#dirty paper warning

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Can you write a college roommate head cannon for miguel O’Hara ( 18+ f!reader)

ik you asked for HCs but I have no self control... my bad, anon!

College Roommate!Miguel O'Hara Headcanons

(AO3 Mirror), Main Masterlist

pairing: College Roommate!Miguel O'Hara x f!reader

summary: Miguel is your roommate. And he’s hot. That’s it, that’s the tweet.

warnings: 18+ as fuuuck. F-receiving oral, using toys, masturbation, voyeurism (-ish), grinding, praise, service dom (idk?) Miguel, recreational drug use (reader and Miggy smoke a blunt). Minors DNI

a/n: I am a firm believer that modern day Miguel listens to 90s rnb, back when men were men: unabashedly, unashamedly down so fucking bad for their partners. he just gives me those vibes!!

edit: I'm writing a full fic for this! Rigor Mortis, college au fic, read here.

wc: 6k

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

I'm thinking you become roommates but he's your last choice. 

Very last minute: you have a big falling out with your now ex-boyfriend, and the plans for flatsharing next semester goes right out the window. 

So all the good places are taken, and you're going apartment-hunting, but everywhere's either too expensive, too dirty, or there's a predatory clause hidden in the lease: shitty landlords and blaring red flags in 9pt Times New Roman. 

When you stumble upon Miguel O'Hara; a student in private accomodation who, lucky you, is in need of a roommate; it feels like a godsend.

Rent is affordable and he's nice enough; refusing to grunt more than a few words to you, but is clean, organised, and from what you can tell, is barely in the apartment. 

You sign onto the lease, desperately, hoping you've just been lucky and trying not to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

You give a thousand mile stare at the blank document in front of you. A bullshit paper due in exactly 12 hours. Yes, you left it until the final stretch, and yes, it's 10k words. Very doable. You're not fucked. Nope.

You blame it on the banging from next door. Paper thin walls; obscene noises. Cries of Yes Miguel and Just like that, daddy have been plaguing you for almost an hour. His stamina must be superhuman, the way the woman in his bed has been howling. Howling may seem extreme, but she sounds like a dying cat: cock drunk and babbling over Miguel O'Hara? 

Your new roommate had been nice enough. Quiet, unassuming, and seemed more than absorbed in his schoolwork. So you didn't expect him to unashamedly fuck the girl he's been tutoring for the past week. It all clicks. The "perfect roommate" turned out to have one teeny tiny little flaw: loud, obnoxious sex, well into the early hours of the morning. 

On autopilot, you're clicking through tabs on your bed. Perhaps you're a prude, but the sex noises are abrasive, excessive, to the point of parody. Persistent, Miguel's low voice reverberates in the walls of your bedroom; making heat pool at the base of your stomach. 

"You want it, hermosa? Tell me…. such a pretty girl… like that?" It's muffled, but his voice is unmistakable. Low, greedy, heavy with want. God, the last time someone's spoken to you like that was… 

You shake your head free of cobwebs. No. You're not rewarding him. You can't . Your roommate is shameless, and inconsiderate, and really fucking annoying . 

The smacking noises increase, coupled with banging on his side of the wall. Resolute, your face hardens. From where you perch on your bed, you slam the wall with the side of your fist. 

"O'Hara! Keep it the fuck down!" 

~~~

He's a biochem major, up to his ass in assignments and he still has time for societies, internships and tutoring. 

The only times he'd be in the apartment really was an impromptu session, and you didn't notice at first, but it became more obvious as the semester went on.

As a so-called tutor, he only seemed to pick the prettiest girls - they would twirl their hair on your kitchen counter and bat their pretty lashes at him when they didn't understand. Favours for a couple of friends, is his only response when you ask. 

It felt like you'd open the door to a new girl every week and you are baffled. Donned in makeup and short skirts, they'd waddle in asking for Miggy, or drop off half-finished assignments whilst craning their head through, trying to catch a glimpse of him. 

The absurdity would make you laugh if it wasn't affecting your sleep. 

Not that he's not absolutely gorgeous, but he's so quiet you would never have thought he had it in him: to have a revolving door of women lining up to lay underneath him. 

This time, her name is Sarah: pretty little thing in Miguel's Advanced Math class.  She perches on a stool, wearing a tight dress that is wholly not appropriate for a tutoring session. She's one of his regulars, if you can call it that, and has been failing for at least 2 semesters. You flash her a smile as you pad through the kitchen, searching the cupboards for a snack. God, she is gorgeous; dolled up for another long session with Miguel, no doubt.

"Where's he gone?" She asks politely. 

You shrug. "I couldn't tell you, sorry."

"It's okay… I'm just a bit stuck." You almost snort and catch yourself. For some reason, you didn't think they actually did any work, merely a pretense for the… cardio later on in the day. 

You glance at her sheet of paper, scribbles in purple pen with large swathes crossed out. Leaning over, you scan the page.

"Right here." You point and she follows with a manicured finger. "You fucked up with this integral and I think… yeah, I think that messes with the whole thing."

Her eyes light up as she follows you, explaining with a piece of cookie hanging out of your mouth. She's definitely smart, just a few little mistakes here and there that you're happy to point out. Thanking you fervently, she rushes to correct it. 

"Ah, it's no problem. I get mixed up with it too." You smile and notice Miguel by the doorway, watching with a strange look in his face. You roll your eyes as you walk past. What a fucking weirdo. 

"Thought I was the tutor?" He croons.

You raise an eyebrow, voice low as Sarah is engrossed in her work. "...I don't want to fuck her, Miggy , if that's what you're worried about."

A little cruelly you push past him, shoulders clashing against one another. Is he smiling ? For now, you blame your perpetual tiredness when you think you catch the hint of a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

~~~

You're a light sleeper, and it all makes for a tired, delirious combo. You sleepwalk through the day, scramble to finish assignments and whilst it's not all O'Hara's fault, you can't help but blame him for a lot of it. 

After you successfully get through one long week, you decide to celebrate. That means a couple hours of mindless hedonism: your favourite movie, greasy food…. and your trusty dildo. Not at the same time, of course. 

Miguel's not home, and he's not tearing down the walls with some other girl, for once, so you decide to treat yourself. 

You've been going through a dry patch, and you'd hate to admit it, but he does sound good through the thin drywall. 

It was a joke gift; given to you by a friend for your birthday. An obnoxiously purple dildo with a suction cup at its base. Aptly named Hugh, due to its - ahem - large stature. Standing tall at 7 or 8 inches, far bigger or thicker than any partner you've taken in the past. Sitting around a small diner booth with your friends and opening the bag to reveal him, had been quite the experience, for sure. 

It wasn't your fault you had gone through a dry spell in the past few months. With work, with school, with relationship issues, you hadn't had the time or energy to sleep around. Not that you were desperate for drunk, lackluster sex, followed by an awkward dance of ubers and shitty coffee in the morning. Like many, you preferred to do it yourself. 

Laptop open, you ease yourself onto the toy, already slick with lube. Prepping yourself with your fingers had been quite the task, tabs open to something on a lewd website. It's cheesy, but you didn't really like the bright lights and plastic of usual porn. The moans felt too fake, the sex devoid of any real passion. So you found a couple of independent creators; couples, mostly; carnal fucking with fervour only borne from real love . It's embarrassing to admit it, but your favourite parts are the little kisses and touches in between, or light laughter after a rough session. As if to say: it's okay and I'm still here. 

On your screen now is a longtime favourite video, a broad man bullying his fat cock into his partner. You can't help but think he looks like Miguel, not as pretty but tan with strapping shoulders, and large hands that wrap around the neck of the girl in the video. 

" F-Fuck," You breathe, sinking down onto your toy. You bet Miguel's palm on your throat would be deliciously rough, and you imagine how he'd fuck the brat out of you like the man on your screen. 

What hadn't occurred to you, however, was that the thin walls went both ways. Whilst you were quieter than many of the girls Miguel brought home, you were fairly shameless with the moans and curses that fell from your lips. Headphones on, you were blissfully unaware that Miguel had slipped into the apartment some time ago. The slap of your thighs to the floor, the desperate whine as you roll your hips over the toy - he can hear it all. 

Miguel has a conscience, so he does feel some amount of shame when he slips a hand down his trousers and presses an ear to your shared wall. He closes his eyes and bites down lusty groans, fisting his cock to your pretty noises. Noises he's been wanting to hear from you for months, now, imagining it was you underneath him instead of his usual partners. 

He times it just right, squeezing around his tip in time with the steady slap just beyond the wall. Are you fucking yourself? On your knees, hands flat on the floor, churning up your insides with a toy… or maybe ass up, dildo attached to something…? He almost cums with that mental image, wondering what you'd look like on your knees for him. Is the dildo as big as him? He knows you, knows you'd want it to hurt - for his cock to stretch out your pretty pussy when he cums deep inside you. 

All things he thinks about with a hand around his cock, and he's already close. But he wants to cum with you, listening intently for the signs. 

" Fuck," Your voice comes out muffled, but it makes him buck up into his fist all the same. " Need it… oh God, I-" 

He speeds up, wondering what it would be like to have your thighs shake underneath him, what it would take to have you babbling and begging for more. How would he break you? Maybe on his cock, where he'd watch you squirm as you take his length. Or on your knees, choking around him and licking up his cum. Or, God, thighs wrapped around his head, riding out your high with his mouth sealed on your clit, crying for him slow down, for him to-

" H-Harder, Miguel, please." 

He releases, sudden and intense, spilling white ropes into his boxers. 

" Fuck, Miguel…"

He fucks his fist through it, overstimulated from the way you say his name. It feels like the only way it should be said; spilling from your mouth, haphazard and desperate. Like honey, like treacle; sweet things he didn't know he had the capacity for. He lets that feeling wash over him, panting, bringing his forehead to rest on cool wall. 

~~~

He's hot. He's smart. He's a whore.

A total blindspot for you, and no matter how much you can't stand him; you still find yourself stealing glances whenever he's home. 

And he does seem to be home a lot more, often choosing to study on the dining table rather than his room. It's like he does it on purpose, using the warmer weather as an excuse to wear tiny tank tops and loose gray sweats - showing off the muscles of his broad back and arms perfectly.

Funnily enough, when he's not around those girls, he's bearable - seems to have grown a couple of brain cells in those short few days between sessions. 

You laugh and joke, sometimes, and he surprises you by suggesting a movie one quiet night. 

He offers you his sweater to snuggle into, you eat your weight in greasy takeout, and your roommate seems like an actually decent guy?? 

You had fallen into an easy routine: O'Hara leaves a flask of coffee for you to snatch up in the morning, hair damp from the shower and all, and you meet him with netflix and instant noodles in the evening. A push and pull that works in the little space - much smoother than your rocky beginnings.

After a truly shitty day, you come home to a quiet apartment. Almost sleeping through an exam, forgetting lunch, missing the bus home, and having to trek back through pouring rain in a thin coat. Everything that could go wrong, did, and you are left with the pieces. You trudge through the living room into the kitchen, the wet squelch of socks on laminate floor haunting every step. Shedding your limp outerwear, you lay the contents of your backpack onto the kitchen counter: clumps of loose paper, the damp leftovers of a textbook, bleeding ink. Your main concern, however, is your laptop slick with rain water. 

With baited breath, you put it on the slab, and press the power button. A click, a stuttering whir, and the screen flickers on. Then, just as strained, it putters off. Dead. Completely dead. Your legs almost give out, and you lean on the counter to steady yourself. Half of your life was there; including the final project that would make up a good chunk of your grade. It takes you everything not to collapse onto the floor right then and there. 

"How was it?" You hear the click of a door and Miguel calls out from the hallway. 

You wince."...F-Fine?" 

You hear footsteps, as he gets closer. "Are you asking or telling me?" 

You clear your throat, desperately trying to keep your voice steady. "Fine. It was fine. I'm just… it was fine."

Back still turned, you fumble around with the wet contents of your bag, hoping he doesn't notice. 

"Long day?" He says warmly, head poking into the kitchen. Haphazardly, you spare him a glance from behind your shoulder. He's dressed in a sweater that fits snug around his chest, rolled up to expose his forearms, and loose sweats. In his hands, he drinks from a cheesy mug - your mug, donning a stupid pun. He looks warm. Cosy. Domestic. For some, reason it makes your heart sink even further. 

Long day? "Something like that." You manage to squeeze out. There's a pregnant pause as he comes closer. Rummaging blindly through a cupboard, you try to hide behind its door. If he sees you like this, now, you don't know if you'll be able to hold it together. 

You close the door, and all of a sudden he's there, mug in hand. 

" Fuck, man- " It makes you jump, as he squints and takes a sip of his coffee. 

"You look… wet." 

"That's because it rained, Miguel." Snapping at him, your tone is biting. You're tired, stressed and in desperate need of a cry, but he is unrelenting in his gaze. 

"Are you ok?" He asks, unfazed. 

There's a lump in your throat and all you can do is nod with a tight expression.  His eyes flicker towards the counter and you shuffle, trying to cover up the mess. And then you watch it happen; initial confusion, a flash of realisation, and then worry; all in the space of a couple seconds. 

Gently, he pulls you aside to inspect the damage. "Mierda. This is pretty bad. You sure you're ok?" 

He's got a hand on your arm now,  The dam breaks and you crumple into tears in the kitchen floor. Of course, he comes with you, rubbing your back as you blubber through the details. 

" Nothing's going right for me… and I've got my final project on there… I'm barely keeping up as it is…" All he does is nod, face tight with something you can't quite name. It must seem pathetic to him, you think, shamelessly crying on the kitchen floor, complaining to your poor roommate. He can't leave you like this, because he's a decent person - but internally, he must think you're going crazy. 

It helps, having him there: a steady presence by your side. Slowly but surely, your tears subside. 

"You could've asked me to pick you up." He hands you some tissues off the counter, and watches as you mop up the tears. "I would've come, if you called."

"I didn't… I didn't think we were…" You search for the right word. 

"...friends?" He offers, with a small smile. "You think I let just anyone steal my sweaters?" 

"First of all," It makes you laugh, despite yourself. "You offered. And second, I've seen what you do with your friends, and I don't know if I have the energy for it."

"Ouch." Bashful, he rubs his chest like it aches. He sits a little close to you, knocking your shoulders with his own. "I know this girl who's crazy good with computers. I could ask her to take a look, if you'd like? Might not be able to save it but maybe we could recover the files?"

"...I'd like that, to be honest."

"Muy bien ." He leaps to his feet, palm stretched towards you to help you up. "I'll run you a warm bath or something. You're creating a puddle and it's going to ruin my floor."

"Our floor, asshole. I pay rent here, too." 

~~~

You find that you enjoy being around him, and he feels the same. 

You can't help but compare him to your shitty ex who you were planning to move in with: and even with his quirks, Miguel is better in every way. 

There is harmony in your household, for a while, and you almost look forward to coming home to him after class. Almost. 

It doesn't last long, because of course it doesn't. You'd thought you'd come to a tentative ceasefire, able to casually rib and joke with each other - takeout and B-roll movies aside. He leaves you leftovers from food he makes, you turn down your music when he's studying, and he even woke you up the other day when you had slept through your alarm.

Beyond the wall, his music is loud: a playlist you recognise as the one he puts on to (unsuccessfully) mask the noise of his usual late night adventures. Cheesy love ballads, heady RnB that leaks into your own room. You'd rather die than admit his taste in music isn't horrible, but it usually means a long, long night for everyone around. With finals around the corner, there's no way you can let this stand. 

What kind of person does that? Lull you into a false sense of security with Snakes on a Plane and pepperoni pizza? 

Absorbed in your own work, you hadn't even realised he had someone over; let alone was gearing up for obnoxious sex. You'd bang on the wall, but you feel like you guys are past that: crossed a threshold of intimacy that means you can shout at him up close and personal. 

So you stomp over to the hallway, banging at the door to his room. In the short trip there, you've worked yourself into a frenzy. How many times have you told him to keep it down? That it was rude and inconsiderate to flaunt his sex life in your face; to fuck other women so loud you were practically involved? There was something about the little smile he would give you afterwards, when you catch him shepherding his latest out the door in the morning - like he gets off on it, enjoys it, when you react. Even when you think you're over it, he still manages to drive you absolutely crazy. 

“Miguel? Open the fuck up!"

You're still fuming when the door opens with a click, and Miguel appears in the sliver of the doorway. He opens it so that his frame is half swallowed by the door, top half peeking through with a lazy hand in his hair. And of his top half, he's bare from the waist up, black band of his boxers sitting low on his v-line and loose sweats. 

All the wind is knocked from your sails, and you lose your train of thought. 

"Yeah?" 

"I…" You clear your throat. "I don't care who you fuck, but when I'm doing work-" 

"-I'm not." He chuckles. "There's no one here, hermosa. Just me. And you, I guess…"

There's something about the way he says it, lazily, as if it's his first time saying those words - wrapping his tongue around your name to see how it fits. If it fits, how it tastes. His relaxed posture, the way his hair falls…

"You're high." Your brow shoots up. "... you're high!" 

With a finger pressed to his lips, he grabs your hand and pulls you into his room, eyes darting around the hallway. 

"Shhh! You can't-" Now, he gets close, whispering like he's saying something he shouldn't. "You can't tell anyone. "

"I won't." You breathe. His face is serious at first, and then you're both giggling. You've never seen him so carefree, and it's nice to see Miguel walking around without the weight of the world on his shoulders.

He's still holding your hand, pressed close, and you see him drag his eyes up and down your figure. "You want do something you'll regret…?"

"...I've got a 9am, tomorrow, I really-" 

"-shouldn't?" He finishes, dragging his hand up your bare arm, pupils blown. He gets up to your shoulders, tucking your hair behind your ear. It's sinful, the way his touch is gentle but gaze heavy - violent in the way he practically eyefucks you. You feel bare, in little sleep shorts and a t-shirt.

He steps back, lounging on his bed, and makes for a half finished blunt by the adjacent window sill. Sighing, you sit by him, sinking into the mattress. He pats you closer, dangerously close, and you comply. One arm curled by your waist, the other brings the blunt up close and you wrap your lips around it. When Miguel brings a lighter to the blunt, you lean into it, knuckles brushing your lips. 

You take a drag, long, heavy, eyes closed. And when they open, you're met with his own. Maybe it's the weed, maybe it's the heady atmosphere, but you swear his eyes are low and deep with lust.

"Good girl." He rumbles, cupping your chin and tracing a thumb to your lips. He separates, bringin the blunt to his own lips before leaning back to pass it to you. As quick as he gets close, he pulls away; leaning back into the expanse of his large bed. And he looks good, head drawn back and the curve of his tan arm drawn upwards. Tufts of hair from his chest, the trail that leads down suggestively - and without inhibition, you basically drool over him. God, there it is. You feel it kick in and let it wash over you. 

His music, long forgotten, blends into your downy haze. You want to sit in his lap, rest your head on his chest. You get it now: if this is the view all those women he tutors get to have, then you finally understand. 

"Come closer, hermosa ." You barely register the nickname, only focused on the way he says it, the delicious way it rolls off of his tongue. You nod, and shuffle closer. His siren song sounds sweeter, somehow, up close. 

You pass the blunt between you both, and watch it dwindle to the last dregs. Lying down next to him, he clutches your hand and takes the butt between his fingers, letting its flames die as you watch. You giggle and his gaze softens.

"I didn't expect this from you." You look up to see an upside-down Miguel, hiding a smile. 

"Expect what?" He drags himself downwards, to rest his head by your side. 

"All…" You gesture vaguely. "This. Don't even think I've been in your room for this long, before."

His room looks exactly how you'd expect it: tidy and modest, a row of trophies neatly lined up on a shelf, a telescope pointing out towards a window. There are posters by his bed; science related, mostly. You tilt your head in the direction of one of them.

"Is this what they see?" You mumble to no one in particular. 

He manages to catch it, sluggish in his response. "...Is this what who sees?" 

"All the girls you fuck." It tumbles your of your mouth, before you can help it. 

He tilts his head too, looking at the poster and you watch the sharp lines of his jaw besides you. Even at this angle, he's so pretty. 

"Huh. I guess they do." 

"It's not very romantic, is it?" You blink, oblivious. Your question is met with a noncommittal shrug. "What was her name last time? Cassie, Clara-something…"

"Katie." He hums. 

"Katie." Ignoring the twinge of disappointment at his quick response, you hope it's the weed and not jealousy that made you pretend to forget her name. 

You sit up on your haunches, tracing the valleys and mountains of his bare chest with a leisurely finger. You try not to notice the way he shivers at your touch. 

"I could hear everything. Every, 'Yes daddy'," You feign a moan by curling your lips into an O-shape. You bring your other hand to your hair, head tilted back with exaggerated movement. "And 'right there, Miggy, right fuckin' there' ." 

Technically, you're making fun of him and laughing, expecting him to follow. But he doesn't, head back and eyes boring into you - only bringing a hand to press yours at his chest. 

"Thin walls, Miguel." You clear your throat, sensing a shift in the atmosphere. Too far, probably. "Sorry, shit. I didn't mean-" 

"I hear you too." He says softly. "I heard you, the other day."

Head filled with cotton, it takes a moment for his words to really click. So he elaborates, lacing his fingers with your own. 

"Fucking yourself, hermosa ." He says it lazily, like the vulgarity of the act doesn't register.

Your eyes widen in horror. How much exactly did he hear?

"...and I heard you say my name." 

"It was…. i-it wasn't like that-" Fuck. You can't think straight as it is: and his voice is low and silky, rubbing circles on your hand close to his chest. Even now, he oozes confidence, the steady thump-thump of his heart giving away nothing. 

"Hmmm? Then what is it like?" You blink at him, unable to answer. "You're a hypocrite. You complain about all these women I supposedly fuck, but then-" 

He pulls you closer, so that your lips almost touch his. "-you lock yourself in your room, touching yourself and thinking about your poor roommate. What am I meant to do with you?"

A pause, and in your daze, you can't breathe. For all your theatrics, it's too easy for him - to prod and tease, and for you to chase after him. You move to kiss him, but he grabs your chin at the last second. "Not quite. I want to hear you say it."

"Fuck- " You crumple, hiding your head in the crook of his shoulder. Even in your haze, the nerves bubble up from the base of your stomach. "Fuck me, please , Miguel."

He places a hand on your thigh, leading you to straddle his middle, other hand wrapped around your waist. He grinds your lower half into his, leaning up to bring your lips together. 

He tastes sweet, greedily lapping up your moans in the clash. You're not thinking, not really, lost in the heat of his body, desperate and eager when you kiss. To contrast, Miguel cups your chin, pulling you away for air whenever you sink too deep. Somehow, he still manages to look smug, taunting you with a flash of his little fangs whenever you separate. If you weren't feeling the effects of that blunt, you may have had the means to be embarrassed at how much you want him - needily grinding against him and pawing at his chest. 

It's too slow, too leisurely, like a punishment; and he refuses to give you what he knows you want. Your whines betray you when he finally slips a hand down your shorts. 

"¿Paciencia, hmm?" He grabs a handful of your ass, clothed cock catching on your clit. It rips another moan from you, which he happily swallows with another kiss. "Patience, princesa."

You hump against one another like teenagers, your hands planted by his head for purchase. Hips moving of their own accord, you chase the relief Miguel provides: with his hands kneading your ass, length catching at your clit, and teeth nipping at your bare neck. 

He licks a stripe up your collarbone, soothing the blossoming hickeys with a hum. 

Fuck, how can he be so casual ? You don't know if it's the weed or something else, but he is in his element, hand dipping down your back to graze at your pussy from behind. He hisses when he realises how wet you are, swiping his fingers down your slit and taking them out to pop them in his mouth. 

Now, flushed and face hot with embarrassment, you look up at him with big doe eyes. It makes Miguel feel guilty for stopping you so close to your climax. Beautiful : lower lip hooked under your teeth, plump and swollen and kissable. He'll make up for it later: a promise he whispers into skin. 

"You're soaked." He cups your cheek to press a kiss to your forehead, and all you can do is whine. His gaze dips down, to the swell of your tits in that thin shirt.. 

"What did you think about when you touched yourself?" It's soft, said in the warm press of your bodies; hook-shaped and hazy and you fit like you were made for one another. The thought lingers, plants a dangerous seed that makes you forget that the man underneath you is your roommate : unrepentant whore, Miguel O'Hara. 

"You." You've seen it first hand, he eats hearts for breakfast; and yours is on a platter for him to devour.

He laughs, deep and rumbling, hands resting on your waist. "I know that, baby. You don't have fantasies? Fuck yourself to the thought of someone touchin' you just right?"

Not just someone, him, you think. Your voice dies in your throat at the way he looks at you. "Just… n-nothing really-"

He hums, grinding your hips onto his. "Speechless, I can't believe it. Is this what I need to do to get some fucking peace around here?" 

You roll your eyes, "Don't be a dick, Miguel. When I shout, it's because you deserve it."

"...there it is." Eyes shining, his face stretches into a shit-eating grin. Wide, unabashed, unambiguous. "You back with the living, sweetheart?" 

It makes you laugh, even though you hate to give him the satisfaction. 

"What do you want?" He kneads your thigh and pleasure pools at the base of your stomach. 

You mumble something begrudgingly.

"Hmm? Can't hear you, baby."

Louder, now. "...want to sit on your face, Miguel." 

Lowly, he groans, shaking his head. "Mierda… of course you do."

Expertly, he helps you take your shorts off, dragging the thin material down your thighs. You clambers upwards, wrapping them around his shoulders, watching intently as he kneads the soft skin. It's tentative, at first, and you place your hands on the headboard to perch just above his mouth. 

He licks, diving in with the flat of his tongue: a long upwards stroke that ends with him sucking your clit. Moaning, your hips jump and he chases your pretty pussy up, large palms pushing you back down. He concentrates on your bundle of nerves, lips around your clit like a man on a mission.

And, God, does it feel good; he watches and learns from your every movement, committing your body to memory. His moans vibrate deliciously, tension building at that spot faster than your mind can register it. Then, you clench around nothing, gushing into his mouth whilst he eases you through it. The noises he makes are obscene; one leg off the bed and a hand snaked under his boxers. He's getting off on it; watching you crumple and sob around his tongue. 

And when you begin to move off, thighs sore, he doesn't relent, sealing his mouth on your pretty little hole. 

"Miguel.. fuck-" After your first orgasm, it surprises you when he continues, tongue fucking you with fervour. He presses you close, impossibly close, and your body fights against his ministrations. Heat, everywhere, and it's too much. The haze of the blunt begins to wear off and you are left with biting clarity. You want more of him, deeper; drunk off of just his tongue. 

You card your hands in his hair, and he moans: deep and wanton, with his eyes fluttering shut. He wants to look, to watch you when you cum on his tongue for a second time. Back arched, the curve of your tits peeking through a tiny top, fucking yourself on his face. He wants it hard , wants you to take control and use him to get off. 

"Right there, fuck… "

Like you can hear his thoughts, you press yourself down harder, riding the deep ridge of his nose for relief. Miguel complies and leans into it. He eats you out like a man starved and the carnality of it all brings you to a second peak. You cum once again, legs wrapped tight around his face. Head back, he laps it up readily. 

You separate with a wet pop, and Miguel looks blissful : fucked out and panting, wiping the slick off of his face with a forearm. Exhausted, you lean back onto the mattress beside him. 

"That was…" He searches for the right word, and it's your turn to finish for him. 

"... good. " Scarily good. So good you won't be able to see him around the apartment without remembering what he looks like trapped between your thighs. 

Gently, he turns to cup your cheek and bring your lips to his. It starts off sweet and deepens rapidly, making that thread at the pit of your stomach tighten, again. He grabs your thigh, bringing it closer, and you feel his length poking your stomach. Fuck. 

"You haven't…?" Your hand makes for his trousers, and he stops you. "I want to, Miguel. Want you to feel good too."

His head sinks into your shoulder. "I know, baby, I know. Not like this. Not yet."

You nod, still wrapped up in his arms. You haven't even fucked, and it feels more intimate than it should. 

"You've got a 9am tomorrow." He smiles with a hand underneath his head. 

"I've got a 9am tomorrow," You repeat, sighing. "...and my life is falling apart. I'm failing half of my classes as it is."

He turns to you, lazily. 

"I could tutor you, if you'd like."

…

"That's not fucking funny, Miguel."

_

_

Miguel taglist: @d1lf-loverrr, @afro-hispwriter @ilovemiguelohara @weedxgirlx420 @ladydovahkiin180 @aaliyuh3 @sweetanimebakery @vvitcxen @rosecoloredlenses708 @daikondal @magikmina @impettywhenyouare @alonelygirlsuicidenote @plushyplants @javi0ca @rheeves @starrfruit @nikirikii @marsbars09 @foxglove-grove @mimooyi @crosshairclown @dead-by-light @kynamitedessert @naarra @wanderlustingcastaway @sagejin @cookielovesbook-akie @tangerineloverrr @gobblegluckgluckgod @wolfiepirate @jxxey3 @ebrysteria @elliemm @manchuria @youngghostpeachslime @weasleybuns @ilovemuppets @vauriz @bonbyon @aimno256 @ancientbeing10 @tvije @venus1224idkpleaze @neteyamsbulletwound @chickenjefferson-blog @maki-z @jasjasthings

_

edit: the full fic xx

#i am very very close to making this a full fic #(implying that this isn't alr basically a full fic lmfao) #miguel o hara x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #kat_writes😼 #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara headcanons #spiderman 2099 masterlist #spiderman 2099 x reader

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: HUNGRY FOR MORE

✩ ‧ ˚. serial killer!gojo x detective!reader: fucking the serial killer you're supposed to be arresting might be the best (or worst) decision you've ever made. PART 2 | NSFW

contents: fem!reader. porn with plot, dubcon, public sex (in an alley), p –> v, orgasm denial, fingering, he cums inside, unprotected sex, degradation, praise, lil' bit of dumbification, hair pulling, squirting, dirty talk, manipulation/coercion, mentions of murder (he's a serial killer what did u expect), non-sexual mentions/usage of guns, probably more. 3K words.

author's note: wrote this instead of writing my research paper and studying for my math final. if this flops i will actually become the serial killer /j. anywaysss tagging @satoruhour @screampied @satorena.. and yes, the "season 2 coming soon" in the banner means something ;)

“looks like your little killing spree’s gonna have to come to an end,” you muse, crossing your arms and cocking an eyebrow at the man across from you. he grins back at you, and it’s almost unsettling—he looks a little too smug for a killer who’s just been caught.

“i don’t think so, sweetheart,” the man responds dryly, leaning back against the alley wall, features relaxed and at ease. he—satoru gojo—has been your target for a couple weeks, and now that you’ve finally cornered him, you find yourself feeling a little… unfulfilled. usually, when you caught criminals, they begged for mercy and showed a little more emotion than what satoru’s shown so far. 

also, the criminals usually weren’t this good-looking.

you maintain eye contact with satoru while you carefully reach into your coat’s pocket, withdrawing your phone and unlocking it. unexpectedly, satoru doesn’t make any move to stop you from dialing the number to your boss, instead smiling coyly as you do so.

“so, you’re one of those guys who don’t care what happens to them?” you ask, tilting your head as you hold the phone to your ear. satoru shrugs and his grin only widens the longer your phone rings. ten seconds pass before your phone tells you that the number you dialed is currently busy, and satoru’s muffled laughter becomes unbearably suspicious. you narrow your eyes and involuntarily take a step back. “what’s with the smile?”

satoru scoffs and dips his head, pushing himself off the wall and taking a step towards you. “y’know, you’re rather brave, comin’ out to catch a serial killer all by yourself. and in the middle of the night, too.” he stops advancing when he sees you pull a gun out of your pocket and hold it up threateningly, a look of warning in your eyes. “okay, okay, relax. i’m not gonna do anything to your pretty face.”

“what did you do?” you ask suspiciously. satoru widens his eyes in mock disbelief, as if he’s completely and utterly shocked that you’d ever accuse him of anything.

“besides the fifteen separate counts of murder? not much, really.”

“i’m not an idiot,” you snap, cocking the gun and aiming it at his head. “you’re not the one in control here, satoru gojo. spit it out before i put a bullet through your skull.”

satoru laughs and holds his hands up in surrender. “fiesty, aren’t we? it’s alright, i like my girls with a little fire in them.” he tilts his head to the side and looks you up and down, eyes lingering on parts of you that suddenly make you feel naked, despite the coat covering most of your figure. “put down the gun, sweetheart, then we can talk.”

you wait a second, scanning satoru’s overly relaxed face before cautiously lowering the gun. “what are you hiding?” you ask again, eyes hardening.

“a lot of things. but i think you’re talking about what i did to your boss, right?”

“you have five seconds before i shoot you.”

satoru makes a face and then rolls his eyes dramatically. “fine, since you’re bein’ so pushy about it. i killed him, obviously. you’re a smart girl, shouldn’t you have figured that out by now?” when you don’t immediately answer, satoru sighs and shakes his head. “and here i thought that the girl who’d been tailing me for the past week would have a little sense in that pretty head of hers. looks like i was wrong.”

“shut it,” you snap again, re-dialing the number and letting your phone ring for fifteen seconds. when nobody picks up, you internally curse and think about what to do next. dialing 911 would be worth a try, but the look in satoru’s ice-blue eyes makes you think otherwise. despite the gun in your hand, something about him makes you entirely certain that he could overpower you, even if you landed a shot on him. and even if you just shot him right now, he’s been shown in the past to be able to function fine with a bullet through his chest. that’s how two of your subordinates lost their lives to him—by underestimating your city’s notorious killer.

so you decide to bide your time.

“ran out of options?” satoru asks smugly. he raises an eyebrow when you slide your phone back into your pocket and exhales a laugh. “you gonna wait for a big, strong man to rescue you? ‘cause i’m right here, honey, and i could be your savior.”

“that was actually the shittiest line i’ve ever heard,” you scoff, rolling your eyes at the self-satisfied look on his face. “are you seriously proud of that one?”

“well, it worked.”

he pushes himself off the alley wall and towards you so fast that you hardly even have time to process it, and before you know it, you’re the one pressed to a wall with a gun to the side of your head. satoru’s other hand grabs both your wrists and pins them above your head, and his face is close enough to the point where you can feel his breath—which is unexpectedly minty—on your cheeks as he grins down at you. “you really think i’d use a line as shitty as that if i didn’t know it’d make you lower your guard? tch, you really shoulda known better.”

you use every curse word you’ve ever heard in that moment and grit your teeth, rapidly thinking through all the possible ways you could get out of this situation, but nothing comes to mind. you’re quite literally stuck in between a rock and a hard place, with a gun pressed to your head and with your limbs out of commission. 

satoru clicks his tongue and widens his eyes at you, leaning in closer. his lips are uncomfortably close to your own as he traces the gun down the side of your face, cold metal brushing against your heated skin. “not gonna fight back? that’s no fun.”

“the fuck you want me to do?” you snap irritably, glaring up at him and curling your hands into fists. satoru tightens his grip on your wrists and cooes a sarcastic apology to you, taking his time looking you up and down again. if you didn’t value your life, you probably would’ve said worse, but seeing as you were the only person in this ridiculously isolated alley, it wouldn’t be worth much. 

“i dunno. didn’t that detective academy or whatever teach you anything?”

you roll your eyes again, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you consider the possibility of your eyes getting permanently stuck in the back of your head just because of him. “y’know, you’re not giving me a whole lot of options.”

satoru laughs. “if i did, that’d defeat the whole purpose, wouldn’t it?”

at this point, death would be preferable to hearing his idiot talk any longer.

“so, i’m gonna be the one asking the questions from now on,” satoru continues, clicking his tongue disapprovingly when you scowl. “if you behave, i won’t hurt you that badly, ‘kay? keep that in mind.”

“thought you liked your girls feisty.”

“oh, that’s true,” satoru muses thoughtfully. “yeah, never mind, you can be a little bratty. i need a reason to fuck you stupid anyways,” he grins after a moment of consideration.

“what the fuck?”

“you heard me, sweetheart,” satoru cooes, feeling his pants tighten as he watches your eyes widen. your “tough” demeanor drops for a split second, and satoru can’t help but want to fuck it off again when it returns. your scowl deepens and you frantically think through all your options again, but there isn’t a whole lot you can do at this point.

“if you wanna stay alive, you’ll be a good girl and you won’t scream,” satoru murmurs, leaning in closer and pressing his lips to yours. you grit your teeth and try to shove him away with your shoulder, but it doesn’t do much. satoru smiles against your lips and hums softly, pulling away with an almost affectionate look on his face. it’s so at odds with who he is and what he’s done that you drop your guard again, wanting to believe that he really will keep his promise not to hurt you.

satoru sees the shift in your features and smiles tenderly, all traces of his borderline-sadistic look gone. he studies your face for a moment and kisses the corner of your mouth, letting his lips linger for a second before he pulls away again. “i’m gonna let your hands go now, m’kay?” when he drops your wrists, they fall limply on his shoulders as you warily study him, eyes wide with confusion. it’s jarring, the way he just… changed personalities within the span of a couple seconds. “i’m not gonna hurt you, pretty,” he breathes, dropping the gun and letting it fall to the floor with a loud thwak. “this’ll be a lot more fun for me if you don’t resist, yeah?”

oh, fuck it.

“okay,” you murmur, ignoring every siren going off in your head. you don’t really have any other options, and honestly, nobody was going to walk by and get you out of this sticky situation anytime soon. and satoru was pretty attractive… and you could just arrest him afterwards, right?

as if he read your mind, satoru smiles and promises, “you can handcuff me after i’m done with you. just let me have a little fun one last time, baby.”

yeah, it’d be a stupid decision to believe the sweet-talker towering over you. there’s no way he’s just going to let you drag him off to jail, but there’s a reason he’s stayed out of the grasp of the law for so long. it’s hard to live a life as on-the-edge as being a serial killer, but the reason satoru’s survived for this long is because he knows how to use his words. he knows how to make a person go against every warning in their head, and he knows how to get what he wants.

which, for tonight, includes you.

“you have thirty—no, twenty minutes,” you mumble, knowing damn well that this would be the end of your career as a detective. whether or not you dragged satoru in after all this, you could never continue your work knowing you had sex with the biggest serial killer in the city.

satoru laughs and kisses you again, lips trailing down your face and settling on your neck. “haven’t i already made it clear that i’m the one in control here?” he muses as he slips his hands under your coat and tugs it off. it falls to the cold ground and bunches up around your feet, leaving you in a button-up shirt and flowy, dark pants. “c’mon, let’s get these clothes off you.”

within a minute, the rest of your clothes save for a black lacy pair of undergarments join your coat on the floor, and the chilly nighttime air nips at your skin. “i’m cold,” you mumble, feeling yourself involuntarily tense up everywhere but where satoru’s hands cloak your skin. satoru laughs in response and presses his knee to the spot in between your thighs, and something in you snaps at the point of contact. 

“you really are an idiot, aren’t ya,” satoru scoffs, hand sliding down to your waist. his fingers latch on the waistband of your panties and he tugs them down, exposing your already-wet pussy to the cold evening air and his eyes. “lettin’ a serial killer fuck you in a dark alley… what kind of detective does that?” satoru spits on two of his fingers and slips them inside you, instantly groaning when he feels you clench around him. “fuck, you gotta be the tightest pussy i’ve felt in a while,” he mutters, white hair falling into his eyes as he looks down shamelessly. “do you not have sex with other guys?”

“don’t have time,” you swallow what would’ve been an embarrassingly loud moan as his fingers go deeper and deeper. how long are this man’s fucking fingers?

“aw, look at you, you’re so cute,” satoru cooes, smiling down at your scrunched up face. you look back at him through squinted eyes, hips starting to roll against his fingers. it’s true—you really haven’t had time to have sex given your already-insane schedule. it’s almost like you spent more time tracking the man who’s now knuckle-deep inside you than sleeping, but the slutty part of your head tells you that it paid off.

“‘m gonna cum,” you whine pitifully, squirming around satoru’s fingers as he curls them inwards, making you clench around him even tighter. a shiver runs over your body, starting from in between your thighs and spreading all over you as satoru’s fingers move back and forth inside your soaking wet cunt. “g-gojo—”

“call me satoru, baby, and you’re not cumming until i say you can.” with that, satoru withdraws his fingers from your pussy with a pop! and grins at the way you glare at him sullenly. he mockingly pouts and licks his drenched fingers clean, tongue lapping up your essence. “heh, don’t worry, i’ll make you cum more than you knew you could once you’re stuffed with my cock.”

although you’ve determined satoru’s “promises” to be dubious at best, he fufills this one after he’s spread your legs wide open and positioned his cock at your entrance. “this might hurt, baby, but remember, no screaming.” after you nod in acknowledgement, satoru slips his tip in and watches, amused, as you try to close your legs on reflex. “uh uh, keep ‘em nice and wide f’me,” satoru tuts disapprovingly.

and true to his word, it hurts—a dull ache spreads throughout your legs as his dick goes farther and farther inside you, reaching places you hadn’t felt in a long time. satoru’s hands settle somewhere on your waist as he pushes himself deeper, ignoring your gasps and pleas for him to slow down a little. your shaky hands move to his hair and you unwittingly pull on it, somehow eliciting a soft groan from satoru’s lips, and somewhere in the back of your mind you think that of course a serial killer has a hair pulling kink—it just makes sense. 

“s-satoru, it won’t fit,” you whisper, feeling satoru hit an especially tight spot in your cunt. even with how wet you are, it just feels like you can’t possibly take any more of him—he might as well be ten feet inside you, given the pain in your hips. but, as expected, satoru only smiles tauntingly down at you and murmurs words of encouragement as he somehow pushes past the barrier and gets all the way in amid your pained whimpers.

“yeah, that’s it, knew you could do it,” satoru says sweetly, voice coated with poisonous honey. now that he’s all the way in, the ache from your waist down starts to fade into pleasure, especially as satoru starts moving himself in and out to get you used to the feeling of his dick. “just like that, pretty girl. jus’ like that.”

soon enough, he sets an unexpectedly harsh pace that makes your back arch off the cold, brick wall behind you, and even as satoru tries to keep up his “cool serial killer” act, you can hear his quivering breaths as he gets close to cumming. “shit, i forgot how fuckin’ good it felt to fuck a cunt this tight—” he mutters through gritted teeth. “‘m gonna cum inside, ‘kay?”

you nod breathlessly, chasing your own pleasure and not actually listening to the words satoru murmurs in your ear. at this point, it didn’t matter—all your pathetic little head could think about was satoru’s dick, and somehow, you forget that he’s a killer when he cums inside you. it’s hot and thick and it almost knocks you over—when was the last time you felt this good, if ever?

the coil in your stomach snaps and you cum with him, nodding along to satoru’s praises on how well you’re taking him. you squirt all over his painfully hard dick and suck in a sharp breath as you do so, body trembling from the force of both of your orgasms.

“see, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” satoru murmurs when you both come down from your highs, stroking your hair almost tenderly. you bob your head in response, face warm and eyes unable to properly focus. he stuffs his fingers back inside your puffy cunt and scoops the cum dripping down your thighs back inside, mumbling something about not letting a single drop go to waste. “who knew the pretty detective i’d had my eye on would be this good to me?” he cooes, grinning snarkily.

satoru’s earlier promise floats through your head and you force yourself to look him in the eye. “y-you said you’d let me arrest you after,” you breathe, back still pressed to the wall as satoru surveys you amusedly.

“oh, sweetheart, you’re in no condition to be giving orders,” satoru says condescendingly, pulling up his pants and grinning at you. his cheeks are still flushed red, but whether that’s from the cold nighttime air or from the heated sex, you don’t quite know. “we should do this again sometime,” he continues conversationally as he picks up your coat for you. despite the fact that you’re still naked and trembling, satoru drapes your coat around your shoulders and helps you button it up.

“but you said—” you protest, but satoru cuts you off with a raised eyebrow.

“you didn’t seriously believe me, did you?” satoru tuts, shaking his head. “i’m a serial killer. i’m not gonna turn myself in just ‘cause of a detective’s pretty pussy, baby. you should’ve known better, doll.” satoru wraps an arm around your limp shoulders and tugs you in for a kiss, lips pressing firmly against your own for a couple seconds before he pulls away with a satisfied smile.

he leaves you with a promise to see you soon.

#osaemu #gojo smut #jjk smut #satoru gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #jjk x you #satoru gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo x y/n #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #satoru gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x y/n

[screampied]

can u pleasee do jjk mens fav positions ? or have u already done that

‘ CARTWHEEL ON THE D!CK ☆ ! ’

starring ꒱ geto, gojo, shiu, hiromi, choso, sukuna, toji ?!

@WARNINGS. fem! reader, praise, dirty talk, mentions of breeding, full nelson, missionary, (rev) + cowgirl, prone bone, size kinks, overstim, tummy bulge, face riding, impact play, shotgunning, squirting, till the bed breaks 18+

TOJI ✰ DOGGYSTYLE

“down, girl.”

with the pitch of his tone— that was how easy it was for him to have you arched over, bent over his wooden desk. your pussy was still sopping from earlier, needing a moment to get over your most recent teeth-shattering orgasm. toji prefers missionary too but he mainly loves doggystyle just so he could peer a few peeks at your ass. so cute, he smears his swollen tip against your saturated entrance before groaning. sloshes of cries die out from your folds as he’s ogling at how you’re so eager to swallow him up. leisurely, his fat, throbbing tip makes its way into you and he yanks the back of your tank top. “tojiiii, ‘s not gonna fit again,” you gasp, a broad free hand of his grabs a good chunk of your ass before spanking it. you moan from the sting, the pulse it gifts between your legs couldn’t have been any more embarrassing. “so f-fuckin’ big.”

“say that everytime ‘n ya still take it like a good slut,” he growls, feeling a hot sensation burn near the tips of his ears. you’re so feverish inside, he bites his lip before shoving you further against the desk. one single thrust and your life flashes before your eyes. his cock metaphorically splits the inside of your cunt open, having your lips pry apart and you hear that sinister snicker of his from behind you. “ugh. gotta be careful with you though. with a pussy this wet, might fall in love, heh.”

toji’s speed was always simply relentless—your chest would continuously thwack against the furniture, bump after bump occurring. it’s so loud, his dick pivots and reaches so deep, it rummages through every single orifice and you repeat your whines for him again and again.

“f-fuuuck, toji,” you’d babble out, the same words spewing out your lips on a constant never-ending loop like a mantra. full balls of his occasionally tap against you. with your legs parted, you’re all sprawled open for him. toji knew the layout of your pussy— he had to. with a sharp piston of his hips, his thrusts start to become more vigorous. you could barely match let alone keep up with his pace.

with doggystyle, toji was simply animalistic,

one of his favorite things to do was to wrap his thick fingers around your throat, putting his face up close to yours. “awww, babygirl. ‘s too deep? want me to go slower for you, baby? i can go slow for the pretty girl.”

he’s teasing you—pitching his voice in that faux caring tone, he drags his tongue against your neck and you whine, whimpering out a, “f-faster, fuck me faster, ‘toj.”

“well excuse me. then shut up ‘n take this dick,” and his words punctuate through every part of his dialogue. rough emphasis on his sentences—you gasp, feeling the crown of his cock prof against your g-spot. a scratch through your brain surges and you were already stupid. “take it like it’s yours,” he gruffs, his voice lowering a bit. your gummy walls squeeze against him tightly and it makes him suck his teeth. so soft, fleshy mounds of your ass gets grabbed by the rough hands of toji. throughout each spank he gives you, it rings in your ears like wedding bells. it only encourages you to fuck back against him quicker, making haste. “yeah, fuck me back. take this dick like ya own it.”

you’re hitting back and forth against him, feeling the way toji steadily pries open your pussy with the fat, plump head of his dick. he grunts, pushing your head back down into the sheeny polished desk until it’s smushed against the plethora of scattered papers. “t- toji, right there, right there please.”

“i know the fuck where,” he snarls, feeling his thin nostrils flare— it makes him a bit vexed with how easily your cunt takes him. swallowing him up, he can’t help but stare at how well you’re taking his mean backshots from behind. a big hand of his is still yanking onto the very back fabrics of your tank top before he quite literally tears it into two. “oop. my bad,” he snickers, hearing a cute gasp come out of you. he’s still balls deep before you whine.

“toji, my shirt !”

“yeah, what about it.”

you frown, he’s still deep into churning your guts before you speak with each moan butchering the delivery of your voice. “what do you mean what about it, that was a gift!”

“girl, chillax. i’ll get ya a new one.”

he doesn’t.

GOJO ✰ PRONE BONE.

“shh, you don’t gotta talk when you’re bent over for me, angel,” he’d hush you, and he brings a thumb near your puckering hole to daub the remnants of his sticky, glutinous cum back into you, preventing it from spilling back out again.

you whine, feeling every deep thrust he presents you. he’d just gotten done with filling you up to the brim—yet he doesn’t stop, he’s hungry for more. a hand goes over your mouth, a lustrous sheet of your own slobber paints the palm of his hand in response and he hums. gojo favors prone bone because he likes the closeness of your body against his.

it’s like doggystyle but better,

with your sundress lazily pulled up, he’s got better access and your tummy continually caves in. gojo’s so lengthy, you were still surprised he’d even manage to fit. it was a tight fit but he managed, plugging up your sweetened aperture. warm breathy pants fan against your skin and you whine, his hefty base repeatedly trouncing against your cunt. he was so up close to you, his weight pressing into you so deep that you’re at a loss of words. “s—satoru,” you whimper, feeling his tip stimulate against your most tender spots. each breath you had became more shaky, you were already pumped full of ropy, viscid amounts of his cum from before. your words were a bit muffled but he could still make out your adorable mewls. “so f-full.”

“well yeah. wouldn’t want ya to be empty,” he fake frowns, giving your ass an abrupt spank.

you bite back a moan by sucking your teeth, feeling his shaft reach even deeper angles. he’s got your pussy opening over and over, you’re drooling by this point, being met with slow yet deep hits. it’s primal for a few seconds once he pulls out - only to pull back in, then out again. you start to babble, hating whenever he did that.

gojo was a menace, he wanted to make you beg for more—you feel a fervor wash over you before your maw dangles open. the moment he pulls his dick out, he stares in awe at the thick volumes of cum exuding out of your flooded entrance. “oh, look at thaaaaat,” he sings lowly, staring at the mess painted between your thighs. he’s got the smuggest grin, watching such satiny ropes dribble down your slit. “my my, she’s just so pretty! look at how full she gets too, fuckin’ sloppy.”

“f-finish fucking me, ‘toru,” you pant in heavy breaths, already missing the fullness his dick supplied.

still, you’re over here arched over like some slut. a few cold whiffs of air wafts against your skin and you moan. you hear him sneer out a, ‘awww,’ before he brings his leaky tip back toward your swollen folds. it was so messy, unkempt and shimmering with his seed. gojo grows quiet, smearing his fat reddened tip against your pussy to hear the wet sloshes it creates. “pleaseeee, finish f-fuckin’ me.”

“say pretty please,” he coos, purposely sinking just the fattened tip inside before wresting it back out. he does it over and over, imagining your cute little pout displayed on your face from frustration.

you whine out a sweet, “p-pretty please?”

“pretty please what?” he whispers, strumming a thumb against your throbbing clit. he was edging you, your whines—despite them falling onto deaf ears, you whine again. gojo simpers, trailing a hand down your sensitive spine. “c’monnn. i have no idea what you’re saying please for, angel. you could be saying ‘pretty please can i finish?’ or ‘pretty please can i—”

“pretty please finish f-fucking m-” you grumble, although it sounds more like a desperate moan. even your words backfired on you, he found it so cute how you tried to maintain a rough exterior with your voice but end up failing miserably. you wanted him to finish so bad that you start to swiftly grind against him with your ass still raised up. he loves hearing you like that, so whiny and needy for more—yet once you were about to whine out another needy plea, you hear a sudden snap.

instantaneously, your initial reaction was to flinch and as you peek up—you spot the the wooden headboard snapping in half, the box spring shortly following to collapse. gojo’s still buried balls deep and he doesn’t even realize. only then does he start drilling his fat cock into you at a much quicker pace and you gasp, bawling the sheets into your hand. “s-satoru, fuck fuuuck.”

“oh damn the bed broke,” he sighs, barely acknowledging your moans—you’re so close to your release, feeling the sharp stabbing twist of his hips and he makes you fuck right back into him again and again. with a hand sneaking its way to tug at your hair, he leans up close to your ear before purring low. “hm. that sucks,” and as his hefty cock jackhammers into your loose cunt for the nth time today, he cheeses. “but uh, you’ll buy me- i mean us a new one right? riiiight?”

GETO ✰ REVERSE COWGIRL.

he loves whenever you ride him in reverse—your ass just throwing back against him, it drives him crazy.

with strong, ripped arms wrapped around your waist, a breathy pant leaves his lips and he‘s panting, his mind's racing and racing as he’s awaiting for your finish to peacefully come.

geto groans, you’re taking in every inch of his fat cock, you grow dumb quickly and your brain starts to spiral within seconds. “f-fuck, more. throw that ass back against me harder, wanna feel you.”

geto’s smooth words couldn’t have been any more seductive against your ear. big hands of his drag towards your tummy, his touch sending you shivers constantly before you moan. you’re jerking back against him with your mouth pried open, dilated irises glancing at your pathetic reflection of the mirror that stood in front of you both. “s-suguuu,” you moan, leaning back until your back presses against his bare chest. his warmth makes the butterflies in your tummy whir around at such a speed,

everything about your body was just enticing.

the way you just grip around him drove him wild. steadily holding his dick hostage with your saturated, gummy walls — it drives geto to the first street of erotic insanity. he’s haphazardly buried balls deep, the jaggy smacks that go up and down all due to your sweet hips makes him go mad. lengthy musses of black strands gets caught in his face and he gnaws on his bottom lip. a mucilaginous white ring that coats around his full base sticks against your skin the more your movements rises its tempo.

he’s panting right with you, hot puffy breaths of air leaving each lips, he wraps a hand around your throat before tenderly skimming his thumb down your passageway. making you almost twist your head to stare at him, he whispers, “easy. don’t cum on me yet, gorgeous. can ya wait jus’ a little to be messy for me?”

you frown a bit, pretty spit-glossed lips pursing together into a sweet pout before you whine once he reaches a pivotal certain spot. sage-colored boxers of his was lazily pulled down near his perfectly sculpted pelvic bone—even that was unintentionally sexy, all for a good fuck.

“but— but i can’ttt,” you whimper, feeling the familiar juddering sensation mash all into you.

“wait for me,” he whispers, a hand rubbing against your tummy. you pause your stuttering hips, leaning back into his touch. geto attacks the entirety of your neck with sugared kisses. he’s so tender, you gasp once he feels against the outline of his bulge. “mhm. you feel me here, don’t you pretty? ‘m so deep in you, fuck.”

your pussy’s voluntarily tightening before easing up and you let off soft mewl. “suguru, don’t stop,” and your plea was so sweet. he holds your hips firmly in place before pecking a honeyed kiss near your nape. with how lewd the angle was, you made sure your knees were planted forward as you slouched all the way back. he stuffed your walls so full despite how you brought your eager hips to a saddened halt. his girth wears you thin, you moan once he then brings two hands to squeeze against your tits. so handsy, a finger of his swipes against your perked nipple and you whine. “wanna finish riding you, sugu please.”

“my love, you’re going to. don’t be such a baby,” and that’s only once he turns you around—you inhale a single breath, meeting his pretty face and he pulls you into a deep kiss. geto’s kisses always tasted to candied, so honeyed with nothing but love and affection.

“oh, but i love you,” he says between kisses, leaving your face with multiple targets. he watches your expression turn shy, even leaning in to kiss the soft bridge of your nose. “mwah,” he concludes in a weary breath, holding onto your hips again. you hover over his tip and he grunts, knowing you wanted to ride him again. “always know how to- make me fall more ‘n more in love with you. messy girl,” and a dimple pokes against his cheek once he lies back. “my good messy girl.”

SHIU ✰ COWGIRL.

“ah ah, let me finish my cigarette first,” shiu would hum in a soft low tone, watching you hover over his exposed tip.

he was shirtless—dark cerulean blue boxers pulled all the way down by you and a lit cig sticks out from the left part of his mouth. he shoots you a sly smile, watching the pout on your lips grow as you didn’t wanna wait for him. you needed him carnally, he flashes you a similar coy grin before wrapping an arm around you. “fine. you never listen. i spoil ya too bad, sweets.”

“shiu, want more,” you’d whisper, and he groans once he feels you align himself against your needy hole. you felt the head of his cock scrape against your entrance—a few spurts of pre-cum coat against your folds so slickly. a hitched breath gets caught in his throat before he leans back, manspread. “wanna smoke with you.”

“hm,” he hums in a more form of a question. he’s got quite the length to him. he grunts, feeling the squelches your cunt makes in retaliation. the entire scenery of it all was so crude, he’s amused. with that cute expression of yours, he wants to buy you anything in the world. shiu rubs a hand down your back, easing you to take him fully before you moan at the stretch. “you wanna smoke too, darlin’? ‘s that what y’er tellin’ me?”

“y-yes,” you whimper in a cute plea, rocking your hips once he’s all the way in. he fit perfectly—nice and snug like a key fits a lock.

shiu had such dangerous girth to him too, your mouth desperately opens as you feel every inch. you even feel a slight upward curve he had, something as small as that made you throb—even the vein that runs down the center of his dick, you felt the twitch inside of you. he raises a brow, hazy eyes focusing on your every move. your moves were always so slow it was simply hypnotic. leaning up close, you press a wet kiss near the corner of his mouth. “kiss me.”

“now you’re just gettin’ greedy, baby,” he purrs, inhaling a single puff of hot smoke again. you watch with dilated hearty eyed pupils, and he cups your chin. “very well, open that mouth f’me.”

glossy lips of yours part, he pulls you in for a sultry wet kiss but before he does that, he blows the smoke that was in his mouth right into yours. you whine, bottom lip quivering as it pours right in so easily. the taste was smoky, despite it being literal air, you could still taste it.

shiu’s got half-lidded eyes staring at you, a smirk curling on his lips before he finally gives you that kiss you direly craved. it was deep, you’re still slowly hurtling your hips before he brings two hands to fondle with your neglected breasts. you mewl into his mouth, tasting the lingering flavor of smoke and a dash of mint. his tongue curls against yours, flicking his cigarette away onto the ash tray before pulling you closer. he tastes so intoxicating, a hand squeezes your ass firmly before he groans—you being jittery against his hips has his head spinning.

“s-shit,” shiu phews, globules of sweat racing down the sides of his face. with an almost flustered, out of breath look, he speaks in a soft tone. “you .. you want more, don’t ya sweets? guess y’er not finished with me after all, huh?”

“lie back, shiu,” you breathe in short breaths, softly pressing the clammy palms of your hands onto his bare chest. bristles of curled chest hair prick against your skin before he leans further back, slyly smiling at your sudden dominance. he watches as you pick up his thin cig, sticking it between your own teeth as your hips roll against him in mirroring unison.

“yes ma’am,” he smiles, a hand gripping onto your ass before giving it another spank. “do whatever ya want to me, sweets. ‘m all yours.”

SUKUNA ✰ FULL NELSON.

with full nelson—more than anything, sukuna likes to leave his favorite girl feeling stretched.

so stretched to where you can feel him reach the very deep pits of your cunt. he leaves you with ropes of his cum oozing out of you, he can’t help it — especially with a size he has. a thick shaft with staggering inches, every time he pumps another load into you, you’re drooling for more.

“oh, you’re so weak today,” he huffs out in a single breath, watching your lifeless body just dangle against his lap.

your legs were held above your head and within minutes, pretty eyes of yours were on the verge of rolling way back toward depths of your skull to see only splotches of pure black. you’re a whiny mess, barely able to synchronize with his rigorous pace. his front forearms has your legs in place, another is strumming the calloused tips of his fingers against your jittery hips. he’s so deep that you can feel the bulge of his dick extend through your tummy. a hand of his grabs your chin, pulling down on your bottom lip. “my, i’ve got such a such a sloppy girl,” he points out, brushing a thumb against your lips that was glistening with sweet spit. “with an even sloppier pussy.” and a hand of his reaches down to spank against your folds. you whine, feeling your entire body heat up from something as simple from his notorious touch.

“su— sukunaaaa,” you’d whine, basically being treated like a rag doll. a perfect way to capture your physical essence. just being thrown around, he punctures everywhere inside of your goopy walls, making his cock get known between your heat. your moans only grow louder until he shoves two fingers into your mouth. fluttering lashes lower before you happily suck on his fingers, swirling your tongue against his digits and he cackles. “mphmmm.”

“good girl, suck on them. use that little mouth for somethin’ more important,” and with each bounce of your hips, your brows furrow in pleasure. a jumbled of nerves that rest inside your stomach continues to build up—you know that particular feeling approaching and it was pure bliss. a brief twinge of a sting resides near your entrance as he hits against a spot that leaves your eyes widening. he found your secluded g-spot. a hand of yours squeezes onto the curses’s thigh and he hums in amusement. “oh, i found that little spot didn’t i, pretty?” and his pace quickens ever so slightly, hefty dick slamming into you time and time again. “this— pathetic spot . . riiiiight fuckin’ here?”

his breath was hot, all up against the soft lobe of your ear. with his deep voice alone, you’d cream all over his cock without any sorts of shame. jocularly, sukuna seeps his fangs into your neck, a low guffaw following from the back of his throat. you sucked on his fingers until you gag as response. you then pout as he pulls them out, stringy webs of saliva following his two digits.

“i-i’m gonna cu—” and your words get interrupted by the goading prod of his cock thrashing against that same spot. your mouth grows ajar and a sweet raw moan exits from your lips. you’re so at disbelief that you end up gushing all on his lap yet he doesn’t even notice you squirted until you look down.

“hmph,” sukuna scoffs, one of his arms reaching down between your legs. he smears his stubby thumb against your entrance, feeling how doused it was with your slick arousal. taking you out of the flexing minacious position, he turns you to face him now. prodding a thumb between your now swollen folds, he delves a finger inside before pulling it out, only to pop the same finger into his mouth. you watch, tremulous breaths leaving your mouth and he smugly smiles, taking pride in your embarrassed state.

“how sweet,” and as he laps up the mess on his fingers on his own tongue, he grabs your chin again, pulling you into a kiss. you whine, returning the gesture almost immediately. you’re needy still, grinding against the king’s lap—his dick that was laid against him flat, so thick and even more full. he snickers between the kisses, holding you close and you taste yourself on his mouth. after a while, he departs away before grumbling. “off. you made a mess on me, woman,” and he crosses his arms, a pout on his lips. “don’t just sit there. clean it off with your tongue, i’ll wait.”

HIGURUMA ✰ FACE RIDING

“a-ah,” he lets off a soft sigh, bringing a few kisses towards your inner thighs. you bring up you want to ride his nose and after that moment, it easily becomes his favorite position. he’s gentle, making sure to attack near the very sweet crevices with his lips. with an amused, jocular raise of a brow, he runs a thumb down your sopping wet slit. “aw, you wanna ride it, dontcha? you’ve been starin’ at my nose all day, sugar.”

with a twitch of your lips, you shift your weight that’s barely hovering over his mouth. “yes,” and hiromi’s got nothing more than tender smile— he knew what you wanted, ride his face but most importantly, ride his nose. “i just— i don’t wanna suffocate you with my thighs though, ‘romi. want you to be able to breathe.”

he ambushes your folds with a multitude of kisses before a sly grin forms against his pink sheeny lips. “you won’t do such a thing,” he reassures you, and you whine once he creates a single licking stripe near your entrance. “there there, just lay it on me, sweetheart,” and his voice couldn’t have been any more soothing— it’s alluring, each syllable that drags out of his mouth has you pulsing continuously. dark irises stare into you before he blows softly against your cunt. “give it to me, sit on my face ‘n enjoy the ride. i got ya.”

higuruma’s all laid back comfortably against the bed—he’s ready to feast, the moment you finally sink your quavering weight down onto him, his tongue makes a quick greeting. you bite your lip, the cold texture residing on his tongue makes you squirm a bit. “f-fuuuck, hiromi,” you whine, peering your eyes down and his hooded lids were already growing low and heavy. two rough hands of his grasp tightly against your ass, occasionally brushing his thumbs against your warm skin. his movements were slow but precise—he makes sure to allow his tongue to rummage all throughout your pussy. just a single taste and he’s already craving for more.

you’re addictive,

as you’re still trying to flutter your hips over his mouth but he only pulls you further down. you moan, feeling the slickness of your cunt rub against his nose. it slides against the bumpy bridge of it and he groans. with rough pants, he breaks away every few seconds to give you a praise or two, “thaaaat’s it, ride it jus’ like that, sugar.”

he had to multitask from breathing through his mouth and nose—you had him going feral, his tongue knew no bounds. it swirls all through your entrance before he starts to suck against the pulsating nub of your clit. that particular spot does something to your brain. higuruma studies your moments—every jolt your thighs does he watches, how sensitive, how needy you were. all from a few licks, the feeling of his nose prodding against your cunt was a soft gnarled texture. it tickles a bit at first before you’re left with moaning repeatedly. “hngh, so good, ‘romi. don’t stop p-please.”

he shoots you a sneer, a thumb of his snaking towards your clit to play with it also. the nerves you felt in every part of your clit makes you stupid. perspiring hands crawl into his hair, getting a good grip of his strands being lightly tugging on it. “m-mphm,” he likes that. whenever you’d give his hair just the slightest pull, it drives him crazy. you resume to grind your hips into his mouth, slowly. your rhythm despite how it wasn’t as fast as he initially wanted has him hard. higuruma feels the strain in his black work slacks the more your sweet whimpers reverberate across the entire room. the walls were quite thinx yet he could care less. if anything, the only thing that mattered between was your preciously candied pussy. his favorite treat—a dish he’d continue to ask for seconds.

strands of his hair tangle within your fingers, the vigorous buckling of your hips barely have hi time to process. he’s so sloppy, the slight curve of his tongue explores all inside the entrance of your saturated entrance and a whine dies out your throat. “m-mh, more ‘romi. your tongue’s so good,” and your voice remains to shake—you were sensitive, not before long the entire middle part of his face was covered with a sheet of your arousal. so soaked—you couldn’t help but drench him a bit, his stubble becomes glistening in your heat and he moans. you taste sweet, with low eyes he makes eye contact with you for a moment and the butterflies that reside inside your tummy makes you pulse. he feels the pulse in his mouth, stimulating every part with the tip of his tongue. he lays it flat, allowing it to ferret everywhere before he reaches there.

that sweetened g-spot—the moment his tongue shows itself towards your most precious slick orifice, he leaves it a few sweet kisses. mwah after mwah, long black lashes close as he shows your spot the utmost signs of affection. after all, he wanted to make sure he tasted all of you.

CHOSO ✰ MISSIONARY.

“don’t hide, please,” choso whispers, rutting between you. two big hands of his strokes your cheek, making sure you return his beatific gaze. dark gentle pools of eyes intake your alluring beauty before he moans into your neck. “you’re so w-warm. i love you, love makin’ you feel good.”

“i love you too,” you breathe, moaning quite a bit yourself. your voice was sweet, laced with some kind of addictive sound that makes his ears twitch whenever you speak. choso loves missionary because of how intimate it is. skin to skin, body to body—he loves the hot warmth your own body provides him every time. he’s way more vocal than you, he can’t help but suck against your skin as he’s stuffing you full of guiltless inches. “fuck,” you’d wheeze, rubbing the back of your ankle down his back. you feel him shiver at that, his face turns flustered before he reaches to hold your hand. in bed, choso was always a needy baby. he desperately wanted your touch, without it he felt like he’d die. perhaps he was a bit of a drama queen whenever it came to affection, but he was your drama queen. “choso, don’t stop your moans, baby.”

he grows quiet once you notice. the main reason he went to suck against your tender neck was to stop his whimpering whines.

he was always so embarrassed about them—so insecure.

he was forever so sensitive, the way you clamp down on him makes his breath nearly get caught in his throat. “but-” and you shyly smile, squeezing his hand tighter as his hips quicken. he’s about to finish early—you were quite familiar with his timid body language. it always gave him away. you pull him in for a quick chaste kiss, crimson lips of his mashing against yours and he pouts. once you pull away, he wants more. choso leans for a kiss and you kiss back, kiss after kiss. he feels the tip of his cock reach all sorts of mew depths within your walls. he’s clouded, feeling a rushing wave of crazed nirvana over take him sweetly. “i’m too noisy.”

“i like when you’re noisy,” you reassure him, and you visibly watch him melt into your hands. he’s so cute—you’ve got his heart throbbing, you’re so tender and patient with him that he’s falling more and more in love. choso’s tempo slows down a bit and he feels a concise spasm in the undersides of his thighs. he moans at your tenderized compliment, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

he’s still holding onto your hand, stubby fingertips sliding against yours. his touch—a perfect way to describe it was that it was hot, parching. you made him feel hot in every way and he never wanted the feeling to stop. “you can be a little louder, ‘cho. ‘s just you ‘n me.”

“you s-sure?” he whines, mending your cunt with a new shape from his jagged thrusts. he was so big, you had to constantly gnaw on your lip to conceal your own indecent noises. with a low voice, he still sounds as sweet as a kitten—his darkened brows twitch, awaiting for your answer whilst he prepares to gift your pussy with another precious gift of cum.

you have a soft smile. “i’m sure, baby,” and with a smeck, you kiss the pale temple of his cheek. choso’s heart was racing miles a minute. the moment he ends up finishing, he doesn’t hide his moans.

this time, he ends up giving you a deep kiss while his orgasm mercilessly pulls out of him. it leaves him breathless, tumefy lips of his gets swollen from each contact your own lips makes with his. he was always weak for your kisses, he’d go crazy without one.

“good boy,” you whisper, feeling his seed trickle all inside of you. hot sticky ropes, your legs snake around his slim waist, forevermore pulling him in. “let’s stay like this forever.”

“we- we will,” he mewls out, a gasp of exhaustion snatching out of him, he’s just on top of you, resting his head against your chest — still inside of you, plugging you in fully. choso’s voice was a bit raspy, strands of his hair tickle against your skin before he kisses your breasts. “i’ll never leave you. we’ll be together f-forever, princess.”

#★vegasbaby. #gojo smut #geto smut #choso smut #sukuna smut #toji smut #shiu kong #higuruma x reader #higuruma hiromi #gojo x reader #geto x reader #choso x reader #sukuna x reader #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #geto suguru x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujustsu kaisen x reader #anime smut #female reader #jjk headcanons #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #toji fushiguro smut #jjk x reader smut

[luvmila444]

SWEET RELIEF - C.S

…………………………………………….. ☆ ★ ………………………………………………

Chris sturniolo x fmreader

summary: Chris can’t help but get a bit worked up while on a tutoring study call with you, when you realise what he’s doing, you only pushing him further to the edge.

content warning: male masturbtion; dirty thoughts; praise kink

word count: 2.8k

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Chris was a little embarrassed with how fast he had picked up the phone call from you, not to mention the blush that had spread across his cheeks and his quickly paced heartbeat when he heard your sweet voice ring through the speakers. 

“Hey, Chris!” You smiled as you spread your small pile of assessments and study papers across your desk to get yourself prepared. This had been a regular thing on Wednesdays and Saturdays for the past two months. You guys would set up a phone call together as you would help him study as Chris was falling behind in class…a lot. You guys had to do it over the phone as both houses were always so busy due to Chris’s brothers and your family always occupying your living spaces, making it difficult to have privacy and quiet to help him focus and bring his grades up. Therefore, you resulted in two easy phone calls across the week, which Chris always enjoyed a little too much. 

Chris loved that you could never see him and what he was doing at the sound of your voice over the phone. The sweet ring of it through the speakers. The way you ramble so passionately about the work. Yeah… he definitely liked having the privacy of his room for these calls more then he’d like to admit. Although he can never help but imagine what you looked like, what you were doing. Fuck… he’s been on the call for no more than ten second and he’s already getting himself worked up. 

“Chris…?” He heard you voice agin. Fuck that voice. 

“Yeah... I’m here, hey y/n.” He couldn’t help the smile that rose onto his lips hearing hear giggle at his slow usual response. 

“Okay well glad you're here,” you say readying the paper you had recently got giving by your teacher, on to the top of the pill of books you had been working on, “why don’t you fine the paper that mr Hudson gave us today and we will work through that one today, yeah?” You say cutely but trying not to talk so fast so Chris could take in the information. 

“Yeah, yeah sure…” he buries his way through his overflowing piles of unfinished homework to find the paper that was given to him today by his teacher “why did he give us the paper today, anyway?” Chris huffs, flipping to the first page that you wanted to start working on. 

“I have no idea, it’s not like we don’t already get enough work given to us on Mondays and Fridays, but now on Wednesdays too? It’s getting a bit intense at this point!”

Chris hums in agreement, loving the way you get worked up about things. However, once you were done with your small rant, you let out a sign that was so quiet only the most observant person would notice it, lucky for you, Chris was that person. As you made the noise Chris felt a familiar warm feeling in his lower stomach, just imagining you making that noise in a very different scenario…

“Did you see jenny today?” You interrupted his quickly drifting dirty thought, referring to girl who passes every class, not using her smarts but her body instead, fucking her way to good grades. 

“No, why? What was she doing this time?” Chris asked slowly, trying to calm his erratic heartbeat and suppress his dirty thought of you. 

“Woah I’m surprised you didn’t see her! She was practically pushing her tits out of her very tiny top to try and get out of this paper…. practically had all the guys drooling,” you huffed. You’d always been quite jealous of Jennifer. She could literally get any guy she wanted and could always get out of these stupid papers. It was irritating to people like you who tried their very hardest in their schoolwork and seem to go zero appreciation for it, when all jenny does is gossip, do her obnoxiously babyish laugh and pop a tit, therefore having the whole classroom wrapped around her finger. It was pathetic.

“Nah, guess i don’t really care that much about her,” Chris was very aware of Jenny’s usual inappropriate behaviour, yet he couldn’t pull his eyes away from you all through that class. He was sat near the back of the class, so he had a good view of his surroundings and could easily see you sat a few rows in-front of him, at the perfect angle so her couple see you left side perfectly. Chris simply couldn’t understand how anyone could pay attention in that class knowing that you were in there, not jenny but you. 

Your short denim mini shirt that accentuated you ass and hips so perfectly and highlighting your legs. However, to keep yourself warmer and seem more modest, you through a knitted sweater over the top, making Chris’s eager to rip it off and see what you hid beneath the layers of warm wear. God, if there was nobody else in that classroom, he would not hesitate you lift you up on the desk and kiss up your legs to your perfect thighs and up your body. He would make sure to take perfect care of you, bring his lips underneath your sweater and bring his hand to you perfectly round and covered tits. 

Full, he could barely take it anymore. He could feel his harder member quickly growing underneath his get sweats, but he didn’t want to stop. No… he couldn’t stop himself.

“Huh, thats surprising, i could’ve sworn that the guys next to me literally had dribble on his chin, it was crazy.” You laughed. 

Fuck that laugh. Chris brought his hand up to his crotch and felt where he had grown harder just thinking of you. He began to palm himself, trying to relieve the growing soreness between his legs. 

"We should get started now." You unintentionally break his train of thought, as he gulps, silently cursing at himself. "Because I you barely understood what was going on it that class."

"Uh, yeah." Chris coughed, forcing himself to focus. "What did you want to start with?" 

You voice begins to drift into an explanation of what was said at the beginning of the class, only worded in a simpler way, yet Chris could barely take in any of this information. You speak so innocently, brows furrowed, as Chris furrows his own for an entirely different reason. 

He continues to palm his dick through his pants while your voice was sending small electric jolts through him. All the way down to his dick, which has begun to strain painfully against his pants beneath his hand. Christ, i can’t actually be doing this right now-he thinks to himself. He licked his lips, quickly responding to what you were saying with a hum and an "ah, that makes makes more sense." 

Chris doesn't mean to drown out your words. Because he's listening. But more so to the hilt of your voice, and how it would sound much breathier, as you gazed up at him. One of his fantasies had you on your knees, teasingly licking at his cock, as your devious eyes held his. He had orgasmed extremely quickly, multiple times, when he found this imagine in his head. 

“So thats basically the first part,” you continued to explain, unaware and completely oblivious to Chris’s hand rubbing at himself on the other end of the line.  

He won’t do more. He can’t, this is just so wrong of him Just…relieve a hint of tension. You continued to speak, and your words began to sound like something he wished he could grab, as his hand tightened on his bulge, his rubbing growing messy. His breathing had grown heavier, but he covered it up by saying ‘yes’s and ‘no’s, answering your questions. 

“Sorry, I’m rambling. Did you have any questions?” You ask, feeling as if Chris wasn’t getting everything he needed out of your words. He had to spare a glance at his incomplete work, scanning to see if he’d written down any problems, trying to remember if he had any. Because the only problem he could think of right now is how his over-the-clothes rubbing was doing little to satisfy his need. 

His cock was now rock hard, it was torturous. His mind began to glaze over with lustful thought of you “I—I don’t think so.” He mutters out, his fingers reaching into the waistband of his sweats and briefs, pulling his cock, which was now leaking with drops of pre-cum and the tip was a bright rosy, red, much like his cheeks.

He imagined the way you would touch him. Would you be gentle and slow, or would you edge him and make sure he’s extremely overstimulated as you milk him dry. Chris’s breathing stutters as he strokes himself. The little hums you make when you think have begun to make his hips thrust up into his palm. His other hand had tightened around the sheet, praying that you can’t hear him jerking off to you. Chris becomes lost in your tone as his cock twitches. 

“Chris?” You slowly ask, making his hips jolt at the utterance of his name from your lips, but he tries to keep his voice of some composure. 

“Yeah?” He had to press his lips together after a needy whimper nearly falling. 

“Are you…okay?” 

Your question makes him halt, much to his cock’s dismay. “W-what?”

“You sound… i don’t know, out of breath?” You say, behind the line trying to think of why.

“Really, you think?” He hums with a small smirk on his face enjoying the uncertainty in your tone and how innocent you mind must have been.  You nod to yourself, but then you catch the smallest of sounds fall straight from Chris’s lips. You had to be mistaken, as it had almost sounded like one full of pleasure that could have only been as a result of one thing... 

Your mouth opened in shock as you realise. He’s out of breath because he’s…

“Chris.” You say again, hearing a stuttering whimper from him before he tries to cover it up by asking ‘yes?’ again.  

“What are you doing?” 

Chris curses himself because you sound suspicious. “I’m studying obviously. Being tutored s-so well... by you.” He says, really forcing down his cock’s wanting to just ask you to keep talking so he could reach his orgasm, attempting to stop himself from stuttering his words, but he just couldn’t help it. 

“You’re sure you���re good?” You asked unconvinced, as a small smirk rose to your lips.

“No. No, I’m all good, i swear.” He says, really forcing his words to sound normal, as he had slowly begun to stroke himself again, his cock angry. 

“Ah huh, yeah…okay,” you knew what you were going to do, this was going to be fun. “Did i tell you how good you looked today?”

Chris’s eyes opened, looking at his phone slightly trying to keep a steady pace of his raging cock but if you were going down this road of compliments, he probably wouldn’t be able to take it much longer.

“Uh, n-no,” he stutters pathetically, somehow unaware of the game you were playing. 

“Well, you did, your hair…wow. I could just run my hands through it! How do you always get it looking so soft?” You paused momentarily, hearing Chris’s surprised whimper. “Sorry thats kind of a goofy thing to say…sorry.” You were basically just teasing him now, the basic matters of the studying gone.

“I- no i don’t think its goofy. a-at all…” his words are broken up by that heaving panting.

“God. really? You’re so sweet chris…wow,” You hum, making Chris’s hips thrust up into his hand, his legs having widened as you spoke. 

“R-really?” His eyelids began to feel heavy again, wanted nothing more but to see the darkness and use it as a canvas to paint his dirty images of you in his mind. 

“Yeah, i mean you’re the literal sweetest” you hum lightly, “you always make sure i havea seat in class, you listen to me when i speak and when i help you i study, you defend me in-front of your friends! You’re so sweet! Such a sweet, good boy for me” you were practically grinning at this point.

Chris could have sworn that your words could have sent him spiralling over the edge.“I a-am?” He asked, almost to clarify that this was real, that you were actually saying this to him.

“Well of course, and you’re always so busy as well, yet you always make time for me in your busy schedule. You must be stressed a lot of the time. I could always help you…relax sometime, relieve some of your…tension.” You had lowered your voice now in order to have a more seductive tone to your voice now.

Chris chokes on a whimper as he places his hand over his mouth, still thinking you don’t know. “My tension…?”

“I mean, yeah… i could alway give you a massage, rub you down, you know I’ve been told I am very good at giving…massages.” It was becoming blatantly obvious what you were doing now but Chris must’ve been blinded and in a lustful haze because he still seemed to be completely oblivious to what you were doing. Continuously pumping his dick eagerly and chasing his release.

The thought of you sat on top of him, rubbing all down him in order to relax him was definitely doing the opposite effect and only working him up more. Fuck. He had almost come from the thought of you taking care of him. the tone you had dropped to makes his hand quicken as his hips had begun to grind into his palm.

“You’d do that for me?” Chris whined, only imaging what else you would do for him almost sent him over the edge.

“Of course, i would baby, you would tell me where it feels good before i drag my hands down your body…” Chris let out a pathetic whimper at not only the simple thought but at the nickname as well. Baby? Baby??! Oh, my lord he was going absolutely feral at this point, “however, through your clothes it mind be hard to properly get that tension out.” 

Chris moans through his teeth, as his hips pathetically thrust at your words. “No clothes?” 

“No clothes.” You confirm. “Would that be, okay? I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable— “

“Yes.” His answer was immediate, cutting you short. He coughs. “That would be fine.” 

You grin. “Good. Because that way I could really relieve some tension. I’d have to straddle you of course.” You pause to hear chris’s heavy breathing and the faint sound of his hand gliding along his cock. “You may even have to flip around, because I’ve heard that the most tension can be by your collarbones and neck.” 

Chris nearly orgasmed at the thought of you straddling him, as your hands wandered his body. “As in straddling..my front?” 

“Yeah, is that okay?” 

“Uh huh.” He hums, his cock twitching with a soon need to release. 

“I could give you that massage the next time we study.” You say, making chris’s breathing quicken at the possible reality of all that. “I could come over to yours.” 

At this point he couldn’t care how desperate he sounded. “Yes. Please, come anytime.” 

“Or maybe you should cum?” You ask, your innuendo strong, as pleasure began to rock through chris’s body. 

“W—what?” 

“Come to my place, i know yours is always super hectic.” You play it off, listening to the wet sounds his cock was making as you could hear how close he was to his orgasm. 

“Fuck…yeah that sounds good, i-if you’re happy then s-so am i…” he was no biting his own lip so hard he could’ve sworn he was drawing some blood. He now had his back so far arched up off of his bed and was practically fucking up into his own hand. 

“See, again, you are alway thinking…of me,” oh he was definitely thinking of you, thats for sure, “you are such a good boy.” And that did it. His orgasm wracked through him as quiet whimpers and moans left his lips his hips grinding into nothing. Wishing the air was you. He watched as the white strings of cum coated and stained his dark shirt. 

“Fuck” he let out a relieved groan, now not even hiding the action that he had just did. 

“Maybe next time we study i should just jerk you off instead,”

Chris’s eyes widened at what you had said, before realising how blatantly obvious what he was doing was. You giggled once again hearing Chris’s heavy breathes, pleased to know that it was you who had pushed him over the edge. 

“Fuck, you can do whatever you want to me,” Chris let out with a deep breathe. 

Oh, you certainly would…

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

A/n : thank you so much for reading, this is literally my 3rd time trying to post this because I keep making mistakes 😭😭I really hope you enjoy and if there are any more mistakes pls lmk

ily my angels 💞 (especially @gamermattsgf)

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x reader #smut #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x you

[slttygeto]

MORNING LOVE — GOJO SATORU

content warning: pwp, pussy whipped gojo is my favorite gojo, sex in the kitchen, very light spanking, dirty talk, hint of cnc.

word count: 0,6k

note: this is a follow up to this piece right here. i hope you enjoy it :)!

if there was anything you learned from dating satoru, it was the fact that he was all about touching you. whether it be a hand resting on your thigh, or his lips pressed to your cheek as he drills into you from behind--the man couldn’t get enough of you.

you tried to stop him, tried your best to tell him to wait at least until you were done with breakfast before touching you. but the man was on a mission the moment he saw you dancing in his shirt in the kitchen. and you dare ask him to wait?

“toru--the pancakes,” you cry out the last part, his big hand reaching over to fondle with your boobs. he was incredibly touchy, always all over you like you could escape at any moment (you obviously couldn’t with his massive weight on top of you). 

you feel a little guilty to be doing this in the kitchen and over your counter, but his cock was drilling into you so well. you didn’t know why you were so sensitive this morning, perhaps you were ovulating and so your body felt like putty the moment satoru put his hands on you. 

he didn’t even bother taking off your shirt, simply pushed it up and let out a ‘fuck’ at the sight of your ass. this made you push back on him, whining when he delivered a harsh smack to the skin.

“later baby--fuck, I promise.” he was out of breath, hands roughly grabbing your hips to keep you in place. he loved having this much control over you, to see you trying to run away from his cock. only for him to hold you in place and force you to take it, force delicious sounds out of your throat. 

he grins lazily when you try to look back at him and your eyes are glossed over, lips parted and face contorted in pleasure. you look like you’re trying to say something, but the pleasure consuming you wiped every coherent thought out of your head.

“oh baby, you’re so pretty,” he leans down and presses a kiss to the back of your ear, chuckling when your breath stuttered. you were always so weak, so easily breakable when he had his dick inside of you. 

“oh god--satoru!” you cry out when his hand travels down, rubbing at your clit all while his other hand lets go of your hip to press on your stomach. his pace is unforgiving, a string of curses leaves his mouth when he feels you clenching around him as you approach your orgasm.

“that’s it baby, come on, come on,” he hisses out, his chin resting on your shoulder to peek at your face. he especially loved how fucked out you looked when you coated his dick with your juices.

“that’s right, give it to me. all of it, I can take it. take all what your pussy gives me--shiit, you feel so good,” it’s his turn to whine, his forehead resting on your shoulder when you finally reach your orgasm. your pussy felt like heaven, it was a miracle that he held in for so long. 

his orgasm washes over him soon after yours, and you’re both left a heaving mess. satoru refuses to pull out even when you whine at him to do so, only presses a gentle kiss to your shoulder and hums.

“if I pull out, it will be a mess,”

“then what should we do?”

“the paper towels are right there, lemme grab some.”

“...you’re unbelievable.”

2023 © all works belong to slttygeto. do not repost my work anywhere else.

#moon's works #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo smut #jujutsu gojo #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen headers #jujutsu kaisen imagine

[witchwyfe]

karma is my boyfriend - rc

pairing - (non-canon) Rafe Cameron x female reader

précis - a lil princess treatment from rafe :)

content/warnings - mentions of alcohol/alcohol consumption, fluff,

word count - 673

"Rafe, Rafe!?" You're spinning around, looking for your boyfriend until suddenly you whirl around and bump into a broad chest.

"Hey!" You gasp, until you look up and see his face. "Oh! Hi baby!" You coo, reaching up to cup his cheeks. 

"Hi sweet girl." He smiles, running his thumb along your cheekbone. 

You greet him happily, leaning in to his touch. "Did you get my drink?" You wonder, suddenly remembering why he left you in the first place.

"Hmm, sure did." He nods, handing you an ice water rather than the vodka redbull you'd requested.

You don't seem to notice though, slipping the paper straw into your mouth and slurping it down happily.

"We gonna dance s'more?" You wonder, straw between your lips.

"We can't, baby," He says, smoothing a hand down the back of your head. "They're closing."

"Nooo!" You groan, throwing your head back.

"I know, I know," He soothes. "But we can go home and get some snacks and watch a show...?" He offers.

"Okay!" You're smiling once again, digging your fingers into his tee shirt.

"Finish your drink and we'll go home, kay?" 

You nod, bypassing the straw and tipping the rest of the water into your mouth, before handing your empty glass to Rafe.

You're not even that drunk, really just a little past tipsy but you're fine with letting Rafe handle everything and take care of you.

Suddenly his jacket is being draped over your shoulders, coupled with a soft kiss to the top of your head. 

"Thank you." You simper. You slide your arms into the sleeves and blink up at your boyfriend.

"Ready?"

"Ready."

You lead him out of the bar, arms shoved into the pockets of his jacket, while he has your little purse slung over his shoulder, your phone, his phone, and the keys all in one hand.

"How much farther?" You ask a few moments later, looking back at him.

"Not too much," He frowns looking out at the street. When the two of you arrived at the club, hours before, he'd had to park his car somewhat far due to the lack of space. "Your feet hurting, baby?"

You shrug a shoulder. "Yeah." You nod. "But it's just till the car then I'll take my shoes off."

"C'mere," He says, shoving both of your phones into his pocket.

"What?" You wonder, turning to give him a coy smile.

Your sweet boyfriend kneels down on the dirty sidewalk, taking your ankle into his hands so he can unbuckle your heel. You're flustered beyond words, heat rising on your cheeks while Rafe's rough palm softly works your foot out of your strappy shoe. 

"Stand on my foot babe, so I can take your other shoe off." He says, running his hand up your calf. 

Once both of your heels are dangling from his hand, he scoops you into his arms, bridal style.

"Are you sure, Rafe?" You wonder softly. "I feel bad, you don't--"

"You have nothing to feel bad about." He assures, lips at your temple. "Just let me take you to the car, okay gorgeous?"

"Okay." You hum happily, relaxing in his hold.

Your arms are sling around your neck and you have easy access to his neck if you strain a little--and you do--at least five times on the way to the car, so you can kiss his neck.

He pretends like he's not flustered by it, but you can see the rosy glow of his cheeks from the street lamps, the harsh light making him appear ethereal and you have to shut your eyes for a second to remember he's real.

You’re still in a fond trance when he uses one hand to open the car door and gently deposit you into the passenger seat. He buckles your seatbelt and tugs on it, before pressing a kiss to your temple. 

“Love you,” You croon, leaning back against the seat to look at him. 

“Love you so much more.” He promises. “C’mere angel, gimme a kiss.”

© witchwyfe 2024. absolutely no reposting, translating, or modifying, even with credit.

#mine #my work #my writing #witchwyfe #witchwyfe writing #rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron oneshot #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron fluff #outer banks fanfiction #cw alchohol mention

[lucidfairies]

money [a.a]

pairing: ceo!abby x secretary!reader

synopsis: when you finally land the job of your dreams, you had no idea what your boss would be like. and damn, no idea you conjured could've done her justice.

warnings: top!abby, bottom!reader, age gap (reader is in her 20s, abby is in her early 40s), cunnilingus (r/a receiving), strap (r!receiving), praise + degradation, mommy kink, dirty talk, manhandling, pet names (sweetheart, sweet girl, angel, baby, whore, slut)

word count: 3.3k

it wasn't everyday that you landed a job with one of the most well known law firms in washington. for now you were just a secretary, someone to sit outside of an office and take calls, but your hope was to work your way up to one of their lawyers.

you had little prior experience with being a secretary, but it was just enough to get you this gig. the building was large, and the office you were to assist was on one of the highest floors, naturally where the head of the firm was.

you knew her, abby anderson. incredibly talented lawyer who even won over a supreme court case. though you hadn't met her in person, you were exhilarated to meet her. she was who you dreamed to be, especially by her age.

it wasn't until your third day, when abby was finally in the office, when you got a glimpse of what working here would actually look like. abby showed up in a well pressed black suit, armani logo drilling into your eyes like a laser, making you feel all that underdressed.

"do I know you?" she asked when you knocked gently on her office door and went in. she truly didn't mean to be rude - her son had been sick for three days and she was feeling it now - but you didn't know that. you automatically assumed she was an asshole, and that threw you off.

you cleared your throat, meeting her eyes and immediately shifting them again. she was intimidating, almost scary. "I'm y/n. I'm your new assistant." she looked you up and down, gaze still burning your skin, and the corner of her mouth turned up to a smirk.

"great. I take my coffee black, nothing in it. there will be a card on your desk that you can charge it to every morning. get yourself something. I expect you to leave before I do, as I stay late. by any chance, do you babysit?" your eyes found hers as you finally looked up.

"I mean, I can. I used to when-" she cut you off, uninterested in anything except the yes. you noted that for later.

"I might need you to pick up my son from school every couple weeks. not often, and certainly not until I've run a background check on you." she wasn't hardly looking at you now, eyes flipping between her papers and computer. "did I miss anything?"

"no ma'am," you said, standing up and instinctively wiping off your skirt, though there was nothing there. suddenly you were back at your desk, waiting for calls and bookings to come in while trying to make sense of that interaction.

the next day you arrived late, but in your defense, the line at the coffee place was long and traffic was even longer, and now you weren't even sure that the coffee was hot. abby was there when you gently knocked on her door, allowing your entry with a low 'come in.

"I'm so sorry I'm late, there was really bad traffic and the line-"

"it's okay, sweet girl." your stomach flipped. yesterday, when your eyes knew nothing but the floor, you hadn't exactly taken in her appearance, but today. today.

today she was in a black turtleneck, sleeves right around the muscle in her arms that just made her look so, so good. her black slacks were tight at her hips with a belt, and they were hugging her legs so tight that you were sure the seam would rip.

her hair was pulled into a nice bun and she wore no makeup, not that she ever needed to. she had freckles, beautiful eyes. rings. she had rings, that she could put inside of you any day.

"I'll be on time tomorrow, miss." your gaze dropped again as you turned to leave her office. this was surely going to be nothing but torture for the following months.

two weeks later was the first time she asked you to stay late. you originally had plans, but the way your name dripped off of her tongue like honey made you immediately cancel them. she had asked you politely to pick up her son, and you even acquired her number from the ordeal.

dealing with kids was not your specialty, but abby's son was a delight. he talked all about his mom, some about his dad and it made you wonder if abby was single or not. she never wore a ring to your knowledge, not even on a necklace, and from your speculation she almost looked like a lesbian. maybe you were just dreaming about the end.

if you had taken your apartment and multiplied it by ten, it still wouldn't be half the size of abby's house. she truly did have money, if the armani suits and porsche didn't say that already.

an hour into your babysitting, which almost just felt like hanging out with a kid in a mansion, abby got home. she walked in, greeting you with the first real smile you had ever seen on her face. your brain malfunctioned when you gently placed her hand on your arm and pressed an innocent kiss onto your cheek.

you were blushing profusely, pupils blown, almost dizzy, all she did was kiss your cheek, a very normal way of greeting someone and you were fucked. abby didn't fail to see you run your fingers over the spot and look at them before quickly turning back towards the two of them.

abby lived for it. lived for the you drooled over everything she did, lived for the way that she was sure her fingers would look so, so good in your mouth... and she tried not to think about it. how could she, when her son was standing right next to her, trying to tell her about his day, and you. you just looked so innocent.

you were engulfed in her smell, the perfect balance of pine and amber and erotica. she smelled like five hundred dollar cologne right off the shelf of valentino. you wanted to smell like that, wanted to smell like that, wanted to wear her clothes and have everyone think that you were together.

"thanks for coming, sweetheart. I'll see you on monday." you looked at her with your brows knit, knowing you had work the following day, friday. "take the day off. you did something for me, and I'm repaying you. use my card and get something."

the amount of money she had to just throw around was so attractive to you. she was an independent woman who brought in millions every year and was letting some secretary she had known for three weeks let buy anything on a day off.

monday had arrived, and you had purchased nothing with abby's card, naturally. you weren't one to spend someone's money just because they had a lot of it, or because they told you to. she would've had to buy it for you to accept it, at that.

it was nearing eleven when abby called you into her office by your first name, instead of one of the many nicknames she always seems to use. "sit." she demanded as you stepped in, and you did so.

"is something wrong, ms. anderson?" she wasn't mad, but she was irritated. she told you to do something, told you to put yourself first and you didn't.

"I told you to treat yourself on friday," her gaze left her laptop and met your eyes. "why didn't you?" you blanked for a moment.

"I just.. I didn't feel right spending money that wasn't mine." she gave you a disapproving look, before getting up and coming around her desk to stand in front of you. in a matter of moments, one of her large hands was grabbing your jaw and forcing your head up to look at her.

she bent down slightly, lips grazing over yours, and you were sure she could feel how much your face heated up. "next time I tell you to do something, you're going to do it. understand, sweet girl?"

"I don't-" your pupils were blown and you were so desperate for her to press her lips just a bit closer, fill the gap and just let you have it.

"say 'yes abby'."

"y-yes abby." she let go of your face and went back to her desk, pretending to pay you little attention, but she was acutely aware of the way you pushed your thighs together and squirmed.

"you're dismissed. I expect to see a charge by the morning." you got up and hurried out, going straight to the bathroom. your face was burning up, and you could vaguely see an imprint from her hand.

you were meaninglessly circling the mall, trying to decide what to spend this newfound money on. obviously you wouldn't get something big and glamorous, no matter how much she seemingly wanted you to.

every time you walked, you seemed to pass victoria's secret. It seemed like it was calling you to buy something, and after that interaction with abby earlier, you decided that maybe you should treat yourself and went in.

you looked around for a while before finding a cute blue set, with embroidered, lacy flowers. it was nothing special, just transparent and high waisted, but it was speaking to you. suddenly you knew what you were wearing to work the next day.

- - -

you felt completely scandalous wearing a short little skirt over the lingerie in the morning, with a button down, where the first few buttons were unbuttoned. it was different from your usual dress pants and blouse, but it definitely did what you needed it to do.

work was as usual for the majority of the morning, and you were suddenly doubting why you wore what you did. there was no point, you were seriously delusional and seriously needed help. what kind of freak where's lingerie and completely inappropriate work clothes to work after one minor interaction with their boss?

that was until you got a simple email from ms. anderson herself, reading nothing but;

my office. now, please.

you cleared your throat, brushed out your hair slightly and adjusted your shirt before nonchalantly entering her office. you sat, observing the way she remained quiet for a moment before clearing her desk and turning her attention towards you.

“did you think I wouldn't realize?” she asked, cooly, with her eyebrows raised slightly. “I mean, props to you, you did as you were told. but I checked the card. I'm not the only one who can see the transactions on that card either, sweetheart.”

you were immediately red. who else could see them? “I didn't r-really think-”

“no, you didn't. I bet the men in my finances would love to see you dancing around in whatever you bought, wouldn't they, baby?” she was standing before you could think, hands resting on the handles of your chair. “why don't you show me, huh? I know you're wearing it.”

“I'm not- we can't do that here.” you looked around, though you knew no one would ever bother her and her office had no cameras. “we're at work, abigail.” there was a fast switch in her eyes, the way they went from cocky to wide, almost needy.

“fuck,” her head dropped into the crook of your neck before she ran her nose along your jaw. “say it again. please, baby.” her tone, the gentle pleading made any rational thoughts disappear from your mind. your hand wrapped around the collar of her button down and pulled her in gently.

“abigail,” you whispered, “I want this,” with that, her hands were everywhere, all at once. she was pulling you up, wrapping her large hands around your hips as she pulled you in for a harsh kiss. she was forcing you onto her desk, keeping her lips to yours as your bodies molded to each other.

she left your lips, finding a perfect spot on your neck and sucking. you gasped when you felt her hand undoing the buttons of your shirt and pulling it out of your skirt. you were grabbing her by her waist trying to pull her closer as she continued to mark up your neck and grab your tits.

when she finally pulled away from your neck, her eyes became wide looking at your lingerie clad tits. you slid your shirt the rest of the way off and tossed it, looking up at her as you began to unbutton hers. she didn't let you get very far before she was gently pushing you back until your back was against the cool wood of the desk.

she unclipped your bra and pulled it off, tongue immediately meeting your nipple. she bit it and you yelped, grabbing her shoulders. her large hand was messing with your other, tugging gently and kneading. "I love your tits so fucking much, baby.” she mumbled into your skin while she kissed down your stomach.

she left more hickies on your ribs, but you desperately needed her in one place. she was pulling your skirt down in seconds, pressing her tongue against you like it was nothing and watching you arch and moan. she was eating you out through your underwear for a minute, before you grabbed her hair and pulled her head up.

"take them off." she smirked, and her head tilted slightly to the side.

"who said you're in charge, sweet angel?" the nickname was new, but you fucking loved that she always called you sweet. you were something sweet to her, and that made your brain lag every time.

"abby please," you bucked into her, chasing friction. that's when you felt it; the large bulge in her slacks that you hadn't noticed earlier.

"feel that, baby? that's all for you." she pulled down your underwear slowly, tossing it in the pile of clothes. she spread your lips, watching slick connect and drip down your thighs. your face burned and you covered it, embarrassed. "uncover your face or I'll stop." you did as told.

she pulled a ponytail off her wrist and pulled her hair into a bun before pressing her tongue into your clit and licking a fat stripe. your head hit the desk with a thud, reveling at the feeling. she worked your clit, sucking it into her mouth and painting patterns with her tongue while she pressed a finger into entrance.

she used her free hand to hold you down by your stomach, since your squirming was messing her up. you whined when she added a second finger, not used to her thick fingers. "if you can't take my fingers, how am I supposed to fuck you with my strap?" you moaned at her words, loving the dirtiness of it.

she returned to your clit and you got loud when she curled her fingers up into the best spot, whimpering and groaning. she remembered the time when you pressed your fingers to your cheek in her house, and brought her unused hand to your mouth, tapping your chin lightly. "open your mouth and suck," she instructed, noticing your confused look.

you took two of her fingers in your mouth and sucked them, which shut you up. your stomach coiled, a warm feeling rushing between your legs before you could even mumble a word. it felt like you just kept coming, until she finally pulled away from your cunt.

"are you gonna give me another one, angel?" she was unclipped her belt while you caught your breath. "wanna fuck you all day." she pulled her pants and boxers down just barely enough to get her strap out. "flip over, ass up." you turned over, fucked out muscles aching.

she ran the tip of her strap between your folds, letting your wetness lube it up, then lined up with your hole. she pushed just the tip in, groaning at the way you took it so well and swallowed her in. "what if I just fucked you like this, huh?" you whined.

"please.. need more," you pushed your hips back slightly, trying to push her in further. she pulled out, simply pushing the tip back in.

"desperate fucking whore," she thrust in on the last word, bottoming out immediately. you whimpered, the strap stretching you far more than her fingers. "aw, baby, does that hurt?" she pulled out far and fucked into you again.

she started fucking you, deep and hard, until you were moaning and grabbing onto the desk, trying to stabilize yourself. one of her hands left your hips and grabbed your hair, wrapping it around her fist and tugging. "fuck.. abby- abs.. mommy,”

your eyes widened at the name, which came out unintentionally. she stopped momentarily before groaning and picking her pace back up rapidly. "call me that again." the tip of her strap kissed your cervix and bumped against your g-spot every time. her arm wrapped around your waist, flicking your clit.

"mommy.. m'gonna cum." you slurred, cock drunk and fucked out. she kept her pace, hardly changing anything except for the fact that she was louder now, finding the perfect angle to get the harness to hit her clit.

"just wait a second, my love,” you held it for as long as you could, but it became too much, and she was hitting just right. your mind went absolutely blank as your vision went white, a wave crashing over you as you came.

you could hear abby moaning, but you were still going, and unable to think of anything. “fuck baby, you make such a mess.” you relaxed your tense body and look over your shoulder at abby's soaked harness, pants, and desk.

“m’sorry.” she slowly pulled her strap out and unclipped it front her hips, letting you lay for another minute before she grabbed your hips and helped you flip over and sit up. “wanna make you cum, mommy.” you looked at her with doe eyes, watching her eyes darken.

“I already came, sweetheart. don't worry about me.” you brought your hand down to cup her cunt and she took in a sharp breath. you ground your palm against her clit and she groaned, shifting her stance from foot to foot.

you slid off the desk with wobbly legs and kneeled in front of her, pupils blown. “please mommy,” you ran your nails over her abs and under her boxer strap lightly, making her muscles tense.

“such a slut, aren't you? want mommy to fuck your face?” you nodded, pulling her boxers down to her ankles. her blonde bush matched her hair, and you noticed her happy trail that you hadn't earlier. “stick out your tongue, baby, be a good girl.”

you stuck your tongue out flat, not even getting a chance to lick before she was pressing her cunt to your mouth. she fucked herself on your face, gripping your hair tight and grinding fast. you gently pushed her against the desk, lifting one of her legs to your shoulder and leaving the other one down.

she must have loved the new angle, because she was moaning and grunting more than you had ever heard her. her clit was twitching and puffy, wet from your spit and her slick. she let out an involuntary whimper, and it was like music to your ears. “gonna c-cum on your f-fucking face, angel.”

her legs shook as she came, ans you spent the following moments licking all of it up. you pulled away and stood up, still shaky. she pulled her boxers and slacks up, moving towards the pile of clothes and handing you what was yours. “do you wanna get dinner tonight?” she stopped what she was doing to button up your shirt and zip your skirt.

“yeah, that's great.” she smiled, kissing you softly.

“you can go home if you want to clean up. I can take my own calls for a few minutes.” it was your turn to smile, grateful to get out of your uncomfortable, wet clothes.

“I'll see you tonight?” you asked, looking over your shoulder once you got to the door.

“pick you up at seven.”

a/n: part two? 🤭

tag list: @shewantstoknow @baumbii @zombholic

#abby anderson #tlou #tlou2 #abby smut #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x reader #abby x reader #tlou modern au #lawyer #ceo #ceo au #maya writes

[sooniebby]

ఌ 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

꧁ 𝙎𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙪 𝙭 𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 ꧂

w.c. › 3.8k

Plot › you end up winning a call to a camboy/sex worker, you watch a lot!! Though it’s a bit embarrassing learning you’re one of the few men in his usual audience. Based off this.

Warnings › gojo a bit cocky sometimes—this takes place in a normal world. Reader is 19, gojo is 25. Some… straight stuff mentioned cuz gojo fucks a girl during his streams, bi gojo agenda!!

Kinks › praise, size kink, (attempts at) dirty talk…

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

: ̗̀➛

𝘾𝙤𝙣𝙜𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙨 𝙤𝙣 𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜

𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙫𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙤 𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝

𝗦𝗶𝘅𝗲𝘆𝗲!

↳ ᴄʟɪᴄᴋ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇ

: ̗̀➛

No way. You just gasped in your coffee shop, literally as your coworker was calling for you to serve a cake to someone.

You were never a lucky person. Most and every thing you ever entered in a prize to win something, being money or an item, you never won. Never, not once. You had assumed you just was an unlucky guy in those type of things.

So when you applied for the giveaway for the chat, you did it just cause.

And you won!

You fucking won.

“(Name) if you don’t hurry up and serve this poor lady her cake!” Your coworker, Nobara screamed.

You rushed out with the cake and quickly gave the girl it, ignoring the glare she gave you for being so rushed. That didn’t matter! You had to tell Nobara. You practically sprinted to her and dragged her to the employee lounge.

“What is your problem?” She asked, pulling her arm away from your tight grip. “It’s like you were trying to rip my arm off…”

“Look, look!” You shoved your phone in her face, earning a tight glare as she snatched it out of your hands. Her eyes glanced over the screen as she mumbled to herself, reading the message. It took about thirty seconds before she seemed to understand what the fuck she was reading.

“Seriously? You got a free call with your favorite pornstar?” She placed your phone on the countertop and shuffled over to the fridge.

“You don’t understand! I hardly ever win giveaways!”

Nobara glanced back at you. “Okay, same here. Are you alright, (Name)? Are the toys not enough?” She asked with a fake sense of pity.

You glared at her. “The toys are just fine!”

“Sure, sure. Well, what do you get from the win?”

“Uh, a free thirty minute private chat.”

“She’s also a camgirl?”

“No… it’s a camboy.”

Nobara blinked. “Oh. So it’s a gay camboy.”

“Also.. no… he’s only fucked women on the videos he posted on Twitter..”

Nobara sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “Let’s hope he’s not going to be upset a dude just won his giveaway.”

You panicked slightly, “wait, you think he’ll be upset?”

“Maybe not. But if I were you, I’d make sure to not show my face on camera or speak on the mic.” She said, patting you on the back before leaving the lounge.

Any sort of happiness basically dwindled. She was right. You didn’t know this guy and while realistically, he can’t do anything to hurt you… He could end up getting angry and disgusted you won his call when the majority of his fan base has always been women.

Reaching over, you grabbed your phone and looked at the email, wondering if it’d be worth it. Just as you were about to email back that you couldn’t do it—you got a text message on your Twitter.

𝙎𝙞𝙭𝙚𝙮𝙚 𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖 𝙢𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙖𝙜𝙚 :

↳ Did you get the email?

You fainted.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

“You boys are so overdramatic.”

You can hear Nobara judging you. You feel the soft winds of someone fanning you, your head resting gently on their legs. With hesitance, you open your eyes, the harsh fluorescent lights blinding you.

Oh, it’s just Inumaki and Megumi.

Inumaki was the one holding your head on his lap while Megumi lazily fanned you with a makeshift paper fan. Megumi rolled his eyes once he noticed you were awake, moving to get up from the floor.

“Good?” Megumi asked, holding his hand out as he helped you get up.

‘We found you on the floor,’ Inumaki signed, getting up as well. ‘What happened?’

You pursed your lips, unsure if you wanted to tell them that you got shocked that a pornstar you’ve been following for over a year now messaged you. Nobara was heard stifling with laughter in the corner.

You quickly, and messily, signed that you were fine back to Inumaki. “Uh, just felt lightheaded. Y’know how the AC isn’t working well anymore.”

“Like those toys.” Nobara suddenly said.

‘Toys?’ Inumaki signed.

“You know what I mean, that emo boy of yours must use them too,” she said, ignoring the sudden blush on Inumkai’s face. Megumi groaned and moved to get his apron to begin his shift.

“Shut it, Nobara.” You whispered, glaring at her. She simply shrugged, smirking gleefully at the embarrassment she was bringing to you. You slipped out of your apron and placed it back, grabbing your bag as you began to clock out.

Inumaki and Megumi usually took over once you and Nobara were finished.

As you and Nobara left the cafe, she grinned mischievously at you. You looked straight ahead, not wanting to entertain her teasing.

“So, it couldn’t have been the email that you made you pass out like that. What was it?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullcrap!”

With a swiftness, your phone in your back pocket was gone. She easily dodged you as she began checking your phone, trying to see what had caused your fainting spell. Once she checked your notifications, she barked out a laugh.

“Oh he practically wants you! ‘Did you get the email?’ So desperate already,” she snickered, beginning to type something on your phone.

“Nobara?!”

After hitting send, she pushed your phone to your face, showing what she had just sent him.

𝙢𝙤𝙤𝙣𝙞𝙚𝙗𝙪𝙣𝙣𝙞𝙚

↳ yes!!! <333

↳ Sorry, I was just so shocked I won!!!

What time are you thinking about?

“Mooniebunnie? What type of username…”

“I made it when I was like fourteen! Don’t judge.”

“Jeez, you’ve been on Twitter that long?”

“Nobara!!”

“Oh he responded.”

“Hah?!”

𝙎𝙞𝙭𝙚𝙮𝙚

↳ took you long enough.

↳ Saturday, 9 pm. I’ll only wait 5 minutes

↳ after the 30 minutes, you’re paying.

“Dick. The fucks his problem?”

“What’d he say?”

“You’d think he’s the one taking the dick up his ass.”

“Nobara..!”

“What? You can’t tell me this doesn’t come across as rude?”

She began typing for you again.

𝙢𝙤𝙤𝙣𝙞𝙚𝙗𝙪𝙣𝙣𝙞𝙚

↳ just don’t disappoint me, 4 inch

↳ kisses <3

“Nobara?! What the hell?!”

“Hey, he started it. Anyway, your date is in two days. Good thing you don’t have a roommate anymore.”

You glared at her as she handed you back your phone. He didn’t seem to text back after that—only having a note that he certainly did read Nobara’s text. But to him, it was your text.

Gosh, you really didn’t want him to hate you.

But Nobara was right, he did seem a bit rude over text. Maybe he just texts a bit harsh but in person is nice.

Though it honestly felt you were creating excuses in your head at this point.

After splitting ways, you made it home to your small apartment. It was comfortable enough so you didn’t complain. Especially since it was in a good area. Nobara and her roommate, Maki, weren’t so lucky in the area they lived in.

Though it seemed like the burglaries that were happening there had finally slowed down.

Decorated in second hand items and anything you stole from your ex boyfriend and mother, your apartment was homey enough. The good thing was that you got an amazing view of the sunset in your room every afternoon.

The kitchen, dining, and living room was essentially just one full room. You had a foldable table to bring out whenever you ate dinner. Your tv was taken from your ex boyfriend, which was why it was so brand new compared to everything else.

You only have two other rooms. The master bedroom with an attached bathroom, and a small, small bedroom. You practically just made it an extra closet space because it was just too cramped to be in there for long period of times.

Especially with the fact it only had a small tiny square window all the way close to the ceiling.

It was after 8 p.m. when you plopped down onto your bed, finishing your daily home tasks. Washing the dishes, warming up dinner, watching a BL drama while crying in loneliness, and now—masturbation time.

You scrolled your phone, wondering if you should wank it out to some random twitter videos or go to the cam website.

Just as you were about to pull up your list of comfort gay videos, a notification rang on your phone.

𝙎𝙞𝙭𝙚𝙮𝙚 𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙙 ➤ ❝a creamy fill❞

Your fingers moved lightning speed. A bit embarrassing, really. Slipping off your boxers, you reached over and grabbed your lube, squirting a good amount on your fingers.

Despite him constantly fucking girls—you always watched. Something about him was captivating, even though you never saw his face. The girls face was almost always shown. But like always, the comments are filled with girls saying they love him.

The video started out with the girl in his lap, withering as his fingers spread her pussy open, his other hand resting comfortably on her throat. The only sliver of emotion you could see from him, was the small angle of his lips in frame.

Like always, he was smirking.

You never really enjoyed the beginning of his videos, since it focused heavily on getting the girl to cum from oral sex. Which was good for the girls—but not for you.

So, you usually focused on getting yourself ready for your dildo.

It was one you bought on a whim. But you had never meant for it to be so large, a length of seven, more so eight, inches. You would’ve thrown the thing out if it wasn’t the only dildo you had.

And there was no way you were going to go back to that sex store and get a new one.

You tuned them out for a few minutes, focusing on stretching yourself. It was always tedious, wishing it was someone else doing it for you. Just as you felt ready enough for your dildo, you finally glanced back at your phone.

The girl was now screaming, in pleasure, as he slammed his hips against her ass. It harsh and unforgiving—leaving the girl no chance to stay still. They were in a doggy style position, her face right up to the camera as she mewled and cried.

His grip was on her waist, pulling her back whenever she tried to pull away a bit in a way to slow it down.

“That’s a good girl.”

Boner gone.

You groaned. You loved hearing his voice, he sounded hot. But you hated it whenever he used that fucking word. Any type of “girl” or even more feminine terms always made you lose your boner.

There was nothing else you could really do at that point.

That’s why you mainly watched his solo streams.

With a huff, you placed your dildo back in its drawer and turned off your phone just as the girl reached her climax.

This guy was obviously straight…

You were really wondering if it’d be worth it.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

“Ready for your big day, (Name)?”

‘What big day?’

You quickly glared at Nobara, hoping she wouldn’t tell Inumaki anything. Inumaki looked a bit confused—mostly in why you were so angry.

Isn’t today supposed to be special?

“Oh, nothing. It’s just… Saturday, who doesn’t love a Saturday?”

Inumaki raised an eyebrow. ‘It’s a normal Saturday.’

“Mhm, not for our (L.Name) (Name) here.” She winked, obviously enjoying the flushed look on your face.

The entire shift was spent with Nobara making innuendos and Inumaki looking confused by the minute. It wasn’t until your shift was over, and Megumi and Itadori came, that Nobara seemed to just blurt it out to Inumaki.

“He won a call with his favorite pornstar!”

‘You have a favorite pornstar..?’

“Nobara!” You screamed, slapping your hand against her lips as she stared at you in triumph.

Looking back at Inumaki who didn’t seem to be judging you, just a bit perplexed. Which isn’t shocking. He has a fucking boyfriend—you doubted he needed to watch pornstars religiously to get his socks off.

You shrieked as Nobara licked your hand, forcing you to pull away and quickly wipe them off on your pants.

“Yeah! That’s what I said! Who has a favorite pornstar?!”

“Shut it!!”

Inumaki gave you a shrug, ‘no need to be embarrassed. We all have weird habits.’

Somehow that felt less comforting.

You signed back a thanks to Inumaki before turning your anger to Nobara. She willfully began whistling as she walked down the street, not paying you any mind.

In all honesty, you just hoped the call wouldn’t end up with you in tears.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

𝙎𝙞𝙭𝙚𝙮𝙚

↳ here’s the link.

↳ join in twenty minutes

Dick.

Nobara was right. With a huff, you set your busted laptop on the bed in front of you. It was a miracle this laptop could even come to life. As you were deep in thought, wondering if you were feeling brave enough to really join, you heard the sound of a ping.

It took a moment, but then you accepted the link, joining a private call with Sixeye.

It was his usual set up for his live streams. The sight of a wall decorated with bookshelves. You always just assumed it was an office room he had. He was dressed in a compression shirt and grey sweatpants.

Huh, he usually dressed nice for his cams because his fan girls loved seeing him in suits.

Something something daddy issues.

Guess you weren’t special enough for that.

“Guess you aren’t putting on your camera?”

You quickly typed a simple no. No way in hell were you showing this guy your face—no matter how many times you had cummed to his videos. A simple chuckle was heard. His camera was pointed solely at his chest and bottom half, his face no where in sight.

Which was natural, the most he ever showed was his lips.

Girls just went wild for a cool smirk or something.

“No requests? Usually you girls are quick to give me a whole script.” His laugh filled the room.

↳ Just act natural

You type, hoping that was enough to make him get straight into it. He was quiet for a moment, as if he was reading your text. It seemed he took your words to heart as he pulled down his sweatpants and his cock plopped out, resting against his stomach.

“Alright, just want a quick fap then.”

He reached down and rubbed his tip, teasing the slit as he slowly began jacking himself off. His cock was large, maybe around seven inches? It was similar to your dildo. His hands were big too. Gosh, everything about him was big.

He was definitely the one who helped you figure out your size kink.

The only sound by now was his soft grunts and his hand jerking off his cock. You slipped off your boxers and easily slipped in three fingers inside of yourself, having stretched it out a bit earlier. Now, you were just trying to get yourself excited.

You reached down to your laptop, moving it a bit further so you could get comfortable on the bed with more leg room. Your fingers rubbed against your prostate, teasing it just the way you wanted.

Your moans were always on the more high pitched side, almost sounding similar to a girl when you reached your orgasm. So it was something you were a bit self conscious of. But being alone in your own home, you didn’t hold back.

Rubbing against your prostate, your toes curled as you whimpered and bucked into your own hand. You tried to push back any feeling of disappointment that it wasn’t someone else making you feel this way.

“Changed your…mind, baby?”

“Ngh..?”

You opened your eyes and glanced back down at your laptop.

Oh god.

Your fucking mic was on!!!!

You screamed out, quickly clasping your mouth shut as you stared at the screen in horror. He heard you. He heard every little gasp and whimper you had made. How long had he heard you?

Why didn’t he fucking say anything?

“Screamer, huh? Noted.”

He teased. Even without seeing his face, you knew he was smirking.

“You….why didn’t you tell me?” You muttered, glaring at the screen.

But he didn’t answer. He seemed quiet for a moment. You watched as his hand stuttered on his cock. What? Did your voice sound that terrible?

“Speak.”

“Wha..?” You whispered, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

“Speak now. Loud and clear.”

You hated how authoritative he sounded. It felt like you couldn’t just no respond to his command.

“Uhm… why didn’t you tell me…?” You spoke louder, allowing your mic to pick up your voice this time. You thought maybe he just didn’t hear you.

“Shit. You’re a guy?”

With a brave face, you huffed. “Judging me?”

“No. Fucking finally.”

You felt yourself blush. He was… excited? He began stroking his cock again but this time, with more vulgarity. It was like he was actually turned on by you. You felt your own cock twitch.

Someone… interested… in you?

You grabbed your dildo that rested beside you on the bed, rubbing it against your hole. Any sort of self consciousness you felt with your moaning was thrown out the window as you didn’t hold anything back. Fuck it if you regretted it later.

Right now, you’re going to enjoy it.

As your dildo began stretching you full, you glanced at the button that would turn your camera on. This was a one time thing…

He’d never see you again…

Fuck it.

“Well aren’t you adorable..? Fuck, how big is it?”

“Seven… inches.” You whispered, feeling embarrassed about showing yourself. Your sweating body, flushed face, watery eyes, and your cock leaking on your tummy. You were glad you didn’t see his face…

So you didn’t have to know if he actually found you cute.

“Always the cute ones.” His laugh sounded strained, a soft huff following it as he continued teasing his tip. “Like it big, huh? Stretching you until you can’t take it anymore.”

“Didn’t.. mean to… get it so big.” You moaned, slowly teasing the dildo inside. Your camera was angled right between your legs, showing him the entire picture of the dildo slowly inching inside your puckered hole.

You arched your back, gasping once it finally reached its hilt, stuffing you full.

“Keep looking at the camera.”

You hadn’t even noticed you couldn’t be seen anymore. Moving around a bit, your face finally showed back on the camera. And you got a good sight of just how fucked out you looked just from a damn dildo.

“Good boy.” He whispered. “Y’know… I always put on a show for you guys—it’s time you do the same, hm?”

If you weren’t already itching for an orgasm, you would’ve ended the call immediately out of embarrassment. But you couldn’t back down now.

So, you moved to rest against your headboard, bringing in your laptop to get a good view of your face and ass. Tightening your grip on your dildo, you began thrusting it in and out, keeping a fast pace.

Your hips moved against the pace, your thoughts filled with the desire of a real cock fucking you. His hand gripping your waist, bouncing you on his cock like a toy just for his pleasure. But you had to deal with this pisspoor dildo.

The sound of squelching, your moans, and his grunts filled the room. You were so close, wishing to moan his name but no way in hell were you going to moan his fucking username.

“W…wan..na…moan..name..” you barely sputtered out, your moans betraying you whenever you tried to speak a full sentence. A cry left your throat when the dildo brushed against your prostate. You quickly made sure to continuously hit that area, your moans reaching higher in pitch.

Your orgasm was close.

You suddenly heard him grunt loudly. When you glanced at the camera, you saw his grip tighten as cum spurted onto his shirt. Did your moans…?

Not wanting to feel any misplaced confidence, you pushed the thought away. No way did your moans make him cum.

The sound of shuffling caught your attention as you saw him reach for his camera.

And then—

The camera was on his fucking face.

His lips turned up into a smirk, his eyes staring straight into yours. Blue eyes and white hair. It looked soft even though the camera.

You came.

You fucking came.

Man, maybe those girls were right about smirks being sexy…

Your toes curled as you arched your back, gripping the bedsheets as your cock came all over your stomach. The only sound left was the sound of your heavy breathing as you tried to calm down—having never orgasmed that intensely before.

“Did you… cum from seeing my face?”

He sounded so fucking cocky.

“Bye!” You yelled, slamming your laptop shut.

You totally did.

You sat in your room for about two minutes before screaming in embarrassment. No way in hell could you ever watch his streams again!!! You came!! You came from seeing his face!!

God….

That was embarrassing…

At least you would never interact with him again.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

“No way! From his face?!”

Nobara screamed laughing, her cackling echoing in the empty cafe. You could only focus on putting the cakes on display, trying to ignore the embarrassment in your heart.

“Gosh! Megumi! You heard about—”

“Don’t bring me into this.” He answered bluntly.

It had been a few days now since the… incident. You had blocked Sixeye’s account and haven’t watched any of his streams or videos ever since. It was just too embarrassing to watch them without thinking on how you came just from seeing his face.

But you kept thinking, why did he show his face?

It wasn’t like you were anything special. As the three of you continued getting the cafe ready for opening, Nobara continued making fun of you at any given chance. Megumi seemed to be in his own mind.

You had went to the back to grab some cups for the lattes and when you came back to the front, Megumi and Nobara were already speaking to some guy. He looked pretty tall, practically towering over Nobara.

But his back was facing you so you didn’t know who it was.

“Why are you even here?” Megumi asked, glaring at the stranger.

“Oh! Aren’t you Megumi’s friend?” Nobara questioned.

“Don’t insult me like that,” Megumi rolled his eyes before grunting as the stranger wrapped his arm around his neck.

“Aah~ Megumi~~ don’t be like that! I heard the cakes here were good. Can’t I try them??? Hm~?” The stranger teased, laughing slightly.

“Get off, you’re not getting a discount.”

“I didn’t say I wanted one… but now that you mentioned it~”

Nobara laughed, “no wonder you called him a blue eyed freak! He’s so annoying.”

“Megumi?!”

Megumi shrugged. “I’ve called you worse in my head. (Name), take Gojo’s order before I kick him out.”

Gojo huffed before finally turning over to face you. Your eyes widened once you finally got a good look of him. It…

Sixeye?!

The cup you were holding were slipping out of your hands as Gojo tilted his head, eyes narrowing at your face before widening in recognition. A grin appeared on his lips.

“Today’s my lucky day, huh?”

It definitely wasn’t yours.

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

Oop? Yall want a part 2? It’s so hard writing phone/facetime sex… I praise those who write it constantly lmao

Tag list: @chill-guy-but-cooler @tomoeroi @remdayz @tehyunnie @flurrina @rhetorical-conscience @kiiyoooo @iwishtobeacrow @love-kha1 @star-3214 @smellwell @ofclyde @the-ultimate-librarian @teyvat-writer

#bottom male reader #x male reader #uke male reader #mlm ns/fw #gojo x male reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #sub male reader

[roosterforme]

Wrong Number | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley was planning on a quiet night at home with a beer and a basketball game on TV. When he receives a text from a wrong number, he's left looking at a beautiful photo of you. Now he just needs to persuade you to ditch the guy you meant to text and focus on him instead.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, slight dirty talk, Bradley touching himself

Length: 4700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written for Rocktober. Check out my masterlist for more. Banner made by @thedroneranger

Bradley had endured such a long week at work, all he wanted to do was change out of his uniform, grab a beer from his fridge and lounge around on the couch in his underwear without a responsibility in sight. Nobody should have to work until ten on a Friday night, but it had taken him that long to sort through the massive stack of paperwork from Admiral Simpson. At least now he had nothing planned for the rest of his evening.

His apartment was too hot, and the cold bottle of beer pressed to his bare thigh as he reached for the TV remote left some droplets of condensation. It felt good. He took another sip as his phone vibrated next to him. With a soft grunt, he abandoned the remote in favor of the phone and unlocked it with his pass code.

There was a new text from an unknown number. And there was a photo attached. He grimaced, afraid of what he was going to find if he tapped on it. He read the phone number twice, but it didn't sound familiar beyond the San Diego area code. He let his head tip back as he recalled the time he pissed Nat off and she gave his phone number to a random sailor in retaliation. Bradley really hoped he wasn't going to have to kindly ask someone to stop sending him dick pics like last time. 

Before he lost the nerve, he tapped on the message, and his screen was suddenly filled with a photo of a woman who looked just a few years younger than him. And she was hot. He paused with his beer bottle halfway to his lips before letting it settle back down to his thigh. 

Hey, Alan. It's me. So now you have my phone number, too.

Bradley didn't know who the hell Alan was, but he wasn't mad about the mix-up. This photo was something else. It almost looked like it was taken in the bathroom at the Hard Deck. The lighting was bad, and there was a paper towel dispenser in the background, but whoever you were.... damn, you were stunning. All pretty features and smiling like you had a secret. 

It took him a moment to stop staring at the photo and return to the previous screen and your message. He was going to have to tell you that he wasn't Alan and that you had the wrong number, but he just sat there and tapped his phone case instead. He didn't even like the name Alan, but damn if he didn't want to be Alan right now. That lucky bastard had you interested in him. 

Bradley was wondering how the mix-up happened in the first place as he drafted up a text to you. Only some sort of fucking idiot wouldn't check and double check that he gave you the right number. "Amateurs," he mumbled as he typed with a little smirk on his face.

Hey, sorry to inform you, but this actually isn't Alan. However, I wouldn't mind one bit if you kept sending me the photos that are meant for him.

He hit send and tossed his phone aside, assuming you'd just block him and move on with your night. He brought his beer bottle back to his lips and enjoyed the way the drink helped cool him down while he contemplated taking a shower, but when he reached for the remote again, his phone vibrated. 

There was another message from the same number. Intrigued, Bradley unlocked his phone again, and he was pleased to see another text and another photo.

Hi, Not-Alan. Sorry about that! I hope you have a great night.

This photo was similar to the first one, except that you were flipping him the peace sign and winking which made Bradley laugh. You seemed fun, even through this limited interaction. And he was sure that was the ladies' bathroom at the Hard Deck, which pissed him off, because he got out of work so late he didn't feel like going out tonight. Maybe if he had been there, you wouldn't have been talking to Alan in the first place.

"Damn it." He was intrigued. He wanted to know more about this.

My night is substantially better now that I have two photos of you. So where did Alan get off to anyway? And why is he trying to steal my phone number?

This time Bradley was dying for another response. But it didn't come. He stared at his phone for a solid minute before returning to his beer and downing the rest of the bottle. Still nothing. He stood and made his way into the kitchen, tossing his empty into the recycling bin before getting another one from the fridge and eyeing up the food situation. He should probably eat something, but he swore he heard his phone vibrating. When he looked over to the couch, the screen was lit up. 

He slammed the fridge door and opened the new bottle before heading back to his phone. There was no photo this time, but there was a new message.

I actually lost Alan in the crowd, so really, the man could be just about anywhere. And I don't think he was trying to steal your number at all, Not-Alan. He wrote it on my palm, and it smeared before I could add it to my phone.

"Okay," Bradley said out loud. "Now we're getting somewhere." He sat down on the couch with his beer on the coffee table and started a new message. 

Alan should learn how to write neater in the future, because he's missing out here. You have to double check that someone who looks like you got the number right. Everyone knows that.

Bradley decided that he was going to have no shame for the night. Not as long as you kept writing back to him. He was contemplating how to save your number in his phone when another selfie with a message came through. You were out by the bar at the Hard Deck with a smile on your face, and you were holding up your palm complete with Bradley's smeared phone number.

Does this number look familiar, Not-Alan? Still no actual Alan in sight, by the way. 

Bradley supposed that the 7 could have been mistaken for a 1. Or maybe Alan's phone number had a 5 that got smeared into a 6. It didn't really matter. Bradley was going to shoot his shot and hope Alan didn't resurface. 

Good, Alan can just stay lost. What's your name, pretty girl?

Then he saved your number as Pretty Girl, and this time he did manage to turn the TV on while he waited with his phone in his hand. He muted the Clippers game and picked up his beer before promptly setting it back down again.

Pretty Girl: Not so fast, Not-Alan. You tell me your name first. And how old you are. And your blood type and the last four of your social security number. 

Bradley laughed and started typing. He realized he hadn't stopped smiling for the last twenty minutes as he hit send.

I'm Bradley. I'm 34. O positive. 2305.

On a regular night, the basketball game would have held his attention, but tonight he couldn't stop looking at his phone. "Come on, Pretty Girl," he muttered, running his beer bottle along his thigh before taking a sip. 

Pretty Girl: Okay, Bradley. You have my attention. Send me a selfie exactly where you are, and I'll think about telling you my name. No changing into something nicer. No fixing your hair. Just a selfie. Right now.

Bradley looked down at himself in just his black boxer briefs and mumbled, "If you say so." When he set his phone camera to selfie mode, he looked at the screen and realized his hair still looked pretty decent from work. So he went ahead and took a picture where he was wearing a bit of a skeptical smirk, and he sent it before he could think twice. 

And now his heart was beating a little faster. This was probably where you'd stop responding. Oh hell, at least he went for it, but a few minutes later, you still hadn't sent anything back to him. Maybe he could have tried to hide the scars on his neck and cheek, but what was the point? Clearly you were sending him actual selfies you'd taken tonight, and he did exactly what you'd told him to. Then his phone vibrated.

Pretty Girl: Do you really expect me to believe that you're not just googling "hot shirtless guy with a mustache", downloading a photo, and trying to pass it off as yourself?

He tipped his head back and laughed. There was just something about you. He didn't even know your name or what your voice sounded like, but he could already tell he was going to like both of those things. If you ever told him or let him hear you.

That's really me. Promise. Will you tell me your name now? Or do I have to keep calling you Pretty Girl?

He was wondering if you were still at the bar, surrounded by guys like Alan who would love to take you home while you were chatting with him. And he hoped the next text would contain your name. But you just ignored him when you wrote back a few minutes later. 

Pretty Girl: Prove you're not just sending some photos of a random hot dude. Go stand by your open refrigerator and take a selfie. Then take another one with your toothbrush. 

"She's a handful," Bradley murmured as he stood with a smile. He carried his beer into the kitchen, opened his refrigerator and snapped a selfie where the fridge light somehow accentuated his features nicely. Then he left his beer on the counter while he went into his bathroom. He was actively trying not to smile for this one where he had his red toothbrush hanging out of the side of his mouth, but he was on the verge of laughing at how ridiculous his night turned out to be. 

He typed up a message and attached both photos and then sent them off while he finished his beer at the kitchen counter, Clippers game forgotten. 

What is this, Pretty Girl? A hostage negotiation? I already told you, that's really me.

It didn't take too long for you to respond this time, and Bradley wasn't even letting his screen dim long enough to need to unlock it now.

Pretty Girl: Are you naked in these photos?

"Jesus," he muttered. Of course he wasn't. Did you want him to be? Shit, he needed to stop thinking about that.

No! I'm wearing underwear. You told me not to get changed or anything.

He felt flushed and too warm as he set his phone down on the counter and went to open some windows. Then he walked a few laps around his apartment in an effort to chill the fuck out. He wasn't even with you, and you were under his skin. 

When he returned to his phone, there was a selfie and a message waiting for him. In the photo, you were sipping a drink, and the way the straw pressed to your perfect lips had him practically moaning. 

Pretty Girl: My friend thinks there's something wrong with me. I'm at a Navy bar in San Diego at the moment. There are hot guys galore, and yet I'm glued to my phone. 

"Shit, shit, shit." Bradley thought about getting dressed and heading out to the bar himself. Then maybe he could hear you tell him your name in person right before he pulled the straw away from your mouth and kissed you.

How much longer are you going to be at the Hard Deck, Pretty Girl?

Bradley started heading for his bedroom closet when his phone vibrated in his hand.

Pretty Girl: How do you know I'm at the Hard Deck? Do I need to smash my phone to bits and go into hiding?

"Fuck," he grunted, typing so quickly he had to go back and fix several spelling errors before he could send it. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable, so he paused before getting any clothing out of his closet.

Because I'm in the Navy, and I live in San Diego. And I recognized the inside of the bathroom from the first photo you sent me. I swear I'm not creepy. You can ask Penny, the bartender and owner of that fine establishment. I spend enough time there. Show her my photo.

Bradley collapsed onto his bed with his forearm over his eyes and his phone clutched to his chest. He didn't have to check the time to know it had been a while since he texted you. He also didn't have to look at his phone to know it was after midnight now and that you and he had been chatting for almost two hours. Bradley jolted when the phone vibrated against his chest.

Pretty Girl: Okay. Alright. Penny is a sweetheart, and your story checks out. Also, she told me your call sign and then told me to have you verify what it is for my own peace of mind. So what is it, Bradley? And how do you know what the ladies' restroom here looks like?

Oh, he was going to owe Penny big time. He typed away as he lay sprawled out on his bed.

My call sign is Rooster. And as for your bathroom question.... are you really going to make me answer that?

Bradley closed his eyes and thought about the girl who had taken him into the bathroom with her last year. He was pretty sure she had brown hair, but other than that, he couldn't really recall. But he did remember looking at that paper towel holder on the wall and the framed photo of an F/A-14 that was hanging over it while he was in there with her. 

He wouldn't mind taking a trip there with you, that was for sure. Or maybe you and he could skip the scandalous bar hookup and just go right to dinner or a movie. For some reason, he thought he might actually prefer that.

Pretty Girl: Be back soon. I'm getting a ride home.

Bradley mused out loud, "It better not be from Alan." Shit, he could have offered to go pick you up and make sure you got home safely. He'd only had those two beers all night, and now he was picturing some faceless guy named Alan driving you home and pawing at you.

He texted you back.

Let me know when you get home, okay? And you can always just call me.

With a sigh, he got out of bed and plugged his phone in, not sure what to expect at this point. He went back into the bathroom and used his red toothbrush. And then he went back to the living room and closed all the windows. When he was in his room again, he had no new notifications as he climbed in bed. He was about to text you again and check in when his phone rang.

CALL FROM Pretty Girl

Bradley was smiling as he answered. "Hey, Pretty Girl."

A soft laugh preceded your voice, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek as you said, "Hi, Bradley with the O positive blood. Are you trying to tell me that you were in that bar bathroom with a girl?"

He found himself laughing. "Can I plead the fifth?"

When you moaned softly, he dropped his phone onto the pillow and had to scramble to get it. "Oh, my god. Even your voice is sexy."

Okay. He should not be on the verge of touching himself after you spoke three whole sentences to him. "You make it home safely?" he asked, trying to play it cool as he thought about those photos you sent him. 

"Mmhmm. A very nice man named Alan drove me home. He's right here next to me as I get changed for bed."

Bradley thought for a beat that he had met his match in you. "You better be lying. You know what, put Alan on the phone."

Your laughter filled him up as you said, "He's not really here. I had to ditch him, because he doesn't even have a mustache. Apparently that's a deal breaker for me now?"

Holy shit. Bradley was in trouble. He was getting turned on, and you weren't even really saying anything dirty. "You're killing me. You gonna tell me your name, Pretty Girl?"

"No. I think I'm going to hold onto it a little longer."

"Fine. But please explain to me how I've never seen you at the Hard Deck before. I'm certain I would remember your face."

Your voice sounded a little softer now as you said, "I just moved to Coronado. It was my first time at the bar."

If he hadn't worked so late today, Bradley would have probably been there tonight as well. "You had fun? You think you'll go back again?"

"Probably," you replied casually. "When do you think you'll be there?"

Bradley was so warm he was starting to sweat. "Pretty Girl, you just say the word, and I'll clear my whole damn calendar."

Your little sighs and soft giggles were going to be the death of him. "You know, I still have Alan's, or rather your phone number on my hand."

He imagined himself kissing your palm and rewriting his phone number. "Should be in my handwriting. I'll make sure I always bring a pen with me to the bar."

You cleared your throat softly, and Bradley imagined you climbing into bed. "Penny told me to watch out for some of the other guys. But she said you're okay."

"Just okay?"

"Actually, she called you a big, brown eyed puppy dog."

Bradley laughed. "I've been called worse."

"I'm sure you have," you replied quickly. "You deserve some sort of punishment for daring to look good with a mustache."

"It's a blessing and a curse. Now, are you going to send me another photo? Or are you going to just agree to meet me tomorrow night?"

He heard a rustling noise and then you softly said, "Alan is not going to like this one bit." And then another photo arrived, and this one had Bradley's mouth hanging open. 

"Now it's my turn to ask if you're naked in this picture." He was taking in every inch of your exposed skin and your bedding tucked up to your collar bones. You took your makeup off for bed, and you looked cozy and intimate. And you were talking to him. You were letting him see this. Bradley had to actively think about not touching himself. 

"Totally naked."

"Fuck."

"Send me another one?"

"Yeah," he grunted, swallowing hard as he tried to pose for another selfie just how he was, sprawled out on his pillow with his left arm bent and tucked back behind his head. But his cheeks looked flushed, and his eyes looked darker than usual. He was turned on. 

Fuck it. He snapped the photo and sent it. And about ten seconds later, he was greeted with the strangled sound you made.

"It should be illegal for someone with that mustache to look so good. It's rude, honestly. Bradley, you're kind of rude, because now I want to know...."

He was hanging on your every word. "Know what, Pretty Girl?"

The call went completely silent before you said softly and sweetly, "What your mustache feels like...everywhere."

A soft, startled laugh escaped his lips. You were on the verge of some dirty talk now, he could just tell. And his cock was hard as he replied with, "I'd love to let you find out. But before you respond, I need to know how much you've had to drink tonight. I don't want to take advantage of anything here."

You whimpered on the other end of the call. "A mustache, brown eyes, and a gentleman? All Alan did for me was buy me those two Long Island iced teas."

Bradley grunted and said, "That's enough about Alan. Why don't you go ahead and tell me where you'd like to feel my mustache first, Pretty Girl."

You squeaked and said, "I want to feel it rough along my skin right below my ear while you whisper to me. Oh my god, I can't believe I said that out loud. I should just go to bed."

"Don't hang up," Bradley said, panting with need now. "Tell me more."

"Okay," you sighed with another little squeak. "I want to feel it on my lips. While I'm sitting in your lap, licking the taste of that beer you drank from your mouth."

"Holy shit," he groaned, palming himself through his boxer briefs.

"I know," you whined with need. "And I want to feel it on the back of my neck while you do filthy things to me. And I don't even know you!"

"You will," he guaranteed. "Please, tell me what time I can meet you tomorrow."

Bradley listened to the rustle of your sheets as he waited. Then you finally said, "Seven o'clock? At the Hard Deck?"

"I'll be there, Pretty Girl. I can't wait to see you."

--------------------------

It was barely even 6:30, but you were already at the bar all made up and wearing a cute dress. Penny recognized you right away, which was kind of nice and kind of embarrassing. When she asked if you wanted another Long Island, you waved her off and said, "Nothing yet. I'm meeting someone."

Her eyes lit up as she asked, "Is it Rooster?"

You'd barely slept all night, preferring to look at the four selfies he'd sent you after you ended the call around two. There was a little more dirty talk, sure, but you and he also learned a bit more about each other. And now you were going to meet this naval aviator who was originally from Virginia but loved the Los Angeles Clippers face to face. 

"Yeah. It's Rooster."

Penny looked truly delighted. "You have nothing to worry about. He's very sweet."

"Tell that to the butterflies," you muttered as you placed one hand on your stomach for a beat, willing the nerves to dissipate as you walked away. You'd told Bradley you wanted his mustache on your body. In several places. And then he told you he thought you were so pretty and fun that he wanted to kiss you everywhere. And right now you were just mystified as to how this could have possibly happened only a week after you moved to this neighborhood. And you still didn't know what happened to Alan after you went to the ladies' bathroom and saved the wrong number in your phone.

You laughed when you thought about it, and then you ran your hands along the fabric of your dress. You were so antsy, your palms were sweaty. You looked down at yourself and just got more nervous. Bradley hadn't seen much of your body in the photos you'd sent to him. You'd seen plenty of his though, and he looked tall and muscular even next to his damn refrigerator. And his face was gorgeous, right down to that sinful looking mustache. 

And you were just... you. Alan was really more your speed with his nerdy glasses and messy hairstyle and his lack of ability to even grow any sort of facial hair at all. You just hoped that Bradley wouldn't take one look at you in person and walk right back out of the bar. 

You were about to tell Penny that you thought you needed a drink after all when the door caught your eye, and Bradley strolled into the bar like he owned the place. "Oh...fuck," you whispered, gaping at him as he ran his fingers through his hair. The photos hadn't even done him justice. He had to be over six feet tall, and he was so broad and muscular, he looked like he could pick you up and toss you around a little bit. "Shit." He was wearing some snug fitting jeans and a tropical print shirt like he just knew he could pull off the most ridiculous look. "Damn." He was glancing around, trying to find you while you started scouring the room unsuccessfully for another exit. 

You were trapped in here, and he was walking further into the bar now. And you didn't think you could hide halfway behind this couple who was making out for very much longer.  

As Bradley's eyes scanned the crowd again, he looked a little apprehensive. His brow was scrunched, and he checked the time on his watch. You knew it was almost seven. So you took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and then you scooted one step to your left. When his gaze came your way again, his eyes landed on you. And then his face softened. The apprehension melted away, and he smiled a cute and somehow sexy little grin that made you whimper.

Now he was heading your way, his gait sure and steady. And then he was just a few feet away and you could see the scars on his face that you'd studied all night in the photos. And you could see the flecks of gold in his eyes that somehow the selfies didn't capture. And then he was talking, and his voice was even better in person.

"Pretty Girl."

Okay, so he'd seen you up close, and he wasn't running away. That had to be a good sign, right? You managed to say just one slightly breathless word. "Hi." And then his smile grew, and he was closing the space between your body and his. He was reaching for your face and running one rough thumb along your cheek. And then he kissed you.

And the soft scrape of his mustache was even better than all of the ways you'd spent your night imagining it might feel. You couldn't help but return his kiss, and somehow your hands ended up pressed to the front of him, sliding up to his chest. 

When he broke the kiss, he stayed close, his lips not far from your face. He covered your hands with his, keeping them on his body. And then he leaned close to your ear, his mustache scraping along your soft skin there as he whispered, "Tell me your name, Pretty Girl. I'm dying here."

Soft laughter bubbled out of you as he pulled away from you a bit, and those butterflies were going wild. His eyes were fixed on your face, begging for an answer this time as he stroked your hands with his thumbs. And then you told him, and he tried your name out on his tongue a few times with that grin that you liked so much. He kept saying it softly until you kissed him this time, and then he guided your arms around his neck. 

"Listen," he said in that raspy voice that you'd love to focus on all night. "I have no problem staying here for a while if you want to. I bet you could even persuade me to join you in the ladies' room."

"Sounds tempting," you told him with a smirk.

"It really does. But we could also just ditch the bar and grab dinner instead? Maybe watch the Clippers game and have a drink at my place? I'm a little worried Alan might show up here and try to lure you away, if I'm being honest."

You practically snorted with laughter. "I can't even really remember what Alan looks like. He was totally gone from my mind after the first selfie you sent me. Let's get out of here."

He took you by the hand. "Anything you want, Pretty Girl."

-------------------------

I love dreamy loverboy Bradley, and I love Pretty Girl too. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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[bucks-babe]

Change My Ways For You

Pairing: College!Fuckboy!Bucky x college!fem!reader

Summary: One of the only girls in school that didn’t want Bucky Barnes was somehow the one he fell in love with

Warnings: Smut, fluff, reader doesn’t take any of Bucky’s shit, himbo!Bucky, Bucky being a fuckboy,a bit of forced proximity, small part where Bucky is fucking someone else (ew), pinning, Bucky proving himself to be a sweet boy, non consentual kissing, Bucky being tooth rottingly sweet, Bucky calling reader sweets sweetheart and sweetcheeks, Steve is a dick (sorry not sorry), PROTECTED p in v (they are responsible in this one), fingering, fluffy smut, dirty talk, cockwarming?, so much praise, talk about STDs, delayed aftercare, talk about no aftercare, Bucky learns about aftercare so all is good

Word Count: 14.6k This is a long one

A/N: Thank you to @buckys-wintersoldier for beta reading and helping with the direction; however, any and all mistakes are mine and mine alone. This fic is the most adorable and full of emotions. The angst, the fluff, the feelings and especially Bucky. The way they act around one another — it’s absolutely great and definitely a read worth it!

“I have to admit, some of your grades in this class are less than I expected. Some of you have excelled in my class, but there are quite a few students to which their performance, to put it nicely, has been subpar.” A few students in the room look around, trying to see who looks guilty of having shit grades. You couldn’t care less; you know your grades are great so it’s not your problem if someone else is failing. 

All you want to do is get out of class and go back to your dorm to sleep, having stayed up way too late to finish a research paper for a different class. Your professor walks back over to his desk and leans back on it, sighing and taking off his glasses to wipe them on his sweater. 

“Now, while I understand that this course is not for the faint of heart, I still expect all of you to put in effort, and based on these,” he holds up the essays that were due last week, “I can tell that some of you just don’t care. Not even mentioning those of you who didn’t turn in your paper.”

You hear a scoff a few rows behind you and you know it’s Bucky Barnes without having to turn your head. He is the resident fuckboy, not caring about school or his education, just going to parties and fucking every living thing in sight. Sometimes you think that the only reason he is even in college is to have the “college experience” of “being free and having a bit of fun.” 

He’s never turned your head, rather just been a thorn in your side three times a week when you go to class, always joking with his friends next to him or talking about his latest trist. You don’t want to hear about how loud a random girl screamed when she came on his cock. You were here to get your degree and finally move out of this shitty town you were stuck in.

Honestly, you doubt that Bucky was even giving anyone orgasms. In your experience, men who brag about how good they were in bed were nothing but a disappointment, giving you about 30 seconds of mediocre sex until they came inside a condom and rolled over only to ask you, “did you cum?” The answer was always no. You didn’t have the patience to stroke any man’s ego when they couldn’t even make you wet. 

Bucky did nothing but make you roll your eyes, annoyed by the absolute gall of himself. “Now, because I don’t want my class average to go down because of a few dumbasses, I have sent some of you an email to meet me in my office after hours in which I will pair you up with another student in hopes that it will give you a kick in the ass since I cannot be bothered to spend more time teaching you.” You like your professor, you really do. He was one of the chillest professors you’ve had, but a twinge of fear goes through you. You fucking hope that he doesn’t pick you to help another student, especially Bucky.

You hang on to the sliver of hope that he won’t pick you. He knows that you’re busy, right? Between work and school you don’t have any time to tutor anyone. The topic stays on your mind long after you leave class, delaying looking at your email just in case he picked you to help another student. 

As the hours went by, however, you knew that you had to check it. You cursed when your laptop had battery; if it didn’t, it would have given you an excuse to not show up if you were picked. Nonetheless, you opened your school email, only to find out that you had been picked and you needed to go down to your professors office in a half hour.

Getting dressed, you had the most intense scowl on your face. This was the last thing you needed added onto your plate. You only hoped that he would pair you up with someone who didn’t need that much help, but you were proven wrong when you walked in only to find Bucky sitting down looking like he would rather be anywhere else.

“Take a seat, please.” You huff and sit down, moving your body away from Bucky as much as you could. You didn’t really feel comfortable around him. He’s never done anything to you per say, but you’ve seen his shameless flirting and it makes you uneasy and never want to be on the receiving end of it.

You don’t pay attention to anything your professor says, something about helping Bucky over the next few months until he’s passing or fails out of the course. You’re too lost in thought to care. On top of everything you have going on, now you have to help the one person you can’t stand.

Your professor dismisses the both of you with instructions to meet at least twice a week to study together. Bucky walks out before you and you assume that he has sprinted away to go to another party given that it was late afternoon, but you find him right outside the door. 

“So, sweetcheeks, I guess you’re gonna be seeing a lot of me now.” His eyes run up and down your body, like this was the first time he’s seen you. It makes you shift and wrap your arms around your middle, trying to soothe yourself. Bucky clearly takes this the wrong way and thinks that you like his hungry eyes and steps closer to you. “How about I give you my number and we can meet up, ya know, to study? Or if you ever need something, I’m sure we can figure something out.”

You don’t want to give him your phone, thinking about where his hands have been. Ever since his step closer to you, you can smell the scent of sex on him. If you look closer at his beard you can see the glisten on it, most likely from some girl he ate out right before he came to the meeting. 

“Just tell me your number, James so we can get this over with. I don’t want to help you and you don’t want my help. Clearly you don’t give a shit about this class and you only want to get in my pants.” He raises his eyebrows at your tone, a little shocked that you spoke to him like that. Before he opens his mouth you continue, “I mean, look at you. You’re flirting with me when I can fucking see that someone’s pussy was on your face, and that makes you think that I want to have sex with you?”

He opens his mouth one more time but you aren’t finished, finally able to snap at him for all the times he’s pissed you off. “I’m not going to be one of the girls you add to your roster so you can get that idea out of your head right now. The only time I am going to interact with you is when I have to, okay? Now give me your number so I can go back to my dorm and fucking sleep.”

Bucky is shocked, not having anyone talk to him like that. It pisses him off that you rejected him. Everyone wanted a piece of him, but he has time to change your mind. He can’t lie, your sass was making his pants tighter, but he relents and gives you his number before you walk away while he watches your ass, palming his dick through his pants. 

He needs to relieve the pressure in his groin and he’s sure as hell you’re not going to help him and his hand is nowhere near good as a pussy, so he goes out to Steve’s party, knowing that he can get a girl in minutes.

“Fuck, yeah baby, that pussy feels so good wrapped around my cock. Shit, love that ass too, you gonna let me fuck it? Yeah, I bet you fucking would too.” Bucky doesn’t know how the two of them ended up in the bathroom, fucking each other’s brains out, but he’s not complaining. When she offered to get on her knees and suck his cock he pulled her into the nearest room, cumming on her face before pushing her into the mirror, smearing her makeup and his cum all over the mirror.

The slam of his hips was brutal, surely going to leave bruises on her hips but he didn’t care, as long as she wasn’t complaining, he would do whatever he wanted with her, fucking her like she was a slut. “Fuck, baby, gonna make me fucking cum. Pussy is so fucking tight.” He lets a groan out, close to cumming. 

 Usually he didn’t make much noise during sex other than dirty talk, only breathing heavily and groaning when he was about to cum, but he was always composed. Sex felt great, but he never felt the need to moan. He never understood why men would moan like a slut just over some pussy, and he doubted that he would ever embarrass himself like that during sex.

“Love the way that ass bounces, so fucking hot.” This was the way Bucky fucked - from behind watching the girl’s ass jiggle. He wasn’t one to fuck any other way. Bucky didn’t give a shit to watch her face or look into her eyes, he just wanted to cum as fast as possible so he could move on with the rest of his day. He thought missionary was quite possibly the most boring position ever created, not like he ever made it to a bed anyway.

“Shit, gonna take my cum, bitch? Yeah, you fucking are, just a little fucking cumdump for me, letting me fuck you in a dirty bathroom, too horny for my fat cock.” He was babbling, just wanting to cum so he could go back out to the party and have another drink, maybe even pick another girl up for later.

Bucky lets out a low groan, filling up the condom with his cum. Once his orgasm is finished, he pulls out, taking the rubber off and throwing it away. Pulling his pants back up, the girl turns around, clearly affronted. “I didn’t even cum, baby.” Her voice was high and annoying, making Bucky roll his eyes. 

“Sorry, but your pussy made me bust early.” He chuckles knowing damn well that it was a lie. He just couldn’t be bothered to make her cum. Why would he put in the extra work to make her cum when he was just having fun? If she wanted to cum so bad she could have handled it herself. He wasn’t stopping her from using her own hands. Bucky either ate a girl out until she came to get her nice and wet if he was feeling generous that day or left her to her own devices while he took his own pleasure from her body.

She blushes, “oh, thanks, that’s sweet of you.” Bucky just wants to get the fuck back to the party and she’s talking too fucking much. “Maybe we can do this again.”

He can hear how hopeful she is and he felt just a little bit bad so he decided to humor her. “Sure, Sherry, whenever I’m free. You know college life and all, working hard in classes every day. Gotta keep up that 4.0 GPA.” As he heads for the door, he hears her squeak out, It’s Sally!

The next day is when you’re supposed to meet Bucky in the library to study, but it’s been a half hour and he still hasn’t shown. You decide to study what you need to. If Bucky wanted to fail you weren’t going to go out of your way to help him. You weren’t his mother; he was a grown man and he was responsible for himself. 

Nearly an hour later, Bucky stumbles in, clearly reaping the effects of the alcohol binge he must have been on the night before. It was no wonder  why he was failing his classes. When he sees you, a smile graces his lips, trying to make you forget that he was more than fashionably late. “Heeyyyy, sweetcheeks. You been waitin’ on me long?” The closer he gets the more you can smell the musk of sex and alcohol.

“James, are you wearing the same clothes as yesterday?” You know he is and you fight the urge to turn your nose up at the offensive smell coming off him.

“Huh? Oh, shit, I am. Well would ya’ look at that?” He laughs before plopping down in the seat next to you, his smell even worse than before. He tries to give you what you assume is a sexy look, but he just looks like he just awoke out of a coma. “How about you help me change them then, sweetcheeks? Maybe even give me a good scrub, make sure I’m real clean? Oh, and sweets, call me Bucky since we’re gonna get real close.”

There is no way that he is trying to have sex with you when his stink is filling up the entire section of the library. Anger bubbles up in your chest. You were here to help him and he is taking this whole thing like a joke. “I don’t have time for this, James. Unlike you, I actually care about my grades and don’t think with what’s in my pants.”

As you go to walk away, Bucky tries to grab your wrist, wanting to mess with you some more, but his motor skills haven’t come back yet and he was too slow. “C’mon, sweetheart, I was just messin’ with ya’, don’t get your panties in a twist.” Bucky holds his tongue about wanting to sniff your panties, not wanting to antagonize you further, but you just keep storming away and soon enough you’re out of Bucky’s sight.

Bucky huffs, annoyed that you walked away from him. Not because he actually wanted to talk to you, no of course not, it’s because no one has ever walked away from him. He walks away from girls after he fucked them, not the other way around. Grabbing his shirt, he lifts it up to smell it, turning his head away when the stench hits him. “Damn, no wonder she fucking sprinted away from you, Barnes.” Bucky stands up, almost falling over when gets lightheaded, the effect of drinking all night with no food catching up to him.

He slowly makes his way back to his dorm to shower and get out of his grimy clothes, feeling it stick to his skin in the worst way possible. He realizes that he only gave you his number and you didn’t give him yours so he has no way of texting you to see when your next session is. Maybe he would have made it on time if you texted him. It wasn’t his fault he was late. Honestly, you should have reminded him since you are supposed to be helping him.

The next day Bucky sees you in class and luckily he doesn’t reek this time. Instead of sitting in his usual seat, he goes down a few rows and plops down next to you. “So, sweetheart, I don’t mean to question your teaching methods, but seems to me like you’re a pretty lackluster teacher, runnin’ out on me like that.” You slowly turn your head, completely shocked at the sheer audacity of this man. How dare he say anything about you when he showed an hour  late and proceeded to ogle you like a piece of meat?

“Excuse me? You wanna say that again, James? Because I don’t think I heard you right, because you better not have just said that I’m the problem.”

“I was just teasin’ ya, sweets. But if this is gonna work ya gotta help me a little bit. I mean, you’re the teacher and all.” You wanted to slap that smug smirk right off of his face.

“If this is going to work, James, then you need to try. I’m not going to pull my weight and yours so get that idea out of your head right now. I’ll be in the library at 4:30. If you’re so much as a minute late, I’ll tell the professor to get someone else to deal with you.” With that you got up and changed your seat, not wanting to be around him for another second. 

Bucky felt his pants tighten again. He really needs to do something about your attitude, like fuck it out of you. It wasn’t a lie that he found you attractive and the thought of bending you over your desk and watching your ass bounce made his cock even harder. Bucky was contemplating asking the girl next to him for a handjob but the thought of her hands around his cock didn’t seem as good as what he thought your hands would feel like.

So instead of that, Bucky moved his seat to the back of the room so he could jerk off. A man has needs after all and Bucky has never had to worry about someone taking care of his boners until now.

Bucky decides not to push his luck and he actually shows up to the library on time, sans all of his books, but at least he’s there. He sees you in the corner, hunched over your laptop, typing away. You look cute too, with your tongue slightly passed your lips in concentration and eyebrows pulled together. Reading glasses perched on your nose. His sweetheart was working hard. What the fuck, Barnes? Bucky is taken aback by his own thoughts. He has never looked at a girl like that, when none of his thoughts are about how many different ways he could fuck them.

You roll your eyes when you see that Bucky didn’t bring anything with him, just the air of arrogance that seems to follow him wherever he goes. “Would ya’ look at the time, sweets? I’m early. See I happen to take my education very seriously.” You swear, if you roll your eyes anymore because of this man, they’re going to be stuck in the back of your skull. 

“Yeah, yeah. What did the professor say you needed to work on?” You want to get straight to business. The faster you get this done the faster you can leave.

“Uh, well. I don’t exactly know what.” He tries to smile to soften the blow of his incompetence as he sits next to you, but you are almost vibrating in anger at how useless he is.

Huffing, you angrily click at your laptop, going to check the email your professor gave you, knowing that Bucky couldn’t be trusted to remember. “James, please tell me how your grade is a 13% and you’re still in college?” You had no idea that someone could have a grade that low and not be kicked out of the entire course.

“What! No way, let me see that.” You slide the laptop over to him, showing the proof of his negligence. “Well, damn, we have a lotta work to do then, sweetcheeks.” You ignore his comment and pull up his most recent essay, surprised that he turned it in at all, but not shocked to see how terribly he did.

“James, what did you even think this essay was about?”

“Uh, nature and care?” Your mouth drops open and you just stare at him for a minute, making him squirm under your gaze.

“James, this was an essay on Frankenstein, and you were supposed to analyze the difference between nature versus nurture. You wrote about the fucking trees!”

Bucky clearly didn’t understand the problem with his essay. “Yeah, that’s nature!”

“No, James. Nature as in how you are, like how you were born, not how you were raised. You were supposed to compare how Victor was nurtured all his life but was full of hate and spite, but the creature never had any care but he was benevolent until everyone who encountered him abhorred him!”

You were talking too fast and Bucky didn’t understand a word of what you said. You were using words that he had never heard of before. “So, you can fix it, right, sweets?” That same sly smile was on his lips. The look on your face was enough to make him backtrack. “Uh, so we can fix this right? You know, since we’re a team now.”

The resting bitch face you gave him had him shifting his eyes around the library, trying to avoid it. As soon as he did, however, he regretted his decision when his party hook up locked eyes with him. His eyes immediately went to your laptop, typing random words onto the document you pulled up, trying to seem busy.

“So, sweetcheeks, I’m picking up what you’re putting down. So Victor is a bitch and Frankenstein is cool.” The sound of your voice correcting him by calling the creature Frankenstein is drowned out by the shrill voice of his past trist.

“Hey, baby, haven’t seen you since that party. See you're working hard, keeping up that 4.0 I see.” She lets out a giggle and strokes his bicep. You raise an eyebrow but don’t say anything about his supposed GPA. You’re taking great pleasure in watching Bucky squirm, clearly not wanting anything to do with her now that he’s gotten his rocks off. 

“And who is this? I bet my smart baby is helping her study, right? That’s so sweet of you to help out, really. Not everyone would want to help the ugly girl.” You wheeled your head back, about to bite her head off for daring to say shit about your looks when the foundation on her face was three shades lighter than her chest that was almost spilling out of her way too small top. Now you were never one to judge, but if someone comes for your looks, you come right back at them.

Before you got the chance to tear her a new one, Bucky interjected. “Ya’ know me, always helping out where I can, even those less fortunate than me.” His eyes were glued to her chest and you doubted that he even knew what she said to begin with. “Listen, Sandy, how about we catch up after I’m done and I can help you out too?”

The “sexy” look on her face dropped. “My name’s Sally, nevermind, you can have the ugly bitch!” Bucky cringes slightly at getting her name wrong again; he was never good with those. You don’t know why you were involved with their lovers quarrel, but a twinge of hurt sprouts in your heart. You didn’t even do anything to her and she had to come at you for your looks, and Bucky didn’t say a fucking word.

Grabbing your things, you pack them with more force than necessary, but you don’t give a fuck. “Sweetheart, where are ya’ going? Don’t listen to her, she’s just a bit jealous that I’m with ya’.”

How does he not see what he did wrong? You just glare at him before turning on your heels and walking away. There is no way that you’re going to spend anymore time or energy on him when he isn’t going to try. If it was anyone else, maybe you wouldn’t be so hurt, but for just one second you thought that Bucky wasn’t as bad as he made himself out to be.

“Sweets, c’mon, we still have that essay to write.” Was this man really following you down the hall? Yes, yes he was. 

You spin around, eyes ablaze just to walk back up to him and push his chest. “You have an essay to write because I. Am. Done. You don’t give a fuck about this and I refuse to put myself through this for nothing.”

“What did I even do?” Now you were shaking with anger.

“What did you do? You haven’t tried at all, showing up late, trying to get me to fuck you, and worst of all, you let someone talk about me like that right in front of you and didn’t say a fucking word. You know, for a second there I thought you might be a nice guy, but you proved me the fuck wrong.”

Bucky had the nerve to look angry at what you said. Pushing you against the wall, he stares into your eyes. “Sweets, you’re really starting to piss me off. I’m fucking trying and it’s not good enough for ya’. I ought to fuck that attitude right outta ya’.” His eyes drop down to your lips and you’re too stunned to speak, not expecting him to push you up against a wall. 

He was starting to scare you, getting into your space like this, but before you could tell him to back off his lips smashed against yours. It was rough and fast. Your lips stayed still but your eyes were wide open, shocked at what he was doing. You tried to push his chest, but he only got closer to you, wrapping his arms around your waist, one hand dropping to your ass.

You struggled to free one of your hands, but as soon as you did you slapped Bucky in the face as hard as you could given your angle. He pulls back, shock on his face at the fact that you hit him. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing! What made you think that I wanted to kiss you, asshole!” You try to wipe your lips, wanting to get the memory of his lips against yours off.

Bucky just stood there, not knowing what to say. He didn’t know what came over him. You shook your head and practically ran away to your dorm so you could shower and wash his touch off of you. The next day you were glad you didn’t have class with Bucky, but the remains of his kiss were still lingering. You didn’t even want to help him to begin with and this is how it ends up? With him forcing you to kiss him.

You didn’t want to tell anyone what happened, just wanting to forget the whole thing. But you couldn’t avoid Bucky for long since you did have to share a class together. He tried to come up to you, but you saw it out of the corner of your eye and switched seats before he could reach you. The entire hour and a half lecture was spent making sure Bucky wasn’t making his way any closer to you.

Instead of rushing out when class was over, you made your way down to your professors desk. “Professor, could I talk to you in your office for a minute? It’s important.” He might be relaxed most of the time, but your professor always made sure everyone in his class felt like they could talk to him if needed. 

Nodding his head, he leads you to his office and closes the door behind you, but not before you catch a glimpse of Bucky looking like a kicked puppy. He knew what you were about to talk about in that office, but there was nothing he could do about it. “Have a seat and tell me what’s going on. You’ve seemed off the past couple of lessons and I’m starting to get worried.”

You gulped, not knowing why it was so hard to say that you don’t want to tutor Bucky anymore. You didn’t want to let your professor down. Maybe it was because he reminded you of a father that you never had, but you just wanted to make him proud, showing him that you were capable of what he entrusted to you. He was looking at you, waiting to listen.

“Um, well, I have been distracted, but I think that it would be best for James to-” You can’t finish the rest of your sentence when you look at your professor. He trusted you to help Bucky and you can’t throw his trust away. “I think it would be best for James to have a more structured plan and I wanted to discuss that with you.”

The pride in his eyes was undeniable and you forgot about all the shit Bucky has put you through over the last few days. “Of course, what did you have in mind?” When you get out of his office, Bucky is still waiting, most likely missing the next party one of his friends is having.

You don’t even look at him, only grabbing the front of his shirt and dragging him with you all the way down to the library. “Sweets, listen, I didn’t mean to make ya’ feel-” Turning around, you cut him off and he stumbles to a stop.

“No, I don’t want to hear it, James. You listen to me. We will meet in this library every other day at this exact time and you will keep your mouth shut and work. Do you hear me?” Bucky feels his pants tighten, but doesn’t say a word about it, slightly scared to talk back to you. 

He just nods his head, finally noticing how beautiful you were. How your eyes held so much emotion in them, even when you didn't let it show on your face. Or how your lips form a small frown, the sides pulling down giving you an adorable pout. The small belmishes on your face, the tiny imperfections, created the most beautiful woman he has ever seen.

“A nod is not an answer, James. Use your words.” Bucky swears that he could have cum in his pants at that exact moment. No woman has ever been so dominant with him in or out of the bedroom. 

He gulps before finding his voice again, hoarse but still working. “Yes, ma’am. I won’t let ya’ down again. I swear.” You stare into his eyes for a few seconds longer, determining if you believed him or not, giving Bucky more time to appreciate every part of your face he didn’t notice before.

You let go of his shirt and keep walking and Bucky follows you like a lost puppy, eyes downcast to your ass but not being able to see much with your hoodie going down past it. Instead of going to the corner of the library you were at last time, you walk to one of the private study rooms. “Sit and get your shit out.”

Bucky wastes no time following your direction, loving how brazen you were. You sit down next to him, giving him the opportunity to smell your perfume, the light scent intoxicating. “So, teach, what are we working on first?” His eyes are bright and attentive, taking in your facial expressions. He’s trying to butter you up, make you less angry at him.

“We have to fix your atrocious essay. It’s worth the most amount of points so hopefully it will bring your grade up.” You root through his binder, nothing organized at all. When you find it and pull it out you sigh, not knowing where to even start. “Okay, first things first, you need to at least understand what this is about.”

You explain everything to him, stopping to see if he is still following along, surprised to see him paying attention, going so far as to interrupt every so often to ask questions. For the first time since he got to college, Bucky is trying. The two of you sit there for a few hours, going over the essay line by line, fixing his mistakes. To your surprise, his grammar wasn’t too bad. At least he had something going for him.

The next few lessons go by the same way, Bucky working hard to not piss you off, but also to improve his grades. There were no flirty comments, no complaining about you being bossy. He was falling for you, something that Bucky never thought would happen to him.

He didn’t know how it started. Maybe it was that day you told him off, grabbing his shirt and putting him in his place. Whatever it was, he didn’t care. You were so beautiful and smart. God you were smart. It amazed him how easy it was for you to explain the assignments to him. 

Bucky stopped going to parties, too. For once he didn’t find interest in getting shitfaced drunk and sticking his dick in a random girl; although it was giving him his first ever case of blue balls, it just felt wrong to have sex with another girl. He tried once at the last party he went to before he decided to stop going, but her hand on his cock didn’t make him pulse with need. Bucky ended up faking a phone call, saying that his friend was in the hospital and he needed to go see him.

As the weeks pass, Bucky can tell you’re getting soft on him, especially when you called him Bucky for the first time.

 “C’mon, sweets, it can’t be that bad helpin’ me out.” Bucky leans back in his chair, his signature smirk plastered on his face. 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, James because from where I stand, I’m losing IQ points by the minute with you.” You still try to sass him but Bucky can tell you’re fighting off a smile. The two of you talk like actual friends now - no more jabs at his promiscuity and no more ogling.

“Ah, I think it’s the other way around. I can feel myself gettin’ smarter with ya’.” Bucky puts his head on the table in front of you, moving so he could look at your face. His eyes glisten, showing the sweet man hidden underneath his tough exterior.

“Oh, give me a break, Bucky, you’re just trying to butter me up so I’ll do all the work for you.” You smile, looking down at him with the same adoration he’s giving you. His name leaving your lips felt right, smooth and sweet.

Bucky’s eyes widen, not expecting his name to sound so damn good coming from you. He doesn’t say anything in fear of you going back to calling him James. Now that you’ve called him Bucky, he never wants to hear his first name come out of your mouth again. He wants to be your Bucky.

You can’t deny the feelings you’ve developed for Bucky. The man charming his way into your heart, but you know you can’t act on them. You doubt that Bucky has ever been in a serious relationship, only going for one night stands. Even though you’ve seen first hand how sweet of a man he can be, you still aren’t convinced that he would be interested in dating.

But Bucky doesn’t share the same sentiment. Today is the day he’s going to ask you on a date, hoping that you’ll say yes and give him a chance to prove himself to you, prove that he can be the man you deserve. Like always, you’re in the library before him, already set up and waiting. When you see him walking over you wave, the same gorgeous smile he fell for gracing your lips. 

You could tell that he was nervous, stuttering and not meeting your eyes. “Bucky, what’s going on with you? Don’t tell me that you forgot to turn in the essay that we’ve been working on.”

Bucky smiles sheepishly at you. “No, sweets, I remembered to turn it in. I, uh, well, ya’ know. I got a question for ya’.” Mentally slapping himself in the face, Bucky blushed.

Staring at him suspiciously, you pushed your laptop away, giving him your full attention. “Well, sweets, you’ve been so good to me over these past few weeks. Really turned me around. I didn’t think that I would be able to do all this college shit, you know?” It wasn’t a question that he wanted you to answer. “You made me change my ways. I don’t want to go to parties and get blackout drunk anymore. To be honest, I’d much rather spend my time with you.”

Bucky takes a deep breath while you gaze at him with a blank expression on your face, making him even more nervous than before. “Doesn’t matter what we’re doing, s’long as it’s with you I don’t care.”

You cut off his rambling, afraid of where he is going. “Bucky, what are you trying to say to me?” You know what he is trying to say, but you don’t know how to react to it. It’s not like you haven’t imagined what it would be like to go out with him, but that’s just not the man he is.

“I’m tryin’ to be romantic right now, sweets.” He lets out a little giggle, playing with his hands to try to calm himself down. “What I’m tryin’ to say is, would you like to go on a date with me?” Bucky feels his heart drop when you only stare at him, not even blinking. His knee starts to bounce, the anticipation becoming too much for him.

You sigh, thinking about what to say to him. The two of you have a good friendship, one that you never thought you would have, but starting a relationship with him is terrifying. “Bucky, listen.” Just from the way you started your sentence, Bucky regrets saying anything. “It’s not that I don’t like you, I really do, but I can’t deny that your past scares me.”

“What do you mean, sweets?” For a man so observant, he can be a little dumb.

“You don’t do relationships, Bucky. You’re used to no strings attached and dating includes a lot of strings.” Bucky clenches his jaw, of course his past would come back to bite him in the ass.

“I don’t want no strings attached anymore. I want to be with you and only you.” You close your eyes, putting your head down slightly. You want to believe him, you really do, but you don’t want to get your heart broken. Gently, Bucky’s hand grabs your chin, moving you to face him. “Let me prove myself to you, sweets, just give me a chance and if I blow it I give you full permission to kick my ass.”

That brings a small smile to your lips, but you’re still not convinced. “What if you get bored of me? Being with the same person over and over again?” Bucky’s heart aches at your words, not used to seeing you unsure of yourself. How could he ever get tired of you? He knows that he is the one who caused your insecurities. If he didn’t sleep around as much as he did, then you wouldn’t worry about his loyalty.

“Sweetheart, ever since you put me in my place, I haven’t touched another woman, can’t even think about someone who isn’t you touchin’ me. Just one chance is all I’m askin’ and I promise that I will show you how much I care.”

Closing your eyes, you lean into his warm palm, letting yourself feel him. His eyes hold so much vulnerability and you feel yourself losing the ability to say no to him. “Just one chance, Barnes. And if you hurt me I swear to God.” You’ve never seen Bucky smile so wide, pure joy adorning his face. 

The smile never left his face, only growing wider. “Wouldn’t dream of it, sweets. What about you come over to my dorm and we can have a movie night? Maybe you could even stay over?” He looks sheepish, worried you’ll turn him down. At the quirk of your brow he rushes to explain himself. “Not like that! Just to hang out.”

You head back to your dorm to get a change of clothes while Bucky waits outside so he could walk with you back to his. As soon as you walk out, he is rushing to grab your bag from you, insisting that he carries it. “Bucky, I can carry my own bag, you know. I’m capable of that much.” He loves your little attitude, never accepting his help.

Throwing an arm over your shoulder, Bucky leads you away, not giving you your bag back. His dorm is just what you expect from a college frat boy: trash can overflowing, clothes on the floor, food left out, bed a complete mess. Scratching the back of his neck, Bucky shyly looks at you. You decide to only give him a little bit of grief for the mess. “Am I allowed on the bed or have you fucked someone here?”

Bucky’s eyes widen, frantically shaking his head. “No, never brought anyone back to my dorm.” Toeing your shoes off, you ask him where the bathroom is, changing your clothes before you flop onto the bed, letting yourself sink into the fluffy mattress. For a minute, Bucky feels his brain malfunction. The sight of you in his bed is probably the hottest thing he’s ever seen. He would give his left arm to have you naked right now, his cock buried deep inside you, your pussy pulsing around his cock, moaning when he rubs little circles on your clit.

“You just gonna stand there, or are you gonna put on a movie, loverboy?” Shaking his head, Bucky nods and heads over to grab his laptop before climbing into bed, leaving space in between the two of you in case you didn’t want to be too close. “I didn’t know that hanging off the side of the bed was your style, but if you want to leave me to freeze feel free to do so.”

Bucky doesn’t know how to act around you, this whole dating thing is uncharted territory for him. He just moves over, your thigh pressed to his. Bucky had to will his cock to not get hard, the softness of your body was making it hard to think straight. The fact that he’s only jerked off for the past month isn’t helping either.

You move to get more comfortable, which so happens to include you snuggling into his side, curling your arms around his bicep. Bucky has no clue what the movie is about, the image of all the things he wants to do to you in this bed are too much for him. He doesn’t know what the feeling passing over him is. He likes this. He likes the feeling of your body pressed to his. Not in a sexual way, although he wouldn’t mind that either, but in a completely innocent way. Bucky never stayed around after he came, always getting dressed and leaving. He’s never had a woman press their body against his just to find comfort.

Somehow, Bucky is following along with the plot of the movie, but he knows that it was just because of how you interacted with all the characters like they could hear you. Bucky would usually hate that, he hates when people talk through movies, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be angry with you. If anything, he was glad that you kept talking, giving him the opportunity to hear your voice.

Halfway through the movie you stop talking. When Bucky looks down he sees that you fell asleep on his chest. Of course at that moment Bucky’s bladder decided that he needed to pee urgently. He tried to hold off for as long as he could, focusing on the part of your mouth and the bit of drool leaking from it. But try as he might, he needed to use the bathroom. 

He tried to maneuver you to not disturb your sleep but you woke up as soon as he moved. “Where you going?” Shit, he’s going to have to pee with a boner because your sleepy voice sent blood right to his cock. 

“Just gotta take a leak, be right back.” You just snuggle deeper into the pillows, humming in understandment. Bucky has to put one hand on the wall in the bathroom, leaning over the toilet at an awkward angle trying to push his erection down with his other hand so he could pee. It took a bit of work, but he was able to go without making a mess. Now, Bucky might be a lot of things, but unhygienic isn’t one of them and before he goes back to bed he washes his hands.

Once he walks back into the room he sees that you’re more awake than before but still laying in bed. He hits the lightswitch on his way over and turns on the lamp, letting the soft glow illuminate your features. “What took you so long? Almost fell back asleep.”

Before he could answer, you wrap your body around his and feel his hard cock through his sweats. Pulling away slightly, your face gets hot. That’s why he took so long. “Shit, sweets, I’m sorry. It’s just, well, you were in my bed, and you look so gorgeous. Not that I’m expecting anything! But the image of you is fucking hot. Fuck, I shouldn’t have said that.”

Your giggle catches him by surprise. “It’s okay, Bucky. Can’t imagine going from having sex all the time to being abstinent for a month.” With the soft glow of the lamp, you see Bucky’s blush. “Just don’t think I’m going to fix it for you though.” He shakes his head and chuckles lowly, pulling you back into him, keeping his pelvis away from yours even though his dick was begging for release.

Bucky doesn’t say anything back, but his hand moves to your waist, resting over your shirt. His thumb rubs small circles before he trails his hand up to your ribs and you can feel the heat of his palm through your shirt. For a few minutes he keeps his hand there, feeling your heartbeat, all the while moving his face closer.

He can feel your heartbeat pick up the closer he gets. You can feel his breath on your lips, warm and inviting. You’ve never been this close to his face, seeing all of his freckles up close. You don’t want him to pull away, not when your whole body is thrumming with need. Never in your wildest dreams did you think that Bucky could be this gentle.

He moves his hand up to your arm, delicately trailing his fingertips up and down, giving you goosebumps. Bucky is waiting for you to make the first move this time. The first time he kissed you was crass and unwarranted. The little gasp that leaves your lips when his palm rests on your cheek makes his cock jump.

Eyes fluttering shut, you lean in first. His plump lips meet yours and you moan into his mouth, not expecting his lips to be so soft and warm. You move your hands to his chest, pulling him closer to you, wanting to feel his whole body pressed to yours. You ignore the erection pressed against your stomach, completely lost in the sensation of his mouth on yours. 

Bucky frees his other hand from under him and wraps it around your waist, pulling you on top of him. The pressure of his hand caused you to arch your back, gasping when your core meets his hard dick. Bucky doesn’t waste the opportunity to put his tongue in your mouth, groaning at the taste. He has to use every bit of self control in his body not to buck his hips up, but he doesn’t have to because you grind down onto him, searching for friction. The harder you kiss him, the more his will slips from him and he was the first to break the kiss, a trail of saliva still connecting you to him.

Both of you gasp for breath, having deprived yourselves of oxygen for too long. “Why’d you stop?” God, you were perfect. Eyes wide, pupils blown, kiss swollen lips - Bucky knew that he wanted to keep you like this all the time, having you look at him like that was addicting and he was already hooked.

“If we keep going I won’t be able to control myself and I told you that I’m going to prove to you that I’m in this. That I don’t want you just for sex. I’m going to treat you right, make sure you know how much I care first.” You have to bite your lip to stop the moan leaving you. That was the hottest and sweetest thing you’ve ever heard. The fact that Bucky, the resident fuckboy, is denying sex because he wants to show you what you mean to him first has your cunt clenching around nothing.

You can’t think of words to convey how much that means to you, so you just slam your lips against his, kissing him with as much passion as you possibly could. Bucky has to use every morsel of restraint to move you off of him. “Sweets, you’re going to kill me with this.” The giggle you let out makes leaving his throbbing dick alone worth it, but you take pity on him and ask if he wants to go to the bathroom to fix his issue.

At first he declines, but he eventually caves and goes into the bathroom, shuts the door and handles his business. You scroll on your phone for a bit but you’re surprised when he comes back so fast. “Loverboy, this better not be a sign that you don’t last in bed, because when we do have sex, I want you to fuck me properly.”

As he flops back down on the bed, he groans. When, you said when, not if, when. “Sweets, if I hadn’t just came my dick would be rock hard again. You can’t say shit like that to me.” He rolls over, stradling you. “And sweets, I promise you, I’ll fuck you so good you won’t remember your name.”

You just raise your eyebrows, choosing to tease him a bit. “Well, based on the time you spent touching yourself, I’m not convinced. Hope your reputation hasn’t gone to your head because I’ll be honest if you can’t fuck me right.”

Bucky squints his eyes at you before leaning down, like he was going to kiss you again, but at the last moment, he pulls back and tickles your sides. Your laughter is easily one of his favorite sounds. “Bucky! Stop or else I’ll never have sex with you.” That makes him pause, even though he knew it was an empty threat and lays back down next to you.

“Okay, okay, sweets, I’ll leave you be. But I wouldn’t be opposed to you tickling me.” 

“What, is this a kink that you have, being tickled?” He scrunches his nose while he laughs, knowing what he was going to say next.

“No, but I would love it if you would tickle my pickle.” He smirks like it was the best joke ever told, proud of himself. You groan and turn away from him so he can’t see your smile. “C’mon, sweets, that was a good one.”

If you turn around you know you’ll see his puppy dog eyes. “Buck, that was the worst joke in the history of jokes.” 

“Ah, ah, I can hear your smile. You loved it.” You don’t respond, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing that you liked his joke. It’s silent for a moment and you are about to turn back around but Bucky talks before you can. “Do you mind if we spoon? I mean, you don’t have to stay overnight, but if you want to, ya’ know.”

“Well, it is pretty cold outside, and I would hate to have to walk all the way back. And who knows, I could freeze to death at my dorm. Better be safe than sorry.” Bucky knows what you're doing and plays along.

“Of course, sweets, can’t have my girl freeze. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t keep my girl warm.” You skooch back, pressing against his chest and his arms circle your waist, chin resting on your head. “Night, sweets, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Only if I don’t run away, loverboy.” You feel the vibrations of his chest as he chuckles before leaning back to turn the lamp off, falling asleep with your soft body pressed to his.

Over the next few months, Bucky proves himself to be the perfect boyfriend, always asking you how your day was, remembering all the little things about you, kissing you and holding your hand around campus, not giving a single fuck who saw the two of you. He wasn’t embarrassed to admit he was whipped.

“Buck, c’mon, this is the best fucking party of the year, you have to go. It’s gonna be packed with girls in slutty costumes, Halloween man, everyone wants to fuck everyone.” Bucky only rolls his eyes at Steve.

“Dude, how many times do I have to tell you, parties aren’t for me anymore. Hangovers suck dick and I have better things to do in my free time.” Steve doesn’t seem to understand how much Bucky loved you. He’s never said it, at least not yet. 

“Like what, hanging out with the nerd who hasn’t put out in three months? C’mon, I know you want some pussy and it’s gonna be on a fucking platter tonight.” Bucky sees red, not giving a shit that Steve is his best friend. No one talks about his girl like that, no one.

“Steve, I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you, but you fucking know how much I care about her. If I ever hear you call her that shit again, I’ll put you in the fucking hospital. I couldn’t give less of a shit about how long I have to wait for her to know that I don’t just want a pussy to fuck, not anymore. I’m done with the parties and the random girls, okay. So get that through your thick skull.”

He doesn’t wait for Steve to answer, storming out of Steve’s dorm and walking away, not even caring where he was headed. He doesn’t know how he got there, but he stands outside of your door, raising his hand to knock. You always answer the door for him and this time is no different.

“Bucky, what’s wrong?” You were so tuned into him, reading him like a book. Without waiting you pull him into your dorm, shutting and locking the door behind him, leading him to your bed. His jaw was clenched, eyes set. If he was a cartoon, steam would be pouring from his ears.

“Fucking Steve.” He kicks off his shoes and gets comfortable in your bed, you following right after. You would go anywhere he goes.

Cuddling up to him, you pull him into you and his muscles relax at your touch, body responding to yours without thought. “What about Steve? You two get into a fight?” You never really liked Steve, but he was Bucky’s friend and you would listen to whatever he had to say about Steve. He was just like Bucky was before he met you.

“Being a fucking asshole. You wanna know what he said to me?” Bucky doesn’t wait for you to answer, only turning his head to see you better before continuing. “Wanted me to go to the Halloween party tonight, talking about all the girls that want to fuck as if he doesn’t know that I’m with you.” That doesn’t seem as bad as you thought, thinking that they got into a fist fight. It doesn’t surprise you that Steve was still trying to convince Bucky to go back to his playboy ways.

But Bucky wasn’t finished. “He had the fucking nerve to say that I should go because we haven’t had sex yet, like I give a shit about that. Fucking disrespected you right to my face.” You couldn’t deny that you were turned on by the fact that Bucky was defending your honor even when you weren’t there, not letting anyone bad mouth you.

“And what did you say, Buck?” Fuck, your voice was breathing, heartrate picking up. You wanted to hear what he said, how he told his best friend off. Bucky didn’t seem to pick up on your arousal, still too heated from his argument.

“Fucking told his ass that if he ever says that shit again, I’ll fuck him up. No one talks about my girl like that, don’t give a shit who it is.” You swear you could cum right now. Why was that so hot? Maybe it was because you’ve never had a man that didn’t let anyone disrespect you, or maybe you just liked to see him mad.

“I want you, Bucky. Want you to fuck me.” It just comes out, shocking the both of you. Bucky whips his head around, eyes as wide as your own.

“What?” 

“I want you to fuck me. I’m ready, know you don’t just want to use me.” Bucky’s dick is rock hard in seconds, all the anger in his body disapparating instantly. 

“Are you sure you want this, sweets? Because I have no problem waiting.” Throughout the course of your dating, Bucky can’t count the amount of times that he’s been hard and left his cock untouched. It’s gotten to the point where the two of you knew he was going to get hard when he was around you, not that it bothered you, knowing how much you were affecting him, but Bucky’s used to ignoring his erection now and he has no problem waiting for it to go away if you don’t want to have sex with him.

“Yes, Bucky, I think I’ve made you wait long enough. And to be honest, if I make you wait any longer I don’t think you’ll last more than a minute.” The mouth on you marvels Bucky every time. 

“Excuse me, sweets, but I’ll have you know I’m no two pump chump.” You only raise an eyebrow and Bucky huffs before kissing you again. It’s slow and hot. Bucky’s never kissed like this before, but with you he just can’t help but savor the feeling of your lips on his. He doesn’t want to rush, if he could he would kiss you forever, stuck in limbo, floating with only your touch to ground him.

You whine, hands pulling at his shirt, trying to get him to take it off. Bucky moves back, smirking at you. “Desperate, aren’t we? Just wanna feel me ‘gainst you, huh?” Teasing hasn’t been something Bucky really did, always hurrying to the main event, but he wants to make you crave him as much as he does you. 

The glare you give him holds no heat, not able to be mad at him when he’s looking so damn hot above you. Bucky relents, just this once, and takes his shirt off, revealing his toned stomach. He sucks a breath in through his teeth when your hands land on his abs. “Holy hell, woman! Your hands are fucking ice cubes!” You giggle but don’t pull away, sitting up and moving your hands across his back, slipping them into his sweats, finding his bare ass and squeezing.

“Well, loverboy, warm them up for me.” Bucky shakes his head in disbelief, chuckling at you. He takes your hands out of his pants and lays you back down, letting his warm palms circle the soft skin of your belly under your shirt. 

“Can I take this off, sweetheart? Gonna let me see those pretty tits?” Your cunt pulses at his words. Men that you’ve been with before haven’t talked to you like this, making you yearn for them.

“I mean, you can take it off but they’re not that pretty.” Bucky wheels his head back, clearly offended by your statement. For the first time, you shy away from his gaze. You weren’t exactly insecure about your body, but you also weren’t the most confident and you doubt that your body is better than the surplus of girls Bucky’s had.

“I beg your fucking pardon, sweets. I’m gonna need you to run that by me again.” Bucky lowers his face to yours, and you’re sure he is looking right through you. 

“Well, I doubt they’re the best pair you’ve seen, Buck. Don’t roll your eyes at me either.” You catch the eye roll Bucky gave you. He wasn’t rolling his eyes at you, but rather the words you were saying.

“I can’t believe my ears, sweets. The smartest girl I’ve ever met is saying what is quite possibly the dumbest thing I’ve heard. And that’s coming from the guy who is friends with Sam.” It’s your turn to roll your eyes and instead of saying anything back to him, you grab the bottom of your shirt and take it off, revealing your naked chest to him, foregoing a bra.

Like any man, Bucky gets distracted by the sight of your breasts on display for him. It takes him a second, but he shakes his head and comes back from his daze. “Fuck, sweetheart, you got the prettiest set of tits I’ve ever fuckin’ seen. Fucking perfect.” Bucky isn’t lying either, he really does think that you’re the most beautiful woman on the entire planet, every part of your body is perfection. “Should be a model, sweets, let everyone see how gorgeous you are.”

You feel the heat creep up your neck and rest on your cheeks. You aren’t used to being looked at like this. The look he’s giving you is so much different from when you first started working with him. It’s not filled with lust, although you can tell it’s there, but filled with awe and love. “Uh, uh, don’t look away from me. Want you to look at me while I make you cum.”

He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips before moving down to your neck, sucking on your sweet spot that he found the first time you made out. The little gasps and whines that leave your lips has his cock begging to be touched, but right now it isn’t about him, it’s about you.

You arch your back, pressing your soft breasts against his solid chest, drawing his attention away from your neck and to your tits. Trailing kisses down your chest, he swirls his tongue around your right breast, purposely avoiding your sensitive nipple. He doesn’t listen to any of your protests so you take matters into your own hands and grab a fistfull of his hair and jerk his head to where you want him to be. 

 The moan that leaves Bucky is pornographic, having no idea he liked his hair pulled that much. Bucky abides and takes your nipple into his mouth, sucking on it. “Oh, Bucky, just like that, feels good.” Bucky has to buck his hips into yours, never hearing something so sexy in all his life.

His other hand comes up to grab your other breast, rolling your nipple in between his fingers, every so often switching to give each one the attention they deserve. The longer he plays with your breasts, the more you feel your panties soak and you can’t take it anymore, needing some type of release.

Bucky pulls away with a pop, the cool air hitting your wet nipples makes you gasp. “Baby, I need you to touch me.” You can sense the words about to leave his mouth and answer his unspoken question. “Touch my pussy.”

Letting out a deep groan, Bucky grabs the hem of your sleep shorts, pulling them and your panties down when you nod. Your hand jets down to cover your pussy when you remember that you haven’t shaved, not expecting to have sex with Bucky tonight. “Wait, I have hair right now, maybe we shouldn’t.”

Bucky just blinks at you. He can’t believe that you would deprive him of your pussy because of a little hair. “Sweets, I have been a patient man, but I swear to God if you don’t move your hand and let me see my pretty pussy I’m going to lose my mind. You really think I give a shit if you have some fucking hair?”

You just smile sheepishly at him before removing your hand. “There she is. Look at her, so beautiful ain’t she? Yeah, she’s dripping for me, knows who she belongs to.” Fuck, you didn’t expect him to be so enamored with your cunt. “Ya gonna let me touch my pretty girl?”

You gulp before giving a breathy yes and Bucky spreads your legs a little wider and brings his right hand up to your pussy lips, gently tracing them making you twitch and giggle. “Bucky, that tickles.” Bucky smiles and his nose scrunches before his thumb goes from your hole up to your clit. “Fuck, Bucky, rub my clit.”

He just stops his movement, resting his thumb on your bundle of nerves. “This is where I’m in charge, sweets, and I don’t think that was a very polite way of talking to the man who is touching you.” You huff, not used to taking orders from anyone, but you want him to keep touching you so you relent.

“Will you please, rub my clit, loverboy.”

Bucky clicks his tongue at you. “Now, sweets, that didn’t sound very genuine but I’ll let it slide this time because I want to see this pretty pussy soak my sheets.” 

He starts to rub your clit from side to side, making you jerk your hips away. “Don’t fucking DJ my cunt. Circles, Buck, circles. You’re making me lose faith in you, babe.” Heat makes its way up his neck, his selfishness finally catching up to him. He doesn’t say anything, but switches up his method to what you said and you giggle at his confidence wavering.

His little slip up doesn’t slow him down, though, quickly finding the pace and pressure that seems to work best and draws those pretty sounds from your lips. Bucky knows that he isn’t going to be able to get enough of this, of you laid out on his bed consumed by the pleasure he is giving you. 

“You want my fingers inside ya? Cause I wanna feel my pretty girl cum around my fingers.” You can feel the coil in the pit of your stomach, and you can’t remember if you’ve ever gotten to the edge this fast. All you can do is nod, moans and gasps the only sounds leaving your lips.

When his first finger slips inside you, your back arches and somehow the moans leaving you get even sexier and Bucky slips another finger in. “That’s it, pretty girl, suck my fingers in. Doing so good for me, knew you’d treat me so well. Don’t ya think, sweets?” The way he talks to your pussy has you leaking more arousal out.

“Please, Bucky, don’t stop, keep going just like that. M’gonna cum.”

A jolt of excitement shoots up Bucky’s spine. He wanted to see you cum so bad. Using every bit of self control in his body not to speed up, Bucky kept the same pace, curling his fingers to find that spongy patch. “Wouldn’t fucking dream of it, sweets, need to feel my pretty girl cum on my fingers. Promise I’ll feed her my cock after.”

Bucky groans with each clench of your cunt around his fingers, more desperate than you for your orgasm. “C’mon, sweets, give it to me. Can feel your clit pulsing. Be my good girl and give me what I want.” That was all you needed to fall off the edge, trusting that Bucky would catch you. 

Bucky’s sure that the sight of you cumming is the greatest thing in the world. He couldn’t dream of fucking you and not seeing you fall apart for him. He never stops moving his fingers, riding out your orgasm, only relenting when you push his hand away. It takes a few minutes, but you come back down, an open mouth smile on your face, eyes closed and Bucky falls even harder for you.

Blindly, you search for his pants, wanting to see his cock. “Bring him out, Buck, wanna see my new friend.” If it wasn’t for the orgasm he just gave you, Bucky would have been positive that you were drunk off your ass. Doubling over, Bucky cackles, not expecting to hear that come out of your mouth. “Don’t you laugh at me, loverboy, know your cock is huge. Let me meet him. Wanna put him in my mouth.” You give him a lopsided smirk.

“Don’t worry, sweets, you can meet him.” Bucky struggles to hold back his laugh. In all fairness, he did refer to your pussy as her, but the thought of you calling his dick him is hilarious. Nonetheless, Bucky strips the rest of his clothes off and you practically drool at the sight of his dick.

A little over average length, but thick as hell. You don’t think you’ve ever seen a cock that thick and you know he is going to destroy your cunt. Under his cock, his balls were heavy and full, the amount of cum in there building up just for you. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you pull him into you and Bucky has to catch himself with his arms so he doesn’t crush you with his weight. 

You both gasp when his bare cock rubs against your soaking cunt. Bucky has to close his eyes and think about all the assignments he still has to complete to stop himself from cumming on the spot. “Want it inside me, please, Buck, give it to me.” Bucky is near the verge of crying when you grind your cunt on him.

All you want is for him to fuck you until you can’t see straight and so does Bucky, but it takes everything in him to put away, knowing that the next words to come out of his mouth aren’t going to be sexy. “Hold on, sweets. I have to get a condom first.”

You don’t like that one bit, wanting to feel him inside you with no barrier. “Don’t need one, ‘m on the pill.” That has Bucky about to cum all over his sheets and your pussy. He knows that he needs to be responsible, not only for him, but for you too.

“Sweets, I, well, I haven’t been tested since my last partner. I’ve never done it without a condom, but I don’t want to risk it until I get tested.” He hangs his head in shame, yet again his promiscuity is coming back to bite him in the ass. What he wouldn’t give to feel your sopping cunt choke his dick, hell only knows, but his statement seems to sober you up.

“Oh, yeah, that’s probably for the best.” You can’t meet his eyes, the conversation awkward enough even if you weren’t about to fuck. Bucky takes in a deep breath and huffs out, clearly not knowing what to do next so you decide to lighten the mood. “Well, loverboy, you better wrap that bad boy up so you can prove that you can actually fuck me like you said you would.”

You got Bucky to crack a smile before he gave a small smack to your thigh and walked over to his nightstand to get a condom. You wolf whistled when you saw his toned ass. “Damn, baby, you’ve been holding out on me?”

Bucky wheels around and says some clever retort, but you don’t hear it, not when his cock swings around with him, bobbing at the sudden change of direction. Not only that, but with each step he takes, his dick bounces up and down. “Sweetheart, it’s all yours. Stare all you want but close your mouth before I put somethin’ in there.”

Bucky rolls the condom down his length, giving it a few pumps while he admires you laid out on his bed, naked and ready for him to fuck you. Before he climbs back into bed, you stop him. “Wait, loverboy, do a little spin for me, let me see him move.”

Throwing his head back, Bucky lets out a belly laugh, and he just so happens to make his cock and balls bounce. “C’mon, s’all I want.” When he calms down, Bucky relents and circles his hips a few times, his cock, although stiff, moves with his hips and you have to close your legs to try to relieve the ache in your core. “Fuck, need you now, Bucky.”

“Yeah, sweets, you need my cock? Does my pretty girl need to be stuffed with my cock?” No smart retort comes to your mind, only the need to have him fill you up. It’s been way too long since you’ve had sex and you know Bucky’s cock is going to ruin you for anyone else.

“Please, Buck.” Fuck, the way you’re looking at him, with wide, pleading eyes, and a pout on your lips has Bucky’s dick pulsing. He climbs on the bed, in between your legs. “How do you want me?” You’ve overheard Bucky relive his one night stands more than once in class, before he fell for you. He was always adamant that the only positions worth doing were the ones where he could see the girl’s ass, and how boring positions where he could see her face were. 

Bucky stares at you for a second, cupping your face and leaning down to give you a tender kiss. “Want you just like this, sweets, wanna see you.” You swallow hard, willing yourself not to cry at how intimate he’s being. Despite your best efforts, tears well up in your eyes, making Bucky panic.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” His eyes hold so much love, something Bucky never thought he would feel for a partner. You wrap your legs and arms around him, clinging like a koala.

“Not a damn thing, Buck, just love you. Love you so fucking much it hurts.” Bucky feels his heart swell. If this is what it felt like to love and be loved, Bucky would spend the rest of his life trying to keep you, show you how perfect you are, love you as hard as he can and then some.

“Sweetheart, I can’t even put into words how much I fucking love you. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, made me change from the asshole I was.” Bucky had his own tears welling up in his waterline.

“Buck, make love to me, show me how much you love me.” Reaching down, you wrap your hand around his dick, drawing a gasp from his lips, and line him up with your pussy. He presses his forehead against yours, gazing into your eyes as he pushes in, cock stretching your cunt with every inch.

Crashing his lips into yours, Bucky tries to hide his moan, whiny and long, never feeling such intense pleasure. Neither of you can kiss, just gasping into the other’s mouth. When his hips are flush with yours, balls resting against your ass, Bucky has to stop. If he moves he’ll cum; he knows it. He’s never felt like he would cum on the first stroke, but the way your cunt hugs him has him doubting that he’ll last more than a few minutes.

You can’t handle it, the stretch of his cock almost too much, but you needed him to move. “Please, baby, move, need it.” The moan that leaves him is sinful and you involuntarily clench around him.

“Sweets, can’t. Need a minute.” His arms go to your waist, and he pulls you up, groaning when his cock shifts deeper inside you, and sits with his back against the headboard, keeping you wrapped in his arms, bodies pressed so close together you could feel every muscle. Bucky closes his eyes, resting his head in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent and relishing in the intimacy of the moment, with your breasts squished against his chest, feeling every breath you take, loving your soft hands scratching his scalp.

“Do this with all the girls, loverboy?” The breathiness in your voice has his cock pulsing against your walls.

“Never, sweetheart, never. You feel so fucking good.” Bucky sounded like he was about to cry with how hard he was trying not to cum.

You wanted him to fuck you, pussy leaking down his thighs. You decided that if you annoy him enough he might just fuck you dumb. “Guess I was right then, loverboy can’t last in bed. Gonna tell everyone how I broke your cock, how fast you came for me.”

That seemed to strike a nerve and Bucky rolled over, pining you to the bed with his body. You gasped at the quick motion and the jostle of his cock. “Sweets, now is not the time to tease me. Use your mouth for something better.” He could already hear your, like what, so he cut you off before you could get anything out. “Like moaning my name while I fuck you.”

He doesn’t pull his cock out far, wanting to stay as close to you as possible. Pushing back in, he groans, having to will himself not to cum. You feel so good, pussy wrapped around him perfectly. “Sweets, love you so much, never wanna leave this pussy.” You whine, a jolt of pleasure going through your clit at his words. 

“Love you too, Buck. Want to stay like this forever, want you.” It’s Bucky’s turn to whine, rutting into you, the coarse curls at the base of his cock rubbing your clit, the sensation of your breasts pressed to him new to him. 

He can’t help it, you just look too pretty underneath him, grabbing both of your hands in his, lacing them together and putting them above your head and pressing his forehead to yours, staring into your eyes. His lips meet yours, both of your whines and moans mix together. 

The constant roll of his hips is pushing you to the edge faster than ever before. You take one of your hands, still laced with his, and place it over his heart, feeling the erratic beat. The coil in your stomach is curling tighter and tighter. “C’mon, sweets, can feel you clenching ‘round me. Give it to me, cum on my cock.” 

Bucky is doing his best to hold on, wanting this moment to last, to relish in the bubble the two of you have created. His moans get louder, his own orgasm creeping up on him. Wiggling your other hand out of his grasp, you run your fingers over the back of his head, crashing your lips on his before you fall off the edge, eyes rolling back and body quivering, his body the only thing grounding you.

He had to pull out, your pussy almost milking his cum out, but he didn’t want to cum just yet. He wants to make you cum again, this time while he looks at your face, seeing it scrunch up in pleasure. You didn’t seem too happy at him for pulling out, needing him to be as close as possible. “Keep fucking me, Bucky. I need you to cum for me.”

Bucky groans before guiding his cock back home, squeezing his eyes shut when he feels your pussy somehow got even tighter. Not wasting any time, he starts thrusting again, this time much faster, still rolling his hips, hitting your sweet spot every time.

Pulling his body away from yours, Bucky sits up, resting your thighs over his, keeping his dick inside of you, not missing a single thrust. With the new position, he can see your breasts bounce, but more importantly, how beautiful your face looks screwed in ecstasy. “So fucking beautiful for me, sweets. Love the way your pretty tits jiggle, look gorgeous when your getting fucked dumb on my cock, gonna keep you like this all the time.” 

In this position, your clit is being neglected so you reach one hand down, desperate to cum again. Bucky quickly swats your hand away, replacing it with his own. “Ah, ah, I’m gonna make my girl cum. Just want you to lay there and look pretty for me. Can you do that for me?” You just moan in response, thumb rubbing quick circles on your clit, bringing you to the edge again. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

“Yes! I’ll do anything you want.” You feel Bucky’s cock pulsing inside of you, thrusts becoming sloppy and losing their rhythm. “Cum for me, Bucky, fill me up with your cum.” You both know that he is wearing a condom, but the thought of his cum rushing into your pussy, stuffing you to the brim, is enough to have Bucky emptying his balls into the rubber, groaning deep, almost whining your name.

He can’t stop thrusting into you, still rubbing your clit, desperate for you to cum around him. “Sweets, so much fucking cum for you, know you can take it. Fuck, cum for me, milk my cock, get every drop out.” Bucky was right, you looked absolutely divine when you came. At that moment you’ve never looked prettier.

Bucky never felt an orgasm that intense, leaving him weak in the knees. Collapsing onto your chest, not able to hold his own weight up. You huff, air being pushed out of your lungs, but you don’t mind, his weight soothing, helping to bring you back down from the highs of your orgasms. You both lay there, hands stroking each other until you fully come back to reality.

“Gonna pull out, sweets, okay?” Bucky has never had his cock in a girl this long after he’s came, and it was getting too sensitive. Words don’t come to mind and you just nod your head dumbly, both of you hissing at the sensation.

Without a word, Bucky gets up and heads to the bathroom to dispose of the condom and clean himself up. All of a sudden tears well up in your eyes, body cold and craving his touch. He’s been so sweet to you for the past months, proving that he didn’t just want sex with you, but now he’s walking away as soon as you’re done. 

The buzzing of your body goes away, dread filling you. Rolling over, you burrito yourself under the covers, facing away from the bathroom, not able to stop the tears from streaming down your face. It only takes a few minutes, but to you it feels like a lifetime, until Bucky comes back, sliding under the covers himself. 

“So, sweets, what do ya’ want to do? I could go for a bite to eat myself. Don’t know when the last time you ate was though.” Bucky, on the other hand, was basking in the afterglow of the best sex of his life, already thinking about all the things he could do with you, all the ways he could get you to cum for him.

When you don’t respond right away, Bucky thinks you fell asleep. Leaving a kiss to the back of your head, he gets up and puts his sweats on, not bothering with anything else and heads to your kitchen. He doesn’t feel like making a full meal so he decides to just make a quick sandwich and head back to bed after eating.

You burst into full blown sobs when Bucky leaves, assuming that he left your dorm all together, having no idea that he was just outside. How could you have been so stupid to think that he really wanted you? Bucky goes to take a bite out of his snack when he hears your sobs, immediately thinking the worst - he hurt you, did something you didn’t like.

Rushing back into the room, Bucky climbs back into bed, rolling you over without warning. “What are you still doing here? Thought you left?” How could you ever think that he would leave you?

“No, sweets, just went to make a sandwich. What’s going on? Why are you crying?” Bucky has never been so fucking scared in all his life, terrified that he hurt you.

“Thought you left after you got what you wanted. You just left me in the bed after we were done.” Bucky’s eyes widened, not expecting you to say that. He doesn’t know what he did wrong. He’s never stuck around after sex, confused at what’s going on with you.

“Sweets, I’m so sorry that I made you think that, but I don’t know what’s going on. Need you to talk to me. I don’t want you to think I don’t care.” Your bottom lip wobbled, of course he didn’t know about aftercare. It wasn’t his fault that he never had a relationship like this. It meant so much to you that he was asking how to fix his mistake.

“I get really sensitive after sex. It’s annoying actually, but I need to be held and told that you still love me.” You avoid his gaze, more tears making their way down your face, Bucky wiping them away. How could his perfect girl think that her needs were annoying or an inconvenience to him.

“Oh, sweetheart, come here.” Bucky pulls you into his lap, almost petting your hair. “You did so good for me, you know that? I love you so fucking much and nothing is going to change that, okay?” He pulls your head back to look into your eyes.

“It’s just that my last boyfriend said that he couldn’t look at me after sex, said he couldn’t see me the same way.” What in the fuck. 

“Sweetheart, I need you to understand that I know that I’m the fucking luckiest man alive to be able to be with you any way you let me. When I look at you I’m so proud to call you mine.”

You bury your head in his shoulder, letting him hold you and whisper sweet words in your ear. For his first time doing aftercare, Bucky is doing great and soon you come all the way down. Pulling away from him you giggle. “Love you too, Buck. Thank you for that. I know some men don’t care about that. After they get what they want they leave.” Bucky hangs his head in shame, thinking about all the girls he made feel like they were worthless. “I know that you did the same thing, but the fact that you were so willing to change means a lot to me.”

Bucky knows that there’s a lot he has to learn about being in a relationship, but he wants to learn it all to be the man you deserve. He is going to treat you like the goddess you are for the rest of his life, he knows it, already planning on picking out a ring, because he’s gonna love you for a long, long time.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes smut #bucky x you #bucky imagine #bucky smut #sebastian stan x reader #james bucky buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #fuckboy!bucky #bucky x f!reader #bucky fluff

[studioghibelli]

always yours- a joel miller x reader

summary: joel has carried guilt with him his entire life, especially after losing you many years ago. you were young and naive, and joel was cold and distant, a match that simply wasn’t meant to be. (so he thought.) when he and ellie finally make it to wyoming, he’s in for the surprise of a lifetime.

warnings: joel pov for a bit, pining, so so much pining, ellie and joel dynamics, a lot of angst, various flashbacks throughout the story, guilt is one of the main themes of this piece of writing, a rather large age gap that is the center of joel’s guilt, a very brief mention of joel having sex with another woman (tess), post outbreak, and of course- smut. (allusion to m receiving oral, brief female masturbation, unprotected sex, cream pie, f receiving oral, some dirty talk.) mdni

The smell of pine swirled lazily in the air, the promise of a fresh snowstorm making its way through the tree line like the wafting scent of slow baking cookies. The white ground crunched beneath Joel’s leather boots, imprinting the shadow of their soles into the thick wintered earth. With each step his bones ached, shoulders heavy with the fate of the world.

Behind him, a figure trucked lazily behind, giggles occasionally filling his ears.

“What’re you up to back there?”

“Hey, hey. Check this one out, Joel. Why did the can crusher quit his job?” There was a long moment of silence. “Because it was….. soda pressing. Ha! Get it?” Ellie jogged closer to Joel, nudging him with her elbow. “Do you- do you get it, Joel?”

A heavy grunt escaped the man. “Yeah, I get it.” A tooth pick hung loosely from his lips as he glanced down at the girl, a slow roll of his eyes following.

“Want to hear some more?”

“I’d rather not.”

“Okay. Okay… that’s fine.” Ellie cleared her throat, humming as she took in the world around her. “I do have something on my mind. Something real heavy.”

Joel looked at her, his eyes glossed over with a hint of concern. “What is it?”

“Last week I….I-” Ellie paused, sniffling a bit, feigning a look of guilt. “Last week I called someone a watering hole, but I swear I meant well!”

Joel stopped, his jaw clenching momentarily before he met the gaze of Ellie who, in the midst of her terrible joke, was choking back a roar of laughter. He sighed out, shoulder slacking, before giving in to the chuckle stuck in his throat.

“Okay, okay. That wasn’t half bad, I’ll give you that.”

“You’re laughing! I made you laugh! I know you liked that one.”

“I did. Don’t know what’s wrong with me.” Joel shook his head with the hint of a grin teasing against his mouth. “Now quit with the shitty jokes, alright? You’ll miss the scenery.”

Ellie saluted him sternly, giving him a thick nod. “Aye, aye, Captain!” She declared.

Joel sucked in a thick breath.

You were staring at him, with your big, beautiful eyes, gnawing on a stale, unseasoned piece of venison jerky. The flickering flames of the campfire in front of you illuminated your face with glimmering sheens of orange, blanketing the hue of your skin with crimson and gold. A sunset, personified.

He stared at you, long and hard, analyzing every inch of you, taking in your beauty. He wanted to drown in it. The softness of you lips, the apples of your cheeks, the bridge of your nose. Joel wondered how smooth your skin was, how the curve of your waist would feel against his calloused palms, how the heat of your breath would feel fanning against his throat. His eyes dragged down to your small hands, eyeing your manicured nails. What shape would they imprint upon his skin?

“Who the fuck made this shit, Joel?” You guffawed, rubbing your eye with your free fist. “I hate jerky. Tired of it!”

“Well, you’ve just never had good jerky. Before the end times, we had lots of good brands. Jack Link was pretty popular. Was my favorite.” Joel looked at you, a stray curl falling against his forehead as he set the paper bag down. “Ever heard of them?”

“No. Never. When…. all this happened, I was too young to remember. I’ve got no memories from that time, honestly.”

It was a simple statement. One that shouldn’t have made Joel’s stomach clench and turn. Yet it reminded him. It reminded him of his age, of your youth, your naïveté. His chest tightened with the deep feeling of wrongness, the bitter taste of guilt like bile in the back of his throat.

“Don’t, uh, don’t remind me.” Joel mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.

You, none the wiser to the war raging on in his mind, laughed sweetly, saluting him lazily as you finished the last of your venison jerky. “Aye, aye, captain!”

“Hey.”

“Hey!”

“Heyyyy!”

Joel’s neck snapped towards the noise, where Ellie stood still, leaning against the thick trunk of a pine tree. “Huh?”

“Dude, you were just standing there. Like a fuckin’ statue. You okay? I thought you were dying.”

Joel rubbed a scruffy cheek, the thick bristles of hair irritating his fingers as he stared into the distance, taking in a deep breath before resuming his walking. “I’m fine. Let’s jus’ keep goin’, onwards and upwards. Should be there in a day or so.”

“Whatever you say, man.” Ellie kicked a stray pebble in front of her, jogging every so often to meet the long strides of Joel.

In front of her, Joel was lost in deep thought.

He felt the ache of remorse tugging at his heart. A reminder it still worked. A reminder he was still human, still alive and breathing. A human, a man, who hoped and yearned and craved and cried. A man who loved. This remorse, this pain, this guilt, that had corroded away at his soul piece by piece, kept him stable and nailed to the ground. It was a nudge towards the idea that perhaps after all these years of killing, after the taste of blood and haze of destruction, perhaps his heart was still capable of something good, something right.

Joel thought he was right, when he did what he did. Even with the tsunami of tears threatening your eyes, even with the quivering of your lip, the tight furrow of your brows, the embarrassment on your face- even with the sheer look of pain and betrayal that you wore like a masquerade mask- Joel felt that what he did was for the best. That the line in the sand he carved with his own bare hands would help you in the end.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Joel warned, pointing a finger at you. “Don’t look at me like that, girl.”

“Why?” There was a shrill crack to your syllables, a dejected figure emerging from the shadows of your mouth. “Does it make you feel bad? Am I hurting your feelings?”

“This is worse enough as is. I don’t need you flashin’ them puppy dog eyes at me. Ain’t gonna change a thing.”

“So you just used me. Fucked my mouth until you got what you wanted. And now what, Miller? Now what? Gonna ignore me? Gonna start doin’ runs with Tess again like there was nothing between us?” Venom dripped from your incisors as you took a step towards him. Your tears, your sadness, the heavy weight of your heart had been replaced with rage. Burning hot rage. It consumed you until it was oozing from you, spilling from your eyes, your mouth, your nostrils. It was you.

“Yeah. That’s what I’m goin’ to do. ‘Cause you’re right, kid. There wasn’t shit between us.”

Ellie’s humming brought him back to reality, clearing his mind of any thoughts, before she broke the silence with a dreadful question:

“Did you ever have any girlfriends, back at the QZ in Boston?”

“Told you not to ask me any questions like that.”

“I know, I know. But it seems like things with you and…. with you and Tess were weird. I remember what she said, how she never asked you to feel what she felt.” Ellie cleared her throat, gripping ahold of the straps on her backpack. “But, you know, it got me thinking. If someone as cool as Tess liked an old fart like you, some other chicks would have had to, too. Right?”

Joel sighed a deep, tired sigh, rubbing at his temples. “Me and Tess…. we weren’t. We- just. No. Tess and I, there was nothing there.”

Ellie held her hands up in defense. “Okay, okay. Geez, no need to throw a bitch fit, asshole.”

“Watch it.” He grumbled, adjusting the strap of his rifle. “But there was one girl.”

“Really? What was she like? What was her name? What did she look like?”

“Slow down, Ellie, slow down. Way too many questions. I’ll answer one. One! So pick wisely.”

Ellie walked in silence for a moment, rubbing her cheeks in thought as though she had a beard. She nodded with a sense of finality, catching up with Joel’s long strides. “Why did you like her?”

Why did Joel like you? Why did he love you? What was so special about you that Joel, a man concrete in his stoicism, a man lost in his own selfish, distant ways, could crumble at the sheer thought of you? What was so special about your sparkling eyes that made his chest pound? What was so special about your soft voice that made his jaw slack? What was so special about your gentle touch that made his body shiver?

How could a giant such as Joel Miller come crashing down at the feet of someone like you? Someone so pure, so happy, so kind and thoughtful? How could Joel have ever let something like that happen? How could he have been such a fool?

“Hello? Earth to Joel.” Ellie waved her hand in front of Joel’s face, eliciting a groan.

“Um…” He scratched at his chin.

“When I was a little girl all I wanted, the one thing that mattered most to me in the world, was to go to the zoo. My momma used to tell me all these stories. How you could touch the stingrays, feed the giraffes… But you know what I want to see most of all? The gorillas.”

Joel was staring out the window, keeping watch as you shuffled through the drawers of the abandoned room, looking for extra stuff that could be worth smuggling. His eyes scanned the road, but he was mostly interested in listening to you. Quickly and slyly he turned to look at you.

He saw the glimmer glistening through your gaze, the smile lines crinkling ever so slightly at the corners of your eyes as your pretty lips turned up into a big grin. Your face was aglow with passion, your heart pinned proudly to your sleeve. You were the exact opposite of him when it came to that, it only drew him closer, like a moth to a flame.

“The zoo? I went to the zoo. Took my daughter all the time to the one in Austin. Never saw a gorilla though, not up close. Just on the Animal Planet.”

“Animal Planet?”

And there it was, that familiar twinge of guilt. “Yeah. It was a TV Channel.” Joel explained with a grimace, his voice soft and quiet. “You, uh, you find anything good yet?”

“Nah. Just a half empty box of condoms and some bandaids.”

“Condoms? We could use those.” Joel explained, turning to you quickly.

A look of surprise crept on to your face. You hoped you hid the butterflies erupting in your stomach well enough. Surely it was a slip of tongue, you thought- Joel was never forward like that.

Realization soon dawned on his face when his words finally settled in. “Not….. not us, I mean. For- for trading. Could get some ration cards. The, I mean- I would never be…. I- Uh.” A guttural noise of defeat escaped him as he slumped into the wall, groaning deeply against the palms of his hands that his face was now buried in. “Forget I said anything.” Joel seethed through gritted teeth.

“You sure do have a way with words, cowboy.” You teased. A beautiful laugh, one that haunted Joel, escaped your chest as you threw the box of condoms towards him. “There you go, lover boy.”

“Her laugh.” Joel finally broke the silence, his eyes secured to the track in front of him. “She was always laughing. Real happy, curious, always day dreaming. She was….”

“The exact opposite of you.” Ellie filled in, laughing to herself. “Man, she sounds great. And she liked you back?”

“I said one question a day.”

“But-”

“No buts. You can ask another one tomorrow.”

“Well, can you at least tell me her name?”

Before Joel could stop himself, the syllables of your name rolled from his tongue. He hadn’t spoken it out loud in years. He promised himself he wouldn’t, not after losing you. But it escaped him quicker than he could stop it, like a dog running from its cage, sniffing its way to freedom.

Ellie repeated it to herself. “That’s real pretty.” She hummed in approval, and Joel continued walking, his eyes stirring with the burning hot threat of tears.

Angry, regretful, bitter tears.

“Have you seen her anywhere?” Joel was pacing his room, frantically throwing supplies on to the bed. “Did she- did she say anything? Where she was going? What she was doing?”

“Joel.” Tess’ voice rang through the air. “Joel.”

“What? I need to get to her, God dammit.”

“She’s gone, Joel. Said she left four days ago. You won’t be able to find her.” Tess rested a hand on his shoulder as she sat down on the edge of the mattress, looking up at the disheveled, broken man before her.

“This is all my fault.” A single sob racked through his body as he fell down beside her. “Putting a gun to her head and pulling the trigger would have been the exact same thing. She’ll die out there, Tess.” Joel buried his face in his hands as he fell back, jaw clenching in unison with his flaring nostrils as he sat and stewed in the crashing waves of resentment. “She’s going to die, and I won’t be there to protect her.”

Teas traced her hand down the broadness of Joel’s back, taking in a sharp breath. “You’re right. Better move on now, we have work to do. If you’re going to get over it someday, you might as well do it now.” If there was one thing Tess wasn’t going to do, it was sugar coat things. Especially not for Joel fucking Miller. “So get up, stop crying, and do your fucking job. You got it?”

That night Joel drunkenly fucked Tess with her face in the pillow and ass in the air, and the whole time he imagined it was you.

Dusk was soon approaching by the time Joel had rolled out his and Ellie’s sleeping bags. The canvas of the sunset was being torn apart by sparkling stars, the moon illuminating the snow covered trees surrounding them. It was a quiet, peaceful night, shrouded with the sort of yearning and hope that only came once the sun set.

“Can we start a fire? Please, Joel?” Ellie was shivering beneath her sleeping bag, pulling her jacket tighter to her chest.

“Use my bag. I’ll take watch while you sleep.”

“We’ve been walking for like, a hundred hours. You need sleep too. Nobody will find us here. We’re in the middle of butt fuck nowhere.”

“You don’t know that. Now take my bag or stop whining.” Joel’s voice was gruff as he sat against the tree, the light of the lantern illuminating the hardness of his face.

“Okay, geez. Don’t have to be an asshole.”

“Go to sleep, Ellie.”

Joel hadn’t meant to fall asleep. He never liked sleeping, for many different reasons. The lack of control, the possibility of danger, the lurking nightmares about his past. But most of all, he hated sleeping because they brought him dreams of you.

In the beginning, when he had you, dreams of your body, or your face, of your voice- they were all welcomed. He would wake up in his mattress, bathing like a cat in the golden rays of sunshine, and would go about his day slightly less grumpy. Not a changed man, by any means, but how could a man be completely cold and detached after a visit from an angel?

But now these dreams were different. He would wake, not quite remembering them in their entirety, but always feeling the heavy burden of loss thick in his mouth, like phlegm during a nasty cold. For the rest of the day he would think of you, unable to shake the memory of your face away from his mind. You had branded him like a cow at the slaughterhouse.

Joel knew he was yours forever, always yours, despite the pitter pattering footsteps of guilt that followed him around like a needy child.

Tonight, he dreamed of his past memories with you.

“Oh, this is a good one.” Joel hummed out as he turned the record player up ever so slightly. “This is Nat King Cole. My mom used to play his stuff while she was cookin’.”

Sometimes I wonder how I spend the lonely night,

Dreaming of a song. The melody, haunts my reverie,

And I am once again with you, when our love was new.

“He’s got a nice voice.” You quipped. You swung your legs off the desk, walking towards him before extending your hand.

He looked at you like you were crazy. “What’re you doin’?”

“Dance with me.”

“Dancin’ is a dangerous game. I ain’t no good at it.”

“That doesn’t matter. Come on. Just dance with me, cowboy!” Your giggles ignited the air with sparks of comfort, warming Joel’s body through with the familiar pang of affection he so often suffered from when he was around you. He thought on it for a moment before letting out a long sigh.

“Fine. But if you tell anyone about this I’ll… I’ll…”

“You’ll what? Spank me? Come on, just live a little. If it was actually the end of the world none of us would be here. So be alive and human with me tonight, and dance.”

Joel stood, looking down at you as his hands found your body. He rested one palm against the small dip of your waist, his other finding your hand, quickly engulfing it, wrapping around your fingers like a blanket. You swayed, barely shuffling your feet, a smile of contentment washing across your face.

“See?” You hummed. “This is nice.”

He stayed silent, swaying with you to the crooning voice of Nat King Cole. Joel sucked in a sharp breath as your cheek rested against his chest. He ran his hand down to the small of your back, instinctively pulling you closer.

And now my consolation is in the stardust of a song,

Besides the garden wall when stars are bright,

You are in my arms, a paradise where roses grew

Though I dream in vain…

“Joel?” You whispered, craning your neck to look up at him.

His eyelids fluttered open, lips parting ever so softly as his eyes met yours. Chocolate irises, flashes of gold glittering within them, drunk every inch of your face up, memorizing you as thought it was the last time he’d ever see you. “Hmm?”

“Will you kiss me?” The question escaped you before you could think, your eyes slightly widening at the boldness which preceded you.

Joel stopped swaying. He looked down at you, a thumb slowly tracing across your cheekbone.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I- I wasn’t thinking.” Your face was hot with embarrassment, and your hand on his shoulder quickly dropped.

Joel remained quiet as he gently grabbed your fallen hand, moving it back to his shoulder, up towards his face, until you were cupping his cheek. “You really want me to?” He asked softly, curiously, his thumb gently running across your lower lip. You nodded without hesitation.

He leaned forward, the curve of his nose brushing against the tip of yours as he moved both of his hands to hold your face, eyes open and staring in to yours, as though he were trying to make his way through your soul. A stabbing breath hitched in the back of your throat as you gently pressed your body to his, lips mere centimeters away.

“Joel…” You whispered softly.

He paused right before your mouth, eyes now full of remorse, wide and guilty like a petulant child who had just been caught red handed. When he spoke, you felt his moustache tickle your cupid’s bow.

“I… I can’t. I can’t do it.”

“Do you not like me?”

“That’s not the issue, darlin’. It’s the… opposite of that, actually. But I just- I… I gotta go. I’ll stop by tomorrow with some more ration cards.” Joel pulled away from your body, rushing to the door.

“Joel, wait. Joel!” But before you could stop him, he had already left. Your heard his footsteps soon disappear, left with nothing but the scratching vinyl.

In my heart, it will remain

My stardust melody

The memory of love’s refrain.

Joel awoke with a violent jerk, to the bitter smell of coffee and the bright warning of morning light.

“Wakey, wakey sleepy head. Made you some coffee!” Ellie smiled at Joel as she dug her heels into the dying fire, handing Joel the metal cup of brown liquid.

“I told you no fires, Ellie. Someone could see us.”

“It’s fine. It’ll be okay. And if anyone comes and tries to hurt us, I’ll use my super slick Ninja skills I learned on ‘em! Promise! Now drink your nasty bean juice and let’s get going.” Ellie rolled up the sleeping bags as Joel stared into space, sipping his coffee before dumping the rest of it out.

“How long was I out for?”

Ellie shrugged, walking beside him as they made their way towards the open valley. “No clue. But you were muttering to yourself. Woke me up.”

“Was I? Mutterin’ what?”

Ellie looked at him, a small, sad smile playing on her mouth. When she said your name, his stomach turned. That beautiful name. That terrible, awful name that haunted him at every corner. It crept through his mind like a ghost, in and out of the hallway of his memories, refusing to ever leave.

“Weird.” Joel finally said, after a long, thick, uncomfortable silence. “Let’s…. let’s head out now.”

An hour or so had passed, hiking through the forest towards the open valley, before Ellie realized Joel had been whistling. She had never heard him whistle before. And, like always, her curiosity got the better of her.

“What is that?” She asked.

“What’s what?” Joel answered, looking around to try and pin down what she was talking about.

“The song you’re whistling. What is it? I like it.”

“Oh.” Joel hadn’t noticed he had been making any noise. “It’s called Stardust. An old song, before my time even.”

“Who’s it by?”

“There are a few renditions, I can’t remember who did it first. My favorite version was by Nat King Cole.” Joel explained, clearing a makeshift path through the jutting branches and scratching leaves.

“I’ve got my one question, you know.” Ellie stated with a wiggle of her eyebrows. “About her.”

“M’kay. Make it quick.” His voice grumbled out lowly like an over worked furnace, eyebrows tight together as he walked ahead of her.

“Where’d she go?” Ellie finally mustered up the courage to ask the question, slowly looking at Joel’s back. She noticed how it stiffened at the question, and for a moment she regretted ever asking anything.

But Joel’s voice was uncharacteristically soft. “What do you mean?” He finally choked out, clearing his throat.

“Like, if you liked her so bad, why isn’t she with us? You’ve protected me all this way. I-… I can’t imagine the lengths you would go for someone you actually liked.” Ellie joked, trying to lighten the air, the air which had suddenly grown so chewable, so thick and stuffy.

“I don’t hate you, kid.” Joel mumbled, rubbing at his face. “She, uh, she left. While I was out doin’ a run with Tess. Just up and vanished. No note, no nothin’.”

Ellie could feel the pain radiating from Joel, although she couldn’t quite pin point it in his words. He was good at hiding things like that. You don’t spend months with a person and not pick up their habits.

“How long ago was that?” She asked quietly, softly.

“‘Bout three years before I met you.”

“That’s a long time.”

“Yeah.” Joel muttered. “Now, no more questions until tomorrow.”

“Okay.” Ellie grumbled, watching her feet as she walked.

“Joel!” His name tangled through the air, breathless and wanting. His ear was pressed to the door, hand on the door knob. Waiting. Thinking. Pondering.

Your legs were spread open, jeans halfway down your legs, panties to the side as your middle finger lazily rubbed circles in your clit, your free hand kneading against your exposed breast, chest flushed with the hot hand of want. No. Of need.

You couldn’t get the image out of your head. Slick curls pushed back, lips turned into a scowl, bulging arms chopping at the thick log of wood like it owed him something. You remember the rage swirling in his eyes, dark and angry, knitted brows tight and bold. Why was he so god damn hot when he was livid?

“Oh, God. Fuck.” Your whimpers filled his ears, well- his good ear, at least- and Joel felt his jeans beginning to tighten.

Something overtook Joel. Something primal, something instinctual, because before he had a chance to think, he was barging in to your room, mind empty with thoughts only of you, of your pleasure. You jumped with a squeal of surprise, face coated with embarrassment, grabbing a pillow to try and cover yourself up. It was a fruitless attempt, because Joel still saw exactly what he wanted to see. You.

“Joel! Oh God. Jesus Christ….. how-how much of that did you hear?” You wanted to cry. To deteriorate into a pile of rubble would have been your best option. Anything to not have to deal with his gaze. Stern, unreadable, dark. Your heart was slamming against your chest.

“I heard enough.” He whispered, slowly stepping towards you.

You blinked the forming tears of embarrassment away quickly, propping yourself up better on your elbows, finally garnering the courage to look up at him, right in his eyes. A long, deep, sensual gaze steaming from him.

Joel reached for you hesitantly, his hand gently grabbing your knee. A rough thumb traced circles into your skin, smooth and vanilla scented from the lotion he had smuggled for you on a particularly boring run. He watched the way your skin pricked with goosebumps, the way your leg leaned in to his touch. You wanted this. He knew, looking into your eyes, so soft and tender with desire, that he was the only thing on your mind.

“Please,” you whispered, voice shaking in the dimly lit room. “Please touch me, Joel.”

When he finally gathered the courage to lean forward, when those horrible thoughts of shame that so often plagued him had been pushed to the back of his mind, he heard Tess shouting his name in the distance.

When Joel saw Tommy for the first time in ages, he could barely contain himself. He embraced his little brother, tight and hard, feeling the familiar heat of tears welling in the pits of his eyes.

As dusk soon pulled across the sky, Tommy made sure to tell Joel which house would be his. “House 37! Two lefts and a right.” Tommy reminded him, as he jogged away to meet Maria.

It was only until he reached the movie theatre that Tommy realized he gave Joel the wrong number. Oh well, he thought to himself, Joel will figure it out.

The hot water cascaded down Joel’s back, steam dancing through the air, covering him in a warm blanket, the smell of vanilla body wash filling his nostrils. Vanilla. It reminded him so much of you. Of that night, the night he almost had a taste of you. You were so close, yet still managed to remain just out of reach.

Joel was so preoccupied with his thoughts of you, you, you, that he hadn’t heard the front door downstairs open.

• • •

It had been a particularly long and exhausting day for you. You had been posted a mile south in a rundown factory, keeping watch for Raiders as a group of workers focused their abilities on turning the old building into a new extension of your town.

Maria wanted to turn it in to a greenhouse and new horse stable. With the newest colt in town, Shimmer, she figured horse breeding could be a bright part of their future, and if it grew well and but enough, they could extend further out into the wilderness.

Well, that was Maria’s dream. But you had seen how slow these workers went about their business, how they often broke into fights and managed to forget their tasks entirely. How Maria had ever cultivated this place…. well, that was beyond you.

Your thoughts were full of Joel.

Joel, Joel, Joel.

He was a hard worker. Persistent and tenacious, strong and able, stern and forthright- he was everything you wanted in a man. He was just like the knights you would read about, yet he had a twinge of anti-hero that always enticed you, always pulled you in closer.

Thinking about Joel was always draining. You missed his laugh, gritty and low and never that frequent. You missed his hands, well worked and scarred. You missed his eyes, deep and mysterious and full of something that you could never quite pin point.

After these long day dreams with him at the forefront, it left you craving a life you had never gotten to live with him, a life you had never known.

By the time you reached your house it was dark, and your feet ached from the long trek. You felt much older than you actually were. Taking your boots off, you noticed the hallway light upstairs was on.

“Weird.” You whispered to yourself, ultimately shrugging it off as you switched it off, walking to your room.

The door was shut. Double weird. You lived alone, and almost always forgot to shut your door.

The bathroom door was ajar, and you saw steam swirling out of it, yet the shower was off.

“Okay, what the fuck.” You hissed, reaching for your knife. You had already turned your gun in. Hand to hand combat…. well, that would have to do, even if it wasn’t your strong suit.

Behind the closed door of your master suite, you hear someone opening up drawers. “God dammit, Tommy!” You heard a muffled snarl, and your eyes widened.

You dropped the knife, clattering against the carpet with a faint cling, as you brought your hands to your head. No. No. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be him. Surely not.

You rarely spoke to Tommy. You heard he had a brother named Joel here and there, but you never asked. Never gave any part of yourself away. To the people of Jackson City, you were quiet and reserved- kind, always- but haunted by something.

No, by someone.

Your hand was shaking. The metal door knob was cold on your palm, shivers coursing straight down your spine. With a quivering lip, you barely had time to turn the handle before the door flung open, thoughts of self defense and protection miles away.

A figure, huffing with annoyance, stood in front of you. A white shirt stretched taut against a broad chest, sweatpants hanging on a low waist, a bundle of dirty clothes resting in his arm. His arm. His familiar, tanned, muscular arm.

Joel.

Joel. Joel.

The syllable rolled around your brain, head empty as you gathered the courage to slowly look up at the man. His eyes were wide, lips parted in surprise as he stared at you. Both of you stood, in the midst of a proper western stand off, the air stagnant around your bodies.

Neither of you said a word. How could you? What was there to say? You blinked rapidly, rubbing at your eyelids in an attempt to spook the apparition of Joel Miller away. Surely it was a ghost. Perhaps you were finally losing your mind. Perhaps the end of the world had caught up with you.

You went to speak, but a gargled mess of noises were all you could come up with.

Before you had a chance to correct yourself, he had scooped you up in to the tightest hug of your life.

Joel’s left arm was wrapped around your waist, pressing you close to his chest, while his right laid across your back, his large hand pressed into the back of your head. You grasped ahold of him, fingers digging into his skin as you tried to make sense of what was going on.

Before you could catch them, tears were flowing from your eyes, staining his shirt with a puddle of wimpy cries.

“Shh.” He cooed, voice shaking. “I’m right here. I’m here.” Joel held you as though you would vanish if he let go, slowly falling to the floor with you tightly pressed to him. He cradled you in his lap, strong arms secure and steadfast around your body. Joel wasn’t planning on letting go anytime soon.

When you finally looked up, you saw his own cheeks west with the ghosts of previous tears.

“Oh.” You whimpered, touching his face gingerly. “I haven’t seen this face in so long. Look at you.”

“Look at you.” He countered, thumb tracing down the apple of your cheek. “You’ve only grown more beautiful.”

“How… are you…. you’re the Joel Tommy mentioned? How could I have been so stupid.” You whispered, shaking your head.

“How long have you been here?”

“Two years. Managed to find a group of mercs, travelled with them to Kansas City before FEDRA got ahold of them. I was the only one to escape and, somehow, I found myself in this place.” You explained, his face now cupped in your hands.

His lips looked so tantalizing. The thing you wanted most in this world, right in this moment, was for Joel to kiss you. Hard. Deep. Passionately.

Joel looked down at you. He knew that look. Knew those emotions in your eyes, knew the way you looked when desire overtook your being.

He was so tired of being scared, so tired of the shame and guilt that followed him like smoke.

“Can I kiss you?” He finally asked, taking a thick gulp.

You nodded slowly. “Kiss me.”

And he did. It was just as you had always imagined. Soft and sweet, deep and passionate. Your mouths molded together as though they were two puzzle pieces created for each other. It felt right. It felt good. It felt…. perfect. The way you had dreamed it would.

You shifted in his lap so you were straddling him, arms thrown around his neck as you beckoned him closer, his palms pressed firmly into your sides as he held you in place. You both knew you weren’t going anywhere.

You parted your lips as his hungry tongue swept against you, gently exploring your mouth, tasting your spit, the minty residue of your now thrown away gun mixing with his mouth. Joel groaned as you shuffled, and you felt the bulge in his sweatpants where his cock was getting harder and bigger.

You had seen his dick before. Once. When you both stumbled to your room drunk and you had given him a blowjob. The best blowjob of his life, as Joel remembered. He had held you by the hair, barely touching you except a gentle brush of his hand down your cheek after he had finished down your throat. You remembered how his eyes had engulfed you, how you watched as he seared the image of you on your knees into the recesses of his memory.

That was the closest you two had ever got, the farthest he had ever dared to go. And even then, it was selfish of him. He went to bed under the heavy blanket of ignominy, and he swore he would never do it again. He was drunk, Joel assured himself, it wasn’t like he….. loved you or anything. Right?

But now, with his tongue searching your throat and his hungry hands feeling their way around his skin, with the way your clothed bodies moved in harmony against the scratchy carpet of the hallway floor, what else could it be? Lust? No. Lust doesn’t last like this. It sizzles away at the prospect of someone new. No, no. You both knew what it was. Love. But you both too fearful to admit it.

“Joel.” You whispered against his mouth. He opened his eyes at the sound of his name, the way it so sweetly rolled off your tongue.

“Yes?”

“Take me to bed.” Your words stuttered against themselves as you took in a heavy heave of breath. “Take me to bed… and make me yours.”

Joel swallowed the tight lump dangling at the back of his throat. He had two options. One, say no and push you away. Two, give in to his deepest desires and fall further into this love he had tried so hard to forget.

The last time he chose one, you ran half way across the country.

He was a smart man, Joel. He knew exactly which one to pick. No more would he run.

He scooped you up into his arms wordlessly, carrying you to your neatly made bed. Your hair splayed across the white pillows, your doe eyes staring up at him, full of yearning, full of want.

You watched with hawk-like eyes as he slid his shirt off, moving to do the same before Joel stopped you.

“No. I want to undress you myself.” You swallowed thickly at his command, nodding as your neck grew hot with desire.

When Joel was left with nothing but his boxers on, you drunk his image in. A small tuff of hair rested above the hem of his underwear. His belly was soft, and stray curls of hair dotted across his broad chest. His shoulders were strong, broad, welcoming.

You looked up into his face, eyelashes fluttering.

He had a few more wrinkles, a lot more gray in his hair. There were a few more scars etched into his skin, a darker tint to his eyes. He had aged. But so had you.

You had always liked your men older, anyways.

Joel Miller was the man of your fucking dreams, and he was standing nearly naked in front of you.

“Up.” He motioned for you to sit up and you did without hesitation. A smile crossed his mouth as he cupped your cheek. “So good for me.” Joel murmured, slowly peeling your shirt off.

“For you.” You whispered with finality.

He nodded, eyes twinkling with….. happiness. Joel worked the lace of the leather boots you wore, carefully pulling them off your feet before sliding his hands towards the zipper of your jeans. He watched your face as he slowly unbuttoned them, stripping them from your legs. He watched the way your lips parted with desire, the way your eyelids shut as the feeling of his hands grazing your skin.

“Look at you.” Joel whispered, and you met his steaming gaze. “So beautiful.” He learned forward, pressing a kiss to the hem of your underwear. “Lay back for me, honey.”

You did as you were told, shivering as his warm hands pried your legs apart. He stared at your clothed pussy, the patch of wetness showcasing your arousal. Joel chewed on his cheek as he drunk the image in, taking in a sharp breath as he discarded your underwear.

And there you finally were. Open and exposed, laid bare for him, and only him. Joel slid down on his stomach, inching his way towards your cunt as he reached forwards, using his thumb to slowly trace down your outer lips.

You shuddered, taking in a deep breath of as your hands snaked to his head, running your fingers through his thick curls, watching his finger slowly move. You saw him spread you open, you pink, wet pussy on display for his searing gaze.

“Ain’t that a sight.” He hummed out. “This all for me?” His voice was smug. He knew. And you knew he knew.

“All for you.” You admitted, pushing a stray curl out of his eyes.

“Bet you taste real nice, too.” Joel leaned forward, extending his tongue as he swept it flat across your clit. This made you whimper out, your grip on his hair tightening. “Just as I thought. Sweetest thing I ever had.”

Your head fell back onto the pillows as he wrapped this lips around your swelling clit, sucking softly at the button. He was holding back, his movements teasingly gentle. You were squirming for him, nails digging into his scalp, your breath begging for me.

Joel pulled back, much to your dismay, and rubbed his middle finger against your entrance. He slowly pushed it in, grunting quietly.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ tight, honey. Can’t wait to feel you stretched against my cock.”

“Oh, God. Joel, please.” You murmured, watching as he resumed his tongue against your clit, swirling and flicking. Your thighs were shaking on his shoulders, where you hadn’t even realized you had propped them up.

Joel chuckled against your pussy, savoring the sweetness of your arousal, letting it coat his tongue like sugar. He lapped at your clit, middle finger slowly hitting up against that spot, coaxing you closer towards an orgasm.

“If-if you don’t stop Joel, I-I’m gonna cum.”

“Babydoll, that’s what I want.” He responded smugly, sucking harder at your clit.

“B-but I want to cum on your cock. I-I’ll be too sensitive.” You explained, hips grinding as your fingers pulled at his curls even more.

“We’ll see about that.”

Joel added his ring finger into your pussy, pushing and pumping into you, wanton noises of filth filling your ears. You cried out his name, right on the brink of orgasm, as Joel continued his same movements, never daring to stray or pause.

“Joel. Joel! Oh, fuck. Joel. God dammit. Joel, I’m cumming!” You were sure the whole neighborhood could heard but you weren’t half fussed about that at the moment. All you knew was his mouth was drawing you in to the most earth shattering orgasm of your life.

Tears pricked your eyes as he rode out your climax, his mouth never leaving your clit. His fingers slowed down to a halt, yet his mouth never left your cunt.

You whimpered, trying to push him away from your sensitive pussy, but Joel didn’t let up. He grabbed your thighs, relishing in your moans as he made sure to lick up every drop of your cum, every inch of your wetness. He wanted the flavor of your pussy to be stuck in his mouth for the rest of his life.

You collapsed onto the bed as he slowly pulled away, leaving a hot kiss to each thigh.

“Was that nice?” Joel asked smugly, wiping off his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Shut up, asshole.” You teased, a soft laugh escaping you. “Oh.” You murmured to yourself once you saw the bulge tenting at his boxers. You reached forward, gently grabbing it with your small hand. “Looks like we should do something about this.”

Joel hissed in a sharp breath of air, watching with intent as you tugged off his boxers. He kicked them off, his thick cock slapping against his stomach. He was thick, long, sexy- his cock could have been in a porn magazine, to be frank.

“Yeah, we should do somethin’ ‘bout this.” He had climbed on top of you, hands cupping your head as you glanced up at him with a tantalizing look stuck deep in your eyes.

“Yeah, we should. Fuck me, cowboy.” You whispered, resting your hands on his cheek. “Fuck me like you missed me.”

“I did miss you.” Joel admitted, almost shyly.

“I know.” You ran your hand through his hair, feeling the tip of his cock at your entrance. You sucked in a soft breath of air as he slowly began filling you up, allowing you the time to grow accustomed to the way he felt inside you.

“‘Course you do.” He snorted through gritted teeth, filling you completely up to the hilt.

You groaned softly, wrapping your arms around him as you held him to your chest, smiling up at him softly. “Feels so good.”

Joel buried his face in your neck, slowly moving his hips. “You’re so fuckin’ tight. So fuckin’…. so fuckin’ good for me. A god damned dream.” His words were hot, guttural, melding in to your skin like paint on a canvas.

You shuddered, dragging your nails down the length of his back, resting them on his ass. His movements grew harder, wilder, every inch of his throbbing cock deep within your walls.

“Christ, Joel.”

He groaned against you, propping himself up on his palms to watch your face. His nose brushed against yours as he leaned forward, lips pressing to yours in a burning kiss, igniting your body aflame.

“Love how you say my name.” He whispered as he pulled away from your mouth.

“Joel.” You mumbled, a teasing grin cascading on to your face:

With a smile of his own, Joel’s hand traced across your neck, down your shoulders, fingers tickling the skin of your arm before he reached your hand. Joel held it in his own, lacing your fingers tightly within his, thumb brushing over your knuckles.

His thrusts were steadier now that your eyes were on each others, hand held tightly in his own as he took the feeling of you in. The way your pussy clenched around him, the way your body felt tight on his. He pulled away from you, sitting back a bit as he held your hips, fucking himself in to you.

“Touch your clit.” He ordered, eyes darkening. You swallowed, lowering your hand to your pussy, where you did as you were told. You shivered. “Rub it.” He whispered, voice soft.

You rubbed it, your middle finger circling your swollen clit tenderly.

“You’re going to cum one more time for me. Okay?”

You nodded obediently, gently placing your free hand on to his arm. “Okay.” Your voice was sweet, angelic. It made Joel’s cock twitch, an animalistic grunt soon following.

He looked on with hungry eyes as you played with your pussy, stretching it out for him. You both watched the way his cock filled you up, the way the lips of your pussy strained against him. You whimpered at the sight, wondering how something so big could even possibly fit inside you.

You resumed your masturbation, fingering at your clit as he pumped in to you.

“That’s a good girl, rubbing your clit for me. Such a good fuckin’ girl.” He murmured, eyes glossed over with desire.

“Gonna cum for you again.” You warned, hips bucking.

“Yeah? Cum on my cock, honey. Paint it with your pretty cum.”

That’s all it took to send you over the edge. Your back arched off the mattress as your second orgasm washed over you, vision blurring white. Joel grabbed ahold of you and pulled you up, legs wrapping around his waist as he held you, pumping up into you as you shivered and shuttered against him. You chanted his name like a mantra, crying out against him.

You were eye level now, and Joel has you by the jaw, forcing your eyes to meet his.

“I’m gonna cum inside you. Gonna fill this little pussy up.” He whispered, forehead resting against yours.

“Cum inside me.” You begged, hands moving to his shoulders as he fucked your body on to his cock.

Joel groaned, primal noises filtering out as his dick convulsed inside of you, his hot cum painting the inside of your cunt. You moaned at the feeling of being properly full, grinding against him gently as you sat on his lap, your arms holding each other close and tight.

When his orgasm had subsided and you both fell against the soft mattress, you were still entangled with one another, his dick still stuffed inside you.

You stared at one another as though you had never known anyone else, eyes searching, reaching for the soul, sparkling with love, swimming with adoration.

His fingers traced down your back, resting on your thigh as he brought you closer.

“I’m sorry I left.” You whispered, your hand resting on the side of his neck. “I… I didn’t know what to do with all of it.”

“All of what?” Joel asked, voice deep and quiet.

“All of the love I had for you.” You sniffled, nuzzling your cheek into his. “Have.” You corrected.

“Have?” A smirk was tugging at his voice.

You took in a deep breath, bravely nodding your head. “Have. I…. you know I do.”

Joel rested his head against yours, looking down at you. “I’ve always known.”

A moment of silence fell over your bodies.

“I don’t think it’s goin’ anywhere, either.”

“Good.” Joel whispered, his dark eyes meeting yours. “I want it. All of it. ‘Til the day I die.”

“It’s yours, Joel. Always yours.”

#joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller #joel miller x you #the last of us fic #joel miller smut #joel miller the last of us #joel miller x y/n #joel the last of us #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #tlou #joel tlou

[katiexpunk]

Fuck Me, Fill Me

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!Reader | W/C: ~4K | Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Summary: Accidents happen all the time — people fall, knives slip, condoms break. You spent years successfully avoiding one. Except things are different now, you're ready for more. Your husband Joel is more than happy to oblige.

Warnings: Joel has one mission in this one -- knock you the fuck up (if that's not your thing, kindly move on). Heavy on the breeding kink. No age gap is mentioned (make it your own). So much dirty talk. Fingering. Dry humping/grinding. Praise kink. Size kink. Unprotected P in V. Rough sex. Semi-public sex. Sex in front of a mirror. Multiple creampies. No use of Y/N, no use of daddy. TLOU au. Reader has no physical descriptions except hair (no type or color) long enough to hold on to. Let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: I have no excuses for this one except that I have Joel brain rot and baby fever. Shoutout to the Capital One Lounge at IAD for the idea. Written on a plane.

Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Notifications

Accidents happen all the time — people fall, knives slip, condoms break. 

It’s inevitable, really. A known fact of life. Call it Murphy’s law, bad luck, or just plain stupidity… 

You’ve spent the majority of your teens and 20s successfully avoiding an accident. 

If it can happen, it will happen your superstitious aunt used to say, and you were a believer. 

Lord knows you've had more than enough evidence in your life to back up her words. From the tummy ache after eating way too many cherries, to the conspicuous brown stain that ruined your pristine white blouse. A blister on your heel from shoes that were supposed to be 'broken in' but never quite were, and the painful crack in your skin that followed. Proof was everywhere, and you learned to expect the unexpected.

You hold tight to that belief, while Joel does the same to your hips, fucking you within an inch of your life in the airport lounge bathroom.

But how you both ended up in this position was no accident. 

++++

It never seemed like the right time—you had so much more to explore, achieve, and experience. Becoming a mother would complicate everything; at least, that's what you convinced yourself. You were content to rely on that little orange pill each day, despite its own set of side effects, because it kept your options open. 

You weren't sure you'd make a good mom anyway. Your own mother certainly wasn't a shining example, and you had no reason to think you'd be any different. You couldn't even keep a cactus alive—how could you possibly care for a child?

But something changed not long after you and Joel got married. Maybe it was maturity slowly finding its way in, like warm honey filling the spaces you once closed off. It softened you to the idea of chubby cheeks and tiny fingers, gentle coos, and quiet lullabies sung in the deep southern drawl that had become so familiar.

Initially, you weren't sure how Joel would take the news, but when you told him you'd reconsidered, his reaction was beyond anything you'd expected. He was over the moon, filled with an urgency you'd never seen in him before. It was like you'd handed him the key to his deepest desires, and he was eager, almost desperate, to turn it and bring new life into your world, yours and his.

He made it clear just how eager he was when he took you in his arms and twirled you around the kitchen in joy. Then, without missing a beat, he bent you over the counter, yanked down your jeans, and made his intentions unmistakably clear. He fucked his cum so deep inside of you that night that you felt the warm dribble of him the next morning. 

++++ 

Good things come to those who wait.

The words seem almost lifeless as they peer back at you, the paper they're printed on showing signs of age and Scotch tape keeping it glued to the break room wall above the microwave. The optimism they once held has faded, leaving behind nothing but cynicism and wear.

Yeah. Right. 

The shrill beep of the microwave snaps you back to the present, your shoulders tensing. You shake off your irritation, clutching the warm coffee that’s been reheated three times, its heat barely reaching the chill of your underlying pessimism. It’s a small comfort, but enough to soften the ache of disappointment that nags at you every month when hope fizzles out.

Back at your desk, you bury yourself in work, flipping through emails and juggling various applications. Headphones in, you’re almost lost in your own world when a notification on your phone pulls you back. It's your cycle tracking app, reminding you that you're due to ovulate in a couple of days. But wait—

No, no, no. You quickly count the days in your head, then scramble to open your work calendar. The schedule's a blur until your eyes land on the words "Work Trip: Jackson, Wyoming." They jump off the screen, almost mocking you. Looks like timing won't be on your side this month. Unless —

Would it be too ridiculous to change an entire work trip just so you could make love to your ridiculously hot husband, and let him fill you again and again? You think not, but you know your boss might say otherwise. 

You spend the rest of your workday figuring out Plan B. The irony is not lost on you that you’re seeking out an entirely different kind than you used to. 

++++

As you settle into the couch, your legs draped across his lap, he begins to massage the soles of your feet in that soothing way that sends a ripple of warmth up your spine. You can't help but glance at his side profile—the elegant slope of his nose, the chiseled cut of his jaw, and the effortless curls of his salt-and-pepper hair that rest at the nape of his neck. He's undeniably handsome, a sight that never gets old.

His touch spreads a slow heat across your skin, your stomach fluttering in response. It's always been this way—the world could be crumbling outside, but with Joel, in your shared cocoon, you feel entirely at ease, wrapped in safety and affection.

“You're really gorgeous, you know,” you murmur, almost too quietly to be heard. You swirl the wine in your glass and meet his gaze as you take a sip.

“Nah, that's you, sweetheart,” he replies with a wink, his touch transitioning to featherlight kitten caresses as his fingers trace a path up your shin. He's not trying to seduce you, not really,  but his touch and the intent gaze he holds on you are enough to ignite a slow burn under your skin.

You relax into the cushions, your head sinking back into the pillow, reveling in this moment. When he pauses, even for a second, you squirm, and he chuckles softly. “Such a needy little thing, aren't cha?” he teases, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he resumes his gentle strokes. “Mhm, sure am,” you hum, your eyes closing as you melt into the sensation of his skin on yours.

He slowly journeys upward, callused palms gliding along the smooth skin of your thigh, alternating between soft strokes and firm squeezes. Each touch seems to awaken a deeper need within you, and you're all too aware of the growing bulge beneath your calves, a silent but potent reminder of the desire simmering between you. It's enough to make you ache for him, crave his closeness, the kind of closeness only he can provide.

You lift your head, and he's already adjusting, his broad frame looming over you. He locks eyes with you as he takes the wineglass from your hand, placing it on the coffee table with care, then shifts his full attention back to you. You push your hips upward, meeting his, and he presses down just enough to make it clear that he’s in control, his body holding you firmly but without discomfort. You know he’s got you right where he wants you.

Your eyes meet his, and the intensity in his gaze leaves no doubt—this is happening. He props himself up on one forearm, his other hand tangling through your hair, his knuckles brushing against your cheek with a tender touch. He thrusts his hips into you with more urgency, his lips descending to capture yours, drawing out a soft moan from deep within you.

“Fuck sweetheart, feel what you do to me?” he groans, pressing his lips harder against yours. He tastes the wine on you, and your tongues intertwine, each movement slow but deliberate. You work your arms free from your sides and slide your hands into his hair, tugging gently, your nails grazing his scalp. The deep groan that escapes him tells you he's feeling everything—the pull, the scrape, the heat. It rumbles from his chest, reverberating through you, and it's intoxicating.

With your lips pressed firmly to his, he captures your bottom lip between his teeth, giving it a teasing bite as he thrusts against you. The rough denim scrapes against your inner thighs, and he slots himself perfectly between your legs. His mouth leaves yours, tracing a path of soft kisses down your jawline, lingering at that sensitive spot just behind your ear before he pulls the lobe into his mouth. You moan, fingers tangled in his hair, while your other hand explores the broad expanse of his back, craving the feel of him, unable to get enough.

“Joel,” you whimper, his name almost a question on your lips. 

He doesn't pause, thrusting with just the right pressure, almost ignoring your plea. You move your lips to his shoulder and whisper, “I’m ovulating.”

That makes him stop. He props himself up on one forearm, his free hand on your ribs, his intense gaze locking onto yours. His eyes darken, pupils eclipsing the rich brown you know so well, and he groans deeply. Fuck. 

“Yeah, sweetheart? Mmm, big mistake telling me that, now I’m just going to pump you full of my cum all night, gonna fuck you again and again, keep you so full of me that it’ll have no choice but to stick this time.” 

You whimper at the thought, and his words go straight to your already wet core, your pussy fluttering around nothing, practically begging to be filled. 

You want him so bad, but right now, he wants you more — wants every part of you, wants to change you forever. His head dips back to your neck, and he's practically grinding into you, the pressure so intense it feels like he's already fucking you through your clothes. His beard rasps against your cheek, leaving a trail of red marks as he works his way down to your chest, hastily undoing buttons, uncovering your breasts, and teasing your nipples to hard, eager peaks.

It would almost be embarrassing how turned on you are right now if it were anyone but him, how easily he can fluster you, turn you into a babbling mess. 

“Well, not right now, but I am next —” you start to say, but quickly lose your train of thought as his whole hand comes down to cup your sex and the feel of his palm pressing against your dripping center. 

“Sorry darlin’, what was that?” He asks, doing little to hide the smug tone behind his voice, obviously pleased with the effect he has on you.

“I am next week, while I’m supposed to be in Jackson for work,” you manage to get out, the words coming out soft, a barely there thought, your attention mostly on the sensation of his thick finger that has now curled its way deep inside of you, your panties pushed to the side as they should never have been there in the first place, not with him in the room. 

“Come with me,” you ask, your words a tad breathless as he adds another finger to your dripping center, your slick coating them completely, and when he doesn’t answer, you’re not sure he heard you behind the haze of his arousal, the blood thrumming through his veins. Not that you can blame him, it’s so hard to fucking think, to breathe, to string together a rational thought that isn’t dirty when you’re together like this. 

“Gotta feel this pussy first,” he rasps, the words slightly muffled against the tenderness of your breast. His words sober you for a brief second, as you playfully push against him in protest. 

"That's not what I meant, and you know it," you laugh, and he can't suppress the goofy grin spreading across his face. He loves this—the playful banter, the way you bring out his lighter side, the perfect blend of passion and humor that flows between you. It's always been like this, effortlessly flirty, endlessly fun. You’re the perfect combination of sexy and cute, and better yet, you’re all his. 

“Alright baby, I’ll come with you, on one condition,” he says, adding a third finger, and the stench of him is intoxicatingly delicious, perfect, and intense in the best way. You already feel so fucked out, you’re not sure how he’s managing to find the will to set fucking conditions right now, but still, you humor him — 

“Conditions, huh?” You moan as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you, the pads of his fingers grazing at the soft spongey spot inside of you that makes you see stars. 

“Yeah, sweetheart, conditions,” he says, nipping at your chin. “You’re gonna be the good girl I know you are and come all over my fingers, and then I’ll make sure that you’re full of me all week, whenever you want it baby, I’m all yours,” he rasps, his breath coming a bit more ragged now at the thought of your proposition and his. 

His fingers are still deep inside of you, he positions his wrist just right and brings the pad of his thumb to your clit. Your slick, combined with his filthy fucking mouth, and his thick cock pressed against you, creates the perfect conditions for the inevitable. He’s never not made you come, and you sure as hell know he’s not about to change that narrative now. 

If it can happen, it will happen. 

“Come on pretty girl, show me how pretty you come on your husband’s fingers,” he says, not really asking, but rather ordering in the tone that lights every nerve in your body on fire with arousal. 

The warmth in your lower belly spreads outward, wrapping you in a blanket of pleasure. Your limbs tingle, your vision blurs, and your toes curl as the intensity builds. For a split second, everything goes hazy, and you let go, surrendering to him completely. He takes control, guiding you through the waves of ecstasy, pulling you into a bliss that only he knows how to reach.

“So good for me, sweetheart. You are so perfect.” 

He makes you come once more soon after and then fucks you deep and slow. It’s all whispered praises in your ear, a firm grip on your hips, and his cock barely leaving your cunt before he’s slamming back into you, desperate to keep the tip of him as close to your cervix as possible. 

Come with me, you moan, and he knows exactly what you mean this time. 

“Shit, baby, I can feel you squeezing me, taking me so good —” his words break with a moan as you come for the third time, falling apart on his cock, before he adds “gripping me so goddamn tight.” 

His thrusts slow and he buries himself to the hilt inside of you, and paints your insides in thick ropes of cum, holding your gaze as he throbs inside, not daring to move and risk any of his spend coming out before he wants it to. 

He plants a soft kiss on your lips and tells you that you’re going to look even more gorgeous with his baby inside of you. 

++++

The delayed flight to Jackson was just another reminder of life's unpredictability.

What started as a simple 30-minute delay quickly turned into an hour, then two, and now you're both three hours past your original departure time. 

You find yourselves in one of the newer airport lounges, sitting in overly posh chairs. It's surprisingly uncrowded given the chaos that usually comes with airport delays. Your luggage is safely tucked away in the lockers, your bellies are full from the free snacks, and the irritation from earlier is fading thanks to the complimentary drinks. The ambiance is unexpectedly chic. Even the bathrooms feel upscale—private, enormous mirrors, fancy soap, and paper towels so luxurious they might as well be hand towels.

Joel is deep into a well-worn Western novel, its cover frayed and spine cracked from countless readings. You're scrolling through an article about the best positions for conceiving, smirking when you realize you and Joel have tried most of them, and then some. Just as you're in the middle of your read, your cycle tracking app sends a notification—you're at peak fertility, starting now. Have fun! ;) 

Shit. 

Who knows when you'll actually make it to your hotel room in Jackson tonight? You glance up from your phone, stealing a look at Joel. He's always handsome, but there's something about him in his glasses—the way the frames sit on the bridge of his nose, the slight furrow in his brow as he focuses on the words in his book. It's endearing how he still reads with such intensity, even though you know he's revisited these same pages countless times.

Your pussy flutters and aches at the sight, giving you a cheeky idea. He did say you could have him whenever you wanted. 

You clear your throat, hoping to pull Joel's focus from his book, but he doesn't seem to notice. You try again, this time a bit louder, and all you get is a distracted, "You okay, sweetheart?" without him even glancing up.

You know you’ll need to be more direct to capture his attention.

"I'm going to use the restroom," you say, and he nods, eyes still on the page. Once inside, you leave the door unlocked and hike up your dress, exposing your bare breasts. You pinch your nipples between your thumb and forefinger until they harden, then push out your chest, angling your smartphone for the perfect shot. The result is a provocative selfie that you know will make him put that book down.

You attach it to a message for Joel and quickly type out your request — come knock me up in the bathroom, Cowboy. 

He’s joining you in the bathroom faster than you thought he would, careful to avoid any curious eyes or draw attention to the fact that he’s about to absolutely wreck his wife.

Once inside, he locks the door behind him and grabs your waist, guiding you back until your hips hit the counter's edge. His hands roam over your body, lifting the hem of your dress until it's bunched around your waist. He kisses you with a desperate hunger, as if he hasn't had you in years.

"You sure you want to do this here, sweetheart?" he groans against your lips, shifting between playful nips, gentle kisses on your cheeks, and heated sucks at your jawline. The anticipation in his touch is palpable, but he's still checking to make sure this is what you want.

“Never been more sure of anything in my life except for the day I married you. Please fuck me, Joel, need to feel you stretch me out” you say, your words crossed between a whimper and a plea. 

God, just when he thought you couldn’t get any more perfect. 

“Yeah? My girl wants me to fill up her tight little hole,” he teases, already knowing the answer. He moves his hand to your dripping core and lets out a deep groan when he discovers you’ve already removed the barrier of your underwear for him. 

“Fuck baby, I’d do anything to taste you right now, wanna hear all those pretty noises you make and the way my name sounds when you moan it for me,” and you soften more under the heat of his words, letting your mind drift to thoughts of how good it feels when his head is between your legs, gently wringing orgasm after orgasm out of you like it’s his fucking job. 

“Gotta make this one quick, though. Can you be quiet for me, sweetheart?” He asks, and all you can do is nod. 

"Good girl—c'mere, turn around," he instructs, guiding you with his hands until you've spun around, your hips pressing into the sink. His hand travels down your spine, making you arch toward him slightly, and he bends you over even more. In the mirror, you see him behind you, his eyes locked on yours as he quickly unbuckles his belt and lowers his jeans to mid-thigh. The anticipation is electric as you watch him in the reflection, knowing exactly what's coming next.

He spits into his hand and jerks himself, all the while holding your gaze, admiring the way your breasts are pressed up against the counter, perky and perfect. His cock twitches at the thought of what they’ll look like all swollen and full of milk. 

He lines himself up against your wet and waiting hole, holds your hips steady with one hand, and gathers your hair in his fist with the other. He gently tugs it so your chin is angled up, eyes even straighter looking into the mirror. He loves watching you take it. 

“You’re gonna watch as I fuck you, sweetheart,” He rasps as he presses himself into you in one stroke. You’re so fucking wet, your greedy cunt accepts him easily, despite his size. Like it knows what it wants, and what it needs. There’s a dull delicious sting at the intrusion.

“Oh my god, Joel, you’re so bi—” You break off in a moan as he pulls out and then slams himself into you deep and hard. 

“God damn, look at you, my perfect fucking girl. Taking me so well, like this cock was made for you, huh baby?” His voice is firm, but quiet, just above a whisper. He’s not wasting time, he sets a punishing pace, and all you can do is let him use you. 

“Fuck me, fuck me, fill me, fill me” you cry out, and he brings his hand to cover your mouth. 

“What’d I say about being quiet, baby?” He holds you like that. You slip your hand between your thighs and rub your clit, a dangerous combination when he’s fucking you in this position. You come so fast that you think it might be a record. The tightening of your cunt has him on the precipice of his release.

“You’re fucking mine,” he growls, fucking his cum into you over and over, using every drop of him to give you what you want.

It might not stick this time, hell, it might not stick next time, but one thing is for certain — Joel will keep you full and fucked either way. 

Part 2

A/N Continued: Thank you so much for reading! On a side note, my engagement here has been really low lately. :( As much as I'd love to say I don't care about the notes, I won't lie and tell you I don't need them for validation. If you like this, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging. I'll love you forever.

Tagging some moots for visibility (lmk if you want to be removed if the subject matter isn't your thing. No hard feelings!) @endlessthxxghts @syd-djarin @auteurdelabre @morning-star-joy@theoasisofthings @chulopascal @morallyinept @sweetercalypso @xdaddysprincessxx @burntheedges @punkshort @pedrostories @bastardmandennis @milly-louise @ghostwritesthings @josephquinnswhore @drunk-and-capable @survivingandenduring @hotgirlbedtimescenarios @ohheypedrito @joeldjarin @nerdieforpedro @amyispxnk @paleidiot @ghostwritesthings @kulekehe @darkheartgatita @goldenhxurs @javiscigarette @ro-nahime-things @gwendibleywrites @missladym1981 @morgaussy

#joel miller smut #joel miler x fem!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #breeding k1nk #joel miller the last of us #joel miller one shot #pedro pascal character #pedrohub #pedrostories #joel miller #joel miller fanfic

[reiderwriter]

Flirting with the FBI

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word count: 7.1k

Request: Hiiii!! This is my first time requesting anything on this app, but Spencer reid has me in a chokehold. So, I was thinking that the reader is the unsub, and she's like this very good hacker who keeps teasing the fbi cause she's bored or something so she keeps sending hints about who she is or where she is but they keep getting nothing on her. And all of this just keeps getting on Spencer's nerves. And so when Spencer finds her, she keeps teasing him and acting like a brat so he "disciplines" her and takes her roughly and maybe a bit of spanking???

Warnings: a lot tbh - mentions of case details, mentions of domestic violence and police brutality, reader is a possible target of a serial killer, bad tech skills from the writer who really couldn't be bothered to do anymore research than the actual CM writing team, rough Dom Spencer, brat reader, sexual innuendo, semi-public sexual play, spanking, dirty talk (good girl, brat etc.) fingering, raw sex/creampie, aftercare, slight dacryphilia (crying kink) and bimbofication.

A/N: My last fic was a heartwarming family fic, and now I'm back to being depraved. Apologies to anyone here for cute fluff 😭

Masterlist

You always thought hacking the FBI mainframe would be hard, but it's one of the easiest things you've done all week.

If they were going to sit around doing nothing while a serial killer ran around in their own backyard, then obviously, they needed a helping hand. Or a helping poem or two.

Getting into their security camera feed was just an added bonus.

You grabbed your bowl of popcorn and settled into your desk chair, clicking open the window to find which room exactly they would gather in to freak out together.

You made sure to get their attention, blacking out all the computers in the office as they ran to a backroom where a very distraught looking blonde woman was sat. She was evidently the go-to tech support of about six agents who quickly ran to her room to figure out what the issue was. It was show time.

“There once was a serial killer,

Who ate boys and girl both for his dinner,

He cut, diced and slashed,

Left the feds quite abashed,

So I leave this message to be clearer”

The poem scrolled onto their screen on a loop, flashing in and out quickly before you let the computer systems relax again.

You thought they'd panic, scramble for a pen or paper or something, but none of the agents moved until the flashing was over.

You watched curiously as an older man took charge of the scene, likely directing the woman at the desk to figure out who you were, where you lived, and what your social security number was. She got to work quickly, and he moved on to the other agents.

None of them had written the poem down. None had even taken a picture, but one man started talking, and for a while, all eyes and attention in the room were focused solely on him. His hands moved as his mouth did, as if he were casting a spell over the room as he spoke. Even more intriguing was the fact that he rarely seemed to make eye contact with any of them as he spoke. He wasn't conversing or giving directions. He was simply talking.

And you really wanted to listen in.

The younger man began to walk and you watched him quickly pace over to a whiteboard, switching from one feed to another as he made his way there, and pick up a pen before notating the poem perfectly.

Whoever this man was, he was making you feel more and more excited about the game of cat and mouse you had begun with the FBI. You weren't entirely sure if he was to be the cat or the mouse, though.

A few days later, they'd seemingly lost the motivation to work, so you again did their job for them.

With another accompanying limerick to help them along, of course.

“There once was a bullpen full of agents,

Who thought they were very surveillant,

But a simply code crack,

And there system did hack,

A young girl who lived quite adjacent.”

This time, you let the words linger on the screen longer, as you slipped your information into their files, leaving more bread crumbs they could follow to the real villain.

The Agent - Doctor, you had since learned - took up his pen once again and scribbled your first poem next to your most recent.

Doctor Spencer Reid. An IQ of 187, three PhDs and however many Bachelor's Degrees, a member of the Behavioural Analysis Unit, and, as you could somehow tell from the grainy security footage, incredibly attractive man.

He was calm, again talking with his hands as he notated, again drawing the rooms attention like he was the sun and everything needed to orbit him to sustain life. You wondered what it would be like to fluster him.

Typing something out quickly, you broke back into the FBI system. It was risky doing it again so soon again, knowing that their tech analyst was already actively hunting you down, cyber-wise. But you couldn't resist.

“The tall, dark and handsome employee,

How I do wish that he could enjoy me,

I would gladly submit,

we match wit for wit,

But he's trying his best to arrest me.”

The BAU team stood silent on the camera before the two women on the team burst into rambunctious laughter. The camera feed was archaic, black and white, and grainy to boot, but even you couldn't miss the red stain against Doctor Spencer Reid's cheeks. A bonus was the other gentlemen subtly posturing, trying to figure out exactly which of them was “tall, dark, and handsome.”

The payoff for that poem was so great that over the course of the next few days, you kept serenading him with love poems among your quick hints about the actual crime being committed.

You'd first suspected the man of being dangerous when you'd seen the state of his wife. 19 domestic disturbance calls in two months, 0 arrests, and 1 very cushy job as a police detective. You'd done some simple computer programming for your local precinct, inputting data from cases into an algorithm that helped track everything easier, so you'd been intimate with cases that he'd handled.

A pattern had emerged, a series of murders of “undesirables,” people the city didn't care about when alive and certainly didn't have the resources to allocate to after their deaths. Prostitutes, the homeless, and runaway foster kids. All missing or dead, all cases handled by the same officer. The officer that lived next door to you and was one beer away from beating his wife into submission 5 days a week.

After your third 911 call, you'd been notified of your contract termination with the precinct. After the tenth, you noticed parole cars driving by every hour.

By call number 19, you were sure it was a miracle he hadn't tried to have you arrested.

So you turned back to the FBI to see what they could do about a man who treated his wife, and basically everyone else, like scum of the earth.

“Please don't get sidetracked by my hacking,

I'm a good girl, your team I am backing,

the killer, you see,

Is right now hunting me,

You're the ones who can do better tracking.”

You watched the tension snap back into place in the office as, for the first time, Spencer Reid was silent at your message. They all got back to work quickly, going over the files you'd dropped in their servers.

That night, Spencer Reid stayed in the office late, reading through piles and piles of files and looking for the connection he needed. You watched in pity, feeling almost guilty that you'd placed this burden on him instead of just approaching them honestly. But you'd called the police before, and it hadn't worked, so getting attention anyway you could was the only way to go.

You watched for so long that you began noticing his small habits. Each time you sensed frustration, he would run a hand through his hair and tug it slightly. When he found something, he leaned in closer to the page, as if his proximity to the words would make them clearer. Finally, he stood and began clearing his files. But you weren't quite ready to sign off yet, the shouting already beginning in the apartment next to yours, so you quickly typed out the first thing that came to mind to get him to stay.

“There once was a doctor called Reid,

Who I simply and truly just need,

I would lie on my back,

And then let him attack,

Any inch of my body with his seed.”

He fumbled the files in his haste to remove your words from his screen, from every screen now in the building, face awash with embarrassment as he looked around for some sign that no one witnessed your words.

Luck was not to be had as the tech analyst - Penelope Garcia - came shooting out of her office to join him in the near empty bullpen, and the older team leader - Aaron Hotchner - also looked out over the bannister from his office as they bore witness to your seduction.

You were driving Spencer Reid crazy.

He'd spent the last two weeks tracking down a serial killer who may or may not exist based on the word of a set of limericks delivered to the BAU through illegal means that had begun unabashedly flirting with him.

This latest limerick was his last straw.

“The cameras are how I can see you,

I do find myself enjoying the view,

His hair is so fine,

I wish he was mine,

The agent with more PhDs than two.”

“Another score, pretty boy, it was about time someone noticed your good looks instead of your brain for once.” Morgan patted him on the shoulder, barely containing his glee and laughter.

“She's watching us through security feed, and that's all you have to say?” he grumbled, writing out this limerick again, the words to the others burned into his brain. “She's playing with me.”

“It sure sounds like she'd enjoy doing just that,” Emily laughed from her desk, “but I think she might be right, Spencer. Every case file she's given us has suspicious activity on it. They're all unsolved, but the victims aren't linked.”

“He's crossing race and gender boundaries, but he's hitting undesirables.”

They had a case because of you. It didn't mean he wouldn't enjoy handcuffing you and putting you in a cell once this was all finished.

“WE'VE GOT ANOTHER ONE,” Penelope shouted from her office, to no avail. If it was at one computer, it was on all of them.

“The agents grew closer by day,

As the killer wanted to escape,

He paced across the floor,

As I watched by his door,

Getting closer than the agents could say.”

He paused then for a second, thinking through each of the limericks in turn and the panic began.

“Closer than… Emily, the officer that took in all of the cases, what was his name?”

“Officer Falstaff, why?”

“I think he might be our killer. And I think he knows she's on to him, or if he doesn't, he will soon.” He stood suddenly, grabbing a file and sprinting to Penelope’s office, Emily and Morgan trailing close behind.

“Spencer, wait-”

“No time. If we want them both alive, we have to move now.”

Throwing the door to Penelope’s room open, he didn't even bother with niceties.

“Can you get her a message?” He demanded, panting from the short run.

“A wha-? Spencer, what are you talking about?”

“Can you send the hacker a message? Or leave her one so she can find it when she comes?”

Penelope swivelled around in her chair once again, doing who-knows-what to answer his question.

“There's no telling what she actually sees in our servers, Spencer, we didn't see any breach in classified files, the only thing she's done is read your personal file and drop us hints.”

His hands closed into fists as he nodded along. “So no?”

“No, Spencer, I'm sorry. Why? Are you starting to grow fond of our little helper.”

“She's not our little helper. She's a criminal. And she'll be dead soon if I don't confirm with her that we have the right guy - excuse me.”

The anger was washing over him now, as he left the room to get some air, getting only as far as the corridor before slamming an open palm into the wall and resting his forehead against it for a moment, just thinking.

The stress of the case was almost too much for him as he turned around and rested his back against the wall, sliding down it until he was sat on the floor. He may have despised you at that moment, but he didn't want you to get yourself killed.

Something nagged him, still, some stress or anger that hadn't yet surfaced, or some case fact he was missing. A glint at the corner of his eye had him looking up to the camera currently trained directly on him.

Computers are useless, he thought to himself, when you can send a letter.

The next time you sat down at your desk, you weren't exactly shocked to see an up close and personal shot of Aaron Hotchner - they'd turned your security stream into a one way facetime and you were sat directly opposite the big boss himself in an interrogation room.

“Checkmate, I guess,” you said, waiting for the man to move.

A signal from behind the camera let him know you were online and watching. He picked up a pen and paper and scribbled down something before holding the note out to you once more.

The name and location of the bastard next door. They'd done it, and now you simply had to drop your evidence, shut down your computer, and wait for the sirens to sound.

You felt slightly sad typing out your last message, knowing that you had no more reason to stay in touch with the team now. Still, you were only human and couldn't resist the chance to say something more.

“Aaron Hotchner and his clever team,

Working with you has been like a dream,

When Reid comes it is wet,

And my mind is all set,

Oh, I do wish that he'd make me cream.”

The camera turned seconds after your message was sent, and there he was, reading intently, frow creased in annoyance as he tried to remain calm. He, too, picked up a pen and paper.

“I have questions,” the paper said when he turned it around. Holding it up for a few seconds before returning his pen to paper. You typed out a message before he could finish dictating his, though.

“When you find me there's lots for me to say,

I can't help simply feeling this way,

Your profile I read,

Can't believe you're a Fed,

I yearn for you all night and day.”

Somehow, the lines between his brow deepened as he quickly scribbled out another message. This one wasn't a question, though. It was simply two words.

He'd written your name on that paper. He'd found you.

You weren't sure if the tingle that ran up your spine was fear or anticipation. One one hand, you'd likely committed multiple felonies in the pursuit of justice, and the SWAT team about to pick up the killer was going to knock for you, too. On the other hand, it was pretty much a given that you would be seeing Spencer Reid in person in the next few hours.

“The Doctor had finally cracked it,

The only identity that could fit,

The pretty young thing,

Who'd been flirting with him,

And was thinking of sitting on his…”

You sent a second message along with the first.

“I couldn't make this one rhyme, Doc. Come and get me.”

The sound of the FBI outside your neighbour's door had you stepping away from the computer finally. It was time to get ready to see him. You stepped out of your robe and into the shower as you waited to be collected and hauled into a police vehicle.

xxx

So far, you were a bit disappointed by the look of the BAU offices. It was smaller than it appeared on the CCTV, and you hadn't exactly given the tour. Unless the whole tour was the wall from the elevators, through the bullpen and straight to interrogation room one. You were also slightly embarrassed that you had yet to be greeted by any of your favourite characters yet. The lead swat officer had led you in some desk agents dropping by to have you fill out some simple documents - waiving your rights and all that. You'd seen not even a single member of the BAU since dropping in two hours ago, but you felt his eyes on you.

You faced the mirror, trying your best to stare straight through it and into the man beyond.

Spencer Reid was there. He had to be. He was too curious to be anywhere else. You smiled at him through the mirror and waited.

You were right, of course. Spencer stood on the opposite side of the one-way window and watched you look for him in every inch of the glass. He watched you squirm when you couldn't find anything, watched you pick at your nails as he made you wait.

He watched you cross and uncross your legs, the short skirt you'd slipped into just before you left providing just enough mystery to catch his eye and his breath.

He was annoyed, frustrated, a little bit impressed, anxious, and - to his peril - turned on.

“Spencer,” Hotch said, breaking the man's concentration. “We can't keep her that much longer. Go in and say something, or I'll cut her loose.”

Reluctantly, he pulled his eyes away and stepped out of the waiting room before letting himself into yours.

“Miss Y/N, my name is Doctor Spencer Reid, I'm a profiler working with the Behavioural An-”

“You're joking, right?” You asked, eyes lighting up, spine straightening as you looked up at the man. “I know who you are, Doc.”

“Please call me Doctor Reid,” he asked, setting down a file on the table and looking over the desk at you.

“Oh, I don't even get your first name.” You lifted your leg and ran it along the side of his until he moved his chair back, just out of reach. You pouted as he began reading through documents, asking you to confirm exactly which technical breaches you were responsible for.

“And the breach at 1:27pm on Thursday 5th-”

“Yes, that was me, too. They were all me, Doc, is that all? Are we finished now?”

“I don't know, are we finished? Can I leave?”

“No,” you shouted, just as he stood up to gather his things. “No, don't go. I want to talk to you.”

He sat back down, finally looking at you instead of words on a page.

“Do you enjoy attention, Miss Y/N?” He asked, voice cold but gaze burning like fire into your skin.

“As much as anyone does.”

“Do you enjoy my attention?” The words hung between you for a few minutes as you watched him carefully, searching for the right answer.

“What do you think, Doc?”

“Doctor Spencer Reid,” he repeated reflexively.

“I know your name,” you smiled, and he finally looked away, breaking contact to regroup for a second.

“We have reason to believe you used your backdoor into our system to access my personal file, is that correct?” It may have been asked as a question, but Spencer Reid already knew the answer.

“Yes, I did.”

“Why?”

You laughed at the simple question, sure that your behaviour until this point was evidence enough to answer it.

“Why? Because you're attractive and your smart and-”

“Why haven't you used the content of the files as leverage? I've been digging at you for the last half hour, and you have plenty of ammunition to throw back at me, yet you haven't. Why?”

For the first time in a while, you were speechless.

“Oh. Wow. Should I have said something? Would you have felt more comfortable if I were a horrible person using your background to make you feel vulnerable?”

“Why, Y/N?”

You sighed and looked back up at him.

“I'm interested in you. That's it. Honestly, there is nothing in your file more interesting than how you look running your hands through your hair.”

His jaw clenched and unclenched before he let out a sigh.

“So you're a compulsive liar.” He said it so finitely it was like a kick in the teeth.

“Or maybe you're just insecure. I can help with that.”

He shot you another warning look as a grin spread over your lips. Yes, it was very fun to mess with Spencer Reid.

“FBI Agents aren't allowed to sleep with suspects.”

“You want to sleep with me?”

His eyes went wide as he realized his mistake, mouth opening and closing as he tossed another annoyed look in your direction.

The door to the interrogation room opened, and Reid quickly bolted out of his seat as Aaron Hotchner entered. The two men shared a nod before the younger man left the room entirely.

“Such a shame, I thought we were really getting somewhere.”

To your surprise, Hotchner’s lips curled up in a laugh as he sat down, straightening his suit.

“Miss Y/N, we've reviewed the information you've given us and taken into account your motives, and the FBI has decided not to prosecute you for your actions.”

You sat for a minute, Hotch doing the same, the both of you caught waiting for each other to say something or continue.

“But?” You prodded, knowing there was more left to say.

“But, we'd ask for your cooperation on cases in the future that require technological man-power. In a consultancy role, of course. You wouldn't be given a badge or a gun or any clearance, and you'd need to be with an agent at all times.”

You tapped your fingers against the desk, trying to figure out if this deal was beneficial or not.

“I'll do it if I can pick the Agent.”

Now, the man was fully smiling at you or giving you what you assumed passed for a smile in his books.

“We had recommended Doctor Reid for the role. Of course, if you're more comfortable with another agent, you can-”

“Doctor Reid is perfect, thank you.”

The man nodded and stood, and you stood with him as he led you quietly out of the room.

A flustered Spencer Reid exited the adjoining room, hurrying to catch Hotch before he really signed his life away to you.

“Hotch, what is this?” He demanded, stopping the man in his tracks. They both paused, turning around and moved a few feet awaywfrom.you whispering out their argument.

You couldn't catch most of it, but you did happen to catch the phrases “man-eater,” “I'm not good with people,” and “Spencer, this will be good for you.” Victory in the end went to Hotch, who promptly turned on his heel and kept walking down the hall.

“I work here now,” you said, grinning up at Spencer.

“No, you don't.”

“According to your boss, I do. And you're my babysitter.”

“You're a criminal. You hacked into the FBI database to leave ominous clues to multiple murders.”

“If you call those ominous clues, I'm curious how people usually flirt with you.”

“They don't. Why…why are we having this conversation?”

He stormed off ahead of you, and you quickened your pace to catch up to him, following him down a familiar hallway to what was obviously tech central at the BAU.

“Spencer, seriously? You're walking around looking like that, and no one hits on you?”

He stopped abruptly, and you ran into his back before he turned around to scowl at you again.

“Can we keep this serious, please?”

“I'm very serious about flirting with you, and I'm stumped why more people aren't.”

“Okay, let's go somewhere and talk,” his hand landed on your waist, readying his grip to forcibly move you if need be.

“I thought that's what we were doing.” Instead of allowing him to move you, you leaned into his touch, stepping closer and raising a hand to his chest, as his head dipped to maintain eye contact.

“No, this isn't talking, this is some weird foreplay I've never heard of, and I'd like you to leave my office if you're going to continue,” the woman sat at the desk exclaimed, horror and amusement fighting a battle for her facial expressions. “I like to keep my office a no trauma zone, so please take a walk to the nearest bed or storage closet or car and you can shove your tongues down each other's throats in peace and out of my sight, please and thank you.”

Spencer tried to step away, but a hand on his tie kept him close and kept his eyes on you. You poked your head out around him and smiled at the other woman.

“Sorry to disturb you. I'm Y/N. Based on the tech, I assume we will be working with each other soon.”

“Oh my gosh, you were, like, my number one most hated person last week. Penelope Garcia, tech analyst.”

“I'm sorry about that. If it makes it any better, it was really hard to get past some of your firewalls. And I couldn't even touch the classified files.”

“Apology accepted, on the condition that you lead young Reid out of my office right now before he explodes.”

You grinned and grabbed the man's hand, sending Penelope a quick goodbye as you pulled him out of the room.

He stumbled behind you for a few moments before catching up and pulling you in a different direction, keeping your hands intertwined as he bee-lined for the elevators and pushed the button to go down.

It arrived, and he pulled you in, not releasing your grip until the doors were fully closed and you were alone.

“Getting me all alone, Doc? What do you have in mind?”

“I'm driving you home.”

“My apartment is a crime scene, and I have no family in the city.”

“What about friends?”

“I've been stalked by a homicidal police officer for the last month and barricaded myself into an apartment. Do you think I have friends?”

His gaze was somewhat softer as he looked at you again. You saw the math happening in his head as he tried to figure out what to do with you. You also saw his brain short circuiting when you wrapped yourself around his arm.

“We're friends now, Doc. Isn't that right?”

“What?”

“We're friends,” you repeated again, tone becoming a little defensive in a pout.

“We are not friends, Y/N. We've known each other for less than 6 hours, and we haven't engaged in any friendly conversation.”

“We've known each other for two weeks, and I've been more than friendly enough for the both of us.”

The elevator stopped, and the doors opened. Gesturing for you to go first, Spencer hurried you out of the elevator and into the parking garage.

“Trust me, Spencer, deep down, part of you really wants to be friends with me,” you said poking his chest with a finger. You couldn't resist flattening your hand against his surprisingly hard chest and letting the hand drop slightly.

“And an ever deeper down part of you doesn't want to be friends at all,” you smiled at him.

He caught your wrist before it could reach his belt buckle, your unconscious finish line, spinning you around and dragging you to his car.

The biting cold of metal cutting into your wrists was the first indication that maybe Spencer Reid wasn't as easy to mess with as you'd hoped. He closed the handcuffs around your wrists and handed you into the car as you gaped at him.

“Spencer!”

“Doctor Spencer Reid.”

“I’m not a criminal, Spencer, let me go.”

“I'll let you go when you prove to me you can behave.”

You pouted as he strapped you into the car and closed the door, walking around to the passenger side before letting himself in.

“What's next? Are you going to gag me?” You scoffed as he turned over the engine and began backing out of the parking lot.

“No. I think you'd enjoy that too much.”

The drive to Spencer's apartment was long and quiet as you sat pouting in the passenger seat. Every few seconds, you twisted and moved your arms, fidgeting left and right so he could see how much the restraints bothered you. Luckily, he'd handcuffed your hands in front of your body, so you still sat somewhat comfortably, but you didn't want him to know that.

He pulled up to the building and turned off the engine, pulling out his keys.

“Let's go,” he said, not even sparing you a look as he climbed out.

“Spencer, I'm handcuffed. How do I even get out?”

“You'll figure it out. You're a smart girl, right?”

He closed his door and began walking, and you quickly fumbled your way out.

“Spencer… Spencer, your neighbours are going to ask questions about you bringing a handcuffed girl into your apartment!” You whispered at him as you paced behind him, somehow running to catch up with his mere walk.

“I don't have neighbours like you, Y/N. They won't notice a thing.”

“Right, okay. And when you murder a dozen people over a six month period, they won't hack the federal government.” You rolled your eyes as he unlocked the door, taking your arm and finally handing you into the apartment.

It was dark and cold, and you shivered, feeling his body pushed in right behind yours, closing the door before he felt around for the light switch.

When the lights turned on, you blinked, adjusting to the light again as he walked you further into the apartment, hands on your hips as you slowly stumbled forward.

“Can you take the handcuffs off now?” You asked, looking over your shoulder at him.

“And let you touch my things? No.”

You shook off his hands and walked further into the room.

“You know I can still mess with your stuff with my hands tied up like this,” you said, walking to the nearest bookshelf.

“Whoops, look at that,” you said, pulling a book off the shelf and letting it fall to the floor between you with a thud.

“Y/N!” He exclaimed, voice pitched up in exasperation.

“Oh, this stack of books on the ground looks well organized. Oopsie!” You acted out tripping over the books, sending them flying in different directions.

“One more time, Y/N, mess with my stuff one more time-”

You didn't hear the words as you pulled yet another book off his shelf and let it tumble to the ground.

He was on you in seconds, lifting your wrists and pinning them to the top shelf, pressing his body against yours as he stretched you out.

You gasped at both the sudden contact and the tight grip he now had on your hands.

“Tell me, do you actually want to be in control, or do you just think you should want to be in control?”

“What's the difference?”

“The difference is how much you enjoy it. I think you're only being a brat to get a rise out of me. You're doing this because there's no one else in your life that will give you exactly what you crave."

"And what would that be?"

"Attention," he whispered into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Great, thanks for the therapy. Are you going to show me how much I can enjoy relinquishing control now?”

“Brat,” he spat at you.

“Fed,” you spat back.

“You have a problem with law enforcement?” He asked, his breath hitting your ear as you tried not to shiver again at his touch.

“My neighbour was a serial killer whose day job was police brutality," you said, as if the answer was obvious, but Spencer still stared, waiting for true confirmation.

“Yes I have a problem with law enforcement. What, are you going to spank me?”

His eyes lit up, and you suddenly wondered if you'd made a mistake.

“You'd like that, wouldn't you?”

“N-No.” You stuttered, but he'd already begun moving you over to his couch.

“It was a joke. Spencer, it was a joke, don't-”

You underestimated his strength as he flipped you around and guided you down over his lap. Keeping your hips raised, he used one hand to hold you down while the other pushed up your tight skirt.

“S-Spencer, I really don't think-”

“Then don't think,” he said, bringing his hand down hard on your ass as you cried out in shock and pain.

“Stop thinking. You think too much, let me do it for you.”

With each hit, your shock grew fuzzy, melting into pleasure as you felt wetness pooling between your thighs.

The doctor you thought would be an easy target was not sadistically returning every teasing word back to you with his hands, letting bruises blossom all over your ass as he delivered painfully arousing strikes.

His hand stopped and he rubbed your ass as you twitched at the gentleness, panties sticking to the folds of your cunt as you absent mindedly pushed up into his touch.

“See, now you're listening,” he said, fingers trailing down to touch you over the sopping undergarments.

With two quick fingers, the crotch of your panties peeled away from your skin and he was plunged deep inside you, fingers pressing in as his thumb found its way to your clit.

“Fuck, Spencer-”

“Doctor Reid. You can use my full title now or you don't get to cum.”

“D-Doctor Reid, please!” His thumb rubbed slowly over your clit bit his fingers didn't move as you shuddered and contracted around them.

“Please what?” He asked, voice light as if he wasn't two knuckles deep in you already.

“Please make me cum, Doctor Reid!”

“Good manners,” he said as he finally began pumping his digits in and out of you, spreading your legs wider as you clawed your hands into his couch cushions to ground yourself in the moment. His spare hands left your wrists, and you felt them again, delivering small, almost cute hits to your ass as you twitched around his fingers, shying away from the painful contact.

“That's it, Y/N, let yourself relax,” he whispered, shifting his weight underneath you as you became aware of the tent in his pants.

Your brain was jello as you tried to bounce back on his fingers, chasing your oncoming orgasm.

“Look at you, trying to cum on my hands. You're just an attention-seeking slut, right?”

His fingers continued ppimg as your tongue hung loosely in your mouth.

“Answer me, or I'll leave you here high and dry, Y/N. Tell me you're an attention seeking slut that's been fingering yourself to the thought of this for weeks.”

“I-I'm an a-atten…tion seeking s-slut,” you stifled a moan and bit back tears as he pressed another finger inside of you. “Spencer I can't I need to cum,” you cried, tears spilling down your cheeks pathetically.

“Say it.”

“I'm an attention seeking s-slut that's been th-thinking about this-”

“Fingering yourself,” he corrected.

“Fingering myself to the thought of this for w-weeks,” you cried, sniffing now as your thighs shook in anticipation.

“What a nasty little slut,” he said as you finally came, your cum running down his fingers as he kept his hands moving.

Your tears were falling freely now as you bit back little sobs and chokes of emotions, the pleasure from the orgasm almost too much to handle.

Underneath you, Spencer shifted, freeing himself from his position and laying you fully down on the sofa as your legs still shook.

“There once was a doctor called Reid,” he said, unzipping his pants as he took up his place behind you.

They were your words, and your body signalled warnings everywhere as his hands pulled your hips up once more, pulling your knees up too to bend under you, laying you face down ass up.

“Who I simply and truly just need.”

He pulled the panties down to the crook of your knees before leaning down over you so he could deliver the next few lines as whispers into your ear.

“I would lie on my back, And then let him attack, Any inch of my body with his seed.”

A weak moan escaped your lips as he sank his cock inside of you, lips still pressed against your ears.

“I don't want you on your back, though. I much prefer you like this.”

His cock slid out of you and returned with a speed and strength that had your eyes rolling back in your head.

He was thick, maybe a little longer than average, and he filled you perfectly using your cum as lubricant.

“Such a good listener, now, Y/N. I like you like this,” he said with a moan, thrusting hard and deep inside of you.

You didn't talk. You could only drool and moan into his couch as he emptied your brain one thrust at a time.

You didn't think about how he wasn't wearing a condom. You didn't think about how he'd spat your words back at you, ready to fill you with his seed. You just sat in a pool of your own pleasure and let Spencer Reid use your body as you'd been begging him to for weeks.

He raised your hips and gave one last thrust, stilling there for a second as he filled your empty body and mind with his cum and his entire being.

If you weren't obsessed with Doctor Spencer Reid before this, you certainly were now.

He pulled out of you quickly, wiping his cock on your skirt before hurrying off to the bathroom to clean up.

Your brain was still absent when he returned, cleaning you off and finally removing the handcuffs. He removed your clothes, replacing them with his spares as he threw the soiled ones into the wash.

When you regained your wits or what was left of them, you were laid out in his bed, wrapped in a blanket and stuffed into a sweater and sweats, fully covered from head to toe. Spencer was picking up his keys and trying his shoelaces.

“Where are you going?’ You asked sleepily, stumbling to the doorway. Your legs were still shaky, and your movement was already limited. You knew that tomorrow, the use of your limbs would be nonexistent.

“Back to the office. Now that you're not around, maybe I'll be able to get some actual work done.”

“Spencer,” you said, forcing him to turn around to look back at you.

Before he could say anything else, you pressed your lips to his, hot and needy, wrapping your arms around his neck as he kissed back, slipping his tongue into your mouth and pressed you into the wall next to the door.

When you both pulled away for breath, you detangled your limbs, smoothing out his shirt and readjusting his tie.

He looked down at you, waiting for you to say something else as you met his gaze, grinning at him.

“I look forward to working with you, Doctor Reid.”

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

[chilumi-shipper]

Mama and Papa

Neuvillette x Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Smut, Breeding Kink, Cockwarming, Creampie

Summary: You absolutely adore the Melusines, treating every single one as if they're you're own child. That tenderness you hold dear for the cute little creatures was what drew the Chief Justice to you in the first place, seeing how even the tough Melusine guards seem to indulge and melt into your motherly embrace. However, for some reason, the scene of you all sweet and caring with the Melusines invoked another feeling from Neuvillette, one more... flithy and sinister than mere adoration.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

His eyes can't help but wander...

From the papers on his desk, all the way to your figure sitting on the floor. Two little Melusines accompanied you, one sleeping on your lap, the other behind you and braiding your hair.

The serenity of the scene before him prevented him from keeping his eyes off you... your presence was simply too alluring.

"Miss Y/N, are you our Mama?" Sedene, the one braiding your hair, suddenly asked, opting a surprised look from you, as well as your lover just a few feet away from you.

There was innocence in the little darlings eyes, "You are very nice to us, just like a Mama." She reasoned her question as she finishes off your braid with a bow.

"Hmmm, I guess I am your Mama! If you want me to be." You answered, caressing Sedene's cheek. "And that means that Neuvillette over there is your Papa!"

The Chief Justice assessed what had just unfolded in front of him, the cutest interaction he's ever seen in, perhaps, his entire life. Sedene's eyes met his, expectantly waiting for a confirmation of what you said.

"I suppose that makes sense." He answered the Melusine's questioning gaze, enjoying the huge smile that was brought to her face as she looks back at you.

That is when Neuvillette can truly take in the situation...

You and him... Mama and Papa...

Being parents together, that would mean seeing you with a swollen belly, nurturing a baby born of his and your love...

From him breeding you and coating your insides with his cum, your breasts would be producing milk for your child, and you would look absolutely radiant completely naked for him to please make love to and-

"Papa!" Neuvillette was taken out of his (very filthy) trance when Liliath, the one previously asleep on your lap, yells for him.

When he looked at her though, the Melusine gasps, "It's true..." She then looks back at Sedene. "He is our Papa! He looked when I called him Papa!"

"That's what Mama said!"

You giggled at their conversation, none the wiser of the piercing eyes that stared at you and was currently picturing you in his dirty fantasies.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

"W-Woahh... darling, hold on..." Your words seem to only come out as a breath, closing your eyes as you hold on for dear life.

He had you in a mating press, keeping your legs pressed against your chest as he eases into you slowly. Neuvillette is rather big, and you held desperately on his arms as he shoved himself all the way in.

He lets out a deep groan when he finally started to move, immediately opting for a fast pace. "Darling... I-" Neuvillette found it hard to get his words out, the feeling of your pussy squeezing him tight was far too good to be interrupted by his thoughts.

He was being rough with you, holding tight onto your thighs, thrusting hard into you, making sure to mover around so that you feel him fill you up to the brim with his cock. It wasn't like your usual love making... this one... he means business...

And boy, did you feel what he meant by the way his cock pounded you over and over, giving your pulsating cunt the pleasure that it wants.

Your husband couldn't be more hot at that moment, so focused on drilling into you, looking intently at where you connect. "I love you, Y/N." He whispered into the air breathlessly, eyes shut as he felt your insides squeeze him.

"I love you too..." you caressed his face and smiled, feeling full of love... in more ways than one.

As you continued, he pounded you even faster, a clear sign that he's about to cum. He would usually pull out already, preparing to coat your breasts with his hot seed.

However, he remains inside you, thrusting continuously, making you call out for him. "Neuvi... Ahhhh...." You moaned as you grabbed onto his arm. "I'm gonna... I need to..."

"Inside."

"Ahhhhg... What...?" You half moaned out, looking at him as you were almost blissed out from his cock fucking you so good.

"I want to cum inside you, Darling..." He said in such a dangerously low voice, sending shivers down your spine. "Will you let me?" He slowed down his thrusts into you, looking at you, almost begging.

You were rather shocked at his request, looking at him wordlessly.

"Please, darling..." He whispered once again. "Wanna breed you..."

And that did it for you, you nodded immediately, allowing him to do as he please.

You moaned loud as you came together, you feeling extremely fucked out as you felt his cum coat your insides, "Ohhh, Neuvi..." He buried his face on the crook of your neck, not bothering to take his cock out of your pussy.

"Thank you... I love you..." He said, his voice muffled by your skin. He inhaled your sweet smell before rolling to your side, holding you close so that you could cockwarm him and keep him all nice and warm. He also wanted to make sure that his cum would stay inside you.

"You know, Neuvillette..." You started in a rather teasing tone. "I think it would take more than one round for you to actually breed me..." You moved to be on to of him, sitting on his cock as you smile almost innocently.

You felt his cock stiffen inside you, making you giggle. "Don't worry, Darling... I'll make sure you get what you want..." You kissed him on the lips, your hips starting to move up and down.

"Breed me, Darling..."

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

I absolutely love Melusines and now I have adopted every single one of them. I am now their mother.

Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoy my once a year update!

#neuvillette #neuvilette genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #genshin impact neuvillette #neuvilette x reader #neuvillette smut

[hellishjoel]

cherry thrill | lights

9.2k / pairing: daddy dom tattoo artist!joel miller x sub virgin f!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | notifications blog | ko-fi chapter summary: your tattoo artist, joel miller, takes your virginity. chapter warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), no outbreak, implied age gap, swearing, virginity loss, dom&sub dynamics (/not lg), size kink, praise kink, degradation kink, daddy kink, innocence kink, corruption kink, swearing, dirty talk, pet names (princess, bunny, baby girl, sweetheart, etc.), oral (m&f receiving), fingering, protected p in v, joel talks you through it, protective!joel, slight pov switching, reader is described as having no tattoos or piercings, as well as hair, but otherwise no physical description, no use of y/n series summary: Trust and devotion. Ink meets innocence. Your tattoo artist, Joel Miller, shows you what it really means to give up control. Reeling from the loss of your job, you’re running out of options, until a passing comment from Joel and a video camera give you just the right idea. A/N: this was supposed to be a one shot but just like everything else I try to write, I expand on the characters too much for it not to become a series. also, thank you for 2,000 followers, I promise to do something soon to show my appreciation <3 I'm bad at giving thanks and receiving attention so anyway - dividers by @firefly-graphics (thank you, daisy!)

During your first consultation, there was something in the air. 

Glances that lasted a few seconds too long, a charged energy replicating that of two strong magnets.  You stand frozen in a dark office down the hall from the shop’s main entrance. The walls are painted black. A gallery wall displays different art and posters in gold frames. There’s a large red neon sign with your tattoo artist’s initials, J.M. 

Joel Miller. 

You sit opposite of him, leg anxiously bouncing and nails subconsciously piercing the chair’s leather arms as he listens silently to your request before his mind starts to work. It doesn’t take much time to draw up an example or two with your guided tweaks and fixes. 

Other than the scribble of a graphite pencil, silence falls over you both. And observation takes over. 

Joel surrounds himself with scattered drawings on loose paper that litter his desk. You watch the way his eyes screw inward to focus on the sketch he is drawing up. A small vein protrudes from his temple, his jaw shifts from side to side with tension. 

He’s a blunt sort of handsome. With harsh edges and lines, jaded and carved with precision like precious marble. It makes your pulse jump a bit in your neck and wrist. 

You think your first tattoo should be something special, especially since you’ve waited so long to pull the trigger. He was a bit intimidating like you imagined a tattoo artist to be, what with his brooding demeanor and how he looked you up and down upon taking one step inside his parlor. 

Virgin. 

That’s what he called your skin, untouched by any ink or piercings. 

He didn’t know that it described you down to your core. No one had popped your cherry, taken your virginity, made you theirs. Untouched.

Now, half an hour later and sitting anxiously in his back office, he finishes drawing up the sketch and asks about the precise placement you had in mind. 

“I was thinking here,” you mindlessly point to a spot on your upper thigh. There was a level of secrecy to it, in case any future employers cared about that sort of shit. 

You can’t help the way your skin vibrates under his touch, when he aids you in taking off your bottoms and runs his calloused palms up the smooth skin of your thighs. 

You shakily exhale as he warms you. 

You definitely don’t let yourself fantasize that he’s feeling you up, or even think about wanting him to explore every inch of your body. You know he’s just doing his job. 

But the way his eyes flick up to yours when he feels the goosebumps he knows he’s created is otherworldly. Like he knows you want him to fuck you. The way your muscles twitch under the warmth of his palm, feeling pliant under his touch. Fuck. 

His eyes gleam as his mouth forms into a barely-there smirk. 

There was no point in playing coy. Your body changed at the contact and Joel knew it. 

It was damn near degrading the way he let you simmer. It set a light inside of you no one had before. So that’s when you knew you’d let him, Joel Miller, take your virginity. 

It would be no easy task. You didn’t know how to pursue him, or anyone for that matter. Maybe if you did, you wouldn’t have said virginity. 

You try not to stare for too long, but even with his gruff demeanor and silence being second nature to him, he was handsome. A rugged sort of handsome with different facial piercings. 

A septum in his nose highlighted its aquiline structure. And a small hoop in his right eyebrow, with greys tickling through like pretty streaks in the hair. It made him look deliciously too old for you. Perhaps that’s what you enjoyed most, though. He was no amateur. 

The moment his fingers dipped into your flesh to work on your tattoo's placement, you knew he felt it, too. Supple under his touch. Squishy. Something he could sink his teeth into. Something that obeyed. 

“You prepared for the pain, sweetheart?”

His southern drawl is sweet like honey, deep and husky nonetheless. 

“I think so.” 

Your response is meek. It’s your wavering nerves from having him so close and unsure what the feeling of being tattooed will be like. Joel looks for certainty instead. He insists on it. 

“Need ya t’tell me. Not that you think, that you know.”

“I’m sorry. I know so.”

Joel squeezes the back of your thigh fondly, a proud little smile twitching at the edges of his mouth. “Good girl.”

The praise alone was enough to make your thighs sticky with arousal. Joel sent you home that day with an ache between your legs that your fingers had to fix. And you thought about him the entire time. 

How his cold tongue piercing would feel against the warmth of your clit. Holding you with his strong, protective arms swirled with black ink. How his staggering dark eyes would look into yours as he fucks you. 

But thinking about him wasn’t enough. 

You tried to string out the process, anything you could do to fix more time with him. Anything to get his tough palms on your skin. 

You fiddled with different placements, opting to show a little skin as you rid yourself of your top and pointed to your ribs during your next appointment. 

A breath hitches in your throat as he eyes your bra's innocent pink color. Lacy and pretty. Delicate. He clears his throat and runs his fingers along your side, evidence of his touch causing an effect on you displayed with more goosebumps. Your body could simply not hide the attraction you felt towards him. 

“Would hurt. A lot. The ribs move every time you breathe, which makes the tattooing process more painful.” Joel gently cups your side with his large palm and squeezes your ribs, holding you in place as you shakily breathe with the hold he has on you. “Can’t tell ya where to place it, can only advise. Just don’t want such a pretty girl to shed any tears.” 

That’s when you knew you could trust him. That even a man as hardened as himself could treat you with such care. 

He excuses himself for a moment, opting for more transfer paper and leaving you topless in his private office. 

Your ears were ringing, you could hear the quickening beat of your heart. You slowly inch off the portable tattoo table, glancing around Joel’s dark academia-style office. 

He’s an enigma, you think, the more you look at his surroundings. Quiet but dark, you knew he was concealing a hidden desire. You hope to unlock it. That he’ll trust you enough just as you trust him. 

Articles of clothing start to drop to the floor, one by one. You knew you’d be ambushing him; you didn’t want to scare Joel. So you left yourself in your soft pink-colored bra and panty set. You thought it was classy and cute. Not too forward, but sweet. Definitely planned out, you hope he doesn’t notice. 

All your confidence quickly disappears as soon as he comes back in through the door. You could feel your heart slowly sink to your stomach, your lips parting to come up with some sort of reasoning. 

“I-I’m sorry,” is all you can think to say. Joel is stilled at the entrance of his office, door still ajar as he blankly stares at the delicate angel standing in the middle of his office. 

He clears his throat and finally closes the door, leaving the two of you in silence. You can’t read his expression. 

“What do ya think you’re doin’?” He asks, sweet southern drawl dripping with tension as his heavy boots slowly make their way closer to you. 

You can only shake your head, unsteady hands concealing as much of your body as possible. You decide to face the mirror, keeping your back to him. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Miller, I was just-” Lie. “I was just looking at your full-length mirror to see other placement ideas.” 

Joel merely shakes his head, a knowing look in his eyes. “I can tell when you’re lyin’ t’me, baby girl. You wanna try tellin’ me the truth now?”

His tone only makes the ache in your core grow with desire as your pulse quickens under his eyeline. 

You feel embarrassed, heat coursing through your body and making you tingle as his stare lingers selfishly, basking in the glory of your figure. You watch with want in the reflection as his eyes stare at the curves of your hips and your ass. A handful, he probably thinks. 

“Come on, sweetheart,” he coaxes, moving closer and enveloping you in his musky pine and whiskey scent. It’s almost knowing what he says next. “Tell me what y’want.” 

You swallow the lump protruding in your throat before you decide to be honest with him. Like you said, you could trust him. You play with your fingers and pick at the skin by your nails.

“I want you.” You say barely above a whisper. 

Joel simply shakes his head, takes another impossible step closer, and cranes his head down to hear you better. His lips and coarse beard hairs tickle at the shell of your ear. 

Your eyes close shyly as he speaks again amid your silence. 

“Say it again, baby. Can’t hear ya.” His toned front meets your back, forcing a whimper past your lips. 

You work up the nerve to take a glance at the two figures in the gold-framed mirror. Perfect opposites. Young, beautiful, a little inexperienced. Older, handsome, sure as hell looks like he knows what he’s doing. 

His height looms over you. His eyes are an unknown shade of obsidian and he’s radiating a comforting warmth. Your hand reaches for his, only able to look him in the eyes through the glass as you guide his hand to your hip. 

Your thumb rolls across the faded tattoo on the backside of his hand. There used to be a cross there, but it looks to be covered up by some sort of python now. With a shaky sigh, you try again. “I want you, Mr. Miller. I want you to take my virginity.” 

You’ve prepared yourself to hear his laughter, a snickering, degrading comment of disbelief. You felt ready to experience shame. But you were wrong. 

Joel places his pointer finger under your chin, using his other hand to guide you in his hold to turn and face him. His thumb grazes over your lower lip as he guides your head to tilt up and look at him properly. Your soft eyes meet his lust-driven ones and your heart surges at the sight. 

You’ve never seen a man so hungry. 

“You want me to take your virginity, little bunny?” He hums seductively. Suddenly, you don’t feel so doomed. It’s placed with a little bit of eagerness now. You wanted your spoils. 

“Yes. Want you to do whatever you desire with me, I’ll do anything you want.” You sound like a devoted cult member, but the energy you feel is undeniable. You’re sure you’ve soaked through your panties at this point. 

Slowly but surely, Joel begins to nod. He’s mulled it over and he’s made up his mind. 

“Whatever I desire, huh?” He tuts almost degradingly. Your nod of enthusiasm makes his blood rush. 

He hesitates, untrusting of his own words. 

“Want you to call me Daddy,” He starts haphazardly, gauging your reaction. “Think you can do that, sweet girl?”

Your wide eyes soften, a notch of confusion knotting your eyebrows. 

“You- what?” 

“Want you to call me daddy. Want you to be a good little girl for me and hop up on that desk. Can ya do that for me, princess?” His chin juts up and signals toward his office desk. 

The swirling in your stomach just won’t stop. 

“Go on now.” His orotund voice projects his instructions. You back up a few paces until you feel the cool metal of his desk hit your backside, slowly moving to sit on it with hidden excitement and a shiver up your spine. 

You do want to be good, if there’s anything you want in this world right now, it’s to play along and be good for him. Knowing he would take care of you was making you leak. 

His fingertips delicately touch your skin, starting at your wrists and moving upwards to the straps on your bra. He’s intimidating to look at, so you fixate on something behind him. But it doesn’t help when he clouds your vision. Even his aroma, from the smoke of his cigarettes to the musky spruce cologne, was putting you in a tailspin. 

You don’t anticipate the way your body moves for him. His hands skim to the back of your bra, and your spine straightens. It makes the right side of his mouth twitch up into a smirk. 

“Nervous?” He belittles.

Your long lashes innocently flutter, you think you might be doing it on purpose. You sort of like playing along. 

“A little… Daddy.” You test cautiously, the word tangling on your tongue. But it’s unforgettable the way his eyes light up at the name. You find yourself already willing to do whatever it takes to recreate that signature look of his. 

Joel hums appreciatively, thumb making minuscule circles over your chin. “I’ll take care of ya. Ya know that. Or else you wouldn’t have chosen me.”

All you can do is nod. Because he knows that your selection process was a real thing. You had danced around it once during your first consultation when he asked if you had a boyfriend. All you could feel was heat rising to the back of your neck, shy eyes evading his warm brown orbs. 

“No, definitely not.” 

“What’d’ya mean definitely not? You’re a pretty girl.”  

You shrug in a noncommittal way. “I’ve never had to really worry about stuff like… boyfriends. Or girlfriends. Any of that sort of stuff.” 

His eyes flicked up to yours in an instant, a mutual understanding of your underlying words. “I see. I understand, angel.” 

Joel works your bra off with one hand, you gasp as you feel the material loosen around your body. His opposite hand taps at the top of your thigh. You’re all too aware you are eagerly sitting half-naked on his desk. 

“Open.” He directs, voice laced with smoke. 

You nip at your lower lip and slowly inch your clamped-shut thighs open for him. He instantly makes eye contact with the wet, dark little circle that’s ruining the pristine innocence of your panties. 

He decides not to make fun of it, but it’s truly a compliment. Your adoration for him. “This all for me, angel?”

You work up a few quick nods. Now that he was so close, you wanted him to hurry the hell up.

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?” 

You feel heat tingle at the sides of your neck. This would be your first time really talking like this with someone. He made it feel safe to talk so dirty. To try, to learn. 

“Yes, daddy.”

You can’t deny how proud you feel to be the reason a certain warmth brightens in his eyes and on his smirk. You did that, you pleased him. Little did you know how he’d thank you for it. 

“You said you’re a virgin? Hard to believe.”

A shaky sigh leaves your parted lips as his warm palms slowly pull your bra down, revealing your breasts to him. “Just never found anyone I really trusted or liked enough.” 

He mutters something quiet in understanding, all too distracted by how damn pretty you look. 

Joel is silently observing your body, he can’t help but want to touch the delicate flower in front of him. A gasp leaves your parted lips as his calloused hands come up and cup your breasts. He starts to squeeze, and a happy little whimper leaves your mouth with a small smile. 

“I like that.” You tell him, hoping it improves your chances that he’ll do it again. Which he does. 

“Good.” He compliments, pinching your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, turning them into peaks that send electricity down your spine. 

A sweet and experimental moan leaves your lips. Joel stands between your parted legs and you feel his erection for the first time against your skin. You can tell by the shape protruding through his pants that he’s a large man, already thick and swollen for your taking. 

“No one’s ever been inside of you?” He damn near growls, raising an eyebrow after the beat he offers you to answer.  

You shake your head again. “I’ve tried my fingers, but I’m sure it’s not the same.” 

A scoffy little breath echoes out of his nose. “No, not quite. Lay back for me, bunny.” His hands release your breasts, pebbled nipples left abandoned as you slowly move down onto your elbows and then onto your back. 

There was a sudden peak of anxiety, not being able to fully see him. But perhaps this was the point, to fully surrender yourself under his touch. To trust him. 

His rough hands grip the sides of your panties, slowly pulling them down your legs. He gets about halfway down your thighs before you quickly sit up on your elbows again. 

“Joel?” Your voice anxiously chirps. 

He stops, eyes flicking up to you from your cunt still concealed by your sticky thighs. 

“We can stop,” He says before you can explain. “S’okay if you’re not ready.”

“No, no, that’s not it, God, that’s not it,” You rid his worries, feeling your chest quickly rise and fall under his all of a sudden protective gaze. 

“I uh-... I know you don’t owe me this, we’re not together, but… can you talk me through what you’re doing? I want to learn, and I can tell you’re experienced, I know it’s a lot to ask but-”

“S’not too much to ask.” He quickly intervenes, gently taking your hands and guiding you to sit up fully once more. Your soft eyes graze over all the layers he’s still wearing, and suddenly you’re reminded how naked you are. 

“Use your voice, sweet girl. Can tell you wanna say somethin’. This is your time.” 

The sentiment means a lot. It is your time, your first time, and just because you’re an adult doesn’t mean it should be any less special. So you decide to make it your time, the way you want it. 

“Can you take your clothes off too? And is the door locked?” You trail off upon seeing his amused smirk. 

“Go on.” He nods again, letting you list your needs and wants. 

“And can you kiss me, please, Daddy?” You ask more softly than the rest of your demands. You know that kissing is romantic, but you think it might help settle you. Pull you back from drifting away, keep you here with him.  

He watches you for a moment, a bemused grin on his lips before he gently cradles your face. “The door’s locked. I’ll take my clothes off. And I’ll kiss you as many times as you like as long as you keep askin’ that nice.” 

For the first time during your interaction, your face lights up with a smile. It’s small, it’s thankful, but it’s there. There was an undeniable connection you shared with Joel, it made you feel safe under his curious eyes. 

With his large hands cupping either side of your jaw, he leans down while simultaneously guiding your chin up as your lips meet. It’s gentle at first, soft. His mouth tastes like a cigarette, it’s oddly intoxicating and you find yourself wanting more.

You know how to make out at the very least. So when you gently bite down and tug on Joel’s lower lip, both of your eyes open as a throaty little groan escapes him. 

He kisses you a little harder this time, hands falling to your hips as he pulls you closer so your fronts align. The force makes your lips part and Joel takes the opportunity to let his tongue invade your mouth. He moves fluently to explore, both of you falling into a sweet lull as your bodies meld into one. 

Inadvertently, he hooks his pointer finger into your panties halfway down your thighs and finishes pulling them to your ankles. They land somewhere on the floor in a pile of your other clothes. 

Unbeknownst to you until he took his hands off your body to pluck open his belt do you realize how you were on fire for him. 

You wonder while he pushes down his trousers and tugs off his shirt if he’s ever slept with a virgin before. If you’d be his version of a first time just like he’d be yours. No, not his first ever, you weren’t that foolish. But maybe you could teach him a thing or two as well. 

There’s no way to mask your surprise when he pushes down his boxer briefs, the dark band revealing all that was underneath. His half-hard cock raises towards his stomach, rosiness fluttering at his tip. You were pleasantly surprised to find that it was a little hooked, deliciously curving upwards. 

With a new sense of confidence, your hand reaches forward and you start to shift your hand up and down his length. Joel’s quiet grunt shatters your thoughts. He gently cups the side of your neck and twirls a piece of hair around his finger. 

Joel takes your hand off his cock and you worry you’ve done something wrong already. He holds it palm-side up and nods encouragingly. “Spit on your hand, baby.”

He nods after you look up at him with shy, blown-out eyes. But you obey. 

You spit into your hand and let him guide your hand back around his member. That seems a lot better. He glistens with your spit and you have the urge to keep shocking him with your confidence.

You lean forward and directly spit onto his tip, looking up to see his approving little smirk. 

“Fuck- That’s- mmm, that’s good, angel,” he sighs with a certain happiness, loving the feeling of getting his cock taken care of. “Feels real good.” 

The praise sets off a million pistons in your brain, feeling yourself scrabble off the desk,  dropping to your knees as you continue to pump him. 

He’s heavy in your hand, and you gently lean forward to give sweet kisses to the tip. You swallow the lump in your throat before parting your lips, taking the head of his cock into your mouth. He’s salty, musky, but not dirty. In fact, he was rather well-kempt in his nether regions. 

You force yourself deeper and Joel already has his hands in your hair to pause you. 

“Woah, slow your roll, pretty girl.” He says with shortened breaths. Heat floods your body, you hate being so new to this. 

Joel continues to stroke your hair back, gently gliding a thumb up your cheekbone before he cradles one side of your face. “I see you gettin’ all shy, I know this is your first time, but I’ll teach you the basics. And no one’s perfect on their first try, okay? So just get that thought outta your head now.”

Your chest swells at his eagerness to relax you, so you nod gently and lean in to kiss the base of his stomach in appreciation. The right side of his mouth tilts up as he swipes his thumb across your plump bottom lip, a silent thank you for the kiss. 

“You’re a real good girl, you know that?” A bigger smile breaks across your lips and you eagerly tug on his cock with eagerness. Joel sighs, already in defeat at how you’re willing to get it right for him, to learn, to listen. To obey. 

“You’re gonna wanna relax your jaw,” his fingers guide you, your lips parting and letting your jaw drop lower, lower, lower for him. “And the whole part is to suck, not just put your mouth on it, okay, peaches? So hollow your cheeks, no teeth, and only go as far as you feel comfortable.” 

You shake off your nerves and clear your throat, feeling your mouth fill with spit intended for him. You place your hands on the back of his thighs, feeling the dark hairs under the pads of your fingers. 

Slowly, you wrap your mouth around his tip once more. You swirl your tongue around him, adoring the way he hisses when you glide your tongue across the slit leaking a salty substance. 

Over the introduction, you try to take him down your throat properly. And he’s a mouthful, literally. He’s a lot. But you try to just enjoy that there’s no real pressure. 

A lot of saliva starts to build in your mouth, and you swallow it around him. You’re awestruck when he lets out a low moan, strong hands weaving through your hair and lightly tugging. Your eyes flutter up to him through your lashes, and he’s looking at you so deliciously. 

You can tell he wants to fuck your mouth, holding his hips back from really letting you have it. And maybe he could do that to you someday, but for now, today was slow. And Joel knew that too. 

Joel gently tucks your hair back, your lips suctioning around his length before he drags you back towards him, indicating for you to start moving, to bob your head. 

It takes a few tries, but you really feel yourself going further down his cock. You breathe through your nose, but it’s hard when you’re trying not to gag around him. Finally, after little to no error, you slip up. His tip unexpectedly hits the back of your throat and you gag around him.  Joel must feel your whole body tense with anxiety because he’s quick to gently hush and console you. Your eyes well up with tears, but your first instinct is to keep him inside your mouth and swallow around him. 

A long, low groan leaves Joel’s mouth, a compliment to your first big challenge. 

“Holy fuck,” he pants, weaving his fingers into your hair and fisting eagerly to keep himself grounded. “You’re doin’ so fuckin’ well, princess, you have no idea, fuck,” he grins. “Try using your hands on what you can’t take, come on, baby.” 

You can feel yourself physically gush at his compliments, your stomach swirling with a newfound desperation. To please. 

With new instructions, you work your hand at his base and pump up and down with the rhythm of your mouth. You worked on gently squeezing and releasing your hand, making Joel go slack-jawed as a husky groan leaves the back of his throat. Sucking and licking and bobbing your head in earnest, he’s already twitching in your mouth. 

“You’ve done this before baby,” his voice drips with a smirk, pulling yourself off for some deep breaths and a few desperate swallows. 

“Haven’t, promise, Joel,” You coo with a proud little smile, your voice thick and wrecked as you continue to pump his cock in the absence of your mouth. 

Joel lets your hair go and guides your hand off his cock before helping you up from the floor. 

Your face is obviously written with disappointment, you could have continued. You sort of wanted to continue despite the ache hanging around in your jaw. 

“You were gonna make me come, don’t wanna come yet, angel,” Joel pants weakly, ducking down and connecting your lips. You’re a little taken aback. Not by the kiss, but by the fact you already had him nearly ready to finish. 

“Really?” You murmur hopefully against his mouth, wishing he wasn’t just saying it to compliment you. 

The way that his features started to twitch and his tummy and chest fluttered with his jagged breathing, it would have been quite a sight to see him finish. Maybe he would have even done it right on your tongue. The thought alone gives you goosebumps. 

Your insides swirl as he licks inside of your mouth and gently runs his tongue along your bottom lip, moving you back towards his desk. You hop up without his instruction, feeling him smirk against your pouted mouth. 

“Now you’re gettin’ a hang of things.” He murmurs into your mouth, carrying on where he had left off before, sinking down to his own knees at the edge of the desk and positioning your feet to rest up on the edge. He seems to stare at the glistening arousal you’ve been creating for the last hour straight. 

That nervous feeling settles in your stomach, completely bare and open for him. A shocked gasp leaves your mouth, not prepared for him already to be diving into your pussy. 

The breadth of his tongue slowly swipes up the center of your core, purposely flicking off of your clit and making you yelp at the contact. His cold tongue piercing against your sensitive bundle made a shiver shoot up your spine. 

He gently smirks as he places a sweet kiss on the inside of your thigh. “You’re jumpy, kitten. Take a breath. Wanna make you feel real good.” 

You let out a shaky sigh and move off your elbows, back flat on his desk as your eyes slowly drift close. Then, as he starts to truly taste you, learning you and what you like, it’s unexpected how much you enjoy it. It never really dawned on you that some people truly enjoy eating pussy, but Joel Miller sure does. 

Your broken little whimpers and strung-out moans turn into writhing on his desk under him. He was such an expert, meticulously swirling his tongue around you and suckling your clit into his mouth. 

It didn’t take long for your fingers to wind up into his hair as his shoulders lay bracketed between your thighs. It was heavy, it was stomach-twisting, in fact, it was rolling through you like a storm. The it in question was your first oral orgasm. 

“J-Joel,” you gasp, your jaw dropping down as he slowly prods the tip of his finger at your entrance. 

“Need to get you ready for my cock, sweet girl, keep focusing on how good you feel,” he encourages. Your face pinches as his finger slowly sinks into your entrance, but you realize how grateful you are for all the extra spit and arousal Joel has provided. 

It doesn’t necessarily hurt, it’s a weird ache at first. But then his finger starts to slowly pump inside of you, and it’s a new craving. Especially with the way his tongue moves around your clit, the pistons in his brain firing all to figure out what you like. 

Do you like when he flicks your clit with his cold metal piercing?

“Ohmygod-” you gasp. 

Do you like when he swirls his naughty tongue around you in tight figure eights? 

“Joel, please,” you say, needing more. 

Did you like it most when he suckles around your sweet bud?

“Joel!” You cry out, tugging tighter at his hair, not sure if you want to tug him closer for more or push him away because it feels too good. 

“O-Oh, oh my god.” Lying still was a foreign thing to you now, all you could do was wiggle and grip your fingers into his hair, tugging harshly as he grunted against your core in enjoyment. 

He actually likes pleasing you, he likes tasting you! It’s a compliment without words as your eyes dip close and your head digs back into the desk.

Suddenly, your stomach starts to drop like you’re on a rollercoaster. You’re not unfamiliar with the feeling of an orgasm, but this, oral, it hits differently. 

“Fuck,” you curse unexpectedly, making Joel cock up an eyebrow as he glances up at you. All you can do is watch as his mouth suckles harder around you, his finger pumping faster and adding a second. 

Because if there’s anyone in this world that can break you out of your shell, Joel wants it to be him. 

Now you’re really aching for him,  wishing that it was his cock slotted between your walls, pushing you towards euphoria. 

“Know you wanna come for me angel,” his fingers quirk upwards in a come here motion, and a long, strung-out moan of his name leaves your lips.

God forbid any of the shop’s workers or clients hear you, but you can’t think of a singular reason to care right now. 

Your walls flex and squeeze around Joel’s two fingers, truly feeling the stretch as you come around his digits. It leaves you a whimpering mess on his desk, hot pants leaving your pretty lips. 

Joel is in heaven, lapping you up and moaning against your core as your clit starts to twitch with the overstimulation. His hands squeeze at the flesh of your thighs before he sits up and kisses up your body, his own lips meeting yours. He’s hungry, and you’re still bouncing back. But you want it so bad, and you’re so close to finally having it. 

“Joel, I’m ready.” You coo, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

He breathily laughs and pecks your lips once more, tasting your own arousal and making you feel warm inside. 

“Desperate for my cock, ain’t that right, pretty girl?” 

God, he was such a menace with his mouth. Your adorably shy grin is all the answer he needs. But you give him one anyway, because he likes when you talk like that with him. 

“Yes, daddy, I just wanna feel it already,” you try out, Joel’s lust-filled eyes meeting yours as white-hot heat spills into your stomach. 

“I’ll give it to ya, baby girl. Wanna give that tight little virgin pussy my cock, don’t want anyone else to have ya. Mine.” Joel huskily grunts, a choked moan leaving your lips. 

Joel reaches past your head and to the drawer on the other side of the desk. He jimmies it open and searches his hand around blindly. He flips open his wallet and pulls a small square foil package from the slot. 

Oh, duh, a condom. In all your excitement, you sort of forgot to be safe. But you’re glad he was prepared. 

You watch with adoration on your features as Joel lifts the condom to his lips, pearly teeth ripping the foil off but not hurting the condom. His other hand rests sweetly on your hip, thumb running soothing circles into your pretty skin. 

It’s a soothing feeling, one that he doesn’t have to do, but he does because he’s being considerate and maybe even a little protective. You gently lay your hand on his forearm, fingers tracing fresh black ink and older green ink on his arm’s sleeve. 

A shaky sigh leaves your lips as he uses both hands to glide the condom down his shaft. It’s nearly invisible, the way it’s so thin and tightly wrapped around his cock. Besides the band that rests at the very bottom of his shaft. He grumbles something incoherent, probably his annoyance with the fussing of the condom and how tight it probably felt around him.  

You take in a shaky breath and nod at him once he comes to rejoin your centers. 

“You’re sure you’re ready for this? Don’t wanna wait for someone y’love? Or trust? Or just... Anybody but me?” Joel’s face is pinched with genuine concern. 

You smile softly and gently cup his cheek. “I do trust you. It takes a lot of trust to allow someone to alter your body forever with a tattoo. So, you’re giving me a tattoo, and you’re taking my virginity. You’re sort of doubling down for me right now, honestly.” 

Joel flashes a genuine little smile. It’s the most you’ve said consistently all day with him, even with a little drip of sarcasm and wit. 

“Okay. But ya gotta say it.” He says more seriously. 

“I’m ready, Daddy. Want you to make me feel good. I know you can.” You can already feel yourself picking up his dirty talk. It makes your smile twitch as you gently grip both of his forearms, his hands spreading your thighs open for him. 

He enters the space, his heavy cock resting over your core and slowly slipping up and down your wet folds. 

You let out an unexpected little scoff as he grinds himself down against you, your arousal soaking the condom. He holds himself at his base and taps his tip down against your already throbbing clit, making you hiss out a desperate whine. 

“M’not usually this… gentle.” He admits through gritted teeth. You’re sort of shocked by that. Sure, he has a rough and tough exterior, but he’s treated you with such delicacy that you assumed he was like this all the time. 

“So, what are you usually like?” You pose, your breath hitching in your throat as one of his hands abandons your thighs and guides his tip from your clit to your entrance, up and down, several times. Your thighs twitch impatiently. Your entrance squeezes around nothing. 

“M’just... not this gentle,” is all he can say without breaking into a bemused smile. 

“Yeah? Maybe you can show me next time what you’re really like.” 

Joel playfully scoffs as his face starts to pierce with concentration. “Not sure if you can handle it, kitten.” 

“I’m sure I-” your words are cut off by a loud gasp, your lips parting as his tip penetrates your walls. You’re phased for a moment before you gulp and recollect yourself. You whimper, louder and louder as he pushes on, watching Joel move with such caution. 

He really is holding back, you think. You wonder what he’s like when he can just fuck how he pleases. 

“Baby,” Joel’s voice breaks your concentration. “Breathe.” 

A loud huff of air leaves your mouth that you hadn’t even realized you were holding in. The ache in your hips and core only builds with tension as Joel pushes on, his length and girth surely parting your tight walls. 

“So fuckin’- tight.” He says with gritted teeth, his fingers piercing into the delicate flesh of your outer thighs, making you whimper. 

“Joel,” you quietly cry for him, tears threatening to spill at the pain. It’s just- a lot. It’s a lot for your first time, and maybe you wouldn’t have signed up if you knew what he was packing, but in a weird way, you loved it. He felt made for you. 

“M’here, angel, look at me.” In all the excitement and overwhelming feelings of pain and pleasure, you hadn’t even noticed you were clenching your eyes closed. You slowly peek them open, greeted by his heavenly features. 

“There’s my girl.” He compliments, warmth and sweetness shooting through your body. 

“Fuck,” you say, your voice a bit wet as Joel comes down closer to aid you. He’s all the way in now, you can feel his balls flushed against your sopping wet cunt. 

The arousal helps, the condom sort of doesn’t but it’s fine, that’s life, you think. You’re torn between pain and pleasure. Honestly, you just feel so fucking full. 

He tells you between breathy pants that he would have used lube if he had any, but he didn’t, and he’s sorry, and his pretty voice starts to turn into static with how fucking good he feels inside of you. 

“You’re doing so good for me, angel,” he praises, sponging a few kisses along your cheeks and tasting your salty tears. You feel like some weak pathetic being under him. He’s been sweet, but you’re sure he’s just treating you like he found a wounded animal. 

“Move, Joel, please” you weakly demand, lassoing your arms around his neck and holding him close to you. 

“No.” He says through gritted teeth. “Just-” he pauses and takes a deep breath, knowing that you’re dealing with a million emotions right now as he’s trying to breathe around the death grip you have on his cock. “Just wait a minute, sweetheart, let yourself adjust.” 

A pouty, bratty sigh leaves your lips as you continue to blink away tears. You eventually nod and he only smiles adoringly as he returns to kiss at the tears.

Your senses are spiked. You can smell his cologne, feel each gristle of hair from his salt and pepper beard. It’s erotic how much more you can feel while at the edge of your emotions. 

One of your hands roams into his darling chocolate curls, instinctually going to gently scrape your nails delicately against his scalp. You’re sweetly surprised to hear him mutter a sweet little moan just for you against the shell of your ear. 

Your hands flutter across dark tattoos on his shoulders and arms, your blurry vision trying to make out the shapes as you trace a pretty angel on his upper bicep. 

Joel Miller was inside of you. Joel Miller has taken your virginity. The hottest man you’ve ever set your eyes on is fucking you at his place of work, on his desk. And you convinced him to. 

Joel was right. The pain, ache, and burn slowly turned into a real yearning for him to move. It felt like what was right, a certain neediness to be filled and fucked.  

“Daddy,” you whisper more sweetly this time, more to your character. “Please fuck me, you feel good now, I can take it. Promise.” 

It takes him a moment to gather himself as well, smiling sweetly as he keeps his mouth by your breasts where he is sucking a gentle hickey into your soft skin. Color flushes to the area, feeling his teeth gently nibble on the spot before he finally lifts off. 

Marking you, you think. It makes another gush of arousal flood your core, liquifying your spine as you become putty in his hands. 

His mouth twitches in a small smile as he captures your lips. Unbeknownst to you, the sweet kiss was just a distraction. 

Joel slowly began reeling his hips back which was a whole new sensation. His strangled moan harmonized with the gasp you let out into his mouth, moaning out the breath you were holding as he plunges himself fully back inside your warm cunt. 

You whimpered weakly, needy and anxiously happy, you wanted more. More, more, more. 

“Oh- my god,” you whimper, feeling him start a steady rhythm inside of you. Your jaw slowly drops and your eyes flutter closed, feeling your tits start to lightly bounce every time his hips perfectly align with your own. 

“So goddamn tight, still,” he grunts each word, forehead against yours as he watches your face unfold with a million reactions. 

Something primal switches in Joel, knowing he’s the first one to do this sort of stuff with you. 

It’s strangely possessive and arrogant, he knows it, but being the first man you trust to fuck you properly was feeding his ego. You’re a beautiful young woman with big doe eyes who waltzed into his shop and insisted he rail you, take your sacred first, talk you through it, and carry you through this dark and fearful forest. 

You trusted him. He wouldn’t break that bond. 

You came here wanting something, knowing how to get it. You came here asking, and Joel was open to teaching. The last thing he wanted was for some asshole to hurt you, something your sweet nature couldn’t afford was poison. 

Maybe he could teach you more, if you wanted. If he offered you an invitation to his world, would you take it? He only shared a slice of his lifestyle with you today, would the rest scare you, or entice you? 

Joel can’t help the way his hips buck faster at his thoughts, a little sob leaving your lips. He’s absent, just for a moment, feeling your skin slap against his as he holds you down and fills you fully. His tip hits your cervix for the first time and heat floods your stomach as you cry out his name. 

“Shit,” he panics and quickly comes back to his senses, wide eyes meeting your bleary ones, “you okay, angel? M’sorry” Joel whispers, returning to his original rhythm. 

“Yes-yes, fuck, please keep going, keep doing that, I can’t believe how good it feels.” 

Joel weakly smirks, proud to see you taking him so well.

The desk squeaks and juts with each of his heavy thrusts, that’s how you know it’s fucking good. You came here wanting to lose your virginity, but now that you’ve unwound Joel Miller, you want him to fucking rail you. 

Licking your lips, you lean up and pepper kisses up his wirey jawline, feeling the patch of hair that fades out and then back in again. He’s so sweet right now, but you wonder what he was talking about before. What was he when he wasn’t gentle? How good would rough feel? Would you like it? Maybe you could learn, explore, adventure. Surely Joel with his experience could be a guiding light. 

You watch with glittery eyes as Joel pulls his head off yours and licks across the pads of his fingers. 

“What are you- shit,” you whimper as his fingers start circling your clit, taking a moment to find your sweet little rhythm, one that somehow matches his hips. Now, your skin is slapping and it’s echoing around the room. Your moans are louder and uncontrollable, as are Joel’s. Your hips ache but you don’t find the will to care, he feels like fucking heaven. 

His cock is somehow inching deeper, as if your walls have decided to invite him in further, where he hits this perfect little spot inside of you that makes you squeak Joel’s name with robbed breaths. 

You’re not sure if you can hold on much longer, your stomach starts to swirl as all the knots inside your belly begin to untie themselves. 

You brace Joel at his shoulders and look into his eyes as you moan his name. A certain hunger flickers behind his dark brown orbs. His jaw clicks and he starts fucking you in earnest, filling you up each time as his hips snap with vigor. He feels fucking amazing, piercing your walls and marking you as his. 

“Joel-”

“Say what I wanna hear, baby,” he rasps. You quickly nod and gulp. 

“Daddy, please, I-I’m so close,” you moan sweetly as your head digs into the desk, jutting your chin up and arching your back. Joel takes full advantage of your breasts in his face, burying his nose in between them and nipping at the sensitive flesh, nearly making you yelp. 

“M’right there with you, angel baby, come for me,” he insists breathlessly.

His hips were losing their precision, going buck-wild, so you knew he was close. But he was holding out for you. 

You clench your eyes closed, feeling yourself lose all control. Your heart races in your chest, beat thrumming in your throat as you hold Joel against your front as his hips continue to snap and fill you. You don’t know what to do with your mouth, so you feverishly land your lips on his and make him mask the moans of your orgasm. 

Joel’s groan echoes loudly into your mouth as you gasp against his lips. Your walls clench eagerly around his cock as he spills into the condom. 

It’s blinding, deafening even. Your face goes slack and your eyes see stars. You think you might be shedding a tear or two because Joel is cupping your face kindly, thumbs swiping under your eyes as he encourages you out of your haze. 

“Lemme see those eyes, pretty girl,” he pants sweetly, watching for any sign of doubt. But he wouldn’t find any. 

You’re not so sure where he starts and you begin, your mind is so fuzzy. 

A soft hum leaves your lips as you soothingly run a hand through his dark hair again, gently stroking the longer curls away from the sheen on his forehead. Both of you were so warm, it felt like a fire was set between you two. When you curl a strand around your finger, you weakly smile as it coils back up and bounces. 

“How was your first time, angel?” Joel pants, still buried balls deep inside of you. Your hips ache, but part of you wasn’t ready for him to pull out yet. 

“I can’t believe I finished twice.” You admit with a shy smile, running a thumb up his cheekbone and glancing up at his eyebrow piercing. He notices you staring but keeps his eyes on your own.  

“Did it hurt?”

He shakes his head. 

“What about the one in your nose?”

He shakes his head again, this time with a smile. 

“Or your tongue?” 

This one made him ponder before he finally gave a light shrug. 

“You don’t remember the pain after a while. Just like tattoos. The pain is temporary.” 

Your mouth tilts in a lopsided smile, feeling messy with both of your spillages still puddled around your centers. 

Joel grunts as he slowly stands up from his bent-over position on the desk, pulling himself out of you and tying up the condom before he tosses it into the waste bin. 

You whine quietly to yourself as you close your legs. It hurts a little more now. Your hips and your core, a certain soreness. Or maybe it was missing him already. 

“Oh,” you whisper, starting to feel a little bit of leakage glide down your thigh. “Joe, do you-” 

“Course,” Joel says assuringly, hands already on a towel as he neals down and gently glides the material up the inside of your thigh. You bite down on your lip as he cleans you up with the soft towel and a little bit of water. 

You glance around the sterilized room and realize he’ll probably have to scrub this place down for the most part. Whoops. 

You’re slow to dress. Joel’s already buttoned his pants by the time you find your panties. He snickers quietly and helps you dress with a smirk. 

It’s not awkward like you feared it would. It sort of felt like you guys were friends. Then, something sort of unexpected happens. 

Joel fondly strokes a hair out of your face, pushing it behind your ear and smoothing out the little knots he had caused while fisting your hair during his blowjob. He’s soft and gentle with you. It makes you oh so curious what he looks like when he’s not soft and gentle. 

You sigh softly as you look at yourself in the mirror. You sort of felt proud, like you’d be a whole new person leaving the shop today. Even without a tattoo. 

“Joel, I don’t want anyone to see me leaving your office.” 

“That ashamed of me, huh?” He scoffs at you playfully, running his hand up and down his chest hair before he finally throws on his shirt. “I have the back office, so we can just go out that door.” He juts up his chin to behind you and you follow his eyeline. “Goes to the alley behind the shop.” 

You note the dark green painted exit door, and you’re thankful you don’t have to parade through the front of the shop or go past any other clients. 

The gentleman that he is, Joel walks you to your car as dusk settles in, marking the sky an orange and red horizon.  

“I gotta clean up the shop and close. You gonna be okay until I see you next?”

You nod meekly, a sweet smile on your face that twinges with a little shyness. “I’ll be okay. I still need that tattoo.” You tease to which he grins. 

“You do. I’ve worked real hard on it, so you better come back an’get it.” 

You nip at your lower lip as he stays guarded by your window, like a handsome pierced, and tatted bodyguard. 

It’s itching at you too much to let it go. You’re just too curious. “M’not this gentle.” 

“Yeah? Maybe you can show me next time what you’re really like.” 

“Not sure if you can handle it, kitten.” 

You gulp and clutch his hand before he fully stands up to walk away from your car. “You’ll show me again sometime? Like you said?”

Your eyes glimmer with a certain hopefulness, but his own seem to harden out of caution. 

It was just insane that he knew so much more than you. You wanted to unlock all forms of pleasure you were comfortable with. You like that he was holding something back. 

You were wet clay in his massive hands, he could mold you to his liking. You could learn his pleasures, his kinks, what unravels him beyond repair. You could learn a thing or two about yourself in the process. 

Joel sighs. 

“You don’t know what you’re askin’ for.” He warns, lips crooked in a snarl. His eyes beg for you not to want him, not to want this. 

But nothing set your nerves on fire like seeing him in control of you, just that brief second where his eyes flashed from amber to black and he fucked you like nothing or no one was stopping him. What if you gave it all up to him? 

Submissiveness dances behind your eyes, and Joel’s a sucker for that sweet look on your face. He debates if this is what you really want, or if it’s something else. He can’t deny he enjoys the trust you put in him. 

Joel quietly sighs with hesitation, eyes the way your small hand desperately holds his before he finally squeezes back. 

“You don’t know how t’take no for an answer, do ya?” He asks, a small smirk twitching at the corners of his mouth. “That’ll have to change.” 

You grin and nod, biting down on your lower lip as you shift uncomfortably in your seat. Joel takes notice, not wanting to see you in any sort of discomfort, especially from something he caused. 

“Take some pain medicine and relax tonight, angel. You were perfect.” 

Your heart swells at the compliment, the appreciation, the care. He gently pats your window a few times before standing up straight and backing up from your car, moving back towards the dark green exit door. “I’ll see you soon.” 

Driving away, you’re giddy with excitement of the unknown. It was a dark path you wanted to pursue. And maybe it was fucking stupid how you could trust a complete stranger like this, how none of your past partners felt worthy of your first time, but the tattooed and pierced old southern gentleman did. It was fucked. But you were sort of fucked for Joel Miller. 

You hum to the radio as you experience pure adrenaline, thumb gliding over the raised numbers on his business card. You glance down and notice a small stamp of a fern in the top right corner, adjacent to his name and professional title. 

The Obsidian Gallery 

Joel Miller

Senior Tatoo Artist

You can’t explain how your heart inadvertently races as you remember flashes of his hips rutting into yours, those same delicate fern leaves decorating the front of his hips. You were so fucked for Joel Miller. 

next chapter ->

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #The Last Of Us #tlou #the last of us fic #joel miller tlou #pedro pascal #joel miller pedro pascal #daddy dd/sub #dd/sub kink #dd!joel miller #dom/sub

[onlyjaes]

hands (p.sh)

pairing. stepdad!sunghoon x fem!reader

— 𖦹 warnings. taboo relationship (stepcest), pwp, choking, fingering, cunnilingus, degradation, hair pulling, multiple orgasms

authors note. don't like it, don't read

(18+) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

you're thinking about hands.

long, slim fingers and knuckles that are a little prominent, a little pinker than the pale skin it is against. rough but careful ministrations, cradling the back of your head even as they yank your hair, pulling your head around so your gaze meets his.

hands, hands, hands... thumb brushing your lower lip before pushing past to rest on your tongue. hands on your neck, just enough pressure to have you seeing stars. or maybe no pressure at all. maybe they sit loose around the base of your throat like a collar to remind you of your place. they dip just below the neckline and you hope they’ll go further. 

hands that press forward, hands running along your body, along every tender place—neck, waist, thigh. hands that still at the slightest response from you, pausing in a way that you can feel the smugness through his fingertips. 

he loves it when you beg, he demands it of you; not with his words, but with fingers curled just right, with your legs draped over his and his breath hot on your neck. the only thing he loves more than hearing you beg is knowing you’re too far gone to do so, too fucked out to form words. he can pinpoint the moment it happens, too... feels it in the skip of your pulse, the way you clench around him. he loves making you look at him with a hand on your jaw and another between your legs, watching as you struggle to pull your eyes back into focus. "c’mon, baby, look at me, you can do it, yes, good, so good for me..." you want to pull him closer after that. sloppy open-mouth kisses, his tongue sucking yours as you cry out and ankles locked around his waist and hands clutching at his shoulders desperately, and...

“class dismissed for today! remember to turn in your papers by..."

class is over already? but you could have sworn you’d just opened up your laptop and logged on but your professor seems very clearly to be wrapping things up. a quick glance at the clock confirms that yep, you’ve been checked out for the last half hour of the lecture.

you need to spend more time focusing on your schoolwork, and less time lusting over your stupid hot stepdad.

-

sunghoon isn’t an idiot. he knows hooking up with his own stepdaughter is a bad idea. it is probably the worst idea he's had. he knows his wife would kill him.

but you’re making it incredibly hard for him to remember that.

you, prancing around the apartment in ankle socks and tiny little shorts paired with oversized sweaters that hang off your shoulder and make it look as though you aren’t wearing any shorts at all. you and all your casual touches... a kiss on the cheek when you thank him for doing some chore for you, a head resting on his shoulder when you sit next to each other on the couch, a hand on his arm as you pass him in the hall. you, sweet-voiced and soft-eyed and blushing at everything he says... dirty or otherwise. 

you, buying a vibrator. 

he’s always been curious about your sex life yeah, but you haven’t given him much to work with. you weren’t really in the habit of bringing anyone home. there was that one asshole named jungwon or whatever you’d been dating long-term when sunghoon first married your mom, but you always slept over at his place. sunghoon met him a few times and seen the way he treated you. it didn’t take him much more than five minutes of knowing the guy to be pretty sure there were zero orgasms happening. 

and now… you broke up with jungwon. now you spend your nights in your room. now you share a wall with... your mom and stepdad.

and now you own a vibrator.

he wonders if he’ll be able to hear you. he's been living here almost for a year. surely you must have gotten off in that time. he can just picture you biting down on your lip, brows slightly knit as you shake and tense and arch off the mattress.

he’s always liked his partners vocal but for some reason the thought of you in his bed trying so desperately to stay quiet just makes him want to rise to the challenge. already you make the prettiest noises whenever you’re startled or excited or shy. given the chance he could coax a fucking symphony out of you, he just knows it. he just doesn’t know when such an opportunity will ever come.

as it turns out, though, opportunity does knock... and sooner than either of you would have ever thought.

friday night. your mom is working late and you're eating dinner with your stepdad. he has that stern look on his face 24/7 so you suggest cracking open a bottle of wine to share. to your surprise... sunghoon agrees.

he's always been on the stricter side. he always frowns when you do anything... risky. so you didn't think he would say yes to drinking with you.

neither of you are drunk drunk yet but the combination of alcohol and being alone together makes you both start playing never have i ever in your room. you both have glasses of wine in your hands. his pretty hands.

"never have i ever... uh... gotten married." you smirked and your stepdad just rolled his eyes at you.

"very funny."

"okay you go."

"never have i ever gone my whole life without cumming even once."

you turned completely hot as you wondered if he meant that.

"what?! where did that come from?"

sunghoon nods at the box with your vibrator. you just now realize that it's sitting wide open on your nightstand and you blush.

"just assumed."

you sit up quickly. "i just got out of a yearlong relationship okay. what... you think i've never cum?"

"have you?"

"yes..." he tilts his head and you get flustered. "yes god, yes! yes, i've had an orgasm before!"

"but...?"

you aren't sure what it is about this night, this moment that makes you so honest with him. is it the alcohol? or his gaze? the clear and cruel behind his glasses? "only by myself," you whisper and cross your legs to hide the ache between them. "never because of someone else..."

to your surprise he doesn't laugh or mock you for your answer. he purses his lips and shrugs. sighs. "at least you can get off on your own."

"yeah i guess... i just," you look back at the box, "it's different having someone touching you. i'd rather have that... without the orgasms.... if i had to choose." you look up at him shyly and look away. the atmosphere grows serious, vulnerable, and intimate. and then your stepdad snickers. you look up at him. "what?"

"you don't have to choose."

you roll your eyes. "yeah right."

"i'm serious."

"pfft. aren't you confident? are you sure no one's faked it with you?"

"faked it? possibly. but unlikely."

"jungwon couldn't tell i was faking it."

your stepdad scoffs, "he's a boy. he doesn't know how to pleasure you like a man."

"like you can do any better."

he goes quiet. it's unlike him... so unexpected, and you almost ask him what's wrong. but he says "come here" in a low voice.

"what?"

"come here y/n."

you haven't had enough to drink to be drunk. but as you move across the mattress toward him, you kinda know what's coming and you want to jump into him. you've been touched before, cuddled, but there's something different tonight. something about the way he pulls you onto his lap so that you're straddlign him. something about the feeling of his hand on your thigh, his palm on your cheek, his warm chest against yours.

"was that a challenge dear?" he asks.

"what if it was?"

-

sunghoon isn’t sure which one of you makes the first move or who leans in first but it doesn’t matter, because how many times has he fantasized about exactly this? how many times has he sat there on the couch with your head on his lap as you watched some mind-numbing chick flick, run his hands through your hair and beat back the urge to yank?

he doesn’t hold back now. one hand curls into a fist and he pulls your head back, forcing you to look up at him. but that's his stepdaughter! he can't just... fuck your cheeks are flushed and lips slightly parted—

he wants to fucking ruin you.

your hands are still against his chest but they went slightly limp in surprise at having your hair pulled. when he slides his hand up the back of your shirt, you seem to come back to life, winding your arms around his neck. you’re breathing faster than usual and he can feel your nipples through your shirt and you’re tugging at the collar of his shirt and yeah, if he doesn’t get your clothes off sometime in the next thirty seconds he’s going to go insane.

he doesn’t tear your shirt in half... he has more self control than that. much easier to just pull it up and force your arms above your head, and then before you can bring them back down, push you gently so that you fall on the bed, legs still parted around his hips and eyes wide. he tugs off your shorts and underwear, and you grab a fistful of the front of his shirt to bring him crashing back into you for a desperate open-mouthed kiss. he catches the back of your neck with one hand mostly for support, his hand big enough in comparison to your neck that he’s able to rest his thumb just below your jaw. when he gives your neck an experimental squeeze you gasp into his mouth.

interesting. 

you as quiet as he'd expected. just gasps and whimpers. it’s cute. it’s also infuriating. he wants to hear you. he wants to hear you moan, beg, scream. and he doesn’t need a vibrator to do it.

you’re playing with the hem of his shirt. your fingers are electric against his skin and the slight touch sending flickers of desire careening through his veins and it’s too much and not enough and he reaches around your back to snap open the hook of your bra a moment before he lets you pull his shirt over his head, and there are no words to explain how it feels to have his stepdaughter's bare chest flush against his... to reach down and feel how wet you are. you’re soft and warm and so so wet, it’s driving him crazy and he isn’t even inside you yet.

as he pulls away and backs up to stand once more by the edge of the bed, you get into as upright a position as you can manage, trying to brace yourself on your elbows. “what are you...?"

the mattress slips out from under you as he pulls you forward by the waist, positioning you so that your hips are in line with the end of the bed as he sinks to his knees and buries his face in your cunt.

he doesn’t move slowly and doesn’t ease you into it. one moment you’re lying there bewildered, and the next you’re trying to buck your hips up against his face. trying because he’s holding you down with enough force you half expect to find his fingerprints there tomorrow.

he listens to you, pausing until you whisper yes and please. he takes each twitch of your legs and sharp intake of breath into consideration as he finds each sweet spot and latches onto them with precision. 

you scrabble for something to hold onto, grasping at the sheets. he takes enough pity on you to reach one hand up... the other on your hips keeping you firmly in place... his pretty fingers interlacing with yours. another lick has you arching off the bed with your head thrown back and it takes you a moment to realize he’s guided your hand to the back of his head. 

you thread your fingers loosely through his hair careful not to pull. he can tell you’re holding back because he makes a frustrated noise against you and then he turns his head and bites your thigh, his free hand pushing your hand against his hair. when he sucks on your clit again it’s startling and sweet and so intense that you don’t think twice about tightening your grip... unconsciously guiding him exactly where you need him. 

the first time you really let go and tug at his hair he lets out a growl, pleased and primal. sunghoon's hold on your hips loosens, allowing you to ride his face in earnest with all your shy manners gone and forgotten as the overwhelming wave of sensations narrows to a point of pure excruciating pleasure and you finally cum.

he doesn’t stop.

why would he? now that he finally has you where he wants you. and vice versa if the way you’re still writhing on the bed is any indication. you’re still frustratingly quiet but the sight of you so lost in sensation and twitching with the aftershocks is enough to sate him for now.

you’re overstimulated for sure with your hand weak against his temple but all your protests are replaced by whispered pleas for more, oh fuck, more, daddy, more please as he slips one finger inside you. slowly. wet as you are and relaxed from your first orgasm of the night. 

did you really think he’d stop at one? the thought makes him chuckle against you. he's two knuckles deep and to his delight he gets something more than a gasp. he repeats the motion and adds another finger and oh, oh, you sound just as good as he’d imagined. better, so much better. he moves harder and faster, working you out until he feels you tensing, feels you right on the edge...

... and he stops.

you whine. you’re turning your head up to look at him. he’s pleased to see what a mess you look: flushed face, messy hair, your lips kiss-swollen. your eyes still clear and soft with the afterglow of your previous orgasm. “why did you stop?”

he lets out a low thoughtful hum before turning to face you. “what’s the matter?” you’re taken aback by his eagerness across his face. he licks his thumb and smirks and you bite your lip. “one isn’t enough?”

"ah... uh..."

he climbs up the bed to meet you in another bruising kiss, the taste of you still on his lips and your legs spreading further to allow his hips to slot between them. once you’ve helped him get off all clothing below the belt you melt into his touch only to be jolted back when he rolls over to pull you on top of him.

“i stopped,” your stepdad grunts, getting a good handful of thigh to squeeze and smirking when he hears your moans, “because this time you’re going to cum on my cock my pretty girl.”

he pulls you against him as if to demonstrate and you can’t help but let out another louder sigh at the feeling of him long and hard and throbbing against you. you sit up to align yourself and the first press of him inside you is so good that your head tips back and your lower lip caught between your teeth as you bite back another moan. 

sunghoon's voice is mocking but he breaks as you slide down to be seated fully against him with the tip of his cock practically kissing your cervix. “fuck... such a cock hungry whore.... cum once already and you’re still so tight. is this what you needed?” he starts leading you in an achingly slow rhythm and relishing in the way you clench around him with every thrust. you nod as your eyes flutter shut. the sting of his hand on your ass makes you whimper. “c’mon little girl. want to hear you say it.”

“say... oh fuck, i, fuck, daddy." you moan.

“you act so innocent. i bet you think about me fucking your pretty pussy all the time huh? you think of your stepdad fucking you? behind your mom's back? huh? tell me.” he fucks up into you hard, his hands on your hips pinning your hips to the mattress. “convince me you deserve to cum.”

when you reach for your clit he catches your wrists in one hand. “please.”

“please what?”

“please let me cum daddy.“

he shakes his head. “not good enough. if you’re desperate enough to grind on my cock then your slutty enough to tell me exactly what you want me to do to you.” 

desperate, slutty... you’d never realized until now that degradation was something that turned you on. you bite your lip one last time and your eyes fix on his. “i want to cum on your cock. please daddy, fuck."

"that so? you want your stepdad to fuck you? aren't you such a dirty whore?"

"y-yes... i want you to fuck me hard. want you to fuck me all night." he rewards you with a few fingers circling your clit and you almost choke on a moan. ”i want you to fuck me into the mattress until i can’t think straight.”

sunghoon can’t help but shudder at that... at the sound of you. you, his shy and not-so-innocent stepdaughter. such filthy words in your sugar-sweet voice.

it’s only a matter of seconds before he has you on your back with your legs draped over his shoulders and he's filling you up at an almost brutal pace. he’s rewarded with the shaking of your legs and the frantic drag of your nails across his back, and most of all the way you can’t help but moan with each thrust as you grow closer and closer to falling over the edge.

when you cum again you seem to melt into him, clenching and squelching around him with the prettiest cries he’s ever heard and that’s all it takes for him to pull out so that he can come on your stomach. you’re still twitching as he does and all he can think as he collapses next to you is that he’d give anything to see you like this, fucked out and hazy and covered in his seed every day for the rest of his life. 

“two orgasms,” he finally says, once the two of you have spent a few minutes in silence. “easy. your ex must be even more of an idiot than i thought.”

without thinking you press a kiss to his shoulder. “thanks,” you whisper. he doesn’t answer... not at first. not out loud. but a moment later you feel him shift, reaching across you to grab something from the nightstand. then he’s above you and kissing you. it's soft, deep, sleepy in your mutual post-orgasmic haze and you sense some mischief behind it. when he pulls back you see it in his eyes as well.

you blink up at him. “what are you..."

“making you cum a third time.” you can do nothing but grab your stepdad's shoulder again as he reaches down to lower the vibrator to your clit and as you whine again at the sting. you feel his free hand on your cheek and take two of those long pretty fingers into your mouth. he smirks at you. “why don't we test your limits baby?”

#enhypen hard hours #sunghoon smut #enhypen smut