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ferrstappen · 1 month

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SLUT! l MV1 imagine

a/n: hey! I’m alive, I hope some of you are alive as well and willing to read something 💘 this is short and just a random idea I had before diving into writing some longer pieces with more plot, but I really hope you like it and as you know, feedback is very very welcome!!! Also I’m sorry if it’s weird or any mistakes bc I wrote this on my phone 💘

Summary: this isn’t your first time being a WAG, but people don’t seem to like the idea of you ending your relationship with Joe Burrow and falling in love with Max.

Looking around, you could tell that this wasn't an ordinary place. The sound of engines revving, the vivid colors of various vehicles, and the hustle and bustle of multiple teams, engineers, sponsors, drivers, and fans walking around the paddock all added to the excitement. It was a truly remarkable sight to behold. The energy was palpable, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of awe taking it all in.

In your previous relationship, your boyfriend would make grand entrances at the stadium, sporting his fancy Cartier sunglasses and jamming to his favorite tunes. He wouldn't pay much attention to the photographers snapping away as he strolled past them, and you'd catch a glimpse of him from afar in a lavish suite. That was quite a contrast to your current situation, which you're still adjusting to.

You were greeted by a well-dressed individual who was sporting the logos of Red Bull, Oracle, and Honda all over their outfit. They handed you a VIP all-access paddock pass which had your name and headshot printed on it, along with details of whose guest you were. To top it off, they also put a Red Bull credential on your wrist. The assistant then guided you towards the power station, where you were hopping to finally catch Max after weeks of not seeing each other.

You never meant to be in this position. You were in a happy, stable, loving relationship, truly. But last year one night in Las Vegas, your boyfriend, Joe, was invited to the Las Vegas Grand Prix, and of course, you both attended, curious and excited about the event. Neither of you knew it would be the beginning of the end.

Your first meeting with Max was captured on camera.

Max and Joe, the reigning Formula 1 champion and the Cincinnati Bengals quarterback together was gold content for the Red Bull socials, and there you were in the back, knowing your place smiling at the interaction, but when you were least expecting it, the champion stretched his hand and introduced himself, catching you and your boyfriend off guard.

As soon as he spoke, I noticed his friendly yet polite tone. "Hi, I'm Max," he introduced himself with a warm smile. His simple gesture of introducing himself made him instantly likable and set him apart from the others in the crowd.

“Hi Max, I’m (y/n). Thanks for the invitation,” you shook the hand that wasn’t holding a can of Red Bull.

“Right. Max, this is my girlfriend. She’s the happiest here because she’s a Red Bull addict,” Joe added, earning a soft laugh from you and a smile from Max.

“Then you came to the right place, (y/n). The mini fridges are all yours, and I’m pretty sure the ones on the second floor have limited editions,”

You thought that was all you were going to see of him, barely catching him after his win to congratulate him, but oh were you wrong, seeing him with a warm gray pull-up hoodie and styled blond hair, sipping gin and tonic and waving his hand as people chanted his name to the tune of a song.

Tu Tu Du Du, Max Verstappen

Or something along those lines.

The moment he recognized you, a sudden rush of excitement and anticipation sent a buzz through your stomach that was impossible to ignore. You felt a mixture of nervousness and elation as he leaned in for a short cheek kiss, the scent of gin lingering on your nose as you briefly noticed the small mole on his upper lip. Despite the presence of your boyfriend standing behind you, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of emotions inside.

“I heard you ransacked the energy station,” A drunk Max Verstappen told you.

“What do you mean?” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and at the same time you felt Joe’s arms tight around your waist.

“There weren't any Red Bulls left on the building after you left, maybe I'll have to send a PR package your way,” Max slurred, taking a new sip from his gin and tonic glass.

You couldn’t answer because Joe was faster: “we’ll sure enjoy that, thank you. Wanna go mingle, babe?”

That was almost five months ago as you made your way in sunny Melbourne, doing your best to avoid prying eyes who were aware of the events that took place last November and how you left Joe Burrow the quarterback for Max Verstappen the racing driver.

But it’s not like you wanted to.

After the first box full of sugar free Red Bull arrived with a note, you left a message on his Instagram before posting a story, tagging him and the team.

The he started sending silly memes, followed by the description of the Red Bull ingredients written in Arabic while on Abu Dhabi.

In February, things had reached a point where it was impossible to ignore any longer. You knew it was time to end things with Joe, and when you did, it felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. Suddenly, you were free to do as you pleased, to go where you wanted to go. And so, when Max invited you to go to Bahrain for testing, you jumped at the opportunity.

It was on this trip that you experienced your first date with Max. You both had such a great time together, laughing until your stomachs hurt. You tried your best to hold back your wandering eyes, but you couldn't help noticing the adorable mole on his lip. And then, when the night sky had blanketed the Middle East, he leaned in and kissed you, sending shivers down your spine. It was a magical moment that you would never forget.

But the next day, your first day on the track, a random person recognized you and rumors went crazy, name-calling, attacks, fans carrying signs “What happened with #9”, grown men calling you a bitch, a whore, a gold digger, jumping from one dick to another. It was so much that Max decided to send you to his home in Monaco, not even caring if you were there for the first Grand Prix of the season, he just needed you to be okay.

As you walked towards the energy station, the ground beneath your feet felt firm, yet your steps were hesitant and shy. You were not alone, though, as someone from the team was following your every move, as per Max's orders. The team wanted to ensure that you were safe and secure as you made your way towards the Red Bull hospitality. Once you arrived, a collective sigh of relief was released, and you waited patiently for Max to arrive. The anticipation in the air was palpable as everyone eagerly awaited his arrival.

You vividly remember that moment when he finally arrived at the paddock, dressed in his Red Bull shirt, shorts, and cap, looking so handsome and sporty. You couldn't help but rush towards him, feeling a surge of excitement and joy. As you hugged him tightly, he smiled and hummed softly, clearly enjoying your touch and warmth. You noticed that he was trying to register your scent, perhaps to make the moment even more intimate and memorable.

You knew he was about to lean in for a cheek kiss, but something inside you urged you to do something bolder and more passionate. So, without hesitating, you turned around, making sure his larger frame was facing the outside, away from prying eyes. Then, you carefully grabbed his face with both hands, feeling his strong jawline and stubble under your fingers. You looked deeply into his eyes, savoring the moment, before leaning in and kissing his full lips.

The kiss was electrifying and unexpected, taking him by surprise, but he quickly responded with equal passion and tenderness. You felt his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer, as you lost yourself in the blissful moment. It was a moment of pure connection and love, one that you would always treasure in your heart.

Despite being called all sorts of names by people, you refused to let it get to you. You were determined to continue showing your deep admiration and affection for Max, no matter what others thought or said. You believed that your feelings were genuine and authentic, and you were not going to let anyone else's opinion sway you. Despite the challenges and obstacles you faced, your love for Max remained unwavering and waiting to grow bigger.

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joelhoney · 6 months

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#1 girl

pairing: dbf joel miller x afab/sorority sister reader

kenny here... tumblr Blipped me u guys. but i loved this too much to let it waste into nothingness. so here we go again take two using an ancient blog i never even used (from 2016 mind u...) enjoy!

You're too wrapped up in sorority duties to remember somebody's supposed to pick you up and drive you home tonight. One pissed-off Joel, curious conversation, and cowboy hat later, your evening takes an unexpected turn.

warnings: no outbreak au, dbf!joel, self gratuitous age gap (21/51), shy reader w/ some bursts of confidence, blowjob (m receiving), handjob (f receiving), dirty talk, praise, degradation too..., overuse of pet names... must b all

Of all the ways you imagined spending your fifth day of spring break, the last was in your dad’s best friend’s pickup truck with lame rock playing dryly through the console radio. In fact, last is generous—the idea itself had never even been conjured in your head.

The reason why is because you and your dad’s best friend—Mr. Miller—don’t typically interact beyond the confines of dinners, mandatory laughter, and the occasional one-on-one about something like boys in college, or classes in college, or the drive to college. Nothing much had changed when you moved the brief drive away to UT Austin, and between you everything’s remained the same, even now in your senior year.

For instance, a break—summer, spring, winter—would begin with your parents picking you up and shuttling off to the house, and end with an affair of the similar sort. Quickly into your first year, though, you learned to always insist you either leave school late or leave home early for spring break to take advantage of campus parties, especially because your senior year had cemented your shiny new position as President of Alpha Phi.

Any officer position in a sorority already came with a good deal of responsibility, let alone the presidency; and in addition to having recently turned twenty-one, the role required you to exhaust every drop of social battery, every ounce of skill you had at party hosting and alcohol obtaining without the use of a flimsy fake.

The eliminated nerves of using fakes made you much less nervous during parties, which often led to you letting more loose than usual. This party you’re in was thrown by some frat on campus, but this house is your last place of four; first two pregames, then a bar, then here. At some point at the bar your sisters had surprised you with a fun gift for the night, so you’re also wearing a pink sash, onto which rhinestones spelling out #1 Girl have been glued with precision.

Already you’re dizzy, wiping clammy fingers on the stiff cotton of your tight tank top, the curve of your tits spilling over the Alpha Phi logo. It’s small on you, the hem high above your navel and higher above the loose, low hem of your denim shorts. If they fell low enough on your hips, the high arch of your pink thong would’ve shown itself—maybe it did at some point, you’re too loopy to care.

“Oh, no,” you’re saying, but you can barely hear yourself over the rap song playing and everyone singing along, “no, I hate Jäger.” You’re shaking your head at your best friend and Vice President, Lia, who raises two handfuls of the opaque liquid. She shakes her head, sets them down on the table you’re leaning against.

“Lighten up, duuude. We’re taking them to celebrate your first and last spring break as President.”

“Aw, fine,” you muse loudly, giving in. “Only this once.” Out of obligation and genuine gratitude, you allow yourself to stomach your least favorite drink—then another, and another, a bit of each shot dribbling down the column of your throat and stickily onto your chest.

Lia snaps at the red bra strap that peeks out of your tank strap, laughing. “Settle down, Prez.” A partygoer, rowdy as they come, roughly deposits a sweaty cowboy hat onto your head and you yelp in surprise, steadying it. Whoever gave this, I’m keeping it! you holler, laughing as you feed yourself a shot of something your tongue enjoys more.

Absolut crowds the inside of your mouth when you take it back, interrupted only when a hand comes to shake at your shoulder. In your rush to turn, you nearly hit them with your hat.

It’s Cole, a good friend and member of the frat whose house you’re currently getting tipsy in. His eyes are rimmed and the whole air of him smells like weed. He offers one greeting: “Yo.” His eyes slide down to your chest, where your tugged-down tank has exposed a few inches of your red bra’s lacy cups.

“Hey,” you say, the syllable sounding sticky. “Up here, you ass. Jägerbomb?” You offer a smile.

“‘M a’ight. Listen, some…” He shakes his head, like he’s trying to place what he’s here to tell you. Then he nods, having remembered—“Right. Some old guy’s out front asking for you.”

“Asking for me? Old… guy?” Your eyebrows scrunch together, mind foggy. “My dad?” Shit. You’d completely forgotten they’d be picking you up today or tomorrow. Maybe they’d been waiting for hours—it’s one-thirty, the clock on the living room mantel reads.

“Nah, man, not your dad, this guy’s… he’s got a red pickup truck, um, he’s, like, he’s old looking.” He raises a hand above his own head. “Tall.” His voice is drawly with the weed high, but as soon as he said red pickup, you knew exactly who he was talking about. One look at your phone confirms it—five missed calls and a message, 11PM, sent by your dad: Joel’s in the area for work. He’s going out with buddies but can swing by the house to pick you up. I’m giving him your #.

“Fuck.” You blink. “Fuck! I gotta go.”

You never usually have to pack shit to go home, considering the drive isn’t too far. Briefly you consider making a detour to collect things from your sorority house, but you decide to sacrifice the laptop and the few important chargers. So, armed with only your phone, you wrench your way out of the crowd, a few goodbyes thrown in your direction and back.

The front door is open so the partygoers spill onto the front yard, intermittent conversation littering the area. Along the pavement, frat guys’ Civics and and Priuses are parked beside an old looking red pickup truck; leaned against it is—

“Mr. Miller,” you blurt out when you’re closer to him, voice steady (your mind is just as well, shocked back to lucidity from his presence). “I’m sorry. I had no idea you’d be picking me up today—tonight—” You heave a sigh, apologetic, refusing to meet his eyes. “Sorry.”

His arms are crossed over his chest, the sleeves of his button-up rolled up to his elbows. Even from a few feet away you can make out the shape, the lines of muscle on his forearms. He looks tired, moody—more than usual—and your heart pangs with guilt at the idea that you could be the reason behind it. But despite your best—really, your best—efforts, your stomach still swoops the same way it did when you were seventeen and naive, enough to find next-door-neighbor Mr. Miller extremely handsome. Hell, extremely hot.

It didn’t make sense. You’d suspected your little crush would be that—an adolescent, childish thing, evaporating more and more into thin air with every drive made to campus. But he never stopped being handsome, never stopped his corny jokes and the pet names that got you warm every time you visited over break. You had plenty of eye candy on campus, athletes and gamers alike, and yes you’d been picky, but had managed to sleep with a select few—despite all of it, only the remnants of your fantasies of Mr. Miller satiated you when your hand creeps into the apex of your thighs late at night, lust wrangling shame into silence for a few minutes.

You blink and the train of thought is over—the real thing is here, eyebrows set low, mouth frowning.

“Kiddo,” he starts, his voice thin with exhaustion, “look, I’ve done my share of… drinkin’, and that. I get it. But you gotta…” He clicks his tongue, eyes looking your outfit up and down. “You gotta let me know, let your parents know, where you are, and if you’re okay. ‘Cause I really did not want to spend tonight drivin’ from house to bar, to bar to house, feelin’ like I was lookin’ all over Austin for you.”

“I know,” you supply quickly, nodding. Your hands, fidgety, find purchase on the fibres of the silk sash strung along your figure. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Miller. I didn’t check my phone the entire evening, and—”

“It’s okay.” He says, nonchalant, lifting himself off the side of the car to walk to the drivers’ side. Gruffly, he adds, “Car.”

You’re quick to tug the door open, settling yourself on the passenger seat and breathing nervously. Your legs are littered with body glitter, your chest with the tack of Jäger. You spot him outside, his walk slow. He’s annoyed—rightfully so—stopping just shy of the door to pinch at the bridge of his nose, his lips miming a slow exhale. When he finally wrangles himself to sit, it’s quiet for a minute, then another.

“Y’have fun?” He starts the car, thrumming it to life. You nod, then offer a verbal answer—yeah. He nods, wiping a palm over his face. “What were you up to?”

“I, um… I organized a pregame for my sorority.” You toy with the rogue strands of denim of your shorts. “We went to a bar, after… then another… then, well.” You gulp. “Here.” The last question escapes you in a shaky, breathy squeak. “And you?”

“Hah, sure, kid. Had some contractor thing, half an hour from here. Then drinks with a coupl’a buddies from work. Could’ve been home by eleven-thirty,” he says roughly, driving through the still-vibrant streets of campus, “but it’s nearin’ two and I’m on a college campus.” The urge to apologize bubbles at your lips, high in your stomach, but you remain quiet. After a few stretches of dry silence, he asks again. “That party must’ve been real fun for you to leave your old man—and me—on radio silence, wun’nit?”

“Sure,” you manage, stammering. “We were celebrating my sorority presidency.” The dark scenery of Austin blurs past.

“Oh, sorority presidency,” he repeats, both teasing and genuinely curious. “I did hear your dad mention you were in Alpha Phi, s’that right?” You nod. “What’s that, then? Do presidents get cowboy hats?”

Your face grows hot, hands reaching up to clutch at the rim of the hat atop your head. “No, this—somebody put it—it was a joke, Mr. Miller.” A huffy laugh escapes you. “Sorry.”

“Sweetheart,” he says, and you wrench the reminder he’s 51 he’s 51 he’s 51 through your head while he pauses, “‘m drivin’ you around Austin late at night, and I’ve known you for your whole life. How ‘bout we drop the Mr. Miller act, alright?”

“Oh. Okay,” you say. His hands grip the steering wheel firmly, and your eyes wander to his arms, to how he’s basically stuffed into the shirt he’s wearing, big and broad and bulky. His eyes remain focused ahead, so you let yourself indulge a tad bit more—lower, to the material of his jeans. It’s dark in the truck, so you can’t see much, just the flex of his thighs. “Joel.”

“Attagirl.” You chew at the inside of your cheek, already feeling arousal simmering in you, low and dirty. You’re going to soak through this godforsaken thong. “Mind if I make a pit stop?” You shake your head profusely, watch as he pulls into a gas station parking lot. “Want anythin’, girl?”

“N—” your lips form, but you scrap your original answer. “Gum, if they have it.”

“Be damned if they don’t.” He slams the door shut and you watch him enter the store, watch him through the glass panels. He’s so broad. You’d nearly completely forgotten how stupidly you liked him, and now it’s coming, throttling back full-force, especially with the thrilling aspect of it possibly coming to fruition. You are, after all, an adult. And so is he, paying for his shit with a tight-lipped expression, arms crossed again, arms big and—Jesus.

You squeeze your thighs together, willing yourself to get your shit in place when he pulls the door open again, his eyes scanning your seated figure. He tosses you the packet of gum, and you respond with a sweet thank you, Mr. M—Joel, and you fiddle with the packaging as he starts the car again, driving until scenery grows more and more familiar, closer to home.

“By the way,” he says, voice husky with the unuse of not talking for a while. “Think it’s best you spend the night at my house tonight, kid. It’s late. Later than late.” 2:44, the console digital clock reads in blinky red text. “Your parents don't want the door rattlin’ open at this hour, so I’ll let you in the guest room.”

“Oh,” you say. “Sure.”

“D’you have a change of clothes?” He asks, even if he knows you climbed into the seat with nothing but your phone and a cowboy hat. You shake your head and he tsks. “You’re barely covered, sweetheart. Best be careful walkin’ around when the night’s this chilly.”

Barely covered. You think of every possible response, but what leaves your glossed lips is the riskiest: “What do you mean, barely covered?”

You figure if he starts saying shit like what are you insinuatin’, kiddo? You better sleep at yours tonight instead, it’s an easy out—you’re turning the corner onto your street now, and your stomach is boiling with nerves, sticky and anticipatory. “I jus’ mean… it shows a lotta skin.”

“It’s sorority merch, Joel,” you reply, half-amused and half-defensive.

“No, I”—he sighs, like he wants to backtrack what he’s just said—“I know, but… always worth somethin’ to be careful. Might catch a cold with all that leg… all that—you—showin’.” He parks in front of his house, this sizey, homey thing, and your heart flips knowing how familiar this place has been to you your entire life.

“I’m not going to wear winter gear to a spring break frat party.” You’re bolder, suddenly, but even if the statement is, your voice is level, meek, even. Joel nods, as if admitting defeat, and gets out of the car first; you follow, sneakers crunching against the asphalt as you follow him into the house.

“I hope,” he starts when you’re stationed beside him at the door, “I didn’t… offend you. I was jus’ concerned, is all.” Then he’s stoic again, slipping inside, straight to the kitchen to pour you a glass of water. He flicks a yellow light on and you squint when you get there, rubbing at your eyes to prevent them from aching.

You’re still rubbing at them when his gaze drops from your fussed-up hair and askew hat down to the shiny surface of your chest. Your goddamn top leaves him nothing to the imagination, your tits spilling out of it scandalously. The low cut even lets your bra peek through, red and bright and hey, you show up from college wearing these large university shirts and sweatpants—not this, never this. And your shorts, the way they’re really just a fucking belt, starting low on your hips and cut off high above your thighs.

Alpha Phi, the pink text on your white top reads on the left chest area. Right where your tits curve into the top, the slogan is printed: Union hand in hand. God, sororities and their fucking… quotable bullshit. And don’t get him started on the sash, this cutesy, frilly thing he wants to loop around your wrists so he can fuck you over the counter. He knows he can’t—it’s so wrong, so wrong. He’s known your dad for ages.

But you… you're so tempting, a little minx, chirping Mr. Miller all sweet and apologetic, chest out on full display. He blinks when he hears your voice filter through the fog in his head. “—off?”

“What was that, sweetheart?” His eyes meet yours again and he feels a twinge of embarrassment at the way your bashfulness has somewhat melted to give way to the clear amusement on your face. You must’ve spotted the way he ogled you; he wasn’t exactly trying his hardest to be subtle, unfortunately.

“D’you have something I can use to wipe myself off?” You gesture to your sticky collarbone area. “I got Jäger all over myself. Can’t handle the stuff.” You grimace at the memory, and he goes to grab a wet wipe; while waiting, you hoist yourself up onto the counter, bare legs swinging.

Joel turns to toss you the packet of wipes, but his throat dries before he can even call your name out. Your back is to him, and clearly you’re waiting for his return—you’ve busied yourself by sitting on his counter and letting the hot pink lace of your thong rise above the waistline of your shorts. Lord have mercy, he thinks to himself, adjusting his jeans as he walks back over to you.

“Wipes,” he says roughly, not anything else.

You accept the packet and smile shyly. “Can you…” you pause, the implication hovering over both of you, heavy. “Wait for me?” He nods, inviting. Warm. And he watches, inviting but not very warm anymore, the way you wipe over the expanse of your chest, over the curve of your tits, every other part of you dusted in glitter.

“So,” you say again. “Since we’re on first name basis now, Joel, I, um—I hope it’s okay to ask questions.”

“Sounds reasonable. Go for it,” he accepts.

“When’s the last time you went to a party?” Your smile is mischievous.

He chuckles, a huff of air. “...Long, long ago, kid. Back in my day, partyin’ meant beer, maybe a little weed… not that I'm complaining there, you understand.” He nods resolutely. “These days, a quiet home-cooked meal with just the people I really care about… is a party.”

“Wow, what an old guy answer,” you giggle. “Back in youuuur day.” Your raspy, honeyed voice wraps around the your with a teasing lilt.

“Oh, I’m old now, am I?” His stoic demeanor chips away when he laughs. “That makes you what, sweetheart? You’re barely a pup.”

At his words—at the utterance of pup—you roll your eyes and try to shift your seating so your thong doesn’t stick to your folds. “Okay, fine, next.” You’re not even wiping anymore, the material wrung into your fingers, which lay in a fist by your side. “When’s the last time you got shitfaced?”

He gives a grimace of a smile. “Aw… boy, it's been a while.” He comes closer, going from leaning on the opposite drawers to right beside you on the counter. You’re sitting and he’s leaning but still he’s taller, just a bit level. “But there was that one time back in my more adventurous days, when I was younger. A bachelor party wh… well, the details don't really bear talkin’ ‘bout in polite conversation.” He raises his eyebrows. “Why ya askin’ all this? What’s will all the last times?”

“I’m curious, is all.” You smile, leaning back; if his eyes drop just a bit, he’ll see right through your top, maybe even underneath the cup of your bra. “Okay, fine one last… last time.” You giggle, breathy. “When’s the last time you… had sex?”

The air shifts, and Joel clears his throat before chuckling. “S’none of your business, young lady. A gentleman is not raised to kiss and tell.”

“Oh, but he gets shitfaced n’ tells?” You test, pouting and leaning closer toward him so you can quiet your voice. “Come on. I won’t tell anyone I even asked.”

He sighs, contemplating. “Well… it’s been a while.” He gets his fair share of lays, when he goes out to bars with friends or the rare date, but nothing too drastic. It has been a few months. “But you didn’t hear that from me, understood? Now, let’s drop it.”

But you don’t drop it, you brat. “You’re like the born again 40-year-old virgin,” you tease smoothly.

“Try 51, honey,” he grunts out, depositing your dry wipes at the disposal across you. He turns back around, restrained.

“And what, you don’t wanna change that?” No, he thinks—what he wants is to take you over the counter ’til you’re sobbing and sore.

“Hey now, don’t think I don’t think about it sometimes. But I jus’—I don't wanna get involved with no one, even though... Hell, if I met the right person, I might just change my mind. Ain’t that the way it goes?”

“That’s such an antiquated view of sex,” you quip boldly, pressing your arms to your sides. “What happened to just having one good fuck?”

His eyes flicker down then up. “Well, hey. Slow down with the cursin’, sweetheart. And what in the hell makes you think I don’t do that?” He crosses his arms, offering a raised eyebrow and an insufferably smug smile.

“You didn’t necessarily object when I called you a twice-over virgin.”

He chuckles. “There’s more than one way to let it all out, my girl. You don’t have to just go all in to hit the spot.” The thought of him using his own—or some girl’s, actually, hand, throat… to get off, gets you all hot. You want to be that girl. His girl.

“Like how?” You ask, tilting your head to the side.

“Old man like myself probably can’t offer tricks you’ll find… useful.” He grunts, prepares to go upstairs. He reaches over you for the packet of wipes and your proximity urges him to stop, savor the closeness before the rational part of him reminds him you’re his best mate’s daughter.

“Okay, fine,” you say sweetly, voice much quieter—reserved just for the space between you two. “One last, then.”

Mmm, he huffs affirmatively, greenlighting your request. Impatient.

“Since when did old men do that?” You ask, inquisitive, placing emphasis on his self-proclaimed old man title.

“What? Entertain l’il minxes like yourself?” He responds, intending to break your newly-built façade of smugness.

“No,” you respond coolly. “Pack nine inches.” Then you’re clambering off the counter and walking to the stairs. He inhales sharply at the sudden vulgarity of your words, watches every move, every little bounce of your pert ass under the tiny shorts, the wave of your hair, every flex of the ridden-up lace thong against your back.

You turn briefly. “Coming or what?” And then you slip upstairs.

He hears the pad of your footsteps grow quiet and shuts his eyes, letting his composure waver in your absence.

Had he known Harold’s little girl would turn out to be the world’s biggest fucking tease—Jesus Christ. “Lord,” he rasps under his breath, repeating a mantra, holding back the urge to palm himself through his jeans. “Lord, have mercy.” Then he follows you, already spotting something different—the open door at the end of the hall.

His open door. It’s the one that directly mirrors your parents’, a revelation they all had a good laugh at. Sometimes if a matter was so pressing, a well-aimed pebble to the glass window would get Joel’s attention well enough. The lights are flicked on, cool-warm, in his bedroom. You’re in his bedroom.

Or you’re not. He walks in to find no trace of you, save for the scuffed white sneakers by the doorframe. He toes off his own boots and spots the walk-in closet light’s also been flicked on.

“Christ, you’re quick. You’re s’posed to be in the guest room.” He gestures vaguely to the one on the left side of the hall, even if you can’t see him.

“I had to pee. And I needed something to sleep in,” you say politely from inside. He grunts softly to himself at the thought of you undressing in there, the thought of you pulling on something of his.

“Get out of there,” he orders. “I’ll get you somethin’.” Under his breath he mutters, “S’my goddamn closet.”

You chirp okay but he adds anyway: “Hurry, out.”

So you do follow him, even follow the order to hurry, because you’re hasty in your exit, clutching the cowboy hat to your chest. “Sit.” He points to the bed, watches you set the hat next to yourself gingerly. And one last time he asks the Lord for mercy, quietly and in his head, before shutting off every other rational thought that had stopped him tonight.

You follow suit, hat still clutched to your torso, and he slowly comes to stand just in front of you, your face level with the buckle of his leather belt. When you shift he catches sight of the side of your bra, the lace of it. Eyes cast to your bare thighs, you pipe up.

“By the way, Mr. Miller—Joel, I didn’t mean to say any of—I mean, I thought we could talk comfortably about it… that… stuff, but I took it too f—”

“You’re damn fuckin’ right you took it too far.”

He spits it out roughly, harshly. Like he’s scolding you. A zip of shock goes through you—you hadn’t heard him swear so loud before. Maybe he is. “I give you a free ride home at half past one, give you water, give you a place to sleep for the night knowin’ damn well your momma n’ dad would both have killed ya if you stepped foot in that house wearin’ next to nothing. What do I get in return?” He looks down at you, two rough fingers jerking your chin to look up at him.

“I—” you squeak, your voice and confidence betraying you. You’ve soaked through your panties at his sudden switch in behavior. Like you’d broken a dam.

“I get a brat… whorin’ herself out to me like I’m not over twice her age.” He tuts, like he really is disappointed, and your heart almost drops. “I get all these damn questions about sex, like you think I’ll break and fuck you on my kitchen counter.” He was considering it. “All the teasin’, all the skirtin’ around in a thong and a fuckin’…” He shakes your chin. “S’there even anythin’ in that head of yours, honey?”

Your mouth’d been open. You shut it and lick over your lips. “Yeah,” you defend weakly. His hand lowers to stroke at the column of your throat, then to hook under the tight strap of your bra, peeking out under the white of your top. He sidles it back and forth.

“S’this why you asked me all those dumb questions downstairs, huh, sweetheart? ‘Cause you wanted me to pull your top open and fawn over this”—he yanks the hat away, revealing your torso underneath—“little show o’yours?” Your cleavage is sinful, downright—perfect, perky, inviting him to mouth at your tits. Your sash sits prettily above them and he can’t help but pull at it, too, jolting you toward him.

“N—” you inhale sharply, letting him pull and push you around as he pleases. He observes the blinding glittery writing on the pink material and lets out a humorless, self-satisfied huff of laughter.

“Number… one… girl.” His rough thumb grazes over the divots of the rhinestones. “That’s jus’ about right, ain’t it?”

“Yes,” you reply, voice small.

“I’m not sure I agree, baby girl,” he drawls. His touch is precise—he knows exactly where to go, what he’s doing—but rough, dirty, almost, and the huge size of his hands don’t help to support otherwise. He tugs down your tank top so it’s tucked underneath your bra, and you yelp, making a move to cover yourself. He laughs again—“Sure, go all shy on me like you haven’t been showin’ yourself off to me all night. Knees.”

You get off quick, so quick you’re dizzy when you steady yourself on two knees. Two lithe hands make their way to his belt but he steps backward, revels in your evident confusion, clumsiness, the flush high on your cheekbones. “Buckle down, sweetheart.”

“But—”

“No goddamn buts. Listen to me.” He ends up being the one to make work of his belt, and while he talks you have to bite your lip to keep from going slack-jawed at the sight of him. You’d been kidding about the nine inches thing, but Christ he’s huge, strained against the tight denim. He’s thick even under the layers of clothing, and all you want to do is choke on him. “You’re gonna let me use that mouth t’get off, first thing,” he grunts, like this is all some chore to him, “because I am not goin’ to put my cock in my best mate’s daughter.”

“How about,” you croak lightly, “your fingers, then?”

“Jesu—we’ll see.” He tugs his cock out then, and he’s fucking huge, he really is, his tip angry and flushed and being rubbed along your lips, sticking them up with his precum. He sighs contentedly, humming low, the vibration sent straight to your half-open mouth. You suck on the tip of him, watch a slow smile form on his face. “That sash oughta say somethin’ else.”

Your silence grants elaboration. “Number one slut, maybe.” You shift on your thighs, trying to hide how aroused you are at his mean behavior. But he can tell, he can watch the way your blinking slows, the way your eyes glazed over, glassy and teary from trying to take more of him. He doesn’t tell you to slow down, or go faster; he just watches, eyebrows knitted, focused. “Budge up.”

A hand, big and calloused, threads through your hair and gives a tug, goading your mouth open so more of his cock slips past. Your jaw aches from the attempt alone, so you pull off before you start choking too much, tonguing at the parts of him you can’t reach—lower, until you’re laving at his balls. He grunts, pleasured, simmered down. Attagirl. Then you’re back, bobbing up and down, trying despite yourself to take all of him, until your eyes are watery and you’re spluttering, choked.

“Now this is…” He says, and it comes out in a contented little sigh, “a number one throat. Keep those pretty lips open, honey, ‘m gonna fuck them.”

You do, your achy jaw slacked as he begins bucking into your mouth, the sounds of your choking only spurring him on. He’s dominant, taking and taking, and you’re humiliated to find how wet you are, soaked through the lace of your thong and darkening the denim of your shorts. The tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat only gets him to thrust even faster, watching tears fall from your eyes, streaky with mascara. His best friend’s daughter, taking dick like a fucking champ.

He thrusts harder, each sound emitting a nasty, incoherent noise out of you, choked little gasps that have him harder each time. Gonna fuck this throat raw, he mutters. Since that’s what you wan’ed, ain’t it? You reach up, light fingers massaging his balls, and then his hips stutter, and with barely any warning, you feel his hot seed shoot into your throat, little satisfied groans leaving the man above you.

You swallow what you can, limited by his dick still in your mouth. When he pulls out you lap at the cum left behind, circle your tongue around your lips, make a whole show of it. You speak again, your voice raspy and spent: “Please, my turn?”

He lifts you up and smirks at the way you yelp in surprise, tossing you onto the bed and pulling you back onto your knees, your back to his chest. He wrangles your shorts off, gives your ass a smack as he pulls them down, enough to expose what’s underneath. The stiff material gathers just above your bent knees, restraining you from moving much.

“D’you know what,” he says, still sounding angry—like he’s lecturing you, stern, “I could’ve been in bed, wakin’ up at six to work… instead I gotta teach this little brat a fuckin’ lesson. Your old man not teach y’enough manners?” He tugs your bra down, thumbs roughly at your pebbled nipples, wrenching a moan out of you. He’s hard again, dick poking into your ass, and fuck you want him in you.

“He didn’t,” you sniffle, pitiful. “Y’gotta teach me, Daddy.”

“Oh, she likes that, don’t she?” He grumbles, like the title is annoying, juvenile. The way his cock twitches tells you otherwise. “Shut up, baby honey. I got this.” He reaches up your thighs and the ticklish, pleasurable sensation gets you hot.

Joel, you whimper, seizing in on yourself. He grabs your other arm, pulls it back toward him so you remain open and pliant. Please, wait.

“No time for waitin’, not when you spend hours prancin’ around like a little whore, sweetheart.” Without preamble, he’s running his fingers up your thighs again, not stopping this time until his fingers are pressing into your clit, rubbing over the thin, soaked fabric of your panties. “And you’re so fucking wet for me. My number one girl, ain’t you?”

“Yea,” you babble dumbly. “Your number one girl.”

“Thaaat’s right. My girl needs her needy cunt filled up, don’t she? By Daddy’s fat fingers.” You nod along, drawn in by the vulgarity of his words, the way he spits them out. You’ve spent several nights fantasizing how his big, rough hands would feel on you—and you’ve been outproven. He’s so fast, so skilled with his fingers; they feel delicious in you. And you can’t stop thinking about all of those girls he implied he’s slept with, the way they probably got to this first. Lucky bitches.

He’s gotten you so wet the entire night, even moreso now, that your pussy is making obscene squelching noises with each pump of his fingers, these nastily loud noises that humiliate you, that turn you on even more, that make you drip all onto Joel’s linen sheets. Fuck, you whimper. He swats at your ass. No swearing, he’s saying.

“Look up for me, honey. Up at the window.” Outside, the sun’s beginning to crawl over Austin, just the faint blues and yellows of early morning. You realize you know this because his curtain’s been pulled open—by him, earlier, before any of this even started, you assume. And the only other thing you can see other than the sky and the sliver of the neighborhood is your parents’ window.

“No,” you plead, looking down. He doesn’t let you, tugs you back up to look by your hair. He knows your parents won’t be up ’til seven-thirty latest. But you don’t know that, and for now, you don’t have to.

“What then, huh, sweetheart? When they go to check on the weather n’ they see their best friend poundin’ their young daughter? What’d they think?” You jerk away, overcome with pleasure and embarrassment at the imaginary situation. You feel his fingers pump in and out of you, filling you up. They’re probably thick and hot, glistening each time they come out. You’re tightening up; you’ll cum soon, make a mess on his hand, which already drips with slick. “So you better hurry. Better make a mess on me soon.”

“I am, I’m—I’m gonna,” you moan. You’re wrapped up in the way his fingers play you just the right way. You’re so close to the surface, and you’ve been wanting this for way too long, so you nod, let yourself get carried away by his words, let yourself give in, spreading your legs as wide as they can go as he fingerfucks you, working out the tension that’s been building up for forever.

“That’s my number one girl,” he grins into your neck, and you’re convulsing release onto his hand, wetting it even further. He wraps a hand around your waist, keeps you close to his figure, his erection at the small of your back. “That’s it, honey. Did so well for me.”

“I want it,” you say meekly. “Even if they see.”

He groans. “Sweetheart, you must think real low of me to believe I’d put my cock anywhere near Harold’s daughter’s pussy.”

You tug your panties fully down, just enough so they fall off on their own the rest of the way, and guide his slick hand behind yourself, pressing his finger first into your folds again, sensitive, and then up toward your tighter hole.

You feel his breath tighten behind you when you say: “How ‘bout there?”

#dbf!joel #joel miller #joel miller imagine #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal smut #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller tlou #the last of us #tlou x reader #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel x reader #pedro pascal x reader #tlou smut

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bubuslutty · 6 months

Text

alt!gf x comics nerd!könig

Imagine an awkward comic book nerd König with an alt!gf way out of his league (according to him).

He works part time at a comic book store when he first meets her, he's in a corner arranging comics and manga when she walks in and his eyes widen behind his messy ginger long hair.

She's the prettiest girl he's ever fucking seen in his life and he can't take his eyes off of her. And so do the rest of the clients and workers in the shop.

She's wearing a tiny black baby tee with Miles Morales' Spider Logo on its front, the tee was tight and it looked like she didn't wear anything underneath it, and it was very short, that if she kept stretching her arms above her head too many times to reach for comics in the higher shelves, her shirt is bound to ride up to expose her nipples. Her stomach all down to a few inches below her belly button were naked, and a pair of tiny jean shorts hugged her waist and ass.

Then there was the jewelry, the chains, the arm warmers, gloves, leg warmers, mismatched socks with a pair of white and red Jordans, the headphones, hair clips and cute earrings that tied her outfit together.

She looked like a doll, like those pretty girls you'd see on Pinterest (König doesn't know that, though, bold of you to assume he uses Pinterest).

And König? Well, he was wearing a green t-shirt with the store's logo on the back and front, with a white long sleeved shirt under it, paired with a pair of loose ripped jeans and we'll worn white trainers. And finally, a black mask covering the lower half of his face.

She walked straight to the Marvel shelf, looking around with her hands crossed over her chest while humming until she gasped and got her hands on a comic with Spiderman 2099 plastered on the cover.

König tried his best to stop staring like a creep but she was just so hypnotising, he wanted to keep looking at her, maybe ask her name, what she likes to read–

Don't get ahead of yourself, König, have you seen her and seen yourself?

König's shoulders slumped as he watched her flip through the comic with a smile on her glossy lips, and his heart jumped when she met his eyes.

Shit.

König internally panicked and turned his head towards the shelf he was organizing and adding in new comics to be sold while his heart beat quickly in his chest. He gulped and his hand trembled when he heard shuffling and footsteps getting louder towards him over the sound of some random anime opening from the speakers in the shop.

"Excuse me?"

König tried not to flinch and slowly turned around and looked down at the owner of the voice, a bead of sweat running down the side of his face when he was face to face with the same girl he was gawking at.

"Yes?" König replied, masking his nervousness with a monotone voice.

"Can you get me a comic from the top shelf? I can't reach.." She asked, looking him over not so subtly and tilted her head to the side, adding a small, "Please?" at the end of her sentence.

"Where?" König asked and her eyes lit up. She turned around and led him straight to the shelf and told him the comic she was after as König easily reached for it and handed it over.

"Thank you," She smiled and took the comic from his bigger hand, their hands brushing as he kept watching her through his hair.

"Do you read marvel comics?" She asked and König was surprised, what is she doing?

Making conversation with him?

But girls usually got intimidated by his build and his personality.

König cleared his throat and shoved both of his hands in the pockets of his loose ripped jeans, "Sometimes."

"Do you have a character you like reading about? You don't have to answer if you have work to do, by the way! I'm just curious and want to read more comics about different characters!" She said, toying with the Lego spiderman keychain hanging off her belt hoop, pulling her shorts a bit lower and König looked away when more of her lacey red panties were visible.

"No it's alright. I have time. I like reading about Venom and Moon Knight. And you? Who do you like reading about?..." König answered, his voice not wavering, not even once even if he was screaming in his head.

He hopes he won't scare her away due to the lack of emotion and interest in his voice, but he was internally nervous and that's the only way he knows how to hide it.

But it seemed like the pretty girl wasn't phased nor intimidated by König's tone of voice, or how he literally covered her in his shadow.

"I really like Moon Knight! And Venom too! But obviously, Miles Morales' Spiderman is my favourite…" She excitedly told him and pointed at her chest, where Miles' graffiti Logo was.

"What's your name, by the way?" She quickly asked, and König was a bit overwhelmed.

"König." He answered without thinking and blinking, staring at her with his pale blue eyes.

"Hey, König." She giggled and told him her name as she hugged the comics to her chest.

König didn't know what to say except give her an awkward nod.

"Nice to meet you. I'll go pay for these. And uh, thanks for the help." She said, biting her lower lip and fluttering her pretty eyelashes at him.

"No worries." He said and stepped aside so she could make her way to the till.

König was left buzzing and slightly breathless, he blinked and turned around to face a shelf with Batman runs to compose himself while she paid for her comics. Then he felt a small tap on his back and turned around.

"Sorry I just wanted to give you this." She said while holding a hair band in her hand.

König stared down at her hand without saying anything then back up at her face.

"It's for your hair…" She said in a small voice and König didn't say anything, just stared at her.

Then she coughed, "I just thought– I'm so sorry for overstepping, I'll go now."

König moved without thinking and held her wrist, making her eyes widen like a deer caught in the headlight.

"Thanks." He said and took the hairband, making quick work of tying his hair in a manbun, and now she could see more of his face, his pale eyes, eyebrows, freckles and small scars.

She smiled a bit and gave him a nod, "Bye, now."

"Bye." König said, smiling behind his mask.

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another-lost-mc · 6 months

Text

candy prompts: leviathan + spicy + spooky

leviathan is your biggest fan. he doesn't realize that you're his biggest fan too.

pairing: leviathan x siren!gn!reader

content: nsfw. monster!au (reader is a siren). leviathan has two cocks. implied oral sex (levi receiving).

word count: 1k omg how did this happen

a/n: I like to imagine that aquatic races of the devildom worship and totally want to bang the grand admiral.

This isn't the way tonight's backstage meet & greet with one of his favourite idols was supposed to go.

Levi bought the most exclusive package as soon as the pre-sale link arrived in his Dmail. On the day of the concert, he put on a t-shirt featuring your logo, and he even shrugged on the new zip-up hoodie that he bought in the VIP section before the show. He waited in line with the other backstage pass holders so he could get an autograph and photo with you. Some of the lust demons in line ahead of him were radiating pheromones so strongly that it made his mind groggy, and he shook his head to dissipate the fog of giddy excitement that permeated the air around him.

When it was finally his turn to see you, the other fans had already been escorted away by security. He glanced at you nervously from under the hood he pulled over his head to conceal his identity; it wasn't a secret that the Avatar of Envy was a fan of Devildom's top idols, but he didn't like the unwanted attention from randoms in the crowd.

He handed you his poster and backstage pass to sign and he hoped the tremor in his hands wasn't too noticeable. The black marker squeaked against the thick paper and plastic. You smiled at all your other fans earlier, but even from his place at the back of the line, Levi thought your smile looked forced and insincere. He would know-he's forced that same expression on his own face countless times.

"Th-thanks," he mumbled when you handed him his autographed merch. He cradled them delicately in his arms so that they wouldn't get wrinkled or torn.

"Fans can get a selfie too," you reminded him with a gentle smile. "But maybe we can find a nicer backdrop than this grungy hallway. What do you say?"

Levi glanced around nervously. The security crew that loitered in the area earlier had vanished. There was something enticing about the teasing glint in your eyes but he blinked and the look was gone. He took a deep breath, not realizing how close he was standing to you. When did you get so close? The scent of your fragrance and sweat was staggering and he forced himself to stand still and avoid the temptation to lean even closer. He hesitated for only a moment before nodding.

You beamed wildly and grabbed his hand; he gulped as your fangs tipped over the curve of your lips. "Perfect," you purred before leading him down a dark hallway. "My dressing room is this way."

You were kind enough to take his precious memorabilia and set them down safely before shoving him against your dressing room door. Your lips crashed against his while your hands reached into his sweat-slicked hair. You slid the hood down and cradled his jaw so you could tease the skin of his neck with your fingernails. He broke the kiss with a gasp, and you didn't hesitate to slip your tongue into his mouth and flick it against his before pulling back with a very satisfied smirk.

"I recognized you the moment you stood in line," you admitted, voice quivering with excitement, glassy-eyed and pupils blown wide. "The Avatar of Envy, the Grand Admiral himself, coming to see me perform? I'm flattered."

Levi stared at you like he was seeing you for the first time. Maybe he was seeing the real you for the first time, the version none of your other fans knew existed. In the privacy of your dressing room you could finally be yourself. The magic that concealed your oceanic heritage slid off you like a veil and revealed your secrets to the demon you worshipped like a god. He was entranced. When he licked his lips to chase the taste of your kiss, it reminded him of salt water and the ocean breeze.

You preened under his curious scrutiny, satisfied that he was captivated by you as much as you were of him. When you realized you had his silent approval to continue, you unzipped his sweater and pushed it down his arms. It fell into a heap on the floor at his feet, but he didn't seem to care.

By the time you settled on your knees before him, the delicate pattern of pearlescent scales replaced your once-smooth skin and frilly gills appeared on the sides of your neck. You gazed at him innocently, your third eyelid blinking quickly over your lovestruck eyes as you nuzzled against the bulge in his jeans. Dainty fingers with long nails flicked open the button at his waistband. You bit your bottom lip between rows of jagged teeth and eagerly tugged down the short zipper next. Both his cocks sprung free when you slid his boxers down. He was panting heavily above you, and you licked your lips with a forked tongue, smirking when his eyes followed the movement.

"I've wanted to meet you in person for so long, sir," you whispered reverently. His cocks twitched when your lips imbued his title with just a hint of lust, and you couldn't resist the urge to touch him anymore. You kissed the tip of one of his cocks and smeared precum across your mouth with a satisfied hum, lapping at the salty taste as your mouth watered, eager for another taste. One of your hands curled delicately around the other cock and squeezed him lightly in your grip. He moaned loudly when your webbed fingers began stroking him in a soft, slick rhythm.

"I think I might be your biggest fan," you confessed in a breathy whisper before closing your eyes and finally taking his cock into your mouth.

read more: halloween 2023 masterlist || obey me masterlist

#obey me #obey me leviathan #obey me leviathan x reader #leviathan x reader #leviathan smut #obey me smut #obey me x reader #x reader #gn!reader #cw monsterfucking #trick or treat 2023

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therhythmafterthesummer · 8 months

Note

IBDIJEUIDJBEYAI

I JUST HAD A BIG BRAIN MOMENT!!

Kitten surprising Min with her old school uniform and a lil role play. His mind is racing from the skirt and the memories and he can like touch her how he always imagined her

-🥝

you're so absolutely right, kiwi. this was a humongous brain moment.

i've had this ask in my inbox since mid-august bc i just had to write something I HAD TO since it stirred something within me. thankfully, i recently figured out how i wanted to go about this, and finally got to writing it💜

Pairing: Werewolf!Minho x Human!F.Reader (one of the main pairings of my WereRoomies series, but you probably don’t really need to read any of the other instalments to understand this one, although it's highly recommended!). | Word Count: ~3k | Themes & Warnings: Supernatural/Fantasy AU · Smut · Fluff · Established Relationship · role-playing as high schoolers (disclaimer: they’re both consenting adults fulfilling fantasies of their past, neither are genuinely attracted to minors in any way) · nipple play · unprotected penetration [piv. no barrier method, but reader is on birth control] · a smidge of a breeding kink · cumshot · barely proof-read as it usually is with these “drabbles”...

minors do not interact.

“Min–Minho…”

Oh, how sweet you sounded when you said his name like that… It was just how he’d dreamt it’d be. He’d heard you before, of course. But not in this situation, in this particular setting…

“My dad could be home anytime now–Oh, shit…” Your words got caught in your throat the second he bit one of your nipples. How could he not, when you were on his lap, with your uniform shirt open, and your bra just down enough for him to play with your chest.

“Shh, it’ll be fine, kitten”, Minho mumbled against the swell of your breast, leaving a love bite that he hoped would be visible when you wore one of your low tops. “If he were to come home, you know he doesn’t bother us when we’re doing our homework…”

You whined as soon as his mouth reattached to your nipple, as he gently rolled the other between his thumb and index finger… Your hands buried in his hair, keeping him close while you rolled your hips to find some friction against his crotch. The pressure had his mouth salivating further, borderline drooling all over your nipple like the dog he’d recently become.

Or, at least, in this fantasy, he had probably been turned a few years prior…

When you and Minho had come to your father’s house today to help him clean up some of your old stuff from your childhood room, Minho certainly hadn’t expected for the afternoon to take him right here. To him sitting on the edge of your bed, dressed in his school uniform, with you sitting on his lap, and dressed in your school uniform.

It had been such an impromptu thing… You found the pieces of clothing at the bottom of your dresser, forgotten from the last time you wore them in your final year. Back then, you always kept a spare change of Minho’s uniform for those nights when he unexpectedly stayed over.

‘Ohhhh, you should put it on. I used to love how the uniform looked on you’, you’d told him as you handed him the dress shirt with the school’s logo on it, and the white vest top he used to wear under it.

‘Alright, but only if you put on yours. The whole thing. I also loved how you looked in that uniform’, he’d told you immediately, because it was the truth. That plaid skirt and the white button-up used to make stellar appearances in his teenage-hormones-driven wet dreams.

He used to feel embarrassed about it. You were his best friend in this world, and the fact that he found himself daydreaming of how it’d look like if he took a peek under your skirt, or how it’d feel if he buried his face in your cleavage, certainly made him feel guilty.

Now, as an adult well into his twenties, after you both shared your affections, he no longer felt as guilty about it. Especially after learning that you yourself had those thoughts about him back then, too.

When you put on that uniform shy of fifteen minutes ago, Minho was reminded of all those thoughts he used to have, of all the sleepless nights and hidden chubs at school… It hit him then that maybe this was exactly why he loved seeing you in skirts so much in present day. A result of his teenage-self’s never fulfilled desires.

Sure, he couldn’t button his shirt since his shoulders and arms had broadened with age, and your skirt was certainly much shorter than it used to be, but that didn’t stop either of you from falling into your roles.

‘Mmm… It’s almost like we have just come back from school and are getting ready to get some work done’, you chuckled as you looked at yourself in the mirror and adjusted your thigh high socks.

That sentence alone lit up the bulb in his head, it sparked a naughty little idea that he knew you’d either entertain or laugh about. Either result was fine by him, so he had no qualms when he walked behind you, and looked at you through the mirror.

Calling your name as he placed his hands on your waist, Minho had asked you to turn around to face him. ‘There’s… there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you for so long… Please don’t be mad…’

Minho feigned nervousness, like he was once again that boy that had seemingly unrequited feelings for his best friend.

‘I really, really like you… Can’t stop thinking about you. How’d it be like to kiss you, to feel you close in ways other than platonic. You’re my best friend, and I cherish that deeply, but I just… I like you so much’, funny thing, how those were pretty much the same words he’d wanted to say to you back then. Words he had practised in front of the mirror a few times, but he was always too much of a coward to actually tell you.

You looked at him in what Minho figured was feigned shock. Oh, how he loved you… You just knew him so well, and knew exactly what he was doing without saying a single word. ‘I… I like you, too. Have liked you for so long, Minho…’

Minho had cupped your cheeks and pulled you in for a kiss. He kissed you as if he’d never done it before, desperately, hungrily, no time for being tender and soft when all he’d wanted was to devour you whole. And you had retaliated, of course. You’d pulled him close by the collar of his shirt and pressed your chest to his, kissing him with fervour.

‘Even if I’m… If I’m now…’ A beast, was what he wanted to say as he spoke between kisses. Minho had maybe fallen a little too well into this role of his younger self. He could still remember how insecure he used to be about his condition, how he looked down on himself after being infected with this goddamn lycanthropy… Those were feelings that no longer existed within him, he had now long since accepted this was part of him. If anything, with time, he’d embraced it.

‘I’d like you even if… Even if you were a worm’, you replied simply, making him giggle, which in turn made you giggle.

Minho scooped you into his arms after that, and he walked the remaining steps to your childhood bed so he could sit on it with you on his lap. In no time, he was groping you over your shirt, under your skirt, and you had started to beg for him to touch you more.

His instincts were stunted, you knew that, he knew that, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have this animal side to him. Sometimes, especially when he was horny, that animalistic side of him took over his logical mind, and, back when he was a teen, he could recall having a harder time with certain feelings and emotions like these. So, he let them cloud his reason a bit as he fulfilled this little fantasy of his…

Minho ripped your shirt open, the buttons flew all over your room, and you gasped when he buried his head between your breasts. The thing was also a bit too tight on you, so he was sure you wouldn’t miss the garment if it got ripped a bit in the process.

You scrambled to take a hold of his hands, bringing them to your chest so he could fondle you over your bra, once again begging him to touch you. To ‘Please, please, Minho, touch me. I need it. I need you…’

And he was sure his cock was about to pop out of his jeans with how hard it got at your desperation.

So here you were, grinding into each other, on your childhood bed while Minho feasted on your tits.

“Fuck, that feels so good, baby. Harder. Do it harder…”

How could he deny you when you sounded so needy? When he’d wanted to do this for so long?

He bit harder, pinched harder, pulling strangled sounds of pleasure out of your lips. The more attention he gave to your chest, the more you rolled your hips against him, effectively pulling sounds of pleasure out of his lips.

His senses were flooded by you. The smell of your arousal on your lavender scent, your weight of him, the taste of your skin on his tongue, all combined had him almost delirious, especially when his free hand found its way under that godforsaken skirt of yours to tightly grope one of your buttocks.

“Baby, I think I’m… I might…”

Fuck, if you came just from him playing with your chest and you grinding your cunt on the tent in his jeans, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to contain himself. Although, he supposed coming in his underwear would’ve been a very accurate representation of what would’ve happened if his teenage self had ever had the opportunity to have you on him like this…

Minho couldn’t help but groan when you tightened your grip on his hair, when you started to roll your hips faster, harder… God, all he wanted right now was for the girl of his dreams to come, he needed to feel you trembling in his hold, to drown in your scent so he could convince himself this was happening.

Seeing you come, holding you tight while you did, was just absolutely delightful. You bit on your fist to keep your moans contained, while your whole body shook with your release.

Minho had to make the conscious effort not to blow right then and there. He was sure that if this had happened back when you were still that young, he would’ve certainly done so. He imagined that this would’ve probably been your first sexual experience together, that you’d laugh about how he soiled his underwear and how needy you’d been, before you laid down and cuddled for a bit…

Maybe you would’ve had sex a different time, on a different day where you were sure your dad wouldn’t come back home… But this wasn’t about being fully realistic, this was about having fun while fulfilling a shared fantasy.

“Fuck, Minho, baby, stop… I’m sore…”

Minho finally pulled himself away from your chest, mumbling a very unconvincing ‘Sorry’ before he attached his lips to the pulse point on your neck, relishing how fast your blood was pumping in your veins.

“You’re so fucking hot, my kitten. I’ve been dreaming of this moment, y’know?” He mumbled in your ear, taking one of your breasts in his hand to fondle the flesh, with special care to not stimulate your nipple too much.

“Me too, baby…” You were still trembling occasionally within his arms, taking deep breaths to get your racing heart to slow down inside your chest. “I’ve wanted this so bad… Even… Even touched myself thinking about it”.

“Mmm, fuck…” Minho started sucking love bites on your neck, following this faint need in his gut to leave his mark on you. “Have you?”

“I have… Sometimes, I did it while we slept in the same room”.

Minho wasn’t sure if this was you playing your fantasy, or if this was a real thing that happened, but, being honest, it didn’t matter. It made his mind disconnect completely as soon as the words came out of your mouth regardless.

Before he could even register it himself, he had stood up and thrown you on the bed, eliciting a shaky, surprised gasp from your lips. In a second, he was on you, kissing you hard, messily, even desperately. Your limbs wrapped around him, your arms around his neck, and your legs around his middle, bringing him further down to lay flush against you in your heated kiss.

He was dizzy, lightheaded, and for a second, he almost believed he was in the past, that he was making out with you on your bed after school, that he was about to lose his virginity to his best friend.

“Fuck, I need to put it in…” Minho barely detached his lips from yours while he spoke, just kept messily kissing you between words as he ground his hips to your core. “Please, please let me put it in… Need you…”

“We–we need a condom, Min”, your hands found their way under his top, where they settled to caress his back, making him shiver. “I don’t have any here”.

“Fuck, I don’t have any, either”, Minho left your lips to instead attach his own to your collarbones, to nibble on the sensitive skin, making you whine. “I’ll pull out. I got quick reflexes, it’ll be fine, please…”

He certainly was playing into this horny-teenage-boy thing all too well. Although, he was sure his younger self wouldn’t have been this stupid to believe just ‘pulling out’ would be an effective contraceptive, and surely neither would you. After all, back then, your dad made sure you both knew about being safe, which Minho was grateful for to this day.

Regardless, the very real implant you had in your arm made it so he could play like this, so you both could play like this.

“Shit, you’ll pull out?” Your hands trembled when they found his backside and squeezed him. “You would, wouldn’t you?”

“Promise, kitten. Cross my heart”.

One of your hands left his bum to move to his crotch, where you cupped and squeezed him and overall felt him over the fabric of his jeans. He couldn’t help but buck his hips to let you feel as much as you could of him. “Fuck, okay. But Min… I’m not sure this will fit…”

“It will. I’m sure it will. It has to. You trust me, no?”

With a deep breath, biting your lip, you nodded. “Trust you with my life”.

When Minho pulled himself away from your hold, he just had to tell you how fucking gorgeous you looked with your hair all messy, your tits out, your ripped shirt, and that fucking skirt… The hem pooled on your belly, exposing your underwear and the mouth-watering wet-patch on them.

God, he wanted a taste… But there wasn’t enough time for that right now.

Minho hastily unbuttoned his jeans, pulling them and his underwear down just enough to free his length. You swore under your breath, taking him into your hand and spreading the pre-cum that had beaded at the tip so you could easily stroke him.

“Baby, please…” You guided him to your core. With your free hand, you pulled your underwear to the side, and dragged the tip of his cock all over your folds. “Need it. Need you, Minho…”

One day you’d be the death of him, he was sure.

Under normal circumstances, Minho would’ve stretched you open with his fingers, he would’ve made sure you were absolutely ready to take that annoyingly big alpha cock of his. But he figured skipping the step would be a bit more… in character.

“Oh, fuck, fuck…” Minho pushed himself into your heat slowly, letting your walls adjust to his length with what he hoped wasn’t much discomfort. He knew that if there had been any, you would’ve said the word that would immediately stop everything you were doing. “That’s so fucking tight…”

You whined, not necessarily in discomfort, but in that way that made him know you were feeling impatient. Wrapping your legs around his hips, you tried to push on his backside to get him to get in already. “Please, I need it all. Now”.

“Shit–!” As soon as Minho bottomed out and had propped himself on his forearms, you took a hold of his hair and pulled him down for a messy kiss.

There was just so much spit. Everything was so sloppy and messy and he was honestly enjoying it way more than he ever thought he would.

“Fuck, you’re so hard… Can’t believe you fit”, you mumbled breathlessly against his lips, releasing his hair to place your hands on his back.

“Didn’t doubt–Shit, if you keep clenching like that I’ll come, kitten… Didn’t doubt I’d fit right in. Isn’t this cunt for me? Hm? Hasn’t it always been?” Minho didn’t even give you time to respond, he just started to thrust, a borderline animalistic pace that had you biting on his shoulder to muffle your moans.

There was nothing but heavy breaths and desperate groans and whines and moans… Nothing but the sound of skin slapping against skin and the headboard hitting the wall and your nails sinking on his clothed back…

Minho vaguely realised he was growling with each thrust. Like an animal. He was making all these sounds like the animal he was. And every time he did, your body just immediately reacted. Either by clawing at his back, or biting harder on his shoulder, or clamping hard around his length…

It was honestly driving him crazy. It reminded him that, ultimately, you accepted him, that you loved him just as he was. What an odd, but pleasant reflexion to make when you both were fucking, and pretending to be your teenage selves at that.

“It–It is”, you meekly mumbled after a while, and Minho, a bit puzzled, pulled himself away from your neck to look you in the eyes. “It’s yours. Has always been. I’ve always been”.

Minho swore loudly, throwing his head back once your words registered properly in his hazy mind. Your cunt was his, you were his. You’ve always been…

That reassurance, coupled with the vice grip of your walls, got him so incredibly close…

“Fuck, kitten, gonna come. Need to–need to pull out”, Minho was panting, drunk on the pleasure he was feeling and the fog clouding his reason.

Your legs tightened around his frame, keeping him as close as you could while he kept thrusting into you. “What if–What if you don’t?”

“Oh, God… Don’t say that…”

“Why? What if I want your puppies? Hm?”

He was going to die. Minho was sure he was seeing the gates of heaven open up right in front of him.

“C–can’t. We can’t…” Shaking his head, Minho tried his best to hold back, a titanic effort with how fucking good you were making him feel, with how fucking in love with you he was.

“Can’t…?” There was a pout on your lips, highlighted by your blown pupils, and Minho, once again, shook his head in response.

Minho just desperately shook his head. “Kitten, baby, please…”

The hold of your legs relented. Minho immediately straightened himself and pulled out of your warmth to take his cock in one of his hands while the other gripped your hip tightly. One, two pumps and he was groaning deeply, coming all over your underwear, over your mound and your now only partially exposed folds.

The sight was nothing short of exquisite. Your wrinkled, open shirt, your tits still falling out of your bra, with your nipples slightly puffy after all the attention Minho had given them, the skirt hunched at your waist, and your underwear drenched in his cum…

Minho felt light, satisfied, and, as he tried to catch his breath, he just took you in.

After a few moments of silence–silence, save for the sound of your heavy breathing and the ringing in his ears–a grin made its way to your face, and, a second after, you broke into laughter. It made him laugh, too. Maybe uncontrollably so.

“Oh, that was awesome”, you chuckled, wiping the tears that had collected in your eyes at your outburst. “So good”.

“Totally agree”, Minho leaned into you to press a brief kiss on your lips before he left the bed to find a face towel from your dresser to clean up the stupid amounts of cum that had come out of his stupid monster cock off of your body.

“‘Suppose it was a good thing that my dad isn’t coming until very late today. It would’ve been seriously awkward to explain what was going on if he found us… Well, like this”, you started shrugging your shirt off as soon as Minho had finished cleaning you up, and proceeded to work the couple of buttons on your skirt.

“I don’t think he would’ve appreciated the sight, to be honest”, Minho chuckled, getting out of his shirt and vest top as well to put his t-shirt back on and do his jeans.

As soon as you two were dressed properly and in clean clothes, you both laid back down, unbothered by the soiled sheets. Minho simply pulled you into his arms, and pressed a brief kiss on your forehead before he hugged you close.

“Kitten…” Minho mumbled against your hair after a while, dragging his hand up and down your back in a gentle caress. “Was that true?”

You absentmindedly traced patterns on his chest, shapes that he could’ve sworn were hearts and stars. “Was what true?”

“Y’know… that thing about… About you touching yourself while I was in the same room…”

You pulled yourself away from his hold a bit so you could look him in the eyes. A smile came to your lips, right before you started opening your mouth to speak.

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commsroom · 4 months

Text

eiffel and lovelace have approximately 80% similar personal styles, which would delight him and horrify her. like, tank tops, cargo shorts, flannel jacket, same kind of old sneakers and sandals, etc. lovelace's fashion sense is just a little sportier; some basketball shorts, jerseys, and new york liberty logo tanks in place of eiffel's walmart discount rack selection of pop culture tees. that kind of thing. if hera could dress the way she wanted to, she'd have a very... folk festival woman at a farmer's market type of vibe. colorful, flowy, nature-y patterns. but minkowski is so much harder to imagine in casual clothing. a big part of it is how much she's separated her work life from her personal life, but even then... she just feels like someone who is practical about it to a fault. she doesn't dress badly, she's always put together, she just dresses. kind of like a mom in an old navy catalog.

#wolf 359 #w359 #i wonder sometimes what she wore to her wedding #because she has the image of a person who would get married in uniform. except she would NOT.#that's the one thing she definitely did not do #because of the aforementioned. separating her work and personal life. and she usually does things in a fairly traditional or expected way #but the other option for that is imagining her in a wedding dress and that is just. what.#i almost hope she did because just seeing those wedding photos would absolutely annihilate everyone else.#anyway eiffel is the easiest to imagine in casual clothing because he doesn't even wear his uniform properly. guaranteed.#doug eiffel #isabel lovelace #hera wolf 359 #renee minkowski

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boba-beom · 5 days

Note

me running full speed to your inbox because you said taehyun (it’s me the full time taehyun simp)

fratboy football player taehyun x cheerleader!reader 😁😁😁 (i know he’s more of a soccer guy but BARE W MEEE)

honestly football players txt all of them… sookai ate this up in ways i can’t even describe

good girl cheerleader reader who’s a little ditzy but she’s so sweet n sugary… tutoring w/ football player tyun who’s also top of his classes cos he’s just so smart hehe .. the tension at his games good lord

RAAAAAH YES AND YES LIA OMGGG YOU DON’T EVEN UNDERSTAND MY JAW DROPPED 🫠

footballer!taehyun x cheerleader!reader suggestive thoughts (literally all over the place bear with me)

first of all I LOVE this concept, and I wholeheartedly agree that sookai ate up that fit but they’re a good looking group of guys who can fu—

idk what it is but when you mentioned ‘sweet n sugary’ I get it, I really do omfg. like every time the cheerleaders have a dress rehearsal you’re all out on the field beside where the footballers have their training outdoors. short fitting shorts under the cute flap of your mini pleated skirt and your fitted long sleeved bodysuit with the university’s logo and the name of the football team you’re supporting.

literally going insane over the fact taehyun most likely watches the cheerleaders, specifically you, doing cartwheels and splits, his tongue poking his cheek once he sees just how flexible you are. probably storing it in a compartment in his brain with a massive label addressed as your name in bold and all caps.

thing is, taehyun knows you’re too good and a little ditzy to even realise half of the team is salivating over you. even better, you don’t know what he thinks when he watches you, thinking he’s giving you innocent eye contact from where he was watching.

tutoring with him must be fun. he knows your ditzy, but also knows you’re academically competent. he knows that when you set your mind to it, you’re able to do it with confidence. hence your place in cheer since the selection for the group wasn’t easy.

during your tutoring sessions you’d sometimes come in your practice clothes after a cheer rehearsal—the clothes being a oversized cropped tshirt and skin tight booty shorts that leaves little to the imagination. sitting next to taehyun and he instantly glances down at the meat of your thighs while you take your books and laptop out.

occasionally, he’d be talking to you about a section within the subject in which you’re struggling in but far from failing. you just want all your grades to be as good as his. he’s been your inspiration this whole time anyway. and sometimes when you work out the questions a little quicker than he does, he lays his warm palm against your inner knee and caresses your exposed skin gently, cooing praises like, “you’ve gotten better I see.” or even a, “atta girl” 😵‍💫🫠🤯

and the games THE GAMES 😵‍💫 I just know tension rises during the games, knowing just how competitive he can be and you’re cheering as hard as you can for the home team, for taehyun. just like when the cheerleaders are performing at the beginning of the game (idk how it works I’m sorry I’ve never been to … nor seen an american football game cjdmdk) the footballers are all getting ready to enter the field, and once the performance is done you make sure to make eye contact with taehyun and blowing him a kiss with a wink. that’ll for sure keep his energy up at the beginning of the game.

and let’s say the home team won 🤭 and the cheer squad end with another performance, you run up to taehyun and congratulate him for being one of the teams best players that evening. smiling up at him with your sweet smile, asking him if you can be his plus one to the team’s celebration later that night. how can taehyun refuse?

“‘course you can, doll. want you by my side tonight, m’kay?” and he’d cup your cheek, thumb caressing your skin until he slides his hand to cup your jaw, then a little lower to hold onto your neck with no pressure.

and all you do is nod with your pretty doe eyes and your pretty, perfect smile that has him wrapped around your finger. boy does taehyun want to ditch that afterparty and take you home to ruin in his sheets. because fuck the tension, he wants you. he always has.

#tried to cover a bit of each thing you mentioned #this probably took a different route than I wanted #but alas it’s here and it’s 1:30am #I hope this was okay lia omg #lia ᡣ𐭩 #miupow ᡣ𐭩 #[ 🪴 ] — asks.#[ 🧸 ] — mutuals.#taehyun hard hours #taehyun suggestive #taehyun smut #taehyun hard thoughts

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chrollohearttags · 1 year

Note

no because why was I listening to futures song called rich sex and thought maybe I could request you to make a sex scene for the influencer wife x rapper Eren cause it just…goes so well with the song , cause like…imagine Eren was on tour right? And y/n is with him too , don’t you think it’ll be a GOOD ASS SMUT if they fuck WHILEEEE on tour? And then Eren is dressed up all in his expensive jewelry such as y/n and then he decides to fuck y/n for a lil adrenaline rush to hype him up before he gets on stage. So don’t you think that would be A GOOD ASS SMUT cause I think so too.

Oh. My. Goddddd!! This is perfect likeee, your mind. I’m biting my fist so hard thinking about this. 😩 say less, I got you bby!

(btw, I hope y’all ain’t sick of this storyline yet cause it’s fr my fucking fave and the only thing I’ll be talking about for the next week!)

“Baby, let's go have rich sex”

themes: riding, 69, choking, mentions of drinking and smoking, exhibitionism (if you squint), mirror sex, collapsed back shots, they just be fucking nasty fr so anything goes

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.─── ── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.──

another day, another dollar as the saying goes but it was another night, another city down in the instance of the international recording artist…going from state to state, pouring his heart out on the stage in the form of his wonderful music. Although it had been some time, he still had it like he never left and the proof was in the form of not only his massive ticket sales but all of the tweets and tagged pictures, praising the rapper for his performance and love of his fans.

now, he was on his tour bus..headed to the next location on the docket of his North American leg. Surrounded by his crew, band and of course, the love of his life, (y/n) (l/n); having not too long ago celebrated the joyous occasion with those he cherished most as they all raised champagne glasses for a toast to Eren.

now the musician could be found in the luxurious master bedroom of the bus..lying atop the California King, shrouded in blue silk Versace bed linen, which was discreetly embroidered with the designer logo and his initials on the other side. A black robe from the same maker swaddling his freshly showered body..

mindless background noise could be heard playing from a fifty inch flatscreen mounted on the wall. Currently, he was blowing clouds of smoke into the air from the spliff placed between his lips..using it to ironically come down from the high of the evening. It was always his ritual of sorts to decompress after being on stage. A time of quiet reflection except now…

“You mind if I join you?..”

he had much to look forward to afterwards. That sweet, sexy voice he’d never grow tired of hearing, perking him straight up from his position. He’d be greeted by the pleasant surprise of his beloved bride-to-be, taking off your robe and standing at the foot of the bed in all white lace lingerie..contrasting that almost ethereal umber complexion. Like the smoothest Godiva and his biggest weakness, among other things..

those pretty ass titties sitting up perfectly in that bralette and cascading down your back were the forty inches of Brazilian bundles; black with honey blonde highlights at the very front. Those baby hairs styled and laid to perfection.

you truly were a goddess in the flesh.

“..and I was just wondering where your pretty ass was..c’mere, baby.”

the sentence followed by a wave of his finger, signaling you to climb on top of him. And with that deep, drowsy..sexy voice, you wouldn’t waste another second doing so. Immediately gliding a hand up his chiseled, tattooed chest and targeting his neck with gentle kisses;

flicking around his ear and hitting those giant studs in them. Your soft lips slightly brushing the diamonds of the customized ‘EJ’ chain, courtesy of famed jeweler Johnny Dang. A piece he acquired after the success of his very first album..a good luck charm of sorts, worth over ten bands..

but the collection didn’t stop there. A Patek scattered with VVS’ that could pay someone’s car note, grazed your bare ass as he gripped it with both hands amidst your make-out session.

(Y/N) slowly grounded on his lap to drum up the impending hard on that quickly formed at the sight of you. How could it not when his baby was adorned in matching pieces that glowed like fluorescents under the ceiling’s lavender lighting? The Cuban Link encrusted with pink diamonds and your name plate, a Rollie with the same color scheme and a glistening choker and anklet with his name on it.

all reminders of his rampant success and the fact that you were all his..taking pride in the fact that he could afford to not only splurge on himself but ice his girl out as well. One look around that bus and anyone could see how much he loved the lavish life..even if he didn’t flaunt it for the world to see.

“Y’know, I’m so proud of you, baby..I swear I’ll never get tired of hearing you perform.” the muffled words uttered in a sultry tone and one that made him feel better than any comment could. You really were his number one supporter and now, you wanted to give him a reward that no one else had to offer. Staring at his beloved with those gleaming green eyes that you loved so much, he’d crack a faint smile. “Yeah? I did a good job, huh mama?” that nickname always sending chills and tingles to unseen places…

honestly, being the perfectionist he was, he’d had doubts. There was no way he’d be able top his last performance or draw out another crowd like that. But you were going to remind him every time that he still was every bit of the star they said he was. And that was all the validation he needed.

you’d continue touching and licking all over him, trying to render that pretty physique of his completely nude. “…mmmm, yes and you looked sooo fucking good on that stage tonight..couldn’t wait to come fuck on you..”

admitting bluntly with your face nuzzled into the crook of his neck, suckling on his skin and surely leaving a hickey or two. Meanwhile, you’d rub the thin seat of those panties against his erection, that was growing larger. The tiny wet spot forming as a result of the friction…which made him claw at the sheets. There was no way he’d ever survive this tour without you here! Months on the road without his girl?

FaceTime would’ve never sufficed but truthfully, you were turned on the second you saw him up on that stage..so confidently spitting his lyrics, commanding the crowd and talking his shit. What really done you in was the final song when he became shirtless;

black cargos hugging his waist and faintly exposing the waistband of his boxers..chains shining and sweat glistening from his ripped muscles as he was performing one of his more risqué joints. Looking direct at you when he rapped about fucking like he wanted to give you his child. Of course, his horny fangirls would probably disagree and say the message was meant for them..hence why they all began grabbing at his crotch.

“Yeah? ‘Cause I been needing some of that pussy too..”

..but rest assured, you were the only thing on his mind. That much confirmed by the way he was sucking his teeth and moaning. Pawing at your g-string to peel it back and expose your dripping center. Once that cool air hit your warmth, his cock was next; allowing you to tease yourself against his shaft as he opened up that bathrobe. So helplessly grinding and whimpering with his tip grazing your clit..leaning up momentarily only to align with your entrance..gliding down on it until you both heard the slight pop of it being inside. Almost immediately, Eren tossed his head back and moaned at the sensation of your tight grip.

“Oh fuck..” meanwhile, you were getting into position; planting both feet on the bed and a hand across his chest. Something about staring down to see him with that chain on as you bounced on that dick just made you wetter. And he knew you loved fucking him with that jewelry on so he wouldn’t dare remove it..neither of you could sit idle though so once you gathered your bearings, (y/n) began moving, slowly propelling yourself up and down on it just to get a feel.

the visible tightness of your insides gripping him with each one..it was because of that, this man would buy you the whole world if you asked. That pussy was worth billions as far as he was concerned! So once you started to add a little rhythm and speed to your riding, he’d glare up at you in amazement. Smacking noises erupting as you had already slathered him down in your slick from that previous teasing.. “..yeah, just like that, baby…’fucking me so good.”

it’d be a miracle if you didn’t wake the rest of the passengers on board with his loud moaning but you weren’t too far behind as that tip reached your spot. It never took much from this angle. “Just lay back, daddy..and let me do the work. You deserve it…” nothing made him feel better. Having this bad bitch fuck his brains out..a little buzzed from the alcohol and weed he consumer earlier, it was bliss.

“Mmm..thank you, baby. Oh my God..you feel so good right now..”

but you were struggling a bit, trying to gain your pace because no matter how many times the two of you made love, his massive size was still your weakness. But you took that shit every time like you owned it! Eventually, (y/n) was full blown fucking him..balancing perfectly on those tip toes and bouncing.

even deciding to throw a few tricks into the mix with that big voluptuous ass, twerking and dancing on that dick whilst you grabbed at his chain as a leash of sorts. That’s when you felt him pulsate inside of you and felt the sudden clutch of his heavy hand on your backside, followed by encouraging slaps to your cheeks. “yeah..let me know how good that pussy feels..how much you love when I ride this dick..” without a doubt, he was your bitch at the moment! Eyes stretched wide and mouth agape with loud moans as you clamped around that shaft once again.

a sheet of slimy, sticky arousal being the only barrier between your clashing flesh. It made no goddamn sense how messy you got.

“I fucking love that shit, mama…about to make me come in that pussy..she so wet f’r me too…fuuuck!” sounding so hot and helpless with those high pitched cries. You loved when he became submissive like this.

he was exhausted after moving around on stage for two hours and not too long ago, he was drained but right now, it was taking everything in him not to fuck up into you..but he knew you could handle it and soon, it would pay off. Continuing to ride until you felt your legs begin to weaken, you’d eventually lie flat against his torso and slam that round ass entirely on him; burying that cock until it hit your core. From there, you two met in a sloppy, passionate kiss..exchanging strings of saliva and sexy whimpers.

your mouth eventually meeting his ear, only to fill it with sweet cries. “I’m ‘bout to come, daddy! Fuck..I c-ca—“ your sentence coming to an abrupt halt as you felt a ping in your tummy and suddenly, couldn’t go another second. Your wobbly legs shot straight up as you reached your climax first. Which he wasn’t too mad at, considering the fact that he always wanted you to get that nut first and also, you were flooding him and his sheets with squirt.

not to mention, it gave him just the opening he needed to take control for this next position. “Nah, don’t run. Sit on this fucking face.” With a grin on his features, Eren reached over and clutched behind your thighs, bringing you down to his face to let some remnants fall into his open mouth. He loved your taste..drinking it in like it was the finest FiJi. His freakiness knew no bounds and you loved it.

“Mmmm, baby! Fuck!” (y/n) crying out as he slurped your juices and that swollen clit. You’d look back to see his manhood still standing at attention and twitching on its lonesome as he tongue fucked your pussy. But you didn’t have to miss out on the fun either as he instructed you to flip around so that you were locked into a sixty nine position. He hadn’t come yet so he wanted make sure to fill your pretty little throat with all that nut instead..

he was already enjoying his feast, flicking his tongue between your folds and even your asscrack when you managed to get acclimated with you began suctioning those plump lips around his shaft. Sucking him off and tasting yourself in the process..soon, your bodies were like a well oiled machine; working in tandem to give each other oral pleasure..the only thing heard from either end were soft whimpers and loud slurping.

putting his dick seven inches down your throat until you coaxed out spit bubbles to further lube him up with before jerking him off for a minute. The cold steel of your chain gently brushing past his balls which caused him to thrust up into your throat. He had a knack of not playing fair when it came to you sucking his dick. He always wanted to test your limits and see how far that cock could fit, even sometimes touching your uvula when he done so. He couldn’t help himself when you were so skilled at giving head..even jokingly saving you in his phone as throat goat.

the way you didn’t care how messy it got, if you fucked up your makeup or even choked, you’d eventually end up swallowing his nut in some form or fashion. And right now, you were well on your way to doing so. Softly massaging his sack, you’d continue working his member, pumping it to inevitably make him climax. But the more you suckled at his tip, the further he shoved his tongue into your entrance and made you yelp. He’d be getting a second orgasm out of you if he wasn’t careful.

and he wasn’t letting up until that happen. However, he wasn’t too far behind and in one swift move, (y/n) spat those strings of precum and saliva back down on to his length and cleaned it all up with one big suction motion that nearly took him off the bed.

“F-fuck!” drumming those cries out of his mouth as you did the same to his cock..milking that warm, white fluid from his balls to the back of your throat. Almost like clockwork, you too released yet again, all over his tongue. He’d lap it all up with no hesitation also..

“You’re so fucking nasty…God, I love you..”

Eren choked out from the back of his throat, head tossed against the silk lined pillow case. You’d look down to see his toes curling and legs trembling..a job well done if you could say so yourself. But the two of you weren’t finished by a long shot. He needed to be inside of you..and this time, he wanted you both to watch! Finally coming to, he’d smack your ass a couple times to get your attention and move you once more.

placing you at the edge of the bed, he’d command you on all fours and to face the giant mirror in front of it. Your nude, sweat slicked bodies on full display in the reflection…it was something so sexy about it. Planted firmly in the mattress on your hands and knees, you’d stare straight ahead, winding those hips in a fluid motion and slowly making that round ass jiggle. The curve could be seen as you folded your arms and pressed your perky titties further into the mattress; making that back arch as far as it could go.

it was that type of thickness men made full songs about. That had the whole industry hating on this man for no reason..other than the fact he was the one lucky enough to beat your back in every night. But you doubted there was anyone else who could ever put that dick on you the way he did! And he was about to prove why.

“Look back at me when you do that shit, mama..” twisting your head around, you’d give him a doe eyes expression with those big brown orbs, subtly tossing it against his pelvis as he bucked up against your ass; smacking on it for encouragement. “..so goddamn fine, I swear..”

flicking your tongue over your lips, you’d continue throwing it on him until you felt him clutch your waist, resting that wristwatch on the cute dimples in the small of your back. Around your hips hung a bejeweled belly chain, and he was about to use it to his advantage. Now, he had tugged your face forward again, making you watch as prepared to give you that pipe for the second time..it was his turn to be in control so you knew he was about to go crazy…

gently tapping that head against your sticky center, he’d make you draw a few light huffs, mainly out of frustration. That little hole was spasming on air and asking to be filled so you couldn’t take anymore of the teasing. “Mmphmm…quit playinggg. Give me that dick.” It was so adorable how antsy you got that quickly. Because you looked so precious when begging, he wouldn’t hold out any longer.

“Alright, alright…I won’t. You know what to do, open that shit up then.”

immediately, you’d place your palms to your round cheeks and spread them apart. Your diamond tennis bracelet and long acrylics laying on your smooth skin..like a work of art. Suddenly, you’d see a long trail of saliva trickle from his lips onto his cock head, where he’d massage it in before stuffing it back in your needy cunt. Damn near sucked in by those folds. You obviously needed him pretty bad..

so he’d never keep his princess waiting. His manicured fingers clutched that little accessory to keep you reigned in as he began feeding you deep strokes to the center of your core. Not exactly rough yet but damn sure not slow..enough to have you creaming with only a couple in. Meanwhile, you could see him fixated on the motion of your ass, moving with each one. Back shots with you always went fucking dumb..the sound, the collision of skin..it was perfect.

“Feels good, huh baby?” Taunting in a soft moan as you’d look up and see him chewing at his lip, trying to concentrate on his rhythm. You didn’t have to worry about him because he’d be handling it soon enough. Chuckling, he’d just smack your bottom again and speed up. “You just bouncing that shit on me…don’t stop, baby.”

and you’d gladly obey, letting him tug you back as he impaled you on his shaft..fitting it past the hilt, shoving it in and then all the way back out. Soon, he was rocking you back and forth with complete dominion over your body. You’d fuck him back, meeting those thrusts for as long as you could until you found yourself trembling and he took control again. No need to stress though because he was more than capable of fucking you just fine on his own.

“..tapping out on me already, princess? I’m not even close yet.” Now it was his turn to tease you and with one hand still on your ass; thumb pressed into your puckering asshole, the other reaching for that long hair; not giving a fuck if he messed it up because he’d pay to get it redone, he’d pound your little pussy like he was trying to make good on his promise during the concert. That platinum chain slamming his chest and the few untamed brunette locks scattering around that handsome face, he’d tap into another speed and keep going for you.

the glistening diamonds of all your collective jewelry practically glowing underneath the now dimmer fluorescent lighting…such a pleasing aesthetic and fuel to keep going. At this point, he had you clawing at the bed sheets, trying to keep your head up but drool was seeping from between those pretty lips and your eyes were rolling to the back of your head..he was beating your shit up so bad, you could feel it touching the inner corner of your cervix. It was unfathomable how big that shit was and how well he wielded it. That’s why you’d gladly display his name on you.

“Hhngh! Daddy, fuck! Yes—oh my gosh! I can feel it…’s so deep..” Tears beginning to swell and fall from your eyes at this point because you couldn’t take it. His palm slowly circulated your throat, applying slight pressure to asphyxiate your breathing and give you even more stimulation. Undeniably, he was the best dick you had ever had and to think, you’d be getting it in every city and for the rest of your life. But that was perfect because he’d train that pretty little cunt to only conform to his shape. So much so, you’d never want to leave…

“I know, baby…but you taking that dick so good for me. I don’t wanna stop.” And that much was apparent when he slowed only for a second because you were frozen before clamping down and releasing a stream of squirting juices. It happened so fast, that you couldn’t even time your orgasm.. “ahhh, shittt! Mmmphm!” full blown fucked to tears as you rubbed it out onto his jumping member, which made him so proud; even slapping it against your slit to drum more out. Until you finished and collapsed on your stomach.

“You look so pretty when you come…I love it.”

but the fun wasn’t over quite yet! Keeping his palm planted to the center of your back, Eren held you down and continued drilling into you..rutting his hips into your cheeks and shoving his cock as far as he could go. “It’s alright, mama. You did so good..but let me handle the rest. I got it..lemme take care of you.” his voice completely soothing and comforting as he massaged your back. To be so delicate after making you nut for a third time was nothing less than to be expected of your man.

however, he’d be joining you shortly and you’d both be on that climatic cloud together. His voice began to crack and you’d hear his breathing become faster..he was definitely reaching his peak and before long, those thrusts slowed drastically and only came in shape jolts, signaling how close he was. That grip was a little too much now and with his shaft swollen inside of you, he’d have no choice but to stay in it. “Ha!-f-fuck!..I’m ‘bout to come, baby..”

and with those final words from his beloved (y/n)..

“Come in me..nut in this pussy, daddy. I want it..”

he’d fulfill your request by dumping every drop and inkling of his warm seed into your womb. Pinning you to the mattress before collapsing over onto your entire frame. Whining so helplessly, that it was so attractive. Being the one to witness his most vulnerable moments was so amazing, especially when you were responsible.

lying there in complete shock, you were pretty sure everyone on that bus had probably heard the two of you creating a chorus of chaotic love making. But none of it matter. In that room, it was like an entirely different planet where only you both existed and you didn’t want to come back down anytime soon..

brushing your hair off the nape of your neck, he’d place a couple soft kisses on it and your spine before bringing your face back around to let your lips crash together again. The slow kisses after fucking like animals was always the best.

“I love you..” “I love you more..” the words exchanged through pressed lips but you both meant it clear as day. For a minute, he’d just gently caress your back to soothe you. Watching you cry, even if from pleasure didn’t sit right with him! “How you feel? Are you okay?” Whispering against your ear as he gently pecked it. All you could do was giggle because after that, you had no complaints. “Much better now..you?”

and of course, it was no question: “Let’s just say I feel like I can go do a hundred shows now.” Making both of you break into laughter. It seems that your motivation was doing wonders for him.

but first, a little bit of actual sleep wouldn’t hurt! One thing was for sure though..cars, jewelry and bags aside, what you done to and for him and the love you gave was completely priceless. Something not even money could buy.

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bluejayblueskies · 3 months

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Red, White & Royal Blue Rebind

[ID: Eight pictures of a hand-bound rebind of the book "Red, White & Royal Blue." The first shows the cover, which has been bound in light gray bookcloth and is decorated to look like a suit with a union jack tie. There are two cardstock buttons, one that says "Vote Claremont" and the other that says "History, huh?" On the right side, the title "Red, White and Royal Blue" is painted on in red, white, and blue paint respectively. On the left side, the author name "Casey McQuiston" is painted on in white paint. The second shows the spine, covered also in gray bookcloth. It has the title "Red, White and Royal Blue" painted on in red, white, and blue paint respectively and the author name "Casey McQuiston" painted on in white paint. The third shows the book from the top so the headbands, sewn with red, white, and blue thread, can be seen. The fourth shows the title page of the book, which has the title "Red, White and Royal Blue" in red, white, and blue ink respectively, as well as the author name "Casey McQuiston" beneath it. The fifth shows the colophon page (left) and dedication page (right). The colophon has details about the book, as well as the binder logo for Blue Skies Books (a bluejay) and the logo for Renegade Publishing (a bookpress). The dedication page says, "For the weirdos and the dreamers" in a sans serif font above a black and white drawing of a reflective lake with pine trees around it. The sixth shows a chapter header page, which has a gray skyline that merges the skylines of DC and London across the top of it. The word "One" is in all caps in white on the lefthand side of the skyline, and body text is beneath it in a serif font. The seventh shows the inside of the book, drawing attention to the formatting of the emails throughout the book. The emails include icons for both Henry and Alex, email addresses, timestamps, and subjects. The eighth shows the inside of the book, drawing attention to the red, white, and blue heart page divider and the handwriting fonts used within the regular body text for certain words. /End ID]

When the Red, White and Royal Blue movie came out last year, I rediscovered my love for this book and these characters and just had to do a rebind of it! This is a full rebind, so I've done the typeset myself as well as the cover. I had a delightful time coming up with the cover design (I imagine this is modeled after a theoretical Alex suit, though it could be Henry's as well!), and I had an especially fun time doing the typeset. There are so many fun formatting elements in this story, and it was great getting to put my own spin on them.

Logistics-wise, this bind uses Lumeiere fabric paint and a Silhouette-cut stencil for the words, Silhouette-cut cardstock for the decorative elements, handmade cotton bookcloth for the cover, cotton embroidery thread for the endbands, and regular Hammermill cream paper for the textblock. (Once I've saved up for it, I'm looking forward to getting some short-grain textblock paper! This is still long grain.) The body font is Cochin and the title font is Montserrat.

And finally: my bind versus my trade paperback copy!

[ID: A picture of the hand-bound version of "Red, White and Royal Blue" from above held next to the mass-produced paperback version of the same book. They are made in different styles with different color schemes, but both have a fun and slightly whimsical appearance to them. /End ID]

#fanbinding #bookbinding #red white and royal blue #rwrb #jay's bound books

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loquaciousferret · 6 months

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Saints and Sinners

Summary: The yearly Halloween rendezvous with your long-term no-strings lover Joel Miller is set to be shaken up when he invites a third- Javi Peña- to your hotel room.

No-outbreak AU | Joel Miller and Javi Peña existing in the same universe AU

Pairings: Javier Peña x f!reader x Joel Miller

Word Count: 5.7k (whoops)

Warnings below the cut | 18+ Only

Content Warnings: MATURE 18+ Disrespect of religion including the Cross. No real physical description of reader other than female anatomy and she can be lifted by or sit on top of both males. Alcohol consumption, sex whilst under the influence, oral both m and f receiving, facesitting, facefucking, unprotected sex with a stranger, consensual voyeurism and exhibitionism, facial, spitting, degradation, pet names, anal play, MMF threesome, a suggestion of but not actual infidelity, discussion of age gap between the sexual partners.

A/N: Hey homies, I’ve come out of retirement for one day only for halloween (It’s also my birthday) this started off just something hot but accidentally turned fluffy and deep towards the end. Consider that my birthday gift to myself. I hope you enjoy!

You analyse your appearance in the mirror for what might be the hundredth time, straightening the garish crystal-covered cross that hangs on a delicate chain from your neck. The base of it just slightly tucks into the cleavage that is spilling from the top of the satin black mini dress. A few strands of hair peak out from the matching black covering on your head, framing your face perfectly. Sexy nun. What a great Halloween costume. Offensive? Probably. But hot? Definitely.

Joel had texted you a few hours previously with the room number for your usual luxury downtown hotel. 308. Surprise inside. The message had read. A man of few words was Joel Miller, but you didn’t mind. Your annual meeting didn’t need much introduction.

You checked the time on your phone and realised you were in a rush. Your scheduled Uber, the chariot that would deliver you to Joel, would be there in half an hour. You quickly grabbed your bottle of wine, still only half finished, and poured yourself another large glass. After all this time, the nervous butterflies that gathered in your stomach prior to seeing him should have faded, but on the contrary, they seem more powerful each passing year.

By the time you had finished off the bottle you were rushing to cover yourself with a long black coat and put your heels on to head out the door. The nerves had barely subsided and the alcohol only served to hinder your balance as you hurried to the car.

You arrived at the hotel, which you hadn’t visited since this time last year. It was a looming black structure that stood out against the rest of the buildings on the street. Once inside the lobby, it was like you were in another dimension altogether. It was dimly lit and strongly scented with candles and diffusers. It was soundproofed well, to the extent that you would never know you had just stepped off of a busy city street. It was familiar and yet mysterious every time you visited. It certainly wasn’t the sleazy motel you would imagine to typically be used for you and Joel’s purposes. You didn’t know how often other people typically visited hotels. They are usually a place of passing. So, after visiting on the same weekend every year for five years, you felt like perhaps you were a regular.

You spoke to the man at the desk who welcomed you with warm eyes and a kind smile. It was the kind of place where the staff always made you feel important. He handed you a wallet made of thick black card with the hotels gold logo embossed on the front.

“The keycard is just inside. Take the elevator to the third floor and you’ll find 8 on your right.” He says. “And I’m here all night, should you need anything at all.”

“Thank you.” You say, and proceed nervously to the elevator. The hand holding the wallet is actually shaking. Pull it together.

The elevator ride to the third floor is over quicker than you would have liked, and suddenly you are stepping out into a dim corridor. The same thick scent that fills the lobby also lingers here. Deep and musky, like oud, and yet fresh at the same time. The whole thing is a sensory experience.

You turn to find 308 and take deep breaths with each stride. You’re about to see him again. With each year that passes, you always worry things will have changed, and yet they never do. He is always the same Joel, the same scent, the same strong frame, the same quirks in his speech. He is something entirely familiar to you, just as you are to him. Two halves of a pair entirely in tune with one another, able to predict each others every word, every movement. He is the one constant you can always rely on. You just know him.

But when you insert the keycard and let yourself into the room, you are staring into the face of someone entirely unfamiliar.

“Uhh- I-“ You began to stutter. There must have been some mistake, but you don’t know what to say. ‘I’m sorry, I think uh- I-”

“Don’t worry.” He said with a smooth Texan accent. “You’re in the right place. You’re Joel’s girl, right?”

Your eyebrows draw together in confusion as you try to piece it together. The question, asked with such casualness as though he already knew it to be true, was so complicated that you could barely wrap your head round it. You weren’t Joel’s girl, not even close. Why did he think that? How does he know Joel?

Once you looked at him properly, you realised that whilst he was younger, this stranger, his resemblance to Joel other than that was striking. He looked more like him than his own brother. The same hooked nose and serious brow bone, but his hair was shorter and straighter, dark brown not yet peppered with grey like Joel’s. And unlike Joel’s scruff of stubble, this man was clean shaven except for a thick moustache.

So this was the surprise. You realised. Where the hell did he find this guy?

“What is this?” You ask. It came out harsher than you expected and you cringed at yourself for being so rude. But this was not part of the arrangement, and you hadn’t prepared yourself. The butterflies in your stomach swelled painfully.

“I don’t know, sweetheart.” He said. “Some kind of Halloween treat I guess.”

“Is it? Seems like more of a trick to me.”

The man chuckled, unphased by your comment. Whatever this was, well, you had a pretty good guess, and whilst you weren’t against it in theory, you were pissed Joel had pulled something like this. But he always had to change the rules and shock you. It was just part of his addictive game.

The man rose from the comfortable chair in which he had been slouched, thighs wide, manspreading and confidently exposing a bulging package inside his tight jeans. He reached for a bucket containing an expensive champagne, popped it open without any fuss and poured two large flutes full. He held one out for you and you took a tentative step towards him.

“I don’t bite.” He said, flashing a toothy grin that made you doubt his statement.

You took it from him anyway, your hand brushing against his large warm one as you clutched the stem. You took a sip and the warm bubbles floated down your chest and into your stomach, heat radiating where it mixed with the white wine from earlier.

Damn this whole situation, you think, and yet you can’t fool yourself into thinking you won’t do exactly what Joel intended you to do with this guy. When he calls, you answer. When he gives, you take. And when he tricks you into meeting a handsome stranger and screwing him, for whatever reason, you oblige just so.

“So, um…”

“Javi.”

“So, Javi.” You say. “What are you supposed to be dressed as?”

“Uhhh…” He hums as if he hadn’t really thought about it. “A cop.” He says eventually.

“Then where’s your uniform?” You challenge.

“Undercover cop I guess.” He shrugs, smirk plastered on his face. “You on the other hand. You went all out, huh?”

“Oh, this old thing?” You say, running your hand up your side from the hem of the dress to your cleavage, which you lean towards him for a better view.

His tongue flicks out across his lower lip. You giggle and lean back to where you had been sitting before, but he reaches an arm out to wrap around your waist and pull you a little closer towards him.

“How do you know him?” You ask. You don’t want to pry, but if you’re going to let him fuck you, you want at least a few details.

“Uhh…” His responses don’t come easily to any of your questions, as if he is consistently just thinking up answers before offering them. “We met at poker.”

“I didn’t know he gambled.” You say.

Javi looks at you with a quizzical expression, like it was obvious. Like Joel and gambling are synonymous and it wouldn’t make sense not to immediately associate them. It stings for some reason.

“Right.” He says, expression still twisted. “So not his girl then, I guess. Then how do you know him.”

But you hum too while you think of your answer, and so you give Javi some slack for his own hesitation.

“Old friends.” You say simply, giving nothing away. “How did this come about though?”

He laughs a little, ducking his head as if unsure whether to be honest. “A bet.”

“A bet?” Your eyes widen and you respond in shock. You’re rightfully offended by the insinuation, but it doesn’t make you angry. If anything, it sends another aching sensation between your legs. “He- He bet me? You won a bet for me?”

He laughs at that, a proper laugh, like the suggestion itself was downright ridiculous, although you are unsure why. You had considered it a pretty sound conclusion. “Actually, no.” He explains. “It was Joel who won the bet.”

Your eyebrows are drawn together in thought and he smirks as he watches you piece what you can together.

“So…” You say, unsure what to think of it all. “So he really wants us to do this?”

“I guess so.” He says, finishing off his champagne. Yours is empty too and he takes the glass from you, heading back to the desk to find the rest of the bottle. “You want another?” He asks.

You shake your head no and he comes and sits down next to you on the bed again.

“Is he… Is he coming? I mean are we supposed to wait or- or- do we have t-“

He cuts you off and puts a comforting hand on your thigh. “Hey, there is no ‘have to’. Whatever you like. I’m a man of the law, darlin’. I won’t make you.” He pauses just for a beat. “Unless that’s what you’re into.”

You flush at the insinuation, looking away from him. Damn your bashful complexion. Damn Joel for this twisted trick. Damn this handsome dude for making it impossible not to throw yourself into his lap and kiss him.

He responds to you immediately, his hands wasting no time feigning respectfulness before attaching to your ass and groping you through the tightly stretched fabric.

You grind into him as he deepens the kiss, one hand leaving your ass to come round and grip your jaw. The thick denim of his jeans stimulates you through the thin barrier of your underwear.

“Dirty girl.” He says as you speed up your movements, grinding yourself against his growing bulge deliberately to pleasure yourself. “That outfit just pretend or somethin’? Where’d ya learn to do that?”

You don’t speak back and you focus on unbuttoning his shirt instead, not breaking the kiss as you work at the buttons. The alcohol has affected your dexterity and eventually he pulls back and starts undoing them himself. You reach for his belt instead, unclasping it and then pulling down the zip on his jeans.

By then his shirt is off, and you take in the wide expanse of honey skin. He is slimmer than Joel, but still built strong. Lean and toned muscle take the place of Joel’s, which are hardened by life but softened by age. It’s not just the resemblance that had you comparing the two. You compared every lover to Joel. Eventually you just had to stop sleeping with anyone else, because no one measured up. There was simply before Joel, and after Joel. And after Joel, well… nothing else would suffice. Apart from this handsome stranger nominated by Joel personally. That, you were willing to try.

You fumble clumsily with his jeans until he takes over that, too. He grinds his palm into the hard bulge as he does so. You smirk a little when the trail of hair that is peeking out is revealed further, showing he isn’t wearing underwear.

He pushes them down his legs, not bothering to remove them fully, lays backwards, and then his hands are grabbing at your sides and pulling you up further so you are sitting on his stomach.

“You’re just something else, ain’t ya?” He says, his voice thick with desire for you.

You flush and he starts to take apart your costume, removing the head piece and uncovering your hair which remains perfect underneath. Then, he reaches behind you and unzips the dress, his touch gentle but still urgent, fuelled by desire. You raise your arms to let him slide it over your head, exposing your bare chest, and his hands immediately move to cup your breasts, kneading gently and toying with your nipples with his thumbs.

“Look at you…” He coos.

You basked in his attention. He was softer than Joel. Sweeter. Then you scolded yourself for comparing them and tried to enjoy the moment, leaning down to kiss him.

He pushed you away. “Uhuh.”

You frown, but he is quickly grabbing your thighs and pulling you further up his chest towards his face. You let him guide you until you are hovering over him, his mouth kissing at you through your lace underwear.

You let out a desperate sigh and you feel him smirk under you. He presses another few kisses before opening his mouth and dragging his tongue up and down your underwear.

You feel yourself shaking a little already, and you put effort into breathing deeply to avoid pathetically moaning so soon.

You gasp as Javi brings his hand up to your underwear, pulling it aside so his tongue has access to your wet core.

As soon as his tongue connects, he lets out a groan. Your knees shake and whilst you had been trying to hover slightly before, you end up fully sitting on his face. This encourages him even more, sloppily eating you out, his nose brushing your clit. He licks, sucks, and kisses each spot perfectly. His moustache tickles a little and you realise you have never slept with a dude with one before.

“Oh, god-“ You gasp, cutting yourself off with a loud moan. “Javiii-“

He moans into you as he eats you out hungrily, sending vibrations around your aching core.

“Fuck-“ You say. You rip yourself out of his grasp and shuffle down his body where his cock stands, hard and throbbing. You had to stop him before you came all over his face. Joel wouldn’t have appreciated that.

You glide your dripping cunt up and down his shaft, wetting it before rising up on your knees and taking it gently in your hand. You sink down onto it and watch his expression. He grits his teeth in pleasure.

You let it fill you for a moment, not moving while you adjust to his length. He has less girth than Joel, but not much. His length is equal, hitting a spot deep inside you as you gently rock back and forth. Once you are prepared, you start to move, slowly at first, but with gradually increasing pace and force.

Using your hands to help you balance, you start to bounce in a quick rhythm up and down his length. Your tits jiggle in his face, the cross hitting against his lips. He takes it between his teeth and you giggle, your hole fluttering and pulsing as you do so. This causes him to spit it out, his mouth opening in a sensual moan.

“Fuck, baby, you ride this cock so damn good-“ He pants, hands grabbing at your ass greedily, spreading your cheeks and helping you with your momentum as you bounce on his length shamelessly. The praise encourages you to keep trying hard to please him.

Your moans are desperate as you keep going, your head thrown back and your mouth open. Your eyes roll pornographically. When you eventually summon the strength to open them and look down at him, you see him transfixed on you.

“Yeah, yeah just like that.” He grunts, “Fucking ride that dick, baby, yeah. Oh yeah just like that”

You are too wrapped up in the sensations, the sounds, of you and Javi, that you don’t notice the door opening. It’s heavy footsteps on the lush carpet that break you out of your trance. You whip your head round, the motion of your hips not faltering, as you make eye contact with him. Joel. At last.

He smiles a dark smile, his eyes wide as he takes in the scene before him. You realise how depraved it must all be from his perspective, the bejewelled Cross sticking to your tits with sweat as you bounce on this stranger’s cock.

“Don’t be rude, baby.” Are the first words out of his mouth. “Keep your eyes on what you’re doing.”

You break away from looking at him reluctantly, focussing your attention back on Javi, whose head is thrown back into the pillows, mouth falling open and eyes now closed in pleasure. You see sweat glistening on his throat and something urges you to lean down and lick a wide stripe up it, the salty taste beautiful on your tongue.

You try to pay attention to Javi and not let yourself get distracted by Joel’s movements. You hear the splash of liquid into a glass and realise you had observed his favourite whiskey earlier, right next to the champagne bucket. The signs of him had been all over the room already and you hadn’t noticed.

You continue to chase your pleasure, the alcohol supplying you with a rare confidence that left you able to perform for both men with little shame. You slow down your movements, feeling Javi deep inside you and grinding your clit against the dark curls at the base of him. Your moans become louder as you do so, rubbing against him rhythmically until you feel the tension of an orgasm building.

“I’m gonna cum.” You gasp, your voice strained.

“No you’re not.” Says the voice from behind you.

Javi’s eyes are open again, watching you, taking in every expression on your face. He smirks at Joel’s words and grips your thighs, preventing you from moving.

“Please-“ You gasp, unsure which of the two men you are pleading with. Your hips jerk involuntarily to chase the same sensation you had been creating previously but Javi keeps a firm grip on you.

“No. You’re going to step being selfish and ride him like a good girl.” Joel instructs. “And you’re gonna hold it. The only cock you’ll come on will be mine.”

You whimper pathetically, turning your head to look at Joel, who is sitting in the armchair I the corner of the room with a perfect view of the bed, hopeful that your wrecked expression might make him take pity on you.

“What did I tell you about manners already?” He scolds, unmoved by you. “Don’t look at me. Look at him.”

When you do, you find Javi’s expression is amused. He doesn’t add to the exchange, simply observing you and Joel’s dynamic, listening as the other man bends you to his will so easily.

You brace your hands on his chest once again and try to follow Joel’s instruction, abandoning the pleasure you had been giving yourself by grinding on his cock and going back to bouncing on it. You can’t find your rhythm and Javi helps you, thrusting his hips upwards into you.

Joel tuts disapprovingly as he watches, taunting, “You’ve forgotten how to ride a cock properly, huh? Need a lesson?”

You whine in frustration and embarrassment, giving up on your own movements and letting Javi control the pace from under you, rutting up into you with enough force that you still need to grasp at his chest to keep your balance. Your tits align with his face and he reaches up with his mouth to suck at one of your nipples.

You hear Joel moving and before you can wonder what he is doing, there are hands on you. His large palms wrap around your waist from behind, holding you tightly. Javi stops moving and Joel starts to control you, lifting you up and dropping you down harshly onto Javi’s cock. You let out a high pitched moan, to Joel’s displeasure.

“Be quiet.” He says. “This isn’t for you.”

He does it repeatedly, forcing you up and down again and again until you lose all control of your upper body, collapsing back into Joel’s wide frame. You bite your lip to hold back your moans, and then Javi helps you by reaching up and sticking a thumb into your mouth. You suck it obediently and you hear him curse under his breath.

“You gonna show him what else your mouth can do, baby?” Joel growls into your ear.

You nod eagerly and Joel lifts you off of Javi. You whimper, the sensation of being empty is unpleasant. Joel laughs darkly.

“Greedy little cunt.” He says. “Doesn’t wanna go a second without being filled up, huh?”

You ignore his teasing and get onto all fours, crawling between Javi’s legs, knowing that simultaneously, you are giving Joel the perfect view of your wet pussy. But he doesn’t touch you again and you hear his footsteps moving away from the bed. You are disappointed but after being chastised twice for looking at him, you manage to resist that urge and focus on Javi’s cock.

You start with just licking, gathering up the taste of your own juices from his shaft. You moan lightly and feel your pussy throb.

“Such a tease.” Javi says, tangling one hand into your hair. The other tucks behind his own head as he lounges back in the luxurious bedding, the image of nonchalance.

His comment doesn’t stop you, though. This is your style. You lick the tip, swirling round it with your tongue. He chases your mouth with a thrust of his hips but you pull your head back at the same time, stopping him from controlling the pace. He growls in displeasure but you choose to maintain the little semblance of control for a while longer. You replace your tongue with a hand, wrapping it around him and letting your mouth travel lower, teasing his balls with light kitten licks. He groans and you take one into your mouth fully, sucking lightly.

“Jesus-“ He sighs, bucking his hips up again involuntarily. You continue for a moment, swirling your tongue around it as it fills your mouth before releasing it with a pop and swapping the position of your mouth and hands once again.

Your hands massage his balls lightly and you finally take the head of his cock into your mouth. You lower your head slowly, very slowly, until it’s halfway in and hits the back of your throat, before rising off of it again just as slowly. He’s more patient than Joel, who would have put a stop to this much before now.

You do it again, your speed increasing only incrementally. He twitches inside your mouth and you feel his fingers gripping your hair tighter in a sign of his impatience. Soon, the game is up, and he starts forcing your head up and down urgently. You gag and splutter all over his cock but he doesn’t slow down. You are so wrapped up in it, that it takes you a while to register a weight on the bed behind you, until eventually, your attention is grabbed by a hard cock gliding up and down your wet seam.

You moan around Javi’s cock which leads him to relent in his pace a little, choosing to savour the feeling instead.

“Now you remember what I told you.” Joel says. “Don’t take your eyes off him.”

You can’t respond other than to try and nod which leads the tip of Javi’s cock to prod forcefully into the back of your throat. You gag again and feel your hole convulse, Joel grits his teeth.

He presses the tip into you slowly and within just an inch, you are so full. Full of Javi in your mouth and full of Joel now, too. You moan as he pushes further and further in, your sweet sounds sending vibrations around Javi’s cock that have him cursing incessantly.

Joel’s hands reach to take both of your hips and as soon as he has sheathed himself fully, he is pulling out again and setting an aggressive pace. This is his favourite position and you imagine it is only enhanced for him, as it is for you, by seeing your mouth all filled up too, rendering you incapable of speech, locked in place between the two men.

He hammers into you and you lose control, the blowjob becoming messier, spit dribbling all down Javi’s cock so that it is sliding in and out of your throat with little resistance. Neither of them limit the harshness of their actions, Joel pounding into your cunt and Javi into your throat. The sensation is unlike anything you have ever felt. You don’t think you can get any fuller until you feel Joel’s wet thumb prodding at your ass.

You cry out as he slips it inside you. He groans, low and satisfied. “You like that baby, huh? You like us taking up every single one of your slutty holes? Filthy whore that you are. Jesus-“

You moan at his words and Javi starts to twitch inside your mouth. He pulls your mouth off of him suddenly, not wanting to finish yet. You lower your head turning your cheek so that it rests on his thigh, your back arching in an extreme fashion. He just watches, rubbing himself gently as Joel continues to abuse both of your holes from behind.

Then eventually he pushes you off of him and moves, your eyes are closed but Joel watches what he is doing as he gets off the bed and stands at its edge, pumping his cock in his hand. Joel manoeuvres you so you are facing Javi again.

“Can I come in her mouth?” Javi asks Joel.

Joel lets out a mean laugh. “You don’t have to ask that, man. What else is a whore’s mouth good for?”

You whimper, your cunt throbbing and pulsing around Joel, unbelievably turned on by hearing them talk about you, not to you, like you aren’t even the third participant in this event.

Javi rubs his cock over your face, your cheeks, slapping at your chin with it. Just because he can. Your mouth falls open and he feeds the tip to you slowly, giving you a false sense of security before roughly slamming in the rest of the length. It forces you backwards, impaling you harder on Joel’s cock and the now two fingers which are exploring your asshole.

You feel as though you are the rope in some sick game of tug of war, the way the two of them pass you back and forth between them. Eventually you can’t even separate the sensations both men are giving you and you are left weak and boneless, just moving with the hammering tide that pulls you in and pushes you away again and again.

It’s Javi’s pace that falters first, moans and expletives escaping from his lips until his salty hot load fills your mouth. He half pulls out and spills the remainder over your cheeks and nose. It drips all over your face and he holds you up by your chin. His thumb drifts over the hot spend and directs it towards you mouth. You swallow it all and suck his fingers clean.

“Jesus, I could watch that all day.” He says. But he doesn’t, and he walks away from you after only a brief few seconds. With Javi satisfied, Joel flips you over so you are on your back. He lifts your feet, placing both ankles on his shoulders, ploughing you harder than you thought possible. You had imagined he was fucking you full force before, but like always, he ends up having just that little bit more to give.

You moan and whine helplessly, his pace unrelenting and his stamina downright cruel. You are unable to open your eyes, absolutely exhausted from him and Javi’s treatment. He doesn’t mind, satisfied with your performance already and happy to use you for his pleasure when you are in this state, soft and pliable to his every will. You vaguely register the sound of the door opening and then closing, the two men offering noncommittal farewells to one another.

“Oh, my baby.” Joel is whispering gently. “You did so well for me. You impressed me so much, sweetheart, I’m so proud of you.”

His rambling seems to go on for a long while, but then again, you don’t know how much of a concept of time you even have left. Some of his words seem distant, like they’re coming to you through a filter. Some of them are so unbelievable that you discount them as just being part of a dream.

“I’m so proud of you, my sweet girl. Always so good for me. Always do so well for me. My sweet baby.”

He must think you’re asleep, talking like this. You still aren’t entirely convinced you are awake either.

Your name falls from his lips like a prayer as he finishes inside you. You think he holds you like that for longer than usual, until he is completely soft and slips out of you, both his and your juices leaking onto the bed. He cleans you up and he kisses you. He kisses you everywhere, your face, your neck, your chest, down your stomach. You keen towards him unconsciously, weak hands grabbing at whatever part of him you can reach and ending up tangled in the curls at the nape of his neck.

“What am I gonna do with you, my girl? Hmm?” He hums into the crook of your neck.

You must have fallen asleep, although you’re not sure for how long. When your eyes flutter open, it’s still dark, and you register a weight in the bed next to you. You turn towards it.

Joel’s eyes are already open and he is gazing at you intently.

“Hi.” He says.

“Hey.” You say. You can’t help the word from trailing off into a giggle. He renders you downright stupid.

He reaches out a hand to your cheek and strokes it with the pad of his thumb, before moving to push some hair behind your ear with his other fingers. These are his rare affectionate gestures, and whilst you aren’t experiencing them for the first time, they certainly aren’t frequent.

“It’s been a long year.” He says.

You never talk about the time you spend apart. All that matters is the precious, no, sacred, time that you do get together.

“It always is, for me.” You say. He tenses a little in response and you curse yourself silently for having said too much.

To your relief, he relaxes again and pulls your body closer to him. Warmth radiates from the place where your head meets his broad chest. He kisses into the top of your head, inhaling deeply the scent of your shampoo. It’s coconut. He kisses you again and again.

Suddenly, he speaks.

“I don’t know if I can do this again.” He says.

You freeze up. A chill runs down your spine. He wants to break off the arrangement? Somehow you feel blindsided, even though every year the possibility crosses your mind that he’ll finally do it.

Maybe that’s why he brought you Javi. Maybe he thought you would hit it off and you could just move on with him, offered up to you like meat on a platter for your own convenience. Your mind runs through the last few hours in an instant, looking for any sign, any hint from Joel that was this coming. You find none.

He, blissfully unaware of every thought racing around your head, continues, rubbing salt in the wound.

“I just- I just don’t think I can do it again. I’m sorry.” He repeats.

Your heart is racing, your stomach doing backflips. This was inevitable. He’s probably met someone else. Someone who he wants more from than what he wants from you. Someone his own age who thinks the same things he does. Someone who understands the references and jokes that fly over your head. Someone who is the opposite of everything that you are insecure about. Someone powerful and equally matched for him.

But then he speaks again, quieter this time. “Listen baby, the waiting it’s just- I can’t do it anymore. How could one night a year ever be enough? I need ‘em all.”

Oh my god. You honestly thought you must have been dreaming for a moment, unable to process his words and reconcile them with actual reality.

He is silent for a long while and you realise he must be waiting on a response, but you can’t find words.

“I- I-“

You hesitate and he cuts you off. His voice is guarded now.

“No, yeah. You don’t have to explain. It’s whatever. I figured you must have someone else anyway. Didn’t wanna assume but… Yeah. It figures.”

“No.” You say quickly. “There’s no one else. There hasn’t been anyone else for- for years.”

A silence grows again. And eventually, you are first to fill it.

“How could there be anyone else?” You say. “I just stopped trying to find anyone else. It’s always been you for me, Joel. No point trying to fight that.” Your voice trails off to a whisper.

He puts a thumb under your chin, raising it so your eyes meet his for the first time during the exchange. His brown irises sparkle, lighter than you have ever seen them. He presses his lips to yours and kisses you desperately, muttering practically intelligibly about “My baby. God why didn’t I just ask sooner? My sweet baby. All mine.”

You drift off to sleep again, a tangle of limbs, breathing each other in. You don’t know what will happen in the morning, but at least you know that this time, it won’t be a year until you see Joel again.

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