I LOVEEEEE HOUSE TOUR!!!!! that was truly a masterpiece!!! could you do something similar but it be juno and kind of the trend where whatever pose she does joe and reader have to do. but maybe make it like the night he gets cuffed so maybe they could use them?? and also obviously joe doesn't know it's a trend so he's super frazzled by the reader saying it and gets "excited" from the moment he realizes what's going to happen later. thank youuuuu 💋
"Have you ever tried this one"
⋆⭒˚.⋆ Joe Keery x reader ⋆⭒˚.⋆
english is not my language please be kind and sorry if i wrote wrong :) requests are closed!
summary: Joe gets arrested by Sabrina at her concert, you take them home and recreate the Juno pose later
warnings: Explicit sexual content, handcuffs, bondage, public arousal, smut, 18+
You and Joe had been looking forward to this night for weeks. Sabrina Carpenter’s Short n’ Sweet tour had sold out in minutes, but Joe had scored two floor tickets somehow, probably through a friend of a friend in the industry, and the second he’d shown them to you, his grin had been pure mischief.
“We’re going,” he’d said, already pulling you in by the waist. “And you’re wearing something that makes me regret every decision that keeps me from bending you over before we even leave the house.”
You’d chosen a tight black dress that stopped mid-thigh, the kind that clung to every curve and made the silver chain around your neck rest just above the soft push of your cleavage. Joe had taken one look at you in the mirror while he fixed his own dark jeans and half-unbuttoned shirt and groaned.
“Fuck, we’re going to be late.”
You weren’t late, you made it just as the lights dropped and the first notes of the opener rolled through the arena. The crowd was already screaming. You stood pressed against Joe’s side, his hand low on your back, fingers occasionally sliding under the hem of your dress just enough to brush the bare skin of your thigh. Every time he did it, heat licked up your spine.
Halfway through the set, Sabrina appeared in a glittering bodysuit, blonde hair swinging, and the energy in the room went nuclear. Joe was laughing, singing along off-key, the way he always did when he was genuinely happy. You watched him more than the stage, the way the stage lights caught the freckles across his nose, the way his throat worked when he swallowed, the easy roll of his shoulders under that open shirt.
The lights shifted into soft pink. Sabrina walked toward the edge of the stage, scanning the floor with a slow, deliberate look.
“So I’m gonna look really hard tonight and see who I see… who’s that?” she said, stopping right in front of you and Joe. Her eyes locked on him. “Oh my goodness, wait. What’s your name?”
“Joe!” he called up, already grinning.
“Joe? Hi Joe, where are you from?”
“Boston!”
“Boston? Damn it, rhymes with Austin though! It’s close enough…” She smiled, voice dropping into pure mischief. “You know Joe, it’s actually cuffing season, I don’t know if you know that, it’s like we’re getting...”
She didn’t even finish the sentence, Joe already had both arms lifted toward her, wrists out, ready.
Sabrina burst out laughing. “You seem very eager actually… this is so rare. Okay, you’re the one, we did it, Joe.”
She handed him the fuzzy pink handcuffs. Joe caught them, still smiling, cheeks flushed under the lights.
Sabrina turned back to the crowd, pointing at him one last time. “I’m gonna sing this next song, this is dedicated to Joe, everybody, it’s called Juno.”
The opening chords hit and the arena exploded.
She winked at you over his shoulder, mouthed lucky, and vaulted back onto the stage while Joe stood there looking both delighted and slightly dazed, the handcuffs still hanging from his fingers.
He turned to you, eyes bright. “Did that just happen?”
He handed you the cuffs, the metal still warm from Sabrina’s hand, and you slipped them into the small bag you carried.
“Apparently you’re a public menace.”
Joe’s hand found the small of your back again, lower this time.
“Only for you.”
The rest of the set blurred in a haze of bass and lights. You danced against him, his chest solid behind you, his mouth occasionally brushing your ear when the music dipped. Every time your ass pressed back into him you felt the thick ridge of his cock starting to thicken against the curve of your lower back. He never said anything, just breathed harder, fingers tightening on your hip.
The crowd screming the song with her, Joe sang along, still loose and happy, still not clocking what was coming. You knew the choreography. Everyone online did. When Sabrina hit the line "have you ever tried this one" she dropped into that infamous pose: knees bent, back arched hard, one hand sliding down the front of her body like she was showing exactly how she wanted to be touched, the other lifting her hair off her neck as she rolled her hips in a slow, filthy circle.
Joe went still behind you.
You turned just enough to look at him, his eyes were locked on the stage, then flicked down to you, then back. Realization hit him in real time. You watched it happen, the slight parting of his lips, the way his throat bobbed, the sudden, unmistakable press of his cock against your ass as the full meaning of the trend landed.
You leaned up, lips against the shell of his ear so only he could hear.
“Later, at home. we are doing that... with these.” You patted the bag where the cuffs sat. “Every single time she hits that line, you’re going to remember what I’m going to make you do.”
Joe’s breath left him in a rough exhale. “Jesus Christ.”
He didn’t know it was a trend, he only knew that the second those words left your mouth, his entire body locked into a state of hyper-aware, half-terrified arousal. Joe’s hand on your hip twitched.
Every time you ground back against him, he made a low sound that got lost in the music. By the final chorus he was hard enough that you could feel the full shape of him through his jeans, thick and insistent, and his free hand had slipped under the back of your dress to grip the bare cheek of your ass like he needed the anchor.
The car ride home was electric.
Joe drove with one hand on the wheel, the other on your thigh, higher and higher until his fingers brushed the damp lace between your legs. You didn’t stop him. You spread a little wider and watched the muscle in his jaw jump.
“You’re already wet,” he said, voice rough. “From the concert?”
“From watching you realize what was going to happen.” You reached over and cupped him through his jeans, squeezing the hard length. “From feeling this the whole second half of the show.”
Joe swore under his breath and pressed the accelerator.
The second the apartment door shut behind you, he had you against it. Mouth open and hungry, tongue sliding against yours, one hand already shoving your dress up around your waist. The handcuffs clinked in the bag as it hit the floor.
“Clothes off,” he ordered against your mouth. “Now.”
You stripped for him slowly, deliberately, dress first, then the lace bra, then the soaked panties. Joe watched like a man starving, already working his own shirt open, jeans shoved down just enough to free his cock. It sprung heavy and flushed against his stomach, the head already shiny.
You stepped in close, took the handcuffs from the bag, and held them up between you.
“On the bed,” you said. “On your back.”
Joe’s eyes darkened. He obeyed without a word, stretching out across the sheets, arms above his head without being asked. You straddled his hips, the wet heat of your cunt hovering just above the thick shaft of his cock, and clicked one cuff around his right wrist, the other around the left, then looped the chain through the metal headboard so he was locked in place.
He tested the restraint once. The metal rattled. His cock jerked against your inner thigh.
“You’re really doing this,” he said, voice already frayed.
“I’m really doing this.” You leaned down and kissed him, slow and filthy, while you reached between your bodies and guided the head of his cock through your folds, coating him in the slick that had been building since the middle of the concert.
Joe’s hips lifted helplessly. “Fuck...yes. Okay. Whatever you want.”
You sank down onto him in one slow, continuous slide.
The stretch was immediate and perfect, thick enough that your breath caught, deep enough that you felt him in your stomach. Joe’s head tipped back against the pillow, a broken sound ripping out of him as your cunt swallowed every inch. You stayed seated fully for a long moment, rolling your hips in tiny circles so he could feel how wet you already were, how your walls fluttered around him.
Then you lifted almost all the way off and dropped back down hard.
Joe’s cuffed hands flexed. “Shit...go slow or I’m not going to last.”
You didn’t go slow.
You rode him with deliberate, nasty intent, grinding down so your clit dragged against the base of his cock on every stroke, lifting high enough that the head nearly slipped free before you slammed back onto him. The wet sound of it filled the room. Joe’s thighs tensed under you, his cock throbbing inside you every time you clenched.
“Look at me,” you ordered.
His eyes opened, glassy and dark. You reached back and braced your hands on his thighs, arched your back the exact way Sabrina had, and rolled your hips in that same slow, filthy circle while you were still full of him.
Joe’s entire body shuddered. “fuck....”
You did it again, and again.
Riding him in the exact choreography of the song, back arched, tits pushed forward, one hand sliding down your own stomach to circle your clit while the other lifted your hair off your neck the way she had. Every time you hit the deepest point you clenched hard around him and watched his face fall apart.
“You’re going to come like this,” you told him. “With me doing the pose on your cock.”
Joe’s hips snapped up to meet every downward grind. The handcuffs rattled against the headboard with every thrust. Sweat was already starting to gleam on his chest, freckles dark against flushed skin.
“I’m close,” he warned, voice wrecked. “You’re so fucking tight....god, the way you’re moving....”
You leaned forward, braced your hands on either side of his head, and fucked him harder, short, sharp rolls of your hips that kept him buried deep while your clit rubbed against him on every stroke. The orgasm hit you first, sudden and vicious, your cunt clamping down around his cock in rhythmic pulses that dragged a broken shout out of him.
Joe came a second later, hips locking, cock pulsing hard as he spilled inside you in thick, hot ropes. You kept rolling through it, milking every last spurt out of him until his thighs were shaking and the only sound left was both of you breathing hard.
You stayed seated on him while he softened slightly inside you, then carefully unlocked one cuff so you could free his wrists. The second his hands were free he sat up, wrapped both arms around you, and kissed you like he was still coming down from something seismic.
“My turn,” he said against your mouth.
He flipped you onto your back with zero warning, shoved a pillow under your hips, and spread your thighs wide. His come was already starting to leak out of you; he watched it for a second, then pushed two fingers inside and scooped some of it back up, pressing it against your clit.
“Stay just like that,” he ordered. “Legs open. I want to see everything while I do this.”
Joe knelt between your spread thighs, still half-hard, and arched his own back the exact way the choreography demanded; chest forward, hips rolling in a slow, filthy circle, one hand sliding down the front of his body to fist his cock while the other lifted through his hair. He looked at you the entire time, eyes heavy-lidded, and the second the words left his mouth they were wrecked with leftover pleasure.
You reached between your legs and rubbed your clit in time with the roll of his hips. “Again.”
He did it again and again, until his cock was fully hard once more, shiny with the mix of both of you, and he couldn’t stand not being inside you.
Joe crawled over you, lined himself up, and sank back in with one long thrust. The angle was deeper this time, the pillow under your hips letting him bottom out on every stroke. He fucked you slow at first, long, dragging pulls that made you feel every ridge, then harder, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the room.
“Cuffs,” you managed between moans.
He didn’t hesitate, he grabbed them, clipped one around your right wrist, the other around your left, and pinned both hands above your head with one of his own. The metal bit into your skin just enough to sting. Joe’s other hand slid under your ass, tilting you higher so he could drive into you at the exact angle that made your vision spark.
“You’re going to come on my cock again,” he said against your throat. “And then I’m going to flip you over and fuck you from behind while you’re still cuffed.”
You came harder the second time, body locking up, cunt fluttering around him in tight waves that made him curse and bury himself to the hilt. Joe kept thrusting through it, chasing his own second orgasm, until he pulled out at the last second, stroked himself twice, and painted your stomach and the undersides of your tits with thick ropes of come.
He stayed kneeling over you for a long moment, chest heaving, then carefully unlocked the cuffs and gathered you against him.
You weren’t done.
An hour later, after water and a half-hearted attempt at cleaning up, Joe had you on your knees on the bed, wrists cuffed behind your back this time. He stood behind you, one hand in your hair, the other guiding his cock between your lips.
“Open,” he said quietly. “I want to feel that mouth while I think about you doing the pose on stage in front of thousands of people. Just for me.”
You took him deep on the first stroke, the head of his cock pressing into the back of your throat. Joe’s fingers tightened in your hair. He fucked your mouth in slow, controlled thrusts, watching the way your lips stretched around him, the way saliva started to drip down your chin. Every few strokes he pulled out completely so you could catch your breath, then pushed back in until your nose brushed the soft hair at the base of his cock.
“Good girl,” he murmured. “Just like that, take it.”
When he finally pulled free, shiny and dripping, he guided you onto your stomach, still cuffed, and shoved a pillow under your hips again so your ass was tilted up. He spread you open with both hands and licked a long, filthy stripe from your clit all the way up to your hole, tongue pushing inside for a second before he replaced it with the head of his cock.
Joe sank into you from behind in one smooth thrust and immediately started fucking you the way the song demanded, hips rolling in that same circular grind, back arched, one hand sliding down his own stomach so you could feel the motion of it even if you couldn’t see. Every time he bottomed out he stayed there for a second and ground deep, the way Sabrina had rolled her hips on stage, until you were shaking and dripping around him.
“Have you ever tried this one,” he said, voice low and wrecked, and then he did it again, exactly the same motion, exactly the same filthy intention, while his cock throbbed inside you.
You came so hard your arms strained against the cuffs. Joe followed a handful of thrusts later, burying himself to the hilt and flooding you again, the excess already starting to drip down your thighs by the time he carefully unlocked your wrists and gathered you into his chest.
The rest of the night blurred into more of the same; Joe on his back again with the cuffs clipped to the headboard while you rode him through a third orgasm; you on all fours with your wrists bound while he took you slow and deep from behind, murmuring against the back of your neck every time he rolled his hips just right; both of you sticky and spent and still reaching for each other in the dark.
By the time the first light of morning started filtering through the curtains, the handcuffs were lying open on the nightstand, the sheets were ruined, and Joe’s mouth was pressed to the side of your throat, still whispering the same filthy promise every time his fingers drifted between your legs again.
“Have you ever tried this one.”
You had, multiple times. and you were already planning on trying it again the second either of you could move.
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