Begging for a semi continuation of the one where Jack fucks her to sleep but then keeps going after she’s out…. Pls indulge my somno fantasies, your writing hits different
OH yes... somewhat cont/remix of this gorgeous piece i req'd from @tnydolly mwah <3 think i got a little carried away and made it #freakier somehow... enjoy!!
jack groans as you roll against him. the heat of you surrounds him perfectly: he can feel the tension in your muscles, every single shift of your hips making his own control fray.
"that’s it, angel," he rasps, his fingers gripping your hips tight, guiding you into a slower, deeper rhythm. his forehead presses against yours, until your breath mingles with his. "fuck yourself on me, just like that, until you forget everything else."
he pulls back just enough to watch you, the way sweat glistens on your skin. "look at you," he murmurs. "taking it so good. you just needed a big dick inside you, huh?"
"i'm gonna pass out," you whisper in response, feeling your brain start to slow as your orgasm approaches. you're just trying to keep yourself conscious as you ride jack through your exhaustion, whimpering into the crook of his neck.
he exhales sharply, fingers tightening on your hips, both to steady you and keep you moving. "no, you're not," he says in that familiar commanding tone. "you're gonna come first. then you'll pass out."
his grip shifts, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head: supporting you as your movements grow clumsier, your breathing ragged. "you're gonna come so hard," he promises in a rough whisper against your lips. "gonna make that pretty little brain go blank."
"i am?" you sniffle, clinging onto him for dear life. the way your fingers twist into his scrubs, your whole body trembling with the weight of exhaustion and pleasure, drives jack crazy.
"yeah, princess," he murmurs against your mouth between soothing kisses. "you're gonna come so hard on daddy's cock that it'll knock you right out. come, then sleep. i'll keep you safe right here on my cock where you belong."
one hand cradles the back of your head while the other rubs fast circles on your clit, just the way you like. "almost there," he breathes against your ear, voice low and coaxing like a prayer. "let go for daddy. come on my cock, right fucking now."
his hips jerk up in short, shallow thrusts to meet each frantic grind of yours, the added friction of his fingers working relentlessly between your thighs and tipping the scales.
you moan into his neck as pleasure and relief course through you, not even noticing that you've drenched his lap and soaked through his scrubs. you at least have the decency to moan out a quick, laboured "daddy," against his ear before immediately passing out on his shoulder, as promised.
your body goes boneless against his, draped over him like a human blanket while your eyes fall shut. he adjusts instantly, one strong arm sliding under your knees to cradle you while the other supports your back.
"out like a light," jack whispers fondly. he holds you against him, fingers skimming over your skin. "good girl. daddy's got you." he presses a lingering kiss to the crown of your head as he shifts, carefully maneuvering both of you sideways on the couch so you're lying more comfortably.
"you're so pretty like this," he whispers as he pecks your temple. one of his hands strokes slow circles between your shoulder blades while the other combs through your sweat-soaked hair.
and jack loves you, and he respects you, but he's still a man, and he's still hard as fuck inside you. he exhales sharply as he starts to thrust again, slow and deep, savoring the way you take him. "so good for me," he mutters, watching your face for any signs of discomfort, or waking. "taking me so well, sweetheart."
the pace builds gradually, your sleepy murmurs spurring him on until he's lost in the rhythm of you, in the way your body responds to him even in this state. "...jack..." you breathe out in your sleep, rolling your hips back onto him.
his entire body tenses at the sound of his name escaping your lips. he presses his forehead to your shoulder, pulse hammering as he fights to keep his rhythm steady. "you're dreaming about me, aren't you?" he whispers into your collarbone.
"dreaming about me fucking you just like this, baby? dreaming about how good I make you feel?" he rolls his hips deeper, relishing the way you arch into him. "that’s right, angel," he murmurs, breath hot against your skin. "even in your sleep, you can’t help but want me."
he shifts slightly, angling himself to hit just right, and watches your face— your parted lips, the flutter of your lashes— with something close to reverence. "go on, baby. keep dreaming. daddy’s got you."
One night apart shouldn't be that difficult. At least that's what Javier keeps trying to tell himself. The problem is that he misses her. The bigger problem is that he's also incredibly horny.
Warnings: javi pov, 18+ (mdni), phone sex, dirty talk, mutual masturbation (male+female), fingering, jerking off, mentions of: oral sex, p in v sex and javier's big dick; sexual fantasizing, orgasm (male+female), pillow humping, possessive language, praise, established relationship, lovesick and horny javier peña, comfort, kinda fluff, aftercare via call | if i missed any warnings, please let me know and I'll add them | if you're wondering what inspired this, unfortunately the answer is that i was horny
w/c: 3.2k • javi fic masterlist • taglist form
I get home after a long fucking day. Crosby's been breathing down my neck. We still haven't managed to catch another one of the Cali cartel godfathers after months of chasing ghosts. Feistl broke some agreed-upon rules again and almost screwed over the entire DEA because of it. Just a shitty day all around.
And the cherry on top? She's not home tonight. Usually when I get back, she's here. I hear her softly humming along to one of those songs she likes that drive me insane. Then she comes to greet me, and from that moment until I fall asleep, she's basically a clingy little koala that won't leave me alone.
But you know what? I fucking love it. Except tonight isn't like that. She had to leave overnight for work. No, I'm not thrilled about it.
Cali has their fingers everywhere. They know about every little thing that moves in this goddamn country, and they especially keep an eye on people connected to the American embassy. That's why I always send one of my agents with her. Just to keep an eye on her. Nothing more.
Thankfully it doesn't happen often, and most of the time she's here in Bogotá. But today, of all days, the one day I actually need her. Need her laugh. Need all the stupid random bullshit that comes out of her mouth.
When I walk inside, all that greets me is silence and darkness. I toss my keys into the bowl on the dresser, shrug off my jacket, loosen my tie a little without taking it off completely. I try to distract myself at first. I turn on the TV just for background noise. I stand in the kitchen going through some files I brought home from the office. Doesn't help.
My thoughts keep drifting back to her. To yesterday. To the way she was packing a few things into her suitcase. Running around the apartment in those ridiculous little shorts that barely cover her ass. The kind that always give me a perfect view of her legs and the bottom curve of her cheeks. Just thinking about watching her lean over that suitcase yesterday makes my cock twitch. Fuck.
At one point I grabbed her by the hips and pressed myself against her until she could feel exactly how hard I was. Sometimes I swear being around her turns me into a horny teenager who can't keep his dick under control. I couldn't help it.
She just laughed. But then she started deliberately wiggling her ass against me, pressing herself right against my crotch. And that was the end of that.
I unbuttoned my pants, shoved them down just enough, pulled out my hard, throbbing cock, pushed those stupid tiny shorts aside and realized she wasn't wearing a damn thing underneath. That alone nearly drove me out of my mind. I pushed into her without another word and she let out a little gasp.
She was already soaking wet. She always is. Perfect. Tight. Wet. Mine.
Jesus Christ. Just thinking about it makes my groin tighten and my cock start responding. Fuck. I need her right now. After a day like this.
I drop heavily onto the couch. On the coffee table, I spot one of her hair ties. I'm always finding her hair ties all over the apartment. That's nothing new. Tonight, though, it gets under my skin a whole lot more. I pull a cigarette from the pack sitting beside it and light up. Maybe that'll get my mind onto something else.
But then I remember this morning. And not just the part where she said goodbye at the door, smelling like vanilla and shampoo. I remember what happened before that.
The way the blanket shifted and woke me up as she slipped underneath it, moving down toward my hips. She rested her hands on them, and then I felt her lips wrap around my morning hard-on. She gave me one hell of a blowjob before I was even fully awake. Sucking me, licking me, like her life depended on it.
At one point I couldn't take it anymore and pulled her up toward me.
She understood immediately. She climbed on top of me and, with a soft sigh and those half-lidded eyes she gets when she's turned on, lowered herself onto me.
I just watched my cock disappear inside her. Watched her ride me. Watched the way she rolled her hips, finding exactly the angle she loved.
After a while, with her wrapped so tightly around me, holding me inside her, I couldn't take it anymore. I started thrusting up into her, digging my fingers into her perfect ass to help her move faster. And then I came so hard I saw stars.
While she tightened around me, her own orgasm tearing through her body, I was completely gone. She was shaking above me, breathless, and I couldn't look away. God, I loved it. Perfect fucking morning.
And suddenly… I don't even realize I'm doing it at first. My palm slides over my cock. Through my pants. Because I never bothered taking them off. So now I'm sitting here like an idiot with a hard-on trying to punch its way through my slacks while I think about the way she took me this morning.
The way she wrapped herself around me. The way she felt. The way she smelled. Like sex. Like her.
I wet my lips. My hand keeps rubbing the bulge that's getting impossibly hard. Jesus Christ. I'm not really about to jerk off on the couch like some desperate asshole. But fuck. This hard-on isn't going anywhere.
I don't think about it for long. I crush the half-smoked cigarette into the ashtray and reach for the phone. I know exactly which hotel she's staying at in Cartagena. I booked it myself.
When the front desk answers, all I have to do is give my name. The receptionist sounds like she already knows who I am and transfers me to her room without any questions.
She picks up on the second ring. "Hello?"
The second I hear her voice, my cock practically loses its mind. "Cariño, it's me," I murmur.
"Oh, Javi. I wasn't expecting you to call." I can practically hear her smile.
"Not happy to hear from me?" I tease.
"Actually..." she drawls lazily. "I was about to read, so... you're kind of interrupting me, sir."
I smile against the receiver, my hand still resting over my cock, which somehow feels even harder just from hearing her voice. "Hmm. Then maybe I should let you go..." I say slowly, squeezing myself through my pants. "...so I don't keep you from your reading." A quiet breath leaves me.
And somehow I can feel her attention sharpen. I don't know how. She's hundreds of miles away and all I've got is her voice through a phone line. But somehow I know she realizes I'm not calling just to chat.
"Javi...?"
"Mhm?" I'm not even trying to hide the quiet groans anymore. My cock throbs hard beneath my pants as I gently squeeze the tip through the fabric with my palm. I'm trying to recreate her touch.
The way she teases me under the table during those boring dinners with embassy politicians just to completely ruin me. Just because she likes teasing me. Because she finds it funny. Every single time, she wraps that little hand around me through my pants, giving me slow squeezes while I have to sit there pretending nothing's happening.
But at home… when we get back… I never let that little brat get away with it. I always make sure she remembers exactly why you don't do shit like that in public.
She always ends up sighing into my ear, moaning while I fuck her hard. Completely under my control. But we both know that was her plan from the beginning.
As I think about it, I already know that whole "I'm not jerking off on the couch like a teenager" idea is officially dead. This ends one way. A groan slips out before I can stop it. I hadn't meant to make a loud sound. But fuck. There's no holding it back.
"Oh... you're thinking about me, Javi?" Her voice is different now. Not innocent. Not playful. Serious. Lower. A whole octave lower.
Exactly the way it always gets when I'm taking her. When I'm buried inside her. When my hands are on her. When we’re fucking. Her voice always drops.
Maybe you'd think a guy like me wouldn't notice something like that. But I fucking notice. And I fucking love it.
I don't answer.
So she keeps going. "Do you miss me?" she whispers. "Tell me how much you miss me." She's not really asking. She's not pushing.
And suddenly I'm reminded how goddamn much I love her. How she always knows.
"Tell me what you miss most right now, Javi..." She sighs softly, and I hear sheets rustling through the phone. Sounds like she's getting comfortable in bed. Like she's lying back. Like she's getting ready to touch herself too.
Fuck. I know it. I know exactly where this is going. "I miss you, cariño," I say, sinking further into the couch.
"And what else, Javi...?"
"I miss those ridiculously short shorts I fucked you in yesterday."
"Mhm..."
"You wearing them right now, baby?" I whisper.
"I am."
"Will you take them off for me?"
She doesn't answer. But I hear the sheets move again. A few seconds later she hums softly. "They're off, Javi."
Just imagining them sliding down that perfect ass makes my cock somehow get even harder. If that's even fucking possible. "You lying down, cariño?"
"I am. And..." she pauses. "Those shorts were the only thing I was wearing."
I swallow hard and let my head fall back against the couch.
"So now I'm just lying here… completely naked… and there's nobody here to do anything about it, Javi." She says it with that mock-offended tone she uses when she's fishing for exactly the answer she wants.
"What exactly would you want me to do if I were there, baby?" I ask, playing along. My cock twitches so hard it's practically demanding to be let out of my pants.
"I'd want you to see how wet I am, Javi..." Her voice drops even lower. "I'd want you to find out just how wet your little slut is for you."
Fuck it. I unbutton my pants, pull down the zipper, and slip my hand inside my boxers, wrapping my fingers around my cock. Hot. Hard. The vein running along the shaft pulses wildly beneath my grip. Fuck. "Baby... spread your knees for me... nice and wide..." My voice catches as I pull myself free from my pants. "Touch yourself for me. Be good and let me hear you, baby."
Finally. Out. My cock stands painfully hard, a bead of precum glistening at the tip. I haven't been this worked up in a long time. And that's saying something considering we fucked last night and again this morning.
"Hmm... I'm wet, Javi..." Her voice pulls me out of my thoughts. "Really wet... exactly how you like me."
"That's my good girl." I murmur into the receiver. "So fucking perfect. Getting wet just from hearing my voice, huh, bonita?" As I say it, I picture whispering it directly into her ear.
Picture my hands on her. Picture my fingers testing just how wet she is. My thumb rubbing slow circles while my fingers tease her, making her squirm.
The image is so clear in my head it's almost torture. Somewhere along the way I realize I've started stroking myself. Slowly dragging my hand along my hard cock. Working the head. Thinking about something completely different than the couch I'm sitting on. "Put your fingers inside yourself, mi amor," I order quietly.
"Mhm..." The sound she makes tells me immediately she already has. "I'm doing it, Javi..." she breathes. "Two fingers... and I keep wishing they were yours." A soft moan follows. "Yours are better."
"Yeah, cariño..." My grip tightens. "I know exactly what you like."
Her breathing catches.
"Exactly the spot that makes you arch off the mattress."
Another quiet moan.
"Lift your hips for me, cariño. Give yourself what you need."
Hearing her like this only makes everything worse. Or better. My stomach feels hot. Wave after wave. My hand keeps moving. Slow. Faster. Slow again. Then faster. I'm trying not to finish too soon, even though I'm already dangerously close.
"Javi?" she whispers.
"Yeah, baby?"
"If I was there with you right now..." Her words keep breaking apart between breaths. "...I'd touch you."
I close my eyes. "Yeah?"
"I'd wrap my hand around you..." she continues softly. "And make sure you could feel exactly what you do to me."
The image hits me like a punch. My hips jerk upward on instinct. Fuck. That's my problem. My imagination works a little too well. And the second I picture her hand on me, I know I'm completely screwed.
"I love your hard cock, Javi..." She keeps talking like she knows exactly how fucked I am. Like she can feel every hot wave rolling through my body. Like she knows my cock is twitching in my hand. Knows how swollen the head is. How badly it wants to be buried inside her beautiful pussy. Because somehow, despite knowing she's miles away, part of my brain still hasn't accepted that I'm not getting inside her tonight.
That all I've got is my hand and her voice. Don't blame me. Ever since we started living together, we fuck practically every day. So yeah. This situation fucking sucks. Still… what she's doing to me over the phone isn't bad. Enough? For one night, maybe. Bad? Not even close.
"Cariño... I want you to grab a pillow and put it between your thighs... rub yourself against it... pretend it's my cock rubbing against your sweet little pussy..." I whisper, completely drunk on what her voice, her moans, and my imagination are doing to me.
I hear rustling. Then muffled sounds. Like she's got the phone tucked against her shoulder. Like she needs both hands free. Like she's grinding her pussy against that pillow exactly the way I told her to.
And I can hear it. Or maybe I just think I can hear it.
At the very least, I can hear her moaning. Loud. Sweet. The same way she moans when I'm moving inside her.
Fuck. I want her. I want her so fucking badly.
"Javi... ahh... I... this feels so good... like you were..."
"Shhh, baby..." I murmur. "Take care of yourself... like I would."
For a while there's nothing but her moans coming through the line and my own rough groans as I squeeze my balls and try not to come too early.
But fuck. My whole body keeps jolting with pleasure. My cock feels like it's going to split open from wanting to be inside something.
"Javi..." Her voice comes through again. "Tell me... would you want me to suck your cock?"
Fuck.
"Would you want me to lick the tip... lick up every little drop... and take you so deep my lips would be brushing the base of your cock?" Her words break apart between moans. "And... fuck... you know how much you love that, Javi..." She's stopped trying to control herself. And somehow that only makes her sound hotter. Maybe that's exactly why she sounds so fucking hot.
"Cariño, fuck!" I press the head of my cock hard into my palm and squeeze. It's nothing compared to how it'd feel in her mouth. Or her pussy. But fuck. I'm wrecked. I don't have much longer.
"Javi, stroke it for me, please..." she whispers. "Like you're fucking me."
And after that… I don't remember much.
Just her moans. My own groans. The way my hand starts moving faster. The wet sounds coming from my own pleasure. The rustling from her side of the line as she moves faster and faster across the bed.
"Javi..." Her voice cracks. "I'm gonna... fuck... I'm gonna come..."
"Come for me, baby. Come for me. I want to hear you. I want that pussy coming just for me," I groan. "That's my good girl. You're so fucking beautiful when you come..." Fuck. I know I'm not gonna last much longer.
And then she's gone. Moaning. Crying out. Completely losing control. And I know her pussy is clenching around nothing while her orgasm tears through her. I know she's soaking wet. I know she's grinding her hips up wildly.
And it's that image, more than anything, that finally pushes me over the edge. My cock starts twitching violently. Heat surges up from my balls. I stroke myself once. Twice. And then I come with a loud groan. "Fuck, baby..."
Drops of cum land on my shirt. My tie. I don't give a shit.
I was planning on wearing that damn tie tomorrow too, and now I definitely can't because there's cum all over the fucking thing. Jesus fucking Christ.
My cock pulses hard as I ride it out, squeezing it in my fist the same way I'd be buried inside her tight pussy while it clenches around me.
After a few minutes… "Javi?" Her voice sounds distant. Tired. Satisfied.
"Yeah, baby?" I breathe out and finally let go of my cock. Half-soft, it drops against my stomach while I'm sunk deep into the couch.
"That was... wow."
I let out a tired laugh. "Hmm. You trying to tell me a pillow is better than me?"
She laughs. "No." A pause. "I'm saying the combination of your voice, my imagination, and what you're capable of doing to me over the phone should probably be illegal, agent Peña."
I smirk. "Hmm... I don't think either of us gets to complain, cariño." I reach for a cigarette and light it. Fuck. That was really good. Way better than I expected.
"So..." she teases. "My work trips aren't going to torture you quite as much anymore?"
I roll my eyes and take a drag. A cigarette after sex, even phone sex, is the best thing in the world right after the sex itself. I swear. "No." I chuckle and blow smoke toward the ceiling. "I still prefer having you here. With me. Under me. On top of me..."
"Hey, you pervert..." she laughs. "You're awful!"
"And you still love me." I say it like it's nothing and take another drag.
"Hmm... I do." Silence settles between us. "I wish you were here, Javi."
That one hits me right in the chest. Because yeah. I'd rather have her here too. Curled up against me. Warm. Satisfied. Perfect. Her soft skin against mine while we fell asleep together. Me wrapped around her. Her tucked against my chest. "Tomorrow at this time we'll be together again, baby." I tell her without letting her hear how fucking much I'm looking forward to it.
"Okay."
"Okay."
"So... goodnight, Javi," she whispers.
"Goodnight, mi amor."
The line goes dead.
I finish my cigarette, crush it into the ashtray, and run both hands through my hair. And I already know that tomorrow… tomorrow we'll make up for tonight.
But the biggest thing I know? I'm not looking forward to seeing her just because of the sex. It's because this apartment is so fucking quiet without her. And so is my life.
im thinking of jack waking reader up with sex?? or like taking care of reader when they start getting subby during rough sex?? 🗣️
also your writing is actually insane thank you for your service 🫡🫡
omg yes to both. idk how this got so filthy im sorry
perv!bf!jack abbot x fem!reader.
18+ MDNI! | content warnings: daddy kink, use of little one and eventually dada, DUBCON, somno (? he wakes reader up by groping them), a little name calling and a little praise, jack gets mean and rough for a second, a singular spank
but jack would wake you up with sex that pervy old man :( gets home from his night shift at like 8am and you're still tucked in his sheets all warm and cozy. the perfect prize at the end of a hard shift.
before he can stop himself, one of his hands is sliding under the hem of your shirt to grip at bare skin.
"little one," he murmurs gruffly into your ear. "wake up for me."
"mmmn— jack?" you stir with a whine.
"yeah, 's just me, baby. daddy's home." he kisses and gropes you for a while, stealing your heat while you whine and gasp under him: "wanna take care a'you. 'm all cold, warm me up, pretty one."
you're immediately fussy and grumpy at being woken up just to be pawed at. "nooo," you grumble.
he hums with amusement at that whining, the way you sound all groggy and bitchy and adorable. he knows you can get cranky when he wakes you up so early, but he can't resist the urge to rile you up right now. he squeezes the bare skin of your side, the one that he knows is a little ticklish. "come on, princess, wake up for daddy."
"whyyy?" you whine, burying your face in his neck as your legs kick in frustration.
"'cause daddy said so," he rumbles against your ear before nipping gently at the shell of it with his teeth. "he wants your sweet pussy right now."
"why now?" you whine again, petulant and overtired as you writhe in his arms.
"because i've been waiting for this all night," he seethes, his patience with your protests growing thin. his hand drags up to pinch at the soft curve of your ass through the fabric of your panties before adding gruffly: "... and 'cause i know my little one likes it when her daddy tells her what to do."
and it's true. you can't really deny that at all, that you're loving this as much as he is. "... okay," you acquiesce limply.
"good girl," jack practically growls, triumphant and impatient, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties and yanking them down your thighs. "that wasn't so hard now, was it? bein' all bitchy for no reason, lemme show you what i want." his palm smacks against your bare ass once, making you yelp, before sliding between your thighs with a deep groan.
"goddamn," he mutters as his thumb drags between your dripping folds, the wet squelch louder somehow in the dim room. "why the fuck were you bein' such a brat n puttin' up a fight? you're beggin' for me."
"daddy," you whine, overstimulated already.
"yeah?" jack rasps, watching your face closely as he finds your clit with his thumb, rubbing slow circles over that sweet little spot. "you like it when daddy touches you like this? when i tease my angel 'til she's all messy and needy?"
you huff, kicking against the mattress in indignation. "i'm tired!"
your little kicks just make his grip on you tighten. "yeah, you're tired," he agrees as the edge in his voice darkens into a hypnotic command. "but you're gonna be a good girl and make daddy feel good right now. okay, baby?"
you huff again irritably, feeling a protest form in your throat. jack knows that sound, the way your shoulders tense as you get frustrated, the way your pretty little mouth starts to pout out into a sulk. his hand tightens on your hip.
"hey," he snaps, his tone suddenly rougher, more authoritative. "i asked you a question, little one. you gonna be a good girl for daddy and let him have that sweet pussy?"
"...yeah," you mumble back reluctantly, and that's enough for him. his thumb immediately drags down your slit and nudges at your fluttering cunt, just teasing, before sliding back up to your throbbing clit.
"there's my girl," he mutters as he feels just how wet and sensitive you are for him. his other hand grips your chin to tilt your face up toward his. his gaze is dark, prideful. "now keep them pretty eyes on daddy while i make 'em leak."
jack loves the way you look at him with those wide eyes, all needy and submissive and obedient. he's obsessed with you. your hips begin to rock into his touch, and when you let out those soft, sleepy, shy moans of not daddy, but dada, he grins.
"you gonna make a mess for dada?" he coos, his thumb still circling your achy clit as his eyes burn into yours. he is so madly in love. he leans in close, his lips so close to yours that his breath brushes against your mouth as he speaks. "you gonna make dada proud, little one?"
your whole body shivers. he's making you feel so good that all you're capable of replying is a whimpered "mmmn..."
he lets out a huff of a breath that's almost a laugh as his thumb speeds up, mercifully bringing you closer to your orgasm.
"use your words, baby," he murmurs, the roughness gone from his voice, replaced by something more tender as your body start to shake. "tell dada if you're gonna make him proud."
"... m make you proud," you manage out through a soft gasp as he pushes you over that sweet edge and pleasure makes your vision white out.
Summary: Struggling to pay the bills, Joel finds a rather unique way to make ends meet.
Warnings: minors dni, smut, adult cam star! joel, masturbation, dirty talk, very descriptive male anatomy, male genitalia pronouns, usage of daddy but it's only mentioned once
Word count: 3.1k
A/N: It's been a while! I've had this one sitting in my drafts for such a long time and edited it so many times I've lost count (and I still don't quite like it). Life has been hectic, but things have finally slowed down so now I'm finally able to post it. Enjoy ♡
Divider by @kodaswrld
Ten minutes until showtime.
It was a Friday night and his trailer was quiet aside from the hum of his refrigerator and the distant whine of a truck down the highway. Joel sat on the edge of his bed, mattress springs groaning under his weight.
He rubbed his calloused palm over his stubble. Construction dirt was ingrained in his skin, under his nails. He'd taken a quick shower after work, but after so many years, it simply became a part of him, present no matter what he tried.
He shoved his laptop across the bed, the screen flickering to life. It illuminated his room— mostly unidentifiable clutter, such as a coffee mug and a pack of cigarettes that he swore he'd quit five times now. He never had.
The sight of the adult cam website greeted him. It was familiar by now, but the knot in his stomach it gave him never really went away.
Joel had started this a year ago. He'd been so desperate for cash at the time. Bills kept piling up week after week, while his construction work paid him less and less. He had to make ends meet, and fast.
He'd taken on normal jobs at first. A handyman, a janitor, a security guard. But he had to quit each job not long after starting them due to the incompatibility with his construction work schedule, and the fact they paid like shit.
Joel had been out of options. But one day, as he was reading a news article about how much the adult cam industry paid, he knew he had to give it at least a try.
He'd hated it at first. Something about having a bunch of strangers watch you jerk off made his skin crawl. He swore he'd never do it again, until he saw how much just half an hour had made him. And ever since, JM went live twice per week.
"Alright," Joel— or in this case, JM— muttered to himself. "Let's get this shit over with."
He adjusted his webcam, making sure it was low. Always showing just his chest and below. No face, that was his rule. The last thing he needed were people he knew in real life stumbling across him jerking it.
The angle framed the worn khaki flannel shirt he'd thrown on, unbuttoned just enough to show the patch of grey hair on his chest. He leaned back against a bunch of pillows, making himself comfortable. He wasn't young anymore and neither was his back.
The chat was empty for now. Truth to be told, he never quite read the chat besides donations. The more he read the things overly horny people threw at him, the less he wanted to keep doing this.
11:00 PM.
Joel hit the 'Go Live' button. The tiny red dot blinked, and a rush of adrenaline spiked his veins, cold and sharp.
The viewer count was zero for now. He took a breath, letting it out slow. He nervously scratched the fabric of his jeans, waiting for the first notification to roll in.
"Evenin' folks."
The viewer count jumped. Ten. Twenty. Fifty. Within a minute the room was packed, at least to Joel's standards. The chat rolled at such a fast pace the text became a blur of grey text and colorful usernames.
Joel leaned forward a little, making sure his face stayed out of frame.
It was easy money, he kept telling himself despite the way his heart hammered against his ribs. The numbers don't lie.
"Alright, alright," he rumbled, the microphone picking up his deep voice. "Settle down. Y'all are especially restless tonight."
He glanced at the donation section. A few were already dropping in; five, tens, twenties. A generous fifty from someone with the username SilverFox. That one alone would cover the electricity bill for the week.
Joel shifted, the denim of his jeans brushing the sheets beneath him. He took a quick look at the requests scrolling past.
Take off the shirt.
Show us your muscles.
Talk to us, daddy.
He let out a grunt, the sound low in his throat. His hand reached for the top button of his flannel shirt. His fingers felt rough, the skin dry as they fumbled with the tiny plastic disc.
"Patience," he said, voice dropping as he slipped into the persona they craved. He didn't rush, he never did. He made them wait. "We've got plenty of time."
He popped the first button. Then the second. The fabric parted slowly, revealing a sliver of his tanned, hairy chest and the white tank top he always wore underneath.
Joel leaned back, pushing his chest out. The camera captured the definition and width of his shoulders perfectly.
"See somethin' you like?" he asked, watching as the chat exploded in response. "Y'gotta speak up if you want somethin' more."
He let his hand linger on the third button, waiting for the next wave of donations to hit before he gave them what they all wanted.
The chime of incoming tips rang out like a damn slot machine payout. He didn't rush, as he knew the value of anticipation and the way the chat seemed to like it more if he took his sweet time.
He worked the rest of the buttons, letting the fabric fall open.
His flannel slid down his arm and landed on a heap on the floor next to him. The exposure made his skin cooler. The white cotton of his tank top clung to the damp heat of his skin, reading the scrolling text without really taking in the words.
More.
Take it off.
Joel hooked his fingers into the hem of the tank top. It was a tighter fit than his flannel was, hugging his broad shoulders and the slight softness of his middle. He pulled it upward, the friction dragging against his hair as he peeled it over his head.
His hair was a mess now, sticking up in tufts. Not that he cared or bothered to smooth it down— these people couldn't see his face anyway.
There was definition in his chest. His pecs, the ridge of his sternum. But it was all buried under a layer of lived-in softness. His stomach wasn't flat like it had once been. It rounded out slightly over the waistband of his jeans, proof of the cheap beer he liked to drink after a long day at work. Even so, beneath the softness were cords of muscle that came from hauling lumber and concrete since he was a teenager.
A thick dusting of salt-and-pepper hair covered his chest, narrowing into a thinner line that eventually disappeared into his jeans.
Joel leaned back, stretching his arms over his head. He flexed his muscles, watching as the comments flood in. Praise for his dad bod, the hair, the bulk. He never would've thought his aging body would attract any kind of attention on this website, but he had been wrong. It was paying off.
"Y'all likin' the view?" he asked, voice low. He ran his hand through the hair on his chest, scratching his nails against his skin. "Been a long day. Still got some dust on me from work."
Glancing at the donation goal, he saw it was inching closer and closer to the mark for the 'main event' to begin.
"Who wants to see what's under this denim?" he growled, fingers dropping to his belt buckle. The metal clinked loudly in the otherwise silent room. "Y'know the drill."
The banner flashed across the top of the screen seconds later, a bright gold: goal reached. The cheerful chime that accompanied the banner felt absurdly out of place.
Joel let out a huff of air through his nose. "There we go," he murmured. "Knew you folks would come through."
He shifted his weight, bringing his hands to his waist. The belt was a heavy, worn thing, a thick leather that had definitely seen better days, cracked and chipped in places.
He worked the buckle with ease, the metal clack loud in the room. He didn't pull it out of the loops, instead just letting the ends hang loose, the tension around his midsection vanishing.
Next came the button. It was tight— these jeans were his oldest work pair and he hadn't bothered to buy new ones in a while. It still fit and it wasn't torn, so he saw no reason to replace them.
He popped the snap, the relief immediate. Soon after that the zipper followed, teeth parting slowly with a low rasp.
Joel spread his thighs wider to fill the camera angle. The denim fell open, revealing the front of his boxers— grey cotton, definitely way too thin. The outline of him was clear, a heavy, resting weight that pressed against the fabric.
He didn't take his jeans off, though. Not yet. He liked the tease, the way the denim would frame his hips. So instead he brought his right hand to his crotch, cupping the entire bulge in his palm. It was warm, heavy. Promising.
"Well, look at that," he grunted, voice dropping even lower. He squeezed, digging his fingers into the flesh, feeling the blood start to pool, the familiar heavy throb of waking up. "That's what yer payin' for, ain't it?"
He kneaded the fabric, thumb brushing over the head still trapped inside the cotton. He felt the twitch, the way his hips jerked involuntarily against the friction. He tried not to focus on the chat too much, finding it easier to get aroused that way.
Joel rubbed his hand up and down the length, the knot of arousal tighter in his gut. The cotton dragged over the sensitive skin, coaxing him to full hardness to fill the space.
"Gettin' there," he muttered, half to the audience, half to himself. He squeezed the base, groaning softly as the pressure built. "Just gotta warm him up."
He lifted his hips, the effort making his breath hitch audibly. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers, dragging the grey cotton down over the curve of his ass.
He didn't take these off either; simply pushed the bundle of denim and cotton down until they bunched around his upper thighs.
Gravity did the rest.
His cock sprang free, slapping heavily against his lower abdomen with a fleshy sound. He was impressive, not pretty in the usual sense but rather long and thick, the shaft a flushed red color that stood out against the tan of his stomach.
He was manly. His foreskin a puckered hood that still half-concealed his tip, glistening where a bead of fluid was gathering, shaft slightly curved upwards and with a dense patch of salt-and-pepper hair curled at the base of it all, thick and unkept. His balls hung low, heavy and full, settling onto the denim bunched beneath him.
Joel looked down at it, a low rumble vibrating in his chest.
"There he is," he muttered, voice thick. He wrapped his right hand around the shaft, fingers barely meeting around the girth despite his large hands. He squeezed, hard enough to make the head flare and push fully out of the foreskin, shiny crown emerging red and angry.
"Big enough for y'all?"
He gave himself a slow stroke, pulling the skin down to the root and letting it slide back up slowly, friction wet and audible.
"He's hungry tonight."
He shifted his legs wider, planting his feet on the mattress. He angled his hips up to give the camera a better angle of what he was working with between his legs. The chat was a blur of praise and desire, but he tried not to pay too much attention.
"Alright," he grunted, spitting into his right palm to slick up his length. "Let's get to work."
The rhythm he set initially was heavy, a friction that nearly bordered on too tight. Joel never went for light, teasing touches; instead gripping the shaft like it he was holding a jackhammer, palm calloused against the slickness of his skin.
"Shit," he grunted, the sound tearing from his throat as his fist hit the base. His hips lifted up, a thrust that drove his cock upward through the tight circle of his fingers.
He settled back down only to drive up again, meeting his own strokes halfway. The wet slap of skin and his breathing were the only sounds in the room.
The head emerged from his foreskin, redder and angrier each time with each stroke up, leaking a stream of pre-come that slicked his grip.
"Look at 'im," he growled. "Look how damn hard he is for ya."
His left hand drifted lower, away from his shaft and instead towards the heavy sack beneath. He cupped the weight of his balls, rolling them between his thick fingers, tugging them down away from his body. His breath hitched at the sensation, a sharp intake of air that whistled through his teeth.
"Fuck," he hissed, accent thickening. "Tha'ss it."
The pace increased, just a fraction. Joel could feel the heat coiling in his spine. The chat was scrolling too fast to read, but the money kept pouring in, and it motivated him to keep going.
"Yeah, y'want this, don'tcha?" he rasped to no one in particular, voice dropping to a whisper. He squeezed the base hard, cutting off blood flow slightly, making the head swell purple.
"Wanna make this big ol' cock spill for ya."
He leaned his head back against the pillows, exposing the thick cords of his neck to the camera, face just out of frame. "Gon' make a mess soon," he muttered, slurring. "Gon' cover everythin'."
The sound of his fist jerking off his cock was loud and obscene, filling the small room. His breathing had turned into a ragged noise, chest heaving as he worked himself up and down the rigid shaft. He fucked up into his own hand, driving his hips up off the bed with every downward plunge of his wrist.
"Jesus," Joel gritted out, head falling back. "He's so fuckin' wet."
Pre-come leaked from him in a steady stream, pouring over the swollen tip and slicking his palm until his hand was just a blur of motion. It was dripping down his knuckles, matting the hair at the base.
"Look at that," he growled. He stopped for a fraction of a second to pull the foreskin all the way back, exposing the glossy, now purple head to the camera.
"Look at 'im. Swollen as a damn tick."
He wrapped his hand back around it, squeezing tight, forcing another drop of pre-come from the slit.
"Yeah, y'want this," Joel spat. He was sweating now, beads of it rolling down his temples and tracking through the hair on his chest. "Y'wanna see me empty these?" His left hand squeezed his balls.
He picked up the pace, the wet slap of his sack against his thighs audible even over the sound of him fisting his cock. He was utterly hard now, the curve of his stiff cock rigid. At his age it took him longer to get like this, but when he got there, it was worth it.
"Gon' make it hurt," he rasped, hips bucking erratically. He roughly tugged on his balls with his left hand, pulling them away from his body to delay his release, groaning at the jolt of both pleasure and pain it earned him.
"Gonna milk every last drop outta him."
Joel grunted, a deep sound that bordered on animalistic. His eyes squeezed shut for a moment— not that the audience could tell— as he got lost in the friction of his own fist.
"Talk to me," he demanded, babbling more than that he actually meant it. "Tell daddy how bad you need it."
The coil in his gut snapped tight, pulled to a breaking point.
"Yeah, fuck—!"
Joel's hips jackknifed off the bed, abs crunching hard as the first wave of his release hit him. It was an explosion, his hand moving as if on autopilot, jerking his shaft hard and fast, dragging the pleasure out of him by force.
"God damn—"
The first shot was a heavy, pearly white rope that arced through the air, landing with a wet splat on his upper chest, right in the center of his salt-and-pepper hair. He couldn't stop. His hand kept squeezing, demanding more of himself.
"Fuck! Take it, fuckin' take it..."
Another spurt followed, this time painting a line onto the soft curve of his belly, pooling in his navel. It felt hot against his cooling skin.
Joel grunted again, a deep sound that vibrated through his body, his head thrown so far back that his muscles strained.
"Yeah... Fuck yeah..."
The intensity evened out, cock pulsing in his grip, spilling a messy flood that dribbled over his calloused knuckles, dripping down his shaft and eventually matting the pubic hair at the base.
His strokes slowed, fist milking the last few drops out, breathing ragged. He looked down at himself through lidded eyes, sweat dripping down his temple to mix with the mess he'd made at his collarbone.
"Look at that," he breathed. His voice was wrecked, barely even above a whisper. He slowly released his grip, hand falling away to rest on his thigh, strings of come stretching between his fingers before snapping. "Fuckin' drowned me."
Joel sat there for just a moment, staring down at the screen through half-lidded eyes the audience could not see. The post-nut clarity hit him like a wave, as it did each and every time he did this. The adrenaline faded fast, leaving him with just the sticky, cool reality.
The mess on his stomach was cooling rapidly, turning tacky and uncomfortable. Joel stared at the chat, a waterfall of praise, heart emojis and a whole bunch of words in caps-lock. It meant very little to him beyond the numbers that would appear in his bank account soon.
He couldn't help but laugh at himself internally. Fifty-six years old and jackin' it on the internet.
A pang of vulnerability shot through him that made Joel want to pull the plug and call it a night. But he hid it, wanting these people to return next time.
He tilted his chin down, allowing just his stubble and a forced smirk onto the screen.
"Alright, that's all she wrote, folks," he drawled, voice slowly regaining its strength, though slightly more tired. "Y'all drained me tonight."
His eyes glanced at the top donation. "Appreciate y'all, as always."
Joel leaned back, stretching his arms wide one last time, showing off the sticky mess one last time.
"JM signing off. Go do somethin' productive with yerselves."
The red light died, screen going black. The silence of his trailer rushed in again accompanied by the hum of his refrigerator.
toy flesh [explicit 18+] — [part 2] follow up to part 1 which is linked in my masterlist. this is lots of cute fluff, next part will get down to more filth. there are tons of nasty opportunities
. . .
She also thinks it somehow has to be a one off thing. A pricey, fancy one off toy that fakes a few cumshots after the first time she cleans and rides it, flooding this pool inside of her and all over her bedsheets. But there it goes again, and again, and again.
Topping her third round off by falling backwards near the headboard, new toy gripped tight into her palm while she slides it in and out to still feel full but finally give her hips a break. It was worth every penny, as ridiculous as the amount really was for a hole in the wall sex toy shop. A lot of the others looked sparkly and lengthy and quite pretty, but something about the girth and the hefty weight of the last (or the only?) one in stock on the shelf made her rush to grab it before anyone else could have.
After paying the man at the counter she keeps scoping out her surroundings for any prying eyes as she’s trying to sneak her giant new purchase, stuffing the box into her purse as best she can. It would be dishonest to say she didn’t rush to rip it out of the plastic, feel out the raw feel of the skin, the veins, the fat. It felt real. Unlike any other rubber playthings she’s bought in the past, this one was almost responsive to her touch somehow. Did it require batteries to act like that? To pulse when it feels her grip, or leak when she teased herself on the tip?
It would jump every time she spat on the head and rubbed the base up and down in a firm grip. Pre cumming right at the tip when she did her favorite forms of foreplay and fooled around with it like she’s playing pretend. It throbbed, it wiggled around, and most of all it fucking came. Like a man.
In warm, sudden bursts, she felt it oozing out while she was just getting started. As heaven sent as it felt in the moment, afterwards it made her furrow her brows and grab the toy again and even look down at her own pussy to ensure she wasn’t feeling things that weren’t really there. But lo and behold, it dripped down her inner thighs, slathering her blanket and oozing right out of the tip of the dildo.
It felt like magic. Like her new rubber cock was attached to a real living person — a needy, sensitive, girthy person hung like a horse that didn’t take a lot of teasing or effort to draw so much arousal out of. But the idea was silly, so much more nonsensical than the fact that it was probably nothing more than just an impressively built and nevertheless expensive toy with some kind of hidden wiring and technology that was capable of pulling off acting like a real living cock. Right?
She doesn’t bother questioning it after five or six rounds in one night over the Saturday of her last jobless weekend before the start of her new position the following Monday. It had done wonders for the stress in her body, the tense and worried state it was nearly permanently in. She’d gotten better at taking it all up to the hilt, stuffing it inside up to her stomach after taking an edible and throwing on whatever TV show could make decent background noise. She grins with her heavy lidded eyes falling closed while another load pumps inside her. The second one of the hour to be exact. That addicting feeling of her toy cock gradually just losing it, losing all control like her pussy did things that triggered this quick, heavy release.
She’ll hang around her home in nothing but her underwear and her robe, eating cookie dough ice cream straight out of the carton, higher than a dopey teenager stuck in her own element. It doesn’t take long for her to take her favorite toy and rut her clit against it until it got warm like some kind of horny genie lamp. And then like clockwork it fills up for her again like it’s getting hard, twitchy, and ready all just for her pleasure. In the very back of her head she thinks this thing is so real it could have the off chance of somehow getting her pregnant since the cum had the consistency and the warmth of a real breathing person.
When Monday inevitably arrives, she gives up making sure every single hair stays in place and just parts it all to one side, buttoning up her favorite coat as armor against the unpredictable weather. As she strolled along the streets to her new work building, petting the dogs passing by on their owners’ leashes and twirling the cord of her headphones, she imagines what kind of office would hire someone like her. Blunt, casual, some neurological differences that make it difficult to focus if the topic didn’t interest her. Virtually no prior experience in the field she’s been hired in. It didn’t feel real getting the call back to learn she’d been selected, but who the hell was she to call them stupid for picking her of all the candidates?
The hustle and bustle was apparent as soon as she entered the building, asking around with wide eyes where her section was, what floor was she supposed to go to. Everyone looked busy but remained patient and kind, directing her to her floor, telling her to find a tall, shaggy haired man by the name of Clark.
It wasn’t hard to seek him out of everybody else, large frame still evident even with his hunched over posture, diligently typing away on his computer. When he looks up she was struck to find that he was almost dangerously beautiful. Handsome, pretty, dorky, everything that had always baited her into making terrible decisions. Just by talking to him she could tell he had anxiety, stiff movements and facial expressions that had her wondering if he was nervous from the pressure of being in charge of a new hire, or if he was more specifically nervous about being around her in particular.
Clark is attentive and sweet, helpful and patient with her learning new things, getting used to the environment and what was to be the new routine. Picking up the mail, distributing the mail, transferring phone calls, helping Lois with office duties and finding supplies with low stock to re-order. Certain areas felt overwhelming but overall the job itself seemed mundane. The only thing sticking out to her was Clark and his antsy eyes and big arms, anxious ticks and shy smiles. How he bent over backwards to help her with just about every question thrown his way or another way, making himself of use to her in any way she may have needed.
On her smoke break she feels the rain start to pour within seconds of going outside, and although she’s walked through rain and shine plenty it was still a bit of a test to see how far Clark would actually go if she’d asked to take her home. And he was so eager, so easy. If she got to know him well enough and if they became comfortable enough, she could give him the nickname of being her own mister Yes Man. Yeah, of course I’ll take care of that for you. Yes, you don’t have to worry about that, I’ve got it. Yup, no worries. Yeah, I’ll get this going for you. He was so full of yes’s she almost wonders what the limit may be.
Throughout the day he reciprocates just about every glance, every minor, innocent brushing of arms and fingers and touches on each other’s shoulders, upper back, arms. He hands her a pen and she grazes his fingers entirely on purpose and doesn’t hide dragging the moment out. The more she does the more flustered he’s become.
When Jimmy meets her and shakes her hand, he pulls her aside to whisper in her ear that Clark is very, very single and she laughs so hard she snorts. And when Clark comes back from his lunch break wearing different trousers than he was before he left, she doesn’t attempt any subtlety at eyeing his new pants up and down and shrugging with a little knowing nod at what might’ve made him have to change. Clark makes up some half baked lie about spilling hot sauce on his other pair, and she nods enough to try convincing him she believes it.
After her training is done and the paperwork is filed and the day is finally, finally over she gets a nod from Clark across the room, tilting his head in the direction of the elevators with briefcase in hand. He nudged his glasses further up his face and sniffled, waving bye to staff and pressing the button to head down, holding the door open with an extended arm.
“Thanks so much again by the way,” she graciously squeezed the thick muscle of his upper arm as the elevator doors close. Clark’s turned bashfully red almost immediately, chin down at the ground pretending to look at his shoes.
“It’s nothing. I really wouldn’t want you um, getting all soaked out in the rain, that wouldn’t be right. I’m glad you felt safe enough to ask me.”
“Of course I did. You’ve been nothing but a big sweetheart. Seriously, if anyone’s intimidated by the height they could have one conversation with you and it’ll change their mind,” she laughs, meeting his wide eyes framed by his thick glasses. The elevators ding to alert they’ve arrived to their destined floor, Clark taking a second too long to process before shoving his arm back out to stop the doors from closing in on them again. His version of a curse word slips under his breath while he nearly drops his briefcase, clearly still tripping and stumbling his way out to the parking garage.
“Well I guess so. I’m not that tall. Maybe a little over average, but— I hope I’m not intimidating. Um, here, let’s go this way,” Clark awkwardly trails off, pointing to his little beat up blue vehicle parked way over in the corner. When he points it out she wonders how he even fits himself in there.
“Uh, usually I prop the drivers seat back for my legs. A little crammed but I’ve had her since I started driving. My Pa gifted me this, and she’s still been up and running good after all these years so I don’t really see a need for finding anything else.”
She nods her head and smiles, impressed. He doesn’t let her hand go even near the handle, ripping it open and holding it while she slides in and sets her bag down on the floor near her feet. “Wow. You know, that shows a ton of loyalty to keep one of these for years like you have. I like that.”
He sheepishly nods his head with curls moving on his forehead before gently closing the door and jogging over to the other side.
She takes in her surroundings, observing the little details. His hanging dog charm around the rearview mirror. Taking in all the neatness, the warm vanilla scented air fresheners. How the seat is propped back as far as it could possibly go to accommodate for his height. She notes how he kept himself a spare pair of glasses in one of the cupholders, another style than the ones he wore to the office. When he turns the car on, music began to boom through the speakers, jolting him with a twitch as he rushed to turn the volume all the way down, laughing through a string of apologies. She only giggles harder, clearly less upset than he was, more amused if anything.
Each mundane little thing about Clark piled more on to this growing irresistible urge to just make the plunge already, to crawl in his lap, to kiss him so hard his glasses get crooked and eventually fall right off his face. It became more tempting with each passing glance from the side, every accidental brush of her thigh with his hand while he shifted gears, a murmured apology with those signature pink cheeks. He always looked so embarrassed, and it somehow always served to really turn her on.
“Uh, so I’ll turn here right?”
“Yeah. Yeah just, just turn then you’ll go straight for a while. I’ll let you know when we’re approaching.”
Clark follows directions, going about five miles below the speed limit as he keeps his eyes on each house passing by, curiously wondering which one could be her home. Was it the well groomed, modern style with a picket fence, or an old school, overgrown lawn with an artsy mailbox?
He slows down more as the end of the street was coming, pulling off to the side as she pointed out her home. Clark forgets to hide how eager he is to scope it out, the little pink painted one story home with healthy plants branching out from their pots on the porch, the lady bug mat, the absence of any cars parked out front. Figures she must only get around anywhere on foot.
Rain still patters on the windshield as his windshield wipers barely keep up in time from the heavy drops, and puddles outside forming in the potholes of the road. Her plants looked to be the only happy ones to have some rain to quench them.
“This is me right here,” she reluctantly says, a sigh leaving her throat while she peers back over to the man in the driver’s seat. “I had fun, says a lot for a first day at a new job. Those are always pretty stressful but you’re such a great teacher that I know I’ll be in good hands,” she says, rubbing the lipgloss leftover on her lips together while eyeing him up and down, back and forth between his pretty face and his robust chest.
“I… I’m not that good, you just made it easy,” he disputes. “You asked all the right questions, you’re smart. I know you’ll get the hang of it real soon—“
“—You know, when I met Jimmy today he told me you were single,” she interjects before her mind could steer her away from the risky decision. “So was he… was he joking or was he—“
Clark groans loud, making a fist and then nearly slamming his forehead into it to hide his face, mortified that Jimmy set him up like this. To have this awkward interaction with his now co-worker.
“Gosh…. of course he did… that’s— no. I’m sorry he was acting inappropriate—“
“No as in you’re not single.”
Clark pulls his head back up, blinks, utterly confused.
“No, no I’m—“
“No as in yes?”
“N-No, no as in he’s right. I… I am, it’s just I didn’t want him disclosing stuff like that that to you, that information. Like as if you’d even care if a co-worker is single or not is ridiculous. If he makes you uncomfortable again I can talk to him, it doesn’t have to be a whole HR thing but if you want it to be I can absolutely help…”
She chews her bottom lip to prevent another shit eating grin from spreading onto her cheeks, placing a deliberate hand back on his upper arm to nab his attention, soothe any of his sudden woes.
“Listen, stop. Listen to me Clark. I was asking to clarify it with you because I was hoping that he was right,” she admits, a soft laugh not far behind the end of her small confession, trailing off with a rub of his shoulder, making him hold his breath and keen from the contact.
“You um. So you aren’t freaked out, you aren’t uncomfortable in any way? I just can’t imagine what it’s like, being a… a woman. A beautiful woman you know, like you, in a new workplace and having men be obnoxious on top of that—“
Clark stutters and takes a breather, shutting his car off and tilting his head up so his neck is exposed, blankly looking up at the ceiling.
“Clark.”
“Yeah?”
He doesn’t look back down or turn his head, Adam’s apple of his throat bobbing as he swallows more nerves down.
“I’m not uncomfortable. Not freaked out. And if you want me to just get my stuff and go, not mention any of this tomorrow, then I could,” she starts. Clark takes a deep breath in like he wants to interrupt, but she holds a finger up and he obeys, shutting his mouth closed. “Or,” she began. “I could kiss you for being so sweet, and we can act normal tomorrow, but you can give me another ride home if you aren’t busy again. And we can see where this goes.”
The drop of his jaw was nearly out of a cartoon, heartbeat throbbing so fast it might as well be audible in the quiet of the small space of his car. He can’t take his eyes off her, blinking ever so slightly when his eyes start to dry up. It looked like he wanted to pinch himself just to make sure everything was real.
“I… I really like the second option more. A lot.” he finally mutters. Licks his lips while staring down at hers like he had countless times today, this time with layers of restraint stripped away.
“I like the second option more too,” she chuckles at his dumbstruck face, soothing a palm over his thigh and rubbing his flexed muscles through his trousers. “I also noticed you changed your pants after lunch.”
Clark swallows while her face comes closer, nearly nose to nose, sharing and exchanging breath.
“Uh, yeah, yeah I….”
“That story about spilling some hot sauce was bullshit, right?”
Clark nods without a second thought, confirming everything she already knew.
“Did you have a little too much fun? Make too much a mess, had to end up changing before you got back to the office?”
“Yeah, yeah I did,” he bows his head down a bit, licking his lips again. Still close enough to smell her perfume, to stare at the glittery shine of her lipgloss, begging to know what it tastes like.
“I thought so.”
Clark doesn’t get another moment to think or conjure up a response before she’s leaning in and he’s dreamily shutting his eyes, humming into her mouth while she tilts her head to the side. Her nails splay out across his neck while he whimpers in her mouth, trying to keep up and savor the exquisite taste of her while he can. With plenty of hesitation trying to hold him back, he goes for it anyway and takes his own palm to the middle of her back, hugging her close to him while they kept making out like it wasn’t any different than coming home after years of being away.
“You’re really pretty, makes it really hard,” he pants. Pulls away but not too far, lips still brushing hers as he speaks.
She laughs right at him, tucking a curl behind his ear and adjusting his glasses so they’re straight again on his face. “Apt word choice there.”
“No! No I mean, that’s not what I meant….”
“As much as embarrassment looks cute on you, you don’t have to be,” she assures with another giddy laugh, kissing his cheek and leaving a subtle glossy mark on the skin. Then aims for each corner of his lips only to be pulled back in by him to get the heated momentum back up and running.
“You’re unbelievable,” he breathes. “I want to just… I wanna keep going forever.”
Shit, is he talking too much too soon?
“I mean you don’t have to, really, you can head home whenever you like… I only meant I like this a lot.”
She doesn’t let his overthinking become worse, just grabbing him by the collar and kissing him again. Adding tongue swirls into the mix.
“You taste like your Spearmint gum,” she observes. “Really nice.”
“I’m glad you like it,” Clark nods, his meek persona still in full swing even after having her tongue in his mouth. “You’d tell me if my breath was bad, right?”
“Of course I would.”
The pair still kept exploring each other’s kissing techniques, her hands stroking his arms and his chest while Clark’s stayed on the middle of her back in easy circles. It could’ve been ten, fifteen, even twenty minutes passing by while the rain hardly lightens up from pouring out from the gray clouds scattered in the sky. Clark offers to walk her up to the door so she could get home safe and dry, and she couldn’t pass up the offer, even if he kept reassuring her he didn’t mean to allude to any funny business. He takes off his own jacket to hover it over her head as they make the short trip, insisting he does it as to not get her hair wet.
“I like your plants, your place is cute. I can pick you up and take you home tomorrow if you’re up for that.”
She grins and gets up on her tippy toes to kiss him once again, an innocent little smooch he graciously accepts and reciprocates.
“And how about the day after that, and then the day after that, and the next week after that…”
Clark laughs at her and puts his jacket he’d been using to shield her from getting doused by the rain, squeezing her hip with another smile and going back in for yet another because it was too good to pass up.
“Absolutely. Rain or shine, I’ve got you.”
“Great. I’ll see you tomorrow then. Bright and early. Do you have my number? Wait, hold on,” she unzips her purse and shuffles through it before finding her keys, unlocking the door and barging inside. Clark remains respectfully at the doormat, not willing to push any boundary this early, besides a car makeout here and there. He watches her in blissful astonishment as she scribbles on a piece of paper, folds it up then marches back to put it in his front pocket herself.
“For emergencies. And you know, anything else.”
Anything, she says. Anything else. “Right. Yeah. I’ll text you.”
“Please do. And text me when you’re home safe!”
“I will,” he chuckles, leaning his head back down to steal another goodbye kiss before he walks back to his car with a pep in his step that he hasn’t had in a long, long time.
“Bye!”
She waves from her porch before he chastises her to get back to her house so she doesn’t stay in the rain, but she just sticks her tongue out at him then goes back anyway.
It all felt intoxicating. He wondered if he could even drive in such a distracted, head in the clouds state like this.
His gut fluttered with butterflies and his cheeks hurt from smiling so much, back on autopilot as he starts up the car, blasts the volume back up and turns back to the main road. It felt overwhelmingly unreal that he can still taste her lip gloss and how much it’s rubbed off on him. How he can still feel the ghost of her hands touching and caressing parts of him that haven’t been touched and felt like that. He has stars floating above his head like he’d been knocked the fuck out, unconscious.
Just as he’s venturing back to the street towards his place, his dick starts to feel wet against his left thigh. Still trapped by his boxers and his trousers, that same familiar sensation creeping back up on him before he could press the gas after a red light turns green. He clenches his jaw and tries to stay concentrated with tight hands on the wheel. Gasping when his dick starts tingling as he’s teased and rutted on by that same mysterious force, gliding him in between their lips, teasing their opening with his tip.
Clark barely makes it home and sticks his face in the steering wheel, licking his lips, breathing with his mouth stuck open. He feels when it goes inside, how the thrusts are long and filling and slow at first, excruciatingly wonderful as it’s taking him in down to his balls. Drenching him down with wet arousal on every pull out. His full body shivers again, butts his head against the wheel five times before accidentally bumping the horn.
Mortified with horror, he ducks his head down as much as he could and peaked around to catch only a few witnesses of his neighbors taking out their trash bins out on the curb. He awkwardly waves and subtly grabs onto his bulge through his trousers, dampness seeping through the fabric. With a braced huff, he counts to ten to enjoy the warm embrace before he’s exiting his vehicle, slamming the door and not bothering to fix his floppy hair before snatching his briefcase from the backseat, covering his crotch from the world and jogging to his door, soft rain still falling from above.
When he makes it inside he throws his belongings to the ground, rushes his clothes off akin to how he did on his lunch break earlier. As naked as he was born with those glasses still on, he lies back on the couch and clenches his jaw, absently thrusting up into the unknown heat. Feels the heat react with more tight clenches, taking his breath away. He closes his eyes and hugs a pillow to his abdomen while he pictures his new co-worker on top of him again, bouncing just like this wet heat on top of him right now. Wants her lipgloss to stick to his skin, wants to be engulfed in her hair, her perfume, her smile. Her laugh when she’s making fun of him.
Without any warning but the pit in his stomach squeezing and dropping, he cums like a fountain and it ripples out of him so fast it punches him into a straighter posture, all the sudden sitting up. He sees his own cum lathering his dick and his pubes, and he can distinguish the very moment she’s cumming not long later too.
After Clark lays there and chugs an old but full glass of water lying on his coffee table, he caught up to his breath as he tries to get himself together to draft up a text when he finds the energy to get up and pull that crumbled piece of paper out of his pant pocket.
With multiple tired, anxious tries of attempting to find some neutral ground between sounding caring and interested versus sounding desperate or obsessive, he takes a deep breath and presses send before he could talk his mind out of it.
Hey this is Clark. I made it back home safe awhile ago and forgot to let you know. Just wanna say I had fun and I’ll pick you up around 8:30 if that’s cool. Good night :)
Clark thinks of throwing his phone across the room to ignore the insecurities bubbling out of him. What else should I say. Was what I said too much. Will she even want to kiss me again? She said she’d tell me if my breath tasted bad. What if tomorrow things are different—
A text tone buzzed his couch cushion, phone screen lighting up. Surprised but delighted, he rips it back up off the couch and shoves it in his face to read carefully.
I probably had even more fun than you. Glad you’re home safe and I’ll see you tomorrow :) 8:30 sounds perfect Mr. Yes Man. I’ll be waiting out front for you, get good rest! goodnight!
Gobsmacked, he’s left re-reading the same words over and over and over until his eyes grew heavy and he knew time for bed was gonna have to be a little early tonight. He brushes his teeth, wishing he could keep the remnants of her lips on his mouth but knows he just has to wait until tomorrow for more kisses. With a hiss he scrubs his dick of the sloppy mess left thick and slathered on his entire lower half with a warm washcloth.
While he’s in bed he idly wonders what her nights looked like. If she spends them alone like Clark does. If she was more outgoing than him, had people over, went out more. If her life had more color on the pages than his. Dirtier thoughts naturally start to seep in after that, threatening to really take over the narrative he’s built in his mind. Does she touch herself nearly as much as he does? Can she cum multiple times if she’s coaxed? Does she take more charge or does she want him to take over? Or maybe she wanted both. He could do both.
Endless wonders still can’t help flooding his thoughts, so much so that they infiltrate his dream as he slowly drifts off to sleep. Dreaming of her on top of him, of playing with his tie before yanking on it to pull him around as she pleased. She got down further and nuzzled her cheek against his bulge through his office pants and took him out to lick it down like a lollipop was between his legs, even squeezing on him so good it hurt a little bit.
The dream ended with her on top and riding him, backwards cowgirl style, tight hold of his tie still in her fist. When he’s pulled out of his dream and awoken it’s around two in the morning, and somehow his dick had gotten just as wet and used in the night again, this time while he wasn’t even conscious. Clark thought he’d aged out of having any more dirty, raw, cum-in-his-pants type of wet dreams like these. He guessed that now after the day that he had and the girl that he met that everything was about to turn upside down.
. . .
thank you thank you to everyone who commented and reblogged and liked my first part im so happy you guys are enjoying its so fun reading everyone’s reactions :) i like the alternating POVs too for this between her + him
****(only able to fit 50 tags per post, I’ll make another one linked to this post so I can tag the rest!)
(partial) tag list: @7angel7spit7 @imsonotweird @fuhinn77-blog @sunflowers-and-rainy-days @astraea-and-her-novels @brains-2-beauty @theplaid-wearingmoose @navybluelover @kirbyisking99 @ifyouseethisnoyoudont22 @idontexistrightnow @caffeineaddicty @tinythebunni @contaminatedcupcake @klarkcentral @tragicgirl23 @carlandoxlestappen @thecheeseman27 @darker0moon221b @bad-wolf1991 @just-aliyah @iceyyycapsicle @rrosesandtears *rest of tag list will be in separate post linked to this one cause of the tag limit!
We are raising funds to help cover the costs of relocating from Idaho to Colorado. This move is an important step toward creating greater stability and new opportunities for our us.
The funds will be used for essential travel and moving expenses, including transportation, fuel, lodging during the trip if needed, food, and other relocation costs associated with getting settled in Colorado.
Any contribution, no matter the size, will help us move closer to our goal. If you’re unable to donate, sharing this fundraiser with others would mean a great deal to us.
Thank you for your support, encouragement, and kindness during this transition. Every donation and share helps us take another step toward a fresh start in Colorado.
Contains: smut, breeding kink, creampie, pregnancy, dirty talk, possessiveness, Joel likes to claim you, overstimulation, cum play, fingering, semi-public sex, multiple rounds, mentions of oral sex (m & f receiving), softdom!Joel, dom/sub dynamic, fluff, established relationship
Wordcount: 2,500
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Softdom!Joel loves to have you on your back, fully sprawled out and on display for him. He has access to everything; your pretty tits bouncing as he juts into you and pushes your head up the bed, your beautiful face he paws at and cradles, and your soft legs that sometimes sling around his hips and other times just lay stretched out away from you, especially toward the end of the sex when you are already exhausted.
Softdom!Joel cums inside you every single time. No exception. The two of you can have a quick fuck in the bathroom at Tommy's during his garden party, and he will still stuff you full of his seed and not let go until he has pumped every ounce of his cum into your walls. First and foremost, he does it because you love it just as much as he does, maybe even more. Which is why you get upset whenever Joel even just puts the idea of cumming anywhere else in the room. No, his seed belongs inside you. It's supposed to fill you up to the brim, stick to your wet walls and make your head just as messy as it does your insides. It's supposed to leak from your hole before Joel scoops it up with two fingers and shoves it right back in.
Softdom!Joel always takes good care of you after he fucks you. Not only are you in need of a special amount of love and tenderness once he has made the two of you climax, but there's also another much more primal, filthy reason for it: he has to ensure his cum is secure inside you. Most of the time, Joel lays you down, one hand playing with your mouth or your cheeks while his other is knuckles deep in your cunt. He keeps it there for a while, two fingers preventing his seed from escaping the place where it's meant to mix with your own arousal. And then he talks to you, whispering how well you took it, how much he loves to shoot his seed in you and how much he wishes you could see this for yourself. Only when he is certain his semen has coalesced with your body and become a part of you does he let go, either licking his fingers clean himself or feeding you his digits.
Softdom!Joel already thinks about knocking you up again, even though you have only just found out about your pregnancy. The two of you love the idea of your belly filling with his cum, with his child, because it's the perfect complement to his seed flooding your pussy every night. You, completely owned and claimed by him. And Joel doesn't even have to be cold or brutal about it. He just buries you underneath his weight, keeps one palm loosely brushing over the swell of your belly while his cock pursues his favorite activity in the world: fucking into you with the aim of cumming inside you. His other hand is wrapped around the side of your face, keeping your attention on him as he delivers slow, deep thrusts that make you think he intends to get you pregnant again, even though that's a biological impossibility. "I love you so much, babygirl," Joel murmurs quietly, and yet somehow he's still emitting a certain dominance and authority that is a divine addition to his sweet, protective nature. "You're mine… Every inch of you. And the evidence is growing in your belly as we speak." He parts your legs wider, treating you delicately, although his actions are marked with the knowledge that you were his to adjust and move around to his liking. "You're mine to mark with my cum, babygirl… Mine to knock up over and over… Gotta have my seed drip down your legs until there's so much I can't keep stuffing it back inside."
Softdom!Joel can barely keep it inside his pants with you around him. You don't exactly make it easy for him with your doll eyes and your hands that constantly seek his proximity. It's even worse now that you're pregnant. One time, Joel and you are over at Maria's for her birthday party. About halfway through the evening, you bring his hand to your stomach, look up at him through your lashes and whisper "I can't wait for you to fuck me later… I need to feel even fuller of you, Joel." That's all it takes. His restraint snaps, and Joel is on his feet dragging you inside. The bathroom is not ideal, but it serves its purpose. Since he is careful with you, his pretty princess, and doesn't want you in a position that brings you discomfort, he wants you to sit on the sink, but you insist on bending over instead. After all, you are in the second month of your pregnancy and still feel pretty strong in your body. Joel pounds into you from behind, a hand lying over your mouth because you can't keep silent, like always, after he turned you into a cockdrunk mess just by working his cock inside you. His lips are inches from your ear, softly nibbling at the lobe. "Good girl… You're squeezin' me so tight. Makes me think that this pussy is tryna tell me something…" "Yes," you pant at once, gasping as he grabs your breast tightly and loosens his grip on your mouth. "And what is that?" He is so fast, fuck, the other guests must hear the way his hips crash into yours. "I… I want you to cum inside." Later, you briefly regret that request. Very briefly. Joel has filled you up, of course, just like you desired it. The only problem is the creamy liquid running down your bare legs that are on display today with your short yellow summer dress. Eyeing you up and down, the corner of Joel's mouth ticks up, and the next thing you know, he is smiling at you widely. "Why don't you stay like that? Mhm?" "What do you mean?" you whisper, desperately glancing down your thigh to assess how long it would take to wipe it off. "You look nice. Mine." You're starting to understand. "You mean…" "Yeah. It's just another way of showing who you belong to, isn't it? Most won't even see it. And those who do… let 'em know. That you're off limits. They should know what we've been doing in here. They should know that my cum was too much for your pretty pussy, so it all dripped down your leg. Besides, it's what I want. Having you fucking covered in my cum." So that is exactly what happens, and you would be lying if you said that you don't enjoy it.
Softdom!Joel and you always find new positions for him to fuck you in. He has been even more feral and wild about it before your pregnancy. Nowadays, he enjoys missionary as it allows you to lay on your back comfortably and him to carefully jut his hips into you at his chosen pace. Before that, he was quite experimental about it, though. Aside from missionary, Joel's personal favorite had been doggy. That way, he got to crush his pelvis into your back, quickly driving his cock into you at the most perfect angle. The best part, without a doubt, was when he felt his orgasm bubbling within him. He would use all his force, shove you forward until you were flat beneath him and pump you full of his seed while you quivered and whimpered under him, experiencing your own high.
Softdom!Joel knows how much you enjoy taking him on your side. Your favorite place in the world is lying in front of him, being spooned by his strong, broad body, so naturally, you also like to take his cock in that position. Another favorite is you riding him, with Joel interrupting your rhythm the moment he is about to unleash the tension inside him. He plants his hands on your hips, grinds his teeth and holds you down on him while his cum fills you so deeply you feel like it's swamping your belly. "Take it, babygirl, that's it…" Joel grunts through clenched teeth, keeping you pressed against his center much longer than necessary. All you can do is whine and yelp, sweat dripping down from your forehead onto his. "Feel how deep I am? S'all me, sweetheart… Me fillin' that pretty pussy up. You're gonna have it everywhere, babygirl. You're gonna taste it in your mouth, gonna feel it for days. It's so deep in your body, honey, ain't nothin' I can do about it." And as Joel pushes you down further, his tip hitting your cervix in a way that makes you wince, you all but believe him.
Softdom!Joel sees it as his duty to claim your pussy from every single angle, in every way that is possible. To him, it's just another necessity. It's not just about pumping you full of his semen every single day, sometimes even twice, but also about ensuring that your cunt knows how to take his cum in all the different ways there are. Hence the variations in the positions and places he fucks you in. On the kitchen counter, in the shower, in an old broken car that stands beside his house, on the floor like two dirty animals, in a chair and sideways on the bed. At times, Joel is careful about doing it somewhere other than his home as he doesn't want to worry about his cum soiling whatever place it is, but usually the thrill of it all is worth it. Once he finds a new position to fuck you in, you are absolutely ravenous and keen about it, putting on your prettiest underwear and greeting him at the door when he comes home. Normally, Joel whispers it in your ear in the morning, telling you that he has something special in mind for you. It's a cruel thing to do to you as you are on your toes all day, but at the same time, it makes you so excited for the night that you feel giddy every second.
Softdom!Joel apologizes a million times whenever he doesn't cum inside you. It doesn't happen often, of course not. Filling you up is a given, something you don't even have to ask for at this point. But occasionally, he is unable to avoid it, for example when his cock doesn't work the way it's supposed to – he's not the youngest anymore – or when he spills inside your mouth by accident. Every time that happens, Joel quietly curses under his breath, cradles your head once you have swallowed and kisses your hairline before you can start complaining. "I'm sorry, baby, I'm sorry…" he then murmurs, getting down to your level. You determinedly wipe your mouth, eyes flashing at him and brow furrowed as though you were about to start crying any minute. "I wanted it inside me," you whine and clench your hands into fists. "I know, sweetheart… I'm sorry. You just feel too good, you know that? Your pretty mouth is so good, I couldn't help it… I'm sorry. I love you, okay?" Your features soften at his apologies, though you still feel anger flapping in your stomach. Right where his cum is supposed to paint your inner walls at that moment. Sure, his seed is filling you one way or the other. But you prefer it to be your vagina rather than your throat. Joel makes sure to make it up to you extensively. A mistake like that usually leads to him rewarding you with load after load of his creamy spend stuffing you full. He goes all night, lazily playing with your pussy while he waits for his cock to harden again. Then, he fills you up all over again until you tell him that it's enough and your pussy feels raw. At that point, the sheets beneath you are dirty and stained with his fluids, your thighs are glistening wet and your cunt is unable to swallow all of it, no matter how hard he tries to push it back inside you. You squeal and whimper, squirming on the bed and wriggling with your bruised hips, though you do it in the most content and satisfied way. After you're cleaned up, Joel lays beside you, a hand on your swollen belly, from the child he has fucked into you a couple of weeks ago or his cum, you are not exactly sure. He isn't either. "Look at you, baby… So full of me. Can't fit any more inside, m'sorry. I could've kept goin'… but your tiny pussy can't take it. S'all mine already. I already claimed every inch of you, you see?" You nod in understanding, putting a hand on top of his. "Sleep now, babygirl." You do, and somehow, it seems as though not just your body is owned by his seed but your mind as well. Because that's what you dream of all night long.
Softdom!Joel is proud to stroll through town with you, showing you off to the rest of the world like the proud owner of a prize only he can seize. He is highly possessive of you, so people noticing your baby bump or his brother spotting the kiss marks across your neck feeds into that side of him more than anything else. One of the best moments is after you have your first child, a girl Joel and you name Jane. It does not take more than two months until Joel and you sit around the dinner table with Tommy and Maria and your hand flies to your stomach again. "Well, we actually got a little announcement to make," your boyfriend speaks after clearing his throat. "We… We expect another child." The looks on Tommy and Maria's faces are priceless, their eyes wide with surprise. "Oh," Maria says, eyes scurrying between both of you. "So soon?" His eyes find you, lips curved in a gratified grin. "Yeah, well… Jane is so delightful." Of course, it's just half the truth. Sure, your daughter is an extraordinary creature, and Joel and you couldn't feel more blessed to give her a sibling just as wonderful as she is, but there is more to the story that is not meant for Tommy or Maria's ears. You can't stop asking Joel to fill you up now that you have given birth to your daughter. And Joel can't stop either. He is actually convinced that your belly is bulging with his cum every time he empties himself inside you, your hips so beautifully flinching while Joel pumps rope after rope of his creamy slick past your entrance. The two of you are obsessed with each other, and Joel couldn't feel any prouder of knocking you up so soon after Jane's birth. He smiles and squeezes your hand.
an: it’s been a long time since I wrote this guy, so go easy on me! this was just an idea I had this afternoon, so I wrote it down. dedicated to @intheorangebedroom — she’ll know why ❤️
—
The movie ended about an hour ago.
The screen went black, and then the TV turned off, and the room was left in a dusky, liminal space, where nothing held its true color, only variations on the color that you knew existed.
The stripes on the worn blanket you were sitting on, the colorful skulls that hung on the wall from an exhibition you saw last month, the art you had framed – it was all tinged in a greyish-blue that served as a holding space for the tension steadily rising between the two of you, from your spots on the couch.
You had met him at a café – a lone American sitting at the bar while the locals sat outside. Your elbow had bumped into his when you went inside to pay, and your apology had turned into a conversation, and then into an offer to meet up.
He – Francisco, as he introduced himself – was traveling for a few weeks, and in a show of courage that had you surprising yourself, you offered to be his guide.
Maybe it was the glint of interest in his eyes. Or maybe it was the hint of dark curls under his hat, ones that had you wondering how soft they were. Maybe it was the look on his face – first an assessing, intensely soulful look that pinned you in place, then a surprisingly vulnerable one that held you there.
Whatever it was, you offered and he accepted. Day trips had turned into night walks, had turned into this meeting at your place for a home-cooked meal, which had then turned into….this.
This aching space, where anything was possible.
This muted space, that was devoid of color but so rich in other things: in the low, gravely drag of his voice, in the heady, masculine scent of his skin, in the gentle caress of his fingers playing idly with yours.
Slumped together on your sofa, shoulder to shoulder, a low pitch of conversation is exchanged between you in the dark room. Your breath is shallow, your heart racing, your mind hoping – yet you sit still and let him play: his fingers sliding between yours, his thumb brushing over your skin, his touch tracing your knuckles.
He is so close you can feel him talking as well as hear it. So close you can smell a whiff of the detergent he uses.
Turning your head in reply to something he says, your warm breath mingles in the shared space between your mouths. His breathing seems just like yours, a cross between holding it in fear of breaking the moment, and taking sips just to breathe each other in.
The room around you is pregnant with intimacy, with the occasional street noise that drifts in on the wind, and in this aching quiet, his hand lifts to cup your jaw, the tension between your bodies swelling to new heights….
And then, he kisses you.
His mouth is tender, exploring. Weighted, firm. His lips press fully against yours, capturing you in place, fingertips brushing against the hinge of your jaw. Your mouth parts to invite him in, and he accepts with a slow slide of his tongue, tasting, tasting, tasting. The kiss deepens with a sigh, your body melting backwards to pull him on top of you and he follows your guidance, seeking out your closeness and your flavor, his hands beginning to wander, just like yours.
The comforting, solid weight of his body presses you into the couch, his hips finding a home between the cradle of your thighs. You kiss, and kiss. Lips sealing together, mouths opening wide, tongues sliding together to savor taste.
The room sees it all – a blank canvas for the bright bursting thing happening between you two. The thing that’s been there from the start, finally coming to fruition. Everything drips – the grey walls bathed in intimacy, the muted tones awash with arousal, the clinging cotton covering your core.
Your laps grind together, your aligned bodies melding as his strong arms wrap around you to hold you close, and your ankles hook over his lower back. Your fingers slide through his curls and they are exactly as soft as you thought they’d be, like slippery silk.
You give them a tug, and are rewarded with his lowest, neediest groan yet.
Weighted with want, rumbled into your open mouth.
The movie ended an hour and a half ago, and his form joins the dusky tones of the room when he kneels between your bare thighs, your jeans and panties hooked around one ankle while it’s his tongue this time that sparks and lights, washing your body in arousal so strong it hurts.
He delves deep, licks wide, flicks and swirls and laps.
With your back arched, he devours.
His broad back is reflected in the black screen of your TV, the filthy image of his grey t-shirt pulling tight between his shoulder blades in his hungry hunch, his dark curls tucked between your spread thighs. Your fingers curl to grasp at the blanket beneath you and you roll your hips into his hungry mouth until your moans break the weighted silence, joining the night sounds from outside.
He joins you on the couch after that, even though it’s not big enough for what he has in mind. It’s a two seater, a small thing, but he makes it work when he stretches out on top of you and smears your own wetness against your mouth with his searing kiss, and reaches between the press of your bodies to unbuckle his belt.
There are other people in your building – a neighbor whom you share a wall with, who you only hear on football match days. A woman beneath you, the shouts of her children heard sometimes through the vents. Still more in the floors beneath them, and in the streets outside, and in the expanse of the city as it spreads across the earth – yet your entire existence is reduced to this one room when he opens your mouth with his just as he slides forward to break you open with a filling, weighted grind.
Your teeth catch his lower lip when you whine underneath him, and you can tell he likes it, this confirmation that he’s a lot to take. He grins against your mouth – decadent and filthy, slightly cocky and mischievous – and begins to fuck you on your couch like he’s been planning it since day one, from that first meeting in the bar.
He fucks with intent, with purpose. With experience, with competence. But also just like that first meeting, his intensity gives way to something more base, something feral and open and vulnerable. Like he can’t help the need that pours out, or the way he seeks your warmth.
His hips rock forward, demanding you take him in your pinned place underneath his body. His strokes are a rolled grind that has you lifting yours to meet his, forcing him deeper as your nails dig into his lower back, holding on.
The room absorbs every filthy sound: the humid panting of breath, the needy, low moans, his grunts that match the rhythmic punch of his hips. Filthy confessions pour from his mouth – your pussy feels so good, I wanted to fuck you the first time we met, bet your mouth was made for me too, your fucking pussy is so tight I’m gonna cum, you’re going to make me cum.
Every piece of praise washes over the sensitive hollow beneath your ear.
It’s like rebirth, like baptism. Like your life was as muted and dull as the small room around you and he found you and tugged you into the bright bursting daylight, plunging you into a colored life of sensation, of aching desire, of feelings too strong to be real.
When he comes, you join him, a tear sliding from the corner of your eye.
The movie ended two hours ago, and dawn breaks on the horizon somewhere outside. It trickles in through your open window, a slice of barely illuminated gold.
Sated and spent, he lays on top of you and your fingers drift mindlessly through his damp roots, over his soft shirt, along the firm planes of his skin. It’s a tight fit, an uncomfortable one that you don’t mind, when he shifts his weight off you to tuck himself into the back of the couch, holding you close against him.
While he dozes, you stay awake.
Bird sounds replace the quiet, light illuminates the darkness. From your spot crushed against his chest, you watch his pulse beat under his skin, strong and steady. Leaning in, you inhale his scent from the place on his body drenched with it – the hollow of his throat.
Slowly, lightly, as light slips into the room and brings color with it, you brush your fingers over the freckles that dot his skin just above his collar. There is a cluster you’ve been obsessed with since you first saw him, and you find them, dusted across his skin.
Resting your mouth against them, you let your eyes close as you press a kiss that lingers.
A full press of your mouth — one that lingers, then stays, as you fall asleep.
I wanted to celebrate our little community with you. Which Pedro Pascal character is accompanying you as your spiritual protector or guide the upcoming week?
I made custom Lenormand-inspired edits for each result! Close your eyes, take a deep breath, and let your intuition guide you to your number.
Pick a number and reveal your spiritual guide! A little Lenormand-inspired quiz featuring Pedro Pascal characters to celebrate my followers,
Thanks for the tag @sawymredfox, @petalsinblood and @shadowqueen2024 ♥️
Wym, we got the same result, which I love 😌
Npt: @aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @mcthsman @baronessvonglitter @tateypots @joelmillerspnk @hanahleah @hauntedinkk @ess-evo @littledes1re @broad-shouldrs @peepawmiller and anyone who wants to play 🌸
Thank you for the tags, friends @kokoluwie @sawymredfox @shadowqueen2024 @time-for-my-weekly-spanking ♥️ Kudos to @fullmoonlovestuff for the awesome quiz! The result made me feel all warm and fuzzy🥰🥰
tags: 18+, age gap (20s/50s), only fans, read pt 1 here, handjob, oral (m receiving), doggy style, brief anal play, dirty talk, daddy kink, size kink, clit stimulation, porn filming, Joel and reader are in a committed relationship now, orgasm, creampie, upclose shots and Joel secretly enjoying making porn with you ;).
summary: since forming a committed relationship with Joel, you’ve retired scene partner porn and got a steady, more ordinary job in an office. You still post the occasional selfie on only fans or perform certain acts on yourself in livestreams. But this time, you ask Joel to join in on your live to spice things up.
3k words
“Can’t fuckin’ believe I’m actually doin’ this.” Joel mutters behind his hands that were currently pressed against his face.
You can’t help but chuckle at the sight of him. Your tripod was set up at the end of your bed, just the right angle to ensure it wouldn’t capture either of your faces. Not for you, it was your only fans, of course. But for Joel, considering the only condition he had for this whole livestream you had planned was that he didn’t show his face.
Since starting your relationship with Joel, you gradually pulled back from partner work in Porn, and completely stopped when the two of you became official. In fact, you’d decided on switching careers altogether. Not because Joel judged you for what you did — he never would. If you chose to continue doing Porn as your main career, he would respect that wholeheartedly. But it was actually you who made the decision to make a change.
You enrolled yourself in some courses to get some extra education under your belt and ended up landing a job working in an office. It was far less exciting than fucking for money, but it felt official. And, you no longer froze when someone asked about what your job was.
But, you still did some solo stuff on an only fans account you’d made.
It wasn’t really for fans, in fact, you didn’t even go by your old Porn name. And you definitely didn’t do custom videos. You just posted some sexy selfies, a video here and there and now, only recently, you’d started doing livestreams.
You’d actually built quite the community. The majority of your members were actually females, which instantly made you feel more comfortable. The comments from them felt more like actual compliments. They were uplifting and empowering. Not just the token “i would rail tf out of her,” or “great tits,” but genuine, personal compliments.
Which was why you’d brought it up with Joel — the idea of filming a livestream with him.
And initially, it was a hard no. In fact, it was a hard no before you’d even really explained any of it to him.
But when you’d sat on his lap and explained to him, maybe using your best pleading eyes, he’d said he’d think about it. Which then evolved to him laying back on the bed now, his meaty thighs spread apart and his dark green boxers tenting despite the awkwardness etched into his mannerisms.
You giggle again and climb onto the bed, crawling toward him. You were clad in a pair of lingerie, in fact, the exact ones you’d bought with him the day the two of you had your first time. You’d seen the way his eyes glimmered at the sight of you in the set while you were changing moments ago. How personal this set was in your relationship.
You straddle his hips, bringing your hands up to his own to remove them from his face. “Relax, baby. You’re gonna be super sexy, I promise. I’ve actually always wondered what we look like when we’re having sex.” You say thoughtfully, tilting your head to the side.
Joel flushes a little at that, hands hovering over your hips momentarily before finally settling on them, as if he forgot that he was actually allowed to touch you. “Really?” He asks a little sheepishly.
You nod your head and lean down to capture his lips in a quick yet soft kiss. “Of course. I mean.. it feels good, so I can only imagine it looks good.”
Joel nods, certainly agreeing with the feels good part. “Only one way to find out, I guess.”
You grin and crawl back towards the camera.
You sit between Joel’s legs, your back against his chest. Both of you now completely naked in front of the camera. Everything below the neck was visible on you both, per Joel’s request, and although you can’t see it in the reflection of the livestream, you can feel his head pressed into the back of your neck, the skin of his face hot.
People started joining the live one after another and before you knew it, a hundred people were already present. The first comments you read were remarking on the complete difference in size between you and Joel. How large he was compared to you. His biceps were large, his arms that were wrapped around your middle dwarfing you no matter what size or height you were. His hands were huge and one of them was splayed out against your stomach, feeling the soft skin there.
“Mmm, I think they like you, baby.” You hum to joel, tilting your head back to encourage him to read the comments. He follows your silent request and you hear him curse under his breath when he sees a particular comment.
“Omg I just knowww he’s hot. Can u suck his dick for us?” @_pillowprincesss asks enthusiastically and you giggle when you realise that it was the comment he had read.
You giggle and push your hips back into joel, your bare ass pushing against his cock. “Sounds like a great idea to me.” You reply playfully, twisting in his arms until you were facing him. You guide him to sit on the side of the bed, facing you as you get into position. Joel’s face is still out of frame but yours comes into it when you lay on your stomach to get closer to his crotch. You grin when you take a glance at your phone screen, the sight of Joel’s flushed chest and how good the two of your bodies looked making your thighs unbelievably sticky.
“You guys seem to like my man already,” you muse to your mostly female audience. Joel’s cock is hard and heavy between his thighs, but in his position, the camera isn’t actually able to capture it. “Just wait until you see his cock.” You finish, reaching over and tilting the camera to the side until Joel’s beautiful dick came into frame.
He’d trimmed his hair down there slightly just for the occasion, sweet thing. You may have helped him a little too, which was fun.
Joel groans when you take his cock into your hand, and you can tell the touch makes him forget about the audience with the lust that comes along with it. Making him finally speak for the first time since the livestream was turned on. “Fuck, Angel.” He grits, loud enough that the camera picked it up and it set the comments going crazy over his voice. And although the words were brief, it made your core swell with arousal.
You lick your lips and began to pepper soft kisses over his tip, your hand slowly beginning to stroke his length. Not enough to relieve much pressure though. “You think I should tease him a little, guys? Push his limits until he decides to put me in my place?” You ask the audience, starting to suck softly on his tip.
Joel makes a sound that sounds pretty close to a growl at the threat. His hand comes down to tangle in your hair, his short nails slightly digging into your scalp. You chuckle, locking eyes with him while you speak. “Huh. I don’t think he likes that idea.”
And at that you part your lips and take his cock into your mouth, his dick a pleasant weight on your tongue as you begin to slide your mouth down his shaft. You take him down to the root, your nose nuzzling his trimmed hair, and he lets out a long, desperate groan at the sensation of his cock in your throat.
You move your mouth side to side, gagging once, twice, before bringing yourself back up for air. You gasp and release a moan when you glance back up at him. “Fuck, Daddy.” You whimper, your eyes teary from retching.
Oh yeah. Daddy was a thing now.
You didn’t call him it often but agreed to it for the livestream since he also didn’t want his name in it. You could tell it only heightened his pleasure when he heard it come from your drooling mouth right now.
“Keep going. Use your tongue on my tip, sugar,” He orders lowly, and you feel a sense of pride at his confidence in speaking in front of the camera. When you take him inside of your mouth again, he wraps a couple strands of your hair around his fist. Not pulling, just holding. “Atta girl. Oh yeah, baby. That’s it.”
And his voice is a little whiny when he says it. It always gets like that when you suck his tip like this. Just the way he liked it. He was so fucking sensitive here, it drove you insane.
You close your eyes as you pleasure him. Relishing in the sounds of his moans. So much so, that it catches you off guard slightly when he reads the screen. “They want me to fuck you, baby. Think we should give them what they want?”
You pull off him with a whimper and smile giddily, nodding your head frantically.
The bed creaks with the force of Joel’s thrust. The continuous slam of his hips into your ass as he fucked himself into your g-spot perfectly from this angle. You were sprawled on your stomach in doggy style, your ass raised in the air to get him as deep as possible.
Your moans rattle through the bedroom, the insistent ping of comments flowing through the livestream a distant sound in your mind.
“Oh. My. God.” You moan, each word punctuated by a powerful thrust of Joel’s cock. Everything felt so overwhelming, every push of him inside you knocking the air from your lungs. The squelch of your cunt made your cheeks heat up, your arousal dripping down your thighs in a sticky mess.
“Tell them,” Joel orders, his voice gruff, his restraint wearing thin with how tight and warm and fucking perfect you felt around him. He’d recently found his voice properly, and the things he said, the dirty words he spoke to you while fucking you into next week had the people on the livestream going insane. “Tell them how much you love being on display for them while I fuck you.”
The words cut through you like a pleasant smack. You did love it. You loved being watched like this. Being someone for other people to get off to. But the fact that you were doing this with Joel now, that you were essentially inviting these strangers into your bedroom and sex life with your boyfriend, felt a little more personal.
And it just turned you on all the more.
You grip the sheets, the consistent pounding of his cock making it hard to focus on talking, on stringing a response together. You were so fucking cocky earlier while talking to the camera, sucking Joel’s dick and teasing him like a little slut. And now look at you? You made eye contact with the camera in front of you. You were a complete mess of tears and drool and hickeys. Your face was hot and every push of Joel’s hips sent an uncontrollable moan tumbling from your lips.
“I — fuck, Daddy,” you try, the pleasure consuming you completely. God, why couldn’t you just speak? Your brain was mush. Complete fucking mush. Was his cock really that good? “I love it so m-much. Love being fucked in front of the camera. L-love showing them what a good girl I— I am for you.”
Joel feels his balls tighten at your words, his cock threatening to spill his release right then and there into your suffocatingly tight pussy. He’d already wrung two orgasms out of you, ones that left you breathless and trembling in ecstasy on the mattress beneath him.
“That’s right,” he grunts, leaning over your body, his pace unfaltering as he grabbed your phone from it’s perch and flipped the camera to the back, bringing it down to capture the sight of his cock plunging in and out of your dripping heat. “Look at this. This fuckin’ — mess. This all it takes, baby girl? All I gotta do is pull out a camera and you go all fucked out on me?”
His words melted into your brain, turning your already mushy noggin into a pool of pleasure. A coil that you weren’t even aware was building deep within you, snapped only seconds after he directed the camera right at your both most intimate parts.
And Joel could feel it, feel you coming apart on his cock once again. He fucked you through it, slowing his thrusts down now, pulling himself out enough that he was just fucking you with the tip of his dick. The sight in the moment was amazing, but on camera? Fuck it was even better.
Your phone captured the pearly white substance you’d created with each release perfectly, despite the not-so great lighting of the room. Your juices had dripped down to his balls, coating them and leaving them shining beautifully.
Joel uses the other hand he wasn’t holding the phone with to stroke your back through your soft gasps and sobs. His pace now almost non existent as he barely moved within you. “You all done, sweetie? You had enough?” He asks gently, a hint of condescension in his voice that had you clenching around the small part of him still inside of you.
“Hm,” you huff, your voice whiny and raw. The truth was, you weren’t sure if you had had enough. I mean, had you ever truly had enough of Joel’s cock? You didn’t think so. “M’not sure, Joel.”
Fuck. Your heart squeezed at the mistake you’d made. You weren’t meant to say his name.
Joel notices your error immediately, but the panic of his name being out there for everyone to hear, didn’t hit him. He just leaned down to press a kiss to the small of your back. “S’okay,” he glances down at the comments on the stream, reading the praises of the audience.
One particular comment requested for anal. The petition was vague and brief, not specifying the exact kind of ass play they wanted.
The request has his cock twitching. He still hadn’t found release yet, and he knew you enjoyed ass play. You had actually been the one to bring up the idea of it in the bedroom a couple months ago, which he was pretty hesitant about before actually trying it with you.
“What if we finish this off with a request from one of your little friends on here, sweet girl? Seems like they’re awful into the idea off ass play.” He suggests, pulling out of you completely, watching his cock bob slightly with the action.
“Ohh n’yeah, yes, joel. Want.. want your mouth and your fingers there.” To be honest, you think you’d agree to anything at this point. Your brain was so relaxed, your body so thoroughly pleasured that even the touch of his hand palming an asscheek of yours sent waves of arousal swimming in your stomach.
You arch back into his touch and joel takes his time with capturing the soft jiggle of your ass when he slapped it gently, the ripple of the soft skin. He then aimed the camera to focus more on the pretty, puckered hole above your entrance.
It was practically winking at him, and the urge to completely devour you whole was coming very tempting. But he suppressed the urge. He wanted to show just how beautiful his girl was. How the softest touches could make you squirm.
Joel groans low in his throat, the sound rumbling from him at the beauty in front of him. “This sweet fuckin’ asshole, baby. You’ve no idea how much I love playin’ with’cha right here.” He expresses enthusiastically, angling the camera to capture just below his nose as he leaned down and licked a stripe from your clit, alllll the way up to your other hole.
A contented smile crosses your lips and your drop your face down into the pillow, humming softly at the pleasantly ticklish sensation. God, you couldn’t wait to look back at the highlights of this live. Hopefully someone clips this.
Joel flattens his tongue and begins to lick your hole up and down, the wet heat of the muscle on those sensitive nerves making you gasp softly. The camera captured the moment perfectly and Joel found his chest swelling with pride at the fact that that was his tongue on your ass. Not some idiot pornstar who barely cared for your pleasure. But him.
“Oh, Joel. S’right there. M’so— so sensitive there.” You moan into the pillow, the sound of voice muffled against the fabric.
Joel moans against you, not wanting to pull back to answer in case he fucked up his rhythm. He reached up with his free hand to your pussy, finding your soppy clit with ease. You moan louder when he begins to circle it as he eats your ass.
He feels himself stir down south, his cock throbbing in time with his heartbeat as your moans progressively got louder.
You were a mess above him, the fact that this was being filmed was the last of your thoughts. “Gonna — gonna cum, daddy. Gonna cum.” You sob. Your pussy was already so sensitive after your previous releases and with the mix of his tongue and fingers, you were coming apart before Joel could even respond.
But joel was there, talking you through it. And.. coming himself. Thick ropes of his cum came spurting from his tip onto the mattress, a mess to think about later. He moans and grunts against your asshole and finally pulls back from it, but doesn’t stop rubbing your clit through it.
And the comments? Were going crazy.
“Omg his voice is so fucking hotttt”
“The way he speaks to her is so perfect it’s so hard to find actual good praise kink in porn”
“HES CUMMING UNTOUCHED IM OBSESSED”
Yeah, you think the fans might want this to be more of a regular thing. And Joel? You weren’t sure he’d object.
tags: 18+ only, ICKYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY joel, dark! joel, naive! and oblivious! reader, post-outbreak au, ellie doesn't exist, sweet nicknames, daddy kink, dd/lg elements, large and in-charge legal age gap, oral m receiving, corruption kink
word count: 1868
summary: you ask joel what a trouser snake is...
a/n: i was inspired by a story on an spicy lit website but i cannot for the life of me remember the authors name💔also lowk cant write smut anymore its been too long BOOOOO
in the early sweltering heat of spring, you wiped the sweat that was beginning to form at your hairline with the back of your hand. a cool breeze hit you, the air going straight up your back to dry off some of the sweat there. you were thinking about if maybe joel would be at home yet.
he helped out with the construction of things in jackson with his brother, tommy. joel was more-so the management and tommy was out there with the others, ever since tommy made him quit carrying heavy lumber due to his ever-aching back. as you walked by the swaying trees, the sound of a nearing car motor caught your attention from behind.
glancing back over your shoulder, you saw it was a truck full of boys and smiled politely at them. your late grandmother always told you to smile at everyone, including strangers, but you recognized some of them from town meetings.
you were fully expecting to get a kind gesture back, but were met with confusion instead.
"hey sweetheart! come sit on my trouser snake!" one boy said, invoking laughter from the others. furrowing your eyebrows together, you cocked your head to the side. "your what?"
they all laughed even harder and just sped away, yelling.
"trouser snake…" you mouthed the words back to yourself, trying to put the pieces together but to no avail. as you finally neared the house, you spotted joel's truck in the driveway, and skipped toward the front door as your skirt fluttered in the air behind you. opening the door, your eyes dart around in search of joel. you really wanted to ask him what a trouser snake was.
"hey darlin', that you?" his voice resonated from upstairs. "yes!" you called out to him, practically running up the stairs. he was in his bedroom, back turned to you, accompanied by a drilling sound. walking closer, you see that he was currently working on a miniature wooden house.
"hey princess." he greets again, not taking his eyes off of his work in progress.
you always felt so comfortable with joel. ever since you stumbled upon jackson during that extremely cold winter, he and tommy were the ones at the gate who let you come in. they wrapped blankets around your shivering frame and gave you endless cups of hot chocolate once you were inside the bar.
bringing your hands around his head to rest over both of his eyes, you giggled. joel smiled as well, even though he tried to hide it.
removing your hands, you stand to the side of him. "…um, i have a question?" you propose and he turns his head to you. his hair was mostly silver nowadays, the strands almost glistening in the beams of sunlight that came through the window.
"ok." he nods, awaiting said question.
you just come right out and say it. "what's a trouser snake?" your lips stay slightly apart in wonder in contrast to joel's, who's eyebrows were furrowed and his lips a straight line, mixed emotions on how you know what that is.
or who said that to you.
"where'd 'ya hear that from, princess?" joel asked cautiously, not wanting you to believe that you were in trouble or anything like that. as you shake your head, you recall the whole street interaction with the truck full of boys and them yelling it out to you, plus your confusion and everything.
"the boys outside. they said, 'sit on my trouser snake' but i don't wanna get bit by a snake!!" fear seeps into your brain, never having gotten bit by any type of animal, definitely not by a snake. "i was so confused, i thought you would know because you teach me everything." your eyes light up, so grateful that joel has learned you the ways of this new world.
joel looked like he had seen a ghost.
he sighed out, blowing out his cheeks and shaking his head slowly. "princess...i," he began to speak. "is it poisonous?" you ask carefully.
he stands up from his chair, a quiet groan evident, before going to sit on the edge of the bed, his hands on his knees. "honey, what those boys were talking about...it, well," you cut off his train of words once more. "have you seen one?"
the gears in joels mind were working overtime. he knew that you wouldn't know what a damn trouser snake would be. he didn't wanna ruin your innocence like that.
but he can't lie and say that the thought of you only being taught things by him was darkly exciting. you trusted him with everything in you. he began to nod to your recent question, making your eyes widen.
"what does it look like? he said it's in your pants! isn't that scary?" you asked these questions like you were asking what was for dinner. running a hand through his silver hair, he just went along with it.
"no. it's not scary." he simply said, with a sigh. "oh..." you brought your hands together, rubbing your nailbeds against each other, making a soft clicking noise as you thought.
joel's pants were already a little tight, but now they were restrictive almost. his "trouser snake" was getting a little excited at the whole situation.
"but, princess, don't worry about that. it's really not all that imp-"
"can i see?" you ask with hope. joel's expression contorted. his eyes darted around the room, keeping his head immobile. "see what?"
"your trouser snake!" you say matter-of-factly as you plop down next to him on the bed. he was now aware of how close you two were, and scooted away a little bit. "no, i don't think that's a good idea." he says firmly, he raises his hand in your direction briefly before setting it back down on his thigh.
your expression showed slight irritation. "joel! that's not fair, you said you'd always explain things to me. they didn't teach me anything at the other camp! pleaseeeee?" you drug out the last word. and it was true. the camp that you were previously at raised you from a baby to a now 20-something-year-old, but it was mainly elderly women who were nun-like. they told you to not think about or trust boys, but you knew you could trust tommy and joel.
"…no baby. i'm sorry." he managed to get the words out clearly.
you turned away from him before standing up and stomping your foot. "fine!" you call out, making joel raise an eyebrow at you, but you didn't care right now. "i'll just ask jesse! he'll show me what a trouser snake looks like since you won't show me yours." you huff out. you didn't understand why joel wouldn't agree to your request.
"jesse?!" he asked, anger seeping around the edges of his tone, making you retreat just the slightest. "you go ask jesse and see what happens." he spoke lowly as your eyes dropped to the carpeted floor, doubtful now. "you know better than to stomp your foot at me. go to your room." he pointed to the wall, to your room which was right next to his own. you knew not to push any further and begrudgingly obeyed his order, slamming your door shut before plopping face down on your bed. out of the corner of your eye, you spot your withered sketchbook and pencil, grabbing them both to doodle to calm yourself down.
you weren't aware of how much time had gone by until there was a knock at your door.
"princess? can i come in?" joel's soft voice spoke from the opposite end of the door. pausing for a moment, you answered yes and heard the door creak open. you stayed on your stomach, with your back to him, quiet. then he sighed. "you really wanna see one, hm?" this made you immediately turn over, making joel shake his head.
"come here." he motioned with his hand as you scurried to stand up and go over to him.
"close your eyes." he continued, and you did so. he grabbed your hand, flipping it palms-down and guided it until your fingers bumped into something…hard.
“keep those pretty eyes closed, babygirl.” his breath came out a bit labored. he hadn’t felt a touch other than his own in years. his fingers closed around yours, putting pressure on both his hand and his clothed cock. you gasp at the feeling of it in your hand. “joel yours is big?” you say curiously, making joel smugly smile.
“yea, baby. he is a little big, huh?” he speaks, his mind barely focusing on his words and more so on your hand rubbing him so good through his jeans.
“oh that’s a good girl baby. just like that.” joel breathed out, breaths uneven as your tongue glided up and down the side of his aching, throbbing cock. and an old tie as a blindfold over your eyes.
it was awful.
joel lying and saying that sometimes a trouser snake needed to be licked like a lollipop so it won’t be angry and bite him. your eyes enlarged to saucers at the thought of joel being injured and jumped at the idea to help.
the condition?
you couldn’t look at it or it would bite you too. that’s where the blindfold comes into play. so there you were, on your knees before him, mouth open and dragging your tongue around his heavy meat like it was the best lollipop in the world. his hand was on the back of your head now.
“open your mouth and stick your tongue out, baby.” seeing nothing but the darkness caused by the tie over your eyes, you do as he says. shortly after, you felt the heavy slaps of it on your wet tongue, with joel loving the site.
“will ‘ya be a good girl and do this for daddy when he needs it?” he runs his head across the flat of your tongue, then pulls back to rub against your lips. you nod almost immediately. “yes, yes i will.”
“say, ‘yes daddy i will’.” he softly commands.
you swallow briefly. “yes daddy, i will..”
“atta girl. open up wide, baby.” his length invaded your mouth, lips stretching as you try not to gag. soon enough, your spit was dribbling down your chin as joel gently fucked your mouth, his hands keeping your head close.
“oh baby. you’re making him realll happy. such a good girl.” each thrust in your mouth brought joel one step closer to his peak. his cock slippery with a mix of your spit and his precum, made every single one of his nerve endings buzz with complete pleasure.
“fuck fuck fuck. oh here i co—it comes. don’t be scared princess.” he warned you before his trouser snake sprayed its seed all over your pretty blindfolded face. spurts came out and landed on your forehead, cheek, nose, and even in your hair. you weren’t scared only confused.
“it’s warm daddy.” your fingers were splayed out, not used to the foreign substance. joel was still standing above you, trying to catch his breath from a mind blowing orgasm. “it’s okay, princess. that means he likes you.”
Summary: Frankie finds your panties in his pocket and his mind starts wandering.
Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, fluff, Frankie is horny and sooo in love, established relationship, m!masturbation, daydreaming of fem!oral, unprotected piv, creampie, swearing.
Word count: 1,1k
A/n: Happy Frankie Friday, loves🧢 I got inspired/horny and wrote this little thing. Thanks to my baby @milla-frenchy for beta-ing and to @cursed-carmine for the dividers. Hope y’all will enjoy the story♥️
Frankie Morales Masterlist || MASTERLIST
Frankie’s at work when he finds your panties in his jeans pocket. He doesn’t realize what they are at first and frowns, looking at a piece of lacy fabric, hanging off his finger. As soon as he recognizes the shape his eyes widen and he quickly crumples them in his fist. He’s proud to show off his hot girlfriend to his friends anytime but this is intimate, for his eyes only.
He knows you sneaked them in his pocket on purpose and his lips spread into a smile.
Naughty girl.
Frankie shoves them back and rushes to the bathroom. He closes the door of the stall and presses his back to it. Then he pulls the underwear out again, holds it with his two hands in front of his face, imagining your pussy behind the intricate fabric and his balls get heavy with want for you. He glides his thumb over the lace, his pupils dilating just looking at the garment.
Of course, he brings them to his nose. That’s what you wanted him to do, little minx, — to press the soft material to his lips and take a whiff of your scent. Fuckkkk, your scent. Delicate and tempting. Delicious and sweet.
With his heart beating fast, his cock getting thicker in his boxers, his tongue darts out and he licks the gusset. Maybe he’s imagining it but a trace of your taste tickles his receptors, so he closes his eyes and licks it again. He imagines your soft folds like flower petals under his tongue, your juices as tasty as honey. A moan falls from his lips and he snaps his eyes open in fear that someone’s heard him.
“What are you doing there, Morales?” If he hears this now he’ll die from embarrassment.
But it’s quiet behind the door and Frankie lets out a relieved sigh.
“Oh, baby…” His whisper is barely audible. He wishes you’d hear it but you’re too far away and the pain of missing you squeezes his heart with a claw. He’d do anything to be with you right now, to make you pay for what you’re doing to him right this second.
He’d throw you over his shoulder like a Neanderthal and bring you upstairs to the bedroom, pin you to the mattress and kiss you hard. The images behind his eyelids are intoxicating him.
You’re giggling but he knows you’re trembling inside, ready to be ruined. He climbs down your gorgeous body and pulls up your skirt to find his heaven — your delicious, soft, warm, beautiful pussy. He can’t wait. He gets to feasting immediately. You might cry and beg for him to slow down, to give you time to get used to his caress but he doesn’t yield. Your nectar is too tasty to stop drinking it, your moans are too hot to quiet them.
His tongue inevitably finds its way inside you and Frankie begins fucking you with it slowly and steadyly, his hands keeping your thighs apart, his nose rubbing your little clit just how you like it.
You come hard for him, almost crying, your lips and lashes wet. He kisses the tears away after he moves up your body and settles between your thighs.
Your core is flooded thanks to his skillful mouth and your pussy swallows his huge cock without trouble after what he’s done to you.
He’d give everything to be inside you right now. To feel your velvet walls hugging him tightly, your warm slick coating his cock and Frankie bites his lower lip, imagining how perfectly you’d pulsate around his length.
“Oh, baby,” he quietly repeats and his whole being wishes to hear those words in your voice right now.
“Oh, baby, you’re so deep inside me… your cock’s so big… can feel it everywhere.”
He loves your dirty mouth. Your praise makes him lose his mind and his cock plunges harder inside you.
In his daydream he’s already made you moan, now he wants to hear you scream his name. Get the bed rocking, soak the sheets with his and your sweat. He’s thrusting his cock into you fast and hard, not letting you catch your breath, pounding into you relentlessly.
Then he pauses, still deep inside you, still caging you against the bed, and stops so he could feel you. His eyes lock with yours, both hazy and blown out, mirroring each other.
“You feeling good?” He asks and you nod with a big drunk-looking smile.
“I love you so much.” A soft kiss follows his confession and he licks ‘love you’s’ off your lips like it’s the sweetest nectar.
Your hips slightly move under him and when he drinks your whine he knows you need him too much.
“Mmm.. my impatient girl,” he teases you and thrusts in. You choke as a sudden pleasure washes over you and your thighs spread wider as an invitation, no— a plea for him to go on.
He’ll give it to you like you deserve it.
His hips moving slow and steady, he’s massaging your walls with his stiff cock, his movements accompanied by you, mumbling his name like a prayer. He’s not your God but you’re his — his goddess, his muse, his hope and his love.
Brushing your cheek with his lips he’s whispering sweet nothings to you while you’re gripping his shoulders, making him feel incredibly good.
You cry out when a wave of ecstasy hits you and your pussy starts fluttering around Frankie’s cock. He comes soon after, painting your walls with his warm cum, filling you so full your panties won’t have a chance to keep it all inside and your thighs will be wet and sticky after.
He smiles thinking of it, his claim is hidden but you both know it’s there.
Frankie’s head drops down and he stares at his huge cockbulge. Like a tiger in its cage it demands to be released, and not being able to keep hold of his desire any longer, he unzips his jeans.
“Hey, baby!” You cheerfully greet him on the other end of the line after he calls you.
“Don’t ‘hey baby’ me, little minx. I just found your present.”
“Did youuuu?” You sing. “Hope you like it!”
Your playful giggle feels his heart with love but his cock twitches impatiently. He gives it a stroke and grits his teeth, burying a moan in his throat.
“Very much,” Frankie lowers his voice and gruffs into the speaker, “I'm in the bathroom now. What do you think I should do to you when I’m back?”
You hum as if thinking hard but as you start talking he realizes you know exactly what you want.
He rests the back of his head against the door, closes his eyes and listens to you, stroking his leaking cock, his hand moving back and forth steadily, your panties wrapped around his palm.
Thank you for reading! Please, leave a comment and reblog if you liked the story💞
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