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joelscruff · 1 year

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feelings on fire (joel miller x f!reader) 18+ PART TWO

You can read part one here. i'm so grateful for the positive response for this on the first chapter, thank you so much for sharing your thoughts!! Things are already getting smutty, enjoy 💕 and here's my kofi if you'd like to leave a tip. summary: you're back from college for the summer, staying with your devout catholic parents in your childhood home while they order you around and try to keep authority over you. as an act of rebellion you ask your new neighbor mr. miller to teach you how to play guitar, but it turns out there's a lot more he wants to teach you. (no outbreak, no use of y/n) rating: 18+ explicit (minors, do not interact) warnings: age difference (reader is in her 20s, joel in his 50s), innocent/inexperienced reader, dirty old man joel, corruption (but it's consensual), praise kink (joel calls reader babygirl, sweetheart, etc), dirty talk, mentions of religion (reader's family are very catholic), fingering, masturbation word count: 8.1k ao3

You're relieved the next morning when you look out your bedroom window and see your father's police car and your mother's SUV missing from the driveway. They've both already left for work, which means no twenty questions to answer when you go downstairs, no grilling you about what exactly you're going to be doing today. But it's not like you'd tell them the truth anyway.

You pick your outfit very carefully, shoving modest sweaters and long dresses aside as you search for something specific for Mr. Miller. You want him to look at you again like he did yesterday; the thought makes your thighs clench together again as you dig through the depths of your closet. You settle on an old Sunday School dress that you probably haven't worn since you had your final growth spurt, baby blue and simple. You undress and tug it over yourself, trying to ignore the way it tightens uncomfortably around your chest; it's much too small but you're running out of options.

"That's sexy, right?" you ask your silent bedroom, peering in the mirror at yourself. You were much shorter when you wore the dress last; now the hem settles on your upper thighs, leaving your legs completely exposed. It hugs your curves and accentuates your breasts, cleavage pushed up against the neckline so much that it feels like they could pop out at any moment.

You pick up a discarded pink hoodie and zip it on over the dress, hiding where you're practically bulging out of the material. Maybe you'll take it off later, but for now you don't need any of your neighbors reporting to your parents that they saw you walking down the street half naked.

You spend way too long getting ready, changing things about your hair and makeup over and over until you know you can't put off leaving anymore. You grab a quick bowl of cereal and then, with a resigned look of determination, you swap your flip flops with sneakers and head out into the hot summer day.

Not too many people are outside yet; parents have already left for work, kids are still sleeping, dogs have already been walked. You make it to Mr. Miller's without having to say an awkward hello to anybody, for which you're grateful.

He's not sitting on the step when you get there and for some reason it stops you in your tracks, leaving you standing at the end of his walkway like you had yesterday.

What if he's at work, you dumbass?

You hadn't factored in the possibility that he wouldn't be home. You'd had this ridiculous notion that maybe he'd be waiting for you, watching both sides of the street until you appeared and batted your eyelashes and asked him if you could still take him up on his offer. You'd visualized the whole thing. Like a teenager.

Just knock. Just knock and if he's not there, go home and try again later.

You still haven't moved from the end of his walk when the front door suddenly opens. Your eyes widen in surprise as he appears on his front step in all his disheveled glory, putting his hand across his face to block the sun; he's barefoot, wearing jeans and a t-shirt with a band you don't recognize on the front, and his hair is sticking up in different directions like he's just woken up. He brings a blue coffee mug up to his lips and takes a sip, eyes on you when he brings it back down, giving you a wry smile.

"Good mornin', babygirl," he says with that deep and slightly rough voice, leaning against the door frame, "Was hopin' you'd come back."

You blink a few times, brain whirring and stuttering helplessly as you stare at him. He's so handsome, so much older and rugged and sexy. You feel your panties get wet again and you can't even be mad at yourself; you're too distracted by the gorgeous man in front of you, looking directly at you, calling you babygirl. He's probably older than your father and yet you can't find a single bone in your body that cares in the slightest.

"Hi." you say softly, almost a squeak.

He smiles a bit wider, "Changed your mind, huh?"

You nod quickly, not knowing what else to say. He glances down at your dress and without thinking you shakily grab the zipper on your hoodie, tugging it down and showing him the full thing. You watch with bated breath as his eyes trail to your chest, looking openly and unapologetically at your breasts. He chuckles to himself and looks at your face again, taking another sip of coffee.

"I was hoping... um..." you bite your lip, trying to find the words, "I, uh-"

"Just come on in, darlin'," he interjects, laughing lightly again, "Don't hurt yourself." He moves back from the door a bit, gesturing for you to come inside.

You don't need telling twice. You put your head down, trying not to show him how nervous you are as you walk up his patio steps and slide past him into his house. You can practically hear your parents' voices in your head: "Don't talk to strangers. Don't go into a stranger's house." You're rebelling in more ways than one today.

"That's a pretty dress," he says behind you once you're inside, and you hear him shut the door. No going back now.

"Thank you." you turn to look at him, feeling out of place standing in the house of a man you don't know. You're just in time to see him looking at your body again and your skin heats once more.

"What's your name, sweetheart?" he asks with a crooked smile, charming and natural. You tell him and he just smiles wider, tilts his head to the side, "That's pretty."

"Thank you," you say again, "Um, what's yours?"

"I'm Joel," he puts his hand out for you to take, "Joel Miller. Surprised you didn't ask your momma about me."

You take it and feel your knees go slightly weak at his firm grip, big hand dwarfing yours in size, "I - uh, I did. But she just called you Mr. Miller."

He smirks at that, squeezing your hand in his, "You wanna call me Mr. Miller too? You can."

"Um," you're not sure what to say, biting down on your lip again and feeling flustered when he doesn't release your hand, "Uh..."

"You're a shy one, aren't you?" he asks, voice going a bit soft, soothing, "It's alright, darlin'. I don't mean to make you nervous."

"I'm not." you say it too quickly and you both know it's bullshit. He drops your hand and you turn your attention to the room in front of you, an open concept living space with a kitchen on the opposite side; it's nice, although you're surprised someone is living alone in such a big house.

"So do you, uh...do you have a wife?" you figure you should probably get that out of the way first; you're already planning on sinning in one way today, you don't need to add adultery to the list.

"No, just me." he walks past you and gestures for you to follow him. You do, walking to the kitchen and watching him take a glass down from the cupboard and start filling it with water. You stand there awkwardly, smoothing your dress down a bit and looking around the room.

You're so fucking nervous. You don't even know what he's got on his mind, let alone whether or not you're ready to do it. You imagine he'll lead you up to his bedroom, maybe turn the lights off and close the curtains...light a candle? Put on some music? You hope he'll be gentle and slow, that he'll listen to you. You know from your college friends that most men your age aren't really good at setting the mood, knowing how to do things the right way. Maybe because Mr. Miller - Joel - is older... it'll be better?

"Here, sweetheart, breathe," he hands you the glass of water and you take it with trembling fingers, "You don't need to be scared of me."

"I'm not scared of you," you reiterate, shaking your head and taking a sip.

"Right. Just like you weren't scared yesterday?"

You frown and put the water back down on the counter, "I- I wasn't scared."

He chuckles, leaning against the kitchen island and tilting his head again as he looks at you, "Well darlin', I might've gone back in my house but I saw you from the window. You practically sprinted down the street," he smirks at the memory, "Seemed scared to me."

"I wasn't scared. I'm not scared." You're not sure you're telling him or telling yourself.

"You sure? You're all flustered" he murmurs, and suddenly he's reaching up to hold your chin between his fingers, turning your head toward him. Your lips part in surprise, trembling beneath his touch as his thumb strokes gently against your jaw. You feel your face get even hotter.

He smirks at your response, eyes casting up and down your face quickly before he releases your chin and grabs the glass of water from where you'd laid it back down, turning to pour the rest of it down the sink. While his back is turned you fight to regain your composure, willing all the blood to disperse from your face.

"Well, no time like the present," he says, turning back around and walking past you out of the kitchen, "Guitar's in the living room."

You stare after him, brow furrowing in confusion, "What?"

"You still wanna learn that song, don't you?" he calls behind him, picking up his guitar from where it's leaning against the wall. He sits down on the couch and gestures with his neck for you to come over, smug smile still plain as day on his face.

You slowly make your way over to him, heart pounding in your chest. You seat yourself beside him on the couch, close enough that he can show you his guitar but not close enough that you're touching him. You may want him to touch you desperately but that doesn't change the fact that you're still freaking out right now. Because what does he want? You'd genuinely thought he'd meant something different yesterday with that comment about your fingers. He'd been flirting, hadn't he? Or is that just his nature?

"It's a simple chord progression," Mr. Miller - Joel - immediately begins to demonstrate. He strums on the strings, aligning his fingers carefully at the neck of the guitar and angling it in such a way that you can see what he's doing, "We start with an A and then go into G major pretty quickly."

You watch his fingers, long and almost delicate now as he presses his fingertips to the strings, holds them down as he starts to thumb out a tune. Your lips part unconsciously, eyes trained fully on the tender way he caresses the strings, coaxes beautiful sounds out of the guitar with minimal effort.

"Then D," he murmurs, and you notice that his eyes are also directed at his fingers, making sure he's showing you correctly, like he actually cares that he does it right, "And E into F sharp."

It's not like he's speaking another language - you know basic music theory from simply going to school all your life - but you don't fully understand how the notes and chords he's talking about translate into his fingers, into the shapes they make, where they push down. You know nothing about playing guitar and he's only a few moments away from realizing that; you can't help but already feel humiliated. Why the fuck had you lied to him yesterday? What are you even doing here?

"It pretty much repeats like that the whole way through," he says, starting the song over and strumming a bit slower, showing you his chord changes more purposefully, "But as I said yesterday there's lot's of room for some adlibbin' here and there, doesn't have to be by the book."

You feel yourself nod, although you still have no idea what he's talking about. He suddenly stops his movements on the guitar, directing his eyes back to you. You swallow down the nervous lump in your throat once again, willing yourself to look back.

"Wanna give it a try?" he asks, and without waiting for your answer he hands you the guitar. You take it from him with wide eyes, your own hands fitting into place where his had been only seconds ago, still warm; it makes you shiver.

"Um," you look down at the guitar, trying to shape your fingers in a similar way to what he'd done. Your nose scrunches up in concentration and confusion.

"Starts with A," Joel says, and you look up from the guitar to see him smiling softly at you, urging you to play him something.

Your fingers stay frozen on the guitar, tongue darting out to wet your lips. You can feel anxiety burning in the pit of your stomach.

"Okay, now I'm scared," you admit, voice shaky and small.

He doesn't say anything; you look up again and see him peering at you thoughtfully, brow furrowed. You hope he's figuring it out internally so you don't have to say it out loud, admit what a fraud you are.

"...You don't know how to play, do you?" he asks finally.

You bite your lip and hang your head in shame, grip loosening on the guitar, "No. I'm sorry."

To your surprise he laughs, deep and genuine. You lift your head back up to see him settle back in the couch a bit, shaking his head as he grins at you. You can't help but feel yourself smile back at him.

"You're adorable," he says with a sincerity that puts your tummy in knots, your gaze averting his once again, "I mean it, I can't even be mad 'cause you're so sweet, darlin'."

"M'not," you mumble, slightly embarrassed as you hand the guitar back to him and shake your head, "I'm a liar."

He takes it from you, "Why'd you lie? Coulda said you didn't play, I wouldn't have judged you for it."

You shrug, still not looking at him, "I don't know, I..." you sigh, biting your lip, "I wanted... I wanted you to think..." You don't finish but you're pretty sure he understands, aware of him nodding slowly in your peripheral vision.

"You're sweet," he repeats, voice softer this time, "So sweet, babygirl."

You shiver again at the pet name, finally bringing yourself to look at him again. He's still looking at you, dark eyes boring into your skin, lips turned up into that wry smile again.

"C'mere," he says, even softer, and you watch as he open his legs, moves back a bit on the couch and pats the empty spot in front of him. You stare, breath hitching at the realization that he wants you to sit there, "I wanna show you somethin'," he urges, "I won't bite, promise."

With shaky legs you reposition yourself on the couch, getting up and sitting back down between his wide legs. As soon as you're seated he brings the guitar down into your lap and sits up a bit, pushes his chest against your back as his arms wrap around your nervous form, holding the guitar in front of you.

"Watch my fingers," he says quietly, and you find that his voice is speaking directly into your left ear, breath warm and welcome against your skin. You have no choice but to obey, not that you'd even want to make any other choice.

He curves his fingers along the neck of the guitar again, pushing down the strings in a few different places and holding it there. He strums firmly, the back of the guitar pushing lightly into your belly with the tension.

"That's a C chord," he murmurs, strumming again, "See where my fingers are?"

"Yeah," you reply, barely a whisper; your mouth has gone dry.

"You hold your fingers as hard as you can against the strings," he continues, "It hurts at first, when you're learning, but the longer you play the more you build up calluses. You know what calluses are?"

You shake your head, unable to speak, too lost in the warmth of his breath against the nape of your neck, the masculine smell of him tingling your nose. He pulls his hand back from the strings and brings it up near your face, showing you his fingers.

"These are calluses," he explains, referring to the deep grooves embedded in the tips of his fingers, "They help you hold the strings down easier so it doesn't hurt."

You stare at his fingers, getting lost in their length and size, their girth. You feel yourself becoming wet in your underwear, clenching around nothing at the thought of one of those calluses touching you down there where you need it most. Your breath hitches again, thighs rubbing together involuntarily.

"Lemme show you," he murmurs, and to your surprise he suddenly takes your left hand in his and brings it to the neck of the guitar. You watch with bated breath as he carefully positions your fingers over the correct strings, holds them there with his own, "Play that."

With your shaky right hand you thumb the strings at the base of the guitar, a clear chord ringing out into the open room. Your eyebrows raise in surprise and he laughs again, charming and soft.

"There you go," he says softly, "First chord. Good girl."

The words send another pulsating wave of wetness into your underwear and you tremble beneath his touch, feeling your brows furrow in pleasure at the feeling of him being so close to you while you feel like this. Your hips buck up a bit but you feel too good to be embarrassed.

"Somethin' wrong?" he asks you gently, voice still close to your ear, "You're all flustered again, babygirl."

You hum, closing your eyes tight for a moment and trying to breathe, but all you can smell is him. All you can feel is him. You swallow tightly when you feel his touch ghost against your thigh, eyes opening to see him press his palm wide against your bare skin. You watch with parted lips as his thumb strokes the skin just below the hem of your dress, eyes hazy when he pushes himself against you from behind a bit tighter.

"Why'd you really come here, sweetheart?" he breathes, almost a whisper, "Tell me the truth."

You take a deep and shaky breath and feel yourself leaning back into him, eyes closing again as he slowly strokes your thigh, "You know why," you whisper.

He hums in response, nosing your ear gently and breathing you in, left hand still holding yours tightly against the neck of the guitar, "I do," he murmurs. You feel as he presses a wet kiss against your earlobe, beard rough against your skin. Your eyes roll back when he takes it into his mouth, sucks gently on it while he squeezes your thigh.

You're in heaven, completely at his mercy as you fall back further against him between his legs, your own going lax and loose the more he touches you. No one has ever done this to you, put their mouth on any part of you that wasn't your lips, put their hands anywhere near where you're currently aching to be touched. You watch as Joel's fingers inch upwards along your thigh, slipping past the hem of your dress. You already know where he wants to put his fingers next.

"I'm a virgin," you squeak without warning, panic suddenly brewing in your stomach. His hand freezes on your thigh and he pulls back from your ear. Why the fuck did you say that?

Now he'll be a gentleman, he'll take you off his lap and tell you to leave, tell you he can't be the one to take your virginity. You've seen this in movies, read it in books, heard it firsthand from your friends in college. Men don't like the responsibility of being your first, don't like the idea of a girl getting attached to them. And Joel... he's a grown man and you're just a twenty one year old Catholic mess with way too much baggage. There's absolutely no way he'll want to touch you now.

"Let's put this down," he whispers, and carefully helps you move the guitar off your lap and place it to the side. Here it comes, he's gonna tell you to get up and go home. You wait for him to inevitably push you from the couch, awkwardly stand up and lead you to the front door.

But that doesn't happen. Instead, you watch with wide and confused eyes as he suddenly puts both hands on your bare thighs, squeezing them gently beneath his wide palms, "You ever been touched like this, darlin'?" he asks you quietly.

You shake your head, "N-no."

His thumbs stroke your skin softly, tenderly. You feel as he sits up a bit more and tightens his legs around you, holding you in place, "You like the way that feels?"

"Yes," you whisper, soft and secret, "Feels good."

"That's good, it's s'posed to," Joel murmurs, nosing your ear again, "Now let's pull up this pretty dress a little bit," the words send a shock to your system, eyes widening in surprise. He doesn't wait for you to help, just immediately goes for the hem of your dress and hikes it up your legs, exposing more of your bare thighs and a hint of your panties, blue and lacy to match your dress, "Oh, you're just a pretty little thing aren't you?" he breathes, voice hot against your ear, "You really never been touched?"

"Never," you repeat, and he just hums and presses a soft kiss to the nape of your neck, making your breath hitch, "Th-that doesn't bother you?"

"Not at all, sweetheart," he breathes, tightening his grip on your thighs; the feeling of his large palms on your flesh makes you whimper slightly, looking down at where he's holding you and shivering, "Makes me want you more than I already do."

Your pussy is throbbing in your panties and you're sure there must be a stain through your dress, through the couch. You rub your thighs together and whimper again, head falling back against Joel's shoulder. You feel him kiss your hair, watch as his hands slide up your thighs so his fingertips are just slightly touching the edges of your underwear.

"You're all wet, aren't you?" he asks softly, soothingly, "Been sittin' here soaking my couch this whole time, huh? Want me to touch you so bad, don't you, babygirl?"

You hear yourself make a strange noise through your teeth, a hnnng sound that makes him chuckle, "You like that, don't you? You like bein' my babygirl?"

"I do," you whisper.

"That's good," he murmurs, "That's real good, babygirl." His thumbs hook into your panties then, tugging gently, "Now let's take these off," he says, beginning to slide them down, "so I can take a look at this pretty little pussy you've been savin' just for me."

You both watch as your panties slip down your bare legs with ease, dress still hiding your pussy from him entirely. It's impossible not to notice the enormous dark spot in the fabric, glistening in the sunlight. You can't help but feel embarrassed.

"Oh, baby," he groans, fisting them in his hand and thumbing the dark spot tightly, "So wet."

"Why does that happen?" you ask, swallowing around the anxious lump in your throat, knowing you're just advertising your inexperience even more by asking.

"Means you're turned on, sweet girl" he explains, thumb still pressed firmly against the wet spot as he presses another wet kiss to your ear, sloppier this time, "I'm turnin' you on."

"You are," you agree shakily, "It happened last night too, after..."

"After?"

"After I dreamed about you."

He smiles against your skin, dropping the panties to the floor and bringing his hand back down to your thigh; his thumb is wet and sticky against your skin, "You're a naughty little thing, aren't you? Did you touch yourself? Make yourself come thinkin' about me?"

"No," you shake your head, "I haven't... I've never..."

He groans in understanding, but not in an irritated or angry way. It's arousal, you can tell by the way his legs tighten around your trembling form, pulling you in closer. He pulls up the hem of your dress and exposes your wet and aching pussy to the both of you, lips bare and soft against his couch. You hear his breath hitch behind you when it comes into view.

"Fuck," he says, voice low and rough with arousal, "Look at you."

He barely hesitates, reaching down and thumbing your outer lips with both hands, his other fingers splaying against your inner thighs. You squirm at the feeling, brows scrunching together when he gently pinches your soft lips and sucks your earlobe back into his mouth.

"So soft, babygirl," he whispers, releasing it with a wet pop, "Look at that." You don't think he's actually telling you to look, more-so talking to himself as he caresses the outer part of your pussy gently, "So pretty."

"I-um... I shaved it," you whisper, "Just in case."

"Babygirl, you didn't need to do that," he noses your ear and you feel his breath, hot and sticky against your skin, "Woulda been pretty either way."

You feel your cheeks warm, "My roommates said most guys don't like-"

"Am I most guys?" he whispers, and continues to stroke your pussy lips up and down with his thumbs, "You know how old I am, babygirl?"

"N-no." His touch is becoming too much, too distracting. It feels good to have him touching you like this but it's still not where you need him to touch you, the slick part inside that's absolutely aching for his fingers feeling desperately wetter.

"Why don't you take a guess, see how accurate you are."

"Um," you barely understand what he's even talking about, eyes trained on where he's stroking you, "F-fourty?"

He laughs immediately, "Now we both know that's not your real guess, sweetheart."

You bite your lip, watching his thumbs, "Well... I don't wanna... I don't wanna hurt your feelings."

He smiles, "You're sweet. But I don't care, darlin', gimme your real guess."

You sigh shakily, "Fifty."

"Close," he breathes, and you watch with a whimper as he begins to drag his thumbs up and down your wet slit, lips too puffy to show him what's beyond, "That's real close, bit higher."

Higher? Fuck.

"Fifty...three?"

He dips the tip of his thumbs ever so slightly inside your slit, then brings them out again and pushes your own wetness across your outer lips, making your skin glisten, "Higher."

"F-fifty five?"

"Fifty six," he finally says, still thumbing your juices all along your pussy. You're not sure how to respond, surprised by the number but also desperately turned on, waiting for him to finally slip inside where you're begging him to touch, "That make you uncomfortable?" he asks after a moment of silence, and you swear you hear a bit of hesitance in his question as his hands freeze, waiting for you to reply before he goes any further.

"No," you reply, shaking your head slowly, thoughtfully, "It doesn't."

"You're sure?" he asks quietly, and you can hear the sincerity in his voice, "Because I can stop, sweetheart. Just say the word, I'll let you go home."

You shake your head again, more frantically this time at the thought of him releasing you from his embrace, "I promise, Mr. Miller," you whisper, then quickly correct yourself, "Joel."

"You can call me Mr. Miller, babygirl," he whispers, and you watch with hooded eyes as he slowly pulls your swollen lips apart, exposing the innermost parts of yourself to his living room. Your mouth pops open in surprise, eyes widening at how wet and sticky you are, a big drop of your own wetness pushing past your aching hole and dribbling out onto his hand.

"Gonna take care of this perfect untouched pussy, I swear," he groans, rough and low in your ear, pinching your outer lips again as his gaze bores into your sopping cunt, "Gonna make her feel so good."

With wobbly legs Joel had helped you up from the couch, chuckling when you'd tripped up almost immediately. With sure and steady hands he'd straightened you up, carefully removed your hoodie and discarded it on the couch, "Won't need this," he'd said softly, "Let's go get in my bed, sweetheart."

Now he holds you on the edge of his bed, inside a bedroom that feels cozy and masculine, that smells like him. His bed wasn't made when he'd lead you inside but other than that he has a clean bedroom, small and comfortable. He now has you sitting in his lap with your legs wide, hooked over his own while you both face the full length mirror on the wall.

"W-what are we doing?" you ask breathlessly, feeling slightly embarrassed at your reflection in the mirror. Your cheeks are still hot, hair messy and dress falling off, positively debauched and certainly no longer the good little Catholic girl your parents raised. You watch as Joel fingers the hem of your dress again and slowly pulls it up, exposing your dripping pussy to the mirror and to the both of you.

"Wanna show you what I'm doing," Joel murmurs, coaxing your legs even wider and pulling apart your swollen lips once again, showing you the untouched part of yourself you've never seen before, "How else are you gonna learn if you can't see, babygirl?"

You nod slowly, watching as he spreads you wide. You bring your eyes up to his face in the mirror to see the way he's watching you. His eyes are dark and lustful, hair still tousled from the early morning, scruff thick and scratchy against your neck and shoulder. He follows your gaze and peers into your eyes in the mirror, pulls you wider; you squirm a bit and close your eyes, feeling slightly embarrassed at the sight.

"You're shy, arent you?" he whispers, a smile in his voice.

"I've just... I've never..." you shake your head, opening your eyes again to turn and look at him, forgetting about the mirror for a moment, "No one's ever looked at me like this before."

He smiles softly at you, somehow tender and fond despite the part of him that clearly wants to devour you, corrupt you. He takes one hand and brings it to your chin, tilts your face up to his and presses a sweet kiss to your lips, gentle and soft. You kiss him back, eyes closing as you slowly breathe him in, feel his beard rub tantalizingly against your cheek.

"You've done that before, haven't you?" he asks you once he pulls away, finger still on your chin as he looks deep into your eyes, "You've been kissed?"

You nod but bite your lip, "Yes, but...not like that."

He tilts his head, "Like what?"

"Like they really want me," you whisper, eyes falling to his lips and silently wishing he'll do it again, "Like they're not holding back."

Almost like he can read your mind, he leans forward and presses his lips to yours once again, this time gently easing his tongue inside your mouth. You take it openly, loving the way he pushes it against yours, smooth and wet. He tastes like coffee; it's pleasant and warm and you're so distracted by the kiss that you don't realize he's taken his hand from your chin and moved it back to your pussy, carefully sliding his index finger beyond your lips and stroking upward.

Your hips buck immediately, still kissing him hard and loving the way he doesn't pull back, doesn't slow things down or even speed things up, just keeps it to your comfort level, lets you decide what the kiss is. You moan against his mouth when you feel the callus on the tip of his index rub lightly against a particularly sensitive spot. It's only then that you feel you need to pull away for breath, leaving your forehead pressed against his and letting out a long exhale.

"You really needed that, didn't you?" he murmurs softly, calm and gentle, "My babygirl needs to be touched so bad, doesn't she?"

You nod frantically, opening your eyes again, "Please, Mr. Miller," you breathe shakily, "Please make me feel good."

He groans again, closes his eyes and pushes himself up into you; you can suddenly feel something very hard beneath your dress and you're not entirely uneducated; you know exactly what it is. Out of curiosity you grind down a bit on him and he presses his lips to your neck again, humming against the skin.

"That's my cock, you know that right?" he breathes, "You ever felt a cock, sweetheart? Even through someone's clothes?"

You shake your head, feeling that familiar nervousness in the pit of your stomach at the thought. He must sense your uneasiness because he immediately pulls himself up a bit, pushes you forward so you're not seated directly on top of the hard shape of him anymore.

"Don't worry about that, today's lesson is about you," he says soothingly, stroking your pussy again and making you tremble, "I'm gonna teach you how to come, okay?"

You inhale shakily, feeling slightly relieved; it's not that you don't want to see his cock - God knows you really do - but you're so inexperienced, you really have no idea what you're doing. You feel excited - and kind of touched, in a way - that Joel is going out of his way to teach you exactly what you've been missing, things you've only heard about. Today's lesson....it repeats in your mind as you watch him touch you in the mirror, thumbing your lips wide; does that mean there'll be more?

"Okay, babygirl, here's what we're gonna do," he murmurs, breaking you away from your thoughts. "See this lil' nub right here?" You nod, peering in the mirror at the tiny hooded bump Joel is lightly prodding, sending a buzzing electricity throughout your body, "That's your clit, she's the most sensitive part of your pussy."

"I knew that," you breathe "I think."

He smiles at your reply, "You're gonna touch your clit, that's all you're gonna do. Just touch it and rub it until you feel yourself gettin' close," he moves his hand up to palm your stomach, "You'll feel it right here, in your belly. You'll know it's comin'."

"Okay," you whisper, nodding again.

"When you feel it buildin' in there, you tell me, and I'll make you come."

"And coming...that means..." you wince at your stupidity, "That's an orgasm, right?"

"Yes, darlin'," he murmurs; his face is suddenly blocked by your face as he kisses the back of your neck but you swear you can hear him smile, "That's an orgasm. I'm gonna give you your first orgasm, that sound good?"

"Yes," it's almost a squeak, desperate and shaky. You watch in the mirror as Joel takes your right hand and carefully brings it to your pussy, extends your index finger alongside his own and gently presses down, "Oh," you whimper, hips bucking again, "Oh."

"You're okay," he reminds you softly, prodding your finger harder against yourself, "It's just like the guitar, you gotta be firm."

It feels incredible, both yours and Joel's fingers tapping the tiny bundle of nerves with a steadiness you know is only possible because of him. Without his guidance you probably would have already dropped your hand, overwhelmed by the sensation.

"And now you rub," he explains softly, thumb and pinky curling around your other fingers as he holds your index steady, rubs it back and forth against your clit. Your mouth pops open, eyes going hazy again as you watch his movements in the mirror, "There you go," he whispers, and you catch him watching your expression, the pure bliss in your eyes as he makes you feel something you've never felt before, "Good girl, sweetheart, that's it."

"Oh my God," you breathe, aware that you probably shouldn't be taking the Lord's name in vain at a moment like this, but somehow the act feels almost godly in itself, a sensation of pure pleasure that you've never felt before travelling all throughout your body, "It feels- oh my God."

"Tell me," Joel breathes behind you, still holding your hand and letting you slowly start to rub yourself on your own, taking the lead, "Tell me how it feels, baby."

"It's- it's so good," you whine, tossing your head back against his shoulder, "Mr. Miller," you shake your head frantically, "I feel it already, Mr. Miller, in my stomach."

He seems genuinely surprised at that, eyebrows raising in the mirror, "Okay, babygirl," he whispers, "Lemme make you come."

He removes your hand, places it on your thigh. Without any hesitation you bring it up to grip his arm, holding it tightly as he brings his own hand back down to your pussy and starts to rub your clit again, this time at his own pace. Your jaw drops, eyes rolling back as he stimulates you perfectly, finger stroking back and forth at a pace that sends a wet squelching sound throughout the quiet room. You can't even feel embarrassed, too overwhelmed by the feeling of finally being touched.

You can't see the mirror anymore, head tilted back so far against Joel's body that you're just staring at his ceiling, mouth open wide as numerous loud and completely uncharacteristic sounds blare from your mouth, long and high and indiscernible.

"That's it," he groans in your ear, a deep rumble that urges you on as he continues to rub you furiously, "There you go, there you go. Fuck, babygirl, give it to me. Fuckin' give it to me."

His words send you over the edge and you feel yourself stiffen in his lap, legs shaking uncontrollably as you writhe within his grasp. He slows his movements, coaxes you through it, continues to whisper praises in your ear as you have your very first orgasm in his arms. Your chest is heaving with exertion as you cry out, tears stinging your eyes.

"Mr. Miller," you whimper, closing your eyes and letting him hold you tight, your grip loosening on his arm, "Mr. Miller." It's like a prayer, the way his name rolls off your tongue. Not even an hour has passed since you first stepped foot in his house and you're already prepared to make Joel Miller your new God, kneel before him and give thanks for everything he's just done for you.

"Shhh," he coos, removing his fingers and letting you relax into his embrace, "You're alright, I've got you."

You continue to whimper and shake, vaguely aware of him slowly beginning to lay flat against the edge of the bed, taking you with him. You lay on top of him, breathing heavily.

"So good," you whisper, voice positively wrecked from what he's just done, "Felt so good."

"I know," he murmurs back, kissing your hair again and wrapping his arms around your middle, "I know, baby."

"M'gonna fall asleep," it's barely a whisper now, quiet and relaxed, "Sorry." You don't last long enough to hear what he says in response.

You wake a bit later, confused for a moment when you open your eyes and are greeted by an unfamiliar ceiling. It's only when you look down at yourself and see Joel's duvet wrapped around you that it comes flooding back. You smile unconsciously, inhaling his scent and turning to bury your nose in his pillow. Everything smells like him now, including you.

You glance over at the clock on his bedside table: 12:04PM. You slept for a solid two hours. It doesn't surprise you, not after the shitty sleep you had last night and the absolutely ridiculous orgasm he gave you right before you drifted off, but still....two hours? And he didn't wake you?

You sit up slowly, squinting at the afternoon sun flooding through the blinds on his window. You swear you can hear some faint music coming from somewhere, a stereo nearby? A car passing? Then, your eyebrows shoot up as you fling yourself out of bed and run to the window, opening it up and peering down at the patio below.

Joel is sitting on his front step again, wearing different clothes now; he must have showered after you'd fallen asleep...probably took care of himself as well. The thought makes you shiver but you push it away, instead focusing on the lovely sounds emanating from his guitar, a slow and gentle tune that instantly relaxes you.

You pull back from the window and face the mirror nearby, assessing yourself. You're still the same person you were a few hours ago but something is different; your hair is a mess, makeup smudged, dress disheveled. With a bit of hesitance you slowly pull up the hem and expose yourself, eyeing yourself down there where Joel had touched you. You find that it doesn't make you as nervous to look at it now, unable to help the small smile that appears on your face when you remember the way Joel had worshipped it mere hours ago.

The memory of Joel has you leaving his bedroom quickly, descending the stairs in his house and walking into the open living space once again. You spot your hoodie on the couch and grab it, zipping it back on as you search for your panties; they're nowhere to be found. Your brow furrows as you pull up a few of the couch cushions but come up emptyhanded.

You smooth your dress down; it's long enough that it doesn't show you're not wearing underwear, but you'll probably have to hold it down when you walk home. The last thing you want is to expose yourself to one of your elderly neighbors.

You take a few deep breaths and walk to the front door, readying yourself to face the man who just gave you the best experience of your life. As soon as you open it he turns on the step, still playing his relaxing tune and looking you up and down.

"Hi," you breathe, a little shy, playing with your hands a bit as you walk toward him.

"Hi, babygirl," he says with a kind smile, nodding to you, "Sleep good?"

"Yeah," you reply, shuffling over and settling down beside him on the step, "Sorry, I didn't mean to sleep for so long."

He smiles again, tilts his head, "You can sleep in my bed as long as you want, darlin'. Any time."

You feel your skin burn, looking down at your bare knees and biting your lip. He keeps playing the song, humming to himself as he does it; it's not a tune you recognize but that doesn't matter, just listening to him play is enough to make you feel warm and fuzzy.

There it is, you think to yourself, the attachment. It's already starting.

You look up at him again, smiling fondly at his look of concentration as he strums steadily. Your gaze falls to his fingers on the neck of the guitar and you swallow, remembering all too well where exactly they've been. The song finishes on a long and sweet note, positive and lovely. You can't help but playfully clap for him, grinning when he rolls his eyes and lays the guitar behind him.

"What song was that?" you ask, eyes bright as he peers over at you.

"Aha, Take on Me," he replies with a smirk, "Never heard that one?"

You shake your head.

"Wow, you really are just a kid, aren't you?" he murmurs, giving you another once-over before he turns back to look at the street, still pretty empty. Your brow furrows at his words, suddenly unsure.

"Is that...does that bother you?" you ask hesitantly.

He turns back to you and immediately shakes his head, "Not at all, sweetheart. Just means I have a lot more to teach you."

Your skin tingles at that and you feel yourself throb uncomfortably against his wooden step. You look down at yourself, making a face.

"What is it?"

"I'm already..." you shake your head, feeling embarrassed, "It's... I'm wet again."

"Jesus," he groans, almost laughing as he tilts his head back and looks over at you with a wide grin, "Don't say that to me, babygirl. Not when you gotta head home."

You look at him, confused, "I do?"

He nods, frowning slightly, "Your momma drove down the street about ten minutes ago, figure she'll probably be wonderin' where you are."

You sigh exasperatedly, rolling your eyes, "I'm so sick of living with my parents. I can't wait to go back to college."

"Poor baby," he says softly, "C'mere." He pats his knee and you go to sit on it but freeze, assessing the street.

"What if someone sees?" you ask quietly, unsure.

He seems to think for a second, then nods and takes your hand. He helps you stand up and leads you quickly into the foyer of his house again, shutting the door and wrapping his arms tightly around you.

"Mmmm," he hums into your hair, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, "You smell so sweet, darlin'."

"I smell like you," you whisper back, unable to hold back your grin, "I smell like...sex."

He holds you tighter and pulls back to look at you, tilting your chin up and leaning down to kiss your lips. It's soft and unhurried; he still tastes like coffee, bittersweet and delicious,

"You come back here any time you want, okay?" he murmurs against your lips, "I mean it, any time. But especially when that pussy's wet and achin' for me. I'll give her what she needs, babygirl."

You shiver and lean up to capture his mouth again, nodding through the kiss and whispering, "I will, Mr. Miller."

You walk home quickly, holding your dress down and feeling more rebellious than you've ever felt in your life whenever the warm summer breeze ruffles past the fabric and onto your bare pussy, reminding you that you're not wearing any panties. They're lost somewhere in Joel's house; the thought gives you butterflies.

Your mother is bustling around in the kitchen when you get home, putting away groceries. She's distracted enough that she doesn't notice when you slip past the kitchen and head upstairs to change your clothes.

After showering - something you desperately didn't want to do but had to - you change into a more modest outfit and retreat back down the stairs, walking into the kitchen so your mom knows you're back.

"Oh, where were you?" she asks, chopping up a carrot on a cutting board in front of her, barely looking up, "Did you meet up with Bethany? Alice?"

Oh shit, you hadn't thought of a cover story, "Uh, yeah, met up with both of them."

"Lovely," she replies with a smile, finishing chopping and turning to look at you, "And they're well?"

"Yep," you nod, hopefully not too much, "I, uh, might be helping out at the soup kitchen soon."

Your mother claps her hands together and walks toward you, "Oh, I'm so happy to hear that," she suddenly furrows her brow, looking at your face with slight confusion, "Are you alright, dear?"

"O-oh, just... just warm from my shower."

She smiles and nods, turning away from you again, "Could you help me chop some veggies? I'm making soup tonight, might be good practice for when you're volunteering."

"Yeah, sure. No problem."

You reach up and touch your face one last time, feeling the heat still etched beneath your skin that you know for a fact is certainly not from your shower. You take one last steadying breath, then walk forward to help your mother.

You come back here any time you want, Joel's voice echoes in the back of your mind. You start to wonder how long you'll be able to last, but you already know the answer.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #tlou fic #*#fic: feelings on fire

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fangirl-dot-com · 5 months

Text

Chapter 15 - Oh no! Oh wait, sorry, ahem - AUR NAUR

It's race number 3! Since I have a master list and didn't want the chapters to get so mundane and have the same story line, I have decided to skip a couple of the races. And each chapter won't be the whole race either. I might just decided to focus on one aspect of the race and add in the results after!

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

So anyway - it's LIGHTS OUT AND AWAY WE GO AT THE 2024 AUSTRALIA GRAND PRIX

Jeddah Results

Max Verstappen + 25

Charles Leclerc +18

Fernando Alonso +15

Lando Norris +12

Lewis Hamilton +11

Y/n L/n +8

George Russell +6

Oscar Piastri +4

Daniel Ricciardo +2

Carlos Sainz +1

Alex Albon +0

Lance Stroll +0

Logan Sargeant +0

Pierre Gasly +0

Yuki Tsunoda +0

Esteban Ocon +0

Zhou Guanyu +0

Kevin Magnussen +0

Nico Hulkenberg +0

Valtteri Bottas +0

Standings after Jeddah

Max Verstappen – 50 points

Charles Leclerc – 36 points

Lando Norris – 23 points

Lewis Hamilton – 23 points

Y/n L/n – 23 points

Fernando Alonso – 16 points

George Russell – 12 points

Carlos Sainz – 9 points

Oscar Piastri – 8 points

Daniel Ricciardo – 2 points

Alex Albon – 2 points

Lance Stroll – 0 points

Logan Sargeant – 0 points

Pierre Gasly – 0 points

Yuki Tsunoda – 0 points

Esteban Ocon – 0 points

Zhou Guanyu – 0 points

Kevin Magnussen – 0 points

Nico Hulkenberg – 0 points

Valtteri Bottas – 0 points

Constructors Standings after Jeddah

Red Bull – 73 points

Ferrari – 45 points

Mercedes – 35 points

McLaren – 32 points

Williams – 2 points

Aston Martin – 3 points

Racing Bulls – 15 points

Alpha Romeo – 0 points

Haas – 0 points

Alpine – 0 points

RACE TIME

Your helmet was already on as you waited for the final round of qualifying to start. The first five out were Zhou, Pierre, Kevin, Nico, and Valtteri. Then Yuki, Lance, Logan, Alex, and surprisingly Carlos followed them out in the second round. You were glad that you had been on the upper level for all of the free practices and the first rounds of quali. You were finally given the signal to get back into the car.

Your legs squeezed into the form fitting area that was there to keep you in. With eyes glancing at the screen in front of you, the data seemed good for today. You knew that you didn’t want to jinx a podium. You were lucky enough to get third place the first race and then in your opinion, a lousy P6 in Jeddah. Everyone around you had told you that it was a great placing for a rookie. But you were hungry.

And only the top step could satiate that hunger.

With a wave of a mechanic’s hand, you were given the signal to go ahead. You had completely your first lap, which set you up in the lower level at position 6. You wouldn’t be doing your second flying lap until Oscar completed his. At this point, you had been bumped up to position 4 with Oscar in position 5. And you knew he wanted to get around you, hence the second flying lap.

Your car was sailing smoothly as you warmed your tires to have one more try to get higher on the leaderboard. Yet ahead, Esteban Ocon was doing something weird, but it didn’t raise any flags. You kept your distance as he suddenly slowed down a lot on one corner. It was going well, until Mitch suddenly came on the radio.

“Kid you have to get out of the way. Piastri approaching on his flying lap.”

You were going too fast behind Ocon.

You pressed the button. “Where the hell am I supposed to go? Ocon is not moving or speeding up.”

In a final try to not hit him, you swerved to go around. But, that was the moment that Oscar came flying around the corner. You were just around the Alpine car when something hit the back of your car.

“Shit!”

David Croft’s voice could be heard for the viewers.

“There goes the Red Bull of Y/n L/n and the McLaren of Oscar Piastri! They were close together around the corner as Piastri was on his flying lap and they made contact! Looking back it seems as though the Alpine of Esteban Ocon had suddenly slowed down and L/n had nowhere to go. The stewards will definitely be looking at that. Those two will not be happy. And there is the red flag, ending the session early.

“We have Max Verstappen with a pole position followed by Leclerc, and then Daniel Ricciardo, which is his best position in years and it’s on home turf. He will be followed by L/n, unless she received a penalty, and then Piastri in P5 with his teammate Lando Norris in P6. The two Mercedes take P7 and P8 with Russell then Hamilton. Then last but not least Fernando Alonso followed by Esteban Ocon, unless he also receives a penalty for possibly causing a collision.”

Now, your car didn’t go flying, but you did end up off the track. And to your right was the bright orange (papaya) livery of one Oscar Piastri.

“What the actual fuck? What was he thinking?” You moaned out as you began to unstrap your seatbelt.

“Are you ok kid?” Christian’s concerned voice came over the radio. Back at the garage, Mitch, Christian, and Max were all watching. Max had a comfortable pole position.

You pressed the button again. “Yeah, I’m ok. How’s Oscar? Christian I’m so sorry.”

A sigh of relief left the older Brit’s mouth. “It’s not your fault kid. We’ve brought it up with the stewards.”

Max’s voice sounded through the radio again. “That was Ocon’s fault. I don’t know what the fuck he was thinking.”

With Oscar, it was a similar story. The Aussie pressed his radio.

“What the hell was that?” Normally, Oscar wouldn’t rage over his radio, but this was different.

Tom Stallard answered the younger driver. “What we’re seeing is Ocon slowed way down and L/n had nowhere to go.”

Oscar huffed. “What position did I end up with?”

“Uh, P5 mate. Sorry, I knew you wanted higher.”

With a grunt, Oscar grasped the halo and pulled himself up. His helmet-clad head turned in your direction, and he was surprised to see that you hadn’t gotten out yet. He was immediately swarmed by marshals as he stepped onto the grass.

“Is she ok?” he questioned, body still turned to you. However, the marshal that held his arm just gently tugged him toward the car.

You sighed as you just sat for a moment. Bruises would definitely appear later on your front. “Is Oscar ok?”

Mitch had finally gotten her radio back. “He’s out. Just be gentle. He and you don’t need to go to the hospital. Now, undo your steering wheel and go to the car please.”

You listened to Mitch and quickly undid your wheel. However, your blood was boiling. Quoting Mad Max, you hoped you wouldn’t see the French driver back at the pits, for his sake. Gentle your ass, it was going to be on sight.

A grunt left your lips as you lifted yourself you using the halo. Your front burned as you did it, you needed to check on, well, your friend.

Multiple marshals tried to check on you, but you batted their arms away. Your steps quickened as you stalked toward the papaya driver. You knew cameras were following you, and you scolded yourself for not reigning in your angry expression.

“Oh no. Looks like L/n is mad. Does Red Bull have a thing for drivers with anger issues?” Crofty joked in the announcer’s box as he watched you take strides across the grass.

Oscar, who was still pulling against the woman, finally saw you storming toward him, almost knocking people over. He stiffened as you were now close, ready for anything. Technically, you were in the wrong, but no one had ever seen you angry yet.

He was surprised when arms tightly wrapped around him and squeezed him. A sniffle left your nose as Oscar wrapped his arms back around you. Shoulders shaking on your end, he started to rub your back in comfort.

“I’m so sorry,” you all but sobbed to him, still muffled by your helmet that was currently pressing up against his chest. You hadn’t planned to cry, but you felt terrible.

“I’m ok,” he whispered back. He knew he needed to get you away from the cameras so he gently guided you over to the car. Once the two of you were hidden behind the black SUV that came to pick you up, the two of you took your helmets off.

“There was nowhere for me to go! Ocon suddenly stopped. It was either just ram into his car or try to get around him in time. I guess the second option wasn’t a good option either.” You told him as they two of you rode back to the pits.

The moment the two of you were out, you were swarmed with both Red Bull and McLaren personelle. Max, Lando, and Charles were also there. You had calmed down on the ride there, but now your blood was boiling once again.

Your head swerved back and forth as you tried to find the French driver. Max must have caught on to your expression, because he put both hands on your shoulders and tried to direct you back to the home garage.

You tried to shrug his hands off. “Max, I need to find him.”

“Kid, no. It won’t do anything.”

By now, Charles had also stepped in front of you, trying to dissolve your want to find Ocon.

But the world was against the two drivers today as your eyes spotted him. And, you guess he didn’t think you’d be angry as he almost pranced over with a smirk on his face. You suddenly shoved your body against Max’s as you tried to push toward Esteban.

Your finger pointed over Max’s shoulder. “You fucking prick!”

That smirk faded on Esteban’s face as he saw your fuming expression. By now, you had attained a small crowd around you as you tried to keep pushing your way through. Daniel, and now Arthur, was also standing behind Max, trying to keep you contained.

“What did you think would happen? Huh? You fucking slow down to the left with me going toward you on someone’s flying lap?” You were surprisingly inching forward. “You could have seriously hurt someone!”

A hand suddenly was placed on your shoulder. Your eyes followed the arm and you came face to face with your team principal. One look from him had you stop in your tracks, yet you weren’t done yelling.

“You better watch out Ocon. Also, I know that you took my fucking juice box from the fridge. That was mine!”

Once you were finished, you harshly shrugged off Christian’s hand and stalked back toward your driver’s room.

Every driver that was watching was frozen as they watched your figure leaving.

“Uh, what the heck just happened?” Max questioned, looking around.

Daniel laughed. “What are you teaching her Max? This is Brazil 2018 all over again.”

Max could only chuckle as he also remembered that specific grand prix. But, he had been able to actually get close to the French driver. You, not so much.

Arthur huffed. “I’ll go find her. She hasn’t done something like this since 2021.” Arthur shuddered at his mention of the year. He disappeared in your direction.

Oscar turned toward Charles. “What happened in 2021.”

Charles only had a smirk on his face. “Let’s just say that someone ate her first for lunch and dinner.”

The group of men laughed as they each went back to their respective garages.

Turns out, there was nothing wrong with Ocon’s engine. He just didn’t know that you were right behind him. When you found out, you had more colorful words to follow.

Arthur had been able to calm you down by promising that you’d be able to hold a koala when the two of you went to the Australian Zoo the Monday following the race. You grumbled for the next hour as the two of you sat in your driver’s room, drinking juice box’s that Max dropped off.

News came out later that night that the stewards didn’t find any fault with you or Oscar. A giant sigh of relief fell out of everyone’s lips when the news was posted. Esteban, on the other hand, was handed a giant 10-place penalty. He would be starting P20 for the race. A content smile had graced your face for the remainder of Saturday night.

Sunday was thankfully a much happier story.

Starting Grid:

Max Verstappen

Charles Leclerc

Daniel Ricciardo

Y/n L/n

Oscar Piastri

Lando Norris

George Russel

Lewis Hamilton

Fernando Alonso

Carlos Sainz

Alex Albon

Logan Sargeant

Lance Stroll

Yuki Tsunoda

Valtteri Bottas

Nico Hulkenberg

Pierre Gasly

Zhou Guanyu

Kevin Magnussen

Esteban Ocon – 10-penalty

You were almost dancing in the car as you were placed on the P4 place.

Mitch came over the radio for the check. “Kid what has you so happy?”

Your smile widened under your helmet. “Arthur said I can hold a koala tomorrow. And Vito should be currently hunched over my computer, trying to navigate Ticket Master so I can go to Eras Tour Part 2.” You were practically squealing.

Mitch, back at the garage, turned around to find your manager. And sure enough, there he was hunched over your computer with a stressed look on his face. She only chuckled before she went back to look at your strategy. She knew your tyre reservation was much better than Bahrain or Jeddah. Both those races had you ending in a lower position than you or the team wanted.

And speaking of the team, you had actually bought everyone as many coffees as they wanted after working on your car all night to get it ready for today.

When the lights went out, the RB20 truly felt like a rocket ship. Around the second half of the race, you were able to overtake both Daniel (who went a bit wide) and then on the second to last lap Charles (who locked up, allowing both you and Daniel to overtake him). You knew the Monegasque would be sad, but according to your calculations, he should still be second in the constructors championship since he and his teammate finished before both Mercedes.

But that was for a later time.

Once again, you were on the podium. But this time, it was second place. You could only smile as you saw Daniel in the cooldown room, talking with Max.

You immediately went and sat on your chair and watched the Dutchman and the Aussie have a good conversation before Daniel turned to you.

“I thought I had it and then you came out of nowhere!”

You giggled in response. “Well, we have to thank Charles since he opened the door for us to slip through. I thought I wouldn’t be able to catch up and I was all like oh no! Oh wait, sorry, ahem, aur naurrrr.”

Daniel only rolled his eyes at your attempt at the accent.

The three of you had fun on the podium. Almost as it was ending, Daniel suddenly leaned over to you and Max.

“Hey! You wanna do a shoey with me?”

Max looked disgusted but you looked elated.

“Hell yeah!” you yelled back. You quickly sat on the podium and undid your shoe along with Daniel. The crowds seemed to get louder as the two of you started filling the shoes. The shoes met together in a mock toast before you brought yours to your lips.

You grimaced as the smelly shoe got close to your mouth and the lukewarm champagne poured down your throat. But the cheers and Daniel’s smile was honestly worth it.

The sticky liquid frothed down your chin as you finally pulled the shoe away and were led off the podium. Daniel and your smiles wouldn’t go away.

“I cannot believe you two just did that,” Max grumbled as the three of you walked toward the teams.

“Want a kiss Maxie?” Daniel puckered his lips and put his face near Max’s. The rebuttal was a hand on his face and a shove in the other direction.

As Daniel said goodbye, he picked up his black backpack.

You waved goodbye. “Are we still up for the zoo tomorrow?”

“Yep kid. I’ll see you there!”

You left with Max and jumped toward the team! They welcomed the two of you with open arms! Life really was great.

Race Results

Max Verstappen + 25

Y/n L/n +18

Daniel Ricciardo +15

Charles Leclerc +12

Oscar Piastri +11

Carlos Sainz +8

Fernando Alonso +6

Lando Norris +4

George Russell +2

Lewis Hamilton +1

Logan Sargeant +0

Alex Albon +0

Yuki Tsunoda +0

Pierre Gasly +0

Zhou Guanyu +0

Valtteri Bottas +0

Lance Stroll +0

Kevin Magnussen +0

Nico Hulkenberg +0

Esteban Ocon – DNF

Standings after Australia

Max Verstappen – 75 points

Charles Leclerc – 48 points

Y/n L/n – 41 points

Lando Norris – 27 points

Lewis Hamilton – 24 points

Fernando Alonso – 22 points

Oscar Piastri – 19 points

Carlos Sainz – 17 points

Daniel Ricciardo – 17 points

George Russell – 14 points

Alex Albon – 2 points

Lance Stroll – 0 points

Logan Sargeant – 0 points

Pierre Gasly – 0 points

Yuki Tsunoda – 0 points

Esteban Ocon – 0 points

Zhou Guanyu – 0 points

Kevin Magnussen – 0 points

Nico Hulkenberg – 0 points

Valtteri Bottas – 0 points

Constructors Standings after Australia

Red Bull – 189 points

Ferrari – 110 points

McLaren – 78 points

Mercedes – 73 points

Aston Martin – 25 points

Racing Bulls – 32 points

Williams - 0 points

Alpha Romeo – 0 points

Haas – 0 points

Alpine – 0 points

y/n.89 has posted

y/n.89 little bump on Saturday, first team 1-2 with shoeys on Sunday, and Arthur and I were surrounded by Aussies on Monday! Couldn't have asked for a better weekend!

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, estebanocon, and 69,289 others

champagne-without_the_cham not Esteban in her likes

landonorris uuhhhh were was my invite??

logansargeant and mine? maxverstappen1 and mine? y/n.89 you two get Oscar all the time and Max, Daniel is your second wife, you all can chill

arthur_leclerc it was fun, but I definitely got way too close to the gators

y/n.nation the second picture was everything

change_ur_f-car I KNOW that someone used *crikey* at least once

y/n.89 yeah, it was George on FaceTime

redbullracing love to see our driver spending some koala-ty time in Australia! See you in Japan soon

danielricciardo had lots of fun darl, we'll do it again sometime!

redbullracing has posted *I know Danny's hat says 1st but just pretend it's not there*

redbullracing It was a 1-2 and shoey type of weekend! see you all at Suzuka soon

liked by y/n.89, danielricciardo, f1_fanatic, y/n_updates, and 98,294 others

dannyricc03 YEAH DANNY ON THE PODIUM

danny&max ikr and the fact that it was with Max and Y/n - my heart y/nsfav and she did the shoey with him!!!

y/n.89 contrary to everyone's beliefs, the shoey was not that bad

landonorris lies lewishamilton lies aussiegrit lies zbrownceo lies nicorosberg lies y/n.89 ALL RIGHT I LIED danielricciardo wait...

maxiel4ever sad Max didn't do the shoey, but we got good maxiel content

kidandmaxie man, y/n's already had 3 races and two of them had been podium! I'm guessing a p1 in suzuka! she's on a streak!

author aha it'd be a shame to mess. it. up. *this comment has been deleted*

y/n.fanclub JAPAN P1 WHOO! I FEEL IT

If you want a small continuation after Sunday's race - read this chapter of Besties For The Resties!

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @glitterquadricorn @laura-naruto-fan1998 @treehouse-mouse @sam-is-lost @kagatinkita @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @myxticmoon @angsthology @cmleitora @agent-curt-mega @graciewrote @ashy-kit @slutofmultifandom @aexitizen @sugarvibez @vellicora @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @cashtons-wife @aeh2 @hoetel-manager @xcharlottemikaelsonx @jayda12 @cassie0sstuff @ilove-tswizzle @justme2042 @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @stopeatread @cha-hot @sadg3 @iloveyou3000morgan @s4turnsl0ver @alessioayla @torchbearerkyle @leptitlu @awekbachira @shreks-sugar-daddy @v1naco @stan-josie @mellowarcadefun @badassturtle13 @beskardroids @callisposts

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buckyhad · 8 months

Text

Forever

Pairing: Dark!Carlos Sainz x reader

Warnings: NC thats it, based on this request!

Carlos was the sweetest boyfriend you have ever had, caring, tending to your needs, loving.

Until he got jealous, every little interaction between you and another men was a reason for him to lash out at you. Nothing serious, it was normal for your boyfriend to feel that way sometimes.

Except that time went he took it a little too far.

"That's the dress you are wearing tonight?" Carlos asked furrowing his brows.

"You don't like it?" You asked a little bit sad, tonight was another gala with the drivers about something you didn't remember anymore, choosing a red long dress, with a low cut and a high slit that you loved.

"Yes, I like it, but you are showing a lot" he said.

"Its just a part of my leg".

"Whatever" you knew he was already working himself up so you just decided to leave it there, thinking that going to the gala and getting some drinks in his system would help him calm down.

But you were so wrong.

You two arrived at the place an hour before, Carlos got some strong drink while you choosed some water, Carlos hated when you drinked.

Alone in some corner while Carlos was at the bar again, waiting for his order, when Charles, Carlos' teammate went to say hi to you, making Carlos start to march where you to were happily chatting, getting there just in time.

"I really like how that dress looks on you" Charles said touching the strap of your dress.

"Thanks you, I love the colour a lot" you said blushing a little bit, taking a step back from the monagesque.

"I know, she looks so nice" Carlos said with his hands on the pockets of his pants "We are going amor, grab your things".

---------

"That's why you used that dress? So you would get compliments from Leclerc?" Was the first thing he said when you got to the hotel.

"No! I really liked how it looks on me!".

"Stop lying!" He said grabbing your arm.

"The fuck is wrong with you" you screamed at him trying to get of his grip.

"You know how much I love you, why do you need to flirt with other guys?"

"I wasn't flirting" you whispered "I'm going to go now, let me go, please".

"I'm sorry amor, I didn't mean to grab you, I'm just so mad" he said looking at you with those pretty big brown eyes "Please, no te vayas (don't go)".

"I just need some time, to think you know".

"Te amo (I love you)".

"I know" you said closing the door and making your way out.

-------

You rented a small apartment on Spain, wanting to be alone for a week, not talking or seeing Carlos.

But he had other plans, leaving at least 50 missed calls per day and thousands of unread messages.

-----

By the fifth day without knowing anything about him, someone knoked on your door, being as tired as you were lately, you just opened the door without looking.

Feeling a hand on your mouth while the person closed the door you felt their breath by your ear.

"You need to be more careful, someone could hurt you" Carlos said.

You tried to take his hand off while he was pushing you towards the table.

"I'm going to take my hand off, you better not start screaming" he said and chuckled "At least not yet".

"What are you doing" you started crying, feeling how his hand pushed your upper half onto the table, and hold you there, while his other hand pushed your dress up and your panties down.

"Read your texts with Charles, 'I'm so sorry that you fighted with Carlos, I'm here if you need anything'" he recited while starting to get his tip wet with some spit.

"Please, he just wanted to be nice. You've lost your mind" you cried feeling how he pushed inside you "Carlos you know I'm not in anything, pull out. Please" got out between sobs.

"Well, you would be mine forever now".

A/N: I'm sososo sorry this took so long, I've been studying for an exam (went sl fucking wrong) and now I've another one, anyways, FORZA FERRARI SEMPRE, happy Carlos won today, sad how they didn't listen to Charles AGAIN

#charles leclerc smut #f1 fanfic #lando norris smut #carlos sainz smut #max verstappen smut #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #pierre gasly smut #max verstappen x reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x reader #dark!carlos sainz #carlos sainz x y/n

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finnsbubblegum · 1 year

Text

I Don’t Deserve You {Part 1} (Joel Miller x Reader)

Pairing: post-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

Warnings: fluff, protective joel, use of (y/n) and (y/l/n), age gap (reader is in her 20s and Joel is in his 50s), mentions of abuse, vague mentions of period (lmk if i missed any)

Summary: You were popular in Jackson but you have been single your whole life. Despite many men flirting with you, you have never found your ideal type. Until one day, you saw Joel and you fell in love at first sight. But he felt insecure.

Words count: 2.2k

A/N: There will be part 2 for this one so stay tuned!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

“Hey (y/n)! You’re here!.” Your friend, Lily greeted you.

“Hi Lily! It’s Friday night and I have nothing to do at home. I heard tonight is the kids’ movie night. I thought I’d stop by and see my students. What are they playing tonight?”

“The Lion King. It's the third time they’re playing it again. Ugh.”

“Oh! Well, I can’t blame them. Kids love The Lion King. ”

You were a teacher in Jackson so you knew how much the kids love that movie. They would ask you to sing Hakuna Matata every day in school.

“(y/n) look there.” Lily gave you a sign to look behind you.

You were familiar with Tommy and Maria. But you didn’t recognize the other two. You saw a man who looked similar to Tommy but older and a teen girl walking inside following Tommy and Maria.

“Newcomers?” You asked Lily.

“They came a while ago. I heard his name is Joel Miller.”

“Miller? So he’s Tommy’s brother then?” You tilted your head.

“I’m guessing older brother. He came with the girl. I assumed she’s his daughter. But no wife. Probably single.” Lily smirked and lightly bumped her elbow to you.

Lily knew you’ve been single your whole life. You were pretty popular in Jackson. You were beautiful inside out and everyone adored your kind and altruistic self. You have had many men flirting with you but you have never found “The One”.

“Why are you giving me that face?” You slapped Lily’s upper arm.

You were slightly annoyed with Lily’s action but deep down you liked it. He was probably a lot older than you but you couldn’t deny the fact that the middle-aged man looked hot with his salt and pepper hair. His shoulder was broad and he was a lot taller than you. His face didn’t look friendly but you could see a strong man from his eyes.

“Well, I mean he looked pretty hot for his age.” You put your hand behind your neck awkwardly.

“I know right! Why don’t you try and go talk to him?” Lily pushed you.

“Oh no no, that’s not why I’m here today. I’m here to watch a movie with my students.”

“Ugh..You’re no fun (y/n).” Lily crossed her arms.

“Okay, enough talking about men. Now, I’m gonna get me some popcorn and enjoy The Lion King.” You walked away giving a mocking face to your friend.

“Ms. (y/l/n)!” A little boy called you and hugged your legs.

“Hey Timmy! Are you here with your parents?” You crouched to be the same height as the little boy.

“Yes! There!” Timmy pointed his index finger to show you where his parents were.

“Do you want some popcorn?” You smiled as you caressed his hair.

“Yes! Yes!” He jumped excitedly.

“Okay, Timmy. Calm down.” You chuckled as you took two bowls of popcorn for you and Timmy.

“Here.” You gave Timmy his popcorn.

“Thank you, Ms. (y/l/n)!” He ran to his seat as the movie was starting.

Your heart was warm just by watching how excited the little boy was. You smiled as you stood up. You looked to your right and found Joel staring at you. He looked away immediately when you made eye contact with him. You pretended it never happened and walked to find a seat.

“Pretty, huh?” Tommy teased Joel.

“What?” Joel acted dumb.

“I know you were starin’ at that pretty girl right there, Joel. Don’t even think about it. All the men in Jackson have tried winning her heart but no one has succeeded.” Tommy scoffed.

“I wasn’t even thinkin’ about it.” Joel growled.

Joel lied. Deep down in his heart he thought you were attractive. You were beautiful in his eyes, especially the way you were so kind to the little kid before. For the past 20 years, kindness was something that was not common to see. So he felt warm in his heart when he saw someone so pretty and kind before his eyes.

The night ends with you having a split second of eye contact with Joel.

On Sundays, you took part in church services as one of the singers of the choir group. You were singing and found Joel sitting beside Tommy, Maria and Ellie. You saw him staring at you as you were singing. You tried to focus and avoid eye contact with him. Again, the two of you never had a conversation. Just eye contact. You went with your week without bumping into Joel. You couldn’t help thinking about him. He was your type and you wanted to get to know him more. But you were scared of how intimidating he looked and people were talking about how grumpy he was.

One week had passed since you saw Joel. It was Saturday night, you were suffocated in your bedroom as you couldn’t stop thinking about him. After a few moments of rolling on your bed, you decided to go to the bar where Lily worked.

“Oh, (y/n). I’m glad you’re here. One of our workers didn’t come to work today. We need help. Will you help us?” Lily sighed and gave you the puppy eyes.

“Yeah, sure. Why not?” You followed Lily behind the bar counter and put on the apron she gave you.

“Thank you so much. You’re my lifesaver. So, you know the drill, right? You’ve helped me here a few times before.” Lily put her hands to hold your upper arm.

“Of course.” You nodded.

Apparently, you have always helped Lily at the bar whenever she needed help. You loved your friend so you were always there to help her whenever you were available. It was hectic for a few hours then people were starting to leave. That was the moment you saw Joel walking inside towards you. He chose a seat in front of the bar counter. You were wiping some glasses as he sat in front of you.

“What can I get you?” You asked him.

“Just a glass of beer.” His eyes looked tired but he tried to give you a smile.

“Here.” You passed him the beer.

You were thinking maybe this was your chance to have a conversation with him. With the man who had been occupying your mind the whole week. You gathered your courage and started a conversation.

“Long day, huh?”

“Nearly got one of the guys killed on patrol today.” He told you as he drank his beer.

“Oh. Is he okay?” You tried to sympathize with him.

“He’s fine. Got a few stitches but he’s fine physically. I’m not sure about mentally.”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine.” Hoping your words could help him calm down.

He nodded and looked at you. You could see his lips moving. It looked like he was trying to say something but he was hesitating.

“You were amazing the other day.” He finally found his words.

“Huh?” You were confused.

“I saw you in church last Sunday.”

“Oh! You mean choir. Thank you.” You couldn’t hide your smile from his compliment.

You flinched as you heard Lily calling your name, cutting off your conversation with Joel. Joel was eavesdropping.

“(y/n)! Thank you so much for helping us. We have less customers now. You can go home and rest now. You can have a voucher for a free drink if you want.” Lily was grateful to have a friend like you.

“It’s nothing. That’s what friends are for. I’m always here to help. Anyways, can I have that free drink tonight?” Lily smirked as she knew what you were going to do.

You took off your apron and walked towards Joel.

“Can I join you?” You asked Joel.

“Sure.” He nodded and dragged the chair next to him for you to sit.

“I’m (y/n). I haven’t got your name.” You extended your hand to shake his hand.

“Joel. Joel Miller.” He shook your hand.

“Miller? As in Tommy Miller?” You pretended like you didn’t know him.

“He’s my brother. Younger brother.”

You hummed and nodded as if you just connected the dot.

“So, you work here?” Joel faced you and asked.

“Uhm..No, I was just helping my friend today. One of the workers didn’t come so I came to help.”

“How nice of you. Don’t think there’s someone who's still kind enough in this ruined world.”

“I guess there is still hope.”

Joel scoffed.

“So, if you’re not a bartender then..”

“Guess. What kind of job do you think I’m doing?” You tried to flirt with Joel.

“Uhmm.. nurse?” Joel shrugged.

“Hmm..nope.” You shook your head.

“Teacher? I don’t know but I think you will make a great teacher like teaching kids. You look really patient.” Joel answered with a doubting tone.

“No way? Really? You’re right though. I teach kids in this town. I’ve been teaching for a few years now.” You chuckled.

“What do you teach? Fractions?” Joel tried to joke. (TLOU ep 1 reference 😂)

“Yes, yes. It’s one of them.” You threw your head back and laughed.

Joel shook his head and smiled. He looked like he was proud of getting the right answer.

“How about you?” You asked him back.

“Me?” He pointed at himself on the chest.

“You do patrols?” You nodded and drank your beer.

“I..uh.. arrived here not long ago. Still figurin’ things out and helpin’ doin’ patrols at the moment.”

“You must be a tough guy.” You gave him a light fist on his upper arm and you could feel how strong his biceps were.

He flinched at the touch as he was getting butterflies from your slight touch. He didn’t know he would ever feel that feeling that he hadn’t had for years.

“Oh shit.” You sighed as you saw Josh, the man who was obsessed with you coming towards you.

“You know you shouldn’t say that word when you’re teachin’ right?” Joel teased you not knowing about the situation.

“Hey, baby. Why are you drinking without me?” Josh put his arms around you as he sat next to you.

“I don’t have a reason to drink with you, Josh.” You rolled your eyes as you shoved his hand away.

“Cranky. Are you at that time of the month?” He mocked you.

Josh had asked you out before but you didn’t like him. You knew he only wanted to get inside your pants. Just like the other guys. But he was obsessed with you. You rejected his proposal to be his girlfriend but he kept coming after you.

Joel watched you as you clenched your fist gripping your jeans. He knew you were not comfortable with Josh’s appearance so instead of leaving, he stayed beside you.

“So who is this old man? I haven’t seen you.” Josh looked at Joel.

“He’s my friend.” You answered him coldly.

“I’m Joel.” Joel introduced himself without extending his hand to shake hands with Josh.

“Well, Joel. I need time alone to be with (y/n). Can you leave?” Josh moved his hands back and forth as he was trying to tell Joel to go away.

You were scared. You didn’t want to be alone with Josh. Not after that time, when he slapped you after saying no to be his girlfriend. Your hands were shaking and Joel noticed.

“We were about to leave actually. I promised (y/n) somethin’.” Joel lied to help you get out of this situation.

You looked at Joel and let out a sigh as you felt safe that Joel would protect you. Joel stood up and held your wrist to get you out of the bar.

“She’s staying.” Josh grabbed your other wrist.

You gasped and your eyes were teary.

“You really don’t want to mess with me, kid.” Joel growled.

You could see his death stare at Josh. Josh got scared as Joel was bigger than him. Even though he looked intimidating, you weren’t scared of him. Instead, you felt safe and comfortable. As you and Joel walked a few steps far enough from the bar, Joel stopped.

“You’re shakin’. Are you alright?” His voice was soft. It sounded very different from when he was talking to Josh.

“I-I-Uhm-I’m fine. Thank you.” You couldn’t breathe properly because you were too scared.

Josh’s appearance made all your bad memories came to your head again.

“Hey. You’re safe now.” Joel rubbed your back up and down to make you feel calm.

“Where do you live? Let me walk you home.”

“Uh-It’s- 15 minute walk from here.” You guided Joel to your house.

“So is this Josh guy your ex-boyfriend or somethin’?” Joel asked.

“Ugh. No. He asked me out but I said no. And then he slapped me. Many times. I got bruises from it.”

“Jesus. I’m sorry that happened to you.” Joel closed his eyes as he was shocked to hear that happened to you. He wondered how someone could hurt a kind and nice person like you.

As you arrived at your front porch, you faced Joel.

“Thank you for helping me out today, Joel.”

“No problem. Just find me whenever you need help.” He shoved his hands in his pocket.

The night ended. You were glad you finally talked to Joel today. And your head couldn’t stop rewinding that scene when he saved you from Josh. You giggled and kicked your blanket thinking about him. You just talked to him once but your feelings towards Joel had already grown deeper.

To be continued..

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

#joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller one shot #joel miller x reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller x you #the last of us imagine #the last of us x reader #the last of us x you #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction

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quickiesgirl · 8 months

Text

In the Kitchen - Wanda Maximoff

Paring: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Warning: 18+, Smut, Dom/Sub, Semi-Public Sex, Kitchen Sex, Cunnilingus, 50s Theme, Alternative Universe, My Shitty Writing.

Kinktober 1 - Kitchen Sex

You weren’t entirely thrilled receiving an invitation to the summer block party, thrown by your neighbor, Agnes. As fun as it may seem to fellow Westview residents, you rarely cared for the large, interactive crowds.

Instead, you enjoyed being in the presence of your family, whereas your wonderful wife, Wanda, was a social butterfly. Yet, even with these different traits, you still found some interesting ways to work around them.

Wanda glanced over her shoulder watching you walk through the kitchen door, well-dressed, and fresh out of the shower.

“Almost ready, my love?” She asked with the sweetest, most loving tone, untying the white, laced apron around her waist to lay it on top of the countertop, watching as you walked through the kitchen door, well-dressed, and fresh out of a shower.

“Almost,” You repeated, leaning into the side of the counter, feeding the thin, leather belt through your trousers, noticing the silence that filled the active household, “Did the boys already head outside?”

“Yeah, they’re out on the lawn playing with Señor Scratchy.”

You took a moment to admire the missis. She looked absolutely stunning, standing there, dressed in her new blouse, bought specially for this occasion, and a bright, flowy pencil skirt that stopped mid-knee, hugging her hips in just the right places.

You came up from behind and wrapped your arms around her waist, chest pressing into her back while your chin lowered upon her shoulder with pursed, pouty lips, “Sure we can’t stay home today?”

“Honey, we have to show up to the block party, Agnes is counting on us to bring the pies. I just hope I followed her grandmother's recipe correctly..." She said, glancing down at the recipe card, squinting her eyes, and knitting her brows together at the barely eligible writing scribbled across it.

Wanda quickly caught her bottom lip between her teeth, her attention was now set on the warmth spreading through her entire body as your lips began to lay kisses along the back of her neck, her floral-scented perfume filling your nose as you hummed softly and allowed your hands to caress her round, curved hips.

Wanda sighed softly, cheeks growing a shade of scarlet as she tilted her neck to the side, allowing you more space to do as you please.

Intoxicated by your touch and attention.

You move up slowly, soft lips brushing against the ridge of her ear, sending a shiver down her spine, whispering in that dominant tone, “mhm, least I’ll have my gorgeous wife by my side,”

She spun around in your embrace, laying her hands upon your clothed frame and sliding from your waist up to your breasts to adjust the collar of your long-sleeved button-up.

“You know, no one would mind us being a few minutes late,” You suggested knowingly, inching your face closer to hers, “Just a little taste, baby?”

Wanda immediately looked around seeing the many open windows surrounding the two of you, along with the frequently used door leading into the kitchen, “In here? W-what if someone sees us, or the kids walk in on us?”

“No one will catch us, darling. I’ll be listening for the door the entire time.”

That look on your face tells everything she needs to know, all your wants and desires, without even having to read your mind. It made her ache for your touch. “Promise?”

“I promise.” You smirked, watching her slowly move in, lacing her arms around your neck and connecting her lips to yours for a deep, intimate kiss.

Before she could think, you pinned her to the kitchen counter and grabbed ahold of her upper thighs to swiftly place her on top, causing a soft gasp to escape her lips. Your action sends a wave of heat between her thighs. She loved it when you’re forceful.

Wanda slowly kicked off her pearl-colored kitten heels, dropping them to the floor as she draped her arms over your shoulders, feeling your hands massage the underside of her smooth legs, the metal of your wedding ring cold and prominent against her skin, reminding her of the undying love you share for each other.

With a twist of her wrist, her fingers blazed with red translucent energy, using her powers to suddenly close the kitchen shutters that looked in on the dining room table and living room, giving the two of you some much-needed privacy.

Wasting no time, you pushed her skirt up and discarded her white panties to the floor, kneeling down, face inches away from her pretty, hairless pussy, already glistening with arousal.

Eyes fluttering shut, taking in her sweet aroma with each breath before pressing your warm, wet tongue just above her entrance, licking a long, teasingly slow strip between her folds till you reach her sensitive bud, feeling her pulsate beneath your touch.

Wanda sucked in a sharp breath, instantly dropping her hands up to grab ahold of your hair and push you deeper, showing you exactly where she needed you the most, causing you to devilishly smirk at your beautiful wife before pulling her hood back ever so slightly to reveal her swollen, sensitive clitoris, finally giving her some well-deserved attention.

The second the tip of your tongue swirled around, a pretty moan escaped her lips. Her head arching back as she squeezes your hair between her fingers, feeling the heat already pooling in her stomach. The weight of her gorgeous thighs now strung over your steady shoulders.

“Best keep those eyes on me, sweetheart…” You said in less of a suggestion and more of an order, “I wouldn't want you to miss the show.”

Wanda’s heavy gaze lowered, lashes batting as she watched your tongue work and maneuver her sweet spots between those pink, puffy lips, licking and teasing till her legs were trembling around your head.

Your mind was set on one thing, getting a taste of that sweet cum gushing across your lips.

Her little pornographic sounds began to build, more and more, until they were spilling out of the kitchen. She was struggling to remain quiet.

Wanda bunched the beautifully old-fashioned material of her dress in the palm of her hand, digging her long, painted nails into the fabric as her other hand reached down to grip the edge of the wooden counter, searching for any form of support so she could roll her hips on your tongue.

A coil lay in her stomach, tensing and tightening, pulling her closer to release.

“Mhm, that’s it, pretty baby,” You growl, grabbing hold of her hips over the soft material of her skirt to arch her pelvis forward and hold her still while you sink into her wet, tight hole, allowing your tongue to side in and out relentlessly, stroking her velvety walls while you fucked her forcefully.

“Please, I'm gonna come! Y-you're gonna- make me cu-mmuhh~” She reached her tipping point, eyes rolling to the back of her head and her body tensing under your touch, unable to hold back any longer.

Her cunt contracted, releasing her sweet juices along your tastebuds, painting your tongue like so many times before, yet every time, it was just as sweet as the last.

You happily cleaned her up, and slowly dragged your hands down, planting gentle kisses along her plush inner thigh while you ogled your wife, who was beautiful as ever with that dazed, euphoric look across her face.

The sound of the front door slamming shut instantly caught your attention. Your eyes broaden, listening to Billy shout from the living room, “Mom? Mom? Hey, where is everyone?”

Wanda gasped, hurriedly standing to her feet, hands flattening down her skirt, and slipping back into her heels as you swiped her panties from the floor and tucked them into your back pocket.

“We’re in the kitchen.” You spoke up, dragging your thumb over your bottom lip, collecting the rest of her juices to lick away before gazing in her direction, “We’ll be finishing this later.”

She blushingly smiled, trying to hide it as soon as Billy and Tommy rushed through the swinging door with pure excitement on their faces.

You made her needy, sick thoughts begin to wander, anticipating sundown when the kids are tucked away in bed, peacefully asleep while their moms finally have some alone time.

Wanda Maximoff Smut Taglist: @sunflowerharrington @wandsmxmff @cantthinkofauserlololol @pikachupepito2 @Natashamacimoff69 @likefirenrain @olsensnpm @cristin-rjd @demxnicprxncess @acimadetudorubron

Taglist Form | Message if you want to be removed <3

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #scarlet witch #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch x you #scarlet witch x y/n #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda mcu #wandavision #quickiesgirl writing

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alwaysf0rev3r · 2 years

Note

Okay what about a Bucky x reader where buckys had a long day and the reader can tell so she dresses up like a 40’s pinup girl for him?

pairings: bucky barnes x reader

warnings: m in f penetration, handjob, fingering, creampie, eating cum, unprotected sex, slight degredation, praise

a/n: GIRL WHEN I SAW THIS IN MY ASKSSSS YOU KNOW I HAD TO DO IT!! this idea is so hot god i love it!! thank u so much for requesting

Bad day at work. I’m gonna be home late. I need a drink. A lot of them. Go to sleep without me, I’ll be home later, I just need to be alone. I love you.

You looked at the text on your phone then up to yourself over and over again in nervousness. You wanted to leave him alone, it was what you always did on his bad days when he came home upset. But giving him space never did anything, it only enabled him being upset for days on end, and it was hard for you to watch him struggle.

Today you tried something different. You wanted to make it about him. Everything was about you, what he cooked, what he did, even the bedroom, but not tonight.

You couldn’t help but remember him mentioning what magazines and girls the soldiers looked at back in the war, he even showed you an old magazine Steve had found. He was joking, only trying to show you memories, but the image was burnt in your mind. Solider Buck, hand in pants, starting at the girls he didn’t know in magazines.

Which is why you had on a semi long red dress with white polka dots. It was skin tight on your upper half, accentuating the size of your waist, and and it flowed waist down. It matched well with your red lipstick and soft makeup, along with your lightly curled hair.

You look like a girl in an old magazine.

When the door opened, you knew that was it, there was no turning back. You stayed still, trying not to let your overthinking get the best of you. You stayed seated on the counter, eating chocolate you had from a week back that Bucky brought for you.

His eyes were on the floor, but he tilted his head up at the realization of your presence, his eyes widening. He wanted to feel confused, but he was too amazed to feel it. You looked perfect, sprawled out on the kitchen island in a little 50s dress for him, “What are you wearing?”

“I found this in my closet,” you lied, knowing damn well you bought it days prior to surprise him. You dangled your legs over the edge of the counter, watching Bucky get closer, “Do you like it?”

“Yes,” he answered embarrassingly quickly, “You look beautiful.”

“I wanted to look pretty for you,” you smiled, grabbing chocolate from the tray and grabbing his arm to pull him closer. You grabbed his face with one hand and used your other to gently put the chocolate to his mouth. He opened his mouth slightly and grabbed the chocolate from your hand, watching you suck the residue off your fingers, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” he smiled, not sure how to react. He was so used to silence and solitude when he had a hard day at work or on a mission, but this was a different feeling for him.

“How was work?”

“Bad,” he scoffed, brushing the hair from your face, “No body got hurt or anything, it was just a mistake I made. I kept insisting on something and it turned out I was wrong and we all just argued. It was annoying.”

“I��m sorry, Buck,” you frowned, leaning in to press a kiss to his frowned lips, “Maybe I could make you feel better.”

His eyebrows furrowed but quickly raised in realization when you grabbed the belt loops on his pants to tug him closer, “I just want to take care of my favorite soldier.”

He looked speechless, mouth slightly agape in hesitance. He wanted to, God, in your outfit he wanted nothing more than that, but he was so used to the bedroom always being about you. He loved it that way, he loved making every move about making you shake beneath him, it was all he wanted to know. But your offer was tempting, “Let me take care of you.”

He nodded softly, his eyes glistening as you went in to press a kiss to the end of his jaw, then prickle more to his neck. You sucked on his neck softly as you gripped the bottom of his shirt, which he was quick to remove. He grabbed your waist and kept you planted on the counter as he closed his eyes, enjoying your assault on his neck.

You jumped off the counter, standing in front of him and having him slightly press you into the counter. You kissed lower onto his chest, then took it upon yourself to kiss all the way down to his happy trail. When you reached it, you pressed your tongue flat against his abs and licked up, all the way to his neck and kissing his lips. He was quick to stick his tongue in your throat, which you accepted for only a moment before getting onto your knees.

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” Bucky mumbled, hoping you’d continue. He took your light scoff and continuations as a yes.

You unbuttoned his pants and grabbed them, pulling them slowly down his legs. You were quicker to grab his boxers and pull them down, revealing what you wanted. All ten inches of him stood straight up, tapping his stomach as your gingers grazed the base.

He grabbed the counters as you began stroking him underneath the table and gave him soft kisses, “What’s got you so hard, Buck?”

“You,” he responded fast, his breath uneven, “Your dress, fuck— You look so beautiful. If I saw you back in the 50s, I would’ve thought you were the most perfect girl I’d ever seen, just like now.”

You stood up and continued jerking him off, turning so you were in front of him. You wanted to see his face. You kissed his neck as you jerked faster, “Where would you have taken me on a date back then?”

“The movies, for sure,” he threw his head back as you collected spit on your palm and jerked him off stronger than before, “We would have kissed in the back— Fuck, that feels good— Taken you to get food after.”

“What would happen after the date?”

He realized what you were getting at as he closed his eyes, just imagining it, “Usually I’d wait to go back to my house, but I wouldn’t be able to wait with you— Oh, god, oh, jesus— I-I’d put you in the back of my car and shove my face in you, ruin you until you could never fuck another man again.”

He took a deep breath and let out a drawn out moan, his eyebrows furrowing in pleasure as you sped up, “I’d put you on top of me, let you ride me until you got what you wanted out of it. I’d fuck you so good.”

You felt yourself getting wetter at his words, and it was driving Bucky’s super senses insane, “I can smell you, fuck.”

He grabbed your waist and seperated you from him. He wanted to be delicate, but how could he when you looked so perfect? He found the buttons and accidentally broke a few, but undid them as fast as he could. He took no time to take the dress off of you, his breath stopping at the black lacy bra that had underwear to match. He put his hand out to trace the lace along the underwear, his hand stopping at your crotch. He cupped it slightly before you backed away, “This is about you, stop.”

“Don’t starve a man,” he whined, his eyes furrowing in desperation. He picked you up and sat you on the counter, spreading your legs as he watched you shake your head at his request, “Baby, do you want me to go crazy? I can’t cum until I eat you, be nice. I just want a little, just for a minute, okay? Then you can do whatever you want to me.”

“You’re like a starved dog, jesus,” you mocked, scoffing at him and letting him spread your legs. He always got what he wanted, and as good as it felt, you wanted to focus on him.

“You asked what I would have done to you in the forties?” He asked, sticking his hand into your underwear and rubbing you slowly, moving your wetness around to lube everything up, “I would have left that little dress on, and made you sit on my face. I’d want your smell on me for days so anytime I did anything, I’d think about what it felt like for you to hump my face.”

You breathed slowly at his confession, grinding onto his hand. He inserted two fingers, watching your mouth open as he did so. He stopped his fingers to let you adjust before moving them again, “You can’t even take my fingers— How am I gonna fit?”

His mocking tone was sending you over the edge, making your eyes close as he fingered you more rapidly, “What? Does that get you off? Me having to stuff you so full cause I barely fit?”

You moaned at his words, nodding rapidly as he fingered you at a quicker pace, “Look at you— Spread out for me with your slutty lace underwear— You look so fucking hot.”

He always made things about you when you did things, but he knew tonight you wanted him to get pleasure out of it all. He did something he was hesitant to do, but God did it feel good.

He rubbed himself slowly against your thigh as he fingered you, grinding on you like a dog in heat. You looked down, letting out the most unbelievable moan at the sight, making his eyes widen, “When you moan like that, I swear I could cum just humping you like a teenager.”

You arched your back and grabbed his arm, shaking your head, “Bucky, just fuck me, please.”

He removed his hand from your underwear and stuck his fingers in his mouth, moaning around them as he closed his eyes, licking up every drop he could, “You taste so good, look.”

He brought his fingers to your mouth and watched you take them in, tasting yourself. You hallowed your cheeks around him as he spoke, “You look like such a whore like this— Tasting yourself on my fingers. You’re meant to be fucked when you taste that good.”

He grabbed your underwear and turned it to the side, keeping on the sexy lace as he ran his dick over your wetness, making your body shiver. He stuck his head inside of you, then was slow to stick the rest of him in as well. When he was fully buried, he waited til you looked adjust to flip the both of you over, so you straddled his waist, “Ride me.”

You lifted yourself up before planting yourself back down, “Bucky— You’re so deep, fuck.”

You kept bouncing up and down, the sight of your tits jumping with you sending Bucky into overdrive, “I want you to cum inside me, Bucky, please.”

His eyes clenched shut at your words as he nodded, nearly busting at the words you just said, “I’ll fuck all my cum into you, baby, I promise.”

“Take what you want, milk me, God,” he moaned as you grinded on him, spelling your name with your hips. You grabbed your own chest, grabbing your nipples through your bra, “You’re so worked up, look at you— Greedy and fucked out— I could just fuck you whenever I wanted cause you’re always so wet for me.”

You nodded, bouncing faster and leaning down a bit to look at him, “You should— Fuck me whenever you want. When I’m cooking, showering, reading, just come and fuck me. I’ll take whatever you give me.”

“You sound like such a slut when you say that,” his eyebrows knit together, his hand coming to yo ur face. You grabbed his thumb and stuck it in your mouth, “You’re so unreal.”

Your body winced as you continued riding him, “I’m cumming, oh god, oh my fucking god—“

“Cum for me,” he mumbled, knowing he was on edge too. You moaned before you collapsed on him, but right when you did, you felt something in you happen.

He let go and you felt ropes of cum endlessly paint your insides. It was never ending, the serum had made him cum for minutes on end. You were getting so full of cum, “Bucky, you’re filling me up so much, it’s leaking.”

“Take it,” he moaned, feeling the last few drops leak out of you as he pulled out.

He flipped you on your back, his eyes now on your lower half. He nearly came again at the sight of your wet pussy leaking his cum, it was dripping out so much.

He put his finger inside of you, shoving all the cum left into you harder. You shivered at the sudden overstimulation he was causing since you just came, “What are you doing?”

“Making sure you don’t waste any,” he smirked, taking his finger out and grabbing all the cum that had dripped out and bringing it to your mouth. You took it all, drinking his cum off his fingers as you grabbed his hand, looking at him.

“I want you to cum again— But in my mouth this time.”

#bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x reader #avengers #smut #marvel #bucky barnes smut #bucky smut #bucky barnes #bucky x reader

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vanwritesfan-fiction · 10 months

Text

Training Day

Pairings: Husband!Dad!Travis Kelce x Wife!Mom!Reader

Words: 1,842

Warnings: Fluff, the reader falls ill

“Ugh!” you exclaimed, looking at Travis in the driver’s seat of your family SVU. “Ok, baby, enough. It’s just a mustache. It will be gone by the regular season.” You reached out to touch the hairs on his upper lip, pulling the skin. “Ow! Stop!” Travis swatted your hand away. You held your hands up in surrender. “Sorry, I was trying to rip it off. Wasn’t sure if it was one of those terrible fake mustaches you get at a costume store.” Travis ran his fingers across his mustache admiring that he was able to grow it in time for training camp. “This is the same mustache that was making you giggle like a schoolgirl last night when it was tickling your pus-“ “Travis, shut up!” You turned to look at Bubba and Savannah, who were both sound asleep in their car seats.

The Kansas City Chiefs Training camp was starting today, and you were tagging along with Travis so the kids could see their dad in action. The Chiefs made a huge event of the first day of training camp, inviting family and the public to see the team practice drills and scrimmage. Bubba was especially excited because he had turned four this year and was finally old enough to participate in the Gatorade Junior Training Camp. He spent all last night keeping you and Travis up talking football strategy and he wore his practice uniform to bed. Travis was beaming watching Bubba pretend to be a quarterback, dodging his opponents.

When you arrived at the practice facility, Bubba had woken up, his eyes big as he watched the crowds of people. “Mama?” he called out to you. “Yes, baby?” “Are tese people here to watch me play fooball?” You and Travis laughed at Bubba’s question. “Everyone is here to see Daddy play football, Bubs.” “Good, I would be too ‘cared.”

“You have nothing to be scared of, you’re going to have so much fun, and I’ll be with you the whole time.” Travis pulled up to the back of the stadium where the players would park, coming around to help you out of the car. You were only about six months pregnant, but your belly was already bigger than during your two previous pregnancies, and every day was a struggle because you were so uncomfortable. “Thank you”, you hobbled to the trunk; Travis was already getting out the stroller, unpacking it. You helped Bubba get out of his booster seat. “Mama, can we go play now?” “Just a second, we need to get everything out of the car. Hold onto the stroller please, I need to see you.” Bubba eagerly shook his head, conforming he understood.

Travis pulled Savannah out of her car seat, trying his best to not wake her up but was unsuccessful. She immediately started crying, her high-pitched shriek drawing attention. “Alright Sav, it’s okay.” Travis bounced her in his arms until she calmed down, resting her head on his shoulder. When he walked around to you and Bubba, you reached out to put her in the stroller. “I’ll just carry her in, I don’t want her anymore upset than she is.” Travis slung his duffle bag on his empty shoulder, balancing Savannah.

You and your family walked into the indoor practice facility where Travis would go to get dressed and have his team meeting. You took in the sight of at least 50 kids playing around on the field. You rubbed your belly, grimacing at the tightness of your back. “You alright?” Travis placed his empty hand on your belly, rubbing in circles. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just thought there would be more kids Bubba’s age for him to play with.” “He’s gonna kill it. He’ll be the best four-year-old out there.” “He might be the only four-year-old out there.”

You grabbed onto Travis’ arm, squeezing as you tried to stretch out your back. The strain was making it difficult to stand up. “Hey, hey, everything alright?”, Travis was concerned that the day was going to be too much for you. “If you need to go home, I can drive you back.” You swiped at his concern, thinking he was overreacting. “Hey Chase”, Travis got the attention of one of the team assistants that was walking by. “Can you make sure she gets a chair and something to drink? I also need someone to check in on her regularly when I can’t get to her while I’m on the field.” Chase nodded his head and jogged off to find a chair. “Travis, I’m fine, stop making a fuss over me. I’m gonna be known as the high maintenance wife.” Travis gave you a kiss on the forehead, rubbing your belly one more time before handing Sav to you. “You are high maintenance, baby. I’ve gotta go, the team is getting ready.” “Bye, love you.”

You balanced Sav on your belly as Chase came back with a foldout chair. “Sorry, this is all we had.” “This is perfect Chase, thank you. Can you walk Alex over to the line for the youth training camp?” Chase grabbed Alex’s hand and gently walked him over to the other side of the field, Alex looking back at you the entire time, tears starting to form in his eyes. You waved at him, keeping a big smile on your face so he knew he was okay.

About five minutes passed before he was full on crying, tears running down his face. You thought about running over there to rescue him, but both you and Travis agreed it was better to let him cry it out when you knew he wasn’t hurt or in trouble. One of the volunteers bent down to console Alex, and she was able to get him to stop crying. Travis walked out of the changing rooms in his practice uniform, stopping to see Bubba and wish him good luck for the day. When he saw Alex was crying, wiping his tears with no luck, Travis picked him up, pointing over to you sitting across the field. You couldn’t make out what he was saying, but you blew them a kiss when you saw them waiving over at you. Bubba took a few deep breaths before Travis put him down and walked off to join his team on the practice field outside.

Bubba thrived with the other kids, keeping up with kids twice his size on practice drills and throws. You looked over at Sav to see her sleeping in the stroller, her belly full of lunch. After about an hour, Chase ran Alex back over to where you were sitting, smiling big. “How did it go baby?” You raked his hair out his face, Bubba panting from exhaustion. “I caught the ball, Mama!” “I saw! You looked so good out there.” “Thank you. I’m sleepy now, can we go home?” You pulled Bubba into your lap, him resting his body against your chest, his hand rubbing your belly subconsciously. “Not yet baby, we have to watch daddy play for a little bit, and then we can go home.”

Once Bubba had a snack, you led both kids out to the scrimmage field. The team was in the middle of their last scrimmage, the atmosphere getting a little hostile with the opposing team. The referee was blowing the whistle constantly at little infractions, and Travis was pushed by a player on the other team, Travis retaliating by shoving the player to the ground. Other players got involved on both sides, helmets coming off. The scrap was broken up by the referees and Travis was forced to the sidelines. You rolled your eyes; Travis was usually a calm guy, but he was always going to hit back if he got hit first.

The temperature climbed as the day went on, the sun beating down on you as you sat on the bleachers watching the game. You began to feel lightheaded, grabbing some of Bubba’s snack because your blood sugar was low. You looked around hoping that Chase was around to get you some water, but your vision was starting to blur so you couldn’t see through the crowd of people. You grabbed at the person sitting next to you before you started to sway. As your hearing started muffle and your vision began to tunnel, you could barely hear Travis yelling from across the field for someone to get you help as he ran over to you. He had seen you start falling over while he was on the bench. Sav crying was the last thing you heard before you fully passed out.

You woke up disoriented, Travis standing over you, stroking your hair. He helped you sit up carefully, and you realized you were in the medical tent. “Where are the kids?” was the first thing that crossed your mind. “They’re fine baby, they are with Chase.” Travis tried to give you a bottle of water, but you declined. “The baby…” your hand found your belly, momentarily thinking that you weren’t pregnant, but baby boy was still there. “Baby’s good too. Doctor checked over everything, heartbeat was good, but they still want us to go to the hospital to get everything checked out for sure.” Travis reassured you, holding your hand. Once everything hit you, you couldn’t help but become overwhelmed, tears welling in your eyes, a sob leaving your mouth. “Hey, baby, hey, you’re okay.” Travis enveloped you in a hug, cradling your head as you continued to cry. “Can we please go home?” you asked in between sniffles. “Yes, baby, let’s go home.”

You finally got home, Travis grabbing Bubba and Sav out of the car, both knocked out from exhaustion. You followed behind them, your body sore from the events of the day. Travis took both of the kids to their rooms, placing them down for the night. You met him in the hallway as he was closing Sav’s door. “I’m worried about you, are you sure you don’t want to go to the hospital?” You padded to the bedroom, plopping down on the bed. “Yes, I’m sure. I just want to go to sleep.” Travis sat on your side of the bed next to you, slipping your shoes off. He took off his shirt as he went to take a shower, but you stopped him. “Hey, don’t think just because I stole the show today, I didn’t see that little scrap on the field. Are you okay?” Travis turned to you as he continued to undress. “That guy was being an ass, he needed to be put in his place.” “You sure it’s not something more?” Travis was known to hide things from you, especially if he thought it would stress you out while pregnant. He had gone a whole six months with a broken elbow without telling you when you were pregnant with Sav. “Yeah, everything’s good.” Travis took a shower, washing off the dirt from the day, before joining you in bed, the two of you sleeping until late in the morning.

#travis kelce fic #travis kelce fluff #travis kelce imagine #travis kelce x reader #travis kelce

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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 28 days

Text

Cancelled

Jake Lockley x GN!Reader • Rating: T •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | requestinfo• MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist• ko-fi •

Summary: Your plans change.

🌛For @moonknight-events MK Bingo Spring 2024 Event🌜

A/N: Sat on a few of these fics for ages because I'm overthinking them, but thought 'ahhh, I need to post them now in time for the event!' Having a deadline is very helpful.

Warnings: Reader experiencing some sensory issues, Jake reading smutty books, overuse of italics, typos, not beta read, rail-road sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 801

Your phone buzzes on the bed. The drone is muffled slightly by the pillow it’s under. You finish fixing your outfit in the mirror and sigh.

The material was ever so slightly wrong today. Normally it was fine, but now the feel of it just irritated you. But this was the seventh outfit you’d tried on and honestly if you were going to make it to the restaurant by 8pm, even with Jake’s ingenious driving, you had to leave now.

You pick up your phone, glancing at the screen as you unlock it.

One message.

From one of your friends you were meeting up with. Probably something along the lines of ‘see everyone soon’. Usually you were excited to see them. They were some of your oldest and dearest friends, and you loved their company. But today it just felt off. Getting dressed up and going out. Eating at a semi expensive (for your budget anyway) restaurant that you didn’t even like that much. Putting on your ‘social interaction face’. It all just seems far too exhausting.

Your eyes widened as you read the messages on the group chat.

‘Can’t make it, stupid traffic at the tunnel! Been stuck for 50 mins and haven’t moved!’

‘I can’t either, babysitter fell through!’

‘So sorry everyone, maybe it’s for the best, I’ve got a horrible headache and was gonna power through, but maybe it’s best if we reschedule?’

The last message had you at-ted.

‘It’s that okay with you? Sorry you let you down! <3’

Relief floods your veins and you hastily type a, ‘no worries, let’s reschedule’, adding several happy face emojis out of paranoia that your message could be misread, before you wish everyone well and to have a good evening.

Jake hears you throw your bedroom door open, but doesn’t glance up from where he’s slouched over your armchair reading. It’s one of those bodice-ripping paperbacks from the 80s with the fabulously illustrated covers. Jake’s guilty pleasure. While he knows that Marc and Steven wouldn’t care, and most likely wouldn’t be bothered at all by his reading choices, he also very much does not want them to know. A feeling he’s sure he should try to unpack at some point.

But that was a future Jake task.

Which is why he’d taken to either hiding them behind the cistern in Steven’s flat or keeping them at yours, tucked neatly on your bookshelf (with your permission) behind a row of your books.

“You ready to go amor?” He asked as he turned the page.

You bounded over to him, ripping your stupid, itchy top off in the process. “Excellent news!” You stopped in front of him, smacking your hands onto the armchair for emphasis.

Jake didn’t even flinch, half absorbed in his book and half used to your dramatic flare.

“Oh?” He glanced up at you and paused, a small frown of interest crossing his face. “You don’t have a top on.”

“Exceptional observation skills Lockey.”

He smirks.

“Guess what?”

“You’re embracing a new life as a nudist?”

“The meal’s cancelled.”

“What?”

“The meal’s cancelled. You know cancelled, as in not happening.” You grin.

He gives you a playful look and swats your upper arm softly with his book. (His middle finger pressed inside to keep his page.) “I know what cancelled means, why?”

“Traffic, no babysitter, and headache.” You list the reasons as you count them on your hand excitedly.

He smiles. “Really weren’t feeling it today were you?”

“How could you tell?” You say playfully.

“Well, you kicking the door open to tell me was a good give away.”

You laugh.

“Plus, you really were leaving it pretty fine to get there on time.” He slips his bookmark between the pages and puts the book down on the floor before inching forward, he wraps his arms around your waist and gently pulls you into his lap, giving you plenty of time to step back if you wanted to. “I know how much being late makes you anxious.”

You snuggle up to him, wrapping your own arms around his shoulders and kissing his cheek. His day old stubble rubs against your skin. But this sensation is comforting. Like home.

“So you letting it get to this time without us going, or without you telling me off for reading instead of putting my shoes on.”

“I don’t tell you off.” You grumble, your words muffled by how your mouth is pressed against his neck.

Jake laughs. “Playfully.”

You tut affectionately. “Alright, playfully.” You adjust your position on his lap, getting comfortable.

“So, what do you want to do tonight?” He presses a light kiss to your temple.

“Hmm, how about… pizza and you can read some of your smutty book to me?”

He laughs again and kisses your lips. “Sounds good.”

____________________________________________

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @whatthefishh @romanarose @strangerhands @saturn-rings-writes @lonelyisamyw-0love @queerponcho @steven-grants-world @eyelessfaces @angel-of-the-moons @minigirl87 @lunar-ghoulie @silvernight-m @autismsupermusicalassassin @apesarecuul @reallyrallyauthor @basicalyrandom @alwaysmicado @mangoslushcrush @marc-spectorr @soft-girl-musings @spxctorsslxt @novarosewood

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#jake lockley #moon knight #moon knight mcu #jake lockley x reader #x reader #jake lockley x you #x you #jake lockley x gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader #jake lockley x gn!reader #x gn!reader #my writing #fanfic #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters

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plaguespoken · 4 months

Text

my fucking lord.

i cannot find a job and every interview is fucked for me. i tried donating plasma today and got a 24 hour deferral because of my hematocrit. i have no one to take me until late tomorrow (if at all) but i desperately need to go tomorrow.

i need $50 minimum for ubers there and home tomorrow. i have no upper goal because this is once again becoming an Issue for me. i'm sorry i have to keep asking

ppal

#txt #my life has been nothing but a mess since last may #i cant even get to job interviews that arent right by me anymore

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cherubispunk · 7 months

Text

CHERUB (PART II) - Dealer!Joel Miller x AFAB!Reader

summary: you will forever be his fallen angel. his cherub.

a note from Lucy: IT IS TIME! Now, I KNOWWWW i said that there woud be dp with tommy in part two...but that can wait until part three because this is just as disgusting as the last one hehehehe! Enjoy sinners, i'm off to bed. This is also unedited to just ignore any typos. I promise I’ll get round to reading it through later today. X

playlist | alternate banner by THE cherub @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

wc: 4088 Warnings: 18+ MDNI! DARK CONTENT! Unedited for now, no outbreak, no use of y/n but joel calls the reader ‘Cherub’, porn with little plot, bombastic age gap (reader is in her early 20's and Joel is in his late 50s), Smut, car sex, very dubcon in theory but both parties want it, smut, P in V sex (unprotected — pleaseee don’t do tis irl), oral - m reeiving, handjobs, Creampie, choking, orgasm denial, slapping, dom!Joel:/sub!reader dynamic, gagging , mentions of gagging with panties, panty sniffing, nipple play, biting, Smoking, use of pet names (baby, cherub, angel, good girl...etc), Joel being foul mouthed, cursing, dirty talk. Again, some of the most animalistic, disgustingly wretched and vile porn I have written thus far...with so little plot that this earned me my place in hell, a circle lower than the last. Big Dick Joel Miller comes as his own warning.

series m.list | m.list

Lace. Pretty. Delicate and intricate.

Torn and tossed to grimy carpet. His trailer, his bed. Laying in his large warm arms for no more than a brief moment of afterglow. Then observed by his hawk eye while you were strewn naked about his sheets in a divine headrush of oxytocin, endorphins. And numb to all but the ghostly ache of pleasure within your belly.

Truth can be ugly. It can beat and maim even the strongest of heart and half of soul. It can dampen spirits, bash, batter and bruise a hope so bright to such a degree it is nothing but a mere flickering flame, awaiting its snuffing out from a final exhale of a familiar broken heart. It can go pummeling, plundering and pillaging a love you held so tightly to your chest, that once was so dear to one’s self, the mere idea of letting it slip through your fingers would bring on an agonising loneliness even death's pain could not compete or match with.

One night later was your time to face truth, the world fell dark again. The rain had subsided back to choking heat, summer’s final scorch before biting winter rolled in, icy and frostbitten on its heels. You were catatonic in bed from that day forward. Contemplated the end of it all. Then got up for work again when the sun peeked over aluminium trailer rooftops. All of this…just come back to your own bed again.

You belong to the ground now. Your purple knees might as well be caked in dirt. Each of your hairs stood on end in protest to your shivers, vexatious and unforgiving. And choked sobs suffocated you, face red, raw, puffy and salty. Everything seemed to hurt. The sound of humanity seemed so far away from you now. Even the crackling of TV static in the next room over. Nothing felt quite real. It was just…dull. Exhaustion ached in your bones, sinking in deeper - bone marrow level deeper - after twenty-four hours of little to no rest. You bit down on your bottom lip and scrunched your eyes closed as your fingers and toes curled in and you writhed in emotional pain inside yourself. Physically you were still. A weight had pressed itself into your chest, digging at you and carving a hole through your sternum. Your teeth were now gritted as you let out strained whimpers muffled by the pillow. Desperate for some form of relief, you were clasping at your upper arms, clawing your flesh until red lines rose

No one knew. No one could know. they did not have to carry the idea that someone, who roamed the halls of your mind peacefully, passively, vacantly, now rampaged through those same corridors with an iron fist and a burning torch, setting you alight, leaving breadcrumb trails for ravens to pick at and fragments such as that of sharp, cutting mirror glass for you to piece together with no map or original picture but your own memory. You tumbled, spiralling into a world of ‘was it this?’ or ‘was it that?’. And the line between each question soon grew thinner, smearing together like streaks of sunlight smudging in tears.

—

It was a slow roll of a shift. No one but the regulars on a quiet Monday morning. The bikers who stop for coffee. The business man here for the Bessy's Diner ‘premium’ breakfast before his day starts. Greasy and warm but with the crispy potatoes. Eggs sunny side up on two slices of golden brown white bloomer bread. The smell stuck in your hair.

You watched through the window as the world turned dark under bruising night sky. His name on your tongue at the back of your teeth. His handprint on your thigh under your yellow polyester skirt. It was the branding of him on you in the most achingly beautiful way you could imagine. You might not be bent in half any more but in your mind you are replaying each thrust that edged you over the side of harrowing oblivion. You were in his bed. Right there. You could almost feel him.

The ding of the pass bell made you blink once, twice, thrice, with a sharp inhale through your nose while you tuned in a daze to collect a cheeseburger and curly fries. You weren't much to look at by your standards – grease stains on your uniform, scuffed shoes and bruised knees; But the man you delivered the meal too had you for his appetiser. Eyeing you like a juicy cut of rump steak, plump and tender to sink one's teeth into. Your nostrils flared and you couldn't help but wonder what Joel would think of his roaming eyes as you gave the trucker a curt but saccharine ‘Enjoy!’ through gritted teeth.

Then it was back to staring out the window while more coffee brewed and the sky sunk deep blue, a rim of purple at the horizon. Like it had been beaten and left by the sun. Clouds murking the sky above like dried blots of ink. A heavy downpour to come and you hadn't bought your coat or umbrella. Headlights beamed through the window in the blue, sailing over your eyes and the wall behind you, making you strain and squint at the familiar number plate.

That very truck had been parked in the middle of your trailer and his. Taunted you now whenever you saw it. Reminded you that he had not come calling since a few nights ago. How long was it now? A week of no contact that made you claw at your skin and the marrow of your very bones ache with the pain as they hollowed out. Waiting for him to fill that place in you again with a sense of being needed. The place only he knew how to reach. It was pathetic and you knew it. But, oh, how you'd fall to your knees in the dirt each time to just see him. To have him call you Cherub. It felt like a dream no one would get to see or feel but you and him. A secret whisper of delight that had a pending knot of tension tighten and twist in your gut. Then a flutter when his truck door opened to reveal him in his usual wife beater tank and dirty denim combo. This time a leather jacket straining over his broad shoulders. Your mouth watered at the sight of his bulge. How, when he stood with the devils own smirk at the sight of you through the window, arm slung over the top of the drivers door, the tank rode up to give a tease of happy trail on his softer tummy. He was a man who could ruin you with a look; Have you pleading to be his anything.

He licked his lips at the promise of his meal. You. All you could do was stand with feet planted firmly to the floor in your frilly hemmed socks and patent mary janes. His picture of innocence dressed in a ditsy diner uniform. His eyes were dark and lit only by the inside glow. They snared you in ways you often found hard to elucidate to yourself. But you'd be a liar if you refused to admit the excitement your gaze held his with. The beaming toothy grin you shone at him as he walked through the entrance. A chilly gust of wind hot on his chunky book clad heels.

“Be right with ya!” You called to him as you took the coffee from its hotplate, unable to keep yourself from smiling. He was here. You would once again be his. Whole.

A girl could dream. Oh she can dream up to the clouds and pass the very sun. But, lord above, how calamity hits like a stone to a dove’s wing. Causing the fall to earth and the fire to consume. This time, Icarus waited for the night. Who knew Selene would give the same backhand as Apollo.

“No need.” He cleared his throat, ambling over in his swagger to slump over the counter against the bar stool. “Lookin’ awful happy, Cherub.” There it was. It had your eyes glazing over in a haze. The first man who gave you a reason. An ability to serve and care and be wanted. “Just happy ‘cause I'm seein’ you.” You sighed. His arms crossed over themselves on the counter and there was Lucifers smile to lull you closer.

“That so?”

You nodded eagerly. “Yeah.” It was ineffable to explain, really. The temptation. But it was so damn perfect you couldn't get enough of it.

“What time you get off then, Cherub?”

“Ten.” You replied instantly. A heat warmed your core. A fizzle of something, a cramping of a dull pleasure spasm in your belly. From there he leaned over, breath tickling your ear as his scuff scratched the shell of it. Made your pulse thrum under your skin. He could feel your supple warmth, noticed how your pretty round chest hitched at the feel of his words in your ear. He ogled you like a hunter would his prey. His next feast.

“Y’think you can help me get off?”

If you had it your way you’d trace each scar, pale of almost rare silver, raised upon his skin. Gnarled. But so unmistakably beautiful it takes your breath away for a moment. Born again, the first breath you take. Learning how to inhale, familiarise yourself with how his chest rises, to then fall with tumble of the exhale. But this was on his terms. It would do. Ideally you'd do it your way. However, he wanted what he wanted. He took. You had so much more to give him if you were just gifted the miracle of opportunity. Jeopardising this love now would be a foolish idea.

“Yes, Joel.” You whispered, though it caught in your throat a little. Joel pulled back to eye you. Chuckling at the sight of your open wide doe eyes. A pretty helpless fawn for him to scrape off the road after being crushed by a truck. Or a bird whose wings needed patching. Little did you know he wasn't mending your wings. Merely plucking feathers from them until you could no longer glide through skies. Only be dragged by him across the ground on a leash. Rubbing flesh raw to the point of bleeding.

“Then i’ll be waitin’ here for ya, Cherub.”

—

He had his eyes on you the whole time. In his stare you saw each scene of what could be play out. What position he'd fix you in before the descent of his hips into yours. The slap of heavy balls against your ass. The ripple of your skin while a hand clapped down on one cheek, then the other. Rendering you useless for the rest of the night. Unable to walk without legs trembling. Poor pretty Bambi. Poor precious Cherub.

You could feel the heat of his eyes lick up the back of your neck. Flushing bright colour into the apples of your cheeks. Each time you passed him, a silent glance from you. A primal, phallic stare from him. Cogs in his mind turning to see what scenario would take his fancy. The look from other customers didn't fall short on his attention. He noticed the way that trucker had eyed you upon giving him the bill. Jealousy curled in his gut because how dare another man so much as think about touching what is rightfully his. What you were so eager to please with. The plush of your breasts, the encompassing warmth of your slick wet cunt. Joel would remember that when you stumble home, his come dribbling down your leg in a thick, gluttonous rivulet. You, so ready to flay yourself open at his word and present all to him. Your broken ribs and beating heart. The blood that bled in vain for him.

At the end of your shift he waited while you got you things from out back, taking out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Thick fingers plucking one ready to light.

“Can't smoke in here, Joel.” You pointed out as his lighter hissed under the roll of his thumb.

“Then hurry up ‘n let me get you outta here, Cherub.” He mumbled, eyes trained on the cigarette between his lips. You admired how the yellow hue of the lighter washed him a glow in brief flashes. The scruff on his jaw lighter. Greyer. Handsomer.

“Okay.”

He led you out with a hand to your back. Hoisted your bike into the bed of his truck and you had to hold your breath at the swell of his muscles under his leather jacket. Its dark shine scuffed and worn down.

He drove you back downtown with the cigarette lit in his mouth to puff on, a hand on your clenching thigh, inching closer up to dangerous territory. He felt how you squirmed inside yourself. As if your bones were begging to be rattled by him. Until the highway bled off into smaller roads towards the trailer park where he opened the window to flick his smoke out and then shut it. You weren’t expecting him to pull over in a lay-by. The trees skeletal as leaves had started to fall here.

The engine sputtered before shutting off with the twist of the key. You found yourself staring at your skirt, picking a loose thread from the hem of it before his finger hooked under your chin. Just like the first time. Still smelling of tobacco and something mustier. Something human. It was hard to see in the dark, but his shadow said it all. It was carved out by the backdrop of trees outside the window. It made a rattling burst of desire dart down your spine and fill the hollow slowburn in your womb.

“Look at me.” So you did. And his finger grasped your chin, almost embedding his touch into your with trembling tingle were he to ever let go. Like a solder’s phantom limb.

“What are we doing here, Joel?” You asked, eyes innocent. Begging to be corrupted and crying.

“Gettin’ me off, Cherub.”

His lips crushed yours like seeds of pomegranate. Chapped and split. The metallic taste of his blood on your tongue. Your lungs breathed him, absorbed him. What noise he gave you, nonsensical as it was, it was a relief there was something. Something you could do. Part your thighs.

While one hand stayed fastened to your chin in its vice grip, his other palmed himself through his jeans. Hips rolling into the heel of his hand and a groan departed from his chest heavily. One you happily consumed with a needy inhale. Desperate to feel something of him inside you.

“Gonna make me feel good, ain’t you, Cherub? My pretty little thing.”

It was hard to nod in his grip. But you managed with the aiding of a whimpering “Mhm!”

“‘M gonna let you feel it.”

The bulge in his jeans was straining at denim and suffocating him. You felt blindly for his erection, fumbling with the belt, button and zipper. Joel smirked into your mouth while his tongue trialled sloppily over your bottom lip, enclosing it between the prison of his gnashers. Biting down hard. The friction of his beard was coarse against the dichotomy of your soft, supple skin.

“Yeah.” He sighed, leaning back in the passenger seat, detaching his lips from you. “Jus’ like that.” You swallowed. Aching to feel him. To have him as a part of you again. But for now you'd settle with the steady dragging stroke of his thick heavy cock in your hand.

You watched him with curiosity, the way his eyes fluttered closed. It was more the way a child would observe a butterfly trapped in a jar. Even though he was anything but delicate.

“Fuckin’ angel aint ya, Cherub?” He swallowed, hips twitching and bucking up into your hand while your thumb rolled over the sensitive head of his dick, smearing a bead of precum over the delicate flushed skin. You salivated like a rabid dog at the sight. The smell of his sex thick on your nose.

You felt the curl of this large hand at the crown of your skull before he pushed you down. Pulling you with him to hell’s heat once more.

“Suck it.”

And you did willingly; Took him into the warm cavern of your mouth, swirling your tongue over the flushed red tip to have the heady taste of him thick on your tastebuds. His hips stuttered, meaning you had to hollow out your mouth and relax your throat to take him as far as he wanted. The ache in your oesophagus burned, bruising deliciously. Tears stung the backs of your eyes, heavy and wet and dripping over the threshold of your eyes, streaking clumpy mascara down your face like an abstract painting for him to smirk at later. His fingers twisted in your hair like brambles through hedgerows. His hands were being laid on you. More like beckoning you closer to being laid to rest in the dirt. Ready for that little death his anatomy promised. The lust between you heated the car, fogging windows slightly.

As you went a little further, and little faster, nails digging into his jeans to ground yourself, you realised you’d never rather be anywhere than with him. Saliva running from your mouth down his shaft, collecting in a shine around the base and rolling over his tightening balls. He chuckled when you gagged, spluttering and heaving on him. Begging for more, you dared to ghost a single finger over your dripping slit. Cunt twitching at the attention. An action that was far from lost on him.

“Did I tell ya you could touch yerself?” He hissed, ripping you from his cock as the heat of an orgasm started to bubble in his lower belly. You spluttered a no, holding your hands up in surrender to him. “Little minx.” He sneered.

You yelped at the grip on your thighs as he kicked your legs out from under you, tugging your underwear from your heat in one swift yank. He held the cotton up to his nose, taking a deep inhale. “Fuckin’ filthy. Just imagine what your uncle would think ‘bout this? Ruining your fucking panties for me.” Shame flooded your gut, but the clench of your tight, drooling hole told you otherwise about disliking the thought. A heat warming your cheeks once more. “Oh, you like that dont you, Cherub?”

“Yeah.” You owned up to the fact. There was no point in lying. He’d fuck the truth out of you one way or another.

With your hands still raised, you watched in fucked out awe of his tonge that darted out to taste your slick on your underwear. His eyes closed as he savoured the tang on his tongue. There was no need to commit it to memory. If he wanted it again all he need do was ask. Your legs would part open, panties in his hand again.

“Taste like fuckin’ honey, Cherub. All sweet and sticky.” His voice verberated in your chest and his and had your eyes blurring in a split of a second. Crawling back once again to the memory in his trailer. “What do you think? Should I shove these in your mouth instead of my cock? Huh, Cherub?” You swallowed at the thought. “Nah…” He cast the thought aside, tossing them in the backseat. “I might just go easy on ya tonight.”

That was a short lived promise, for he was sliding back his seat as far as it would go, dragging you into his lap, thick head prodding the weeping entrance of your cunt. Waiting deliciously for the stretch of him. Whole again. Make me whole again. You begged to the ears of your own mind. Please!

“Sit down.” He demanded. And you obeyed; Notching him between the slick lips of your pussy. He hands found grounding purchase on your hips, grinding you along the underside of his thick length. Smearing your juices over himself. Each time the tip so much as grazed your clit it had you whimpering his name. Had your brain scrambling to form a coherent sentence. It was sinful Disgusting. But the way it felt was enough to cast a shadow on those doubts. Turn out the light, and set them to temporary sleep in your head.

The roll of your hips worked in tandem with the taboo buck of his thrusts. His neck strained and veins bulged under tight tension knotted, gnarled skin.

“This pussy’s made for this, ain't it, Cherub? Made for makin’ me feel good.”

“Yeah.” You mumbled while two thick fingers slipped into your mouth. The rough pads of them pressing into your tongue. You pressed your lips around them, taking his digits down to the last knuckle. His taste was rich in your mouth. One you'd never even dream of forgetting.

Your humping got faster, more erratic and less careful. Big. Mistake.

“Don’t go getting sloppy on me now, Cherub.”

You whined. It was all you were good for. All you could do. There was only so much finesse you could master with the steering wheel at your back, digging into your arching, aching spine. You waxed and waned over him in more careful movements now. Made sure to press down with each roll back over his shaft. All while he had an open mouthed trained gaze on the way his fingers slipped in and out of your mouth. Slow. Setting the pace for you to mimic. Lips puffy, saliva slick.

From there, it was your dress. Greedy and heavy hands popping the buttons of it open and stripping you down to nothing but flesh. It crumpled around your waist. His lips pursed while suckling your nipples into his mouth until they were pert and erect on his tongue. Teeth sinking into tender flesh, jaw unhinged as he took a bite of their swell and mimicked it on the other side.

It was so bad. So, so, so bad. If there truly was a god you’d be signed over to hell. But you didn't care, how could you when you felt the burn in your belly of your orgasm. The stars sputtering over the backs of your closed lids in a hypnotic kaleidoscope image. Either way, you were damned. Icarus to Apollo’s heat. His heat was burning. Scalding. Making a sheen of thick, damp sweat accumulate over your skin. Chest heaving into his mouth while your back arched and held tight like the string of a bow ready to release.

“Fuck– please, Joel. Wanna– fuck– come. Wanna come!” You whined around his fingers. To which he replied by ripping them from your mouth and striking a heavy hand over your cheek. The sting was thrilling. It made the apples of your cheeks tingle, begging him to do it again. Abuse you in any way he saw fit because the pleasure burning, building in your core had your cunt clenching. Ready to let go at his given word. He bared his teats at you while he smeared his tongue and spit over your tits.

“No. You come when I say and only when I say.”

And with those as his damning words, he lifted your hips off his, using a hand to line himself up with precision, spearing into you in one fowl swoop. You bit back a scream on your bottom lip from the intrusion. But before you could let the pain sink in it melted into brain fogging pleasure. You had to clench your walls around his thick length, his cock hot and pulsing within your cunt that spasmed with the promise to unwind. Had you a babbling crying mess in his lap while he jackhammered up into you. Balls slapping your spread cheeks.

His palm closed around your pulse, the other in your hair as you held yourself just above him on trembling legs so he could have the room to thirst upwards, swollen cockhead nipping your cervix vigorously like the last time. Whatever broken thing inside you that made you yearn for this could rattle around within of you. It was nothing unless it got you here to the sheer pleasure you felt when in his unforgiving arms. You’d go easily like this. Tear stained cheeks as you babbled his name nonsensically. All for him to keep up the relentless pace of his hips. The coarse hairs at the base of his cock adding a friction to your twitching clit that wasn't needed. You were already on edge. God, how you lived for the little death.

“Please, sir!” If anything else you did didn't set him off, that did. The words sweetened by the whine that curled from the back of your throat and dripped into his ears like fine wine. High pitched needy for him to finish you off. Deliver the killing blow.

The hand tangled in your hair jerked your head back, leaving your jaw to hang open and your eyes to roll back in your skull. Your toes curled in their frilly socks and shoes, the tingle turning to numbness and then to an overstimulated pain that you couldn't stave off any longer.

“Gonna come ain ya, Cherub? After I’ve been so fuckin’ nice to ya. Let ya touch me. Feel me inside of ya.” He pressed a hand over your womb, feeling the bulge of himself each time he fucked up to meet that perfect spot inside you. “Feel me fuckin’ wrecking this cunt for anyone else?” And you nodded stupidly, finding it hard to breathe with his other hand still at your neck. He could feel the quickening of your pulse under your flesh. “Words, Cherub.” He growled with heat into your pulse. “Or have I fucked you dumb, pretty girl?”

“Yes! Yes, Joel, I'm yours! Yours yours yours!”

“The fucking come. Show me.”

And finally, the closing scene to this act of sin. The little death you had been waiting for swelled within you, sending you falling from the stars in your eyes and back down to earth – crashing into the wall of his chest. A string of curses from his sneering lips and he released inside of you, balls tightening and dick twitching sheathed within you. His thick, hot come dribbled gluttonously from your quivering cunt. And you were twitching uncontrollably against him.

Your chests heaved out of sync with each other. Him out, you in. You accommodated the invading rise of his chest with the crushing and concaving of your own. His cock softened inside of you and in the mess he had made of you cunt. You were well and truly wrecked for anyone but him. Your body, no matter how much you may come to hate this fact in future, belongs to his pleasure.

You will forever be his fallen angel. His Cherub.

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