. True to the nature of electricity, a spark jolts through you nearly instantaneously. His hold is delicate but it feels as though you are being branded. You whip your head around to regard him curiously.

“Sorry,” he says, letting go of your wrist as quickly as he grabbed it. “Just— please wait. Let me say something. Please.” He emphasizes the pleasantry as if it means all the difference. He takes a deep breath; it goes in shaky and comes out resigned. “I know I was terrible. I could make excuses about being drunk and about you being so fucking pretty that I couldn’t help myself from coming so quickly. Both of which are true, for the record, but they’re shitty excuses and you deserve better because from what I can tell, you’re a pretty great woman. All I can say is that I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, Y/N, you don’t even know how sorry I am. And I know you don’t owe me anything, but I would love to have a chance for us to start over.”

At the end of his little speech, he reaches out for your wrist again and gives your hand a little squeeze. It is a soft gesture and over in a flash, but a warm tingle still ripples through your body and doesn’t fade.

You can still feel it on the drive home... in the shower... when you climb into bed.

You can still see his smile reflected in your windshield... against the tiles in your bathroom... in the blackness of your room.

You can still hear his laughter in the lonely car ride... over the drumming of the water in the tub... over the serenade of crickets outside your window.

And you can’t understand why it matters to you so much that he was terrible in bed that one single time.

---

The ceremony went off without a hitch.

The decorated chapel — stuffed with flowers, wreaths, streamers, candles, bows, as well as people donned in silk, lace, velvet, perfume, diamonds, gold and pearls — was a vision worthy of any bridal magazine showcasing the “ideal” wedding. Beyond the floor-length glass windows, the sky was dyed like cotton candy from the fading sunlight. A violinist stood to one side and played light, dreamy tones before and during the processional, then the classic Wedding March for the bride’s entrance.

Jihye played the part of the radiant bride beautifully. Seeing your little sister’s eyes coated in glassy tears as she walked down the aisle on your father’s arm, then hearing the tremble in her normally steady and authoritative voice as she vowed her devotion to another person (all while wearing a several-thousand-dollar dress meant for this one single occasion) was almost enough to make you cry, too.

Several times during the vows, you couldn’t stop yourself from looking across the aisle just to see the beautiful smile on Jisung’s face. It had been there since he met you at the other end of the aisle and presented you with a beautiful, white orchid corsage to match the boutonniere pinned to his lapel. When he slipped it onto your wrist, the touch of his slender fingers started to rekindle the spark the two of you had had months ago.

“You look beautiful,” Jisung had whispered in your ear. “You are beautiful.”

The same could have been said of him in his dapper black tuxedo and bow tie, but you could not locate your voice to tell him as much.

The nervous flutter of your heart was made visibly apparent in the way your fingers trembled when he lifted them to kiss the back of your hand, but Jisung couldn’t take notice because his gaze was fixed on your face, and yours was fixed on his in return. The pools of his eyes were so easy to drown in.

In that moment, immersed in the whimsical atmosphere all around you, you were prepared to give him the answer you couldn’t give him last night when he proposed to starting over. You were ready to tell him you had been foolish for not giving him a second thought all these months, and you would appreciate a do-over very much.

But then Jihye was hissing from somewhere off to the side for Jisung to get moving, and you lost the chance to speak your wishes. Something about the small bounce in Jisung’s gait down the aisle told you he already knew what you had wanted to say, however.

Now, here at the reception, it is time to forget about such sappy things and get drunk.

If only the waiter with the tray of champagne would circle back around so you don’t have to go chasing after him and start up some “alcoholic spinster” rumors for your family to enjoy at your expense.

“Hi!” Jisung appears at your side like a miracle, bearing a knowing grin and two flutes of the same champagne you were just ogling. “You looked like you needed a drink,” he says, letting you lift one from between his fingers.

Your lips are already around the edge of the glass. “Was it that obvious?”

“A little, but hey, who cares? It’s a party.” He pauses for a sip of his own drink, then says, “I liked your Maid of Honor speech, by the way. The story about your little car surfing adventure was hilarious.”

“Oh, thanks,” you giggle. “I’m afraid my parents didn’t find it quite as funny.”

“Well, no, but they wouldn’t, would they?” Jisung laughs. “But they did like the part when you said that Jihye getting married is far braver than all your teenage stunts combined.”

You hum in agreement. “Hm. Yeah. Luckily, they don’t seem to know the difference between bravery and stupidity.”

Jisung’s grin tilts lopsidedly at your comment. “Not a big, uh, proponent of the whole marriage thing, I take it?”

“Nah,” you dismiss at once. “There are billions and billions of people in this world, and folks want to tie themselves to just one with a sheet of paper recognized by the government? To some person they met in a teeny tiny corner of the world without ever having stepped outside of the thirty mile radius they’ve lived in for their entire life?” The bubbly alcohol in your glass sloshes haphazardly as your hands become animated, but you pay it no mind. “And so many marriages just end in divorce anyway, so then people have to go through that whole fuckery. Lose half their money, half their shit. And the things they do get to keep, they have to look at and get a big fat reminder of how they picked it out with their ex-spouse during a time when they thought they were in love. They probably went to the store that day hand-in-hand and had no idea things were going to totally implode spectacularly—”

“Whoa, whoa, wait a minute,” Jisung interrupts, laughing loudly. “How drunk are you right now? Maybe I should take that back...”

“I'm not drunk!” you say hotly and a bit too loudly, jerking your glass away even though he isn’t actually reaching for it. A few nearby heads turn in your direction, so you lower your voice and grit, “I’m not drunk.”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry.” The expression on his face does not look particularly sorry. “Can I ask you something else without you going off on a rant?”

You deflate with a sigh, calming yourself before saying, “Sure, what is it?”

“Dance with me?”

You force the corners of your mouth down a bit to prevent your smile from growing too wide at the sparkle of amusement in his eyes.

“Sure.”

He does take your drink now, setting it aside with his before taking your hand next.

If people are watching the two of you when you step onto the dance floor together, you are oblivious. The only thing you can focus on is the warmth of Jisung’s other hand radiating through your dress from its place on the small of your back when he pulls you in close, and the solid plane of his chest heating you from the front. You absently wonder if he can feel your heart racing. You think maybe you can feel his.

“I haven’t looked around in a minute,” Jisung says quietly when you both settle into the soft rhythm of the music and begin gently rotating. “But am I suddenly the last man on Earth?”

An ungraceful bark of laughter pops out of your mouth. Too late, you cover your lips with your fingers, but Jisung does not accept the movement of your hand. He reaches and brings it back to his shoulder, then gives it a few pats as if to embed it firmly into place.

“You’re not the last man on Earth,” you admit without looking at him.

“So you want to dance with me?” he presses, playfully ducking his face into your view to force your eyes on him.

You exhale a softer laugh. “I do.”

“Funny. Your sister said those exact same words a little while ago.”

“So did your best friend.”

Jisung curls his lips down and protrudes his chin thoughtfully. “I guess that makes them both stupid.”

“Or brave,” you argue matter-of-factly.

“Yeah. Or brave.”

A few silent twirls go by before he speaks up again.

“I have another question,” he begins slowly, then goes quiet for long enough that you eventually look at him questioningly. The resident smile is gone from his face because his lips are pressed together rather seriously.

“What’s your question, Jisung?”

He parts his tight lips and whispers, “If I were to kiss you right now, would you consider it brave or stupid of me?”

If he could not adequately feel your heartbeat a moment ago, he certainly should be able to now.

You take a moment to consider your words. “Neither,” you finally decide. “I’d consider it cliché.”

“Ah. Well, what do you think about cliché, then?”

You swallow hard. “I think I can handle it.”

To put that statement to the test, Jisung suddenly dips you backwards, and you squeak in surprise. He keeps his eyes locked on yours while waiting to see if you will protest. After a long enough moment of receiving no resistance, he leans in after you and matches his grinning lips to yours.

Several whistles and cat calls ring out all around you. The supportive sounds encourage Jisung to lift you back upright and continue the kiss ardently, which you reciprocate in full. Instead of simply enjoying it, your brain chooses to analyze the kiss and how much it differs from the last time you did this with him — in a good way. Either he has been practicing or alcohol completely abolishes all sense of his coordination.

With that thought, you start to laugh until you are unable to maintain contact with his lips. Jisung celebrates your laughter by beaming and squeezing you tightly.

The audience of people crowded around begins to applaud at the endearing display. Even the bride and groom — the people who should be the sole center of attention all night — are standing on the sidelines clapping their approval. It’s as if none of them have ever witnessed two people kissing before.

Then you see the unmistakably hopeful look on your parents’ faces, and it dawns on you that they are excited by the prospect of you entering an actual relationship with someone. You know how their minds work. No doubt they are already going so far as marrying you off to Jisung despite the fact that he is essentially a stranger to them — and to you.

Those bothersome thoughts threaten to spoil your cheerful mood, but Jisung reels you back in by pecking your mouth chastely. It feels like the punctuation to an unspoken agreement to a new start.

You gift him with a flattered smile and allow him to lead you back into another dance, and everyone else resumes their own business.

The fast pace of the next song immediately reminds you of the infamous night that has been on your mind ever since Jisung reappeared in your life yesterday. The way his eyes are following the motion of your hips tells you that he is remembering, too. With just a few well-timed shakes and some not-so-accidental brushes, things quickly alter from sweet and charming to hot and tense.

Jisung brings his lips to the edge of your cheek and whispers towards your earlobe, “You’re giving me some dangerous thoughts right now, baby.”

Boldly, you entreat, “Tell me.”

He sucks in a breath through his teeth. “I’m thinking about asking if you want to get out of here, but I don’t think I should.”

The scent of his cologne tinged with just a hint of sweat is positively intoxicating. The tips of his fingers grazing along your hips makes you lightheaded in the best possible way.

“Why not?” you ask.

“Well, you see, the last time I left with you like that, I screwed up and didn’t see you for six months,” he tells you. The smile on his face is a bit forlorn. “I don’t want to make the mistake of sleeping with you too soon again. I want this new start to be perfect.”

His words are wise. You put your hormones on pause for a moment and envision yourself going on sweet dates with him in all the usual places — to the beach, to an amusement park, to his favorite café — before one night the two of you finally make love to each other in a perfectly romantic setting.

As darling as all of that would be, you have no patience for it now. There will be plenty of time for those fanciful scenarios later. Or at least, that’s what you’re planning on.

“The problem wasn’t us sleeping together too soon,” you explain. “The problem was that you were bad.” You pinch his earlobe to let him know you mean what you say, but in a playful manner.

Jisung snorts and shakes his head away from your fingers. He seems unwilling to say more on the matter, so you have to continue and make your desires known.

“Jisung, I’ve been waiting for months to get laid at this reception, and you’re the only one here I’m interested in following through with now,” you level seriously. “Besides, if we’re starting over, I need to know that the first time was a fluke.”

“It was a fluke,” he insists.

You press your lips to the shell of his ear. “So prove it.”

When you pull back, there is still a somewhat hesitant expression on Jisung’s face, but the desire in his eyes is growing; the brown that used to be there is being swallowed by black lust. His gentlemanly resolve is crumbling.

“Can the Best Man and the Maid of Honor even leave the reception?” he worries, still clinging to his better judgment.

Good question. Honestly, you have no idea what the standard protocol is for the wedding party’s attendance after the ceremony is finished and the obligatory speeches have already been made at the reception.

You contemplate just going to Jihye and telling her outright that you and Jisung are leaving. Certainly she has no further need for you to be here. But then again, there is probably something more you are supposed to be doing for her. Helping with the gifts or cleaning up the mess afterward, perhaps. But didn’t she hire a crew for that? You can’t remember. In any case, you can hear her incredulous tone now, scolding you for wanting to duck out early on her big night just to hook up with Jisung — even though she wants you two to become a thing.

You gaze around and spot your sister sitting beside her new husband at their specially reserved table, feeding him a bite from her fork and laughing. She seems distracted enough for the moment.

“We don’t have to leave. We just have to be quick,” you say, taking Jisung’s hand and tugging determinedly. “Come on.”

You half expect him to remain rooted in place and hiss another anxious remark at you, but he comes along willingly. The things you assume of him never go as expected; you should probably stop assuming things altogether.

Without stopping to survey the curious looks that you know are being shot in your direction — because it is clear that you are moving with a purpose and Jisung is along for the ride — you lead Jisung straight to a side room containing the gifts you were just wondering about and shut the door behind you. Not a second is spared before you grab the flaps of Jisung’s tuxedo jacket to pull him in for a more heated kiss.

“This is crazy,” he laughs after you release his lips again with a wet suction noise.

It is crazy, but it is also too thrilling to stop.

“Well, it wouldn’t be my sister’s wedding reception if I didn’t try to cause some sort of scandal,” you joke off-handedly.

“You mean your speech wasn’t inappropriate enou- hnghh, holy shit.” Jisung’s laughter dries up when he witnesses you sliding your panties off from beneath your dress. You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he gulps.

With a smirk, you say, “Come on, we have to be quick, remember?”

Your fingers work quickly at unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants. Your hand slides past the band of his underwear to find him not very hard, but not completely soft, either. His breath hitches at your touch.

“Ffffuck,” Jisung breathes. “You really want it, don’t you?”

You grin wickedly. “Mhm. Really want to be fucked the way I should have been months ago.”

You give his cock a squeeze, earning a full moan from him. You rub him up and down as best as you can from the angle permitted by the confines of his clothing. His cock stiffens rapidly and a lustful sigh overflows from his mouth.

With a few quick shifts and yanks, you guide his erection out of his pants and boxers and drop to your knees in front of it. You don’t remember it being quite this thick, but you’re pleased. It looks so delicious. The head is ruby red, and the vein curving around the smooth underside looks fit to burst.

Jisung gasps at the first kittenish lick you draw on the slit of his cock. One of his hands comes down to hold the side of your face. You peer up at him through your lashes and smile as you press the head of his cock against the tip of your tongue. He groans lowly in his chest at the sight.

“We don’t have much time,” he tells you as though you haven’t already told him as much. His voice is already getting husky. “So we’d better make the most of it.”

Unexpectedly, he curls his hands around your arms and pulls you back up to your feet. The action utterly confuses you. No man you have ever been with has ever stopped a blowjob before it has even started, and there is no way he could have misinterpreted your intentions. Is he afraid of coming too soon again? That’s certainly a likely possibility.

Before you can question him, Jisung takes the back of your head and brings you in so he can slant his mouth over yours. The force with which he crashes into you is enough to bruise your delicate lips, but oddly enough, you don’t mind. The sincere passion he is pouring into the kiss is burning you from the inside out. He moves to assault your neck next, freeing you to speak.

“Jisung, what—” You clear the rasp in your voice and start again. “Why did you stop me? I wanted to—”

He interrupts you with a moan that rattles against your collarbone. “I know, baby. As much as I would love to have your lips around my dick, the point of this is to make you feel good right now. We can worry about me later.”

He breaks away from your skin to glance around the room. There isn’t exactly a four-poster bed in the vicinity, so he decides the best option is to sit you down in a small chair. Either that or the gift table, but that feels like it would be a bit too disrespectful to Jihye and Chris.

Jisung kneels in front of you and removes your heels carefully as you take a seat. His thumbs rub gentle circles into your smooth skin as he shuffles closer to you on his knees and leans in to peck your lips twice. His touch is sweet and relaxing, letting you know without words that he is going to take good care of you. The anticipation is nearly overwhelming.

Soon, Jisung’s fingers trail upwards, following the muscled lines of your calves under the skirt of your dress. You swiftly drag the expensive fabric up over your thighs to give him unfettered access. He grins at you then looks down at the view you have so generously granted him. His hands creep higher and higher on your legs until he is tantalizingly close to where you need him most.

“Jisung, we can’t take too long,” you remind him impatiently. The whine in your tone is apparent, but you don’t care.

“I know, baby,” he says again. One of his index fingers skims just over the lips of your pussy. “Indulge me for just a minute, please.”

He distracts you with another kiss, and you meet his probing tongue with a whimper of need. Since using words isn’t an option at the moment, you try to convey in other ways how much you need him right now. You pull on his arms and at his hair. Your feet glide along his legs and he opens them wider. When your toes bump against his cock still standing out from his pants, he groans loudly against your mouth, and you can tell it is not out of pain. He likes it. Emboldened by his reaction, you press the ball of your foot directly against his cockhead with a bit more pressure.

“Fuck, that feels good,” he pants against your chin. “I bet you’re good with your feet.”

Honestly, you have never tried serious foot play, but he sounds turned on enough to make you want to try.

“Maybe you’ll find out,” you tease with a giggle. “Right now I want you to prove you’re good with your fingers.”

“You got it, baby.”

He finally pushes a thick finger between your folds and curls it, beckoning a gasp into your lungs. Your hips automatically jerk forward to seek more friction. Jisung obliges your body language and buries a second finger deep inside your walls alongside the first.

“Shit. Your pussy is even tighter than I remember.”

“Have you thought about my pussy a lot these past six months?”

“Absolutely,” Jisung admits freely, and you have no reply for his honesty because you were not expecting it.

He draws his fingers out to just the tips, then plunges them back inside without delay. He repeats the motion again and again, gradually increasing the pace. The sounds coming from your core are sticky and obscene. Your eyes roll back in your head, and your head falls back as well.

“Fuck, just like that,” you urge breathlessly. “Touch my clit, too, please. I need more.”

Jisung lets out a hungry moan. Instead of using his thumb like you figured he would, he bends forward to brush his tongue against your swollen bud. Your thighs twitch reflexively at the sudden contact on your most sensitive area, ready to either snap against his head to stop him or fall away even further to invite him in. They decide on the latter.

A whimper squeezes out of you, along with a string of barely coherent encouragements.

“Oh God, J-Jisung. Yes, yes, y-yes! Like that. Don’t stop. F-Fingers a little s-slower. Tongue faster. Please. Oh f-fuck, yes!”

He redistributes his weight on his knees to get comfortable between your legs, then hastens to follow your commands. His tongue sharpens and digs relentlessly into your clit. The points of his fingers graze against your g-spot with each deliberate stroke, and that’s when you twist your fingers in his hair.

“God d-damn it, Jisung,” you moan. Your body starts to writhe uncontrollably, trying to ride his face to your finish.

“Yes, baby,” he coos sweetly, face still planted firmly against you. The vibrations of his voice tickle your clit gloriously, and you can feel his grin against your hot skin. “You taste like fucking heaven. Is this good? Does it feel good?”

“Yes, fuck, oh, fuck, k-keep going.”

He hums and continues with renewed vigor.

Every time his fingers drag backwards from your pussy, you suck them right back in with a tight squeeze. His lips wrap around your clit and his tongue slips under the hood. The ministrations on your raw bundle of nerves drive you straight to the edge of madness.

Your fingers curl against Jisung’s warm scalp. Your toes curl against the cold tile floor. Your back stiffens to keep your center firmly locked against Jisung’s face. Your breath hangs suspended in your chest for a long moment...

...then suddenly you’re exhaling it with an expletive cry of satisfaction when you tumble over that blissful edge. Spasms wrack through your body repeatedly as it struggles to harbor the intense pleasure crashing over you.

Somewhere in your electrified mind, you are aware of Jisung’s other hand on one of your hips, trying to pin you back down to the chair. You let go of him and move back quickly when you realize you must be suffocating him, and his fingers slip from you in the process with one last parting squelch. When you look down at him, you can clearly see the glisten of your juices slathered over his nose and chin and mouth.

His grinning mouth.

“I think you enjoyed that, baby,” he comments proudly, “considering I just about drowned just now.”

You huff out a laugh and shake your fuzzy head. “Fucking hell, Jisung. Why the fuck couldn’t you have been that good the first time?”

“I wish I could have been. Then I would’ve been doing this with you this whole time.”

“Oh, you think so? You think we would’ve stayed together up to now?” You grin at him and push your toes against his shoulder playfully.

He doesn’t answer you right away. First, he takes your foot and brings it up to his sticky lips to kiss the pads of your toes gently, one by one. Your smile falters when your mouth droops open at the strangely erotic sight, but his smile only widens.

“Yeah, that’s what I think, pretty lady.”

His presumptuous yet sweet admission leaves you speechless. All you can do is tug him towards you to kiss him with newfound admiration, heedless of the mess still glued to his lips. Truthfully, you relish the taste of yourself on him; you think of it as proof of the capabilities you thought he lacked, and you have never been happier to stand corrected.

Jisung is the one to break away first, still smiling. “Can I have one more dance before I take you out of here to make you come some more? Preferably on my dick this time?”

The bizarre combination of endearing and lewd words makes you laugh heartily. What a surprising man he has turned out to be.

“Absolutely.”

---

if you enjoyed, please consider re-blogging and/or leaving me some feedback. take care! ♡

#han smut #jisung smut #han jisung smut #stray kids smut #skz smut #han x reader #jisung x reader #han jisung x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #a fanciful affair #daizymax

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nina-ya · 6 months

Note

HI BBYYYYYYYY first off, your writing is so good and yummy I'm literally eating so well I think about your Sanji wound patching nightly on god no CAP

But uhh, if it's alright, maybe, if you want, no pressure, may I have a wound patching for Doffy? You can toss me in the trash if the answer is no dw 💗 /g

Patching up Doflamingos Wounds

Zoro Law Sanji Shanks Ace Luffy Sabo Doflamingo

A/N: UMIIIIIIII I'm glad you enjoyed the Sanji one I am going to only write Sanji from now on just for you /hj OF COURSE YOU CAN GET DOFLAMINGO I went uh a bit in a different direction with this one I COULDNT HELP MYSELF AAAAA I HOPE YOU LIKE IT Pairing: Donquixote Doflamingo x Reader CW: Doflamingo being a manipulative shit. Choking, blood/wound licking, nicknames (my dear and good girl), bondage. WC: 954

You had devised your escape plan from the clutches of Donquixote Doflamingo, believing it to be foolproof. Weeks of relentless effort had been poured into sharpening a minuscule shard of sea prism stone, honing it to a razor's edge. In the dead of night, while Doflamingo slept, his strings binding you to the bed right beside him, you began sawing through the tough restraints with your treasured shard.

As you regained the use of your limbs, you inched your way toward the slumbering blonde, heart pounding with a mixture of fear and determination. With a quick, calculated movement, you drove the shard deep into his chest, holding your breath to stifle any sound. Your heart raced as you bolted away from him, fleeing as far and fast as your legs could carry you.

In your eyes, the plan was flawless. The sea prism shard would nullify his devil fruit's powers, rendering him defenseless and too weakened to give chase. But oh, how cruelly naive you had been. You didn't make it far before the telltale sensation of Doflamingo's viscous strings coiled tightly around your throat. In an instant, your air supply was cut off, your vision clouded, and the world faded to darkness.

You gradually regained consciousness, your surroundings coming into focus as you blinked away the haze. The disheartening truth was undeniable; you were back in Doflamingo's bedroom, ensnared in his clutches. Your hands and feet were cruelly bound to the bedposts, leaving you utterly defenseless. Disorientation and fear clouded your thoughts.

Doflamingo, the sadistic puppet master himself, lounged in a chair nearby, legs casually spread apart. The wound you'd inflicted on his chest remained untreated, seeping with crimson life essence that painted a morbid tapestry across his abdomen.

"Fufufufu, look who's finally decided to rejoin the living," he taunted with a malicious grin.

The stark realization of your failed plan set your heart pounding relentlessly. Tears welled in your eyes, and you felt the beginnings of panic swell within you.

Doflamingo's laughter mocked your despair. "You know, I have to admit, that was quite the creative plan you hatched," he continued, his sinister delight in your agony palpable. He extended his puppeteer strings to encircle your head, forcing you to meet his sinister gaze. "That scheme might have had a chance to succeed... against anyone but me." His fingers tightened around the sea prism stone shard before extracting it from his chest, the gleaming relic of your failed attempt. Blood gushed more profusely from the grievous wound, painting the shard in a scarlet hue. "Where did you get this, my dear?" he inquired, his tone deceptive in its casual cruelty.

Overwhelmed by terror, you stammered out your answer, voice quivering with desperation. "I found it on the street! A marine was wielding a weapon coated with sea prism stone, and a piece chipped off, so I... I took it!" Each word felt like a desperate plea to loosen his stranglehold on your body.

His laughter echoed through the room, a haunting noise in response to your futile struggle. "You're smarter than you appear," he commented, setting the shard aside before using his threads to forcefully draw you toward him. Your body knelt between his outstretched legs, vulnerable and at his mercy. "However, your audacity has consequences." He reached out to your face, his fingers tracing your skin with an eerie tenderness. "I could punish you severely for this act... condemn you to perpetual darkness, deprive you of sustenance, sell you into servitude to the wretched and abandon you to decay..." His hand paused in its exploration. "But you've treated me well. I've grown rather fond of you, wouldn't you agree?"

Your voice trembled with fear and pain, words stumbling from your lips. "Yes... I just want to treat you well," you whispered, tears and blood mixing in a gruesome display as they dripped onto the floor. Submission was your only option, the torment too much to bear.

"Good," he declared, an evil glint in his eyes. "You can begin by cleaning up the mess you've created." He motioned to the wound on his chest, your confusion now apparent.

Doflamingo yanked on the strings again, forcing you to lurch forward until your face hovered dangerously close to the wound. "Clean it," he ordered, a command that left no room for refusal. You reluctantly understand his demand, leaning closer to the source of your torment. Your mouth opens, and your tongue timidly grazes the edge of the cut, the taste of metallic blood overpowering your senses. You trace the contours of the wound, the sickening flavor and texture nearly making you retch.

An involuntary cough escapes you as you swallow the blood, your body shivering from the overwhelming emotions. After what feels like an eternity, Doflamingo releases you, using his threads to neatly stitch up his wound. He raises your head, his gaze locking onto your soul. With a cruel grin, he leans in closer.

"You won't dare to act so foolishly again, will you?" he demands, his icy eyes drilling into yours. You respond with a frantic shake of your head, desperation evident in your eyes. He seems satisfied with your answer, a cruel chuckle escaping him. "Good girl... that's the response I wanted."

Before you can react, he closes the gap between your lips and his in a forceful, open-mouthed kiss. His tongue invades your mouth, a familiar intrusion that you've grown numb to. He moans, savoring the sensations and flavors. When he breaks the kiss, a string of saliva lingers, a vile reminder of your powerlessness.

"You'll need to do much more to make it up to me," he states ominously, your heart sinking at the promise of what awaits you.

#one piece #one piece x reader #donquixote doflamingo #doflamingo x reader #doflamingo #donquixote doflamingo x reader

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lucimarinee · 1 month

Text

Pushover | dbf!Joel x f!Reader

Pairing: dbf!Joel x f!Reader

Summary: God knows you were born either with a spine made out of bubble wrap, or just spineless entirely, it's honestly kind of sad. It bothers you, of course, how everyone else seems to know that too. Quiet, pliable and unconfrontational, you were raised to occupy the least amount of space possible, and be out of the way most, if not all, of the time, and that's not really the recipe for an assertive, self-assured woman, now, is it? No, it's not, and you are painfully aware of that. And you become even more aware of that when you go back to Texas to visit your estranged dad, on your summer break from a college course you don't really want to pursue, to spend what was supposed to be a time of relaxation surrounded by people that seem to think it's funny to push your buttons, it annoys you to no end. But no one seems to get on your nerves more than that asshole your father calls his "best friend", Joel Miller, one of those old school kinds of men who have an irreverent attitude, a bite to their sense of humor, perceptive eyes, an unwavering voice to declare his will, and a penchant for provoking you.

Warnings: NO OUTBREAK, age gap (Joel is in his late-forties/early-fifties, reader is in her early twenties), praise kink, annoyance as foreplay /hj, fingering.

Word Count: 14,756

a/n: this was posted on ao3 first, you can find it here, but I thought that I should use my Tumblr too. This one-shot has a funny story, that being I woke up in the dead of night to write it because I "dreamed about it" when I was half asleep, I like to joke that I was possessed, I didn't stop writing until it was posted. Anyway, my first Tumblr post in this style, I hope you enjoy it :).

__________________________________________________________

You had a feeling the day was going to go badly, or at least less than ideal, but it's getting a bit too much, now.

It was just a combination of small things piling up on you.

It started in your plane, you had just boarded, barely even sat down, and a woman approached you with an attitude that reeked of veiled aggressiveness, asking you if "you'd be so kind to change seats" with her, so she could sit next to her husband. Unsure if it was the pressure of her gaze on you, or just the fact you're not very good at saying "no" , you obliged, moving from your nice window seat at the front of the plane — that you chose and paid for specifically —, to a middle seat further back.

No big deal, you thought, it was just a couple wanting to sit together, sure, they should have planned their trip better and booked their seats properly, like you did, but it would be, at the very least, unpolite if you said no. What reason did you have to deny her request, after all? "No, ma'am, I paid for this seat, I'd like to stay here" ? Sounds selfish, and you're not selfish.

Of course, the change to an uncomfortable seat, squished between two strangers, made the trip a lot longer, but eventually you landed, and it was all over. Until you heard there was a mishap with the luggage, so your baggage would be delayed, making you have to wait for God knows how long for the airline to get their shit together. Still, you sighed and nodded, there was no need to complain and go on a tirade about costumer's rights, gross neglect and incompetence on the part of the company, there were people doing that already, so you didn't have to join the misery party, you just had to wait.

You were tired, hungry, sore, and just wanted to rest, let this day be over. You just got back home — well, "home" — for summer break.

Coming back to Texas on any circumstance was a fucking chore, and it didn't help you felt obligated to, either. You were just fine out of state, as fine as you can be while pursuing a degree you didn't want, putting effort and energy on a thing your heart wasn't set on, but at least you were some place else , some place other than Austin, where you could let yourself be a little more. You were planning on going on a trip to somewhere nice, you had been saving a bit of money from your internship and side gigs with the intent of treating yourself — for once —, but your father had other plans.

He got in touch with you a few months ago, going on a rant about how you don't call or get in touch at all anymore, how you've been growing distant ever since you moved out to study, forgetting that you had a father that did everything for you, gave everything to you, that it was an ungrateful look, and how it didn't suit you.

It was his own special way of saying he missed you, and wanted you to visit.

Easy to say, you thought it was best to smooth out the situation and appease him by promising to come back on summer break, basically ruining your own plans because daddy sent you a strong worded text.

What a joke, you don't want to be there.

Another sigh leaves you, this one slightly more exasperated than the last. You hate that weather, you can feel that awful hot, humid air even when surrounded by the airport's heavy-duty air conditioning, the uncovered skin of your arms feels chilly, but it's like an uncomfortable, stuffy bubble of hot air hugs you without your permission, the phantom feeling of it makes you feel like a kid again, and you don't like it.

Some more minutes pass by, you sit down on a chair with a cold backrest after having filled a form at the airline's desk and leave it at that, swallowing back your annoyance and hoping for the best, and the best case scenario was just that your bag was misplaced in another flight, and would be hopefully arriving soon, worst case scenario, they lost the damn thing, and then — just then — it would be time to get openly upset.

But you hope it won't come to that.

"Hey." a gravely voice calls loud and clear beside you, "I thought I recognized ya."

You turn to look, and have to make a physical effort not to groan and keep yourself from making a face. God fucking damn it, it's Joel fucking Miller. He looks just like you remember him from, you don't know, a couple of years ago, from the last time you dropped by on vacation, the same rugged appearance, rough around the edges, with that same annoying, rustic charm, a bit different, though.

His hair was a bit longer, the few gray hairs you remember had grown into proper gray locks, sprinkling his head here and there, same with the beard, fuller, grayer, but somehow softer looking. But that was it for the differences, he still had the same direct and piercing eyes, like he had an aim that never missed its target, and, much to your chagrin, that same infuriating grin that you never quite understood what it meant, despite him always having it on his lips every time you were around.

"Hi." you say, getting up from your seat just out of politeness, you weren't on a hug or even a handshake basis, so you just stood there, awkwardly, stuffing your hands in your pockets like you had no idea what to do with them, "What are you doing here?"

"Nice to see you, too, doll." he huffed a little chuckle, and had it been any other person, you would have blushed a few shades redder than his flannel shirt and apologized for your lack of respect, but it was just Joel, he seemed to enjoy being aggravating like that with you, "It's been a while hasn't it? What? Couple o' years?"

Fair enough, you muster a small diplomatic smile and nod, he's right, it had been a hot minute, but if it were up to you, it would have been even longer. Joel wore a pair of jeans and a flannel that you swear you've seen him wear before, it rings so familiar in your head, like the world's most irritating alarm clock, he's a physical, walking reminder that you're back in Texas, because he's always around you whenever you're there, courtesy of your father.

The two of them are friends, and have been for the longest time, ever since you were a tween, not that you can understand why, exactly, and for once it wasn't Joel's fault, it was your father's. It just didn't make sense that your father had friends, let alone in someone like Joel, you couldn't understand for the life of you what they had in common, and how the fuck did they meet and bond. Maybe you just didn't think of your father as someone pleasant enough to befriend or keep company, in fact, you sure don't, that's why you've been avoiding coming back for as long as you did.

But he's older, so is your dad, and maybe that's why the two of them clicked, and started doing whatever they do when they're together, you're sure they must have gone out to a bar and done things old men do.

"Yeah, it really has, huh?" you say back, looking to the side, as if it was embarrassing to even make eye contact for longer than a few seconds, "It's good to see you, though, Mr. Miller."

"Mm, don't you start with the mister thing." he raised an eyebrow, still looking at you, it made your neck burn, you weren't sure why, maybe just out of awkwardness, you never really knew how to act around him, especially not alone, and he always had such an intense stare, "Makes me sound old."

"Okay then, Mr. Miller." you can't help a little, shy grin, the kind that doesn't last for long.

He looked a bit amused, if anything, not in the same way he had back when you were in high school, it wasn't so much as the cockiness that seemed to radiate off him, he just seemed genuinely impressed with you, like he figured your insistence on being respectful to your elders was your own little way of standing up for yourself, and he didn't seem to want to fight that.

"As for your question," he continues, ignoring your teasing, "I spoke to your old man earlier, he said you'd be arriving today, but that something came up at his work, and he wouldn't be able to come and pick you up, so I offered myself to fetch ya, seemed rude to let you get a taxi or something after coming home after so long, figured I'd come to give ya a proper Texan welcome."

Oh.

He must have noticed your change in expression, your polite smile faltered to give place to a confused, if not hurt, grimace, his face mimicked yours in an involuntary display of empathy, you see his strong brows knitting together like he's trying to read you and figure out what was wrong, and how to fix it.

"Oh, I..." you hesitate, you're thinking lots of things, all of a sudden, but you've always struggled to put your feelings and thoughts into words, "Sorry, I... I'm just a bit surprised. He didn't tell me anything about being held back."

You feel stupid, hadn't Joel come up to the airport and found you, you'd have been waiting for your father to show up until you realized he wouldn't come. You pick up your phone from your back pocket to check if maybe you missed a text or a phone call, but no, there was nothing, the last thing you heard from your dad was him reacting to your text telling him your flight was taking off, and at what time it was supposed to arrive, with a thumbs up.

Nothing more.

You just sigh, yet again, you had an inkling feeling this vacation wasn't going to go smoothly, but this was just the cherry on top. Joel is quiet, letting you have a moment of peace to process, but he's staring, again, he doesn't even try to hide it, his eyes, a nice shade of brown, not unlike caramel, are softer than the rough exterior he keeps up, he seems sympathetic.

"It must've slipped his mind," Joel says with a shrug of his shoulder, not dismissive, just trying to soften the situation, make you feel less bad about it, not that you really cared at that point, this was just another instance of him not showing up in twenty-something years, "You know how he can be sometimes, hardworking fella, just focused on his job and doesn't think of anything else."

He's not wrong, but you'd still think a simple text wouldn't have hurt to send. You want to be angry, at the very least a bit miffed, but you can't muster that, instead, it's just resignation and frustration that makes you feel heavy and tired, it's hard to be mad, for some reason. You never had much practice.

"Thanks, I appreciate it." you force yourself to say, even if it sounds halfhearted and a little defeated.

"You don't sound very thrilled." he snorts a little, it sounds playful, he's not being rude, just lightheartedly ribbing you.

"Sorry, I just, uhm..." you swallow and bite down a sigh, you know exactly what's going on, he doesn't need to know, "It's fine."

You weren't about to get emotional over being slighted by your own dad in front of Joel, even if you're pretty sure he was fully aware of the dynamic between the two of you.

"Well, I'm here." the man declared, his voice always had this very firm tone of finality, you figure it's probably impossible to argue with Joel, "And I'm gonna get you home all the same, ya can talk to him then. Ready to go? Didn't bring any bags?"

It takes you an embarrassing long second to figure out what he's doing, hands on his hips, looking at and around your figure for any luggage, when he doesn't see it, he quirks a brow.

"Oh, no, I did, it's just..." you start, and you can see very clearly how he takes a long, deep breath, letting his arms go slack on his sides, and you hate when he does that, because he always does it when you let it show that something is wrong, but this time you didn't even get to explain, he must know you quite well at this point, or you just do this a lot, "There was a problem with the luggage transport, it's all been delayed, so I'm waiting on that."

His posture shifts while you speak, Joel crosses his arms in front of his chest, making him look like a solid brick wall, a strong and unyielding presence in front of you, his muscles flex and push against the fabric of the sleeves, and you don't understand why, but your neck starts burning again.

"Shit, you gotta be kiddin' me." his jaw tightens and he closes his eyes, a hand moves up to rub his temple, the wrinkles that formed on his forehead when he grimaced almost seemed to highlight the greying of his hair, he's got a very rugged look to him, but it fits, you can't say it's a bad look, "Well, alright. Have you spoken to anyone 'bout this?"

"Yeah, I filled a form at the desk just a moment ago, they told me to wait." you explain.

"'Kay, but what did they say 'bout compensation? Did they offer you anything? They owe you that, y'know that, right?" Joel goes on, almost talking over you, the man seems to be taking this issue personally, too.

"Yeah, I know that."

His brows shoot up when you don't follow that with anything else, and suddenly, all his indignation seems to turn to you, "You didn't say a thing, did ya?"

You stand there, guilty as charged, pursing your lips in a thin line, because you have nothing to say in your defense, you did mention something about compensation to the guy working at the desk, but he brushed you off with some bullshit about company policy and technicalities, and you just took it like a loser, so you guess that doesn't count.

"Fuckin' Christ, alright." Joel groans, his hand flies from his temple to his forehead, where he rubs the wrinkles in frustration, it makes you feel awful, it's always like this, especially with him, he never really tried to hide that he thinks you don't have a backbone, "I'm gonna go take care o' this. Don't you go anywhere."

"What— no, Joel, wait! " you reach out for his arm, your palm touches hard, solid muscle under the flannel sleeve, and your skin feels like it's being singed even with the protection of the fabric, "Don't make it a big deal, please, they say it must be arriving soon, it's fine—"

"Hey." he interrupts your plea with his own gruff voice, but not unkindly, in fact, you're a little shocked to see how his face is so relaxed, not a trace of anger or annoyance in his features, only calmness, "I got this."

The hand on his sleeve goes slack, but your heart starts beating like crazy once he resumes his march to the airline desk you had pointed to earlier, you trail behind him like a desperate, lost puppy, your nerves firing as you try to figure out a way to avoid a conflict or any amount of confrontation, especially on your behalf, there was no need to make a fuss over you.

It's so easy to feel small next to Joel Miller, he's a whole head, and then some, taller than you, not only is he broad, his gait and demeanor are those of a man who can take whatever the world throws at him and still be standing at the end of the day, it's kind of surprising the attendant didn't burst out laughing when you just stood next to him like an anxious shortstack, while the man comfortably leaned over the counter and spoke in his raspy voice.

He had some things to say about the matter, the two men seem to engage in some back and forth you were barely listening to, Joel would speak in his booming voice and point vaguely at you, his tone was always so resolute and determined, his words were never minced, and he always knew what to say, in a usual day, you'd judge him for being too confrontational, even abrasive, but maybe it was the combination of having him standing up for you without a moment's hesitation and the way his biceps bulged whenever he made an angry gesture or placed his hands on the desk and leaned in, that made that hot bubble of air around you feel even hotter.

"Sir, the last flight just arrived, it's likely that your luggage is on the way, you're free to check—" the man behind the desk says, and you loudly breathe out in relief.

"See, Joel, it's here, let's just grab it and go." you blurt out like your life depends on it, touching his arm again, a physical plea, trying to convince him, you can't tell if it's just your mind playing tricks on you, but the touch actually makes him pause.

"This ain't done." Joel points a finger at the workers, but his body is already turning in your direction, even if his gaze doesn't immediately follow, "But it can wait. Come on, doll, let's see if we can get ya out of this place."

It's embarrassing, it really is, it makes your heart jump to your throat, you feel the burn from earlier crawl all the way to your ears, you want to sink through the ground and disappear. There was no need for this, it was ridiculous and overkill, and it was happening all for your sake.

You don't take another good luck at him until he seats himself behind the wheel of his truck, after finally loading your long awaited suitcase in the back. You're sulking on the passenger's seat, head resting on your palm, elbow on the door, staring out the window, just waiting for him to start the damn thing and drop you off, you're just so, so done with this whole airport saga, it was complete shit, from beginning to end.

While he drives, Joel looks over at you, once, twice, maybe thrice, each time just a beat longer than the last, from your peripheral vision, you catch his jaw tightening up a bit, he seems to be contemplating something, the man knows you're moody, and it isn't like you're hiding your displeased pout, but he also knows that, if he doesn't say anything, you won't either.

"It will get sorted out." he tells you, after a moment of consideration. The man leans back comfortably as a long breath leaves him, not unlike the stress sighs you're always letting out as well, he keeps just one hand low on the wheel, and he's tapping a finger to the rhythm of the music, you have to wonder how much of that he can actually hear.

"It's fine." you say, it's your mantra. It's a half lie, "Those things happen."

"Those things aren't supposed to happen, doll." he makes a point of stressing his words, a low and firm sound coming from deep inside his chest, you see his profile from the side, and you can see him pressing his lips together, the man is probably annoyed at the way you're trying to blow it all off, he doesn't like to see people walk all over you, and he doesn't like that you let them, "There's a reason why there are policies and laws and shit like that, for this exact reason."

The way you just raise your palms in the air in a clear sign of resignation tells him that's a discussion you really don't want to have, you almost expect him to push you further, like he's always done, to probe and poke at you, and lecture you on the importance of standing up for yourself like you are a child, but by then Joel already knows he's preaching to a deaf choir, so he gives it a rest.

"I'm just sayin'..." he trails off, clearing his throat.

Your gaze focus on the scenery passing you by, trees and buildings going by so fast it almost looks like they're flying, the man next to you was always a fast driver, you remember that much from a few other times he took it upon himself to be your chauffeur throughout your life, usually when your father couldn't find the time or patience to do so.

"Thanks, anyway, I mean, for... yeah, thanks." you decide to say, still not looking at him.

You can hear him grin, that's how infuriating it is, "Don't mention it."

You just scoff, a hint of a smile making the corner of your mouth twitch upwards, that was so characteristic of him, so Joel Miller, and so stupid, "Don't act like you did nothing. That was..." you roll your eyes, but you don't notice you're shaking your head, he does, though, and that only serves to amuse him even further, "Something else, man. Thanks for... making that guy shit his pants, I guess."

You snort at your own little joke, he doesn't follow, but doesn't seem displeased, either.

The landscape is so familiar, and his presence is so familiar too, the drive is long and quiet, the kind that gives you space to breathe, but never enough to let your thoughts take a more unpleasant turn.

You try not to think about the way Joel always takes care of you, in his own little way.

"How is dad?" the question falls from your mouth.

Joel turns his head to you with a certain look in his eyes, it's quite meaningful, actually, a whole conversation happens with just the two of you making eye contact, it's silent and intense, you almost feel compelled to avert your eyes and stare at the road in front of you.

He looks like he's holding back a comment.

"Same as usual. Busy, focused." his voice is dry, no emotion to it, it's hard to tell whether he's pleased by this or not, "But we keep in touch."

It's odd that Joel seems to know more about your father's well-being than you do, but he has the decency to not say anything else about the matter, if he didn't already know from his friendship with your dad, your question made it very clear that you two don't talk much, if at all, which made this whole thing even more stupid, because you still went out of your way, postponing and cancelling plans, to accommodate a father that only seemed to get in touch with you to make you feel bad about being a "bad daughter".

"Sarah is excited to see you again," Joel added, trying to change the topic, or let you know that at least one person was actually happy with the prospect of seeing you, "When I told her I was coming to pick you up, she got real hyped about it."

That brings a smile to your face.

Sarah, Joel's daughter, was just a few months older than you, that was something else your dad and Joel had in common, besides being divorced, grumpy men in their fifties, now that you think about it. Growing up, the Millers lived close to your house, close enough for Sarah to become your playmate, you'd drop by with your father to play with her, while the adults did their own thing, and vice versa.

The memory of their house is very vivid, even after not having thought about it for the longest time, you still remember the nice hardwood floors, the narrow staircase, and how on every wall — especially in Sarah's room — there were plenty of pictures of her and her dad, on her soccer practices, after championships, or just pictures they took together for the sake of it, always very happy photos, very lively. Your room never had pictures like that.

Sarah was confident, lively and funny, pretty much everything you weren't, and still aren't, she was always more extroverted than you, carrying your whole friendship almost entirely by herself, you just tagged along, ever the dedicated follower, never the leader, it never bothered her, but it bothered you.

You were never quite able to pinpoint what exactly you felt whenever you looked at the pictures on her walls, or witnessed her and Joel interacting in a lighthearted, playful manner, or even just watched her be, but now, as an adult, you can.

It was bitterness.

You were always a very bitter child, the way she could just smile, joke, talk back at Joel, make fun of him, the way he never failed to be warm, receptive, affectionate, a perfect example of a single father raising a lovely kid on his own, the juxtaposition with your home life, which was, well, less than that, was too much sometimes, the unfairness of it all, the stark, blinding contrast that always made you feel inadequate.

Inadequate, bitter, envious .

Eventually you just stopped showing up to hang out, and you two drifted apart quietly, not unlike you and your father.

You discreetly turn your eyes to the man beside you, watching him silently drive, so relaxed, so confident, his posture said it all. Joel rested a hand on top of the wheel, and his other hand on the seat beside him, not even realizing he's drumming his fingers along the tune, not even knowing his hand was right next to your leg, if he did, would he move it, or just let it stay?

His hands looked very large and firm, his fingers were thick and strong, the back of his hand had some prominent veins that moved with every subtle motion of his arm, and you found yourself wondering about the rest of his body. You're no longer a little girl, but still, there are certain things that are better left unthought about.

"How are things goin' for ya, by the way?" he asks, voice suddenly softer, "In college, and all."

"It's fine."

There he goes again, that same long, deep breath he took at the airport, that same long, deep breath he took every time he clocked you shrugging things off, trying to put no importance into them, the look he gives you along with is loud as words, he knows you too well for you to pull that card on him.

"Don't bullshit me." he deadpans.

You're about to fire back a comment about how it's not a bullshitty thing, college really was fine, you were doing well, passing all your classes, and the courses themselves were fine, nothing to complain about, not even your colleagues or professors, you have nothing bad to say about them, or at least, that's what you like to believe, the same way you like to believe you're doing great on your own, and you like to pretend there's nothing you need or want for.

"I'm not!" you protest, he doesn't buy it, you can tell by his doubtful smirk, "I'm really not, okay? Everything is going well, my classes are good, and so are my grades, the city is pretty nice, and... and... I guess, people are fine too?"

"So what's wrong, then?"

It takes a moment for you to reply.

"I don't really want to be a lawyer, okay?" your voice is low, even shy, you can feel your face getting warmer, it's such a relief to finally tell someone this, and, if not a relief, it feels good to not have it stuck in the back of your head all the time, "I never really did. I'm just... kind of going along with it, dad wants it, and at the end of the day, I don't really mind it."

Joel considers your words carefully.

"You do know," he starts, "That to be a lawyer you'll actually have to stand up to people, for once?"

There it was, the Joel Miller you knew and didn't really like, always prodding, always trying to provoke you, always trying to rile you up, always trying to force you out of your comfort zone, to get a reaction, or at least get you to feel something.

"Oh, fuck off."

You're the one to roll your eyes, you're the one to let out an exaggerated groan, because, sure, that's how things would go with him, every time you decided to let him in and let him have a little look into your world, the world inside your head, the real, raw feelings that lay beneath the surface, and you should know that better than anyone, it's just in his nature, it's not even mean spirited, he's just an asshole.

"Nah, I'm being completely fuckin' serious right now," he says, a hint of a chuckle on his voice, but he really wasn't laughing, and, much like a father who knows exactly what he's talking about, he explains himself, "You'd be swallowed whole in a courtroom, doll, and you know that too."

He has a point, unfortunately.

"I guess. That's the kind of person I am, I suppose."

Joel shakes his head.

"Don't be stupid."

You raise a hand to him, to tell him not to patronize you.

He seems like he wants to keep going, to keep yapping about how your spine has the consistency of wet spaghetti, about how you should grow a pair already and stop acting so fucking scared all the time, that you're always hiding, you're always keeping your mouth shut, that it's not the way, but he bites his tongue and decides against it, opting for a less aggravating follow up, "What would ya like to do, then? If not law."

"I don't know. I like to paint. But I know I'm not good enough."

"Says who? Yourself?" he sounds sarcastic, and that gets you even more flustered and frustrated.

"Yes, I do, because it's true," you explain, you've told this to many other people, so many times, and none of them understood, Joel isn't going to be an exception, "And it doesn't pay really well as a career, like, at all."

"Well, now you just sound like your father."

Your cheeks flush, you can feel your entire face burning now, he has no idea how much of a dickhead he's being. You're starting to regret having told him anything about it.

"Fuck off."

You say it again, in a quiet, unintimidating way. He laughs.

"If you talked to people like you're talkin' to me right now, you'd be an okay lawyer, you know that, right?" his smile is cocky, it's so stupid, but so characteristic of him, to get under your skin like this, he was the only one that could, "Not good, but okay."

"Whatever, Joel. Shut up."

It's hard not to look at the way his neck and shoulders tense when he laughs, you catch yourself looking more than you should, he has the nerve to let his hand move towards you and he pats the top of your knee, he pats your leg twice, slowly and softly.

You surprise yourself with how your stomach seems to shrink and turn at his touch.

His fingers are firm, and you feel the strength on them, you try to ignore the tingly feeling that runs up and down your leg, like some weird, unexplainable electrical charge, and how it seems to only spread from his hand. You pretend the contact isn't affecting you, it's an easy thing to do.

He lets his hand linger there, resting on your knee for a while, and you don't fucking move a muscle, and, for once, it's a deliberate choice, you're not letting him keep his hand there, you want him to keep it there, too afraid that if you move, say something, or even breathe weird, he might just take it away from you, and you'd never forgive yourself for that.

But he interprets your stillness, and your silence — and the fact you stopped breathing for a hot second, as discomfort, and Joel promptly moves his hand from your leg, placing it back on the steering wheel, like he should, he knew you enough to know you wouldn't speak up on your discomfort, but didn't know you well enough now to know why exactly you were letting him touch you like that in the first place, but the answer is very simple:

You liked it .

And it disappoints you that he withdrew it, even though that was probably for the best.

"If you ask me," the man cleared his throat, taking it upon himself to clear the air, you couldn't say he wasn't considerate when he wanted to, "Which I know ya didn't, but that ain't gonna stop me, ya should talk to your dad about this."

You give a halfhearted laugh, not really looking at him.

"What's so funny?" Joel asks.

"It won't do anyone no good, Joel," you declare, your resigned, dejected tone seems to upset him, or maybe it's the way you sound so comfortable with that tone that upsets him, "I'm almost in my senior year, anyway, a lot of money was invested in this, and besides, he wouldn't get it."

You have nothing more to say about the topic.

Joel seems like he has plenty to say, though, like he always did, "I don't think so. In my own experience, ain't a man in this world that loves a girl more than her own father, doll."

It was meant to sound like some profound advice, like Joel always did, but to you, it felt like a blow straight to your stomach.

His experience was nothing like yours, he was nothing like your dad, far from it.

But that was a good thing.

Joel parks in front of your childhood home not much later, it's been at most two, maybe three years since you were here the last time, the sight of that house shouldn't be making you feel so uncomfortable and anxious, but it did.

He gets off the car first, while you stay stuck in your uncomfortable stupor, you only come back to reality when Joel opens your door for you, a nice, chivalrous smile — as chivalrous Joel Miller can be — on his lips, making way for you.

"Welcome home, doll."

It's so hard not to blush when he says stuff like this.

Joel carries your bags inside, even though you tell him that you can take care of them yourself. He tells you not to worry. You follow him quietly, the only sounds filling the hallway are his heavy footsteps, the clanking of keys against the wooden door, and the loud tick-tocking of the old grandfather clock, you used to be kind of scared of that clock as a little girl, it made such an intimidating, imposing noise.

The house was empty, that's what you first assumed, at least, judging by how dark and neat everything was, smelling strongly of furniture polish, not a thing out of place, it felt like it was just you and Joel, in your childhood home, you tried not to let your mind wander to what would happen if it were really just you and him.

He carried your bags so easily, he must be so strong. You know he works in construction, that's why his hands look so rough, and probably feel rough, too, you didn't get to feel it on your leg thanks to the fabric of your jeans, but you're sure of it, you can almost imagine the coarseness on your skin, the warmth, he could pick you up so easily if he wanted to—

Heavy, hurried footsteps making their way down from the second floor startle you out of your thoughts, you know those steps far too well, you grew up trying to listen for them whenever the house went too silent, or when you were laying in your bed, staring at the plaster-white ceiling of your room, trying to gauge if it was safe to get out yet, or if he was in a bad mood and you should wait.

Those are your father's footsteps.

He comes down the steps in a frenzy, and his feet almost don't respond to his brain's command to stop when he finally spots you and Joel, he seemed distracted by something on his phone.

"Oh, shit— I didn't hear you enter." he says with a slightly awkward laugh, but still unabashed, it's not directed to you, however, his attention is on his friend, "Can you believe they're not going to pay me for the overtime I had to do at the office? That's ridiculous, isn't it?"

He wasn't paying attention to you, and, for a reason you don't understand, you can't help but feel relieved and happy, not like he'd actually have any energy to spare for his daughter.

Joel shook his head, a sort of smirk on his face, the way they're standing makes them look like the best of friends, and yet, something about how Joel stuffs his hands in his pockets and shifts his body slightly to your direction tells you he's unimpressed, "Hey, now." he points at you with his head, his command is clear, and you didn't think you— or your dad — would live long enough to see someone bossing him, "I brought your princess, didn't I?"

Your dad only now notices you, his face lights up, though not really in a heartwarming way, and not in a manner that you could find even remotely appealing or warm.

It was a look and reaction of a man who just remembered he forgot to pick up his child, which, in a way, he kind of did.

"There's my baby girl," he walks up to you and engulfs you in a bear hug, it's very sudden and awkward, he's squeezing you a little too tight, you never really fit in his hugs, but you hug him back nonetheless, "How was the trip?"

"It was fine." you say.

It rolls off your tongue so easily, sounds almost so beautifully rehearsed, automatic, like an answering machine, because it really is.

Joel gives you a weird look, you're not looking at him, but you can feel it burning on your nape, like he can't seem to figure out why the fuck you'd say that, when it would take at most thirty seconds to tell your father, with enough detail, what a mess it was. Your dad was a lawyer, if someone would know how to deal with an incompetent airline who almost lost your luggage, made you wait for a long time, inconvenienced you, and wouldn't budge about compensation, that someone was your dad, why wouldn't you tell him about it? Why would you opt for the almost political, statesmanlike "fine", when it's so clear by how you said it that it wasn't, in fact, "fine"?

Your dad chuckles, letting go of you, his arms move away from your shoulders and back, "I'm glad to hear that."

He says, you smile, Joel coughs.

Then it's complete silence for a second or two. No one really knows what to say, and you almost think it's your fault for answering noncommittally, but your father speaks up, before Joel does.

"It's so good to have you back, baby girl, this house has been so empty." your father says, a weird, forced chuckle at the end, Joel is starting to see where you got your awkwardness from, "I just got home from the law firm, but it was just to grab some papers, I should be heading back, but, uhm, let's have dinner later, yeah?" he was making a move for the front door, the one you closed behind you not even a few minutes ago, his eyes going back to his phone, "Joel, you and Sarah should join us, I'm sure she—"

"Now, hang on a minute," Joel cuts in, he's quick, that man never misses a beat, "You gotta go back right now? What, can't ya stay just a few more minutes? Catch up with your girl, and whatnot?"

It was very obvious — to you — what he's trying to do, Joel Miller is tactful enough to not cut a leg off just because it's bruised, but he's still a man who likes to brute force some things, and right now, he is trying to brute force you an opportunity, because Joel Miller seems to enjoy taking things upon himself that he had no business interfering in.

Your father stops in his tracks, hand frozen on the doorknob, mid-turn, he looks confused, if anything, speechless, like he couldn't think of a single possible thing to say right now, looking between his friend and you, uninterested, unfazed.

"How's... How's college?" he eventually asks, it sounds impersonal, but Joel sighs like he just won a jackpot.

He did it, he gave you a very clear opportunity, and Joel was right there beside you to support you, you could say — even if briefly, superficially — what you were thinking, what you were feeling, just to get a word out, and then maybe talk through it over dinner, with some good father-daughter quality time, a desperately needed heart-to-heart, that's what he hoped for, that was his intention behind doing that, it had to be.

"It's fine." you say, a short answer, nothing too detailed, and a complete lie.

A look of exasperation and confusion crosses Joel's eyes.

Your father, though, smiles, that same diplomatic, polite smile you always give people, and he nods, "I'm glad to hear, dear."

You three stand still where you are, you because it's routine, your father because he's confused and awkward, and Joel because he's too fucking astonished to move a fucking muscle.

"Well, we can talk more about it when I get back." your dad declared, the door lock clicked and he was about to leave, "Dinner tonight, guys."

Your dad is out the door not long after that, it closes with a slam behind him, leaving you and Joel in a cold, stale-smelling home.

For a long time, nothing is said between the two of you.

"Alright." you mutter, almost as if to yourself, taking your bag in your hand, the wheels clattering against the floor, and Joel moves behind you, following you upstairs to your room.

"Are you— You can't be serious right now," he says, trying to mask his complete bewilderment, and doing a shit job at it, " 'It's fine' ?!"

He tries to say it like you would say, a high, mocking, shaky voice, his arms open in a defeated, almost hopeless, manner.

"Joel, not now," you tell him, walking down the long hallway, and not looking back at him, "I'll be sleeping."

"What— no."

You try closing the door to your room, but it slams loudly on Joel's open palm with a lot of force, you're pretty sure you didn't close it that hard, that was his doing, you still can't help, though, to feel more worried about your door than about his hand. He pushed it wide open again, towering on your door frame, but didn't cross the threshold, you felt weirdly trapped, your bag and your body feel heavy, you set the luggage down.

Joel's expression is unlike any other you've ever seen, and the look in his eyes is so intense, full of indignation, your knees wobble a bit under his scrutiny, you hate yourself for that, you don't want him to notice that, he shouldn't be seeing you so affected.

"Y'know, I used to think you were just a very weird kid," he starts, Joel sounds legitimately, personally offended, his outrage is palpable, it's like he can't barely keep it in, but it's trying to so very hard, "Just— painfully shy, didn't know how to talk to no one, didn't really talk at all, went along with everything, and everything was fine, 'cause that's what you always said, all the fuckin' time, and I really thought it was, for the longest time."

"Joel—"

"No." his tone leaves no room for discussion, his expression hard, but when you immediately shut up, it almost seems to upset him more, "I really thought you'd grow out of the pushover phase, I even thought I could help it by urging you a little—"

"I'm not a pushover!" you frown, trying to sound strong and firm, but it was clear the words had no bite to them.

"Oh, bull-fucking-shit, doll, you're the biggest pushover I've ever met," he scoffs at you, still leaning against the frame of your bedroom door, "As a kid, you'd go along with whatever Sarah wanted to do, as a teen, I had to witness you going out with the most stupid looking boys I've ever had the displeasure of setting my eyes on, now you're a grown-ass pushover!"

"Why are you mad at me?" you ask, you're so fucking confused, you feel attacked, really, literally cornered by the man. On any other day, you'd be bawling your eyes out, but Jesus fucking Christ, you were so done with today, you have been bottling up so much shit you could feel your bile taint your mouth with its bitter taste, you were furious.

"I'm not mad at you, doll, I'm mad for you."

After he says that, there's a pause, he didn't mean to get into a yelling match with you, and he looked disheartened. Joel rubbed one of his big palms over his face, like he's suddenly feeling so much more tired than before.

He was such a caring man, and it makes your chest feel warm, even though his concern for you wasn't your idea of a nice conversation.

"I'm mad for you, because this sucks, girl," he says, sounding tired, he takes a deep breath, and then his voice gets more serious, lower, calmer, and you know he's getting his emotions in check, "Your dad is a good friend, though I'm starting to question how good of a father he is, if even he pushes you 'round like this, but c'mon, doll, you ain't a little girl anymore."

"Oh, shut up." you scoff, this time your tone has more venom behind it, your voice gets higher, but still doesn't come out as a scream, and your body is shaking from rage, "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, don't I?" he scoffs back, but on his lips a smirk appears, fuck, he's doing it again, he's playing with you, just like he always did to urge you, to get on your nerves, to see how far he could push you until you blow up, but the only reason you never blew up was because no one would be there to pick up the pieces.

"Let us see if I don't, then," Joel continues, just his head trespasses the threshold of your room, like the rest of his body is being held back by some invisible force, he wants to provoke you, but at the same time seems to have no intention of violating your space, it was a weird mix of things, you never understood him, "You're a fine, grown woman, studying something ya don't wanna study, going places ya don't wanna go, talking to people ya don't wanna talk to, hell, doll, what else is being shoved down your throat, and you just take it without a peep? Do the guys you go out with also trample all over you?"

"Just shut up." you repeat yourself, and he smirks wider, because it's working, he can see it in how tensed your posture became, he could feel it, and the worst part is that it was true, every word of it.

"What is it that you want, huh? I ain't ever heard that combination of words come out o' your mouth, ‘I want’ , even as a kid, I have no fuckin' idea of what you really want, of what you'd ask of someone, and it's starting to look like you don't either."

"Oh, my God— I want you to shut the fuck up, Joel, and close the goddamn door! How 'bout that?!" you explode, yelling, it wasn't even a particularly high or loud voice, but your outburst was unexpected, you couldn't hold back, your anger had nowhere else to go but forward, you didn't mean to yell, but you did.

It came out of your chest with so much force you could feel your face going red from embarrassment.

He blinked.

Once, twice.

You'd have thought you broke him, the look of surprise in his face, and the silence that fell upon the two of you was unnerving, but at least you made him stop talking, at least the constant, buzzing noise in the back of your mind is no longer there, it's blissfully quiet.

"Very well." he nods decidedly, and closes the door.

Joel closes the door behind him, finally stepping into your room, the heavy lock clicks, the air feels thicker, like he's somehow managed to take the whole thing up a notch, and, to be fair, he fucking did.

"That's a good start." it sounds like praise, because it is praise, a low, rumbling sound that reverberates inside your stomach and shoots directly down between your legs.

It's the kind of voice that has no business existing outside of a bedroom, you think, his southern drawl dripping on each of the words like hot, sticky honey, and you could just fucking cry from how arousing it actually was.

He walks in further in slow, careful steps, like you're some kind of wild animal, Joel's body moves towards you, eyes fixed, never breaking the staring contest you two started.

Joel Miller's presence was already overwhelming on itself, his physical height, his build, the way he looked like he could easily snap you in half, but you've seen this man care for his daughter more times than you can remember, you've seen him go out of his way for people who couldn't stand him, his family, and most importantly, you, the kid he babysat whenever your dad just had to stay late somewhere.

He wasn't scary, quite the opposite, he was magnetic, upsettingly so.

"So, doll," Joel continues, "How's it going to be?"

His eyes are intense, his presence is so, so big, you're feeling smaller by the minute, and yet he still didn't even get that close, still didn't try to touch you, he was waiting for an answer.

"What?"

"'Cause I ain't goin' to ask again, I don't like to repeat myself," he said, the tone was softer than what the words sounded like, almost reassuring, it was so different to what you're used to, his face gets closer, you could see his beard better now, and his eyes were unbearably dark, "I ain't doin' a damn thing, unless you tell me what ya want."

What a low blow, but that's how Joel Miller was, the man never played fair.

"I can't." you tell him, voice soft and weak, but there was an undertone of rage to it, the fact that you knew exactly what you wanted to say and how, and he knew that, too, it was maddening.

He has the gall to roll his eyes and click his tongue at you, like he's annoyed at having to repeat himself for a third time, you can't believe it, and his hands come to rest on his hips, his body open, so you can clearly see, read him like a fucking open book.

"I ain't going nowhere, I ain't leaving this room, unless you say something," Joel starts again, a very deep frown between his brows, you'd even dare say that he's frustrated, and then it comes again, his voice, so low, it was nothing more than a rumble, and yet the hairs of your arm and neck are raised, you shudder, "Now, how is it gonna be, sweetheart? I'm all ears."

It was a clear invitation, he wasn't asking you again, the question had an ultimatum, and it wasn't hard to tell that this is Joel's idea of giving you the push you need to break free.

A breath you didn't realize you were holding came out shakily, a lot of pent-up emotions coming up to the surface, but Joel waited, you were the one in charge, you were the one setting the pace here.

And if there was something you knew about him, it was just how stubborn he could be, growing up with that fucking asshole pushing your damn buttons all the time taught you that much, but the intent behind his attitude was never really clear— until now. He was an asshole, but he was an asshole of his word, once you took control of the wheel, there would be no going back, but you do have a choice — which was his point all along —, you can either tell him to leave, or tell him what you really want, but you have to say it like you mean it.

"I don't want you to leave." you say, your voice is low, but that's just because you don't trust what kinds of sound could escape from your mouth if you tried to talk louder.

"Okay." Joel nods at you, his smirk is a full smile now, a proud grin on his lips, but that wasn't good enough for him, not the answer he wanted to hear, and he tells you so, "You're doing good, doll, but let's be more positive, aight? I wanna hear you say what you want ."

Fuck, you're trembling, he's close, so close to you, your sense of smell is so heightened, you think, because the scent of his cologne is the only thing you can smell in that small room of yours, the deep breath you take is not even voluntary, your body is reacting on its on, the tingling, fluttering feeling you felt through your body sets and pools in your lower tummy, it's an all too familiar sensation, the arousal is undeniable.

You got all wet just with some soft words and his smell, and you know he's noticing it, it was clear, not even in a million years would Joel miss how his proximity is affecting you, his gaze is unbearable.

You'd rather not say it, but there's no other choice, your words have to come out crystal clear, otherwise he's just going to stay there and make you wait for him, that was also part of his little game, so, for fuck's sake, you take the bull by the horns, and you take another step.

"I want you to stay." Your chest heaves with your breathing, but your tone is unmistakable, he wanted to hear your voice, so there you go, saying exactly what's on your mind, your real thoughts, the ones you wouldn't dare saying aloud.

Joel looks impressed.

"Atta girl." there's a new intensity in his gaze, the smugness and pride is still there, but you've seen that kind of look before on other men, that glint of thirst, it's the most dangerous one, "Then I'll stay, darlin'. See? Wasn't it easy?"

" No. " you find it in yourself to huff, your newfound braveness is a surprise even to you, but it's hard to be anxious and self-conscious when he's moving closer to you so decidedly, "Nothing is ever easy with you."

He tilts his head to the side briefly, a small gesture of agreement, his steps are slow, but not as calculated anymore, they're shorter now, his eyes are still locked on yours, but the tension that you felt so keenly in the beginning, that air of challenge was gone, his entire focus was now solely on you.

"Guilty as charged," Joel chuckles, a hand reaching to your cheek, and the moment his thumb makes contact with your skin, you lean into the touch, it feels cold against your burning face, and it's probably the only thing keeping you from melting completely, "But doesn't it feel good, to finally let out the truth?"

His thumb moves along the softness of your cheek, he caresses the apple of it, his eyes darting down to look at your lips, his smile gets even softer, and then he says, "To finally be honest with yourself and say what you want."

His hand slides from your cheek down to the curve of your chin, and then, he cups it with a gentleness that surprised you, but then you remembered, this was no stranger, this was Joel, and the knowledge of knowing this is the same man who has watched you grow up made something hot and sticky build up in the pit of your belly, a desire so powerful that it has your brain go all mushy, your words stuck in the back of your throat, it was a pain to get them out.

" Touch me. "

Joel Miller has no right being that attractive, he shouldn't look this good, he should not have this effect on you, he had no right on having you in such an infuriating and sudden chokehold, he wasn't even trying.

You couldn't find the words to describe exactly what you’re feeling, they were all lost in a muddle of lust, it's an unbearable, mind-numbing kind of horny that had your whole body reacting so quickly to such simple actions, it was a mix of things that were starting to make you feel out of sorts.

It's not just the arousal, nor just the fact that he's here with you, so close to you that you could feel the warmth emanating from his big body, nor even just the fact that, since you're on a roll of being honest and letting loose of your inhibitions, this was your long time crush touching you, hooking his hands below your ass to lift you up as easily as he picked up your luggage from the airport.

The yelp you let out is far from the most graceful noise you ever made, your arms shoot around his neck to steady yourself, but aside from the abrupt rising, you were never at risk of falling, his arms are so solid under your thighs, more solid than the floor that was under your feet just a few seconds ago, you feel. Your core is pressed flush against his abdomen, you can feel his body warmth, and you've never been so glad to be wearing good denim pants, otherwise you would have made a mess on him just by being held.

"No need to be scared." Joel snarks, carrying you somewhere.

"A little word of warning would've been nice, though," you say back, his nose is so close to yours, and it makes your face feel warm, even the tip of his beard tickled the side of your cheek, he smelled so nice, you really are a mess.

"Oh, sorry, princess, next time, I'll do just that, just let me put you where you want first." his drawl is the last drop, his smirk is so self-assured, he knows he's dangling a treat over your head.

Joel sets you down on your room's desk, the man sets his hands firmly on top of your thighs and unceremoniously spreads them wide, making room for his body, and your eyes are just glued to the view, looking down at the show he was putting on of how your bodies seemed to be aligned to fit so perfectly together, your imagination ran wild trying to picture just how obscenely hot it would be to watch yourself get stretched out by his cock from that angle.

You set your own hand on his chest, and you don't know if it's his cologne, or if it's him, but he smells so nice, he has a musky, earthy scent of man that had you dizzy and out of focus.

"Hey, look at me." he commanded you, lifting your chin up with his fingers, "I ain't doin' anything until ya tell me, remember? How's it gonna be, darlin'?"

"Oh, you're unbelievable..." you shake your head, your words come out riding a laugh, he had you just where he wanted, the only thing stopping you was just your clothes, but he still was dead set on making you spell it all out for him.

"C'mon, doll," Joel insists, a smirk pulling the side of his mouth up, his fingers digging deeper into your thighs, you could see the shape of his dick pressing hard against the front of his pants, his other hand moving up, ghosting over your waist and chest, "It's an easy question, ya just gotta say the word, what's the holdup?"

The holdup was your pride, and maybe some remnants of shame you felt, you were never the bold kind, or the kind that openly spoke of her sexual desires and wants, that's the kind of person you never saw yourself as, even as an adult with an active sex life, so when faced with Joel, his hard-set insistence, the challenge in his dark, lust filled eyes and his soft, deep voice presented to you, the request seemed out of character.

Your words are there, but it was so difficult to bring them to light, they're at the tip of your tongue.

"We gotta practice that assertiveness, if you're really going through law school." Joel quips, and he knows exactly what he's doing, it was just the final push of well-meaning annoyance to get you talking, because how could you put up with his teasing and mocking you and not tell him to just shut the fuck up and kiss you already.

"Shut up."

He did shut up.

Joel shut the fuck up, and closed the short distance between your lips and his.

The first brush of lips was a question, barely touching yours, but it was enough to make you let out a pathetic, expectant little sigh. The second one, you met him in the middle, unwilling to let him keep toying with you like that, finding a place for your lips between his.

Joel was kissing you.

You've been waiting for that kiss for years now.

Well, maybe two, max, but that was more than enough for you.

Growing impatient with those sweet pecks, you're the first to part your lips, you brush your tongue over his bottom lip sheepishly, but with an eagerness of a person who has been denied something she wanted for such a long time, he pulls back slightly just to spite you, but Joel is far gone at this point, too. One of his hands shoots up to grab hold of your face with such despair it almost hits you, "Sorry.", he tries to murmur, but it gets lost in your mouths as soon as the apology comes out. Lord, his tongue, though.

Joel tastes like nothing else, a combination of scotch and a very distinct, personal taste that had you salivating for more. Your teeth click, a mess of lips and tongue, his beard scratching you, and it's probably the hottest fucking thing in the whole world to feel. His breath comes out harshly through his nostrils, and he lets out a guttural groan as the hand on your face goes down, exploring your neck and shoulders, keeping you still by your throat, a cheeky thumb pressing down on the hollow that your pulse ran through, just enough to feel it.

He's showing off, that much is clear to you, by the way he's so unabashed about how his tongue is in your mouth and yours is in his, the wet sounds you make echo through the room, the quiet sighs, moans and hums he's drawing out of you, it makes you feel suddenly bashful.

"Oh, don't go shy on me now, doll, c'mon." Joel pulls back, his breath fanning hot on your lips, the thumb at your neck moves down and rubs circles on your collarbones, he's got this smug smirk on his face, you've always wanted to wipe it off.

"Jesus— shut the fuck up, Joel." it comes out so much easier now that you've got a taste of him, it was all too clear to you what you really want.

He smiles, he smiles that smile you know means he's about to be a jackass, and the look on his face was pure sin.

"Keep him out o' this, princess." his low laugh rumbles through his chest, his mouth is so close to yours, he was clearly teasing you, testing your resolve, his grip on your thigh was so hard that it had a delicious sting, it had you all aflame inside and out, the tension between you so palpable, so thick you could cut it with a knife, "Ain't nothing holy 'bout what I wanna do to ya."

The next thing that came out of your mouth was just an unintelligible whimper, the way his lips and beard pressed and rubbed against the soft skin of your throat felt heavenly, it tickled just the slightest, but it wasn't enough to make you pull away. You tipped your head to the side and offered your neck to him, giving him space to do as he pleased, and Joel, like a moth to a flame, moved quickly.

His mouth was so hot, his teeth biting a mark onto the crook of your neck, making you let out a soundless, shuddery breath, a sharp, small gasp followed after a second of realization, that's gonna leave a mark, and you have no idea how to explain that to your father, hiding it just doesn't seem like a reliable option, but then you feel it, Joel's lips curling up in a smile against your flesh, that fucking bastard , he did it on purpose.

With a kiss and a long swipe of his tongue over the bite, he appeases you, the worry and surprise wear off as he licks the salt off your skin, Joel is relentless in his pursuit, he's trying to take everything off of you, your taste, your breath, your moans and sighs, he's set out on devouring you.

"God, ya look so good, darlin'. Look at you." he murmurs into your neck, his voice is strained, the drawl he puts on the pet names so obvious, and so incredibly sexy, it has a direct link to the growing dampness that has taken over the seat of your panties, his eyes move up slowly, the appreciation he's making it very obvious that he sees you as nothing less than a feast.

You could barely take it.

"Fuck." your voice comes out strangled, a newfound boldness fills your mind, the warmth in your body making you brazen. Your hands shot down to the fly of your jeans, "Stop looking at me like that, for fuck's sake—"

The sight of your hands going for your pants had a riveting effect on Joel, he went from teasing and self-satisfied to horny in an instant, and he seemed to have forgotten everything he was doing and that idiotic fucking game he was playing with you, he watched, rapt and eager as you unbuttoned and unzipped a way for him, and he's not very patient, not right now.

Joel doesn't wait for you to try and get the damn thing off your body before he pulls — better yet, yanks you — to him by your nape for another kiss, and presses his other hand on your tummy with clear intent, sliding a tantalizing trail down, until he can stuff his fingers right down your jeans and the seat of your panties.

"Wait—" you gasp, not able to fight off his iron grip on you, but it's not like you want to, "Let me get them off—"

"Ain't no need for that." Joel denies, shaking his head slightly, the hand in the back of your neck keeps you from pulling away from him, the kiss that he plants on your lips is rough, it's bruising in the best of ways, you feel it on your cheeks, but most importantly, you feel his fingertips slide easily past the waistband of your panties, just then he allows you to lean back ever so slightly, probably with the selfish motivation of being able to touch you better — as selfish as that can be.

God , you're a mess, you can feel it as his finger first touches you, sliding down your folds, just how obscenely wet it feels, the shuddering breath you let out when his digit meets your clit is just embarrassing. You have never, ever been so horny in your life.

Joel chuckles, not mockingly, he just thinks your reactions are the most adorable fucking thing, his voice is muffled when he talks into your neck, you can barely feel it as he moves to whisper in your ear, his finger tracing lazy, tight circles over your clit, "You're so fuckin' wet, sweetheart," he groans, your fingers have a vice grip on his arms, "That for me?"

Yes, yes, yes . Fucking yes, that's all because of him, and you got like that even before that motherfucker laid a finger on you, but he didn't need to know that, the last thing Joel Miller needed was that big of an ego boost, or else you were gonna find yourself a real problem to deal with.

"Fuck—" you bite back a sob, but can't hold back how your body jolts as a reaction to his touch, those fucking little circles, the slickness makes his finger glide over your sensitive little nub, he's barely even applying pressure, just taking his time getting acquainted with how you like it, he's mapping your actions and reactions like he hasn’t known you for pretty much forever, his beard and teeth and lips still kissing and biting a hot trail from one side of your neck to the other, you'll be a mess once this is over, and you hope it never ends, "C'mon— Joel— I thought we were getting to the good part?"

He lets out an indignant little snort, the sound he makes as he nips at the hinge of your jaw is something you have no way to describe, he wants a fucking piece of you, he wants it all, the thought sends your heart fluttering, you had no way to know, but this was just the appetizer of the main course.

Joel hums, he hums into the space between your jaw and ear, his finger not leaving the top of your cunt, and it's starting to get really frustrating, you could feel a spark, something that could've become something, if only he put some actual work into it.

"Ya got somewhere to go?" he teases, "So impatient..."

"C'mon, Joel, please ..." your plea clearly has an effect, you can feel the low rumble in his chest, he can't stop himself, even though you could see the glint of something devious in his dark brown eyes, a cheeky finger moving lower, searching, rubbing down your pussy, Joel is taking his sweet, sweet time with it all," Please, I want you insi—"

His thick, rough digit easily pushes past the wet, tight rim of your opening, his fingertip sinks inside, just the barest of it, but it's enough for you to lose it for a second, his touch has a jolt shooting up your whole body, your nails digging into his shoulders, the surprised moan you let out makes your cheeks burn hotter than before, it's so different to be touched by someone else, it feels like he could do whatever he wanted to you, and he'd make you take it.

There's absolutely no way anyone else could touch you like he does.

No man in this world would ever be as good as him, it was that simple, it was a truth you knew well and true.

Joel was a force of nature, you could never understand it, not even if you tried.

Your breath catches in your throat, a sharp gasp follows his finger pressing further in, it's just so fucking good to have something filling you in, filling up that insane emptiness you were feeling just a second before, it slides in so easily, making squelching sounds as your wet cunt opens up around it, taking it all, as much as he can give it to you, sliding in and out, just to test how wet and pliant your cunt is for him.

"Oh, fuck... God, yes, yes , Joel, like that." the praise, the satisfaction that's coming from your words seem to do things to Joel, too. His body moves forward, trying to press closer to yours, his face buries deep into the crook of your neck, the scent of his hair, the scent of his cologne, the sweat he's breaking, his warm breath fanning out and spreading a hot, wet wave on your skin, you hug him for dear fucking life, if the desk under you gives in, you at least know you can hang onto him, your nails latch on the fabric of his red flannel, desperate.

"You're doin' so good, baby," you hear him speak against your throat, he kisses you there, right below your ear, the vibration of his deep voice is something you'll feel in your core, forever, it'll never go away, it'll follow you, it'll stay in your memory and will come back every time you think of him, of the moment you got fingerfucked by him on top of your desk, "So fuckin' good , look at you."

God, how are you going to forget about that? It was going to drive you crazy for days, months, years to come, just thinking about Joel praising you and fingering you at the same time was almost too much. You felt his fingers wrap around a fistful of your hair, his lips on yours again, just as he slides another finger in. Fuck, if he could keep doing that— if you two could keep that up for the rest of your break, Texas would never be so fucking awful anymore, you'd come back again every time, at every opportunity, just for him.

It's just too good, the friction, the growing moans and whines that spill from your mouth are swallowed by him, and they just seem to make him go on, go harder and deeper, a curl of his fingers hits something so right that a full-bodied shudder passes through you on a round trip, a sob wrenched from your throat. He smirks, and keeps hitting the spot over and over, until he has you squirming and bucking your hips up in his direction, grinding, riding his fingers like a desperate girl, so filthy.

"Fuck— please, Joel— god, right there—!" you hiccup, your mouth hangs open as you squeeze your eyes shut, for a moment the only sounds that can be heard are his breathing, the quiet muttered praises he showers you in that you can't quite make out right now, and that wet symphony of your pussy around his thick fingers, your voice seems to clog and get stuck on your throat, your tummy tightens up, like a coil, the pleasure so overwhelming.

One of your hands slams loudly on the wood under you, just holding on to him isn't enough anymore, the firmness of the desk provides you with just enough support to brace for what it felt like imminent impact.

"C'mon, doll," he urges you, he can feel you fluttering and clenching around his fingers, holding on to his knuckles, God, it's one of his favorite feelings now, no pussy ever felt like yours, and he didn't even get to see the damn fucking thing yet, just fingering you under your beat up jeans was more fun and satisfying than most sex he'd had as of recently, "Show me— c'mon, that's it," he speaks lowly, "I want you to cum for me, alright, sweetheart, cum for me."

Your voice breaks free in a mellow shriek, a gasp for air, a loud sigh of relief as it washes over you like a tidal wave.

"fuckJoelyesyesyesYESpleaseitfeelssofuckinggood—"

What comes out of your mouth is just a string of undecipherable, desperate, whiny moans, your whole body jerks forwards, and it almost feels like falling, but he's there right in front of you, strong as ever, more than anyone you've ever met, to hold on to you, kissing soothing patches on the little skin your t-shirt offers him, but he'll take it, he'll take everything he can get, he'll kiss you forever, if he can.

Joel only lets go of you — barely — back on the desk when your whole being relaxes from the sudden tension, you had gone slack in his arms, but that's not new. His hands come back out of the confines of your pants, and the wetness he found inside makes your thighs shiver, a faint silky, translucent trail connects you for a moment, before it's gone as quickly as it came.

God, your legs feel like jelly, you don't think you have it in you to walk, but it can't stop you from trying. What can stop you from trying, however, is the man in front of you.

"Nah, ah, slow down." he reprimands, pulling you back up before the tip of your toes could even touch the floor, though his tone isn't stern, and he has a grin on his face when he simply sticks his fingers, all coated in your arousal, inside your mouth, "Don't go runnin' off on me."

There's no energy left in you, or will, to fight him, he can call you a fucking pushover if he wants to, but you do as he clearly commanded, sucking his digits clean, eating your own release straight from his fingers.

He's pleased, with you, with your blatant display of compliance, of eagerness and how willing you were to be so goddamn dirty in a heartbeat. Joel is pleased with you.

"There's a good girl," Joel mumbles, his dark eyes fixed on yours, he looks like he's not able to take them off you, like if he blinks, he'll miss something really, really good, "Just perfect, darlin’, you’re perfect."

The words sound like a lull, his thumb moves to trace the line of your bottom lip, your eyes flutter close, and the weight of your own exhaustion presses on you. A soft smile curls his lips, it's warm and sincere, you feel like melting in a puddle at the sight, it was hard not to give into it.

"Hey..." he calls out for you, pulling you a bit closer, just so he can brush your nose with his.

You blink, a little lost, you could get so lost in him.

"Fuck, did I knock you out?" he chuckles, lovingly pulling you against him, you rest your chin on his shoulder, and let him do what he wants with your hair, run his clean hand through your locks, he's kissing the shell of your ear again.

"Maybe." Joel can hear the smile on your voice as you say it, you take in a deep breath, almost as if you didn't get enough air throughout all this, "This was... insane."

"Is that a compliment?" his laugh, so clear, and his breath tickling the side of your neck has a warmth spread on your chest.

"Absolutely." you nod, your arms come to lock around his frame, almost like a hug. It's funny, that's probably the first time you ever hugged him, "Don't get too used to it, if you don't start changing up your attitude a bit."

His response is an annoyed grunt meant only halfheartedly, you almost think it's a threat of a laugh, actually, "I'll take what I can get, then."

Joel pushes you away a little, just so he can get a good look at you, his eyes roam your current less than regal state with an almost worried glint to them, trying to gauge if you're okay, or if there was something else you needed. He's always been very attentive to details, after all, his eyes linger a bit on your hair, a little longer than what you think it should.

"So," he starts, not knowing if he should bring this up, but, well, the thought had already crossed his mind, so he just let the question come out, "Was it worth it? Using your words?"

"It... was. I liked it a lot, honestly, you— you did great, I wasn't expecting... you know."

"Uh, yes, I was not expecting it either."

A soft laugh leaves your mouth, a smile plays on your lips.

"Oh, so it wasn't a plan of yours all along? Some machination of yours?" your tease earns you a very dragged out eye roll, it takes another laugh out of you.

"What do ya think I am? Some kind of mastermind?" he scoffs, shaking his head, and looking a little bit hurt, like you'd offended him, "You know, not everythin' that I say has some kinda double meanin'. Not everyone's like that."

"No, no, I get it," you assure, patting him in the shoulder, "Not everything you say is some secret agenda."

Joel's frown and slightly pinched expression dissolves with that, a tiny sigh leaving his lips, and he takes a few steps backwards, to give you space enough to put yourself, "Think ya can fix yourself up? Take a nice shower, put on some clothes that don't smell like fuckin' Boston?"

You cock your head to the side, and look down at yourself, then at him, "What about you, though?"

"Me?" Joel seems legitimately confused for a second, until he follows your gaze down, his hard on is still there, hard as ever, straining the denim of his pants. He looks back at you, a brow raised, arms crossed, you know that posture, some stupid fucking quip is about to come out of his mouth, "Think you can take it?"

The idea has a shiver running through you, you felt the dull ache on your inner walls, even as your breathing steadied.

"I don't think you can, not right now." he says before you can get a word in, and he grins at you, it's different that his other grins he'd always give you before, but it has the same fondness, "I'll be fine, I'm a grown man, I can handle it."

He could say that all he wanted, but you still see the discomfort, the little fidgety moves he does to find a good way to position his junk.

You could do it, though. If it came to that.

"You sure?"

"I'm sure you need a fucking shower." he claps back instantly, not giving into your offer, "I made a mess all over you."

"So crude, Jesus..." you scoff, but your feet dangle under you, completely carefree, the edge of the desk is digging on to your flesh, you think it'll bruise a bit, you can feel it in your ass, it was worth it, "You kiss your daughter with that mouth?"

"Sure, all the time." Joel grins, and takes the liberty of starting to tuck in his flannel back into the hem of his jeans, "And do even worse shit to you."

"Wow, real fucking classy." your voice is laced with sarcasm, though it lacks bite, your legs sway left to right as you watch him put himself back in order. It's such a mundane task, really, and you feel a little dumb for not realizing how you pulled and tugged at him, though he doesn't seem to mind.

Silence falls over you both as he finishes putting himself back in order, it's a comfortable kind of silence, for once, but Joel is still the first one to break it.

"If ya need me to, I'll stay a bit longer until after you shower, help you put your things in place..." he's interrupted by a buzz, Joel reaches a hand to his front pocket for his phone, an iPhone half a dozen generations old, checks the screen, and stuffs it back in, unbothered, "That kind of thing."

Your brows shoot up in curiosity, he didn't even pay whatever it was on his phone half his mind, his attention never faltered from you, his offer still hangs in the air, you want him to stay, but—

"Don't you have... things to do?" you ask, genuinely curious, "I mean, someone rang you up."

"It's just Sarah textin' me, askin' if I picked you up from the airport already, because I seem to be takin’ a long time to come back." Joel explains it to you, his gaze sweeps your desk and the floor, where the little chaos your activities had brought to it was. The laptop's screen has gone dark, so it probably died, but it's the only thing he could see out of order, "Should I tell her?"

He smiles at how you laughed, the affection in his gaze makes you feel warm inside.

"Don't you dare," you reply, jumping from the desk, your knees a little wobbly, and you fall right into his arms. Joel doesn't mind holding you, keeping you close to him, you feel like the luckiest woman in the whole state, maybe in the world, "But you should go back to her, y'know? She's your daughter."

"Yeah, I didn't forget that." he seems to not have forgotten how to be sarcastic, either, "But I know she's fine, you sure you don't want me to stay."

"It's fine." you say with a shake of your head.

Joel, like you were watching an old scene from an old movie, takes that characteristic deep breath of his, the trigger seems to be your tagline, it riles him up so much, apparently. You think it's funny.

"Fine— girl, didn't we have a whole conversation about this? I had to finger more words into your vocabulary, do I have to fuck this one out of you?" his exasperation, like his smile, is soft and tender, the scowl on his face, though, it's almost intimidating, if it wasn't because you already had him all figured out.

"You can try." your words have a double meaning, a playful note, but you meant every word. You'd let him have your body if he so much as asked for it, Joel already knows that, however.

"I mean it, it's alright."

"Do you?" he presses you further, he wants to make sure you're not just saying that for the sake of it, brushing his offer off just because it could apparently inconvenience him, you forgot, for a moment, how that man was stubborn as a fucking mule.

"I do." your tone is decided, "Besides, you two will come for dinner with my dad and I, right? He invited you."

"Yeah, he did." Joel muses, a bit lost on his thoughts, "Think ya can keep your trap shut around him for dinner about this?"

"Think you can look him in the eye during dinner after this?" is your rebuttal, Joel looks a little embarrassed, a little bashful smile pulls on his mouth, his gaze flutters down, looking for something that's not on the floor, on the walls, anything to keep himself from meeting your eyes.

"Guess I'll figure it out." his hand finds your cheek, caresses the curve of your face, he sighs, a sound of longing. Joel pulls away from you, the distance already making his body ache, it's not lost on you, you kinda feel the same way.

But it's fine, it really is. You'll see him and Sarah later today, still, this is not over, whatever this is.

The man opens the door to your room, opening it so he can leave, "I'll see you later, then, doll." he says, but then he shoots you a glance of mock sternness to you, over his shoulder, "I'll still fuck the 'fine' outta you, ya hear?"

You laugh, shaking your head.

"Alright, old man."

And before he closes the door, you catch one last glance of him, for now.

You hope he does.

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller one shot #dbf!joel #dbf!joel x reader #f!reader #pedro pascal characters #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #no outbreak!joel miller

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hongthoven · 2 years

Text

Baby Came Home

Rockstar!Hongjoong x fem!reader (smut)

⁂ pairing : rockstar!hongjoong x fem! reader

⁂ warnings : strong language, explicit sex

⁂ one shot | words count : 5.7k

⁂ tags&stuff : rockstar!hongjoong, tattooed!hongjoong, pierced!hongjoong, smoker!hongjoong, oral sex (giving), cheating, rough sex, pet names, hand holding, feelings are getting caught because who the fuck wouldn't fall for rockstar!hj - not me, your honor

⁂ plot : you go to hongjoong every time your boyfriend is being a jerk - which happens a lot - so he can fuck the anger out of you, but things take an unexpected spin when you attend one of his shows and his brand new song seems to spill a little bit more than beans.

⁂ author's notes : this was requested by my one & only muse @hongjoongsmaid ♥ and directly inspired by The Neighbourood's song "Baby Came Home" (omg just like the title of this story? OUTSTANDING) so I suggest you listen to it while reading because nothing will beat the thought of rockstar!hongjoong screaming the lyrics directly at you, amiright?

Please- P L E A S E, if you like it, comment + reblog as tumblr's algorithm seems to be a lot more complicated and some fics aren't showing in the tags, which leads to writers getting less and less notes and tbh it's very sad :(

Of course, if you think it's shit, don't interact - I'll just go cry in a corner. All in all, thanks for reading ♥

“Joong— I’m— I’m close—”

You were nothing but a whimpering mess on top of him, both of your hands attached to his shoulders as he took it as a signal to increase his pace, his insatiable hips rocketing against you as your own rhythm became a lot messier, your ass bouncing mercilessly against his thighs as your race to climax came closer to the final line.

“Wait for me, doll” Hongjoong barely growled, one of his hands traveling from your tits to your throat while the other kept you still with a strong grip over your hip, taking the lead. You had no idea how long you’d been there, riding his cock through a blissful state, but anyone could tell it had been a while from both of your glistening chests and the redness of your skin from being held forcefully for too long.

“I—I c-c-can’t” Your jaw seemed to tighten from the overwhelming pleasure running through your flesh, every part of your body suddenly too sensitive under Hongjoong’s expert touch. Clenching your fingers into his skin, almost scratching his shoulders to the bones, you could feel your spine stiffening as you were about to clench around his throbbing member when Hongjoong suddenly lifted your hips with both hands, breaking contact.

“I said wait for me! Can’t you just do that?” He smirked as you almost clenched over nothing, hips jolting from losing the unbearable overstimulation of his cock while only whines and complaints seemed to escape your pouty lips.

“Look at you– so eager to be fucked” Hongjoong chuckled almost too proudly as he teasingly smacked his head against your clit, collecting a frustrated groan out of your mouth, the sound of your own wetness almost too embarrassing as you tried to push him back inside of you. You were so close to finishing you were convinced a single thrust would make you see stars, but unfortunately, Hongjoong wasn’t having it.

“You look so fucking beautiful, doll” He smiled, sincerely endeared while leaning forward to catch your lips between his, his greedy tongue finding yours immediately as he finally pushed your hips downwards to fill you up again. Moaning into his mouth, overwhelmed with the pressure of yet another first thrust, you snaked your arms behind his neck as he pushed himself up into a seating position, his cock finding a brand new angle into the dampness of your pulsating cunt.

It wasn’t long until you crashed on top of him, body convulsing and only squeals coming out of your tired lips as Hongjoong wrecked your insides with a couple more steady, powerful thrusts while painting your walls white through a long, throaty moan. Though you felt dizzy, the sight of his veiny neck abused from his desperate pleas forced you to attach your mouth to his skin, licking the mole on the right side of his throat a second before you collapsed into his arms, completely exhausted.

______________________________________________________________

“We need to stop doing this”

Hongjoong shifted into the sheets, lifting himself up to rest his back against the wall as he watched you getting dressed. Sitting on the edge of the mattress, your nervous hands buttoning up your shirt while your eyes were looking around for a sight of your panties as you heard him scoff behind your back.

“I’m serious, Joong!” You paused, sighing to yourself as you turned around to face the man whose lips were still printed all over your neck. You hated that he still looked this breathtaking right after fucking you into oblivion. Ruffled blond hair all over the place, tattooed chest coated with sweat and his thin hips barely covered by the white sheet he had creased into his fist to hide the way his exhausted cock was now resting flat between his thighs as he reached for the pack of cigarettes on his nightstand.

“Could you not?” You frowned the minute he pinched a cig between his pink lips, raising both his eyebrows at your sudden mood swing.

“What? You’re afraid the smell of smoke may give him a hint? Darling, you look so fucked out even some blind guy down the streets could tell you’ve just been railed…” Hongjoong chuckled while lighting his cigarette. You watched as he rolled his eyes to the back of his head, filling his lungs with nicotine with a content smile upon his face.

“He knows something’s going on—” You added, suddenly more nervous as you fiddled with the hem of your shirt, looking down your lap “I think he’s seen some of your texts…”

“Poor baby, do you want me to send him some care package or somethin’?”

Now he was getting a little too cocky for your liking. As much as you adored this man, you just couldn’t let him get away with that attitude.

“There’s no need to be an asshole about it, you know?” You snapped, reaching for his face to rip the cigarette off his mouth, dropping it in the glass of water you had left on the floor seconds before Hongjoong had bent you over the bed.

“I’m being an asshole about it? You’re the one always coming back to me so I can fuck the pain away everytime your boyfriend is being a jerk to you and still, I’m the one you wanna leave behind?” You couldn’t help but feel bad for a second as you caught a glimpse of sadness and anger passing through his entire face, his natural pout as the main character while his eyes seemed to look everywhere but directly at you.

“That’s all it was always supposed to be, Joong. Sex.”

“Bullshit” He snapped back, his eyes locking with yours this time.

“You know I’m right”

“Bull-shit” You could hear his tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth as he moved towards you, the sheet drifting slightly to expose the thin lettering over his hip bone, your favorite tattoo of his.

“You think that’s what this is all about? Just sex? Read the fucking room, Y/N!”

Whether this was a confession or not, you felt terrible now, memories of the most precious moments spent with Hongjoong washing over you as your entire body started shivering under his touch the very second his palm pressed into your inner thigh.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me you love him– Tell me you want this to stop”

His voice was softer now, composed, yet raspier than ever as all of his anger and frustration seemed to be caught in his throat, his eyes begging for the answer he was desperately waiting for.

“I love him”

Though it was merely half of a whispered confession, Hongjoong felt it like a dagger pushed right into his chest, ripping his heart apart. Still, his eyes remained locked with your, his gaze heavy with a thousand thoughts as his fingers pressed into your flesh a little harder, forcing a wince out of you.

“You’re a pitiful liar…” Hongjoong spat through the heaviest scoff, his smokey breath coating your skin with goosebumps as he pushed himself away from you, his back hitting the wall again with force while your insides seemed to twist with guilt. You hated to see him like this, hated to disappoint the only genuine support you had in a fucked-up situation and above anything, you hated the fact he was completely right.

Biting his black, painted nail out of spite, Hongjoong watched as you eventually lifted yourself up from the bed, gathering your coat and your handbag, ready to leave. Out of the many things you had in common, stubbornness was definitely the worst as it often led you both to stick to your positions, whether you were right or wrong, lacking communication in the moments you needed it the most.

“You still comin’ to the show on friday, right?” Hongjoong eventually asked, completely ignoring the elephant in the room.

“Yeah—yeah we’ll be there”

You couldn’t miss the way he rolled his eyes, his obvious disgust painted all over his face as you recalled the many times Hongjoong had told you just how much he hated to hear you speak as a “we” when referring to such a dysfunctional relationship.

Hopping on one foot to zip up your ankle boot, you gave him one last look, once again stunned at the way your heart would still skip a beat at the sight of this man. The complete opposite of the one you called your boyfriend. Hongjoong was the archetype of a rockstar, every single one of his features dripping with lust and temptation. From his nose ring to the thin silver cross dangling from his earlobe or the now slightly smudged eye-liner making his cat eyes pop out of his perfect face, you often found pride in the fact he could get any girl, boy and their cousins into his bed but still chose you at the end of the day. There wasn’t a single time where Hongjoong had failed to answer your calls and even today, when he was so impossibly busy recording a new album in his studio, there wasn’t a glimpse of hesitation as soon as he had seen your name flashing upon his phone screen.

Consumed with guilt, you crawled back into bed to kiss him goodbye, every inch of your body trying not to brush his bare skin as you knew just how a single touch was enough for you to roll back into a filthy routine with the firmly established best fuck you ever had. While he wasn’t even trying to hide his bitterness, Hongjoong still allowed you to peck the corner of his lips just once without a flinch on his side - but as you were about to hop back into your feet and call it a day, you felt the strong grip of his hand behind your neck, pulling you back against his lips as his tongue was quick to find yours through a desperate, heavy kiss.

“What a waste of a fucking perfect mouth” Hongjoong growled, your bottom lip throbbing from being abruptly pulled, his teeth nibbling at it like he was trying to suck the venom out of a bee sting until he was fully satisfied with the puzzled look on your face. You hated the way he looked at you and made you feel like the only girl left in the world, hated the fact your entire body craved him again and how he only seemed to be the only one making you clench over a simple kiss and how he had definitely ruined sex with your own boyfriend but still, as your eyes locked once again, you couldn’t deny just how much you adored him. Regardless of the conflicted, unbalanced relationship you two had, Hongjoong still remained your favorite, go-to person.

Whether it was out of pride or the heartache of pulling apart, both of you failed to say a word as you quietly straightened yourself, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you escaped Hongjoong’s apartment at dusk.

The walk back to your own place felt different this time, wrapped into your coat where Hongjoong’s strong signature scent remained all over you, the coldness of an early night hit you by surprise, but it was nothing compared to the sudden realization of your feelings for the man you had left behind.

______________________________________________________________

Even a long bath wasn’t enough to get you rid of Hongjoong’s perfume, the smell of him so intense it felt like he had crawled under your skin to nest here forever and while you hated to admit it, there was something comforting about it, like having him around all the time made you safe and above anything, loved.

Sheathed in the warm, bubbly water, you allowed yourself to close your eyes for a minute, head still buzzing with the chaos of your thoughts. Without a fail, Hongjoong’s face was the first thing to come to your mind as you slowly drifted into daydream, the intensity of his gaze over your naked body making your skin burn like an ardent fire while your hand instinctively found its way between your thighs, ghosting the way Hongjoong loved to dominantly cup your pussy into his palm to make sure you knew who it belonged to.

Your fingers were quick to find your clit, rubbing it harshly to find the thrill you only seemed to find while locked into Hongjoong’s chokehold as he made you squirt repeatedly into his greedy palm, the smirk on his face a sight for sore eyes as you could vividly contemplate the pride within himself as he made you cum over and over again, his name never leaving your lips. Curling your digits, you could feel just how sore you were from the way he had pounded into you mercilessly earlier, the pain as vivid as your insufferable need to have him inside of you still. Hongjoong was nowhere near a soft lover to you, mostly because you never allowed him to be. You had made it clear from day one : what you needed from him was pure, filthy sex, leading him to have you up against a wall or bent over the desk in his studio, most of the time still partly dressed, the rush of being filled always beyond any sort of patience.

Your free hand grasping the edge of the tub, body trembling from the rush of an umpteenth orgasm, you were left panting, dizzy, but above anything: missing Hongjoong’s touch more than ever.

When your boyfriend showed up at your door that night, you were definitely ready to call it a day, both your body and mind exhausted by the events. Still, you knew how he always came back crawling after a fight, begging for your forgiveness while you had washed away the anger by riding another’s man cock until your boyfriend was merely a dark spot in the perfect cloudless sky of your life.

Of course, he made love to you that night. The barbling mess of his pitiful excuses ending as soon as he started kissing your neck and calling you sweet pet names you used to love but now gave you the icks - and while you should have felt ashamed, as soon as he thrust himself into you, Hongjoong’s face was the only thing you could see, his perfect frame towering over you, his typical smirk sending you over the edge quicker than ever as you bit the inside of your cheek not to moan his name out loud.

______________________________________________________________

Friday came quicker than you thought, the entire week passing by without talking to Hongjoong as you tried to keep the broken pieces of your life together by being a good girlfriend to your partner, ignoring the fact you no longer felt anything whenever he kissed you, his name on your phone screen only making you roll your eyes in despair.

You were ready to flip your phone so the screen would face your desk as it started buzzing with a new text, thinking it was probably your boyfriend confirming the time and place you two should meet later that night. You knew he wasn’t too happy about your evening’s plans, his passive-aggressiveness definitely increasing as the days went by while he probably hoped you’d change your mind about going to the show at all, but you weren’t having any of it. To be completely honest, the prospect of seeing Hongjoong again after days of absolute silence was the only thing sparing you from a proper mental breakdown. You missed him more than you would ever admit and when your eyes caught a glimpse of his name on your phone screen, there was no point denying the way your heart skipped a bit, your insides doing backflips as you opened his text.

from: joong ♥ still on for tonight? got a new song, can’t wait for you to hear it.

Part of you was sad not to see his typical flirting tone, his text almost too formal when he usually loved to play with your nerves and send you the most inappropriate things at the worst possible times. You had lost count of his random sexting and obscene selfies while he knew you were stuck in a major meeting at work, surrounded by your entire hierarchy and definitely not in the best situation to enjoy the sight of his veiny hand tucked into his jeans, the obviousness of his bulge making you clench in silence. While it shouldn’t come as a surprise from an actual rockstar, Hongjoong’s unapologetic slutiness still left you baffled most of the time.

You were quick to reply, your urge to sound busy definitely gone at the mere thought of a well-needed catch up. from: youcan’t wait to hear it ! any dress code? x

While he stammered through the days as the absolute rock legend he was, arrogance of a king barely masked behind the audacity of a typical “I don’t give a fuck” attitude, Hongjoong still had a major fashion sense and would never get caught wearing the same outfit twice. On many occasions, he had even dared to flag a couple of your fits as outmoded, the disgusted look on his face speaking a thousand words - and while you couldn’t care less about people’s opinions most of the time, you inevitably seeked Hongjoong’s approval, his praises fueling your pride in a way only he knew how.

from: joong ♥ well you know how I like your bare cunt but dickface would cry about it.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the way he never missed an occasion to diss your boyfriend while rubbing your thighs together instinctively. The chokehold this man had on you was ridiculous at this point.

from: youthat’s not very nice.

from: joong ♥ you don’t want me to be nice, doll.

Chuckling into your palm, you could feel your entire face burning from all the flirting, once again a mere puddle of feels cupped into this man’s hands. The pet name sent you over the edge, your leg crossing above the other as you seeked for any sort of friction now that Hongjoong had unexpectedly lit that fire inside of you. Still, you had work to do and a couple hours ahead before the show. You couldn’t just concede to the filth of your thoughts just now.

from: you see you tonight, joong.

from: joong ♥ see u, doll

As you bit your bottom lip to refrain a well-needed moan, you knew your day was ruined already but now you also dreaded the moment you would see Hongjoong again, not trusting yourself in the same room as your boyfriend while your entire body craved another man.

_____________________________________________________________

The venue was packed- not that it was a surprise. While Hongjoong was still a superstar on the rise, his popularity had reached its peak lately with the release of a couple hit songs, his impeccable visuals and incredible writing skills making him an artist whose career was definitely taking a spin in the toughness of the current music industry.

Obviously, Hongjoong had hooked you up with the nicest seats in the room, giving you the most perfect overlook at the crowd in the standing pit as you stood front row in the balcony, directly at the side of the stage making it easy for him to interact directly with you while you hoped he would behave for the sake of your mental strength.

As your boyfriend made his way through the seat rows with two pints of beer, holding his arms up in the air to make sure he wouldn’t spill any, you smiled in content, loving the buzz of a pre-show as you recognized Hongjoong’s familiar music taste in the playlist hyping the crowd before his big entrance while trying your best to ignore the fact he had fucked you to a couple of these songs before.

For a brief second, you thought to yourself that it wouldn’t be so bad to travel around the country and follow him on tour, the thrill of a sleepless night in a tour bus definitely getting you to clench over nothing while surrounded by a raging crowd who you knew was probably just as aroused by that man - the only difference was that you were lucky enough to know what his dick tasted like.

You felt your boyfriend’s arms wrapping around your waist as soon as the lights went off, the crowd screaming at the mere sound of drums and you knew from his tight grip that it was nothing but him marking his territory, probably wishing Hongjoong would catch a glimpse of you two loved up in the front row. But to your own surprise, Hongjoong wasn’t the attention seeker you expected him to be, sticking to a couple glimpses every now and then, his smile inevitably widening at the sight of you wearing the cropped oversized Givenchy t-shirt he had bought for you a week ago, not missing the opportunity to let you know how great your tits would look without a bra in that crop cut. Obviously, you had failed to let your boyfriend know about your bare breast, keeping this detail as a dirty little secret between you and Hongjoong.

It wasn’t until he came back after a quick break in the middle of the show that your evening took a dramatic spin as Hongjoong grabbed the mic to face the crowd, making an announcement.

“I’m gonna play the next song for the first time ever for you guys— I wrote it just a couple days ago so it might sound a little rough…. Then again, you know I like it rough, right?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the raunchy comment, fascinated with the way he always knew how to entertain a crowd and make it his. Your boyfriend, on the other hand, didn’t seem to find his attitude amusing as he scoffed his bitterness directly into your ear before taking a long sip of his beer, his arm tightly wrapped around your neck.

“The song’s called Baby Came Home and it’s about a girl who rides my dick like no one”

Your heart jumped off your chest as soon as Hongjoong locked eyes with you, his mischievous smile growing bigger as every color seemed to fade away from your face, blood only rushing to your brain as the dizziness took over to the beat of the song. You could feel your boyfriend’s body stiffening at the sight of Hongjoong, watching him flirt with the mic stand as he hummed the lyrics in the most sensual way, the explicit filthiness of his thoughts pretty obvious for everyone in the crowd to see.

Baby came home today

Told me to stay away

She told me her man was afraid

Told me I better behave

Walking to the side of the stage, Hongjoong looked up directly into your eyes, his smile tucked in the corner of his lips as he raised an eyebrow in a taunting way, his tongue poking in the inside of his cheek while he pretended to choke himself with his black, painted nails, grazing his skin in a very specific way that purposely reminded you of the way you loved to scratch his neck whenever he filled you up to the brim.

Thinking about her

She's gone all the time

I think if you found her

That even you would know she's mine

Jumping on top of one of the guitar amps so he would stand directly at your level, Hongjoong never paid attention to the rest of the crowd anymore, his eyes bouncing from yours to your boyfriend’s, finding pride in the way he seemed to be more and more furious with every word coming out of his mouth. Now if the lyrics weren’t enough, Hongjoong’s attitude was beyond any decency as he started to stutter the lyrics through a moan, body rolling against his own palm as he grabbed a handful of himself while keeping his gaze locked on you, knowing just how your body would react at the sight of him- and while you were definitely forced into the most awkward situation between your lover and boyfriend, you couldn’t deny just how wet his whole performance had gotten you already.

Baby came home today

Told me to stay away

Told me her man was afraid

Told me I better behave

Petrified, you watched as Hongjoong smirked at your boyfriend, flipping him off with his tongue out in the most provocative way you could think of. You didn’t know exactly when he had stopped hugging you from behind but it’s only when Hongjoong dared to come closer, leaning forward to scream the very last part of the song that you realized he was already gone. Resting backwards with his back tilted in your direction and the back of his head against the edge of the balcony, Hongjoong closed his eyes, screaming the lyrics with his entire heart and soul, the violence of his words matching the hectic beating of your own heart into your chest.

She's mine, she's mine

That girl is mine, she's MINE.

Out of breath, you felt suddenly exposed as the entire venue seemed to look at you like the main character in the story now that Hongjoong had failed to be discreet about it. Wrapping your own arms around yourself, you gave him a cold stare as he blew you a kiss, going back to the center of the stage like nothing happened. Alone and distraught, you missed the rest of the show, completely lost in your own thoughts, wrapped into a smokey haze from the stage and the awful smell of the beer your boyfriend had spilled on his way out.

______________________________________________________________

“Are you out of your FUCKING mind?” you spat as you barged into the backstage room, directly aiming at Hongjoong as he was resting on the couch with one of his feet up the coffee table, his top already off his bare, sweaty chest.

“Didn’t like my little homage, doll?” He smirked, obviously proud of his move as he waved his hand into the air, motioning for his bandmates to leave the room and give you privacy.

“Oh they can stay– you made a complete fool of me in front of an audience, I can slap the shit out of you in front of your band, can’t I?”

“Trust me, doll, you don’t want them to stay…” He was standing now, walking directly into your direction, his black, glittery eye-shadow melting with sweat from a two hours show in an overheated venue. His blonde hair was all over the place but still, he looked absolutely stunning.

“Why’s that? Don’t want them to see you getting punched in the face?”

“No, doll…” he shook his head with a smile, his hands already framing your face as he slowly walked you towards the nearest wall, “I just don’t want any of them to see you with a mouthful of my cock” his tone almost turned into a growl as he chuckled so close to your face you could feel the warmth of his breath ghosting your lips with a foggy coat filled with lust.

“Fuck you, Hongjoong– you had no fucking right to do that!” You tried to push him away, your fist stammering against his chest as he kept you close still, his lips already attacking your neck as you found yourself locked between his body and the wall behind your back.

“Had to–” He barely groaned, nibbling at your neck “you didn’t know how to drop his pathetic ass— you should be fucking thankful” traveling his lips along your throat, Hongjoong purposely ignored your constant whining, his hands pushing past your top only to be delighted with the touch of your bare, erected nipples against his palms.

“No bra, uh?” He smiled, a little too proudly for your liking, “see, you’re not just a brat after all– sometimes you do listen to me”.

“Fuck off” You inevitably moaned as soon as his mouth found your tits, his viscious tongue darting against your nipple while his thumb toyed with the other. There was no point trying to fight any longer as your body failed to match your accusations. Pushing your hips against his growing bulge, your hands brushing through his hair as his started to suck on your breast through the most obscene sounds, you couldn’t help but moan under his touch, your thighs squeezed together so tightly you could almost feel your arousal spilling out of your crushed pussy.

“You know damn well he could never fuck you like I do” Hongjoong added, his eyes finding yours again as one of his hand pulled at your hair, tilting your head just enough to confirm his statement while the other was already unbuckling his belt, the sound of his zipper sounding like a blissful reward as your mouth inevitably started to water.

“Lost your tongue, doll?” He smiled, his hand abandoning his hardened cock to slip between your thighs forcefully, his middle finger immediately collecting a fair coat of your wetness and spreading it along your slit at a painfully slow pace.

“You can say you hated every part of it but your body says otherwise— I think you’d let me fuck you in front of that crowd if you had a chance… Let everyone see how I make this pussy mine, hmm?” His lips were back on yours again, nibbling, licking, biting until you caved and started to grind against his palm, wishing his fingers would slip inside of you already. Hongjoong definitely had a way with words that tickled your imagination in the best possible ways, and for a second, you were definitely kneeling on that stage, both of his hands holding your head still as he deepthroated you in front of a crowd, the painful mix of humiliation and exhibition kink taking its toll on you as your body instinctively slipped against the wall until you were down on your knees, eye-leveled with Hongjoong’s cock.

Without a word, you looked up to meet his gaze, finding pride in the way his lips curved into an O as soon as you wrapped your hand around his shaft, teasing his balls with the flat of your tongue until you started to drag your lips along his stiff cock, taking your time to coat him with saliva as you felt him groan behind his gritted teeth, his hands fiddling with your hair while you finally pushed his head past your lips, swallowing every inches of him until the bitter taste of precum hit the back of your throat.

While you loved to give him head, his cock a perfect fit for your trained jaw, you didn’t feel like going all the way today, a simple taste more than enough to get the fuel going as you popped him out of your lips before your knees even started to bruise against the carpeted floor. Luckily, as rough as Hongjoong could be as a lover, he was never the one forcing you into doing anything and while any other man could have kept you down until your face was plastered with cum, this one man you adored never complained about the throbbing hard-on you had left behind.

“Fuck, doll- you don’t even know how much I fucking adore you…” Hongjoong almost whispered through a kiss, unbothered by his own taste over his tongue as both of his hands found their way behind your thighs, lifting you up against the wall as your legs were left dangling above his veiny arms and wide open for him.

It only took a single, powerful thrust to make you scream his name, your back slamming forcefully against the wall as Hongjoong started to hammer himself into your soaking wet cunt, his throat vibrating against your shoulder as he growled out of complete bliss, loving the way you swallowed him entirely and the obscenity of your skin slapping together mixed with the thundering sound of your body crashing against the wall everytime he pinned you back into it. He was merciless, as usual, only this time there seemed to be something different, your heart skipping a beat the moment your legs attached behind his back so he could grab both of your hands, intertwining your fingers together as he kept it firmly against the wall while pounding at a brutal pace.

Panting heavily, pins and needles all over your legs, your eyes finally locked with his, his lips slightly red from sucking on your neck for too long as his face seemed painted with a newly found type of adoration, eyes filled with love as his mouth curved into a soft smile to match his decreasing pace. The longer you stared into each other's eyes, the softer Hongjoong seemed to become, his hips rolling slowly against you as he barely pulled out anymore, finding his peak in the way you seemed to keep him inside your warmth, never letting go. Tilting his head to the side, his mouth found yours one more time, his kiss a lot softer yet deeper this time, tongues rolling over each other as you both hummed in perfect euphoria.

Lifting you up and off the wall, Hongjoong made sure you were tightly attached to his hips as he walked you towards the couch, crashing his back against it while you straddled his lap, his cock never slipping out as you started to bounce slowly, enjoying every inch of him while his hands pushed your shirt past your shoulders, lips all over your shoulders, throat and chest.

“Fuck—Joong…” You moaned as soon as his lips smacked around your tit, pulling at it slightly while rolling his tongue over your erected nub, your back arching naturally into his palm as you could feel yourself getting closer to climax.

“I’m close” There you were again, whimpering into this man’s arms, cunt full of him, both of your hands framing his perfect face as your eyes dived into his soul while he drove you to the most blissful state, just like days before.

Only this time he didn’t ask for you to wait for him.

Both of you had already waited long enough to be there.

At last, you were home.

#hongjoong x reader #ateez smut #hongjoong smut #rockstar!hongjoong

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joongwooclub · 1 year

Text

Someone's Jealous ~ K. HJ.

synopsis: you're dating kim hongjoong from ateez, everything was fine until a small little comment was made.

warnings: smut, degradation, arguments, cussing, foul language, voyeurism

✩: reblogs / comments + feedbacks are appreciated!! story under cut!

“Yunho, please leave me alone. I have a headache and I don’t feel well”, you said while laying on the couch backstage. You were chilling backstage with the members and your boyfriend, Hongjoong. You have been dating Hongjoong for about four years so you have known Ateez for some time but you were never close with Yunho. You dont know why but it was always a thing to where you would hang out with all of the other members besides Yunho. You decided to change that when Guerrilla promotions came around to where you started to hang out with Yunho more and more just to get to know him more. But now, its the worst time for Yunho to try to bother you.

Hongjoong wanted to play a “game” with you, so you had a bluetooth vibrator inside you while he had the remote, controlling it whenever he chooses. You had at least been with them all day with it inside you and had been denied your release at least four times. You were getting tired and exhausted from the pleasure leaving your body and coming back every time Hongjoong wanted to turn off and on the vibrator and you just wanted to cum at least one good time. The only ones who were the room with you now is only Hongjoong and Yunho due to the boys getting ready and socializing with other idols that are doing their promotions. Hongjoong saw Yunho bothering you and was slowly getting jealous that Yunho was hanging around you this whole time. He has been jealous of you hanging out with Yunho and the fact Yunho has been close with you has been infuriating. He knows how some of members think of you, but Yunho probably has the dirtiest mind when it comes to you, but Yunho knows not say anything……well, almost knows.

He never said anything to you about it but, you know Hongjoong long enough to know that he was jealous. Yunho finally caught on that you were not in the mood to be bothered by him and turned around to walk out the room to get ready for the next stage when he notice something in Hongjoong’s hand. Something small but a bright red, color resembling a remote. Yunho put two and two together and realized what Hongjoong was doing to you. “Hyung”, Yunho said getting Hongjoong’s attention. “Lets get ready to go”. Hongjoong nodded his way and walked over to you, kissed your forehead and walked out of the room. As both of them leave the room, Hongjoong finally turned off the vibrator right when it was harder to hold back the moans that were gonna coming from the back of your throat.

After letting out a breath that you did not know that you were holding in, you were finally let your body calm down from the pleasure that was rushing through it. You were able to stand up without wobbling of course as you walk to the side of the stage to watch the boys perform. Well…. more so watching Hongjoong, just in a trance due to his stage presence and watching his facial expressions. You can see why Atinys put him with Sannie and Hwa in demon line, because of the many reasons you have fallen for that man was that. His energy and the passion he has on stage every time he steps on it drives you crazy. It put a bundle of nerves in your stomach when he makes eye contact with you and smirks at you while perform as you rub your thighs to apply some pressure to your heat.

Time Skip

After the performance, everyone headed backstage and started to clean everything up so they could go back to the dorms and enjoy the rest of the day off. You were helping put their makeup and outfits up with the makeup artists and wardrobe people until you started to hear shouting and yelling down the hall. You immediately dropped everything to see what the hell was happening. At first, you thought it could have Woosan picking a fight with each other, but when you got to everyone, it was Hongjoong and Yunho beating on each other like animals. Despite Hongjoong’s size compared to Yunho, Hongjoong was able to pin down the larger male on the ground and continuous throwing punches. “stop Joongie”, you yelled. While the members were pulling Hongjoong off of Yunho, it was like a switch in his brain as soon as he heard your voice. It was like it brought him back to reality. As soon as he snapped out of whatever trance he was in, he was able to push the boys off of him and ran up to you. He immediately hugged you and dragged you away outside to one of their vans and asked the driver to take you guys to your apartment. Usually Hongjoong would stay at your apartment since you guys cant live together due to the boys need to be together for schedules and such. The driver nodded and then asked, “wait what about the other members, Mr. Kim?” “They have the other two vans. They have a way of getting home, now please drive.” You have never seen Hongjoong like this before. You have seen him agitated when it comes to work or even him being mad at a company when comes to performances or even awards, but never with his members especially beating them to a damn pulp. You guys have finally got to your apartment, thanked the driver and walked to your front door with Hongjoong covering his face with a mask and hat due to wanting to hide his face from any photos that might be taken without his permission.

As soon as you guys got in your apartment, you immediately pulled Hongjoong into the nearest bathroom and had him sit down on the stool while you grabbed a first aid kit and started to bandage his knuckles and started to clean his bloody lip. “Hiss”, Hongjoong said after you take a small cotton swab with hydrogen peroxide. “Sorry love, now will you explain to your girlfriend why the fuck you were beating the shit out of Yunho? Like what the fuck did he do to deserve it?” Hongjoong looked at you with a little anger behind his eyes. “baby can you please tell me what is going on”, you said wrapping his fingers. “So Yunho made a comment and I did not like the way he said nor the comment itself, so I slightly got mad and well you saw what happened”, he said in a low tone. Your curiosity got the better of you as the next question slipped from your lips. “What was Yunho’s comment”? Immediately Hongjoong’s aura changed to a calm one to where he was tensed and you could see it right when it changed, right down to the look in his eye. You were about to tell him to not tell you then he sighed and spoke. “He said that he saw me with the vibrator remote and was wondering if he could join in. I said no calmly but, then that motherfucker turned and said “aww I’m upset now, I know she would have looked so pretty trembling on my dick.” After that, I fucking lost it”. Your face was in utter shocked when you heard this. You had never thought that Yunho or just any of the other members would have thought of you like that or even tell Hongjoong about it. You finished bandaging his knuckles and putting a little ointment on his lip before kissing him on the cheek. You could see his body relax after your action, just confirming something small to him. “Love, you know I don’t look at the members that way and I just shocked that he would say something like that”, you said holding both of his hands in yours and just gently rubbing the back of his hands. “I know baby, its just the fact he has been looking at you like that, when you belong to me. That’s why I got so fucking mad. You belong to me and them thinking they could fuck that pretty pussy of yours makes me shake in anger. No one can touch you the way I do. No one can kiss you the way I do and no one can claim you the way I do”, he said this while getting off the stool he was sitting on, slowly walking and pinning you between the wall and himself.

“Joongie”, you said whining, thinking about what he just said and let your body indulge in the warmness that was spreading due to his words and how he’s looking at you. The look he has is a lustful one but, almost a devilish look, similar to the one he has on stage when he performs. “Fuck baby, you have had me horny all fucking day. Knowing you had been holding back with that vibrator and then with Yunho’s comment. Just makes me want to mark you up and show them that you only are mine and they can’t fucking touch you”. Hongjoong immediately pushes you against the wall and starts to kiss you. The taste of strawberries was from some candy he had in the van on the way here on his lips made you feel weak in your knees where you started to moan softly. “Jump baby”, he whispered in your ear as he picked you and wrapped your legs around his waist. He moved from your lips and started to lightly kiss your neck as you moan his name, wanting more in this moment. “See they can’t hear your pretty little moans but, I might let them hear you scream my name, knowing that its only me that can make you feel this way”, he said kissing my neck and collarbone. He stopped kissing you and looked at you dead in your eyes. His smile that appeared on his face made fall more in love with him as he kissed you more one time on the lips before carry you into your bedroom and softly placing you on the bed. “Now lets take care of my babygirl since we couldn’t do anything earlier”, he said hovering over you and smirking.

He started to strip you out your top as he kissed your chest and all over your collarbone. “Daddy…”, you started to whine louder, craving him more and more to where you were slightly grinding on him. “Slow down babygirl. I still wanna have a little fun”, he said smirking, taking off your bra and throwing it somewhere in the room. All you feel is Joongie start to suck on your nipple on one of your breast while massaging the other. He is slowly realizing that you are getting louder while he was sucking. You could feel his hands glide over your body where he stopped at the band of your shorts. “Please daddy, I needed you all day and I want you so bad”, you said whining and begging him. “Ok babygirl, let me give what you want since you have a good little girl today”. He kissed your lips again before taking off his own shirt and his pants while licking his lips. “Babygirl, you just keep looking better and more sexier”, he said with a smirk on his face, crawling over you and slowly sliding down your shorts and underwear to the floor. He pulled you closer, kissed your lips one moe time before moving down between your legs. “Now hold still princess so I can enjoy my meal”. He immediately started to kiss the inside of your thigh and slowly stated to licked your clit. “Ahh please”, you started to beg more for Hongjoong to go faster. You could feel him smirk and started to suck faster and slowly push one of his fingers, then another finger inside of you. You moaned louder as you enjoyed the feeling of his fingers hitting your g-spot. “fuck daddy im… gonna….”, you said not letting the words come to you as your brain not letting you thinking about anything besides how Hongjoong’s fingers feel in you and his mouth and tongue on your clit. “Go on baby, cum on my fingers for me”. As soon as he said that, you feel a wave of pleasure shot through your body as you moan his name as loud as possible. He looks at you and smirking, guiding the two fingers that were in you into your mouth as you suck them. “See baby, now you know how good you taste”.

A thought snuck into Hongjoong’s mind as he reached over you and grab his phone. “Daddy what are……..”? “Watch and see baby”. He started to smirk as he clicked something on his phone before you heard the facetime ringtone dial from the device. He smiled and put his finger to his lips in a shushing move to tell you that you better not make a sound. You slowly nodded, watching him yell whoever was on the opposite line. “Hyung, where in the hell are you”, the voice you recognized as Mingi said. “Yah where’s everyone”, Hongjoong said while looking at you in the state that left you. You were softly whimpering as he slowly rubs the tip of his dick against your heat. He gave you a warning look as he called for Mingi to go get the rest of the members besides Seonghwa in a room in the dorm where they can all hear and look at the phone. Mingi was able to get everyone in a room while you hear Seonghwa say that he was leaving and not coming until later. “Call me from one of the laptops”, Hongjoong said as he started to smirk. The only thing is that I was the only one to see his face before Mingi hung up. A few seconds later, you heard the ringtone meaning Mingi was calling back. Hongjoong answered to see everyone without the eldest member there. “Now where are you, hyung”, Wooyoung asked. “You guys will see in a little bit, but I do want to say one thing. We share everything in that goddamn dorm. I refuse to share whats mine”. As soon as he finished saying that, he flipped the camera and immediately pushed himself to you. “Baby, you have to let them know who you belong to”, he said smirking. “Tell them how you are my dirty little slut and how you will be my little slave”. He was slowly speeding up with thrusting into you as you started to moan his name. “Daddy……”, you said losing your mind as he keep hitting your g spot harder and harder. “You like that babygirl? You want me to got faster?” You quickly nod as he started to go faster as he propped the phone on the dresser next to both of you so the boys could see you and visa versa. You could tell Hongjoong was finding this amusing as the other boys started talking and saying little comments about you and how Hongjoong was fucking you. “Yall see how she obeys and behaves so well for me and only me. You guys can watch and listen all yall want, but just know that you will never know how her pussy feel when she is about to cum or how tight she is or even hearing her moan and scream your name. That all belongs to me”. He started to go faster to where your brain couldn’t keep up and you just screaming his name as he holds you down in missionary as he watches himself go in and out of you. “Thats it baby, cum for me. Let them hear you what I do to you”. You felt the pressure building up in your stomach as you cum all over his dick. He slowed down a little as he cum into you. “Fuckkkk….”, you both said coming down from the highs and he pulls out of you, a small whine comes from you as you already missed the feeling of being full and filled up by Joongie. You turned your head to the right to see the phone sitting there with shocked faces from Mingi and Yunho, Wooyoung and San gone, and Yeosang and Jongho sitting there in silent with bloodshot red faces.

“I hope you boys enjoyed the show, but I’m gonna go and finish spending quality time with my love”, Hongjoong said as he reached over to grab the phone and hung it up. He put the phone back down and leaned over you to kiss you once more. “I think I like this possesive Joongie a little bit”, you said giggling as you pecked his lips. He chuckled and kissed you more one time as he slowly got up and walked to the bathroom to start running the shower. He came back in the room to find slowly falling asleep. “Come on baby, lets get you nice and clean and then we can go get some rest”, he said picking you and having you straddle his torso as he carried you to the shower. “I love you Joongie”, you said in a low voice, but loud enough for him to hear. “I love you too my love”, he said kissing the side of your head, placing you down and climbing into the shower with you . He washed your body and massaged your shoulders and legs as he cleans you, remembering to be very gentle as you were still sensitive. Hongjoong dried the both of you off and changed into some clothes that you keep for him when he stays over. He dresses with over sized t-shirt with no shorts or underwear to let your body breathe and rest. He carried you into the bed, crawling next to you and cuddling you as you fall back to sleep. “Sleep well my future wife. I will forever be with you”, he said smiling at you and falling asleep as well.

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