i've read over hundereds of h.s fanfictions. started five years ago and i'm still at that restaurant lol, i'll keep updating these as i dive deeper into my archive, these are the best fics i've read. they're all x oc. they are LONG! almost ninety huge chapters per book
if you have fics for me to read! please send them my way!
✶ spotlight
enemies to lovers + fake dating + actor! h.s + actress! oc
ps: there is a book two but it hasn't been updated in a while!
✶ cherry
friends to lovers + soft romance + song writer! oc + singer! h.s
there is a book two it's completed!
✶ kiwi
fwb + freak show lowk
✶ hidden
enemies to lovers + corporate gangs
please read these are your own risk. there are mature themes and lot's of violence but the writing is flawless
✶ stall
one of my favourites! it's so so beautiful
there is a book two! and a prologue both completed!
✶ malignant
the character development is genuinely magical. zero plot holes!
there is a book two and book three and a one-shot series! all completed!
✶ duplicity
rockstar! h.s
there is a book two which is still updating!
› a/n: i randomly decided to write these out and they’re pretty lengthy so enjoy this thread of older boyfriendrry ;)
reader is in their twenties btw!!
part two here & part three
» | - In the mornings before Harry goes on his runs, he always leaves a note on your bedside table. “Hey angel, went for my run. When I get back, I hope you’re awake. We can get coffee and breakfast burritos at that cafe you like. I love you, my sleepy girl. - H”
» | - When you’re meeting Harry’s friends for the first time, he knows how nervous you may be, not only because it’s your first time meeting them but also because of your age. Yet, he reassures you they will never judge you. In the end, you get along well with his close circle and even hang out with them alone when he’s busy.
» | - Harry never claimed he was a good boyfriend. It’s a common theme in his songs. But he really tries to be good, especially since he’s older and has more experience and a more mature lifestyle than you. When you two argue or disagree about something, it’s often a mix of miscommunication and pettiness from both sides. Still, with a deep breath and a few minutes of silence to think straight, he can fix it all by apologizing and admitting if he was wrong, and sometimes letting you know if you were wrong too.
» | - Though he’s quite a bit older, you bring him back to those younger years when you tell him about a college class you dread or drama happening in your friend group. He loves when you spill tea to him in the middle of the day, even over dinner or lunch.
» | - “Please baby. You know I can’t wait any longer. I’m sorry, I’ll be so good.” He whines when you make him wait for what he's so needy for. When you’re straddling his waist without lowering yourself onto his hard length yet, or just hovering right over his mouth so he can’t get his “breakfast” in the mornings.
» | - Harry? A bad kisser? Never. If anything, he’s the best kisser you’ve ever been with. He’s a grabby man in private, always wanting to touch you in some way. His lips, his hands, legs, skin. Anything, he’s laying on you or touching skin to skin.
» | - When you’re out on girls’ nights at clubs or parties your friends throw, he’s always there to drop you off and pick you up if he isn’t staying. If he does stay, he’s always following you around like a lost puppy. He encourages you to dance, grab as many cupcakes or treats as you want, and of course, to drink. He takes such good care of you if you get too tipsy or drunk. He doesn’t drink when he’s out with you unless he feels like it, then he’ll get a car to and from the place. Still, he always wants to stay alert when he’s with you. Sober and present.
» | - His least favorite part about being with you is having to leave. When he knows he has to travel somewhere else, he gets clingy and wants to soak in every cuddle, kiss, or feeling of you around him. Once he has to leave, he holds you tightly with his bags by his feet. “I’ll miss you every second I’m away. I’m sorry I have to go, I don’t want to, you know that, yeah?” he says, wiping away any tears from the goodbye. Once on the plane, he sends as many texts as he can along with a selfie from his seat, telling you how much he already misses you.
» | - When you’re both out shopping he loves spoiling you completely and utterly rotten. Anything you look at, he tells you to grab. When he needs to run to a meeting? He hands over his wallet in seconds. You never have to ask, and if you do? You easily get a “Anything you want, darling.”
» | - Does Harry get mad at you? Maybe once in a while, and it’s usually about one thing. Communication. You often forget to text back while walking home from class and fall asleep after a long, grueling day, leaving him worried if you made it home safely. But once he checks your location, he feels a bit better. Sometimes he even rushes over to your apartment and finds you fast asleep on the couch. All his anger and worry drain away when he sees your sleepy face squished against the pillows. Knowing where you keep the throw blankets, he brings one over and lays it on you. He doesn’t leave your apartment after that in fact, he sleeps on the smaller couch across from you to make sure you know he’s there.
» | - Harry is a devoted man. One taste of you, and he already knew you were trouble, one of the many nicknames he calls you. Trouble was definitely one of them.
| Joel didn’t know why he’d let his little brother convince him a night at the bar was what he needed. But he might need to listen to him more. Smut!
[this is pure FILTH. I don’t know what came over me, I need this out my system and I need Joel in mine STAT. If you’re a minor pls don’t interact, this is not a safe space.]
Warnings; language, drinking, age gap (Joel is in his late forties, reader is 21) masturbation reference, daddy, unprotected sex, p in v, fingering, oral (both receiving), over stimulation, come eating?let me know if I’ve missed anything
"Still haven't gotten your dick wet, huh?" was Tommy's way of greeting his brother.
Joel grumbled something, propping his foot on the coffee table in front of him. "Get lost, Tommy."
He'd thought that with his daughter, Sarah, at summer camp he'd get six weeks of peace, get work done, maybe take his daughter somewhere nice when she got back. But he forgot he had a brother and he forgot how annoying he was.
Sure, six weeks without his kid was a perfect and maybe a once-in-a-lifetime to get his dick 'wet' as Tommy put it. But he'd been out the game for years, out of practise. He wouldn't know how or who to approach.
"C'mon, what kind of brother would I be if I let you mope around alone in the house," he said, whacking Joel on the shoulder.
"A good one." Joel took a swing of his beer, watching the sport without knowing what team was doing what.
Tommy turned off the tv and snatched away Joel's beer, getting him up from the sofa. "There's a bar I know where everyone looking to get fucked goes, c'mon."
Joel decided he didn't want to know how his brother knew this place but as Tommy was already grabbing his truck keys and heading out the door. He'd be damned if he let Tommy drive his truck.
Yeah... that was why he was going...
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The bar was already loud when he and Tommy got there and ordered their beers. Joel would have one, maybe another if he was here long enough but then he'd go home and... see to himself if he had to.
It would have been nice to have something for the evening. It had been a long time and his own fist wasn't enough. He had a pick if he needed, he guessed. He wasn't immune to all the single middle aged mom's around him that would talk to him on the school drop off, invite him to one of their garden parties. Even some with rings on their fingers always lingered too long when shaking his hand or asking for some 'construction' advice.
But none of them did anything for him.
Tommy patted his brother on the back as he winked at the lady behind the bar. "See anything you like, yet?"
They'd been there... what? Ten minutes.
Then yes, he saw something he liked and his jaw almost dropped.
Tommy spotted the way he stilled and followed his gaze. "Holy shit."
You were with three girls- your friends, Joel assumed- and a guy hanging onto you, an arm draped around your hips. You were nursing a drink, laughing with your friends, tongue darting out to the straw of your cocktail.
Joel was done. He knew it immediately.
You were only twenty-one, young and beautiful and worse, Sarah's baby-sitter. Sure, his daughter was fourteen but on the late nights he had to work he didn't like to leave her alone.
Enter you. Good grades, polite, always called him Mr Miller like it wasn't the hottest thing. You stayed every night Joel needed to work, you cooked for Sarah, even ensured there was left overs for Joel and Tommy sometimes.
You'd tidy when he never asked, you never drank the beers he left for you. You were perfect.
And Joel knew, the first day you'd baby-sat his daughter over a year ago he'd made a mistake. He knew it when he watched you walk down his porch, when he started offering you lifts home and wishing you'd accept, when he had a wet dream like a horny teenager and it was you under him.
This was some cruel joke.
As if you could hear his thoughts your eyes caught over the noise of the bar. There was shock registering first and then you were dismissing your group to walk over to the Millers.
Joel gulped when he spotted what you were wearing. A tight high collared shirt, your hair pinned and the shortest skirt with heels.
Like a present to be un-wrapped...
"If it isn't the Miller brothers," you grinned.
"Hey darlin'," Tommy greeted first, reaching up to give you a small hug.
Joel's jaw clenched as you hugged him back. But Tommy was respectful, hands staying high on your body. Better than Joel would do.
You pulled away and smiled at Joel. "Mr Miller."
He nodded, taking a swig of his beer as he watched your tongue dart out in search for the straw. Fuck.
Tommy held a hand on your back. "I gotta take a leak, keep him company would you."
Joel didn't know what kind of game his little brother was playing.
"Of course," you smiled, sliding into the seat Tommy had vacated. "Don't I strive to look after the Millers."
Tommy chuckled and winked at Joel as he disappeared into the crowd.
"Hi there," he drawled.
You smiled. Maybe it was the lighting, or the alcohol, but your eyes were darker than he'd ever noticed. "Hey. Didn't expect to see you here tonight."
"Sarah's at camp," he said. He was painfully aware you knew. You hadn't been around in two weeks because he'd had no reason to ask you. Well, no appropriate reason.
"She enjoying it?" you threw a leg over yours, grazing his leg as you did.
"Think so," he said, "what about you, huh? Enjoyin' your freedom?"
You chuckle. "You know I love working for you, Mr Miller."
"Joel," he corrected you. He took a swing of his beer, watching you watch him.
"Jo-el," you draw out his name.
Something in Joel stirred, his pants couldn't be growing tighter, right? Thank god for the dim lighting.
He cleared his throat. "So this is where the kids hang out these days, huh?"
"I dunno about kids?" you said, leaning your body over slightly. "Am I a kid?"
Joel let his eyes wander down. The expanse of your legs, the skirt riding up your thighs and the way your chest rose and fell with your breath. Then slowly, he trailed back up your body. "I guess not."
Of all those times he'd watched you from the porch, you'd always looked back at him at least once, maybe twice to give a little wave as he leaned on the door. Or when you'd started accepting his lifts home and would always linger in his seat when he turned the engine off, the two of you leaning over the console and chattering a bit longer. Or when it came to staying to watch a game with him when Sarah had gone to bed when he knew you hated sport.
Of all those times he'd never let his mind wander as much as it was not.
"Tommy dragged me out," said Joel, taking more of his beer.
"He dragged you?" you chuckled. "You didn't want to come?"
"I'm glad I did," he said.
You take a longer sip of your drink, nodding. "I'm glad you did too."
Joel watched you a second as you tilted your head, a small tilt to your head. "You wanna another drink?" he asked. He wasn't even sure how much you'd had already. Was all this new look and attitude the cocktails talking?
"I should be good," you muse.
Joel decided in that moment he'd either spend the rest of the night in your company, or go home alone. "Your friends not missing you?" he didn't even want to look back at your friends maybe waiting for you. Or that guy watching you.
You also didn't care to look back. "Let them."
Joel smirked as he brought his bottle to his lips. "Atta girl."
He heard your intake of breath and felt satisfied. Your leg kicked off your other one and had grazed his, going down and down and he was sure you weren't doing this on accident. Not anymore.
"You can't say things like that," you chuckle, shuffling in your seat.
God, your thighs were pressing together tightly. Such a pretty sight...
You leaned over in your seat. "Do you know how many women would kill to hear you say that to them?"
"Well, i'm saying it to you, ain't I?"
You look at him through your lashes and Joel's legs widen to accommodate for the rising need in his crotch. It was wrong. It was so wrong. It was crossing a line. "I think I'll take that drink, if you're still offering?"
Joel nods and waved someone over to get you the same. The two of you talked a little more as you waited, your drink sliding over moments later.
"It must get lonely," you said, fingers dancing around the condensation of the glass. "That house all alone."
It seemed both of you had forgot about Tommy at that point.
The game being played between the two of you suddenly seemed real to Joel. "You tryin' to get an invite over?"
"Maybe."
You didn't miss a beat.
Joel looked at you. People were piling into the bar, music was being played but all he could focus on was you.
Your hand darted out, your fingers grazing his knee.
He looked down at his knee, where you touched him. Could you make out the dent in his jeans. "You know, i'm old enough to be your father."
"So should I start calling you daddy?"
He chocked on his beer. He managed to finish it, smirking to himself. "You got a mouth on you."
"You started it looking at me like that."
Joel rested against the bar. "I'm your employer."
You shrug. "And i'm not at work."
Joel looked around the bar and found his brother making out with a woman at the furthest end. He was sorted. "Why do you hang out here, huh kid?" if what Tommy told him was true he wasn't sure he could handle the idea of you coming here, looking out for someone that wasn't him.
You shrug. "It's a good bar, good drinks, good company usually."
"Usually?" he teased, his hands on his thighs. "You know, Tommy told me some filthy things around this place."
You lick your lips, holding back amusement. "Really?" you stand to your feet, leaning on the bar closer to him. You slot perfectly between his thighs.
His hand danced close to your hip but didn't touch you. Not yet. "People come here for one thing."
"Enlighten me, Joel."
His name from your lips made his brain fuzzy, effecting him more than any beer. But he couldn't do it, god, he couldn't stop thinking about it. Of the counter. Of how good you'd look bent over the counter, tight skirt bunched up at your hips.
But the words failed with him.
It was like you could tell, like you knew every move of his and every twitch.
You take one more sip of your drink before sliding it over the counter.
Joel watched as you got to your feet and worry rose on him. Worry he'd lose all he wanted.
"I'm going around the back, i'm going to be there for two minutes before I call an uber to go home. See you."
You meant it to. He watched you walk off, only briefly waving to your friends as you wove in and out of the people.
You were giving him two minutes to fuck over his life.
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You waited, and waited for what you thought was two minutes. Truth be told you didn’t have a watch and lingering around the back of the bar probably wasn’t the greatest idea.
You could tap your foot and wait, rethinking your words and actions and hope that every time the door swung open, it would be your boss.
Joel fucking Miller. What game were you playing? More to the point, what was he doing?
Looking at you like that, carelessly letting his eyes wander as he imagined everything he wanted to do to you? You weren’t immune to his looks, his touches that lasted too long and the way he always watched you walk up to your front door, the engine only roaring once you were safe inside.
But now it seemed- faced with the ultimatum of fucking you or leaving you as nothing but his daughter’s babysitter- he was choosing the latter.
You’d really thought your lonely nights with only toys and fingers for company may have been rectified.
As you push yourself off the wall you really thought-
A sudden strong and rough hand grabbed your wrist and turned you back until you were against the wall and until lips were on yours.
You knew the scent, knew the strength of the body as Joel Miller pressed himself against you, groaning and licking into your lips.
You hands are in his hair, tugging at the curls of black and grey as you let him feel all your body, his arms caging you in and hand dragging down and down and-
"That was three minutes, sweet girl," Joel’s beard scratched your neck as he dragged his lips over your pulse.
You hold back a moan. The music in the bar was loud and the only people coming this way were the ones looking for a quick piss. Still you wanted nobody to stop this. "Wanted to give you a chance."
He nodded into your neck, biting the skin and winning a gasp from you. Joel tilted his head back, searching your gaze that only saw him. "Tell me you want this."
You nod. "I want it."
His hand cupped your cheek, thumb dragging down your bottom lip. He watched, entranced. "You’d let me down anything, wouldn’t you?" He whispered, looking as if he wasn’t all there. That some part of his mind was already fucking you against the wall.
You lower your head until you can reach the pad of his thumb, kissing the tip. "I want it."
"Oh, fuck baby," he groaned, pushing the pad of his thumb further into your mouth. Promises of things to come. "You’re gonna kill me sweet girl."
Your hand ran down his stomach until it meant the tightness of his pants and running up and down until you could feel the press of his length in your palm.
Joel indulged for a minute. His thumb in the warmth of his mouth while your other hand rubbed him right. Then he snapped back into reality as the door banged on the wall.
Not there.
Against himself, he took his thumb from you and grabbed your wrist, alerting you.
"I need your word that if we do this, Sarah doesn’t find out," he said sternly.
You chuckled. "Well I’m hardly gonna tell her I screwed her dad, am I?"
"Hey," he held one finger in front of your face, defying your smirk. "Your word, little miss, or I can drop you off home and you can watch while I take care of the problem you created."
You gulped. Maybe for a moment you forgot it was Mr Miller you were affronted with. Quickly, you nodded your head.
"Good girl," he surged forward and sucked on the bottom of your lip, his hips digging into yours. He groaned as you ground on him, nails digging into his biceps. "Feel wha’ you do to me, huh? You know how many times I’ve had to fuck my own fist and think of you?"
You practically melt at his words, leaning back into the wall. "Joel… please."
"Please what? Huh?" he taunted, rutting his clothed hips into your own, biting down on his lip as you threw your head back, moaning at the sensation. "C'mon, tell me what you want. Be a good girl and say it."
"I want you to fuck me," you whispered.
Joel scoffed. He left his hips against yours. He tutted. "I'm an old man, darlin', you're gonna have to speak up."
"Fuck me!" you all but screamed, desperation turning you into a mess.
Joel grabbed your hand and started to drag you from the alleyway, searching around as if his daughter might pop up out of nowhere.
You couldn't care less, didn't think about the group of friends you were leaving, or the guy that wanted you. Your hand circled over Joel's stomached t shirt, nails scratching as you leant into his side, lips marking up his neck.
"Fuck, baby," Joel groaned as he searched in his pocket for his keys. You joined the search, your fingers searching all around the dent in his jeans. "Fucking desperate, aren't you, huh?"
"Can't wait, Joel," you whisper in his ear, lips brushing, shivers running down his spine as you squeezed his crotch. "Please baby."
Joel grunted. He was practically shaking with the need to fuck you, to feel you against him. To have his hands wander all over you and memorise the way you moaned under him. There was so much more he wanted. Wanted to have you scream, wanted your neck bruised with his love and his back to carry the scratches from you.
He just needed.
"Fuck," he couldn't believe he was being so reckless. Couldn't believe that with a kiss and a grope you had rendered him a horny teenager. "Get in the back, babygirl."
He held open the door and practically pushed you in, climbing over you.
You jumped into his lap as soon as the door slammed shut and Joel chucked his keys somewhere to the front. Your lips worked against his, claiming it as yours and invading an unknown territory. You moaned as his tongue ran against yours and sucked it into his own mouth.
His hands were warm and large as they gripped your ass harshly, a soft slap echoing around his truck.
"You gonna let me slide my fingers into your pussy, baby?" he asked against your lips.
You moaned.
"Hey!" he grabbed your chin, pulling you back to stare at him. Your lips were already red and swollen. "You gotta talk to me baby. You want my fingers? Say yes."
"Yes please," you say, catching your breath. Your chest felt heavy, your pussy throbbing. "Please, want your fingers."
Joel smirked, finger tips brushing under the band of your skirt. "So polite."
The space at the back of his truck was small and cramped but he'd be lying if he hadn't thought about this. Hadn't thought about you in the back of his truck, cock stuffed down your throat or his face buried in your thighs.
All those times he'd taken you back, it had never been as innocent as he would let on.
But having you in his lap, begging for it, practically drooling with just his words, he had a feeling you weren't as innocent as you'd always made out to be.
Joel let the elastic of your skirt slap into place, causing you to jolt into him. As you jolted, he used the leverage of your hips to pull your skirt up and feel under you. "Jesus baby- you're soaked."
His finger slid up the cloth of your panties, collecting the dampness and smearing it.
You gasp as he presses into your pussy, pushing the cloth into you. "Joel please, I asked so nice."
"You did, sweet girl, you did," he nodded, watching as your eyes squeezed shut. "Hey- eyes on me baby, right here." He gently slapped the under part of your chin to get you to look at him as he easily hooked your panties to the side and sunk a finger in.
You hum out a moan, head tilted back.
Joel found the crevice of your neck, dragging his beard against the soft skin and relishing in the red that bloomed. "You like it? You like my fingers inside your heat? God, you're so warm."
"Like it," you nod, eyes shutting again.
Joel groaned low in his throat as he grabbed your chin and forced your forehead against his. "You keep your eyes on me, you understand me. Or i'll drop you off home. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Mr Miller."
"Oh-" Joel sunk his ring finger in until he was knuckle deep. "You're so good for me."
You tighten around the feel of his fingers. He's barely curling them and already you're squirming at the sound of your own slick.
"Ride my fingers, babygirl, gowan' now."
Obediently you started to move, riding his hand. His rough palm moved with you. His mouth remained open in a small 'o' as you wither against him, moaning.
Joel couldn't help the filth that spilled from his mouth. But with every clench you gave around his fingers, you didn't seem to mind.
"So good for me... such a good girl,"
"Dirty too, riding me in the back of the truck you and Sarah ride in."
"Fuck, i've dreamt of this, you look so good with my fingers stuffed inside of you."
At his encouragement you grip his shoulders, moving faster until your skirt is ridging up your hips and the little wisps of your hair are sticking to your forehead from sweat.
His thumb pressed down on your puffy and begging clit.
"Shit- ah- fuck!"
Joel's hips involuntarily bucked up to yours. "You wanna cum, sweet girl?"
You bite down on your lip, nodding and looking at where his forearm- taunt and veiny- disappeared under you.
Joel rested his head next to yours, kissing the sweat at your neck. "Tough baby, you're so dirty. Dirty girls have to do a lot of waiting till they get their reward."
Slowly, he retracts his fingers.
"Look at all this mess," he tutted, looking at how his fingers glistened with your need. He pats your hips, "up."
You fall onto the seat next to him, legs spread and head resting back on the car door.
You watch as Joel lifts his hips, un-buckling his belt as he starts to pull off his boxers and jeans. Your foot danced over to his lap but he impatiently pushes it away.
"You want to cum, don't you?" he asked, sending you a dark look. His hand grabs your ankle as you nod and kisses the bare skin above your heel. "Then behave."
The hand that you had just been riding wrapped around his cock and brought it out.
Your mouth opened as you stared at the beauty of the thing. He was big, bigger than you'd seen and bigger than you'd dare dreamed. He shone with pre-cum and your arousal as he spread what was on his fingers. His hand worked himself up and down as he relaxed back in his seat.
He looked over at you. "Eyes up here, baby."
Your gaze flicked up to him. "So pretty, Joel."
He chuckled and tugged himself. "Always knew you'd like it. God, you've no idea the things i've dreamt."
"Tell me. Please."
Joel leaned his head back, moving up and down his length slowly as he re-called every filthy dream his mind conjured. "Your hands wrapping around me. Your mouth being so warm and wet as you fuckin' choke on it. God, bet your throat's not used to a man's cock, huh? Only used to boys, ain't that right?"
He opened his eyes, peeking at you.
You'd dared closer to him, leaning over. You nodded.
"Bet that kid in there was hoping you'd give him a chance," he went on, his other hand coming up and thumb and forefinger tugging at your chin. "He didn't stand a chance as soon as you saw me, did he?"
You shake your head, shuffling closer into his side.
He jerked your head toward him. "Answer me."
"Only want you, Joel," you tell him.
You lick your lips, eyes darting from him to his leaking cock. The tip was red, begging for attention. "Can I- Can I please?"
Joel stroked back your hair. "Go on then, baby. Have a play." He stretched his arms along the back of the truck and watched to see you move.
But Joel quickly realised you didn't come around to play.
You'd always seemed so innocent- so un-knowing- when you looked after Sarah, when you helped him clean down the kitchen, when he'd offer you lifts back or to stay over you'd always blush and lower your head.
You were lowering it now, throwing your hair back over your shoulder and holding the base of him.
First, you touch him with your lips lightly and he smiles, daring not to think this might be the only time he lets you touch him like this. Your lips are so pretty and pink, swollen and wet from kissing him as you drag them along the sides.
Then you pepper kisses along the skin and start moving your hand around the base.
"You really gonna tease me?"
"Wanna take my time," you mumble into his though, kissing the skin.
Next, your hand cups his balls that were heavy with need. He wasn't exaggerating, it had been years since his last good fuck and no amount of jerking himself off to the thought of you could satisfy him. As your fingers played with his balls, rolling them around and giving them warmth and attention they craved, you made out with the tip of his cock.
You collected his pre-cum with your lips and tongue while still fondling him.
He could feel his shirt stick to him, his chest rising and falling quicker. Shittin-fuck. How was he supposed to last if this was what you were giving him?
"Easy, baby, easy," he eased you, stroking back your hair.
He knew you heard cause you were smirking then opening your mouth and taking him deep, almost all the way in one.
Joel groaned and grabbed the door. "Shit-ah-"
He didn't care if he wasn't far from the bar. Didn't care if anyone tried to get a look in through the fogging up windows. He didn't care if Tommy came by and applauded him for getting his dick wet. All he cared for was the feel of your wet mouth all the way down him, spit drooling down his cock.
You were doing so well and he wanted you to know.
"You wanna take me deep, huh?" he grunted, clutching onto your hair and holding you down. You gagged around him. He chuckled. "I'm not even all the way in there. You got room for more?"
You dragged your mouth up, taking a deep breath and nodding. You wiped your mouth from the mess you made and went in again.
This time, you took him again and again, deeper, bobbing him in your throat until he was a grunting and groaning mess. His hips moved of their own accord, shoving himself in even when there was nowhere else to go.
But the sounds of gagging, of his balls slapping against his own thighs as he moved, of the moans coming out of you were enough to almost having him finishing in your mouth. Almost.
He wanted to, boy did he, but he wouldn't, not until your cunt had swallowed him.
Joel pulled you up, letting you release him with a pop. "Want to be inside, need to be inside."
The truck wasn't the best place but it was the only place he had for you. He wished he could give you a bed, give your hours to welcome him, but Joel needed like he'd never needed. He imagined this is what starvation was, having your treat dangled in front of you.
And you were moving with him, lying down on the back seats, legs accommodating him as he slid in between you.
Joel gently pulled down your panties and stuffed them in the back of his pocket. If he was gonna have to jerk himself off to thoughts of you again, having your soaked panties was the least he deserved.
He glanced down at your swollen pussy and salivated.
Your hand trailed down, circling your clit as you moaned at the time he was taking.
Joel grabbed your wrist, bringing it up to his mouth and nipped at the skin. "Only I get to touch, yeah, babygirl?"
"Yes," you answered, breathless.
Joel loomed over you, bringing the tip of his leaking cock to smear himself over your folds. "Tommy told me somethin' real interestin'. Ask me what?"
"I don't- I don't care about Tommy, right now," you grab his shoulders, trying to pull him forward.
"He tol' me-" Joel strained, his lips brushing yours. It wasn't just your torture he wad delivering. It was his own. "He said people go to that bar to get fucked. Is that why you were there?"
For a moment you seemed shocked to hear it. Then the palm of your hand held his cheek, running over the stubble.
"Worked, didn't it?" you teased.
Joel sunk into you with ease. "Yeah."
He hid his face in your neck as you arched your back into him. 'Take it, take it,' he spoke into your skin, tattooing the words there.
"Joel-" you gasped, holding onto his back. "Fuck!"
"You're ok, baby. You're ok, babygirl," his breath was short. He needed to feel you more, the half way in wasn't enough. "Fuck, you grip me so well."
You gasp, holding him in you. "Need-need more."
"I dunno baby, you think you got it?" he teased.
"Yes, yes."
"What have I said about speaking up?"
You groan, throwing your head back on the seat. "Fuck me, please Joel!"
With a grunt loud enough to be heard outside, Joel sunk further into you. 'Shit, yeah.... fuck,' spilled from his lips as he slowly took himself out of you before sinking in all the way again.
"You feel me?" asked Joel. He held himself up over you because he'd be damned if he wasn't gonna watch you fall apart on his dick.
"Feel it, feel you everywhere," you mumble.
You really did. You felt the soft seats of his truck, smelt him everywhere. The smell of old cologne, cigarettes (though you were sure he didn't smoke) and new wood. It wasn't just his cock sinking into you but his voice as he mumbled filthy things in your ear. His hand dragged down your face, gripping your neck. Not tight enough to cut airways but tight enough to make you squeeze him.
He stuttered, "sh-shit. If you do that again I won't last," he told you. "And I want you to come first."
"Then fuck me Joel," you said, looking up at him.
Joel looked down to where he disappeared into you. You were already rocking your hips into his, desperate for something- anything. His hand pushed back some of your hair as he stared at you with something more than need. Desire. "Are you sure this is what you want?"
Wasn't it? Wasn't it everything you wanted since he first laid a hand on your shoulder and led you into his home, welcoming you to his life. "Yes."
His thumb dragged out your bottom lip before his lips were smashing onto yours, wet and sloppy as his thrusts increased.
He moved his hips in and out rapidly, giving you no more time to adjust. It wasn't long before he had to release your lips to breathe.
"Ah- shit!" you yelled.
"That's it baby, be as loud as you like. Let the whole fucking street know who's fucking you," he panted. His hands were at your neck, holding the both of you steady.
"Joel!"
"Shit! You feel so good!"
Joel tugged down your top, not in the mood to care if it rips. It's not like he was letting you back in that bar. He pulled out your tits and latched onto them like a child, nipping at the nipple.
Your hand winds itself in his hair, pulling at the roots and throwing your body into his. You could feel his cock stretch you, the pain mixing delightfully with the pleasure. With every thrust he tipped you closer and closer onto the ledge and as his warm, wet mouth sucked on your nipple, the other hand squeezing and playing with the other, you knew it would be the best orgasm of your life.
"I'm gonna, arg-"
Joel licked around your nipple. "Not yet."
"Joel!"
"Hold it!"
He pushed himself up, holding onto the back of the seats as he used the position to put a foot on the ground and fuck into you harder.
The windows were steamed, your bodies slick with sweat.
The truck was fucking shaking at how hard he was moving you.
You threw a hand out behind you to hold onto the door, bracing yourself as you rocked your body into his.
Joel threw his head back, his neck stretching you and tempting you. "Best fucking pussy out there. And I've been wasting you as a babysitter."
"Yours," you mumble. He hadn't even asked and you were giving him the promise.
His lips tilted into a lobsided smirk as he leaned closer to you. "You mine, huh? All mine? My girl, my pussy?"
"Yes," you nod.
For a minute you can only hear your breaths with the sound of his hips slapping into yours.
Joel's fingers dig into your thighs and bring your leg up to wrap around his waist. "Mine," he all but growled into your chest, nipping at the skin. "Show me. Show me you're mine. Cum."
He thrusted into you hard, his thumb holding your stomach down and playing with your clit until you were coming all over his cock. 'That's it baby... all over me.... there's a good girl.... keep coming,'
Joel fucked you throughout. He had his own finish to reach but watching you fall apart, your mouth open in a silent gasp as your fingers claw into his shoulders.
He cupped your chin, smiling down at you. "You gonna help an old man out?"
You were in no state to, coming down from your highest high.
Joel cupped your ass and lifted you from the seats that were slowly soaking in both of yours juices. "Ah-" he yelled out at the new angle he was reaching, his balls heavy hitting your pussy. "Yeah- there- just there baby."
"Joel!" you yell. "S'to much."
"No it's not," he shook his head. His eyes were screwed up as sweat rolled down his cheeks. "You can take it. You know you can."
Your pussy was throbbing, squeezing him so intensely you didn't know how he was still moving.
You bit down on your lip as you watched him concentrating hard. You test the waters, wrapping your legs around his waist until your entire lower body was in his weight.
"Fuck!" Joel's jaw clenched as he looked down at you, his fingertips digging into the skin of your soft thighs until he was sure bruises would be there for only him to see. "I'm gonna... shit- Where you want it?"
"Inside, please," you mewl.
Joel looked at you, danger in his eyes. "No, baby, we can't."
You nod and squeeze his hips. "I'm on the pill."
The words were heaven to his ears.
You squeeze around him and Joel yelled out, falling atop you as he spilled out inside of you.
"Take it! Take it! Fucking let me- let me in!" he yelled, hips stuttering as he fell into you. One of your legs remained around him but the other he let drop, holding it weakly.
You were sure you were still coming down from your high as his hips stuttered on yours. You could feel every drop of him smear on your pussy and leak out.
Then Joel's fingers danced around the space his cock was softening in you, pushing it all back in.
His brows rose as he looked down, a shaking laugh coming out. "I-"
You didn't want to hear the words that came after. The regret. The 'we shouldn't have' or 'think about Sarah'. You just wanted this moment of feeling held and cared for by Joel to last a little longer.
Your lips move against his slowly, tasting the salt of sweat from the both of you on there.
He didn't push you away, he just held his lips close to yours, in small and attentive brushes. "How do you feel?" he whispered, pulling back enough to look around your eyes.
"Good," you nod, "real fucking good."
Joel chuckled and looked down. Slowly, as not to hurt you, he pulled out.
You moaned at the sudden emptiness in you, lying there to catch your breath and so you didn't have to prepare for regret in his face.
But it seemed regret was the last thing on Joel's mind.
He had no idea what kind of animal was possessing him or just how far his need went. But when he fell back against the door, listening out to the low drum from the bar, he saw your swollen cunt. Red and white. Red from how hard he'd fucked you and white from the mixture of you and him.
Something growled inside of him- maybe it was him- but before either of you understood what was happening, Joel lunged back in and spread your thigs, diving in.
You lurched up onto your elbows, looking down at him. You could see the top of his hair, his eyes closed and you could feel his nose moving around you and nudging you. "Joel, what are you- holy-"
Joel hummed into your pussy. It was heaven on his tongue, dripping into him. So sweet and all you. He'd never felt closer to a person before. Never felt such a need. He was slobbering like a damn dog over your pussy.
"What the fuck have you done to me, huh," he'd pulled back only enough so you could understand his words.
Neither of you were sure if he was talking to you or what laid between your legs.
He opened up your pussy and went in, tongue fucking into you. He was caught between wanting to push his spill back into you and eating you out till you were dry.
"Joel!" you screamed, voice breaking. "You-you can't-"
"I fucking can," he snarled. His face was being pushed into your cunt as he shook it, smearing both of you all over him.
There was nothing you could say or do before your legs trembled and you came all over his beard and lips. You didn't know what to do, whether to push him off you or pull you closer.
Joel held your hips into his mouth and groaned as he took in everything you gave him.
Every flick of his tongue had you shaking. Every time he gripped your thighs you made a noise of pleasure.
Hours might have passed since he first discovered heaven between your thighs before he pulled himself out.
His face was wet with you. It was sinful and like nothing you could ever imagine. "Look at what you've fucking done to me."
description — you hitch hike to escape your small town, but the man that picks you up isn't the savior you initially see him as.
word count — 11,886
tags — dead dove do not eat!!! smut, noncon, age gap, drugging, perv joel obviously, body betrayal, throat-fking, creampie, forced breeding, what else is there to miss? oh, he spits in your mouth once. this is actually evil and entirely self-indulgent. read at your own risk. this is not meant to romanticize or promote the behavior written and is purely fantasy. THIS GETS SUPER DARK SUPER FAST, BEWARE !!!!
notes — this has been hiding away in my wips for almost a year, and I finally rushed out the ending. so yeah, kinda sucks near the end, but i was gooning writing it, so sue me.
You sighed sharply, letting your arm fall to your side for what felt like the hundredth time. The weight of the sun pressed heavily on your shoulders, the heat clinging to you like a second skin. A warm breeze teased strands of your damp hair from your face, a mercy against the uv rays. Tilting your head back, you gazed at the expanse of blue sky that had darkened in the hours you stood on the side of the road, your patience steadily unraveling like an old, worn thread.
How hard could it be to hitch a damn ride?
All you wanted was to escape the stifling monotony of this rundown, bumfuck-nowhere town. Where time seemed to crawl and every day bled into the next. There was nothing to do except drink cheap beer in collapsing barns with the people your age you could tolerate—which, frankly, wasn’t many. Your graduating class had barely scraped together two hundred students, and most of them were already neck-deep in their great-grandparents’ conservative, redneck ideologies, content to stay trapped in the same traditional, endless loop you were desperate to escape.
Entertainment options were laughably slim, unless you counted gossiping at the diner or staring at the peeling wallpaper of your living room. The highlight of the week was usually a herd of cattle escaping or a barn dance, where everyone pretended their lives weren’t as dull as dishwater.
It was no wonder that generations before had filled their houses to the brim with children. After all, raising a family gave them something to do, a purpose to cling to in the otherwise monotonous grind of small-town life. And maybe, just maybe, it helped fill the silence that crept in at night, the kind that even wolf songs couldn’t drown out.
It wasn’t all bad, you supposed. At night, the air hummed with the songs of frogs and crickets, a sound that felt almost sacred. The stars lit up the sky in a way that was impossible to see from the city, their light twinkling like scattered diamonds. Fireflies blinked alongside them, tiny, fleeting beacons in the dark. Those moments, rare and quiet, made this place almost bearable.
Almost.
But Christ on a cross, when the sun rose, it brought the same crushing realization: there was nothing for you here. Nothing except Sunday mornings at church, where people whispered behind hymnals and dissected the sins of their neighbors, the same people they'd smile brightly at as they prayed for blessings to come to them. At least they handed out free donuts. Small mercies, you thought bitterly, kicking at a loose pebble on the cracked asphalt beneath your feet.
You adjusted the straps of your backpack, the weight of it pressing uncomfortably against your spine. The highway stretched ahead in an unbroken line, a mirage shimmering in the distance, promising freedom just out of reach. All you needed was someone to pull over, just one car willing to take you somewhere—anywhere—that wasn’t here.
You even went so far as to wear the most revealing clothes you could find, not that your wardrobe had much to offer in that department. A perverted driver was still a driver, and at this point, you were desperate. You’d taken scissors to an old shirt, hacking it into a crop top that bared your midriff. The fabric was frayed and uneven, but it did the job. Your shorts were another matter entirely, uncomfortably tight and clearly too small, leftovers from when you were a kid. The waistband dug into your skin, and you had to keep tugging them down to avoid cutting off circulation.
God forbid any girl showed an ounce of skin in this town. The stares you got on your way out were enough to make you want to sprint out, but you were banking on that very same scrutiny to catch the attention of a passing car. Modesty might have been the golden rule here, but you weren’t above breaking it if it got you out of this dead-end stretch of nowhere.
You felt ridiculous, humiliated even, but the thought of staying here was far worse than enduring the leering eyes of some old man. You were used to that already. Men in this town had a way of looking at you like you were an object on a shelf they might pick up, inspect, and set back down when they were done. You’d learned to ignore it, to shrug off the uncomfortable heat of their stares and the muttered comments you pretended not to hear.
This was just more of the same, except now you were using it to your advantage. If showing a little skin meant one of those creeps would stop and offer you a ride out of this godforsaken town, then so be it. Dignity wasn’t exactly high on your list of priorities right now—freedom was.
If only one of these fuckers would actually stop. You’d been standing here long enough to feel the sunburn creeping across your shoulders, sweat pooling at the small of your back. You threw your arm out every time, trying to look as pitiful, or enticing, as possible, but all you got in return were waves of hot air as they sped by.
Was it just your town where men stared at women like predators? Or was that just how men were everywhere? You had no way of knowing. Your entire life had been spent here, in this suffocating bubble of prying eyes and wagging tongues. Sometimes you wondered if the rest of the world was different, or if the same lecherous glances and whispered judgments waited for you on the other side of this horizon.
Still, staying here wasn’t an option. Even if the grass wasn’t greener anywhere else, at least it would be different grass. And different was all you were asking for.
You were snapped out of your thoughts by the thunderous roar of an engine, deep and rumbling, shaking the stillness of the road. A semi. Your heart leapt, both with hope and a twinge of unease. You’d heard the stories, truck drivers were lonely old men who’d fuck anything with a heartbeat, and even that was a stretch. The thought made your stomach twist, but desperation outweighed caution.
Throwing your arm out again, thumb raised high, you focused on the massive vehicle barreling toward you. The sheer size of it was almost intimidating, the largest thing you’d seen on the road. Its grill gleamed in the sunlight like a steel beast, and you could already hear the hiss of brakes as it began to slow down.
This was it. Maybe luck was finally on your side—or maybe you were about to make the worst mistake of your life. Either way, it wasn’t like you had much to lose.
The semi groaned to a stop a few yards ahead of you, its engine idling. The driver’s side door creaked open, and out stepped a man, an old man, just as you’d expected.
His hair was almost completely gray, though uneven splotches of the lighter color dotted his scruffy beard like it couldn’t decide whether to age gracefully or not.
The glare of the sun bounced off the truck, making it hard to get a clear look at him, but you could tell enough. He was much larger than you, his frame broad and solid like he’d spent his life lifting things far heavier than the backpack you hauled. His hair had a slight curl to it, messy and unkempt, like he hadn’t seen a comb in days.
He tilted his head toward the passenger side, gesturing with his chin as he spoke. His voice was deep, slow, and unmistakably southern.
"Well, don’t just stand there, girl. You need a ride or what?"
There wasn’t much kindness in his tone, but there wasn’t any malice, either. Just a bluntness that matched the heat of the day. Your hesitation lingered for a moment before you nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat.
You all but scaled up the side of the truck, your legs shaky from a mix of exhaustion and the strain of hauling yourself up. The heat of the day clung to you, making every movement feel heavier than it should have. By the time you managed to get one foot inside, your muscles were screaming in protest.
The older man was already back in his seat, one wrist draped lazily over the steering wheel. He chewed on a wad of tobacco, the sound wet and unmannered as he watched you crawl in with a measured gaze. His eyes flickered up and down your figure, lingering just long enough to make your skin crawl. You swore you saw his hand shift subtly, adjusting himself as a low groan escaped your lips from the effort.
You settled into the passenger seat, the cracked leather sticking to your bare thighs. His stare lingered for a moment too long at the way they expanded before he finally spit into an old plastic bottle by his side.
“Where ya headin’, sweetheart?” he drawled, his lips curling into a half-smirk that didn’t reach his eyes.
Now that the sun was no longer blinding you, you could finally get a good look at him. To your surprise, he wasn’t all that bad-looking. In fact, he was quite handsome in a rugged, weathered sort of way. His deep chocolate-brown eyes had a sad look to them, like they had seen more than they cared to share. His nose was prominent, giving his face a bold, defined structure that worked with the lines etched into his skin. Those wrinkles, instead of detracting from his appearance like you'd expect them too, seemed to enhance his features.
Your eyes flicked to his hands resting on the wheel. They were large, rough-looking, the scarred, calloused kind of hands that did hard labor. An old, scratched watch clung to his wrist, the leather strap worn and glass cracked, but still functional.
Practical, like him, you figured.
Despite the circumstances, you found yourself momentarily distracted by his appearance.
“Well?” he asked again, the smirk on his face still lingering as he spit tobacco into his bottle. “Where ya headed?”
You hesitated, your fingers gripping the edge of the seat. “Anywhere but here,” you muttered, your voice low but firm.
He chuckled at that, a low rumble that seemed to reverberate through the cab. “Fair enough. Lucky for you, I ain’t goin’ anywhere near here for a good long while. Buckle up, sweetheart.”
You slid your backpack off your shoulders, letting it rest on your lap as your fingers found the charms hanging from the zippers. You twisted them absentmindedly, trying to occupy your mind and ignore the creeping weight of his gaze. The truck didn't move. Confused, you glanced at the gear shift, expecting to see his hand on it. Instead, his hand rested on his thigh, his fingers tapping lazily against his jeans.
Looking up, you caught him staring at you again, his dark eyes locked on yours for a moment before shifting downward. He sighed, tilting his head slightly like he was deciding what to do next. Without saying a word, he leaned toward you.
Your breath hitched as he closed the space between you, his face so close you could almost feel the faint stubble on his jaw and the silver strands in his hair. His arm brushed your shoulder as he reached for your seatbelt.
"Seatbelt's stuck," he muttered, though you hadn't even tried to buckle it yourself. His large hands gripped the strap and gave it a few tugs, his breath fanning across your cheek as he grunted, the plastic clicked before the webbing slid free and he pulled it across your chest.
The motion seemed smooth at first, but you stiffened when his knuckles grazed the curve of your breast. He didn't pause or acknowledge it. His gaze wasn't on the seatbelt or even his hands, it was fixed lower, right where the strap pressed against your chest. His eyes lingered there shamelessly.
He adjusted the strap, tugging it tighter against your chest, his fingers brushing over the swell more than once. The way he moved was deliberate, too slow to be casual, like he was testing how far he could push before you said something.
It didn't feel accidental, but it wasn't obvious enough for you to call him out on it, either. Your throat tightened, and you froze, unsure whether to flinch or let him finish.
“There,” he muttered, his voice low and rough, as he clicked the belt into place. For a moment, he didn’t move, his face lingering close enough for you to see the faint lines around his eyes and the uneven streaks of gray in his beard. Then, without a word, he leaned back into his seat with a grunt, as though the small task had been a chore.
His hand moved to the gear shift, and the truck rumbled forward, pulling onto the road with a jolt. “Can’t have you flyin’ out the windshield,” he said, his voice laced with dry humor.
You didn’t respond, your heart still racing from the unnecessary closeness. Staring out the window, you gripped the straps of your backpack tightly, trying to shake off the lingering feeling of his hands, unease prickling along your skin.
Joel glanced at the cracked dashboard clock, tapping it lightly with his knuckle as if that would somehow make the time change. "We’ll probably hit a truck stop in a few hours," he said, his voice breaking the long silence in the cab.
He finally broke the silence with a grunt and a glance at the dashboard. “’Bout two ‘til we hit the next one,” he said, shifting in his seat and rolling his neck like it ached. “Gonna pull in there, grab some food. Might get a room if the lot ain’t full.”
You didn’t look at him, just nodded a little, eyes fixed on the streak of pavement disappearing beneath the truck. “Okay.”
He glanced at you then, like he was waiting for more. When you didn’t say anything, he added, “They got showers too, y’know. Clean ones. Not five-star or nothin’, but they get the job done.”
“Cool,” you murmured, trying to sound neutral, like you weren’t clocking every word.
Then he smirked a little—just a flicker, barely there, but you caught it. “Don’t worry, you can have your own bed,” he said, voice low, tone meant to be reassuring but sitting wrong in your gut. “Unless, uh... you’d rather save a few bucks.”
You turned to look at him, your expression unreadable. “I’ve got cash,” you said, flatly.
“Didn’t mean nothin’ by it,” Joel said with a chuckle, eyes flicking to your chest again, not even subtle about it this time. “Just jokin’ around.”
You looked away, jaw tightening.
He scratched his beard, shifting in his seat again. “You’re real quiet,” he said after a moment. “Kinda figured a girl like you’d be more talkative.”
“A girl like me?” you asked, without looking at him.
“Yeah,” he drawled, his tone casual as his fingers drummed against the steering wheel. “C’mon you ain't exactly dressed for church, honey.” He turned to you with a grin.
You rolled your eyes before you forced yourself to focus on the landscape outside, the golden hues of the setting sun casting long shadows across the empty fields. But even as you tried to tune him out, you could feel his gaze darting toward you. It wasn’t constant, but it was enough to set your nerves on edge—quick, almost imperceptible glances at your legs, your chest, the curve of your neck.
Every time you caught him, he shifted slightly, like he hadn’t been looking at all. His fingers rubbed idly against his thigh, the movement subtle but deliberate.
“Don’t get too quiet on me now,” he said after a moment, his voice breaking the uneasy silence. “A guy can only handle so much quiet before he starts gettin’ lonely.”
You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye. “I’m just tired,” you muttered, hoping that would be enough to end the conversation.
“Tired, huh?” Joel’s smirk widened as he leaned back in his seat, one hand lazily adjusting his belt. “Bet you’ve had a long day, stickin’ that pretty thumb out on the highway. Lucky for you I came along. Not everyone out here’s as friendly as me.”
The way he said “friendly” made your stomach churn. You shifted in your seat, pretending to adjust your backpack as an excuse to look away. “Yeah,” you said flatly, unsure of what else to say.
He chuckled again, a deep, gravelly sound that filled the cab. “You know,” he started, his tone turning thoughtful, “truck stops ain’t so bad. Some of ’em even got little diners... Hell, if you’re lucky, you might even find a little entertainment.”
You glanced at him sharply, but he kept his eyes on the road, his expression unreadable. You gritted your teeth, damn religious upbringings, you forced yourself to be polite and dryly humor his conversation. “What kind of entertainment?”
Joel shrugged, his fingers still idly tapping his thigh. “Depends on the stop. Some got TVs, little gift shops... and sometimes, you meet interestin’ people. Y’know, folks passin’ through, lookin’ for a little... company.”
Your pulse quickened, and you swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “I’m not really looking for company,” you said quickly.
His grin widened, and he let out another low chuckle. “Didn’t think you were, sweetheart.”
You turned back to the window, your heart pounding as the shadows outside grew longer. The truck rumbled on, the uneasy tension between you thickening with every mile.
The truck’s turn signal clicked lazily, a rhythmic tick that cut through the hum of the engine as Joel guided the semi off the highway and into the glow of the truck stop.
The lights hit first, flickering fluorescents mounted on leaning poles, casting long shadows across the cracked pavement. The parking lot was littered with rigs and pickups, a few scattered sedans, and the occasional figure ducking in and out of the convenience store’s heavy glass doors. Beyond that, a rundown diner and a flickering neon sign that buzzed louder than it glowed. It wasn’t much, two diesel pumps, a few bent metal benches out front, and a crooked billboard advertising pie that probably hadn’t been served fresh since the Reagan administration, and behind it, the shape of a small roadside motel slumped under a sagging roofline.
Joel shifted the truck into park with a heavy hand and let out a grunt, stretching his arms above his head until his back cracked. His faded shirt lifted just enough to reveal a strip of his stomach, leathery and scarred. He caught you looking, not at that, exactly, just observing the place, but he smirked like you’d been staring.
“Not bad, huh?” he said, pulling the key out of the ignition. “Cozy little stopover.”
You looked out at the rows of trucks and diesel pumps, trying not to fidget. The stillness inside the cab after the engine died was sudden, as if the noise from the it had been cushioning something you didn’t want to feel.
You said nothing, unbuckling your seatbelt with a quick snap and reaching for your backpack, your fingers finding those familiar charms again. You rolled one between your thumb and forefinger, grounding yourself. The tension in your chest hadn’t left since you climbed into the truck. If anything, it’d only settled deeper.
Joel opened his door and climbed out with a grunt. “Food’s better than it looks,” he said over the roar of the diesel engine cooling off. “Diner’s got burgers, eggs, hash. All the heart-attack bullshit you could ever want.”
You followed after a beat, the door heavier than you expected. He waited for you at the base of the steps, one hand resting on the open door like he was holding it open for a date. You stepped down, trying not to flinch as his eyes moved with you, tracking every inch.
You stared past him at the diner, its windows fogged and glowing yellow under too-dim lights. A man smoked on a bench by the door. He looked tired. Everyone here did.
Joel jerked his chin toward the motel attached to the back of the lot. “Gonna check if they got any rooms left,” he said, spitting a wad of his chewing tobacco into the dirt. “You hungry, or what?”
“Yeah,” you said, your voice flatter than you intended. “Starving.”
He grinned at that, like it pleased him. “Go on then, I'll meet'cha.”
Inside, the diner smelled like grease and bleach, two things that didn’t mix well. The waitress behind the counter didn’t look up when you entered, too focused on a crossword puzzle. Joel slid into a booth a few minutes after you had, patting the cracked vinyl across from him.
The seat felt sticky. He leaned back, one arm stretched lazily across the backrest like he owned the place, the other already reaching for a menu he clearly didn’t need.
“Go ahead,” he said, nodding at you. “Order whatever. I’ll cover it.”
You eyed him, unsure if it was kindness or another invisible string. He caught your look and smirked.
“C’mon. Not tryna poison you. Just don’t like eatin’ alone.”
You nodded slowly, glancing down at the menu as he watched you over the top of his.
Joel leaned back in the booth, the vinyl seat creaking under his weight. One arm sprawled across the top, the other cradling his plastic cup of water. He let out a long sigh, an exaggerated exhale, like he was trying to be noticed.
“Been on the road five weeks straight,” he muttered, glancing out the window like he might spot someone he used to know. “Start talkin’ to myself if I don’t get some damn conversation.”
You looked up, cautious. He smiled, but it was thin. Forced.
“Life gets quiet when you get to my age. Too damn quiet, sometimes,” he said, fingers tapping idly against the side of his cup. “Wife gone. Kids don’t call. Truck’s about the only thing still wants me 'round.”
He chuckled softly, but there wasn’t much humor in it. More like he expected a certain reaction and didn’t care if it was genuine.
“That’s why I don’t mind pickin’ up company when I can,” he added, taking a sip and eyeing you over the rim. “Makes the road feel less... long.”
You didn’t respond, just nodded faintly. He didn’t seem to care—he’d already settled into his little performance.
“Not askin’ for much,” Joel went on, looking down at his calloused hands. “Just someone to talk to. Hearin’ a pretty voice now and again reminds me I’m still 'round, y’know?”
His eyes flicked to your mouth when he said it.
“Hell, you don’t even gotta talk if you don’t want, face's pretty 'nough on its own,” he added with a little grin, eyes crinkling like he was doing you a favor. “I’ll just ramble on till I lose my voice. You can pretend I ain’t even here.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Seems like you want someone to listen to you talk till your mouth hurts.”
That got a chuckle out of him. “Alright, fair,” he said, scratching at his beard. “I like a little attention. Guilty as charged.”
The waitress came over, tired eyes scanning the table. Joel ordered without looking at the menu—“bacon cheeseburger, extra pickles, fries, and a Coke,” before nodding at you to go ahead.
As you gave your order, you could feel his gaze on your face, lingering just a tad too long on your lips when you spoke. When the waitress walked off, Joel leaned back again with a grunt.
“Bet you think I’m some sad old bastard,” he said, smirking.
You tilted your head slightly. “You don’t seem all that sad.”
He laughed again, low and knowing. “Don’t gotta be sad to be lonely, darlin’.”
He said it so easily, like it was the kind of thing he’d said a hundred times before. Like it worked on someone, once.
There was something off about the way he spoke—too rehearsed, maybe. Like he’d said this all before. The “poor old man” routine. Alone on the road, no family, no one to talk to. It felt... thin.
Still, something about it tugged at you.
Maybe it was the way he sighed after every sentence, like he didn’t expect you to care. Maybe it was the worn in look behind his eyes.
You glanced down at your lap, your fingers twisting the zipper of your backpack until it bit into your skin.
You knew better. You really did. People didn’t get like this for no reason. Men didn’t hand out kindness for free. But even as your gut whispered caution, another part of you, smaller, quieter, felt bad for him.
He wasn’t pushing anything. Not yet. And you were tired. Not just from standing on the side of the road, but from months of going nowhere, of waiting for someone, anyone, to see you.
Joel caught your eye again, that half-smile still tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Didn’t mean to lay it on thick,” he said, almost sheepish now. “Guess I don’t talk to people much these days. Gettin' rusty.”
You tried to smile, but it came out just as performative as his. “It’s fine. I get it.”
He tapped a finger against his glass, his tone softening. “You runnin’ from somethin’?” he asked, not accusing, just curious.
You hesitated. “Not really. Just… done with where I came from.”
Joel nodded like he understood. Maybe he did. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with wantin’ out. Some places don’t give you much reason to stay.”
His voice was quieter now, less performative. For a second, it felt more real. Or maybe you just wanted it to.
You studied him for a beat longer—his hands, his eyes, the worn creases in his skin. You could still feel the phantom touch of his fingers pulling your seatbelt earlier, still see the way his gaze had lingered a second too long.
But right now, he looked tired. Lonely. And something in you, despite everything, softened just a little.
“I appreciate the ride,” you said quietly. “Really.”
Joel looked at you for a second, then nodded once and leaned back again. “Ain’t no trouble,” he said. “Like I said, road gets real damn quiet.”
You both fell into silence after that, the kind that wasn’t entirely comfortable.
He’d tried to make small talk over greasy plates and chipped mugs of diner coffee—asked about your favorite music, your family, whether you had a boyfriend “waitin’ around somewhere.” He framed it as harmless banter, chuckling over his fries, talking with his mouth half full like it wasn’t meant to mean anything.
You mostly nodded, gave short answers. Your appetite had all but vanished the longer his eyes lingered on you.
They didn’t wander constantly, Joel wasn’t that obvious. But every so often, as you cut into your food or brushed hair out of your face, you’d catch him watching you instead of eating. His gaze would always drop quickly, back to his plate or the tabletop, but the silence between those glances felt thicker each time.
You told yourself it was nothing. You told yourself you were tired, overthinking.
But by the time he paid the bill and motioned for you to follow him outside, your stomach had twisted into something tight and uneasy.
The air had cooled a little with the setting sun. Crickets had started their nightly hum, and the truck lot buzzed quietly with the sound of engines cooling and the occasional burst of laughter from inside the diner. But your ears were filled with the sound of your own footsteps following Joel’s.
He led you past the edge of the lot, toward a squat, single-story row of motel rooms behind the diner. Faded numbers were bolted onto each door, and the porch lights above them flickered weakly, as if unsure whether to bother staying lit.
Joel stopped in front of one, jingling a key in his hand. “Only had one left,” he said, turning the knob. “Told the guy it’s just for a few hours’ shut-eye. Not like I’m settlin’ in.”
Your heart skipped. Just one?
The room door creaked open. Joel stepped inside first, tossing the key on the nightstand and flipping on the light. A yellow glow filled the room, bouncing off stained wallpaper and a twin bed with a faded comforter. The A/C unit in the window rattled weakly.
The moment you stepped into the room, something felt different.
Not in the air itself, the motel room still smelled like bleach and dust, but Joel’s presence had changed.
He didn’t say much after unlocking the door. Just let it swing open, stepped inside like he owned the place, and gave the room a lazy once-over. Gone was the exaggerated sighing, the talk of loneliness, the half-hearted chuckles meant to make you feel bad for him. Now he moved slower, more comfortably, like someone who’d settled into something.
You weren’t sure what.
He let the door close behind you with a click that made your pulse hitch. He didn’t bolt it, he didn’t need to. The message was already clear.
Joel walked over to the table near the bed and dropped the room key with a soft clink. His hand hovered for a second, then he sat in the chair near the window, stretching out with a tired grunt. One arm slung over the backrest like he was getting ready to stay awhile.
“Not bad,” he muttered, adjusting the waistband of his jeans before running a hand through his graying hair. “Could be worse.”
You didn’t answer. You were still standing near the door, backpack hugged to your chest like a shield.
Joel’s eyes flicked up to you. Slower now. Less polite. Like he didn’t feel the need to pretend anymore.
"You can sit, y’know,” he said. “Ain’t gonna bite.”
He grinned at his own joke, but it didn’t reach his eyes. They were darker now. Not cold, just… sure. Like whatever this was, it was already decided in his head.
You moved slowly, choosing the edge of the bed farthest from him—you wished the separate beds calmed your nerves, they didn't. The springs creaked as you sat, and the sound felt too loud. You kept your backpack in your lap, your hands gripping the strap.
Joel let his gaze linger for a moment longer, then leaned his head back and looked up at the ceiling. “Y’know, most folks would be grateful by now,” he said idly, like he was commenting on the weather. “Free ride, free food, place to rest. Ain’t a bad deal.”
Your spine stiffened slightly. There was no edge in his voice, no threat. But there was something underneath it. Something that made your stomach coil.
“I am grateful,” you said carefully.
“Mm.” He didn’t sound entirely convinced. “You’re just real quiet is all. Hard to read.”
You didn’t reply.
Joel scratched at his jaw. “Guess it’s just been a while since I had company.” He looked at you again, head tilted, lips just barely curved. “It’s nice. Real nice. You're nice.”
You felt your shoulders tense. He wasn’t doing anything, not really, but you could feel it building. The shift. The subtle way he took up more space now, like just getting you through that door had changed everything.
Joel stood up, stretching again with a low groan, and walked toward the mini fridge. He bent to open it, empty, but lingered there a second longer than needed. When he straightened, he looked at you again. Still that same expression. Casual. Relaxed. Like this was just the natural next step in whatever he thought was happening here.
“I’m gonna go grab us some drinks,” he said, voice lighter now, maybe even cheerful. “You want soda, water, somethin’ stronger?”
You blinked. “Coke’s fine.”
He nodded, already halfway to the door. He paused, hand on the knob, then turned back.
“You lock that behind me if it makes you feel better,” he said, his voice quiet. “But I’ll be back in five. Don’t go disappearin’ on me.”
He winked. Not playful. Not mean. Just… like a joke he thought you were in on, even if you didn’t know the punchline yet.
Then the door clicked shut behind him, and you were alone.
The silence returned.
You sat still, backpack clutched to your chest, heart pounding a little faster than before. You weren’t sure what Joel thought this was. But for the first time, you were sure of one thing:
He thought he was owed something.
You weren’t sure why you stayed.
Maybe it was pride. Maybe it was the weight of your backpack digging into your spine for hours that made you too tired to run again. Maybe it was something worse, something harder to admit. That small, scared voice that told you: This is what you asked for, isn’t it? A ride. A room. A way out.
You told yourself it was fine.
But when Joel came back a few agonizing minutes later, holding a single room-temperature soda like it was some kind of gift, that thin illusion started to crack.
"Vending machine’s shot to hell," he said, tossing it onto the end of the bed like he expected you to jump at it. “Still good, though. S'just warm.”
You nodded, reaching to take a grab the bottle. You tried not to acknowledge the way your heart sped up as you leaned closer to him, your hand shaking.
Joel didn’t seem to notice, or didn’t care. He kicked off his boots, grunted as he lowered himself into the creaking chair near the TV, and grabbed the remote from the armrest.
The television flashed on, its speakers crackling as static fizzled into some old cable rerun. The volume was too loud for the tiny room, but Joel didn’t adjust it. He just leaned back and settled in, letting the laugh track fill the silence like white noise drowning out your thoughts.
You nerves were so shot, you hadn’t noticed the bottle hadn't hissed when you twisted the cap.
When your leg started to shake it was just a tremor at first, barely noticeable. But it spread, up your thigh, into your stomach, into your chest. Your heart fluttered under your ribs, fluttered wrong. Your throat was too dry. The lights were too yellow. The TV too loud. His breathing, even and steady from across the room, was the only rhythm that didn't match your panic.
You stood quickly, too quickly.
“Bathroom,” you muttered, grabbing your bag without really knowing why. Just needing it close.
Joel gave a vague nod, his eyes barely lifting from the screen. “Take your time.”
The bathroom was even smaller than you expected. Dim light. Cracked tile. A fan in the ceiling that buzzed faintly behind the walls. You closed the door and leaned against it, gripping the edge of the sink with both hands.
Your reflection stared back at you, paler than before. Eyes wide. Lips dry.
You didn’t even notice you were crying until the first drop hit the sink.
You weren’t scared, not exactly. But something inside you was twisting tight, something old and instinctive that didn’t care about politeness or gratitude or second chances. Something that whispered, Leave. Now.
You splashed water on your face. Once. Twice. The cold shocked your nerves, grounding you just a little, enough to breathe. But your hand trembled as you reached for the towel, and you had to brace yourself before you looked in the mirror again.
You stared at your own eyes for a long time.
You could still leave. You hadn’t unpacked. Your legs worked fine. The door wasn’t locked.
But outside that door, Joel waited. Not a stranger anymore. Not really. And that was somehow worse.
You dried your face, turned off the faucet, and in front the door of the bathroom for a beat, staring at the crack under it, the yellow-lit room shared the space of flickering blue light from the TV.
“You alright in there, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice warm again, sounding gentle despite how he'd had to hollar over the TV.
You took a breath. Then another. You told yourself you were overreacting.
People were weird, sure. Joel was… weird. But maybe that’s all it was. Maybe your nerves were shot from being on the road, from standing in the sun for hours, from not eating enough. You were tired. That made everything feel worse.
One night. Get some rest. Ditch him in the morning.
That was the plan. Simple. Safe.
You pushed open the door and stepped out into the dim light of the room again, trying to slide your expression back into something neutral. Something nice.
You gave him a polite, too-sweet smile in return, it was automatic, from that church-girl buried deep in your gut. You didn't owe him anything, but you still felt like you had to at least perform gratitude. Like that was part of the deal.
It was tight-lipped, polite, instinctual. The same smile you’d been trained to give since you were a kid, the smile that didnt reach your eyes, that said I’m fine, thank you, don’t worry about me.
He smiled back.
Not kindly. Not broadly. Just this thin, smug little thing tugging at the corner of his mouth.
He tried to play it off like nothing. Reached for the remote. Adjusted his posture. But it didn’t go unnoticed, not by you. Joel looked over at you from the chair, his arms resting behind his head now, relaxed.
You crossed the room, easing yourself onto the top of the bed. The blanket was old and dusty and reeked of stale detergent. Still, it beat the side of the highway. You opened the Coke and took a sip. Flat. Warm. Still, it gave your hands something to do.
On the TV, that same crusty sitcom was still going. Joel had turned the volume up since you'd gone. The laugh track punched through the tiny speakers like a drill to the temple. The jokes came rapid-fire—loud, overacted, dated.
You weren’t really listening until one of the characters—a middle-aged man with a gut and a mustache—joked about slipping a woman something to make her “act with less prudence.” The studio audience howled. His female co-star gave him a fake slap on the shoulder with an annoyed glare. The scene moved on.
You didn’t laugh. You didn’t even smile.
Joel did.
Not loud. Just a low huff of a chuckle, amused. Right in time with the laugh track. Like it had hit a nerve in him. The wrong nerve.
You stiffened. Your spine straightened just a little more. You didn’t look at him.
It was the type of joke that made men laugh in bars when they’d already had too much and weren’t watching their tone anymore.
Joel’s laughter stopped as quickly as it came. But when you risked a glance, you saw it, that same smug curl at the edge of his mouth, his tongue poking briefly at the inside of his cheek like he was chewing on something he wasn’t going to say out loud.
You looked away.
It’s the show, you told yourself. It’s the show. He’s just laughing because it’s on.
But the hairs on your arms were standing up anyway.
You shifted around on the stiff mattress for what must’ve been the better part of an hour. The bed creaked with every movement, the scratchy comforter brushing against your skin like old sandpaper. You kept changing positions—legs folded under you, then stretched out, then pulled back in. Nothing felt comfortable. Nothing felt settled.
You kept reaching for the bottle of Coke on the side table, fingers brushing it absentmindedly before pulling back. The ritual repeated over and over until finally, you just brought it into your lap. The half-full bottle had lost what little fizz it had, but you held onto it anyway. The weight of it in your hands was something solid, something to focus on. It gave your fingers something to do besides twist the hem of your shirt or pick at your skin.
Joel hadn’t said much. The flicker of the TV lit up his face in little bursts. Every so often, he’d glance over at you. Not long enough to say anything. Just enough to make your body flare up with heat as your blood rushed.
You tried to focus on the show, but your brain had gone fuzzy. Not foggy, exactly, but distant. Like your thoughts were moving through syrup. Your limbs felt a little heavy, your eyes dry.
The Coke sat in your lap like a small weight. When you went to take another sip, you hesitated, your hand lifting slower than you expected. The bottle felt heavier than before. Not by much. Just enough for you to notice.
You frowned a little, blinked once, then twice. Maybe it was exhaustion. Your nerves had been running hot all day, your body could just be crashing. That had to be it.
Still… something felt off. You gripped the bottle a little tighter.
Your head rolled slightly on your shoulders as you tried to blink the haze away. You gave a small shake, like maybe you could rattle the exhaustion out of your skull, but it clung to you—draped heavy over your limbs like a damp blanket.
You weren’t that tired.
At least, you hadn’t been.
You blinked again. The TV was still flickering, the show’s punchlines rolling out like clockwork. Joel chuckled along with the laugh track, low and content. Like nothing was wrong. Like everything was exactly the way he wanted it.
You didn’t look at him. You just focused on the bottle in your hands.
It wasn’t spinning, but it felt like it could be. Your fingers curled a little tighter around it as if that might tether you to the present. You told yourself again that you hadn’t eaten properly. That this was just your body protesting the long day. That the motel room was warm, and Joel’s TV was loud, and your senses were frayed.
But still… your skin was buzzing. Not panic, just static. An edge.
You reached for your phone without thinking, fingertips fumbling slightly with the zipper of your bag. You didn’t even know who you’d text if you needed help, but the need to do something was rising in your chest, your instincts growing louder, like background noise you could no longer ignore.
“Feelin’ alright, sweetheart?” Joel asked suddenly, not looking at you.
You jumped slightly at his voice, your fingers freezing over your backpack. You glanced at him.
His eyes were still on the screen, but his smirk was back. Not wide, not obvious, just there. Subtle, like he was hiding something behind it and didn’t care enough to try hard.
“I’m fine,” you said automatically, your voice quieter than you meant it to be.
Joel made a little humming sound, like he didn’t quite believe you, but he didn’t press. Just leaned back further in his chair, exhaling like a man pleased with how the day turned out.
You turned your eyes to the bathroom door again.
It wasn’t far. You could go in, close the door, lock it. Just for a minute. Just to breathe.
You planted your hands on the edge of the bed and pushed yourself up. Your legs didn’t respond the way you expected.
For a split second, it felt like they weren’t even attached. Your knees nearly gave out as you stood, a sharp, disconnected jolt rushing through your lower body like the numbness you get from sitting too long in one position, but worse. There was no familiar prickle of circulation returning, no tingling promise of sensation coming back. Just absence.
And something about that absence made your chest tighten.
You reached out, grabbing the wall for balance. The Coke bottle in your hand slipped from your fingers.
Behind you, Joel’s chuckle drifted lazily through the static of the television. Not loud. Just enough to make the air feel thinner.
“You alright there?” he drawled, voice a little too casual. A little too slow.
You didn’t look at him. “Yeah. Just, stiff legs.”
Your voice sounded strange even to your own ears, it was muted, distant. You could feel his eyes on your back now, tracking your movement more attentively than before.
You didn’t turn.
Didn’t say anything else.
You pressed your hands against the rough motel wall, the chipped paint cool against your skin. Your legs felt weak beneath you, shaking softly, and you couldn’t seem to make them move.
Your breath came fast and shallow, chest tightening with each inhale. The vintage chair creaked faintly nearby, a reminder that Joel was still in the room, still watching.
You didn’t look over.
Your eyes darted to the flickering TV, its pale light casting long shadows on the cracked wallpaper. It buzzed softly, filling the silence with pointless noise.
Maybe not so pointless.
You could hear him settle out of his chair, the scrape of fabric on denim. Joel’s footsteps shuffled behind you, slow and deliberate.
“Everything alright, sweetheart?” His voice was low, smooth, and far too casual. Almost mocking. It didn't sound like a question.
You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.
Instead, you pressed your palm harder against the wall, willing the tremors in your legs to stop. But the more you willed it, the worse it felt, like your body was betraying you, leaving you trapped between fight or flight, but doing neither.
You swallowed the lump rising in your throat, biting your lip to keep from shaking or crying. Your heart hammered so loud you were sure he could hear it.
You wanted to run. To scream. To disappear.
But you stayed still.
You didn’t realize he was approaching again until the floor creaked just to your left. A soft sound, but close. Too close.
“Hey, c’mon now,” Joel said, voice gentle in a way that made your stomach twist. “You don’t look too good. Maybe you should lie back down.”
His hand reached out, palm warm and rough as it hovered near your arm. Not yet. The faux tenderness in his tone didn’t sit right with the look in his eyes. They were too alert, too interested.
“I’m fine,” you said quickly, though your voice was hoarse and small. You hated how it sounded.
“You sure? ‘Cause you’re swayin’ a little.” His hand landed on your arm this time, solid and steady. But he didn’t grip.
That should have made it better. It didn’t.
It was the stillness in his hand that made your skin crawl, how his thumb pressed, then circled slowly, like he was mapping out your pulse.
“C’mon,” he said again, guiding you gently, not forcing, but not offering space to resist. “Just for a minute. You’ll feel better when ya do.”
When... not if.
You let yourself be led. Partly because your legs still felt unsteady. Partly because you didn’t know what would happen if you pulled away.
He walked you the few steps to the bed, hand never leaving your arm, and helped you sit. His other hand reached for your shoulder, too familiar now, the way it rested there a beat too long.
You flinched.
Joel paused, then gave a soft chuckle under his breath. “Easy now. Ain’t tryin’ to scare you."
But when he leaned in to adjust the pillow behind you, his knuckles dragged against your collarbone. His other hand hovered lower on your side, not quite touching your hip—but close enough that the heat of it made you recoil inside.
“You’re all tense,” he murmured, gaze slipping down your frame like a slow leak. “Just breathe, alright? You’re safe.”
The worst part was how convincing his voice sounded.
But you knew better.
Your body knew better.
You sank down against the bed with a strange sort of heaviness, like your own limbs no longer belonged to you. The mattress dipped beneath your weight, a dry, musty scent rising up from the sheets.
You tried to sit upright, to keep your spine straight, but your body leaned without permission, your muscles slackened under the weight of your own breath.
Joel didn’t go back to the chair.
You heard the soft groan of the mattress again, felt the subtle shift beside you before your eyes caught up. He sat on the edge of the bed now. Right next to you.
Not touching, but close.
You turned your head toward him slowly, eyes trying to focus. Your brain felt like it was wrapped in cotton, every thought dragging through molasses.
“Why…” you started, but the rest of the sentence didn’t come.
Your tongue felt thick. Heavy. Wrong.
He smiled, small, faint. You might've miss it if you weren’t looking. But you were looking. Because watching him felt like the only thing tethering you now.
“You okay, sugar?” he asked again, quieter this time. Closer. He didn’t sound worried. Not really.
You tried to speak, but your words came out slurred, barely above a whisper. “M’fine…”
It took all your strength just to swallow the lump in your throat, even that felt like work. You could feel your pulse behind your eyes now, slow and sluggish.
Joel didn’t move away.
His arm rested across his lap, hand curled on his thigh. The same hand that had guided you here. The same hand that lingered too long.
His eyes weren’t on your face anymore.
You saw that.
You felt that.
Still, you couldn’t quite pull your body back. Couldn’t seem to make your limbs respond.
You were here. And so was he.
And something deep in your gut told you the space between you wouldn’t stay empty much longer.
Joel's calloused hands reached toward the strap of your bra that had peaked out from your shirt. He lifted it in his fingers almost carefully, letting it lead up to the top of your bra. Your mumbled incoherently at his touch. He shushed you softly.
He didn't speak anymore, he didnt need too. He brought his fingers back up to your collarbone before laying his palm across it, the strap caught between his fingers as he pushed it down your shoulder. His body leaned forward to press his lips to your collarbone. His beard was scruffy and sharp against your soft skin, like needles.
His lips were dry and cracked, the wetness from his saliva being the only softness. He pecked at the bone a few times before his mouth wrapped around it, sucking.
Your hands weakly moved to his shoulders, but his hands patiently wrapped around your wrists, pushing them to sit by your head. The bed dented down. Your writhed weakly. He continued sucking and nipping at the spot till a dark mark appeared.
The knot in your stomach churned as he licked over where he bit to soothe your skin, his beard felt like a hundred tiny needles digging into you. Red appeared around the purple. His thumbs pressed into your wrists, feeling your pulse as you whimpered. His mouth lifted for a moment, his breath hot on your irritated skin.
"Your hearts finally slowin' down sweetheart, ain't losin' ya am I?" He huffed with a humor only he had. His mouth wrapped around the mark again, his tounge tracing your collarbone as he hummed.
He hadn’t lied, your heart finally slowed, but the panic stayed lodged in your chest. Each beat hammered against your ribs, like it was trying to tear its way out and leave you behind. The thump in your chest spread your blood throughout your body, heat rising on your skin.
His hands weren’t tight on your wrists, his thumbs traced slow circles on your pulsepoints before sliding into your palms. His mouth kept defacing your shoulder. There was no violence in it, if anything, he almost seemed to be comforting you.
You couldn’t decide if that made it better, or worse, or if it changed anything at all.
Your knees dragged upward in another weak attempt to slip free, but your bones felt like wet cement, heavy and useless. You turned your head away with a thin whine, your body mustering what little control it had to spill tears that slid into your ears. Your chest heaved as you writhed.
Joel shushed you without cruelty, his hum low and pitying, the vibration running from his throat into your collarbone. His mouth scattered pecks over the marks fresh on your neck and shoulders before he propped himself on an elbow, still looming above you. One calloused hand smeared the tears across your right cheek while his lips caught the ones on the left—and you swore his tongue slipped out to taste the salt straight from your skin.
“Don’t cry, sugarpie… I ain’t gonna hurt you, promise. Didn’t mean to upset you none. I just get real lonely out on the road, is all.”
He looked and sounded so genuine, like he truly believed every word he spoke. His lips brushed your ear when he talked, his voice almost swallowed by the blare of the TV—and now you understood why it was so loud. Not that it mattered. The only sounds you could make were thin, mousey whines, easy to mistake for the creaks of the old bedframe or an actual mouse.
Your lips trembled as you turned your face from his hands, eyelids pressed tight. The only refuge you had was to pretend, if only for a moment, that none of this was real.
“Hey now… look at me. Let me see those pretty eyes, baby.” His voice stayed soft, but there was an edge of annoyance beneath it.
When you didn’t obey, his hand closed around your face, squeezing your cheeks until your lips puckered. He tilted your head toward him, but your eyes stayed shut. He clicked his tongue, then used his other hand to peel one eyelid open. Your iris was barely a ring around your blown pupil, whatever he’d given you was already winding through your blood, sinking heavy into your bones.
He smiled softly. “There she is…” he whispered, letting your eyelid flutter shut as his hand slipped into your hair, fingers combing slow like he meant to soothe. “Pretty, pretty girl.”
His lips met your forced pout in a mockery of a kiss, his tongue brushing gently against them, coaxing for a response you never gave. When you didn't reciprocate, he nipped at your lips gently.
He pulled back just enough to watch your face, your eyes still screwed shut, leaving you with nothing but the ghost of his touch. His hand hovered at your shoulder, and he grinned at the weak tremors rippling through your body. Slowly, he let his fingertips trail down to your hip, slipping beneath the hem of your shorts to trace the waistband, his blunt nail dragging a cruel line across your pelvis.
"It's okay, hun." He whispered as he slipped another finger into the waistband.
You felt his hand turn in your shorts, the pads of his fingers now touching you. You tensed but made no move to resist, not that you could. His hand slowly, painstakingly, moved deeper into your shorts. You quietly cried as his middle and pointer finger dragged across your clothed clit before it was quickly replaced by his palm, fingers down to your slit. Your heard a gravelly groan reach out of his throat.
"Fuck sweetie, you're soaking through your panties." He chuckled near the end of his words before exhaling heavily.
Your eyes wanted to shoot open, but only managed to lift with a furrowed brow. His eyes met yours, his bottom lip between his stained teeth. Confusion was painted on your features.
"Yeah baby, you're panties are fucking ruined." He huffed, his palm pressing onto your swollen clit.
A humiliating gasp was ripped from you as more tears fell from your eyes. No, no no no...
"Mhm, shit baby, see? Your body knows I'm not hurting ya, what was all that fuss about?"
The pads of his fingers brushed over your clothes slit, the wetness became more obvious as you heard a sickening squelch when he pressed them into your sopping hole over your panties.
"Ah... Joel.." you cried, your voice never felt smaller.
His hot breath fanned your face with a pant, "Yeah, baby, say my name."
You shook your head weakly, your eyes traveling down to where his hand disappeared into your shorts. You remembered you had hands as you tried to push his hand away. In your haze, you accidently pushed him closer, letting his palm rub harder into your clit.
You wanted to puke when your felt a shot of pleasure crack through you, you wanted to die when you felt your hips roll into his hand. Your voice cracked with a wordless 'No'.
Joel beamed, "You got such a needy pussy, baby... look at her, she wants so bad. She knows whats best for you... she just wanna feel good."
You grit your teeth as your hips rolled again, his hand meeting it with a circle of his own. Your nails dug into his forearm, but they barely made an indent. You felt his leg cross over yours as he hummed your thigh. His cock was hard in his jeans, the bulge large and visable despite your brain fog and the dark room.
His hand left your shorts for a moment, and you felt a wave of relief before you felt them fall straight to the button on them.
He unbuttoned them with one hand as he groaned, lifting himself to his knees. He grabbed at the waistband at both your hip bones and tore them down. You tried to cross your legs but one of his hands met your thigh and shoved it to the side, just long enough to get your shorts off.
He brought both hands to the back of your knees, dragging you down for his thighs to meet the back of yours. He spread you open and stared down like he was holding his fridge open, deciding what he wanted to feast on. He barely felt the tug of you trying to close them. In a last ditch effort you moved your hands to cover your crotch, and that's when you felt it.
You were completely soaked through, the wet spot making your white panties transparent. It was like something inside you broke at that moment. Your body had decided to completely betray you.
As if he noticed you resolve falter, he brought his hands to the side of your panties and ripped. One side, then the other. Throwing them across the room to land somewhere on the carpet. You bit into your hands as you stopped pulling away. Eyes distant but open, he would take it.
His hands lifted your shirt over your bra before he shoved that up too. It squeezed over the top of your breasts almost painfully.
"God bless you, baby... perfect fucking pussy," his hand slapped it as he leaned forward, "and perfect fucking tits."
His mouth wrapped around your nipple, tounge circling it wildly as he sucked the nub between his teeth. Your body reacted how it wanted, and you could only whimper and whine pathetically. He rested above you on one forearm while his other hand met your leaking slit again. His thick middle finger dragged up and down it, your wetness coating the pad. He brought it to you clit, circling slowly before he flicked it.
He moaned around you nipple when you jumped with a cry. The more your body reacted the more he seemed to lose it. He switched to the other nipple, "Gotta give her some lovin' too." He chuckled.
The actions repeated for a few minutes you think, your perception of time got foggy with each circle, flick, and switch.
The vibration from his groans tickled your breast, making your back arch further into his mouth. He was almost fucking drooling, copious amounts of spit shined your chest like you'd been rubbed down in oil.
He abruptly moved down, his hand leaving to grip your hips, holding them down as he settled between your legs. He licked a long stripe across your slit, shaking his head side to side as the muscle circled your clit before he sunk it into your organ. His hands moved to your chest as he tounge fucked you, fast and unrelenting. He only lifted from you to spit on you pussy before he flattened his tounge across your entire slit and diving back in.
Every groan and moan from his vibrated against your clit and the inside of you. You felt breathless and violated. And when a knot formed in your stomach that you couldn't decipher at first due to the sinking dread that had settled there, it was too late.
With a broken cry, you threw your head back as your legs shook around his head. His voice raised over the tv for a moment with how loud he growled against your pussy.
He detached from you before appearing in front of your eyes and shoving his hot tounge down your throat. You grimaced as you tasted yourself, your pussy still throbbing from your orgasm.
"Sweet as cherry pie, baby." He mumbled against your mouth. His tounge dragged along the inside of your mouth, just another hole to him. Along the ridges of the roof of your mouth to the back of your teeth.
He sucked on your tounge harshly before unlatching, raising back on his knees again with a hushed 'Fuck...' undoing his belt. The clink of metal echoed, as he stood. He didn't bother taking his jeans off, just shoved them down enough to release his raging cock.
He walked to the side of the bed, grabbing your arm and dragging you closer. His dick hung heavy as it twitched, face level with you. You closed your mouth tightly and turned your head, only to met with a gentle but forceful tap from the back of his hand. The same hand grabbed your jaw as he leaned down to meet your eyes.
"I'm only gonna say this once, you don't fucking bite. I don't wanna hurt you, sugar, but you bite my fucking dick and I'll knock your teeth out." He said it sternly with raised brows.
You only looked at him fearfully before he spoke again, "Do you understand?" You nodded.
He loosened his grip and brought his thumbs to the sides of your mouth, forcing it open. "Relax your throat, sweetheart. Be good for me, m'kay?"
What else could you do other then what you were told?
The tip leaked as he dragged it across your lips before he got an idea, backing up and manhandling you to lay with your head upside down on the edge. He returned to your lips, a couple heavy slaps of his cock landed on your cheek before he told you to stick your tounge out, and he slid into your warm waiting mouth.
He groaned as he moved till his balls touched your nose, stilling there for a moment as you suffocated. You whimpered around him as you brought your hands up, "Breath through your nose, sweetheart." He instructed.
He pulled out leaving just the tip in your mouth before he slowly bottomed out again. He didnt waste time changing the pace, his hips thrusted steadily. Drool dripped from your mouth as he fucked it, his heavy, twitching balls smacking your nose each time. He brought his hands to take your wrists, settling them on your stomach as he leaned forward so he could thrust harder. He panted and groaned, cursing occasionally inbetween.
One of his hands left your wrist to smack your pussy once before he lifted himself. Bringing one knee to the mattress, he stood as he thrusted downward into your throat. His hand enveloped it with a growl when he saw the shift inside of it. His eyes were locked on the bulge that appeared in your throat when he shoved it down.
His thrusts became sloppy as he got louder. He lean forward again, fully pounding your throat before hot seed filled it. You felt it hit your uvula in bursts, forcing you to cough and gag, your body desperately trying to suck in air through your filled neck. He stilled at the deepest point, his tip twitching to hit the back of your throat as you felt his balls tighten against your nose. He exhaled roughly before giving you one more slowly thrust, pulling out.
You gasped desperately, veins bulging in your face and neck. Your eyes were pink and your head was swimming due to it hanging upside down for so long. Spit and snot leaked down from your face along with his cum.
Kneeling next to you, he nuzzled your head with his own with soft shushing. "That's it, breath, honey... You did so good, took it so good. Made me feel so good, baby..." he muttered, kisses moving across your temple.
When your coughing subsided you breathed a sigh of relief that it was over, mumbling incoherently as your brain struggled to process. The fog lifted when you felt his hands around your ankles from the other side of the bed, dragging you to lay on it again. He crawled to join you before twisting you back around so your head was at the pillows.
Cries came more freely now as you saw his still hard cock scoot closer to your pussy. You head turned before narrowing in on a sheet of tablets sitting on the side table he'd been sitting at. Two blue pills missing.
Your throat burned as a weak cry tried to crawl out, but he'd abused it to the point of you loosing your voice. Pathetic squeaks falling from your mouth instead. You felt his cock slap against your pussy, it instinctively pulsed at the pressure. He pressed the tip to your clit, thrusting against it. Your back arched as your hips rolled with his, your brain was so fuzzy you didnt even register the noises spilling from your lips.
The stretch was sudden as he pushed into you. Your lips trembled around him as he slid inside easily. Your spit and already soaked his cock immeasurably, but the lube that leaked from you without permission added to it ease of which he came inside you without friction. You felt impossibly full when his hand came down to push on your lower stomach as he began working.
There was no build up, the speed was set from the jump as he hauled himself over you. His hips met yours with heavy thrusts, pounding into you without thought. The only time he let you breath was when he kneeled again, only to grab the back of your knees and shove them next to you head as he somehow fucked you harder. He felt no need to speak anymore, only occasion growls of how wet you were, which you hadn't needed verbal acknowledgement of. It was clear from the wet slaps that echoed in the room, bouncing off the walls and into your ears as you laid limp and took it.
Your mouth hung open as noises continued to force themselves from your throat, you had been so gone that you didnt flinch when you spit into your mouth, your throat instantly tensing as you swallowed it. You had lost almost all feeling, your hearing muffled, you took no notice of the impending release.
"Fucking shit baby... pussys so fucking tight 'round me... you gonna cum again? Hmm? You love this fucking cock, you know you do. You're body knows you do."
It went in one ear and out the other, you were reduced to a whimpering hole.
You didnt react when he pulled out to flip you onto your stomach, shoving one knee hip while the other stayed straight. He laid atop your seemingly lifeless body as he shoved himself back in and quickly resumed his previous pace. The cupped smacking sound reverberated with his pounding, your voice now muffled by the pillows you faced.
You felt his weight as his chest met your back and he rutted into you. Your fingers twitched with a mix of exhaustion, pleasure, and anxiety. He swiped your hair from your shoulder as he sucked another mark onto you from behind. Your voice raised a pitch as he thrusts began sloppy again.
"You're gonna make me cum again, honey... fuck yeah that's it, you can take it, knew you could." You whimpered as he lifted your hips, shoving you onto him just as harshly as he was fucking you. But you tightend around him all the same.
"Come on, cum with me, baby! Want your pussy to clamp down and suck my cum right out of my cock... milk me fucking dry, baby... lemme fill up that sexy fucking pussy!"
A scream was at the back of your throat as your body jumped like you were electrocuted. It came out as a broken cry as you shook violently. He didn't stop even after your orgasm run its course, only fucked you faster. Your hips pulled away as you mindlessly scrambled away from his unrelenting ones, but you were still under the influence of his roofie, and he was still so much stronger.
And so for another agonizing few minutes you shook and writhed and cried till he bottomed out. Cumming deep inside your abused cunt. You felt the warmth fill you as his tip hit your cervix, it spread quickly down to your opening where it leaked down onto the bed. He let himself to thrust a handful more times as he drained his balls inside of you.
And then he stayed there, his hand lifting your hips to keep it from leaking out. But there was so much, it filled your entire cunt. You felt his hands reached and pinch your slit closed around his cock. His mouth came to your ear as he whispered.
"Gotta make it stick... make sure you get nice and full."
You have nothing left in you to protest, only tears slipping by. You're so fucking dirty, cum and spit and snot and tears and sweat. The blanket your sprawled on feels like got left out in the rain.
You feel his cock soften inside you of before he pulls out. Two fingers immediately replace it, stuffing the little that leaks out back into your brushed pussy. You begin to lose your senses, your body unable to force itself to fight awake anymore.
You only feel the repeated drag of his fingers, a clicking sound like a camrea accompanied by a flash of light, and his breathless heaving. The bed shakes as he falls next to you before you feel his arm loosely wrap around you waist, pulling you into him. You eyes droop as you gave in. A lump forms in your throat when you feel a twitch against your ass as you slowly loose consciousness.
summary : sam had been begging you to let him eat you out, so obviously he's not going to let you be disappointed when he finally does
genre : smut , MDNI
"Please, sweetheart? Please let me eat you out, just this once." Sam looked at you with those puppy-like eyes, he knew that you couldn't resist him when he looked at you that way. A sigh left your mouth as you relentlessly agreed to his request. When he heard that he was instantly on his knees infront of you, pushing you onto the mattress as he was on the floor infront of the bed, slightly lifting up the hem of your shirt to place longing kisses on your stomach as he unbuttoned your pants.
You put your hand onto his head—tangling your fingers within his hair. After he pulled down your pants and got them off you, he looked up at you as he slowly tugged on your underwear and his kisses went lower to your core.
Once Sam reached to your slit, he was already licking and sucking on you like he's been waiting for this—he's been waiting for years, actually. Even at the very thought of him hearing you moan as he ate you out and you lightly tugging on his hair would almost make him cum in his pants like he was a teenager again looking at porn magazines from trashy gas stations.
His hands was placed firmly on your thighs while he kept moaning into you, causing you to squeeze your thighs together from the vibrations, but that only made Sam spread your thighs apart even more. Each noise and movement you made only made him hungrier for you, it encouraged him to go quicker with you.
"Holy fuck, baby— you taste so good, so sweet, I'm addicted to you—" he placed light kisses on your innerthighs, you felt the wetness on his lips that was made from you. Sam started to suck and lick your thighs, even biting to remind him later on that you let him do this.
While peppered kisses on you, he started to jerk himself off to the taste of you. He went back to licking you and began to squeeze your thighs in his hands—attempting to ground himself. The hand that was one his dick went faster and harder when he looked up at you and saw you look at him half lidded and dumb like from him.
"You look so fucking hot right now, did you know that?" Those words made the knot in your stomach tighter, signaling to yourself that you were close. "Don't— oh my god!— say things like that, Sammy— keep going, please don't stop, please!" Hearing you moan his name made him start to finger you as he sucked on your clit.
"You're getting close, aren't you, sweetheart?" You nodded eagerly, praying he didn't stop as a way to tease you. "Yeah?" He went more quick with you and he felt himself start to get to the point of cumming along with you.
He didn't stop as you moan out loud when you came, he came not long after you. He layed on the bed with you, but still fingered you lazily and started to kiss your neck. Your hand found itself back to his hair to play with it. Small whimpers and the sound of his fingers going in and out of you were heard, making Sam want more.
He got ontop of you and lined himself up with your entrance as you looked up at him confused, "oh, I need more, sweetheart. I need you more than you can imagine."
description: some friends getting together to drink turns into something a whole lot more when said friends get a little too drunk
pairing: machine gun kelly x female!reader x yungblud
warnings: swearing, drinking, smut
masterlist
Another show, another celebratory afterparty. Except, instead of it being a crazy party with essentially anyone who would show up, Colson and Dom decided to have a more tame party. Just the band members, their tour managers if they wanted to come, and Colson’s girlfriend, (Y/N), who had recently joined them on tour.
They were gathered in Colson and (Y/N)’s hotel room, drinking whatever alcohol was in the mini fridge, plus some extra beer that their tour managers picked up for them before the show.
Everyone else ended up turning in not too long after the get together started, leaving only Colson, (Y/N), and Dom.
“Are you gonna pussy out and turn in, too?” Colson asked him as he finished his fifth bottle of beer.
“Not unless you two want me to,” Dom responded. “I’m so full of energy from the show honestly I can’t imagine going to bed right now.”
Colson looked up at you, perched on his lap with a drink mixed from the alcohol in the mini fridge and a Pepsi she had picked up after the show. “What about you, baby? You tired yet?”
She shook her head. “Not really. I took a nap before the show so I’m basically wide awake right now.”
“Alright then, it’s been decided. We’re a party of three now.”
Colson held his beer out. (Y/N) and Dom laughed and tapped their drinks against his before the three of them held their heads back and finished the contents of their drink.
Hours passed, but by the first passing hour the three of them were properly drunk. So much so that at one point Colson even got a text from his manager that they had to keep it down or else the hotel would kick them out due to a noise complaint.
(Y/N) produced a deck of cards from her bag, one of the things she brought with her to keep herself occupied on busy days, or when she wasn’t feeling up to joining Colson at after parties, and the group decided to play a game of poker.
“Let’s make it interesting,” Colson decided as (Y/N) began dealing the cards. “Strip poker?”
(Y/N) eyed Colson. “Really? Strip poker with your best friend and your girlfriend, who is awful at poker?”
“You’re not awful at poker, you just have a shitty bluff face,” Colson told her. “Just try to not be as shitty and you won’t be the one stripping down.”
(Y/N) didn’t believe him too much about that, but she decided to go ahead with it anyways. Maybe Dom would be courteous enough to throw a few games so that (Y/N) wouldn’t be the one to end up getting naked.
She was so wrong.
Within the hour, she was stripped down to just her bra, underwear, and her t-shirt, meanwhile the furthest either of the boys had gotten was the loss of their shirts and socks. Colson would smirk at her every time her turn came around, knowing that by the end of it she would be stripping another article of clothing off. And of course, he was always right.
“Take that t-shirt off, baby!” Colson exclaimed, reaching for the hem of her shirt to take it off for her. (Y/N) batted him away, an annoyed look on her face.
“Shhhh! We’ll get in trouble!” she reminded him. “I don’t wanna play this anymore.”
“Come on, (Y/N), one more turn. If you lose again we’ll stop.”
She sighed heavily. Maybe it was the alcohol throwing her inhibitions out the window, maybe it was the fact that she felt so comfortable with both boys, or maybe it was just a touch of bravery that she was suddenly starting to feel. Whatever the case, (Y/N) pulled her t-shirt off without any hesitation and threw it with the rest of her clothes.
Dom’s eyes widened. This was the most exposed he had ever seen (Y/N). She was wearing a lacy black bra, that barley covered anything and pushed her boobs up in a way that made them look bigger, with matching black underwear. His eyes raked over her body for some time, unseen by (Y/N) as she was looking back at her cards. When he realized what he was doing, he quickly looked away.
Colson looked up at Dom briefly, seeing the young Brits face turning a bright red. He smirked to himself as he asked, “Something wrong, dude?”
Both Dom and (Y/N) looked up, and (Y/N) caught the same glimpse of Dom’s face Colson had. She giggled to herself as she looked away.
“N-no, everything’s fine,” Dom told Colson. “Just a little warm I guess.”
“That’s cause you have too many layers on,” (Y/N) told him. “Maybe you should take some of them off.”
“No, no, that’s alright,” Dom said, his eyes quickly going back to his cards. “I’ll turn down the heat or something.”
“No man, she’s right,” Colson said. “You can take off more clothes if you want. In fact…”
Colson stood and unbuttoned his jeans, pulling them down his legs and discarding them to the side. (Y/N) giggled and crawled over to Colson, setting herself on his lap again. He brushed her hair over one shoulder and began to kiss her neck. Dom looked away again.
“Don’t be shy, Dom,” (Y/N) told him. “This isn’t new to us. We often have company during…intimate moments.”
Dom’s eyes widened. “Wha - really?”
(Y/N) nodded, a slight moan erupting from her lips as Colson found a sweet spot on her neck. Dom looked down at the cards in his hand, although it was obvious that the game had been long abandoned.
“I’ve always been the adventurous type when it comes to sex,” she explained, “and Colson was always into it. We have parameters, obviously, like no exes, no former crushes or people that have or had a crush on us. Friends can be a grey area, it depends on how long we’ve been friends.”
“But no groupies,” Colson added, finally pulling away from (Y/N) long enough to speak. “The last thing we want is for someone to post about our sex life or to tell the media that we like to have a third party sometimes.”
(Y/N) shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s fun to experiment, to go beyond the comfort zone for some people. Like you, since you’re fidgeting and can’t look at us while we’re talking.”
“It’s just something I’ve never really thought of,” Dom told them. “Like I’ve never really talked about a threesome with any of my girlfriends or anything. They were never interested and because of that I never brought it up or anything.”
“Some people aren’t interested,” (Y/N) said. “Some girls would rather not have two dicks the one time, or have a female partner due to jealousy, some guys just wouldn’t want to fuck a girl with another guy in fear of…you know, stuff they’d consider gay or whatever. And some people would just rather have one sexual partner at a time. Which, is something else I should add, we only ever have sex with someone else while the other person is willingly involved. If the other people isn’t willing, or isn’t involved in some way, we don’t do it.”
“That’s right, my heart and my dick belongs to one girl,” Colson confirmed as he planed a kiss on (Y/N)’s cheek.
Dom shuffled awkwardly. He wasn’t really sure what to do with this information. Of course, he had nothing against his friends adventurousness, but why were they telling him this?
“Are you asking me if I…?” Dom started to ask them, but his words trailed off as realization hit him.
“Not if you don’t want to,” (Y/N) told him. “I know it’s a bit much considering the fact that we’re all best friends, and I’m your best friend’s girlfriend. And this wasn’t our original intent with asking you to stay, by the way. I don’t want you to think we’re just trying to get you into bed.”
Dom would be lying if he said he didn’t find (Y/N) beautiful, in a respective way of course since she was Colson’s girlfriend. He especially found her beautiful now, wearing just her matching lingerie, laid out in Colson’s lap with his hands wondering her body. Of course he had never thought about her in a sexual way, but if she was offering…if Colson was okay with it.
The smile on (Y/N)’s face brightened as Dom stood and began to take his own pants off. Colson cheered as he took another mouthful of the last beer he had. (Y/N) stood from his lap and took Dom’s hand, leading him towards the bed. She pulled his boxers down around his legs and began to pump his shaft. Dom’s head lulled back in pleasure as he let out a moan. He grew hard in (Y/N)’s head, and when he had she put his tip in her mouth, causing Dom to gasp.
She began to ease his length into her mouth slowly, watching as Dom came undone so quickly. She began to move her head back and forth, and Dom’s hand quickly took a fist of her hair. He tried to keep his moans quiet enough that they didn’t get any more noise complaints, but it was hard to do so when (Y/N) was making him feel so good.
Colson barley seemed bothered in his seat as he continued to drink the last of his beer. When he finished the bottle, he placed it with the others and stood, drawing the attention of Dom and (Y/N). He looked only at his girlfriend as he told her, “On your knees, baby.”
(Y/N) excitedly popped Dom’s dick from her mouth and got up on all fours on the bed, still leaning over the edge enough to take Dom in her mouth again. Colson knelt on the bed behind her and pulled down his boxers just enough to let his own dick spring free. He took it in his hand and pumped himself a few times before lining up with (Y/N)’s entrance and pushing his cock into her. The feeling of Colson filling her caused (Y/N) to moan around Dom.
Colson began thrusting into her, causing her head to move up and down Dom’s shaft without her having to move herself. Her moans of pleasure were muffled by Dom, who was biting his lip to keep from moaning himself. His hand was tangled in her hair and he couldn’t help but move her head faster. Colson’s thrusts became faster as well as he gripped her ass, leaving fingerprints do doubt.
After a while the three of them forgot about the noise complaint and soon enough both Colson and Dom were moaning so loud they were sure their neighbours could hear, and Colson started to thrust so much harder that the hotel room bed began to creek and hit the wall behind it. (Y/N) felt her orgasm quickly approaching, but kept Dom in her mouth as she hit it, her moans vibrating around him.
This was enough to make Dom hit his own high. He threw his head back and thrusted his hips forward, filling (Y/N)’s mouth. She took him deep in her throat, shooting the contents directly down her throat and into her stomach as she swallow. Colson continued to thrust into her, feeling her walls tightening around him as she hit her orgasm. The feeling, plus hearing both her and Dom hitting their own climaxes, drove Colson crazy and his followed not too long after.
As Colson rode out his orgasm, leaning over to place sweet kisses on (Y/N)’s back, she pulled Dom’s dick out of her mouth and smiled up at him, suddenly looking so innocent despite what they had all just done.
Dom’s head was spinning, both from the alcohol still in his system and from his orgasm. He was starting to feel tired, almost like he could pass out on the floor right then and there. He picked up his boxers and slid them back in place, pulling on his pants as well.
“I’m gonna head back to my room, I’m kind of tired,” he told the couple, who were now untangling from one another. “I’ll…I’ll see you both in the morning.”
(Y/N) was settling into the hotel bed as he left, giggling to herself. Colson cleaned himself up and got into bed next to her, wrapping his arms around her.
“How weirded out do you think he is?” she asked Colson as she rested her head on his chest.
“Right now? Very,” he responded. “Tomorrow morning, probably not as much.”
“Do you think he’ll want to do it again?”
Colson smirked as he kissed the top of her head. “Oh, definitely.”
“i got it.” i call out as patrick knocks on the door. “hi.” i smile and open it to see him smiling there. “hey.” he smiles back, softly kissing the side of my lips. “you’re early.” i point out, inviting him in. “wanna make a good impression.” he responds.
“okay, dad.” i call out, pulling him deeper into the house. i drag him into the living room to where my dad sits, watching tv. “yeah- oh.” he says, looking at us.
“this is patrick, my boyfriend.” i smile. “nice to meet you, sir.” he reaches to shake his hand. my dad shakes it and looks him up and down before letting go.
eventually i pull him away and into the kitchen where my mom is finishing up. “who’s this?” my mom smiles. “patrick, my boyfriend.” i introduce him. “nice to meet you patrick.” she smiles. “nice to meet you too, ma’am.” he smiles.
“dear.” she changes her attention to you. “hm?” i hum. “remember, we gonna have to cut dinner a bit short. the patterson’s invited me and your dad to a cocktail party.” she explains. “got it. i’ll clean up.” i softly smile. “perfect,” she says, wiping off her hands, “go make the table while i finish up.” she smiles.
i nod and pull out plates and silverware, handing the plates to patrick. we set down plates and cups. “wanna go get my dad?” i whisper to him as i follow behind him with silverware while he sets cups down. “i think he wants to kill me.” he whispers back. “i’ll go.” he sighs as he finishes and i smile as he leaves.
i help bring the dishes to the table as they come into the kitchen.
eventually we all get situated and we start eating. “food’s lovely, ma’am.” patrick smiles at my mom. “thank you.” she responds. “so any plans for after graduation?” my dad asks. “i’m planning on working at the music store at main street.” he smiles.
“oh isn’t that nice. been meaning to check that one out.” my mom smiles. we continue to eat for a moment, i softly take his hand under the table. i squeeze it one time for a check in, and he squeezes it back once to say he’s okay.
“so you do anything outside of school?” my dad asks. “yeah, i like to fix up cars, but your daughter seems to take up a lot of my time.” he answers, trying to get a laugh out of my dad. “oh. a future mechanic, huh.” he nods before eating.
dinner went by painfully awkward, eventually my mom and dad freshen up for the party and we finished eating then cleaning up.
“i think he hates me.” he sighs, carrying the last of the dishes to the sink. “he just needs to warm up to you.” i respond, washing off the plates. “do i smell like cigarettes? knew i should’ve not smoked today.” he asks.
“you’re fine, most dads don’t like their daughter dating people.” i smile. “hm. he thinks i’m a failure.” he sighs. “he doesn’t, i promise. he’s just tough.” i smile.
“okay, we’re heading out.” my mom walks into the kitchen. “okay.” i smile. “see you tomorrow. it was nice to meet you patrick.” my mom smiles. they leave as i finish up.
“okay.” i smile. he immediately presses his lips onto mine, lightly shoving me into the counter. “oh.” i hum against him. “sorry, i’ve been holding back all night.” he pants. i smile against him and pull him back.
he sneaks his hands down to my ass and he gropes them while he slips his tongue into my mouth, his easily winning dominance.
“pat.” i pant out. “hm?” he hums, moving down to my neck. “wanna go- fuck- upstairs.” i say. “okay.” he smiles. we move upstairs, stealing kisses and he slaps my ass a couple of times.
we reach my room and i pull him inside, quickly shutting and locking the door behind us. he pulls me on top of him on my bed. he connects our lips and it’s heated, clashing teeth and tongues fighting for dominance, which he quickly wins.
“please.” i moan, sneaking my hand down between us and palming him. his hand grabs mine and he flips us over. “did i say you could?” he spits. “sorry.” i apologize. “naughty girl.” he says.
he moves so he’s standing and i’m laying on the bed. “come on. kneel.” he demands. i follow his commands and kneel before him. “can i?” i ask, motioning to his fly.
“yeah.” he nods. i undo his belt and unzip his fly, then pull down his pants just a little bit. he helps me and pulls down his black boxers. his member pops out, slapping against his stomach. “shit.” he sighs, stroking himself.
“please.” i whine. “what do you want?” he asks. “fuck my mouth.” i swap his hand with mine and slowly stroke him. “yeah? want to have you throat fucked?” he smiles and i nod.
i take him in my mouth and he slowly thrusts into my mouth. “shit.” he takes my hair in his hands and uses it as leverage. i moan against him and he tightens his hand. “didn’t anyone teach you to not speak with a full mouth?” he taunts.
he continues to use me while i look up at him. “fucking slut.” he groans. i squeeze my thighs together for a bit of friction. “fucking pathetic.” he lowly laughs.
“wanna tell me who’s your real daddy?” he slows down. he pulls out and i catch my breath. “y-you. you’re my real daddy.” i look up at him, with pure submission in my eyes.
“good little slut.” he says, snapping his cock back into my mouth. “jesus.” he groans as i play with his balls. he continues to thrust into my mouth so i gag around him.
he uses my mouth like i mean nothing to him. i squeeze my hips together even more, trying to cause some friction. “look at you.” he smirks at my thighs. that just fuels him as he continues to fuck me.
i moan against him and he lets out a loud groan. i meet his eyes as i feel drool slip out from the corners of my mouth. he continues to fuck me and some tears fall down my face.
“aw. pretty baby is crying? you look so pathetic. choking on daddy’s dick.” he taunts. “shit.” he sucks in a sharp breath. “getting close baby.” he warns.
his hips become sloppy as he gets closer and closer. “oh fuck.” he sighs. “you’re treating me so well.” he praises. i let him fuck me as he eventually pulls out.
he finishes himself by stroking his cock and his seed goes all over my face. “shit, fuck.” he sighs as he finishes. he calms down and softly taps his cock against my head.
“here.” he says and quick runs to my bathroom. he comes back with a towel and helps me clean up. “you look so pretty.” he smiles as i finish cleaning up. “thanks.” i smile.
i go and wash my face and get ready for bed. i finish and join him in bed. “hi.” i croak out a bit as i lay down against him. “hey.” he smiles back. “you’re gonna be able to talk?” he asks and pulls me against him. “maybe.” i smile.
he softly laughs and kisses the top of my head. “you know i can’t stay?” he whispers after a moment. “mhm.” i nod. “where you disappearing off to?” i ask. “probably the same bar as normal.” he answers. “okay.” i nod.
“i love you.” he whispers. “i love you.” i whisper back. “i’ll stay until you sleep, how’s that sound?” he asks. “that works.” i nod as i’m already half asleep. “i’ll take you out for lunch tomorrow.” he promises. “okay.” i softly smile. “mhm.” he nods.
you catch your best friend spencer touching himself and far from being embarrassed, it only turns him on even more. if only you knew he had been dreaming about this moment for his entire fucking life and that he has even planned for it to happen…
cw;; (let’s act as if spencer and reader are the same age (consensual 18) in high school
really perv!spencer, dark themes, spencer uses readers body without implicit consent (i don’t know if it counts as cnc since later we find out she doesn’t mind), somnophilia (if you squint), INDECENT use of cum, stalker behavior, use of masculine sex toys, breeding kink, mommy and daddy kink, praise kink, praising, degradation, multiple orgasms, oral sex (f receiving), sub and dom spencer, p in v sex, unprotected sex, cum eating, cream pie, masturbation (m), voyeurism (?), dacryphilia, violence (not towards reader), dirty talking, hair pulling, blood… MINORS DNI OR I’LL COME FOR YOU!
@cafekitsune ‘s separators
Spencer was obsessed with you. Not in a lovely kind of obsessed —that too— but in a really perverted way. His sick infatuation commenced a warm summer, when you and him, best friends since freshman year, had ended up staying up late in your house for a movie night. Your parents were no where to be seen, and being scared of spending the night alone, you invited Spencer for a sleep over.
Everything was perfect. Little snacks, the newest film in D.C in tape and a cozy sofa in which the two of you silently rested as you stared at the tv. That was until you had fallen sleep on the other end of the sofa, loose and extremely short pijama pants letting your lace panties show and nipples erect due to the coldness of the night underneath your tight and white tank top. He found himself stating for far too long, instead of bringing up on your body the blanket that you both had been shared, his eyes taking in just how beautifully exposed you were.
Full honesty? He didn’t even remember how his dick had gotten that hard nor how it had ended on one of his hands, palm slick in precum as he thrusted in it, bottom lip in between his teeth and soft moans and groans scaping his lips. But he didn’t care. He came so hard that night that he swore he saw stars on your living room’s ceiling.
After that, he of course felt awkward and embarrassed of himself around you. Masturbating to his sleeping best friend, and just mere inches away from you? Jesus Christ. Though that remorse quickly went away when he found himself sinking deeper in that sickness under your name.
He relished in that pretty tears of yours when you cried about another stupid boy being mean to you and dumping you against his neck, your tits fully pressed to his chest and whimpers making his cock push against his jeans, even more when that same guys were the ones crying and begging for him to stop as he beat the shit out of them.
He liked to see you cry, but if it wasn’t because of him, he wouldn’t have it. He sent a couple of them to the ER, but they were too scared to get a couple more bones broken if they ever spoke up,— and also, who would believe them if they said that the slender nerd of their class was the one that beat them up— so he always got away with it. In no time, the guys were fucking terrified of even glancing at you, leaving you all to himself. Like it had to be. You were his, or you’ll be.
You were always complaining about things of yours disappearing, “Fuck! I cant found my chapstick.” him shrugging even when he knew that he was, in fact, the thug. Then, he’d go back to his house and open the last drawer of his desk — which he had under key— and take the same chapstick out of his pocket to push it inside along with the other things he had stolen from you: lipgloss, necklaces, bracelets… Panties.
He loved them. He almost had a collection of them, of all types; cotton, lace, thongs… He loved the ones that he stole from the dirty laundry the most, which’s crotch he could push against his nose and lick as he fucked his fist. Getting to taste and smell your slick always drove him crazy.
Another thing Spencer loved to do was take photos of you. He had albums and albums of polaroids for the two of you, being both on the pictures or just you. He loved to watch them from time to time: you smiling, you singing, you dancing, you blowing a kiss to the camera, jumping in the pool, petting a stray cat… Being simply you.
But he also had some photos that were exceptionally and just for him. Some of them were flashes of your body in those little and pretty bikinis you always wore in the warm summers, some other of your naked body —facing away from the door of your bathroom— when you changed, you eating ice cream with cheeks, lips and tongue stained in the vanilla treat, some of you sleeping, some others of the panties and little skirts that you’d wear. He even had one of you resting asleep on his lap, lips parted and against his hard cock. He saved some of them on his wallet in case he ever had to take care of a boner when he hung out with you.
He was in love with you. Sickly in love. Sickly enough to take some of those photos of yours and cut out your face just to tape them to his porn magazines. Some of the pages had even stuck together due to his cum.
And you were just so unbelievably oblivious of his infatuation that you always left the window to your room unlocked in case he ever wanted to sneak in in the middle of the night to stay with you if he ever felt lonely in his empty house. At first, before his infatuation appeared, he would sneak in from time to time when the loneliness became too strong for him to handle, cuddling with you and leaving first hour in the morning. Now? Now he snuck in almost every goddamn night. To cuddle, to watch you sleep, to be able to hold you close and even to take advantage of your heavy slumber. He had licked his cum out of your fingers when he had used your hand to masturbate, having to hold in his moans and whimpers. Other nights, he would get under your covers and part your thighs just to push his head in between them, face against your clothed cunt as his hips buckled against the duvet, tongue flattening against your heat and moaning when your thighs would unconsciously squish his head.
He loved it when you played with his hair, groaning when you’d pull from it when he’d tickle you, and laughing when you’d scream at him for using your good conditioner after a pool day. He was obsessed with your little lotions and expensive shampoos, using them as lube to fuck his hand while he showered in your house, using then his cum to fill the tubes, evening out the difference.
He would steal food from you in the cafeteria, using your own fork or spoons just to be able to have your spit in his mouth. You’d always whine about it, but he never stopped, so you eventually stopped caring, giving him full access to it when you were full.
Spencer considered himself to be a man with clear tastes when it came to sexual preferences. He would love to fuck you to his liking, to sink you into submission and to get you to call him daddy. He thought of himself as a dominant kind of person rather than a submissive one, but that changed when in one of his numerous wet dreams it was you the one who choked him and fucked him, using him like you’d use a fucking toy. He had woke up with a raging orgasm as from his lips fell the word ‘mommy’.
Was he a pervert? Absolutely. Would he ever speak up about his feelings for you? Absolutely not.
He’d prefer to die with a boner than ever telling you he loved you. He was just terrified of the thought of you pushing him away or ever hurting your friendship.
So after a day full of what he thought of ‘teasing’, since it always involved you dressing in one of those incredibly short skirts or staring at him for too long as you sucked on one of the lollipops that he always bought you, he would come to his house and enter his room with a full tent in between his thighs. He would pull out of the back of his closet his fleshlight and spray one of his pillows with those little bottles of your perfume that came as gifts with the bigger version just to bend his other one and push the fleshlight in it, fully lubed and ready for his cock to fuck into, just like that pretty pussy of yours. And that’s what he’d do, fuck his stupid little toy with his face fully buried on the perfumed one as he imagined you under him, ass up and chest pushed against his bedsheets. His pace was needy, harsh and deep, from his mouth, dirty talking spilling. ‘Yeah, take my cock you slut, fucking take it.’ ‘That’s a good girl for daddy.’ Those were always the best orgasms, making him fill the toy to the brim when he couldn’t found himself to stop. Too pussy drunk even when it wasn’t your pussy what he fucked in between whimpers.
He sometimes would leave his house’s and bedroom door open with the dream of you someday catching him red handed.
But they were all just dreams, they weren’t supposed to fucking happen in real life. Yet, there he was, and so were you.
That day he had come with a really painful bonner in between his thighs. You’d been sitting on his lap for a whole goddamn hour since your classmates from class B had borrowed most of your chairs to hang prom signals, leaving you without a place to sit and using your best friend as a chair. The problem was not only that, it was the fact that you’d be adjusting every five minutes and the fact that he had found himself being completely ignored by you as you talked with your best friends, laughing with them and jumping on his lap when the jokes were too good. Well, he was not being completely ignored, since one of your hands, had found his hair and slowly massaged his scalp, every now and then pulling at his hair when you played with his locks, his hands trembling on your thighs —which spread sideways across from his — thumbs circling your soft skin.
The fact that you were using him. The fact that he felt used by you and only you, was what had him gritting his teeth and fighting the urge to buckle against your ass. But Spencer was a good boy, so he just stood sit and went through that delirious torture with not a word coming out of his mouth. He felt like breathing once again when you got up from his lap when the bell rang, notifying the students that the day had ended, but still choking when he no longer could smell your cologne or felt you flush against him.
“Fuck…” he whimpered when he plopped on his bed, his palm pushing hardly against his pulsing and leaking cock, precum staining his jeans and underwear. He had pulled out from his closet his fleshlight, since he felt that his hand would not be enough today. He had to fuck himself. “Please, fuck me, please…” he was a babbling mess when his tip pushed inside the lubed toy. “Use my cock, baby… Use me…” he found himself whimpering at his mind scenario, in which you would ride him relentlessly, his dick reaching deep enough to hit that sweet spot that you’d torture to make yourself cum all over his cock. “Fuck, mommy, fuck, feels so good… Ah, faster.” he was a babbling mess, his hips rutting upwards against his hand movements to fuck his cock deeper in his toy.
“Spence!!!” you had called from downstairs as you opened his unlocked front door. Spencer always left it that way for you to come and go as you pleased. You were smiling, in between your hands a copy of a book he had been dying to read for months and for which he had cried after finding out that it had been sold out. After seeing just how badly he wanted it, you had been fighting with sharp nails to get a hold on one of the limited edition copies that had gone on sale in the city’s center, where you had rushed just as classes finished and where you had killed your savings in the dib. “I have a surprise for you!!” you chanted, locking the door behind you and jumping excitedly, frowning when you didn’t hear and answer from him. “Spencer?” you called out again, the soft sound of his voice reaching you from upstairs. You took off your shoes, a smirk growing on your lips when the idea of giving him a scare came to mind. Up the staircase, you were like a ghost, slowly approaching his room and mumbling, though you froze when a moan got to your ears. Your skin went pale and your cheeks heated up when needy whimpers followed up right after, as if all the blood under your skin had ended up pooling there.
“Fuck, just like that. Faster, please…” was he with someone? Your chest heaved at the thought of Spencer fucking with some random girl that wasn’t you. You’ve liked him for years on end, since the first time that he held you as you cried your heart out after your first breakup. But he never seemed to look at you in any other way that wasn’t friendly, so, at the end, —being too scared to speak up about your feelings in fear that it would break your friendship— you had decided to bury them as deep as you could inside you, believing that he had to be just what he was; your best friend.
Even though you knew it was wrong, you slowly approached his slightly open door, peeking in in need to see who was he fucking, promising yourself that you’d leave once you’ve taken a glance. But all that went to hell when you found out he was not fucking anyone but himself, back against the mattress, bare chest rising and lowering slowly as his hips fucked upwards, inside his clear flesh light. Your eyes widened and your legs trembled when from his lips new groans and moans fell. Spencer was fucking touching himself. Fuck, fuck, fuck… You needed to get away from there. Yeah, that’s what you’d do. You’d go back to your house and forget all about it… Or that’s what you thought, instead finding your feet glued to the floor as you watched.
He looked so hot and pretty all needy… Eyes closed shut and mouth agape in gasps, glasses crooked, eyebrows pushed together as his head fell back against his pillow, hair messy all over it. His hand was slow, pushing the toy down on his cock in deep and harsh strokes. You could almost perfectly see his long and thick dick, his thrusts making the lube’s wet sounds fill the room. “Ah, fuck…” his voice was low and so broken you felt your panties damp in your slick, you were so turned on that your free hand cupped your cunt, making you almost moan if you hadn’t bit down on your bottom lip.
Your fingers had started to push against the lace of your panties underneath your plaid skirt, freezing on your clit when a new babble came from inside the room and your best friend’s lips. “Fuck, y/n…, mommy…, please, fuck, fuck, fuck…” your eyes widened, not only because…, fuck, Spencer was fucking that goddamn fleshlight with you in mind doing so, but because he had called you mommy too. Surprisingly enough that only turned you on even more, a needy moan tearing your throat before you could push it down to your chest. Spencer’s movements stopped, his gaze moving to his opening door just to see you standing there, flushed cheeks, heavy breathing and book in hand.
He quickly pushed away the toy, cursing under his breath when he sat up, a pillow hiding his hard and leaking cock, which was twitching at the sight of your trembling legs. “Fuck, y/n, I…” he didn’t even know what to say. You had caught him, caught him fucking himself with his goddamn fleshlight, and even worse, caught him moaning your name. He felt sick to the stomach, but at the same, so turned on too. You had caught him… Finally. And who knows how much time you had been listening and peeking at him while he pleasured himself. He had to hold back a whimper at the thought of it. “How much did you hear?” he cursed when you didn’t answer, cheeks reddening and cock twitching under the pillow, leaking against his thigh.
“Mommy.” you said, making his head snap back to you, a frown on his face, eyes widening when you let the book fall from your hands as you stepped in, closer to his bed.
“W…What?” fuck.
“ ‘Mommy’. That’s what you called me.” you smirked, eyes falling to his lap when he pushed the pillow further down. “Who would think that Spencer, the Genius Spencer Reid, would be so goddamn dirty to even leave the door unlocked for anyone to see as he fucks himself. And even worse, have a mommy kink.” he stuttered as he shook his head.
“It’s not what it seems like, I…”
“You what?” you pushed, thumb and index gripping his chin so his eyes would find yours. “Are you gonna deny that you were touching yourself while thinking about me? That you were calling me mommy and whimpering for me to fuck you faster?” he moaned at your words, half-lidded eyes full of lust staring at your full and rosy lips. “Mmh? Answer me.” you ordered and he whimpered, your pussy clenching when he shook his head and cried out a ‘no’. “ ‘No’ what?” your lips brushed against his, teasing him to get out of him what you wanted.
“No, mommy.” you pulled his hair when he tried to kiss you, making him groan against your lips as you clicked your tongue. “Please…” he pleaded, hands rocking the pillow on his lap.
“Only good boys get a kiss, Spence.”
“I’m a good boy…” he was so gone that you almost laughed, so needy for pussy…
“Oh yeah?” he nodded, his tongue dampening his lips, hips thrusting upwards towards the pillow that covered his naked body. “The why don’t you show me?” he shivered when your lips latched to his neck, your tongue pressing against his skin in open mouth kisses that led to his ear. “Why don’t you show me how good you are and let me watch you fuck that pretty toy of yours, hm?” he moaned, muttering a ‘fuck’ as he nodded, making you smirk. “Then go ahead, baby, let me see.” you pulled away as he pushed the pillow off his lap, dick twitching below a pool of precum that dripped from his tip.
In the state he was… He would do anything for you. He would even fuck himself stupid if you said the word. Anything you asked, anything you wanted. Anything for you.
He moaned when you sat down on his desk’s chair, skirt rolling up and letting more of your soft and beautiful thighs show. His hands were shaking when his fingers gripped around the clear silicone or his toy, whimpering when he noticed your eyes on his twitching dick.
You had seen dicks before, but none of them was as beautiful as Spencer’s. It was big, with a great large and just the perfect girth, large and thick enough to have you limping for a few days after a good fuck. And you knew he could give it to you, that he would fuck your hard and needy, deep enough to have you drooling over yourself as you came over and over again. You would love to drool and choke on it too, outline the veins on his shaft with your tongue and take him so deep on your throat you’d need to swallow when he came in your mouth. “Aw, poor Spence…” you cooed at his twitching cock, red tip and tight balls. “Caught about to cum. It must really hurt, doesn’t it baby?” he nodded, tears on his eyes due to your teasing, chest rising in heavy breaths. “Are you gonna cum on that cup for me to drink, hm? Want me to drink your cum, Spencer?” he moaned a breathy gasp, and you smirked to his reaction. He liked that.
“Yes, yes, yes…” he muttered, almost begging for it. The thought of you swallowing his cum making him go crazy. He whined when his leaking tip brushed against the artificial hole, his lip being tortured by his teeth when you parted your thighs, panties exposed and damped lace for him to see. “Fuck…” he cursed, bottoming out into the wetness of the fleshlight in a deep and large stroke, almost cumming at the sight. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” your hands came down your body, your left resting on your breasts— hard nipples pushing against your shirt, which you pulled and pinched in between your fingers— and your right sneaking in between your thighs and below your underwear, whining when you felt just how wet you were. “Shit, y/n.”
His dick was twitching like crazy with every new and fast thrust of his hips, pleads falling of his lips. ‘I need you. Need you so bad…’ ‘Please mommy…’ ‘I’m gonna cum, i’m gonna cum…’
“Oh yeah? You gonna cum?” You clicked your tongue when he nodded, chuckling at his behavior. “Look at how pathetic you look.” he whimpered when you had made your way back to his side, standing in front of him and making his head fall backwards when you harshly pulled on his hair, making his hips stutter and breathy whines rip his throat. “Hold it. I haven’t even told you where to cum yet.” he cried when you pushed down your thighs your panties. “Fuck, you are too fucking loud.” you said and he had to squeeze his dick to not come when you pushed your damped panties into his mouth, slicked crotch flat against his tongue. His muffled begging only made your pussy wetter, his eyes full of tears that seemed about to fall when he could take a taste on just how sweet you were. He choked on the lace when you startled his legs. His eyes fell just as your free hand did, straight to your core, where your fingers dug on your wet folds and parted them for him to see thin strips of slick connect them and just how swollen your little pink bud was, hidden under its hood. “Here. Cum on my pussy.” you said, leaning on the skin of his neck to suck a hard hickey on his flesh.
You didn’t even had to say it twice, his hand quickly throwing away the fleshlight to cum all over your folds and clit, muffled groans and moans filling the room when his white and heavy gropes painted your core in white, his mind all foggy and pussy drunk just by the simple contact of your cunt on his tip. You hummed as you stroked his hair, open mouth kisses being splattered across his chest. He was still fucking hard. “Good boy…” you cooed, loving just how fucked out he seemed, moaning when you sat on his cock, his length in between your wet folds and his tip bumping against your clit.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck….” he cried out with your panties on his mouth when you rocked your hips against his. That’s all it took for him to cum for a second time, right after his first orgasm.
You moaned, feeling his dick twitch and nails dig on your ass, your pussy sliding too easy due to the amount of his cum that coated it. “You came again, baby?” he nodded, his cock quickly getting hard again to your humping. “Fuck, Spencer…” you pulled your panties away from his mouth, wanting to hear his groans. “Look at you, making a mess of my cunt.”
“Fuck, y/n…” your name sounded so wonderful falling from his lips… “Please, can I… Can I clean it for you? Let me clean it for you, pleasepleaseplease. I’ll make you feel good, I promise, I’ll be good…” you pulled his bottom lip with your thumb, warm skin under your fingertips. “I promise. I promise mommy…” your thumb brushed your own lips when he leaned in, pupils blown and need on his hazel thin irises. He looked high. And he was, high on his favorite drug: you.
You nodded, giving in, and gasped when he had your back pressed against the mattress in just a matter of seconds, lips all over the skin of your neck and exposed collarbones, his hands leaving your hips to bump against the bottom of your tank top, fingers so desperate to see your tits that dug too hard on the piece of clothing enough to tear it up. You moaned when you felt the fabric give out, his hands cupping your exposed breast and biting hickeys on its flesh in between groans, muttering a ‘The prettiest tits I’ve ever seen, fuck.’. You were tugging on his hair as he played with your tits, biting your nipples and teasing you for a couple of minutes before slowly lowering his lips further down on your stomach, bumping with your skirt, which he quickly discarded it away on his bedroom floor. He pulled away to look to your fully naked body, hair messily spread on his pillow —the same he had fucked multiple times while thinking about you—, lips swollen due to constant biting, half-lidded eyes and flushed skin. He moaned, dick twitching, ‘cause you were so goddamn perfect. Perfect for him.
He didn’t waste time in parting your thighs —which he took his time with, and of course he would, he had been dreaming about making them bleed for years now—, leaving open mouth kisses and sucking hard on the skin, making you whimper and tug on his hair. “Spencer…” you whined when he bit down on your flesh, making your back arch at the incredible pleasure the pain inflicted made you feel. He was so drunk on your skin… He could spend his whole life kissing it that he would never get fucking tired of it. But his teasing was making your pussy clench and tingle. You needed his mouth on it now. And he seemed to get it when you pushed him further against it, his hands taking your now fully marked thighs to pull them above his shoulders as he sunk on the mattress, stomach flat against it and fingers gripping at your flesh. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head when his tongue pushed in between your covered in cum folds, flattening in a long strip and bumping against your clit. Both of you moaned, him due to just how much he had dreamed about the taste of your pussy —which he had tasted before, but only clothed— and you to how many times you had touched yourself with his mouth in mind. His name falling off your lips on a whimper had his hips rocking against the duvet as he ate you out sweet and slow.
It was only when his fingers found their way to your entrance that he started to eat you just like you needed and he always dreamed of: rough, needy and hungry. You were screaming his name when his fingers pushed inside you, quickly fucking the shit out of you and curving to hit your g spot as his tongue circled your clit. Spencer knew how to use it, really well. So well that he had you tipping the edge in less than ten minutes. He was like a starved man, burying his face in between your thighs unable to get enough of you and your sweet taste, of the mix of the two of you in his tongue. “Fuck, Spencer, I…” you babbled, thighs twitching as you pulled harder on his hair. He knew you were close by how moans fell of those pretty lips of yours over and over again. “I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum…” you cried out, Spencer crushing your sweet spot with every harsh thrust of his fingers.
He moaned, begging for it. “Please cum on my mouth, mommy. Please, let me have it, please mommy, please…” you whined when his tongue gave just one last stroke to your clit, dissolving in the hardest orgasm you’ve ever had, whimpers against your cunt as Spencer drank every last drop of it all, helping you ride out your orgasm as your sweet moans filled his bedroom.
You mewled when once you’ve come down from your high, his tongue licking you clean as hips rutted on his wet sheets, seconds away from coming when you called from him. He whimpered when you tugged on his hair, pulling him away from your pussy as you sat up. He looked completely gone. Half-lidded eyes unfocused, messy hair due to your tugging, swollen lips and wet chin. “Please, just a little bit more, mommy…” he begged, needing to go back in between your thighs. Needing to taste you and make you cum again on his mouth. “Please, I need it…” your eyes fell to his twitching and leaking cock, and then, to the dampness of the sheets where he had been rocking against. You clicked your tongue as you took him in your hand, making him gasp.
“I’ll let you choose where to cum next, Spencer.” you said, your other hand coming to his cheek to rub the flush on his skin. “I could let you eat me out again and let you cum all over the sheets all by yourself…” his balls tightened to the thought of it, feeling cold when the hand that cupped his face left him to fall in between your thighs, spreading you open for him to see. “Or you could cum inside of me.” his eyes rolled to the back of his head, hips thrusting into your hand in anticipation. “What do you say, Spence? Where do you want to cum, baby?” he was almost hyperventilating, whimpers falling of his lips as he leaned on you, eyes on your own.
“Inside.” he found himself to mutter, unable to think, not when you were offering him the chance to fuck you raw and fill you up. Just the thought of it had him reeling.
“Oh yeah?” you whispered against his lips, him nodding slightly, bewitched by your minty breath connecting with his own. “You wanna cum inside, hm? Gonna let me use your cock too?” you gave him a sweet smile when he moaned, furiously nodding. Leaving a little peck on the corner of his mouth, you fell backwards on your back once again. “Then come here, Spence.” he was fast to top you, your thighs parting to receive him there, hands on his neck when he leaned in, eyes asking for permission to kiss you, which he didn’t even need since you were now entering your tongue in his mouth, making him groan. Fuck, he could come just with that. With your tongue on his mouth, your body against him and the thought that you were only letting him fuck you to seek your own release. He moaned on your open mouth when you took his dick to align it with your entrance, which twitched at the feeling of his tip. You needed him, and you needed him now. “Fuck, baby, please fuck me Spencer, please, please…” you whimpered, and he didn’t wait to push inside in a deep and fast stroke. You both moaned, foreheads against the other’s as he bottomed out.
“Fuck, so tight, mommy, so tight… Shit. I’m gonna cum.” your head had fallen backwards in gasps, giving him full access to your neck, which he kissed and sucked, leaving new marks. He was so big you felt like splitting in half, but not in a painful way. His stretch had you delirious, his tip brushing against that sweet spot that would make you come in a matter of seconds. Your nails dug on the skin of his back, making him groan. The two of you were taking your time, him getting used to the feeling of your tight and warm walls trying to milk his twitching dick and you to the feeling of his heavy and big cock sitting inside your wet cunt, spreading you to edges you’d only dreamed of getting to. He groaned against your neck when you started to unconsciously rock against him. “Please y/n, can I fuck you now? Let me fuck you mommy, please? I need to… I need to…”
“Go ahead, baby. Be a good boy for me and let me use your cock, alright?” he whimpered at your words, and in less than one second he had you gripping to his back for dear life and losing yourself in between moans. “Oh fuck, yeah Spencer, just like that baby, shit, fuck me, fuck me…”
He was just feral. Thrusting in you with just cumming in mind. His hips were pushing against yours in a hurry, hitting that spot inside of you that had you whimpering as you thrusted yourself on his cock, just as desperate as him. He was too pussy drunk to even kiss you straight, spit dripping down your chin at the messy made out. “Fuck, y/n, mommy, shit, so good, feels so good, fuck, I love it, love your pussy, ah shit, love you mommy, loveyouloveyouloveyou…” he was a mess. Both of you were. His thrusts had you drooling on the pillow, back arched and eyes squeezed shut, too lost in the pleasure, in him. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to your release with every new deep and harsh thrust, making your nails dig up on his back, probably leaving marks.
“Fuck, Spencer, fuck, I’m close, shit, I’m gonna cum…” you whimpered on his ear, making him fuck you harder.
“Cum on my cock, mommy, please, please… Use me. Use me…” he begged, and then you could only feel yourself cumming over and over again. It was all too much, but too good at the same time. So good that had your soaked cunt gushing all over his dick as he fucked you dumb, his hands pulling on your nipples and teeth digging so hard on your neck that draw blood. You were seeing fucking stars in the ceiling.
The only thing that you seemed able to coherently form was his name, which you chanted like you sang your favorite summer song. “Spencer, Spencer, Spencer…”
“Shit, Imma cum, I’m cumming so fucking hard… Gonna fill your pussy mommy, gonna…, fuck!” his thrusts became sloppier. “Im gonna cum, i’mcummingi’mcummingi’mcumming.”hips thrusted one, two, three more times before his dick twitched inside of you, filling you so full you choked on air, your eyes rolling to the back of your head when some of it spilled out. He was whimpering ‘mommy’ over and over again in between cries against your neck, thick gropes of cum painting your insides in the purest white.
“Shit, fuck, Spencer. So good…” you moaned, rolling your hips at the feeling of fullness. You were fucked out, brain dead on the cock that had just gave the best sex of your life. You were trying really hard to come down from your high and calm down your breathing. “Spencer!” Though you really couldn’t even do that, since you found your head being hardly pushed against his pillows and back arched with your chest against the duvet when he pulled you up from your ass, his newly hard cock ramming inside of your full of cum pussy. You cried out when his hand came down on one of your cheeks in a hard spank that had you whimpering.
“You didn’t think I was done with you, were you, ‘mommy’?” you could hear the teasing in his voice. “I’m sure you really enjoyed having your way with me, didn’t you?” you couldn’t really comprehend how his mentality had switched so drastically fast, but you were no one to whine about it. If a submissive Spencer had you cumming so hard on his cock, how would a dominant fuck you out? You felt your pussy clench around his dick in anticipation. “Well, I hope you did, ‘cause now is my fucking turn.”
-
i needed to.
In love with Larry @imobsessedwithlarry - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
