𝘾𝙊𝙉𝙁𝙀𝙎𝙎𝙄𝙊𝙉.
sum: kageyama tobio and you have loved each other throughout your lives. unsaid things must be sad especially in the gray endless sea of adulthood.
tags: reader is a bit of a dramatic crybaby who’s desperately trying to be mature. fem reader. kageyama’s a bit of a snarky ass in this but its fine. food mention, very self indulgent. let know if i missed anything!!!! 2.3k words!
“Don’t go out with him.” He says, You sigh.
“It’s 2 hours before the date I can’t cancel it.’ You explain.
You’ve had to explain yourself to him every hour until your date. A part of you is exasperated and the other is fond. You’ve known Kageyama Tobio all your life, maybe even longer. You’ve been by each other's sides through it all, even when he went to Karasuno instead of Aoba Johsai like he said he would. Maybe the reason he’s always at the throat of potential partners is due to the nature of your friendship you both have developed. You’ve been at every game, every airport departure and landing that you could be at. You’ve made him breakfast for his first game every season and dinner every evening of the last game of the season since middle school: pork cutlet with an egg for him, miso soup with as much tofu and nori as you can fit into the pot, with bowls of rice for you.
A part of you wonders what it is about Tobio that has earned your unwavering devotion in terms and conditions of your friendship but you have yet to find the answer. Or rather the answer you want to face. You already know that you have been in love with Tobio for as long as university, maybe even before that.
That wasn't the problem. The problem was that Kageyama has more balls than brains and has never once been moved, shaken, or touched by any aspect of love or flirtation and as such you have no idea what he looks like when he is interested. So even if there is a possibility, an iota, and inkling of the idea that Kageyama Tobio returns your feelings that are rooted, stemmed, and bloomed for the better part of your life - you’d have no way to know.
When you can't achieve greatness you settle for mediocrity. Which has led you through relationships of the same standards you’ve chased - dull and non-inspirational; just anything to rid deep navy eyes from your mind for even more than a minute. A simple-minded push and pull.
Like ocean waves lapping at your ankles.
They were short-lived and pretty packaged distractions, all of which have led you back to the dark-haired blue eyed monster you were running from. You wonder if this is some sort of punishment for a previous life’s sins. Doomed to love never to be loved.
Tobio has had it with you, he swears as he watches you float around the corner to the corner of your apartment, starting to get ready for your accursed date. His dark brow and almost pouted mouth tell all one needs to know about how he feels the direction that your night will take and he's soured at how honest you make him. He always prided himself on his ability to keep it cool through all aspects of his life, when pushed into a corner during a game or squeezing the last bit of tutoring you gave him for an exam during finals but he hates, no loathes how you make him frown and scoff and roll his eyes so easily as if he’s like Atsumu who rarely hides his displeasure.
Tobio throughout all his life can name only a few things that made him truly and deeply happy - volleyball, grilled meat, milk, and most importantly you. He remembered the joy he felt on that winter morning in his chest when he saw your face, frosty and rosy from the cold in the stands cheering him each year at nationals no matter what. That joy has endured the scorching heat of your arguments and the freezing cold of your time apart. You are the cornerstone of his life, his own North Star in every sense of the word. That's why he thinks he drank your milk (which you still hate) at lunch when you were 6 so you could go play with him. And why he’s kept every note, letter, and shitty valentine card you’ve made him - you always gave him a card on Valentine's and he always got you matcha ice cream for White Day because you don’t like chocolate that much.
Tobio has known he’s loved you all his life, he has so many unimportant but unshareable moments with you he doesn’t think he could have this with someone else. He watches you tuck your hair behind your ear and he thinks about the time you stayed late at his place studying for finals. A cheap, canned matcha latte and a milk carton from a vending machine drip condescension onto the small table and you reach back, tucking a lock of hair from under your glasses behind your ear and Tobio stares and falls harder than he did before. He's patting his knee the day after your middle school graduation, cherry blossom petals stuck to your shoe and he still bows down to tie it for you. A week ago, he walked behind you on some stairs and tugged down your skirt, the back of his knuckles meeting the gap between your thighs and knees.
He would spend the rest of his night staring at the ridges of bone and skin that touched you so sweetly in awe - he didn’t think he was capable of handling something so carefully.
The clock in your kitchen tolls 7:30 and he glares at it like it’s his mortal enemy as if it’s to blame for the fact that the weird song and dance you two have spent your entire life performing is going off script, that he has to give you away, that someone who wants to cut your and his’s dance, It makes him feel vile and sick.
You appear in front of him, a vision and more dressed in black, carefully matching clothes that brings out the best of your features and he smells your perfume - something sweet but dark. Fiddling with your earring you spin and turn in front of him and all you are met with is a blank stare.
“You should cancel with him.” He repeats himself and your shoulders sag, you sigh and he can hear your own note to self; don’t ask Tobio for outfit opinions. Your berry-colored lips pout at him in the way they’ve always had since you were 7.
“I’m not canceling Tobio so tell me if I look good or not.” You almost whine out and a part of Tobio purrs at how he makes you act so honestly - it seems you both bring out that quality in each other. He shakes his head, he can feel his fringe tickling his forehead in the movement.
“You look beautiful - you always do. Why do you even bother? You’re gonna go and then come back, never text him back and talk about how he’s boring.” He rattles off the pattern that he’s seen you go through at least 3 times this month, and the pattern you’ve gone through before. You swallow and wet your lips, eyes meeting his before you look away.
‘You’ve never been able to look people in the eyes when you admit to something.’
“Does my unsuccessful love life annoy you? I know it’s not the most exciting one out of all your friends.” You deflect with a joke and you look up at him from the corner of your eyes and let your fingers tuck into the pockets of your coat. His face sours,
“It’s not that. It’s annoying how you settle for so little when you deserve better.” His tongue burns at his words, desperate to say what he’s wanted to say to you for so long. “Me. Choose me.”
“Yeah? What is it that I deserve? I’m lonely and I’m just trying to find someone to love - someone to love me. What is it to you? I don’t think you’ve ever liked anyone before.” You’re voice trembles at the end and his shoulders drop. His frown slackens and he sighs through his nose.
“You deserve someone who knows you and actually tries to. Not some random guy who’s planning on taking you to that Italian restaurant you hate.” You snort at the last bit - he’s right. The man who you were going out with tonight insisted on taking you to a restaurant you hated in the part of the city you hated - the food wasn’t good and traffic around there is horrible and it’s a long walk from the subway and -
“And you were wrong about something. I do like someone, I’ve liked them for a long time.” Your smile fades and you push his shoulder, the air shifts and you almost look angry at him,
“And you never told me? You asshole.” You practically hiss at him and his shoulder takes the brunt of your weak slap. He shrugs and cocks his head to the side.
“I could never tell her, life often got in the way and she’s always going on boring dates - she’s even going on one right now.” You pause as his words - sarcastic words sink into your brain and you have half a mind to slap Tsukishima for teaching him sarcasm.
“What, what do you mean by that.” You ask but you mean like a sentence and Tobio knows, he knows that because he’s loved you all the years in his life he didn’t have a soft, squishy head. His hands clench at his side as the words that burn on his tongue finally spark and ignite.
“You, I like you. To be honest I think I’ve loved you since we were toddlers.” He speaks and it feels true and you don’t know how to respond. Your brain is split down the middle both half angry and half glad. Tears sting your eyes and they burn because you line your waterline and you don’t want to smudge so you begin to shake him - well try to shake the 6 ft, professional volleyball player, before you.
“You are such a jerk! Why are you confessing to me right now when I’m going on a date?” You hiss at him and he snorts at your defensiveness before taking your hands in his and you come to a complete stop as you process how his hands fit around yours.
Perfectly.
“Because I am a jerk and I have more balls than brains, remember?” He teases you and you bite into your lip to stop from either laughing or crying.
“I don’t know why I never told you, our lives moved so fast it never felt like I could. You with your career and me with mine. We were always apart, always going our separate ways.” He tells you and you know he has a point but love makes you bratty and snot-nosed.
“So, I would have stayed if you told me sooner.” You whine and he shakes his head and this is the first you see Kageyama Tobio smile soft and gentle and you almost feel your brain melt out your ears at much of a man he looks now.
“Then you wouldn’t have done all the things you wanted to do abroad. It wouldn’t be fair.” Your tears are running now and your face feels hot and you’re sure you look like a crying 5-year-old and not like the put-together 20-something-year-old you were trying to look like not even 10 minutes ago. You feel his hand come up to your face and swipe at your cheek with his thumb and you whine at how your makeup is running.
“When did you become such a crybaby? I thought university would mellow you out. The last time you cried like this was when we watched that Pokemon movie together when we were 15.” His hand is pushed away from you and he hides the fondness on his face poorly - you look like a raccoon, with rings of black around your eyes.
“Shut up - you’re so stupid Tobio. I hate your guts.” You say and don’t mean it. He knows he’s stupid so he just smiles and huffs good-naturedly at your watery jeers. It’s hard to take you seriously when you’ve bawled like a baby in front of him.
“So? Do you like me too?” His voice is tender and you pause from rubbing your red-rimmed eyes and you look at him like he’s grown a second head. Your laugh is like this little sound that’s a mixture of a hiccup and an exasperated giggle. You rub your eyes and ignore the specks of mascara decorating your palms.
“Yes, yes I like you. Why else would I beg your mom to teach me exactly how you like your pork cutlet? “
“I just thought you are a kind person.” He shrugs.
You shake your head, “I’m not a kind person, you just bring that out of me.”
“You make me kind too. I know I’m stupid and brash and I don’t know much about anything other than volleyball but I promise to know you. To love you like I have for all my life and for more.” Tobio confessed and he looks into your eyes and you find yourself with a new set of tears in your eyes and you nod, shaky and timid but so incredibly happy.
“I promise to love you too. I’ll make you pork cutlet til I’m 80 and wrinkly and I’ll make sure our pet cat likes you.” You say and you’re serious Tobio fights back to snark about how you just had to bring up the way animals are averse to him. A silence envelopes you both as the realization that the song has ended, and you now hold hands for the first time. His callouses ground you to reality and Tobio can’t believe how soft your hands are on his rough skin.
“So…are you going to cancel your date, now?” He asks, voice still as serious as ever, and you sort, tuck your chin to your chest and fail to keep your shoulders from shaking as you laugh.
“Yes. Yes, I will cancel now.”
You’re laughter rings through the apartment as he raises his hand like a fist in the year and he cheers. The music cuts and you look at him fondly.
You have found greatness after all.
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Spencer's
Summary: You and Joel visit Spencer's. You snag some toys, then steal some batteries from Joel for those toys. He's not pleased.
Warnings: DRAMATIC!Joel, implied age gap, Joel is jealous of certain inanimate objects, Joel is winnie-the-poohing it, overstimulation, masturbation (m/f), general filth, unprotected piv, creampie, brat-taming (if you squint), spanking, use of sex toys, joel is pro-participation trophy, joel reads Savage Love, soft!dom joel, dom!joel, mall rats!joel
A/N: thank you thank you thank you to @papipascalispunk for editing and proofreading this story. I am so thankful for her help and lucky to know her 🩷
W/C: 4.3k
It’s patrol again. You’re in that old mall with Joel. And he’s quiet today, like he has been the past couple weeks. No shitty comments or dumb jokes. Hardly any of his usual grumbling, just quiet and stoic. He’s wearing a green flannel, sleeves rolled up. Beard recently trimmed, his hair a little less unkempt than usual. And he seems nervous, antsy, bouncing his foot as you both sit on a bench, taking a short break.
You could help him relax.
“Victoria’s Secret is back that way. Kinda wanna try on some more lingerie,” you suggest, hoping he’ll take the bait you’re offering.
“Pass,” Joel says, “You know I don’t like that place.”
“You could watch. We had fun last time we did that, didn’t we?” you reach for Joel’s arm and try to pull him from his seat and toward that dreaded underwear store. He doesn’t budge.
“Joel?” you ask, confused by his reluctance.
“I don’t know about all that, hon. Thinkin’ we should go to that bookstore, find some more books for the library back home,” Joel points toward a nearby Barnes & Noble, “Yeah?”
You shrug, “Sure, after.”
“After what?”
“This,” you lean toward Joel and grip onto the collar of his flannel, pushing it back to expose more of his neck. Pressing your lips to his throat, nipping and kissing the skin as your hand trails down his torso, fumbling with his belt.
You’re not wasting time.
“Oh,” Joel breathes shakily, “That.”
“Yeah,” you say with a satisfied smirk, “That.”
You nudge his head to the side with your nose and try to push him back into the bench, pushing his flannel further over his clavicle to expose more of his neck, but he stays firm. He grabs the hand fumbling with his belt and pulls it away. “I don’t think so,” he says. You pull away immediately and Joel looks at you with sympathy, concern.
“What’s wrong? What’d I do?” you ask, feeling insecure, self-conscious all of the sudden.
“You didn’t do anything,” Joel says.
It’s been a while since you’ve been with him, he knows you’re probably antsy for more because he is too. But he’s feeling apprehensive. Each time you’ve fucked, it’s been quick and dirty. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course. He’s not sure what exactly your history with other men is, but Joel fancies himself a gentleman and believes in the campsite rule. Believes that you deserve better than what he’s been giving you. Starting with, say, a bed. You’re exhausting, troublesome, and you’re like a tick the way you get under Joel’s skin, but you still deserve decency.
Decency won’t stop him from fucking the living daylights out of you, though. He’ll just be a little more gentlemanly about it all, moving forward.
Joel clears his throat, “You’re young, you know. And I–”.
“And you what?” your tone is snarky.
“Jesus Christ, motormouth,” Joel snaps, “Would you let me finish speaking before you start arguin’?”
You shrug but remain silent, motioning for him to continue.
“I just think we should do things by the book from now on. Dinner, talking, that kinda stuff. You know, I just want things to be sort of…nice for you. I dunno the word exactly, just...nice, I guess.” You watch Joel blush as he struggles to spell it out.
“Do you mean romantic? Like a date?" Excitedly, you gasp, "Are you taking me to the Rainforest Cafe?”
Joel stares at you blankly before speaking. Rainforest Cafe is a no-go, you're guessing. “No. Not romantic. And not like a date. A date is for two people that actually like each other.”
And just like that, the attitude is back. He just exudes charisma.
You pout, “You don’t like me?”
“No, I don’t. I barely tolerate you. But, you know. I still wanna - want you - I want us to…I don’t know,” Joel groans. It’s entertaining, watching him try to spit it out.
Awh. He barely tolerates you.
You smile, “I barely tolerate you, too.” But Joel won’t look at you, keeps his eyes focused ahead. Still nervous, he fidgets with his hands and continues bouncing his leg.
“Was thinkin’ tomorrow,” Joel mutters quietly, “Y’could come over. Could be…nice. Maybe. Probably not, ‘cause you’ll be there.”
“Yeah. Sounds nice. Maybe. Probably not. ‘Cause you’ll be there too,” you mock his low tone.
Joel glares at you, “Seven. My place. Be on time.”
—
After your break, you explore the mall further. There’s a store called Spencer’s, which looks neat. Joel agrees, unaware of exactly the kind of store Spencer’s is, so you both go inside. There’s funny t-shirts, cool knick-knacks and tchotchkes. Joel is looking at various lava lamps as you make your way toward the back, and he follows you.
Holy shit.
There’s all sorts of things on this back wall. Handcuffs, lingerie, lubricants, vibrators, dildos, costumes.
“Wow,” you say, “Looks like your kind of party, Joel.”
Joel rolls his eyes, annoyed, “Shut up.”
“This looks nice. Not romantic at all,” as you poke Joel with a vibrator.
He flinches, “Get that shit offa’ me, freakazoid.”
“We could use it tomorrow. On our not-date,” you smirk.
“Don’t need it,” he huffs.
“Wow. You seem confident about that,” you say. Joel shrugs, a look on his face you can’t quite read. “Whatever. Maybe I’ll take it for myself. You know, for alone time.”
His face falls immediately. Joel, prudish as he may seem, truly does not have an issue with masturbation. It’s natural, it’s human. But something about you doing it makes it a little… jealousy-inducing. The thought of you, one of those toys between your thighs, you making all sorts of pretty noises that he can’t hear; it’s just too much for him. “Yeah, knock yourself out,” he says sarcastically, “You’ll have a lot of fun with a battery-less vibrator.”
“You still have some, don’t you?”
Joel scoffs, “I do. But they’re mine, and I sure as shit ain’t sharin’ with you, ‘specially not for those things.”
“Sharing is caring, you know.”
Joel rolls his eyes, “S’a bold assumption you’re making there. That I care about you.”
Rude.
You poke him with the vibrator again. “Quit that,” he grumbles, “Now stay here a minute. Gonna take a leak, I’ll be right back.” He drops his bag and heads for a private area nearby. You stare at his bag on the floor and wonder if he’s fucking with you, because he never goes anywhere without his bag. Better to be safe than sorry is what he always says. And you know he keeps batteries in that bag.
Ah, fuck it. He won’t know.
There’s a sign that says “buy two toys, get one free”, and you’re not one to pass up a good deal, even if that deal means nothing now being twenty-or-so years into a fungus apocalypse. So you stuff three toys in your bag, along with one of the lava lamps Joel was checking out. You rifle through Joel’s belongings and pull out a handful of batteries, then stuff those into your bag too. Six should do it, hopefully. After twenty years, a lot of them are duds. You’ll try the toys out tonight, then sneakily put the batteries back in Joel’s pack tomorrow night on your not-date. And Joel will be none the wiser.
—-
Joel is livid.
Someone called off patrol today, so he was volunteered by Tommy to fill in. He’d still be back in time for your not-date, and although the change in his plans was not ideal, it’s not what set him off today. No, that was all you.
His radio had died toward the end of his shift. No big deal, he thought. He reached into his pack and fumbled through his belongings to find his spare batteries. Only, they weren’t in his bag. So he searched a little longer before he realized he actually knew exactly where those precious batteries would be. No doubt inside you at the moment.
Was he in danger without a working radio? Could’ve been, but no, not really. Will he never find batteries again? Yes, he will. Joel’s crafty and good at scouting supplies like that, even when supplies are sparse. What did pissed him off, however, is the fact he knows you consciously went behind his back to steal his batteries for those toys. You’ve probably spent all last night and all day today fucking yourself silly, couldn’t have waited just one more day. He feels a little insulted, topping off the jealousy already simmering.
Joel comes back to Jackson around five in the evening. He should be showering, cooking, setting the table, and tidying his house. But instead, he makes a beeline for your place.
He doesn’t bother knocking on your door. He knows you keep it unlocked, something he constantly advises you against. He closes your door, and hears your long and pretty moans coming from upstairs. He’s not sure what’s coming over him or why he cares so much. He prides himself on being level-headed, rational. But all of that’s out the door when he hears your moans, moans that he believes should have been all for him and him alone.
At least he gets to catch you in the act.
Joel tiptoes up your steps, fighting his urge to stomp angrily. Your bedroom door is wide open, lights dim. There’s a lava lamp bubbling next to you on your nightstand. You’re laid out on the bed, legs spread, one toy between your thighs and two others lay next to you. Your eyes are squeezed shut as you moan Joel’s name. It’s a nice touch. Maybe he’ll go easy on you.
Probably not.
He stands in your doorway and clears his throat, “Enjoyin’ yourself?”
“Joel!” you yelp and your eyes fly open. Joel moves to stand next to your bed, his gaze dark and intense, his mouth forming an unamused frown.
“You think you’re slick, don’t you?”
Your words are caught in your throat. Ohh, you are so busted.
“How many’d you steal from me?”
The vibrating dildo you were fucking yourself with is still humming loudly, and in the otherwise silence of your room, it’s deafening. You fumble to try to turn it off.
“Oh, no. Don’t let me interrupt your date. That’d be awful rude of me.”
Too shocked to make any moves, you freeze, dildo still humming away inside you. And as anxious as you feel, you’re equally excited. You’ve picked up on Joel’s jealous side, and you’d be lying if you said some part of you wasn’t trying to rile him up.
“I just, mmmm,” you moan, “Just missed you a lot. Couldn’t wait for tonight.”
“S’that right?”
“Yes, Joel.”
“You missed me so much you decided to deliberately go through my bag and steal my batteries?”, he spits, sarcasm lacing his words, “Yeah hon, sure looks like you missed me, fuckin’ yourself on that plastic cock.”
“Silicone,” you correct, though now definitely isn’t the time to bother with semantics. Joel notices you rocking your hips ever so slightly, chasing your orgasm as subtly as you can. You’re right, right fucking there. He can see it on you, you’ve got that look about you. Your breathing is shaky and your body trembles.
“You’ve got some fuckin’ nerve,” Joel hovers over you, one hand next to you on the bed and his other reaching for your toy.
“Please,” you beg.
“Think you’ve made yourself come enough, impatient goddamn brat,” he mumbles as he pulls the toy away from your center, tossing it aside. You groan and whine in frustration. Just three more seconds, you would have been there.
Fucking Joel.
“I’m at a loss on what to do here, sweetheart,” Joel says as he kicks off his shoes before sitting on your bed, his back against the headboard, “Can’t fuckin’ take those batteries back on account of they’ve all been inside ya.”
“Joel, I did not fuck myself with your batteries. That’s…not how that works.”
“Shut up, wiseass.”
“Joel, I was gonna give them back, I swear. I just wanted–”.
Joel cuts you off, not caring to hear the rest of your explanation, “All half used and out of juice? How generous. Lucky me,” he muses, annoyed.
“Joel–”.
“Don’t think you fuckin’ get it,” he snaps, “Y’got no fuckin’ self control. You’re lyin’ to me, stealin’ from me, sneakin’ around. And it breaks my heart, ‘cause I was startin’ to look forward to our date.”
“Date?” you ask in confusion. Joel’s cheeks turn rosy as he refuses to acknowledge his slip up. The not-date turned actual-date. “Joel.”
“Need to get through to you somehow,” he ignores you, still too upset, “Got a couple different ideas in mind. I guess we’ll have to see which one sticks.”
He pulls you up and over his lap, your head laying on the crumpled sheets. He presses a hand firmly on your neck, holding you in place as he gently runs his other hand over the swell of your ass.
You know what’s coming. And it’s been a long time coming, at that. You've noticed the way Joel looks at you, his angry stare and how he chews on his inner cheek. How his hands ball into fists, like he’s fighting the urge to strangle you. Wrap his hands around your neck and just fucking squeeze.
Crack.
The sting of his hand striking your ass is as delicious as it is painful. He smacks you again, harder. And it’s just as incredible. That sharp bite, how it sends arousal gushing from your core. You can’t help the moan that slips from your mouth.
Joel pulls you off his lap abruptly, onto your knees between his thighs, and faces you towards him. He wears a puzzled expression, like somehow he wasn’t aware that spanking is more of a reward than it is a punishment, at least to you. “Ya weren’t s’posed to enjoy that so much.”
“Joel–”.
“Yeah, we’re not doing that. Fuckin’ weirdo,” he interrupts, shaking his head a little. Joel thinks for a moment, staring at you as he contemplates his next move. His eyes flicker to yours, and you can practically watch the gears in his head begin to turn. “I think,” he lifts his hips to pull both his jeans and boxers down his thighs, and his cock springs free. It’s the first time you’ve really gotten to see it. Long and thick, prominent vein, blushed tip a bit wider than his shaft. Curly dark hair surrounding the base. It’s artwork. “Think we’ll try Plan B,” he says firmly as he reaches forward, wrapping one hand around himself to stroke his member, thumb swiping across the tip.
It should be your hand. And he’s well aware of this, but he’s giving you a taste of your own medicine before moving on to the main event. You extend your arm in front of you, but Joel doesn’t allow it. “Ah ah,” he tuts, slapping your hand away, “You can go play with one of your rubber cocks. Since you love ‘em so goddamn much.” His words are biting, acrimonious.
He’s throwing you off. Joel, who says he couldn’t give a “fiddler’s flying fuck” about you, is upset that your pleasure wasn’t brought on by his hands today. Joel, who barely tolerates you. “Joel, please, I want you. I’m sorry,” you cry, “I need you, Joel, been missing you so much. Please, Joel. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
“Layin’ it on pretty fuckin’ thick, sweetheart.”
You cry in frustration, “Joel, I’m sor-”.
“Cut that shit out. You ain’t sorry. You’re sorry you got caught, ‘cause now you’re in trouble,” Joel keeps stroking himself, taunting you, “This is on you.”
Joel thinks back to when he was a teenager, when his father caught him with a lit cigarette hanging from his lips, how his father’s punishment was to make him smoke the whole pack, and how before he was even halfway through the pack the nicotine had made him sick to his stomach.
Same idea.
Still stroking himself, Joel grabs one of the vibrators sitting next to you. It’s a wand type, light pink in color. He holds down a button and it buzzes to life, “C’mere. Between my legs. Do it now,” his voice is stern, authoritarian. You assume the position. Joel parts your legs wider, pulling your knees back before guiding your hands to hold the backs of your knees, keeping you open nice and wide for him. “You stay like this. Don’t move.” His flannel feels soft and warm on your skin. You feel his hot breath on your neck, his chest rising and falling steadily against your back. Wordlessly, he brings the vibrator to your core. He drags it over your lips, through your folds, coating it with your arousal.
Joel circles your clit with the toy now, and your hips to follow the sensation. The way you’re sighing, moaning, grinding with his movements, Joel can tell you haven’t picked up what he’s putting down yet.
Poor thing. Fucked herself stupid on all these plastic cocks.
“Yeah, Joel, like that. Fuck, feels good,” you breathe, “Right there. S’good.”
Joel’s silence is disconcerting. There’s no dirty talk, no snide remarks like usual. But you’re too worked up to worry about why. Within seconds, you’re coming. Sweet, breathy moans and whines falling from your lips as you ride out your high.
Joel presses the button on the vibrator, taking it up a notch. The buzz is louder, the feeling intense, nearing on too much. Finally, he speaks, “I really do hope your thievery was worth it, sweetheart,” he whispers in a low, raspy voice behind the shell of your ear, “Now tell me, exactly how many batteries am I short?”
It’s getting uncomfortable now. You wrap your fingers around Joel’s wrist and try to pull him away from your core but he doesn't budge, “What? Joel, let up.”
“What’d I say? Hands on your thighs. Y’don’t move,” he barks. You do as you’re told, and he hums in satisfaction, “Now answer my question.”
“I don’t know, six? I–oh, fuck. I was gonna give them back. Please, Joel, I can’t– ”
Joel scoffs, “Six? You stole six batteries. What, were you stashing them for winter? Squirrelier than I thought.”
“No, just…you know how sometimes, they-they-they, and they’re old, so–Joel, m’serious–”, you whine, almost pleading for mercy from the overstimulation he’s causing.
Joel pulls the vibrating wand from your core, and you exhale in relief, resting your head back on his shoulder. He’s showing you mercy. Or so it seems.
But the sound of the vibrator clicking on is back in an instant. Slightly different pitch this time. You pull your head off his shoulder and watch in shock as he guides it to your pussy, notching the longer end inside. He doesn’t bother going slow as he parts your insides with the toy. You worked yourself up plenty.
“Whatever. Damage is done. So here’s the deal,” Joel starts, “You’re gonna come for me six times, one for each of the six batteries you stole from me. You’re gonna keep count, too. Got one down, right?” but you’re a mess of whimpers and whines, which is the wrong answer, “Or are we doin’ more?”
“One, one, we’re at one. Oh, god. Joel, please. Please.”
“Y’don’t even know what you’re beggin’ for,” Joel mumbles. His hand crosses over both his and your bodies to hold your jaw firmly, keeping your sight set on the picture between your thighs. The toy sliding in and out of you, wet and sticky with your juices. The shorter end sliding over your clit. He’s hitting your g-spot with precision, each thrust sending you closer to the edge. Within seconds, you’re seeing stars as Joel fucks you through it.
“Count,” he demands. “T-two,” you moan, but Joel doesn’t relent. A third washes over you just as quickly as the previous one. “Three, s’too much Joel, please,” you beg.
“Quit whinin’,” he mocks, “I’m goin’ easy on ya, considering the fuckin’ stunt you pulled. You wanna make it more?”
“No, please. M’so tired.”
“Quit your whinin’. S’a punishment. Ain’t supposed to feel good,” he growls, “You’re gonna give me my batteries’ worth out of these little fuck toys. Make you come until you can’t fuckin’ walk.” You’re still holding your knees back as Joel fucks you through your third orgasm. The hand that was holding your jaw is now traveling lower, groping your breasts and teasing your nipples. Hot, salty tears of overstimulation and exhaustion roll down your cheeks. You’re shaking, trembling, and he knows it’s all too much. He wonders how many times you came before he showed up. So Joel decides to show a bit of mercy, feeling that pulling three orgasms from you is sufficient enough. For now.
He pulls the toy from your pussy and tosses it on your nightstand. He gives you a moment to breathe, to let your legs down. He rubs deep and firm circles into your sore, aching hips before lifting your limp, pliant body up to straddle his lap and face him. His eyes are soft and sincere, his quiet way of telling you he’s still here. And when this is all done, he’s gonna take care of you.
He’s still gonna fuck the living daylights out of you, though.
“You’re doin’ so good,” he tells you, “Almost there.” You nod and Joel lifts your hips, guiding the tip of his cock to your entrance and pulling your aching pussy down onto his cock with a soft groan, slower than he did with the toy. He knows you’re sore.
He fucks you deep and hard, just how you like. You fall forward, resting your forehead on the thick line of muscle between his neck and shoulder. Whimpering his name into his hot skin, moaning somewhere between agony and ecstasy, “I-Joel, I'm serious. It’s t-too much, please.”
“I know it is,” he whispers as he bounces you on his cock, chasing his own release, hanging by a thread with the way you’re squeezing around him. You think Joel is feeling sympathetic maybe, as he decides to offer a compromise. “I’ll make–oh, fuck,” he gasps, “Make ya a deal.” You mumble incoherently against him, and Joel sits you upright, his cock stiff and filling deep inside you.
“Right here. Look at me,” he breathes out, gently gripping your jaw to tilt your face up. You look at him with burning, tear stained eyes. He can see the exhaustion on your face. “Breathe, sweetheart,” he coos, “How many left you owe me?”
“Three,” you answer, breathlessly.
“Mhm,” he mumbles, rolling his hips slowly, “I know you’re tired, honey. Probably pretty sore. S’that right?”
“Yes, Joel.”
“Christ, poor thing. What a mess you got yourself into. I know you didn’t mean to, hmm?” You nod in agreement quietly as he fucks you a little more gently, offering you a slight break. “Just curious, wanted to have some fun, huh? I know how ya are,” his tone is soft and kind, but still teasing.
You smile with a slight shrug.
“Tell me you’re sorry for stealing, and you only have to give me one more tonight. Just gotta apologize, real nice f’me.”
“Mmm,” is all you can muster. You’re so spent, muddled and incoherent noises seem to be the only sounds your voice can make.
“Words, c’mon now, baby. ‘I’m sorry, Joel’,” he instructs you.
“I’m sorry, Joel,” you repeat, “For taking your batteries.”
“There ya go, sweetheart. That's it. Good girl,” he praises.
You sigh and collapse on his chest once more as Joel snakes a hand between your bodies. He finds your clit, his fingers warm and soft. With your face against his body, you bite down on his shoulder as his fingers begin rubbing slow, precise circles over your aching clit. No toy in the world could compare to the way his touch makes you feel.
Just one more.
He starts to fuck you deeper again, his free hand sliding up your up to grip around the base of your neck as he thrusts up into you, bouncing you on his cock. You’re liquid in his hands as he continues to steadily work your clit. That all too familiar pooling heat in your core is building back up for the last time, this one far more intense than the previous three orgasms he’s pulled from you. It crashes over you in waves, white-hot pleasure coursing through your veins. Joel feels your body tremble and shake, your fluttering walls choking his cock, pulling his own orgasm from him as he spills inside of you, filling you up with loads of his hot seed.
God, how you missed that. Missed him.
It could have been minutes, maybe hours that you stayed seated on his cock like that, just breathing with Joel. He runs his fingers up and down your spine, strokes your hair.
Finally, you sit up and extricate your body from his to remove the batteries from the toys. “Here,” you hand them to him.
Joel wears kind of an affected scowl on his face as he takes them from you. “Batteries feel light.”
“Sorry,” you say.
Joel smiles softly, his eyes glimmering as he hands them back to you, “Keep ‘em. Got a stash at home anyhow. Now get dressed.”
“Why?”
“Jesus, sweetheart. Y’got the memory of a goldfish. Cause we’re havin’ dinner, that’s why.”
You bite your lip and smile mischievously, “Because it’s a date.”
“No. S’not a date, wiseass. You’re a lady and you deserve…hey-”, Joel stops himself, noticing the bubbling lava lamp next to you, green with blue bubbles, like the one he was eyeing back in Spencer’s, “S’a cool lava lamp. I always wanted one.”
“I know,” you smile shyly, “Picked it out for you. Just wanted to make sure it worked first.”
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