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chelliebelle · 5 months ago

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I DON'T SEE A RING ON YOUR FINGER | n. kento

꩜ SUMMARY . . having just finalized his divorce, a bitter kento tries to find the end to his sorrows in the bottom of a liquor bottle. but when a pretty young thing comes fluttering by his side, he decides there's no better time to get laid than now. ꩜ WORD COUNT . . 4.9k words of flith <333 ꩜ CONTAINS . . smut, divorcee!kento, reader is described as slutty, age gap (reader is in her early twenties and kento is in his late thirties), sexual frustration, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, pussy slapping, spanking, rough sex, biting, spitting, they're kind of drunk, choking, bruising, pussy drunk!kento ꩜ AUTHOR'S NOTE . . kento's balls practically shriveled during his sexless marriage so best believe he's gonna enjoy himself!!

Nanami Kento had it all.

A two-story house in the suburbs, a high-paying job, a beautiful wife—he had the perfect life. And damn did he hate every second of it. He hated waking up in that house to greet his nosy neighbors, hated driving to his soul sucking office job, and especially hated going home to his wife every night. She’d leave him leftovers in the fridge and kiss him goodnight before bed, and Kento would stay up every night wondering how to escape this limbo.

Tonight was the first time he felt free in years. Sitting at some shitty bar he can't remember the name of, he absentmindedly fiddled with his wedding band. Months ago, this little piece of metal meant everything. A loving marriage. A promise of a future. A sign of success. Now? It's just a worn-out ring that he can't throw out.

Kento sighed, setting it down on the table in favor of a glass of whiskey, letting it burn down his throat as he took a sip. He was never a drinker, but maybe it was something he repressed over the years. What else had he missed out on while trying to play Mr. Perfect?

Right, sex.

Kento was so obsessed with a picture perfect life that he even married someone he barely knew. She was pretty and nice enough—boring as fuck now that he thought about it—but that was enough for him to get down on one knee and take her down the aisle. What he didn't take into account was his own needs. All a man needed after a long day of work was some pussy, and he was no different. Mrs. Nanami was beautiful, sure, but one hell of a prude. If he was lucky, he got laid about once a month. Even then, she'd just lay stiff on the bed while he fucked her. If Kento didn't see the rise and fall of her chest, he'd assume he was sleeping with a corpse.

This meant that every night after his wife fell asleep, he'd go to his study to jack off to porn on his computer. It was enough for him to go to bed without a raging hard-on, but only having his hand to rub his cock raw all the time took a toll on him. Kento stopped initiating anything with Mrs. Nanami, opting to go straight online whenever he felt his dick twitch. For years, he lived like this.

Wake up, go to work, get home, say goodnight to wife, jack off.

Until a few months ago when his wife said she wanted a divorce. She must've been expecting him to start a fight, because her face fell when Kento nodded without a second thought. It was a long time coming. Sure, he believed he should've been the one to divorce her, but at least he was gonna be free. The days after she moved out was the happiest he had ever been. Waking up in an empty bed and coming home to an even colder bed filled him with a sense of contentment he thought he'd never feel again.

Cheers to being single, he thought to himself as he ordered another drink. As he waited, he couldn't help but sigh. The ink on his divorce papers hadn't even dried yet and he was already thinking of getting his dick wet. Kento hadn't had good pussy since he was twenty. The thought of cheating never even passed his mind during his marriage, opting the company of his own right hand over breaking the promise he made to his wife. Ex-wife.

He brought the rim of the glass to his lips, eager to drink himself to sleep, until the scraping of a barstool broke his concentration. "Drinking alone, handsome?"

The voice was soft and feminine, making him turn his head in curiosity. It came from a young girl, probably still in college but wearing a tight dress that looked like it came off a stripper. Kento wasn't a boomer by any means, but he still found himself disapproving how there was more skin than fabric on her body.

Kids these days.

Retrieving his gaze, he let out a quiet hmm before turning back to his drink. That didn't deter you, a girlish giggle leaving your lips as you leaned towards him.

"Seriously, there's no way you're here alone. Is this a set up? Where are the hidden cameras?"

College kids were so weird these days. With a scrunch between his brows, he shakes his head as he lets out a low rumble that makes your stomach twist. "Sorry to disappoint, kid. It's just me, no hidden cameras."

When he turns his head to face you, he's surprised at how close you were to him. Kento could smell the vodka shots off your breath. It reminded him of when he was as young as you were, getting drunk off cheap liquor. A soft pink dusted your cheeks, along with a tipsy smile that made his chest warm for some reason. You seemed to catch him staring, reaching out to rest your hand on his bicep.

"You look like...really put together. Like you do your taxes and sleep early or something."

The choked cough he lets out when you touch him makes the whiskey burn up his nose, hand coming up to cover half his face. Just a friendly gesture from a girl made him act like this? Get it together, Kento. Scoffing, he shrugged off your hand as he looked away. You pout as he does so and the sight fills him with regret immediately. Before he can apologize, you knock your head against his shoulder, nuzzling against him like a spoiled kitten. Guilt pools in the pit of Kento's stomach when his cock twitches in his slacks. Not now!

"Do you have a name, handsome mystery man?" you mumble against his shirt, the action making his loins burn. He seriously considers pushing you away but decides you're probably too drunk to function right now. After a few beats pass, he reluctantly grumbles a "Kento" in response. You're quiet save for a soft hum and Kento is left hating himself for getting hard at how clingy you're being.

Poor girl, you're clinging to someone who you think looks dependable in this shady ass bar. Or at least that's what he thinks until you grab his wrist and bring it up to your face. For a moment, he assumes you're trying to get a look at the Rolex around his wrist, the sleek gold glinting in the air. He has to repress a sigh—until he realizes your attention is actually on his hands. Kento's fingers are lengthy from years of typing at his desk everyday, the digits at least twice as thick as yours. Pretty veins run along his knuckles and up his forearms, disappearing under the fabric of his rolled sleeves. You can't help but sigh, eyes flickering up to his with admiration.

"Your hands are like, really...big."

He immediately pulls his hand away with a bewildered look, clicking his tongue as he adjusted the watch around his wrist, ignoring the whine you let out.

"What does that even mean?" he huffs, his fingers twitching at the traces of heat from your delicate hand grabbing his. You giggle at his reaction, slumping against him until your chest presses against his arm.

"I wonder what you can do with them, m'sure you'd know how to use them good."

Oh. Oh. When his gaze connects with your breasts that are almost spilling out the top of your dress and the sultry look in your eyes, only then does he realize that he's being hit on.

"Look, kid. I'm m—" he catches himself before he finishes his sentence. Fuck, was he going to say he was married? The wedding band in his other hand suddenly felt much heavier and he quickly shoves it in his pocket.

"...much older than you, I'm almost twice your age."

Another mellifluous giggle leaves your lips and Kento has to hold himself back from shutting you up so that blood stops rushing to his dick.

"I think you're flirting with me," you tease, rubbing your chest against his arm. If he focuses, he swears he can feel your hardened buds brushing against him through your dress. Not even wearing a bra, you're begging to be fucked. The thought of being the one to take you home tonight passes his mind but he shoves it away. You're drunk and almost half his age, it'd be wrong. All rational thought comes flying out the window when your hot breath fans against his ear.

"But, I also think you're really hot, Kento. So maybe we can..."

Your words fall on deaf ears as his eyes flutter shut and his head tilts back. Kento was never a religious man, but in this moment he prayed to the gods above for clarity. You were offering yourself up to him like a hog on a silver platter, tied up with an apple in your mouth for him to devour. He couldn't help but imagine your glassy eyes rolling into the back of your head, your sweet lips hanging open when he drives his cock deep into your tight and wet cunt—

Fuck it.

Will he ever get another chance to bring a pretty young thing like you home? The thought is what drives him as he grabs your wrist to drag you out the bar and into his car.

When you approached the hot stranger earlier, you sure didn't expect that it'd end with you moaning with his hand between your legs.

Drunk out of your mind, your gaze had fell onto the brooding man at the bar, eyeing his rippling muscles under his crisp blue shirt. Now that was a back you'd love to scratch up. It didn't take long for you to stumble on your too-high heels towards the blonde man. You were never this forward but something about him had you squeezing your thighs together. Maybe it was the silent classiness that screamed luxury, the heat in his eyes that burned every time his gaze lingered on you—or maybe it was how he practically flung you over his shoulder and ran all the red lights to take you home.

But never in a million years had you expected that man to be this nasty.

His lips tasted like heavy liquor, tongue sloppily tangling with yours as he slammed you against the door, one hand coming up to cup your jaw. You were used to bad french kisses from frat boys, all teeth and smelly breath, but the way Kento was devouring you made you lightheaded.

"What a dirty mouth, wonder if you pussy's even wetter."

He pushed your legs apart with his foot and let his hand wander up your inner thigh. You gasp when he finds your mound, panties thoroughly soaked. The scoff that leaves his lips makes your cheeks flush. He cooes as he drag a thick digit along the clothed slit of your cunt, swallowing up your weak moans with his mouth.

"I don't even need to prep you," he chuckles, shaking his head as his thumb prods at your bud hidden beneath your folds.

"You have such a smart cunt, s' already drooling for me."

Kento pulls his hand from between your legs and grabs the back of your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist. Head still spinning from the alcohol, you lose your balance, but the death grip he has keeps you upright as he carries you to his bedroom.

It's scantily decorated and you note that the bed it a bit too big for someone living alone, but you forget all about it when your back hits the plush mattress.

His eyes are wide as if he's trying to commit the sight of you to memory, every exposed sliver of skin and plush flesh permanently burned into his mind. Before you know it, Kento's hands are everywhere—gripping your waist, squeezing your thighs, yanking your dress up like he's unwrapping the first real gift he's ever had. Your slutty dress is long forgotten on his bedroom floor, and fuck, he's hard. Painfully so.

How can't he be when your sweet body is all on display for him?

Kento can't find it in him to give a damn about some dress when all he can see are your perky tits, so soft and malleable. He doesn't spare a moment to admire the view, slapping your breasts till they jiggled deliciously. Before you can whine about how mean he's being, he attacks your tender chest, lips wrapping around the mounds of flesh. It catches you off-guard and you tug at his hair, but he only bites down around your nipple, flicking his tongue over the hardened bud.

"Don't."

His voice is a low growl you never heard before, and damn if it didn't make your clit throb with need. Right on cue, he pries your legs apart and gets on his knees between them, mouth never leaving your breast. The way his hips grind against you is vicious, as if he's been waiting years for this. Which, in a way, he has. Kento has spent too many nights in his cold bed, jerking off to the thought of someone warm beneath him. Now that he has it? Best believe he's not letting you go tonight.

Your heat seeps through the fabric of your underwear and he can tell that you're making a mess all over the front of his slacks, his bulge covered in your slick. Clicking his tongue, he pushes your knees against your chest to come face-to-face with your clothed core. His thumb tugs at the lace of your panties, lifting your hips to slide it over your ass and letting the flimsy fabric dangle on your ankle.

He intended to teach you a lesson, but his brain short-circuits when he sees your weeping cunt. Your chubby lips were glistening with slick from his teasing, that pretty clit hidden under your swollen folds. Kento hasn't had a taste of pussy in years, so he can't resist leaning forward to roll his tongue against your slit.

Immediately he's gone.

He laps at you like a man starved, locking his arms around your thighs to keep you spread open for him. Mrs. Nanami was never this wet for him and it had messed with his confidence for a while, but your sweetness was all it took to bring him back. His cock twitches at the sight of you writhing under him, the front of his slacks now completely stained with precum. Kento nearly forgot to breathe with how absorbed he was in your pussy.

“You're like a piece of candy,” he mouths against your sensitive cunt, pushing the tip of his tongue into your warm entrance. “So sweet, can eat you up all night.”

Your thighs tremble and clamp around his head, the action only pushing him closer against your waiting heat, nose bumping against your clit. Kento moaned as he flattened his warm tongue against you, making out with your cunt with more fervor than when he had kissed you. Eyes rolling into the back of his head, Kento completely forgets about his aching hard-on, hips instinctively rutting against the mattress with every swipe of his tongue. Your lips were so puffy that he couldn't resist biting down, latching his lips onto your neglected bud and sucking hard.

You almost cry out at the sensation, reaching your hand down to pull at his hair as you thrash under him, feeling your thighs quiver. "S'too much! Gonna make me come—"

SMACK.

His palm had landed flat on your cunt.

"None of that. You wanted my attention, now take it."

The mean rumble of his voice along with the harsh slap against your sensitive heat sent you over the edge, coming onto Kento's face as your back arched off the bed. He was more than eager, lips hanging open as he swallowed up every drop of your sweetness.

Like heaven on his tongue.

Your taste was addictive, making him groan with every bob of his Adam's apple. Kento slurps up all the wetness he can get, chin glistening with your essence once he pulls away. The sudden orgasm had you panting, only coming back to your senses when you heard the sound of a belt buckle hitting the floor, lifting your head up at the exact moment Kento tugged his ruined boxers down.

His heavy cock slapped against his sweaty washboard abs, leaking onto his abdomen. You had seen enough subpar dicks in your life to know that he was big, the idea of it stretching you open making your pussy drool. Pretty veins ran along the base, leading up to his thick tip that was already dribbling pearls. It was an angry red, sensitive from rubbing against the fabric of his slacks. You could've sworn his cock twitched when his eyes locked with yours.

He reluctantly rolls on a condom, mumbling something under his breath as he strains against the pink rubber. Should just fuck this pussy raw. Luckily, he still had enough common sense to stop him from begging you to let him go in without protection. Kento grabs your thighs, hefty length dragging down your slit as he positioned himself between your legs. With his cock resting on your mound, you can tell he's gonna be so deep in your tummy that you'll feel him tomorrow.

“I'll make sure of it, pretty girl,” he chuckles, slapping his member against your puffy clit.

Did you actually say that out loud—?

Your cheeks puffed up at his words, an embarassed flush on your face at your little slip-up. He's so heavy between your legs that you wonder how he'll even fit. Kento's hand reaches to pull you flush against him by the ankle, propping your leg up his shoulder, groaning as his cock dragged between your lips.

"You're so wet," he muses, pumping himself lazily before he lined himself up your entrance. "Bet you're gonna take me like a good girl, hmm?"

You gasp when he pushes his flushed cockhead between your swollen folds, struggling past tight rings of muscle. So tight. Fuck, he should've known—you were just a little brat who thought she could handle him. He hisses as your walls clamp down around his tip, nails digging into your hips as he tries to catch his breath.

"Loosen up, sweetheart. You're gonna snap off my dick."

Kento stayed like that, tip twitching inside your warm pussy, before he pushes forward once more. He's bigger than any cock you've taken before. Unprepared for the stretch, your brows knit together when he bullies his way into your cunt. He barely makes it a few inches in before your eyes start to water. Your insides were being stuffed to the brim. You take a deep breath, weakly shaking your head as your thighs tremble.

"K-Kento, please—" Please?

You didn't even know what you were begging for, did you? How cute. With a sigh, he pulls out from the comfort of your pussy. You let out a sigh of relief, before a warm liquid hit your bare lips. With the viscosity dribbling between your folds, you realized that was Kento's spit. Your gaze flickered up towards him but he focused on other things—like the way your clit twitched when his saliva hit the neglected bud. Eyes dark and brows knitted, he reached down to thumb at your sensitive nub, a choked moan leaving your lips.

"Ease up, that's right," he praised, using the wetness to roll his hips forward.

Your walls fluttered around him, your moans egging him on as he continued to feed you more of his monster cock. Kento never needed this amount of prep with Mrs. Nanami, considering she always seemed so...bored. He was even beginning to think he was bad at sex! But the way your eyes rolled into the back of your head told him all he needed to know. A low groan rumbled in his chest when he finally bottomed out, his tip kissing your cervix. After so long with only his hand as company, he worried he'd come the second he was inside you. The way you were squeezing his dick didn't help either. Kento swallowed hard, trying to take deep breaths as he let you adjust to his size.

"How are you so tight?"

When his panting reached your ears, you let out a slurred mumble, eyes unfocused as you tried to look up. He leaned down, forehead resting against yours to regain his composure. Body covering yours, he only buried himself deeper all the way to the hilt. It was like your mind went blank.

"Ngh—you're just too big!" you managed to shout, eyes glassy from how he kept nudging against your womb.

That was all it took for Kento to lose his mind.

Locking an arm around your leg, he fucked into you, heavy balls slapping against your ass as his hips snapped forward. His pace was merciless, knocking the breath out of your lungs with every mean thrust.

"Yeah? How deep am I?" he growled, his grip on your waist bruising.

All the way in my tummy, you try to say, but you were too fucked out to answer. Just a few thrusts had you dumb on his cock, glossy lips hanging open weakly. The sight makes Kento chuckle, holding onto your thighs as his skin smacked against yours.

It had been years since he had been in a pussy this wet and eager for him. He was in love with your cunt. The slickness as he slid past your folds, the way your walls tried to milk him—but the cock drunk look in your eyes was the cherry on top. Kento turns his head to the side, pressing kisses onto your calf as he fucked you.

Come back, pretty girl.

When he notices your lack of response, he sinks his teeth into the soft flesh, emphasized with a harsh thrust that made you scream. "Kento, slow down," you cry out, heat churning in your belly from the cruel pistoning of his hips.

He only chuckles, shaking his head before he sped up his pace. The shocked look in your eyes made him reach down to rub tight circles on your clit for relief. Loud squelches and the slapping of skin-on-skin filled the air, the room reeking of sweat and sex. Kento's eyes locked on the way your ass bounced back against his pelvis with every thrust, cock twitching as he thought of taking you from behind. He continued to jackhammer into you, strings of profanities leaving his lips. You had no idea what you were getting yourself into. As you mumbled incoherently on the verge of tears, a hand wrapped around your throat.

"Shh. Your sweet pussy's talkin' to me," he tuts, squeezing your throat to shut you up.

His hand completely engulfed your neck, rough palm pressed tightly against your pulse. Gasping for breath, you could feel your head spin from the lack of air. You rake your nails along his back, digging crescents into his skin to try and make him let go. Kento hissed at the sensation, cockhead slamming hard against your g-spot. It was too much—the delicious stretch of his cock, the way his tip kissed your gummy insides with every thrust, his hand around your throat—the knot in your stomach snapped. Even when you tried to push the heat down, your climax ripped through you like white lightning.

Your back arched off the bed, cursing out Kento's name as your orgasm shook through your body. The man nearly collapsed on top of you, a sharp groan leaving his lips as your walls clamped down and milked his cock so suddenly. His grip on your throat loosens and you thrash under him.

You might die from how good he's dicking you down.

Rolling onto your stomach, you stumble as you get on your hands and knees to try and crawl off the bed. A pair of rough hands grab onto your waist, followed by heavy panting that makes your blood run cold.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" Kento spits, dragging you back against him.

He'd be damned if he let the first good pussy he's had in years get away. Even when you try to thrash and break free, your body is too weak from coming so hard! His palm lands a harsh smack against your ass, your arms collapsing under your body as you cried out. Kento pushed your head down into the pillows, propping you up by the back of your knees. Face down, ass up. The sight of you so vulnerable with your glistening pussy on display made him lick his lips, quickly positioning himself behind you.

"Naughty girl, trying to run away from me," he tuts, swiping his tip up and down your creamy folds.

As punishment, he reached down to pinch your clit, earning a choked sob from you. He rolled the bud between his fingers, resting his free hand on the plush of your ass. Cock throbbing for release, he buried himself to the hilt in one thrust, setting up a mean pace immediately.

Yep, might die from this dick.

Every slam of his hips against yours had you sobbing into the pillows, the fabric damp with your salty tears. Your body was still reeling from your multiple orgasms, cunt fluttering around him. Even if it was too much, Kento was fucking you so good your insides had molded to every ridge and vein of his cock. Your tits jiggled with every thrust and he wasted no time in grabbing your hefty breasts, playing with your soft nipples. He buried his head in the tender area where your neck and shoulders connected, groaning against you.

Kento was getting close, you could tell from how frantically he rutted into you. His cock throbbed inside you, pulsing against your gummy walls. You couldn't resist the urge to push your ass back into him, making his dick hit even deeper inside you. You were half sure he was bulging through your tummy at this point. The action made him suck in shallow breaths through his teeth, keeping a death grip on your ass as he bulllied your cunt.

"Fuuuck, I'm gonna come," he groans into your shoulder.

His face scrunched up in pleasure, panting heavily into your skin as he buried his cock deeper and deeper. Seeing such a composed man this broken made your cheeks flush. Your walls were heavenly, every clench pushing him closer to the edge.

Screw his hand. Coming from your pussy squeezing him was better that jacking off to any porno he could watch online.

With a strangled moan, Kento shot thick spurts of cum into the condom, as if he hadn't finished in years. He collapsed on top of you, the orgasm rendering him unable to even hold himself up anymore. It was like losing his virginity all over again. You whine as the rubber began to fill up with his load, heavy in your pussy. After a few moments to catch your breath, you tried to push yourself off him, worried he'd spill into you.

"We should probably take that off—"

Kento shut you up immediately, grabbing your waist to drag your hips back on top of him. Now straddling his lap, his still hard cock prodded new places you had never even touched before, a pathetic moan leaving your lips. His blonde hair was messy and dripping with sweat, eyes glazed over as his cheeks flushed. You felt him twitch inside you when he met your gaze, the same fucked-out look in both your eyes. He definitely wasn't done with you yet.

"It's only midnight, sweetheart."

You'd be lucky to come out of here alive.

You spent the rest of the night going several rounds, trying every position possible before collapsing from exhaustion. What's for sure—sex would never be the same ever again. How could you go back to one night stands with shitty frat bros when an older man just gave you the dicking down of your life?

The next morning, you roll on your side to see Kento sitting at the edge of the bed. His bare back was wrecked, littered with vicious nail marks and lipstick stains. You chew on your bottom lip, pulling the duvet over your chest.

"Are we gonna see each other again?" you croak, voice hoarse from last night.

The muscles in his back tensed at your words. Kento didn't want to see the hickeys and bruises on your skin, undeniable marks of the years of frustration he took out on you. He actually slept with a girl almost half his age right after getting divorced.

Talk about issues.

Though his stomach churned with guilt, the memories of last night flashed through his mind. How eager you were for him, your sopping cunt, your sweet whines. He was even starting to imagine what it'd be like to sink into you raw.

He couldn't deny how addicted he was to your body. Doing this once was one thing, but agreeing to meet you again? Kento let out a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. After a few moments, he spoke up.

"Let me check my schedule, pretty girl."

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mw00nie · 1 month ago

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you always knew you had a thing for older men.

It wasn’t just the salt-and-pepper stubble or the slow, practiced way they carried themselves. it was the stillness. the grounded energy. the calm. like nothing could touch them. like they’d been through hell and came back clean, sharper for it.

nanami kento was the embodiment of that.

you weren’t supposed to end up in his bed. it started with drinks after a shared mission, a conversation that lingered longer than expected. you were tipsy. he wasn’t. and yet he watched you like you were a puzzle worth solving. carefully, patiently, without a single wasted glance.

you’d had sex before. enough to know what you liked. enough to know that most guys your age didn’t really care about what that was. they rushed. they fumbled. Some were sweet, but rarely satisfying. even the slightly older ones, 25, 26, still had the attention span of a squirrel and the emotional intelligence of a wet sock.

but nanami?

nanami touched you like he’d studied you. like he had time. like he didn’t need to prove anything because he already knew he could ruin you. and would. he took off your clothes like unwrapping a gift he’d waited patiently to open. every touch was intentional. every kiss a quiet promise.

you thought you were prepared.

you weren’t.

his mouth on your neck, your chest, between your legs. devastating. the kind of slow burn that made you forget your name, arching into him with a gasp so raw you almost felt embarrassed. until you looked up and saw the way he was watching you. focused. like he needed to see what he did to you..

you expected him to be good. he was older, refined, deliberate in everything he did. from the way he sipped his whiskey to the way he looked at you, like he could read every need you hadn’t voiced. But this?

this was beyond anything your imagination had dared to stretch toward.

you're on your back, legs spread and trembling over Nanami’s shoulders, body pinned to the mattress like you were meant to be there. like he built this exact moment out of patience and control and years of knowing exactly what he was doing.

his cock stretches you open with a slow, thick thrust that makes your spine arch off the bed. he’s not fast. not frantic. he moves like a man who knows he doesn’t have to rush, because you’re already falling apart under him.

“good girl,” he murmurs, voice low and steady, as if he’s rewarding you for every helpless sound you make. “you can take it. i’ve got you.”

and you do. you take him. inch by devastating inch. because you can’t not. he fills you in a way no one else ever has. deep. heavy. the kind of depth that forces a raw, gasping whine from your throat with every stroke.

your nails claw weakly at his forearms, the only parts of him you can reach in this position. he’s got you folded open, helpless, a mess of sweat and slick and trembling limbs beneath him. his hips grind slow, controlled, like he’s studying how each angle wrecks you.

“too much?” he asks, and it’s maddening how composed he sounds while you’re unraveling like silk in his hands.

you try to answer, but nothing comes out but a high-pitched, wrecked little moan. your head tilts back. eyes flutter shut. brain static.

he leans in closer, the weight of him pressing into you deliciously, lips grazing your jaw. “words, sweetheart.”

you manage a shaky, whined: “don’t stop. please. don’t stop.”

his lips curve into the faintest smirk against your cheek, and suddenly his thrusts get deeper. not harder. not faster. just…more intentional. perfectly timed to make you feel every ridge, every drag of him against that sensitive spot inside you that makes your thighs shake.

your vision goes blurry. your mouth drops open in a silent gasp. And then it happens: Your brain short-circuits.

everything goes white-hot, your body locking around him with a desperate cry you barely hear. your climax rips through you with a sharp, clenching heat that leaves you breathless and boneless, twitching beneath him as he fucks you through it with devastating care.

“beautiful,” he breathes, watching you crumble.

you’re too far gone to even feel embarrassed at how wrecked you sound. you’re crying a little overstimulated, completely taken, the term “fucked dumb” no longer a meme, but a diagnosis.

he slows down. pulls out just enough to let you breathe, but not leave. his hands slide down your thighs, soothing, grounding.

and then, without warning, he’s back inside you. slower this time. softer. but it still hurts, in the way pleasure hurts when you’ve already come once and your nerves are still singing. you whimper, and he kisses your shoulder.

“i know, i know,” he whispers. “just one more. you can do one more.”

you don't know if you're nodding or crying, but it doesn’t matter. he keeps praising you, guiding you back to that high again with practiced care and relentless control. and when you finally collapse beneath him, thighs shaking, tears wet on your cheeks, he kisses you like you’re something fragile he’s honored to break.

he doesn’t leave right after.

he wraps you in a warm, damp towel and carries you to the bath. cleans you gently. makes you tea. sits beside you as your body catches up with your soul.

and when he says, “you’re safe,” you believe him.

and you realized then: you’d never be able to go back.

how could you? to twenty-something-year-old men who needed validation, who didn’t know what to do with a woman who needed to be held, not just touched? who didn’t understand the ache that came from deeper wounds. wounds that wanted comfort, not conquest?

nanami wasn’t just good in bed.

he understood. he moved with restraint, with precision. the kind of man who didn’t need to be loud to leave a mark.

you looked up at him. his calm, unreadable expression softened only by the way his thumb brushed over your hip. and it hit you:

you weren’t just ruined for boys.

you were recalibrated.

no one else would ever compare.

#jjk #jjk nanami #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu nanami #nanami kento #kento nanami #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen

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mxnstersarereal · 5 months ago

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Tag dump part ii, muses (both the ones I've launched and the ones without bios)

#🌙 tags. | tag dump.#🌙 muse. | run and hide your crazy and start acting like a lady. ( bellatrix )#🌙 muse. | i'm made of stone i won't break. ( stella )#🌙 muse. | if i really wanted to baby i could ruin you ( sariel )#🌙 muse. | i'm a real queen i can make grown men cry ( lyra )#🌙 muse. | i can't hear you i won't fear you. ( kaia )#🌙 muse. | once upon a time i swore i had a heart. ( embla )#🌙 muse. | you said i'm too much to handle. ( erica )#🌙 muse. | i can get them pulling out their fragile teeth. ( wednesday )#🌙 muse. | all your perfectly delivered lines. ( meya )#🌙 muse. | i am disruptive i've been corrupted. ( hamlet )#🌙 muse. | your mind is playing tricks on you my dear. ( esme )#🌙 muse. | her kiss burns like whiskey her touch trails fire. ( charlie )#🌙 muse. | you'd fall apart cause i'm too expensive. ( rigel )#🌙 muse. | grace is just weakness or so i've been told. ( caspian )#🌙 muse. | i learned it from my mother how to complicate manipulate. ( lily )#🌙 muse. | looking at my history i'm bad at love. ( maeve )#🌙 muse. | i've got loyalty in blood i'll do anything for love. ( paisley )#🌙 muse. | it ain't easy to survive up in these city streets. ( maya )#🌙 muse. | on your knees I got you begging. ( lillith )#🌙 muse. | you should thank your lucky stars I don't like taking it too far. ( dotty )#🌙 muse. | if i really wanted to baby i could ruin you. ( sariel )#🌙 muse. | it's like staring at a burning sun. ( ayanna )#🌙 muse. | i'm a real queen i can make grown men cry. ( lyra )#🌙 muse. | i scream too loud if i speak my mind. ( jessica )

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lxvvie · 7 months ago

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Simon doesn't think he's ever tasted something so good in his fuckin' life before.

He didn't know what he was in for this time when he got back from deployment, and nicotine and whiskey ain't got shit on this. Poor bastard can't remember the last time he had something so good invade his senses like this.

You said you had a treat for him, made him lay down, and promptly sat on his face, and Simon was fuckin' gone. Don't know what the fuck possessed him but he took one whiff and was instantly hooked.

Simon feasted on your cunt like a man starved. Tongue, lips, fingers, you name it. Anything to get his fix, anything to make you moan.

Anything to make you cum.

Didn't let up for shit, not even to breathe, and when you voiced your concern while whimpering and trembling, Simon didn't give a fuck and still continued to love on your pretty cunt because where the bloody fuck are you going?

Shut up. Shut the hell up and let him make you cum, sweetheart.

Actions have consequences. Shouldn't have made him feel so bloody good, shouldn't have poked at the beast, and he'd be damned if he didn't think this was the best post-deployment gift he's ever gotten. Better than the nicotine high or occasional pity wank.

Fuck, it's been so long and he's absolutely disgusting about it.

And Simon's aware of it all, the way his cock is so hard it's bloody painful and leaking in his pants, the way you're grinding on his face, smothering it and fucking his mouth (don't you dare stop, either), and how his everything is consumed by you. You coat his stubble, fill his nostrils up with your scent, his tastebuds are fired up—bloody hell, need he explain more?

Simon could die a happy man right now, and what would his gravestone say? Here Lies Simon Riley, Died Eating Cunt.

He'd chuckle if he wasn't too busy at the moment. Shit, he probably did if the way you're moaning is any indication. That felt good, didn't it, sweetheart?

It's your turn now to say his name like a prayer and believe in him just as he believes in you.

And it's the best fucking thing to ever bless his ears.

Turning Simon Out: Part I and Part II.

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layaispunk · 1 month ago

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needs a good fix

jackson!joel miller x fem!virgin!reader

a/n: this idea is by @yxtkiwiyxt !!! i couldn't stop thinking about it.

summary: you can't stop fantasizing about joel taking your virginity.

warnings: UNPROTECTED P IN V SMUT 18+. competency kink. joel is jackson's handyman, reader has no physical description, dry humping, female masturbation, male masturbation, age gap (reader is over 21), reader is a virgin, praise kink, fingering, grinding, aftercare, soft!joel, lmk if i missed anything!!

wc: 4.7k words

Joel was always fixing things around town.

Ever since Joel Miller showed up in Jackson, folks started calling him the town’s handyman. The way his hands moved, steady and skilled, fixing what needed fixing… he was good. he was good at what he did.

The creak of his boots echoed from the side of the barn as he repaired the gate hinges. A few days ago, it was the broken heater in the art room. Before that, the fencing near the stables. He was the kind of man who did not like to sit still, and Jackson had plenty of things to keep him going. He liked helping around, and it made him feel needed.

You didn’t mean to notice him every single time. Your eyes just naturally averted to him, every time. At first it was small things.. how he always showed up early in the morning. How he talked to people with that low, Texas drawl, with kindness, and sometimes a little grumpy. It was clear he cared deeply about doing things right.

His rolled up sleeves, the grunts he made when he was moving, the way his brow furrowed when he was concentrating … it was all too much. He did everything so well, no neighbor ever complained. Every time you saw him with a tool in his hand, or a smudge of grease on his forearm, something inside you twisted. It started as a quite ache, one you could ignore if you distracted yourself enough. But the more you saw him, the worse it got.

And you… you were a virgin. Growing up in the apocalypse and all, you never really had the chance to get to know someone that intimately, besides, you were very comfortable with your own sexuality, taking care of yourself, and you were quite satisfied. Boys had thrown themselves at you before, but you weren’t into guys your age, immature and inexperienced. You always liked them a bit older, more experienced. You had a thing for competency, and men like him who were good at what they did. blue collar, broad-shouldered, good with their hands. Men who smelled like whiskey, sweat, and knew how to fix shit other people couldn’t. Joel, with that salt and pepper hair and his worn button-ups, the way he moved, was turning you on. You couldn’t look at him without your breath catching and sweat clinging to your forehead, without heat crawling low in your belly. You couldn’t stop thinking about your first time being with him, how protective he’d be, and how good he’d take care of you.

You didn’t live super close to him, but the universe clearly had other plans, because somehow your errands aligned with where he happened to be. And always, he’d greet you.

Just a “hey”. Simple, and casual. Too casual for the way heat pooled between your legs every single time. You try to keep it cool, offer a quick smile, or a nod, but your words never come out the way you want them. If he had any idea how tightly you had to clench your jaw every time he walked by, he sure as hell didn’t show it.

He had no idea what he was doing to you. As far as Joel was concerned, you were just another friendly face in town. You were kind to him, sweet even, traded coffee for paint supplies, but you never stayed long enough to hold a conversation. Joel figured maybe he made you didn’t like him, that you, maybe you just weren’t the talkative type.

He usually worn button-ups, long sleeves rolled up. But with the seasons shifting and the sun hanging higher, he was showing up in tight t-shirts that left little to the imagination. The fabric hugged his arms just right, tracing every muscle and vein, and it was impossible to imagine what those hands could do if they weren’t busy fixing shit. One time, he reached to grab something from a top cabinet, and with his arms stretched high, you caught a perfect glimpse of his waist. The way his shirt rode up just enough to reveal his happy trail leading down, and the waistband of his boxers. It made you feral.

Every night, you thought about him. What his huge hands might feel like. What his calloused fingers would feel like on your body. How his grunts might sound like if he was on top of you, whispering something low and filthy in your ear. Late at night, you let your thoughts slip where they shouldn’t. Under the covers, imagining what it would feel like to have someone there- Joel, instead of your own fingers, moaning and whimpering his name, hoping one day he would just magically show up and fuck you senseless.

One afternoon, you told yourself you weren’t going to do anything stupid. But it was a hot spring evening, you had two glasses of wine, maybe three, and it was just enough to make you feel courageous. Or reckless. Tipsy, that made your skin feel too hot, your clothes too tight, and your underwear soaked. You didn’t let yourself think it through. You just walked down the street, heart pounding and thighs pressed tight, wearing a top that accentuated your breasts & an old fashioned lie. and knocked on Joel’s door. You told yourself it was innocent. A neighborly thing.

He answered the door in a t-shirt. Collar a little stretched, fabric clinging to his biceps. You had to force your eyes to stay on his face.

“Hey,” you said, a little breathier than what you meant. “S-Sorry to bug you. I just-uh… my sink’s acting real funny. The one in the kitchen.”

The kitchen sink was fine.

Joel wiped his hands on the towel slung over his shoulder. “What’s it doin’?”

You shrugged, toying with the straps of your shirt. “Leaking. Making a sound. I dunno.” you said nervously.

“I can swing by tomorrow,” he said, nodding.

You licked your lips. “I’ll uh…. I’ll leave the door unlocked. In case I’m out. So you just let yourself in.”

Joel’s brow ticked. “You leavin’ your door open for just anyone, darlin’?”

Your heart stuttered. Was he flirting with you? “Uh… no, no.”

He smiled, “I’m just jokin’.” He clapped his hands. “Alright then, I’ll uh.. see ya tomorrow.”

Before you could respond, you turned around and walked back home, your heart about to rip open your chest.

The next day crept up slowly. You woke up flushed, replaying yesterday’s interaction in your mind like a dream.

You told yourself not to get too worked up. Not to overthink it. But by mid-afternoon, you were restless. The house felt too warm, your skin even warmer. You kept checking the clock, hoping his knock might come any second.

And when it didn’t, you grabbed the wine bottle. To cool you down, ofcourse. To calm your nerves. You’d left the door unlocked like you promised him. Just a crack, enough for him to step inside. The kitchen sink was fine. Didn’t need any fixing. But your body…? That was another matter.

You wandered upstairs to your room, still leaving the door cracked, restless and a little tipsy from the wine. The fan hummed softly overhead, but it did nothing to cool the heat spreading low in your belly. Your clothes clung to you, damp from the warmth… and your wetness. You ran your hands down the front of your thighs, exhaling a shaky breath as your fingers hooked into the waistband of your shorts. They felt suffocating. You slid them down your legs slowly, the cotton catching slightly on your hips before pooling around your ankles. The air kissed your skin, and you bit the inside of your cheek, goosebumps rising on your legs.

You sat at the edge of the bed at first, on your back. Your head tilted back, eyes fluttering shit. You couldn’t stop thinking about him. The way his biceps flexed. His Texas drawl dipped in honey. The way he said your name.

Your hand drifted over your stomach, skimming lightly, like even your own touch was too much. You didn’t rush, just let your fingertips trace lazy, aimless patterns, dipping lower each time until they reached the waistband of your underwear. There was a steady warmth pulsing at your core, a heat that had been building all day. You let your fingers press down, through the thin fabric, catching your breath at the feeling. You were already so sensitive, so wound up from hours of wanting, of imagining him. You were pretending your hands were his, touching you like this for the first time. You shifted against the sheets, chasing friction, letting your hips tilt just enough to press into your own hand. It was slow at first, knowing your body too damn well, until you started to rub your clit in small circles and gasping softly, your mouth falling open.

Joel told himself he’d swing by later in the afternoon, but something about the way you looked at him yesterday.. the wine flush on your cheeks, the way your fingers played with your shirt straps… He was confused. He was old. Surely, he didn’t think you were flirting with him. Why would someone so pretty, want someone like him?

The door was exactly as you left it. Unlocked, cracked open a little bit. He still knocked softly at first.

“Hey,” he called, voice low. “it’s Joel, you home?”

No answer.

So he stepped inside, slow and polite, calling your name softly. And suddenly, he heard it. Faint and breathless.

“Joel.. Oh..”

His heart jumped. You sounded like you were in pain, or crying. The sound of your voice had him moving before he could think. He dropped his tools, boots thudding against the stairs, every protective instinct in him lighting up. Another soft moan. “Oh God...”

He didn’t wait. “Darlin,? You alright?” He pushed the door open with his shoulder, chest tight, eyes scanning …. Until he saw you. laying back against the sheets, legs spread, hand between your thighs. Your shorts discarded on the floor.

You froze.

Joel froze too.

He wasn't dumb. He caught on what was happening immediately.

His mouth parted like he wanted to speak, but no words came out. His eyes were wide, locked on yours. Neither of you spoke for a moment, the silence was thick.

You sat up in panic, putting your shorts back on. “I-I thought you weren’t coming,” you whispered.

He looked dazed. He swallowed hard. Took one step closer.

“You left the door open,” he said quietly. “Said I could come in.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think—” You whispered, embarrassment creeping up your cheeks. “Joel, I didn’t think you’d—”

He nodded once, firm, eyes still on you. “You say my name like that all the time when you’re alone?”

You couldn’t speak.

He took another step. “I came to fix the sink, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice thick with something rough and warm, “but I think we’ve got somethin’ else that needs my attention.” You swallowed hard, heart hammering like it might break through your ribs.

Your fingers were still trembling from earlier. From the way you’d whispered his name like a fucking prayer. And now he was here. Real. Solid. Broad shoulders taking up half the space in the room.

You felt small. Exposed. And yet… your body ached for him.

Joel’s eyes dragged down your frame, slow and deliberate. His jaw ticked.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed,” he said, voice low. “I just… didn’t know you… felt that way about me.” He swallowed. “I wasn’t supposed to see that.”

Your back straightened, chest still heaving. “Well, I do.” You blinked. “Joel, you should probably just go,” you stammered, voice shaky. You started rambling under your breath, words tumbling over each other like a flood. “I’m so dumb. I’m sorry, Joel. The sink doesn’t even need fixing. I mean, what was I thinking? I just wanted to see you, like some fuckass teenager with a crush. You don’t even like me like that.” You stared at the floor, too embarrassed to meet his eyes, heart pounding loud in your ears.

Joel shifted awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “Darlin’, calm down. I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” he said, eyes soft. “I… like you, I’m just surprised,’s all,”

You opened your mouth, words caught in your throat. “I had too much wine. I just need a minute, okay? I’m overwhelmed”

He nodded, stepping back. “Alright, I’ll head home, okay?” His voice was low, unsure, like he wasn’t quite sure on how to act after that, and neither did you. He slipped quietly without another word. Did you just fuck everything up?

The next day, there was a knock on your door.

Joel stood there, hand on the back of his head. “Hey,” he said quietly. “Can I…come in for a sec?”

You smiled and stepped aside, still mortified from yesterday.

He glanced around like he was gathering his thoughts, then finally looked at you. “I been thinkin’ about what happened yesterday.”

You blinked at him, cheeks heating up. Talk about the elephant in the room. “What do you mean?”

Joel let out a slow breath. “I wanted to apologize. You were embarrassed. Thought I didn’t… want you like that.”

You looked away, heat crawling up your neck.

He continued, gently, “I didn’t mean to walk in on somethin’ so personal. I swear, I only came in ’cause I thought you were hurt. You sounded like you were in pain, and the door was open, and.. I’m sorry.”

You chewed your lip. “Joel, you don’t need to apologize. It’s not your fault, I should have closed the door.” You sighed. “I didn’t mean to make things weird”

“Nothing’s weird,” he said. “I just.. Jesus, I had no idea you felt that way about me. And I’m still tryin’ to wrap my head around it, ‘cause you’re…” he trailed off, eyes on yours, voice soft. “You’re beautiful, and young. I don’t know how in the world you would want someone like me.”

You stared at him. Your heart was thudding in your chest, heat creeping up your neck, wanting to tell him that you’re a virgin and just blurting it out. “I’ve never… had sex.” Your voice barely carried, but it felt like the loudest thing in the room. “I just wanted you to know.” You paused, cheeks burning, then forced the next part out. “I guess... I’ve been thinking about it a lot. I just want to get it over with, with someone more experienced, you know. To know what it feels like. So, um. That’s what I was thinking about. It’s okay if you don’t want to.”

Joel blinked, his gaze holding yours, unreadable for a second. His eyes dropped for a second, then came back to yours, voice rough, blurting out a confession himself too. “I thought about you too, last night.”

You blinked, confused. “what?”

His breath hitched. A humorless little laugh left him as he shook his head. “Couldn’t get the image outta my head. We’re even now. Ain’t gotta be embarrassed.”

You tilted your head, searching his face. “are you just saying that to make me feel better?”

His voice was low, thick with something darker, more vulnerable. “No.”

Your breath caught.

He didn’t move. So you kissed him.

When Joel kissed you back, it was desperate. His hands gripped your waist, rough palms dragging over your back like he was trying to memorize the feel of you. Your fingers tangled in his soft curls at the back of his head, tugging him closer, swallowing the low groan he let out when you parted your lips for him. You whimpered softly into his mouth, pressing your chest to his, needing him even closer. He smelled so good. Like whiskey, and soap, and musk. It invaded your senses, and your brain turned into mush.

His tongue swept over yours before he broke away to kiss along your jaw, then your neck, open mouthed and breathless.

“Joel…” you moaned, “Fuck,”

Your knees hit the back of the couch, and the two of you stumbled, breathless and tangled in each other until you fell on top of his lap. His arms wrapped around your waist, and he sank back onto the couch, pulling you down with him. Your legs were straddling him, your hands braced around his neck. Kissing you deeper, his hands roamed your back, your waist, your thighs, like he was trying to touch every part of you all at once.

You rocked against him as he groaned into your mouth, hips bucking up just slightly. His mouth found your neck once again as you kept moving against him achingly, feeling the thick press of his erection beneath you, hard and growing. You were so turned on it hurt.

“Shit,” Joel rasped, gripping your hips, trying to hold you still. “Baby…”

You didn’t stop. Couldn’t. You needed him. But his hands stilled you.

He leaned his forehead against yours, kissing your head, chest rising and falling under your palms. “Sweetheart,” he said, voice low and steady now, “we gotta slow down.”

You blinked at him with doe eyes, lips still parted. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, no,” he said quickly, cupping your cheek. “God, no.” He swallowed, eyes on yours. “It’s just… it’s been a long time. And I want this to be good for you.”

He smiled, brushing your hair behind your ear. “You really want this?” he asked, voice quiet.

You leaned in, lips brushing his, barely above a whisper, “Yeah. I do.”

His chest rose and fell against yours, his eyes flickering down to your lips before dragging back up again like he was trying to memorize you.

He leaned in and kissed you softly, slow and unhurried, letting it linger, letting your fingers drift up the back of his neck and into his hair. He exhaled into your mouth, and you felt the way his hands gripped you just a little tighter.

Then, without a word, you reached down and tugged gently at the hem of his shirt.

Joel paused, eyes searching yours. But he didn’t stop you.

You lifted the fabric slowly, revealing the scarred, strong lines of his chest. Your fingers brushed over his skin as you pulled the shirt over his head and let it fall somewhere behind the couch.

His breath hitched when you leaned down and pressed a kiss to his chest, soft and reverent. Another to his collarbone. Another just above his heart. He wasn’t used to this.

Joel’s eyes fluttered closed for a second, a hand coming up to hold the back of your head like he didn’t know what he’d done to deserve this.

You sat up, heart pounding, and slowly reached for your own shirt. You watched his face as you peeled it over your head. his eyes widened slightly, lips parting, awe written all over him like you were a dream came true.

You took his hands and placed them on your waist, his palms warm and steady. Then you leaned in again, and he kissed you hard, lips sliding to your jaw, down your neck. When his mouth finally reached your chest, your breath caught. he was kissing you there, slow and gentle, like he was learning the shape of your breasts with his mouth.

A soft moan escaped you, hips shifting instinctively in his lap. You felt the heat building again, sharp and overwhelming. Every place he touched felt like it burned.

“Joel,” you whispered, voice breathless, “need you to touch me…”

One of his hands slid down slowly, carefully, finding the edge of your waistband. His fingers brushed your skin, teasing, and you gasped softly. You could feel the heat between your thighs, a growing ache that had only sharpened since the moment he walked through your door.

“I’ve never-” you whispered, barely audible.

“I know,” he murmured. “I’ll take care of you. We don’t gotta rush a damn thing, sweetheart.”

You nodded, heart pounding, eyes locked with his.

“Jesus,” he rasped, resting his forehead against your chest for a second. “You tell me if anything don’t feel right. Any second. You hear me?”

You nodded again, lips brushing against his temple. “Yeah.”

He leaned back just enough to kiss you again, slower this time like you were something delicate, hands trailing up your spine. You arched slightly as you were dry humping on the couch, gasping at the friction between your core and his erection. You stood up, and discarded your shorts on the floor, just your soaked panties covering you. When you lowered down on his lap again, your fingers found his, guiding his hand between your thighs.

“You can touch me,” you said quietly. “I want you to.”

Joel let out a quiet groan. “You tell me if it feels too much, alright?” he groaned, voice low and full of heat.

His fingers dipped down between your thighs, finding you through the soft fabric of your underwear. He rubbed slow, careful circles against you, patient and steady, coaxing every sound out of your lips.

You gasped softly, hips tilting toward his hand without meaning to. “Joel…”

“That feel good?” he rasped, lips brushing your jaw, his voice rough but gentle, making sure you were okay.

You nodded, too breathless to speak. Your fingers curled into his hair, holding on as he kept rubbing you through the thin cotton, your arousal soaking through. He could feel how wet you were, even like this.

“Jesus, baby…” he breathed, his voice thick. “You’re already so worked up for me.”

You whimpered as your hips began moving on their own, grinding against the heel of his hand. Joel’s breath caught, he was getting worked up too, chest rising fast, jaw clenched. His free hand slid up your back, gripping your waist like he needed something to hold onto.

He groaned again, almost like it hurt. “You keep movin’ like that, sweetheart, and I’m gonna cum in my pants.”

Carefully, he slid his hand beneath your waistband, fingers finally touching you bare. You gasped, the heat of his skin against yours sending a shiver up your spine. Then, ever so gently, he slid one thick finger inside you, slow and deliberate.

“Shhh,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple as you clenched around him. “You’re alright. Atta girl. Just like that,”

You whimpered again, his finger moving in slow strokes, your hips rocking toward his hand instinctively. He added a second finger, easing you open while his thumb stroked soft circles against your clit.

It was overwhelming, in the best way possible. The stretch, the warmth of him, the way he watched your every reaction like he couldn’t look away. This was so different compared to your own fingers. You knew it would feel good, but not like this. Definitely not like this.

You whimpered, getting closer, reaching the climax as your hips stuttered against his hand. Joel was whispering quiet praises into your skin, fingers moving slow and steady inside you, coaxing you open like he had all the time in the world. Your thighs trembled, your body arching into his touch, and the pressure inside you built with every breathless second.

“Joel,” you whimpered, voice breaking, eyes squeezing shut. “Oh, my god…”

“Right there?” he murmured, lips brushing your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “You’re doin’ so good, baby. Just let go for me.”

Your body tightened, back arching, and then the wave came over you. your climax washing over you all at once, sharp and warm, overwhelming and dizzying. You gasped, clinging to him, your hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt as you cried out his name.

Joel groaned, holding you through it, kissing your temple and whispering sweet nothings as your body shook against him.

“That’s it,” he whispered, slowing his fingers as you came down. “You’re alright. I got you.”

You were breathless, body still burning for him, for something more. “Joel… I want to feel you.”

He stilled, lifting his head to meet your eyes. “Are you sure?”

You nodded, fingers curled around his wrist. “I want you inside me.”

His gaze searched yours for any flicker of doubt. There wasn’t any. Just need.

He gently guided you off his lap, helping you lie back along the couch. The cushions dipped under you, the living room warm and quiet except for the sound of your shared breathing.

Joel stood for a moment, just looking at you. Then his hands went to his belt, undoing it slowly, his eyes never leaving yours.

You watched as he slid his jeans down, then his boxers, breath catching when you caught sight of him, thick, hard, and flushed at the tip. He knelt between your legs, bracing a hand on the couch beside your head, the other guiding himself gently as he settled over you.

You reached for him, touching his chest, then his face, grounding yourself in the heat of his body.

Joel hovered over you, breathing heavy, gaze locked on yours like he didn’t want to miss a single second. He lined himself up slowly, hand cupping the back of your head against the couch cushion like you were something precious.

When he pushed in slow, careful, giving you time to adjust, you both gasped. Your fingers clutched at his back, nails digging in, and Joel groaned low in his throat, his face buried in the crook of your neck.

Oh my god.

Your thoughts spiraled.

This feels so good.

It was everything you hadn’t let yourself imagine. full, warm, overwhelming in the best way. You couldn’t believe how right it felt, how gentle he was, how every slow thrust was lined with care and need.

This. This is why you waited for someone like him. For Joel.

His body pressed flush against yours, one hand bracing by your head, the other still gently cradling it like he couldn’t bear the thought of hurting you. He rocked into you with slow, deliberate rolls of his hips, his breath ragged against your cheek, whispering your name like a prayer.

“Goddamn,” he groaned. “Such a good girl.”

You whimpered, already fluttering around him, your body starting to tremble again. “I-I think I’m close again,” you whispered, voice breaking.

“Me too, baby,” he murmured, voice cracking as he started to move faster, hips snapping a little deeper now, rougher but still so tender it made your chest ache.

Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, lips brushing his jaw as your body built toward the edge again. He kept whispering to you, grounding you, worshiping you through every second until everything tightened, and then you broke for the second time.

You came with a cry against his skin, body shaking around him as he groaned loudly, hips stuttering.

“Shit-darlin’, I’m gonna,” Joel gasped, and then you felt him follow, his body trembling with the force of it, buried deep and breathless. It was intense.

Joel was still above you, calming down his breathing, foreheads pressed together, your bodies tangled and slick with heat. His hand was still cradling your head.

You could still feel the aftershocks in your thighs, your chest, the gentle tremble in your fingers. Your heart was hammering. You’ve had orgasms before. You touched yourself often. But this was something else. You’ve never had this kind of orgasm before. Every careful touch, every word, every look… he'd made you feel safe. Worshipped. Taken care of.

You blinked up at him through the haze, and he looked down at you like he was in awe.

“You alright?” he murmured.

You nodded, dazed. “Mmmm.”

He exhaled softly, lips brushing your temple, and kissed it. Then your cheek. Then your mouth…slow, like he had all the time in the world now.

“Let’s get you upstairs,” he said against your lips.

You didn’t protest when he gently pulled out, made quick work of cleaning you up as best he could with trembling hands and soft apologies, finding a blanket from your couch to wrap you in.

Then, like it was nothing,he lifted you into his arms. You curled against him instinctively, head tucked beneath his chin, listening to the steady beat of his heart as he carried you upstairs like you weighed nothing.

Your bedroom was dim, bed undone, but it didn’t matter. Joel set you down carefully, then climbed in beside you without a word. One of his arms slid beneath your head, pulling you close, his other hand resting lightly on your stomach beneath the blanket.

You sighed, melting into him.

For a while, neither of you said a thing. Just breathing. Just feeling. His thumb traced lazy little circles against your skin, and you let your eyes drift shut.

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