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joelscurls · 5 months

Text

best kept secret

pairing: dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

words: 6.7k

summary: In an attempt to keep your relationship secret, Joel agrees to a blind date set up by his best friend / your father. You don't take it well.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, pre-outbreak, age gap (reader is in her early 20s, Joel is 36), secret relationship, angst, explicit smut, oral (f!receiving), unprotected piv, semi-public sex, car sex, creampie, some fluff; lmk if I missed anything!

a/n: so sorry it took me almost a month to post something new ffs - life got busy and my inspiration simultaneously disappeared. but we're back, baby! anyway, dbf!joel owns my ass, so here's my rendition of him. as always, ty to my baby @javisashtray for reading this over for me and helping me through the creative process <3

Joel’s bedroom window offers a perfect view of the sunrise; of shy, pink light creeping over treetops and the roof of your dad’s house across the street.

It’s gorgeous — breathtaking, even — maybe because you can count on one hand the number of times you’ve actually seen the crest of morning. You’re far more privy to late nights and sleeping in as long as you can push it, never been one to be up with the lark, so to speak.

You don’t mind the early wakeup call, though, not when it’s this: Joel’s head tucked between your thighs, his tongue rolling lazily over your clit, your eyes still adjusting to the light as he spreads you open for him.

He’s humming against you, his coarse beard tickling soft skin, thumbs dug into muscle to hold you in place as your back bows reflexively off the mattress. He looks so sweet like this, so eager to please, staring up at you with blown pupils.

“C’mon baby,” he purrs. ��Just gimme one before you go.”

They’re the first words he’s said all morning, the first thought that’s necessitated utterance. His voice is hoarse and deep and drips honey-sweet at your core.

Even so, despite how badly you want to — because you always want Joel’s mouth on you — you’re not sure you can.

Because you need to get home before Denise next door leaves for her early shift. Before Susan a few houses down takes her dog out for a walk.

Before the neighborhood wakes and somebody sees you leaving Joel Miller’s house. Or worse, before your dad catches you slipping into the house in yesterday’s clothes, your car in the driveway still cold.

But with another experimental flick of Joel’s tongue, you forget all that, a content little sigh slipping past your parted lips, betraying you.

Just one, you tell yourself, and then you’ll head out.

“Fuck, okay — yeah,” you breathe, twisting your fingers into the roots of his curls.

With your permission, he buries his nose in your mound. Licks at you again — with more purpose, this time. One long, drawn out lap followed by another.

He’s so gentle with you, so careful, caressing your folds with his tongue like they’re made of paper. It’s a dizzying juxtaposition to the way he laid you down last night and fucked you, teeth scraping your neck and cock bruising your cervix.

You’re still sore, your walls tender where he stretched them, but your pussy is drooling nonetheless, surely making a mess of the bedsheets underneath you.

Because you’re insatiable when it comes to Joel.

For the past few weeks, since the first time you’d found yourself in his bed, you’ve craved him. Regardless of how sated he’s left you each and every time, you’ve needed more.

It’s dangerous and stupid and undeniably wrong, having a fling with your dad’s best-friend. But you’re finding it difficult to consider the morality of it all when just his tongue makes you come harder than any other man’s cock ever has.

That tongue, now dipping into your apex, drawing more slick out of you as his thumb finds your swollen clit — It’s overwhelming how good it feels, how good he is at this.

He’s bringing you to the edge languidly, savoring the taste of you, the feel of your silky flesh. It’s like he doesn’t want this to be over, needs to stretch the moment as far as it’ll go, milk every last second before you slip from his grasp.

But it’s going to end soon; it’s inevitable with the way he’s laving your pussy, the crushed velvet of his tongue gliding through your folds so wet and warm. Your orgasm is building, and you’re powerless to stave it off any longer.

“Joel,” you warn, his name a high-pitched whine.

“Shh, I know babygirl; it’s okay.”

Two of his fingers hook at your entrance and push in, pacifying you as his thumb continues working your clit. “I got you. Let go for me, sweetheart.”

The soothe of his voice floods your senses like nitrous; renders your body loose and your head foggy. You come apart with a string of shattered breaths, eyes rolled back and fingers twisted into the duvet.

Joel talks you through it: that’s it, pretty girl; so good for me; always so good for me, and though he sounds so far away, his words are the only thing keeping you tethered to reality.

The world comes back into view slowly. Air settles in your lungs. And you can’t help but laugh at how fucked-out you feel when you peer down at Joel, his gaze already locked on you, expectantly.

“Okay?” he asks, rubbing at your inner thigh.

“Yeah,” you exhale, corners of your lips pulling taut. “More than okay.”

He smiles back at you. Props himself up with hands planted either side of you on the mattress and hovers over your feeble form.

“Good,” he whispers, dipping his head down to kiss your forehead, your nose, your mouth. He licks into you, letting you taste yourself on him — a little sweet, a little bitter — and his lips are so soft that you nearly melt. “Did so good, angel.”

You want nothing more than to spend all day in this bed with him. Return the favor a few times over. Learn what he looks like in the afternoon sun against the backdrop of navy blue sheets. What he tastes like after his coffee rather than before.

“I don’t want to leave,” you admit against his mouth and he frowns, taking one of your hands in his. He presses a kiss to each of your knuckles, one by one, his eyes never straying from yours.

“I don’t want you to either, darlin’. But you can come back tonight, yeah?”

Tonight. Hours away. A whole day between now and then. But it’ll have to do.

“Tonight,” you repeat. Solidify it.

You slink home just as the street lights dim.

The house is quiet when you enter, apart from the incessant ticking of the grandmother clock in the living room. It sets off a throbbing in your head, a dull pang right at the front of your skull that you massage with two fingers as you ascend the stairs.

You move cautiously up each step, wincing at every creak of old wood. It must take minutes to reach the second-floor landing, and then you’re tiptoeing past your father’s room, listening for signs of sleep behind the seal of his door. Sure enough, you catch it, a single, drawn-out snore, loud enough that you let your feet fall, shuffling the rest of the way to the bathroom across the hall.

You immediately crank the shower on, climbing in as soon as you see steam. Lathering your skin with citrus-scented body wash, the smell of sex washes off your body and down the drain.

The warm water soothes your sore muscles; bittersweet relief. You stand there until the stream grows icy, stepping out and toweling yourself off just as you hear the familiar blare of your dad’s alarm on the other side of the wall.

By the time you’ve dressed and made your way downstairs, he’s already in the kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee with his back to you.

Sink empty, counters borderline sparkling, a coaster tucked under his warm mug — your father is a neat man. He does not take kindly to mess.

God forbid, anybody disrupt the sacred balance of his home; move something and forget to put it back, break something of his that should be kept intact.

“Hey.”

“Hey, kiddo,” he yawns. Turns to face you. “You were up early. Heard the shower going.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” you lie.

“Something on your mind?”

Heat blooms across your chest and up your neck. There’s no way he knows — you’ve been far too careful. Still, you’re on edge, and the question lodges itself between your ribs uncomfortably as you frantically search for an answer.

“Uh, n-no,” you stutter. “Just work stuff, I guess.”

He seems to buy it, reaching for the percolator and re-filling his mug with a sigh, “Just gotta give it time. You only just started. Plus, it’s your first job out of school. They don’t expect you to know it all right away.”

It’s good advice, if not misguided. You nod as if you’re absorbing it, taking it straight to heart. As if your mind isn’t preoccupied.

You grab a mug from the cabinet. Fill it with coffee and creamer. Perch yourself at the breakfast table and take a slow, steadying sip.

The caffeine has just about seeped into your bloodstream when-

-there’s a knock at the door.

Your dad shoots you a puzzled look, one which you immediately return. Who could that be, so early on a Wednesday morning?

And when he pushes open the door to reveal none other than Joel, you just about fall out of your chair. Your nails absentmindedly dig into the wood of the table in an attempt to brace yourself.

“Oh, buddy — hey! Come on in,” your dad says, patting him on the back as he steps over the threshold. “Wasn’t expecting you.”

You grasp the handle of your mug like a lifeline. For a fleeting moment, you worry the ceramic will shatter in your hands.

Joel is dressed — blue cotton t-shirt covering his broad back and the deep, red scratches you left there when you dug your nails into skin, your legs hiked over his hips and your face tucked into his chest.

The pair of boxers peeking over the waistband of his jeans are different from the ones you pulled off of him last night, the ones he shimmied back into before you slept cradled in his arms.

He’s a different Joel here, now — your father’s friend, your neighbor — not the man who breaks you down with his tongue or the one who calls you his good girl while you take his entire, throbbing length.

No, this Joel, standing in your kitchen in the presence of your father, has never betrayed him. Hasn’t tasted his friend’s daughter or felt the tight embrace of her wet, warm cunt around his cock. This Joel is reliable, honest, not one to do harm.

You do not desire this Joel, cannot. You must look at him with apathetic eyes. Must keep the boat of your longing at bay.

Easier said than done. It’s as if your desire for him is a feral beast, fed by his touch and left starving in its wake. You feel like you’ve just run a marathon, sweat beading at your collar as you not-so-subtly follow the subconscious flex of his hands, the bunching of fabric over his biceps.

His voice bounces off the backsplash, and your fingers tighten around the handle of your mug.

“Yeah, I uh — I went to make myself coffee and realized I was out. Was hopin’ you might have some to spare?”

He can’t be serious. He came over for coffee? He couldn’t get some on the road?

“I’m afraid she took the last of it,” your dad’s eyes point to you, and you ignore the burn of Joel’s gaze when his follow.

“Ahh,” he says. “‘ts okay. I’ll grab some on my way in.”

His fingers taptaptap on the edge of the countertop, bottom lip tucked between his teeth like there’s something else. Another reason he came here.

And then you spot it — your wallet, dark red leather, poking out the top of Joel��s back pocket.

You must’ve left it in his room before you hurried home. Somewhere amongst the mess of trinkets and trash on his dresser. You half-remember dropping it there last night as he’d kneeled in front of you and peppered kisses up the length of your leg.

Thankfully, your dad is oblivious as ever, giving Joel the perfect opportunity to inconspicuously slip you your wallet when he turns around and crosses the kitchen, placing his empty mug in the sink.

Joel sidesteps once, twice, extending his arm and snapping it back as soon as you have the wallet in your grasp.

Your father clears his throat. Spins to find Joel exactly where he was. “I’ve been thinking,” he starts, wrestling a slice of bread out of the bag and dropping it into the toaster, “I gotta set you up with this co-worker of mine, Deb.”

Joel freezes. You watch as the color drains from his face and his large hand anxiously cards through dark curls. You’re pretty sure you freeze too, breath caught somewhere in your throat until your dad turns to you and you remember to exhale.

“You know Deb, right, honey?” he asks. You mentally flick through the rolodex of your dad’s coworkers.

There’s Leanne, tall redhead, hosted a potluck a few months back at which you tasted the worst mac & cheese you’ve ever had. And Barbara from accounting, who he got into a heated argument with over who makes the best BBQ in the city. You only remember her name because he hadn’t shut up about how wrong her opinion was for a full week.

This woman actually thinks the Smoke Shop has got better ribs than Lou’s. I said to her, Barbara, your taste buds must be absolutely torched.

But Deb? You don’t recall a Deb. Still, you’re pretty sure you hate her, just in hearing her name in this context.

You shake your head, no.

“Well, I guess you haven’t seen her in a while. She was there that day I brought you into the office.”

“When I was ten?” you retort.

“Yeah, I guess it was that long ago, huh?”

You shrug. He returns his attention to Joel. “Anyway, Deb – she’s around your age, just got divorced about a year back, and she’s a real nice woman. I think you two would really hit it off.”

“Is that so?” Joel replies. You swear his voice wavers. If your dad notices, he doesn’t say anything.

“You’ll like her Joel, I promise. I mean, when’s the last time you went out with a nice lady? Not since – what was her name — Jean? And if things were going well with her, I’d hope you’d tell your old friend.” The toaster pops, and he retrieves his slice of toast. Grabs a butter knife from the utensil drawer.

“No, I ain’t seeing Jean,” Joel sighs. Flashes you an apologetic glance as your dad slathers his toast in artificial purple jam, blissfully unaware.

“Well, you gotta get back out there!”

Joel’s gaze rolls to the ceiling. “I don’t know – I’m just not real interested in datin’ right now.”

You exhale, then — a quiet declaration of relief that seems to go unnoticed — unperturbed even when your dad continues his pitch.

I’ve known this woman for years Joel, I’m telling you, the two of you’d be the perfect match; she’s a looker too, real pretty.

Ew. Tuning him out, you check the clock, find that you only have a few minutes before you need to get going. You stand from the table and make your way toward the sink with your now-empty coffee mug in hand.

Would I ever lead you astray? your dad is asking just as you brush past Joel. His hand, idle by his side, catches the fabric of your blouse and you have to fight to ignore the pinprick of electricity it ignites under your skin.

“No, I know,” Joel grumbles. “I trust your judgment ‘n all, ‘ts just-”

“Will you just give her a chance?”

“Jesus; fine.”

The mug slips from your grip, falls into the sink with a clang.

Your dad glares at you, expression softening only when you gesture to the still-intact ceramic lying on its side in the basin.

He’s quickly distracted, then, jotting a series of numbers down onto a scrap of notebook paper, the blue ink pressed in so hard that it’s beginning to bleed through.

“Atta boy,” he drawls, sliding it across the counter. Joel pinches it between two fingers, folds the paper without looking at it and stuffs it into his front pocket.

“Promise you’ll give her a call tonight? I may or may not have already talked you up, and I need to know you’re not gonna make me look bad here.”

Joel has to see you staring at him out of the corner of his eye. He must. If looks could kill, he’d be six feet under already. But he’s refusing to meet your gaze, eyes glued to the cabinet directly in front of him as he nods. “Yeah, I’ll call her tonight,” he says, a small, unconvincing smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

He’s actually agreeing to this?

You need to get out of here before you say something rash.

The anger bubbles in you slowly, then all at once, threatening to boil over as you slip on your shoes and sling your bag over your shoulder.

Marching toward the door, you offer a half-hearted bye, not bothering to look back before you leave.

The office is already milling with people by the time you stroll in, ten minutes late.

The conversation between Joel and your dad is still running laps in your head as you sneak past your boss’s door.

It sticks there through the morning and well into the afternoon, your dad’s words an incessant earworm: I think you two would really hit it off.

The thing is — you can’t blame Joel for saying yes to the setup. Not really. Your situation is complicated, messy, bound to end badly.

Maybe he’d be happier with Deb.

They could take walks together, stroll through the grocery store or down the street hand-in-hand. Throw dinner parties and shamelessly gush about their relationship to their friends. All without fear of being caught doing something wrong.

Because that’s what this is, you and Joel — it’s wrong. Not like you weren’t already well aware of that. Leave it to some woman you’ve never met to rub it in.

The day passes infuriatingly slow.

The pile of emails in your inbox only grows larger by the time you’re due to clock out, stack of reports on your desk barely touched. You wince when your boss stops by your cubicle on her way out, eager for an update.

“Sorry, Linda; a couple of these were more time-consuming than I’d hoped,” you lie. But you can tell she doesn’t buy it, not one bit, her expression souring as you shuffle through papers.

“I need these done by the end of the week, no matter what.”

“Of course,” you mutter, face heating with embarrassment. “I’ll get them done and on your desk by Friday.”

“Thanks.” Her heels are already clacking on tile when you open your mouth to apologize again, your sorry lost to the ether.

You gather your things and scramble to your feet as soon as she’s out of view, not sticking around to watch your computer power down. By the time you get to your car, Joel’s number is already dialed on your phone.

He picks up after two rings.

“Darlin’ — are you okay?”

It’s admittedly uncharacteristic for you to call him so early. You usually wait until after dark, when you’ve both retreated to your respective bedrooms, away from listening ears.

But this can’t wait. It’s been eating at you all day, digging into your work. If you don’t talk to him about it, you’re going to end up unemployed. You don’t bother to ask if he’s still on the job site, around other people. “You’re going on this date.” It’s not a question. More of an accusation.

“Baby,” he sighs. You try your best to ignore his molasses drawl and the way it seeps into your chest.

“Why didn’t you say no?”

“How could I?” he groans. “There’s your dad, askin’ me if I’m seein’ someone, sayin’ he’s already told this lady about me – what am I supposed to say?”

“I don’t know.” Your voice comes out a whine. “Make something up. Tell him you’ve taken a vow of celibacy.”

He laughs, low and breathy on the other end. “Yeah, baby. Think he’d believe that one, f’sure.”

“Fuck,” you huff. “I just— I don’t-“

You want to tell him not to go. To cancel. Fake his own death. Do whatever it takes to get out of this. But you have no right, not really. The two of you aren’t dating. You don’t have any control over what he does or who he sees. And you don’t want that, no. You just want him to choose you.

“I don’t wanna go, darlin’. I really don’t. But if I do this, I think it’ll get him off my back for a while. He won’t have a reason to suspect that I’m foolin’ around with his daughter.”

Fooling around. His phrasing is a metaphorical punch in the gut.

It’s not exactly a lie. You haven’t put a label on this thing, whatever it is. It’s been purely physical: lips slotted to lips, tongues pressed together, swapped sweat and saliva. But hearing it reduced to two words, words with such a casual connotation — as if you haven’t been driven by overwhelming desire — makes your stomach churn.

Joel doesn’t seem to clock it when you go quiet, a cocktail of rage and sorrow sloshing around your insides. “It’s for the best,” he adds, a shot of hard, burning liquor.

“Yeah,” you say defeatedly. Choke back the pathetic tears that creep up your throat. “For the best.”

He ends the call with the excuse of bad cell reception. Promises to talk to you later. You’re not sure that you believe him.

The phrase fooling around curls up in your head, a wet dog, its fur dripping into the crevices of your rattled brain the entire drive home.

You dodge Joel’s calls for the remainder of the week.

There’s no use in talking to him when you have nothing to say, when you know any words you attempt will be overtaken by tears.

Even so, it doesn’t stop him from trying. His number lights up the screen of your phone at least twice a day.

He leaves voicemails that you do not listen to. You can’t. The last thing you need is his syruppy drawl in your ear. You’ll break; you know you will.

So instead, you delete them. Rid yourself of temptation.

But you still ache for him — a devastating truth. You lumber through the days, bones heavy with hurt. Find yourself kept up at night by thoughts of Joel and the infuriatingly soothing timbre of his voice, the intoxicating callous of his fingertips against your soft skin.

It’s a lonely thing, yearning for Joel Miller.

On Friday, your father beams at the dinner table. He’s grinning like a child as he stuffs a forkful of rice into his mouth.

“Joel and Deb’s date is tomorrow,” he says. “Think they’ll really hit it off, don’t you?”

You’re dumbfounded for a long moment — can’t believe that this is your life now: being asked about your thoughts on Joel and the ever-elusive Deb as a couple. When it takes too long for you to answer, your father’s fork stills pointedly on his plate, and you sputter.

“Oh! I mean, I don’t know. Like I said, I don’t remember Deb.” You can’t help your condescending tone. Your dad doesn’t seem to catch it anyway.

“Well,” he says, “I think they’ll be a match. Hoping so, anyway. The man has been such a hermit lately — maybe if he has a lady, he’ll get out more!”

“You sound real excited,” you grumble. Stab four peas on the prongs of your fork.

“It is exciting. I’ve never set anyone up before. And the best part is, the place they’re going to — the Tavern — it’s got rooms you can rent out for wedding receptions. Just imagine if down the line, they got mar-“

“Dad,” you stop him. You think you’ll be physically sick if you let him finish that sentence. “Sorry, I just — I’m really tired, all of a sudden. I think I’m going to head to bed early.”

It’s not a complete lie. You’re emotionally exhausted as a result of the past couple days. Sleep sounds like a much-needed, blissful escape right now.

Your dad doesn’t question you. He just nods. Swipes your plate from in front of you and brings it to the sink along with his.

Of course, you find it impossible to actually drift off that night. Tossing and turning, you battle the glaring urge to get up, slink into the home-office and look up directions to the Tavern.

Not that you’re planning to go there anytime soon — you’re just curious. That’s all.

Around midnight, you give up, pad down the hallway and into the room parallel yours. The computer dials up slowly, and you chew your bottom lip as you wait.

You snatch a piece of paper from the printer and a pen from the #1 Dad mug that sits next to the monitor. Click on the internet icon and type the words into the search bar.

This is definitely a bad idea. Maybe the worst you’ve had in a while.

You jot the address down anyway.

Downtown Austin is buzzing with life.

Patrons spilling out of bars, tourists striding down the street in their brand new Stetsons – it almost distracts you from the task at hand.

At just past seven, you’d told your dad you were going out, meeting a friend for drinks. He’d been a bit taken aback, seeing as you’re not very social these days, but he’d seemed happy. Relieved.

That’s not what you’re doing, of course.

No – in reality, you’re turning into the parking lot attached to the Tavern. It’s packed to the brim with cars, but you still manage to find Joel’s truck, its license plate number burned into the back of your mind after countless mornings of absently reading it as you snuck past.

It’s idle and empty when you inch by, and even though you knew he’d be here, on this date, your heart still sinks. Because maybe a tiny part of you had hoped he’d stand Deb up.

You should leave. It was stupid to come here in the first place. What are you going to do — storm inside and demand that he leave with you?

You consider it for half a second, groaning when you realize how pitiful you are. Defeated, you swing your car into a spot at the back, facing the building, and shift it into park. You hug the steering wheel dejectedly.

From here, you have a straight-shot view of the restaurant’s entrance, a set of double doors at the side of the building. Groups spill out every so often, every pair that emerges causing your back to arch reflexively.

Joel and Deb are probably discussing their interests right now, bonding over a shared connection with your dad. You can vividly picture the smile likely plastered across his face — the same one you’ve elicited with sweet filth whispered in his ear.

And you’re here, sitting in your running car, watching the door. Your pulse thumps obnoxiously loud in your ears.

Minutes pass like molasses, slow and thick. You watch the clock on the car radio obsessively, betting with yourself on what time they’ll leave. After thirty minutes of nothing, you’re convinced that they’re going to close the place out.

But then the door opens again, and you straighten up, immediately met with the sight of Joel and Deb.

She’s talking animatedly, eyes widening every few words, blonde hair wafting around her narrow face. It’s undeniable that she’s stunning, even from far away; possesses the kind of beauty you see on magazine covers in line at the grocery store. The jealousy that pools in your gut burns like acetone in an open wound.

She takes his arm as they walk toward the parking lot, and he lets her, despite the rest of his body appearing strangely rigid.

You wonder if he’ll take her home. Lead her to his truck, help her up the step to the passenger seat and sneak a look at her ass under her dress before shutting the door. If they’ll leave her car in the lot for the night, come back to retrieve it in the morning once he’s helped her forget about her loser ex-husband; let the scent of her perfume seep into the bed sheets to cover up yours.

But he doesn’t lead her to his truck. You watch as they unexpectedly turn down a row of cars, disappearing from your view completely, his arm still locked with hers.

He could still kiss her. Press her against the car. Promise her that he’ll call — and he will, first thing tomorrow. He’s probably just being a real gentleman. Treating her like a woman he might want to marry someday.

Maybe he knows, after just one date, that she’s his soulmate. He’ll buy the ring in a couple weeks. They’ll be engaged in a month’s time, and he’ll say he just couldn’t wait any longer.

She’s the one thing I’ve been missing.

You stew in the agonizing unknown for what feels like hours before Joel materializes once again, backside illuminated by headlights as he strides toward his truck.

And then — he stops. You see the exact moment he notices your car in the parking lot, his eyebrows threading together and his hands splaying over his hips.

He’s staring directly through the windshield. At you.

Fuck.

He takes a few slow steps. Stops in front of the hood. Narrows his eyes and flexes his jaw.

With a deep breath, you unlock the doors. Gesture for him to get in the passenger side.

He immediately rounds the car, prying the door open and climbing inside just as a SUV pulls out the row he and Deb had walked down.

The door slams when he yanks it closed. The sound echoes through the cab of the car.

“You wanna fuckin’ explain what you’re doin’ here?” he snaps. You’re afraid to look him in the eye, embarrassment and now, anger, spooling hot behind your ears.

You know you’re in the wrong. You shouldn’t have followed him. But does he have to be so hostile?

When your gaze finally meets his, he looks — distraught — jaw clenched and lips set in a straight line. His fingers absently dig into denim-covered thighs.

“I don’t know,” you mumble, “I just wanted to see how you were with her.” And it’s the truth; not one you want to be admitting right now, to him, but it’s the truth nonetheless.

“Doesn’t give you the right to spy on me.”

“So what was I supposed to do? Sit at home and mope while the guy I was seeing is on a date with someone else? Oh no, I’m sorry,” you throw your hands up, form air quotes with your fingers, “the guy I was fooling around with.”

This seems to strike a nerve. His jaw twitches, and his fingers still on his lap.

“It wasn’t like that,” he grits

“No? Isn’t that all this was to you: fooling around?”

There’s a beat. Joel sighs.

“No — fuck, no. Of course not.”

His expression softens. A crack in solid stone. “I tried callin’ you,” he says, voice barely above a whisper.

“I know,” you admit.

He nods. Another beat.

“Did you kiss her?” you ask.

“No.” He says it with intent, with promise, eyes firmly locked on yours now.

Your mouth goes dry.

“No?”

“No,” he repeats. “I didn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I didn’t want to.”

“You don’t want her?”

“No,” he says flatly, his pupils bulging in the lamplight, black bleeding into the brown of his irises. “I don’t want her.”

“Why not?”

He leans forward. His weight presses into the center console and his breath fans your face — warm, tinged with the scent of cheap beer.

“I don’t want her,” he says, voice an octave lower, “because I want you. I thought you knew that?”

The radio drones between the two of you, some classic rock song you think you recognize flitting through the speaker. Your pulse beats staccato in your throat, off tempo.

“You want me?” you ask, a little breathless, and the next words you say are beyond dumb, beyond reckless, but you say them anyway. “Prove it.”

Joel doesn’t hesitate. He closes the slight distance between you and kisses you, hard, his tongue frantically sliding against yours through parted lips.

It’s sloppy, and desperate, and you feel drunk on the taste of him, on longing laced with carnal need. He’s groaning into your mouth, grabbing your head with both hands, burying his fingers in your hair — as if he can’t get close enough, as if he’ll only be satisfied once he’s swallowed you whole. You’re pretty sure you want him to.

Your hands move frantically to his t-shirt, then, bunch into the fabric and pull. You need to feel the skin underneath, need to rove your hands along his bare chest. He accommodates, tugging the shirt by the back of the collar, lips separating from yours ever-so-briefly to bring it over his head and toss it onto the backseat.

And then he’s back on you, licking into your mouth again, eliciting a whimper from you when his hand wraps around the side of your throat, just under your jaw.

Your palms splay across his torso, wander over warm, golden skin. You’ve missed this, god, you’ve missed this — but it’s still not enough. You need to feel more of him. In your mouth, in your hand, in your cunt — you’re not picky. Just need him in whatever way he’ll provide.

“Joel,” you whimper into his mouth, fingers winding around his bicep.

He pulls back. Peers at you through hooded eyes. “What is it, baby?” he asks through labored breaths.

“Need you — please.”

He immediately unbuckles your seatbelt. Lowers his seat back and manhandles you onto his lap. You go easily; slot yourself to him with legs folded on either side of his thighs.

Wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, you grind down into his lap. His cock strains against denim underneath you. He groans when you swivel your hips and brush the heft of it again with your clothed heat.

“You gonna let me fuck you?” he asks into your mouth, his forehead pressed to yours.

Your breath catches.

You know what he’s really asking: are you going to let him fuck you here, in the parking lot of a public establishment, where anybody could see?

But you don’t care. In fact, you’re way past caring, the emptiness of your cunt too painful to ignore any longer. Let them watch him take what’s his.

You nod frantically. “Yes,” you pant. “Please.”

Joel nods too, as if he’s accepting his fate. He’s going to fuck his friend’s daughter in the passenger seat of her car. There’s no way around it — not when you’re begging for it. He’s going to give you what you need.

“Okay,” he soothes, “I got you baby.”

He helps you out of your pants, then; clumsily maneuvers them down and off your legs along with your panties and tosses them aimlessly into the back.

He doesn’t bother to take his jeans off. Lets you unzip them and pop the button open, your nimble fingers making quick work of it. And then you’re pulling his cock out of his boxers, stiff and leaking in your grasp.

You steady yourself with hands on his shoulders just as he begins to pepper placating kisses along your neck. “Go ahead baby,” he whispers into your ear. “Take it; it’s yours.”

His head falls back against the seat as you stroke him a few times and line his cock up with your dripping entrance, his hands clasped around your waist.

You sink down slowly, savoring every inch of him as he burrows in deeper. He’s so thick, stretching you like it’s the first time again, your walls fluttering as they relax around his cock.

“Fuck,” Joel slurs, fingers digging into your skin impatiently when you still, fully seated on him.

“Gotta move baby — please move.”

He’s so fucking deep, though, his cockhead bumping your cervix, and your entire body feels gelatinous atop him. A cloying sort of heat hangs around your head. You swivel your hips weakly, your forehead falling to rest on his with a heavy sigh.

Joel is happy to take control, bucking up into you so hard you see stars. You can’t suppress the string of moans that spill from your mouth, and Joel doesn’t seem to mind. He’s just as loud, anyway, his broken sounds bleeding into yours, bouncing off glass and leather.

Neither of you can muster an actual word, though, not with him rutting up into you, sheathing himself in your pussy over and over again. He’s relentlessly hitting that spot — the one that has you practically clinging to him for dear life.

It’s approaching too quickly; he’s going to make you come.

One of your hands flies to the roof of the car in an attempt to brace yourself, flat palm pressing into it so hard you worry it’ll pop.

Joel takes the opportunity to drag you down in his lap, spearing you on his cock, and the sudden change in angle makes you cry out.

“Oh f— ahh, oh my—“

“That’s it,” he coos, “you got it, babygirl.”

His words tip you over the edge, your entire body locking up as you gush around him. You’re wetting his lap, slick splattering his thighs, and he loves it, his fervid moan telling you so.

His movements begin to falter then, hips stuttering underneath you as he chases his own high.

“Cmon, baby,” you goad, “please fill me up.”

He grunts when he spills inside, his face nestling in your chest, heaving as he works through it and begins to come down. You don’t move, not that Joel would let you, still holding you on his lap like he’s afraid to let you go.

You nuzzle into his embrace as his cock softens inside you.

You stay like that for a while, probably too long given that anybody could easily look into the car and see you straddling him. You don’t have the energy to care.

Eventually, you lift your head from its spot on Joel’s chest. Look up at him with bleary eyes.

“Joel,” you say.

He meets your gaze, face shiny with sweat and his hair a mess. He looks gorgeous like this, you think. The way only you get to see him.

“Yeah?” He grazes along your arm with featherlight fingers. His touch raises goosebumps on your skin.

“Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

“About wanting me.” In truth, you’re not sure you want the answer. But you need to know, definitively, if Joel is yours. You’re done sharing him.

“Oh, baby,” he drawls. “Of course I do. You’re all I want. Do you want me?”

And it’s a stupid question. He has to know that. You’re nodding before he can even finish it. “Yes,” you breathe. “I want you, Joel”

“Then it’s settled. It’s me and you. No more…interlopers.”

You giggle. Reluctantly separate yourself from his body and re-dress. You settle back into the driver’s seat with achy legs.

You’ve never felt more content than you do in this moment.

Still, you’ll have to hide — won’t be able to share the news of your new relationship with friends or coworkers, your dad — and neither will Joel.

You don’t care much, not as long as he’s yours, but you need to be sure he feels the same.

“Joel,” you stop him as he opens the passenger-side door to get out. He stills with one leg swung out the door.

“Yeah, darlin’?”

“Are you sure you don’t mind…being a secret? Don’t mind keeping me a secret?”

He looks at you like you have two heads.

He pulls his leg back into the car. Shuts the door and leans over the console again.

Taking your chin between his fingers, he forces your gaze. Makes sure you’re listening.

“I want you — doesn’t matter who knows or doesn’t know. Long as you’re mine.”

Your chest tightens, and your heart squeezes inside your ribcage.

“I’m yours?”

He smiles. Presses a chaste kiss between your eyes, on the tip of your nose, on your lips. The same way he did the other morning.

It all feels somehow sweeter, now.

“Yeah, angel. You’re mine. My girl.”

end notes: tysm for reading! please consider commenting and/or reblogging if you enjoyed! I've been toying with the idea of turning this into a series so lmk if that's something you'd be interested in hehe.

Also, I hopped on the bandwagon and made a sideblog for notifs! I'll be doing away with a taglist from here on out, so follow @joelscurlsupdates & turn on notifications if you wanna be notified when I post a new fic :-)

tag list: @janaispunk @amanitacowboy @fhatbhabie @frannyzooey @lola8888673

#joel x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #dbf!joel #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #tlou fic #the last of us fanfiction

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futureman · 5 months

Text

waiting to spill

pairing: mike schmidt x f!reader

summary: mike never thought your week-long trip home would lead to the discovery of a costly new craving

warnings: 18+ MDNI, established relationship, breeding kink, smut, desperate!mike, unprotected piv, creampie, riding, fingering, blue balls, mentions of pregnancy, cum play

word count: 3.9k

(based on this request)

Mike's praying the call goes through this time because if it doesn't, he might just lose his mind. You were supposed to land 20 minutes ago, but it's already half past 4 and your phone's still off.

Will it show how many missed calls you have? God, he hopes not. He's been redialing for the better part of an hour, hoping you landed early, but luck clearly isn't on his side. Every time it goes to voicemail, your voice taunts him. Just another reminder that you're not here—unreachable and untouchable.

Shitty fucking airline. He knew you should've taken an earlier flight, but he didn't want to be that guy. The one who tells you what to do and when, and makes decisions for his own benefit. He's a better guy than that, a better boyfriend than that, it's just—fuck, what is taking so long?

One more time. He'll try you one more time, and if it doesn't connect, he'll go sit on the couch and distract himself until you call him. He's already waited this long. He can suck it up a little longer. Probably.

He hits redial for the umpteenth time, his forehead thunking against the wall next to the landline, and then something miraculous happens. It rings.

Once, twice, and then you pick up. He doesn't wait for you to answer. Any patience he had left flew out the window hours ago and he doesn't care if you know it.

"Babe?"

You laugh softly on the other end, and it tugs at his heart...and his dick. Seatbelts click open in the background, and sounds of movement and chatter filter through the speaker.

"Hey, you. I actually just landed. I'll call you back once I get through customs, okay?" you reply, bright as ever.

It sets him off worse than he expected. You're so much more potent in real-time than on voicemail, and it's fucking with his sense of urgency. He doesn't want to rush you, but he needs you. So badly.

"W-wait. Can you come over? After you're done with the airport stuff, I mean," he manages to get out, interjecting cautiously before you can hang up.

"I was gonna stop home to drop off my bags and take a quick shower, but I can come over after that," you reply distractedly, likely dealing with overhead bins and other passengers trying to deplane.

He shakes his head, gripping the phone a little too tightly as he bites back a frustrated whine. That'll take too long. The airport's about an hour's ride from your apartment, and by the time you're done showering—no. No, just come to him. It's a shorter ride to his house, anyway.

"Just—you can do all of that here. Stay over and I'll drive you back to your place in the morning. Please?" he asks, desperation beginning to bleed into his voice.

It pulls your attention back to him almost immediately, and he hates how good that feels.

"Is everything okay? Did something happen?" you counter, misreading his plea as an emergency.

Your phone keeps shifting like it's tucked against your shoulder, and now it sounds like you're moving faster, hurrying like he wants you to, but for the wrong reasons.

"Everything's fine, I just need to see you," he says, willing you to understand. "Babe, I really need to see you."

He's too ashamed to spell it out. What would he even say? If he doesn't cum inside you soon, he thinks he might die? He's horny, not pathetic.

"Mike, that doesn't sound fine...," you sigh on the other end, your quickening footsteps audible through the receiver.

"Please."

You pause for a second, and his heart leaps into his throat. Don't say no. Please, don't say no.

"Gimme an hour, okay? I'll catch a cab to your place as soon as I can," you finally agree.

He breathes out a heavy sigh of relief, but it's louder than he realizes and you clock it on the spot.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, all good. I'm just glad you're back. Feels like it's been forever," he mumbles, somehow sated and yet anticipating your arrival more than ever.

He shifts anxiously from one foot to the other, wincing at the unexpected friction against the growing problem between his legs. The atmosphere around you changes and your responding laugh blends into the bustle of casual conversations and overhead announcements in your terminal.

"Can't survive one week without me, huh? I guess I'm bringing you and Abby along next time I visit my parents," you joke, but it's getting harder to make out what you're saying. "Look, I'm almost at customs. I'll see you soon, I promise."

The call ends, and he's left with the loneliness of a dial tone and an empty house. He hangs up and plops down on the couch, clutching the TV remote like a lifeline while he desperately tries to ignore the painful tent in his boxers.

An hour. He can handle one more hour.

He can't handle one more hour. It's been 45 minutes and he feels like he's about to burst. The worst part? It's his own damn fault.

He's the asshole who made the conscious decision not to jerk off the entire time you were gone, but he can't bring himself to regret it. He had his reasons. In about 15 minutes, it'll all be worth it.

Maybe less.

There's a knock at the door, and he's up and off the couch so fast, he's surprised he doesn't have whiplash. He wrenches it open to find you on the other side, a little stunned by the abrupt greeting, but worth every second of blue balls he put himself through.

"Hey," he breathes out, winded by his mad dash and the relief of you finally being here.

"Hey, yourself," you smile wryly. Your eyes drop to where he's not even remotely trying to hide his raging boner. "Ah-ha, so that's—"

But that's all you manage to say before he drags you into the house and slams your back against the door, shutting out your luggage and the cab driver still idling in the driveway. His lips crash into yours and you taste so good, it's dizzying.

Remnants of Sprite and spearmint gum linger on your tongue as it meets his, and he groans, wondering how he went an entire week without this. All that time, deprived of your addictive touch and perfect tits while he tortured himself, waiting for you to come back to him.

He can't decide where to put his hands first, roaming and squeezing from your waist, up your shirt—which he's just realizing is his—to splay across your ribcage. Pressing you harder into the door, he separates from your lips to mouth at the underside of your jaw, mumbling his appreciation between each harsh bruise he sucks into your skin.

"Fuck, I missed you," he pants, shamelessly grinding into your hip for relief. He wants you to feel how hard you're making him, so you'll understand all those missed calls.

"Yeah? I can tell," you laugh breathily, running your hands up his chest, pushing his shirt up as you go.

Your thumbs brush against his bare skin, sending a heady jolt straight to his cock, and suddenly none of this is moving fast enough. His hands drop to your ass, roughly tugging your hips into his, and you gasp in unison at the friction. Together, you fall into a frantic rhythm, rutting into each other like a pair of horny teenagers.

"Shit, Mike...," you moan his name, and he feels like he's dreaming. He has to be because nothing else in his waking world has ever felt this good.

Contrary to the rest of his body, he kisses you again slowly, savoring every noise he's coaxing from you and devouring them like a man starved. Your fingers thread through his hair, pulling him closer, and he swears he's never letting you leave this house again.

If by some miracle he does, he's going to make sure you're pumped so full of him, you'll be leaking him the entire time you're gone, unable to think about anything else. And when you come back, he'll do it all over again.

Damnit, he needs you in his bed, now.

He backs away from the door with you still in his arms, leading you further into the house down a path you know by heart. Briefly, he separates from your lips to lift your shirt up and over your head, then discards his own before tugging down the cups of your bra to latch onto a nipple.

You hiss at the contact, trembling as he teases it with his teeth, and immediately reach behind you to unclasp the offending piece of fabric. It drops soundlessly to the floor along with your jeans, underwear, and finally his boxers. Nipping sharply at the sensitive skin one last time, he pulls away to admire you, trailing his fingers down your arms until your hands are in his.

You're fucking beautiful. Your lips are kiss-swollen and glossy, begging to be kissed again, and your thighs are...wet, fucking hell. Fuck, he missed you. His mouth starts to water at the thought of licking into you, fucking you with his tongue while your thighs quake on either side of his head, but the painful throbbing between his legs is starting to overwhelm him.

He's positive, now, that if he's not inside you soon, he'll actually die. He's not just horny, anymore. It's so far beyond that.

Four more agonizing steps backward and he's finally passing the threshold into his room, so close to being on his back with you bouncing on top of him—except he doesn't make it that far.

The door shuts behind you, and then you're on your knees, wrapping those perfect fingers around his dick and guiding him between your lips. He panics. There's no way he's going to last if you try to blow him right now.

Tenderly, you lick a stray bead of precum off the tip, and his balls immediately draw up so tight, he has to slide your hand down to the base and squeeze to keep from cumming on the spot. He shakes his head, his eyebrows furrowing as he inhales sharply through his nose.

"Babe, I can't...," he grits out, struggling to find the words to explain himself. "I'll cum too fast, you can't."

You grin, leaning forward to press your lips against his white-knuckled fist.

"That's sort of the whole point, isn't it?" you tease, trailing back to his cock, seconds away from giving him the most intense orgasm of his life.

"I need to fuck you," he blurts out. It's short and to the point, but there's no use in pretending he doesn't. At this point, he'll be lucky if he doesn't explode the second he's inside you. "I need to fuck you so bad right now, I feel like I'm going crazy."

You pause to look up at him, your eyes roving over his face, lingering on his angrily ticking jaw. You get it, now.

"Hey, it's okay—you're okay," you murmur, leaning forward to kiss away another drop of precum. He chokes back a groan and reflexively jerks away, and you take the hint to release your grip. "Okay, fuck me. Show me how much you missed me."

But you don't have any idea what you're asking for, do you? He missed you so much. There's so much catching up to do, and he has so little patience left.

He doesn't waste any more time. With every ounce of self-control he's got left, he drags you to your feet and towards the bed, trying his best not to manhandle you up the mattress and onto his lap. He fails epically. The second he's flat on his back with you grinding down on him, his patience becomes a thing of the past.

"You ready for me? Because I'm not gonna be able to stop, and I need you to feel good," he's starting to babble, but he has a feeling nothing he says from now on will make any sense, and he needs you to want it as much as he does.

His hands slide up your thighs to your waist, and when he tugs you closer to notch at your entrance, he can feel you clenching wetly around him.

"Shit—," he breathes out, his biceps tensing as he lifts you and lines himself up. He pushes in just enough for you to stretch around the tip, and you steady yourself on his chest, your palms searingly hot on his skin as you squeeze him a little harder.

"Let me make you feel good," he says again, even though you're already letting him, already yielding to his steady push and pull. Every inch he gives you feels like taking a shot of tequila, and it's making his head spin. If he could hear himself anymore, he'd realize he sounds wasted.

"Let me fill you up, please," he begs, rolling his hips up to lengthen his thrusts. They’re so much easier now that you’re dribbling down him—so much wetter—but you're so damn tight, he has to force himself to look away from where you're joined and gripping the hell out of him. "You know, I-I waited for you—waited to cum, I didn't cum at all."

"Mike...fuck. That's good. That's so good, baby," you tell him shakily. "Give it to me. Nice and deep, you deserve it."

He keens at the praise—he couldn't have stopped himself if he'd tried—and your nails bite into his skin in response, nose scrunching adorably as you gush around him. He knew you'd like that. He knew you'd want it.

Look at his girl, so pretty on top of him, just waiting for him to bust inside you. Fleetingly, he wonders if you're still on birth control. Possessively, he doesn't care. Rationally, he knows he can't afford to knock you up, but shit—right now, he really fucking wants to. He imagines you in the same position you're in, horny and round with his baby, and suddenly he's never wanted anything so badly in his life.

He doesn't stop to think about whether or not he should. He doesn't stop at all, just like he warned you, not even when he's buried to the hilt and you're both struggling to adjust.

He just buries himself in you again and again and again until the sound of your skin colliding with his becomes a wet thock-thock-thock that bounces off the walls of his bedroom. The springs beneath him squeak dangerously as he pushes his bedframe to its absolute limits, but he can’t hear any of that, either.

His senses are in overdrive, and all he can focus on is how you feel around him. And he’s not nearly as deep as he needs to be. Rougher than he means to, he grabs your ass with both hands and starts to force you up and down his cock, gripping hard enough to bruise. He’ll hate how much he likes the idea of that later.

"S-so fucking pretty...gonna make me cum so hard. So much. Need you to take all of it," he pants with the exertion of lifting and dropping your full weight onto himself.

He can feel himself slamming into your cervix and desperately tries to think about anything else but emptying right into it, but the sight of you taking him like you were made for it makes it ten times worse.

Just looking at you makes him want to cum—your tits bouncing as you ride him, your pussy creaming down his cock and balls, and seeping into his sheets. Those pouty lips of yours moaning around pleas of harder and right there and don't stop, I'm cumming.

"Baby...babe—," your shattered voice cuts through the fog, and then he feels it. "M'cumming. I'm...Mike, keep going there, there. Don't stop, please don't stop."

Fucking hell, you're really cumming. Tight and wet, and clamping down on him like a vice. Somehow, he always forgets it's like this with you. That you cum this hard for him, that he's able to make you cum this hard for him. For a second, he feels overwhelmingly grateful. Then, he's planting his feet on the bed and fucking you so hard, you stop moaning and start screaming.

It's there. It's right there, so close he can feel it building everywhere. Sweat trickles down his temples, matting his curls to his forehead, and you brush them away, one hand braced on the mattress next to his head and the other buried in his hair as you ride out your high.

His balls draw up so tight, it's painful, and he thinks he might start yelling too, but he's too focused on the chase. He's too busy watching, dumbfounded by the perfect body coming apart on top of him.

The girl he waited for.

He tries to tell you. He tries to open his mouth and tell you that you’re everything he thought he’d never have, and that he wants to keep you forever. That he wants to be part of you, that being inside you is one of the rare places he’s ever felt wanted. But that’s not what comes out.

He’s too far gone now, and all he can manage is an incomprehensible stream of moans and sighs as he forces you flush against his pelvis, grinding into you as deep as he can reach. His eyes struggle not to close, nearly crossing as that familiar heat permeates his limbs and pools at the base of his cock. But it’s so much more intense than he can ever remember it being.

He lifts his gaze to your lips to find them moving, repeatedly forming a single word he can barely make out. But by the time he figures it out, he’s already giving you what you asked for.

Please. You’re saying please. He repeats it back, begging you to take it, thanking you for letting him have this.

His orgasm rocks him. As it peaks, he feels numb like he’s suspended in time, and then it slams into him so hard, he folds in on himself. He buries his face in your tits, his breath hitching sharply in time with the visible throbbing of his cock, and he’s immediately flooded with relief. But it won’t fucking stop. It lasts so much longer than either of you expect it to, pulse after endless pulse, and he holds you in place through it all.

When it finally subsides and sensitivity sets in, your nails scratching lightly across his back are what bring him back to the present. He lifts his head from where it's still pillowed on your tits, and you lean down to kiss his forehead.

Maybe he’s imagining it, or maybe he’s just been dreaming this entire time, but he swears you’re glowing. The final rays of late summer sun illuminate your dewy skin and soft curves, and as you move lower to kiss his lips, he unconsciously rests a hand over your stomach. It feels right—but only briefly. His head starts to clear the longer he licks into your mouth, and when you part, reality finally hits.

"Shit, I think I just got you pregnant," he breathes out, sliding his hand off your stomach to your waist before collapsing onto the mattress. "Shit."

He looks up at you in concern, his mind racing a mile a minute. What did he just do? He can’t—you can't get pregnant. Not with Abby, and your jobs, and his shitty finances. It just isn't an option.

And yet you’re still perched on top of him, snug around his softening dick, and he can’t bring himself to pull out. You don’t even seem remotely worried.

You're actually smiling. No, you're laughing, and he's still panicking and confused as hell. It gets infinitely worse when you accidentally push him out and his gut reaction is to plug you back up with his fingers, keeping his release from leaking out. This is so fucked up. He’s so fucked up.

"I mean—were you trying to?" you ask, raising an eyebrow. "Kinda seems like it."

Your eyes drop between your legs to where his hand is cupping your heat, irrefutable proof that you’re not wrong. So, why doesn’t that bother you?

"Babe, breathe," you smile softly, brushing a few stray hairs from his face. "I'm like, 98.8 percent positive you can't knock me up. Give or take, but we can check the box if it'll make you feel better."

It actually might, but the last thing he's going to do is admit it. He can't believe he didn't double-check something like that—but then again, he feels like he's been in a fugue state for hours, if not the entire week you were gone.

"You're still on birth control?" he asks cautiously, almost afraid to get his hopes up. He takes a deep breath like you told him to and it helps ease some of his lingering panic. Not all of it, but at least he's starting to think rationally and not with his dick.

"Mike. There isn't a single condom in this entire house. Yes, I'm on birth control," you laugh again, and even just the sound of it is soothing. It helps, too.

"And it definitely works? Because that was...a lot," he mumbles. He already knows he sounds like a total idiot, but he has to be sure. There's still a week's worth of his release plugged up inside you, and as much as it turns him on, he needs to know if he has to run out to the pharmacy or if he's free to do it again. And again.

"Have you ever fucked me with a condom on?" you counter. He scoffs at the question, and you clench around his fingers in retaliation.

"Of course, I have. Maybe not in a while, but early on, for sure," he replies confidently, even though he's not confident in his answer at all. Sure, he can't give you a specific example, but that doesn't mean it never happened.

"You literally came inside me the day we met," you deadpan.

His cock stirs at the memory, hardening distractingly against your inner thigh. That, he definitely remembers. He's pretty sure that's the night he fell in love with you, but he's hard-pressed to admit that, either.

"There's no way."

"And every time since then," you continue, looking way too amused at his misfortune. Can't get anything past you, can he?

Okay, so maybe it wasn't just your trip that triggered what happened tonight. Maybe it's always been a thing. His thing. You just look so goddamn good—filled with it, covered in it. Shit, he really shouldn't be hard already.

"Babe, come on. I do...it other places, too,” he reasons, sliding his hand up to tweak a nipple. But it becomes a moot point the second your breath hitches. So much for rational thinking. “I just—"

"You just really like cumming inside me," you finish for him, taking his cock in your hand and stroking him until he's as desperate as he was earlier.

He pulls his fingers free from your pussy and tries not to lament the immediate rush of cum that leaks out. It's okay. He's got plenty more to give you.

"Yeah, I really do."

thanks for reading!

(and so much love to @joelsgreys, @tinycozycomfort & @psychedelic-ink for your help & support, and for listening to me go on and on about this man <3)

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt #fnaf imagine #fnaf smut #fnaf movie #fnaf #five nights at freddy's

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inu-mxki · 8 months

Text

roronoa zoro x fem!reader / 18+ / praise + petnames

“c’mon, angel,” zoro mumbles against your collarbone, pulling the fabric of his shirt you’re wearing just enough to expose it, “jus’ a little somethin’. missed you like crazy.”

you’d finally earned a night off from lookout. getting some rest was the only thing on your agenda. tucking yourself into his side as he mindlessly drew circles against your hip sounded like heaven right now, but zoro had missed his little lady. he’d missed pressing your back to his chest, nuzzling his face into the nape of your neck as you slumbered beside him. god, if the rest of the crew knew what a fool he was for you, they’d never let him live it down.

but the one thing zoro missed the most, especially as the nights went on, was pressing his tongue against your folds, kitten licking soft, gentle circles against your sensitive bud until you’re bucking your hips to feel more friction. the thought makes his mind hazy. after all, zoro lived to devour you. he loved it just as much as receiving, if not more. your pleasure was his pleasure, tenfold, and right now all he wanted was to reward his hard working lady.

“‘ro, i’m so tired,” you mutter sleepily, trying to ignore the burning sensation below your abdomen, “i don’t think i have the energy.”

“i can wait baby,” he mumbles between kisses, scattering them across your neck, under your ear, down to your shoulder, “jus’ want to taste you, miss you so much. let me make you feel good, angel.”

and you knew he would. he was masterful. he took great care and pride in making you fall apart for him. it was enough to just see you like that. he can wait. your pleasure pretty much gets him off anyway.

“but ‘ro,” you say, opening your heavy, pretty eyes, “i can’t just let you do that.”

fucking hell. you’ll be the death of him. not this pirate life of his, you, and those big doe eyes looking at him with such adoration. looking at him like you want to please him, but your tired bones are just too much. selfless, that’s what you are. but zoro was a patient man when it came it you. he’d wait eons to have your pretty little mouth wrapped around him. he was happy to just serve you right now. his angel. his baby doll. his lifeline.

“don’t worry ‘bout me, baby girl,” he whispers, capturing your lips in a hot kiss as you whimper into his mouth lightly. you needed it. he knew that, and he was going to give it to you, “tomorrow, i’ll fuck you into this mattress, but right now, all i want is to make a mess of you. can i do that, pretty girl? can i make my angel come on my tongue?”

he pressed two fingers against your clothed core. you bucked your hips involuntarily, letting out a strangled sort of moan. you could feel the grin against your mouth, “is that a yes doll?” he asks gently, adding just a little more pressure to see you squirm, “need your words angel. tell me what you want.”

his eye was onyx. he’d pretty much caged you against the bed and his body, peppering kisses against your mouth, patiently waiting for your response. he’d respect it either way.

“p-please,” you strain against his lips, and he grips the sheet beneath you to steady himself, “make me feel good, ‘ro.”

“no need to be all polite about it, angel,” he worked his way down to your chest, leaving hot, wet kisses against your exposed skin, gently pushing up your shirt and hooking his fingers in your underwear, “all you gotta do is gimme a yes.”

“yes,” you breathe out, and he almost growls against your hip bone, sucking at the flesh there, “yes, yes.”

“i fucking love you,” he slurs, pulling down your underwear and immediately pushing your legs up and placing a open mouthed kiss to your bud, “my baby angel.”

“I love you,” you choke out, gripping onto the sheet. he places a few more sloppy kisses, before moving to kiss your inner thigh.

“jus’ relax, angel,” he rasps, looking up at you through a hooded eye, “gonna make you feel good, promise.”

i do not own one piece or anything associated with it

#zoro smut #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #zoro #zoro x female reader #zoro x y/n #zoro x you #one piece smut #one piece zoro #op zoro #one piece x reader #op smut #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #zoro fluff #pirate hunter zoro #inu-mxki18+

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se4son-of-the-witch · 5 months

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tease - matt sturniolo

a/n: i wrote this so long ago….first time writing some horny shit like this so i apologize if it’s not good. anyway matt driving makes me wanna 😝🤗😈🥰

matt x fem reader !

Usually, you had no problem going on a late-night drive with Matt, but tonight something was different. You could not keep your eyes off of him. The way his hands gripped the wheel, the way he bit his lip in concentration just made you feral. It didn't help that his hand was resting on your thigh.

Matt noticed you squirm in your seat, "you alright?" he asked, not taking his eyes off the road.

You averted your gaze away from him and looked out the window. "I’m fine, why?" you blurted.

"I just felt you squirm, and I wanted to make sure you're alright," he said, turning to look at you. You allowed your eyes to meet his. Butterflies erupted in your stomach as he smiled at you. Another squeeze on your thigh made you leave the trance he had you in.

As his eyes made their way back to the road, yours made their way down to your leg. The way his fingers looked gripping your leg made you melt. Just then, he began to move his fingers up and down, tracing random shapes.

Goosebumps arose as he moved his fingers. A snicker brought you out of your thoughts. "What?"

"I gave you goosebumps," he said with a shit-eating grin. You turned to look at him. He had a smug look on his face, which made you blush. "Don’t be embarrassed, baby."

"Trust me, I’m far from embarrassed."

"Oh, tell me how you really feel then." This made your breath get caught in your throat. He always knew what to say to make you flustered.

"Are you sure you wanna know?" you asked, slightly teasing.

"Gimme every detail."

You took a deep breath before you spoke. "Well, it's taking every bone in my body to not pounce on you right now." His head whipped around so fast, not even giving you the chance to take a breath.

"Oh yeah?"

His tone alone made you wanna drop to your knees. "Yeah. You just look so good tonight. Watching you all concentrated makes me wanna rip my clothes off."

You could see a smirk starting to form on his face. "There’s nothing wrong with that, baby." He turned to look at you. You met his gaze, which was full of lust. Your cheeks immediately heated up, a blush spreading furiously across your face.

To make things worse, you felt Matt’s fingers make their way up your thigh. They stopped right where your shorts were cut off. He squeezed your leg, hard, sure to leave a bruise. He then rubbed back and forth, stopping at your inner thigh. This caused you to grip the seat, trying to keep your composure.

He didn't move his hand for a few minutes, letting you cool down. But, after a little while, his hands found their way down your thigh. He used his hand to pry your legs open. The exposure sent shivers down your spine.

His hands trailed between your thighs, right where you needed him most. He slowly rubbed you over your shorts, causing you to gasp. You weren't expecting him to do that. His lips curled into a smirk, satisfied with the reaction he was getting.

Feeling bold, he moved up to the top of your shorts. His fingers found their way down, stopping at your core. You let out a whine as his fingers grazed past your clit. His fingers traced up and down your folds, teasing you.

He eventually found his way inside, plunging a finger into you. This caused you to bite your lip, hard. "I wanna hear you, baby. Don’t hide from me," he lowly said. He began to make a curling motion with his finger, causing you to let out a low moan. "There she is."

As Matt continued to finger you, you felt a knot forming in your stomach. A loud gasp escaped your lips as he pressed his thumb onto your clit. He knew that would get you. You began to squirm in your seat, letting out moans as he continued to work his fingers.

"Matt," you whined, gripping onto his arm. He looked over at you, licking his teeth. "Please," you pleaded.

"Please what?"

"Don’t stop," you breathed out. He added another finger, which completely sent you over the edge. As his fingers pumped in and out, you felt yourself getting close. "Fuck, I’m so close."

His fingers kept plunging into you, making the most lewd noises come out of you. If he said he wasn't hard he would be lying. Watching his girlfriend squirm in her seat was enough to make him cum in his pants.

Just as you were about to cum, Matt pulled his fingers out of you. A whine escaped your lips at the loss of contact. "Matt," you breathed out. He wore a grin on his face. "Why’d you stop, I was so close."

"You have to wait until we get home," he smirked.

So there you sat, desperate for Matt to touch you. Writhing in your seat, squeezing your thighs together, trying to find some sort of relief for the ache between your thighs.

#matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut

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estrellami-1 · 1 year

Text

Steve felt like his heart was about to beat out of his chest. The TV at Family Video was turned on to the news station (the tiebreaker when he and Robin couldn’t agree), and a reporter was saying something about a gruesome murder, limbs snapped, teenage boy suspect, and it all swirled and came together until Steve saw the trailer in the background.

Oxygen evaded him. He gasped, trying to remember how to breathe, how to stay grounded, because freaking out wasn’t going to help anything right now-

“Steve!” The front door banged open and Dustin ran in. “How many phones do you have?”

Steve blinked at Dustin. Managed a breath, another one. His brain still felt like it was swimming through molasses. “Why?”

Dustin rolled his eyes like it should’ve been obvious and gestured to the TV. “I’m gonna call Eddie. And, like, everyone. You know what situation this is, right? And that’s Eddie’s trailer. And he doesn’t know anything about this.”

“I know,” Steve murmured, thinking. “Okay, let’s go.” He spared a glance Robin’s direction. She nodded.

Dustin frowned. “Go where?”

“To go find Eddie. I know where he’ll be.”

“How? Steve? Steve, you don’t even know him. Steve?”

Steve ignored the questions. “Get buckled. You got your radio?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Good, keep it on you.” Still ignoring all of Dustin’s questions, he peeled out of the parking lot, making his way to the place he and Eddie had promised each other they’d go if shit hit the fan.

He pulled up to the shed and gestured for Dustin to follow as he cautiously walked inside.

“Eddie?” Dustin asked. “Eddie, it’s Dustin, are you here?”

Steve should’ve said something, should’ve let Eddie hear his voice, but it’s too late because he touched the tarp Eddie’s under and suddenly his back was against the wall, a broken beer bottle against his neck. “Eddie,” he murmured calmly, even as his pulse skyrocketed. He vaguely heard Dustin saying something about his mother. “Eddie, put down the bottle, please. It’s okay. It’s just me and Dustin. No one followed us here. I know what you saw, I know what happened. I know you didn’t kill Chrissy, Eddie. I know you’re scared and don’t know what’s going on, but we’re gonna help you, okay? You’re not alone.”

Eddie dropped the bottle with a slight gasp, eyes widening as he realized who he’s looking at. “Shit,” he whispered, gently placing his hands on Steve’s shoulders. They were shaking. “Steve. Did I hurt you?”

“I’m fine,” he promised, his own hands finding Eddie’s waist. “And you? Are you okay?”

“Christ, Steve, I dunno.” He let out a weak laugh and dropped his head to Steve’s shoulder. “She just… she was sayin’ she thought she was crazy, paranoid, and then she’s in the air, and the sound, Steve, Jesus fuck, I’m never gonna forget it as long as I live, and then she- she’s dead, and-”

“I know,” Steve promised quietly, pulling him into a hug. “I know. It’ll be okay. C’mon, my house is safe. We can go there, lay low. Want me to get Wayne too? The trailer’s a crime scene right now, he’s gotta go somewhere else anyways.”

“Yeah. Please. Just… gimme a minute.”

“I’ll give you all the minutes,” Steve promised nonsensically. “We’ll get everyone together, figure out how to beat it. We’ve done it before.”

“Um,” Dustin said, “what the fuck?”

“Watch it,” Steve warned, tracing Eddie’s spine with his palm. “Did you really think the former king of Hawkins High didn’t buy from the best dealer in town?”

Dustin stared at him, disbelieving. “You’ve never gotten high in your life. I don’t think you’ve ever relaxed in your life.”

Eddie murmured something in Steve’s ear that caused him to roll his eyes and pinch Eddie’s side, smiling when he twitched. “You shush,” he admonished before turning back to Dustin. “I have gotten high. I stopped when I started watching you and the rest of the ankle-biters.”

Dustin rolled his eyes. “Okay, so explain this. Explain how cuddling your drug dealer is normal behavior.”

Steve tapped Eddie’s back, who tilted his head up again to whisper into Steve’s ear. “You sure?” Steve asked, and Eddie nodded.

“‘S fine.”

“M’kay. If you say so.” He stroked a hand down Eddie’s back again before returning his attention to Dustin. “Eddie’s not just my drug dealer. He’s my boyfriend.”

Dustin blinked. “You’re not gay.”

“Nope. It’s called bisexual. ‘S when you like both guys and girls.”

Dustin narrowed his eyes. “But… Robin?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Platonic, like I’ve told you a million times before, you twerp.”

Dustin shook his head. “Wait. You and Eddie?”

“Christ, I’d have better luck talking to a brick at this point. Yes, me and Eddie. Is that gonna be a problem for you?”

“Well, yeah,” Dustin said, like it was obvious, unaware of the way Steve and Eddie and both stiffened at his words. “You’re, like, my brothers or some shit. I don’t want my brothers dating each other. Besides, you both could do so much better.”

Eddie snorted and looked up at Dustin. “Not sure that’s how that works, bud.”

“Sure it is,” Dustin shrugged.

Steve rolled his eyes. “Not the point,” he reminded them both. “Eds, c’mon, let’s get you to my house. Dustin, can you walkie everyone? Tell them to meet us there?”

Dustin shook his head, but brought the walkie up to his mouth anyways. “Uh… guys? We’re meeting at Steve’s house ASAP. Over.”

“That’s not proper form, dipshit. Over.”

“Shut the fuck up, how about that? Over.”

“Fucking hell,” Steve murmured, grabbing the walkie from Dustin. “Listen up, twerps, my house, twenty minutes, move it. Over and out.”

Eddie began to grin at Steve. “‘S kinda hot, Stevie.”

“Oh, god,” Dustin said, screwing up his face. “No. Nope. We’re not going there. Just… let’s go. Before I try to bleach my brain.”

Steve chuckled, smacking a kiss to Eddie’s cheek and ruffling Dustin’s hair through his hat. “Glad you’re safe, Eds. Let’s go.”

#throwing my hat in the ring for the #‘Steve and Eddie were together before everything went down’ trope #is the phrase ‘throwing my hat in the ring’#or does that mean giving up #I can’t remember #anyways #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #dustin henderson #use your imagination for the other Party member on the walkie #I hope someone likes this. ik it’s overdone but #I had fun #unofficial name is ‘cuddle your drug dealer’#because I am the funniest person ik sometimes #or maybe just the punniest #starambles

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monzabee · 1 year

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the first monday in may – dr3

masterlist || part 1 ||

Summary: The one where you and Daniel make your first outing as a couple at this year's Met Gala.

Pairing: daniel ricciardo x actress!reader

Word Count: 4288

Warnings: cursing, mentions of anxiety and medication, apart from that none?? fluffity fluff fluff

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i wrote this on a train and a plane, so if you see any grammar issues or typos or a sentence which doesn’t make any sense, no you didn’t. after mr daniel blessing us with his met look, i just knew i had to write something for it, so i really hope you guys enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it! please know that feedback is always appreciated and my inbox is always open for you guys!! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

A loud groan leaves your lips at the sound of the alarm, your hand reaching out to get a hold of your phone, but accidentally hitting something someone else. Daniel groans as you repeatedly try to hit the snooze button on his chest, and he tries to stop you by grabbing your wrist which is moving too quickly for his morning reflexes.

“Sweetheart– ow– Y/N,” he lets out a frustrated groan as he tries to turn away from you, “please stop hitting me.”

Thankfully for him, you choose to listen to his request as you roll away from him in an attempt to cover your ears with your pillow. “Make it stop, Danny.”

“Okay, just– gimme a second.” His voice is still thick from sleep, coming off more as a mumble than anything else, and his moves are sluggish as he reaches over you to turn off the alarm you’ve set the night before. “Here, done,” he breathes out as he lets himself fall back to his side of the bed, sideways, and breathy from moving quickly while still half-asleep. “Sweetheart, take your head out of there, you’re going to suffocate yourself.” Daniel mumbles, trying to coax you with this fingers leaving feathery touches on your arm and his lips leaving small kisses on the exposed skin of your neck. A lazy grin forms on his lips as you mumble something incoherent underneath your pillow, “I can’t understand you; you know.”

Your moves are almost jerky as you lift your head up and turn your body backwards to shoot him a sleepy glare, “I don’t want to wake up, let me sleep.” You go back to hugging your pillow as you close your eyes, your whiny voice making Daniel chuckle. “Stop laughing at me!”

“I can’t help it, you’re so grumpy in the mornings.” He continues to chuckle and proceed to sit up on the bed with his back against the headboard. “Pass me the phone?”

“You’re evil,” you mumble, reaching to the bedside table to retrieve his phone and turn towards him to hand it, “what time is it anyway?”

Daniel turns the phone on, his eyes burning due to the brightness of the screen as he recites, “6.30.”

“What kind of a person, in their right mind, would want to wake up in this damn hour?” You groan, hand reaching out to touch him in any way possible.

“You said you wanted to work out before all the commotion, sweetheart.”

You can hear his smile through his voice, which makes you finally open your eyes in irritation – though all your grumpiness disappears when your eyes level with his thigh. Your fingers move without their own volition as they start tracing through the helmet design of his tattoo, “Don’t listen to me, I’m crazy.”

“I thought I was the crazy one,” he reminds you, moving his eyes from the screen of his phone and flexing the muscles on his upper thigh to draw out an appreciative sigh from you, “eyes up here, Y/LN.”

You push your bottom lip out in a pout as you meet his eyes. “You know how it makes me feel like when you call me by my last name.”

“Your libido honestly concerns me.” He shakes his head, satisfied when he sees a small smile snaking its way on your lips, his voice is warm as he says, “Good morning, sweetheart.”

Pressing a soft kiss to the skin of his upper thigh, which is exposed thanks to his habit of sleeping without pants. You keep your eyes on his as you straighten up and press another kiss to his lips, resting your chin against his shoulder afterwards. “Good morning to you too, honey.”

He smiles, leaning down to give you a full bodied kiss which leaves you yearning for more; you seek him out as you follow his retreating form, which makes him smile wider as he gives into your wish. The kiss you share might be sweet starting out, but he knows better than to let you keep on going when you nip at his bottom lip. So, being the gentleman he is, he pulls back and rests his forehead against yours as he mumbles, “I take it back, you are very sweet in the mornings.”

The giggle he hears back from you is enough for him to know that this is the window he needs to take advantage of to get you out of bed, knowing that there is absolutely no way you’ll actually work out this morning. He successfully coxes you out of bed with promises of breakfast and morning coffee, directing you to the en-suite attached to your bedroom to help you with your morning routine. He holds your hair as you brush your teeth when it makes you frustrated because of the way it keeps getting in front of your face, and he watches you as you wash and apply numerous products on your face; moisturiser, eye cream, sun screen, and even stays still as you apply some on his face because “You should be treating yourself, especially today, Danny.” You hug him from behind and rest your face against his back as he brushes his own teeth, rambling about the day ahead of both of you. He makes sure to put on sweatpants and a t-shirt before going downstairs with you into the kitchen to make you breakfast and coffee as he promised, not in that order. You sit on the counter next to his work station as sip on your coffee and watch him prepare breakfast; he sings an old eighties song in an awfully off pitch, which makes you smile into the cup and let him steal some of the coffee from it. The two of you have your breakfast against the view of New York City, which is starting to become more and more alive as the time goes on.

“Are you excited for today?” He asks you, leaning against the back of the couch – the two of you are seated on the floor behind it to watch the city scape.

“Honestly?” You take a pause to try to choose the right words. “The only reason I’m remotely excited about it is because I know you’re going to be there. Are you excited?” You nudge him with your shoulder as you give him a playful grin. “The Daniel Ricciardo is making his Met Gala debut; how does it feel to be a rookie again?”

“Ha-fucking-ha,” he mockingly laughs, rolling his eyes at the sound of your laugh getting louder with a small smile forming on his lips, “I am excited, and I think we’re both going to have a lovely night.”

Your laughter continues as you poke him on his cheek repeatedly, making him join you as he starts laughing. “Look at you, being all optimistic and stuff.”

He pulls you over his lap, which ends you half-way straddling his thighs as you rest your hands on his shirt clad chest. “I’m the personification of sunshine, and don’t you ever forget it.”

The rest of the morning is spent with hushed whispers shared between you two, lazily cleaning up the kitchen to the sounds of an old record you found in your parents’ attic and took it back with you to your apartment in New York. Daniel still tries to keep up with the lyrics of the sound in his awfully off-pitched voice, claiming that he is not hearing what you claim would make “the Phantom of the Opera cry.” It’s an awfully domestic scene, a routine the two of you have been perfecting for a while since meeting each other, but it’s interrupted when the two of you hear the front door open, followed by a; “You better be awake and ready to go because I am not dealing with traffic today.”

You smile knowingly at Daniel before calling out, “In the kitchen!”

“Hi, Rosa, you want some coffee?” Daniel asks the woman, who enters into the kitchen with an angry look on her face. He gives you a peck on your forehead and moves towards the coffee machine without waiting for her answer, since he anticipates it’s going to be affirmative.

“Oh, he’s good.” Rosa mumbles, pointing to the man who hands her the cup.

The two of you share another laugh as Daniel returns to his position behind you, wrapping his arms around you. “Are you okay, Rosa?” You ask her as you try to get some of the pastries you had earlier ready for her.

“People are particularly stupid this morning, it must be in the air.” Your assistant mutters as she digs into the croissant, sighing as she takes her first bite. “You are an angel; they should consider you for the Nobel prize at some point in the future.”

“The least I can do is feed you,” you shrug, jumping slightly when Daniel squeezes your waist ever so slightly as a reminder to take the compliment – you turn to give him a look which makes it very clear for him to see you rolling your eyes. “How many photographers are there downstairs?”

“I love it when she refers to them as photographers, don’t you?” Rosa asks Daniel, and then turns her attention to you to answer your question, “A lot, which is why I need you to go get dressed so we can be early for your last fitting.”

You begrudgingly leave Daniel’s arms as you make your way towards the stairs and warning the two, “Do not gossip about me when I’m gone.”

“Wouldn’t dare dream of it, sweetheart.” Daniel nods with fake seriousness, laughing as you roll your eyes at him and poke your tongue before running up the stairs to get ready.

After managing to get ready in record time and making sure you have all the necessities for the day, you go back downstairs to say goodbye to your boyfriend for the day. There is a heavy look in his eyes as he cups your cheeks between his hands and tilts your head back to take a good look in your eyes.

“Don’t forget to call me if you’re feeling overwhelmed, okay?” Daniel asks, which comes off more as an assurance rather than a question. “Do you have everything you need?”

“I do, Danny.” You assure him, hands gripping the front of his shirt. “I’ll see you at the carpet, right?”

“Yeah,” his whisper hitting your lips as he repeats, “I’ll see you at the carpet.” After he gives you a final sweet kiss on the lips, which is interrupted by Rosa screaming for you to be quick, there is a dopey grin on his lips as he watches you walk away. “Who are you going to be wearing, again?” He asks, leaning against the counter.

You roll your eyes at his attempt to learn more about your dress – both of you having agreed not to show each other what you’re going to be dressed in just to enjoy the mystery of it all, you only know the designers both of you are going to be dressed in. “I’ll be the one in Chanel!” You call out to him as you walk out the door.

It’s not that you hate getting ready, not at all. In fact, you love sitting in a chair for three consecutive hours without having to make any moves as the light is shining in your eye. You’re glad to endure the entire process with your team, though, who manage to make the time go faster by continuously talking to you and helping you take your mind off of the anxiety starting to form at the back of your mind. Not only do you have to get ready for one of the most publicly scrutinised events of the year, you’re going to be wearing a dress which you cannot, under any circumstances, spill something on or harm in any way – and the top it all off, your entire process of getting ready is being filmed for one of the most watched YouTube channels of the most famous fashion magazine. So yes, the anxiety you’re starting to feel is not displaced at all.

The makeup-hair-nail extravaganza is interrupted by a delivery, which Rosa doesn’t allow you to go receive at the door in your robe, so while she handles the delivery, you’re stuck with three pairs of curious eyes.

“I wonder who it could be from.” Rosa smiles covertly as she hands you the flowers and the small package that is wrapped up in a bag.

You try to appear cool in front of everyone – but fail miserably as you mumble, “I wouldn’t know, I haven’t read the card yet.” After placing the vase full of colourful flowers onto the table, you spot a card attached which you take off and hold it close to your chest in a playful manner as you read it out loud, “‘You’re my celebrity girl crush’”.

“Is that supposed to be an inside joke?” Mark whispers loudly to Rosa who’s standing next to him as he peruses his make-up bag to find the right colour for your blush.

“Oh who cares?” Your hair artist, Miranda, sighs behind you. “He sent her flowers! Open the box, open the box.”

You roll your eyes at their antics as you open the small box that was in the bag, revealing three thin gold bands, which are decorated by small diamonds. A gasp comes from the man next to you, who is shaking his head in approval as he points to the ring box. “Oh he’s good, they are gorgeous!”

“You know what they say,” you mumble, smiling softly, “all good things come in three’s.”

Rosa gives you a mischievous look, “Isn’t Daniel’s driver’s number three, Y/N?”

You can feel the blush coming onto your cheeks as you wave your assistant off and duck your head slightly to get away from the amused looks of your colleagues, “Stop it.”

After hours of preparation and shooting, followed by the task of getting you into your dress for the evening (which involved lacing up a very stubborn corset) and a round of “Should the hair be up or down”, you’re finally leave after completing the last touches of your look. You try your best at standing still as you let Miranda fasten the headpiece onto your hairdo, which she manages to complete pretty quickly. The trek to the car is chaotic to say the very least, but you manage to do your best as you walk through the doors of your hotel and smile at the flashing cameras and shouting fans while you walk to the van. Having to stand in the van in order not to damage the form of the dress you’re wearing, you think the worse part of the night is over – the only thing you have to do is meet Daniel on the carpet, pose, go up the stairs and enjoy the rest of the night; easy. Which is exactly why you end up close to losing your mind when the car suddenly stops moving.

“Oh my god, please tell me we didn’t just stop in the middle of the road.” Rosa mumbles from her seat.

You take a deep breath as you answer, “I’m sure we didn’t stop in the middle of the road–”

“There are protestors on the street, in front of the other car.” The driver replies from the front seat.

“Wh-who’s in the car front?” You ask Rosa, confused, as she furiously types away on her phone.

“Paris Hilton,” she mumbles, looking up at you, “I’m sure we’ll be there on time, just a bit delayed. I need you to keep calm, okay?”

The whine that leaves your lips has her looking at you worried, “I need– can you please give me my phone?”

She hands you your phone from her bag per your request, watching you struggle with your phone. “Y/N, do you need to take your medicine? Just to calm your nerves down a little bit?”

“No, they make me sleepy.” You mumble, finally finding his contact and calling him, “I’m fine I just need to tell Daniel.”

“Sweetheart.” His voice filling your ears as you take a deep breath. “Oh my god, you didn’t tell me how crazy it was in here!”

The excitement in his voice is enough to calm some of your nerves, “Yeah, you’re having fun?”

“Fun?” He exclaims, “I just saw Jared Leto come out of a cat suit, Y/N!”

“What?” You let out a breathy laughter, your eyes are on Rosa who is trying to talk to the driver. “That is crazy.”

“I know, I wish you were here to see it, too. Where are you anyway?”

“I– I’m stuck.” You confess, hand gripping the seat you’ve been using as support tighter.

“Stuck?” He asks, his voice conveying how confused he is. “Is everything okay? Where is Rosa?”

“She is here, Danny, there are protestors on the street so it looks like I’m going to be late.” Your eyes keep watching the scene around you with you trying to see whether the people are moving as your voice wavers at the end. “Paris Hilton is also late though, so at least we’ll be fashionably late together.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Daniel coos, his voice sounding so soothing to you, “don’t worry, okay? I’ll just wait for you down here.”

You let out a disagreeing hum. “They won’t let you; they need to have people move along so they can stick to the schedule.”

“Then I’ll just wait for you at the top of the stairs,” Daniel announces, “Kris Jenner did it for her kids, didn’t she?”

“I– What– ” You scramble to put the words together, making Rosa frown at you. “How do you even know that?”

“You obviously doubt my ability to keep up with the Kardashians, sweetheart. Now breath for me, will you?”

Daniel ends up staying with you on the phone until he is called up. You can tell he is hesitant to leave you, but you assure him that you’ll see him when you get there. Lucky for you, the crowd end up scattering and the car starts moving once again. You let out a relieved breath, but pray that no other complications arise until you make it to the Met. When the car stops again and Rosa informs you that you’ve made it to the location, you feel as if there is a big weight being lifted off your shoulders. You don’t even remember getting off the van and going inside or even stepping on to the carpet, but your short-lived dissociation is cut in half when you hear your name being shouted over and over again. You do your best to pose for every single camera even if the flashes are hurting your eyes once Rosa gently moves you along to help you onto the stairs, and you follow her as you pose for the las time looking over your shoulder with a wide smile – a pose you give every year, which the media dubbed as being yours and your mother manages to find new places to hang around the house after every year’s gala. You shoot Rosa a grateful look as she helps you move up the stairs by linking her arm with yours and lifting your dress for you to move more freely.

You’re almost out of breath when you reach the top of the stairs, but there is a smile on your face as you hear, “We have another bride, ladies and gentleman, another one!” You look around to the source of the voice a loud laugh escaping you when you locate it. Emma hums the Wedding March as you make your way over to her, also singing, “Here comes the bride.”

“It’s so good to see you again!” You smile at her, quickly giving her a hug. “Three years in a row? I’m so proud of you!”

“Oh stop it, I’m never going to keep this gig if I blush on camera!” Emma laughs, pointing to your outfit. “Obviously, we have another Chanel Bride here, but what can you tell us about your look today?”

“Well, it’s Bridal Chanel – from my mother’s collection actually. She decided to buy this for me before I was even born, so than you mom,” you tip your head to the camera and lift your fingers up in a mock salute, “sorry for not wearing it for my actual wedding.”

“Oh, no!” Emma gasps, “Was she angry with you for not saving it for your wedding?”

“I don’t think so?” You wave her off, laughing as you assure her, “We were looking at different looks to pull from the archives, and I always ask her opinion on these things, actually she was the one suggested it.”

She nods in understanding, smiling as she tips her microphone. “Well that’s a relief! What are your thoughts about this year’s theme for the Met Gala?”

You widen your eyes playfully, taking a moment to choose your words very wisely. “Yeah, I mean Karl was such a big influence in the fashion industry, but I think the important part about tonight’s theme is that creativity and fashion brings people together, and when people do come together beautiful things happen; that’s what I’m choosing to focus on.”

“That’s a beautiful way to put it actually,” Emma praises your answer, pointing to your hands as she asks, “And as a last question, what can you tell us about your jewellery? I mean I love all the bling you have on you right now.”

That manages to pull another laugh out of you, and you show the camera your hands for a moment as you answer her question. “The necklace was a wedding gift from my father to my mother, which is why it makes it so special; I think. As for the rings, most of them are mine but my boyfriend got me the gold ones, so they are very special as well”

“Well, thank you for answering a few questions for us tonight, and I hope you have a wonderful night!”

Right as you turn back to leave after saying goodbye to Emma and her team, your eyes lock with a very familiar set of brown eyes. The breath is knocked out of your lungs when you take in his attire, your legs taking you to his waiting arms in no time. You can’t help the giggle sneaking out of your mouth as you look up to him with a wide smile to match the one on his own face, “I am sending Thom Browne a thank-you card, and a fruit basket.”

“You like?” Daniel asks, raising a brow and wrapping his arms around your waist.

You let your fingers toy with the bowtie resting on his neck, “Oh, I love.”

His voice is smug as he lowers his voice, “I’m glad, sweetheart.”

“You in tweed does something to me,” you mumble, hands going over to feel the fabric of his jacket, “and don’t even get me started on the damn bowtie.”

“The bowtie is doing it for you?” Daniel laughs, and it is a full-bodied one where he throws his head back. “Are you being serious right now?”

“Do I look like I’m joking, honey?” You ask him in a deadpan voice. “I love this, I want you to wear this around the house, please.”

“Well, since you asked nicely.” Daniel nods. He takes your hands in his as he makes you twirl around for him to see your whole outfit, smiling at you boyishly when you face him again, “I was not expecting you to see you in a wedding dress when I woke up this morning.”

“Well, it’s Chanel.” You emphasise what you’ve told him earlier this morning, which he responds to by attempting to tickle you by your waist through the corset of your dress.

He tilts his head as he looks at you without any hint of joking, but his voice is the opposite as he asks, “Hey, you wanna get married after this?”

“Yeah sure, can I still take you home tonight afterwards?”

“You can always take me home, sweetheart.” He wiggles his eyebrows, pulling get another giggle from you. “Now, before we go inside and lose ourselves in all the food and the alcohol, is it going to ruin your makeup if I kiss you?”

You raise your eyebrows as you playfully smile at him. “I might not make it through tonight if you don’t kiss me right now, honey.”

“Well, when you say it like that,” he murmurs, pulling you towards himself with the help of his hands on your waist, and capturing your lips in a long awaited kiss. His lips are unbelievably soft, you realise, as your eyes close and suddenly all you care about the man in your eyes. The camera flashes doesn’t slow down the way Daniel kisses you, it’s one of those kisses he gives you when the two of you see each other after it’s been a while. A groan rumbles from the back of your throat when he scrapes his teeth against your lower lip, the pad of his thumb and his pointer finger angling your chin to give him a better access. You can hear the smirk in his voice as he pulls away, leaving you chasing after his lips while they touch yours as he speaks in a low voice, “I told you; you shouldn’t have doubted my ability to keep up with the Kardashians.”

You let out a breathy chuckle as you mumble, “Just kiss me, idiot,” and pull him in another kiss by his neck.

#monzabee #requests open #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo imagine #imagine #fluff #angst #smut #daniel ricciardo smut #daniel ricciardo fluff

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ssturniolo · 7 months

Note

hi! how are you? so this is my first time requesting anything so sorry if im not doing it right.. anyways, could i please request a fic where like yn sitting on the couch mindlessly scrolling through tiktok, and she saves an edit of matt to a collection and he see it happen, so he grabs her phone (which i lowk feel is outta character for him but wtv) and he starts scrolling though the collection and making fun of her and stuff?? idk i thought itd be cute/funny. but yea you dont have to just a suggestion:) thank you<3

btw im in love with your ficsss!!

I know

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 - Matt x fem!reader

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶 - request <3

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 - Nothing, just fluff (not proofread)

𝔞/𝔫 - awww tysm! Your so sweet!

After a long day at work, you’re so grateful to be curled up with Matt on the couch, scrolling through TikTok absentmindedly. After awhile of not really paying attention to what you’re watching, a certain edit catches your attention.

Your boyfriend, Matthew Sturniolo being edited to ‘GMFU’ is the cutest thing ever, and you find yourself blushing at your phone even though he’s literally sitting right next to you.

After hearing the same audio play at least 6 times, Matt glances over your shoulder to see you adding an edit of him to a collection named ‘loml’.

Laughing quietly to himself, Matt leans over to plant a kiss on your cheek before asking, “can I borrow your phone for a sec princess? I need to look at something quick”.

Not thinking anything of it, you hand your phone over immediately, leaning your head against his shoulder.

Matt turns the phone screen away from you slightly, going to your TikTok collections. Smiling to himself, he clicks on ‘loml’ surprised to see 1,385 videos saved.

Confused at why Matt’s smiling at your phone, you lean over immediately embarrassed.

“Hey! Gimme my phone back” you say, quickly snatching it from his hands.

“One thousand three hundred eighty-five?” He giggles, unable to hold his laughter back. “Geez baby I love you too”.

Rolling your eyes, you scoot your body away from him, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I can’t believe you just went on my phone for that” you pout, half joking and half embarrassed he found this.

“I’m sorryyyy” he drags out, pulling you back over to him, sitting you on his lap.

Refusing to look at him, you still pout playfully at the smile still plastered to his face.

“You don’t look sorry” you mumble as heat creeps up your neck.

Matt lifts your chin, forcing you to look into those beautiful blue eyes of his.

“For the record, I think that’s actually really cute” he says, leaning in to plant a kiss on the tip of your nose.

“Your lucky I love you” you joke, resting your head on his shoulder.

“I know baby, I know”.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Not sure I love this but whatever, I hope y’all enjoy!

XOXO - Zoe

#fypage #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #imagine #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matthew sturniolo imagine #matthew sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfiction #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo fic #fanfic #fypppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppp #the sturniolos #the sturniolo triplets

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truetogaia · 1 year

Note

Gimme some jake teaching na'vi reader naughty human things please bae I beg 😩😩

Im actually going crazy, feral, wild, ferocious, insane, crazed, deranged, mental, loco

pairing: dilf!dom!jake x fem!na'vi!reader

genre: smut, 18+

notes: honestly, I don't have anything to say. This one lowk sucks ass LMAO. anyway: Dilf Jake teaching his mate some kinky human things.

warnings: explicit and mature content, like partner drunkenness, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v, bondage, mommy kink , daddy kink, lewd and vulgar language, praise kink, spanking.

word count: ab 1k words

!NOT PROOFREAD BC ITS 4 AM!

It wasn’t unusual for Jake to fall into some sort of depressing state of mind. The feeling of being incredibly different and left out of his surroundings, gnawing at his confidence and at his heart. His bearing, his language, his skills, his personality; they didn’t fit in there. Didn’t go well with the way of the people, the forest.

He had felt so utterly useless, not being able to help the clan in any way other than as a jester for the rest of the na’vi to laugh at and ridicule. That was until he met you. You were so eager to learn his ways, almost completely abandoning the omaticaya way.

He adored you so much, loved everything about you. And when he let you know, spilled his tender heart out to you, you soon became a pair, connecting the tendrils of your kuru as soon as the words left his mouth.

Your mating had been so good, love radiating off of the two of you as you made love so innocently, producing the most loving family. And ever since then, sex became almost a daily occurrence. Jake simply couldn’t keep his hands off of you, always holding you or caressing your soft skin in some way. Gripping and groping at your hips, resting his chin on the top of your head, wrapping his long, strong arms around your middle to feel you against him. Anything.

And then, one day, when your kids were under your grandparents supervision, he suggested something. It made your heart flutter, knowing you would get to see more of his culture. A growing arousal settled between your plush thighs as he whispered into your ear the things he’d do to you. These were very unfamiliar things, things you had never heard of, or even thought about. His husky voice sent a shiver up your spine as he traced the outline of your waist with his hands, his hot breath fanning against your warm, blushing neck.

The warmth of his hands left a trail of goosebumps on your pretty, blue skin as he ran them up your body. He peppered your warm neck with kisses, occasionally nipping at your skin, marking you. He was pressed up against your back, making you suddenly aware of his prominent bulge pressing into your ass. The warmth disappeared from your form when Jake pulled away from you, leaving you disoriented and dazed. You turned around, confusedly watching him walk back into the room with a rope in his hands.

You were sprawled out on the ground now, on the hard surface of your wooden mat, hands tied together by a loose knot behind your back. Your stifled moans and mewls filled your shared hut, alarming unlucky passerbyers of your business. Jake’s long, slender fingers were knuckles deep into your squelching cunt, making gentle scissoring motions as they delved deeper, hot tongue sucking on your neglected bundle of nerves. Your hands instinctively fought against your restraints, desperate to grab Jake’s hair.

Your second orgasm of that night came crashing down on you as your hips rolled against your mate’s hand, a hot white blocking your vision as you came around his thick digits.

“That’s it, mama. Knew you could do it.” His praise made your head spin, ears perking at the nickname. “Yeah? Y'like being called mama?” A deep purple spread across your navy skin. “Now, I have something even better. Y’ready baby?” you answered him with a groggy nod, too busy recovering from your intense orgasm.

You squealed when he suddenly hoisted you up, turning you around so your back was facing him. Your pointy ears twitched as they picked up the sound heavy fabric falling to the ground. The sensation of Jake’s tip running through your soaked folds made you jolt, failing to suppress a moan you weren’t even aware of. It hadn’t been too long since the two of you had made love, but this was different, you had never been taken from.. behind before. It simply was not a thing na’vi did, because it wasn’t necessary, it wasn’t even a thing.

“Damn,” his voice was deep as he whispered, almost to himself, “you’re so wet, sweetie. All of this, just for me?” He teased, chuckling lightly before sinking his cock into your tight heat, entering you in one swift movement. Your loud moans were enough to get Jake to move. He grabbed the rope binding your wrists together for stability as he pounded into you, setting a ruthless pace from the start. He knew you could handle it, and based on the volume of your moans, he knew you absolutely loved it.

“Such a good girl. Y’enjoying yourself, mama?” He couldn’t see your face, but based on your lack of words, he could imagine exactly what you looked like. Eyes rolled back, mouth agape, a drooling, panting mess. “Yeahhh.. I bet you are.” His large hand dealt a smack to your ass, skin turning red at the sudden contact. Another new experience. He relished in how you screamed his name beneath him, how you were too fucked out to do anything but chant his name.

His cock felt heavy inside you, balls slapping repeatedly at your swollen clit as he pumped his thick length into your pussy. “Shit, mama, grippin’ me like a vice.. Y’close? Hm?” He tugged at the rope, forcefully pulling your hips back to meet with his.

“Cum for me whenever you’re ready, baby.” Jake angled his hips slightly, his fat tip now grazing your g-spot with each pound of his cock. He hunched over your arching form, gently kissing your neck. His ears perked up as an unexpected word rolled off of your tongue.

“Fhuuck, daddy right there-” You cried out, not being able to stop yourself. You hadn’t thought about it, saying it before your hazy mind could even register the word. Your hand gripped your mate’s wrist, a signal for him to keep going. His cock twitched inside your throbbing heat.

“Yeah? Gonna cum on daddy’s fat cock? Go on.” And you did. You came hard around his girth, body convulsing beneath his large body. Heat spread through your abdomen as Jake followed suit, pumping his seed deep inside your pulsing cunt.

As you both came down from your highs, sweaty bodies sticking to each other, Jake gently undid the knot on the rope, placing a kiss to your shoulder.

“I’m curious… Where did you learn that word?”

____________________________________________

Jake Sully masterlist ♡

____________________________________________

This is the only platform which this work is posted on. If you see this elsewhere, report it immediately! Do not copy or steal.

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rowretro · 3 months

Text

YANDERE ENHYPEN REACTION:

You try the orange peel theory on them.

✧taglist: @httpsrinrin

✧warnings: toxic/yandere themes, mentions of harassment

✧synopsis: Yandere Enhypen as your boyfriend. You recently saw a few videos on tik tok about the orange peel theory so you decided to try it on him, curious about his reaction...

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

✧LEE HEESEUNG✧

The male frowned, seeing you record on your phone, heck he was curious. You weren't the type to often post anyways. However, when you asked him to get you an orange the male was even more confused. "I thought you hated oranges-" Heeseung pointed out as the girl looked up at him "I know, but now I'm craving them" the girl said as Heeseung shrugged.

Heeseung peeled an easy peel orange for her and gave it, as he placed a soft kiss on her forehead. "You need anything else princess?" he asked as the girl shook her head, smiling up at him. "Hol up... are you recording this? why?" The male asked as she stopped recording the video "It was... just a tik tok trend-" she said as the male sighed.

✧PARK JONGSEONG✧

Jay would do anything to spoil you and you know it. Yet being locked in this great big mansion does have you feeling bored sometimes, so you decided to try this trend with him "Jay~" You called as the male ignored you "Baby~" you called again as he turned to you with a smile "what can I do you for pretty princess~" Jay said with a smile as the girl giggled.

"Can I have some oranges?" the girl asked as jay immediately got 2 oranges, peeling them and separating them onto a dish, making a heart shape. "You could've asked for something other than oranges- I'm a good cook you know- let me spoil you with my food~" The male said as he gave her the oranges. The girl smiled, hugging him.

✧SIM JAEYUN✧

The male knew exactly what you were up to. Please. Him and Niki spend so much time on tik tok, they've come across this videos a few times, so it's no surprise to him when you ask. He feels a little betrayed by the fact that you're testing him, but he didn't dwell on it knowing he could use this so called test against you. Heck he even put the fruit bowl near you.

"Babe can you hand me an orange?" you ask as Jake frowns, acting oh so believably "uh sure?" he says, taking an orange and peeling it for you "Here, need anything else?" he asked as the girl just hugged him. "Why are you recording this... hold on is this a test???" he asks as the phone finishes recording. Oh how he looked so upset and betrayed. You were buying every second of it, and he loved that because now he can be even more manipulative.

✧PARK SUNGHOON✧

Sunghoon was there when you saw the video. You were watching a Rebal D youtube video where he reacted to things that seemed so wild. Heck he saw how you reacted to the videos that were shown. So it was no surprise that you'd try it on him. The man was already making something in the kitchen when you started recording at the dining table.

"Babe can you gimme an orange?" you asked as Sunghoon frowned "but- I'm making us one of them fancy orange drinks, yk the orange creme dream or whatever it is-" Sunghoon asked as the girl blinked. "If you really want one then I can give you one, but that orange won't taste as good as what I'm making... you know I'm telling the truth I have experience as a barsita-" Sunghoon added as you snickerred, taking his drink instead.

✧KIM SUNOO✧

You were going to see the brand new saw movie because you heard it was pretty controversial, people had thrown up at the theatre during the movie. But Sunoo was taking a little while getting ready, hence you thought it'd be the perfect time to test a theory. It's pretty ironic actually, given that you fell in love with him after he murderred the man that harassed you and kidnapped you to force you into being his love. So yes very healthy.

"Babe can u gimme an orange?" you asked as Sunoo stared at you with wide eyes "You want to eat an orange. before we go to the theatres. to watch the newest saw movie. where sm people threw up when watching it???" he asked as you grinned "You think I'll be scared and throw up babe? Horror movies are our thing- just gimme an orange~" you pouted as the male shrugged, peeling an orange and handing it to you.

✧YANG JUNGWON✧

Like Heeseung and Sunoo, Jungwon was completely clueless about your little tik tok plan so it was all pretty wholesome. You hid your phone and started recording "Babe can you gimme an orange?" you ask as Jungwon narrowed his eyes at you "Do you want the peely one or the cutting one?" he asks "The one that peels please~" you respond as he goes to the kitchen.

He comes back later with a peeled orange in his hand "bon apetite~" he said with a smile as he gave you the orange. Smiling, you kissed his lips "I- can you kiss me again on the same place please?... I'll get you another o-" You cut him off with yet another kiss, to which he smiles. Heck when he saw the video appear on his following page he just smiled knowing everyone knew that you are his,

✧NISHIMURA RIKI✧

As mentioned before, Riki and Jake do so many tik toks together, and the male knows about every tik tok video you've ever watched or liked, some of them even being edits of other idols, but he let you off the hook. When he saw you secretly record, he smirked, he never bought any oranges for a while so if anything she'd look stupid. "Babeee~ can u gimme an orange?" the girl asked as Riki turned to her. He was going to just say there are no oranges, see that little pout on your face because you tik tok plan failed.

However... you just looked so fucking cute. "We don't have any oranges babe... but if your hungry... I'll take you out for dinner instead" he said. You immediately got up, and ignored your phone, running upstairs "I'M GONNA GET DRESSED LETS WEAR MATCHY HOODIES!" You screamed as you ran to get dressed. Riki rarely took you out because he hates exposing you to other people who may steal you from him... But seeing how excited you got, he couldn't help but chuckle "So fucking cute" he snickerred.

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pedropascallme · 7 months

Text

Thank You, Mr Miller

Pairing: dbf!Joel x f!Reader

Summary: "'So, what, I let you treat me like a whore and now you’re hiring a new babysitter?' You goaded him. Initially you thought this was the wrong thing to do—his brow raised in surprise at your words, and you’d considered the possibility that maybe this wasn’t what he had in mind, that it wasn’t what he wanted. But he grabbed you by the wrist, stroking your skin gently with his thumb."

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), age gap (reader is 20-22 age range, Joel is mid 50s), dom/sub dynamics (dom!Joel x sub!Reader), kinda brattammer!Joel? fingering, oral (f recieving), p in v sex, degradation, praise, little bit of cum play, Joel is talky when he's horny, no outbreak, if I missed anything else please let me know!

AN: Here it is...the moment you have all been waiting for...the long awaited part 2 of Yes, Mr Miller!! I hope you all enjoy <3

You woke up with your blankets pooled around your ankles. The heat from the fabric wrapped around you made your feet feel heavy under the sun shining in through your window.

You felt simultaneously drunk and deliciously sober; the daze and amazement at the events of last night washed away to reveal the underlying satisfaction of having finally gotten what you’d yearned for so deeply for so long.

Grabbing your phone off the nightstand, it finally registered to you how late you’d slept in; your parents had left for the day, for work and their respective errands, leaving you to sleep the day away despite more pressing matters. Your phone buzzed in your hand.

Still seeing you today?

Joel’s name lit up the screen and you felt yourself kick your feet, hearing the text in his voice, southern drawl and all. The thrill you’d experienced the night before hadn’t subsided, and the thought of being alone with him again, so intimate and passionate, made you bite your lip as you typed out your response.

Yeah. Gimme an hour.

~~~

The path to the Miller household felt longer today. Maybe it was the bubbling combination of nerves and excitement that you felt low in your stomach, but you kicked at the stones on the path, picking lint off of your skirt and trying not to let your hair fall victim to the humidity.

You hesitated before knocking on the door, unsure of whether or not you should change such a miniscule habit under even these circumstances.

You knocked anyway.

Joel answered, wearing a t-shirt that hugged his arms and abdomen, allowing you to admire his wide frame and the small scars near his elbows.

“Think we’re a little past knockin,’ darlin.’” He smiled down at you, and you flashed a shy smile that didn’t fool him for a second.

“Just wanted to be polite.”

“Yeah, I bet you do,” Joel licked his lips, “c’mon in.”

You followed him through the living room before stopping him at the foot of the stairs.

“Where’s Sarah?”

“With Tommy. Been buggin’ me to see him—knows he’ll do whatever she wants him to.” He scoffed.

“You do whatever she wants you to.” You grinned at his hypocrisy.

“Within reason.” Joel smirked.

“So, what, I let you treat me like a whore and now you’re hiring a new babysitter?” You goaded him, swatting at his chest. Initially you thought this was the wrong thing to do—his brow raised in surprise at your words, and you’d considered the possibility that maybe this wasn’t what he had in mind, that it wasn’t what he wanted. But he grabbed you by the wrist, stroking your skin gently with his thumb.

“F’I recall correctly, you loved bein’ treated like a whore.” Joel brought your hand to his lips, kissing each individual finger before letting it drop at your side.

“W—I might have…” You felt shy again, peeking up at him from under your eyelashes to watch the way his eyes darkened. “I think you liked it more.” You smiled, smug, but still carefully monitoring his reactions. Joel closed the space between you; your eyes came up just below his chin, and when he leaned down you could feel his breath on your face, his nose a hair’s width from your own.

“I think you’re mighty confident for someone I had beggin’ for more less than twenty-four hours ago.” His arms wrapped around your waist, but he didn’t move to kiss you, letting his words hang in the air.

“Mr. Miller…” You whispered, unable to make more than a peep with strong arms at your side and fierce eyes boring into you. Your hands came up to steady yourself on his forearms.

“Go on, darlin’,” he remained the same stoic, hard to read man you had come to admire, but you could see the anticipation building in him; with his lips parted slightly you could see his tongue trace over his teeth, wanting, waiting. “Beg.”

“Want you…” You tilted your chin up, hoping he would finally give you a taste of what you craved, “need you. Please.”

Joel finally gave in, pressing his mouth to yours in a heated exchange of spit and teeth; you could taste the smell of the cologne he wore and the mint of his toothpaste, and something that was so purely Joel. Your arms came to perch on his shoulders, lifting yourself up enough to match the fervor with which he was kissing you, letting your tongue dance across his lips and in turn letting his own lick into your mouth. In the light of day, there was something so much more profound about exploring each other—it felt less secretive, less taboo, and much more affectionate than the moments you had shared in the car last night. You moaned into his mouth, letting him capture and savor the sounds you made for him.

“Good girl,” Joel hesitantly broke away from you, your heavy breath matching his, “jump up for me, sweetheart.” You felt large hands grab the meat of your thighs, and you squealed as he hoisted you up to rest your legs around his waist, “Doin’ this right. Takin’ you to bed.”

You hummed, kissing his neck while he maneuvered up the stairs, feeling a small swat on your thigh when the love bites you gave him nearly made him miss a step.

You didn’t realize that you had made it into the bedroom, too busy sucking at the exposed skin he had foolishly granted you access to. It wasn’t until he dropped you onto the mattress that you realized he had stopped moving.

“Try’na kill me?” He huffed, “kissin’ me like that while I’m walkin’ up those crooked ass stairs?”

You scooted up the bed towards the headboard. “Shouldn’t’ve picked me up if you didn’t want my kisses, Mr. Miller.” You shrugged, enjoying the way his nostrils flared when you teased him. He grabbed your ankle, pulling you down the mattress, and you yelped at the sudden movement. Joel spread your legs and leaned over you.

“When did you become such a fuckin’ brat?” He pulled up your shirt, exposing your bare, braless chest. He let out a dry laugh, “Knew you were getting’ fucked today, didn’t even dress yourself properly.” The words were muttered, mostly for his ears as appreciation for the easy access you were granting him. He dipped his head down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth, his hand grabbing at the other one.

“Oh—! Yes, yes…” You felt his teeth brush against the pebbled flesh before his tongue swept over it in a soothing circular motion. The hand on your other breast pinched your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, before releasing it to engulf your entire breast and squeeze.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” Joel moaned into your flesh, sucking hard on your nipple and making your back arch into him, the feeling of his mouth on your chest had pleasure pooling in your lower stomach. “Dreamed about these pretty fuckin’ tits.” He resumed his movements, switching sides to pay more attention to the breast he’d been squeezing.

“Yours,” you combed your fingers through his hair, “all yours.” You moaned when he began to suck bruises onto the plush skin of your breasts, pulling at his hair gently in appreciation.

“That’s right, honey,” he came up to kiss your neck, “who do you belong to?” His hand came down to the hem of your skirt, flicking it up to allow his fingers to trail over your ruined, dainty cotton underwear. “Who’s this pretty li’l pussy belong to?”

“You—fuck—you! Please, you Mr. Miller. Please, please, please.” Your cries became repetitive when you felt his fingers press carefully against your clit, his calloused skin drinking in the moisture that seeped through your thin panties.

“I know, sweetheart.” He fell to his knees in front of you, pushing your skirt up your hips and out of his way to let him worship you properly; his hands toyed with the waistband of your underwear, and you grabbed limply at his wrist to spur him on. He all but ripped the fabric off of you, letting it dangle loosely around your ankle before you kicked it off and across the room, bringing your legs to his shoulders. Joel brought his face to your core, inhaling deeply, savoring your scent.

He brought two fingers up to pull you open wider for him to see. “So pretty, darlin’,” his fingers left your lips, trailing up and down your inner thigh before you felt the whisper of a touch on your entrance. “So easy to get you wet, princess. Eager li’l whore.” You squirmed, sighing softly at his words and trying to get what you needed.

Clearly eager in his own right, Joel’s tongue came down to lap up the juices pooling over your slit; you felt the muscle trail up to your clit and your legs folded and tightened around his neck, thighs squeezing his head in reaction to the sudden friction. Joel chuckled, arms wrapping around your legs to pry you open and allow himself space to bury his face into your cunt. You felt him suck on your clit, mouth closed around it, while his tongue came down to swipe over it. The back and forth combined with the pressure his lips sucked over you made your head swim, and you reached down to grip at his curls. He released you, spreading his tongue over your hole once more to explore the flavors you gave him. You felt him push into you, and you whimpered at the small but pleasant intrusion. The scruff of his beard rubbed into your thighs while he fucked you with his tongue, his nose occasionally bumping your clit as he tasted you.

“More…” You whined, one hand buried in Joel’s hair while the other pawed at your breast.

“Greedy li’l thing,” Joel kissed your clit softly before turning to place open-mouthed kisses on your thighs. “Tell me what you need, darlin’. More what?” His words were gentle despite the underlying need that laced them.

“You—anything...just want more.” Your words sounded out from your blissed-out haze, and Joel relished the opportunity to see you this way.

“Gonna be good for me? Keep your legs spread if I give you my fingers?” You nodded furiously, making a pathetic show of your obedience by widening your stance around his shoulders. Joel grinned, placing two fingers in your mouth. “Suck.” You coated them, and when he pulled them out a thin strand of saliva kept your mouth connected to them. Joel dipped his hand down to your cunt with the other still holding your thigh to the side, pushing both fingers into you and scissoring them slowly before drawing them in and out. Gasps escaped your throat when he curved them, his mouth returning to your clit while he stroked your most sensitive spot.

“Please, please, please—” You couldn’t think straight, so intently focused on the way his tongue felt against you, the rhythm of his fingers matching your steadily increasing heartbeat.

“Please what, darlin’?” Joel taunted you, speeding up the pace at which his fingers pumped in and out of your heat, “You wanna cum for me? Be a good girl like you were last night?”

Moans fell freely from your mouth, warmth building in your abdomen and spreading to the tips of your fingers. “Please, Mr. Miller…” You begged, fisting his hair in a subconscious attempt to lessen the overwhelming pleasure despite how badly you wanted it to continue.

Joel growled against you, his fingers curling more fervently. “Go on, then. Cum.”

You didn’t have to be told twice; your legs flexed then went limp around his neck, back arching into his hand and mouth, riding out the high he had gifted you.

“Fuckin’ pretty when you cum,” Joel praised, slipping his fingers out of you and moving down from your clit to lick the juices dripping from your entrance. “Taste so good, honey.”

Your skirt rested on your stomach, shirt still pulled over your chest, and you felt so utterly content with the feeling of having Joel whisper sweet nothings to you from between your thighs. You feathered your fingers through his hair, silently urging him to come up, letting out a small whimper when he licked small stripes over your clit before coming up to face you.

“Sweet girl,” Joel pecked kisses on your face, “not actin’ so tough now that you got the attention you needed.”

You giggled quietly, pulling him down for a kiss and scratching shapes over his back, still full of want even after he’d made you cum on his tongue. Your hips bucked up lightly against him.

“Pretty li’l whore needs more?” Joel groaned, pushing his growing erection into your thigh, and you whined. “Use your fuckin’ words.”

Your palms fell flat on his back, and you pulled him in tight against you, tilting your head to whisper your wishes in his ear. “Want your cock, Mr. Miller.”

It was like watching a man possessed; Joel stood, leering over you as he pulled off his shirt, undoing his fly in one swift motion. He pulled you towards him, letting you sit up so that he could strip you of your own clothing. You shimmied out of your skirt before lifting your arms up to let him take your shirt off. He threw it to the side, and your hands drifted over the bulge in his jeans. You looked up at him, batting your lashes.

“Christ, you’ll kill me.” Joel took hold of your hands, throwing them behind you and encouraging you to lie back down. His hands kneaded your thighs, pulling them open again so that he could situate himself between them. You watched him free his cock from the confines of the denim, your lips parting and mouth watering.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t thought about Joel’s cock before; it was the subject of all your fantasies. But now, watching him stroke himself above you, you felt unbridled desperation take hold of you. His hand wrapped around the base of his thick length, tip flushed red and veins running down the sides—you had never wanted anything more in your life.

You wiggled your hips, the pitiful noises you made doing nothing to encourage him to fuck you, only making him laugh over you.

“Told you to use your words,” Joel leaned over you, hand wrapping around your cheeks to certify that your focus was on him, “or do you just like bein’ difficult?”

You hummed at the way he spoke, thick accent coating the filth he said in sweet molasses. You blinked at him in faux innocence, “Can I have your cock?”

“Where are your manners, girl?”

“Please, Mr. Miller,” you spoke slowly, purposefully giving your voice a sultry edge, “can I have your cock?”

Joel straightened, taking his cock and running it through your folds, letting you coat him in your cum. “That’s what you want, sweetheart?” You felt him press his tip to your entrance, “Need this young cunt nice and full of my cock?”

Your restraint faltered, now purely focused on getting what you needed, and you couldn’t help the whimpers you let out, or the way your once teasing words turned into sobs of “please, please, please!”

Joel pushed his length into you, letting you acclimate to the feeling inch by inch; his brow furrowed, eyes closed, and your mouth fell open at the way he speared you so perfectly. “Goddamn, so fuckin’ tight f’me,” Joel groaned, bottoming out. His dominance faded slightly when he brushed the hair out of your face, “Feel good?”

“So full…” You breathed out, your hand falling flat against Joel’s lower stomach.

“S’what you wanted, ain’t it?” Joel bent himself forward, pressing his cock into you further, and you moaned out. “Wanted to get filled nice ‘nd deep?” There was that authority.

You nodded, nose brushing against his. “Fuck me—please fuck me.” You mewled, now accustomed to the stretch and longing to feel him wreck you. “Want you to break me, Mr. Miller.”

Joel let out an ungodly growl, immediately beginning to thrust in and out of you. “Fuckin’ slut—this what you needed? Big fuckin’ cock stretching this pussy out?” He lifted your legs over his shoulders, the angle lifting your bottom half off the bed and giving him more space to pound into you. “Pretty young thing doesn’t know what to do with this kind of attention, huh?”

His taunts had a shred of truth to them; your tongue lolled out from your mouth, spit drifting down over your cheek, and your eyes, though hooded, couldn’t hide how they rolled back with every deep push of his cock. You whined, trying to string together a sentence as best you could, but all you could manage was a continuous chant of “yes, yes, yes.”

“So pretty when you’re getting’ fucked,” Joel rambled, unable to keep his thoughts to himself when your pussy squeezed him tight, “you like this, princess? Like lettin’ a man twice your age use your cunt like this?”

You moaned, arching your back in wordless approval. Joel wasn’t satisfied with this, pulling out and smacking his cock against your clit.

“Asked you a fuckin’ question, girl.”

You cried out for him. “Yes! Yes, I fucking love it—please, I’m sorry, keep going!”

“That’s what I fuckin’ thought.” Joel reached around you, gently maneuvering you onto your stomach. “Put your knees up for me, baby.” You obliged, tucking your knees under yourself and keeping your back arched for him. He slid back into you, the head of his cock nestled perfectly against your g-spot in this position. You felt hands pull the hair off your neck, and Joel came closer to whisper in your ear, “Can I fuck you like this, darlin’?”

You hummed an affirmative, “Yes, please,” and pushed yourself back against him, letting the curve of your ass rest against his hips. Joel grabbed at the skin of your hips, squeezing at the soft flesh and watching the way your ass bounced against him.

“Fuck—yeah, like that, honey, that’s right. Fuck yourself on my cock.” You sped up, eager to impress Joel with your servility and delighting in the way you could feel every inch and vein of his thick cock with every movement you made. You rested your head on the mattress, arms spread out above you, and you could hear Joel’s deep moans of approval and praise.

“So perfect for me, s’so good.” His head fell back and his fingers dug into the flesh of your ass. He began to guide your hips at a faster pace; big hands holding your waist, pulling you flush against him. He watched with dark eyes the way you squirmed on him during an especially deep thrust, the way your fingers grasped at whatever they could find and your moans got higher in pitch when he fucked into your sweet spot.

“Feels so fucking good, Mr. Miller.” You mumbled into the bedsheets, voice uneven with the way your body bounced with every push of his hips, “you feel so good.”

“Needy girl, you feel good?” Joel cooed, “you gonna cum for me again? Let me feel you soak my cock?” He sped up his movements, his fingers moving down your body to apply pressure to your sensitive clit. Your toes curled, eyes watering at the overwhelming enjoyment that coursed through you; you lost any remaining control you had, legs uncurling beneath you, mouth producing whimpered gibberish. Joel held your now straight legs, using them as leverage to force himself deeper into your cunt. “My good girl, there you go. Cum for me, darlin’, lemme feel you squeeze me nice ‘nd tight. Show me again how fuckin’ pretty you look when you cum for Mr. Miller.”

You felt your legs tremble, eyes shut tight and pathetic, wanton moans escaping you. His fingers continued to massage your clit and with one last thrust of his cock you felt yourself let go completely. You screamed out cries of his name, whole body shaking around him as he continued to fuck you through the intensity of your climax.

“Fuck—fuck, so good—perfect fuckin’ girl.” Joel groaned, leaning forward to press his chest into your back, each thrust sloppier than the last as he approached his own release. “Where do you want my cum, sweetheart—tell me what you want.” He was practically begging, so close to his high, awaiting your command.

“Cum in me,” you spoke barely above a whisper, “please cum in me, Mr. Miller—need it, please.” Your legs still trembled from the aftershock of your orgasm, the light, airy feeling clouding your mind, coming down to earth only to provide necessary details; “On the pill.”

Joel kissed your neck from his perch behind you, thrusts messy and cock throbbing. “Yeah? Gonna let me cum inside you, princess? Fill this pussy up, fuckin’ mark you?” He got faster, sloppier still, and you whined in encouragement. He pushed himself deep into you, and you felt his cock stir when he let out a low groan of your name, coating your walls with his spend, rocking his hips against you to keep his load deep.

He slumped over you, breathing hard. You reached a hand up to pull gently on his hair. “Heavy.” He smiled through his gulps of air, slipping his cock out of you with a hiss, rolling off of you and pulling you against his side. Your hand cupped his cheek while his own hand roamed the side of your body.

“Was that—do you feel good, darlin’? Wasn’t too rough, was I?” His other hand came up to stroke your hair, eyes searching you for signs of hurt or regret.

“Perfect,” you kissed his chest, “felt perfect.” You felt his cum dripping out of you, thighs coated with the sticky moisture.

“Yeah?” Joel smirked, nosing the top of your head. He removed his hand from your hair, dipping down between your legs and pushing a finger into you to feel the slick mess you'd both made. “Then what do you say?” His hand came up to your face.

You cuddled closer to him, letting the heat and sweat from his body sink into yours before wrapping your lips around his offered finger and tasting the milky combination of your cum and his. “Thank you, Mr. Miller.”

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

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navstuffs · 1 year

Text

Wonderful Surprise

Pairing: Husband!Leon Kennedy x GN!Reader

Summary: After a horrible day at work, you find a surprise at your job's doorstep.

Warnings: comforting leon, self indulgent, cute fluff, domestic!leon

Author's Notes: can you imagine just leaving work and seeing leon waiting on you outside???? 😭 to have dinner at your favorite restaurant?? gimme gimme please!! hope you enjoy your reading!

my leon masterlist

You look at the clock, frustrated. Time couldn't be passing any slower. It had been such an exhausting day, and you couldn't wait to get home, unwind on the sofa, watch your favorite tv shows, and eat a warmed-up old pizza. Alone, you thought. No call or text from Leon, your husband, in two days.

You knew Leon was busy with whatever he had to do in those secret missions of his, and you didn't want him to worry about you, so you didn't disturb him, for more than you missed him. Leon did warn in the last message he could go M.I.A. Since then, something heavy has installed itself in your chest.

It was always like that, anyway. You became useless at work, at home. You tried to use Leon's shirts to sleep or watch the silly videos he recorded for you in case you missed him.

It wasn't enough. It would never be enough.

When it is finally time to leave, you walk toward the exit, checking your phone: Still no text messages. You sigh, typing that you would be leaving work and going home. That you loved him and couldn't wait to see him. For him to stay safe.

When you exit through the main doors, you first notice the sky. It is the start of the twilight, and it looks so pretty. You sigh, taking a picture. You may send that one to Leon. At least walking until the bus stop won't be so bad. If you want to get home soon, you must hurry.

You finally notice the man leaning against the building wall, eyes closed, hands in his pocket. Golden locks in front of his serene face, wearing his famous leather jacket. Standing there like an illusion.

"Leon?" You whisper, mortified. As if he would disappear or it was just your imagination going crazy.

Leon opens his eyes at the sound of your voice, giving a smile, the first one in days. You wait until he walks closer to you and hugs you, a sigh coming from his mouth.

"Hey, sweetheart," Leon whispers. Work had been horrible for him, and being unable to communicate with you made it much worse. Being close to you and feeling your heartbeat and presence instantly wiped all worries away. You are still frozen, not believing your husband is back. It takes you a couple of seconds before holding him back. Innahiling his smell and presence, all of him, "I missed you."

How much you missed his arms around you. His voice. His touch. You hide your face on Leon, not caring if you are outside work right now and anyone could see you. You can feel the tears forming in the corner of your eyes, and you hug Leon even more tightly. Leon wipes some of your tears when you separate, his eyes full of love.

"Wh-when did you come back?" You wonder as he checks your face, analyzing and admiring simultaneously.

"About an hour ago?"

"Fuck Leon, I have been worried sick about you. Why didn't you message me?"

"I wish I could have. My phone is gone, sweetie. It was just - fucked up this time, I guess."

You let out a sigh, feeling guilty. Leon looks fine physically: no visible bruises, no cuts. But you know, the inside must be a turmoil. You could see the pain in your husband's eyes, a pain you recognize well. You don't overthink that now, just glad he is home, placing a hand on his chest, another one to rub his cheek.

"I am sorry. Can we just leave?" You request, and Leon nods, holding your hand.

"Yeap. Just give me your car's keys, I will drive today."

"Wellllllll."

"What is it?"

"I didn't come to work by car. I came by bus," You admit, embarrassed to look at this face.

"Is something wrong with your car?"

"No. It is just...it makes the ride home longer. I tend to do that when you aren't here," You confess, feeling ridiculous. Then you quickly add, to not sound so desperate, "Also, it helps the planet, fewer cars in the streets, pollution, all of that!"

"My car is nearby, don't worry," Leon replies, his voice calm.

"There is also something else," You add before you can start walking. Leon stares back at you, his expression going a little worried. "We might need to get dinner on the way."

You don't look at Leon for his reaction, worried he might be disappointed with you. And he has all the right to be since you had promised him you would do your best to take care of yourself when he was away.

"I see. Your favorite, then?" Leon simply asks, maintaining the same calm tone from before.

You look at him, grateful and nodding. You are just happy you can have him in yours arms again.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy fanfics #leon kennedy imagines #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy imagine #again my titles are shitty #andddd i wish this a little more comforting #but this is my guilty pleasure leon husband

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sturnioloarchive · 1 month

Note

Can u do Matt smut please, maybe the reader getting punished with a vibrator and overstimulated or edged with it:) sorry if that’s too much 😭 honestly love your smuts ❤️

"𝑳𝑰𝑻𝑻𝑳𝑬 𝑩𝑹𝑨𝑻" 𝑾𝑰𝑻𝑯 𝑴.𝑺

❥ 𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚:𝑴𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔𝒏'𝒕 𝒈𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒎𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏, 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌. 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒕𝒔 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓'𝒔 𝒋𝒐𝒃, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒃𝒐𝒚𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅. 𝑺𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 "𝒅𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒅" 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒉𝒊𝒎 𝒋𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒔, 𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒊𝒅𝒏'𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝑪𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝑴𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒋𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓

❥ 𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 : 𝑭𝒆𝒎!𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓, 𝑱𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒚, 𝑬𝒅𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒈/𝑶𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒖𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏, 𝑼𝒔𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒗𝒊𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒓, 𝑷𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕, 𝑻𝒐𝒙𝒊𝒄 𝑴𝒂𝒕𝒕(?), 𝑹𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕, 𝑫𝒆𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏, 𝑺𝒑𝒊𝒕 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒌, 𝑺𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕(?) 𝒔𝒊𝒓 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒌, 𝑴𝒂𝒕𝒕'𝒔 𝒋𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝑪𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔, 𝑺𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝑹𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒇𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝑳𝒎𝒌 𝒊𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆'𝒔 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆!!

❥ 𝑨/𝑵 : 𝑯𝒊 𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏!! 𝑭𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒐, 𝒎𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔, 𝒊𝒕 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒔 𝒂 𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒈𝒖𝒚𝒔 𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌, 𝒔𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒅, 𝒔𝒐 𝒔𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒚 𝒊𝒇 𝒊𝒕𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒆𝒙𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒍𝒚 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒊𝒎 𝒔𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒚 𝒊𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆'𝒔 𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒔 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒊𝒎 𝑩𝒖𝒍𝒈𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒅𝒚𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒙𝒊𝒄!! 𝑨𝒍𝒔𝒐 𝒔𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒍 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒕𝒉 𝒊𝒔 𝒇-𝒖𝒑, 𝒍𝒎𝒌 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒎𝒚 𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒔 𝒑𝒍𝒔 :3 (𝒑𝒔:𝒊𝒇 𝒅𝒐𝒏𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒅𝒐𝒏𝒕 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅.)

༺୨♥︎୧༻ ༺୨♥︎୧༻ ༺୨♥︎୧༻ ༺୨♥︎୧༻ ༺୨♥︎୧༻ ༺୨♥︎୧༻

You are in the triplets's house, they are out filming yet another car video.

You are sitting in your boyfriend's room, laying down on his bed.

You started thinking about how, Matt doesn't have

That much time for you like before, you understand that its his job.

And you wouldn't make him quite or anything, but you miss him.

You want to make him jealous, so he can pay attention to you.

While you were thinking suddenly..

"Y/n we are home!" came Matts voice.

When you heard him you got up from the bed.

And opened the door, getting into the living room.

You saw the boys, Chris standing and drinking from his pepsi, like it was gonna run far away.

Nick in the sofa eating ice cream.

And Matt..

He came closer to you and hugged you.

"Missed you" he murmured while kissing your head.

"Mhm.." you buried your face into his chest, inhaling his perfume.

He pulled back, and looked you up and down.

Now noticing what you're wearing.

A t-shirt of his, thats oversized and reaches to your below knee, and too-short, shorts.

He at first thought you didn't had anything, underneath.

You followed his gaze and blushed, you forgot that you are dressed like this, in general you only walk like that around him.

And Nick, you personally dont even want, to walk like this around Chris. Out of respect to him, yourself and Matt.

When Chris finally stopped drinking, he looked over you both.

"I want a hug too" he looked at you, of course he wanted the hug from a platonic side.

"From me?" Letting out a laugh, you looked over him.

He nodded and came closer, he hugged you and you did the same back.

Matt's jaw clenched, at the sight before him.

After five more seconds you pulled back

"Matthew im in the mood for hugs, gimme a hug now." Chris laughed, looking at his Brother.

"Back the fuck up." Matt said, it came out as a joke. But he really meant it.

"Chris, you're such a kid" Nick looked over you three, laughing.

At that Chris went to him on the sofa, hitting him jokingly.

"Y/n i wanna sleep, you coming or you'll snuggle with Chris?"

You looked up at him, surprised at his tone.

But you nodded anyway, following after him.

When you two got to his bedroom, he locked the door.

"Matt, whats wrong?" Worried, you asked.

"Whats wrong hm?" He chuckled dryly.

You went to the the bed, sitting down.

"If its because of Chris, its-" he Interrupted you.

"Take off your clothes."

"Wh-what?" You looked up at him, from the bed.

"Take off your clothes!" He demanded again, sharply.

You got excited about what was about to happen, thinking that he'll fuck you himself but..

"No bra? And you were hugging my brother" he chuckled dryly once again.

"What a slut, and you didn't thought that he can feel these?" He pointed at you boobs.

You looked at him with puppy eyes.

"Matt please" whining desperately.

"Please what? Does the slut wants to be fucked? Hm?" He said while, taking a box from inside of his closet.

When he turned around, he saw that you took of you panties.

"Already?" He raised his eyebrows, opening the box and-

"Lay down, and spread your fucking legs." He demanded.

And you did, just what he said.

He took a vibrator from inside the box.

Your eyes widened at the sight, already knowing what he was about to do with you.

You spread open your legs ever more, when he came to you.

He looked at your eyes.

"If you fucking cum without ny permission, i swear ill make you cun so many times that you'll pass out, even after that." He said darkly.

You nodded.

"Use your fucking words slut" he slapped your right titty

"I-i understand Matt!" You whimpered, feeling your pussy getting even more wetter.

He looked between your legs, then at the vibrator that was in his, left hand.

He then turned it on, at the highest level.

He placed it on your wett pussy, rubbing it up and down.

You let out a loud moan, completely forgetting that Nick and Chris were out there.

"Yeah, let him hear you, you slut." He placed it on your clit.

Making you moan even more

"M-matty!" You closed your eyes shut.

"Feel good huh?" He pinched your nipple, using his free hand.

You whimpered from the feeling of, his fingers on your sensitive nipple.

He pressed the vibe, harder on your clit.

He chuckled at the state of you.

Removing the vibe from your clit, and dragging it.

Between your slick.

Making you moan loudly and loudly,

He suddenly pushed it inside of your pussy, making you moan out his name loudly.

After some more time, him denying your orgasm.

Tears started falling from your eyes, wetting your cheeks.

"M-matt, m'sorry..l-let me cu-" you suddenly came

Squirting a little bit.

"You fucking bitch! I told you not to cum." He said the last words through his teeth.

"M'so sorry matt" you whined, starting to get sensitive.

After all the vibrator is still on your pussy.

"You wanted to cum so bad huh? Now you'll beg me to stop."

He stopped the vibe, and went to one of his drawers,

Taking out a bandanna, he came close to you again.

"I'll tie you, safe word?" He reminded you that you can use, your safe word.

"F-fox" you smiled at him warmly, while he was tying the bandanna, now blocking your vision.

"Good slut." He said, while taking out his belt.

"Gonna tie your hands too, okay?" He asked.

"Y-yeah" he tied your wrists with the belt.

Spreading your legs more, and turned the vibe once again.

On full level, he placed it on your sensitive clit.

Making you groan and moan loudly.

"You were so worried about getting to cum, now you're gonna cum so much baby." He chuckled, caressing your thigh.

"O-oh fu-nghh-fuck, Matt!" You got closer to your, second orgasm fast.

"That soon? Pathetic bitch, so needy for me, you did all that on purpose huh? Or perhaps you want Chris huh?" He pressed the vibe even harder on your clit.

"N-noo" you shake your head for no

"No? But yes, it's not the only time that you got too close to him, and the way he looks at you, bet he wants to fuck you badly. But he cant." He slapped you across the face slightly but enough to feel slight pain.

You moaned out from his action, feeling your tummy tightening again.

"Cu-cuhh-cumming!"

"Yeah? gonna squirt for me again? Cmon slut do it!"

And you did, harder than the first time.

Coating the bed with, your warm juices.

"Again-" Matt demanded

"Pl-please" you sobbed.

"-you will do it again"

"M-mmatty cant" you whined.

"Shh" he went on the bed, and between your legs, pressing the vibe on your swollen clit.

And he started fingering your cunt, with 3 of his fingerings.

You bucked your hips against his hand, already so overstiulated.

"Moan my name bitch" he pumped his fingers, in and out in a furious pace.

Pressing the vibe harder.

"M-matt!" You screamed out, when you came again.

Coating his fingers into your, creamy cum.

"Good girl, so good for me." He praised you, stopping the vibe and licking his fingers clean.

He got closer to you, his covered chest brushing against your titts.

He untied your eyes, seeing your eyes puffy from your crying.

"We are not done baby." He stood up, throwing the vibe on the floor.

Removing his shirt, and then his pants with his boxers

Revealing his hard dick, his tip angry red.

Weeping with pre cum.

He got to the bed, between your legs, pushing them past your ears.

Putting you in a matt-press.

"Ready?" You nodded.

He then pushed inside of you, at once.

He groaned out.

"Made me so hard, that it started to hurt baby." He looked at you

Seeing your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

"Take it, bitch." He slapped you again.

Making you moan harder, he then started fucking you with animalistic pace.

Making you cum squirt again, coating his dick in your juices and creamy cum.

Making a white ring on the base of his cock.

He looked down, where you two connected, groaning at the sight.

His thrusts grew sloppy, meaning hes close.

"F-fuck gonna cum in you baby"

"Y-yes please matt!"

"You gonna take it, like the good little bitch you are, right?" You nodded.

"Y-yesss!" You moaned

With five more thrusts, he came inside of you. A lot

All his pent up cum, now inside of your belly.

He pulled back, and untied your hands too.

"Did so good baby, you good?" He kissed you on the lips.

"Y-yeah"

"I didn't scare you or anything right?"

You chuckled at that, the person who punished you long gone.

"Yes matty, im f-fine..just sore"

"Wait here" he stood up, taking his shirt and coating it with water, from the bottle to the nightstand.

Because his bathroom was out of the room.

He started cleaning you up.

Your hips bucking from the overstimilation.

"Shh, its okay" when he was done, he cleaned himself too.

and put his boxers back on, searching for your panties.

And when he found them he put them back on you.

He kissed your forehead, laying down on the bed, hugging you close to him.

"I love you angel"

"I love you too"

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Yall, im so sorry if its too rushed and filled with mistakes, but im on my period and my tummy hurts so bad :(

Lmk for my misspellings pls!!

Reminder that my askbox is on!!!

Also i hope that its what the anon wanted

Hope yall liked it tho <3

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #female reader #nick sturniolo #mega katya44 #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x fem reader

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