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wannab-urs · 12 hours

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oasis

dbf neighbor! joel miller x f!reader. one shot.

main masterlist | ao3 | kofi

summary: your dad's friend is tasked with looking after you while he's out of town. he ends up finding you somewhere you absolutely shouldn't be. blackmail ensues. 8.3k words.

for @iamasaddie's writing challenge! my genre was dark and the prompt was "please don't tell my dad!" thanks for the amazing challenge! 💌

warnings: 18+ MDNI! dark themes, joel is pervy and sleazy, age gap (reader is under drinking age but an adult so 18-20, joel's age unmentioned but he calls himself an old man and he's 50+ in my head), consensual but there are elements of coercion and blackmail so... (it's dark! okay!), unprotected piv, lap sitting, lap dance, thigh/crotch riding, orgasm denial, pussy pronouns, dirty diiiirty talk, cumshot?, reader has hair that can be pulled and wears lingerie but otherwise is undescribed.

a/n: this is less edited than my usual work but i hope i did it justice! it was very fun and silly to come up with this idea and i ended up loooving how crazy it got!

Keep an eye on her while we’re gone, eh?

The words from your father ring through Joel’s ears when he hears the start of an engine from where he sits in his living room, his view on the plush couch offering a perfect view through the large picture window on the front of the house. Right to where you live with your dad, where he can see the lights of your car come on. Bingo. He’s got you now.

Obsession felt like a strong word, but Joel could describe it no other way as soon as you’d moved in across the street - your dad was a longtime friend and neighbor, talk of his little girl rampant for years before he’d had the chance to meet you. You were going to be going to college nearby, so you moved from where you lived with your mom in California down to your father in Texas, right across the street from where he’d had the pleasure of laying eyes on you for the first time.

Young. Supple. Beautiful. And so damn shy.

He hated just how much it turned him on when your timid eyes would find his. The pervy old man who couldn’t keep his eyes off a young girl - what a god damned cliche he’d become. He kept tabs on you, at first not really realizing he was doing it, eyes peering out the windows to catch you on your way out the door or coming home soon escalated to trying to see into your bedroom window at the front of the house. His time with your father mysteriously seemed to double, then triple, any chance he could to get close to you, see you in your natural habitat, hoping to learn more about this special girl that had captured so much of his attention.

You dressed modestly, too - far too modestly for his liking - he knew your father was a strict man, and assumed just as much about your mother from the way your dad talked about his ex-wife. He never got to see enough of you, except for the few times you had on shorter dresses when the summer heat just got to be too much to bear, and those rare occasions burned themselves into his memory, a bank of images to pull from when he took a hand to his cock and thought of you.

He’s up in a flash, smiling softly to himself as he quickly slides on his shoes and swipes his keys from the front table, exiting the house and seeing your car still parked in the drive. You always sit there too long before driving off, probably playing on your phone, texting your friends, whatever the hell young girls like you do. All Joel knows is he’s grateful it gives him enough time to sneak to his truck before you can get too far, waiting until you pull out and start down the street before starting his own car.

Joel checks the time as he starts down his driveway and sees it’s well after 9:00 pm. Where the hell could you be going, you naughty thing? Your dad has a strict curfew for you, he knows, and if he’s tasked with keeping an eye on you, he might as well do it right.

So he follows you. You get on the highway, heading towards downtown, and Joel’s eyebrows raise as he turns up his music, cruising along behind you, so unaware as he sees the outline of your own head bopping along to your music when he can get a clear enough view.

When you finally park, the city streets bustling with people out late on a Friday night around you, Joel sits in his truck, eyes peeled as he watches you round a building, disappearing. Oasis, the glowing sign on the front says. It looks a bit seedy, this area of town, a bouncer on the outside that you’d given a curt wave to sending Joel’s expression into pure shock before a determined smirk crosses his lips.

It turns out it’s not as exclusive as having a bouncer would make it seem. Joel waits in line with the others, feeling a bit out of place but his appetite to bust you outweighs all of it. Not more than ten minutes later he’s inside, the dark hallway opening up to a massive room laid out in front of him. It’s busy - bodies everywhere, the smell of sweat, alcohol, and arousal permeating everything and Joel blinks to adjust his eyes to the dim mood lighting. A dance floor takes up most of the middle, crowded to the max as music bumps through the speakers, and two bars flank either side, fully packed as well. There are lounges everywhere - cushy leather couches with tables, and as Joel’s vision comes in in full, he sees more private spots along the edges of the room on a slightly elevated area, curtains closing them in.

Too busy taking everything in, he doesn’t even notice the most important detail right away - the waitresses. More specifically, the way they’re all dressed. Gorgeous bodies of all shapes and sizes, parading around in what is essentially lingerie - a lacy black bra paired with a matching set of panties, sheer black stockings and a garter trailing down their legs all the way to the heels that adorn their feet. Joel feels a twinge inside his belly, pulling low and taut when he spots one of the waitresses with thick thighs and a plush stomach grinding on a woman sitting on one of the couches, the receiver throwing her head back in teasing, pleased laughter before taking a long sip of her drink. He continues scanning the room, seeing another man closer to his age being straddled by a different waitress with one of the nicest pairs of tits Joel has ever seen in that same uniform, her hips swaying and grinding so close to his crotch as she gives him a lapdance.

Fuck.

His mind spins faster, blood going hot as it runs through his veins, his cock twitching under the denim of his jeans. It’s been too long - all the pining, the built up frustration, and he’s needy. He finds it hard to believe you’d just be out partying at a place like this, certainly not the neighborly girl he knows. Bringing over leftovers you’d cooked for you and your dad, always with a little treat on the side and a soft smile, your frilly socks and white tennis shoes, collars that never revealed much past the very top of your gorgeous tits. But it still made him fucking crazy, all of it. He wanted to be the one to ruin it, to see who you really are underneath all of the fluff and sweetness. Because at the end of the day, he knows he wasn’t imagining that glint in your eye that told him you had more to offer.

Joel shakes the distractions and his dirty, racing thoughts, eyes scanning the room for you, remembering his mission. He is about to internally ask himself the question when your appearance answers everything he needs to know. Slack jawed, he looks on as you step out from behind one of the bars, tossing a smile over your shoulder at one of the other workers as you start to move carrying a tray full of drinks.

When you emerge in full, strutting your way across the room, you’re wearing it. The outfit. The skimpy bra and panties to match all of the other servers. Your coworkers. Oh, he’s so thoroughly fucked right now, he thinks in a rising panic. But then again, so are you.

“Thank god you’re here! You’re seriously such a life saver,” Kristina says breathlessly as you breeze into the locker room. She’s one of the supervisors here at Oasis, the club you’ve been working at since the beginning of the summer. Sure, you were underage to serve alcohol, but the owners of this club seemed willing to turn a blind eye to a lot of things to gain good talent. Good pay, direct cash, and an insane amount in tips. Enough to pay your way through college, you hoped. Beyond all of that, once you’d gotten into the swing of things you found that you liked it, too. The power you felt in these heels, the way eyes followed you everywhere, you’d never felt so desired, so free or sexually open in your life. Although the only time you’d actually had sex was with your one ex-boyfriend, and it never felt like you do here - sexy, with raw desire filling the air, something so tangible you feel you can reach out and touch it sometimes.

You pull your shirt over your head, unclasping your regular bra and swapping it for the black, lacy one that lives inside your locker. Kristina stands nearby, unfazed by your bare chest as she thanks you. She’d called you about forty five minutes ago, begging for you to come in on your night off when another server, Rochelle, got sick right as things started to pick up. Friday night tips hadn’t sounded so bad when you had no plans apart from watching TV in your dad’s empty house, so it felt like a win.

“No problem,” you say, smiling at her. “Happy to help.”

“You’ve got section five tonight - Justin has Laura covering right now, just switch out when you’re ready, kay?”

You confirm, quickly finishing up your swap into your uniform, admiring yourself in the mirror with a soft smile, still getting used to the look of lingerie on you. You’d have been stupid to keep something like this in the house with either of your parents, not worth the risk if they found out about it.

The noise of the club blares, making you wince for a quick moment as you step out from the calmness of the locker room to the deafening noise beyond and get your bearings behind the bar. It really is busy, but all you can see is money when you glance around, admiring how full the place is tonight.

You’re stopped in the middle of your flow after swinging by the bar to pick up drinks for one of your tables. It’s an extra flirtatious group of men who are practically ready to feast on you, but for all the poorly managed things about this club, they at least have a strict no touching rule with the staff that is enforced by any number of the security guards around. So you get to have your fun, keep your distance, and hope they pay extra for a lapdance from you and tip you well for it.

“You’ve got a, uh, private request,” Justin says, speaking quietly but leaning close to your ear so you can hear him. You pull back, a look of surprise on your face, a questioning glance that he confirms with a nod. “We’ll cover your tables. Room seven.”

Your mind spins faster as you walk towards the room. The rooms aren’t fully private, just a halfway curtain that gives the impression you’re more alone than you are. That luxury doesn’t come cheap, so whoever booked this room and asked for you must mean business. In fact, management hasn’t even put you on serving private rooms regularly yet, reserving that right to the more tenured employees until you work your way up the ladder. You smile, wondering who it could even be that specifically requested you - a regular that loved the banter you’d offered? A new customer who was drawn to you from across the room? It makes your heart skip a little, anticipation and a hint of nervousness coursing through you as you reach the curtain, stepping beyond to see your mystery customer.

Holy shit.

The sultry smile you’d plastered on fades right off your face, replaced with a deep set frown, your mouth open but unable to speak. Your stomach is rapidly dropping to depths it's never known before as your face starts to burn hot, cheeks feeling like they’re on fire. Your arms fly up to your chest, crossing them over as some kind of futile cover of yourself, but his eyes are trained there unashamedly, seeing the way your arms have really just accentuated your cleavage. He’s spread out on one of the loveseats, completely alone, knees wide apart, lap open and desperately inviting when it absolutely should not be.

“M-Mr. Miller?”

Joel was having far too much fun with this. The priceless look on your face that had wiped off the pretty grin you’d had was worth every damn penny he’d spent on this ridiculous room just to get you alone. You think you can cover up, somehow, but it only really offers Joel a better view of your bottom half, the lacy shorts style panties a treat for his weary gaze, the garters sitting against your soft skin one of the most enticing things he’s ever seen. He instantly feels his cock getting hard as his eyes rake up and down your body, settling on where your tits are now pressed together against your crossed arms.

“Mr. Miller?” you stutter out after a long, dense silence between the two of you.

“Don’t cover up on account’a me, sweetheart,” Joel replies cooly, threading his hands together behind his head, looking even more relaxed than when you’d first walked in. Your arms seem to tighten around you, the complete opposite of Joel.

“Wh-what are you -” you start trying to ask, and Joel notices how you suddenly look unbalanced, legs shaking underneath you. You attempt a step forward, bringing yourself further into the room and it gives Joel an even closer look at you, and god damn you’re gorgeous. Your skin looks flawless, so smooth and soft looking - the apex of your thighs coming closer to eye level as you move forward, all adorned by that lace that’s making him wild. He’s never seen anything close to this much of your skin before, and he has half a mind to grab you right here and toss you over his lap, taking everything he wants from you.

“Could ask you the same thing, couldn’t I?” he questions you, enjoying the tease, the way he sees your face screw up a little tighter at the very valid point he was making. You’re caught, and there’s no way around it now, he thinks smugly.

Your face falls, eyes going to the ground and watching your feet shift nervously in your heels. “I-I get it. You made your point. I’ll go home, okay? I know I shouldn’t be here -” you stammer out, and the guilty look on your face tells Joel what he’d already suspected - your dad knows absolutely nothing about this job of yours.

“No, you shouldn’t,” Joel says, but he makes no move to get up, keeping a steady, unrelenting gaze on you. When you flick your eyes up to him, he sees they’re watery, and it makes his insides twinge with a strange mixture of regret and pleasure as he sees the tears brimming along the edges of your eyes, the subtle panic he can see growing.

“You’re bein’ very bad, ain’t ya? ” Joel tuts, and you seem to almost flinch at the words from where you awkwardly stand in front of him still, unsure of what to do, where to go. Joel feels that pleasure growing warm in his gut, knowing he has you right where he wants you. “I mean, look at that outfit, sweetheart -” Joel starts with a low whistle, sitting forward slightly so you can see just how much he’s admiring it, his eyes narrowed in inspection, the weathered lines in his face apparent with the way his brows are raised. “Thas’ a far cry from those clothes you wear on my doorstep, play actin’ a good little girl.”

“N-no! I don’t - I didn’t mean - I am good.” You’re more and more visibly flustered, your arms wrapping around yourself as Joel continues to tease you, intent on bringing you down a few more notches.

Joel gives you a condescending glare. “Darlin’, ain’t nothin’ good about this. Lemme tell you what I think…” He leans back again, staring up at you, not once inviting you to sit, and knowing you won’t unless he does - he wants to make you sweat. “You never got to have that rebellious streak w’ both your parents bein’ who they are, did ya? An’ you thought you deserved it, to have a little fun, didn’t you?”

Your lip quivers and you blink back another set of hot, embarrassed tears, eyes trained back on the dark, faux marble floors, refusing to speak.

“Didn’t you?” he asks again with more bite. Fucking brat. Good thing Joel had plenty of tactics up his sleeve to whip a wannabe brat back into a good girl, he thinks with a sly smile to himself.

“Y-yes! Okay? I wanted to do something… for me,” you finally admit, feeling yourself shake a little at his demanding words.

“Now was that so hard?” Joel asks, becoming acutely aware of just how hard he is, almost painfully so now that he’s been teasing you, fantasizing about this moment for far too long. You shake your head, still hung downwards in shame before bringing your eyes back to his. They look soft, youthful and desperate, and Joel has never felt so turned on in his goddamn life, all the power he’s feeling rushing right to his cock.

“J-just… please don’t tell my dad,” you say, almost quiet enough Joel can’t hear it over the distant bump of the music. But he made it out, the words he’d been hoping you’d say, the ones he knew you’d have to utter.

“I won’t,” Joel starts, seeing the relief flood your face, nearly laughing at how quickly you put stock in his words before even hearing what else he has to say. So naive. “But what’s in it for me, hm? Ain’t gonna keep a secret without a little… incentive.” Joel’s hands plant on his thighs, running up the length of them as he watches your emotions shift in real time, your jaw going slack, eyes widening and barely blinking. You just stutter, completely taken aback and Joel had expected as much - you’re too good of a girl to navigate a situation like this. Good thing he already has his next words planned and loaded up to help you along.

“Laps feelin’ mighty empty, y’know…” Joel muses, leaning back and spreading his palms out on the leather couch next to his thighs. You flash your eyes to his legs, then his face again, mouth gaping open, finally realizing just what he’s asking for.

You can’t believe this is happening to you. You should never have taken this job, kept such a big secret from your dad that you knew he’d absolutely kill you for if he found out. You were technically an adult now, but that didn’t mean you could just throw away his rules while you lived at home with him.

And now you were being blackmailed by his friend. His very handsome friend, but you’re trying hard not to think about that right now. There’s no way he’s serious about this, no way he could actually want this from you? The neighbor girl, his friend’s daughter? Mr. Miller had always been kind, just a bit of a grumpy edge to him but he loved to joke around with your dad. You often caught them laughing together, too shy to have inserted yourself enough with someone who made your skin grow hot just from glancing into his dark, chocolate brown eyes. But without that buffer of your dad, here alone in the dim lighting of the club, it was like he’d become another man.

“Y-you want me to…?” you say, blinking hard as you stare at his thick thighs and crotch, all spread wide open. It’s enticing - normally even with an attractive customer you find yourself thinking of it more as work - fun work, but still work. But with Joel… you’d felt heat pooling between your thighs as he observed you this entire conversation, the desire starting to outweigh the embarrassment you were feeling.

“Paid for it, didn’t I?” he remarks practically, a nip of impatience edging his voice as you swallow hard and step forward.

“Y-you don’t have to… we can get a refund if you don’t want me to do it…” you say, trying to remind yourself not to mumble, but your nerves are getting the best of you.

Joel’s head shakes slowly, his hand drifting out smoothly from his body towards you, tenderly locking on to where your wrist dangles at your side and pulls you closer. Closer. Closer, until he’s pulling you down so that you have to bend down, coming face to face with him. Your cheeks burn, breathing heavy and stunted as the tension in the air thickens, his lips so close to yours. You can’t help but glance at them, the inviting curve of his lips drawing you in, but Joel’s eyes are elsewhere, peering down right between your bodies where your tits are on such display for him, spilling out of the bra at this angle.

“Like I said,” he coos softly, eyes obviously drifting up towards your face, “I need a little incentive to not spill your dirty little secret, darlin’.” A smirk grows on his face before he lets go of your wrist, and you stumble backwards a little.

“Y-you -” you stutter again, trying to counter him, but you come up short. “O-okay…” you mutter with a sigh, taking a deep breath before you hesitantly turn around, facing your back to him.

Joel tuts immediately at your lack of enthusiasm. “None of that, gimme the full show, sweetheart, or the deal’s off.”

You huff quietly, taking a few steps away from Joel, readying yourself. He can see the change in your demeanor already, the more confident strides you take before turning around, facing him again. Then you begin your routine, practiced and ready, pacing towards him with a feline, graceful energy, heels clicking on the floor as you slip one leg in front of the other, heading towards him. You almost hesitate, pushing yourself through the doubt as your hand reaches out, grazing along his shoulder, moving inward towards his collarbone.

Your fingers drag along his chest, where one button of his flannel shirt is open, wishing you could delve your whole hand inside and feel the more than likely gorgeous planes of his chest. Christ, he’s so meaty, so thick everywhere you touch.

A soft rumble escapes his chest before you turn around, grinding your ass downwards and then back up, teasing him by getting a little lower each time. But it’s not enough, he knows you’re holding back, your movements a little stilted and awkward. His cell phone is out of his pocket before he can think much more about it, snapping a photo of the way your ass is grinding down towards him, just enough of your side profile in the photo that it’s undeniably you.

“Come on, know you can do better’n that.” Joel clicks his tongue, making you freeze, hovering awkwardly above him. “Do this for a livin’ lord knows how many nights a week. If you ain’t gonna give me what I paid my hard earned money for I can call your daddy right now… maybe jus’ text him this picture. What d’you think about that?” Joel asks, holding his cell phone forward and into your eyesight. You gasp, hands grabbing for it just as he snatches it away.

“D-delete that! Please!” you cry out, feeling panic squeeze at your chest. Fuckfuckfuck you are so thoroughly fucked right now if Joel has photo evidence.

Joel smiles down at his phone, peering at the image one last time before pocketing it. “No can do, sweetheart. Now, I don’t really wanna have to ask again, yeah?”

You only gape at him for a moment longer before snapping your mouth shut and positioning yourself above his lap again. “F-fine. Jesus,” you mutter angrily, finding that the irritation you’re feeling is starting to spur you on as you begin to move again, feeling yourself turned on by Joel’s musk in your space, the heat of his body radiating towards yours in this close proximity. Not to mention you can sense just how turned on he is, how much this is affecting him as you move with more conviction, hips delicately swinging in front of him. If he wants a show, you’ll give him your best yet, you think with determination.

“F-fuck… attagirl,” Joel lets slip when you brush his crotch with your ass. He’s barely holding it together with your curves swaying tantalizingly in front of him, something even his wildest dreams likely couldn’t have conjured up. He’d never think he’d see you like this - so sensual, so fucking gorgeously in control of your sexual aura that it could make a man lose control. Your customers were beyond lucky, he thinks with a pang of jealousy shooting through him, making his blood boil hotter, his possessive side come out. While he’d been at home pining over you, thinking about you with a hand stroking his own cock, you’d been here - rubbing your pretty ass on all those lucky fucks and their undeserving crotches.

The thought makes him insane, the image of you doing this to any other man, so when you lean back against him, pressing your back to his chest, your ass just beginning to grind on his jeans, his hands go to your hips instinctively trying to bring you down onto him, to claim you. You slow your movements to a stop, leaning your head back towards his ear so that you’re almost entirely pressed against him now.

“Not s-supposed to touch,” you say, you voice the only thing giving away just how nervous you still are.

“Don’t fuckin’ care, if I’m honest,” Joel huffs back quietly, his voice husky and breathless. You bite back a moan as his rough hands wrap around each side of your waist tightly and help guide you that last inch downwards, sending your ass fully rolling over his crotch.

“H-holy shit…” you whimper when you feel the rough denim brush along the outside of your panties. You feel a flush run through you, your skin burning hot as you realize you won’t be able to hide how wet you’ve gotten for very long. It began slowly, just with his brooding, questioning eyes on you, now reaching a fever pitch as you’re in his space and feeling the prominent bulge in his pants.

It’s been far too long since you were satisfied. Truly satisfied.

Your breath catches as Joel fingers wiggle inward a little after hearing how much you’re getting into it, even closer to the waistband of your panties, the two of you facilitating the grinding motion together as you bear down a little more on his lap. Joel lets out a pleased hum, still somehow giving you the sense that he’s the one holding back now. His hands still have an air of respect to them, like they’re vibrating with the need to wrap completely around you and pull you to him, to roam your skin and grab at all the forbidden parts of you.

When the thought flashes across your mind, you realize you want him to.

“T-touch me…” you whisper, immediately clamping your betraying mouth shut as the words float out into the air. You hold your breath, waiting to see if Joel heard you.

“What’s that, gorgeous? Couldn’t quite hear you,” Joel says, his tone a low, mocking sound that tells you he’s baiting you, that he wants to play with his food before eating it. Your eyes narrow before they shut completely, rolling back when he forces your ass to move along his bulge again.

“F-fu- touch me,” you spit out a bit louder. “Please.”

“You poor thing,” you hear him tut from behind you, forcing your hips upwards and away before grasping onto your hands, turning you around to face him. “Can’t get us in trouble now, can we?” he asks tauntingly, his eyes giving you a heated staredown as they widen, almost looking sympathetic if there wasn’t so much of an appetite behind them.

You whimper, visibly whining as your face screws up, squeezing his hands with yours. Joel tugs, so lightly that you’d almost think it was your own idea as you start to come back down towards him, pressing the warmth between your legs against his thigh. You sigh shakily, eyes fluttering shut as you slowly swing one leg over top of his and bear down a little more, straddling his thigh.

“We w-won’t… we won’t…” you breathe out, knowing it’s not the complete truth, but room seven is especially tucked back, hardly getting any traffic. In fact, it was known for bending the rules a bit.

“She’s so needy, huh? You all wet for me, sweetheart, that it? She need a little relief?” Joel taunts, and when you open your eyes to meet his gaze, he’s practically pouting. Your cheeks burn at how desperate he’s making you sound, but your hips twitch of their own accord, sending a zing of pleasure up your spine and you whimper quietly again, giving yourself away even further.

“Y-yes, Mr. Miller…”

“Keep on doin’ your little dance, pretty girl, jus’ right there,” Joel urges you, a hand finding the small of your back, the other locked onto your hip as you start to rock forward, then back again. Relief instantly floods you as your clit brushes against the ripples in the hard denim, making you move harder against him, mouth popped open in fresh ecstasy.

“Close that mouth before I shove somethin’ in it, you fuckin’ tease,” Joel grits out, his eyes burning wildly, finally giving you a glimpse at how affected he is as he keeps his stare on your face, starting to sheen with sweat. Your mouth snaps shut, a stifled moan pulling from your throat and behind your closed lips, threatening to burst out of you.

“This ain’t against the rules? Havin’ a pretty girl ride my thigh?” he asks in cruel teasing, flickering eyes glancing down to where your hips are shamelessly rocking on him.

“I- I don’t - know-“ you choke out, your legs starting to tremble as the pleasure slowly, steadily builds deep inside of you. “I d-don’t care…”

“Riiight, she’s on her rebellious streak now, ain’t she?” Joel mutters facetiously, smiling a devious grin as he watches your face screw up in concentration. You truly don’t care, you can’t care anymore when whatever the hell is going on feels so good. Damn this job, damn Joel’s games, you’re going to get what you need out of this right now, too. Your head is thrown back as your whines and moans escalate, showing Joel just how close you’re getting.

“That’s it, god you’re beggin’ for it, ain’t you? So dirty…” Joel’s hands grip tighter along your hips, starting to drag you inwards, towards his aching, clothed bulge. “Beggin’ for your daddy’s friend's cock while you make a mess all over his thigh, aren’t you? Who would’ve thought a good girl like you’d be wantin’ to get fucked by an old man?”

His words make you clench around nothing, the harsh tone making your insides twist in pleasure as you roll your hips a little faster. “F-fuck… I - I need to - Mr. Miller -” you plead aimlessly, feeling your core tightening, the obscene wetness driving you to full on madness as your pussy aches, cries out for Joel.

Your leg is being dragged over top of him, forcing you to fully straddle his lap, thighs stretched wide and burning at how wide you’re going to accommodate his huge frame. You’re in disbelief at the rough, needy noise Joel makes as soon as your cunt is pulled down onto him, Joel’s hands forcing your hips to start thrusting against him. You nearly lose your balance, wrapping your arms around his neck to hang on as he looks at you with determination. Hands planted firmly on your ass, squeezing hard as he relishes in the feel of finally having you like this, feeling your warm heat seeping through his denim right to where he’s desperate to have you most.

“Joel,” he corrects in his haze, stunting your hips to press down hard on his cock, sending a gasp flying out of your mouth at the sheer size of what’s to come. Your mouth is practically watering, so close to what your body craves now, what it needs. When your fingers graze the button of his jeans, he stiffens, seeming to snap out his lustful fog as he swats your hand away.

“Fuck… later,” Joel says suddenly, using every bit of self restraint to push you back, moving your heat from his bulge, the instantaneous lack of you devastating him to the core.

Your brows quickly knit in confusion at the sudden change in course. “W-why…?” you whisper breathlessly, bringing your lips near his neck, kissing the rough skin, working your way up to his patchy, gray flecked beard. His hand is at the back of your head, yanking you backwards by the hair, tearing your lips off of him in a brutal rush. He holds you there, the pull on your scalp starting to prickle harder as you sit staring at him like a tamed animal being held up by its scruff.

“Can’t fuck you properly in here. Too many fuckin’… people. Prying eyes wantin’ to see what all the fuss is about.”

“I-I can be quiet,” you retort, hating just how much it sounds like begging but the hold he has on you right now is so intense, so inexplicable that you’d say anything, you think.

Joel huffs, a tiny, incredulous snort coming out of his nose. “No, you can’t. Not if I’m doin’ what I plan on doin’ to you. We can’t have anyone come snoopin’, can we?”

You shake your head, suddenly wondering if he’s about to drag you out of here, take you home to his bed, or your bed, you think with a shudder. You feel a pull inside your belly, thinking you just might let him if you don’t get your head back on straight soon.

“An’ you still gotta work the rest of your shift, make your money, don’t you babydoll?” Joel says with a smirk growing, making your face fall completely into a deep frown. “Call it a little punishment for bein’ such a bad, naughty girl, yeah? Then you can finish up givin’ me my piece of the pie.”

You find yourself gaping at him for the umpteenth time tonight in disbelief. He wasn’t going to just leave you… like this? Was he? You can feel your clit pulsing against your panties, your body tense and wound up, on the precipice of coming so hard you saw stars only a few moments ago.

“Up, now,” Joel says, shifting his legs so that you’re forced to move, scrambling up onto your shaky legs, feeling like a newborn fawn getting your footing again.

“W-wait… I already - didn’t I… give you what you want?” you ask, suddenly feeling yourself snapping out of the heady, lust filled haze Joel had you in. This was insane, right? You can’t fuck him, you shouldn’t. It wasn’t right for either of you, and you’d been crazy to have just been this close to letting him stuff you full.

Joel’s head tilts, watching your slightly messy hair and smudged makeup for a few beats with a discerning gaze. “Nah, darlin’, you just gave me what I paid for. This is what I want.”

Your heart and stomach sink to new depths. “N-no. Joel! You said… if I gave you the lap dance you wouldn’t tell my dad. And I gave you a hell of a lot more than that -” Joel stands, interrupting you, coming forward and crowding your space, his hulking mass like a tower next to you, shadowing you with his commanding energy.

“Watch your mouth,” he snips, a hand gripping onto your wrist. “I’m the one callin’ the shots here, an’ I changed my mind once I saw just how pretty that sweet little pussy of yours can be. So here’s what’s gonna happen…” Joel’s fingers come up to ghost along your cheek, trailing down your neck, along the swells of your breasts as he speaks. You can’t help but shudder at the attention, how good it feels on your sensitive, needy skin.

“You go on out there, tell ‘em what a great job you did in here, work the rest of your shift like a good girl, thinkin’ about just how fuckin’ wet you got these pretty panties, how bad she needs a little help from Mr. Miller.”

Your breath is caught in your throat at his words, hitching further as his touch skates further down, sending your hips twitching forward.

“An’ I’ll be waitin’ for you after, darlin’, for what I’m owed.”

Your heart pounds as you slip out the side door and into the alleyway, pausing to let the cool night air wash over you as you gather your thoughts. Your mind is at war with itself, one half of you knowing this is a terrible idea, setting you up for complete disaster in the future. How could you ever face Joel again if you two took it that far? Then again, you weren’t sure how you’d be able to face him in the daylight already, anyways, without your cheeks burning so hot they caught fire. The other half of you was winning, had been winning as you worked the rest of your shift in a complete daze, hardly recognizing your own movements as your body burned hot and needy, mind completely scrambled by the conundrum of your father’s closest friend coming onto you and more.

You spent the rest of your shift coming to terms with the fact that you do want to fuck him. So badly. Even if it’s wrong, a complete mistake in every single way. You also know your mind isn’t to be trusted right now, running on pure horniness and desperation, never having been fucked in the way you know Joel could. His experience, his power, the way his lustful eyes had drank you in like the sweetest balm - it was all too hard to turn down. You turn, looking the opposite way down the alleyway from your car, starting to think you might be able to sneak around the block and get in your car and drive off without him noticing, wondering exactly where he’s waiting for you. You don’t see a soul, hear anyone else in this alley apart from the distant music from inside and chatter from along the main street which is a far cry from where the employee exit to Oasis dropped you.

You take the risk, heart thrumming wildly as you start down the alley, saying a silent apology to Joel in your head, and then yourself for letting this secret come out, knowing Joel was definitely not bluffing if you didn’t follow through on your end of the deal. Better to face punishment from your father than have to deal with the consequences of fucking his best friend and facing the feelings that would come after. You’re only halfway down the alleyway before a warm, rough hand is slapped against your mouth and an arm is draped around your middle and tugging you backwards. A wall of muscle meets you and you whimper loudly behind the hand, starting to yell.

“Shh, shh, no screamin’,” the voice coos, distinctly recognizable. Shit.

“Tryna sneak off on me, huh, pretty girl?” Joel says next to your ear, his neck craning down to breathe you in, groaning. It’s so feminine, so light and soft, the faded scent of your perfume and body wash makes him instantly mad with need for you. His hand slips down, giving your lips some room to answer now that you’ve stopped fighting him, leaning back into his hold a little more.

“N-no,” you choke out, lying. “S-swear.”

“Didn’t change your mind? Want me to send those pretty pictures to your daddy?” Joel coos, starting to walk you towards the brick wall of the building, pushing your body forwards until you’re pressed against the cool, scratchy surface. You hold back a moan when his body leans into you fully, completely dominating you as you��re at his mercy against the wall.

“I j-just d-don’t think we should -” you utter half heartedly, feeling heat rush to your cheeks, fearing what might come next after your suggestion.

“Why’s that?” he asks, dripping with condescension. “Seemed you couldn’t wait to get stuffed full of me not too long ago, yeah?”

“I-it’ll be weird after, w-won’t it? How can we… be around my dad? How can you?” You finally find your voice, your bravery, to ask him the question you’d been thinking the entire night.

A small chuckle blows past the side of your head from where Joel’s mouth sits against your head. “Think we both learned tonight I’m willin’ to keep a secret,” he says, his voice getting more harsh, a needy coarseness to it that sends goosebumps along your skin. Joel feels a frenzy overcoming him when he notices your thighs clenching, how shallow and wanting your breaths are becoming now. He can’t wait much longer… can’t stand the torture he’s endured at your sweet teasing for a second longer.

“I-I want it…” you finally say in a harsh whisper, your resolve faded within seconds. Your ass ruts back into his hardness, an ache that hadn’t subsided in the least in the last hours as he waited for you. Patiently. Like he had already been all of these months.

“You know I’m gonna ruin anyone else f’you, darlin’, don’t you?” he asks as his lips trace along your shoulder, now clad in a tank top that you’d changed back into. The bits of bare skin he touches taste like heaven, feel almost unbearably soft and inviting against his plush lips. He couldn’t possibly deserve any of this, but he couldn’t help but take it, anyhow. He could pay for his sins later. Your neck is next on his list, another supple spot of heaven to taste as he mutters the words again. “Don’t you?”

You just nod at first, dumbstruck by the feel of his lips, turning your head to try to meet them. “Yes,” you tell him softly, knowing it’s the truth, and there isn’t a turning back from this moment anymore. His lips are suddenly all there is, devouring your own whole as he takes in bounds, your tongues and teeth and mouths in a desperate clash, panting into one another as Joel starts to tug at your jeans, fingers flying desperately to tear them down.

You let him.

The second he’s pushing into you, you see bright white flash across your vision - that pulse of pain shooting through the very fabric of your being, your nerves lit up and screaming out from deep inside of you. Joel’s groan is barely audible through the ringing in your ears as he doesn’t stop, finding solace in your tight heat when he pushes himself into you in full. It’s heaven incarnate, you are heaven incarnate, he thinks, practically panting out the words as he feels your wet tightness pulling him in, walls pulsing as you adjust to the sheer volume that is Joel. Your cheek is crushed against the brick, mouth propped open in shock, the rough scrape on your face the only thing keeping you grounded as you whine out a long, wanton sound, something completely foreign to you.

“So… fuckin’... dumb on this cock,” Joel utters as he starts to move, a slow drag of his cock out and back in before he makes good on his promise to ruin anyone else for you, to never have a comparison to the blinding pleasure you feel rocking your entire universe as he quickly ruts into you. “Fuckin’ heaven.”

“J- fuck -” you stutter out, completely speechless. When one arm wraps around you, finding your clit, needy and puffy from hours of torturous edging, everything else melts away. The dark alley, the fact that you could be seen at any moment, the way you weren’t even sure you trusted Joel to keep your secret despite you following through on your end - none of it fucking mattered anymore.

“W-wanted this so bad, y’don’t know what you do to a man, sweetheart… Jesus fuck,” Joel says, uncharacteristically soft as his hips roll, sending your own bouncing onto his hurried fingers swirling along your clit. Desperation clings to the both of you now, hot and heavy air, hurried movements like this could be torn away from the two of you any second.

“Joel… I’m fu- I’m close, so close, please…” you rush out, feeling a pull of warmth at your center, his cock brushing along just the right spot to send you to that edge. You start to moan louder, the noise echoing in the open space around the two of you, your hand hurriedly slapping over your mouth to muffle it as the high starts to rock through you. His name screams from behind your hand, the sound still clear enough to send Joel to a state of crazed fervor, thrusting into you at an impossible pace, sending you bouncing harder against the wall. You twitch and shake, your eyes rolling back as you come harder than you have in months, maybe ever. Just like he’d promised, the absolute bastard.

“Fuckin’ creamin’ on this cock, shit, you’re so fuckin’ wet,” Joel marvels breathlessly as the obscene squelching of your bodies meeting only gets louder. “Oh, good girl, such a pretty, messy slut for a dirty old man, aren’t you?”

“G-god, yes, fuck… I am…” you whimper out with flustered nods, completely spent as you come down from your high, letting Joel use your cunt to chase his own now. You twitch at the overstimulation, your body still tingling pleasantly as he turns you into his own personal fuck toy, your body his for the taking.

“Pretty as a picture, all fucked out like this,” he says slyly one hand planted on the wall next to you now, the other playing lazily with your aching clit. “Never gonna be able to give me up now, are you?”

You shake your head, lost in the moment with your answers as you feel another orgasm washing over you, less intense but still pleasant waves of pleasure rolling through while you gasp for breath, completely full of Joel each time he thrusts heartily into you, stealing away your air.

“Please… c-can’t…” you mumble through your climax, hardly able to take the stimulation anymore but knowing the sick little part of your brain is happy to do it for him, let him use you until he’s completely spent himself.

You don’t have to wait much longer for your wish, hearing Joel grunting, almost whimpering when he’s suddenly gone from you with a wet, slick pop, leaving you cavernous empty. He barely makes it out of you before his hand grips his cock, twitching in his palm as he comes towards the ground right in between your legs, ropes of cum coating your pulled down jeans and underwear, the brick wall, the pavement below you. His forehead is pressed to your back, sticky and hot as he catches his breath for a silent beat.

You’ve never felt anything like this, this satisfaction, this pure unadulterated filthiness and pleasure. The addiction already grips you, your poor, sore cunt already anticipating the next time he could ruin you.

But then it hits you like a train, pulling you out of your reverent little bubble - this can’t happen again. It’s out of your system, out of his, and now you both have a secret to keep. You start to pull your pants up, the movement seeming to bring Joel to his senses, reaching down along with you.

“Sh-shit, here, let me,” he says in a rasp, tugging your jeans up, the immediate feeling of wetness sticking to your body and making you cringe. “Little souvenir for ya,” he comments cockily, knowing his cum is now sticking to your skin, knowing that thought will sustain him for at least the next few hours. But that’s wishful thinking, he realizes, knowing that he could find himself buried in you the entire night, over and over again, considering hauling you away to do just that when you interrupt his thinking.

“I- I’m sorry…” you mutter, not even fully sure of why you even say it. For some reason, you are sorry that you put the two of you in this position, even if it ended in something so incredible that you have a hard time even putting it into words.

Joel spins you to face him, thumbing your chin and pinching it, bringing your face to look him in the eyes. They look a little softer than they had inside the club, more like the neighbor you’ve come to know. So charming and disarming when he wants to be.

“Don’t be,” he says, leaning down to kiss you more gently than he had before, something tender and sweet that you find yourself immediately falling for, body melting into his as you hang your arms around his neck, wondering when along the way you started feeling so comfortable with this.

“Besides,” Joel adds, a devious smirk pulling his lips upwards. “Your daddy ain’t home for a few more days. Think we can find a few more ways to convince me to keep your little secret.”

#gin’s hiatus tbr

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wannab-urs · 12 hours

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zero capacity to read fic rn but im reblogging fics my friends put out when i see them. i’ll go back and read them… eventually.

#gin shut up #gin’s on hiatus

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wannab-urs · 12 hours

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Fantasy Turned Reality

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x F!Reader

Part two for A Twisted Fantasy

Main Masterlist | Cooper Howard Masterlist

Summary: The Ghoul finds you in the woods and punishes you for not running far enough.

Word count: 831

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, uneven power dynamic, oral sex (M receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, irradiated creampie, spanking, pet names (sweetheart), praising, no use of y/n

You were so tired from all the running you did that you fell asleep in the same position; with your hand down your pants. But you didn’t even realize it until a stern voice shook you awake.

“Thought I told you to get the fuck away from here.”

You startle awake and lock eyes with the Ghoul, gulping as he cocks his head to the side, smirking at you menacingly. His eyes leave your face and trail down to the hand in your pants, chuckling as he asks, “What do we have here?”

“Nothing,” you quickly sputter, hastily trying to pull your hand away. But he stops you, his hand enclosing around your wrist.

“Not so fast. There’s three dangerous men after you and you’re worried about playing with yourself in the fuckin’ forest.”

Shamefully, you nod, looking away from him.

His other hand grabs your chin, directing your gaze back to him. “Eyes on me, sweetheart.”

A shiver runs down your spine and the wetness in your cunt grows. Your fantasy may finally be coming to life.

“What were you thinking about?”

“…You.”

“Figures,” he tuts. “I can help you out regarding your little… situation. But first I think you need to be punished.”

“For what?!”

“For not running far enough away, sweetheart.”

He lets go of you, sitting on a large rock a few feet away. His thighs are spread wide in an inviting stance, leaving you aching to sit on his lap. He palms the bulge in his pants.

You sit up, jaw going slack at the sight of him sitting there. Your mind still can’t comprehend that this is actually happening.

“You know what to do,” he says, motioning for you to come closer.

You scramble to your feet, walking over to him and dropping to your knees. You’re face to face with his bulge, salivating at the thought of taking him in your mouth. He reaches out and caresses your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

“Be a good girl for me.”

You nod and reach for the fly of his pants, letting his cock spring free. You take him in your mouth and wrap your hand around the base of his shaft. He curses under his breath, moving the hand on your face to the back of your neck. You look up at him, locking eyes with him as you bob your head up and down. His salty pre-cum leaks in your mouth, mixing with your saliva and making this blowjob wetter and sloppier by the second.

“Fuck, that mouth of yours, sweetheart. It’s perfect.”

You hum in response, sending a vibration down his cock and a shiver up his spine. He curses again and his grip on the back of your neck tightens. You feel him grow harder in your mouth and feel pride in how much you’re pleasing him. You know you can escalate it further so you take your other hand and reach for his balls, cupping them slightly as you work him to the edge. Your eyes remain locked with his, putting on a show for him like such a good girl.

His balls tense up in your hand and you sense he’s at the edge of orgasm. But before you can take him there he cups your face and pulls his cock out of your mouth.

“Wanna come inside that sweet pussy of yours,” he says.

You eagerly stand up, shedding your clothes and waiting for further instructions. He remains where he is and pats on his lap, telling you, “Take your throne, sweetheart.”

You straddle him on the rock and lower yourself onto his cock, feeling it expand your walks. One of his hands holds your waist while the other gravitates to your ass. He gives you a firm spank and says, “Better get to work,” coaxing you to rock your hips back and forth.

You grind yourself against him, placing your hands on his shoulders. His cock hits the deepest, most perfect angles inside you. And he watches with pleasure as you fuck yourself on his cock.

With one last movement of your hips you come undone around his cock, moaning out into the nighttime air. He spanks your ass again as you cum until the sensation draws his own orgasm from him.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he praises.

His cum paints your walls and finishes his orgasm with a grunt until his cock eventually goes soft inside you. Reluctantly, you pull yourself off of him and sit beside him. He turns to look at you with a grin and says, “Don’t worry, you won’t get pregnant. But I bet you knew that already.”

You nod, still breathless from your high. He returns his cock to his pants and stands up. With a hand on his hip he says, “Now, don’t let me catch you around these parts again.”

And with that, he leaves you naked and alone in the forest, with his cum dripping down your thigh.

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics

Dividers: @saradika-graphics

#fic recs #the ghoul fics #cooper howard fics #kel <3

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wannab-urs · 12 hours

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A Twisted Fantasy

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Cooper Howard Masterlist

Summary: You masturbate while thinking about your encounter with the Ghoul.

Word count: 750

Warnings: reader refers to him as the Ghoul, reader is able-bodied, Cooper might be a little OOC but fuck it we ball, masturbation, allusions to smut, pet names (sweetheart), light canon typical violence, no use of y/n

Late at night, under the cover of the trees and the night sky, you think about him– the Ghoul.

You don’t know his name. But you don’t need to. All you know is that ever since you saw him weeks ago, you haven’t been able to stop thinking about him. It’s an unfortunate chain of events. You had pissed off the wrong crowd in Filly, owing them bottle caps you most definitely didn’t have.

And for that, a bounty was placed on your head. That’s when the Ghoul came into your life. But only for a fleeting moment.

You were walking the streets after dark, already a bad idea. A hand enclosed around your wrist as you were dragged into a dark alley, followed by the barrel of a gun pressed against the back of your head.

“It’ll all be over real soon, sweetheart. Be a lot easier if you didn’t resist either.”

“Please no-” you started to beg.

“I’ll have you know.. they didn’t care if you were brought in dead or alive.”

“Sir, please. I don’t have any bottle caps. I can’t-”

He spun you around you were facing him. His appearance didn’t scare you. You had encountered Ghouls before. But he was different.

He had a voice so sultry it made you melt, knees buckling underneath you. The brim of his hat hung low, covering his eyes. You were backed up against a wall, cool metal chilling your burning skin. A weird mixture of fear for what’s come and arousal coursed through your body. His gun moved to your temple while his other hand pinned your hands above your head. Fuck.

Tears welled up on your lash line, threatening to spill over. It wasn’t long before they finally rolled down your cheeks in an unstoppable flow.

“Please, sir. I don’t have anything.”

“Nothin’?” he asked, his eyes finally meeting yours as he cocked his head to the side.

You shook your head no, crying harder at the feeling of his gun against your head.

He looked conflicted, eyes betraying the words he was saying.

“Look, sweetheart… A job’s a job.”

You cried and stuck out your lip, hoping and praying for a shred of mercy. You’re a crying, pathetic mess and maybe he’ll sense that. He sighed and cursed under his breath, looking away from you and at the ground instead.

“I suppose I could say you ran off… That I need to track you down again…”

“Really?” you asked, your face lighting up.

“Maybe but only if you do exactly as I say.”

“Anything,” you nodded as he lowered his gun.

“Run as far as you can away from here,” he said, letting go of your hands.

You waited for further instructions but he shouted, “I said run!” shooing you off. “Unless you want me to change my mind.”

“No, sir!” you squeaked, running as fast as you could out of Filly.

You were thankful he spared your life but for some reason, you couldn’t get him out of your head. You replayed every time he called you sweetheart in your mind. It didn’t help that he looked just like a fucking cowboy, accent and all.

And now here you are, fingers deep in your cunt, thinking about the Ghoul. You wish he were here right now, watching you please yourself. Or better yet… you wish he were making you feel good instead.

You imagine he’d talk you through it, praising you for being such a good girl, telling you how good you take his fingers or his cock. You think about his pleasure and how long it’s probably been since he felt any. You’d take care of that for him, making him curse under his breath like he did that one night in the alley. You’d do anything he wanted if it meant he’d call you sweetheart again.

God, how twisted is this? You’re fantasizing about a mutant who had the power to take your life right there and then. But that adds to the allure, to the fantasy. You’d pretend to be his bounty any day of the week, letting him whisper in your ear as he fills you up.

Before you know it, you cum around your fingers. Waves of pleasure rush through your body as you bite your lip to muffle your moans. The disappointment of the situation settling in now. The Ghoul’s not here and you’re alone. You roll over and sigh, silently hoping that maybe, just maybe, you’ll cross paths again one day.

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics

Dividers: @saradika-graphics

Part two

#fic recs #the ghoul fics #cooper howard fics #kel <3

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wannab-urs · 12 hours

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Stonecatcher

Chapter Two: It's Strange What Desire Will Make Foolish People Do

Din Djarin x OFC Athalia (Second Person POV)

Artwork: The Lovers by René Magritte Gif: @cherubispunk Series Masterlist | Series Playlist | Din Djarin Masterlist

Series summary: An up-and-coming bounty hunter and a promising arms dealer cross paths on Dantooine. What starts as a business relationship quickly becomes more. How long can you bury your emotions and be a stonecatcher for someone else before you finally snap?

Series warnings: pre season one of The Mandalorian, instant smut but slow burn romantically, Athalia is able-bodied but other than that has no physical description, angst

Chapter summary: The Mandalorian returns, leaving with more than just a blaster, of course.

Word count: 2.7k

Chapter warnings: finger sucking, dirty talk, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie

It’s been a few weeks since you’ve seen the Mandalorian. You remember that night fondly but not because of the sex. No, you remember that night fondly because of the sale you made. It was your first sale to someone not local to here. While it was only an eight-credit sale, you had to start somewhere.

Business has been doing good, though. For some strange reason, Casia has seen an influx of travelers lately. The inn has no vacancy and the cantina is busier than ever. Sheva’s been working more hours to accommodate the boom in customers, which leaves you to your own devices. And while you do miss spending time with her you also haven’t had much to think about it. With the amount of people passing through you’ve been able to make even more sales, and gain more inventory. Mando was just the beginning.

To capitalize on all of the business Casia has been seeing, the cantina is having an event tonight. String lights hang from the roof and tables are set outside. It’s a bit of a risk having the outside by the river instead of inside the cantina. But it was all intentional.

You’re helping Sheva put wildflowers in vases for the party, sitting at a table by the water's edge. It’s golden hour and the party is set to begin at sundown. It’s the first quality time you’ve had with Sheva in a while and she’s catching you up on her escapades over the past few weeks.

“I told him to meet me out back after my shift was done,” she says, putting together another vase.

“Well, did he?”

“He did,” she says suggestively.

“You never told me what he looked like.”

“What does it matter? He’s long gone now.”

“Was he a Twi’lek?”

“Maybe…”

Maybe it’s the scenery and or the fact that you’re reconnecting with her, but either way, you’re feeling grateful about where you are for once. It almost feels like everything is falling into place on its own time.

“You and your Twi’leks,” you joke, getting up and setting a vase on each table.

“Oh yeah?? How about you and your Mandalorians,” she retorts.

“That was one time.”

“You never told me how that was by the way,” standing up from her seat and placing a hand on her hip.

“I didn’t?”

“No, you just told me that he bought a scope and then you had sex.”

“That’s basically what happened.”

“…But how was it?” she says.

“Hot… but also kind of awkward. That’s usually how one-night stands tend to go,” you say, setting a vase on the last table.

“And you’re okay with that? I didn’t take you for a one-night stand type of gal.”

“I mean… I’ll never see him again.”

She’s standing in front of you, the river behind her and the wind catching her hair. She doesn’t respond to you right away, looking past your head and wearing a smirk.

“What is it?”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Sure about what?”

“Turn around.”

You glance over your shoulder to find him, walking towards you. The sunset reflects off his helmet and the scene is almost… surreal. You were just talking about him and all of a sudden he appears. It’s like a scene straight out of a romance novel.

Until he opens his mouth.

“I went to your house and I couldn’t find you. I need something else.”

“…Okay? What is it that you need?”

“A blaster.”

“Alright…” you say, turning back to Sheva, “I’ll be back later, I guess.”

“Have so much fun,” she says smugly, waving at Mando.

You walk back to your house side by side, silence hanging in the air which leaves you with your thoughts.

Why is he here?

Dantooine is on a trade route but the planet itself is out of the way and so is Casia.

“Why are you here?” you ask.

“I already told you. I need a blaster.”

“You can’t get that anywhere else?”

“Are you saying you don’t want my business?”

“No, I’m not saying that at all. I’m just wondering why you came here specifically. Where are you from?”

“Currently I’m on Nevarro.”

Maker, that’s far. It doesn’t make sense for him to come all this way for a blaster.

…Unless he came here for other reasons.

You think back to the one-night stand and while it was a little awkward it was still hot. Maybe he feels the same way.

“That’s quite a ways away from here, Mando,” you point out.

“Your prices are fair.”

“Right…” you say, opening your front door.

Luckily, the smell of gas has dissipated over the past few weeks. Not that it mattered to him. But if this encounter is going to end like the last one, it’s nice to not have to smell that while Mando’s pounding the living daylights out of you.

Your front room is crowded, filled with boxes and all sorts of weapons lining the walls. He looks all around the room, not sure what to focus on first.

“I’ve… accumulated a lot more stuff since you’ve been here.”

“I see that,” he says.

“What kind of blaster are you looking for?”

“Standard pistol.”

“Gotcha,” you say, searching one of your shelves. You find one he might like– black with a tiny amount of silver. You grab it off the shelf and turn around to show him.

“How’s this one?”

“Perfect. How much.”

“Four hundred credits.”

“Not a bad deal,” he says, taking it in his hands. He examines the blaster carefully, the orange fingertips of his gloves running up and down the barrel. His hand wraps around the grip with his finger ghosting the trigger. He aims it at the wall, and for some reason, this is doing something for you. Is this how he felt when he watched you clean his rifle?

“Feels good?”

“Feels good,” he affirms.

“Okay…” you start as he attaches it to his belt, “Do you need anything else?”

“Actually,” he says, helmet snapping back to you, “Do you have any of that… oil you used on my rifle?”

“Wow. Are you actually going to clean your shit?”

“…Yes.”

“You don’t want me to do it for you?”

He shifts his weight between both feet just like he did the last time he was here, fidgeting while he thinks of a comeback. But his mind draws a blank. Instead, he sighs and says, “Just get on your back already.”

Your mouth falls open but you can’t let him know of your bewilderment. So you quickly say, “Thought you’d never ask.”

You turn on your heel and lead him to your bedroom, swaying your hips as you walk. He wastes no time, grabbing you by the waist and pushing you down on the bed. You help him out, pulling off your underwear for him. He hesitates for a moment and you just assume it’ll be the same as last time, you spit into your hand and he shoves his cock inside you.

But this time he stands by the bed, hands on his hips, and says, “Get up.”

“…Okay?” you say, wondering where he’s going with this.

He grabs your waist again and turns you around so your back is towards him.

“Bend over,” he growls in your ear.

So that’s how this is going to go.

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” you say, bending over your bed for him and turning your head to the side, cheek resting against the mattress.

He hikes up your skirt and caresses your ass with his gloved hand. Just when you think you know how this is going to shake out, he surprises you.

He tosses his glove beside your head and it takes a second for you to register that he took his glove off. Your mouth falls open and he mutters, “Good girl.”

He leans forward, bending over you, and says, “Close your eyes.”

You do as you’re told, closing your eyes while his gloved hand grips your chin, keeping your mouth open while he places two fingers inside.

“Suck,” he commands, closing your mouth shut around his fingers.

Kriff, that’s hot.

You swirl your tongue around his fingers, putting on an obscene performance. And although you can’t see it, he cocks his helmet to the side, watching you act like such a good girl for him. Once he decides you’ve done enough, he pulls his fingers from your mouth. You make sure to keep your eyes closed as you anticipate what he’s going to do next.

His fingers tease your entrance, softly playing with you until he slides both of them inside you. You gasp at the sudden girth, taking a second to get adjusted.

“If you can take my cock, you can take two of my fingers,” he reminds you, curling his fingers against your walls.

“I-I know,” you breathe out, voice high pitched.

He’s incredibly skilled with his fingers. You’re already on your way to your first orgasm. It makes sense since he can’t take his helmet off. And you’re certainly not complaining.

The tension built up in your core spills over and your release gushes out of you, running down your thighs. Waves of pleasure course throughout your body and you’re shocked at how soon he got you there.

He pulls his fingers from you, grabbing your shoulder with his other hand. You feel his cock enter you, splitting you open and leaving you writhing. His other hand grabs your waist as he fucks you like you’re nothing but a toy to him, an object made for his pleasure. Except the way he fingered you tells you otherwise.

You’re too cock drunk to formulate a coherent thought about that. Instead, you focus on the immense pleasure you’re feeling. Everything from the tips of your ears to your toes feels like they’re set aflame, mind going fuzzy with nothing but thoughts of him.

“That’s right. Take my cock like a good girl,” he says, voice all sultry and modulated.

You whimper in response, the words you were going to say caught in your throat and coming out as mangled sobs. His grip on your shoulder tightens, holding you in place as he rails you. Stars dance in the black backdrop of your closed eyes, tears would surely spill over if you opened them. But he said to keep your eyes closed and you intend to listen to him. He didn’t ask you to do that last time. Could it be because his glove came off? Because he revealed his skin? You’ve seen his cock but for some reason his hand is off-limits. How strange. The added element of anonymity during a time so intimate excites you. It only makes you grow wetter; more aroused.

Before you know it, you’re coming again. This orgasm is deeper and stronger than the first one, all thanks to his impressive size. Your cunt clenches and releases his cock in a way that triggers his orgasm too. He holds you steady as he spills his cum inside you, a feeling you didn’t know you missed in his absence, a feeling you didn’t know you’d ever experience again.

He pulls out of you when he’s done and it isn’t until you feel him sit on the bed beside you that you open your eyes. His glove is back on his hand and he sits with his thighs spread wide, a space that looks so inviting to sit. He takes a moment to rest after the energy he just exerted before rising, waiting for you to pull yourself together.

You stand before him, smoothing down your skirt while looking at anything but the visor of his helmet. He stands stiff as a board, hands balled up into fists at his sides. A thought crosses your mind. You could ask him to join you at the party at the cantina. It seems kind of pointless considering he can’t eat or drink in front of others. And he doesn’t seem like one for dancing.

But you want to ask him just so you can be seen out in public with him, other than bringing him to your house. That feels a little insane, a little possessive even. You’re not in any sort of relationship. You’ve only had sex twice now. And you’re developing an inkling of feelings. This can’t be good.

Come on, Athalia. You can ask him.

“What are you doing now?”

“Probably heading out soon.”

“I was just wondering if…” you trail off.

He tilts his helmet, looking directly at you. You finally meet his visor, taking a deep breath and asking, “Do you want to come to the party at the cantina tonight?”

“That’s a nice offer. But no thanks.”

“That’s okay…”

He turns to leave but you can’t let him go just yet.

“Wait! Can I ask you something?”

“What is it?”

“Why did you come all the way here? You could’ve gotten that blaster anywhere.”

“Your prices seemed fair. It looks like it was worth it, too. Your inventory has grown.”

“Right… Let me get you that cleansing oil before you go.”

You slide past him in the door frame, heart fluttering at being so close to him yet again. His visor watches you the whole time and you imagine it’s still fixated on you as you lead him to the front room. You open the cabinet and grab the cleansing oil while he fishes for the credits in his pocket.

“How much?”

“Ten for the oil.”

You turn around and hand it to him. He places the credits for both the blaster and the oil in your hand, nodding at you with the slight tip of his helmet before walking to the door.

But he stops himself before he leaves. He turns around and says, “I never got your name.”

“Athalia.”

“Thanks. I’ve got some contacts looking to come this way but I wasn’t sure who they should be asking for.”

New customers.

“That’s nice of you!” you say, fiddling with your hands, “I guess you could call it… Athalia’s Arms.”

“Athalia’s Arms… Got it. I’m sure we’ll meet again,” he says, before opening the door and setting off into the night, cape billowing in the wind.

He claims he was just here to buy something but… Could that be a lie? Is he feeling an inkling of something more like you are? He did turn down your offer to go to the party tonight but if it were really just about the blasters, wouldn’t he have gotten that literally anywhere else? Coming here must’ve cost him so much in fuel.

Maybe just maybe there’s something there, crossing the line between a business owner and customer relationship, turning into something deeper and more meaningful.

That’s exactly what’s happening. Because deep down you’re a little butthurt that he didn’t say yes to the party, that he didn’t even stay with you for a little bit after the sex.

You shouldn’t care. He’s just a client, just a customer… Right?

Wrong, he was never just a customer. He was always something more and he’ll remain something more if you don’t put a stop to it before you only get yourself hurt.

You need to talk to Sheva about this, so you decide to pop back into the party alone. It’s well past sundown now and it makes you wonder how long you were with Mando. There’s a breeze in the air that leaves goosebumps on your skin and there’s not a single soul around.

As you get closer to the cantina you see that… the party’s over. Everyone has left.

For once, you don’t want to be alone and yet it’s like the universe is forcing you to. Sheva’s either at home sleeping or hooking up with someone from the party. And Sulee has been in bed for hours at this point.

You sigh and turn around to head home, head hanging low while you’re left to reflect. He crossed the galaxy to buy a standard blaster and to bury his cock inside you. And that just has to mean something.

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics

Tag list: @wannab-urs @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @freelancearsonist @djarins-cyare @survivingandenduring @littlegrungegirlaf @pamasaur @chiyo13 @pedrostories @schnarfer @burntheedges

#fic recs #din djarin fics #kel <3

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wannab-urs · 12 hours

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So I was trying to not let it come to this but it appears the brakes on my car are to the point where they need to be fixed asap. I work two jobs and have to provide transportation for my younger siblings and my mother who’s visually impaired.

My dealership said they’re not under warranty anymore and that it’ll cost $450 to fix them.

I’ve set up a Ko-fi which you can find here. I feel really weird asking people for money and not giving anything in return so if you’d like you can request a graphic (you can see examples of my work here) or a drabble between 500-1k words.

Thank you in advance friends 🤍

#signal boost #help kel out if you can ❤️

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wannab-urs · 17 hours

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[Sin]ema- ex fiance!Frankie Morales x fat! female reader

Main Masterlist | Frankie Morales Masterlist

Paring: ex husband!Frankie x fat/curvy/plus size! female reader

Summary: You are unhappy in your marriage but trying to hang on. When you ask your husband to spend more time with you, he thinks a movie date is in order. You don't expect to run into your ex fiance, Frankie, and his new wife there.

Rating: E for EXPLICIT MDNI 18+

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: infidelity, unprotected PIV, oral sex f!receiving, creampie, body insecurity, smoking- there are a few things I'm not tagging so as to not spoil them but they are tame.

Notes: I wrote this a while back in response to that dumbass anon and for some reason I just totally forgot about it!

When you told your husband that you wanted to spend more time together, this isn’t what you had in mind. You were hoping for something more like dinner. Out at a restaurant or a quiet night in, it didn’t matter to you. You just wanted to talk. Something your husband has no interest in. As evidenced by the fact that he brought you to the one place you couldn’t talk for your date. Some days you find yourself wondering if this is all you’ll have to look forward to for the rest of your life.

You only married him because that was the logical next step. Your whole relationship was just one milestone to the next, as dictated by the expectations society has set for you. Especially for women who look like you. Growing up in the 90s meant you were bombarded daily by the “heroin chic” look that was on the cover of every magazine. You could count the ribs of the models. By the time you hit high school, you had already been taught, however indirectly, that you weren’t pretty enough. There was too much of you. The fat girls in all the rom-coms were always the comic relief. The one someone had to “take one for the team” with. The one who had to settle for what she was given.

To be fair, your husband never made you feel this way. He was genuinely interested in you. In who you are as a person. But somehow, it always felt like he loved you in spite of. Sure, you were what people would politely call “chubby,” but he loved you anyway. You had learned to love yourself years ago. Not in spite of your body, but because of it. Stretch marks, cellulite and all. You probably wouldn’t even know the difference between someone loving you just the way you are, and someone loving you anyway , if it hadn’t been for Frankie.

Frankie had been the first man to see you for exactly who you were. Not someone who he could love if you just lost those twenty little pounds. Not someone he could diet and exercise you into being. Just you. And goddamn had he loved you. Every inch. Every roll. Every stretch mark. He reveled in the softness of your body. He worshiped at the altar that lay between your plump thighs.

But, such things weren’t meant to last. You were engaged to be married, but something happened to him after his first tour overseas. When he came home he wasn’t the same man he had been before. He didn’t laugh as much. His eyes had a far-off look to them. As if he wasn’t really present anymore. He fucked you with an urgency, a fervor, that he never had before. Held on too tightly. Almost like you’d float away if he didn’t. Or he would, you were never really sure which.

When he came home from his second tour he called off the wedding. Told you that you deserved better. He didn’t believe you when you said there was nobody better for you than him. When you think about what your life has become you almost want to say “joke’s on him.” Is it really, though? Perhaps the joke has always been on you.

It feels strange to think of him after all these years, seemingly out of the blue. Especially since, or maybe because, you are concerned about the state of your marriage. You’d heard he got married a few years ago. You wonder if he ever thinks of you. Finally, it's your turn to hand your tickets to the theater employee. You don’t even remember the name of the film you are seeing. Some action movie you have no desire to actually watch. At least the previews will be good.

You walk silently, hand in hand, with your husband to the concessions counter. You wait in line, shoulder to shoulder, without so much as a word passing between you. When you get to the counter he orders for you, a small drink and popcorn each. When you get your snacks and turn to head for the theater, you are struck still. There he is. Right in front of you. Frankie.

Even with the hat, you’d know him anywhere. Standing next to him, with her arm threaded through his, is one of the most gorgeous women you have ever seen. Their heads are bent together in laughter. He was always funny. The diamond on her finger reflects the bright lights of the theater lobby. You had played sick and stayed in your bed for three days when the news reached you that he had gotten married. You had found yourself wondering, what does she have that I don’t?

Now, standing before them, you think you might know. She’s all the things you knew you would never be. As much as you hate to think it of him, maybe this is the reason he called off your wedding. You didn’t even know he moved back. Your husband tugs your arm, pulling you from your thoughts. Just before you turn to walk away, Frankie’s eyes snap up and lock on yours. They widen in surprise and his mouth opens in a soft ‘o.’

You move to walk away, intending to ignore his presence altogether, but he speaks your name. It’s so quiet you almost think you imagined it, until he repeats it, a little louder this time. Your husband nudges you with his elbow and gives you a curious look. Yo know you probably seem like a fucking idiot right now but you just can’t seem to make your mouth form words.

Frankie catches on quickly and holds his hand out to your husband.

“Hi there, Frank Morales.”

Your husband’s eyebrows fly towards his hairline as he recognizes the name, and its significance. He extends his hand to return the gesture. Frankie gestures towards his wife and introduces her as well, though you forget her name the second he says it. You shake her hand politely, giving her a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. She doesn’t react to your name the way your husband did to Frankie’s. Maybe he never told her about you. Maybe you’ve made the whole thing out to be more serious than it ever was. Than he ever was. You nod along to the small talk you aren’t actually listening to. You can’t hear anything over the pounding of your heart inside your ears.

Your husband shakes Frankie’s hand again and waves to his wife. You give her a slight wave and lock eyes with Frankie once more. There’s a sad look in his eyes and just maybe, a flash of regret. The corner of his mouth turns up in a small smile as he puts his arm around his wife’s shoulder and heads in the opposite direction.

Once settled into the packed theater, you are thankful for the darkness. When the movie begins you don’t try as hard to hold the tears back. What are the odds that he would be here of all places, of all nights? You don’t pay any attention to the movie though you stare straight ahead at the screen. You couldn’t recap it if your life were dependent upon it, beyond the occasional explosion and maybe a nip slip or too.

Suddenly it feels as if all the air has been sucked out of the room. Your heart races and your face heats up. The room feels much smaller, the walls closer than they had been before. You take in a couple of deep, slow breaths, trying to quiet the unease that has taken root inside your body. The little voice nagging at the back of your mind, posing the question you haven’t allowed yourself in years. What if?

You need to get out of here. Get some fresh air. Your husband barely acknowledges your presence as you scoot past him, with a hushed excuse of “bathroom.” You climb down the carpeted steps and glance at your phone. There’s about thirty minutes left in the film and you wonder if he would notice if you just slipped back in just before the credits roll.

You splash water on your face in the bathroom, drying it and your hands with a paper towel. You look in the mirror and fuss with your hair for a moment. You readjust the thigh high socks and pull your skirt down just a bit. When you walk out of the bathroom into the long hallway you look first left, then right. Left will take you back to the theater, back to the movie. Back to your husband. Right will take you out the side exit. To the alley on the side of the multiplex.

The hydraulic door makes a loud click when it shuts behind you. A whiff of cigarette smoke invades your nostrils and you turn. Right there, next to the door, is Frankie. His back is against the wall and his right knee is bent, cowboy boot resting on the brick. He blows out another cloud of smoke and throws the cigarette butt on the ground. It rolls, embers still red and smoking, until it hits a crack in the sidewalk. You stand there and watch it until the tip turns dark and the last of the smoke wafts away into the night.

“Hey there, bonita ”

You try to swallow past the thick lump in your throat as the heat once again flares inside your body. The sticky humidity of the night has your socks clinging to your thighs. The smoldering look in your ex’s eyes causes your panties to grow damp beneath your skirt. He pushes off the wall and takes a step towards you. You are once again frozen in place, unable to think of anything to say. He pulls his cap off by the bill and runs his fingers through his messy curls. You can still remember how your fingers feel tangled in them. How they would tickle the skin of your chest when he would fall asleep wrapped around you.

“Guess I’ll leave you be. It was good to see you.” He spins on his heel and turns to head back inside. He gives you one last look, brown eyes as sad as you’ve ever seen them.

Say something you fucking idiot!

“Frankie. Wait.”

He turns back around and closes the distance between you in just a few strides. His body crowds yours and you take a step back. Another half step and your back hits the brick. You suck in a deep breath and his arm extends, bringing his hand to rest on the wall beside your head.

“I was beginning to think you weren’t gonna speak to me, baby.” He rasps, inching his face even closer to yours.

“I didn- I just- I wasn’t expecting to see you here.” He places his hand at the hinge of your jaw and runs his thumb across your cheek. When you lean into his touch, closing your eyes, he moves his body even closer.

“I thought maybe you didn’t miss me.” He holds your face just a little firmer, his lips barely brush over yours. “Not even a little bit.” He smells like cigarettes and movie theater butter.

You shouldn’t be doing this. Neither of you should. But you just can’t stop yourself from leaning forward a bit, hoping to catch his lips between your own. But just before you can, he pulls back. You open your mouth to protest but he places his finger over your lips. He grabs your hand and pulls you further down the alley.

There is no light back here save for a single yellowing bulb, and Frankie pulls his phone out of his pocket and turns the flashlight on. Once he’s pulled you far enough away from the entrance to the alley, and any prying eyes, he pushes you back against the wall. He must have already gotten his fill of teasing because he immediately captures your lips in a ravenous kiss and presses his thigh right against your center. You grind down on him while your hands move automatically to his hair, knocking his cap to the ground.

His hands go to your hips and he moans when the soft flesh yields under his touch. He inches his thigh even closer and you give his curls a tug. He releases your lips and groans low in your ear. His hands slide up your side, caressing the flesh that lives there. He drags them back down, dropping to his knees on the concrete. His fingers dip under your skirt, exposing the tops of your socks. His nostrils flare as he pops the top against your thigh.

He lifts your skirt higher, until it sits up on your hips and he can see that you are already soaked for him. He buries his nose in the fabric, pressing it into your mound. The wet cotton is cool against your skin but the sensation is opposed by the hot breath he lets out. He inhales deeply and moans against you. He looks up at you and you are already so worked up, just one touch from him is liable to push you over the edge.

“Fuck, I missed you bonita .”

Before you can even respond he lifts your leg, resting your thigh on his shoulder. He scoots forwards on his knees until he can’t get any closer. He bites your mound softly through the fabric of your panties and your knees begin to wobble. He pulls them to the side with the hand that isn’t cradling your thigh against his face. His stubble pricks the soft skin there as he presses his tongue lightly against your clit. He doesn’t move it yet, just holds it there, savoring the taste of you. Reveling in the way it throbs against his tongue.

Only when you start squirming and tugging on his hair does he finally move. He swirls his tongue in slow, precise circles around your clit. He still knows your body so well, even after all this time. He knows exactly how to have you dripping for him, whining for him.

“Fuck! Frankie, please. ” You beg.

“I know, baby. You need more.” He whispers. He stands from the ground and you whine at the loss of his mouth. “Turn around.” He instructs. You pout but do as he says. You know that whatever he has in mind, he’s gonna make you feel good.

“Put your hands on the wall.” You look at him over your shoulder and he just cocks his eyebrow expectantly. “Do it.”

You place your hands against the wall and your ass sticks out. Frankie grabs the waistband of your panties and drags them down your legs, lifting your feet one at a time for you to step out of them. You expect to hear the clinking of his belt but instead you feel his hand land a swat on your ass. From your position, you miss the look of delight as the flesh ripples from his touch. He grabs a handful of ass in each hand and spreads your cheeks apart. He resumes his previous activities. Long, slow swipes of his tongue. Through your folds and around your clit.

It doesn’t take long to have you teetering on the precipice. He still recognizes the signals your body gives him. He knows you are close. His fingers fly to your clit and his tongue breaches your entrance. His exaltation is rewarded with the feeling of your walls fluttering around his tongue. He laps up everything you have to give him and only stops when you bat his hand away. He plants a kiss on your ass cheek and lands another, softer swat on the other before he rises to his feet. His hands return to your hips and he presses his denim covered bulge against your asscrack.

“Feel what you do to me, baby?” He asks as he pulls back onto him. Still coming down from your peak you can only nod your head in response. “I think he missed you even more than I did.”

His hands leave you once more and the telltale sound of his belt being unbuckled and his zipper coming down fills the alley. He rests his cock, thick and uncut, on your bare asscrack. He reaches around you and runs his fingers through your folds, gathering your release. You whimper at his touch, aching for him to be inside you.

He rubs the head in between your cheeks, down past your asshole until it catches on your entrance. Slowly, he nudges himself inside of your cunt. You’ve had bigger dicks before, longer ones. But you’ve never had one as thick as Frankie. Just on the edge of too big , he stretches you open around him. Your walls give way to him and he buries himself inside you.

“ Oh fuck, baby!” He cries out, unable to keep his voice down.

“You’re gonna get us caught.” You turn and look over your shoulder and are treated to the sight of the near-feral look in his eyes. Your insides turn liquid when winks at you. He’s just like you remembered he was, before the war took him away from you, devilish little grin and all. His hands move to the spot where your hips and ass meet. He grips you firmly, fingers digging into the soft flesh.

He fucks into you with the same kind of desperation as the last time you were together. He knows this moment together is fleeting and now you understand the urgency he was feeling back then. With your hands planted firmly on the wall, you meet his every thrust. The slick sound of skin against skin fills the darkness in the alley. Your thighs begin to burn and Frankie’s pace falters. A half a dozen or so thrusts and he’s cursing out into the night.

“Shit! Ohfuckohshit baby!” He cries and you are so fucked out you can’t even form a coherent thought. He spills inside of you and the twitching of his cock and the way he sounds when whimpering is dragging you over the edge again. He pulls out of you and his come slips out, falling to the pavement in thick globs. He spins you around by your elbow and your back is up against the wall again.

He lays his head on your shoulder with his nose buried in your neck. Your fingers thread in his hair once more and you just stand there, together. Your chests heave against each other and you just enjoy the feel of each other, the smell. But nothing gold can stay and the moment breaks. You shuffle silently in the near dark, righting your clothes and deciding what to say or not say. Frankie picks his hat up from the ground and dusts it off with the same fingers that were buried inside you moments ago. You pull your panties back over your shoes and up your legs. They stick to your skin from your own arousal and the come that still dribbles out of you. You both avoid the other’s face.

You walk hand in hand back down the alley until you reach where the light is. When you drop his hand he finally looks at you.

“I’m not sure what to say here.” He admits and for the first time tonight you cannot read his expression

“It was good to see you.” you reply, mirroring his earlier sentiment. You walk out of the alley and back to the theater.

“ Bonita , wait.” He calls after you. You slow down briefly, but square your shoulders and continue on.

You use the bathroom and try to clean yourself up as much as possible before sliding back into your seat. Your husband leans over the armrest. “You okay”? He asks, never taking his eyes off the screen.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” You take a sip of your soda, now mostly watered down.

“You took a while.” He points out.

“Long line.” He doesn’t even acknowledge your response, more focused on the film’s climax.

The credits roll after a few minutes and you stand. Your shoes stick to the floor in a way you hadn’t noticed before. Your husband grabs your hand at the end of the row and leads you down the steps. In the lobby you see Frankie and his wife coming out of their theater. She’s snuggled up under his arm, in the place that you used to call home. You and Frankie meet gazes for a moment and you both quickly look away.

On the way home, you feign interest in your husband’s recap of the film and its best scenes. You nod your head and interject with an occasional “mhmm.” he holds your hand the whole way home, rubbing his thumb along your fingers affectionately. Once home, you get into the shower right away, wanting nothing more than to wash Frankie off of your body, out of your body. The smell of him, the feel, the taste. You fucked up. This shouldn’t have happened. The last thing you ever want to do is hurt your husband. Or break up Frankie’s marriage.

By the time you get dressed and walk to your bed, your husband is already asleep. His face looks so peaceful. If only he knew.

A few months later

You haven’t spoken to Frankie since that night at the movies. To be honest, you weren’t expecting to. He must have his own share of guilt and regret from that night. Yet, here you sit at a cafe on the opposite side of town. You sip your water and watch the door. You check the time on your phone even though you know it will show that only a minute or two has passed since the last time you looked.

Finally, that mop of brown curls hidden under his ever present baseball cap appears. He looks around the small dining area for you and his face lights up when he finds you. You give him a small wave and he starts towards your table. When he reaches you he bends down and kisses your cheek, as if it were the most natural thing in the world for him to do.

He’s all smiles when he opts for the chair right next to you, as opposed to the one across. He places his arm on the back of your chair and his fingers skim along your shoulder.

“I’m happy you called, Bonita. ”

“I was surprised to find your number in the pocket of my skirt.” You admit. You almost threw it away a dozen times in the weeks after that night.

“I was hoping you would use it.”

“I really needed to talk to you.” You fidget with silverware on the table nervously and Frankie’s brows knit in concern.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

You reach into the pocket of your jacket and close your fingers around the ziploc bag nestled safely in there. You hesitate a moment before pulling it out and setting it on the table.

“What’s this?” He asks, picking it up. It only takes a moment for his brain to catch up. “Shit.” He says under his breath as he takes in the contents.

Funny how something so small, just a couple of pieces of pink and white plastic, can mean something so big.

“Shit.” He repeats, staring at the bag as that little pink plus sign stares right back at him.

since tags are being fucky again I'm going to discontinue my taglist for a while. follow me over at @ramble-on-fics and turn on post notifications for updates!

#fic recs #frankie morales fics #ang

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wannab-urs · 17 hours

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i think it is important to recognize the ways in which your favorite thing sucks. i think it keeps u normal

#tlou being zionist #for example

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wannab-urs · 17 hours

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PEDRO PASCAL as JAVI GUTIERREZ The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent (2022) dir. Tom Gormican

#javi gutierrez

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wannab-urs · 17 hours

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warmup doodle that got out of hand

rustin my beloved

#art!!!#rust cohle #true detective

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wannab-urs · 17 hours

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Din Djarin Fic Club Server!

Hi friends! I decided to make a book club server for stories about our silly little tin can man! We’ll select a fic, read a chapter each week, and discuss it together!

But we’ll also collectively thirst over Din, talk Star Wars in general, and have special events!

If you’d like to join comment below or dm me!

Friendly reminder, this server is 18+ only!

Banner by @pedgito 🤍

This is the way 🫡

#signal boost

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wannab-urs · 3 days

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EEEE I'm obsessed with thisssss. So first of all, including the texts was a stroke of genius. It was so funny trying to decipher what the hell Max was talking about. Secondly, the negotiation before they fuck??? Perfection. I love a good kink negotiation scene. This was so hot and so funny, I really really loved it.

God is a Woman

summary: Max Phillips has been trying to fuck you since the moment you met. It surprises him when you want to fuck him. (Or pegging Max Phillips)

rating: E (18+! No y/n, pegging (anal fingering & anal sex), blow jobs, vaginal fingering, come eating, dirty talk, praise kink, (1) bite (surprisingly not Max), kink negotiation, sexting, Asshole Max Phillips, Switch Max Phillips, Soft Max Phillips, Protective Max Phillips, boss/employee, Max using an excessive amount of emojis in his texts, some feelings, some comedy, alcohol, mentions of murder and an uncomfy situation with a creepy coworker (no details))

pairing: Max Phillips/f!reader

word count: 6.7k+

a/n: There are screenshots of texts because I felt it was essential to see the ridiculousness that is Max’s obsession with emojis. Lmao, I put a lot of effort into it. Anyways, this is self-indulgent. I wanted to peg Max, listened to spicy audio of a man getting pegged for inspo, and here we are. This will be two parts. Shoutout and thanks to the love of my life, @juletheghoul, for betaing and enjoying this as much as me.

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

Part 2 - Masterlist

The workweek had been hectic, and you were thankful it was finally Friday. Being the assistant to Max Phillips was a lot in normal circumstances with his cocky attitude, constant advances, and crudeness. Add in him handling two big account presentations in the same week, and you more than earned the bottle of wine you’d opened.

You were lounging on your couch, wearing your comfiest pajamas, and sipping on your largest glass of wine while watching the latest episode of a reality television show you knew was absolute trash but absolutely loved—living for the ridiculous drama and all of the absurd craziness, thanking the universe that your life was pretty tame in comparison, vampires being real besides the point.

Your phone buzzed on the coffee table in front of you, the screen lighting up to show you had a text. You leaned forward to pick it up, quickly unlocking the screen to pull up the message.

You sighed as you read the two words, honestly surprised it didn’t say, ‘U up?’

Since day one, Max had been trying to get into your pants, and since day one, you’d declined. You thought he was handsome—those expressive brown eyes, and pouty lips, the beautiful curve of his nose, and sharp jawline, not to mention he looked really fucking good in a suit. Once you got past his obnoxiousness, he was sexy, but you didn’t feel like being another one of his conquests, you didn’t want to be another notch in his belt before he moved on to the next. So, you put up with him, ignoring his advances and lingering stares at your tits, and did your job exceptionally well, the two of you somewhat friendly.

Your thumb tapped out your response.

You: No. If this has to do with work, I’m off the clock.

You snorted.

You: Then text Jennifer in accounting.

The week prior, you’d accidentally walked into his office to find him fucking her on his desk. You’d like to say that was the first time something like that had happened, but it wasn’t. You were pretty sure he’d slept with everyone on the payroll except you.

You took a sip of your wine.

You: Who’s fault is that?

You were so used to saying that sentence you’d typed it without a second thought.

You snorted again, absolutely doubting that was true.

You: You’re really looking for someone to cuddle? Why?

There it was.

You: I’ll have a heated blanket delivered to you.

You chewed on your lip before taking a big gulp from your glass, leaning forward to set it down on the table, and moving to get comfortable on the couch again.

His request was stuck in your brain, thinking it over and how it could all play out. It had been a literal hell of a week, and you wanted to decompress—one thing on your mind you knew would help, but you’d need a willing partner, and Max was definitely interested in you sexually… Would he be interested, was the real question. A couple of things gave you the courage to ask. Namely, the half a glass of wine you’d drunk as well as being horny. Primarily, though, you’d blame the alcohol.

You: Are you firm on no sex?

You rolled your eyes.

You: You want body heat? There’s something I want.

Max started replying right away.

“Good god,” you whispered to yourself, staring at the string of emojis, trying to decipher their meanings. “I’m really this desperate.”

On the bright side, he was a vampire, which meant you didn’t have to worry about STDs or pregnancy—since they were technically dead, there was no live sperm, and they were immune to diseases. You were honestly thankful he was undead with how many people you knew off the top of your head he’d fucked.

You tapped at your phone.

You: Actually, I want to fuck you.

Max: Did my emojis not convey I’m DTF?

You: You didn’t list what I wanted.

His replies came fast.

You thumbed your response quickly to clarify.

There was a pause. You saw the dots appearing and disappearing. Seconds passed, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth as you waited.

The dots disappeared, and finally, messages started appearing.

You rolled your eyes again.

He was so full of himself.

You: I’m firm, and if you’ve never done it before, I’d ease you into it. Promise to make it really good for you.

Another pause, like he was thinking.

Finally, he started replying.

You deflated, huffing out a breath as you locked your screen and tossed the phone onto the coffee table, grabbing your wine. You’d just have to use your vibrator when you finally got into bed. That’d be fine. You took a drink, focusing back on your show.

Some minutes passed, and your phone buzzed again. You moved to grab it, unlocking it and pulling up your messages.

You grinned, setting down your glass, and sitting back into the cushions.

Max: Will it hurt?

You: It shouldn’t. I’d start with my fingers while sucking your dick.

You: Yes. Have your cock in my mouth while I slip in a finger. Suck you off, and use my fingers to make you come really hard.

His response was almost immediate.

He replied.

You sent him your address.

Excitement was pooling in your belly, getting up to put the wine away and chug the rest of your glass. You took a quick shower and slipped your satin robe over your naked body, not seeing a point in putting on anything else.

You opened your closet, getting into the large chest hidden in the back, grabbing what you needed—lube, harness, dildos, clean towel—thankful you’d trimmed and filed your nails the day before, a coat of lavender-colored polish painted on them.

Everything was placed on your giant king-sized bed towards an edge where it was out of the way but still within reach. One of the bedside lamps was turned on to give the room some ambiance.

You weren’t entirely sure what to expect—you weren’t entirely sure if Max had the ability to let you be in control. You’d find out, and he seemed eager to give it all a shot.

Three quick knocks sounded against your front door, and you immediately headed towards it, tightening your robe as you walked. You quickly undid the locks and pulled it open, finding Max leaning against the doorframe in a white v-neck and grey sweats, your eyes spotting the noticeable outline of his dick, arousal stirring in your belly.

Your eyes met his, a smirk on those perfect plush lips of his.

“Is it true I have to invite you in?” You asked. “Like, I have to explicitly give you permission, or else some mystical force keeps you outside?” You leaned into the door, your hand still on the knob.

“Yes,” Max sighed. “Protection barriers or some shit, homes being sanctuaries from malevolent creatures,” he huffed, mildly annoyed.

Your eyebrow rose.

“Are you malevolent, Max?”

The face he gave you could rival that of the smiling purple devil emoji.

“Wish to do evil? No. Wish to destroy your pussy? Yes.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Jesus, Max.”

“Oh, come on, Sweetcheeks. You know how much I want to fuck you—so much, in fact, I’m willing to let you fuck my ass, which isn’t something I’ve let anyone do. Honestly, you should feel pretty fucking special.”

“It’s honestly surprising to me that you’ve had thousands of hookups with women and men, with zero ass play.”

“There’s been ass play, babe, but I’m always the giver if you know what I mean,” he wagged his eyebrows. “Let me in. I wanna see you naked.” His eyes moved salaciously down your body, biting his bottom lip.

“Rules.”

“You’re no fun,” he pouted, meeting your gaze.

“Rules,” you said again. “No, means no. I will ask before I do anything and check in on how you’re feeling. I like to use the color system—red, stop; yellow, slow down; green, go—but also safewords. Do you have one?”

“Mr. Rogers,” he answered without skipping a beat.

You made a face.

“Your safeword is Mr. Rogers?”

“Yes.”

“Okay… I’ll definitely remember that.” You took a breath before you started talking again. “If you need me to stop, slow down, or decide it isn’t your thing, I need you to communicate with me—use a color, your safeword, or just tell me to stop, and I will, zero hesitation, and no bad feelings. I want this to be as good for you as it is for me.”

His eyebrow rose.

“You get off on fucking guys?”

“And women,” you nodded.

His eyes went dark as he gasped out a fuck like he was picturing you with a woman.

“Anything else?” He asked.

“Just don’t make me regret inviting you over.”

He smiled.

“Sweetcheeks, I’m not gonna fuck up my chance to get between your legs, and frankly, I’m curious about what you’re going to do to me. You have my enthusiastic consent to do whatever the fuck you want.”

You opened the door wider, stepping out of the way.

“Max Phillips, you are invited into my home.”

“Come in, would’ve worked,” he said as he entered your apartment.

You got the door shut and locked and turned to find a big hulking vampire crowding into your space, pushing your back into the solid surface as he caged you in.

He looked at you with lust-blown eyes, his tongue sweeping across his bottom lip.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked, voice lower, raspier, his eyes dipping down to look at your tits before meeting your gaze again.

You nodded.

His mouth was on yours immediately, like he couldn’t wait another moment, his hands cradling your face as he hungrily pressed his mouth against yours, swallowing the surprised moan that escaped your throat. You weren’t expecting the softness of his lips or how cool they were, feeling as if he’d just sucked on a popsicle. He deepened the kiss, pushing his tongue into your mouth, sliding against yours in practiced motions that had your toes curling and eyes rolling back.

Butterflies were fluttering in your tummy, which was wholly unexpected—this was Max, your annoying boss, and yet your heart was pounding in your chest—your pussy throbbing at how thoroughly he was kissing you, unable to stop yourself from pushing your fingers into his hair.

He’d ignited some kind of spark inside you, your body lit up as he kissed the breath right out of your lungs, finally breaking it so he could messily kiss along your jawline and down your neck. You were breathing hard, feeling as he inhaled deeply at your pulse point.

“Fuck, you smell good,” he murmured against your skin. He laved at the spot, lightly nipping at it. “I’ve always wanted to taste you.” He grabbed a handful of your ass.

“Another rule,” you panted. “No biting unless I say it’s okay.”

His head came up.

“Sweetcheeks, I’m not gonna bite you unless you beg me to,” he winked.

“Okay,” you nodded.

“Now,” he slapped your ass, making you jump a little. “Where’s the bedroom? I wanna see those pretty lips wrapped around my cock—it’s something I’ve thought about extensively, especially when you’re ordering me around.”

You sighed, pointing towards the open bedroom door.

“Hold on tight, spider monkey.”

“Wha—” the word broke off in a yelp as big hands gripped your thighs, suddenly finding yourself being easily lifted up against his body, your arms scrabbling to wrap around his neck, his mouth crashing against yours as he carried you towards the room with ease, kissing you the whole way.

You were tossed onto the mattress, leaning up to watch him pull his t-shirt off his body, hearing him kick off his shoes and push down his sweats, not even surprised he wasn’t wearing any underwear. You gulped as you took in the sight of his dick—long, thick, curved deliciously—you understood why so many people fucked him; it was a nice cock.

He was awkwardly pulling off his socks.

“This is always the least sexy part of undressing,” he mused, tugging off the last one.

“Not a sex with socks guy?”

His face scrunched up in disgust.

“Who fucks in socks?” He asked. “Unless most of the clothes are on, the socks are coming off—I’m going to be completely naked, thank you very much. Which,” he crawled onto the bed, spreading your legs to kneel between them. “It’s your turn. Let’s even the playing field. I have been dying to see your tits,” he wiggled his eyebrows, grinning.

“God, Max, you’re fucking ridiculous,” you untied the robe and let it fall open, revealing your naked body underneath.

His eyes were burning as they took you in, making you shudder at the intensity. He licked his lips before he moved, shoving his face into your chest hard enough that you fell onto your back. His cool body felt good against your heated skin, his big hands on your boobs, his head nestled between them, as he started shaking it from side to side and humming in the back of his throat.

“Are you fucking motorboating me?” You asked.

He popped up to look at you with a smirk.

“Yes? You’re so fucking warm, and they’re soft.”

“Why do people sleep with you?”

You honestly wanted to know.

“Big dick, practically zero refractory period, super strength, and I fuck like a pro,” he shrugged.

You snorted in disbelief.

He frowned slightly, eyes narrowing.

“Challenge accepted,” he stated.

Your eyebrows furrowed.

“Wha—” You were cut off by lips suddenly on yours, Max moving quicker than you expected, or could even register just one second his head was between your breasts, and the next he was kissing you hard. The first kiss had been impressive, but this one, he was pulling out all the stops, his tongue tangling with yours, biting at your lips, your brain losing focus on everything around you except for the man kissing you as if his life depended on it.

His hips were slotted in the cradle of your thighs, feeling his hard cock pressed into your body, holding himself up on one arm while the other hand moved up your thigh, ghosting his fingertips over your belly and ribs, making goosebumps rise on your skin, as he got to your breast, massaging it before rolling your stiff nipple between his fingers. You moaned as jolts of pleasure shot to your core, feeling yourself dripping with need, clenching hard around nothing when he pinched at the sensitive bud.

He broke the kiss when you needed to breathe, his lips making a path sloppily kissing your jaw and neck, licking and sucking at your skin. You gasped when you felt his fangs graze over your pulse point, surprised when your pussy throbbed, a rumbling chuckle coming from Max like he was aware of your reaction.

The man had worked some kind of magic because you were all hot and bothered, cunt aching to be touched, and seeping arousal. Your skin was heated, your breaths coming out harder, his lips latched around a nipple, and your back arched as you moaned, fingers digging into the bedsheets. He was pinching at your other bud as he continued sucking before switching sides, the sensations making you moan as you began to writhe with need.

His hand skated down your abdomen, making you vibrate in anticipation, wanting him to touch you, him stopping right before he was where you needed him, a pitiful whine pulled from your throat.

He chuckled, and you frowned.

His mouth came off your nipple with a ‘pop,’ looking at you with a raised eyebrow.

“You want me to touch that pretty little pussy? I can smell you. I don’t even need to touch you to know you’re fucking wet.” Those long, thick fingers of his were teasing against your skin in circles. “Want to come on my fingers?”

“You can try,” you answered, not wanting to reveal your neediness.

“Oh, babe, you’re gonna come. As a matter of fact,” he looked at the clock on your bedside table. “I will make you come in less than two minutes.”

“Less than two-Oh,” you moaned as his fingers pushed through your wetness before zeroing in on your clit, the rough pads of his fingertips circling it in a way that had your hips jerking. You were so pent up that you felt that heated pressure building in your core with each movement of his digits. You couldn’t help the soft sounds slipping from your lips, your hands gripped tight against the bedspread as he worked you over.

“You gonna come for me, pretty girl?” Max asked. “You gonna come all over my hand?”

He pushed one thick finger inside you, followed by a second, and a strangled noise sounded from your mouth. His thumb was on your clit as he started pumping his fingers.

“You’re so fucking tight and warm. I really fucking hope you let me fuck this pussy.”

He sped up his fingers and applied more pressure with his thumb, your muscles tightening in your belly.

“Wanna stretch you open on my cock, and feel you come around me. Bet you get so fucking wet.”

You were getting close, winding tighter every second, unable to stop your moans, fingers digging into the bedsheets.

“You like to be in control,” he mused. “Makes you a really fucking good assistant—keeping my ass in check. But,” he leaned down, rubbing his nose along your cheek until his lips were at your ear. “I think sometimes you like someone else in control,” he rasped, nipping at your earlobe and making you shiver. “And I also think,” he crooked his fingers, hitting something blinding, fucking his fingers against it repeatedly, rocketing you towards your climax. His voice went lower. “You want to be a good girl.”

Your orgasm hit you hard, completely blindsiding you as you came with a shout. Your back arched, feeling yourself clench and arousal spill around his digits, pleasure wracking through your body.

“That’s fucking it,” he purred, kissing your cheek. “You did so well for me, pretty girl—soaking my fingers—and we still had thirty seconds to spare.”

He kept working you through your high until you stopped fluttering, opening your eyes in time to watch him bring his fingers to his mouth and suck at them lewdly.

“Mmm, knew you’d taste fucking delicious,” he said around them. He finished, his digits shiny with spit, moving to cup his hand over your pussy, looking at you with a heated gaze. “Can’t wait to eat your wet little cunt. Do you know how many times I’ve fucked my hand thinking about it?”

The orgasmic haze was leaving your brain, your features screwing up in confusion, your voice coming out a little hoarse.

“You’ve jerked off thinking about me?” You asked.

“Sweetheart, you are prime spank bank material, and the way you’re always turning me down? Fuck, I’ve never wanted someone more. Plus, I like you,” he said off-handedly.

“You like me?” You said the words slowly.

“Yeah, I do. A lot, and I trust you. So, I know whatever shit you do to me will be good,” he said earnestly, and you could see in his eyes he meant every word.

You gulped, not expecting such sweet words from Max fucking Phillips.

He was a conceited asshole, who you could’ve reported to HR on many occasions for the shit he said, and yet, you never did because you knew deep down he was harmless. Even though he hit on you constantly, and you’d caught him in many compromising situations, he really was a good boss. He made sure you had everything you needed and did what you asked with only a little complaining. If you needed a day off, you got it. If you showed up to work with a cold, he was sending you home to rest, a delivery of fresh chicken noodle soup following.

You remembered a few months back. There was a creepy new hire who was handsy and made you feel insanely uncomfortable, who’d cornered you alone in the filing room and scared you to death, Max just suddenly appearing out of nowhere. He’d sent you back to your desk, and you never saw the other guy again, assuming he was let go, but now…

“Max?”

“Yeah?”

“What happened to that new hire?”

He looked confused.

“What new hire?”

“The creepy one from the filing room.”

You saw anger flash across his face.

“I ate him,” his tone growly.

“You killed someone for me?”

“I could hear your heart pounding all the way in my fucking office, and the closer I got, could smell your fear. Yes, I killed him,” he stated with zero remorse. “You didn’t feel safe, and that needed to be dealt with.”

This knowledge was doing something to you; knowing the lengths he’d go to protect you was turning you on, feeling the beginnings of arousal in your belly.

You reached out and pulled him down to kiss you, shoving your tongue in his mouth and pushing on his body, him getting the message to pull you on top of him as he laid on his back. He was matching your energy, kissing you just as enthusiastically, his hands tugging your robe off your body, so he could touch your back and ass, his big palms roaming everywhere as you made out.

When you came up for air, you looked at him, seeing his eyes hooded and black with lust, a lazy smile on his lips, as you caught your breath.

“Can I suck your dick?” You asked huskily.

“Fuck yes,” he nodded. “Let me get comfortable. I wanna watch.”

“Okay,” you replied. “I need to get the lube.”

You moved off of him to get the bottle on the other side of the bed while he stacked pillows behind himself and settled with his back against them at the head of the bed, spreading his legs, his dick hard and resting against his stomach. You laid down on your stomach in the space he made, keeping the lube close as you ran your hands up his thighs. He had his bottom lip between his teeth as you rubbed along his hips before taking his cock in your hand, surprised for a moment with how it felt.

“Your dick’s cold,” you said, looking up at him.

It was velvety smooth and hard like iron but cold—not even room temperature, absolutely zero heat, that you hadn’t noticed when he was on top of you.

“I’m a vampire,” he answered by way of explanation.

“I just figured if you could get hard, there was some kind of blood flow, and I don’t know, warmth from said blood flow?”

“I don’t question the science behind being able to get a boner. I simply thank the powers that be for allowing me to fuck, and I use the gift at every opportunity.”

That was a very Max thing to say, and you couldn’t argue with his logic.

“I’m aware,” you replied. You started stroking his length, his hips bucking. “Now, while I’m going down on you, I’m going to slip a finger in slowly—just relax. Your immediate thought will be to clench but don’t. Once you’re nice and relaxed and taking that first finger, I’ll put in a second and finally a third.”

He nodded.

“Got it, Sweetheart. I’ll do as Frankie said and relax, 'cause I wanna come,” he winked.

You snorted.

“Those aren’t the lyrics.”

“Paraphrasing.”

You kissed the tip of his cock, and he sucked in a breath.

Grabbing the lube, you put some in your palm and started stroking him, your hand easily gliding down his shaft as you wrapped your lips around the head, teasing your tongue against all of his sensitive spots, making his hips buck up.

“Fuck,” he moaned. “Shit, your mouth is so fucking warm.”

You understood his obsession with warmth now; he was probably always cold.

You came off him, looking up at him through your lashes.

“You’ve got a pretty dick,” you said.

“I know.”

You rolled your eyes.

“You know how you made me come quick?” You asked.

“Yeah?” He smirked.

“Once I get my fingers inside you, it’s your turn,” you said before taking him into your mouth and hollowing your cheeks.

Max moaned loudly, a hand landing on your head.

Your eyes were on him, seeing his mouth open and eyebrows furrowed, watching you with a hungry gaze. You started bobbing, taking him further and further into your mouth, before coming up and licking a wide stripe from base to tip, swirling your tongue around it, and engulfing him once more.

“You look so fucking hot with my dick in your mouth,” his voice had dropped lower, raspier. “Such a pretty fucking girl, sucking my cock.”

You were moving your head up and down, getting him further and further in your mouth until you swallowed around him, tears leaking from your eyes as your nose brushed the curls at his base.

The low groan that rumbled from his chest had a shiver moving down your spine.

“Better than I ever fucking imagined,” his voice was strained. His hand moved to your throat, feeling himself bulging. “Fucking taking my dick in your throat, so fucking good to me.”

You had to breathe coming off of him with a gasp, a line of saliva connecting you to him.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he rasped, rubbing a thumb along your wet lower lip, his eyes glazed over.

His hand ended up back on your head as you took him back into your mouth, working him over while you grabbed the lube, squirting a generous amount onto your fingers, getting slicked up.

You had one hand stroking what your mouth couldn’t fit, and your lubed-up fingers moved, gently grazing his hole, Max jolting from the sudden contact.

“Relax,” you reminded before taking him back in your mouth.

You were swirling your fingers, getting him nice and slick, your mouth and hand continuing to work him. Once you were satisfied, you slowly started pressing in a finger.

“Oh, fuck,” Max gasped.

His hips thrust forward, making you choke a little, but you quickly recovered, feeling him fluttering around your digit as you pushed it in—tight as a vice—having to wiggle to get it all the way in, and watching his face, seeing the slight discomfort at first before his face relaxed, his mouth going slack.

“It’s not too bad,” he rasped.

Your head came up.

“Color?” You asked.

“Green. So fucking green.”

You smiled.

“You’re doing so good for me. Here comes the second. Just relax. There will be a stretch.”

“Relax. I can do that,” he nodded, eyes hooded as he watched.

You started sucking him off again as you slowly fingered him, getting him used to the foreign feeling before pressing in your second, him doing better to relax this time, arching his back as he groaned.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he panted.

Your fingers were moving in him, working him until he was moaning, and you thought he was ready for the third, pulling off of him to speak.

“Color?”

“Green. Give me the third.”

He looked a little excited, and it elated you that he was enjoying himself.

“Love the enthusiasm.”

You knew this one would be the hardest, so you distracted him with your mouth and hand again while working your fingers, getting him to the point that he was babbling praise, and finally, you pressed in the last finger.

A loud, long moan was pulled from his mouth, his eyes squeezing shut, his dick twitching in your mouth as you pushed in all the way. He pressed a hand over his face, his other gripped tight on the blanket.

Your hand stilled, letting him accommodate the intrusion, focusing on blowing him, tonguing the underside, and circling the tip, over and over again, Max having to clutch at the bed with both hands and groaning.

Finally, you started moving your fingers again, fucking him open slowly, his hips bucking into your mouth.

“Why does this feel so fucking good?” He gasped.

You twisted your fingers a bit, scissored them, really making sure he was loose, his body shivering as you did it. Max attempted to speak but couldn’t make words, whining moans falling from his lips as you kept working, delighting you that he was rendered speechless for the first time since you’d met him.

It was time for the finale, and you were dripping with excitement. You knowingly crooked your fingers to hit that one spot inside him, pressing into it, and immediately, Max was spilling into your mouth—coming so hard his back arched, fingers gripping your bedding with enough force to rip the blankets, shouting your name in a strangled cry. You swallowed down his salty taste, an odd sensation that it was cold as you drank down every drop before coming off of him with a smile, feeling good about what you’d done.

Max sunk into the pillows behind him, eyes closed, looking absolutely blissed out and not even bothering to pretend to breathe. You didn’t know if he lost consciousness; he was as still as a statue—la petite mort personified, and it made you giggle as you pulled your fingers out of him, leaning to grab the towel to wipe them clean.

Your attention moved back to Max, seeing the torn blankets, and you briefly wondered if you could get away with charging new ones to the company credit card. You’d have to remember to ask him later.

“So,” you started. “What did you think?” You asked after a minute.

He peeked one eye open to look at you.

“I think I’m in love with you,” the words came out dreamily.

You laughed.

“You came that hard?”

“Marry me.”

You snorted.

“I’m not marrying you.”

“Have my vampire babies.”

“You can’t have children.” You paused. “Wait, you can’t have children, right?”

He frowned.

“No, I can’t,” he answered sadly. “Sperm are dead.” He sighed, closing his eye again.

It had never crossed your mind that Max would ever want to be a father.

“You know what that means?” You asked.

He blinked open both eyes, all feline-like, as he looked at you.

“What?” He asked.

“You can come inside me.”

You watched his face slowly light up, a big grin spreading on his lips.

“I can fuck you?” He asked, sounding excited.

You smirked.

“Max Phillips, you are invited into my pussy.”

He tried to hold in the laughter, but it just burst from him, loud guffaws, his eyes crinkling and dimple showing, his mirth making you laugh.

It took you a minute to both calm down.

He leaned forward and grabbed you, easily bringing you into his lap, kissing you the moment your faces were close. His hands cradled your jaw, slipping his tongue into your mouth, tangling it with your own, the two of you making out until it heated up and his hands were all over your body.

His eyes were dark pools when he pulled back to look at you.

“I want you to fuck me,” his voice was a deep timbre that had a tingle moving down your spine. You could feel him already hard beneath you.

“How do you want it?” You asked.

“Doggy?”

“Okay, let me get set up.”

You kissed him quickly before moving off the bed and putting everything on, going with the smaller of the two dildos.

Max was already getting into position when you crawled back onto the mattress, his head towards the headboard, ass facing you. There was just something about having a powerful vampire willing to get on his knees for you that had your body thrumming.

You moved in behind him, running a hand down his spine, making him shiver under your touch before you admired his rear, your hands massaging the plump flesh.

“Color?” You asked.

He looked over his shoulder, smiling.

“Green, babe!” He wiggled his ass. “I want you inside me.”

“If you want me to stop anytime, just say so.”

“I’ve got it, Sweetheart,” he winked before facing forward.

You grabbed the lube, pouring a good amount on his hole, and the black silicone cock settled against your center, getting it nice and slick with your hand. You had to admit, it was a bit heady, being in this position, knowing you were going to be the one to bring your partner pleasure, being in complete control.

Your hand smoothed along his spine again.

“You ready, Max?”

“Yep! So fucking ready. Put it in!”

You pressed the tip of the silicone against his opening and slowly started pressing in, Max loudly moaning, and you loved watching it disappear inside him.

The tip was in, and you paused, Max still making sounds that had your pussy throbbing.

“Is it too much?” You asked, squeezing his hip.

“Fuck,” he moaned. “Fuck, it’s so good. More.”

The tone of his voice had you grinning as you pulled the tip almost all the way out and started pushing back in, doing this a few times with Max making noises that were almost inhuman before you started working in more of the fake cock.

Inch by inch, you slowly made your way inside until you felt a little bit of resistance and paused.

“You’re clenching, baby,” you purred, rubbing his hip bones. “Relax.”

“Sorry,” his voice was strained, relaxing enough that you could keep going. “God, it feels so fucking good.”

“I know,” you cooed. “You’re doing so good for me,” continuing to push in.

The sounds he was making were akin to manic moaning, clearly hearing how good he was feeling, making a thrill move through you.

“Fuck,” he cried. “Oh, fuck. Babe, it’s so good.”

Finally, you were all the way in, your hips flush against his ass, marveling for a moment at how it stretched him open.

He fell forward onto his elbows, whining out a long fuck.

“It’s so deep,” he panted. “Is it all the way in?”

“Yes. You good?”

“So, good. So, fucking good,” he moaned.

“Ready for me to move?”

“Please,” he whined.

You started moving, pulling almost all the way out and pushing back in, going slow at first, Max mewling with each stroke. It sounded like he was losing his mind in pleasure, the noises making your cunt clench, the harness rubbing deliciously against your clit, shooting sparks to your core, and you couldn’t help it when you moaned.

“You like this, pretty girl?” Max asked, the words raspy and breathy. “You like fucking me?”

“Yes,” you answered, speeding up your thrusts and making him tremble, his head falling forward as the deranged moaning got louder.

It was hot, having this man turn to putty underneath you and hearing the noises he was making, knowing you were making him feel that good. You had a good rhythm, gliding in and out of him smoothly, hearing the wet slap of your skin hitting his, your fingers digging into his hips for leverage.

There was that familiar build in your core, harness rubbing just right, and everything you were doing spurring you on, pounding the silicone into him.

“Oh, babe,” he whimpered. “Oh, fuck. I’m drooling.”

Heavy breaths were coming out of your mouth as you adjusted your angle, pulling a sound from Max you were sure the neighbors would complain about, focusing on that point, fucking into him, and making him keen underneath you.

“Fuck,” he gasped. “Oh, fuck. I love you. I fucking love you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you kept pace.

“No, you don’t, Max,” you panted.

“I need to touch you—need to feel you,” he begged.

“Sit up on your knees.”

He did as you asked, his back pressed against your front, as you fucked into him, holding an arm around his torso, while your other hand reached to grab his cock, Max shuddering as you started stroking him, him reaching behind to grab your hip.

“Thank you,” he moaned. “Thank you.”

The muscles in your belly were tightening, so worked up from everything you were doing to him and making him feel. His hips were pushing forward into your hand while you kept thrusting into him, nonsense babbling from his mouth, his cock throbbing in your touch, knowing he was close.

Your hand was moving slickly over his length, precum steadily dripping from the tip. Max was so overcome with everything he started laughing manically, interspersed with moans.

"God, I wish I could kiss you," he whined.

There was something about the desperation in his voice that had a hot spike of arousal shooting to your core, loving how even in his pleasure-addled state, he couldn’t stop thinking about you—making you feel some type of way, and you liked it. You loved this man coming undone beneath you, pulling him apart, and the fact he trusted you so much.

You adjusted your angle, again and again, until a full-body shiver moved through Max, and he gasped out an oh, fuck, his legs trembling. You zeroed in on it, hard short thrusts, his fingers digging into the skin of your hip, whimpering loudly.

“You gonna come for me, Max?” You murmured. “You gonna be a good boy and come for me?”

The sound he made would make a pornstar blush, his back arching as he came, ropes, and ropes of his come, spilling over your hand, and it sent you over the edge with him, coming with a moan of his name as you sank your teeth into his back, euphoria coursing through your veins.

Max fell forward on the bed, and you went with him, his cool skin feeling nice on your sweaty body.

He was solid beneath you, making no sound, not moving, doing his impression of an unliving statue again. Your ear was pressed against his back, and it was weird not hearing the thumping of a heartbeat. It took you a minute to recover and your breaths to even out. You gently and carefully pulled out of him, rolling to lay beside him, his face turned towards you, eyes closed.

It was strange how comfortable you felt with him—how safe. He could probably kill you in the blink of an eye, and yet you knew deep down he would never harm you. You’d always known that. You couldn’t help yourself, reaching out to rub your fingers through his hair, hearing him make an almost purring sound.

An arm grabbed your waist and pulled you against his body, him moving onto his side to hold you against him, your face shoved into his chest.

“Is that a flashlight in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?” Max asked, his voice hoarse.

You snorted, the dildo wedged between both of your bodies.

“He lives. Did you enjoy yourself?”

“Ariana Grande was right,” Max mused.

“What?” You asked in a confused tone.

“God is a woman, and she wears a strap.”

“Oh my god, Max,” you laughed. “So, you liked it?”

He leaned back to look at you.

“You up for round two?” He asked.

“You want me to fuck you again?”

“On my back this time,” he nodded.

“Yeah, baby, I’ll fuck you.”

His hand moved to the back of your head to pull you in, kissing you hard. He was quickly licking into your mouth and making you moan. When he finally broke it, he looked at you with dark eyes, simmering with want.

“When you’re done making me meet god again,” his voice was low and husky. “It’s your turn.”

“I thought god was a woman with a strap? I don’t see any ladies here to show me a good time,” you smirked.

“That’s my god. You’re going to find out your god is a big dicked vampire who’s going to make you squirt on his first try.”

Your eyebrow rose.

“You really think you’re that good?”

The look he gave you was full of promise and made you clench.

“Oh, Sweetheart, I know I’m that good, and soon you’ll believe it.”

“You can try.”

“And I’ll succeed,” he kissed you passionately. “Give you the proper worship you deserve,” he murmured against your lips.

He pulled back to look at you.

“But first,” he said. “I want you to fuck my brains out, and I want to stare at your tits while you do it.”

You sighed.

“And kiss you,” he added, giving you puppy dog eyes.

“You wanna try the bigger dildo?”

He thought it over for a second.

“Bring it on,” he nodded. “Ruin me, Sweetheart.”

Part 2 - Masterlist

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