Adult Content

Kate | 30s | She/Her My blog contains work of dark fiction, these are all clearly labelled in my Masterlist. It goes without saying that I do not condone SA of any kind in real life. Please heed the tags and make sure you are protecting yourselves.

[tateypots]

Masterlist

Key: ❤️ smut, 🖤 dark (involving reader), 💛 fluff, 🩶 darker themes (not involving reader), 🩷 smut lite (brief descriptions or sexual thoughts)

Taglists:

I Want It All (the everything taglist)

Keep It Light (the nothing dark here taglist)

Series

In Need Of A Top Up ❤️💛(mini series, complete) - Joel can’t keep his hands off you on your wedding day. Or after.

To Keep You Safe ❤️🩶💛(series, ongoing) - Joel returns to Jackson after being missing for a week with information that leads to a dangerous mission.

Collared ❤️🖤 (series, ongoing) - Non-con, you are kidnapped by Joel and Tommy.

To Be Your First ❤️🖤 (mini series, complete) - Non-con, someone takes advantage of you when you get drunk at a party. (Joel Miller).

Lead Me Not Into Temptation ❤️🖤 (ongoing) - Corruption kink Joel Miller

Raiders Rescue ❤️🖤 (mini series, ongoing) - Dub-con, Joel takes drastic action to protect you when your town is attacked by the group of raiders he’s with.

His Favourite Holiday ❤️🖤(mini-series, hiatus) - Non-con, ghost!Joel loves Halloween.

The Party ❤️🖤 (mini series, ongoing) - Non-con, stepcest. A collection of stories about a very dysfunctional family.

Wingman ❤️💛(series, ongoing) - you meet Frankie at a bar and he quickly establishes himself as the sweetest man (with the filthiest tendencies).

Baby Mine ❤️🖤 (mini series, complete) - Non-con, Joel is obsessed with you being pregnant, whether you want to be or not.

One Shots

The Bet ❤️ - when you run into financial difficulties your contractor offers an unorthodox way of saving money on your kitchen refurb. (Joel Miller).

Save Me A Dance 🩷💛 - You and Joel finally give in to your feelings at the Jackson Harvest Festival.

Amantes Sunt Amentes ❤️ - Marcus Acacius wants Lucilla. And Maximus. Despite the danger it puts them in.

Sunrise ❤️💛 - sunrise is the only time of day you don’t have to share Joel.

Coraline 🖤💛 - based on the song Coraline by Maneskin, part of the Italian Music Challenge. Dealing with the awful consequences of abusive parents is easier with Frankie at your side. (Frankie Morales).

Life’s a Beach ❤️ - you probably shouldn’t let your as boss push your boundaries so easily. Especially not on the public beach behind where he’s staying with his family. (Dave York).

Our Little Secret ❤️ - Incest - you cross a line with your uncle. (Joel Miller)

It's All Brad's Fault ❤️ - Dieter catches you pumping breast milk in his trailer one day and it awakens something in him. (Dieter Bravo).

Writing challenges

Naughty or Nice Writing Challenge - a rom com based writing challenge, hosted by me ☺️

Naughty or Nice Challenge Masterlist

[baronessvonglitter]

Clint - The Helping Hand

(Part of "Guy-Crazy")

Clint Flood x OFC Daisy | 1.4K | read on AO3

Summary: In need of a helping hand, Daisy turns to a familiar place - and a familiar face.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mention and use of of sex toys. Anorgasmia. Fingering. Mention of masturbation. Pussy pronouns. Clint is well hung. Protected piv. Lube. Aftercare. Clint uses his beloved flannel to clean you up AND reminds you to hydrate. Pure smut. Another friend helping a friend in need.

A/n: Clint was the winner on this poll. Originally Clint was going to be a video store clerk, but I liked the idea of him working in an adult store better. And I hope you like it too 🩷

CLINT MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

I liked to visit The Pleasure Chest to stock up on things I typically hadn’t needed while I dated Patrick. Flavored lube, cute and sexy lingerie, occasionally some porn to put me in the mood when I didn’t feel like being with anyone. While I had a decent collection of gadgets, I stuck to my tried and true rose toy, only venturing into other territory when I was curious.

One night I just could not make myself come. My toys were taking too long to charge, and the ones that did work just weren’t doing it for me. Using my fingers just wasn’t the same. It was time to take a trip to the sex store.

How grateful I was that this place stayed open late hours. I wondered if people felt odd buying adult products in broad daylight. The store always put the purchases in a nondescript paper bag. It’s not like anyone would know if you bought a ten inch glow in the dark dildo at eleven a.m. on a Tuesday.

Surprisingly the store was practically empty. A couple perusing the BDSM area and another person checking out the butt plugs were the only customers at that hour. I made my way straight to the wall of vibrators and started shopping.

“Need help finding anything?” a voice asked from behind me. I looked up to find Clint, the usual night cashier.

A year ago I would have been too flustered to name my needs, even if it was only telling the employee what I was looking for. I felt like a perverted, abnormal freak for even thinking that I could be into spankings or having candle wax dripped on my bare skin.

I was way past all the humiliation by then.

“I’m looking for a new vibrator,” I said, the same as if I was somewhere else looking for a new pair of shoes.

“We have plenty,” he said. “Do you have anything particular in mind?”

There were so many – rabbits, thrusting rabbits, g-spot stimulators, wands, bullets. “I just really need to get off,” I mumbled helplessly, not realizing I’d spoken out loud until I heard Clint chuckle. “This one looks interesting.” I took a vibrating realistic cock off the hook and studied it.

“That’ll get you where you need to go, darlin’,” Clint murmured, “if you can handle that many inches.”

I smirked at him. “You think I can’t?”

“I might have something that can test that theory,” he replied, the air between us becoming something much more than just playful. “I’ve only got about ten minutes before closing. Why don’t you stay after?”

I was bent over the display of collars and leashes and paddles. My breath fogged up the glass as Clint eased my panties down my legs. I stepped out of them and Clint’s hands traced up my legs, his thumbs in the creases where my thighs met my ass, spreading me open from behind. His fingers eased into my pussy, two thick digits sliding in easily. “You’ve been wet all day, haven’t you?” he murmured. “Jesus, you’re all messy. You leaked right through your shorts, you know that?”

A sharp laugh escaped me, my cunt already trying to suck up every inch he gave me. “It’s been a long day.. nothing’s gotten me off.”

“You just want to come, don’t you?” he repeated my earlier words. “That’s why you’re here.”

He crooked his fingers, the calloused tips stimulating my g-spot. I shivered, moaning sweetly as he teased me. “I’ve never seen such a wet pussy,” he continued. “And tight..”

I’d masturbated all night, tried every possible solution, but they all led me here, where Clint was fingering me, the sloppy sounds nearly as loud as his filthy words. “Gonna give this pretty pussy exactly what she needs. I bet she’s been cryin’ for this all damn day.”

“Clint!” I gasped, lifting my hips, arching up as he slipped in deeper. He pressed against me, his chest covering my back. His cock, hard inside his jeans, poked my lower back. He tucked my hair behind my ear, giving my lobe a quick nip. “Come for me, pretty girl,” he rasped. I heard a slight buzzing sound as he pulled me back to him, his free hand cupping my pussy from the front. A sweet and shocking jolt made me gasp out loud. He was wearing a vibrating ring, pressing it against my clit as he fingered me, my climax coming quicker.

“There we go,” he murmured, holding me against him. “I got you, I got you..”

I cried out, sweet relief flooding my veins as I came apart at the seams, my pussy soaking his hand. He finally let go as the pleasure ebbed, gently placing me down on the glass again. “You might be ready for this,” he said. “You want that big, thick vibrating cock? We’re gonna have to see if it fits first. And I have something else that’s the right size.”

I heard him rip a condom open, and a bottle of lube being popped open. The sweet scent of strawberry filled my senses as he rubbed the liquid onto his sheathed cock. “You ready for me?” he asked.

“Yes..” I gasped. “Clint.. please..”

“How can I possibly deny that?” I could practically hear his smile as he teased me with the head of his dick. He notched himself, letting just the tip breach me. And oh boy, I could tell he was going to be a big one.

“This okay? Need more?” he asked, voice trembling from holding back.

“Yeah..” I whined, my cheek pressed to the glass. He asked if I was uncomfortable but honestly every single thought was focused on the way he started to fill me inch by blessed inch. He was a stretch to fit but the lube, and my still-sopping wet cunt, eased the way in.

“Feel that?” he whispered. “Jesus, you’ve got all of me. Every damn inch, sweetheart.”

Through the condom I could feel him twitch as he tried to stay still, deeply seated inside me. My eyes fluttered with the sweetness of being filled so fully. “Don’t move yet,” I gasped. My walls pulsed around him and he gritted his teeth, remaining exceptionally patient.

“Fuck yourself on me,” he said, “when you’re ready.” He lifted my hips to angle in deeper, ensuring I covered all of him, the angle perfect to hit that sweet spot inside. When I was ready I pressed back against him and he took a small step back, giving some space between us. Then I moved back and forth, Clint’s oversized cock sliding in and out at a leisurely pace.

“So good..” I sighed. “Please.. I need that ring on my clit again..”

He obeyed, keeping it at a low setting to match my tempo. His heavy balls slapped against my inner thighs, his grip tight on my hips, not pulling or guiding, just letting me move how I wanted. “There we go,” he rasped. “Just like that. Just take what you need from me..”

With a gasp I curled my fingers around the edge of the glass display and bounced my ass back on him, gasping louder, the wet and obscene sounds our bodies made like a symphony to my ears as I moved faster, Clint’s hand still cupping my pussy, his muttered words soft in my ear.

I came harder than I ever had in my life.

My cunt throbbed around his dick, squeezing, drenching him. He held onto me, caressing my hips, talking me through it as lightning shot through my veins, every nerve ending alive and pulsing. I wasn’t aware of anything but the central feeling in my body, a momentary out of body experience. Even in the aftershocks, I whimpered and mewled.

Clint followed soon after, slamming into me until he filled up the condom, a deep and satisfied roar erupting from some primal place in his lungs. We stayed slumped over one another, breathless and dizzy until he disengaged, carefully getting rid of the condom and wiping me down with his blue flannel he’d removed. He apologized for not having anything else on hand, even though he’d come prepared with everything else. The scent of sex and strawberry lube hung in the air around us.

“You need this,” he said, handing me a bottled water. “Poor thing. You really needed to come..”

I drank most of the water, thanking him for the hydration. “I did. Thanks, Clint..” I smiled as he gave me a soft kiss on my forehead.

“Anytime,” he murmured. “Will you still be taking the toy?” He tapped a finger on the package containing the vibrating dildo I’d been salivating over earlier.

“I don’t know. I think I like the real thing better.” I gave him a wink.

“Come by any time. I’ll be happy to help you out.”

dividers by @/strangergraphics 👑

taglist: @time-for-my-weekly-spanking @loveoverpride @madpanda75 @peepawmiller @604to647 @aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @inept-the-magnificent @bergamote-catsandbooks @sunnytuliptime @sawymredfox @berryispunk @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff @tateypots @littlepedrito @vodkaandpizza @mcthsman @maggiemayhemnj @xstrawberrycigarette @ashleyfilm @ess-evo (if anyone wants to be added or removed please let me know)

[tateypots]

Damn Clint!! So naughty and hot! So sweet of him to help her check that vibrator would be the right size for her 🤭 best customer service in town! Although I too like Daisy would find it hard to go to a vibrator after a dicking down like that!

[avastrasposts]

How well do you know your Pedro boys?

- Part VII

How about another round of silly games?

Last time was honestly too easy, you know your Pedro boys too well! So this one I'm upping the difficulty! Let's see how well you know the hair....

This is how you play: check the photos below the cut, make your guesses and put them in a reblog, making sure to hide your answers below a "Read More" cut. I'll see your reblog and give you your score

Let's play!

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10.

Tagging some people who might want to play again (because you all did way too good in the last one...)

@kirsteng42

@din-cognito

@tateypots

@jessthebaker

@sawymredfox

@bergamote-catsandbooks

@katw474

@paradiselady19

@theanothersherlockian

@rebel-held

@grogusmum

@oonajaeadira

@just-ashlee

@time-for-my-weekly-spanking

@aurorawritestoescape

@imaswellkid

@simpingforjoel

@sunnytuliptime

@missredherring

@clawdee

@burntheedges

@lady-bess

@mysterious-musings

[tateypots]

Wooo,my favourite game! Tricky this one, a lot of guessing 😆

1. Reed Richards

2. Max Philips

3. Dieter Bravo

4. Din Djarin

5 Javi Peña

6. Frankie Morales

7. The Penis Collector

8. Silva

9. Max Lord

10. Marcus Pike

[tateypots]

Fic writer showcase game 📝

how it works: pick a favourite passage from your work for each category below. it can be a line or a few paragraphs.

Thank you for the tags @ess-evo @missadangel @time-for-my-weekly-spanking ☺️

This has taken me far too long to do because I had go back and read everything and then it took me ages to decide!

Most Romantic or Sweetest

This one is a little left field but hear me out. I've gone with Part 19 of Lead Me Not Into Temptation. Which is not a sweet or romantic fic at all, but this part is Joel trying to convince our older but inexperienced reader to let him eat her out. Now this Joel isn't above a little (read, a lot) of manipulation but what he says here he means 100%. And I do think that it is such a sweet thing to say. Especially to a woman who has been taught to be ashamed of her body.

“I know baby, I know. I’ll take care of you I promise. Just let me taste you baby, please.” “Joel!” you wail. “Please baby. It’ll feel so good. Better even than when I sucked on your tits, and I know you liked that.” To prove his point he ducks his head and wraps his lips around your still hard nipple and gives it a big suck before grazing the pebbled bud with his teeth. Your whole body shudders with desire. You’re losing the battle. With every passing second your body is pumping out more and more of your arousal. You’re absolutely soaked. You’re needy and desperate and you have to have him. You barely recognise yourself. You try one more time to forestall him. “But Joel, I’m all…sticky, it’s yucky.” You feel his dick twitch beneath you and the groan that rumbles from his chest doesn’t help the situation between your legs. You’re so embarrassed. It can’t be normal, you think, to be leaking this much. He’s going to be disgusted and then what? You can’t bear the thought of this ending. He pinches your chin and forces you to look at him. “It ain’t ‘yucky’ you hear me? You’re so good baby, such a good girl gettin’ all wet for me. I just want to taste it and give that beautiful pussy some kisses. It’ll make me so happy baby, don’t you want to make me happy?” Of course you want to make him happy. He looks at you with the biggest, saddest puppy eyes and you feel awful for making him doubt it. You’d do anything for him. “I do. I want to make you happy. I’m just worried you’ll think it’s disgusting when you see how much there is, and then…then you won’t want me anymore.” Joel’s heart is set to beat right out of his chest. That’s what you’re worried about? You’re so adorably clueless. He holds your face in his palms and makes you look at him again. “Oh baby you’re the sweetest little thing.” He peppers kisses all over your face before standing with you still in his arms and laying you down on the bed. He hovers over you and kisses you on the lips before looking deep into your eyes. “Now let’s get one thing straight ok. Ain’t nothing your body can do that is ever gona make me not want you baby, y’hear me? You get a little cold and that cute little nose of yours starts running, boogers everywhere? I’ll still think you’re the most beautiful woman I ever met. You get sick and start pukin’ and poopin’ everywhere? I’ll take care o’you and clean you and nurse you through it, and when you’re recovered I’ll make love to you just the same.” Your ears go red with embarrassment at the crass things he’s saying but the sentiment is so beautiful it makes you want to cry. No one has ever wanted to take care of you like that. You’ve always been the one doing that for others. Your heart swells. You love him so much.

Angst-iest Writing

Ok, this one was easy. It's from a, Frankie x reader one shot called Coraline that was written for the Italian music challenge. Some fairly heavy warnings in place for this one including historical child abuse and miscarriage. Reader is confronting her mom here.

“You were terrible parents. And even now that I’m an adult you can’t let me be happy. Why are you so determined to ruin my life?” “Ruin your life? We were trying to save you from that degenerate you married. He put your father in the hospital you know, he had to have stitches.” “Boo, fucking, hoo,” you tell her, sweeping your arm across your body, not an inch of which is not marked in some way by the assault of your father. She flinches. You know it’s at the curse coming out of your mouth rather than the repulsion of seeing what her husband did to you. “I’m sure your father never meant for you to fall down those stairs, he was just trying to get you to see sense. Yes, that’s it. Your father is an upstanding member of the community, I’m sure the police will see that this was an accident. What that Morales man did to him was deliberate. He’s violent, I could always sense it in him. He will go to jail where he belongs and you will come home. One day you will be thankful for what your father did for you tonight.” You laugh. Actually laugh at her, pain shoots through your ribs but you embrace it. You’re not surprised that she’s still defending that man. You are a little surprised by how delusional she is. “What’s so funny?” The last few chuckles trickle out of you before you sigh and tell her. “there are cameras.” “What?” “There are cameras in the hallway,” you see her sag as the realisation hits her. “The police will already have seen them. They’ll know what he did wasn’t an accident. If my husband deserves jail for violence, then so does yours.” “No, no. That’s not right. Your father doesn’t belong in jail.” “Yes he does.” She starts rambling and pacing, “no, no, no, not right, not right.” “Everyone is going to know. Imagine what the neighbours will say. Especially when it comes time for the trial and I have to get on the stand and recount all the abuse I lived though in that house. My medical records will back it up. Everyone is going to know exactly what kind of people you are.” “Stop it!” she screams at you.

Most humorous writing

Ok this one was hard as I don't think my writing is particularly humorous. I've gone with this little bit at the end of In Need Of a Top Up. There's a bit of a recurring theme in this little series of Tommy catching reader and Joel in compromising situations and the idea of Tommy being completely exasperated by how horny you and his brother are is actually pretty funny to me.

You’re just heading out of the office when Tommy returns from his lunch. He takes one look at the pair of you before burying his head in his hands like he’s been burned.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, can’t you two keep it in your pants for a few hours?” Your eyes snap to Joel and you realise with a jolt how dishevelled he looks, hair sticking up in all directions, shirt crumpled from your hands and stained with your milk, a distinct wet patch on the crotch of his jeans and by the way he’s looking at you, you realise you mustn’t be faring much better. There’s absolutely no denying what you two have been up to. You catch each others eyes and immediately start laughing. Tommy heaves a long suffering sigh before turning and walking out of the office, muttering to himself, “fuckin’ in the office like a pair of horny fuckin’ teenagers.”

Sexiest Writing

For this one I’ve gone with another Frankie story. This is from my Wingman series (part 3, Valentine Calamity) and if Frankie said/did this to me I’d actually pass out. I love him so much.

"Baby, I want you too but you don't ever have to do anything you don't want. All of you. We don't have to go any further until your brain and your body are both ready, you hear me?" You nod. "Words baby," he directs you. You sniffle, "yes Frankie." "Good girl, come here." He pulls you into his embrace, your head finding a home on his chest once more. It's quickly becoming your favourite place to be. He sways you gently, his arms engulfing you until he feels your heart and your breathing begin to calm. "There now, feel better?" You nod and belatedly throw in a "yes Frankie," already expecting to be told to use your words. "But..." "But what baby?" "I'm still so turned on." He lets out a surprised laugh and kisses you again. "You're gonna be the death of me baby." He cradles your face and gives you lots of sweet little kisses that leave you mewling. You feel his cock twitching in his pants and that almost breaks your resolve but before you can even say anything his forehead falls to rest on yours and he's nudging your nose with his to get your attention. "Did you like what we did last night baby? On the phone." Your pussy clenches violently at the memory, a strangled "yes" escaping you as you clutch at his shirt. "Would you like to do that again?" he asks, his voice sounding low and gravelly just like it did last night and you think you might pass out. "Fuck yes!" "Hmmm good girl," he murmurs against your cheek, his hot breath on your skin causing goosebumps to erupt over your body. "Here's what we're going to do," he starts, pulling back and looking you deep in the eyes, his pupils blown wide with desire. "You're going to go inside and I'm going to get back in my truck and I'm going to call you." You whimper as he starts to kiss down your throat again. "And you're going to answer and let me listen to you playing with your pretty pussy ok?" You whine as his kisses continue down over your chest, one soft kiss placed on the swell of each breast over your dress and still he's sinking lower. "And while you play with your pussy and let me hear how wet she got for me, I'm going to stroke my cock and imagine how she'll feel when he gets inside her." "Fuck," you whimper, your head tips back and thuds into the door, your legs already feeling like jelly at the thought of Frankie jerking off in your driveway. You look down and he's on his knees now looking up at you, and it's absolutely sinful how debauched he looks. He leans in to kiss your belly and he feels you tense. Knowing you're sensitive about that part of your body, he diverts and places a gentle kiss on your hip, right on the bruise that this morning he grabbed by accident. His hands are on the outside of your thighs now, and you think you're about to lose your mind when he says, "and if you want to be a really good girl for me, you'll let me take these panties, so I can smell your pussy while I stroke my cock."

Npt: @baronessvonglitter @whocaresstillthelouvre @magpiepills @aurorawritestoescape @sawymredfox @604to647 @grogusmum @avastrasposts @rosharanfiction @petalsinblood @arcane-fox and anyone else who hasn’t been tagged but wants to play. Please tag me so I can see yours!

[time-for-my-weekly-spanking]

These are all excellent extracts and you’re such a great writer, my dear! 🙂‍↕️♥️

I’m still amazed by the beauty of Coraline and your Frankie from your Wingman series is still living rent free in my head, he’s basically the perfect man, so dreamy, so warm and sweet and thoughtful, I can’t help but swoon every time 🥹🥹🥹

Exasperated Tommy is 100% hilarious and always makes me cackle so hard 😂

And OMG If Joel had told me what he said to Lead Me Not Into Temptation’a reader, I would have thrown myself at him without even thinking twice (yeah, okay, I'd do it anyway because I'm a whore for that man 😂), that's such a beautiful thing to say, I want to cry and I want him!!! (The fact that he's a manipulator is a detail I can overlook 😂)

Wait, darling, you dropped this:

[tateypots]

Thank you so much for your kind words V! ❤️

My Frankie boys are so special to me, strong, sweet and supportive and so so dreamy!

And I might have to write some more chapters for In Need of a Top Up just for some more exasperated Tommy 🤭

And as for Joel, I will love him forever no matter how bad he is! Joel girlies for life!!

[baronessvonglitter]

THE SLEEPOVER

best friend’s stepdad!Joel Miller x f!reader | 4.7K | read on AO3

Summary: Your plan to seduce your best friend's stepdad is coming along perfectly. But there's one small hitch..

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Girthy age gap (reader is 21, Joel is in his 50s). Frenemy relationship. Alcohol. Passing out. TW: Stepcest. TW: Dub con. Unprotected piv. Voyerism. F!masturbation. Jealousy. Multiple orgasms. Secret relationship. Daddy issues. Mention of virginity loss. TW: infidelity. Nipple play. Creampie. TW: drugging. Not beta'd because I'm insane enough to think it's pretty good.

A/n: another one that's been in the wip folder for centuries 😅 this is purely for entertainment reasons, if you don't like what's in the tags feel free to keep scrolling.

dividers by @/sisterlucifergraphics 👑

JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

Tonight's the night. You're finally gonna fuck your best friend's stepdad.

Joel Miller has been haunting your every waking thought since you first met him over Christmas break. You and your new college friend Katie spent a few days with her mom and her new husband after you decided you couldn't stand your own family for very long. And that was when Katie's stepdad became a fixture in your fantasy department.

Tall, broad, a permanent tan from working in the sun, and with biceps as big as tree trunks, Joel is first on your list of Old Men to Fuck.

Before him you never bought into the whole "older guy" kink. Most men Joel's age are balding, with bulging guts and tiny dicks. Mr. Miller himself has none of those things. And the third one you hope to find out for yourself.

You show up on Katie's doorstep unannounced, your overnight bag in hand. Your bikini is already on under your shirt and shorts. She looks less than enthusiastic. Surprised, even.

"I wasn't expecting you until next weekend," she tells you, looking like she might even shut the door on you.

"C'mon, don't leave your best friend hanging." You prop the door open with the flat of your palm, swooshing past her and into the foyer. Joel and his wife have a nice place. Lots of different rooms and a huge pool in the back. "My parents are fighting again. Don't be a shitty friend and turn me away." Your words have a bite despite the smile plastered on your face.

"How long are you staying?" she asks, trudging upstairs after you.

"Umm.. not sure. How long is your mom gone for work?"

"The rest of the week. She comes back Thursday night."

"Where's Joel?" you ask innocently.

A pause from Katie. "He's in the backyard."

You ignore Katie's weirdness and stride outside, through the French doors and onto the deck. Joel's out at the grill, and the scent of cooking meat greets your nose.

"Well, hello there Mr. Miller." You saunter up to him, your top and jeans chucked off in Katie's room, your big and perky tits on display under the neon orange bikini top. Your bottom isn't a thong but it may as well be, the amount of ass you're showing.

Joel smirks at your chipper greeting, offering a little nod. "Hey there, scooter," he says. You want to lick up the drops of sweat beading on his forehead. He's the epitome of the Ultimate Dad, dressed in a navy blue Dallas Cowboys shirt and tan cargo shorts, crisp white New Balance sneakers on his feet.

"That looks so good," you tell him, leaning over the grill, arching your back so he can get a good look your generous cleavage. "Ooh.. I just love a good, thick sausage!"

The brief smirk on his face isn't lost on you, and you give him a little wink as you walk to the pool. He wipes his face on his sleeve before going back to the grill.

It's so easy to flirt with him. He takes it in stride, but you know it's because he can't openly flirt back in front of his stepdaughter, who will surely tell her mom on you both.

You stay within his line of sight, spreading sunscreen on your skin even though Katie has the spray kind. You take your time, hands roaming over your body, surreptitiously glancing at Joel. And he's definitely watching. Smiling, you come up to him as he closes the grill, getting ready to join you and Katie in the pool.

"Get my back?" you ask, handing him the bottle.

You untie the knot holding up your halter bikini top, feeling the heat of his gaze upon your skin. His large, roughened hands knead the cream onto your shoulders, smoothing down your back, settling briefly on your waist, squeezing lightly before tracing back up, massaging the sunscreen into your skin. "Anywhere else?" he asks gruffly.

You glance over at Katie, who's sitting on the edge of the pool, legs dangling in the water. She's glaring at you, but turns away when she catches your eye. She's either angry or embarrased, probably both. You don't care. You're gonna be bouncing on her step-daddy's dick soon.

It's easy to keep Joel's attention on you once you have it. Your breasts are practically spilling out of your top. You make it a point to show them off as much as you can, especially in the pool, staying in the shallow end so they stay above the water, bountiful and enticing. You can practically see him licking his lips. Later when you eat you keep eye contact with him as you seductively eat the sausage on your plate. By the time lunch is over you're sure you're getting that cock tonight.

You lay on the lounge chair, soaking up the sun. Katie naps peacefully in the chair next to you, mouth open, snoring lightly. Joel's on your other side, the sunlight gleaming on the water droplets on his skin, his arm over his eyes to block out the harsh sun. You admire the soft paunch of his belly, the hairiness of his navel, the little peek of a happy trail leading down to his swim trunks. And there, currently at rest, the soft line of his thick cock, just visible through the material.

You run your tongue along your lips, reaching out ever so cautiously. But Joel looks up in time to grasp your hand. "What do you think you're doin', little lady?"

"Just admiring the view, Mr. Miller." you tease him, not releasing from his grip. You glance over to Katie. "She's asleep, she won't see anything," you whisper to him.

Joel's mouth is set in a firm line, and you can practically see the decision-making going on behind those dark lustful eyes. "You always this bold?"

"Only when I see something I want.."

"You're trouble," he whispers.

"You don't know the half of it.."

Katie wakes up suddenly, breaking the mood. But you've come prepared, and bring out the bottle of whiskey you brought with you. "Shots, anyone?"

You wake up groggy, your mouth dry and bitter, your stomach swirling with nausea. Your phone lights up at your touch, showing it's two in the morning.

The last thing you remember is doing shots with Katie and Joel. Maybe you went past your limit, though you pride yourself on handling your alcohol. Sitting up in Katie's bed you try to clear the fuzz in your brain as you reach for a bottled water on the nightstand.

Only then do you realize Katie's gone. Hopefully she just went to the bathroom. Refusing to divert from your plan of seducing Joel you get up and change into the sexy pajama set you'd bought for just this occasion, and start your way downstairs.

Your heart is thudding with excitement, your pussy already drenched with thoughts of what you're going to do to him.. and what he's going to do to you.

Halfway down the stairs you hear a thud coming from the living room, and then a harsh "Sh!" and a soft groan.

Joel's not alone.

Did his wife come home early? You peek into the living room where the TV casts its cerulean glow on a completely unclothed couple on the sofa, the woman writhing on the man's lap, his large hands on her hips. Your heart lurches when you see who it is.

Joel and Katie.

They're trying to be quiet, despite the rhythmic thwacking of flesh on flesh, and they're too absorbed in each other to notice you standing in the doorway. Katie's little whimpers of pleasure fill the room as Joel stares up at her, eyes evoking unbridled lust.

It makes your head spin as you put all the pieces together. Katie hadn't wanted you around this weekend - specifically because she wanted Joel for herself. She must have put something in your drink to make you fall asleep so she could sneak out and fuck him.

Katie's not as much of a shrinking violet as you thought. Part of you can't help being a little proud of her subterfuge.

You know you should leave, but a bigger part of you stays rooted to the spot, your hand going into your sleep shorts and under your panties as you watch your best friend and her stepdad.

Joel covers Katie's mouth as she comes, his huge palm barely able to mimimize the moan of pleasure that emits from her. Once she recovers he gently places her on her back, her legs hanging over his shoulders as he steadily pumps into her.

Your fingers are inside you, scissoring to spread you as wide as you imagine Joel's dick is, pumping your hand into you at the same speed that Joel is going. It should be you stuffed full of his cock on the living room sofa. It should be you moaning his name in ecstasy, barely attempting to quiet yourself.

Every time she comes he talks her through it, murmuring sweet things to her as he lets her come down and then switches position again, likely wanting to feel her in every way possible. Now he has her face-down ass-up as he pummels into her from behind, his grip on her so strong it's leaving bruises on her hips.

You whimper as you imagine yourself in Katie's place, but they're too engrossed in each other to hear it. You're waiting for her to come so you can let go too. And right as she's moaning his name Joel pulls away, stroking himself until he spills his load on her ass, both of them breathing heavily and slumped over. You come right after, soaking your hand in your panties, your free hand clamped over your mouth. What a rush, and yet you have so many questions as to what you've just witnessed.

They're talking now, speaking in low tones, likely trying not to wake you, under the impression that you're still asleep upstairs.

"I'll send her away," Katie's saying. "I know you don't like her. I don't like her very much, either."

Biting back a retort you harden your gaze at the two of them, laying side by side on the sofa.

"I saw the way she was throwing herself at you," she continues. "I wanted to push her into the pool."

Joel chuckles low and soft, the way you'd been fantasizing he would do with you. "She's the type of girl who's used to getting what she wants. She's nothing like you, soft and shy and quiet. I love that I don' t know what's goin' on inside that pretty head of yours." To top it off he kisses the top of her head.

"She's only my friend because she wants to sleep with you," Katie warns.

"She ain't gonna get that far," he says as a promise. "Look at me." He cups her chin and presses a gentle kiss to her forehead. "It's just you and me, okay? Not even your ma can come between us."

You're back in bed when Katie returns. Even as she stands over your bed, you feign sleep. You don't have the mental fortitude it takes to process what you just witnessed. It was like a porn coming to life. Except it should have been you, not Katie.

"Wake up," she says. "I know you saw us."

"What?" you murmur, feigning tiredness. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Cut your bullshit," she growls. "You saw me fucking Joel, didn't you?" You've never seen this side of her before. Sweet, gentle Katie, who cried at those stupid SPCA commercials and said yes ma'am/yes sir to everyone over the age of thirty. The Katie you thought was a virgin and saving herself for marriage, or at the very least, romance.

Maybe you've met your match.

You sit up, dropping the act. "So what if I did? I was on my way to fuck him myself. Little did I know his own stepdaughter got to him first. You're gross, you know that? He's practically like a father to you."

"He's not my father. Besides, I love Joel, and he loves me."

This makes you laugh. "You're kidding, right? Katie, he's married to your mother! The man's not gonna drop everything just to be with you. He found an easy lay. No one in the world is dumb enough to give that up."

"You're just jealous."

"Yeah, let me tell you how much I want to run away with your stepfather." You roll your eyes. "You really think he loves you? You're delusional, Katie."

She sits on the bed, shoulders hunched. The closer she gets, you can get a whiff of sex off her.

"It's real between us, you know," she says quietly. "It's not just sex. We really do love each other."

"Oh honey, be real," you urge her. "It's fine for you to have your fun with him, but it's not gonna go anywhere. He'd lose everything. It's not worth the risk."

She's quiet, as if she's contemplating your words. Of course sweet little virgin Katie would fall head over heels for the first older man to give her some attention. You just never thought it'd be Joel Miller of all people.

"How did it happen?" you ask out of curiosity, a gnawing need that must be sated. Scooching over, you make room for her in the bed with you as she begins her story:

She used to steal his flannel shirts from his hamper when he was out. She liked the scent of him, whether it was the cologne her mom had bought him for his birthday or his own natural scent, the sweat the lingered on him as he came inside from mowing the lawn or working in the shed out back.

It was her secret sin that she had a crush on the man her mother married. Her own dad left to start over in another state with a younger woman who worked at his office. He wrote emails, sent gifts, but didn't put the effort in that showed his love. Joel hated him for that, cussing him out whenever his name was mentioned.

"You deserve better than that," Joel would mutter, squeezing Katie's shoulder. It was innocent at first. He had eyes only for her mom. He saw her as a daughter of his own, or so he'd told her. He'd never done anything inappropriate or acted untowardly with her. Part of her was relieved. A deeper, darker part of her wished he'd cave in so she could do so too.

She studied you, your behavior around men when you used them to get what you want. Standing shyly on the sidelines, she learned how to move, how to use her voice, how to dress. Luckily Joel didn't seem to mind what she wore, always complimenting her whether she had on her worn overalls or the sundress she'd borrowed from your own closet.

She was wearing that sundress the first time she kissed him.

He'd froze at first before pushing her away, telling her she shouldn't have done that, it was wrong for numerous reasons. But then he gave in and kissed her again.

That's all it was at first, just kissing and touching, always when her mom was out, or upstairs in bed, aided to sleep by a combination of pinot noir and heavy medication. Katie was a virgin, but despite her curiosity she didn't want to rush into this.

Certain sins she kept from him, like the way she'd steal his favorite flannel shirt from the laundry hamper, still bearing his scent, his sweat, the remnants of his cologne.. When he was out she would sneak the shirt into her room and touch herself, playing with her pussy while she held the fabric to her nose, imagining things she didn't dare suggest to him outright.

One night she didn't count on him coming home so early, and had fallen asleep on his bed after bringing herself to pleasure over and over..

Joel's heart stopped as he took in the sight of her on his bed, her legs bare beneath the t-shirt. He felt a jolt of desire course through him, his fingers twitching as he resisted the urge to touch her. He stood there for what felt like an eternity, torn between doing what he wanted and doing what was right. He slowly approached the bed, his eyes roaming over her body. His hands itched to touch her skin, to pull her into his arms. "Katie," he whispered, his voice almost reverent.

"Mm?" she moaned, waking up slowly.

Joel froze as she stirred, his heart thudding in his ears, He didn't know what to do, what to say. "You.. you're in my bed," he managed to croak out, his eyes glued to her half-naked body.

"S-sorry," she realized she was still holding his flannel. Joel's eyes flickered to his shirt still clutched in her hands and swallowed hard, trying to find a coherent thought. "You shouldn't be in here.."

"I'm sorry," she repeated, with no excuse for why she was in there in the first place. Joel shook his head, his voice a low growl. "Don't apologize." He took a step closer to the bed, his body moving of its own accord, drawn to her like a magnet.

Her breath shuddered and despite herself her core grew warm and wet. "I'll go."

"No," Joel said firmly, his hand shooting out to grip her wrist as she started to get up.

"Joel?" She gasped when he pressed her down, undoing his jeans. Her panties were pushed to the side as she held onto him, heart buzzing with excitement.

"Katie.. God, I'm sorry," he groaned as he settled between her thighs.

All her breath left her as he pushed forward and she gasped in surprise. Joel stilled above her, his face mere inches from her. "Did I hurt you?" His body trembled with the effort to keep still.

"I'm okay," she whispered, the pain melting already. As soon as she said that he started to snap his hips against hers and she cried out.

His breath caught in his throat, fingers gripping her thighs as he thrust fast and deep. "Christ.. Katie.."

Before she knew it he was pulling away, removing from her as something warm and sticky covered her belly. Joel groaned as he spilled himself onto her stomach, feeling both relief and guilt wash over him. He looked down at Katie, her body trembling under his. "I'm so sorry.. I shouldn't have.."

"It's okay," she whispered, her mind still spinning with what had just happened.

"We won't tell anyone what happened, okay?" He found a towel and cleaned her, his touch gentle.

"And so.. what, you've been fucking him ever since when your mom's not around?"

Katie shrugs. "Yeah.. she's been going on more work trips lately. I don't think she suspects anything.."

"Katie, she's not stupid. You're fucking her husband under her roof. She's bound to figure it out eventually. You or him or both of you will slip somehow."

"What is wrong with you?" she counters. "You told me yourself that you mess around with your own stepfather."

"That's different," you huff. "I only blow him sometimes when I want a little extra spending money. I would never straight up fuck him!"

"It is different.. because Joel and I love each other," Katie stresses.

"He doesn't love you! He just wants to fuck you!" you nearly shout. "Jesus! What would happen if your mom found out? She owns a fucking gun!"

"Quiet!" Katie hisses. "She'd never hurt us. When the time is right he's going to leave her and be with me."

"You don't honestly believe that, do you?"

Katie doesn't answer you, she just gives you a sad look, as if you could never understand.

You're starting to think you don't want to understand.

Still, that doesn't deter you from pursuing Joel yourself. Now that you've seen that cock in action you need it. If a sweet, simpering virgin like Katie can somehow persuade him, you with all your know-how will land this easily. Piece of cake.

After making sure Katie won't bother the both of you, you find Joel on the deck outside, enjoying an ice cold beer.

"You look comfy," you purr, standing in his direct sunlight so he has to look up at you.

"What're you doin' out here?" he mutters, sipping a beer, sitting straighter up as you sit next to him on the deck sofa.

"I just wanted to come out and say hi," you say prettily, swiping his beer and taking a sip, letting the tip of your tongue linger on the bottle.

"Where's Katie?" he asks, voice rough as he watches you.

"She got her period or something. She had to run out to buy pads." A little smirk dances across your face. "So we're all alone. What should we do?"

He turns to glance over his shoulder at the house, as if to check that Katie really is gone. "It's up to you, darlin'. Wanna get in the pool? Sunbathe a little?" His smirk matches yours.

"I've got something better I'd like to do." You perch your barely-covered ass on his lap, grinding down slightly, his bulge twitching beneath you.

Realization dawns in his eyes and he keeps his hands at his side, a feat of restraint. "You're practically just a kid."

"The last time I checked, twenty-one is a full grown adult."

He exhales through his nose as you continue to press him. Another sip of beer passes his lips before he replies. "I'm over twice your age," he mutters.

"So?"

"I'm old enough to be your dad. I've got wrinkles and everything."

You trace your fingertip over his crow's feet and the deepening ridge between his brows. "I think your wrinkles are cute."

"You're just bullshittin' me." Joel's blushing though.

"No bullshit. Promise." You rub your hand on his knee. "Girls my age love older men."

He's intrigued now. "Oh yeah? Why's that?"

"Because y'all know what we need while we're still figuring out what we want."

He makes a hmph sound in his throat, but he's nonetheless intrigued. "And what is it that you want, kid?"

Your fingers wander to the graying curls at the nape of his neck. "I want to take care of you, see that your needs are met."

Joel shakes his head. "Why waste all that on an old man?"

"I just think we could have a good time together."

"Good time, huh? What exactly do you think we'd be doin'?" His brow arches.

"Might be more fun to show you."

Joel gives an amused scoff as you pull him close, brushing your lips against his. His rough hands grab your waist, pulling you to straddle him. Your lips part, allowing his tongue in your mouth, exploring and tasting.

He's married, he's involved with his stepdaughter, and now this.. you're a beautiful girl and he's just a weak man.

His arms wrap around you, hands sliding up your tank top, stroking your soft skin. His kiss turns rough and greedy, biting your bottom lip and tugging it between his teeth. You start to grind on his lap, moving your hips in little circles as you slowly pull your top off. Joel's breath hitches in his throat, his eyes hungrily admiring your flesh. He'd be lying if he said he'd never snuck a look at you before. And now you're giving him exactly what he wants.

He leans in, leaving a trail of kisses down your neck and chest. You arch into his kiss, his beard lightly scratching your skin. "I want to feel you," you moan softly.

"Yeah? Think you can handle me?" he mumbles against your skin. "I'm more than two decades older than you, sweetheart."

"I'm well aware." You grind down on his lap as he gazes up at you with his big brown eyes, his hands gripping your thigh, holding in you place on him. "They say older trees are the sturdiest," you add.

"Never heard that line before, darlin'.." He gives your thigh a squeeze, his hand sliding up the hem of your shorts.

"Glad I can give you some kind of first," you whisper, your lips running down his neck as you unbutton his jeans. You lift off him enough to touch him through his boxers. Joel inhales a sharp breath, reaching to grasp your wrist. "Don't you think you're gettin' a little ahead of yourself, darlin'?"

"What? Don't tell me you're feeling guilty.." you tease him, unclamping his hand from your wrist so you can pull down your shorts and panties in one go. "I wanna feel you, Joel.."

That's the moment when his self-control goes out the window. "Fuck," he growls, eyeing the slickness present between your thighs as you climb into his lap. "Think it'll all fit?" you murmur, allowing the tip of him to sink in.

"Gonna find out," he grunts, thrusting up into you, his hands gripping your hips. God, he's big, bigger than you'd dreamed, and thick.

"You okay?" He gives you a chance to adjust to him. After you nod, he pulls almost all the way out then back in again at a torturously slow pace. "Takin' me all the way in," he mutters, running his tongue along the side of your throat.

"Joel, you're huge," you sigh. "I can feel you in my belly."

"Yeah? Right here?" He presses his palm to the small bulge protruding in your lower stomach. "Come on, sweetheart, take it. Ride me like you mean it."

"Oh, fuck.. it's so good," you moan as you start moving in earnest, bouncing on his lap as your pussy squelches around his cock. He grabs your hips, his teeth sinking into his lower lip as he tries to steady you. "Slow down, darlin'," he warns you. "I'm close. Don't want this to end so soon."

"Already?" You tsk-tsk. "Poor guy.. you must really need to get rid of that load." You hear his scoff and decide to go for the jugular. "I bet Katie never lets you come inside her.."

"What?" His eyes jerk up to yours, hands tightening on your hips, ready to throw you off. "What are you talking about?"

"Easy, tiger. She already told me everything. I found you two by accident on the couch, fucking like the perverts you are," you whisper, bearing down on him with punctuation.

"What the fuck.. you saw that?"

"I did.. and I got myself off to it.. so hard." You swivel your hips just so, still riding him. "You want to fill me up, don't you? Young and pretty thing like me, filled up with you?"

His eyes close as you kiss his cheek, his body reacting way ahead of his brain. "Yeah, I do. Gonna let me come inside this sweet pussy?"

"I have an IUD. You can pump me full of you." You gasp as he dips his head, taking your nipple into his mouth and sucking it, swirling his tongue over it.

"You're gonna be leakin' me for days," he warns you, guiding you up and down, thrusting up into you at a relentless pace.

"Fill me up.. use me," you whimper, your walls starting to convulse around him. Joel felt the tremors beginning deep inside you and holds back until you're coming apart on top of him, wet and tight and urging him to spill. His hips stutter as he comes hard, bottoming out as his warm release jets up into you.

"Look at you. All messy." He lifts you off of him, a combination of your fluids already oozing out, glazing his dick and his pubes.

"I'm gonna go to sleep just like this, full of you," you plant another kiss on his lips before you get to your feet and get dressed. "And when I wanna get filled again, I know exactly where to go." You wink at him before going upstairs.

Checking on Katie upstairs you find her still asleep, knocked out from the sleeping pills you crushed into her drink earlier. A little payback for the way she'd drugged you the night before. "See? All I wanted was a taste," you tell her, softly stroking her hair. "You didn't have to be so greedy. We're best friends, after all. And that means we share everything."

if you've made it this far, thank you! follow @baronessvonglitter-fics for updates 💖

taglist: @time-for-my-weekly-spanking | @mcthsman | @ess-evo | @tateypots | @madpanda75 | @aurorawritestoescape | @milla-frenchy | @kokoluwie | @sawymredfox | @joelalorian | @speaktothehandpeasants | @goonersquad101 | @artsymaddie (if you no longer want to be tagged in this please LMK)

[tateypots]

I love this so much! Joel is a very naughty boy, luckily reader had the measure of him even if Katie didn’t! I’m so glad reader didn’t let that little hitch get in her way, persistence in the face of adversity! And the payoff?! Ooh boy, hot as hell!

Amazing as always Adriana, thank you for the treats 🤭😉

[petalsinblood]

I don't know about y'all, but I'm aready obsessed.

[tateypots]

I’m dying, Soph these are amazing! 😍

[time-for-my-weekly-spanking]

Fic Writer Showcase Tag Game 📝

How it works: Pick a favourite passage from your work for each category below. It can be a line or a few paragraphs.

Thank you so much @dreamedaboutitinthedark , @sawymredfox , @milla-frenchy and @mcthsman for tagging me in this ❤️

It's always hard for me to pick something of my own, given my low self-esteem and also because once I post something, I usually forget what I wrote, so I've had to go back and reread almost all of my fanfics 😂 Anyway, I tried my best so here we go 🙂‍↕️

Most Romantic (or sweetest):

Saturday - poetry and chocolate ice cream - Father in Law!Joel Miller x f!reader

I think these two lovebirds are the sweetest thing I wrote so far, I didn't even plan for them to be like that, it just happened 🥹

Joel is still holding you, his big paws on your ass.  His lopsided smile makes your knees weak, his eyes are fixed on you, lustful chocolate for you to devour, a look that leaves so little to imagination.  Every little wrinkle on his face, every mole and skin blemish, dimples and bald patches in his beard. He calls them flaws, you call them the map of love.  There’s a little scar on his temple, he said it was from hitting something when he was a kid. You’re always eager to kiss it, just because it’s so him.  He makes you think of wabi-sabi, the Japanese concept you once read about. That little scar doesn’t need to be fixed, like everything in him. His beauty is imperfections, raw, authentic, unique, deeply human.  Joel is just like that. Flesh and blood that hunt you down and make you dirty and imperfect but you never felt more liberated and your true self than wrapped in his arms.  “You have my lipstick all over your chin,” you giggle.  “Well, you, too. Think it’s perfect,” he replies, the pad of his fingers brushing your lower lip.  You clean up his and your messy face, lead him to the living room and make him sit on the couch.  “I’m going to put this away and take something to drink, don’t move.”  He gives you that look that always appears on his face when you walk away - longing and yearning. You’d call you both pathetic, but you’re so drunk in love, it’s just sweet. You’ve never seen Joel with that face before, it’s a “yours” face and you wouldn’t give it away for all the money in the world. 

Your Angst-iest writing:

I'm still proud of Everything in its right place first chapter, even if this fic is on hiatus at the moment. I think it's the best angst I've ever wrote so far.

Everything in its right place - Joel Miller x f!reader - Chapter 1 : A wolf at the door

“You know this relationship isn’t working Joel.”  Joel watched his wife, standing up in front of him, saying him she was about to leave.  He hoped it wouldn't happen, but he knew he had taken too many things for granted. This person, this stranger who looked him in the eye and told him she was leaving home, he no longer recognized her. Her eyes were different, a veil of hardness had fallen over them. Her body was different, unwelcoming, her arms stiff at her sides. Her hands, which once enchanted him, seemed unfamiliar, cruel, her fingers thin as claws ready to tear his heart apart. Her entire evasive figure seemed to reject him. “I can't go on like this. You can't go on like this.” Her voice was no longer a melody; those inflections that once delighted him now seemed unbearable, repulsive, hurting his ears. The kitchen walls were oppressive, the sizzling of the pan on the stove an unpleasant backdrop to that confession, the smell of burnt eggs reaching his nostrils like the final confirmation of his defeat. He turned quickly to remove the pan from the heat, cursing when he grabbed the hot handle, throwing the pan and its contents into the sink with a crash that splattered scrambled eggs all over him, the backsplash and the sink.  She stood there motionless, as if none of it concerned her anymore. Not the scream that Joel made, nor the unusable frying pan, nor the eggs that had made a mess everywhere. Joel turned around again, catching sight of the suitcases in the hallway. He looked again at his partner of fifteen years, his high school sweetheart, the woman he thought he knew better than anyone else. The impassive woman standing before him was not her. “You know what's going to happen now,” he hissed. “There's nothing else I can do.” She turned away. Joel felt words welling up in his throat. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.  He wanted to shake her. He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry.  Joel hadn't cried since they lost Sarah.  He did nothing. He felt a lead weight sink into his heart as she walked in the hallway. He clung to the kitchen counter, his knuckles tight around the white laminate. The daylight streaming in through the window made everything terribly real, the pale December sun enveloping the room in a yellowish, almost sickly hue. Like jaundice, like an infection. The doorbell rang. She opened the door and Brian hurried to take her luggage. Brian, the office colleague whom his wife had invited to dinner once. The office colleague who had eaten at his dining table. Brian. The man who rattled off anecdotes about everything.  Brian. The man who knew a little about everything but only superficially, by his own admission. Brian, the man who had no flavor, totally forgettable, the most ordinary face Joel had ever seen. Brian, the man Joel had thought he never had to worry about. Brian, the man who was taking her away from him. It was a comedy of the absurd. A revolting, low-grade theater performance. Joel yelled his wife's name once. Just once, as she gathered the last of her things. She turned, looked at him, a slight crack of remorse finally bent the corners of her lips and veiled her eyes, she mouthed “I'm sorry,” and she was out the door two seconds later. Everything was shrouded in a gloomy silence. He didn't notice the tears streaming down his cheeks until he saw the damp patches on his gray sweater.  He didn't move until he felt a lick on his fingers. He wiped away his tears and looked down. He didn't even know when Tommy had scampered over there. Brown eyes, black muzzle, black and white coat. He looked at him gently, his slightly panting breath blowing on his hand before licking it again. Joel slumped to the floor, Tommy climbed onto his lap, resting his muzzle on his shoulder. He hugged him. And cried. He cried until he had no more tears left.

Your most humorous:

Closer - Tess x f!reader x Joel

I think both Awakening and Closer have humorous part, especially when it comes to Tommy, he became my funny guy for some reason and I love him 🤭

Closer ending is probably one of the best example of it:

Just as you were about to fall asleep—Tess hugging you and you hugging Joel—the door opened again. All three of you snapped your eyes open, trying to cover yourselves as best you could, Tess grabbing her shirt off the floor, you hiding behind Joel, as Tommy walked into the room. “What the fuck?” Tommy’s jaw dropped; his eyes darted from you to Tess to his brother at a ridiculous speed as he tried to figure out what the hell had happened. “You guys…” he began, pointing his finger at Joel, “fuck, you had a threesome? While I was downstairs keeping watch?!” Then he looked at you again, his eyes lingering, then at Tess, and back at Joel. “Fuck you, were those noises you guys making?! I thought they were fucking infected outside the door!” All three of you burst out laughing; Joel shrugged. “Damn, you could’ve at least invited me!”

Your sexiest:

Bunny - younger!sub!Harry Castillo x curvy mistress!f!reader

For the sexiest thing, I chose Bunny because I love this reader and she turns me on 🤤 I'm really proud of her! And you know how much I love a good boy and Harry is the best boy 😌

The room was silent around you, filled only with your breathing. He felt his pulse quicken, his chest rising and falling in ragged breaths, a light sheen of sweat beading on his neck. Your pussy was just above his hard cock. “Do you want to feel me?” He had never nodded so quickly in his life. “Yes, ma'am.” Even so, he could feel the heat between your legs, the scent of your arousal. He wanted to reach down, dip his fingers into your slick, taste your flavor and make you come on his lips, while your juices were dripping down his mustache, lips, chin, and neck. You would have been sweet on his tongue, intoxicating like a drug. Unconsciously, he pulled hard on his wrists, meeting resistance from the silk ribbon.  You pushed your hips back, brushing his naked cock with your still-clothed pussy and Harry couldn’t help it. He gasped hard, lifting his hips, searching for more friction.  You slapped his face, shooting him a withering look. “Behave.”  “I'm sorry, ma’am,” he whispered, the stinging pain of your slap inflaming his cheek.  Nothing stopped his cock from throbbing, though. Quite the contrary. It had never been so hard. Harry couldn't take his eyes off your breasts, swollen and taut beneath your bodysuit. You followed his gaze. “Would you like to have a taste?” You whispered.  “Yes. Please. Just - fuck - I need it.” “Oh, poor boy, you need it so bad?” you cooed. There was no derision in your voice, no mocking, no pity, just honey and cotton-candy sweetness.  You pulled down the front zipper of your bodysuit, your tits popping free from under the fabric. You smiled at his eager, passionate gaze. He had never seen anything more perfect.  You moved your hips a little upward, your pussy now brushing on his stomach as you leaned in, your tits one inch above his mouth.  “Take it, baby, show me how much you want it,” you whispered in his ear.  Harry didn't need to be told twice. His neck stretched out, his lips closed over one of your nipples, and his cock twitched desperately at the sensation. It was soft, warm and tasted so good. It was like it was made for his mouth.  Your fingers entangled in his hair, roaming through his curls. You moaned, “Good job” and the praise went straight down his spine and filled his limbs. He felt your breath itching while his mouth continued to suck, his tongue swirling eagerly over your hardened bud, his teeth gently grazing, enough to make you moan again.  He smiled against your skin, feeling proud, feeling so good about being able to elicit that kind of reaction in you.  “Yeah, baby, go on, suck on them.” Your pussy was throbbing, he could feel it distinctively, your wetness making the leather slippery and wetting his stomach.  He put his mouth on your other breast, giving it the same treatment, your soft skin making his head spin. He wanted you so badly, so badly he wasn’t even able to express how much in words at that point. 

npt: @aurorawritestoescape @baronessvonglitter @missadangel @hauntedinkk @peepawmiller @hanahleah @ess-evo @mrsnanamiller @littledes1re @reedispunk @shadowqueen2024 @petalsinblood @broad-shouldrs @sprigsofhazel @hauntedbymiller @604to647 @tateypots sorry if you've been tagged already!

[tateypots]

V these are all such excellent choices! Your writing is so wonderful and vivid! That moment with father in law Joel is one of my faves in the series. That face that he makes just for you 🫠🫠🫠 so romantic and soft and joyous.

And the angst, oh my heart breaks for poor Joel. You captured the emotions perfectly. When the ending is quiet there’s nothing to distract from the heartache 😭 having Tommy as a dog did help me feel better though!

And speaking of poor Tommy, I can only imagine his indignation at being left out 🤭 sorry Tommy, someone has to keep watch, better luck next time!

And Bunny sounds super sexy, Harry pulling at his restraints to try and get to you 🥵 that is in an image that will be living rent free in my head for a while!

You’re so very talented V, it blows my mind that you write all these beautiful things in a second language!

[tateypots]

Fic writer showcase game 📝

how it works: pick a favourite passage from your work for each category below. it can be a line or a few paragraphs.

Thank you for the tags @ess-evo @missadangel @time-for-my-weekly-spanking ☺️

This has taken me far too long to do because I had go back and read everything and then it took me ages to decide!

Most Romantic or Sweetest

This one is a little left field but hear me out. I've gone with Part 19 of Lead Me Not Into Temptation. Which is not a sweet or romantic fic at all, but this part is Joel trying to convince our older but inexperienced reader to let him eat her out. Now this Joel isn't above a little (read, a lot) of manipulation but what he says here he means 100%. And I do think that it is such a sweet thing to say. Especially to a woman who has been taught to be ashamed of her body.

“I know baby, I know. I’ll take care of you I promise. Just let me taste you baby, please.” “Joel!” you wail. “Please baby. It’ll feel so good. Better even than when I sucked on your tits, and I know you liked that.” To prove his point he ducks his head and wraps his lips around your still hard nipple and gives it a big suck before grazing the pebbled bud with his teeth. Your whole body shudders with desire. You’re losing the battle. With every passing second your body is pumping out more and more of your arousal. You’re absolutely soaked. You’re needy and desperate and you have to have him. You barely recognise yourself. You try one more time to forestall him. “But Joel, I’m all…sticky, it’s yucky.” You feel his dick twitch beneath you and the groan that rumbles from his chest doesn’t help the situation between your legs. You’re so embarrassed. It can’t be normal, you think, to be leaking this much. He’s going to be disgusted and then what? You can’t bear the thought of this ending. He pinches your chin and forces you to look at him. “It ain’t ‘yucky’ you hear me? You’re so good baby, such a good girl gettin’ all wet for me. I just want to taste it and give that beautiful pussy some kisses. It’ll make me so happy baby, don’t you want to make me happy?” Of course you want to make him happy. He looks at you with the biggest, saddest puppy eyes and you feel awful for making him doubt it. You’d do anything for him. “I do. I want to make you happy. I’m just worried you’ll think it’s disgusting when you see how much there is, and then…then you won’t want me anymore.” Joel’s heart is set to beat right out of his chest. That’s what you’re worried about? You’re so adorably clueless. He holds your face in his palms and makes you look at him again. “Oh baby you’re the sweetest little thing.” He peppers kisses all over your face before standing with you still in his arms and laying you down on the bed. He hovers over you and kisses you on the lips before looking deep into your eyes. “Now let’s get one thing straight ok. Ain’t nothing your body can do that is ever gona make me not want you baby, y’hear me? You get a little cold and that cute little nose of yours starts running, boogers everywhere? I’ll still think you’re the most beautiful woman I ever met. You get sick and start pukin’ and poopin’ everywhere? I’ll take care o’you and clean you and nurse you through it, and when you’re recovered I’ll make love to you just the same.” Your ears go red with embarrassment at the crass things he’s saying but the sentiment is so beautiful it makes you want to cry. No one has ever wanted to take care of you like that. You’ve always been the one doing that for others. Your heart swells. You love him so much.

Angst-iest Writing

Ok, this one was easy. It's from a, Frankie x reader one shot called Coraline that was written for the Italian music challenge. Some fairly heavy warnings in place for this one including historical child abuse and miscarriage. Reader is confronting her mom here.

“You were terrible parents. And even now that I’m an adult you can’t let me be happy. Why are you so determined to ruin my life?” “Ruin your life? We were trying to save you from that degenerate you married. He put your father in the hospital you know, he had to have stitches.” “Boo, fucking, hoo,” you tell her, sweeping your arm across your body, not an inch of which is not marked in some way by the assault of your father. She flinches. You know it’s at the curse coming out of your mouth rather than the repulsion of seeing what her husband did to you. “I’m sure your father never meant for you to fall down those stairs, he was just trying to get you to see sense. Yes, that’s it. Your father is an upstanding member of the community, I’m sure the police will see that this was an accident. What that Morales man did to him was deliberate. He’s violent, I could always sense it in him. He will go to jail where he belongs and you will come home. One day you will be thankful for what your father did for you tonight.” You laugh. Actually laugh at her, pain shoots through your ribs but you embrace it. You’re not surprised that she’s still defending that man. You are a little surprised by how delusional she is. “What’s so funny?” The last few chuckles trickle out of you before you sigh and tell her. “there are cameras.” “What?” “There are cameras in the hallway,” you see her sag as the realisation hits her. “The police will already have seen them. They’ll know what he did wasn’t an accident. If my husband deserves jail for violence, then so does yours.” “No, no. That’s not right. Your father doesn’t belong in jail.” “Yes he does.” She starts rambling and pacing, “no, no, no, not right, not right.” “Everyone is going to know. Imagine what the neighbours will say. Especially when it comes time for the trial and I have to get on the stand and recount all the abuse I lived though in that house. My medical records will back it up. Everyone is going to know exactly what kind of people you are.” “Stop it!” she screams at you.

Most humorous writing

Ok this one was hard as I don't think my writing is particularly humorous. I've gone with this little bit at the end of In Need Of a Top Up. There's a bit of a recurring theme in this little series of Tommy catching reader and Joel in compromising situations and the idea of Tommy being completely exasperated by how horny you and his brother are is actually pretty funny to me.

You’re just heading out of the office when Tommy returns from his lunch. He takes one look at the pair of you before burying his head in his hands like he’s been burned.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, can’t you two keep it in your pants for a few hours?” Your eyes snap to Joel and you realise with a jolt how dishevelled he looks, hair sticking up in all directions, shirt crumpled from your hands and stained with your milk, a distinct wet patch on the crotch of his jeans and by the way he’s looking at you, you realise you mustn’t be faring much better. There’s absolutely no denying what you two have been up to. You catch each others eyes and immediately start laughing. Tommy heaves a long suffering sigh before turning and walking out of the office, muttering to himself, “fuckin’ in the office like a pair of horny fuckin’ teenagers.”

Sexiest Writing

For this one I’ve gone with another Frankie story. This is from my Wingman series (part 3, Valentine Calamity) and if Frankie said/did this to me I’d actually pass out. I love him so much.

"Baby, I want you too but you don't ever have to do anything you don't want. All of you. We don't have to go any further until your brain and your body are both ready, you hear me?" You nod. "Words baby," he directs you. You sniffle, "yes Frankie." "Good girl, come here." He pulls you into his embrace, your head finding a home on his chest once more. It's quickly becoming your favourite place to be. He sways you gently, his arms engulfing you until he feels your heart and your breathing begin to calm. "There now, feel better?" You nod and belatedly throw in a "yes Frankie," already expecting to be told to use your words. "But..." "But what baby?" "I'm still so turned on." He lets out a surprised laugh and kisses you again. "You're gonna be the death of me baby." He cradles your face and gives you lots of sweet little kisses that leave you mewling. You feel his cock twitching in his pants and that almost breaks your resolve but before you can even say anything his forehead falls to rest on yours and he's nudging your nose with his to get your attention. "Did you like what we did last night baby? On the phone." Your pussy clenches violently at the memory, a strangled "yes" escaping you as you clutch at his shirt. "Would you like to do that again?" he asks, his voice sounding low and gravelly just like it did last night and you think you might pass out. "Fuck yes!" "Hmmm good girl," he murmurs against your cheek, his hot breath on your skin causing goosebumps to erupt over your body. "Here's what we're going to do," he starts, pulling back and looking you deep in the eyes, his pupils blown wide with desire. "You're going to go inside and I'm going to get back in my truck and I'm going to call you." You whimper as he starts to kiss down your throat again. "And you're going to answer and let me listen to you playing with your pretty pussy ok?" You whine as his kisses continue down over your chest, one soft kiss placed on the swell of each breast over your dress and still he's sinking lower. "And while you play with your pussy and let me hear how wet she got for me, I'm going to stroke my cock and imagine how she'll feel when he gets inside her." "Fuck," you whimper, your head tips back and thuds into the door, your legs already feeling like jelly at the thought of Frankie jerking off in your driveway. You look down and he's on his knees now looking up at you, and it's absolutely sinful how debauched he looks. He leans in to kiss your belly and he feels you tense. Knowing you're sensitive about that part of your body, he diverts and places a gentle kiss on your hip, right on the bruise that this morning he grabbed by accident. His hands are on the outside of your thighs now, and you think you're about to lose your mind when he says, "and if you want to be a really good girl for me, you'll let me take these panties, so I can smell your pussy while I stroke my cock."

Npt: @baronessvonglitter @whocaresstillthelouvre @magpiepills @aurorawritestoescape @sawymredfox @604to647 @grogusmum @avastrasposts @rosharanfiction @petalsinblood @arcane-fox and anyone else who hasn’t been tagged but wants to play. Please tag me so I can see yours!

[dreamedaboutitinthedark]

reblogging is sexy

reblogging fics you finished is sexy

reblogging for your tbr is sexy

empty reblogging is lowkey sexy

annotation reblogging is super sexy

reblogging reblogs with comments of your post is sexy

reblogging is Tumblr culture

if you reblog, you are sexy

edit: it’s super sexy if you reblog the posts you literally asked the author to tag you in

[tateypots]

If you’re shy, an empty reblog is a great way to show the creator some love without actually having to interact. It’s how I started out when I was new here and was too scared to talk to anyone!

[pinkbowknickers]

-Somebody’s Watching Me-

No-Outbreak!joel x neighbour!reader Reader is being watched. Joel is her saviour. Soft to Dark themes. m!masturbation. Joel is 50, readers age isn’t specified.😉 wc:2170 more tags at the end of story, so not to give away the story?

Notes: So this isn’t my first fic (I did a drabble about spot picking with Joel)🤨 however it is my first one shot that is actually gonna be a mini series? Or is it just a bunch of one shots, me no idea. Big thank you to @hauntedbymiller for encouraging me to write this, and for helping me out with the story when I got stuck🩷🎀 Love how your twisted mind works sometimes😉 Any reblogs, comments are more than welcome, I wanna get better🩷so I need notes

You’d never considered yourself jumpy. Living alone had never bothered you. The quiet cul-de-sac sat on the edge of town where nothing exciting ever happens. The loudest disturbances were usually kids kicking footballs or Mr. Harris mowing his lawn at eight in the morning. Your neighbour, Joel Miller, fit right into that peaceful routine. He wasn’t particularly social, but he wasn’t unfriendly either.

If your garbage cans tipped over in the wind, he’d silently set them upright. If your car battery died, he’d already be halfway across the driveway with jumper cables before you’d even finished sighing. He spoke in that deep Texas drawl that somehow made even complaining about the weather sound comforting.

You wouldn’t call the two of you friends, just friendly neighbours. Until Wednesday night. 

You found yourself standing barefoot on your front porch at eleven at night staring across the short stretch of driveway separating your house from Joel Miller’s.

You almost laughed at yourself. The age of you and you’re frightened by a few strange noises in the garden. Still, your hands trembled as you wrapped your cardigan tighter around yourself. Someone had been in your backyard, you were sure of it.

The knock barely left your knuckles before the porch light brightened. A deadbolt slid back, door opened and Joel stood there in faded grey sweatpants and a navy T-shirt, his salt-and-pepper hair going in all directions. The concern arrived before the words did. “You alright?”

Nothing came out.

His brows pulled together. “What happened?”

“I…” You swallowed. “I think someone’s in my backyard.”

He looked over your shoulder toward your house. “You see ’em?”

You shook your head. “No, but I heard someone.”

“What’d you hear?”

“Footsteps, mumbles.” Your voice shook despite every attempt to steady it. “Ive heard it a few nights now.”

Joel opened the door wider. “Come inside.”His tone wasn’t forceful, it simply left no room to argue.

The warmth of his house wrapped around you almost instantly. He locked the door behind you before guiding you toward the sofa. “You want some tea?” You nodded. He disappeared into the kitchen, the familiar sounds of a kettle filling and cupboards opening somehow grounded you. It was normal. Comfortingly normal.

Joel returned with two steaming mugs before crouching beside the coffee table. “You stay right here.” He was up and leaving before you could stop him. “What are you doing?”

“Gonna have a look.”

Your eyes widened. “No. What if someone’s actually there?” 

“I’ll be alright.” His mouth twitched into a faint smile. “—they’ll wish they picked on somebody else’s backyard.”

You couldn’t help smiling back, but it disappeared almost immediately. “I’m being serious, Joel—I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’ll be fine, darlin—just stay put.” He pulled on a canvas work jacket hanging beside the door. “You lock this behind me.”

“I really don’t like this, Joel.”

“I know.” He rested a reassuring hand briefly on your shoulder. “But I won’t be long.”

Twenty minutes felt like two hours. You sat listening to the old clock in Joel’s living room, jumping every time the house creaked. When the front door finally opened, relief flooded through you. Joel stepped inside, wiping mud from his boots against the mat. His jeans were streaked with damp soil.

“Well?”

He sighed, “Yeah…” Your stomach dropped. “What did you find?”

He shrugged over his jacket, throwing it on the couch. “Your flowers’re all trampled.”

You closed your eyes. “I knew it. Damn it…”

Joel stood above you, adjusting his belt. “But I didn’t see anybody. Maybe it was a real heavy raccoon lookin’ for food.”

“A raccoon?”

“Yeah—big fucker.” Despite yourself, you laughed softly. “I don’t think raccoons flatten flowerbeds, they go for trash cans.”

He scratched at his beard thoughtfully. “Maybe it was somebody’s dog.” You looked into your mug. “I know what I heard, Joel.”

Joel’s expression softened. “Yeah I believe ya, Darlin.” After a long silence, he clapped his hands together. “Right, you can stay here tonight.” You shook your head quickly. “No no I can’t.”

“Of course ya can.”

You shook your head again, like it’s finalised. “No I’ll be fine. I’ll just lock my doors and have a knife ready.”

“Jesus, Girl—yeah but then you’ll spend all night wonderin’ if every noise is somebody outside.”

“…Probably. So?” Truth be told, you didn’t wanna leave, as much as you argued—your feet remained planted. 

“My bed’s clean, I’ll take the couch.”

“I’m not kicking you out of your own bed, Joel.”

“You ain’t kickin’ me nowhere.”

You sighed. “Oh my god, you’re stubborn.”

“So I’ve been told, darlin.”

It happened again three nights later. You were sat at your kitchen table, reading the paper when you saw a flash. It was one of those things where you don’t know if you imagined it or not, but you stood and went to look out the kitchen window. You couldn’t see anything in the sea of darkness, but then you heard shuffling from just underneath your window. You heard it again and banged a balled fist against the glass. “I know you’re out there fucker!” 

More noise then you saw—undeniably—a tall figure standing now a few feet away, hidden in the shadows. 

You scream and ran out the front door and sped to Joel’s, frantically knocking on his door. He takes him a minute to answer, you push your way in and slam the door behind you. 

“Sorry darlin I was in the basement. What the hell happened?” He reached for your shoulders trying to centre you. “Darlin, I need ya to calm down.” 

You were taking gibberish, panicked. “I saw someone. I saw them Joel! Big fucking guy—it had to be a guy. And he was right by my window!” Joel pulls you in against his chest. “Okay come on now, I need ya to calm down.” He strokes your hair a few times. “It’s okay, you’re here now—safe with me.” He shushes you and kisses the top of your head. “I’ll be right back.” 

You barely let him escape the grasp you have on him. “No, Joel please don’t go. Just—stay, let’s just stay here okay?” He gives you a kiss on the cheek. “Okay, darlin.”

The two of you ended up in Joel’s bed watching a movie. You kept looking towards the window and door. Joel noticed everytime. “Darlin, no one’s coming to get you okay? I’m here—not going anywhere.” 

You lowered your head with a defeated sigh. “Well…I can’t keep living like this—being fuckin’ scared all the time. I’m gonna get some of those little security cameras, stick a few around the place.”

Joel nodded. “Now that’s a good idea, darlin’. I know a guy who’ll sort you out with a good deal if you want me to ask.”

Thank God. You hadn’t the first clue about security stuff. “Aw, thanks, Joel. You’re the best. Do I need to meet him, or…?”

“If you want to. He’ll probably just drop ‘em off at my work site, though.” He gave you a reassuring smile. “I’ll help you get ‘em set up, darlin’. Don’t you worry.”

You were so grateful to have Joel in your life. At first, having a friendly neighbour had been enough, but recently he’d become the one person you could always rely on. You rested your head against his chest. “God Joel you’re so warm.” You giggle to yourself wrapping an arm around his torso. “You won’t leave me alone will you?” 

Joel brings you in for a closer hug, “darlin, only for pee breaks.” He crosses his heart, and relaxes against the pillows. You softly hum and drift off to sleep, some little snores rattling against Joel’s chest making him laugh. “Silly girl.” 

 A few minutes later, Joel carefully shifted you off him before slipping out of bed. He padded into the bathroom, flicking on the small light above the mirror. Rubbing a hand down his tired face, he pulled out his phone and made a call.

After a few rings, someone answered.

“Hey, man, it’s me. Listen, I’m gonna need a few of those cameras for someone… Yeah—a woman. Think she’s been seeing someone in her backyard.”

The man on the other end agreed, promising to drop them off in a day or two.

“Good man. I’ll have the money for you then. Take it easy.”

Joel ended the call and switched off the bathroom light before making his way back to the bedroom.

He paused in the doorway for a moment, simply watching you sleep. His T-shirt was bunched up but swallowed your frame. The sight of you wearing his boxers low on your hips, made him go hard in his. 

He quietly crossed the bedroom, careful not to disturb you, and made his way downstairs to the basement.

Stopping in front of the washer and dryer, he rested both palms against the tops of the machines and let out a long, defeated sigh.

“Fuck me…”

He crouched down, grabbing a pair of jeans and boots from the floor. Both were caked in dried mud, flecks of soil still clinging stubbornly to the leather. “That was fuckin close” He turned one boot over in his hand, a guilty smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

He rubbed a thumb over the thick layer of mud, knocking loose a few crushed daisy petals caught in the tread. One petal floated to the concrete floor. “Fuckin’ flowers…” he muttered, shaking his head, thinking he could make it through them without sinking and crushing them more.

He chuckled quietly to himself, remembering the way you’d yelled and bolted for his house, and him barely making it back in time before you knocked. “Ya cut it fuckin close, Miller.”  

He scrubbed a hand down his face and sighed, unbuckling his belt and dropping his pants to the floor. He pulls out his phone, searching through it and places it down onto the dryer. the screen showed a picture of you, sitting at your kitchen table playing with your hair, moments before you witnessed Joel’s accidental flash. “No darlin, you weren’t imagining it.” He chuckles to himself. “Stupid fuckin flash.” 

Joel spat into his palm and drew in a slow, steady breath, his jaw tightening as he stroked his cock. “Fuck…” he muttered, his voice rough and low. His eyes slipped shut for a moment, his head tipping back thinking of you and your sweet mouth sucking him off. A crooked smile tugged at his lips despite himself. “So fuckin’ hot—fuckin slut…”

His breathing grew heavier, frustration and longing twisting together in his chest. He scrubbed a hand over his face with a quiet groan, as he grew closer and closer to tipping over the edge. He imagines you kneeling before him, big teary eyes, mouth full of his cock—thanking him for being your saviour.

“Yeah baby just like that.” He grunts low as his stomach tightens and cums—it landing on his phone. “Fuck—me—“ His body sputters while one hand rests on the dryer. “Fuckin hell.” He lets go of his softening cock still dripping cum for the tip. 

Joel wipes his brow, sweat dripping at his temples. He leans down and brings up his pants and tucks himself back in. He picks up his phone— giving it a much needed wipe—trying to focus on the name to call. The phone rings. 

“Yeah?” 

“Hey it’s Joel. Got one for ya if ya interested. Gonna have to give me a week or two to wear her down though.” 

The voice chuckles down the phone. “Joel you’re a cold bastard. She hot?” 

“Yup. Fuckin gorgeous figure, pretty face, pretty smile. And I bet she makes some sweet ass noises.” 

The voice laughs again, “well let me know when you’re ready—send me some pics of her in the meantime. Clothed, unclothed. Bikini. In the shower. Then we’ll talk.” 

“Sounds good. I’ll get ya the pics in a few days. Gotta be careful.” 

“Understood” then the line went dead. 

Joel cleaned himself up, putting his muddy jeans in the washer and he’ll finish the boots tomorrow. He wants to get back to you. And speak of the devil…

“Joel?” Your voice sounded so small, frightened coming from upstairs, he barely heard you. 

“Yeah, I’m here.” He heard the creaking of the floor as he goes towards the stairs, “I’m coming, darlin—don’t worry.” You stood at the top of the stairs, playing nervously with the hem. “Where did you go?” You asked sheepishly. 

“Sorry, darlin—had to sort out some laundry while it was in my head. Come on, back to bed.” He shooed you playfully, giving your thigh a small tap. “You gonna be a good girl, f’me?” 

You give him a shy smile and as you turn to walk back, the floor disappeared. “Whoa. Fuckin hell, Joel—put me down.” 

“Nah, we’ll get there quicker this way, baby.” 

You preen at the name, maybe turning a little pink as you rest your smiling face against his neck, “thanks, Joel—you’re just the best.” Youve put him on a pedestal, and Joel was eating it up. 

This was going to be so easy. 

—This is sort of a corruption kink I guess. Joel has real bad intentions. Future gaslighting. Manipulation. Black mail. NonCon. Each chapter will have its warnings👍🏻

[tateypots]

Oooh yeah, love this! Can’t resist a dark Joel and this boy is twisted! I’m so desperate to find out who he was on the phone to and what he has planned! @pinkbowknickers please could I be tagged??! 🙏🙏🙏

[baronessvonglitter]

Dave - The Blind Date

(Part of “Guy-Crazy)

Dave York x OFC Daisy | 1.6K | read on AO3

Summary: Daisy's sister sets her up on a blind date.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Alcohol. Mention of divorce. Slight daddy kink. F!oral. Fingering. Spanking. Protected piv. Commitment issues. Food/eating. Embarrassing sexual encounter. Daisy's sister is nicknamed Pickle because I thought it sounded cute

A/n: Dave won the poll this time, so I guess we have more Dave fans than I thought 💓 I hope you enjoy this next installment. I'm working hard to bring out more..

DAVE MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

“I know the perfect guy for you,” Pickle told me over the phone. I put her on speaker as I cradled my leg to my chest, concentrating on painting my toenails – Essie Watermelon.

Rolling my eyes I bit back the sarcastic response that perfection is subjective. “Who is this Mr. Perfect?” I asked.

“My husband knows him through work. His name is David York. He’s recently divorced–”

“Divorced divorced? Like legally? Or just separated? There’s a huge difference.”

“Yes, he’s divorced divorced. And really cute! He’s a government agent.”

I let myself drift off as Pickle rambled on.

“So, this Saturday at eight?” she asked.

“Huh? Where? What?”

Pickle sighed, frustrated with my lack of attention. “You. David. Date. Saturday. Eight pm. Copper Creek Grill.”

“O.K.,” I responded, just as exasperated. “What’s the deal with him anyway? Why is he perfect for me?”

“Because he’s single and cute and has a good job. Plus he has kids from his previous marriage, so he probably wouldn’t expect you to get knocked up or anything.”

“Great,” I said sarcastically. “My Prince Charming.”

“So you’d be willing to date a divorced guy?”

“I have to meet him first, Pickle.” Content that my nails were dry I put my sister on speaker as I started on my fingers. “Don’t start choosing bridal shower invitations just yet.”

“I just want to see you settled, Dais,” she said gently. It turned my heart all around.

“I know.. and I appreciate it.. love you, sis.”

“Love you too, sis,” she said back. “So. Should I call David and let him know you’re interested?”

I sighed. “Yeah, sure. Why not?”

“You’re David?” I asked the tall, broad gentleman at the bar, nursing a whiskey.

“Yes,” he said enthusiastically, standing to shake my hand. “And you’re Daisy, right? Your sister told me a lot about you.” He walked with me to get a booth nearby.

“She’s my older sister. I bet she had a lot of interesting material,” I said we sat down.

“Any other siblings?”

“Thankfully no,” I smirked.

“I see.” He smiled at me as he settled in across the table. “I have an older sister myself. I can relate.”

We talked a little bit about our families. He brought up his divorce, which was pretty recent but, in his words, was “long overdue.”

He was cute – I couldn’t stop checking him out as he spoke – his eyes lit up when he talked about his daughters, the soft plushness of his lips held my attention, the perfect thickness of his fingers as he held the menu had me wondering where else he’d be thick..

If he was feeling the same way he didn’t show it. He was a gentleman the entire time, and at the end of the date he only kissed my cheek. I supposed he was taking it slow because he didn’t want to rush into getting physical with someone so soon after divorcing.

He insisted on my calling him “Dave” instead of “David” and I teased him for having such a game show host name. Secretly I wondered how I was supposed to scream Dave in a fit of passion. Maybe I could scream baby or oh god yes or even daddy if he was amenable to it. I figured I had time.

After five dates (our first dinner, the movies, another dinner, a concert, and then late night drinks) I finally popped the question.

“Do you want to come up?”

We barely made it past the front door, leaving a trail of clothes in our wake. But as much of a hurry he was in to get there, he took his time with me. He ate me out as I bent over the bed, spreading me wide to lick up every inch of space he could, then using his fingers to fuck me until I came over and over again until I finally had to push him away, my pussy and clit oversensitive.

He liked me to ride him in reverse cowgirl, his big hands grabbing my ass and giving light spanks as he guided me up and down on his cock. And when I finally tired out after coming again he pressed me flat to the bed and fucked me so hard my bedposts rattled against the wall.

I ended up screaming Dave after all.

“You’re neighbors are gonna hate me,” he said breathlessly, falling next to me on the bed and getting rid of the condom.

“I hope that means you’re going to be coming over a lot more.. and coming over and over..” I grinned like an idiot as he held me close.

Pickle was insistent on knowing the details, so sure that I was going to tell her Dave was The One. I liked him, but I wasn’t too interested in maintaining an actual relationship. Even if he was hung and could fuck like a machine.

Getting invested in furthering whatever this was with Dave meant I’d eventually meet his kids at one point, and possibly his ex-wife. It was a lot to consider. I was just enjoying myself in the meantime.

We always ended up at my place, even just for lazy nights watching TV. “Are you living in a motel or something?” I teased him one night as we shared Szechuan noodles and pinot noir. “Did your wife get the house in the divorce?”

He just smiled and shook his head. “I’m there a couple nights out of the week, for the girls’ sake,” he said. “I’ve got a place a few blocks over, just to keep close to them.”

“That’s really sweet,” I said, touched by the efforts he made to stay in his daughters’ lives.

“Do I get any points for that?”

Smirking, I climbed onto his lap, grinding down slowly. “Just a few.. for now.”

“Come back to my place,” he invited me after a particularly long makeout session in the car after another date. We were still in the parking lot of the pub, a light rain dotting the windows around us.

“Are you sure?” Secretly I was excited to see where he lived. I wanted to see Dave in his own surroundings for once.

He nodded. “Yeah, come on. You can spend the night if you want.”

We tried to be quiet as we got in the door, but I was too excited, jumping on him immediately. My lips crashed against his as I jumped into his arms. “Take me to your room,” I whispered.

We were having fun under the sheets, Dave especially excitable as he fucked into me with more energy than he ever had before. He flipped me into every position, eager to make me come in every way imaginable. He had me in doggy style when his bedroom door suddenly opened.

I froze, ducking my head even as he kept thrusting into me, the bedframe rattling with the movement.

“Sorry,” someone whispered from the doorway. “It’s just me, honey, I forgot to put your laundry away. I don’t want it staying in the dryer overnight.”

“It’s okay, Mom,” Dave replied, albeit a little breathless.

MOM?? I muffled a shriek and pulled the pillow over my head, tapping Dave’s thigh to signal him to stop.

“Don’t worry, I’m not looking,” Mrs. York said in a teasing manner. It made me want to puke. “David, are you ever going to introduce us to your friend?”

“Dave,” I hissed. “Get. Off. Me.”

“Sure, Mom. Hey, can you hand up those shirts? I don’t want them wrinkled.”

“Of course, honey. And I’ll iron them for you in the morning if they need it. Are you two being safe?”

“Yes, Mom,” he said, somewhat annoyed.

“What’s your name, dear?” the lady asked me. I shook my head, wishing I could shrink or turn invisible.

“She’s Daisy, okay? She’s my girlfriend. Thanks for bringing the laundry, but can you give us some privacy please?”

“Sorry, dear. I’ll get out of your way. You two enjoy, and please don’t make too much noise. I don’t want you to wake your father.”

“I’m already awake,” a deep voice grumbled. I cringed. Both of his parents were in the room.

“Dad!” Dave protested.

“All right, son, we’re leaving. Say good night to your friend from us.”

The door closed. Dave had already gone soft.

“What the hell was that??” I hissed at him, pushing him off me and wrapping the sheet around myself.

“Well.. I’m living with my parents. It’s temporary,” Dave added sheepishly.

“You said you had a place close to your children,” I reminded him.

“I do,” he admitted with a sigh. “My kids are only a short drive from here..”

I shook my head. “Oh my god.. and why the hell did you let them walk in on us?”

“They always do that when I bring a girl over. Ever since high school. Believe me, it’s weird but I’ve learned to just put up with it.”

“It is weird,” I muttered, getting up and putting my clothes back on. “Is that why you never wanted to bring me over?”

“It’s either this or bring you back to the home I still share with my ex-wife.”

“I can’t do this,” I decided. “I’m sorry, Dave. I like you, but this whole situation is just too much.”

Dave sighed deeply, closing his eyes. “Yeah.. I understand.”

I felt bad, but a middle-aged divorced man splitting his time between his ex’s home and his parents’ place was not someone I could continue with. Maybe Dave would reconcile with his wife. Or maybe he’d find someone who was okay being interrupted during sex by his parents as if it were nothing.

All I knew was I had to get out, and that I probably couldn’t trust my sister’s opinions of men from here on out.

dividers by @/strangergraphics 👑

taglist: @time-for-my-weekly-spanking @loveoverpride @madpanda75 @peepawmiller @604to647 @aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @inept-the-magnificent @bergamote-catsandbooks @sunnytuliptime @sawymredfox @berryispunk @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff @tateypots @littlepedrito @vodkaandpizza @mcthsman @maggiemayhemnj @xstrawberrycigarette @ashleyfilm (if anyone wants to be added or removed please let me know)

[tateypots]

Adriana I am DYING! 😆😆

So I kind of had an inkling that Dave wasn’t going to be the one for Daisy (so many more PBoy delights to get through) but he’s so god damn charming and he fucks like a bull so I knew something big was going to have to happen to put an end to it. Dave getting cock clocked by his parents was not on my bingo card, at all! So fucking funny and an absolute vibe kill. I’d have been out of there so fast and all the deets dropped into the girls group chat 😆 unreal!

[baronessvonglitter]

Javi G - The Rebound

(Part 2 of “Guy-Crazy”)

Javi Gutierrez x OFC Daisy | 1.4K | read on AO3

Summary: We go back several years to find Daisy healing her very first broken heart.

WARNINGS: Heartbreak & angst. College parties. Alcohol. Brief mention of a threesome. Sexual tension. Javi is a consent king. Breast/nipple play. F!oral. Multiple orgasms. Protected piv. Fluff and smut.

A/n: Here we are! Did anyone guess the mystery guy mentioned during Frankie's chapter? This is my first time writing for this lovely character and holy hell.. how was he allowed to be so fucking cute AND hot??? I think he might be my new fave. In a few days I'll create a poll for y'all to decide which P-boy's chapter gets posted next 😊

SERIES MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

Patrick and I were on a “break.” Ok, technically we were broken up. I knew exactly what that meant. He wanted to fuck other girls and see if he liked them better. More often than not he just wanted the spice of life that variety offered, and he came back to me because I was his safe place.

Well fuck that. I wasn’t going to wait around for him this time.

A friend invited me to a party off campus. Nothing special. It was the usual affair – men in their thirties making huge batches of jungle juice, playing bartender for the girls my age. Pretty pathetic overall. Nevertheless I grabbed a cup and poured my own drink – rum and ginger ale – and did a lap around the place. The big screen TV in the living room played Pulp Fiction. I rolled my eyes, looking for a means to escape.

Just to be nosy I wandered through the other rooms. In one a couple was passionately making out on a bed, another woman going down on the man. I closed that door, flustered but also turned on.

I made my way to another bedroom, the walls lined with bookcases filled with movies. Most of them were action, suspense, thriller, horror, even some porn.

“Pretty unoriginal, but he does have a few gems,” a voice said behind me. I turned to see a cute guy, mid-twenties, wavy brown locks that looked bleached naturally by the sun. His eyes crinkled when he smiled, emanating warmth. His voice was tinted with a Spanish accent.

“I’m Javi,” he introduced himself, extending a hand. He had a cup of jungle juice in the other, the ice clinking against the polystyrene.

“Daisy,” I said, taking his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

He took my hand and turned it over, planting a light kiss on top. “Are you having a good time?”

“Not really,” I admitted. “You?”

“Not really.” He smirked, strolling over to the DVD collection, running his ring-bedecked fingers over the titles, humming to himself as he skimmed them. “Ever seen this one?” He pulled out a copy of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.

“No I haven’t..”

He popped it into the DVD player, the screen blinking to life. He plopped on the bed and patted the space next to him. I smiled and sat. The TV glowed, the movie started up.

We sipped our drinks, eventually getting comfortable on the bed. I had to admit, it wasn’t where I expected my night to go. Yet Javi was a perfect gentleman. He even put his arm around me when I started crying. “You could’ve told me this was a breakup movie,” I said through my tears. He smiled and gave me a handkerchief from his pocket to dry my eyes.

“It looks that way at first, but it has a hopeful ending,” he assured me.

I loved that movie. I almost insisted on watching it again, but we decided on another one, a Korean film with subtitles. This one was more action-oriented, taking my mind off everything for another couple of hours.

Javi knew a lot about movies and the filmmaking process. He’d written scripts and hoped to find a production company to make them, or he’d create his own company. He knew so much, but he wasn’t preachy about it. He asked what I liked to watch instead of telling me what I should watch.

He really wasn’t like any guy I’d met before..

At times we were interrupted by other party-goers until I locked the door.

Halfway through the third film the tension became unbearable. Javi was cute, he was nice, and he was there. I realized I hadn’t thought about Patrick in hours.

I made the first move, kissing him. His lips were soft, tangy from the jungle juice, and his hand held the nape of my neck as he kissed me back, slow and deep. When he pulled away his golden brown eyes were nearly overtaken by black. “Tell me what you want,” he whispered.

I’d never been asked that before. Patrick usually settled between my thighs and humped away. Or, if he was too drunk, told me to be on top.

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly.

“Is it okay if I keep kissing you?”

“Yeah,” I whispered before he pressed his lips to mine again, his tongue running along my mouth, asking for entry. I parted my lips and his tongue, warm and strong, moved against mine. I instantly melted. His lips trailed down my neck, hands grabbing my hips, tracing upwards to cup my breasts over my shirt. “Can I have you?” he whispered against my throat.

“Yes,” I whispered back, and we slowly undressed. Layers of clothing were peeled away. Javi reached into the pocket of his jeans, which had been tossed to the floor just moments before, pulling a condom from his wallet, keeping it close by as he took his time to kiss and caress every part of my body. His lips lingered over my breasts, licking and teasing my nipples to stiff peaks before moving down over my belly to my pussy, tongue dipping between my drenched folds. Crying out, my hips bucked up, pleading for more, my fingers tangled in his sunlit curls. He stayed between my legs, his hips rutting against the bed, until I came apart on his tongue once, twice, three times.

I was still reeling from my high when Javi rolled the condom over his length. “Is this still okay?” he asked, positioning himself at my entrance. I gave a breathy sigh of a yes and gasped when he nudged in, my hands gripping his arms as he pushed in slowly, all the way to the hilt. He gave me time to adjust before moving, slow and deep, his eyes exploring my every reaction.

I moved my hips against his, our bodies undulating as one, both of us sighing and gasping. My hands roamed his back, his sides, his hips, his ass. Javi sped up, his breath quickening as he lifted my hips, the sounds of our thighs smacking together over the movie still playing in the background.

“Turn over,” he gasped, pulling out and positioning me on all fours. He pulled my hips back towards him, pushing in again, fingers sliding underneath and finding my clit. I moaned, dropping my head to the pillow as he played with my needy sweet spot, circling and swiping until I came again. Javi’s thrusts grew erratic and quickened before he finally let go, pulling me to him as he came, spilling inside the condom.

My limbs felt like jelly as I lay on my side, watching Javi remove the condom, tie it off, tossing it in the trash. After, we cuddled, too tired to move, and we talked. He told me about his home back in Spain. I told him about my own life, my heartbreak over Patrick. He held me closer as I mourned a man who never really loved me.

“I don’t want to sound ungrateful. I had a really great time with you tonight,” I told him.

“I’m glad you did,” he said sincerely.

“I don’t want you to think I slept with you out of loneliness.”

He smiled. “I don’t. And I don’t want you to think I slept with you out of a purely primal instinct to fuck.”

I chuckled, burying my face in his chest. “I’d be happy if you had.. to be honest, you’re only the second guy I’ve ever been with.”

“Really?” He looked surprised and pleased.

“Yeah.. it’s kind of embarrassing..”

“No, Daisy, I’m honored,” he murmured, kissing the top of my head. “Your ex is obviously an idiot for letting you go.” He paused so long I thought he’d fallen asleep until I looked up at him. He was deep in thought.

“What is it?” I asked gently.

“I’m just thinking.. and forgive me if it’s too soon.. but would you like to come back to Spain with me?”

“What.. really?” I sat up.

“I know it’s sudden, but I think you’d enjoy seeing Mallorca. Sunny beaches, glamorous nightlife.. we could spend the whole summer having fun.”

“It sounds lovely,” I said.

He lifted my chin. “Only if you want to, Daisy.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to say yes, but I had no idea why the words wouldn’t come out. “When do you leave?” I asked.

“The day after tomorrow,” he replied. “It’s very short notice, I know.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think the timing is right, Javi..”

“I understand.” He tried to keep from looking disappointed.

After, he offered to drive me back to campus. I brought him up to my dorm, not yet ready to say goodbye yet.

dividers by @/strangergraphics 👑

taglist: @time-for-my-weekly-spanking @loveoverpride @madpanda75 @peepawmiller @604to647 @aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @inept-the-magnificent @bergamote-catsandbooks @sunnytuliptime @sawymredfox @berryispunk @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff @tateypots @littlepedrito @vodkaandpizza @mcthsman @maggiemayhemnj @xstrawberrycigarette (if anyone wants to be added or removed please let me know)

[tateypots]

Javi is so underrated and underrepresented. I’m totally team Javi, just look at his cute little face! I want to smoosh those cheeks so bad!

And of course he is so lovely and sweet and such a big, gentle nerd! This made my heart melt for him. He was exactly what Daisy needed, and while generally speaking I know it’s not a good idea to run off to an unfamiliar country with a man you just met, I think there’s nowhere I wouldn’t follow Javi. I hope they get to meet again!

I’m excited to see where we head next!

[baronessvonglitter]

Frankie - The Best Friend

(part 1 of "Guy-Crazy")

Frankie Morales x OFC Daisy | 837 words | read on AO3

Summary: After a disastrous breakup, Daisy's best friend Frankie offers her the jumpstart she needs to get over her ex.

WARNINGS: Getting over a breakup. References to cheating and small appendages. Brief FWB. Frankie & Benny are bi. F!oral. M!masturbation. Aftercare.

A/n: Of course I had to start with Frankie, our PEK 💦 this is just an introductory chapter - what a way to start Frankie Friday 🧢 It's likely most of these chapters will be on the shorter side. They are not beta'd and barely edited.

FRANKIE MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

“I’ll go down on you. Y’know, just as a friend..”

Those were not the words I was expecting to hear from my bestie Frankie. Especially only a week after I got dumped by my boyfriend.

It all started when I was over at his place. We ordered pizza, watched some really bad ‘90s comedies, and soon his head was on my lap.

“What was he like?” he asked, eyes glazed over as he watched the screen.

“He was a jerk, obviously. He couldn’t keep it in his pants.” We were talking about my ex, the evil douch-lord Patrick.

“Obviously, but I meant bedroom matters.”

“Bedroom matters?” I chuckled at that. “Okay, Jane Austen.. It was fine. He was.. Okay.”

Frankie and I had been friends since I was in college, right around the time I’d started seeing Patrick. Then I started seeing Frankie less and less, letting my shiny new love interest put a wedge in our friendship.

Needless to say, for many reasons, Frankie was never Patrick’s biggest fan.

“Just okay,” Frankie repeated flatly. “You settled for mediocre dick.” He shook his head in disappointment.

“I was in love,” I defended myself. “And when you’re in love, four inches feels like eight.”

“Four inches??” Popcorn flew out of the bowl we were sharing. “Daisy, mi amor, are you fucking kidding me?”

“Frankie,” I groaned, embarrassed by his display. “I was young and dumb and in love for the very first time.”

“Okay, okay.” He took a deep breath. “You can’t help it if he was small. But did he at least eat you out?”

“Not often,” I admitted. “I got the impression he didn’t really like it.”

“Didn’t like eating pussy?” Frankie looked at me like I grew a second head. “No offense, but I think Patrick might be gay.”

“He’s not.. that I know of.”

“I hope you at least cheated on him to get some decent dick.”

“Frankie!”

“Hey, he was cheating on you constantly with that tiny dick of his! The least you could do was get something good on the side.”

“Well..” I sat back and smiled. “There was this one guy I met at a party while Patrick and I were broken up.”

“Do tell..”

I told him about the cute guy at the party, the one with the kind voice and expressive features. We talked about movies and for the first time I was talking to a guy who wasn’t solely interested in Boondock Saints, Scarface, or Quentin Tarantino movies. We ended up fucking. He was leaving the country the next day and had asked me to join him. Somewhere in my stupid brain I’d hoped to work things out with Patrick, so I declined, knowing I’d probably regret it sooner or later.

“I didn’t know you were capable of romance,” Frankie teased me.

“It was one of those things.” I shrugged. “And now..”

“..now you’re single again.”

“You make it sound like a terminal disease.”

“It’s just.. I feel bad for you.”

I rolled my eyes. “Well, don’t.”

“I don’t mean it like that. You’ve just missed out on a lot.” When I didn’t respond he sat closer to me, taking my hand in his. “I’ll go down on you. Y’know, just as a friend,” he offered.

“What are you talking about?” I laughed it off.

“I’m serious!” He insisted, a big, goofy grin on his face. “Your heart is broken. You need something more than a dumb movie marathon to make you feel better.”

I was speechless. Then I asked about his boyfriend. “Won’t Benny have something to say about that?”

“Relájate,” he scolded. “Benny and I have kind of a rule – it’s only cheating if we fuck other guys.”

“Convenient.” I smirked. “So.. just as friends?”

“Just as friends. And only if you want me to.”

And that was how I ended up straddling my best friend Frankie’s face right there on the sofa.

Jeans and panties shucked off, Frankie held my thighs apart, licking and sucking, delving his tongue inside me. Moaning, crying out, I clutched the arm of the sofa, grinding down on him, my cunt fluttering as he moaned against my flesh. He squeezed my ass with one hand, jerking himself off with the other.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop,” I panted. “I’m close..”

His lips pursed around my clit, lightly sucking, the pressure just enough to make me lose my mind. My thighs clamped around his head, body jerking as I came, riding his face. Soon after I felt the warm spurts of his cum on my ass.

Frankie slipped out from under me, bringing a towel to clean me up. I was still half-crazy with pleasure, lost in a haze. He chuckled at me. “I knew you needed that. Don’t go falling in love with me now.”

I swatted at him, missing, taking my clothes from his proffered hand.

“I envy you,” he said, pulling his jeans back on and taking a seat next to me. “This is just the beginning for you.”

dividers by @/saradika 👑

taglist: @time-for-my-weekly-spanking @loveoverpride @madpanda75 @peepawmiller @604to647 @aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @inept-the-magnificent @bergamote-catsandbooks @sunnytuliptime @sawymredfox @berryispunk @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff @tateypots @littlepedrito @vodkaandpizza @mcthsman @maggiemayhemnj @xstrawberrycigarette (if anyone wants to be added or removed please let me know)

[tateypots]

Um I would like to be Frankie’s bestie and have platonic head please!🙏 I’d find something to be sad about every day if this is the way he’d cheer me up!

And I’m so intrigued by this party guy with the kind eyes and expressive features…hope we get some more info on him!

Also, screw Patrick and his tiny dick!

[aurorawritestoescape]

i actually can’t count the number of times i’ve read EVERYSINGLE fic in your series “step into hell” i love it so much and was wondering if there is going to be more parts to their story if there is TAG ME PLEASEEEE

Aahhhhhh this makes me so happy to hear, nonnie! I’m giving you a big hug for being so sweet and telling me this🫂😘♥️♥️ Of course, I will write more of our mean disgusting stepdaddy Joel🥵 I’m working on a wip inspired by an ask I got from wonderfully talented @tateypots 💞 In this story Joel shows off his sweet stepdaughter to his brother Tommy. He might let him watch or even touch her a little😏 And my asks are open if you have any thots and ideas for the series.

Unfortunately, I can’t tag you if I don’t know your name, love, so send me an ask, a dm, a comment, anything and I’ll happily add you to the tag list💞 Thank you for the kind words! Have a fantastic day/night🌺

A Step Into Hell

[tateypots]

Oh yeah, Tommy is joining the chat!

I’m soooooo excited Kate, thank you so much for writing this amazing series for us! 😘❤️

[604to647]

The Detective and The Agent (Part 3: Until Next Time)

7.3K / Detective Tim Rockford x fem!reader x Agent Marcus Pike

Summary: You, Tim and Marcus make a souvenir of your time together.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI pls). MFM Threesome, oral (m and f receiving), unprotected PiV (assumed discussed), established relationship (potential a new dynamic?🤔), petnames as usual (Tim calls Reader: Shutterbug, baby, gorgeous; Marcus calls her: pretty girl, hunny), dirty talk, sex tape, anal play, cum play, aftercare.

A/N: 🛎️🛎️ Ding, Ding! Come get your porn!! Sorry this took so long! I seem to have a recurring problem finishing miniseries 😅😅 but I hope this conclusion for our horny threesome was worth the wait! This final chapter starts where Part 2 left off, but as with all previous parts in the series, this is unapologetic, filthy PWP so feel free to read as a standalone - and once again, kindly do not look me in the eyes, thanks 🙏🏻

Dividers by @saradika-graphics / Series Masterlist / anytime food is mentioned, feel free to imagine tacos 🌮 🤣🤣

You can think of no better way to spend your Sunday morning than leisurely wandering the breathtaking collections at the LA County Museum of Art with a handsome LAPD detective and dashing FBI agent.

Marcus in particular is keen to explore and take in LACMA’s impressive exhibits, ever enthusiastically pulling you this way and that to show you a piece that he’s been eager to see in person.  For the most part, Tim trails behind you and his friend in quiet contemplation, silently moved by the gravitas of the surrounding art and genuinely glad for your obvious enjoyment of Marcus’ choice in outing. 

Occasionally, you’ll linger on a piece and turn to find the two men chatting amiably; Marcus more often than not gesturing excitedly at a painting or sculpture while Tim listens thoughtfully. 

Could your boyfriend be any sweeter?  You know for a fact that Tim doesn’t have any particular interest in either classical or modern art, but no one looking at the two men would ever be able to tell.  Your normally stoic and serious detective pays his friend the courtesy of his full undivided attention without hint of boredom or irritation, giving Marcus leave to effusively demonstrate expertise and enthusiasm for his favourite subject.

Gosh, you adore them both.

You, however, cannot be credited with such laser focus, no matter how much you believe the art around you deserves it.  Not when you have two such charismatic and striking specimens to ogle, whose broad wingspans and towering profiles rival the idealized proportions of the classic Greek statues on display in this very museum.

From across the gallery, you admire the backsides of both men, mouth pooling at the sight of Tim clasping both hands behind his back in a classic ‘grandpa stance’ that accentuates his beefy arms and the expanse of his back muscles; meanwhile, Marcus is the opposite of a still life, popping a slutty knee as he uses both hands to animatedly point out interesting details of the museum’s many sights, drawing your attention to the flex of his corded forearms and the thickness of his fingers. 

Are you drooling?

You can easily imagine approaching the men and slotting yourself between their hard bodies, certain that Marcus would throw an arm around your shoulders and continue his oral dissertation without missing a beat, while Tim would wrap a strong, covetous arm around your waist, maybe even cheekily palm your ass – then you’d lean into Tim while laying your head on Marcus’ hand, happily listening to likely the world’s best art history lesson.  It would feel comfortable, safe, right.

But you can’t bring yourself to interrupt them.  Detective Rockford and Agent Pike’s unbreakable bond of friendship is one of the things you appreciate most about both men and treasure for them.  To see your brilliant detective, whose intellect and world-weary instincts so often cast him as a lone hero, display such trust and faith in another law enforcement officer, makes your heart sing – despite all the corruption and darkness that beats down on those who work the force, your Tim is not alone in his goodness.

That’s to say nothing of the way your boyfriend trusts you so completely, remaining unthreatened and utterly secure in your relationship even with Marcus’ addition – every moment spent in the two men’s company only confirms for you that you love the steadiest, most admirable man on the planet. 

That Marcus would befriend your Tim is no wonder at all; the younger man is so affable and sincere, of course he would recognize his own brand of honour and integrity in an older, grittier version of himself.  The FBI agent’s even keeled temperament and unjaded charm are such complements to his friend’s much more guarded nature – both men are of such upstanding quality, they cannot help but improve the other; the openness of Marcus’ heart drawing out the pureness of Tim’s, while Tim’s razor-sharp instincts and protective nature act as an anchor for Marcus’ more idealist tendencies.

You cannot deny how your fondness for the younger man has grown since you first met him; what was once merely intrigue for his similarities to your Tim has blossomed into a true appreciation for the kind, capable and charming man who has come to hold a special place in your and Tim’s lives.

Nearing the end of the museum tour, your eye finds Marcus standing in front of a painting he had spiritedly shown you earlier; only now, he’s silent in his study, contemplative, seemingly hypnotized by the very brush strokes on the canvas.  The way Marcus stares at the painting captivates you - the woman in the portrait sharing with him some unspoken secret, transfixing him so completely.

In that moment, you wonder what it might feel like to have that same appreciation for detail and beauty set upon you - to enchant Agent Pike the same way the works of the old masters do.  The thought refuses to leave you alone, taking clearer shape and overtaking your mind as you continue to walk through the remaining exhibits with Tim, until it sparks an incendiary idea that explodes like a firework.

“Shutterbug?”  Your ever attentive boyfriend looks at you with concern, having noticed the hitch of your breath and the tensing of your frame.

You turn to Detective Rockford, eyes wide and coquettish, tugging down on his sleeve so he’ll lean in and lend you his ear – your breathy whispers grow increasingly hurried as excitement rages like a fire throughout your entire body.

---

After a light lunch, you and Tim drive Marcus to his hotel check-in; feet tired from a long morning of walking, you accept Agent Pike’s invitation to come upstairs and take a short rest in his room.

“Oh, this is so fancy!  The FBI sure knows how to treat its agents,” you tease upon entering the chic setup, eyes immediately drawn to the high-end furniture and bright bay window that offers an impressive view of the city.

“Well, when I talked to Tim last week, he suggested I upgrade to something with a king bed,” Marcus replies, mischievous smirk matching that of your boyfriend’s.

You brighten even more, delighted that the two men would conspire and make dirty plans without you.  As soon as Tim locks the door, you saunter up to him all coy, vibrating with excitement - at your detective’s little nod of approval, you close the distance and kiss him hard.

After a brief, uninhibited make-out, Tim releases you with a rough squeeze of your ass, patting your pert bum and ushering you towards his friend who has already begun to warm in anticipation of your incoming kiss.  Your lips crash against Marcus’, messy and heated, any pretense of why the three of you are in this room completely abandoned.

“Marcus?” you murmur against the press of his eager pout.

“Mmmhmmm?” the man’s roaming hands have already slipped below your waistband, palming fistfuls of your scantily clad bottom.

“Do you think you’ll miss me when you leave LA?”

Marcus pulls back, confusion evident on his handsome face, “Of course, hunny.”

“What do you think you’ll miss most?”

Still unsure of where this is going, but encouraged by the sparkle of your pretty eyes and the cute way you’re biting your lower lip, Marcus tries to articulate his honest answer, “I mean, what isn’t there to miss?  You’re so special, pretty girl… the things you do with your… and the way you make me feel… just look at you?  I…”

You tut cheekily and put a finger to Marcus’ lips to keep him from short-circuiting, “Would it help if you had something to remember me by when you go home?”

Silenced, the FBI agent cocks an eyebrow in surprise at your breathy giggles and Tim’s deep chuckle in the background; his heart thumps as you replace your finger with the lightest brush of your perfect, plush mouth,

“Want to make a movie, Agent?”

---

You’re positioned on your knees in the middle of the luxurious king-sized bed, rubbing your thighs impatiently when your weight drops from the slip of the silky-smooth bedsheets, spreading your legs even wider.  Falling forward, you brace your hands on the plush mattress and arch enticingly, showing off how good your tits look in Tim’s favourite lingerie – you know he loves the way the soft black lace sits pretty and snug, barely covering your curves, while the matching garter attaches to elastic thigh bands that do nothing but beg to be snapped.

From the opposite side of the room, already partially undressed, Tim and Marcus loom, the two men looking powerful and predatory – both eyeing you like a piece of meat.

“Shutterbug?” In contrast to Tim’s intimidating stance, his gentle drawl is so rich with love and protectiveness it makes your pussy flutter, “You ready?”

You nod so vehemently that the tops of your breasts jiggle; your panties dampen further with a fresh wave of arousal as the men approach the bed, both chuckling darkly at your eagerness.

Tim communicates one last silent look for confirmation before holding up your phone to begin filming - at the excited gleam in your eye, he presses the button to record.

*bloop*                                                                                                          

“Well, well, what do we have here, Pike?”

“Hello Detective, Agent. Fancy meeting you here,” cooing, you bat your eyelashes at the lens while angling your body like a present up for offer.

“You look like absolute sin, hunny.”

“Anything we can do for you, gorgeous?”

“I’m looking to get filled up, Detective,” you pout, trying to hide your smile as the two men each offer a low whistle in response.

“Such a dirty girl.”

“Sounds like she knows what she wants, Rockford.”

“Let’s give it to her then.”

You crawl to meet them at the edge of the bed with your ass pointed up, swaying seductively.  Wide-eyed and faux innocent, you climb Tim like a tree, appreciative that he stretches his arm out so the camera can capture the passion of your heady kiss.  Greedy for your man, you attack Detective Rockford’s mouth while your fingers working fervently to undo his pants and release his already leaking cock.  In the background, Marcus unbuttons his jeans and pushes down his bottoms, kicking them off, boxers and all; out of the corner of your eye you see his semi-hard length bobbing, ready for you - you let slip a throaty moan into Tim’s mouth at the delicious sight.

Reaching out, you take a cock in each hand, stroking both languidly as Tim leans back and pans the screen over to Marcus; the younger man smirks as he pulls you in by the neck, angling your face towards your phone so Tim can fully capture the roll of your eyes when Marcus starts kissing down your neck, zeroing in on that sweet spot behind your ear.

“Feel good, Shutterbug?”

“So good,” you whimper, the suck of the FBI agent’s mouth zinging straight between your legs.

“Time to get to work, baby.”

Pulling away from the younger man’s clean-shaven face, you slide your body backwards onto the bed and lay on your stomach, top half propped up on your elbows.  Peering up through your lashes, you’re still lazily pumping their dicks as the two strapping hulks stare back down at you, their twin expressions lustful and hungry.  Feeling so desired, powerful, you lick your lips and wink at the camera, prepared to do as your boyfriend says.

Faced with two of the most mouthwatering cocks you’ve ever seen, instinct has no choice but to take over as lust clouds your brain - you alternate between detective and agent, making sure either your mouth or hardworking hands is giving them each proper attention at all times.  Tim aims the video down at your efforts, recording every enthusiastic bob of your head, every sultry flick and swirl of your tongue, the girlish flourish with which you pop off their swollen heads; you play up to the camera: batting your eye lashes while licking slow, lingering stripes along the veins and ridges of their shafts, make loud and lewd slobbering noises with your warm mouth when their blunt tips hit the back of your throat, blowing spit bubbles as you purr your compliments – so big, so pretty.

The microphone picks up on the rumble of Tim’s chest whenever you hum happily around him; he follows with loving pets to your hair and is further rewarded with the sweetest, doe-eyed look of devotion from his girl - your eyes bright while your throat tightens around his girth.  Marcus, less practiced with the heaven of your mouth displays no such self-control; he grunts and groans like a feral animal, unabashed with his long string of exhalations as your lips stretch wide to accommodate his thick cock, loud with his gratitude for the eagerness with which you stuff yourself full of him.

“Goddamn, you look so hot taking us both, baby.”

“Best head I’ve ever had, pretty girl.”

“Such a perfect little cocksucker, isn’t she, Pike?”

“The best, buddy.  Look how turned on she’s getting just from sucking on dick.”

Marcus isn’t wrong; you’ve started grinding down on the bedspread, searching desperately for some friction, but your panties are too soaked through and slippery to find any catch.  You whimper, dejected, though the pouty shape of your lips is well suited for rubbing lengthwise over the thick cocks dangled tantalizingly before you; luckily, your detective knows your body better than you, looks out for your pleasure better than anyone. 

Smack.

Tim’s bear paw spanks one of your ass cheeks so hard, your yelp of surprise sucks Marcus so far down your throat you nearly choke.  Detective Rockford soothes it quickly with a tender caress of the reddening flesh, then dips his fingers past the cut of your lacy panties to find your core already dripping wet and waiting for his touch.  With a low growl of satisfaction, Tim slides his thick fingers through your folds, smirking at how easily you coat his digits; he tilts your phone to get a high angled view of your body squirming with pleasure when he rolls your clit under the rough pads of his fingers.

You pop off Marcus’ cock and sing your grateful praises, “Fuck, Tim!  Yes, yes!  Please I need more, you make me feel so good, baby.”

“Get on your knees, Shutterbug.  Let’s get you naked.”

Hurrying to obey, you rise on your knees so Tim can slide you drenched panties down your legs.  Marcus takes over where Tim left off; two of his firm fingers stroke your seam from behind in a worshipful pattern that has you gushing into the agent’s palm.  Meanwhile, your boyfriend expertly unhooks your bra and takes it off so that you’re now bare except for your garter – you blow him a sweet kiss through your phone screen for his help. 

Agent Pike looks over at the phone in his friend’s hand and you flit your gaze to the younger man as he continues the sweet torture of your cunt, touching you so perfectly yet leaving you still empty and needy for more.

Whining and moaning, impatient, you lay soft kitten licks to their slits and wiggle your ass lasciviously so the detective and the agent both know that you’re fully ready to be played with.  Slurping up and down Marcus’ cock while maintaining flirty eye contact with the camera, you feel Tim’s titan hand groping roughly at your chest, pulling and massaging your tits, rolling and teasing your nipples between his calloused fingers.  Closing your eyes in equal parts pleasure and gratitude, your entire body melts into Detective Rockford’s harsh handling.

He always knows exactly what you need.  Lightly cupping your face so you’ll open your eyes, Tim forces you to look right into the camera when he asks, “Do you need more, baby?”

A sweet peck to the tip of his angry head dabs your lips with glistening precum; you nod dumbly, all adoring of this hunk of a man and coo, “Yes, please, Detective.”

He squeezes your cheeks affectionately, “Roll over, Shutterbug.”

As always, you happily do as Tim says and roll onto your back, spreading yourself open to the covetous gaze of both law enforcement officers; head still at the end of the bed, your view is positively sinful: two hard, naked bodies tower over yours, making you feel ever so small and very much desired.  Unable to help yourself, you start touching your breasts with one hand while the other ventures further to glide easily through your arousal-soaked folds.  Tim grins a wolfish grin, slowly panning your phone down your naked body, zooming in on your wet fingers playing with the hood of your clit.

The men stare at your phone screen together, admiring the show until your hot little whimpers become a siren call neither of them can ignore.  Tim zooms out so that your blissful face comes into view, then reaches over your body, bobbing his leaking cock in your face; your eyes widen, spellbound, but just as you stick your tongue out for a taste, Detective Rockford grabs onto your legs.  Fingers digging into your calves, Tim’s strength sends a shockwave of pleasure straight to your cunt as he rotates you with one smooth sweep so you lay parallel to the edge of the bed.  “Tim!” you squeal, buzzing with excitement at this new position.

“Take good care of our friend from the FBI while I eat you out, okay, baby?”

It’s easy to acquiesce to your detective, his very air so authoritative and sure, it pleases you just to please him; humming your assent, you take Marcus’ rock-hard cock in hand and angle it towards your mouth, slapping it lightly against your cheek, lips, while Tim rounds the corner of the bed, camera still trained on your nude form.

The bed dips where Tim climbs on, your tank of a boyfriend parting your legs easily with one meaty hand and aiming the phone lens at your sopping wet core.

“You should see this, Pike.  She’s dripping like a faucet.”

“Can’t wait until it’s my turn for a taste.”

“She is the absolute sweetest,” murmurs Tim, filming himself as he lowers his mouth and presses a sweet kiss to your clit.  Sensitive, you arch, sighing at Tim’s expert touch, mouth dropping to form a placid o-shape into which you happily slide Marcus’ cock.  Detective Rockford captures a few more closeups of your pussy, spreading you open with two fingers and coating his tongue with fat licks of your honey before handing the phone to his friend.

Though distracted by the way your sweet mouth is blowing him, Marcus takes over the filming with aplomb, allowing your boyfriend to devote his full attention to your cunt; Tim dives in vigorously, face first and deep, sucking and slurping like a man possessed.

“Oh fffffhhh!” you moan, mouthful of the younger man’s cock – your entire frame bucks, trying to outrun the pleasure overtaking your body.  Tim laughs condescendingly straight into your pussy before plunging his nose and tongue even deeper, throwing a heavy arm across your stomach for good measure; Marcus presses a wide hand onto your chest to help pin you down - groping and grabbing at your naked tits, tugging and flicking your perked up nipples.

“Omigod, omigod, yes, yes, please, Marcus… Tim!!” you wail, dropping the agent’s heft from your mouth and into your hand so you can blindly chant the names of your lovers – gentlemen that they are, they each answer your call: Marcus angles the phone to focus on your glazed expression, purring praise about the warmth of your touch and the suck of your mouth as he caresses your face and thrusts into your fist; Tim mumbles garbled prayers straight into your core and the vibrations of his dirty exaltations fires the starting pistol below your belly and you writhe, raring to go.  To still you once more, your detective snaps the thigh bands of your garter against your sensitive skin and the sting of pain jolts you back to the present as intended; grateful, you card your fingers through Tim’s wiry locks, tugging affectionately as the pleasure he pulls from you threatens to soak his scruffy facial hair with a fresh wave of your slick.

“You’re so pretty, hunny.  You should see what I’m seeing,” breathes Marcus, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as you take his balls into your hot mouth and your soft palm continues to jerk him off.  He lowers the phone to hold in front of your face and the live view is so sexy you nearly come on the spot; the bright screen shows the plains of your naked body on the lower half of the viewfinder, your smooth skin dotting with sweat, and your supple tits being palmed and grabbed by Marcus’ oversized hand.  The upper portion of the screen displays the V of your legs being held open by Tim’s monster grip and at your pinnacle is the top half of your boyfriend’s handsome face, the lower half buried in your cunt; his salt and pepper curls bounce as he tongue fucks your drippy hole and nudges his strong nose against your clit, eyes blown wide and dark with lust until he notices you watching and makes eye contact with you through the camera.  His baby browns crinkle in mischief, winking once before he snaps your garter band again.

You throw your head back and howl, eyes squeezing shut at the smarting of your skin, then the wave of pleasure that follows to soothe it.  Hand still wrapped around your agent’s cock, you work it steadily, willing yourself to hold on as the tension winding in your lower half threatens to snap.  Cracking an eye open, you see via your phone that Tim is still watching you, the expression of his eyes piercing, focused – he forces his tongue deeper and grinds his face against your cunt.  You realize that this point-of-view is exactly what Marcus will see when he watches this video back after he’s gone home, and that Tim is putting on a show for his friend as much as he is you – this filthy thought is the last match strike needed and you come hard, gushing into Detective Rockford’s mouth.

Tim continues to lap at you gently through your high, while Marcus pulls the camera back up to capture the splendor of your afterglow, telling you repeatedly how beautiful you are as you suckle on his tip until your breathing calms and evens.  Face shiny with your arousal and eyes full of pride, Tim climbs over your body and kisses you passionately, transferring the sweetness of your taste from his tongue to yours.  He carefully cleans both your faces with the bedsheet before laying a more tender kiss to your waiting lips, one full of feeling and devotion; you whisper a soft Thank you against his pout and smile, admiring his muscular body as he climbs off the mattress to stand next to his friend again.

“What do you say, Pike? Ready to fuck my girl?”

“She did say she was looking to get filled up.”

The two men look plenty pleased with themselves as you gaze at them through your heavy-lidded eyes, dreamy expression a contrast to their lewd words; trusting them both completely, you absentmindedly play with your nipples while you wait for the two officers of the law to do with you what they will. 

Under your boyfriend’s watchful eye, Marcus passes your phone over and gets onto the bed - it’s his turn now to position your body to his liking; pulling your lower half closer so that you’re lying straight down the middle of the bed again, the FBI agent slots his impressive width between your legs.  Your head hangs slightly over the end of the bed, your view a smirking Tim leering down at you, mitt of a hand jerking his length lazily next to your pretty face while the other arm is cocked back so the camera can capture your shivering body, sandwiched between the men, all in one frame.

“Going to stuff two of your holes now, gorgeous.”

The slight quickening of your breath in anticipation is all the permission the two men need; Tim starts slowly feeding his meat down your throat just as Marcus pushes the blunt head of his cock into your heat.

“Fuck she’s tight, Rockford.”

“Baby, you need to relax that tight pussy for our friend, okay?”

Tim’s look of adoration and steadfast confidence in you always has a way of making you feel invincible; forcing yourself to breathe, you soon loosen your throat and the clench of your cunt so both men can impale you with more ease – as you mold around their hard cocks, pleasure trumps any discomfort and you relax further, sucking them each in deeper.

“Good girl.”

Once you’ve settled around him, Marcus waits, sweet and patient, for your go ahead before he begins thrusting in earnest, losing himself in the welcoming warmth of your tight, wet hole.  That first time the three of you fucked, Marcus’ touches had been more timid, his restraint admirable, but the way he’s rocking into you now is a hundred percent the man you’ve come to adore: honest and unpretentious, wonderfully sentimental; your heart balloons knowing that Agent Pike trusts you enough to unlock his passionate side and allow himself to be less temperate.  He’s safe with you and Tim, just as you know you are with him.

Marcus lets loose a string of curses and animalistic grunts as he pounds away, adding to the already loud and bawdy symphony of skin-on-skin slapping filling the hotel room.  You imagine what this filthy soundtrack might sound like played back when you and Tim revisit this video together and clench – Marcus’ strained groan of appreciation and the awe evident in the obsidian of his eyes have you fluttering around him.

“I love feeling you, hunny.”

“I love the way you feel inside, Marcus.  I love the way you both make me feel,” your voice sounds like it’s coming from somewhere far away; still spacey you turn your gaze to your generous boyfriend, who responds by lovingly tapping the swollen head of his cock against your plush lips and sliding himself back into your welcoming mouth.

In contrast to the punishing pace set by his friend, Tim saws himself in between your lips in an almost nonchalant manner, preferring to let Marcus’ hard thumping jostle you and do the work for him.  Instead, the detective focuses on filming your blissed out expression and the bounce of your pleasure-wracked body ricocheting between their hard cocks; occasionally, Tim reaches down to play with your breasts, your clit, or to spread you wider for the other man, setting you on fire with his precise touch and endless string of dirty praise:

“You’re taking our cocks so well, baby.”

“How does it feel, Shutterbug?  Does it feel as good as you look having a dick in your cunt and a dick down your throat?”

“Look at the mess you’re making of our friend, gorgeous.  You’re so perfect.”

“Love the sounds you make, baby.  Want you to get loud and we’ll give you everything you deserve, okay?”

Second orgasm rapidly building, you aim heart eyes at your boyfriend and emit needy and ruined sounds around his length, knowing that Detective Rockford will properly decode your broken signals; this steady and considerate man has never let you down and you’re positive he never will – sure enough, Tim flashes his own love-struck expression back and reaches down to swipe a fat thumb over your slippery clit.  The relief you feel is palpable, immediate; fluttering your lashes at the camera, you can only hope the love and gratitude flooding your chest shines through.

“She’s close again, Pike.  Can you feel her?”

“Her pussy is gripping me like a vice – fuck!”

“No better feeling in the world.”

“Do you want to come, pretty girl?” Marcus huffs, tone doting and eyes molten, enamored, hips still snapping with a near wild intensity.

Tim slips from your mouth as he steps back to get the wide angle shot of Agent Pike fucking his girlfriend.  “Yes, please,” you whinny at the loss of Tim’s cock while simultaneously begging Marcus’ for sweet release, “please, please, let me come, Agent.”

The younger man grabs the garter straps of your lingerie and pulls them like reins as he rides you even harder – your sweet wail as he pushes you to your limit music to the FBI agent’s ears.  He’s never beheld a more perfect sight: your luscious body at his mercy, being jolted dangerously close to the edge of the bed with every one of his ramming thrusts.  Lost in your own euphoria, you’re unaware of any such peril, and in truth, there is none – Marcus would never let you fall, never allow any harm to befall you; from the moment he was first allowed to lay a hand on you, he’s sworn to join ranks with his friend in protecting your sweetness, your heart, deliver to you every richly deserved pleasure you ask for.  Agent Pike scrawls these vows in his elegant hand over your puffy clit, crossing his Ts and dotting his Is, breaking you under his perfect penmanship. 

Fucking you gently through your climax, Marcus hovers over your body and soothes you with the calm of his air and the softness of his kisses.  Only when he’s satisfied that your legs have stopped quaking and you’re yourself enough does Marcus pull out; he grins back just as dopey to your mouthing of Thank you, Marcus.  Stretching your arms behind your head, you reach for Tim and at your summons, the older man returns to your side, handing his friend the still recording phone so he can gather you into his loving arms.

“You okay, Shutterbug?” Tim breathes into your hair, cuddling you close, protective.  You’re the luckiest girl in the world.  Melting against your detective’s hard chest, you feel a surge of tremendous affection and want for this glorious man and his never-ending indulgence.  You think back to how nervous you had been to first approach him with your dirty threesome fantasy, remembering that he hadn’t been sure but not only never judged you, but remained open for you, putting your pleasure first.  Fast forward to earlier this morning, so confident in Tim’s love and acceptance, you had been positively giddy to propose your idea of a sex tape to your detective.  During every dalliance with Marcus, your Tim has been generous, protective, trusting - he makes you feel so safe and prioritized, you don’t think you’ll ever be able to fully repay him for the way he spoils you.  That doesn’t mean you won’t try.

“I’m more than okay, thank you baby,” you purr, “just need my detective to fuck me.”

“Can’t ever deny you, gorgeous,” Tim beams, his smile full and warm, “Do you think you can stand for me?”

Nodding shyly, you let Tim help you off the bed and guide you towards the hotel room’s floor-to-ceiling window; leaning back into the safety of his embrace, you let him position you the way he wants, placing your two hands against the cool glass then kicking open your legs.  In your peripheral you see Marcus propping up your phone on the writing desk and angling the lens towards you and Tim, but you don’t have time to wonder about the agent’s cinematic vision because Tim is pushing down on your lower back so that you jut out your ass – hovering from behind with both hands palming your naked tits, Detective Rockford slides his cock home.

“Tiiiimmmmmmmm,” you sing, warm walls quickly adjusting to your man’s overwhelming size, the intrusion of his length always welcomed.  Tim snips lovingly at your earlobe, coarse facial hair rough against the side of your neck; he begins to thrust, arousal already dripping down your inner thighs as your pussy overflows with lust and want.  In the faint reflection of the glass, you catch sight of your matching expressions: lust blown, needy, debauched - and it turns you on even more.  Marcus approaches from your right admiring the same view; satisfied with his hands-free recording set-up, the younger man pulls you towards his clean-shaven face for a heated, hungry kiss before dropping to his knees.

“My turn to taste, pretty girl.” 

As Tim continues to drive into you from behind, Marcus latches on to your clit and sucks.  You practically sob at the dual sensation of being fucked and eaten out at the same time; dropping your head, you press your cheek against the window, heavy breathing and unrestrained whimpering fogging up the glass.

“Look down, baby,” commands Tim; you do as he says, shifting your gaze to the busy LA street below, “What would the people outside see if they looked up?  And if the people in the building across the street looked out their windows?”

Even though you’re on too high of a floor to be seen, and even if logically you know the hotel must have a reflective coating on its windows, you still clamp down hard at the idea of being watched while two handsome law enforcement officers pleasure your body so thoroughly.

“I think they would see the prettiest girl in LA getting her pussy destroyed.”

“Would they know I’m the second cock you’ve had in this hole today?”

“They would see what a greedy doll you are, needing two men at one time to satisfy you.”

You nod dumbly in agreement as Tim continues to rasp, breath hot and heavy in your ear, “Everyone would see how used you look, how wrecked your hot little body is and want to have piece of you for themselves.”

Always so turned on by Tim’s praising dirty talk, you now teeter on the edge of ecstasy from this hint of degradation from your ever respectful boyfriend – your cunt squeezes him tight, sure now that if he were to call you a slut or a whore, you would come on the spot.  A kink to try out, perhaps.

“But they can’t have you, can they, Shutterbug?”

You shake your head violently, whimpering, body electric.

“Because you’re ours.”

Marcus hums in agreement, licking and lapping at your throbbing nub as he jerks himself off at your feet.

And then, as if he too was fantasizing about what the future might hold, Tim wets his thumb with a raunchy pop of the mouth and presses the rough digit to your other hole.

“Marcus hasn’t had you here, has he?  What do you say, gorgeous?  Are you going let Agent Pike take your ass next time?”

He drives home the naughty implications of his words with an expert snap of his hips, plunging his cock deep into your weeping hole while rubbing tight circles around your sensitive ass hole.  At the growing pressure on your backdoor, you grind down against Marcus’ mouth and he meets you exactly where you need him, burrowing his face deeper into your heat, increasing the tempo at which he rolls and flicks his tongue over your sensitive pearl, hurtling you towards your edge.

“Yes, please, I want you both to fuck my ass!”  Filthy possibilities for your next group encounter flood your already overloaded mind and you come again without warning, sandwiched between your dominating detective and your worshiping agent.  Legs feeling like jelly, you rely on Tim to hold you upright as your body shudders from the force of your climax; he anchors your frame while continuing to fuck steadily into you from behind.  Marcus grins up at the both of you, face shiny and proud, and lays one last sweet kiss to your clit before he gets up to retrieve your phone, “Goddamn, you look beautiful when you come, hunny.”

Panting, cock drunk and delirious, you still have the wherewithal to remember that the two men have yet to come; with what remaining strength you have left, you press your palms flat against the glass and push back into Tim’s increasingly sloppy thrusts, arching your body and presenting a canvas to the men for when inspiration should strike.

“I’m close, baby,” rasps Tim, “Marcus is, too.”

Looking over your shoulder, you see the agent furiously pumping his cock and coo into the phone that he’s holding with his free hand, “Come on me, Detective.  Paint me like something you’d admire in a gallery, Agent.”

Marcus has only a split second to focus the camera on the smooth unsullied skin above your ass before he’s spilling spurts of his hot cum across the small of your back.  At his friend’s release, Tim pulls out; the loss of his heft causes you to sag, deflated, collapsing against the window and sighing the breathiest of sighs for the cool press of glass against your chest.  You hear Detective Rockford behind you stroking his length ferociously, the sound of his palm slapping, slick with your juices, sends shivers down your spine.  Further back, you see Agent Pike filming your boyfriend’s efforts – using his artistic eye to align the shot and centre Tim beating his dick and angling its pulsating tip over your body.

You know Tim is about to blow when he slams his free hand next to your head, so you purr loud enough for the camera, “Give me your cum, Detective!  Please, I need it!”  A short moment later you’re rewarded with the feel of warm milk shooting all over your ass, painting over the part of your body where Marcus recently marked you – the two men’s pooling liquid refreshing against the searing heat of your sweaty skin.

“Fuck – that’s so hot.”

“A real masterpiece, right, Pike?”

You wiggle your butt at their words of praise and Tim responds with another stinging snap of your thigh band that has you simpering pathetically; he huffs in pride before pulling the lace black belt over your hips and helping you step out of the naughty garment.

Marcus, still filming, gapes at the way the puddles of cum on your back ripple with your movements, and Tim, seeing that the obscene sight has mesmerized his friend, smirks,

“Should we paint her like the art we saw this morning?”

At the older man’s filthy suggestion, Marcus hands Tim your phone and dips two of his thick fingers into the big pot of white on your skin, scooping and swirling it all over your back, mixing and blending his seed with Tim’s.  Tim is less painter-like – he films his entire hand spreading and smearing the milky fluid down and over your ass cheeks until your entire backside is shiny with his and Marcus’ joint spend.  Kneeling, Tim slides his hand in between your peachy globes and spreads you open, giving him, Marcus and the camera a perfect view of your puckered hole. 

Fingers covered in cum, Tim slathers a generous amount over your fluttering rim in a soothing circular pattern, waiting for your tight muscles to relax before suggesting, with some crude satisfaction,

“Next time?”

Marcus dips the tip of his sticky middle finger into your unused hole and wiggles, chucking at the jump of your body from the intrusion; you moan the men’s names, too overstimulated to think.  Knowing when you’ve hit your limit, Marcus withdraws his hand and Tim lays a quick playful slap to your ass to let you know they’re done with their teasing.  The two men rise to their feet and crowd you again; Tim holds the phone high above your satisfied threesome to capture the final selfie shot.  Their cummy hands lovingly cup and sully your pretty face before the detective and the agent each take their turn laying one last appreciative kiss to your lips. 

“You did so good for us, baby.”

“You’re the ultimate dream girl, hunny.”

Perfectly supported by both men you take their thick fingers in your mouth, licking them each clean, giggling and proud at their twin looks of awe and adoration.  More satisfied and content than you’ve ever felt, you blow a final flirty kiss to the camera before Tim presses the stop button.

*Beep bloop*

---

After everyone has come down from your collective high and you’re snuggled up cozy and pliant in Tim’s arms, you hear Marcus go and turn on the shower.  A few moments later, your agent and your detective gently lead you to the bathroom where all three of you step into the spacious rainforest shower.

You’re still leaning against Tim, safe in his reliable hold, when the warm water starts to rain over your heads.  For a few quiet and contemplative minutes, the three of you allow the invigorating spray to run down your bodies, refreshing and breathing life back into each of you.  A new start.  No longer beholden to the primal lust that ran through your veins only a short while ago, your threesome stands together comfortably, secure, bonded by something even stronger: belonging.  The shower starts to run hot, perfect for relaxing your used and tired muscles, and before long, the glass stall traps steam like a sauna, making you even sleepier still.

“Do you think you can stand on your own, Shutterbug?” your Tim asks, voice caring and fond.

You smile and silently nod, still unsure of your own voice, as the men arrange themselves to bracket your free-standing body; Marcus then washes your hair from behind, while Tim soaps up your body with the hotel’s luxury wash from the front.  When Detective Rockford’s rough hands sweep over your swollen and abused pussy, you cannot help but whimper; Tim pulls back his hand sharply at the sad noise, worried eyes finding yours, big brown eyes overflowing with concern and contrition.  You reassure your considerate detective with a passion-filled kiss – yes, you’re sore but any discomfort felt is not only welcomed, but borne with pride; relieved, Tim reciprocates his relief with equal feeling.  Soon, you’re melting again into your detective’s embrace, lulled further into complacency by Marcus’ gentle massaging of your back and his own sweet kisses to your shoulders.

Once everyone is clean, the men dry and dress you in a fluffy hotel robe then bring you over to the king-sized bed Marcus so considerately ordered.  You’re already halfway asleep when they tuck you in under the covers; Tim lays a soft kiss to your hair and whispers that he’ll go home and fetch you some comfy clothes, but that Marcus will stay in the room with you.  You love how much he trusts you - and Marcus.  You love him.

“Come back to me safe, Detective Rockford,” you whisper, eyes already closed.

“Nothing could keep me from you, Shutterbug.  I love you,” he recites, his familiar words the last thing you hear before you fall into a deep, well-earned slumber.

---                 

Some time after night has fallen over the city, you stir to the delicious smell of warm food. Still wandering somewhere between dreamland and the waking world, you overhear a conversation that your semiconscious brain only partially comprehends.

“Sorry, that took me a while, Pike.  Had to stop by the precinct for a bit.”

“No problem, buddy – I’ve been working too, finished up on some conference stuff.  You made it just in time for room service.”

“And her?”

“Slept like an angel this whole time.”

“That’s our girl.”

“Our girl?” The emphasis of Marcus’ question is not lost on your dozy, only half-awake mind; the curiosity in the agent’s voice indicative that he, like you, had heard Tim’s possessive growl of ownership while balls deep in your cunt earlier, unsure if it had been a slip of the detective’s tongue, or if Tim had intentionally said ours instead of mine.

A meaningful pause fills the room; the same words that break the silence breaks the spell of your restful sleep – you can hear Tim smile, “Yeah, our girl.”

Tagging a few horndogs lovelies who have been so supportive on the previous parts and/or expressed an interest in this threesome - thank you for waiting for them!!

@just-ashlee @aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @peepawmiller @daltoncharm

@lillaydee @iamladyp @thundermartini @guelyury @harriedandharassed

@sawymredfox @baronessvonglitter @tateypots @indiegirlunited @time-for-my-weekly-spanking

@kedsandtubesocks @kedsandtubesocks @inept-the-magnificent @kokoluwie @simpingforjoel

[tateypots]

Oh my God Emily! Your writing is so incredible, I don’t know how you can take the filthiest situations and make them so warm and cosy and sensuous.

Agent Pike scrawls these vows in his elegant hand over your puffy clit, crossing his Ts and dotting his Is, breaking you under his perfect penmanship. 

I mean, this is poetry pure and simple!

This was an absolute dream to read. Tim and Shutterbug are one of my all time favourite pairings and when Marcus is added to the mix? 🥵🥵😮‍💨 I know I’m a goner before going in!

This is a work of art. Much like that video would be 😉 thank you for giving this to us! ❤️

[baronessvonglitter]

Wip Thursday

thanks for the tags @petalsinblood @vodkaandpizza @milla-frenchy @sawymredfox @time-for-my-weekly-spanking 🌞

Well it's summertime, and I had an idea for a summer camp themed fic starring Joel Miller, the man I'd love to see in some 1980s short-shorts:

You try to keep yourself busy with helping get the camp ready. The grass near the cabins is maintained, repairs are made to the buildings themselves (which Joel oversees, and you can’t help but to check him out a little while he’s fixing the sign above the infirmary – he looks too good with a hammer), checking that the generators are working properly, and that the electrical system and water pressure are good.

There’s so much to do that by the time you climb up into your bunk you fall asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow.

The only thing that could possibly wake you is Joel fucking Piper in the bunk below yours.

Joel’s grunts and groans, paired with Piper’s moaning and gasping, keep you awake. You lose count of how many rounds they go, the entire bed bunk frame shaking with their movements. And at one point you can’t help it as your fingers travel beneath your sleep shorts, finding your wet pussy and tracing your slit. Two fingers fit inside you easily as you lift your legs to get comfortable. Closing your eyes you start fucking yourself on your hand, imagining Joel’s fingers inside of you instead of yours. 

no-pressure tagging @rosharanfiction @aurorawritestoescape @604to647 @tateypots @ace-turned-confused @clawdee @hauntedinkk @ashleyfilm @ess-evo @maggiemayhemnj and anyone who sees this and wants to play, please consider yourself tagged 💙

[tateypots]

This is so hot! Fucking in a bunk bed is diabolical if you’re not going to let the other person join 😉

[petalsinblood]

Couple Trouble

Part 1 out of 2

Pairing: Dave York x f!reader

Summary: Your last and most important mission with Dave doesn't exactly go ad planned. But in the chaos he still shows his unwavering love for you.

Warnings: established relationship, MDNI (+18), mentions of blood and injuries (we're still talking about Dave here), swearing, brief mention of drugs, close call situations, killing, death of a character (not Dave or reader), heavy make out session, fingering, mutual masturbation, semi-public

Word count: 8.7k

Author's note: Alright, bear with me guys, please! This turned out to be a lot longer than I expected. This is my submission for @tateypots' Naughty or Nice Challange. And this is also my first Dave story. Thank you for the beta-reading again @bergamote-catsandbooks. I love you! ❤️

“Dave, come on,” you call out from downstairs impatiently, leaning against the wall next to the front door. You look down at your watch, checking the time before speaking again. “We don’t have much time to pull this whole thing, you know.”

You hear hurried footsteps coming from upstairs, and moments later he is coming down the stairs. He is holding his usual black suitcase in one hand, full of all the things you could possibly need. Ropes, different kinds of pistols, bullets, knives. Most of the things a killer would need to do the job correctly.

With his free hand he adjusts his his black tie, letting it fall perfectly on his chest, hand smoothing over the material one last time.

“Goddamn,” he murmurs under his breath, looking around in the living room when he comes to a stop beside you.

“What did you forget?” you ask him, smoothing down the collar of his suit jacket. “If we would need it, then the poison is in my purse.”

“No, it’s not that,” he says with clear frustration in his voice. He turns back to you, his eyes widening at the sight of your dress hugging your body perfectly, only realizing now what you are wearing, his eyes widening at the sight of your dress hugging your body perfectly. “Not saying, but you know, we could also stay at home.”

“Dave!”

“Alright, alright,” he holds up his hands in front of him in surrender, his gaze turning to the room again to scan it one more time. “Have you seen my pistol? I looked for it everywhere, but I couldn’t find it. I swear I put it in the drawer of my bedside table, but it isn’t there.”

“Which one?” you ask innocently, and he shoots you a look. “You have a few, so I need a little hint.”

“My Beretta.”

“Ah, I see,” you let out a quiet sigh. You pick up your purse from the counter beside the door, taking out the said pistol, and holding it up in front of you, so he can see it too. “You mean this one?”

He looks back at you, eyes going back and forth between you and the gun. Finally he takes a few steps toward you, taking the weapon from your hand, and reaching back to shove it in his pants.

“I won’t even ask questions,” he murmurs with a sigh, picking up the suitcase again, getting ready to go. 

But before he can reach for the door handle, you stop him with one hand splayed against his chest, studying his face. His eyebrows knit together, waiting for your next move. You reach up to comb back his hair that had grown longer, tucking a stray curl behind his ear, but your fingers get stuck in the string of the eye patch he is wearing. He lets out a quiet sigh, turning his gaze behind you on the wall.

Your finger is running back and forth across the strap, the leather feeling softer than anything under your touch.

“Is this a new one?” you ask carefully, not wanting to force the answer out of him.

“Yeah. The old one was really worn out,” he explains, hand lifting to adjust it slightly, pulling it more over his eye.

“It suits you,” you let your hand fall to his jaw, thumb moving against the coarse stubble that he started to grow out after you told him that it looked good on him.

He lets himself get lost in the moment for a second, your compliment echoing in his ears, but he quickly regains his composure, thinking about the job at hand. He clears his throat as he reaches behind you, opening the door with his free hand.

“Alright. Last job, only one person. We go there, get in the house, kill him, and we get out of this fucking town. Somewhere more quiet, alright? Just us,” he explains, telling you the plan like you didn’t think about it together. When you nod he leans down, stealing a kiss from you before he straightens up, motioning towards the car that is waiting for you outside.

“After you, Mrs. Sinclair,” he says, the fake name rolling off his lips easily, making a smile creep onto your face.

You step out onto the porch, waiting for him as he locks the door. Your eyes turn towards the street, noticing the quiet pour of the rain, small puddles forming on the road.

“It’s raining,” you announce, whipping your head back in time to see Dave taking off his jacket. Your eyes widen, remembering the gun that he put in his pants in a hurry. You are beside him in two quick steps, looking into his eyes, trying to get him back in his jacket. “Have you gone insane?”

“Why?” he asks with a shrug, making an attempt to hold the suit jacket above your head.

“Your pistol,” you whisper so only he can hear you, but he just lets out a quiet laugh, looking at you like you just said something unbelievable.

“It’s good where it is,” he answers, nodding towards the stairs. But when you don’t move an inch he looks back at you with a sigh. “No one will notice it. I swear every second person has a gun on them in this neighborhood.”

“What do you mean no one will notice it?” you go on. “Have you seen that old lady next door? She’s always at her window, ready for some drama. And if it’s not her then it’s one of her cats out of the six,” you finish.

“You worry too much, darling,” he chuckles, wrapping one hand around your waist, and holding his jacket above you with his other one. He leads you down the stairs, the water splashing under you as you make your way to the car. Before you can say anything, he opens the door for you, holding it open, and waiting patiently as you climb in.

He makes sure one more time that you are comfortable before he closes the door, the sound echoing in the small space being washed away by the rhythmic fall of the rain. You watch how he drapes his jacket over his arm as he makes his way around to the driver’s seat, and you can’t help but look how drenched his shirt becomes, how it sticks to his body, muscles visible under the white fabric. You let out a quiet sigh, quickly averting your gaze as he climbs into the car too.

“Damn this weather,” he mutters under his breath. His hand lifts to push his hair back, his fingers combing through the rain-soaked strands. He aims his body towards yours, a sheepish smile spreading across his face before its replaced by a teasing smirk. “So, do you think the cats saw us? Will they gossip about it in the neighborhood?”

You put your index across his mouth to stop him, feeling embarrassed. “I shouldn’t have told you this. Now you’re going to bring this up every chance you get.”

“It’s not true,” he manages to speak, wrapping his hand around your wrist gently, and guiding it on the console between you. “Only every second chance.”

“God, I hate you,” you exclaim, rolling your eyes.

You hear him chuckle beside you, followed by the rattle of his keys. The engine roars to life moments later, and you mimic his movements when he puts on his seatbelt.

“So the plan,” he starts, driving out of the driveway, speeding down the street. Your head turns in his direction, eyes trailing across his features. His hair streaked in some places with silver now soaked, his aquiline nose, his plush lips that you have kissed so many times before, his jaw that is now ticking with nervousness and anticipation.

“He knows that we’re coming, but he thinks that we’re there for business.”

“In some way we are there for it. But for a more bloody and merciless one,” you interrupt. He smirks at your words, releasing the gear stick to put his hand on your thigh, squeezing down and not letting go.

“He will willingly let us in his house, and he will even show us around. When we see that he is more relaxed and comfortable, that’s when we will strike. The moment he turns his back on us a bullet will greet his brain,” he explains, steering the car into a narrow street with less houses.

“And if he doesn’t, then comes the poison,” you shook your bag slightly, the contents in it clinking against each other.

You remember how he handed it to you the other night, explaining what was in it, how it could end someone’s life in less than a minute. You had never seen him speak about something so enthusiastically before, and even if you were planning someone’s death, somehow the glint in his eyes made your heart melt.

“Where did you get it again?” you question, the warmth of your hand enveloping his on your thigh.

“Old friend. He knows what he’s doing,” he tells you.

You feel his hand turn, his fingers intertwining with yours, and you let out a content sigh at the rough, but familiar callouses on his palm that you already know so well.

Quiet settles over the car, only the soft music is playing on the radio, the soft rhythm surrounding you in small waves. You allow yourself to lean your head against the window, the cold a stark contrast against the warmth inside the car. Your eyes follow the drops cascading down the glass, having a fictional race where the fog of your breath is the finish line.

With every taken mile you feel the weight of the situation settle over you more than before, your brain sending out warning signs that travel through your whole body. What if things go wrong? What if the poison doesn't work? What if you aren't able to escape?

You have never been one to worry. Ever since your first job only one thing floated in front of your eyes every time: kill the person, cross out their name. It surprisingly filled you with thrill when you felt your knife drive through flesh like butter, or when you saw how the blood spread on the ground creating a puddle. But you never felt empathy for these people. Not for those who deserved it, who have done worse in their life.

But somehow along the way the thrill dissipated, leaving behind only sheer realization. You weren’t better than them just because you put them in their grave, saving the world from more injustice. With every crossed out name added to your reputation, with every drop of blood shed, with every risky mission you only got closer to your own death too.

So you stopped.

You got yourself a real job that paid well. You got rid of everything that could have reminded you of your past, and you never looked back.

Until you met Dave.

He seemed like a nice and normal man the moment he first approached you. Not long after he invited you on a drink, you started going out more often, but you noticed the moment he started acting more suspiciously. Of course you saw it, you lived the same life as him before you stopped.

At first you were afraid that maybe he would pull you back into this shady world, but after your conversation about it, he never brought it up again. He told you when he would be away, but he never talked about his job in more details.

You spare a glance in his direction, your gaze settling on the eye patch pulling tight over his left eye.

You remember that day clearly, when he said that he was going on an important mission. He warned you, gave you the exact address where he was going. You clearly remember the argument that came after you told him that you were going to go after him if he wasn’t back after a few hours.

And when he didn’t come back, even after sunset, you decided to find him, to go to the exact location he gave you. And how glad you were that you did.

You found him on the brink of death, laying there between the rocks as the waves crashed over him. His body was battered and bruised, his heart barely beating under your palm, a small pool of blood gathering around him. But he was still alive. Still breathing.

His recovery wasn’t easy.

You had to explain to him where you found him, why his body was so weak when he tried to move around too much. Explain how he went blind in one eye, a scar running across the area, marking him for the rest of his life. He tried to deny things, tried to gain back control even when his body was plastered with scars, even when the easiest movements seemed impossible.

It took him nearly two years to regain his energy, his strength, but he was still a shadow of the man he used to be.

You were glad that he never pushed you away, never tried to reject you when you wanted to help him. And God, you were glad that he was still alive. Still breathing beside you every night. Still holding you close every chance he got.

You are pulled out of your thoughts by a low curse coming from Dave, and it’s soon followed by the sound of a siren. Your eyes fall on the mirror, and soon enough a police car pulls up behind you. Your blood immediately runs cold in your veins, and panic settles in you.

Dave keeps a calm composure for you as well, as he pulls out his hand from your hold, steering the car to the side of the road, and stepping on the brake.

“Try to not say anything, alright?” His words reach you, and you can only nod, fishing in your bag to find the fake ID that he had done for you. Your fingers bump against the small vial that contains death itself, and you swallow hard to keep your emotions at bay.

“Hey, look at me.” You you feel his fingers gently take hold of your chin, turning your head in his direction. His soft brown eyes meet yours, now filled with worry and love at seeing your fumbling. “They won’t arrest us, alright? We will give them our fake IDs and some information, and then we’re out of here,” he reassures you, searching for a silent agreement. When he sees just a small flicker in your eyes, he leans forward, placing a chaste kiss on your forehead.

At the touch of his lips you almost get lost in the moment, but before you can say anything a chain of firm knocks break the silence in the car.

You pull back, watching how his face changes from a gentle expression to a calmer and more serious one, the lines on his face darkening again as he pulls down the window. “Good afternoon, officer.”

“Afternoon,” the man greets, leaning down to have a better look into the car, at both of you. You purse your lips, forcing a smile on your face, hoping he won't notice how much you are actually sweating. “IDs and driver’s license please,” he commands.

Dave hands over his documents without a word, and you follow him, your card nearly slipping from your fingers into his lap because of the nerves.

When the man in the uniform takes it you let out a soft sigh, leaning back in your seat. Your eyes find Dave’s form, travelling lower on his body, and you nearly let out a loud gasp when your gaze fixes on the gun still in the back of his pants, the handle sticking out. You wait until the police officer turns away, moving quickly.

You push Dave forward without warning, getting hold of the pistol and throwing it on the backseat, the weapon bouncing off of the leather, landing on the ground with a low thud. Dave sends you a glare that could kill, pursing his lips as he looks in the rearview mirror before he glances at the officer.

“Everything seems right,” he finally say, giving back your documents. “Drive safe and slow, sir.”

Dave only nods, pulling the window back up, and that’s when you notice the amount of water that fell in while the man was scanning your cards. He stays still until the police car disappears in the distance, but he quickly turns to you, eyes sending daggers in your direction.

“This,” he points towards the backseat, looming over you. “This little move of yours could have easily got us in jail,” he whispers angrily.

“Maybe you should have put your gun away when I told you,” you say indifferently, shrugging your shoulder.

His jaw ticks, but he stays silent, only letting out a low hum as he grips the steering wheel again. You roll your eyes at his behavior, but you lean against the window again, allowing the cold to calm you down before you arrive at the house. Before you do that thing you vowed to yourself you would never do again.

The rest of the road goes smoothly, and even the storm seems to sense what is going to happen, stopping abruptly when you roll up to the street where the house is located.

You and Dave both agreed the day before that you shouldn’t park in front of the place, not wanting to catch anyone’s attention, so instead he stops the car at a respectable distance. His eyes narrow as he scans the area, looking for the escape routes that he already planned out.

You know that look. Not because you have seen him work before, but because you were so careful once too. It was a habit, almost the most important one. Even when you plan out everything beforehand, you can never be too sure about how it’s actually going to play down when the time comes. And in moments like these, escape routes are as necessary as water to a thirsty wanderer.

“There’s a backdoor that leads to the garden, but from there we can get out through the little gate.” He explains it so casually that you think that he might have been here before without you.

“Are you saying that just from the top of your head?”

“No, I know,” he answers grumpily, leaning forward in his seat so he can have a better look at a small alley hidden behind a bush.

A quiet sigh leaves your lips, and you start to play with your fingers, trying to ease the nerves that are raging inside of you, and the poor skin around your nails is the target. Your eyes fall onto the rearview mirror, and a wicked idea crosses your mind.

Without announcing, you unbuckle your seatbelt and start to move around until you are kneeling in the seat.

To your movements Dave looks in your direction, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. You just shake your head with a smirk, leaning over the front seats to try and pick up the gun from the floor. The position makes your dress ride up, and Dave has to focus hard to not look down at your exposed thighs.

You try to stretch as far as you can, and you let out a sound of triumph when your fingers meet the cold metal of his pistol.

Meanwhile Dave is trying to keep his control in check, running the plan through his head again and again, but his curiosity gets the better of him, and he spares a glance at you.

His restrain instantly breaks when he sees you still bent over, ass sticking out in the air. He feels himself twitch in his perfectly tailored pants, and he subtly reaches down to try and adjust himself.

God, when was the last time you two had time together? Days? Weeks? Maybe even months? Dave can’t even remember anymore. He was too busy with trying to get back into his old shape, and you were too occupied with nursing him. Dave would be lying to himself if he says that he doesn’t need you.

“Damn it,” he curses under his breath, trying to chase away the images of you naked, moaning his name over and over again.

“Everything alright?” you ask while pretending innocence, returning to your seat and holding out the pistol towards him.

His eyes jump to the gun before he reaches out—only after he makes sure that his other hand is covering his crotch—and takes the Beretta from your hand. He doesn’t dare to look up, knowing well that you have a smirk on your mouth while watching as he tries to control his boner.

“I’m fine,” he clears his throat.

“Can we go then?” you ask, your hand already on the door handle.

“Just give me a few minutes, alright?” he asks, avoiding your eyes. You chuckle softly, opening the door and climbing out. He stays in, but your appreciate the quiet, taking in a deep breath. The fresh air mixes with the smell of rain, and it immediately calms you down.

It seems like a calm neighborhood as you study it. A few dogs barking here and there, the birds chirping on the trees, some looking for food on the ground. No people walking on the streets except one suspiciously intoxicated man who is determined to get close to you.

You try to step closer to the car, signaling him that you are not alone, but it doesn’t do anything.

“Hey. Do you have some fire by any chance?” His words are slurred, the cigarette almost falling out of his mouth as he speaks. You shake your head, and take a step backwards when he leans close to you, the smell of alcohol hitting your nose, a strong contrast to the smell of rain. “Do you want speed?”

You look at him completely confused. Is he really trying to sell you hard drugs in broad daylight?

You shake your head again. He shrugs his shoulders, one hand reaching out towards you, and without any hesitation your palm lands straight on his left cheek with a loud crack.

Dave, who is watching the whole interaction from the car, is trying to control himself and not just climb out of the car and strangle the man in the middle of the street. When he sees the man trying to reach for you, his hand is on the handle in an instant, gun in hand, but he stops his movement, watching the man stumble back from your slap.

You eyes follow the man who suddenly walks away, and you turn your head when you hear the car door shut next to you. Dave is leaning against the car, looking at you with amusement glinting in his eyes. He already put his jacket back on, and you are sure that the gun is resting in the back of his pants again. “That was hot.”

“You never said that it was hot when I slapped you,” you say, smiling at how he rolls his eyes.

“Yeah because those hurt like hell, and I never saw it from the outside.”

“Isn’t there somewhere we need to be?” you ask, starting to walk.

You stop in your tracks when you hear his voice behind you. “Wrong direction, darling. The house is at the other end of the street.”

You let out a heavy sigh as you turn around, watching him stand on the pavement with his hands deep in his pockets. The click of your heels is loud as you walk back to him. You reach out to tug his hand out from his pocket, lacing your fingers with his, and he just lets out a low chuckle as you start to pull him with you now in the right direction.

From the outside you probably seem like a normal couple on their way to a date, dressed in fancy clothes. Not two former assassins ready for their last kill before fleeing to somewhere quieter.

He subtly points towards the house when it comes into view. Your eyes widen at the sight. Not because you haven’t seen it from photos before, but because it looks so much bigger in real life than on some pictures taken with a camera. You are not even sure anymore if it’s considered to be a house or a mansion.

“Are you sure that the man is going to be alone?” you ask with uncertainty in your voice. If he has such a big house then there must be some bodyguards too.

“I’m sure.”

“But what if there are other people in there too? I have a very bad feeling about this whole thing,” you murmur. He stops in his steps, turning towards you. His free hand raises to rest gently on your cheek, his eyes softening at your worried expression.

“It’s going to go as we planned, alright? And if it doesn’t,” he stops, leaning his forehead against yours. “then I have the most beautiful partner in crime, and we’re gonna solve it together.”

“I don’t think my beauty would matter in this.” You shake your head as you pull back slightly, and he just smiles at you.

“It will matter to me because whenever I’ll look at you, I’ll know who I’m killing for.” He finishes it with a soft kiss to your mouth, his stubble scratching against your chin.

When he breaks the kiss you look up at him, a soft giggle leaving your lips. “That wasn’t really romantic.”

“Let’s see how you’ll like it when I actually do it,” he murmurs, squeezing down on your hand before turning you both towards the house, starting to walk again with a newly found positivity.

From up close the mansion is even more beautiful. The walls are solid, bright white like a storm hasn’t just passed by. You admire the little garden full of different and colorful flowers as you climb up the steps of the house.

It all just seems so peaceful. Little bees doing their job, birds jumping in the well-cut grass while looking for earthworms that came out of hiding after the rain washed over the ground.

But your heart still can’t settle.

The warmth of Dave’s hand in yours — a gesture that usually calmed you — is now like a kiss to death, not having any effect. And the smell of the rain is not calming you anymore either.

Dave turns to you one last time when you reach the door, raising your joined hands to place a soft kiss on yours before letting go. He hits the button on the intercom next to you on the wall, waiting patiently.

The wait isn’t long, but it is enough for your thoughts to start racing again. The reality of the situation hits you with such force that you are scared of putting up a show by having a panic attack.

You don’t remember being this panicked and scared before in any of your missions. Not even your first one. So why does this feel so different?

Your body tenses when you hear the low male voice coming from the intercom. “Yeah?”

You step back slightly, letting Dave speak, but you still try to force a friendly smile on your face to not look too suspicious.

“Sir, I’m Mr. Sinclair, and,” he looks at you, guiding you more into the camera of the intercom. “This is my wife, Mrs. Sinclair. We tried to arrive a bit earlier, so we could have more time to discuss the details of the offer.”

“Ah, that’s amazing. Please, come in.”

You hear a soft beep followed by the click of the front door as it swings open.

You see an older man standing there in perfectly tailored suit with grey hair and well-kept beard, an inviting smile on his face as he holds out his hand towards Dave.

Your husband accepts it, shaking the man’s hand firmly. You just look from the side, not really sure what to do, but then the older man’s eyes turn in your direction. He releases Dave’s hand, and he comes closer to you, taking your hand in his as he places a soft kiss on the back of it.

Exactly where Dave’s lips were just minutes ago.

He doesn’t take his eyes off of you, but you dare to spare a glance at your husband next to you.

His jaw is clenched, eyes focused on that small area of your skin where the man is still touching you. You can see so many things playing behind his lashes. Impatience, disgust, but what’s the most visible is protectiveness.

Relief floods you when the man finally let’s go of your hand, and you let out a soft sigh. He steps into the house again, inviting you inside, and with Dave’s hand on the small of your back you step through the door.

The brightness of the mansion hits you unexpectedly, and you have to squint your eyes for a second.

The whole place looks like you just stepped into a movie or a book where the main character is rich, and can’t put their money anywhere else so they buy a modern house instead. But the luxury can’t calm you either.

“Would you like something to drink?” the man asks, his eyes traveling back and forth between you and Dave. You shake your head, rejecting the offer, and Dave mimics you. The man just shakes his head, shrugging his shoulders as he leads you further into the mansion. “Either way, I’m going to get myself something strong.”

Your eyes meet Dave’s beside you, your hand instinctively moving on your bag, the outline of the poison pressing into your palm. He nods just a little so only you can see it.

“Mr. Bennet,” Dave says his name, and the old man looks at him after he pours himself a glass of whiskey. “Can I use the bathroom?”

The man squints his eyes in suspicion, but he places his glass down, walking around the counter to put his hand on Dave’s shoulder and start guiding him out of the kitchen area. Dave looks at you one last time, lips pursing as he nods, and finally disappears with Mr. Bennet.

You are not sure what to do.

Years ago you were more confident when it came to killing. Pouring poison into someone’s drink without hesitation. Shooting people in the head without thinking twice. Snapping someone’s neck, the sound of the bones cracking reminding you of someone walking on twigs and dried leaves. Something so strong that it can keep together a human being, but still so fragile when the person twists it correctly.

Your hand disappears inside your bag, and you pull out the small vial of poison. You turn it around a few times, watching how the liquid flows in it.

Your eyes then fall on the glass of whiskey left on the counter, and without hesitation you step closer. With one last look towards the door of the kitchen you unscrew the vial, pouring the content of it into the glass, watching how the transparent liquid mixes with the golden one.

You swirl the glass a few times before you put away the vial.

And you wait.

You try to look as natural as possible, but the nerves bleed through your facade. You’re walking up and down, playing with the strap of your bag, looking out the window.

You have a clear view of the huge backyard, and a smile creeps onto your face when you see the flowers neatly planted in a line. But your smile instantly fades when you hear a loud thud coming from upstairs followed by a loud gunshot.

At first you think Dave couldn’t wait, and saw the perfect moment to attack, but then you hear the sounds of struggling and fighting, and you are on alert in an instant.

You walk out slowly from the kitchen, going in the direction of the stairs. You climb the steps carefully while in your head you are trying to come up with an idea on how to attack without gaining too much attention.

But the sight that welcomes you on top of the stairs is not something that you are prepared for.

It isn’t just Dave anymore and Mr. Bennet. There are unknown men dressed all in black. Five of them. Dave is fighting for his life, trying to push back one of the man who has him in a choke hold, elbowing him in the ribs a few times.

You gather everything in yourself not to make a big entrance. Instead you quickly walk to one of the walls, hiding behind it, and you start measuring your chances.

The men are far stronger than you, that’s not a question. But you know that you have a long history of killing and attacking without anyone noticing. You also know that Dave can hold out a bit longer.

You try to look around, your eyes searching for Mr. Bennet, but you can’t find him in the chaos.

Dave lets out a loud grunt as he leans his head back forcefully, and all you can see is the man stumbling back, holding his bleeding nose. You still don’t say anything, but it is almost like Dave senses your presence because he looks in your direction. He knows he can’t allow himself the luxury of watching you too long for two reasons. One, he would become an easy target if his attention shifts somewhere for a long time. And two, he would give your hiding spot away.

He moves effortlessly between the men, and your eyes widen when he gets behind one of them, easily letting a bullet in their head.

The man falls hits the ground, a pool of blood immediately spreading around his head. A bloody halo.

One down, four more to go.

You still don’t know what to do. It is almost like your body is paralyzed, and all you can do is watch how Dave takes down two more men.

One man is left for him, and one is left for you. But when you finally decide to move from behind the wall, strong hands pull you back. Your survival instincts kick in, and you try everything you learned back in the day to get out of the unknown man’s hold. But your eyes widen the moment you throw your head back in an effort to see the man better.

Because it is not one of Bennet’s men. It is Mr. Bennet himself.

He looks at you with a chilling smile, and you let out a loud sound close to a scream, close to a painful moan as his hand falls around your neck and squeezes it down.

You try to keep your breathing in check, trying to not use up as much oxygen as you would usually do, but the panic sets in as he squeezes down harder. Your vision starts to blur, and you can only hear the sound of fighting faintly now.

“You two really thought that I wouldn’t be prepared?” you hear his voice beside your ear, but you don’t have enough energy to answer.

But before your world turns completely black, the hands disappear from your throat, and you fall forward against the wall. Your vision is still blurry, hands shaking, and you take deep and long breaths, your lungs filling with oxygen again.

Your ears are ringing, but even through the unwanted sound you can hear loud grunts and bones cracking.

When you look back, you see Mr. Bennet laying on the ground while Dave is straddling his chest, punches raining down against the old man’s face.

The deep red color of blood swims into your vision too, and now you can see clearly how bloody Mr. Bennet’s face is, as well as Dave’s knuckles. Though you don’t know anymore if it’s only the old man’s blood or if it is already mixed with Dave’s.

Either way, your husband sees red. His knuckles are raw from the punches, but he doesn’t stop. He feels tired, but he gathers more energy with each attack. He doesn’t look to the side. Only one goal floats in front of his eyes.

Killing Mr. Bennet.

You move slowly, crawling across the floor to the struggling bodies. You place your hand on Dave’s back, but he doesn’t look back at you, doesn’t stop his punches. So you move your hand upwards, caressing the hand he is holding down Mr. Bennet with.

Still nothing.

So you do what you think might work.

“Dave, stop,” you call out softly, placing your hands on his face and turning it towards you. He falters for a second, his messed up hand hovering in the air for a second before he let it fall beside his body.

“Are you… Are you alright?” he asks, his eyes scanning your face for any signs of pain or discomfort. Then you see his gaze shift down to your throat, and by the way he purses his lips you already know that bruises started to form where the man’s hand was squeezing down.

“I’m okay, but we need to go,” you remind him, and you can see the hesitation in his eyes as he looks back at the man laying motionless under him.

“I said that I would kill for you,” he says, glancing back at you with a determined look. “He’s not dead yet.”

“Dave, he’ll suffer enough even like this. We have to go. Now.”

“No,” he shakes his head, reaching for his gun. “A job is only done when we kill our man. Or did you already forget that? You worked in this for years too. You should know the rules.”

His words and tone suddenly hit you, and it all just makes you see even clearer. It isn’t the bruise on your neck that causes you pain. It is his words. Because he knows all too well that you tried so hard to forget everything about your past, that you tried to live a normal life without remembering any of these rules.

You know it is not him speaking, that it is just the adrenaline working, but it still hurts.

So you slowly push yourself to a standing position, looking down at him. “I’ll be waiting in front of the house.”

You see the way he slightly nods, but his mouth stays closed, and without another word you turn around. Your steps are still a bit unsure, and you need to hold on to the railing as you go down the stairs.

You don’t look back when you close the front door behind you, but you let out a long, relieved sigh. You lean against one of the walls, throwing your head back, and closing your eyes, thinking about what just happened.

There was supposed to be only Mr. Bennet in the house. He was supposed to be an easy target. And instead Dave needed to take down five men by himself, and also end Mr. Bennet’s life while all you could do was watch from behind a wall.

You feel guilty for not being able to do anything. You curse under your breath as you reach up to comb through your hair, and try to look more decent. You pull down your dress, and then you fix the strap of your bag so it sits strap comfortably against your shoulder.

You jump a little when the door opens minutes after.

Dave appears beside you, and it seems like he took a quick trip to the bathroom because his hand is not drenched in blood anymore. His eyes immediately fall on you, and he steps closer. His hand reaches for yours. “I’m sorry.”

You close your eyes at the apology, the words rolling off his tongue softer than he was with you upstairs. “We’ll talk about it at home, alright?”

He nods before he starts walking, pulling you with him, and you follow wordlessly. The enormous mansion becomes smaller and smaller with each step you take away from it, and deep inside you are grateful that both of you made it out of there safe and sound.

You go through the same street which you walked through when you arrived here. The only difference is the six lifeless body that you left in there instead of only one.

Your car comes into view, and you sigh heavily at the sight of it.

This time Dave doesn’t open the passenger door for you, but you don’t mind. The most important right now is getting away as soon as you can, and that means moving as fast as possible.

The engine roars to life as Dave turns the key, and in seconds he is already pulling out of the street. You don’t miss the way he looks in your direction in the rearview mirror though, and you appreciate the gesture when he places his hand on your knee in an attempt at grounding you. You return it, placing your hand on top of his like you did before when you were rushing to get to the house, and you squeeze down.

In that moment a quiet, relieved laugh breaks out of him, and the soft sound pulls you in too. You are laughing and chuckling in the car, something completely surreal given the fact that Dave just took away the life of six people.

“I fucking love you,” he says between two laugh, glancing to the side at you.

“I love you too,” you say it back. And then you lean closer to him, placing your chin on his shoulder, your mouth grazing his ear as you speak softly. “But you really shouldn’t have shot that poor old man.”

“A rule is a rule.”

“Yeah, but he would’ve suffered enough even like this, and then eventually he would have died because of the head injuries you caused him.”

“I may be a heartless bastard when it comes to killing,” he starts. You open your mouth to cut him off, not liking what he is about to say, but he shoots you a warning look. “But I don’t like to see people suffer. I messed him up good, and then I set him free,” he finishes. But then he turns his head to the side, and your noses are touching. “And anyway, he deserved it. He touched what’s mine.”

“Ah, getting possessive, Mr. York?”

“I’m not possessive. I just want people to know to not mess with my woman.”

“I don’t know. That sounds pretty possessive to me,” you wonder. He rolls his eyes before he turns his attention back towards the road. But you don’t lean back into the passenger seat.

Instead you lean closer to his neck, starting to place soft kisses to the exposed skin just above the collar of his shirt. From the corner of your eye you can see him flex his jaw, and you can hear him let out a strained sigh. “If you continue this then we’ll have to pull to the side,” he says.

You smirk into his skin at the sound of his words. Then you pull your hand away from his that is resting on your knee, placing it on his inner thigh, dangerously close to his crotch. He slightly jumps in his seat at the contact, and the car swerves a little before he gains back control over it.

“Don’t do that,” he says in a dangerous tone, but you don’t listen to him, letting your hands wander further upwards. Without warning you place your hand on the front of his pants, palming him through the fabric. He lets out a strained breath, gripping the wheel tighter with one hand, and squeezing down on your knee with the other as you lean close to his ear again.

“Pull to the side, Dave.”

He nods, and the next chance he gets, he immediately pulls the car to the side of the road. He stops the engine, and turns towards you with a surprising speed, crashing his mouth against yours with raw hunger and need.

Your free hand falls on his shoulder, and you let it travel back into the curls at the nape of his neck while your other hand fumbles with his belt buckle. You let out a frustrated sigh, and Dave chuckles at the sound. Suddenly he pulls your hand away from his prominent bulge, and he pushes you back deeper into your seat without breaking your heated kiss.

“You’re lucky everyone decided to stay home today and there’s no one on the road,” he mumbles when you break away to take some fresh oxygen into your lungs.

Suddenly everything feels too much and not enough at the same time. His hand on your knee, his hot skin against yours, burning, and still not enough. Still not somewhere where you need him the most.

“Dave, please,” you say with need, and you almost don’t recognise your voice as it echoes in the small space.

Dave shushes you with another kiss, but this time he moves lower along your jaw, down to the side of your neck. Your fingers tighten in his hair, and he lets out a low groan. He moves his hand up from your knee, and your legs instinctively open at his needy touch.

He explores your inner thigh like it’s his first time touching you.

And God, you waited for this moment for months now.

His hand reaches your underwear, and you throw your head back at the feeling as he runs his fingers back and forth over the wet material.

“Jesus, darling, you’re so wet for me,” he whispers into your neck. “And only from me telling you that you’re mine?”

All you can manage is a small nod, but that is all he needs. He pushes your underwear to the side, and he runs his thumb over your bare and wet folds. A moan leaves your lips when his thumb catches on your clit, and he smirks into your skin as he starts drawing slow circles over it. Testing, afraid that he forgot what you like and what you don’t.

But the way you say his name calms him, and he gets braver with his movements.

With that small part of your mind that is still clear you make a decision.

You reach over for his belt again, this time unbuckling it with success. Then you quickly undo his pants’ button, and pull down his zipper too impatiently. When your hand touches the fabric of his briefs, you don’t hesitate to reach into it, wrapping your fingers around him. He moves his hips up, chasing the feeling, and you smile at that, but it quickly turns into a moan when he easily eases one finger into you.

You capture his lips with yours as he starts to move his finger in and out of you at a steady rhythm. You drag your hand up and down on his cock, stopping at the top to gather some of his precum on your thumb and spread it over him as you start to stroke him again.

He grunts into your mouth, bucking his hips up into your palm as you speed up your movements.

The moment he pushes a second finger into you, you throw your head back against the seat, your mouth opening around a silent moan. The break of the kiss makes him move down to your throat, and your free hand falls on the back of his head to keep him there.

With his thumb he starts drawing circles around your clit again, and your hand falters on his cock when he speeds up his fingers.

You can feel your orgasm building, the heat getting unbearable in your lower belly. Your fingers pull at his curls, and he groans into the crook of your neck at the feeling.

“Dave, I’m going to—”

“It’s alright. Come for me, baby,” he mumbles against your skin.

Your high crashes over you, and you lean forward in his touch as the waves wash through your body. Your hand from his hair falls to his wrist as he lets you ride it out.

When it seems like your brain has cleared out, you dare to open your eyes and look at him. You are met with his dark brown orbs, and you smile at the sight. A soft moan leaves your lips when he retreats his fingers from you and pulls your underwear back into its place, and that’s when you realize that your hand is still wrapped around his cock, and he’s still unsatisfied.

“Oh, shit, I’m sor—”

You can’t finish your apology because he captures your mouth. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” he tells you in a warning tone between two kisses, and all you can do is nod.

But when you start moving your fist again, he is completely gone. He leans his forehead against yours, mouth opening slightly as he tries to hold back his own groans of pleasure.

You missed seeing his face like this from up close. You missed seeing how he tries to keep things together.

But right now you can see that he won’t last long. Months of pent-up tension and need is being released right now as you stroke him faster, and he can’t help but wrap his own hand around yours — not to control your moves, but to follow them.

And suddenly his face contorts in pleasure, eyebrows pulled together, a loud gasp escaping his lips as he pulses in your hand. He spills over your knuckles over and over again, and you don’t stop stroking him until every last drop comes out. His hand wandered up to your wrist, holding on tight as the muscles in his thigh tense at the last wave of his high.

When your strokes feel too overwhelming, too much, he pulls your hand away, and you understand without words.

“I made a mess,” he finally speaks, his eyes looking at your hand covered in his come.

“I don’t care.”

“You probably should,” he says, but his eyes widen when you raise your hand to your mouth, licking down the evidence of his pleasure. You can see his now softening cock twitch slightly at the sight, but you are too lost at the salty taste of him. When your hand is clean, he still looks at you with stunned expression, and you smile at his words. “That was hot.”

“You said that too when I slapped that man on the street,” you remind him.

He groans loudly at the memory, like it was physically hurting him to think about how hot you looked defending yourself.

“Because it’s true.”

“Right,” you say with an unbelieving smile, patting his thigh and then pointing at his exposed cock. “Tuck yourself away before I decide to do something else too.”

“Right. Yeah, of course,” he answers quickly, hurrying to pull his briefs up again, and try to button his pants again. While he is trying, your eyes wander up to his face, and a smile creeps onto yours at seeing his flushed skin.

You still can’t believe that this is the same man who can kill people without wincing. He is just so different with you. Caring, loving, helping out whenever he can. You still can’t forget about those times when he just lets you rest and does all the housework. Except cooking.

He’s a terrible cook. Once he almost burnt down the whole kitchen by accident, just because he wanted to surprise you with pancakes in the morning.

“Can we go?” He breaks you out of your thoughts again, and you nod, sending him an encouraging smile.

“Yeah.”

“Alright,” he mumbles under his breath, starting the car again and pulling back on the road. His hand finds its place on your thigh again, and your gaze immediately falls onto his skin against yours, and you can’t concentrate on anything else for the rest of the ride.

Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from it): @picketniffler, @speaktothehandpeasants, @harriedandharassed, @bergamote-catsandbooks, @misstokyo7love, @shadowqueen2024, @missadangel, @annwrites24, @eviispunk, @baronessvonglitter, @johnssherlock221, @goonersquad101, @my-tearsricochet, @nutbutterjellie, @kokoluwie, @cozymochaa

People who aren't on the taglist, but were interested: @time-for-my-weekly-spanking, @simpingforjoel, @peepawmiller, @sawymredfox

[tateypots]

Soph! This is so good, I absolutely love it ❤️

I was on the edge of my seat the whole time! But of course Dave was not going to let anything happen to his girl. The tension in the build up was so good, and then when she slipped that poison into his drink, I was like, phew, yes job done 🙌 but then you threw in that curve ball and it was action all the way!

I know this is your first Dave story but I love how you write him, so focused and competent when on a job but so soft and sweet and possessive with his girl. And the end is soooooooo hot! And the reader is so intriguing, love the little tidbits we got about her history. I feel so bad for her that she tried so hard to get out but somehow managed to get dragged back into it. I guess having Dave is a pretty good consolation for that though 😉

Thank you so much for taking part in my challenge, I’m so grateful you did! And I can’t wait to read part 2!