→ When your fridge breaks down in the middle of the day, you don’t really have a choice but to ask your grumpy old neighbour.
In the car, in the car in the backseat, i’m your baby*
→ it’s summer break at your house and your daddys best friend is also there. The one you wanted to fuck for so long and finally you got the chance.
Behind the tree*
→ after Joel and you got interrupted in the morning, he takes care of it on patrol.
Under his mercy
→ you think it‘s time to let go, you suffered enough and as you find peace and close your eyes, you hear footsteps. Joel miller takes you and saves you, but at what cost?
Millers wood carvings*
→ You want a wood carved present for your dad. Luckily Mr. Miller from Millers Wood Carvings shop is there to help.
First touch*
→ you’re unexperienced and Joel takes your virginity. Some very soft, caring and sweet sex!
What daddy wants, he gets*
→ Joel is insatiable when it comes to you. He has to have you, every damn hour and day. And you are always, desperately ready for him whenever that‘s the case.
Cherry pie*
→ After countless dates with a boy, you know that next time you’re going to sleep with him. But you’re way too inexperienced. So what better way is there than showing up at Joel Miller’s door with cherry pie in hand, and asking if he’s willing to help you out?
Sugar for Repairs*
→ Your car breaks down on a scorching Texas day, and Joel Miller—a sleazy, perverted mechanic—offers to fix it. You can’t afford the price, but Joel’s got other ways to settle debts. You agree once…then come back, heartbroken. This time, he says it’s free. But you? You’re not done wanting.
His to keep* (dark!joel)
→ Since the day Joel found you bleeding on his doorstep, he’s kept you…fed, warm, quiet. All he asks in return is obedience: to him, his rules, and the chart. But when you sneak out—when you break the one rule that really matters—you’re not just wondering how he’ll punish you. You’re wondering if he’ll make you beg for it.
Big mouth*
→ you’re trouble in red lipstick and skimpy dresses. He’s restraint wrapped in flannel and grumpiness. One patrol, one dare, and a tension that hums beneath every glance, every silence, every step through the woods. You always push. He always resists. But even restraint has its limits—especially when temptation bends over rocks, leaves kisses on paper, and asks to be taken while they’re forced to sit in silence in a small room.
Like a Stray Cat* pt. 1 / pt. 2
→ you tiptoe into Joel Miller’s home like a stray cat, always giving him a heart attack, always flashing those doe eyes, tear-spilled and aching, and making his heart twist. So he protects you—cares for you, cooks for you, calls you pet names. But that night feels different. Heavy. There’s an ache crawling through your body, one you don’t understand and can’t quiet. You try. You fail. And when you get caught—by the same man who just called you “kiddo”—you can’t help but ask him for help.
Daddy, i'm sorry*
→ Joel sits downstairs, reading by the stove, trying to pretend he doesn’t hear the footsteps of his son’s girlfriend. Trying to pretend he doesn’t remember what the two of you have done and feel. But when you appear in the dark—barefoot, wide-eyed, floaty-headed and call him Daddy like you still mean something by it, he knows you’re about to break the rules again.
His little Wife*
→ Joel Miller comes home to the one thing he’ll always admit he needs—his little wife, waiting with warm pie and that soft, obedient sweetness that belongs only to him.
The laundry Load*
→ Joel catches himself always staring as you walk over in that flimsy sundress, smile sweet as pie tugging at his restraint. Those pink panties you 'forget' on his bathroom floor? They shouldn’t make his pulse race, or have thoughts he shouldn’t entertain. It’s only laundry, but each visit leaves him harder, hungrier, and his restraint cracking further.
Little Fawn*
→ In a camp where survival depends on silence and obedience, you hide in the supplies tent, trying to outrun the shadow of the man who once pulled you out of the woods and claimed you as his own. But when a cruel voice cuts too deep and old wounds split open, you retreat to the only place you can fall apart unseen—only to find Joel stepping into the dark after you, his presence a reminder of the bond you shouldn’t want, and the one you can’t seem to break.
Strawberry Field*
→ Daddy Joel knows how much your period hurts you. So he takes you to the strawberry field he found. He carries you when your legs give out, feeds you berries one by one, wipes the juice from your chin with his thumb. All he wants is to make you feel better, to remind you that you're his sweet, whiney girl.
Series ♥︎
How to Disappear*
→ after the passing of your mom, you and your dads best friend get close. He understands you because he also once lost something. But Joel is an old man, guilt and the fear of losing you too, overwhelms him. So he leaves you.
@/coffeguitar*
→ After the loss of your father—your best friend—you create an account on the Message Heaven: Lonely Hearts Group forum, hoping to find someone to talk to. Joel Miller, a middle-aged man who lost his daughter and happens to be obsessed with coffee, writes to you. From the very first message, it feels like something just clicks between you.
Ache Beneath the Sleaze*
→ Joel Miller lives out in his beat up van, smells like smoke and sweat, and talks filth like it’s his second language. You’re supposed to be just fuck buddies—no strings, no feelings, just pleasure and orgasms in the backseat. He’s sleazy, shameless, and always has a cigarette hanging from his mouth, he fucks so good you keep coming back. But somewhere between highs and thrusts—it’s starting to feel like more. And neither of you are ready to admit it.
Joel Miller x Jack Abbott collection:
Sex Pollen*
→ It wasn’t supposed to happen. One wrong turn past the perimeter, one breath of unknown, drifting pollen, and suddenly Joel is pounding on Jack Abbott’s door with you burning up in his arms. Now it’s the middle of the night, the town's asleep, and the only medic who won’t report the two of you is the one staring at you down like he already knows this is going to get real bad.
Blurbs ♥︎
Softdom!Joel*
→ What happens if reader is bratty all day long? Joel takes care of it.
Needy*
→ You and Joel are fuck buddies…that‘s it!
sweet, stuffed mess*
→ Joel repeatedly fucking and breeding his girl.
sweat, soup and stubborness
→ Joel is sick, but he just won’t accept it.
happy birthday, old man
→ it’s Joel Miller’s 62th birthday
Deep*
→ Throat fucking special for my birthday!
Drabbels ♥︎
Joel survives
Little belly bulge thought*
Pregnancy reveal drabble
Random dbf!drabble*
Horny thought about cockwarming*
Random thought about old man Joel*
Thoughts about pussy spanking*
Cockwarming*
Somnophilia*
Requests ♥︎
throat fucking -> Joel fucks your throat as a punishment.
Bubble bath -> after a long day of work, Joel helps you relax.
Jealous? -> you’re drunk, and Joel is jealous.
Makin‘ you a Mama* -> Joel discovers how much he would like to see you pregnant.
My Old Man -> Joel battles with the thought that he is way too old for you.
Sweet evening -> Joel takes care of his girl, whenever they are at an event.
It’s okey. -> Joel’s girl has anxiety. And he knows exactly how to help her.
Over his knee* -> Joel punishes his girl.
Safe word* -> a Punishment gone wrong.
cruel* -> Joel punishes you, but he is very mean
You forget, he reminds* -> Pregnancy makes you forget how beautiful you are—Joel reminds.
Let him hear* -> to make Joel jealous, you fuck his brother Tommy.
Daddy takes care the best -> Joel’s girl is sick, and he takes care of her.
Back of the bar* -> a relationship meant to be a secret, gets revealed when Joel can’t help himself.
Forth times the charm* /pt. 2* -> every time you meet up with your ex-husband Joel, you end up pregnant.
Break me* -> Dom Joel fucking reader very rough for her anxious mind.
Sorting you out* -> Joel sorting ovulating reader out.
Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI)
Summary: Your neighbor plays his cello way too fucking late, and all you want to do is get off and get to sleep...
Warnings: smut, masturbation, cello lessons, grey sweatpants, hot neighbor, voyeurism due to thin walls, bach, i have zero clue about this character but i want to fuck him, riding, unprotected p in v, finger fucking and sucking, like he HAS to be good with his hands right?!, written in a fevered few hours, i feel like that jon hamm gif
Words: 3,000
A/N: Did I fuck off and ignore work for a few hours to write this? Yes. Am I going to have to pay for it by working tonight? Yes. Is it worth it? I don't know man, I'm horny af for this new character. Siri, play "Fresh Out The Slammer" because I feel rejuvenated in my delusional porn writing. Gif made by me because I'm that fucking insane.
Masterlist
—-
The notes mock you, mock the catch of your breath, the beat of your heart, the way your fingers move across your clit, pressing and swirling. You’re so close, and yet so far. Your trusty vibrator, rose, and grinder sit discarded on your quilt. The mournful music filtering in through the thin bungalow walls and windows is not helping. So close. So far. Your orgasm drowns again.
You slap your hand down against your stomach, killing the last vestige of your mood and roll off the bed. You just wanted ONE singular orgasm, something to take the edge off. But no, there’s a sad cello playing some sort of depressing, somber thing that just leaves you even more frustrated.
You check your phone and grumble. 11:39. Who fucking needs Vivaldi or Bach this loud after eleven?
Your new neighbor, apparently.
You don’t even bother to close your robe when you stomp out into the damp night. Your bare feet squelch in the wet grass, and you don’t care. The music gets louder when you get to your neighbor’s door. It’s nice? You guess. You don’t even know anymore.
You pound on his door. Three rasps. You give your neighbor time. Nothing. So you pound again. Until the music stops. Footsteps get closer, floorboards creak.
The door opens, just like your jaw drops. Dark hair slicks back from a face that the gods might as well have sculpted. Sharp cheekbones, strong nose, plush lips, big brown eyes. He’s in a black tank top, ridiculously broad shoulders escaping the flimsy fabric. His gray sweatpants hang loose on his hips. His whole look suggests either a strategic carelessness or a total lack of giving a shit. It might be due to how fucking horny you are, but your new neighbor could be the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.
His dark eyes size and assess you. Your robe. The flimsy, light pink tank top sticking to your skin, the short, barely there sleep shorts with tiny, green polka dots. Your hair’s probably a mess, your skin still damp with a sweat of frustration. He looks almost amused at the sight of you, but his eyes linger a little longer than propriety should suggest at your thighs.
“Can I help you?” he asks. Deep, kinda dark, like a freshly poured cup of your favorite coffee.
“It’s la—” your voice squeaks. You clear your throat, square your shoulders. “It’s late. Your music. It’s… loud. Some of us have to, you know. Sleep.”
He leans on the doorframe, folds his arms, and your eyes square in on the way his biceps bulge, the line of his forearms. “Sleep,” he says.
“Yes. That’s right. It’s past 11.”
“Didn’t think it was that loud.”
“Could you turn it down at least?”
A thick eyebrow arches up. “Guess these walls are paper-thin. I suppose I could use a different bow.”
There’s no shame in his voice, no apology, and it just irks you more. You wobble a bit in the way he looks at you, half wanton desire, half boredom.
“I’d… appreciate that.”
“Mm,” he says, and his lip quirks up in a maddeningly handsome smirk… like he knows he’s gorgeous and getting under your skin. “You best get back to… sleep,” he says.
You nod, because you have no other fucking clue how to respond under his heated, cocky gaze and the revelation that the music was being played by him and not a too-loud stereo.
The silk of your robe swishes across your hot skin as you make your way across the grass to your bungalow. You’re sure your neighbor’s watching you the whole way and you don’t dare look back.
He keeps his word, you can barely hear the music when you lie back down in bed. Fuck him for being beautiful. Your whole body is still reverberating from the baritone rasp of his voice. You press a pillow over your face and scream an annoyed sound into it, as the heat of his gaze still blooms across your body.
At least now all you can hear is nothing but the sound of your breathing, picking up when the heel of your hand slinks its way back between your thighs. Jesus Christ, you’re even wetter now. You’re leaking a frustrating hunger, the image of your neighbor’s big shoulders and golden skin playing in your mind. You imagine his biceps pinning you down and his thick fingers hooking against your waist as he pounds into you.
“Fuck,” you whisper, picturing his wide palm against your mouth. You wonder what he sounds like when he cums, is it as sad and tragic sounding as the music he plays?
God, it’s so easy now. Your body’s arching up, desperate to feel how soft his tank-topped chest is when it’s shoved against your chest. You can almost feel him, the weight of him atop you, his dark eyes searing into you as you edge yourself closer and closer. You’re pressing needy circles against your clit, your thighs tensing and toes curling. “Fuck, fuck,” you moan out, too loud for your own good and the silence of your own bungalow. Your hips are moving against your hand harder, faster, and when you think of that damned smirk of his and the way he’d watch you shatter apart for him, you orgasm, hard and hot and loud. “Oh fuck, godddd,” you moan. You don’t even care. You want him to hear it. Maybe he will, with the thin walls. Maybe he won’t, because he’s too busy playing that damned music. Maybe he heard a hint, and now he’s sat, frozen in his chair, bow in one hand, listening to your own symphony between the walls.
—-
Two nights of silence, and then you hear it… a loud cat-like moan around 11 PM. Followed by another high-pitched mew. “Aleeeeex,” the shrill sounds. “Oh god, Alex.”
So, your hot neighbor’s name is Alex.
A rhythmic thumping starts up against your wall, fast, brutal, not sweet. You can’t help yourself as you move towards the wall, listening in for any type of low grunt or groan, but there’s nothing… just a repetitive smack of wood against drywall and the squealing of a woman.
You roll over, turn on your speaker, and pick up your phone. You know the perfect song. You scroll to the B’s in your music, find Cello Suite no. 2 by Bach, and let the sad, melancholy play… loud.
The pace just behind the shared wall picks up, and the wails of the woman speed up, along with the tapping against the wall. Now it’s your time to smirk, take that, Alex, and whoever he’s decided to fuck.
And when the roaring sadness of the music slows and quiets at a point… you hear it. A long, low groan timed perfectly to the song, almost like he was waiting for it.
You feel the angry roar of want in your body at the sound of him and let the song fade out as you reach into your drawer and pull out your vibrator.
—-
The next night, the cello is back, at 11 on the dot. Louder. Like it’s back to mock you. You shake your head and smile, willing it not to bother you as you turn in bed and put a pillow over your ear, but even through the muffled down, you recognize the song. It’s Cello Suite no. 2, just like you played him last night.
Damn, he’s talented. You have to give him that.
By 11:30, he hasn’t stopped, and the cello almost plays like a siren song to you and your sleepy, horny frustrations. You step out into the night air, and you swear the cool air hisses against your heated skin. No robe this time, just you and your light blue silky, short nightdress, complete with the lace trim across your breasts.
You punch at his door again, then stand back, arms crossed. You’re sure your nipples are pressing against the thin fabric, and you don’t care.
He answers almost instantly, and good lord, he’s only in a pair of boxers and a loose, button-up shirt.
“You’re playing on purpose now, aren’t you?” you ask him, no greeting, just attitude.
“I need to practice. Figured you’d like to hear it.”
You snort. “So why that song?”
His hand rests against the doorframe and he looms over you. “Thought I’d return the favor of last night.”
You roll your eyes and huff. “Thanks.”
He turns his head back to his living room, then back at you, deep brown eyes searing into you. “Come in. I’ll play you something else.”
“It’s late.”
“It’s not like you were going to sleep anyway.”
You don’t say anything, you just walk past him into his place. It’s neat, in order, vintage furniture with modern touches. His bow is discarded on the floor, the cello leaning against the wall.
He lifts his hand, guides you to his couch, a soft, buttery leather that dips when you settle on it, mindful of just how short your nightdress is. He bends to pick up the bow, and your throat goes dry as you stare at his ass. You blink yourself back to reality as he takes a seat and places his cello between his legs. God, his legs, strong and dusted with hair, he looks to be golden all over.
He begins playing. Something you don’t recognize, but it’s smooth and sultry. Your heart and body answer, heating and beating with each note of music that flows from the instrument.
Alex doesn’t look up, he’s transfixed by the music he plays, and you’re just as spellbound. You’re sure you’re breathing hard, sure your pulse is thrumming along to the song. You don’t know how long you sit like that, mesmerized by the music and the man. If this is how he looks as he plays, then you’ll surely sacrifice the nights of sleep, just to let this beauty out into the world.
His head tips back, neck straining as his head lulls back and forth, caught in the notes, and when he looks at you, dark brown eyes meeting yours, you know he can see the way your chest is rising and falling, the heat of your stare. He gifts you one of those damned smirks, but this time it’s different. It’s heated and full of desire. He watches you watch him, and you can’t look away. Every note he plays flows through you, from your ears to between your thighs.
Alex’s arm slows, the bow stopping, and the last warble of the strings escapes the cello. He sets the cello against the wall with reverence, his loose shirt gapes open as he turns, exposing golden chest and a dark line of hair. You try to adjust how you’re sitting, the leather couch sticking to you with the heat of your thighs.
His eyes roam over you, from your bare legs up to your chest, up, up, finally meeting your eyes again. He licks his lips, pink tongue against his plush bottom lip. He smiles, hot, knowing, painfully cocky. “Did you like it?” he asks.
You answer with a bobble of your head. Any type of words would just fail to be husked out of your dry throat. Goodness, you want him. You want him a way that’s almost embarrassing in the desperate, feral way you do.
"You want to try to play?" he asks.
You’re silent again, just another nod sent to him.
He pats his thighs, beckons you over, and you rise and pad towards him, going to exactly where he wants you. He parts his legs, and you straddle his lap, your back meeting his chest. You’re painfully aware of the silk of your dress clinging to the arch of your ass, the way your thighs bracket his, his skin meeting your skin. You move, hoping he can’t feel how wet you are for him, but you hear the small grunt, and you know he absolutely can.
He picks up the cello and sets it between both of you, the smooth wood is cool against your thigh. He wraps his arms around your waist, enveloping you in his strong arms, his chest flexing against your back.
You’re glitching, absolutely dumbstruck by how gentle and low his voice is as he places your fingers over the strings. “Here,” he whispers, guiding your hand to the cello’s neck. “Thumb here. Not too tight.” His hands are big and hot. His breath fans across your ear, and it makes you shiver.
“Now, try,” he says, handing you the bow. You attempt to make a song, but you’re so heady off the closeness of him that you’re too clumsy to do anything right. The bow draws across the strings, and it’s… like a car crash of a note, but he tightens his arms and chuckles low against your ear.
“Again,” he whispers, and you try. This time, the note is softer, a pleasant hum leaves the cello. “Good,” he says, lips grazing against your earlobe. He rewards you by letting his hand skim against your thigh.
There’s a shared hunger, an almost understanding, guided by the music and want that’s drifted between the walls. You melt and tense at the same time, and you feel the press of his cock against you when you tilt back and press yourself into him.
He slides his hand up, rucking up the hem of your dress. “You still want to play?”
You’re dizzy, barely holding onto the bow. “No.”
“Then set the bow down.”
You obey, letting it clatter to the floor. He takes the cello from between your legs and sets it aside while keeping you still locked against him, hand splayed against your belly. “Spread your legs,” Alex tells you.
You instantly spread, letting him slip his palm between you and trace your soaked pussy through the wispy layer of your lace panties. You almost lose it right there, hips jerking at the thick, callused fingers of his exploring the drenched line of your cunt.
He lets out a low, incredulous growl as he touches you, pressing his mouth to your neck, sucking at the skin. “Feel good?” he rumbles. “Yeah?”
“Fuccck,” you manage.
He smiles into your neck, slides his fingers into your panties, parts you, thick, middle finger slowly exploring before plunging deep into you. You moan, noisy and erupting, louder than any song he can play.
He fucks you with his hand, two fingers, thick and skilled, shallow then deep, giving you a pattern you’ll never guess. His thumb rubs circles on your clit, making you stupid with just how good he is at this. You’re sweating now, shaking, under the control of Alex’s possessive hands against your body.
He’s rutting and hard against you, whispering “that’s it, that’s it,” over and over as his fingers play you like an instrument he’s mastered.
You cum for him, so hard you shudder and squeeze. Head knocking back against his broad chest. He growls, licks up the sweat of you, holding you tighter as you ride and writhe against his fingers.
He pulls his fingers out, yanks your panties to the side, and frees his cock from the thin cotton of his boxers. You don’t know if you’ve ever wanted someone so bad before and when he brushes the fat tip of him against your accepting hole, you gasp at the promise of his size.
It’s one monstrous, behemoth of a thrust that makes your eyes flutter shut and all the air escape you. He fucks up into you hard, and you grab at his big hands, holding on as the old wooden chair frame creaks. He’s so fucking thick, overwhelming and rough, but Christ, the way your slippery cunt swallows him, it’s like he was fit for you. You ride him, back rubbing against his chest as he pumps in and out of you, the noise of your slick and his grunts crescendoing in the sex-heavy air.
He grabs your hips, planting both feet on the floor, and starts railing up into you so deep you let out a sob of his name. He’s rewarding and withholding at the same time, sliding all the way out, holding you above himself, letting you beg for him, until he plants all of himself into you. He slinks a hand up your body, thumb stroking your cheek before he sticks two of his fingers into your mouth.
You taste the sweet tang of your orgasm, tongue licking at the rough and ridges of his fingers. You suck, and he groans, bucking so hard the chair actually scoots back across the floor.
He must want to see you desperate and dumb, his other hand finding your moving between your legs, playing with you there. It only takes a couple strokes of his fingers against your puffy, needy clit for him to orchestrate your orgasm out of you. It’s shocking how fucking hard you cum for him, how white your vision goes, how the pulse of your body pulses a cacophony of beats. Alex fucks straight through your orgasm, cock spearing you as you whimper around his fingers and drip around his cock. But, he’s losing it now, panting into the crook of your neck, hips snapping so loud against you.
He pulls out, and you feel the slide of his cock head against your clit when he cums, thick, white ropes painting against your panties, your belly, the silk of your dress. You’re still floating high like the music notes he plays, a trembling mess in his arms when you lean your head back and can’t help but laugh. Alex chuckles, too. Both of you are sticky and soaked, pressed together, glazed in shared sweat and cum.
The cello sits unused, the bow on the floor. Alex’s forehead rests against your shoulder as he comes down. You think he’s going to say something smart and frustrating, but he just kisses your shoulder blade and tightens his arms around you.
Welcome to my masterlist for The Last of Us. Below you can find all my works sorted by characters and the length of the fanfiction. Hope you enjoy it! ♡
(Smut is marked with *)
*:･ﾟ.✧*:･ﾟ.✧*:･ﾟ.✧*:･ﾟ.✧*:･ﾟ.✧*:･ﾟ.✧*:･ﾟ.✧*:･ﾟ.✧*
Joel Miller
One-Shots:
Good girl *
Aftermath *
Heavy Hearts
Fine Line *
Perfect For You *
Kisses and Tea
Something To Cry Over (Part 1 I Part 2)*
On Your Terms *
The Bolter (Part 1 I Part 2 I Part 3)
Favorite Place *
Made To Take It (Part 1 I Part 2 I Part 3 I Part 4 I Part 5) * (x Tommy)
Empty Promises
Just You *
Punishment *
Look What You Made Me Do *
His Favorite Girl *
Desires *
One Good Reason *
Fuck The Cold (Part 1 I Part 2 I Part 3) *
Something Like Safety *
The Girl from the Bar *
All Mine, All Yours *
Beg for it * (x Tommy)
Lessons (Part 1 I Part 2) *
Disappearing
A Slice of The Cake * (x Tommy)
Love Like Poison *
Headcanons Toxic
House Tour (Part 1 I Part 2 I Part 3) *
All Of You
Kiss The Pain Away
Headcanons Mean *
Goodbye
Little Pet * (x Reed Richards)
Where The Road Leads *
Stunning Star
'Lil Brat *
Merciless *
Forgiveness
Perfect *
Eyes On Me * (x Javi)
Count To Ten *
Pocket Pussy *
All In *
Headcanons Jackson Mean!Joel *
Back For More *
Bed Chem *
Warm Within *
Hold It *
Shape Of My Heart *
HCs Breeding Kink with Softdom!Joel *
Shower Thoughts *
Series:
Alienated
After The End
Synopsis. On campus? Choso Kamo’s the sweet, shy nerd you share film class with - the one who can barely meet your eyes without blushing. Online? Choso Kamo is really @cursed(your)wombz—the #1 streamer on C4mBoyfriends with 820k followers to see his…nine inches. And he might just be looking for a partner.
Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!reader, streamer!Choso, (sort of) B́J Alex AU, cámboy!Choso, college AU, he’s a nerd, film nerd!Choso, secret identities, masks, píercings (ears, tóngue, D), tattoos, chat, streaming, you’re a fan, identity reveal, exhíbitíonism, oraI (fem rec.), again PlERCINGS, tongue f, spítting, p sIapping, p talking, letting the viewers choose, fíngering with rings, overstím, dúmbifícation, Jacob’s Ladder, rough s, fiIthy s, he’s sIightly mean, tummy buIges, making it fit, pressing down, talking you through it, cIit pinching, pússydrúnk Choso, matíng presses, chokíng, manhandIing, mocking, sIight níppIe stim, creampíes, chat Iove you, cúmpIay, getting together, Phantom of the Opera references, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 14.9k
A/N. Hehehehehe-
Sunday was the night you’d found him; sprawled out on your bed and thumbing through the Internet. Some glitzy pop song you couldn’t name blasted from your speakers, and the room was saturated in the tingly excitement of having speedy Wi-Fi, no assignments, and the night to yourself. LED lights pink.
You’re checking some of your messages - doling out a few hearts, a few reposts - when that bell-shaped button bursts in blue. A new notification.
@cursed(your)wombz liked your repost.
It was on a photograph of the Sun—big and yellow, seemingly melting over a grey horizon.
Which was perfectly ordinary- this was the Internet, after all. And though your list of followers was modest, of course you’d interact with a stranger here and there.
The problem was in the way the notification disappeared as soon as it came.
An…accident maybe? This person had liked and unliked your repost. And without a second thought, you’re typing their username into the search bar.
And clicking on their profile.
@cursed(your)wombz huh?
He had a pitch-black profile picture and a layout with nothing of note, a banner as equally colorless and unnotable, and a simple bio stating:
I know what you want…
- C.
And beneath that was a link.
It stood out stark against the black background. You don’t click on it, of course- for fear of being something malicious, you’re avoiding it like you’d avoid a minefield.
You’ve already heard one too many horror stories on here about such things. One click and you’d find your address posted somewhere. Instead, your eyes drop to the number of followers he had…and your eyebrows are immediately shooting up.
0 Following.
581k Followers.
Now that makes you blink.
Okay- alright, maybe it wasn’t the most astounding number you’ve ever seen throughout your expansive time on the Internet - but it was still niche celebrity-status. Especially on this app. Especially to be stalking an account like yours…where all you did was repost the stray picture of a pretty landscape or yell into the aether about your missing assignments for your friends to comment on.
Now that was a little strange.
And so you’re scrolling down.
And you never quite know what you’re in for whenever you enter the realm of a person’s account—fanfiction with tags you never knew existed, one part of an argument on social media that really shouldn’t exist, mpreg.
Which was all fine and dandy to be quite honest- you just never expect to be met with the most beautiful man you’ve ever laid eyes on.
The first picture you’re seeing- pinned.
Posted just an hour ago. It’s a mirror selfie taken at a low angle; of a man with his body angled towards the lens and his phone covering his face. In nothing but a towel. With nothing but his chiselled body. His beefy arms flexed as he takes the picture, biceps rippled with a few veins—though still lean and almost smooth to the touch. Pierced nipples. Defined abs. Your eyes linger on the sparse dusting of dark hair leading below, below, below his fluffy white towel…
The picture cuts off just a few inches past his navel. You know because you’re enlarging it.
The photo is almost vampiric in nature.
Somehow.
Dimly-lit. Beautiful—he clearly knew his angles and lighting. It’s slightly blurry and you can’t make out much of the man’s features - nothing more than the slender length of his fingers, silver rings, and the outline of his dark (perhaps brown?) hair. Touching his shoulders. From just above the hem of his towel, the amorphous blur of a tattoo snakes down his left v-line - and no matter how much you’re zooming in, you can’t quite figure out what it is.
Something twists at the pit of your stomach as you’re latching your eyes onto the very obvious bulge he was sporting through the towel - very.
The flash created a shadow of his lengthy cock—oh. Hanging between thick thighs, heavy and needy. And it also illuminated the slight dampness clinging onto his body; perhaps he’d just gotten out of the shower, or was about to take on after a workout.
Whichever scenario it was, both made your thighs clench- fuck.
Fingers slightly shaky, you’re exiting out of the picture and scrolling down for more.
The next post is a video seemingly taken from the very same instance: it was from the point of view of the beautiful man. Facing downwards, as he zoomed the camera in on his bulge and ran one vein-covered, ringed hand down his abs- down his pelvis- down to that throbbing erection and squeezed himself through his towel.
And then through your speakers echoes out the most pornographic moan.
Thank goodness your dorm had thick walls.
And that’s when you decide that you’ve seen enough.
Not enough as in enough enough to block this strange man and move on with your life- of course, not. As quickly as your fingers would possibly let you, you’re exiting out of the video and scrolling up to a bio that seemed to have more to hide than the first time you read through it.
The link stands mockingly stark - almost winking at you - against the dark background. You think you know what it is.
And you click on it.
Suddenly, your laptop screen’s flooding with a gaudy pink color. A loading circle swivels in the middle of it for a few seconds, before you’re met with a logo in swooping, slanted black script: C4mBoyfriends. Better than that boy in your dms.
Rapidly, you’re opening up a new tab and typing in the name.
“C4mBoyfriends is an adult streaming platform that hosts webcam performers that choose to label themselves as male. Here they can stream live video, post photographs, and interact on forums with a wide array of paying viewers—for a range of content catering to specific niches or sexual roleplays. C4mBoyfriends, since its recent launch, has shot up in the industry as one of the most-visited adult sites and the safest for its performers. All cuts go to the performers themselves and the site runs on separate donations from its audience.”
Ah- you’d guessed right.
Excitement burbles at the pit of your stomach for a few seconds. You’re clicking back onto the tab with the pink logo, and finding that it’d stopped loading.
It was in the layout of a streaming device, with static images of ongoing streams on one side of the platform, and different pages listed out on top. But what took up the majority of your screen was the vision of the very same man from before- from the mirror selfie, from the video.
This time, it was a stream.
@cursed(your)wombz is streaming—#1 streamer on C4mBoyfriends [101 week streak]. [Only solo]. Your internet boyfriend <3
0 Subscribed.
820k Subscribers.
455k Currently watching.
This time, he had his towel lifted up and his hands fisted around his fat cock.
Perfectly angled.
Your jaw drops. He was about eight- maybe more inches, though you weren’t in the state to count. Way too entranced by the way his veiny, ring-decorated hands were wrapped around his cock. Large. He was just so loooong and standing tall between wide-spread legs, shiverin’ every time he’s gliding his hand up and down. Up and down.
Again and again.
Getting faster by the second before he arches-
The edge of his thumb’s reaching for his ruby-red crown—then smearing the glistening liquid that just kept on foaming from the top. He lathers it upon his palm and drags it down his hot erection, making every inch gleam underneath the off-camera lighting.
You’re clicking on a button to increase your volume.
And just in time, too, because then he snakes his left hand down and squeezes his heavy balls- letting out a botched groan that leaves your shorts oh-so-wet.
Deep and guttural; there’s a slight quiver in them as he whispers. “F-fuck.” Just so full and sensitive—the man’s head tips backwards and his hips buck off the cushioned chair. Sluttily. As though he was fucking something invisible. It’s creaking ever-so-slightly as he settles back down, composing himself just a little bit before he starts cumming.
Pearly white droplets of cum.
Beading from the very top of his shaft - where he was the most pink n’ angry - shaking as he empties out. Globs of it start to glide down his length, and a few more collect where his silver Prince Albert’s piercing was positioned right beneath his mushroomy tip.
You’re just letting your eyes linger upon that little heap of satiny sap, when the man thumbs upwards and smears that, too. Such a mess.
And you think that might be all- but then he’s reaching his non-dominant hand upwards and pressing down on his frothing cockhead. Stopping himself from cumming - and as he leans to the side, you swear you’re glimpsing the twinkle of even more piercings on the upper side of his shaft. Was that…a Jacob’s ladder?
You’re rendered so damn speechless that you almost don’t register him speaking- “Awwww, did my pretty sluts wanna watch me cum?”
A shiver runs down your spine at the hitched tone of his voice- drunk on lust. He’s slightly slurring. So alluring, you almost catch yourself nodding.
“Well, too bad.” The man meanly snickers, before he’s suddenly reaching out with his non-dominant hand and angling it higher. The screen shifts to display that very same mouth-watering body from the picture—though, this time with the addition of a black-and-white mask that covered his features from forehead to his sharp jawline.
The only opening in it was a concave cutout for his mouth - almost reminiscent of a Phantom of the Opera mask. In the background was a clearly expensive bedroom of a clearly expensive home - far different from your single dorm - an artwork that you couldn’t name on the wall behind him. Something like a photograph or a portrait. Something about it was so precise- so cinematic. Like watching a movie scene. He continues, “Because you know why? You don’t deserve it.”
There’s a flurry of comments on one side of the screen, so fast that you wonder how he reads it.
“Didn’t I tell you to spam me with your nastiest stories in the chat?” He asks, and from beneath his mask you catch the outline of dark eyes shifting down those hurried words. Those needy comments. “None of you are nasty enough, so none of you get to see me cum…”
You’re tearing your eyes off of him to peruse what they were saying.
@girrrrrrrrrrth: nuuuuuu please, curse! i’ll get on my knees!!
@vampzo333: me too ME TOO
@likezmenpregnant: My story about the body pillow wasn’t nasty enough? TT
@CCpervnextdoor: AWWWW I’m begging~
@Curse’swifey: I’LL PAY YOU EXTRA PLEASEEEEEEE
@Curse’swifey donated 500 cherries.
“Tch- what a desperate bunch. Just fucking look at yourselves…” And though his words weren’t in the least bit nice, you couldn’t deny just how badly he made your cunt twinge.
Curse…that’s what his name was, huh?
You’re squeezing your thighs together- your sleep shorts were definitely soaked.
Curse rolls out the kinks in his neck just a little, and stares down at the camera with a crooked grin. “But that’s not gonna be enough. I said to be nasty- so be nasty.” The active chat becomes nothing but a blur once more: pleas, donations, stories half-typed in their urgency. “And in return I’ll moan whatever name you want me to moan when I cum.”
Before you know it, you’re opening up the sign-up page in a new tab.
Keeping Curse’s livestream playing in the background as you zip through your details. You’re picking out a username for yourself: Ietsmakeamovie and hastily going back to the ongoing stream with your newfound handle. Was it too obvious to make it the same username as your other account? The one that he had stalked?
Fuck- you’re too wound up to think of something else at this point. You decide that you’ll change it later…
Luckily, Curse’s stream didn’t have a paying threshold before you could comment. And you’re jittery with excitement as you pull the laptop closer to yourself and start typing out something—hitting send before you could overthink it.
@Ietsmakeamovie: Seeing you is the first time I’ve gotten this wet.
Curse’s eyes drift down the chat, and he seems to latch onto something. Eyes widening just a fraction.
“The first time?”
Fuck.
You’re feeling a jolt at the way he addresses you - never expecting him to pick out that comment amongst tens of thousands of others that were uttering even filthier things. Curse leans in and speaks with his deep tone, “Those other boys didn’t know how to treat a perfect pussy like yours, huh? This is why they call me the Internet boyfriend, baby.”
@Ietsmakeamovie: Yeah.
@Ietsmakeamovie: Fuck, you’re so hot.
@Ietsmakeamovie: I don’t even wanna look away to touch myself.
You feel embarrassed typing it all out - but you console yourself with the notion that no one here knows who you are. And you don’t know anyone here, either.
Curse leans back and starts pumping his cock even harder—taking his left hand off the drivelling top. His milky-white precum is frenzied n’ sticks to his hand like glue, and the chat grows more and more excited as Curse’s actions do the same.
“That’s alright, baby, you don’t have to finger yourself.” He chuckles, eyes locked on the comments. “I’d be doing that for you if I was there.”
@Ietsmakeamovie: Wish you were. You’d reach so much deeper.
@Ietsmakeamovie donated 1000 cherries.
“Fuh-fuck—” He hisses, head throwing back in his chair. You take the time to admire the lines of his prominent Adam’s apple - the way it bobs every time he’s taking a shaky swallow. “No need to donate or anything, baby, just keep- ngh, talking t’me like this and that’s enough…”
@0003h0lesforCurse: holy shit. i’ve never seen him like this.
@CCpervnextdoor: Needy Curse I like it~
@bewbsRlife: KEEP GOING OP KEEP GOING!!
You giggle to yourself.
@Ietsmakeamovie: Enough to make you cum, Curse?
“Greedy, greedy girl…” Through the slightest gaps in his mask you’re catching the way his nose crinkles in amusement. A wolfish smile. “S’that what you all want?”
The chat explodes in agreement.
He cocks his head, “Movie?”
Was that your new nickname now? Hastily, you reply-
@Ietsmakeamovie: Mhm.
“Well then…” He grins, toned body arching off the chair. “Get ready for a show—” Darkened gaze narrowing at the comments, “And you better not take your eyes off of me for a single second- hump your damn pillows if you have to. I don’t care.”
Quickly grabbing your own puffy pillow, you’re stuffing it between your legs.
Right as Curse lets his head loll backwards- and his cum drizzles out of his cock. He’s been edging the poor viewers and overstimulatin’ himself for so fucking long now—all it takes is a few pumps to let the cascade of white coat his hands and his rings. Just the slightest bit of silver peaking through.
Hard and fast.
The man’s cockhead flushes even redder as he drags his high out deliciously. Every burst of dopamine. Every heaving pant. Every pretty moan escaping him.
It seems to be ramming into him in waves- gooey ribbons of seed coat his digits. Getting smeared like a gloss across eeeeevery single inch, ridge, and vein—and since Curse’s pace was something furious, a few globs of cum splatter across the towel and onto his thighs. A mess that he’s seeming to love.
Because in the next few seconds, he’s wrung out just the final bits of pleasure in him- and is raising his cum-coated fingers up to his mouth and sucking. Staring straight into the camera lens as he does so.
You’re watching slack-jawed as those long, lacquered digits disappear between his lips. Finishin’ them off squeaky clean and letting his head tip to the side.
He mouths, “Movie—”
Part of your username.
Though you hadn’t asked for him to moan your name, as he’d promised to do to one of the viewers had they been nasty enough. And this special treatment…
Maybe he did it to every new viewer. Maybe he just liked how much you complimented him- though everyone else did, too. Either way, it’s perhaps what sets off the bursts of electricity between your legs—and soon enough you’re hurtling into a high you hadn’t even realized had been building up and up and up.
Your lashes flutter shut as the orgasm overtakes you.
Hips ruttin’ away into the plushness of your pillow- you wonder just how much better riding him would be…
And that’s setting off a whole new layer of dopamine at your core, your cunt quiverin’ as white-hot pleasure makes your heartbeat throb in your ears. Chest pounding. Breaths heavy.
By the time you’ve finished pushing through your high, you’re coming to find that Curse had somewhat cleaned himself up with the towel and was bantering back n’ forth with the chat. He rests his head on one hand and sweeps his eyes down the usernames, “What happened to dear Movie, huh?” Curse pretends to pout. “The first stream wasn’t too much for her, right?”
@girrrrrrrrrrth: kekekeke you’re too freaky, curse!!
@CCpervnextdoor: So dirty~
@daddytoeknee: Must thank Movie for the show though…
Urgently, you’re gathering yourself and tapping a few buttons on-screen.
@Ietsmakeamovie subscribed to @cursed(your)wombz.
@Ietsmakeamovie donated 2500 cherries.
@Ietsmakeamovie: It’d never be too much.
“Ahhh, there you are.” Such a beautiful smile smears across his face, and Curse’s leaning in to take a closer look at the comments. “And thank you for subscribing, same time tomorrow?”
You’re unsure whether that was directed at you or everyone viewing- but you’re chiming in agreement alongside the rest of the comments. And Curse reads through them, lingering for just a little while longer before he grins.
“Heh- bye, sluts.”
And he covers the camera, the stream cuts off.
Yet your heart still thunders.
Ignoring the time at the bottom of your laptop screen, you’re then clicking on his profile and scrolling through what other videos he had…
.
.
.
It was your fault that you kept dozing off.
Honestly.
You should have known better- and you know that you should’ve known better…but you couldn’t help yourself. After Curse’s initial stream, you spent some time browsing through the numerous photographs and short clips that he’d posted; there were even some saved streams that were each dirtier than the last—each with his attractive mask and his even more attractive voice, his sensual cock getting pumped over and over for the audiences.
And so you’d left a few comments, a few hearts.
Throughout all of them, you made the peculiar discovery that they were all more high-quality than the last. The standard of being the #1 on the site, you guess. But the lighting and angles were all just so perfect…
You’d watched them for just a little while- at least, what you’d thought was a little while. Because by the time you’re realizing that your laptop battery was dying, and your eyes were tired, you’re turning your head in the direction of the dorm windows and- fuck.
Why was the Sun coming up?
And so you’d rushed to get at least half an hour of sleep before you had to get up for your 8AM lecture.
Professor Yaga taught Film 101 as though he was trying to scare everyone off it. Rigorous coursework and never-altered deadlines. Though you yourself wouldn’t consider him an unreasonable man, it was impertinent to be punctual and alert in his classes - and right now, you were feeling neither of those.
By the grace of the universe, you’re somehow managing to stumble into class just two minutes after it starts. It’s not enough to rouse Yaga’s anger - and either way, you had made a name for yourself as one of his most avid students - though it does get you a sternly raised brow as you apologize and take the nearest open seat.
Just-so-happening to be in the very last row.
At the very forgotten corner.
Right beside who you knew to be Yaga’s actually most avid student—Choso Kamo.
Had it been a race between the two of you - perhaps between the entire department - Choso would have finished five times before anyone’s even stepping past the finish line. You would’ve gotten second. And that wasn’t to diminish your abilities in any way - you’d long since proven yourself to be one of the best students this course had even seen - it’s just…Choso was a film nerd through and through.
If there was anyone that could live up to such a title, then it was him.
Choso lived, slept, and breathed film and television. He could name any television show around the world with just a single frame, and most he could recite line-for-line. Oh, that? He learned Korean just to immerse himself in that scene in Parasite. That scene? It was from the 1957 Sri Lankan film Amba Yahaluwo, by the way did you know that Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom was filmed there, too?
Knitted vest. Hair in two messy space buns.
Clunky glasses rested atop his nosebridge, and dark bangs covering most of his vision, you’d often see him tottering around campus with a column of books that was damn-near taller than him. And despite his towering demeanour - from your mental counting, Choso was around 6’2 or more - around most of the student body, he was the type that couldn’t meet your eyes no matter how many classes you shared with him.
Even now, as you seated right next to him and smiled- Choso softly yelps and turns away from.
You don’t take it personally, of course, as he was simply the shy type. And by the flush that rises to his high cheekbones, you know he - at the very least - doesn’t dislike you.
Situating yourself, you’re opening your bag and pulling out your laptop. Opening it- fuck.
The briefest flash of one of Curses’s previous streams—where he had his cock in his hands and his face contorted mid-ecstasy flashes across your screen. And you can’t slam your laptop shut fast enough- cracking it just the slightest bit to exit out of the numerous tabs, fingers nothing but a blur. Thank fuck your volume hadn’t been set on high.
Head ducked, you’re looking out from the corner of your eye to check whether Choso had seen anything.
But if he did, he shows no indication.
Only keeping his back ramrod straight- his gaze ahead- his flush fiery as he listens to whatever Yaga was saying.
And so you think you’re in the clear…for now…
Opening your laptop up once more, you’re logging onto your lecture platforms and attempting to forget about last night. Which was difficult when that smile upon Curse’s face, just beneath his mask - was the only thing running through your mind.
And before you know it, you’d been staring blankly at your screen for a few seconds—before Choso inches in just a centimeter closer. Unwilling to let himself take up even more space. He keeps his eyes trained ahead and his voice - fuck, you’d never heard his voice before but it was just so deep and measured, something you wouldn’t have expected out of him - low.
Whispering to you, “H-he’s on Chapter 18 of Stone Butch Blues, we’re about to write a screenplay for the zoo scene.”
“Ah…” You don’t know whether you’re more surprised at the timbre of his voice or the way he managed a proper sentence out to you. All your previous attempts at conversation throughout the semester had been futile—and you’d long resigned yourself to the idea that he was too nervous to ever talk to you. “Th-thank you.”
He doesn’t answer but nods in shy acknowledgement.
And as you’re opening up your file, you bask in the realization that Choso Kamo was actually hot underneath those glasses. If only you could see his features further…
Maybe you’re being a little delirious. Your eyes feel heavy.
Heavy.
Heavier.
Tap-tap-tap.
A shake.
Tap-tap-tap-tap.
A warm hand on your shoulder, by the time you’re opening your eyes- you’re looking up into even warmer, molten chocolate-colored ones. They were framed by fawny eyelashes and thick glasses that made his shy gaze seem ever-so-slightly amplified.
You think you’re stunned for a few seconds before Choso speaks, “U-um…class is over.”
“Oh.” That makes you dart your head up and look around, noticing that most of the students had filtered in or were in the process of already doing so. “Oh, shit-”
You’d seriously slept through all that?
And Yaga had left you alive?!
No, you weren’t going to question this act of mercy—thank goodness for the last row, because he likely hadn’t been able to see you. Shooting upright, you’re grabbing all your things and hoping you hadn’t snored next to the sweet boy - “Thank you so much for waking me.” You’re turning towards him and saying, earnestness seeping into your tone. “Knowing me, I would’ve slept right through till next class. Might actually have been more convenient.”
He startles into a laugh then raises a hand up to his mouth and quietens himself down, “It’s alright.” You’re staring closely at the little bells of laughter, and he turns his eyes downwards. Bashfully admitting, “Happens to me too, whenever I stay up um- studying. Long night?”
You sigh, “You could say that…” Not a long night studying, but…
And as the conversation quietens down and Choso worries down on his bottom lip, you’re hiking your backpack up on your shoulders and saying. “Well, I guess I should be going then. Catch up on the recordings of the lecture and everything-” Turning, “See you ‘round—and thanks again.”
You make all of five steps before Choso finally gathers up the courage to call out-
“Wait—!”
Confused, you’re facing him once more. “Yes?”
And his hand was out, his fingers were slightly trembling. He was mouthing out the words as though still debating whether to speak them into existence - whether he was capable of. “I…we-” Eventually mustering up the courage once you give a reassuring nod, “When will we meet up?”
That makes you pause.
Was he…
“F-for the assignment.” Choso clarifies, a flush rising to his cheeks as he likely realizes he should’ve led with that. “Professor Yaga’s mid-semester project he always does…”
Ah—you’re clapping a palm on your forehead. How could you have forgotten? Yaga had announced at the start of the semester that about halfway through, the class would be paired up or put into groups to work on a collaborative project that contributed to about 50% of your grade. This semester, it was to write a full-length movie screenplay for a book or musical of your choice. And you’d been excited for it, in fact, but after the…activities of last night it’d completely slipped your mind that he’d be delving more into it this lecture.
And the poor boy stumbles through his explanation, “H-he let everyone choose their partners, and I wanted to wake you up but…you just looked so peaceful.” He fidgets with his fingers and flushes, “I th-thought one of your friends would come up here and choose you but-”
Probing him gently, “But?”
“B-but I’m afraid you ended up paired with me.” Choso just looks so genuinely apologetic- “I’m sorry- no one picked me either. I should’ve woken you up, but we can go talk with Professor Yaga about changing partners if you’d like-”
“Hey—wait.” You’re cutting off his spiel, something in your chest aching at the utterly devastated furrow between his brows. You take a step closer to him, “I would love to do the project with you, Choso. No need to talk to Yaga about anything.”
He looks up at you with wide, disbelieving eyes. “B-but your friends…”
“I don’t really have close friends in this class, anyway.” You smile, “I’d much rather do it with you.”
“Really—?” Breathed. As if he couldn’t believe it.
And it’s after some time - and a deep inhale - that he speaks again. Finally sinking in that someone would choose him of all people—that you would, that he speaks again. “And um- would you like to work on the script at my place?” Before you can answer, his breath hitches and his head shoots up. “N-not that I’m pressuring you into…it’s nothing weird, I promise! We can meet anywhere else you like- the library, your place- wait, no that’s weird, too…”
“Choso- Choso.” You giggle. And if this was anyone else then you would’ve assumed that they were putting the moves on you. “I’m okay with your place.”
.
.
.
The apartment was a fair distance away from the campus dorms.
Which made sense, you suppose, given the fact that less than half the people there would be able to afford the rent on such a place—especially after tuition. The highrise dove into the clouds, its vermicular body scaled in glistening windows and gold-accented furnishings within. You got the distinct feeling of being swallowed whole as you entered through the widely-gaped entrance, with several doormen and security that eyed you up and down, bowed at Choso.
You thanked them and made your way - slightly speechless - through the hallways.
This was everything you could ever dream of, and you’re sure you spot the odd actor or two down in the lobby. As you’re getting into an elevator the size of your entire dorm room, Choso punches in one of the highest floor numbers and turns to you-
Throughout the bus ride here, you’d been the one chattering away. And so it surprises you once he finally speaks, “I-I’m sorry…my place is a bit of a mess.”
“Can’t be as bad as mine. I won’t judge.” Who cares about a mess when he lives in a place like this? You couldn’t wait to go inside…
He pushes his chunky glasses upwards and gives you a shy smile, “Thank you.” Looking down at his polished shoes, “You’re so sweet.”
“Thank you.”
And you rise upwards in silence.
Soon enough, you’re finding yourself being led up to his massive apartment. He’s punching in the numbers of the code and setting his backpack down—telling you to make yourself comfortable. And you shuffle inside awkwardly; past the lavish furnishings and the alien-shaped lamps that all rich places seemed to boast.
He leads you in the direction of the master bedroom - where Choso said that his film collection was vast and likely to reveal techniques that the two of you would be able to incorporate into your own script.
“I even have a copy of Momijigari- it’s one of my most prized possessions.” He shoots you such a charming smile, eyes twinkling behind his glasses, over his shoulder. Heading inside.
And you can’t help but follow.
A single step inside his not-so-humble abode and you’re feeling a sudden sense of déjà vu wash over you, rendering you unsteady on your feet. Not quite sure why, you’re sweeping your eyes around the space: the high-quality camera equipment in one corner (not unusual to see for a film student), the chic furnishings, and then over to the empty wall space above the king-sized bed, something in you remained dissatisfied as they find nothing there but white plaster.
Choso notices that you’ve stalled behind and looks over at you curiously—he was taking a seat on the carpet, laptop opened up on top of the coffee table. “Something wrong? I’m sorry, I know it’s really messy but-”
“No, you’re good.” You shake your head, “It’s actually not messy enough.”
He smiles.
That night, you went home and wondered why Choso’s smile looked so familiar.
.
.
.
The musical that you’d chosen for your ‘adaptation’ was The Phantom of the Opera, suggested by you, of course.
And if there had been any connection to the masked man you’d been watching the night prior, then you were just glad that Choso had no idea.
It was far easier, given the fact that it’d already been adapted from the initial novel—though that only meant that Yaga would be critiquing yours even harder.
So you had to strive to be more cinematic, than the others in your class, stronger in ways than the ones before you - and though you doubt you’d ever match up to Schumacher’s visuals, there was little doubt as to whether you’d be the best amongst the students. This was a screenplay made to impress, and in the week since you’d pored over it—and Choso Kamo’s mahogany coffee table typing away at it, you only grew more determined in the fact. And throughout the week, you’ve been flitting in and out of that very apartment of his.
Choso had been a lovely partner for the project - the best you could’ve ever asked for - and you’re coming to find that he was actually far more funny than anyone ever gave him credit for. Far more open. Far more active when it came to something he was passionate about.
And of course, you knew that he’d be sweet.
Despite his initial insistence that he could do the project himself, you’d taken up half the work. And you’d joined him in browsing through his massive catalogue of movies, in searching up screenplays to read, and in annotating them for techniques when starting to write yours.
You’ve come to make friends with one of the doormen by now.
Just today you’d watched the 2004 Phantom of the Opera adaptation. And after a few hours of occupying his space and getting to know the nerdy boy a little better, you’d go straight back home to…Curse.
Whenever Choso made you feel tingly with his sweetness, Curse would amplify that heat to right between your legs.
It’s been a week of getting to know Choso Kamo, and a week of having Curse splashed across your laptop screen—cock furiously hard n’ his moans echoing. He’d smile and utter your username whilst wearing his iconic mask and it’d be a high strong enough to follow into the day after. And often Choso would ask you what you’re so happy about.
Today, in particular, Curse had just finished one of his streams - cumming aaaaaall over the desk this time - when he’d settled himself back down and started chatting with the comments. Responding to one or two of yours.
You’re just about to joke about why he was sticking so long after his orgasm when he speaks once more-
Voice somewhat serious, “Alright, now…settle down, settle down.” Curse waves his hand airily at the camera, throwing a middle finger up when the chat only gets more frenzied. “Tch- what brats you all are, would you wanna roleplay that someday?”
@vampzo333: YES PLEASE.
@likezmenpregnant: How about you be the brat…?
@Ietsmakeamovie: I would like that.
@sixeyesorsixh0les: ^^
@0003h0lesforCurse: ^
“Fine fine…” Underneath the mask, he rolls his eyes fondly. “But I really do have something to announce-”
@likezmenpregnant: You’re pregnant.
@Ietsmakeamovie: I’m the father-
@Curse’swifey: NO MEEEEEEEEEEE!!
“I’m thinking of getting a partner for these streams.” He finally admits, rubbing his chin as though still in thought. And your heart stops-
@bipplruletheworld: so down.
@Cursenoticeme44: Omg yeeeeeeeeees!!
@daddytoeknee: YESYESYES.
The chat practically explodes, and you’re unsure what to feel about it—after all, you don’t know Curse and it’d be strange to feel a little possessive over his solo streams, however, you did have your preferences. But then again, you can’t help but imagine just how much hotter it would be to have two people- perhaps to see him make expressions he never has before…
Ultimately, you’re quiet as Curse leans in and scans the chat. His brows furrow just a little as he sweeps through the blurring usernames, “I dunno…I’m still thinking about it- I haven’t even asked this person, to be honest. I just wanted to know what you guys thought.” Nodding his head along or huffing out laughter at some of the comments, “Movie?”
You jolt—at being called out.
He wanted your opinion specifically? You suppose you did contribute to about half his comment section most streams.
But you stall as your fingers reach for the keyboard.
Biting down on your lip and contemplating for a little while. Though he waits as patiently as ever-
@Ietsmakeamovie: I don’t mind!!
Something seems to wash over him as he reads your comment, nodding. “I see.”
He moves onto something else and his expression was indiscernible.
You’re flickering your eyes to the artwork behind him, the small corner of it peaking into the frame, and it suddenly hits you that it’s the theatrical poster of The Phantom of the Opera (2004).
.
.
.
It can’t be.
It can’t be.
It can’t be.
There’s something your brain was telling you that you’re absolutely refusing to believe—after all, how many people in the world loved The Phantom of the Opera? Hell, how many people in the world have watched The Phantom of the Opera?
That didn’t mean that everyone you came across had a secret identity as one of the hottest streamers on C4mBoyfriends.
You were being paranoid, you told yourself. You were being utterly silly- and the next time you’re going over to Choso’s apartment was the very next day. Which wasn’t entirely ideal, given how much you’d tossed and turned after Curse’s last stream conjuring up all the possibilities…but Yaga wouldn’t accept a request for an extension even if you were set on fire in front of him. And so you went.
The pit of your stomach twists as Choso swings the lavish wooden door open and gives you a beaming smile. So innocent. So sweet.
He shakily pushes his glasses up as he welcomes you in. “Come in—s-sorry if I took a while to get to the door, I’ve been doing some decorating recently.”
His nervous smile is what makes you find your voice. And you’re dubiously looking around the luxurious apartment, “You need to do some decorating?”
“Believe it or not, yes.” Choso huffs. “Would you like something to drink? Or maybe to eat? I checked out that bakery you recommended last time and you’re right- they have the best Danish pastries.”
“Actually, Choso…” You’re shaking your head, shooting him a grateful smile. “I’m good. I’d think I’d prefer to start right away, if that’s alright? I really wanna get to Act 2 today.”
“O-oh, of course—!”
And he’s sweetly guiding you inside, whilst you attempt not to look like you’re taking two steps at a time. Back to that familiar room. Back to that familiar desk. Back to that (somewhat) familiar bed which most certainly did not have an artwork from The Phantom of the Opera on it—
You open the door and the first thing you’re seeing is the familiar plane of that white mask. The Phantom.
Choso follows behind you and catches you staring at the poster. Gravelly tone echoing from behind, “I told you I did some decorating.”
And you jump-
Swivelling around to find him bearing you a sheepish smile, “Sorry if I startled you.” He pushes those chunky glasses up, “Tea?”
“S-sure…” You breathe, if anything for a thing to occupy your mouth with. Wait- not like that—!
And as Choso disappears down the hall, you’re taking a seat on the bed you’ve sat on countless, countless times before without a single care in the world. Now you’re sinking into the very - the very - edge as though it’d swallow you whole.
Body just resting on the plush comforter before-
“Hey, so I also have coffee if you would prefer?” Comes Choso’s sudden voice.
And you’re startling once more- “Just tea is fine, thanks.” Barely managing to get that through your lips, you’re watching as he disappears…as the sound of his footsteps echo…
Before darting off the bed and now heading towards the camera equipment you’d noticed in the corner the first time you’d been here. What you’d assumed to be part of another one of his classes or personal projects. Now, you’re leaning in and wondering with just which camera he showed his pretty cock off to millions, at just what height of his tripod he made your cunt so heated.
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck this was real.
Now, you’re noticing things in the room that you’d never noticed before. Like the ring light kept underneath his bed, and the dresser in the corner with numerous rings- those weren’t costume props or anything. They were pure silver.
Heavy.
Heavy, like the pit in your stomach—excited and swirling. Just trembling at the tips of your fingers - ever-so-slightly - you’re reaching out as though to touch it, as though to feel the alternate version of Choso that you knew longer than you knew Choso-
“Ah, so you’ve realized.”
And then his voice permeates the room.
The room that suddenly seems smaller, the room that suddenly seems to rise ten degrees in temperature - though goosebumps skitter across your skin. And almost as though in a horror movie, you’re turning in slow motion to face the bespectacled man who was now holding up a tray of steaming hot tea.
He walks over soundlessly and sets it on the coffee table with a slight click! And besides that, Choso walks over to the dressing table and puts his silver rings on.
One by one.
His eyes hold court with yours through the mirror, “How long?” Voice a deep timbre.
You’re taking a step closer without even realizing, “Um…just last night. Just now- actually.”
He chuckles and you realize he’s asking how long you’ve known about Curse.
“I-I found you by chance. About a week ago, actually…” And then you say what’s been on your mind ever since you had, “Ever since you liked and unliked my repost.”
“Ah, a rookie mistake.” Choso comments. “I should have known better than to stalk using my public account.” And with all rings now put on and glinting in the lighting of his bedroom, Choso shuffles through his jewellery tray to pluck his earrings in and one eyebrow piercing. And then…one lip piercing—a lip ring that twinkles mischievously as he smiles.
He rises and you think you’ve never quite appreciated his built frame.
His deep eyes as they’re locking in on you. Echoing out, “Though…you really can’t say much- can you, Movie?”
And though you knew that he knew- you can’t stop the zaps of electricity running through your body.
Sputtering out, “Yeah-” Your fists clench and you’re looking up at the object of both your fantasies and your secret interest these past few days - melded into one. “Yeah, I really can’t. Choso you’re so…”
“Different?” He fixes his glasses, “Though I really am shy, I can’t deny that- especially around you. But it helps to be a little more antisocial when I’m around idiots.”
He leans in closer- so close that his scorchin’ hot breath wafts across your features. You have no idea how you’d diminished such a distance so soon…
“And if my memory serves me right-” Choso taps on the edge of his chin, in mocking thought. “-I seem to remember that Movie agreed to have a partner on my stream.” You shiver. And he looks at you adoringly, “So how about it? Wanna make a movie, baby?”
You step a little closer.
“Only if I get to match wardrobes.”
He chuckles and picks you up to spin you around-
And then it’s getting to work. And then it’s shuffling through his closet to find a mask that matches his own.
He stretches on the rubber a bit and brings it to you—“I bought this one when I first started, but it ended up being too tight- I think it’d be just the one for you.”
It was. It fit perfectly.
And then he paces around the room and starts to set up- before Choso’s gaze catches you hovering around the bed, and then he’s clicking his tongue and forgoing the tripods altogether. With just the professional lights and the high-quality camera, Choso places the camera on top of the coffee table. Facing the foot of the bed - everything and anything could be seen.
Just with a few clicks he’s started the stream.
And with just a little nudge he’s urging you to sit next to him.
“Hello, my little sluts—” Choso- or should you say Curse croons towards the camera. On one of his monitors you can see him being projected there - waving, in his knitted vest that clashed with his mask. You stand off awkwardly out of sight from the camera. He smiles. “As you can see, things are a little different today…”
@girrrrrrrrrrth: uuuuuu change of angle!! change of angle!!
@bewbsRlife: ARE WE GETTING A SURPRISEEEEEEE??
@likezmenpregnant: Pls be pregnant, Curse <3
“No- no, I’m not pregnant.” He laughs, “But I have been thinking about what we talked about last night.”
@bipplruletheworld: omg this can’t be…
“And guess what? I did what you guys told me about- and I talked to her.”
@bipplruletheworld: yessssssss
@yoyoyoureinmypuss: I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE^^
@bewbsRlife: WOOOOOO-
@daddytoeknee: Omg where’s Movie, Ik she’d love this- heh. Imagine this WAS Movie though…
“So, my little sluts…” Choso announces, “I’d like to introduce you all to my new partner—” And he’s reaching out and clasping your wrist, looking up to check for reassurance before continuing. Miming whispering to the camera, “And this is her first time on stream, so be nice…”
You’re sheepishly walking into their view.
Slightly bowing your intrusion into the stream, “Th-thanks for having me?”
“Isn’t she cuuuuute?” He asks the commenters, and there’s a flurry of agreements. You’re even spotting a few questions about your name n’ interests, even kinks, amongst those - all of which Choso waves off with a laugh. “Now now—we can have the Q&A later. For now, let’s get to the fun part…”
@Curse’swifey: FUCK THAT’S MY FAV PART-
@2coolforcond0ms(i’mavirgin): Movie you’re missing out on a historic moment uwu
And the fun part consisted of clamoring onto the bed as fast as lightning. Letting the mattress dip n’ creak its protests out as Choso sits on it with his back turned to the camera, then lovingly pats his manspread thighs as a signal for you to climb on. Meaty muscles. Thick enough for you to want to sink your teeth into- how could you never have noticed?
Perhaps because this was the polar opposite of how he acted when he was on campus - always keeping to himself, never taking up too much space. Now he was practically vacuuming it all up so you had nowhere else to sit.
And you were more than happy to climb onto Choso Kamo’s lap.
Sitting your ass down on his readily-awaiting seat. From under your skirt you feel something hot—and throbbing between his legs. Cylindrically shaped and curved to the left.
Just the slightest movement makes his rock-hard erection twitch underneath- and you’re whimpering at the lewd sensation. At the way he drips out a hefty dollop of precum that seeps through his trousers and sticks to the front of your panties, making you gasp—“Ch-Cho-”
“Shhhh.” Choso wraps a hand ‘round your throat and cuts you off.
And before you know it, he’s bouncing his knees to get you to slide your drippin’ pussy up and down his bulge. Up and down. Turning towards the camera, “Ya hear that?” Up and down. “My girl’s so needy- she’s already begging for it. But I dunno if she deserves it, huh?”
@bewbsRlife: I MEANNNN
@theh0rniestsoldier: i’m feeling mean today…
@daddytoeknee: Give her your mouth!!
“Mouth? I love that idea.” Choso titters.
And then he’s giving a teasing slap on the side of your ass cheeks—smack!
“Please-”
“Sit on my face now, baby.” He purrs, eyes flickerin’ with pure need underneath his mask. Then leaning in to whisper in a loooow tone for only you to hear. “You know Choso, but let’s see if you can handle Curse.”
Then he leans back on the bed - his head pointing in the direction of the camera.
And you’re shuffling up Choso’s toned, brick-hard body—straddling your knees upon either side of his head, veerin’ your hips right atop that pretty face. You’re sitting - right in front of the camera. Though nothing was revealed…yet.
And Choso’s digging his tongue up to you instantly- he isn’t even making it past the fabric of your panties. But that doesn’t stop him from lettin’ his tastebuds take a looooong, luxurious lick of your swollen pussy.
Right down your sopping wet slit.
Suddenly, the room echoes with one of his pornographic moans- the very same ones you’d listened to night after night through your laptop speakers. Now they’re even louder, and somehow even sexier, sending electricity shooting straight up, up, up from your core.
And even more treacherous was the way you’re feeling something cold…and metallic at the very middle of Choso’s tongue. Rock-hard. It takes whatever’s left of your rationality to realize that it’s a silvery tongue piercing smack-dab where his tastebuds kissed your pussy. Scraping alongside where you were most sensitive.
Instantly; your head tips back and saliva starts bubbling at the sides of your lips. “Fuh-fuck…” And before you know it—you’re starting to drag your throbbing pussy up n’ down his features.
Short, barely-there jerks of your shy, shy hips.
And Choso chuckles huskily to himself at the cute way you were yearnin’ for his mouth. But what you didn’t expect was for him to reach one ringed hand up and squeeze the left side of your hips.
Your only warning.
Before he’s suddenly tightening his hold on you and reaching one more hand up- snaking it beneath your skirt like some pervert. Choso edges towards your throbbing cunt and places one good slap—
It’s the resounding smack! of skin-on-skin that makes you halt more than anything.
Jaw-dropped. Thighs quivering. The white-hot pleasure runs through your spine and leaves you barely hearing his roughened words, a tone lower than you knew his voice to be- as though drunk on the delicious taste of your pussy already. “Greedy, greedy girl…” Choso tuts, “Don’t tell me you’re trying to enjoy yourself without letting our dear audience in on the fun?”
Oh, shit.
You’re letting your head snap to where the camera was positioned and blinking its one gluttonous eye. Comments flooding the screen of the monitor so fast that you couldn’t read them-
You’d completely forgotten about the stream for a second.
“I—oh, I um.”
Yet another harsh smack! “Forgot, huh?” Amusement seeps into Choso’s words, as though he’d already guessed the situation.
You admit, “M-maybe…”
“I’m afraid I can’t blame you, baby.” Smack! “Curse’s mouth is too good, huh?” He yammers on and on, his tongue nudging deeper, his rippling tastebuds skidding into every ridge- as if trying to fuck you through your damn panties. “This pussy’s too good–she’s purring f’me already. Hear her?”
And you’re not sure why- but you’re nodding to whatever he says. “Y-yes—fuck.”
“Mhm. So why don’t we let our lovely audience hear, too, huh?” You’re barely given the time to register his suggestion, before Choso husks out a command. “Lift your skirt up, baby.”
Your thighs squeeze around his head at the notion-
And your fingertips touch the short hemline of your skirt.
@Cursenoticeme44: Holy shit.
@theh0rniestsoldier: i’ve been waiting for thisssssssssss-
@daddytoeknee: WOW.
@girrrrrrrrrrth: bby’s so needy!!
@R€4leater: munch Curse #canon
The chat explodes as you let them bear witness to Choso’s face stuffed between your pretty legs- he’s redly-flushed and ravenous. They could see the slightest glimpse of his nose n’ the way he’s driving it between your sodden pussylips, diving and diving, they could see the glossy layers coating your cunt—and the way Choso’s pink lips come up to suck on it.
Those handsome cheeks of his hollow out, as he’s makin’ out with your pussy through your panties.
Like a man starved.
Long canines slightly nippin’ at your folds- almost wolfish in mannerisms.
“Oh p-please…” You’re quivering atop him. You don’t even know what you’re begging for—just that it feels so good to have him veering his tongue hungrily against your cunt like this. And you wanted more.
More, more, and more.
Choso’s holding onto your restless hips with a clammy hand- he’s stuck to you almost like adhesive. And he guides your hips - he fucking slows them down - whilst you continue moanin’ and shaking atop his raw mouth. Glistening wet tongue extending even more than its usual length to slide-slide-sliiiiide your panties to the side-
And you’re gasping at the sudden whiff of cold bedroom air against your naked pussy. “Ch-” A spank. “I mean- fuck, Curse?”
“Mhm, m’here, baby.” He drawls out. Slightly slurring with all the extra globs of your pussy juices - pooling straight into your mouth, n’ Choso reaches up and smooches your soft swollen folds to smear it all around. Like some gloss. “M’here aaaaaand- so are 820k sluts that wanna watch you break.”
“B-break?” You’re gaping, “I thought you were just gonna- ngh, eat me out…?”
“Baby, Curse never ‘just’ does anything.” And you’re shocked to find him sliding his tongue out, tipping his head back to refer to the camera on the coffee table. “Isn’t that right, fuckin’ pervs?”
@daddytoeknee: Hell yeah.
@0003h0lesforCurse: duhhhhhhhhh
@yoyoyoureinmypuss: YOU’RE THE BEST CURSE
@Fishygurodad: Fuck, her pussy’s divine.
“Heh…” Choso smiles into your cunt, “And so whaddaya say? How many slaps before I stick my tongue in her?”
@vampzo333: 3
@bbynohuuuuzz: 14
@Ilikepr1menumbers: 29
“Since m’feeling nice- read your favorite one out, baby.” He murmurs.
To which you’re unable to do anything but- you tilt your upper half just the slightest bit closer to the monitor and pick out the first one you can read through the blur of words and numbers:
@Fishygurodad: Until she cries.
Oh.
Your blood runs cold.
Your cunt grows heated.
And before you can either rectify your recitation or beg for mercy—Choso doesn’t hesitate before fixing the rings on his fingers to be slightly higher than before. Making sure they’re in line of him planting one- two- three good, loud spanks on your sobbin’ cunt. “O-oh my god- fuck, mmm, oh my god.”
Until the skin of his fingertips seems to redden, and your pussylips feel raw - “How about that?” He asks- not from you, but from the viewers.
@daddytoeknee: I don’t see her crying yet…also idkkkkk I’m getting Movie vibes.
@girrrrrrrrrrth: movie would’ve loved this-
And then it’s one after the other. Again and again, Choso’s emblazoning the rude outlines of his rings against yours - until you’ve fucking memorized the ridges n’ patterns of the one ring on his middle finger with the carving of an octopus.
Tentacles flared out.
“Shit, not that damn ring again.”
And as he’s doing so he can’t help himself- fuck, he can’t heeeeelp himself. His canines dig into the sticky fabric of your underwear like a damn dog - and throughout the duration of what his hands were doing, you’re hearing the sharp riiiiip of fabric tearing—!
Soon enough, your panties are tattered and ruined in Choso’s maw- just from his mouth. He spits it out and continues swerving his thickened tips inwards to give a loving pinch on your clit—and you can’t help but burst into peals of shrill, needy cries. Both pain and pleasure mixing as he doles out a final swat-
Before Choso swipes your pussylips apart and spits- the glutinous glob of his saliva landing directly on your hole. He doesn’t give it the time to seep back out—instead, he’s surging up and shoving his face between your legs.
This time, without the barrier of your panties in the way.
@CCpervnextdoor: HE FUCKING RIPPED IT OFF WITH HIS MOUTH??
@bewbsRlife: HOLY SHIT CURSE-
@Fishygurodad: Shiiiiit, I’d do the same ngl.
And then Choso’s shoving his tongue inside and slurpin’ all around your wet hole like a damn animal…
In and out.
In and out.
Probin’ into slippery sweet spots.
Chin hitting the back of your slit. Plastic mask rubbing against your clit.
Choso’s pierced tongue was going absolutely fucking wild inside of you. He wastes no time before gripping either side of your cute hips and slammin’ your pussy down onto his mouth- hard and fast. The perverted nerd is slashing his tongue inwards, smearin’ apart your glue-covered folds. As deep as he could go. He doesn’t care if it hurts, he just needs to make sure that loooong slick muscle of his tastebuds were scrapin’ every inch of your walls.
With the curved tip of it, he flexes it against a sweet bundle of nerves. Making you buck with a pitchy moan of his name—“Ch-Cuuuurse—!” And the sensation was made even more delicious with the way his orb tongue piercing presses in contrast against your hot cunt. “It feels so good, Curse.”
“I already know.” Choso pipes up- cocky in all the ways you never knew he could be. “I already know- but what about those fuckers watching, huh?”
“W-well…” Spit drivels down your chin, and you’re struggling to keep your eyes focused to read the urgent chat.
@bipplruletheworld: they’re so HOT!!
@NERDSAREMYBABYGIRLZ: OHHHH WHAT A MUNCH
@daddytoeknee: Me next <3
And it was clear that they were seeing the effect he had on you- how could they not?
Your eyes were dazed and teary, your thighs were shaking like leaves in the wind, Choso was making your body twitch—just from the way he’s reeling his entire tongue out. And breathing out steadily and slowly against your twitchin’ pussylips, freezing cold air that leaves you even wetter on top of him.
He’s unfastening his mouth - leaving it wiiiiide open for all the satiny ribbons of your slick to enter his gullet. And once you’re done- that isn’t enough riling you up.
Choso leaves a good slap on your folds and asks, “So…what about it?” Muffled through his mouthfuls.
“They agree- they agree—” You’re keening out. Star-struck, seeing pleasure burst behind your shuttered eyelids at the sudden stinging. “Fuck- you’re the hck! best I’ve ever had, Curse.”
“I agree.” He hums. And as if this entire ordeal wasn’t sinful enough, Choso’s swashing around the silky-smooth sap he’d collected from your leaking pussy. Letting the flavor seep into his tastebuds, before he’s then spitting again on your pussy. A semi-opaque layer of lewdness that coats your inner thighs in a sheen that catches the lighting.
Perfect on camera.
You’re squeezing your wettened thighs together and creating an audible squelch!
“Awwww, look- this pussy agrees, too.”
The gooey addition startles you- and you rut.
Only straight down onto his awaiting fingers.
@girrrrrrrrrrth: oh, shit is he…
@legsopenforcurses: With the rings on, too!!
@likezmenpregnant: My show is onnnnn
It’s such a fucking mess for him to navigate- even with his own fingers. Soon enough, you’re arching your back as you feel him intrude a single ringed digit between those utterly swollen pussylips of yours—almost difficult to find your snug hole between them. You’re damn lucky that Choso’s fingers were slender as well as incredibly lengthy.
Because he’s circlin’ your tight orifice a few times - only a few times - before inserting the sections of his finger. Quirking just right and hitting the exact bundle of your nerves.
That infamous g-spot that made you yelp once he starts and keeps on hitting.
And his rings- oh, fuck, his rings.
Just so chunky and textured. They were the perfect designs to press up against your walls and massage them stupid- every drag meant that you’re feeling them dig into ridges n’ crevices you hadn’t even known existed.
Hitting and hitting. Curling his dexterous finger and scraping- “Fuuuuck, oh my god.” The doughy tip of his finger soon becomes damn-near molded to the area where it was, and your eyes flicker to the back of your head as you continue anglin’ your hips so he could hit it perfectly. “Right there, Curse- r-right there.”
“I know.” Choso rolls his eyes - at least what seems like it underneath his mask. “That’s why I’m hitting it. Honestly…is my girl dickmatized?” He utters as he sucks on your clit—ultimately erupting a sobbing slurp! that makes him nod. “Mhm, I think my girl’s dickmatized.”
Tipping his head back before you can refute his claims. He then addresses the audience-
“Whaddaya think, my little pervs? Dickmatized already…maybe I should go easy on her, huh?”
@olderandR4w: nooooooooooo
@yoyoyoureinmypuss: NEVER.
@Fishygurodad: Go even harder.
“Tough crowd.” And with that said, Choso’s stuffin’ in just a few more fingers. Each with their own numerous rings and sopping wet sounds accompanying them—slurp!
One.
Two.
You’re counting about three of his prolonged digits pushin’ your tight walls to their limits, rubbing your sweet spots raw with his constant bashing rhythm, before lustful fogginess coils around your brain. And it’s around here that Choso catches onto the glazed look in your eyes and chuckles—
“Ohhhh, you really are dickmatized.” He hums to himself, though you’re sure the professional mic picks it up either way. “And so soon, too. Probably hasn’t had a good finger-”
A fourth being added so that he can scissor apart your velvety channel whilst still multi-tasking with his other fingers to ram into your g-spot.
“-or even a good mouth on ‘er…” To emphasize his point, he presses a dramatically loud kiss upon your clit. One that’s making you bounce n’ bounce your hips atop his clammy face, and grind your throbbing nub down on his pointed nose. The addition of his mask just makes that cool touch even more lecherous. “My poor girl.” Choso still mutters out despite the way he’s gluing your cunt to his mouth. He pulls away from your clit with a loud pop! “What do you think, my slutty audience?”
At the slurring question you’re letting your head down to watch him. “Ch…Curse, what’ve you got on your mind-”
“M’just asking what else you deserve, baby.” He coos. And questions them once more, “How about a little quiz? Which parts of Curse are going to make my poor, poor girl feel the best? A). My fingers. B). My mouth. Or…”
And he pretends to listen to your noisy wet pussy once more.
“Or C…” You could practically feel the grin plastering against your needy pussy. The way his eyes narrow in sinful amusement beneath his mask- you didn’t have to see his full face to know that Choso was enjoying this perhaps way more than he should. “—all of the above.”
And it was futile to think that they would answer anything else.
C floods your vision.
You’re letting your mouth droop, and your gaze meet Choso’s own between your legs- but you’re finding that you don’t have to say a thing for him to already know the answer.
And as expected, he gives a final roll of his tongue atop your clit - before munchin’ on your aching cunt once more. This time, he’s tunneling his fingers deep into your cavern whilst still licking inside with his prolonged tongue—when stretched out, Choso’s tongue could reach almost as deep as his fingers could.
Your cunt was being stretched-out to lengths you never thought about before.
Not only were Choso’s fingers thicker than yours, but his tongue was something ravenous- no matter how much you’re flinching in sensitivity, he isn’t slowing down. “Mmm-” He groans, barely breathing through even his flared nostrils. You’re hit with the distinct feeling that he thinks he doesn’t even have to breathe as long as he had you on him like this - “Mmm, hold still.”
Taking advantage of the fact to lavish your sensitive inches with kiss upon kiss. To grind his nose down purposefully on your clit. To glide his metallic piercing across those hidden spots. To bash your poor g-spot in again and agaaaain with his fingers before his tongue’s coming to the rescue to soothe the slightly raw sting-
So it’s not long before you’re throwing your head back and cumming.
Perhaps the strongest you’ve ever felt when you’re in the throes of your high.
You barter your hips forwards and keep up a steady pace - one that’s making Choso hit the exact spots you wanted him to during the peaks of your high. The utmost peaks. “Shit—shit, just like that.” Breathless. “K-keep going, baby, it feels so good.”
And he doesn’t even answer - too caught up in fucking you through your orgasm.
In the way you shudder above him. In the way you’re only getting even sweeter by the second-
Bodyheat raising a few degrees in temperature; your heart sings and the bed creaks with how much you’re jostling from above. This was even better than touching yourself to videos of him, there were so many thrills of bliss that he’s wringing out of you- like he’d wring out of himself during his solo videos.
With both his fingers and his tongue, slurpin’ and sliding. Those doe-like eyes of his are edging straight to the back of his skull as he feels your drenched walls cleeeeench around his pierced tongue, as though it’s the best thing he’s ever fucking felt. And you’re acting on impulse - you really are - because the coffee table was positioned right beside the foot of the bed.
And all you had to do was reach your arm out to grab the simple camera there. Turning it into your point of view as Choso’s sweaty brown bangs stick to his forehead, as sweat trickles down his temple, as he lets out soft yet unyielding moans whenever you’re squeezing your thighs around his head.
@cockycockowner: no homo but that’s the most beautiful man i’ve ever seen.
@theh0rniestsoldier: woah he’s PUSSYDRUNK
@Fishygurodad: Show me his POV.
@daddytoeknee: Don’t you know that she’s his girl now smh?^^
@daddytoeknee: Movie-core- wya ml??
Choso cocks his head and keeps making out with your pussy in all the ways that make your toes curl—pleasure elongating from your orgasm and spreading into every part of you. Your vessels, your cells, your atoms.
They’re all buzzing with pleasure and still aching for more once Choso finally pulls away with a loud pop! of his lips releasing.
When they do, you’re sneaking a look down at him and noticing just how red n’ swollen they were. Even the skin around his jaw was flushed with the constant ramming contact. And the viewers are just gobbling it up - subscribing bells keep dinging here and there, and everywhere.
Just a single look at his stats on-screen reveal that Choso’s climbed up to 870k just since you’d started this stream.
And it’s after a little while - after he’s had his fill - that the dark-haired man finally taps at the side of your thigh to gesture for you to get up. Though, even then, he’s tightening his grip on your body—going against his own fucking instruction to press a final few open-mouthed kisses before he’s done.
He chases after your pussy with his maw for a little- before he’s finally sitting up.
And it’s only then that he seems to notice the camera in your hand, blinking his glazed eyes a few times to make sure he isn’t dreaming things up. Once it finally registers, the most attractive grin spreads across his face. “You changed POVs?”
“Had to.” You admit, “I wanted them to see how pretty you are…”
“Guess you finally learned about sharing, hm? Greedy girl.” He chuckles darkly to himself. And then he starts looming closer, “But you realize that the show’s not done yet, right?”
You gulp.
@Fishygurodad: Fuck her already, damn!! I’m only here for her.
@2coolforcond0ms(i’mavirgin): Hate to admit it, but he’s lowk right. I think I’ve discovered I’m bi…
@vampzo333: ^^
@girrrrrrrrrrth: ^^
“So impatient.” He looks at the monitor, reading the chat and tuts. “Honestly- so ungrateful. I should end the stream right here and fuck her on my own terms.”
There’s a frenzied flurry of comments- all of which you were sure were begging for Choso not to stop and bashing that one commenter for attempting to start a revolution. To which you’re only giggling and handing over the camera to him.
Choso - as the expert - then positions it somewhere by the edge of the fluffy pillows: where they’d be able to see the expanse of both your bodies and where you’d soon be connected…
And then you’re shedding your clothes in a hurry- making it to your smart blouse before he’s reaching a hand up and tearing through it. The buttons hit the floor, and at your noise of displeasure Choso merely lets out a half-delirious giggle.
He leans in and whispers, “I-I have a Phantom of the Opera t-shirt I’d love for you to wear.”
The change in demeanour gives you utter whiplash, and you can’t help but stare at him open-mouthed.
“What?” Choso asks, next moving on to shrugging off his own fabrics. They’re landing on a heap beside the bed, and your lips slightly part at the display of his red-hot erection—it’s just as large and sensual as all those streams had proven him to be. Polished strawberry top. Slender veins along the middle.
A happy trail of dark brown - nearly black - glistened with the splattered remnant of his precum. Just like the gleaming mess across his chin, mouth, and cheekbones that Choso wore like a medal.
He was slightly longer than even on camera- and even prettier up-close. Way up close- he shuffles his body up yours n’ fucks your tits a few times to dollop out glistening translucent precum across yours tits.
“Lighting’s not the best here.” Choso explains- or at least attempts to pin an explanation onto that. Onto something he’s clearly been wanting to do for so long. “Had to highlight ‘em, baby.”
You scoff, “It’s just…” Throwing a cautious glance at the camera, you lower your voice. “You’re so different from how you are in real life.”
“Oh? And how did you expect me to be, huh?” He positions himself between your legs - wrapping both of them around his waist. Before then thinking better of it and throwing them even more lewdly around his neck instead—his plush priggish tip kisses your entrance. “Did you expect me to be like…”
He trails off.
He doesn’t need to complete the rest of his sentence- and you don’t think you’d have heard him even if he tried.
Because in that very moment, Choso’s jerking his pale hips back a mere few inches—then plopping his globular tip between your pussylips and push-push-puuuuuushing. Fucking past the initial restraint of your first ring of muscle, he’s funneling in some thick inches that make your heels bang against the muscles of his back.
And he doesn’t even seem to notice.
He doesn’t even seem to breathe as he’s letting his cock swerve inside. Get suctioned inside. Get his Prince Albert’s piercing crept down your sensitive innards. Get gobbled up between your greedy legs-
You clench ‘round him and Choso throws his head back with a low, broken moan.
“Oh p-please—” He’s babbling out through unsteady pink lips, a lazy line of dribble starting up from one corner of his mouth. Those long lashes of his flutter as he’s reaching one bulky hand up to grip the headboard, and placing his right one on your hips- keeping you steady.
Fingers trembling. Muscles rippling.
@likezmenpregnant: Woah…make him do that again…
@sixeyesorsixh0les: SUBBY CURSE HELLO??
@whimperwhiteboywhimper: oh I am SO here for this
@Fishygurodad: Whatever…
Your eyes bulge once his throat cracks with what sounds like a whimper—“Please it feels so good.” And though you couldn’t quite make it out, even the chat seemed stunned as Choso punctures out a broken stutter of his hips. Delving a few inches into your goopy insides- though not enough to bottom out completely, as you’re still too wound-up for him to fit completely. And you’re able to pinpoint exactly where he’s using the orbed metal of his first piering. With more to come…“Ngh- oh.” Broken noises emanating into your eardrums and the mic. “It f-feels shooooo good, baby.”
Choso’s head drops into the crook of your neck, and there - and there - you’re feeling his cheeky grin.
And suddenly you’re understanding.
Oh—he was toying with you.
And he was doing it in a way that’d completely fooled you- and perhaps all of his viewers, too.
But before you’re able to open your mouth to bite back something at him, Choso staggers his hips back and gives you a vicious jackhammer with his cock, “O-ohhhhh, my god—” Your toes curl atop his shoulders, slippery with sweat. He hadn’t even rammed all the way inside yet, and yet the slightly left-leaning angle of his shaft was driving you wild.
Big and thick.
Running the slick globe of his tip down your walls, Choso probes a direct hit to that spot you loved so much. And he knew you loved it so much—he’d mapped out your entire pussy earlier, of course.
And yet, he’s still gasping as though the pearls gates of heaven had descended right here and there. He’s letting his sweet caramel eyes widen convincingly as he peers down at you, “I-is that…the spot, baby?”
@Curse’swifey: HE sounds SO NGH.
@daddytoeknee: Daddy likey…
@daddytoeknee: Also Movie would’ve really LOVED this, huh?
You hiss, “Curse, you should already know-”
“But how could I know—?” He exclaims. “This is my first time, after all…” Then Choso’s plastering his clammy tattooed hips - with a snake on the side - to yours, as though the two were connected by the force of the world’s strongest magnets: pulling and pushing, pulling and pushing. Every single battering ram of his mazing cocktip ends up lodged against your sweetly bruised g-spot, marking his circumference out with the sheer pace at which he was hitting it.
“Shit—” Your nails clench on the sheets, and feeling jealous- Choso guides them to fist his hair instead. “Shit, right there. It f-feels so good-”
“There?” The once-nerdy man breathes out in awe. Disbelief every single time - or at least the mocking imitation of one. Swipin’ a line of precum down your nervy spot once more, “Th-there, baby—?”
Something breathy- octaves higher in his tone. “Yes- yes there-”
“There-” Choked up and ruined. Husky grunts hatching in the back of his throat. There was something there in his words that you couldn’t quite pinpoint—a sort of undertone of primal need, primal amusement as he ruined your pussy with his speedily pap-papping hips, but acted as though he had no idea what he was doing. Every single syllable uttered was met with a thorough whack of his curved cockhead against your particular spot- “There there there there- there-”
“Fuh-fuuuck-”
“So this g-spot’s really m-mine now, baby?” Choso asks.
You whine, back arching off the mattress. “Yes-”
“Does she really have my mark on it now?”
“Yes…?” Eyes shooting open as you’re half-registering his question in your hazed brain. He bores his dark eyes down at you intensely. And as though to emphasize his point, you’re feeling his perfectly round tip squeezing into your throat by the next few thrusts. Deeper and deeper.
His Jacob’s Ladder starting to ease its frigid way past your entrance and glide across the roof of your cunt. It was a sensation like nothing you’ve ever felt before.
Choso probes even more, “I-is she really shaped to the shape of my cock now?”
“Cho—ngh.” Quickly shutting your cockdrunken self up. Quickly reaching a ringed hand up to squeeze your throat- before he’s languidly snaking his way up to squeezing your pretty cheeks together.
Smushing your face in a way that was almost disrespectful- though, not that you were in any state of mind to call him out on it. And there’s a mean inkling in Choso’s tone as he coos, “Awww, b-baby, why aren’t you answering me?” Another rude slap! of his hips make your own sear in flames- that damn strength of his. Those damn piercings of his. “Is your poor, poor Curse not good enough?”
Before you can answer, he’s looking at the blinking camera.
“My babies, my girl doesn’t love my cock anymore…”
“I do—I do-”
Squeezing his doughy-soft restraints - those contrastingly mean fingers of his - around your cheeks. He’s managing to smush your mouth shut and make you echo out the most pathetically pleading whines—as he fucks you. Determined and targeted.
The glossy rotund edge of his tip presses against your g-spot a few more times before you’re managing to make yourself take a peek at the comments on the monitor.
Almost too far away- almost too blurry with the tears in your eyes.
@Curse’snewestharem: Awwwww poor bby </33
@CCpervnextdoor: I would LOVE your cock, Curse!!
@girrrrrrrrrrth: is it just me or is he teasing us?
@Fishygurodad: ^^Yeah, he’s totally a fraud.
@Curseswombmommy: ^^girl shut up
“Th-they really think you’re oh-so-innocent…” You’re whispering up at him. Overstimulated tears in your eyes.
Breath hitching every time he’s surging his tattooed hips forwards and hitting that one spot particularly hard. Though there was never such a thing as too hard…
And Choso’s shooting you a secret smile - one just between the two of you - before morphing his expression into that of picture-perfect innocence. Roleplaying the demeanor of his nerdy self on campus, mixed with the utterly sultry—sexual way he was draaaaagging his lengthy cock in and out of your cunt.
Eventually, Choso’s emptying his inches out n’ bruising the bottom of your pussy. All of his nine - you seriously felt nine throbbing inches - inches shaping out the in-betweens of your legs. All of the beaded barbells of his Jacob’s Ladder massaging inside- the slitherin’ feeling of them making themselves at home. Zig-zagging and slithering.
He feels the sponginess of your cervix and presses a hand down on your abdomen just to make sure, before changing that excitement into one of almost-genuine bafflement- “I-I really bottomed out?” Choso’s pinkish bottom lip juts out and quivers dramatically.
“Of course, you did.” You’re ready to scoff-
But whatever sarcastic sound was in the back of your throat gets quickly dissolved at the sight of Choso with genuine tears in his eyes. Glistening. “But I never- ngh, never thought I’d be able to.” He puts some more merciless pressure on your stomach that makes you buck—
And the only thing you can do is let your head tip back into the pillows.
The only thing you can do is let out a few mottled moans as he rubs over the small tummy bulge he was fucking into you. Pushing his palm down so that he could feel it.
Whispering out, “I-I never thought this pussy would claim my cock as- ngh, hers, hm?” And for the moment there, you’re completely sure that he isn’t talking to you. Rather, your pussy that was sobbing out squelches after every one of his jackhemmerin’ thrusts. “And it’s not too big, right?”
“N-never—”
“Because m’just a nerd with a- hngh, biiiiiig fuckin’ cock.” How pitiful, right? He’s letting his long, dark lashes flutter as Choso avoids meeting your eyes—as though in shyness. He drills his hips even deeper - one unforgettable strike after the other following every word he spoke. “Just a big- fat- fucking- cock-”
“Please—!” Eventually, your arms reach upwards and you’re grabbing ahold of whatever part of him it is you could reach first. Which just-so-happened to be his bulky deltoids.
Choso’s brows genuinely seem to furrow at the lewdness of you digging your nails into his muscles, leaving your marks for everyone and anyone to see even after this stream has ended. And so he continues in his faux-innocent tone, “Oh? Did that feel good, baby?”
Purposefully slidin’ his cock across your g-spot so that you’d have to cry out. “Y-yeeees—”
“I didn’t even know, baby.” His mouth hangs open, and the most lustrous squelches! echo between your two connected bodies. Your cunt n’ his precum were making such messes…“I had no idea…”
His Jacob’s Ladder leaves your channel feeling raw n’ overstimulated- you feel raw and overstimulated.
And you’re laid-out on the bed dazed and feeling so fucking good as Choso’s picking his pace up even more, you notice for a split-second that his hands have moved. No longer was he holding onto your cheeks n’ watching you squirm—now, the nerdy man hooks both hands around your sweaty thighs and pins them close to his body.
Holding them in place as he leans down, down, dooooooown until the caps of your knees hit your tits.
You’re keening at the stretch, and a searing burn spreads from between your pussy and along your hamstrings. How did he even hide such strength underneath those soft knitted vest? Such a body?
Before you know it, you’re being pressed into your first-ever mating press.
And Choso gapes as though he was just as bewildered as you, “O-oh…did I do that?” He’s fucking asking you—however, when your stunned expression bears no answer, he turns and asks the same question from the camera. The bursts of replies obviously agree n’ tease him. And he’s shaking his head ever-so-slightly, “Did I really bend you in- heh-” A slight chuckle escapes him. “—half, baby?”
And what else can you do but nod and nod and nod—?
“I think this is called a…breeding press?” He cocks his head ever-so-slightly, before shaking his head. “No wait- a mating press.”
“A m-mating press.” You’re repeating lamely.
“I c-can’t believe I’ve folded you into a mating press, baby.” Choso nearly snarls at himself, his hips accelerating until that rouge-tipped cock of his was almost nothing but a blur. “Can’t believe—s’like my body is moving before my mind, ngh. My fat cock’s not hittin’ you too deep, right, my girl?”
“Not in the l-least…”
And he really was long enough to make each and every probe feel as though it was slam-slam-slamming into your throat- the capped crown of his shaft was entering crevices n’ crannies you hadn’t even known you possessed. All marked out precisely by the silvery orb of his Prince Albert’s.
Just then, after your answer, Choso reaches his left hand up to wrap ‘round your throat - and then hauls you back down to meet his slapping hips.
A thrust even harder than the ones before it.
Your breath gets snatched out of your lungs, dissipating into the heady air filled with the contact-riddled sounds of sex. Hard and fast. Only getting harder the longer you have your ankles looped ‘round his neck—“Not too hard, is it, baby?” Chosos asks you once more.
And you don’t have anything to spit out besides, “Oh f-fuck off.”
He gasps dramatically-
Well, not exactly dramatically. But in a way you knew was fake, and in a way that sends the chat exploding into comments.
The nerd pouts cutely, “Well, that’s not very nice…”
You’re rolling your eyes—right before Choso’s genuinely sending them rolling with his two fingers clamped around your clit. Using the silvery edges of his rings, he runs a few massages that end up with you sobbing and blabbering out your pleasure.
@Curse’swifey: FUCKKKKKKKKKK they’re both so hot. THEY’RE BOTH SO RUINED.
@peepeesarebetterfictional: they both look like they’re gonna cum soon hehe
@bewbsRlife: CUM CUM CUM CUM CUM
Biting back. “I would argue th-that that’s not very nice, either.”
“But m’just trying to make my gorgeous girl cum…” And from where he’d been looming his pretty face above yours, Choso then lets his head droop down between your tits. During his ravenous pace, he’s roverin’ his mouth all over to kiss and suck at your tits, your nipples.
His cold lip ring drags across your left areola- and he catches onto the way you’re shivering. Before Choso then grabs your nipple between his lips n’ hollows his cheeks out sucking—“Promise m’just trying to make you feel- hah, good.” He mutters, slightly muffled. “Promise I just wanna fuck my cock raw if it means making my lifelong crush feel good…”
“Cho- Curse, are you…?” Your eyes widen.
And his own flap droopily a few times, “Hmmm?”
And that proved it.
That proved it.
Because Choso Kamo could be pretending to be a stuttering, panting, blushing mess on your heavenly cunt all he wanted- he could pretend to be pussydrunk out of his mind. But at the end of the day, it was impossible to hide when pretend turned into something…more.
When the cocksure streamer that’d been driving you wild all this time morphs into the contentedly pussy-whipped nerd you expected him to be deep down inside.
His eyes genuinely glazed and blinking longingly.
His hair drenched in sweat.
His skin flushed with need- and only flushing even more fiercely the longer he kept his eyes on you.
Without much ado, you’re throwing your hands around his neck and tuggin’ him as far as he could crane his neck when his entire body feels like collapsing onto you and into your maddening pussy.
Choso pistons his hips slightly upwards to hear the slurp of his Jacob’s Ladder sliding across your walls, and he grooooans—
“Curse, baby…” You hum.
“Mhmmmm?” He replies with half-lidded eyes. Barely focused.
This was the big, bad #1 streamer on C4mBoyfriends? As though sensing your thoughts, Choso’s fingers grow a little more frenzied on your clit. “I need you to cum inside, okay?”
He jolts at the idea- that sinful, sinful idea. Before chuckling, “Never had any other plan, baby.” And then he turns to the camera, “What do you think, fuckers? Think my girl deserves to cum?”
@Fishygurodad: Yes.
@Curse’swifey: YES.
@likezmenpregnant: Yesssss~
@girrrrrrrrrrth: yesyesyes.
@daddytoeknee: Hell yeah-
He’s holding out a little longer to make sure there wasn’t a single ‘no’ in there - and had there been one, you’re sure that Choso would have stopped and edged your incoming orgasm until it was a wave of complete agreement.
Luckily for you, they liked you.
And all he does now is press down harder on your g-spot from inside, lingering, and massage a pretty heart on your clit once more, lingering—before a final, thorough stroke is all it takes for you to hurtle into your second high of the night.
For you to arch your body into his chest, and shutter your eyes. “Ch-Cho…”
Barely a whisper. He’s crashing his mouth into yours to make sure that secret between you two isn’t revealed. And you’re moaning deeply into Choso’s mouth as you cum—“Feels so- oh. It feels so…”
“Mhmmmm.”
Unable to even find the words.
The only thing you can do is riiiiiide out the massive wave of your high. It’s torrential; pure bliss floods your system from head-to-toe, and no matter how much you’re squirming your overstimulated hips, Choso only succeeds in batterin’ away his pierced cock into eeeevery single hidden sweet spot inside of you. The ones that prolonged your bliss and left spikes of euphoria leading up to your brain.
Your cunt clenched so tightly around his cock- almost as though you didn’t want him to even pull out. And Choso’s sweaty head drops once more into the crook of your neck as he cums with a shudder.
The knot between his brows deepening, the bedsheet around his knees bunching up as he surges his body upwards. Almost animalistically.
Choso bottoms out his furious, twitching cock and keeps it there- “Oh, fuck…” It didn’t sound like he was acting once his bawling red divot starts splatterin’ out more milky white wads. Deeep in the back of your pussy, right where your womb was, Choso puddles out his ecstasy in long ribbons. “Oh fuck fuck fuck—fuck. Always knew it’d feel this good.”
Wave upon wave.
Toes curling. Eyes scrunching shut.
If you thought his moans were sensual before, then you weren’t prepared for the ones your pussy was able to drag out of him - ragged and hollow utterances of your name. Over and over like a broken record, like a mantra.
He’s fucking into you to milk them out of his hefty balls- then fucking you again just to pump those webbed wads right back in. From the top of his rotund tip and dooooooown to the tufts of hairs at his base. All nine inches of him being used to stuff you till the brim—
You’re sure your insides look like an utter fuckin’ mess by the time he’s slowing his tattooed hips down ever-so-slightly—still shaking from the aftermath of his orgasm. This was far stronger than anything he’s ever experienced before.
Drunkenly, you’re blinking your eyes up at him. “Always?”
He smiles, “Ever since our first lesson of Film 101.” Admitting, he lovingly wipes off a bit of his cum you were foaming between your pussylips. “You referenced Pride and Prejudice when talking about the best lines of dialogue of all time, and I-I’d been a goner since then.”
“Corny…” You snort. Though you can’t help the flutter of your heart.
“So um- coffee after this?”
“It better be dinner.”
He laughs in agreement. “Also I bought a vibrating piercing the other day and have been dying to try it…”
Your eyes widen.
And once you’re helping him pull out- Choso reaches for the camera and gets a good shot of the cum leaking between your legs. Before you’re both waving at it, “Thank you for joining us, today—this was the most fun I’ve had on stream yet- heh.”
You’re shooting the camera a pretty smile, too.
And Choso kisses the corner of your cheeks, “Until next time. This has been Curse and Movie.”
@girrrrrrrrrrth: holy fuck??
@Curse’swifey: WAIT WHAAAAAAAAAAAAT NO WAY-
@bewbsRlife: HOLD ON-
@CCpervnextdoor: SAY SIKE RN?
@bipplruletheworld: oh my god that’s amazing.
@likezmenpregnant: Oh, a love story for the ages~
@yoyoyoureinmypuss: YOU TWO LOOKING FOR A THIRD??
@Fishygurodad: Damn.
@Fishygurodad: Hmu when he messes up.
@daddytoeknee: Stfu he won’t.
@daddytoeknee: Also I totally called it <3
A/N. I did NOT plan to have me inserted and beefing with Toji Fushiguro but here we are-
Welcome to my masterlist for The Last of Us. Below you can find all my works sorted by characters and the length of the fanfiction. Hope you enjoy it! ♡
(Smut is marked with *)
*:･ﾟ.✧*:･ﾟ.✧*:･ﾟ.✧*:･ﾟ.✧*:･ﾟ.✧*:･ﾟ.✧*:･ﾟ.✧*:･ﾟ.✧*
Joel Miller
One-Shots:
Good girl *
Aftermath *
Heavy Hearts
Fine Line *
Perfect For You *
Kisses and Tea
Something To Cry Over (Part 1 I Part 2)*
On Your Terms *
The Bolter (Part 1 I Part 2 I Part 3)
Favorite Place *
Made To Take It (Part 1 I Part 2 I Part 3 I Part 4 I Part 5) * (x Tommy)
Empty Promises
Just You *
Punishment *
Look What You Made Me Do *
His Favorite Girl *
Desires *
One Good Reason *
Fuck The Cold (Part 1 I Part 2 I Part 3) *
Something Like Safety *
The Girl from the Bar *
All Mine, All Yours *
Beg for it * (x Tommy)
Lessons (Part 1 I Part 2) *
Disappearing
A Slice of The Cake * (x Tommy)
Love Like Poison *
Headcanons Toxic
House Tour (Part 1 I Part 2 I Part 3) *
All Of You
Kiss The Pain Away
Headcanons Mean *
Goodbye
Little Pet * (x Reed Richards)
Where The Road Leads *
Stunning Star
'Lil Brat *
Merciless *
Forgiveness
Perfect *
Eyes On Me * (x Javi)
Count To Ten *
Pocket Pussy *
All In *
Headcanons Jackson Mean!Joel *
Back For More *
Bed Chem *
Warm Within *
Hold It *
Shape Of My Heart *
HCs Breeding Kink with Softdom!Joel *
Shower Thoughts *
Series:
Alienated
After The End
Summary: Being the preacher’s daughter was very problematic, especially because you couldn't stop having sinful thoughts. When Joel Miller, your dad’s best friend and neighbor, found your erotic magazine, he decided to show you something better than that unreal filth.
Warnings: 18+(MDNI), p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, mock sympathy, praise, power imbalance, age gap, bondage elements, gentle slut shaming, objectification, use of pet name (bunny), overstimulation. (Joel is an ASSHOLE, JOEL IS IN HIS 40S, READER IS IN HER 20S, dad’s best friend trope, inexperienced/naive reader, Joel is your neighbor, loss of virginity, masturbation, slight bribing, use of spreader bar, use of whips/floggers and impact toys, use of vibrators, vibrator insertion (mild), use of collar, use of nipple clamps, use of ball gag, use of X-cross, pussy spanking(mild), mention of religion,belly bulge, dom/sub undertones. PLEASE READ AUTHOR’S NOTE, I BEG OF YOU GUYS BEFORE READING.
Author's note: Please read at your own risk. This blog has a lot of bondage elements and gets very naughty which can be too much for some people. Reader is naive so this blog might not be for everyone. Remember that this is fiction and this blog doesn't indicate how Joel Miller acts in the game or series. Again, please read at your own risk and take a break if needed because it is ALOT. I’ve done a lot of research for this blog to make it as realistic as possible. I tried to make Joel talk her through everything he was doing to my best advantage. Sorry for typos or errors Hope you enjoy it. <3
Word Count: 10k
There was something unusual about Joel Miller. He was a cranky farmer who happened to be the first person to live so close to your dad’s house in years. From the moment he moved onto the property next to you, you had a very nasty gut feeling about him.
The first time you ever interacted with Joel was when your dad sent you over to his house to give him a case of beer and some of your leftover baked goods as a housewarming gift.
Something about this property came off as dull, the energy wasn't pleasant the closer you got to the house. You swallowed a lump forming in your throat and grasped onto the beer’s cardboard carton tight.
The house was worn down with two stories, it looked like it was deteriorating by the minute. You couldn't believe someone actually paid for this place. You believed it would be vacant permanently due to the location and the appearance.
You roamed closer to the porch, it held an overused, wooden rocking chair on it. A worn-out blue hat laid against the center of the chair and two empty beer bottles rested beside the chair.
The excitement of having a new neighbor was beginning to fade as you made your way up the stairs of the chipped porch that groaned with every step you took.
You brought your attention to the white front door and halted once you caught that the door was open only a narrow crack.
Instead of knocking, you pushed the door open just enough for you to get through. You assumed to yourself that maybe he just forgot to shut his door.
“Mr. Miller?” You called out while scanning around the house. Inside the house had brown wooden walls with picture frames of a young girl with short dark blonde hair. She looked no older than 12 years old.
You questioned what happened because you never saw the girl around.
You strolled further into the house, reaching the living room. It was very straightforward, he had a red and shady green plaid sofa against the wall with an aged television in front of it. In between the sofa and television was a plain wooden table which carried an ashtray and the television’s remote.
You heard heavy footsteps coming down the creaky stairs of the house and your attention went to the bottom of them. You eyed as Joel came down the stairs grumbling something under his breath. He halted in disturbance once his eyes landed on you.
“Hello Mr. Miller, these are a housewarming gift from my dad and me.” You awkwardly greeted him, putting the beer and baked goods onto the table. “We are your neighbors.”
“How did you get in?” was all he answered back with, interrupting your greetings.
“You left the door open.” You responded, your chest stinging at the aggravation in his deep Southern drawl.
“Get out,” Joel demanded, glancing you directly in the eyes.
You froze at his harsh response because you first believed he was fooling around. But when his face remained wholly stern, you obeyed his demand and left his house without another word.
After that strange moment, Joel dropped by to merely thank your dad for the housewarming gift and they clicked immediately.
While he ignored everything about you and treated you like a ghost, your dad's bond with Joel became stronger by the day. Joel never left your dad's side.
Once Joel learned that your dad was the preacher for the rural town you lived in, he began attending his services every single Sunday. Their friendship kept thriving to the point where your dad would even invite Joel over for Sunday dinner after church. For some reason your dad adored him but you couldn't stomach Joel’s presence at all.
Over the next few months, Joel was coming over daily to see your dad. He was always fixing things for your dad and bringing him fresh chicken eggs then in return he gave Joel advice on the Word of God and a few beers.
You didn't know how they became best friends because they were the exact opposite.
You always found the balance in their friendship very uneven because Joel never once invited your dad over for Bible study or hosted dinner at his place like how your dad did. Joel was always quick to give the excuse that his house was cluttered because he was still making an effort to settle into the place.
You knew it was a lie.
You summed up that he hated people on his property.
As the months continued to go by, Joel stopped brushing past you in silence. Instead, he was now muttering short answers when you managed to catch him in conversation.
From bits you overheard between your dad and Joel, you learned that Joel grew up in Arlington with his dad and younger brother, Tommy.
Joel was in his late 40’s and spent decades of his life farming. He’s been divorced for 12 years, claiming his ex-wife wanted different things. You realized he never once talked about the little girl you saw in his house.
Eventually, seeing Joel became part of your daily routine. You slowly noticed that you were reacting to him without meaning to. You lingered in the bathroom each morning a little longer, styling your hair before he came over. You caught yourself paying more attention to how you looked whenever you knew he might be around.
Things changed once your dad took the offer to go to Louisiana for two weeks to teach the gospel with other small-town preachers.
He left you at the house alone, pushing Joel to stop coming around. Joel went back to being a man of few words towards you, only giving you periodic grumbles.
Over the week, you kept up with your routine of clamping damn clothes onto the clothesline in the yard. But as the days went by, your attention slowly drifted more to across the fence. Joel was always outside working, glistening in sweat and getting dirty. He would throw hay bales onto his shoulders like they weighed feathers and moved through the Texas heat like it was nothing.
You started to catch things about him that you never paid attention to before. Like how he was a shield of muscles and the way his dirt-stained shirts would cling to his body, displaying the muscles. You watched him longer than you needed to.
He had a bad habit of praising his horses as he fed them which prompted you to feel a desire you had never encountered before. The tone he spoke to the horses was something softer than anything he ever used towards you, it was the first time you ever heard him use such a delicate voice.
The next week, all you could think about was Joel Miller.
At night, you found yourself digging under your mattress to retrieve your erotic magazines you'd been hiding for months.
Whenever your dad would go to the store or go to sleep, you risked glimpsing over the pages. You knew it was wrong but you couldn't take your eyes off of it, you found it quite fascinating.
To get the magazines, you traded the gas station clerk your flavorsome blueberry pie to get dozens of copies of those X-rated magazines. The pie got the clerk to not inform your dad about it.
As you flipped through the pages you wondered what Joel liked. Suddenly, you found yourself bringing your hands down to your sleep shorts, playing with the hems as a usual ache rose in your lower stomach. Your exhales got choppy as you crept your hand up to your chest, cupping one of your breasts with passion.
You stared at the page as your fingers circled around your tender nipples before pinching them. A new sensation hummed through your body as a small noise exited your mouth.
Your eyes scanned the adult magazine in curiosity. The model was on her knees with her hands cuffed behind her back, a man’s cock deep in her mouth. The man held the woman’s hair up in a loose ponytail, using it as a fake handle. Saliva leaked from her chin down to her as she looked up at him.
Your hands trailed from your nipples down to your lower torso until they reached the waistband of your shorts. You proceeded to look at the page before passionately snaking your hands down your shorts. Your fingers skimmed over the damp cotton of your underwear, your clit aching in a throbbing manner.
Your fingers explored your clothed pussy as your eyes went on with scanning over the profane page. You lightly bit down on your lips as you brought your fingers to your clit, the sensitive nerve caused your hips to unintentionally shudder.
You wondered if Joel enjoyed having his cock sucked. If he was the type to be patient with you and let you do your thing with it or if he liked taking your head and fuck your throat to purposely make you gag around him.
The thought made you press against your covered clit more firmly, a mild moan departing from your lips. You then ran your fingers against your damp folds before bringing the fingers back to your clit.
You circled it while imagining Joel, the familiar feeling of longing evolved in your lower belly. Your head fell back onto your pillow as your hips greedily buckled against your hand for some more pleasure.
You placed the magazine beside you before you closed your eyes. Your brain kept replaying Joel working in his yard, reminiscing on how smooth his Southern drawl sounded when praising.
“Joel…”You accidentally moaned his name, circling your covered clit at a snappy pace as you felt a foreign sensation developing in you. Your cunt clenched around nothing as you extended your legs wider, not slowing down your pace even though the feeling proceeded.
The sounds of your wetness loaded the air around you as your fluids leaked out of your cunt, making a mess on the cotton of your underwear.
You thought of Joel’s grunts when he lifted up something hefty.
“Please Joel…” You whimpered as the sensation had you on the edge, your legs quivering gently. Every time you felt that fierce tingling feeling, you slowed down your pace around your clit. You never pushed yourself over the limit because you were intimidated to go past it.
Eventually, you stopped massaging the throbbing nerve, the intense feeling in your stomach hastily dying down.
You rested still against the mattress as you snaked your hands out of your sleep shorts. In guilt, you took a look down at the magazine sitting beside you.
You couldn't believe that you just touched yourself to the idea of your dad's best friend.
————
Your dad was supposed to come home today but early in the morning he called you to inform you that he was staying another day due to a bad storm passing through his area.
Since his phone call woke you up, you decided to get up entirely and be productive. You did your hair and dressed in a red and white plaid dress, a dark red bow visible at the center. You brushed your teeth but then when you went to wash your face, the water came to an abrupt stop.
You uttered a profanity about the house being old as you tried to turn the faucet again. Water sprayed everywhere so you hastily twisted the faucet off but splashes of water still dripped on the wood below you.
The pipes were leaking water quite rapidly. You scrambled for one of your hand rags and wrapped it around the dripping metal.
The water was leaking too excessively for the rag to do any justice, instead, it began saturating the rag. You puffed out a panicked exhale and closed your eyes for a brief second to think.
At the rate the water was leaking, you couldn't wait for your dad to get back from Louisiana so your only other option was Joel. The thought of getting on Joel’s property didn't feel good, especially after what happened the first time you did.
Maybe he would be nice about it but you doubted that.
With the guilt of touching yourself to him, you couldn’t do nothing but curse at the universe for making the sink break out of all days.
You decided on heading over to Joel’s anyway. In quickness, you departed from your house and strolled towards his own.
Every step you took closer to the beige house generated nervousness that blasted through your body. Your legs nearly forgot how to walk when you saw that his truck was in the driveway.
You were so glad that he wasn't doing yard work today because you knew his eyes would be scorching into your flesh at the fact that you were on his property.
You made it up the creaky stairs of the porch, swallowing a lump in your throat before you halted at the door. You brought your small fist to the wood, knocking against it.
You found yourself smoothing your dress of non-existent wrinkles and flattening any flyaways on your hair. Your body grew anxious, straightening your posture as you waited for him to open the door.
You heard his heavy footsteps from behind the door then the sound of the door unlocking. He pushed it open only for him to be visible , his facial expression was crammed with perplexity.
“You just don't listen, hm?” He greeted, a cigarette burning between his lips as his eyebrows scrunched at the sight of you. His eyes motioned from your eyes down to the dress as he breathed out the smoke.
“My sink is leaking and I don't know what to do.” You blurted out a reply, watching as his facial features eased. “It’s going to flood my bathroom eventually.”
“I’ll fix it.” He answered back before the conversation went any further. Joel then closed the door in your face, locking it.
You uneasily stood on the porch with your hands intertwined as you paced around the porch.
In a couple of minutes, Joel came outside the house with a tool box, grumbling something to himself. In irritation, he stepped off his porch and you followed behind him.
You could hear your heart against your earbuds as you walked beside Joel’s towering figure. You shot a few glances at him, his dark curls and beard was peppered with silver. His clenched jawline was practically perfect and his eyes were very charming. This was the closest you'd ever been to him that you could smell woodsy spice on his skin.
The silence didn't last long because his eyes darted down to you. “Is your daddy coming home today?” He questioned, his stare sizzling against your face like he was studying your entire facial structure.
“No, tomorrow.” You answered and gently crossed your arms against your chest. His presence dominated the air and it was causing a gut feeling to come back to you. He gave you a deep hum as a response and brought his eyes back in front of him.
You finally made it to your house and got inside. You brought Joel into your room and showed him the bathroom connected to it. It felt so out of place having him in your room, especially after the lustful things you did last night. You pursed your lips together as a throb unintentionally pulsed between your legs.
For the next thirty minutes, he worked on the sink as you engaged in a slight conversation with him. You used it as an excuse to observe every inch of him as you leaned against the wooden frame of the door.
Once he was done, he requested that you turn on the sink to see if it worked to your liking. You stepped right beside Joel before turning the faucet. The water ran smoothly as you softly cheered at the fixed sink. When you went to look up at him, his eyes were already on yours. A minor smile was threatening to pull on his lips as he turned the water off.
“The fitting came loose,” He explained before stepping away from you. “No wonder the water was getting everywhere.” Joel said while collecting his tools, putting them away extremely neatly into the box.
“Thank you so much, Mr. Miller.” You said before strolling away from the bathroom. Since you haven't been baking much recently, you couldn't send Joel on his way with a treat.
Instead of dismissing him empty-handed, you went to your dresser and took up your money pouch. “I don't want to send you on your way without anything.” You elucidated while digging in the cotton of the pouch. His heavy footsteps thudded into your bed room but your back stayed turned to him.
“I don't need anything.” He muttered, his deep voice echoing around the room. You brushed him off and took the folded money out of your purse. You had about one hundred dollars in it so you took fifty of it for him.
“Where did you get this?” He asked in such a strict tone that your body jolted, briskly turning to him.
He stood by your nightstand, your erotic magazine in the possession of his large hand. Your eyes widened in fright as you stared at him.
You forgot to hide the magazine back under your mattress because you fell asleep.
Your heart frequently drummed against your rib cages as Joel opened the magazine. His eyebrows furrowed as he flipped to the pages that you had folded with a scoff.
Your favorite pages.
“‘S what you look at when you're home alone?”
You didn't reply.
You were frozen in place, swallowing a lump of fear in your throat as his eyes proceeded to check the page. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself.” He spoke before suddenly shutting the magazine and flashing his furious gaze at you.
“This is filth, sweetheart.” He added while rolling the magazine in his calloused hand and stepping closer to you. The grip on your money pouch grew tighter as he tssked under his breath.
“I’m taking this away.” He declared while pointing the magazine at you.
You couldn't believe this was happening.
“No…” You faintly pleaded, glancing up at his towering figure.
“No?” He mirrored your response with a humorless chuckle, tilting his head in a taunting manner. “Would you like me to tell your daddy?” He brought the rolled magazine under your chin, pushing against the skin, prompting you to lift it up.
In a flash, you shook your head in debate. A smirk grew on the corner of his lip as his tongue poked against the inside of his cheek. “Then I am taking it away,” You blinked at him as your lips parted to say something. You couldn't find the words.
He analyzed your face longer than necessary, the glimpse in his eyes indicating how dissatisfied he was. He then stepped away, mumbling something under his breath before getting his tool box from the bathroom.
Just like that he was gone.
With your magazine.
—-
The moment of Joel taking your magazine replayed in your head for the rest of the day . Paranoia washed over you because you knew what was coming next. You were readying yourself for the angry phone call from your dad, explaining that Joel told him everything.
Joel was your dad's best friend.
Of course, he was going to notify him about the magazine.
You came up with the idea to bake him your blueberry pie, the same pie you utilized to hush the gas station clerk.
Your scrumptious blueberry pie always worked so you decided to give it a try with Joel.
By the time you were finished baking it and making sure it was perfect to the taste, the sun had set.
After the pie cooled, you hurried to put on your dress. The dress was entirely made out of white lace, it had a minor V-neck and ruffles on the waistband that embraced your figure nicely. You wanted to look as pretty as possible to convince Joel not to say anything to your dad.
Finally, you began to head over to Joel’s house, your palms lightly sweating from uneasiness as you held your grip on the pie dish firmly.
Once you fully made it over there, you started to sense his gaze on you. He was sitting on his porch with a cigarette hanging between his lips again, a beer bottle resting in his large hand. Low country oldies played on his aged radio as you strolled to the porch and up the steps.
You were surprised when he didn't warn you to get off his property. Instead, he looked up at you as he took a long drag of his burning cigarette.
“I made you a berry pie.” You elucidated softly, his intense stare bringing your voice unsteady.
He exhaled the smoke into your direction and hummed as a response, taking a glance at the sweet pie in your possession.
“You trying to bribe me?”
You froze then straightened your posture. “No, I just wanted to thank you for fixing my sink.” The lie rolled off your tongue easier than it should be for a preacher's daughter.
Without a word, he brought his hand out as an unreadable expression evolved on his dark features. You thought twice but then stepped closer, giving him the pan of pie.
He placed the pie into his lap before taking another inhale of his cigarette then blowing it out. He brought this attention from you to his beer bottle before bringing the glass to his lips.
You saw that as a sign to depart because he was ignoring you standing there. “Enjoy your night, Mr. Miller.” You said before stiffly turning away from him and heading to the porch steps.
He didn't bulge one bit.
You set your expectations for Joel too grandly.
You were just going to have to deal with your dad.
You felt Joel’s gaze burning into your back as you motioned towards the steps.
“Wanna come in?” You heard Joel’s mutter from behind you.
You halted as your shoulders unintentionally lowered in relief, a tiny smile maturing on your lips as you turned back to face him.
He got up from his chair with a grunt, dropping his cigarette onto the wood of the porch and crushing it with his heavy boot.
“I would love to.”
Joel pushed the front door open in a swift motion then held it open for you as his eyes commanded you to come in. You did just that, shyly walking into the house. He closed the door behind him, shutting the two locks he had bolted on the door.
You followed behind him in silence as your eyes scanned your surroundings.
Joel Miller invited you into his house without a fuss.
You must have been dreaming.
When you two got into the dining room, he placed the pie and his beer bottle onto the circular wooden table and walked to the kitchen.
You took it upon yourself to take a seat around the table, observing as he took out two ceramic plates and a knife.
“Want some milk?” He offered in a reserved tone, taking out class cups from his cabinets and heading towards the fridge.
“Yes please.” You replied back as you glanced down at your covered lap and wiped your trembling palms against the lace of your dress.
Joel took the milk from out of his fridge, the glass jar looked tiny in his large hand. He strolled over to you with the utensils and placed the plate and cup in front of you before pouring milk into your cup. You glanced at how big his forearms were, green veins bulging through the skin.
“Milked the cow this morning so it’s fresh.” He informed in a mumble while placing the jar down and taking a seat across from you.
Joel was the first to attend to the pie, stretching to the center of the table and digging the knife into the dessert. He cut a rather thick slice out of the pie then snatched your plate from in front of you. You were surprised when he took your plate and dropped the pie onto it.
You lightly straightened your posture from the harsh tension as he cut a piece for himself. He brought it to his plate and examined it momentarily with his fork.
Joel then placed the fork with pie to his mouth, tasting the flavor of it. You followed his action and went in for a bite, the taste of sweetness immediately hitting your tongue.
For a couple of seconds, he chewed on the pie while scrunching his face. Your heart dropped as you continued to watch him eat the pie.
Maybe Joel didn't like sweets?…
“How long have you been baking for?” He ultimately inquired, glancing at you while scarcely tilting his head.
“Basically all my life.”
He looked down at the pie then back at you, “You deserve a bakery.”
The breath you were holding in, exhaled through your nose as a smile rose on your lips. You figured it was the perfect time to ask about your dad and the magazine. You eyed as he brought the glass of milk up to his lips, taking a few sips to enhance the sweetness of the pie on his tastebuds.
“Mr. Miller?” You blurted out, your voice ringing with instability.
He carelessly carried the glass down from his lips, his tongue gliding against his moustache to take excess wetness of the milk away.
His action instantly caused an ache to form between your thighs, making you clench your thighs under the table.
“Call me Joel.” He said, digging his fork back into the pie.. “Ain’t that old.”
You breathed out a small laugh and you nodded your head in understanding.
“I was wondering if I could get back…”You trailed off but halted when his captivating eyes made their way to yours, staring into your soul. “Um.”
“Why do you want it so badly?” He sternly raised the question, leaning back in his chair as he continued to chew.
In embarrassment, you didn’t reply and brought a forkful of blueberry filling to your lips.
“I ripped it up and threw it away.” Joel added, pushing the silence between you out of the way. “The stuff in the magazine ain't genuine and it sure ain't good for your brain.”
You continued to eat your slice as his stare lingered on you. “Can you keep this between us and not tell my dad?” You pleaded as your last resort..
“I’ll have to think about it.”
You felt a little disappointed in his response.
As you were about to bring the last bit of pie to your lips, the berry filling dropped onto your white dress, briskly straining the material.
“You always this messy?” He taunted.
You cursed under your breath as you placed your fork down on the plate. You looked at the dark blue stain on your lace as a sigh left your lips
“I’m sorry, can I please use your bathroom?” You asked, getting up from your chair.
You felt a drastic shift in the air as Joel stopped chewing, his sight flickering at you as if you just asked the most shameful thing he's ever heard.
“Upstairs to the right.” He said in a sigh as he combed his fingers through his brunette and silver curls. Joel was acting like your inconvenience personally had a tremendous effect on him.
You excused yourself and found your way to the stairs. You headed up them and it didn't take you long before you realized Joel was too incomplete with his instructions because there were four differentrooms to the right.
You chose the door closest to the right but as you twisted the knob, you realized it was locked.
“Of course.” You muttered under your breath.
Stepping further down the hallway, you glanced at the remaining doors and strolled to the other one. You tried the handle and it opened in a speedy motion.
The room appeared to be a storage room but your hands stayed frozen on the knob. Your eyes caught a glimpse of dark, thick ropes hanging orderly against a wall. This provoked you to pull the door open wider to reveal more of the room.
Perplexity filled your veins as you stepped into the room, staring at the wall with the ropes on it. Beside the ropes hung a bar with four metal rings, leather cuffs connected to each of the rings.
Your hands went over your mouth in absolute astonishment as you pulled in the door behind you. Your eyes scanned the room, you’ve never seen another like this other than in your magazines.
Against another wall in the room held two large pieces of wood, crossing in a diagonal X-shape, In the center of the cross was a black padding and on each end of the wood were leather restraints, the same type that’s on the bar on the wall. You strolled further into the room, motioning towards the sand colored wooden shelf positioned by the window.
You examined his collection in wonderment, looking at the different types of toys. Joel had a collection of wand vibrators that were organized by their color. You didn't understand why he would have so much because every single one of them appeared untouched. Your eyes dropped to the other shelf which carried variations of whips.You didn't stare for too long at the shelf because your attention wished to wander at the other stuff around the room.
In the corner of the room, there was a queen sized bed with neatly fitted white sheets that appeared untouched. Across the bed stood a tall mirror,a burgundy wood framing the glass.
At the end of the bed was a dark red cushion storage bench, you decided to take a look inside of it and almost choked out at the sight of the interior. It was crowded with different variations of collars and ball gags.
Never in your life did you imagine that Joel Miller, a stern 48 year old farmer who was in church every Sunday and best friends with a preacher, would be secreting something so sinful like this.
The thought nearly made you laugh due to his hypocrisy as you proceeded with inspecting the items. Eventually, you took up one of the many ball gags and it wasn’t like the ordinary ones. This gag had a jet-black silicone bar instead of a ball. You examined it in pure appeal, gliding the material against your fingers.
Why did Joel collect these things?
Most of the things appeared unused.
You dug into the interior of the bench one last time before drawing out a leather collar. The object was heavier than necessary; it had a metal ring that attached two chains to it. At the end of the chains were two stainless steel clamps.
This was absurd.
You picked up the items and hastily motioned to examine yourself in the mirror. You desired to try on the objects before Joel detected that you'd been gone for too long. Instead of putting on the whole gag, you slightly opened your mouth to bring the silicone bar between your lips. You then used your teeth to bite down on the bar so it didn't fall out.
You were further intrigued by the collar so you chose to bring it up to your neck and loosely put it on you. The cold, weighted leather gently strained against your neck as your eyes darted to yourself in the mirror. The chains hung low on you while the clamps stopped directly at your breast.
For some reason, you looked incredibly stunning with a collar and gag on. You knew you shouldn't be in here but you were enjoying it too much.You kept the silicone bar in your mouth to get a full understanding of how it would feel to be dominated by Joel.
You finally took the bar from between your lips when saliva started to excessively pool in your mouth. You stepped away from the mirror before tossing the gag onto the bed for a second. You found your way towards the towering, intimidating wooden cross. Four bondage restraints were attached to each edge of the cross and a leather padding was in the center of it.
The tip of your fingers softly skimmed over the wood as you stared at it. You then stood against the cross causing your back to hit against the padding. In a laughable manner, you slid your hands into the restraints, the loose leather pressing against the skin of your wrists.
You faintly giggled at yourself against the cross in a spread-eagled position.
Joel wasn't who you thought he was.
Before you could react, the door swung open in a harsh gesture. Your body jolted at the sudden ache because you didn't hear Joel’s usually heavy footsteps creak up the stairs.
In a rapid attempt to step away from the cross, you yanked your wrists out of the leather. Your heart nearly forgot its rhythm when the restraints only got tighter the more you made an effort to pull your hand out of them.
Joel walked into the center of the room, watching in outrage as you struggled against the restraints. “What the hell is wrong with you woman?!?” He shouted out, Joel’s southern drawl completely on display while he brought his hands to his hips. “Ain't nobody ever told you curiosity killed the cat?”
“I couldn't find the bathroom, I didn't mean to come in here.” You blurted out in a brief exhale as embarrassment heated through your body.
“You didn't mean to come in?” He mirrored your ridiculous excuse of an answer, his fingers stressfully skimming against his greying beard. “Do you see yourself right now?”
You swallowed the lump of nervousness forming in your throat and blinked at him in humiliation.
“You are a hypocrite.” You softly remarked, fully bringing your gaze to him. “Lecturing me about my magazine when your room looks like something that should be in hell.”
Joel scoffed because he knew you were correct to an extent. He began stepping towards you, every hefty step of his creating tension in your body.
“You don't know what you are talking about.” Joel spat as he stopped in front of the cross. “There's a difference, darling.” Joel replied before poking his tongue against his cheek in irritation. “This is an art.”
“Well, I'm not seeing how it is.”
“That right?”He challenged with a raise of a brow before halting directly in front of your restrained body on the cross.
You bluntly answered with a nod, carrying your gaze to his as your chest unsteadily heaved.
“Want me to prove to you that there's a difference?” The question that rolled off Joel’s lips was unpredictable, causing you to become stunned. “Because what you look at ain't half as real as this.”
“Joel….”You choked out, not being able to question what he meant by that.
“Since, obviously you seem like a curious little thing.” Joel said as his calloused fingers found their way to your jaw. His touch sent a shock of electricity through your body as his fingers trailed up your warm delicate skin. The pad of his thumbs gently traced circles against your skin.
A soft sound fell out of your mouth as the tension in the room formed into something unusually passionate.
“You can be like the girls you look at, bunny,” He mumbled, his eyes observing every inch of your body like you were stripped. “Show you the difference.”
You caught your teeth between your bottom lip as you nodded your head in agreement.
“Use your words.”
“Yes, Joel.” You breathed out. “I want that.”
“See how easy that was, bunny?” He tauntingly asked before drawing his rough hands away from your face, the feeling of his warmth on your skin rapidly faded.
He turned away from you and directed his attention to the gag resting on the bed, the bar was still covered in your saliva. You watched as he quietly strolled to the bed before obtaining the gag in his grip.
“You like this?” He inquired, motioning back over to you and holding the gag at eye level with you.
You shook your head, nervousness buzzing through your body as you gently tugged against the restraints.
“Good girl.” He huffed out a deep praise and added, “It’s my favorite.”
Joel then loosened the gag to position it around your head. “Here's how this is going to go.” He halted his movements to look into your eyes. “I won't tell your daddy about the magazines if you don't tell him about us.”
You nodded.
“Again, use your words bunny.” The demanding tone he spoke in resulted in a fluttering sensation that spasmed in your lower stomach.
“I understand.” You said, anticipation cramming into your body as you waited for what he was going to do next.
“You are such a beautiful girl,” He praised before securely strapping the gag on you; your full lips parted for the gag to fit perfectly between them. “I know you can be a good girl sometimes.”
In astonishment, Joel stood back as he took in the sight of you. His eyes then moved down to your dress and before you could react, his strong hands were ripping the lace material of your dress. He tore it like it was a thin piece of paper.
You yelped then fussed against the gag at the fact that he destroyed your favored dress.
“I’m sorry bunny.” He sneered. “The dress was ruined already.”
Once you were entirely nude to him, the cold air hit you, letting goosebumps prickle against your skin. The clamps by your nipples swung with even the tiniest movement, provoking the frigid metal to graze your sensitive buds.
Joel let out a tiny breath as he brought his rough hands to your breast. He cupped them in awe, skimming his thumb against your hardened nipples. The pleasing sensation made you jolt and whimper in his touch . His finger trailed down to the two chains as you stared at his dark, captivating features.
You anxiously watched as he opened the clamps and placed one onto the sensitive bud. Your body rapidly jerked at the sharp stimulation while the clamp pinched severely on your nipple. Joel then brought the second clamp to your other bud as you whined the sensation of the pressure. The clamps carried a teasing discomfort that felt so enjoyable.
You carried your gaze down to your chest and at the sight of them being ruled by the clamps then up at Joel in alarm. A little smirk was threatening to grow on Joel’s lips.
Your pleading eyes stayed on his as the drool pooling in your mouth started to find its way down to your chin and chest.
“Making a mess already.” He remarked before kneeling down and hooking his fingers in the waistband of your underwear. You could feel the damp spot against the cotton before he peeled them from your hips and down to your ankles.
Once he fully took them off of you and threw them to the side, he took your ankles into the leather restraints. In a swift motion, he tightened the restraint forcing the leather to bite against your skin.
The thought of being spread out for Joel’s personal access only made a strong pulse spasm between your legs and your pussy clenched hungerly around nothing.
Joel stood up straight and strolled to his wooden shelf, whistling an old Hank Williams tune. You observed as he looked at the variety of items then hummed in thought. Joel took up something from the whip’s section of the shelf. You frantically swallowed the lump in your throat and pulled against the leathers.
In his hold, he carried a whip with an extended handle which had a shiny black triangular end. Joel stepped towards you as he toyed with the item in his large hand.
“Do you know what this is, bunny?” Joel questioned as he brought the triangular end to your drool-coated chest. He delicately trailed it between your breasts then down to your belly.
You shook your head in disagreement.
“It’s a riding crop.” Joel informed you as he continued to trace the whip against your pickled skin. “Not really my favorite but it’s really great for beginners like you.” Your hips jerked when he dragged the whip down to the inside of your thigh and tapped the skin with it. The tap was very close to your cunt.
“One thing I do like about this whip is that it doesn't take much strength to leave a nice imprint.”Joel gently slapped the whip against your sensitive clit. You moaned against the gag as the piercing pleasure drove you to squirm away and lock your spread legs to your best advantage.
Attempting to close them was a waste of energy because they didn't budge.
The more you whimpered, the more drool dripped down out of your mouth and onto the skin of your chest. The runny fluid that previously laid on your chest was now snaking down to your lower stomach.
“So reactive.” Joel kept the whip against your clit for longer than necessary before taking a step back.
“Seems like you are enjoying this too much,” He proceeded back over to the shelf to place the whip down. Without a second guess, Joel took up a wand. You instantly knew what it was because the wand was highly advertised in your magazine collection. “You truly are filthy, bunny.”
Joel came back to the cross, towering over you. Without hesitation, he switched the white and blue wand on, a low buzz reverberating in the air. He delicately placed the rounded tip against your chest, collecting the saliva to dampen the silicone tip.
Gradually, Joel slid the tip to your breast, running it against your clamped nipples. Your back responsively arched as the low vibrations of the wand buzzed. Your breath evolved into unsteady patterns the more he left the wand on your clamped nipple.
Joel was enjoying every second of your body giving in to him. His eyes never left yours as he brought the wand down to your pussy. The low buzz vibrated directly on your clit and you unleashed a strained gasp.
You never felt anything like this before, the sensation was very exotic. It sent a knot to construct in your lower stomach as Joel dragged the tip against your drenched folds. You threw your head back in euphoria and deeply dug your nails against your wrist.
“If it’s too much, just tell me and we can stop at any time.” He advised as he carried his other hand to your face, brushing your hair out the way.
He switched the wand to an elevated setting, pressing the tip back to your clit. The vibration delivered waves of pleasure as frequent moans escaped your lips. Your hips greedily twitched, wanting more of the vibrations.
“You are doing so good bunny,” Joel praised, he positioned the flexible tip exactly where you needed it the most which prompted your eyes to shut in maximum ecstasy. The intensity was so strong that you felt the familiar sensation , like when you touched yourself, building. Usually this is where you would stop because you never could figure out what was forming inside of you.
“Focus,” Joel ordered, rubbing the wet wand around the sensitive nerve. “Right here.” He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him.
Your eyes shot open as the feeling in your lower belly went on with building. Joel was pushing you to your limits and he figured it out by the way your hips unintentionally grind against the tip.
“Relax bunny, you know I got you.”
You squirmed as you looked at his charming eyes like a lost puppy, your face creased in passion as the desire in you burned like a rapid fire. Your body began to shudder while you yanked against the leather. Not being able to close your legs drove them to tense as you blurted out a cry.
“Easy,” Joel cautioned before slowly dragging the tip away from your swollen clit. Your shoulders dropped in relief, assuming he was finally giving your clit some mercy. But when he went on dragging the tip towards your pussy’s entrance, you moaned his name like a prayer against the gag.
The vibration against your hole caused more juices to produce between your thighs. The creamy fluids leaked down your inner thigh and onto the floor beneath you.
“I can tell this hole hasn't been used before,” He tauntingly remarked, keeping the vibrating wand right at your entrance. Joel softly made an effort to thrust the rounded tip into you but you were too tight. You yelped at the stinging sensation the thrust provided as you frantically shook your head.
Sweat was dripping off your body as your throbbing cunt clamped tightly from the vibrations.
You were about to release all over the wand and there was nothing you could do about it.
“Looks like we are going to have to work on that, bunny.” He commented before rubbing the tip of the wand against the entrance continually.
Your breathing returned to being uneven as the euphoria that had piled in your lower stomach finally burst. In an instant, your moans frequently escaped your lips as your body went limp, your legs jerking from the stimulation.
“You look so pretty.” Joel didn't take the wand away from you when he watched you cum. Instead, he dragged it back up to your sensitive clit. The vibrations overstimulated you as you attempted to twist your torso away from it. A guttural moan broke out of your mouth as your eyes rolled to the back of your head.
“Nu uh, you wanted to see what it's like to be a girl in the magazine, hm?” He taunted in a mocking tone while making the wand follow you wherever you twisted to. He kept the tip directly on your swollen bud, pressing it hard against the nerve. “Ain’t that so?”
The aftershocks of your previous release were coming in and you cried out as your hips wiggled away from the wand.
“It’s going to be okay my sweet girl,” Joel circled the wand around your bud a couple more times before turning it off. “You did so well.”
Your heart pounded against your chest at the immediate loss of the vibration as he took the wand away from in between your legs. Your body practically went limp against the restraints.
“You've just been so messy today.” He muttered under his breath, admiring the wand coated in your juices. You observed as he brought his tongue up to the tip and took a long lick like it was an ice cream cone. The sight of him tasting your juices made you whine.
“I love the way you taste.” Joel hummed in satisfaction like you was the best thing he's ever tasted. He then brought his attention back to you and unhurriedly took your ankles and wrist out of the leather restraints.
Before you could stand on your own, you were raised over his shoulders like you weighed nothing more than a bag of ice. “We got a lot more to do bunny.”
He moved over to the bed and threw you onto it, your back immediately hitting the soft, unused white sheets. Joel rested the damp wand onto the bed before assisting you with taking off the ruins of your dress and tossed it over to where your underwear laid.
After that, he carefully took off the saliva-coated gag from around your mouth and placed it neatly beside the vibrator. Your jaw thanked him when he softly massaged it with the pads of his thumb.
He then dragged his attention to the ropes hooked on the wall as you laid on the mattress, recovering from your first-ever orgasm.
Joel took up the black bar from off its hook then turned to you with a light grin on the corner of his lips. The bar had four leather attachments, a pair of restraints on the edges and another two in the center.
In swift motion, he held your ankles in his rough grip and hauled you to the edge of the bed. As he got between your legs, he carefully took the clamps off your sensitive nipple. Your shoulders lowered in ease at the dull pressure coming off of them.
Your pussy is so pretty, bunny.” He commented while lifting your legs up and bringing your ankles into the leather cuffs at the ending of each side.The restraints of the bar were way worse than the ones on the X-cross, these held your legs further apart.
“I want you to touch yourself.” Your dripping cunt was on display in the stretched-out missionary position. Joel’s eyes scanned between your legs. You froze at his request and he immediately noticed while securing the leather. You wiggled under his burning gaze.
“Come on, play with yourself.” He repeated his order in a sterner manner as he held onto the bar, pushing your legs wider. “The same you do when you look at those sinful magazines.”
“Joel…” You timidly whined, in surprise at what he was asking for.
“Show me.”
You snaked your freed hands down to the mess between your legs as you looked up at him in acceptance. He watched over you like touching yourself was the ultimate test. Your delicate fingers grazed against your dripping lips, a small noise exiting your lips. You dragged your fingers to your pulsing clit and circle it, the sound of your wetness loading into the air.
“That’s it,” He mumbled in approval, his deep southern drawl coming out as he looked down at your hand rubbing against your cunt. “You’re doing so great.”
You couldn't believe Joel Miller was watching you touch yourself.
You moaned as you continued to rub the swollen bud, your hips greedily twitching against your palm. The pleasure you were delivering to yourself was slow and light, nothing as good as what Joel did.
You watched as Joel took his other hands and unbuckled his brown worn-out belt in a brisk gesture. He yanked the belt out of the belt loop of his jeans then unbuttoned them. You never took your eyes off of him and fastened the pace of your hand on your clit. The way he looked frustrated while undoing his jeans only made your cunt’s walls frequently clench and pulse.
When he slid out of his jeans, you nearly froze at the sight of his boxers because his print was completely on display. His cock stiffly pressed against the dark grey cotton.
Eventually, he slid off his boxers and his cock sprang out.
You wanted to close your legs from the sight of it alone. His shaft was very lengthy with a dark pink mushroom tip that glistened with pre-cum. Joel’s girth was very thick with green veins running alongside the skin and his balls were peppered in silver hairs. His cock was incredibly greater than the ones you looked at on paper. Everything about him was so big.
There was no way his cock was going to fit in you, you couldn't even fit two of your fingers in your cunt.
Your mouth watered at his cock as you ran your fingers down your velvety folds.
Joel wrapped his wrist around the long length of his shaft and pumped himself a few times with a deep groan, his thumb brushing underneath his tip. His pace followed yours before he moved your hands away from your pussy and replaced them with his warm tip.
In a careful fashion, he glided the tip against your puffy folds. He then brushed it against your clit , sending a wave of ecstasy to dance down your spine.
As he stroked his cock against your heat, he took the time to place your wrists into the center restraints of the bar. The position allowed him to fully have access to you. “It’s going to be fine, bunny.”
“Please, Joel.”You pleaded at his slow actions and pulled against the bar which only resulted in you spreading wider. “I need you.”
“You are my good slut, aren't you?” He asked before bringing his mushroom top towards your entrance. You hissed while shaking your head in agreement, the stinging feeling against your cunt was overpowering.
“I know baby, I know.” Joel slowly pushed into your pussy, inch by inch while softly bringing his thumb to massage your over-stimulated bud. “I am going to go little deeper, just breathe.”
You relaxed yourself as your lips parted at the exotic sensation of being filled and stretched out at the same time. When he finally bottomed out in you, you felt a dull pain in your lower stomach. He took his hands away from your clit and pressed it against your lower stomach, the urge to pee rapidly came to you.
“Too big.” You strained out as you tugged against the leather, overlooking that struggling only made your legs scatter wider.
“It’s okay bunny.” Joel mumbled as he began pulling out of you until only the tip was in your pussy. “That’s it.” He groaned and thrusted back into you. The stinging discomfort was pivoting into something you've never experienced before.
He looked down to where you two connected, keeping an eye on your tight cunt swallowing his cock entirely. You wailed out in maximum passion as he delicately picked up the pace.
“Atta girl, you are taking me so well.”
“Don’t stop, Joel.” You begged as your chest heaved. “You feel so good.” The back of your head lowered against the cushion of the mattress, your tight, unused walls clamped against his devastating girth.
Joel continued to hold onto the bar as he sped up his thrusts, the skin of his hips slapping against yours. “You are milking me dry, bunny.” He said between grunts as he closed his eyes in full bliss for a split second.
A knot was developing into your lower stomach as your legs tensed. A piercing moan left your mouth while your walls continued to squeeze against Joel's cock.
“I love the way you sound, bunny.”
He deeply pounded into you before extending to his side and picking up the wand. When he switched it on then placed it against your inner thigh, you nearly squirmed away. The vibration buzzed through your body at a medium setting.
“You promise not to look at that filth anymore?” Joel asked before bringing the rounded tip directly to your clit. Whimpers repeatedly fled from your lips at the vibration against your sensitive nerve.
You nodded before squeezing your eyes shut, not being able to close your legs at the intense vibrations only pushed your closer to your release.
“What did I tell you about using your words?” Joel circled the wand around your bud.
“Yes, Joel.” You choked out as your nails dug into your wrist.
“And you understand why it's not good for you?”
“Yes!” You moaned out as Joel’s large cock spasmed against your walls.
“Good girl.” Joel replied before halting inside of you to grab a pillow. He lifted your hips up with his free hand and placed it under your hips. The angle prompted his cock to slide deeper into you, causing your eyes to roll back as you became a moaning mess.
“Give it to me Joel.” You pathetically begged as another orgasm threatened to wash over you. “I’m all yours.”
“I will forever own this little pussy.” He grunted before pressing the wand harder against your clit. He carried his ragged hands up to your chest then gripped on the chain connected to your weighted collar.
You were so close to cumming that your walls began to spasm against his cock. Joel knew it and took that as an opportunity to pull against your collar, using it as a leash to drill into you speedily and deeper.
“You are nothing but my greedy fuck doll, bunny.” Joel grunted as his thrusts grew sloppy. “Your pussy enjoys me fucking her.”
His cock glistened in your arousal as your body locked. Joel noticed how your moans became more frequent and added, “Cum for me sweetheart, that’s it.”
The created pleasure ultimately erupted at Joel’s command and your stretched legs quivered as a result of the orgasm. Your lips stayed parted as your spasming walls massaged Joel’s cock in wave-like motions.
“I’m your whore.” You strained out as he fucked you through it. Joel dropped his hands from the chain and gripped the fat of your hips.
“That right, bunny?” He grunted, sweat dripping off his forehead as his cock twitched deep inside of you.
“Yes.” You moaned. Joel carelessly threw the wand beside you on the mattress, chasing his own high. “I want you to cum in me.”
You two held eye contact as his deep groans started to turn into desirable whimpers. “I’m going to ruin you.” He moaned while his hips shuddered and the hold on your hips became tenser.
He pumped into you a few more times before you felt warm, thick liquids filling your tight cunt up. Your eyes widened as you both moaned at the same time, catching your breath. Joel didn't stop fucking you but his pace did slowed down to make sure every last drop of his cum went into you.
When he finally pulled out of you, you whined because the loss of his girth made you feel so empty. His cum didn't stay too long in you before it started to pool out of you and onto the sheets.
“You did so well bunny.” Joel remarked, staring down at you laboriously drawing a few breaths. “I think I could show you a few more things.”
a brief moment of dubious consent due to..., accidental creampie, bareback sex, p in v, somewhat subby!joel, size kink, breeding kink, humiliation kink, edging/ruined orgasm
a/n: i wrote this with the intention of posting it on my birthday last week, but life sucks sometimes. anyways, there needs to be more sub!p men fic. am i right, @time-for-my-weekly-spanking? not beta read, so don't yell at me.
The way Joel fucks you can never be labeled as anything other than exquisite. His breath is hot against the sensitive skin of your neck, his mouth closing over the pulse point just below your ear so as to taste the salt of your sweat. The coarse scratch of his chest hair drags across your breasts as he leans in close, the low rumble of his groan vibrating through your ribcage. The muscles in his back shift and flex under the featherlight touch of your fingertips. A large hand pins your wrist above your head, the other gripping your hip hard enough to bruise, his thick fingers digging into the soft flesh in a way that makes your stomach flutter.
Despite being lost in the throes of pleasure, you can tell how dangerously close Joel is to coming. His thrusts are no longer the steady, rolling grind that he started with, but desperate and choppy. The thick head of his cock grazes against your cervix with every sloppy snap of his hips. The veins along his shaft throb against your stretched rim, his balls slapping against your ass with each stuttered movement. “Joel…” you warn.
He shakes his head fast, jaw tight and teeth clenched as he fights his impending orgasm. “I know, baby. I know. M’pullin’ out, I promise.”
That had always been the deal between the two of you – he could fuck you bare like he wanted, but he had to pull out – and until tonight, Joel had always been overly cautious. He’d pull out earlier than he needed to, stroking himself those last few seconds before spilling across the backs of your thighs.
Tonight though, Joel seemed to be struggling to hold up his end of the bargain. He rises onto his knees and hooks one of your legs over his broad shoulders. The new angle lets him sink into you further, grinding against that spongy spot inside you with merciless precision. Your body clenches around him, squeezing his cock in a way that makes him break with a choked sound. “Fuck, baby. M’gonna come–”
He rips out of you at the very last second, cock throbbing in the cool summer air. His hand wraps around the thick, slick shaft as he jerks himself with fast, desperate strokes. With an exasperated groan, the first hot rope of come shoots out of him, landing exactly where he wants it - splattered perfectly over your swollen clit. Before you can even react, a second spurt follows dripping down your folds in a sticky, pearly streak.
The sight of his release painting your pussy flips a switch in him instantly. That primal urge in him that is usually kept locked down roars to the surface. Joel’s chest heaves, his entire body going rigid as every civilized thought gets wiped clean and is replaced with the need to be inside you. “Fuck. Fuck, baby–” He drives into you in one brutal, instinctive thrust, thrusting every thick inch of his cock back into the heat of your cunt. The stretch is sudden and overwhelming despite him pulling out only moments earlier.
“Joel–” you manage to breathlessly exclaim as he turns his head and groans against your ankle. His orgasm hits him harder now that he’s buried where he knows he shouldn’t be, the guilt and wrongness only seeming to intensify everything as he continues to spill inside you.
His whole body shakes with the force of it, completely lost in the rush of filling you when he promised he wouldn’t. “Oh fuck–” he chokes out, gasping and moaning as he grinds himself impossibly deeper, pushing his spend as far inside you as he can.
Your leg slips from his shoulder and Joel’s body collapses forward with a groan, his weight pressing you into the mattress. He trembles above you, arms braced on either side of your head, too weak to hold himself up fully as he attempts to catch his breath. Even after the last powerful aftershocks ripple through him, Joel stays buried to the hilt, his hips giving a tiny, involuntary roll, unable to stop chasing the euphoric feeling. His cock twitches inside your come-filled pussy, his body refusing to accept that it’s over.
The room falls silent, the gravity of what just happened settling over you until it’s almost suffocating. Joel finally slumps over you, his forehead nudging into your shoulder, arms wrapped tight around your middle like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go. His breath is shaky as he burrows his face into your neck and you sense the tension and unease radiating off of him. “...baby. I–I fucked up,” he admits, voice wrecked from both exhaustion and nerves.
You can feel the warmth of his release slowly leaking out around his softening cock and you try to lift your head to see, but Joel is heavy over top of you. You tap the side of his ass, urging him to get up and thankfully he understands the gesture. He eases himself out of you, his cock slipping out of you with a wet noise, and falls back onto the mattress, covering his face with his forearm. “Jesus…” you breathe, having propped yourself up on your elbows to look down at the mess he made. The sheen of your slick is smeared glossy across your inner thighs. Joel’s come is everywhere – seeping out of your hole in thick, pearly white streaks and dripping onto the bedsheets beneath you.
Joel sits up, leaning back on one hand as he takes in the sight of your spread thighs, watching as his come slowly trickles from your entrance. The guilt of breaking his promise to you starts to eat at him; but, alongside the shame is a dark, hungry satisfaction that he can’t push away. The conflicting feelings weave together into some fucked up shame spiral and he lets out a heavy sigh, flopping back onto the mattress.
He hears you say his name, but the sound barely registers. He’s too lost in his own head, trapped somewhere between regret and disgust. You call out again, this time a little louder, and he rolls onto his side to face you. Without a word, he leans in, one hand cradling your cheek as he kisses you. It’s not rushed or desperate, but rather sweet, as if his lips were trying to say everything he was having difficulty putting into words. There’s an apology in the way that his thumb gently strokes the side of your face. There’s hunger in the way his tongue slides against yours. And, there’s relief in the quiet sigh he breathes into the kiss, like touching you is the only thing keeping him grounded. “M’sorry, baby…” he murmurs against your lips.
His eyes flick back down to the mess between your thighs, brows furrowing together. “Fuck…look at what I did to you,” he whispers. “As soon as I can feel my damn legs, “we’re gonna get in the car, okay? I’ll drive you to the pharmacy and we’ll see about gettin’ you the mornin’ after pill.” Joel shakes his head, disappointed in himself, but even more so at his cock which twitches with interest. “I promised. I fuckin’ promised and I just…” his voice cracks, “the second I came, I lost it. Buried myself right back in like some goddamn animal.” There’s a short pause, Joel swallowing down a dangerous thought, “Jesus Christ, baby…what the hell did I do?”
You grab Joel’s face with both hands before he can spiral any further, pulling him into a kiss that shuts him up and steals whatever apology was about to tumble out. His lips quiver against yours, unsure if he should even be allowed this kind of forgiveness. It isn’t until the tip of your tongue slides slowly over the seam of his lips that he melts. He lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding and the tension in his jaw finally eases. His hand comes to rest on your waist and he kisses you back, trying to convey his gratitude for not pushing him away.
When you break apart, you rest your forehead against him and brush your thumbs over his stubbled cheekbones. “Should make you go by yourself,” you mumble against his lips, no malice in your voice. “Explain to the pharmacist what you did.”
Joel looks at you with wide, pleading eyes, knowing he deserves every bit of shame and reproach that would come from confessing it aloud. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, his face starting to heat up. “Baby…” he breathes out, voice barely above a whisper.
You smile softly, eyes locked on his, “She’s going to take one look at this guilty face and just know that you couldn’t keep your cock where it belonged.” Joel makes a ragged sound, somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “She’ll make you say it too,” you add, dragging your thumb over his bottom lip. “What you did. Out loud.”
Joel’s eyes flutter shut, cheeks burning hotter under your gaze, his forehead dropping to your shoulder in an attempt to hide his embarrassment. You’re not exactly sure what prompts you, but you find yourself sliding your fingers into Joel’s hair, gently tugging his head back up so you can see his face. “Tell me what you’d say to her,” you whisper. “Tell me like you’re standing at the counter.”
Joel shakes his head weakly, attempting to resist your request, but his pupils are blown wide, lust swallowing his irises. His cock twitches with interest, blood rushing to where he’s already growing half-hard between his thighs.
You let your gaze drop, catching the sudden movement in your peripheral vision. Joel lets out a small, miserable whine and tries to bury his face in your neck again, but you keep your grip firm in his hair. “Joel,” you say, slightly amused but with a strangely cruel undertone to it. “Are you getting hard while apologizing?”
Your question lingers in the air, and the real shock of it hits you, because Joel is not the type to be brought down to his metaphorical knees. He is always the one in control – bigger, stronger, unmistakably male – and seeing him like this almost feels surreal. You can’t help but think that it looks good on him for a change.
Joel’s breath stutters, his cock betraying him as it twitches under your gaze. His blush deepens until he’s red all the way up to the tips of his ears. He feels exposed, ridiculous and so fucking turned on that it’s making his head spin. “Baby, I–I’m trying not to.”
You tilt your head and let out a disbelieving laugh, glancing down at his cock steadily thickening between you. “Doesn’t look like it. Looks like you’re getting big and hard just from thinking about having to talk to the pharmacist later.”
A shiver zips up Joel’s spine and he barely restrains the groan that wants to escape. He fucking loves it when you call him big. Not just because of the way it strokes his ego – though he loves when you admire his dick – but because the way you say it makes him feel powerful. Hearing you use that word against him, teasing him while he’s exposed like this, makes his stomach tighten. The contradiction of being called ‘big’ while feeling so small and humiliated fucks with his head in the best way. Because no matter how big he is – how easily he could pin you down and take control – here he is, rock hard and almost submissive for you. His cock throbs, heavy and flushed dark, curving up towards his stomach as the tip glistens with a fresh bead of precome.
“Answer me,” you say, voice low and commanding as you give his hair another firm tug until his eyes are trained on you.
“...fuck,” he mumbles under his breath, unable to keep himself in check as you stare down at him. “Yes…okay? Yes, I’m gettin’ hard. I hate it and I can’t fuckin’ help it.”
Joel looks completely mortified, but his hips twitch upward anyway, like his body is begging for attention. His big, guilty brown eyes stay locked on yours, glassy and desperate. A long moment stretches between you while you watch him squirm, shame and arousal practically eating him alive. You lean in closer, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “That’s because you liked it,” you whisper. “You liked filling me up when you weren’t supposed to. You liked fucking up.”
His whole body tenses, his cock jerking with another helpless twitch. “Fuck…baby,” he whispers. “So fucking much.”
You let the silence sit for another beat, just to watch him sit with his admission. His hand flexes at his side like he’s dying to reach out and touch you – to grab your hips, pull you closer, bury his face between your thighs, and eat you out until you’re shaking and pushing him away. Anything to distract from the embarrassment of telling someone else how much he enjoyed coming inside you.
When you’re satisfied that you had made him wait long enough, you loosen your grip on his hair and slide your hand down to cup his jaw. “Joel,” you say softly. He responds with a hum, leaning into your touch. “Say it.”
Joel blinks, his breath shallow. “Say what?”
You lean in until your lips are barely an inch from his, “What you’re going to tell the pharmacist.”
Joel’s eyes flutter shut for a second, his lips parting slightly as he half-expects you to lean in and kiss him. When you don’t, he lets out a huff. After a moment, he relents, “Sorry ma’am,” he says, barely above a whisper. “Can I bother you for Plan B? I…I accidentally…” His sentence tapers off, embarrassment and arousal tying his tongue while you look at him expectantly. “She–she told me to pull out, but I couldn’t help myself.”
You tsk at him, a low, disappointed sound that makes his shoulder tense. You trail your fingers from where it cups his cheek, down the side of his neck, over the rapid thud of his heartbeat in his chest, until you reach his navel. You trace his happy trail with the pad of your pointer finger, purposefully keeping away from his more than interested cock. “Keep going,” you state, more demand than request. “You weren’t finished."
Joel looks at you wrecked, completely at your mercy as you continue teasing him with featherlight touches. “Baby…I–”
You cut him off mid-sentence, wrapping your fingers firmly around the thick base of his cock. He goes stock still, his eyes flying wide open as he lets out a sharp gasp, “Fuck–”. You hold him there, tight and possessive, feeling his cock throb hot and heavy in your palm, but refusing to stroke him.
“Keep going,” you say calmly, your thumb brushing lightly over the prominent vein on the underside of his shaft. “Don’t stop just because I have your cock in my hand.”
Joel licks his lips, eyes glued to yours, his thighs trembling as he fights the overwhelming urge to thrust up into your fist. “She told me to pull out,” he starts, your grip tightening. “…but I saw how pretty she looked on my cock and I–” He groans softly, enraptured by the way you’re looking at him. “I couldn’t help myself, baby. I–I just needed to feel you feel you full of me.”
You lean in close, nose brushing against the shell of his ear, and whisper, “Pathetic.”
A broken groan tears out of Joel’s chest, shame flooding his face. He jerks his hips involuntarily, eagerly chasing the heat of your palm. His body shakes – the big, strong man who’s always in control, trembling from a single whispered insult.
“Go on,” you purr in his ear. “Repeat what you’d say to the pharmacist. Word for word.”
Joel’s eyes squeeze shut, his voice is wrecked, cracking with every humiliating word. “...Sorry, ma’am. Can I get a Plan B? I accidentally came inside my girl. She told me to pull out but I…I couldn’t help but fill her up anyway.” His hips twitch helplessly, precome drooling from the tip and leaking over your fist.
“And why not,” you ask softly, adjusting your grip, your thumb swiping over the flushed, sensitive head.
Joel keens, his back arching off the bed. “Because–” he starts, swallowing down a shaky breath, “because she was squeezin’ me so good that I lost control.”
“I told you to pull out,” you remind him, thumb continuing to move.
He nods quickly, shame tightening in his throat. “I know, baby. I know. I did at first but…” Joel lets out a strangled whine, only furthering his embarrassment, “...fuck.”
“But what, Joel?” you ask, lips still brushing his ear in a tease. “Finish your sentence.” Your hand slides up his length in one smooth stroke, then back down to the base. He’s so fucking big in your grip, your fingers barely meeting around his shaft due to the sheer size of him. His cock is a complete mess, glistening and still slick with his earlier load.
Joel’s hands fist the sheets, needing to hold onto something, the fabric pulling away from the edge of the mattress as he fights for control. “I didn’t listen,” he grits out through clenched teeth. “Stuffed myself right back inside.”
You pull back just enough to see his face, his pupils blown with lust, his lips parted as he pants, desperate for more – desperate for something. “Good boy,” you praise. Joel’s entire body seizes up, his cock surging with want, as he attempts to push himself deeper into your grasp. You keep stroking him, the pace excruciating, letting your thumb swirl over the messy come-slick head on every upstroke. “Now tell her why you’re there,” you murmur.
Joel lets out a broken whine, hips jerking helplessly. His voice cracks as he forces the words out, shame and arousal twisting together so tightly he can barely speak. “ ‘Cause she needs the morning after pill,” he breathes out. “And it’s all my fault.” Joel shoves his hips up, spearing his cock into your grip as he starts fucking your fist in short, needy strokes. “All my fucking fault.”
The big, dominant Joel Miller is officially gone. In place is this desperate, leaking, shame-drenched version of him who can’t stop confessing how badly he fucked up – how badly he needed to come inside you – and how much he loved it.
“Greedy boy. You just can’t help yourself, can you?”
He doesn’t answer you. You let him use your hand to get off, watching his face go slack with pleasure before urging his hips down and slowing your hand. Your fingers tighten around him, just enough to control the pace, forcing his thrusts to become shallow and frustratingly restricted. Every time he tries to move, you ease off, keeping him right on the agonizing edge without letting him tip over.
“That’s it,” you croon softly, “Tell her exactly why you need it.”
Joel’s hands fist the sheets tighter, knuckles white as he bunches the fabric at his sides. “‘Cause–fuck…’cause I came inside you, baby,” he groans. “Pussy looked so good covered in my come that I just had to get back inside.”
You feel him swell impossibly bigger in your hand, the thick shaft pulsing in time with his heartbeat, as he teeters dangerously close to the edge. His balls draw up tight, the first warning of his impending orgasm.
Joel’s breath catches, his eyes starting to roll back, inches away from satisfaction. You let go, your hand pulling away completely, leaving his cock twitching and bobbing angrily in the air. He lets out a broken sound as his orgasm crests and then crashes without release. His cock kicks hard, pulsing uselessly, a thick bead of precome dribbling pathetically from the tip and sliding down his shaft. His hips buck in the air, every muscle straining as everything fades into a cruel, aching denial. He collapses towards you, his body practically shaking as he presses his forehead to your shoulder. “Fuck…baby…please…” he begs.
You let him ache, his chest heaving with quick, uneven breaths, his denied cock twitching and leaking against his stomach. Every heavy throb is visible as he attempts to gather himself. He tries to tamp down his arousal, but underneath is something deeper – raw, aching need.
You press a hand gently to his chest, urging him to lie flat and Joel obeys instantly, falling back onto the mattress fully and without protest. You swing a leg over him, straddling his hips, your slick folds parting around him. His head falls back with a guttural groan as you start to rock against him, the fat head of his cock dragging hot and slippery over your swollen clit making you both moan. You feel him shudder underneath you, a low groan vibrating through his chest as he curses silently, “...fuck, baby. Just like that.”
Joel’s hands fly to your thighs, fingers digging into your flesh like he’s barely holding himself together. His breathing is ragged, eyes half-lidded and desperate as he watches you use him. You tease him like that for a few more torturous seconds without giving him what he really needs, a needy whine slipping out before he can stop it.
Without hesitation, you take his cock in hand, lining him up with your entrance and sinking down all the way to the hilt. The stretch is perfect, your walls squeezing tight around him, greedy for more. A broken moan escapes both of you at the same time as Joel springs up, sitting up beneath you in a rush, one arm wrapping around your back as he pulls you into a messy, desperate kiss. Joel licks into your mouth like he’s starving for you. One hand slides up your back, while the other stays wrapped around your middle as he guides you harder onto his cock.
“Fuck, baby…” he pants between kisses, “you feel so goddamn good.” Joel’s forehead drops to your shoulder, breath hot against your skin as he lets you take complete control, utterly lost in the feeling of being buried inside you again.
“Keep going,” you say, pulling off of him until only the tip of him remains inside you, then slamming back down until he’s fully sheathed again. “Tell the pharmacist what you did.”
Joel’s brain is barely coherent. “Fuck–I–” His hands dig into your skin, almost like he’s afraid you’ll leave him ruined and desperate again. “M’sorry, ma’am,” he begins, his words somewhat slurred as you continue to mercilessly ride him, the wet heat of your cunt enveloping him over and over again. “Need a plan B for my–fuck– girl.” His voice cracks as you grind your clit against his pelvis, the coarse hair on his groin prickling into your skin. “I’m sorry,” he groans, starting to babble, the confession spilling out in desperate, shattered pieces. “So fucking sorry. Felt so good. Fuck, baby…you feel so good. Needed to fill you up.”
Joel is embarrassingly close already, his hips stuttering up to meet your rhythm. “Fuck, baby. Hop off–fuck, I’m gonna–” he gasps, starting to panic. His hands scramble frantically at your hips, trying to lift you off him to avoid further incident.
But you don’t let him. You slam down onto him one last time, taking him as deep as you can, rolling your hips in tight circles that eke him closer to the finish line. Your walls clench around him like a vice and Joel’s eyes widen in shock. “No–baby, wait–I can’t–fuck!”
His panicked warning dissolves into a guttural groan as his cock pulses violently inside you, his eyes rolling back into his head, vision going white, as thick, hot ropes of come flood you for the second time that afternoon. His entire body trembles beneath you, his fingers bruising your skin where he grips you as if you’re the only thing anchoring him to Earth.
The wet warmth of his spend spills from your cunt and drips down his shaft, coating him in his own mess. Joel’s face is slack, experiencing what one can only assume to be pure bliss – like nothing in the world exists except the tight, slick heat of your cunt milking him dry.
You ride the high right alongside him, your bodies in a perfect, filthy sync until your own orgasm crashes into you without warning. Your thighs lock tight around his hips as white-hot pleasure rips up your spine. You cry out, your head lolling back, his name slipping from your lips as every muscle shakes with wave after wave of mind-numbing pleasure.
Joel starts to slowly soften inside of you but doesn’t dare look down at the mess. “Still gotta go to the pharmacy, baby.”
The fluorescent lights of the pharmacy feel way too bright as Joel stands at the counter, posture rigid like he’s waiting on his own execution. The pharmacist, a no-nonsense type of woman in her fifties, offers him a polite smile. “How can I help you today?”
Joel’s face immediately burns red, his blush crawling all the way up to his ears. He rubs the back of his neck, glancing over at you like maybe you’ll save him from utter embarrassment, but you don’t. He clears his throat, an attempt at keeping himself from stuttering which immediately backfires as soon as he opens his mouth to speak. “Uh–I–I–uh…I need the, uh…the Plan B pill.”
The pharmacist doesn’t even blink, she just nods calmly and types something into the computer, “One moment, sir. I’ll grab that for you.”
Joel lets out an apprehensive breath, muttering under his breath while his fingers tap nervously on the counter. He prays the ground will just swallow him whole. “Jesus Christ,” he mumbles to himself.
The pharmacist returns with the small blue box and sets it on the counter, scanning the barcode. “Alright, if that’s it for today, that’ll be–”
“It’s my fault,” Joel blurts out, far too loud, before realizing his blunder. “I–I messed up.”
You watch the pharmacist’s eyebrows slowly lift. In truth, your hand reaches for him like you’re going to stop him, but the words tumble out of him quicker than expected. “She told me to pull out but I just lost my head.”
You bite down hard on your lip to keep from laughing, your face heating with a mix of second-hand embarrassment and delight. The pharmacist blinks, completely unfazed. “Oh. Well…it happens. That’ll be $54.11.”
Joel looks like he’s two seconds away from melting into the floor. His neck and ears are bright red, jaw clenched so tight you’re afraid he’s going to pop a vein in his forehead. He fumbles for his wallet, dropping his debit card with a loud clatter, cursing quietly under his breath. You place a steady hand on his bicep and he manages to swipe the card with shaking fingers, refusing to look at you.
When the transaction is complete, the pharmacist hands him the bag, telling him she hopes he has a good day. He can’t even respond with words. He raises his hand, nodding his head and gently takes you by the arm, leading you out of the pharmacy as quickly as he can. When he reaches the sidewalk, he turns towards you, the bulge evident in his jeans, his voice dropping into a hushed whisper only you can hear. “Baby…I swear I ain’t ever been that embarrassed in all my life.”
The minute the front door clicks shut behind you, Joel lets out a heavy exhale, dropping the keys to his truck on the entryway table. You barely make it two steps before he reaches for you, grabbing your hand and pulling you into him, your back flush against his broad chest. His face drops into the crook of your neck, lips brushing your skin like he needs the contact to steady himself.
He turns you to face him and his eyes are soft, filled with adoration and love. The flush of humiliation hasn’t fully faded, his ears tinted pink as he cocks his head to the side and then leans in to kiss you. The kiss starts slow, as if he’s asking for permission, but the moment you kiss him back, it deepens – slow and hungry in the softest way. His hands slide down your back, palms warm and steady, pressing you closer until there’s no space left between your bodies. “Baby…”, he whispers, his lips not leaving yours. “...you were real mean to me.”
You smile, humming in agreement, “Yeah, you gonna let me do it again?”
Joel swallows, eyes dropping to your mouth, his response somewhat shy, “Jesus…I–yeah,we’ll talk about it.”
His forehead rests against yours and he breathes you in for a long moment, then kisses you again. His arms tighten around you as the tension starts to bleed out of his shoulders. “Thank you,” he murmurs, the words barely more than a breath. “For helpin’ me take care of it. For not bein’ mad. For…hell, for everything.”
You feel his body relax fully into yours like he’s finally letting the weight of the day settle. His thumb keeps stroking your cheek in slow, gentle circles as he holds you close, safe in the quiet of your apartment. “Maybe it’s time we start trying,” you suggest. His head whips towards you, eyes wide and curious, trying to gauge if you actually mean it. You nod as if answering his silent question and you swear you’ve never seen him happier.
Summary: It’s one of those many times when trying to keep your secret relationship alive, you meet with Joel in a hotel room.
Rating: 18+ MDNI
Warnings: EXPLICIT CONTENT 18+, smut with some plot, unprotected piv, reader is on a pill, multiple orgasms, soft dom Joel, fingering, pussy eating, established relationship (kinda), secret relationship, some angst (because I wouldn’t be myself), age gap (Joel in his 40s and reader is in collage), no outbreak (also no Sarah)
Words: 6009
Notes: This fic was written fully for fun. Just think about Joel Miller giving you multiple orgasms. I apologize for any mistakes, English is not my first language. Please, do not copy my work. Thanks!
Dividers by: @chateaubarnes thank you!
| my masterlist |
Joel Miller is a busy man.
With his brother he went from small construction firm to a millions-worth constructing business in less than three years. He knew how to achieve what he wanted. Long hours, sleepless nights, basically no private life.
He always told himself he’s gonna success and he did.
Despite his father’s cruel words, despite everyone saying he won’t achieve anything without school.
And look at him now. Years later.
Sharp suits. Even sharper jawline. The kind of stoicism that keeps people on edge. He’s not unkind. Never. But he is sure of what he wants. His employees listen dutifully in the boardrooms, eating from his hand. He basically built the whole Austin at this point. And constantly gains more clients and deals. The company is growing.
This man has everything under control. Perfectly-structured life and business.
And yet…
He does have one weakness.
The weakness that makes him do stupid things. That draws his attention from the important stuff. This weakness keeps swirling in his mind and has made itself at home there.
This weakness… is you.
And that’s why he flew over three hours to San Francisco — a day before an actual business meeting here — just so he could spend more time with you. That’s exactly why he sits in a luxurious hotel room now, waiting for you to appear.
He’s not sure how this started. It just did. He does business with your mother. She’s a big fish in California’s construction circles. You met in her office. Then again at some gala.
You ended up in bed.
Deals with your mother kept him in San Francisco often, but in fact… it was you. The need to see you.
Just like now.
He waited weeks to see you.
Weeks for a one night stolen from his busy life.
He loosens his tie, anticipation flowing in his veins. He stands up to pour himself some whiskey into the glass. He drinks it in one gulp.
And that’s when he hears it. Knock. Knock.
He stills with the glass mid-air. He sets it on the table and makes his way to the door, way faster than he wishes to admit. With a final inhale, he pulls it open.
„Did you order room service?” You stand there, grinning flirtatiously.
Jesus, you’re breathtaking. He guesses you came here straight from your studying session in the library. Your favorite sweater on you and those tight, sexy jeans… Fuck.
„Hell yeah.” He breathes and tugs you inside, shutting the door closed. You giggle when he wraps both his arms around you, like he couldn’t spend another second without your touch. His lips are on yours now, pouring all the longing and desire into the heated kiss. You don’t even have time to respond properly, before he pushes you onto the nearest wall. A gasp leaves your mouth and only then he leans back, just to get lost in your beautiful eyes.
„Hi, baby.” He rasps, proud when he notices your cheeks are already rosy.
„Hi, handsome. That was quite a welcome.”
„Sorry, just… missed you so much.” His lips find your jaw now, nipping softly at the skin. You smile to yourself, feeling the nice warmth settle in your body. He missed you.
„I missed you, too.”
He pulls away, just to cup your cheek with his large hand. You relish in the feeling of his touch. How someone so gruff and stern can be so gentle behind the closed door?
Joel is like that just for you. He’s sure no one ever saw this side of him, not really. You awoke this protector side of him. This loving part of him. And he starts liking it more and more with every day.
„I’m sorry, I didn’t wear anything more… sexier. I was studying and-”
He cuts you off with a kiss. You feel him smirking against your lips, which makes you confused.
„I figured you’d be studying. And don’t you dare apologizing…” he trails off just to look you up and down. „Those jeans are sexy as hell, baby.”
It’s the way he looks at you… The way his eyes darken. They always do when he sees you after so long. You never felt like this with any man. Joel worships you. Worships the land you step on. When he watches you like that… you’re sure you could wear a potato sack and he’d still get hard at the view.
„But I would much rather have them off.” He whispers and leans in just to inhale your sweet scent. You balance yourself, resting your hands on his broad shoulders. God, it’s been so long. Every time you say goodbye it feels like his heart gets another painful jab. He hates this.
So he always tries to make your meetups unforgettable. He wants to give you something to remember for those weeks you spend apart. No matter if it’s the way he fucks you, or some gift.
Joel’s hand travels downwards your body. For a moment stops in the dip of your waist, squeezing there. But his goal? The zipper of your jeans. Your breathing is already uneven, anticipating what he’ll do to you tonight. With Joel it’s always a surprise. It’s thrilling in a way you never experienced before.
„Hurry.” You whisper and he chuckles.
„Missed me this much? Good.”
His lips find your neck. The kisses he lays on your heated skin remind you of a feast. Joel is having a feast and you are the main fucking dish. It’s like he can’t get enough and you love it. You love the passion he bestows upon you.
He runs his tongue from your shoulder to your jaw, leaving a wet path that makes you shiver. All this while his hand works the button of your jeans. You arch beneath him, the hard wall against your back makes it impossible to seek your desired friction. An uncontrollable, desperate sound leaves your mouth.
„Shh, baby. I got you. I know she missed me, too.” He rasps, slipping his hand beneath the fabric of your jeans in search for your needy pussy. You whimper, so he kisses you again.
Joel can’t wait much more, desperate to hear your sweet moans. His hand barely fits in those tight jeans of yours, tempting him to rip them. But he manages to slip his fingers under the hem of your lingerie. He believes he noticed a glimpse of his favourite black set. You wore it especially for him.
At this point he’s painfully hard, but nothing is more important to him than your pleasure.
„Joel.” You groan when his fingers brush through your slick folds for the first time. You feel so hot already, sweating in your sweater. You want him to free you from your misery, give you the release you waited so long for.
„I’m right here, Darlin’.” He starts circling his fingers, making your clit swell with desire. „Ride those fingers, I know you want to.”
And, oh, how right he is. The pressure of his hand in your jeans makes your head spin. You shift your hips, tasting the delicious feeling of his fingers. Burying your hands in his thick curls, you steady yourself and start moving. His fingers join the movement, at first slow. Relishing in each other.
„Good, baby. Good girl.” His lips brush against yours, but you chase after them, pulling him into a proper kiss. You nip at his lower lip. He groans into your mouth, because goddamn, you feel amazing. His fingers all slippery as he runs them through your folds in these precise strokes he knows that drive you crazy. The way you respond… your shivers, those unsure moans… Jesus Christ, he might come right into his pants.
Right now, neither of you can speak much. Four weeks of tension finally gave way to relief and nothing will stop you. You’re consumed by the enormous lust for each other. Consumed by the longing that only grew. Sure, you text and have long phone calls… But it’s nothing compared to this.
Skin to skin.
Breath to breath.
„Oh yes… Joel!” You gasp, when he slides his two fingers inside. Suddenly you feel so full, so perfect… Your head light, without any worries about your uni, or your life. Just Joel having his way with you.
„You like that, hm? Shit, I can feel you pussy choking them...” He mutters, his breath hot against your skin. You writhe beneath him, but he’s not having it. He pins you firmly to the wall, no space between you. His free hand goes to your wrist, wrapping around it tightly. He pins it beside your head, keeping you right where he wants you to be.
His fingers speed up, hitting deeper into your needy core. Your mind starts getting hazy as the pleasure coils low in your stomach. It’s there. It’s right there within your reach…
You grasp onto anything, digging your nails into his shoulders. Then higher, on his neck… He growls at the sting. He fucking loves this.
„You’re marking me up, baby? Shit, you know how much I like it.”
„I do…” You whimper, because it’s getting harder to think when he fingers you in that perfect pace. „You close, Darlin’? I can feel it. You want it bad, huh?” He mutters pecking your lips.
„Yes… Please.”
„You got it, baby. Come for me.”
His thumb joins his fingers, pressing against your clit. The rhythm is fucking amazing and the circles of his thumb? Unraveling.
Those delicious, soft moans ring in the hotel room. He admires your flushed skin and how your eyelids flutter when he fucks you with his fingers. The tilt of your head backwards, exposing your neck only tells him how good it feels. He knows you’ve been waiting. And, God, doesn’t it make him love you even more.
„Good fucking girl, come on.” He growls pushing you so your back hits the wall once again. The movement makes you clench around him until the pressure is unbearable.
You come with a desperate cry escaping your mouth. Shudders run through your whole body and Joel holds you through it all. God, you’re gorgeous like this. The guard down, skin flushed with how he wore you out. A drop of sweat rolls down your temple and Joel sweeps his tongue over it. You sigh weakly at the sensation.
He stops his hand, pulling it out of your jeans, only to suck his fingers off of your juices. The view almost makes you come again, the way he swirls his tongue over them… Jesus Christ.
When he’s done, he takes a better look at you.
„You good?” He asks, pulling a strand of your hair behind your ear.
„Y-yeah.” You breathe, still overwhelmed with the orgasm he just gave you. But the release only increased your craving for more. You need this man right now. You want to feel his cock stretch you in the best way possible. You think you might go feral, if he doesn’t fuck you this second.
But before you can do anything about it… he just pulls you into his arms. Into a hug that shows just how much he really longed for this moment. For this bitter-sweet reunion that happens every few weeks. You melt, relishing in the moment. In the musky scent of his cologne. The strength he keeps you close with.
Your lips find his neck, kissing him like you wanted since you saw him. You’re glad he holds you, because your legs still feel wobbly. With all you have, you push him, so he stumbles backwards to the bed with you. He smiles, trying to fight you, pushing back, but you’re stubborn.
Stubborn and horny.
„Don’t make it harder.” You say and with a final push his legs hit the edge of the king-sized bed. Joel laughs and before he can fall onto the mattress, he grabs you, spins just enough so it’s you who lands on the sheets. You huff at the smirk that he looks at you with. „Asshole.”
„You love me.”
„I do.”
It’s simple in its difficulty. You shared your feelings long ago. But both of you know that coming out as a relationship… It could end badly. So you just keep it secret. Secret calls, secret nights at the hotels. It works, even if you miss each other like hell.
He pulls your sweater over your head, letting you finally breathe. Your skin glistens with sweat, but his eyes focus on this naughty bra that covers your plump breasts. Your nipples perk through the thin material and he hums in appreciation.
Joel always appreciates art.
„Gosh, baby…” he shakes his head and leans in, bracing one hand on the mattress and pulls you into another hungry kiss. Your legs spread, inviting him closer. He doesn’t want to crush you with his weight, but goddamn you’re so sexy right now… His lips travel to your cheek, then your eyelids, making your breath catch. „How’s college?” He murmurs between kisses. It’s so Joel of him. He wants you as hell, but even then he’ll ask you about your life.
„Good. Passed the last exam for this semester.” You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer.
„You did?” He grins pecking your lips. „That’s my smart girl.”
He really adores your brain. Well, not everyone could get into Stanford. He really admires how much time you spend on learning. Though, sometimes it worries him that you don’t take enough care of yourself. That’s why he’s glad he can see you. Because he knows, with him you can relax.
You know it, too.
„Hold on tight, I need to take these off.” he smirks tugging at your jeans. You grasp the edge of the bed and with one swift movement he gets rid of them. Finally.
„Missed this gorgeous body.” He smiles and takes off his tie. Then he reaches for the buttons of his shirt. His tall frame stands above you and you feel this throbbing need between your legs.
„Missed yours, too, big man.” You bite your lower lip.
God, just the sight of it.
He undoes his shirt and soon it lands on the floor next to your sweater and jeans. You admire his muscled chest, formed from years of hard work before he became the businessman. He’s still in a good shape, though his stomach softened just a bit. But you love it. You love every single piece of him.
Joel leans in to take off your shoes and socks, as he does you spread your legs wider with a giggle. You see his nostrils move as he takes a deep inhale, your actions frustrating him even more.
„You’re asking for trouble, little lady.” His devilish smirk makes you pause and then shift your gaze to his hands as he unbuckles his belt. It falls to the floor with a thud. You’re watching mesmerized as he meticulously unzips his pants and shrugs them down his thick legs. His socks and boxers follow.
He’s completely bare before you, stroking his hard as rock cock.
„On the middle.” He nods at the mattress and you submissively move to lay there. He slowly follows, kneeling on the bed between your legs. „Do you need me to tell you what to do?”
„Yes.”
It’s a dynamic you worked out pretty quickly in your relationship. Joel likes to take your mind off things. He knows that with him you let go of your guard and eagerly follow the lead. It keeps you balanced. He’s aware that after weeks of studying you tend to be a nervous wreck.
„Then take off this sinful bra for me.”
You do, reaching behind you unclasp it. You don’t look where you throw it, too focused on your boyfriend. But he chuckles when the bra lands on the bedside lamp, nearly knocking it down. „Good aim.”
„Shut up.”
And, oh, he does, because finally there is no barrier between him and your tits. He hovers above you, just to dive in between them. He kisses and licks your breasts and you instantly arch into pleasurable touch. He bites on the sensitive skin, leaving a mark. You tug at his hair at the sensation, not sure if you want him closer or further. Gosh, what he does to you…
„Joel, please… Quit playing.” You breathe.
„Quit playing, huh? You want me to fuck your needy pussy?”
He lays a kiss on the column of your throat. Right where your blood runs.
„Yes… please, baby.” You nod eagerly, the tension is unbearable. Your first orgasm only increased your lust and you physically can’t bear it anymore.
„You’re lucky I’m impatient tonight, too.” He rasps and with one swift movement gets rid of your panties. He thinks he ripped them a bit, but… who the hell cares? His girl is lying here eager and hot.
That’s far more important.
Joel lines himself up with your heated entrance. One strong arm braced next to your head, while other hand has iron grip on your thigh. Definitely a handprint there later.
„Ready, baby? Still on those pills of yours?”
Your nod is all he needs to push inside. He’s not slow, not when he waited so long. He’s actually surprised he hasn’t came already in his boxers. But the wet heat of your pussy is enough of a reward for those weeks apart.
Joel groans when your soft walls envelope him. „Fuckin’ hell.”
You grasp the sheets, bracing yourself as he starts thrusting into you with that intense pace. You feel every vein, every throb deep inside you. The slick sound of you two is enough to make your head spin. He’s right here. With you. In you.
„Joel… Oh, so good.” You moan, reaching to hold onto his shoulders, he pulls you closer by your thigh. Your pelvis meeting his in the sensual movement. You try to remember to breathe when his lips again find your breasts, he sucks on them with enough pressure, making you tug him closer. „Like that…”
He exactly knows what you like, knows when to bite, when to kiss. When to speed up, or slow down. It’s like he’s got his personal playbook on how to make you see stars.
„You feel amazing. So tight…” He groans, leaning back as he fucks into you. „Put your legs on my shoulders, baby.”
His command sends a shiver down your spine. The way he says that, all firm and with this depth of his eyes… You obey, but are thankful when he helps you settle them just right.
The new angle is definitely what you both needed. Joel gives you a moment to adjust. But when you’re ready? He has no mercy.
His thrusts turn deep, almost punishing. He holds your legs in place, against his chest as he pushes hard. Your moans get louder as his cock hits that sweet spot deep inside of you. Over and over.
„Shit, keep those moans loud. Wanna hear my girl…” he growls. „How good I make her feel-”
Joel can’t stop admiring you. Your hair messily splayed over the mattress and those lips parted in pleasure… You are a fucking work of art. Same view makes him pound faster, chasing the inevitable, crashing release.
„Joel!”
He squeezes your thighs at this precious gasp.
Your hands now clutching the sheets beneath you. You’re writhing in pleasure, hips jointing his movement. The sensations make you confused, your mind too hazy, too overwhelmed. God, you love this state.
You love how he keeps hitting that spot.
You feel the orgasm coming.
It’s right fucking there.
Right…
„Not so fast.” Joel pulls out. He puts your legs down, flipping you onto your stomach. You whine pathetically, but your body is like jello — at this point you let Joel do anything. He positions you, lifting your hips just enough to dive into your slick pussy again.
The groan that leaves his mouth is so filthy. It rings in your ears, makes you clench around his cock. Joel feels it.
„Fuckin’ hell… So good to me tonight, aren’t you, baby?”
He presses his palm flat against your back, keeping your chest pinned to the bed. You feel so good when he takes what he wants. You relish in being good for him. It feels freeing.
It’s in the scent of sex filling the hotel room.
In the sounds of skin slapping as he pounds into you.
„Good fuckin’ girl.”
You’re gasping for air, his cock filling you to the hilt. You feel your desire running down your thigh. The power of his thrusts is so unraveling, you would collapse if he wasn’t holding your hip. He guides your movements by the waist, his large hand splayed out over your skin. Strong and solid.
„Joel… Gonna come…” You cry out.
„Then do. Come for your man, baby.” He raps, you can hear he’s barely holding on with how your pussy’s clenching around him. „Shit-”
You don’t know if it’s the way he keeps you in place, forcing you to stay pressed to the bed. Or if it’s the way he’s panting and groaning… Or maybe it’s the way his dick is filling you so perfectly…
All you know is that another orgasm rips you open, having you almost scream into the sheets, biting onto it as the shudders run through your body. He holds your shaking form, but he is not fucking stopping.
Instead, he follows you, unable to hold back when he hears those sweet cries of pleasure. He spills into you, his cum drips out of your overstimulated core. You whine, clearly having too much of sensations, but he rides out your orgasms until he collapses onto your back, covering you with his big frame. Just enough not to crush you, but enough for you to feel his warmth and his rapid heartbeat.
„Holy fuck…” he sighs exhausted and all you can do is trying to catch your breath. It’s been a lot, he knows. He knows you tend to stay quiet afterwards. So he presses a kiss to your shoulder blade. Then another. And then to the nape of your neck. All this to say he’s here.
He’s got you.
„You did good, Darlin’. So good for me.”
You tilt your head to glance at him and smile.
Gosh, that smile. It’s all he ever needs.
„Think you can give me another one?” He whispers, already sneaking his hand around to your front, and then between your legs.
Oh, fuck, of course you can.
You don’t feel your limbs, you barely steadied your breathing, but God knows you can.
„Thought you’d never ask.” You smirk tiredly.
Joel pecks your nose gently. His fingers find your clit. You wince slightly, but he eases it with another kiss. „She’s sensitive, huh? Don’t worry, it’ll feel good.”
You’re not worrying.
With Joel you’re never worrying.
He’s still resting above you. His chest to your back. This weight is keeping you grounded, though. What you’re doing now is much more intimate. Delicate.
That’s how it is with Joel. He can be both. Wild and calm. Rough and then sweet. You love every face of him.
You hum in pleasure as his finger rubs you. His softened cock is still buried deep inside of you, which just doubles the experience. You shift beneath him, just to create a small friction.
Joel peppers your back and shoulder with kisses. His lips get everywhere he can reach. Even to the corner of your lips. You smile to yourself.
It’s not about dirty talk now, or passion. This is pure about your pleasure. About making you feel all boneless and happy.
„Joel…”
„I’m right here.” He rasps gently, still supporting himself on his forearm not to crush you. He loves watching you like this, flushed and soft. Moaning quietly at his touch. „You’re so wet for me, baby…”
He speeds up just enough to get those overwhelmed sounds out of you. You just can’t keep them inside. Not when he’s leading you to a third orgasm. You’re already spasming with the sensation.
When he notices your breathing turn into panting again, he moves his hips, just one thrust of his, now half-hard, cock into your pussy. She clenches involuntarily and you gasp.
„You feel it, Darlin’? Getting me hard again? It’s all your doing.” He breathes against your skin. „Yes…” you squeeze the sheet in your hand.
Your third orgasm hits with another wave of shivers and that overwhelmed, weak whine he loves so much. He holds you through it, never stopping on kissing your skin. His fingers work long enough to make you completely oversensitive and spent. Until you have nothing in you.
You drop your forehead on the bed, trying to catch your breath. Joel pulls out from your tender pussy, as well taking away his hand from your clit. He rubs your back now in soothing rhythm, letting you calm down after the high.
„You alright?” He asks, always mindful of your wellbeing.
„Yes… that was just… a lot. I needed that.”
„I saw it the moment you stepped in here… Those eyebags… Bet you studied till late.” He rests a lingering kiss on your shoulder blade. He is not saying it to make you feel bad, he’s just concerned. You close your eyes, already sleepy after all this sex.
„Fortunately you are here, so I can unwind.” You mumble.
„Meeting me every few weeks shouldn’t be your only source of relaxation, baby.” He says, and you sense a hint of vulnerability in his voice. You know he’s worried. And it melts your heart, but also… What the hell does he know? He is never actually here to see what you’re doing.
No. You shouldn’t think like this.
You instantly cut off those thoughts.
He sighs softly when you don’t respond and finally leans back. That is not a good moment for any of this type conversations.
„I’ll prep us some bath, hm? Sounds good?”
„Yes. The best.”
„Okay. Don’t fall asleep on me here.” One more time he kisses you, this time on the head. And then he stands up, walking to the bathroom to fill the tub.
The next hour you spend soaking in the hot water. Joel’s arms around you, his lips on your neck. You catch up on everything, finally there’s a moment for both of you to talk. And how good does it feel to be in his arms again. No pressure, no outside world. Just the two of you in your bubble.
Afterwards, Joel wraps you in one of those fluffy hotel’s robes and carries you to bed. You giggle when he does it, making you feel so light and happy. He just knows your legs are still like jelly after what he did to you.
And when he lays you on the mattress, you believe you’ll just have a quick nap together. But no.
Not with Joel Miller who missed you so fucking much.
You look at him confused when he lays on his stomach before you, just a towel wrapped around his waist. Then… he spreads your legs.
„Joel. No.” You shake your had, trying to close them, but his grip is strong. „Joel… I’m sensitive.”
„Just one more, baby.” He whispers, leaving a feather-like kiss on the inside of your ankle. He breathes in a fresh scent of your skin. He scoots even closer, lips trailing up to your knee and thigh. Your resolve crumbles with every kiss he presses.
„But we already…”
„I haven’t seen you for four weeks, so now you’ll come at least four times, got it?” He looks at you from between your legs. His eyes have this decisive glint in them. His grip on you is tight just enough to make you squirm beneath it. And those wet curls on his head…
You can’t say no. Especially not when you feel another wave of wetness flood your pussy.
„Yes.” You whisper, biting your lip when he buries his head between your thighs.
Fucking hell.
You tilt your head backwards until it hits the pillow. You never had wild rounds like this with other partners before Joel. Four orgasms and it’s not even your record.
But it’s inevitable when your man looks like Joel. Acts like Joel.
Is Joel.
He brings the best out of you.
Just like now. With the licks of his tongue on your swollen clit. It’s too damn sensitive. You moan weakly, grasping his hair, seeking some balance as he unravels you with his tongue.
„Goddamnit.” You breathe, guiding his face just like you want it. Oh, he knows you like it.
He flicks just perfectly through your slick folds. Up and down. Then circling. Then pressing. „Oh, God.” You can’t help it, your back arches off of the mattress. You think you might cry. The desire is enormous as well as the need to push him away. It’s confusing. It’s too much…
It’s the best fucking feeling in the world.
„Joel, baby…” you moan. „I can’t…”
He pulls away, just enough to speak. „You can. Just look at me when I eat this sweet pussy.”
His velvet words force you to lift your head, just enough to watch how he savors your taste. He looks wrecked form just this. It’s like you’re undoing him just with your taste. With the sounds that he gets out of you. You close your thighs around his head when he hits a good spot with his tongue. This is unbearable.
You writhe beneath him, matching the pace of his tongue as he eats you. It’s too much. Too fucking much. You feel like you might implode.
„Joel… J-Joel!”
Your moans turn into weak cries and as the pressure grows…
You hit your peak with a strangled groan. Your heart beats so fast, like it might burst out of your chest. Your body trembles and he keeps eating. Rubbing his nose against your clit until few tears roll down your cheeks. You make an overwhelmed noise, tugging him away from your pussy.
He looks at you wide-eyed, with that boyish, proud smirk. You wish you could kiss it away, but you’re too damn shocked from what you’ve just experienced. Joel kisses the inside of your thigh and props himself to hover above you.
„Now, I can say I’m done. For a while.”
You chuckle, but the tears keep flowing. His expression softens and he leans in to kiss every single one of them. He got you to a point when your body is fully relaxed, so now he can also relax. Taking care of you in an emotional way, beyond just the physical one.
„I love you, baby.” He whispers.
„I love you, too.” You breathe, reaching your shaky hand to cup his cheek.
With that, he rolls onto his side of the bed and tugs you with him. Snuggling and safe. Completely spent and happy. Just like he planned.
You rest your head on his chest and he slides his hand beneath your robe, just to gently stroke your back. You close your eyes, enjoying his warmth and presence. He’s the only person who sees you like this. Guard off, responsibilities aside.
And you’re the same to him.
Because no one would ever assume that Joel Miller is capable of being such a softie. But he is for his girl. For you.
With you he is the guy to kiss away the tears. He’s the guy to hold until you fall asleep. He’s the guy to wake you up with breakfast and a peck on the forehead. Even he didn’t suspect himself of being like that.
And when he first felt this need to take care of you? He was terrified.
But now? Now, it’s the only right way to live his life. Even if usually there are miles between you.
It’s those stolen moments that matter.
From your routine, your problems… you’re your escapes. No matter if it’s pleasure, or emotional matters.
He’s there for you and you’re there for him.
You don’t know how long you sleep. You dozed off just few minutes after he gave you your fourth orgasm. But when you lift your head from his chest it’s already dark outside the window. Your legs tangled together, Joel’s eyes still closed.
You let yourself watch him for a while. He looks softer like this. Younger. Not like this serious constructing businessman. He looks like the man who makes love to you and then holds you until your breathing evens. You trace with your finger the few age spots he has on his chest. You lay a kiss right where his heart beats.
That’s when he opens his eyes.
„What time is it?” He asks, raspy from sleep. You smile. „I dunno.”
His hand gently rubs your arm, eyes checking if you’re still okay.
„Tea?” He asks, already sitting up.
„Yeah. But I can make it.” You say, ready to stand up, but he pins you back to the mattress. „Nah uh. You rest. I make the tea.”
With that he gets up. Puts on some sweats he had ready on the armchair and heads to the small kitchenette there is in the hotel room. You prop on your elbow, admiring his sexy back.
„You’re so handsome, you know?”
Joel chuckles.
The room is filled with the quiet hum of the kettle and him searching through cupboards for some mugs. Soon, he walks up to you holding to steaming mugs of green tea. He never liked drinking it, but… You make him do a lot of different things he never liked and yet with you… they seem bearable.
Together you sit against the headboard and sip the tea. Joel’s hand absent-mindedly strokes your leg that you threw over his lap. It’s comfortable. Peaceful.
„You have a meeting with my mom tomorrow?” You ask.
„Yeah… 10 A.M.” he sighs. „You’d be there?”
His question makes you pause. Usually you’re there, because your mom wants you to learn the business.
„No… I have a project to make with Simon.”
„Simon?” He glances at you. „Yeah, the guy from my year.”
„Hm.” Joel hums.
„Oh, you can’t be jealous.” You sip your tea, not wanting to get annoyed at him. Joel is perfect for you, but… just sometimes it gets hard when you’re doing long-distance.
„I’m not. Just sad that my girlfriend chooses a project with some guy, knowing I’m leaving in the evening.”
You look at him, eyes widening slightly in pain. He sees it. He sees it and he fucking hates himself.
„Shit, I’m sorry.” Joel sets his mug on the nightstand to focus just on you. He grabs your free hand. „I didn’t mean it...”
You look away, trying to hold back a sniffle. „You know, it’s hard for me too.” You say.
„I know. I do, I’m sorry, Darlin’… It wasn’t fair.”
He presses a kiss to your knuckles. You glance at him, seeing the guilty crease forming between his brows.
The situation you are in is difficult for both of you. The distance… The jealousy is normal. Especially when you don’t see each other every day. You try to somehow manage through that. Expressing your feelings and all. But despite it, the moment like this one do sometimes happen.
„I don’t want to fight.” You whisper. „Then let’s don’t…” he says, reaching for your mug to set is aside too. He envelopes you in his arms. You let him, resting your head on his shoulder. „I love you.” He mutters against your temple. You relax in the embrace. The slow raise and fall of his chest, soothing your nerves. You’re both aware those difficult moments are effects of the strong love that’s bonding you two.
And you’re not gonna waste your precious time together on fighting.
Especially not after the passionate moments you’ve just shared.
It’s hard, but you manage. You have each other.
Even if just for a night.
A/N: Thank you all for reading. I appreciate every comment or reblog. I hope you enjoyed it. Cheers❤️
Pairing: Joel and Tommy Miller X fem!Reader | W/C: ~11K | Rating: 18+ Minors DNI
Summary: After catching your ex-boyfriend in your bed with another woman, you pack up and leave. With no money and no car, you end up hitchhiking back to Texas. You're lucky enough to catch a ride with a nice Trucker named Joel. Things quickly heat up between you two, and only get hotter when you meet his brother.
Warnings: This is basically 11K words of straight filth (I have no excuses for myself). In my mind this is set in the early 2000s. Age gap but not specified (Joel is noted to be late 40s-50s). No use of Daddy. No use of Y/N. Porn watching. Female masturbation. Male masturbation. Sexual tension/flirting. Kink/fantasy exploration. Size kink. Safeword/explicit consent. Oral (m/f receiving). Threesome. Fingering. A LOT of unprotected p in v sex. Hard core cum kink/cum play. Creampies (a lot of them). Cockwarming. Cuckolding. Nipple stimulation. Adult entertainment stores. GLORY HOLE. Joel has a filthy fucking mouth in this one. Soft!Dom/sub dynamics. One ass smack. Pet names (Joel calls reader Bambi). Talk of feelings. Edging. Infidelity (readers ex). Masturbation denial (readers ex). Long hair Joel in a trucker hat deserves its own warning cuz ooof. Reader has female sex anatomy and has slight implied feminine descriptors. Pussy has pronouns (she/her). Joel is a little pervy but a gentleman. Praise kink. Use of good girl. There's a surprise guest appearance in addition to Tommy. Let me know if I missed anything!
A/N: Special shout out to my darling moot and friend @toxicanonymity for this filthy idea. This story was written with her permission based on this ask. I also blame @alltheirdamn for posting this photo and inspiring the threesome ideas.
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One bad day doesn’t make your whole life bad.
The message glares back at you, the words etched in Sharpie on the back of the bathroom stall in a shitty gas station in Reno. Next to it is for bad time call 775-397-04, the last two numbers are too smudged to read, and several other doodles you suspect might be the leftover artwork from people using the stall for anything other than its intended purpose.
You had managed to make it to Reno thanks to a kind older lady, Gladys, who had offered you a ride about 200 miles back.
“Can’t take you all the way, hunny, but I can get you to Nevada.”
She was nice; a little Elvis-obsessed, and you’d rather walk through a sandstorm fully nude than smell her breath again, but she kept her promise and got you where she said she would.
You told her the truth when she asked why you were alone and needed a ride.
You had followed this guy, convinced he was the love of your life. That was until the day you saw him with another woman, in your bed no less, and everything shattered. In a spur of anger and heartbreak, you decided to leave. Without a car or much money, your only option was to hitchhike back to Texas, silently praying your family would understand and take you back. Not likely, but it’s not like you had any other option.
“Good luck, Toots. You’ll be alright. Anyone gives you hell, just punch ‘em in the balls.”
You laugh at that. “I’ll keep that advice in mind, Gladys. Thanks for the ride.”
She gave you a stiff nod and popped the trunk. You grabbed your modest suitcase, a small thing that held only a handful of clothes, some of your favorite books, and the few memories you cared to bring.
You watched as she pulled out of the gas station parking lot, her window down, fingertips clutching a cigarette that dangled out of the window. The tires of her Crown Vic squealed against the gravel as she pulled out. And then, she was gone just like that, leaving you alone once more. More alone than you’ve ever been, you realize.
You turn to walk into the building, quickly scanning the walls for the restrooms, avoiding the clerk. Your life was already embarrassing enough, you didn’t need to add getting silently judged by a 7-11 gas station attendant in the middle of fuck-all nowhere.
You find the cleanest stall and let yourself cry.
One bad day doesn’t make your whole life bad.
Right.
You step out of the stall with a heavy sigh and slumped shoulders. It smells like artificial soap and bleach, and the mirror is scratched and clouded at the edges. The fluorescent lights buzz overhead, reflecting harshly on your now puffy eyes. You run cold water over your face, drying it with the rough paper towels that disintegrate like melting snow, and do your best to rid yourself of the grossness you feel.
You give yourself your best it’ll be okay look in the mirror, and step out.
You head to the gas station counter and buy a cheap bottle of water with the last of your cash. The clerk gives you a sympathetic look but offers no words. You step outside and lean against the building, scanning the horizon for any sign of a kind soul willing to give you a lift, but no such luck.
The sun dips lower, and you decide you can’t stay here. You pull out the map Gladys gave you and assess your options. The nearest town is about three miles up the road, give or take a mile or two, you’re not really sure how to read this damn thing anyway. Walking the whole way doesn’t sound ideal, and the flip-flops on your feet aren’t really up for the job either, but you’ve never been one to complain.
Despite your best efforts, the cars just zoom past, one after another, leaving you with nothing but a cloud of dust each time. You hold out your thumb again, hope dwindling when, finally, a semi-truck slows down and halts to a stop in front of you.
The door swings open, and you look up and into the cab.
And oh.
His eyes glaze over your body, the suitcase in your hand, looking you up and down before they meet yours.
“Needa ride?”
You're wide-eyed, like a doe caught in the middle of a highway, the realization hitting you that maybe this isn't such a good idea after all.
He notices your apprehension and cracks a half-smile.
All you can do is nod.
“Where ya headin’ to?”
“Texas,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.
He nods, patting the passenger seat. “Hop on in then, Bambi.”
It might be a no-good, terrible idea, but you do it anyway.
++++
You’ve never been in a semi before. You wouldn’t necessarily consider yourself afraid of heights, but you have to admit you’re pretty far up. The inside is far more spacious than it looks on the inside.
You give him a small smile as you adjust onto the seat, barely meeting his eye as you do, trying to look anywhere but. He watches as you pull the safety belt across your lap and nods when he hears it click into place.
“Joel,” he says, extending his hand out to yours.
You offer your name in return and feel heat rush to your chest when his large hand encloses yours.
“Thanks for the ride, Mr. Joel,” you say, shaking it slightly.
"Just Joel, darlin'," he says, dropping your hand. He brings it to the mesh hat on his head, taking it off to push back his curls. You notice the strands of grey that thread through the brown. “Ready?”
You're not sure if you are, but you nod anyway. You watch as he shifts the truck into gear, checks the mirrors, and then pulls out.
You ride in silence.
Through the corner of your eye, you see him occasionally glance over at you, his lips slightly parting like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t.
After a few minutes, you shift your attention from the road and begin to look around the truck. The front dash is covered in patterned fabric that’s starting to fray at the edges. The interior seems a little dated but relatively clean. There’s a coffee cup in one of the drink holders and a pack of sunflower seeds in the other. There’s a cinnamon-scented air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror.
It’s kind of cozy. Not in a way that feels cozy, like coming home after a long trip away, but it’s comfortable.
You decide to break the silence.
“Nice setup you’ve got here,” you say, reaching out to touch the fabric on the dash. “Did you do all this yourself?”
Joel glances over, a hint of pride in his eyes. “Yeah. Spend so much time in here, might as well feel like home, you know?”
Home.
You’re not sure what that feels like anymore.
You give him your best smile and nod like you understand what he’s trying to say.
You chat for a little longer, letting him do most of the talking. You learn he’s been in trucking for over a decade, something he got into when his back could no longer handle his contractor job. He plays the guitar. He’s a fan of spaghetti westerns and a native of Texas. He has a younger brother named Tommy. He’s a little rough around the edges, but he seems like a decent man.
His eyes stay on the road for the most part, apart from the occasional glance over he’ll give you. You notice his eyes drop to your bare thighs every time he does, but you don’t mind. You can tell he’s curious about you. And you would be, too, if the roles were reversed, but he doesn’t pry.
The conversation naturally ends, and you both begin to ride in silence once more.
You gaze out the passenger window, watching the sun dip below the horizon behind the rock formations. In true desert fashion, the sunset is spectacular – the sky transforms into a canvas of deep oranges and purples, giving way to night.
Now hidden in a tinge of darkness, the only light coming from the illuminated buttons on the truck's dashboard, you take a moment to look at him—really look at him.
He has a strong jawline, a perfect slope to his nose, and facial hair that’s just beginning to gray. You think he might be in his late 40s or early 50s, but he wears it well. He's handsome in a way that’s solid, sure of itself. It unmoors you.
You shift in your seat, trying to shake off the feeling. You crack the window, letting the cool breeze caress your face. You lean back on the seat and close your eyes; you’re more exhausted than you thought.
Joel glances over, catching the weariness on your face. He clears his throat, and you blink your eyes to look at him.
“If you’re tired, you can go lay down on the bed in the back,” he says, his voice gentle. “It ain’t the Ritz, but the mattress is pretty comfy. I even have some fresh sheets in the cabinet above it.”
You lean up from the seat, a little surprised by the offer.
“Really?”
“Yeah, sure. There’s a TV back there, too, if ya wanna watch something.”
It’s a simple offer, but the kindness behind it makes your heart flutter a bit.
“Thanks, a bed does sound nice,” you say as you unhook the seatbelt.
You move to the back. As you do, he risks a glance over his shoulder, taking in the view of your ass and the flesh that peeks out from the cut of your daisy dukes before quickly returning his attention back to the road.
Fuck, he’s in trouble.
From the front, the truck seemed huge, but now you realize it's even bigger than you thought. In the center, there's a decent-sized bed with a TV positioned across from it. There's not much room to walk around, but just enough to get by. You drop your bag and pull out the fresh sheets from the cabinet, exactly where he said they'd be.
As you’re pulling the old sheets from the bed, you feel something under the corner of the mattress. Lifting it slightly, you find a bottle of lube. A moment of awkwardness washes over you, but you quickly brush it aside, place it back where you found it, and finish making the bed.
As you settle onto it, you look around for the remote but can’t find it.
“Hey, uh Joel, where’s your remote?”
“Oh shit, um, check the nightstand.”
“Thanks,” you call out, opening the drawer. Inside is the remote, a copy of a Lonesome Dove, a pair of reading glasses, and some Tums. Most definitely in his 50s, then.
You lay back on the pillows, pull the blankets over your body, and point the remote at the screen.
When the screen turns on, you’re immediately met with the sight of a woman on her knees, mouth stuffed full of a large cock, hair a tangled mess in the fist of the man above her as he uses it to guide her up and down on his shaft.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
You fumble for the off button, but something stops you. Your ex-boyfriend had a hard rule about you touching yourself without him. That should have been your first red flag, but he was charming enough that you could make do with that. He wasn’t a bad lay, and you did occasionally orgasm with him, but you haven’t actually made yourself come in you don’t even know how long.
You glance toward the entrance to the back of the cab to make sure Joel isn’t watching, double-check the sound is all the way off, and decide to let yourself watch.
You watch, captivated, as the scene unfolds. It’s a little corny, the way she slobs on his cock, but she looks like she’s enjoying it. You watch as the man tugs her up by her hair and mouths something you can’t hear as he quickly bends her over and fucks her with his fingers.
You dip your hand below the band of your shorts and rest it above your panties as you watch him slide another finger into her wet, wanting cunt. Your fingers slide beneath the fabric, slipping through your slick to press against your clit.
It feels a bit bold to do this here, but boy, do you need it. Your body feels foreign, but you quickly reacquaint yourself, finding that perfect pressure and making small, satisfying circles with two of your fingers.
You can't hear it, but you can tell from the way the camera captures her face, her eyes rolling back into her skull, that she's coming. You’re close, but you hold off from your release, wanting to see him fuck her. The man pumps his cock with his fist a few times before lining himself up against her wet hole.
You start to pick up the pace of your movement as the tip of him presses against her entrance, parting her swollen folds as he feeds her his cock. He starts slow, taking his time to slick himself in her release. Before long, he’s fucking her hard, holding onto her hips for leverage. You watch as her tits bounce, and he pulls her down and back onto him.
You feel the pressure build, the intensity of knowing you could be caught by Joel at any second only adding to your arousal.
You come just as the man does, muffling your moans with the pillow, watching his hips flush against her ass as his hands grab her flesh. The camera pans to a close-up of him pulling out, followed by the sight of thick white cum oozing out of her.
You watch in a daze, hand still between your thighs, as the scene ends. You change the channel, then turn off the TV.
As you stare at the ceiling of the cab, still enraptured by your release, you think about the last time that you actually felt this good. You think about what it might be like to be pumped full of hot cum, filled to the brim by a large cock.
Everything else in your life was falling apart, but maybe this was one problem you could actually solve.
Trucking must get lonely, after all.
++++
Joel must have let you sleep for a while because when you wake up, the sun is just starting to rise. You hastily make the bed and change in the back before heading up front, finding Joel right where you left him.
“You drove through the night?” you ask, wiping some sleep from your eyes.
“Got a late start yesterday. Usually like to drive through the night anyway, fewer idiots on the road.”
You must have stopped recently, though, since he's sipping what looks like a fresh cup of coffee. You're surprised when he reaches over to the center of the dash, eyes still on the road, and hands you one too.
“You sleep okay?” he asks. You let the warmth and aroma of the coffee slowly wake you up.
“Yeah, thanks. I really needed that.” You smirk, knowing you needed a little more than just sleep. You buckle yourself into the passenger seat.
“Thanks for the coffee, by the way. You didn’t have to do that.”
“I don’t mind,” he says, holding his cup in one hand, the other gripping the wheel. Now that you're more alert and less tired than yesterday, you notice how big he actually is. His thick thighs take up most of the seat, and his arms are tan and muscular.
You squeeze your thighs together and try to ignore the aching want that hasn’t gone away since last night. It doesn’t help that he keeps looking at you like you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever laid eyes on.
“So, tell me about your load,” you say, hiding your smile behind your cup. You watch as his neck turns pink, and he clears his throat.
“My, uh —” he looks over at you, but you’re already holding his gaze. He wonders if you intentionally phrased it that way.
“It’s just a bunch of construction stuff; pipe and stuff.”
He blushes even more when he realizes how that sounds. You get a kick out of him being flustered and decide to press him a little more.
“And what are you gonna do with that pipe, Joel?”
He sets his coffee down and clears his throat again, his grip so tight on the steering wheel that his knuckles bleach.
“What am I — uh, it’s not for me. Just dropping it off for a company,” he says, adjusting his net hat and looking firmly out the windshield.
You look over at him and try not to make your amusement at his embarrassment too obvious. He’s cute when he’s flustered.
He doesn’t look over at you for the next hour.
He can’t.
Not when you’re asking him questions about his load, looking at him like that.
It's early afternoon when Joel says he needs to stop for the night. He made good time driving through the darkness, but his company has strict rules about maximum drive times.
He pulls off the highway at the next town and into a motel parking lot. It's a small place, probably no more than 15 rooms. The parking lot is massive, likely a popular stop for truckers with how long and wide it is.
Your stomach sinks. You don't know how to tell him you can't afford your own room, that you barely had enough money for a bottle of water yesterday.
He parks the truck, and as the engine falls silent, he steps out of the cab. Just as you're about to open your door, he rounds the front and opens it for you, offering his hand to help you out. The gesture makes your stomach swoop.
Standing next to him now, you realize how tall he actually is. He's a broad, solid man. His dark jeans grip his legs perfectly, and his t-shirt fits snugly across his broad chest. He's truly a sight.
You reluctantly follow him into the motel and stop him just short of the front desk.
"Joel, I—I don't think I can stay here."
He looks down at you, a deep crease between his brows.
"We can try to find somethin' a little nicer if ya—" you cut him off, bringing your hand to his bicep.
"No, no, it's not that. It's just, well, it's a little embarrassing," you say, pulling your hand back, your arms wrapping around yourself.
"What is it?"
"I can't afford it. I don't have any money for a room," you say, gaze glued to the ground.
"'S alright, Bambi. I can take care of it," he says, bringing one hand to your cheek, using his thumb to tilt it up to look at him.
You smile at him, knowing you should push back, try and fight his kindness a little more, but you don’t.
He walks over to the front desk, and you follow behind. He's greeted by a man who looks like he just rolled out of bed. The name tag affixed to his shirt says Dieter.
"Howdy. Two queen rooms for the night, please."
Dieter looks at his computer, shoots a glance at you, and returns his gaze to Joel.
"Sorry man, no can do. Looks like we're pretty booked. Best I can do is one king room."
"Uhh," Joel says, hesitating, one hand now rubbing the back of his neck.
Joel turns and shoots a look at you, almost a question. You’re looking at him with those doe eyes again.
"We can find another motel in the next town over," he tells you, but you see the exhaustion on his face. You don’t want to make him drive to another town. You’re already more than an inconvenience to him, no need to pile on.
"It’s fine, Joel. I can sleep on the floor."
"You ain't sleepin' on the floor. I'll sleep on the floor," he tells you before he turns back to the man and says he'll take it.
It doesn’t take long to get the keys. The room is on the west side of the building. Joel swings a bag over his shoulder and insists on carrying your suitcase for you, too.
The room isn’t much. One big king bed in the middle, just like the man said, a TV across from it, and a small chair with a side table in the corner. It's sparsely decorated apart from a lamp on the nightstand and a picture of a beach above the bed, one of those cheesy prints from the 90s. It’s not much, but it’s clean and cool.
Joel drops the bags and offers to let you shower first, which you happily accept. It’s been far too long since you’ve had a proper one, not just a quick wash from a bathroom sink
When you’re in the shower, Joel sits in the chair across from the bed, his eyes fixed on the TV in the room. He decides to watch the fucking Weather Channel, a poor attempt at distracting himself from his raging hard-on.
It came on the second you closed the bathroom door.
He couldn’t help it, the thought of you naked in the room right next to him, what you might look like all soaped up and wet.
It doesn’t help that you’re singing in the shower, some song Joel doesn’t know, but fuck if you don’t sound pretty doing it. He wonders how sweet you might sound, moaning his name as he splits you open.
He’s about to touch himself when he hears the water shut off. You open the bathroom door and emerge from the steamy room, a white towel wrapped around your frame, strands of wet hair clinging to your neck, your skin glistening.
Fuck.
“All yours,” you say before walking across the room to your suitcase, leaving the scent of your shampoo in your wake. You smell divine, like toasted coconut with a hint of tangerine. It’s intoxicating.
He gets up from the chair fast, his hand in front of his crotch, quickly turning so you can’t see what you’ve done to him.
He’s never been one to take a long shower, but you don’t know that. He takes the opportunity to fuck his fist, coming fast and hard into the stream below, doing his best to muffle his moans under the sound of the water.
You try not to stare when he emerges from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. You knew he was in shape from how his clothes fit, but seeing him shirtless is a whole different story. His chest is broad and muscular, with just a little hair there. You can see the faint outline of his upper abs, but he's a bit soft around the middle, with a delicious tummy that makes you want to sink your teeth into him.
You’ve already dried and dressed, but you feel yourself get wet at the sight of him.
“I’m gonna get some fresh air while you get dressed,” you tell him, quickly stepping out of the room. You lean against the building, staring out into the parking lot, trying to ignore the restlessness between your legs, that deep, aching want that only seems to grow stronger.
You’re not sure you’ve ever wanted someone more.
After a few minutes, the door to the room opens, and he steps out. He’s changed into a pair of dark denim jeans and a nice shirt, even wearing a belt. He’s left off the hat, and his dark curly hair is pushed back. And damn, he smells good. The musky scent of his cologne, the fresh mint from his toothpaste, and the clean smell of his deodorant blend together perfectly.
“You look nice,” you say, not even bothering to hide the fact that you’re blatantly eyeing him.
“You too, Darlin’. Now let’s go, ‘m starving,” he replies, his eyes lingering on you just a moment longer than usual, adding to the tension simmering between you.
Your stomach growls, reminding you that you're hungry too. You follow him through the parking lot, initially heading toward his truck, but he gestures for you to continue walking.
“‘Ts not that far, there’s a diner just up the road.”
You catch up to him and walk by his side until the diner comes into view. He holds the door open for you, his free hand resting on the small of your back as he guides you in. The simple touch sends a wave of heat rising to your chest.
The waitress is warm and welcoming, and the kitchen is quick and efficient. You both opt for a burger and fries. Conversation flows easily, and at one point, you even ask Joel about the weather forecast for the week. He lies on the spot, not remembering a damn thing about what was on the screen. As you talk, you get to know each other a little more, and you find yourself opening up about your past, including your ex. Joel's eyes darken with a protective edge as he listens, clearly thinking you deserve better.
When you finish dinner, Joel notices you glancing at the small sign on the table with a picture of a chocolate milkshake on it.
When the waitress stops by to see if you want dessert, you start to say no, but Joel orders one for you anyway. Your visible excitement is unmistakable when it arrives, eyes wide as you take in the mountain of whipped cream on top.
You lick at the cream, a little landing on your lower lip. Joel feels himself harden at the sight. He took care of himself earlier, hoping this wouldn’t happen, but of course, you find a way to make eating whipped cream the hottest thing he’s ever seen.
“Can I ask you a question?” you say, still distracted by your milkshake, its coolness a stark contrast to his hot and heavy gaze.
You bring a scoop of whipped cream on your finger to your mouth and suck on it, holding his gaze while you do. You smile when you see that familiar blush crossing his face.
“Anything,” he says earnestly.
You think he means it.
“Why did you agree to help me?” you ask, taking another sip. “You know, by giving me a ride and stuff. You’re being so nice to me and I guess I just want to know why.”
“Oh. Um, well, I guess the simplest answer is that I don’t think I could live with myself if I didn’t. Pretty little thing like you, ‘t’s dangerous out here, a lot of bad men in the world. Couldn’t go to sleep at night knowing I just passed you by, knowing I could have helped.”
“You think I’m pretty?”
“All that, and that’s what you picked up?” His eyes drink you in, the flush visible on his cheeks. You just smile as you lean back in the booth, holding his gaze.
“Yeah, Bambi. I do.” He says, dropping some cash on the table.
After you’ve finished the last of your milkshake, he slips out of the booth and offers you his hand again. The walk back is silent, but the tension is thick enough to feel.
You’re not sure what it is about him and the want he awakens inside of you. You think maybe it’s his kindness or the way he looks at you, but you don’t want to overthink it.
You want him. The ache in your chest and the heat in your veins all confirm it. And you’re starting to think that maybe, just maybe, he wants you, too.
His hand slips into his jeans pocket, fingers brushing against the motel key. Your eyes lock, an electric current sparking between you. He hesitates, the key poised above the lock, the moment stretched taut like a bowstring.
Everything hangs in the balance, the air thick with unspoken desire. You can't tear your gaze from his lips, noticing the way they part slightly, the soft plumpness inviting you in. Your breath catches as you glance up through your lashes, meeting his eyes with a silent answer.
The world narrows down to this moment, this decision. He sees it in your eyes, the undeniable yes.
And with that, he turns the key.
The motel room door isn’t fully closed before he’s on you, one hand on your hip, the other firm on the back of your neck. He crowds you back, pressing you further into the room until he’s pinned you between the wall and him.
He lowers his head to your neck, his lips grazing the skin of your throat. The touch sends shivers down your spine, your pulse quickening under his mouth. You can feel the heat radiating from his body, his breath warm against your skin. His grip tightens, his fingers digging into your hip, grounding you.
“You sure you want this, darlin’,” he murmurs, “because once I start ‘m not gonna be able to stop.”
You feel the soft press of his lips against your erratic pulse, the slow drag of his teeth drag up the side of your neck.
A moan slips from your lips.
“Need you to use your words, baby.” He sucks a mark on your throat, and you melt a little under his touch.
“Yes, Joel, I want you,” you say, earning a small groan from him.
“Music to my fuckin’ ears, sweetheart,” he says, his firm hand still on the back of your neck. You angle your chin to face him, and his lips find yours. He kisses exactly the way you thought he would – it’s deep, intense, commanding.
You moan into his mouth as he sucks your bottom lip between his teeth, and you twist your hands into the fabric of his shirt. Your fingertips graze the top of his belt, then drop lower, feeling the hard shape of him through the denim.
His breath hitches at your touch, and he presses even closer, his hips grinding against you. You can feel his heartbeat, rapid and strong, matching the pounding in your chest. His lips leave yours, trailing hot kisses down your jawline to the sensitive skin of your neck.
“God, you feel so good,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice thick with desire.
Your hand moves more boldly now, tracing the outline of him with your fingers, feeling him harden even more under your touch. He groans, the sound vibrating through you, and you can’t help but arch into him, seeking more contact.
“Patience, baby,” he purrs, “Wanna see you first.”
His hands roam over your body, exploring every curve and dip. He finds the hem of your shirt and tugs it upward, breaking away from you just long enough to pull it over your head. He discards it carelessly, his eyes darkening as they rake over your now-exposed skin.
You toe off your shoes and work to take off your bra, all while Joel unbuttons your jeans. You wiggle your hips to assist him in removing the barrier. After what seems like no time at all, you’re nearly fully nude in front of him, bare save your white cotton panties.
“Holy fuck,” Joel says, taking a small step back and admiring the view. He looks at you like you’re a piece of art, prettier than anything he could have conjured up in his mind.
He steps forward and puts his hand on your waist, using his thumb to trail over your soft skin. Goosebumps collect like pebbles on your skin from the cool air, and your nipples harden from his touch.
You push your chest to him, for him. He accepts your offering; swipes a calloused thumb across your plush, silky nipple, and crouches to catch the other in his desperate mouth. He groans into your chest the second your nipple meets his lips. You can’t control the deep hum that escapes from your throat. Joel smirks at the sound, lips still attached to your breast.
“Joel,” you moan.
He trails kisses down the valley of your breasts, across the soft swell of your stomach, whispering praise against your skin as he goes. His voice is a low, soothing murmur, each word sending shivers down your spine. You drape your hands over his broad shoulders, fingers threading through the curls that gather at the back of his head, holding him close as he works his way down to the band of your panties.
On his knees, he places both of his hands on the curves of your hips and holds you steady while he looks up at you. He looks up at you like a man starved, his pupils so dark they edge out most of the brown, his hooded eyes are almost a plea for you to let him continue.
“Can I taste you?” he asks, already hooking his thumbs in the band of them, awaiting your permission.
You pause with your mouth agape a bit, he wants to taste you. Your ex only ever ate you out when he was drunk, his tongue too sloppy to really make it worth it.
“Only if I can taste you after,” you tease. His prominent nose presses into your mound and groans.
“Could you get any more perfect?” he praises. His cock twitches against the confines of his jeans.
His hands are warm and sure as they slide beneath the fabric, pulling your panties down with agonizing slowness. You take a small step out of them, and he gently caresses up the back of your calve and back of your thigh, his hand landing on the curve of your ass. He tightly grabs the flesh there.
He gently guides your leg up onto one of his shoulders, and you press back into the wall and lean your pelvis closer to him. The anticipation is electric, every nerve ending in your body alive and buzzing with need. His lips follow the path of his hands, kissing along the newly exposed skin, his breath hot against your thighs.
“What a cute little cunt,” he praises before leaning in to place an experimental kiss on the top of your mound. You let out a soft little sound at the feeling of his lips on your skin.
He gets bold with his kisses, and once you’re comfortable with his mouth on you, he glides his middle finger through your dropping folds before flipping it so it’s wrist up, pausing with the pad of it right at the entrance of your tight hole.
You look down at him with your lusty doe eyes that have been driving him crazy since he first saw you and bite your lower lip in anticipation. He looks at you and gently nudges the nip in, he holds it there for a brief second before fully thrusting it up into your core, holding your gaze as he enters you. You gasp.
“Oh, she’s tight, too,” he moans as he continues to feel you, eventually putting his mouth back on your pussy, his lips sealed around your puffy clit. His large finger pumps in and out of you as his tongue flicks and swirls where you need him the most.
“More,” you moan, “Fuck–please, Joel, give me more,” you mewle.
“That’s my girl, gonna stretch you out, get you nice and ready for this cock,” he whispers against your wet skin as he slips another finger in, one you greedily accept.
He devours you, lapping at you like you’re a popsicle on a hot summer day. His tongue is precise and relentless, each flick and swirl overwhelming your senses. It's so good, so intense, that you feel like you're going to come apart at the seams.
“Joel,” you gasp, your voice trembling with need. “I—”
He looks up at you briefly, his eyes dark with hunger and desire, before doubling down on his efforts. The world narrows to the sensation of his tongue, the heat of his mouth, and the steady rhythm that drives you closer and closer to the edge.
Heat pools in your lower abdomen, and the world becomes fuzzy at the edges of your vision.
You moan as he sets a relentless pace with his mouth and fingers, slowly tightening the coil inside of you in a way you’ve never felt before. Time slows briefly, and your vision goes white, little specks of light dancing behind your eyelids, heat rushing up to your chest and cheeks.
Until –
“Holy shit, yes, I’m coming, oh my god, don’t stop,” you unravel for him, a babbling mess of pleasure, he holds you steady as he works you through it. And when he’s satisfied that you’re satisfied, he gently hoists your leg off of his shoulder and rises to his full height.
“Such a good girl for me, you come so pretty,” he whispers against your neck, nipping at your jaw until his lips find yours. You taste yourself on them, feel the wetness in his beard. He slips his tongue into your mouth, and you moan. It’s so hot to taste yourself on him, dizzying that wants to taste you on his tongue.
“My turn,” you wink at him, hooking your fingers into his belt loops. It’s your turn to press him back, and you do, guiding him until he bumps into the bed and takes a seat on the mattress.
On jelly-like legs, you begin to kneel before him, holding his gaze as you do. The look in his eyes is a mix of anticipation and hunger, and it sends a thrill through you.
You place your seemingly tiny palms on his very large thighs, gliding them up to meet his belt. You watch his face as you make quick work of unbuckling it. His breath hitches, eyes darkening with desire.
Pants next, you pull the zipper down, and he helps you take them all the way off. You pause to palm the length of him under the single piece of fabric left on him, feeling the heat and hardness beneath. His breath catches, and you see the muscles in his jaw tighten.
With deliberate slowness, you pull his boxers down, far enough for his cock to finally spring free. The length of him slaps against his soft tummy, leaving a little smear of pre-cum in its wake. You can’t help but take a moment to admire him, the sight of him fully aroused, sending a fresh wave of desire through you.
You wrap your hand around him, feeling his weight and heat, and his hips jerk slightly at the contact. You look up at him, his eyes half-lidded with pleasure, lips parted as he watches you intently.
You take his heavy cock in hand and begin to stroke it slow and rhythmically, admiring its size. Joel's head falls back as if to gaze at the ceiling – you’ve barely touched him, and already he’s melting like putty.
You wet your lips, duck down to the base of his shaft, and plant a small kiss at the base of his cock.
“God damn, Bambi,” he retorts.
You hum as you flatten your tongue and lick a long, wet stripe up the underside of his dick and stop at the top with your mouth open wide. As you hold the tip of him in your mouth, your tongue darts out to taste the salty, musky flavor of his pre-cum. His hands tangle in your hair, gentle but insistent, as you take him into your mouth.
The sound he makes as you begin to move, slow and deliberate, is nothing short of primal. You can feel his thighs tense beneath your palms, his breath coming in ragged gasps as you work him with your mouth and hands.
You hollow your cheeks, taking him deeper, the feel of him against your tongue and the sounds of his pleasure spurring you on. His fingers tighten in your hair, guiding your movements, his control slipping with each passing second.
“Whoa, back up now, Darlin’,” Joel huffs, “Gonna make me blow my load.”
You smile around him, the vibration of your laughter making him shudder. You ease off his cock, and look up at him with hungry eyes. He pulls you up by the back of your neck and brings his hands to your hips.
“Fuck, look at you,” he says, turning you around so you’re lying down on your back under him.
“I wanna fuck you,” he rasps in your ear. You reach up and tangle your fingers through his hair as he nips at your jaw.
“I want you to fuck me,” you coo.
“I don’t have a condom, but I promise I’m clean,” and you believe him.
“I have an IUD, and I’m clean, too. Please, Joel, please fuck me,” you wiggle your hips a little under him. He doesn’t need much convincing.
He positions himself at your entrance and gently pushes his hips forward so the tip of him is inside of you. He pauses there, giving you a second to adjust. Your heart throbs in your chest, and your eyes flicker closed.
“Eyes on me, baby,” he says, his voice a wreck. When you open them, he sinks even deeper. Halfway inside of you, he pauses again.
“Too much?” he asks. You shake your head no, tell him you want all of him.
After he’s confident you’re ready, he pushes his hips forward once again, fully burying himself deep inside of you.
Your pussy walls clench against him, and your jaw goes slack. He fucks you deep and slow, giving you time to adjust to his size. It’s all whispered praises in your ear, a firm grip on your hips, and his cock barely leaving your cunt before he slams back into you, desperate to keep himself buried inside of you.
“Shit, baby, I can feel you squeezing me, taking me so good —” his words break with a moan as you come for the third time, falling apart on his cock, before he adds, “Little cunt is choking my cock.”
He begins to set a relentless pace.
“Touch your clit for me, sweetheart,” and you do. His cock fits just right, pushing and gliding over the spongey spot inside of you that makes you see stars. He pumps in and out of you, eliciting throaty moans from you. The air is filled with the filthy, wanton sound of skin slapping against skin.
“I –” you mewl, “I think I’m gonna come again,” you say, breathless.
“Yeah?” he says, breath short, voice deep, “Such a good girl, want you to come for me, show me how pretty you look when you do.”
You think you could come from just his words alone.
Your pussy pulses around him as the wave of your orgasm takes over you, your mind hazy and filled with nothing but the thought of the way he fills you just right.
His movements begin to slow. You can tell he’s close.
“Where do you want me?”
“Inside. Want you to come inside of me,” you beg.
After a few more thrusts of his hips, he begins to stutter and slow. He pauses, buried to the hilt inside of you, and groans as his cock paints your insides with thick ropes of cum.
He holds you there, both of your breaths coming a little ragged, his body shaking and jolting a little. You feel him pulse inside of you. He plants kitten kisses on your face and pushes the hair back from your forehead.
Still plugged, he kisses you again. This time is different—not as intense as the first few, but still scorching, still brimming with passion. His hands travel up and down your back, drawing you closer, as if trying to memorize the feel of you against him. You melt into the kiss, the intimacy of it sinking deep into your bones.
When he pulls out, you let out a small moan, a little sad your pussy has nothing to clench around anymore. He rests on his shins and tells you to spread your legs wide for him.
“Full of me, ain’t ya?” He smirks as he says it, admiring the way his cum dribbles out of you.
He fills you up twice more before dawn.
++++
The next two days on the road feel different—you're happy to spend the time with him, admiring him as he drives. There's a comfort and ease between you now, a silent understanding that didn't exist before.
You find ways to keep yourself busy, fighting the boredom from the endless stretch of highway rolling beneath you. Sometimes, you read, the rhythmic hum of the engine providing a soothing background noise. Other times, you watch the scenery change, marveling at how vast and varied the landscape can be.
You and Joel talk, sharing past stories and funny encounters. You open up to him about your biggest fears and deepest desires, something you've never done with anyone, ever.
Joel listens intently, his hand still holding yours, his thumb gently stroking your skin in silent encouragement. There’s a sense of safety with him, a feeling that you can tell him anything without judgment.
At one point, he asks you about your biggest fantasy. One immediately comes to mind, of course, but you feel a flush of embarrassment. You hesitate, the words caught in your throat.
Joel squeezes your hand, his voice soft and reassuring.
“Hey, no judgment here, Bambi. I promise.”
Taking a deep breath, you finally let the words tumble out. “I’ve always fantasized about being with two men at once. I don’t know, there is just something so hot about being used and cummed in twice.”
His eyes darken with understanding, and a slow, knowing smile spreads across his face. “Thank you for telling me,” he says like he’s tucked the information away for later.
But more often than not, between conversations, you find yourself stealing glances at Joel, appreciating the way he handles the wheel, the concentration etched on his face, the way his muscles move beneath his shirt.
Sometimes, it’s so much that you can’t help but touch yourself. You make yourself come on your fingers in the passenger seat, making him verbally direct each of your moves. There was even one stretch of highway that was so boring that you crawled onto his lap while he was driving, and cock warmed him for an hour before he couldn’t take it anymore and pulled off to a rest stop and fucked you in the back of the cab for hours before you both finally gave in to sleep.
On your fourth day on the road with him, you wake up with a sinking feeling in your stomach. It’s your last day together, and the thought of it hits you harder than you expected. You both haven’t talked about it and for some reason, it feels like your heart is breaking more than when you caught your ex in bed with another woman.
Joel curls around you, and you feel the press of his lips on your shoulder.
You sigh, trying to hold onto the warmth of his embrace for just a little longer. His arms tighten around you.
“Morning, baby,” he murmurs, his voice thick with sleep.
“Morning,” you whisper back, trying to keep the sadness from your voice.
He shifts, propping himself up on one elbow to look at you. “What’s wrong?”
You force a smile, shaking your head. “Just...thinking about today.”
He frowns, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about it too.”
Silence stretches between you, the unspoken reality of your impending separation hanging heavy in the air.
“I wish this didn’t have to end,” you finally admit, your voice barely more than a whisper.
“Me too,” he says softly, his thumb brushing gently across your skin. “I didn’t expect...any of this, but I’m glad it happened.”
Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, and you blink them away, not wanting to cry. “What happens now?”
He’s quiet for a moment, his eyes searching yours. “I don’t know. But I don’t want to lose what we have.”
You nod, understanding. “Neither do I.”
He leans in, pressing his forehead to yours. “We’ll figure it out.”
You close your eyes, breathing in his scent, memorizing the feel of him against you.
“We should get goin’, sweetheart.”
You nod, and you’re on the road again before you know it.
After driving in silence for a while, you and Joel stop for a pit stop.
You’re in a gas station buying a Diet Coke when Joel gets a call on his CB radio. Another trucker has broken down not far from here and needs a lift.
Perfect timing, too. Joel knows exactly what will cheer you up.
++++
You’re unsure why you're exiting the highway again, but you don’t ask questions. As you pull into a gravel lot with a rather plain-looking building in view, Joel turns to you with a mischievous glint in his eye.
“Got a surprise for you, Bambi.”
“A surprise?” you ask, curiosity piqued.
“Mhmm,” he hums, “C’mon, I’ll show you.”
He leads you across the lot, your hand in his, and your confusion only deepens when you see the sign for an adult video store.
You glance a him, eyebrows raised. “Joel, what are we doing here?”
“C’mon, you’ll see.” He takes your hand, guiding you inside. The store is dimly lit, shelves lined with tapes and various adult toys. He leads you to a room in the back, your heart pounding with anticipation and a touch of nervousness.
The room is bare for the most part, illuminated by a red light casting shadows on the walls. There’s a legit hole in the wall, the words Go For Glory etched above it. Your eyes widen. Is this…?
“What is this place?” you whisper.
He smiles, his eyes impossibly dark.
“It’s a place for fantasies, Bambi. Remember what you told me?”
Your breath catches. The memory of your conversation rushes back, and you realize what he’s offering. It’s unexpected and bold, but your trust in Joel makes you feel safe enough to explore it.
Joel steps closer, his hand gently cupping your cheek, looking at you in a way that makes you feel things you didn’t know you could.
“We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with, but if you want to try, I’ll be right here with you.”
You take a deep breath, the mix of fear and excitement bubbling up inside you. Your heart is beating out of your chest, and your stomach is alive with butterflies.
You nod slowly, a shy smile tugging at your lips. “I – I want to.”
“Atta girl,” he praises as he guides you closer to the wall, his hands steady and reassuring. You position yourself in front of the hole, suddenly frozen. You’re so fucking nervous out of nowhere.
He sees it etched on your face. He remembers what you told him about how you like being with someone who takes control. Someone who knows what they want and isn’t afraid to show it. Someone who you could trust. Trust them to take care of you, to know your needs even before you do.
So he gives it to you.
He takes a step forward and grabs your face, cupping your cheeks in his hands.
“You’re in control here, baby. You have your safe word. Use it and we stop, no questions asked. Okay?” he says, voice steady, reassuring.
You look up at him through your lashes and nod. “Okay.”
He kisses your forehead tenderly, his touch soft and comforting.
“Good. Now get on your knees.”
You do as he says, falling to the linoleum ground beneath you, your hands neatly placed on your knees, awaiting further instruction. He stands above you, palming himself through his jeans.
You want to reach out to help him, but he hasn’t told you to, so you don’t. You kneel and look up at him, arousal already pooling into your panties.
He undoes his belt buckle and zips his jeans down. The sound is almost deafening in the quiet room. He shifts his pants and boxers down to the ground, revealing himself. His hand wraps around his shaft, he leans down and spits, and begins to pump it, his eyes locked onto yours. The sight of him, fully hard and glistening, captivates you.
You can’t take your eyes off him, your mouth watering at the thought of what’s to come.
“Fuck, you’re pretty. Could probably come just from looking at you.”
“Please, please let me touch you,” you ask, the words coming out more like a plea than a request.
The room is cherry red, but you don’t miss the way his pupils dilate from your request.
“Rather see you touch him, first, sweetheart,” he rasps, voice throaty and low.
Using his free hand, he knocks on the wall. A few moments later, a large cock appears through the hole. It’s big. Not as big as Joel in girth, but a little longer. It has a prominent mushroom head that’s already red and weeping and several large veins visible from under the skin.
Fuck.
Your hand grips around it, your fingertips barely touching, and you begin to slide your hand up and down, the skin of it velvety soft. The man behind the wall lets out a groan that’s muffled by the drywall.
“Spit on it,” Joel commands, eyes on you, but still paying attention to his own cock.
You lean forward and do as he says, the cock now glistening with your saliva. It makes the skin move easier under your touch, and the cock hardens even more. The thumb slips over the bead of precum on the tip, and you work it into the skin.
“Go on, Bambi. Show him how good you are with that little mouth of yours.”
You start slow, wrapping your lips around just the tip to start. You can tell the man behind the wall wants more from the noises you hear. You wonder what he would be doing to you right now if he could actually touch you, what he looks like. He has a nice cock, you think he might be just as handsome.
You hum in delight as you sink down onto him more, letting your jaw relax so you can take him deeper, savoring the salty taste of his skin.
You see Joel fucking his hand out of the corner of your eye, getting off on you sucking another man’s cock. And god, you’re into it – the sounds are filthy, but your delighted little moans have Joel unraveling like a runaway spool of thread. You look up and over at him through your wet lashes and let out a little wink, an innocent act considering you’re practically milking a cock that isn’t his and having fun with it.
The man behind the wall knocks twice, and Joel tells you to stop, or you’re gonna make him cum.
“Have other plans for you, Bambi. Come here,” he says, helping you up off the floor. He starts to undo the button on your shorts and quickly pulls them, along with your panties, down and off. Your inner thighs are glistening with your arousal, and Joel groans at the sight. He steps forward and cups your whole sex, his thick middle finger sinking into your wet cunt easily. He adds a second and then a third.
“God, you’re fucking dripping, aren’t you?” He releases his finger and pops it into his mouth, savoring your taste.
“Yeah, I think she can take it,” he rasps. He turns you so your back is facing the hole, and he pushes you back so your ass is neatly aligned with the hole.
“Spread your legs, baby,” he says, nudging your foot with his, so you’re standing in a wide V shape for support. “Thas’ it, just like that.”
He stands a few feet away from you and tells you to bend over at your waist and hold on to his hips for support. His hands grab your forearms for additional support.
Your wet pusy is visible to the man on the other slide, slick glistening on your folds. Fuck, what he wouldn’t give to see what you look like, but he takes what he gets.
He steps forward and aligns his cock with the hole, and his tip nudges up against your entrance. You’re on the other side, holding on to Joel, your face nearly eye level with his cock. Your jaw goes slack when the man presses forward, burying half of him inside of you. He pauses for a second, giving you a moment to adjust, before he pulls back and then slams all of him inside of you.
He’s deep, not as deep as he could be if he could use your hips as leverage, but you feel the tip of him pressed up against your cervix.
He begins to fuck you in earnest, and you don’t dare move yourself away from the wall, pressing your ass back hard so he has as much access to your pussy as possible.
“How’s it feel, baby?” Joel asks, and you’re too cock drunk to string a full sentence together, mumbling so good in between your moans. With your other hole occupied, you put your free one to good use.
Still bent over and taking it hard from a man you’ve never seen in your life, you begin to suck Joel off. He holds you steady while you angle your mouth just right, taking his cock deep down your throat. You think you hear another knock, knock on the wall, and Joel confirms it when he tells you what’s gonna happen next.
“He’s gonna fill you up, okay, baby? And then you’re all mine,” he growls, his breath a little erratic from the way you’re working his cock. You’re so fucking into all of this it has him teetering on the edge of his release.
The man stalls his thrusts and presses forward one final time. You can feel him buried to the hilt inside of you and hear a deep groan through the wall. You feel the slight throb of his cock, and then he gingerly pulls out.
When he does, you gently rise to stand, feeling a little sore from your odd position. You bring your fingers to your pussy and gather some of the cum in your fingers, and run it through your swollen folds. Your fingers brush against your throbbing clit. You were so lost in the haze of your arousal that you didn’t even care that you didn’t get your own release. Although something tells you that Joel will make sure to take care of you.
“My turn,” Joel rasps.
He turns you around so you’re facing the wall, pressing you up against it. The coolness of the surface causes your nipples to stiffen. His hand trails down your side, over the swell of your ass, and then he brings his hand to your pussy, from the front, the skin coated in cum and your own release.
His fingers find your clit, and you whimper, the sensation overwhelming. He circles it slowly, expertly, sending shivers through your entire body. You press your forehead against the wall, your breath coming in short gasps as he continues his teasing touches.
“You like that?” he murmurs into your ear, his voice low and husky. You nod, unable to form words, your body responding to his every movement.
His fingers move with practiced precision, alternating between gentle circles and firmer pressure, building the tension inside you. Your hips begin to move instinctively, seeking more of his touch. He chuckles softly, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you.
“Does my perfect girl wanna come?” he asks, ghosting your clit with his fingers. He’s giving you just enough to be a tease, not enough to make you come. “Wanna hear you say it.”
“Yes, Joel, need to come so bad, please,” you moan.
Right as you’re about to orgasm, Joel stops, removing his fingers.
You gasp. So close.
“You’re gonna come on my cock,” he says, running the tip of him through your wet and sticky folds. He collects some of the cum from the man and uses it as lube as he presses into you, entering you in one thrust. You’re so aroused, so ready for it, but the intrusion still knocks the air from your lungs.
One hand on your hip, he uses it to angle you down and back onto his cock, thrusting up into you with equal force. His other hand returns to your pussy, and he quickly has you on the cusp of your orgasm like he did a minute ago.
He fucks you hard, barely leaving your wet, tight cunt before he’s thrusting up into you again.
He begins a relentless pace, thrusting his cock deep inside of you, the obscene sounds of the clapping noises spurs you on. He reangles your body, forcing you to arch your back against him. The new position lets him take you deeper, harder. Holding you against his chest, he snakes a free hand around, and his fingers find your clit once more. He makes soft circles on your clit, working you with each thrust until he once again has you climbing the ladder to your climax.
“Filthy fucking girl, coating me in another man's cum,” he rasps, voice low. “I can tell you like this, baby, letting us both use you, fill you up so good.”
You moan, your body trembling as he increases the pressure, pushing you closer to the edge. The combination of his skilled fingers and the rough texture of the wall against your sensitive skin is almost too much to bear.
“Joel,” you gasp, your voice barely above a whisper.
“I’ve got you,” he reassures, his fingers never faltering. The intensity builds, your whimpers turning into desperate cries as he drives you higher and higher.
“God you’re perfect,” he praises.
“You want my cum, baby? Gotta ask for it.”
You squirm and babble yes, yes, want your cum and he holds in place as you begin to unravel once more for him. Your hole contracts around him, your perky tits bouncing as he continues to fuck you through it. You’re so tight, your sweet sounds have his own orgasm not far off.
His hips slow, and he lets out a rough moan, spilling inside of you. He pauses there, and you feel him gently pulsate and twitch as your walls drain every last bit of cum inside him.
When he’s finished, he pulls out and steps back, kneeling down behind you. He looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire, and pulls your cheeks apart. You feel a flood of cum dribble out of you, a thick stream connecting from your pussy to the floor. You must look obscene right now.
Joel smacks your ass, and you let out a little yelp.
“Damn near got you bundled out (loaded to max capacity), don’t we?” He smirks as he says it, admiring the way the cum dribbles out of you.
He stands up, looking down at you with a satisfied smile. “You did a good job,” he says, his voice gentle and full of pride. “Are you okay?”
You nod, a warm feeling spreading through you at his words and the remnants of your orgasm. “I’m more than okay,” you reply, your voice steady and sure.
When you go to put your clothes back on, he tells you that he doesn’t want you to clean yourself up, that he wants to know you’re sitting in his truck, spilling out onto his seats, full of his cum and then some.
His lips ghosting yours, he whispers that you’re his before he kisses you.
You lean into him, your breath hitching at the possessiveness in his tone. It’s intoxicating, knowing how much he wants you, how much he’s willing to claim you as his own.
When you walk out of the building, you’re a fucked out mess. He opens the door to the truck and helps you up, his touch steadying you.
He pulls himself up into the driver's seat, and you start to buckle yourself in, but he gently stops you.
“Gotta move over, darlin’. Come sit near me,” he says, his voice warm, like he didn’t just absolutely wreck you 10 minutes ago.
You slide over, feeling the comfort of his presence. Just as you settle in, another man hops into the truck.
You blink in surprise, glancing at him. “Who are you?”
The man grins and extends a hand. “Hi sugar, I’m Tommy,” he says, his smile disarming.
“Tommy, as in Joel’s brother, Tommy?” you ask, glancing up at Joel.
Joel smirks.
“The one and only,” Tommy says.
“He’s the one whose cum is running down your thigh with mine, baby,” Joel winks, “wouldn’t trust anyone else to share ya with,” he says, and the engine rumbles to life.
One bad day doesn’t make your whole life bad.
As you cross the Texas state line, you let yourself believe it this time.
END
A/N Continued: I need them carnally. That is all. If you like this, please consider a reblogging or leaving a comment! Your feedback means a lot to me. Thank you for your support. Ily.
Tags: @syd-djarin @endlessthxxghts @thereaperisabitch @caramilena @promptly-mercy @alex-does-art-things @swankyorange @ayishahislost @bensonispunk @doblasftcisco @lizlil @pigeonmama @sullyselena @deansimpalagirl @theelectricmind @pedropascalsbbg @laramc-02 @elegantduckturtle @rainbow12346 @senoratess @eff4freddie @auteurdelabre @yxtkiwiyxt @javipispunk @reedrchards @miller-n-morgan @sawymredfox @casa-boiardi @punkshort @pastawench @survivingandenduring @puduvallee @@sheepdogchick3 @fallingforthirty @xdaddysprincessxx
Summary: you get caught in the rain on your way to Professor Miller’s house and your lesson gets derailed.
Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, fluff, big age gap (reader’s in her early 20s, Joel’s in his late 40s), insecure reader, soft!Joel, praise, f!oral, unprotected piv, belly bulge, use of a morning after pill, slight Professor kink, power imbalance. Joel can pick up reader, reader has hair. Pics are only for the mood, reader has no physical description.
Word count: 7,9k
A/n: this is for @undercoverpena ‘s April Showers Challenge. Big thank you to @milla-frenchy for beta-ing. Hope you all will enjoy it💖
Good Girl EXTRA || MASTERLIST || Read on AO3
You are rushing along an empty suburban street caught in a warm summer rain. Soaked strands of hair are sticking to your face and you brush them off, feeling your clothes getting wet too. Drops of water are trickling down your naked thighs as your skirt rides up and your shoes squelch with every hurried step.
The rain isn’t too heavy and you might have enjoyed it some other time but not now, not when you’re running late for your lesson at Professor Miller’s house. You could have waited it out under a tree but by the look of it, the pouring won’t stop soon.
You didn’t want to make Professor Miller wait. He is already doing you a huge favor, tutoring you a few hours a week in preparation for another year at college.
You decided to switch majors and, being a good friend of your mother, Professor Miller agreed to help you so you could catch up on what you had missed and get more confident in the new field.
Frankly you wouldn’t be late if you hadn’t been running circles in your room, trying to decide what to wear. Of course, you had a crush on Professor Miller. He was handsome, intelligent, nice and much older than you. But you’d never act on it because you couldn’t even imagine him looking at you like that. So you weren’t choosing anything to attract him that day. All you wanted was to look nice. You always wore formal clothing out of respect for him. One time you put on a band tee and a pair of ripped jeans for your lesson and felt terribly out of place next to the perfect Professor Miller. After that you swore to yourself to look presentable at his lessons.
You’re looking very far from presentable when Professor Miller opens the door to you now. Yet there’s not a trace of displeasure in his warm gaze.
“Oh, sweetheart, you’re soaked!” he exclaims, eyes widened behind his black-rimmed glasses.
“Forgot my umbrella, so sorry,” you mumble, stepping inside. You take off your wet shoes and put on the slippers you always wear in his house. Seeing that you’re dripping water on the floor, you silently curse.
As a striking contrast to you Professor Miller looks impeccable. Beautiful dark curls are combed back, a black sweater over a white dress shirt and black slacks make him look like he’s on a red carpet rather than in a suburban house on a Saturday.
He rushes away, mumbling something about towels, and you peek into the hall mirror to check the damage.
What you see makes you want to jump out of the window - your mascara is running, the hair’s wet and disheveled but what makes your heart drop to your stomach is your white blouse, soaked, stuck to your torso and completely see-through. Your chest is fully exposed except for your white lacy bra which isn’t much help either as you can definitely see your nipples.
Your hands dart to cover yourself but you don’t want to attract more attention to it, so you try to cross your arms over your breasts as casually as possible.
“Here.” You jerk, hearing Professor Miller’s beautiful voice and take a towel from him with a quiet ‘thank you.’
“Can I use the bathroom?” You ask, hugging the towel close to your chest.
“Of course, take your time. Join me in the office when you’re ready.”
You love Professor Miller’s guest bathroom. All of his house actually. It’s always neat and feels warm and cozy. Every piece of furniture seems thought through, the colors are rich but calming and you often find yourself wishing to stay here longer.
You clean your face up and dry yourself as well as you can. Your hair is still damp, but the skirt is not that wet. On the other hand your blouse still makes you wanna cry. At some point you contemplate asking Professor Miller for a spare shirt but this seems very inappropriate.
So you take a deep breath and decide that you can cover your almost exposed breasts with a book or something else.
You walk to the office and hastily join Professor Miller at his desk. A cup of hot tea is waiting for you next to a stack of books.
“Take a seat, sweetheart,” he says, patting the chair next to him and you plop down awkwardly, trying to hide your indecency. “Drink this. It’ll help you to get warm.” His gaze slides over you fast, not sticking to anything in particular, and you ease up a little.
He starts the lesson by checking your homework and explains your mistakes. You nod but hardly listen to him. So close to Professor Miller you feel disappointed in yourself, looking like an idiot who forgets to check the weather before leaving the house.
A light breeze hits your back and you shiver.
“Oh, I’ll close the window.” Professor Miller rushes to stand up, but you stop him with a hand on his arm. As if electrified by the feeling of his firm muscles under your touch, you dart your hand back, as your cheeks burn and you say,
“It’s ok. I love the sound of rain.”
“But you must be cold? Here, take my cardigan.” You object but he doesn’t listen, grabbing it off his chair and putting it over your shoulders.
“Thank you,” you breathe out, wrapping yourself in it as his scent envelops you. He smells of vanilla and cardamom and you can’t help but take a deep breath of him. He smiles, but you don’t notice it.
A couple of times during the lesson Professor Miller seems to lose his train of thought and you blame your look for it. He must be thinking that you look like a stray wet dog and your mood gets worse.
When he stands up to get a book from his home library you use the pause to apologize,
“I’m sorry again for looking like this. I should have waited the rain out but I was running late.”
He turns to you, standing at the wall full of books, and shakes his head, a warm smile on his handsome face,
“What are you talking about? You look great.”
“Ehm…I doubt it. I bet I’ve left a puddle in your hall like a wet dog.”
He chuckles, then grabs the necessary book and returns to the desk. He sits down and turns slightly towards you. His knee touches your naked thigh and you press your legs together, feeling the tingling between them. With a new wave of embarrassment overtaking you, you close the cardigan over your chest. He doesn’t look down but instead searches for your eyes.
“You look amazing, sweetheart, you always do. And I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. It’s just rain.”
The sun peeks through the clouds for a second, and when its golden rays fill the room, you notice how beautifully Professor Miller’s eyes sparkle behind the glasses when the light shines on them. It takes your breath away and you lower your gaze with a smile. His praise makes you feel warm and fuzzy and your heart sings at the sincerity in his voice.
“Thank you.” Your quiet words are barely audible because of the sound of the rain outside.
Professor Miller takes a deep sigh. “Sometimes when I look at you…I wish I was younger.”
Your jaw nearly hits the floor as you look up at him and stumble, “W- what… why? Really? Why?”
He chuckles. “Yeah, my back wouldn’t give me so much grief.”
You’re nodding with a fake smile, disappointed by his answer. He’d never look at you this way, in a different way. He’s perfect and you’re …well, you. He interrupts your self-deprecation saying softly, “Sweetheart, you worry too much. You, young people, don't understand how lucky you are. You have the whole life ahead of you, you’re free of regrets, sorrows. And the youth passes so quickly.”
You’re staring at him now, lips half parted, and then suddenly blurt out, “I am afraid. Almost all the time.”
“Of what? Why?” He asks, looking concerned.
“I don’t know. Of… everything.”
You turn slightly to him on the chair but quickly avert your gaze and stare back at the open window. The thrumming of the rain outside makes it easier to talk, as if it is accompanying your words.
“I’m afraid of my future. How wonderful it can be or how unhappy I might become. I study hard thinking …wishing the result will give me happiness but what if it doesn’t. I worry about my future career, but I’m not even sure I want it. I.. I don’t know what I want. I don’t know what I’m doing.”
You feel wetness coating your eyes and glance at him. He’s looking at you with intent, his brows slightly furrowed in thought.
You sniff, turning back to the desk, and stare at your fingers fumbling with the corner of Professor Miller’s cardigan.
“Sweetheart, no one knows what the fuck they’re doing.”
Your head whips up and you gawk at him with widened eyes. You’ve never heard him swear and never thought you ever would. He smiles, as if finding your reaction amusing.
“I might look all put together but I’m just like you. Scared, unsure… hell, we all are. No matter the age, I doubt it ever goes away,” he says placing his heavy hand on your shoulder, giving it a light squeeze, “But you can try to focus on the present, enjoy the moment, enjoy yourself.”
The sadness in your eyes makes him chuckle bitterly, “My intent was to help but it seems like I’ve done the opposite.”
“No, it’s fine. I appreciate you telling me this but I doubt I can do that.“
He watches you for a few moments and suddenly his face lights up and a charming lopsided smile twists his lips. You almost giggle at how mischievous and joyful he looks.
“I know what we should do.” He gets up and offers you his hand.
You look up at him confused but so much joy is radiating from him, you can’t say ‘no’. You take his hand and your whole body vibrates with skin on skin contact. You’re overwhelmed by his and your confession, by the unexpected turn your lesson took, and your heart is fluttering in your chest.
You follow him to the living room, your hand in his, and come up to the French windows which lead to the back yard. He lets go of your hand and you fix his cardigan that’s slipping off your shoulders.
Professor Miller opens the windows and a flow of humid slightly cold air rushes into the room and you wrap the cardigan tighter around your torso. The rain got heavier and you see little puddles on the patio.
He turns to you and says, louder than usual, so you could hear through the drumming of the shower.
“You know what I want to do now? What will make me happier?”
He starts walking backwards out to the wet patio and you open your mouth and giggle,
“Oh my god, Professor! What are you doing?”
He shoots you a wink and steps under the heavy rain. Then he tilts his head up, closing his eyes and exposing his face to the drops, falling from the sky.
“Please, come back inside!” You walk up to him, still standing under the cover of the roof. You place your hand on his shoulder and grab him lightly. “Come back inside, you’ll get cold. I’m not sad anymore, I promise.”
Just a few moments under the downpour are enough to drench him and when he looks at you, his glasses are all wet, curls are stuck to his forehead, his sweater is soaked.
“Do you like walking in the rain, sweetheart?”
“Well, sometimes yeah, I guess, but…”
“Great!”
With that, he grabs your hand on his shoulder and pulls you out onto the wet grass. You gasp, feeling the rain drops on your face and body again, your clothes and slippers getting wet slowly but surely. You try to get back inside but he quickly closes the windows and stands in front of you, not letting you through.
“Come on, sweetheart, enjoy this summer rain with me.”
“I will but maybe inside the house?” you plead, trying to cover your head with your hands.
“And where's the fun in that? C’mon,” he returns your pleading gaze with his own, placing his hands on your shoulders, “Let’s enjoy the moment. Do what you want. Don’t worry about the future. Live now.”
His hands leave your shoulders and he steps up closer, making you walk further from the cover of his house. Watching him prowl towards you like that, with a charming smile, his hands in the pockets of his slacks, sends a surge of arousal through your core and you feel yourself getting wet not only from the rain. You stop and he does too, an arm length from you.
You two are standing in the middle of the backyard, smiling at each other, while the heavy rain is soaking your clothes, drawing wet paths down your faces.
You follow his lead from a few moments ago, looking up and closing your eyes. You feel the drops caressing your skin, kissing your eyelids, nose, lips and then sliding down your neck. For a moment you let go of your fears and hopes that weigh on you rather than motivate you and just feel, taking a deep breath.
When you open your eyes a few moments later, there’s something different about the way Professor Miller is looking at you. His cheer is gone and he’s serious again but not in his usual ‘I’m a professor’ way. His gaze is focused on you, dark eyes tracing your features with quiet hunger.
“What would you like to do right now?” He asks you, tilting his head to the side. The answer comes to you like lightning and you act on it immediately.
You take a step, reach up and kiss him. It’s just a peck but you stay there for a few seconds pressing your wet lips to his.
He breathes in sharply against your mouth and the realization of what you’ve just done hits you like a freight train. You part from him and step back, your eyes filled with terror.
You’re staring at each other for a few long moments, only the sound of rain and your pounding heartbeat breaking the silence. You open your mouth to dump all possible apologies on your tutor but you have no time to do it because in the next moment Professor Miller kisses you.
One hand on your neck, the other on your arm he’s kissing you, keeping you close, but not grabbing you. You can stop it any second. You don’t. You revel in the feeling of his lips gently caressing yours. They taste like rain. His thumb is sliding along your jaw and your pussy aches with need. You’re cold from the rain but burning up inside for him at the same time. A shiver runs through your body and his lips leave yours.
“Let’s go back inside. You are freezing,” he whispers, pressing his forehead to yours. You curse your body for interrupting the most beautiful moment of your life but follow him when he takes your hand in his and leads you back into the house.
You’re dripping on his carpet in the living room until Professor Miller brings towels and you dry yourselves. He takes off his sweater and you swallow loudly when he rolls up the sleeves of his white shirt exposing his big forearms. His tousled wet curls take your breath away. One curl falls on his forehead and your heart hurts from how handsome he looks. He places his glasses on the coffee table and asks you,
“Would you like to change? I can give you my shirt. Or find something of Sarah.”
After discarding his soaked cardigan, you look down and see your sheer wet blouse sticking to your breasts but you don’t feel uncomfortable or embarrassed any more. You shake your head, wanting him to see you, all of you. The realization makes you gush and your pussy tingles, making you press your thighs together.
“God, you’re shivering, you can get sick,” he fusses over you and he’s right, you’re trembling all over, but not only because of the rain-drenched clothes. Your whole world is upside down. You shoved your crush on Professor Miller into the furthest corner of your heart, being scared of it. You were always good at limiting and controlling yourself, at making yourself feel less, not acting on your desires.
Until today.
Shaking legs bring you to the sofa and you sit down. He takes a blanket from the side of it and wraps you in it, rubbing your arms and back over the material, trying to warm you up.
He’s so close to you. You stare at his wet face, lashes stuck together, lips shining with the rain or your saliva or both.
It feels like a dream that you don’t want to end. His hands leave you and you look at each other. His gaze slides down to your lips and your heart flutters. You wonder if you have enough courage to kiss him again.
Suddenly you hear a loud thunder and jump in your seat. You look around and it’s like you finally woke up. Your heart freezes at the thought, ‘You kissed Professor Miller! You kissed your fucking tutor! Your mom’s friend! Fuck!’
Your head whips back to him. “I’m so sorry,” you mumble, trying not to burst into tears, your throat getting squeezed with embarrassment. “I…I don’t know why I’ve done it. I must have lost my mind. I’m sorry. Thank you for taking pity on me, Professor.”
His hand darts to your shoulder but he swiftly puts it away.
“First of all, call me Joel, please …and what do you mean by pity? I didn’t take pity on you. I acted inappropriately but… I wish you could see what I see when I look at you.”
You drop your head and murmur under your breath, “A complete mess?”
He sighs and takes your hand in his. His big warm palm engulfs it completely and you look up at him, not being able to contain yourself anymore, as tears well up in your eyes. His voice is warm and soft and so pleasant you wish he’d never stop talking.
“You’re a wonderful young woman. Intelligent, kind, capable of anything you’ll set your mind to. Your future is bright, I'm sure of it.”
You smile and tears roll down your cheeks.
“And you’re very beautiful. I hope someone tells you this.”
You sniff, eyes downcast, and shake your head, making your tears fall. Joel gently takes your chin between his fingers and tilts your head up so you would look at him. His face is blurry with all the wetness in your eyes. He cups your cheek and brushes a tear away with his thumb.
“Well, then let me do it. You’re the most beautiful woman I know.”
Your heart stops. At least you think so because what you’re hearing can not be real. You died and went to heaven otherwise it’s unbelievable that Professor Miller… Joel is telling you this.
You’re gawking at him and he chuckles before taking his hand away.
“I love that I can see all your emotions on your face.”
You hastily close your mouth and try to collect yourself while a whirlwind of feelings swirls in your stomach.
“And I don’t regret kissing you.”
You search his face for a sign of a joke, but find none. He looks and sounds serious and you feel yourself lean closer to him.
“Me neither, Joel,” you whisper, his name sweet on your tongue, and lean forward a little. It takes him a second to meet you halfway and kiss you. He takes the lead and moves his lips slowly and gently against yours but you feel that he’s holding himself down by the way he breathes, the way his lips move faster and with more vigor until he stops himself. You feel hot wrapped in the warm blanket so still glued to him you unwrap yourself and it pools at your feet.
“You’ll get cold,” he mumbles against your lips and you shake your head no, still kissing him. You don’t want it to end so you desperately cling to him with only your lips touching.
Another thunder shakes the house and you feel his hand on your naked knee. You part your legs and scoot closer to him and his thumb brushes your inner thigh. Your whole body erupts with chills.
“Sweetheart,” he whispers as his lips leave yours, “Your legs are ice cold.” He puts his hands on your arms, “And you’re still shivering, poor thing.”
You’re about to explain that it’s not because of the rain or wet clothes, at least not only. It’s him, his plush lips on yours, his warm hands gliding over your skin, his eyes looking at you so differently from what you’re used to. All of it makes every cell in your body vibrate, your stomach churn, your core burn with arousal.
But before you can tell him all that, he says something that makes you stop in your tracks, “Would you like to take a bath?”
For the hundredth time today you’re staring at him with your mouth agape.
“H-here? In your house?” you stumble, blinking at him.
“Yes. There's a nice tub upstairs in my bedroom.” He hears himself and hastily adds, “It’s not like that. Ehm… You can take it and I’ll wait for you here. I’m afraid you’ll get sick because of my carelessness.”
His beautiful brown eyes are pleading you to agree. You don’t want to leave him but your sodden cold clothes make the offer of a hot bath sound better with every second.
So you nod and he beams at you. In a second he’s walking upstairs and you’re trailing behind him, your hand in his. He leads you to his bedroom and you quickly look around, seeing that it’s perfect like the rest of his house, simple but cozy. You follow him to the en-suite bathroom and he starts the water. He explains to you how to make it colder and hotter like you’ve never seen a bathtub before but you don’t get offended or annoyed. He’s nervous, it’s visible and it makes you jittery too. Suddenly the idea of being alone without him makes you sad and your heart aches.
The tub fills up fast and while he’s telling you about the bath salts and towels you interrupt him,
“Can you stay?”
Now it’s his turn to gawk at you.
“When…until it’s full?” He asks and you shake your head.
“No, when I take it. Can you stay with me?”
He swallows loudly and takes a step closer to you.
“Sweetheart, I’ve crossed so many lines today. I’m not sure I can cross this one.”
“You told me to do what I want right? And I want you to stay with me, Joel,” you say louder, trying to feign confidence, before taking a step to him.
“Are you sure?”
You look deep into his eyes, so close that you can see your own reflection in them and reply,
“I'm not sure about anything in my life… but I'm sure that I want this,” you say, drawing an invisible line between your hearts with your finger, and add, “Really badly.”
His dark eyes are darting between yours as if he’s looking for a trace of doubt in them. He won’t find any. He’s reading your features and they probably tell him something because in the next moment he slowly leans to you. The kiss is soft but the more you taste him the more confident you get.
So you press your body to his and he groans when your lower belly touches his bulge. Your heart and pussy flutter when you realize how big and stiff he is. Is it because of you? A part of you can’t believe a man like him can be interested in you but his body can’t lie.
“Sweetheart,” he whispers, pulling away but, in an attempt to interrupt something you don’t want to hear, you raise your hands and start unbuttoning your wet blouse.
Joel’s eyes are glued to your fingers, working their way up your top. Soon your belly is revealed, then sternum and your breasts, covered by the bra. You slide the blouse off your body and it pools at your feet.
“You’re so beautiful,” Joel whispers, as his hand slowly lifts to your breast and he brushes your nipple through the thin lace of the bra with his thumb. It’s already perked up from all the kissing and the cold and you whimper, your body vibrating with desire at the slightest touch of his big hand.
You get impatient and take your skirt off too. You’re standing in front of him wearing nothing but a lace white set and Joel growls like a hungry wolf. You bite your lip, hearing the sound of his desire for you.
His gaze slides from your face to your breasts, belly, hips, legs and up to your face again. He seems to make a decision because soon he starts unbuttoning his shirt too.
“I’m going to hell,” he mumbles as the expanse of his chest is revealed to you and you salivate seeing his golden skin, soft belly, happy trail that leads down. Your clit twitches when he unzips his pants.
Soon his clothes join yours on the floor and he places his hands on your waist. You try not to look at the huge tent in his boxers but fail miserably. He smiles and pulls you into his arms and you hug his middle. He’s big and hot against your cold skin and your whole body erupts in goosebumps.
“Still shivering, poor thing, let’s get you into the hot water,” he whispers and his hands slide to your back. He searches for your eyes and after you look up and nod, he unclasps your bra and takes it off you.
His chest is heaving when his gaze moves down to your naked breasts but he doesn’t stop stripping you. With his fingers hooked in your panties, he waits for your permission and then slides them down. They fall on the floor around your feet and you step out of them.
His eyes are completely obsidian now and his hands dart to you but he stops himself.
“Could you help me?” You ask and turn around before offering him your hand. He takes it and you step into the full tub. The water feels scolding hot at first but all your senses are focused on Joel and you lower yourself into the hot water. Sitting in the middle of the tub you look at his bulge, which is at your eye level now.
“Join me, please,” you plead and he mumbles soft “yeah,” before pulling his boxers down. His cock springs free and your pussy buzzes with anticipation and fear because he’s really big and thick.
Joel gets in the water behind you, his legs bent at the knees by your sides. He puts his hands on your shoulders and pulls you to lie down against his chest.
You rest your back on his warm broad chest and he wraps his arms around your waist. You feel his cock twitch against your lower back and a quiet whimper escapes your lips, “Joel.”
He almost purrs hearing how you said his name. You feel his heart beating hard at your back. His body, so big and strong, envelops you, warms you up better than the hot water around you and you feel like it’s where you belong, in his arms, reveling in his warmth, his softness, ready to give him anything he’d wish for.
The ache in your pussy gets harder to ignore and you squirm between his legs. He takes a sharp breath and bucks his hips against your butt. You feel his lips at your temple as he plants a kiss there.
“You’re so hot,” he praises you as his hands slide up your body and he cups your breasts. He palms your pebbled nipples and you moan, pressing your thighs together.
Then you tilt your head to the side and back and look up at Joel. His face is twisted in pleasure, eyes blown, and he lowers his head and catches your lips with his. This kiss is different from the ones you’ve shared before. Craving, impatience in every stroke of his lips, every swipe of his tongue, and you drown in pleasure of his caress.
Suddenly it’s not enough for the both of you. Without saying a word to each other you sit up and turn around while he helps you shift in the tub with his hands on your waist. You’re facing him now, standing on your knees, and he takes in your wet naked body before whispering,
“Let me make you feel good, sweetheart.”
You breathe out a soft ‘ok’ and in a second he lifts you up and sets you on the edge of the tub in the corner. You lean your back against the cold tile wall and shiver. Joel notices your reaction and starts pouring the water over you so you’d warm up again.
When you say that you’re not cold, he stands on his knees in front of you, his hands planted on the edge of the tub by your sides. He cages you in between his broad torso and the wall and your pussy pulsates for him.
“Could you spread your legs for me, please?” he says, sitting down on his heels, as his chest is pressed to your knees.
You slowly do what he asked and your pussy blooms for him, folds opening up to his view and Joel’s breath hitches and he llicks his lips at the sight.
“Oh, my,” he mumbles and glances up at you, "You have the most gorgeous pussy, sweetheart." That word on his lips sends a fiery wave through every inch of your body and you whimper, when he moves into the space between your legs, spreading your thighs wider with his broad torso.
His plush lips parted, eyes blown and restless, he takes you in - his gaze hastily runs over your face, breast, belly, cunt as if he can't get enough of you. He reaches for your face and kisses you deeply and passionately. His hand brushes against your aching pussy and you moan.
"My sweet girl," he whispers against the corner of your mouth and his soft lips move down to your neck, collar bone, chest. He's swirling his tongue over your nipple, his hand kneading your breast while you are running your fingers through his damp curls.
Soon he gets to your pussy and when his hot lips touch you there you almost come against his mouth.
“You’re sweet all over, honey,” he mumbles against your twitching clit, hunching down. Then he grabs your ankle in the water and lifts your leg.
“Put your foot on the edge, yeah, like that, good girl.” You’re completely exposed to him now but your desire shuts all your insecurities and you ache to show him every inch of you without any shame.
Soon you’re moaning and writhing on the edge of the tub as his tongue is dancing over your clit before his lips close around it and he gently sucks on the bud, keeping your folds spread with his thick fingers.
You’ve never felt more euphoric in your life and he approvingly hums against your pussy, when you whisper his name again and again, alternating it with whimpers and soft ‘yeah’s’.
“Damn, I can come just from hearing you, honey. What are you doing to me?” He says, looking up at you from between your thighs, eyes glistening. He looks completely pussy-drunk and it must be taking everything from him not to spill his seed into the bath water right now.
You give him a little apologetic smile and he continues pleasuring you. Joel’s caresses are slow and gentle, he’s almost edging you but when you start moving your hips, searching for more friction, he reads your signal immediately.
“Need more, sweetheart?”
You nod eagerly and with his hands on your inner thighs he starts devouring your pussy, his growls full of lust. The flat of his tongue is rubbing against your clit, then the warm muscle plunges into your crying hole as his nose nudges your clit and soon you’re screaming, shaking with the hardest climax of your life.
Joel laps at your juices, generously dripping into his greedy mouth as you’re digging your fingers into his broad shoulders, clenching around his tongue when he slides it inside you.
“Yeah… like that. Oh, my good girl,” Joel mumbles, his words muffled by your pussy.
When your climax dissipates, you rest your head back against the wall and he stays between your legs, peppering kisses on your inner thighs. His palms glide up and down your legs as you’re catching your breath.
When you look down, your eyes well up with tears when you see this big, gorgeous, intelligent, hot man on his knees in front of you. A voice inside your head reminds you that he’s much older, your parents will kill you, you’re fucked. But you push all your fears away when he gently helps you get back in the water and sets you on his lap.
Straddling him, you look into his eyes. You’re feeling a myriad of emotions but the brightest one makes your heart sing - you finally feel like yourself, confident, free, happy.
“Thank you,” you whisper with a smile, grateful for the pleasure but also for the self assurance he gave you.
“Thank you, sweetheart.” He returns your smile with the warmest grin and pulls you into his embrace before kissing you. His big arms envelop your torso as you melt against his chest.
His cock twitches between your bodies and the fire in your core ignites with a new force.
“I want you inside,” you whisper, nuzzling his neck.
“Oh, darling… I wish for nothing more but … I’m afraid to hurt you.”
You sit up straight and drop your gaze into the water. His cock looks painfully hard and huge and you take a sharp breath, imagining it piercing you.
“I wanna try,” you say with confidence.
He searches for any doubt in your eyes again and then nods. Joel helps you to stand on your knees in the bath, holding you steady with his hand on your hip, the other holding his cock at the base.
“Start slowly and if it hurts… stop any second, ok?”
You agree, positioning yourself right above his waiting cock and begin lowering your hips.
You feel his hot tip bump into your clit and, feeling a burst of pleasure, you grind against it a few times. You both moan at the sensation and Joel tightens his grip on your body.
His handsome face twisted in pleasure might be the most beautiful thing you’ve seen. You don’t tear your eyes off him, wishing the image got sealed in your memory forever.
You shift a little, nudge your hole with his fat head and start sinking on his throbbing member.
He’s big. Really big.
You widen your eyes as his length parts your folds and slides inside you, surprisingly easily thanks to your recent orgasm.
Joel leans back against the tub and watches your pussy swallow him in the water, his brows furrowed, half-lidded eyes set on the place where you two are slowly joining.
You lower yourself further as your walls spread, trying to accommodate his member inside you. It hurts a little but you’re so aroused you hardly notice it.
Joel moans when you’re finally flush with him, his cock filling your wet heat perfectly.
“Fuck, ohhh, fuck… I’m sorry for all the cursing, honey, but your pussy feels fucking incredible.”
You smile at the praise and clench around him making him squeeze his eyes shut.
“You’re not a virgin, are you?” he asks with his eyes still closed.
You shake your head, but hastily add ‘no’, realizing he can’t see you.
“I’ve had a boyfriend. But he dumped me pretty quickly.”
He looks at you, brows furrowed, as he hears a slight sadness in your voice.
“His loss, sweetheart,” he says, gently taking your neck between his palms.
His gaze slides down your body to your pussy.
“Hnggg, you’re so tight.”
“Sorry. “
“What? No, it’s .. Gosh, I can’t think straight when you …look like this, wrapped around my cock. I’m in heaven.”
His warm hand rises to your face and he cups your heated cheek. You nuzzle into it smiling against his palm. Then you move your face a little and when you feel his thumb at your lips you part them and take it into your mouth.
His cock throbs deliciously inside you, and he moans as your tongue swirls over his thick finger.
“Oh my god, you naughty thing. You’re going to be the death of me.”
You smile around his finger and roll your hips a little. You both almost scream at the sensation. His thumb slips out of your open mouth as a wave of pleasure rushes through you. You seem to feel his cock everywhere. You can’t stop now, not with the way his thick length massages your pussy on the inside, sending bolts of ecstasy through your body.
You start fucking yourself on his stiff cock and you both fill the room with groans and whimpers, adding them to the soft splashing of the tub water.
He tilts his head back and squeezes his eyes shut while you feel another climax building.
“Oh, Professor,” you moan and he groans, clenching his teeth,
“Don’t.”
“What?” You ask and bite your lip, seeing that he’s deep in the pits of lust just like you are.
“Because I won’t let you stop calling me that,” he groans and your heart sings at the implication of you two doing it again in the future.
Not giving him any respite you breathe out, “It feels so good, Professor,” and start bouncing on his throbbing cock.
Joel moans but then holds you down.
“Baby, are you on the pill? I can’t… I’m gonna come soon.”
“No,” you reply through panting and he furrows his brows,
“Shit… not sure I have condoms,” he says, his eyes darting between yours. He clears his throat and adds, “I haven’t been with anyone for …some time now.”
You feel like he wants to apologize and you shut him up with a kiss.
“It’s ok. I’ll get Plan B. I want…want it inside me,” you whisper against his lips and sit up, starting to move again. You roll your hips, feeling your clit rub against his soft belly, and whimpers escape your parted lips again and again.
“Fuck, look at you,” he mumbles, watching your body slowly move on him. He’s almost drooling as his palm slides from your neck to your chest, over the swells of your breasts, brushing against your erect nipples, caressing the soft skin of your belly. He dips his hand in the water and presses it to a lump right over your mound and moans,
“Oh, fuck, I can feel my cock right here… do you feel me deep, baby? Tell me.”
“Yes, Professor,”
“Shit, I’m not gonna last, gonna fill you up.”
Looking down, you see it, the bulge in your belly moving up and down, his cock inside you stretching your skin.
With a loud moan, you clench around him and it sends a chain reaction making your pussy vibrate and contract, as another climax starts shaking your body.
“Yeah, baby, just like that… squeeze my fat cock, my good fucking girl.”
Not being able to hold any longer, Joel erupts inside your core, jets of cum spurting against your walls. You feel hot from the water and his heated body and now there’s warmth inside you too, your pussy’s getting filled with him.
You’re fucking yourself on his exploding cock while he’s sucking on your neck, and then he holds you so tight, it gets difficult to breathe. Every cell in your body is screaming with pleasure and you wish this moment never passed, he was inside you forever, holding you close.
When you both feel your climaxes subside, Joel leans back against the wall and pulls you to lie on his chest. You stay like this for a few minutes, plugged by his cock and full of his seed. You breathe in the scent of his skin, your hands on his chest as he rocks you like a big strong wave, slowly breathing in and out. You feel an immense affection towards him, and your throat gets squeezed with upcoming tears. You try to hide them from him but when you sniff he gently cups your cheek and makes you look at him.
“Are you hurt? Did I hurt you?” he asks, looking you over with worry in his gaze.
“No, I’m just… I’m just happy. I’m sorry.”
You smile at each other until he takes your face in his big hands and plants kisses on your eyes, cheeks, nose, chin, lips. You giggle when his facial hair tickles your delicate skin and he laughs with you.
Your bodies relaxed, hunger satiated, you stay in the bath for a few more minutes while he’s pouring water with his hands over your shoulders to keep you warm.
When the temperature lowers, he gets out of the tub and brings you a big fluffy towel while you shamelessly watch him move naked and wet around the bathroom. He helps you to get up and you bite your lip when his cock twitches at the sight of your body on display for him. He clears his throat and starts gently drying your skin. The memory takes you back to him drying you in his living room, before you crossed the line with him and you marvel how much changed between now and then.
You feel happy for the first time in a long time but also scared of what happens next. What if he goes back to being just your tutor, what if he doesn’t want to see you at all, what if your parents find out… The thoughts rush through your mind and he reads your face again and asks, “What is it, sweetheart?”
You shake your head, driving away your fears. Joel wraps you in the towel and you gasp when he lifts you. He laughs, carrying you to his bedroom, and then lowers you gently on the bed.
“Get under the duvet, sweetheart.”
You listen to him and get comfortable in his bed. The sheets smell of him and you can’t help but gush again. He brings your clothes and you sit up reaching for them so you could put them on but he stops you.
“Stay here. I’ll go get you the pill,” he says and makes you lie back down. After getting dressed in a black t-shirt and jeans, Joel tucks you in and kisses you gently before leaving.
You hear his car drive off and fall into the comfort of his bed. You close your eyes for a second suddenly feeling tired.
You wake up from soft kisses to your forehead, cheeks, lips.
“I hate to wake you up, honey, but your parents are worried.”
You sit up rubbing your eyes and holding the duvet over your naked breasts. You see the pill and a glass of water on the nightstand and take it.
“They called?” You ask, swallowing Plan B.
“Yes, I told them you needed to do some extra exercises.”
You giggle but he looks upset. Your fears come back again.
“You regret it,” you whisper, as your eyes well up with tears.
In a second you’re in his big arms and he whispers against your cheek,
“Never, baby. I don’t. But I can’t help but feel guilty. I should know better. I feel like I’m robbing you of your time. You should be someone young, someone who can give you more.”
You search for his eyes and take his face in your hands.
“No, I don’t want anyone else. I want… I need you.”
You kiss him and pull him to lie over you on the bed. You’re making out holding each other close. The rain has stopped and you can hear birds chirping outside through an open window.
“Fuck.. I need to go,” you whine, parting from Joel and reaching for your clothes at the foot of the bed.
“Language, young lady,” he scolds you with a smirk. You bite your lip and purr with a sultry tone, “Sorry, Professor.”
You love how this word makes him shiver with arousal now.
He adjusts himself, cursing under his breath and his dark eyes are watching you while you’re giving him a little show while putting on your clothes - gliding your hands over your body, slowly slipping into your panties and bra. When you slide your arms into your already dry blouse, he gets up to button it up for you. Soon your lips gravitate towards each other and it takes a lot from you to part from him again.
You go downstairs and Joel offers to drive you home but you politely refuse.
“I’ll walk. I love the smell of the air after rain,” you smile ready to leave, standing at the door, “besides someone told me to enjoy myself more so I’m gonna follow his advice.”
You smile at each other and he gives you a farewell kiss, hugging you, before whispering in your ear, “My sweet girl. Thank you.”
You look deeply into his eyes and ask,
“See you on Thursday?”
“Yes, but you’re going to study.” Your widened sad eyes make him chuckle as he adds, “Among other things.”
You beam at him, peck his lips and walk out of the door, feeling wings behind your back.
Summary: You meet a smuggler in the QZ and can't resist your attraction to him.
Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, a bit of fluff, unspecified age gap, Fedra soldier!reader, unprotected piv (wrap it up), creampie, mirror sex, degradation, rough sex, praise kink, size kink, reader really loves Joel’s arms (who doesn’t), manhandling, alcohol consumption, use of a morning after pill, mention of guns, mention of canon-typical violence. Reader has hair. Joel can pick her up. Pics are only for the mood, reader has no other specific physical descriptions.
A/n: this is written for PPCU Body Worship writing challenge, created by talented, sweet and beautiful @joelmillerisapunk 💖 I got ‘Arms’ and immediately thought of meaty, beefy QZ Joel. Smooches to my lovely beta @milla-frenchy 😘 Dividers by @saradika-graphics 💕 Love y’all! Hope you will like the story!❤️
MASTERLIST
“Let’s go.”
“Sure you need me there? It’s your deal, Ronnie. And you know you’re armed, right? Why do I always have to hold your hand?” you complain, while your eyes are scanning the crowd at a public hanging for any sign of disturbance. It’s not your favorite task but Fedra sends enough soldiers here to keep things under control so it usually goes smoothly. That’s probably why your friend Ronnie arranged a deal right in the middle of your shift.
“I’m nervous, ok,” he admits, glancing at you, “The dude’s fucking scary. Never worked with him before. But I’ve heard stuff. You’re just gonna stand there, that’s all. Don’t need to talk.”
You’ve known Ronnie since you were teens in a Fedra camp. Now both officers, you are still inseparable, though at this moment you’d prefer to be as far away from him as you could because in case you two get caught, you both will be a spectacle of the next hanging. Ronnie’s pleading eyes always work on you and the little weasel knows it well so you curse and follow him to the place of the meetup.
As soon as you see the smuggler, standing in a secluded spot far away from the prying eye, your heart starts beating faster. And not because he scares you. Yes, he’s huge and looks very unfriendly, thanks to his furrowed brows and the closed off stance which actually happens to be the culprit of your unexpected reaction. His pose accentuates the beauty of his arms as he’s crossing them in front of his chest. It’s a threatening sight, same as his gaze, but like a moth to a flame, you’re pulled to the man immediately. All thoughts in your head are replaced with only one - he’s fucking hot.
Ronnie slowly comes up to the man, feigning confidence.
“Who the fuck is this?” the smuggler asks, nodding at you with his chin.
“Just a friend. Don’t worry, Joel.”
“I ain’t the one to worry here, kid,” he gruffs, uncrossing his arms as his fists clench in a threatening gesture and you can sense the waves of panic, coming from your friend. “I prefer to do these things one on one. Don’t need an audience. Ya got me?”
“Yeah, ‘k. Next time I’ll be alone.”
“Hope so.”
Joel looks you up and down and you suddenly feel too hot. Standing a step further from him than Ronnie and not saying anything, you’re ogling the man with hungry eyes. Joel seems to relax and the men finally exchange the goods— pills for your friend and ration cards for the smuggler. They’re talking about the product, scheduling the next deal, and you should be on the lookout, should be attentive to the surroundings, like you always are, but your mind, as well as other parts, is fully focused on the stranger.
Joel’s hairy forearms are thick and strong and every little move makes his muscles flex and bulge out of his rolled up sleeves of the denim shirt. His shoulders are broad and the fabric, containing them, is strained to the limit. You’ve never been a biter in bed but suddenly you want to sink your teeth into his arms, lick them all over, glide your hands over the vast expense of his skin, grab them and feel them tighten around your body, encompassing you fully, while his cock stretches…
“Hey!” Ronnie exclaims, interrupting your horny daydreams, pulling on your sleeve and you blink at him, trying to shake away the visions of the man, doing filthy things to you.
“Let’s go!” he says for what appears not the first time, and you smile awkwardly, noticing Joel’s smirk. His arms are crossed again, but now he’s looking at you with a twinkle of curiosity in his piercing eyes, his heavy gaze lightened up.
You take a step away, following your friend, but Joel stops you.
“Sweetheart, wait!”
The pet name hits you right in the pussy and you pause and turn back, confused by why he’s calling you.
“C’mere,” the man motions for you to return to him with a shake of his head, his bear hands shoved in the jeans pockets.
“We’re in a hurry, man,” Ronnie frowns, thinking he’s coming to your rescue, but you turn to him and say,
“It’s ok. Wait for me over there.”
You have no idea what Joel wants from you, but you’re eager to find out. Not hiding his anxiety, your friend takes a few steps away from you and stands at the gate, glancing in your direction from time to time while his hand is resting on his gun.
“Yes? Joel, right?” You ask, coming up to the smuggler and using every last drop of your will not to leer at his mighty arms again.
“Yeah. What’s your name?”
You reply with a little smile and see a smirk tug at his plush lips when he asks, “Like what you see?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve been starin' at me like at a piece of meat. No use denyin' it."
You avert your eyes, chewing on your lip. You probably should be embarrassed to be caught ogling the man, but life in this miserable world taught you to take what you want whenever you can. Especially if it's being handed to you.
"I'm not." You look back at Joel with defiance in your gaze. "I think you're hot."
Joel’s chest expands when he takes a deep breath, the shirt’s buttons hanging for dear life. His piercing eyes turn a shade darker as he asks,
"Wanna do somethin' about it?"
Your heart rate increases and the warmth of arousal between your thighs makes you shift on your feet.
"What are you suggesting?"
"Come over to my place tonight. Around 8. Ask your friend for the address. He knows."
You don't reply for a few seconds, making it seem like you're thinking about your answer, although your pussy has been aching since the moment you saw the smuggler so there's no way you're going to reject his invitation.
"'K", you reply, feigning nonchalance, while excitement is twisting your stomach.
“What?! Are you out of your mind? You're gonna see him?” Ronnie hisses at you, as you two are walking back to the square. “He’s dangerous! Do you realize that? He’s huge! Have you seen his arms?”
“Oh, I’ve seen his arms alright,” you reply with a dreamy smile, sensing butterflies in your belly.
“Fuck, you’re so stupid when you’re horny. If I find you tomorrow dead in a ditch, I’ll tell your lifeless face ‘I told you so!’”
“Jesus, man,” You giggle, playfully punching Ronnie’s shoulder. “I’ll be ok. I promise.”
The night can’t come soon enough. Still wearing your uniform, you rush to meet the man who's been occupying your mind all day. When Joel opens the door to you, you swallow loudly seeing him in the same denim shirt and dark blue jeans. You’ve been dreaming of his huge arms around your body, so your panties are completely soaked, and having had no time to change after your shift, you hope to slide them off as fast as possible.
“Hi,” you greet the man, stepping into his apartment.
“Howdy.”Joel closes the door and stands next to you, while his gaze is sliding up and down your body. You look around the apartment, getting a whiff of his scent— sweat with a subtle trace of whiskey.
“Are you from Texas originally?” You ask, glancing up at him, slightly intoxicated by his closeness.
“Yeah. Want a drink?”
He walks to the living area and you follow before leaving your guns at the door.
“What do you have?”
“Whiskey, vodka…water.”
“Vodka’s fine,” you reply, stepping up to a worn out couch and sitting down.
“Oh, are you a vodka girl?”
“I’m a ‘whatever burns’ girl, but vodka works faster on me,” you smile and Joel smirks, crossing his arms again. You swallow loudly, seeing his sexy tan forearms in the golden light of the setting sun. Fuck, you wanna touch them.
“Why d’ya need it to work fast? Doesn’t seem like you need any liquid courage.”
“Really?”
Joel goes to the kitchen and in a few seconds returns with a half empty Smirnoff bottle and two shot glasses. He plops next to you on the couch with a grunt and pours out the alcohol.
You drink yours in one go and Joel follows. The vodka burns and calms you down a little. Joel clears his throat before he speaks,
“This morning your friend was shaking like a leaf. And you… You were practically undressing me with your eyes, sweetheart.”
You smile and drop your gaze down to your lap.
“Well, Ronnie is a nervous guy and I’m …”
“A needy little slut?”
You shoot your eyes up at him and see a smug smile, tugging at his lips, as he awaits your reaction. You should probably feel offended or angry, but instead your core burns brighter at his degrading comment and your pussy flutters, as if proving him right.
He reads your reaction immediately.
“Oh you like that, huh?”
“What?”
“When I call you a slut.”
“I don’t mind,” you mumble while your mind is shutting down with every dirty word he throws at you.
“Yeah, you looked like a thirsty whore this morning. And I see that nothing’s changed.”
You’re barely breathing at this point, as waves of arousal ripple through your body, making you squirm in your seat.
“I…I just really like your arms.” Your gaze shamelessly slides over his body, so big and powerful.
“My arms?” Joel’s brows shoot up and he turns his head to look at his arm, resting on the back of the couch, as if trying to understand your attraction.
“Yeah,” you nod slowly, ogling the muscles straining his sleeve.
“Wanna touch ‘em, baby?”
“Yes, please”.
“So polite. Wanna call you a good girl but we already know that you prefer ‘a slut’.”
Joel chuckles and narrows his eyes, watching you for a few seconds, while you’re melting under his lustful gaze, sinking in the sticky pit of desire. Through the fog in your head you hear his voice, low but still powerful.
“How about we skip the pleasantries then and get to the thing you came for.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m gonna fuck you. And let you touch my arms.”
Your breath hitches and your body tingles all over. You can’t agree fast enough.
“Yeah, ok.”
“Do you always say ‘yes’ to everything, little slut?” he smirks, playing with you like a cat with a mouse.
You try to come up with a witty response but your mind is clouded with lust so you just shake your head with probably the dumbest look ever.
“Can I use your bathroom?” You mumble and when he points you in its direction, swiftly walk there.
You close the door in the little room and check your face in the mirror. It’s the same as every day except for your glossy eyes. You rinse your face, trying to come to your senses, look a little less horny but it’s all in vain. The desire overtook your body completely so you dry yourself and leave the room.
When you return to Joel, you find him on the couch in the same spot and in the same position. Only now he’s completely naked.
A shiver goes down your spine from a new surge of arousal, tightening your core.
You barely hear him, your mind is fully occupied by the image of this gorgeous, huge man, waiting to fuck you. Everything about him makes your pussy beat with the rhythm of your heart - his soft belly, his long, girthy, slightly curved semi hard cock, resting on his thick thigh, his broad hairy chest and muscular arms. Seeing them without the confines of the clothes completely shuts off your brain and you take a step towards him, mesmerized by his muscles, wishing to feel them already.
“Take your clothes off, baby.”
You hardly hear him, taking in every inch of his body.
“Girl! Undress. Fuckin’ hell,” Joel groans and you shake your head, waking up from a horny trance, and start discarding your clothes hastily, piece by piece while his dark gaze is set on you. You should be more graceful and seductive taking them off, but your aching pussy makes your movements rushed and determined. When you’re completely naked, except for your panties, you hook your thumbs into the waistband of the last piece of clothing, but Joel stops you.
He gets up and walks to you, his big cock in his veiny hand.
“Wanna do it myself,” he mumbles and stands next to you, at your side, so close that you feel his warm breath on your cheek and breasts, his naked chest brushing against your shoulder, his manhood poking your thigh.
“Pretty little thing,” he whispers, taking in your body, while his hand slides down your back, leaving chills in its wake. You raise your big eyes at him, your lips parted. “Pity you get so dumb though,” he chuckles and lightly squeezes your asscheek. His hand stays there while the other one cups your breast and grazes your nipple with his calloused thumb, making it stiff. You moan and he groans.
Joel’s palm on your ass moves lower, and reaches your pussy, covered by the wet panties. He slips his finger between your asscheeks and rubs your drippping hole over the gusset. You softly whimper and he plants a light kiss on your cheek, stroking your folds over the fabric.
“She’s been crying for me all day, huh?” he mumbles, placing his large warm hand on your belly, the other one still caressing your cunt. “Pussy so needy she shut down your whole little brain. Yeah, baby?”
All you can do is nod, your senses fully focused on the way his thick fingers are rubbing your aching cunt over the underwear.
“She must be cold, sweetheart, being in a pair of wet panties all day like that?” He coos at you.
“Yeah”, you reply, barely breathing, already feeling your orgasm build because of his light touches. “Didn’t have time to change. I have a sexy pair at home.”
Joel breathes out a chuckle, “I bet you do, little slut. Would love to see ‘em too one day.”
The only response you can give is a mewl.
He steps in front of you, his hand leaving your pussy, and you whine. Joel tsks at you and pinches your chin with his fingers to lift your face to his.
“Oh, my pretty bimbo, already cock drunk,” he laughs, locking eyes with you.
Joel’s so huge, you should probably be scared, but all you feel is a pathetic need to be completely destroyed by him.
“Lights are on but…fuck, you’re gone,” he mocks you, looking into your hazy blown out eyes.
“Listen to me,” he commands, as his fingers slightly shake your head, getting your attention. “How do you want it? Gentle or rough, sweetheart?”
“Rough,” you croak back without any hesitation.
“Good. Then do what I say and we gonna have a great time, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Good little slut.”
Your breaths are short and fast as you’re blinking, starting at him like a mindless fuck doll. Suddenly, you gasp when he grabs the back of your thighs with his massive hands and lifts you, throwing your legs around his waist. You grab onto his broad shoulders and he carries you away from the couch and to the bedroom.
He drops you on the bed, old and stiff, but you don’t care. You have no time or ability to think about anything, because as soon as you’re on your back, Joel pins you to the lumpy mattress with his heavy torso and kisses you. He’s not asking for a kiss, he’s taking it but you willingly open your mouth, welcoming his hot tongue. A happy moan escapes your mouth, when you finally glide your palms over his huge arms. He slides your panties off and cups your pussy with his huge warm palm.
“Messy whore,” he mumbles against your mouth.
Joel’s assertive, passionate and as horny as you are, and you smile against his lips, enjoying his desire for you.
He begins peppering kisses along your jaw, your neck, leaving hickeys on his way to your breasts.
You whimper when his mouth finds your nipple and gasp when he nips at it. He licks the pain away and starts sucking on it while his hands are roaming your heated body.
You grab onto his shoulders and shift your hips under his arm. Joel’s slurping and growling, caressing your breast with his lips and tongue, but you crave more so you start grinding your wet pulsating pussy against his arm. Your movements immediately send you to the precipice of your climax. His muscles flex as you rub your clit against them, smearing your slick over his tan skin, and Joel parts from your tit for a few seconds to watch you use his arm to get yourself off.
“Look at this sloppy little pussy. Gonna need a shower after this. Or…,” he smirks and gets back to suckling your other breast.
Each motion of his muscles is helping you to come as you’re dragging your pussy up and down his heavy limb. Soon you throw your head back, dipping it into the pillow when a hard climax hits you and your cunt contracts around nothing, as euphoria is coursing through your veins, taking away the last of your clear thinking.
“That’s it— take it, slut— come for me — jus’ like that,” Joel mumbles against your trembling chest but you hardly hear him, so deep in the ocean of desire, all sounds around you are muffled.
The next thing you feel is his hands grabbing your shoulders and lifting you. Joel makes you sit up and wraps his heavy hand around the back of your neck.
“Look what you’ve done, messy girl.”
He nods at his arm, glistening with your cum and slick and then growls, “Lick it clean.”
With a hazy smile you sit on your heels, getting comfortable. Then you take his arm between your hands and reach for it. Your tongue slides over his hot wet skin and you flutter your eyes shut, reveling in the sensations of his firm muscles under your tongue and the earthy taste of your juices.
“Attagirl,” Joel praises you and slightly squeezes the back of your neck to make you move your head lower and lap up all the mess you’ve left on his skin.
When you finish, Joel lifts your head and sees you staring at his throbbing cock with empty but hungry eyes. It’s leaking precum generously and you almost drool looking at it. You should probably be nervous to take his huge length but all you feel is feral lust.
Placing his palm under your jaw, Joel tilts your head up and searches for your eyes.
“Damn, lookin’ so dumb right now. Lucky you remember how to breathe, little whore.”
He laughs at you and grabs your face, as his fingers dig into your cheeks, making your lips pout.
You whine and he pulls you into his chest. You hug him as if afraid to float away and he gives you a few moments of rest while you are panting, snuggling into his embrace after the shuddering orgasm.
Then he lifts your chin and locks eyes with you. Your breath hitches as you’re struck by his handsome face, which leans down and he kisses you again, gently and slowly, wrapping you tighter in his embrace. Then he asks,
“Why do you like my arms so much?”
You blink a few times, trying really hard to understand the question, drunk on his taste and the way he’s holding you, but when the meaning finally reaches your brain, you stumble over your words.
“I… they… jus’ so big. And … fuck, very hot.”
You feel his broad chest shake with a quiet laugh. “Ready for my cock, baby?” You nod your head with a soft mewl.
“Wanna watch my arms when I’m railing you?”
“Yeah, yes, please.”
Joel hums and gets up before manhandling you off the bed and leading you to a wardrobe. He’s holding you under your arms, noticing that your weak legs are barely able to move, still tingling after your orgasm. He places you like a fuck doll in front the wardrobe door with a mirror and stands behind you. He’s so big and broad that you can see his shoulders and arms perfectly in the reflection. Your gaze glides over your own naked body, and you notice a path of hickeys along your neck and breasts and your core ignites again at the sight of his passion. Then you look at Joel, his eyes are obsidian, the expression is carnal and hungry, and you moan, feeling his cock slap your lower back.
His gaze drops down before he pushes your legs aside with his knee, his thick fingers dig into your hips and he pulls your ass, making you stick it out. Trying to steady yourself, you brace your hands on the mirror in front of you, but he grumbles,
“Not the mirror, stupid. You’ll break it, cut yourself.”
You swiftly move your hands further apart onto the wooden surface.
“Sexy but so dumb,” he mumbles as his eyes return to your ass and his cock. You watch his face, serious and concentrated, and sense his tip prod your sopping hole.
“Fuck,” he curses and pushes his cock deeper, slightly bending his knees to insert it into your tight pussy easier.
You push your ass out more for him, already whimpering like a whore, as you feel your walls slowly part to accommodate his stiff cock. It stings but you welcome the sensation of his manhood spreading your pussy until he bottoms out and you both moan at the sensation.
“Ahh— she feels amazing, baby,” he grunts and you smile dumbly at his reflection in the mirror.
“Such a sloppy cunt,” he murmurs, starting to plunge his length in and out of you with a fast rhythm, “oh, yeah — yeah — yeah—.”
His fat cock is massaging your walls deliciously, kissing your cervix with every deep thrust and you mewl with pleasure and scratch the wooden surface of the wardrobe with your nails.
“Naughty kitten. Tess will kill you if you leave marks on her furniture,” Joel chuckles through heavy panting, squeezing your hips and watching your cunt swallow his glistening cock.
“Who’s Tess?” You ask, not really giving a fuck and he doesn’t reply.
Instead he grants you your biggest wish - he pulls you flush to his chest and wraps his arms around your torso from behind. Your hands immediately fly to grab onto his strong limbs. Joel’s right arm is under your breasts, slightly pushing them up. The other one is keeping you in place, pressed to your chest, between your tits, his giant hand on your throat. His thick fingers curl around your neck but he doesn’t squeeze it, just holds you close against his broad torso.
The sensation and the vision of his powerful muscular arms bonding you to him like that, make your pussy contract and Joel growls in your ear, his breath hot and wet,
“Squeezing me already? Fuck, you’re easy.”
You whine and Joel nibbles on your ear lobe and rasps,
“Hold tight, baby, it’s gonna be a wild ride.”
As soon as the words reach your ear, he begins rolling his hips and dragging his cock in and out of your tight pussy, hard and fast.
You grab onto his bulging muscles better, and as he’s increasing the pace, you’re scratching him with your nails, leaving white marks on his golden skin and whimpering.
“Yeah, take it, dumb little whore. Gonna fuck the last of your brain out of your pretty head.”
Your breasts bounce while he’s fucking you and you bite your puffy lips, trying to muffle your moans, but Joel commands against yout ear,
“Want you to be loud, baby. C’mon. Let them all hear how good im fuckin’ ya.”
You would do anything he told you this moment so your lips part and you let your pleasured noises out, as they mix with the sound of skin rhythmically slapping against skin and his animalistic groans.
Reveling in the sensation of Joel, pounding your crying cunt, you let your hands wander all over his forearms and shoulders, squeezing and scratching them slightly, wishing to memorize the feeling of their strength under your hungry touch. Your vision is shaking with every mighty thrust of his hips but you’re watching the reflection of you two closely, drowning in the image of this tall broad man using you like a mindless fuck doll, caging you in his powerful arms and tears well up in your eyes at how amazing it feels. Your mind and body are focused on this pleasure, suffering and worries of the reality are gone and the drops of pure happiness spill and fall on his arms.
Joel notices you crying and stops fucking you, swiftly pulling out and turning you around.
“What is it, baby? Did I hurt ya?”
His dark eyes, a second ago filled with carnal desire now worried and concerned, dart all over your face and body, searching for the reason of your tears.
You grab onto him and shake your head,
“No, no, i’m fine — feels so good - you feel so good, Joel.”
“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart,” he breathes out, pulling you into his bear hug and rubbing your back with his warm hands.
“Please keep fucking me,” you mumble against his hairy chest and he barks a laugh before throwing you back on the bed, making you squeal with excitement.
Joel lies down and manhandles you to straddle him.
“Sit on my cock, little slut,” he commands, eyes darting between yours, reading your reaction.
“Yes, yes,” you mumble, wrapping your hand around his hot hard cock and lifting your hips, hovering over it. You don’t make him wait and immediately sink down on his weeping manhood, as your mouth falls open and your head tilts back.
Joel’s hands are holding your hips when you start riding him, and then snake up to your breasts to knead them, pinch and twist your pebbled nipples.
You run your fingers over his forearms from the elbows to his wrists and grab his hand, intertwining your fingers. Not pausing your lustful dance on his cock, you gently kiss his palm, his hand, then your lips glide down, leaving open mouth kisses over his wrist, the underside of his forearm and his elbow, darting your tongue out and tasting his salty skin. You lean forward, your nipples brushing his chest, and kiss his biceps, using your tongue, and Joel moans, watching you practically make out with his arm.
“Fuck, you’re hot, baby,” he groans while you’re lapping at his skin with your eyes shut. You’re softly whimpering at the sensation of his body, big and strong under you, his cock caressing your walls, making your pussy flutter around it, pushing you closer and closer to your second climax.
“Shit,” Joel curses, pulls your head off his arm and kisses you, while hugging your torso with his python-like grip. He’s holding you tight and you whine, not being able to move your hips and chase your orgasm. Sensing your impatience, Joel plants his feet on the bed and begins jackhammering his fat cock into your slicked up pussy, giving it to you rough and fast, not sparing your little hole.
You’re moaning against his scruffy cheek, your body shaking with his feral thrusts but Joel’s iron hold is keeping you in place.
“Usin’ you like a fuck doll you’re, yeah? Brainless little slut. Made just to make my cock happy. Perfect for me.”
His filthy words, leaving his mouth through gritted teeth, are barely audible because of the loud slapping of his body against yours and the squeaking of the old bed.
“Joellll…,” you moan, and after a few more thrusts explode on his thumping cock, caged by his strong arms, sobbing with heavenly pleasure flooding every inch of your body.
“Hnggg—shit—can I come inside?” You hear a gruff roar in your ear and with Joel fucking your brains out right this moment, you breathe out, “yeah, oh, yeah.” You crave to be full of him, drip him for days after, getting turned on just from the memory of him. As soon as you agree, Joel starts spurting his hot cum into your pulsating cunt, filling you up, emptying his balls into you.
You’re lying still, nuzzling his neck and taking everything he’s giving you, milking his cock to the last drop with your contracting walls.
Gradually intense ecstasy morphs into a pleasant satisfaction and you both bask in the afterglow of your orgasms. You feel almost high on endorphins, not used to such an amount of happiness in your veins, in your life.
Joel softens his embrace but still holds you, letting you rest and you almost doze off, lulled by his warm chest rocking you up and down like a giant wave.
“Don’t sleep yet, ya need to take a pill,” he gently shakes you, sleep heavy in his own voice.
“Oh, yeah…fuck, you came inside,” you murmur, blinking at him, as your mind fog slowly clears up.
“I have a Plan B, don’t worry.”
He moves you off him and lays you down on the bed, then gets up, making the bed squeak.
You can’t move your limbs even if you tried to so you’re lying there, feeling his warmth between your legs, kisses of the afterglow all over your heated skin and smile lazily when he returns to the bed with a glass of water.
“Look at you, as cock dumb as they get, huh?”
He plops down next to you and hands you the pill.
You sit up with a tired smile, swallow the pill and chase it with a few sips of water.
“Good girl,” Joel takes the glass from you and shakes his head when you murmur that you need to go.
“No way. Sleep here. They'll hang your ass if they catch you out and about at this hour.”
You turn your head to the window, just noticing that it’s completely dark outside, only the street lamps illuminate the room with a yellow light.
“Aww, you care about me, Joel? Don’t fall in love,” you giggle but your heart flutters as you look up at the man, so handsome and huge, looming over you.
“I’ll try,” he deadpans and shakes his hand, motioning you to scooch.
You shift to the other side of the bed and he lies down on his back with a grunt. You’re still sitting up, shamelessly admiring his naked body.
“Quit starin’,” he mumbles with eyes closed and pulls you down onto his chest.
You’re lying on his shoulder for a few moments and then whisper,
“Can you big spoon me?”
“Jesus…,” he sighs but turns on his side, scooping you in his embrace and you smile, closing your eyes as your hands gravitate to his arms, heavy and secure around you. You press your back into his warm chest and fall into a deep and peaceful sleep.
Thank you for reading! Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed the fic!💖🌸
In the past, I have lost track of stories; hence, the creation of these posts, which contain lists of stories from fandoms that I love. These lists include masterlists, one-shots, and series that I am reading, have read, or plan to read. If this helps you out too, I'm happy to hear that!
* These lists do not include the summaries of the stories. If you wish to see that, please go to the series to see what the authors have provided!
J.M. - Masterlists
Joel Miller Masterlist By: @justagalwhowrite
Joel Miller Masterlist By: @cavillscurls
Joel Miller Masterlist By: @eupheme
morning-star-joy Joel Miller Masterlist By: @morning-star-joy
Pedro Pascal Masterlist By: @savemefromanepicoftimewasted
Masterlist By: @heartpascal
Joel Miller Recommendation Masterlist By: @outoftheseine
Last of Us Masterlist By: @hottpinkpenguin
TLOU Masterlist By: @loganlermanstanaccount
Joel Miller - Masterlist By: @forever-rogue
Pedro Masterlist By: @creedslove
Joel Miller Fics Masterlist By: @atomicladytimetravel
masterlist By: @sl-ut
masterlist By: @rogueonestan
Joel Miller By: @darkroastjoel
Fanfiction Hall Of Fame [May List of 2023] By: @picklejar-hall-of-fame
Masterlist By: @sp00kymulderr
navigation By: @breakfastatjoels
Joel Miller Masterlist By: @thetriumphantpanda
Masterlist By: @stylesispunk
Joel Miller Masterlist By: guess-my-next-@obsession
Masterlist By: @macfrog
Masterlist By: @bluebeary-jay
Masterlist By: @punkshort
Pre & Post Outbreak Masterlist By: @Tightjeansjavi
J.M. - Series
Just Too Good To Be Gone Masterlist By: @something-tofightfor
Uneven Odds — Series Masterlist By: @theetherealbloom
To Hell and Back l J. Miller Miniseries Masterlist By: @darkroastjoel
a stranger's heart without a home masterlist By: @morning-star-joy
Friendly Fire By: @the-ginger-hedge-witch
The Stable Girl Masterlist By: @guess-my-next-obsession
Twenty Years Later - Joel Miller By: @yelena-bellova
cruel summer By: @proxima-writes
That's a Real Fucking Legacy: Masterlist By: @wyn-n-tonic
The Teacher | series masterlist By: @jwritesfanfics
Broken Souls | series masterlist By: @jwritesfanfic
plum, masterlist By: @thyme-in-a-bubble
Harder To Find What’s Right By: @something-tofightfor
Look for the Light - Masterlist By: @albertasunrise
Seeing you, Seeing me - completed series By: @amywritesthings
At Your Service By: @randofantfic
Broken Without You (Completed) By: @sourwolf-sterek32
Gold Rush | Masterlist By: @trulybetty
Canary In A Coal Mine: Masterlist By: @thebigsl33p
Apothecary - A Joel Miller Story By: @atinylittlepain
Fall Into Temptation Masterlist By: @darkroastjoel
The Great War By: @stylesispunk
Fractured masterlist By: @katsheadinclouds
Whiskey Tears By: @papipedroo
Slow Hands By: @tightjeansjavi
Edge of Darkness By: @hyzer34
Restoring the Roots By: @bearsbeetsbeskar
Keep close By: @nexusnyx
Texas Sun By: @from-the-clouds
But you know the killdeer doesn’t understand By: @morning-star-joy
In the woods somewhere By: @thetriumphantpanda
Ghost of you By: @thetriumphantpanda
A safe haven By: @joelsgreys
Slow hands By: @tightjeansjavi
Look what we’ve become By: @punkshort
The way we were By: @punkshort
Fate, after all By: @mandoisapunk
Under the moonlight By: @hier--soir
Five days By: @morallyinept
A Future Together By: @kteague
flash point By: @dustydaddyyy
Seeing you, Seeing me By: @amywritesthings
I couldn’t want you anymore By: @Stylesispunk
You know you never stood a chance By: @corazondebeskar-reads
Firefly By: @final-girl96
Seeking what’s desirable By: @chloeangelic
Too Sweet By: @bunnysbrainrot
Over again By: @burntheedges
I need to start a garden By: @sepptember
You’re the loss of my life By: @stylesispunk
The days of you and I By: @stylesispunk
Willow & Whiskey By: @millers-girl
The days of you and I By: @stylesispunk
J.M. - One Shots
Love at First Fight Part 2 By: @jazzysnazzys
one thing i'm missing (joel miller/reader) PART ONE By: @joelscruff
Willow | joel miller x f!reader | pt. 1 By: @jenispunk
Bell Bottom Blues By: @thot-of-khonshu
Observations By: @ezrasbirdie
Followed the Beast By: @psychedelic-ink (more parts please)
SYNOPSIS: The first time you follow Toji Fushiguro, he tells you to stop. The second time, he corners you and asks what you want. By the third time… he’s already waiting.
WORD COUNT: 12.3k
The rain in Tokyo never felt clean. It came down in greasy sheets that smelled like exhaust and old concrete, pooling in the gutters of the narrow backstreets behind Kabukicho where the neon signs flickered like dying fireflies. You pulled the hood of your black raincoat tighter, the fabric already soaked through at the shoulders. Your sneakers squelched with every step, but you kept your pace steady. Three blocks behind the man you’d been tracking for the last two hours.
Toji Fushiguro.
You’d first heard the name three weeks ago in a smoke-filled izakaya tucked behind a pachinko parlor. A low-level curse user with a broken nose and too much sake in his veins had been bragging about “the guy who doesn’t need cursed energy to make sorcerers disappear.” He’d laughed like it was a joke, but his eyes had darted around the room like he expected the man himself to step out of the shadows. You’d paid for his next drink, asked the right questions, and left with a description that still made your stomach tighten: tall, broad, scar at the corner of his mouth, eyes like chipped jade. No allegiance. No mercy. Just money and whatever violence paid the most.
You weren’t a sorcerer. You weren’t even a curse user. You were just… you. A civilian who had seen too much of the world most people pretended didn’t exist. A family member lost to a curse three years ago, a police report that called it a “gas leak,” and a quiet, burning need to understand the things that moved in the dark. Toji’s name kept coming up in the places where the veil between normal and nightmare thinned. People said he killed sorcerers for sport. People said he took jobs no one else would touch. People said if you followed him long enough, you’d either learn something worth knowing or you’d end up in a ditch.
You chose to follow.
Tonight he was moving like he had somewhere to be. Long strides eating up the wet pavement, black jacket slung over one shoulder, the white compression shirt underneath clinging to the hard lines of muscle across his back. A duffel bag hung from his opposite hand, heavy enough that the strap bit into his shoulder. You kept your distance, ducking behind vending machines and clusters of salarymen stumbling out of hostess clubs. You thought you were invisible.
You were wrong.
He stopped at the mouth of a narrow alley that smelled like rotting fish and wet cardboard. The streetlight overhead buzzed, casting his shadow long and jagged across the ground. For a second he just stood there, head slightly tilted, rain sliding down the back of his neck and darkening his hair.
Then, without turning around, voice low and rough like gravel dragged over concrete:
“You’re bad at this.”
Your heart slammed against your ribs so hard you felt it in your teeth. He didn’t raise his voice. The words carried anyway, cutting through the rain and the distant city noise like a knife through wet paper.
You froze mid-step, one foot still lifted. He still hadn’t turned. Just stood there, shoulders loose, like he was bored.
“Thought you’d quit after the third block,” he continued, the scar at the corner of his mouth pulling as he spoke. “Most people do. You’re either stupid or stubborn. Haven’t decided which yet.”
Slowly, he pivoted. The movement was casual, almost lazy, but there was nothing lazy about the way his eyes locked onto you. The kind of gaze that measured how fast you’d bleed if he decided you were worth the effort. Rainwater dripped from the tips of his hair and ran down the side of his face, tracing the line of that scar before disappearing under his jaw.
He was bigger up close. Not just tall, he was solid. The kind of build that came from years of breaking things that tried to break him first. The duffel bag stayed gripped in one hand, fingers loose but ready.
You swallowed. Your voice came out steadier than you expected. “I’m not here to cause trouble.”
A short, humorless huff of a laugh escaped him. “Yeah? Could’ve fooled me. You’ve been on my ass since Shinjuku Station. Thought it was a coincidence at first. Then you switched trains when I did.” He took one step closer, boots splashing through a puddle. The alley behind him yawned dark and empty, the perfect place for someone to disappear. “Most stalkers at least try to blend in. You look like you’re playing dress-up in a spy movie.”
Heat crawled up your neck. You hadn’t thought you were that obvious. You’d changed coats twice, kept your head down, stayed in the crowds. Apparently none of it mattered.
Toji’s eyes dragged over you slowly and assessing. Not leering. Just cataloging. The way your raincoat clung to your frame, the way your hands were clenched at your sides, the way you hadn’t run yet. Something like irritation flickered across his face, there and gone.
“Last chance, kid,” he said, voice dropping an octave. “Turn around. Go home. Pretend you never saw me. Whatever little game you’re playing ends here.”
You didn’t move.
He waited. Three full seconds of rain drumming on metal roofs and distant car horns. When you still stood there, jaw set, eyes locked on his, the corner of his mouth twitched again. This time not quite a smirk, closer to annoyance.
“Stubborn it is.” He exhaled through his nose, shoulders shifting like he was already dismissing you. “Fine. Keep following if you want. Just know I don’t do warnings twice.” He turned on his heel, boots scraping wet concrete, and started walking again like you were nothing more than a stray cat that had picked the wrong alley.
You let him get half a block ahead before you started moving again. Your pulse was still hammering, but your feet obeyed before your brain could talk you out of it. He didn’t look back. Not once. But you could feel the shift in the air between you, like the tension on a tripwire stretched taut.
By the time you reached the next intersection, the rain had eased into a drizzle. Toji disappeared into the crowd outside a 24-hour konbini, the fluorescent light washing over his broad back for a split second before he was gone again. You lingered across the street, watching the automatic doors slide shut behind him.
You told yourself it was just curiosity. You told yourself you’d stop once you figured out what he was really after tonight. You told yourself a lot of things.
But when he emerged five minutes later with a fresh pack of cigarettes and a can of black coffee, he didn’t even glance your way before heading deeper into the district. And you followed.
Again.
The game had started, whether he liked it or not.
And Toji Fushiguro? He already knew the rules better than you ever would.
The next morning hit you like a hangover you hadn’t earned. Your legs ached from the miles you’d walked the night before, and your rain-soaked clothes were still draped over the back of a chair in your tiny studio apartment in the outskirts of Ikebukuro, dripping faint puddles onto the tatami mats. You stood in front of the cracked mirror above the sink, splashing cold water on your face, and stared at your own reflection. Dark circles under your eyes. Hair still damp and sticking to your forehead. A faint bruise on your shin from bumping into a bicycle rack while trying to keep up with him in the dark. You should have felt fear. Rational people would have. But instead there was this low, electric hum under your skin. Something that tasted like defiance and curiosity braided together so tightly you couldn’t tell them apart anymore.
You told yourself it was research. You told yourself that if you could just figure out what made a man like Toji Fushiguro tick. Like what jobs he took, who he answered to, why the underground whispered his name like a curse and a prayer at the same time. Then maybe you could understand the world that had swallowed your cousin whole three years ago. The one the police called a “gas leak” and the sorcerers never even bothered to acknowledge. But deep down you knew it was more than that. He had looked right through you last night, like you were an inconvenience he could swat away, and something in you had refused to be swatted.
So you went back out.
Day two started in Shinjuku again, but this time the city felt different. It felt more sharper, more alive with the kind of tension that hummed just beneath the surface of the crowds. You spotted him at 10:17 a.m. outside the west exit of the station, the same duffel bag from last night slung over his shoulder, now looking a little lighter. He was wearing a different shirt today. Today was a faded black, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing the thick cords of muscle and the faint white lines of old scars that crisscrossed his forearms like a map of every fight he’d won. The scar at the corner of his mouth was more noticeable in daylight, pulling slightly when he lit a cigarette with a cheap plastic lighter. He didn’t scan the crowd. He didn’t need to. You could feel it the second his eyes flicked in your general direction, even though you were half-hidden behind a newspaper stand selling overpriced tourist maps.
He started walking.
You followed.
This time he didn’t bother with the subtle stuff. He cut through the busiest parts of Kabukicho at midday, weaving between salarymen on lunch breaks and clusters of giggling office ladies in their pencil skirts. He moved faster than before. With long, purposeful strides that forced you to jog intermittently just to keep him in sight without breaking into a full run. You ducked into doorways, pretended to check your phone at crosswalks, once even slipped into a Lawson to buy a bottle of water just to look normal. But every time you emerged, he was still there, ahead by exactly the right distance to make you think you might lose him if you blinked.
By the time he veered off the main streets and into the narrower back alleys near Golden Gai, the air had grown thick with the smell of yakitori grease and stale beer. The buildings here leaned in close, laundry lines strung between them like spiderwebs, and the ground was slick with yesterday’s rain that hadn’t quite dried. Toji disappeared around a corner. You hurried after him, heart picking up speed, only to find the alley splitting into three narrower passages. No sign of him. You chose the middle one on instinct. The darkest, the one that smelled faintly of mold and something metallic.
Wrong choice.
You’d only gone ten meters when you heard it: the low scrape of a boot behind you. You spun around, but the alley was empty. Just shadows and a stray cat watching you from a windowsill with disinterested yellow eyes. Your pulse thudded in your ears. You kept going. Another thirty meters and the passage opened into a small, forgotten courtyard behind an abandoned pachinko parlor. Graffiti covered the walls in violent slashes of red and black. Broken bottles crunched under your sneakers.
And there he was.
Leaning against the far wall, arms crossed over his broad chest, cigarette dangling from his lips. He hadn’t even broken a sweat. The duffel bag sat at his feet like it weighed nothing. His green eyes locked onto yours the second you stepped into view, and this time there was no boredom in them. Just a flat, assessing irritation that made the scar at his mouth twitch.
“Two days in a row,” he said, voice low and rough, carrying easily across the small space. He took a slow drag, exhaling smoke that curled up toward the gray sky. “You’re either the most dedicated idiot I’ve ever seen or you’ve got a death wish. Which is it?”
You didn’t answer right away. Your throat felt tight, but you forced yourself to stand your ground, shoulders squared even though every instinct screamed at you to back up. He was bigger in daylight. Six-foot-something of solid, battle-hardened muscle that made the courtyard feel smaller just by existing in it. The compression shirt from last night had been replaced by something looser, but it still clung to the wide spread of his shoulders and the taper of his waist. A faint sheen of sweat glistened at the hollow of his throat where his shirt collar dipped.
“I told you,” you said, surprised at how steady your voice came out. “I’m not here to cause trouble.”
Toji let out a short, humorless laugh that sounded more like a growl. “Yeah, and I told you to quit. Most people listen when I talk.” He pushed off the wall with one shoulder, closing half the distance between you in two lazy steps. The cigarette flicked away into a puddle where it hissed out. Up close, you could smell the faint mix of tobacco, clean sweat, and something sharper. “You following me into places like this? Not smart. These alleys eat civilians for breakfast.”
You swallowed but didn’t step back. “I’m not a civilian in the way you think.”
His eyebrow lifted a fraction, the closest thing to genuine surprise you’d seen on his face yet. He studied you again, slower this time, eyes dragging from the scuffed toes of your sneakers up to the way your jacket hung slightly askew from all the dodging. “No cursed energy. No technique. No backup. Just you and whatever dumb reason’s got you glued to my shadow.” He tilted his head, scar pulling as his mouth curved into something that wasn’t quite a smirk. “Persistent. I’ll give you that. Most tails I shake off in under an hour. You’re on day two and still breathing.”
He turned then, like the conversation bored him, and started walking again. Deeper into the maze of alleys that led toward the more rundown parts of the district, the kind of places where streetlights flickered out early and the only eyes watching were the ones that knew better than to ask questions. You followed. Of course you did.
The rest of that day blurred into a test of endurance. He took routes that made no sense. Doubling back through crowded markets, slipping into subway stations only to exit three stops later and hail a cab that he ditched after two blocks. Once he sprinted across a busy intersection just as the light changed, forcing you to weave through honking cars and angry drivers shouting in Japanese. Your lungs burned. Your calves screamed. But every time you thought you’d lost him for good, he’d reappear just far enough ahead that you could still see the broad line of his back, the way his jacket shifted with each stride like it was barely containing the power underneath.
By evening, the sky had turned the color of bruised plums, and he’d led you all the way to a quiet industrial stretch near the Sumida River. Warehouses loomed on either side, windows dark, chains rattling in the wind. The air smelled of rust and river mud. Toji stopped at the edge of a chain-link fence that surrounded what looked like an old storage yard. He didn’t turn around this time. Just stood there, shoulders loose, head slightly cocked like he was listening to the way your footsteps slowed behind him.
“You’re still here,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. The irritation in his voice had shifted. Less sharp, more... intrigued? Like he was turning over a puzzle he hadn’t expected to be interesting. He glanced over his shoulder, green eyes catching the last of the sunset light. “Not scared off by the alleys. Not scared off by the speed. Not even by the fact that I could’ve snapped your neck back there and no one would’ve blinked.”
You stopped a few meters away, chest heaving, but your chin stayed up. Sweat trickled down the back of your neck. Your hands were trembling slightly from adrenaline, but you clenched them into fists at your sides so he wouldn’t see.
Toji exhaled through his nose, a sound that was almost a chuckle but darker. He ran a hand through his damp hair, pushing it back from his forehead, and for the first time you noticed the way the muscles in his arm flexed. Casual, effortless, but carrying the kind of strength that could crush bone without trying. “Most people who tail me want something. Money. A job. Revenge. You? You just... follow. Like a stray that doesn’t know when to quit.”
He didn’t wait for an answer. He vaulted the fence in one smooth motion, landing silently on the other side, and disappeared between the rows of rusted shipping containers. You climbed after him. Though clumsier, slower, scraping your palm on the wire but you made it. The yard was a labyrinth of shadows and echoing metal. You moved carefully, listening for his footsteps, but all you caught was the distant hum of the city and the soft lap of the river against the concrete bank.
When you finally rounded a container and saw him again, he was sitting on a stack of wooden pallets, legs spread, elbows resting on his knees. The duffel bag was open beside him now, and you caught a glimpse of something metallic inside. Tools? Weapons? Before he zipped it shut with a casual flick of his wrist. He was watching you. Not with the flat dismissal from last night. This was different. Calculating. Like he was measuring how long you’d last before you broke.
“Third time’s the charm, huh?” he said, voice carrying low across the empty yard. The scar at his mouth twitched again, but this time there was the barest hint of something else in his eyes—curiosity, maybe. Or the first flicker of reluctant tolerance. “You don’t scare easy. I’ll give you that much. Most civilians would’ve pissed themselves by now.”
He stood up slowly, unfolding all that height and muscle until he towered over the space between you. The river wind tugged at his jacket, pressing the fabric against the hard planes of his chest. He took one step closer, then another, until the distance between you felt charged, like the air right before a storm. Not touching. Not yet. But close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him, smell the faint salt of his skin mixed with the cigarette smoke that still clung to his clothes.
“Keep it up if you want,” he said, voice dropping an octave, rougher now. “But I’m not slowing down for you next time. And the places I go after dark? They don’t play nice with pretty little shadows who don’t know when to stop.”
He brushed past you then. Close enough that his arm grazed your shoulder, sending a jolt through you that had nothing to do with fear. You turned to watch him go, boots crunching over gravel as he headed toward the far gate of the yard. He didn’t look back.
But you could feel his awareness of you now, like a hook sunk deep under your ribs. He wasn’t just irritated anymore.
He was starting to watch you back.
You followed him out of the yard anyway, the city lights flickering on around you like silent witnesses. Your body hurt. Your mind was spinning with questions. But the pull was stronger than ever. The stubborn refusal to let go of whatever this was becoming.
Toji Fushiguro had set the rules of the game.
And you had just decided you were going to play them all the way to the end.
The third day felt different from the start.
You woke up before dawn, muscles still sore from the previous day’s marathon through Tokyo’s underbelly. The scrape on your palm from climbing the fence had scabbed over into an angry red line, and your calves burned with every step across your small apartment. You stood at the window overlooking the gray sprawl of Ikebukuro, sipping bitter instant coffee, and stared at the faint reflection of your face in the glass. There were new shadows under your eyes, but your gaze was steadier and sharper now. The curiosity that had first driven you had twisted into something deeper, more insistent. You weren’t just gathering information anymore. You were proving something to yourself: that you could exist in his world without breaking. That the man everyone warned you about wasn’t untouchable.
You didn’t have to search for him that morning. He found you first.
It happened outside the small ramen shop you’d ducked into for a quick breakfast around 7:30 a.m. The place was cramped, steam thick in the air, the clatter of bowls and chopsticks a constant background hum. You were halfway through a bowl of tonkotsu when the stool beside you scraped back. You didn’t need to look up to know who it was. The sheer presence of him filled the narrow space like smoke. Broad shoulders, the faint scent of cigarettes and clean sweat cutting through the pork broth and garlic.
Toji dropped onto the stool with casual grace, one elbow resting on the counter, his body angled just enough that his knee brushed the side of your thigh under the bar. He didn’t order anything. Just sat there, green eyes fixed on the side of your face as the old man behind the counter slid a bowl in front of him without being asked. The scar at the corner of his mouth pulled slightly when he picked up the chopsticks.
“Morning, shadow,” he said, voice low enough that only you could hear it over the noise. The word came out almost lazy, but there was an edge to it now. There was less irritation, more something testing. Probing. “Didn’t expect you to still be limping around after yesterday. Figured you’d sleep in. Nurse those pretty little bruises.”
Your spoon paused mid-air. Heat crawled up your neck at the casual way he mentioned your exhaustion, like he’d been cataloging every sign of strain on your body the entire time. You forced yourself to take another bite, keeping your tone even. “I’m not limping.”
A low chuckle rumbled from his chest. Deep and rough, the kind that vibrated through the air between you. “Sure you’re not.” He leaned in slightly, his shoulder crowding yours, the heat of his arm radiating through the thin fabric of your jacket. Up close like this, you could see the fine details: the way stubble shadowed his jaw, the faint white lines of scars disappearing under the collar of his black shirt, the thick muscle of his forearm flexing as he lifted noodles to his mouth. He ate like he did everything else. Efficient, unhurried, but with an underlying power that made the simple act feel dangerous.
He didn’t say anything else for a while. Just ate in silence, his knee still pressed lightly against yours, refusing to give you space. Every time you shifted to create distance, he shifted too, casual as breathing, until the contact felt deliberate. Not aggressive. Not yet. Just… invasive. Testing how far he could push before you flinched.
When the meal was done, he paid for both bowls with a crumpled bill tossed onto the counter, then stood. “Come on. We’re walking.”
You blinked. “We?”
Toji’s eyes flicked down to you, the scar twitching with the barest hint of a smirk. “You’ve been following me for three days. Might as well make it official. Unless you’re finally done playing pretend.”
He didn’t wait for an answer. He headed for the door, and you followed. Because of course you did. The streets were just waking up, salarymen rushing past with briefcases, delivery bikes weaving through traffic. Toji set a brutal pace again, but this time he made sure you stayed close. He’d slow just enough for you to catch up, then accelerate without warning, forcing you to weave through the crowd beside him instead of behind. Once, when a group of tourists blocked the sidewalk, he grabbed your elbow. His large, calloused hand wrapping easily around your arm and pulled you through the gap, his grip firm but not bruising. He let go the second you were clear, but the phantom heat of his fingers lingered on your skin for blocks.
The real test came in the afternoon.
He led you into a part of the city you’d only heard rumors about. A decaying industrial zone on the edge of the Sumida River where old factories stood like skeletons, their windows shattered and walls tagged with faded gang signs. The air smelled of rust, stagnant water, and distant smoke from a trash fire someone had lit under a bridge. Toji walked ahead, but every few minutes he’d vanish around a corner only to reappear suddenly behind you, his voice low and close to your ear.
“Still breathing back there?”
You’d jolt, heart slamming, but you never stopped. He did it three more times. Slipping into shadows, then materializing at your side or just behind your shoulder, close enough that you could feel the brush of his jacket against your back. Each time his presence felt heavier, more intentional. He wasn’t just testing your endurance anymore. He was testing your reactions. How you handled the sudden proximity. How long you could hold his gaze when he cornered you against a rusted chain-link fence, one arm braced beside your head, his body leaning in until the space between you shrank to nothing but shared air and the faint scent of his skin.
“You don’t scare easy,” he murmured during one of those moments, green eyes locked on yours from inches away. His voice had dropped lower, rougher, the words vibrating through the narrow gap. “Most people would’ve run by now. Started crying. Begged me to leave them alone.” His free hand came up, not touching you, but hovering near your shoulder, fingers flexing like he was debating whether to push further. The scar at his mouth was so close you could see the faint white line where it cut through stubble. “What’s your angle, huh? You looking for a thrill? Trying to prove something? Or are you just that fucking stubborn?”
Your back pressed against the cold metal of the fence. His body heat wrapped around you like a cage. Solid chest rising and falling steadily, the hard line of his hips only a breath away from brushing yours. It wasn’t sexual. Not yet. It was pressure. Pure, unrelenting pressure designed to make you crack. But you met his eyes, jaw tight, and said nothing. Just held the stare until something flickered in his gaze, reluctant respect mixed with that same growing curiosity.
He pushed off the fence with a low exhale, almost a growl, and walked away again. But the distance didn’t last. By late afternoon he was doing it on purpose: cornering you in narrow passages between warehouses, appearing suddenly in doorways you were about to enter, standing so close in the dim light that you had to tilt your head back to look at him. Each time his hands would find casual contact. Fingers brushing your wrist when he “steadied” you after a loose gravel patch, palm pressing lightly against your lower back to guide you around a puddle of oily water. Never lingering long enough to be overt. Always enough to remind you how easily he could overwhelm you if he wanted.
The sun was dipping low when he finally led you into the narrowest alley yet. A forgotten corridor between two crumbling brick buildings, barely wide enough for two people to pass. Trash bags lined one wall, and the ground was slick with something you didn’t want to identify. Toji stopped abruptly in the middle, turning so fast you nearly collided with his chest. He didn’t step back. Instead, he crowded you backward until your shoulders hit the rough brick, his body boxing you in completely. One forearm braced against the wall beside your head, the other hand resting lightly on the bricks near your hip, effectively trapping you without touching.
The alley smelled of damp stone and faint rot, but all you could focus on was him. The broad expanse of his chest filling your vision, the way his shirt stretched across his shoulders, the slow, controlled rhythm of his breathing. His face was inches from yours, green eyes dark in the fading light, the scar at his mouth pulled into a line that was no longer purely irritated.
“What do you want?” he asked, voice low and slow, each word deliberate. It wasn’t a demand this time. It was heavier. More focused. Like he was genuinely trying to peel back your layers. “Three days. You’ve followed me through crowds, alleys, warehouses. I’ve tested every limit I can think of short of putting a knife to your throat, and you’re still here. So tell me. What the fuck do you actually want from me?”
Your heart hammered against your ribs, so loud you were sure he could hear it. His presence was overwhelming. Heat, muscle, the faint salt-and-smoke scent of his skin. His knee had shifted forward just enough to brush the outside of your thigh, keeping you pinned in place. Not painful. Just inescapable. The tension in the air crackled like static before lightning, thick and unspoken. You could feel the restrained power in every inch of him, the way he held himself back from pressing fully against you, the way his eyes searched your face for any sign of fear or deception.
You opened your mouth, but the words caught. Not because you were scared, but because you didn’t have a clean answer anymore. Curiosity had become something messier. Stubbornness had become obsession. And standing this close to Toji Fushiguro, trapped in his shadow, made it impossible to pretend it was still just about gathering information.
He waited. The silence stretched, heavy and intimate in the narrow space. His breath ghosted warm across your cheek when he leaned in a fraction more, voice dropping to a near-whisper that sent a shiver down your spine.
“You don’t listen. You don’t run. You just… keep coming back.” His eyes flicked down to your mouth for the briefest second before returning to yours. “Careful, shadow. Keep pushing like this and I might stop telling you to leave.”
He didn’t move away immediately. Let the words hang there, let the proximity sink in. The solid wall of his body, the way his forearm flexed beside your head, the undeniable awareness that he could close the last inch of distance whenever he chose. Then, with a low exhale that sounded almost frustrated, he pushed off the wall and stepped back, giving you air again.
But the tension didn’t dissipate. It followed you both as he turned and continued down the alley, expecting you to follow.
And you did.
The game had changed again. He wasn’t just testing your limits anymore.
He was starting to test his own.
Night had fully claimed Tokyo by the time the fourth day bled into the fifth. The city lights glittered like scattered shards of glass against the dark sky, but where Toji led you now, those lights felt distant and irrelevant. The industrial zone near the Sumida River had given way to something far more derelict. An abandoned shipyard on the outskirts, where rusted hulks of old cargo vessels loomed like skeletal beasts half-sunk in the black water. The air was thick with the stench of saltwater, decaying metal, and something sharper underneath: gunpowder residue and old blood. Wind howled through broken windows and twisted scaffolding, carrying distant echoes of waves slapping against concrete pilings.
You shouldn’t have been here.
You knew it the moment Toji’s pace changed. Earlier that evening he had been almost… tolerant. After the narrow alley confrontation, he hadn’t told you to leave again. Instead, he had moved through the city with you trailing at his side more often than behind, his broad frame cutting a path through the growing darkness. There had been more brushes of contact. His hand grazing your lower back to steer you away from a suspicious group of men loitering under a bridge, his shoulder bumping yours when he stopped abruptly to light a cigarette. Each touch lingered a fraction longer than necessary, sending unwelcome sparks across your skin. The irritation in his eyes had dulled into something heavier, more watchful. He observed you constantly now: the way you breathed through exhaustion, the stubborn set of your jaw, the way you never asked for a break even when your legs trembled.
But tonight he was different. Tense. Focused in a way that made the scar at the corner of his mouth pull tight. The duffel bag over his shoulder looked heavier again, clinking faintly with every step. He had led you deeper into the shipyard without explanation, vaulting over chained gates and navigating the maze of shipping containers and abandoned cranes like he owned the shadows. You followed because stopping now felt impossible, like admitting defeat after four days of proving you wouldn’t break.
The first sign of real danger came as a low whistle cutting through the wind.
Toji froze mid-stride between two towering stacks of rusted containers. His hand shot out without looking, fingers wrapping firmly around your wrist and yanking you behind the nearest metal wall. The contact was sudden, his grip iron-hard but controlled, pulling you flush against his side. Your shoulder pressed into the solid wall of his chest, and for a heartbeat you felt the steady thud of his heart against your arm. Calm, deliberate, like a machine built for violence.
“Stay quiet,” he muttered, voice barely above a breath, lips close to your ear. His breath was warm against your skin, carrying the faint trace of the cigarette he’d smoked earlier. “This isn’t part of the game anymore.”
You nodded once, throat tight. Your pulse hammered wildly where his fingers still circled your wrist, thumb pressing lightly against the frantic flutter of your vein. He didn’t let go. Instead, he shifted his body to shield you more completely, his broad back blocking the narrow gap between containers. The heat radiating from him cut through the chill night air, his black jacket brushing your front as he leaned forward slightly to peer around the edge.
Voices drifted from the far end of the yard. Rough, low, speaking in clipped Japanese laced with curses. Three men, maybe four. You caught fragments: “... the hit’s confirmed… Fushiguro’s supposed to be here tonight… pay double if we bring proof…” The metallic click of guns being chambered followed. Your stomach dropped. This wasn’t a random encounter. This was a setup. Someone had known Toji would come here. Someone who wanted him dead.
Toji’s jaw tightened, the scar pulling white against his stubble. His green eyes narrowed, calculating. He released your wrist but only to slide his hand to your waist instead, fingers splaying possessively over your hip to keep you pinned against him and out of sight. The touch was firm, almost grounding, his palm large enough to span a good portion of your side. “Idiots,” he growled under his breath. “They sent amateurs.
You opened your mouth to whisper something. Maybe a warning, maybe a question, but he silenced you with a sharp look and a slight squeeze at your waist. Then he moved.
Everything happened too fast for you to process properly.
Toji shoved you back against the container with enough force to keep you hidden but not enough to hurt, then stepped out into the open like he was taking a casual stroll. The men spotted him immediately. Shouts erupted. Gunfire cracked through the night. The sharp, deafening pops that echoed off the metal walls. You pressed yourself flat against the cold steel, heart slamming so hard it felt like it might crack your ribs. Peeking around the edge, you saw him: Toji moved like liquid shadow despite his size. He dodged the first barrage with terrifying ease, muscles coiling and releasing under his jacket as he closed the distance in three powerful strides.
The first man went down with a sickening crunch. Toji’s fist connecting with his jaw, the force snapping his head back before a knife appeared in Toji’s hand like it had always been there. A flash of steel. A wet gurgle. The second attacker tried to swing a bat, but Toji caught the weapon mid-arc, ripped it from his hands, and drove the end into the man’s gut with brutal efficiency. The third fired again, bullet whining past Toji’s ear, but Toji was already on him. Grabbing the gun hand and twisting until bone snapped. A final, precise strike to the throat, and the man crumpled.
It should have been over.
But you had made a mistake.
In your desperation to see what was happening to understand the violence unfolding in front of you. You had stepped out from behind the container. Just one step. Just far enough for the fourth man, hidden on a catwalk above, to spot you. He had been waiting for an opening, rifle trained on the chaos below. When you moved, his aim shifted.
The shot rang out.
Time slowed.
You felt the impact before the pain. A searing line of fire across your left side, just below your ribs. The force spun you half-around, slamming you back against the container. Your vision blurred with white-hot agony. A gasp tore from your throat as your legs buckled. Blood immediately soaked through your shirt, spreading in a dark bloom against the fabric. The world tilted violently.
“Toji—” The name slipped out, small and broken, before you could stop it.
He was there before you hit the ground.
One moment the night was chaos and gunfire; the next, his arms were around you, strong and unyielding. He caught you against his chest, one massive hand pressing hard over the wound to staunch the bleeding while the other arm banded around your back, holding you upright. The fourth man never got a second shot. Toji moved with lethal speed. His body twisting to shield yours completely as he hurled a knife from some hidden sheath with deadly accuracy. You heard the wet thunk of impact, a strangled cry, and then the heavy thud of a body falling from the catwalk.
Silence fell, broken only by the distant lap of water and your own ragged breathing.
Toji didn’t let go.
His grip lingered, almost bruising in its intensity. He lowered you both to the ground with surprising care, his back against the container for support while he kept you cradled against him. One knee braced on the concrete, the other leg stretched out so you half-lay across his lap. His large hand stayed pressed firmly over your side, applying steady pressure. Blood seeped between his fingers, warm and slick, but he didn’t flinch. His free arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you closer into the solid heat of his body as if he could shield you from the entire world.
“Fuck,” he muttered, voice rough and low, laced with something raw you hadn’t heard from him before. His breath came faster now, chest rising and falling heavily against your cheek. “You stupid, stubborn little shit. I told you not to follow me into places like this.”
You tried to speak, but pain lanced through you, turning it into a weak hiss. Your hand came up instinctively, fingers curling into the front of his jacket, gripping the fabric like a lifeline. Up close like this. Pressed against the hard planes of his chest, surrounded by the scent of gunpowder, sweat, and the faint metallic tang of blood, you could feel every inch of him. The rapid thud of his heart. The tension in his massive shoulders. The way his muscles flexed and held rigid, like he was fighting the urge to do something more violent to the already dead men around you.
His green eyes bored into yours, the scar at his mouth pulled into a tight line. There was no irritation now. No bored dismissal. Just raw, protective instinct blazing in his gaze. His hand on your wound tightened slightly, not enough to hurt more, but enough to remind you he had you. “You don’t get to follow me into places like that,” he growled, the words coming out slower, heavier. “You hear me? This isn’t your fucking game anymore. You almost got yourself killed because you wouldn’t listen.”
His thumb brushed unconsciously over your hip where his other hand still gripped you, a small, grounding motion that contrasted the roughness in his voice. He didn’t pull away. Didn’t loosen his hold. If anything, he adjusted you closer, tucking your head more securely under his chin, his stubble scraping lightly against your forehead. The protectiveness radiated off him in waves. Completely instinctive and possessive, like some primal part of him had snapped into place the moment you were in danger.
“You’re bleeding all over me,” he said after a long moment, tone gruff but quieter now. Almost… concerned? He shifted his jacket, using the inner lining to help press against the wound. “It’s a graze. Deep, but you’ll live. Lucky it wasn’t higher.” His voice dropped even lower, vibrating through his chest into yours. “But if you pull this shit again. If you step out like that when I tell you to stay hidden, I’ll tie you up myself and leave you somewhere safe until you learn.”
The threat should have scared you. Instead, it sent a strange warmth through the pain. His body was a solid anchor in the cold night, all hard muscle and restrained power wrapped around you like a shield. The lingering grip, the way he hadn’t let go even after the immediate threat was gone, the raw edge in his words. It all spoke louder than any irritation he’d shown before.
Toji stayed like that for several long minutes, holding you against him while the adrenaline slowly ebbed. His breathing evened out, but his hand never left your side. When he finally spoke again, it was barely a murmur against your hair.
“Next time… you stay behind me. No arguments.”
He didn’t phrase it as a command to stop following.
He phrased it as an order to stay closer.
The shift had happened.
You weren’t just a stubborn shadow anymore.
And Toji Fushiguro had just proven he wasn’t willing to let you get hurt.
The shipyard faded into memory like a bad dream you couldn’t quite shake.
Toji had patched you up that night with surprising efficiency. No hospital, no questions asked. He’d half-carried you out of the yard, one thick arm banded around your waist to keep pressure on the graze while the other supported most of your weight. Your side burned with every step, blood soaking through the makeshift bandage he’d torn from the inner lining of his own jacket. He didn’t speak much on the way back, just low grunts directing you toward a dingy motel on the edge of the industrial district. The room was cheap and anonymous. Faded wallpaper, a single creaking bed, the faint smell of stale smoke and disinfectant. He sat you on the edge of the mattress, disappeared for ten minutes, and returned with antiseptic, gauze, and a bottle of cheap whiskey.
“Drink,” he ordered, pressing the bottle into your hands while he knelt in front of you. His broad frame took up most of the space between the bed and the wall, knees bracketing your legs as he worked. Those large, calloused hands were surprisingly steady as he cleaned the wound, green eyes focused entirely on the task. Every time you hissed in pain, his thumb would brush lightly over the uninjured skin just above the graze like an unconscious apology. When it was done, he wrapped it tight, then stood, towering over you again.
“Sleep. I’ll be here.”
He didn’t leave. Instead, he dropped into the single chair by the window, duffel bag at his feet, and watched the door. You drifted off to the sound of his slow, even breathing and the occasional click of his lighter.
That had been three days ago.
Everything was different now.
You no longer had to hunt for Toji through crowded streets or shadowed alleys. He found you first.
It started small.
The morning after the shipyard, you woke to an empty room and a note scrawled on the back of a konbini receipt: Don’t move much. Eat. Beside it sat a plastic bag with onigiri, painkillers, and a fresh shirt that was comically oversized that was clearly one of his. When you stepped outside later that afternoon, testing the limits of your bandaged side, he was already there. Leaning against a utility pole across the street, arms crossed over his broad chest, black jacket slung over one shoulder. The scar at the corner of his mouth twitched when your eyes met his, but he didn’t say anything about the previous night. Just jerked his chin toward the sidewalk and started walking.
You fell into step beside him instead of behind.
He didn’t comment on the change.
The new rhythm settled in quietly over the following days, like a current you’d both stopped fighting.
He started noticing where you were before you could even think about following.
On the fourth morning, you were in a small café near your apartment in Ikebukuro, nursing a black coffee and trying not to aggravate the healing graze on your side. The bell above the door chimed, and there he was. Filling the doorway with his height and shoulders, green eyes scanning the room until they locked on you. He didn’t look surprised. Just walked over, pulled out the chair across from you with a scrape of wood on tile, and sat. His knee bumped yours under the tiny table immediately, and he didn’t bother moving it away. The contact was casual now, almost habitual. Warmth seeped through the denim of his jeans into yours.
“Still breathing?” he asked, voice low and rough as he flagged down the waitress for his own coffee—black, no sugar.
You nodded, fingers tightening around your mug. “Thanks to you.”
He grunted, the sound almost dismissive, but his eyes lingered on the way you held yourself, protecting the injured side. Something flickered there. Not quite softness, but a watchful protectiveness that hadn’t existed before the shipyard. When the coffee arrived, he pushed the sugar packets toward you without asking if you wanted any, then leaned back in his chair, one arm draped over the backrest. The position made his shirt pull tight across his chest, outlining the heavy muscle underneath. He watched you drink in silence, the quiet between you heavier than it used to be. No more sharp warnings. No more testing routes to lose you. Just this weighted stillness, charged with everything unsaid.
By the fifth day, the pattern had solidified.
He would appear at odd hours. Sometimes waiting outside your building when you stepped out for groceries, sometimes materializing beside you on the subway platform like he’d timed it perfectly. Once, you woke to the sound of your apartment door clicking shut and found him in your kitchen, rummaging through your near-empty fridge like he owned the place. A fresh pack of bandages sat on the counter.
“You’re low on food,” he muttered without turning around. His back was to you, the white compression shirt stretching across the wide spread of his shoulders and tapering down to his narrow waist. The muscles along his spine shifted as he closed the fridge. “Eat better. That graze won’t heal if you’re running on empty.”
You stood in the doorway in an old t-shirt and shorts, suddenly hyper-aware of how small the kitchen felt with him in it. “You broke in?”
Toji finally turned, green eyes dragging slowly over you. From your bare legs to the faint outline of the bandage visible under your shirt. The scar at his mouth pulled into a faint, crooked smirk. “Door was shit. Easy fix.” He stepped closer, closing the distance until the counter was the only thing separating you. Up close, you could smell the faint mix of cigarette smoke and the clean, masculine scent that always clung to his skin. He reached out, large hand brushing the edge of your shirt near the bandage. “Let me check it.”
It wasn’t a request. His fingers were warm as he lifted the hem just enough to inspect the wound, thumb grazing the skin beside the gauze. The touch sent a shiver racing up your spine that had nothing to do with pain. He was close enough that you could see the faint stubble along his jaw, the way his lashes cast shadows over his eyes when he looked down. His breath brushed your collarbone. The proximity wasn’t aggressive like before, it was deliberate. Possessive in a quiet way. Like he was claiming the right to make sure you were still whole.
“It’s healing clean,” he said after a moment, voice lower than usual. He didn’t step back right away. His hand lingered, palm flattening briefly against your side just above the injury, feeling the steady rise and fall of your breathing. “Good. Means you might actually listen for once.”
The silence that followed was thick. You could hear the distant traffic outside, the hum of the old refrigerator, but mostly you heard the way his breathing had slowed, matching yours. Less distance between you now. Always. Whether walking side by side through evening markets or sitting on the edge of a rooftop he’d dragged you to “for the view,” he kept you within arm’s reach. Sometimes he’d wait for you by leaning against a wall with that lazy, dangerous grace, eyes already tracking your approach before you even turned the corner. Other times he found you first, appearing suddenly but without the old intent to startle. Just… there. Solid. Present.
The interactions grew more direct, too.
One night, after a long walk along the river where he’d pointed out a few “safe” routes you could take if you ever needed to disappear, you ended up back at the same cheap motel. He hadn’t asked if you wanted to go. He’d simply led, and you’d followed. The room felt smaller with both of you in it. Toji shrugged off his jacket, revealing the tight black shirt underneath that clung to every ridge of muscle. He dropped onto the bed, back against the headboard, legs spread in that casual, commanding way of his. Then he patted the space beside him.
“Sit.”
You did, careful of your side. The mattress dipped under his weight, pulling you slightly toward him. He didn’t move away. Instead, his arm stretched along the headboard behind your shoulders, not quite touching but close enough that you felt the heat. The silence stretched, heavier than ever. No more games of cat and mouse. No more sharp commands to stop following. The air between you crackled with unspoken tension. The memory of his body shielding yours in the shipyard, the lingering grip of his hands, the way he’d held you like something worth protecting.
You glanced at him. Toji was staring at the ceiling, jaw tight, the scar at his mouth faint in the dim lamp light. His free hand rested on his thigh, fingers drumming once, twice, before stilling. Then, without looking at you, he spoke.
“You’re not just following anymore.” The words came out rough, almost reluctant. “I know where you are now. Before you even show up. Sometimes I wait. Sometimes I come find you.” He exhaled through his nose, a low sound that vibrated in his chest. “Didn’t plan on that. Didn’t want it.”
He finally turned his head, green eyes meeting yours. There was no irritation left. Just raw honesty edged with something darker. Something that made the space between you feel electric. “But you wouldn’t quit. And now… I don’t want you to.”
The admission hung there, heavy and intimate. His arm behind you shifted slightly, fingers brushing the back of your shoulder in the barest contact. Not pulling you closer. Not yet. But the invitation was there in the way his body angled toward yours, the way the silence pressed in, thick with all the tension that had been building since that first rainy night.
You weren’t his shadow anymore.
You were something he kept close on purpose.
And the realization settled over both of you like a slow-burning fuse, waiting for the moment it would finally ignite.
The tension had been coiling tighter for days, like a wire stretched to its breaking point.
It finally snapped on the sixth night.
You had followed him again. Not out of habit this time, but because the pull between you had become impossible to ignore. The air in Tokyo felt heavier, thicker, charged with the weight of everything unsaid. Toji had spent the evening moving through the quieter districts near Yoyogi Park, his pace unhurried for once, broad shoulders cutting through the sparse crowds under the orange glow of streetlamps. You walked beside him now, no longer trailing behind. His arm occasionally brushed yours, the contact sending sparks across your skin that lingered long after he pulled away. He didn’t speak much. Just the occasional low grunt or a sidelong glance from those sharp green eyes, the scar at the corner of his mouth twitching whenever your steps faltered near a curb or when the healing graze on your side pulled uncomfortably.
But tonight something felt different. The silence between you wasn’t just heavy, it was electric. You could feel it in the way his gaze lingered longer, in the way his hand would hover near your lower back when crossing a street, not quite touching but close enough that you felt the heat. The protectiveness from the shipyard had deepened into something more possessive, more instinctive. He kept you close on purpose now, and every shared glance, every brush of skin, built the pressure higher.
He led you away from the main paths, deeper into the park’s less-traveled edges where the trees grew thick and the city lights faded into a distant haze. The air smelled of damp earth, pine, and the faint sweetness of night-blooming flowers. Gravel crunched under your shoes, and the distant hum of traffic felt miles away. Toji’s steps slowed as you approached a secluded section. A narrow, overgrown path flanked by dense foliage and an old, forgotten storage shed half-hidden behind a cluster of trees. The shed was weathered, its wooden door slightly ajar, the interior dark and musty with the scent of old lumber and dust.
Without warning, Toji’s hand shot out.
His fingers wrapped around your wrist and he pulled you off the path in one smooth motion. You stumbled slightly, but he didn’t let you fall. Instead, he guided you backward into the shed, kicking the door shut behind him with the heel of his boot. The latch clicked into place, sealing you both inside the small, dim space. Moonlight filtered through a single cracked window high on the wall, casting faint silver stripes across the floor and illuminating the hard lines of his face.
The shed was cramped. Barely enough room for two people, especially one built like Toji. Stacks of old crates lined one wall, tools hung on the opposite, and the air felt close, intimate, trapped. He didn’t release your wrist. Instead, he used the grip to turn you, backing you up until your shoulders hit the rough wooden wall. His body followed immediately, crowding you completely. There was no escape now. No distance, no pretending this was still just following or tolerance.
Toji loomed over you, all six-foot-something of solid, battle-hardened muscle. His broad chest filled your vision, the black shirt stretched tight across his pecs and the ridged lines of his abs. One forearm braced against the wall beside your head, the other hand still gripping your wrist, pinning it gently but inescapably above your shoulder. His hips shifted forward, pressing you firmly against the wood, the hard line of his thigh sliding between yours to keep you anchored in place. The heat of him was overwhelming. It was radiating through his clothes, wrapping around you like a brand. You could smell the familiar mix of cigarette smoke, clean sweat, and that underlying masculine scent that was purely him. His breath ghosted warm across your forehead, then lower, brushing your temple.
“You don’t listen,” he said, voice low and slow, each word drawn out like gravel rumbling in his chest. It wasn’t the sharp irritation from the first night. This was different. Darker, rougher, focused entirely on you. The scar at the corner of his mouth pulled as he spoke, his green eyes locked on yours with an intensity that made your pulse thunder. “All this time… following me. Pushing. Refusing to quit. Even after I warned you. Even after you got shot because of it.”
His free hand came up, large and warm, sliding slowly from your hip up your side. His palm pressed flat against the bandage over your graze, feeling the steady rise and fall of your breathing beneath the fabric. The touch was deliberate, possessive. Not gentle, but not cruel. His fingers flexed, thumb stroking just beside the wound in a slow, grounding circle that sent heat pooling low in your belly. He leaned in closer, forehead nearly touching yours, his stubble grazing your cheek as his lips hovered near your ear.
“But you’re still here,” he murmured, the words vibrating through you. “And I don’t want you gone anymore.”
The admission hung in the thick air between you. His thigh pressed more firmly between yours, the powerful muscle flexing as he shifted his weight, effectively pinning you harder against the wall. The proximity was complete with no space left to retreat. You could feel every inch of his body: the solid wall of his chest rising and falling against yours, the hard ridges of his abdomen, the unmistakable heat and weight of him growing heavier against your hip. His grip on your wrist tightened just enough to remind you he had control, but his thumb brushed over your pulse point in a slow, almost soothing rhythm that contradicted the roughness in his voice.
Toji pulled back slightly so he could look at you fully, green eyes dark and hooded in the moonlight. The scar made his expression look even more dangerous, more raw. “I’ve been watching you. Waiting for you. Finding you before you even start looking for me.” His hand on your side slid higher, slipping under the hem of your shirt to trace bare skin. Calloused fingertips dragged slowly up your ribs, avoiding the bandage but teasing the sensitive skin around it. “This body… stubborn as hell. Taking a bullet because you wouldn’t stay hidden. Healing slow because you keep pushing yourself.”
He leaned in again, nose brushing along your jawline, lips ghosting the shell of your ear. His voice dropped even lower, slower, a deep rumble that sent shivers racing down your spine. “I could’ve left you behind a hundred times. But I didn’t. Because somewhere along the way, I started liking having my shadow stuck to me.”
The hand under your shirt continued its slow exploration, palm flattening against your stomach, fingers splaying wide to claim as much skin as possible. He pressed his hips forward deliberately, letting you feel the full, hardening length of him against your thigh. The thick, insistent press of his arousal through his pants. It wasn’t rushed. It was claiming. Rough-edged and instinctive, built from days of proximity and tension. His thigh rocked subtly between yours, applying just enough pressure to make your breath hitch, the friction deliberate and unhurried.
“You feel that?” he growled softly, mouth now hovering over the pulse in your neck. His lips brushed the skin there, not quite kissing, but close enough that his breath scorched you. “That’s what you do to me now. All that following… all that refusing to run. You woke something up, and I’m not putting it back to sleep.”
Toji’s grip on your wrist finally released, but only so both of his hands could slide down your body. Large palms gripping your waist, fingers digging into the soft flesh with possessive strength. He lifted you slightly, just enough to pull you more firmly against him, your feet barely touching the ground as he held you pinned between his body and the wall. The position made you acutely aware of every powerful inch of him: the way his chest crushed against your breasts, the flex of his abs, the thick bulge grinding slowly against you with controlled rolls of his hips. His mouth finally made full contact. Hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck, teeth grazing lightly, tongue soothing the sting. Not soft. Rough. Hungry. Like he was marking territory he’d decided was his.
“Tell me to stop,” he rasped against your skin, voice thick and low, one hand sliding down to grip your ass, squeezing hard enough to pull a gasp from you. He rocked his hips again, slower this time, letting the heavy ridge of his cock drag along your core through your clothes, building friction that made heat flood through you in waves. “Tell me you don’t want this. That you’re done following. That you’re walking away.”
But his actions contradicted the words. His other hand slipped higher under your shirt, cupping your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple in slow, teasing circles that matched the rhythm of his hips. His mouth moved to your collarbone, sucking a mark into the skin, then higher to your jaw, nipping lightly. The shed felt even smaller now, the air thick with the sounds of your mingled breathing. His deep and ragged, yours sharper, catching on every deliberate grind.
He pulled back just enough to look at you again, forehead resting against yours, green eyes burning with raw need. Sweat glistened at his temple, his hair slightly disheveled from the way your free hand had unconsciously tangled in it. His chest heaved against yours, muscles taut under your palm where you pressed against him.
“But you won’t say it,” he murmured, voice a low, slow drawl. “Because you’re not leaving. And neither am I.”
Toji captured your mouth then, not gently. The kiss was rough, claiming, all teeth and tongue and pent-up hunger. His lips moved against yours with dominant pressure, tongue sweeping in to taste you deeply as his hips continued their slow, relentless grind. One hand stayed on your ass, holding you tight against him, the other tangling in your hair to tilt your head exactly how he wanted. He kissed like he fought. Always efficient, overwhelming, and leaving no room for retreat. The hard length of him throbbed against you with every roll, the friction building higher, the heat between you scorching.
When he finally broke the kiss for air, his lips hovered just above yours, breath mingling hot and heavy. His hand on your waist slid lower, fingers teasing the waistband of your pants, dipping just inside to brush bare skin.
“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” he growled, voice rough and edged with that instinctive possessiveness. “All those days… pushing my limits. Now I’m pushing back. And I’m not stopping unless you make me.”
He didn’t wait for words. Instead, he rocked against you again. Slower, deeper, letting you feel exactly how hard he was, how much he wanted this. His mouth found your neck once more, sucking another mark while his fingers explored lower, teasing, promising more. The tension that had started with irritation and stubbornness had finally ignited into something raw, physical, and utterly consuming.
In the dim moonlight of that forgotten shed, Toji Fushiguro wasn’t telling you to stop following anymore.
He was claiming the shadow that had refused to leave his side.
And the night was far from over.
The air inside the shed felt thicker now, heavy with the scent of sweat, wood dust, and the raw, unmistakable musk of arousal that clung to both of you. Moonlight still sliced through the cracked window in thin silver beams, catching on the sheen of sweat along Toji’s collarbone and the faint tremble in your hands where they pressed against his chest. His heartbeat thundered under your palms. Strong, steady, but faster than before, betraying the control he was barely holding onto.
Toji’s forehead rested against yours, his breathing ragged and hot against your lips. The hard, thick length of him still pressed insistently between your thighs, throbbing with every slow rock of his hips that dragged delicious friction through your clothes. His large hands gripped your waist and ass with possessive strength, fingers digging into soft flesh like he needed to anchor himself. The scar at the corner of his mouth was pulled tight, his green eyes dark and half-lidded as they bored into yours.
Neither of you had said the words yet. But the silence spoke volumes.
He shifted his weight, one powerful thigh still wedged firmly between yours, keeping you pinned to the rough wooden wall. Slowly, deliberately, he dragged his hips back just enough to create a sliver of space, then rolled forward again. Deeper this time, grinding the heavy ridge of his cock right against your core with a low, guttural groan that vibrated through his chest into yours.
“Fuck…” The word slipped out rough and broken, his voice even lower than before, slow like molten gravel. “You feel how hard you make me? All that stubborn following… all those nights I could’ve snapped and left you behind. Instead, I kept letting you get closer.”
His hand on your ass squeezed harder, pulling you more firmly onto his thigh while the other slid up your back, under your shirt, palm splaying wide across your bare skin. Calloused fingertips traced the line of your spine, then dipped lower, teasing the waistband of your pants again. He didn’t rush. Every movement was controlled, instinctive, like he was savoring the way your body responded to him. The way your breath hitched, the way your hips instinctively rolled to meet his slow, relentless grinding.
Toji leaned in, capturing your mouth once more in a deep, claiming kiss. His tongue swept in without hesitation, tasting you thoroughly, dominating the kiss with the same rough efficiency he used in everything else. Teeth nipped at your lower lip, then soothed with his tongue. When he pulled back, a thin string of saliva connected your lips for a second before breaking. His eyes flicked down to your swollen mouth, then back up, dark with hunger.
“You’re not my shadow anymore,” he murmured against your lips, voice thick and slow. “Haven’t been for days. You’re with me now. Whether you like it or not.”
The words settled over you like a brand. His hand finally slipped fully inside your pants, large palm cupping you over your underwear, fingers pressing with just enough pressure to make your knees weaken. He rubbed slow, firm circles, feeling the heat and wetness that had built there from all the grinding and tension. A low, satisfied rumble escaped his chest when he felt how soaked you were.
“Wet already,” he growled, lips brushing your ear. “All that tension… all those days of me cornering you, holding you, protecting what’s mine. You’ve been wanting this too, haven’t you? Wanting me to stop telling you to leave and start keeping you close for real.”
He didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your pants and underwear, tugging them down your hips in one smooth motion. The cool night air hit your exposed skin, but it was immediately replaced by the scorching heat of his body as he pressed closer again. Toji’s own pants were shoved down just enough to free himself. His cock springing heavy and thick against your stomach, the head already slick with pre-cum. He was big. Intimidatingly so. Veined and flushed, curving slightly upward, the sheer size of him making your core clench in anticipation.
Toji gripped your thigh with one hand, lifting your leg to hook over his hip, opening you to him. The position left you completely at his mercy, back still pressed to the wall, his broad frame caging you in. He dragged the thick head of his cock through your folds. Slow, teasing, coating himself in your wetness before pressing forward just enough for the tip to nudge at your entrance.
“Last chance,” he rasped, voice rough but his eyes searching yours with surprising intensity. The scar twitched as his mouth curved into a dark, possessive half-smirk. “Tell me to stop. Tell me you’re walking away. Because once I’m inside you… there’s no more following. You’re staying. With me. Where I can keep you safe. Where I can have you whenever I want.”
His free hand came up to cup your jaw, thumb brushing over your bottom lip, smearing the wetness from the kiss. He rocked his hips again, the blunt head of his cock pressing harder against you, stretching you just slightly but not pushing in fully yet. The restraint in his body was palpable. Muscles taut, jaw clenched, every inch of him vibrating with the need to claim you completely.
But he waited.
Because despite the roughness, despite the instinctive possessiveness, this was still Toji. The man who had tested you, pushed you, protected you. He wouldn’t take what you didn’t want to give.
You didn’t tell him to stop.
Instead, your hands slid up his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. Your hips tilted forward in silent invitation.
Toji’s eyes darkened further. A low, feral sound rumbled from deep in his chest.
“Good choice.”
He pushed in slowly, inch by thick inch, stretching you open with a burn that bordered on overwhelming. His cock filled you completely, the heavy weight of him pressing deep until his hips were flush against yours. The groan that tore from his throat was raw, almost pained with how good it felt. He stayed buried to the hilt for a long moment, forehead pressed to yours again, breathing hard as he let you adjust to his size.
“Fuck… so tight,” he muttered, voice strained and slow. “Taking me so well. Like you were made for this. Made for me.”
Then he started moving.
Not fast. Not frantic. Slow, deep rolls of his hips that dragged his cock almost all the way out before sliding back into the hilt. Each thrust was deliberate, powerful, grinding against that spot inside you that made stars burst behind your eyes. His hands gripped your hips hard enough to leave marks, holding you exactly where he wanted you as he fucked you against the wall.
The shed filled with the sounds of skin meeting skin, your mingled moans, and his low, gravelly curses. Toji’s mouth found your neck again, sucking dark marks into the skin while one hand slipped between you to rub firm circles over your clit in time with his thrusts. His thigh muscles flexed with every deep push, the power in his body evident in every controlled movement.
“You’re mine now,” he growled against your throat, teeth grazing your pulse point. “No more games. No more warnings to leave. You stay with me. You follow me because you want to… and because I won’t let you go.”
His pace gradually built. Still deep and thorough, but harder now, the wet slap of his hips against yours growing louder in the small space. Sweat slicked both your bodies, making every slide of skin against skin smoother, hotter. Toji’s free hand tangled in your hair, tilting your head back so he could kiss you again. Messy, desperate, tongues sliding together as he drove into you over and over.
When your walls started fluttering around him, clenching tight, he groaned deeply, the sound vibrating through you.
“That’s it… come for me. Let me feel you.”
The orgasm hit you hard. Waves of pleasure crashing through your body as you cried out against his mouth. Toji fucked you through it, hips never stopping their deep, punishing rhythm, drawing it out until you were trembling and oversensitive in his arms.
Only then did he let himself go.
With a final, guttural groan, he buried himself to the hilt and came hard. Thick, hot pulses filling you as his hips jerked against yours. His arms wrapped around you completely, holding you tight against his chest as he rode out the aftershocks, face buried in the crook of your neck.
For a long time, neither of you moved.
Toji stayed buried inside you, softening slowly, his arms a solid cage around your body. His breathing gradually evened out, but his grip never loosened. When he finally pulled back enough to look at you, his green eyes were softer than you’d ever seen them. Still sharp, still dangerous, but laced with something deeper. Satisfaction. Possession. Quiet acceptance.
He brushed a strand of hair from your sweaty forehead, thumb lingering on your cheek.
“No more ‘don’t follow me,’” he said, voice rough but quiet now. The scar at his mouth curved into the faintest, most genuine smirk you’d seen from him yet. “You’re with me. Wherever I go. Whatever shit I drag you into. You stay close. I protect what’s mine.”
He kissed you again. Slower this time, almost tender in its roughness before carefully lowering your leg and helping you steady yourself. He fixed your clothes with surprising care, then his own, though he kept one arm looped around your waist like he couldn’t quite let go yet.
The shed door creaked open as he pushed it with his shoulder, the cool night air washing over you both. Toji glanced down at you, green eyes glinting in the moonlight.
“Come on. Let’s get out of here. Got a better place in mind for round two.”
He didn’t ask if you were coming.
He already knew you would.
Because you weren’t following anymore.
You were with him.
And Toji Fushiguro had finally stopped fighting it.
Javi Gutierrez x Dave York x AFAB!Reader
Explicit/18+ (Minors DNI please!)
Word Count: 9.5k
Tags: Threesome, MMF, AFAB Reader, Cuck, Cuck Kink, Kink Exploration, p0rn no plot, Sexually Explicit, Edging, Oral sex, Vaginal sex, Birthday smut, Dom/Sub dynamic, Dom Dave, Sub Javi, Established Relationship.
You and Javi always celebrated your joint birthday in style, but this year was slightly different. This year, someone else came to join in on the fun - your neighbour, Dave York.
A/N: This was written with a friend of mine in mind, who shares a birthday with their favourite Pedro character - Javi! For their enjoyment, this reader has they/them pronouns, but they are AFAB 💖
Tumblr Masterlist | A03 Link
You weren't really sure who this was a gift for most. Javi moaned softly, his hand palming his cock through his trousers, as he watched Dave's hands explore every inch of your body. You whimpered as his deft fingers skated across your chest, pinching your nipples hard, and he chuckled to himself at your pathetic reaction.
You and Javi had been married for several years now - you’d first bonded at the fact you both shared the same birthday. On the same night, in the same restaurant, both of your (now) ex-partners failed to show up for your respective birthday dinners. Javi had shrugged at the table next to yours when the waitress asked if the two of you would be continuing to dine alone, and he’d suggested the two of you celebrate together anyway, as “birthday twins”, and to your great surprise you’d hit it off immediately.
Since that night, every year you’d been back to that same restaurant, and had celebrated your birthdays together - last year it being the first time you celebrated it as a married couple. You’d known on that first night Javi was your person for life, so it was the easiest ‘yes’ of your life.
Tonight had been no exception to any other years, but the outcome was rather different to what you could have ever imagined.
When you and Javi had met, you had already been debating splitting up with your partner. There was still so much of life you wanted to experience without them in the picture, for as rude as it sounded - but you knew deep down that they weren’t for you really. Not long term, anyway. One of those things you’d wanted to do was experience a slightly wilder sex life - your partner had been semi-open to some of the things you wanted to try, but had always shut down most of your requests. Not that any of them were overly degrading, violent, or anything of the sort. But they were far more of a “keep it in the bedroom” person, and only ever wanted to rotate the same three positions with you.
One of the kinks you wanted to explore was the idea of being watched - either by your partner while someone else had their way with you, or having someone else watch you and him have sex. You really didn’t mind which. But once you and Javi got together, a connection you couldn’t justify jeopardising for a chance at kink exploration, you let that dream die. You’d been open and spoken to him about it, and Javi had gladly helped you tick off some of the other sexual fantasies you wanted to explore - but for so long now, cuckolding had never been mentioned.
Until tonight.
You almost fell off your chair when he presented this arrangement, under the guise of a birthday gift for you both. He’d found someone he was comfortable with bringing into your marital bed, who would be happy going through with this while also respecting that you and Javi were married - someone he knew would also never turn down the chance at bedding you, either.
Dave York.
For as much as you adored your husband, that didn't mean you were blind to your neighbour, Dave. The two of you had always had eyes for each other, with shared silent glances acting as an unspoken acknowledgement that given the chance you'd absolutely defile one another. Javi never minded the subtle flirting and the sexual jokes - he knew you'd never cross that boundary and cheat on him, and that what you had was special. He was your everything, and you'd never jeopardise what you had.
It turns out Javi had been debating fulfilling this fantasy of yours for some time, but needed to know the other man he was bringing into your bedroom would be the right fit for you both. He wasn’t just going to find someone on a dating app to be a third in your relationship, it needed to be someone he knew you’d also be happy with.
Dave was the perfect choice. He was someone you both knew, and Javi knew you wouldn’t say no to him. It’s why he felt confident asking Dave about the situation before he’d even broached the subject with you - and his suspicions were confirmed that Dave was all too happy to participate, also.
“Never gonna turn down that offer,” he’d said.
Your heart had raced all the way home, a nervous excitement bubbling beneath the surface, ready to spill out any moment. Javi had seemed just as giddy though, with plenty of giggles and playful kisses as he led you up to your bedroom, where Dave was already waiting.
Javi had handed the metaphorical reins over to Dave the second you’d entered the bedroom, happily resigning himself to a plush chair in the corner, next to your vanity table. He watched as Dave hungrily took your lips to his, kissing you so deeply that it made your head spin and momentarily forget that Javi was even in the room with you.
Your eyes caught Javi when Dave broke the kiss, his lips moving to mercilessly attack any skin that was on show. You smiled at Javi who had a look of glee plastered on his face as he leaned back in the seat to watch Dave’s mouth and hands skim across anything you allowed him to access - it was then that you realised you weren't really sure who this was a gift for most. Javi moaned softly, his hand palming his cock through his trousers, as he watched Dave's hands explore every inch of your body. You whimpered as his deft fingers skated across your chest, pinching your nipples hard and taking you by surprise, and he chuckled to himself at your pathetic reaction.
“Look at them, Javi. Whimpering and panting already, and they're still dressed,” Dave chuckled, slowly sliding the strap of your vest and bra down one shoulder. He leant forward and kissed along the newly exposed flesh, working his way up from the edge of your shoulder to the crook of your neck. You sighed in contentment and allowed your eyes to flutter closed for a moment to just feel.
“My love is so responsive,” Javi chuckled, winking at you once you peeled your eyes open again, having closed on instinct from the pleasure. You giggled, and with one arm hooked around Dave, you reached out to Javi with your other. He took your hand and kissed it softly, his deep brown eyes never faltering from yours.
“I'm the luckiest guy in the world,” he said with a gentle smile, before letting go and leaning back in his seat.
“Too fucking right you are,” Dave growled, his teeth now skimming the bare skin he could access. “Get this fuckin’ top off,” he said.
You parted from his body briefly to tear your shirt off over your head, but before you could drop your arms back down he was already on you. Large palms spread out across your back as Dave swiftly unclasped your bra hooks, making the lingerie fall to the ground once you lowered your arms.
“Jesus Christ Javi, how dare you keep these from me?” Dave chuckled, before leaning down and sucking on the peak of one of your breasts. One hand caressed your chest as he sucked slowly, while his other arm snaked back around your waist to keep you firmly pinned against his body. You panted as your bare skin rubbed against Dave’s cotton shirt, sending a tingle through your body as the sensation.
You cursed under your breath as Dave sucked harder, using his teeth in places to make you moan louder. You moved your hands up to his head, letting your fingers tug slightly on the short brown locks. It was worlds away to what you were used to with Javi, whose longer curly hair made it easy to lightly tug at his head. From behind you could hear the faint whimper of Javi as he watched you scratch your nails across Dave’s scalp, a sensation he knew all too well, and something he was yearning for so badly now he was watching you give it to someone else.
Dave groaned in the back of his throat at the sensation, and detached his lips from your skin. His hands flew to the zipper of your trousers and within seconds they were undone and pooling at your ankles. Javi’s breath got caught in the back of his throat as he watched Dave remove your clothes before his very eyes, piece by piece stripping you down to nothing.
Dave turned to look at Javi, and chuckled as he watched him wide eyes stare you up and down. He could see how badly he wanted to have his hands on you, and Dave’s cock twitched in excitement at the fact it was he who was about to have his way with you, for once.
“Tell me not to touch them, Javi. Please,” Dave panted. For as consensual as this arrangement was, Dave loved when things were off-limits to him. While he was married he’d had dozens of affairs, all fuelled by the burning desire of doing something he knew he shouldn’t have. He’d had far less sex since the divorce than when he was married, simply because he was now free to do so, it was less appealing.
“You sure?” Javi asked. He’d play the part of the upset husband if he for a second thought it would heighten anyone’s experience.
“Yes,” Dave nodded, now hooking his fingers around your underwear and dragging it down your legs. You gasped, now stood completely bare, letting Dave manhandle you enough to step out of your trousers. “Please, tell me I need to keep my hands to myself, that they’re not for me. Tell me that you own them,” he moaned, now on his knees in front of you. His lips skated up and down your thighs, and you shuddered in pleasure. Your eyes caught Javi’s and he nodded at you as if to ask if everything was okay. You smiled, nodding back, and he grinned and winked.
“Dave, don’t touch them. That’s my wife !” Javi said, leaning forward on the chair and acting like he was pleading with Dave. A surge of heat rushed to your cheeks at Javi’s words, and you felt your core get wetter at the fantasy of being defiled while your husband pleaded for it not to happen.
Dave looked up at you and watched as your breathing sped up, with slick beginning to pool between your legs. He grunted and couldn’t hold back, kneeling up just enough to swipe his tongue through your folds, bumping your clit and sending shockwaves through you. You moaned, grabbing Dave’s hair again, and pushing him back between your legs. He chuckled as he stuck out his tongue and went to taste you again.
Javi unfastened his trousers, needing to seek some relief as he watched Dave softly lap away at your cunt. He watched as your legs shake around his head, barely able to keep yourself standing while Dave fucked you with his tongue. The sounds of your whimpers had pre-cum leaking from the tip of his cock, and once his trousers were unfastened he gently began to stroke himself for some relief.
“You like how they taste?” Javi asked.
“So fuckin’ sweet,” Dave said, “Might be round here more, Javi. Now I know what a beautiful cunt your wife has, I ain’t sure I’ll be able to stay away.”
“You better keep your hands off them,” Javi snarled, and you whined at the twinge of jealousy in his voice. You didn’t care if he was putting it on to edge the three of you all on further, or if there was a part of him that actually was a little bit envious of Dave, but the outcome was much the same. Dave’s fingers dug into your thighs a little harder as he kept you stabilised while your legs shook from the pleasure.
“Javi,” you whined, your eyes closed as Dave drew circles around your clit with his tongue. But at the mention of your husband’s name, Dave grunted, and retracted immediately, standing up.
His hand shot up to your jaw, and strong finger tips grabbed you and snapped your head towards him. Your eyes darted open to be met with his staring back at you, dark brown and swirling with lust. His chin glistened slightly with your slick, and he licked his lips subtly as he started you down. Anger pierced through you as he anchored you to his body again, still shaking slightly from the pleasure.
“I don’t wanna hear his name on your lips, doll. You got that? He’s just here to watch, aren’t you Javi?” Dave asked, although he never turned away to explicitly ask the question. He kept his eyes pinned on yours, holding your gaze firm as his hands began to wander across your body again.
“He’s right, flower. I’m not here,” Javi said.
“See? Just me and you, doll. I only wanna hear you say Dave, do you understand?” he snarled. Your cheeks burned with lust and you so desperately wanted to do away with Dave’s clothes. Knowing that Javi was sitting watching toying with himself as the two of you explored one another had lit a fire beneath you and now you didn’t want to put it out.
“Yes, sir,” you said obediently, your voice cracking slightly as you tentatively reached forward and began to unfasten Dave’s shirt buttons.
He grunted at the term you used, his eyes screwing up as he composed himself. He was rock hard already, and wanted to spend longer teasing you, and edging Javi, before he allowed himself to commit to you in bed. But if you kept it up, he wouldn’t last another second before having his way with you.
Javi clocked Dave’s reaction and smirked, knowing what it was doing to his friend. He stood up slowly and wandered across to the both of you. He wasn’t trying to get involved just yet, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try and encourage that reaction again.
You felt the warmth of Javi’s hands skate across your hips as he went to stand behind you, followed by a series of hot kisses across the back of your shoulders and neck. You whimpered again, your skin feeling like it was on fire and so desperately needing some kind of relief, in any form. Javi chuckled, and you felt the vibration in his chest across your back as he pushed into you, his cock pressing against your bare ass.
“I think Dave quite liked you calling him that, do amorcito ,” he whispered in the shell of your ear, gently nibbling the lobe. “Say it again.”
“ Sir,” you breathed. Dave’s eyes snapped open again at the term, his ability to withhold himself slowly wavering. He let you continue to remove his clothing, letting go of you gently to work on his trousers.
“ Call me that once more, doll, and see what happens,” he said, hot breath skating across your chest as he peppered kisses against your skin while he fiddled with his belt clasp. You grinned down at him and giggled, not wanting to play around any more. You needed more, and you needed it now.
“ Sir ,” you teased, the word barely a whisper on your lips as you spoke out into the room. Dave chuckled as his belt clasp came undone, the clanging of the metal in the otherwise silent room ricocheting out.
“Javi, touch them,” Dave said, now working on slipping his belt out of the loops. “I want them so close to the edge that they’ll be begging for one of us to fuck them”.
Javi chuckled to himself at Dave’s request, pleased that he was being given an opportunity to get involved already. He’d happily sit by and watch Dave have his way for you for some time, but he couldn’t deny the ache in his trousers at not being able to take you.
His hand skimmed from your hip and across your ass, squeezing the supple flesh there on the way. You whined at the feeling of his firm grasp on your body, the way in which he moved showing that he knew you so intimately that every touch was calculated to drive you insane.
You watched Dave intently as you felt Javi work his way around your body, touching and squeezing you, each grab being firmer than the last. Dave had let his shirt slide off his body now, and the belt you’d heard him undo was now in his hand firmly. Your eyes widened when you saw his fingers flex around the leather, your mind wandering to the possibility of what he could do with that belt.
Dave chuckled at you, your eyes watching every miniscule movement he did while Javi dipped his hand between your legs. You felt one of his thick fingers slide between your entrance, collecting some slick that Dave had helped you produce, and at the contact with your clit your body almost buckled. Your hips jutted back, pushing your ass further into Javi, and your body fell forward to almost bend you in half.
“Steady on, sweet thing,” Dave said, keeping his eyes firmly on yours. Javi steadied your body by gripping your hip harder with the other hand, but didn’t slow off in his venture to keep touching you. He slid one of his fingers into your tight cunt and began working away at you, all the while stopping you from bending forward much more. He whimpered in pleasure at how you clenched around his fingers, your muscles already fluttering in anticipation for more, a clear sign your body was begging to be used.
“If they bend over any more I’ll have to put my cock in their mouth as punishment,” Dave said, reaching forward and grabbing your neck with his free hand. He put some pressure on your throat as he used his hand to push you back up, making you stand up straight and being flush against your husband while he fucked you with his finger. Javi moaned softly in the back of his throat at how Dave manhandled you, not missing the fact his finger became wetter with your slick after he’d laid his hands on you.
“You gonna waste your chance to have your way with my wife by fucking her mouth?” Javi taunted, slowly introducing a second finger inside of you. Your eyes screwed up and your hands reached out and grabbed Dave’s forearm. He hissed as your nails scratched him hard, the agony of still standing while you were almost ready to completely fall apart being too much for you.
“Oh, absolutely not,” Dave chuckled, his fingertips pressing down on the column of your neck a bit harder, “Gonna ruin that pussy instead.”
“Fuck,” Javi whined, his cock now even harder as he worked away at you, enjoying the way Dave described what he was going to do to you. Dave’s hand dropped from your neck and went to unfastening his trousers, his gaze still never leaving yours.
“You gonna watch me ruin your wife, Javi?” Dave snarled. Javi planted kisses on your shoulder, his teeth softly biting you in places.
“I will. Want my love to be satisfied,” he said.
“I think they will be more than satisfied on my cock,” Dave began, his trousers now unfastened and sliding down his legs. You whimpered as you looked at him, fully erect and leaking from the tip slightly. It looked heavy, like he needed some instant relief, and at the sight of it your mouth filled with saliva. It was almost embarrassing how much you wanted him on your tongue, to feel the size of him fill your mouth, to have him gag you with the size alone.
“What do you think, doll? Do you want this dick?” he snarled, stepping out of his trousers and gripping the back of his cock. “I think I’m bigger than you, Javi. Think they’ll manage it?”.
Javi chuckled in your ear as he sped up the pace of his fingers fucking up into you - by now your slick had coated his hand almost entirely, going as far to get his shirt cuffs a bit wet. He was almost a bit jealous at how positively you were responding to this whole ordeal; this was easily the wettest he'd ever felt you. The sound of your slick surrounding his fingers filled the entire room, and both the men groaned under their breath at the noise.
“Absolutely,” he smirked, eventually pulling his fingers out of you. You panted ragged breaths out as you began to calm down, your cunt clenching around nothing as your body yearned for his touch already.
Javi kept you pinned to his chest, and you felt the vibration in his chest again as he chuckled to himself at his slick coated fingers. He brought his arm around your body, his hand now before your very eyes, and you felt your face burn in embarrassment at how much of a mess you'd already made.
“Fuckin’ hell,” Dave chuckled. “You weren't joking, Javi”.
“I'd say my wife is all ready for you,” he winked, then dug his hand into your hip a little harder. “But first, I need cleaning up”.
Dave smirked and reached forward for you again, his hand going back to settle on your jaw. His fingertips found a soft pressure point under the bone which made you drop your mouth open with a slight whimper. Your cunt throbbed and your cheeks burned hotter at the feeling, and the knowledge that Dave had clearly done that before.
“Open wide, slut,” Dave said, and you complied. Javi dipped his fingers in your mouth and watched from behind as you closed your lips around them, slowly sucking off the slick that coated them. He smirked as you licked them clean, your lips making a popping sound as he released his fingers from your warm, wet mouth. The taste of you filled your mouth, an unfamiliar feeling, but you weren’t opposed to it - and seeing Dave’s eyes blow up in sheer delight made it so very worthwhile.
“Dirty whore,” he whispered as he rolled his belt up in his hand, shortening the length of it. “Put them on the bed for me.”
Javi planted a soft kiss to the back of your neck before he grabbed your body and hauled you over towards your bed. Pushing down on your hips, he forced your hips to jutt backwards, bending you forwards. As you leant over, Javi guided your hands to the soft mattress, and before you knew it you were bare for both men, bent over the bed for all to see.
“Gorgeous,” Dave whispered, now toying with the leather of the belt. He stepped closer to you, and you felt the belt make contact with your ass. He gently ran the leather over your supple flesh, not striking you yet, but giving you an idea of what was to inevitable come.
“Doll, is anything off limits, before I start?” Dave asked.
“Only anal,” you said, then chuckled under your breath. “Unless I can stick something in your ass first, nothing of yours is going in mine”.
It was a jokey rule you’d set when you were in college, but you’d found it had actually stuck. You weren’t against the act itself, but you had found that you’d stood by your condition before ever going through with it, igniting a more dominant side of you that had for so long been buried.
“Is that so?” Dave asked, chuckling to himself in amusement. Javi smirked, sitting back down in his seat to watch Dave tease you.
“Yep. Learned that the hard way,” Javi laughed to himself, and you could hardly hold back a snigger at that.
Dave smirked over at Javi, his mind briefly wandering to the thought of how that would have come about between the two of you - and, more so, what you’d ended up doing with Javi. Dave had never really questioned his sexuality, but the idea of you dominating Javi set off a spark of intrigue that was difficult to ignore. Perhaps that wasn’t an exploration for tonight, but he’d perhaps not be so crude as to ignore such an urge if it were to present itself in future.
“Alright, noted,” Dave said, turning his attention back to you. He continued to let the leather of his belt skim over your skin, sending small shockwaves through your body. He watched as goosebumps littered your skin, wandering all the way from the base of your spine to the nape of your neck.
You sighed in contentment at the feeling, the chill of the leather a stark contrast to the heat that continued to rip through you. Dave let you acclimate to the sensation, one of his hands coming to rest upon your lower back as he continued to let himself tease and caress you with his belt. The heat from his hand seeped into your skin, grounding you and making you feel oddly at ease, until-
*thwack*
“Fuck!” you yelled. In one swift movement Dave had struck your ass with his belt, leaving behind a bright red mark in the centre of your cheek and a tingling sensation. You felt your arms already go a little weak after having been whipped, but you didn’t have any respite before-
*THWACK*
Harder this time, and on the same spot. You whimpered and scrunched up the duvet as Dave made contact with your ass again, and again, and again. His free hand began exploring your lower body, with one hand now firmly grasping your hips to stabilise you as he continued to whip and degrade you. He grunted with each contact, satisfied every time he heard you cry out his name, and with each patch of skin that grew redder, it excited him more.
Javi shifted in his seat, now so hard again that he couldn’t get comfortable in his chair. His cock grew painfully hard and he resigned himself to slowly touching himself - languid strokes up and down the shaft, focusing on the head to try and alleviate some tension. A bead of pre-cum that dripped down over his fingers was the only lubrication he had after you’d completely licked his hand clean of any slick.
He’d spanked you before, but never like this - never with anything like a belt. A fire burnt deep in his abdomen, a mix of jealousy and arousal, as he watched Dave repeatedly strike your skin with his belt. Each time he made contact you moaned louder and louder, your back arching more and your ass sticking out further for him. There wasn’t a shred of doubt in his mind as to if you were enjoying this, and eventually he began to tug his cock a bit faster.
Every time Dave hit your ass was like being set on fire - a rush of heat and a discernible shiver would rip through your body, making you cry out into the bedroom. Your knuckles were already sore, white from how hard you were gripping onto the bed sheets, bunching up as much material as possible so that you could cling on for what felt like dear life.
“Fuck, you take this shit so well. Is this how well you’re gonna take me?” Dave asked, punctuating his sentence with one final whack of your ass, but this time with his hand. Your whole body shuddered, your ass red and sore from the whipping, but yet it was the most pleasurable pain imaginable.
“Yes, Dave, I will,” you said, almost sounding like you were pleading with how much your voice was accompanied by whimpers.
“Dave?” Javi said, “Call him sir, do amorcito. Can’t forget to behave, can we?”.
“ Shit ,” you whined, “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir,” you said.
“Good little whore ,” Dave said, dropping his belt to the floor and grabbing your hips with both hands. “Call me that once more and I’m gonna shove this cock so deep inside of you you’ll forget that you’re even fuckin’ married.”
You grinned, your mind already delirious and your breathing stammering before either one of the guys had even started fucking you. The mess you’d be in after was something you were absolutely not prepared for, but that didn’t stop you from edging Dave closer to you being able to find out.
“Yes, sir ,” you breathed.
Javi grinned as he heard you say the words that sealed your fate - he knew how much you would enjoy this evening, but he had never anticipated he could enjoy it so much. He looked down at his fist to see spurts of pre-cum beginning to spill out at a faster rate, thicker and starting to coat the back of his hand. He wanted nothing more than to fuck you senseless into the mattress, but watching someone else have their way with you was like a whole new realm of pleasure that he had never experienced before.
“Get here,” Dave snapped, pulling your hips back into him. His cock grinded against your molten core, coating him with your slick in preparation. Dave turned to quickly look at Javi, winking over at him, satisfied that he was enjoying this as much as you were. His eyes were wide as he stared at you, his wife, bent over and ready for another man. He noticed the glistening spurts of pre-cum leaking down across his fist, and Dave’s cock twitched in excitement, as Javi’s presence reminded him of how off limits you technically were.
“Any objections?” he asked Javi, all the while he was swiping the head of his cock through your slit. A series of broken moans and staggered breaths came from you each time he nudged your swollen clit, small cries leaving your body that could only be satisfied with one thing.
“Be gentle with them,” Javi panted out, fucking his fist a little harder. Dave smirked as he found your soaking wet entrance, and began to push inside.
“No”.
Dave’s hips snapped forward, while simultaneously he gripped your hips harder to pull you further down the length of his cock. Your torso collapsed forward onto the bed, your screams being muffled by the duvet beneath you, and you could hear the gentle rumble of laughter from Dave, mixed with satisfied moans.
“Fuckin’ hell, you’re so tight,” he groaned, his eyes screwing up as he pushed himself further to the point where he couldn’t get any deeper. He looked down as he gently rocked his hips into you, seeing how your puffy lips stretched around his length.
“Come take a look at this, Javi,” he said, his eyes staying firmly attached to the sight as he picked up the pace, his breathing turning into a pant as he watched you stretch and relax around his cock, a slight quiver to your body which he thrust of his hips. His mind raced at how tight you’d be had Javi not warmed you up and stretched you out with his fingers.
Javi stood up, his hand still firmly wrapped around his fist as he approached the two of you. Each time he heard your muffled moans into the bed sheets he felt himself grow hotter and hotter with the desire to do something, anything , to your body. All he could do for now was continue to play with himself as he watched Dave pick up the pace and rut into you.
He reached Dave’s side and moaned as he watched from up close as Dave fucked you raw - his cock was already coated in your slick, practically dripping in some places from how pent up you were. He felt his balls throb and pull upwards at the sight, a surge of pleasure ripping through him.
“A pretty little sight, ain’t they?” Dave said, his thrusts long and timed perfectly to drive you wild, never giving you enough time to collect yourself between each snap of his hips. Javi grinned to himself as he continued tp watch Dave fuck into you, his fist curling around the length of his cock harder as he kept jerking himself off.
“They are the most beautiful thing I’ve had the pleasure of bedding, Dave. Enjoy that tight little cunt,” he chuckled, then moved around the bed to where your head lay surrounded by bedding, muffling your cries. Dave watched now as Javi moved around the bed, almost like he was surveying you. He leant forward, stilling his hips for a moment so he could slot himself in as deep as possible now, and with one hand he reached forward and grabbed your head by the hair.
“Look at your husband, slut. Look what you’re making him witness,” Dave snarled, his hips rocked forward into you deeper than you could have ever imagined. While Javi was definitely longer than Dave, the girth of his cock had you stretching out in ways you’d never before felt, especially this deep. Shockwaves ricocheted through your body as you angled yourself up to look at Javi, feeling how your sensitive cunt tightened around Dave at the new angle.
“How does Dave feel?” Javi asked, sitting on the bed in front of you. You nodded, finding it hard to fully comprehend the words you needed right now. Dave felt foreign, but in a good way. The unfamiliar strain was something you wanted to get used to, something you knew you’d miss the second this was all over.
“So fucking good,” you whined, again, as Dave withdrew his hips slightly so he could start rocking his hips back and forth inside of you. He let go of your hair now that he was happy you were looking at Javi, keeping eye contact with him as Dave sent you to the edge and back. He hoped Javi could see reflected in your blown out pupils and glassy eyes how fucked up you already were.
“Is he better than me?” Javi asked, a subtle wink signalling he was happy to revert back to playing the role of the pathetic husband. Your voice cracked when you opened your mouth, momentarily unable to speak as Dave continued his assault between your legs - the hand which had gripped your hair now dipped between your thighs, and set to work ruinously rubbing at your clit.
“Y-yes,” you stammered out eventually, before you felt your face contort and a loud cry rip through your chest. Dave began pinching your swollen clit, piling on even more pressure to the sensitive area with every thrust. Your body began to convulse under his grip, and you so desperately wanted to collapse into the bed while he continued to have his way with you, screaming until your throat grew hoarse.
Javi had other ideas.
He let go of his cock and moved his hands up to your upper body - he placed one on your ribs, supporting you from underneath, and the other just under your jaw, allowing you to both rest your head and also continue to look at him. Hot breath got mixed in the narrow space between you, and soon Javi’s lips were on your fiercely, drinking you in as he felt your body move and shake under his grip due to the sheer force of Dave.
A searing heat ripped through you as you began to come undone for the two men - two pairs of strong hands laid on your body, Dave’s cock throbbing inside of you, and Javi’s lips devouring yours. It was all too much. You screamed as best you could manage, and accidentally bit Javi’s lip in the process. He pulled back, wincing slightly, but the pain was very quickly replaced with the pleasure of realising that you were seeing stars because of Dave.
Dave grunted as he let go of your clit, speeding up his thrusts as he felt you clamp down on his cock, your body seemingly begging for more with each powerful snap of his hips. Javi peppered kisses and small tugs from his teeth across your jaw and down your neck, still firmly holding you in place as you yelled out into the room, your orgasm tearing through you.
“You’re so good for us, mi vida ,” Javi whispered into the shell of your ear, his teeth leaving marks on the lobes. “You’re taking him so well.”
You could barely comprehend what Javi was saying now, let alone compute enough words to respond. Your orgasm continued going, with Dave never letting up enough to let you calm down. With every thrust he delivered you continued to cum more and more all over him, and by now Dave’s balls were wet with your slick.
Dave knew if he kept up like this he’d bust his own load too quickly, and the longer this arrangement went on the more he realised he enjoyed someone watching him have sex. In spite of how fucking good it felt to have you flutter around his cock repeatedly on account of your prolonged orgasm, he began to let up the pace.
A momentary relief washed over you as Dave slowed off, but as his movements became reduced to a much more gentle rocking of the hips, you realised how little you wanted gentleness. After the rough pounding he’d just delivered to you, the last thing you wanted was to go slow.
“Sir, please, I need more,” you found yourself shamefully saying. Javi smirked as you spoke, his hands wandering across your upper body to caress you everywhere he could access, focusing a lot on your sensitive nipples.
“So needy,” Dave said, landing a spank to your still-sore ass cheek, then complying with your request by fucking into you harder again. “This bitch needs to shut up,” Dave snarled, pulling your head back by grabbing a fistful of hair again.
“Suck his cock,” Dave demanded.
Javi moved on the bed so that he was sitting with his legs spread wide either side of your body, leaning back on his elbows. Still mainly dressed, he undid just enough of his trouser zipper so that he wouldn’t risk anything getting trapped, and then manoeuvred himself in line with your lips. Dave let go of your hair so that you could lean back over. It took most of your strength to be able to gently lower yourself to Javi’s level with how hard Dave was hammering into you again - he was treating you like a rag doll, but yet you absolutely adored it.
Your lips made contact with the head of Javi’s cock, and you moaned softly as the taste of his pre-cum quickly coated the tip of your tongue. It was a taste you would never bore of, something you just couldn’t get enough of - and yet it was something you rarely did. Javi always much preferred to make you come from his tongue and then make you see heaven with the snap of his hips, rather than to be given oral.
But today, he wasn’t saying no.
He moaned and tipped his head back on instinct as he felt your lips wrap around the head of his swollen cock, your tongue gliding over the slit and cleaning up the mess he’d already begun to make. You hummed in contentment at the taste and sent vibrations surging through Javi’s body, making him quiver under your touch. He tilted his head down to see you start to take more of him in your mouth, and subconsciously Javi began moving his hips.
Dave could see how needy and desperate Javi was, wanting to do more but also not wanting to compromise watching this unfold. Still hammering into you, Dave reached forward and grabbed your hair again, and very gently pushed your head down. You gagged slightly, but Dave wasn’t pushing you so hard that you couldn’t back up a little bit - it was just enough though that you got the message, and chuckled to yourself as you took Javi as deep as you could manage.
Javi’s cock was almost hitting the back of your throat at the same rhythm to each time Dave thrust into you, and everything about this was too much but simultaneously exactly what you wanted. You loved feeling full, you loved feeling used . Javi moaned loud as you began to suck, the entire length of his cock now firmly in your mouth, the head beginning to slip down your throat.
Javi screwed up his eyes for a moment, allowing him to get lost in the feeling of your warm, wet mouth. Your lips perfectly ran up and down the length of his cock, occasionally managing to touch the very base of him. You swallowed every drop of pre-cum which came from Javi, the salty taste making you moan and yearn for more.
“Fuck, Javi,” Dave grunted, grabbing you by the shoulders and pulling you up, knowing he was going to combust if he watched you do that any longer. Your lips left Javi’s cock with a popping sound, and you grabbed onto Dave’s forearms that now encircled your body. Nails digging into his flesh, he held you tight against him.
“What’s up?” Javi asked, standing up off the bed.
“I need to see them cum. I need them on their back,” Dave said, before letting you go and slipping out of you. On weak legs, you collapsed forward, but had no time to regain composure before Dave’s hands were firmly grasping your hips and flipping you onto your back.
“Open your legs, mi vida ,” Javi said, now standing beside you. He returned to working away at his own cock again, his fist sliding up and down the length of it, occasional twitches showing you how close he was now.
You complied, laying back into the mattress and spreading your legs for Dave, who happily slotted his hips between your thighs. You looked down at him, the first time you’d properly looked at him since he’d started taking you roughly, and your cunt throbbed just looking at him. His cock was leaking already, and his torso was covered in a fine layer of sweat. In stark contrast to your husband, who was still fully clothed, you got to properly admire every inch of Dave’s body. He wasn’t as slim as your Javi, but you could tell he’d had a job in the past that required him to be strong enough to handle himself.
Being the in-law of Lucas Gutierrez, you weren’t a stranger to hit men and gang members. You’d seen enough of them coming and going over the years that you could spot someone out in a lineup as being part of something more sinister. Dave fit the bill perfectly, and while that might have terrified you at some point, there was an element of you that got a little power trip from knowing you were bedding someone in the same dangerous circles as Javi’s cousin.
“Touch them,” Dave said, edging forwards to slip back inside of you. The new angle had you yelling out again, your back arching and your shoulders digging into the mattress beneath you. Dave only smirked as he watched you writhe around underneath him, and deliberately stayed on his knees so as not to obscure the view from Javi. He wanted him to see you react this way to his touch.
Javi groaned as he watched you react to Dave again, your breasts heaving as you panted out ragged breaths. He could feel he was getting closer with every passing second that he watched you get fucked by Dave, but he’d be damned if he didn’t try and push you to the edge himself before he got his release.
Still fucking his fist with one hand, Javi reached between your thighs and began rubbing circles on your clit with the other hand. They were messy and rushed on account of how close he was, his own jerks of his fist faltering the longer he kept watching and touching you. Your hands bunched into the bed sheets below as you felt yourself hurtling towards another orgasm already, your body still slightly spent from the last one.
“Javi,” you whined, one hand reaching forward to grab the edge of his shirt, tugging hard onto the material as your body got hotter, and hotter.
Dave didn’t even care anymore that you’d stopped paying much attention to him. He smirked as he watched you cling onto your husband for dear life, every muscle in your body slowly locking up as you got higher and higher, closer to your peak, every touch Javi gave you and every thrust Dave delivered pushing you towards the edge.
You gripped Javi’s shirt so hard it tore the seams slightly.
“Fuck!” you yelled, your skin feeling like someone had doused you in oil and set you alight with a match. The burn that ran up and down your skin was like nothing you had ever experienced before in your life. White flashed behind your eyes as you screwed them up and let every muscle in your body snap, and soon the sounds of your own cries got lost in the haze of your delight.
“Oh my G-,” Javi stammered, his balls pulling up and tightening as he watched you writhe around screaming on Dave’s cock. He released his hand from your clit so he could stabilise himself as he fucked his fist as hard and as fast as he could, now nearing the edge of his own peak. Dave continued his pace on you, not far off himself now, but decided to give Javi a helping hand.
A firm spank landed on Javi’s ass, and Dave chuckled as he then wrapped one arm around the man’s waist, stopping him from falling forward as he chased his high. Javi smirked as his head dropped back in pleasure, the sound of your cries and the feeling of Dave’s strong hands on his body being all he needed to get closer, and closer…
“Cum on them, please ,” Dave whispered as his hips continued to snap into you.
You finally peeled your eyes open, your body still stuttering under Dave’s hold, but the loss of one of his hands made you pay attention. You saw Dave egging Javi on, and recognised in your husband the familiar look of being so close to finishing, and suddenly all that heat returned to your body.
This wasn’t part of the arrangement, but you knew what would get Javi to finish. It would also probably send you reeling over the edge again.
“Dave,” you whined, the air still being pushed out of your lungs with every thrust he gave you, “Kiss his neck, please.”
Dave smirked down at you and then turned to Javi. His eyes were screwed shut, his movements were erratic, and his curls were beginning to flop across his face. He looked like he was just tethering on the brink of desire, and something about how needy and desperate Javi looked stirred something deep within Dave.
So, he complied.
Dave slowed off his pace on you and tightened his hold on Javi, then leant forward to tenderly kiss the column of his neck. The kisses were firm, with a slight contact of teeth on some occasions, and to Dave’s great surprise he loved doing it. The taste of sweat from Javi’s skin peppered his lips and made him hungry for more - that, and the combination of how you reacted and the sounds Javi made in response.
Your cunt tensed and fluttered around Dave as you watched him tenderly kiss your husband’s neck, going so far as to leave small bruises in his wake. The pair of you watched as the feeling sent Javi to the edge, his moans growing louder the more Dave kissed him, until eventually he snapped.
Curiosity got the better of him. Dave moved his lips up Javi’s neck, reaching his jaw, and skimming past the sharp bone to place his lips on his. Javi whined as their lips made contact, and he never questioned Dave’s advances, choosing to open his mouth and let Dave in. With his free arm, he wrapped it around Dave, keeping him close to his body as they experienced a kiss with one another for the first time, all the while Javi began spirting ropes of cum across your body.
It was a quick kiss, but you couldn’t hold back a grin of sheer delight at the sight of it. Javi had always been open to exploring more, but had never brought the idea up since you first knew of it - seeing him to open, and so reciprocating of another man’s touch, excited you for the possibilities this could open the two of you up to.
Dave only broke their kiss when he felt the guttural moan rumble in the back of Javi’s throat, and instantly he knew why. He turned to watch as Javi came hard across you, his fingers glistening as he released all he had to give.
“Fuck, Javi, that’s so hot,” Dave growled, watching as Javi painted your bare skin, “Look at you, you slut. Covered in your husband’s cum,” he chuckled, his eyes now focused back on you.
Javi sank back onto his knees once he was spent, his arm dropping from Dave as he relaxed onto the mattress. It was very rare that Javi came from masturbating anymore, the two of you tending to one another more often than not, but it was the most intense he’d cum from his own hand in years .
Dave also released Javi from his hold, and leant over you a little more. He was close to his peak too, and now that Javi and you had had your highs, he didn’t care about making it so Javi could watch any more. He wanted to devour you, fuck you brutally until you were screaming his name as loud as you needed to, finally chase his own pleasure.
He didn’t want to hold back anymore.
“I’m gonna mark this pussy as mine, Javi,” Dave moaned as he shrouded your body with his own, pinning you down to the bed as his hips snapped forward roughly. Javi moaned pathetically as he watched a switch in Dave’s brain flick, and now he bore witness to a new side of him - a side that wanted to ruin you.
“No, please , Dave. Cum anywhere, just not inside of them,” Javi fake-pleaded, reverting back to tapping into Dave’s desire to have this arrangement feel like Javi didn’t want it. You grinned and wrapped your arms around Dave as he began rutting into you, the sound of your skin slapping together with Javi’s cum between the two of you making Dave even harder.
“Can I?” Dave whispered into your ear, double checking he had consent before completely ruining you. You smiled, whispering back a “yes”, then lay back into the mattress with your legs spread further.
“Good,” you heard Dave mumble, before his hands were underneath your ass. He tilted your hips up, and at the new angle he began hammering into you like it was his last day on this earth.
Even though you were completely spent, that didn’t mean you could control the screams and cries Dave made you produce. He was ruthless when he needed to be, and the strength in wish he was pounding into you reminded you again of his line of work. For a fleeting second you fantasised about roleplaying with Dave, acting like you didn’t want this, but you weren’t entirely sure he’d want to change things up so far into this. Instead you just spread your legs even further.
“Use me, sir . Please…,” you whined, your hands hooked around the back of your knees to spread yourself wider. Dave groaned into the crook of your neck as he kept hammering into you, the sound of your soaking wet cunt covering his cock filling the room, drowning out the pleas of Javi asking Dave not to cum inside of you.
“Yeah? Want me to fill you up, doll?” he snarled, his teeth leaving marks across your neck and shoulder.
“ Please ,” you begged. Dave snapped his hips into you as hard as he could with each plea you gave him, encouraged by Javi in his other ear making him feel like this was far more taboo than it really was.
“Don’t do it, Dave. Don’t cum inside them, please !” he cried, but watching how his cock grew harder again already it made it difficult for you to believe his act. You winked up at Javi as Dave kept his head buried in the crook of your neck.
“You gonna watch him cum inside of me, mi vida ?” you teased, and Javi nodded, almost excitedly. He moved to the edge of the bed and watched as Dave withdrew his hips for the final few times, each new thrust now getting slower and more powerful.
“Tell me to stop, Javi, tell me I’m not allowed,” Dave said, pulling his head out from the crook of your neck and panting. Sweat littered his brow and his short brown hair stuck to his forehead as he chased his high, needing one final push to send him over the edge.
“You’re not allowed to cum, Dave. This has gone too far, get out so that I can fuck my own wife,” Javi said, his hand jerking his cock again.
That was all Dave needed .
His hips stammered a bit, his rhythm finally faltering for the first time this evening. You watched as his eyes screwed up and his mouth dropped open, followed closely by a loud groan as he filled you up. His hard thrusts continued through his orgasm, still being encouraged from the sidelines by Javi shouting “No!” repeatedly.
“Take it,” Dave breathed, his hips slowing off slightly as he finished emptying himself inside of you. You could feel every time Dave throbbed within your walls, his cock now completely spent from fucking you roughly. You felt so full .
“I just marked your wife,” Dave chuckled. He pulled out and watched as a stream of his cum flowed out from your cunt. “If you don’t want my cum in there, then you best set to cleaning up”.
Javi dropped to his knees in front of you, feeling a little territorial for the first time that evening. His hands landed on your inner thighs and he pushed your legs apart, watching slowly as streams of Dave’s cum dripped from your entrance, you puffy lips pushing the cum out with each time they throbbed, your body still recovering from how hard Dave just fucked you.
“What did he do to you, my love?” Javi said.
Javi forced his tongue inside of your pussy, hooking it up slowly to begin lapping away at your core. Dave’s cum flowed down his tongue and into his own mouth, and he groaned at the taste of the two of you mixed together. Soon he was devouring you, eating your pussy until you cried out again.
Dave watched as Javi ate you out, cleaning up after the mess he’d just made. With neither of you paying him much heed, he set to grabbing his clothes, slowly beginning to redress. Javi swallowed all that he could until there was no longer the taste of Dave there, and he looked up at you all dazed before he kept going, sensing that you were getting more aroused again with every second he was down there.
“I’ll happily make you see stars again, if you’re not too sore?” he asked, planting a kiss to your inner thigh. You smiled, nodding at him, but then your eyes caught Dave moving around the room - he was now almost entirely dressed, and yet neither of you had noticed.
“Where are you going?” you queried. Dave stopped to look at you, smiling sweetly.
“It’s your guy’s birthday. I imagine there are still some things that a husband and wife would want to do without the presence of their third,” Dave chuckled, approaching you both. He leant down and gave you a tender kiss, and then did the same with Javi, tugging gently on his tousled curls.
“You don’t have to go?” Javi said softly, his lips lingering on Dave’s a little. Dave smiled.
“No, I know that, but I want to give you two some time together. But seriously, thank you for tonight,” he said, standing up to finish putting his clothes on. You looked down at Javi and smirked, and he winked up at you, nodding - not needed to even exchange words, you both knew that there was one question on both of your minds.
“Hey, Dave?” you said, just as he got to your bedroom door to let himself out. He stopped in his tracks, turning back to look at you both.
“Yeah, doll?”.
“Let’s do this again sometime?” you smirked. Dave chuckled, nodding to himself before winking at you both.
“I should hope so. Happy birthday, you two. I’ll see you around.”
Dave let himself out of your room, and closed the door behind him. You turned to Javi, still with his lips mere inches from your cunt, and smiled down at him.
“Happy birthday, Javi. Thank you for my gift,” you smiled. Javi kissed your thighs tenderly, his eyes sparkling up at you in adoration.
