dreiadied - Tumblr blog

dreiadied · 6 months

Text

Josh Futturman has always had a crush on his beautiful coworker, the sharp, sexy scientist he thought he could only dream of talking to.

Warnings: Mature themes/language. Sexual content.

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven: Merry Christmas(I Don’t Want to Fight Tonight)

Josh felt like ‘the man’ walking into a corporate event with Dr. Brynne Johansson, of all people, as his date. Josh didn’t even care that she was at least a few inches taller than him even without heels.

The height difference didn’t bother him; if anything, walking around with a taller woman on his arm made him feel like those rich old men who walked around Vegas casinos with multiple women on their arms, smoking cigars inside. Brynne made him feel accomplished, like he could do anything.

“Dr. Johansson!”

Brynne and Josh both turned as a man in a suit called to Brynne. Josh was surprised as she hardly separated from him, lazily raising her hand to wave.

“Dr. Shaughnessy,” she smiled, without even opening her mouth.

“You look spectacular,” the tall, dark-haired man said flirtatiously.

Josh began to feel increasingly awkward, realizing that the handsome, British doctor was flirting with his date.

“Thank you,” she replied coolly, “See you at the toast.”

Brynne pointedly stuck to Josh, hooking her arm in his as if to make it even more clear that they had come together. Josh nervously looked down at his feet, blushing at the gesture.

“You two know each other well?” he asked her curiously as they grabbed drink tickets on the way in.

“I went for coffee with him once. He brought up politicos, and when he asked, I told him I registered socialist. He went on a rant and told me I’d understand better when I was ‘his age’,” she frowned.

“Dude. That’s gross to say to someone you’re on a date with,” Josh said in disbelief. “If you really think someone’s at an immature age, maybe you shouldn’t be trying to date them.”

“Yeah, long story short, I tend to avoid the break rooms,” she concluded. “Besides. Dr. Shaughnessy sees enough action around the building anyways.”

“Wait, seriously?” Josh said in surprise.

“Oh, yeah. He’s slept with two other scientists.”

“Who?!” he demanded eagerly.

“Dr. Kim, and Dr. Tomlinson.”

“Dr. Tomlinson?” Josh gasped in a loud whisper. “She slept with Dr. Rubio!”

“Dr. Rubio?!” Brynne exclaimed. “What is this place, fucking Grey’s Anatomy?! How do you know?!”

“They were talking, in her office,” he explained, “It’s weird how people just assume the janitor isn’t listening.”

“Oh, I can imagine,” she nodded.

“Honestly. Sometimes, I put earbuds in and don’t play anything,” Josh confessed.

“I do that, too, when I’m in public,” Brynne admitted.

“You know, I saw you once, a while ago,” Josh confessed, “Getting ice cream, on your lunch break.”

“Really?” she asked.

“Yeah… I was too scared to say ‘hi’. I didn’t think you’d recognize me,” he said sheepishly.

“Oh, of course I would’ve,” she chuckled softly, “I mean, I never knew your name, but… you’re the one who always rearranges the pens, on my desk. Just the way I like it.”

Josh was stunned by her response. “Yeah… You hate when people mess with the stuff on your desk.”

“You—You know that?” her eyes widened.

“Y-Yeah,” he stammered, realizing how it sounded. “Sorry. Is that—?”

“Incredibly sweet, and thoughtful?” she cut him off. “Yes.”

Josh couldn’t help but sigh with relief. “Really?”

“Josh…” Brynne laughed, stopping in the middle of the floor surrounded by other party guests, “I once had a boyfriend that didn’t know my middle name. I told him three times.”

“What a dick,” Josh scoffed in disapproval. “What is your middle name?”

“Emily.”

“Hmm. Brynne Emily Johansson. It has a good flow to it,” he remarked. “You know… Everything I learn about you gets burned into my brain. I’d hate to forget any of it.”

“I’m the same way,” she agreed. “I try not to forget anything.”

“Well. I’ll never forget that time you watched me clean that ‘spot’ on the floor,” he told her. “You… you really know how to make a guy speechless.”

“I can when I want to,” she shrugged.

“Hey. Josh,” Ray called, as he and another security guard called to him.

Josh smiled, waving to his friend as he and Brynne approached them.

“Hey, Ray. What’s up, Tony?”

“Hey,” Tony the security guard nodded.

“You guys know Dr. Johansson,” Josh politely introduced her.

“Yeah, of course. How you doing?” Ray smiled.

“I’m good, thanks, what about you?” she asked in turn.

“I’m alright. As long as Dr. Camillo sticks to water tonight,” he murmured.

“Hey, at least he doesn’t stare at your ass,” she pointed out. “I’m gonna grab a drink. Josh, you want something?”

“Uh, I think I’ll just have a soda, thanks,” Josh told her, handing her one of his tickets. “Coke?”

“Sure. I’ll be right back,” Brynne announced, leaving them for a moment.

Ray and Tony both remained calm, pretending to smile and enjoy idle chitchat until they were sure she was out of earshot.

“You got a date with Dr. Johansson?!” Ray whispered. “Why did I not know about this?!”

“I don’t know,” Josh shrugged with a laugh, “I guess it’s just one of those things you just gotta see to believe.”

“You’re damn right it is!” Tony spoke up. “You got the one woman everyone in the office wants!”

“No one can get her. Not even Dr. Shaughnessy,” Ray pointed out.

“Well, maybe Dr. Kronish,” Tony muttered under his breath.

Josh gave him a confused look, not understanding the comment.

“Come on, man,” Ray scoffed, “That’s just a rumor.”

“Is it?” Tony questioned. “They spend a lot of time together, he’s really touchy with her, and he’s the only one she really talks to.”

“That’s just because they’ve known each other for years. They’re friends,” Josh reasoned. “He put her through school.”

“Did you ever think about why he put her through school?” Tony raised an eyebrow.

Josh was too stunned to speak.

“Yo! That’s gross,” Ray made a face.

“It happens all the time,” Tony said defensively.

Josh ignored the other two as he watched Brynne return, with two glasses in hand. She had gotten Josh a soda, and seemed to have some sort of cocktail in her hand.

“Thanks,” he smiled, still uncomfortable from the conversation he’d just unwillingly participated in.

“Brynne!”

The two of them turned to see Dr. Kronish approaching, evidently making his rounds about the room.

“Elias!” Brynne smiled, hugging the older man.

“There’s my best girl,” Kronish said sweetly, “You look like a dream.”

Josh thought for a moment, now somewhat off-put, trying his best to disregard everything Tony had said before.

“Aw, thank you,” she gushed.

“Josh!” his employer greeted him, pulling the two of them aside. “Look at you two crazy kids, you look great together!”

“Thank you, Elias,” Josh nodded appreciatively.

“How are you two doing tonight?” Kronish asked. “Enjoying the party?”

“Yeah, it’s great,” Josh complimented.

“Well. I won’t bother you too much, you two have fun,” the man beamed. “But not too much fun, now,” he teased.

“Thank you, Elias. Merry early Christmas,” Brynne smiled.

“Oh, you two, Brynne. See you both later, I’m sure,” he waved to them.

Josh returned the wave as he left, turning his attention back to Brynne.

“You and Kronish have been friends for a long time?” he asked her.

“Yeah,” she nodded, “I owe him everything.”

“You never told me how you two met,” Josh segued, genuinely curious. “You told me he put you through school, but I never heard the story of how you too met.”

“Oh,” Brynne said shortly, her demeanor instantly changing. “Uh… It’s a long story.”

“I don’t mind,” Josh offered.

“You know, we could get into that later,” she said uncomfortably.

“Oh,” Josh thought, feeling as if he hit a nerve. “Uh…. I’m sor—”

“Johansson!”

A loud, and seemingly belligerent Stu Camillo interrupted their conversation.

“What, Stu?” Bry ne said crossly.

Josh felt strange as she avoided the topic of Kronish, genuinely worried as to why she seemed upset. He knew there had to be some sort of reasonable explanation, but a part of him also irrationally feared that Tony had been right.

“That Brennan kid you hired,” he slurred slightly. “He cost us thousands of dollars—”

“I’m well aware, Stu, now we’re at a company party,” she frowned, “This is hardly an appropriate place for this.”

“It never is!” the main argued. “You know, I told Kronish not to hire you, and I told him not to promote you, but the old man didn’t listen—!”

“Hey, Stu, I’m trying to be polite here. Go sit down,” Brynne told him, stepping close to him so that no one else heard, “This is highly inappropriate. Don’t make me call security.”

“You think you’re so much smarter than me, and all the rest of us, just because you’ve got Kronish wrapped around your little finger?” Dr. Camillo sneered.

Josh saw as Brynne’s eyes widened with rage as she gabbed the man by the jacket sleeve and pulled him aside.

“You need to leave. Now,” she said firmly.

“Fuck you! You don’t run shit here just because of your little Lewinsky act,” he spat.

Josh nervously stood behind Brynne, now worrying that something might’ve actually happened between her and her boss. He wouldn’t have judged her at all if it had, but he was more so worried at the idea of someone taking advantage of her. But suddenly, he had other things to worry about as things began to escalate.

“Everyone thinks you’re a genius, but you’re just a fucking bimbo with a degree!”

“Hey, lay off her, man!” Josh yelled, nearly shoving him as he stepped in front of Brynne. “Don’t fucking talk to her like that!”

Everyone was now watching as a spectacle began to unfold.

“Fuck you, janitor!”

“Dr. Camillo!” Elias Kronish rushed to Brynne’s side, cornering the man before Josh had to interfere any more. “One more word, and you’re fired. You do not have the right to attack other employees, and I won’t humor your childish fits anymore. You get the fuck out of here, and come back when you’re ready to behave like an adult, or you can kiss your job goodbye!”

“You won’t fire me!” Camillo scoffed arrogantly.

“Don’t test me,” Kronish warned, watching as the man stumbled off, leaving the party before someone could kick him out.

Josh turned to Brynne, seeing the troubled look on her face.

“Hey. Are you okay?” he asked worriedly, still not knowing how to react to the situation.

“Yeah. I’m fine,” she muttered, sighing as she took a sip of her drink.

“I’m so sorry about that, sweetheart,” Dr. Kronish said kindly as he rested a hand on her shoulder, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Brynne sighed, glancing at Josh, “I… I think I just wanna get out of here. I’m suddenly not in the mood to party.”

“Yes, of course, I understand completely. You go and get some rest, I’ll see you after the holiday,” the man said sympathetically.

“I’ll see you at work,” Brynne nodded, turning to Josh. “Is it okay if we get out of here?”

“Yeah, of course,” Josh nodded quickly, escorting her out.

He didn’t say another word as they left the party, not sure how to help the situation. He sat patiently in the car with her as she held her face in her hands, turning on the light so that they could talk.

“I’m really sorry about Dr. Camillo,” Josh sighed, “That was really fucking rude.”

“It’s fine. I’m used to it from him; he doesn’t bother me much,” she murmured. “It’s just… the stuff he said. About me, and Kronish.”

Josh froze, not sure how to handle this particular subject.

“Yeah… That was really inappropriate,” he agreed, not knowing a better word for the situation.

“I, uh… I didn’t sleep with Kronish,” Brynne said suddenly, catching Josh off guard. “I know that’s what you were thinking.”

“No!” he cut her off, immediately feeling awful. “I’d never actually think that…”

“It’s okay. Really,” she sighed. “I… I just didn’t wanna talk about it, because of how we met.”

“Oh. I mean, you don’t have to tell me,” he promised her quietly, “But you can.”

“Yeah, it’s okay, I just… In there wasn’t the time and place, you know?”

“Yeah,” he nodded softly.

“I didn’t wanna talk about it because… I met Dr. Kronish right before I graduated high school. He was at the school, as a guest speaker for some career fair thing I never went to. And I collapsed,” she explained.

Josh nodded in silence, not quite sure why she seemed ashamed.

“It was an overdose,” she added promptly. “I OD-ed. On coke.”

“Oh,” was all Josh could think to say in the moment.

“That’s… why I don’t drink,” Brynne explained, “I’ve been sober for eight years.”

“I thought you had a drink earlier,” Josh thought stupidly.

He never would’ve guessed.

“I got a mock-tail,” she explained.

“Oh… Well, I’m really sorry,” he apologized guiltily. “I feel really bad, I shouldn’t have made you feel like I thought—”

“You didn’t,” she assured him. “It’s okay.”

He nodded, turning as he looked at the wheel in front of him.

“I’ll take you home, if you want,” he said, sounding disappointed as if he already knew the date had gone badly.

“…Do you have to?” Brynne asked, to his surprise.

He looked at her in shock. “Wait. You don’t never wanna see me again?” he questioned.

“The opposite,” she assured him. “I like you, Josh. And I appreciate what you did for me. With Dr. Camillo.”

“He was attacking you,” Josh said simply, “I had to do something. If anything, I was kinda pathetic…”

She interrupted him, deciding it most fitting to press a quick kiss to his cheek, surprising him. Somehow, the act was even more striking to him than a kiss on the lips.

“Th-Thank you,” he blurted out.

“You can take me home now,” she said finally.

“Oh…”

“Your home,” she offered with a smile, earning a silent gasp from him. “If you want.”

“Hachi machi…”

Part Eight

62 notes · View notes

dreiadied · 6 months

Text

18+

bestfriend! mike schmidt who jerks off while scrolling through your instagram. he feels so ridiculously dirty and guilty afterwards he can’t even bring himself to look you in the eye the next time he sees you. like: you bend over to grab something and he gets so hot and bothered he starts to feel dizzy, just because he’s caught a glimpse of the curve of your ass in your jeans— as if he wasn’t cumming over his fist and tummy, staring at your tits in those bikini pics you posted last summer <3

2K notes · View notes

dreiadied · 7 months

Note

I LOVED UR JOSH FUTTURMAN FIC

also when i got to the bottom and read the imagine being a twitch thot and josh being your #1 fan OH I JUST KNOW that man would be a tier 3 sub and most likely a moderater in ur twitch chat and discord I ALREADY KNOW THAT MAN IS HOOKED i need a fic of this so bad….

THANK YOUU!! and you’re right he would bhahaha (smut

“Thank you for the sub!” you exclaim, checking the chat while playing Biotic Wars. Josh thinks you’re shit at the game, but it's ok, nobody can see the little gameplay box in the corner with your boobs in the way.

Speaking of your boobs, that's what he's getting off to. Josh feels his face get hot as he slowly strokes his clothed dick. His eyes glued to the pixelated screen, watching you. He lets out a soft moan, shutting his eyes and lazily slumps back into his gamer chair. The lotion bottle and box of tissues nearby.

“Guys, I think I’m gonna get off..” you say defeated, losing again for the billion time. Josh jolts back up, he scrambles to the keyboard.

futturman1992 donated $5: “no youre so good at this game” Josh lied, he wants you to stay on longer so he can jack off to you. it’d only take less than a minute.

“Really? Thank you Futturman!!” you smile, and not a forced fake one. Josh’s heart skips a beat at you noticing him. It was like the world stopped and it was just the two of you. He clips this moment so he can play it on loop later.

You continue playing and Josh shimmers his basketball shorts down then squirts lotion onto his palm. His cock twitching at the thought of you and your tits.

“It’s so big!” you exclaim. Referring to an in-game event, just Josh’s luck. He forces his eyes shut and begins to fist his dick. Working up an image of you screaming ‘it's so big’ verbatim at his cock.

He bites his lower lip as he picks up the pace. Josh opens his eyes for a split second to see your beautiful face looking at the camera, reading a donation. It almost looks like you're watching him masturbate.

This only turns him on further, he wishes he can just jump through the screen and fuck you right there in front of all your fans. “Fuck- Y/N!” he moaned, desperately bucking his hips into his hand. Josh feels himself get close, he closes his eyes.

It wasn’t a surprise he came so easily, you’re his favorite streamer after all. Sticky cum all over his hand, dripping down. He lets out a deep sigh, closing his eyes before grabbing the tissue box and cleaning himself up. Josh lazily types, sending another donation.

futturman1992 donated $5: “I lost no nut november to you.”

636 notes · View notes

dreiadied · 7 months

Text

daddy next door | j.miller (one)

❝welcome to the neighborhood❞

chapter summary: you meet your new neighbor and quickly discover he’s all you’re able to think about.

chapter warnings: MDNI. mostly exposition. foul language. discussions of alcoholism. verbal abuse (readers father). discussions of prior domestic abuse. readers father is a police officer, that gets its own warning. age gap (reader is in her 20s, Joel is in his 50s), pet names. slow burn. tension. female masturbation. no descriptions of race or body type, except implication that Joel is noticeably taller than reader.

word count: 3.5k

series masterlist.

The first time you saw him was through your bedroom window.

Bulging biceps and graying curls stuck to his forehead with sheen sweat under the Texas sun. You wished you could make out the features of his face better. He was with another man, equally handsome from what you could tell in a boyish sort of way, sporting long, raven hair. Together, they unloaded the moving van. You couldn’t decipher what they were saying, but you could hear the booming cadence of their voices and occasional laughter.

There is a perfect view of his driveway from your room. Beyond the picket fence, a beautiful two-story white home that had been otherwise unoccupied for nearly a decade. It’s unsurprising; you can’t quite fathom why anybody would want to live in the poorly populated outskirts, let alone relocate on their own volition. Outside of city limits, things move slower. Everyone knows everyone, and secrets often turn into idle gossip even the innocent cannot escape.

The quaint neighborhood has been your home for a lifetime, and a fresh face — his face — is the most excitement the residents have seen in years.

The next time you saw him was three days after that. You were riding your bike home from the library and noticed the horde of local women on his doorstep. Even with your headphones in, you could make out the grating nature of their boisterous voices. You couldn’t see his face, only the broad shadow of his frame as he accepted the welcoming gifts the women gave him with less than subtle eagerness.

You were admittedly intrigued by the thought of him. You knew very little about the man, other than the web of talk in town: middle-aged, moved in alone, some work in contracting. But the summers got lonely, and the fascination was a welcomed distraction.

The third time you see him is a particularly sweltering Thursday afternoon. You are thumbing the crisp pages of a book, lying horizontal across the sofa, when your father's footsteps descend the stairs.

“Still caught up in that nonsense, I see.”

Never is there an opportunity missed to berate you. To remind you that your hobbies, interests, and ambitions are foolish or beyond attainable for the life you are supposed to live.

You know what that means to him. It means taking the same, dreadful path as your mother. Marrying a man who has too much stake in the community. Giving up your job, your autonomy, to please him. A picture-perfect, Southern doll to fall into the habits of a man's pleasing. It’s why she left. That, and the incessant drinking which often led to sharp words or even sharper blows. She knew she couldn’t defy him; going against his wishes was like abandoning the law itself.

He is a proud man and unafraid to embody it. You often wonder what you may be like if you encompassed a fraction of that trait; to be unabashedly secure in oneself, so much so that it appeared he could bend the will of those that surrounded him.

Perhaps the bronze badge pinned to his chest, proudly displaying CHIEF, has something to do with his choice of demeanor.

Yes, you understand why she left him. You just can’t pinpoint why she abandoned you in the process.

It’s not nonsense, you want to scream. Calling one of the most prolific playwrights in history nonsense is confirmation enough of your father's stance in your interests, but you know better than to argue. Instead, you place the bookmark delicately between the pages. A copy of Othello. Act four, scene two. How seamlessly Shakespeare’s words paint the page, eliciting a clear image in your head:

Desdemona, the wife of the great Othello, seen both as a tragic victim and heroine. You had always favored the latter, her unyielding loyalty to her husband until her last breath — even despite his own accusations of her infidelity — something of admiration. How infatuated one must be with another, how deeply their souls are intertwined to continue to proclaim her love in the face of such aversion. You often daydream about the sort of connection it may take to maintain such sacrifice and—

It’s your father's voice pulling you from your imagination and back into reality again. You set the play down on the coffee table.

“Won’t be back till late,” he says, bending over near the front door now to lace up his boots. He’s never home early when he takes afternoon shifts. Days you look forward to. “Do me a favor and get somethin’ together for the new neighbor — Mr. Miller, I think? Been a week now. We oughta make a good impression.”

You’re unable to define why, but something about your father's mentioning of the man next door rouses your stomach. As if his existence, despite being the talk of the town, is your own hushed secret. It’s a reminder that he sees the world around you, too. That you are not contained to the stories within your fingertips.

You look up from the page you’re on to catch him in your peripheral. “I think he’s gotten plenty of gifts from our other neighb—”

“I didn’t ask for the goddamn attitude, just do it!”

It’s not his voice that startles you. It hardly ever is anymore. You expect him to yell, even when it’s uncalled for in the situation. But the sound of his palm smacking against the front door panel makes you tremble to your feet. When you look at him, his eyes are stern. Lifeless. He would rather be looking at anything else, anyone else, you think. How much his own creation had become such a burden on his precious life.

You don’t move. Simply nod your head and mutter a yes, sir under your breath. It appeases him enough for now. While he’s sober, forgiveness comes easier. You know better than to open your mouth, even if it is with the intent of basic conversation. He isn’t there to converse. He isn’t there to be your friend. Hardly your father. He’s the man of the house. In his mind, the man of the town. And how easy it is for men like him to assert themselves over the closest woman they can sink their teeth into.

It’s why he never let you go away for college.

Never let you leave.

He needed the game to feel like a predator, and you were the next best prey.

The breath lodged in your chest expels as soon as he’s out the door. Some days are better than others. Some days, he’s too preoccupied with his own meaningless life to direct his anger at you. On other days, you’re better at keeping the emotions of anguish, resentment, grief, at bay. But not today. Today, when the door latches shut and your father's cruiser revs out of the driveway, you fall back into the couch cushions and bury your face into the nearest pillow.

Today, you allow yourself to cry.

You spend the rest of the afternoon baking. Muffins are the chosen treat, and the activity is a soothing routine to distract you from your anxieties. Much to your dismay, you discover you are all out of chocolate chips. You scour the pantry and fridge alike for an alternative before happening upon a bag of frozen blueberries in the freezer. They would have to do.

Within a couple of hours, the kitchen is filled with the pleasant scent of fruit and sugar. The recipe makes a dozen, but you keep half on the counter once they cool, plating the other six and covering them in foil. You shuffle on your flip-flops, balancing the treats between the palms of your hands as you begin the short journey across the yard. The sun is blinding and the heat suffocating, your skin instantly missing the comfort of the air conditioning.

It isn’t until you make it up his driveway, stand before his door, and knock three times that nerves find you. Their origin still remains unknown, but real is the frantic beat of your heart against your chest when you hear footsteps beyond the door's threshold. Then, the unlatching of the lock. And finally, the deep timbre of a somewhat distressed voice.

“Tellin’ y’all, I really don’t need any more of that cornbread — oh.” You don’t have time to acknowledge his unabashed complaint. You’re too busy gawking.

The man before you now, despite his image through the window just days prior, is not the man you expect. He’s staring at you, eyes a bit wide through the panes of the black-rimmed glasses that rest on a curved nose, as if he had not expected to see you on his doorstep, either.

You take him in for a moment. Soft brown eyes peer into your very soul, the signs of age lining them in faint wrinkles and peppered freckles. He’s wearing a pair of black jeans and a pale blue button-up, the picture of refinement. Save for his hair that curls up in odd directions, as if he had run his hands through it too many times for the product to stick. He’s tall; you realize very quickly that you are looking up at him rather than at him. And he down at you, the momentary shock melting into something more subdued.

Oh god, he isn’t just handsome. He’s terribly, horribly, painstakingly beautiful.

You blink at him rapidly, clearing your throat when you register that your awestruck silence isn’t boding well for a first impression.

“Um, h-hi, Mr. Miller. I’m so sorry to bother you,” you finally stammer, offering him your name in the process. “I live next door—”

“I know,” he interjects swiftly. You hope he doesn’t hear the way your words catch in your throat. It’s not rude, nor creepy, but matter of fact. He’s noticed you as you have him. Though it’s much less enticing to him, you think, as mapping out your neighbors in a new town seems common practice. Nonetheless, the idea excites you.

“You’re, uh…you’re the Chief's daughter, yeah?” And just as quickly as the thrill fills you, it’s drained to the bone.

The Chief’s daughter. Of course, what did you expect? For your identity to not be reduced to your father's stake in this town?

“Yeah,” you answer, mustering up the politest smile you can find. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“Huh,” is all he breathes, and then, his eyes are darting down to the plate in your hands. You hope he doesn’t pick up on the way they tremble.

“Oh!” you chirp, following his gaze. “They’re, um. They’re muffins. We wanted to drop off something to welcome you in, but…” you trail off, peering up at him again through your lashes to find he’s already staring. The quiet stoicism he displays while studying you makes you uneasy; not by means of discomfort, but nearly eliciting a sick sort of fascination.

You have never seen a man exhibit power as delicately as he does.

Your eyes scramble back for your hands, finding it difficult to maintain direct eye contact. “But I – I told my father you probably already have so many other gifts to get through, so if you – if you don’t want them…”

There you go again. Looking up only to be lured into the beast's trance. You try to decipher his eyes, remarkably dark even in the unforgiving sun. Yet despite their color, there remains a gentleness. Warm, welcoming, perhaps even tired.

You watch the way his brows scrunch slightly above his eyes. “You make ‘em?” he asks after a moment, raising one brow.

You nod. “From scratch.”

“Chocolate?”

“No, blueberry,” you frown, but he’s grinning at you then.

“My favorite.” You aren’t sure if it's his words or the way the dimple pops out on his cheek when he smiles that settles you, but regardless, you’re grateful. He looks younger when he smiles, you think. Then, you find yourself questioning just how old he even is—

He’s reaching out for the plate now, nudging the door open the rest of the way with his hip. His entire body takes up the door frame, and you have to work hard to not let your eyes rake over him. Luckily, you have something else to distract you: his hands. They brush yours when he takes the plate. Rough, thick fingers just barely grazing over your skin.

“You saw all them folks out here the last couple days then, huh?” It takes you a moment to register that he’s speaking to you, asking you a question. The plate is stable in his hands now, much to your appreciation.

You breathe out a shaky chuckle, nodding. Your hands clasp bashfully behind your back now that they are free, fiddling with your fingers to ebb the nerves that, regardless of how long you stand there under the intense sun and his even more intense eyes, would not cease.

“Yeah, I did,” you answer honestly. “But I’m not surprised,” you find yourself adding, tilting your head up at him. You’re finding it’s surprisingly easy to speak with him. “If there’s anything the women in this town love, it's shopping, gossip, and something new and pretty to sink their teeth into.”

Now it’s his turn to laugh, the low vibration making your chest flutter in delight. He throws his head back a little bit before shaking it. Then, he returns his eyes to you. This time, a dash of implication clouds them.

“S’that what I am?” he asks. He must see the confusion on your face. “Somethin’ new and pretty?” he clarifies, grin growing wider when the confusion is replaced by mortification.

You feel your cheeks scald with heat, hotter than the sun above.

“Wha—I, well no. No, no I just meant—” You clamp your sputtering lips shut as soon as he breaks into another fit of laughter, wanting nothing more than to melt into a pathetic puddle right then and there.

“I’m sorry,” you try again, flustered. You bring your hands from behind your back up to cover your cheeks. The apology is a conditioned response. “I’m so sorry, I really didn’t mean–”

“Hey,” he beckons you softly, and you dare to look. You’re glad you do because he’s eyeing you almost apologetically, balancing the plate in one hand while he uses the other to lean against the doorframe. “M’just teasin’ you. Don’t gotta apologize, you’re sweet for sayin’ all that.”

Sweet.

He thinks you’re sweet. You don’t say anything else, just nod and stifle another awkward bough of laughter, feeling sufficiently embarrassed. And sweaty. You’ve been standing outside way too long, but for some reason, you can’t locate any impending desire to end the interaction. You think it may be the most you’ve talked to someone other than your father all summer.

“What about you then?” he suddenly questions. It appears he isn’t ready for it to be over, either.

You furrow your brows at him. “What about me?”

There’s that smile, again. This time, it reaches so far that the crinkles at the corners of his eyes become more pronounced. “What do you love? Assuming it ain’t the same as the rest of the women in town.”

You’re certain now that your belly has overflowed with the budding warmth. Growing stronger, more intense, and prominent every moment you spend in his presence. How mundane a task it is – speaking to you, directly to you with genuine interest and pure fascination – and yet, you’re not sure you’ve ever experienced it as real and raw as right now.

“Um…” You’re looking for the right words, a bit too lost in the murky sea of his eyes to find them. “Books, old films, art. You know, boring, meaningless stuff like that,” you answer, shrugging. It’s meant to be sarcastic, but you get the sense he understands the validity of the statement. How a town like this could suck the life out of anything that didn’t fit a cookie-cutter standard.

He doesn’t seem to fit it, either.

He observes you for a moment, and you think you see the path of his eyes do a once over the entirety of your body. Is it the first time he’s done so? Or just the first one you’ve caught?

“Well, that answer alone may just make ya the most interestin’ person in this town,” he finally concludes, voice dropping only a few decibels lower, but you notice the shift. Notice the way sincerity floods his features, an invisible string of curiosity and magnetism drawing your gaze to him. This time when you maintain eye contact, you don’t feel inclined to break it. In fact, there is an unanticipated comfort in it. A realization that he is seeing you, just you in all that you are, for the first time. And maybe he even likes what he sees. More so then the women flooding his doorstep the past week, at least.

His lips part, looking as though he is about to speak again when his phone rings from within his pocket.

The unspoken moment is broken by his scrambling for it, careful to set down your plate of treats at the entryway table before fishing it out of his pocket. “Shit,” you hear him mutter under his breath as he examines the screen, tender eyes returning to the same, focused nature they had taken when he first opened the door.

“M’really sorry, I gotta take his. It’s work,” he explains, looking at you apologetically.

You shake your head. “No, no. It’s — it’s alright. I didn’t mean to take up so much of your time, anyway.” Your stomach drops upon the loss of his attention, quickly discovering how much you were enjoying it. It frightens you.

“Thank you again for the muffins,” he grumbles to you, but his eyes are on the device, rapidly tapping a message to whoever may be trying to get ahold of him.

You do your very best to not take offense to the distraction. It’s not his fault, he would’ve kept talking to you if he could’ve, you convince yourself. It still does little to shroud the disappointment.

“No problem,” you reply as you begin to back away down his front porch, not wishing to distract him any further. “It was good to meet you, Mr. Miller,” you say as you turn on your heels, returning back to the role of casual, kind, and welcoming next-door neighbor. Lost is the moment of fantasy, of fiction, you had allowed yourself to entertain.

But then, he’s surprising you all over again. “Joel,” he calls out, right when your feet hit the pavement leading up to his porch.

“Hm?” You whip your head around, not entirely sure if you made up hearing his voice again altogether.

“Joel,” he repeats when you face him, his eyes already on you. “Just Joel is fine, darlin’.”

You nearly lose your balance.

“Joel,” you test the name out on your lips, loving the way it sounds, honeyed and masculine. He gives you a final nod of his head, the shape of his smile a picture you capture and store away in memory as he sends you a single wave and shuts the door behind him. Then, with great difficulty, you force yourself to turn around again and carry yourself forward. A sort of haze seems to settle over your mind as you recount the moment prior.

Darlin’. He called you darlin'.

The word buzzes in your ears during the short trek across the yard, having to focus intently on the ground in front of you to keep from toppling over.

Darlin’.

It follows you throughout the entire night, in the shower where you turn the handle to cold in hopes of relieving your burning skin.

Darlin’.

It shamelessly echoes in your mind while you lay in bed that night, urging the hand that slips beneath your night shorts and into your damp underwear. You feel your entire body tighten when your fingers make contact with your core, slick and awaiting. The fullness of your two fingers sinking inside of you sends your feet fluttering into the air, toes curling in delight. You gnaw on your bottom lip to keep the soft whimpers from ringing too loud, worrying the front door could open at a moment's notice.

Darlin’.

You hear it like a chant, a prayer, coaxing you closer to the impending edge until you’re tearing your fingers out of your cunt and feverishly circling your pulsing clit. You bring your opposite hand up to your mouth, biting into your palm as the orgasm washes over you, back arching and thighs littered with tiny tremors. And when you come down, collapsing back into your mattress, with wide eyes and heavy breaths going up towards the ceiling, it is no longer the summer heat causing sweat to pool at your temples.

You think of him as you fall asleep. Warm brown eyes and scruffy cheeks. Broad frame and a presence that should instill fear, but quite the contrary. That’s what scared you the most; how inviting he was, how safe he seemed.

You don’t need any of your stories to aid your imagination tonight.

You hear it in your dreams.

Darlin’, darlin’, darlin’.

follow @cavillscurlsupdates & turn on notifications to be notified when I update!

my kofi linked HERE if you’re interested in supporting my work further!

2K notes · View notes

dreiadied · 7 months

Text

WAITER !!

a/n: This was a little bit longer than the other one, I had so much fun writing him idk

Pairing : Mike Schmidt x F!reader

cw: porn with plot, unprotected sex, denial/handjob, maybe sub!mike, riding/cowgirl

+18 !!

You stepped into the small empty diner, sitting in one of the booths next to a window. It was late, but time had gotten away from you and you didn't feel like cooking. So the ‘cheapest diner near me’ search brought you to Sparky’s Diner.

It had decent reviews, but considering you've never heard of it before- It couldn't be too popular.

A waitress walked over to you and handed you a menu, saying she’ll return later to take your order. You squint your eyes at the menu and scan its items, settling on getting waffles. The picture looked nice enough and was described as having fruit, powdered sugar, and even a little whipped cream.

You send a quick snap of the menu to your friend Amber, asking if she’d like to meet up. You knew she was still awake as a notification from TikTok popped up on your screen a few minutes earlier, saying she sent you another video.

After a few minutes of back and forth, she agreed, sending you a picture of her steering wheel.

The sound of the door opening got your attention, and you turned your head to see Amber walk in. She waved and walked over to your booth, sitting across from you.

“Missed me?” She playfully asked, blowing a kiss. You grin, rolling your eyes and shaking your head.

You slide the menu over to her. “On me,” You say, and she instantly lights up. Quickly picking it up and picking what she wanted.

A different waiter walks up to the booth, his nametag reading “Mike.” You look up at him and your eyes lock, almost making your heart race. He looks over at Amber and starts taking her order, and you take this time to get a good look at him.

His dark, almost black hair stuck to his face, his light brown eyes practically shimmering in the overhead lights. His body is athletic and toned, and something about him is calming and peaceful. He is handsome, but there is something mysterious about him that draws you in as if he has a secret to tell.

“....?”

You look over to hear her laughing, and you look back at Mike feeling embarrassed. A shy smile reaches his face and he clears his throat. “What can I get you..?”

“Uh, the waffles- How they come, please,” You say, grabbing the menu and holding it out to him. His hand brushes over yours as he takes them and walks away, disappearing behind the kitchen door.

“Like that wasn't awkward,” Amber smirks, raising her eyebrow.

“I didn't know I was staring for that long…” You mumble, rubbing the back of your neck. She laughs again.

“You gonna pass out if he comes over here again?” She asks, her eyes widening a second later.

“...”

“.. I bet you'd like that,” She says, laughing again, this time even harder than last time. You smile and hit her arm.

“Don’t even..” You say, pretending to shake your head in disappointment.

“I kinda get it…” She says, her face turning serious as she nods a few times. Her eyes light up and she pulls out her phone. “I need to find a video, it has the perfect quote for this..”

She mumbles, furiously swiping through her likes.

“Do you remember any part about it?” You ask, raising your eyebrow.

“Something about a waiter, it's on literally every edit I sent you…” She mumbles back again, looking through the reposts now.

You think for a moment, mentally going through a few edits in your head.

“Oh uhm!” You say, the words on the tip of your tongue. You close your eyes to focus, placing your hands on the sides of your head.

“...”

Your eyes shoot open and you point at her. “I’m not a waiter, but I'll gladly take his tip!” You say, a little louder than you had hoped.

She laughs and nods her head a few times. “That’s it! That one fits you perfectly” You roll your eyes again and shake your head.

You look up to see the waitress from earlier bringing over your food, setting it down, and talking for a few seconds. You look closer to read her nametag before she walks off.

“Aww, you ran him off..” She says fake pouting, taking a bite of her food.

Your eyes dart over to the kitchen door and then back at her. “I guess I did..” You mumble, taking a bite of your own food.

“Thanks for taking that..” Mike says, his face still red from the interaction from earlier. Jade laughs and nods her head. “Didn’t want you to trip and fall in front of them, that would've killed you” She says, patting him on the shoulder.

He frowns and shakes his head up and down.

“But- I did hear something they said before I walked up to their table,” Jade says with a small smirk on her face. He looks over at her with a confused expression. “What?”

She leans down and whispers it in his ear, laughing at his reaction before walking away.

“...They said what?!” You hear someone yell from the kitchen area.

You look over to Amber with a puzzled expression, the same one on her face.

“Wonder what that was about…” She mumbles, taking a sip of her drink. You nod, taking another quick glance at the kitchen door, this time locking eyes with someone peering through.

They disappear and you look back at Amber, giving her a puzzled expression again. She looks confused before looking over at the door and back to you.

“..What?”

“Nothing” You reply back, almost laughing.

“Okay, well are you ready to go?” She asks, looking at the time.

“Oh, sure. I'll just pay at the front…”

You grab your phone and shove it in your pocket, walking with Amber to the front counter. A small grin reaches your face as you realize that Mike is there.

“..Are you ready to pay?” He asks, obviously avoiding eye contact with you. Amber nudges your side and laughs again, walking out of the door.

“Yeah..” You say, grabbing your wallet and handing him the cash.

Some awkward silence passes and you look around the front, your eyes trying to find anything to focus on.

“Here's your receipt…” He mumbles, basically shoving it in your extended hand as fast as possible.

“Thanks,” You say, nodding before walking out of the door over to where Amber is standing. “Aw, nothing? Not even a number or anything?” She asks crossing her arms, a frown on her face.

You hold up your receipt and shake your head. “Nope, just this..”

She smirks and shakes her head. “That's such a shame, well text me when you get home!” She says, swiftly getting into her car. You wave your hand, walking over to your own car before hopping in.

You throw the receipt in the seat beside you and sigh, looking back into the diner.

You look at your hand, noticing something smudged on there. You wipe it off on your pants and look back at the receipt, thinking the ink is bleeding. You flip it over to see a now smudged number scribbled on there with M after it.

You grin shaking your head, entering the number in your phone under ‘waiter mike’.

You sit on your couch, flipping through the TV channels. Knowing nothing is on, you sigh, taking a quick glance at your phone.

You pick it up and open his contact, drafting up a message before sending it.

You: Hey! It's the girl from the diner, is this Mike?

You set it down and immediately hear a noise alerting you that he responded. “..That was quick,” You mumble.

Waiter Mike: Oh uh yeah that's me!

…

You text back and forth for a few hours, talking about his job, and his sister, to your interests and then diving into more personal topics.

Mike brings up the idea of you coming to his house, then awkwardly backtracking and asking again if you'd like to.

You laugh and text back a yes, knowing it'll be a fun time.

You pull up to the address he sent you, checking your phone again to make sure you're at the right house. You walk up to the door and knock a few times, the door quickly swinging open after.

“Oh uh- hey…” Mike mumbles, trying to seem casual- and failing miserably. He gestures for you to come in and you walk into his living room, glancing at his TV to see a weird overpriced ring.

“Can I get you something to drink?” He asks, pulling out a drink for himself.

“Oh I’m okay, thanks,” You say, giving a polite smile.

He nods and walks back into the living room, sitting on one end of the couch. You join him and sit down on the other end, taking a look around at all of the drawings.

“Abby drew those, she's really talented…” Mike says smiling, looking at the same one.

“Oh yeah! You mentioned she liked to draw a lot..” You nod, thinking of the conversation hours ago.

An awkward silence fills the room, and your eyes dart around, trying to find something to look at. Your eyes land on Mike, and he's fully focused staring at the TV.

You check him out again, his shirt hugging his broad shoulders, not leaving much to the imagination. His tight-fitting sweatpants had a way of complimenting his toned thighs and calves. His thighs held in check by the snug material, but still able to hint at a shape under the fabric.

Mike quickly looks at you and notices you staring, his face instantly flushing red.

You hear him take a deep breath and you look up to meet his eyes.

“...You know, uhh- I heard what you said in the diner,” Mike mumbles, his eyes darting around the room, avoiding eye contact with you.

You pause for a moment, opening and closing your mouth a few times trying to say something, but no words coming out. ‘Let's try this way…’ You think, scooting a little closer to him.

‘Yeah? What about it?’ You ask, carefully placing your hand on his leg. He jumps at your touch, his eyes going from you to your hand.

“I…uhh,” He stammers, his face as red as a tomato now.

You slowly glide your hand up to his clothed erection, making sure to take as much time as possible. You barely touch him and he's practically squirming.

You press your palm into him and he groans, bucking his hips.

“Can I take these off..?” You ask, looking up at him.

He quickly nods, and you think you hear a small ‘please’ come out of his mouth. You scoot closer to get better access and you pull his sweatpants and boxers down, freeing his erect cock.

He moans as you wrap a fist around him.

His pleading eyes meet yours, practically begging you to do more, to go faster.

You bring your hand up to your mouth, making a show out of it before spitting in your palm. You wrap your hand around the base and pump a few times, using his precum and your spit as makeshift lube.

His whines and moans fill the room as you continue stroking him, speeding up a little faster as his noises change.

You pull your hand away before he can release and he whimpers, giving you the most desperate look ever.

“Not yet…” You say, unbuttoning your pants hoping he gets the idea.

His eyes widen and his hands quickly help, nearly ripping your pants and panties off.

You crawl on top of him and you hear him take a deep breath, his hungry eyes all over you. You grab him and position him into you, audibly sighing as you feel him slowly filling you up.

“..feel so so good” he babbles, his eyes practically glued to you bouncing up and down on his cock.

His hands roam and grab your hips, thrusting into you at an even faster pace.

“..'m gonna cum,” He mumbles, his eyes meeting yours begging for approval. You nod your head up and down, unable to form coherent sentences.

It didn't take too long after that for him to thrust into you one last time, filling you up with his cum. The feeling making you orgasm soon after.

You lean your head into his shoulder, not wanting to move any.

“..maybe we should get cleaned up” Mike mutters, looking down at the mess you two made.

You lean back and look at him, thinking of another idea.

“We could shower together?” You ask, a clear smirk on your face.

“...”

“How could I say no to that…” He mumbles, laughing as he picks you up and takes you with him.

word count: 2.1k

343 notes · View notes

dreiadied · 7 months

Note

FAKE DATING WITH MIKE PLEASE IM BEGGING YOU the plot can be whatever you want but please

A/N: The 'fake dating' trope is genuinely one of my favourites so it's safe to say I had a lot of fun coming up with the plot for this one. I'll post a part two if you guys enjoy this one, so please let me know what you think!!

Word Count: 3.5k+

Warnings: language and I guess that's it

MASTERLIST ✩ SEND ME A REQUEST

This Love Is Just For Show

It was a slow day at your job. Even though it was a Thursday morning and it was usually really busy at this time, the number of customers coming through the door was significantly lower than any other morning, but you were thankful that you didn’t have to do a million things at the time this early.

You worked at a coffee shop and have worked there for a while, so you were used to the crazy job and by this point, you remembered most of the recurring customers, but you always waited for one in particular.

You heard the little bell that indicated that a customer had entered the coffee shop, so you quickly finished arranging the coffee cups behind the counter before turning to greet your customer. You fought the smile that threatened to creep its way onto your face when you saw who it was, and gave him a nonchalant expression instead.

“Hey Mike”

“Hi” He greeted you back with a smile.

“You want your usual, right?”

“So no small talk today, I suppose” Mike leant his forearms on the counter.

“Sorry, it’s kinda busy back here”

He looked around at the almost empty café “I’m not gonna steal more of your time then. I’ll have my usual”

You took a medium cup and used it to cover your smile, marking up his exact coffee order and writing his name at the bottom.

“You know, my offer to go out for coffee still stands. Maybe at a place you don’t have to make it”

You giggle as you put down the cup, typing a few words into the computer in front of you “You’re very sweet Mike but we’ve been through this, I don’t-”

“Date customers, I know” He finished your sentence.

“Look at that, you do remember. And yet, you keep on asking”

“Just hoping you’ll change your mind, I guess”

You shook your head “Not gonna happen”

“Alright, I’ll stop” He took out his wallet and paid for his drink “I’ll just try again in a month or two. Thanks”

He immediately walked to the other end of the counter to wait for his drink, constantly eying you while you took someone else’s order. You were looking his way too, but way more discreetly than he was.

When he finally got his coffee, he thanked your coworker and walked towards the door, turning his head around for a moment to face you “Bye, I’ll see you tomorrow”

Your eyes lingered on the glass doors after he left. You thought he was attractive, sweet, funny and just nice to have around, but you didn’t know whether you liked him like that or not but sometimes you thought you’d like to find out and go out with him, but you couldn’t do it. The real reason you had rejected every single one of his invitations wasn’t the one you gave him every time he asked, it was because you got out of a messy relationship 6 months ago and you weren’t ready to commit to anything, not yet.

Hours later your shift finally came to an end and you were ready to get out of there, you had a lot to do after all. You were in a hurry, so after taking all of your things you made your way to your car and drove to the grocery store.

After finding a parking spot you entered the massive building, guiding the shopping cart in front of you. You were so wrapped up in your thoughts looking down at your phone as you checked your shopping list, you didn’t notice the familiar face quickly approaching you.

“Y/N?” Your head snapped up as you immediately recognised the voice. You forced a smile while trying really hard to keep your eyes from widening.

“Nick, hi” The shock of seeing your ex-boyfriend for the first time since the breakup was more evident than you had intended.

“It’s been so long, how have you been?”

“Good, things are good” An awkward silence took over your conversation as quickly as it had started. The two of you smiled at each other politely, discomfort present in both of your eyes “How about you?”

“Amazing, actually” You nodded at him in response, unsure of what to say next. Thankfully, someone else joined the conversation. A girl you recognised as one of Nick’s friends from when you were dating him.

“Y/N! It’s been so long” She approached you for a hug, which you politely accepted.

“You remember Emily” Nick said as you pulled away.

“Of course, hi!”

“This is so funny, we were just talking about you last night” Emily said, standing closer to Nick and slowly wrapping her arm around him.

“You were? Why’s that?”

“She suggested we invite you to our engagement party this weekend”

Engagement?

“Oh my god, you guys are engaged” If you weren’t in shock before, you certainly were now “That’s amazing!” You wrapped your arms around them and pulled both of them into a hug, hoping this would prove to him that you really were happy for them. Even though that was far from the truth.

You pulled away after a few seconds, building up the perfect fake smile “I know it’s a bit of a shocker since Nick and I were just friends when you guys were dating, but I hope it’s not weird or anything”

“Please, not at all. I- I’m really happy for you guys”

“Thank you” Emily held your hand momentarily before dropping it and taking it back to her financé’s arm “So, are you coming?”

You thought about it for a moment. You really didn’t wanna go, but you thought that if you showed up you would show them how okay you were with their engagement. Even though you weren’t, since you broke up with Nick just six months ago and out of nowhere he’s engaged now, and you… you hadn’t even gone on a single date since then.

“Of course I’ll be there”

“Great! Should we save an extra seat for a special someone?” Emily asked with a wink.

You could feel your face burn as you thought of the lack of a love life, but your mouth was faster than your brain “Yes, I’ll bring my boyfriend with me”

Fuck.

“Oh” You hear Nick whisper.

“I mean I’ll ask him if he can make it, but you know, he gets really busy sometimes, so-”

“Okay, well I’ll have Nick text you the details later but I guess I’ll see you on Saturday!” Emily pulled you in for another hug, and Nick just waved at you as the both walked away from you.

You were left standing there alone, feeling like a complete loser. You didn’t have feelings for him or anything, and you wished you didn’t care about his engagement but you just couldn't help it.

Your relationship with him was complicated, and your breakup was so messy it took a while to pick up the pieces, and the main reason for that was because he swore he would never want to get married. After being together for a couple of years you moved in together for a few months, leading you to think he’d propose eventually, but he said that was the most you’d get from him. Now six months later he’s engaged to one of his friends…

You barely had the energy to finish with your grocery shopping. You were cursing yourself for saying you would go to their engagement party and on top of everything making up a fake boyfriend. Why couldn’t you just say you were busy? Any other answer would have been better than that.

You went home with a lot on your mind, and Nick’s text with all the details for Saturday just made it worse. You let out a loud sigh as you collapsed on your bed, going through your contacts list to see if you could find someone who would be willing to be your fake boyfriend for a night.

You quickly gave up as you realised how crazy it would be to make such a request, so maybe it would be better if you came up with an excuse and said you wouldn’t be able to make it.

Unless…

You typed Mike’s name on your contacts, hoping you’d find his number there. He gave it to you a couple of months ago, written on a napkin after going to the coffee shop for a week straight. You were almost crossing your fingers, urging that your past self saved it, but you assumed you got rid of it since it wasn’t on your phone.

You sigh again, too tired to think of more solutions.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★

The next day wasn’t any better. The party that was taking place the next day was flooding your mind and unfortunately for you, the possibilities of ending up looking like a loser in front of everyone were high.

Everyone around you seemed to notice something was off, but with the busy morning that kept everyone doing something they didn’t have time to ask you the reason. That was definitely a relief, you would hate to admit what your current problem was.

Customers kept coming and that almost made you forget about the whole fake boyfriend thing, until you saw Mike approach the counter with a big smile.

“Hi” You shyly smile back at him.

“Hi, I’ll just have my usual”

You nodded as you grabbed a medium cup. You were debating in your mind whether or not it would be a good idea to ask him for help, but the simple thought of those words leaving your mouth made your face turn a bright red.

“And I’ll also have a cupcake”

You looked at him with furrowed brows. He had been going there every day for at least a couple of months and he never tried something new, so him making an addition to his order took you by surprise “Oh, what’s the occasion?”

“Buying a few extra seconds, I guess” He replied like it was no big deal. He took out his wallet ready to pay for his order, smiling when he noticed your blushed face.

If he was willing to buy a cupcake just to talk to you for a little longer, maybe he would be down to go to a party with you and pretend to be your boyfriend for a night. After all, he had been begging you for a date nearly everyday since the day you met him, and that would count as one, right?

You looked at the cupcake tray that was sitting next to you, naming the cupcake flavours while you kept a collected expression despite the heat rushing to your cheeks as you wrote your phone number down on his cup, right next to his name.

“Uh- we have vanilla, chocolate, blueberry-”

“Which one is your favourite?” He interrupted you.

“Red velvet with cream cheese frosting”

“I’ll have that one”

You tried to suppress your smile as you reached for the cupcake, blushing a little harder when your hand brushed his “Enjoy it”

“I will, or I guess I’ll let you know what I think on Monday” You looked down and grabbed his receipt, keeping your eyes fixated on the screen in front of you when you handed it to him “Thanks” Mike said, and you panicked when he started to walk away, and once again your mouth acted on instinct.

“I get off at 4” You spit out, making him stop and take a step back as you cursed yourself for how pathetic you sounded.

“Huh?”

“Today, I- I get off at 4” You repeated, thinking of something else to say “You can call me and- and maybe I’ll see you later”

A smile appeared on his face “Yeah, sure. I’ll give you a call” He nodded quickly, but stopped when he realised “I’d love to have your number, though”

“On your cup”

His smile grew bigger, and you could almost notice his tinted cheeks “I’ll talk to you later, then”

You nodded as he walked away, pushing away your embarrassment as you fixed your face to attend a new customer. You tried to stay focused on the order, but the cheeky smile from your coworker made you blush again.

“Shut up” You said, rolling your eyes at her.

The rest of the day went by painfully slowly. You were dying to check your phone to see if he had called you or at least texted you, but it was so busy that you didn’t have the time for that.

At the same time you were hoping he’d take his time reaching out to you. You felt guilty dragging him into your little show and you knew if you went out with him you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from asking him.

When your lunch break came you literally ran to the back to get your phone, your heart skipping a beat when you read the last notification.

Unknown: Hey, it’s Mike

You saved his contact right away, and then took a little too long to think of a response, writing and deleting the message a few times before finally sending one back.

You: This is Y/N!

You rolled your eyes at your own message, and only a few seconds later your phone started ringing, his name showing on the tiny screen. You froze for a moment, but rushed to answer when it rang for the second time.

“Hi” You said in a shy tone.

“Hi. Sorry for calling but it’s way easier than texting”

“Don’t worry, I agree” You let out a little giggle before continuing “I guess I should apologise for earlier today”

“What do you mean?”

“You know, writing my number on your cup-”

“No need to apologise” He interrupted you “I’ve been meaning to ask you, what changed?”

‘I ran into my now engaged ex boyfriend and made up a fake boyfriend so I desperately need your help’ you thought to yourself, but of course you couldn’t say that, not yet anyway.

“I, uh- I thought about your offer, and coffee sounds nice”

“Well… I know a place, they have the best red velvet cupcakes-”

“Definitely not here” You stop him before you let out another laugh, even though you knew he was joking “We can meet somewhere else, what time do you get off?”

“Oh, so you really did mean tonight” Mike sighs loudly, taking a hand to his hair as he tries to think of someone who could babysit his sister.

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to bury your embarrassment at how desperate you sounded “Sorry, we can try some other time-”

“No” He’s quick to cut you off “I just need to find a babysitter for Abby-”

“Who’s Abby?”

“My little sister, but the babysitter leaves at 6”

“Right, I understand” You try to think of a solution without sounding more desperate than you already were, but maybe it was for the best if you didn’t see him tonight.

“I’m gonna call her and ask if she can stay with Abby for a little longer tonight”

That makes you feel bad, thinking about his little sister stuck with the babysitter just because of your big mouth. You start to come to your senses, there was no way you could lead him on like that.

You let out a loud breath before saying “Mike, actually I think it’s better if we leave it for another time”

He stays silent for a moment, but then finally replies “Uh- yeah, that’s okay”

“Sorry, it’s just-” You stop when the clock on the wall tells you your lunchtime is over “I have to go but I’ll see you on Monday”

You hand up the phone immediately, the guilt coming back to you for a different reason.

You spend the rest of your shift thinking of excuses for your absence to the party, knowing that that’s what you should have done from the beginning. When you leave you’re so caught up on your thoughts you almost don’t recognise the person waiting for you outside.

“Mike?”

“Hi, yeah- uh sorry” He put his hands on his pockets, looking down at the ground “You sounded a little weird on the phone earlier”

“I had to go back to work, sorry”

“Right, I know… so, about the coffee-”

“Y/N!” Mike is interrupted by a voice you hated to recognize. You closed your eyes momentarily as you let out a breath, mentally preparing yourself to talk to her again “We have to stop running into each other like this”

“Emily, so nice to see you again” You say with a convincing smile.

“You too” She inspects your outfit and the building behind you, a smirk appearing on her face when her eyes landed on you again “I see you’re still working at the café”

You don’t say anything but your blood starts to boil, but at the same time you’re trying hard to hide your embarrassment.

Mike looked at you as soon as those words left her mouth, trying to read your expression, but when you didn’t say anything he decided to jump in “Hi, I’m Mike”

“Oh hi, I’m Emily” They shook hands and she carefully examined him almost entirely, and Mike dropped it after just a moment “I used to be friends with Y/N. Well, with her ex boyfriend, but he’s now my fiancé” She said as she showed off her ring, and the two of you simply nodded “Oh… you must be Y/N’s boyfriend”

Emily’s eyes fixated on you, giving you the same intimidating look she always gave you, making you break and fall into a moment of weakness “Yes” You replied, and she immediately turned to Mike to give him a hug.

“You should’ve said that before, she was telling us about you last night”

He was looking at you with a million questions as his eyes gave you the most confused look you had ever seen on anyone. You mouthed the word ‘Sorry’ as they pulled away.

“You guys are coming to the party tomorrow, right?”

“We can’t make it, sorry” You grabbed Mike’s arm and pulled him closer to you, giving him an apologetic smile.

“Oh well that’s a shame”

“You never said anything about a party, baby” He looked at you, amusement building in his face.

You were sure your face has never been more red than it is right now, you truly didn’t know what to say to that “Uh I- I’m sorry, I guess I forgot”

“We’ll be there”

“Mike, what are you doing?” You whisper to him.

“Great! I can’t wait to see you guys tomorrow”

She starts to walk away as she waves you goodbye, and as soon as she leaves you turn to face Mike, your apology already leaving your mouth “I’m sorry, Mike I’m so sorry, I don’t know what got into me-”

“Who was that?” He interrupted you “And most importantly, why did you say I was your boyfriend”

“That was my… I used to know her when I was dating my ex boyfriend” You explained, scratching your head as you tried to think of the answer to his next question “I don’t know why I said that. I panicked but of course that’s no excuse, I shouldn't have said that, I’m so sorry”

“What did she mean you told them about me last night?”

“I didn’t, I swear I didn’t” You simply reply, but he urges you to continue “I ran into them and they invited me to their engagement party, which already was so crazy cause I didn’t think Nick would ever get married, but he would give that to Emily I guess” You start to ramble, but stop when you realise you’ve said too much “She asked me if I would bring someone with me and I don’t know why but I said yes”

“Does that have anything to do with you giving me your number today?”

“No, of course not” You rushed to reply “Look, I’m sorry I got you into this. It’s stupid and it’s immature, you don’t have to worry about her thinking you’re my boyfriend, I promise I’ll call her”

You stared for a moment, waiting for him to accept your apology, although you’d understand if he didn’t.

“I can come to the party with you”

“What?”

“I mean she’s not very nice, why give her the satisfaction? Plus, I already promised we’d be there”

“No, Mike you don’t have to do that-”

“I tried asking you on a date for weeks, I’m not gonna let it go to waste now, even if it’s not real”

You stop to think for a little too long. If he was down then what was the problem? Asking him to do that for you did cross your mind anyway, so now that he was volunteering himself you shouldn't feel as guilty, right?

“It’s just going to be for one night, and knowing Emily there will be so much free food and drinks, you just need to stay with me and maybe hold my hand a few times”

"Deal"

Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know what you think, likes and reblogs are highly appreciated!!

691 notes · View notes

dreiadied · 7 months

Text

ᰔ. wrong package : mike schmidt — suggestive warning !! + ft. secondhand embarrassment.

next door neighbor mike who randomly appears in front of your doorstep, an unusual flushed look in his tired features. neither of you have been formally acquainted, if you don’t count the forced awkward exchanges when getting the mail outside.

although, mike was good looking despite his unkempt demeanor — the remnant memories of his stiff politeness and husk voice had you fawning over him for as long as you were made aware of his presence. but it seems like he’d rather get to work or rest at home than getting to know any of his neighbors.

but now, he stands in front of you shifting one foot over the other — his wavering eyes settling onto the torn box in his grasp rather than your face. there was a bob to his throat, swallowing down on his thickening saliva in anticipation.

“uh sorry to bother you, but i’ve actually gotten your package on accident and ummm … i opened it.” his fumbling words shot through his lips like he’s in a rush, but you still manage to make his statement coherent.

he directs your curious eyes over the beaten package and immediately, your polite smile turned into a silent scream. the rabbit vibrator that you ordered online was hastily covered in some old newspaper — what mike probably did beforehand out respect of your already invaded privacy. the hot pink color and obnoxious packaging taunting you. your name was bold and printed on the delivery sticker, sparing you no excuses for your erotic purchase.

your dilated pupils and now flushed complexion made mike feel apologetic, yet somewhat amused. his encounters with you were a rarity, but he made sure to remember those moments. like when you would focus on reading the mail beside the shared mailbox, the way your face looked so cute carefully squinting and mumbling each word. or even that time you mistaken his sister as his daughter, the same dust of pink settled onto your cheeks like it did now.

mike formed an impression that you’re put together and tooth achingly innocent, but after accidentally opening your package — his superficial thoughts about you has gone down south and into the depths of a more lustrous head space.

how would you look like using it? what would you sound like? crude and carnal ideas spilling over the mental image of your face, his senses clouded with this new epiphany.

he carefully hovers his hand over yours and guides them with a phantom touch, placing the package gently in your stiffened grasp. the furrow in your brows and lack of response made him worried you might pass out — but then you began to sputter a shy “thank you”, your quivering eyes never meeting his. it was a nice look, he couldn’t deny it.

“i won’t tell, promise.” his previous nervous manner completely melted away as he teases you for a bit, his pointer finger pressed against his friendly smile — like it could somehow permanently seal his lips from exposing your status on your sex life.

you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak — not when you heart feels like it’s about to explode while your body temperature is fighting between haunting chills or overwhelming heat. the gaze in his eyes was much more darker and relaxed than before. weirdly enough, you trust him like you’ve known him your whole life. mike gives you a friendly farewell before he makes his way back into his house.

slowly shutting the door with a solid click, you immediately pathetically fall to your knees and shriek in absolute horror — the box crashing down with you and revealing the one thing that made this rare exchange so humiliating, embarrassment settling so thick in your core. your hot neighbor knowing you’re sexually active? currently getting off to a dingy sex toy? you cannot go back outside again, not if you’re going to possibly see him. hell, you cannot even use the toy without thinking of mike. it’s like he cursed it with some spell, the whispers of his name draw closer each passing second whenever you gaze at the toy.

his ears perk at the bloodcurdling scream that pierced through your closed windows — one so loud and dramatic, it sounded like an active crime scene. he couldn’t help but helplessly laugh into his baggy sleeves, prickles of tears in the corners of his eyes. it’s been awhile since he’s laughed like that, it was needed. returning back home felt less eventful, your embarrassment still making him chuckle under his breath and somewhat eager to see it on you again.

of course, there’s no shame of getting yourself off, but if you needed a helping hand — mike would gladly come over and do his due diligence to be the perfect neighbor. with his new image of you carved into his mind and colorful second impression of you, maybe it’s time for him to make a more formal introduction of himself, once you actually start recovering from your eternal embarrassment.

2K notes · View notes

dreiadied · 7 months

Text

Whammy Kiss Me (Whammy Hug)

－－－

Pairing: Clapton Davis/AFAB Reader

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Maybe Seven Minutes in Heaven isn't a pointless party game, after all. (3.9k | originally posted on ao3 | Masterlist )

－－－

It's not until the closet door shuts that you realize the gravity of your current situation.

You've been at the party for at least a couple of hours; you've grown used to the general noise. The slight haziness of the air. You're not quite hammered yet, but you've got one or two drinks in your system. Just enough that you can enjoy the feeling without worrying about the hangover tomorrow. Judging by the way that a couple of people had been giggling and swaying, not everyone who was sitting around the circle shared your sense of self-conservation.

Although it hadn't been the brightest outside— it was dim, but also somewhat illuminated at the same time with the neon lighting— the single lightbulb hanging above your heads doesn't do much against the darkness.

Yeah. Heads, plural.

Luckily, there's only one person in the cramped space besides yourself.

Unluckily, that person is one Clapton Davis.

It's not that you don't like him. Actually, you feel the exact opposite towards him, but that's not the point. It's just that— you know, you could spend seven minutes just sitting in silence, doing absolutely nothing— but you're suddenly hyper-aware of the way your knees are brushing. The way there's something in the air. Maybe you're just imagining it, but there's something … restless. Something like—

Your thoughts are abruptly interrupted when he speaks.

"So," he says, casually. As if you're not within necking distance in a cramped space. "You enjoying the party?" There's that same easy grin on his face. He's completely at ease, apparently. You're not sure if that's because of his ever-present (and sometimes misguided) confidence, or because he's used to stupid little party games like this. It's probably a combination of both.

"Yeah." You find yourself replying, almost on autopilot. "The punch isn't as bad as I thought it would be."

Clapton honest-to-god giggles at that. "It's still pretty shitty, though."

"I wouldn't say shitty."

"Awful, then." He raises his eyebrows. "Let's just say that it's an … acquired taste."

You can't help but smile. "Fair." He's right— you're pretty sure that the only people who actually enjoy it are the people who regularly attend these parties. Said people usually just come to get drunk, anyway, and the punch works wonders. Magically malicious.

"It's either that or cheap beer," he muses. "Or wine busted from mommy and daddy's fridge in the basement."

"Expensive wine?"

"Could be." Clapton shrugs, pulling his knees closer to his chest. You try in vain not to focus on his arms as he wraps them around his legs. Was it really necessary to wear the tank top? "Maybe," he says. "But I doubt that anyone here would wanna drink it."

You unconsciously mirror his posture. "Why's that?"

He snorts. "Too classy."

It sort of makes sense. You can't really see Josh from Calculus sipping a glass of pinot noir, much less enjoying it. Maybe one has to start from the bottom of the hypothetical alcohol pyramid and work their way up. The bottom, meaning Bud Light. Or Coors Light. All of the Lights.

"Cheap beer it is, then."

Clapton's grin is back.

"Unfortunately."

You're starting to relax, even if you can still feel your heart pounding whenever his eyes meet yours. Even if your eyes are lingering. When he reaches up to idly run his fingers through his hair, you can't stop yourself from wondering: is it as soft as it looks?

"How much time d'you think we have left?" He asks, just as you're attempting to reel yourself back in.

"Uh," you start. Nice. "I don't know— maybe, like, four minutes or so?" Spending a couple of minutes talking about drinks wasn't exactly the plan, but you're not exactly complaining. It's still better than awkward silence. You wonder— again— about how many times he's done this before. How long does it usually take before people give in?

The muffled music from outside has been reduced to just the thumping of the bass, and the rhythm matches your pulse.

"Four minutes," he echoes.

You can't hold his gaze, glancing down at your knees instead.

"Yeah."

You can tell when Clapton adjusts himself where he's sitting, but you have a feeling that he hasn't looked away. Not yet.

"What do you wanna do now?" He asks, innocently. "Four minutes is a long time."

When you look up, you're proven right. The faint glow of the light doesn't hide anything. It just makes everything feel vaguely dreamlike. And, okay. This is pretty cliche. But you've watched too many movies, seen too many shows— you know what that look is. That look doesn't mean that he wants to play rock-paper-scissors for the remainder of your time left.

"I don't know," you manage. "What do you want to do?"

His eyes dip briefly before flicking back up.

"I was asking you," he teases softly. "We've already had a pointless conversation." He mimes checking a box midair with his pointer finger. "Check. And we've already sat in silence for a couple of seconds." He repeats the motion on another imaginary box. "Check."

"Oh, ouch. Talking about alcohol is pointless?" You're a little amused. "So, what's left on the list?"

Clapton raises his eyebrows again.

There's a shift in the air.

"C'mon, don't tell me that you actually don't know." His tone's dropped to little more than a whisper, but due to your closeness, you can hear him loud and clear. Your brief bit of confidence wanes— your face warms, and you pause. Sure, you're well aware of what he's implying— but you're not sure if he's just joking around or not. When has Clapton Davis ever been serious, besides that one time he competed in a skateboarding competition in the sixth grade?

The lighthearted lilt in his voice is almost gone, though.

"I know what you're trying to say," you finally reply, matching his volume. And you do want to kiss him. You really, really do.

"Okay," he murmurs in return. "Well, that's good." He dares to smile, though you know you're weak to it.

"I don't have to ask you out loud, right?"

He definitely already knows the answer to that question.

"Yeah, you don't."

You've tuned out the outside world, muffled as it already was. The music and noise fade to a quiet hum. You can hear the quiet buzz of the lightbulb— the barely audible clattering as your back moves against the uncomfortable storage shelves— the sound of his sneakers scuffing against the hardwood floor—

"But if I did ask," he says, uncharacteristically hesitant, "you'd say yes?"

Your heartbeat thrums in your throat.

The seconds tick by— you know you can't wait. It's been at least a minute and a half—

"Just do it," you breathe.

And he does.

The first thing you register is how soft his lips are. Then, his hands— cupping your face— your own hands reaching up to tangle in his hair, tugging him closer. His hair is as soft as it looks. There's no slow build-up because there's no time for that. All you can think about is him— the little sounds he lets out as you kiss, the way he can't wait when you part, his breath briefly coming in soft pants before he leans in to capture your lips again. He tastes vaguely like beer, and maybe that would have bothered you if it were any other guy— but with him, you don't really care at all. His nose presses a little awkwardly against yours a couple of times, but he makes up for it with how eager he is. You know he's not a bad kisser; he's just impatient.

You lose yourself for a little while. It feels like forever. You wrap your arms around his neck, reluctantly dropping your grip on his hair. His hands start to stray, one anchoring itself behind your neck and the other traveling lower. And lower—

There's a loud series of knocks at the door.

Clapton's slower to react, and you're the one to pull back first. When you do, he leans forward to chase your lips— but stops upon noticing your expression. In direct comparison to you, he just looks giddy. Almost dazed. His hair's a little disheveled from earlier, and he hasn't let go of you yet.

"Huh," he says, before the door is yanked open.

You're immediately greeted by exactly what you had expected. Whistles. Catcalls. General hooting. Some "called it!"s and "you owe me five bucks, man!"s.

Clapton just grins, reveling in it all. Because of course he would. But, before you can get too embarrassed, he's getting to his feet, pulling you along with him as you both exit the closet— exiting what had previously been your own little world. Instead of just rejoining the circle, like part of you expects him to do, he pauses to lean over to you and whisper:

"Wanna go upstairs?"

You blink at him. He's still smiling— he almost looks star-struck. You feel that familiar swoop in your stomach. Maybe it's a stupid decision that you'll regret later, but—

"Okay," you agree.

The whistling doesn't stop as he grabs your wrist, making a beeline for the stairs. The son of a bitch takes them two at a time, and you do your best to keep up. Upstairs, it's quieter than it is on the ground floor, since there are fewer people up here; still, though, you can hear the music echoing through the hallway. A girl's laughter rings out, followed by a string of giggles.

It's not very hard to find an empty bedroom. You gingerly shut the door behind you, taking a moment to look around. There are one or two posters here and there, and a few photos placed on the dresser. Other than that, it's kind of bare-bones. A guest room, maybe? You sure hope so. While you're distracted, Clapton leisurely sits down on the bed, bouncing a couple of times.

"Cozy," he remarks, and you turn to look at him.

"You think?"

He grins. "Sure do."

You sit next to him on the mattress. It's not bad. For a moment, he just looks at you. Taking you in.

But he doesn't hesitate much longer, and leans in. Automatically, you angle your head just so. Unlike before, he kisses you in small pecks at first. One of his hands finds your cheek. However, as the minutes draw by, your kisses grow longer. More languid. He hums into your mouth, and you move closer. Closer, until your thighs are brushing his, and you're nearly off-balance, but it's still not close enough.

He draws back. This close to him, you can pick out his freckles. His eyelashes are long, framing half-lidded eyes. His lips are still parted.

"Should I lay back?" He asks, hushed. "Or do you wanna—"

"Go ahead," you interrupt.

Clapton flops backward onto the pillows, wiggling around to make himself more comfortable. When you think he's got himself in a good position, you crawl over him. The way he looks up at you— it makes you a little lightheaded, but in the best way possible. His hands find your waist. You can do little but settle against him, pressing your lips to his for the nth time.

Enthusiastically, he responds, and it's not long before your kisses grow messier. Needier. His hands wander, moving down to rest on your hips, and then lower— you let out a gasp when he squeezes your ass, and he uses the opportunity to pull you harder against him. You're no stranger to how strong his arms are, but, yeah, being on top of him like this is an entirely new experience. He's soft and firm in equal measures, his chest sturdy where it's pressed against yours. His hands are warm when he moves them under your shirt, up your back, making you shiver.

Bracing your hands on his torso, you sit up. For a second, he's confused, but that quickly fades away as you reach down to pull up your shirt.

"Holy shit," he murmurs. He scrambles to discard his tank top too, yanking it over his head. You were right— he's toned, but there's still a fair bit of softness there. Of course his chest doesn't have any hair, but at least he kept the trail. You lay back on top of him, the feeling of his skin against yours like this causing you to shudder again. Clapton's hands start to explore once more— square palms, strong fingers. It must be a little bit of an uncomfortable stretch for him, but his thumbs find your nipples, tracing soft circles.

You briefly enjoy the sensation. Then, your breath stutters when he gently urges you forward and then leans up so he can take them into his mouth. It must be self-indulgent for him, too, because he spends more time than necessary— sucking, flicking his tongue— but it's not like you're complaining.

When he finally stops, he presses a kiss to the middle of your chest before laying back on the pillows. You move back down, and can't resist the urge to kiss him in return. His jaw— his cheek, which makes him smile. He's already started hooking his fingers in your waistband, and your mild surprise must show on your face, because he abruptly stops.

"Sorry," he grimaces, "am I going too fast? I - Is that too much?"

Hastily, you shake your head. "Oh, no. Not at all. It's fine. Just— it just caught me off-guard."

"Okay." The worry vanishes in an instant. "Okay, I'm gonna."

You let him slide down your bottoms, and then take them off the rest of the way yourself. His shorts quickly join the rest of the clothing on the floor. Now, you're more or less sitting in his lap— he props himself up on the headboard, his breath heavy as you shift on top of him. With only a few layers between you, you're aware of the shape of him through his boxers.

You grind your hips with purpose, and he swears under his breath. When you do it again, he muffles himself by kissing you. The friction— you know it's not going to be enough— makes you more desperate, and it must be having the same effect on him, judging by the way he's slightly squirming underneath you. He's not quite thrusting up against you, but it's obvious that if he were in a better position, he would be. When your cunt brushes against him, catching at that angle, he moans openly into your mouth. You draw back only for air. If you could, you'd keep kissing him forever.

"You gonna let me— mmh — fuck you?" He pants, "ohmygod, 'cause if you don't, you— you are one sick bastard—"

You smile, although you want him just as badly as he wants you. You're doing a slightly better job at keeping yourself composed, after all. "I don't know," you murmur, "isn't this nice?"

Clapton bites his lip when you grind down harder this time. "I — well," his hands scramble on your waist, your hips, "it is pretty nice, but, like — I just wanna take the logical— shitfuck — next step, right?" He's looking up at you with wide eyes, "and you are gonna let me, right?"

"Right," you repeat, your breath catching when you roll your hips at just the right angle, "I am gonna let you, don't worry."

He's flushed a pretty pink, pupils blown wide, obscuring hazel eyes; you drink him in. "Thought so," he grins. Before you can ask, he's already answering. "And, uh. There's a condom in the pocket of my shorts, if you're worried about that."

You're in mild disbelief, abruptly halting your movements.

"In your—?"

Clapton looks a little bashful, though he's still grinning. "Could you just get it?"

You're already awkwardly dismounting his lap. "Sure, sure." True to his word, there's a condom in the left pocket of his shorts, and you fish it out without a problem. You glance back at him for a moment, and he doesn't even try and pretend that he wasn't staring. Oh, well. A little clumsily, you get back onto the bed, and move to straddle him again— but he gently stops you.

"Hey," he says, "can we switch places?"

You don't need much time to consider it. "Alright."

Now, he's hovering between your legs, and you're the one lying back. His gaze lingers, but he can't wait for much longer. You lift your hips, and he slides your last remaining piece of fabric off.

"Fuck," he breathes, just before he gets to work. With the pad of one of his fingers, he collects the wetness that had been gathering, then smoothly slides the digit into your cunt. Swiftly, he adds another, the sensation odd at first, but you know you'll quickly get used to it. When he begins to lightly trace your clit, it only makes it easier for you to loosen up— both figuratively and literally. And he's still adding another. Maybe three fingers aren't strictly necessary, but he crooks them, finding the spot that makes an almost embarrassing noise tumble from your lips.

You spread your thighs wider. You could definitely cum like this if you let him continue for a while. Glancing up at his face— oh, he definitely would if you wanted him to. He's torn between looking at how his fingers disappear into you and your face. How you're reacting to his touch. It's a little flattering. But as much as part of you wants to see what he's willing to do —

"I'm — " You feel yourself tense, and you barely stifle an involuntary moan when he thumbs your nub again. "I'm ready. You can —"

He doesn't even wait until you finish the sentence. He's already pulling out his fingers, tugging off his boxers. Your eyes are immediately drawn downward. Again, you're not surprised that he's shaved. Length-wise, he's probably around average, but girth-wise he's nice and thick. There's a bead of precum at the tip— if he wasn't already tearing open the condom with his teeth in a move that he's probably practiced before, you would've offered to blow him or something. Maybe some other time.

Your idle thoughts dissipate when he lines himself up and, with an amount of care that nearly belies his previous neediness, presses in. You both moan in unison— he sounds infinitely more strained. He takes a moment to catch his breath, but—

He starts moving. Little thrusts, at first. Then, pulling out more, pushing back in. His mouth falls open, and you can't resist throwing your arms around his neck, pulling him down. He groans, and you take it in, taking it with his increasing pace. It's good— his thumb finds your sensitive apex again, and that makes you jolt, but you know he's trying to give you a smooth progression between slow and fast. That's not what you want, though. Especially not now. Inches from his lips, you mutter:

"Don't hold back."

And that's all it takes. You can vaguely hear the bed creaking when he snaps his hips up to meet yours, roughly fucking into you with almost reckless abandon. Your kisses are sloppy, uncoordinated. But you wouldn't prefer it any other way. You know he probably wouldn't be making those noises if he didn't know they were muffled against you. Some are high-pitched— ragged gasps, moans, and at least one whimper. You also know you don't sound much different. He can't reach down to rub your throbbing clit anymore, due to how he's positioned, but the way that he's angled is more than satisfying in that regard.

You lose track of time, only aware of his hips colliding against yours— his lips, his hands — the way he's starting to babble. "Fuck, you look so pretty like this," he confesses in a rush, "god, your eyes. I could just — I could just look at you like this forever. If you could see yourself — nnh — you would know." A sharp intake of breath, a few kisses, and then, "Ohfuck. Shit. You're gonna ruin this forever for me. I can't — "

His rhythm is starting to falter. You can feel the heat pooling low in your gut, the tension that comes before the inevitable release. You tighten around him. His hands braced near your shoulders tremble, and you can see his biceps flexing with the effort of holding himself up like this.

"Please," Clapton chokes out, and he doesn't specify as to what he wants, but you have a pretty good idea. "I'm gonna— "

"Do it," you manage, despite your own climbing pitch, "c'mon, give it to me—"

"Fuck— " You feel him pulse. For a split second, you wonder how it would feel if he didn't have on the condom— but your thoughts are quickly overtaken, as you're not too far behind. You twitch, spasming around his cock as your mouth falls open. The tension peaks, the heat spikes—

He fucks you, gently, as you float back down, riding out your orgasm. Your eyelids flutter shut, and your breath slows, but your pulse is still a fast-paced staccato.

He gingerly lays on top of you, catching his breath. It's hot against your throat. The world ceases spinning, and you let out a long sigh.

He mimics it, and you glance down at him.

You're reluctant to say it, but seriously, this is someone else's house. Guest room or not.

"We should get cleaned up or something."

He blinks once, lazily. Seemingly, he's content to lay on your chest. Of course, he's the type to get sleepy after sex. But at least he makes an effort to respond. "Ugh," he says. And then: "Jus' gimme a minute or something."

You give him a look, and he surrenders. "Okay, fine."

He slips out with a wet noise, and you only miss the fullness for a moment. Getting off the mattress, he throws out the condom, then accepts the wad of tissues you hand him. It's not the best, but it'll have to do for now. You manage to get most of the evidence of your arousal off before pulling back on your clothes. There's a mirror, thankfully, so you go to try and make yourself look less … fucked. Not that it would really matter. There are definitely people in worse states.

Clapton stands next to you, but doesn't even try to fix his hair. On him, it looks fashionably disheveled, anyway.

It's silent, before he interjects:

"Is this … gonna be just a one-time thing?"

The strange apprehensiveness is back, and you chance a glance at him. He's not meeting your eyes, but you're sure he's looking at you in the mirror's reflection.

"I don't know," is all you can think to say, "do you want it to be?" A beat. "We could totally go back to being just sort of friends, if that's what you want."

Clapton visibly swallows. "I … "

You wait, patiently. He takes another few seconds.

"I liked that," he mutters, "a lot. And I— I meant all that stuff. About you."

He's still not meeting your eyes. It makes you pause.

"I liked it too," you reply, softly.

The look he gives you next says it all. You know he's not big on old-school romance. He's not big on flowery words— his English grades can certainly attest to that. He's more of an action-oriented guy. Even if you don't get a verbal confession just yet— and you know you will, just not now— you suddenly understand what he's trying to convey. So, you pull yourself together and throw caution to the wind.

"You wanna get out of here?"

He beams.

1K notes · View notes

dreiadied · 7 months

Text

A Different Kind of Compensation

╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗ ╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

pairing: mike schmidt x fem!reader

prompt: you’ve been babysitting abby for mike nearly three months now. he constantly apologizes for not paying you yet, you constantly tell him it doesn't bother you. one night he comes back from his shift at freddy’s and has a different idea on how to compensate you for all of your hard work.

warnings: 18+, oral (fem receiving), vaginal fingering (kinda???), munch!mike.

word count: this was supposed to be a short dirty work that somehow turned into a 2.2k monster. told you i love to ramble.

authors note: remember when i said i might write smut if i was just so moved by an ask? well turns out my very first ask moved me. y'all are nasty, i love it. mike, of course, is a munch because why would he be anything else? i never, with a capital N, write smut so please bear with me if it sucks. i hope whoever requested this loves it! i wrote it instead of finishing my scientific article for bio so it better be decent hehe.

╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗ ╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

The sound of the front door opening followed by heavy footsteps woke you up from where you were dozing off on the couch. You gazed at the clock on the side table near you and sure enough, 6:10 blinked back at you. Mike was finally home. You heard him shuffling around in the kitchen, most likely shedding his work vest and hanging his keys on the little hook by the door.

You yawned, trying to rub the sleep out of your eyes as you sat up on the couch. The blanket you used to cover yourself falling to pool around your waist. Mike finally made his way to the living room, sitting on the couch with a soft grunt.

“Hey,” he said quietly, his voice rough from lack of use. “Abby eat anything?”

“Yeah, a little,” You mutter back through a barely concealed yawn, head lolling to rest on the back of the couch. “You know how she is.”

He hums in acknowledgement but stays silent apart from that, keeping his gaze trained on the infomercial playing on TV. A comfortable silence settles over the two of you. You sit up even further on the couch, leaning against the arm rest facing Mike. The blue/green hue of the TV bathed him in light, his hair was unruly with curls sticking out at awkward angles. He had deep bags under his eyes. Just as you thought about getting up to take off, he spoke up again.

“I promise I’ll get you the money,” he says softly, not taking his eyes off the TV, “I…I just need some time.”

You scoff in mock annoyance, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “Mike, you know I don’t care about the money. I don’t mind doing this for you.” You reply, nudging his knee with your foot softly then just leaving it perched on his lap.

Mike finally turns to look at you, there's a strange look on his face that you can’t quite place, but you give him a small smile all the same. He stares at you for a few beats, you can practically see the gears turning in his head.

“You deserve something,” he whispers, his brows furrowed in frustration. “You do so much for me, it’s only fair.” As he speaks, he slowly moves his hand off the couch to your ankle still resting on his thigh, he starts rubbing slow circles over the skin there. His eyes never left yours as he touched you, a very obvious question in them. Asking if you wanted this.

Heat instantly rushed to your belly, cheeks turning a light shade of red at his touch. You’d always thought Mike was attractive, but you never would have imagined he’d want to be anything more than friends. Since he was already so busy with taking care of Abby and his hellish new job.

You swallow once before speaking, your throat feeling dry all of a sudden. “What are you suggesting?” You ask so softly, wondering if he even heard you. Mikes’ fingers stop in favor of trailing his hand up your calf in a featherlight touch, disappearing under the blanket to seek out more of your soft skin. Your heart is beating so fast you think you might die, the sound of it echoing in your ears loudly.

Mike's big brown eyes stare into yours with a newfound intensity, visibly shocked that you're reacting so viscerally to his touch, his pupils are blown to hell. Chocolate brown being swallowed by black. His tongue coming out to sweep over his top lip.

“How about you,” he says slowly, scooting closer to you on the small couch. He crowds into your personal space like he belongs there. Mike’s lips inches away from yours. He smells like old leather and dust from being cramped in the security office at Freddy’s. Your chest heaves as your eyes flit back and form from his eyes to his lips. Seconds drag by like hours as you painstakingly wait for him to finish his sentence. “Stay right there while I make you feel good.” He finally says, his breath fanning over your face hotly. You can’t even speak, afraid of how desperate you might sound, just nodding your head roughly once not looking away from his hungry gaze.

Mike’s hand runs up your leg quickly after you give him the green-light, slipping further under the blanket and higher up your leg until he reaches his destination. He rubs you gently through your shorts, your breath hitches sharply at what should be just a simple touch, but you’re still so worked up from earlier that it feels ten times more extreme. You grasp the blanket still strewn over your lap tightly in your fists, it's the only thing keeping you from seeing Mike’s hand at work between your legs.

Mike reacts to touching you for the first time like he can feel it too. His breath stutters out of his chest, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of your wet folds through your thin cotton sleeping shorts. “Fuck.” He breathes out quietly, so quietly you doubt he even meant to say it out loud. He opens his eyes again, breathing slightly rougher as he stares at you through his arousal induced haze and heavy eyelids.

Seeing your face must spur him on because he starts rubbing with more fervor than before, his clever fingers applying more pressure making you moan softly. You cut yourself off quickly, eyes darting down the hall to Abby's bedroom door. It's still closed, there's no light leaking through the crack between it and the floor.

"Shit, Mike." You whine quietly.

Mike groans softly at the sound of his name leaving your lips, body trembling slightly with the feeling. Suddenly he wrenches his hand out from under the blanket, and rips it off your lap frantically. You gasp sharply at the cool air breaking through the bubble of warmth the blanket provided, involuntarily closing your legs.

Mike pushes up from his position on the couch next to you, knee walking over to so he's kneeling in-front of your clenched thighs. You're still slightly sprawled across the cushions, leaning on the arm of the couch.

"Do you know how crazy you make me?" He asks roughly, putting both his hands on your still closed knees. It takes a second for your brain to catch up to answer him, after a few moments you finally manage a faint shake of your head.

"No?" He asks, tilting his head to the left slightly. "Let me show you then."

Mike grabs your wrist, tugging you closer to him, and leads your hand down into his lap. Your breath catches in your throat when he places your hand directly over his clothed erection, but it gets drowned out by Mike's louder whine thanks to you touching him for the first time. You drag your eyes downward, his dark grey sweatpants leave little to the imagination. He got more worked up touching you than you first thought, if the wet patch forming near the tip of his hard-on was anything to go by.

As soon as you started to rub him with purpose, Mike grabbed your wrist, halting your efforts. "No," He said breathlessly, practically panting. "No, this is for you tonight. Just wanna focus on you."

He let go of your wrist, turning his head in your direction. Both of you failed to realize how close you'd gotten when he dragged you to him. Your noses practically touch when he turns, catching you both off guard. His eyes travel down to your lips, staring at how red and puffy they'd gotten from you biting them to muffle your moans.

"How sweet of you, Mike." You whisper, leaning in just a tad closer. He lets out a guttural groan and closes the distance between your lips, claiming your mouth with his own. He leans forward, gently guiding you to lay back on the couch. His body completely covering yours as the two of you makeout, his arms on either side of your head and his hips slotting against yours, letting you feel the hard length of his cock against your cunt. You moan into his mouth, your hips bucking up to meet his.

Mike breaks the kiss with a whine, trying to muffle the noise by shoving his face in your neck. You bring your hands up to tangle in his curly hair, yanking it roughly as he starts littering kisses all along your collarbones. Nipping and sucking in-between his gasping little moans as you twist and pull his hair in your grip.

He tears his mouth away to stare up at you through his lashes, his lips are swollen and red. “Please,” He gasps out, his hips unconsciously grinding down into your thigh. “Let me eat you out. Please. Tell me I can, say I can.” He babbles, hips rutting faster every second you don’t answer him.

“Yes.” You exclaim as quietly as possible. “Do it, Mike. Eat me out.”

Mike’s whole body shudders at your words, eyes falling closed for a second before he quickly slides down your body, leaving an odd kiss here and there as he goes. He brings his hands up to grip the waistband of your shorts, pausing to take a single steadying breath, then he tugs them down along with your panties and tosses them aside. He stares down at you in awe for a good few moments before he lays on his stomach, right in front of your dripping cunt.

Mike kisses along the inside of your thighs for a bit, licking everywhere but where you want him to the most. “Thank you.” he mutters, tone way too earnest for the situation at hand but you don’t have much time to think about it before he’s diving face first into your thighs.

“Fuck!” You let your voice get way too loud in the quiet atmosphere of the house, but you can’t help it. You didn’t think Mike had lots of experience because of some late night drunken talks before, but he was either lying or holding out. He works his tongue expertly along every inch of you. Every swirl, flick, or suck has you catapulting to the edge way faster than you’d imagined.

It doesn't help that Mike keeps letting out these noises. Small needy whines or deep guttural groans that you can feel. He’s moaning like he’s the one getting head, unashamed and authentic. It’s so fucking sexy.

“Shit Mike, I’m close. I’m so close.” You whisper too quietly for him to hear with his head trapped between your thighs, but it doesn’t matter. Mike brings his thumb up to lightly circle your clit as he laps against your entrance, and you're gone.

Your thighs shake as you release, grabbing on Mike’s hair for dear life as you go through the most intense orgasm ever. He moans into your cunt, working you through the aftershocks. He laves his tongue along you until the overstimulation gets to be too much and you drag his face away by his hair.

He sits up, the bottom half of his face covered in spit and slick. That visual alone is almost enough to get you ready for round two. It’s silent except for the heavy breathing coming from you both.

After he catches his breath, Mike retrieves the blanket from behind his back somewhere to cover the lower half of your body. Your thighs are still shaking as he lays next to you, it’s a tight squeeze but neither of you seem to mind. He kisses the side of your face sweetly, throwing his arm around your waist to pull you in even closer.

You finally regain enough conscience to speak. “Are you sure you don’t want to get off?” You ask, “I mean I can’t feel my legs but I’m sure we could think of something.” Mike only laughs quietly, shaking his head. “Maybe next time, this was about you.” He said, beginning to rub his fingers back and forth on your hip. “Plus I, uh, I already sort of…” He trails off, a flush forming on his cheeks.

It took you a second to realize what he was saying, but when it clicked you couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped your mouth. You lifted up the blanket covering the two of you, and sure enough Mike had an impressive wet patch seeping through his sweats.

He pinches your hip lightly, offended by your giggling. “Don’t laugh at me,” He complains with a smile, yanking the blanket back up. “I couldn’t help it.”

You stifle another laugh to the best of your ability though your shoulders still shake ever so slightly. You turn your head to press a kiss to his lips. It’s different from the previous kisses you shared tonight. It’s slower and softer, full of a new emotion that you both feel, but know that it can wait to be talked about later. For now you’re both just basking in the afterglow.

You break the kiss first, pulling back only slightly to lean your forehead against his. You both smile at each other for a second. “Okay,” You give in, brushing a strand of sweaty hair away from his face. “But believe that tomorrow is all about you.”

7K notes · View notes

dreiadied · 7 months

Text

Movement

pairing: mike schmidt x afab!reader

summary: a double date that leads to mike schmidt coming home with you in the name of "helping your friend" and he ends up fucking you.

warnings: unprotected sex, no foreplay, creampie??, female pronouns, slight degrading??, pet names, heavy cussing, mike being hashtag v hot, no established relationship, porn with no plot, not proofread

word count: 2.1k words

author’s note: listen to movement by hozier for the full experience!!! I know this fic wasn't voted to be the first mike one to be posted but I had to do it okay!!!! he's so hot n sexy in this and i need him badly...please enjoy! mwah!

Your eyes scanned the restaurant in front of your car, you were promised a very nice dinner with a very nice man and the place you ended up might as well have been a denny’s. Gia somehow managed to rope you into a double date and as the amazing friend you are, you obliged. Now, you wanted to take it back. If the guy you were set up with wasn’t just an absolute heartthrob you might consider strangling her in the bathroom.

“Gia, this better be the best damn food and the hottest men you have ever experienced or I’m never doing you another favor ever again.” You teased, getting out of your car as she walked up to it.

“I swear he said this place was nicer! Thank you so much babes, I owe you one!” She responded, slipping her arm inside of yours to walk inside. “Maybe the inside is really nice and it’s just a shady exterior.”

You’d never seen the man Gia was seeing tonight so when the two of you arrived at the table you weren’t sure which man was yours, but you knew which one you wanted. He looked gentle, shaggy hair untamed almost like he wasn’t prepared to go on a date tonight.

“I suppose I’m your date.” He smiled softly, getting up to pull your chair out for you. “I’m MIke, you look uh, really beautiful tonight.”

After the introductions and small talk the two of you hit it off right away, it helped that Gia and her date were more interested in each other than remembering that the people they brought also existed. The more you talked the more Mike came out of his shell, he wasn’t as shy as you first pegged him to be. Your heel was slowly caressing his calf, neither of you were quite sure when it had ended up there but he wasn’t complaining.

“A man in uniform is hot.” Your flirting was a little rusty, but it seemed to be working just fine for you.

“It’s just a security gig.” He shrugged it off, maintaining eye contact with you the whole time.

You grabbed the straw of your drink, wrapped your tongue around it, and took a sip. Mike choked slightly but covered it up with a cough, adjusting his pants under the table at the same time.

“She’s not going to go home with him unless I go home with you.” You whispered in his ear as you leaned over the table, tangling your fingers in his hair to trick Gia into thinking you were whispering something dirty. “I’d really like to go home with you.”

You could feel the heat creep up his neck, his face was flushed. His heart might as well be on the outside of his chest with the intensity that it was beating, it’d been a long time since he’d been on a date or even gotten laid but Abby was at home and that just wouldn’t work.

“Uhm, my sister’s at home, can we go to your place?” Mike’s saliva was thick and pooling in his mouth, it felt almost impossible to swallow. He had to be dreaming, this just didn’t make sense otherwise. He was just doing his friend a favor and now your breath was hot on his neck and his jeans were uncomfortably tight.

The second the two of you walked outside he got fidgety, like he was going to take off the second you let go of his hand. Frankly he was surprised you hadn’t let go of it the second you picked it up, he was dripping sweat from the moment he realized you were his date. He quickly made a mental note to send a letter to the company who made his preferred deodorant, the fact that he didn’t smell absolutely putrid spoke volumes on their product.

“So did you mean what you said inside? Because I’m perfectly okay with just going home.”

“I meant it, don’t be so nervous.” You smiled back at him, handing him the keys to your car.

The tension was thick, his knuckles were white as he tried to keep his focus on the road ahead and making it back to your place safely and not the fingers drawing figures on his thigh as you spoke about something he couldn’t quite grasp.

Your place wasn’t too far from the restaurant that Gia’s date had picked, that Mike was thankful for. The longer he had to endure the torture that was your fingers on this thighs, the less his ability to be a gentleman and control himself existed. If it was up to him, he’d probably just pulled over and fucked you in the backseat of your own car but it wasn’t. He was a gentleman, he’d just met you all of a few hours ago, he knew better.

“This is the place.” You smiled softly as he pulled into your driveway.

“It’s nice.” He stated, handing your car keys back to you and taking your hand. “Suits you.”

Mike’s eyes wandered the walls, taking in every aspect of you, as you led him through the house. It didn’t take him long to notice that you lived alone, another thing he was now thankful for. His fingers trailed the zipper of your dress as he stood behind you in your bedroom, his other hand rubbing your arm and leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“Are you going to take it off?” Your voice was shaky and quiet, for the first time tonight you were nervous.

“And you thought I was the eager one.” He chuckled, tugging your hair back softly to give him just enough access to your face to make eye contact with you. “Do you get off on bringing strangers to your home and having them fuck you?”

A soft whimper escaped your lips, blessing the ears of the man behind you who responded with a groan. His lips made contact with your neck, biting and sucking at any of the skin he had access to. The hand that was holding your hair back made itself busy drawing the zipper of your dress further and further down until it couldn’t go any further, you shivered as the cold air hit your back.

Mike detached himself from your neck and took a step back, briefly admiring how disheveled you looked despite still being fully dressed, he made a quick motion for you to turn around and you obliged almost immediately. If you got his dick any harder it might’ve fallen off before he ever got the chance to use it.

He backed you into the bed, laying you down and sliding your dress off and into a pile on the floor. Another deep groan was emitted into the air as he took in the sight in front of him, you hadn’t worn a bra and the underwear you’d chosen left nothing to the imagination. Mike immediately started thanking whatever god was above for you and the experience he was about to have.

Your heart was pounding out of your chest. Truthfully, you hadn’t planned on sleeping with anyone tonight but then you saw him and your entire plan was flipped upside down. You lied about your friend not going home with her date if you didn’t leave with him, you didn’t want him to think you were desperate but he knew now. The second he touched the zipper of your dress, anything left of your facade was gone. You needed him.

“If you weren’t so fucking wet I would’ve thought you were only doing me a favor.” He spoke nonchalantly, rubbing his finger over your folds through your underwear. “ Or maybe you’re just a whore? Huh?”

“For you.” You choked out, words getting caught in your throat over his words.

At the beginning of the night you would’ve placed money on the fact that he wasn’t capable of things like this, it was like another side of him had come out during the drive to your house. You weren’t complaining, his words were getting to you in a way you’d never experienced.

“Yeah? For me? Mikey’s own personal whore.” He slipped your underwear to the side and slid his finger through your folds, collecting your juices and bringing them to his mouth. “You’re as sweet as you look, need a honey jar full of you.”

You cried out at him softly, trying to use anything you had to stop his teasing. He was winding you up but edging you right before you could pop, he could’ve said anything and you would’ve agreed just to get him to fuck you. Being this desperate for a man you hardly knew was an exhilarating experience.

“Please, I need you.” You whined, grabbing at his shirt in a desperate plea. “Please.”

“Good job using your words, pretty girl.” Mike praised, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your underwear and pulling them down, throwing them in the same pile as your dress.

His clothes soon joined yours on the floor, a small pout emerging when you realized you wouldn’t be able to suck him off, his eyes catching yours as he climbed up your body. He kissed his way up, biting occasionally. Fingers tracing your skin just as you had done to him earlier in the night, lighting a fire on your skin as they went. It was like his body was made to fit yours, like your souls had searched for each other through every lifetime and yet this was the first time they had met.

His lips finally met yours for the first time, teeth nipping at your bottom lip as he pulled away to breathily whisper something in your ear. You shook your head in agreement at whatever he said, as long as he kept touching you like that and making noises in your ear you’d agree to anything he said to you.

Shaking your head yes was the best decision you’d made so far, you felt two fingers slip inside of you. Thrusting for a few moments before they were replaced by the tip of his cock, slowly pushing in as his mouth found one of your nipples. The gentle man you had once perceived had been replaced by a god who was hung like a horse, splitting you in half with the cock fit for a god.

“Fuck.” Mike moaned, tipping his head back when he bottomed out, taking your legs and placing them on his shoulders. “So good, pretty girl.”

Anything you had planned on responding with quickly dissipated the second he pulled out and thrusted back in, a low groan coming out insead. His fingers were digging into your thighs as he held them up where he wanted them, all you could hope for was the imprints bruising as a reminder that this actually happened. What hair that wasn’t sticking to his skin from the sweat covering it was dangling backwards freely, all his focus was on not cumming too soon and if he continued to look at you he definitely would.

Your eyes had glossed over a long time ago, tears streaming down the sides as a byproduct of the blissful state his cock had put you in, fingers gripping desperately at the sheets and your tits bouncing with each thrust. He was once again praying to every god that he would get to do this another time, then he could sear the image of you under him into his mind.

“Mike, Mikey I need..” You whined, the knot in your stomach twisting and turning, threatening to spill before you could even finish a coherent thought.

“C’mon pretty girl, you can do it, let it go.” He praised you, bringing his thumb down to your clit and drawing figure eights in time with his thrusts to help your orgasm spill over.

His words were the final piece in the puzzle, your orgasm hitting you soon after he spoke. Legs shaking, mind blowing, tears, and silent moans was all your body could do at the supernova your orgasm had proved to be. You’d never cum this hard before but if every orgasm after didn’t measure up, he had ruined you.

“You did so good.” Was all you heard as you came down from your high, Mike’s hands soothed down your hair as he whispered into your ear.

His thrusts continued at the same pace for only a few seconds before his hips stuttered and he painted your insides white.

“I guess tonight wasn’t a total waste.” You joked quietly, turning to the side to smile at him as he laid down next to you.

“We need to do this more often.”

8K notes · View notes

dreiadied · 7 months

Text

SURVEILLANCE

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (in established relationships with m!oc/not named)

Summary: Javier's been surveilling your boyfriend and has to listen to everything you two are saying. And doing. So one day he does something really unprofessional.

Tw: 🔞mdni smut voyeurism, m!masturbation, Javi is a little obsessed with you, dirty talk, lots of horny daydreaming, piv, threesome, dp, breeding kink, swearing, lmk if I missed something

Word count: 1,8k

A/n: gif by @azertyrobaz Thank you @milla-frenchy for helping me find the perfect gif and your undying support🫂😘

Javier is sitting at his desk in the office, fiddling with the headset cord and staring at the photo of you peeking out of a folder. He sees just the top of your head and your eyes. Your gorgeous eyes looking up and to the side at someone next to you. They’re full of love, affection and something animalistic, instinct induced. He wishes you were looking at him like that.

The DEA has been surveilling you for almost a month. Well not you but your dickhead of a boyfriend. He was one of Escobar’s people, just a middle man, but they believed that they could gather some useful information by closely monitoring him and his associates. The DEA began direct surveillance - tailing him and you, taking pictures and documenting everything. They also bugged your boyfriend’s place and could hear everything that was said and done there.

Usually surveillance was a tiring and boring process, like searching for a gold nugget in a huge pile of dirt. But not this time. Not with you involved.

When they began the operation Javier tried to stay impartial to you as well as everything and everyone connected to the target. For some fucking reason he couldn’t do that. When he heard your voice, the way you talked and carried yourself something woke up inside him. Something that was dormant and pushed out of his life, again and again. He heard your voice and remembered himself younger, longing to touch and be touched, yearning for connection, as well as passion and lust. His desires were satiated by meaningless hookups, fleeting affairs suffocated by the amount of stressful work. Javier liked it this way, as he didn’t see himself settling down for a quiet family life.

And then he heard your voice. Soft and quiet, yet powerful in its seductive beauty.

They all took shifts to listen in on your boyfriend and you every morning, day and night. Javier couldn’t miss anything as every minor detail could lead to a breakthrough. The first time you two had sex he had to listen.

To Javi’s surprise you loved talking during sex. The dirtiest phrases were flying into his ears and straight to his cock. “Si, papi! Like that, grab my tits. Oh yes, fuck me harder.” He had to adjust himself several times and couldn’t wait to leave work to visit one of his prostitutes.

The second time he realized where it was going by the kissing noises so he took off the headset and waited for you to finish. He felt dirty and creepy listening and getting turned on.

Instead he took more direct surveillance shifts following you two and that’s where another trap was waiting for him. On top of your filthy little mouth and banging body you turned out to be nice. Lovely even. You would help your elderly neighbours, look after your little sister whenever your parents asked and glow with genuine happiness playing with her in the park. He saw you talking to the other kids there, giving your warmth generously to them and his lips would involuntarily curl up in a smile. For a second or longer Javier imagined you pregnant with his child, carrying his love inside you. Your belly round under that summer dress, breasts spilling out of the neckline, ripe and ready to feed his child. He saw the moment he’d put his seed into you - your legs on his shoulders, him folding you in half by his weight, thrusting his cock deep and hard. He’d pump you full of his hot cum and leave his cock inside you for a night so it would stick. He’d have a family with you. He’d have you.

Javier wasn’t delusional, he knew you weren’t his. And you seemed to really love your boyfriend. Yet the son of a bitch surely didn’t deserve the way you looked at him.

When Javi was the one to tail you two he easily could spot the desire on your pretty face, your cheeks flushed, eyes blown out, chest heaving. You seemed insatiable, always hungry for a touch, a kiss. You’d hold your boyfriend’s hand walking down the street, rest your head on his shoulder standing in a queue, grind against his body dancing in a bar. You were gorgeous.

The nights out were the worst. You always wore a skimpy dress showing off your soft curves, or a pair of tight jeans hugging your butt perfectly. The way you danced drove Javier insane - your hips swaying with the beat, hands snaking up and down your body, touching yourself in all the places Javi wanted to kiss and lick you. He imagined being there with you, pressing his broad chest to your back, holding your waist close to him and kissing your neck, you two moving rhythmically with the music. He’d take your chin in his hand to make you look at him and kiss you, squeezing your breast and pushing his hard-on in between your asscheeks. He’d take you home and rip the clothes off you like a wolf impatient to devour a bunny. He’d suck, bite and then kiss better every inch of your sweaty body until you begged him to fuck you. He’d smirk and place his hands on your inner thighs pushing them open and lowering his face to your pussy, “Papi’ll make you come a few times first, how about that?”

Javi rubs his face as the slapping sounds in his ears get louder. He leans back in his chair and lifts the hips to ease the pressure on his aching cock. He already feels the dampness on his skin. He must have been leaking precum for some time now. You’ve been making out probably on your bed, your soft whimpers slowly hardening his cock. Javier drops his head back with a deep sigh and closes his eyes. You’re full on moaning in his headphones now and he adjusts them to hear you better. His mind tells him that he needs to stop, get out of here, have a smoke. But then the image of you appears behind his eyelids, so clear and vivid that his breathing hitches for a moment. His imagination feeds on the way you sing right into his ears and Javier sees you caged in by his own body, squirming and pleading, “Fuck me, Javi. Te necesito.”

The sounds you’re making being used by another man’s cock shoot straight to his member. He’s throbbing for you, he can already feel the pulsations against his skin.

Javier can’t take it anymore. The desire seems so powerful it burns like fire behind his eyelids. He opens his eyes and looks down at his huge bulge. His hand slides down to his crotch and he palms himself through the jeans.

“Your cock’s so big, papi! My little pussy can barely take it.”

Filthy girl! A moan escapes his lips joining the one you’re making in his headphones.

He quickly bites his lip to shut himself up. Fortunately everyone’s left for the day, but he’s still at work. Javier undoes the zipper and his cock springs out of its confines and bobs dripping on Javi’s shirt. He curses seeing a few wet spots staining the fabric. He hastily takes a hold of his weeping member keeping it head up and spreads the liquid left over the tip with his thumb.

“Rub my clit, papi, yes, like this, wanna come on your big dick,” you whine with need in your voice and Javier groans as another drop of precum beads and then slides down on his hand. His arousal mixes with anger. Why is it affecting him that much? He’s not a fucking teenager getting a boner every time he sees a pretty girl. Why did his dick take over his mind and senses? “Pendejo!” Javier lets go of his cock and gives it a slap on its side with an open palm. His stiff cock is swaying from side to side and Javi snarls watching it grow even bigger. The pain adds to the pleasure and the need becomes unbearable. He gives in.

Javier spits into his hand and starts off slow, jerking his length with short strokes feeling its hot soft skin under his calloused hand.

“Can I suck on your thumb, papi, while you’re fucking me? I miss your cock in my mouth.”

You cry out the fucker’s name after a hard thrust and then your sounds are muffled apparently by the finger in your mouth. First Javi drives away the thoughts of the other man. He shuts his eyes seeing you again in his mind but with his cock buried deep inside your glistening pussy, his balls hitting your ass as your breasts are bouncing after every slam of his hips. Javi’s mind is on fire and his hand starts moving faster. Up and down, up and down. He twists his wrist from time to time and he hears that you’re close too. He wants to jump into the abyss together with you, and listens carefully, concentrates on your breathing, trying not to miss that sweet sound, a tell of your climax hitting you. He’s heard it many times by now and imagined it even more, alone in his bed, in the shower, even with another woman. That sound pushes him over every time, makes his cock erupt on his hand or in another pussy. He's pumping his cock vigourously, roughly without pity. He hears the other man’s groans as the fucker must be close as well. At the back of his mind Javi registers how hot this forbidden threesome is. He can’t help but see the three of you in a bed together. Your body splayed over your boyfriend’s, front up and Javi’s between your gorgeous legs. Two cocks sliding into your little pussy at the same time making you whine and grip the sheets. He’d bend over to take your nipple into his mouth and after finding a steady rhythm, they’d fuck you together until you are spasming around the two cocks.

“Si, si, like that, papi,” you squeal and Javi feels his balls tighten. You make THAT sound and when you hold your breath he knows you’re coming, your muscles tight, eyes shut, hands gripping your knees to keep your legs open so he could see your pussy contracting around his cock, clit twitching, your juices soaking his dick. All he hears now is squelching noises of your pussy being stuffed full of another man’s cum and Javi snarls and comes hard, shooting his hot seed all over his jeans, hand and the cord. Globs of cum spill from his cock and slide down his length. He doesn’t care about the mess and milks it to the last drop. Javi’s panting hard, you two echoing him in the headphones. He lets go of his softening cock and stares at your folder on his desk. His mind is finally clear. He must have you.

—————

Pendejo-dumbass

Papi- daddy

Te necesito- I need you

Thank you for reading!

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!💖

Tag list: @ghoulettesinspace @iamasaddie @starkovli @missannwinchester @lucyisdoingfine @marysucks-blog

385 notes · View notes

dreiadied · 8 months

Text

‘Cause It’s Delicate - Masterlist

Boyfriend’s Dad! Joel Miller x Female Reader

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION.

series summary: It’s Labor Day weekend. Newly engaged, your fiancé’s father invites the two of you to spend it at his beautiful beach house in Outer Banks, North Carolina with him for a final celebration before summer officially comes to an end—little do you know, this one holiday weekend is going to turn your whole life upside down and change it for the worse…and the better.

series warnings/tags: 18+ only, MINORS DNI. No Outbreak, AU. AGE GAP (reader is 26, Joel is his early 50’s) non canon, i do mention characters from the canon universe though. Joel is recently divorced, mentions of his ex wife, talk of infidelity, act of infidelity (not Joel and reader). implied strained relationship, insecurity, anxiety, reader deserves better, Joel is super soft in this. angst, smut. chapters will come with their own individual warnings.

a/n: so i said i would bring something i wrote out of my lil vault of sorts and in editing, it doubled in word count and there were too many scenes and it spiraled out of control (as did i) so it’s a mini series now (emphasis on mini). so yeah, here i am, tossing my name into the boyfriend’s (well fiancé) dad hat. this is very self indulgent, i am finally learning to not be afraid to step out of my comfort zone and well, here we are. tbh i wish i would’ve just posted during the summer season buuuut better late than never. for anyone who read the original summary, don’t worry, i am sticking to that plot point but you’ll see why it turned into a series instead of staying a one shot. 🌊 big thank you to my bb doni @morning-star-joy for letting me scream to her about the idea before and who let me scream about it to her again when i finally found the cahones to announce i’d be posting it. 🤍

September 1st - Friday

September 2nd - Saturday

September 3rd - Sunday

September 4th - Monday (Epilogue)

divider credit to the lovely @saradika

579 notes · View notes

dreiadied · 8 months

Text

Dylan's stepfather

bsf!Joel x f!reader Rating: 18+ Halloween special.

Summary: From the first time you met your boyfriend's stepfather, you found him quite attractive. You could see how his gaze towards you changed over the months. At his neighbor's party, you see that he wants you too.

Warnings: age gab (joel in his 40's, reader early 20's) pet names, comfort person, smut, teasing, fingering, oral (f! receiving), infidelity (on both sides), soft! joel

A/N: just have this in mind, he's a nice stepdad, I don't support infidelity, I just wanted to share my dirty thoughts that's it.

You never thought your relationship with Dylan would go this far.

From the first moment you met him you knew he would be an important person in your life, you were different in so many ways. You were friends from the beginning, but as a man he didn't avoid having a crush on you, he had confessed it to you at a party, you only remember rejecting him at the time because you only saw him as your friend.

But surprise… Because of how close you were he knew everything about you, he knew when something was wrong, he was always with you when you needed a shoulder, when you needed advice. You always appreciated him for that, and from one moment to the next you saw him with different eyes. He was no longer just your best friend, but a guy who would always be there for you, that you could trust and turn to whenever you wanted.

Despite being best friends, you still didn't know his family, because you never went to his house, whenever you went out it was to fairs, to the movies or with other friends to parties. But you knew his dad had left when he was 6 years old, and you knew his mom had a partner he'd been with for 5 years.

All went to shit when you decided to kiss him, that kiss led to more, and that more became a new story for both of you.

They decided to keep the relationship as smooth as possible, they didn't want to rush things, everything in their own time.

On one of those nights out, he let you sleep at his house since you were too drunk to go home. You didn't sleep more than 3 hours, you woke up trying not to wake him, took your boots in hand and left the room quietly. You staggered down the stairs a little from sleep and the alcohol you had in your system.

"Who is love?" a female voice sounded in the background in the kitchen, a female silhouette peeked out from behind the man who kept watching you from head to toe, when you saw the lady you knew it was Dylan's mom, she looked a lot like him.

When you reached the bottom of the stairs one of your boots fell out of your hands, you cursed under your breath since the house was in total silence and total darkness, you lifted it up and at the same time the light in the kitchen that was at the back came on illuminating part of the living room and the front door.

You froze at the sight of Dylan's stepfather leaning back on the kitchen doorstep. It was the first time you'd seen him in person. All drunk, disheveled and barefoot, what a great introduction.

"Oh," she covered her mouth when he saw you, "Hello," she said your name

"Hi" You looked at both of them with your eyes narrowed by the light "I'm sorry, I didn't want to bother anyone, I was leaving" You stepped to the front door to take the doorknob in your hands

"don't worry darlin, be careful"

After that, Dylan decided that it would be prudent to introduce you formally, since his mother already knew about you and it would be best if she knew you in a better state.

You just turned around to give them both a smile and quickly left the house.

That had been your introduction to the parents of your best friend, now boyfriend named Dylan.

It had already been 4 months since that meeting and since he introduced you to his parents. Better circumstances in meeting your mother-in-law and father-in-law… That you found really attractive, it was all a dream. He was cute, gentlemanly, he was funny, he had a dreamy smile, his big, stocky body, you knew he was a contractor, that's why he was so good.

You don't know how many times you've dreamed about him since you met him. It was agony to go to his house and see him sitting on the couch with a beer in hand, sometimes he wore shorts, other times he came home from work, they were the best because you could see him come home at night, Ready for dinner, but before he always went to bathe to look presentable, and you were grateful for it since you could appreciate the way his hair looked wet, his wet curls falling down his forehead, the smell of soap on his skin, a sensual man you wanted to take you right in the kitchen, at the table where he ate with his family.

He always treated you well, invited you to dinner with them, you went out with them, and even when Dylan was busy and didn't listen to you, he would invite you to watch the football game with him. Those moments were the ones you cherished the most. Those were the only minutes where you could be close to him, rubbing your knee against his, laughing along with him, talking about his afternoons, where you could appreciate his beauty more closely for a few more minutes.

Your friend told you that you were obsessed with your boyfriend's stepfather, as much as you wanted it to be a lie, it wasn't, she told you that you should mess with him once and for all to end the agony, that you should do it to see if it was just a whim or you really liked it.

It was crazy for you to think you could do such a thing. You knew it would be hard since Joel Miller doesn't look like the easy guy, he was going to give you too many buts for being his stepson's girlfriend or worse, think you're crazy for trying to mess with him.

On one of those evenings, Dylan invited you to a costume party his neighbor would be giving. He told you that normally his neighbor likes to give parties and they always go, according to him there is always something new, something that makes it different from all the previous ones, this time would not be the exception.

Being in his neighbor's backyard you realized that they all knew each other, they were all close. You felt a little out of place because everyone was getting to know you for being Dylan's new girlfriend, yuck.

You had forgotten the disgust for those titles.

Everyone was raving about how beautiful you were, how beautiful you looked in your dorothy dress, what you wore more than anything to get Joel's attention with the neckline and how small it was, so much so that when you sat down next to him you noticed that he looked away from your thighs when he saw that the dress had gone up revealing more of them.

You were drinking from your glass when his voice snapped you out of your thoughts.

On the other hand, he was dressed as a pirate, he looked ridiculously sexy, with the hat and the dark t-shirt that was open the first two buttons revealing his chest with pubic hair.

The food was pleasant, you could feel his gaze on you from time to time, he would let his eyes fall on you when Dylan talked, since you were in the middle of both of them, it was a good opportunity to be able to appreciate you.

"Boring?"

You turned to look at him by lowering the glass and setting it down on the table. He had that cute smile that he always gives you when the two of you are alone.

"Not really, I'm waiting for the action Dylan promised me" you smiled coquettishly at him as you turned a little in your seat facing him

"Mmh, I'm sure this time it's going to be karaoke," he said, mimicking your action and putting his arm behind your seat, brushing his fingers against your right shoulder.

"Why do you think that?" You crossed your right leg over your left, swung it a little so that your leg touched his which was covered by his dark pants and boots.

His body was giving you signals, as he brought his leg closer to yours

"Trevor likes to sing, I always hear him through the patio door"

Both of you laughed and stared at each other for a while, until you decided to speak

"Have you come to many of these parties?" You leaned your arm against the back of your chair, your hand hovering near his bare forearm

"Amm I haven't always had the taste, I've only been in 2" He took his beer and drank from it while watching you

You frowned, "but… You've lived here for 5 years haven't you?" your voice dropped when you say the last thing

"haha no honey"

Honey!? It was the first time he had called you anything other than your name

"I've only lived here 2 years, the parties I've had" he smiled at you and you smiled back

You knew he was going to tell you something, but Dylan's mom's voice came in.

"Honey, could you help Trevor put his horns down," she said, leaning back on the table with both hands and making puppy dog eyes

Joel removed his hand from behind your chair and stood up grunting on the spot, before he walked away he turned to look at you and said

"I told you so"

You smiled as you watched him walk away. Forgetting that Dylan's mom was still at the table, dressed as a pirate.

"What did he tell you?" You turned to look at her with the stupid smile on your lips, you just laughed awkwardly

"We were talking about what would be the big surprise this time, and he said karaoke" You gave her a smile and she just smiled a little

"Always know before everyone" she looked at you for a few more seconds while you nodded to her answer and then spoke again "I'll be back now, have fun darling"

"Thank you," you said as she walked away

Dylan was by your side, he was dressed up as the joker because he didn't like the wizard of oz, on the other hand he didn't pay attention to you, whenever he was with people he knew from a long time ago he forgot about you, he concentrated more on his conversation with that person, you wanted him to include you in his conversations.

You sat for a long time doing nothing, watching in the distance Joel connecting the speakers with his ridiculous but sexy pirate costume, you saw how he talked to Trevor animatedly, the smiles he gave to Dylan's mom. Whenever you see her remember that he's her partner, you remember how twisted it all is, how wrong it is to want him, especially since he's Dylan's stepfather. He's been there for him every step of the way, watched him grow up and been a father figure to him from the first moment he met him.

From drinking so much soda your bladder was about to explode, you couldn't help but wrinkle your nose from the urge to urinate. You turned to look at Dylan to touch him on the shoulder and get his attention, he turned to look at you with his eyes open.

"What happened?" he said a little quickly

"I need to go to the bathroom," you said in a whisper

You got up sighing heavily, smoothed your dress, tried to grab it with your hands as the air was lifting it up and the people around you were watching you. In the distance you saw Joel by the speakers talking to Mr. Trevor, you walked up to him and touched his shoulder, he turned and smiled at you.

"Go up the stairs, it´s on the right side at the end of the hallway" The music was present and on top of that he spoke too fast that you barely understood him.

You just nodded and he turned to continue their conversation.

"Hey… Do you know where the bathroom is?" You moved closer to his ear so you could talk to him, as the music was loud and you were both standing next to them.

He came close to your ear to speak to you and your skin crawled as you felt his hot breath close to your skin.

"it´s on the second floor," he said, almost shouting, as soon as you heard his voice over the music

"Eeh!?" you looked at him confused, pointing to your ear and horn, implying that you didn't hear him

He just sighed, turned to see Trevor whispering something in his ear, then took your arm and led you to the steps that led to the door of the living room. Once inside the house, which remained in absolute silence and with some table lamps on, giving a subdued atmosphere, he turned to look at you while he let go of your arm and pointed to the stairs that were in the hallway.

"To your right, the last door at the back," he said as he walked around the room picking up some cans that were on the coffee table

You walked over to the stairs and looked up, the entire second floor was in complete darkness. You swallowed and looked at him, you saw how he left the cans in a bag near the kitchen and he turned to look at you, he laughed when he saw that you were still at the top of the stairs.

"What's wrong?" he came to your side and turned upwards and then turned his eyes back to you, "Are you afraid of the dark?" he let out a small laugh in mockery

You looked at him and fell silent, answering his question.

"For God's sake, honey" he sighed, again that name, it would be your end if he called you that way again "Let's go" he waved with his hand for you to follow him upstairs.

You climbed the stairs behind him, trying to see where you were stepping. You passed through the corridor that was dimly lit by the light that came through the windows that looked out onto the courtyard where the party was going on.Suddenly, Joel stopped in front of a white door and beckoned you in.

"The bathroom" He opened the door for you and turned on the light, coming out of it to let you in

"There's no light in the hallway?" You stood at the entrance to the bathroom looking at him in the darkness

"Probably yes, but he doesn't like to have the lights on" You could see the sparkle in his eyes because of the little light that came in, he looked so attractive in the dark.

"Can you wait for me?" you gave him your puppy look as you leaned your cheek against the door and looked at him from under your eyelashes

When you closed the door the atmosphere changed, you felt a sudden pain in your chest and stomach, anguish? Nerves? You looked in the mirror and just smiled, a nervous smile.

You heard him curse under his breath and let out a heavy sigh looking out the window and then returning his gaze to you, he just nodded and you saw him leaning against the wall in front of the window and to the side of the bathroom.

You just smiled and closed the door.

You relieved yourself and then washed your hands, wet your braids that hung at both ends of your shoulders. You looked in the mirror and your self-esteem went up, you really looked great in the costume, you hoped Joel had made a comment about it, you longed for a 'you look beautiful in that dress' 'wizard of oz, I like that movie' something that made you feel special.

You decided it was time to leave, Joel would probably be gone by now and you'd have to go down the hall of horror by yourself. You opened the door with your eyes down and when you pulled it up or surprise, Joel was still there, leaning against the wall with the light of his cell phone shining on his face. He turned it off when he noticed your presence, he smiled at you.

"All right?" He looked you up and down checking that everything was in order.

"All right" you smiled at him and for a moment you thought about it…

You had it right in front of you, alone, in a dark hallway that was only lit by the light of the bathroom and the dim light of the patio. He looked at you a little confused as you fell silent while you watched him, you couldn't think of anything else to say other than…

"Could you help me with something…?" You looked into his eyes trying not to see or hear you nervously

He pulled away from the wall to approach the bathroom door and look inside, look at you from above.

"How can I help you?" he said almost in a whisper, causing his voice to come out hoarse and deep.

"Can you come in?" you stepped aside, making room for him to enter the bathroom

You saw how his eyes swept over the bathroom, he was thinking about it, you sighed silently, you recoiled when you saw him come in and close the door behind him. You leaned against the sink while you looked at him, he was looking at you from the door, leaning back and you could notice a bulge in his pants, it wasn't that noticeable but you noticed it easily, you hadn't even done anything and it was already like that.

You turned around with your back to him, you looked at him in the mirror and noticed that he ran his eyes down your legs while keeping his mouth half open, you smiled the moment his eyes connected with yours.

"Could you squeeze my corset please" you said it in the most seductive, cute and flirtatious tone you could, you looked at it over your eyelashes wiggling them while tilting your head to the side.

Joel didn't say anything, just approached you from behind, stopped, and delicately ran his hands over the fabric around your waist. You felt his hands untie the knot of your dress, suddenly he pulled the ribbons hard and you let out a groan. He look at you through the reflection of the mirror waiting for you to say something, you just looked at it.

"That hard, is it alright?" Again his voice sounded hoarse from deep in his throat

"Yes… it´s alright" you couldn't stop looking at him with those eyes, you knew they drove him crazy, especially since that's how Dylan's mom looked at him… always looked at him like that, always.

He tied your bows back into a bun, when he finished he left his hands resting on your lower back, his gaze was lost somewhere on it. You jumped at the feel of his hands on the hem of your dress, his fingers brushing against the skin of your thighs.

"This dress is too small to be Dorothy" his gaze was still behind you

"It was the only one they had" you said in a small whisper, now your voice came out nervous

"The only one" he repeated while letting out a laugh, he looked up and looked straight into your eyes, he was much taller than you, despite wearing heels he was still tall, so you could see his face perfectly on top of yours. You noticed that his eyes turned dark and his smile faded and his jaw hardened

"Dylan doesn't like Wizard of Oz."

"I know" you slowly turned to face him, you looked up at him while he lowered his gaze with his face still serious.

You caressed his veiny arms, felt him tense under your touch, couldn't help but bring your body closer to his and felt a series of emotions and sensations as you felt his bulge near your pelvis.

"I used it for you," you leaned up and whispered close to his lips. That was the end for him to lose his sanity.

Oh my! It felt big, it definitely was, you had no doubt about it.

He, for his part, closed his eyes at the contact.

You saw him abruptly walk away from you, you saw him go to the switch and turn off the light in the bathroom, the only light coming in was the backyard light through the window next to you. He come back to you and take you by the face delicately to join your lips in a slow but sensual kiss at the same time. You felt his tongue ask for access and you opened your lips for it to enter, you couldn't help but make a moan from the pressure that his mouth was making on yours.

You placed both hands at the ends of his arms, stroking up and down stopping at his wrists. His hands went down your sides, your neck, your arms, until they reached your waist and surrounded it with both arms drawing you to him.

Joel pulled you towards him so that your buttocks squealed through the sink material, making your dress ride up more revealing your white cotton panties that you were wearing. The new posture made you couldn't help but lift both legs and encircle his waist and if possible be closer to him feeling his hard erection touch your panties. Because of the friction, Joel couldn't help but let out a groan in your throat.

You parted for lack of breath and a trickle of saliva was present between your lips.

You couldn't imagine a hotter scenario than this, and that it was with Joel.

Joel couldn't help but touch you desperately, he ran his hands down your thighs going up under the fabric, lifted you up a little so he could put his hands under your buttocks and squeeze them in the most delicious way, he was massaging them while his tongue ran over your mouth.

"I want to taste you so damn bad," Joel's words came out between gasps, trying to get the air back in his lungs.

"I want to taste you too" You looked at him desperately and put your right hand on his growing erection, gasping as you felt the size and thickness under the pants. Joel couldn't help but let out a laugh when he saw your reaction.

"You can take it, I know that little mouth can" he left a kiss on your lips as he walked away you gasped "but tonight it's about you and this one" his right hand left your buttocks to position itself between your legs and touch your clit on the fabric of your panties, you gasped on contact "this pretty pussy that cries desperately to be tested"

"Joel. . . Please" you cried as you felt the friction between his fingers and your clit, the pain you felt was unbearable, you needed to free yourself from that pressure

"I'm desperate too honey" the words came from his lips as he put his hands in your dress and grabbing the beginning of your panties he lowered them little by little letting them fall to the floor.

From one moment to the next Joel was kneeling in front of you, holding your thighs and resting one of them on his shoulder, while your other leg is more open and your heel resting on the dresser, you were at his disposal, completely. You felt the air from the window enter and touch your pussy that was crying out loud to feel Joel.

“so beautiful” his words were getting lost in the skin of your inner thigh as he moved up with delicate kisses along it. He stopped when he was inches from your clit. You felt his breath caress your wet entrance and you couldn't help but moan in desperation, grabbing his hair by the nape of his neck to bring him closer.

He just laughed and finally joined his lips with your vaginal lips. A loud whimper left your lips as you threw your head back.

“Calm down, sweetheart, you must be careful with those cute moans.” His hand that was holding your leg open, he directed it to your lips to open them wide with his fingers and have better access to your clit. He approached it and with the tip of his tongue he began to touch it from one side to the other.

It was impossible for you to stay silent, you had fantasized about this moment for a while, and just when it came to pass, it was at a damn party full of people, including your respective partners. With your right hand you covered your whimpers but you couldn't help but uncover it to hold Joel's hair with both hands and pull him closer to you.

Joel realized that it was difficult for you to stay silent, you only saw how he left his place to get up and stand in front of you. You looked at him confused, you were about to protest when you saw that he took off the bandana that he was wearing on his wrist and without warning he put it over your mouth, tying it around the back of your head. The bandana got between your lips and your teeth clenched it.

“I need you to stay quiet so I can give you the best oral orgasm you will ever have.”

Hell yeah

Just hearing that husky voice with that southern accent could make you come in seconds. You just nodded, seeing him with crystallized eyes screaming for him to end your agony.

He returned to position himself between your legs and without warning he buried his head between your legs, you let out a merciless moan.

“aahh” you moaned through the red fabric.

The movements that Joel made with his lips and tongue were forbidden, inappropriate, he was attached to you like a hungry puppy to its mother. He accelerated and slowed down the pace of his tongue when he touched your clit, as you could imagine it was red from so much friction and suffering. You felt his tongue pass through your entrance, you felt how he put it in and out to slide it back through your folds and reach your clitoris to suck on it. You were afraid that the bandana wouldn't be enough to silence your whimpers and moans from the guests below.

You were so close when Joel pulled away and sat up. Your vision was blurred with tears, your body arched asking for more, you needed to finish as soon as possible or you would break right then. Joel, he can notice your suffering and he dedicate some words of consolation to you.

“I'm going to give it to you,” he looked at you over your eyelashes, joining his forehead with yours to say in a whisper, “but I need it between my fingers.”

Those last words were accompanied by a moan from you while his fingers separated your folds, making their way to your entrance. When you felt two of his fingers enter slowly, you whimpered, shedding a tear. At no time did you separate your eyes from his, his gaze was full of desire, you could see that the wait also hurt him. He was admiring every expression your face made when you felt his fingers inside you, the way your lips trembled and opened, letting out little moans asking for more, the way you drew your eyebrows together, how you threw your head back in pleasure, the way you moved your body along with his fingers, how your body arched from the pleasure his fingers provided.

If that was because of his fingers, he couldn't imagine how he would have you on his cock

His fingers had a firm and constant movement, moving in and out of you quickly. He needed to feel you as soon as possible, he accelerated his movements while with his other hand he caressed your red clit, your breathing was labored and accelerated, creating a hot aura on your chest.

"Cum on my fingers darling, be a good girl and cum.” That was the last thing you heard before you lost your sanity and collapsed on his fingers.

Both of your hands ended up on his arms, you held him with such great strength that you would surely leave marks from your nails on his skin. Your moans and whimpers filled the bathroom echoing off the walls, Joel held you with his free arm so you wouldn't lose your balance and hit the mirror.

A few seconds passed, you had your head resting on his chest, his fingers had already left your pussy, both of his arms held you by the waist, caressing it over the fabric of your dress. While you tried to regulate your breathing, your legs trembled from the effort and pressure they exerted. This was you, a mess thanks to Joel Miller.

“Do you need a few more minutes?” Joel's voice returned to the room

You let out a heavy sigh and nodded your head still on his chest. You slowly raised your head as you felt Joel's hands untie the knot of the bandana that still covered your lips, he removed it and massaged your cheeks and then leaned in and placed a kiss on your lips.

You smiled weakly at him.

"are you okey?" He asked you with a concerned tone in his voice.

"Yes...just” you laughed nervously “that was great”

you said looking him in the eyes, he gave you a smile and kissed your forehead

“I'll go to the bathroom in the other room, come down to the party or someone will notice.”

“okay”

You got off the sink and reached over to grab some paper to clean yourself, you threw the paper away and bent over so you could grab your panties off the floor and put them on. Joel gave you one last look before leaving the bathroom, you heard the door to the other room close and that's when you left the bathroom.

Once you were at the party again, you realized that everything was still the same, they were singing with the music at a questionable volume, but you were grateful for that.

Dylan was near the pool talking with his friends, and his mother was at a table chatting animatedly with one of her neighbors. Everything was normal, no one noticed your lack of presence. You stayed close to where the beers were while you drank one, in the distance you saw how Joel was leaving the house, as if nothing had happened, his clothes arranged, his hat on and the damn bandana with which he covered your mouth, was put on your wrist.

You watched as he returned to Trevor. You knew he felt your gaze because shortly afterward he turned to see you, with that damn smile.

You didn't know when it would happen again, or if it would happen again….but you looked forward to that day.

409 notes · View notes