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katiexpunk · 24 days

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Fuck Me, Fill Me

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!Reader | W/C: ~4K | Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Summary: Accidents happen all the time — people fall, knives slip, condoms break. You spent years successfully avoiding one. Except things are different now, you're ready for more. Your husband Joel is more than happy to oblige.

Warnings: Joel has one mission in this one -- knock you the fuck up (if that's not your thing, kindly move on). Heavy on the breeding kink. No age gap is mentioned (make it your own). So much dirty talk. Fingering. Dry humping/grinding. Praise kink. Size kink. Unprotected P in V. Rough sex. Semi-public sex. Sex in front of a mirror. Multiple creampies. No use of Y/N, no use of daddy. TLOU au. Reader has no physical descriptions except hair (no type or color) long enough to hold on to. Let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: I have no excuses for this one except that I have Joel brain rot and baby fever. Shoutout to the Capital One Lounge at IAD for the idea. Written on a plane.

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Accidents happen all the time — people fall, knives slip, condoms break.

It’s inevitable, really. A known fact of life. Call it Murphy’s law, bad luck, or just plain stupidity…

You’ve spent the majority of your teens and 20s successfully avoiding an accident.

If it can happen, it will happen your superstitious aunt used to say, and you were a believer.

Lord knows you've had more than enough evidence in your life to back up her words. From the tummy ache after eating way too many cherries, to the conspicuous brown stain that ruined your pristine white blouse. A blister on your heel from shoes that were supposed to be 'broken in' but never quite were, and the painful crack in your skin that followed. Proof was everywhere, and you learned to expect the unexpected.

You hold tight to that belief, while Joel does the same to your hips, fucking you within an inch of your life in the airport lounge bathroom.

But how you both ended up in this position was no accident.

++++

It never seemed like the right time—you had so much more to explore, achieve, and experience. Becoming a mother would complicate everything; at least, that's what you convinced yourself. You were content to rely on that little orange pill each day, despite its own set of side effects, because it kept your options open.

You weren't sure you'd make a good mom anyway. Your own mother certainly wasn't a shining example, and you had no reason to think you'd be any different. You couldn't even keep a cactus alive—how could you possibly care for a child?

But something changed not long after you and Joel got married. Maybe it was maturity slowly finding its way in, like warm honey filling the spaces you once closed off. It softened you to the idea of chubby cheeks and tiny fingers, gentle coos, and quiet lullabies sung in the deep southern drawl that had become so familiar.

Initially, you weren't sure how Joel would take the news, but when you told him you'd reconsidered, his reaction was beyond anything you'd expected. He was over the moon, filled with an urgency you'd never seen in him before. It was like you'd handed him the key to his deepest desires, and he was eager, almost desperate, to turn it and bring new life into your world, yours and his.

He made it clear just how eager he was when he took you in his arms and twirled you around the kitchen in joy. Then, without missing a beat, he bent you over the counter, yanked down your jeans, and made his intentions unmistakably clear. He fucked his cum so deep inside of you that night that you felt the warm dribble of him the next morning.

++++

Good things come to those who wait.

The words seem almost lifeless as they peer back at you, the paper they're printed on showing signs of age and Scotch tape keeping it glued to the break room wall above the microwave. The optimism they once held has faded, leaving behind nothing but cynicism and wear.

Yeah. Right.

The shrill beep of the microwave snaps you back to the present, your shoulders tensing. You shake off your irritation, clutching the warm coffee that’s been reheated three times, its heat barely reaching the chill of your underlying pessimism. It’s a small comfort, but enough to soften the ache of disappointment that nags at you every month when hope fizzles out.

Back at your desk, you bury yourself in work, flipping through emails and juggling various applications. Headphones in, you’re almost lost in your own world when a notification on your phone pulls you back. It's your cycle tracking app, reminding you that you're due to ovulate in a couple of days. But wait—

No, no, no. You quickly count the days in your head, then scramble to open your work calendar. The schedule's a blur until your eyes land on the words "Work Trip: Jackson, Wyoming." They jump off the screen, almost mocking you. Looks like timing won't be on your side this month. Unless —

Would it be too ridiculous to change an entire work trip just so you could make love to your ridiculously hot husband, and let him fill you again and again? You think not, but you know your boss might say otherwise.

You spend the rest of your workday figuring out Plan B. The irony is not lost on you that you’re seeking out an entirely different kind than you used to.

++++

As you settle into the couch, your legs draped across his lap, he begins to massage the soles of your feet in that soothing way that sends a ripple of warmth up your spine. You can't help but glance at his side profile—the elegant slope of his nose, the chiseled cut of his jaw, and the effortless curls of his salt-and-pepper hair that rest at the nape of his neck. He's undeniably handsome, a sight that never gets old.

His touch spreads a slow heat across your skin, your stomach fluttering in response. It's always been this way—the world could be crumbling outside, but with Joel, in your shared cocoon, you feel entirely at ease, wrapped in safety and affection.

“You're really gorgeous, you know,” you murmur, almost too quietly to be heard. You swirl the wine in your glass and meet his gaze as you take a sip.

“Nah, that's you, sweetheart,” he replies with a wink, his touch transitioning to featherlight kitten caresses as his fingers trace a path up your shin. He's not trying to seduce you, not really, but his touch and the intent gaze he holds on you are enough to ignite a slow burn under your skin.

You relax into the cushions, your head sinking back into the pillow, reveling in this moment. When he pauses, even for a second, you squirm, and he chuckles softly. “Such a needy little thing, aren't cha?” he teases, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he resumes his gentle strokes. “Mhm, sure am,” you hum, your eyes closing as you melt into the sensation of his skin on yours.

He slowly journeys upward, callused palms gliding along the smooth skin of your thigh, alternating between soft strokes and firm squeezes. Each touch seems to awaken a deeper need within you, and you're all too aware of the growing bulge beneath your calves, a silent but potent reminder of the desire simmering between you. It's enough to make you ache for him, crave his closeness, the kind of closeness only he can provide.

You lift your head, and he's already adjusting, his broad frame looming over you. He locks eyes with you as he takes the wineglass from your hand, placing it on the coffee table with care, then shifts his full attention back to you. You push your hips upward, meeting his, and he presses down just enough to make it clear that he’s in control, his body holding you firmly but without discomfort. You know he’s got you right where he wants you.

Your eyes meet his, and the intensity in his gaze leaves no doubt—this is happening. He props himself up on one forearm, his other hand tangling through your hair, his knuckles brushing against your cheek with a tender touch. He thrusts his hips into you with more urgency, his lips descending to capture yours, drawing out a soft moan from deep within you.

“Fuck sweetheart, feel what you do to me?” he groans, pressing his lips harder against yours. He tastes the wine on you, and your tongues intertwine, each movement slow but deliberate. You work your arms free from your sides and slide your hands into his hair, tugging gently, your nails grazing his scalp. The deep groan that escapes him tells you he's feeling everything—the pull, the scrape, the heat. It rumbles from his chest, reverberating through you, and it's intoxicating.

With your lips pressed firmly to his, he captures your bottom lip between his teeth, giving it a teasing bite as he thrusts against you. The rough denim scrapes against your inner thighs, and he slots himself perfectly between your legs. His mouth leaves yours, tracing a path of soft kisses down your jawline, lingering at that sensitive spot just behind your ear before he pulls the lobe into his mouth. You moan, fingers tangled in his hair, while your other hand explores the broad expanse of his back, craving the feel of him, unable to get enough.

“Joel,” you whimper, his name almost a question on your lips.

He doesn't pause, thrusting with just the right pressure, almost ignoring your plea. You move your lips to his shoulder and whisper, “I’m ovulating.”

That makes him stop. He props himself up on one forearm, his free hand on your ribs, his intense gaze locking onto yours. His eyes darken, pupils eclipsing the rich brown you know so well, and he groans deeply. Fuck.

“Yeah, sweetheart? Mmm, big mistake telling me that, now I’m just going to pump you full of my cum all night, gonna fuck you again and again, keep you so full of me that it’ll have no choice but to stick this time.”

You whimper at the thought, and his words go straight to your already wet core, your pussy fluttering around nothing, practically begging to be filled.

You want him so bad, but right now, he wants you more — wants every part of you, wants to change you forever. His head dips back to your neck, and he's practically grinding into you, the pressure so intense it feels like he's already fucking you through your clothes. His beard rasps against your cheek, leaving a trail of red marks as he works his way down to your chest, hastily undoing buttons, uncovering your breasts, and teasing your nipples to hard, eager peaks.

It would almost be embarrassing how turned on you are right now if it were anyone but him, how easily he can fluster you, turn you into a babbling mess.

“Well, not right now, but I am next —” you start to say, but quickly lose your train of thought as his whole hand comes down to cup your sex and the feel of his palm pressing against your dripping center.

“Sorry darlin’, what was that?” He asks, doing little to hide the smug tone behind his voice, obviously pleased with the effect he has on you.

“I am next week, while I’m supposed to be in Jackson for work,” you manage to get out, the words coming out soft, a barely there thought, your attention mostly on the sensation of his thick finger that has now curled its way deep inside of you, your panties pushed to the side as they should never have been there in the first place, not with him in the room.

“Come with me,” you ask, your words a tad breathless as he adds another finger to your dripping center, your slick coating them completely, and when he doesn’t answer, you’re not sure he heard you behind the haze of his arousal, the blood thrumming through his veins. Not that you can blame him, it’s so hard to fucking think, to breathe, to string together a rational thought that isn’t dirty when you’re together like this.

“Gotta feel this pussy first,” he rasps, the words slightly muffled against the tenderness of your breast. His words sober you for a brief second, as you playfully push against him in protest.

"That's not what I meant, and you know it," you laugh, and he can't suppress the goofy grin spreading across his face. He loves this—the playful banter, the way you bring out his lighter side, the perfect blend of passion and humor that flows between you. It's always been like this, effortlessly flirty, endlessly fun. You’re the perfect combination of sexy and cute, and better yet, you’re all his.

“Alright baby, I’ll come with you, on one condition,” he says, adding a third finger, and the stench of him is intoxicatingly delicious, perfect, and intense in the best way. You already feel so fucked out, you’re not sure how he’s managing to find the will to set fucking conditions right now, but still, you humor him —

“Conditions, huh?” You moan as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you, the pads of his fingers grazing at the soft spongey spot inside of you that makes you see stars.

“Yeah, sweetheart, conditions,” he says, nipping at your chin. “You’re gonna be the good girl I know you are and come all over my fingers, and then I’ll make sure that you’re full of me all week, whenever you want it baby, I’m all yours,” he rasps, his breath coming a bit more ragged now at the thought of your proposition and his.

His fingers are still deep inside of you, he positions his wrist just right and brings the pad of his thumb to your clit. Your slick, combined with his filthy fucking mouth, and his thick cock pressed against you, creates the perfect conditions for the inevitable. He’s never not made you come, and you sure as hell know he’s not about to change that narrative now.

If it can happen, it will happen.

“Come on pretty girl, show me how pretty you come on your husband’s fingers,” he says, not really asking, but rather ordering in the tone that lights every nerve in your body on fire with arousal.

The warmth in your lower belly spreads outward, wrapping you in a blanket of pleasure. Your limbs tingle, your vision blurs, and your toes curl as the intensity builds. For a split second, everything goes hazy, and you let go, surrendering to him completely. He takes control, guiding you through the waves of ecstasy, pulling you into a bliss that only he knows how to reach.

“So good for me, sweetheart. You are so perfect.”

He makes you come once more soon after and then fucks you deep and slow. It’s all whispered praises in your ear, a firm grip on your hips, and his cock barely leaving your cunt before he’s slamming back into you, desperate to keep the tip of him as close to your cervix as possible.

Come with me, you moan, and he knows exactly what you mean this time.

“Shit, baby, I can feel you squeezing me, taking me so good —” his words break with a moan as you come for the third time, falling apart on his cock, before he adds “gripping me so goddamn tight.”

His thrusts slow and he buries himself to the hilt inside of you, and paints your insides in thick ropes of cum, holding your gaze as he throbs inside, not daring to move and risk any of his spend coming out before he wants it to.

He plants a soft kiss on your lips and tells you that you’re going to look even more gorgeous with his baby inside of you.

++++

The delayed flight to Jackson was just another reminder of life's unpredictability.

What started as a simple 30-minute delay quickly turned into an hour, then two, and now you're both three hours past your original departure time.

You find yourselves in one of the newer airport lounges, sitting in overly posh chairs. It's surprisingly uncrowded given the chaos that usually comes with airport delays. Your luggage is safely tucked away in the lockers, your bellies are full from the free snacks, and the irritation from earlier is fading thanks to the complimentary drinks. The ambiance is unexpectedly chic. Even the bathrooms feel upscale—private, enormous mirrors, fancy soap, and paper towels so luxurious they might as well be hand towels.

Joel is deep into a well-worn Western novel, its cover frayed and spine cracked from countless readings. You're scrolling through an article about the best positions for conceiving, smirking when you realize you and Joel have tried most of them, and then some. Just as you're in the middle of your read, your cycle tracking app sends a notification—you're at peak fertility, starting now. Have fun! ;)

Shit.

Who knows when you'll actually make it to your hotel room in Jackson tonight? You glance up from your phone, stealing a look at Joel. He's always handsome, but there's something about him in his glasses—the way the frames sit on the bridge of his nose, the slight furrow in his brow as he focuses on the words in his book. It's endearing how he still reads with such intensity, even though you know he's revisited these same pages countless times.

Your pussy flutters and aches at the sight, giving you a cheeky idea. He did say you could have him whenever you wanted.

You clear your throat, hoping to pull Joel's focus from his book, but he doesn't seem to notice. You try again, this time a bit louder, and all you get is a distracted, "You okay, sweetheart?" without him even glancing up.

You know you’ll need to be more direct to capture his attention.

"I'm going to use the restroom," you say, and he nods, eyes still on the page. Once inside, you leave the door unlocked and hike up your dress, exposing your bare breasts. You pinch your nipples between your thumb and forefinger until they harden, then push out your chest, angling your smartphone for the perfect shot. The result is a provocative selfie that you know will make him put that book down.

You attach it to a message for Joel and quickly type out your request — come knock me up in the bathroom, Cowboy.

He’s joining you in the bathroom faster than you thought he would, careful to avoid any curious eyes or draw attention to the fact that he’s about to absolutely wreck his wife.

Once inside, he locks the door behind him and grabs your waist, guiding you back until your hips hit the counter's edge. His hands roam over your body, lifting the hem of your dress until it's bunched around your waist. He kisses you with a desperate hunger, as if he hasn't had you in years.

"You sure you want to do this here, sweetheart?" he groans against your lips, shifting between playful nips, gentle kisses on your cheeks, and heated sucks at your jawline. The anticipation in his touch is palpable, but he's still checking to make sure this is what you want.

“Never been more sure of anything in my life except for the day I married you. Please fuck me, Joel, need to feel you stretch me out” you say, your words crossed between a whimper and a plea.

God, just when he thought you couldn’t get any more perfect.

“Yeah? My girl wants me to fill up her tight little hole,” he teases, already knowing the answer. He moves his hand to your dripping core and lets out a deep groan when he discovers you’ve already removed the barrier of your underwear for him.

“Fuck baby, I’d do anything to taste you right now, wanna hear all those pretty noises you make and the way my name sounds when you moan it for me,” and you soften more under the heat of his words, letting your mind drift to thoughts of how good it feels when his head is between your legs, gently wringing orgasm after orgasm out of you like it’s his fucking job.

“Gotta make this one quick, though. Can you be quiet for me, sweetheart?” He asks, and all you can do is nod.

"Good girl—c'mere, turn around," he instructs, guiding you with his hands until you've spun around, your hips pressing into the sink. His hand travels down your spine, making you arch toward him slightly, and he bends you over even more. In the mirror, you see him behind you, his eyes locked on yours as he quickly unbuckles his belt and lowers his jeans to mid-thigh. The anticipation is electric as you watch him in the reflection, knowing exactly what's coming next.

He spits into his hand and jerks himself, all the while holding your gaze, admiring the way your breasts are pressed up against the counter, perky and perfect. His cock twitches at the thought of what they’ll look like all swollen and full of milk.

He lines himself up against your wet and waiting hole, holds your hips steady with one hand, and gathers your hair in his fist with the other. He gently tugs it so your chin is angled up, eyes even straighter looking into the mirror. He loves watching you take it.

“You’re gonna watch as I fuck you, sweetheart,” He rasps as he presses himself into you in one stroke. You’re so fucking wet, your greedy cunt accepts him easily, despite his size. Like it knows what it wants, and what it needs. There’s a dull delicious sting at the intrusion.

“Oh my god, Joel, you’re so bi—” You break off in a moan as he pulls out and then slams himself into you deep and hard.

“God damn, look at you, my perfect fucking girl. Taking me so well, like this cock was made for you, huh baby?” His voice is firm, but quiet, just above a whisper. He’s not wasting time, he sets a punishing pace, and all you can do is let him use you.

“Fuck me, fuck me, fill me, fill me” you cry out, and he brings his hand to cover your mouth.

“What’d I say about being quiet, baby?” He holds you like that. You slip your hand between your thighs and rub your clit, a dangerous combination when he’s fucking you in this position. You come so fast that you think it might be a record. The tightening of your cunt has him on the precipice of his release.

“You’re fucking mine,” he growls, fucking his cum into you over and over, using every drop of him to give you what you want.

It might not stick this time, hell, it might not stick next time, but one thing is for certain — Joel will keep you full and fucked either way.

Part 2

A/N Continued: Thank you so much for reading! On a side note, my engagement here has been really low lately. :( As much as I'd love to say I don't care about the notes, I won't lie and tell you I don't need them for validation. If you like this, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging. I'll love you forever.

Tagging some moots for visibility (lmk if you want to be removed if the subject matter isn't your thing. No hard feelings!) @endlessthxxghts @syd-djarin @auteurdelabre @morning-star-joy@theoasisofthings @chulopascal @morallyinept @sweetercalypso @xdaddysprincessxx @burntheedges @punkshort @pedrostories @bastardmandennis @milly-louise @ghostwritesthings @josephquinnswhore @drunk-and-capable @survivingandenduring @hotgirlbedtimescenarios @ohheypedrito @joeldjarin @nerdieforpedro @amyispxnk @paleidiot @ghostwritesthings @kulekehe @darkheartgatita @goldenhxurs @javiscigarette @ro-nahime-things @gwendibleywrites @missladym1981 @morgaussy

#joel miller smut #joel miler x fem!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #breeding k1nk #joel miller the last of us #joel miller one shot #pedro pascal character #pedrohub #pedrostories #joel miller #joel miller fanfic

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eddiernunson · 3 months

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Waiting Room Problems | Eddie Munson x fem!Reader | 18+ |

Summary: a rough landing in a fight with your brother causes you to land in a crowded waiting room. Meanwhile a rough deal also sends Eddie the same fate. Somehow, somehow you try to keep your eyes on your phone and off his tiny little waist. It proves... difficult.

Warnings: strangers to lovers, fleeting glances, slightly cocky Eddie, sex in a public bathroom (trust me on this, just trust me), and general horniness at Eddie's general appearance, unprotected piv, against the wall fucking, deep throating, daddy kink

Authors note: I just spent 8 hours last night (when | wrote this) in the fucking waiting room. At two hours in a guy came in and he radiated Eddie's energy so my mind ran away with it. (Everything is ok).

Thanks for the hype on the preview! Hopefully this lives up to the hype

Thanks so much to @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you for editing bestie ❤️

As the night swallows you whole, you sit in your mom’s passenger seat of her car as she drives you to the ER. While roughhousing with your older brother you landed on your hand wrong and bent it way back. It’s definitely not broken, but it for sure needs to be looked at.

As the lights of the night pass you by, you insist you’re fine and the sprain will heal after a few days. Your mom, however, was having none of it as you rolled your eyes in exasperation.

She’s as stubborn as you are, so you sit arms crossed as you know you have no choice. Ouch, ok, crossing your arms was a bad idea.

She wishes you well, her kind eyes wide as she leans over to ask you to keep her updated. You can’t help it, slamming the door after letting her know you will. You should’ve been enjoying some spiked eggnog and watching holiday movies, but now you’re spending Christmas Eve in the ER.

The large window to the waiting room lets you know there’s already a long line up just waiting for the triage and most seats are taken. Fuck, you’re in for a long night.

The kind and sunny nurse takes your vitals and information, gently assessing your symptoms and palpating your wrist carefully. She lets you know it’s definitely sprained and will need a gauze wrap.

Soon, you find yourself sitting in a brown, cracked, leather chair sitting close to a man who is coughing up a lung and groaning in pain after each bout. Not that there are many options to begin with.

Your phone in your hand and your charger in your bag, you sit comfortably and wait for your name to get called as you look at memes and watch videos with one headphone in.

Ninety minutes goes by while your best friend texts you to keep you busy and entertained, not even noticing you’ve been waiting for so long. Thank god for her.

For the first time in a while, you look up to assess the state of the waiting room. As far as you recall, about five people have been called to the back. Those seats have been replaced with new patients and their support, what seems to be a never-ending cycle.

Your eyes flick to someone who walks into the line that is long enough to extend into the hallway, stepping up a place in line and finally into the actual waiting room. Your eyes scan him, the boots, the ripped jeans, the leather jacket covering a graphic tee, all leading up to his shaggy brown hair and gorgeous face.

Your mouth partially opens, momentarily taken aback by how unbelievably hot he is. There doesn’t seem to be anything wrong, at least, until you notice the tear in his shirt peeking at white gauze on his torso. From the stain, it’s clear he was injured.

His face doesn’t reflect such, patiently waiting as the two triage nurses take their time. By the third time he blinks, you realize you’ve been staring and shift your eyes back down to your phone.

As the line moves, his boots in the corner of your eye, you grow increasingly aware of how much you want to continue staring at him. Something about him is just so enticing, drawing you in. Especially his lack of response to a wound as such.

Time passes on and soon you find yourself bored of the videos and turn on your Spotify to the comfort playlist. Your eyes flicker to the triage station, wandering around the room aimlessly. Unfortunately, it lands on the stranger you’ve been lingering on and witnesses him lifting his shirt to show the nurse the reason for his visit.

The black shirt lifts to show a slim waist scattered in black and grey tattoos, lifting the white gauze to reveal a gnarly wound. You can’t tell but from its shape it looks to be a stab wound. However gory his uncovered wound looks; you can’t help but stare at his bare torso.

Then, it fucking happens. His eyes flicker to you, for a fraction of second, he keeps the eye contact. His mouth twitches, leaning into something you’d call a smirk. As a reflex you shift your eyes away from him, cheeks heating up in embarrassment from getting caught.

You spend the next few minutes convincing yourself that it was all in your head, and that for all he knew you were zoned out and happened to be zoned out on him. It feels like a reach, especially with his torso as revealed as it was.

Time itself blurs as you zone out on your phone, attempting to distract yourself from your thumping heart and the arousal that pools into your cotton underwear. A shift in movement catches your eye, blurred and black in your periphery.

Your eyes by reflex glance up, catching a glimpse of him slouching in his chair, a foot resting on the other as knee he uses wired headphones and stares at whatever’s on his phone. Somehow, his confidence at making himself at home is still attractive, drool gathering in your mouth.

You look down at your phone before he catches you again, this visit at the ER sending a thrill through you that you didn’t expect in the least.

More and more people get called to the back, and you're still stuck waiting. Everyone who you’ve told is surprised to say the least that it’s been hours and you’re still just in the waiting room. You don’t mind though, sneaking glances at the beautiful stranger has become your favourite pastime.

Four hours in, if someone asked your highlight it would be when he head-banged to whatever assumingly heavy metal band he listens to. By the time the nurse calls your name to the back, it takes a strong second place.

About twenty minutes pass before it’s your turn for a bed, and you are let your eyes wander around, now bored of your phone. As they do, they catch sight of the man you’ve kept an eye on yawning in a big stretch. What this yawn has you so captivated by is the sliver of skin his stretch reveals, and the curly brown treasure trail that peeks from just above the hem of his low sitting jeans.

Your mouth floods with saliva. With your mouth agape and eyes subtly widened, you can’t help but gawk at him. Something about the way you suddenly picture yourself pulling him into the bathroom to nuzzle into his hair takes you aback just a little bit.

Time slows down for you, stretching into hours, but it's only seconds. Finally, as his body relaxes from the stretch you turn your eyes back to his face, hoping he didn’t see your fleeting glance. Startlingly, his eyes are already on yours. This time you can’t find it in you to look away in embarrassment. As if reading your mind, he smirks right at you, and you swear his brown eyes darken a shade.

This time for sure, he caught you. He doesn’t seem to care one way or the other, arms crossing over his chest as he keeps his smug expression right on you.

It’s hard to resist the smile as you go back to your phone, promising to yourself that you will remember his face for as long as you can.

Eddie thanks Gareth for dropping him off at the hospital, gritting his teeth at the slight pain stretching his torso gives him.

As he wanders into the hospital, his eyes take in the crowded waiting room and he groans, wishing the wound wasn’t so fucking deep.

He got stabbed. He got fucking stabbed. Wayne is going to kill him when he finds out he got into a fight, especially one where knives were in the crossfire. He couldn’t even say how the situation got so heated so quickly, just another fight in a parking lot after a deal goes sour.

The guy pulled a fucking knife on him, pushed it into his torso and ran off with the goods before Eddie could even realize he had been harmed.

All for fucking weed. Wasn’t even cocaine!

It takes a stupid amount of time for him to finally get to the nurse. She tells him to sit down for his vitals, and he refuses, wanting to show the wound and get it out of the way.

He lifts his shirt at her request, showing the darkened gauze and hissing as she takes a closer look at the wound when it’s removed. Eddie realizes the irony of exposing his chest in the triage, looking up to face the windows that allow other patients to see through.

He does a quick scan of the room, no one having seemed to notice how he’s shirtless. No one, but you. He saw you when he walked in, you were on your phone with one earbud in as you tapped your feet to whatever beat you were listening to. He thought you were cute, his mouth twitching in a smile as he notices you’re cradling one arm across your chest.

It couldn’t have been confused with zoning out, your mouth in a small O shape you openly stare at him. The look you have on your face is enough to turn Eddie on a little, having the urge to caress your face as you look up at him with those same wide eyes. His mouth twitches as he thinks of it, the thought enough to distract him from the shooting pain in his chest.

Your eyes dart away as soon as it registers that he’s looking back at you. His smile widens even more as you sink in your seat, your eyes glazing over as you scroll through your phone. Made him want to embarrass you more, in much worse ways.

After the nurse takes his vitals, he’s instructed to sit down, thanking some deity that the seat across from you is freed. You’re keeping yourself distracted, much to his dismay, so kicks his shoe to grab your attention, placing it on his other knee.

It works as well as he hopes, your eyes flickering up to him. He can’t help but look as if he can’t be bothered. In the corner of his eye, you look back to your own phone, biting your lip.

Eddie spends the next little bit getting your attention however he can, wondering how much it takes for your eyes to wander back to him. By trial and error, not much. He turns on a heavy metal band, nodding his head enthusiastically to the loud drum beats.

As time goes on, he gets more bored and waits impatiently for his name to be called. He figured stitches would be a priority, no? It’s past his bedtime, he decides, as he yawns a big stretch, despite the pain he causes for himself.

As he does, he catches the way your eyes are glued to him, particularly the strip of skin his shirt lifts to show. In real time, Eddie witnesses your eyes glaze over and how your teeth nervously graze your bottom lip. Whatever was on your mind, he desperately wanted to know, mesmerized at the way your throat swallows.

Finally, you make eye contact with him, and Eddie needs to let you know how much he just saw, your lust for him clear as day. He can’t lie, the feeling is entirely mutual, the look on your face is something he wants to see over and over as he rails— he’s getting ahead of himself.

Instead, he opts for a smirk, admiring the way your pretty eyes hold his gaze this time. He relaxes back into his chair, daring you to say something as he smiles with a hint of satisfaction…and all the cockiness his body can handle.

You shyly look back at your phone, failing to hide the smile that invades your face. It takes Eddie a moment to gain the courage, but he finally decides he can’t let you go if he's nursing a hard on in the fucking waiting room from your gaze alone.

By the time he finds a pen and paper to give your number, he’s writing it down when the nurse calls your name.

Eddie sighs, watching your ass in those jeans as you walk away. Just his luck.

As the new year passes, the memory of the hot stranger in the waiting room fades, much to your dismay.

The very night you had a dream where he meets you in some sort of dark room, tugging down your jeans you were wearing and wrapping those hands around your neck as he fucked you from behind.

Your hyperventilating mixed with the way your cunt spasmed as you came woke you up, taking a minute to catch your breath. That morning you groaned in frustration, wanting nothing more but to track him down.

Days passed and soon you’re in the grocery store, arm still wrapped for another week as you walk around the store for some basics. Milk, eggs, bread, all on your mother’s tab, of course. You were two seconds away from pushing your small cart to the checkout counter when you remember you're out of mouthwash.

As you try to decide whether to grab the one you liked which was not on sale or the one that was, a set of footsteps pass and settle right next to you, the customer also assessing mouth hygiene products.

The person's foot tapped, and by reflex you switch your glance down to the sound, and immediately recognize the boots. Your head moves up so fast you swear you give yourself whiplash to his face, facing the shaggy locks you found yourself obsessed with that night in the ER.

“Oh shit” you say out loud, before you could even stop it.

His eyes flicker to yours and recognize you off the bat. His smile gives way to deep dimples. He’s exactly as hot as you remember, if not more.

Of course, you can’t find it in yourself to assume he recognizes you, even if his eyes spell it out for you. “Sorry, I-I just remember you from the ER last month. How’s that stab wound?”

He chuckles, something that makes your legs clench together. “Uh, it’s better.” He comments, lifting his shirt to demonstrate. Is it unnecessary for Eddie to show his stitches? Absolutely. Did he do it for the visual reaction he missed so much? Also, yes.

Unfortunately, his bare waist is gone as soon as it appears, barely giving you a second to take in the purple stitches. You bite your lip as you glance at his face, his smirk displayed almost driving a whimper out of you.

“How’s your arm?”

“What?” You ask, incredibly distracted by the everything about him.

He chuckles pointing to the wrapped arm you can’t use as you shopped but to push the cart. “Oh, one more week then I’m free.” You comment, indicating the gauze.

“That’s good.” He comments, switching his glance back to the toothbrushes he was glancing at earlier.

How are you already messing this up? Might as well cut your losses. “Alright, nice seeing you, again.”

“Whoa, whoa.” He says, grabbing at your uninjured arm before you make your hasty exit. Your eyes peer at him curiously, wondering what he could’ve possibly wanted. “Here,”

His hands move to the leather jacket and grab a folded piece of paper to hand out to you. “What’s that?”

“My number” he answers, stating the obvious. “Shoot me a text, call me, I don’t care. Just do it. Please.”

“You’re really giving your number on a piece of paper?” You ask, tilting your head and forgetting your nervousness for two seconds. “What is this, 1986?”

He laughs, deep and whole, and for some reason it causes a heart palpitation. “Yeah, I guess I am. I planned on giving it to you at the ER, but the nurse whisked you away before I could.”

“Huh?” You ask, your brain short circuiting.

He laughs again as you accept the number, your hands holding onto it tightly as if it might disappear. He picks a toothbrush, seemingly at random and examines it, shrugging as he tosses it into his basket. “Call me,” he says, winking, and walks away from where he came from.

As he walks away, his cologne invades your senses, breath stuttering as you breathe him in. Oh, you are definitely calling him.

As soon as you’re checked out, you find yourself having to use the bathroom, so you wander to the back of the store and down the hall where the single unisex bathroom is.

It’s locked, so you check your phone as you wait, leg shaking to distract yourself from the need. When the bathroom door opens, you look up to face the patron and your brain deflates.

“Holy shit.” You gasp, facing the kind stranger, whose name you learned is Eddie from the number he gave you. You stare at one another, taking each other in, your breath heavy and your heartbeat in your ears. Why were you here, again?

Instantaneously, his hands are grabbing at the fabric of your winter jacket, tugging you forward as he places his lips on yours. Your bags drop from your hands as you gasp in surprise, your brain taking a moment to catch up.

As soon as it does, you grab onto his jacket and kiss him back, meeting his enthusiasm feverishly. His tongue darts out to meet yours, you accept it wholeheartedly, taking in how weak his lips alone make you feel.

Eddie starts to pull you backwards and into the bathroom. As soon as the door is closed, you’re pushed up against the wall, whimpering as he moves his body against you. “Fuck.” He whispers against your lips, taking a moment to catch his breath.

You hum in response, lips reaching for him again. As you do, your hands sneak past his jacket and onto his t-shirt, clutching at the fabric as you finally feel up his torso.

“Nuh uh.” He tsks, pulling back from you. When you pout, he laughs and gives you a look of pity. “I just gotta know one thing, there, sweetheart.”

“Anything.” You promise, not knowing what you’re getting into. You just wanted his lips back on yours.

“Anything, huh?” He asks, slightly taunting you. “Okay.” He leans down, breathing down your neck as he places his lips by your ear. “What were you thinking about in that waiting room while you ogled me, sweetheart?”

Okay, not that. You sigh in embarrassment, learning he knew exactly what you were thinking while you gawked at his chest, gawked at him.

“Don’t act all embarrassed, now.” He chides, observing how your eyes widen just how he remembered. “Tell me. Tell me and we’ll do every raunchy little thing that pretty brain came up with.” He taps the tip of your nose gently with the pad of his finger. You wish he'd shove it past your lips.

Your eyes widen as the arousal floods the panties you wear. All you can do is breathe hard and attempt to find the words.

“Let me help you.” He says, shifting his weight against you slightly. “Was it my hands down those tight ass jeans you were wearing?” You gasp as his fingers barely graze your jeans’ waistband. “Or even better was my tongue on that wet cunt of yours?” You shake your head no, as much as you wanted both of those things. You didn’t even get that far. “Were you on your pretty knees?” Finally, you nod, confirming exactly what you were thinking about.

“Your cock was down my throat while I nuzzled your…” you trail off, lifting his shirt to see the patch of hair again, “oh my god.”

He chuckles, rewarding you with a wet and dirty kiss. All too soon, he pulls away. “Then what, baby?”

Your mind is dumb, trying to come up with it. “Then…then you bent me over and fucked me—” you whine as his knee bucks up between your legs and makes harsh contact with your cunt, “with your hand around my throat.”

“Jesus Christ,” he swears, teeth gritted as he gives you a look at screams with lust. “Believe me, if you asked, I would’ve.”

“Yeah?” You ask, licking your lips as your head leans back into the door. “What about your cut?”

“To hell with my cut! I had a pretty girl practically giving me the eyes, you think I care about some little scratch?”

You stare at him in disbelief, your body and breaths stilling for a minute. “Then do it.”

Eddie smirks at you, and you stare at his pretty pink lips as he leans in and kisses you, both impossibly dirty and sweet simultaneously. Eddie’s knee contacts your cunt again, this time forcing a moan out your lips. Blindly you move your hand down his chest, finally gripping the hard-on straining against the fabric of his jeans.

He gives you his first moan, a sound that opens the floodgates. “Wanna get on those knees for me, baby?”

You nod, giving one last kiss to the spot where his jaw meets his neck. Slowly, you kiss your way down his body where finally you find yourself face to face with the cock that’s pushing its way out of his pants. You fumble with the button for a second before you finally reveal him, and it’s so much better than you could’ve imagined.

So much bigger, too.

You smile up at him through your eyelashes, grateful for fates allowing you in the same place at the same time. He places his hand under your chin, licking his lips as he examines your expression of desire. “Suck my cock, baby.”

You eye his treasure trail, dipping your nose into it as you inhale his musk, uninjured hand wrapping around his thick girth. You mewl at the scent; the aroma is even better than you had imagined. One of his large hands slides itself gently along your cheek, his long thumb stroking at the apple of your sweet smile. You stare up at him, kissing the underside of the head of his cock with wet lips. Your tongue pokes out, flat as you lick it slowly, taking your sweet time, admiring the way he lets out whimpers.

“Oh…shit.”

This urges you to wrap your lips around the head, your cheeks hollowing out as you suck on it gently. You take your lips off him, spitting the excess saliva in your mouth onto his shaft, your hand slowly moves up and down, jerking his length to spread the slick along his cock. The shine is pretty, the spit accentuating the pink blush.

“Pretty cock,” you compliment him, laughing breathily as you go cross-eyed just staring at it. “Tastes better than I thought it would.”

“Did you think about tasting my cock, sweet girl?”

You wrap your lips around him again, bobbing your head up and down as you confirm what he asked with a simple hum. He’s big, the tip hitting the back of your mouth and that wasn’t even half of it. You choke on him, the guttural sounds echoing loudly against the tiled walls. A want of more of him in your mouth invades your mind, not tasting nearly enough of him.

You attempt to take in more of him, choking on it even more but struggling to, despite the desperate need. “Settle down, sweet girl,” he mutters, harshly brushing his fingers against your cheek as he peers down at you. “Relax your throat. Take all those tense muscles and relax ‘em.” You think about it, letting those reflexes remain tense to rest. You’re holding back more saliva, but you fail to realize it until your mouth is flooded with spit, overflowing past the barrier of your lips. “Oh, good girl.”

It's alien but mind numbingly arousing as you feel him move down your throat, moaning around him. His fingers comb through your hair, and roughly move against your scalp. “That’s it, breathe through your nose, sweets.”

The heel of his palms rest on your forehead, moving you up and down his cock. You find it stupidly easy to submit to him, the tip hitting roughly against the back of your throat. His groans are louder than the guck, guck, guck that are hitting wall to wall against the tiles. He’s brutal about it, increasing his speed from 0 to 100 quick as a thought.

Hot tears spill over your water line down your cheeks, trailing the makeup you wear down to your throat. Your hands weave themselves against the cotton of his t-shirt, fighting to keep letting him fuck your throat. “You’re so damn good at this, sweetheart, pretty little mouth working so well.”

He finally lets go, poking his cock against the inside of your cheek one last time, appreciating the swell as the glistening from your tears shine on your face. He uses his thumb to lift your chin up to him, his darkened eyes raking over your face. His pink lips parted, his dilated pupils, the heaving of his chest, there’s nothing you’d want more than to earn this gaze again. “C’mere.”

He lifts you by your chin up to kiss you, dirtily lacing his tongue against yours. “What a good girl you are, taking it so well.” A smile lights up your face from his praise. He tugs you back in for another one, a hum vibrating against his lips. A hand of his trails down your body, single handedly unbuttoning your jeans. “Good work like that deserves a reward, hmm?”

His large hand moves past the opened fly and works itself against your panties. A gasp escapes your mouth only at the touch of his fingers on your covered folds, mewling as he keeps his eyes trained on yours. He’s not even really moving them against you, but just his touch gives you some of the pressure you needed. “Christ, you’re wet,” he comments, dipping his head to work his tongue against your pulse. “Choking on my cock really got you off, huh?”

You nod, eagerly agreeing with him. “So big.”

He smirks, pressing pressure on your clothed folds, in small circles. “You like my big cock, huh? Is it as big as you thought it would be?”

“Bigger,” you gasp, hands grabbing on any clothes he wears anxiously.

His finger easily moves the fabric aside, finger attaching itself right to your clit. The pleasure is good, eyes fluttering closed as it grows startlingly fast. “Fuck,” you swear, your voice rough. “Eddie.”

“Hmm, close?” You nod, despite the embarrassment that floods your senses. “I haven’t even started to touch you yet, baby. I still wanted to feel that tight pussy wrapped around my fingers.”

His actions mimic his words, inserting two fingers hastily into you, moving them expertly as they fuck you. With how wet you are, his two digits slide in easily. They’re long, reaching a depth in you that you could only dream about. You gush around him, music to his ears as your whimpers grow more and more pathetic. His thumb touches your clit again, rubbing frantically.

You gasp, mewling as his teeth start to nibble skillfully along the length of your neck. “Oh my god.”

Eddie’s tongue licks a sinfully long stripe up your neck to your ear, his voice intense and husky. “Cum all over my fingers, sweetheart, make a fucking mess for me.” Your hand tangles into his hair, gripping at his root. You stutter through a sentence of whines and half-finished words, failing to convey how good his fucking fingers make you feel. “So pathetic, huh?”

The words that you wanted to say were, you make me feel so good. Instead, you say, “M-ak-m, so-so good.”

Your good arm wraps itself around his shoulders, pulling his body against yours. Against your better judgment, your other hand moves his chin so your lips kiss his desperately, wanting every wet touch of them on yours. Your whimper into his mouth, pussy fluttering around his fingers as you finally cum, drenching his fingers just as he had requested.

“There she is,” he mutters, his flat palm moving under your jacket and shirt and grazing gently along your bare torso.

It takes you a second to recover from it, still feeling the effects of it throughout your body as it lingers. You unzip your jacket, letting it fall on the bathroom floor. You can’t find it in yourself to care for the moment, but it will find itself in the wash later. As it’s a walk-in bathroom, there are poles next and adjacent to the toilet. Perfect.

“Fuck me?” You ask, eyes glazed over as they reach his.

He chuckles, hands landing on your hips. Your jeans are pushed down your legs, resting just below your knees. “I thought you'd never ask, sweets.”

You grin, pushing his jacket off his shoulders onto the floor. Before it even hits the floor, you grab onto the fabric of his shirt and step backward over your own jacket to pull him across the room to the said metal bar installed on the wall.

His fingers slink into his pocket that’s now down his leg, holding a condom between you and him. You pick it up from his fingers and fling it across the room. “I’m on birth control.”

Eddie’s hands grab under your legs when your back hits the wall, supporting you surprisingly well as your ass rests on his forearms.

He sighs, eyes half mooned as he stares down at you. “My arms are occupied, mind helping me out here?”

You giggle, spitting on your hand and grabbing between the two of you at the cock that keeps brushing against your inner thigh, moving it against your entrance. It slides in easily, the mushroom tip pushing in as two of you moan in sync. Your hand moves to the bar on the wall, starting to help him as you lean some of your weight onto it.

“How is your pussy even better than I thought it’d be?” Eddie asks, gasping in uneven breaths.

“So, so full,” you gasp back, his size far bigger than you’ve ever had. “So big.”

“You’re fucking tight, sweets.” He mutters, jaw dropping as he watches you watching him.

“Move.” You urge him, the stretch too much yet his still hips are driving you crazy. “Need you to move,” It comes out as a pathetic whine and you know it, but you’re long past caring at this point.

“Say no more,” Eddie mutters, starting to move slowly, his hips rolling perfectly against you.

He hits deep and he hits hard. “Just like that! Fuck!”

“Your pussy, fuck, baby, yours is just a new fucking standard!”

You curl into his neck, nipping and starting to mark the pale skin with purple, teeth digging in harder the faster and harder he fucks. You can’t answer his compliment, but the way you tighten around him is confirmation enough that you are in complete agreement with him. It’s like he knows exactly how you like it before you tell him, intuitively knowing you before even has the opportunity to find out.

He watches every reaction you give him carefully, how your legs tighten around his waist, your hands twisting themselves in his shirt, the mewls that leave your mouth mixed with words that you never finish, he takes every hint as gospel. He’s always intuitive to what a partner of his needs, but you’re a special case, every reaction you give him only makes him insatiable for more. The way your eyes roll back in your head is everything he’s ever wanted to see from you and more, never could he have imagined anything like this when you glanced at him in the E.R.

“Fuck, your pussy is so good, I’m gonna cum, sweets,” Eddie moans, fingers digging into your bare thigh, the pressure surely bruising the skin.

“Choke me.” You gasp, voice desperate for him.

“Hands are occupied, babe.” He answers, gruff and brows furrowed.

You tap the bar, using both hands now. “I got it.”

He whines, high-pitched and gorgeous. The kind of whine you listen to on men whimpering audios. Maybe you can make it happen more. Maybe one day he’ll let you worship him for a few hours…the idea is enticing. His large hand wraps itself around your throat, the metal of his rings causing harsh friction on your neck. He admires the way you revel in it, tongue poking out of your mouth like the slut you are for him. “You’re more of a slut than I thought you are, hmm?”

You nod, his strong arm flexed and mouth watering. The drool that slips down your tongue is pure proof of it, dampening your shirt in a little streak.

“What a good little pathetic slut,” he grins, rubbing your jawline with his thumb. His grip tightens, only enough to send stars in your vision.

You tap his arm, begging him for air. “A slut for you.” You gasp, whining for him. “Want your cum, please, please cum in me.”

“Can you beg for me one more time?” He asks, your question almost making him erupt on the spot.

“Please, please, please,” you beg, arms starting to lose their strength. “I wanna be dripping from you, so bad.”

“Yeah, want Daddy’s cum?” he asks, hands gripping into your hair.

Of course, this man has a daddy kink, you couldn’t expect anything less from him. “Yes, Daddy.” You whine, grinning at his hold on you. “Fill me up.”

“Baby, Daddy’s gonna fill you up—Jesus Christ.” He interrupts himself, cutting himself off as he ruts into you a final, gasping, sweaty time. He twitches in you, feeling him fill you up as some of starts to trickle out of your pussy and down your thigh.

His hand lets go of your hair, wrapping around your torso as he pulls you into an embrace. This is the kind of sex that takes time to recover from, both out of breath, his dick still twitching. A smile takes over your features, invading every muscle in your face.

“So, think you’re gonna call me?” He asks, hand moving itself under your shirt to gently brush against your bare skin.

“I’ll definitely text you.” You answer, chuckling at the annoyed look he shoots you when he pulls back in your embrace. “Oh, come on.”

He chuckles, and for some odd reason the last thing you expect from him is another kiss, his lips working marvelously against yours. They’re much gentler, much sweeter than you expected, yet everything you’d crave from him.

“What was that?” You ask, watching his two gorgeous brown eyes.

“What, you think I’m gonna let you go after that?” He asks, half a smile on his face. “Wanna come to my place later?”

“Later?” You ask, one eyebrow quirked at him.

“I’m heading home right now, wanna join me?” He kisses the top of your eyebrow, your cheekbone, your jawline, your still covered shoulder. “I kind of need to spend a few hours with my nose buried in that pretty little cunt of yours.”

Your jaw drops, your mouth drying completely from his admission. “Y-yeah, th-that sounds nice.”

He laughs at your stutter; your pussy having tightened around him upon the mention of it.

Three knocks hit the door, loud and abrupt. “Hurry the fuck up!”

You look at one another with wide eyes, laughing at the disruption. He backs up, his cock leaving your entrance being a loss you whimper at. “Don’t worry, sweets. I will fuck you more than enough times to satisfy that need.”

“Dunno,” you start, legs shaky as you land on them, “I think I’m pretty insatiable at this point.”

“Then we’ll just have to keep going, won’t we?” Eddie asks, pulling his jeans and boxers up his legs.

“And if I’m never satisfied?” you ask, tilting your head as you pull up your own pants.

“Well then I guess we’ll just never stop.”

You grin at his answer, biting your lip excitedly.

The silence is comfortable as you pick your jackets back up and the bags on the ground. His fingers intertwined with yours, leading you down the hall past the angry customer and out the front door of the store.

He offers to eventually take you back to your car when you need to go back home, wanting more time with you even if it’s the mere ten minutes that it takes to get to his apartment.

Not one moment is wasted as he yanks you to his bedroom, pushing you onto his bed. As promised, your jeans are yanked down your legs quick as can be, burying his nose deep in your cunt.

Only after the eighth orgasm does Eddie yank off your clothes, followed by his, finally skin against skin as he rails you in every position, even the ones you didn’t know were possible.

You might have to thank your brother for spraining your wrist, it’s the best thing he’s ever done for you.

Thanks for reading! I read every comment and tag you leave and as always reblogging is the best way to support fic writers on tumblr

taglist: @pinkcowracing @yourthebrokengirl @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovley @josephquinnschesthair @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you @names-were-taken @oddussy420

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#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader smut

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futureman · 9 months

Note

hi idk if u remember me but i literally love u okay anyways

so literally just dbf!joel saying “sweetheart i need you to be quiet” and ”baby i’m gonna cum if you don’t shut up” and maybe covering her mouth at some point 🤭

have a wonderful day and thank u sm for ur time 🙏🏾

hii love, ofc i remember you! tysm for sending this in ♡ accidentally got inspired by my dinner last night, oops. hope you enjoy!!

does your mother know?

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

warnings: 18+ MDNI, no outbreak, close family friend!joel, language, smut, rough sex, unprotected piv, age gap, mild exhibitionism, old man joel can't keep it in his pants at family dinner

word count: 1.7k

Friday night dinner wasn’t supposed to go like this.

One hand buried in your hair and the other slapped over your mouth, muffling every moan and sigh you make while Joel fucks you against the sink in the upstairs bathroom of your family home.

He'd arrived late with a charming, drawled apology and immediately made the mistake of taking the seat across from you. If he'd sat literally anywhere else, he might've been able to ignore the perfect curve of your tits in the lowest-cut shirt he'd ever seen you in, or your constant need for the salt and pepper shakers, conveniently placed right in front of his plate.

Every time you leaned over the table, he was reminded of the fact that you’d decided to forgo a bra. Whether that was for his benefit or yours, he was doing his best not to find out.

Not after your parents had taken the time to invite him here, insisting that he eat a home-cooked meal for once, knowing full well he's been surviving off TV dinners ever since Sarah left for college.

“That’s kinda rude of me, huh?” you smiled sheepishly after giving him a particularly revealing peek, but the look that followed was downright sinful. "My bad, I just didn’t wanna keep interrupting your dinner by asking you to pass the salt. Figured it’s been a while since the last time you ate."

And you were right. It had been a while since he’d tasted anything as sweet as you, that satisfied him the way you do, but you already knew that. It’s why you were baiting him—because you know he can’t resist you.

Still, he tried. He really did, but the Southern gentleman in him couldn't refuse dessert or the hefty glass of wine your mom poured after he'd finished helping her clear the table. So, when he'd found himself trapped between your familiar warmth and the armrest of the couch, he should've known there'd be trouble.

When you'd casually gestured a little too widely during the story you were telling and splattered half the glass across his flannel and jeans, he should've gone to the bathroom to treat the stains alone instead of accepting your apologetic offer to help.

He should’ve known better.

But the second your doe eyes lock with his, roving over his body like the lovely dinner your mom made wasn’t nearly enough to fill you up, he realizes he does know better. He just doesn't give a shit.

And that's why you're bent over the sink, taking his cock like you were made for it, and making the sweetest sounds he’s ever heard. You either don’t care enough to stop, regardless of whether your parents can hear you or not, or you’re too blissed out to notice. But he does.

“Sweetheart, I need ya to be quiet,” he grits out tightly, barely audible over his hips slamming into yours and the filthy squelch of your pussy around him. “Don’t want us gettin’ caught, do ya?”

You can’t respond, or even nod, with his hand still held firmly over your mouth, so you whine your acknowledgment into his palm, squeezing your eyes shut as you try your best to do what he asked.

You’re clearly struggling. Those muted, stuttered whimpers grow louder every time he buries himself to the hilt, and he almost wants to remove his hand and let the sounds of your pleasure echo around the room, so everyone in this house knows just how good he’s making his girl feel.

“I know, baby, I know. Feels good, don’t it? S’hard to keep all those pretty noises in when you’re takin’ so much, but I need’ya to try,” his lips graze your ear with each growled word.

Another pained whimper passes your lips through the cracks between his fingers, and he accidentally bucks into you harder than he means to. Christ, he’s never heard you sound like this before. So needy. He shouldn’t, but he wants to hear more. To feel your chest vibrate with it, watch in the mirror as your mouth parts around even just one perfect, drawn-out moan.

The hand buried in your hair trails down your neck, beautifully elongated as your back arches to take him deeper, and snakes around your body. He tugs down the front of your shirt—that flimsy fucking tank top that's been teasing him all night—to cup your breast and, fuck, you like that. Your pussy grips him in response, clenching intermittently while he roughly tweaks your nipple between two calloused fingers.

You’re tight, almost too tight for him to keep up his merciless pace if he wants to last much longer, and so goddamn wet. You’re seeping right into the wine-stained fabric of his jeans, making an even bigger mess than you started with.

“Look at ya,” he mumbles, slowing to watch in awe as his cock drags against your entrance, reappearing slicker with every thrust. “So fuckin’ tight...and sloppy. You’re makin’ a mess of me, sweetheart."

You shudder under his rapt attention, at the sheer want in his voice, but despite the obvious effect of his words, you’re still staying quiet, just like he told you to. You’ve been such a good girl, so he decides to take a risk and reward you.

“M'gonna let go, alright? But ya gotta keep bein' good for me," he leans down to press his lips between your shoulder blades, his hand dropping from your mouth to settle on your waist. "Don't need'ta be silent, just need'ya to keep it down. Can ya do that?"

You gasp as his slow, deep thrusts still and he presses flush against your ass, grinding into you languidly as he waits for your answer.

"Y-yeah...yes, yes," you reply weakly, cold ceramic digging into your breasts as you pant heavily into the sink. "Keep going—p-please, just fuck me."

"That's my girl," he breathes raggedly, and he's a little ashamed at how quickly his balls start to tighten at the soft timbre of your voice.

His pace abruptly picks up, and then he's forcing you onto his cock again, his hips slamming into yours with a steady, wet thock-thock-thock that's probably louder than you've been all night. But he doesn't stop—you feel way too fucking good to stop, and he likely couldn't even if he tried.

In the back of his mind, he tells himself that your parents are probably doing dishes by now, and whatever he's doing to their daughter upstairs is getting drowned out by running water and clattering dishware.

He continues to repeat the shitty lie to himself as he yanks you up, pulling your back flush against his chest and wrapping an arm around your stomach to hold you in place. The abrupt shift changes the angle of his hips so he’s fucking up into you instead, and it feels...indescribable.

He's hitting something he wasn't able to reach before, a sensitive spot impossibly deeper inside you that has your pussy squeezing him, gushing down his cock, and he's—

Fuck, he's not going to last long.

"Mmph...fuck—there, Joel, there. So, so fucking close, please, need it harder."

Christ, and you begging him to fuck you harder isn't helping. His hand drops between your legs to your swollen clit, slipping through the slick mess to rub tight, insistent circles into the hardening nub, and the heady friction has your thighs quaking almost immediately.

"S'good...feels soso good," you slur deliriously, teetering on the cusp of your orgasm. "Wanted you so fucking bad all night...ngh, should've fucked me right there on the table—"

Joel cuts you off before you can finish, pushed a little too far past his limit.

"Baby, m'gonna cum if ya don’t shut up," he grits through his teeth, still pounding into that spot, still rubbing hard and fast swirls into your clit, and he can feel how close you are.

"F-fuck, me too—m'so close. Fill me up, please."

That sends him over the edge. You barely have time to gasp in a breath before he shoves you back down, lifting one of your legs up to the side so he can sink even deeper as he practically mounts you on the edge of the sink.

"Fuck yeah, I'll fill ya up," he groans, drawn-out and wrecked, as he empties inside you, thick spurts coating your convulsing walls. His hands greedily roam your body, caressing every inch of bare skin he can reach. "Send ya back downstairs to your momma and daddy with my cum leakin' out of ya. Filthy fuckin' girl."

Three more achingly deep thrusts, and then you're cumming hard, exploding hot and wet around him, already feeling him start to drip out of you and down your thighs. Your entire body seizes, desperate not to make a single sound while he fucks you through your orgasm, but then Joel meets your eyes in the mirror.

The warm chestnut of his eyes has been completely overtaken by his blown-pupils and he looks a little wild, like he's about to do something you'll both regret. Then, he does. Without warning, he buries his face into the crook of your neck and bites down hard, sucking a bruise into your skin he knows you won't be able to hide, and the squeal that erupts from your chest is high-pitched enough that you know everyone in the house heard it.

The thought alone stokes the heat already starting to build in the pit of his groin again, and the sight of his cum leaking out of your pussy in thick globs when he pulls out only fans the flames.

"M'takin' you home, sweetheart. Gonna fuck ya the way you deserve," he mumbles into your marked skin, and you tremble in his arms, whimpering softly through an aftershock. "Then, you can scream as loud as ya want—"

"Everything alright up there?" Your mom's voice filters up the stairs. "What, did one of y'all fall into the sink?"

Joel noses into your hair, chuckling before he responds.

"Just finished."

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller smut #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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gamermattsgf · 4 months

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Silk ribbons // sub Chris

Warnings: major sub Chris / mommy kink / blindfold kink / restraints kink / overstimulation / praise kink / cum kink (I literally have no idea what to call this lol, you’ll get what I mean tho… hopefully) / degradation / slut shaming / male masterbation / hand job / female masterbation (if u squint)

Summary: chris invites you around to bake brownies, but after a slight mishap with your underwear he finds it increasingly difficult to concentrate on anything but the sight of them.

Author’s notes: this oneshot is literally the physical embodiment of training wheels by Melanie Martinez ugh, it matches the vibe perfectly. You guys wanted sub Chris so I delivered, enjoy yourselves thirsty hoes ;)

“I love everything you do, when you call me fucking dumb for the stupid shit I do… I wanna ride my bike with you, fully undressed, no training wheels left for you…” - Training Wheels, Melanie Martinez

Chris thinks he’s a little strange.

Ever since he’s been young he’s loved all things to do with the colour baby pink, and he’s always led a life of soft aesthetics, pearls and strawberry shortcake daydreams. He’s grown up looking around at other people and thinking there has been something wrong with him because there’s no way a man should have been this obsessed over all things soft and delicate.

But he couldn’t help it.

He just couldn’t resist the gentle look of soft pink bows, used for both accessories and decor, and he really loved his mom’s antique pink china tea set, so much so that whenever she offered to make him tea he’d always shyly request it to be poured into one of those cups. He just liked the look of them, that’s all.

He also loved his mom very much, he was for sure a momma’s boy, but unfortunately her affections and coddles rubbed off on him a little too well, which left him as a touch starved 20 year old… absolutely terrified of being asked to top.

Truthfully, he really had no idea what he was doing in the bedroom, he didn’t like the control or the freedom to do whatever he wanted.

Within his sexual fantasies he’d much rather have been the subservient one to whoever was willing to entertain his strange desires.

Because he wanted to be babied, he wanted to be degraded, he wanted hair strokes and wrist ties.

He had met you at his local skatepark whilst sitting on the edge of a ramp.

Biting his lip, he had been peeling off the paper from the sticky side of a hello kitty bandaid that he had needed to use to cover up a graze. His nostrils had flared and he had hissed at the rawness of it on his skint kneecap. He knew he should have worn his jeans that day, not his jorts.

Whilst securing it onto his cut, the skateboard that he had been sat on top of creaked gently underneath his weight. Suddenly, the wheels to another skateboard had filled his ears whilst he focused in on the calming pink colour of the bandaid, admiring the soft little white cat print. The gritting sound of them on the concrete had forced him to look up to you, who had now stepped off of your own skateboard and kicked it up into your hand.

You had smiled down at Chris cheekily, curious but shy in front of him. Fondly laughing, you had pointed to the hello kitty plaster on his knee that had covered up his cut as he sat before you on the floor. ‘Nice bandaid.’ Chris had swallowed nervously, thinking that this stranger was about to tease him about the girly looking bandaid… but - to his bewilderment - you had sat down next to him instead, your perfume a waft of sweet roses that again, readily attracted Chris because of his acute love for all things light.

‘Got a spare for me?’

And after that day you two had just clicked.

You’re not really sure if you were friends or something more, but Chris undeniably felt attracted to you, partly because when he had muscled up the right amount of nerves to invite you around to his place, you had excitedly freaked out over his coquettish room, marvelling at its cuteness and flopping onto his bed to grab his monkey stuffed animal and cuddle it into your chest.

Chris had been so fucking terrified that you would have been weirded out by his taste in room decor, but on the contrary- you had found it extremely interesting, that someone as masculinely set and attractive as Chris had such a unique aesthetic.

You had never really met anyone like Chris, and that excited you. His room was queer, a perfect mix of both boyish and girlish things. His skateboard was always leant up against the door to his closet and random pictures of rappers haphazardly dotted themselves about his walls. Additionally, a desk with a pc sitting on top of it took up the left hand corner of his room whilst his blue and white headset constantly rested on top of his Xbox.

Oddly, you hadn’t expected his bedcovers to be a pearly silk pink when you had first entered the threshold, nor expected the white fluffy throw blanket draped lazily over the side of it, but you hadn’t complained. You had loved it.

Looking back, it didn’t surprise you much. He did wear an awful lot of pink. A deep pink puffer jacket, pink t-shirts, a pink button down for formal occasions and he had even doodled pink swirls onto his white Nikes with acrylic leather pens. He usually skated in them, and one day when you asked him where he had gotten them from he had told you did them himself. This only made him ten times cooler in your eyes.

On this occasion, you were around at his place to hang out downstairs. Chris had suggested baking brownies and you had been quick to agree with him, finding a recipe online and opening different cupboard doors to select ingredients.

For some reason however, sexual tensions between you two had been high. You felt it hit you extra hard whenever your sides brushed or whenever Chris flicked his powdery blue eyes to meet yours, before he shyly averted them and cleared his throat. Multiple times you had looked down to his arms to see that the soft hairs of them were raised to attention, and whenever Chris’ palms touched against yours to help you stir the mixture you felt them to be clammy with sweat. It was only when you bent down to grab another mixing bowl that you realised something was truly up, because Chris had gone silent.

Why you ask? As you had bent down, your soft white sweats had slipped from above the handles of your hips to reveal the tight waistband of your lacy underwear pinching against your skin perfectly. Chris’ throat had gone dry. Fuck, he had felt like such a pervert looking at the soft cherries of your ass cheeks that were covered over with your sweats, but he couldn’t help the way the butterflies shooting through his gut quickly traveled past his own underwear and right to his cock.

You were wearing lacy pink underwear.

Chris was a naturally anxious and nervous person that liked to overthink. Immediately his mind drew itself to a bunch of different conclusions over something probably meaningless. Were you wearing that set because you knew that you were going to be around at his and that the colour pink reminded you of him? Or was it just a coincidence that you chose to wear literally the most tantalising pair of underwear that you could have in his presence.

He wasn’t sure, but his mind overwhelmed himself with these thoughts whilst his eyes greedily drank in the eyeful you had given him. Reacting quickly, he thought it necessary to speedily dart behind the other side of the counter before you could turn around and see how embarrassingly hard his cock had gotten. He felt wet, his tip hot and soaking as he quickly plummeted into humiliation at his lack of self control. He pressed his hips into the counter, flustered with a stupidly obviously blush dusting lightly over his cheeks whilst he held his breath, trying to conceal any noise he might have been tempted to make at the rub of the hard-wooded counter against his flushed cock.

You had turned back around, completely oblivious to what had happened and unconsciously pulling your sweatpants back up by nature.

After quickly edging his way to the exit of the kitchen and rushing an ‘I’ll be right back’ shakily, he stumbled his way up the stairs, practically cupping his length so that you couldn’t see it before sprinting into his room and closing the door behind him.

Chris has never felt more embarrassed in his life. You are still downstairs and he still has a raging boner.

Panicking, he doesn’t feel like he can get rid of it by willing it to go down with just images in his mind, so he worriedly comes to the conclusion that he’s going to have to touch himself.

His heart races, and his cheeks flush a humiliated red, getting even hotter the more he meekly pads over to the side of his dresser with his cock throbbing and his balls tight. He frowns when all his mind can do to help is cast 3D printed images of your ass snuggled into the pair of underwear you were wearing right in front of his field of vision, evidently making his stiffy now much worse.

He slaps his clammy hand to his forehead, his fingertips lightly brushing over the yellow bandana that he has on to pull back his hair. His shoulders heave as he squeezes his eyes shut in disbelief.

As he reaches out his other hand to his top dresser drawer, he swallows when noticing it’s shaking with nerves. He can’t believe he’s going to have to do this whilst the girl he normally thinks about when he strokes himself is actually downstairs in his house.

The thought makes Chris want to throw himself out of the window, because he’s generally embarrassed wanking off with his family in the house, no less with the girl that he likes as more than a friend residing just downstairs in his kitchen. But there’s no other way to get rid of it, and wouldn’t it be more embarrassing for him to be parading around you with his cock proudly on show than for him to quietly sate his horny hunger in the comfort of his own room?

Sliding the drawer out, his jittering hand goes straight for the tube of lotion, knowing that he’s going to have to make this as quiet as possible so that you don’t get suspicious as to where he’s actually gone.

Rapidly sliding off his sweatpants, he takes a shaky breath at the feeling of the fabric rubbing against his sensitivity before the soft material drops down to his ankles and he has to step out of them.

Kneeling onto his bed, it squeaks quietly underneath his weight and Chris has to cringe in both guilt and arousal.

Inconspicuously worming his bottom half under the silky pink covers, he tunes in his ears to make sure that the house upstairs is silent and that there can be no creaks of floorboards heard before blinking and flipping open the cap of the lotion.

He squirts a heavy amount of the sticky clear liquid onto the palm of his sweating hand before gulping and arching up his hips so that his spare hand can thumb itself into the band of his white boxers. Pulling them down he pants a little and shamefully looks at his twitching cock, his tip a bright red and his skin a needy pink whilst the thick vein on the left side of his shaft bulges outwardly.

Before he begins, a surge of sexual excitement hits his nervous system and has adrenaline pulsing through his blood. He decides to grip onto the hem of his shirt at the last minute so that he can tuck it into his mouth and bite down on it as a last ditch effort to suppress any noises he knows that he’s going to make.

Another thing Chris is embarrassed about is how loud he gets, and this statement still rings true as the already cherry red flush on his face seems to thicken even more after he looks down at his cock to observe the way his hand spreads the lotion along the hot thickness of his girth.

At the first touch, his back arches slightly, and he has to take in a laboured breath at the feeling of his cock, rock hard in his grip and begging to be stroked by his hand.

‘Ugh fuck…’ he moans breathlessly into the bite of his t-shirt, humiliation swarming him in waves as he starts to jerk his hand up and down. It was like torture, being forced to listen to the sticky slickness of the lotion moving upon his throbbing skin as he whimpered and spread his legs slightly with the current of pleasure that came with it.

‘Fuck… fuck… f-fuck…’ he stutters quickly through more pants, his fist tightening perfectly as he feels the slimy texture of his guilty filth run over his hand. His back rests against the headboard of his bed but it doesn’t stay there for long intervals at a time because of how much it arches.

He sweats, and breathlessly feels like he doesn’t know what to do with himself the more he stimulates his cock. His other hand grapples and fidgets, first clutching onto his thigh, but then moving restlessly around to grope his pearly pink pillow, only to then move once again up to his headboard. His arm extends across the expanse of it whilst his fingers knuckle the wood.

Chris’ head tilts and hits the wall with his eyebrows furrowed when his thumb comes up to quickly swirl over his tip before he whimpers into the air and allows his t-shirt to drop down out of his mouth and crumple back into its original resting place. He simply cannot hold it within the bite of his lip anymore because all his mouth does is lay slackened and open.

He then allows himself to tune out the rest of the world, only focussing in on his pleasure until playing with his slit becomes too sensitive.

Looking down once again in fascination at his hand working against his cock, the erotic noise of the lotion lubricating his skin makes him mumble a quiet ‘Jesus Christ…’ before he’s shutting his eyes again.

This time however, when he shuts his eyes an almost incriminatingly foul image crosses his mind, and he wants to slap himself for thinking such a dirty thing about such a sweet girl.

But suddenly, he sees visions of an elegant you, lying down sprawled across the other side of his bed. An elegant you that seems to be wearing a matching two piece set in baby pink…

The bra is see-through, allowing Chris to fantasise about what your nipples may look like whilst your tits lay perfectly nestled in between the sheer silky material with bows and pearls decorating the pale pink lace, he also seems to imagine it being one of those pretty bras where the fabric is detachable from the wires so that Chris can easily suck on your tits, drooling all over them like a lovesick puppy.

The panties are indeed too, lacy and decorated with a little bow on the top, however, scandalously attached to the sweetheart underwear are sensual-looking garters, that pull up knee high white socks with tiny pink love hearts stitched into them, the frills at the top also being a matching baby pink.

Chris moans again at the image and pants into the air at the thought he fantasises just for himself. His absolute dream underwear set on you.

But that’s not all. Because along with the temptress-esque underwear he has you wearing, your knees are also propped up with your legs spread out, one hand perched lazily on the covers. You lie there, with a somewhat helpless look on your face, whilst your other hand slips down your bare navel to in between your spread legs so that you can delicately play with yourself.

The noises Chris imagines you let out are soft, and you almost purr desperately, looking at him with lustrously hooded eyes and your hair fanning out around you like an angel.

‘Aren’t you going to play with me Chris…?’ His imagination pouts gently to him in the warped voice of you, your finger circulating where Chris wants to touch the most before you hiss quietly in pleasure.

‘I want you to touch me… please… be my good boy, I’m aching for your cock…’ you whine again, panting quietly whilst Chris moans once more, whimpering this time a pathetic ‘mommy…’ that more so comes out like a babbling baby’s whisper, before he dares to look down at the image he’s conjured up in his mind once more to help himself get off.

‘I’m dripping Chris… please… I need you angel boy… I- I- I wish you could just stuff me full of your cock. I’ll always be your sweet girl, I promise! Haven’t I been a good mommy? Do I not deserve it?’ You coquettishly pout once again, your big beautiful glassy eyes almost welling up with tears as you perfectly demonstrates the balance between sadness and sexual desire. You look like his strawberry shortcake daydream… and Chris so badly wants to sink his teeth into your flesh.

This almost pushes him over the edge, his legs spreading the furthest they can go to make sure that his hand can get the best access to his cock whilst the covers that he once had concealing his embarrassed sensitivity now rolling down his legs.

The bed squeaks as he fucks his hips upwards gently into his hand. The more he gets carried away within his groans of struggle and hitched breathes of a long awaited high, the more agressive he gets with his grip.

All of his incoherent speeches are drowned out by the squeaking groan of his bed and the sticky stroke of his cock. Now, the red blush from his cheeks has spread to pretty much his whole entire face, his sinful act also feeling so so fucking addictive. And he feels like he’s swimming in ecstasy, mumbling your name in pleasure, over and over again. That is… until there is a gentle, almost timid knock at his door, the cupped fist most likely belonging to the only other person in the house at the moment. You…

…oh fuck.

‘Chris what are you-’

You suddenly burst into his room, completely unannounced after your knock, because you had heard the guttural stutter of your name…

And there Chris sits, like a deer caught in headlights, frozen with his lower half naked and his boxers clinging to the skin of his thighs. You clock the discarded bottle of lotion on the left side of his bed covers and then gawk at his glistening cock, wrapped up within his right fist.

‘Oh- fuck, sorry!’ You yelp suddenly, yourself unable to look away and Chris too stunned with embarrassment to rush and cover himself up. There would be no point now anyway, it was so fucking blatantly obvious what he was doing.

‘N-no please it’s my fault. I- I just didn’t want you to see. Thought I could get rid of it quietly’ Chris stutters back at you, now finally gaining the common sense to cover himself up by draping his duvet over his nakedness so that he could regain some of his decency back. But his decency quickly crumbles once again when you let out a huge breath. You relax, your eyes blinking as you cock your hip to the side. ‘Why’d you stop…?’.

Chris swallows nervously and his jaw goes slack at your question, he furrows his brows, slightly confused, ‘why’d I- why’d I stop?’. His voice sounds hoarse and he has to clear his throat ever so slightly in awkwardness.

‘Yeah… doesn’t really bother me to be honest’.

His hands are shaking underneath the plushness of his silky covers.

‘Umm… well I just thought you’d be a little weirded out by it that’s all… s’that not normal?’ He chokes out, feeling it very queer to be having a conversation with you like this, still hyper aware that his cock is painfully hard and that you can probably still see it poking up from under his bedsheets. He squirms around at this thought, his cheeks red and emanating heat.

You just shrug. ‘I mean… for some people probably, but not me’ you smirk ‘what were you thinking about?’. As if Chris isn’t embarrassed enough already, this question makes everything so much worse. ‘Umm… well I- uh’ he bumbles stupidly, struggling to find the words, which just makes you even more smug. You’re not stupid, you had heard him mumble your name from the other side of the door before you had burst it open.

‘C’mon Chris be a big boy now and spit it out’ you chided him, walking towards him a little. In response to this he shuffles further back up his bed, trying to get away from the overwhelming burden of having to admit that it was you he was thinking about.

‘Umm… just- stuff’ he jitters, and you roll your eyes. ‘Don’t bullshit my Chris, you and I both know that it was me… believe it or not you weren’t dealing with it as “quietly” as you thought you were’. Chris knows there’s no way to possibly skirt around this, so his chest deflates and he sighs. Fucking curse him for being too noisy. His eyes shyly look to his bedcovers, refusing meet yours. ‘Fine… it was you. Sorry… I just couldn’t help it’. His hand not covered in a thin layer of lotion comes up to his eyes and pinches them shut.

‘Don’t be sorry. I’m flattered to be on your mind. Because you sound so pretty getting off to the thought of me…’ you smirk when Chris snaps his eyes open, his misty blue irises flicking about your face to scan for any hint of a lie. But there’s none there to detect because you are being genuine with him.

Chris is a very interesting person, so you feel like he’s the kind of guy to have interesting kinks… I mean… look at him, so feminine yet so fucking masculine at the same time. He’s the kind of person that anyone would be lucky to taste before they die.

‘Yeah? You think about me with your hand down your pants often Chris?’ You taunt him, your heady smirk working him up into a flustered state of stuttering. ‘No! Well- I- yes… but it’s not like-’.

He vigorously tries to defend himself but he only makes a mess of his speech pattern, so you do him a favour by hushing him softly. You’re now towering over him, his big eyes trained on you and his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously. ‘What do you like Chris?’ You ask, leaving the question opened ended. This could have been about anything, but of course, you only have one goal in mind. You want to know what gets him going, gets him hard, gets his back arching and his legs spreading…

‘What do you mean…?’ Chris decides to play dumb, his shyness seeping through every pore in his body. ‘Chris you know what I mean. What keeps you up at night… what do I do in your imagination that makes you want to touch yourself until you’re making a mess all over yourself hm?’ Your voice is light and gentle whilst you bravely reach your hand out to cup underneath his jaw. You lift his chin gently, the weight of his head softly resting on your hand as he swallows again.

‘I like…’ he mumbles breathlessly, struggling to get the rest of the words out before you are peeling back his sweetie pie pink covers to expose him. You look down to see his thighs twitching slightly at being revealed to you once again. ‘Oh Chris that looks sore baby…’ you coo, and his hips squirm. ‘Keep going’ you respond to him, wanting him to finish answering your question. But this time, you reach out your hand to grasp onto his cock, his texture warm and damp.

Chris bites his lip and feathers his eyes closed, his head tipping back and a boiling hot surge of pleasure scalding his gut as soon as you start to work your hand against his slick skin. ‘Um… look- look in my bedside drawer…’ he moans, his voice struggling to crawl up his throat without a whine tinging to every single word. You furrow your eyebrows, keeping your hand on Chris as you lean over to use your other one, which wraps around the handle of his drawer slowly.

Sliding it out, you look inside to see all of the typical things kept in a man’s nightstand, as well as some girlier things like a bundle of different pearl necklaces, but you’re not interested in that.

You’re more interested in the pink silk ribbons, that are long enough to wrap tightly around someone’s wrists and restrain them there.

‘Chris… are these for…’ you trail off, subconsciously squeezing his cock a little harder as your eyes sparkle at the cheeky silk ties. Chris nods, filling in the gaps for you and answering your suspicions with an ‘uhuh’.

Your hand dives in without a moment to lose, fishing out the exiting looking toys that you can play with. ‘Chris you little slut’ you giggle with a surprised air about you, admiring the way he looks at the ribbons as you place them on his bed.

‘Hey! M’not a slut!!’ He snaps his head back up to look at you, whining in offence, but you shake your head, finding that so fucking hard to believe.

‘Is that so… well, in that case I’ll just have to make you into one using them then’ you slur seductively, before slinging your leg over his naked lap. Chris nearly chokes at your fast actions whilst you fully straddle him and push his back into the headboard. Wrestling one of his wrists up to the holed wood Chris pants and slides his bottom half further down onto the bed so that he can lie on his torso whilst you tie his hand to the headboard. Chris doesn’t put up a fight… he wants this.

He’s wanted it for so long.

The second one doesn’t come long after.

He hisses suddenly at how tightly you had tied them, his wrists practically unable to move in their awkward position slung up over his head and pinned to the headboard. The pretty pink silk brushing against his skin delicately makes him ache, and he admires your work.

‘Where’d you learn how to do that?’ He utters in breathless wonder whilst you find it hard not to smirk at what you’re going to do next. ‘Practice’ you muse whilst Chris shuffles about, unable to get comfortable. Your hands then shoot out and come to rest on the yellow bandana neatly pushing back his long wavy hair.

‘W-wait, what are you doing?’ he stutters as you use them to gently slide the fabric down over his eyes. This conceals his line of vision, and you watch the way his fingers and arms flex helplessly, his mind immediately trying to move his hands to push the bandana back up onto his forehead. But it’s no use, and he moans in frustration when he realises that there’s no way he’s going to be able to slip the bandana back up because his wrists are restrained.

‘Fuck… t-that’s not fair!’ He cries out in defiance but all you do is snigger, getting off of the bed so that you can admire the way his long legs stretch out to the bottom of his bed and kick about restlessly, his cock still red and throbbing whilst his colourful t-shirt rides up just above the curves of his slutty little waist. Strands of his soft looking hair fall over the yellow bandana that rests on the delicate curve of his nose whilst he twists his neck from side to side, his wrists bending and yanking helplessly against his silk ties.

‘Oh really? If you’re going to be a naughty boy and touch yourself like that without my permission then you’re going to be treated like a naughty boy’

Chris’ cheeks flame at how much he enjoys this degradation, his prick now painful and needing to be touched once again.

‘You got anymore requests before I give you what you want baby boy?’ You quip, extremely excited and getting wet at the fact that Chris has absolutely no idea what you’re going to do to him because of the blindfold obscuring his vision.

Chris hums, debating on whether or not to reveal to you his deepest and most yearned for sexual fantasy.

You don’t skate around his debate though, ‘Chris just say it, I think we’re a little too far into our friendship now to judge each other’. He sighs at this and stops biting his lip in contemplation.

‘Can I- can I call you mommy? Please’ he shyly requests and your stomach squeezes at the idea of being called mommy. You’re not surprised that Chris has a mommy kink, it’s pretty obvious with the way he carries himself, his actions are always so soft and delicate.

‘You can call me whatever you like Chris’ you say, before crawling back onto the bed. Chris’ back arches at the freedom you give him and his head twists from side to side yet again, trying to look in vain to see if there is anyway he can possibly clock where you are. But it’s no use. His makeshift blindfold has completely obliterated his sense of sight, equally, his sense of touch is also limited which heightens his other senses tenfold.

Running your finger tips up the inner sides of his thighs, he shivers with his breathing hitched and his shoulders heaving. He looks so sweet practically defenceless before you.

‘Go on then Chris… call me mommy… beg for it’. Chris whines into the back of his throat when he feels the pad of your thumb slowly sliding over his weeping tip. ‘Please mommy- call me a slut, I don’t care… just- just touch me’ he breathes, a surge of power flowing through your veins at the way you can make him unravel at the sound of your voice. Even the faintest of touches to his cock makes him worm about pathetically.

‘There’s a good boy’.

Finally, you find it right to praise him, and by god does it illicit the desired reaction. Chris’ lips curve up into a proud little smile, his legs spreading and his head throwing all the way back to put his powerful jaw on show, his masculine neck heavily contoured and highlighting his strong throat structure within the dim lighting of his room. ‘I am a good boy mommy’ he meekly responds back whilst your hand rewards him further by wrapping itself around him yet again.

He feels nice in your palm, warm and thick, precum dribbling down his tip and mixing with the lotion that is still making him sticky enough to easily slide your hand over him. And doesn’t he just look like the sweetest darling, all messy and panting beneath you?.

‘You like the way I touch you? Is this the kind of thing you dream about baby?’ You muse as you work your hand along him to stimulate his prick. You know he’s not going to last long, he had edged himself enough already before you had interrupted him. And you know that he is most likely going to have the most earth-shattering orgasm at your touch.

He nods shakily, his hips thrusting up accidentally to get more friction. ‘All the time’ he states, this time a little more confidently, and you hum in satisfaction.

‘You look pretty in pink baby boy’ you suddenly compliment him, and this makes Chris the happiest he’s been yet. He gets flustered and shy, especially after you stroke his ego with telling him he looks nice is his favourite colour. Something about someone complimenting him in that way makes him feel soft and light. ‘Thank you mommy…s’my favourite’ he shyly peeps, his voice as smooth as butter and making your thighs quiver. You’ll definitely be around at his place a lot more often after this to get even more of his strawberry goodness.

‘I know sweet boy… and that’s why you look so pretty in it’ you praise him even more, and he moans uncontrollably, his cock twitching within your hand. ‘Fuck, is my good boy ready to cum already?’.

He hums vigorously. ‘Y-yes mommy… so bad’. You sigh, feeling sad that this moment is over so soon, because he just looks so pretty tied up and blindfolded below you, but you conclude that he’s suffered enough already with having to hold on for this long, and so you let him cum.

‘Okay then sweet boy, you cum when you’re ready’.

And cum he does, a fuck load. It melts and drips all over his stomach, and Chris curses into the air after every time your hand works down his length with a squeezing motion to get rid of as much cum as you can. After the sticky strings of them are spent and Chris whines in overstimulation, you let go of his cock.

Chris thinks it’s over, and he cools down with his chest heaving and his mouth panting, that is, until you unexpectedly place your hands on his stomach, right into his puddle of cum.

Chris chokes when your hands start to make a slow ascent up his stomach, past his happy trail and up to his chest, absolutely covering him in his own cum. He moans at this, feeling your sticky fingers trailing over his rib cage. You smirk at him.

‘Thought you weren’t a slut Chris…? Good boys don’t like this kind of thing’.

His tilted head snaps back up, cutting his enjoyment short with a pout and a pitiful ‘but I am a good boy-’, his blindfold still completely concealing the way his eyes are probably glassing up with worry. ‘Really? Because I don’t think so…’ you tease once again, knowing that it’s just going to get him even more worked up. Gathering up a dollop of his cum onto two of your fingers you sneakily gravitated them up to his mouth whilst he fusses about underneath you.

To shut him up, you use your spare hand to open up his mouth fully and slot your two fingers onto his tongue. ‘Shhh, suck on this baby, you just focus on how you taste and I’ll worry about everything else, that’s what mommy’s are for yeah?’.

This quiet babying seems to work to get Chris to calm down, and his needy figure relaxes whilst curling his tongue around your two fingers and licking off his own cum. He swallows it all in one go. Removing your hand from his mouth, finally, you let him see once again by pulling off the yellow bandana, leaving his hair in a ruffled, fluffy mess.

His lips are blood red and his cheeks are a light pink, his silk ties matching his sheepish complexion whilst he watches you unravel them. After they’re removed, you look to see the red marks they’ve left on Chris’ wrists from how tightly they had been tied and equally how hard Chris had been tugging against them within his pleasure filled trance.

Suddenly you begin to giggle. And you can’t stop. A tired looking Chris gazes over at you in confusion, his stomach and chest shining with a trail of his own cum.

‘What?’

He shuffles around insecurely, his shyness once again blocking up any other emotion.

‘Nothing… it’s just… I kinda always knew you had a mommy kink after you mumbled it in your sleep one time I was staying over. Think you were having a wet dream’.

Chris goes red once again, his eyes widening as he smacks his lips, grabbing his fluffy white pillow and affectionately hitting your head with it at not telling him sooner that you had actually heard something you shouldn’t have.

This of course, initiates a playful pillow fight between the two of you, which slowly transitions into somewhat of a messy make out session with your tongues twisting against each other’s and your noses brushing before you both collectively hear the sound of the smoke alarm going off in the kitchen.

You gasp and pull away from Chris’ sugary lips.

‘FUCK, THE BROWNIES!’

Author’s notes p.2: phew that was a lot. Can u guys tell I love the colour pink?? I’m lowkey obsessed with coquette baby girl Chris ngl, he’s literally the male embodiment of a Melanie Martinez song. I hope u guys enjoyed my take on sub!Chris, but request and ask me anything as always!! :) @luverboychris this one is for you wife, I know you’ve been waiting for it <3

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#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sub matt sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo #mommy k!nk #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo x reader

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theragethatisdesire · 11 months

Text

aot men as dads - headcanon!! some 18+!!

includes: eren, jean, reiner, & levi

i'm still working on some full-fledged one-shots and parts of my series', but i'm nannying for the summer and have BABY FEVER. please enjoy my little headcanons of my fav aot men as dads <3

DISCLAIMER: some of this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

Eren

ok but eren is such a cringe dad lol

buys himself all of the #1 Dad! merch. he’s got mugs, tshirts, hats, all of it, and all of it went on his credit card.

10000% a girl dad. loves all the little dresses and bows; he puts your daughter’s hair in its first bun, nearly tears up when she points at his matching hairstyle and babbles “like da-da!”

you have to parent eren as much as the children. when you turn the corner into the living room where he’s supposed to be having “quiet time” with your toddler only to find that they’re buried in a pillow fort and eren’s signed his own name in crayon on the wall next to your daughter’s scribblings. “babe, we can just repaint it! she’s being creative.”

loves when you’re pregnant. after your first, eren keeps a calendar on the wall marking off the days until it’s safe for him to fuck you again, fuck a baby right back into you. already has a breeding kink before your first. develops a lactation kink after.

TERRIFIED (and i mean terrified) of hurting your little angel. has absolutely zero concept of “cry it out”; if he hears his baby crying, he’s sprinting into the next room, kissing a nonexistent boo-boo.

refuses to admit it but he has no backbone when it comes to your daughter wanting literally anything. she wants it, she gets it.

favorite thing in the world is matching outfits. favorite. “babe, where’s her green hoodie? i’m wearing mine today for the park!” “of course it matters, we have to match! on that note, where’s yours?”

lets your daughter use his hair to learn how to braid. usually has a few pink hair ties or glittery clips sticking out of it when you come home from a mom’s night out.

really big on your baby getting to see the world. drags you on vacation to any place he can think of, even as you try to explain to him that she can’t form any long term memories yet. “but baby, she’ll have pictures. how many kids in her class can bring a picture of them at the eiffel tower to their first show-and-tell?”

accidentally ruins santa and the tooth fairy for your daughter. cries harder than she does over it.

aggressively vets babysitters. ends up settling for a nursing student in the labor & delivery school who’s the oldest of seven children and probably more knowledgeable about child development than both of you combined, but he’s still suspicious.

wants to watch while you push, watch his baby come into the world. you’ve never seen a sweeter sight than eren in his scrubs, crying while holding your baby girl.

Jean

most people picture eren as being the roughhousing dad, but it’s jean, and i will die on this hill.

freaks out every time he drops your first boy while throwing him around like a ragdoll, but he’ll never stop because “listen!! he’s laughing!”. when it comes to the rest of them, he’s experienced enough now to tell the difference between a real booboo and an imagined one, and he simply brushes their little pants off caringly before shouting “now you tackle me!”

jean’s got no gender preference for your first, or the rest of your little brood for that matter. he raises them exactly the same, regardless: tough.

it takes him awhile to get used to the concept of babies’ minds. you’ve walked in on him having full-blown arguments with your shrieking toddlers several times. “what’s not making sense? if you let your goldfish ‘swim’ in the toilet, it dies, simple as that.”

plays “bad cop” for you because you’re terrible at it, but he’s always having to turn around and snicker into his elbow in the middle of scolding because your babies get the same little throbbing forehead vein as you when they’re mad

wants a big family, and gets it. you practically have to drag him to get his balls snipped after your fourth, him reminding you that “it’s reversible!” the entire way there.

the newborn phase is his favorite. he’s rarely home for any longer than ten minutes without scooping your most recent addition into his arms, squishing their little cheeks and marveling at their gurgling noises.

the kids never give him anxiety, but when you’re pregnant??? jean’s a wreck.

“do your feet still hurt, love?” “what do you mean you have indigestion? that could be the baby coming!” “of course we can’t have sex, what if we poke its little head?”

definitely the dad that’s got a delivery bag and a backup bag and an emergency third backup of the backup bag in his car at all times. the first week of your third trimester, he starts watching you suspiciously for any signs of labor, even though this is your fourth together. you think you’ve got it down by now, you tell him, but he won’t listen.

always gets the kids to work together on little surprises for you. every mother’s day they wake you up with breakfast, every valentines day your dining room table is covered in handmade cards, every birthday your kitchen is coated in flour from jean and four little ones attempting to bake

SO HARD to drag him out for a date night. he wants to bring them everywhere: the fancy restaurant, the couples' get away trip

jean's that dad standing in the bar, watching the game, beer in hand, with an occupied baby carrier strapped to his chest

wants to watch during delivery, but he passed out the first go-round, so now he’s content standing up by your head, trying not to turn white as you squeeze his hand hard enough to break.

talks you into just one more on your fourth’s second birthday. “they’re all so big now. don’t you miss it, babe? my baby in your belly? c’mon…” turns out he reversed that vasectomy without telling you

Reiner

another girl dad. hardcore girl dad.

buys his little princess all number of dresses and barbies, is confused when she’s more interested in the baseballs her classmates have.

accidentally raises the most tomboyish, toughest little girl. still babies her, and she hates it.

cries more than you do on your first date night out when you leave her with your mom. forgets to order his entree at the restaurant because he’s watching the baby monitor app on his phone.

definitely the best at splitting baby duties with you. reiner’s up before you most nights when she wakes, grabbing a bottle and cooing at her lovingly even as she screams. you always try to stay awake to watch him on the baby monitor, though, heart melting as his massive arms rock the tiny bundle back to sleep.

all the neighborhood kids love him because of his size. at every cookout, reiner can’t help on the grill because he’s buried in the grass in a little army of toddlers, led by your daughter, shrieking with joy.

always taking pictures. literally always. unflattering ones when you fall asleep breastfeeding, candids at the zoo, eighteen identical pictures of the lock of hair from her first haircut clogging up his camera roll.

can’t be the bad cop. literally ever. he just can’t say no to his little princess, can’t break her precious little heart by telling her that throwing her food onto the floor is bad.

takes your daughter to mommy & me classes with him

DILF DILF DILF. all the moms in the classes swoon over him and gossip about him when he’s not there; much to your annoyance, reiner never notices, insisting that they’re his “mommy friends”.

always sporting a little bit of glitter on his face or a sticker on his back from your daughter

coming from a fatherless background, reiner nearly kills himself trying to be a constant presence in your daughter’s life (you have to remind him that he has to rest too)

never misses an open house night at school, even if it nearly gets him fired. coaches all of her sports teams. literally almost cries when she makes her first soccer goal. actually does cry when she tells you the boy sitting beside her in class called her his girlfriend. full-blown breakdown on her first day of school, so bad he has to stay home from work.

the absolute BEST through your pregnancy and delivery. always cooking your craving of the week, constant foot and back rubs, stays up all night with you for the three days before the birth when you’re just too swollen and miserable to sleep.

holds your hand through the entire delivery, gets in the doctors’ way when they’re performing checkups because “i’m her father, i need to know what’s going on”

Levi

levi never pictured himself as having children, but when your little surprise arrives, blinking up at levi with his own grey, owlish eyes, levi can’t believe he hadn’t thought of it sooner.

very easily irritated with anyone asking questions about your home life.

when his coworkers ask for your newborn’s name, levi simply says “child.” are you two trying again? “why the fuck do you need to know?”

super overprotective. your baby waves at someone in the supermarket, and levi’s leaning down to explain (in words your eight-month-old can’t yet understand) stranger danger.

totally one of those parents that goes half-crazy trying to get their child into the top-notch, snobby preschool in town.

“we’re not wasting his intelligence on the public school”

levi grew up with basically nothing, so he goes all out buying the best baby products on the market. $2,500 strollers, researching “best baby toys for development”, the whole nine yards.

100% spends months trying to get your child to make a game out of picking up his own toys after playtime, but it never works.

has a meal plan for your child to “optimize nutrition” that you have to sneak around to give your baby little chocolates and junk snacks.

“why are there pringles in his playtime bag? they have no nutritional value.”

vets anyone that comes around your child, even other children. “no more playtime with that evan kid. he’s always got a cold or something.”

he’s always been a light sleeper, but once you have your child, levi snores beside them watching kids’ cartoons on the tv like you’ve never seen him, even drooling as his head lolls, arm tucked tight around your little one.

learned everything he could about labor and delivery beforehand

you almost killed him in the delivery room as he explained each medical detail of your labor symptoms to “reassure” you. he finally got the hint when you threatened to decapitate him.

he thinks it’s shameful, but watching you be a mother turns. him. on.

wants to take you right there when he catches you breastfeeding, watches you read a bedtime story, spin your child around laughing. you’re just so naturally good at it and it makes him love you all the more, all that love going straight between his legs.

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victoryverse · 3 months

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cw: dub-con

thinking about gynecologist! simon who is a pervert. you've always come to him with your mother, but this time, she couldn't, so you're alone here.

a pretty, sweet, polite, and innocent girl who's unaware and uneducated about sex.

as soon as he sees you alone, a huge smirk creeps its way up his face. it's his lucky day today.

"i see you're alone today, y/n" he asks, raising his eyebrows as he comes in, locking the door behind him. tightly.

"oh-uh, um, mr-dr. riley, yeah, i-my mom was busy so i had to come-come by myself"

"oh. don't worry. i'll take good care of you, y/n"

you smile, not knowing what exactly he means by taking good care

"okay-okay, dr.riley"

you sit on the chair across from him, and he fills out your details on the doctor's form. he can't contain his excitement, the nerves evident on his face, as well as between his legs, where he feels his cock thickening at the thought of your tight, virgin cunt.

and of course, you were a virgin.

"so, we'll begin by having you on the chair miss. y/n, please take off your clothes"

you gulped down, standing up and grabbing the hem of your shirt, pulling it off your head. he stood in front of you, licking his lips as you let go of the jeans, tight jeans you were wearing, and stood there in your white bra and panties.

"take off those too, please"

you took them off too, slowly, and threw them beside you, now fully naked and standing in front of him.

simon was breathless. he was having trouble containing himself, and he wanted to bend you over at some surface and have his way with you, push his fat cock in your tight, tight pussy, and fuck you bloody raw.

maybe he will.

. . .

you all can tell me if you like this one! i wanted to do a full-ass smut scene, but wanted to see if you all would like this first! reblog, please!

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d10nyx · 3 months

Text

don't hold your breath(nobody's home)

ft. leon kennedy x fem!reader

cw: 18+ content, dead dove, uncle-niece incest, non-con, loss of virginity, very minor blood description, forced alcohol consumption, alcoholism from leon ofc, reader gets slapped, age gap, guilt, one threat, fingering, p in v, non-consensual creampie, crying, idk leon feels entitled cause his brother sucks, reader hinted at having nice tits idk

a/n: sorry if this sucks ass... my motivation for writing has been non-existent w real life stuff n all the drama so... i feel like this is awful but here we are. title from razzmatazz by idkhbtfm... not proofread i'm sorry </3

word count: 1.9k words

Leon knew he had a drinking problem. He just hadn't realised it had gotten this bad. He couldn't even get his dick up with viagra anymore. He frowns as he looks down at the brunette he was planning to fuck, tempted to try and just push it in soft.

He ends up just kicking her out to drown his sorrows. He wasn't dealing with this shit tonight, not when he was seeing his asshole brother tomorrow. Pretty wife, perfect kids. His job pays better than Leon's ever will, and he didn't need to undergo years of trauma. Lucky bastard.

Leon does what he does best that night and drinks enough whiskey so he can pass out without worrying about the nightmares coming to ruin his night.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

He hasn't seen you in a good six years. You were still playing with dolls and shit when he last visited. Makes him feel stupid when he brings you a plushie as a gift. Clearly he forgot how time worked, cause he still expected you to be thirteen. You still hug him and say thank you, sweet as ever. When his brother said he'd be watching the house and looking after you, he didn't expect to see you so... grown. Too old to need a babysitter, really. Even if your parents are gonna be gone for a week.

He gulps as his hands settle on your hips, trying to prevent you from pressing against his hardening cock. Down boy. At least his dick still works. It just took his college-aged niece to get it up. Doesn't help that you've got your tits smooshed against his chest.

Therapy was gonna be a doozy this week.

He could only pray that this doesn't turn into anything. The last thing he needed was his dick being the thing that got him thrown into prison for doing something stupid to you, no matter how cute that body of yours is. That's a new one, he thinks, mentally slapping himself for even thinking about touching you like that. He'd never do it, of course. That's sick, and he knows it. He's just so frustrated. And you're hot. A total babe. Somehow, you managed to get a better rack than your mom. Must be the Kennedy genes coming in. Leon's got tits for days.

He knew he had a drinking problem, but he never thought he'd lose himself this much. He never thought about hurting anyone. He's not a bad guy. It's just that every time he tried to be with someone, he just couldn't get his body to react the way he wanted. That's what the oxytocin was for, he thought, already thinking about taking a swig of whiskey from the flask in his pocket. If only that fucking stuff worked on him. The part of his brain that controlled his cock seemed to be permanently on vacation, and his wires clearly got crossed somewhere if he wants to fuck his own blood.

Whatever. He could get through a week alone with his niece without any trouble. He's faced worse monsters than the ones making themselves present in his mind right now. He'd keep his distance, and all would be okay.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

That didn't work. Of course it didn't. You were just as clingy with him as you were when you were a kid, following him around like a lost puppy. He's convinced he's clutching the glass of whiskey in his hand hard enough to shatter it as you curl up against his side. His cock is throbbing, and he seriously hopes you don't notice how the fabric of his jeans is getting a little strained.

You really need to stop with those tits. He's gonna lose it if they brush his arm one more time. He's not sure what it is about you, particularly, that has him acting like a teenage virgin again, but his self-control is wavering by the second. He hasn't paid a single second of attention to the movie he was meant to be watching to keep his mind off of you.

Fuck this.

He takes a swig of whiskey that drains half the liquid in his cup in one gulp. Liquid courage and all that. Maybe he'd drunk a little too much while he was here, ‘cause his brain clearly isn't working right. Not when he's pinning you to the couch, kissing your neck despite your protests.

“Leon… Leon, what're you doing?” You force out, small hands pressing at his chest as if you'd be able to knock him off. Cute. He'd fought creatures six times your size. You didn't stand a chance.

He starts undressing you, and you start writhing and crying, hitting his chest with clenched fists. He swallows the lump that builds in his throat, wiping the tears that fall down your cheeks.

“Shh… it's okay, I'm… I'm gonna take care ‘f you.” He murmurs, his voice slightly slurred from how much he'd drunk. You cry even harder when he presses a finger into you, making the guilt rise up faster in him. That's not fair. He's being nice. God didn't bless him with much, but at least he gave him a fat cock. You should feel lucky he's prepping you. Not making him feel bad.

“Hey.” He warns, shoving another finger in just to shut you up. You finch when he scissors you open. Poor thing. “That's enough. One more complaint for you, and I'll just force myself in.”

Shit. Now he really does feel like a monster. He's not drunk enough to handle the pure terror on your face at his words. He fumbles on the coffee table with his free hand as he lazily pumps into you with the other. Glass? No. Bottle.

Maybe you need some, too. Get you nice and pliant so you'll take his dick without bitching. Not a bad idea. He twists the cap off with his teeth, gulping some of the liquid down himself. He takes another mouthful before leaning down to kiss you, spitting the liquid into the back of your throat. He keeps your mouth on yours even as you try to jerk away, making sure you swallow it.

You really are adorable as you start coughing and spluttering. Such a sweet thing, you probably hadn't even drunk before. He lifts the bottle to your mouth, pouring some more into your mouth before setting it down, covering your mouth. “Swallow.”

He starts thumbing at your clit as he fingers you, relishing in the ways your whimpers turn into soft moans, your hips bucking against his hand. He manages to coax an orgasm out of you with a few more touches, a big smile spreading across his face.

“There we go, sweetie. See, that wasn't so bad, was it?” He coos, unbuttoning his jeans. The sound of the zipper has your eyes widening in horror, and he tuts softly. “What're you giving me that look for? It's your turn to take care of me now.”

There goes the begging and pleading again. It has his brows pinching together as a frown tugs at his lips. You really are his brother's kid. So goddamn ungrateful. He just took care of you, and now you just want him to… what? Fist his dick in the guest room?

He smacks you so hard your head snaps to the side, your breaths coming out in short gasps. You look better like that, tears stinging your eyes but your body completely limp. He can see the fight draining out of your eyes.

“I was gonna be nice.” He mumbles, brows furrowing as he lines his tip up with your entrance, forcing himself inside in one thrust. He groans loudly, shuddering as your tight heat envelops him. His eyes look down, locked onto your cunt as he fucks into you with long strokes. He freezes when he notices blood. He's not sure if he's happy or disgusted that he's your first. No wonder you put up such a fight.

You keep weakly begging him to stop, but your pussy is gushing all over him. It's not his fault he can't stop – you're giving him the hottest look he's ever seen, and your puffy cunt is so fucking greedy for his cock, sucking him back in everytime he starts to pull out.

“S-sorry… I'm so sorry…” He grunts, picking up the pace of his thrusts, groaning at the sound of your punched out moans as he drives into you with as much force as he can muster. You almost sound like you're enjoying it, but you're still fucking crying and he can't take it. His heart hurts.

“Baby, please…” He whispers, squeezing his eyes shut so he doesn't have to see the betrayal on your face. His arms tremble as he holds himself up, sloppily fucking into you. “I'm sorry… just stop cryin’, please…”

Every time his hips smack the fat of your ass, you're moaning out a ‘please’. With his eyes shut, he can pretend you're begging for more. That you like this. That is, until you start saying ‘stop’. He winces, but the movement of his hips doesn't falter.

“Fuck, baby… please stop begging.” He pleads, throwing his head back as his tip kisses your cervix. He whimpers as it makes you tighten around him, angling his thrusts to hit that spot each time he fully sheaths himself inside of you.

“I-I can't stop…you feel so… fuck. So fucking good. M'so close.” He groans. He can't even find the strength to pull out anymore. He buries himself balls deep in your cunt, grinding himself into your tight heat.

“L-Leon… please.” You say weakly, chest heaving with heavy breaths as panic sets in, your hands pushing at his chest. “Y-you gotta pull out, you can't… you can't.”

“What?” He breathes out, cracking his eyes open to look at you again. He looks genuinely confused. Why would he ever pull out when you felt so good? He can't bring himself to. “Baby, no. I'm cumming inside of you. Can't pull out now.”

That seems to bring your fight back. You start struggling under him again, punching him with all your strength. Luckily, that's not a lot. Especially when you're sluggish from your first time drinking and getting fucked. It's Leon's lucky day.

“Shit, baby. Don't look at me like that.” Or do. He's gonna cum if you keep staring up at him with that wide-eyed expression. “No need to be so scared, princess. I just… shit. Can't help myself.”

Doesn't take longer than a minute after that for him to finish. He buries his face in your neck, whining as he cums. His cock kicks inside of you, the warmth of his release filling every inch of you. You start sobbing all over again, slumping weakly against the couch.

He lies on top of you, his weight pressing you down into the couch. He pets your hair like you're a doll, his fingers carding through your hair.

“I'm sorry, baby. Forgive me. I'll be so good. Do whatever you want. Didn't mean it.” He murmurs, kissing your cheek over and over as if he's trying to get you to relax. He keeps it up until you fall asleep, wrapping you up in his arms.

When you wake up in the morning, you're fully dressed in your bed. You almost think it's a dream until you feel the dull throbbing between your legs.

#leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy #tw dark content #dark content #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic

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talaok · 7 months

Text

A new lesson

Pairing: step-dad!Joel miller x step-daughter!reader

Summary: Your step-dad generously offers to give you another lesson. (this is part of a series but can be read alone)

Warnings: step-incest, manipulation, straight-out lying, hence dub-con, Perv!Joel, predatory behavior, very very naive and innocent reader |Smut| oral sex ( m receiving), face-fucking, dacryphilia, and daddy-kink. And please for the love of god read the warnings and just scroll if you don’t like what you see.

a/n: @thesummerpetrichor I believe we had an agreement…

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3

He'd been obsessively looking at those photos he'd taken of you yesterday every time he could.

It didn't matter if he was at work, or if his wife was right next to him, he needed to take a look at that pretty pussy of yours or he felt like he was gonna go crazy.

He'd always known that once he got a taste of it, it would never be enough, and yesterday just proved him right.

He was so lost in the picture on his screen that your mom's voice startled him.

"what have you been doing on there for 20 minutes?"

Shit

"nothing" he shrugged, quickly switching apps "Just work stuff"

"you sure?" she raised a brow, smiling "There's not another woman I should be worried about?" she joked

Only your daughter

"never" he forced a grin, leaning closer to her on the couch to kiss her.

"good" she nodded, patting his thigh "I'll go shower more serenely then"

He watched as she stood from the couch, and waited until he heard the water running before he quickly made his way to the only place he'd been wanting to go since he came home: your room.

His dick was already hard, so what better time for another lesson?

"Oh, hi daddy" you smiled at him as he closed the door behind him, noticing how he locked it.

You were sitting on your pink bed, resting your back against the headboard while you read a book. A big t-shirt draped over your body and some soft pajama shorts underneath it.

"hi sweetheart" he smirked

"do you need something?"

"no baby, but it's time for another lesson"

He watched you frown in confusion

"but mom's home... and you said you couldn't help me when mom was home"

"I know what I said" he nodded annoyed at your sudden need to ask questions "but I was feeling generous and I wanted to help you now." he explained "If you don't want my help anymore you can just say s-"

And just as he'd predicted, you interrupted him before he could even finish that sentence.

"No, of course I want your help daddy"

"good" he nodded "then come here"

You obliged immediately, setting your book to the side on the bed and standing up to walk over to him.

"take off your shirt" he said once you were right before him.

You did as told, observing his eyes fall to your naked tits, just for his hands to reach them, feeling them as his thumbs played with your perked nipples.

"you've got pretty tits sweetheart"

"t-thank you" you blushed, your eyes falling to where he was touching you.

"Today is gonna be different from last time" he explained softly

"ok" you murmured

Oh how he loved how small your voice got every time

"get on your knees"

Once again, you obeyed.

He looked even bigger from down there, and you felt even smaller.

"now undo my belt and lower my pants"

You swallowed nervously, looking up at him

"go on" he urged

So you did. You took care of his belt, then of his zipper, and then as he said, you lowered his jeans, and they fell, pooling at his feet.

What was now in front of you, was the perfectly clear shape of his dick, hidden only by a pair of thin black boxers.

"take them off"

your fingers seeped through the waistband, and slowly, you took them off for him.

You still hadn't gotten used to it. He was just so big,

how did all of that even fit inside of me?

no wonder I'm sore.

"w-what do I do?" you asked, looking up at him with those innocent eyes of yours.

"spit on your hand, and then just like last time, wrap it around my cock"

You hesitated a moment, before bringing your hand to your lips and summoning some spit from your dry mouth.

You were so nervous your hand was almost shaking as it wrapped around him, and it might have had something to do with his expecting eyes looking down on you.

Your thumb didn't even reach the rest of your fingers, that's how fucking thick he was.

"up and down, like last time" he instructed, clearly getting impatient.

"l-like this?" you asked, gently stroking him.

"just like that baby" he breathed, his hips pushing forward a bit "Now use your mouth"

You tried to swallow some of the sand in your mouth, but all you could think of was how fucking huge he was and how he was never ever gonna fit, and how he was gonna be disappointed of you and-

"We don't have all day sweetie" he murmured

"I-I'm sorry daddy, it's just that... I- I don't know if it's gonna fit"

He stifled a smile as he answered

"we're gonna make it fit sugar, don't you worry your pretty little head about it" he cooed, seeing some of the concern melt from your eyes "Now be good and suck my cock"

You nodded obediently, and just as he'd taught you last time, you widened your mouth and took him in, or better, you took his tip in.

"you can do better than that" he tilted his head, "go deeper"

So you did, you forced him more and more into your mouth until it was halfway in.

Your hands on his thighs balled into fists, and your face started to redden.

"breathe through your nose" he instructed, watching you do it "and hollow your cheeks for me, baby"

You did as told, and a loud breath fled his mouth.

"good girl" he whispered, making that weird feeling in your belly rise all over again.

"now- just like you did with your hand, go up and down"

Your mouth felt already incredibly full, but somehow, as you started bobbing your head, more and more of him started fitting inside of it.

"that's it" he groaned, his right hand moving some hair out of your face and fisting them in a makeshift bun at the back of your head.

You internally smiled at that, and you got so focused on trying to do even better that your eyes fell down to his groin.

"No look at me" he corrected you, using his leverage on your head to pull it back so your eyes were on his again "You look at me when you're sucking my cock"

You blinked in surprise, but before you could say anything he'd told you to "go on" and so of course, you did.

Up and down

up and down

always fitting a tad more

"fuck" he murmured, trying to remind himself that he couldn't show you just how good you were making him feel, but fuck but that was a whole lot

Either he was an amazing teacher, or you were a natural.

"A-am I doing good?" you asked, leaning away, while you tried to catch your breath.

"yeah baby" he breathed, seeing that need for reassurance in your iris

"really?" your eyes lighted up, as a huge smile spread on your lips

"yeah" he cut it short "but sweetie... less talking and more sucking"

"o-oh, right" You let out a soft laugh, slowly taking him back in, but before you could get back to your old rhythm, his hand at the back of your head, had pushed his cock all the way down your throat, making you gag and cough like a maniac.

Your eyes watered, and tears started flowing from your eyes as you looked up at him, confused and a little scared

But all you could see in his eyes was fun.

You looked so pretty choking on his cock...

"it's ok" he murmured, gripping your hair to guide your head up and down like he wanted, "just-" he forced you to gag on him again.

You looked up at him pleadingly as your hands tried to reach where he was holding your hair to try and get him to let go of you without succeding.

"fuck, that's good" he groaned, finally letting you go

You broke into a coughing fit, trying to get your lungs to work normally again, but he didn't even budge, actually, he was sadistically enjoying it.

"wh-why did you do that daddy?" you whimpered, sniffling

"oh baby" he murmured, "If you want Chad to make love to you you're gonna have to learn how to do that" he explained, stroking your wet cheek " Plus, I did it to prepare you for what we're gonna do next"

Your eyes widened slightly

"w-what are we gonna do?"

A grin pulled at his lips

"Now, darlin'," he spoke, "I'm gonna fuck that pretty throat of yours"

"Wha- I"

"shh" he shushed you, placing his thumb on your lips "it's ok" he calmed you down "Relax baby, I'm here, I'm only trying to help you"

"I know but-"

"But what?" he asked, frowning as he looked down at you.

"nothing" you immediately took it back.

"that's right" he nodded "Now open your mouth and stick your tongue out f'me"

And the moment you did... the moment you did, he realized he wasn't gonna last long

"You gotta stay like that ok, you don't wanna hurt daddy, do you?"

"uh-uh" you shook your head, your mouth still open

"such a good girl" he smiled, before gently, (a gentleness that was gonna be forgotten in seconds) he placed a hand on the back of your head, and trusted his hips forward, making you gag softly.

"shit" he breathed, and then, as if he got possessed, he started going faster, and then faster, and then faster again until rivers were flowing from your eyes and the room filled with the filthy noise of your abused thoat.

"f-fuck" he groaned, forcing your head all the way down so that your nose was almost touching his crotch "Look at you... so fucking pretty like this"

You only had the time to remind yourself to breathe through your nose, and then he was already starting to push in and out of your mouth just like he'd done last time but down there.

You enjoyed seeing him breathe heavily and groan in pleasure because of you, so much so that your panties were drenched... but god it was hard to do as he asked.

"choking on my cock like a good little girl" he hissed, his hold on your head only tightening and his thrusts only fastening "Being so good f'me" he groaned "Always so good"

Your jaw was starting to hurt too much, and you just needed a little break, but the moment you tried to speak he stopped you.

"not now" he spoke, his voice hoarse and filled with pleasure "I'm about to cum baby" he explained, "you know what that means?"

You shook your head, eyes wider than ever.

"it means I'm gonna cum in your mouth" he breathed "and you're gonna swallow every single drop of what I give you,"

His chest was heaving, and you didn't think you'd ever seen him that blissed out

"but not until I say so, ok?"

"mh-mh" you hummed around his cock

"attagirl" he bit down his lower lips, trying to keep his grunts and groans down as much as he could "such a good, fucking, girl- fuck"

And looking down at you, ruined completely for him, he couldn't help but let go, filling your mouth up, until you were choking on the liquid and his cock combined.

He pulled out, his dick softening and his breathing calming down.

"show me" he ordered,

You widened your mouth even more and showed off its contents to him

His hand grubbed your chin, tilting your head up more to him, as his fingers kept your mouth open.

His eyes were fully dark with lust as he grinned, stroking your bottom lip.

"Now swallow"

Your eyes never left his as you ingested his salty spent, and the moment you did, his dick threatened to harden again.

Fuck, he should have taken a picture

"good girl, now c'mere" he gestured, inviting you to stand up, which you gladly agreed to

Your knees were killing you.

He tucked himself back into his boxers and put on his pants again, while you stumbled to your feet.

"H-how did I do?" you asked, as he busied his thumb by caressing your pretty lips.

They were all puffy, just like his eyes, and the pleasure he got knowing that he was the reason for it, was unimaginable.

"you did good" he said, making you smile "But not that good" he cooed, lying through his teeth. he honestly didn't think he'd ever come that hard from just a blowjob, " If you want Chad to want to do this, you're gonna have to get better at it"

"o-oh"

"yeah" he winced, faux empathy tracing his tone "you really need some practice" he explained "so I think it's best if we do this once a day at least"

Your eyes widened in surprise

"Once a day?"

"at least"

"y-you'd do that for me?"

"Of course baby" he smiled, before leaving a quick kiss on your lips "what kind of step dad would i be if i didn't help you?"

And at that, you couldn't help but hug him, intertwining your hands behind his neck.

"How are you feeling?" he murmured to your ear, kissing you neck, and forcing a whimper out of your mouth.

"M-my throat's a little sore"

He smirked, softly chuckling "That's normal sweetie, but what I meant was..." he explained, his right hand traveling lower on your body until he was cupping your clothed pussy "how are you feeling here?"

You moaned softly "I-I feel tingly, like last time"

"mhh, that's good" he hummed, inhaling your scent "that's real good sugar, but we don't have time for me to take care of you, so here's what we're gonna do" he said, leaning away, until you were eye to eye "I want you to take one of your pillows and hump it for me"

"h-hump it?"

"yeah sweetheart, hump it until come"

"I-I-"

"it's ok" he stroked your cheek "It's just me"

"Y-you right" You nodded

"that's my girl" he kissed you "and while you hump it real good, I want you to film yourself, and then send it to me ok?"

"why?" you frowned, a little bit confused

Again with the questions

"Because I need to know if you did it right"

Your mouth parted at that, as the realization hit you

He was just too nice

"of course" you smiled "thank you so much daddy"

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r1nstaaa · 10 days

Text

Mingyu x fem!reader

MDNI!!! this ones for u, maya <3

warnings: uh idk sex? raw sex yes. angst if u squint. smut mostly. childhood bsfs to lovers. happy ending bc im too soft sorry. it's my first time writing smth like this pls be nice

should mingyu feel ashamed? ashamed for thinking about how good those tiny hands of yours would feel around his thick cock, pumping him and stroking him while you’re on your knees looking up at him through those oh so innocent eyes of yours? should he feel ashamed for not focusing on a word you’ve been saying for the past 15 minutes, his eyes being glued only to your chest and lips?

it started when you were in high school. you and mingyu had been inseparable, almost as if your souls were created from the same one. he lived next door to you and you would go to his place every time you wanted to do something together. your mom treated him like her own son and his mother had practically accepted you as family. you could never have imagined a life without him. and frankly, you’re not even sure if you’d want to.

it wasn’t until the day that mingyu broke the news to you that you realised it was time to let go. it was time to let go of all the big warm hugs, or the ‘bear hugs’ as your mingyu liked to call them. it was time to let go of all the cheek kisses, all the lingering gazes that you were both too scared to act on. you wished you could have said it. you wished you were brave enough. but you weren’t. and neither was he.

he was leaving for korea in a week and there was nothing for you to do except let go of him.

you wished you could have gone about your life casually after his leave, but it would be a lie if you said you didn’t miss him everywhere. you missed him when you went to the restaurant where you bought him his favourite spicy ramen. you missed him at the park where he made you laugh so hard you almost choked on your soda. you missed the smile on his face every time you told him you hated him for making fun of you. the smile that made you wonder if the stars envied him for the way he could brighten up darkness so effortlessly.

it wasn’t until 6 years later that you finally caught a glimpse of him again.

you were at the airport in korea. you’d managed to fulfill your dream of becoming an architect and had finally gotten a project outside of your country. you saw flashing cameras, paparazzi, and a huge crowd of people surrounding a 6’ something guy wearing a mask and some sweats. you never got the idea of surrounding people as if they’re some god. they’re just people too after all.

you had managed to get through some of the crowd when you reached for your phone in the back pocket of your jeans. you pat it several times just to make sure until you realised something. shit. it was missing.

it was right when the realisation hit you that you felt a tap on your shoulder. you turned around and were face to…chest? god, this man was freakishly tall. you looked up to meet his eyes with yours and it was as if the breath had been knocked out of your damn lungs.

mingyu.

it was YOUR mingyu.

“y/n?” he questioned, almost to himself. he couldn’t believe it. it was you. there were so many thoughts trying to rush their way out of his heart into his mouth that they seemed to all get clogged up in his throat. your name was the only thing that felt right on his tongue.

“gyu?” you questioned back, the look of surprise on your face quite evident.

“you dropped your phone.” he said, his eyes not leaving yours for even a second. almost as if he was afraid you’d disappear the second you left his eyesight.

“i- oh yeah. thank you” you managed to sputter out as you took the phone from his hand. “what are you- what are you doing here?” you ask him. oh god. this was such a dumb question. what was he doing? you knew what he was doing. you stalked his account like a thousand times. you knew he was an idol.

he flashed a smile when he heard this question. the smile that you hadn’t seen in at least 6 years. it was almost as if it was reserved only for you. he was about to answer you when his bodyguards notified him about something that made his smile drop.

“i’ll reach out to you later. i promise.” he said as his bodyguards seemed to rush him out of the airport. you were left there alone with your countless thoughts and overflowing emotions, unable to decipher which one was tugging at you more.

and so, here you were, in your new and surprisingly well furnished flat, all thanks to your sister. you had changed into your tank top and shorts while emptying your bags and setting up your closet. your room was fairly clean by now, even though you were only about halfway done. you had never been a fan of messy surroundings anyways.

right as you were about to put the last pile of your shorts into your closet, you heard your phone ring.

“oh. an unknown number? at 9 pm? isn’t it a bit too late for that? or maybe it isn’t?” you thought to yourself. you figured the culture here at korea must be different.

“hello?” you said, hoping for some sort of an explanation as to who it was.

“hi.” the voice on the other side greeted you. it was almost embarrassing how quick you were to realise who it was.

“mingyu… oh, hi. um, wow. hi.” your voice was shaking already. oh god. way to go, y/n.

“yes, hello.” you could hear his honey laced laughter from the other side. it made your heart melt. “how have you been?”

“i- okay. first of all, how the hell did you get my number?” you asked, a hint of bewilderment in your voice.

“i had it memorised.” you could HEAR the love in his voice. this was so bad. you were doomed.

you didn’t really have anything to say, nor did you trust your words at the moment. you were afraid if you said something now, everything else would spill out uncontrollably.

“why didn’t you call earlier?” your voice was getting shaky. oh no. you knew this was a bad idea. “it’s been 6 years gyu. 6 fucking years.”

‘“i know, i know” mingyu cut you off before you could continue, your words shooting daggers at his heart. he’d always hated seeing you cry. but the pain was different when he was the one making you cry. “i’m so, so sorry. god, i have so much to make up for. please trust me when I tell you there hasn’t been a single day when you haven’t crossed my mind. i know 6 years isn’t nothing. ghosting you was a dick move. i- please. don’t cry. no. god, can i come over?” he asked, picking up on your silent sobs just as well as he did back then.

and just like he used to be back then, he was here at your doorstep to make you forget about everything that ever made you sad. except that this time, he was the one making you cry. he couldn’t ever forgive himself for this, but he could try to atone for his sins, as he’d like to call it.

you weren’t exactly crying anymore, since you’d always been pretty good at regaining your composure. but there was a certain emptiness in your heart, one that you knew only gyu could fill.

you were standing face to face, him panting slightly because of the 7 flights of stairs he’d just conquered.

“hey.” you said.

“hi.” he looked down at you. the longing in his eyes too evident for you to ignore.

“no security this time?” you questioned with a smile on your face.

“ah, no. that was airport security. kind of a formality.”

you nodded. “you’ve gotten so big. i can’t even hug you now.” you said while giving him a faint smile, referring to the dozens of fangirls he was surrounded by and not to mention, the security.

“oh bullshit.” he said as he pulled you into the tightest hug you could have ever imagined. his arms fully caging you in as if he never intended to let you go. and you wouldn’t admit it, but you never wanted him to either.

“i missed you.” he whispered into your hair. “god, i missed you so much. i’m so sorry.”

he spent 3 hours explaining why he couldn’t contact you and what he had been upto without you. after a while, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care about anything besides the fact that one, he did not have a girlfriend. and two, he had changed a lot. appearance wise, that is. he wasn’t the mingyu who had left for korea anymore. he was taller, stronger and undeniably hotter. little did you know, mingyu had been thinking about the same things as you were. when did you get so fucking irresistible? i mean, sure he did have a thing for you back in high school. hell, he hasn’t even been able to get over it for the past 6 years, but seeing you like this, with barely anything on and a newfound confidence which you certainly did not have back then ignited something in him. he didn't know how long it would be until he finally gave in.

and so, here you were. facing him on your bed, talking about some degree of yours, when all he could focus on was the way you licked your lips before continuing, or the way your tits were almost fully out on display for him due to that sad excuse for a clothing item you were wearing. you noticed too. he wasn’t exactly being subtle. the way his knees were touching yours and the way he kept playing with his fingers was driving you insane.

“well, then yeah. here i am now, i guess.” you finished telling him about your life. you were almost completely caught up on each others’ stories now, or so you’d like to believe.

his stare hadn’t once left your lips. you hadn’t really noticed how close his face was to yours until you had finished talking. “gyu” you questioned, your voice almost a whisper. the space between you could be easily closed with just a lean forward from either of you. it had come down to self control now. and lucky for you, mingyu barely had any when it came to you.

“can i?” he questioned, his lips almost on yours. almost.

you responded by putting your lips on his, and his hands immediately snaked around your waist, pulling you onto his lap. his grip on you was so strong, it made you whimper against his lips. you didn’t bother pulling away to breathe, the action seeming a bit too unimportant at the moment. you had other things to do right now. “gyu..” you moaned out as his lips made their way down to your neck. “so sweet. so good. been thinking bout this for so long.” he whispered against your skin, punctuating each sentence with a kiss on different parts of your neck. his hands made their way up your top, making direct contact with your skin. the warmth radiating off of his hands made you melt under his touch.

his hands came up to grasp the hook of your bra as his mouth worked wonders on your sensitive spot. “can i? please?” he asked before unclasping the hooks and discarding the small material of clothing into a small corner of your room. his hands snaked further up your body as he guided your top over your head. he had your tits right in his face now. “fuck… so pretty. shit, all for me?” he asked as he latched onto your right nipple, sucking and licking at the sensitive bud while his hand worked wonders on the left one, pinching at it, making you squirm. “yes.. gyu please. need more. need you.”

“patience baby. been wanting this for so long. gonna make it worth it.” he said as he took his shirt off. god, it was a sight to see. he was gorgeous. the toned abs, the huge biceps, and not to mention, that beautiful face, he was going to be the death of you. “like what you see?” he questioned teasingly, but your brain was too focused on the way his hands were squeezing your tits while he used his mouth to suck and nibble at your collarbones. he stopped all of it to grab your attention, and you whined at the loss of contact. “gonna need answers baby. be a good girl and use your words, hmm?” you moaned out a weak ‘yes’ as a response, but he accepted it out of mercy.

“lie down for me, pretty girl. on your back, thats it” he said as he helped you get off his lap and onto the mattress. his lips travelled all the way from your neck to your breasts, down to your tummy. he placed several wet, sloppy kisses all over your tummy, making sure to mark you as his on any part of your skin that was visible. your neck had already served its purpose as his canvas, his art on full display for any man who’d even dare to look at you. he wouldn’t admit it, but he was completely obsessed with the idea of making you his. god, he wanted you so bad.

his hands found their way to the waistband of your shorts, which he tugged at as a way of asking for your permission yet again. you pulled them off yourself making him let out a groan at your compliance. he was facing your clothed cunt, the wet spot on it embarrassingly evident. he kissed it once, looking up to see your reaction. “does that feel good, love?” he asked as his hand made its way to your core, rubbing light circles on it through your underwear. he was such a tease.

you couldn’t find it in yourself so speak, so you just nodded. this made him stop again. “please baby, i’m gonna need you to use your words, yeah? tell me how good i’m making you feel.” he said as he spat on that damp spot on your underwear, teasing you even further. “mingyu… feels so good.” you managed to moan out, earning a chuckle from him. “see, it wasn’t that hard baby.”

he pulled your panties off, spreading your legs even further and getting down on his knees on the floor as he pulled you towards the edge of the bed. “such a pretty pussy. can’t wait to taste you baby.”

his fingers danced against your clit, tapping slightly in an attempt to tease you. this made you let out a whine. “shh baby. i’m gonna take my time with you.” he said, as he tapped his fingers against your lips, signalling you to take them in. you wasted no time in sucking on his fingers and coating them with your saliva. “such a good girl.”

his hands slid against your folds, the coldness of your saliva mixed with your slick making you shiver. he rubbed on your clit while his other hand was busy playing with your tits. he inserted one finger into your hole, making you gasp.

“shit, you’re so fucking tight. need you wrapped around me.” you felt his tongue lapping against your cunt, the feeling sending you into overdrive. you had your hands in his air, tugging at it for some sort of control. “ah- gyu, please. fuck.” he groaned against your pussy, the vibrations reaching straight to your core. just as you felt your high approaching, he gave your clit one last kiss before pulling away. you felt tears well up in your eyes as you let out a whine at the loss of contact.

“aww baby. ‘m sorry. but if you’re gonna cum, it’ll be around my cock.” such a fucking tease.

he pulled his pants off, revealing his deliciously prominent bulge in his boxers. he was palming his cock while staring at your cunt. fuck.

“shit baby. you’re so beautiful. you want me to fuck you?” he knew the answer. of course he did. he could see you how you clenched around the nothing at the sight of his cock being freed from his boxers. lord have mercy. “yes min. please fuck me.” you managed to choke out. that was all he needed.

he stood between your legs, teasing your entrance with his cock. he slowly rubbed against it, gathering your wetness before slipping it in. the stretch you felt made you moan out loud. the sound was music to his ears. once he was buried inside fully, he waited for you to let him know it was okay to move.

“shit, you feel so good baby.” he groaned, holding back the urge to thrust hard into you and absolutely ruin you for anyone else. but he knew it was too soon. he wanted to savour this moment, feeling your warmth surrounding his cock. he leaned down to kiss you as he began to move steadily, swallowing up all the sounds you were making. “f-fuck gyu, feels so good” you whined against his lips. his hips rocked into you, building up a rhythm. each powerful stroke made your breath hitch, as your nails were busy creating their own masterpiece on his back. he was proud of it too.

his hands were on your waist, gripping it tightly as he thrust into you. he was picking up his pace. he pressed down on your abdomen, making you gasp loudly. “you feel that baby? feel my cock against your tummy? does that feel good?” he asked, his voice hoarse and laced with ecstasy. “y-yes min. i’m close, fuck.” he knew from the way your pussy clenched around his cock that you were close. his rhythm was starting to falter as he approached his own high.

“where’d you want it baby? want me to come on your pussy? gonna look so pretty.” you nodded, barely registering his words. you were so close. “please.” was all you could let out. your breathless plea was enough to convince him.

your eyes squeezed shut as you felt yourself come undone around his cock. a few more thrusts and he pulled out, spilling his seed all over your pussy. he collapsed onto you, placing feather light kisses all over your neck and collarbones.

“i’m never letting you go again, you know?”

“i know.”

“i love you, y/n.”

#seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #mingyu x reader #mingyu smut #mingyu imagines #seventeen #kpop #mingyu x you #mingyu angst #mingyu x reader angst

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