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atticrissfinch · 6 months

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In the Next Room | (joel miller x fem!reader) (oneshot) (18+)

Masterlist | Ko-fi pairing: neighbor’s fuckbuddy!joel miller x fem!reader summary: When the peace and quiet of your apartment is disturbed by the noisy escapades of the couple in the neighboring unit, you find yourself entranced by the mystery man on the other side of the wall. And when you stumble upon him on a dating app…well, it might just be fate. warnings/tags: [18+ MINORS DNI] no!outbreak, age gap (Joel is 48, reader is under 29), v mild dom!joel, slight voyeurism, joel just straight slutting and whoring it up but…like…in a charming way, masturbation (f), daddy!kink, a looootta size!kink, dirty talk, a liiittle bit of sexting, one (1) swat to the ass, minor degradation!kink, praise!kink, spitting, fingering, oral (m & f receiving), mild deepthroating, irresponsible unprotected piv, creampie, brief cockwarming, Joel Miller: DILF Extraordinaire even without a kid at home, a teensy weensy bit of ddlg-esque infantilization but nothing extreme, joel and reader just being feral and adorable w each other and having a jolly good ol’ time, reader has hair and is lifted onto a counter sry. word count: ~11.5K | ao3 a/n: I was chatting with daddy chloe @chloeangelic and she mentioned she knew someone who found out her fuckbuddy was also fucking her neighbor and I said…hold on. Huge idea. So this lovely fic was born. I really love these two and I did not expect it to be this fun and cute and sexy, so I hope you enjoy! title is from In the Next Room by Neon Trees, which I highly recommend you give a listen to. s/o to @saradika for the gorgeous divider ♥️

Taglist Update: This will be my last time using my taglist! For future updates people follow @atticrissfinchupdates 💖

If you only knew

How hard it is to handle

How bad I want this scandal

Oh, I lose control

When I hear your body move

Through the walls in the next room

One thing you’ve really come to appreciate about your new apartment is how quiet your neighbors are. You’ve only been here for about 3 months, but in comparison to your last apartment, the noise level might as well be nonexistent. No persnickety old lady raising hell over the dodgy as fuck elevator by the stairs, no screaming three-year-old behind the door across the hall, no meathead grunting out his squats at 5 AM in the neighboring unit. Just a mild-mannered elderly couple across the way and a cute, perky woman, probably in her 30s, in the apartment to your left. It’s been a silent paradise so far, and you couldn’t be more grateful.

Until tonight.

It started off with tampered whimpers, then what sounded like moaned “oh, fuck”s, and finally graduated to a thumping bedframe and a woman screaming. Your next-door neighbor, you gather pretty quickly. And not just wordless screams, very colorful screams.

“Fuck, baby!”

“Oh, shit, Joel! So fucking big!”

“I can’t! Too fucking big, please!”

The headboard on the other side of the drywall knock-knock-knocks against your shared wall where your own headboard stands pathetically dormant in contrast.

You hear an unintelligible response to her cries in the cadence of a deep, rumbling voice. You’re a sucker for a deep voice, you always have been, and it sounds like the girl next door is having exactly the kind of night you wish you were having.

“No, fuck, don’t stop! Just so fucking big, Joel!”

The voice rumbles again with a silky lilt to it, and for some unknown reason, you find your eyes drifting closed and your mind filling in the gaps you can’t quite hear.

I know it’s big, baby, but you can take it.

Such a good girl for me.

Feel so tight around this fat cock, baby.

Without even having put thought into it, you discover your hand has snaked its way under your panties and is already massaging circles around your clit. Your mouth drops open in a gasp when you slick up your fingers with the evidence of your arousal and you get the rhythm just right against the bundle of nerves pulsing between your legs.

You thrust up into your hand to the tempo of the headboard crashing into the wall, straining your ear to try and catch even the faintest glimpse of the actual words the man is feeding to her as he pounds her into the mattress.

You’re blessed when his voice raises for a single phrase, a passionate aggression behind his words.

“Yeah, fuckin’ take it for me .”

The words have you bucking into your hand, a moan crackling in your throat, and your fingers picking up speed. Your ears take it upon themselves to filter out the shrieking voice of your neighbor and solely hone in on the husky tones of the man. You imagine he’s older, large and imposing, with hands that dwarf yours as his fingers slip in the spaces between your own and restrain them above your head as his huge cock wreaks havoc on your insides.

It’s been months since you've been laid, months since you’ve even had a single viable candidate in this new city. It’s not a stretch to claim that you’re fucking desperate, hence your hand taking residence in your underwear and getting off to the auditory scraps granted to you by this mystery man.

The woman’s voice breaks through your selective hearing barrier.

“Fuck, I’m coming, Joel!”

And he bestows his heightened voice on you once more as he replies.

“I know, sweet girl, I know. I’m so fuckin’ close, baby, where do you want it? ”

You shut out the woman’s voice again in favor of embarrassingly whimpering out loud to your empty room, “Inside, please, daddy.”

You hear a guttural grunt, and you picture your faceless man’s hips stuttering into you as he fills you up with all he has to give you. You gasp as your orgasm floods through you, shooting warmth through your limbs and sparks through your brain as your hand slows to a stop. You pant as you feel the faint pulsing of your clit under your fingertips, and both the couple and the furniture in the next room fall silent.

Your unsoiled hand reaches up to cover your face, dragging down it as you come to terms with what you just did.

Fuck, you need to get laid.

–

You’ve been rotting in bed all morning, taking full advantage of your peaceful Saturday with no obligations. You scroll mindlessly on your phone as a notification pops up indicating that a package you were expecting was dropped off at your door. You groan, relishing the precious moments in your soft fortress of sheets, and roll lethargically out of bed. You throw on a pair of leggings to cover your bottom half and straighten your mussed camisole to ensure all nipples are accounted for within the confines of the fabric from a night of tossing and turning. You perform a solid full-body stretch, feeling your joints pop faintly and pleasantly as you pad to your front door.

As you pull it open, you bend over to grab the small box, just as the door to your left swings open. You swivel your head to see a man, a large, older man, stepping out the door and pulling it shut behind him. As you snap upright, the man startles, a hand flying over his heart in surprise.

“Jesus, you scared me,” He drawls with a small grin gracing his scruffy–fuck, beautiful –face.

After a few moments, you realize that you’re just fucking gawking at him. “I’m so sorry! Didn’t mean to!”

He chuckles, a gorgeous little sound from plush lips, and gives a courteous shake of his head. “All good. Hope you got somethin’ excitin’ there.”

You blink, a quizzical look on your face before you process what he said. “Oh! The package. Not really, just a new milk frother. Gotta have those homemade lattes, you know?” You say with a short laugh, cringing internally at how awkward you’ve suddenly become around this man. Are you really this out of practice with flirting? Not even flirting, just human interaction itself?

The man shrugs, his smile still in place. “More of a black coffee man, myself.”

“Bold,” You attempt to tease, nodding your head. “Need all the energy you can get after a night like that, I suppose,” You say a bit boldly yourself, gesturing to the door he just came out of.

His eyes widen a little, a pale flush entering his cheeks as he gives an uncomfortable cough into his fist. “Uh, ‘s-’scuse me?”

Your eyes widen in response when your brain catches up with what your mouth just ran away with. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I just, uh…had a bit of a front-row…ear to your activities last night. Walls are a little thin,” You clench your teeth in a show of shared embarrassment, jabbing your thumb over your shoulder toward your own apartment.

The blush intensifies on his cheeks as he gives an uncomfortable laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “Shit. I, uh, I’m sorry about that. We, uh, we’re usually over at my place, but I found a termite infestation in my house, and it’s being tented right now, and I’m stuck over at my brother’s place, and…I don’t know why I’m tellin’ a complete stranger all my business, but. Anyway, we’re usually over at mine. I’m sorry for the, uh, ruckus,” He rambles, burying his largelargelarge hands into his jean pockets and rocking on his heels. “We’ll be back at mine next time, so. Won’t happen again.”

You nod, only half hearing what he’s rambling about as your concentration is taken out at the knees the more you hear him speak, the more his voice washes over you like a cool splash of water, the more your brain sees fit to supply you with a plethora of disgusting things that voice could divulge to you that you didn’t conjure up last night, this time with his voice in crystal clear high definition and not muffled by anything other than possibly your hair or your skin or your lips on his mouth.

The throbbing between your thighs has your confidence climbing, elevated by your attraction to this complete stranger as he’d referred to you. “Sure sounded like you gave her a good time in there.”

“I-I don’t know about all that,” He laughs awkwardly again, the blush bleeding down his neck.

“I mean, she sure had a lot to say about, uh, what you had to offer,” You babble, feeling your cheeks heat up, but unable to shut yourself up. “Sounds like she was struggling a bit.”

The man’s eyes dodge yours with a fervent dedication, flustering his words as he excuses the accusations. “Nah, she uh…she…she was just talkin' up my ego. You know how it is,” He stammers.

“I don’t know, must be a pretty good actress from what I heard. I’ve never been able to fake it that hard. Sounded pretty real to me…Joel, is it? Did I hear that right?”

“Damn, I, uh, yeah. Yes. Joel. Miller,” He introduces himself stiltedly, holding out a hand and then staring at it like he’s shouting in his head, what the fuck are you doing?

You take his hand for a single shake, gifting him your own name in return. His handshake, though short, is sturdy, mildly calloused against the back of your palm, like he works with his hands. As your mind digs its claws into you with ideas of what exactly he could do with those hands, they fall away from each other, and you occupy the absence by gripping the frame of your doorway.

“Well, uh, it was nice meetin’ you. I-I promise we won’t disturb your peace again,” He says with a resolute nod.

“No biggie,” You reply, doing your best to sound casual and, if you’re honest, not discourage him from putting on another show for you to get off to.

He gives one more jerky nod and heads for the elevator, rubbing his flushed neck as he goes. You grab your package and scurry into your apartment, shutting the door firmly behind you and drooping back against it.

Stupid stupid stupid.

Hot hot hot.

Fuck.

–

That evening, the solution to your growing problem seems relatively obvious as you mull over your actions from last night and this morning. Your need to have the shit fucked out of you is reaching a fever pitch, and the easiest, most logical conclusion is to dust off the dating apps burning a hole through your phone.

So you settle in against your pillows with a large glass of rosé and open up an app.

You won’t lie, things are looking pretty bleak.

You must swipe past thirty mediocre men, only doling out one or two right-swipes among the lefts.

And then you feel your stomach swoop.

You know that face. Time could jettison you forward forty years into the future and you would still know that face. The way it blossomed with red at your comments, the way thick fingers scratched at the scruff adorning it, the way the lines by his eyes crinkled in bashfulness.

And then there’s his name, locking your suspicions in concrete.

Joel. Age 48. 7 Miles away.

Bio: Just a simple guy, looking for fun, but we’ll see how things go.

You scroll through his photos, a random selection of snippets from his life. One with a beer in his hand at the beach, his toes in the sand. Another with his face shaded by a ball cap, squinting at the photographer to his left as he sits with a fishing pole cast into a lake. His arm around a man roughly the same height and age range, some shared facial features, matching smiles–a brother, maybe. A suggestive selfie in his bed, sheets tucked below his pecs, eyes bleary with sleep accompanied by a soft smile and messy curls.

Easiest swipe right of your life.

Another pang alights in your stomach when you’re instantly met with the little “matching” animation, clinking your two profile pictures together with a heart.

Your tongue darts across your lips as you sit up straighter, wine sloshing in your glass until you steady it with another sip. Your standard protocol is to wait for the guy to message first, but your eagerness gets the better of you. You don’t even wait a few minutes to be coy, you just go full-send.

You: Fancy seeing you on here…

Fully expecting to wait a minute for a response, you take a deep breath and burrow into your pillows again. But you get a notification almost instantly.

Joel: I was thinking the same thing… Joel: Feels somethin like kismet, or whatever they call it

A smile breaks against your cheeks, and you bite into your knuckle to stop yourself from just straight-up squealing.

You: They do call it that, from what I hear 🤭

This time he doesn’t respond immediately, and your teeth begin to tug at your lower lip as you watch the stagnant chat thread.

And then a possible reality smacks you in the face.

What if this man is taken? What if your neighbor is his girlfriend and he’s still creeping for girls on dating apps?

The fluttering in your stomach starts to take a sour turn, worrying your lip further as you await his reply. What if they’re together right now, and he can only respond when she’s distracted?

Another message pops up.

Joel: A little like kismet that we met in the hallway i’d say too. Same place, same time and all

You take a breath and decide to just cut through the bullshit as early as possible before your thoughts truly run away from you.

You: Speaking of. I’m gonna be honest. If that’s your girlfriend that lives next to me, I’m gonna have to enact Girl Code and let her know I saw you on here. Because that shit is not cool.

You send it before you can talk yourself out of it, and close out of the app as soon as it’s out of your hands. You down what remains of your wine and place the empty glass on your nightstand, but your attention springs back to your phone as it buzzes again. You brace yourself for his panic or defense and open the message.

Joel: lol well you can put down your pitchfork and reshelve the sacred “Girl Code”. Trish and I are strictly casual. By her own insistence matter a fact. You can ask her if you don’t believe me

You sigh a breath of relief and tap out a response.

You: Really? You: Guess I just have a hard time believing that any woman could turn down that face

He responds immediately again.

Joel: Well now you got me blushin again. Thank you darlin

You: At least I can rule you out as “stupid enough to cheat on your gf by trolling dating apps with your full face on display”

Joel: Haha no ma’am. I’m an honest man. Only cheat at Go Fish and Yahtzee and it’s been an age since I cast my hand at either.

You: Well now I know what to watch out for 😜

You stretch your legs out under your sheets, feeling giddy that the banter is coming so easily after your awkward conversation earlier today.

You: How’s the whole tenting situation going?

Joel: Got back in this morning. House successfully fumigated. Termite threat hopefully neutralized. Fingers crossed.

You: Lucky Trish

You nibble on the side of your thumb as you wistfully beg him to take the bait.

He does.

Joel: Could be your luck too… Joel: If you want

You suddenly very much regret consuming half a bottle of rosé.

You could invite him over here, but that would be especially cruel. Unequivocally against Girl Code to fuck the man you literally met because your neighbor is also fucking him in the apartment next to you, in the apartment next to her the very next night. That’s some twisted, reverse Uno shit, and you have no desire to tempt fate or karma with that nonsense.

You: Unfortunately I’m a little intoxicated right now. And I don’t want to invoke the wrath of an otherwise peaceful neighbor by stealing her fuck buddy from right under her nose and then rubbing said nose in it by making her listen lol

At severe risk of coming off as uninterested, you quickly follow up.

You: Maybe tomorrow? I’m free all day. Would love to see what all the fuss was about last night.

He surprises you, his next response coming in the form of a short voice memo. You practically tangle your fingers into knots in your effort to smash Play.

That dripping, syrupy Southern drawl echoes out of your phone speaker.

“That’s a real shame, darlin’. But I’m free all day too. I’d love to show you…what was it you said? What I ‘have to offer’?”

The message cuts off just after a delicious little chuckle, and you stare daggers at your wine glass. Fucking bullshit little cockblocker.

You decide it’s only fitting to respond with a memo of your own, dipping your voice a little lower, more sultry to the best of your ability.

“I think I’d love that. I could come over at noon. You could have me for lunch.”

Before you can second-guess, the memo slips from your fingers and straight to Joel’s phone.

Joel: Damn. Joel: I’ll put on my bib. Got a feeling i’m gonna need it.

Your cheeks heat at the insinuation, and you sneak a hand underneath your panties to assess whether he’s right.

And, fuck, he is. You’re practically swimming in your own arousal at the mere thought of Joel being a live outlet for your pent-up sexual energy. You moan as your fingers graze your clit, but you pull them out before you lose yourself too much.

In a display of what you can only describe as bravery on your part, you aim your camera at your two soaked fingers, spreading them slowly until your slick is webbed thickly between them, translucent and alluring. Before the viscous threads break, you focus the frame and snap the photo. Caution to the wind once more, you send it off to Joel.

No more than a minute later, another voice memo pops up for your listening pleasure.

His voice sounds significantly more wrecked this time.

“God fuckin’ damn, babygirl. Better save some of that for me. By the time I get my mouth on you, I’m gonna be fuckin’ famished .”

You toy with your wet fingers, only pausing a moment before slipping them between your lips and sucking off the evidence of your attraction, moaning into your empty room at the heady taste, knowing Joel will be drinking it right from the source tomorrow.

You start another voice memo.

“Lucky for you, I just did some quality assurance on your meal for tomorrow. A little taste test. I think it’ll meet your expectations. Maybe even exceed them.”

Joel responds quickly with his own memo, the message starting with a groaning sigh that is quite possibly the sexiest thing you’ve ever heard until you hear what he has to say next.

“Shit, babygirl. So proud of you, bein’ so thorough for me.”

You swear you can feel the serotonin flooding your brain at his praise, only increased when he sends a short follow-up memo.

“Such a good girl for daddy.”

A shot of arousal pulses through your cunt at that word and you feel like this shit is too good to be true. At the risk of saying something stupid, you opt to just send a no-frills text back.

You: Fuck.

You already feel like you can just hear that decadent, dirty little chuckle from that first voice memo in response to your message.

Joel: Night, babygirl. See you at noon.

A text with his address tags along after. You paste it into your GPS app. Seven miles away.

You laugh, almost incredulously, to yourself.

Fucking kismet.

It takes you mere minutes to get yourself off after.

Once the haze has lifted, you’re on your wobbly feet, planning your outfit for Joel to take off tomorrow.

—-

The summer breeze fiddles with the hem of your skirt, probably too short to be wearing in any kind of windy weather, but you know what you’re about today. High hemlines, low necklines, a necklace with a tiny charm positioned at the crest of your cleavage to draw the eye, just in case he’s not the red-blooded straight American male you’ve tapped him to be.

You fidget with your dress as you make your way up Joel’s driveway, cross-checking the address number in the text with the one on the front of his house in tarnished gold numerical plates. When you’re confident you’re in the right place, you step up onto the porch, taking a deep breath before knocking on the front door.

The varnished wood creaks open moments later, revealing Joel in all his scruffy, broad glory. He’s in a basic white tee, jeans, and thick socks, and that shit has never looked so tantalizing to you, biceps straining the elastic on his tight shirt sleeves.

“Hi there,” He drawls, taking you in from head to foot and back again. You smile, doing your best to swallow the catastrophic levels of animal attraction you feel to this man just from the first glance.

He holds the door open for you and you step inside. Your first thoughts are that the home is cozy. Lived in. Picture frames on the walls of people you don’t recognize save for the ones featuring the owner of the home. A living room shooting off from the foyer with appropriately dingy couches and throw blankets strewn across them. A carpeted wooden staircase in the entryway leading to the upper level and a hallway that’s a straight shot into the homey kitchen.

It feels…like a home. But a home that has had more than one resident. You decide to delve into that at a later date.

Joel clicks the door shut behind you as you slip off your sandals and he takes your hand in his, holding it out to get the full effect of you. He pipes out a wolfish whistle as he admires your dress, the drape of it over your body.

“You are a picture, darlin’.”

“Thanks,” You mutter, fighting off the urge to succumb to your self-consciousness. “But if I’m a picture, you’re the whole fucking photo album.”

Joel tuts at you. “Don’t you start an argument about who’s the better lookin’ one of the two of us, ‘cause a bastard just might spend the rest of the day makin’ his case,” He counters with a crooked smile, petting the back of your hand with his thumb before placing a kiss to it.

“What a gentleman,” You say, an airy affect to your voice helping to mask the catching of your breath in your throat at first the touch of his lips to your person.

“Do what I can,” He chuckles, letting your hand fall, but linking a large pinky with yours as you meander down the hall. It feels strangely intimate, yet somehow settles the subtle shake in your fingers.

“Your home is lovely. Very warm. Welcoming.”

“I like to think that’s mostly my charming demeanor,” He flirts, peeking over at you as you both enter the kitchen. “Get you a drink?”

“No, I’m okay,” You throw over your shoulder as your pinkies lose contact and you wander around the kitchen island. He leans back against the counter, arms loose across his chest as he tracks your movements around his space. That feels intimate too, the casual scrutiny.

You run your hands over the clean counters, your curiosity peaking when you come across a hodge-podge of odds and ends scattered on the laminate. Screws, drillbits, drywall anchors, and a myriad of other bits and bobbles you don’t know the technical terms for.

You nudge one of the screws and send it rolling towards the backsplash. “Handyman, huh?”

“Somethin’ like that,” He affirms, glancing down at his arms and then back up at you. “I’m a, uh, contractor. My brother and I, we run a ragtag little outfit. Oversee a handful of guys. Got work all over the valley.”

“So good with your hands,” You nod with a flirtatious little smirk.

Joel gives a small laugh. “Reckon so, I guess.”

“Work on anything exciting?”

He shrugs. “Here and there. Mostly just internal construction for new small businesses in the area. Sometimes homes, kitchen remodels, that kinda thing.”

“You build this one?”

“Actually didn’t. Just ‘cause I got the know-how don’t make it easier to get all the proper permits and land and shit to build my own. And was still raisin’ a kid on my lonesome at the time. Less hassle to just buy. Did do my brother Tommy’s place though. Let him handle all the bureaucratic shit.”

You hum in understanding. “He the guy in your profile photo?”

“The very same,” He confirms with a dip of his head.

“Hmm,” You muse, the passive revelation he just dropped not at all lost on you. “A kid, huh? So, you’re, like, a proper DILF then.”

He chuckles, eyes downcast with a dash of that sheepishness. “Dunno about that. She’s long gone out the house by now.”

“How old?”

“Uh, she’ll be 29 come this December.”

“Oh. Damn.”

“What?”

“Older than me.”

His eyes pop. “Shit.”

You see a kind of cast fall over his face, like a cloud drifting its way past the sun, and you feel a twinge of guilt for digging that up. But something tells you there’s something about that concept he’s intrigued by, aroused by. He’s not blind, he knows you’re young. He knows how old his daughter is, what she looks like at her age. Maybe just didn’t quite put two and two together until you emphasized it.

You saunter toward him, your teeth sliding against your lower lip as you rest your hands on the counter at either side of him, feeling the heat of his skin radiating on your own and intent on waving off the cloud over his expression to bring back that sun.

“Good thing I like that sorta thing, I guess. Daddy…” You let that final world melt off your tongue as you look up at him, the solar flare in his eyes a perfect match for yours.

Joel’s chest rises as he inhales, blowing it out in a measured stream through his lips and shaking his head at you as his hands navigate their way to your sides, curling into the thin, stretchy cotton of your dress. “Oh, you little devil. Don’t go teasin’ me with that. Can’t be held responsible for what I do with it.”

“What?” You tease, fingertips tracing the softness giving way to muscle beneath the flimsy material of his t-shirt. “You ashamed to be putting the moves onto someone younger than your kid?”

Joel just shakes his head again, exhaling through his nose as it points to the floor. “Just makes me feel like a dirty old man.”

“Mmm,” You croon, tucking a finger under his chin and coaxing him to look at you. “But you are a dirty old man. Desperate to slide into some young, hot pussy. For a pretty little thing to call you ‘daddy’ while you do it.”

“Fuck…” He rolls off his tongue as his eyes squeeze shut and his head droops back.

“Does Trish call you daddy, too?”

Joel’s head plops back down, conflict warring on his features at the mention of your neighbor while you’re both tiptoeing dangerously close to the edge. “Shit, baby. You can’t—”

“Does she?”

He sighs, his pivoting pupils searching yours before answering, “No. She doesn’t.”

You pull a raspy little sound from your throat as you inch your face closer to his, but taking care that you can still study all of his wrinkles and micro-expressions.

“But that’s what you want. Isn’t it,” You state with no room for argument. “You want me to call you my daddy. Let you fuck me while I whisper it in your ear. And fall apart on your cock with it on my lips, where your come will probably be soon after.”

Your lips ghost over his, and you can see the shimmer in his brown irises, the sparkle of every last filthy thing he wants to subject you to for the good of his own pleasure. As you speak again, your lips brush against his, and you tilt your head back enough to capture his eyes.

“Now, which set of lips that ends up being, I’ll leave up to you.”

The tension snaps like the bite of a rubber band, and you gasp in shock as Joel’s hand flies up to your jaw, fingers squeezing your cheeks until your mouth is in a pout.

“Said you wanted to see if your neighbor was all talk, didn’t ya?”

He all but forces you to nod your head with his hand as you blink rapidly, him nodding along with you with his own head, almost mockingly so with you in his unyielding clutches.

“Yeah? So how’s about you stop runnin’ that pretty mouth, get on your knees, and find out for yourself.”

He maintains his grip on your face as you lower obediently to your knees, your hands slipping down the panes of his body as you go, until they sit at his thighs and you’re sat on your heels with Joel leaning slightly over you to maintain his hold in the new position.

“Good girl. Open your mouth. Stick out your tongue.”

With him already pressing your cheeks together, your mouth pops open with little effort, your tongue following suit. You detect movement inside his mouth, and then he’s hovering over your face with a glint in his eyes. A thick strand of saliva drips from his mouth directly onto your waiting tongue.

You let out a brief, open-mouthed whimper as the fluid hits your tastebuds, but stay put as his spit trickles to the back of your mouth.

“How does daddy taste, babygirl? Good?”

You nod assuringly, the saliva pooling at the back of your throat.

“Such a good girl. Now swallow for daddy.”

You do so eagerly, closing your mouth to swipe your tongue against the roof and push every drop down your throat, before opening back up for him in a display of subservience.

Joel’s thumb tamps down on your tongue, stroking with minor pressure over the muscle with something like a proud smirk. “So obedient. Daddy likes that. ‘Specially when you were so mouthy a second ago.”

“I’m versatile,” You manage to enunciate with Joel manipulating your face to his liking.

“Yes, you are,” Joel praises, eyes flitting back and forth between your mouth and your blown out pupils. Without any preface this time, he shoots another wad of spit directly to the back of your mouth, and you gulp it down with as much relish as the first. Joel exhales a laugh and descends on you, slotting his mouth against yours with a decadent moan, his tongue dragging against yours as if to say good job.

You laugh into it a little bit, tangling your fingers into the hair at the back of his neck to hold him to you. He tastes fresh, like cold water and toothpaste and something else that seems to be uniquely Joel.

His kiss is commanding. Domineering in a manner that’s almost passive, intuitive. He leads, you follow. You hear the jingling of a belt, and your lips already feel plump and debauched from his tongue and teeth. When he breaks apart from you, it’s to lay his forehead against yours, peering directly into the insatiable avarice that he’s provoked inside you in an unprecedented amount of time.

You hear the grate of his zipper as he lures you in further with a teasing, “Now how’s about we see just what you can offer me .”

He pulls you in for one last tongue-caressing kiss, leaving you breathless as he props his elbows onto the counter to his back, an impressive bulge protruding within his boxer-briefs though the undone fly of his jeans.

“Right here in your kitchen?”

“Right here in my goddamn kitchen. ‘S where we eat all our meals,” Joel informs with a shade of seriousness, reaching down to pinch your chin in his fingers and successfully enrapturing your attention. “You be a good girl and choke down what daddy gives ya. Then daddy’ll have his fill. Unpack that little lunchbox you brought just for him, spread you out over the counter so he can feast as he pleases. And then he’ll pack it right back up for you, ‘cause he knows how hungry you are, huh?”

You whine from your throat and nod, “Yes, daddy.”

“That’s daddy’s good girl,” He coos. “Now take it out. Tell daddy if it’s gonna fill you up as full as you thought.”

When your hands come up to curl around the band of his boxers there’s a swirling of anticipation in your belly. You draw the suspense out for yourself, keeping your eyes on Joel’s as you tug down, his shaft bobbing in your periphery. And fuck, even just at the edge of your vision, you can tell he is impressive.

“Go on and look, babygirl. He’s all ready for ya.”

You indulge yourself then, drinking in the sight, the size of him. He’s thick, girth like you’ve never seen before on a normal person who doesn’t pull his cock out for cash. He’s long, too. Swathes of skin bulging with purple-blue veins over the rock-hard swell of him, culminating at a plump, dark red tip that’s already weeping for you.

Your mouth is far ahead of you, saliva flooding from under your tongue to signal up to your brain, I’m so fucking ready.

You subconsciously lick your lips, earning a fleeting laugh from Joel above you. “Whaddya think? Look like it’ll make a good snack ‘fore we get to the main course?”

There’s a severe lack of eloquence being crafted in your mind, forcibly being shoved out in favor of Joel. Big. Joel. Big. Lick. Taste.

Before you can filter it out, you just blurt out, “Big.”

That makes Joel chime a laugh again. “Very astute. What a smart girl daddy’s got here.”

“You were being modest outside my apartment,” You point out with a smirk. “You’re proud of how big you are.”

“Lotta talkin’ goin’ on here, babygirl,” Joel chides, wrapping a hand around the base of his cock that somehow only serves to make him look larger. “That really what you wanna be doin’ right now?”

You shake your head and nudge his hand to replace it with yours, almost comically small around the thickness of him. Joel hums out a moan as you employ the dribble from his slit to slick down his cock.

“Can I…spit on it?”

Joel’s chin drips down as he raises an eyebrow at you. “Can you? Baby, you think you gotta ask?”

You make a shallow shrugging motion as you pull at his cock with your fist. “Just trying to be a good girl.”

“Well, ‘f you ask me,” Joel replies, his voice crawling a little deeper in tone as you continue to stroke him, “a good girl always spits, then swallows.”

“Yeah?” You ask, your own voice verging on coyish innocence.

“Yeah,” Joel rasps, an edge of authority infused into the word in response to the naïveté in yours. It stirs something in your belly, something that preens and purrs and waits not-so-patiently for more of that dictatorial timbre—and maybe a firm hand to go along with it.

You find yourself yearning for the strong, steady press of his fingers against your cheeks again.

Not wanting to taint that “good girl” status as laid out by Joel, you accumulate the saliva in your mouth as you poise his length at your lips, and then round them to expel a healthy dose of spit onto the head.

Joel moans again, petting a hand over your hair as you work the lubrication down his cock. “Mmm, hand looks mighty small ‘round that big cock, don’t it?”

“Yeah,” You breathe, your speed increasing with the enhanced wetness. Your fingertips don’t touch, and that knowledge has your pussy tingling under your dress. There’s just so much of him.

Noises continue to spawn from Joel’s mouth as you pump him, twisting around the head and enthralling yourself with the precome spilling from his tip.

“Put your mouth on it, baby,” He directs, a hint of that dominance injected into the command, which you take as an indicator that he’s done with teasing, he wants to fuck something.

Fortunately, your mouth is more than willing, saliva still pooling in anticipation. You stroke him at the base as you stick out your tongue, giving him broad licks up the underside of the head and dipping into the slit. The groan Joel emits spurs you on, encasing the tip in your mouth and sucking.

“Fuck me, babygirl. So fuckin’ good. Take it deeper.”

You moan around him as you loosen your jaw and dive down onto him until he nudges at the back of your throat. The tickle has an eye-watering cough vibrating around him, but you tuck your lips over your teeth and fight through your gag reflex.

The length you still have left to take has you whimpering as you bob on him, keeping him buried toward the back until you have to release and gasp in a large breath.

“Little too big for you, darlin’?” He remarks with a tilted smile, his thumb running over your damp cheek.

You vehemently shake your head, taking him in again as you stroke what you can’t suck.

Joel groans loudly, tossing his head back as his cock drags along the back of you. His fingers grip your hair as his head falls back down, his lips glistening. “Gimme that tight little throat, babygirl. Can you do that? You ever deepthroated a big cock before?”

You whine and let him slip out of you, dripping with saliva and making up for your absence with quick, long strokes. “Not as big as you, daddy. Not even close.”

“Just let me do the tip then, babygirl. I know it’s big, but you’re a big girl, aren’t you? Y’can take it. I won’t go too deep.”

You nod, mumbling against the reddened tip, “I can do that.”

“Good girl,” He praises, nudging at the back of your head until he’s as far as you can take him without actually entering your throat. Tears gather at the corners of your eyes as you gaze up at him, and him down at you. “Just let it in. Deep breath through your nose and let daddy take your throat,” He soothes, flexing his hand in your hair.

He watches as you inhale, and then rocks his hips forward, stretching your throat open around the head of him. You choke out a whine and Joel shivers at the friction of it, white-knuckling the counter at his back with his free hand as his eyes clench shut.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, baby. That’s— fuck.”

He pulls you free to inhale more precious air, an expression of lust and admiration on his face as he takes in your debauched features. “So good. Doin’ so good for me. Let daddy in again.”

You suck in another breath and sink down on him, your clit beating between your legs as he breaches the tip of his cock into your throat again. It makes your brain go misty, struggling to inhale through your nose. You’ve never felt something stretch your throat like this, but it’s intoxicating. You’ve been choked before and found pleasure in that, but this is different. A complete obstruction of your airway, just for the sake of proving your sluttiness to a near-stranger.

“God, so fuckin’ tight for me. Such a tight fuckin’ girl for daddy,” He forces out through gritted teeth, gently rolling his hips to fuck your throat with his tip. Your throat constricts as you stave off your reflexes, and you know he feels it because the man goddamn whimpers.

He rips you off of him by the back of your head, panting as he rakes his fingers through his sweaty hair. “Fuckin’ Jesus. ‘Bout to bust my goddamn load, darlin’. Shit.”

Warmth blossoms in your stomach at potentially being this gorgeous man’s undoing. You watch his chest rise and fall as he reigns in his orgasm, his cock bobbing up and down, the purpling tip seeping with precome and cascading with your spit.

You automatically lean back in and place a tiny kiss to his slit, giggling at the resultant undulation of his stomach under his shirt. Joel breathes out a laugh of his own and holds a hand out for you.

“Come on. ‘S my turn.”

A little dazed, you take his hand and let him haul you up off your smarting knees, pulling you right into his chest.

“Dirty fuckin’ girl,” He mutters as he captures your lips with his, licking into your mouth with fervor. You collapse into it, sighing into his mouth as his tongue mingles with yours, not a care in the world about the presence of his own fluids coating your tastebuds.

You relinquish your hold on his lips, the bottom one sliding through your teeth, and mutter against him with a grin, “This is fun.”

He laughs lightly, stroking a thumb along your jaw. “Yeah? You havin’ a good time?”

“Mhmm.”

“Haven't even served the appetizer yet,” He mumbles, squeezing at your hips. “Hop up on the counter.”

He maneuvers you back and helps lift you up on the kitchen island, his hands gliding over the tops of your thighs once you’re seated.

“Been thinkin’ about this pussy since I met you in the hallway,” He shares, heat in his eyes as he looks up at you from your acquired high ground.

“Really? Slipping out of one woman’s bed just to pop a boner over another one’s pussy ten seconds later? Such a slut, Joel Miller,” You chastise, leaning back on your hands and parting your legs wider.

“Well, as you can attest to now, there’s plenty of me to go around,” He justifies with a little wink, before craning his head to whisper against your ear, “She’s never deethroated me like that neither. So what does that make you, babygirl?”

“Hmm,” You hum, pretending to actually ponder his words as he kisses along your neck. “Good at what I do?”

He snorts, nipping at your jaw, “‘S a nice way of puttin’ it. I’d’ve just called you a goddamn slut right back.”

“Mmm. Kismet, huh?” You banter back, your fingers curling against the countertop at the charged sensation of his breath over your skin.

Joel grins against your cheek, his hands slowly shifting up your dress. “Fuckin’ kismet.”

His fingers journey up higher, higher, until they hit the crease of your thigh…and he stops.

“Fuck. You’re definitely a little slut. Showin’ up to a stranger’s house with no panties?” He emphasizes his words by dipping a finger between your soaking wet folds, drawing a shiver from you.

“W-waste of time,” You stutter out, subtly rolling your hips down onto his finger. “Already knew what was gonna h-happen. Where they’d end up.”

“I’ll say,” He agrees, his finger disappearing from your center as it drags wetly back up your inner thigh with the rest of his fingers, gripping your thighs with both hands. “Already drippin’ off my fingers.”

He parts your legs with something akin to reverence, and when you’re spread out for him, fully on display, he groans as his forehead drops down onto your thigh.

“God, look at that. So fuckin’ juicy for me and I ain’t barely touched you yet. You really like chokin’ on my dick that much? Make you all drippy and desperate for your daddy?”

“Yeah,” You whimper, feeling your hole clench at his words.

“Perfect,” He sighs out, pressing up on the back of your thighs. “Feet on the counter, darlin’. Lie back.”

“But this is your kitchen counter —”

“I know what it is. What, you think a man don’t got bleach in the house? Now lie back.”

“I don't think you’re supposed to use bl—oh, fuck.”

Joel puffs out a devilish laugh into your clit as he swirls the tip of his tongue around it in dizzying circles.

“Shit, god,” You exhale, feeling a full-body shiver roll through you this time as you dance on the balls of your feet against the counter. “Ok, I’ll shut up now.”

“Don’t shut up,” He mumbles, unlatching for just a moment. “Wanna hear exactly what I do to you,” He adds with a mischievous lilt to his voice before sucking your clit back into his mouth.

“Yeah, okay. Fuck,” You sigh out, your hand blindly searching between your legs until it locates Joel’s head and grabs. Joel moans into your pussy, pulling a gasp from you in return as it pulses through your clit.

Joel’s fingernails dig into the meat of your thigh as he brings two fingers to tease down the folds of your cunt and prod experimentally at your entrance.

“Fuck, yes, please put them in, daddy,” You whine, hips seeking to suck them inside you and making Joel breathe out a laugh again.

“I got you, babygirl. You just lie back and let daddy make you feel good.”

You pick your head up from the counter, seeing the twinkle in his eye and the top of his head adorned with your fingers in his hair, and you feel your face collapsing in pleasure as he slips his fingers inside you while holding your gaze. You drop your head back on the counter a little harder than you should, and if your cunt wasn’t clamping down around his fingers right now and your clit bearing the hot, broad brunt of his tongue, you might care more. But the soft throb at the back of your skull syncs up flawlessly with the thrust of him pushing your walls open, and it just works.

You lose yourself in the slip of his tongue over your sensitive nub, your slick folds, the trace of him around where you’re stretched open around his fingers, sucking kisses at your stuffed entrance. It’s disorientingly hazy in your mind, the reality of it all. You just met this man, know next to nothing about him, whether he’s a liar or just a single father with a heart of gold and a dick of divine proportions.

But Joel crooks his fingers just right as he fucks into you and you don’t fucking care about any of that. Just care about the press of him against your most sensitive spot, how you’re fucking screaming “daddy” for him and bucking your hips against his face.

He hooks his free arm around your thigh to hold you in place, and you glance up to see pure, unadulterated hunger in his eyes as he devours you. You catch glimpses of his mustache webbed and glistening with your slick as his mouth works you over.

The passion, the intensity in his gaze has the pleasure in your belly spinning and swirling, and you know that he knows it.

“Daddy, I-I’m—”

He doesn’t even lift his mouth from your quickly spiraling pussy, he just fixes you with a look and nods.

Your fingers yank at his hair as your back arches against the laminate, feet bowing up on your tiptoes, a thousand and one words flooding your brain that you could say, if only your vocal cords were operational at this exact moment. You just see a flash of white across your vision, eek out the tiniest squeak, and feel yourself transcend for a few blissful moments.

Joel growls against your pussy, fucking you through your release with abandon until your body all but disintigrates against the countertop, your clit still pounding like a drum against Joel’s voracious lips.

He drifts off you and flops his sweaty curls against your leg as you hear him laughing a little, panting a lot.

“Oh my god,” are the first words you’re able to string together in the aftermath. Joel chuckles against your thigh, tonguing kisses up your skin and nuzzling his nose into the crease of your thigh and pussy.

“Could fuckin’ live right here,” He muses, placing a delicate kiss on your outer lips.

“I wouldn’t complain,” You sigh, muscling yourself up onto your forearms to admire the pussy-eating-glow Joel has in spades on his face.

He holds his two slicked fingers up in the air and beckons your forward with them. You heed his call, pushing yourself up until you’re sitting up, albeit rather unsteadily. Without a word, he brings them to your lips, and you open. It’s so fucking easy to open yourself up for him, you’re learning. He studies your lips as you suck yourself off of him, substantially more coated in your wetness than when you sent him that filthy picture last night. And just for a little fun, you swirl your tongue around the tips of them, in between them, just to see his eyes glaze over a bit.

He slips his fingers free and cups the back of your neck, eyes still preoccupied with the shape of your mouth. “Bring those lips over here, babygirl.”

You indulge him, indulge yourself, and revel in the press of his plump lips against yours again. His mouth moves so silkily with yours, an expert at drawing out the tension of these in-between overtures, sucking the taste of you right off your own tongue.

Resting your forehead against his, you whisper, “Can I tell you a secret?”

His eyes close as he nods, “Mhmm…”

“The other night…when I was listening…”

He pops one eye open in curiosity. “Mmm?”

Your teeth toy with your lip before you reveal to him, “I came. To the sound of your voice. The sound of you coming.”

His eyes fall closed again with a broad grin. “Goddamn. Do I got a little voyeur on my hands?” He asks, intertwining his fingers with yours and squeezing as his mouth finds your neck again, gradually winding you back up.

“Not intentionally,” You sigh out, your head lulling to the side with the drag of his lips. “Just couldn’t get over how sexy your voice was, even when I could barely hear your words. Just the tone of it.”

“Well, I’ll talk all you want me to, babygirl.”

“Good.”

He hums into you, flexing a hand at your hip. “I would really like to fuck you now. ‘F you’ll let me.”

“Hmm, let me think about that…” You tease, wrapping your legs around his torso and your arms around his neck to pull him in and taste him again.

“Bedroom,” He mouths against your lips, helping to lift you off the counter and back onto your feet.

“Yeah,” You agree, letting him tug you along behind you up the stairs.

Your dress is on the floor in record time, your tits falling free of their confines when your bra follows, and Joel is shrugging his shirt off his shoulders when he herds you onto his bed, straddling you at the shoulders and waist.

“Look at these goddamn tits, baby. Where you been hidin’ these all this time?” He groans, burying his face in them and sucking a hardened nipple into his mouth.

“Th-th-think we were a little busy, don’t you?”

“Never too busy for tits like these,” He asserts as he trades sides, the bud popping from his mouth plumped and shiny.

You allow yourself to get lost in the sensation of his mouth on your breasts, his tongue and teeth stimulating your nipples, his hands groping the flesh of them. His exposed cock grinds against your thigh, leaving streaks of precome in its wake.

“How do you want daddy to fuck you, babygirl?” He asks, kissing his way up your chest.

You push through the haze of pleasure in your head, second-guessing what you’d already decided to say when you’d both arrived at this moment. “You’re gonna think I’m weird.”

Joel studies your face with a faint smile. “Maybe. Try me.”

After a brief silence, you decide to throw caution to the wind. Just ask for what you want. He can tell you to fuck off if it creeps him out.

“Fuck me like you fucked her.”

A flash of devilishness sparks in his eye, his smile burgeoning as he considers your words. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Wanna see how much my imagination got right.”

You see his tongue prodding at his inner cheek as he processes, eyes not straying from yours. Only growing more ravenous. “Okay,” He finally agrees, giving you a small nod. “Hands and knees, babygirl.”

Joel pushes off the bed, wriggling himself out of his lingering clothes as you eagerly get in position, peeking over your shoulder to get a nice view of this gorgeous specimen getting naked for you. Joel spies the attention quickly with you not exactly striving for subtlety, and he winks at you as he strips off his boxers.

And something about that small gesture sets off the butterflies in your stomach. Which is all well and good, you suppose, granted that given Joel’s size, they were destined to be disrupted rather imminently anyway.

Joel settles in behind you on his knees, his hands naturally gravitating to the curve of your hips as his cock bobs obscenely in the space between your bodies. He pushes and pulls at the flesh of your ass, parting it in front of him to reveal yourself to him from a different angle this time. The muted fuck he breathes out at the sight ruffles those wings in your belly again.

His middle finger slips down the center of your ass, gliding over the pucker of your asshole and descending toward your soaked opening, and your eyelids shutter closed with a sigh.

When he speaks again, it’s softer than it has been. Like the reverence that manifested when he spread your legs on the counter has found its way back to him.

“Now, I fucked her with a condom. You want me to use a condom?”

You swallow and exhale through your nose. “We should.”

“Yes we should,” He echoes, and his finger pushes into you with ease.

“Don’t.”

His finger freezes. “Don’t?”

“No, not—” You try to clarify, huffing a breath out through your mouth this time. “Don’t use one. Fuck me bare. I’m clean. And on birth control. You’re…you’re clean, right?”

Joel’s finger starts to move again, but slowly, fucking into you at a glacially agonizing pace that has your breath hitching in your chest, building that heat in your core once again while barely even trying.

“I’ve been clean since the last time I fucked someone bare. But I don’t know about after. You okay with that?”

You sigh, “This is fucking stupid right? We shouldn’t.”

Joel nods behind you, quietly slipping in a second finger along with the first and evoking a near-undetectable moan from you, while he commiserates your own sentiments once more.

“It is stupid. And we shouldn’t.”

“God,” You moan, floating your head back onto your shoulders as you gradually rock your hips back to meet the maddening thrusts of his fingers. “Just…fucking do it.”

Joel’s fingers still inside you once more, shoved in all the way up to the webbing between them, as he bends over you, cupping your hip in his other hand and ghosting his lips over your ear. “I need you to be real sure, darlin’. ‘Cause once I start, once I feel this perfect pussy wrapped around my naked cock, I’m not gonna wanna stop.”

Joel twists and curls his fingers inside you, and your toes curl along with it as you gasp at the press of them against your sweetest spot. You swallow thickly again and affirm, “I’m sure that I wanna feel your bare cock inside me.”

Joel’s forehead makes a home between your shoulder blades, moaning as he places a kiss where his lips land on your spine, and grinding out a wrecked and reedy, “Fuck. Alright. Then daddy’ll fuck this cunt raw.”

You whimper as Joel’s fingertips massage at that spot inside you, his other hand coming around to circle your clit, all pretense of dragging out your pleasure abandoned.

“But I need to feel you come around my fingers again first, babygirl. Be a good girl for daddy.”

You’re embarrassingly close already, vestiges of your activities downstairs culminating with the torturous tease of his fingers winding you up for the last several minutes, and now the sweet, slippery, calloused drag of his skilled touch rubbing at your clit. All in all, it takes him less than thirty more seconds before you’re tiptoeing the edge.

“I-I’m—” The words don’t even have the opportunity to claw their way out of your mouth before you’re shattering on him for the second time this afternoon, pulsing around his fingers in a silent scream as he mutters the sweetest encouragements into your skin.

His hand is wet when he uses it to stroke down your side, squeezing and smacking your ass lightly as your legs tremble under you and you float back down to earth.

“That’s a good girl. All soaked and ready for my cock now, huh?”

As your brain cells continue relearning how to assemble words, you just nod, muttering some mottled version of yeah that sounds alien even to your own ears. But the incoherency makes him laugh, which makes you smile, and it helps ground you.

Joel takes his cock in hand and slicks it up with the wetness clinging to your folds, your stomach seizing when he grazes your sensitive clit. It sits between your lips as Joel leans over, rifling through his side table and coming up with a small bottle of lube.

When you protest slightly, he insists, “Just wanna make this feel as good as fuckin’ possible for you, baby. I know you’re already drenched. But you’ve seen how big daddy is. Need all the help we can get.”

He’s liberal with the lubrication, anointing your hole and his cock and lining himself up. And at the first light press, his size feels insurmountable. Skin stretching, pulling apart in every direction as his head makes room for itself. You whimper into the side of your arm, biting into the flesh as the pain flares.

“I know, baby,” He coos in your ear, his inching forward more akin to centimeters as he takes his time entering you. “Daddy’s real big, huh? Too much for this tight little pussy?”

“It’s just so…” Your words trail off in a moan as he slips further inside, almost fully seated within your walls. “God, it’s so fucking big.”

“You want me to stop?”

“Fuck no,” You gasp out, your hand reaching out to dig your nails into his hip to prevent him from retreating.

“Mmm,” He moans, sucking your lobe into his mouth and tugging with his teeth as he bottoms out inside you, feeling you clench around him as he brushes your cervix. “Knew you could take it all. Slutty little thing.”

“F-feels like I’m splitting in half,” You let out shakily, your fingers trembling where they indent his hip.

“Well,” Joel grunts out as he withdraws to the tip and pauses to whisper in your ear, “I guess good ol’ Trish was right,” and then slams the full length of him back into you again.

The scream you release grates against your vocal cords, has your fingernails threatening to pierce through the cotton of his duvet, has your knees sliding further apart on the bed, dropping your ass down. Firm hands dig into your hips and haul you back up just in time for Joel to fuck into you again. And again. And again. Until the rhythmic slapping together of your skin perpetuates the illusion in your mind that it’s failing to keep tempo with the sound of it reverberating off his bedroom walls. Or maybe your hearing is just failing you in favor of zeroing in on the stretch of Joel’s cock inside of you.

That must be it, because you don’t even realize that you’re still screaming, still shouting obscenities about his size, his pace, just him, until you register Joel in your ear, growling at you, “Yeah, let me fuckin’ hear it baby. Let me hear how you take it. How big is daddy’s cock inside you, babygirl? ‘S’it as big as you wanted?”

He must categorize your half-intelligible slurs of, “Yes, fuck, so fucking big, daddy please ,” as plenty satisfactory, because he just keeps going. One of his hands buries itself into the hair at your scalp and pulls, yanking your head up until your view shifts from pillows and sheets to stark white ceiling. A grunt pushes its way past your throat as the arch of your neck compresses your skin against your throat and Joel bottoms out inside you again, grazing the end of you in the most glorious, transcendent fashion.

“Shame there’s not someone in the next room over hearin’ what I’m doin’ to you, ain’t it?” Joel coos in your ear again, his thrusts going more liquid, like honey drizzling off its dipper into the jar. He slides languidly inside you to the hilt, dragging out with the suction of sweet molasses luring him back in. It devastates you in an entirely new way, has you hanging off his words with blanching fingertips. “Though, I’d wager you’re screamin’ loud enough to perk up some ears in the houses down the street.”

You moan at the thought, at the notion of people hearing Joel destroy you just like you overheard him doing to your neighbor. Right now, you couldn’t give a shit if the entire world knew how good this man is making you feel. Your friends, your family, the goddamn Pope for all you care. Just as long as he keeps fucking you like this.

You are absolutely, without a sliver of a doubt, irrefutably positive that you have never felt this full. Despite Trish’s own words, god bless her, you never could have prepared yourself for the battering ram that is Joel’s cock ravishing your cunt. In your experience, dicks of any size can be fulfilling; dicks of any size can be unfulfilling. But heaven help you, Joel has the length, the girth, and the motion down pat. Throw on top the scintillating monologue of filth spilling into your ear like the sweetest poison, and goddamn it, this man could have you professing your love for him within the hour.

“Love this fuckin’ pussy, baby. So goddamn tight around me. Tell me how it feels,” He growls through his teeth as he steps up his pace again, your head jostling with the thrusting of his hips and the strands of your hair stinging at the back of your skull.

“So perfect. So fucking perfect. Love your cock, daddy,” You sob, your hair slipping through Joel’s fingers and your head falling forward as he releases his grip, instead wrapping his hand at the slope of your shoulder into your neck to pull you backward into his pistoning hips.

“‘S it big? ‘S it as big as you wanted when you heard me fuckin’ someone else with it?”

“Yes, daddy! So big. Bigger than I ever could’ve—oh god ,” You cut yourself off as Joel hits you so fucking right inside, and suddenly words aren’t so doable anymore.

And for the first time in your life, you think a man is going to make you come three times in a single day. Hell, in an hour. A man you just fucking met, a man who 48 hours ago was nothing more than a velvety hum and a few dirty words on the other side of your wall. And now he’s made a space for himself inside your body, coaxing orgasms out of you as easily as he had you calling him “daddy”.

“Daddy, I’m-I’m gonna fucking come again,” You whine, and Joel is already sliding the hand on your hip in between your legs, circling your throbbing clit with his fingers.

“Little cunt is putty in my fuckin’ hands, huh, babygirl? Don’t matter what I give you–my mouth, my fingers, my cock–just a thirsty little bitch for any piece of me you can get. Come on, come for me again, darlin’. Come for your daddy. All over his big fuckin’ cock.”

With that, your eyes roll back as your pussy spasms around his hard length, your body convulsing as his fingers tease out your release from you. The pummelling of his dick inside your cunt, the magic of his touch on your sensitive clit has your orgasm seeming to float through every vein in your body, not stopping until it’s fried every one of your nerve endings in the process.

“Oh, fuck, baby. That’s–god, pussy feels too fuckin’ good,” He grits out, fingers and cock still doing their due diligence to draw out your pleasure as long as possible. “Tell me to come in this fuckin’ cunt.”

You whimper, nodding your head rapidly as your high finally starts to fizzle out and the pounding of his dick increases in intensity as he approaches his own climax.

“Uh-uh, I need to hear it, babygirl. Tell me to come in this stretched-out little cunt,” He grunts out, his voice going a little breathy as he struggles to stem his release.

“P-please, daddy! Please come in my little pussy, fucking need it so bad,” You sputter out, using what energy you have left to throw yourself back onto his cock.

Joel groans deep from his chest as his hips snap forward once, twice more before he’s shooting his load inside your already dripping, waiting cunt. Joel’s mouth descends on your shoulder, his teeth burrowing into the skin as his cock pulses.

Your racing heart begins to slow as the moments pass, Joel’s mouth unearthing from the craters excavated in your flesh, sucking lazy, soothing kisses to the impressions. You hum at the calming slide of his mouth, his cock softening but staying put right where you’re convinced it belongs for the rest of the day.

You let out a little squeak when Joel nips playfully at your shoulder, knocking your head against Joel’s as you mutter with a lighthearted grin, “Eat your heart out, Trish.”

Joel breathes out a laugh, capturing your lips in a lazy, sloppy kiss. Strong hands wind around your waist and pull you back against him, Joel sitting on his heels with his length still buried inside you and your heads craning to savor the afterglow.

“You’re somethin’ else,” He mumbles into your mouth, hand sneaking up to squeeze at your tit.

“As long as I’m something,” You tease back, intertwining your fingers with his over your breast.

“I’d really like to do this again.”

“I would too.”

“Might not even have to take my cock out of this glorious little pussy in the meantime.”

You laugh a little, nestling your forehead into the curve of his neck. “I meant more like…I’d like to do this whole thing again. In the future.”

He tilts his head toward you. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Joel affirms his hold on you and plants a kiss on your head. “I like the sound of that too.”

You stay there, secure in his arms, his spend pooling where he’s lodged inside you. You gradually feel him harden once more and you fall onto your back, letting him unravel you all over again on his cock. Taking you a little slower this time, a little longer, fucking his come back into you with each heavy stroke and smearing it over his shaft, into the tufts of hair at his base, dripping down his balls. And after he brings you to orgasm a toe-curling, limb-tingling fourth time, he makes you tell him again. Tell him to spill himself into your body, fill you up with more than just his paralyzing length. And this time he spreads open your thighs, watches as you push it out of your ravaged hole onto his disheveled bedding, and showers you with praise.

You lie sated and exhausted on his bed as he wipes between your legs with a damp cloth and settles down next to you, pulling your back into his chest and draping his chin over your shoulder. Your bones relax into him as his breathing balances.

“That was… the best sex I’ve ever had in my life. No contest,” You finally admit, at risk of it going straight to his head.

“Me too,” He reciprocates, inhaling deeply as he squeezes around you. “All that fuckin’ kismet,” He chuckles in your ear.

You hum, unable to wipe the smile from your face as his breath dances over you. As he kisses down your neck, you sigh. “Remind me to send Trish a fruit basket.”

taglist: @bbyanarchist@within-the-depths@livingdeadmaria@cool-iguana@a-roving-woman @koshkaj-blog @asideblogformyficreading @totallynotastanacc @adaslittleblog @walkintotheriveranddisappear @pr0ximamidnight @sinfulrock @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @kyloispunk @pinkiec6-rubi @vickywallace @pattwtf @chiyo13 @neverwheremoonchild @janaispunk @youandmeand5bucks @ladyburberry @kamcrazy123 @punkshort @survivingandenduring @confessionbrain-writings @lizzie-cakes @prettyinpunk85 @joeldjarin @bubble-pop-eclectic @chloeangelic @tripkid @untamedheart81 @jbb-sgr @punkshort @thee-expired-lover @anoverwhelmingdin @untamedheart81 @maximoff-forevermore @zliteraturehoe @5oh5 @khindahra @nottodaysattan

This will be my last time using my taglist! For further updates please follow @atticrissfinchupdates ❤️

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us #tlou #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #katy wroted fic

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navybrat817 · 6 months

Note

Imagine being in a room along with this man🫠🥵

Yes, lovely! Let's imagine that, shall we?

Lockdown

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: You're stuck in a room with Bucky and he's more than thrilled about it. Word Count: Over 500 Warnings: Longing, tension, teasing, dirty thoughts, Bucky is down bad for you, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: A small blurb. Maybe it'll turn into something more. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

“Brilliant, Barnes. Was it your intention to break the door handle or are you just not on your game today?”

Bucky counted to three in his head before he swung around to face you, exasperation written all over his face as he dropped the ruined handle to the ground. It didn’t seem to phase you since you flashed him a beautiful smile, one that made you appear more innocent than he liked to believe you were. He wondered how that lipstick would look smeared from your cheeks and chin. And along his cock.

Fuck, we wanted to ruin you.

“Can you go two minutes without busting my balls?”

You returned his grumpy stare with a flirty smirk. Not once in the time that he knew you had you shown any sort of fear toward him. You treated him like a person. That included you bouncing back and forth between flirting with him and giving him shit, which he gladly gave you in return.

The fact that you could dish it out and take it just as well made him respect the hell out of you.

He wondered just what else you could take.

“Sure. Two minutes. You can time me,” you shrugged, holding up your hand to inspect one of your nails. “And when those two minutes are up, then what? We wait for backup or try to figure out a way out? Because I have a dinner date tonight and I don’t want to be late.”

He ignored the surge of jealousy that shot through his veins. When he asked about your plans for tonight, you answered “meeting a friend for dinner” and refused to elaborate further. He had a feeling it was something more and you just said “date”. A fucking date. It drove him mad because you never once mentioned seeing anyone and you sure as fuck didn’t act tied down.

But if you’d let him tie you down…

“You may need to reschedule that dinner,” he smirked before he could let his imagination run wild, watching as the smile slipped from your lips. “Because the only way out is through that door and backup won’t be here until tomorrow morning.”

Your fists clenched as you got to your feet. Did you know your dress had ridden up your thighs a bit? Were you teasing him? “And you broke the fucking handle.”

“I sure did,” he shrugged when your nostrils flared. “Oops.”

He tried to tamper down his excitement as he leaned his back against the closest wall and observed you, but he couldn’t help himself. He had you all to himself for a short while. Maybe during that time he could convince you why you should be with him and not some random dinner date.

Sure he could. He had charm and could be persuasive when the occasion called for it. He’d treat you like a goddess if you let him.

You were his mission and he was more than happy to complete it.

“Better get comfortable, sweetheart,” he smiled before you could argue. “You’re stuck with me tonight.”

What do we think? Should we have more? Love and thanks for reading. ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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faetreides · 21 days

Text

- # 🍁 THE NEMEAN LION !!

feels so ugly when i’m honest

cw: afab reader, ambiguous era, dubcon coded, insp. by this ask, patrick and reader have noncon somno fantasies about the other (so rlly it’s more cnc), patrick is gross and mean, situationship/roommate!patrick, unprotected p in v sex & relying on the pull out method, weed mention and wine mention, art guest star appearance (patrick mentions him), oral (afab reader receiving), hints of: foot fetish, dacryphilia, cnc in general, plus sized!reader, mythological themes, 3k words of me losing my marbles, one use of daddy, we don’t gotta be in love you knowweeeeee i don’t gotta be the oneeee you knowweeeeeeeeew

You’re making him crazy, Patrick knows it. He shouldn’t spend his mornings humping his pillows that you hold in your lap during movie nights. He definitely shouldn’t be stealing your panties and strangling his cock with the lacey fabric that’s going to end up smelling so foul from how much he’ll use the same pair over and over. He thinks he can catch your scent on his clothes when you’ve never actually been close enough to leave a reminder of you behind. Sometimes Patrick gets so frustrated with continuing at this same snail’s pace that he wishes he could just grab your face and smush it into his musky crotch. He’d let you go if you were about to pass out, maybe. You can’t get shit twisted if you’re unconscious.

He’s telling you another one of his stories, hoping to see a twinge of… something swirling in your irises. You just hum too much and squirm a bit, ever the overactive listener. Patrick would cut off his balls if it meant that he could hear anything resembling a moan from you, not just little signs that you’re listening and not speaking. The transformer movie’s reached a point where you don’t really have to pay attention, so you cutely shuffle your mess of blankets around on the couch so you can give Patrick your undivided attention. He’s had to start keeping space in his closet for the large throw blankets you bring along even though you refuse to let him turn the fan off.

“Yeah, I was with Art actually. We ate each other out back in the day, y’know, to see what it was like. He sat on my face and fuckin’ almost broke my neck, his thighs were gripping me so tight.” He coyly tilts his head to the side, pretending to be shy about the whole thing.

He narrows his eyes and analyzes your reaction. You dart your gaze around the room for a split second, struggling to tamper down the blossoming warmth in your stomach and the insecurity that comes with never being able to catch up with Patrick. You’ve confessed to it a couple times, usually after a couple of bottles of whatever cheap alchohol he’s got on hand. His nails shred into his palms with the effort it takes not to give you something to talk about, even if you think they’re only dreams.

“When was the first time someone ate you out? I can’t be the only one shoving my foot in my mouth here.”

God, what he’d give to have your feet in his mouth, and vice versa.

You play with the fluffy black blanket in your lap, making eye contact with one of the cartoon nutcrackers on it and not Patrick as you answer his question. “Oh… I’ve actually never been eaten out, maybe that’s why no one’s made me cum.”

It’s a like his world has been hit by an unexpected asteroid and blown to smithereens, bits of membrane and curdled dna scattered across the milky way. The gross-ness imbued in his bone marrow leaks out into vaccum of space as he processes this truly fucking suprising piece of information. Never in his life has Patrick been told something that just can’t be true, not when there are still good things in the world. Not when that helpful little tidbit will split him open and take over his every waking and sleeping thought.

He shakes his head, blinking rapidly. “What? What the hell do you mean no one’s ever eaten your pussy?”

“I, I don’t know. The people I've been with have just never gone out of their way to do it and I didn't make a big deal out of it.”

His heart’s breaking in half and you clearly have no idea. Patrick scrambles to sit up and grabs your hands to stop them from fiddling with the blanket anymore. There are a thousand things he wants and needs and just has to say but all he can do in the present moment is keep shaking his head and crowding you against the right arm of his tattered gray couch.

“Then they’re so fucking stupid, I can’t believe you don’t know what it feels like to have a tongue up your cunt.” He states, a firm declaration that has you throwing out a hand on his bicep to ground yourself.

Patrick looks crazed above you, dark hair impossibly soft and pupils steadily expanding outward. You slide your hand up his arm (trying to ignore the muscle there, what it’d be like when they flex as he picks you up by your ass) to place it on his firm chest. You open your mouth, trying to cobble together any kind of response you can think of but your mind is blank. Patrick seizes the opportunity and smahes his mouth against yours, when the clashing of your lips is over there’s more blood than spit. He flicks his tongue out to catch the little drops of blood dripping from your lips, moaning after he swallows each one.

You’re catching your breath, “You… you can’t… just do that.”

He rolls his eyes and grins, “I did. I can hear you through the walls at night you know? Rubbing your pussy on one of my pillows that you think I don't know you stole, crying for me.”

Damn, that’s what you get for making risky decisions while you’re ovulating. You knew you washed it and should’ve snuck in while he was out to throw it on his plaid comforter and act like it never happened. The longer you kept it stuffed between your plush thighs, smothering it in the natural scent of your pussy, the more your shyness grew. It was easier to spend your nights like that then explore the possibility of doing something else with your time, but now you’re just wishing that you hopped on Patrick’s stupidly huge dick while he was passed out and snoring and called it a day.

“I… I’m sorry, okay? You can have it back.” You say and keep the grumpiness out of your tone, having to come to terms with hoarding nothing that smells like him anymore.

“Just shut up and be happy, be good for me.” He punctuates it with a mean squeeze to your face, slowly sliding his hand down to hang around your throat and falling to his knees in front of the couch.

Maybe it’s the cheap white wine, maybe it’s the subpar edible you had earlier, but you throw caution to the wind and sink your fingers into Patrick’s hair. Your breath happily flies out of your lungs when he pushes your knees apart, coaxing your white lace panties off with his teeth. The bright lights from the TV cast a glow around him, and you hate how pretty he looks. Like if Hercules was a modern porn star, muscles rippling and eyes spearing through you as he catapults you to the stars.

The roughness of his fingers feels heavenly as he smooths them down your inner thighs, “Nice and fat pussy, dripping all over the place. Saying hi, right? It’d be rude of me to not say anything back.”

So he does, spitting right on your clit and spreading it all over your pussy. Patrick shuffles closer and takes several big lungfuls, humping the air with every whiff of your artificial body wash combined with your much more attractive musk. He opens his mouth wide and latches onto your soaking folds, flattening his tongue and licking broad stripes up your cunt. He laps up your juices sloppily, almost wagging his tongue wildly in an effort to suck up whatever he can.

There’s a coil forming in the pit of your stomach, winding tighter and tighter with every swipe of Patrick’s wet tongue. Your face flames in embarrassment once again, you don’t really know if you look bad from his point of view but you can’t stop yourself from throwing your head back against the couch and scrunching your face up. He gives your asshole an open mouthed kiss, half to tease you even further and half because he just couldn’t resist. It was glistening and winking at him and everything.

“Fuck! Fuck! That’s so- how are you so good at this?” You mewl, raking through his hair thoroughly like you’re searching for something you lost.

Patrick’s ego grows in size and he smiles as he moves to your clit, hollowing his cheeks and suckling rapidly. He buries his face in your pussy and drinks you down in several gulps, picking up speed when you resign yourself to telltale moans about much you need to cum. He flicks the tip of his tongue against your swollen clit and slows down right when you’re apart to fall over the edge. He actually chuckles into your mound and winks when you glare at him. He cuts off whatever bratty retort you armed yourself with by going back to nearly inhaling your clit without warning.

“Ungh- I really-really fucking hate you, but don’t you dare stop, I’ll kill you.”

Each suck sends pulses shooting up your core, and that scary coil in the depth of your guts tightens blissfully. You squirm, the very definition of a hot mess as you grind against his face. The friction was never enough but you keep corralling his nose into your pubic hair, fruitlessly rutting your hips with no end goal other than the urge to hump whatever’s available. You panic for a second that you’ll suffocate him or he’ll be grossed out by you not shaving, but you shouldn’t underestimate him. If anything, Patrick groans at the heady smell. Getting it straight from the source and fucking the air during his suckling.

His eyes never stray from you. Your agonized face straight out of a renaissance painting, too strung out and burning with pleasure to resemble anything normal. Your thick thighs, jiggling with every move you make, you can’t seem to decide between humping his mouth like a bitch in heat or trying to squeeze his head like a watermelon. Your sounds, wails and cries and moans and whines, he’ll have to record you next time, play it anytime and anywhere in case you misunderstand what this is. The first documentation of how much cum and fluid you can paint him in, whatever color or thickness you’ve got for him. He’ll wring it all out of you eventually, film a home movie series to chronicle every squirting session and the like.

Gun to his head, you taste like those old fashioned butterscotch hard candies. Decadent and sweet, if he could he’d sink his teeth into the slippery supple flesh and pull and rip.

After several rounds of cruel edging, your brain whites out so hard, you can almost form the blurry shapes in your peripheral vision into a red spiked tail and horned wings. Patrick’s ruining you entirely, you know that now, and the movie’s already over but you don’t spare the scrawling credits more than a weary glance. Your soul is probably cartoonishly swimming through the putrid air towards your body, but your sweaty body is shaking too much to receive it. There’s a ringing in your ears as you blink yourself into awareness, Patrick unbuckles his jeans and a blunt pressure stretches your hole out.

“Sorry, ‘m out of condoms, I’ll pull out, baby.” He huffs out, praying to whatever’s listening that he doesn’t just start pummeling your shit.

You feel your stomach bunching up before you see Patrick’s dick disappearing into you. The feeling of being split open on something so thick has you reeling, no one else you’ve been with has left you spiraling quite like this. In a room full of dicks you’d be able to spot his, you’d just have to find the one that has the back of your throat tingling and going dry just from a sniff and a look. You’d cry if he pulled out now, it’s already too late for you. This is such a stupid decision, sloppy rough sex with your roomate-turned-situationship on his worn out couch that’s older than the both of you combined.

It’s one hell of a story, and maybe some moments in life should be allowed to boil down to that. The hand loosely wrapped around your throat tightens its hold, you welcome the thumb pushing into your mouth without prompting. The depravity of it all makes you feel owned, has you seriously considering living your life as some guy’s exclusive pet whore. The ‘squelch’s and the ‘schlick’s that come with his savage thrusts and milk white strings connecting the base of his cock to your puffy pussy.

Every breath you think you’re going to be able to take, he steals from you and mocks your whimpery “unh-unh-unh~”’s in his raspy mid-fuck voice.

“This is the only dick you’ll be hanging off of from now on, got it? Can’t let some lousy jackass try to sew his balls to this pussy when it’s not even gonna cream around him.” You say yes to that hissed demand, yes of course, Daddy.

Patrick plunges his cock to the hilt into your cunt in one sharp stroke, gasping and gripping your hip to distract himself from the way your walls are clenching around his length. Every part of you is greedy apparently, you’re perfect for each other then. The position he has you in is so filthy, he’s standing and hosting your legs up over his shoulders, folding you in half on the couch. His dirty levi’s pool around his feet and the sound of his belt hitting the floor inspires awful thoughts in you. Your sweat mixes together and trickles down your legs, sticking to his leg hair.

You can have it soft once he’s gotten this demon off his back and out of his system, you can ride him while you’re cozied up in bed, lazily rolling your hips until you get tired a couple minutes later and clinging to the caresses on your love handles. Patrick has to destroy something before he can even stand to think about putting it back together, your insides and you yourself are no exception. Your walls feel like the finest quality silk around his throbbing cock, leaking inside of you as he clutches onto your ankles. The TV’s automatically shut off by now, and the lack of background noise enhances his animalistic grunts and deep moans.

“Gonna fuck your tits next time, fuck-what the fuck-you’re too damn tight, massage them for you after, rub your cunt raw-“

Patrick fucks like he’s staking claim on a spoil of war, you’re learning, as if the pale ferryman’s hot on his heels and this sliver of time is the only sacred thing he’ll ever get in his wretched mortal life. All his, gone limp between bloody jaws and killing hands. He snarls in your face as he pounds your pussy, angling his hips to stab deeper in you than should be medically possible. You don’t when you start tearing up, but Patrick does nothing to wipe away your tears, not even lick them up. He just fucks you to the point where you’re crying, shutting his eyes as he throws his head back so you can’t see that he’s crying too. The both of you borrow from different sources of emotion.

“You sounded so scared when you were cumming, made my balls twitch, was cute.” Patrick tells you in between messy kisses, more focused on almost eating your face than properly locking lips with you.

His tongue hangs out of his mouth as he abruptly yanks himself out of you and lavishes your belly in ropes after ropes of cum. You’d reach down to dip a finger in and taste it, but you’re too annoyed at the thought that he’s depriving you of an orgasm again. You haven’t even decided whether you’re going to pout or flatbout get up and leave when Patrick’s sliding home once more. You give him a punched out gasp, sort of pained and kind of relieved, in response. He hisses through his teeth, grinding them together like it’s burning the flesh on his cock to plunge back into your searing pussy. Actively breaking and remaking you. Both of your muscles tense up as the wave threatens to crash over you.

“You can cry some more, if you want, I'd like that a lot. Beg me to save you from what I’m doing to you, to this tight pussy.”

Happy or sad, doesn’t matter. He knows you like it when he keeps you from fighting back, you suit being manhandled and made to take dick better than anyone else he’s slummed it with.

He hunches his back forward to kiss you again, and you claw red stripes down it as your tongue maps out every inch of his mouth. He pulls back and you spend several seconds like that sharing breath. You don’t realize what you’re saying out loud, things like ‘Holy shit you’re so fucking big-so good-it’s so fucking good’ and ‘Feels better than i thought it would, how is that even possible?’ It’s like your own little sex obsessed podcast, centering every episode around how situationship dick is on another level and will irrevocably destroy you. Patrick chuckles, he can’t wait to hold every treasured compliment from you over your head. You could say you’re done with whatever this is when he leaves the toilet seat up again but he’ll never forget you howling for him and his cock to never leave you.

Patrick will swing himself over the net into overstimulation before the next time your pussy’s clamping down on his thick cock and spasming, but he’ll be damned if you’re not gonna end up passed out and drooling while the sun rises. You can spend future movie nights cockwarming him, if you can stand to endure the sickeningly perfect stretch without being allowed to get your cunt beat. You’re mewling when you froth the base of his dick again, your walls pulse around him like you’re a cat laving up your favorite cream. Tonight’s not the night where you’ll be getting it straight from the source, maybe when you’re willing to take certain risks. His smiles are the most genuine when you drag out your whine to follow the speed in which he pulls out to paint your body. Tangy ribbons hanging over your love handles and dripping down to your ass cheeks.

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melrodrigo · 1 month

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music nerds

Jenna Ortega x Fem!Reader

Summary: Jenna stumbles upon a tiny vinyl shop, and thinks the employee is mighty cute.

A/n: here it is nerds, my first jenna fic. Was in a silly goofy mood, I miss my babygirl so.

It started at the vinyl shop. You, rearranging the different records into the correct sections, stood humming absentmindedly to the tune of the song playing.

“How’s my favorite employee of the month doing?” Your coworker (and best friend) Harry pipes up, leaning on the shelves opposite you.

“You can stop calling me that, we both know the only reason I got crowned this month was because you missed six days and I had to cover for your ass.” You mumble, slightly annoyed. It had been a long day, with customers shuffling in and out without ever buying anything. It didn’t help that the only customers Harry attended to were girls he thought were cute.

He nudges you a little, trying to prompt you away from rearranging the vinyls.

When you don’t answer, he huffs a little and then makes his way to the back—no doubt about to take a nap—where he’ll stay until closing time.

You sigh softly, shaking your head.

Even though you loved Harry to shreds, you hated being his coworker. He could be trusted with nothing.

You move over to the next section, swaying a little to the tune, losing yourself in the music.

You’re aware of the jingle of the bell that indicates someone has entered as you shuffle through the records.

They could take care of themselves for just a few minutes, you reckon.

Soft footsteps sound from behind you, and the sound of someone putting a stop to the music makes you frown. Then, there’s a tiny scratching noise before the melody of I am Controlled By Your Love by Helene Smith sounds through the tiny store.

You can’t help the tiny smile that envelops your face; and the surprise that echos through your mind. You’d just found out about this song, while scrolling through a playlist someone had made for your celebrity crush, Jenna Ortega.

Apparently she liked the song, if you remembered correctly from watching one of her interviews passingly.

“Great choice.” You tell whoever put it on, still not turning to face them.

“Thanks, I’m surprised this place has it. I’ve been looking for weeks.” A girl answers, and it sounds vaguely familiar.

“Well, we sure do. One of the best vinyl stores in the country if I do say so myself.” You smile, finally finishing tampering with the discs and turn to your customer.

It takes everything in you to not gasp out loud—standing in front of you was the Jenna Ortega.

You feel your hands grip the shelves just a little tighter, and you prayed to god that Jenna didn’t see the blush very quickly climbing up your neck.

“One of the best, huh?” She smiles, and you swear you could feel your heart physically melt.

She looks, if not better, exactly like in the pictures. It’s surreal, this person you see almost everyday on your phone, standing in front of you.

She’s wearing a black turtleneck sweater and some baggy jeans. There are sunglasses blocking her eyes, maybe to try to avert attention, but you could tell in an instant who she was.

You think she knows too, by the way she’s smirking a little.

“Yeah, and there are a ton of artists just like the one you just put on, at the back corner over there.” You point with shaky fingers, cursing yourself for looking so stupid.

She nods and disappears further into the store, and you breathe out in relief.

Holy shit! Jenna Ortega!

You place a hand over your heart, reminding yourself to be normal and check if you’re still breathing.

“Uh-I’m sorry. I couldn’t find it. Where did you say?” She pops her head out from one of the shelves, cocking her head to the side.

You grab your bearings, determined to not make a fool of yourself.

You were an employee. Just an employee helping out a confused customer.

“It’s hard to find, believe me I know.” You smile reassuringly, sauntering over to where she was standing.

“Here, just follow me.” You say, weaving through the maze that was this tiny vinyl store.

She bumps into you a few times, saying a soft sorry as she does. You placate her worries with soft it’s okays everytime she does.

“Ahah! Right here. My pride and joy.” You beam, getting used to having her so close and relaxing.

“What would you recommend?” She muses, flicking through the artists.

“Well, I’m a Beatles girl myself,” You tell her, looking over the records, “but I am a sucker for The Mamas & The Papas.”

She raises an eyebrow at you, and you hold your hands up in defeat.

“I know, I know! I’m a mainstream whore.” You say before you can stop yourself, something definitely inappropriate to say to a customer.

Jenna lets out a little giggle, fast like she can’t help herself.

You take the opportunity to keep talking, since she seems interested in the music over here.

“But, there is another artist somewhere here, I think you’ll like.” You wink, then mentally face palm yourself.

You turn back to the records in order to hide your expression, finally finding the guy you were looking for.

“Frank Zappa.” You explain as you hand it over to her. “An instrumental.”

She looks at it thoughtfully, inspecting the album art; then looks up at you and smiles. Her brown eyes make you want to cry and scream, but you keep your composure.

“You have nice eyes.” She murmurs, eyes flickering over your face. Then, just as fast, she turns away and walks back the way you came.

“What just happened.” You breathe once she’s out of earshot, carefully walking back to the cashier.

She’s waiting, texting someone on her phone.

When you slide up behind the counter, all flirty smiles, she tilts her head.

“Took you long enough.” She teases, scrunching her nose in embarrassment unconsciously.

You stutter endlessly, trying and failing to come up with an excuse. It all comes out in one jumbled poor excuse of a sentence that you try to cover up with a cough.

You slide her things over and scan them, not daring to look at her probably smug face.

“That’s all.” You say, somewhat bashfully, stealing a glance back at her.

Her eyes flicker with something you can’t quite place, but something you can certainly feel. Warmth envelops you whole, your knees turning into jelly.

You put her stuff into a plastic bag, hand them over, and bite back the hitch of breath when your hand grazes hers.

She bites her lip thoughtfully, shifting on her feet. The bag is in her hands now, she’s free to leave.

But still, she stands there, looking like she’s thinking very hard about something.

You try and prompt her out of her thoughts, murmur a quiet, “Anything else?” and watches as she takes out her phone and pushes it to your side of the desk.

“Yeah. Your number.” She squeaks, blushing a faint pink. She clears her throat and says it again, in a tone deeper than before.

It takes absolutely everything in you to keep your mouth shut. It desperately desperately wants to drop, not quite computing what is really happening.

You take it before she can change her mind, quickly jamming in your number and taking a quick photo for the profile.

She beams as you hand it back to her, not bothering to stop the cheeky satisfied smile that wants to take over her lips.

“I’ll see you soon, yeah?” She asks, and you nod adamantly, forgetting all pretense of chill.

“Right. Uh huh. Super!” You call out as she makes her way out the door, shaking her head at your dorkiness.

“Holy shit!” You yell this time, breathing out a huge sigh of relief you didn’t even know you were holding.

You’re rooted to the spot, afraid that if you move you’ll wake up and this’ll all be a dream.

“Wha-What happened?” Harry comes tumbling out the back door, plastic baseball bat in hand.

You lock eyes with him and let yourself fall down into the nearest chair, all wild eyes.

“I just got Jenna Ortega’s number!” You tell him, letting your hands run through your hair, happy and stressed.

His eyes narrow, then he shoots you a lopsided smirk.

“Sure you did.” He says, letting the baseball bat fall beside him, guard down.

“No Harry, she really came in here! And asked me for my number!” You yell, exasperated.

You can tell he doesn’t really believe you, but all it takes is one good look at your face, all white and red at the same time, and he’s widening his eyes comically wide.

“No fucking way.” He gushes, sliding over to sit beside you. He practically preens over you, all questioning eyes.

“Well what did you do?” He pushes, waiting for you to elaborate.

You tell him the whole story, slightly reveling in his reactions. He never fails to make you laugh at his comments.

“So…what now?” Harry asks after a minute, raising his eyebrows.

You sigh. “I don’t know, I guess I’m gonna have to wait for her to call me. Who knows how long that’s gonna take.”

“Well, you better be ready for her when she does. Oh my god we so need to do a makeover.” He rambles, turning on his phone to look at hairdressers nearby. You lean back into your chair, overwhelmed.

For now, you’re worry-less. Jenna Ortega just asked for your number, and you think you couldn’t be luckier. The only thing to do now was wait, and so you do.

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega imagine #tara carpenter x reader #wednesday addams x reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader

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in-styx · 2 years

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DC x DP

This has already been explored a ton but I love it and WILL talk about it anyways

I just love Danny in Gotham being so used to the most off the walls shit that vigilantes and villains generally just… don’t phase him, especially so since a large chunk can’t affect him anyways. And since he’s so friendly either way, he becomes kind of like a capybara for criminals? They don’t realize he’s not a civilian when they all talk to him, but he’s chill, and doesn’t talk down to any of them or see them as people to put on a pedestal. It’s just…having a peer that you can see on equal ground, which is pretty rare for most of the folks in Gotham, hero or villain. So whenever someone’s having a rough day, they find him wandering around and just talk for a bit, just wanting someone to listen or to hangout with, and it goes great.

There’s been a few times when some of the bats have crossed paths with villains talking to Danny, but it’s become a sort of unspoken agreement to avoid starting fights in his area. Occasionally a few villains try to start trouble, but that doesn’t usually last long. Either Danny is unaffected just enough for it to be a little unsettling, or someone realizes they’re fucking with everyone’s favorite stray cat personified and absolutely decks them. For the first, one time Scarecrow tried to catch Danny off guard by dropping in to hangout with a little too much fear gas for anyone who breathes to be fine after it. What he can’t see, though, is that under his overworn hoodie Danny has a gift from fright knight after his coronation as king. A necklace that makes him immune to mind tampering; especially fear. (It intended to act as a way for most of fright knights unique powers to be rendered useless against Danny as a form of goodwill and loyalty, but this was a pretty good bonus.) So, they’re talking, and scarecrow is waiting for Danny to go at least a little off his rocker, and he just…doesn’t? And Scarecrow is sure it was the right amount, and even if he’s resistant to this kind of thing it should have done something, and what the fuck? The only result was Danny coughing a bit, the only indicator he had even noticed his attempts to -

“Hey, dude, it’s fine if you vape, but can you not bring that stuff here? I get if you need to take a break in private or something, but it really bugs my throat, sorry.”

…what

#dp x dc au #dp x dc prompt #dp x dc crossover #dp #dp x dc #scarecrow #danny fenton #ghost king danny #danny phantom

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dmnbroys · 1 year

Text

Them with bratty!gfs

always teasin’ him,playing with just the little button of his last nerves,trynna get a rise outta him.even if he has gotten used to her little antics,he cannot help the fact that the rush of adrenaline that would go down his cock at every little thing,every little tamper tantrum was turning him on.

And the outcomes……well

Controller in one hand,he takes a deep inhale before throwing down a hard smack down the thickness of her ass watching intensely the movement of the impact afterwards.

"C’mon mama y’gon work for it,all em’ words,all that talk put it t’work…..i ain’t doin shit till y’feel srry enough" he says lowly before looking back at the tv trynna focus more on the game to mask the way your wet cunt was squeezing hard on him yet eyes completely blown out ,glassy and filled with intensity.Acting as if the tightness of your cunt wasn’t affecting his ass just as much as his dick did to you,beating your shit with slow but hard trust,the overwhelming feeling being too much with the one of hypersensitivity.Bro tried so hard not to let go,he woulda came long ago if it wasn’t for teachin yo ass a lesson."d-daddy p-please can’ttttt s’too much…." Uh uh ma’ y’want me to call that mf y’so needed to meet up with ? matter fact’ how bout we send him a lil sum,sure that ain’t gon be a problem….thinkin’ bitch can come fuck with me n my girl…. crazy"

The argument this time was bout you wanting to go to one of both of y’alls friends house just to hand out with him n his girlfriend.The problem is that he didn’t want to come,and he didn’t believe you was going to their house since you only mentioned an "he" and no other names.Made him think you was up to sum jealousy type shit again cuz he knew your petty self would repeat that shit sooner or later considering the fact that he been ogling his ps5 all day not passing anytime with you after he promised.He wasn’t really possessive…..well maybe a little.Plus you might’ve gone a lil too far with your description earlier….to get that rise out of him before leaving but seems like your plans didn’t went through final phase.

didn’t even made past the door before an heavy hand grabbed your ass by the throat,the front door of the house closing with a slam.Now there you were ass up face down of the couch,dick all up in your stomach,the angle making him reach a past that ring of pleasure,arms sore from moving against the couch so aggressively,pussy soaked and wetting his abdomen and him having you fuck yourself back on him refusing to do any sort of movements,frustrating you.Eyelashes falling off,no ending river of tears going down your face and wetting the couch.You whined almost making a fuss but he was faster.Took your throat in his other hand,pulling your back against his chest a breathy chuckle pulling off his lips."still trynna have that attitude? aight bet."

It was daytime before y’all finished.sent a pic of your cunt dripping with thick globes of his cum to yall’s friends the next day.Immediately regretted it cuz obviously possessiveness took over his consciousness.💀

Onyankopon , geto , gojo ,toji, zoro ,ichigo , renji , eren

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rileyslibrary · 3 months

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Hihi I am a big simp for ghost and I think you write the best fluff between reader and ghost, it always makes me smile and giggle and kick my feet

I was just wondering how you would write ghost being an actual ghost? I'm not sure if you've written it before! Sorry if you have already

Thank you for your kind words, anon; I appreciate it! 🍫

Now on to your question. Honestly? I think he’d have the time of his… afterlife. *ba-dum tss*

We’ve seen how much of a jokester he can be, even in difficult situations (especially in difficult situations, actually), but what if being a literal ghost restricts the lieutenant from throwing his silly little one-liners?

Enter Simon Riley, the ghost.

You wake up one day and find a potato on the sofa. It’s just his way of telling you how much of a couch potato you are, that’s all.

Or, one day, after you sit down to watch some TV, you discover that your Netflix account has been tampered with, and your list has completely changed. Your previous movies and series are now replaced by “romantic comedies and very intense European dramas” (to quote Samuel Roukin). It’s just his way of telling you your taste is shit. Nothing personal. Nope.

Your bra gets slinked right in your face while you sleep? Watch out! it’s a booby trap!

I can see him also being protective of you, though. For example, I’d imagine him hurling a jacket at the back of your head just as you prepare to exit the house cause it’s freezing outside.

Just don’t hire an exorcist or whatever people do in such cases. He might not be particularly friendly, but he’s not hostile either. He’s a sassy ghost.

Simon, the sassy ghost.

Yeah.

#the librarian answers

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rapunzelbro · 3 months

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Velvette x reader, with another disigner! Reader, you have a rival like relationship with her and reader gets on her nerves but one day they meet a show and things happen from there that make Velvette want to seek out reader for comfort pls.

Fashion designer! reader comforting Velvette

I so gotcha! Sorry this took so long. Wanted to make it perfect. Enjoy!

Masterlist Taglist Velvette

You and Velvette have always been rivals, ever since you made your appearance as a fashion designer

There was something about your designs that contrasted Velvette’s entirely. Instead of the bold colors her outfits have that match the aesthetic of hell, you’re is on the more softer side of colors. Pastels, hot pinks, yellows all that

And believe me, you weren’t sure at first it would do well considering how hellish hell is, but holy shit it did amazing.

It pissed Velvette off that people have no taste these days, scrolling through your social media platform, disgust being evident

You tried to get along with her but girl was NOT having it and would refuse to get along because you were her competition

Like maybe you saw her at your first show with other fashion designers and she snapped at you for thinking you’re the shit, when you genuinely didn’t.

You couldn’t give one less fuck about her behavior, and it fueled you to work harder, to become better

And it soared you even closer to besting her, and you were getting even more on her nerves

It would be a while until you two see each other face to face, it was at another fashion show with very select fashion agencies invited.

You and Velvette were both well aware of the other agency invited, they were mean, brutal and determined to surpass you and Velvette.

You two begrudgingly decided to keep close eyes together on them, which meant you two having to put up with each other.

The threats being made to both of you two tonight were going to an extremely dangerous length

You had security high on your models for the show, and Velvette did as well, but no one knew what was going to happen to Velvette

You were making sure your models were getting their makeup up to your standards, when you would hear Velvette screaming at one of her models

“Are you fucking serious! Which one of those fuckers did that? No one drink the water someone drugged it! Those absolute pricks!”

Velvette was pissed, grabbing one of the security guards screaming at them for not doing their job

You don’t think you’ve ever seen her lose control like now. She was frantically making calls and you just kept quiet trying to calm your models, as you check to make sure their water bottles haven’t been tampered with

One of her models were down, she was on last but she couldn’t find anyone in time to fill that position

She locked herself in her dressing room . The first agency went on while she was freaking out internally, while you had to watch your models but you were concerned for her.

Your phone buzzed, and when you checked it you didn’t expect Velvette to message you. Considering how she only texted you regarding the threat of the new company arising

“Get your ass in here”

“Please”

You never heard her say please so you instantly yelled at your security to not fuck anything up and quickly made your way there, knocking as she opened the door, her usually perfect hair slightly frizzed, her eyes slightly puffed from crying, most likely out of frustration

“Those assholes sabotaged me, drugging one of my models! Mine! Who do they think they are!”

She would walk away from the door in a panic as you walk in after her

“I.. I don’t know what to do Y/N, I usually don’t have this problem but of course this had to happen”

You’ve never seen her so vulnerable to you, or anyone, it genuinely shocked you

“Velvette, you can use one of my models if you need to”

“I don’t want your sloppy seconds! I need someone new!”

“Then have me go on”

The way she turned her head so quick it must’ve given her whiplash

“You being fucking serious?”

“You need a new model, I’m new. That bitch won’t back down and if they see you like this? Shit they’ll think you’re weak. What’s more intimidating hm? Seeing you having a breakdown, or seeing their two competitors working together for once, consider this being a collaboration between us. They’ll cry of embarrassment”

You walked up to her with a smirk. She returned the smirk almost instantly

“You’re not so useless now are you? Then so be it, tonight we collaborate”

After your models walked it was Velvette’s turn. All of her original models came out, all the designs had last minute changes, pastels and lighter colors suddenly being adjusted to fit with the dark style as well that lingered in the design.

You came out last with Velvette, wearing one of her designs and she wore yours. You both had shit eating grins on your face as Velvette made the official announcement of your collaboration

And when you saw your competitors face? You two had to physically stop yourselves from laughing your ass off

Dude was so panicked at that information they instantly left.

Oh how it was to be the most powerful of the fashion industry

You and Velvettte might not of been close

But oh how revenge can bring two stubborn people together.

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futureplayboibunnie · 1 year

Text

Spiderman Kiss

Miguel O’Hara x fem! Black Cat! reader

part 2 (18+)

it took me so damn long to write this but here we are. a few of y’all wanted a part two with some steamy times so i shall provide (this shit is so long i’m sorryyyy) this man makes it so easy to write angsty smut i swear.

warnings: dirtytalk, pnv, angsty fluffy yet flirtatious idek anymore, finger sucking. jusy filth all together (may god forgive my soul)

You left Miguel. You left him shattered. You left him wanting more. The kiss was still lingering on his lips.

The rain dripped through his hair, the clouds rumbling above him and darkening with every second that passed after you left him. Miguel thought he looked like an idiot dangling upside down watching an empty space that once carried your perfect frame. He was afraid your scent would fade with his memory, he couldn't move- he was stiff with need, sadness, and angst. He was scattered and he was sure the furrow of his brows expressed that tenfold.

Miguel didn't know what to do. He doesn't know what to do with you.

So many questions melded into his head- he wasn't sure if he wanted to follow his brain or his dick. But his gut was telling him to not let you leave right now. There was nothing he could do though. Miguel had to tamper his own desires down, he had to put his other spiders first. He had to put the damn multiverse first. God, he gave up too much to quit now but a part of him wanted to relieve that pressure...he wanted to relieve that pressure with you.

Miguel groaned as he dragged himself out of his head and walked up the side of the building he was on, swinging from building to building taking in the dark horizon as if to reflect his mood, the rain becoming heavier on his back, beating at his mind like a punching bag. Miguel used this time swinging to contemplate what he wanted, it was simple: he wanted you...but he had other responsibilities. The thunder and lightning rocked above him, souring his mood. All he could think about was how stupid he was, falling for someone he couldn't have, someone he shouldn't want. That bleeding heart of his was going to get him killed.

You arrived at your apartment before the rain got too heavy and you couldn't conceal the side smile that was painted all over your face- like you were laughing at an inside joke only you knew. Your kiss with Miguel was still tingling on top of your lips and a blush stained your face ever since. It really went against everything you stood for - wanting the good guy. Well, he wasn't known for being that good...but far too much of a goody-two-shoes for you.

Your apartment was gloomy, a blue hue seeped through the windows as you sighed into the cold empty space. You knew if Miguel was here he would obliterate anything in his path, you swallowed hard at the thought. That dull ache crawled back into your lower stomach and the hairs on your neck stood to attention just thinking about him. Jesus. You threw your umbrella into a dark corner before unbuttoning your trenchcoat and throwing it on the back of the couch. Your boots clacked against the hardwood floor as you went to the kitchen to fix yourself a stiff drink- you needed it tonight so you would forget fucking yourself lazily with only Miguel on your mind, you were hoping it would soften the blow of how pathetic you had become over one kiss with a man you were sure would choose the multiverse over you.

Miguel was at your apartment, hanging outside of your window to see if you were there and you just disappeared to the kitchen. He shimmied your window open quietly and crawled inside, slightly surprised that he fit. He stood up and the first thing his eyes caught onto was the mass amount of stolen paintings you were probably pawning off. Oh, bad girl. Very bad indeed. His eyes were fixed on the doorframe, waiting for you to emerge.

You ruffled your hair, walking out to sprawl on your couch and drink the kiss away even though it was already seared to the forefront of your mind. Looking up, your pulse skyrocketed and a gasp fell sharply from your throat. You dropped your damn drink on your floor. Miguel was happy with the response it was apparent with the smirk that painted his face.

‘’What the fuck?’’ You breathed, clutching at your heart to calm your raising chest. It wasn't working. You weren't sure if it was the fact that he scared you half to death or it was that he was here right now when you were about to strip naked and moan all the feelings away. ‘’Why do all Spider-people hate using fucking doors?’’ You questioned brashly as your foot swiped away at the broken shards of glass that adorned your floor, you'll deal with it later. He was your main focus now. It was like you manifested him.

‘’I didn't scare you, did I?’’He boasted and it made you want to kick his stupidly perfect teeth in, rip out his fangs, put them in a frame, and hang it on your wall. He had this smug look on his face and it was like he was reveling in your reaction.

"You didn't.’’ You lamented hard-eyed scowl and all. You stalked up to him like a smiling assassin looking as hungry as ever, a plan obviously forming in your head but he couldn't see through it. Inches were separating you and he had to tamper down the urge to just grab you. 'I wasn't expecting you back so soon.’’ You exhorted, lithe tongue wetting your lips- reaching for the inside joke. Miguel didn't respond, he was too fucking enthralled by your sheer presence to say anything meaningful. Suddenly, your palm went to his chest and pushed down aggressively hard. ‘’Sit.’’ You ordered endearingly, a sugar coating to the venom you were hiding as your eyes went doe. His eyes daren't waver from yours, they were wide and needy...something you never would've associated with Miguel O'Hara. You sat him down on your couch. ‘’I'll be right back.’’

A plan resided within you, you were going to do what you've always seemed to do with him: toy with him, play with him like you would with a cat and laser pen. It was one of the only constants you had with him. You sauntered and disappeared your way to the kitchen and a wicked idea started to form in your head- the more you thought about it, the more insane it was. But you didn't care. Every second you spent with him was just another semblance of your rationality withering away. You wondered if he affected all women like this- on the brink of insanity. The idea of him with another woman made you wince slightly. Instinctively, you kicked off your boots and shimmied out of your dress, also discarding the underwear and bra that covered you. Smiling to yourself, you grabbed another glass and poured out some whiskey for him like a doting housewife.

Miguel's fingers dug into his thighs, his patience wearing thin as the uncertainty and hunger weren't reaching a healthy equilibrium. He didn't like to be kept waiting. He resented it, his tapping foot and hard face were a clear reflection of that. He raked an exasperated hand through his hair and then he heard soft footsteps behind him. Finally. A flash of skin pierced his peripheral...and his mouth popped open, gaping a hole into your face as he drank you in like a thirsting animal. You were naked in front of him, wearing nothing but an innocent smile for a scene so obscenely filthy. You extended your hand to offer him the drink, acting so obviously coy.

‘’Thirsty?’’

Miguel's eyes were glued to yours, his mind was bugged with white noise and static as you stood there so innocently. Oh, you filthy bitch. You fucking liar. It was like time was frozen as he grabbed the glass from your hand. Miguel suddenly stood up, one massive hand grabbed your waist making you stumble back a few steps and the other crushed the glass with the might of his palm, he was surprised that you didn't even flinch but he was adamant about not showing it. You didn't deserve the privilege after toying with him like this: he was fiending for you. Miguel's grip on your waist was piercing and firm, lolling your head back to look into his eyes was a brutal mistake, they were aglow with rage and want that was slightly terrifying but also oddly thrilling at the same time, the sensation clawed at your throat and you were absorbing every second of it.

‘’Now what's all this?’’ He chuckled menacingly, it was like he was assessing you and the sly smile wired on his face was a large indicator of his greed. A clawed finger went to stroke your face. ‘’Hm?’’

‘’I got tired of waiting on you.’’ Surprising yourself with your own ability to breathe when he's touching you like this.

"I can see why that must be... frustrating...for you.’’ His gaze lowered and raked down your naked body, eating you with his eyes like he was a dog starved. “I can taste how wet you are.” Miguel mumbled as his wandering hands traced their way down your body, leaving a pattern of goosebumps in his wake until he reached your aching heat. '”You want me to make it better?” His fingers teased your entrance, waiting for verbal confirmation of how you wanted him to fuck you.

“I don't just want you...Miguel, I need you. I thought you'd know that by now.” You hoped your desperation would make him get the fucking hint. Now he was acting all patient and stretching it out, you just wanted him to play with you. Instead, he retracted his fingers. You shuddered as his warmth left you, the flames of desire were now roaring but all you could give him was a cold look at his callousness.

“Oh, you need me? Que maravilla... You're spoiling me.” He whispered in your ear then pulled back from you.

You gripped onto his suit and pulled him back into you, desperate eyes searching his. “Now give me what I want.” You sounded way more needy than he anticipated and he loved it. “Please.”

Miguel chuckled lowly, his large hand gripping your cheeks to make you pout and he mocked it like you were a whiny kid. “I've always wanted to fuck your face.”

You were too stiff to reply, his fingers dug into your skin and all you could do was moan.

“Would you let me?”

‘’Perhaps you fancy my pure heart, maybe I should feed it to you.’’

‘’Yeah, I'll do that later.’’ His promise was threateningly genuine and it made you gulp. Miguel suddenly grabbed you as if you weighed nothing and threw you over his shoulder, his apathetic palm smacking roughly against your backside as he dragged you to your bedroom, you yelped at his brashness. ‘’Stop squirming baby. Relax for me.’’

Miguel kicked your bedroom door open before you could even give in to his demands. He threw you on the bed, and without a second to lose you sat at the edge of it, you spread your legs wider for him. He grasped your chin so you were directly looking up into his scorching eyes- that look on your face was sinful. Miguel wasn't sure if was a religious man, not after everything that happened to him but if there was a time to believe in God it would be right now. You can't talk or think properly, it was the most ironic thing he's ever witnessed. You were always so...prepared, so intelligent, and challenging, it was interesting to see this side of you. He stood tall between your parted legs and the silence that boomed between you two was crackling through the air, Miguel's face was unamused as his fingers lightly traced your cheek- an odd form of tenderness in comparison to the filthy shit he said to you about 3 minutes ago. It was like it was the mercy before he was about to eat you whole.

‘’Fucking gorgeous.’’ Miguel muttered drunkenly, his darkening gaze surveying you intently as if you were under a microscope. He memorized every detail and frame of your desperate, whiny face. His thumb brushed the soft flesh of your bottom lip, all you could do was blink up at him dumbly. 'Come on...open up for me.' He urged when his fingers teased your lips, you opened your mouth and your tongue welcomed his large fingers, twisting and turning against the skin. A small shiver rippled through his body as you practically drooled over his fingers.

Mine. Was all he could think. Mine. All mine. No one else's. Miguel's heart skipped a little, a spark setting in his chest at the idea.

He was getting more and more impatient the longer you deepthroated his fingers, it was a little harrowing to see his deepest desires turn into a real-life experience. When he kissed you he thought that you wouldn't reciorocate or that you would kill him for even assuming such a preposterous thing, but no. You wanted him. The way he wanted you. If he were a smarter man he would bury the thought of you, he'd let another man want you up close, not from a distance like he does- but he just couldn't. He couldn't let you go and he resented it.

You just gave him a blank look when he retracted his fingers from your mouth, you wondered if his claws would come out when they were in the deep chasms of your throat, you were unsure if he was about to rip your vocal cords out. Miguel's palm instantly pinched at your cheeks again and he full force-bounced you back to lay flat on the bed. He loomed over you, his other hand sliding between your bodies to feel the softness of your skin, a small layer of sweat adding a little sparkle to your already glowing body. Why was he fucking dragging this along? Here you were, naked and wet, ready to be devoured and he insists on taking his sweet time. The multiverse becomes more and more unstable the longer he's with you. The unsettling thought made you frown and Miguel clocked onto it.

“What's with the frown?”

“Too slow, hurry up.” You moaned in his ear. His eyes darted to the contents of your room and he smirked.

“These paintings...they aren't yours, are they?” Miguel cooed at you. “It's cute that you think you're sneaky.”

“You're one to talk, following me around like an obsessed fan. It's cute.” You bit back at him, his teeth unclenched enough for a low moan to slip out. His mouth followed the trail of goosebumps down your neck, your body started to arch as his mouth captured your nipple, and your eyes widened as you felt his fangs dig into you.

“I want to fucking drain myself in you.” Miguel grunted and you quite literally felt the crunching of bones in his jaw. His nose trailed up your chest, inhaling your scent and committing it to memory.

“Take it off and fuck me or I'll find someone else who's-“ A gasp fell from your lips when he wrappled his fist around your hair and yanked it back. He thre your body around on the bed until your head plummeted to the soft pillows.

“I dare you to finish that sentence hermosa.”Miguel's fingers plunged into you, knuckle-deep feeling at you- so warm, so wet. You were dripping around his fingers. “Come on...finish it.” He moved his fingers in a circular motion, his thumb rubbed and pressed at your clit. A wave of jealousy washed over him at your words, the idea of someone else doing what he's doing to you made his eyes glow a dim red.

“'Miguel-“ He rubbed faster and harder.

“Someone else who's better than me? Someone who's...stronger than me? Someone who can...fuck you like this?’’He trusted his fingers harder into you and it made you cry out. ‘’Apologize.’’

“But I'm not sorry.”

In a flash, his hologram suit exposed his bare skin and your eyes widened at his cock slapping against your thigh. Your gaze wandered down and you couldn't conceal your gape, he was rock hard and the tip was sticky. “I'll make you sorry.”

“You're a bastard M-“ He cut you off with a sharp thrust into your warm wet pussy, Miguel was ambitious as always, glaring a hole into that pretty face to see just how well he was fucking you. Your fingers dug into the skin of his back and clawed, you drew an inkling of blood and he groaned at the sensation. The look on your face was priceless. Your moans bounced off of the walls, growing louder and louder with every thrust, he reached a spot within that you didn't know fucking existed. He thought your body was a work of fucking art, a thin sheen of sweat coated your skin, and every dip and curve was sculpted by Greek Gods. Miguel grabbed onto the headboard as his pace was getting more and more violent, his fist clenched white and his claws dug into the wood.

“You always this tight?” He questions breathlessly, Jesus Christ it was like you were vacuum sealed to his dick. You were sucking him dry. Your face scrunched up cutely as you whined at him, and your hands went to the sheets holding onto dear life. “No, don't clutch the sheets, grab onto me instead.” for once, you actually obeyed. You gripped onto his hair instead and tugged onto it. Miguel grabbed your legs and lifted them onto his broad shoulders, he sucked air into his teeth and his muscles tensed as you squeezed him even harder. “What, no smartass remark hermosa?”

“Oh my God.” You whimpered, and he kissed you passionately to muffle your pretty little sounds, absorbing them onto his tongue. His cock was fucking magic, he stretched you out so well it fucking hurt. The heated curl in your stomach was about to unfurl, the knots were twisting and turning with every brutal kiss and clash of teeth.

“Cum for me. You know you want to.” Miguel boasted like a proud high school jock. The slap of skin echoed around the whole room, he felt your stringy wetness cover him as a raw moan escaped from your lips. Your body arched against the bed as the waves of desire resounded throughout your entire body. You wanted to giggle, you had never come so hard before. It was kind of revolutionary. He fucked you through it, the kisses getting more desperate, passionate, and sloppy as if to mimic his pounding. “Tell me you want it.”

“I want it Miguel, please just - fuck.”with those sweet words, you could feel him spurt inside of you, the warm sticky liquid coating your insides. His body tensed with every stroke, completely emptying himself inside of you. Lord, you milked him dry and his groan was an indicator of that. You felt proud of yourself, Miguel O'Hara being breathless was something you never anticipated…well that was before he kissed you and everything went to pure chaos.

You lowered your legs from his shoulders and wrapped them around his waist, your lips meeting his tenderly. He liked it when you raked your slender fingers through his hair. He sighed before he pulled out of you, his gaze landed upon your pussy and the mess you both made. You chuckled at each other like a couple of teenagers, lightly blushing and doing the devil's tango. Miguel rolled next to you, both of you panting at what you had just experienced. He was so...good...at that.

The soft dim light lit up the room, the window outside casting a pale shadow of the New York skyline outside. You turned your head to Miguel, his angled features looking stoic as ever. It was obvious his mood changed but you didn't know why. Your cheek was buried in the pillow as you laid on your stomach, your hair tumbling down looking sexed out as always and he almost wanted to laugh, he definitely would've if the weight of the multiverse wasn't on his shoulders. Your hand flew to his and ruffled the disheveled tufts and he practically melted into your touch.

“You're a million miles away.” You repeated what you said earlier tonight before he kissed you. Miguel moved closer to you, leaning up on the divinely carved headboard as you lay there playing with his hair. He was agitated but a sliver of sadness warped through him and he didn't like it. His eyes latched onto yours, heady and scorching, his eyebrows twinging in sadness as he stared into your beautiful face- like it was the last time he'd be seeing it. He opened his mouth to speak but instead, he grabbed the hand that was in his hair and brought it to his lips, kissing your soft glowing flesh and tasting your sweet flushed skin.

“Mi amor.” 'He whispered, placing your palm on his face.

“Oh, that's new.” You smiled, and his eyes lingered on the curve of your ass. He had to suppress a shit-eating grin, his hand landed and stroked the skin of your thighs. “Am I still 'mi amor' even when I've been a bad girl?” You blinked up at him and then stared at all the stolen artwork and sculptures littering your room and adorning every wall, he just squinted your eyes in a judgemental manner at your question, he keep transitioning in and out of silence. It was obvious something was bothering him.

“What is it, Miguel?”

After a palpable silence, he finally opened his mouth, his gaze downcast as if he didn't want to look at you made you all the more confused. “It hurts me. How much I want you...I don't want to be tragically wounded and damaged by demons I can't escape... I just want to be with you.” He began unraveling what was eating at him, baring apart his battered soul and heavy mind, the expression your face made was one of...sorrow. “I don’t want to leave you alone. I can’t but I’m sure you’ve firgured that out by now.”

Miguel's confession echoed through your very soul and tolled at your brain, your heart on the other hand was thumping in your chest and beating at your fingertips. You didn't know what to do or say. You gripped his chin so he could face you, his hold on your thighs becoming stronger.

“You're fighting yourself and you're not even fighting fair. God you have no idea, do you?”

“I don't know what to do.” He replied back softly and it broke your heart seeing him so vulnerable with you, his eyes were quaking in fear. To hear him talk so lowly of himself made guilt pang at your heartstrings, if only he knew what good he's done.

“Have you got any idea how much good you've done? Everything you've done for spiders in every single world?” You urged him to see reason, he was always so damn rational. Why wasn't he seeing it? “Being Spiderman is a sacrifice, you know this. If that means losing sometimes...you must let it pass unhindered. But that doesn’t change how much I want you. ”

“No.” Miguel replied curtly, he knew you were right but he just couldn’t handle the idea of losing you right now. He just grabbed your face and kissed you, toppling you onto his lap to forget all about it and just melt into your warm embrace.

#miguel o’hara #spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara angst #spiderman across the verse #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #miguel ohara

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