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lovedazai · 2 days

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SOMETHING I WAIT FOR . . . dazai has a close call. he barely makes it to your apartment but you’re there just in time, in more ways than one.

ft. pm!dazai + f!reader, pm!reader, blood and injuries, mentions of drowning / suicidal ideation from dazai, a little suggestive in some parts, 3.6k w.c.

p.s.! ⊹ ࣪ ˖ if you catch the its okay to not be okay references, ily <3 !!

EVERYWHERE, EVERYTHING SERIES MASTERLIST

dazai hates pain.

if the idiot who shot him would’ve aimed just a little bit higher, it might've been a fatal wound. instead, all he did was graze his shoulder. it wasn’t enough to cause serious harm, but just enough to make him bleed in miseryー just his luck.

the man must’ve been dead by now, taken care of by one of his subordinates. he didn’t stay long enough to find out, slipping from the scene before anyone could try to force him into the mafia’s infirmary. he knows your apartment is close.

he’s nearing the point of being injured where the pain fades and melts into pure exhaustion. he hates the way his blood feels against his hands, and he uses it to ground himself. it’s already soaked through his shirt, wet and warm as it seeps between his fingers and drips down his arm, absorbing into the bandages around his wrist. his already obscured vision is fading, white stars glistening from beneath the edge of his lashes, but he keeps his eyes trained ahead on your building. he swears you used to only have one apartment door, his vision doubling and growing hazy.

just a few more steps. that’s all he needs to make it to you.

he huffs as his hand slips from your doorknob, sliding off the metal from his weak grip. he falls forward, blood smearing against the doorframe where his palm flattens as he tries to steady himself, pressing his forehead against your door with a quiet thump. you have to be home right now. right? please be home right now.

as soon as you open your door from the other side of your apartment, he collapses, landing against your chest. he curls against you, inhaling the scent of your skin with the desperation of a man who’d just been saved from drowning.

“dazai?” you stumble backward, but he doesn’t weigh nearly enough to make you fall. you wrap your arms around his shoulders, and he grips your shirt in his hands, trying to press himself impossibly closer to you. he can feel the moment you realize he’s bleeding, your chest stalling mid-inhale. “oh my god, dazai.”

his jacket slips from his shoulders, falling to the floor limply as you carry him inside, kicking the door closed with your foot. his feet drag against your carpet as he tries to walk, but he’d rather use his waning strength to snuggle closer into your side than keep his balance. even with your body supporting his own, he plops unceremoniously onto your couch.

“it’s okay,” he shivers when you start to unbutton his shirt, pulling back the bloody, frayed fabric stuck to his skin. he can’t tell if you’re talking to him or yourself. “you’re okay.”

his bangs are damp, yokohama’s humidity and his own sweat gluing them to his forehead. you push them back, stroking your thumb along the edge of his bandage over his cheek tenderly.

“are you hurt anywhere else?”

he tilts his head to press his face into your palm and smiles at you. you’re so pretty when you frown at him like this.

“i’ll be right back,” you squish his cheeks between your hands, making his lips pucker. “don’t try to move.”

he has to stop himself from reaching back out for you when you let him go. he squeezes the fabric of his trousers instead, watching you disappear past the couch’s limited view. he wants to pull you on top of him and beg you to ignore the blood leaking out of his body, to just wrap your arms around him and hold him until there’s nothing left between the two of you. it still wouldn’t be close enough; if he had the choice, he would shrink down and make a home inside your chest.

he tries his best to relax into the cushions beneath him. he’d much rather be in your bed than on your couch, but it was still yours, and that made it enough for him to want to sink into it until it absorbed him whole. your apartment was nothing like his hollow shipping container, the metal walls suffocating in the summer heat.

he could’ve dragged himself there instead. maybe he would’ve finally died from blood loss if he was lucky. that’s what he wants. really.

so then why did he drag himself here? because you felt safe?

dazai came to a realization a few days ago, one more painful than the wound in his shoulder, or the fact he has a mission with chuuya a few days from now. ever since it planted its dirty roots in his brain, he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it.

it grew deeper every time his chest tightened around you, or his heart fluttered at the sight of your smile, or his stomach churned in jealousy when someone else touched you.

this, his mind taunted him, is what people say love feels like. worst of all, when he whined to odasaku and ango about how annoying you were, they didn’t stop talking about his “crush” for the rest of the night.

his body protests as he sits up, vision swimming as the walls of your living room tilt. he tries to blink it away when he hears you sigh as you come back from down the hallway. he makes his one visible eye big and pouts his lips when he looks at you.

“dazai,” the medical supplies you always keep on hand are cradled in your arms as you walk back toward him. “i told you not to move.”

“you took too long,” he whines. “i’m dying, you know.”

“you wish.” you guide him back down gently, your hands leaving tingles beneath his skin in their wake. he watches you kneel beside him, organizing the little bottles and boxes on your coffee table. you press down on one of the white lids with the heel of your palm, twisting it and knocking it upside down. you hand him one of the pills that fall out, and he swallows it dry.

you open another one of your bottles, and the familiar, sterile smell could be nothing other than saline. it’s cold against his skin, but your touch is what makes him shiver and his hair raise. you squeeze his leg softly, running your fingers against his thigh. it ignites something warm in his stomach, but it fades to white pain when the liquid absorbs into his wound. he jolts, and you murmur an apology, squeezing his thigh a little tighter. you’re trying to distract him, and it works pathetically well.

when you get closer to clean the drying blood off his skin, he can’t help but let his eyes fall to your lips, slightly parted in concentration. you’re close enough for him to kiss, and against the ache of his shoulder, all he can think about is how you might taste.

he wonders how soft you’d feel if he traced the shape of your lips with his tongue. he imagines the sweet sting of you pulling his hair as he memorizes every inch of you he can, taking everything you give him and more. it’d be different from the other people he’s kissed, he knows it; using his mouth to get information out of theirs did nothingー if anything, he felt more numb when it was over.

he can see a familiar box from the corner of his eye: it’s the brand of bandages he always uses, the only kind that doesn’t irritate his scarred, sensitive skin. he watches your fingers as they delicately pull the beginning of the roll, imagining the feeling of you wrapped around his bare body instead of the cotton he adorns himself with.

you turn him on his side to wrap the bandages around his shoulder and under his arm. once the ends are tied, nice and snug around him, you sit back on your heels.

“can i have your hand?”

he gives you both, trying to hide the way they tremble. you grab the one covered in blood tenderly as you begin to clean it off.

“i guess you weren’t lucky enough to die this time,” you smile teasingly, but he knows it isn’t real. it doesn’t look right on your face, like a mask that’s too big. he can see the worry you try to hide, clouding your eyes like murky water. he hates it. “sorry.”

“i never get what i want,” he sighs. “i think i’m cursed. do you have something to cure that in one of those little bottles too?”

“i don’t know if you’ll ever die, even when you become an old man,” if, not when, he wants to correct, but holds his tongue. “you’re like a cockroach.”

“yeah?” he reaches up to poke your face with his bloody fingers as you try to hold him still. “you’re like a little kid.”

“you’re more like a kid than i am.”

“nuh uh.”

“yeah,” you giggle, catching his hand back in your own. you wipe down each of his fingers, gently scrubbing the spaces in between. “you are.”

when he speaks again, he’s surprised by how quiet his voice is. he almost hopes you don’t hear him. “how?”

“because,” your voice softens, holding his now clean hand. you trace over one of the lines on his palm with your thumb. “you want to be loved.”

he feels like he can’t breathe as he realizes that for once, he doesn’t have the upper hand. all of his walls he’s so carefully built, it’s like they’re made of glass around you. the possibility that you see him more clearly than he sees you terrifies him.

the painkillers are starting to kick in, drowsiness creeping up on him and making his eyelids heavy as he melts against the cushions despite his pounding heart. when was the last time he slept? he can’t remember.your fingers are gentle as they brush his bangs back. your touch makes his eyes fall completely closed before he feels something soft and warm presses against his forehead. he hears a whisper of his name, a quiet sweet dreams, and then he’s asleep.

it only really feels like he blinked. when he opens his eyes again, it’s dark. the light from your kitchen leaks through the hall, permeating the living room in a soft glow. he wiggles his toes, feeling the soft blanket you draped over his legs while he slept.

he gets up slowly, creeping off the couch and across your floor. he peeks past the kitchen doorway, grinning when he sees your back is facing him. you’re halfway bent over the counter with your chin resting in your hand, staring absently at the tea kettle on the stove, waiting for it to boil.

he keeps his steps quiet, walking on the tips of his toes. he sinks his teeth into his lip to bite back his smile as he leans closer, taking advantage of the fact you’re completely zoned out.

“boo.”

you flinch, hand closing around a butterknife on your counter, still smeared with jelly from a late-night snack. you turn sharply, pointing the dull blade in his direction. he grabs your wrist before it grazes him, smiling innocently.

“dazai,” he thinks his name sounds so pretty when you sigh it out like that. you drop the knife back onto your counter. “should you even be standing right now? go lay back down. i can bring you something to eat.”

the thought of you taking care of him like this ignites that warm feeling in his stomach again. an image of you as his personal nurse forms in his mind, and his insides flip at the thought. he wonders if being an executive would give him enough leniency to put you in a little white dress; surely there was one lying around somewhere at headquarters.

“what, did you hit your head too?” he whines when you poke his forehead, hard. “are you feeling better?”

he pouts at you, gaze drifting over your shoulder to a bottle of sake on the counter. it definitely wasn’t there the last time he was here.

“oh〜” he perks, holding the bottle up by its neck, eyes sparkling. “this is fancy! where did you get this from, hm? some secret date i don’t know about?”

“ane-san,” your eyes narrow as he flicks the stove off, breaking the seal on the bottle excitedly. “it was a gift from her after we finished that raid in osaka.”

he sniffs it, then takes a big sip straight from the bottle. it leaves a pleasant sting along the inside of his throat as he swallows.

he sits himself down on your kitchen tiles, pressing his back against the cabinets, cradling the sake in his arms. there’s something angelic about the way your kitchen light haloes around you as he looks up at you from the floor.

he holds the bottle up, sloshing the liquid as he wiggles it back and forth. he pulls it out of your reach each time you try to grab it until you have no choice but to sit next to him, stretching across his lap to take it from him. you follow his lead and take a small sip from the mouth of the bottle, sighing as you sag backward.

“what happened this time, anyway?” you tilt your head toward him lazily, gaze dipping down to his bandaged shoulder.

“someone had bad aim,” he sighs, holding a finger up to his temple. “missed my head. unlucky, right?”

you take a bigger, longer sip.

“i don’t like when you get hurt, you know.”

he’s relieved your head is on his bandaged blindside; he doesn’t know if he wants to see the look on your face right now. he takes the bottle from you, taking a longer sip of his own.

“do you remember when we used to go to the beach?” he can hear the smile in your voice, and it makes his own rise on his cheeks. the two of you would always go after missions, bodies bruised and hair knotted. it was always early enough to watch the sunrise from the shore, eating a breakfast of shared instant ramen and candy stolen from the konbini down the street.

he can only ignore the way the edge of the counter presses into the back of his head for so long, leaning his cheek against your hair and listening to you breathe. he can tell you’re getting tipsy when you start to cling to him, clumsily crawling into his lap. you insist on being the one to rebutton his shirt, swatting his hands away when he tries to do it himself.

“can we go now?” the curl of your lip hits him like an arrow through his heart. “to the beach? please?”

you’re so close again, looking up at him so prettily through your lashes. your hands warm as they rest above his heart, like you could go right through him and steal it for yourself, and he knows he could never possibly say no.

you pick his coat up off the floor before you leave, draping it over his shoulders. you tug it a little tighter around him, nodding to yourself in satisfaction before you grab his hand, intertwining your fingers and tugging him out the door.

the nighttime air is warm and sticky, but it gets cooler the closer you get to the shore. he keeps your smaller body close to his, guard raising as you approach the edge of port mafia territory.

the sand sinks beneath his feet with every step, and he pulls his shoes off by the heel. the waves lap calmly, dancing back and forth with no audience to watch as they tease the shore. he breathes in deep, feeling his lungs expand, inviting the salt and sand inside.

you drop limply onto the ground, laying your head on his shoulder when he sits next to you. it’s quiet, only the distant sound of traffic and the soft splashing of water.

“i wish it could be like this all the time.” you sigh. there’s a determined glint in your sleepy eyes when you look up at him. “let’s run away.”

he smiles, tilting his head toward you until your noses are close enough to brush. “and just where would you take me?”

“i don’t know,” you mumble. “i don’t care as long as i’m with you.”

he always thought he was born with an empty cavity in place of where his heart should be, but around you, it felt so full he could explode. he thinks if he tried to say anything right now, something icky, like the pile of seaweed he can see rotting by the water, would come out of his mouth instead.

a particularly big wave draws your attention away from him, and he frowns when you look away. it only deepens when you stand up and leave him, walking towards the ocean. he watches as you stumble down the wet sand, squealing when the water splashes against your feet. you don’t stop walking until the water is deep enough to cover your shins.

he follows you to the water, hopping on each foot over the big rocks. he’s careful not to slip, crouching on the furthest one out to keep a closer eye on you. he keeps his weight on his ankles, spreading his knees and resting his arms between them. he feels drops of salt water hit his face as the waves crash against the sea stacks, gently blowing the fabric of his jacket.

you turn back and smile at him, holding your hand out. the moon is large and eternal behind you, taking up nearly all the space in the sky and casting a pale blue glow over the dark water. it reflects onto you, illuminating your body in soft light, and he swears he’s never seen someone look so beautiful. you open and close your hand impatiently when he doesn’t move.

“what are you doing over there?” you tilt your head. “c’mere. it’s warm.”

he doesn’t bother to pull up his pants as he slips into the ocean, letting the waves move the fabric as they ebb and flow. he looks down at himself; he nearly blends in with the water, looking black in the night. he almost thinks he’ll dissolve into it like ink and wash away into the sea.

you beam at him as the water laps at your knees. he wiggles his toes into the wet sand and waits to feel the unbridled joy that standing here seems to cause. all he feels is goop between his toes, and he sighs in disappointment. he wants to understand why something like this made you so happy. he wants to feel it too.

“isn’t it nice?” you smile up at him, and he wishes he could bottle it up and keep it for himself. that smile was just for him.

don’t.

he leans closer. he can’t help it; there’s alcohol still warm in his veins, and you’re magnetic.

don’t.

even closer, until he can feel your soft exhale against his face, eyes big. he always thought you were the prettiest up close.

you’ll lose her once you have her.

he freezes. he doesn’t have time to completely change his mind and forget this little slip-up ever happened before you close the gap, pressing your lips against his. you’re just as soft as he imagined, gentle even when you kiss him, like he was something worth handling with care.

you pull back all too soon, looking down at where his legs disappear beneath the water.

“sorry,” you mumble, and the watery way your voice comes out makes something ache deep inside of him. “i…i don’t know why i did that.”

oh.

he didn’t kiss you back.

he didn’t move, he didn’t even breathe. he almost wants to laugh; you really like him too. you, with your stupid smile, making his heart flutter and his stomach hurt when it’s directed toward him. you, letting him sleep in your bed when he breaks into your apartment, holding his blood-soaked hands and letting him get close, despite knowing what he was. you were so, so stupid.

he cups your cheeks with trembling fingers, bringing you back to his mouth. this could be the biggest mistake of his life; the fact he wants you could be your death sentence, but he’s never wanted anything else so badly before in his entire, sad life.

he thought it’d be weird to touch you like this, but it only feels right. when his hands hover over your waist, you press them into your skin, and he can’t help but think they fit perfectly there, like you were made to be held by him.

you wrap your arms around his neck, fingers brushing against his nape, and his knees nearly buckle. he thinks if they did, if he fell into the sand right now and washed out to sea, he’d be content, but you’d never let that happen. he wouldn't even be mad if you resuscitated him; nothing would be better than your lips breathing life back into him. he wonders how mad you’d be if he tried to pull that as an excuse to have another kiss.

he kisses your forehead, your nose, and then tilts your chin up to kiss you properly agai , swallowing the giggle you press against his lips. he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to get enough of you now that he’s had a taste.

“is this really okay?” you’re looking up at him with eyes bigger than the moon, glittering just as bright.

“yeah,” he can’t tell if he’s talking to you or himself. “it’s okay.”

BSD MASTERLIST

taglist . . . @little-miss-chaoss @almond-t0fu @yaeeko @annoyingpainterprincess @callm3-tash1

@janbannan @snowsilver2000 @mochiii-sama @aureatchi @bakananya

@warcelia

#💌 . . . with love mai ⊹ ࣪ ˖#dazai x reader #bsd x reader #dazai x you #bsd x you #dazai osamu x you #dazai osamu x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd imagines #dazai imagines #dazai fluff #bsd fluff

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judes-hoe · 1 day

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Skims ~ JB5

Parrings ~ Jude Bellingham x reader

Summary ~ watching Jude doing the skims shoot…made you crazy you needed him and couldn’t wait!

Warnings ~ p in v(unprotected), creampie(2), a tad bit rough whoopsies, boob play, manhandled😵‍💫, jealousy, praise, teasing, slight pussy slapping, ab licking🤭.

A/N ~gave me a little ick but not enough to not write a fic😵‍💫

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Jude told you he got invited to do a skims shoot, you immediately said you were going with him. He knew you were jealous, just a little, that other women would see him in his underwear.

The morning before you both left for the shoot. Wellll let’s just say you begged Jude to put a load in you…if you know you know.

Sitting in a chair watching the shoot. Jude walking out in only a pair of the grey pair of skim boxers. You could already feel yourself wetting your panties.

Once he got some pictures with the grey boxers, you snuck into his changing room. Waiting for him knowing he’s still got to do the white pair.

Jude walks in to change and is a little scared when he saw you. “Baby what you doing in here.” He asked but is caught off when you walk up to him and kiss his neck and palm him through the underwear. “Need you Jude, please, you look so big in these.” You said desperate. “Baby i already gave you some this morning.” He whispered trying to make sure nobody hears. “Need more, hate when other people see you like this, it’s mine!” You spoke getting a little possessive.

You kneel in front of him and lick his “sweaty” abs, a part of him you were absolutely obsessed with. You run you hands over his chest and abs, kissing all over them.

Before you knew it your pants were pulled to you knees and panties to the side. Jude’s skims off and he’s alined with your entrance. “Such a needy girl.” He hummed in your ear as you leaned against the wall with him behind you. “Need it.” You whimper. “I’ll give you it…just be quite can’t let everyone know how good I make you feel.” He said teasing your entrance, rubbing his cock back and forth slapping it in your clit before pushing in.

You cover your mouth and let out a moan into it. “Need me to fuck the jealousy and possessiveness out of you?” He said slowly pickup up his speed. You nod you head as your eyes roll back a little. He feels so deep inside you.

“Gonna cum inside you, want my cum to leak down your thigh, want everyone to know I’m yours?” He teased you with a smirk. “Please Jude.” You moan softly as your hands are on the wall desperate to grip on something. He pulls out of your and turns you around picking you up, legs immediately going around his waist as he slips back in and uses the wall to help support you.

He fuck up into you now, your hands scratching his shoulder and upper back. “Such a good girl.” He smirks as he starts kissing your neck. Hands slipping under your shirt to squeeze your boobs. “J-Jude!” You moan into his shoulder to muffle it. “Gonna cum for me baby?” He whispered in your ear. “Y-yes!” You cry clutching onto him.

He stops his thrust and goes to the couch sitting down and immediately thrusting up into you at a merciless pace. “C-cumming Jude.” You moan into his neck. “Cum for me I’m right behind you.” He said trying his best to keep his speed up.

You cums round his cock and soon after feel his final thrust up into you. Shoot his load into you filling you up as you pleased. “All my baby need was to be refilled huh?” He teased as he sat there. “Want people to see my cum drop out of you…so they know I’m yours?” He asked kissing your neck softly. “Mhm.” You mumble into his neck, fucked out.

“Last part of the shoot baby…then I’m all yours.” He said as he pulls on the white pair of skims. He had helped you get dressed again also. You walk out a little after him, his cum soaking your panties.

At least this time it’s real sweat and not fake for the shoot….

#jude bellingham #judes-hoe😚#jude bellingham drabble #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham imagine

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oliversrarebooks · 3 days

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The Rare Bookseller Part 55: Lily's Illusion

Previous > Masterlist

tw: blindness, conditioning, hypnosis, body control, abuse, aftermath of hand whump

October 1925

Oliver's sleep was troubled, filled with nightmares where he couldn't move, couldn't talk, couldn't do anything to make his body obey him. Alexander's sire was shoving him below the waves, drowning him while he was helpless. Alexander was being tied up and tortured, and there was nothing Oliver could do for his master but watch, and --

He woke up in a cold sweat, heart pounding too fast. It was pitch black, and despite being wide awake and terrified, he couldn't open his eyes. He couldn't see where he was, couldn't remember, and cold hands came out of nowhere to grip him tight. In a panic, he screamed, kicking his assailant and struggling out of his grasp, thick blankets impeding his escape.

"Oliver!" said a familiar voice. "Oliver, it's only me. You're safe."

His master. That's where he was -- in his master's bedchambers, in his master's arms. He took a deep breath, trying to expel the fear from his body. He was safe, even though he still couldn't open his eyes.

Alexander gently pulled him in closer, and Oliver accepted it, relaxing back onto the bed. "Sorry, sir."

"No need to apologize. I understand completely. My sleep has also been uneasy, although much improved by your presence," he said. "Are you still blinded?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then we should head to Lily's as soon as you're ready," he said. "Although I suppose I'll have to help you dress and wash."

Oliver's face flushed. "Ah, I'm sure I can manage, sir…"

"Manage with your eyes closed? I won't have you falling down the stairs and harming yourself," he said with a tone that brooked no argument. "I'm going to pick you up now, all right?"

And Oliver felt himself being lifted by unnaturally strong arms, floating through the air with only his master as his tether to the world. Alexander seemed to sense his distress, as he hummed a tune under his breath as they walked, one that made Oliver's tense muscles relax. Despite that, the sensation of going down the stairs was still disconcerting.

"If you drop me off at the door to the bathroom, sir, I can take care of my business," said Oliver, hoping to retain some dignity.

"Very well, but I'm going to tend to your wounds afterwards. I need to make sure they're clean."

Oliver thankfully knew the layout of the bathroom well enough to find the toilet and sink, embarrassed at needing so much aid from his master and already quite tired of groping around in the dark. When he was finished, Alexander entered, removing his shirt to look at his back.

"It's terribly bruised, but the few cuts are shallow," Alexander murmured, applying some cool salve. "…You must think I'm a terrible coward for accepting my sire's command to strike you, rather than standing up to him."

"I don't, sir," he said, and it was almost true. "If you had tried, I don't doubt it would have been worse for both of us." He did know that, but in his heart, he wished that his master had protected him.

"There's only one way I can truly protect you," said Alexander, as though he had read Oliver's mind. "I need to kill him. It's easier said than done, of course, but… I will do it this time, or perish trying. I swear it."

Oliver didn't have to wonder what would happen to him in the entirely possible event that his master did perish trying. He'd no doubt end up in the hands of Alexander's sire, perhaps permanently, and the thought almost made him want to plead with Alexander not to try.

Instead, he shoved that unpleasant thought from his mind as best he could. "Will Miss Lily really be able to undo my punishment, sir?"

"I'm sure she will. Her mastery when it comes to controlling the human mind is unparalleled," he said. "And for enduring these latest hardships, I'll also make sure the pantry and icebox are well-stocked with whatever foods you favor. Anything you need."

"I appreciate it, sir."

"And the night after next, my dear friend Fitz arrives from overseas."

With everything that had happened lately, Oliver had nearly forgotten about his master's friend, and he was gripped by a wave of dread at the thought of another visiting vampire. "Is there anything I should know, sir, to better serve your friend?" he said, trying to feel out the situation.

"Oh, you don't need to worry about that. Just be your usual self, and I'm sure he'll just adore you. He's been after me to get a decent thrall for ages, you know," said Alexander. "Just be patient with him, give us space when we ask for it, and -- oh, I'm sure he'll want to drink from you."

The place where the Maestro had dug his fangs into Oliver's neck throbbed with pain. "He will, sir?" said Oliver reluctantly.

"It won't be painful!" his master reassured him quickly. "Fitz is nothing like my sire. His feeding will be as gentle as mine. He won't harm you, I swear it."

"I'm glad of that, sir," said Oliver, who still couldn't quite calm his anxiety.

"It probably won't surprise you to learn that my sire is the reason Fitz fled this city and resides overseas," said Alexander. "When my sire is finally dusted, he'll return to me. He'll come live in the manor with his thrall, and we'll be together at last."

Oliver had never heard his master sound so wistful. "He must be very important to you, sir."

"I suppose you would figure out sooner or later that we're old lovers. Fitz certainly won't make a secret of it."

"Lovers?" He was sure he was unable to hide the surprise on his face. "I didn't realize you had any lovers, sir."

"I confess that it's often a painful subject for me. Less so when I know he's on a boat heading over the Atlantic at this very moment. We share a bond, you see, and I can tell by how miserable he is -- he's always been especially prone to seasickness," said Alexander fondly. "But as much as I'd like to spend the evening pining fruitlessly, we really should get to Lily's as early as we can, lest she head out for the night before we can consult her. I'll guide you to the bedroom and help you put on the clothes I've chosen for you."

Oliver let himself be guided without a fuss, still loathing the fact that he was so helpless that he wasn't even able to choose his own clothes. If Miss Lily couldn't help him, if he had to resign himself to weeks of blindness and lose even more of his remaining autonomy to his master, unable to even indulge in the simple joy of reading, he wasn't sure he could endure it.

Soon enough, they were stepping out into the chill fall evening, Alexander keeping a firm arm around Oliver to guide him through the streets. It was distressing to be able to hear other pedestrians on the sidewalk, to feel the uneven stones under his feet, without being able to open his eyes and see anything. He was entirely reliant on his master to navigate the familiar city, and if Alexander let go, Oliver would be immediately lost and helpless. Thankfully, he clung to Oliver tightly.

"We're here," said Alexander. "There are four steps in front of you - let me help you up them."

Oliver heard a loud knocking, then footsteps and a door creaking open.

"Oh, Lex!" said a familiar voice. "I thought you were my 9pm appointment arriving early. And what on earth happened to your hand?"

"Our sire's handiwork, of course. Are you taking customers today?" asked Alexander. "I hope you have some time to help us. It's a bit of an emergency."

"Come in, come in," said Lily, and Oliver felt himself being gently nudged forward into a very warm room. "You know very well I'll make the time, but I'd rather get started right away. I assume our sire has done something to Oliver?"

Alexander's hands rested on Oliver's shoulders. "He commanded Oliver to keep his eyes closed and now he can't open them. My poor thrall is quite blind."

"Oh, dear," she sighed. "That's a surprisingly mild punishment from him, though. He must have approved of Oliver."

"Oliver comported himself magnificently. The very picture of an ideal thrall," said Alexander, and Oliver's heart felt warm from the praise. "Another reason why he deserves to have his sight restored as soon as possible."

"Let me see." Oliver felt soft hands touch his face. "Oliver, dear, what did he tell you as he was forcing your eyes to close? The exact phrasing, if you can."

Oliver's memories felt muddled and hazy from fear and enthrallment, but he could remember that. "He told me he was placing lead weights on my eyes, sir, that they're too heavy for me to lift, and that he is the only one who can move them."

"All right. I believe I can work with that. Come with me. Lex, you stay out here, and if my 9pm arrives, try to keep her occupied with your sparkling wit and impeccable social skills."

"You can't be serious about that."

"Leaving your manor and socializing sometimes is good for you," she said, as she touched a hand to Oliver's back and pushed him along.

Oliver heard a door close behind him.

"Can you sit down, dear?"

She took his hand and placed it on the seat of a chair, and Oliver sat, sinking into the soft leather. He realized that the chair was awfully familiar -- the twin of the chair in Miss Lily's room at the auction house. The association caused his mind to fog and he couldn't keep from letting out a yawn, already three quarters of the way to trance.

"You remember, don't you?" said Lily, as she ran fingers through his hair and down his cheek. "So obedient, so docile. So sleepy. And so very, very quiet."

Oliver was utterly helpless against the tide of hypnosis gripping his mind. His head lolled backwards as he let out a soft groan. With his eyes already closed tight, it felt natural for sleep to wash over him.

"Quiet, Oliver, you're so quiet. You're sinking back down under my power now. You're completely safe with me. Safe for you to fall asleep, fall deep asleep. You're so drowsy, aren't you? A quiet, docile boy like you just wants to sleep and listen…"

She kept murmuring to him, but Oliver was already out like a light, quiet and sleepy and dreaming. After the terror of the previous night, it was so good to sleep so soundly, comfortable and content. Oliver felt like he could float in this pleasant dream forever.

That is, until he heard footsteps. Footsteps which did not belong to Lily or his master. Footsteps that were oddly light and perfectly in rhythm.

No, it couldn't be. That was impossible. There was no way that he was here --

But he could feel it already, the hold over his body, the feeling that his flesh and bones no longer belonged to him. He wasn't being manipulated, not yet, but he could sense it all around. He was here and in control, and Oliver could barely think through the numbing terror that gripped him.

"Wake up," said the musical voice of Alexander's sire, followed by a crisp snap. "I don't recall allowing you to sleep."

"I'm sorry, sir! I didn't mean to fall asleep." Oliver felt himself forced out of the chair and into a kneel, his back ramrod straight and his sweating hands clasped behind him. He couldn't budge an inch, and although he still couldn't open his eyes, he could feel that icy gaze boring into him.

"I don't understand why you think that disobedience out of poor self control is better than disobedience on purpose. Disobedience is disobedience."

"Yes, sir," said Oliver, trembling, waiting for a slap across his still tender cheek.

"I suppose, though, if you're to have any use as a servant, you'll need to have your eyes open, lest I have to puppet your wretched form everywhere," he said. "I will remove the weights on your eyes, and you will be appropriately grateful, and then you will serve me however I please."

Oliver swallowed nervously, dreading what the Maestro had in store for him. "Thank you very much for allowing me to serve you, sir."

"I will lift the heavy weight off each of your eyelids," he said, and Oliver felt something brush over his eyes, "and then you will graciously be allowed to open them on your own."

Despite being so eager to be cured earlier, Oliver was reluctant to open his eyes now, not wanting to face Alexander's sire once again, not understanding how he came to be here. But he had no choice. He opened his eyes…

…and there was Miss Lily standing before him.

He looked around in a panic. The Maestro was nowhere to be found, a phantom conjured by his own imagination and Miss Lily's mesmerism. "You…"

"He was the only one who could remove the command. I had to make your mind believe that I was him," she said. "I'm sorry for giving you such a fright, but it was the easiest way to undo what was done."

Oliver's heart was still pounding, unable to calm. "Yes, sir… thank you…"

"Poor dear, you're trembling like a leaf. Let me soothe you before sending you back to your master," she said. "Quiet now, Oliver. Quiet your frightened mind. You're safe here. It's only me."

"It's only you, sir…" said Oliver, sinking back into a merciful daze.

"That's right, and I take such good care of you, don't I?" she said with a smile. "You can relax now. Deep breaths, Oliver dear, deep breaths. Let all that tension out. Let that fear fade away. Let your mind be so, so quiet."

Oliver followed her instructions, taking deep breaths, and soon he did feel calmer, the terror of the hypnotic illusion fading. It was only a dream, one which could fade away into the obedient quiet of his enthralled mind.

"Lex is always singing your praises when he talks to me, you know," said Lily. "You're an absolute natural at serving a vampire, just as I knew you would be. Doesn't it make you feel good to serve Lex?"

It was both question and command, reinforcing his conditioning, and Oliver fell into it easily. "I very much enjoy serving Lex, sir."

"Of course you do, sweet boy. You've been so brave, and you deserve to feel good." She patted Oliver on the head one last time. "Now, if you're feeling better, why don't I return you to your master?"

"Yes, sir," said Oliver, feeling like a weight had been lifted from more than his eyes.

They left the stark conditioning room and stepped out into Miss Lily's home, which was done up very differently from Alexander's, filled with bright colors, fussy details, and homespun knick-knacks. A fat black cat ran up to Miss Lily and began winding around her ankles, and she scooped it up and gave it a kiss on the head. "This is Luna," she said. "Her brother Sunny is probably off on Miriam's lap."

"Hello, Luna," said Oliver, giving her a scritch.

As they walked down the hallway, Oliver could hear a steady stream of excited patter. "…and then I told him, is that really an appropriate place to take a lady on a date? And you know what he said? He said, well, they hardly ever hold horse racing at night, so I thought you'd like to see it. And I said, I can't see a blessed thing even with a vampire's eyesight. And then --"

They entered the parlor, where Alexander was sitting on a frilly gingham couch and nodding politely to everything a young woman was saying. She was done up in the latest fashions, and had a scrawny-looking man on a leash, kneeling at her feet. He looked at Oliver with fear in his eyes, pleading, as though there were anything Oliver could do.

"Ah, you had an appointment for 9pm, I believe?" said Miss Lily to the woman. "I appreciate your patience. I had an emergency job, but I'm free to take your thrall to the conditioning room now."

"Oh, it's no trouble at all!" she chirped. "I've been having a lovely time with Lord Alexander here." She stood up and handed the man's leash over to Miss Lily. "Just a thorough reconditioning for obedience and contentment, please. The place I bought him from did such an awful job -- you can see how distressed he is, and you should see the faces he pulls when it's time to feed. He's already escaped twice and I had to waste so much time tracking him."

"Of course, it's my pleasure," she said.

"No…" The thrall was backing away from Miss Lily, practically choking himself with his own leash. "No, please…"

Miss Lily knelt down and pet his head like one would a dog. "It's all right, dear, you'll see. Why don't you just relax? Just relax. Calm and peaceful, okay? I'm not gong to hurt you. Everything's going to be okay."

Oliver watched in fascination as the fear bled away from the thrall's expression, his eyes fixed on Miss Lily's and becoming glassy and dazed. He couldn't help but wonder if he wore a similar expression when he was under Miss Lily's spell.

"That's a good dear. So relaxed and at ease," she cooed. "You're going to feel so much better after you've had a session with me, I promise."

The thrall glanced up at Oliver, as if looking for some kind of confirmation. Oliver remembered how terrified he was the first time he had gone in for conditioning. "She's right," he said with a smile. "It's not scary at all, it's just like having a really good sleep, and you'll feel great afterwards."

"See?" said Miss Lily. "There's nothing to be scared of." She turned to Lex. "Sorry I can't stay around and chat, but I should get started on this session."

"Of course. We'll take our leave, and call on you another night," he said. "Oh, and Lily, before I go -- are you free on Friday night? Fitz will be in town, and I was hoping we could all go to the Tiger's Eye."

"Ooh, I wouldn't miss it," she said. She stood and ruffled Oliver's hair. "You'll be a good boy for our dear friend Fitz, won't you?"

"Yes, Miss Lily."

"Then I'll see you two soon enough, I'm sure. Have a good evening!"

"Are you feeling better?" Alexander asked as they stepped back out into the cool night air. "You're certainly looking much better."

"Yes, much better, sir. Thank you very much for taking me to Miss Lily," Oliver said. Now that he could see once again, he could see that the night was clear, the sky filled with a thousand brilliant stars. "Do you think we could go for a walk before returning home, sir? I could use the fresh air."

"I think that's a splendid idea," said Alexander, wrapping his arm around Oliver's once more.

Oliver saw the thick wad of bandages wrapped around his master's hand, and quite against his will he remembered the sickening smell of burnt flesh in the air. "Sir, your hand…"

"I've told you before that it will heal, but I appreciate your concern for me," said his master with a warm smile. "Your health and company is all the balm I need to soothe my pains tonight."

Thanks to Miss Lily, he was so obedient, so eager to please. "I'm glad that I can be helpful to you, sir."

"Always, Oliver. Don't doubt it for a minute."

Previous > Masterlist

I always enjoy writing Lily! Next week, the beginning of a three-parter involving a masquerade ball and Fitz's very impulsive decisions.

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin

@whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist

@xx-adam-xx @ivycloak @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10 @pokemaniacgemini

@sowhumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada

@typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia

@a-formless-entity @gobbo-king @writinggremlin @the-agency-archives @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

@enigmawriteswhump @foresttheblep @bottlecapreader @whump-on-a-string @whumpinthepot

@cinnamoncandycanes @avvail-whumps @tauntedoctopuses @secret-vampkissers-soiree @whatamidoingherehelpme

@strawbearydreams @ghost-whump @tippytappytyping @natthebatt @fire-bugg14

@fuckcapitalismasshole

#whump #whump writing #vampire whump #vampire whumper #mind control #hypnosis #vampire #rare bookseller #oliver #alexander #lily #maestro

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brown-little-robin · 1 month

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*frothing at the mouth* hey did you guys know that. that the stage play of mob psycho 100 is incredible. like it's not just a cheesy production it genuinely is just as carefully-thought-out as an adaptation of the manga as the show was. did you know it makes Teru even more human than he already was. did you know that the way they do Dimple is actually incredibly believable. I died laughing at the physical comedy bits about nine times. ueah. stageplay

HELLO

#SHOUTS INTO THE VOID #mob-blogging #I am. Genuinely Astonished #I thought this would be silly #and don't get me wrong. it IS silly. but the acting is incredible the choreography great the set design and tech work *stellar*#like. wow #genuinely one of the best plays I've seen #AND THEY GOT MOB'S ACTUAL JAPANESE VOICE ACTOR????? AND WHAT'S MORE HE *SLAYS THE ROLE*???????#?!?!?!?!?!?!?!#I sweated right through my shirt watching this #I was that physiologically immersed

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fairy-angel222 · 4 months

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𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

—gojo’s single and geto’s a good friend. good friends share everything.. including girlfriends

pairing: gojo x fem! reader x geto

content: crack, smut, threesome, praise, cum eating (gojo), pussy eating, blowjobs, cream pie, throat bulge, throat fucking, tag team, playful banter, squirting

Geto thinks he’s a great friend. Being willing to share his precious girlfriend with his best friend. He’s seen the way Gojo looks at you. And he’s not mad, no, he’s quite happy. It makes using you as a gift so much easier— especially when he knows you get wet at just the thought of a threesome with the white haired man.

“I am not lonely. I could go get a quick fuck right now if i wanted too.” Gojo defended, taking another gulp of the beer in his hand as he leaned back into the couch.

“Hmm, i smell lies, you’re very lonely this season.” you teased, giggling softly when Gojo glared at you with the flip of his middle finger. You gasped dramatically, turning to Geto with a pout, “Baby your friend just flipped me off.”

Geto simply smiled at you with the shake of his head, taking a quick swig of his drink before he was wrapping his arm around your shoulders. Pulling you into him and placing an especially wet kiss onto your head. “Don’t disrespect my girl bro.” He joked along, Gojo only scoffing before flipping him off too. “I’m being targeted by weirdos. Great.”

“Weirdos who aren’t single. Can’t relate now can you?” you retorted with a grin. Gojo finally letting out a chuckle, “Ya got me there.” downing the remaining contents of the bottle. “I’m gonna get another one, you guys want any?” he questioned, standing up to head to the kitchen.

“Oo, yes please.” you piped in cheerily, Geto’s head snapping towards you with an eyebrow raised. “Uh, no. She’ll just have a coke or something. But i’ll take one.” Geto corrected.

Gojo nodded, making his way past the dining area and into the kitchen to open the fridge.

Geto winced lightly when you pinched his side. “Why can’t i have one?” you whined. Geto pinching your cheeks with a faux frown, “because your alcohol tolerance is too damn low.” You simply huffed, fiddling absentmindedly with the hem of your boyfriend’s sweater.

“So, is it still happening?” you questioned in a whisper, a smirk forming on your boyfriend’s face as he brought the bottle to his lips to empty it out. “Mhm.”

Gojo came strolling back into the room with two opened drinks and a cherry flavored soft drink. And you fought the urge to roll your eyes when he handed one bottle to Geto and the red colored drink to you. A smile on his face as he bit back his teasing words about Geto not letting you drink alcohol.

Geto cleared his throat, setting down the drink and placing his hand on your thigh. Squeezing as he travelled it higher and higher, his breath hot on your ear when he leaned in. “That’s your queue baby.”

Your face heated up, watching as Gojo raised an eyebrow across from you, taking a swig at his drink after mumbling “fucking weirdos i swear.”

Getting off your seat, you bit at your lip as you looked back at Geto. Your boyfriend only giving you a reassuring nod before his drink was at his lips, watching as you almost shyly walked up to Gojo.

Sitting yourself on his lap with practically no warning making the man’s eyes widen. “What are you-” being cut off by your lips on his, your ass lightly grinding on his cock as you gripped his shirt. Gojo’s eyes met Geto’s in panic, the latter simply tilting his head, “Better enjoy it while you can.”

Gojo groaned, your hands slipping under his shirt to run your nails over his hard abs. Slowly bringing them down until you stopped at the bulge in his sweats, groping it through the fabric before smiling as you pulled away. “You’re already hard?” you giggled.

“Shut up.” His face flushing red as you got off of his lap, situating yourself on your knees between his legs. Your hands working to pull his pants down mid thigh, your head in his crotch as you licked a strike along his cock through his underwear. Looking up at him through your lashes before freeing him from the thin black fabric

Gojo nearly choked on his spit, watching as you ran your thumb over his tip. Collecting glistening precum before using it to stroke him, circling your wrist while you moved it up and down. “S-shit.”

Your eyes met his cock with a hard swallow at the length. Taking in a breath before sucking him into your mouth. Swirling your tongue around his leaking tip then taking him in deeper. Bobbing your head up and down as your drool coated his veiny skin.

You could hear Geto standing up behind you, reaching your kneeling frame in two large steps before his hand was stroking your hair. “She’s good ain’t she?”

Gojo only letting out a cracked moan as he nodded. Geto’s hand suddenly grabbing hold of your hair to quicken the pace of your mouth. “But trust me, she can be better.” Roughly pushing you to take Gojo down your throat before pulling you back up again. Repeating the process as you slobbered onto the man’s dick with muffled moans.

Your eyes pooled with water each time your boyfriend forced you to take his best friend all the way. Gojo’s cock bulging in your throat as your nose pressed at his base. “See that?” Geto hummed.

Gojo’s mouth hung open in breathy grunts as he began thrusting his hips upwards. Head falling back onto the back of the couch with his breathing speeding up. Basking in the way his best friend used your warm mouth to fuck his twitching cock. “F-fucking hell— ahh.”

“Good girl” Geto dragged out. “gonna make him cum already.” he praised, “Wonder how long it has been since he’s felt a pretty girl’s lips on his cock.”

Gojo grunted, “f-fuck o-off, shit—” a loud groan sounding in his throat when he began to spill into your mouth. His body shuddering when you continued to suck on his tip while maintaining eye contact. His cock throbbing as the last bits of cum spurted onto your tongue.

“Now what do you do?” Geto asked with a smirk, watching you swallow the thick substance before glancing between the both of them with a smile. “That’s my girl.”

Gojo panted with heavy breaths, receiving a pat on his shoulder from the black haired man. “That’s not even the half of it.”

It wasn’t long until you found yourself on your hands and knees. Geto’s cock down your throat as Gojo fucked into you from behind. “Is this what you like baby?” your boyfriend groaned, Gojo’s rough thrusts effectively rocking your mouth on and off of Geto’s cock. “Showing this lone fucker how good your pussy feels?” Gojo being too lost in how deep you were sucking him in to even respond.

You mewled, clenching down on Gojo’s cock as he hammered into your g spot. His thick length easily sliding in and out your tightness.

Gojo’s hand groped at the flesh of your ass, the sound of his hips slamming onto your flesh only getting louder when he sped up his pace. Allowing his tip to graze your gummy walls with force. “Haah- think this might just be the best pussy i’ve ever had.”

“Hear that baby? He loves that perfect pussy of yours.” Geto breathed, his eyes closing as he used his hand to guide your head faster. “Shit. Swear that mouth of yours is made of gold.”

You let out a muffled cry when you felt a coil build in your stomach. Your body still being jerked between the two men as you drooled onto your boyfriend’s cock. Your back arching when Gojo leaned onto you, his chest against your back as he brought his hand down to rub your clit. Your loud mewl sending vibrations through Geto’s dick.

Gojo groaned into your ear. “You feel so good pretty girl. Wish i could fuck into this pussy forever.” His thrusts getting sloppy as he moaned noisily into your neck, his eyes fixed on the way your swollen lips had stretched to fit his best friend’s girth. “O-oh shit— clenching down on me so tight.” he rasped into your skin, voice cracking into a higher pitch at the feeling of your warmth ready to milk him dry.

Geto pulled you off his cock with a grin, watching as you whimpered before taking in a well needed breath, your chest rising and falling as your eyes lost their focus. “Nnhg— Suguru, ah- Satoru, ‘m close,” you cried out, feeling yourself getting closer as Gojo continued to rub small circles on your sensitive bud, his cock hitting deep inside you with each movement

“Yeah baby? Gonna show him just how good he made you feel?” Geto husked, pulling your head back onto him before you could even nod in response, using your mouth as a wet flesh light to get him off the edge.

Gojo groaned loudly, his thrusts hard and mean as they lost their speed. Rolling his hips desperately into yours to chase his release. “Shit, can i cum in ya, pretty?”

You were only able to let out an incoherent babble, feeling the coil in your stomach painfully close to snapping.

“Don’t push it.” Geto warned, your chin getting messy as he lazily fucked your face, his head falling back with a string of deep curses.

“Selfish prick.”

“You’re fucking her aren’t you?”

Your body shook as you came, whimpering with a broken cry around Geto’s cock as your pussy spasmed. Eyes rolling back and your head fuzzy as you gushed messily. The force of your orgasm threatening to make Gojo’s cock slip out.

“There you go baby.” Geto started, Gojo finishing his words as he slowed his movements on your clit, “That’s it.”

Both men breathed heavily as their movements came to a halt. Geto holding your face down on his cock to spurt ropes of his cum down your throat.

“Suguru- fuck, please let me cum in her. Tight pussy doesn’t want to let me go.” Gojo moaned out, pleading blue eyes looking up to your boyfriend.

“You do that and you’re gonna lick it all out.” Geto growled out, tapping his cock onto your tongue a few times before he was pulling out. Watching as you moaned softly when his cum slid down your throat.

Gojo’s lips parted as his cock ached for a release. Deciding to take his chance at burying himself inside you, his twitching cock pumping thick ropes of cum into you. Looking up to meet your boyfriend’s fake grin.

“Baby, lay down, and you, better get every fucking drop outta her.”

Gojo pervertedly smiling as he willingly crawled in between your legs. Lapping at your sopping folds and swirling his tongue around your clit as you moaned and mewled into the air.

Your fingers tangling in white strands as his tongue dipped into your hole, sucking a mixture of your juices and his cum into his mouth with a groan.

Geto let out a short laugh in amusement, “So this is what a lack of pussy does to a guy.” Watching as Gojo licked you clean, bringing you to another squirting orgasm in the process.

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the-californicationist · 5 months

Text

he opens the mail

Captain Price opens a package, thinking it’s intel, but it’s a sex pollen. The only cure? Your pussy, apparently.

Warning: sex pollen tropes, extremely dubious consent, attempt at satire?, angry john price

“We’re never going to make this deadline. Laswell’s gonna kill me,” you complained, burying your head in the pile of envelopes and packages strewn over your desk.

“Did this to yourself, lass. Shoulda been keepin’ up with intel duty. Wee bit at a time, ‘s what I say,” Soap patted you on the shoulder, feigning pity.

You spent hours combing through the documents, and by the time everyone had gone to bed, your fingers were covered in paper cuts, and your vision was blurry from squinting at the poorly scrawled Cyrillic words.

You thought you were alone, and as you stood up to stretch and refill your coffee mug, Captain Price opened up the office door, scaring you half to death.

“Oh, hey Corporal,” he smiled and then furrowed his brow, “What are you still doing here?”

You sighed, pointing to the piles of documents,

“Laswell’s intel backlog. I’m the only one with a Level 3 linguistics cert for Russian, so here I am. Gonna be an all-nighter.”

He closed the door and sat down across from your seat, digging into the pile,

“I’m Level 3. Let’s finish it.”

“Captain, you don’t have to do that. I’m sure you’ve got more important things…”

Price shook his head, taking off his hat and hanging it on the chair back,

“Nah, tha’s alright, love. I’ll help ya. Get us a tea, yeah?”

You knew how he took his tea, and you hated that you did. Secretly, you were obsessed with him. He was always around, smelling like balsam wood and tobacco, looking like a gladiator, huge and capable in the most masculine way. It was hard to concentrate when he was nearby. Now that he had offered to help, you had to grin and bear it.

You worked together for a while, chatting, even laughing. It was nice. You had so much in common, the conversation flowed easily, and you found yourself much more at ease. Finally, three packages remained. You opened the first one and found little more than phone records for a local library. Unhelpful to say the least. Price opened a water bill, and he recognized the address of a recent Konni base location. Any intel at this point felt like a celebration. Then, the final box.

“Go on then. Show us the ending,” he smiled, handing it to you.

“Couldn’t take the joy of ripping up the last letter, Captain. Be my guest,” you smiled.

He chuckled, tearing into the envelope. In a flash, bright pink powder sprayed him directly in the eyes, and he writhed in pain, pinching them shut, his whole body going stiff.

“Fuck me!” He shouted.

“Hang on,” you ran over to the sink in the kitchenette, “Here’s some water. Get that shit out of your eyes.”

“Don’t,” he moved away from you like you were on fire, “Don’t touch me. Might be contagious.”

Your chest was rising and falling with your labored breathing, and you were immediately worried. You reached for your phone and called Laswell.

“Laswell, Price got anthraxed by one of the intel letters. What do you want us to do?”

She gasped,

“What? Shit. I’m on my way.”

She hung up on you. You watched Price slowly try to open his eyes. They were stained hot pink from the powder.

“You alright?” You asked him.

“Yeah, love,” he sighed, “Doesn’t hurt anymore. Feeling strange though. Laswell said she’s coming?”

You nodded,

“Yeah, just in case.”

He nodded, running his hand along the inside of his collar. The captain was sweaty and a little pale.

“Captain, are you okay?”

“Mmm, no,” he shook his head, “Something’s not right, love.”

He stood and went to the sink, washing as much of the powder off as he could. You moved away from him and stationed yourself across the room, praying for Laswell to hurry.

Price was in a bad way. He took off his shirt, and he was still dripping with beads of sweat. You tried not to stare, but his temperature wasn’t the only thing heating up. His huge cock was making a prominent tent in his pants, but he was in too much pain to bother hiding it. You felt yourself blushing, and you willed yourself to pull it together.

“…fuckin’ hell,” his hand went to his crotch to squeeze his length, trying to find some relief, “Sorry, love.”

“It’s okay,” you said politely, trying to breathe normally, but feeling the slick rush melt between your legs.

“It’s makin’ me…feel…bloody hell. I can’t hold it off. Can…can you…? No! No, what the fuck am I sayin’? No,” he shook his head, rubbing his hands down his face, hot and very bothered.

You inched closer to him,

“If I haven’t been affected yet, I’m sure it’s okay. How should I help you?”

“No! No, stay back. I’m not…I can’t think straight. My mind’s got one thing on it,” he shoved his hands beyond his zipper and began to jerk himself off, his dick making lurid noises with his hand.

You hated seeing him so helpless. You moved to his side,

“Cap, it’s okay. Let me help you.”

His hand was around your throat in milliseconds. Price shoved you against the wall and began to kiss your mouth, furiously laving his tongue against yours.

“No, no, no,” he whispered through his kisses, not bothering to pull away as he spoke his lamentations.

You made the mistake of putting your hands on his chest to steady yourself. He moaned, trembling beneath your touch,

“Ahh, careful.”

“Sorry,” you pulled your hands away, still trapped in his firm grip around your neck, “did I hurt you?”

“No, doesn’t hurt.”

He said it in a way that darkly implied your touch was igniting a different kind of fire. You put your hands back where they were, and his eyes shot open, piercing through yours with a lustful rage. Unexpectedly, he ripped off your shirt and lay you down on the black leather couch in the corner of the office. He crushed you with his weight, kissing you deeply.

Then, your phone rang. He didn’t allow you to pause, so it went to voicemail. It rang again. You were getting just as hot as he was, and you weren’t that interested in who was looking for you in the middle of the night. Until, however, the door to the office burst wide open and Laswell and Gaz burst through it.

Price snarled. You’d never heard a man make that noise before. Laswell put her hands on her hips while Gaz tried to shield his face in shock. Laswell rubbed her forehead, frustrated,

“Are his eyes pink, Corporal?”

You escaped his jaws for a moment,

“Yeah, why?”

“It’s a sex drug. Forces the user to fornicate as it is only passed through the body in seminal fluid, dissolving in the heat of another person’s body. Are you volunteering here? What happened?”

Her tone was so matter of fact, it was a little humorous, if Price’s length wasn’t rutting against you in earnest, you might've laughed. You tried to explain as much as he would allow,

“Got too close… just… happened. How…” you moaned as Price pulled down the strap of your bra and helped himself to your nipple, “How did you know?”

She sighed, typing something into her datapad,

“Checked the incident log from this afternoon. Four more cases of this have popped up in intel collections. Gonna have to screen for it next time.”

She turned to walk out of the office with Gaz, and you called after her,

“Hey, wait! How long does it - oh, fuck… how long does it last?”

Laswell had the audacity to smirk at you, raising her eyebrows and cutting her eyes at Price’s swollen cock, lolling out of his pants, scraping itself against you.

“Eight hours. Looks like you’re in for a rough night, Corporal. Maybe next time you’ll be more careful.”

Part 2

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #captain john price #cod #john price #captain price #captain price x reader #captain price x you #captain john price smut #captain john price x reader #john price x reader #afab reader #Female reader #x female reader

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astonmartinii · 6 months

Text

rookie love | oscar piastri social media au

pairing: oscar piastri x hamilton!reader

sure it's a rookie mistake to lose it in a corner, but is it a rookie mistake to fall in love with lewis hamilton's younger sister?

request from the lovely @starfriuts

MASTERLIST | BUY ME A KO-FI?

liked by lewishamilton, oscarpiastri and 1,324,772 others

tagged: oscarpiastri, yourusername & logansargeant

f1: welcome the rookie class of 2023 !! 2021 f2 champion oscar piastri will race for mclaren, 2022 f2 champion y/n hamilton will be racing for aston martin and 2022 f2 runner up logan sargeant will be racing for williams!

view all comments

user1: MY prema girlies

user2: 2019 rookies i am so sorry but there's a new favourite in town

yourusername: two hamiltons on the grid i know that's right 💅 👯‍♀️

lewishamilton: they hate us cause they ain't us

yourusername: they can't handle the sass

lewishamilton: neither can the fia

yourusername: ... yeah i've been briefed :(

user3: okay, walk with me. if y/n does all of grill the grid, lewis might do the secret santa again

user4: hopes and prayers

fernandoalo_oficial: i'm teammates with a rookie hamilton, i think i've seen this film before

yourusername: i lived through that old man, don't think i won't use your own tricks on you

fernandoalo_oficial: well there's no dna test necessary here

yourusername: the slay is hereditary, but clearly skipped your generation

fernandoalo_oficial: HEY

oscarpiastri: get her jade

fernandoalo_oficial: EY?

user5: the way the grid are not ready for how ride or die y/n and oscar are for each other

user6: bro just quoted COCO MONTRESE for her i am so ready

logansargeant: dude we're getting the band back together

oscarpiastri: f1 boyband have nothing on us

yourusername: xnda who?

lewishamilton: :/

yourusername: no one is safe sorry lew @charles_leclerc you're next piano boy

charles_leclerc: WHAT

user7: i know the aston martin pr department sweating buckets with both fernando and y/n

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, lewishamilton and 1,332,551 others

yourusername: the hamilton name comes with the wardrobe

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user8: finally lewis has some competition

user9: if there's something a hamilton is going to do it's going to be wearing a monochromatic outfit.

lewishamilton: was the third photo really necessary?

yourusername: yes!

lewishamilton: you're so corny

yourusername: i know this man ain't speaking.... DIGITAL FOOTPRINT

lewishamilton: girl. i've read your diary and your code names don't mean SHIT

yourusername: YOU WHAT?

lewishamilton: got bored when you had a work call ?

yourusername: come to aston's hospitality i got something to show you

lewishamilton: just text me

yourusername: no. spoiler: it's my FOOT up your ASS

user10: so i thought the tussles would be between fernando and y/n not y/n and lewis

georgerussell63: this is just how they are, they'll be besties again in like two minutes

oscarpiastri: why is my outfit not on here you said i slayed :(

yourusername: you did slay !!

landonorris: he literally wore a team shirt and chinos

yourusername: yes but on the oscar scale that is a slay

oscarpiastri: exactly

landonorris: ok?

yourusername: watch your tone mr. norris, you're being awfully loud for a ripped skinny jeans owner 🤨

landonorris: ????

oscarpiastri: :)

user11: okay i think i get the whole ride or die thing now

logansargeant: believe me it gets worse

lewishamilton

liked by oscarpiastri, yourusername and 1,844,902 others

tagged: yourusername

lewishamilton: bucket list moment ticked off to share a podium in f1 with my baby sister !!

view all comments

user14: two hamiltons in f1 and on the podium before gta 6

user15: we got two hamiltons on the podium but still can't escape a max win

yourusername: thank you for not posting the picture of me bawling my eyes out

lewishamilton: i thought i'd be nice, just this once. i'm proud of you

yourusername: thank youuuuuuuuuuuuu. insane to be on the podium with my biggest idol

maxverstappen1: y/n that's very kind of you

lewishamilton: really?

yourusername: 😭 😭 😭 😭 😭 😭 😭

maxverstappen1: saw the opportunity and had to go for it

yourusername: i respect that

lewishamilton: but i am your biggest idol right?

yourusername: yes.

user16: max really out here like i will make a double hamilton podium about me LOL

oscarpiastri: that's my best friend GO BEST FRIEND

yourusername: oscar piastri podium coming soon @mclaren get ur shit together

oscarpiastri: PR KNOW SHE DOESN'T MEAN THAT

yourusername: no i mean every word i wanna be on the podium with oscar :(

oscarpiastri: slumber party ?

yourusername: i'll be there @logansargeant u coming?

logansargeant: i don't really feel like third wheeling

this comment was deleted

logansargeant: if you're buying the room service - yeah

user17: LOGAN WE SAW THAT

user18: y/n x oscar truthers we have some more evidence for the board

user19: gets first woman in f1 on the podium... immediately assumes she’s in a relationship with another driver

user20: i see where you're coming from but watch the prema videos and tell me there's no tension there

user21: idk if oscar can handle all of that ...

user22: i have faith in my goofy lil guy

liked by yourusername

user22: WHAT

oscarpiastri

liked by landonorris, yourusername and 612,094 others

tagged: yourusername

oscarpiastri: pookie was on the podium

view all comments

user23: okay you shipper bitches may have had a point...

yourusername: when pookie calls you pookie you know it's real

fernandoalo_oficial: i have never felt older than when i listen to you and oscar talk for more than five minutes

yourusername: the girls who get it, get it

oscarpiastri: and the girls who don't.... well

fernandoalo_oficial: i am a 42 year old man

yourusername: and it shows

oscarpiastri: ... oop

user24: oh they annoying... KEEP GOING

lewishamilton: so this is what you left the after party for?

yourusername: yeah and what about it?

lewishamilton: okay like maybe i need to separate you and oscar cause why are you eating me up

yourusername: i'm me but oscar is a victim of the sassy man apocalypse

oscarpiastri: guilty as charged (i learnt everything from your sister)

user25: you guys acting like oscar being like this is a surprise ... we didn't all see him scalp alpine last summer?

user26: the way in my head him and y/n wrote that tweet together and were giggling the whole time

yourusername: we can neither confirm or deny

user27: that's confirmation to me

logansargeant: when will the logan sargeant erasure end?

yourusername: when you serve as much as me?

logansargeant: i am TRYING

yourusername: plus this is an appreciation post for me, stop trying to steal opportunities from women

logansargent: HUH?

oscarpiastri: so disappointing from you logan...

logansargeant: i'm so done with you two

yourusername

liked by lewishamilton, oscarpiastri and 1,309,562 others

yourusername: summer break is annoying i wanna go racing again

view all comments

user31: WHO IS THAT MAN?

user32: my brain (psychosis) tells me it is oscar

user33: i'll believe you

lewishamilton: HOW DARE YOU SOFT LAUNCH WITHOUT TELLING ME

yourusername: girl. sort the tone and i'll call you

lewishamilton: do you think i am dumb? i know exactly who that is, i just need the confirmation so i can beat his ass

yourusername: why would i tell you if you're gonna beat his ass?

lewishamilton: JUST TELL ME

yourusername: you'll have to find me to do that, see you in zandvoort xxx

user34: i think lewis is having brocedes flashbacks

user35: i know bro is PACING

fernandoalo_oficial: you wanna give me a tow in qualifying?

yourusername: why would i do that old man?

fernandoalo_oficial: @lewishamilton i know.

lewishamilton: ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? FERNANDO KNOWS?

yourusername: NOT ON PURPOSE HE'S JUST NOSEY AND LIKES TO READ MY TEXTS OVER MY SHOULDER

fernandoalo_oficial: guilty 💅

yourusername: fine. one tow.

fernandoalo_oficial: thanks girly

user36: we have to study the girlypopification of fernando since being teammates with y/n

oscarpiastri: it's missing pookie hours

yourusername: i am having separation anxiety

user37: these hoes think we don't know 😂

user38: they think they're throwing us on their scent ... YALL NOT SUBTLE

oscarpiastri

liked by landonorris, yourusername and 802,778 others

oscarpiastri: does this count as a win?

view all comments

user39: sorry max we got an oscar win we don't care about your championship win

yourusername: LET'S FUCKING GO POOKIE

oscarpiastri: slumber party is gonna eat i fear (why do we have to race tomorrow?)

yourusername: you know who else ate? YOU TODAY

oscarpiastri: hehehehe i guess i did

yourusername: no i am so fucking proud of you

oscarpiastri: love you

yourusername: luv you too

user40: okay so they're just playing with our feelings now?

landonorris: proud of you bro (please turn down the beyonce)

oscarpiastri: don't make me enter my lemonade era

landonorris: are you threatening me with a brocedes?

oscarpiastri: maybe?

yourusername: lmao watch your ass lando, i gave him the play-by-play i was in the brocedes trenches

lewishamilton: 1. happy for you oscar 2. SHUT THE FUCK UP

oscarpiastri: oops?

yourusername: sorry lewis, we'll stop joking about britney if you finally call him

nicorosberg: stop calling me that

lewishamilton: why are you here?

nicorosberg: just observing...

user41: poor lewis having his trauma used as a joke 😭

logansargeant: i'm defo skipping this slumber party

user42: you want to elaborate?

logansargeant: no. i don't think i will

user43: JUST SPILL

yourusername

liked by lewishamilton, oscarpiastri and 1,903,448 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

yourusername: got my first win, me and my boyfriend are better than you x

view all comments

user44: I FUCKING KNEW IT

user45: i'm gonna need all the bitches who came for me for shipping them so give me my flowers

oscarpiastri: finally. you're too cute not to kiss all the time

yourusername: then hurry up and come here

oscarpiastri: gladly

user46: no i think he actually went, these bitches usually never shut the fuck up

lewishamilton: ...

georgerussell63: oscar RUN THE BREATHING TECHNIQUES AREN'T WORKING

alexalbon: no he's actually going to scrap you RUN FOR YOUR LIFE

landonorris: those dumbasses don't know what is about to hit them

yourusername: why is logan texting me 911 who is being dramatic

yourusername: wait

yourusername: is that him already

georgerussell63: yes for such a short man he's surprisingly fast

lewishamilton: OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR

yourusername: no!

lewishamilton: I JUST WANNA TALK

oscarpiastri: your tone is scaring me

yourusername: OSCAR NO

lewishamilton: OPEN THE DOOR

user47: it's been 20 mins, can we have an update

oscarpiastri: i am alive!

lewishamilton: regardless of what just happened, i am so proud of you y/n !!

yourusername: i love you big brother :))))))

lewishamilton: you're such an inspiration, here's to many more!

user48: lewis being all supportive now after he's scrapped oscar?

lewishamilton: i didn't fight him, he had 30 seconds to convince me not to kill him

oscarpiastri: i did very well :)

lewishamilton: sure

yourusername: you did great babe

oscarpiastri: :)

oscarpiastri

liked by logansargeant, yourusername and 1,099,457 others

tagged: yourusername

oscarpiastri: please don't put me into the barriers lewis, i love your sister

view all comments

user51: i think it's safe to say that the 2023 rookies have out done the 2019 rookie sorry not sorry

yourusername: POOKIE, I LOVE YOU POOKIE

oscarpiastri: I LOVE YOU TOO POOKIE

logansargeant: can i like have a medal or some championship points for 1. dealing with this nonsense and 2. keeping this a secret

yourusername: you're our favourite third wheel? that's all i got

oscarpiastri: we also pay for your room service every time

logansargeant: ... fine

user52: they're all so close to me, need y/n and oscar to be the first husband and wife to both win a championship

yourusername: that's the plan 🤞

oscarpiastri: are you PROPOSING TO ME?

yourusername: not yet...

oscarpiastri: hehehehehehe

lewishamilton: SLAM ON THE BRAKES, I JUST GOT USED TO THIS LET'S NOT BRING UP MARRIAGE

yourusername: maybe you need to leave your slag era so i can wife oscar

lewishamilton: DO NOT SLUTSHAME ME

user53: the hamilton piastri house about to be ground zero for the sassy man apocalypse

landonorris: you people are so grossly in love, how did we miss it?

alexalbon: speak for yourself it was so obvious

yourusername: we we're pretty obvious

oscarpiastri: yeah i can confirm that when we told you we were having a pillow fight, we were not

landonorris: WHAT

lewishamilton: delete this.

fernandoalo_oficial: @yourusername did you guys do this so you didn't have to give me a tow?

yourusername: yes xoxoxo

note: i hope you enjoy. life is insane right now but i got my first article at the top of the google rankings so there's that. also ordered my graduation gown and dress!! much love x

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 x you #f1 #f1 social media au #oscar piastri instagram au #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri fanfic

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cheonstapes · 8 months

Note

Nothing in my mind but nerd! Miguel and titties.

I'm going back to sleep.

miguel o’hara stars in… ‘YOUR BOOBS LOOK HEAVY, LET ME HOLD ‘EM FOR YOU” ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ

a/n ~ i am so downbad for nerd miguel, what the fuck. titties, titties, titties, titties, rocking everywhere! thank you nonnie!!!! love you !! creds to @nymphomatique 💗

summary; you let miguel sleep over for the first time, and it definitely won’t be the last.

wc; 1.3k+

pairings; nerd!miguel x fem!reader

cw; SMUT!!, titties, body worship basically, switch!miguel, switch!reader, reader has pierced nipples, spanking, anal play, slapping, anal fingering, breeding kink/impregnation kink, cumming in pants, cumming kinda untouched?, biting, dry humping, they’re in love idc, nawt proofread - why did this take me like a week

miguel had been such a good boy for you, making sure you passed all your exams for this semester - you decided that he deserved a little treat

you invited him over one weekend to your dorm, telling him he was allowed to sleep over

he’s never moved faster with the way he packed up his bag and ran to your dorm which is on the other side of the campus

when he got there he was all sweaty n panting heavy, it was a little pathetic how eager he was but you let him in, making sure he went a took a shower asap

to be honest, you didn’t expect it to be hard for you to keep your hands to yourself, especially when your little boytoy is walking around your dorm in that combo - grey sweats and a tight wife beater, you can even see the outline of his abs

he followed you around like a lost puppy, it was cute at least. he couldn’t go two seconds without latching onto you in some way

he was just so excited! getting to spend time with his not-yet-but-almost girlfriend, seeing you in all your natural glory. you thought you had it bad? try hiding a hard-on whilst the woman of your dreams is walking around in booty shorts and a braless cami

speaking of that, miguel could just about make out your puffy, little, nipples through the fabric of your thin shirt - hello kitty barbells piercing your nipples

fuck, he was hard. and those sweats he was wearing weren’t making it any less obvious

miguel loves your tits. period. kneading the soft flesh, sucking on then, biting them. sometimes, whenever he cums inside, he imagines them filled up with milk - he would do anything to get you knocked up

you knew how horny he was, you could be wearing a trash bag and he’d still be as smitten for you as he is every second

so you made a decision - you told him to sleep on the floor.

you almost felt bad, almost

he looked like a kicked puppy, your 6’9 almost-boyfriend pouting like a child

i mean, you gave him a pillow and a blanket at least - plus, you have heated floors. it’s not that bad

he slept right on the side of your bed, making sure to face you directly so he could watch you sleep (not in a creepy way, he just loves you T^T)

you even made sure you were hanging just a little bit over the edge of your bed, an arm hanging over the side - a silent invitation for him to hold your hand

he was sleeping fine for a good while, hands still laced tightly with yours - but he was getting restless not touching you for so long

he stood up, as quietly as his huge ass feet would let him, walking round to the other side of the bed and sliding in

it creaked loudly but you were fast asleep anyway, so he moved closer

he wrapped a beefy arm around your middle, hand coming to rest on your chest

oh. yeah, your tits.

now he was hard again

he pressed himself against you, completely spooning you, large hands sliding under your cami and groping your tits

you weren’t an idiot though, you knew this was gonna happen - having calculated every possibility before he came. you would rather die than admit you were a bit nervous about him sleeping over too

you purposely wore the cami cause you knew it would rile him up, n he always took such good care of his mommy’s pretty tits

you turned to look at him, smiling teasingly - “why’re you in my bed, hm?”

—————————————————————————————————

miguel felt like he was in deep shit, he knew how easily you could flip on him despite that pretty smile. he immediately retracted his hand, stammering as he tried to sit up. “s-sorry, i just missed you. i…i couldn’t sleep, ‘n you just look so gorgeous when you sleep and i couldn’t help myself-“ god, he always talks so much. with a tight grip on his bicep, you drag him back down to the bed, pushing him down on the plush pillows as you straddle his waist.

he was so pretty beneath you. glasses laid somewhere on the floor, curly hairs framing his face. his hands gripped your ass, whining quietly as he ground up against you. “mommy…” you placed your hands on his chest, keeping him pinned to the bed as you leaned forward. he felt like he couldn’t breathe, your tits were resting just above his face, hard nipples grazing his lips. yeah, he was definitely gonna fuck a baby into you one day.

his hands moved up to your hips, squeezing the flesh before he placed a hand on your upper back pulling you down completely. miguel’s tongue snaked out to lick at your hard nipples, the sensation of the cold barbells on his tongue making his hips jerk up against the crotch of your tight shorts. “shit...when d’you get them pierced?”

you rolled your eyes, lifting up your shirt and grabbing the back of his head - pushing his mouth to your tit, grinding salaciously against his clothed cock. “none of your fuckin’ business. if you wanna suck on my tits, then shut up and suck.” you didn’t have to tell him twice.

he sucked hard, unable to resist imagining them filled up with milk, all swollen and heavy, you round with his kid- SMACK. his head whipped to the side, lips slipping off your spit-soaked nipple as he stared up at you in shock. his cheek was stinging, but his cock was straining even harder against the fabric, twitching as his face thrummed with pain. “stop thinkin’, and suck harder. you should even be grateful i’m lettin’ you sleep here, so worship mommy’s tits like you mean it.”

miguel grasped your ass once again, large hands digging into the flesh as he caressed your soft skin through your skimpy shorts, sneakily pulling the waistband down as he ran his fingers down to your cunt. ‘course you were wet, slick staining his sweats. he collected some on his fingers, dragging it back up to your puckered hole, thrusting two wet fingers inside as other hand controls your movements.

“f-fuck, wait, you dickhead.” he continued to suckle on your breasts, flicking and teasing your nipples, tugging on the barbell’s softly as his fingers sped up. your body was quivering in pleasure, his free hand spanking your ass occasionally whenever you would pull yourself away from his mouth - massaging the reddened flesh soothingly afterwards.

his mouth and tongue were downright sinful. the sensation racking over your whole body as your orgasm steadily approached, the swirling fire in your lower belly lighting up. you weren’t the only one, though. miguel was hardly keeping himself together, thick thighs trembling as he tried to keep himself from spilling out his cum in his boxers, the tip of his cock peeking out of his waistband. all he wanted to do was see you writhe in pleasure, see that beautiful face of yours glowing in ecstasy after your release.

you would always let out this adorable, whiny moan when you were close, lips parting, small breathy pants - he knew you better than he knew himself. he was more motivated than ever, fingers moving a bruising speed, tongue relentless. he tugged on your piercing hard, a hand coming to rub your engorged clit through your thong. “m-miguelll - shit, baby - ugh.” creamy liquid coated your panties, not your cum - but his. the red tip spurting out thick loads all over his stomach, the sticky mess tangling with his happy trail ‘n pooling in his navel.

“t-thank…fuck- thank you, mommy.”

you pushed him back to the floor, curling up in the blankets - cheeks heating up as you muttered. “yeah, whatever. shut the fuck up and go to sleep.”

“goodnight, sleep well p-pretty.”

“…night, miguel.”

yeah, you were falling for him - hard.

- my titties are small but he’d hold them like they weighed the world

#cheonstapes #cheonstapes films!🪷#miguel o’hara x reader #atsv miguel #miguel smut #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara headcanons #miguel o’hara fic #sub miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel x y/n #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara #cheonslovelynonnies💕#cheonsshowreals 🤍

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watchmegetobsessed · 10 days

Text

MAKE HER REGRET IT

A/N: i was really in the mood for some smut and the neighbors trope popped into my head, so here we are!

WORD COUNT: 4.1k

WARNING: sexual content

SUMMARY: Harry, your freshly divorced, insanely hot neighbor needs your help: you have to pretend to be his new girlfriend when his ex-wife comes over, however your little stunt outdoes your expectations in a lot of ways.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

It's a basic instinct for you at this point to look up at the balcony whenever you’re approaching your apartment building. However you’re not looking at yours, but the one next to yours that belongs to one hot, freshly divorced guy who moved in next door about two months ago.

You remember the morning the moving truck appeared and you knew someone was taking the vacant apartment beside yours. You just arrived back from your morning run and you jumped right into guesses about who it will be. Maybe someone your age? A girl you can go to yoga with? Or a sweet old lady you can have tea with on warm afternoons? Hopefully not a noisy family, because the walls are way too thin to endure the screaming of a child.

Then you saw him. Carrying a heavy looking box up the stairs, a simple white shirt stretching on his torso, tattooed arms flexing under the weight of the box, you knew you were fucked the first time you saw Harry Styles.

It took you no time to lurk over the next day and introduce yourself as his neighbor.

“If you need suggestions for coffee spots around the neighborhood, I’m your person,” you smiled at him charmingly as he stood in his doorway in gray sweats and a black t-shirt, hair messy but so delicious, it was screaming for your fingers to run through his locks.

“I will definitely keep that in mind. I can offer to fix anything around your apartment, I’m kind of a handyman,” he chuckled and your knees almost buckled hearing his creamy british accent.

Fate played on your hand, because you kept running into each other so it didn’t take long for you to go out for a coffee run together and it was smooth sailing from then. You learned about how he just got divorced, his wife cheated on him and he found out on their second anniversary, tragic story and you still can’t quite understand how any woman could cheat on a man like him. You practically drool every time you catch a glimpse of him arriving back from a run in nothing but a pair of shorts, his tanned skin glistening from sweat. You definitely love to move out to the balcony around the time he can be expected to appear in the late afternoon, you watch him stretch and breathe heavily and the sight alone makes you break a sweat as well, but for a whole different reason.

You’ve been trying to flirt with him every possible occasion, but you also make sure you don’t come off too pushy. After all he just got out of a marriage, it must be hard on him to recover from being cheated on. There’s also a slight age difference between the two of you, not that dramatic, but that eight years could easily be a deal breaker for him, so you’ve been playing it safe.

When you’re lying in bed late at night and sleep is not coming to you, you can’t help but think of how he is on the other side of the wall, you imagine him sleeping without a shirt, maybe thinking about you the way you like to think of him… But it’s all just a fantasy, one you fancy very much.

The door to his balcony is open so you know he is home, but he is not out. You take your time walking up the stairs, your legs are definitely tired from the run you just had and just when you reach your floor Harry’s front door swings open and you stop, watching him walk over to your door. He didn’t notice you, so you stay still and watch him take a deep breath as he lifts his fist up to knock, but then it falls back to his side and he shakes his head, stepping backwards before returning to his spot on your doormat and that’s when you decide to put him out of his misery.

“Are you out of sugar, neighbor?” you ask, slowly walking towards him. Harry spins around with a stunned expression.

“Oh, I didn’t–I didn’t see you.” You catch his gaze running down your body and legs and you’re thankful you decided to wear your shortest shorts.

Playing with your keys in your hands, you finally reach him.

“What’s up?”

“Um… I have a bit of a situation on my hands and you might be able to help me.”

Unlocking the door you push it in and gesture for him to follow you inside.

“Do tell me.”

Rounding your way into the kitchen you step to the fridge to grab some water. Harry hesitantly follows you and stops by the kitchen counter.

“So, I talked to Rory this morning,” he starts. You’ve heard enough about Rory, his ex wife to know that if she’s involved, it’s for sure something messy. “You know that painting in my living room?” You nod. “Well, she insists it’s hers, because a friend of hers painted it, but I was the one who paid for it. Whatever. She’s been trying to get me to give it to her and honestly I’m over it so I gave in. She is picking it up today.”

“When will the part where I can help come?”

“Right here,” he chuckles nervously. “We got into a fight, no surprise. She screamed at me over the phone and told me I’ll die alone because no one can put up with my shit.”

You need to force yourself to swallow the bitterness in your mouth. That woman sounds very much like the spawn of the devil, because who would say that to anyone? Especially to Harry? Aside from being insanely hot you’ve also learned just how kind, passionate and funny he is, basically the whole deal. Rory is the biggest loser in history for letting go of a man like him.

“One thing followed the other and I just… Um, I told her that I have someone.”

The light bulb switches on in your mind, because you already know where this is heading. And you like it, very much.

“I don’t know what got into me, but I told her she can meet my alleged girlfriend when she picks up the painting so she can see herself that I’m not the loser she thinks I am. And… as you might now, I do not have anyone…”

“You want me to be your fake girlfriend,” you finish for him, saving him from having to say it out loud. You can see just how awkward he is, having to ask you for such a thing.

“Basically, yeah. Only if you don’t mind being part of this shitshow. I understand if you find it weird and I don’t expect you to–”

“When should I be over at yours?” you simply ask and watch his eyes go wide.

“Y-You will do it?”

“Sure, sounds fun. Besides, I’m curious to see the stupidest woman on earth,” you add smirking and he finally lets out a relieved laugh as well.

“Thank you so much, Y/N. Really, I owe you big time. She’ll be here in about two hours.”

“Perfect. I’ll be there.”

For the next two hours, you do everything you can to bring out the hottest version of yourself. Hair, makeup, dress, everything is on spot when you step out of your apartment and walk over to Harry’s door, ringing the bell.

When the door swings open and Harry sees you his mouth hangs open, giving you that one last ego boost you need to be the best possible fake girlfriend ever.

“Satisfied with your girlfriend?” you ask, tilting your head.

“I-I uh–Yeah! I’m… yes.”

“Can I go inside then?” you ask with a chuckle and he steps aside in a hurry.

“Sorry, yeah come inside.”

“So what’s the plan?” you ask, walking into his living room and making yourself comfortable on the couch. Harry follows, but he takes the armchair across you and you can tell he is still struggling with not ogling you, especially your exposed legs and deep cleavage the dress teases him with.

“I don’t… I have no idea, I have never done this before.”

“I have.”

“Really?”

“Just once, in college. One of my friends broke up with a girl who did not take it well and I was his fake girlfriend for a week to get her to stop harassing him. It worked.”

“Then… I trust you with anything.”

“What’s the goal?”

Harry opens his mouth, but then closes, as if he is embarrassed to say what’s on his mind.

“Harry, say it. I’m happy to help with anything.”

“I want to make her regret it.”

“Regret what she said?”

“Regret everything,” he corrects and when he looks you in the eye a shiver runs down your spine from the determination that’s behind his green irises.

“Consider it done,” you smile at him devilishly.

At your suggestion you both take a shot to ease your nerves and make it easier to lie. It seems to loosen him just enough that he doesn’t look like he is about to attend an interrogation.

And then the bell rings.

“Show time,” you smile at him and as he walks over to the door you take your place on the couch again.

You hear the door open and then a female voice mixes with Harry’s before the footsteps follow. Harry comes into view first, but then Rory steps out from behind him and you see the pure shock in her eyes when she finally spots you.

“Oh, hi!” you smile at her almost disgustingly sweetly as you stand from the couch and walk closer. “You must be Rony. I’m Y/N.” You hold out a hand for her and watch as her mouth twitches when she hears you mess her name up.

“Rory,” she sassily says and shakes your hand at last. “So you’re the… girlfriend.” The disgust in her tone is apparent, she is not even trying to hide it and it just makes it way more enjoyable.

“Yes and you must be the cheating ex-wife.”

Harry coughs beside you, he was not expecting you to be this blunt, but the look on Rory’s face is priceless, because she can’t deny what she is. Moving closer to Harry you wrap an arm around his waist and though at first he freezes at your closeness, he is quick to recover and join in on the act, his arm finding your waist as well.

“The painting is over there, just take it and let’s get over with it, alright?” Harry nods towards the painting he already took off the wall, now it’s leant against the console table that’s been underneath it.

“You didn’t even wrap it?” she scoffs. How am I supposed to take it like this?”

“Rory, I’m not a fucking gallery. You wanted the painting, take it.”

“It’s gonna be ruined if I just put it into my car like this!” she argues.

“That’s none of my business.”

“Harry, this is so not okay! I can’t–”

“Jesus, Rory fine! I think I have some bubble wrap,” he grunts, heading into his bedroom to find something to wrap the painting in, leaving the two of you alone.

Rory gives you another long, dirty look, as if you were the woman Harry cheated on her with when she is the culprit of this mess here.

“So how long have you been together?” she then asks, pretending like she is just chit chatting, but you know she is eager to know everything about you.

“A little over a month now. You know, I wasn’t looking for anything serious, but Harry is just the perfect guy and I couldn’t stay away from him.”

“Oh, he is not that perfect, little girl.”

It’s obvious she tried to derogate you by calling you a little girl, she must be around the age of Harry, not more than thirty-six for sure, but she can’t find anything to use against you other than the fact that you’re clearly in your twenties. How mature.

“I know. But everything he can give me makes it worth it. And the sex, ah!”

She gives you a puzzled look. You knew this would stir her up, Harry mentioned how distant they grew in the last few months and sex wasn’t the same anymore. Looking at the timeline she must have started her affair around that time and Harry couldn’t perform the way he otherwise could because she wasn’t open to him anymore. It was a vicious cycle, but you also know Rory is the kind of woman who must have humiliated him because of that. Harry never said, but you just feel that she criticized his sexual performance when she left him even if it all happened because of her.

And now hearing that he is giving his all to another woman is definitely something that can drive her nuts.

“Oh please, he sucks in bed,” she scoffs.

“Not with the right partner. He is so good, I honestly don’t know how you could let go of him.”

“He couldn’t make me cum for months!”

“That’s unfortunate. I get an orgasm basically after every meal. He is so good at it, honestly, it’s like he just wants to please me every possible moment. I mean, I can’t remember a morning when I didn’t wake up with his head between my legs, he loves quickies, I have to sanitize the kitchen counter like twice a day.” You let out a chuckle and just watch as her face grows redder while staring at the kitchen counter, raging jealousy swirling in her mind for sure. It’s clearer than daylight that she didn’t cheat on him because he wasn’t manly enough, this woman is simply a stupid loser who couldn’t appreciate what she had, maybe panicked that she can’t mess around with others and then simply chose to ruin everything.

You’re more than happy to remind her what she lost.

“Alright, this is all I got,” Harry emerges from the bedroom with some bubble wrap he probably had left from moving, but when he sees you and Rory staring each other down, he stops. But before he could speak up, you decide to push that knife into Rory’s chest as your final move.

Stepping over to Harry you push yourself up against him, he drops the bubble wrap and his hands grab you by the waist instantly, though you see confusion in his eyes before you take his face in your hands and pull him closer, lips pressing against his hungrily.

It’s not a sweet, shy first kiss. This is the perfect show off, messy, passionate, full of tongue and eagerness as you practically devour each other. For a bit you forget about the show you’re putting up and it’s your real desire you’ve been fighting for weeks now. Every time you try to pull back Harry just keeps demanding more and you happily give him what he wants. He bites into your bottom lip when one of his hands moves down to your ass, giving it a not-at-all shy squeeze, making you moan into the kiss.

It feels like it takes forever for you to stop, when you open your eyes you’re met with Harry’s hungry eyes, his lips are slightly swollen and shiny from your kisses.

And then you remember you’re not alone.

“Oh, fuck you. Fuck you both!” Rory pops the bubble around you and when you turn to look at her, she is already grabbing the painting, not even bothering to wrap it.

“It was nice to meet you!” you call after her.

“Fuck you!” she repeats, marching towards the door and you’re just smirking like an idiot, pleased with yourself for pissing her off so badly.

Harry follows her to shut the door behind her and you let yourself bathe in the sweet victory you just earned.

“This went amazing, right? She was so mad, oh my God!” you laugh, but your smile quickly disappears when you realize the serious look on Harry’s face as he is walking back towards you.

Shit, maybe the kiss was too much. He didn’t want it and now he is pissed at you.

“Are you mad about the kiss? I-I’m sorry if it was too–”

The words die down on your lips when they crash against his again, his hand cupping the back of your head while the other returns straight to your ass, groping you so hard your whole body smashes against his.

Your mouth opens in surprise and it gives him the chance to push his tongue against yours, he is demanding, rough and so much more raw than what you imagined him to be like.

“What did you tell her?” he asks against your mouth, moving you around until the small of your back hits the kitchen counter. “What did you tell her that made her so pissed?” he demands, his hand already eagerly moving underneath your dress. He presses two fingers against your clothed clit, making your eyes roll into the back of your head.

“I said, ah–I said I wake up every day with… your head between my legs, and… Oh fuck!” You’re losing your ability to speak your thoughts as his fingers start circling, the fabric of your underwear is so drenched, if you could think straight you might be embarrassed just how aroused he made you so fast.

“And?” he urges you to continue, but at the same time he pushes your underwear to the side and pushes two fingers into you without warning, making you gasp so loud that people on the street must have heard it through the open balcony door.

“A-and that you fuck me on the… the kitchen counter all the time.”

He curls his fingers inside you as he keeps talking.

“Then that’s what I’ll do to you now. Are you okay with that?” he asks and you nod eagerly as you hold onto his broad shoulders.

The next moment he pulls his hand back and you whine, feeling empty all of a sudden, but then he lifts you up and makes you sit on the counter, he lowers himself and places your legs over his shoulders with careful, but confident moves. You grab onto his hair as he pushes his head between your thighs and his mouth meets your clit.

“Oh, fuck! Harry!” you gasp out, tugging on his hair as he swirls his tongue against your swollen clit, his fingers teasing your hole again. Then they push into you and he sucks on your clit, making you see stars.

You imagined him to be skilled, but whatever it is he is doing to you, it feels out of this world and now you know you weren’t wrong when you praised him that much to Rory before.

You’re totally out of breath when he comes up, he kisses you and you can taste yourself on his tongue, your hands impatiently tug on his shirt to get rid of it. Soon the fabric lands on the tiled floor and you map out every inch of his hard chest with your palm and while you keep kissing like there’s no tomorrow, you faintly hear the zipper of his pants come undone.

You look him in the eyes when you reach down and take his hard length into your hands and you can’t hold back a gasp when you realize just how big he is.

“I know you can take it, baby,” he coos, kissing the corner of your mouth and you’re ready to take him right then and there, but he moves back, making you reach for him in panic. “Condom,” he says and you lean back onto your elbows with a sigh as you watch him disappear in his bedroom. You have just a few seconds you process that here you are, on top of Harry’s kitchen counter, with your dress bunched up around your waist, your drenched pussy on show, waiting to be fucked properly. You definitely did not expect this outcome when you woke up this morning, but you’re not complaining.

Then Harry appears and he is walking over to you, completely naked, his dick in his hands as he rolls the condom on while moving and you bite into your bottom lip, hoping to remember this view until the end of time.

When he reaches you again he simply curls his arms around your thighs and tugs on you so you get closer to the edge. His erection wedges between your wet folds and the tip pokes against your clit, making you clench around nothing.

“I have to admit, I’ve been fantasizing about fucking you on this counter since the day I moved in and saw you for the first time.”

“Just on the counter?” you ask teasingly.

“Every surface of this fucking apartment,” he admits with no remorse.

“Make a list then and I’m more than happy to do them all. But let’s tick the counter off first.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice.”

He reaches down and circles his thumb against your clit a bit before grabbing his dick by the base and dragging it up and down your cunt a few times before pushing the head in first, letting you adjust to his thickness first. When you claw at his chest he takes it as a sign to go deeper and he keeps pushing until you take his whole length, feeling fuller than ever before.

“I want to go hard,” he breathes out, staying still for now.

“Go hard then. I can take it,” you assure him, though you do have doubts feeling just how stretched out you are now.

“Of course you can. You’re my good girl,” he praises you and before you could get a word out, he pulls back and slams into you hard.

There are moments when you actually think you’re about to burst, Harry did not joke when he said he wants to go hard, his thrusts are fast and rough and he makes sure he buries his whole length into you every time he pushes into you. At one point he pulls your legs over his shoulders and it allows him to reach a point in you no one has before and it pushes you towards the edge rapidly. The counter is painfully hard underneath you, but you somehow forget about the pain and only focus on how hard Harry is railing into you. His stamina is incredible, your body already feels like goo and you’re not even doing the actual work.

“Harry, I’m so close,” you moan and his fingers dig deeper into your thighs at your words.

“Come around my cock, baby. I wanna feel you squeeze me.”

You cry out his name again, a tear rolling down your cheek, because you’re so desperate to let go. Harry moves a hand to where you meet and his thumb returns to your clit and that’s what throws you over the edge.

Your back arches and you squeeze around him uncontrollably, gasping for air as he ruthlessly keeps fucking into you.

“That’s it, baby. You look so fucking beautiful, coming on my cock.”

You can’t stop moaning as you ride out your orgasm. The last waves are washing over your body when his movements fall out of rhythm, he slams into you hard and he sucks on his breath before moaning out your name over and over again, pushing into you a few more times as he comes. He falls forward, his face burying into your heaving chest as he tries to catch his breath along with you. There’s a long minute of silent bliss, his cock is still inside you, his lips peppering soft kisses onto the skin that’s exposed on your chest while you’re mindlessly playing with his hair.

When he straightens up he pulls out of you, the empty feeling hitting you again. He carefully helps you off the counter, but keeps his arms around you, because when your feet hit the floor you wobble.

Nuzzling your nose against his chest you take the cross pendant on his necklace between your teeth and pull back, looking him in the eyes.

“Don’t do that, or we’re moving to the next place on the list.”

Giggling you let go of it and push yourself up to steal a kiss.

“Give me some time to recover, but I’m all in to check out another place.”

“Jesus, I knew you’d be the death of me the moment I saw you,” he breathes out, before his mouth claims yours hungrily.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut

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angelplummie · 25 days

Note

art humping your thigh while you're too busy analyzing his recent matches <33

mhm. u sit with your laptop in bed while art kisses your neck. he’s supposed to be watching too but he’s sleepy, he doesn’t wanna watch anymore, he wants to feel. he presses his lips to the base of your neck, just above your collar bone. you tilt your jaw up to allow his way with you, but you keep your eyes trained on the screen.

“you kept missing on thursday because you centre yourself to the left just a bit. he always hit it to the right and you had to scramble.”

“mm.”

his voice reverberated in your throat as his lips stayed against you.

“i don’t know if you’re playing this guy again, but it’s something to keep in mind.”

“ok.”

he moves over you, shifting his weight till both of his legs are either side of one of yours. he holds your shoulder like a child holds a teddy bear.

his head nestles into your neck, his hair tickles your chin, and you sigh.

“art im trying to help you. they’re fucking you. i don’t want to watch my husband get fucked on the court.”

“can you help me somewhere else?”

you readjust so you can see the laptop better, and kiss his scalp.

“help yourself.”

on the video, art lunges forward, his lean body extending as he grunts like a man and pounds the ball away. sweat pours from every pore on his forehead, chest, arms, and he shines in the sun. it cuts to his competitor, who grazes the ball with his racket to no avail.

in your bed, art presses down onto you, dragging himself backwards. he mewls, hoping to get more of your attention. instead of acknowledging him you pet his hair with a lazy wrist, eyes never leaving the screen. he was playing better now. he won the match after all, but it was still important to review his performance. if he got too comfortable he would start slipping. you needed him on a tight leash if he was going to keep crushing.

he rotates his hips, each time crushing your thigh with a force that must be painful to him. each layer of clothes that separated his flesh from yours slid against the other, the phantom of your touch driving him to desperation.

“you did well for this last set.”

“yeah?”

he pushed himself forward, and drew himself back raking his throbbing groin against your lower thigh. his breath shuddered on your chest. he was working up a rhythm, a dragging, quivering, breathless rhythm.

“yeah. no notes, donaldson.”

“hmm. thank you.”

“are you hard?”

“obviously.”

“i’m not helping you.”

“obviously.”

you laugh. you swirl your fingers in his cropped blonde hair.

“you can do it. i believe in you.”

he doesn’t reply, just groans. his knee was bent, and he held himself up ever so slightly so as to drive himself against you with the most force he could. in his shorts was a sticky, leaking cock, rubbed sensitive. in your panties was a wet, aching pussy. but one of you needed to think of his career.

on the video he sat down, a rest period, with his shirt off, leaning back with his legs spread.

“oh, fuck,” he said, teeth clenched.

you could feel the long thick imprint of his cock, and through all the fabric you could still feel it twitch. you sighed and closed the laptop as his humping quickened and his knee raised further between your legs. as he drove himself down upon you, he knocked his knee to the throbbing of your clit. you breathed deeply.

“you did a good job on thursday. i’m proud of you.”

“thank you. thank you.”

your hand moved to his back, tight from digging his fingers into your shoulder for purchase. he slammed his hips down, making a fwop fabric sounds. you grunted airily.

“that’s enough,” you breathed.

his hips stilled on top of you, pressed to you. he lifted his head, lips parted and cheekbones pink.

“you have a match tommorow. use it.”

#art donaldson smut #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson #challengers #challengers x reader #challengers smut #older art donaldson smut #30s art donaldson smut #edging kink #i’m going insane

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st4rymoon · 7 months

Text

✧𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬✧

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟏: 𝐓𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐫 | 18+ | 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭 [sorry for the hold up I’ve been so busy this month 😭 it’s not even October anymore but just pretend like it is]

𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎’𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

warnings: switch Miguel, p in v, unprotected sex, manhandling, size kink, Miguel is a slut for thighs, slight argument with reader and her mom, subby Miguel, nerd Miguel, teasing, language, pet names, soft dom miguel, flirting, sexual tension

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫-𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

You really hate your mom right now. You told her about your struggle in chemistry and now here you were. Apparently to her, her best friends brother happens to be an expert in everything.

“You know he can be some sort of killer right? You just GAVE HIM MY ADDRESS?” You yelled into the phone. “Yeah yeah, I’ve met him hundreds of times! You remember him don’t you?” She sighed.

“That doesn’t mean you should give him my damn address mom. What the hell are you thinking” you seethed.

You remember him somewhat, well when you saw him last you were in your early teens. He was just a year older than you and annoyed the hell out of you. “Don’t be so dramatic. He’ll be there in 30” your mom ended the phone call leaving you in anger.

What in her right mind would lead her to giving him your address? Maybe if you leave now you can make an excuse, Right? No. You know your mom would tease you about this if you left.

You fixed yourself up and sat on the couch, watching your usual binge worthy show while waiting for Einstein to show up at your front door.

You tensed as you heard a knock at the door. Looking through the peep hole, you could see the a broad chest with backpack straps on their back. God how tall is this guy?

You opened the door and see the once messy haired short teen you once knew now a complete behemoth of a man. His shirt hugging his thick arms and chest while some grey sweats hugged around his waist.

His glasses sat at the bridge of his nose, dark messy wavy hair, chiseled jaw, god he looked like a Greek god.

Miguel couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows slightly as he saw you, he definitely didn’t remember you like this either. His eyes instinctively moved to your plump thighs as your shorts rode up high. Your thigh high socks definitely didn’t help.

He cleared his throat in hopes to snap himself out of it but you caught yourself before he could “Miguel right?” You smiled. “Ye- yeah, yeah” he nodded “Your mom gave me your address? I told her it might be a little weird if I just showed up but she wouldn’t take no for an answer” he chuckled awkwardly.

“That sounds like my mother, if your busy and all you don’t need to worry about it”

“I don’t have anything going on, but hey I’m already here right? Might as well?” He joked. The atmosphere was tense but you couldn’t help but invite him in “come in” you smiled and gave him space to walk in.

Miguel’s eyes scanned through your apartment, clean and tidy which he liked “So you’re struggling with Chem right?” He hummed as he turned back to look at you.

His breath hitched as he saw you bend down to get a few waters from the mini-fridge. Your ass was in perfect display as the flimsy white socks hugged the back of your thighs. His eyes flew down to his feet as you stood up and walked towards him.

You were unaware of his eyes lingering on you. You sat besides him, as you pulled out some of your work. “I’m struggling with these conversions” you sighed as you stared down at your insufferable homework.

When you looked up at Miguel you swear you could’ve jumped onto him and kissed him.

He was staring down at you, his eyes already on yours as he nodded. His body slumped slight towards you, close enough to feel how warm he was “What’s the thing that’s confusing?” He hummed.

You stuttered as you explained it to him. He nodded and started his teaching. You didn’t know how long you were studying, it flew by surprisingly fast and helped the tension disappear.

“I need a break” you whined as you slammed the book in annoyance “I think you deserved one” Miguel laughed as he placed the books back onto the table.

“How have you been? I feel like I haven’t seen you in a while” you smiled, sitting on your thighs now and body completely facing him. “I- I’ve been good. A lot of studying per usual”

“How about you? You definitely aren’t the same person I remember” Miguel joked “stressed as always and same here, I definitely didn’t expect this new you. I mean I remember the annoying freshman Miguel” you teased.

“New me?” He chuckled “I mean you grew like 10 ft and look like a damn super hero” you chuckled. Miguel felt himself heat up at your compliment. Surprisingly, he didn’t get many.

Maybe it was because he was a hermit most of the time but it took him by surprise “Thanks” he nervously chuckled as he pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. His eyes scanned your body in a way that told you what he was thinking, you chuckled as he cleared his throat once he noticed you looking at him.

“So you live near here?” You hummed, Miguel nodded with his mouth slightly agar as you curled up your thighs onto your chest, slightly exposing your plump cunt through your shorts. “Ye- yeah I do, about 20 minutes” he nodded.

“It’s a surprise that we go to the same university yet I’ve never seen you” Miguel try’s his best to not make things awkward. “Different schedule’s, the campus is huge” you teased.

You could read Miguel like a book, it was cute. He was nervous despite being older than you and the obvious size difference. He was fidgeting with his hands and trying his best to not eye fuck you right now.

“You’re really trying hard not to check me out” you chuckled as you noticed him glare down at your tits “I- no I wasn’t I was-“ he stuttered. “Don’t worry, you're a nice piece of eye candy too” you cooed.

You could see his chest rising with every breath, every inch you scooted the heavier he breathed “why are you so nervous?” You cooed. “Im not” miguel replied, his eyes his glued onto yours ”sure”

“Don’t be nervous, I don’t bite” you pouted. Miguel really hated you right now. He was a gentleman and always contained himself. But seeing you tease him in your pretty pjs was getting to him. “What a shame” he whispered as his finger softly ghosted past your leg.

You perked up at the comment, what a shame? You watched as his fingers slowly rubbed up your skin. A whine escaped your lips as he pulled back, his eyes shooting up at the sound.

Miguel couldn’t help it, he leaned and kissed you. He had no idea why he did it, he isn’t the type to do these things but fuck did it feel good.

You jumped onto his lap, both of you messily kissing each other after a few hours of seeing each other. Miguel was panting, whining in your mouth as he felt your tits pressing against him.

His thumbs circled your hips as he softly runts his hips up into you “you feel so good” Miguel hummed as your lips latched onto his neck.

Miguel’s eyes were trained on your thighs, he watched them grind onto his sides as he bucked ups hips up. He watched them giggle as he fucked himself into you fully clothed.

Miguel was putty in your hands, he whined and squirmed as you pressed your body against his, hands tangled into his hair as he sat back in ecstasy. “Please” he whispered, your head shot up “yeah?” You cooed.

“Take ‘em off” he quietly spoke as he tugged at your shorts. You chuckled, obeying his wishes and kicked off your shorts. Miguel let out a pathetic whine as he saw you weren’t wearing any panties, your pussy on full view as you straddled back onto him.

“You gonna take these off? Or am I doing all the work?” You mocked as you ran your hands up his thighs. He nodded dumbly as he held you up to his chest with his arm as the other tugged his sweats off.

You were practically salivating at the sight of his cock spring out of his tightly fitted boxers. He was huge in every fucking way. “You won’t be doing the work”’he whispered into your ear as he hugged you onto his chest.

His lips latched onto your neck as he buried himself under your chin, sloppily licking and biting his way up to kiss you. The kiss was messy and sloppy as he pulled you in for a kiss with a fist full of your hair in hand.

Your eyes rolled back at the sensation of his cock rubbing between your folds, sticky slick coating him as he watched your body reacting to his.

You let out a yelp as he man handled you onto your back, his hands instinctively lifting your plump thighs onto your chest as he watched your pussy glistening in slick. He let out an animalistic moan as his eyes trailed up your thighs and to your face.

Your glossy eyes staring up at him as the flimsy material of your socks hugged the back of your thighs and pussy in full view would make anyone in their right mind lose their mind.

“God you’re so fucking pretty” he hummed as he fisted his cock and his tip dragged it through your folds with a smile on his face.

You were taken back by the way he looked above you, the guy who was under your spell a few minute’s ago now towering over you like he’s about to ruin you was driving you crazy.

“Please” you whined as he continued his teasing. He smiled, one of his thick hands rubbing up your thigh as he nodded “no more teasing” he cooed.

You let out a whine as he pushed himself inside you, his fat tip already bullying it’s way inside. “oh fu- oh my!” You moaned as he seethed, his eyes watching the way you hugged his cock, your needy pussy taking him greedily.

“Fuckkk…. Ah- fu-“ he hummed as he began to thrust his hips, one hand holding your legs onto your chest and the holding himself up for a better position.

You gripped onto his hand as he picked up the pace, his hand wrapping to hold yours as he let your legs fall to his sides and give you a sloppy kiss. The both of you moaned into each other as he slammed into your pussy.

You bounced roughly along with his hard long slams, you sunk into the cushions as his body weight had you caged under him “m- m- ah Miguel” you dumbly spoke.

Miguel chuckled in response, watching you already cock drunk by a few thrusts “I know baby, feels so good huh?” He cooed. You squeeze his hand harder as he hooked your legs around his waist, giving him more leeway to slam into you.

The couch was creaking loudly as he pounded you into oblivion, the noise complaints you’d be getting later this week were the least of your worries as both your moans filled the living room.

“F- feels so good mhm ah- fuck” Miguel panted as he felt you pulsing around him. You scratched at his thick arms that held you in place, your face turning into his bicep that was pressed besides you.

You moaned into him as your orgasm filled all of your senses, you shook uncontrollably under him as he angled his hips up, curving his cock perfectly inside you.

He felt himself dumbly smiling as he watched you squirm and gushing under him. He loved how fucking small you looked right now. Your pretty little face buried in his arm as he fucked your pussy like a madman. “So fucking pretty” he huffed as he felt himself twitch inside you, his moans filling your ears as he fucked his loads inside you.

You moaned at the feeling of everything, you were so overwhelmed by pleasure. His cock buried inside you, his pretty moans filling your ears, and his warm body pressed closely onto yours.

Miguel almost crushed you as he orgasmed but before he could, his arm quickly flipped you over. He sunk into the cushion as he placed you above him. Your head fell onto his chest as he grunted in bliss, cock still buried in you.

You let out a sigh of relief as he pulled out softly, his hands running over your skin as if you were made of glass. He made sure to be gentle as he sat up, his sweaty body pressed onto yours as his hand ran down your hair “you ok?” He cooed.

You nodded with a smile on your face, his hand lifting your face and kissing you softly “so much for chemistry”

#smut #marvel smut #kinktober #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara imagines #miguel ohara #miguel o hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara smut

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august126 · 3 months

Text

Scenes from an Italian Restaurant

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: Joel Miller is a lot of things: your dad’s best friend, your boss, your next-door neighbor. And, y'know, the guy you’ve been harboring a massive crush on since your freshman year of college.

You're pretty sure your feelings aren't reciprocated... until one night that changes everything.

Warnings:Age Difference,Joel is 49 and Reader is 24,Oral Sex,Car Sex,semi-public sex (sort of),Flirting,Masturbation, and Dirty Talk

Words:12,334

a/n: so sorry it took me almost a month to post something new ffs - life got busy and my inspiration simultaneously disappeared.

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“Y’know, while ‘m happy that you’re livin’ with me again, I’d appreciate it f’ya started tryin’ to find a job that put that fancy degree t’use.” You peer over the top of the book you’d been reading at your dad, who’s taking up a spot at the end of your pool chair. His arms are crossed over his navy work shirt, drenched in sweat from working all day in the roiling heat customary of a Texas summer, and he’s watching you expectantly for an answer.

You set your book on your chest and sigh. It’s not that you aren’t thankful or don’t appreciate your dad allowing you to move back in with him after graduating from college a year ago. You fully understand how fortunate you are not to have to worry about paying rent; you’re also eternally grateful to your dad for hooking you up with a decent-paying job as a secretary at the contracting business his best friend owns. However, you were getting very, very tired of having this conversation.

“And you know that I am lookin’, but it’s silly for me t’apply for an entry-level position at a firm that’s gonna pay me less than what ‘m makin’ now.” Your dad rolls his eyes and grumbles something snippy under his breath, his go-to combo when he doesn’t like that you’re right. You pin him with a pointed stare. “Care to repeat that?”

“Said maybe I oughta tell Joel to dock your pay then,” your dad states, but any lingering irritation in his tone dissipates by the time he’s finished speaking. He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, and his slight frown turns into a small, teasing smile.

“Somebody say my name?” Your gaze shifts from your dad to the sliding glass door behind him… or, rather, the man who opened it.

Joel Miller is a lot of things: your dad’s best friend, your boss, your next-door neighbor. And, y'know, the guy you’ve been harboring a massive crush on since your freshman year of college. Currently, Joel Miller is the tanned, broad, tall man striding leisurely through your backyard, navigating around your pool, and stopping beside your father.

He slaps a hand on your dad’s shoulder in greeting and shoots you a bright grin as he coos, “Hey, lady.” Although Joel’s addressed you with the pet name for years, it never fails to cause an eruption of butterflies in your belly and a crimson blush to paint your cheeks.

“Hey, Joel,” you respond, trying to appear nonchalant even as you’re reining in your thundering heart and halting the pulse throbbing just south of your belly button. “Dad was jus’ sayin’ how he’s gonna ask ya to give me a pay cut.” Joel turns to your father, shaking his head.

“And risk losin’ my best employee? No can do, bud.” Even if he’s only joking, you preen at Joel’s praise. You cock an eyebrow at your dad, waiting for some sort of a comeback, but he only glares at you both before huffing.

“I don’t like when the two of ya gang up on me.” You giggle, and Joel shoots you a lazy wink and a warm, victorious smile. “Anyway,” your dad turns his attention back to Joel, “you said reservation’s at 6:45?”

“Uh-huh, so we oughta get our asses movin’,” Joel asserts, and your dad starts heading swiftly back toward your house. Joel’s eyes shift to you, still lounging on your purple pool chair, and he nudges your foot with the toe of his boot. “That means you too, lady.”

“What’s the occasion?”

“Sarah’s birthday,” Joel answers incredulously, and a lightbulb goes off in your head; that’s why you felt like you were forgettin’ something all day. “Please tell me ya didn’t forget my daughter’s birthday. Your friend’s birthday,” Joel teases, shaking his head in feigned disappointment.

“ Of course I didn’t forget,” you lie, narrowing your eyes. Joel sees right through it.

“I bet. Now go get changed ‘fore ya make us late … unless you plan on wearin’ that to dinner.” The blush you just managed to school comes back in full force as he unabashedly rakes his eyes over your body, and only now do you realize how little the tiny black bikini you’re wearing covers.

Joel’s pretty brown eyes, usually so teeming with emotion, are utterly unreadable as you stand from your chair and begin heading inside. As you pass him, you mumble, “Don’t see why you’re complainin’.”

“Didn’t think I was.” You stumble a bit, glancing over your shoulder to find Joel’s gaze slowly sweeping down your body. When his stare lands on your ass, practically bare save for the minuscule cover your bikini bottom provides, his attention snaps back to your face, an impish grin on his lips that makes your skin flush.

“Fuck off, old man,” you reply cooly, flipping him off as you saunter inside; you can still feel Joel’s gaze on you as you ascend the stairs, and if that makes you sway your hips more than usual… well, who the fuck cares?

Once you’ve entered your bedroom and stripped off your bathing suit to assemble an outfit for dinner, your mind drifts into a space you’ve grown all too familiar with over the last five years.

It wasn’t like you didn’t understand how wrong your crush on Joel Miller was. Ignoring the fact that he’s been your dad’s best friend for years, he’s also over two decades your senior and has a daughter only a few years younger than you. It’s disgusting, really, that you have even the slightest hint of attraction toward the man. And yet…

You really can’t find it in yourself to care. You’re no longer a college student parading around under the guise of adulthood. No, you’re a woman now, a woman with autonomy who is perfectly capable of making her own choices. If one of those choices is fucking her dad’s best friend, well, then so be it.

Even as you tell yourself this for the thousandth time, the sentiment feels weak. Sure, the opportunity to fuck Joel Miller is perfectly viable, in theory. However, so many things would have to go right for a thing like that to happen, and you are a notoriously unlucky person; quite frankly, you can count on one hand the number of times you’ve gotten lucky to the degree that you would need to for something like having sex with Joel to happen.

For one, no one would ever be able to find out. Your dad, Sarah, any of your nosey neighbors. Not to mention that the logistical feat of such a thing would be tricky. Where would you guys meet up? Not your house, not his house, and anything public like a bar would be far too risky. No, it would have to be a one-off deal, and you’re not so sure you’d be able to stop at just a single taste of Joel.

And that’s all assumin’ he’d even want me, you think as you comb through your closet looking for a summer dress right for the occasion. Joel Miller had never, never shown a flicker of interest in you. That display by the pool, him ogling your ass in your skimpy bikini? That was just him keeping up the incessant string of banter that passed between the two of you. Sure, he was older than you, but that didn’t matter when it came to the way he treated you, as if you were his friend.

Right, his friend.

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. This line of thinking was an absolute rabbit hole, forcing you down, down, down until there was a headache ebbing at your temples and your veins were licking with equal parts frustration and lust.

Three quick knocks come on your door, and your head whips around at the sound, pulling you out of your Joel-induced stupor. “Hey, lady?”

Fuck. You stand in your closet, stunned into inaction like a deer in headlights as you realize the only thing separating you, butt-ass naked, and Joel is the mahogany of your closed bedroom door.

“Just checkin’ to see ‘f you’re ready yet. Sarah jus’ texted, said her and what’s-his-face are waitin’ at the restaurant.” You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. You off-handedly wonder why you haven’t just slipped a dress on over your head on the off chance Joel decides to swing open your door, and you realize with a sick sort of excitement that you wouldn’t entirely mind Joel walking into your room at this very moment.

“Almost,” you call out, forcing your words to come out smooth as the image of Joel entering your room enters your mind unbidden; you imagine how his eyes would take in your naked form, how it’d take three short strides for him to reach you, how he might drop his head and lick one of your already hardened nipples into his warm, waiting mouth. You swallow thickly before calling out, “Just need another second s’all.”

A dull throb begins at the apex of your thighs as you picture the man on the other side of the wall putting his rough, work-worn hands all over your soft, supple skin. You wonder what his calloused touch would feel like against your flesh, if his honeyed skin would grow rosy under the thorough ministrations of your wet tongue, if his eyes would grow dark and a deep groan would drip from his lips as you closed your mouth around his-

“Sweetheart? Y’alright in there?” You think you mumble an airy affirmation as you mindlessly trace your fingers along your collarbone, imagining that they’re longer, thicker, belonging to another individual entirely. Any semblance of rationality escapes you as your other hand creeps down the smooth skin of your belly, and you cup your sex with a groan you’re barely able to muffle. You’re so outside of yourself, caught up in the slow path your fingers are tracing along your body, that you don’t notice the doorknob begin to turn.

Only when your door starts to lurch open do you fall back into your body from where you were floating a few seconds earlier. Your eyes blow wide, a strangled cry of surprise and horror falling from your mouth as you realize the precarious situation you’re about to be thrust into. “WAIT.”

The slow sway of your door opening halts immediately, and you let out a breath, spinning on your heel to face your closet. “I- ‘m jus’ comin’ in t’make sure you’re alright.” You hastily decide on a sage green strapless dress, something you can slip into quickly and inconspicuously, and rip the silk garment from its hanger.

“Yeah, no, ‘m good, Joel. Great, I’m great, jus’… yeah, gimme a sec.” You throw the dress on, its hem falling to your mid-thigh as you grab a pair of strappy sandals from the bottom of your closet and slip one on, hopping into the other as you approach your door.

“Y’sure, baby? Ya sound-” You slip your shoe on and grab the door handle in one movement, opening it fully to give you an unobstructed view of the man you’d just been on the verge of touching yourself to. Wouldn’t be the first time, you think to yourself unhelpfully.

He’s looking down at you, concern and curiosity bubbling in his gaze, and you raise your eyebrows at him. “See? ‘m fine, all good. Jus’ needed a minute.” Joel’s eyes blaze a lackadaisical trail over your body, and you swear you can feel him cataloging each inch of bare skin you have on display. He reaches out, plucking one of the flimsy green spaghetti straps between his thick fingers before letting it go to snap back against your shoulder. You stifle a gasp, and he brushes the hair careening down your chest back over your shoulder.

“This is pretty,” he says, voice low and velvety, and you can feel your pussy beginning to grow wet at his praise. He bends down until his mouth hovers just next to your ear, and you’re suddenly overwhelmed by the scent of him: musky cologne and citrusy body wash and something unidentifiable yet so undoubtedly Joel. “Did ya mean t’be wearin’ it backward?”

You look down at yourself, heat rising to your face when you realize that he’s right: you’ve managed to put your dress on the wrong way. You shove Joel’s shoulder, and he takes a step back, a smug grin painted on his lips that makes you roll your eyes.

“You’re a dick, y’know that?” He chuckles at your dig, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“And you’re makin’ us late to this dinner. Now, can I trust ya to fix your dress yourself, or do ya need me to help?” He delivers it like a joke, and the logical part of your brain reminds you of that the moment your pulse begins to flutter. He’s just teasin’ you like he always does.

However, the dark, hunger-tinged stare Joel is pinning you with doesn’t feel humorous. You swallow thickly, saliva pooling in your mouth and pinning your tongue to the roof. “I-” you stutter, words failing you as he continues dragging his eyes slowly over your flustered form. “You-”

“Spit it out, baby.” Baby. You turn the endearment over in your head a few times, testing the weight of it on your tongue. Finally, the corners of your lips pull up in a cheeky smile and your eyelids grow heavy as you gaze up into Joel’s face.

“You askin’ to undress me, Miller?” And this doesn’t feel like your typical banter. No, this feels weighted, laced with something headier. Something full of innuendo and promises and an unquenchable appetite for… something. And then your dad’s voice is cutting harshly through the fog.

“Hey hon, I’ll be- oh, Joel, didn’t realize ya came up here.”

Joel doesn’t even spare your dad a glance, eyes still on you as he says, “Jus’ wanted to check and see if your slow-ass kid was ready t’go.” Your dad snorts, and you narrow your eyes at Joel before turning the withering look to your father.

“Don’t laugh at that.”

“Sorry, sweetie, but ya are kinda slow.” Joel’s smirk only grows, and you huff incredulously. Your dad, apparently oblivious to the bubble of tension he popped, continues. “Anywho, was jus’ sayin’ that I’m gonna head out to the car ‘cause we need t’get goin’, so quit your dilly dallyin’ and let’s get a move on.” He raises his eyebrows at you expectantly, and you sigh in defeat.

You look at the ground as you mutter, “Yes, Dad, ‘m just about ready,” and your reply is met with a loud clap of your father's hands.

“Wonderful!” he exclaims, rubbing his palms together before bringing a heavy hand down on Joel’s shoulder. “C’mon, Joel, you can wait with me in the car. I need t’talk to ya ‘bout some work shit anyway.” Your dad begins to drag Joel down the stairs, but not before Joel can get the last word in between you.

He cranes his head back, catching your glare as he descends the stairs. “Y’heard your daddy, no more dilly dallyin’,” he sing-songs, and you scoff.

“Oh, fuck you, Miller.” “Language, ma’am,” you hear your dad chastise sternly, and you grumble a half-assed apology as you close your bedroom door behind you. It only takes you a minute to flip your dress so that you’re wearing it the correct way and throw on a pair of light pink, lace panties, bounding down the stairs and out the front door when you’re ready. Before you know it, you’re seated in the backseat of Joel’s old pickup truck as it cruises down the highway toward Austin’s metro area.

You watch the residential neighborhoods littered with little kids running through sprinklers and elderly couples sitting in chairs on their front porches morph into the city, full of streets tightly lined with buildings and bar-hoppers entering their first destination of the night. The sun still hangs rather high in the sky, dappling the world in a warm amber glow as Joel pulls up outside a quaint Italian bistro nestled between an ice cream parlor full of bright-eyed children and a sushi restaurant rattling with the heavy bass of the music from within.

“Cute lil’ place,” you say, surveying the old brick exterior of the building and the burgundy awning hanging over the open front door that bears the name of the restaurant, Palermio’s, in loopy, white script. “Sarah’s choice?”

Joel reaches his hand behind your dad’s headrest, using one hand to turn the wheel while he starts to squeeze his truck into the last snug parking spot outside of the bistro. “No, darlin’, I did.” You stare at his side profile as he maneuvers the truck, surprise lacing your features. It’s not until he’s parked the car and meets your eyes in the rearview mirror as he’s straightening out in his seat that you realize he’s bullshitting you.

“Asshole,” you mutter under your breath as you throw open your door and slide from the backseat, and he’s following you a second later.

“Y’know, you oughta be nicer t’me. I am your boss,” he says as you round his truck, his arm brushing yours, and you look up at him. “Could fire ya for bein’ disrespectful, ‘f I really wanted to.” You smirk at him and shrug.

“Ya could, but then you’d be losin’ your best employee, right?” His chest bounces as he laughs, and you smile at the pleasant noise before getting distracted by how his relatively new-looking cream-colored t-shirt bearing the album cover of Fleetwood Mac’s Rumors stretches tautly over the slopes of his wide shoulders.

“Damn right, lady,” he agrees, his gaze crawling over your body as he drags his thumb over his mostly pepper, slightly salt mustache that decorates his upper lip. Your skin crawls pleasantly as you feel him examining you, and you’re just about to reach your father, who’s waiting for the two of you by the entrance to the restaurant, when you hear Joel quietly say, “Prettiest employee, too.”

Your head whips around, feet planting on the concrete as you wait for Joel to say something, anything else. Much to your chagrin, he struts right past you shamelessly, heading inside as your dad gives you a confused look.

“You comin’, honey?” You shake your head, trying to dispel the medley of thoughts whirring around your brain. Did I hear him right? No, no, he didn’t mean that. Definitely not.

“Yeah, sorry,” you say, stepping inside with a sheepish smile in your dad’s direction. “Thought I heard someone callin’ my name, ‘s my bad.” Your dad just nods his head in understanding before draping an arm over your shoulder and steering you toward the back of the restaurant, where you can see Joel already greeting the members of your party who have already arrived.

As you draw closer, you watch him envelope his daughter in a firm hug, rocking back and forth for a few seconds as he whispers something in her ear. She giggles, punching him lightly in the shoulder, and when Sarah pulls back from his embrace, her deep brown eyes, which are almost identical to her father’s, catch a glimpse of you over his shoulder. Before you have a chance to react, she’s colliding with you so hard you grunt.

“You came!” she squeals, jumping up and down as you wrap your arms around her and giggle.

“Course I came, Sarah. Wouldn’t ‘ve missed your twenty-first birthday for the world, ‘re ya kiddin’?” She takes a step back, holding you by the shoulders before drawing you back in for another tight hug.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Jus’ didn’t know ‘f you’d be able to make it, didn’t know ‘f you’d have other plans or somethin’.” She bites her lip when you pull away this time, trying to hide the way she’s beaming at you, and a big smile paints your face.

“Nah, no plans more important than my best friend’s birthday.” She smiles and leads you back to the table, where your dad and Joel have already found their seats. You lean against her and whisper conspiratorially, “Did have to fight with my boss t’get some time off for the occasion, though. He can be a pain in the ass sometimes, like ya wouldn’t believe.” Sarah giggles, leveling you with a knowing grin.

“I’m sure I’ve got some idea,” she says as she takes her seat at the head of the table, and you slip around to take the only empty seat, which happens to be between Joel and Tommy, his younger brother that you’ve only seen a handful of times. You offer the younger Miller brother a polite smile, which he returns with a cheeky smirk before you turn back to the birthday girl.

“You’ve ain’t ever been that excited t’see me,” Joel says accusingly at Sarah, jerking his head toward where Sarah had practically tackled you, and you stifle a laugh at the hint of playful jealousy in his tone.

“‘s ‘cause I’m not a grumpy old man,” you snark, and Tommy guffaws beside you, reaching around your back to slap Joel’s shoulder lightheartedly.

“She gotcha there, big brother,” he says, accent saturated with his heavy Texas twang. Joel grumbles something incoherent and Tommy shoots you an amused wink. You watch your dad snort with laughter in his seat across from you, and Sarah’s boyfriend, Luke, who’s seated on her other side opposite Joel tries not to look too entertained by your ribbing of his girlfriend’s father, wisely busying himself with the menu.

A few minutes after ordering your drinks your waitress reappears carrying a large tray brimming with an assortment of alcoholic beverages. You take a sip of your Pinot Noir, hiding a small smile behind the fruity flavor as the waitress sets a large cocktail layered with green, white, and red liquid and adorned with a small Italian flag attached to a thin, black straw in front of a wide-eyed Sarah. You’re unable to mask your laughter, however, when Joel’s eyes find the massive drink and he nearly chokes on his sip of Peroni.

“Babygirl,” he sputters, still recovering from his small conniption, “that’s a lotta-”

“I’m twenty-one now, Dad, I can handle my alcohol,” Sarah assures him with an annoyed roll of her eyes and a look at you that says can you believe this guy? And it’s true, Sarah is more than capable of handling her drinks if the videos she’s shown you of her time at college are any indication.

“I know, jus’... jus’ pace yourself, yeah?” She concedes with a small huff, and you wiggle your eyebrows at her tauntingly.

“Yeah, Sarah, make sure ya pace yourself. Got a while ‘fore ya can hang with us big dogs. Right, Joel?” You elbow him in the side, and he looks at you disdainfully.

“You’re a little shit, y’know that?” he murmurs under his breath. You shrug, snagging a piece of fresh, warm bread from the basket the waitress sat in the middle of the table and dipping it in the plate of olive oil and seasoning before stuffing it in your mouth.

“Learned it fwom the besht,” you say merrily, grinning at him through your mouth full of food, and he sneers at you in disgust before turning his attention to your father and Tommy, who are in a heated debate over the Dallas Cowboys chances of success in the upcoming season.

“I’m tellin’ ya, Tommy, this s’our year! We jus’ picked up that kid from- from… aw shit, where’s he from again?” Your dad rubs his temples, hoping to dislodge the information from some small, dusty compartment of his brain.

“Notre Dame,” Joel chimes in as he reaches for his own piece of bread, and your dad snaps his fingers as his face lights up in remembrance.

“Notre Dame!” he bellows, and you shoot him a look that he promptly returns with an apologetic wince. “Notre Dame, yeah, s’right,” he says, quieter this time with a little smile, and you leave him and Tommy to continue their chat as you tune in to the conversation at the other end of the table.

“Anyway, Dad, so Becca-”

“Which one s’that?” Sarah looks at Joel in disbelief.

“Becca. Rebecca Landry. My best friend in high school, goes t’LSU with me, we lived together ‘fore I moved in with Luke…” Joel just stares at his daughter with vacant eyes, and you snort. “Dude, come on, ya literally grilled for her graduation party.” Joel shakes his head, taking a swig of his beer. You watch how his throat bobs as he swallows and quickly avert your eyes, hoping no one caught you gawking.

“Sorry, hon, doesn’t ring a bell.” She huffs, and Joel smirks, clearly just giving her a hard time.

“Whatever. Anyway, her boyfriend proposed to ‘er last week, and it was jus’ the cutest thing. Real private ‘cause y’know how she is. She told me they don’t have a date set yet, but they’re thinkin’ ‘bout next Spring. Said t’ask if she should add ya to the guest list.” Joel hums non-committally, clearly lacking an opinion on the matter, and you pinch his elbow. He jerks out of your grip, looking at you with annoyance, and you cock your head in Sarah’s direction. When he turns to see her expectant glance, he huffs, head leaning back as he stares at the ceiling.

“Tell ‘er I’ll be there,” Joel capitulates, and Sarah beams in excitement before giving you a grateful grin.

“Awesome! She’ll be so excited, she loves ya.” Joel crosses his arms over his broad chest, shaking his head slightly as he leans back in his chair and spreads his thighs farther. You have to try desperately to keep your breath from hitching at the action.

“Speakin’ o’ weddings and proposals n’ all that,” your dad says, giving Luke a friendly clap on the back. “When’s it your turn, buckaroo? ‘s been, what, three years of datin’? Gotta be soon, hm?”

Luke looks like he wants nothing more than to melt into a puddle and sink into the floor at the line of questioning, something your dad remains completely oblivious to. Feeling bad, you throw the guy a lifeline.

“Leave ‘im alone, Dad. Jesus, you ain’t even that interested in my love life,” you huff, sipping your wine. Luke seems to remember how to breathe, a look of thanks on his face as your dad scrunches his nose up.

“‘s cause I’m not. Don’t wanna know about some boy who’s wastin’ your time ‘cause he ain’t good ‘nough for ya.”

“Your daddy’s right, hon, ya deserve more than what some boy can give ya ,” you hear from your right side, and then a thick arm drapes loosely over your shoulders. You turn to look at Tommy, who’s closer to you than the last time you paid him any attention.

“Knock it off, Tommy,” you hear Joel grumble, and you watch Tommy’s eyes dart over your shoulder and narrow minutely. An expression of innocence plasters over his face to quickly replace the mischievous smirk previously there.

“Knock what off, big brother?” Your gaze shifts to Joel, and you nearly wilt at the stormy look he’s shooting his brother. His eyes are simultaneously full of emotion and totally unreadable, jaw ticking in… wait, is he jealous?

“Quit.” You bristle at Joel’s harsh tone, not realizing until it’s too late that when you shrink back at his timbre, you lean further into Tommy. You can feel the egotism rolling off of the younger Miller brother, and the tension building in Joel’s figure seems to grow until he’s at serious risk of snapping. You’re sure that the only way this ends is with Tommy making another haughty comment that results in Joel leaping over your lap and strangling the man…

“Alright, who ordered the lasagna?” Your waitress’ voice dissipates the thunderous air instantaneously, and everyone’s attention snaps to her. The wide, practiced smile she’s wearing falters for just a second, and she shifts uncomfortably. “I’m sorry, ‘m I interrupting somethin’?” The tight pinch of Joel’s face evaporates before your eye, and you watch, stunned, as he turns toward your waitress.

“Nah, darlin’, you’re alright. Reckon that’ll be mine,” he says, cool as clam. By the time all the food is dished out and you’re digging into your respective dinners, the near fight is long forgotten. Unfortunately, you’re not able to shake the bitter feeling of envy that twisted in your stomach at hearing Joel call the waitress “darlin’”.

Before long, all six of your plates have been cleaned, and each of you sits back in your chairs, thoroughly stuffed full of rich Italian food. Your dad belches, drawing a laugh from the other men at the table while your and Sarah’s faces pinch in distaste, and the casual conversation continues as the street outside grows raucous with the Austin nightlife.

Your dad, ever the chatterbox, is going on about some upcoming project at his contracting firm when you feel it: the firm weight of an arm draped over the backrest of your seat. You pay it no mind at first, chalking it up to Tommy’s touchy but harmless hands.

That is until you feel soft, gentle shapes being drawn into the bare skin of your bicep on Tommy’s side. Your brain doesn’t comprehend the logistics of this immediately, and your head snaps in Tommy’s direction to find the younger man’s attention focused raptly on your father with his hands in his lap.

Your back straightens, and goosebumps prickle across your skin when it finally clicks whose hands are on you; you slowly, inconspicuously face your father again, pretending like you’re listening so as not to spark anyone at the table’s awareness, all while peeking at Joel out of the corner of your eye.

At first glance, it appears that he, like everyone else at the table, is completely engaged with the words tumbling from your dad’s mouth. But you know Joel too well. You pick up on the slight quirk of his lips, the way his thick thighs spread almost obnoxiously wide so his knee grazes yours, and how he’s drumming the thick fingers of his other hand rhythmically against the table. Joel felt how your body reacted to his touch.

And he liked it.

That piece of information is what has the low burn in your belly from earlier in your bedroom reigniting, blazing up your skin and making your neck and chest flush a deep red. Joel must be able to sense your blundering state because he removes his hand from you altogether, causing your heart to drop. Your whole body begins to slump in disappointment just as you feel Joel replace his touch on the bare skin of your thigh, exposed when you sat down and the already short dress you’d thrown on in a panic earlier rode higher up your legs.

He squeezes you there, thumb passing back and forth lightly, and your thighs spread of their own volition to allow him more room. You can see his eyebrows raise slightly in surprise, but he’s able to play it off easily as a reaction to your dad’s story. You do the same with the small smile that stretches your lips as his hand begins to creep higher up your leg.

And it’s risky, what you’re doing. Allowing your dad’s best friend, the father of the girl you’ve lived next to almost your entire life, your boss, to inch his big, calloused hand closer and closer to where you want him most right here at this very public dinner.

And yet, you simply do not care.

Well, you don’t care until you feel the pad of his thumb brush your sex over your panties, and you jerk at the sensation, thighs closing to stop the movement of his hands. The action draws your dad’s attention to you, and his brow furrows as he scans your face.

“You okay, hon? You’re not lookin’ too hot.” Your pulse thunders in your ears as you fumble for an excuse.

“No, yeah, ‘m fine. Jus’... yeah, not – uh, not feelin’ too hot.” Everyone at the table looks at you with concern. Even Joel, though his eyes possess an air of arrogance at your state. The bastard.

“Babe, you can go home ‘f ya need to,” Sarah says, and your eyes go wide as you shake your head.

“No! No, ’m fine, really. I wanna stay for you, ‘s your birthday ‘n all.”

She waves her hand as though she’s physically batting away your excuse. “Party’s basically over anyway. Luke and I were gonna meet some friends at a bar a few blocks over anyway, so y’all are good t’go whenever.”

“Well, I’m ready t'head home now,” your dad says, beginning to rise from his chair. “Rangers game ’s on at 9, and 'f we hurry, I won’t miss more than the first inning.” Joel, reading your dad’s eagerness to get home as his cue to be ready to leave as well, stands, and you catch the way he subtly adjusts himself on the way up. You resign yourself to the fact that the fleeting, secret moment between you is slipping through your fingers, and, albeit reluctantly, you follow his lead.

Tommy’s still seated, sipping casually from his beer, when he informs your dad, “Nah, man, it’s Friday night in downtown Austin. Reckon y’all won’t get home ‘til the third inning, at least.” Your father curses, running a hand over his semi-bald head in genuine worry, and you almost have to laugh at the concern twisting his features into a grimace. The urge to laugh quickly fades as you watch Tommy shrug his shoulders and carelessly say, “There’s a place 'bout five minutes away, lil’ sports bar my buddies and I go to t’watch the game sometimes. Can get kinda rowdy, but you’re welcome to tag along, ‘f ya want.”

Your jaw almost falls off at Tommy, who’s completely oblivious to the bone he’s just thrown you. When you turn just enough to allow you a view of Joel out of the corner of your eye, you immediately notice his almost imperceptibly stiffer posture. You watch your dad’s face light up with excitement, a hell yeah on the tip of his tongue.

And then, suddenly, his expression drops and he’s looking at you guiltily. “Aww shit, Tommy, that sounds great, but ‘f this one,” he says, jabbing a thumb in your direction, “ain’t feelin’ well, I oughta get ‘er home.” Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

You go to object, to insist, practically beg your dad to take Tommy up on his offer so that it’s just you and Joel on the ride home, but Joel beats you to it. “Don’t worry ‘bout it, man, I’ll take ‘er.” For the second time in mere minutes, you’re filled with the overwhelming urge to gawk at one of the Miller brothers.

“You sure, Joel? Don’t wanna inconvenience ya or nothin’.” You watch Joel shrug, and then he turns to you, pinning you with an unreadable stare.

“Y’alright with that, lady?” You stare at him, speechless. Are you alright with spending the entire ride home, perhaps even longer if your dad stays to watch the whole game and Sarah is bar-hopping, alone with Joel Miller right after his hand was brushing against your wet, wanting pussy?

Yeah, you were pretty fucking alright with that.

Your silence must draw on for an uncomfortably long time because Joel raises his eyebrows at you, prompting an answer. “Yes!” you say, just a touch too loud, and you take a deep breath before turning back to your dad. “Yeah, sounds good – cool, ‘s cool with me.”

Your dad gives you one more half-hearted once-over, verifying that you don’t need his escort home, but he’s in a losing battle with himself; the moment that Joel offered his services, your dad was sold. The coy little, “Well, ‘f you’re sure it’s not too much trouble,” he extends to Joel is like a tepid stamp of finality as his mind is already half-full with Rangers jargon.

Joel gives your dad a nod before jerking his head toward the door. “C’mon, darlin’, let’s get ya home.” And you try, you really do try not to walk with your chest puffed out the entire way to Joel’s truck. You try to keep up the facade of illness that was brought on by your lustful tizzy.

But Joel called you darlin’, and fuck if it didn’t sound better falling from his lips when it was directed at you and not some waitress.

***

Tommy, for perhaps the first time in his entire life, was right; traffic absolutely crawled in the downtown Austin area at this time on a Friday night. You’d peeled away from the restaurant almost thirty minutes ago, when the sun was beginning its descent.

Now, the analog numbers on Joel’s dash blink 8:57 p.m. , the summer sky having just shifted from muddy brown to steel grey and will soon start to give way to the dark of night and the whisperings of stars, and you’ve just managed to make it out of the city.

Thirty minutes, nearly two thousand seconds, and each one totally void of speech. Joel stared straight out the front windshield, hands carefully gripping the steering wheel as you leaned your cheek against the cool glass of the passenger window and watched the metro landscape give way to soil and farmland, groups of clubgoers replaced by black and brown spotted cows.

It’s not until the current CD in Joel’s radio reaches its end and the gears click, switching to the familiar crooning voice of Bob Dylan, that your soft singing breaks the silence.

“What was that?” Joel asks, and you turn your gaze to watch him, focus still intent on the road in front of him.

“Nothin’, just singin’.” He looks at you then, just a quick glance in your direction, but it makes your blood sing.

“Y’like Bob Dylan? “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door”, hm?” You shrug noncommittally, and his responding smirk makes you sit up in your seat.

“What’re ya laughin’ at?” Joel just shakes his head, and you lean over and swat his bicep playfully. “What?”

“Nothin’, baby.” The word sounds perfect in his low, gruff timbre, and you grin stupidly. When he sees your expression, he reaches over and wraps his big palm around your knee, giving it a shake. “Got good taste s’all. Didn’t expect it from ya.” You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest and trying to pretend like the large spread of his hand over your bare skin doesn’t make your core throb.

“Don’t act so surprised, Miller. You should know better than anyone how much I like old shit.” He clucks his tongue, sliding his hand farther up your leg and squeezing your thigh in warning.

“Careful,” he advises teasingly, but you’re not feeling particularly cautious tonight.

“Says you.”

“Says me?”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no heat behind the action as all the warmth in your body is currently shooting to a spot in your tummy. “Yeah, Joel, says you. I wasn’t the one with my hands between your legs in the middle of dinner tonight.” You watch Joel’s posture straighten and you try to hide your grin at his reaction.

Bingo.

You bite your lip and watch his eyes dart in your direction. Even in the ever-darkening dusk, you can see the hint of hunger in his pupils. “Didn’t see you complainin’.” You adjust in your seat, and Joel’s hand slips higher, his pinky just barely dipping beneath the hem of your dress.

“‘s ‘cause I liked it,” you say matter-of-factly, and you watch him exhale heavily. His head swings lazily to look at you, eyes dropping to where his palm rests on your slightly spread thighs before traveling up to meet your stare.

“Yeah? Liked me touchin’ your pussy with all those people ‘round? Any of ‘em coulda caught us, pretty girl. Coulda caught me feelin’ how fuckin’ wet you were, soakin’ through your panties.” And you’re almost sure Joel’s trying to make a point in there somewhere. That what you two did was risky in and of itself, not to mention the fact that he was touching you like that in public.

And yet all you can focus on is that name. Pretty girl. You think it’s your favorite thing he’s ever called you.

When you don’t answer right away, Joel looks back to the road. You watch him check the rearview mirror, and then he’s making a left down a long road and parking the car on a small dirt pull-off a few hundred feet in.

You look around, surveying your surroundings; tall prairie grass decorates your side of the road while a large cornfield stretches over the side closest to Joel, and the only thing lighting the earth for a few miles in any direction is the soft glow of the moon overhead. When you focus your attention on Joel again, half of his face is shadowed while the gleam of lunar opalescence illuminates the other half.

Your breath catches in your throat at the sight, and you can’t help but stare. You reach toward Joel, cautiously at first, but emboldened when he squeezes your leg. You cup his jaw and rub your thumb over his stubbled jaw; his eyes flutter closed at the sensation, and you shuffle closer, Joel’s hand falling away from you as you sit up on your knees and reach across the center console to cup the dark side of his face with your other hand.

His palm finds a new position on your hip, and when his eyes open again, revealing his dark, chocolatey irises to you, your body leans closer toward his of its own volition. As if something inside of him, perhaps the very marrow of his bones, is magnetized to yours.

“Joel,” you say, soft voice cutting through the silence in the cab of the truck.

“Hmm?”

“Is this… is this bad? What we’re doing?’ His eyes dart around your face, taking in your heated gaze with a warmth of his own. He sighs as his other hand traces up the side of your body before slipping around your shoulders and resting on the nape of your neck.

“I wouldn’t say it’s good.” You nod, scratching your nails lightly through the salt-and-pepper beard he’s let grow.

“Should we stop?” It comes out as a whisper, laced with apprehension, tediousness, and want. So, so much want.

“Probably.” And he’s right. Whatever this thing between you and Joel is, it’s not feasible. Sure, it would be great. Amazing, even… until it’s not. Until the appetite for each other dies out and what’s left is a hollow skeleton of awkward encounters and forced conversation to keep up appearances.

Either that or the hunger becomes all-consuming, to the point where you can’t eat, can’t breathe, can’t sleep without thoughts of Joel dominating your mind.

And maybe that’s worse, you think. Finding out what Joel tastes like, what it feels like when he sinks into your wet heat, just for it to one day be stolen from you.

Because there isn’t an angle to approach this from that doesn’t end in the same unfortunate reality; Joel can’t be yours. He will never be yours.

And, so, yeah. You probably should stop. But as you go to pull away, to take your hands off of Joel and sit back in your seat while Joel returns the truck to the main road before depositing you safely at home like the good friend he is, Joel’s grip on the nape of your neck tightens. And then he’s tugging your mouth to meet his and your hands, still cupping his cheek, are pulling his face in to meet you halfway.

When Joel’s lips slot against yours, you’re surprised by how soft he is. Joel Miller, perpetually gruff and probably born with callouses etched into his hands, is so inconceivably gentle at the first contact of his mouth against yours. You sigh, breathing him in as he threads his fingers into your hair, and a moment of tranquility washes over you. This truck is the only place that has ever or will ever exist, and you and Joel are the only two people in the world.

You slide one of your hands from his jaw to his neck, stroking the solid strength of his throat, and a rough noise vibrates from him. You repeat the motion experimentally, and he groans into you, tongue darting out to politely ask for entrance into your mouth.

You accept with an enthusiastic moan, and that’s when the seemingly endless reservoir of Joel’s reserve drains dry. He licks into you, tongue caressing yours when you part your lips for him, and the hand in your hair tightens, keeping you held steadily against him. He feasts on you, stealing the air you breathe as he kisses you ferociously.

Joel sucks on your tongue when you go to mewl, and the sound is replaced by a wanton whine. You roll your hips over nothing, and Joel clocks the movement immediately. You feel his reluctance as he drags his mouth from yours, and you sit and wait, carefully assessing every minute change in his expression as you try to regain your composure.

You’re sure you’re supposed to be embarrassed right now, ashamed that you couldn’t keep your neediness in check. However, you can only think about two things: how fucking horny you are at the moment, and how that was probably the only time you’ll ever kiss Joel because this entire thing is about to come crashing down in short-lived, fiery oblivion.

But Joel does something. Something that really shocks you, leaves you vulnerable to attack and exposed right down to the root of you. He looks you up and down, from the slightly frumpled state of your green dress to the no-doubt wild gleam in your eyes, and smirks before saying, “You need t’be filled up, don’t ya, baby?”

You smile and nod, licking your lips as you appraise the man sitting in front of you. He’s so intoxicatingly broad, the sleeves of his shirt stretching tightly over his biceps while the legs of his jeans pull taut along his thighs. You shift in your seat again, causing Joel to pull you closer, and though you’re uncomfortably sprawled across the center console, you’ve never felt more right than you do right now.

Your lips are brushing Joel’s, so close you can feel the warm puffs of breath leaving his nostrils, and any slight surge forward by either of you would connect your mouths again. Instead, you stay like that, so close but still too far for your liking.

“Tell me what it is you want, sweetheart.” You angle your head, pressing a soft kiss to the side of his mouth before drifting your lips back to hover over his.

“Want your cock, Joel.” Your bluntness must take him by surprise because his head falls back against his seat and he groans. You take the opportunity to drop your lips to his neck, kissing it lightly before licking up the column of his throat and biting delicately at the junction where his neck meets his jaw.

“Yeah?” He takes one of your hands and drags it down his front, letting you feel the muted strength of his abdomen tailored from years of manual labor and the soft swell of his belly before landing on the thick bulge in his pants. You pull away from where you were beginning to leave a small bruise on his neck to look at where your hand cups his clothed erection, and you practically drool at the sight. “You want this, hmm?”

“Yes,” you confirm airily before your eyes snap up to meet his, heavy-lidded and clouded with lust. “Please, Joel, I- I need it.” He nods, the hand that guided yours leaving you to your own devices and drifting back up to rub his thumb over your lips. You take the opportunity to massage him through his pants, and he sighs, smirking at you.

“Tell me where ya need it, honey,” he lilts, and you grip his bicep as you squeeze his cock lightly. “Need it here?” He nudges his thumb gently between your parted lips, and even as you shake your head, your mouth opens to him, allowing him to push his finger inside. You swirl your tongue over the salty pad of his thumb, switching to mellow kitten licks before taking it deeper.

“No?” he asks, quirking a brow at you. He presses his thumb down against your tongue, and you open your mouth wide so he can see down your throat. “Gotta tell me where then, baby.” You close your mouth again, sucking on his thumb briefly before pulling off of him with a lewd pop.

Your eyes never leave his, and you watch them turn impossibly darker when you tell him earnestly, “My pussy. Want you to stretch my cunt with your fat cock.” He huffs lightly at the vulgarity of your words, and you squeeze him through his pants again.

“You’re a dirty fuckin’ girl, y’know that?” He looks almost in awe, and you smirk at him, beginning to crawl across the center console to straddle him. When he stops you with a hand to your sternum, you look at him in confusion. “We can’t tonight, darlin’. Wanna take my time with you when I fuck ya, gotta make sure I get ya ready.”

You’re so utterly disappointed you ache with it, pouting at him as you draw in close. “But I’m ready now, Joel. So fuckin’ wet for you, have been since the restaurant.”

He gives you a chaste kiss before pulling back and jerking his head toward your seat. “Show me.” You smirk as you slink back into your seat. You rest with your back against the car door, your right leg dangling off the seat while you tuck your left leg up and spread your knees farther apart, causing the hem of your dress to ride up your thighs until it’s brushing your tummy. You can tell by the wrecked look in Joel’s eyes that from this angle, he has a perfect view of the damp spot decorating the slip of pink lace that is your underwear.

“Fuck, baby, ya weren’t lyin’,” he mutters, fingers smoothing his mustache. “Pretty lil’ panties are soaked. That all for me?” You bite your lip and nod, pupils blown wide and eyelids heavy as you ghost your fingertips over the soft skin of your thighs. He makes a noise of appreciation as he watches your movements hungrily, fist clenching as your digits move closer to your aching core.

“Mhm, f’course it is,” you assure, letting out a breathless, needy gasp when your fingers brush your clit over your underwear. You’re sure you must look fucked out, and you’d be embarrassed by that fact if it weren’t for the heady look Joel’s pinning you with right now. You whine as Joel brings his hand down to palm the thick, rigid outline of his cock bulging against his jeans, and your mouth goes dry at the sight. You roll your hips and whine at the stimulation, doing it again without breaking eye contact with Joel.

He squeezes himself and groans as you rut slowly against yourself, dipping a finger down to tease at your soaking entrance over your damp panties, and he smirks. “You gonna show me how ya fuck yourself, baby? Show me how ya like it, hm?”

And you would. You really, really would. Except Joel Miller is sitting in front of you with nothing but a few measly scraps of fabric preventing you from his hard length, and you think that it would be such a waste to not take advantage of that fact.

Besides, you’ve already made yourself come more times than you can count with Joel Miller’s name on your tongue.

“No, baby,” you shake your head, and his brows pinch in confusion. You lick your lips, hand halting its ministrations as you sit up on your haunches and stare at Joel. “Want ya to fill me up.”

He huffs exasperatedly at that, and his tone is laced with annoyance when he says, “Jus’ told ya, ‘m not fuckin’ ya t’night-”

“Joel.” Your interruption shuts him up and he watches you lean in. You brush your lips over his, along his jaw and up his cheek before halting by his ear. “I want you,” you say, dragging a hand down his chest to rest over his in his lap, “to put your cock in my mouth and fill me up.”

You apply pressure down over his hand, making him squeeze himself and the sound he makes is something close to a growl. He angles his head so that your lips meet for a heated kiss and he licks into your mouth immediately, tongue dancing with yours.

“Yeah?” Joel breathes into your mouth, and the hand not palming his dick threads into the hair at the nape of your neck. He tugs, pulling your head back so that you look down your nose at him with wide eyes and heavy lids. “Ya wanna suck me off?” You smile almost shyly and nod, and he tuts at you, bending to kiss the hollow of your throat before licking a stripe up your neck.

“Don’t go quiet on me now, darlin’. You had so much t’say earlier, know this pretty mouth s’good for more than just takin’ my dick.” You whine, pressing your thighs together as best you can and rubbing, trying to give yourself some, any friction.

“Wanna taste you, Joel,” you murmur, already delirious and you haven’t even gotten your mouth on him. “Want it so bad, please.”

He rakes his eyes over you, takes in the needy glide of your thighs against each other and the ragged pants making your chest heave. He must take pity on your haggard form because he grins affectionately and releases his hand from your hair.

“Since ya asked so nicely,” he says, palm gliding around to sit on your shoulder. He strokes the column of your throat a few times, watching you with a hooded gaze before nodding toward his crotch. “Go on, baby. Show me how much ya want it.”

You don’t need to be told any more than that before you’re hastily undoing his belt, ripping it from his pants and tossing it into the backseat while simultaneously popping the button on his jeans. Where your movements are hurried and ravenous, Joel’s are soft and sweet; he strokes your back lightly, broad, calloused palm feeling heavenly as it tracks over your bare skin.

You lower the zipper on his jeans and he lifts his hips, allowing you to drag the coarse fabric down his thighs. It takes you a second after you’ve maneuvered his pants out of your way to realize you’re face to face with the stiff outline of Joel’s cock, straining against the black fabric of his boxers. Your mouth goes chalky when you see the small dot of moisture near his fat tip, and you can’t stop yourself from leaning over and pressing a kiss to the spot.

Your groan is in unison with his, and Joel must be growing impatient because his hand snakes up to gently cradle your neck. “Don’t be a tease, pretty girl,” he scolds tenderly, and the endearment causes you to look up at him through your lashes. What you find in his eyes is something lusty, full of desire and want and… pure, unadulterated awe. It makes your pussy flutter around nothing.

“Wasn’t bein’ a tease,” you say, bending back down to mouth at his cock over his boxers, and he moans when you lave at his swollen tip through his underwear.

“Nah, jus’ so needy ya can’t even wait ‘til I get my cock out t’put your mouth on it, hm?” You lick up his dick and feel it twitch, his thigh tensing underneath the hand you have braced there. You smirk, looking up at him as you dip your pointer fingers under the band of his underwear, hooking your digits and arching your eyebrow.

He acquiesces with a lazy smile, lifting his hips, and you slowly drag the tight fabric of his boxers down to where his pants pool around his knees. However, you don’t immediately look at Joel’s length after fully freeing it from the confines of his clothes. You’re not sure why a cool feeling of nervous anticipation washes over you, but you find yourself stalling, rubbing your thumb over the inside of his knee and kissing his thigh gently.

Joel, the attentive man he is, picks up on your nerves immediately. He massages the area where your spine meets your skull, and you practically melt at the feeling. “Y’okay?” he says softly, and you nod, turning your head to rest on his thigh. Your eyes avoid his dick, jumping up to land on his face. His expression is so kind, so compassionate and observant, that it makes you ache.

“‘m fine. More than fine, ‘m good. Great.” He nods, stroking your cheek before he frowns.

“Y’know, ‘f ya aren’t feelin’ it anymore, we can stop. We don’t have’ta-”

“S’not that,” you mutter, and he stops talking, waiting for you to go on. You inhale deeply, looking for the courage to speak your thoughts into the charged atmosphere of the truck. ��I jus’... don’t want ya to regret this.” He flashes you a perplexed look before tipping his head back and laughing. Your cheeks blaze with heat, embarrassment creeping in to tamper the fire of want, and you bury your face into Joel’s thigh to hide.

“Baby,” he says, and when you don’t respond, he grabs your jaw and makes you turn to him. “Baby. Look at me.” You stare, lip twisted in your teeth, and you can’t help but feel small under the weight of his gaze. He angles your chin down then, and you finally let your eyes fall, taking in the cock you’ve tried to conjure in your imagination while your fingers were stuffed in your pussy more times than you can count.

In a word, Joel Miller’s dick is pretty. Thick and long and tan. Veiny and girthy, easily the biggest you’ve ever seen. His tip, which is a few shades darker than every other part of his length, is an angry red, weeping precome from the little slit at the top. The thick weight of him bobs up and sits at attention against his belly, resting against him obediently. Your mouth pools with saliva at the sight of it.

Through the cotton in your ears, you can just barely make out when Joel says, “You tell me, honey. ‘s that look like regret t’you?” You swallow thickly and shake your head.

“N-no,” you stutter, sitting up slightly. You admire the way pearly beads of precome trail down his length and subconsciously lick your lips.

“No.” You can feel his stare on the side of your face, but you can’t focus on anything except the cock in front of you that has you drooling while your cunt begs to be filled. “Want this, sweet girl, jus’ as bad as you, and that ain’t gonna change tomorrow or the day after or next week. I want this,” he says, and he says it with such confidence and surety that you have no choice but to believe him. You nod, almost in a trance, before bending over and pressing a chaste kiss to his fat head.

He must not have been expecting that response from you because at the contact of your lips against his hard member, his head falls back against the seat and he groans, the sound drawing out when you start to press soft kitten licks to his slit.

“That’s it, honey – fuck, feels good.” You preen under his praise, smirking as you spread your lips to wrap around his tip. He hisses through his teeth, and the noise is all you need to start slowly working him down your throat. He’s so big, and even just the head of his cock has your jaw straining slightly.

You know that there’s no way you’ll be able to take him fully in your mouth, that you’ll have to use one, if not both hands to stroke the rest of his long, thick dick as you focus your attention on the head. But that doesn’t stop you from trying.

You pull off of him quickly, and he responds with a disappointed little grunt, mouth turned down in a depressing little frown. That is, until he watches you spit into your hand and place your palm around his base, stroking him slowly. A lopsided smile replaces his previous expression and when you twist your fist at the same time your mouth latches back onto his cock, he can’t help but jerk his hips. Joel’s thrust makes his tip kiss the back of your throat and it takes you by surprise, making you gag.

You watch his eyes go wide in worry as he immediately murmurs, “‘m sorry, baby,” his voice utterly wrecked. You lick from the space your fist occupies and swirl your tongue over him a few times, looking into his eyes as you catch your breath.

“S’okay, Joel,” you purr, lips against him as his cock twitches at the low cadence of your voice. “I can handle it, I won’t break.” And then you’re right back to easing him down your throat. Drool dribbles from your mouth as you work him in your fist, stroking and twisting and pulling while your tongue focuses on the sensitive area you’ve discovered just under his head.

The cab of the truck fills with the melody of your slick mouth sucking Joel off, punctuated by the sweet sounds falling from his lips. Joel isn’t a particularly talkative person, but you’re incredibly happy to find that all that changed when your head was bobbing up and down his length.

“Good girl, perfect fuckin’ girl,” he grits out, tightening his hand into a fist and slamming it against his window a few times as he struggles to keep his hips stationary. You hum around him, taking his hand in yours and guiding it to thread into your hair to encourage him to move. A throaty groan rips through him as he realizes what you’re asking, and he thrusts lightly into your mouth.

You relax your throat, allowing him to push deeper than he had been just a minute ago, and the feeling of being so utterly full of him makes you whine, shuffling slightly to relieve the pressure building at the apex of your thighs.

“Y’like that, sweetheart? Like when I fuck your pretty face?” The utter filth he’s spewing at you makes you gasp and whimper, and he laughs almost smugly at your reaction to his words. “Yeahhh, you like that. Go on, baby, touch yourself while you suck my cock.” You don’t have to be told twice, snaking your hand down to rub frantically at your aching clit while he slowly, gently jerks his hips into the tight, warm, wet vice of your mouth.

You feel yourself teetering on the edge of orgasm in no time, seeing as how you were already thoroughly worked up from your little display at the restaurant and everything that’s transpired in Joel’s truck since. Actually, if you’re being honest, you’ve been soaking into your panties since that stunt you pulled in your room before you even made it to dinner.

You feel stuffed to the brim, Joel’s cock hitting a spot in your throat over and over that has tears of pleasure dripping down your cheeks to combine with your spit lathering his cock. He brushes his big thumb over the path a tear careens down, brushing away the wetness as he drags his hand down to cradle your throat.

“Doin’ real good for me, doin’ perfect.” He squeezes lightly around your neck and curses. “Shit, darlin’, I can feel my cock right here.” He taps your throat and you whine, eyes rolling back as you rut desperately against your fingers. You’re so, so close, and you can tell that Joel is too by the way his tempered pace is growing more erratic, his shallow thrusts less controlled. The noises dripping from his lips to meet your ears are gruffer now too, words he’s failing to string into sentences as they're cut off by expletives and needy moans.

Joel looses a low, gravelly groan that signals he’s mere moments from reaching his peak, and you hear him choke out, “Where do ya want it, baby?’ just as the pull of pleasure burning in your tummy goes taut. You don’t answer, opting instead to simply pull off of him and seat your open mouth at the head of his cock, sticking your tongue out and looking up into his face. Joel smirks as you continue jerking him off with the hand not paying attention to your clit, but his smile falls into a slack-jawed look of lust as his balls pull tight and he comes.

The thick ropes of warm cum spurting over your tongue and decorating the inside of your mouth are just what you need to push you into your own climax; your legs shake and you let a high-pitched sound ring through the truck cab as your cunt clenches hard around nothing, wetness seeping from your underwear and coating the insides of your thighs.

Despite your own orgasm, you make sure to catch every last drop of Joel’s spend, holding it on your tongue for him to see. The space goes silent for a few seconds, both of you basking in your respective post-coital bliss as your eyes scan over each other. Your gaze hangs heavy as he takes in your sweaty, disheveled form languidly before landing back on your face. Joel shoots you an endearing, sweet look, before brushing the hair plastered to your sweaty forehead away from your face.

“Go on, honey. Swallow it f’me.” You do as Joel says, swallowing the sticky fluid he’s shot down your throat, and you find the salty, tangy taste surprisingly pleasant. You clean the corners of your mouth where some of his seed landed with your thumb and, with his eyes on you, push the digit into your mouth, sucking it dry. The dirty act makes Joel shake his head and chuckle, and once you’ve finished, you open your mouth and tip your head back to show him that you’ve taken care of his mess.

You both sit there for a while, just staring at each other with your head resting on his thigh as he strokes your cheek. You’d almost call the gesture loving, but you don’t want to be presumptuous. After a decent amount of time has passed and the stars have come to bear witness to your dirty deed, you turn your head and catch the pad of Joel’s thumb in a soft kiss.

“Oughta get back,” you say, reluctantly breaking the silence. He nods, and you stay like that for a second longer before sitting back in your seat. Joel starts the truck and traverses down the lonely path toward the main road. As he pulls back out onto the black asphalt, likely still warm from the summer sun that’s long disappeared, you can’t help but wonder if this moment will forever belong to the space between that long stretch of prairie grass and corn stalks.

You can’t help but hope that it won’t.

***

As Joel nears your development, you pull down the sun visor on your side and flip open the mirror. Your mouth falls open and a little gasp slips at the sight that meets your eyes. Joel must hear it because his gaze flickers in your direction.

“Somethin’ the matter?” he asks, worry lacing your tone, and you almost giggle at his concern.

“I’m a fuckin’ mess,” you groan, raking your fingers through the hair that Joel’s fingers knotted. Your lips are swollen and chapped, your eyelids heavy with the look of lust, and there’s a track of mascara streaking down your cheek from your tears. To put it bluntly, you look like you’ve been freshly fucked.

Joel looks at you again and barks out a laugh as he turns down your street; he pulls into your driveway and puts the car in park so that he can turn to you more fully. You’re frantically trying to will the bright blush on your cheeks indicative of sex from your cheeks as you wipe furiously at the now-dried trail of black mascara.

“Waterproof” my ass.

Your head snaps in Joel’s direction when you hear him chuckle again, your eyes wide with a plea for help. He shrugs, smirking slightly. “Better get inside ‘fore someone sees ya, or else they’ll know what we’ve been up to.”

You know he’s teasing, but his words make you deflate slightly nonetheless as they feel a little bit like he’s kicking you out; however, you steel yourself quickly. There was nothing for him to kick you out of, and it was silly of you to think otherwise. Sure, you’d just sucked his dick and made him come down your throat. And, yeah, maybe he’d almost gotten caught with his hand between your legs at dinner. But that didn’t mean anything.

Just two adults engaging in a casual hookup. That’s all.

Even as you try and convince yourself of this, your reasoning, and consequently your attitude, falls flat. You grunt with thinly veiled annoyance as you grab the door handle and make to leave. “Could’ve jus’ parked at your house, I woulda walked,” you mutter, irritation simmering in your gut as you go to open the door, but then a strong hand reaches across your lap to wrap around your hand on the handle and pull it back shut.

When you try again and are met with the same result, you huff and turn, coming face to face with Joel. His brows are furrowed and the corner of his plush lips are turned down. You hate yourself for wanting to kiss him right now, even though he’s actively telling you to go while not allowing you to do so.

“What?” you bite out, and it comes out harsher than you mean it to. He squeezes your hand, and you feel tension you didn’t realize was making your body go rigid ease.

“What’s a’matter, baby?” The pet name makes you blush, and now you feel even more stupid.

“Nothin’,” you lie. Rather convincingly too, you think proudly, until Joel cocks an eyebrow and informs you just how shoddy your facade is.

“Know ya too well t’believe that bullshit. Tell me what’s wrong.” You huff, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. You drop your hands into your lap, eyes falling to watch your thumbs twiddle. You don’t think you can look into those all-consuming brown eyes right now.

“Jus’... I dunno, bein’ dumb. Thought you were kickin’ me out or somethin’.” You shrug indifferently, and he sits there for a second, watching you fidget nervously. You see him scan your surroundings out of the corner of your eye, making sure no prying eyes are around, and before you can even react, Joel’s gripping the back of your neck and turning your head to meet his lips in a bruising kiss. You melt into him, sighing in relief at the feeling of his tongue licking the seam of your mouth.

You stay like that, greedily tasting each other. Or, in Joel’s case, greedily tasting the lingering flavor of himself in your mouth. He pulls back suddenly, chest heaving and eyes dark, and you lick your lips and grin at him.

“I’ll see ya soon, baby,” he says with conviction, and you nod slowly. But apparently your response isn’t convincing enough for him, because he pulls you in closer and says against your lips slowly, “I will see you soon.”

“Okay,” you breathe into his mouth, and he kisses you chastely once, twice before opening your door and tapping your thigh.

“Now get.” You smile, hopping out of his car, and you can feel his eyes on you the entire way to your front door. Even when you’ve disappeared into your house, you can feel the brand of his gaze on your flesh.

You watch through the window as he sits in his truck for another minute, and then he reverses down your driveway and pulls into the one next door, hopping out of his truck and leisurely heading up to his front door. You watch him walk into his house, and only then do you stop watching.

You’re not entirely sure how you get up to your bedroom, but you’re almost able to believe that you floated there like an apparition, head airy and thoughts bordering on dream-like. When you collapse on your bed, your mind is on the feel of Joel’s tongue in your mouth, of his cock thrusting into your throat, of what that same tongue and those same thrusts might feel like in your pussy.

What you’re not thinking about is how utterly fucked you are. You’d told yourself once that you wouldn’t be able to do a thing like this with Joel because you’d never have your fill, always wanting more after that first initial taste of him. But you’d gone against your better judgment tonight, and now that little crack of yearning had split into a yawning chasm of want; greedy and unsatiated and hungry.

Hungry for one thing, one person, one man: Joel Miller.

Yeah, you were fucked

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