Your best friend calls, voice raw, and you realize heβs jerking off to you. The call spirals into a dirty, tense back-and-forthβhim confessing all the nasty things he wants to do to you, you teasing between sweet and cruel, letting him see just enough to break him. He cums hard for you, then you make him listen while you play with yourself and orgasm. At the very end, you drop the sweetest bombβand hang up, leaving him ruined, obsessed, and wanting more.
β 2,827 words, old story, smut/explicit sexual content(18+), lots of dirty talk, masturbation, praise & a tiny bit of degradation, pet name/name calling (e.g, ma/mama, baby, sweetheart, honeyΒΉ, and slutΒΉ), you're a little mean but he likes it, etcβ
"Hello?" you call, picking up on the third ring. The room is quiet, the only light the coming from your amber lamp and the blue glow from your screen reflecting off your freshly done nails.β
"H-hey," his voice scrapes out on the other end. Itβs a wrecked soundβragged, breathless, and vibrating with an intensity that makes your stomach flip.β
Your brows pull tight, a slow worry already beginning to tug at your lips. "Are you okay? You sound... off."
βYou picture him for a second. Maybe heβs sweaty from a run, his chest heaving under a thin t-shirt. Or maybe heβs been lugging another Amazon dresser for that old lady down the blockβalways the good guy, always helping somebody. But as you listen to the heavy, rhythmic hitch in his breathing, you realize youβre wrong.β
Right now, your best friend is laid out on his bed, the sheets a mess beneath him. His sweatpants and boxers are shoved down to his mid-thighs, his brown skin damp and glowing in the dim light of his room. His stomach is corded, muscles tightening and rippling with every long, desperate drag of his fist. His dick is a dark, heavy weight in his handβslick, flushed, and dripping through his fingers.
Heβs slowly but firmly stroking himself to the thoughtβand now the sweet, taunting soundβof your voice. Precum is already smeared over his knuckles, his thumb rolling lazy over his slit before pressing harder, coaxing a deep, guttural grunt from his throat.β
"Mghβnothing. Just... talk to me," he rasps, the friction of his hand audible through the speaker.β
Your frown deepens, your heart is starting to race. "Why? Whatβs wrong, baby?"β
The pet name slips out easy, unthinking. But the effect is immediateβhe moans low, a broken, helpless sound, like youβd reached through the line and wrapped your hand around him yourself. He lives for when your voice turns soft like this, when you stop clowning him and get sweet. His fist moves quicker now, his hips pushing up into his palm, seeking the friction he canβt get enough of.β
"I'm fine, I promise. Just keep talking. Please."
βYou fall quiet for a beat, leaning back against your headboard. You listen harder. You hear the wet, squelching sounds of his grip. The sharp little hitches of breath. The low, animalistic sound he makes when his fist squeezes tighter at the base.
And it clicks.β
"...Youβre jerking off."β
Silence. Just the heavy, frantic sound of his breathing. Then a broken, self-deprecating laugh. "Yeah. M'sorry. Canβt stop. Not when itβs you."β
Your breath stutters, a prickle of heat blooming low in your belly. "Youβre getting off to me? On the damn phone?"
β"Every time," he admits, his voice rough and needy, but with a sudden edge of raw honesty. He wants you to know. He wants you to feel the weight of it. "Think about you all the time. That mouth. Those tits. The way your ass looks in those shorts." His pace picks up, the slick, lewd sounds of his hand working his dick filling the line. "Fuck, Iβd do anything to see you ride me, just once. Just to see what that look on your face is like when Iβm deep inside you."
βYou bite your lip, your pulse kicking against your throat. "Thatβs disgusting. Using my voice to get your nut. Youβre nasty."β
He groans like youβve just blessed him with a touch. "Yeah, I know. But you're all I think about... youβre the only thing that gets me this hard."β
"That's nice, honey. But you really shouldn't think of me like that... you know we're just friends," you murmur, your own hand sliding down to rest heavy on your thigh, the silk of your shorts cool against your palm.β
"Donβt say that." His tone cuts sharp now, all the nice playfulness you've come to love is gone. "Iβm not your fucking friend. You call me every day. You tell me you love me. I told you from the startβIβm not your friend." His breath hitches, the wet sounds of his fist speeding up, becoming more frantic. "You let me talk to you like this. And you let meβYou let me be in your life knowing how I feel about you."β
Your acrylic nail drags slow across your bottom lip. "Maybe. But I can't give you what you want, and I do love you, but don't throw it in my face," you drawl, a cruel, satisfied smirk pulling at your mouth.
"Itβs kinda sad. Stroking your dick to a girl youβll never have. We'll never be together. Iβll never let you fuck me. All you get is your hand."
βHe chokes out a moan, his hips snapping up into his fist with a raw, mechanical rhythm. "Yeah? Then give me something else. Show me. Facetime me, ma. Please."β
You hesitate, the heat pooling heavy and agonizing between your thighs. Then, you click over.β
The screen flickers to life. His camera is shaking, his breath filling the dark room. Sweat beads at his temples, his face flushed a deep, beautiful bronze, his lips parted. You know that tremor in the cameraβitβs the force of his fist moving fast.β
"Thank you," he exhales, the word almost reverent as he takes in your appearance.
β"Hi, baby. Let me see your face," you don't ask it like a question. You order it.β
He obeys instantly. His face fills the screen, his jaw tight and corded, his sharp fade a bit messy from the heat and the friction.
β"You look good," you compliment, but the little laugh that follows makes it sting.
β"Keep talking." Heβs close, you can hear the strain in his voice. "Don't stop."β
"I want to see."β
He blinks, his eyes glazed and dark. "What?"
β"I'm not repeating myself."
βHe lets out a breathless, desperate laugh, knowing your patience is thin. "Take your shirt off then. Let me see what I'm working for."β
You narrow your eyes at the audacity, but you reach down and tug the pajama top off anyway. Your lace bra catches the light, the fabric straining against the fullness of your breasts. You donβt cover yourself; heβs seen you in less, and you want him to see exactly what heβs missing.
β"Fuck," he groans, a sound of pure, unadulterated pain. He flips the camera.β
Your breath catches. Your mouth goes dry. His dick is a complete messβhis fist is working tight and fast, the dark, veined length of him glistening with pre-cum. White streaks of cum are already dried tacky over his thighs from previous rounds, and his stomach is flexing with every pull. His abs are glistening, his skin slick with sweat. His thumb smears a fresh bead of precum over the flushed, velvet head until it gleams, dripping onto his knuckles.
βYou bite your lip hard, heat twisting through your belly, your shorts already sticking damp between your thighs.
βHis moan rips through the line, a guttural, animal sound.β
You whisper his name, your voice low, trembling, and possessive. "... I really want you in my mouth."β
His head snaps back against the pillow, a broken curse ripped from his lungs. "If I had you here? Iβd fuck that throat till you cried. Till you gagged around me and begged for air. Iβd hold your head and make you take every fucking inch."β
You hum, a low, taunting vibration. "Youβre not tough enough for that."β
That pulls a dark, dangerous laugh from him. His hand works faster, the veins straining down his forearm. "Say that shit again. Iβd hold your face down and shove my dick so deep youβll feel me in your chest. Iβll make you swallow every drop."
βYour thighs squeeze together, wetness soaking through the crotch of your shorts. "All talk. Youβd fold the second it touched my tongue."β
He groans, deep and pained. "God, you drive me fucking insane." His breath stutters, thenβ"Take your bra off for me. Now."
βYou tilt your head, slow and teasing. "You want a show?"β
"Take it off." His voice is rough, a plea threaded with a hard command.
βYou hook your fingers into the lace, slipping it down your shoulders, letting it fall. Your breasts sit full and heavy in the cameraβs glow, your nipples tight and peaked in the cool air.β
He chokes on his own breath. "God, look at you. Perfect. Fucking perfect."β
Your fingers lift, tugging lightly at one nipple, rolling it between your fingers. "Like this, baby?"β
His hand drags hard down his dick, the slick sound of it filling your ears. "Yeahβplay with them for me. Pinch βem. Roll βem." His eyes roll back for a second, his mouth slack. "FuckβI wanna cum all over those tits. Paint you, watch it drip down your stomach. Youβd look so good messy with my cum."β
You coo, your voice dirty and soft. "Yeah, baby? You wanna ruin me like that? Wanna cover me βcause Iβm yours?" You pinch harder, moaning low. "Mmh, Iβd let you do it however you want."β
His hips jerk up into his fist, his cock flushed dark, thick, and veined. The head is shiny with slick, and your eyes stay locked on it, transfixed by the weight of him in his palm.β
You whisper, almost reverent. "I canβt stop watching your hands. They're so big and veiny. So strong. You're twitching in your gripβlook at you, baby. All that for me."
βHe groans raggedly, his fist slapping wetly down the length of his shaft. "All for you. Always for you." His voice cracks, desperate. "Squeeze 'em, touch your tits harder. Let me see you play with those pretty nipples."
βYou squeeze your breast, pinch your nipple harder, tugging it until you gasp, your eyes locked on his fist pumping. The sound of itβwet, obscene, skin slapping skinβis the only thing in the world.β
"Fuck," he grits out, his voice frayed. "Iβd drag you down and smear every drop over you. I wanna fill you up."
βYou laugh softly, mean but sweet. "Yeah? Youβd mark me up? Cover me so everybody knows this pussyβs yours? Even though youβll never get to fuck it?"β
He groans, almost breaking under the weight of the tease. "Stopβdonβt say that. Iβd fuck you stupid, ma. Iβd split you open. Make you cry for me."β
You hum, stroking your breast with slow, deliberate circles. "I bet you would. But right now? All youβve got is your hand. And me watching."β
His grip tightens, his strokes becoming rough and fast. His stomach flexes, his breath tearing ragged from his chest. You lean close to the screen, your voice low and syrup-thick.β
"Cum for me, baby."β
He moans, a high, guttural sound.β
"Yeah," you coax, squeeze your breast, shifting them again, "make a mess for me. Let me see you shoot it all over yourself. Come on. Show me how much you want me."β
"Fuckβ" His hips stutter up into his fist. Precum spills slick down his shaft, his knuckles shiny and wet.
β"Begging you, sweetheart," you whisper, cruel and filthy. "Paint yourself for me. Cover that stomach, those big handsβshow me what I do to you."β
He chokes, his eyes squeezing shut, his jaw locked tight as his body begins to coil for the release. "Mβcloseβoh fuck, Iβm gonnaβ"β
"Do it," you purr, sharp and commanding. "Cum for me, baby. Now."
βHis whole body jerks. A shout rips from his throat, raw and primal, as thick, hot ropes of cum spill over his hand, his chest, dripping down his stomach in heavy white streaks. He pumps through the release, groaning brokenly, the cum splattering messy and hot across his skin.
βYou sigh, watching the way it looks against his skin, your voice turning sweet again. "Thatβs it. Good boy. Look at that dick, dripping for me. You made such a mess."
βHeβs panting, ruined, his hand still twitching around his softening length. "Fuck... fuck, I love you."
βYou tilt the camera, watching him still sprawledβsweat dripping, stomach streaked with cum, hand twitching.
β"Mmh," you hum, soft and wicked, "look what you did, baby. Got me all wet."
βHis head snaps up, eyes heavy but blazing. "Show me."
βYou smirk, slipping your hand under the waistband of your shorts, dragging the damp fabric aside. Glossy, honey-thick strings pull as you spread yourself open, the phone angled just enough to flash him a glimpse of your soaking wet center. "See that? All for you."
βHe groans, his chest heaving. "Touch it for me. Play with yourselfβplease, ma."β
Your laugh is low and cruel. "Not a chance. You already got your show."β
His jaw tightens, his voice rough. "Don't play with me. You don't let me watch, I'll make you beg next time. I'll make you sorry."β
You lean close to the screen, your smirk sharp and triumphant. "Try me. You don't scare me, baby. I said no."β
His fist curls against his stomach, frustration pouring through the camera. "Then... at leastβfuckβat least let me listen. Please. Let me hear it."
βYou bite your lip, dragging your fingers slow through your slickness, making yourself whimper. "Youβre nasty."
β"Yeah," he rasps, desperate. "For you. Only for you."β
You sigh, soft and sweet, pressing two fingers against your clit until your hips twitch. "Fine. You can listen. But thatβs it. Just your ears."
βYour moans slip out, low and syrupy, filling the line. His breath shudders at the sound, ruined but hungry again. Your fingers circle your clit, the wet, squelching sounds of your own pleasure bleeding into the line. You bite your lip, letting a whimper slip, knowing heβs eating every sound alive.β
"Thatβs it," he rasps, his voice still raw from cumming. "Rub that pretty pussy for me. God, I wanna be there so badβwanna hold your thighs open and eat you till youβre crying."β
Your head tips back, your breath shaky. "MghnβYou talk so nasty, baby."β
"You donβt even know," he grits out. "Iβd spread you out and pound that pussy till you scream. Iβd fuck you till you smell like me. I'd never let you leave the bed."β
A moan rips out of you, high and breathless. Your fingers circle faster, your hips rolling up off the bed as the tension coils.
β"You like that?" he groans. "Knowing how bad I want you? Tell me youβll give it up one day. Tell me Iβll get to fuck you for real."β
Your laugh cuts sharp and shaky. "N-No, baby. Youβll never have me like that."β
He curses, a guttural sound of frustration. "Fuck. Youβre killing me, ma."β
Your moans rise, sharper now, your body coiling tight. "Keep talking. Don't stop."
βHe obeys, his voice a low, gravelly anchor. "Iβd hold your hips down. Spit in your mouth while I fuck you raw. Fill you up and make you go for hours."β
That does itβyour back arches, your thighs clenching tight as your orgasm rips through you. A sharp cry tears from your throat, your fingers working frantically over your clit as waves of pleasure slam through your body. You gasp his name, shuddering and trembling, your juices dripping messy against your hand.β
He groans raggedly, listening to the sound of your break like itβs gospel. "Thatβs itβfuck, thatβs it. Cum for me. Good girl. Good fucking girl."β
You collapse back, chest heaving, sweat dampening your skin. You let out a low, satisfied hum. "Oh, shit... see what you did? You made me cum, handsome."
βHis breath hitches on the other end, broken and reverent. "...Iβd do anything to see that."β
Your breathing slows, your chest still rising and falling heavy. Your fingers slip from your soaked folds, leaving a wet sheen on your thighs. The line is quiet except for the sound of you both catching your breath.
Heβs the first to break it, his voice ragged. "Man... I swear, one dayβ"β
You cut him off with a sweet, dismissive little laugh, curling back into your pillow and pulling the covers up. "Shh. Donβt start again."
βThe silence stretches, thick and heavy with the things he wants to say. You can feel the ache in his voice, how close he is to spilling confessions you aren't ready to hear. So you give him something else. Something cruel, but honest.β
"Thank you," you murmur, soft and sweet. Almost tender. "I love you so much, baby."β
The phone goes quiet. You can picture himβeyes wide, lips parted, his heart clenching around those words. You know exactly what youβve done to him.β
You smile to yourself, curling the blanket over your bare chest. "Good night."β
And you hang up before he can even find his voice to answer.
basement gerard x reader because it's one of my guilty pleasures <3
This was the last place you thought youβd be giving a blowjob, but here you are, on your knees in Gerard Wayβs basement bedroom with a cock teasing at your lips.Β
Itβs a fucking pigsty, with laundry strewn all over the floor and furniture, empty energy drink cans on his desk, even his bed is a wreck. But somehow, the messβand the smellβdoes nothing to dampen the unexpected arousal coiling low in your belly.
Gerard had a certainβ¦ charm to him. You met at the comic book store he worked at, and the way he couldnβt meet your eye and stammered through βW-would you like the, uh, receipt with you, orβor in the bag?β made you feel unimaginably powerful.
So you went to the store more often, just to watch the way his hands twisted anxiously in his shirt when he watched you bend down for a comic on the lowest shelf, knowing your skirt rode up just enough to give the poor pervert a glimpse of your lacy panties. At the time, you had shamelessly imagined those thick fingers shoved down your throat.
This is a whole different level. When Gerard invited you over to watch a movie (βitβsβitβs this stupid s-slasher flick, we can, um, we can make fun of it, or whateverβ), you didnβt know what to expect. Some tension, maybe. Plenty of awkward looks, maybe some snacks.Β
Never in a million years would you have expected to catch the poor guy getting hard as a girl was getting hunted on-screen by a masked maniac.Β
He had tried to hide it, shifting, subtly adjusting his jeans. But every time you glanced over, you saw how big his pupils were, how he kept chewing on his lip. You decided to put him out of his misery when you said βare you getting off on this? You really are a freak.β
He went red, eyes round and panicked as he tried to explain it away, as if anything could make the situation any less disturbing. Something about it made you want to eat him alive.
So now, youβre getting what you asked for. The poor thingβs a trembling wreck as your tongue circles the swollen head of his cock, thick and hard and weeping.Β
"Uhnβplease, I-I ca-anβtβ" he sounds like a wreck, voice high and breaking just from the slightest touch of your lips on his dick. You take pity on him, engulfing him in the hot wetness of your mouth, jaw opening to accommodate him.
And itβs like a switch flips. He grabs onto your hair hard enough to sting and thrusts into your tight throat, whimpering when you gag around him.
βFuckββm sorry, βm so sorry, I justβjust canβt, fuck. Let me, please, l-let me just have this, honey, fuckfuckfuck youβre so tight here, is your pussy this tight? Shit, this is so much better thanβthan the pictures I took up y-your skirt. Iβm such a fffffuckβfucking freak, βm sorry baby.β
He uses your mouth like the fleshlight he has stashed away in his nightstand. Only this one gags and drools and swallows every hot rope he shoots down your throat in messy, jerky thrusts.
of course, steveβs experienced. some whispered about sex god. and sure heβs good at it. he never fails to make you finish whether stuffing you with his cock or on his tongue or with his fingers that always know what buttons to press. but you begin to wish things were a bit moreβ¦ interesting.
it starts with small things in the heat of the moment. youβre making out on his couch, steveβs hand cupping your jaw as his tongue explores your mouth. your hand wraps around his wrist, gentle at first until youβre tugging at him, silently guiding his hand down to wrap around your throat instead.
he pulls away from your lips with a quizzical look, his eyebrows furrowed adorably in comparison to his kiss swollen lips. βjustβ¦ keep it there,β you breathe in explanation, or lack thereof, before diving back into the heated kiss once more.
you ask him to spit in your mouth once. the two of you were buzzed, making out messily in his bed with his jean-clad thigh pressed just right between your legs. you were already practically swallowing his tongue, you simply wanted more. he laughed at you at first; βwhat? weβre not already swapping enough spit for you?β
you shake your head, a dazed, lust-saturated look in your eyes as you open your mouth, sticking your tongue out for him. steve doesnβt expect the way it makes him throb in his jeans. heβs still skeptical as he gathers a wad of saliva in his mouth, still feeling utterly disrespectful as he lets it drip onto your waiting tongue. but he canβt help but feel a little dizzy when you swallow it obediently, your eyes rolling back like heβs the best thing youβve ever tasted.
now when you have sex, heβs not always so sweet and attentive as he was when you first started dating. the sex is messy, dirty. heβs learned exactly how rough to take it to get every thought in your head melting out of your pussy. heβll have both of your legs thrown over his shoulders, holding you down by your neck. youβve already finished at least twice by then, and his ruinous pace is driving you into full on overstimulation.
when you whine that itβs too much, he brings his hand up to stuff a couple fingers in your mouth. βshh, shh, baby,β he shushes you with a grunt, βsheβs talkinβ to me.β the wet squelching sound of your tight hole pulling him deeper answers for you.
sometimes youβll blearily blink your eyes open in the morning to find him already buried inside you, his breath warm and needy against your neck. it took you the longest to convince him of this one, the fact that he couldnβt get consent from you in the moment always itching at his conscience. but the way you arch against him with the softest moan of his name when you wake like that always makes him twitch inside of you.
itβs the fact that youβve made him worse that really gets you. he was such a kind lover before, and you do still enjoy that side of him on occasion, especially when he takes such good care of you after wrecking your world. but you turned him into this. you almost feel guilty for it at times until you see the way that smirk grows on his face at your reaction when he smacks your clit or the way that he groans in ecstasy when big fat tears slip down your face in the heat of the moment.
corrupted as he may be, steve is exactly where he wants to be.
« cβmon, baby, bite on it..Β Β» clark panted, his hips working on autopilot as they slammed into you repeatedly, while he presented his forearm to you, waiting for you to plant your cute little fangs in his skin of steel. he had in a full nelson, but let go of one of your limp legs. « cβmon, donβt needa think about it, just do what am sayinβ, yeah? oh, yeah, good girlβ¦ good effinβ girl, thatβs right- ah-!Β Β»
clark has always had a habit of talking you through things, be it doing the dishes, cooking, or sex. but you wonder what in earth came through him tonight because, fuck, was he talkative.
« g-gonnaβ¦ hm, gonna fuck those useless braincells outta ya, yeah? been- nghβ been stressing out way too much about all that- that useless stuff, my loveβ¦Β Β» and he slammed up again, heavy balls tightening up with every twitch of your delicious pussy, all warm and gooey and sweet and he could practically taste your juices being squeezed out of your hole by his thick cock claiming its spot inside.
your fangs dig deeper into his skin, as if attempting to draw blood, but the kryptonian simply moansβwhines in your ear, as if you could bite down harder, hurt him further. with you, pleasure blended with pain, and whatever you could do to him would feel too fucking good.
« lemme fill youβ p-pleaseβ¦ lemme fill that cute tummy up.. yeah? you want that? want it all inside? oh, yeah, my sweet honeyβ¦ yeah, i know you want it.Β Β» the arm holding your leg up goes higher, bending your body into impossible flexibility. he cooed praises in your ear, whispers of sweet nothings to distract you from the bundle of pleasure focused on your coreβin vain.
he saw that was in vain when a stream of cut squirted out of your pussy, soaking the mattress, and your walls smashed around his twitching cock, which did not take long to follow. « fffuhh- nghβ gah! y-yeah! baby, thatβs it- hmm, yesssβ¦ s-such a p-perfect girl taking it aaallβ ahh- fuck! fuck, it feels so good! mβcumming again! mβcumming! gonna make you a mommy- ah, mβcumming, mommy!Β Β»
and then he came again, more this time, filling you to what felt like the brim with his seed.
Warnings: 18+. If yβall donβt like an age gap and a nasty, nasty breeding kink, DO NOT read this shitβIβm serious. Unprotected p-in-v. Daddy kink. Jealous!Joel. Feral!Joel. Cumplay Γ la sucking Joelβs dick clean after he fucks you.
Note: This is a one shot in the Waiting Game universe. If I had to guess, Iβd say it takes place between Homemade & Ruined!
Another Note: βSweet Emotionβ by Aerosmith is the song Joelβs listening to when heβs trying to kill his boner LOL.
Word count: 3.5k
Joelβs mind was always buzzing with bad ideas.
Heβd left for work that morning with his dick as hard as steel, balls as heavy as rocks, and you, gorgeous and naked and entirely unfucked in his king-sized bed.
Idiot that he was, he forgot to buy condoms last week. Youβd cleared all thirty-six of the rubbers heβd had during your most recent visit from college, and since then, Joel had been meaning to restock, but it just slipped his mindβnow, he was suffering the consequences of that oversight in spades, as he hadnβt been able to get his typical fill of you before he left for work. Or last night.
Youβd so sweetly suggested some 69 action after heβd picked you up from the airport the night before, knowing just how badly you wanted each otherβdespite the fact that it was three A.M. and you happened to be ovulating. But it wasnβt meant to be. No sooner had Joel shucked off his boots, jeans, boxers, and shirt and crawled into the space beside you in bed than you were passed out. Snoring loudly and lying splayed between his sheets without the faintest idea of how horny the old man was.
There is something very wrong with me, he thought.
Heβd been so pent-up and wild with thoughts of you writhing underneath him, cunt snug around his cock, that he hadnβt even been able to rub one out after that. It was like some maggot had crawled its way inside his head and had him needing insane things. Stupid things.
Shit that would legitimately get him locked up, or kicked to the doghouse, if he ever shared these thoughts aloud.
He wanted to pump you full of cum.
He craved the feeling of you leaking him.
He felt an urge to fill you like he never had before.
Had he really forgotten to buy those condoms last week? Or had it been the workings of his own subconscious mind, begging him to test the waters of what you would look like flush with that milky white substance and dripβ
Shit.
Joel almost spilled his piping hot two-dollar coffee from the gas station onto his pants. Again. He cut the wheel and made the turn, set the cup in its little holder, and, without a second thought for his own well-being, cranked the car stereo to fifty. Fuck his hearing.
βSWEEEEEEEET EMOOOOOTION!β
That should do the trick.
It seemed deafening himself with classic rock was the only way Joel could keep some semblance of composure today. Admittedly, it worked wonders. He learned it was much harder to stay horny when your head was ringing.
Of course, it had been just his luck that before heβd been able to stop by H-E-B to buy rubbers on his lunch break, youβd called and said you needed a ride from the repair shop. Apparently, your dadβs truck was all kinds of fucked up and heβd asked you to drop it off at the mechanic that afternoon. Youβd needed a ride home after, and Joel had only too happily, and hornily, obliged.
He was still stiff as shit pulling into the parking lot a minute later. He reached for the radio dial again but quickly found that heβd turned it all the way to its limit.
His phone buzzed in his pants.
Your name was on the screen.
I gotta fill out some bullshit paperwork. Come on in.
You mustβve seen him park the Bronco from inside.
Is that you blasting Aerosmith in your car? π€¨
Joel let out a sigh and shut off the engine.
Readjusting his rock-hard cock in his jeans, he went in.
And the moment he stepped in there, he regretted it. Joel got exactly one foot inside the door before his eyes nearly bugged out of his head and his jaw hit the floor.
You were signing paperwork alrightβbent over the front desk where everyone in the waiting room of the repair shop could see right up your miniskirt. Joel choked.
There had to be fifteen men in there, at least. All but one old guy dozing off in the corner were gawking at your backside pushed up in the air. Joel saw you shuffle some papers around, eyeball a form and pose a question to the man behind the desk, who was also trying his damndest not to stare, and then hum something low. You laughed.
You were so naΓ―ve.
As if a switch had flipped in his head and every thought thenceforth was from a place of being an overprotective, asshole-ish, caveman of a guy, Joel strode in, scowling.
He shot pointed, putrid looks of disdain at every shameless voyeur drinking you in with their eyes, and, to his surprise, a couple turned their gazes guiltily away.
Thatβs right. Keep your fucking eyes to yourself.
Then, without even really meaning to think it:
Sheβs all mine. So donβt get your hopes up.
Would anyone in there think you were with him? Did it even matter? In that moment, Joel didnβt give a shit. He just walked in with his head up, jaw clenched, and eyes shooting daggers at every scumbag who dared to keep looking. He approached the front desk just as you turned
βOh! Hey.β You breathed a sound of surprise, smiling. βYou scared the shit out of me. Iβll just be a minute.β
You had about thirty seconds before he yanked you out by that little skirt and drilled you on the hood of his car.
Instead of saying that, though, Joel just frowned.
βCβmon, kid, I got places to be. Hurry it up.β
You flashed him a puzzled look but said nothing in reply. He hadnβt expected you to, seeing how occupied you were with discussing your old manβs truckβs transmission flush, tire rotation, wiper blade replacement, and on and on and on until Joelβs head was spinning with all the jargon. Since when did you know about ignition coils?
No matter.
Just a few more action items to parse through, then youβd swipe your card and get the hell out of there.
βI meanβ¦do yβall have to replace that cabin air filter? Canβt my dad do that himself? Or just wait a little bit?β
Surely you knew you were torturing him now.
There was no way you werenβt doing this on purpose.
The shop employee scratched the back of his neck and gave a sheepish smile, right after heβd unglued his gaze from the cleavage spilling out of your top. He coughed.
βWellβ¦well, uh, see here, our last service report saysβ¦β
Joel didnβt give a flying fuck what the service report said. He tuned out the rest of what the little pervert was trying to tell you then and turned to face the waiting room with a flinty, stern look. Several sets of eyes snapped away.
One in particular, he noticed, didnβt flinch at all.
Of course it belonged to some shit-brained kid. Probably only two or three years out of high school and ogling you like a slab of meat while his father sat beside him, trying to do the same but slightly more discreetly. How polite.
It was almost as if Joel had acquired some supersonic hearing ability over the last five minutes, and he could somehow tell what the ass-hat was muttering to his dad.
βHell, Iβd like to bend her over a desk myself.β
His father grinned, eyes wandering again.
βYeah. I bet sheβd like that. Love it, even.β
Fuck this.
Technically, Joel hadnβt heard the words come out of their mouths, but the intentions had been behind their eyes all the same. He hated it. The longer he stood here with you, the more the odds grew heβd end up decking someone, or throwing a chair at their head, so he swiftly tilted and pressed a touch to your elbow. It amazed him how gentle it was, given the bloodlust percolating within.
βHoney, we need to go,β he told you, voice low.
βWhat?β You turned. Brows furrowing. βWhy?β
Because every swinging dick in this establishment wants to get in you. Letβs dip before I kill someone.
βBecause Iβm paying for all the repairs. Cβmon.β
Before Joel could even begin to contemplate the ramifications of this offerβexactly how much cash heβd be blowing on his best friendβs truck thanks to his impulsivenessβhe slid his credit card across the desk and jerked his head toward the door. Telling you to go.
βJoel, you canβtββ youβd just started to say.
βNow thatβs a real fine thing to do for your daughter, bββ
It was the latter of these two statements, seemingly spoken at once, that Joel paid any mind at all. The stranger behind the deskβs thinking that he was your dad, and not your partner, made his blood boil beneath the skin. His conviction to do this only grew stronger.
Suddenly, Joel was turning his body to you. Leaning down, gripping your chin in one hand, and letting his mouth land firmly on yours, so that there would be no mistaking who he was, or what he was to you. Not today.
Your lips were warm, and they kissed him back gently. When heβd pulled away, your face, and every expression around yours was painted with some degree of surprise.
The man behind the desk cleared his throat: βUh, sorry.β
Not the dad. Got it.
Joel was glad to spread the message, even if your gaze was lingering on his with a wordless little threat, like you would get him for this. He just grinned and nodded to the door again, then watched you leave, skirt swishing and bobbing all the way to the door. Hardly any eyes followed now, as most were too busy flitting to him.
Good.
Great.
βThatβll be $4,898.72, sir.β
Goddamn.
You hadnβt seen Joel this feral in ages.
Hell, maybe ever.
His cock seemed to be cleaving your body in half with how hard his thrusts were coming in now. How loud those wet slaps against the swell of your ass rang out through the cramped backseat of his car, how deep his tip sank, and how quickly the motions repeated, like Joel was beating a drum somewhere far down in your cervix.
Your eyes rolled. Jaw slackened. Tongue darted from either corner of your lips to lap away the spit that was trickling out. Joel was fucking you that hard. His strokes jostled your body, dick wedging deep and unforgiving, and his eyes were alight with a look you couldnβt quite decipher. Your own vision was blurring at the edges.
βTell me itβs mine,β Joel panted against your neck.
Then, as if his hips had been made to pummel at this relentless, frantic pace, he lowered his torso to yours and drilled away even quicker. The force and the friction were so great you had only to grip his forearms and meet his gaze, barely able to get the words out: βYβYours, Joel.β
Doing this the day after your period tracker claimed youβd been ovulating probably wasnβt the best idea. Insane as he was with desire, the thought did also seem to cross Joelβs mind as he pounded away. More than once, his brow pinched, and his hips made as if to stutter to a halt. Then the need kicked in. The thing picked up again, harder than it had before, and Joel was back to fucking you hard on the upholstered seats of his Bronco.
Above you, his jaw clenched. His teeth ground tighter.
βThisβ¦β he grit out, as if words evaded him. ββ¦OK?β
Yes, Joel.
Youβd never seen such bare-faced need from him in all your life, and you loved it. It wasnβt just the expression of a man in loveβwhich he wasβbut also the face of a person in pain. Someone whose need for your touch was so agonizingly great that he was blind to anything else. Joel lifted his arms to bracket your head so he could get in even closer, and his frantic pants warmed your cheeks. Come evening, youβd happily be popping Plan Bs like candy if it meant another moment of seeing him like this.
Sweat glistened on his brow and in between spatterings of silver and black along his jaw. His gaze was hard and determined, like he was contemplating something else.
Slowly, and with legs trembling against his sides at every thrust, you reached to cup his face. You stroked it gently.
βIsβIs everything alriββ
βI wanna cum inside you.β
Joelβs voice was deadpan, with no preamble or warning. Mere inches from your face, his own was twisted in that strange, pained look. His cock twitched; its pace slowed.
Your walls clamped around him instinctively. You blinked.
βW-What?β
βWanna fill you up.β
There wasnβt a shred of hesitation in his tone as his hips rocked steadily against you. If anything, his grip grew even tighter, like he was trying to press you down.
βBut Joel, Iβmββ Another clench. Another strangled breath. βI still mightβ¦beβ¦ovulating. And youβreβ¦β
βOld enough to be your father, ainβt I?β he sneered. βLeast, thatβs what everybody in that shop seemed to think. What if you made me one today, hm, sweet pea?β
He didnβt mean it.
Joel knew how bad itβd be if he really knocked you up. Just the same, you couldnβt contain the sharp, startled whimper as his cock stirred inside you and that thought took shapeβhis hot and sticky seed being shot in ropes, painting your needy walls, making you so, so full of him.
Your lizard brain didnβt bat an eye at that.
Blame it on ovulation, a glaring oversight in sex education, your undoubtedly compromised morals or whatever the case may have been, but you wanted it.
You needed him in, making a mess where he shouldnβt.
With sunlight bathing you both in the backseat of Joelβs car, classic rock drifting through the speakers, and one handsome, weathered, earnest expression hovering over yours with the faintest of smiles, how could you refuse?
He sped up again. The hands that had slid to your hips constricted to an almost suffocating level, but it was possessive. Protective. Envy sparked in Joelβs eyes.
It was a question, but it didnβt warrant a reply.
You nodded anyway, watching the older manβs gaze shift from your eyes to your lips to your breasts to, eventually, the sight of his length plunging in and out of your body below. Your eyes trailed after it, and you watched one hand of his move from your hip to your ribs. Rubbing.
Your wet and pliant hole took him with ease and welcomed him in. The sounds of your shared fluids were obscene, but it made the kind of wild, dizzying refrain you knew you wouldnβt be able to forget for years, if ever.
Slowly, Joelβs palm slid over, and his fingers splayed out.
His hand rested flat against your belly as he fucked you with abandon. At a particularly deep thrust, it was as if you felt him all the way up in your lungs, and your throat pushed out a cry. Your legs tightened around Joelβs waist, and you knew the end wasnβt far from sight.
βAllβAllβAll yours, daddy. Cum in me, please.β
Joelβs fingers flexed gently on your tummy, then he moved them back and forth as his dick did the same.
The friction nearly sent your mind in a spiral; you glanced down, and you saw his outline, faintly, under that touch.
Joel was so big, and your body was lying perfectly supine on the seat that you could feel himβsee himβpush repeatedly inside you. A little bulge took shape where his hand was pressing in, and the sensation was overwhelming. Your hands slid to Joelβs hair and yanked.
βFill meβwanna feel you, daddy, please just fill meββ
βThink a little swell in that bellyβll keep those boys from lookinβ, huh? Is that what I gotta do to show βem youβreββ
βYes! Fuck!β you whined.
ββalways gonna be mine?β
Joelβs thrusts were relentless. Your brain was on the fritz. Your hips tried to lift, mindlessly, begging him to fill you with his cum, but the man had you pinned underneath him. Sweat drenched you both, and the wildest ideas were humming between you. You were almost there.
βThatβd be one way to tell your dad, huh?β Joel panted.
Oh, fuck.
βHave you come home from college all swole up with my kidβhe couldnβt keep us apart then, huh?β he went on.
Your father would probably skin him alive if he found out. Still, your lips parted, and you dumbly, sweetly mumbled, OK, OK, Joel. Give me one. Make me a mommy, please.
Joel almost lost his hold on your hip and your belly with that last part; he all but folded in on you with that request. Breathily, through his teeth, he gritted:
βYou mean that, baby?β
Again, you nodded.
Momentarily forgetting the outline of his cock in your tummy, the thought of seeing you leaking his cum and squirming for more, it seemed, Joel just sank into you.
He bracketed his arms around your head like he had before, flattened his chest to yours, and fucked you.
It was primal. Needy. Wet. Insatiable. You probably looked feral and senseless, and neither of you cared.
Overhead, the strains of an old ZZ Top song reached a crescendo, and Joelβs eyes stayed locked on yours. His cock stretched you in a way that seemed implausibleβyou felt him from root to tip and could sense the oncoming pulses before they ever left a drop.
Then Joel kissed you. In his warm, soft, and loving way, his lips melded to yours and caressed them continually. Though it mightβve only lasted a few seconds, the effect was profound, and you found yourself pulling him deeper. Squeezing him tight and taking him whole.
βYou really wanna have a baby with me, Miller?β
βNope.β Joelβs response was instantaneous.
βWhββ
βEight kids, at least. You OK with that?β
If you werenβt on the verge of climax, you wouldβve laughed in his face. But because you were, and you happened to be head over heels in love with this man, you grinned, nodding. Joel smiled and kissed you again.
βAlright. First oneβs cominβ now if youβll justβoh, fuck.β
It seemed like Joel wanted to drag things out a little longer, but his body had other plans. Yours did, too.
Right as your walls clenched and your senses started to flood with those sweet, euphoric feelings, Joelβs cock throbbed once. Twice. Again and again, unleashing ropes of his cum in a seemingly endless stream. Your heels dug deep in Joelβs back, and your jaw fell open, instinctively. While that sticky-wet warmth filled your insides and Joel continued pounding away, a shriek clawed out from you.
It started as a cry and quickly morphed into a moan, shrill as anything: βPlease, baby. Please, please, please.β
You never thought youβd want to upend your life with a child before you even graduated from school or got a job.
Joel clearly hadnβt been planning for that either, and still, his voice was as slow and sweet as molasses in your ear.
βTake it all now, darlinβ. Thatβs it. Thatβs my girl. So good.β
He stroked your hair and emptied himself completely. His balls mustβve been drained, because you could sense what felt like a torrent of warmth between your legs.
When he pulled out, you both groaned at the sight.
Joel was drenched in his cum and yours. Dripping.
Still oozing a little at the tip, the old man was spent, and it appeared he was about to give himself a good shake and wipe it all off, when you stopped Joel in his tracks.
Your mouth watered as you watched him. You swallowed.
You didnβt even bother to ask for what you wanted, just stuck out your tongue and peered up with doe eyes.
Joel groaned and nodded. He shuffled closer and lowered himself in until his tip was at your mouth.
Your lips closed around him, and your head bobbed down. As his cock filled you whole, your mind went blank. It wasnβt even a matter of sucking him off or getting him clean; you just needed to feel and taste the cum that had sprayed your insides. You craved the scent of the sweet, affectionate man who was well over twice your age and still on board with giving you his babies.
Even if it was just a fantasy between you bothβ¦for now.
You hadnβt even realized your eyes had closed until your lips slipped off him with a pop, and your vision suddenly brightened. You eyed Joel curiously from below, and your heart skipped a beat when you could see he was smiling.
Before he could speak, or else try to clean you up any himself, your own lips twitched a little at the corners. Your gaze searched Joelβs with a soft, tender intensity, and for a second, you debated whether or not to say it.
Quickly, you made your choice.
Just as Joel was about to lean down to reach for his clothes, maybe search the floor for a clean t-shirt or towel to wipe you both down with, his eyes were still glued to yours, and your grin was slowly growing bigger.
Joel cocked a brow in question, and you went on ahead, fighting the urge to laugh while you said, sweet as ever:
βSoβ¦it looks like my little miniskirt trick actually worked.β
And if I said Reader got pregnant with twinsβ¦THEN WHAT
anything about jason being a man of few words is propaganda. unless heβs exhausted, heβll talk your ear off about the books heβs reading, his arguments with his brothers and teammates, the criminal operations heβs plotting on. heβs quick and witty, and has no qualms making fun of himself or you. you try your best to listen, honest β but sometimes you end up accidentally tuning him out. heβs not offended by this, donβt worry, and heβll fuck off if you get overstimulated.
but, god help you, his talkativeness absolutely extends to the bedroom. you cannot tune him out then.
every word makes your face hotter, your moans louder. he gets off on it shamelessly. heβs constantly mouthing off, talking about how good you look, how good you feel, how good you are for him. you donβt have to do a thing, pretty, just let him do all the work. the definition of βtalks you through itβ.
βthere she is, thereβs my girl. so pretty fβmeβ¦ god, baby, if you could see what i see. perfect little thing. iβd give you the moon, babyβ s-shit, stop squeezinβ me like that. gonna make me cum too quick, like a goddamn virgin. if i wasnβt fuckinβ you stupid right now, youβd think thatβs funny. whatβs that now? ah, ah, ah? uh, uh, uh? sound so fuckinβ cute, babyβ¦β
i donβt think heβs much of a moaner, honestly. i think heβll grunt, occasionally groan, but the real kicker? he whimpers when he cums.
βshit, βm so fucking close. gonna give it to me? yes, you can, i know you can. cβmon, baby, youβre right there. iβll rub your pretty clitβ there you go. oh, i know, sweet girl. cβmon, be so good for me. there it isβ fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckβ mmph!β
the only time you can guarantee silence is when youβre basking in the afterglow. once heβs sure youβre clean and physically/mentally okay, heβll pull you right back into him in bed. his favourite place to be is the crook of your neck. his lips will press a few sweet, soft kisses on your shoulder, but after that he just wants to lie there with you and breathe in your warmth.
I just know adrian lifts your hips off the bed just to grind into you freely
hes kinda unintentionally brusque and blunt about it too π«£
not like- on purpose of course, he's just very impulsive! so whenever he does it, maybe when the two of you are making out incredibly nasty on your bed or his (like, breathy and whiny noises filling the room, saliva dripping from your mouths, your hands gripping at his hair, glasses falling askew, his nails digging into the skin of your hips) it just knocks the air right out of you, the way he suddenly lifts your middle upwards and presses it down harshly against his
Adrian just thinks he's being efficient, he just wants to relieve some of the tension that is gathering right below the zipper of his jeans
but his brashness gives you whiplash, you have to scramble to grab on to him or his sweatshirt or literally anything to regain balance or a piece of mind, it makes an incredibly loud squeak of his name escape from your lips
he says "uuunngh here let me-" but he doesn't know the new angle is literally erasing every single thought from your head, that you cant even kiss him properly anymore because all your blood is flowing downwards, you just feel rather than hear the way his moans start to fill your mouth with warm air
he whimpers, says "ohhhh shit!!- this is so much better right? you see how hard my dick is? its literally hurting baby, fuck!- please i just wanna feel you" and you're trying to answer him like "y-yeah, Adrian , b- baby feels good-" but your breath is catching in your throat every time he grinds forward and rubs so directly against you, you might as well be fucking already
DAY TWO // FACE - FUCKING - πππππππππ πͺππππ π²πππ
Clark & you pay a visit to Arkham to interview an inmate - or, you try to but end up getting deepthroated.
cw: 18+, smut, deep throating, m!recieving oral, colleague!reader, exhibitionism, prison talk, choking, comedy, banter, sunshine x grump, m!masturbation, freaky!clark :D, is it voyeurism if he jerks off in front of your face? (2.1k wc)
"Sorry. Can't help ya."
The bars clanked in your face and you gasped, withdrawing your fists just in time before it took your hand with it too. "Littleβ¦.shitβ¦." You grumbled, shooting the Corrections Officer a dirty look before stomping back to the benches outside the holding room.
Where you were forced to sit for hours on end. Waiting for an inmate that was a no-show.
"I told you it wasn't gonna work." Clark speaks up from where he'd been half-perched by the railings. Looking out of the barricaded windows. "I already tried to reason with him."
"Oh forget you." You slumped onto the benches with an exaggerated exhale. Yanking your lanyard off your neck, letting the plastic clatter onto the metal.
"I can't believe this crap! What's the point of filling out a bazillion clearance forms just so they could leave us to rot here?"
Clark tips his head to look at you.
"β¦I filled out those forms." He points out, loosely gesturing at himself. It immediately stiffens and falls flat to his lap when you shoot him a death glare.
He adjusts his tie, crossing the room before settling down next to you. Easing back into a much more comfortable position with his thighs spread out.
"Let's just wait," Clark doesn't dare to turn to see the look on your face at his suggestion, knees bouncing idly, "what's so bad about that?"
Was he for real? The two of you had been in cesspool Arkham for hours on end. Scent of depravity dripping off the walls, and he wanted to bust out monopoly?
And then there were the violent, earthquake-adjacent shakes on the bench from his bouncing.
You snap, slapping your hand down onto his leg, finally annoyed by his incessant fidgeting.
"What's bad is that I'm bored out of my goddamn mind."
"Oh," he counters, folding his hands over his lap. "You must be in here all alone." He adds a tinge of a mocking edge in his voice. Though you knew it wasnβt snark and more of sulking that you didn't humour him.
You roll your eyes, folding your arms in an exaggerated flourish. "If you even so much as try to talk to me," you begin, making yourself as cosy as you could on the cracked, drab concrete walls. Shutting your eyes.
"I will stuff that stupid clown coloured tie into your mouth."
"What?" He squeaks, grabbing his tie protectively. Soothing it down like it needed comforting after your insult. "What's wrong with my tie?"
When Clark looks over, you were already nodding off.
β¦Seriously?
β
Nearly an hour passed. Or maybe two.
Clark had lost track of time. Now he was bored out of his mind, with you dozed off. "Come on Kent. It's a good idea." He looks up at the fluorescent lightings, mumbling to himself, "just one interview with the criminally insane nutjob."
He tries to get some shut-eye, leg crossed over the other. Head tipped back. It seems to work for a while, until he feels something bump him.
Clark turns to the source, who was lolling her head toward him. Forehead grazing his shoulders.
"Ohβ¦" Clark glances down where you were tipped towards him, a strained expression on your face. "Must be uncomfortable," he mutters, brows furrowed at your discomfort.
Carefully, Clark shifted, wrapping his arms around your shoulder. Steadying you as he uncrossed his legs so you could sleep a little more comfortably.
You'd instantly curled up on his lap, expression soothing in seconds.
He carefully tucks a fallen strand of your hair behind your ears, easing the furrow on your brows where there were lines of stress.
It was nice seeing you like this. Calmer.
That was until you shifted.
Turning in your sleep, nuzzling dangerously close to β
"Oh gosh. Oh no, no," he rasps, his jaw clenched when your cheeks rested directly onto where he tucked his dick into his boxers.
Clark gently attempts to nudge you back, just enough so you weren't in contact. But you were relentless. Moving in pure instinct, trailing the curve of your nose down the β oh god.
Your nose brushed up and down, in lazy little nudges against him like you were nuzzling into a pillow.
His breath hitched, watching you in horror. He could feel you everywhere. Your cheeks and nose and your lips taking in the outline of his quickly stiffening erection.
Clark's hand hovered, uncertainly, over your shoulders. He should stop you. He knew that. But the warmth of your breath, the pressure, the building pleasure was spreading through him like poison.
Far. Too. Good.
His chest rose and dipped quickly, panting shallow β instincts betraying him. His hips edge forward. Just slightly, rocking your face onto his hard-on.
The sheer pleasure that sent shudders down his spine terrified him to the point that he had a firm hand on your shoulders, jostling you awake.
You stirred awake groggily, annoyance splayed onto the single side eye you shot him. "The hell. You maniac." It comes as a mumble, not having registered that you were on his lap.
Clark jolts when your hand squarely rests next to your face. Something hard. You frowned a little. Blinking slowly at the sight of your fingers resting on his zipper fly. Hand sloping higher, and higher like it was being lifted by something.
Your brows furrowed. Slowly realising what exactly your palm was resting on. A bump that steadily rose harder and far too visible.
You thought about it once. And then sighed. Slumping back onto his lap. As if his hard-on was just a forehead rest. A bookend.
"Are you seriously just going back to sleep? Now? W-With me like this?!" he sputters when you actually close your eyes.
"Wake me when Officer Fuck-All comes back."
This was insane.
"Do not wake me again."
No, this was exactly like you to do. Reckless, nonchalant, and the very reason why he was having possibly one of the most intense boners of his life.
Clark says your name, desperate for you to acknowledge him.
He couldn't do this. Not when you were centimetres away from the problem.
"What did I just say?" You warn in annoyance, "just handle your business."
"In front of you?"
"My eyes are closed."
He scoffs in disbelief. Gaze fixed on your side profile, and the tent formed beside it. It was stupid, and something he'd never do.
Not usually, anyway.
The sound of his zipper has you flinching. Your eyes were still screwed shut, because there was no way Clark Kent of all people would go through with this.
Except you hadn't exactly gotten to meet a sleep-deprived Clark who'd been forced to sit out here with you for the past five hours and hadn't even slept more than two hours in their entire journey to the outskirts of Gotham.
Your lips tightened when you slide off his thigh a tad while he shucks himself out of his slacks. The shadow that cast your entire face was comically frightening, a warmth radiated from the sides of your cheeks.
Was he fucking with you? If he really did whip his dick out, you would've caught scent ofβ then came the sound of his hand twisting around flesh, rubbing.
A soft breath leaves you when his knuckles graze your nose at the motion of it going up and down. You swallow hard, eyes twitching at the weight of how hard you were keeping them shut.
"I know you aren't asleep." He grits through battered pants.
You considered feigning sleep.
"β¦How could I. You're churning butter there."
The sound of it was paralysing. Screaming at you, the dull thwacks that were making you squeeze your thighs harder.
Clenching to the rhythm of his stroking his cock in front of your face. Your curiosity gets the better of you, and you peek.
Jeβsus.
You try to focus on anything but the fact that the sight of him squeezing, flexing and rubbing his dick with urgency was making your pussy ache with need.
You bite down on your lips. The pink of your tongue licking over your lips. You tip your head up, and your breath stills.
He was lookingβ¦right at you.
He was stroking his cock, while looking at you.
You faltered, heart pounding in your ears β cheeks warming at the absurdity and just how much it turning you on. So you inch forward, lips grazing the length.
Holding your gaze with his, you kitten lick at the base. And he chokes a breath.
He loosens his hold, letting you mouth at him without his hands blocking. Clark's knuckles graze down the side of your jaw, shaking his head in disbelief.
"Think I'mβ¦dreaming."
Your hand curls at your thighs, a slight smirk quirking up your lips, "yeah. Lucky you." Clark's hips stutter when your mouth wraps around it, swirling your tongue at the slit.
A low groan rips through him, and he grounds himself, carding your fingers through your hair.
You pull out, a string of saliva following before you sink back, bobbing your head up and down.
"U-Urgh! W-Wait.."
You feel his hands tremble at the back of your head as you hollow your cheeks. His eyes damn near roll back.
Clark feels the steady build of pleasure in his balls when your soft, warm mouth threatens to unravel him.
"C-Careful," he manages when you gag while trying to take him far in.
He was getting far too lost, to the point he'd only now managed to pick up the low thuds from the corner of the halls.
"Shoot. Oh shoot."
You let out a confused hum on his cock still. Clark reaches over for his suit jacket that was left abandoned beside him.
He throws the fabric over your head, pushing you down further into his cock, unwittingly. Your nails dig into his thighs with how he was lodged in your throat for a split second.
Clark briefly groans loudly, and it turns into a cough when Guard Boles stops to look at him.
"You the reporter? Pig-tails got er'self in trouble again. Try tomorrow."
Boles turns, then stops. Looking at your figure draped on Clark's lap, gesturing at you.
"She alright?"
"Yββ¦yes. Yeah, just asleep." He grits, strained, when you swallow. His cock pulsing in your throat.
You were dizzy. Couldn't breathe, but Clark was holding you so damn tight, like if you moved, he might break.
So you had. The second the footsteps fade, Clark yanks off the jacket.
Only to be met with the sight of you nose deep with his dick in your throat. Corners of your eyes streaked with you mascara running.
The correct thing to do would've been to ask if you were okay.
What he did instead was to buck his hips up.
You whine, and Clark curls his palm at the back of your neck. Pulling out and thrusting his hips up.
"O-Oh gosh," he sputters, not stopping as he keeps his pace. Your tongue twirls his girth.
You were so soft, warm, and β "Ugh!" Clark's head falls back. Gathering a lock of your hair to fuck your face steadily. You fist at his shirt, mind going blank as you try to breathe through your nose.
"Hhβhrkββ¦"
Clark seems to notice your struggle, expression twisting. "IβI'm sorry. I'm sorry β" he slams his fists down onto the metal bench that bent beneath his grip.
"I'm sorryβ" he croaks shakily.
It hits you without warning, cum spurting at the back of your throat in steady pulses. Clark pulls you off his cock suddenly, dribbles of his cum stringing to your tongue.
You catch your breath, coughing after having swallowed his cum down to the last drop. You slump onto his lap.
Clark pants through his orgasm, tucking himself back inside. "You with me?" He mutters, adjusting you a little more comfortably, combing your hair away from his face.
You nod as best as you can, eyes fluttering shut to the gentle dabs of him cleaning your face up.
In this story, this is Michael essentially coming out to Dave, though he won't recall or will deny it happen. And both Dave also just not wanting to make matters awkward and worse, he too will pretend it didn't happen. When he accepts and feels relief to admit it, all the regret and guilt of him two-timing Trevor comes barreling down on him.
In the aftermath, Dave will let Michael rest until he is sobered up and Dave will crash on a couch in the meantime. The next morning, Mike will not remember a thing and will be shocked to see Dave with coffee and maybe a breakfast bagel. Mike will nervously joke if Dave and him do something and Dave will be like haha no no no. Dave will play it off like nothing extreme happened and try to be professional about it to have some control over the situation.
kianamaiart
origamiaround
blakekathryn
2087
