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#but low enough I can’t actually make out the words
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Magic Man
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Summary: Elvis breaks in a virgin. Word count: ~2,200 words of pure, unadulterated smut inspired by this post. This is purely a work of fiction, and from what I have read of how Elvis actually treated his lovers in real life, is probably a lot less tender and loving than the actual Elvis would have been. But it's make believe and fun, so enjoy it! Warnings: 20 year age gap, dubious consent at some points, full intercourse, course language. Somewhat callous treatment of Elvis' taste for younger women.
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His bedroom is a gilded cage, dripping with excess and the stench of hedonism. Elvis's entourage has left them alone, finally, after weeks of teasing glances and knowing winks. Tonight, it’s just him and his prey—sweet little Molly van Patton. All night, she’s tried to resist, but his primal aura is too strong to deny. He’s charming. Dangerous. A seasoned, world-famous rock star. And she's just a 19-year-old innocent, trembling on the edge of womanhood. Just like he likes ‘em.
Their meeting felt like some sort of strange, cosmic joke. She wasn’t a fan, hadn’t even intended to go see his show. But her best friend convinced her, one thing led to another, and now here she is, somehow lying in his colossal bed like a tiny helpless creature, her presence filling him with a burning desire to crush and destroy.
Now, he traces his lips down her neck, pausing to nuzzle at the hollow of her collarbone. Sweetly at first, then more insistently as she drags long, jagged breaths. Molly can’t help but gasp under the full weight of him, her body opening up in ways she’s never experienced before. It’s heady and intoxicating and dangerous and delicious and—
Oh. Oh. 
Each touch sets off an electric current, making her arch closer. She runs her fingers through the thick hair on his chest, feeling the cool metal of his gold lion's head medallion pressed against her own breasts. But as he reaches for her waistband, she hesitates.
“Stop,” Molly trembles. Heat flushes her cheeks. "I’m not… I don’t…"
Elvis nuzzles her neck. His hand is dangerously close to unzipping her skirt. He’s in a taking mood tonight.
“Please,” she pleads. “Won’t they know what we’re doing in here?”
Elvis chuckles, a low, deep rumbling sound that vibrates through her very bones. “Baby, they don’t care. They’re probably already placing bets on how long you’ll last.”
Molly's heart plummets into her stomach. Of course they knew. All those knowing glances and hushed whispers, they’d known all along. Her face flushes and it's all she can do to grab her things and run.
But Elvis doesn't give her time to process this newfound knowledge. His insistent lips find her earlobe, nibbling it lightly as he whispers lewd suggestions she can't comprehend but her body understands. Against her better judgment, heat pools between her legs, and she bites back a moan of desire. 
"Just one more," Elvis purrs, his voice thick with want, sending shivers down Molly's spine. "One more’n I'll stop.”
But one more turns into two, and then three, and before she knows it, she’s powerless under him. She feebly attempts to push him away, but his strong arms grasp her tighter. His grip is firm but not quite enough to leave bruises. Not yet at least. But she knows it’s coming. Braces for it. His lips find her neck again.
The heat between her thighs grows unbearable, and she clenches them together, as if that could stop the freight train that is Elvis Presley. As if it could cool the fire raging through her veins. She’s never felt so alive, so free, so needed and… so scared, as she does tonight in his arms. But as he inches lower, kiss by agonizing kiss awakening something primal inside her, Molly panics.
This is really happening.
She’s about to give herself to a man she barely knows, a man nearly twenty years her senior. One who could crush her like a fly if he wanted to. Her heart kicks into overdrive, adrenaline coursing as she manages to shove him off. 
“No!” she cries out, the word catching in her throat. Molly’s outburst gives Elvis pause. Hurt and confusion flash across his face as he pulls back, propping himself up on one elbow. 
“What is it?” his voice is gruff but not unkind.
Molly turns her face away, cheeks flaming. How can she tell him? That despite her adventurous friend and all the talk, she's never actually… that he would be her first. 
Elvis regards her steadily. Impossibly long black lashes curtain the genuine concern in his eyes. Molly's pulse throbs in her ears. 
"Please don't make me say it," she whispers finally. Molly squeezes her eyes shut, willing the tears not to fall. But a single drop escapes, trailing down her cheek. 
"I'm sorry," she whispers. "It's just… I've never…"
Understanding dawns on Elvis' face. He brushes the tear from her face with surprising tenderness. 
"Never been with a man before?" he asks gently. 
Molly shakes her head, a furious blush creeping up her neck. She expects anger, derision, rejection. For him to throw her out and call for the next girl. 
But instead, Elvis tips her chin up to look at him. "Oh honey," he murmurs. "Why didn't you tell me?" 
Molly's breath catches in her throat as Elvis regards her with unexpected tenderness. His hands, which moments before seemed so insistent, now caress her face and arms with featherlight touches. 
"I was afraid you wouldn't want me anymore," she confesses, her voice barely above a whisper.
Elvis shakes his head, a sad smile on his lips. "Oh darlin', that don't matter one bit to me. I want you, Molly girl. I want to make you feel real good." 
He drags his thumb over her bottom lip and Molly shivers. She knows she should leave, should find Doreen and book it out of there before she does something reckless. But the way Elvis is looking at her, like she's the only woman in the world… it makes her feel powerful. Desired. Dangerous.
She... likes it?
"Just relax and lemme take care of you," Elvis murmurs, his breath hot against her ear. With that, the last of her resolve melts. 
His hands, knowing and sure, explore her curves, leaving trails of fire in their wake. She moans, melting into him, her body betraying her. She's scared, yes, but she's also aching for more. He senses her hesitation, easing her back even further, parting her thighs with a tenderness belied by the impressive size of his hands. His eyes are hungry, admiring the perfect, trembling creature before him. 
"You're so beautiful," he breathes, running a calloused finger along her jawline. His words were like sweet poison, both thrilling and terrifying. "Shh, baby," he coos, "I gotcha."
He kisses her, his lips firm yet gentle, as if he can taste her innocence. Her first kiss, her first everything, all with him. She was born for him.
*
His lips trail down her breasts, leaving a path of fire in their wake. Molly arches into the sensation, the soft scratch of his stubble against her skin. His hand slides down to her stomach, fingertips tracing the sensitive flesh just below her belly button. 
"Do you want me to stop?" he asks hoarsely. She shakes her head, unable to form words. "Say it, Molly girl." He presses a kiss to her hip bone, nipping lightly at it. 
"No," she gasps. "Don't stop."
He smiles against her skin. "Good girl," he purrs before lowering his mouth to where she's aching for him most.
His tongue flicks forward, teasing her entrance and Molly cries out, her fingers curling into the silk sheets. She looks down at him—somewhere down there—through one open eye.
"Is that what... are you supposed to be—"
Before she can finish her sentence, his hands grip her thighs. Fear and desire battle within her, but desire wins out as curious pecks and licks turn into long, languid strokes. Bracing himself, Elvis feasts on her, like she's the most delicious thing he's ever tasted. She finally opens her eyes and there he is in all his glory: lapping at her, coaxing the desire out of her body and onto his waiting tongue. Wave after wave of pleasure courses through her. "Oh God," she whuffs out, her head thrown back in ecstasy. 
Somewhere in the back of her mind, a voice wonders what everyone else must be thinking. But then Elvis's tongue buries itself deep within again, soft and wet, and all thoughts vanish into thin air. His hands grip the soft flesh of her hips, guiding her closer to him as he laps at her vulnerable center. She's never felt anything like this before, the pleasure so unbearable it hurts. 
"That's it, baby," he growls into her glistening pussy, "ride it out."
And she does. His tongue flicks and swirls, plunging inside her, mimicking what she imagines is his impressive length. 
By now, the whole house must hear her moans, but she doesn’t care. She’s coming undone whether she wants to or not, and she’s never felt more alive.
“Oh, Elvis,” she moans, her voice high and desperate, “Oh, I—”
Molly van Patton shudders and bucks against him, her first ever orgasm coursing through her body like wildfire. He doesn't stop though, not until she's sobbing and spent, her juices coating his face. He looks up at her through hooded lids, a satisfied smirk on his full lips.
“I ain’t done with you yet.”
*
He moves up her body, his manhood hard and throbbing against her thigh. Her entrance flutters in anticipation, and Elvis smiles at the sight. He positions himself there, large and intimidating. 
“Relax, li’l girl,” he whispers in her ear. “I’ll be real gentle.” Molly looks up at him, eyes wide, pleading. 
“You sure you want this?”
She nods dutifully.
“Say it f’me, now.” 
“I want you inside me.”
That’s all he needs. Before she can take it back, he slides in an inch, and then another. He’s so big, stretching her so wide she’s certain she’ll split in half. Certain he'll pierce her and she'll never be the same again. Tears leak from her eyes, mixing with the mascara from earlier.
“Shh,” he soothes, “I got you.” His accent is thicker than usual, sweet like molasses. Slowly, bit by excruciating bit, Elvis works himself inside her tight heat. Molly bites her lip to stifle a moan, but it escapes anyway.
At that, Elvis groans, and then he’s entering her more and more until he bottoms out. He's still for a moment, ensuring she can truly take in all of his length. “Tell me how it feels,” he grunts, as he slowly picks up speed.
“It hurts,” she pants out. But it’s a delectable sort of hurt. He’s filling her up in ways she never thought possible. Each thrust has her teeth bitting his shoulder tighter.
“I know, baby,” he coos into her ear, “but it gets better, I promise.”
And somehow, it does. The pain eases and is replaced with a delicious ache that has her hips rocking towards his.. Heat pools in her belly as he claims her with every thrust, like she was made for him and only him.
“You’re so tight,” he moans. “Made for me.”
It’s a mantra, a vow, as a he pistons in and out, breaking her in with every stroke. Her climax from before was nothing compared to this. She’s soon whimpering, clawing at his back, an evil sob stuck in her throat. 
"That's it, baby," he pants, "give it all to me."
Elvis pulls out swiftly, leaving Molly empty and aching. In one smooth motion, he flips her over onto her stomach. 
"On your knees," he commands.
Molly whimpers but obeys, presenting herself to him on all fours. Elvis groans at the sight, gripping her hips tightly. 
He enters her from behind in one powerful thrust. Molly cries out, the new angle allowing him to penetrate her even deeper. Elvis sets a ruthless pace, pounding into her relentlessly.
The sound of slapping flesh fills the air as he claims her, his fingers digging into her hips hard enough to leave bruises. He hits a spot deep inside that has Molly seeing stars. She pushes her hips back to meet his brutal thrusts, unable to get enough.
"That's right, take it," Elvis growls. His breathing is labored in her ear, hot and ragged. Sweat beads on his brow, dripping onto her shoulder blades, but he doesn’t relent. “You’re taking me so good. You love it, don’t you?”
She does. Oh, God, does she ever. Fuck it. If this was wrong, she didn’t want to be right. 
He keeps pounding into her, and it's dizzying and intoxicating all at once. The room spins as she clings to the headboard for dear life, his name a curse on her lips, a talisman against the building pleasure-pain coiling in her core. His pace quickens, hot breath on her neck, and his thick chest hair tickling her back.
“El… vis…” she mewls. “Right there!”
He obliges, his expert hands massaging her swollen clit as he pounds into her from behind. 
“Yeah, just like that,” he rasps as Molly bucks against him, working the length of his cock with her slick and pushing her hips back to meet his brutal thrusts, unable to get enough. It shocks him how quickly she took to his cock. Elvis’ fingers dig almost painfully into her hips, urging her on. “That’s right, take what you need.” 
"Elvis, I..."
The pressure builds, coiling in her belly like a spring. “That’s my girl, let it go,” he growls in her ear, and that’s all it takes.
Her body explodes into a million stars, tightening around him as she screams her release. Just like that, it hits her all at once—from heaven and hell itself, crashing over her like a tidal wave and even more powerful than the first. Colors dance behind her eyelids. 
Elvis’ nails dig into her back, and she can feel the delicious sting as they break the skin. “Unnngh,” he grunts, “I’m fuckin’ close.” The filthy words spur her on, and she clenches around him, the fluttering of her walls easing up, and suddenly she’s slowly floating back to earth and back to life and back to his gigantic bed in his gigantic mansion in Memphis, Tennessee. She can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything but feel.
He growls and buries himself even deeper, his thrusts erratic and desperate now. Harder and harder until he, too, splinters apart, shattering inside her like stained glass. He grunts, his release warm and sticky deep inside her.
Later, Elvis cocoons Molly in his strong arms and starts to rock her gently. As she drifts off to sleep, she knows there's no going back.
She's his now, body and soul. That’s the price she paid for giving in to her darkest desire.
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koiibiito · 21 hours
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GIRL im literally so happy i found you! i love the way you write smut 🥺❤️ not sure if you are accepting requests but i thought i’d ask anyway. would you write a soft smut piece with enzo? your writings always make my day fr and im hoping i could read a comfort piece ❤️
pairing: enzo vogrincic x reader
tags — nothing but some serious gentle loving from enzo.
a/n. AND IM SO HAPPY YOURE HERE pls know that U made MY day <33 as for requests, i try my best to answer reqs / asks chronologically :) i hope this is enough to be a comfort,, drabble? i’ll come up with an actual, gentle-and-romantic fic if you so wish 🥹
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sunlight trickles in slow, the faintest whispers of morning creeping up the window and into your bedroom. the last hints of night hug along the walls before disappearing quick, one by one into the sky, although your sleep has left you far before.
it’s quiet, delicately so, just the sounds of the sheets rustling and your sweet, desperate whines muffled into them, enzo’s hands so gentle against your heated skin. two fingers dip inside you easily, carefully scissoring you open like you’re made of porcelain; your heart stutters with every loving, warm kiss he presses against your shoulder.
mornings with enzo always start like this; syrupy sweet and slow like molasses, kissing with the light of the sun, but some mornings are special. some mornings start with teasing nibbles along the nape of your neck, a tongue pressed just below your ear, hands slipping low into your panties. some mornings he wakes up insatiable, sharp words, rough fingers leaving bruises on your hips, the heat of the moment in the air. but some mornings he wakes up just like this, soft and hazy like cotton candy, melting sickly sweet on your waiting, eager tongue.
he kisses a sticky-wet trail of kisses up your side, rubbing a little faster against your clit with the pad of his fingers; he’s needy today, wants to wring every pretty little moan he can from your lips. you oblige without hesitation, voice pitching higher and higher with every featherlight touch—his ears prick up delightfully red, a sleepy sort of pride in his face.
he lines up to your soaked cunt easily, guided by lust and sheer muscle memory, too busy pressing heated kisses to your sweet lips. he bottoms out slow, one arm around your waist, the other tangled in your hand; you wrap your legs high on his hips, drawing him closer, deeper.
“oh f-fuck,” you whine, voice half lost to a sharp whimper. your free hand finds its way to his hair, knotted in the dark locks as you arch up into him. you’ve been together for over a year now, but you still can’t control your moans and stammers.
“so good for me, baby, taking me so well,” his voice is low and rough and desperate in your ear, the telltale red to his cheeks visible as as he rolls his hips into you. quickening, steady thrusts rock you back into the pillows, enzo’s building desperation clear with every snap of his hips.
he bites down with another low growl, teeth marking your neck, shoulder, chest; you’ll be littered with love bites for days, something to make him blush every time you mention them. he’s sweetly territorial, a hand always low on your back when you’re out together, the teasing hint of a hickey poking above your collar from moments just like this.
you’re close without even realizing, walls clenching tighter and tighter until his leaning back, whispering sweet and gentle for you to “c-cum, princesa, cum on my cock like a good girl” and you’re gone, orgasm washing over you in heated, blinding waves. enzo just watches you, eyes wide and mouth wider as you make a mess of his cock, hips fucking up into you faster at the sight.
“f-fuck. i love you so much,” he moans into your ear, his hands pulling your thighs up higher as he presses against you as close as he’s able to. your fingers rake through his hair slowly, softly coaxing his orgasm out of him with every whispered praise that comes from your lips.
“i love you, i love you so much enzo, come for me baby, i wanna see you cum—” his pace speeds up almost painfully, hands so tight on your waist they’re sure to bruise as he finally cums, burying himself inside you as deep as he’s able. you sigh, high and sated and sugar sweet as he rests his head against your chest, eyes low with early morning sleepiness and a hidden, secret satisfaction.
“good morning, mi amor,” he hums, just before he kisses you slow and gentle like the just-rising sun.
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lovenotcomputed · 17 hours
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Lost Tides
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Summary: You thought accepting a new job and moving to an island would be fun and exciting, a change of pace, but when the locals fail to disclose some of the wildlife that lurks just under the waves, you find yourself with a pest taking residence on your lawn. 
Characters: Rodimus Prime, GN Reader insert, Original Characters for background.
Word Count: 1349
A/N: I might have a multi-chaptered fic at hand, and honestly as long as my brain doesn't decide to leave me it probably will have 2-3 chapters maybe more? Also, I'm actually kinda planning the plot and lore? WOW, that's a new one.
Without further ado, I offer you the first chapter of Lost Tides.
Please feel free to send me asks relating to this fic as I will try and answer them without too many spoilers :)!
The house would need much more work than you had initially expected. Storms had wrecked the little beach house. It was a miracle the locals even considered selling it to you, knowing how bad it was. The garage roof, or what little remained of the garage, was caving in, and the porch was another nightmare. But it was yours. In a collapsing economy, you had your own little home that had certainly drained your pockets for now. The beach was practically right at your doorstep and whatever prizes left within the house were yours to keep. The exterior was dark with bright turquoise lining some of the paneling on the outside. A turquoise fence was crumpled, crushed, and flattened as if some sort of creature had laid on it. You weren’t exactly familiar with the types of wildlife that thrived in these parts, but you certainly could shoo off some animal if it decided to come back. The house certainly had its character, but it would need work, work you were willing to put into it once you got a good long rest. Carefully you parked your ratty ‘07 jeep liberty right in front of the garage, if you drove over a nail you were going to be pissed. 
You heaved your backpack from the passenger seat onto your back, quickly making your way out of the night and into the house. The hardwood was weathered from time, with faint outlines painting where the lives had moved around the house long before. The paint of the walls was chipped and dulled from exposure to the elements, but further into the house the less noticeable it was. You crossed through the heart and soul of the home into the bedroom, dropping your bag on the ground with a relieved sigh. It was going to be a long night on the hard floor, but you would manage, and as soon as possible get some pallets and your mattress down while you waited for the moving company to hand over your stuff. 
 —-
The morning came crashing hard over you in the form of a stiff back. With no running water currently in the house or electricity, cold instant coffee packs were your hell in your new home. One day you would look back and laugh, maybe not for a few months, but one day. 
As you shuffled your way out from the shambles of the kitchen and onto the barley pieced-together deck, tired eyes had scanned everything that lay beyond your house except the location of the voice. The voice that spoke up was startling enough to wake you from your hazed state.
“Looks like the big fella’s chosen your jeep as his afternoon napping spot,” the man grinned, holding a box labeled ‘kitchen’ as he approached your house casually. 
You opened your mouth to respond, casting a glance towards your jeep as you went to dismiss his rambling, but any response died on your tongue at the sight.
A wall of scales and spiky spines colored all too terrifyingly like a lion fish was nestled on top of your car like it was the best mattress in the entire universe. The creature only let out a low rumbling noise as he continued to crush your car contently to your disbelieving eyes. The man chuckled as he dropped the box next to you. 
“Guess they didn’t disclose this in the sale? Why did you think the house was so cheap, kid?”
“Isn’t this a hazard?- I mean you can’t just sell a house that comes with some sort of cryptid bullsh-” the man raised his hand, quieting you quickly as the wall of scales shifted. A low growl echoed lowly in his chest as he settled back down.
“Best keep your voice down. Don’t think he’d do much, but rather not test him.”
With that, the stranger returned to the moving truck to retrieve more boxes, presumably, leaving you to stare in horror at your crushed car. The locals hadn’t mentioned a giant fish living on the island, nor had the relator disclosed it when you signed the papers. The mover man was acting like having a cryptid sitting on your front lawn was normal too. Baffled you quickly tailed the man as he reached into the moving truck.
“Why didn’t any of the locals I talked to tell me about him?” the man, or Phil, judging by the name printed on his jacket only huffed in response, shoving a box into your arms.
“Would you have bought the dump if you had known?”
That made your whole body freeze up. You most likely wouldn’t have bought the dump. A cheap house was one thing, a cheap house with a giant fish that could probably break you and your house was a whole other. Honestly, you probably wouldn’t have. Your heart plummeted realizing you had dumped money into the house and couldn’t afford to leave, you were stuck and probably out of a car.  Your eyes swept over Phil before darting over to the resting creature.
“Probably not.”
“That’s why they didn’t tell you, we need wreck divers here, and we warned ‘em bout big red over there and his pod, but they were too scared to stick ‘round for the big paycheck,” Phil spoke lightly as he moved over to your porch dumping the next box on top of your kitchen box. 
“ ‘sides, big red ain’t hurt nobody, it's the scarred blue and his mates ya got to worry bout.” 
Oh, there were more of them, many from how Phil phrased it, you had officially walked into a whole world of giant marine life somehow kept secret from outsiders of the island. You paused, not even knowing if you wanted to ask the question that was rolling around your head.
“How many of these creatures are there?”
Phil paused as if considering it for a long moment, he only shrugged, returning once more to the truck.
“Too many to count, they come and go often bringing more with ‘em, the main pods are pretty frequent for sightings though,” and with that Phil drove off, leaving you, your cold coffee, your many boxes of stuff, and giant fish lying on your car. If it wouldn't wake the bright red bastard you would probably have screamed, but you didn't want to toe that line. You need to assess the damage to your goods alongside your car. 
Moving everything into your run-down house was an easy task, you even found your trusty old cast iron skillet which had by some ungodly force been bent like a pancake. You didn’t ever want to meet the person who managed it. But seeing it had no other use, it was your perfect weapon against the behemoth cuddling up to your car. Armed with the bent skillet and a ladle, you moved toward the fish, banging your skillet and ladle together like a mad person.
“GET OFF MY CAR!”
A growl reverberated from the creature's chest as you woke him from his slumber, but you were unfettered, you had faced down angry Karens working minimum wage as waitstaff at a restaurant, and this couldn’t be much different. The creature shifted slightly, crushing your car further as he unraveled from around your vehicle. Twisting his form until he was towering slightly over you, you finally got a good look at your unwanted pest. Fins and spines flared, and your brain offered up alarm bells at the sight of an oversized lion fish. A snarl peeled across what you could only assume was a merman’s face. His blue eyes narrowed into slits at the sight of you, but instead of lunging at you, he slowly half dragged, half crawled back into the water, vanishing with a flick of his tail, sending water spraying all over your form. Giant scales had flaked off, littering the path he had followed into the waves, leaving you stunned at the sight of your crushed car covered in old scales. You had just faced down an irritated creature, and it had just left you unharmed. The locals certainly had some explaining to do, but you needed a drink and a good while to process what you had just done. 
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saetoru · 6 months
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imagine being fwbs with gojo n in the middle of folding you like a lawn chair he noses at your cheek n goes “hey do u wanna be my girlfriend?”
✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ BEST OF THE BEST — GOJO SATORU.
contents. fwb! satoru, fem! reader, minors do not interact, unprotected sex, mating press, creampie, non canon compliant (suguru and shoko are ur friend group >:( tyvm), very cheesy ending my b, yes i made a reference to this is where you’re weak, right? sue me, petnames (sweetheart, sweet girl, princess, baby)
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“bet you were waitin’ for this all day, huh sweetheart?” satoru always has a way with words—a very unique, special, and irritating way with words that routinely manages to get under your skin.
you would scoff—in fact, you would call him quite a colorful variation of words if his thick cock wasn’t pressing comfortably against your sweet spot.
so instead, you gasp a quiet, “f-fuck—right there.”
“yeah, i know,” he chuckles, “this is where you need me, huh? where you’re weak?”
you can’t do anything but whimper at that, hands wrapped tightly around him as they claw into his shoulder. he always wears the marks you leave like a good sport too—shows up to the gym in a tank top that shows them off good and well, right for suguru to see them clear as day. you almost block satoru right on the spot when he sends you a selfie in the mirror, showing off the angry marks with a wink following.
it’s a bit of a predicament, fucking your high school friend and not letting anyone know. the idea of shoko and suguru finding out that every other night, satoru is in your bed as his cum leaks out of your abused cunt is enough to make you nauseous—but never nauseous enough not to open the door for him.
the most unfortunate fact you’ve learned in your life is that satoru knows how to fuck—in fact, he knows how to fuck you well enough that you let him come back. it’s a bit shameful, really, the way you let him knock on your door, the way you open it and let him in, the way you actually fuck him and let him sleep in your bed until the morning.
and then (because he’s an asshole) he wakes up, gives you a sly wink, and murmurs i’ll be back soon, yeah? keep that bed warm for me, sweetheart.
“c-close, toru—‘m gonna….gonna—”
“gonna what? cum? already? barely even fucked you yet,” he hums, hooking your leg over his shoulder before all but pressing you in half. you mewl at the way his tip brushes past your folds and splits you in half—deeper this time with the new position. “look at that,” he coos, staring down at the way his cock slips in and out of you, “takin’ me so well, sweet girl. i think you can go a bit longer, don’t you?”
“m-more, more—need—”
“i know, i know,” he grins, “need me to fuck you dumb, don’t you? don’t worry, princess. i’ll give you more.”
his hips snap into you, pelvis rocking against yours as his pre cum and your slick mix, making a mess between your bodies as it coats your skin. you gasp, pulling satoru closer as his head falls to tuck into your shoulder, his labored breaths fanning against the shell of your ear.
“‘s good,” you whine, “f-feels good, toru.”
“yeah? feel that? squeezin’ me so tight, i can barely move,” he groans, letting out a sweet, low sound into your ear that has your spine shivering—you think you could come undone from that, from the sounds he makes as your walls flutter around him.
you think everything about satoru is enough to send you over the edge, from the sound of his voice to that pretty face of his when he spills into you.
you know he’s close—you can feel the slight twitch of his cock as his pace gets sloppier, as his thumb finds your clit and rubs desperate circles into the sensitive nerves, as he practically presses your knees to your shoulders and bullies his throbbing cock deep into your dripping cunt. and you’re close too, head spinning as your eyes flutter shut and your lips part with a broken wail.
“c-close—‘gonna cum, toru,” you gasp, voice coming in labored pants as his breath hitches.
you look perfect like this—like you’re his, like your body was made for him to touch in sinful ways, like it was his cock that was always supposed to fit into you and make you fall apart. his hand grabs yours, and without thinking, both of your fingers interlace.
“baby,” he hums, his nose pressing into your cheek as he kisses the skin softly, “‘m gonna make you mine, yeah? wanna be my girlfriend? my sweet girl? you want it, right?”
you should be shocked—you should stop and ask him what he means, what he’s playing at, what he thinks he’s doing toying with your mind.
instead, you gasp, pulling him closer as your walls spasm around him, back arching and eyes rolling back as the coil in your belly snaps and you cum. hard. harder than he’s ever made you before. does the idea of being his really do that to you? does the idea of being his sweet, precious girl outside of your bed at night really send you hurdling over the edge like that?
evidently, it does—and your high sends him right into his own. like he needs you to fall apart so he can too, like the way he knows you feel good makes him feel good too. maybe he does want you, maybe it’s not a sick joke. the way his voice cracks with a strained call of your name certainly says as much—the way his hand tightens its grip on yours, the way his hips rut desperately as he presses impossibly closer, the way he presses hot, scattered kisses along your cheek and jaw as he groans through his release.
it’s messy. it’s filthy. it’s downright dirty the way satoru fucks his cum into you, letting it drip down your thighs and mark your skin—but it feels like being his.
you think you might want that.
he’s gentle when he finishes—carefully unhooks your legs from his shoulders before running a hand along your thigh and squeezing as he observes the cum dripping between your legs. you huff when he collapses over you, glaring at him as his weight presses onto your form.
“you’re heavy,” you grunt, smacking at his shoulder.
he hums, nose pressing to your jaw as he kisses it. “not moving till you answer me.”
“satoru, don’t joke about—”
“how rude,” he gasps, “you think i would joke while i’m balls deep in—”
“oh my god,” you groan, covering your face with your hands, “please stop talking.”
he grins, chuckling as he shuffles up to bury his face into your neck, pressing a gentle kiss to the skin. “you don’t wanna be my girlfriend? that’s gonna hurt my feelings, y’know.”
satoru has always been like that, wearing an easy grin and plastering that playfulness on like a second skin. you can hear it though—the slight unease in his voice. you can’t fathom letting everyone know that sometimes, you let satoru fuck you…but maybe knowing that sometimes, you hold hands, and maybe kiss, and perhaps snuggle on the couch, and potentially even share a bed to sleep, not just fuck, but sleep—maybe they can know that. 
that doesn’t sound so bad. 
“that depends,” you hum, pretending to think, “how good at being a boyfriend are you?”
“excellent,” he plays along, “best of the best.”
“that’s just big talk. you could be lying for all i know,” you point out—but your fingers slip into his hair, twirling the sweaty strands along your fingers. 
“well, you’ll just have to let me prove i’m a good boyfriend—so that means i have to be your boyfriend. sorry, it’s the only way.”
if satoru hears the giggle you try to hide as you sigh exaggeratedly, he doesn’t mention it, lips pulling into a giddy smile as he pulls his head out of your neck and presses his forehead to yours. your hands cup his cheeks, squeezing gently.
“i guess if this is the only way,” you shake your head theatrically, “you can be my boyfriend. for now.”
“i’m grateful,” he snorts—and then there’s a peck to your lips. one, two, three gentle kisses before he presses a lingering one. it’s sweet, and slow, and just a bit needy as he presses deeper into you. “now i can tell suguru the scratches on my back are yours. he’s been asking a lot.”
leave it to satoru to speak and ruin the moment just by opening his mouth.
“satoru,” you hiss, throwing him a sharp look, “i think you’d be a better boyfriend when your mouth is shut.”
“then i can’t kiss you,” he gasps, “that’s the best part of being my girlfriend.”
and just to prove it, he kisses you again—and maybe, although you hate to admit it, he’s right. it is the best part. 
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i wanna be his girlfriend :(
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backwzzds · 4 months
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ೃ⁀➷ love me, connie springer (nsfw)
thinking about babydaddy!connie fucking you nice and slow after finding out you got stood up by your date. having little constentina (his idea, but tina for short) for the weekend, your precious angel just couldn’t keep her mouth shut to her daddy when you’d told her you were going on a small ‘dinner’
“she said dinner but that really means date, daddy.”
connie isn’t surprised. no one knew how to handle you beside him. i mean, he’s had your ass in place successfully for nearly ten years; only he was man enough to handle you, your mind, and most of all your body.
you loved connie like no other, you wanted no one else to be the father of your children. but you knew the streets would eventually take him away from you, and you just didn’t wanna stick around for that. not when you had a five year old girl depending on the both of you. connie looked for other ways to make bread without selling or doing anything…illegal but it was hard to match the stacks he was bringing home every weekend.
your separation was a one sided agreement anyways it seems. to you? you two were broken up. to connie delulu ass? you were his wife and you’re ‘smoking dick if you think ion belong to you and you’on belong to me.’
you didn’t even have any words for the absence of your so called ‘date.’. after an hour of waiting, you figured you’d call in to check on tina. ringing connie, your babyfather answered on the first ring, of course with a wood in his mouth and multiple lights on his face, signaling he was watching tv.
“hey,” your voice is solemn and low. you really were tired and ashamed to say anything more.
“hey mama, you okay?” connie’s hazel brown eyes quickly flick over to yours through the screen.
you shrug though he can’t see it. “i’m okay.” you admit. “just callin’ to check on my baby.” the frame was only on your face, but from the small shake of your hand, connie had managed to get a glimpse of a pretty black dress you’d sported, breasts looking three times as big as it usually did because of your sitting position. he could tell you dressed up for the night.
“yeah? she good, just upstairs sleepin’ right now. how was your date, pretty?” you hear connie turn down the tv in the background and give you his full intention.
you furrow your brows. “what? boy, how’d you know about it?”
your baby father blows out a huff of smoke and chuckles, flashing his gold canines. he wasn’t gon snitch on his lil informant princess. “i got my ways. tell me bout it baby.”
with a roll of your eyes, you let out a tired sigh and felt your shoulders sag. “wouldn’t know. the nigga never showed.”
connie furrows his own thick eyebrows. “what you mean? he told you he couldn’t come?” he asked. from the shake of your head, you see his face soften on the screen. “come over n’ smoke with me. lemme make you feel better.”
you kiss your teeth and throw your head back, already knowing where the conversation was headed. embarrassment flooded your expression. “you eating my pussy is not gonna make me feel better, constance.”
connie kissed his teeth and waved you off dismissively. “you’on know that.”
a blush can’t help but creep its way onto your brown cheeks. “i’m supposed to be staying away from you, ya know.”
connie gives you a knowing grin, shamelessly flexing the two deep dimples in his cheeks that constentina inherrited from him. “yeah? how’s that going for you, mama?”
“obviously not good because i’m actually considering your offer of being a booty call tonight?” you laugh.
“come onnn mama, tina’s sleep, i got a wood rolled for you and i want you here.” your ex compromised with a kiss of his teeth. “lemme rub ya feet and all on ya butt i promise you’ll feel better.
“i’m tired and don’t feel like driving, con,” you whine in the same tone. you knew if he didn’t have your daughter he’d already be at your door, but you refused to risk waking her up in a car ride over here.
connie rolls his eyes and puts you on pause for the moment. a minute later he comes back on screen and takes a pull of his backwood. “your uber on the way baby.”
“ooh daddy,” you cried, trying your hardest to breathe straight. “you know i cum fast like this, oh shit,” connie had your legs spread wide open, forcing your huge tits up against the bottom of your face as he pumped in and out of you.
“you like that mama, like when i fuck you nice and slow? all romantic n’ shit?” connie teased. tears streamed down your face and he wasted no time in kissing them from your pretty face.
you’re too far in euphoria to even fully comprehend exactly what he’s saying. “yes, i love when you stroke this pussy so deep daddy.”
connie holds your breasts up damn near to your face and takes his time sucking on each of your nipples, making sure to stretch and pull it all the way back as far as it could go, grinning at the sound of it snapping back toward you. “you’on need no one else to love you like this but me, you heard?”
you can’t help but shake your head, the small responsible part of you left that hadn’t been fucked out by connie yet (though he was close) was slowly bringing you to reality. “no,” you respond.
“nah, nah, dead that shit or imma stop,” your ex threatened, straightening his back out so he stood tall, yet still very deep inside your gummy walls. you can’t help but stare down the tattoos that littered his body; many dedicated to you and your shared daughter. “you grippin’ me so tight baby, boutta make me cum, fuck,” connie throws his head back and whines. “tell me you’re mine n’ we gonna get back together.”
“no, con,” your words were saying one thing, but the cream ring of your arousal forming around connie’s tanned dick was betraying everything leaving your mouth. “w-we’re we’re toxic—oooh, yes, right there right there!”
suddenly, a large pair of hands come to wrap around your neck, gripping lightly. “tell me you’re mine or im not fuckin’ this pussy,” he orders. “you know i don’t be bluffing, mama. ‘specially when it come to your spoiled ass déjame oírte decirlo.”
more tears fall from your eyes as you feel your lower region bubble in evstasy. “con—“
“say it if you wanna cum.” connie’s grip around your neck tightens as he inevitably starts to babble. he was not gonna let up off you no matter what. “come on mama, say it n lemme give you another baby. gonna make you a mama all over again, want you so full of my babies, pretty—fuck,” he breathed out. “you know daddy sorry, you gonna forgive him?”
it wasn’t until connie started to add his thumb rubbing circles around your clit did you finally fold and give in. “oh fuck, yes! yes yes i forgive you con—please—“
“go head and cum mami, te quiero.” connie breathed out, feeling his own orgasm approach. “te amo joder joder por favor dame más hijos mami te estoy rogando déjame correrte dentro de ti,” the man curses into the atmosphere as he strokes himself in you a few more times.
“yes yes,” you nod in response to his pleads of cumming in you. a nanosecond later, connie’s cumming deep into you until he ends up shooting nothing but blanks. you’re full to the brim to the point where drops of his cum couldn’t help but ooze out between your puffy cunt.
“dio mio.”
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rowarn · 2 months
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first i would like to formally apologize.......also first time trying hybrid au so i humbly apologize if it's not as good as other people's!!! first time for everything and all that!!!
hybrid!au, angst, hurt/comfort but also hurt/no comfort, VERY mean!simon, cat hybrid!reader, dog hybrid!soap, owner!simon
part 2 !!
Simon who has retired from the military and decides to get himself a hybrid companion. Even though he doesn’t want to admit it – he’s grown lonely. He doesn’t have any family and all the socializing he did was in the military and he doesn’t have that anymore. So he decides to look into finding something to fill that gap in his life. 
Enters Soap – a young hybrid who once upon a time worked for the military just like Simon. The pup got injured in action and was forced to retire. 
Simon figures the two of them will fit together quite well. 
And he’s right! The two of them get along swimmingly. And it turns out Soap is very good for Simon. The endless energy the hybrid had (despite his injury) forces Simon to actually leave the house multiple times a day instead of hiding inside until he drives himself stir crazy. 
Now, he has to take Soap out for walks, runs, and even takes the hybrid to the park so he can run around with other hybrids and play catch with Simon. Soap LOVES it when Simon throws the ball as far and fast as he can so Soap has to spend several minutes hunting the little thing down. 
Simon actually finds himself feeling…happy. For the first time in a long time. 
Soap carves out a space in Simon’s life and the Brit is more than happy to let him take up as much space as he needs. He adores Soap. He knows the two of them are going to be companions for a long, long time. 
But then on a routine nightly walk, Soap freezes at the entrance to an alleyway, ears perked and alert as he hears something Simon can’t. His tail stops wagging and his blue eyes work to pierce unblinkingly into the inky depths of the alley. 
And that’s how they come across you; a skittish cat hybrid with no home to call your own.
Soap is ecstatic. His tail starts wagging so hard that it actually hurts when it hits Simon in the leg. 
The pup begs Simon to bring you home. He wants a hybrid friend of his own! Something ugly and dark works it’s way into his chest when he hears that – was he not enough for Soap like Soap was for him? 
He tries to tug Soap away by hooking his fingers into the leather collar around his neck but the hybrid doesn’t move, simply staring with a grin at where you sit on the ground in the alley. 
Simon doesn’t like cats. He doesn’t want a cat. And just seeing you makes him frown. 
When he finds that he can’t get Soap to move, he starts bargaining. He swears that they’ll look into finding a nice dog hybrid for Soap!! Stll, it doesn’t work. The dog hybrid has got his heart set on you for some reason. 
And that’s how you find yourself living in his home. And he’s not happy about it. 
You glare at him any time he has the audacity to walk into any room you happen to be in in his OWN damn house. It pisses him off. 
He doesn’t like you. And he makes it abundantly clear any time he sees you with the way his lips curl up in disgust. He shoos you away like you’re a nuisance even when you’re just lounging in the warmth of a sunbeam through the window. 
Where Soap eats borderline gourmet, he usually just slops some random low-quality hybrid food down for you. Sometimes, if he’s feeling particularly resentful, he doesn’t even let you eat at the table with him and Soap. 
But Soap adores you. The pup gets so excited to see you whenever he gets home from a walk or a day at the park. He hunts you down immediately wherever you may be just so he can excitedly tell you all about what happened outside – the birds he saw, the hybrids he played with, what he ate. 
And you listen intently. You’re not one for many words, Simon notes, but he often finds you muttering barely audible things to the other hybrids. You’ve never spoken a word to the human. 
Simon doesn’t know why that upsets him too – it’s not like he wants you to talk to him. He just thinks it’s disrespectful of you to ignore the man giving you food and a roof over your head. He also thinks it’s fucking disrespectful of you to steal his hybrids heart the way you have. 
The longer you’re there in his house, the more Simon hates you. Annoyance morphs into despising you. He’d have thrown you out back onto the streets by now if he could get away with it but when Soap wasn’t by his side, he was by yours. 
It ticks him off when he walks into a room and finds you purring happily with Soap curled up around you, big burly arms holding you snuggly against his chest as he snoozes. 
Simon didn’t even bother naming you, Soap’s the one who picked something to call you. Simon usually just gruffly calls you ‘cat’ if he needs to speak to you – which he makes it a point not to do very much. 
You still don’t speak to Simon. Even when he ‘forgets’ to feed you, you don’t say a word. You don’t complain or seek him out for something to eat. You just choose to starve. 
He wonders if you hate him as much as he despises you. 
And you and Soap remain the best of friends. The pup is always yapping happily to you and you’re always listening. 
As time passes, you even start to follow Soap around. It no longer seems like one-sided adoration. 
You love Soap, he brightens your day and makes you happy. You want to be around him all the time. You never thought you'd like a dog but Soap was just so sweet and kind that it was impossible to dislike him -- even when he ruthlessly kissed your face all over and pinned you down so you couldn't escape just so he could give you all the affection he wanted. You never got mad, never showed your claws (in fact, you were extra cautious of your claws with him). You slept with him whenever he wasn't busy snuggling with Simon -- and you'd never dare interrupt the two of them while they were having quality time together!!!
And that also makes Simon furious. Because Soap is his. How dare you have the audacity to think Soap is yours? Simon has put so much love and effort into his relationship with Soap and you prance in with your stupid fluffy tail and little purrs and you’ve got the dog-hybrid wrapped around your finger in no time. 
God, he hates you. 
It seems like everything comes to a head on a rainy day. The rain always makes Soap hurt, his old injury and joints act up. It leaves him docile and sometimes a little cranky. 
He had been a little short with you all day and that hurt. You already dealt with your owner, the man who took you in, refusing to show you any kindness, and now the one companion you had would barely look at you. 
It wasn’t your fault you didn’t know how much pain Soap suffered from. You loved the rainy night, it was perfect weather to snuggle up to your favorite hybrid and snooze away. 
You found Soap, sprawled on his back on the couch, eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed, you didn’t think anything of it. You crawled onto the couch, intending to snuggle in right beside him. 
But when you put the tiniest bit of your weight on him, his blue eyes popped open and a loud yelp erupted from his lips. You startled, hissing as your tail puffed up and fuzzy ears pinned back. 
Soap practically lept from the couch to get out from under your weight, hitting the floor with a loud thump that had him whimpering softly to himself, curling in on his side. 
Simon was storming into the living room not a half second later – finding his beloved pup curled up whimpering and shaking and you, ears pinned, tail puffed, and taking up the spot Soap once was. 
Simon didn’t care what had just happened – all he knew was what it looked like; like you had pushed the poor pup off. 
Because to him, that’s what cats were; vile, selfish, mean little shits. 
You were dragged to the door and tossed right out into the rain without a second thought. Before you could even get your wits about you, the door was slamming in your face and you were alone. You sat on the step for a long while, shivering from the cold rain soaking your thin clothes, just waiting for the door to open again. 
But before you knew it, the lights inside were turning off and you heard the front door’s deadbolt slide into place. And you were still outside, alone with nothing to your name but an old t-shirt that you had stolen from Soap. 
Simon hadn’t even bothered to get you clothes of your own. Or a collar like Soap’s – one with Simon’s name and number on the back. You had always wanted a collar like that but you knew Simon didn’t care about you enough to even consider you his own hybrid. 
You tried your best to stay out of his way and stay quiet and as small as possible so he wouldn’t grow angry or uncomfortable with you. You didn’t ask him for food when he forgot or get under his feet like Soap did. You tried your best to be good and hoped that someday the human would come around but as the days passed, you knew that it wouldn’t happen. You still did your best to not make trouble for him though. 
It seemed he was just waiting for an opportunity to get you out of his house. 
Your tummy growled, reminding you that you hadn’t been able to eat dinner yet. You stood from the front step and wandered down to the sidewalk, bare feet splashing in the puddles, taking a last glance at the now dark and still house you called home for many months. 
With your head hung low, you made your way back to familiar areas where you knew you could dig through trash to find at least something so you wouldn’t sleep hungry tonight. 
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princessbrunette · 29 days
Text
🎀≽^• ⩊ •^≼୧ ‧₊˚
rafe wasn’t a big sweatpants wearer.
he liked to think of himself as matured, classy, reeking of money. sweatpants was something he associated with being a slob, lazing around, not getting off your ass and working. that didn’t mean he didn’t own a few pairs— you know, for sleeping, lounging, etcetera.
because of his dislike for the garment, you’d rarely see him in anything other than work slacks or kook-y board shorts, which is why when he brushed past you in the hallway of tanny-hill, wearing grey sweatpants and a black tshirt — you were lost for words.
“wh—where are you going?” you all but mewl, quietly padding behind him as he frantically searches the bowl placed on the chest by the door.
“uh, gotta run n’see barry— the fuck are my keys? you seen ‘em?” he stressed, itching his forehead as he thinks about where he might’ve left them.
“no, uhm… you’re going out dressed like that?” you ask.
grey sweatpants — a grown man’s lingerie. with each step rafe took, it became abundantly clear that he’d skipped out on boxers today, something he never did, true lazy-day style. his dick print hung heavy in the centre below the draw strings, thick and causing a bump in the soft fabric. he glances down at himself upon following your gaze and shrugs obviously.
“laundry day.” he stops his search to face you properly, eyeing you where you stand. “the hells with you, seem all out of it today.” his voice is low and tired, and you can’t help but bite down on your glossy bottom lip, stepping towards him. you say nothing, staring up at him— and he stares back, eyes vacant and lips parted. you stand on your tip-toes and kiss him.
he kissed back, albeit confused— and as soon as you pressed your body to his, feeling his bulge right on your tummy — something took over you. it wasn’t enough that you were ovulating, the sweatpants were making you feral.
you quickly pull away to sink to your knees, a hand stroking his hip bone as you start to leave kisses to his clothed cock, the meat of it instinctually hardening beneath your trained touch. he smirks for a moment in disbelief, watching the way you mouth at him — humming like you were the one being pleased.
“alright, hey— i get it. ‘think sarah’s home. you—you want her comin’ down the stairs n’seeing the shit? stand up, kid.” he reluctantly reprimands you, giving your jaw a firm little tap but you only whine and pull him closer— your open mouth breathing hot air onto his growing erectjon, flat of your tongue pressed to the soft fabric between loving kisses.
“s’okay dad just wanna give you kisses.” it comes out muffled, distracted, like you don’t actually know what you’re saying. he licks his lips irritably at you not listening, eyes fluttering before he grabs your jaw, pulling you up to stand.
“i said alright. easy, yeah?” he warns once he’s closer to eye level with you, still gripping your jaw. you grin, all slick-lipped and glassy eyed.
“can’t go out anymore daddy, not like that.” you point to his crotch, your mouth having darkened the light grey fabric all around his hardened bulge— making it obvious something had gone down. it was true, he couldn’t go out like that. barry was always looking for new things to tease rafe about, and this would be giving him perfect ammunition. he presses his lips together, nostrils flaring before he lets go of your face, the same hand reaching round to the back of you, grabbing the back of your little booty shorts and yanking, using the momentum to spin you suddenly to face the same way as him.
as soon as you’re facing the other way he slaps your ass, before prodding at your shoulder — signifying for you to walk toward the stairs. “shit, little brat. start walkin’, think you owe me something.”
you giggle, slowing your pace like you were gonna come back with another retort but he simply gives your shoulder another little shove — practically bullying you. “said go, didn’t i?”
🎀≽^• ⩊ •^≼୧ ‧₊˚
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whiskeynwriting · 1 year
Note
PLSPLSPLSPLS WRITE FOR VENOM I WOULD ACTUALLY COMBUST
I meannn... if you insist.
Mine Tonight
Eddie/Venom x Female Reader
Word Count: 2.1k
Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI)
Jealousy/angst, established relationship, dirty talk, size kink, spit kink, dacryphilia, mentions of spanking, some sadism, mentions of oral sex (m and f receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, monster fucking, mentions of anal sex, mentions of aftercare
A/N: I would like to apologize to the monster-fucking community for any and all judgement I may have harbored. I get it now. I so get it now.
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He likes it; likes to hear your frantic fucking screams when he shoves himself inside. Likes to hear and see you cry, watching your body take him. Likes when you wrap yourself around him in your shivering human skin only to fall back down when he presses himself to your chest. The way you move is mesmerizing; he likes to see you crumble and fall apart because of him. Because he knows it's him, it's him.
He's consumed by it, his mind forgetting the part of Eddie that keeps him alive. When he's like this, when you're like this, it's only you, only the two of you. You're the only thing that makes him feel alive and worth it because you're his to attack and wreck and fucking ruin. And at the same time to keep. To keep safe and happy and sane.
"V-Venom," You cling to him, or you try to, anyway.
"Venom." It's a soft word, the way it's spoken, the way your croaking voice breaks when he shoves himself in to the hilt.
Eddie gets jealous. He doesn't like seeing Venom like this, but at the same time, he understands. You're not just his, you're theirs.
"Tiny," He growls, his tongue flailing out before falling onto your face, capturing your jaw and licking up the side of your cheek.
There's drool and sweat and cum, all over your face and neck, your body. You can't tell if it's his or Eddie's but it's likely both.
"Tiny, little thing." He says, the words a low vibrational hum through his chest. "And so very good."
His words make you whine, taking the breath from your lungs, or is it the bulk of him throbbing inside? Your eyes shut, head pressing back into the pillows at the top of your bed. Back arching, Venom’s claws curl around your midsection, holding you up, holding you close. You’re fisting the bedsheets, the pleasure he brings overwhelming your body. 
It’s the flop of his tongue on your face again that prompts your lids to flutter, drunken eyes opening to stare up at him. Milky white orbs, the tears in his head that resemble eyes, cloud your vision. The roughness of his tastebuds drag across the skin of your cheek, the tip of his tongue sliding gently across your lips. And while holding his direct gaze, you open your mouth, welcoming it in. And as soon as it is, your mouth closes, sucking on it. 
Again, you can’t help but close your eyes, feeling his thrusts slow to sensual and deep ruts directly into your pelvis. The growl that emanates from him is ungodly, otherworldly, the rumble of it shuttering through your body. 
Some days, Eddie wanted you to himself. Other days, they wanted to share you. And just as often, Venom claimed you for his own. This was one of those times. 
Eddie found himself envious, angry, almost. Even if he allowed his symbiote this time with you, it wasn’t always easy. But he’d be damned to deny it didn’t turn him on. Watching you react to Venom was breathtaking. Sucking on his tongue the same way you’d suck on Eddie’s cock, your body writhing beneath the bulk of the slick monster taking over his body. 
Venom retracts his tongue, nudging the smooth slope of his forehead over your cheek. Lowly, he grumbles, “Eddie misses you…”
Smiling languidly, your hands find the monster’s shoulders, nails dragging hard enough to force another noise from him. “Does he?”
He doesn’t answer you directly; Venom also was not immune to jealousy. “You are mine tonight.”
“I know,” You’re sighing, but a sharp whine is punched from your throat when he snaps his hips against you. “Venom!”
“Say it,” He demands, handling you roughly once again. “Say it to me - say it to Eddie.”
They were both protective over you. And while they were technically one, they sometimes couldn't help but want you to themselves. Truthfully, you loved it, reveled in it. Sometimes, making one of them jealous was exciting. 
Grinning widely, you open your eyes, looking up at your enormous lover. And you know you’re looking at Eddie now. 
“I’m Venom’s tonight.” 
It makes Eddie’s blood boil with rage. You can almost feel it. 
An enormous groan erupts from Venom’s throat, his tongue diving into yours. You feel like you can't even breathe, your body bursting to its limit. And he feels so differently than Eddie. He’s bigger, thicker, veinier. 
You’re gonna fucking break her. Eddie can’t keep himself quiet inside Venom’s head. 
“Good.” Verbally, Venom responds, the word quick to come out. But you whine when his tongue is gone, prompting the dripping wet muscle to slide back into your mouth.
Seeing you give into him like this was incredible, indescribable. Venom loved to hear your cries, loved to feel the slick suck of your cunt when it tried desperately to take him in. After so long, it wasn’t as difficult. Not when he’d licked you raw, not when his tendrils slithered up your stomach to pluck at your nipples. 
You are such a giving thing, such a patient thing, so eager to comply and give Venom what he wants, anything he wants. His size and strength made you wet just from looking at him, how could you not give in? 
At first, your tears were from pain. Sometimes, it really hurts, fucking stings, especially when he’s pounding directly into your body. But it’s not long before that rush of pain turns into sweet, debilitating pleasure. 
He doesn’t mean to, but he scrapes you, his claws digging in enough to just barely draw blood. He’ll lick them later, caress you with his tongue while he holds you in his arms. After you had sex with Venom, your time with him didn’t stop there. He’d stay out long enough to cuddle you, hold you, care for you. He was always so grateful for this special time he got to spend with you, with only you. 
Venom’s drool drips into your face, his tongue slithering out of the hot cavern of your mouth. You’re gasping for air, fisting the bedsheets when he’s too far away to reach. Angling himself downward, the thickness of him splits you apart, his claws holding the bowl of your pelvis up for him. 
“V-Vee,” Your hand reaches out, palm pressing limply against the bulging muscles of Venom’s lower stomach. 
Immediately, an extra tendril is on your hand and curling around your wrist. In the blink of an eye, he’s slamming your hand into the bed and away from his inky skin, his grunts becoming more animalistic. 
“You know better.” Venom hisses, eyes squinting at you. 
The first time he fucked you, he was surprisingly gentle, almost timid. He didn’t want to hurt you. But now? He loves it; he loves leaving marks on you, stretching you wide around the girth of him until you’re crying, licking your cunt until it’s puffy and raw and reveling in the way you scream until your voice is hoarse. 
You’ve been with them long enough to know what to expect. Eddie likes when you’re on all fours, using his dominant hand to press your face into the bed. He’ll spank you if he’s worked up enough, but more often than not, he was fairly gentle, and always passionate. Making you cum was a must for him, whether it was on his cock or his fingers, he didn’t care. And neither did you. But Venom? Venom was… different. After that first time, he was rough, rough like he hated you. It’s always missionary with him, he likes watching your face crumple with pleasure, your body seizing up around his thick waist and pelvis. This way, he could lick you, too, and he loved to lick your face. It was almost like his version of kissing, his version of admiring you in the most feral way. 
But when they’re together, they overwhelm you. Eddie is always between your legs, fucking you brainless while Venom’s tendrils slide between your cheeks. It took a while to open you up back there, but Venom was patient. He always is. And then he’d snake a couple toward your tits,  pinching your nipples while another rubbed your clit. And Eddie would kiss you breathless, swallowing your moans while you laid there, suffocated by the two of them. 
“Oh…” He’s growling, his chest heaving. “Can you hear it? Can you hear it, you little thing?”
“Hm?” You’re whining, gasping when he hisses above you. 
“Listen to it,” And then his tongue is roaming the column of your neck, spit dripping over your open mouth when it retracts. “Your body, it’s opening up for me…”
“Venom,” 
In truth, you’re the light of his life, of their life. It would be meaningless without you. 
“Please.”
“You want it, don’t you?” The wet noise of your colliding sexes continues to fill the air, the loud squelch of your welcoming walls. “Don’t you?”
“Yes!” It comes out as a wail, your back arching up from the bed. Using your dominant hand, you lift it over your head, placing your palm against the headboard. 
Everything feels raw, you’re aching. He’s been ruining you for hours, literal hours, soaking your bed with every ounce of wetness the two of you have. You can feel him in your stomach, you’re sure you can. He’s grown in size since the first time, his head constantly tilting down to watch you stretch. 
After he receives your answer, he’s fucking you like he’s gone mad. Leaning over, he towers above your pliant and sweaty form, slamming himself into the delicate channel between your legs. You’re shocked you’ve been able to withstand him for this long. 
“Venom, baby…” Smoothing your hands over the bulk of his shoulders, the firmness of his back, you coo to him. “Baby…” 
It’s one of his weaknesses, something you like to pull out of your back pocket every now and then. It’s such a simple word, one used commonly in relationships. But to him, it was special. Eddie was always babe, but Venom was baby. 
“Oh…” He’s faltering, breaths rough and right beside your face. “Sweetling…” 
Toward the end, he was always soft with you. When his high finally came, he held you like you were his precious thing, his reason for living. 
At first, you were extremely curious about this, having sex with an alien. How did that work… biologically? But honestly, it’s not much different than any other human. And you suppose that’s because of Eddie. The way Venom cums is generally the same, his white release spilling into you. He has so much more than Eddie, though, so much so that it leaks out from around his member every single time. Sex with Venom was always messy, always, but you really didn’t mind. 
His body shudders above you, the incredible strength of his arms holding you tight. He’s licking your throat again, tongue rolling up to your jaw. He can smell the arousal seeping from your pulse points, and it only makes him cum that much harder. 
He’d only allowed himself release after giving you yours. But one wasn’t enough for him, it had to be at least two, if not three. And he hit that lucky number tonight, his entire pelvis sopping wet from you. 
The white noise ringing in your ears shields you from the incredible groan he releases, his head resting right beside your own. Grinding himself in to the hilt prompts your legs to open almost as wide as they possibly can, your muscles flexing for him. You’re breathing out choked gasps, feeling him knock your cervix whenever he’s like this. 
“Oh my go-od,” 
Venom groans, his body shivering one final time. But he doesn’t leave you, he stays pressed against your body. 
“Mm…” He growls quietly, purring. Turning his head, he knocks his forehead against your jaw; a loving gesture. “Eddie is wondering if you are alright.” And then he’s smiling, chuckling. You smile too, exhaling an airy laugh. The way Venom handled you always made Eddie nervous. 
“Yeah Eddie,” Nodding, your hands find either side of Venom’s face, simply caressing him. “I’m okay.” 
With a refreshing inhale, you express genuinely, “I love you.” 
The connection you have to them can’t be broken, it just can’t. You’ve been with them for too long, you’ve experienced too much. 
“We love you, sweetling.” He’s purring now, the vibration rolling pleasantly through your body. Curling inward, he holds you even closer, his breathing becoming steady. “We do.”
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valeskafics · 1 month
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"Finer Things" - Daemon Targaryen x Lannister!Reader
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a/n: SO this is a little pick me up fic for my darling @dreamfyre03. you'd requested a ye olde bimbo fic a while back and i hope this one (which i combined with an anon request for daemon stealing otto's betrothed) is able to make you smile love 🩷
Summary: When Daemon meets you, Otto Hightower's sweet and innocent betrothed, he knows he'd do anything to have you for himself.
TW: profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, afab reader, infidelity technically not really, semi public sexual encounter, fingering, breeding kink, dirty talk
Word Count: 2,255 words
Rating: 18+, MDNI
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.
Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷
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Daemon has no interest in meeting you at first. The second wife to be of Ser Otto Hightower, his grandsire’s Lord Hand. A spoiled Lannister brat, no doubt, with your nose in the air and head in the clouds. Lannister women are always too pretty, and they always know it, he thinks. You, with tales of your beauty having spread around the realm, are likely no exception to this rule. He begrudgingly follows Viserys and Rhaenys to the courtyard, where you, your father, and your younger twin brothers are to be greeted.
The moment he sees you emerge from the wheelhouse, Daemon knows his life is forever changed. You are unlike any of the ladies who flock to his side in the capitol, unlike anyone he’s ever seen before. There is an innocent air about you, a naivete that he finds intoxicating. He watches as you greet his grandsire and grandmother, then his brother and cousin. Finally, you approach him, a sweet smile on your face as you greet him with a low curtsy.
“Prince Daemon. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
His eyes are filled with an intense curiosity as he eyes you up and down for a moment too long before quickly nodding and taking your hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it.
“You are as stunning as they say, Lady Lannister. In fact, the tales I have heard of your beauty have not done it true justice.”
You let out a soft laugh, a lilting sound that has Daemon wanting nothing more than to hear it again as you reply, “You are very kind, Your Grace. I only hope my betrothed feels the same as you do.”
Your words hit the prince like a slap to the face. Your betrothed. Yes, that’s the reason you’re here in the first place, isn’t it? To wed that slithering serpent Otto Hightower. A woman like you deserves so much more than to be the second wife of that unfeeling cunt. He won’t let this happen. He can’t. Not when you could have so much more. Not when you could have him.
“Ser Otto is a lucky man,” Daemon allows a pregnant pause before continuing, “However, my lady, the Lord Hand is old enough to be your father. Surely such a match is… Well, pardon my frankness, but inappropriate.”
You give him a small smile, and instantly he can tell that even if you don’t say it openly, you agree with his words. Good. The foundation of your relationship is already shaky. A few well timed blows will be enough to break it entirely. Daemon offers you his arm as he escorts you inside the Red Keep, listening as you speak in a hushed tone, admitting what he already knew.
“In truth, I’m a bit anxious, Your Grace. The man is old enough to be my father.”
“Then, my lady,” Daemon leans in, whispering in your ear as he escorts you to your guest chambers, “May I ask if you were to marry anyone in the realm, any man of your choosing, who would you want?”
You shy away slightly at the question, a sight which intrigues him greatly as you mumble, “Oh, goodness. I don’t know, actually. Truly, I don’t know many people outside my own house. My own immediate family, really.”
“What about me?” Daemon teases, growing impatient now in his desire to have you, to steal you, “Would you want me?”
“Well, I’ve only just made your acquaintance, Your Grace…”
Such an adorable little thing you are, barely able to meet his eye. He wonders if this is the first time you’ve been in such close proximity to a man outside of your own family. Judging by the way you react to the tiniest of gestures, he’s quite sure it’s true. Your footsteps and Daemons’ echo along the stone corridor as you walk through Maegor’s Holdfast.
“And if you knew me better?” Daemon questions, his voice full of excitement as he gives you a cheeky smile.
“I… I believe I hear my septa calling for me-”
Before you can get too far, Daemon catches you by the wrist, stopping you gently. You gasp softly, lips parting in surprise as you turn back to face him, gazing up into his lilac eyes. The two of you stand close to each other, almost inappropriately so. Daemon’s gaze moves downward, admiring the rise and fall of your chest as you breathe, the way your breasts strain against the bodice of your dress. You’re so beautiful. So ripe for the taking. A lady of your beauty, your kindness and innocence, you don’t deserve to be the second wife of a second son. You deserve a life of luxury. You deserve nothing less than Prince Daemon.
“Please, allow me to walk with you until we reach her?”
You nod slowly, taking his arm again, the two of you continuing to make your way through the Keep. The silence is not uncomfortable, but there is certainly a tension between you two. What kind of tension it is on your end remains to be seen, but judging by the way your eyes dart over to take in Daemon’s side profile every few minutes, he believes your thoughts of him to be favorable indeed.
“What is Casterly Rock like, my lady?” Daemon asks, noting the way you glance around the corridor at everything, taking it all in, “I have heard the Westerlands are quite beautiful, though I’ve never had the opportunity to visit myself.”
You immediately begin rambling to him about how wonderful the Westerlands are, how calm and temperate. Daemon loves the way you speak, your voice so gentle and yet so vibrant and full of life when you speak on things that interest you. He listens intently as you describe your home, growing up there with your little twin brothers, the shining sun and green grass as far as the eye can see. And when you suggest that he visit there when he is able, he gives you a little smirk.
“Oh, do I have my lady’s invitation?”
Daemon wonders if you know how beautiful you look with your lips parted in surprise at his forwardness. He wonders if you know how much he longs to gather you in his arms and kiss those sweet lips, to touch your soft body, to run his hands through your hair. But he must bide his time. He must make sure that when he takes you that the two of you will not be interrupted.
Or that if you are, it is by the right person.
So, he escorts you to your septa, giving a low bow at the waist, before declaring that he looks forward to seeing you at dinner that evening.
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Daemon watches you intently as you try to make conversation with Ser Otto. You are so sweet and gentle, and so very naive as you try to ask about his taste in music, in fine art. But Ser Otto has no appetite for the finger things in life. Not like Daemon does. As far as Daemon is concerned, all Otto cares for is the advancement of his own family at the expense of everyone else’s. He’ll likely breed you then toss you aside when he has no further use for you.
Daemon, on the other hand? He would keep you by his side. His precious, innocent lady wife. He would treat you like a princess, the way you’ve been treated your whole life. Otto doesn’t know how lucky he is, being betrothed to a woman like you. And he is never going to know what it is like being married to you. Not if Daemon has anything to say about it.
You seem so dreadfully bored, that he has no choice but to come to your rescue. You’re busy poking at the venison on your plate, an adorable pout on your face when he comes to you.He has no doubt in his mind that you’re terribly disillusioned with the utter bore your betrothed has turned out to be. Daemon rests a hand on your shoulder, startling you ever so slightly as he leans in to whisper in your ear.
“Have you heard of my family’s tapestries, my lady? As a patron of the arts, I believe they would be of great interest to you. If you are finished with your meal, perhaps we might go and view them in the gallery together?”
You smile at him brightly, “Nothing would make me happier, my prince.”
The two of you make your way to the gallery, and Daemon presents the first piece to you. A nude woman being embraced by a dragon, its body coiled around hers. He half expects you to be disgusted at the sight, but instead? You gaze upon it serenely, almost thoughtful as you question him what he believes it represents.
“Passion,” Daemon murmurs, “Fire.”
“I agree,” you smile at him, “You are an artist at heart, my prince.”
“Perhaps one day, I could paint a picture of the two of us like this, my lioness,” he teases, reveling in the way your lips part in shock at his forward nature as he leans in close to you, one of his hands caressing the side of your face, “Have you ever had a man desire you before, Lady Lannister? Ever felt his lips upon your own? That ache between your thighs as your fingers wander late at night and you fantasize about his body on top of yours?”
You shake your head, your voice trembling as you whisper, “I… I cannot say that I have, Your Grace.”
“Hm,” Daemon hums, his free hand grabbing you by the waist, pulling your body flush up against his, “Otto Hightower is a fool. You are a goddess among women. The Maiden in human form. And you ought to be worshiped like a goddess. You ought to be kissed every minute of every day along every inch of that perfect body.”
You gasp softly, melting into his embrace as he holds you close, pinning you against the wall. Your fingers twist in the fabric of his tunic as he brings his lips close to yours, his breath hot against your face as he whispers.
“Let me teach you what it is to be loved by a man, my lioness. What it is to be loved by a dragon.”
“But there are more tapestries…” You reply breathily, glancing down the hall.
“You don’t truly believe I brought you here to look at those, do you?”
His lips come crashing down against yours, and just as a dragon would, Prince Daemon seeks to devour you. The sweetness of your lips against his, the way your body curves against his and fits so perfectly… It’s enough to have his cock straining against his breeches. You cling to him, your soft whimpers spurring him on as you kiss him back feverishly. Daemon’s fingers tangle in your hair, tugging gently. He chuckles at the soft moan you let out at the feeling, his hands moving lower and lower, lifting the skirt of your dress enough to slide his hand beneath your small clothes.
The prince cups your mound, fingers collecting the wetness that has pooled between your thighs from his kiss alone. You stare up at him with wide eyes as he pushes two fingers inside you, curving them slightly. Your wet heat squeezes his fingers as he moves them in and out of you at a languid pace, admiring the way your face twists in pleasure at his ministrations.
“Keep your eyes on me, sweet girl,” he murmurs, “Let me teach you what true pleasure is. This is only the beginning. I have so much more in store for you.” You let out a mewl of his name, the heel of his palm pressed against your swollen pearl as he fucks you with his fingers, “I’ll taste that sweet, wet little cunny of yours. And then, on the night I wed you, I’ll breed you. I’ll keep you a maiden till then, tease you until you beg for me. You’ll beg for my cock, my fingers, my tongue, anything I’m willing to give you. I’ll spill my seed inside your cunt and your belly will grow round with my babe. I’ll breed you on our wedding night and every night thereafter.”
Daemon grins at the way your body tightens at his words, the effect he has on you being so very visceral in nature. He knows you’re close, judging by your heavy breathing, that glazed over look in your eyes, your lashes fluttering as he rubs against that spot deep inside you. The one you’ve always shied away from and never touched, the pads of his fingers moving against it furiously until you cry out his name, spilling yourself all over his fingers.
The two of you return to the dining table, flushed, sweaty, hair in disarray. Ser Otto stares at the two of you suspiciously, especially when you gasp as Daemon licks his fingers clean.
As far as anyone at the table knows, he was merely savoring the food he just ate.
But in truth? The Rogue Prince is thinking about the meal he’s going to have every night for the rest of his life. For he has every intention of stealing you away tonight to Dragonstone and wedding you in the tradition of his ancestors.
He, unlike Ser Otto, knows how to appreciate the finer things in life.
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alwaysshallow · 3 months
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Isa baby please can we have ghost be told NO for some work stuff by higher ranked! Reader and him to be like
🤪🤪 why does this make me horny 🤪🤪
You’re mad as hell.
You should say something to him after ordering him to go to your office, you know it. You should address all the things that irritate you right now, but you physically can’t bring yourself to it—not when your desire is to bite into his throat. It’s not leader-ish, it’s not you since you never scream at your team. Yet, you have to clench your fists, so they won’t land on his pretty face.
“Won’t you even look at me?” he asks, and somehow it makes you even more mad at him. A low laugh escapes your mouth, as you shake your head with disbelief. His audacity is fucking insane.
As you look up at him, you can’t help but notice the way he just smirks under that simple balaclava he has. It’s almost arrogant in a way, like he’s completely unfazed by your emotions and what he did.
"You disobeyed my orders," you speak up, slowly, deliberately—it’s the only way of speaking that won’t have you screaming at him. “Then, you proceed to lead the entire team under your command, even if I told you otherwise.”
His brown eyes harden a little, but he’s not less amused, as he takes a step forward in your direction. "I did what I thought fit for the situation," Simon says. Riley’s tone is insistent, not leaving a pole in a discussion; a great leader trait, you'd normally think of it.
But right now, this tone makes you furious because he’s not the leader. He’s someone that should obey, someone that shouldn’t even question your choices on the battlefield since you are the one giving orders. Not him.
“Right. Completely putting people at risk, instead of backing out despite we had everything,” you grit through your teeth. The next words you want to say are tough, so you clean your throat and take a deep breath before actually saying them. “You’re off the mission.”
The atmosphere between you two can be cut with the knife. Not only he doesn’t speak to you for a good minute, but he looks at you with a confused look in his eyes. “What the fuck?”
Of course he’d react this way, you think. Nothing new, nothing surprising—at least not with Simon Riley. “I can’t have you sabotaging my mission because you did something that fit the situation.”
“Sabotaging your mission,” he laughs. You lean against the wall when he takes another few steps in your direction, and you tilt your head at him for a better view. “It fits the situation because ‘m savin’ your bloody ass, colonel.”
“I don’t remember asking for it.” You furrow your eyebrows, trying to calm down. It’s hard enough with being mad at him, but even harder when he's chest to chest proximity, towering over you.
“You don’t have to ask. I’ll do it anyway, whether you want it or not.” He shrugs; for a moment, your words die in your throat.
Whether you want it or not.
You shouldn’t feel so hot and bothered right now. Yet, you can’t really help it, as he leans down to your eye level, so you don’t have to have your chin up anymore.
“Should take you off missions with me, then?” you ask. It’s obvious that the question startles him a bit, as he scoffs.
“You can’t do that, love. Wouldn’t do you any good, would it?”
“As far as I remember, I call the shots. Not you, so I’d be careful.”
He hums, completely ignoring the slight warning in your words; his eyes drop to your lips, like he doesn’t care about anything you said before. “I want to kiss you.”
You roll your eyes, ignoring the heat radiating all over your face. “I could have you suspended for insubordination right here, right now, lieutenant, and you think about—”
You don’t get to finish that sentence, as he pulls his balaclava a little over his nose and he pushes his lips into yours. Forceful kiss at first, evolves into the mutual battle of domination; maybe it’s the rank type of thing considering how eagerly you fight, but you can’t do it for long. Not when his hands lands on your hips and your back hits the wall
“I don’t think,” he pants out, his lips still against yours, “that you get how I care about you. You want to piss me off and send me off the mission? Do it. But I’ll be here anyway.”
“I could call the general on you,” you squeak weakly, as he picks you up and sits you on your desk.
“Then fuckin’ do it,” he growls, looking into your eyes—you do not look away, under any circumstances. It would only grow his ego bigger. “No one could protect you like I do. I’m on your command and you like it.”
The evident cockiness in his voice has you trembling, not to mention the lips on your cleavage, as he kisses the skin here. “On my command? You’d do whatever I want you to do?”
He smirks, lazily. “Isn’t that what I just said, love?”
You bite your lip more; it’s gonna be a bloody mess here in a minute, but you can’t care less right now. “Take off the mask,” you say. He tilts his head like a puppy, confused, as his back straightens. “You’re not fucking with me with this thing on.”
And oh, how quickly he throws his balaclava behind him, not even caring about where it lands. It's just your words that get him, the way you're so sure when you say it. It doesn't take him long to get rid of your pants either, kneeling right in front of you.
"'m gonna take," he murmurs to your thigh, gnawing at the skin, "such a good care of you, love. Gonna make this pussy all mine."
It takes one swipe of his tongue to know that he's right.
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judeswhore · 9 months
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watermelon sugar; jude bellingham
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summary: jude just can’t get enough of you
pairing: jude bellingham x fem!reader
warnings: 18+, minors dni, oral (f), pussy drunk jude??
notes: you can find my masterlist here.
"fuck," the curse tumbled from your lips on a sob, back arching from the lounger as you tried to push at jude's head, palm pressing into his forehead. his arms were wrapped around your thighs, one hand against your lower tummy in order to hold you back down and it was driving you insane. you couldn't move away from his mouth, from the constant pressure he was applying to your already oversensitive clit. "baby, please, s'too much."
you'd lost count of how many times he'd made you cum, how long he'd been buried between your thighs, the yacht bobbing peacefully on the blue water. it was a good thing you were practically in the middle of nowhere because the sounds your boyfriend had been pulling from you definitely shouldn't fall on others ears. it felt like it had been hours since he'd pressed you back into the lounger and settled between your legs, bikini bottoms discarded somewhere, his tongue finding home on his favourite spot. when jude went down on you, he often forgot to come back up.
he got lost in the way you tasted, in the noises he could get you to make, in the way your legs shook around his head and your back arched off whichever surface he’d set you on. he was obsessed with how sweet you were and how just a few teasing flicks of his tongue could have you dripping down his chin. he was even more obsessed with the quiet whine that always slipped from your lips on the first press of his tongue into your leaking hole. it drove him crazy to hear the soft gasp of his name when his nose bumped your clit and he just had to hear it again. and again.
“jude,” that was the gasp, the soft hiccup and hitch of your breath as you shook your head, gripped the edge of the boat so tight you were afraid the side might pierce your skin. from between your thighs dark eyes met yours, tongue flat to lick up the entire length of your pussy before he sucked your clit between soft lips. your entire body shook, still so sensitive from coming only seconds before and being allowed no time to recover. “it- it hurts.”
jude made a sound low in the back of his throat, tongue soft over your clit as he tried to work you up again. his eyes were a little glazed over, slightly unfocused with lust and you knew he’d gone into that headspace. the one that meant he wasn’t going to let up on eating you out until you uttered that one meaningful word. he kissed at your clit before dipping his tongue into you, pressing it so deep your mind went foggy.
“you’re okay, sweetheart, just gimme one more.” you whimpered at his words, felt your pussy gush and spasm at how hot he looked like this. he was so fucked out, barely registering anything around him besides getting you to cum again, getting to taste even more of you than before. when he shifted his chin glistened with your release, lips wet and sticky and it made your tummy tighten, hips wiggling beneath his large palms.
“but-“
“shh, one more i promise.” jude pressed you a little harder into the lounger, dipped his head again and kissed around your pussy, nuzzled into you until you were whining at how messy he was being. your clit throbbed when he teased over it, pussy over sensitive and just bordering on sore, hole fluttering around nothing because he was yet to press his fingers or cock into you. he’d made you cum countless times with his tongue alone, something you knew he’d pride himself on when he finally pulled himself out of this state.
“y’said that after the last one.”
“m’sorry, baby, just taste so good. one more, please, just one.” jude was begging, actually begging, his voice whinier than normal and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t have your pussy gushing a little more. he pressed your thighs a little further open to give him more access and kissed the supple skin, nipped hard enough to leave behind marks before going back to your pussy. “you can give me one more, yeah?”
you were nodding before you could even register his words, head falling back onto the pillow as jude gazed a little unseeing at the space between your thighs. he used his thumbs to spread you open a little more, kissed your clit just once before pulling his head back again. there was a few seconds of silence, of anticipating what he was going to do next and your breath caught in your throat when you felt his spit drip from your clit down your pussy, making a mess of you and the lounger beneath you.
jude’s mouth was back on you immediately, licking and sucking, being overly messy and noisy as he groaned into your swollen flesh. your legs started to shake almost straight away, the knot in your tummy tightening when he focused all his attention on your clit. you gripped at his head to keep you grounded as moans and cries slipped from your lips, tears gathering in your eyes at the constant overstimulation.
jude was grinding down against the lounger, pressing his cock repeatedly into the soft cushion to find relief as he got lost again in your taste and your voice. he let his eyes close, moaned around your clit as he sucked it back between his lips and in the back of your head you knew it wouldn’t be only one more.
it was never only one more with him.
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rubyreduji · 10 months
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a sheep in wolf's clothing — kmg
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summary: kim mingyu is the biggest player on campus, so why is he coming to you for sex help
tags: smut (minors dni!), college!au, inexperienced!mingyu, tutor!reader warnings: explicit protected sex, biting, hair pulling, fingering, attempted oral (f. receiving), mingyu is called puppy, pussy drunk mingyu, subby!mingyu, choking, praise, bondage/restraints, minor overstimulation wc: 7.2k an: the build up is kinda long and this is a lot longer than i was expecting it to be…but yay! gyu smut!
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It’s early winter when Mingyu approaches you one day after a tutoring session. Finals are coming up soon, and after it will be winter break.
“Mingyu?” You look at him curiously.
Mingyu bows low to you. “Y/N-ah, please help tutor me in sex.”
You stare at him incredulously. What did he just say to you?
You smack him upside the head. “You idiot! You can’t just ask people that.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I just thought, well, you’ve been so nice about tutoring me with my classes that maybe you could help me with this as well.” There’s a guilty look on Mingyu’s face.
“Sex and algebra are not the same thing! You can’t just go around asking people to teach you about sex. It’s weird.”
“I’m sorry!”
“What are you going on about anyway? You’re like the biggest player I know. Girls are always lining up to hop on your dick.”
Your crude choice of words makes Mingyu blush, like he didn’t just ask you to sleep with him. “It’s never…good, when I do it,” he admits in a small voice. “I just thought maybe I could figure out why.”
Kim Mingyu is bad at having sex? That’s hilarious.
The other thing you don’t get though, is why you? You don’t have enough hands to count the number of people you know who have crushes on Mingyu. So why is he asking you to help him with this? You shake your head, it doesn’t matter, you’re not going to say yes. 
You guess this may need some kind of context.
Right after midterms Mingyu approached you one day.
“Y/N.” You looked up to see Kim Mingyu standing in front of you.
You don’t really talk to Kim Mingyu. He’s in your seminar class and you know who he is, but you’re not really someone who is on his radar. He’s a frat boy and on the basketball ball team and hangs out with all of the people you try to generally avoid. Not that you don’t like Mingyu, he’s…sweet, just not someone you would go out of your way to spend time with.
“Mingyu?”
“Hi. I have a question. You’re smart right?”
“Is that the question?”
“What? Oh- no, no! I guess that was more of a segue into my actual question.”
“Which is…?”
“Oh right. I’m kind of failing a couple of classes and was wondering if maybe you could help tutor me? I can pay you if needed!”
“What subjects do you need help with?”
“Biology and Algebra. If I don’t pass I don’t graduate and then my dad’s gonna kill me.” Mingyu looks guilty and you sigh. Biology and Algebra are both freshman gen eds, but it’s not uncommon for people to push them back until their later years of college, which Mingyu must have done, and now he's struggling to pass them.
It was…a bit pathetic, if you're being honest, but you also feel a bit bad for the guy. Which is why you find yourself agreeing to help him out. 
“I’m here! I’m here!” Mingyu comes rushing up to your table in the library. His face is red from exertion and papers are starting to spill out of his unzipped backpack.
You slide your headphones off your head to cast a glance at Mingyu from the corner of your eye. “You’re ten minutes late.”
“I know, I’m sorry! I promise I have a good reason though!” Mingyu takes a seat across from you.
“I don’t really care to hear it. Let’s just get started, yeah?” You shut the lid to your laptop, putting your own homework to the side. “What are you struggling with?”
“...all of it? I don’t know how to do any of it and both of my teachers hate me!”
You sigh. Mingyu better be paying you good money for this.
You spend the rest of your day with Mingyu in the library. He’s…not as helpless as you thought he would be, in all honesty he’s not dumb, he really just does need the extra help. Maybe new professors as well. The topics are easy for you to pick back up even though it’s been a while since you’ve studied them.
You take your time explaining them to Mingyu in a way that makes sense to him. You sit there with him as he works on his overdue homework, helping him when he needs it. You’re surprised that he can still turn the work in but he then tells you he was able to get an extension on it so he can graduate and stay on the basketball team. Stupid basketball bastard.
It’s going on four hours of sitting in the library when Mingyu starts to get unbearably antsy (he got regular antsy within the first thirty minutes of sitting down). You can tell he’s not going to be able to do much work anymore so you start to pack up your things.
“Wait, we’re not done!”
“I know, but Rome wasn’t built in a day.”
“What does that even mean?”
You huff. “It’s going to take time to work on this. It’s not a one and done kind of thing. We can meet later in the week if you want but you’re not putting out your best work right now so let’s quit for the day, okay?”
“Yeah, okay, I guess you’re right.” Mingyu starts to pack up his things as well. “Thank you for your help so far though, I’m really starting to get it.”
“I’m glad. You’re smart Mingyu, you just need some help, and that’s what I’m here for.” You smile at him and Mingyu smiles at you back.
“No one’s ever called me smart before.”
“No one’s ever believed in you before,” you say with a shrug. Simple as that. You will admit you didn’t have much faith at the start either, but even in just four hours you saw the improvement in him. If only his professors could have just as much faith in him.
That was two months ago. You will say Mingyu’s grades have steadily been improving, enough that he’s not failing anymore and actually understands what’s happening on his tests, so he’s not wrong about you being a good tutor. You just weren’t expecting it to lead to…whatever he’s asking of you now.
Now that you think about it, a lot of your interactions make sense now that you're aware of his…lack of skills in the bedroom.
“So what’s the question you’re looking at?”
Mingyu turns his laptop to you so you can look over the question. You lean in closer to look at it properly before reaching over Mingyu to grab his scrap paper.
“Uh…”
“Yes?” You look at the boy.
“You’re just…really close.”
You roll your eyes and pull back. “Does a woman’s touch scare you Mingyu?”
“No! That’s not what I mean,” he pouts a bit. “I just wasn’t expecting it.”
“I don’t bite Mingyu. You’re the one who asked me to look over the question.”
“I know! I just-, nevermind. Can you just help me with the answer?”
That wasn’t the only instance like that. There was also that time he tried to buy you dinner and you teased him so badly he went home instead. You didn’t think you were actually flustering him. But it seems lately you can’t assume anything from Mingyu.
“Why did your stupid best friend ask me to help him with his stroke game?”
“He WHAT?!” Wonwoo chokes on his lunch as you sit down next to him. You know Wonwoo from some of your honors classes so you’re not sure why Mingyu didn’t ask him to tutor him but you can’t worry about that now.
“I’ve been tutoring him for two months now and he’s now asked me to tutor him on how to be good in bed. Every girl on his campus worships the ground he walks on and are all dying to get in his pants and you’re telling me he can’t even lick a pussy?”
Wonwoo snorts at your words. “Trust me, all of those girls have got him all wrong. That sexy cool guy act is just that, an act. They just want to think he’s like that. He’s actually a giant idiot who thinks he can get anything he wants by whining and using puppy dog eyes.”
“So you’re saying he can’t pleasure a girl because he’s a loser?”
“Basically. Anyone claiming to have hooked up with Mingyu are either too obsessed with the idea of Mingyu himself to admit it was bad, or haven’t even been with him and just want to brag. He’s not the player he wants people to think he is.”
“That doesn’t explain why he’s asking me for help.”
Wonwoo sighs, like he doesn’t want to tell you what he is about to. “You hooked up with one of our friends last semester and he may have bragged a bit about it and ever since the whole friend group now has this idea you’re some…sex deity or something.”
Now it’s your turn to snort at Wonwoo. “Excuse me? Sex deity, yeah right. I guess if we’re talking about DK then it makes sense. Kissing and telling is totally not cool though,” you scoff. “Wait- did Mingyu ask me to tutor him just because he wanted me to teach him how to be good at sex?”
“I do know for a fact that Mingyu is failing his classes, but I cannot confirm or deny if he had ulterior motives for asking you for help. I did tell him I wouldn’t give him help though. I gave up on trying to help him out freshman year.”
“This is crazy,” you mutter.
“So I’m assuming you told him no?” Wonwoo raises an eyebrow at you.
“Unlike some people, I don’t kiss and tell. Whether any ‘kissing’ happens or not.” With that you stand and walk away from Wonwoo.
The true answer is, you haven’t decided. You were so sure when he first asked you that it was going to be a no, but now you’ve hesitated giving him a solid answer for so long that you’re starting to question your own choices. 
For one thing, you haven’t been laid since last semester when you hooked up with DK, which was seven months ago. You also like Mingyu. You’re not sure if you have any romantic feelings for him, but you for sure like hanging out with him as a friend, and you do trust him. He’s also, objectively, very attractive. Even if you’ve seen him trip over air before. You’d just be helping out a friend. How is it any different than what you’ve been doing?
It’s also the end of the semester. In reality anything goes wrong you can just ignore him until you graduate. It wouldn’t be that hard. There’s really no harm in just trying…right?
“Y/N.” You’re not expecting to see Mingyu at your apartment doorstep two weeks later. You avoided Mingyu during finals week and you haven’t had a reason to see him since the semester ended.
“Mingyu?”
“I just wanted to come here and apologize for what I said to you. It was completely inappropriate and I never meant to make you uncomfortable. I know you probably don’t want to see me anymore but I just wanted to thank you for helping me this semester. This is for you.” Mingyu holds out a small gift bag to you that you take tentatively.
Mingyu is about to start to walk away but you stop him. “Would you like to come inside?”
Mingyu hesitates, like you’re testing him. Eventually he allows himself to step through the threshold. He’s been to your place plenty of times within the last eight weeks, but right now he’s acting like this is the most uncomfortable place he could be right now.
“I talked to Wonwoo about you,” you tell him.
“O-oh…? Did he uhm, say anything?”
“He said lots of things, nothing too noteworthy though. Didn’t know DK had such a big ass mouth though.”
“It wasn’t because of DK why I asked you!” Mingyu jumps in to say, his voice raised all of a sudden. “Sorry I just, I don’t want you to think that I think of you like that?”
“So you don’t think I’d be good at sex?”
“What? No, wait! I do! No that I think about you having sex. Well I guess I do? Because I asked you? But not in that way. I do think you’re hot! I just-”
“Breathe Mingyu,” you laugh. “I’m messing with you.”
“DK isn’t why I asked you, I asked you because well, I trust you.” Mingyu’s voice is softer now and you can’t help but find him cute in this moment. “I understand why you don’t want to though, and-”
“I never said I didn’t want to, Mingyu.” Mingyu’s mouth drops open a bit. He suddenly looks invested in what you have to say. “I just needed time to think.”
“So…what did all of your thinking decide?”
“I think that you should come over here and kiss me.” It’s bold. Mingyu doesn’t hesitate to do so, though.
He’s on you within a second, his body dwarfing yours as he pushes his mouth up against yours. You two stay like that for a moment before you pull away.
“Okay, you definitely need help.”
Mingyu whines. “Already? I thought at least I was a good kisser.”
“What girls are lying to you?”
You realize that this is going to be a lot more difficult than you were expecting. Mingyu is truly inexperienced. It’s going to be awkward and a lot of stopping and starting but you’re committed now so if Mingyu doesn’t come out of this his own kind of sex deity, you’re going to be so mad at him.
“You’re too rough. You need to build it up. Girls like being able to be eased into things. You can be soft even when your dick’s not, right?” You two have relocated to your couch where you sit facing each other.
“Softer….okay. Can I try again?”
“Eager to kiss me again?”
“Y/N,” Mingyu whines.
“Fine, fine, come here.”
This time Mingyu’s approach is…softer. It’s also rigid as hell. It’s like kissing a dead fish.
“Mingyu.”
“What now? I’m doing what you said!”
“You’re doing nothing! You’re just sitting there. You have to at least put some effort into it, be interested.”
“Be interested, but don’t be over eager. How do I do that?”
You huff. “Just, let me take the lead. But please kiss back this time.”
You scoot closer to Mingyu to the point you’re almost on his lap. You cup his face and pull him towards you. He feels more loose, which is a good start. You press your lips to his you can feel Mingyu hesitate a moment before finally pressing back. It isn’t too firm and you slide your lips over his. You can hear the soft smacking noises of your lips and you rub your thumb over Mingyu’s cheek.
When you pull away Mingyu looks at you with wide eyes. “That was…so cool.”
You snort. “Cool?”
“I’ve never kissed like that.”
“I can tell.”
“Hey!”
“That’s how most girls want to be kissed, at first at least. Then when things feel right, you can start to deepen it. Get a little more passionate,” you explain.
“What do I do with my hands?” You get flashbacks to past tutoring sessions with Mingyu. You tell him something and he has thirty questions to follow.
“You just touch. Her back, her cheeks, her neck, her waist. Maybe her thigh. Have you never made out with a girl before? You have had sex before haven’t you?”
“Yes! It just was always super rushed and half drunk. I’ve never cum from a girl, and a girl has never cum from me.”
“That’s…sad, but we’re going to fix that. Also stop having drunk sex.” 
“Is that why I can’t cum?”
“It’s probably because you’re doing something wrong. And we’re going to figure it out,” you tell him. “Now that you can kiss properly, let’s move on to the next part. Making out.”
“Isn’t that the same as kissing?”
“No. Kissing is soft, slow, innocent. Making out is more intimate and passionate. It’s the real build up into doing other things.” Without warning you crawl into Mingyu’s lap and plop yourself down. “Want me to show you?” 
Mingyu’s pupils widen and he nods. “Please.”
You pull Mingyu into you by the back of his neck and smash your lips together. You press up against him, pushing him against the back of the couch. You move your lips against his. You feel Mingyu gently place his hands on your waist before kissing you back. His lips slide against yours, meeting your pace.
You break away from Mingyu for a second to catch your breath before diving right back in. It’s not the most experienced kissing, your teeth clash together and your noses keep bumping, but the passion makes up for it. You bury your fingers into the hair on the back of Mingyu’s head and you tug at it a bit and Mingyu mewls into your mouth.
“You like that?” You whisper to Mingyu and he nods frantically. Mingyu goes in to kiss you again but you stop him. “Eager are we? Remember, this is a teaching lesson, so you’re here to learn.”
“Y-yes Y/N.”
“Good boy.” Mingyu shudders at this and you smirk. “Next step is touching. Do you wanna touch me, Mingyu?” You ask and you swear to God Mingyu whines.
“Yes. Please let me touch you.”
“Where do you wanna touch, puppy?” The nickname slips out, but you can’t help it. That’s exactly what Kim Mingyu is. An eager, adorable little puppy. Mingyu seems to like it too, considering his physical reaction to being called the name.
“Anywhere, everywhere. Wherever you’ll let me Y/Nie.” He’s practically squirming under you, and you can already feel his bulge starting to strain against his pants under you.
“Well go ahead,” you tell him. “Touch me where you want to.”
With shaky arms Mingyu lifts his hands up to your breasts. He hesitates for a second and you nod at him and he pushes them forward, cupping your boobs in his palms. He squeezes there as he stares at his hands, like he can’t believe this is happening.
“Softer,” you tell him as you cover his hands with yours. You show him the right amount of pressure to squeeze with. “Here.” You push his hands off before pulling your shirt over your head so your bra is exposed and Mingyu’s eyes widen, staring at your cleavage.
He brings his hands up again to touch you. His fingertip traces along the top of your breast, before taking the whole thing in his hand. He paws at you and you let out a soft moan. This seems to encourage Mingyu and he kneads at your tit more, thumb brushing over the swell of it.
“Put it together with the kissing,” you tell him. Mingyu leans forward and you connect your lips. Your hand rests on his jaw as you guide the kiss. You push your tongue into Mingyu’s mouth and he lets you.
One of his hands continues to work at your boob, while the other runs up and down your back. It seems he’s getting more comfortable with you and the whole situation. You roll your hips in his lap, grinding down on his cock and he hisses. You giggle to yourself.
Mingyu’s hand moves down off your boob and trails down your torso before reaching around you. Both of his large hands clamp down on your ass, squeezing there. You moan into his mouth. Bold move. You throw your head back and Mingyu takes that opportunity to move his mouth down to your neck.
He presses kiss and bites against the exposed skin, licking the marks after he bites down. Just a big ole puppy.
“Mm, Gyu,” you mumble. “You’re doing so good right now. You’ve always been a fast learner though.”
“Only when it’s you,” Mingyu says against your neck.
Mingyu’s mouth moves farther and farther down until his lips press up against your breasts. He bites down particularly hard on your right one and you let out a cry of pleasure. “Shit, Mingyu.”
“S-sorry,” Mingyu pulls back quickly but you shove him right back where he was.
“No, don’t stop. So good.”
Mingyu seems to get what you mean and he continues what he was doing, biting and kissing all over your chest. His hands move up your back and you can feel him grab the clasp of your bra, but stop before doing anything. He’s waiting for permission. What a good boy.
“Go ahead Mingyu,” you tell him and two seconds later your bra is on the floor.
“Oh fuck, Y/N,” Mingyu’s hips buck up into yours as he stares at your exposed breasts. Your nipples are perky and staring straight at Mingyu. He stares right back.
“Well go on, touch ‘em.”
Mingyu brings his hand up and brushes his thumb over your nipple and you whine and push forward into his hand. This excites Mingyu and he does it again. He squeezes at the supple flesh there, watching the way his large hand envelopes your tit.
Your other boob is left untouched and Mingyu seems to realize this and he leans his head down to wrap his lips around your areola. His tongue darts out to flick at your nipple and you grind your hips down, your pussy screaming from the feeling of his hot mouth on your breast.
You throw your head back again and bury your hands into his hair, holding him in place as he feasts on your chest. You’ve never been too big on marks, but you find you can’t tell Mingyu to stop as he gnaws on your chest. 
It takes you a minute or two to remember that you’re doing this for a reason. You do your best to try and clear your head as you push Mingyu away from you. “You’re…very good at that,” you say, trying to catch your breath.
“You’re so pretty Y/N,” Mingyu whispers to you as his thumb brushes against your waist. “Especially like this.” You look down to see the red marks starting to form on your chest.
“There's more to learn, pup,” you tell him. “You’re doing so good for me right now though.” 
“Wanna learn more. Wanna do more.”
“First step is to get you out of this.” You tug at Mingyu’s shirt and he helps you pull it over his head.
You take a moment to stare at his bare chest. You’re aware he’s a fit, good looking guy, but you’re still stunned at what you see. His pecs are huge and his abs are like a washboard. You wanna drool all over his stomach. You can do that later, you have a task at hand right now.
“You know how to touch a pussy Mingyu?” You ask him.
Mingyu looks alarmed at your boldness and he averts his eyes from you. “Uhm…no.”
“That’s okay baby,” you grab his chin and force him to look at you again, “I’m gonna teach you all about it.”
You climb off his lap and Mingyu whines as you do. He shuts up real quick when he sees you shimmying out of your pants. You nod at him to do the same and Mingyu quickly pushes his pants down his legs and kicks them onto the floor.
You have a better view of his bulge this way, and you can already tell he’s huge. His cock presses tight up against his boxers, begging to be freed and played with. You push Mingyu back onto the couch and crawl back onto his lap, hovering over his thighs.
You slowly lower yourself down against him and grind your cunt against his length. Mingyu whimpers below you as you roll your hips in slow, teasing motions. You can feel almost everything with there only being two thin layers between you two. Your panties are already damp with your arousal and you stare at Mingyu in the eyes as you move against him.
“It’s so warm,” Mingyu mumbles.
“I’m wet. You did that pup. You’re gonna make it happen even more though, yeah?” Mingyu nods at you. “You know where the clit is?”
Mingyu doesn’t respond and that gives you your answer. You grab Mingyu’s hand and place it against your cunt. Mingyu’s face goes through multiple emotions before settling on one of amazement. You press two of his fingers against you until they catch on your clit. You stifle a moan as you start to move Mingyu’s fingers in small circles.
“Feel that? That’s the clit. Keep touching there.” Mingyu seems hesitant to do so, though.
“I don’t wanna do it wrong,” he tells you.
You grind your cunt down against his hand. “If you do it wrong I’ll tell you, but you better start touching me now or I’m kicking you out and getting myself off.” 
This sets Mingyu in motion and he starts to move your clit around in circles. His touch is still a bit shy at first, light and fleeting and almost not enough, like he’s teasing you.
“More,” you tell him. You reach down and press his fingers hard against you. “Firm, but not harsh.”
“It’s so wet,” Mingyu says. He’s right. Your panties are soaked through now and you can feel the roughness of the pads of his fingertips against you.
“Yeah,” you sigh, “super turned on. Gonna need you to finger me soon.” 
“F-finger you?”
“Mhmm,” you hum. “It’s easy, don’t worry. Just keep touching me like this for now.”
You lean down and capture Mingyu’s lips again. It takes him a moment to double task kissing you and touching your clit but he eventually gets the hang of it. You take one of Mingyu’s lips between your own and suck on it, pulling it into your mouth before releasing it and doing it all over again.
Mingyu moans and his fingers accidently press harder against your clit, causing you to moan as well. 
“Fuck, do that again,” Mingyu groans.
“What? Suck on your lip?”
“Yeah, please.”
“Only if you stick your fingers in me.”
“Ah, Y/N, I’m not sure…”
“You’ve come this far already. I’m so needy for it Gyu, please?” You give him your best begging eyes. “You’re the one who got me all worked up, the least you can do is fix it. You’ll learn a valuable life skill as well.”
Mingyu contemplates it for a few more seconds before agreeing. “Okay. Just, show me how, please?”
You lift your hips up a bit and push your panties to the side before grabbing Mingyu’s hand and moving further between your legs. You press Mingyu’s fingers up to your entrance and slightly lower yourself down on them, so you’re half riding his hand.
“Just push them inside and move them in and out. Like you do with any fucking motion. If you want it to feel really good, curl your fingers and try to find my g-spot.” 
“What if it doesn’t feel good?”
“Then we’ll stop and try again, or move on to something else. You’re learning Gyu, it’s okay.”
He still looks a bit weary, but he slowly pushes his fingers up in you and you bite down on your lip so you don’t scream out. His fingers are thick and you probably should have told him to start with one. He’s awkward with his technique and it’s more like he’s jamming his fingers into you, rather than thrusting.
“Gyu, Gyu, baby,” you mutter and you grab his wrist. “Remember, take your time, it’s okay.”
You pull his fingers out of you before rearranging his hands so only his pointer finger is sticking up. You help him guide it into you slowly and you start to pull his finger in and out of you, moving your hips along as you do. 
You loosen your grip on Mingyu’s hand and he starts to take over. “Mm, just like that pup. Can you curl your finger, like uh, like this.” You make the come hither motion and Mingyu does the same. You can feel his fingertip scrape against your walls, before pushing right up against where you want it.
You gasp and grind down against Mingyu’s hand. “Right there Gyu. Keep hitting right there. Add another finger too.” 
Mingyu does as told and you work on holding up your end of the bargain. You pull Mingyu’s bottom lip into your mouth and suck on it before tugging at it with your teeth. You drag your teeth over his lip before releasing it. His lip is plump and slightly red when you pull away, but his pupils are blown wide.
Without him having to ask, you dive in to do it again, enjoying his reaction. You don’t think Mingyu realizes this, but as you suck on his lip his fingers start to thrust harder into you. The harder you suck, the deeper his fingers go. Not only does it feel good but the fact he doesn’t even know he’s doing it is so hot.
You break your lips away from Mingyu, both of you a little breathless. Your mouth isn’t lonely for long though as you dip down to press kisses against his neck. Not many guys you hook up with are into it, but Mingyu seems like the type who would, and you are so right. Mingyu mewls as you suck a mark right into the junction of his neck. 
You can feel him shifting under you, his boner is probably painfully hard right now.
Mingyu’s fingers are now drenched from your arousal and you can feel yourself getting closer and closer by the second. Your legs start to tremble and you bite down onto Mingyu’s pec as your pussy spasms. You feel your whole body flood with pleasure as you ride Mingyu’s fingers. 
“Y-Y/N? Are you okay?” Mingyu asks you softly. His free hand cradles your face and he looks at you with big eyes.
You gently pull his fingers out of you as you laugh, sinking into his body. “More than okay Gyu,” you mutter. “You just made a girl cum for the first time.”
“Wait, I made you cum? Just now?” You nod into his chest. You look up at Mingyu to find him looking down at you in awe.
For a fleeting second you think about how you just taught him how to finger a girl. How he can now go out and use those skills on anyone who’s willing (and that list is quite long). 
The idea makes you…a little jealous to be honest. The thought of Mingyu using the skills you’ve taught him on another girl. You do get some satisfaction knowing that no matter who he uses them on though, you’re the one who taught him it.
You shake your head, why are you even thinking like that? Mingyu isn’t your boyfriend. This is just a tutoring lesson, nothing different than what you’ve been doing with him.
“Ready for your next lesson?” You ask him, banishing those thoughts from your mind.
“Yes!”
You caress his face, rubbing your thumb over his cheek. “You wanna learn how to use your mouth? Lick all over my cunt and make me feel good?”
Mingyu whines. “Yes Y/N, please.”
You slide off his lap and lay yourself down on the couch. You spread your legs a bit and you let Mingyu stare at you for a second. “Well come here pup.” 
Mingyu quickly moves so he can place his face between your legs. His fingers run along the soft skin of your thighs. “How do I…”
“Uh, remember the clit from earlier? You just kind of suck and lick at it. Then if you want to do more you can do what you did with your fingers, but with your tongue instead,” you explain. Mingyu nods his head along, like he’s soaking up every word you’re saying.
Mingyu dips down between your legs and experimentally juts his tongue out and licks at your clit. His tongue is hot and wet and you need more. You let out a little encouraging hum and Mingyu dives in more. He laps at your clit, he’s a bit rough with it, but you don’t stop him, enjoying the roughness.
You reach down and bur your hands in his hair, tugging a bit. He hums against you and the vibrations go right into your clit, just as you hoped. Mingyu wraps his lips around your bud, sucking it into your mouth. You’re just about to tell him to suck a bit harder when you suddenly scream out, and not in the good way.
“Fuck, Mingyu!” You instinctively smack Mingyu against the head and he lets up. “Gyu what the hell?”
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” He quickly backs away from you.
You sigh. It’s not his fault, he didn’t know. “You can’t bite down on the clit, it’s sensitive. How would you like it if someone bit the tip of your cock. If you really wanna use your teeth, just scrape, don’t bite.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Mingyu whispers. You scoot closer to him. He looks afraid of touching you, but you reach out and grab him instead.
“Hey, it’s okay, I’m okay. Don’t worry about it. You’re still learning, you’re not going to be perfect the first time. I’m sorry for smacking you.”
“No, I probably deserve it. I know you didn’t mean to.”
“Exactly. We both did something we regret, and now we can forgive and forget, yeah?”
“Yeah, okay.” Mingyu still seems a little nervous but you just kiss at his jaw.
“We can come back to it another day, okay pup?”
“A-another day?”
“Yeah, remember, Rome wasn’t built in a day. I promise I’ll suck your dick then too, show you how a real girl should take care of you.” Mingyu nearly drools on you. “But let’s move to something more fun, yeah? Gonna show you how to use that big cock of yours.”
“Please,” Mingyu begs, his shy demeanor suddenly gone again. “My cock is so hard.”
“I know, that must hurt a lot. C’mon puppy, we’re gonna move to my bed, okay?” You crawl off of Mingyu and he scrambles to his feet. He hurries after you as you lead him to your bed. “Boxers off, on the bed.”
Mingyu quickly obeys. He strips his boxers off and climbs onto the bed, his back resting against your headrest. His dick rests against his stomach and you lick your lips at the sight. Just as you suspected, his cock is HUGE. Long and thick in all the right ways with a delicious vein running along his whole length. Yeah, you’re definitely going to have to suck his dick at some point.
“Now puppy,” you crawl onto the bed, sitting on your knees as you face Mingyu, “are you going to let me tie you up?”
Mingyu’s hips buck into the air involuntarily and he blushes. “I- uh, I’ve never thought about that but, I think I want to try.”
“Good boy.” You climb off the bed and move over to your closet. You can feel Mingyu’s eyes trail your naked form and you take your time bending down and picking out what you’re looking for.
When you turn around Mingyu is still staring shamelessly. A soft tie that you think once belonged to an ex is in your hands and you saunter back up to Mingyu. You climb over him, straddling his waist, your bare pussy hovering over his abs. You’re sure you could grind your clit to completion against them.
You lean over Mingyu’s face, bringing his wrists up over his head. You tie them to your headboard before leaning back. Mingyu’s gaze follows your tits that were just in his face and you roll your eyes. “Eyes up here pup.”
Mingyu blushes and drags his eyes up to meet yours. “Sorry.”
“If you want your arms to be let down, just tell me and I’ll untie you, okay?” He nods. “That’s a good boy.”
You lean down and kiss Mingyu. Your lips clash against each other, but Mingyu easily lets you have the dominance. You lower your body down onto him, grinding your clit against his abs. Your prediction was right. The grooves as his muscles catch on your clit.
“Fuck puppy, you’re such a good boy.”
“Y/N, please. Need to cum so bad.”
“Well since you asked so nicely.”
You reach over to your bedside table and grab a condom out of one of your drawers. You move down Mingyu's body and you roll it onto him. You notice his cock is already starting to produce precum and you resist the urge to lean down and lick it off.
Once you have the condom secured you hover over his lap and line him up to your entrance. Slowly, you sink down onto him. It takes a second for him to get into you, due to his large size.
Little by little, you’re able to fuck yourself down to his base. Your pussy is stuffed full and you swear you can feel him pressing up against your stomach.
“Gyu, how can you be this big, but have no clue how to use it?”
“I don’t know,” he whines, “but you feel so good right now. I think I’m gonna combust.”
“Don’t. Not until I say so.”
“Fuck, that’s so hot,” Mingyu says.
“Now be quiet pup, I’m gonna show you how this thing should actually be used.” 
You brace yourself on Mingyu’s chest and start to roll your hips slowly. His cock stretches at your walls as it moves in and out of you. You bite your lip, half in concentration, half in covering up your moans. 
Eventually you’re about to find a good pace that’s not too fast but not painfully slow. You can hear the soft noises Mingyu is releasing, letting you know how good he feels.
“You’re being so good for me baby,” you tell him as you lean down and press a kiss to his pec.
“Feels so good Y/N,” Mingyu whimpers. “Never felt a pussy as good as yours.”
The idea that you’re the best Mingyu’s ever had drives you crazy and you start to pick up your pace. You fuck yourself on Mingyu’s dick, hard and fast. Underneath you, Mingyu is a mess. As good as this is making you feel, you know Mingyu is even closer to falling apart than you are.
“Y/N, please,” he begs.
“Please what puppy?”
“Please, choke me.” The request isn’t what you were expecting, but you’re not mad at it.
You slide your hand up his chest and to his neck. You slide your fingers into the right place for safe choking and squeeze slightly. “Aww, does my pretty puppy like when my hand is collar?”
Mingyu just nods to the best of his ability, his breath coming out in small puffs.
“What a good boy for me.” You lean forward and kiss his forehead. “Look at you, all fucked out. That’s been your problem baby. You’ve never been successful because you need someone to take care of you, don’t you? You’re just a pliant little pup who needs to be bossed around.”
Mingyu whimpers at your words and you know you’re right. It’s almost laughable. The big, campus “player” is nothing but a submissive puppy who didn’t even know how to kiss until two hours ago.
It’s kind of hot though, discovering Mingyu’s kinks before anyone else can. This is just for you and him. You lean down and press your lips against Mingyu’s. Your grip on his throat helps you guide his face to yours and press hard and firm against him, wanting to taste every part of him.
You’re not sure what you were expecting when you agreed to help Mingyu out with this, but it definitely wasn’t how intimate it feels right now. You can’t say you hate it though. Mingyu’s body pressed against yours, your breaths mingling as his fat cock crams up against your cervix.
“Nngh, Y/N, close,” Mingyu mutters to his best abilities. “Please. Needa cum.”
“Aw, doesn’t my puppy want me to let him cum?” He nods. “Hmm, well since this is your first time being able to cum during sex, I guess I’ll let you have this. Come on puppy, give it to me.”
Mingyu sighs in relief at your words and he thrusts up into you once, twice, and then he’s cumming, painting the condom white with his semen. You don’t let him catch a break though, continuing to fuck yourself with his cock so you can cum too.
Mingyu whimpers with overstimulation as you reach down to furiously rub at your clit. You can tell Mingyu is dying to help but his hands are still tied up. You feel your stomach start to tighten up and then your legs are giving out and you fall against Mingyu, your cunt throbbing against him. You pant into his chest as you roll your hips lazily trying to prolong your orgasm as much as you.
When it seems that it’s over you reach up and untie Mingyu’s arms before gently lifting yourself off him and flopping down onto the bed.
“Normally after sex you do aftercare. Drinking water, going pee, cleaning up. Cuddles if needed,” you explain, still a little out of breath.
“Do you…want to cuddle?” Mingyu looks at you with innocent eyes and you melt a little.
“Uh, yeah, if you want to.”
“I’m always open to cuddles!” It sounds like a message that would be pre-recorded in a Valentine’s Day teddy bear, but you guess that kind of sums up Mingyu. 
“Lemme go pee and get some water, and then we’ll cuddle okay?” You get up and go through your list of things you need to do. When you make it back to your bed it seems Mingyu has cleaned himself off with a tissue and you hand him a cup of water that he happily chugs down.
You climb back into your bed and slip under the cover. Mingyu does the same and you bury yourself into his side. His body is warm and still buzzing with that after sex glow and you rest your head on his chest. Neither of you bothered to get dressed and you relish in the feeling of his bare skin against yours.
“Y/N-ah?” Mingyu whispers and you look up at him. “Thanks for doing this. It uh, means a lot to me.”
“Yeah well, I got something out of it too, so no big deal.” 
“I know but, I’m just really happy it’s you.”
The words hold a second meaning to them that you can’t quite place yet. You don’t respond, just press yourself up against Mingyu tighter. You can wonder about the future for you and Mingyu after you’re done cuddling.
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4K notes · View notes
munivrse · 3 months
Text
༊*·˚ hold me
alpha!gf!bada....
c/w: gp!bada... alpha bada... rough, possessive gf bada. fingering. knotting. lots of cum... mild marking. mentions of breeding and pregnancy....
a/n: uhm... merry christmas! @princhii @thevenussapphic
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── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──
“do you think these are cute?” you hold the items up to bada, awaiting a response.
bada is extremely distracted right now. there is a man staring at you from across the aisle and something about it is making bada’s head spin. after he stops practically eye fucking you, he meets bada’s and his face pales a bit. bada’s eyes narrow and she steps impossibly close to you, watching him until he walks to the next aisle.
“… are you good.”
bada’s head whips to yours and she realizes just how close she had actually gotten. she was nearly squishing you against the clothing rack.
“shit— sorry. sorry baby,” bada steps back, “they’re really cute. you wanna go try them on for me?”
bada watches as you nod and bounce away. she felt odd. like… like there was something coursing through her that she couldn’t quite put a finger on. she followed you into the dressing room, sitting on the stool in the corner.
you make quick work changing out of your current clothes and into the white dress that caught your girlfriends eye. when you face the mirror, you spot bada behind you, scanning your figure up and down. she takes her lip between her teeth. when her eyes reach yours, her eyes a slightly hooded and have the slighted glaze over them.
“you look great, baby. spin for me?”
you do as your told, spinning until bada’s hands catch your hips. she pulls you on top of her lap. her eyes focus on your figure once again, stopping when they see how your breasts almost spill out of your low cut top. she licks her lips— you look fucking delicious
“you look so pretty today, angel.” bada’s eyes flick back up to yours. she moves one hand from your hips up to cup your jaw. she pulls you in for a searing kiss, tongue licking against your own. you feel her hips buck up into yours and she lets out a quiet hiss.
“so fucking pretty for me.” she continues her assault on your lips and pushes you down into her lap. her head is spinning and she feels like she’s floating. bada continues moving your hips back and forth on her lap, pushing up into you, fighting for any sort of friction for her weeping cock-
“shit- shit, princess. keep grinding on me like that. please, baby.”
you pull away from bada slightly, just enough to utter a couple words,
“we can’t bada. we’re in public-”
bada lets out a loud, loud whine. her hips stutter as she fucks her hips against your clothed lower half. the grip on your hip tightens so much bada distantly thinks of how her fingertips might leave marks on you which only spurs her on further.
“f-fuck. please baby. i need it.” she whispers against your mouth, eyes welling up with tears.
your hand goes up to cup bada’s forehead-
“you’re burning up. are you okay?”
bada’s hand leaves your jaw and stops at your throat, squeezing lightly. she pulls away from you with spit slicked lips. she takes all of you in, the way you look just slightly fucked out. the way you’re gripping onto her shoulders as she guides your hips to rub up against her own.
you let out a weak whine, “bada-”
and bada’s eyes roll to the back of her fucking head. her mouth opens in a silent moan, entire body tensing as she creams her pants, hips slowly rolling into your own as she draws out her orgasm. and you feel the wet patch before it even connects in your brain exactly what just happened.
needless to say you both quickly left the shop, an embarrassed bada trailing behind you, holding you against her body as you walk out.
you guys dont discuss it any further.
── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──
three days later you find yourself trapped under bada as she subconsciously buries her face into your neck. your hands rub up and down her back,
“bada..?”
she groans a little in defiance.
“c’mon you big baby, wake up. i’m dying.”
she doesn’t respond immediately, she just shoves her face further into your skin. after a couple moments, you switch to lightly raking your nails against the fabric of her shirt.
you hear her hiss and feel her pull herself up. she positions herself so that she’s fully hovering over you. she’s got a lopsided grin on her face,
“g’morning baby.”
bada’s arms cage the sides of your head as she leans down to press a kiss to your lips. she pulls away but something in her brain short circuits when she tastes your lips. she immediately swoops back down to kiss you again, one hand cradling your head. she kisses down your jaw, down your neck,, and stops at the juncture between your neck and shoulder. you feel her sigh into your neck,
“i’m gonna call out today.”
you run your fingers through her hair,
“you okay?”
“yeah i just..” she croaks out, voice scratchy from sleep, “i just feel like i need to be close to you right now.”
she leaves soft kisses against your skin. she distantly wonders why she feels like she’s gonna die if she’s more than 6ft away from you, but all thoughts are thrown to the window when you decide to scratch her scalp with your nails.
“feels so good, baby. thank you.”
you continue running your nails across her scalp. she’d been so clingy lately, you couldn’t help but feel a little bad for her. she’d been a little more lazy, a little slower in her movements.
“you smell so fucking good, y/n.”
you push her off of you and giggle,
“im gonna go try and make us breakfast—” badas eyes light up but you raise your hands up, “dont get your hopes up. we’ll probably have to order in anyway. i am no chef.”
as you shimmy your way out of bed, bada takes in the way your hips sway when you walk. they way her shirt reaches just below your ass. she can kinda see your curves through the fabric of her shirt—
bada feels herself sweat as the thinks about taking you just like that. raising her shirt up. pulling your flimsy panties to the side and fucking you full of her. she wonders, distantly, how well you’d take her knot.
well, fuck. bada throws herself back into bed as she comes to her realization— shes in a rut.
she stays like that for about 15 minutes. she tries really, really hard to push those thoughts down and be normal. but then she hears pans clanking in the kitchen and she remembers you’re there and her feet guide her to you, without thought.
when bada reaches her destination, she leans against the door frame. she’s been doing alot of admiring lately. this time she admires your legs and how your thighs rub together when you walk. she wonders how they’d feel wrapped around her head—
“fuck it.” she mutters.
you hear her, feel her before you see her. her hands grip your waist as she flips you to face her and lifts you to place you on the counter. when you take in her appearance, shes flushed from neck up. sweat beads at her forehead. her pupils are blown wide and her mouth is open in a slight pant. her tongue darts out to wet her lips as her eyes flick from your own down to your lips.
“i need you,” her voice cracks in need, “are you gonna let me have you, baby?”
your skin pricks with sweat too, almost mirroring your partners. its then you have the realization as well. how clingy bada has been, how needy she is, how domineering shes been with you. the way she’s dressed you for the past week— baggy clothes… her clothes. you realize now she’s been marking you for the past week, putting extra on your plate. covering you up more, making sure you were warm and comfortable.
“bada are you-”
“yes— yes. tell me i can take you. tell me you want it, pretty girl. tell me you need it.”
bada’s eyes shift into something less desperate, more dangerous. her hands grip your hips and pull you into her own and you feel it. a cock, hot, heavy. waiting for you. you whine out upon contact,
“i need it bada, please.”
bada lets out a dark chuckle,
“so polite. so easy.”
she presses her lips against yours, calculated and smooth. her mouth molds against your own and you feel her pant each time she pulls away. her lips are more needy than the last each time she goes back in and eventually she nips at your bottom lip hard enough for you to physically wince. your eyes squeeze shut and tears prick your eyes.
“shit- sorry… fuck— no i’m not. you look so pretty like that.”
her kisses continue down your neck,
“’wanna make you cry today-,” she sighs into your neck, thinking of all the ways she’s gonna make you feel good tonight. one hand travels from your hip up to your neck, the other dips its fingers in your underwear. she forces you to look at her as she inserts two fingers inside of you, her thumb rubbing slow circles into your clit.
“gonna make you sob while i make it fit.”
her fingers crook up inside of you, rubbing against your gummy walls. you’re so wet that you can hear squelching as she fucks her fingers inside of you. she inserts a third as soon as she feels you relax,
“you’re gonna take it all for me today, right princess?” she presses a kiss to your lips when you nod in response,
“you wanna make me happy don’t you?”
and its almost as if your body is molding to her every will. your neck bares for her, almost presenting yourself for her. you do want to make her happy. your brain wills for you to do everything in your power to make her happy right now. your brain was so cloudy and—
“poor baby. it’s okay,” bada grins, she loved when you were like this. it made her feel useful. powerful.
your legs instinctively spread more for her and she inserts a fourth finger. tears well up in your eyes and bada kisses them as they fall,
“don’t want you to hurt too bad baby.”
once she thinks you're stretched enough, pulls her sweats down just enough to accompany her cock, she guides it into your cunt, groaning as she pushes in. your eyes begin to close but she taps you on your cheek to grab your attention,
"look at me while i stretch you out, angel."
your brows furrow together as you do your best to keep your eyes open as you take her, inch by inch. as soon as she's finished pushing into you, she gives you a sloppy kiss on the lips,
"i'm gonna make you feel so fucking good baby, just relax for me."
── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──
it started out so soft. so caring. after round 3, bada stopped caring. stopped being so soft.
“’fuckin— shit— fuckin take it baby. like a good girl would.”
bada’s got her arm wrapped so tightly around your neck your ears are nearly ringing.
the first round she fucked you on the counter, whispering how nice you felt around her. round two was in the hallway, against the wall. she held you up with your legs wrapped around her and praised you on how good you were being. round three was on the bed, plush blankets surrounding you while your hair was splayed around you like a halo. she told you how proud of you she was, how it was just gonna be a little more.
now she’s impatient. the only thought in her brain was to breed you, make you hers. fuck you full of her cum. ruin you for other people.
after the last round she’d flipped you so that your stomach was against the bed. she’d pulled your hips up to meet her own but you’d made the mistake of clawing the sheets, almost like you were trying to run away.
bada didn’t like that.
she wraped her arm around your neck and yanked you up against her. your arms couldnt find purchase anywhere other than gripping her forearm. tears were streaming down your face. you felt so fucking full. cum was leaking out of you with every thrust.
“’s too much baby— please.”
bada kisses your temple in response,
“jus’ a little more.” bada groans out, “you’re so fucking ungrateful. maybe a knot would shut you the fuck up—” and bada’s eyes roll to the back of her head at the thought of it. she needed to so fucking bad. she kept cumming and cumming but felt no relief. she needed to knot you, she needed to plug you full just for her.
“you’re gonna look so pretty, angel. covered in my cum. wish i could take a picture and post it for everyone to see.”
bada’s hips stutter as she feels you clench around her. she swears she feels the beginning of a knot form.
“’m gonna cum in you again. ‘should cum on you this time. make you reek of me.”
bada releases you from her hold in favor of pressing you back into the mattress, muffling your yelps and moans.
“bet you’d like that. being covered in my spunk. at the end of the day, you’re my pretty, pretty, cum hungry whore. god—”
bada grasps at your hips, grinding her cock into you. your hands grip the sheets above you as you feel her knot catch at your opening. she fucks deeper into you,
“bet you wanna hang off my knot everyday. get fucked and bred morning and night.”
she leans down and intertwines your fingers with her own. her lips graze your ear as she whispers,
“i’d do it for you, too.”
and at this point, shes stuck inside of you, ready to burst. her brain is like mush as she keeps trying to get friction by grinding into you,
“id fuck you all day if i could. force myself into this pretty little pussy from the time i wake up until i’ve fucked you back to sleep. could spend hours in this cunt.”
her teeth graze the juncture between your neck and shoulder. a warning. a threat. a promise.
“wanna get you pregnant— fuck you full of my babies.”
bada can feel the beginnings of her orgasm begin, pleasure licking up her spine.
“i want it, bada. i’d do anything for you. anything to make you happy. please fuck me full. get me— ah fuck— get me pregnant. please bada please—”
bada’s eyes roll and her body tenses up as please wracks through her veins. her vision blurs and her hands grip yours so hard its starting to hurt. shes letting out airy whines and the occassional grunt as she empties herself inside of you. her head spins and she tries to ground herself by pressing kisses along your shoulder but, god, she feels like shes fucking floating.
you, on the other hand, felt like you were going to burst. you felt every spurt of cum inside of you. she was just pumping you full of her seed and it made you feel… good. warm. fuzzy. you could feel her big frame surround you as she nearly sobbed into your neck as she busts inside of you.
eventually, her hips stop stuttering and her cries turn into sniffles. her body relaxes into yours and her once stiff hands mold into your own, the grip significantly softer this time.
a couple minutes pass as you both relax a bit. bada speaks up,
“you okay, angel?” her thumb glides across your knuckles. her lips press soft kisses against the back of your neck.
“mhm… you’re heavy though.”
bada chuckles and removes her hands from yours. she peels herself up and repositions you two so that you’re both laying on your sides.
“i should chose a more… uhm.. comfortable position to.. uh..”
you roll your eyes. she cannot be serious right now.
“are you fucking stuttering right now.”
“no! no— i. i am not stuttering i’m just…” she trails off, embarrassed. she shoves her face into your neck,
“can i please catch a break? i just came like four times baby PLEASE—”
── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──
a/n: thank you for your patience with me while i was gone!! im back and with gp!bada nonetheless... please please please give me feedback on this. i've never fully written gp! so do let me know if you liked, disliked, etc! thank you 🫶🏽 missed you all fr 🌟
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atticrissfinch · 5 months
Text
The Night Is Dark Enough We're Only Seeing Stars  | (joel miller x fem!reader) (18+)
Part 2 of Meet Me in the Back
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pairing: sleazy gas station clerk!joel miller x fem!reader summary: You can’t resist another visit to Joel in all his pervy glory.  warnings/tags:  [18+ MINORS DNI] age gap (no specifics), daddy!kink, breeding!kink, size!kink, fingering, brief oral (m receiving), unprotected piv (back on my bullshit u kno), creampie, smoking (reader and joel), mild tummy bulge kink, casual shoplifting, Joel still using cringey dirty talk but he’s still old and creepy so it’s still hot word count: ~4.7K | ao3 a/n: plot is hella thin here, I really just wanted to write this old creepy fucker again, and I know all y’all wanted more of him too ❤️❤️ Series Masterlist | Masterlist
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Your friend has her head thrown back in laughter as she pushes you through the familiar glass doors of the convenience store. 
“There is no fucking way he said that!”
You spin around to face her, walking backwards once you both clear the doorway. “He did, Mandy. And what makes it worse is I didn’t even fucking kick him out after. I just went with it.” 
Your friend leads you down the candy aisle, a disgustingly amused expression on her face. “After calling your pussy an ‘angry beaver’? Bitch, you’ve cracked. No more weird fucking hookups, we need to find you an actual fucking boyfriend.”
He’s here. Of course, he’s here. And when you hazard a peek up to the front counter, there he sits. On his filthy old man perch. A Sports Illustrated drooping between his thighs this time. He’s already sneaking a look at you when you sneak yours, and your eyes meet for barely half a second before they dart back to Mandy browsing the wares. 
Even with only observing a flash of his face, you could tell he was smirking. Staring. 
If only Mandy knew how truly fucked up your hookups have been. One in particular. You hadn’t deigned to inform her of your back room romp with the embarrassingly well-hung specimen behind the counter, and you intend to keep it that way. 
That was the lowest of the low for you. Bending over for the elderly should be considered charity work. You’re a goddamn philanthropist. You should’ve received more than just booze and cigarettes. 
“Gummy worms or Sour Patch Watermelons?”
You shake yourself out of your stupor, seeing Mandy bent over at the waist to view her options. 
A single cursory glance back proves just what you assumed—Joel is eyeing her ass hungrily as her short dress teases up the globes of her ass. You shift your body, obstructing his field of view as you chirp up, “Both.”
“Hell yeah,” Mandy says approvingly, grabbing the two packages. She straightens up and heads back to the refrigerators. “You want a Dr Pepper?” She throws over her shoulder. 
“Yes, please,” You affirm, cheating your own look back over your shoulder where Joel’s eyes are back on you—or, rather, your ass in your denim cutoffs. “Hey, I’ll meet you back up front?”
“You got it,” She waves off, and you lose sight of her as she rounds the aisle. 
You stalk up to the counter, where Joel sits positively shameless, eyes raking over you before meeting your eyes. “Well, howdy,” He rumbles, dropping his magazine onto the counter. 
You lean in slightly and say in a snippy whisper, “Stop fucking staring.”
Joel smacks his lips silently and snatches back up his magazine, burying his nose in it exaggeratedly and glancing up at you over the top of it. He gives you a look as if to say “Better?”
You roll your eyes and catch Mandy approaching the counter out of the corner of your vision. 
“How are the articles?” Mandy stifles a laugh as she drops her haul onto the counter and nods at the magazine. 
“Downright enlightenin’, darlin’,” He drawls, slumping the magazine onto the counter again and scanning the first item. 
Mandy rests an arm on your shoulder, leaning against you slightly. “Keep your eyes to yourself, you fucking creep,” Mandy says, no doubt catching the way Joel’s eyes keep flicking from the counter to both of your chests. “It’s not a fucking peep show.”
Joel peaks his eyebrows in a quick motion and cricks his neck to the side with a barely concealed grin. “‘Course it’s not. Sorry, darlin’.”
Your cheeks burn as your fingers tap impatiently at the counter. 
“$11.32,” He recites, chewing on the inside of his cheek as his eyes meet yours again. “‘Less you got somethin’ else for me?”
“Ew, fuck off you geriatric horndog!” Mandy spits out, jamming her card into the machine and snatching it out as soon as it starts beeping. “We don’t need a bag,” She lashes, gathering your snacks in her arms and heading right out the door. 
“Come back anytime,” Joel invites again, same as last time, taking up his “reading material” once again. 
You toss him a disgusted look. “Fuck off.”
Just to spite him, you snatch up a BIC lighter from the display at the register, wave it in his face tauntingly, and storm out the door with it. He doesn’t even blink. 
“Fucking tiny dick skeeze,” Mandy mutters as you clamber into her car and she speeds off. 
You keep your mouth shut. 
Mandy leaves your place around 2 AM after a single text from her current fuck buddy. You feel pathetic, lying on your couch alone. 
And you feel horny from Joel’s eyes on you earlier. 
You can’t shake that night, and you’ve fucking tried. You have never in your fucking life had dick that had you down for the count the way his had. 
And you fucking hate that he was right about being the best dick you’ll ever have. You know you said it about your own pussy too, but that had just been talk. Your pussy is fucking fantastic, but holy shit, his cock. That’s a cock women would go to battle over. That’s the cock that would’ve kickstarted the Trojan War in an alternate universe. The fact that it’s Joel who the dick is attached to is…unfortunate. But you don’t know, it actually kind of works for you. The taboo, the filth, the cringey dirty talk. It all culminates into the kind of fuck nasty sex that a lot of women would kill for. It’s almost a shame to only experience it once. 
A damn…damn shame. 
You’re out the door in twenty more minutes. 
You tilt your head back against the brick of the building as you take a drag off one of your Joel cigarettes, lit with your newly procured BIC. 
It doesn’t take long for him to notice. 
The door chimes, and Joel is leaning back onto the wall next to you, his hands buried in the pockets of his bootcut jeans. Similar wife-beater from that night under a different patterned button-up. Cross still dangling from his neck. 
“Bum a cig?”
You size him up with a nose scrunched in distaste. “Get your own.”
“Bit more expensive for me considerin’ I don’t fuck for my smokes. I buy ‘em with my hard-earned cash.”
“Bully for you,” You mutter, taking another drag. 
Joel rolls onto his side against the wall, a palm up in the air. “I gave you the damn things. ‘Least you can do is spare one.”
You glance down at his hand and sigh. You tug the carton from your back pocket and drop one into his palm. 
“Thank ya kindly,” He offers, bringing the stick to his lips. “Gimme a light with your stolen merchandise?”
You ignore the comment with an eye roll, but hold up the lighter. He ignites the tip and inhales with a gracious nod. As he exhales, his eyes roam your body. 
“Wouldn’t mind dippin’ my cigarette back into that toasty little fire between your legs.”
You snort, bringing your own cig back to your lips. “In your dreams.”
Joel shrugs. “I’d say it’s more likely to be in yours. I sure as hell wasn’t the one quiverin’ in a sundress on the stockroom floor after I got a good dickin’.”
“Yeah right. I barely remember that so-called good dickin’,” You play off, poorly imitating his accent with air quotes. 
“Then what’re you doin’ here so late, little miss?”
“Needed some air.”
“Ain’t got air outside your place?”
“Needed gas.”
“Ain’t that your little car in that parking spot over there?” Joel nods toward you little Honda civic a couple stalls over in front of the building. 
“How do you know which one my car is?” You ask, despite it being entirely plausible that he’s seen you driving up before. 
“It’s the only goddamn one in the lot, darlin’.”
You roll your eyes again. 
“Besides. Watched you leave last time.”
“Creep.”
“Whore.”
You glare at him, rolling off the wall and stubbing your light out in the ashtray on the trash receptacle. “You know what, I don’t need this. This little tussle with you. I’m out.”
As you turn to go, his hand clamps onto your shoulder and shoves your back against the wall. “Not so fast,” Joel coos, invading your space with his cigarette still smoldering between his fingers. “I ain’t even got a taste yet.”
You shrink back against the wall, your eyes roving for anybody passing by. Whether for help, or checking for prying eyes, you’re not entirely sure. 
Then Joel’s lips are at your ear, his hand on your hip, the other against the wall at your head, cigarette between his knuckles. “Just one more taste, sweetheart. I know you been cravin’ it too.”
You shudder as his tongue pokes out, traces the shell of your ear. “I haven’t been craving shit,” You insist, your words contrasting the lack of resoluteness in your voice. 
“Then why your legs already tremblin’, sweetheart?”
“Cold,” You whisper, your eyes drifting shut as his chapstick-smothered lips mouth at your neck. 
“Plenty warm inside,” He smirks against your skin, the hand at your hip skating down your shorts to your crotch. “‘N I’d like to get somewhere a little warmer too, ‘f you catch my drift.”
You swallow, your resolve crumbling rapidly as his fingers rub right over your pussy through the layer of denim. “I…”
“Come join me in the back again, sweetheart. I can feel your kitty purrin’, even though your clothes.”
“Fuck,” You spit out, shoving off the wall and shoulder checking him as you head to the door. You hear his chuckle behind you as he hangs back a moment to stub out his smoke and then catches the door before it shuts. You hear the lock bolt on your way to the back room, and then he’s at your back, gripping your hips and pulling you against his bulging erection as you scurry into the room. 
Then his lips are on your neck, his hands groping your tits, his knee between your legs. 
“Such a slutty little thing. Don’t take hardly no convincin’ to give it up again,” Joel slobbers down your collarbone, shoving your v-neck down under your tits to suckle them. 
“Fuck you,” You sigh, unable to keep the heated desire out of your voice as you grind down on his thigh and clutch your fingers into his hair. 
“Yeah, you missed Daddy Joel’s big fuckin’ cock, didn’t ya? Can’t stop thinkin’ about it tearin’ up that little gash between your legs,” He grunts, rutting his thigh against your pussy as you fuck down onto it. 
“Please,” You whine, your fingers stumbling over the button of your shorts and shimmying them off your legs. “Just fuck me.”
“Oh, she wants it bad this time, huh? Makin’ puddles on my goddamn floor.” Joel grips you by your hair at the scalp and cranes your head up to look at him, at the primal, animalistic darkness in his eyes. “Whaddya wanna get fucked with, darlin’?”
“Y-your cock,” You stutter out, hands reaching out to unbutton his jeans. But they freeze when he yanks back on your hair again, face snarling into yours. 
“Whose cock? Tell me whose cock.”
“Y-your—”
“Nu-uh. Whose cock? Say it.”
You scour your brain, and there’s only one thing you think he’d want to hear. And, god, you don’t want to say it. But, fuck, him making you say it…it makes your pussy leak down your thighs. 
“D-d-daddy Joel’s cock.”
His eyes fall closed as he inhales deeply, only reopening them once he’s expelled the breath. “That’s right, little bitch. Gonna get fucked stupid on Daddy Joel’s cock, aren’t ya?”
You whimper, grabbing for the button in his pants again. “Yes, Daddy.”
“Mmm,” He rumbles from his chest at the word, his forehead falling against the door by your head as he lets you undo his jeans. “Gonna have you screamin’ and creamin’ on it again, just like last time.”
“Fucking shit,” You breathe out as you attempt to wrap your hand around his huge length. “How are you so fucking big?”
“Good lord blessed me real nice,” He croons in your ear as his fingers brush teasingly over your pussy lips. “First when I was born, then when those perfect little tits waltzed into my store.”
“Such a charmer,” You mutter, focusing on the feel of his rough fingers on your sensitive skin between your thighs. 
“Noticed you learned your lesson about your panties from last time, didn’t ya?” Joel says, slipping his middle finger into your folds and teasing your clit. 
“I’m a quick study,” You remark, tilting the head of his cock toward your opening. 
Joel’s forehead presses against your temple as his hips twitch forward. “Where’s that damn condom of yours?”
Your senses flood back to you all at once as you realize how close the bare head of his cock is to your pussy. And after you give yourself a moment to breathe, you think—just maybe—not all your sense has returned. “Shit, I guess I’m fresh out.”
Joel retracts, searching your eyes for…something. And when he doesn’t find it, a Cheshire grin spreads across his face. “Goddamn. Nasty girl.”
“Shut up,” You mumble, hitching your leg over his hip and angling his cock right where you want it. “Just fuck me.”
“So goddamn impatient tonight. Can’t fuckin’ wait for this cock. So desperate you’re lettin’ a man you hardly know rawdog this little cunt, huh? Well I got it right here for ya.”
Joel’s hand grips your hair, holding your head up so your eyes peer directly into his. You whimper as your scalp prickles in pain and your cunt clenches in anticipation. 
“You look right at me, darlin’. Right at fuckin’ me when I split this pussy open.”
You nod frantically, your eyes never leaving his. And god, his face really is fucking beautiful. The lines in his skin, the angles of his jawbone, the curvature of his nose. The plumpness of his bottom lip falling ajar when the head of his cock slides through your slick pussy lips. You have the sudden urge to bite it. But your eyes shift back to his own right as he presses against your entrance. 
Your hands fly to the back of his neck, your nails digging into the skin there as the thick head pushes past the opening of your cunt. Your mouth drops open, your eyelids fluttering as you struggle to keep eye contact with Joel through the painful pleasure. “Oh fuckshitjesuschrist,” you blabber, your cunt squeezing around the intrusion. 
“Yeah, you feel that cock stretchin’ you open? You remember this dick now? Still ‘barely remember’ Daddy Joel wreckin’ this pussy?” He says snidely, emphasizing by shoving another inch inside you. 
“Please just shut up and fuck me,” You beg, the heel of your foot fighting for a proper hold at his lower back until Joel’s hand grips under your knee to facilitate your spread. 
Joel groans as the shift has him sliding deeper inside your tight opening. “Love you wide open like this, darlin’. Nowhere for that little hole to hide from this fat cock Daddy Joel’s givin’ ya, huh?”
You knock your head back against the door as Joel breaks you open in short bursts, reaching the end of you with a deep grunt against your collarbone. You breath through the oversized intrusion, the stinging stretch of your pussy sending sparks of pleasure up your spine. You’re much more prepared to take him this time—not so much physically, but mentally—and that is doing fucking wonders for you. 
“Fuck, that’s still such a tight little snatch, sweetheart,” He groans, snapping his hips up into you as you gasp. His tip rams into your cervix, making your stomach seize and your pussy constrict around him. Your fingers tear at the collar of his loose button up, and he follows your lead, ripping it off his shoulders and chucking it to the ground. His biceps flex as he grips you again, squeezing your thigh hitched onto his hip and pressing a hand to the front column of your neck. He strokes the skin there with his thumb, not choking, but a heavy reminder that it’s him who is in this grimy room with you. Him who is fucking you breathless. Him who has you by the throat, physically and metaphorically. 
He’s the reason you came back. 
Joel’s grunting thrusts have you going lightheaded even without the assistance of his hand on your neck. On one particularly brutal thrust, he subsequently pulls out of you until you’re completely, achingly empty again. You whimper as you clench around the nothingness left behind by his girth, and tip your head down to watch him, his voracious eyes, as he cups your pussy with his hand and pushes three fingers inside you with no additional stretch. You moan as he pistons his fingers inside you, leaning out to see you swallow them whole. 
“Please put it back,” You beg, thrusting your hips down onto his hand to try and feel that all-consuming stretch that only his cock has ever given you. 
He chuckles darkly, crooking his fingers and finding exactly what he was looking for with minimal effort, making you buck your hips in desperation. “Yeah? You want this big cock back inside you?”
“Yes, need it now, fuck,” You groan, despite the spike of pleasure his fingers are fucking into you. “Need you to fill me.”
Joel grits his teeth with a filthy snarl. “Can’t stand how fuckin’ empty you feel without me, huh? Eatin’ up three of my fingers and it ain’t enough.”
“It’s not, please,” You whine, and that has Joel humming a satisfied growl. 
“Yeah, fuckin’ beg for it. Daddy likes that. Beg daddy for his cock.”
“Fuck, please give me your cock.”
“Please who?”
“Please, daddy,” You moan with as much desperation as you can muster, hands pawing at his hips and jerking them closer to you by his slumping belt loops. 
“Come for me first,” He instructs, his fingers still working your g spot and adding two fingers to circle your clit in tandem. 
“Fuck,” You moan, not able to argue the heat building inside you as he tears you apart with his fingers. 
“Come on, come for daddy. Spit that pussy juice all over my fuckin’ fingers. Show me how much you want it.”
“I want it, I promise!”
“Then fuckin’ show me. Horny little fuckin’ bitch. Can feel you squeezin’ these fingers. Give it to me.”
Your teeth pierce into your bottom lip as your hips grind against his fingers until you cry out, feeling your body go rigid with pleasure as your orgasm washes over you. He fucks you through it with his own lustful commentary of crude compliments, spewing filth about how your body takes whatever it gets and how sexy you are when you come for him. 
Before you have time to fully recover, he’s withdrawing his soaked fingers and sliding his full length inside of you once more, your pussy still pulsing with your release. 
“Fuck, chokin’ my goddamn cock, sweetheart. Yeah, give this juicy pussy to your daddy,” He rasps, setting a punishing pace inside you as you come down from your high. 
“It’s s-so fucking much,” You stutter out, your arms landing around his neck and nails indenting at the base of it. 
“Yeah, and your naughty fuckin’ clam is clutchin’ it like a pearl, ain’t it?” He snarls, burying a hand into your hair and using the leverage to help pull himself into your body. “Or, I’m sorry, would you prefer I call it your angry beaver?”
Your breath catches in your throat at his little taunt, the proof that he was eavesdropping on your conversation with Mandy about another hookup. “Shut the fuck up.”
“Awww, don’t like it when I say it?” He teases, nipping at your neck and making you squeal. 
“The shit you say is—fuck—already rancid enough.”
He laughs eerily soft in your ear and forces another yelp out of you with a particularly harsh thrust. “You like how I talk to you, I can fuckin’ tell. Gets you the fuck off.”
He pulls out suddenly and wheels you around, tugging you with him as he crashes heavily onto a box, the cardboard caving slightly under his weight. He shuffles his pants further down his thighs. “Come sit on daddy’s cock now.”
You amble over, eyeing the sagging box and anticipating whether it’s going to collapse entirely with your added weight. 
“‘S fuckin’ industrial size toilet paper. Believe me, it’ll go through much worse,” He quips when he notices your hesitance, knocking the side of the box with his fist. “Come on, plenty tall enough to ride this ride, sweetheart,” He jokes, patting a hand on his thigh and pulling on his cock in invitation. 
Watching his hand wrapped around his length, stroking it so gratuitously and showcasing how much of a fucking monster he has between his legs, has your brain in overdrive wondering how the fuck you fit that thing inside you. How the fuck you can just sit down on it without it prodding at your stomach. 
Maybe it does, your mind provides. Maybe you’ve just never noticed. 
Your pussy clenches and you swallow. Then you step forward. 
Joel grabs your hand with his free one and helps you stumble onto the box, straddling his thick thighs until you feel his tip teasing at your hole. 
“Gotta hurry it up, darlin’. Can’t be closed forever. Go on and stuff up that little cunt.”
“Sorry, fuck, you’re just…”
“Already stretched ya out, darlin’. Just gonna be a little deeper like this. Wanna be all the way up in those fuckin’ guts of yours,” He grunts as you ease down on him from above. 
Your head lulls back as you sink down on him with a moan, chickening out about halfway down his shaft and keeping your bounces shallow as you open around him. 
Joel lets you acclimate for a few moments, mouth dropped open in a sly smile as you pleasure yourself on him. 
“Don’t be shy on me now, dirty girl,” Joel purrs, curling his arms under your arms and over your shoulders and yanking you all the way down his cock until your ass smacks against his thighs. You shriek embarrassingly loud, your eyes blowing open and your throat tingling from the shredding noise. “There we fuckin’ go. Take the whole fuckin’ thing, little bitch,” He growls through gritted teeth, fucking his hips up into you as he holds you all the way down. 
Stars spark in your blurry vision as he pounds into your cervix, your thighs shuddering under you and your lungs devoid of air as you bear the onslaught. 
“You feel this cock ticklin’ that fuckin’ tummy of yours? Feel where I’m gonna squirt all my fuckin’ seed inside you?” 
Your eyes threaten to roll back into your head, and shame burns through your cheeks that it’s not from annoyance, but arousal. 
“Y-yeah, I f-f-feel it,” You force out, digging your nails into Joel’s bulging shoulders, raking down to his meaty arms. 
“That make your little snatch quiver, huh? Daddy Joel bein’ so fuckin’ deep? Shootin’ his babies right into that whore womb? Makin’ your tummy bulge with a little brat like my cock is right now?”
“Fuck,” You squeak out, lifting your weight enough to drop back onto him, silently asking that he loosen his hold on you. He picks up your cue, slipping his hands from your shoulders and onto your waist as you begin to slam onto his cock with the assistance of him pulling down on your hips, meeting his upward thrusts with a slew of guttural moans with each brutal impact. 
“Yeah, tear yourself apart on this fuckin’ cock for me. Milk those fuckin’ babies outta me,” He grunts, his grip bruising on your skin as you plunge down on him. 
Your hand plummets between your aching thighs and scrubs at your clit frantically, tipping you over what had already been building for several minutes, and shouting out your second orgasm as your pussy flutters around his massive length. 
“Oh shit, darlin’, here it fuckin’ comes,” He groans out, cramming you down onto his cock and holding you hostage as he bursts inside you, rope after rope of his hot seed spilling against your walls and claiming you as his little breeding toy. 
“Oh my god,” You pant out, your forehead colliding with his sweaty shoulder as you grind in his lap, letting him feel the slide of his own come intermingled with yours inside you. 
He groans at the stimulation, but doesn’t stop your movement, just dips down and sucks a nipple into his mouth. He scrapes along it with his teeth before letting it pop back out. “Gotta be able to teach the little one how it’s done,” He mumbles against the rounded flesh of your tit, then takes the peak of it into his mouth again. 
And now that the haze is wearing off, his words have you stifling a gag in your throat. “Fuck off, I’m protected,” You mutter blearily, half-heartedly shoving at his cheek with your hand to remove him from the latch he has on your chest. 
“Didn’t feel those dumb fuckin’ tassels ticklin’ my pecker when it was poundin’ your little baby cave,” Joel states as he lathes over your untouched nipple with his tongue and envelops that one with his mouth as well. 
“Jesus, do you ever even listen to yourself talk?” You cringe, “I feel like I need to record it and play it back to you sometime, just so you know how fucking disgusting you sound.”
Joel halts and then slowly undocks from your tit with a nasty grin. “We can film anythin’ you want, darlin’.”
“Oh, fucking gross, dude. No way.”
Joel shrugs with a raised brow and that nasty grin still in place. “Suit yourself. I’m always willin’.”
“And I don’t have an IUD,” You mumble in response to his prior comment cloaked in crass verbiage, “It’s a thing in my arm. Not that it’s any of your business.”
“Good,” Joel grunts out as you push yourself up off his cock and let it fall free onto his lap, leaving you devastatingly empty in a way you struggle deeply to never want to crave again. “Those stupid fuckers are a pain in the ass for those of us that’ve been well-blessed like your daddy.”
“Not my ‘daddy’,” You mutter as you pull your shorts back on and rearrange your shirt. “And this isn’t happening ever again. This was a moment of weakness.”
“Whatever you gotta tell yourself, sweetheart,” He panders, leaning back on his arms as he watches you dress. When you’re as presentable as you’re going to be, Joel’s cock is still hanging limp on his thigh, wet and smeared with your shared juices. “Come clean up your clam’s pearly little mess, darlin’,” He purrs, looping his fingers around his cock and balls and giving himself a squeeze. 
You glance to the door and fuss your lip with your teeth. “Don’t you have to…”
“Only take a second. Come on now,” He coaxes, spreading his thighs as wide as his scrunched jeans will allow. 
You lower yourself to your knees and shuffle between his legs, tilting your head to lick a stripe up the underside of him. The sharp, bitter flavor of his spend along with your slickness lays heavy on your tongue as you swallow down your first taste. 
Joel hums his satisfaction as he holds his dick steady and upright for you to clean. You dive back in to mouth at him, sucking up the sides and flicking into his slit just to see him jerk in overstimulation. You can’t imagine what it would be like to actually take him down your throat, given how wide he feels just from wrapping your lips around the outside of him. You give him one more long, unhurried lick up the vein trailing up the underside of him before finishing with a kiss to the head. 
“Happy?”
“As your little clam,” He quips with a wink and a toothy grin as he hoists his pants up over his hips and hides that fucking glorious cock from your sight for, surely, the last time. Without a doubt. Definitely. The last time. 
Part 3
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1K notes · View notes
yuwuta · 4 months
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mine. — inumaki toge
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❝i just wanna say you’re mine, you’re mine; fuck what you heard, you’re mine, you’re mine.
000. inumaki toge + reader
001. fluff, non-curse/college au, slightly suggestive but barely, inumaki uses sign language and speaks like two actual verbal words
002. baby sized drabble, barely even 1k words
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Toge would consider himself patient. He doesn’t mind waiting in long lines for the release of a new game, has no problem when the trains are delayed because it means he can sit and relax in the station a little longer, can sit for hours on end doing nothing and not be bored—but his tolerance for watching other people mess with his girlfriend is extremely low.
He reasons that you continue the conversation because you think it’s merely friend and polite to do so, and you’ve always been such a pleasantly happy drunk. But Toge knows this conversation isn’t friendly on the other end—and it’s not some protective boyfriend instinct, either, he has solid evidence of this idiot talking about you to his other idiot friend in front of Toge during lecture, with no knowledge that he was behind them, or that you are very not single.
(“She’s gorgeous, bro, look,” the kid muses, showing his friend your Instagram profile, “She’s in my bioethics class, and she’s easily the hottest girl. Smart, too. Little bit of a teacher’s pet, but I don’t care, she’s beautiful. A solid eight, for sure.”)
Toge knows that if this guy ever got his head out of his ass and ever bucked up the balls to actually ask you out instead of using roundabout flirting tactics and hopelessly pining over you during lectures, that you’d turn him down. He isn’t worried about losing you, and he doesn’t doubt your love for him. It does, however, concern him that there are people who believe they have a shot with you in the first place. He can’t possibly let that carry on. 
(Also, an eight? How could this guy call you beautiful, but say you’re an eight? It doesn’t equate—Toge doesn’t believe in rating women, but you’re not an eight. You’re a fifteen on a scale of one to ten; a shining star amongst a sea of planets; the love of his life). 
His fuse is about to blow when the guy touches you, reaches for your hair and carefully twirls a bit between his fingers. He knows that move; he knows the excuse was probably that there was something stuck to your hair, but Toge didn’t see shit. He’s had enough, and promptly bulldozes through Maki’s small apartment to reach you. He’s not sure if he’s making a ruckus, or if you can sense him coming, but you turn your head in his direction, a smile spreading on your face before cheering, “Hey, Toge! Do you—”
You’re cut off by a tug on your shirt, firm and impatient—but you’re not moving yet, not quick enough, so he does it again. Your eyes seem to light up with realization. You turn back to acknowledge the boy, and that’s really when Toge really loses it. All he hears is the stupid, desperate pitch of the kid’s voice sputtering out something about finding you later and grabbing drinks for you both, even as Toge’s dragging you through the crowd.
You let yourself be pulled by Toge’s greedy hand. It’s not all that far, just into a corner of the hallway, next to a closet where Maki keeps her cleaning and kickboxing supplies. He’s tempted to pull you into her bedroom, but he’s not up for being bruised for a week. 
“You okay?” you question, voice sweet and genuine—and it makes him grimace, because you really didn’t have a clue. Not one at all. 
Toge huffs, drops your hand to sign; using his left hand to circle around his face slowly, tapping at his chin. You understand, but only partially, given the slight tilt of your head and question that follows, “Beautiful? That’s why you’re upset?” 
He blinks slowly, shaking his head and flailing his arms in the direction of the living room. You follow his hands, down the hall then back to his face, but he can tell you still don’t get it. He tries again, pointing to you, then repeating his previous sign and adding another, and he can see the realization spread across your face, followed shortly by a bashful chuckle. 
“Too pretty? Me?” you ask to confirm. Toge nods his head, all serious and steely eyes, but you throw yours back with a hearty laugh this time. He crinkles his eyebrows, repeating his initial signs this time. Hdoesn’t know what’s so funny, if you’re laughing because you’re flattered or you find him ridiculous or something in between, but Toge means it either way; wants to ingrain it into you, just how beautiful you are.
So, he raises his hands again, when your eyes have met him again, and goes slower this time—pulls his mask down for good measure, so you can read his expression more clearly—to sign one simple word: “Mine.”
You tilt your head to the side again, and now Toge is the one laughing. He thinks you might be a little more drunk than you’ve let on, or maybe you just want him to indulge you. Either way, he has no problem repeating himself, doesn’t mind telling you again and again and again. 
He takes a step forward, leaving mere inches between you. You seem much smaller than him like this, still giggling, but he doesn’t mind. Toge reaches for your rest again, turning your palm upward and using a single finger to trace the letters of the word “mine,” onto your skin.
Your laughter comes to a halt when you verbalize his words, “Mine?” Toge nods, turning your wrist again to lace your hands together, pushes yours against the wall, uses his free one to cradle your cheek. He adores the way your pupils get bigger, the way your lips part slightly in anticipation. It’s his turn to smile, pulling you towards him for a kiss and ghosting his words over your lips, “You’re mine.”
2K notes · View notes
soullumii · 11 months
Text
stranded | joel miller x f!reader
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pairing: joel miller x afab!fem!reader
summary: you get stranded in the middle of a blizzard. joel comes to your rescue. you share a bed for warmth. things escalate from there...
warnings/tags: 18+ content, MDNI!, smutttttt yurrrr (vaginal fingering, unprotected piv sex, dubious consent, lil bit of somnophilia, joel is packinggg), no outbreak!joel, modern au, implied age gap, soft!joel, pet names (peach, baby, darlin', sweet girl, sweetheart), lil bit of joel being jelly, cuddling to keep the cold at bay, fluff, NO USE OF Y/N
word count: 7.6k (idk what the fuck happened)
“Damn it!” 
You press down hard on the gas pedal, grimacing when your engine revs but the car doesn’t move an inch.
Your tires skid uselessly over the snow and your headlights reflect into a white wall of nothing—the snowfall so thick you can’t see anything in front of or around you, as if you’re trapped in a snow globe. The road is practically gone from existence.
The only thing you can hear is the wind whistling and the staticky sound of Carrie Underwood’s ‘Jesus Take the Wheel’ going in and out on the radio.
Yeah, you wish he would right about now. 
“Fuuuck,” you whine, eyes stinging with unshed tears. You hit your wheel in frustration, dropping your forehead onto the horn. It honks pityingly. 
Of course, the one time you were actually going out, you had forgotten to check the weather. 
You’re probably going to die out here on this back road through the woods. There’s no one around, not that you can tell, and you’re low on gas. You were going to fill up once you got out of the woods and back into civilization, but the blizzard had other plans.
Your stomach rumbles, crying out for the dinner you had skipped in hopes of having a hearty, post-sex meal with the hook-up you are—or were—on the way to see. Though, that’s certainly not happening, and the snacks you usually had stuffed into the glovebox are gone, your sister having stolen them last week after you dropped her off at school.
(Darn that growing goober!) 
You don’t have anything that might prove useful in this situation besides the long, slim heels on your pumps (which could be used in defense), and the thin peacoat wrapped around your shoulders. You check your phone to see if you can call a towing company, but of course, it has zero bars. 
“Shit, shit, shit,” you whimper, pressing the heel of your palm to your watering eyes. 
“It’s gonna be fine,” you say to yourself, picking your head up and rubbing away the tears in your eyes. You take deep breaths and put the car into park. “You’ll be fine.”
The sudden sound of a knock on your window startles you so bad you yelp, jumping in place as ice cold terror rises up your spine. 
You can hardly see who had knocked, only their gray silhouette in the white blizzard.
The stranger knocks again. 
“You alright in there?” The shadow asks, a hint of a Texan accent curling their vowels. Shit. It’s a man. 
You slowly grab your shoe from your foot, holding it so the heel faces the window, and snow blows into your face as you carefully roll it down an inch or two for precaution, because who knows if it’s a fucking cannibal-axe-murderer who preys on unsuspecting women stranded in the snow. Maybe he does this every year—maybe this is his prime harvesting place and time. 
Your eyes are wide as you peer through the opening warily, heel at the ready. 
He’s close enough now that you can make out a prominent scowl, hard brown eyes, salt and pepper hair…
…wait a minute. You’d recognize that glower anywhere.
“Joel?”
Your lungs suddenly remember how to work again, and you inhale on a shaky breath. The hand holding your shoe drops to your thigh in relief.
His brown eyes narrow. “Peach…? The hell are you doin’ out here?” He asks, and Jesus you forgot about that stupid nickname he gave you. It sends butterflies loose in your stomach. “It’s a goddamn blizzard.” 
You scowl in exasperation, though, at his obvious observation. “Yeah, I think I know that, Joel. What are you doing here?”
“I heard a honk, figured someone needed help.” He looks you up and down, his gaze lingering on the circles of mascara around your eyes. “Guess I’m right.”
You straighten in your seat, the gratitude you feel at his presence is overshadowed by the need to look self sufficient and capable, because you are. You’re a grown ass woman! So…
“I don’t need your help,” you huff.
He arches a brow. “Really.” It’s not a question.
You glower. “Maybe.”
Joel leans an arm on the frame of your car, and taps your window once more. “C’mon. Let’s go.” 
God, this is so embarrassing!
“Fine.” You roll up the window and turn off the car. Joel tugs the car door open as far as it can go and offers a gloved hand to help you out. You wobble a bit when you step out in your heels, grateful that Joel is there to steady you. Though, the feeling sours a bit when he huffs in disbelief at your shoes. 
You send him a glare, “I had plans for tonight, okay?”
“In the middle of a blizzard?” He deadpans.
“It wasn’t that bad when I first started driving.”
“Riiiight,” he drawls, “Well, I’m sorry to say, peach, but you ain’t driving in this mess anymore. You can stay with me tonight.” He says, closing the car door behind you. 
Stay? With him? 
“Joel, I couldn’t bother you with—“
“I wouldn’t offer if it was a bother.”
Joel’s as stubborn as a bull, more so than Ellie. And she is stubborn. You don’t argue, because it’s fruitless to argue with a brick wall like him. And, faced with freezing to death out here or staying in a well-insulated building, choosing the latter is obviously the right thing to do.
“Okay,” you relent and point to your trunk. “I have a bag back there.”
He raises a brow. “Heels and a bag…What kind of plans were we talkin’ about here?”
A hook up, Joel, you mentally drawl. Because…that’s exactly why you were out. 
Like hell you’ll tell Joel that, though, he’d disapprove. He’s always been the protective type. You’ve known him since your junior year in college, after your families practically merged. But you’ve never seen Joel as another dad. He’s always been…something else to you.
“A trip to Nunya.” You supply instead of the truth, crossing your arms over your chest to try and conserve some heat. 
“Nunya?” Joel’s brows furrow. 
“Yeah. Nunya business, Joel.” You give him a sardonic smile. 
He shakes his head and sends you a look you’re quite familiar with, the one that makes you feel inches smaller. And ten degrees hotter. 
Joel sighs in exasperation and wordlessly wrenches the trunk open. He slings your bag over his shoulder as if it weighs nothing.
(It weighs a lot. You’d know, you shoved five different erotica books in there, just in case your date failed to make you orgasm.)
(Though thinking about Joel probably would’ve been enough.) 
You lock your vehicle with a bemused glance. “What are we gonna do about my car?” 
“I’ll tow it out tomorrow,” Joel says. “Roads are a fuckin’ mess right now.”
You trudge behind Joel to his quaint cottage sleeping cozily between tall pine trees and chubby evergreens. The porch light is on, and the windows glow a comforting orange. Puffs of smoke drift up from the chimney. It looks warm and inviting, like straight out of a Christmas movie. 
You’re impressed at how close you managed to strand yourself to his house. Maybe Jesus really did take the wheel. 
Joel kicks the snow off his boots on his front porch, then opens the door, gesturing for you to enter first. 
When you breach the doorway with Joel at your heels, warmth settles over your cold-bitten cheeks along with an alluring aroma of meat and tomato and spices that hits you in a wave. You’ve never seen Joel cook anything other than Chef Boyardee Beefaroni, or burgers on Tommy’s rusting grill before, so this is certainly a surprise. It could be Sarah or Ellie’s cooking, but last time you checked, Sarah could cook eggs and Ellie could cook, well, nothing.
“So did you hire a personal chef to make whatever smells so good?”
He sets your bag down in the foyer with a grunt and shrugs out of his coat. “I made it.”
You can’t help the disbelieving laugh that bursts out of you, and the slightly offended look on Joel’s face only makes it harder to stop. You cover your mouth with your hand, but you’re absolutely positive he can see the mirth lighting in your eyes.
Though he’s offended, there’s a twitch to his lip, as if he’s trying not to laugh. “I’m perfectly capable of cooking.”
“I’m sorry—I’m sorry,” you try to stamp down your giggles. “Yes, you’re capable but… is it edible?”
Your stomach decides in that moment to start rumbling, and he smirks.
“Guess you’ll have to find out.”
You take your coat off and follow Joel towards the kitchen. As you follow, you take in his aggressively Texan decor and furniture. Paintings of cowboys and horses and mountains are hung artfully on cozy, beige walls. The Eagles’ discography drifts merrily in the air from an old record player. There’s a guitar stationed in practically every corner. It’s all so very Joel, though the random space ornamentals and butterfly drawings sprinkled about are so very Ellie and Sarah. It makes you smile. 
“Where are the girls?” You ask, because usually those little stinkers would be stationed at the dining room table, bickering over the answer to a ridiculously difficult math problem.
“At Dina’s,” he answers, taking off his gloves and dropping them on the table. “They wanted to play in the snow.”
Oh. So you’re here alone with him. Anxiety prickles at the edges of your mind, sinking in your stomach.
“I guess I was the only one that didn’t know about the blizzard, then.” 
“You must be livin’ under a rock to not know about it.”
You grumble in protest, but your grievances disintegrate on your tongue as you enter the kitchen and near the simmering pot. You breathe in the aroma, the smell so powerful it's almost like you’re actually tasting it. 
You look over your shoulder at him. “Is this chili?”
He nods. “Want some?”
“Absolutely.”
He comes up beside you to open a cabinet. “Go ‘head make yourself comfortable on the couch. I’ll bring it out to you.” Your mouth dries at the sliver of skin that peeks out beneath his flannel as he reaches up.
You force yourself to turn around. “Wow. Such a gentleman, didn’t realize you were capable,” you say, your saccharine sweet tone doing well to mask how flustered you feel. You can breathe easier the second you exit the kitchen and enter the living room. 
His voice follows you. “A simple ‘thank you’ ‘stead'a this attitude would do you some good, y'know?"
"I know," you sing-song, grinning as you settle yourself down onto his couch, grabbing a blanket from a basket on the way. A fire crackles in the hearth and you study the flames with fascination as warmth spreads across your skin. You tug the blanket around you, pulling it up to your chin. 
Joel emerges a minute later and your gaze darts from the fire to the bowl he holds out to you. “Here.”
“Thank you, Joel,” you say emphatically, accepting the bowl and cradling it in your hands. 
He smiles, “There we go. Guess you do have some manners.”
You give him a half-bow. Joel just smiles in that familiar way, like you’re just so ridiculous he can’t believe it. It makes your stomach curl giddily. 
Having rolled up the sleeves of his flannel to his elbows, Joel’s forearms are on display, muscles flexing as he tosses another log into the hearth, and you drop your gaze to your chili, as to not get caught staring. He sits down in the armchair adjacent to you with his own bowl.
You blow on the steaming chili before taking a bite, an involuntary moan releasing from you the moment it hits your tongue—paprika, peppers, tomato, cumin. It warms your stomach pleasantly. Who knew Joel could cook so well?
“This is so good,” you mumble around your bite. 
He swallows his own chili down, pupils large as he watches you. “Edible enough for ya?”
You nod enthusiastically, “I’m sorry I ever doubted you.”
“Mmhmm,” he hums, unconvinced, but he’s smiling at you again, and you can’t help but return it. 
Comfortable silence lapses between the both of you as you eat your meals. Joel finishes first, of course, setting his bowl on the coffee table and leaning into his chair with a satisfied groan. He throws an arm over the back, spreading his legs. You watch him while he watches the fire, heat licking through you.
Eventually, after you slow down, you speak again.
“Thank you, Joel, seriously, for letting me stay.”
His eyes find yours and he nods. “‘Course, peach. Wouldn’t’ve let you freeze out there.” 
You nod and glance around, taking in his cabin. A large, stone fireplace is set in the wall, a tree trunk coffee table stationed in the center of the living room, some handmade wood carvings of horses and other animals scattered about. There’s a drawing of himself sitting on the mantel, “To: Joel, From: Ellie” signed at the bottom. Your heart swells. 
“It’s been awhile since I’ve been here,” you remark.
“I know,” Joel says. “You should come around more often. The girls miss you.”
Your smile turns shy and you feel a spike of bravery. “What about you? Do you miss me?” 
He takes a moment to answer, a veiny hand coming up to rub at his beard as he leans on the arm of the chair. Onyx eyes drag down your figure. “‘Course I do, darlin’” 
Heat pools hot and thick between your thighs at that look, and you’re about to press him about how much he really misses you when a buzzing in your pocket captures your attention. Your phone. Guess you have some bars now. 
marcus: where r u?
Oh right, the hookup!
you: blizzard blocked the roads. won’t make it tonight.
marcus: ok. 
You scoff at the lack of depth in his response. Not even a “stay safe out there”? Jesus. You settle into the couch with a frustrated sigh, head thumping against the cushions, eyes falling shut as exhaustion creeps into you. 
Boys always thinking with their dicks. Why do you even bother?
“What’s that about?” Joel asks. You peek an eye open at him. Firelight dances across his tan skin. He gestures to your phone. “That gotta do with the real reason for your trip tonight?” 
You rub your temple, “Yeah.”
He hums. "...Listen, I know it's none of my business but—“ 
"It was a hookup, Joel," you interrupt, already knowing where he was going with that. He tends to do that, beat around the bush so much until you’re desperate to just say it. More desperate than he was to know it. You’d rather just skip that whole process. 
"Oh,” his brows furrow.
"Yeah," you repeat dumbly, fiddling with the blanket.
"There, uh, ain't no shame in that, darlin'."
You quirk a skeptical brow, "I know."
"Alright," he mumbles, avoiding eye contact with you. Awkwardness settles between you.
"Things are just a bit dry," you supply, though you have no idea why you're still talking, or why you described yourself and the state of your love-life like that because Joel doesn't need to know that. Nobody needs to know that
But it captures his attention, because he's looking at you again, though this time annoyance is written on his features, along with something else you can’t name, his eyes practically black. Damnit, you knew he’d disapprove, even if he claims there’s no shame in it.
“And you went to some random boy for that?"
You straighten on the couch. "Who else am I supposed to go to, Joel? You?” Sarcasm drips from your words. 
What the hell is he implying?
His gaze jumps to the fire, the muscles in his jaw clenching, his fingers flexing on the arm of his chair. "Never mind I said anythin'."
Your arms cross defensively over your chest. "I don't need your judgment, Joel.”
"I ain't judgin'."
"Sure sounds like it."
He stands abruptly, running a hand through his peppered locks. "I'm not, I just—listen, it's gettin' late. You should sleep. I didn’t have time to get the girls’ room ready, do you want my bed?”
You shake your head, "Couch is perfectly fine, Joel. Thanks."
“You sure?”
“Yes, Joel. I’m a grown woman who can handle her decisions.” 
"I know that.” Frustration laces his words. He sighs, hand coming up to rest on his belt. “Just... let me know if you need anythin'."
“You got it.”
He turns the living room light off on the way to his bedroom down the hall. You don’t watch him leave. 
Once he's gone, you change into your pajamas and settle yourself on the couch beneath a blanket or two. The crackling of the fire and the howling wind outside lulls you to sleep faster than you expect. 
-----
“Fuck.”
The aggressive shivers that wrack your body are what wake you up in the middle of the night. 
Your blanket is wrapped tightly around you, but it’s a thin, furry thing. Nothing like the down comforter you have at home. The fire has also gone out in the hearth, low flames flickering in the ash.
You pull the blanket up to your chin, curling in on yourself as the cold permeates your skin. 
Aside from the chattering of your teeth and the squall outside, it’s eerily silent in the house. You realize, now, that the whooshes from the heating system you had grown accustomed to before are gone
Shit.
You reach for the lamp on the side table, pulling down on the chain. It doesn’t turn on.
“Shit.” 
You sit up, blanket wrapped around your waist. The power is out. The snow storm must’ve knocked out a power line. It’s too cold to stay out here with only your thin blanket and the clothes on your back. And Joel had said…
Let me know if you need anythin’.
You really don’t want to bother him, but the goose flesh rippling across your skin and the pathetic way your lips are quivering, along with the shudders that wrack your body as it attempts to maintain homeostasis are not something you can just sleep through.
You tightly wrap your blanket around your shoulders and tiptoe down the hall. You can see a warm light from Joel’s bedroom, the flicker of a flame on the cream walls.
You slowly push the door open but hesitate at the sight of Joel buried comfortably beneath his comforter. You don’t want to wake him… but his room is awfully toasty from the fire crackling away in his own hearth. And his bed looks absolutely heavenly. 
You steel yourself and pad to the side he sleeps on. 
“Joel?” You whisper. He doesn’t respond.
You lean over to gently push his shoulder. “Joel.”
“Mm—“ His brows furrow, and he scrunches further into the blankets, reminiscent of a cat curling its paws over its head when woken up.
You push his shoulder again, a bit harder this time. “Joel. Wake up.”
He swats at the air, as if your hand is a fly buzzing around his ear. “‘M awake,” he mumbles against the pillow. 
“Joel—the power went out. I’m freezing.”
He’s silent for a moment, eyes still shut. He’s no doubt rolling the words around in his head, trying to make sense of them through a sleepy haze.  
Then, when he does, he wordlessly scoots back and reaches for the comforter. He lifts it, offering the space next to him to you.
“C’mere.” 
You splutter, taken off guard by the invitation. “What? Joel—“
“‘M not askin’, peach. C’mere.” The last word leaves his lips like a command, and you straighten reflexively, apprehension holding your limbs hostage as want curls dangerously low in your abdomen at his tone of voice. That should be enough warning to not climb into bed with him.
You debate telling him to get his ass up and give you another blanket along with a couple more logs in the hearth so you can avoid any kind of proximity between you (lest you feel those capital-f Feelings), but you can practically feel the heat radiating from the bed and his body beckoning you in. 
Oh fuck it.
You let loose a shaky breath and hesitantly slip beneath the covers, facing away from him. You stay glued to the edge of the bed, careful not to let any part of you touch him. Your legs curl into your chest for extra measure. Immediately, it’s so much better. So warm. So comfortable.
And it smells like Joel.
You inhale the earthy and spicy scent of him that lingers on the linen as your head sinks into the soft pillow, but your inhale chokes off as Joel’s strong arm snakes around your waist beneath the comforter, his large hand burning like a brand when it settles hot over your stomach.
He pulls you into him, the sheets swishing as he tucks you into his body. Your back slots against his warm, broad naked chest. His bare legs intertwine with yours, his pelvis almost flush against your ass, only covered by a thin pair of briefs. 
Holy shit. 
You can feel everything. 
“Joel?” You question, voice quivering at the sudden closeness. “What are you doing?”
“Keepin’ you warm,” he mumbles against the nape of your neck. 
You do feel warmer, though it might not be entirely because he’s holding you, but rather because of how he’s holding you. He’s curled around you, like a koala around a tree, thighs bracketing yours. 
You can feel his beard scraping at the nape of your neck, breaths puffing against your feverish skin. 
His thumb is rubbing softly along the pudge of your tummy, palm branding your skin, his fingers dipping innocently beneath the hem of your shorts. 
You can barely breathe, or even think, heartbeat stuttering as arousal pools liquid hot and heavy between your legs. Every unknowing twitch from Joel’s fingers makes it worse. Every touch of his calloused fingertips against your skin is pure agony. Every brush of your ass against his pelvis has you throbbing. You stare wide-eyed into the darkness, gaze roaming the pitch black, as if something out there could make you forget about the ever-growing desire you feel for Joel. 
You can’t sleep like this.
It seems like Joel can though, appearing to already be deep in slumber. He hasn’t moved in a few minutes, his exhales even and slow against you. 
You try to ignore the wetness between your legs, ignore the instinctual urge to roll your hips back against him. You should just go to sleep. But this ache you feel, pounding and deep and relentless…You have to do something about it, even with Joel holding you close.
He won’t mind…right?
But how are you supposed to touch yourself with Joel’s hand in the way? 
You could just move it. That’s the right thing to do, but it feels too good, so hot and heavy on you that you just don’t want to, and as a result, an idea so absolutely fucked worms its way into your mind, lust and desperation destroying any last semblance of rational thought. You could…
No. No. You can’t do that. He’s a human fucking being, not a hand shaped vibrator. 
But… you really want to, and he’s asleep so…he won’t even know…right?
You make up your mind and slowly curl your fingers around Joel’s deadweight palm, biting your lip in concentration and shame as you carefully urge his hand further into your shorts. After each nudge of his palm, you wait to see if Joel gives you any sign of him being awake. But he’s dead asleep. After a moment, you keep going. 
This is so fucked, but you can’t bring yourself to care when you finally feel his thick fingers brush over your clothed folds.
“Shit,” you whisper, breathlessly, holding back a whimper. You manipulate his hand so that his palm is resting large and warm over your aching clit, while his index and middle finger are placed heavily above your heat. 
And then, you really say fuck you to your morals. 
You give an experimental thrust of your hips into his palm, shuddering at the contact against your clit. Then you wait to see if Joel reacts, your head tilting a bit to look over your shoulder. But Joel hasn’t moved, hasn’t said a word. Good.
Confident he won’t wake, you rock your hips again and again, holding onto his hand with your own, pressing it down with each thrust of your hips to get that sweet contact. The heel of his palm bumps your aching clit with each thrust, and you bite back moans and whimpers well enough, but you can’t hide the deepening of your breaths as you climb closer and closer to your climax.
Everything else fades away as you just focus on that one goal. On crawling over the edge. You hardly feel the growing smirk pressed to the back of your neck, or the way Joel’s cock is now hard against your ass as you grind against his palm.
“F-fuck,” you huff, eyes tightly shut as you ground yourself in his presence behind you, the beat of his heart thudding against your spine, the rise and fall of his chest, the light, unconscious brush of his lips on your neck. Closure is on the horizon as you imagine him lifting up on his arm and leaning over to actually get you off, his teeth biting down on your shoulder as he thrusts his fingers into your aching cunt. 
“Joel—“ you quietly moan. 
The moment his name slips from your lips, his hand suddenly pulls back, and you let out a frustrated groan (he can’t do that!), which quickly turns into a squeak of mortification (oh yes, he absolutely can!).
Because Joel is awake. 
He. Is. Awake.
And he knows what you were doing, his chest rumbling against your spine as he—is he fucking laughing at you?
“Needy girl, aren’t you, peach?”
Mortification ignites in your cheeks, nausea pooling in your stomach. “Joel, oh my god, I’m so sorry—“
His hand gravitates to your thigh, curling around it. He pulls it up, inserting his knee in between your legs and he griiiinds it into your clothed cunt. Your desperate apology is cut off by a reflexive wanton moan, your back arching as pleasure reverberates inside you.
“‘S okay, baby, I understand. So fuckin’ desperate you had to use me while I was sleepin’, huh? Didn’t get what you wanted earlier so now you’re searchin’ for somethin’ else, hm?”
His large hand finds your waist again, sliding down your stomach to inch beneath both your shorts and your panties now. You gasp as his fingertips find your clit easily.
“I’m just a ‘lil offended I wasn’t your first choice,” he chides, fingers slipping through your soaking folds. “But I like this much better than you findin’ some boy to get you off. You need’a be fucked by a man, darlin’. Ain’t that right?” 
His words send heat straight to your core, thighs clenching around his knee as he ruts it against you while simultaneously stimulating your clit with his fingers.
“Yes, Joel,” you moan. “Need you.” 
His teeth scrape against your throat when he growls, “Goddamn right you do.”
You can’t believe this is happening.
Joel slides his hand further into your panties, his middle finger curling in to sink into your soaked cunt. You choke on a gasp. 
“Who’s the guy?��� He asks, randomly, while his finger rocks into you.
You can’t think as Joel inserts his ring finger alongside the other, stretching you so deliciously. “W-what?”
“The boy you were gonna see tonight. Who is he?” 
Who was it? Mark? Matt? And why does he care? You don’t know, you don’t care, only thoughts of Joel Joel Joel consume your waking being. 
“I—I don’t know, Joel. Please, oh my god.” 
He hums pityingly. “Poor thing can't even remember his name.” His other hand comes up to slide through your hair, gripping the locks at the nape of your neck. He tugs, and you melt. “I’ll make sure you don’t forget mine.” 
He doesn’t need to worry about that.
Joel moves his thumb to circle your clit as he thrusts his thick, long fingers up and into you, curling them to hit that spot that has your heartbeat dropping between your thighs, desperate and loud and begging for release. 
“Hhhoh— Joel!” 
“Tha’s right, baby. So goddamn wet. You’ve been dealin’ with this for awhile now, huh?”
You nod into the pillow on a broken moan as his fingers withdraw and sink into you at a steady pace, his thumb circling and circling and circling.
“Words, baby.”
You cry out, hands gripping the pillow. “Yes, yes. Joel. Been wanting this f’so long.”
“Should’a come to me first. Would’a helped you out a long time ago,” he drawls.
Yes you absolutely should have, based on how quickly you’re approaching your orgasm.
Your cries are so loud, but you don’t care, focusing only on your pleasure and the feel of Joel’s mouth on your throat. 
You’re finally getting what you want. And fuck, is it amazing.
Your eyes roll back as it all builds up inside you, Joel’s hand unrelenting as he fucks you closer and closer to the edge.
You’re scorching, everything hot and intense, your stomach tightening, your legs stretching out as the pleasure builds and builds.
Fuck, you’re gonna cum—
It rips through you violently, eyes prickling with tears, your thighs clenching as your walls bare down repeatedly around Joel’s fingers, making him groan. 
“Good girl,” Joel murmurs, hand eventually inching out of you and your shorts to squeeze your thigh appreciatively as aftershocks run through you, thighs quaking and clit throbbing. “That’s what you needed, huh? S’it feel good, cummin’ all over my fingers?”
His fucking voice!
“Mhmm,” you hum in agreement, sinking into the sheets, eyes drooping shut as pleasure lulls you to sleep. 
He tsks, “Wake up, darlin’ I ain’t done with you yet.”
His beard scrapes against your neck as he moves to your ear.
“It’s my turn to use you.”
Your eyes shoot open. Fuck. 
Joel pulls your panties down your legs as far as he can, and you squirm to wriggle them off of you.
He pulls away for a moment, but when he’s back, the bare, hot, thick length of him is pressed between your ass cheeks, and a full body shudder runs through you.
Holy shit, he’s big.
He grips your thigh again, but this time he throws it over his own. And then you feel it, the slick head of his cock as he guides it through your folds.
Oh fuck.
“You okay, peach?” He asks, laying a gentle kiss on your shoulder. Now you have tears in your eyes for an entirely different reason. His hand slides across your waist and up beneath the hem of your shirt, palming your breast. Your nipples tighten. 
Your mouth feels dry and you swallow down a lump of lava. “Y-yes, Joel.”
“Good. Wanna give you all of me, how’s that sound, darlin’?”
You will take whatever, anything you can get from Joel.
“Good, Joel. Yes, please, oh my god.”  
“There are those manners.”
A desperate whine slips from your lips as he directs the head of his cock into you, slowly and carefully, his hand running up and down your thigh in comforting strokes. God, he’s stretching you so much, hot and thick and pulsing inside you. It’s almost painful, but it’s a welcome pain.
“Jesus, Joel,” you moan when he stops to let you breathe, “You’re so big.”
“I ain’t even halfway in yet, darlin’.”
“W-what?” How is that even possible? 
“You can take it.” He says, sliding in some more and fuck you don’t have much of a choice. but you can, and you will because he feels too fucking good, and you’re ready for him to make you feel it into next week.
“Is…is it all the way in yet?” You ask, thoroughly stretched and filled. 
“Almost, sweet girl,” he breathes. “Goddamn, you’re tight.”
That makes you clench down even more, and he releases a pained groan behind you. “Relax, darlin’, c’mon.”
You do your best and let yourself sink into the bed, taking deep breaths and concentrating on the crackling of the fire.
And then, he thrusts fully into you, filling you up completely, and your mind is right back to him, a soft cry slipping from your lips into the pillow.
 “There we go, tha’s it. Good job. Taking me so well,” he croons, stroking your side.
“F-fuck me, Joel, please move.”
He squeezes your ass in his large palm in retaliation to your command. “You use me, I use you, remember?”
But he listens anyway, likely desperate to move himself, because then he’s gripping your hip with a large hand and pulling back just to sheath himself fully into you once more, his cock head bumping against your cervix, and holy fucking shit.
“Joel!” You cry, and he leans over to kiss you, teeth biting at your plump lower lip as he thrusts into you again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
He rolls into you at a steady, bruising pace, and you’re practically boneless as you just take it. Cries and whimpers and moans spilling out of you like a gas leak as he mouths down your throat, sucking and biting and oh my god this is way better than just getting yourself off on his hand. 
Then Joel shifts, pushing at your side to press your stomach into the mattress. You whine as he pulls out of you to situate himself behind you. He grabs your hips with both hands and pulls them up and backwards, easing himself back into you until your ass meets his skin, then he rolls his hips, driving his cock deep from a brand new angle.
All you can do is sob into the pillow. 
He’s so fucking big, so fucking deep you can’t think of anything else besides him and his wonderful cock, or the filthy things he’s whispering into your shoulder blades.
His large hand plants itself on your spine, and your hands scramble for purchase on a pillow.
“Sweet girl, taking me so fuckin’ well,” he purrs. “You were desperate for this cock, huh? God, I wish you could see yourself. Split open on me like this. Your little boy toy wouldn’t be able to fuck you like this, ain’t that right?"
You shake your head. God, why did you even make that dick appointment in the first place?
You hadn’t even realized what being fucked by a “real man” meant until now.
Joel knows how to fucking deliver, you guess that’s why he’s so successful in his contracting business. He’s delivering you straight to that blessed release. 
You clench around the girth of him, the filthy sounds of your arousal echoing in his room along with the cracks and snaps from the fire burning steadily in the hearth.
If you couldn’t sleep before, you definitely will be able to after this because you’re mindless as he fucks you into oblivion.
“Joel, fuck—mmph—!” 
“Yeah, that’s right. Can’t say anythin’ but my name.”
His breathing has become more labored, desperate grunts escaping his lips as his cock twitches inside of you. He’s getting close, deep and gravely moans falling out of him as his thrusts become harder and more sporadic.
His hand sneaks around your front, spanning your entire stomach as he slides down to your soaking folds, his middle and ring finger finding that sensitive bundle of nerves and giving them a gentle tap before circling, using that same method from before that had you squirming.
You writhe on his length, legs falling out beneath you as your orgasm swells within you. 
“Please Joel,” you whimper into the pillow. 
“I’ve got you,” he promises. 
It’s there, filling your body, building and cresting and searing white-hot through your limbs. 
And then he thrusts a certain way, hitting that spot within you, and his fingers are circling and—
Yeah.
You fall boneless to the mattress as you come apart, your arousal coating Joel’s cock as he continues to fuck you through your release, stroking your spine. Pleasure floods through your body as the tension releases, and tears freely fall as you cry into the pillow.
Because goddamn it!
How can something feel so good? 
And then Joel’s pulling out of you and letting loose a long, satisfied moan as he comes all over your back, hot stripes painting you. 
He collapses next to you, groaning something about his back.
And you can’t help but laugh, delirious and soft, and Joel’s laughing too, brown eyes sparkling. His calloused hand comes up, runs his thumb along your jaw, and he’s smiling at you, soft and unlike anything you’ve ever seen before.
“You alright, peach?”
“Ohhh yeah,” you giggle, sighing with contentment.
You’re gonna be feeling this for days, just like you wanted.
Joel’s lips brush against your forehead gently, and you’re too tired to acknowledge it, slumber pulling you under far too quickly. You think you can feel the gentle swipe of a wet washcloth on your back before you pass out.
-----
“Fuck…”
The bed is empty when you wake, and a spike of anxiety shoots through you as you sit up. A fire still crackles in the hearth, a fresh log dropped in the ash. On the night stand is a note, beneath it, one of Joel’s t-shirts, your jeans, and a pair of your underwear. 
Mortification climbs through you as you read:
Peach,
My bathroom’s on the left if you’d like to shower. I hope you don’t mind, I went through your bag to get you some panties  underwear. Lot of books in there. You sure like to read.
Oh god, he found your erotica stack. The covers are not misleading, either, he definitely knows what kind of books they are. You force yourself to keep reading through the humiliation.
I’m out picking up Sarah and Ellie, I’ll be home soon. There’s pancakes on the counter. We’ll tow your car when I get back.
Also–about last night…we don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want to. But, I want you to know that if you ever need something like that again, I’m here. And for anything else. I’m here. Always. 
See you soon. 
Warmth fills your body and you reread those last sentences over and over. 
Always. Does he really mean that? 
You check the alarm clock on his nightstand–it’s eleven fucking a.m. Holy shit, you haven’t slept that late in a long time. 
When you stand, an ache radiates through you, and memories of last night flit in your mind and along with them, a fresh new wave of arousal. You scramble for the shower.
You emerge fresh and clean twenty minutes later, smelling like Joel, having only his body wash and shampoo to use. Each inhale is practically torture, and the ache between your legs is just another reminder. Seeing yourself in his shirt makes it worse. You try and push it away.
You descend the steps, halting when you hear the sound of Ellie’s voice from the kitchen.
“And I was like, pew pew! And I got both of them out!”
Sarah’s scoff of disbelief follows. “Nuh-uh! You didn’t even hit me!”
You creep down the steps, smiling a bit at Ellie’s outcry of “Yes I fucking did!”, and then you hear it–Joel’s low laugh, the Texan drawl.
“You kiddos are gonna drive me crazy. Just eat your damn pancakes.”
“Why’d you make these in the first place? You don’t even like pancakes,” Sarah teases. 
“Uh…”
You decide you should probably help him out. “Hey girls.”
Three heads snap in your direction. The eyes of one skirting down your body, a blush creeping across his cheeks. The other two brighten in shock. 
“What are you doing here!” Ellie gasps. 
“We haven’t seen you in forever!” Sarah adds.
You enter the kitchen and come up behind them to pull them in for a hug, your arms hooking around their necks. You smush their cheeks against yours. Ellie grumbles, Sarah laughs.
“I know! I’ve missed you guys so much. I’m just super busy with being an adult and all that shit,” you say, letting them go so they can breathe. You round the island, grabbing a plate and stacking two pancakes on it.
“Well, stop being busy. We miss you,” Ellie says.
“If I could, I would.”
“Why are you wearing Dad’s shirt?” Sarah asks, eyes narrowing, a mischievous smile pulling at her lips.
“I–um–” the question catches you off guard, and you scramble for an excuse, eyes flicking to Joel desperately. He clears his throat and crosses his arms over his broad chest, now covered in yet another, dark flannel. How many does he own?
“Snowstorm stranded her here last night, and she didn’t have any clean clothes,” Joel says, definitively.
It’s not a lie at all, and yet, it feels like one.
Sarah and Ellie exchange a look that says, yeah fucking right. You shovel pancake into your mouth to try and cool down the blush in your cheeks. 
“Speakin’ of,” he continues, “I’ve got the tow dolly all hooked up so when you’re done, we can tow your car out.”
“Great. Thank you, Joel.”
His brown eyes flick between yours, his hand coming up to rest large and warm on your shoulder. “‘Course, sweetheart.” 
You finish your pancakes without any more embarrassing questions from the girls, thank God, and then you’re out in the snow wearing a pair of Joel’s boots stuffed with socks (they’re too big, but they’re better than heels) and bundled up in one of his coats, watching Joel tow your tiny car out of the snowbank.
It’s just as cold as yesterday, though the dreary sky has cleared into a baby blue, the sun bright and high above the clouds. The roads are clearer, the snow plows having come by not too long ago. 
You grimace as you hear your car groan and creak as Joel pulls it out of the snow, big puffs of it falling off the roof in clumps. Eventually, it’s on solid ground once more, and he tows it back toward his cabin. 
Back in the driveway, Joel hops out of his truck and double checks your car. He pats the roof of it when he deems it accetable. “All good to go, sweetheart.”
You sigh in relief, “Thank you so much Joel, seriously.”
He nods, though he looks…nervous for some reason. “‘Course, darlin’. Glad I could help.”
You don’t really want to leave, but you’ve bothered him long enough, so you stroll to the driver's side and go to open it, but suddenly Joel’s hand comes down to keep it closed. You look up at him confused. 
His expression is hard, serious as he looks down at you. “Do you regret last night?”
Well. You were not expecting that. You thought that, maybe, it would just remain undiscussed. A blip. Something you both shared, but never spoke of again. You know your answer, though.
 “No. I don’t.”
“Good,” he says, eyes dark, “me either.”
He opens the door for you, pauses for a second then shuts it, voice desperate. “I just need to say this, before you go.”
You nod, encouraging him to go on.
He takes a deep breath, rakes a hand through his graying locks. Pinches the bridge of his nose, and shuts his eyes tight. When he opens them again, there's a hard determination in them. Your pulse quickens, your legs turn to jelly.
“I like you, peach,” he says. “I understand if you don’t want to be with me because of the whole single father thing. And, also because I’m me. But I just thought I’d tell you how I felt, because,” he huffs out a laugh, shakes his head, “I’m thinkin’ you might like me, too.”
Your hands are shaking, and not because of the cold. Maybe you should buy a lottery ticket with how lucky you've been these past fifteen hours.
“I’ve liked you since the moment I met you, Joel," you confess. 
“Oh,” he says, breathless, and a smile pulls at his lips.
“Yeah,” you breathe, your own grin forming to match his. 
The breeze shakes the evergreens, drifting flakes of snow onto Joel’s graying hair. His nose is reddened by the biting cold, but his eyes are warm as he smiles down at you. 
“Not gonna lie to you sweetheart, I’m kind of glad you got stranded here.”
"Yeah, me too," you laugh, and then you pull him down to you, pressing your lips against his, smiling into the kiss.
This kiss is the exact opposite of the one he gave you last night. It’s careful, sweet, tentative. He reveres your mouth, rather than ravishes it. You’re both bundled in multiple layers, standing in the freezing cold rather than lying naked in a warm bed. 
And yet, it’s just as perfect, if not more.
Eventually Joel pulls back, hands heavy on your waist. He’s still grinning. His hands frame your face, his thumb running softly along your cheekbone. 
“Peach,” he says. “Would you like to stay for dinner?”
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