#the drink was good but strong so watch out you guys and don’t come in having not eaten anything in 6+ hours lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nichuuu · 5 months

Text

Lemon.

Word count: 13k+

You decide that you don’t quite like Balls (get your head out of the gutter).

Music: odd. Yes, it’s a fancy mansion—5 floors, the works… But you don’t know how to feel about the sole pianist in the centre of the foyer, the one that’s playing some classical piece that has the people around you murmuring about his technique and sound (whatever the hell either of those meant).

People: you don’t know a good half of them. Scratch that—it’s a sea of strangers

Drinks: strong, way too fucking strong for your liking. The drinks are free of charge, and the bartender clearly didn’t shake this Pina Colada well, but you have to drink it if you want to even try and get into the mood of the party. Around you, men in posh suits and women in flamboyant dresses skirt each other, talk to each other with placid smiles—hoodwinking each other with their highfalutin laughs and smiles to establish connections that probably won’t matter in a couple of days. The only person you’ve talked to tonight is the bartender, and that was just to order your drink.

This whole place stinks of capitalism, and you feel out of place in your cheaper suit and dress shoes. On your right, some guy is talking about how bitcoin and blockchain will make a grand return, some lady is gossiping about the latest Gucci handbag on your left. In front of you, a man and a woman are clearly flirting with each other, bashful grins on their faces as they hold their fancy drinks in their hands and talk about god knows what. You’re wondering if you should ask for a straw from the bartender just to dip your toes in social interaction.

Wonder why Cinderella was so hot on attending a Ball, thing seems pretty bland to me, you’re thinking, watching the tip of the ice that was shaped like an iceberg melt away and sink beneath the surface of your margarita. Some guy in a tux comes by, orders two glasses of Prosecco—one for him, one for the woman next to him. He’s talking loudly, disrupting your peace and quiet. Your solution: move seats.

From a distance—two chairs away from your original seat—you watch as he takes the two glasses from the hands of the bartender, hands one to the woman, then clinks his glass with hers. He’s preternaturally genteel, and you’d know because you recognised him as the guy that got slapped at the start of this whole thing because he grabbed the ass of someone’s wife. Impropriety, but it’s the behaviour of the newfangled rich.

Now he’s bragging about his car. Nissan GTR fitted with this engine, this ventilation, blah, blah… Whatever it is he’s saying, the woman’s having none of it. You’re no psychologist, but you can tell that she wants to get out of a conversation; her smile is awfully sweet, but you can see that she’s silently importuring him to shut his trap—her eyes give it all away. You pity her, silently sending her your best wishes as the man grabs her by the arm and leads her back into the sea of people. Personally, you’d be screaming if you were in her shoes.

(Off to your left, just at the edge of your vision, you see your boss talking to a woman. She’s getting touchy, really touchy and really flirty; her hand’s on his thigh, fuck me eyes out to play and on full display—A trite tactic used by these types of women to get lucky with a rich man at these type of events. Luckily for her, your boss is quick to bite on to such bait. God bless them both.)

For the record: you’ve never really enjoyed Balls or anything of the ilk, because quite frankly speaking, you’d much rather burrow up in your bed at home and binge Kimini ni Todoke till you were giggling and squealing like a little schoolgirl. Maybe I’m still young, I’ll learn to like these types of events later on, you tell yourself, I’ll need connections at some point, maybe I should start—

A sickly sweet fragrance crawls up your nostrils, truncating all thought. Perfume, you’re quick to identify, and then you’re aware of the presence of someone on your right. Your grip on your glass grows tighter in the slightest; you’re praying—Please just be ordering a drink, please be ordering a drink.

Frankly, you don’t know why you’d ever think anyone would talk to you, an unimportant cog that just tagged along with his boss because he had nothing better to do. Irrational fears are really a funny thing.

Sharp, clear, resonant—three words that came to mind when you heard the voice of the person next to you, the voice that delivered the simplest of orders: Yamazaki. I want it neat.

Your first thought is, Damn… Neat Whisky? Someone’s having a horrible night, as you turn your face away from her (if you couldn’t see her, she wouldn’t be able to see you, right?). And just as you’re wondering if she’s gonna take her drink and leave, your question is answered by the soft creak and even softer rustle of shifting fabric from your right. You bristle.

The glass makes a sound against the wood as it’s gently placed down on the table.

(Now would be an excellent time for a subtitle to come in, one that states in square brackets: Awkward silence.)

You can hear her swirling the liquid around in her glass. Fuck, now this is awkward… You’re thinking, and then you’re wondering if you should just get up and leave, absquatulate, skedaddle—any word that can convey the act of disappearing in an instant—right out of there. But as you start to slide your butt off the chair, that voice rings out once more.

“Not much of a talker, are you?”

She doesn’t know how her simple sentence has caged you in the most challenging position (to you at least). Now you’re sliding your ass back into the bar stool and you turn and face her—

(Now that you’re looking at her, your second thought about her comes in: God, she’s beautiful. Dark brown hair that falls just past her shoulders like velvet curtains, soft yet somehow piercing eyes, a smile that makes you feel fuzzy all over—probably one of the most attractive women you’ll ever meet. She’s the woman from earlier, the woman that you saw smiling and nodding placidly to that guy who got her the Prosecco. She must’ve found a way to slip away, and she has your full respect for that.)

—and you find that you’re drumming your nails against the base of your glass.

“Shy, huh?” she’s throwing out a guess, watching as the Whisky in her glass slowly swirls to a stop inside the chilled glass. “It’s been a while since I met a shy man. You’re a breath of fresh air.”

You shift in the stool, and your first instinct is to ask her if you two had met before. It’s only after that last syllable leaves your mouth that you realise how stupid of a question it is. You don’t know her, and judging by the fact that she hasn’t called you by your name: she doesn’t know you either. You let her decide whether to oust you as a fool as she scans you up and down.

(Update on your boss and that woman: She’s kissing him now, full on making out. It’s an unsettling sight to behold, and you attribute your queasiness to the fact that they’ve somehow found they’re way behind the woman you're talking to. Your boss doesn't see you; you choose not to see him. God bless them both.)

“Well… Considering that you don’t look the least bit familiar,” she sets the glass down, “and that you haven’t been introduced to me like some product by a crusty, old man… I think it’s safe to say that we’re.”

Now her eyes are on your drink. What are you drinking this fine night? She’s asking, using her chin to gesture towards your Pina Colada. You tell her exactly what it is, and she cringes slightly. They say Pineapple doesn’t belong on pizza, I say it doesn’t belong fucking anywhere. Oust it as a fruit! she’s telling you, making sure to add a little more emphasis on the word “oust” as she couches her firm belief, something you find rather hilarious considering that it’s your first meeting with her. She sips the Whisky, grimaces a bit, then sets the glass back down to say, we skipped past a lot of formalities, didn’t we?

And here comes the part of talking to strangers that you’re the most comfortable with—Introductions. You think that it is safe to assume that just about anyone would find saying hello and telling someone your occupation much easier than holding up a conversation, what more with a beautiful woman like her. You give her your name, tell her what you do for a living, the usual stuff. She listens, the gleam in her eyes that comes when you’re done talking ever so enigmatic and cryptic.

“Lawyer huh?” She’s playing with her glass again, “considering were we are right now, I really shouldn’t be this surprised… Yet I am. Little shy for a guy dealing clients on the daily, no?”

Somehow, by the grace of some supernatural force (you call it alcohol), you crack your first joke of the night—I know. The most I ever talked is in court—and you’re relieved that she’s kind enough to humour you (or maybe she really does find it funny. You’ll never know), and gives you an elegant chortle, one that makes your hair stand at their ends as your third thought about her goes through your mind: even her laugh is attractive. Is there anything wrong with this woman?

And when she tells you her name, you realise why she seems to be exuding this inexplicable aura; Minatozaki Sana, pleasure to meet you, she introduces herself with a generous amount of pizzaz. You’re scanning her up and down at this point, and only now do you take in the expensive dress that dons her slender frame, the same dress that’s accompanied by a glimmering necklace and earrings, 3 rings on her middle, index and ring finger respectively.

“You’re…” you begin.

“The host’s daughter? Yes.”

Now you’re at a loss for words. Well uh… It’s an honour to meet you, is what you plan on saying, but it comes out as a simple, more blunt manner: Oh damn. Sana’s giggling to herself, swirling her Whisky as she watches you struggle to find things to say to her.

“I take it that you don’t come around here often?” she asks. When you raise an eyebrow, she explains how her father hosts a Ball like this every other month to try and find her a “suitor”. Apparently, 27 years old is “too old” to still be single, so my Dad just gets a bunch of men together and parades me around, she’s carping. The glimmering chandeliers, the array of drinks and food, the vanity of all these people; the dazzling marble floor, the glass sculptures, the embroidered tablecloths; this event, in all its glory and prestige, is all about her.

Christ, you’re thinking to yourself, money really gets you to places, huh?

Now she’s explaining how some of the people here are frequent visitors. Mothers and their sons, fathers and their sons, young business men, old business men, middle aged businessman; whoever can afford to come to this lavish Ball—all of them frequent this mansion like moths to a flame, all looking for a chance to ingratiate with the Minatozakis so that maybe, just maybe, they get a chance to get Sana’s hand in marriage. It’s a glorified yet obsolete form of Tinder really.

(Your boss is nowhere in sight now, and you’re pretty sure that the two of them have gone off somewhere to get it on. Maybe this event isn’t just about Sana, it’s about finding a rich person that can spoil you for the rest of your life too. God bless everyone here.)

“So what brings a man like yourself here this fine night?” She seems oddly interested in you (and also very hot on using this fine night as well apparently). You give her the truth that carries your watered down emotions in your tone—My boss asked me to tag along. Apparently all attendees were to bring a male plus one.

Sana chuckles, but it’s one of bitterness.

“So Dad’s reverted to these tactics huh?” you hear her whisper before taking an alarming large gulp of Whisky. She swallows, then sighs, “wonder what he’ll do next… Maybe an arranged marriage?”

Past the frustration and utter disappointment, there’s amusement in her voice. It tells you: if I could, I’d kill my Dad. It’s more of an inference from your end than a message that you’re sure that she’s trying to imply. You always had a bad habit of reading between the lines—probably picked it up from your job.

Sana downs the rest of the Whisky in a flash, wincing as the alcohol burns her throat. She scratches her nose, then turns to you and asks, “say, you don’t look like you want to be here, and neither do I.”

Behind you, you can hear the voice of a man approaching. He’s talking to someone—my daughter should like you very much, you seem like a man that suits her taste—and Sana bristles. Her father, you deduce, noting the way that the woman before you is searching around for an exit. Then you blink, and in that split second, she grabs your hand.

“Let’s get out of here.”

Just like that, you’re running through a crowd of people, spewing a million-and-one apologies as you jostle your way through the crowd, in tow behind a woman you've known for a grand total of 5 minutes.

A very unlikely start to a romance really.

Now the gears in your head are whirring, your stomach’s churning—there’s no other way to describe how you feel when Sana’s looking at you like that from across the table: small smile, a slight gleam behind those eyes, hand under her chin and fingers tapping against her cheek… She’s got you in perdition just with a look. You’re a guy of relatively taciturn nature, and the last time you went on a date was in university. That date went horribly, and now you’re wondering if this one was gonna go up in flames as well. Your brain urges you to say something to her, but your mouth seems to be sewn shut.

On the other hand, Sana’s poised as ever. “What’s wrong?” she’s cocking her head and pouting slightly, “nervous?”

You're not ashamed to admit that you indeed are, and that you’ve never really gone out on dates in a long time. Sana seems tickled by this—It’s been a while since I’ve seen a shy man. I like it, she tells you—and assures you that she won’t bite. In fact, she’s glad that you’re quiet and not rambling off about some business venture. She tells you, I don’t recall the last time I’ve been with a guy like you, though I’d appreciate it if you assist me in starting some conversation, and you’re slightly ashamed of your reticence.

There’s a gleam in her eyes when you start asking her some questions on her personal life, and she finds it congenial to gesticulate in a moderate manner as she answers your questions. Her outgoing nature leaves you flummoxed, and there’s barely enough space in your brain to remember everything she tells you about herself. Born in Osaka, likes yoghurt smoothies, likes to take walks in the park, likes this, likes that… You vaguely remember her telling you this on the night that the two of you escaped that event.

(To jog your own memory: She took you to the garden, where the two of you spent the rest of the night strolling amongst shrubs and other greenery that thrived in Spring. The Pina Colada in your system allowed you to hold a conversation, one that lasted long enough for her to take a liking to you. At the end of it all, she gets your number, you get her’s, and a date’s been settled in some french restaurant she patronises.)

“Now, I don’t expect you to remember all of this,” she’s watching the wine leave streaks against the glass, “but if you do, I believe you're entitled to some extra points.”

“Points?” you’re keen on inquiring, “we’re keeping a scoreboard?”

Sana simply smiles. For asking that question, minus 2 from you, is her answer—not a very good one if you were to be blunt. You can’t suppress a chuckle as you take a sip from your own wine.

Unwittingly, Sana has eased you into her presence. It suddenly feels like you’ve known her forever (if forever meant 2 weeks that is).

A smooth start to a relationship if you do say so yourself.

“Sana, there’s people out there.”

“I know.”

“They might hear us.”

“I know.”

“We could get caught.”

“We won’t.”

It’s the confidence in her voice that irks you really. The lack of hesitance combined with the sheer lack of shame towards the fact that anyone outside the changing room in this damn Prada store could easily raise a phone over the door and start recording. It’s not that she’s not cognizant of this, but more of the fact that she doesn’t give two shits if someone captures a video of her blowing you in this dressing room. Shameless, aplomb, obstinate, are the three words that come to mind when dealing with Sana at the given moment, but there’s no energy in you to convey this to her, not when she wraps her lips around your cock. The outfits that she chose remain untouched behind her, fabrics still in light while the person that chose them remains active on her knees.

(Almost a year. Almost a year the two of you have been dating. You thought you’d learned all there is to know about her, yet she’s hitting you with new facts and surprises every day, left, right, and centre. There are probably many more things that you have yet to figure out, but they’ll all come to light in due time.)

Really, it’s on you for not exercising due diligence upon entering the store; you should’ve known better from the moment you saw that look in her eyes while she was looking at a dress. But there’s nothing you can do about it now, not when she’s already enraptured you with that damn gaze—the one that exudes want and lust, the one that’s the leaven to your morality in her eyes. She knows that she’s got you wrapped around her finger when your hand rests itself atop of her head as she slowly bobs her head over your crotch. She’s taking her time despite the situation that she’s placed the both of you in.

“This has always been on my bucket list,” she’s letting her hand run along your shaft, spreading her saliva with each stroke of her palm. Her nails, freshly done just over 2 hours ago, glisten under the light—partially because of her spit and partly because of the gloss. “Everything about this is just so… Eroctic, isn’t it?”

Christ, she’s really into this thrill-seeking thing, you note as you choke out a reply: Not particularly, but whatever floats your boat Sana (obviously, it doesn’t come out as smooth as it should. No one would be able to get out a full sentence with phonics properly strung together if they too were getting blown in a changing room). She’s got a glint in her eye, but it’s covered by your shaft as she slides her tongue down your cock, nose brushing against the base of your cock, just behind her tongue. She knows what she’s doing, she’s given you head before; she’s building up the suspense and waiting for you to beg for more. You really don’t want to indulge her, you really don’t, but there’s not much you can do when she starts placing kisses on your shaft—base to tip in a fervently slow fashion. How far is she gonna go with this, you can’t help but wonder, but you quickly have your question answered in the next second or so.

“Unenthusiastic?” she quips, “minus four”.

She wraps her lips around you and pushes her head forward, and you almost let the people in the store know that something’s going down in here.

You figure that the feeling of her lips wrapped around your shaft will never get old, not when it sends electricity up your spine and makes your hand ball into a fist in her hair. Her eyes seem to glint as you let out a sharp gasp. Yes, you could be caught by an employee at any second. Yes, you could very well be caught on camera by a customer at any second. There were a lot of things to consider when assessing the dangers of the circumstances that Sana has put the both of you in. Yet, none of them take anything away from the pleasure she’s bringing you, not as she starts to bob her head in beat to the metronome in her head. There’s no point in trying to figure out her pace.

“Jesus… Fuck… Sana I…” Your voice is—somehow—hushed as you struggle to convey how weak she’s making you, but it’s not like you need to anyway—she knows exactly what she’s doing, and she’s loving every second of the havoc she’s wreacking upon your senses. The slight tug in the corner of her lips is the suggestion of a smirk, and the muffled noise that rises from her throat is the implication of a giggle.

There's a knock on the door and you bristle; Sana slows down, but she doesn’t stop. Past the door, the voice of the staff that led you to this very room asks if everything is alright in there, and you’re praying that her eyes aren’t set on the floor. Sana locks eyes with you, then darts her eyes to the door to tell you—Answer it goddamnit. Of course, she doesn’t make it easy for you as you open your mouth, applying light suction to your tip as you find the strength to say: Yep, just give us a few more minutes please, making you choke on that last word and sending alarms blaring in your head. Thankfully, the store assistant is kind enough to leave you with a take your time sir, and the shadow of her feet disappear from the gap beneath the door. It’s then that Sana pops your glistening cock out of her mouth.

“A few more minutes, huh?” She’s got drool on the corner of her lips as she rises to her feet. “Better make this quick then. You gotta keep your word as a lawyer, don’t you?”

Her wit is certainly better than most of your colleagues.

(There are customers outside now, you can hear them talking to the store assistant. They sound vaguely familiar… Maybe you heard them at the restaurant? Or maybe they’re colleagues… No, that can’t be it, at least you hope so).

Now for the record: you’ve seen Sana naked on multiple occasions, be it voluntarily or not. The shower, the bedroom, even a public shower at the pool… You could name a lot more places where she’d shamelessly flaunted her nude body before you off the top of your head. “A body to die for” is a fitting expression for Sana; you’ve always wondered if you’d find her on the top of the Google image search if you were to look up “dream bodies”, and you figure that you can probably get her there if you could somehow take pictures with your eyes as she undresses before you. She’s more methodical than anything, straying away from her usual teasing nature for the sake of being quick (that’s what you infer from her behaviour, but really, she could just be extremely horny and desperate. There’s never a solid answer to Sana’s behaviour). Mini skirt, then top, then bra; she’s going through the motions that she’d usually drag out just to get a reaction out of you preternaturally quickly.

Why is she getting naked in a changing room? You have no clue. Your best guess: she’s doing it for the thrill of it. The thought of getting caught completely nude with her boyfriend speared inside of her must be sending lethal doses of adrenaline through her veins. A pretty solid guess if you do say so yourself. No time for anymore guesses anyway—she’s already brought your hand up to her right breast, and she’s closing her eyes to enjoy the feel of your fingers closing around the semi-firm flesh. Her top lip’s furling behind her front teeth, she’s letting her other hand rest on your arm. She’s telling you where she wants it—did you cum in my ass yesterday? Or was it the day before? Ah, whatever… Give me a fucking creampie—in this soft, low voice that sends a velvet chill down your spine. Then she's kissing you softly, sweetly, nibbling on your top lip as usual, all while pushing you to the corner of the room where your feet aren't visible to those outside, flushing your back against the wall. It’s an uncomfortable fit, but that quickly changes when she grips the middle of your shaft and lines you tip up with her slit. The hand on her tit is guided to that slim waist, your other hand quickly finding its place on that symmetrical, slim figure.

“I don’t care if I cum or not,” she drawls, trailing a finger down your chest, “I just want your load inside me, right here, right now. Just focus on that, nothing else.”

(Half request, half demand—give her an award for being so damn ambiguous. Subtitles that could translate what she truly means would be really, really handy right now. Alas, such a system doesn’t exist.)

Describing how Sana’s pussy felt would be doing her injustice. The feeling was ineffable. From entering her to hilting yourself inside of her, there was never a second of that process where you had an easy time breathing or thinking. You’ve never been so reliant on your senses to keep you grounded in reality, nor have you ever been so glad that Sana’s nails are digging into your shoulder. This position—facing each other, standing and fucking against the wall of (all places) a changing room—is a stranger to the both of you, but the sheer tightness of her cunt working hand in hand with the intimacy of it all has you welcoming it with open arms.

Your hips are moving on their own, taking liberties without signals from your fried brain as you start thrusting into Sana. For long, wordless minutes, you're thrusting into Sana in a mindless, slow fashion, relishing the feel of her skin in your palms, the look on her face, the soft moans that are slowly slipping from her ever so slightly opened lips. Then your ability to think slowly returns, and you’re thinking like a damn neanderthal—tight, wet, hot, so fucking good—as your grip on her waist tightens. Your shaft glistens in the light of the changing room, slick with her sweet juices as it slips in and out of her slick, spearing into her with depth, making her legs weak. Sana cups your cheek, lifts your head, and it’s now that you see how her eyes have been completely glazed over with lust and want. Her face, her figure down to the sounds she’s making; everything about her, about this, is the phantasmagoria of a wet dream.

If you were being completely true to yourself right now: You couldn’t care less if you got caught.

And as if on cue, the voices approach as soon as you finish that train of thought.

“Do you provide altercation services?” It’s the voice of a man, closely followed by that of the store assistant: Of course sir. After you try on the suit, you can note how you’d like it to be altered to your liking.

A shadow of feet appears at the base of the door. Sana cups a hand over her mouth as the door rattles—the customer trying to open it. You stop your movements, breath caught in your throat as the store assistant tells him to use the other fitting room. Sana’s breath is loud in your ears as a second set of footsteps approach, followed by a female voice that asks, “Is my husband in there?”

Yes ma’am, is the assistant’s reply. Of course, this is hardly the end of it.

Now, as the woman engages the store assistant in conversation right outside your door, Sana lets the hand on her mouth drop. She flushes herself against you as the store assistant answers, and she whispers, “Keep going”.

Endlessly seeking thrill. Classic Sana.

The logical part of you warns you against doing as she says. Sadly, there’s not much room for logic in your head in the given circumstances, not when your balls-deep inside your girlfriend in a changing room. There’s barely enough room for dilemma to occur; Sana’s the sole occupant of your mind, rent-free, free-hold, and really: she’s the only thing that matters right now.

She almost, just almost, lets out a cry when you spear yourself back inside her. You didn't expect to start so soon, and neither did she. However, catching her by surprise is a novelty to you, and you relish in that brief rush of smugness before you restart your movements. Her mouth is frozen in a silent scream, but her eyes say all that she wants to: smug asshole, I’ll kill you later. You reply by letting your index and forefinger slip into her still-open mouth.

“Personally, I enjoy the Italian selection more…” The store assistant’s voice is barely audible to you over Sana’s small, muffled moans that manage to skirt your fingers and Sana’s closed lips, and as the lady starts talking about trench coats, Sana coats your fingers with a fresh layer of saliva, turning your fingers slick and slimy with her tongue as she looks you dead in the eye, as if challenging you: Is this the best you can do? Is this the riskiest you can be?

Every question from her deserves an answer, and your’s is to remove your saliva-slicked fingers out of her mouth, draw a circle with her spit just above her collarbone, then whisper right into her ear: I’m gonna mark you right there. The involuntary gasp that she lets out tugs the corner of your lips up into a perverse smile. Slowly your lips drift down to the glistening spot, and you wait just a moment to build up that sweet-sweet suspense. It’s a split second, but it’s a second too much for her to bear—the way her body tenses when you finally make contact is the clearest indication you will ever receive. And when you start sucking, God does she almost drive you over the edge: she tightens, she gasps, she starts twitching; she loves it, every second your lips stay locked around that sweet spot of skin is bliss to her.

You can hear the door to the other fitting room unlock, and you hear the man’s heavy footsteps as he walks out, no doubt in that suit he had earlier. The compulsory question comes: how do I look?

There’s a brief moment of silence, and you’re almost fearful of the fact that maybe, just maybe, their ears are picking up on the ragged breathing and slightly audible squelching coming from the other fitting room. All consternation dissipates when the woman starts to comment on how she looks, but Sana seems to have an answer to his question as well: So good. So fucking good. Harder, let me feel all of you, fuck me harder. Oh fuck, you’re so fucking deep.

You look dashing honey. The pitch of the woman’s reply harmonises with Sana’s soft whine as your lips leave her skin, the same patch where you’ve left your purple artwork on. I think we can afford to alter the pants—

Sana crushes your lips against hers, hot breath filling your mouth as you feel her lift her leg. You hold the back of her knee (like the gentleman you are), bring it to your side, hold it there. She bites your lower lip, hard enough for her to pull and tug it as you start losing yourself in her: her scent, her breath, her skin—all of it’s so deliciously addicting. You can’t get enough.

Then she’s going straight to moaning into your mouth, letting those muffled cries permeate in the small space and hopefully not outside the fitting room. She’s wet, she’s tight, she’s everything you need right now. You want, so badly, to pull her apart, ruin her till you can’t put her back together, get her begging at the top of her lungs for you to fuck her harder and harder.

And you’re almost on the verge of calling her a slut. There’s no need for that though, she knows what she’s made of herself.

—so that they’re a little shorter. I think we could also try—

Sana’s figured out the best way to moan: straight into your ear. She’s not letting up with them, and she’s giving you one hell of an array of sounds. There’s the common ah, the not so common, oh, and the very common shit, fuck, fuck me and so good. Her phonics are so loosely strung together that they’re just a jumbled mess, and you're perfectly ensconced with that; you love hearing those lazy, sloppy cries, and they only seem even more melodic at this volume, at this moment. Fuck, record them and play them as white noise as you sleep.

—changing the colours of the buttons? Ooh! Maybe we could even change the stitching around—

She tilts her head back, and you’re peppering her neck with kisses. She loves it, you know she loves it; all this attention, all this adrenaline, all this carnality she’s invoking—all of it for her. Each time you grunt, she knows that she’s the damn reason for it. Every time your fingers dig into her thigh a little more, she knows it’s because of her. Every kiss on her neck, every inch of her pussy you fill with your rock-hard meat, all of it’s for her. She isn’t vain, nor is she a pick me girl, but she sure as hell knows how to make you treat her like she’s the only girl in the fucking world, and you’re more than happy to give her what she wants.

Because it’s always like this with Sana: if she wants it badly enough, she’ll formulate a stratagem to get it, nip her cravings in the bud before they turn into desires that she can’t control. Mind you, she’s not dissolute; she’s just “riding the highs of life” as she calls it. Pretty bullshit and circumlocutory, but you always let her off the hook.

—the pocket area? That’s my two cents. What do you think darling?

Another moment of silence follows, and Sana seizes the opportunity to nibble on your earlobe. Her leg’s sweaty, slowly slipping from your grasp and trembling from the pleasure that’s giving her voice this lilt when she says: Carry me. Fuck me. Cum in me. Please. Pleasure, coursing through your veins, makes you comply in an almost servile manner. It’s precipitous, even fatuous to pull such a stunt in a fitting room of all places, but when your hands are supporting her by her ass and her legs lock around your waist, there’s no turning back.

And as the man starts going off on his own preferences, Sana’s wrapping her arms around your neck, letting you get a look at those bouncing breasts as you reach new depths inside of those slick, warm walls. If she could cry out, she would, but those damn customers outside are placing her in a box here, and it’s clearly frustrating her. If you were at your place, her hands gripping your sheets and her juices messing up your quilt, she could moan, mewl, cry and cuss however loud she wanted. In a way, it was funny to watch her hold back, but at the same time: you so badly want to make her scream, undo her right here and now and make her a mess in your arms, but you’ll settle for what you have right now. What the two of you have created is controlled chaos, and should it be released past that damn changing room door, God knows what will happen.

Now it’s the store assistant’s turn to speak, and she’s giving them a rundown of the pricings. Outside, they’re talking about the possibility of a discount; inside, Sana’s talking about how deep you feel inside of. Outside, the man’s trying to guilt-trip the store assistant by saying how exorbitant the price is; inside, Sana’s exclaiming and pleading in a hushed voice—Own me. For the love of God, fucking o-own me!—as each thrust you make into her pussy sends her further and further down this rabbit hole of pleasure. It takes guts to fuck in a fitting room, but it takes the guts of Minatozaki Sana to be this needy while fucking in a fitting room. The risks of being caught are high, the risk of being heard even higher, but neither of those affect her ardour. At a controlled volume, she’s pleading for you to fuck her harder, faster, unravel every single bit of her being while she tries to keep herself together. It’s one hell of a show, and it’s one hell of an experience too.

(The sight of her perfect body flushed against yours as she’s fucked in the air, the smell of her sickly sweet perfume, the feeling of that divinely tight pussy wrapped snugly around your shaft like a damned glove, the way those sonorously soft moans filter into your ears. Add these together with the fact that the people outside could hear you at any second, and you’ve got one hell of a recipe for a voyeurist’s wet dream. You’re no voyeurist, but everything about this moment is making you feel like one.

Right now, this is everything to Sana. Having you this close to her, feeling that cool Prada air conditioning against her bare body, listening to you grunt and sigh as you piston yourself in and out of that slick, wet slit… All her needs are being fulfilled, all of her senses heightened and primed, aware of every movement you make inside of her pussy. Sometimes, you feel so good and oh fuck, or maybe even oh god isn’t enough to convey how she feels, so she just opts to let out this strained, strangled gasps that tells you everything you need to know—a maelstrom of emotions and expressions compressed and compacted into one simple “hngh” is enough for you to know that you’re doing something right.)

“You like this Sana?” you find yourself whispering. “You like being fucked like a damn slut with people just outside, don’t you? You like everything about this, don’t you?”

Right now, she doesn’t have that capacity to reply. Of course, you know this, which makes you feel all the more smug as you watch, watching as she slips into a state of complete, utter bliss: her mouth hangs open, her eyes are unfocused, she’s barely holding on to you. The purple mark that your lips have left on her neck sears itself into your sight, and it’s joined by the breathtaking view of her breasts loosely bouncing each time you drive yourself into her. Loose strands of hair are flying, neither of you have any hands free to fix them. Her legs are quaking around your waist, neither of you want to stop just so that she can be back down on the floor. Her eyes are closing, you can feel her heartbeat in her pussy, she’s begging, pleading, fucking imploring you to keep going.

Christ. You want her to moan as loud as she can for you.

It’s hard not to get turned on by the sight of it, and it’s even harder to keep yourself controlled under the rapidly tightening grip of her cunt. Her breaths are shallow, her head is almost completely limp. She may not seem to be aware of it, but you sure as hell are more than cognizant of the fact that the both of you are about to hit that peak that you’ve been chasing for the past God-knows-how-many minutes.

“Sana.” Uttering her name is all that’s needed to bring her back to the real world. When you have her attention, you give her the sentence that she’s been waiting to hear for so damn long: I’m gonna fucking fill you, and It’s like the air gets heavier when she softly whispers, pleads for you to fulfill her new desire; cum with me. I need it so bad.

Controlled orgasm would take strength to pull off, and you silently pray that you have that strength as you send one final thrust between her shaking legs. Your cock twitches, spasms and the first rope of your warm seed that’s sent into her waiting walls is enough to send her over the edge. She bites down on your shoulder, quick enough to muffle the cry that escapes her throat. The tightening of her walls seem to coordinate with each spasm of your cock, and they sync up, working together to get every last drop of cum out of you and into her. She lets a soft moan escape her lips with each spurt, as though welcoming it, as though each one were something she long wanted and needed. You let out a single, soft grunt, as though thanking her, as though every twitch of her walls that sends a shock down your cock is a treasure to be relished.

So the scarf that she brought in to try is no longer just an ornament like the rest of the outfits. Even after adjusting her outfit, the fabric still can't seem to cover that hickey you left on her collarbone. The simple solution: Sana waits there, you buy the scarf, hand it to her, she puts it on and the both of you walk out of the store like nothing happened, like the both of you really were in there to try on some clothes, then leave.

It’s unsuspecting, it’s smooth. The store assistant wishes you a good day, and Sana smiles and waves to her, looking exactly like she did when she entered, plus a scarf. The only difference in Sana’s entrance and exit from the Prada store is the load between her legs.

But that’s a secret for the two of you.

“Hey. Could I talk to you about something?”

In your two years of dating Sana, never have you heard her this nervous in your life. The fact that your client isn’t responding to you a day before his trial plagues you no more, and your laptop is shut before she can close the door.

Your posture—arms crossed atop the desk and back straight—is all she needs. The message is implicit: I’m here, all ears, and she smiles softly as she walks over to the bed. The frame creaks a little as she settles down.

“My uh… My Dad is organising another one of those damned Balls again.” The way she intonates her words tells you that the Ball is the least of her concerns at the moment. “It’s gonna be at the usual time.. Usual place… Not like we can move it anyway.”

You offer her a chuckle to assuage her, diffuse the tension a little. She manages a half-forced giggle at her own joke. Is this a transitional opening? Or is this legitimately the subject of her conversation? you’re thinking, and as you sip from your cup, that subtle shift in her posture is shifting the atmosphere of the room.

She’s scared, but of what?

“I was wondering,” she drums her nails against her knees, “could I… Introduce you to him tomorrow? M-My Dad I mean.”

And now you suddenly understand why she’s on edge. She’s not scared for herself; she’s scared for you. The head of the Minatozaki clan, Sana’s father—you heard much about him, partly because of the stories that Sana tells you and partly from the things you heard through the grapevine at work. In your firm, there’s a whole box dedicated to storing suits that have been opened by him on the intern’s table (it’s a hilariously off-putting thing to say out loud), and from what you’ve heard: there’s another two in the storage room. Personally, you’ve assisted a colleague in one of his lawsuits, and the emails you billed weren’t pretty. You’d be throwing out a fib if you ever couched that you never once thought: It’s a pretty bad first impression of the man, could he maybe… You know… Stop suing people? Please? but you’re not going to let a mere few boxes and one night of reading through emails determine your perception of Sana’s father.

And hopefully, he won’t judge a book by its cover too.

“I have a trial tomorrow Sha,” you remind her, but it’s not like you actually expected her to remember this; you whispered it to her while cuddling on the couch a solid week ago. “I don’t know when I’ll end. It might be a little tight for me.”

It's undeniable that she sighs in relief. The blush that follows the breath is a clear indication. She’s glad, too glad. You can't help but ask: What’s up? Think I’ll flub everything when I meet him?

Sana does that thing where she wants to answer, but doesn’t know how to: her mouth opens, closes, opens again—longer this time, then closes again. It isn’t an easy thing to talk about; what your father will think of your partner is never not a touchy matter. All touchy matters should be discussed in comfort (Sana knows that you strongly believe in this, that’s why she’s situated herself on the bed), and you join her on the mattress.

“WIll he feel that I’m not enough for you?” You’re prodding, all while you gently reach for her hand and grasp it in your own. It’s cold, really cold. You’ll warm it up with your palms, keep them there while she replies, “it’s not that… I know that you’re more than enough for me, that’s what matters to him… At least I think so.”

She’s staring down at her hand, the one that’s slowly heating up via the warmth of your hand. Then what’s making you so worried? you’re asking. She folds her bottom in, past her front teeth. You rub her knuckle with your thumb.

“Yea I… I don’t know what’s making me so worried either,” she finally muses. “Guess I’m just… New to this practice. Never had to do it before...”

Because all the men that have tried to win you over have never lasted for more than a week, you complete in your head, smiling as she lays her other hand over yours. It’s cold too—that won’t do.

And as you set another hand atop hers, she’s asking you for a kiss. Luckily for her, obliging her wants is your specialty, and your lips are quickly travelling that small gap between the two of you. Connection is made, and you physically feel her relax. You know. You know that she belides a truth that she’s not ready to divulge. It’s in her kiss, it’s in her hands, and that’s fine with you. You can infer that it’s not something that’s going to be detrimental to your relationship, and whenever she’s ready to speak about it, you’ll always be available.

Now the kiss is done, she’s asking for fried chicken. You counter-ask if the kiss was to soften you up so that she could ask for her Famichiki. Of course, you get a classic Sana reply: a “maybe”, followed by that mischievous grin. You rise from the bed to grab your coat.

You're glad that the Konbini is just next to your apartment. Sana’s glad that she gets to be close to you as you walk through the snowy street.

“You know,” she’s whispering, “I really won’t mind if you propose to me one of these days.”

You laugh it off, kiss her on her forehead.

In your head: you note to start looking for a nice ring.

Money can get you to places, but it can also get you a private soundproof karaoke room in a club. Three and a half years of dating—that’s all you need to know: you can bet your left kidney that Sana is taking full advantage of that room.

The bottle of Whisky that she opened to get the room is hardly the main event; Sana, slowly slipping out of that tight black dress she’s wearing, foreground to the default music that’s on the TV, has your unwavering attention. The smile on her face could've been mistaken for a sweet one if it weren’t for the fact that she’s getting naked, and the lack of a bra really doesn’t help with her case either.

“There isn’t a time limit to the use of this room, right?” You know the answer to that is no, the lady at the counter told you so. The question is more of a gauge, an instrument that’s helping you assess her plans for the night.

“If you’re trying to know how long we’ll be here for,” she slings her dress onto the couch next to you, and in her stockings and panties, saunters over with a sultry sway in her hips, “my answer is a secret.”

“I have work tomorrow, Sana.”

“Too bad. Call in sick.”

She picks up the glass of Whisky, raises it to her lips. When she drinks, she lets some of that amber liquid trickle out past her lips, down past her chin and onto her tits. In the light, her wet skin glistens and shimmers, and you once again find yourself in absolute awe with the woman before you. And as she straddles you, glass in hand, the way she uses her fingers to tilt your face up to the light tells you that she’s in control. She takes a sip of the amber liquid, swallows it, then brings it to your lips.

“Be a good boy,” she’s tipping the glass as she speaks, a strong way to convey that there’s no room for disobedience, “say ‘ahh’ for me baby.”

The glass is cold against your lips, the liquor even colder on your tongue as it flows into your mouth at a manageable rate. When she stops pouring, you take the cue, and you swallow all of it in one gulp. The burn in your throat is oddly rewarding, probably because Sana’s smiling down at you, stroking your hair and telling you how obedient you are as you swallow. Then she makes you open your mouth again, pours another portion down the hatch.

How does it taste, she’s asking, cupping your right cheek as she swirls the glass. You give her a short honest review of it: It’s good. The answer pleases her, and she sets down the glass in her hand to pick up the bottle from the table next to you.

“Yamazaki, 12 year old single Malt.” She’s letting you see the bottle under the light, though you have to admit that her tits right next to the bottle are a horrible distraction. “My personal favourite.”

She unscrews the cap and takes a swig straight from the bottle, swallows it without even flinching. She’s always been able to hold her alcohol well, and you know for a fact that she can probably outdrink 5 of your colleagues and maybe, just maybe, your boss too. But you’ll never have a fair gauge on how well she can drink in comparison to your peers; she only drinks around you.

Your face is back in her hand, and she’s got some more things to say—Drink it neat, on the rocks, add it to another drink, it tastes great no matter what—as she starts to lightly grind herself over your throbbing shaft in your pants. But you know what the best way to drink it is, she asks you. She’s not looking for an answer from you, just finding a way to transition from the Whisky to whatever it is she has in mind—you can tell because she leans down to capture lips right after she throws out the inquiry, kissing you deeply, her tongue playing aggressively on your lips before searching your mouth for its counterpart. The smell of Whisky is so damn strong on her breath, and the only thing hotter than the burning sensation in your throat is the fact that she’s using one hand to play with herself, the bottle of Whisky in the other. You can hear it slosh next to your ear as she raises it.

And as she breaks the kiss, the thin strand of saliva connecting the two of you doesn’t stop her from providing the answer to her question—it tastes the best when you drink it right off my body—as she straightens herself. The next second, still playing with herself, she’s bringing the bottle to her lips, tipping it just before it touches those red-tinted lips to let the golden liquid flow down her chest and breasts. There's no time to admire; you reach out and catch the rapidly falling liquid, your tongue pressed tightly to her skin to lap up as much of the bitter liquor as you could. Her skin glistens with the Whisky on it. It looks like gold in the snow. She smells like lavender and lust.

Your tongue, saturated with Whisky, finds and captures her left nipple. You close your lips around it, suckling deeply from her chest, enjoying the taste of her body and the liquor that made it spicy and bitter. Sana gasps and moans as you have your way with her chest, fondling her small mounds, suckling both of her taut nipples—roughly, hungrily. You could say that she’s wasted some perfectly good Whisky, but you say that she’s added complex flavours to an already exquisite meal. The blend of alcohol and Sana’s skin is not something you never knew you needed, but now you do. The novelty of it, the sheer lust she’s emanating, all of it makes her tits taste better than ever, and you find yourself leaving marks on her cleavage, the right side of her left breast, the left side of her right breast; every centimetre of skin that can be reached is marked and tasted—your attempt at dipping your toes in a little control in this karaoke room that is Sana’s domain.

Maybe you’re a little over-indulgent in her, maybe you’re just unaware, but you certainly can’t feel her slipping your tie off your neck. By the time you’re aware of the sudden feeling of freedom at your throat, she’s already wrapping your wrists, securing them together with an intricate knot. You know damn well that even the boy scouts couldn’t untie this one, even if they sent their best member. The theory is only enforced when Sana asks you to try pulling your wrists apart, and it feels like they’ve been superglued together. Satisfied, she feeds you some more Whisky off her body, then it’s time for her fun.

Palm flat against your chest, eyes flaring, wicked smile; Sana pushed you back against the couch with graceful authority—something that only she is capable of. Then it’s onto your shirt, and he’s unbuttoning it with practised dexterity: unfastening, pulling—motions so fast that she has your reverence for mastering the art. She takes a moment, parts the fabric covering your chest and runs a fingernail down the centre of your torso. The nail—painted black with little Sakura flowers adorning it—stops at your belt. It isn’t hesitance that keeps her finger there; it’s the innate cheekiness that makes her linger there a little longer, that makes her smile softly as the other hand joins in and starts undoing the clasp of your belt. Not a word is uttered as she pulls apart your belt, then goes straight for the buckle of your belt.

Then it’s back to kissing. Sloppy, passionate kissing. Sloppy, passionate kissing as she runs her fingers through your hair. The Whisky on both of your breaths mingle. Admittedly, you’re feeling a little floaty, engendering a pleasant tingle on your skin as she starts placing kisses on your cheek, then on your jaw. Next thing you know, she’s sucking hard at the nape of your neck, marking you with those lovely lips, as if she’s placing a wax seal on you, declaring: you are mine and mine alone. And when she successfully sears the shape of her lips onto your skin, she traces the slick outline with a finger, whispers softly, You have no idea how much I want to own you right now.

The excitement is palpable, the tension even more so. She’s whispering all sorts of things to you—most of them entailing what she’s about to do with your cock—all while she starts to slip your briefs off of your legs. Your cock springs out of your pants, slaps against her ass and twitches on the rotund flesh. The smile grows wider, devilish dimples appear. And for the record: no, she’s not gonna blow you. She’s gonna make herself cum before anything else happens, and she’s going to make you feel things you’ve never felt before.

She slides off you, gets back up on her feet. With her back turned to you, she bends forward at the waist, shaking her ass while she uses her thumbs to hook onto the waistband of her panties. She looks over her shoulder, eyes locked on yours. With a little hop, she pushes the fabric down and off her hips, kicking it to the side. She looks over her shoulder, eyes locked on yours. With a little hop, she pushes the fabric down and off her hips, kicking it to the side. Her pussy glistens in the light, flushed pink and folds tantalising as ever puffy and swollen with excitement.

She bends her knees, getting down on all fours.

She wiggles her ass at you, looking back at you over her shoulder.

“Bet you wished,” she gets on her back, spreads her legs to get the spotlight on her slit, “that you could absolutely own me like this right now, don’t you?”

She’s so cocksure. It’s driving you crazy. You swallow, your voice barely audible as you utter her name. She crawls to you, sits up, her face in front of yours, so close, so hot. Her hand touches the back of your head, her voice barely a whisper as she grips the base of your cock—but you can’t, and it’s so damn frustrating, isn’t it?—and rubs your tip between her dripping folds, lathering her juices all over your head and smiling all the way through.

And when you least expect it, she turns and sinks down on your cock.

You throw your head back, groan, the sound of her wetness as she takes your cock into her pussy loud and clear over the music. Your head falls forward again, watching her sink further and further, taking more and more of your cock inside her with every passing moment as she lets a long, drawn-out moan float through the air. When her crotch meets yours and you are fully embedded inside her, a soft, wordless cry of pleasure that leaves open lips. You meet it with a sigh of your own, somehow tearing open your own shut eyes to watch the expression on her beautiful face as you fill her.

Christ, fuck and god—just some of the words that you want to cry out as she starts to slowly grind herself against you. The ride she’s about to take is one that’s of perverse nature; it’s not going to be a slow, pleasant ride. Naturally, her habit of jumping straight into things leaves her unprepared for what she’s about to experience, so now she has to slowly slowly adjust to your size, like striking the flint over and over next to the fireplace as you hope to get a flame going. Usually, this would be a time where you’d caress that beautiful body, run your hands over that unblemished white skin and pepper kisses all over the places that she loves to be kissed. But she’s not in the mood for that, not when she has this room and you at her disposal.

Then the fire ignites, and it is merciless, a force of nature—untameable, unrelenting. In your bonds you are unable to resist. You never would’ve in the first place. She begins to move, her pussy tight and slick around your cock. She rides you like she was made to do this, like a pro. She rides you fiercely, roughly, taking you in and out of her tight wet heat, caring little for your comfort or much of anything aside from stuffing herself over and over with thick, hard meat. Throughout it all she is digging into your thigh, crying out like her life depends on it as she goes up, down, up, down—a lewd seat on a merry go round.

Yes, yes, yes—she throws her head back, auburn hair flying like streamers in the wind as she has her way with you—o-oh fuck I need this! I need this so fucking bad! The rhythmic, repetitive motion, her unbridled desire to be filled, it sends you reeling. The pressure on your leg is forgotten, the slight discomfort in your arms pushed out of the way. You can do nothing but watch her ride you. You can do nothing but marvel at how good you feel inside her, how the tightness of her pussy massages your shaft, how the way she takes you so completely into her folds, how you stretch her and make her quiver and quake.

A part of you wishes the mirror were visible from your current position, so that you could watch as Sana impales herself over and over on your cock. You want to watch the expression of pleasure wrangle her cute features, want to watch her full, round breasts bounce up and down, want to watch every muscle of her long, perfectly shaped legs work to throw her body again and again against your cock. But you’ll have to content yourself with the almost equally alluring view of her sweaty back (not that it was a particularly difficult position to enjoy. How could you call it “bad” with the view of her round, full ass as she slams it down against your crotch?). It’s not like you can change anything about this anyway. No—the only thing you can do is sit back, watch, and savour how her ass jiggles as it crashes against your crotch.

Oh fuck, oh yes! I’m so fucking full! I’m so stuffed with this cock!

You lose yourself to the sound of her voice, the feeling of her pussy as it swallows up your cock, the sight of her back arching and her hands shaking. As much as you try, you find yourself unable to move, as though your own pleasure has been drained out of your body, and you are just an observer. You watch as she pushes herself down further on your cock, impaling herself with every thrust of her hips, her voice growing louder and louder as she gets into that dangerous rhythm, the rhythm that makes you think she’s on Acid. Well-formed breasts bounce, you see them past her slender figure. Her shapely, luscious ass ripples. Long legs work overtime, cooperating with the stamina of the girl who is using them to drive herself over the edge like it’s her be-all and end-all. It’s exhilarating. It’s thrilling.

It’s so fucking hot.

Oh god. You’re stretching me out so good. This cock feels so damn good!

Two things are getting you at the moment: (1) The sweat glistening that’s building up on her back. (2) The fact that she’s pushing your thighs apart to get more of you inside her. The former sight is a breathtaking process really: beady moisture on that well built back, pooling at all the best places and making her skin glow as some of it slowly trickles down her spine. The latter’s no grain of sand either mind you, maybe even hotter than Sana’s sweaty back if you dare say. Freshly done nails sit just outside the insides of your thighs, the palms that they’re connected to pushing down against the flesh beneath them. They’re indenting the muscles of your thighs, it’s uncomfortable, but only for a second at a time.

I don’t wanna stop. I don’t wanna fucking stop!

In your restraints, your hands grasp at the flesh that’s so close yet so far, the skin that’s rippling and slapping against yours. Her ass taunts you, tempts you, teases you. It’s so frustrating yet so erotic; you aren’t sure if you should welcome this mix of emotions or reject it before it folds its wings and nestles itself in your chest. The mix of desire and vexation, exasperation and ecstasy—any two emotions that shouldn’t go together are mixing, blending, forming these bubbles in your chest that you can’t explain.

One woman; innumerable sensations.

You need more. More of everything. More of her.

You wish you could touch her.

You wish you could fuck her.

But all you can do is watch, watch as she starts going down harder, crying out even louder.

Her body, so flawlessly feminine, is in deadly motion, working you over from the inside like you’ve never experienced. The air is filled with the wet, lewd sounds of her pussy sucking you in your hips slapping against her ass, her moans and groans, her curses that seem to go on perennially, blending in perfectly with that shitty synth in the background.

And you’re just along for the ride.

You have no idea… How good this is.. Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

And she wants you to see it, she wants you to watch her—it is exactly that kind of attention that she is basking in. So you watch. You watch her, the way she looks back at you, the way her eyes flare as she takes you in, the way her hands claw at your leg. The way she's moaning with that lilt back in her voice. Everything about this spectacle seems like it’s been scripted for some porno, and her body is certainly making you feel like you’re in one. The only grasp on reality that this situation offers is… Well, nothing. And it’s not that there really isn’t anything for you to root yourself in this real world, rather you’re choosing not to make that mental effort to do so; every little corner of your mind is being bled with whatever colour the image of Sana bouncing on your cock is. There’s no room for reality, and it's addicting, enthralling.

Fuck. You can't get enough of her, and you probably never will.

So deep! So fucking… Oh my god!

Your breath is ragged, and it takes every bit of control you have left in you to not cum right then and there. It takes every ounce of focus not to simply give in to her, not to simply melt into the couch, not to lose your mind to the sensation of her tight, wet slick as it swallows you in, pushes you out; fucking itself over and over and over again on your rock hard shaft. You don't know how much longer you can hold out for, and as if she can tell, Sana starts to move faster, her movements getting even more aggressive. The slaps of her ass against your crotch are louder now, and the wet smacking sound of her pussy's getting faster and faster. Her fingers are digging into your leg, her moans more frequent and more desperate. You can feel her tightening around you, the way her walls clamp down, the way her legs are trembling, the way her voice is going up in pitch.

(It’s the moments of privacy that really get her going; the moments where she can scream and cuss and moan like there’s no tomorrow are everything to her.

Yes, she likes fucking in public spaces for the thrill of it, but she likes it better when she can hold you freely as you fill her, not having to care for the fact that the way her body’s positioned engenders any discomfort or risk of being heard.

Yes, she likes it when there’s the chance that someone can walk in on the two of you, but the prospect of being able to own your cock, uninterrupted and unheard, thrills her like nothing else in the damn world.

Yes, she likes to see if she can hold in her cries while you’re rearranging her insides in a bathroom stall, but she prefers it much more when she can slam herself down on your cock—be loud and be proud of the fact that she loves every inch of meat that fills her till she can barely breathe.

Bottom line: she likes chasing that thrill of being caught, but she loves those moments where she’s alone with you in private even more. Now is one of those times, and God… She’s barely herself anymore.

She is a storm of pure, unfiltered lust. And you must say: it’s fucking sublime.)

Then the game changing sentence comes from her, and it's beautiful.

"I'm fucking cumming!"

The words ring out, clear and loud. And she doesn't stop; she keeps riding you, taking you into her wet hole and milking your cock, using you to bring herself off. It's not until the final second that she slows down, her back arching as she lets out the most satisfying scream that you have ever heard in your entire life. It is all that you can do to watch as she slumps forward, breaths ragged and body twitching as you hold yourself back. It takes everything—every fibre, every cell and every last bit of will—to not cum in her right there and then. And when the final spasm has passed and the shuddering has subsided, when Sana has collapsed against you, your cock still buried inside her, she turns to you.

There are no words spoken, just a mutual understanding of what comes next. She slips off the couch, takes your slick shaft in her hands. A few pumps are delivered, and they’re considerate and slow; she’s good at building tension.

“You’ve already marked my tits. Might as well cum on them.” She’s still got some cheekiness left in her, and that smile is really doing everything for you.

“Fuck, Sana, I—” “Do it. Paint me.”

You feel the semen gather in your balls before coursing up your shaft and erupting from its tip, landing in thick, wet, warm ropes upon Sana’s creamy skin. Your tip is directed between her cleavage, and the first spurt of cum shoots itself between those wonderful mounds. It’s quickly followed by a second rope, and the third lands on her upper chest. With grace, she manages to direct your spurting cock by the base so the fourth and fifth ropes cover the front of her tits, then the rest don’t matter anymore.

The last ropes of thick, warm semen land upon her face, staining her soft, blushing features with creamy white cum. Some of it lands on her cheeks, on her forehead and onto her open mouth and the thirsty tongue within it. When you finally open eyes you hadn’t known had closed, the picture of Minatozaki Sana, face and chest painted with your warm, thick cum, is one you never want to forget. And as she scoops up your seed with her fingers, she’s got a thing or two to say.

“Excellent load,” she whispers, watching as the cum slithers down her palm. “Plus two to you.”

Just two? Is your reply of false bewilderment. Sana chortles.

Maybe if you can give me a load up my ass, I’ll consider adding another three points.

Now the ring’s oddly heavy in your pocket.

Sana’s father seems more imposing than he should for a man his size, and looking at the Yamazaki bottle on the desk, you can tell that Sana gets her liking for Whisky from him.

“I’ve never met you in my life,” he begins, “and now you come here like a friend, asking for my daughter’s hand in marriage?”

Sana’s head is bowed. In the corner of the office she sits, hands clasped over one another as she listens in silently. No amount of trials or oral submissions could ever prepare you for this tension.

“Mr Minatozaki… I understand that all of this is sudden,” you begin, but you’re interrupted by a raised hand.

“You know boy… You sure do talk like you know everything about the situation.” His voice is nowhere near threatening as he speaks, and it’s absolutely terrifying. “For a lawyer, you sure do sound quite the fool. Guess I shouldn’t have been expecting much considering your background.”

And it’s that very statement that has you on tenterhooks. You’ve never met him, never even seen his face, yet he knows your occupation which you never even touched on, and from the sound of it, knows what went down in your family. Sana’s head snaps up, her eyes wide as she watches her father produce a file from under his desk.

“It’s not the suddenness,” the air quotations he uses hold more weight than they really should, “that doesn’t sit well with me dear boy. No, no… It’s more than that.”

The broad leather chair in his office grows constricting. As he rises from his seat, the foam that holds your butt up seems to depress. And as he begins—if you sauntered in here as just a lawyer, I would’ve let you take my daughter in a heartbeat!—his explanation of what’s grinding his gears, you start feeling uneasy. For context on the severity of this feeling: the last time you felt like this was when you first met his daughter.

But you’re not just a lawyer—he’s opening the file in his hands, flipping through its contents—you’re a disgrace to this very world. You shouldn’t even be in this damn house right now.

Into the file his hand reaches, and out from it: two mugshots. You bristle; Sana gasps (and it’s not that she didn’t know, rather because she was shocked that her father knew.)

So it’s the next sentence that seals your fate. Frankly, you kind of expected it, but it still doesn’t take away from the sheer bedlam that goes down in your head when Mr Minatozaki waves the mugshots of your parents before your face and shrieks at the top of his lungs.

This isn’t the way you pictured this going.

Honestly, you never pictured this happening at all.

“Do you seriously think for a second that I’d let the son of two druggies—two disgraceful, repugnant, filthy, druggies—marry my daughter?”

It’s hard to forget what she told you over the phone after your talk with her father (if you can even call it that): we’ll figure this out. I promise you, we’ll figure this out.

Money can get you a nice fancy Ball, some nice Whisky and a private Karaoke room. Naturally, it can grant you a means to keep the son of two convicted drug abusers that hung themselves in their cells away from your daughter.

So not even 12 hours after that fate-sealing conversation did you get a phone call from your boss. Next thing you know, you’re uprooted from your workplace in Osaka, transferred to the branch in Nagoya; Sana’s number mysteriously changes itself, none of your letters ever reach her.

It’s over the payphone, months after all of this, that Sana finally reaches you, and she’s ugly crying over the phone.

We can fix this, we’ll figure something out. We’ll figure this out. I promise you, we’ll figure this out.

In a way, she ended up being right.

And in your suit, you smile as you watch her walk down the aisle. She’s beautiful as ever, and you feel like that white veil over her face is doing her the biggest disservice ever. The little boy carrying the wedding rings seems a little confused, but it only adds to his adorable aura as he stumbles behind Sana. The flower petals are being scattered, the crowd’s on their feet. They’re clapping; you’re crying. Have you mentioned that she looks beautiful?

Oh? You have? Odd…

But just in case it slips your mind, you tell her how beautiful she is in your head, all while she walks right past you and continues to the stage. It feels like the ring boy’s acting stupid to taunt you for being the fool here.

In a way, she ended up being right. If “We” referred to Sana’s father and that man on the stage, “We” did indeed end up figuring things out. The invite broke you, and this wedding is breaking you even more. You know that this invite wasn’t sent by Sana—she isn’t cruel. This has the fingerprints of her father all over it: the seat close to the aisle, your wristband to authorise your access to the venue holding the same serial code as your father’s prisoner ID… All of it is him.

But there’s not much you can do about it is there? You chose to come, you chose this for yourself. There was the option to not come, to tear the invite up and go cry in your apartment in Nagoya, but you bought the Shinkansen ticket here, didn’t you? You walked through the doors of this damn place and took your seat, didn’t you?

And the Yamazaki doesn’t taste as good as it should, and the Spring air is sharper than it should be at the afterparty. They’re over there, congratulating the newly weds and wishing them all the best; you’re over here, sipping on your neat Whisky behind a bush as the music roars on.

It really shouldn’t be a question on how she finds you; she knows you too well to know where you’d go at a place like this. And in her wedding gown, she stands where she is, this look of a god-knows-what mix of emotions simmering on her face. You rub your nose with a thumb, sip on the bitter Whisky as your remedy. No words are spoken, not even a “hey” or “how have you been”—both of you know that there’s no use in starting a conversation here. It’ll go sob, fast, and this isn’t the place for it.

There will never be a place for it.

So why not substitute words with actions?

So in her bare feet, she hikes up her gown, runs over to you, lunges to close those years of separation between you two to hug you like she used to. The Whisky is knocked out of your hands; you’re knocked off your feet. And in the grass, she buries her head into your shoulder and weeps.

You always thought that only death would make you cry, but now as you hold her for what may very well be the last time, you realise: you're not as tough as you think.

Like a Lemon, the realisation that comes is bitter, and it has you bawling.

Cause maybe in a world that wasn’t so cruel, you could’ve been the one on that stage.

(Then the two of you could be in love, happier than ever.)

#minatozaki sana #twice smut #sana smut #kpop #fanfic #writing #smut

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moonstruckme · 4 months

Note

Just thinking about reader being in the position of having to take care of poly emt!marauders 🥹 whether they’re physically hurt or just mentally /physically tired, reader is there for them!!!! Instant self care night and spoiling the boys to the max, anything to make them feel better and help prevent work burnout. Reader may not be a medical professional but def knows how to take care of the boys individually and together <3

Thanks for requesting love <3

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 931 words

You’ve been waiting to hear someone’s key in the door for the past half hour. You feel oddly like you’re preparing for guests, having gone out to get a bunch of food and drinks you don’t always keep stocked and making sure all the blankets are washed for when the boys get home. You’re almost nervous.

James had texted you a few hours from the end of their shift to warn you that the other boys might be in a dour mood when they got home. He was sparing with the details and naturally showed no concern for his own mental state, but you gather it was a rough day. You know it’s bound to happen, in your boyfriends’ line of work, but it still breaks your heart when it happens to them. You wish desperately that you could sequester them in their own little bubble of happiness, where none of the bad things in the world can touch them. God knows they deserve it.

A key twists in the front door, and you all but jump up, hurrying to fetch the blankets from the dryer.

“Hi, angel,” James calls into the house, false cheer in every note of his voice.

“Hi,” you reply from behind an armful of blankets. “How are you, loves?”

Sirius looks sullen, but Remus manages a half-smile. “Been a bit better,” he says, “but alright.”

“Yeah, I heard.” You deposit the blankets in a heap on the couch, walking over to Sirius and snaking your arms around his middle.

“I tattled,” James says to Remus’ inquisitive look. Remus only hums.

Sirius’ strong arms bind you tightly to his front, his face pressing into the juncture of your shoulder and your neck. “Thanks,” he murmurs into your skin.

You pet his hair. “Do you guys feel like watching a movie? I got snacks. Or we could have a shower?” You’re rambling a bit, but it’s hard to stop. “Or if you just feel like going to bed, I get that too. I washed the sheets.”

Remus takes a big breath. Gives you another smile. “That all sounds so nice, dovey. I’m game for a movie.”

You smile back at him, giving Sirius a good squeeze before releasing him. “Alright, settle in on the couch,” you instruct. “I’m going to go grab some things from the kitchen.”

“I’ll help,” James says instantly, making to follow you. But you turn around, setting your hands on his chest.

“Go sit down,” you tell him gently. “I’ve got it.”

He raises his eyebrows at you but does, pivoting back towards the couch.

“Fuck, it smells good in here,” Sirius says, and you smile to yourself. You’d lit his favorite candles an hour before you knew they’d be getting home.

“These blankets are so warm.” James is snuggling up underneath one when you come back in, Sirius having made himself comfortable in the space between Remus’ legs. You start distributing snacks.

“They just came out of the dryer,” you say.

“Sweetheart.” Sirius looks at you, his gray eyes already a bit less solemn. There’s a few dozen thank yous and I love yous wrapped up in that one word. You give him a little smile to let him know you hear them.

You’ve gotten Remus a few different kinds of chocolate, and his lips part in surprise when you dump them all on the coffee table in front of him. You wanted him to be well supplied. If anyone broke Remus’ heart, you’re positive chocolate would come spilling out.

“Does anyone want tea or hot chocolate or anything?” you ask.

James shakes his head, and Remus says, “We’re well stocked here.” His voice is soft, warm with fondness. “Sit down with us.”

You cozy up to James’ side, letting him tuck you underneath an arm and trying not to mind that he smells a bit like hospital. Remus lets Sirius pick the movie, a testament to how upset they must all be, and you nose affectionately at James’ cheek.

“Do you want to have a shower?” you ask him quietly. “I know you usually like to wash the day off of you.”

“I will soon,” he replies, turning his face to smear a kiss across your forehead, “but I think I just want to do this for a little while first. Be with you guys.” You look up at him, and he smiles, seraphim. “You’ve really prepared quite the setup for us, haven’t you?”

You turn your cheek into his chest, having a hard time congratulating yourself when your boyfriends all seem so heartbreakingly glum. “I know you’ve had a hard day,” you tell him.

“Mm.” James drops another kiss on the top of your head, giving you a heart-aching squeeze. “Well thanks, angel. This is really nice.”

You look at Remus and Sirius on the other end of the couch, the latter with his cheek squished up against your boyfriend’s chest, scrolling through options on the TV while the former wipes a smudge of chocolate from the corner of his mouth. You tilt your head back to see James. His eyes are a bit wearier than usual behind his glasses as he smiles down at you.

“Are you okay?” you ask softly.

His smile falters, brows pulling up a bit in the middle at the concern heavying your tone. He rubs your upper arm, and you wriggle your arms around his waist in return, hugging him awkwardly.

“Yeah,” he tells you, no false lightness undercutting the candor in his voice. “We’ll be fine, sweetheart. We’ve got everything we need right here.”

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blueicequeen19 · 11 months

Note

Hi, my love. I’m here with a request and a spicy lil thought. Jealous!Rafe marking his territory on Fem!Reader and not holding back in the slightest. I’m talking degradation, humiliation, spit kink, choking, you name it, I want it all. I can’t wait to see what you and your beautiful brain comes up with!

Warnings: all of them - dubcon?, public humiliation, spitting, choking, dry humping, degradation, party scene

Rafe’s jaw ticks as he watches you. You know you’ve fucked up. That’s your problem. Always too nice. So when the sweet guy at the party gets too friendly, too touchy, and too in your personal space, you know your punishment will be severe just by the look on Rafe’s face. You grab Rafe’s drink and brush past the guy, making your way over to Rafe with your head down.

You offer it to Rafe but he shakes his head, glaring at you with murderous blue eyes.

“Drink it.” Rafe demands in a low voice that goes straight to your core. You gulp, eyeing the whiskey in the glass.

“Rafe..”

“Get on your knees and drink it.” Rafe bites out, widening his legs as he leans further into the chair. You look around, meeting the cocky grins of Topper and Kelc before facing Rafe again. Your knees shake as you lower yourself to the floor, your cheeks heating with humiliation. You throw back the drink, the whiskey burning all the way down your throat and into your belly.

“Good girl.” Rafe praises, making your cheeks burn brighter. He leans forward in his chair, resting on strong forearms with a devilish smirk.

“You want to act like a bitch in heat and flirt with every guy here, I’ll treat you like a dog. For the rest of the night, you’ll stay on your knees.”

“But Rafe—.”

“Does my dog need a bone? Want me to shove my cock down your throat?” Rafe taunts, raising a challenging brow at you as his friends snicker. You sit back on your heels, willing yourself to remain silent.

“That’s what I thought. Keep your mouth shut and sit there and look pretty for me.” Rafe bites out, leaning forward to untie the strings on the front of your dress to reveal your prominent cleavage. You clamp your mouth shut as he slides his hands inside the cups of the dress to give each of your breasts a squeeze.

“These are nice, baby. Let’s show everybody.” You don’t get time to object before he yanks the thin straps down your shoulders, revealing you to his friends and anyone who walks by. You fight back tears of embarrassment as they gawk at you, your nipples hardening painfully.

“What’s wrong, baby? You wanted another guys attention. Now you have all of it. Every guy here is getting to look at your beautiful tits.” Rafe says in that condescending, mocking voice of his before leaning back in his seat to stare at you. A single tear slides down your cheek but Rafe catches it with his thumb and brings it to his mouth.

“You know your tears don’t work on me. I love it when you cry.” Rafe smirks, leaning back in the chair and letting you see the massive bulge in his pants.

“Rafe.. please..”

“Crawl towards me. Ass in the air.” Rafe demands, narrowing his eyes at you in frustration. He didn’t tolerate your disobedience. You lowered yourself to trembling hands as you crawled the few feet it took to end up between his legs. The cool air reached between your thighs as you made sure to do as he said, your ass and pussy practically on display for everyone else.

You looked up at Rafe through your fake lashes as he leaned forward, gently sliding his hand into the back of your hair and tugging back.

Your lips part on their own and Rafe takes the opportunity to spit directly in your mouth onto your tongue. Someone chuckles nearby but you’re too frozen in place to move or protest. Rafe does it again and heat crawls up your neck as his warm saliva coats your tongue.

“Swallow.” Rafe says in a low warning voice that shouldn’t be sexy. You obey, humiliation by the act and how wet you were.

“Now take out my cock and suck it.”

“But—.” Your eyes dart from side to side, a party still in full swing around you but Rafe tightens his hold in your hair, making you whimper.

“Choke on my cock or get out.” Rafe spats, his handsome face morphing into an angry scowl. You didn’t want to leave and you weren’t sure if this was a test or not. Would he come after you if you refused? Or would he replace you? Another snicker comes from his friends and your face beats further with humiliation.

“You know what, I have something better. I want you to ride my boot. Get yourself off on my laces like the desperate bitch you are.” Rafe smirks. Dread fills you because some how that is worse than sucking him off in front of all these people. Now he wanted you to dry hump him.

“Rafe—I—.” His hand finds your throat, bringing you in for a quick peck on the lips that leaves you hungry for more as he slips his foot between your parted thighs. His presses the laces against your slit and you whimper, hating your bodies reaction from the slightest bit of attention he gives.

“Make me happy and I’ll reward you.” Rafe murmurs against your lips, encouraging to move on your own in search of friction from his boot. Someone curses and there’s the sound of a zipper but you refuse to look, focusing on the feel of Rafe’s lips. “That’s my girl. Show all these people what a good slut you are for me. Make them all jealous.”

#smutwarning #outer banks smut #rafe x reader #dark rafe cameron #rafe cameron #rafe imagine #obx2 #outer banks x reader #rafe cameron smut #dark!reader #dark!rafe cameron #tw dark content

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thebunnednun · 21 hours

Text

Good neighbors Farmer! Bakugou Katsuki x Reader (Part 2)

64.media.tumblr.com

Another special thanks to @bakugotrashpanda for the prompt/drabble. Check out their works if you haven't! They even reblogged the first part!

Okay, fangirling done.

Art is done by: This lovely user here!

Got a little twist ending here. Also, shoutout to @elarakive for picking up the stardew valley ref.

ON WITH THE SHOW!!~

______________________________________________________________

The next morning, you wake up with a renewed sense of purpose. Bakugou’s words linger in your mind, giving you the confidence to take him up on his offer to help around the farm. You decide to surprise him with a hearty breakfast before joining him in the fields.

You whip up a batch of fluffy pancakes, fry some bacon, and brew a pot of strong coffee. Today is no different. You spot him coming up the path, his muscles rippling under the early morning sun, and you can't help but smile.

Sometimes, when he's working hard, he'll lift his shirt to wipe the sweat from his forehead, giving you a tantalizing view of his abs. On those particularly hot days, you make lemonade to bring him when his shirt inevitably comes off, just to see his appreciative (if reluctant) smile.

As Bakugou approaches, you open the door, greeting him with a bright smile. "Morning, Bakugou!" you call out, catching his attention. He looks up, surprise flickering across his face as he sees you approaching with the tray of food.

He grunts in response, holding out a basket filled with fresh vegetables. "Had too many again," he mutters, avoiding your eyes. "Figured you could use 'em."

"Thanks," you reply, accepting the basket. "Would you stay? I made pancakes.""Thought you might like some breakfast."

He hesitates for a moment looking over your features in the soft morning light. He sets down his tools and walks over, his expression softening just a bit. "You didn’t have to do that," he says, but you can see the appreciation in his eyes.

"I wanted to," you reply with a smile. "Besides, I figured you could use a good meal to start the day."

He pauses before nodding. "Fine, but just for a bit. Got work to do." He takes the tray from you and sets it on a nearby table. "Well, thanks," he mutters, his tone gruff but his eyes warm.

"Well don’t just stand there. Sit and eat with me."

You both settle down, and as you eat, you chat about the farm, your cottage, and everything in between. (The latest gossip from the village.) You cherish these moments, even if Bakugou pretends they're no big deal. His rough edges soften ever so slightly when he's around you, and you've come to appreciate the subtle ways he shows he cares.

For a guy with rough hands he does have good table manners.

After breakfast, Bakugou insists on washing the dishes and you insist on helping him with the chores. At first, he protests, but eventually, he relents, giving you a small smile. "Alright, but don’t expect me to go easy on you," he warns, throwing you a pair of gloves.

"I wouldn’t dream of it," you reply, pulling on the gloves and getting to work.

Throughout the day, you find yourself working side by side with Bakugou, his presence a comforting and steadying force. You help him with the crops, tend to the animals, and even manage to fix a broken fence. Despite the hard work, you find yourself laughing and joking with him, enjoying the easy camaraderie that has developed between you.

As it becomes midday, you both take a break, sitting on the porch and watching the skies in deep shades of blue and white. Bakugou hands you a cold drink, and you take it with a grateful smile. “Hey,I’ll be right back,” you decide to surprise Bakugou with a picnic. Having packed a basket with sandwiches, fruit, and, of course, a jug of lemonade, you make your way to your cottage knowing that he’ll follow close behind if you don't hurry.

Racing back, you now spot him near the barn, his shirt already discarded and tied around his waist. His skin glistens with sweat under the sun, and you can't help but admire the way his muscles ripple with each movement. Gathering your courage, you call out to him. "I'm back! Got a minute?”

He straightens up, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. "What now?" he asks, his tone a mix of curiosity and exasperation.

"I thought you might want to take a break," you say, holding up the picnic basket. "I brought lunch."

His eyes soften for a moment before he masks it with a scowl. "You didn't have to go through all that trouble," he mutters, but you can tell he's touched.

"It's no trouble at all," you reply, gently tiptoeing back on the path towards your cottage where there’s a blanket you've spread out on your oak porch. "Come on, take a break. You deserve it."

With a reluctant sigh, Bakugou drops whatever he’s working on and eventually joins you on the blanket. He plucks a sandwich from the basket and takes a bite, his eyes closing briefly in appreciation. "Not bad," he admits grudgingly.

"Pretty good, actually."

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through you at his compliment. "Glad you like it."

"You did good today," he says, his voice soft and sincere. "Didn’t think you had it in you."

You laugh, nudging him playfully. "Guess I surprised you then."

"Yeah, you did," he admits, looking at you with a warmth in his eyes that makes your heart skip a beat.

There’s a comfortable silence between you, and you find yourself leaning a little closer to him. "Bakugou, can I ask you something?" you say, breaking the quiet.

"Sure," he replies, turning to face you.

"Why do you come by every morning with food?" you ask, your voice soft and curious.

He looks away, a slight blush creeping up his cheeks. "Told you, I have too much," he mutters.

"But there’s more to it, isn’t there?" you press gently.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, alright. Maybe there is," he admits. "I just... I like seeing you. Talking to you. Makes my day a little brighter."

Your heart swells at his words, and you reach out to take his hand. "I like seeing you too, Bakugou," you say softly. "More than you know."

He squeezes your hand, his grip warm and reassuring. "Guess we make a good team," he says, echoing your words from the previous day.

"Yeah, we do," you agree, smiling up at him.

Before the midday sun could make you feel any sleeper, you began to pack up the remains of your picnic. Bakugou helps you clean your porch again and mumbles something about having you over for dinner one night. After dishes, you’re back on your porch, staring up at the sky.

You’re perched on the white railing while Bakugou sits in your rocking chair, his hand resting gently on your back in a rare display of tenderness. You tease him about being worried for you, and he snarks back, "I just don’t want to hear your whining if you fall."

You try to shove him playfully, but your balance slips, and you end up tumbling backward into his lap. "OH! I-I’m sorry!" you exclaim, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Bakugou inhales sharply at the sudden impact but quickly adjusts you so you're nestled comfortably against his chest. "Dumbass," he mutters, his voice a mix of annoyance and concern. "I told you, you were going to fall."

Before you can stand up, he starts rocking the chair gently, his arms holding you securely. The unexpected intimacy sends a warm shiver down your spine, and you relax into his embrace, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

For a while, the only sounds are the creaking of the rocking chair and the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze. Bakugou remains quiet, his gaze fixed on you, as if he's contemplating something deeply.

"Why do you do this?" he asks suddenly, his voice uncharacteristically soft. You looked up from where you began gently raking your nails down his muscular arms with one hand and playing with the thick fingers of his right hand to see his vermillion gaze fixed on you.

"Why do you keep feeding me?"

“How ironic.” You turn to look at him, his expression unreadable. "Because I care about you," you say simply. "And I like spending time with you."

He looks away, a hint of pink coloring his cheeks. "You're a real pain, you know that?"

You laugh, reaching out to give his hand a gentle squeeze. "Yeah, but you don't mind too much, do you?"

Bakugou's grip tightens on your hand for a moment before he lets go, standing up abruptly with you in his arms. "Come on," he says, setting you down into a standing position, his hands resting firmly on your waist. "I still got work to do."

“Mhm,” you nod and as you follow him back to the fields, you can't help but feel that something has shifted between you. And it’s not just that little spring in your tummy. As Bakugou resumes his work, you stay by his side, ready to lend a hand or simply enjoy his presence.

In the hours that follow, this new routine becomes your favorite part of the day. Whether you're helping him with a stubborn animal or sitting on his truck as he works on the engine, the time you spend with Bakugou is something you cherish. And though he grumbles and complains, you can see the softness in his eyes, the way his guard lowers just a little more each minute.

That evening, as the sun sets and paints the sky in hues of orange and pink, Bakugou walks you back to your cottage. The air is warm, filled with the scent of blooming flowers from your garden and the sounds of crickets beginning their nightly chorus.

"Thanks for today," you say softly as you reach your door. "I had a great time."

"Yeah, well," Bakugou mutters, scratching the back of his neck. "Don't get used to it."

You laugh, knowing that despite his words, he enjoys these moments as much as you do. "Goodnight, Bakugou."

“It’s Katsuki,” he corrects, his eyes shifting nervously to his pockets. You almost question him before realizing this is one of his tells—one of the ways he tries to cover up his anxiety. Placing your hands on his chest to get his attention, you find those sharp eyes focused on you again.

“Katsuki, I had a wonderful day with you. Thank you,” you say softly.

His face remains stoic as he analyzes you, from your head down to the boots you wore specifically for him today. He hesitates for a moment, his expression softening slightly, before leaning in and pressing a quick, awkward kiss to your cheek.

"Goodnight, [Name]," he mumbles, turning and walking away briskly before you can react.

As you watch him retreat, a warm feeling spreads through you. The day had been perfect, and despite his rough exterior, Katsuki had shown a side of him that few got to see. You touch your cheek where his lips had brushed, a smile tugging at your lips.

"Goodnight, Katsuki," you whisper to yourself, already looking forward to the next time.

Epilogue:

The warm afternoon sun bathed the fields in a golden glow as Bakugou trudged through the tall grass, baskets in hand. The Bakusquad had been insufferable all morning, teasing him relentlessly about his plan. They had even followed him, hiding in the tall grass to watch the spectacle unfold. He could hear their muffled giggles and whispers, and it took every ounce of his willpower not to turn back and scold them.

"Get a move on, Bakugou! We wanna see some action!" Kaminari's voice called out from somewhere behind a hay bale, followed by a chorus of snickers. “Yeah Lover-Boy, go get your lady!” Mina could be heard snickering behind the old oak tree in your yard.

“Come on man, the worst she could say is no.” Sero’s voice could also be heard nearby and it would have been comforting if it wasn’t filled with giggles.

"Shut the Fuck up," Bakugou grumbled under his breath, his cheeks flushing a light pink. Already feeling flustered, Katsuki wondered if it was too late to back out. But, knowing that the dumbasses he called friends wouldn’t let him out of this, he opted to continue his walk to your property line.

Seeing the familiar fence post of your yard, he took a deep breath and continued towards your cottage, his heart pounding hard in his chest.

As he approached, he saw you tending to your garden, your back to him. You were humming softly, completely oblivious to the spectacle about to unfold. Dressed in a strawberry colored sunhat and cute overalls that barely covered the swell of your ass when you bent over. Bakugou had to look away for a moment before you sat up again.

Looking back at you, he felt a surge of affection and determination. Taking one last breath, Bakugou squared his shoulders and marched forward, determined to make this moment special despite the peanut gallery hidden in the grass.

"Hey, [Name]" he called out, his voice gruff but tinged with something softer. You turned, a smile lighting up your face as you saw him.

"Hi, Katsuki! What brings you here?" you asked, wiping your hands on your apron and walking over to him.

He held out the two baskets, his heart racing. "I brought you something," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "In this basket, there are some flowers for you to plant in your garden. And in the other, more produce. Figured you could use it."

Your eyes lit up with delight as you took the baskets from him. "Katsuki, this is so thoughtful! Thank you!" you exclaimed, glancing at the vibrant flowers and the fresh vegetables.

He shifted awkwardly on his feet, scratching the back of his neck. "Yeah, well, there's something else," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. He took a deep breath and looked you in the eyes, his expression serious.

"I, uh... I want you to be my girlfriend."

There was a moment of stunned silence, broken only by the rustling of the tall grass and the stifled giggles of his friends. Your eyes widened in surprise, and then a radiant smile spread across your face.

"Katsuki, I'd love to be your girlfriend," you said softly, stepping closer to him. "I care about you a lot."

He let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, a relieved smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Good," he said, his voice rough but warm. "Because I care about you too."

From the tall grass, the Bakusquad erupted in cheers and applause, popping up from their hiding spots. "Way to go, BakuBro!" Kirishima shouted, grinning from ear to ear.

"About time!" Mina added, clapping her hands. Kaminari and Sero were pulling her back into the hiding spot as Katsuki looked like he was about to throw his wrench at them, again.

Instead, he rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress the smile that spread across his face. Katsuki reached out, taking your hand in his, and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Come on, let's get these flowers planted," he said, his voice filled with affection.

"One thing though."

"Yeah?" Katsuki replied, raising an eyebrow.

Taking off your sunhat, you used it to shield both of you from the prying eyes of the Bakusquad still lurking nearby. Leaning in, you caught him off guard. He started to pull back instinctively, but you grabbed the cuff of his tank top and kissed the breath out of him. The world seemed to stop for a moment as your lips met his, a tender yet passionate exchange.

When you pulled away, you smiled sweetly as if nothing had just happened. "You missed last night," you teased, your voice a playful whisper.

A half-smile, half-smirk now rested on his face. "Damn, girl," he muttered, his voice low and rough with a hint of admiration.

"Come on, let's not keep the flowers waiting," you said, taking his hand and leading him to the garden.

As you both worked side by side, planting the flowers in neat rows, the Bakusquad's presence was forgotten. Katsuki's occasional gruff comments were softened by the way he would glance at you, his eyes filled with a rare gentleness.

"You know," he said after a while, his tone thoughtful, "I never thought I'd enjoy doing stuff like this."

You looked up from your work, meeting his gaze. "It's nice, isn't it? Doing something simple and peaceful together."

He nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "Yeah, it is."

The two of you continued planting, your hands occasionally brushing against each other, sharing quiet conversations and comfortable silences. The setting sun cast a warm, golden glow over the garden, making the moment feel almost magical.

When the last flower was in the ground, you both stood back to admire your work. Katsuki wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. "Looks good," he said, his voice filled with pride.

You leaned into him, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. "Yeah, it does. Thanks for helping, Katsuki."

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, a rare and tender gesture. "Anytime," he murmured.

As you both stood back to admire your work, Katsuki couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over him. This was his life now—a mix of hard work, tender moments, and the support of good friends. And you both knew that this was just the beginning of a beautiful, blossoming love.

"Want some lemonade?"

______________________________________________________________

THAT WRAPS IT UP BABY

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sweetenerobert · 10 months

Text

DRUNKEN’ NIGHTS

dom!joel miller x dad!male reader

genre: neighbor joel, no outbreak au, explicit, minors dni

summary: an opportunity to have a guy's night with your daughter’s best friend’s dad turns into a heart-to-heart into an unforgettable night to remember

warnings: strong language, infidelity, joel is 40, reader is 38, unprotected P in A, dirty talk, angsty thoughts, oral (m giving/m receiving), pet names, fingering, creampies,

word count: 4.9k

a/n: gif by @shirks-all-responsibilities

a/n: dividers by @firefly-graphics

a/n: italics = thoughts

official playlist

next chapter

YOUR DAUGHTER, MARIGOLD, WAS CLOSE TO SARAH, JOEL’S AND ADALINE’S DAUGHTER.

You remember the first time you met Sarah, it was a late night at work and you came home to see your daughter laughing at a TV Show that she and Sarah were both watching, and they were a little nervous and surprised to see you.

You reassured Sarah saying that your home is open to her.

You met Sarah’s parents; Joel and Adaline after Sarah invited them to have dinner with you, Marigold and Sarah. You remember that you noticed how distant/close Joel and Adaline were during the whole dinner.

It was like they weren’t present as a couple but as a couple of friends. Of course they did their best to hide it but sometimes they slipped through the cracks.

Later that night, you learned from your daughter, Marigold, that Joel and Adaline weren’t as close as they were before they were married — Adaline travels a lot for work, so the relationship wasn’t as strong as they hoped.

After that night, you noticed that inviting Joel and Adaline for hangouts, activities, game nights, and movie nights always had Joel come over with Sarah by himself, and Adaline always worked.

That concluded, you and Joel were always hanging out, drinking together while your daughters had their fun.

This was one of those nights where it would just be you and Joel at his house, with Sarah and Marigold hanging out at yours to have their privacy.

You bought a bottle of rum you were never gonna finish all by yourself and you thought this would be the best time to get rid of the bottle that's been eyeing you for the past 10 years.

You already knew the girls were over at your house. Marigold’s bedroom held the sound of giggling and hushed whispers. You shook your head as you had the neck of the rum bottle in your clammy palm.

You were walking across the cul-de-sac in the already warm orange sky to Joel’s front door, bringing your free hand and knocking on the wooden door in front of you.

You hear shuffling getting closer and closer to the door, and then Joel opens the door, and you smile, and Joel shoots one back.

“Hey, man, what’s our poison for tonight?” Joel asks, leaning on the doorframe.

You held the bottle in your hand and showed to Joel.

“A wedding gift that’s been sitting in my cabinet for ten years, she and me never opened it.”

Joel knew you were divorced but never knew the reason behind it. It wasn't like you never told him. He just never asked.

“You sure you wanna drink this, man?” Joel asks, taking the bottle from your hand.

“Wedding gifts are unique. I know you're divorced and everything but —”

“It's fine, It cluttered the cabinet. Good excuse to clean out my cabinet,” You shrugged.

“Okay, let's get to drinkin’,” Joel smirked, getting off the door frame.

You walked behind him and close the door behind you. You sit on the brown couch in front of the TV — seeing that it's on, you can't take your eyes away from the bright screen. It was a movie that Joel must have been watching before you knocked on the door.

Glancing towards the kitchen, you notice Joel walking back toward you with two glasses in his hands; you fix your position on the couch as Joel sits beside you.

“Here we go,” Joel states, handing you a glass.

“Thank you, cowboy,” You smile, taking the glass from Joel’s hand.

“I can't believe you call me that,” Joel chuckles.

“I’m just glad you don’t call me city boy.”

“I might have to start.”

You place the glass on Joel’s coffee table and unscrew the rum bottle cap, putting the bottle cap on the table.

“Let’s get to drinkin’ then.”

“Let’s get to drinking then,” You smile.

You grab your cup and pour some rum into Joel’s glass and then some into your glass, placing the glass bottle on the coffee table.

“To gettin’ drunk,” Joel nods, holding his rum-filled glass near you.

“We sound like alcoholics — but, to getting drunk,” You laugh.

You and Joel clink your glasses together, and you both knock back a sip of the rum before you start coughing.

The rum made your throat feel like it was burning, and it stayed for a couple of seconds while you were coughing; Joel couldn't help but start chuckling, watching your pain endure.

“Okay, you brought this, and your actin’ like it already killed you,” Joel laughed.

“Look, Mr. Drinker, I’m not much of a drinker; I only act like I am, so you don't judge, city boy, over here,” You countered.

“Aww, is city boy a baby?” Joel pouted.

You shove him. “You suck,” You laugh.

You and Joel probably drank ten or eleven drinks, but it was apparent; you both were drunk like never before. The night sky came rushing in through his large windows.

“Okay, wait, you and Tommy rode motorcycles for his birthday?” You laughed.

“Yeah, yeah, and it was so fuckin’ fun; the adrenaline rush was high that day; I miss it.”

You and Joel were laughing together like lifelong friends. Two dads who were just getting irresponsibly drunk while their daughters did their own thing.

Leaning your head on the backrest of the couch, from the corner of your eye, you can see Joel smiling and leaning back on the sofa, his arm outstretched on top of the couch.

You could tell Joel was hiding something behind that smile, though, as he was looking at the now-muted TV; you could tell something was on his mind.

“Joel,” You state, closing your eyes.

“Yeah, city boy?”

“I can tell something’s on your mind.”

“How? Your eyes are closed,” He reported.

You open your eyes slowly and turn your head to look at him. “Thanks for noticing, detective.”

He chuckled at that nickname.

“But, is there legitimately something on your mind?”

He took a long extended breath and spoke.

“Why did you get a divorce?”

You knew that question would come up eventually; you couldn't dodge the question any more than you wanted to. At this point, you felt like you could tell Joel the real reason.

It could have been the rum messing with your mind, but you acted like you knew Joel for more than ten years when in reality, you only knew him less than five months.

You inhaled and then exhaled before answering Joel.

“I’m gay, no other reason,” You spoke.

Joel couldn't tell where his emotions were in his drunken mind. He wanted to sympathize, comfort, and let you rant about what was on your mind. But in his drunk-filled head, he thought you needed a distraction.

“Do you wanna know how Adaline and I met?”

You nod your head slowly.

“Back in high school, I was this star athlete and shit. She was a wannabe journalist at that point,” Joel started.

“So she wants to interview me because I was this great athlete and shit, we go back to my house, my folks don't come home until later that night. As we're talking, I don't think she’s listening at this point — and she grabs my bulge.”

“What?” You question fixing your position.

“Yeah! I was surprised at it, too; she was now next to me, rubbing, then she unzips my fly, and she’s now rubbing my cock. Her hands are so fuckin’ warm, she’s rubbing and rubbing, and then she stops and walks out with my cock throbbing.”

You could tell with Joel’s feeble attempt at a distraction he was hard himself. He was rubbing his aching cock on top of his jeans.

He was breathing through his nose to the point you could hear every inhale and exhale coming from his nose.

“Your hard, aren't you?”

Joel was nodding his head in between breaths.

“Yeah,” Joel breathed.

Joel stopped rubbing his cock and placed his hands on the sides of him.

Sober, you would have just sat in the uncomfortable silence in the room, but drunk, you did something you would be scared to do if sober.

You place your hand over Joel’s cock; you can feel it throb in your palm.

“W-what are you doing?” Joel exclaimed.

“Helping you out,” You answered.

You knew that this was wrong to do this, your mind was screaming at you to stop, but your actions were speaking louder than your head.

You unzipped Joel’s jeans and placed your hand in between his zipper, and started rubbing his cock on top of his boxer-briefs.

He threw his head back in pleasure and lust.

“Damn, city boy, you know what you're doing,” Joel chuckles.

You didn't hear his statement, you were dick-whipped, and you wanted more. You unbuckled his belt and jeans; then you see his cock bounce up with his boxers, making a tent.

“My cock isn't gonna take care of itself, is it?”

You fix Joel’s cock so his cock can go through the hole in his boxers.

His thick cock was throbbing right before you as you took the tip of his dick in your mouth. You swirled your tongue around the slit of his dick as he was moaning with pleasure.

“Oh — fuck, yes.” Joel moaned.

You wrapped your hand around his length as you were taking his size in your mouth.

He was throwing his head back and sucking his teeth as you were pleasuring him to the point that he would explode. Joel hadn't felt something this fantastic in so long; he had forgotten what it felt like.

This feeling he yearned for it once again after so many years; he missed it, the way his body betrayed him showing him that he was enjoying this too well.

The men you gave oral pleasure to in the past can never compare to Joel’s length, and you were addicted to him. You mouth was taking his length with anticipation like a prize you always wanted.

“Such a good fuckin’ cock sucker, city boy,” Joel grunted.

He places his hand onto your head ands pushing down as you were going down on his dick. He was making you speed up a bit.

But going your own pace, you knew he would enjoy it, his dick is sleek in your mouth, almost like a piece of ice in your mouth. You feel his thumb rubbing your head as you take his length.

You take your mouth away from his cock as his dick throbs like a spring.

A line of saliva connect from your mouth to Joel’s cock. Joel’s now having full body breathes, he can’t control the adrenaline and lust coursing through his entire body at this point.

Joel stands up and takes his pants off along with his boxers, you watch as he drops them around his ankle. You can tell Joel is writhing in anticipation, but he’s hiding it.

“Work your magic, city boy.”

With that, Joel shoots a wink as you slide off the couch and kneel on the wooden floor below you. He was standing — towering over you with his hands on his hips.

“No! What are you thinking? He’s married,” You thought.

Ignoring your head again, you take Joel’s cock in your mouth as moans escape his lips. He’s starting to tremble as your head moves, almost bobbing even. You take his cock out of your mouth, and you start stroking his thick, sleek cock. Looking up at him, he gives you an almost weak smile.

“How’s that?” You ask.

“Better — than I — could ever imagine.”

“Wait, he’s imagined this before — Stop! That does not excuse this!”

You place your tongue under his cock, at the base of his balls, and start licking and sucking on his balls.

Joel’s moans kept escaping his lips; it was like music to your ears. Your heart was pumping, hearing Joel moan like he didn't have a care in the world.

“Damn, baby. You so fuckin’ good at that,” Joel exclaimed.

He places his hand on the side of your head.

“Get on the fuckin’ couch,” Joel commands.

“What?” You ask, swallowing your spit.

“I said, take off your fuckin’ clothes and get on the damn couch; I’m going to fuck the shit out of you like no man has before,” Joel commanded.

You stood at the man before you, undoing your pants, taking your shoes off, leaving your socks on, and then taking your shirt off.

Joel had already tossed his boots, jeans, and boxers to the side, with his flannel unbuttoned but hanging on his shoulders. He was a mighty 6’2 compared to your height. You were intimidated a bit in your sober mind. But being drunk, you weren't scared; you were standing your ground.

“Look’s like your cock is happy to see me,” Joel breathed.

Before you can answer, Joel takes your cock in his hands and starts to stroke it; you gasp at his movement as you grip his shoulders to keep yourself from falling over.

You never received this type of pleasure from anyone else but yourself before. Joel stroking your cock made you replace your moans with breathing — heaving breathing. You didn't want to show Joel that you were touched-starved at this point.

“C’mon, city boy, if you can make me moan — I should return the favor at the least,” Joel grinned.

He was stroking your cock faster now, and you couldn't help but close your eyes and moan with pleasure. Your nails were going to make half-crescent moon shapes on Joel’s shoulders.

“Ack, Joel —breath— damn this, so fucking amazing,” You breathed.

Joel smiles as you moan his name like that; he can hear the lust radiating from your lips. He knew you were on the brink of feeling satisfaction just by him stroking you right here.

He knew he had to treat you right, he stopped stroking you, and you placed your head in the crook of his neck and acted breathless right there.

“It’s okay, baby,” Joel reassured.

“You need to stop now!”

You get away from the spot in Joel’s neck and back up from him. Joel smiles at you and sits down on the couch; he pats his thigh, indicating for you to ride him. It was intoxicating how he was manspreading and how he patted his thigh.

“You can walk out of here, grab your clothes and walk out!”

You straddle Joel wasting no time acting like he was going to run away.

You could feel the tip of his dick press up against your ass; Joel puts his fingers in your mouth as you drunkenly suck on them.

“Damn, baby, I don't need to tell you anything.”

He takes his fingers away from your mouth and fingers your ass with his spit-covered fingers.

You exclaim with a moan escaping your lips; your nails had dug into the couch material as Joel kept fingering you.

“So fuckin’ tight, baby boy. Have you ever been fingered before?” Joel questioned.

You shook your head and Joel gives you a smirk.

He was enjoying making you squirm under his intoxicating actions. Your moans became quick with efficiency, like you wanted him inside you already.

His fingers were sleek, going inside you and out fast; your knuckles were almost bone white at this point, and your moans kept passing through your teeth like water; Joel’s grin meant he was enjoying every sound you made for him.

He knew that these sounds for him could only be heard by him, considering he was the first person to make you feel this way: overstimulated.

“You like this, city boy?”

“Y-y-ye-yes,” You moaned.

His fingers slipped out of your, and his hands were on your ass.

“You want this cock inside you, baby boy?”

“No!”

“Yes,” You breathed.

“Yes, what?” Joel grunted, smacking your ass.

You yelped as he smacked your ass.

“Yes, Joel, I want your cock inside of me,” You groaned.

Joel’s shit-eating grin meant he’s heard what he’s always wanted to hear.

You waste no time having your ass hover over Joel’s aching cock, mentally preparing yourself, but your mind decides to take over.

“You seriously can not be thinking about doing this, right? What you are committing is an act in which you are going to lie to everyone about how horrible you felt when in reality, you enjoyed every minute of —”

Your mind goes blank as you feel Joel’s cock enter you slowly, intoxicating and rich but slow. You spat a moan out in retaliation for Joel’s dick inside you.

In those enticing, agonizing seconds, Your ass meets the base of his cock, and Joel’s hands make loud contact with your ass.

“God, damn, that's tight, city boy.”

His hands reach your hips like a puzzle piece you lost. Joel lifts you up and slowly goes back down; your moans escape your teeth, your clenched teeth, until Joel rocks his hips up and down. That's when you feel him hit that same spot.

Joel’s hands feel rough as they feel like they were sewn onto your waist, with how tight he grabbed you. His hips felt like they had a mind of their own.

His face had a look of rage and determination all in one; his breaths were quick and through his teeth as he pumped his cock inside you.

“Take this dick, city boy,”

“You know this is wrong. You can't keep doing this!” You thought.

You couldn't contain your moans with every pump Joel delivered; it was addicting.

“Fuck, Joel, I think you're gonna break me,” You exclaim.

“Not yet, baby, soon enough.”

Your hands were on the back of the couch, gripping the fabric. You could tear it off by how your hands were grabbing this.

You yelp again as his hands make contact — hard contact to your ass.

“You’re taking it like such a good boy, baby,” Joel grunted.

“Such a good boy.”

“No! No! No! You are not a good boy!”

Joel’s pace was so fast that his cock, slipped out of you.

Both of your breaths were heavy and difficult; you were looking into each other's eyes and saw the same thing: satisfaction.

“Holy shit, your tight little pussy, almost made me cum, city boy!” Joel chuckles.

“Turn around, baby.”

You complied with what Joel told you to do; you got off Joel’s lap and turned around; you didn't need to listen to your head right now. All you knew was that your ass was hovering over Joel’s thick, throbbing cock.

Joel grabbed the base of his cock and started slapping it against your ass. “You want this dick, city boy?” Joel questioned.

Surprising Joel, you shoved Joel’s cock inside your ass hole. Joel was taken aback.

“OOOOH, GOOD BOY!” Joel exclaimed.

You slowly started to fuck yourself on Joel’s cock. It was thrilling, adrenaline-inducing. You were on the brink of exploding.

“C’mere baby,” Joel stated.

Joel wrapped his arms around your body to bring you closest to his. His hips were rocking up and down, and his pace was fast. His hands were wrapped around your chest, feeling your body as he enjoyed bringing you immense pleasure.

Your feet were on Joel’s bare, sweaty knees. His was hitting your G-spot again, and it felt indescribable. The feeling you never felt before would go away soon, and you hated that, at this moment, you felt suitable for the first time in so long.

“Who’s my good boy?” Joel growls in your ear.

“Me, Joel. I AM,” You hiss between your teeth.

One of his hands found its way to your throat, lightly choking you.

“You love this big dick inside you? Huh, baby?”

“I love it so much, Joel.”

That's when Joel wanted to go rough with you some more. He removes his hand from your throat and grips your thighs, and lifts them so that your back connects with his slightly covered — sweaty chest.

His dick would hurt when you woke up in the morning, but for now, you were feeling pleasure.

Joel was rough, and he knew that your face was close to his, and you could see the rage and determination, and it turned you on even more.

Your cock was slapping against your navel, and your pre cum string was slapping against your stomach. Your left hand gripped Joel’s covered shoulder while your right hand was on the back of the couch.

You could feel Joel’s cock pulsating inside you. You could think that he was close.

“Your so needy, city boy, feelin’ my bulge like that,” Joel grunted.

“Shut up. . .” You thought

“You're taking this thick cock so well,” Joel growled.

“Please, Joel, stop talking; I won't control myself if you keep talking.”

“You love this cock inside of you, don't you?Pounding that tight little pussy of yours.

“YESSS,” You spat.

“You're a filthy whore!”

“Joel! JOEL!” You exclaimed.

“FILTHY WHORES NEED TO SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

That's when you listened to your head and did the unthinkable. You kissed Joel Miller.

A married Joel Miller, not a simple peck on this lips too—a sloppy, slobbery, open-mouth kiss. Joel slipped his tongue in your mouth as the kiss got rough and passionate. You can feel Joel pumping his cock inside of you faster as he takes his mouth off yours.

“Joel, you’re going to make me cum!” You moaned.

“Cum for me, baby!” Joel breathed.

Joel’s hands made your legs spread apart, and he was pumping his cock rough and slow.

“I’m going to cum, in that tight pussy of yours, city boy,” Joel growled.

“Yes, Joel, fuck —mpfm—, I want that load inside me!”

Joel started to get faster again. As he was, you were about to cum; Joel’s hips were on the brink of exploding if he didn't cum soon. This feeling, this experience, would end with a lust-filled bang.

“I’m cumming, I’M CUMMING!!” You exclaim as white lines of cum shoot out on your stomach.

“FFF— FUCK, ME TOO!” Joel growled.

You could feel his cum inside of you slowly start falling out of you, and Joel’s body started to jolt.

Joel kissed your lips with more passion than hunger like before. You both were drenched in sweat, spit, and now cum. This night was something you didn't want to forget.

You feel your body raised from Joel’s hard chest. Then you notice Joel is picking you up bridal style.

“Not yet, city boy, we’re not done yet,” Joel growled. His eyes turn dark as he walks upstairs with you in his arms.

Joel pushes the bedroom door with his foot; once he sees the bed, he places you down on the bed — on your back.

He’s in between your legs with a grin spread across his face, which shows he has more ways to pleasure you. With your ass hanging over the edge of the bed, Joel places tender kisses on your thighs.

Your spine shivered with how soft his kisses felt on your legs, your calves feeling cold to Joel’s warm lips kissing them. He trailed the kisses down towards the back of your knees, down to your thighs.

Your mind was going into shock at how soft Joel was being. A few minutes ago, he was fucking your brains out, and now he’s tenderly kissing your legs. And now you didn't know what to —

You gasped in awe and enjoyment as Joel’s mouth reached your hole. His tongue was swirling around like he was licking a lollipop. You gripped the gray bedsheets next to you and tried your best to hide your moans.

“Mmmhm, city boy, If I knew you’d tasted this good, I would’ve eaten you out sooner,” Joel exclaimed.

Your hands found their way to your face. You wanted to moan but this would validate that you were ready for him but you wanted to see what —

You yelped as a hard and fast slap came to your balls; you knew Joel was trying to force a moan out of you with his rules.

“C’mon, city boy, I can tell you're enjoying this. Moan for me, baby,” Joel breathed.

Your body betrayed you, and you moaned per Joel’s command. Your body was on overdrive, and it felt immensely addicting.

“That's right, baby; moan for me.”

Your moans kept slipping from your lips, and you enjoyed every second of it. Joel’s hands traveled all over your knees, thighs, and stomach.

His touch felt devilish, addicting. It felt like you depended on his hands, mouth, and cock to fill this overstimulating you had.

“You ready for this cock again, city boy?” Joel asked.

You nodded, and your breaths came out as moans prepared for his cock once again.

Joel stood up from his knees, and that's when you see Joel’s cock. Throbbing, pre cum leaking from the slit. Minutes ago, that cock had cum shooting inside you; it should’ve been soft at that moment.

But his cock looked like it was before the whole situation started; hard, throbbing, begging to cum.

Joel catches your eyes as your are shocked at his massive length.

“Impressive, huh?”

You reflexively nod your head in hunger, his cock will be inside you again, and you can't wait.

Joel lowers his face to kiss you. His hand travels to your throat as he lightly tightens his grip around your neck. You gasp, and Joel sticks his tongue in your mouth. Joel’s moans were quiet, but you could hear them, even with the shuffling of sheets.

“You ready for round two, city boy?”

He kisses you before you get to answer.

“Yes, yes, Joel, I am.”

Joel backs up from your face, and you crawl backward to have your head on top of the pillows below you.

Joel shrugs his flannel off his shoulder and crawls over you. His face inches from yours, his tanned bare chest hovering away from your bare chest.

He adjusts his cock, and you can feel it press up against your hole. Joel slowly slides his cock inside you. You exclaim in pain, but you can't help but feel pleasure all at the same time.

Your legs are over Joel’s shoulder as he starts slow and then goes faster. Your moans were bouncing over the bedroom that Joel and Adaline shared.

This feeling was unbearable, but you didn't care. The pleasure was worth it.

“How do you get so fuckin’ tight, baby boy,” Joel growled.

Joel’s eyes darkened; that same look of rage and determination was back on his face. Heavily breathing through his teeth and you gripping his shoulders so hard, you could make crescent moon shapes on his shoulders.

“Joel! Oh my fucking god, I love this so much!” You yelled.

“I love it when you talk dirty, city boy.”

“Your tight pussy doesn't want to let go of my cock. I’m fuckin’ obsessed with it,” Joel breathed.

Joel wraps his forearms around your legs, making your calves close to his ears. You exclaim in pleasure as he’s fucking you this rough again.

This feeling: It was more than an addiction, a sense; it was indescribable. This immense pleasure you’ve never felt before, and you loved everything.

“J-Joel, slow down; you not gonna last if you go so fast,” You breathed.

“I can't help it, city boy. This tight ass needs my cock. I can tell you need it; I’m going crazy, baby.”

“I- love it, Joel. Just slow down for a second.”

With that, Joel’s hips started to slow down, he was on the brink of coming, but he didn't care. He just wanted you to feel something: Good, lustful, ecstatic, wanted.

He closed his eyes and kissed you as he could feel your heart almost exploding. He let go of your calves as Joel’s hands were beside your head.

His hips started the pace again. He was pumping like he was on a mission. He didn't want to stop this time; he wanted to cum, inside you to show you that you were his, no one else's.

“Ugh, fuck Joel, your seriously going to break me!” You clenched your teeth.

“That’d be the idea, baby. Your mine, no one else’s,” Joel growled.

You couldn't tell if it was the alcohol in your system or just your mind, but you understood when Joel said you were his and no one else’s.

You hated/loved how much that turned you on.

“City boy, I’m going to cum, again. Are you ready?”

“Yes, Joel, pump your hot cum inside of me.”

Joel clenched his teeth so hard one could out from his gums. His hands were gripping your thighs; they could cause bruising.

Your mind was blanking out as Joel was speeding the pace in his hips even more.”

“Fuck, baby, I’m coming!” Joel yelled.

With one thrust, two, and three thrusts, Joel’s cum shot inside you again. You could feel the warm liquid sit inside you. Joel’s forehead had beads of sweat covering it. He leaned down and kissed your lips softly.

“You’re gonna stay the night, and I don't want anyone to see the pleasure I gave you tonight. That’s for my eyes only.”

You nodded, having no other words to say. Joel slips his cock out of you and lays down next to you, breathing heavily. Your head finds his chest, over his heart. You can hear how fast his heart is pumping. You were so exhausted that you fell asleep on Joel’s sweaty chest.

tags: @evans55 @odetodilfs @jrrmint <would lose it @groggygrogu @ihugpedro @strang3lov3 <would lose it

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barbiiecams · 1 month

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need to know

drew starkey x reader, smut!, reader is younger and also JD’s little sister, she’s also tipsy but not drunk, kinda trash but hear me outtt 😭! & absolutely no hate to odessa i just needed a plot lolz, *not proof read*

when you walked into the house party, the first person you were looking for was drew.

your brother, JD, was very close to him, so it made your life even better. if they hung out, you were hanging out too. and they were going to a party, you begged your brother to take you. even though you were an adult, some clubs (and some hosts of the parties) would only let a certain age in.

but now you had just turned 21, past the point of just being legal.

and now you just had to have your crush of basically 4 years.

when JD first got casted, you were so excited for him. you really did look up to your brother and admired him. because of the distance, he’d facetime you and tell you about all of the fun things he did, his fun scenes and etc.

it seemed genuinely fun, so when he asked you to meet the cast while they filmed season 2, there’s no way you would’ve turned that down.

he flew you out, helped you sort of “move in” to where he was staying at, and had you help him practice all of his lines. stepping onto the set was really nice, and so were all of the people.

everyone was so welcoming. the girls became your new besties and the boys saw you as their own baby sister as well.

but when it came to drew, being seen as a baby sister was something that almost… deflated you.

—

“and this is drew,” JD says as he finishes introducing you to the actors scattered all over the place.

when you locked eyes on him, you just felt your panties being soaked.

“nice to meet you,” drew smiles. blue eyes covered by his hair looking into yours and a hand sticking out. “what’s your name?”

you shook his hand, “y/n.” he nods at this before being called by one of the producers.

your shocked state might’ve been obvious, because your brother had to nudge you in the shoulder to get your attention back.

“you just turned 18, he’s 26 turning 27. don’t even think about it.” he gives you a stern look.

“think about what?” you feigned innocence. “you’re a weirdo.”

JD rolls his eyes, “yeah yeah whatever. come help me practice.”

you followed your brother over to wear his character chair was, but you couldn’t seem to get drew out of your head.

—

and now here you were. fast forward three years later and you were making the move. you just hoped he was actually interested and you wouldn’t embarrass yourself.

“don’t drink too much,” JD raised his voice over the music, “i wanna get wasted too.”

you rolled your eyes at him as he walked away and made it to the group of boys. you’re glad you actually watched him walk, seeing drew right there laughing and drinking.

as if he couldn’t get any more sexier, his hair was buzzed. usually, you weren’t attracted to the buzz cut. only some people could truly pull it off.

but it was drew, he could pull anything off. and when you saw him, you thought your legs were about to give out on you.

you had to really pull yourself out of thought. madelyn had spotted you and embraced you in a hug.

“hey girl! you’re finally of age!” she teased.

“i know,” you giggle. “where the drinks at?”

she laughs at you then brings you to a table where the rest of the girls are. they’re cheering, hugging you, and happy to finally see you and actually party, no rules pushed onto you.

“what’s gonna be your first drink?” laci asks with a smile.

“i want the hardest shit available.” you said, half joking yet half serious.

now all of you guys are really laughing. “getting bold i see.” madison jokes.

but that’s exactly what you get served. a gin and juice given to you all pretty and colorful, but when you took a sip, your face immediately scrunched up.

madelyn giggles, “drink it!”

“i didn’t know it was that strong!” you defend.

they’re laughing at your face while also trying to down their own hard liquor. you’re having such a good time, the headache you’ll have tomorrow morning is least of your worries.

you guys are all drinking and dancing, the time passing being the least of your worries. you’re on your second drink, and third shot of the night, and that’s when you realize you still haven’t said hi to any of the boys.

“i’m gonna go say hi to everyone else,” you tell the girls as you guys are settling back down from dancing. they all nod and watch you walk to the other side of the room, where austin is now chugging a beer while the rest of them yell “chug, chug, chug!”

as you’re walking over there, you seem to notice a girl with curly hair, standing next to drew.

‘interesting.’ you thought.

austin finishes and they’re all yelling for him. he turns around to your face and smiles. “baby sis!” he yells.

everyone turns to see you, and the screaming is now directed towards you. you were definitely walking out of here with a headache and hearing loss.

you gave them all individual hugs, saving the best one for last. (drew of course.)

“how are you?” chase gives you a pat on the back.

“more than good, i can see you are too.” you chuckle as you point out the spilled drink in his shirt.

he lets out a drunken huff, “yea blame your brother for that one.”

JD raises his head from a plate of wings he’s devouring. “you were in the way!”

you realize you’re still hugging drew, and he’s still got his arms around your shoulders. the thought ran through your mind that you looked like a little fangirl, but you didn’t care. hopefully when the night was over, you’d be doing more than just holding onto him.

he lets go of you, and you internally sigh. “you’ve been drinking?” he asks.

you nod, “not enough tho.”

he laughs at your response then turns to the girl you saw earlier, “odessa, this is y/n.”

odessa.

“nice to meet you!” she waves. she’s pretty, but what was she doing around drew?

you didn’t have the guts to ask, and it would be a weird look if you did, so you left it alone and just mimicked her smile and wave.

“alright i just came to say hi, ill talk to you guys in a few!” you said, wanting to get away from them in a heartbeat as long as she was still around.

you walked away from them while they all were saying ‘see you in a few.’ getting back to the table with the girls, you immediately had to ask them.

“whos that girl with drew?” you said as you sipped your almost empty glass.

“odessa?” madelyn starts, “that’s his friend. they shot a movie together and have been close ever since. they look like a couple tho, right?” she says as she downs a piece of pizza.

hearing that made you feel good yet bad at the same time. they were only friends, yet people seemed to peep at the fact that they looked like more than just friends.

and you weren’t having any of that.

not wanting to speak any more of it, you just let out a ‘hm’ which seemed to go unnoticed.

“how come?” madison asks.

“no reason,” you lie. “they just looked really close.”

—

over the next two hours, you went from drinking, dancing, eating, then repeating then same process. it started to catch up with you, but that wasn’t stopping you. surprisingly, you weren’t that much of a lightweight.

walking and sort of tripping in between people over to the counter with drinks, drew’s there by himself filling up his glass. you weren’t sure were that girl odessa was, but you most certainly didn’t care to find out.

as you slightly stumble, he holds your arm as you get closer so you wouldn’t have to struggle.

“somebody’s having fun,” he laughs.

“i am, i’m not drunk just yet tho dont worry.” you giggle. you started to think your legs were actually giving out on you to the sight of him, and his hand on your arm wasn’t helping your case.

“take it easy,” he says, “JD isn’t the most sober either.”

he motioned his head over to where he was. you turned your head to see your brother doing a line of shots with everyone surrounding him, cheering and yelling some more.

“of course,” you mutter.

drew chuckles, “i got you, don’t worry.”

your stomach was doing flips at this point. his words affected you, even if they weren’t meant to be flirtatious. that’s how bad this attraction was.

it’s silent between the two of you for a second, until you decide it’s time to speak up. ‘now or never’ you thought.

“can i ask you something?” you turned back to him. he replies with a quick ‘sure’ as he put his phone down.

“are you and odessa together or something?” you blurted. maybe you should’ve reworded the statement, but the drinks had gotten your boldness up.

he seemed taken aback, “no, not at all. why?”

you didn’t have a lie for this one, “just wondering.”

he wasn’t moving on from that quickly at all. “i can tell that’s not full truth.”

that little thought came back into your head again. ‘now or never.’

“it’s just… i feel like i want you to see me more than just as a little sis.” you said. when you said this, you didn’t feel bad either. you’ve been wanting him for a good 3 years now, and you’d be damned if you let someone else get him before you did.

he’s not speaking for a good moment which makes you worried, then he finally says something.

“you’re gorgeous y/n, you know that?” he starts. you nod, but you were kind of freaking out at the same time, not really knowing where he would take it from here.

“but i’d think it be wrong if i saw you as anything else other than a little sister. you’re a lot younger, and literally the little sister of a close friend. i just don’t think it would work.” he explains.

fuck no. you were not giving up that easily.

you started to stand a little closer to him. “i’m 21! that’s enough past 18 if i can legally drink. and who cares about JD?”

“i know, i know. but JD most definitely wouldn’t like seeing his sister with his best friend.” drew tries to reason.

“i don’t care,” you drag out the word. “i’ve been crushing on you since i met you. i waited so long to finally tell you.”

you can see the light red start to form at his cheeks and the smirk come to his lips, “i’m flattered, really. but i’d rather not get my ass beat by your big brother.”

“please?” now you were really getting close by wrapping your arms around his neck. “it can be our little secret. no one has to find out. but i just need to know.”

drew’s starting to cave. he rests his hands on the sides of your hip. “need to know what?”

the smirk is starting to become more evident, and his voice starts to drop.

“how you feel, how you taste. i want you so bad.”

“you’re gonna get me in trouble, y’know.”

you don’t notice up until now how close your faces are. he lets out a sigh that sounds like he’s not going to let is guard down, but little do you know he’s been wanting to take you there just as long as you’ve wanted it.

“i’d be lying if i said i didn’t want to bend you over the minute we shook hands.” he said seductively.

“then do it now.” you tell him.

something you’ve been waiting on forever, he gives you a short kiss on the lips. he pulls back quick and make sure no one’s watching, but everyone is too busy drinking and dancing currently.

he rubs his hands up and down on your sides. “let’s go upstairs.”

it’s like a weight lifted off your shoulders. all these years of plotting finally paid off. you were so ready to give him whatever he wanted and have him take you however he pleased.

he held your hand as the two of you walked upstairs, getting to the most closest and available room, he opened the door for you and walked in behind you, locking the door.

he wasted no time either. as soon as the two of you were closed off, he started kissing you deep. forcing his tongue into your mouth, teeth clashing, and his hands working to get your pants off.

you definitely weren’t trying to waste a moment either. your hands immediately went under his shirt to feel his abs, and to take it off.

his hands worked fast. he got your pants off after pushing you down to the bed, and now your top was gone as he started to feel you through your bra. you were still trying to get his belt off.

he’s groaning into your mouth and it’s the hottest thing you could possible experience. “shit, i need to taste you. let me taste it baby.”

as he’s working to get your bra off, you finally managed taking off his belt and unzipping his jeans. he took down his own pants, then went straight to dipping his head down there and took of your panties, quite literally discarding them. he pushes your legs open and gets to work.

he opened your folds with his hands then put his tongue on you, which had you moaning in seconds.

drew knew exactly what to do with his tongue. you were already so worked up on him, and now he was eating you out like it was the first meal he’s ever had.

he brought a thumb up to your clit. “like fuckin candy, mama. so sweet.”

“drew!” you practically screamed out.

he moans against your clit, which really does it for you. “be as loud as you want, baby, nobody can hear us.”

and that’s exactly what you do. you don’t hold back your moans for a second.

he puts a finger in you and starts moving it quick, curling it while still using his tongue. he was a fuckin pro.

the release was coming quick, but he stops. he hears the sound of disappointment and sees it on your face.

he pulls down his boxers, “it’s okay. gonna make you cum around me as many times as this pussy can.”

that’s all he has to say for you to practically push yourself even closer to him.

and he was real big. you were almost afraid he wouldn’t fit. but right now, you had to have him in every way. you’ve craved him for too long and you didn’t care if it hurt.

he lines up with your entrance and rubs the tip along it. “you ready?”

“give it to me.” you say. he takes this as his cue to push his length inside you.

both of you let out a sigh when he goes in. he makes sure you feel every inch of him, moving in slowly then bottoming out completely.

“you feel too good, princess.” he groans. all you can do is whimper at how full you felt with him inside.

after a few moments of letting the feeling sink in, he starts moving. your breathing starts to heavy, and it feels like you’re on cloud nine.

“mhm, that’s right. feel me baby.” he says as the pace speeds up. he throws his head back and his hands squeeze your hips, holding you down and making sure you take it all.

he then plants a leg on the bed, fixing his position so he can hit it even deeper. you can’t even form words at this point. it’s just all moans and “ah ah ah” sounds.

you can feel him all the way in your guts. he’s in there so deep, going completely ham on your tight hole. it was so much that you reached your arms out to try and block his hips a bit.

drew wasn’t taking that. “uh uh baby. you wanted this right? you wanted to know. you wanted to be a big girl and take it, so that’s what you’re gonna do.”

“it’s so deep!” you’re able to blabber out. he puts his leg down and leans back on his knees, bringing you to sit up with him. now his hands are supporting your waist as your hands find his shoulders, holding on for dear life.

“i know it is baby i feel it,” he says against your mouth. “i knew you’d be a good girl for me tho, shit. taking this cock like a damn pro.”

as he thrusts up into you, he starts grinding your waist into him. this is a whole new feeling that has you really screaming out now.

“you like that, pretty?” he says into your ear.

“so much!” you mewl. he chuckles at the state your in. fucked out and filled with his cock.

“yea i know you do baby.” he says. “you just needed a real man to come and work you huh?”

he lets out a breath before continuing, “yea, you like your men with some experience. don’t you baby?”

you just let out more moans at his words, he knew what he was doing and he was proud.

you felt the orgasm approaching, and he could tell too. “you gonna cum?”

“yes!” you yelp.

“go ahead sweet girl. let me feel this pussy gush around me.”

when he gave you the ok, you let go. you were cumming and crying at the same time, everyone downstairs probably wondering where the two of you went. but did either of you care?

absolutely not!

“that’s it, good job baby. i knew you’d be a good girl f’me.” he says, thrusts slowing down to soak in all of your orgasm.

he laid you back down to get a few more thrusts in. now he’s chasing his own release.

“i’m gonna cum, sweetheart. you want it on your stomach?”

“anywhere,” you respond.

he looked shocked. “oh yea? what if i knock you up? then what are we gonna do?”

“i’m on the pill! promise.” you tell him.

his eyes squeeze shut. he was real close. “okay baby, here it comes.”

you feel the hot liquid squirt inside you and fill you up. you could almost cry again from how good it felt.

when he was done, he stayed inside for a little just to calm down. after that, he pulled out and laid down next to you.

“i’m glad you convinced me, best sex i’ve had in a while.” he’s still catching his breath but smiling.

you giggle, “it’s about time i got my hands on you.”

he laughs as well, holding you close and letting both of your bodies relax. “guess you’re all mine now.”

him saying that made your heart burst. it’s the only words you’ve been wanting to hear for so long. “i guess you’re all mine too.”

he smiles, but then you suddenly remember you’re at a party. “we better go back down before they start a watch party for us.” you said while getting up, trying to find where he even threw your underwear.

“right. we’re getting you a plan b tomorrow too.” he says, and you definitely have to agree.

but finally, that was your man.

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slutforitoshi · 1 year

Text

sae and rin itoshi - aphrodisiac *:･ﾟ✧

ft. sae itoshi x f!reader x rin itoshi, 18+ minors dni

cw: threesome, rin and sae literally fight over your body, f!masturbation, oral m!receiving and f!receiving, fingering, unprotected sex, cumming on face

synopsis: your hangover leads you to make the best mistake

wc: 3k

A/N: so fucking feral for this duo <3 also as for requests, i’m open to prompts but it’s not a guarantee i’ll write it T-T (please send in ideas though i’m always looking for inspo!)

you woke up with your head pounding incessantly, mimicking the music from the clubs you hopped the night before. you don’t even remember how you got home. fuck, why did you think it was a good idea to drink like you were still a freshman?

you fumble for your phone at the edge of your bed, hoping you remembered to charge it before you passed out. near the top of your notification stack was a text from your roommate.

roomie: headed back home for the weekend! i was gonna say bye but you were still knocked out lol. introduce me to your new friends again sometime, they were cute ;)

what was she talking about? as far as you remembered you came home alone after a night out with some old high school friends that your roommate already knew. well, as far as you remembered was around 6 shots in, barely past the 1st club.

you laid a bit longer in bed, trying to recall the events that ensued after your old friend challenged you to match her. how were you supposed to know she could outdrink any frat guy multiple times over? the night started coming back to you in flashes, like you were watching a compilation of embarrassing clips that got increasingly worse.

dancing on a table, throwing up in a bush, getting close to kissing the bartender for free drinks…was there anything you didn’t do??

the pounding in your head grew in intensity, pushing you out of bed and straight to the medicine cabinet. tylenol, tylenol, tylenol…aha there. you grab the white bottle and pop the cap open, downing two at once, dry (that’s how desperate you were for the migraine to subside).

the couch was your next destination. you felt the soft cushions and way too many pillows and plushes rest against you, giving you immediate relief from the aches in your body. see? i told you it was a good idea you said internally at your mom who was complaining how the couch decor was “excessive”.

you waited for the pills to kick in, to give you any relief from the persistent pressure that surrounded your temples. and it did…only to move down lower. it starts off as a slight pressure on your abdomen, then blossoming into heat. you weren’t innocuous at this point in life, and recognized exactly what it was: you were horny.

and the heat only grew, morphing into a roaring fire, with the incinerator located right between your thighs. you could already feel the dampness, threatening to leak past your folds onto cloth. this cannot be right. who gets aggressively horny during a hangover??

you begrudgingly hoist yourself up from the soft plushes, and make your way back to the medicine cabinet, starting to wonder if the tylenol might’ve been expired or something. the bottle itself looked normal, until you looked inside it. tylenol isn’t supposed to be pink.

you fish a pill out, looking for any engravings that might tell you what the fuck you ingested half an hour ago. libido-max. from the name of it alone (along with your still intensifying symptoms) you should’ve realized what it meant. nonetheless you resort to good old google to help explain.

“libido-max is an over the counter sex enhancement pill for women complete with a warming formula for maximized pleasure” your hand clasps over your mouth as you continue reading, “the recommended serving size is one pill as the dosage is quite strong.”

it dawns upon you that you took double the recommended amount. shit. you were definitely never drinking like that ever again. you contemplate texting your roommate why tf did you switch out the tylenol for female viagra, but decided against it. technically it was on you, too. leave it up to your dreadfully hungover self to swallow bright pink pills without thinking twice.

as you felt the temperature in your body continue to rise, there was only one method you could think of for relief. switching to incognito you pull up a porn site, settling on a video you thought would do. you skipped through all the bad acting in the intro, right into the action, desperate for some release.

“harder…fuckk” the woman through your screen moans, and you could feel your clit throbbing in response. reaching down, you’re met with more slick than you’d ever encountered touching yourself. squelching noises echoed your room, growing louder than the sinful moans coming from the speaker of your phone.

your small fingers slid easily into sopping entrance, and the sensation was more than welcomed. small moans began to escape your lips as well, harmonizing with the other woman’s. you synchronized your fingers with the thrusts in the video, imagining it was you getting pounded, fucked so mercilessly by a thick cock.

after a particularly loud moan through your phone, you can feel it. like you’re at the edge of a cliff ready to drop before-

knock knock.

aand you lost it. grumbling, you exit out of the tab and pull up your already drenched panties. if it was another old lady trying to recruit you to join a pyramid scheme, you weren’t sure if you could resist slamming the door.

“look i’m not interested in-” instead of a short old woman with a fake smile, you’re met with a pair of teal eyes. two actually, now that you noticed the second figure behind him.

“oh my gosh i’m so sorry, i thought you were- well nevermind um can i help you?” you stumble over your words, half out of embarrassment and half because you realized the two guys standing in front of you were attractive.

“we stopped by to return your jacket” the one with light maroon colored hair says, holding up the familiar coat you left your house wearing last night.

“shoot, thank you so much” you take the coat out of his hands, noticing that they’re veiny with long fingers. you try to ignore the flash of heat the observation causes.

“how did you know it was mine though?” you cautiously ask.

“oh she must not remember” the taller one says softly. your mind starts racing. what the fuck did you do in front of them?

“it wasn’t anything that bad” the one in front reassures you, seeing the panic settle on your face. “you just passed out in our apartment and we had to carry you here.”

wasn’t anything that bad??? you were mortified. you knocked out in some random (really attractive) guys’ apartment and they had to bring you back. well that explains how you got home last night then.

“oh my gosh i’m so sorry,” you replied, clearly flustered. the guys don’t give much of a response though, simply shrugging. you noticed that they were pretty expressionless.

“it’s ok, we live next door anyways” the green haired one says, looking to the right. “we were taking out the trash and came back to you on our couch. your roommate called you a bit after so we knew where to take you.”

ah, they must be the cute new friends your roommate texted you about.

before you could respond, a pair of cold hands were on your cheek (or maybe you thought they were cold because you were still under the effects of the pills).

“are you sick?” the owner of the cold hands was the maroon-haired one. you flinched away from his hands, turning an even deeper shade of pink.

“n-no, probably just a bit hungover though” you nervously laughed, hoping they’d just accept that.

“you look like you’re burning up, maybe a fever?” the other one steps forward, taking a closer look at your flushed appearance. yeah it’s because you feel like a fucking dog in heat and having two insanely hot guys in front of you is not. helping.

“no i promise i’m fine” you try harder to convince the duo, “i probably just need to rest up from last night…”

neither of them move from the front door, and the green haired one cocks an eyebrow. they clearly don’t believe you.

“do you need any medicine? we should have flu medicine-” the green haired one starts.

“nope no flu medicine needed here” you let out a nervous chuckle, trying not to let your knees buckle. the knot in your abdomen grew significantly since you answered the door. you needed to cum, and soon.

“hey we don’t mind getting you some. i think your roommate mentioned she was leaving this weekend and you shouldn’t be home alone without medicine-” this time the maroon haired one is cut off.

“i promise i’m not sick” you exasperate, now having to lean against the frame for support (clearly not a good look for your case). the shorter guy’s eyebrows furrow in concern. both pairs of feet were still planted in your doorway, and you realize they weren’t leaving until you either accepted the medicine or told them the truth.

looking back, the other option was clearly the more logical and less embarrassing one. you’d blame the hangover for the words that spilled out of your mouth next.

“it’s not because of a fever. i…i accidentally mistook sex enhancement pills for tylenol and took way more than the recommended dose,” your bit your lip, hoping they’d leave now that you were honest. the two look at each other, and the teal glint in their eyes served as a signal that they were thinking the exact same thing.

“there’s still a way we can help you though”

~~~

“rinn” you moaned as his fingers ghosted over your already pebbled nipples through the thin tank you had on.

pleasantries and introductions were quickly exchanged as they kicked off their shoes and began undressing. you could hardly believe your ears at their suggestion, but you weren’t exactly in the position to refuse such a tempting offer. in fact, you were more than eager to accept.

now, you were draped over the couch, your head facing who you now knew as rin. sae was on the opposite end, marveling at the mess you made through your cotton shorts.

“it’s like a fucking flood down here,” and he starts pulling at the waistband.

rin continues to tease your nipples, never giving you enough friction. you were so responsive, even the slightest touch had your back arching. please, more, you beg internally. rin seems to recognize your pleads though and finally pulls your tank down to reveal the hypersensitive skin.

his lips are upon them immediately, sucking harshly, causing an exceptionally loud moan from you. from your half-closed lids, you could see sae’s eyes darken. as if unhappy how his brother could emit such a reaction from you. he was determined to do better.

you were fully exposed waist down now, and sae slowly runs a finger down the soaked slit, taking note of how you shivered from the action. he presses two fingers and is amazed at how easily they slip in, prompting him to add a third.

“fuck sae…so full” you moan out, which sae responds with a smirk before he starts moving his digits. in and out, in and out, and you could feel yourself tiptoeing the side of the cliff again. what does it for you is rin though.

“stop hogging her pussy” he says, rising from your chest. one of his hands move down, pausing precisely at your clit. as soon as he’s circling them you feel the push over the edge.

“i-i’m cumming!” you scream out, followed by waves of intense moans. you weren’t sure if you’d ever cum so hard before. it took a minute for you to recover, only to see the brothers’ hands had left you.

“what the fuck rin. that was my moment” sae spat, clearly pissed he wasn’t the catalyst to your orgasm.

“you should’ve been faster then” rin responds, a glare settled on his face. the warmth in your stomach was still growing, and you were still desperate for their touch.

“i want another” you whine, and teal orbs immediately snap back to you. right, the match was far from over. that was just the first goal.

they assume their old positions, except sae intends to use more than his fingers this time. it felt like fireworks the moment his lips hit your heat. the soft muscle of his tongue circled your clit, then moved down to dip inside the leaking hole. the added combination of the pill’s effects along with the sensitivity from your last orgasm had you bucking your hips which sae quickly restricted. he pins down your lower waist with his arm, and you could feel how strong he was.

rin’s lips instead sought out yours, messily kissing them as he fumbled with his belt buckle. then his lips were off yours. a light push causes you to fall onto your back, and he pulls you forward abruptly so that your head is left hanging off the side of the couch. sae’s tongue never leaves you, moving forward with the pull.

you see your first cock of the day, and it’s pretty. long and curved upwards, towards an insanely handsome face. you instinctively open your mouth, tongue slightly hanging out against your bottom lip.

“fuck, i could cum to this view” rin sighs before pushing his length into you. it almost immediately hits the back of your throat, but he pushes further. tears prickle from the invasion, but you refused to push him off you. not when he’s making such sounds.

breathy moans leave his mouth as he thrusts harshly. you could swear that alone made you grow even hotter. the sight of the bulge that forms at your neck every time he pushes in makes him delirious.

sae utilizes his fingers with his free hand again, pressing three fingers into the entrance that happily welcomes them as he laps up the slick that continues to flow out. he curves his fingers just right, hitting the spot as if he’d known the exact blueprint of your body. and the second set of waves come.

“that’s right, cum hard for me”

even sae’s arm couldn’t hold you down as your next orgasm shook you, not that he minded. your move rin he mentally said, but rin had other concerns. your throat had gotten tighter, and the vibrations from your moans were pushing him to his own threshold.

your mouth is hit with a new heat, coming from the man positioned above you. as much as he tried, he couldn’t contain it, and thick white ribbons hits your throat which you struggled to swallow all of.

as he pulled out of your abused cavern though, his length still remained. it was as if the pill’s effects were contagious.

sae had risen from his position, taking the time to free his own cock. thick was the first word that came to mind. it no doubt had a wider circumference than his brother’s, although a bit shorter. he uses his strong arms to flip you over, pulling your ass up near him. what a sight. he aligns himself at the entrance, eager to chase the next crash of waves.

usually rin would object to letting his brother take such a pretty girl first, but frankly, he had to take a break; fucking your throat left him breathless. instead he focuses his attention back towards your lips, laying more gentle kisses against them this time.

sae was still full of need though, and rin’s soft kisses were starkly contrasted with the abrupt stretch of sae’s girth into you. your mind went into a haze, not knowing where to focus your consciousness as rin begins to knead at your hanging breasts.

“taking cock so well” sae grumbles as the sounds of slapping skin grows “like you were fucking made for it.”

sae’s pace is merciless, and it persisted. you couldn’t fathom the extents of his stamina, seeing as how he didn’t even break a sweat. your voice began to grow hoarse from the repeated moans, and sae’s pride grew knowing he was the cause.

“hey, mind sharing?” rin deadpans, growing impatient at his brother’s greed. he’s met with a glare, but sae begrudgingly pulls out, leaving you empty. you began to protest, but rin quickly reassures you.

“i’m right here. gonna fill you up real quick” he picks you up with ease, placing himself under your figure. his cock twitches as the tip prods your entrance, reveling in the way your slick coats him. he swiftly bottoms out in one push. sae’s previous work makes it easy for him to quickly pick up the pace, and you’re left an incoherent mess once again.

“f-feels so good rin” you stammer between thrusts.

“wanna make you cream on my cock. need to feel you cum around me” he mutters

sae’s taken rin’s old position, lining his girth directly in your line of vision. you know what he wants and you happily open your mouth once again. sae begins his attack of new bruises against the back of your throat, relishing in the feeling as you hum in pleasure from rin’s length.

harder, faster you think, desperate to dissipate the pool of heat in your abdomen.

even with your mouth full, rin seems to understand you perfectly, hands gripping harder at your waist to help him reach new depths in you. your muscles began to involuntarily clamp around rin, a sign that you were looking over the cliff again. his thrusts also grow erratic as he’s close to his high.

“f-fuckkk!” you exclaim, losing strength in your lower body. rin continues to pound through your climax, increasing his speed even more until he inevitably shoots strips of white into another tunnel of your body.

sae follows soon after, except he opts to pull out and mark your face instead.

the three of you collapse on your couch, utterly exhausted from the intensity of the session.

before you could catch your breath though, you felt a familiar warmth start to pool once again down below.

“still..still hot” you pant, overheating by the second.

“you heard her rin,” and the brothers shift towards you again, ready for another match.

#rin itoshi #rin #itoshi rin #itoshi sae #sae #sae itoshi #sae itoshi x reader #sae x reader #rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #sae smut #sae itoshi smut #rin itoshi smut #rin smut #blue lock #blue lock smut #bllk #bllk smut

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jobean12-blog · 1 year

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Cowboy for Keeps

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader (Cowboy AU)

Word Count: 3,555

Summary: You’re a city girl and you’ve just moved into the country only to be saved not once but twice but a real life cowboy, who not only looks the part but is the perfect gentleman and you fall...hard.

Author’s Note: Been thinking more and more about cowboy!Joel. And the new pics/gifs from his upcoming movie are great inspo! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you sweet Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: lots of sweet and soft fluff, some flirty fun, protective Joel because a guy at the bar is a jerk- but it’s all good, Joel to the rescue!

Joel Miller Masterlist

You’re just about to pull the cash from your wallet when you feel a body close to you. Too close.

“Let me get that for ya little lady,” a man slurs, the stench coming off him a mix of booze and body odor.

You wrinkle your nose but paste on a small smile and say, “no thank you, I can pay for my own drink.”

He grabs your hand to stop you from handing the money to the bartender and you wrench it away, eyes wide with shock.

“I said I’d get it for ya,” he repeats. “’Round here we don’t let ladies as pretty as you pay for their drinks.”

“Well,” you start, standing from the bar stool. “Where I come from ladies can pay for their own damn drinks and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

The bar is suddenly quiet before it fills with the gruff mumbles and exclamations from the other patrons, mostly the men.

“Best let me buy ya the drink,” the man grits out, his face red. “Don’t wanna embarrass me now do ya’?”

“Honestly, I don’t care about embarrassing you considering I said NO thank you!”

You hold your chin high and cross your arms over your chest, only rocking back on your heels when the man stands and invades your personal space even more.

He lifts his hand and you start to stumble backward, unsure of his next move and that’s when strong arms wrap around your waist and you’re deftly moved out of the way and a large man stands protectively in between you and the drunk.

Except he’s not just a man. He’s a cowboy.

“You got a problem,” the cowboy growls, focusing his angry attention on the drunk guy, while keeping you safely behind him.

“Just tryin’ to buy the lady a drink Joel. I meant no harm,” the drunk man slurs.

“Well no means no so back the fuck off Stone,” the cowboy seethes, low and dangerous. “You know better than that.”

The man, Stone, turns redder than before and hangs his head, mumbling some kind of apology before shuffling back down the bar and sitting with a plop, his face still scrunched up in a mixture of anger and embarrassment. Joel stares at him for a beat before turning around to face you.

“You alright darlin’?” he asks.

You nod, unable to speak as you look him over.

Tall, with long legs clothed in tight jeans and a patterned button down rolled up to his elbows, exposing the corded muscles of his tanned forearms, and warm brown eyes that sparkle when you notice the edges crinkling with his smile.

“Mm hmm,” you answer, letting out an exhale. “Thank you. I wasn’t sure what he was going to do…”

“Nothin’,” Joel finishes. “He ain’t gonna do nothin’ darlin’. Not on my watch.”

He tips the brim of his hat and then holds out his hand.

“Name’s Joel.”

You extend your own and he wraps it in his warm and calloused fingers, the contact sending a jolt of awareness down your spine.

After introducing yourself you reach for your forgotten drink from earlier and take a long sip, noting how the atmosphere of the bar is back to normal again, filled with chatter, clinking glasses, and the sound of billiard balls knocking together.

“You sure you’re ok,” he asks again, seeing the slight tremble in your hand.

“Yeah, just a bit shaken up.”

“Alright then darlin’. You just holler if you need anything.”

With that Joel dips his chin and smiles before heading back to the other end of the bar to finish his game of pool.

You turn away from him but can’t help stealing a side eye peek as he struts off, loving the way his jeans hug his ass.

As much as you try to concentrate on finishing your drink you can’t keep your eyes away from the pool tables and when Joel leans back against the wall, one hand tucked into the back of his jeans and the other clutching the cue stick you realize he’s right out of a cowboy fantasy.

It’s in the width of his shoulders, his dark hair that’s just a little wild and peeking out from under his hat, his unbuttoned shirt that’s tucked neatly into his jeans, all supported by a sleek leather belt. He carries the whole look with ease.

Before he can catch you staring you silently chastise yourself and finish off the last of your beer then hail down the bartender to close your tab and actually pay for your last drink.

“It’s already been paid for,” the bartender explains with a smirk.

Your expression morphs into one of indignation as you open your mouth to argue, once again, that you don’t need any man paying for your drinks.

“It wasn’t Stone!” the bartender quickly says, holding up his hands. “You said no.”

“So then how did it get paid for?” you ask, narrowing your eyes.

“Joel paid,” the bartender says.

The information catches you off guard but for some reason doesn’t bother you at all. You smile at the bartender and throw down a nice tip then turn your attention to where Joel’s standing.

You lock eyes and he grins, giving you a wink and a tip of his hat before he’s called for his next shot.

Reluctant to leave but knowing you should start driving home before it gets dark you gather your bag and see yourself out, but not without taking one last glance behind you, your breath catching in your throat when you see Joel leaning over the pool table, his legs and ass on full display.

“Shit,” you mutter before pushing the door open and stepping out of the bar.

Since you’re still new to the area you’re using your GPS everywhere you go but apparently there’s some new construction work on the main road which causes you to turn off the first street you see. You continue driving and notice the change in scenery almost immediately.

Flat land stretches out to the horizon, now glowing pink and orange with the setting sun, and large farm houses and barns, as well as fences and stables, line the road.

You contemplate pulling over to check your phone but there’s hardly any service out here.

With a sigh of frustration you continue down the quiet road but your car starts to sputter and then jerks forward several times. You panic and quickly maneuver it to the side of the road just as it stops completely.

“What the…?” you gulp.

You press on the gas and check the keys, pressing all the buttons on your dash but nothing happens. That’s when you notice your fuel tank is on E.

“Oh my god,” you cry. “This can’t be happening.”

You rest your head on the steering wheel and fight back the threat of tears through your curses. As you grab your phone and contemplate who the hell to call you hear the sound of hooves on the road and see a small cloud of dust stirring up behind a horse and rider, silhouetted by the setting sun at their backs.

Since you don’t know who it is you lock your doors and wait. The rider rounds your car and stops in front, far enough away so you can see him. He tugs the brim of his hat down to shield his eyes from the sun and leans on the horn of his saddle to look down at you with a smile.

“Joel,” you whisper, unlocking the doors.

He throws one long leg over his horse and holds the reins as he comes to your drivers side door.

You roll down the window.

“Hey there darlin’.”

“Hey,” you reply sheepishly.

“What are you doin’ sittin’ here on the side of the road?”

“Well…um…you see…I sorta ranoutofgas.”

“What was that sugar?” he asks, unable to understand your last rush of words.

“I ran out of gas!” you huff, averting your eyes.

“Aw come on now, that’s nothin’ to be ashamed of.”

Despite his words you can see the grin pulling at his lips.

“Don’t you dare laugh!” you chide. “Haven’t you ever run out of gas?”

He ponders your question then looks up at his horse, Whiskey.

“Well, good ‘ole Whiskey here never runs outta gas so….”

You purse your lips to fight your own smile.

“Come on,” he says, opening your car door. “Get your things I’ll give you a lift.”

“But I live pretty far from here,” you tell him.

“That’s fine. My ranch is just a few miles down the road. I have some gas and we’ll bring it back and fill your car up.”

“Wow,” you muse. “Twice in one day.”

“What’s that darlin’?”

“You saved me twice! In one day!”

“Must be my lucky day,” he says with a wink.

You grab your things and secure your car before looking up at Whiskey.

“Ever ride a horse before?” Joel asks.

“Maybe just once or twice, but a long time ago,” you admit.

He places his boot in the stirrup of the saddle and easily mounts the horse.

“Come on’ sugar.”

You take his outstretched hand, his large fingers closing around yours in a firm grip as he helps you on to the back of his horse.

You press yourself against his back to keep from sliding off, thankful he can’t see your face when you feel his hard warmth so close.

“Hold on,” he says before he snaps the reins and Whiskey starts off at a brisk trot.

You squeal and wrap your arms around his waist, clinging to him with fistfuls of his shirt.

When you feel his abs flex with laughter you squeeze him tighter, huffing out expletives.

The ride to his ranch doesn’t take long and by the time you’re turning down the dirt path to his farm house the sun is just dipping under the horizon and the first stars are blinking into existence in the darkening sky.

“Wow,” you whisper looking up as the horse slows.

“Not used to this kind of sky?” Joel asks as he offers you help off Whiskey.

“Not really,” you tell him, still looking up. “The city lights are beautiful but they’re always too bright…”

He nods in understanding, his hand still resting on your waist.

“Can I get you anythin’ darlin’?”

You bring your eyes back to him and smile. “Yeah, I’d love a drink please.”

He pops his elbow out at you and you slip your arm through his as he leads you up the porch steps.

When you get inside he releases you and heads for the fridge.

“Lemonade, iced tea? Water?” he asks.

“Iced tea sounds great, thanks.”

He pours two glasses and guides you back out onto the porch, sitting himself down on the large swing. You sit next to him, close enough that your shoulders brush every so often.

The sky has completely darkened now and the quiet of the night surrounds you. The only sounds you hear are the chirping crickets and the creaking of the porch swing as Joel uses his foot to push you back and forth.

“So do you always ride down the road hoping to catch a damsel in distress?” you ask, breaking the comfortable silence.

He chuckles before taking his hat off and placing it on his knee, his large hand running through his hair and tussling his already wild locks.

“Naw sugar, just enjoy my sunset rides. Nothin’ like that big open sky turning from blue to purple to orange and pink before it all sinks into blackness.”

“I bet,” you sigh, leaning your head back.

You can feel his eyes on your face and you turn his way, a tension, an attraction brewing between you and the anticipation makes you fidget, picking at your jeans.

“Why don’t you come watch the sunset with me tomorrow night?” he asks. “I know the perfect spot right here on the ranch.”

“Really?” you ask, your eyes bright. “That sounds amazing.”

He smiles warmly and stands carefully from the swing, offering his hand. You take it and stand, your arms brushing as you remain close. He places his hat back on his head and adjusts it, your eyes following his every move.

“I’m gonna grab the gas for your car then I’ll drive you back.”

“Ok.”

You watch him walk off to the barn just across from his house before stepping down from the porch and admiring your surroundings.

He returns with a large plastic fuel tank and once again gives you his arm so he can walk you to his truck. He opens your door and helps you in.

On the ride back to your car you fall into easy conversation about your life in the city before your move and he tells you more about the ranch.

Once your gas tank is full you lean against the door of your car, nibbling your bottom lip.

“I don’t know how to properly thank you Joel.”

“No thanks necessary darlin’. It was my pleasure.”

You look at each other for a moment, the moon the only light illuminating the features of your faces and you see his eyes drop to your mouth.

He clears his throat and hangs his head, his hands landing on his hips as he kicks at some unseen rock on the road.

“Well, I guess I’d better be going,” you say, even though you sound a little reluctant.

“But I’ll see you tomorrow,” you finish, the reluctance replaced with clear eagerness.

“Absolutely. Are you sure I can’t pick you up?” he asks.

“Nah. I have to learn my way around! And now that I have gas I should be fine,” you giggle.

He smirks and pulls his cell out of his back pocket.

“Give me your number,” he says. “This way if you have any trouble you can call me.”

You type in your info and hand it back, smiling when your phone buzzes with a text from him.

“Thanks again Cowboy.”

“Anytime darlin’.”

Before you can change your mind you lean forward and place a soft kiss to his cheek, his beard rough under your lips.

He grins and slips his arm behind you to pull open your car door. With that, you turn and get in, waving before you drive off.

Your trip back to Joel’s the next day is much easier with a full tank of gas and proper directions. When you make the last turn that leads out to his ranch you’re almost overwhelmed by the vibrant green of the grass and the cloudless blue of the sky that stretches unendingly in front of you.

The sky is just beginning to change color and you can’t wait to see the full beauty of a sunset over the ranch.

Joel greets you by the gate, helping you out of your car before he leads you toward the barn.

You give him a questioning look and he quickly explains with, “just had some baby pigs born.”

With a barely contained squeal you grab his arm, the excitement rushing out of you in jumbled words.

“Thought you might like to see them,” he adds, before you can even get the question out.

After visiting with the sweet babies and cuddling them as much as their mother would allow, Joel asks for your hand and ushers you away from the barn and farm house. You move deeper onto the ranch land, silent as he leads you to a small clump of bushes and you hear water.

“Where are we?’ you ask.

Joel’s quiet, his voice barely above a whisper.

“This is my favorite spot on the ranch. It’s a natural pond, fed by an underwater spring. It’s rare ‘round here, the runoff from the mountains mostly goes the other way. But this keeps the cattle well-watered and it’s a great place to cool off.”

He’s quiet again as he pulls on your hand a bit, and as you sit down, you discover a blanket already spread on the ground along the shoreline.

“Oh look at you all prepared,” you tease.

“Didn’t want ya to be sittin’ on the grass darlin’. Figured this would be more comfortable.”

You feel him scoot closer to you, your shoulders leaning against one another.

As the day draws to a close on the vast expanse of the ranch, the sun begins its gradual descent toward the horizon, casting a warm golden glow across the landscape.

You lift your hand and shield your eyes from the last moments of brightness, only able to peek through you fingertips to see.

Joel shifts and then your face is enveloped in shadow when you feel him press his hat onto your head.

“Does that help?” he asks, looking at you.

“Definitely,” you answer, giving him a quick glance before turning back toward the sunset. “Thank you.”

The sky continues to transform into a masterpiece of colors, blending shades of orange, pink, and purple.

Silhouettes emerge as the light recedes, enhancing the beauty of your surroundings. The rustic wooden fences that enclose the fields take on an ethereal quality, their weathered surfaces aglow with the evening light.

As the sun finally dips below the horizon, the sky gradually transitions into deeper shades of blue and purple. The last remnants of daylight illuminate the landscape with a gentle glow, and the stars begin to appear, twinkling in the darkening sky. The ranch settles into a tranquil stillness, and you let out a contented sigh as you stare at the glimmer of the moon on the water.

“I like this. Being out here. On the surface it’s dark and quiet, but if you use all your senses, there’s so much more.”

“Tell me what you sense?” he asks as he shifts even closer.

“It’s quiet but not really. I can hear the cattle and other animals and every once in a while I see a flash of a firefly.”

You nudge his shoulder and point over the water, giggling when you see some dancing lights.

“I can even smell the grass and something else…rugged and adventurous, like earth, leather, and pine…”

You close your eyes and hear Joel swallow.

“And what about your sense of touch?” he murmurs. “What do you feel?”

Before you can answer, you feel his fingertips tracing up your arm to find the curve of your jaw and cradle it in his hand. He turns your head toward his and brushes his hat from your head.

His eyes fall to your mouth, his own just a breath away as he traces his nose across your skin. Your eyes flutter closed when you feel the pressure of his lips, gentle and delicate, before your entire body tingles with electricity and warmth.

You press yourself closer and when he feels your agreement he deepens the kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist and threading his fingers through the belt loops of your jeans to pull you into his lap.

“My touch is telling me a lot of things,” you whisper against his lips before he moves to trail kisses down your neck. “All of them good. So fucking good.”

He reaches for the hem of your shirt, slipping his fingers beneath. You can feel the coarse, rough calluses on his fingertips and palms as he explores your skin, humming in appreciation.

“You’re soft as silk darlin’.”

You moan his name, gripping his shoulders as he pulls you tight against him to meet your mouth in another heated kiss.

He smiles against your lips, stroking your back with work roughened but still gentle hands.

“What did you think of that sunset?” he asks.

“Most beautiful sunset I’ve ever seen.”

He keeps you in his arms and lays down, tugging you into his chest so your head rests along his shoulder.

“Show ain’t over yet darlin’. Look.”

He points a finger toward the sky and you move your eyes up, darkness stretching far and wide above you, broken up by the glitter of thousands of stars.

“Wow,” is all you manage.

He smooths his hands over your waist and you idly run your fingers over his chest, enjoying the interplay of his muscles underneath the soft cotton of his shirt.

The feeling of him is overwhelming and the heat in your body builds even as you press your thigh along his and soak in more of his warmth. You turn slightly and place your hand on his belt buckle, dipping your finger under the metal and tugging him until he’s facing you.

He props himself up on his elbow, his long legs stretched out and tangled with yours. His eyes are intense as they wander over your face and you can’t help but tempt hm as you bite your lower lip.

He leans down, meeting your lips in a kiss while his free hand finds your silky skin, caressing every inch he can reach.

Your fingers find his hair, weaving through the softness before giving it a tug so you can deepen the kiss. The sparkle of the stars is dimmed in comparison to what he does to you. In every touch of skin, every kiss, even in the way he looks at you, he makes you want more. He makes you want everything.

@sstan-hoe @pedritosdarling @blackwidownat2814 @lorilane33 @justkinsey @laineyreads @beccablogsthings

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #cowboy!joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x female reader #cowboy!joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #cowboy au #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader

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bomber-grl · 7 months

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Mike Schmidt jealousy headcanons !

Pairing(s): Mike Schmidt x Gn!Reader (established relationship)

Note! Has some plot | This is my Jealousy headcannons for movie Mike, stating this because I just might make video game Michael Afton headcannons aswell in the near future

Mike Schmidt relationship Headcanons !

If the two of you are together best believe it’s because of the trust, loyalty and strong bond between you guys.

So to say that Mike trusts you would be an understatement.

However, he can’t help but feel the jealousy seeping into him as he watches you laugh with some random person.

He tries his best not to be and most times it’s effective.

And honestly the majority of times where you’d be eating out on a date, he’d just keep calm and shake it off

Especially if you show blatant disinterest and reject them right then and there.

But like all people, he’s experienced jealousy

At first he himself didn’t even realize it

Abby did.

After Mike got fired, he was able to somehow be unbanned from the mall and had started taking abby there when he could.

Mainly cuz there was a crafts store she absolutely adored)

He and Abby were crossing into the food court section and he had a drink in hand.

Well Abby pointed you out in the distance talking to some rando, and he saw you laughing and playfully shoving the person.

He had been so busy looking at you that when Abby’s urgent yelling brought him back he realized he spilt the drink.

the drink had spilled everywhere.

He squeezed it too hard.

Once he snapped out of it and cleaned it up he decided it’d be time to head back.

When you finally arrive at the house mike is no where in sight, but Abby is.

Once she hugs you and welcomes you home she sits you down and starts going through her day with you.

After she brushed off that mike was in the restroom)

Midway her story she mentioned how she and mike saw you at the mall and told the story of his jealousy.

You were honestly surprised

Like home dude never seemed the jealous type so pretty shocking.

Once you send Abby back to her room you go pass the vacant restroom and went for his room.

Once you sat down you asked about it and although embarrassed, he admitted to feeling a bit jealous.

Definitely needs reassurance and that’s done by cuddling and being there for him during the night.

Of course other instances regarding jealousy occurs.

And a situation like this is when you’re at Abby’s school talking with this other teacher who had walked into the picture and became an assistant/tutor.

You were talking and although your relationship was obvious to everyone at the school this teacher decided to make a move.

Most times hes a bit more stand off ish when facing a situation like this.

If anything it’s just awkward for him and he doesn’t know where to put his hands.

But when the teacher looks at him and smirks he almost jumps that goddamn teacher right then and there.

Needs to be calmed down and he goes out of the room to do just that.

Then feels better when you go out to reassure him too.

My point here is that he does get jealous but it’s never in a very obvious way.

Most times he doesn’t do anything and lets you handle it.

But he’ll have his jealous moments.

If this isn’t something you like about him, then he tries to improve his jealousy.

If you’re really jealous too and got upset that he wouldn’t seem as jealous as you.

You’re in for a surprise.

If anything he didn’t want to make it an issue but he’ll definitely try to communicate with you.

Even if it’s very constipated communication and a bit difficult for him to express.

If you’re the teasing type when someone is jealous

Don’t.

I mean sure, sometimes the teasing could be good to bring up the mood.

But most times his jealousy comes up is in serious conversation.

If anything it’d seem like you’re making fun of him.

All I can say is

Communication 👏👏👏👏

Btw

If you ever decide to make him jealous on purpose

No, just no.

Note! Mike as your husband coming soon 🥳

#gn reader #female reader #male reader #fanfic #fluff #fanfic fluff #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt x reader #fnaf mike #mike schmidt #mike fnaf #fnaf mike schmidt #fnaf michael afton #fnaf micheal #fnaf fandom #fnaf movie #fnaf #fnaf fanfic

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chiwhorei · 7 months

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ʚ Bʀᴏᴛʜᴇʀ Kɴᴏᴡs Bᴇsᴛ ɞ

╰┈➤ Big Bro!Yuji Itadori x lil sis!reader

╰┈➤ Request: “pretty please with cherry on top write smth with big brother yuji x hardcore rape or smth,”

╰┈➤ Tags: college/no curses, no edit, short-form, drabble, NSFW, dark, incest, drinking, noncon, good guy Yuji

Yuji is the sweetest big brother.

He dotes on you at every turn, especially since you picked the same university as your big brother. Yuji was so proud when you told him. Your brother walks you to your morning classes and back to your dorm every day. Yuji insists on carrying your backpack and any stray books you need to lug around. Being a freshman is hard, every gen-ed has a textbook that could double as a brick, and Yuji doesn’t want his perfect little sister to lift a finger when he deems it unnecessary.

Your brother also makes sure you have plenty of fun, that’s what these years are for right? He brings you to all of the upperclassman parties and drives you and your girlfriends home safe. Yuji doesn’t care much for drinking anyway, it’s more fun watching you in this brand new- and kinda scary- environment. Plus, if some guy thinks it wise to come up to you while you and your friends are having fun, Yuji needs to be sharp so he can punch him through a wall.

You’ll never forget the first party your brother ever brought you to, a waisted frat boy spilled his drink down the front of your dress. “Oops,” was his apology, “guess you’ll have to take it off.” Yuji reacted so fast, the last of the drunken strangers words got clipped by the sound of his teeth chipping.

Your heart races at just the memory, the flash of unmistakable rage melting from your brother’s face almost immediately when his attention turned back to you. Shushing you, brushing hair from your face and doing a once over to ensure you hadn’t caught stray droplets of that poor fuckers blood.

It’s not that Yuji’s clueless, he knows that bringing a cute little freshman to the big-kid parties will garner some unfavorable attention. It all evens out, though, when he gets to watch the liquor as it flushes your face and pulls at the hem of your already-too-short dress.

You get so needy after just a few drinks- needy for attention, needy for a dancing partner, needy for another red cup of fruity liquor. And your brother is always there to help.

That’s what he’s made for, Yuji thinks, to be all the things you need. So when the parties start getting slow and you’ve about reached you limit of alcohol before things start getting fuzzy, Yuji’s right there to offer you a steady arm and one last drink.

“I think,” you hiccup, “I think I’m drunk. Like- really drunk.” You extend your vowels in a way that definitely proves you point as Yuji sits you in the passenger seat of his car. You don’t have to tell him, he knows. He’s the one that refills your cup as soon as it’s empty.

You don’t notice where Yuji’s sitting you down until you’re falling back into the mattress. You fist the comforter at your sides, you’re not in your dorm room, you’re in your brother’s apartment.

“Did you have fun tonight?” Your vision is bleary and unable to focus, but you can see the outline of your brother above you. Yuji busies himself with the straps of your heels, but isn’t holding his breath for you to respond.

His hands feel detached as they settle behind your knees, like the skin he’s touching isn’t your own. Your limbs are deadweight, but Yuji is inexplicably strong and pushes your legs up to your chest. The tight dress you wore tonight falls at the front and your tits spill into view.

Yuji takes a moment to enjoy the sight of you in his bed, dress scrunched around your waist and panties long gone. Wait- where did your panties go? You don’t remember taking them off.

“W-wait Yuji, what’s- what’s going on?” The liquor sloshes in your head when your cheek falls to one side, it’s taking too much energy to keep up.

“Don’t worry, baby, I’m going to make you feel good. You trust your big brother right?” And you nod, because of course you do. In times where you can’t think straight, Yuji can do it for you.

A mess of pink hair tickles the inside of your thighs, and a wet-hot tongue is licking long stripes into your pussy. You squeal on contact, and a low groan rips from your brother’s throat.

“Such a sweet little girl.” He whispers into your lips, punctuating with an open-mouth kiss to you clit. He could lick at you like this forever, leave the strain in his jeans to drain all the blood in his head just so he doesn’t have to stop fucking his tongue into you.

“Want you, want you Yuji..” you’re words paw at him, pulling him up to meet your face. He’s got his weeping cock in his fist before you can say another word.

He’ll fuck you into his mattress all night, pump you full of cum, throw you through drunken, dizzy orgasms until your little body goes into tremors.

Because you get whatever you want when it comes to Yuji, because that’s what big brothers are for.

𓈒 ﹒ ☆ 𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ ☆ 𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ ࣭

#yuji itadori #yuji itadori smut #yuji itadori x reader #yuji smut #yuji x reader #jjk smut #tw.incest #tw.noncon

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samandcolbyownme · 17 days

Text

Sam originally won the poll, but I got carried away with a Dealer!Zach Justice one which you can find right here.. so now onto Dealer!Sam. Enjoy!

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, Dealer!Sam, mentions of smoking weed and cigarettes, mentions of drinking, reader is slightly drunk, reader gets high, reader gets cheated on, unprotected sex, biting, scratching, hair pulling, choking, oral (f rec), fingering, creampie, filth

Word count: 3.5k | not edited

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The music was blasting through the club.

You could feel the bass beating within your body each time it thumped out of the speakers.

You were having so much fun.

Key word, were.

As the song changes, you look down at your empty cup, deciding to make your way to the liquor counter, it occurs to you that you haven’t seen your friends in like four songs.

After grabbing your drink your spot Kira. You raise your hand, waving to her and you watch as her eyes go wide and she smiles.

“There she is.” She mouths, pointing towards you. You continue to make your way over when you’re met with them halfway, “Where’s Twyla?”

Kira and Leah look at each other, “She went to the bathroom, she isn’t feeling well.”

You pout slightly, sucking your drink through your straw, “Oh no. It’s her birthday.” Leah nods, “No I know. I think if she pukes a little, she’ll be fine.”

She laughs and you shrug, “Have any of you seen Clayton or any of his friends?”

You feel the energy in the room shift, almost like they didn’t expect you to ask about your own boyfriend.

“What?” You look between them confused before letting out a sigh. You look up, “Oh. There’s Tyler.” You push through them and even though they try to stop you, you pull your arm away.

You walk around the crowed of people and before you can ask Tyler anything, your gaze falls to Twyla making out with Clayton while sitting in his lap.

“What the fuck.” You watch as they snap apart and Kira runs up, “We tried to keep her busy.”

“Wait.” You look at Kira, “You two.. you.. you’re defending her? Supporting this?” You scoff in disgust, “I’m done. I don’t know what kind of friendships and relationships you guys have but I don’t want any fucking part of it.”

You drop your cup on the floor, spilling it over the so called friend’s feet and walk away.

As you walk out of the building, you dig around in your purse to try and find your lighter. You continue to ignore your name being called from behind as you bring the cigarette and lighter up.

You round the corner, taking a long drag as rest your back against the brick wall.

You just needed to take a second to figure out what the fuck you were going to do.

As you keep walking, looking at the semi blurred lights from the cars that pass by and the street lights you walk under, you get a good idea.

You pull out your phone, going to a specific contact, hey Sam are home by chance?

A few minutes goes by and he texts you back, yeah, you need your usual?

You hold the cigarette between your lips as you type, no I’m having a shitty night so I’m just looking for something for me.

He responds right away, I’ll leave the door unlocked, I have to pack a few things, so just come in.

You flick the done cigarette as you cross the road to make your way to Sam’s.

——

You push the door to Sam’s house open, “Sam?” You walk in, closing the door, “I’m here.”

“In the den, sweetheart.”

You smile at the nickname as you kick off your heels.

You walk in towards the living room to get to the back den, “Hey.” You walk in, seeing Sam laid out on a giant white bean bag chair as he packs weed into small baggies, “What’s goin’ on?”

You shake your head, sitting down in the gaming chair infront of the desk, “Well..” you laugh slightly, “My boyfriend cheated on me. With the girl who was said to be my best friend.”

Sam’s mouth drops and he shakes his head, “What the fuck is wrong with people?” He frowns, “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

You half frown, “It’s okay. I’m now starting to realize how much of jerk he was said to be.” Sam raises his brows and looks down, “Yeah, love will fuck you up more than any drug ever will. Come over here.”

You look at him and he looks up, nodding for you to come over to him. You walk over, sitting down on the beanbag next to him, hands in your lap, “I’m here.”

Sam reaches down, and comes back with a joint, “This is a new strain I literally just got in. Haven’t sold it yet, but it sounds like you could really use it.”

You smile as you take it from his fingers, “Do you let all of your customers try out the new ones?”

He smirks slightly, “I mean Colby, but other than that.” He shakes his head, “Never really let anyone close enough to.”

You didn’t really know what Sam meant by that, but you would soon figure it out.

After taking turns hitting the joint - Sam really was right. You did need this, “Can I ask you a question?” You turn your head, looking at him as he turns his towards you.

Your eyes scan over his face, taking in his red eyes behind the clear frame of his thin, gold framed glasses.

And how his blonde, fluffy hair pokes out from under his bright pink sweatshirt that’s being lit brighter from the bluish purple LED lights.

Your heart was racing, you wanted to kiss him.

“Y/n?” Sam laughs slightly, “You’re here, but you’re not here. Where’d you go?”

You blink a few times and shake your head, “Sorry.” You giggle out, “I’m actually feeling pretty good right now, I think the alcohol in my system prior helped.”

“If you were drinking, how did you get here?” Sam asks, concern in his tone.

“I walked. I was only two blocks over.” You look back over at him and he sighs, “If I would have known, I would have came and got you.”

You smile slightly and shake your head, “I sobered up a little once I seen why I left, you know?”

He nods and you lay a hand on his arm, laughing, “I’m fine, I’m here aren’t I?” You laugh some more and Sam laughs with you, glancing down at your hand on his arm with a slight smile, “Yeah, no I get ya.”

He lays his head back and looks at you, “So anyway, you wanted to ask me something.”

You look at him confused while you think, “Oh! Yeah, yeah.”

You move around slightly so you can turn towards him more, “Do you remember the first, time I came to buy off of you?”

Sam smirks, nodding immediately, “I do. You were wearing those high waisted jeans and that cropped grey sweatshirt.” He chuckles slightly, “I remember seeing you pull that hundred dollar bill out of your little white cross body purse.”

You laugh, “I thought maybe you would have cut me a good deal if you seen how pretty I was.”

He looks over at you, “If I knew it was for you and not your douchebag boyfriend at the time.”

“No I understand.” You lift your arm, resting your elbow on the top of the beanbag and resting your cheek in the palm of your hand, “Do you remember the text you sent me after I left?”

“I was so nervous.”

“I could tell.” You smirk, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth, “what was it?” You tease, “I don’t say this often but you’re too pretty to be buying drugs?”

Sam smiles huge and covers his face, “Oh no.” He looks at you through his fingers and tries not to laugh, “This is why..” he sighs, “Y/n.”

“This why what? Sam.”

You groans playfully and pulls his hands away from his face, “Don’t tell anyone that I’m nice and shit.”

You smile, “What happens at Sam’s house, stays at Sam’s house.”

He smirks, “That’s the motto.”

You laugh slightly and stare at him for a few seconds, “Why’d you keep selling to me then?”

Sam looks over at you, brows furrowed, “Whatcha mean, sweetheart?” You bring your one leg up and tuck it under your other.

You keep your thighs pushed together, but that doesn’t stop Sam from noticing your drive riding up your fishnet covered thighs.

“Like, I mean.. stop me if I’m reading too much into it, please.. but at the same time, if you said I was too pretty to buy your drugs, why did you..” you shake your head and look over at him.

He chews on his lip as he sits up, “Because I was afraid I wouldn’t ever see you again.”

Your eyes bounce from his lips to his eyes, “You had my number.” You smirk slightly and he shrugs, “You had a boyfriend.”

You both stare at each other for a few seconds before both bursting into laughter.

“Do you care if I hang out here a little bit longer?” You ask and Sam shakes his head, “Stay the night if you want.”

You smile slightly, “Only if y-“

Sam cuts you off, “Sweetheart, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hang out with you. So please, it’s not any burden to me. I swear.”

He chuckles and you nod, laughing nervously, “I’ve.. actually wanted to hang out with you, too. So I’m glad you were free tonight.”

Sam shrugs, “I would have made myself free either way.” He stands up and nods towards the door, “I’ll get you something to change in to.”

You stand up, following him upstairs to his bedroom.

As Sam rummages through his dresser, you bend down to reach up under your dress and pull your fishnets down.

You step out of them as Sam turns around, freezing as he watches you step out of them and stand back up.

Your eyes meet his and you smile slightly, “Sorry, I had to get these things off.”

He shakes his head, handing you the shirt and pants, “You’re fine, um.” He chuckles, “Pants are totally optional in his house, so just, feel free to make yourself at home.”

He winks and you smirk, “I’ll keep that in mind.” You point to your dress, “Can you unzip me?”

He nods and you turn around. You couldn’t lie, you were turned on by his touch.

His hand gently laid on your hip as he used his other to drag the tiny zipper down your back, “There you go.”

He steps back and you turn, hand holding the dress to your chest, “Thank you.”

Sam motions to the door, clearly stalling, “So, I’m going to, uh. Go back down stairs.” He claps his hands together and steps towards the door, “Roll, um, I’ll roll another one.”

You nod, “Sounds good.” You drag out, chewing on your lip.

It’s quiet for a few seconds, and then everything happens so fast.

Sam has your dress pushed down, pooling at your feet before he pushes you back on the bed. His lips trailing down your neck as his hand slides up and down your body.

You let out a moan as you feel his hand knead and pull at your boob, “Sam.” You breathe out, “P-please.”

Your head was already spinning, you were anxious for how you were going to feel after.

“Can I taste what you have between those pretty little legs of yours?”

You whimper in response, “Yes.”

Sam moves down the bed, lips connecting with your skin, “You’re so beautiful.” He doesn’t even take the time to pull your panties down, he just pushes them to the side and goes in for it.

You gasp, arching your back off the bed, “Oh fuck.” You moan out loudly, hand moving to the back of his head as his tongue moves in and out of your aching cunt.

“F-fuck fuck.” You look down, taking in the sight of Sam between your legs.

Every time you’ve seen him, you couldn’t help but have at least a dirty thought or two.

“Holy shit.” Sam groans against you, “You taste so fucking good.” His hands grip your hips harder and pull you towards him, pinning them down as he moves up to suck on your clit.

You throw your head back whining, eyes rolling back as his tongue flicks over the sensitive bundle of nerves between his lips.

You were so close already and Sam pushing two fingers into you was getting you there faster and faster.

“Sam, Sam. Sam.” You gasp out, “Shh-shit.”

You pull his head into you more, trying to move your hips, even though you really can’t. Sam groans against you, his fingers rubbing that perfect little spot that’s urging you to cum for him.

“I-I-“ You let out a loud moans legs squeezing as far as they’ll go. Sam guides you through your high, lifting his head, “Such a good girl.”

You moan louder at his words and he raises a brow, “Mm, someone has a little praise kink I see.”

You open your eyes, looking up at Sam as he crawls up your body. He dips his head down, lips brushing against yours, “You are so fucking hot.”

You smirk, closing your eyes as his lips press to yours, moving in sync. Your arms slide around his neck and you pull on his sweatshirt.

He sits up, taking his glasses off and setting them on the stand before removing his sweatshirt. Your hands run down his torso and he bites his lip when you hook your fingers into his waist band.

Your eyes move up to meet his and you pout, “Please fuck me.”

Sam’s lips twitch into a smile as he pushes down his sweats and boxers in one swoop. He leans down, elbows by your head as he hooks your leg over his hip, “You sure you w-“

You cut him off by crashing your lips into his, “I need you.” You grind your hips down, trying to feel for his cock, “Please.”

He leans his weight into his right arm, leaning down to slip the head of his cock between your folds. Your legs tighten around his waist and he smirks, thrusting his cock the rest of the way into you.

You let out a choked moan, tangling your fingers in his hair and pulling.

Your head was spinning more, another orgasm and you swear you’d pass out.

“S-Sam.” You breathe out, “Fuckfuckfuck.”

Your nails dig into his shoulder, earning a groan from him and you gasp, turning your head to press your lips to his.

He moans against your lips, “You were..” he groans, leaning back as he thrusts deep into you, “..Made for me.”

You squeeze your walls around his cock, pulling him closer to you, “I always knew there was something about you.”

You lay a hand on his cheek, furrowing your brows as you moan out, feeling that build up slowly grow, “You’re just, so different.”

“You’re are so beautiful.” He breathes out, crashing his lips onto yours. His thrusts grow faster and his hand slides up to grip your neck, squeezing slowly as he leans his head back.

He watches as your face twists with pleasure.

Your eyes roll back as you grow more dizzy.

“Cum for me, one for time, baby.” Sam whispers, “Please.” His lips attach to your neck and you moan, squeezing his cock with your walls repeatedly,

You arch your back, moans muffled by Sam’s hand on your neck as you cum around him.

You whimper, rolling your hips as you and Sam work your way through your high, low groans escaping his lips as he moves his hand to kiss up to your lips.

“You have me so close, baby. Where do you want me?”

You tighten your legs, voice coming out in a soft wimper, “D-don’t stop.”

He smirks, shaking his head, “Once I do it, I don’t think I’d be able to stop.”

“That’s fine with me.” You bite down on your lip and Sam nods, “You asked for it.” He pulls out, “Flip over for me, sweetheart.”

You roll over onto your stomach and Sam lifts your hips, and within seconds after, his cock was deeper than it was before.

You were going to lose your mind.

Sam’s hands rub over your hips, “Doing so good for me, baby.”

You push your hips back, moaning at his words, “Fuckfuck, Sam.” You grip the sheets and pull, moaning even louder as Sam’s fingers drag down go rub your clit.

Your walls clench around his cock and he groans, “Got one more in ya, sweetheart?” He throws his head back, using both hands to grip tightly into your hips, “Fuck, cum with me. Cum with me.”

He leans down, planting a few kisses on your shoulder before sliding a hand up to your neck, gently squeezing.

You bring a hand up, laying it on top of his hand and he squeezes harder.

Your moans are growing quieter the harder his grip gets. Your eyes roll back and you can’t help but throw your hips back to meet Sam’s.

Your jaw hung slack as the fucked out euphoria feeling settles in.

Your hand drops to the bed and the band in your belly snaps yet again, leaving you there, moaning silently as your walls milk Sam’s cum into your cunt.

Sam’s hand falls from your neck and his lips press to your cheek, “Are you okay?”

You giggle weakly, “I’m.. great..”

He smirks and looks over his shoulder as he hears the door bell rings and knocking on the door, “What the fuck?”

He look down at you, “If you can get dressed, please do, but if not, just stay here.” You slowly sit up, worry settling in, “Okay. I won’t go anywhere.”

Sam leaves, closing the door behind him.

You get up, slipping on the shirt Sam gave you and fixing your panties before walking to the door. You crack it open and hear Sam let out a laugh, “Dude, I don’t know what to tell you. She isn’t here.”

You hear Clayton groan, “I’m serious man, just-“

“No. I’m not selling you anything, y/n isn’t here. Buh bye.”

“Why the fuck did you sell them to her and not me?” Clayton argues and you bite your lip as you wait for Sam’s response.

“Because, I actually wanted to keep seeing her, she’s quite pretty. Maybe I should give her a call now that, I’m guessing you two are done for, huh?”

You hear a loud thud, maybe a lamp being knocked over, and you open the door more. You walk over to the steps and bend down.

You’re able to see Sam holding Clayton up against the wall and he’s inches from his face, “Maybe don’t go kissing your girlfriend’s best friend and you wouldn’t be in this situation, right?”

“How do you know about that?” Clayton asks lowly and Sam smirks, shrugging his shoulders, “Maybe she stopped by on her way home to grab some weed, maybe she didn’t.”

You bite your lip, seeing Sam stick up for you like this, was so fucking hot.

“You fucked her, didn’t you?” Clayton asks with a scoff, “of course.”

Sam rolls his eyes, “Now you’re calling her a slut.. alright.” He moves Clayton towards the door and spins him to look at him, “You ever try to speak or get in contact with y/n again, I’ll make a little phone call to officer Ziebler down at the- um. Shoot, what is it?”

Sam look up at Clayton, “Oh, yeah, the Adult Probation office.”

You cover your lips and Clayton shakes his head, “How do you know about that?”

Sam shrugs, “I have my ways, now, as I said when you got here, buh bye.” He pushes him out and closes the door.

You walk down the steps and Sam turns, stopping with a smirk, “You don’t listen, do you?”

“Actually.” You walk over to him, “I listened to that whole thing so..” you purse your lips, fighting back a smirk, “That’s gotta count for somethin’ right?”

He chuckles, pulling you in for a kiss, “C’mon. I’ll roll us another J.” He wraps your arm around your waist, “Because after that, I need one.”

“Well you know what they say.” You laugh, glancing up at him. He smirks, “And what’s that, babe?”

“A joint.. or three.. a day keeps the bad mood away.”

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I hope this was good, let me know what you think! Thank you for reading! I love you all so much!🖤

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

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