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chrollohearttags · 3 months

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“..smile for me, daddy..”

you take quite the liking to eren’s newest piece of jewelry!

oral sex (p + a eating), spit play, hair pulling, fingering, squirting, need I say more?

I’ve written this trope before but I’m doing it again because why not?! I can’t get it out of my head and I am pushing this agenda. (Also trying to ease back into writing because I’ve been bullshitting.)

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•

“What you think, my man? How ya’ like it?”

“..yeah, this is the one, dude..definitely the one..”

stood before the counter at Schiaparelli Jewelers, brandishing a mirror in one hand as the the other casually stroked over his chin, Eren’s lips curled into that of quite the smirk; in turn, refracting off of the light..to say that he was satisfied with the result of his latest commission, would be a very gross understatement. Schiaparelli’s had become a staple in Miami's Design District. A multi-generational business with a reputation that preceded them. With infamy rivaled next to Johnny Dang. Having catered to celebrities and the city’s elite alike, they curated the most beautiful pieces with the utmost care. Thus, earning them millions and a recurring clientele. Among those were the Underground God himself and seasoned musical maestro, EJ the Don. Who had gotten everything from his first chain to the wedding ring he placed on his beloved (y/n)’s finger a year prior. VVS diamonds glistened from the bottom row of his already perfectly aligned teeth as he examined the new grill he had just acquired. A spur of the moment decision he’d made on impulse while you were away on another modeling trip. The custom mold wrapped his entire bottom and encapsulated his canines with red stones. It was absolutely beautiful and although the piece had set him back roughly fifteen thousand, it was well worth it and deserved in his opinion! Having just been nominated for two writing awards and a third for album of the year. Awards season was approaching and although it wasn’t among his priorities to attend, it was still a feat worth celebrating. Not to mention, it was quite the confidence boost as well. He wasn’t one to base his self worth in extravagant jewelry or expensive clothes, but he was certainly feeling quite good about himself in these. He loved the way they looked against his lips and how they complimented his teeth.

dapping up the jeweler, EJ thanked the man once more and proceeded to give him quite the hefty payment for his services..of course, self gratification wasn’t the only reason he had gone and copped this new piece for his collection. He was actually hoping to get a little something more out of the deal..

“That’s what I like to hear, my man! Listen, how do you think the missus will react? Think she’ll like ‘em?”

a question he was certain he’d find out the answer to as you had just shot him a text, saying that you’d made it home and of course..to hurry back to you! Not a moment too soon, in his opinion. He’d spent all week longing to see you again and what better way to greet you than with a surprise like this?

“..I guess we’ll find out soon enough..”

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•

“Mmph…Rennnnn, baeee! Stop—oh my gosh…”

the words spilling out in a trail of whiny huffs being drawn forth from your mouth. Among many other lewd sounds leaving you at the moment. Just as he had expected, your reaction was one he could’ve spotted from a mile away..the second Eren made it back home through the door, (y/n) came rushing him as you leaped forth into his arms. It didn’t take long after spinning you around with an array of kisses for you to spot them..the faint glint from his mouth as you slowly pecked at it. It was when you took his bottom lip between your teeth and tugged gently, did you reveal his little secret. He could tell immediately from the glare on your face, just what you thought of it. That was also apparent by your sudden shift in demeanor..going from subtle, flirtatious kissing to full blown, unadulterated lust. He had no interest in setting you to your feet or halting your advances, especially when you continued to swirl your tongue around his own and continue filling his head with compliments. From how sexy he looked with them and how badly you desired to wet them up! “Yeah? I’m glad you like them, baby.” That was to say the least. He wasn’t shocked in the slightest and once he heard your opinions, he no longer felt any reservations about his purchase! So fast forward, and the two of you moved your little party to the downstairs game room, where he’d often reside on his days off. You’d find yourself on the leather couch in the corner, legs spread to either side as he feasted at your center. Nearly seven days had passed since you’d seen one another in person and nearly ten since you’d had any physical touch so it was obvious what was on either of your minds. Inked up fingers laced around your throat in an effort to make certain your eyes never shifted from his. Meanwhile, you couldn’t help but to glare down at him with tears and lust teeming at your waterline. A finger slid between your lips as your husband delicately flicked that tongue around your clit..and each time, he’d make certain to flash you a toothy grin. In which you’d catch those sparkling diamonds littering his mouth.

“You sure you want me to stop, baby? I mean..you were the one begging me to make you come in my mouth.” Prompting both of you to burst into laughter. He knew that it was only because you were so close to your peak. Apparent by the creamy secretions leaking down his chin and staining that silver. How he craved your essence, your flavor and the feeling of you dripping onto his tongue. How good it felt to hear your moans coagulating with the sounds of his loud slurping, erupting throughout the room. Those white toes resting atop his bare shoulder blades, curled up at the slightest brush of your little bud. “I-I..fuck, it just feels so good, baby. Please..keep going.” (Y/N) uttering with the heave of your chest, rising and falling at a rapid rate as you tried to control your breathing.

“That’s what I thought..now lay your pretty ass back and lemme take care of you..lemme eat this pussy. Missed you so bad..”

with that, he’d continue his ascent into your soaking cunt. Exploring every fold, crevice and every delectable part of his beautiful wife. It may have been his favorite pastime if he were being completely honest…eating you until he brought you to the brink of tears and ecstasy. There was something so satisfying about it. Especially with the euphoric feeling of those juices making contact with his mouthpiece. Your fingertips would run underneath his chin and stroke the side of his face as his own dug into the thick flesh of your thighs..kneading slowly and keeping you in place. “Fuck…you look so sexy. Shit..” tossing your head back and releasing another breathy giggle from the overstimulating pleasure. “..swear you gon’ make me come, daddy..right there.” Guiding him along with your hand and those loud whimpers. That sundress that wrapped your body was shuffled down to your tummy as it bunched up underneath your breasts. You’d alternate between them and those dark tresses of his, not entirely sure what to do with yourself as you were unraveling.

“Don’t tease me now, princess. I need all of that..please..”

only taking a breath momentarily to work a couple digits inside of that hole as it spasmed on the air. He knew you needed to be filled but for now, he wanted to continue his feast..in more ways than one. As he parted your legs even further and continued working those digits in and out, Eren tugged you towards him. The only time he’d become forceful, as to keep you restrained. Because whilst you were focusing on the gentle thrust of his fingers in your pussy, his tongue would snake south to your puckering hole. Where the tip prodded at it and he’d flick around until you were trembling. Pleasure only increased tenfold when you pinched at those sensitive nipples. You could barely contain yourself and it was only a matter of time before he’d be getting that sweet release. He’d squeeze at your plump asscheeks as he switched between your entrances. Lobbing each hole with a very generous amount of spit. Soft whimpers arose from your throat and even hitched but that wasn’t enough for him. He needed that body to fall apart within his grasp and to react only the way he could make it happen.

“Come on, gorgeous. Let me have it. You wanna come, don’t you?”

that toothy smirk appeared yet again along with a high pitched coo. It never fails to make you melt..with the nod of your head, you’d shake vehemently, just grasping at anything to feign off the swelling in the pit of your stomach. One that was only mere seconds from exploding.

“Aw, then let it out. Do what you said you would earlier..or you gon’ hold back on me?” Teasing as he continued to push up into your most sensitive spot. And it didn’t take long until you were exploding all over the couch and of course, those silver slugs lining your man’s mouth. “Fuck! Fuck!—“ “..thereeee we go!” (Y/N) released a shroud of juices that spilled onto the cushions and Eren let his tongue wag as he lapped up every single drop..those fingers sopping with your creaminess. Which he’d let you slurp off once you were able to compose yourself.

“Shit!..Kiss me..” whining as you tugged him up by his chain and into your grasp. Shoving that tongue back between his lips and tasting the remnants of yourself against those grills. Cupping his face between your palms, you’d pull away from each other to meet gazes once more. That’s when he’d smile for you once again and you’d swoon for him all over again.

“Yeah, I’m gonna need you to wear those more..like all the time.”

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bitob · 2 years

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every day i get closer to running over a pedestrian or slashing someone’s tires

#context: pedestrians being stupid n walking on the road instead of the perfectly serviceable footpath w their headphones in #totally oblivious 2 the existence of my car #n stupid drivers being arseholes abt everything like . some dick pushed my rearview mirror just 2 fit in the parking spot next 2 me ...#fortunately it didnt break but . holy fuck if it had . i wld have literally no way 2 get recompense .#why am i as a p plater a better driver than 99% of black license drivers .

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rafeandonlyrafe · 22 days

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chat part two

words: 700

warnings: 18+ only, cockwarming, p in v, very fluffy compared to part one i just wanted an excuse to write cockwarming sorry!, established relationship, streamer!rafe, gamer!rafe

part one / part two

“no, don't go.” you whine, gripping onto rafes hand, trying to pull him back down on the bed.

“im supposed to stream soon, baby.” rafe says, leaning back down to press a kiss against your lips.

you usually don't mind when he has to go stream, but you're feeling incredibly clingy today as you tug at his hand again when he doesn't lay back down, doesn't continue the cuddle session.

“why don't you come with me?” he offers. “you can sit on my lap while i play?”

that has you perking up, nodding rapidly. “can you carry me to your stream room though?”

your legs work perfectly fine, but that doesn't stop you from wanting rafe to carry you around everywhere, loving the way your bodies can stay pressed together.

rafe smiles softly, reaching down to scoop you into his arms. “you're lucky you're so damn cute.”

“love you.” you coo, pressing your lips to his neck as he carries you out of the bedroom and down the hallway. you don't hide the fact that your kisses quickly turn to sucks as you leave a hickey for everyone to see, yet again claiming your territory, not that rafe let's anyone even get close enough to try anything.

rafe sits down in his gamer chair and you quickly adjust to straddle him, your chests pressed together as he begins clicking buttons, setting up his stream.

“remember that time i sucked you off on live?” you ask with a small giggle.

“yeah, i remember how much shit i got from twitch.” rafe chuckles, dropping one hand to squeeze your ass. “totally worth it.”

“maybe… maybe i could sit on it?” you don't form the actual words, just alluding to what you're really asking for.

rafe hums, thinking it over briefly. he almost got his twitch partnership revoked, it even went as far as to threaten a ban despite nothing actually being seen.

“you gotta actually sit still though.” he says. having your tight cunt wrapped around him will be well worth the possibility of a ban. plenty other streaming services would jump at the chance to have him exclusively anyways.

“promise.” you kiss rafes jaw as you slide your shorts and underwear off. rafe adjusts the camera, zooming it in more and changing the angle so there's no possible chance for your ass to be on screen as you pull his cock out of his pants.

“gonna start the stream now. get me hard then get on my cock.” rafe says, waiting for you to nod before clicking the button to start the live.

your body hides his privates as well, the camera just seeing rafe from the chest up as well as the back of your head.

“babygirl is feeling clingy today so she's joining me.” rafe says as the viewers start to roll in. “isn't she just the cutest?”

you smile, turning your head slightly to grin at the camera before focusing back on what you really want.

you wrap your hand around rafes cock, stroking him subtly until he's hard enough for you to raise your hips, hovering against his tip before slowly sinking down.

you let out a soft moan, remembering to press your mouth against his shirt to muffle the noise.

it's hard to stay still, but your eyes drift close and eventually as rafe streams, the gnawing need to get fucked or move decreases, and you find yourself enjoying the stillness.

“love you so much bun.” rafe whispers, kissing the side of your head as you're slumped against him.

“couple more games and ill be done, yeah?”

“um…” you glance at the time, blinking away the bit of sleep. rafe is always down to end a stream whenever you want, but you also don't want to force him to stop early. “im actually okay. you can keep going.”

“really?” he laughs as a new game begins. “not desperate to start bouncing?”

you shake your head no. “i actually kinda like just this.” you admit softly, laying your head back down.

rafe keeps streaming, his cock inside of you, warm and secured, your bodies secretly connected while you sleep on his shoulder, chat going crazy about how cute you are sleeping against him, wishing they were in your position.

rafe smirks seeing the comments. if only they knew.

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freelancearsonist · 2 months

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Won't You Suffer for the Angels to Fly?

➔ Joel Miller x fem!Reader - 2k

➔ Joel finds religion in the last place he expected to--a preacher's daughter.

➔ Rated MA for pure blasphemy. a lot of religious imagery and defiling of holy places--please read at your own risk. unprotected p in v sex, creampie, squirting, fingering (f receiving), corruption kink, HEFTY age gap (r is early 20s [unspecified], joel is 56), reader uses feminine pronouns and has female anatomy [please let me know if i missed anything at all :)]

➔ this is for my mid to plus!sized readers :) you're beautiful and valid and i love you. this was written in basically one sitting after i binged mike flanagan's midnight mass in one night. thank you to my lovelies @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin and @shakespeareanwannabe for talking me through this <3 title is from "heaven only knows" by bob moses

The Bible teaches–at least according to what Joel was able to gleam from the Easter service–that everything happens for a reason. That every pelting raindrop in its descent from the sky, even before it lands heavy and dark in his hair or soaks the lush green landscape of Jackson, has a purpose.

He’s struggled a lot with purpose ever since hearing that existential crisis-inspiring sermon that Tommy had dragged him to.

In the preacher’s defense, it went over well with everyone else. So many people are lost nowadays, adrift in a world that doesn’t seem to have space for them. They need that hope, that reassurance that they’re here for a reason. That they’ve survived hell on earth not out of luck, but out of purpose. He pulled out the big gun that everyone needed to hear on one of the two days a year that everyone in Jackson has their ears open to him. It was tactful, and Joel has to acknowledge that. Your father is clever, if not cunning.

It’s a trait that you’ve learned directly from him, whether purposeful or not. But you sat right in the front row and nodded along to every word, accepting without thought or conflict that purpose is in every action, every reaction, every change of tide and every gust of wind.

And if everything has a purpose, your purpose must be to torture him.

You never have anything but a smile on your face for Joel. Joel, a man older than your own father, a man whose hands have broken every commandment that you hold so dear. A man that should know better than to let you get under his skin and infect his dreams.

He wonders what it would be like to hold someone so perfectly untainted in hands that have killed and destroyed and sinned. Hands that are strong, hands that are experienced, hands that are greedy. He’s certain he could teach you all about greed. He could make you beg, plead, sob for more and more and more until the only thought remaining in your pretty little head is how much you want to take from him. Until you become a glutton at the altar of his generosity.

And oh, how generous he could be once he had you begging. Minding your manners and asking nicely for what you need, of course, but he would never deny you anything you asked of him.

“Can I help you with that, Mr. Miller?” He hadn’t even noticed he was struggling–and he wouldn’t be, really, if he wasn’t so distracted. Putting new legs on a pew isn’t the issue after all; it’s the fact that you’re sitting there on the stairs that lead up to the altar and absentmindedly swinging your legs as if you’re taunting him. As if you understand that his resolve is slipping with every passing second he’s alone in this room with you.

“Joel.”

“Hmm?” You shift your posture to lean closer, and that skirt that’s already way too short to be worn by the pastor’s daughter, in a house of God of all places, rides just a little further up your deliciously full thighs.

How is he expected to work, to keep his mind on the job, when all he wants is to know what those thighs might feel like wrapped around his head?

He clears his throat and adjusts “You can call me Joel, sweetheart.”

He sees it, then. It’s so subtle, but it’s not imagined. You squirm at the pet name, at the raspy drawl of his voice, and it changes everything for him.

He sees in his mind the sweet girl, barely out of her teens, who sits in the front pew with a Bible in her lap. He sees the girl who sings so sweetly to the tune of every hymn. He sees the girl who’s so shy that she blushes every time she catches his gaze.

And then he sees everything underneath the act. He sees the girl who’s bold enough to wear a bright red dress to the Easter service. He sees the girl who makes eye contact with him across the dining hall every night to watch the way he reacts to her lips wrapped so tantalizingly smoothly around her spoon. He sees the girl who knew he would be alone in the chapel today–the girl who wore an easily accessible skirt just for the occasion.

You bookmark the page you’re on and set down the book you were reading, eyes fixated on him all the while. “Is there something I can help with, Joel?”

There certainly is, and it’s not the pew he’s supposed to be repairing.

He remembers, vaguely, hearing something about how God spares guilt from sinners when sin is necessary. It must be necessary to teach you a lesson, then–as you stride over and kneel beside him, your eyes heavy with anticipation and lashes fluttering, he doesn’t feel an ounce of guilt.

“Hasn’t your daddy taught you not to dress like this?” He takes the hem of your skirt idly in his hand, rubs the silky fabric between his thumb and forefinger. He’s not touching you, not really, but his hand is so achingly close. An inch or two, and he’d feel your warmth–those plush thighs that God created to rule over Joel Miller’s mind, body, and soul; ‘til death does he finally know peace, amen.

You shake your head and even manage to seem smug as you say, “No. He just teaches everyone else to resist temptation.”

“I’ve never been much good at that,” he murmurs.

He thinks that you know that. He thinks that you’re his crucible, his most important moral trial–that maybe, if he can turn you away now, he’s a good man.

Joel Miller is not a good man. His kiss is crushing. It’s hellfire, it’s brimstone, it’s everything you’ve been taught to fear your entire life. You melt into it so prettily, accepting your damnation with parted lips and eager eyes. A wanton moan gets caught in your throat when his hand slips further up your skirt.

No panties–in a place of worship, no less. He should bend you over his knee for this transgression, make sure you understand how filthy you are. But there’s hardly time for that now, not when he’s even more desperate than you are. And you are desperate–dripping down his fingers into the palm of his hand as your teeth leave perfect little indents in the plush skin of your bottom lip.

His free hand grips your chin firmly, guiding your eyes to his. He wants to see your depravity, the flickering embers of lust in your eyes as you come on his fingers and cry out for salvation from the all-consuming pleasure.

“Oh my God–”

His hand tightens around your jaw just the slightest bit in warning. “No, baby. You moan my name when I’m touchin’ you.”

And you do–thighs trembling, eyes watering, you cry out his name like a prayer as your cunt pulses and squeezes around his willing fingers.

There’s an unpracticed tremble to your hand as you reach to work open his belt, and it makes his cock throb under the confining material of his jeans.

You want every inch of his skin pressed against yours, so desperate for it that you’re nearly in tears when he pulls your fingers away from the buttons on his shirt. He’s not foolish–no one steps foot into this place during the week, but he knows better than to tempt God’s sense of humor. This has to be quick and contained, and you know it too; you picked your little skirt for exactly that reason.

He catches a glimpse of your glistening need as you settle over his thighs, and once again he battles to resist temptation. He whispers in your ear as you settle your chest against his and grind that fluttering, sensitive cunt along his length–promises himself more than you, really, that he’ll bury his face in your folds and drink from you next time. Next time–the promise makes you clench impossibly hard around nothing.

His eyes have never been quite as heavy as they are when you start to sink that dripping heat down his cock. Head tipped back, throat exposed, completely at your mercy. He has to force himself to look up at you–to worship the goddess enshrined on his altar, all his for the taking.

You bite into your lip nearly hard enough to draw blood as your hips settle against his, completely overwhelmed by the burning stretch of his size. He’s a challenge, certainly, but one that you are determined to overcome.

“Easy, baby girl,” he grumbles as you start to rock against him before you’re truly accommodated. His hands rest heavy on your hips–not anchoring, but encouraging. As wrong–as depraved–as this may be, he wants you to enjoy it without pain. “That’s right, nice and slow.”

It doesn’t stay that way, though; the desperation mounts to a boiling point until you’re bouncing fervently in his lap. It’s delicious, the way the thick head of him drags against something deep and sensitive within you. He guides you when your thighs start to burn, grip tightening enough to leave forbidden bruises in the soft flesh of your hips. His mouth presses to yours, breathing the oxygen straight from your lungs as he presses his hips up. There’s nothing you can do but take it, pliant in his hold, head rolling back to accommodate the wet drag of his mouth and the tickling scratch of his beard against your throat.

He feels it before you do–a subtle flutter as your cunt tries sucking him in even deeper. And maybe, if he was a good man, he’d lean away from it and have mercy on you. But he’s not a good man–he’s a greedy, wanton, desperate man. He angles his hips and thrusts as hard as he can, shoving you into your release with force.

You overflow with it; gushing over him like a flood, staining his hastily pushed down jeans and the floorboards beneath.

He pushes you onto your back like you’re weightless, adrenaline coursing as he starts to slam into you. It’s not polite or sweet or loving–he fucks into you and empties himself like an animal. He growls deep in his throat as his cock pulses within you, instructing you to “take it, baby girl” as if you’d consider anything less.

You don’t know where your release ends and his begins. All you know is his weight on top of you, his mouth on your jaw, the collective breathless pants that fill the room as you both come down together.

You’re not sure how long it is before he pulls out of your warmth with an actual whine, breath heavy against your neck where his face is so comfortably nestled.

And you start to laugh, because you wish you’d worn panties after all–you don’t know how you’re going to get home with the mess of cum that’s dripping down the curve of your ass.

He even chuckles with you, until he tears his eyes away from your blissed face and sees the cross hanging heavy on the far wall.

“Th-that…” he gulps. “That can’t happen again.”

“It can,” you assure him, and he supposes you’re right.

You keep your head down and your eyes to yourself on Sunday, even as you spot the barely-noticeable stain on the hardwood floor next to the newly-repaired pew on the right side of the aisle. It’s so faint that no one would notice it unless they were looking for it, but it’s glaringly obvious to you. You should be ashamed; you should be begging for forgiveness. But then you meet Joel’s watchful eyes, and the shame washes away. How can you feel guilty over an act of worship?

THE END

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#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller one shot #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us smut #the last of us one shot #joel tlou #cece writes

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mickyschumacher · 9 months

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐄 .ೃ࿐

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: friends with benefits is never a good idea. friends with benefits with carlos sainz especially isn't a good idea.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ (minors dni), jealousy, fwb to lovers trope!, let's hear it for the google translated spanish!!, unprotected sex again (using a condom is hot behaviour ♡︎), remnants of gaslighting?, oral sex, p in v, pussy eating, overstimulation, cumming inside, love confessions, set it up reference!, carlos realising his red flags, mention of rebecca donaldson as the other girl but she isn't vilified or anything (some peeps scare the shit outta me), idk anything about granada (except the memories of the alhambra! can i get an amen?)

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: carlos sainz x fwb!fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 6k+

𝐀/𝐍: this was a messaged request so i hope it was up to par! kinda long but we get there eventually. plot holes? yes. proof-read? um... to my sore eyes, yes.

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

⋆ •°. 。 .°• ⋆

There were many things the world still couldn't explain. The human body, the brain especially, why humans yawn, the cause of Alzheimers, or why tomatoes have 10,000 more genes than humans do.

In addition, you couldn't explain how you had gotten to be friend with benefits with none other than Carlos Sainz, an F1 driver for Ferrari.

Well... there were some parts you could explain. Like how you met. You were simply a girl from Pampaneira, Granada going grocery shopping after eating up the last of what was in your fridge and Carlos was a fresh bachelor who decided to spend a part of his vacation with his friends over 400 kilometres away from his Madrid home in Granada.

A fresh bachelor who also happened to need grocery's for his cousin's raging hangover.

To say you were the town's golden girl was a bit of an understatement. You were far too busy greeting all your local residents. You didn't notice Carlos when you first walked into the store.

But Carlos noticed you. Actually he noticed you before he even laid eyes on you. Your sweet floral perfume roamed the air and engulfed him, luring him without any words. And then he saw you.

You were a beautiful woman. Everything about you... the long hair, your glowing skin, curves every lover goes to dream about at night, eyes that you would never want to let down, your lips... God your lips, one look at them and no sane person could stop thinking about them... at night; and then there was your smile, a social service that could get rid of all the tension in this world.

You didn't notice Carlos until you felt a pair of eyes staring at you from the health isle that was poorly across from all your fruit. There was no shortage of attractive men in your town let alone Granada. But you had never seen a man like Carlos before.

The thicket of brown locks that you craved to run a hand through, his gorgeous tan skin that God must've given, the mysterious chocolate eyes, the perfectly plump lips which made you think he just had to be a good kisser, the slight scruff on his face that made you wonder how it would feel on your skin, the taut body... a gorgeous man.

You didn't know who Carlos was. In Pampaneira, although you new what it was, no one really cared for F1. It was a village that bordered on as a small town. Everyone here knew each other well and spent every second socialising.

You couldn't decide whether you wanted to talk to him or whether you were too nervous to. But it didn't matter because Carlos made the first move and introduced himself. You introduced yourself. He complimented you. You complimented him.

And that was that.

By nightfall, he was in your bed and the both of you had the most sinful, steamiest sex of your lives. So much that Carlos saw you for the rest of his time there. So much that when it was time to leave, Carlos told you to come with him.

And you did.

It was all of that that had led up to all of this. This being your attendance to a dinner at an F1 event as Carlos' plus one in Barcelona. He couldn't hide a beauty like you. Besides, the Spain paps had already managed to weasel their way into your relationshpi with Carlos. Most people thought you were dating. But Carlos had firmly laid the rule out as one did when you became friends with benefits: you don't fall in love. Neither one of you. You agreed for the sanity of your brain because you were far too attracted to the man to fall into the tricky waters of love.

"Holy shit, Carlos..." Lando swore when his eyes landed on the entrance of the dinner.

Carlos raised a brow at this driver, turning his head to the direction of Lando's gaze. He sucked in a sharp breath when he saw you. Every time he saw you, he couldn't be more thankful that he had eyes.

You had captured everyone's attention no doubt. How could they not look? Not when you were dressed in a light yellow satin material that hugged you in all the right places. Not when your neck was adorned in the diamond lariat necklace Carlos had brought you, hiding all the hickeys he had place there this morning. Not when the back of the dress scooped so far down that it only rested a few inches above your ass.

Christ, Carlos thought as he discreetly adjusted his tight pants. You were a sin.

You greeted all the drivers, laughing softly when Lily and Alexandra started to fawn over your appearance.

"I'm telling you, you are probably killing Carlos right now," Lily whispered on one side of you.

You rolled you eyes as Alexandra quipped on the other side, "Probably? Look at him. He is suffering."

You pressed your lips together, preventing a full-blow grin from washing onto your face.

That was kind of the point.

You tried to avoid as much of Carlos as you could because riling him up was one of your favourite pastimes. But in your endeavour, you felt a familiar hand graze your bare back, sending a warm tingle up your spine.

"All of this when we don't get to finish the night together? No juegas limpio, mi niña bonita," Carlos' lust-ridden voice whispered as his head dipped down, letting him place a small kiss behind your ear. You don't play fair, my pretty girl.

You gave him a meek smile. As much as you loved his compliments, they were starting to get you these days. The endearments combine with his actions were stirring up feelings that should be sounding alarms in your head.

"Jugar limpio no es divertido," You shrugged nonchalantly, trying to divert you eyes to the dinner. Playing fair is no fun.

"That's true." Carlos poked his tongue in his cheek upon hearing your remark. You reminded him of a firecracker. Always ready to burst and come back with something to say.

"You have to admit it is sad though, hmm? Because all I want to do is take that dress off you and fuck you. I want to make you cum over and over again till all you can call yourself is mine. I want to watch my cum fall from your pussy because you can't take it all, niña bonita. And then I want to push it right back in so you can walk around with it all day. Soon. I promise."

You let out a shaky breath as Carlos' breathing became heavier and heavier. You chewed down on your bottom lip, standing a bit straighter to discreetly clench your legs together. With a small smile, you turned to Carlos. "I hate you," You told him in the softest and sweetest voice you could muster.

Carlos grinned, making your heart skip a beat. He put his hands around your waist, his chest facing your back, and his chin resting on your collarbone. "Please. You love me."

You blinked blankly at the cold splash of reality that fell over you. You gave a dry and short laugh. You patted his hand with your own. "En tus sueños, Carlos." In your dreams, Carlos.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Mornings without Carlos usually meant you had energy because you weren't having your brains fucked out. But your usual opening of your socials had brought something that drained you entirely.

You stared at your ceiling of your hotel room blankly. Regardless of whether Carlos was awake right now, he wouldn't have even seen this. He didn't read any other news other than his favourites like ESPN or the CBS Sports Network.

You rubbed your eyes tiredly. What was this feeling in your stomach? Anger? Annoyance? Jealousy? You couldn't really put a finger on it and nor could you tell why.

You turned to plant your face in your pillow and let out a muffled groan.

How did you even get here?

Right. The grocery store.

You missed home. Home was an almost 2 hour flight or an eight hour car ride away. You missed when things were simple. When they made sense. Because lately, nothing had made any sense.

The thought of home brought you to the next train of thought: food. And as if on cue, your stomach growled at you with demand. So with the motivation of not starving to death, you got ready to have breakfast and headed down to the nearest cafe because hotel room service sucked.

Opting for a mocha with an extra sugar to counteract the bitterness in your life, you sat down with some a variety of churros and croissants to choose from.

Your phone blared it's default ringtone, capturing your attention. Your eyes flickered over the name and your heart softened and your bad mood had slightly eased. You grabbed the device and slid your thumb to the right.

"Buenos dias, mamà," You greeted. Good morning, mama.

You could hear her exclaim with joy, a sound you hadn't heard in a while. "Ah, mi niña bonita, buenos dias! ¿Cómo estás? No has leído las noticias, ¿verdad?" Ah, my pretty girl, good morning! How are you? You haven't read the news, have you?

You winced at your mother's pet name. You hated this. You hated that the lines between before Carlos and during Carlos were blurring.

"Sí, mamá, lo hice. Don't worry. It's just gossip. All fake," You told her even though you had no idea yourself. Yes, mama, I did.

You heard a sigh of relief from the other side of the call, making your heart hurt. "Right? I thought so. Carlos would never do that. Es un buen chico." He's such a good boy.

You could only tightly smile, agree, and be thankful you weren't seeing your mother in person otherwise she would've been able to tell straight away. You didn't know because all you had agreed on with Carlos was attraction. Nothing more and nothing less.

You caught up a bit with your mother. The conversation ended with her demanding a family dinner to which you told her you would see if Carlos had the time.

It was a simple conversation yet it was eye-opening.

You wanted that family dinner so badly. You wanted to be able to go see your mother and Carlos hang out. Hell, his own mother wanted you to call her mom. You wanted the stupid romantic things like dates, a person who would listen to you, the whispers of sweet nothings because... because you were in love with him.

Of course you were. Sure Carlos slightly had a quick temper and he wasn't that great at being emotional with you or anyone for that matter... but there was that saying: you like because and you love despite. Despite all of his flaws–because no matter how great a man is, he has his flaws–you loved him.

“Buenos dias, cariño,” A familiar voice greeted behind you. Good morning, sweetheart.

You turned your head, finding the root cause of all your problems stand before you with the most handsome smile.

"Carlos," You said with a slightly surprised tone.

Carlos smiled in return, placing a lingering kiss on the side of your head before he sat in front of you. The both of you waited for his coffee to be placed on the table before any conversation between you resumed.

"It's a beautiful day, no? I feel good about this weekend too. It kind of feels like everything is coming together," Carlos told you, raising his brows excitedly at you.

You gave a gentle smile, taking a long sip of your mocha. Slowly you placed the cup down and took in a sharp breath of air. "Carlos... can I tell you something?"

Carlos furrowed his brows and softly laughed at your almost worried tone. He nodded. "Sí, cualquier cosa." Yes, anything.

You looked down at your cup, fingers tracing the rim of the glass as you wondered how to start. Your mouth opened and closed, uncertainty closing in on you. Your eyes snapped up at the taunt of your name slipping from Carlos' mouth.

Okay... you got this.

"Carlos, I... I don't think we should do this anymore."

The crinkles in between in eyebrows and amused smile on his face told you that you had lost him. "You are going to have to be a lot more specific than that, mi niña bonita."

You chewed at your bottom lip. This nickname was getting tiring if he didn't mean it the way you wanted it to. "I mean us, Carlos. This... whatever this is. Friends with benefits... our relationship... it has to stop."

Any amusement on Carlos' face had dropped. He leaned forward, eyes narrowing as he tried to think back on how you had come to this decision. "I–what? What do you mean? Did something happen? I thought this was going fine... amazing, even."

"This isn't working for me anymore. I don't want to do this anymore," You shrugged with the pretence you didn't care.

Carlos grabbed your hand with his, rubbing the back of yours gently. "Is this the stupid headline thing? Cariño, they don't know what they're talking about."

"You didn't even deny it," You laughed softly as a bitter taste arose in your mouth and you slipped your hand our of his grasp.

Carlos stared at you for a while, unable to defend himself. "I don't understand. We agreed from the start that this wasn't going to be exclusive all the time. Three rules: it's open, we respect each other and we don't... we don't fall in love."

You paid no attention to where Carlos had paused. You shook your head, waving your hand in dismissal. "It's not that... I just... I don't want to do this, okay? Just leave it alone."

"Then what is it? I know you. You can give me a better explanation than 'I don't want to do this'. I can't leave this alone. Did someone say something to you? Did they do something? I swear, Y/N, if they did–"

"No," You quickly and sharply interjected. You took a deep breath. "Carlos.. I want more from you. I don't just want to see you every night and morning. I want to see you when we go out to have dinner. I don't want to be your sidepiece, Carlos. I can't... not when I feel like this."

The silence from Carlos was deafening. He struggled to open his mouth. His eyes twinkled with pain. "But you know I can't give you that."

Right. Carlos Sainz didn't do relationships. He was an F1 driver. They liked pass the parcel. And it just so happened, you were his parcel.

You nodded slowly. "Lo sé. Por eso lo siento. I'm sorry for ruining things between us but I can't do this anymore. Because if I do... I'm afraid I fall even further. And that's not fair on me." I know. That's why I'm sorry.

━━━━━━━━━━━

As much as you would like to say you were a responsible citizen who didn't make bad decisions when you were upset, you couldn't.

The offer of clubbing by some of the girlfriends of the drivers was far too appealing in your situation. Your agreement excited the girls because you rarely joined them on these outings because you were too caught up with a certain Spaniard. Granted they didn't know the real reason behind why you were so ready to join them but what they didn't know wouldn't hurt them.

As you arrived to the club, Lily let out a low whistle when she laid eyes on you. "How do you say hot as fuck in Spanish? Because my oh my you are hot as fuck right now."

She wasn't wrong. You felt hot as fuck right now. It was a warm night in Barcelona and the sexy black long sleeve mini dress, the same one you reserved for Carlos, was staring at you, begging for you to take it out of your suitcase. It stuck to your curves, it had some scandalous cuts, and it was backless. A perfect dress for Carlos? Sure. But a perfect dress to let go of yourself in a club.

You almost snorted at the golfer's theatrics but instead you opted for a flutter of your eyelashes and a stretch of your hand. "Oh dear madam, you flatter me!" You thanked her in a poorly imitated British accent.

Heidi and Alexandra laughed quietly as Lily rolled her eyes before grabbing your hands. "Let's go! I need some tequila!"

Quickly all four of you were by the bar, taking shots of cava (Spanish wine) instead of tequila. Well, you watched them take shots of cava. You may not be having the best day in the world but you were smart and sober enough to know that you and alcohol was not a good mix right now. And all the pleas of these girls could not convince you to do it.

Soon enough, you were all on the dance floor. The club couldn't be more of a club: sweaty bodies dancing on each other, old 2000s' music thrumming so loudly that you would think it was coursing through your veins, neon lights flashing rapidly across the room.

You... you were a vixen, dancing your way through all the bodies, relishing in all the lingering eyes you had captured. Every move you made was unintentionally alluring; your long tresses grazing your skin seductively, sticking to your skin at times as the humidity of the club made you shimmer in the flickering lights while you controlled the pulsing rhythm.

Lily, Heidi, and Alexandra watched in a shortly-lived awe before their eyes widened as a guy behind you edged closer to you. You could feel his breath brush pass the nape of your neck while the heat of his body began to circle you as his chest neared your back.

You couldn't feel a damn shiver down your spine that made you feel good as you once did but you weren't sure if you care that much. With the music blaring and your urge to escape reality without a sip of alcohol, you got closer to the man.

Dancing slowly to the music, you moved your ass closer to the man, feeling his hand lay on your waist. Your head fell back on to his should as he began grind his body into you. You squinted at the purple and pink lights floating in the air, frustrated. Why wasn't your body reacting the way you wanted it to?

The man's lips ghosted over the shell over your ear and he whispered, "Let's get out of here, baby."

Your mouth opened to respond but before you could let out a syllable, you felt the man's presence disappear and a hand grab your forearm, pulling you towards them.

You snapped your eyes to the figure, eyes widening slightly at the familiar brown locks, flushed cheeks, and the same chocolate eyes. Only those eyes were far darker. The host of pure craze.

"Carlos–"

"I think she's fine. You can leave," Carlos said curtly, ignoring your call of his name, brown eyes firmly planted on the stranger.

The man, sensing Carlos' anger and annoyance, held his arms up in defence and walked away.

Without looking at you, Carlos held his rigid grip on your arm and hastily walked you out of this club with heavy steps. You could spot the trio of girls nearby whispering their apologies, concerns, and how they forgot to mention they invited the guys.

"Carlos," You called wearily, watching him open the door of his Ferrari.

"Entra," He looked over at the door, waiting for you expectedly as he leaned on the car. Get in.

"What? No, Carlos, let's talk about this–"

"Get in the damn car and then we'll talk about this."

You let out a huff at the absolute resolve Carlos sported on his face. With a clenched jaw, you dipped down into the Ferrari, immediately finding the comfort in the familiar seat. You peered over towards Carlos, who was walking to the driver's seat.

Fucking hell. What had you gotten yourself into?

Silently, Carlos slammed the door shut. He took a glance at you and sighed before reaching out to grab your seatbelt and click it into place. The cologne you had gotten to used to infiltrated your nose as heat radiated off of his body. Putting the car into drive, Carlos was off onto the streets.

━━━━━━━━━━━

The ride to your hotel was fast. Carlos was well over the speed limit and all the buildings zipped past you like lightning. It was unnerving to see the combination of speed, silence, and anger in Carlos but you were lying to yourself if you said you didn't find it somewhat attractive. Carlos' hands firmly on the wheel, his taut jaw, hardened eyes... God, you were awful.

Not wanting to cause any commotion for all the gossiping fans, you both quietly arrived to your hotel room. You both took off your shoes silently by the door. You took a little longer, fiddling with the straps of your heels in hope to by you some time to think of something... anything to say.

With nothing coming to mind, you turned around to Carlos standing in front of you. His brown eyes stared hard at you while he chewed the inner corner of his mouth. You let out a small exhale when you felt his hand caress your cheek, the soft pad of his thumb pulling down your bottom lip.

"Carlos..." You called once again.

Carlos momentarily closed his eyes at the feeling of your breath against his hand. "We barely finished our conversation this morning and you were going to fuck some stranger? Hmm?"

"I–" You wanted to say no. You really did. But you weren't raised a liar. "Yes. I was," You stated almost apathetically. You returned his sharp stare with a pointed look. "What is it to you?"

Carlos sucked in a sharp breath of air. His other hand snaked around your waist, pulling you so you were flushed against him. He pushed down the grin that was beginning to form once he felt your hardened nipples against his chest. He dipped his head down to your ear. "Say it again. I dare you. Try it again and see if I won't fuck you and edge you over and over again."

Your mouth fell open at Carlos' declaration while your pussy ached, clenching around nothing. You swallowed all the saliva that had gathered in your mouth, letting out a nervous incredulous sneer. "You wouldn't. You're driving tomorrow."

In addition to the three rules, Carlos had a special one of his own: no fucking the day before driving or throughout the weekend. Because of his addiction to your body and the animal he was, sex expended far too much of his energy and he knew for a fact that his team would be able to tell.

The hairs on your body stood straight and goosebumps began to travel down your skin as Carlos' thumb trailed from your lips to the valley of your breasts. His head tilted to the side, eyes moving from your tightly covered tits to your face. The corner of his mouth tugged up, forming a humoured smirk. "You don't think I will? After the shit you pulled? I made you a promise yesterday, cariño, and I'm going to fulfil it."

You let out a soft exhale. Your heart was racing in your ears. "Carlos... this isn't right. I meant what I said. I can't pretend like everything is fine like you. Besides you said it was open, right? You, out of all people, can't react like this."

Carlos' possessiveness was something you could never entirely wrap your head around. Sometimes it was there and other days it wasn't. He was all over a model yesterday and now he was pulling you away from other men? It was ironic.

The gaze that Carlos held told you there was something he wanted to say, right on the tip of his tongue. But he couldn't say it. No... he couldn't admit it.

But you gladly would for him.

"You're afraid, Carlos. And I don't blame you. You've never had a serious relationship, you never committed, you never fallen in love so I'm not that surprised. But you've got to understand that I can't stay with you like this."

Carlos huffed in amusement, shaking his head shortly after. "You're wrong."

You raised a brow. "Am I?"

He nodded slowly. "I mean you're right about the relationships and commitment," He started, ensuring his eyes were firmly planted on you, "But I've fallen in love."

Your shoulders slump at his admission. Great. This was exactly what you needed right now. "Y-You have?" You asked with a small voice and a want to blare some heavy music through yours ears.

Carlos nodded once again. "At first sight. In a grocery store. There was this girl. She walked in, didn't notice me. But I saw her. I thought she was the most beautiful girl in the world. She laughed and smiled with the locals and I thought that for a second I died and went to heaven. I caught her eye and introduced myself. She did the same–"

"Carlos..." You interjected, feeling your heart pick up it's pace once again.

But the Spaniard continued his story. "We complimented each other, we talked and joked. Then we went to bed that same night. It was perfect. And after we finished, the thought of losing someone like her scared me. It was so terrifying that instead of asking her out, like a normal person, I asked her to become a bloody sidepiece out of all things. Can you believe it? I was an idiot... an idiot in love. I still am an idiot. Because she told me she loves me and I haven't done anything about it. Well, till now."

Carlos let out a long exhale, eyes nervously darting across your face, trying to draw any conclusions of your reaction.

You narrowed your eyes. "I hate you."

"What?" Carlos spluttered.

"Kidding!" You broke out into smile. "I love you too, Carlos. Not as much as you though. First sight? You are down bad," You jested, trying to not let all the fluttering feelings swirling in your body burst out of you.

Carlos blinked blankly at you. You were unbelievable. He shook his head at you, feigning a look of disappointment as he pulled you towards the bed. The soft sheets morphed around you, lulling you to a comfort you had been craving ever since you had put on your heels.

You eyed the lust-ridden look Carlos had. "I was being serious, Carlos. You're racing tomorrow. You have all the time in the world. I'm not going anywhere. Besides, sex after a podium sounds nice," You offered, hanging your arms around his neck as he hovered over you.

Carlos smiled gently at your confession, heart warm at the thought of you by his side. He pushed your hair behind your ears. "As sweet as that is... I was also serious about my promise."

Carlos' leaned in, taking in one last glance of you before pressing his lips to yours. Goosebumps began to swarm every inch of your skin as his hands trailed down your body, finding your hips. If only he knew his tracks the way he knew your body.

You let out a small moan, giving Carlos a new access to your mouth. Your skin prickled with a new wave of heat that was unlike any before. Because this time you knew things were different. He loved you. And you loved him back.

You felt Carlos' tongue invade your mouth while his warm hands had moved to your bare thighs. His grip on your skin tightened as he revelled in the feeling of your plump skin rolling and burning in his hands. All because he touched you.

He removed his swollen lips from yours. The very same lips quirked at your whine. "You know this dress was driving me crazy?" He told you, planting his lips on your neck. His fingers skated up your thigh, inching loser towards your heated pussy.

Christ.

You leaned into his touch, losing yourself as he marked your skin with his love. His lips sucked on your soft skin with a greed the both of you had never felt before.

"Yeah? When? When you first saw me or when I was grinding on that guy?" You teased, running a hand through Carlos' dark brown locks.

Carlos paused, looking up at you with narrowed eyes. His fingers continued to travel, finding the soft and soaked fabric of your panties. "Niña bonita, you sure talk a lot for someone who is so wet from only kisses," He murmured against your lips as he pressed a finger on your cloth-covered folds and lightly grazed your clit.

You gasped at the sharp tingle shooting up your body. "Fuck, Carlos," You sighed, feeling a certain craving begin to settle in.

Carlos sported a grin that you almost wanted to smack off of his face. A feeling which only intensified once he removed his finger from your clit, leaving you breathless as he removed your dress. He sucked in a sharp breath coming across your bare body. "You know... going braless I get," He started while he trailed his finger down the valley of your breasts and towards your pussy. His finger stopped right above your clit. "But no underwear?"

You stayed silent, chest heaving at his touch. You were waiting for Carlos to push you right into the ecstasy you had been bordering on. "Carlos, please."

Carlos smiled at your strained plea, bringing his lips to your stomach. "Your pleasure is my pleasure," He remarked.

You watched as Carlos' head dipped down between your legs, hands firmly wrapped around your thighs. "Fuck, you are soaking, cariño," He called out, eyeing your glistening folds and feeling the heat radiate off of them.

You squirmed at his breath travelling up your spine. "Only for you," You rasped.

Carlos could only feel his heart pace as he watched you clench around nothing. His cock was flushed against the fabric of his pants and his underwear. Fuck, the pain was almost a dizzying as the arousal he was receiving. You were so good to him... oh the things you did to him. Good girls deserved rewards, did they not?

Your mouth fell open as Carlos' tongue laid flat against your folds, taking one long lap at your arousal. You could feel him smile against your thighs. "You taste so good," He murmured before plunging his tongue back into your warm folds.

He explored every crevice of your pussy while you hand shot out to his brown locks, pushing his head further into you. The obscene grunts that echoed in the room after leaving Carlos' mouth were nothing compared to the pace he had taken. He was devouring you; inhaling and savouring your very essence.

You removed your hand from his hair and the back of your head fell into the soft sheets. Your hips bucked against his tongue while soft moans fell from your swollen lips. "So good, Carlos, fuck," you cried out, voice straining from the pleasure.

Carlos took your praise as encouragement, pushing his tongue further into your slick folds while his thumb found your needy clit. He circled the sensitive bundle with a teasing gentleness that sent bursts of throbbing pleasure down your core.

A groan fell from his mouth upon feeling your hand in his hair once again. The slight tremble of your thighs and the clenching of your pussy told him that he was doing everything right. You were on the brink of losing it.

"Cum for me, niña bonita," Carlos urged, thumb rubbing your clit faster and tongue lapping at your puffy folds.

Your hips quivered against Carlos' tongue, thighs tightening around his head as your eyes shut tightly, finding a white light in the dark abyss. Your eyes watered while your mind became absent in your climax. "Fuck, fuck, fuck! Carlos!"

Carlos momentarily stopped his actions, watching your face contort in pure pleasure. You looked beautiful. Hot, naturally, but beautiful. The thin sheen of sweat made you glow and your swollen lips with the few traces of lipstick were a hot mess but he loved it.

"No, no, no," You mumbled in quick turns when you felt his tongue and thumb return not a return a single second later.

"I said multiple orgasms, cariño. You can give me another."

Despite your refusal and the slight burn of your sensitive folds, your body liked to betray you, convulsing once again. Your hips trembled against his touch while your fingers grasped the bedsheets tightly.

Christ. Carlos was going to be the death of you.

Carlos greedily and happily watched your overstimulated pussy grind against him involuntarily. By the last quiver of your hips, he gave you a warm smile, mouth lowering to leave a trail of kisses across your stomach. "Well done, mi hermosa princesa." Well done, my beautiful princess.

You gave a tired smile, feeling a little less than beautiful with your sex sweat-ridden hair and skin sticking to the sheets.

"Princesa, are you sure you can handle my cock? I haven't tired you out too much, have I? Carlos queried, half with genuine concern and the other half with a tone that was almost patronising.

You narrowed your eyes before giving him a sickly sweet smile. "Well, you did promise to fuck me. If you can't, then nevermind."

Carlos couldn't tell whether he was proud or tired of your shit. You were clearly tired yet you had a lot to say back. Like he said, you were a firecracker.

With one hand, he removed his polo shirt. His brown eyes bore into yours as he slowly removed his pants. His lips quirked at your sharp intake of air once your eyes feasted on the throbbing bulge in his underwear.

Your heart thudded against your chest while you sat up from your position and inched closer towards him. You looked up at him with big eyes, hand trailing down his taut chest.

Carlos heaved, feeling the you skim past his body hair. His tongue darted out, resting on his lips as he carefully watched you open your mouth and sink your teeth into the waistband of his underwear.

"Fuck me," Carlos muttered under his breath, eyes glued to you while you pulled his underwear down.

Carlos quickly removed his underwear from his feet and in hast movements, pushed you onto your back. He rolled his eyes at the teasing laugh that fell from your lips despite it being the most pleasing sound to his ears.

You looked at the Spaniard hovering above you, hand gently brushing his cheek. You smiled, running a hand through his hair. "I love you, mi amor." I love you, my love.

Carlos held your gaze, chest heaving at your sudden admission. He felt impossibly warm. It was like the first time he had met you all over again. He felt the same way the night you first had sex. He whispered, "Again. I want to hear it again, please."

Your eyes softened and your heart ached at his earnest plea. "I love you, Carlos. Forever."

Carlos stared at you for another second before bringing you into a long kiss. "I love you more."

You let out a small whimper, feeling Carlos' thick cock against your engorged pussy. You watched as his eyes became clouded with lust. Just rubbing his cock against your folds was an obscene high that made the both of you shiver.

The sudden jerk of your hips as his cock rubbed your sensitive and overstimulated clit made you cry out. "Fuck...," You moaned out, "I need your cock, mi amor. Please."

Carlos was so lost in the pleasure it took the slight dig of your nails in his forearms to ground him once again. "Me too, princesa," He grunted, selfishly grazing your clit again with his cock just so he could watch your hips jolt once again. Fuck. Your reaction drove him crazy.

Carlos forced himself to get ahold of himself and focus on pushing his cock into your pussy. Your hands fell to his neck, steadying yourself while a gratifying burn ached through your core. "Me estás llenando, amor. Muévete, por favor, Carlos." You're filling me up, love. Please move, please, Carlos.

A groan flew from Carlos' lips as he fell into your plead, hips beginning to rut against you. Your swollen folds clamped around him, holding a vice-like grip on his aching cock.

Your sweaty skin stuck against one another while Carlos brought this lips to yours, consuming all your lewd moans with sloppy kisses. He pushed his cock further into you, feeling his balls slap against you, making the most immoral and obscene sounds known to man.

With one hand placed on your hip, the other travelled to grope your breast. Rubbing your nipples in a circular motion, a shudder erupted through you, feeling your clit brush against his cock with each thrust of his.

Carlos looked down at you, feeling his cock pulse at the fucked out expression that teetered on your face. You could barely breathe with all the air escaping your lungs as the familiar white light edged near you. You clenched around his cock, signing Carlos that you were close.

"Carlos, fuck. I'm going to.... I'm going to..." You panted, unable to get out the words as the lust rang throughout your brain.

"You're going to cum? Tell me, mi amor, who did this to you? Who makes you feel this good, hmm?" Carlos beckoned, increasing the snap of his hips.

You cried out, right on the cusp of pleasure. "Tú, mierda, tú lo haces. Fuck!" You, fuck, you do.

Everything around you became a blur, your orgasm hitting you in waves of pleasure. Your moans were silent but your body said it loudly: shaking against Carlos' cock.

"That's right. Me. No one el–shit," Carlos cursed, feeling your orgasm in his cock as you clenched around him. A high-pitched sporadic whine fell from his lips, hips stuttering against you.

The both of you moaned as his hot white cum spilled into your walls. Your folds clamped around him, taking every last droplet into your pussy.

You fell against the bed with an exhausted sigh. You felt the bed dip as Carlos did the same. You felt his hands snake around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

You turned your head to the side, raising a brow at the chocolate eyes flickering over you.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, cariño. I should've never ever let you be in a position where you felt like a fucking sidepiece. You are so much more than that. The love of my life," Carlos murmured, pushing a greasy lock of hair behind your ear.

Fuck. This was a new side of him you were seeing. The emotionally available one. And you loved it. "Well, as long as I'm not a sidepiece again," You shrugged, laughing softly.

"Never," Carlos confirmed. "You can beat me with those heels of yours if I ever do."

"Hmm... tempting. Although the guy from the club looks so much stronger. Did you see his muscles? So big," You fawned, fluttering your eyes dramatically.

Carlos sighed, shaking his head. An amused smile spawned on his face upon hearing you burst into laughter.

You were going to be the death of him.

#mickyschumacher #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 smut #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz imagine #formula 1

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joelmillerisapunk · 2 months

Text

Italy ~ let go and let daddy

soft daddy!Joel x f!reader

Masterlist ♥︎ Soft Daddy Masterlist

Wordcount: 4,915

Summary: As your adventure begins, it becomes clear that Joel is determined to make this the best summer of your life.

Warnings: 18+, unprotected p in v, f oral receiving, lots of soft daddy stuff - like so much, use of 'baby girl, good girl, my girl, baby, daddy', reader has breasts and wears a dress, just Joel doting on you so so hard. The endinnnggggg 👀🤭

Notes: Hi friendinos! Thank you for waiting so patienly for this! I wish I could write them here forever so I could have them see more, but Joel has a short timeline to show reader the world, shining, shimmering, splendid.

Joel's song for this entire AU: To Be With You - Mr. Big

As you start your summer adventure headed to Italy, you can feel the excitement building up inside of you. You never expected that you'd be traveling the world let alone with an older man like Joel, a man you've only been seeing on and off for a short while, but as you think back to your time with him, you know that he's going to take care of you, and you can't wait to see what kind of adventures he has planned.

Joel's plane tickets are first class, and as you board the plane, you can't believe how luxurious everything is. You're immediately struck by the opulence of the interior. The plane is decorated in rich, warm tones, with plush leather seats and polished wood accents.

You notice the attentive service. The flight attendants welcome you aboard with warm smiles and promptly offer you a glass of champagne. You feel like you're dreaming. The most you've ever been offered on a normal flight is a packaged biscuit and half a can of cola.

As you settle into your seat, which feels like an entire room, you can't help but feel pampered. The seat itself is incredibly comfortable, with ample legroom and a built-in massage function that you take advantage of immediately. The entertainment system is state-of-the-art, with a wide selection of movies, TV shows, and music to choose from.

And just when you get settled, you're presented with a menu featuring dishes prepared by a Michelin-starred chef, complete with wine pairings selected by an expert sommelier. You opt for the seared scallops with cauliflower puree to start, followed by a tender filet mignon with truffle mashed potatoes.

Obviously the food is impeccably presented, and each bite is a symphony of flavors. You feel like you could get used to this. As the flight attendants clear away the food Joel suggests watching a movie together and after a brief disagreement about which one to choose, him wanting action, you wanting something a little less intense, he finally relents and decides on watching "The Notebook," a movie that he knows you love. However, he takes forever trying to line up the movie on his device so that it plays at the exact same time as yours.

"Come on, Joel. Just press play already," you say, giggling.

"Okay, okay. But I want to make sure we're synced up perfectly," he responds, trying to fix the timing one last time. “Okay press play on yours in -” he pauses to look over at your screen and then back at his, “in 5 seconds.”

“Yes sir.” You wink at him.

Finally, he presses play, and as the movie progresses, you find yourself getting lost in the story you laugh, you cry, and you even find yourself holding Joel's hand during the more emotional scenes. Joel is surprisingly engaged in the movie, laughing at all the right moments and making thoughtful comments about the characters and their motivations.

You can't help but feel a warm glow spreading through your chest as you listen to him. You've never felt this close to anyone before - not like this, at least. You find yourself getting lost in Joel's gaze, the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, the way you can almost hear a southern twang when he laughs too hard.

He suddenly glances over, looking at you, his eyes are filled with warmth and tenderness. You feel a flutter in your chest, and you can't help but smile.

"What?" he asks, grinning.

"Nothing. I just... I'm happy,"

"Me too, darlin'. Me too," he says. "I'm glad you're here with me.”

"Me too," you whisper, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you.

Throughout the rest of the flight, you're constantly amazed by the level of service. The flight attendants anticipate your every need, making sure your glass is always full and your needs are met. Even the bathroom is luxurious, with plush towels and premium skincare products.

As you prepare to land, it's clear that Joel has pulled out all the stops to make this trip unforgettable.

When you arrive, Joel has arranged for a private car to take you to your destination and as you ride through the winding streets of Italy, you can't help but feel like you're in some kind of dream.

When you step out of the car, you're immediately struck by the beauty of the where youre staying. The architecture is a stunning blend of modern and traditional Italian styles, with intricate details and ornate accents that reflect the country's rich history. The grounds are immaculately maintained, with lush gardens, sprawling lawns, and a picturesque courtyard. As you enter the lobby, you're greeted by a warm, inviting atmosphere.

The hotel staff is impeccably attired, with friendly smiles and welcoming words. They escort you to the check-in desk, where you're presented with a chilled glass of prosecco and a warm, freshly baked cookie. The check-in process is seamless, and as Joel finishes with the receptionist, she provides you both with a detailed itinerary of the hotel's amenities and services.

After settling into your private villa, you can't help but marvel at the incredible space as you start to walk around. You've never seen a place so big. The living room is spacious and inviting, with plush sofas and armchairs arranged around a crackling fireplace. The dining area features a table that can seat at least ten, with crystal china and silverware already laid out for your convenience. The bedroom is a true sanctuary, with a comfortable king-sized bed adorned with plush linens and pillows. A flat-screen TV hangs across from it on the wall. The ensuite bathroom has a deep soaking tub, a separate shower, and a dual vanity area and is stocked with luxurious bath products, including high-quality soaps and scented candles. And just as you think you've seen it all, you discover a fully equipped kitchen, a home office, and a private patio with an outdoor grill and dining area.

The pièce de résistance, however, is the private pool off the bedroom, which features a stunning infinity edge that seems to blend seamlessly into the ocean beyond.

After you spend some more time exploring the Villa, Joel interrupts you, leading you out to a separate balcony that overlooks the ocean and picturesque view. He stands behind you, his hands wrapping around your waist.

You both stand there enjoying the moment before you say something, “what a beautiful view, huh?”

But Joel's not paying attention to the view. He's studying you, how you look so surprised and happy. He never takes his eyes off you when he replies, “sure is darlin’, nothing more beautiful.” He pauses for a moment longer. “Now come with me." He grabs your hand and leads you to the massively oversized bed and helps you sit down on the edge. He has a mischievous glint in his eye, and you can tell that he's excited.

“Alright, close your eyes.”

You do as he says.

He quickly starts moving a small table in front of you and positioning boxes and bags onto it.

You hear the rustling of tissue paper and your curiosity peaks.

“Okay - open.”

Your jaw drops in amazement. In front of you are an array of beautifully wrapped boxes, each one perfectly tied with a satin ribbon. In addition, there are bags from some of the most exclusive designer stores in the world, Gucci, Prada, and Versace. Joel smiles at your reaction.

“Joel, this is too much, I -”

Joel interrupts you before you can finish your sentence. "No, no, darlin'. It's not. I want you to have the best of everything. You deserve it. Just open ‘em, please." He says, almost desperate.

You look up at him a little unsure, before slowly getting off the bed like you're trying to be quiet.

“Here,” Joel intercepts with a box, he can still see your clear reservations about all of this.

You're overwhelmed by the sheer luxury of the items inside. There are designer dresses, shoes, handbags, and accessories, each one more beautiful than the last. You try on a few pieces, and they fit you perfectly, as if they were made just for you. But you can't help feeling a mix of emotions. On one hand, you're overwhelmed by the generosity and thoughtfulness of Joel's gifts. You've never had anything this extravagant before, and you can't believe that someone would go to such lengths to make you feel special.

On the other hand, you can't shake the feeling that you don't deserve any of this. You've always been a simple girl, content with the basics, and never really needing much more. You've never been one to indulge in luxury, and the thought of wearing designer clothes and accessories makes you a little uneasy, like a fish out of water. But as you look up at Joel, you can see the joy and excitement in his eyes. He's clearly thrilled to be able to share this with you. You can't bring yourself to disappoint him. So you push your reservations aside and continue to try on the beautiful items, smiling and thanking him with each new gift.

"Joel, these are all so beautiful. I don't know what to say."

"Say you'll wear them for me,"his eyes are sparkling with excitement. "I want to see you in all of these beautiful things. You deserve to feel as special and loved as you are, darlin'."

You can't help but be touched by Joel's words. You've never felt this seen or appreciated by anyone before. You take a deep breath and push your reservations aside once again. "Okay, I'll wear them for you," you say, smiling up at Joel. "I can't believe you did all of this for me."

“I can’t believe how damn good you look, baby.”

Joel's face lights up with each outfit change. He wants to help you try them on, but you force him to stay while you run in and out of the bathroom, piecing each option together.

As you try on the last item, a stunning designer gown that fits you like your fairy godmother had magically placed it on you, you stop to look at yourself in such disbelief that this is even happening. When you step out, Joel takes your hand and spins you around, looking you up and down.

"Better call NASA because you're out of this world, darlin." Joel's face is filled with admiration as he takes in your appearance. "Wow, just wow, takin’ my breath away. Can't wait to show you off."

You feel your body get warm with pleasure at his words. You've never felt this beautiful before. The dress really is stunning, and it makes you feel like a million bucks.

After trying on all of the beautiful clothing and accessories, you and Joel decide to head out for a romantic dinner at a local Italian restaurant. The food is delicious, and the atmosphere is warm and intimate. You can't help but feel grateful for this amazing experience and for the man sitting across from you. As the night wears on, you can see the exhaustion setting in on Joel's face. He's been going nonstop since you arrived, making sure every detail of your trip is perfect.

"Joel, why don't we head back to the hotel? You look exhausted," you suggest.

"I am a bit tired, darlin'. But I don't want the night to end just yet. How ‘bout we head back and I'll run you a bath?"

You can't help but feel a surge of love for this man. He's always taking care of you, always making sure you're happy and comfortable. "Only if you join me," you say, smiling at him.

“Wouldn't have it any other way.”

As you make your way back to the hotel, you can feel the tiredness setting in on your own body as well. The day has been a whirlwind of excitement and new experiences, and you're looking forward to a relaxing bath.

When you arrive back at the villa, Joel guides you to the bed. You sit on the edge, feeling the comforting pull of the bed beneath you. You're about to reach for your shoes, but Joel grabs your wrist and kneels down in front of you. “Let daddy take care of you.”

Joel starts to undress you slowly, taking his time to savor every moment. As he removes your shoes, he kisses your feet gently, causing you to giggle and squirm with delight. He then moves up to your legs, gently rolling down your stockings and kissing your thighs as he goes.

“You deserve to be taken care of, baby girl. You've had a long day, wanna make sure you're comfortable."

"Thank you, Daddy," you say, smiling down at him.

Joel's face lights up at your words. He stands up and takes your hand to help you to your feet, he turns you so your back is facing him and he slowly unzips the your dress, his fingers brushing against your skin as he goes. The fabric slides off your shoulders, revealing your bare skin underneath. Joel can't help but let out a low whistle as he takes in your bare shoulders and the curve of your back.

"You're so beautiful, darlin',"

He helps you step out of the dress, carefully folding it and setting it aside. He then turns his attention back to you, slowly sliding your bra straps down your arms, and unclasping it in the back. Then he works your panties off. You feel a shiver of pleasure run down your spine as he undresses you. It's like he's worshipping your body.

Once you're completely naked, Joel helps you onto the bed, covering you with a soft blanket and tucking you in. He leans down to kiss your forehead, his lips lingering on your skin. "Be right back, darlin'. I'm gonna run you a bath and get everything ready," he murmurs.

You nod, feeling a sense of warmth and safety spreading through your chest. You snuggle deeper into the blankets, your mind drifting as you wait for Joel to return.

Joel returns carrying two flutes of champagne. He sets them down on the bedside table and then helps you up from the bed. He grabs the drinks, and you make your way to the bathroom. The tub is filled with steaming hot water and scented bubbles. Candles flicker on the edges, casting a warm, inviting glow.

Joel holds your hand as you step into the tub, making sure you don't slip. Once you're settled in, he hands you a champagne flute. "For you, my love," he says, his eyes sparkling with affection.

The name catches you off guard. He's never called you something so - relationshipy. But you try not to think too much about that and take a sip of the champagne, feeling the bubbles dance on your tongue. It's the perfect complement to the warm, soothing water.

Joel joins you in the bathtub. He sits down behind you, his legs on either side of your body. He takes the washcloth and begins to gently wash your body, starting at your shoulders. His touch is tender and loving, and you can feel your body relax under his ministrations.

As he washes you, he praises you, telling you how beautiful and sexy you are. He tells you how much he loves your body and how much he loves being with you. His words are like a balm to your soul. He moves up to your hair, massaging your scalp with his fingers. It feels so good that you can't help but let out a soft moan. Joel smiles. "That's it, darlin'. Let go and let daddy take care of you.” As he moves down and washes your neck, he leans in to press a soft kiss to your skin, causing you to shiver with pleasure.

"You like that, baby girl?" he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Yes, daddy, feels so good," you whisper.

Joel smiles, pleased with your response. He continues to wash you, moving down to your shoulders and arms. Massaging your muscles with the washcloth, helping to ease any tension or knots. His hands move down to your chest. He washes your breasts gently, taking care to avoid your nipples. You can feel your body responding to his touch, your breasts feeling sensitive.

"Daddy.." you moan, your voice filled with longing.

"I know, baby," Joel replies, his voice low and husky. "But, I want to take care of you first. You deserve to be pampered."

He moves down to your stomach and hips. He's meticulous and thorough, making sure to cover every inch of you. As he reaches your thighs, he pauses for a moment, his fingers lingering on your skin.

"Can I wash you here, darlin'?".

“Yes please.” You're so turned on that you can feel yourself trembling with anticipation. Joel smiles, pleased with your response. He washes you gently, his fingers exploring your folds with care.

His fingers keep rubbing over your clit again and again, and you can feel yourself getting closer to the edge. "Daddy, I'm gonna... I'm gonna..." you moan, unable to finish your sentence.

"Shhh s'okay," Joel replies, his voice soothing, as he kisses the top of your head. "I've got you baby."

With those words, you let yourself go, your body shuddering with pleasure. Joel holds you close, his free arm wrapped around you as he whispers into your ear as you come down from your high, “there's my good girl, always so good for me.”

As you come down from your orgasm, you can't help but feel a little embarrassed at how loudly you moaned. But Joel's gentle touch and soothing words help to put you at ease.

"You're so beautiful when you come, princess," he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder.

—

As the water starts to cool, Joel helps you out of the tub and wraps you in a soft, fluffy towel and leads you to the bed, helping you to lie down on your back.

All you can do is let out a contented sigh as you relax into the bed.

"Does daddy need to take care of his baby?” he asks.

You nod, unable to speak. You're stuck in some kind of love haze, and all you feel is calm and euphoric.

"S'okay baby, you don't have to think about anything, just relax, let daddy do all the work.” He hums as he starts to massage your shoulders, working out any knots or tension that you might have. His strong hands move down your arms. You can feel your muscles melting beneath his fingers. As his hands move down to your chest, he pauses for a moment, "Can daddy play with your tits, baby?"

“Mhmm..” You lightly moan

He starts to massage your breasts, his fingers teasing your nipples until they're hard and sensitive. You can feel yourself getting wetter with every touch.

As his hands move down to your hips and then your thighs, he finds your sensitive nub and starts to rub slow circles over the bundle of nerves. Your breathing becomes frantic, “Daddy need you inside me, I- fuck -”

"I know, I know, my princess, but first you gonna come all over daddy's fingers, arentcha? Dont worry m’gonna take real good care of this beautiful pussy."

Joel's fingers continue to work their magic, building you up to the brink of ecstasy once again. You can feel yourself getting close, your hips bucking against his hand as you chase your release. "That's it, baby," Joel murmurs, his voice a low growl in your ear. "Let daddy make you feel good."

With a final thrust of his fingers, you come apart, your orgasm crashing over you like a wave. Joel holds you close, murmuring words of love and praise as you ride out the waves of pleasure. “Oh, I know, I know, I gotcha baby girl, you're okay daddy's here.”

When you finally come down from your high, Joel begins to kiss his way down your body, his lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake. He pauses at your hips, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin as he looks up at you.

"You're so damn perfect, darlin'," he says, his voice filled with awe. "Daddy’s gonna have a lil snack now, okay?"

You nod your consent, your breath hitching in your throat as Joel's mouth descends on your clit. He licks and sucks, his tongue exploring every inch of you as you writhe beneath him. It's overwhelming, the sensation of his mouth on you, his fingers inside you, and you can feel yourself building up to another orgasm already.

"Daddy, I'm gonna come again," you gasp, your fingers threading through Joel's hair as you hold him close.

"Come for me, baby," Joel murmurs against your skin. "Soak daddy's face.”

With a final thrust of his fingers and a flick of his tongue, you come undone, your orgasm shuddering through you like an earthquake. Joel stays with you, his mouth on you as you buck around, until the last aftershock fades away.

When he finally pulls away, he crawls up your body, his lips finding yours in a passionate kiss. You can taste yourself on his lips, and it only serves to heighten your desperation for him even more.

"Need to be inside you, darlin'," Joel growls. "Need to feel you wrapped around me."

“Please daddy, please.”

He gently caresses your cheeks with his large hands. The sensation feels similar to being in a sensory deprivation tank, making you feel calm and warm. His hands cradle your face like it's made of the most delicate china. “Shhh, baby, I'm here, m’gonna give you whatcha need,” he says before kissing the top of your forehead, letting his lips linger there for a moment.

He pulls away and positions himself at your entrance, his eyes locked on yours as he pushes inside, inch by inch. You're so wet, so ready for him, that he slides in easily, filling you up in a way that makes you feel like you're home.

Joel starts to move, his thrusts slow and deep. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper. You can feel the tension building up inside of you again, the coil of pleasure in your belly getting tighter and tighter.

"Daddy, I - I can't, gonna come again," you gasp, your fingers digging into Joel's shoulders. The feeling is incredibly overwhelming this time as Joel's rock hard cock fills your walls, it feels like he could break through and rip you to shreds.

"Yes baby, come for me," Joel growls, his thrusts getting faster, harder. "Come for daddy.” He never takes his eyes off you, “That's a good girl.”

As your orgasm crashes over you, you feel yourself clenching around Joel's cock, your walls pulsing in time with the waves of pleasure. Joel lets out a low growl as he feels you coming, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chases his own release.

"Fuck, darlin'," he groans, his fingers digging into your hips as he pounds into you. "I'm gonna come, baby."

You can feel him swelling inside of you, his cock twitching as he gets closer and closer to the edge. With one final thrust, he comes undone, his release filling you up in a way that makes you feel impossibly full.

Joel collapses on top of you, his heavy weight making you feel warm and safe and secure. eventually, he shifts his weight, so he's beside you and wrapping you in his arms. "My princess," he murmurs, stroking your hair lovingly. You look up at him, your heart pounding rapidly in your chest. His brown eyes gaze down at you.

Your hand reaches out, your fingertips running along the side of his face, his stubble scraping against your skin. Joel leans down, his nose brushing against yours, his lips inches from yours.

"Thank you," you say softly. You want to thank him for being there for you, for loving you unconditionally, for taking care of you, and giving you everything.

"There's nothin' to thank me for,” he replies tenderly. "I couldn't be happier than I am right now, havin' you in my arms."

You rest your head against his chest, your eyes fluttering closed. You're not sure how long you lie there, but eventually, you start to feel the pull of sleep. Your eyelids grow heavy, and your breathing evens out.

—

When you wake up, you're not sure how long you've been asleep, but you feel refreshed and energized. Joel is still lying beside you, his arm still wrapped around you.

"Hey, sleepyhead," Joel murmurs, his voice thick with sleep.

"Hey," you reply softly, turning to face him.

Joel's eyes are still closed, but he's smiling. "How'd you sleep?"

"Like a baby," you reply, snuggling closer to him.

Joel's arms tighten around you, and you can feel his heart beating faster. "Good," he murmurs. "I have a surprise for you."

You look up at him, your curiosity piqued. "What is it?"

"It's a surprise," Joel says, his eyes still closed. "But I think you're going to like it."

You wait patiently, your mind racing with possibilities. Finally, Joel opens his eyes and sits up. "Come on, get dressed," he says, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

You do as he says, slipping on a pair of jeans and a cute top. You're not sure what Joel has planned, but you're excited to find out.

When you're ready, Joel takes your hand and leads you out of the Villa. You follow him through the lobby and out onto the street. Joel leads you through the winding streets, pointing out different landmarks and telling you little stories about each one.

Eventually, you come to a small courtyard, tucked away from the hustle and bustle of the city. In the center of the courtyard, there's a wall covered in locks, each one engraved with the names of two people.

"This is the wall of love locks," Joel says, his voice soft. "Couples come here to declare their love for each other, and then they throw away the key."

You look up at him, your eyes wide. "That's so romantic," you say, your heart fluttering in your chest.

Joel smiles at you, taking your hand. "I want to add our own lock to the wall, if that's okay with you."

You nod, your eyes filling with tears. "That would be amazing, I've always dreamed of seeing this. "You say, your voice thick with emotion.

Joel leads you over to the wall, and you pick out a lock together. You engrave your names on it, along with the date, and then you secure it to the wall.

As you throw away the key, you feel a sense of finality.

Joel's face breaks out into a wide smile, pulling you into a tight embrace. As you stand there, surrounded by the love of the people who came before you, you can't help but feel a sense of unease and happiness mixing together.

Eventually, you make your way back to the hotel. Joel pauses in the lobby, “Hey, you head up, princess, just need to check on something at the front desk.” he hands you the key card and watches you disappear into the elevator.

He walks up to the front desk, “hello Mr. Miller, how can I be of service?”

“Just checking in for a delivery, small box?”

“Ah, yes, it was just delivered. One moment, sir.”

The receptionist heads into a room behind the desk, not long before coming back out with a small box in their gloved hand.

Joel takes the small black box and opens it, staring at the stunning ring nestled inside. He knows that he's found something special with you, and he's not going to let it go. He's going to make sure that you have the best summer of your life, and he's going to make sure that you never forget him.

—

Thank you so much for reading! Where should they go next?

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader

764 notes · View notes

coryosmin · 2 months

Text

Late Nights In The Office - Lawyer Coriolanus Snow x Secretary/Assistant Reader

summary: coriolanus is caught up in a case and ends up staying late. but whenever coriolanus stays late, his assistant and secretary does too. some late night work turns into something else when reader buys coriolanus dinner.

warnings: nsfw, mdni, unprotected sex, p in v, oral (f), fingering (f), pussy drunk coryo, praise kink, etc.

word count: 3,600

Being a secretary and personal assistant to Coriolanus Snow, your hours strongly depended on his. Truthfully, he was a workaholic. Being a lawyer, he constantly ensured perfection to all of his work no matter the case he received. And this case was no different. He was filing paperwork, gathering the evidence to defend a man who was wrongfully convicted of a murder he did not commit. Coriolanus was always a hard worker. He dedicates himself wholeheartedly to the things he is passionate about and that was one of the many things you admire about your boss.

Coriolanus was known to be many things around the office. Working for the Plinth Legal Services alongside Strabo Plinth and Sejanus Plinth, Coriolanus Snow was known for being a hardass. He was usually hard on his employees, expecting nothing else but perfection at all times. More often than not, he’s categorized as rude. However, to you, he’s anything but. Perhaps it’s the fact that you make sure you do your job perfectly. It’s the perfectionist in you that allows you to ensure all documents are filed and organized to Coriolanus’s liking or perhaps that you’re the only one who has memorized his coffee order (It’s strangely very specific). Coriolanus was kind to you, respected you, even flirted with you. And you didn’t dislike it.

You sat at your desk, typing up Coriolanus’s schedule for the next day in Microsoft Excel as you glanced at the time. It was already past the time you usually went home as the time was hitting seven p.m. You frowned, realizing that Coriolanus likely didn’t even notice the time yet. You got up out of your chair, soothing out your pencil skirt before making your way to Coriolanus’s office. Your heels clicked on the tiled floor as you walked. You knocked on the door, popping your head in to see Coriolanus wearing his reading glasses as he read the documents from the case.

“Yes?” He asked without looking up, keeping his attention on the file.

You stepped into the office. “It’s already seven p.m, sir,” you said, looking at the blond.

Coriolanus looked up from the file to the clock on the wall, looking at the time. “Oh,” he said before looking at you. “I just have a few more pages to read and then we’ll be out.” He said with a small smile.

You smiled back, nodding your head. “Alright,” you said. “Do you need anything?”

Coriolanus shook his head. “Not at the moment, no,” he said.

“I’ll leave you to it then,” and with that, you walked out of his office and back to your desk, going back to what you were doing before.

As the clock turned from seven p.m to eight p.m and then eventually to nine p.m, you sighed. At this rate, there was no telling at what time you’d be going home. And neither of you had eaten dinner yet. So you took it upon yourself to order food. You ordered takeout from Coriolanus’s favorite Italian restaurant, getting him his favorite chicken francese while you ordered yourself chicken alfredo. The food arrived within forty minutes, making it about ten p.m by the time you could have dinner.

Holding the food in hand, you walked to Coriolanus’s office and knocked on the door. “Come in,” came the muffled reply of Coriolanus’s voice.

You opened the door with the bag of food in hand. “You haven’t eaten dinner yet,” you said softly, looking at Coriolanus. “And it’s already ten p.m. I think it’s time you take a break, sir,” you exclaimed.

Coriolanus took a deep breath as he glanced at the clock and then back at you. As if on cue, his stomach growled, causing him to let out a breathless chuckle. He took off his reading glasses, placing them on his desk before standing up and stretching. “I suppose you’re right,” he said, walking over to the couch in his office. “Did you order yourself something as well?” He asked as he took a seat.

You nodded your head, placing the bag on the coffee table in front of the couch. “With your card, too,” you grinned, taking the containers of food out of the bag. You handed Coriolanus his meal. “Got you your usual,” you said. “I’ll leave you to it,” you said, grabbing the bag that still had your food in it and turning around to leave.

Coriolanus grabbed your hand, stopping you. “Stay,” he said, letting go of your hand and patting the seat next to him. “Eat with me?”

You bit your lip, nodding your head before placing the bag back onto the coffee table and taking a seat next to Coriolanus on the black leather couch. The two of you ate together. It was awkward at first, the both of you not knowing quite what to say. Until Coriolanus said, “You know, with a highly intelligent woman such as yourself, I wonder quite often why you’re nothing but a mere secretary.”

You were chewing as Coriolanus spoke, swallowing before replying. “Aren’t you glad that I’m your secretary?” You asked, tilting your head as you looked at Coriolanus.

Coriolanus nodded his head, cutting his chicken. “I am very grateful,” he exclaimed. “You’re the only person to ever do anything correctly,” He said with a slight annoyed tone as he thought about the incompetent people within the office. “But isn’t there anything else you’d rather be doing?” He asked, glancing at you.

You took a deep breath, shrugging your shoulders. “I’m not entirely sure, truthfully,” you replied, looking at Coriolanus. “I like what I do, even if I don’t have much of a social life because of it,” you teased, giving Coriolanus a small smile.

You and Coriolanus continued talking, learning more about one another. When the clock hit twelve in the morning, you realized that rather than getting work done, the two of you spent the past two hours doing nothing but talking. “Oh, it’s very late now,” you exclaimed, looking at the clock with a smile on your face. Coriolanus too had a genuine smile on his face, something he didn’t often do.

Coriolanus hummed in agreement. “I suppose it is,” he said, adjusting himself so he sat a bit closer to you. “However, I must say, I’ve been enjoying this time with you.”

You nodded your head in agreement. “I’ve been enjoying it too, sir,” you said softly.

“Coriolanus, please,” Coriolanus murmured into your ear. “When it’s just you and I, I’d rather you call me Coriolanus.” He whispered. He was close enough that you could feel his breath on your skin as he spoke to you.

“Okay, Coriolanus,” you whispered back, turning your head to look at him. Your faces were mere inches away from one another, just one movement and your professional relationship would be completely ruined. Your cheeks reddened at the close proximity, turning your head away and looking down at your lap.

Coriolanus, however, put his fingers underneath your chin, turning your head to face him. You looked into his blue eyes as he looked into your shiny ones. And without saying anything, he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss onto your lips. You froze, unsure of how to react. Your boss was kissing you. The logical side of you should pull away and scream “what the fuck” but the woman in you is screaming to kiss him back.

After all, Coriolanus Snow is indeed an attractive man.

After a few moments, you relaxed, kissing Coriolanus back just as gently. Your lips moved in sync with his as your eyes fluttered shut. Coriolanus cupped your right cheek while his other hand went to your waist. Your right hand rested on his shoulder while your other hand made its way to his hair, entangling your fingers in his golden locks. Eventually the kiss got heated as Coriolanus pushed you gently onto the couch cushions, laying down on top of you as the two of you continued kissing. He kissed you with more heat, biting down on your bottom lip slightly. You let out a soft gasp and Coriolanus took that as an opportunity to let his tongue explore your mouth.

Coriolanus’s hand slowly traveled up your body and to your chest, massaging your right boobs through your blouse. You let out a soft moan in the kiss, feeling your arousal pool in your panties. Coriolanus pressed himself against you. You could feel his bulge through his trousers on your thigh as he kissed you. He pulled away from the kiss to press a trail of kisses from your jaw to your neck. Coriolanus’s hand moved back down your body and underneath your skirt. You bit your lip, letting out a soft moan when his fingers found your clothed pussy.

“You’re so wet,” he murmured against your skin, his fingers beginning to rub circles on your clothed clit. “Soaking through your panties.”

You let out a shaky breath, nodding your head. “Yeah,” you replied, looking at Coriolanus. This should be wrong. He’s your boss and you’re his secretary. But how could it be so wrong when it feels so good? Coriolanus pulled your panties to the side, running a finger up and down your slit to spread your wetness around before inserting a finger inside of you. You bit your lip to avoid making sounds. Truthfully, you were a little embarrassed about how compliant you’re being under Coriolanus’s touch. Shouldn’t you be fighting it?

Truthfully, you’ve been wanting this for a while. Coriolanus was a very attractive man. Being 6’0, blond, a skinny but athletic build, you couldn’t help but be physically attracted to the man. Not to mention, his personality wasn’t so bad either when you get to know him. Yes, he’s absolutely a dick to everyone he knows, including to Sejanus who’s his best friend. But he was always so kind to you. Or at least what can be considered kindness in his eyes. So maybe you have always had a crush on your boss. But how could you not?

Coriolanus thrusted his finger in and out of you gently. You held back a moan, not wanting to make any noise. Coriolanus kissed your neck as he fingered you, adding a second finger and curling them inside of you. You inhaled sharply, biting back a moan. “Don’t be shy, darling,” Coriolanus murmured in your ear. “Want to hear those pretty noises,” he said as he sped up his movements with his fingers, hitting that spongy spot repeatedly. Unable to help yourself, you moaned, cheeks flushing in embarrassment from your noises. “So good,” Coriolanus cooed before sucking on your pulse point.

The office was filled with the sounds of your moans and the squelching of your pussy as Coriolanus fingered you. You could feel yourself getting close, arching your back in the process. “So close,” you said, practically whining.

Coriolanus smirked against your skin as he pulled his fingers out of your cunt, causing you to whine at the loss of contact. “I want to taste you,” Coriolanus breathed out, pressing a kiss onto your lips. He undid the buttons on your blouse, revealing your black lace bra. You watched Coriolanus as he took in the curvature of your breasts, admiring your form. “So beautiful,” he murmured, taking your shirt and tossing it to the side. Coriolanus licked his lips as his hands made their way to your skirt, hiking it up enough to reveal your matching black lace panties. He moved down your body so that his face was near your thighs as he hooked his fingers underneath the fabric of your panties, pulling them down. Coriolanus let out a shaky breath as he saw your glistening pussy. He took your panties off of you, stuffing them into his trouser pocket as he spread your legs.

“Gonna make you feel so good,” Coriolanus said, licking his lips in anticipation. His eyes were fixated on your pussy, as though already drunk.

“Please,” you said, biting your lip.

And without any further hesitation, Coriolanus took your “please” as a signal to dive right in. He immediately buried his face into your cunt, licking a stripe from your hole to your clit before assaulting your clit with his tongue. Unable to help it, you moaned loudly, bringing a hand down to grip Coriolanus’s curls, tugging on them. Coriolanus let out a moan against your pussy, sending vibrations through you.

The blond sucked and tongued at your clit, eating you out messily but oh-so-good. You relished in the feeling, not a single thought in your brain other than about Coriolanus’s skilled mouth against your cunt. Coriolanus’s tongue dipped into your hole, his nose rubbing against your clit. You moaned loudly, grinding your hips against Coriolanus’s face. “Oh my god,” you moaned, your eyes fluttering shut. You could feel your orgasm approaching quickly as you arched your back and threw your head back in pleasure. And soon, your thighs were clamping around Coriolanus’s head as you came undone on his tongue. Coriolanus groaned against your pussy, eating you out through your orgasm.

And when you finished, you relaxed against the cushions of the leather couch. Coriolanus pulled away from your cunt, his lips and face glistening from your juices. His eyes were displayed and glossy, most definitely drunk off of the taste of your cunt. He stood up, his bulge very prominent in his black trousers. “You taste so good,” he said thickly, looking at you.

You breathed heavily as you came down from your high, looking up at Coriolanus. “Uh…” you began, unsure of how to respond. “Thank you,” you said shyly.

Coriolanus smirked as he reached up to unbutton his button-up shirt. “I’m not done with you yet though.”

You couldn’t help the grin forming on your face as you looked at your boss. “I didn’t expect you to be,” you replied.

Coriolanus finished unbuttoning his shirt but kept it on, revealing his well-toned chest. You bit your lip as you looked at him. He then unbuckled his pants, unzipping them and pulling them down along with his boxers, revealing his large red and angry cock. Your eyes widened at how big Coriolanus was. You’re obviously weren’t a virgin. However, all of your sexual partners were not as largely endowed as Coriolanus was. Noticing you staring at his cock, Coriolanus spoke, “Everything okay?”

Your gaze moved from his cock to his eyes as you processed what Coriolanus had asked. “Huh? Oh. Yes,” you said, swallowing. “You’re just much bigger than what I’m used to,” you said shyly.

Coriolanus smirked. “I’ll take that as a compliment then,” he said, making his way over to you. “Will I still be able to fuck you?” He asked softly, making his way back onto the couch and crawling on top of you.

You nodded your head. “Yes,” you murmured, looking up at Coriolanus with doe eyes.

Coriolanus smirked back, pressing a kiss onto your lips. “Good,” he said as he reached between your bodies, gripping his cock and guiding it to your pussy. He rubbed the tip along your cunt, spreading your wetness around. You let out a shaky breath as his cock rubbed your clit. Coriolanus let out a soft groan as he moved his cock to your hole, slowly easing himself inside of you. There was a slight stretch, causing you to whine a little bit. He was bigger than what you’re used to so it hurt a little bit. When Coriolanus bottomed out, he stayed still, gently kissing your lips.

You kissed him back, wrapping your arms around his neck. Coriolanus stayed still for a few minutes as you adjusted to his size and when he felt you relax, he slowly moved his hips. He pulled away from the kiss to look at you. Your pretty face was looking up at him as he moved his hips slowly. “Truthfully, I’ve been wanting to do this for a while,” Coriolanus murmured, dipping his head into the crevice of your neck.

You let out a soft moan as Coriolanus began moving his hips, wrapping a leg around him. “Been wanting this for a while too,” you sighed, closing your eyes as your hand made its way to his curls, entangling your fingers in his hair once more. Coriolanus let out a shaky moan, moving his hips faster as he got into a rhythm. You both let out moans as he moved.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, baby,” Coriolanus said, kissing your neck. “Clenching me so good,” he said, burying his cock deep inside of you with each thrust.

You moaned, your eyes fluttering shut as you relished in Coriolanus’s big cock deep inside of you. It felt so good to finally be stretched out so well. “You feel so good,” you said, pressing a kiss onto Coriolanus’s shoulder.

For what was supposed to be just a hookup with your boss, it certainly seemed much more intimate than it should be.

Just as you thought that, Coriolanus pulled back, pulling out of you completely. “Stand up for me,” he said as he got off of you. Confused, you stood up. Your pencil skirt was still hiked around your waist and your bra was still on. Coriolanus sat down on the couch, motioning for you to sit on his lap. You complied, sitting down on Coriolanus’s lap. He wrapped an arm around you, using his other hand to grip his cock and insert himself back into your pussy.

You both moaned as you sunk down onto his cock. And when he was fully inside of you, you took it upon yourself to start riding him. You bounced your hips up and down slowly, your hands resting on Coriolanus’s shoulders for stability. Coriolanus’s hands gripped your ass, kneading at the flesh as you rode him. “Doing so good, darling,” Coriolanus groaned, closing his eyes in pleasure. “So fucking wet.”

Coriolanus’s cock, in this angle, was going inside of you deeper. You whined at the pleasure, loving the feeling. “So deep,” you said, bouncing your hips a bit faster.

Coriolanus opened his eyes to look at you. You looked so beautiful riding his cock. With your cheeks flushed, lips plump, whiny from his length inside of you, your tits bouncing in the confines of your bra, threatening to spill out. He couldn’t help but meet your movements with his own thrusts, holding onto you. He began thrusting into you, causing you to moan loudly. “You’re so beautiful,” he groaned, reaching up your back to undo your bra skillfully. The material fell forward off of your shoulders and onto Coriolanus. He grabbed the bra and tossed it aside, looking at your tits bouncing with each thrust.

As Coriolanus began thrusting up into you, you leaned forward, resting your forehead against his. He moved his hips hard and fast, making you unable to hold back your almost obnoxiously loud moans. Thankfully, no one else was at the office.

“Good girl,” Coriolanus moaned. “Taking me so good,” he said, breathless as he fucked up into you. “Your cunt was made for my cock, hmm?”

“Yes!” You moaned out. “Love how good it feels.” You could feel your orgasm approaching quickly as Coriolanus’s cock kept thrusting into that spongy spot of yours.

Coriolanus licked his lips, grabbing one of your boobs and massaging the flesh. “You close?” He asked. “Tightening around my cock so beautifully. I’m close too, baby,” he said, pressing a kiss onto your lips. “Gonna let me cum in that pussy of yours?”

“Yes, please,” you whined at the idea, grateful you were on birth control because you wanted nothing more than to be filled up with Coriolanus’s cum. “So close, Coryo,” you said.

“Oh I know, baby, I know,” he said, thrusting his hips a bit faster. “You can do it, you can cum on my cock like a good girl.”

And with a loud whine, you came a second time that night, moaning loudly as you arched your back. Your body was shaking as you came, your pussy gushing around Coriolanus’s cock. After a few more thrusts, Coriolanus came inside of you with a loud groan, filling you up with ropes and ropes of his cum. When you both came down from your highs, you slid off of Coriolanus’s cock, sitting down next to him on the couch as you both stared at the ceiling, basking in the post orgasmic glow.

When you both calmed down, Coriolanus turned his head to look at you and you turned your head to look at him. Neither of you spoke as you just let out soft chuckles at one another.

The following morning at work happened as normal as could possibly be. You had arrived to work as though absolutely nothing had happened. And when Coriolanus arrived, he acted as though nothing had happened. You both had gone along with your days. That was until around lunch time when you received a note from Coriolanus that wrote “Let me take you out on a proper date tonight for dinner, my treat. We’ll go after work. Come to my office with your response. - Coriolanus”

It was safe to say that Coriolanus Snow most definitely took you out to dinner at a very high end restaurant. Which most certainly led to him taking you home that night and fucking you so good that you were able to see stars.

#the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #thg #thg tbosas #coriolanus snow #tbosas #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x fem!reader #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x you #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow imagine #modern coriolanus snow

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wheresarizona · 7 months

Text

Old Habits

pairing: Joel Miller/f!former sex worker reader

summary: Back in Boston, Joel Miller was your favorite client who frequented your services, exchanging ration cards and other items deemed illegal for sex with you until he just disappeared one day. It’s years later, and now, by a stroke of dumb luck on your journey out west, you’ve found yourself in the town of Jackson and in close proximity to Joel once again, the two of you immediately falling back into old habits.

rating: E (18+!! This is smut. No y/n, porn without plot, reader’s age is unspecified but she was born before the outbreak, can be read as age gap, Gruff Joel Miller, Joel manhandling you, Joel ordering you around, rough sex, unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), oral sex (m & f receiving), come eating, deepthroating, vaginal fingering, spanking, dirty talk (a lot), praise kink, light choking, squirting, breast play, spit mention, first kiss, talks of sex work (we are respectful in this house), a hint of Possessive Joel, some feelings as a treat, smidge of Soft Joel at the end, a special appearance by Ellie who doesn’t know where Joel is (spoiler: he’s hiding in your bathroom naked))

word count: 3.9k+

a/n: This was a horny thot I wrote in one night because it wouldn’t leave me alone, and now I’m sharing it with you. Thank you to @senorabond for betaing!

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!

Masterlist

It’s happenstance you find yourself in Jackson—honest to god, dumb luck, and a series of fortunate and unfortunate events.

The plan was to cross the continent to Vancouver, B.C., where whispers talked about the QZ being a safe haven and not a complete hell hole like Boston. A group of you made the journey, and by the time scouts from Jackson found you getting close to their territory, only a few remained, and you all decided to stay in the quaint town.

That brings you to where you are now, not even twenty-four hours after arriving, and barely settled into your little apartment in a converted garage, naked and on your knees with Joel Miller’s hard cock filling the tight space in your throat. Drool drips down your chin, and tears fall from the corners of your eyes as you suppress your gag reflex.

It shocked you when he showed up at your door, having known him for years back in Boston since he used your services frequently, exchanging ration cards and other illegal items for sex with you. He loved that he could use you however he wanted, and you happily took it. He was your favorite client; then one day, he just disappeared—and in less than ten minutes of being reunited, he had you completely naked and on your knees for him.

Did you mention he was your favorite?

He’s still fully clothed, with only his pants down enough to free himself. His big hand is on the back of your head, keeping you on him while he watches from above. You can’t even take him to the hilt, your jaw pried open wide. He’s heavy on your tongue, smelling the clean scent of the soap he must’ve scrubbed with before he came over.

“Fuckin’ missed you chokin’ on my dick,” he groans. “So fuckin’ pretty takin’ it down your throat.”

Your fingers are digging into his jean-clad thighs, your eyes rolled back in your head, moaning around him, barely able to breathe. He finally lets you up, and you come off him, gasping for breath. With saliva gathered on your tongue, you let it drip on the tip of him, your hand taking the place of your mouth, slickly stroking him while looking up at him through your lashes.

“I missed this cock,” your words come out rough, tapping him on your tongue.

He’s smirking. “Yeah, baby?”

“Yes.” You nod. “It’s so fucking big and always filled me so perfectly.”

“I missed how your tight little pussy squeezed me—haunted my fuckin’ dreams. I can’t tell you how many times I fucked my hand thinkin’ about bein’ inside you again.”

What he says has you feeling hot, arousal pooling in your belly, your cunt throbbing in the same beat as your heart, wanting him so badly.

Continuing to jerk him in your palm, you dip your head down, licking at the thin skin of his sack before sucking a ball into your mouth, teasing it with your tongue.

“Fuck,” he moans.

You give the other one the same treatment, letting it go to lick a hot stripe up his shaft, the tip steadily leaking precum.

“On the bed,” he orders, roughly tugging you up by the arms to stand. “I’m not comin’ in your mouth.”

“Yeah?” you purr. The bed is behind you, and you walk backward until your legs hit the edge. “Where do you wanna come?” you ask. “My stomach? On my pussy? My ass? My tits?”

His dark eyes are half-lidded and burning with desire as he moves toward you with purpose, saying, “You know damn well I’m gonna come all over your gorgeous tits.” It’s his favorite place to finish. He’s in front of you, his large palms taking them in hand. “Fuckin’ missed these, too.” To end the sentence, he bends, sucking your pebbled nipple between his lips. You moan at the shock of pleasure that shoots straight to your cunt, pushing your fingers into his slicked-back, slightly damp hair.

The reason Joel was your favorite is he always made sure you came at least once—doing things he knew you enjoyed because he wanted to make you feel good. That was rare in your previous profession. Usually, it was all about the client, and your pleasure didn’t matter.

Joel’s a gentleman, though.

A hot, grumpy gentleman.

His mouth moves to your other tit, flicking his tongue over the hard bud; you feel your need for him dripping from your pussy to coat your inner thighs.

Suddenly, he’s straightening and pushing you back onto the mattress, pulling your ass to the edge of the bed. You spread your legs for him as you sit up on your elbows.

The tips of two of his thick fingers touch your lips.

“Open,” he orders, and you do, sucking them into your mouth with a moan. “Get them nice and wet for me, baby.” You massage your tongue against them, his lust-filled gaze watching intently. He shoves them further back into your throat, and you easily take them. “Good girl,” he rasps.

His hand leaves you, his focus locking on your glistening center. Dipping his head, he works his jaw to get saliva in the front of his mouth, spitting it onto your clit, and it drips all hot and wet down toward your hole that’s drooling arousal.

“Pretty fuckin’ pussy,” he mumbles, staring at it. The press of his wet digits between the lips of your cunt sends an electric shock through you that has you throwing your head back. He wastes no time, gathering the mix of his saliva and your juices on his two fingers, pressing them inside you.

A loud moan leaves you at how his fingers slightly stretch your tight walls. He’s pumping them in and out fast, crooking them to slide against that magical spot that blurs your vision.

“Yeah, you fuckin’ missed me, didn’t ya?” he asks.

“Yes,” you gasp.

It sounds wet between your legs, hearing the slide of his digits fucking into you, his thumb rubbing against your swollen clit.

“Nobody else made you come like me. And why’s that, baby?” he rasps, low.

The muscles in your belly have begun tightening, his free hand grabbing at your breasts and teasing your nipples, the sensations ramping up your pleasure.

“‘Cause it’s yours!”

“That’s fuckin’ right,” he growls. “This pussy is mine.”

He doesn’t stop his ministrations when he leans over you, his hand on your chest moving up to wrap his fingers around your throat, squeezing lightly to make you see stars.

“You gonna come for me?” he asks. “Gonna be my good girl and come all over my fingers? Let me have it.”

Everything comes to a head, and you’re falling over the edge, your back arching, body tensing, coming with a moan of his name. Waves of euphoria erupt from your center, spreading out to your fingers and toes as he continues working you through your high to help you ride it out.

“There it is,” he says. “My good fuckin’ girl.”

Your mind is hazy, thoughts feeling slow and syrupy thick, almost positive you haven’t come that hard since the last time Joel paid you a visit.

“You’re still my favorite,” you slur. He lets go of your throat as you lie back on the bed, blissed out.

“I better fuckin’ be,” he replies, removing his hand from between your legs. “You haven’t even been here a damn day.”

“I’m not doing that here,” you offhandedly comment.

It’s silent for a second.

“If this is your last time, can I pay for the entire night?” he asks. “They don’t have ration cards here, but I can trade for things you might need or do work around here. I can find some way to pay you.”

Your eyes open, squinting as you sit back up. “I’m not charging you for this, Joel. You’re not my customer here. I’m having sex with you because I missed you and want to have sex with you.”

His eyebrows lift. “Oh. Well, fuck, in that case, is this a one-time thing, or…?”

Raising your brow, you answer, “Depends on if you fuck as good as I remember.”

His eyes narrow. “I’ll fuckin’ remind you why you always made time for me,” he says, working open the buttons on his flannel shirt.

It’s off in seconds, getting a glimpse of his torso before he’s bending down to untie his boots that he kicks off when he stands back up.

Usually, he kept his clothes on, so there weren’t many times that Joel got fully naked when you were together in the past. With all the skin on display, your eyes take in the scars littering the parts of his body he bares—there’s a new one on his lower abdomen that someone clearly had to suture, the skin puckered.

He’s so broad, his chest so wide, seeing the strength and loving how his belly is a little soft. Your eyes follow the trail of coarse hair below his navel, leading to his hard cock, bobbing between his legs as he pushes down his jeans and gets them off.

He’s incredibly attractive, and yet you have no idea his age, never asking because it wasn’t any of your business, but now he’s no longer your paying client.

“How old are you?” you ask.

Standing at his full height, you watch him spit onto his fingers, using them to languidly stroke over his cock.

“Fifty-eight.”

“You look fantastic for your age.”

“Thanks.” His eyes meet yours, and he’s moving forward to drag himself through your wet slit. “How old are you?”

“Not fifty-eight.” You wink. “I’ll tell you if you buy me a drink.”

“Deal.”

Apparently, he’s done talking, notching himself at your entrance and snapping his hips forward to bury himself inside you in one smooth thrust. Moaning in unison, your hands claw at the bedding from how he fills you, falling back against the mattress.

He’s big.

He’s the biggest man you’ve ever been with, feeling the delicious burn at how he’s stretching you and so full it’s brimming on too much.

“So tight,” he groans. “Fuck, I missed bein’ inside you.” He’s got your legs over his arms to keep you open for him.

His hips bump into yours, giving you a second to get used to him, and you can’t get over how good it feels to have him inside you again; how right. Once you’re relaxed, he’s pulling almost all the way out and pushing back in hard. With how wet you are, he moves with ease, setting up a hard, steady pace that has your head spinning.

“Miss bein’ split open on my cock?” His voice is deeper, the words slipping through gritted teeth.

“Yes,” you gasp.

Looking up at him, his eyes are dark pools stuck on the jiggle of your chest, his eyebrows creased, and teeth bared. Sweat is shining on his skin, a flush working its way from his chest up his neck to his cheeks, grey strands of his hair sticking wetly to his forehead.

You press your tits together with your hands, tweaking your stiff nipples while he watches with rapt attention, licking his lips.

“You fuck me so good, Joel,” you moan. “I missed this. I missed you. You feel so good inside me.”

Heat is coiling in your tummy, winding tighter with every push and pull of his hips.

He leans forward, his pace speeding up while he bats away your hands to roughly palm at your breasts, pinching your nipples.

“Fuck,” he groans, seeing his throat work as he swallows hard, and you can tell he’s close.

All of a sudden, he’s standing back up with a grunt. “Hands and knees,” he orders, smacking your hip. “I’m gonna give you what you want.”

What he says makes you throb, excited for what’s about to happen. He pulls out, and enthusiastically, you’re flipping over and getting up into position with your knees at the end of the bed, sticking your ass out, presenting it to him.

His palm slides along your spine as he sheathes himself back inside, making you whimper at how much deeper he is like this.

Gripping your hips tightly, he fucks into you, slowly building up to a punishing pace, pounding into you like he’s finally letting go of all his pent-up frustration and anger he’s bottled up since the last time he was with you. Using you to relieve his stress just like before, allowing him to take it all out on you. His thrusts are knocking the wind from your lungs and stuttering your moans, hearing the slap of his flesh meeting yours and the squelching of his cock working in and out of your slippery cunt.

Perspiration builds on your temples, his body colliding with yours, and you’re in heaven. Your eyes are closed, taking what he’s giving you, pleasure cutting through you at the slick slide of his dick spearing into you over and over again.

A hand comes down on your ass in a loud slap, the sting making you clench and gasp at the heady rush you get, pushing back for more.

“Is this what you wanted?” he grits out, his pace never waning. His hand lands again. “You like this? You want more?”

“Yes!” you sob.

His other hand makes contact with your plump flesh, going back and forth until you’re mewling.

His fingers are digging into your waist, the heat at the base of your spine is growing rapidly. Your arms give out, and you lay your head on them, drooling from the onslaught—your heated skin is buzzing with every nerve alight in bliss, red-hot pleasure scorching in your belly, knowing you’re not going to last much longer.

Words are spilling from your lips incoherently, Joel grunting behind you, your entire body trembling, something big building inside you, thinking you might explode.

No one has ever wrecked you like Joel does.

You’re a mess.

A puddle of a person.

He’s so deep it feels like he’s reaching nirvana inside you with every hard stroke. Pleasure has taken over your senses as it grows and expands inside you til you hit your breaking point, shattering around him with a cry of his name, coming so hard, he gets pushed out of you with a wet gush that splatters onto his thighs.

A long, low guttural “Fuck,” sounds from behind you, hot ropes of his come landing on your fluttering hole and the puffy lips of your sex.

You feel wrung out, and there’s a possibility you might actually pass out.

Hands spread your asscheeks, humming in the back of your throat when Joel’s tongue licks through his mess, feeling the vibrations of him groaning and the scratch of his beard against your sensitive skin. He makes another pass and another, not stopping until he’s gotten every last drop of his spend.

He smacks your ass when he’s finished, the mattress springs complaining, and you jostle when he falls onto it beside you.

In the past, once Joel came on his place of choice, he’d take a minute to collect himself, then pay and leave.

What you don’t expect is him pulling you into his arms and spooning you from behind with his nose buried in your hair while hugging you close.

The latter is better.

Much better.

And simply nice.

It didn’t matter you both were drenched in sweat and other bodily fluids—you've been grosser.

Minutes pass where the only sounds are your labored breathing—ten, twenty, twenty-five.

“Wanna spend the night?” your voice is hoarse when you ask.

He nuzzles into you, squeezing you tighter.

“Yeah, but I have to be up early to meet my kid for breakfast.”

His answer has your brain screeching to a halt, wondering if you heard him right.

“What did you say?” you ask.

He turns his head to speak more clearly.

“I’m gonna stay the night, but I’ll have to leave in the mornin’ to meet my kid for breakfast.”

He didn’t have any children in Boston…

“How old are they?”

There’s a smile in his voice when he answers, “She turned sixteen last month.”

The math isn’t adding up…

“Joel?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you secretly have a kid in Boston I didn’t know about?”

You’d been to the apartment he shared with Tess a few times when she was away, and there were no signs of children.

“No. Ellie came into my life a couple of years ago or so.”

Around the time he disappeared from yours.

“Oh, she’s adopted.”

“And a pain in my ass,” he says in a fond tone.

“So, you’ve got a daughter now. Probably should’ve asked before I started sucking your dick, but are you seeing anyone?”

“No.”

For some odd reason you can’t explain, the answer relieves you.

“Single dad. That’s very sexy.”

“I’m glad you think so. What about you? Are you seein’ anyone?”

“Me? No. Been too busy trying to stay alive.”

“I know what that’s like. Do I still fuck as good as you remember?”

A huff of air leaves your nose. “Yes.”

“Wanna get that drink with me tomorrow night?”

Smiling, you answer, “I’d love to.”

There’s knocking on the door, and you’re wondering who would stop by after seven p.m., thinking maybe it’s one of your friends you traveled with or a neighbor welcoming you to the community.

Joel groans as he gets up, heading toward your bathroom while you grab a blanket off the bed to cover yourself.

Unlocking the front door, you hide your body behind it so all they can see is your face as you crack it open, finding a teenage girl on the other side.

“Hi, can I help you?” you ask.

“Hi! I’m sorry for bothering you, but I live in the house—” She points behind her with her thumb at the home you share the property with, “—and I didn’t know you moved in until Tommy told me at dinner and I wanted to make sure you knew who I was so you don’t try to kill me or some shit when I sneak out of the house in the middle of the night when the guy I live with is asleep.”

She said a lot of things, but what you’re stuck on is—

“The guy you live with…? Is he your boyfriend or something?”

The girl makes a disgusted face and gags.

“Gross!” she exclaims. “No! He’s basically my dad, but I don’t call him that ‘cause it’d be fucking weird.”

Your eyes widen, closing the door a little more so she can’t see past you.

“What’s your name?” you ask.

“Ellie.” Oh, fuck. “What’s yours?”

After introducing yourself, you ask her, “What’s your adopted dad’s name?”

“Oh, yeah, you should know that. I’m surprised he hasn’t come by to talk to you yet.” She looks around like she thinks she’ll spot him in the backyard. “I actually have no fucking idea where he is. Probably the bar,” she says with a shrug. “His name’s Joel.”

“What does he look like?” She’s entertaining, and you want to hear her description.

“Oh, he’s old as fuck and big—” She spread her arms wide, and you smile. “—but not in a fat way, like in a big, strong man way?” That’s accurate. “He always looks fucking grumpy or like someone pissed in his coffee.” Also true. “So, if you see an old, grumpy man who barely talks to you, it’s most likely Joel. Wait, come have breakfast with us in the morning and you can meet him! We meet at the mess hall at eight!”

“No, no, Joel doesn’t sound like a people person. I don’t want to bother him.”

“Everyone bothers him. You should still come. I’ll save you a seat.”

“Maybe. Well, it’s been nice meeting you, Ellie. Hopefully, I’ll come across this elusive Joel.”

“He’s a grumpy asshole, but he’s still polite and will definitely stop by at some point to introduce himself, which you should tell him I stopped by like a good, responsible neighbor.”

“A good, responsible neighbor who wants to make sure I don’t try to kill them when they sneak out of their house.”

“Yeah! You get it.” She gives you a double thumbs up. “Alright, it was nice meeting you!” She walks backward, saluting you. “I hope you’ll come to breakfast tomorrow!”

“We’ll see!”

With that, you close the door and lock it.

Turning around, you glare at the man who peeks his head out of the bathroom.

“Is she gone?” he asks quietly.

“I live in your backyard?”

“Yeah, I woulda told you, but we didn’t do much talkin’. Did she leave?” he asks again.

“Yes,” you answer, walking over to the bed and tossing the blanket onto it. You’re in desperate need of a shower even though you took one earlier, heading towards Joel.

“I can’t believe she sneaks out when I’m sleepin’,” he sounds genuinely betrayed, and you think it’s adorable.

“She’s a teenager, Joel. It’s what teenagers do.” Slipping past him, you turn on the shower, the sound of roaring water filling the air.

A long sigh leaves him.

“Are you comin’ to breakfast?” He’s still naked, his arms crossed over his chest, resting his hip against the bathroom sink.

Your head snaps toward him. “Do you want me at breakfast?”

There’s the tiniest smile on his face. “I want you for breakfast, but don’t mind if you eat with us. Just, uh—” He scratches at his mustache. “—don’t mention how we know each other…”

“No shit, Joel. We’re just old friends.”

“Yeah, old friends…”

“There you go.”

There’s a curious expression on his face.

“You really enjoy fuckin’ me for free?”

You snort, getting in under the warm spray and closing the shower curtain behind you—bless Jackson and heated plumbing. “Yes, Joel.”

It’s a bathtub/shower combination, and he follows you in.

Your face is under the water, feeling lips press to your shoulder from behind, blazing a path to the side of your neck, goosebumps rising on your skin.

Turning to wash your back, there’s an odd look on his face, his eyes a little bigger, not knowing what’s going on when his hands gently cradle your jaw.

A surprised sound leaves you when his mouth claims yours in a searing kiss—something he’s never done before and refused in the past. His lips are plush, melting into him as he kisses the air straight from your lungs.

It feels like there’s been a shift, the walls he always kept up with you crumbling from showing genuine interest in him without a payment.

There comes a point when you’re aching for air and break away with a gasp while his lips streak across your jaw and down your neck, sucking on your pulse point.

“Joel?” you pant.

His head comes up to meet your eyes, his chest rising and falling hard.

“I’ve always liked you,” you tell him. “If I wasn’t desperate in Boston, I never would’ve charged you for your time—that’s how much I enjoy fucking you. Add in you making it all the way here alive, and how cute you are when you talk about your kid; I like you even more. I’ve always liked you, Joel.”

He smiles, his eyes crinkling at the edges.

“I’ve always liked you, too, baby.” His mouth descends on yours once more.

Masterlist

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be tagged in my fics, please fill out the form in my bio, on my masterlist, or just let me know!

Tagging: @theorganasolo @absurdthirst @littlemisspascal @pedrostories @katareyoudrilling @iamskyereads @thefictionalgemini @lol-im-done @koryianders @flyingmushroomss @abbyhaslongshorts @savage-aespa @sofietargaryen @kpopslur @superflymaterial @virtuallia @shaunthesheesh @marsroxx @whore4dilfs @majdoline @mandowhatnow @autobotgirl15-blog @lentil-s0up @myloveistoolittle @squirtlebob @joliettes @aonungs-tsahik @javierpenasimp @thewayiknowyou @magic-magnoliaa @vanemando15 @eddiemunscns @gracie7209 @fan-fiction-floozy @butterscotch-mafia @deliriousfangirl61 @khaylin27 @notyourlovemonkey @a-wild-haggis @scorpiomindfuck @fandomandotherthings@seitmai @myswficlist @call-me-doll-face @fictionalmenloversblog @addisonnie

#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller/reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #wheresarizona writes

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mostlysignssomeportents · 8 months

Text

Apple fucked us on right to repair (again)

Today (September 22), I'm (virtually) presenting at the DIG Festival in Modena, Italy. Tonight, I'll be in person at LA's Book Soup for the launch of Justin C Key's "The World Wasn’t Ready for You." On September 27, I'll be at Chevalier's Books in Los Angeles with Brian Merchant for a joint launch for my new book The Internet Con and his new book, Blood in the Machine.

Right to repair has no cannier, more dedicated adversary than Apple, a company whose most innovative work is dreaming up new ways to sneakily sabotage electronics repair while claiming to be a caring environmental steward, a lie that covers up the mountains of e-waste that Apple dooms our descendants to wade through.

Why does Apple hate repair so much? It's not that they want to poison our water and bodies with microplastics; it's not that they want to hasten the day our coastal cities drown; it's not that they relish the human misery that accompanies every gram of conflict mineral. They aren't sadists. They're merely sociopathically greedy.

Tim Cook laid it out for his investors: when people can repair their devices, they don't buy new ones. When people don't buy new devices, Apple doesn't sell them new devices. It's that's simple:

https://www.inverse.com/article/52189-tim-cook-says-apple-faces-2-key-problems-in-surprising-shareholder-letter

So Apple does everything it can to monopolize repair. Not just because this lets the company gouge you on routine service, but because it lets them decide when your phone is beyond repair, so they can offer you a trade-in, ensuring both that you buy a new device and that the device you buy is another Apple.

There are so many tactics Apple gets to use to sabotage repair. For example, Apple engraves microscopic Apple logos on the subassemblies in its devices. This allows the company to enlist US Customs to seize and destroy refurbished parts that are harvested from dead phones by workers in the Pacific Rim:

https://repair.eu/news/apple-uses-trademark-law-to-strengthen-its-monopoly-on-repair/

Of course, the easiest way to prevent harvested components from entering the parts stream is to destroy as many old devices as possible. That's why Apple's so-called "recycling" program shreds any devices you turn over to them. When you trade in your old iPhone at an Apple Store, it is converted into immortal e-waste (no other major recycling program does this). The logic is straightforward: no parts, no repairs:

https://www.vice.com/en/article/yp73jw/apple-recycling-iphones-macbooks

Shredding parts and cooking up bogus trademark claims is just for starters, though. For Apple, the true anti-repair innovation comes from the most pernicious US tech law: Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act (DMCA).

DMCA 1201 is an "anti-circumvention" law. It bans the distribution of any tool that bypasses "an effective means of access control." That's all very abstract, but here's what it means: if a manufacturer sticks some Digital Rights Management (DRM) in its device, then anything you want to do that involves removing that DRM is now illegal – even if the thing itself is perfectly legal.

When Congress passed this stupid law in 1998, it had a very limited blast radius. Computers were still pretty expensive and DRM use was limited to a few narrow categories. In 1998, DMCA 1201 was mostly used to prevent you from de-regionalizing your DVD player to watch discs that had been released overseas but not in your own country.

But as we warned back then, computers were only going to get smaller and cheaper, and eventually, it would only cost manufacturers pennies to wrap their products – or even subassemblies in their products – in DRM. Congress was putting a gun on the mantelpiece in Act I, and it was bound to go off in Act III.

Welcome to Act III.

Today, it costs about a quarter to add a system-on-a-chip to even the tiniest parts. These SOCs can run DRM. Here's how that DRM works: when you put a new part in a device, the SOC and the device's main controller communicate with one another. They perform a cryptographic protocol: the part says, "Here's my serial number," and then the main controller prompts the user to enter a manufacturer-supplied secret code, and the master controller sends a signed version of this to the part, and the part and the system then recognize each other.

This process has many names, but because it was first used in the automotive sector, it's widely known as VIN-Locking (VIN stands for "vehicle identification number," the unique number given to every car by its manufacturer). VIN-locking is used by automakers to block independent mechanics from repairing your car; even if they use the manufacturer's own parts, the parts and the engine will refuse to work together until the manufacturer's rep keys in the unlock code:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/24/rent-to-pwn/#kitt-is-a-demon

VIN locking is everywhere. It's how John Deere stops farmers from fixing their own tractors – something farmers have done literally since tractors were invented:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/05/08/about-those-kill-switched-ukrainian-tractors/

It's in ventilators. Like mobile phones, ventilators are a grotesquely monopolized sector, controlled by a single company Medtronic, whose biggest claim to fame is effecting the world's largest tax inversion in order to manufacture the appearance that it is an Irish company and therefore largely untaxable. Medtronic used the resulting windfall to gobble up most of its competitors.

During lockdown, as hospitals scrambled to keep their desperately needed supply of ventilators running, Medtronic's VIN-locking became a lethal impediment. Med-techs who used donor parts from one ventilator to keep another running – say, transplanting a screen – couldn't get the device to recognize the part because all the world's civilian aircraft were grounded, meaning Medtronic's technicians couldn't swan into their hospitals to type in the unlock code and charge them hundreds of dollars.

The saving grace was an anonymous, former Medtronic repair tech, who built pirate boxes to generate unlock codes, using any housing they could lay hands on to use as a case: guitar pedals, clock radios, etc. This tech shipped these gadgets around the world, observing strict anonymity, because Article 6 of the EUCD also bans circumvention:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/07/10/flintstone-delano-roosevelt/#medtronic-again

Of course, Apple is a huge fan of VIN-locking. In phones, VIN-locking is usually called "serializing" or "parts-pairing," but it's the same thing: a tiny subassembly gets its own microcontroller whose sole purpose is to prevent independent repair technicians from fixing your gadget. Parts-pairing lets Apple block repairs even when the technician uses new, Apple parts – but it also lets Apple block refurb parts and third party parts.

For many years, Apple was the senior partner and leading voice in blocking state Right to Repair bills, which it killed by the dozen, leading a coalition of monopolists, from Wahl (who boobytrap their hair-clippers with springs that cause their heads irreversibly decompose if you try to sharpen them at home) to John Deere (who reinvented tenant farming by making farmers tenants of their tractors, rather than their land).

But Apple's opposition to repair eventually became a problem for the company. It's bad optics, and both Apple customers and Apple employees are volubly displeased with the company's ecocidal conduct. But of course, Apple's management and shareholders hate repair and want to block it as much as possible.

But Apple knows how to Think Differently. It came up with a way to eat its cake and have it, too. The company embarked on a program of visibly support right to repair, while working behind the scenes to sabotage it.

Last year, Apple announced a repair program. It was hilarious. If you wanted to swap your phone's battery, all you had to do was let Apple put a $1200 hold on your credit card, and then wait while the company shipped you 80 pounds' worth of specialized tools, packed in two special Pelican cases:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/05/22/apples-cement-overshoes/

Then, you swapped your battery, but you weren't done! After your battery was installed, you had to conference in an authorized Apple tech who would tell you what code to type into a laptop you tethered to the phone in order to pair it with your phone. Then all you had to do was lug those two 40-pound Pelican cases to a shipping depot and wait for Apple to take the hold off your card (less the $120 in parts and fees).

By contrast, independent repair outfits like iFixit will sell you all the tools you need to do your own battery swap – including the battery! for $32. The whole kit fits in a padded envelope:

https://www.ifixit.com/products/iphone-x-replacement-battery

But while Apple was able to make a showy announcement of its repair program and then hide the malicious compliance inside those giant Pelican cases, sabotaging right to repair legislation is a lot harder.

Not that they didn't try. When New York State passed the first general electronics right-to-repair bill in the country, someone convinced New York Governor Kathy Hochul to neuter it with last-minute modifications:

https://arstechnica.com/gadgets/2022/12/weakened-right-to-repair-bill-is-signed-into-law-by-new-yorks-governor/

But that kind of trick only works once. When California's right to repair bill was introduced, it was clear that it was gonna pass. Rather than get run over by that train, Apple got on board, supporting the legislation, which passed unanimously:

https://www.ifixit.com/News/79902/apples-u-turn-tech-giant-finally-backs-repair-in-california

But Apple got the last laugh. Because while California's bill contains many useful clauses for the independent repair shops that keep your gadgets out of a landfill, it's a state law, and DMCA 1201 is federal. A state law can't simply legalize the conduct federal law prohibits. California's right to repair bill is a banger, but it has a weak spot: parts-pairing, the scourge of repair techs:

https://www.ifixit.com/News/69320/how-parts-pairing-kills-independent-repair

Every generation of Apple devices does more parts-pairing than the previous one, and the current models are so infested with paired parts as to be effectively unrepairable, except by Apple. It's so bad that iFixit has dropped its repairability score for the iPhone 14 from a 7 ("recommend") to a 4 (do not recommend):

https://www.ifixit.com/News/82493/we-are-retroactively-dropping-the-iphones-repairability-score-en

Parts-pairing is bullshit, and Apple are scum for using it, but they're hardly unique. Parts-pairing is at the core of the fuckery of inkjet printer companies, who use it to fence out third-party ink, so they can charge $9,600/gallon for ink that pennies to make:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2020/11/ink-stained-wretches-battle-soul-digital-freedom-taking-place-inside-your-printer

Parts-pairing is also rampant in powered wheelchairs, a heavily monopolized sector whose predatory conduct is jaw-droppingly depraved:

https://uspirgedfund.org/reports/usp/stranded

But if turning phones into e-waste to eke out another billion-dollar stock buyback is indefensible, stranding people with disabilities for months at a time while they await repairs is so obviously wicked that the conscience recoils. That's why it was so great when Colorado passed the nation's first wheelchair right to repair bill last year:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2022/06/when-drm-comes-your-wheelchair

California actually just passed two right to repair bills; the other one was SB-271, which mirrors Colorado's HB22-1031:

https://leginfo.legislature.ca.gov/faces/billNavClient.xhtml?bill_id=202320240SB271

This is big! It's momentum! It's a start!

But it can't be the end. When Bill Clinton signed DMCA 1201 into law 25 years ago, he loaded a gun and put it on the nation's mantlepiece and now it's Act III and we're all getting sprayed with bullets. Everything from ovens to insulin pumps, thermostats to lightbulbs, has used DMCA 1201 to limit repair, modification and improvement.

Congress needs to rid us of this scourge, to let us bring back all the benefits of interoperability. I explain how this all came to be – and what we should do about it – in my new Verso Books title, The Internet Con: How to Seize the Means of Computation.

https://www.versobooks.com/products/3035-the-internet-con

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/22/vin-locking/#thought-differently

Image: Mitch Barrie (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Daytona_Skeleton_AR-15_completed_rifle_%2817551907724%29.jpg

CC BY-SA 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/deed.en

kambanji (modified) https://www.flickr.com/photos/kambanji/4135216486/

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

Rawpixel (modified) https://www.rawpixel.com/image/12438797/png-white-background

#pluralistic #vin locking #apple #right to repair #california #ifixit #iphones #sb244 #parts pairing #serialization #dmca 1201 #felony contempt of business model #ewaste #repairwashing #fuckery

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lanadelnegan · 4 days

Note

so basically instead of eugene its reader and negan finds it super hot that she's hot and has brains, and while she's explaining how to make bullets all he can stare at is how tiny her articles of clothing are and maybe fucks her in the building while the guards are right outside? love your writing

Ahhh i love this idea so much.

Smarty Pants

Negan x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, p in v, quickie with Negan while the others are outside

"And, so, yeah, that's how you make a bullet." You pushed your glasses further up the bridge of your nose, hesitantly looking up at the Savior's leader before you.

A smirk lingered at the corner of his mouth as his eyes slid slowly up your body before landing on your eyes. You blushed, realizing he'd been staring and silently praised yourself for choosing to wear a spaghetti strapped sundress today. It was yellow, your favorite color, and contrasted perfectly with your skin. You'd be lying if you said you weren't trying to impress him.

The only good thing about being at the sanctuary was getting to look at Negan everyday. Although you missed your friends back home, it wasn't so bad here. And, at least Daryl was here with you, even though he was a prisoner.

Your eyes flashed to Daryl, who standing behind Negan with cuffs shackled to his ankles and wrists. You felt an immediate sense of guilt every time you saw him. It wasn't fair that you got special treatment just for being highly intelligent. Daryl had just as much - if not more - to offer the saviors. The difference is, you were willing to succumb to them. To Negan.

Negan noticed you eyeing Daryl, making you nervously turn away and head inside. Before you could make it too far down the hall, Negan’s voice stopped you.

"Not so fast, smarty pants.” He slowly walked towards you, baseball bat in hand and your heart raced in your chest. You backed against the wall while Negan stood in front of you in a fitted white t-shirt.

"Darlin'. Have I properly thanked you for the service you're doing here?" His voice was deeper than usual and the sound of it alone made you wet.

"N-no, but no need, sir..”

"Oh, how inconsiderate of me." His voice boomed. “I would love the chance to show my appreciation to my sweet, little bullet maker. If you're up for it?"

You politely nodded and his grin deepened as he looked down at you.

"That’s a good girl." Lucille touched your ankle, stinging your skin but you didn't move. The head of the bat traced up your leg lightly, leaving a mark until it reached your sensitive thigh. You felt the bottom of your dress lifting as Negan watched.

"Like opening a birthday present, baby. Did you wear this pretty dress just for me?”

You nodded again, causing him to pull his bat away and lean it against the wall beside you.

“Can’t hear you, sweetheart. Speak when you’re spoken to.” He whispered in your ear.

“Y-yes. I wore it for you.” You admitted, earning a pleased chuckle from him.

“Yeah? You want my attention, baby? You’ve fuckin' got it.”

Your body shivered when his hand slid up your thigh and reached your panties. You were already soaked and from Negan’s reaction, it was obvious. He let out a satisfied groan before pressing his lips to the sensitive spot underneath your ear.

“So warm and wet for me already. Tell me what you want, darlin’.” He whispered, and you heard the sound of his pants quickly unzip.

"I want.. you to fuck me. Right here, please."

Negan chuckled and lifted you suddenly by your thighs, guiding your legs around his waist.

“That? Is exactly what the fuck I wanted to hear.”

He pulled your panties to the side while pressing you against the wall and entered you completely, not giving you time to adjust. Your mouth fell open into an "o" shape at how deep he went. You both let out a satisfied groan before his thrusts became steady and fast.

"Oh my goddd! It's so.. so.." You tried to finish your sentence but he took your breath away, so he finished it for you.

"Big. I know baby, and I am balls fucking deep in you right now. Taking me like a champ. I am so. fucking. proud. of you baby girl." He grunted while he spoke filthy words in your ear and you held onto him tight.

Burying your face into the side of his neck, you cried from the overwhelming fullness. Each one of his thrusts made your stomach tighten and your vision became blurry as you moaned loudly in his ear.

"Goddamn it, you feel so good wrapped around my dick. Who do you belong to?”

“You! Negan!”

“That’s fucking right, baby. You are mine.” He pumped into you harder, making you see stars as his hands squeezed your ass cheeks hard enough to leave bruises.

You could hear the guards talking right outside, knowing they could enter at any moment, but the thought of getting caught was even more thrilling. Your orgasm was coming quickly and so hard it made your eyes water.

"Ohhh fuck, I can feel you throbbing baby. Let me have it, cum for daddy." He sank his teeth into your neck, undoubtedly leaving a hickey.

“Negan! Negan! I’m cumming!” You screamed.

“Shit doll, me too. Fuck, fuck.” Negan groaned loudly as he came inside of you. He kissed you before setting you down on your feet and pulling out of you. Seconds later you felt your panties pool with his warm liquid and all you wanted to do in that moment was taste it.

"Goddamn that was exactly what I fuckin' needed!" He laughed, zipping himself back in his pants. "But I am nowhere near done with you, darlin'. How would you like stay in my room tonight?

"I thought.. that was just for your wives.."

"Jesus, I am so sorry." He said sarcastically. "I assumed you were one of them now considering I just fucked your brains out?"

Was he.. asking me to be his wife?

"Oh.. um. I mean, I want to be, so..." You paused, waiting for him to continue.

"If you're expecting a formal proposal, don't." He chuckled. "The only time you'll see me on my knees is when I'm eating that sweet pussy. Now sweetheart, we were not finished with our conversation outside. Let's go." He picked up Lucille and you followed him back outside, listening to his happy whistle as the rest of the group went silent and stared at us awkwardly.

Oh god, they totally heard everything.

"Continue." Negan demanded.

Simon cleared his throat and continued talking to the group. You shifted uncomfortably at the warmth in your panties, trying to focus on what they were saying but Negan's breath against your ear distracted you.

"Those panties stay on for the rest of the day. No exceptions."

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wandasfifthwife · 2 months

Text

nsfw alphabet ✩‧₊˚ competing series

hockey player/coach!wanda x fem!reader

tw || SMUT MDNI, mentions of kinks (strength, marking, etc), dom/sub dynamics, discussion of positions

ׂ╰┈➤ series m.list ✩‧🏒₊˚

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

- she’s checking in on you before she has any care to check on herself

- she’ll do anything, her priority is for you to feel secure/comfortable/loved

- after she feels you’re settled (if it’s not a quickie lmao) then she’ll want to relax with you. go to sleep? Sure. watch a show? Sure.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

- on her body it would be her arms/back/legs. she’s sporty and loves to work out, these areas are her favorite

- on you? she loves your thighs for SO many reasons.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

- after she eats you out she’ll be down there until your glistening with her spit

- loves to kiss you after, bonus points if you moan into it too

- Same for her, if you eat her out and then kiss her, she’ll loose her mind

- if you take her strap and you’ve become incredible wet, soaking it?

- She’d literally moan

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

- Has a cum kink if that’s not known after B

- her dirtiest secret? she wants you to ride her abs

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

- she’s had a few hook ups, but they never went any further than a one night stand

- so she’s pretty experienced

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

- missionary

- reverse cowgirl

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

- she’s intimate, but if you get nervous OR either of you do something silly (like bump noses or hit your arm on something) she’s not a stickler, she’ll laugh and joke about it

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

- she’s trimmed but not completely shaven

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

- okay while she is romantic/intimate, she’s a bit wild

- (your first time in the series is in a locker room shower)

- for special dates she can be more romantic if need be, but she finds the situation romantic, doesn’t care if the environment is

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

- Has a high libido

- (its cannon that she’s masturbated even after you two did it for the first time earlier that day)

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

- strength/size kink

- exhibition kink

- cum kink

- spit kink

- impact play

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

- she’ll do it ANYWHERE

- as long as you won’t actually get caught, she’s down

- (her favorite location was when you had gotten turned on during one date at a professional hockey game and she took you in the bathroom while someone else was in there)

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

- you.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

- she’s not interested in anything you aren’t interested in

- if it’s not one of the kinks listened, she’s not interested

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

- a service dom

- she’ll top like 60-70% of the time (unless you don’t want to top, she’s perfectly fine with topping 100%)

- she’s absolutely not opposed to you topping (she’ll still guide you through it though)

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

- she’s fast/rough

- the second hands are on her/you, she’s pulling your clothes off, so desperate to get you to moan/cum

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

- LOVES them

- She doesn’t care what yall do, but if you’re as down to do one as she is, it might happen too often

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

- touched on this before, but if there’s one kink she’ll be okay with experimenting with it’s temp play

- but she’s not interested in stretching beyond either of your boundaries

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

- she’s a rabbit.

- obviously there’s times when she’s not feeling it, but *overall* it’s like she’s in heat almost

- usually she lasts 2-3 rounds (there’s been one night she went 4)

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

- a strap and that’s all

- she personally doesn’t like penetration, prefers fingers/oral

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

- she’s not a tease.

- it teases her to tease, she wants to get right into it and immediately make your brain melt and eyes blurry

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

- she’s moaning, but she’s not very loud

- it’s bc she wants to hear any sounds you make

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

- a WILD headcanons is that she’s insanely good with giving head

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

- high.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

- she has a good amount of stamina (sports, working out)

- so while she does value sleep (the type to say lights out at 9PM), she doesn’t need to after. Especially not if you’re wanting to stay up.

#hockey coach!wanda #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda x fem!reader #dom wanda #top wanda #wanda x you #wanda headcannons #wanda maximoff x you #mommy wanda #wanda x reader smut

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fandomwritingbit · 4 months

Text

Curious

journalist (f)reader x William Afton

warnings: non con/rape, oral, p in v, threat, force, violence, murder/child murder, William is just vile the whole way through.

synop: you're tasked with researching the 'missing children's incident' and you have no idea just how dangerous that is.

A/n: mostly but not entirely proofread, because this is a fucking long one boys.

The moment your boss gave you the assignment, it pretty much engulfed your life. “The Missing Children Incident” as it was dubbed by the papers, referred to multiple child disappearances at a well-known children’s restaurant. You were excited with the task, thinking that finally you might have your name at the bottom of an article that actually means something. But you quickly figured out the reason you ended up with this story. The research was gruelling, nothing upon nothing turned up after hours of reading and talking to the parents. Well, the few that were willing to face a reporter. Your shovel hits rock every time forcing you to conclude that there’s nothing to be found.

That didn’t mean you were off the hook though, your boss was still up your arse with deadlines, telling you over and over how he ‘needs you to get this sorted’ within the week.

So here you are, your last thread of a story pinched between your fingers, the business side of it. You’re standing outside the restaurant in question, the name lit up in front of you with the r in Freddy’s constantly flickering, clinging onto the hope that the owner would be willing to entertain you. At this point you’re just going to transcribe the discussion and send it to print, as you’ve come to learn something is better than nothing.

Stepping inside you’re instantly greeted with the overwhelming smell of pizza, it’s hot too, the many bodies milling around inside forming a wall of heat that makes you ache to take your jacket off. You stop for a moment to just look at the scene, children laughing in that piercing screechy way that all kids can muster, running around with foam swords or handfuls of the coloured balls from the ball pit. You want to take a photo but it doesn’t miss you how weird that would be without permission.

As you walk around you begin to realise that it wasn’t anything special; tatty all over, the smell of grease and fast-food clinging to the faux velvet booths and garish carpet that laid in some areas of the restaurant. It was so painfully a kid’s place. You’re searching faces for anyone who looks like they have some sway around here, there’s the guards and the service staff but that’s not who you’re looking for. You know the names of the gentlemen who owned the place but there was a lack of photos available at the library, so right now you’re fully reliant on the powers of deduction.

Then finally you reach the Show Room and truth be told, you were impressed. It was the only part of the Godforsaken place that wasn’t caked in crushed crayons or old unremovable stains. It looked somewhat cared for, rows of perfectly aligned seats in front of a large stage, those hanging lights, speakers and all.

And the animatronics? Well, they were... unnerving. You couldn’t help but stare at them, they were much bigger than you’d have thought, crazily so. And good God, their eyes. You find your face twisted in disgust. Talk about uncanny valley, these creatures were fucking chilling. You can’t believe that the children are so comfortable with them, when you can hardly even watch their ‘show’ without a heavy feeling in your chest. You quickly avert your eyes, remembering that you’re here for work and feeling glad the very moment you can’t see the animatronics anymore.

It’s then that you finally catch sight of a lead, a tall bloke in a shirt and tie emerging from a staff only door. He has the bearing of someone higher up than the waitress he stoops down to talk to, so you take that as your green light, squeezing past a gaggle of children in your way.

You catch the end of the conversation as you approach, the man leaning on the counter with a face like a storm. “Oh okay, Mr Afton. I’ll do that now.” The server says anxiously, looking like they want the ground to swallow them up, they go to move away and the owner scoffs.

“Should have been done two fucking hours ago.” The waitress turns but doesn’t say anything else, quickly scurrying away to whatever task they’re being bollocked over. You wait a little awkwardly to be noticed, standing close enough that it should be obvious you’re waiting yet he doesn’t catch on at all, just continues staring sharply after his employees. So eventually you just sigh, changing position to be right in front of him.

“...Excuse me?” You try, feeling anxiety cool your veins. He glances at you equally as harsh, the annoyed expression on his face not shifting but dulling enough to be customer friendly.

He looks you up and down trying to figure out what the hell you want. You look too young to be a parent and too old to be a kid, his brows raise as he thinks about how young adults aren’t exactly his target market. “What?” It’s about as blunt as you’d expect and you smile awkwardly, feeling the pressure to be overly pleasant and steer this conversation to a habitable place.

“Are you…” You look down to the notebook in your hand wanting to make sure you get his first name right, “William Afton, the uh owner?” He smirks a little, trying to look down at the paper as well, and see what you’ve got written down that is clearly about him. He can’t manage it from the angle and you soon turn the paper to your skin anyway.

“Depends. Who are you?” That’s a yes, then, you think to yourself, though you already knew from your eavesdropping. This is beginning to feel like a bad idea, the vibes off this man are sceptical at best and the last thing you need right now is to be manhandled out of here. He raises his hand in an impatient shrug when you don’t answer quick enough, making you fumble for your work lanyard around your neck with your paper’s logo and then you give him your name.

He hums in such a way that you can’t tell if it’s good or bad, so you try to explain yourself just to fill the silence. “I was hoping to ask you some questions. About the missing children who were last seen here.”

At the phrase “missing children” his eyes swiftly find yours and you gulp, if he’s trying to scare you off it just might work because right now you not only wish that you weren’t here, but also that you weren’t assigned the story, Hell that you didn’t take journalism at uni. Your face must have betrayed you because he laughs, standing up straight.

“And what questions do you have for me, huh?” There’s an accusation to his tone that backfoots you even more. He’s struggling to keep the amusement from his expression because you must be a pretty shitty reporter to get spooked this easily. But that'll just make you more fun to play with.

“Just about how the uh events have affected business…” You’re barely sound professional and the owner still doesn’t look convinced, so you continue, “It won’t take long, 15 minutes tops, I can see you’re a busy man.” You smile at the end in an effort to sell the flattery a bit more, and as sweet as you look, he knows you’d probably jump out of your skin at the word boo right now.

He shakes his head slightly, not necessarily at you or himself, just at the situation overall. Course you didn’t come in an hour ago and catch Henry, obviously not, but at least this will get him away from work for a little while, which he needs before someone gets on his nerves enough to get fired. You stand waiting for him to answer, your lip pinched between your teeth, it’s that nervous habit that props him to say yes.

“This’d better be an interesting 15 minutes, sweetheart.” You sigh in relief, hopeful that you’ll finally get something to put in an article, but that relief soon evaporates when you realise that the work isn’t over yet. “Through there.” He nods to the staff door he entered the room through and you smile politely, walking over to it with him.

“Thank you, Mr Afton, I really appreciate it.” You quickly blurt out your gratitude as he types in a code to open the door, then holds it open for you, but all pleasantries dry up on your tongue when you notice his knuckles are skinned and badly too, it looks recent. Because you’ve stopped dead he looks down at you with a cocked eyebrow, grinning when he notices what you’re staring at. You shake your head at your obviousness, panicking to play it off somewhat cool.

“Accident at work?” You ask as you fully enter the much darker corridor, which only gets more dim when the door closes behind him.

Your smile is noticeably strained as you look at him for a response, he meets your eyes and just says, “No.” in a menacingly matter of fact way. God, you think to yourself, this guy is scary, how the fuck does he work with kids? You mouth ‘oh’, playing with your hands to try and steady the growing worry nestling in your gut. 99% of your brain is saying to just leave it and face your boss’s wrath, but the foolish 1% arguing that it can’t get any worse is much too vocal.

“Keep going. We’re going right to the back.” He pulls you out your thoughts and you obey, skin prickling under his gaze as you walk ahead of him down this staff hallway that seems to be very much lacking staff. The two of you continue until you run out of corridor, a choice between a room on the left or right making you halt. William chooses before you can ask, opening the left door and again propping it for you.

You smile some gratitude his way as you step through the gap, the close proximity between his bigger frame and yours making you shiver in something akin to fear.

“Are you cold?” He asks and you get the feeling that he’s mocking you.

Ignoring it you move on. “Uh a little. Cold and dark back here, huh?” You answer, happy that you did wear your jacket after a toss up about leaving it in the car.

“And quiet.” He adds, walking past you to take a seat on the chair at the desk in the centre of the room. This office is sparsely decorated and as intimidating as the man it likely belongs to.

You hesitate to sit yourself, your internal dialogue finally voicing your doubts about this conversation. “... You know, if you’d rather not have this conversation, it’s okay. I’d hate to think I've put you out…” You trail off but the man doesn’t say anything, just continues looking at you, a slight smile grazing his face. At his lack of reaction you shrug, exasperated.

“What gave you that impression?” He speaks with amusement, and you very nearly scoff. What gave you that impression? He can’t be serious, he’s been evidently unhappy with your intrusion since the beginning and it’s starting to feel like he’s just trying to scare you off.

So you say as such. “I don’t know, you don’t seem happy.”

William chuckles but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes. He’s been enjoying making you uncomfortable, the widening of your eyes has made his cock hard and he sure as hell isn’t finished yet. But he’ll reel it in for now, lest you try and leave. “That’s just the way I am, sweetheart. There’s a reason why I don’t do the radio ads.” He flashes you a business smile, sitting back in the chair.

You visibly relax a bit at the half joke, satisfied with the explanation that his odd behaviour is just an eccentric personality but you still feel on edge. The only thing keeping you in the room is your work, after all this you need something to show for it, and this guy feels like a golden ticket.

“I take it, that’s your partner’s role… Henry Emily?” You ask as you pull out the chair on the other side of the desk, hoping that sitting down will force him to look anywhere else other than your body.

He scoffs a little, “Sure. You didn’t have to look at your notes for his name.” He observes, with an accusatory tone to the words. Sensing bad blood you present him your palms in some kind of surrender.

“I’ve just never heard of anyone with Emily as their last name. Stuck with me.” You explain, thinking about how much of a nightmare this ballbuster must be to work for.

Looking at him, you find it difficult to read the stern expression on his face, having to look away when he meets your gaze head on. Only looking back at the shuffling sound of him moving the seat back and thudding his shoes on the desk, resting his feet there in a very unprofessional way.

“You’re lucky you caught me today, Henry can be… funny with pretty young lasses like you.” He considers the word funny and you catch the meaning straight away. If the other guy is “funny” you don’t know what the hell to call this.

“Lucky me.” You mutter, sarcasm dripping from the words. You didn’t exactly want him to hear that but the grin on his face tells you that he did. It doesn't miss you that this is a pretty handsome bloke, a silver fox, some might say. But the only silver you see is the glinting of a metallic tooth.

At the beat of silence, he interrupts your thoughts. “You gonna ask me your questions or not?” You blink, quickly reaching for your notepad and pen, fumbling all the way. Whilst you do he smirks to himself at how you probably should have done your shirt up another button because he can see the fabric of your bra peeking over. Not that he minds.

You eventually manage, getting your papers sorted and glancing up to find that the bloke’s eyes had been on you the entire time. “The uh 26th of June, the day the five children went missing, were you there?” You’ve rehearsed these questions a bunch and they’re written down in front of you, but you still struggle to get it out, sounding pathetic and uncertain. And whilst that may be how you feel, this guy doesn’t have to know that.

Amusement doesn’t leave his features for a second, “Course I was.” He answers bluntly.

“And… Did you know any of the victims?” You glance at the sheet with the five names on it, ready to give him them if he needs prompting.

“Victims?” You curse the choice of words, technically no crimes had occurred, no individual had been found, these kids might not be victims at all. Well of anything more than complete and utter negligence from parents and restaurant staff. But you know as well as him that five children don’t just disappear without anyone having seen them.

You stumble, “The children. Gabriel, Susan-”

He cuts you off, speaking somewhat meanly. “I don’t make a habit of befriending little kids.” At this point he’s trying to make you feel stupid, and it’s working enough that you glare at him. Poor thing must be getting whiplash, he thinks to himself, you react so plainly to everything he says it’s just delightful. You’re about to give up and move on but he continues, “But I seen them on the day. Recognised some of the pictures the police shown me.” Well that’s the answer you were looking for in the first place, the smug bastard.

Nodding you veer off track, curiosity spurring your question, “You were interviewed by police?”

He laughs incredulously, not liking the implications of your questioning. “We all were. Hell, I was fucking liable for it, had to hire more security staff.”

You continue through your list of questions; what other measures did you put in place? Has the incident affected business? How do you personally feel about the events? And your staff? Each question is answered nonchalantly, a mixture of apparent boredom and sharpness to his responses. You long to ask him if he was this compliant for police, ‘this’ being the bare fucking minimum. Which you suppose could be down to him having to answer all this many times by now. But for some reason it still doesn’t sit right with you.

After about twenty minutes you’ve got enough to finally put this assignment to bed, which you thank god for at this point. Now you can get away from this man and the gross feeling you get when he locks eyes with you.

“I think that’ll do it, Mr Afton.” You try to smile politely, though it probably comes off wobbly. “Uh, thank you for your time.” You add, not wanting to irritate him anymore than you likely already have.

William nods, taking his feet off the desk and standing. You assume he’s going to get the door for you or something, so you gather your sheets up and push your chair back. Or you try to. Because you instantly bump into his figure behind you, his foot catching the wheels. From above you he can see how your brows immediately knit, confused, scared whatever it is.

And when you turn to see what he’s doing he angles himself so you’re eye to eye, so to speak, with the bulge in his trousers. Physically jolting in your chair, you almost feel sick. You knew something about this was very wrong and like a fucking idiot you went along with it. And now you’re all alone in a back office with a scary bloke and his fucking boner. You open your mouth to speak, forcing yourself to not turn again, but you let it die when he gets there first.

“So we’re all done? I’ve given you what you need.” The way he speaks is loaded with intention and it has your legs pressing together, you want to shiver but force yourself into stillness, “But you've not given me anything in return. What are we going to do about that, huh?”

Your mouth is dry, making it hard to form some words. “I-I think you’ve got the wrong idea-”

“Really?” He asks with heavy mock surprise, sucking air through his teeth in a pitying way. You go to continue but a harsh hand suddenly finds grip in your hair, jerking your head to the side so the tent in his trousers is shoved against the side of your face. His body heat is the first thing you register and you instantly repel, pushing your chair back into him hard and panicked.

He lets you rive yourself free, watching amused as you almost violently turn round, bumping into the desk behind you, your chest heaving with shaky breath. “I had no idea you thought that… that’s- No. No.” You babble excuses trying to de-escalate this futilely, hardly even noticing the cruel way he laughs at you.

“Uh huh.” He nodded in faux understanding, god the way you look right now, ravaged by panic, makes his cock twitch. William steps close to you and you quiver in response, you’d give anything to be at home, hell anywhere else really, anywhere away from the reality of the dark look in the eyes of the man invading your personal space. “Come on, love. I’ll make it good for you.”

As he speaks his hand roughly cups your breast, your bra doing nothing to disguise the harshness of the touch and you exhale staggeringly from your nose. You try to pull away but his body keeps you there against the desk, his other hand firmly groping your arse. Your body is responding to him but your mind is screaming, it just feels dangerous and wrong and no fluttering in your core can make up for that.

“Please…” You mutter, your hand pulling at the wrist whose fingers are so intent on prying under your bra.

He chuckles, easily flicking your hand away and pushing you back on to the desk behind you, forcing you to prop yourself up briefly. It feels like you exist in slow motion because all of a sudden you’re patting along the desktop searching for something to defend yourself with, instinct fully kicking in. Eventually your fingertips brush the spine of a book and the realisation of what you’re about to do is electric in your veins. It comes easily, the movement fluid as you grip the book and slam it hard between his ribs, using your feet to push him away in his vulnerable state. The pained grunt from him is all the confirmation you need to get to your feet and run to the door, throwing yourself out of the room.

“Jesus… fucking…” He winces, turning himself to see the door close behind you. That hurt like hell, winded him even, you crafty little shit. It’s as he’s trying to get his bearings back, he realises that he probably went too far. Fuck, you won’t get very far without the doorcode, he’ll have to follow you out there.

You get halfway down the corridor before you see the keypad illuminated by the red LED above it, you can’t go back out there, but what fucking else are you suppose to do? You turn around quickly, desperately scanning the hall for anywhere else to go, a fire door or something but no. There’s only the other internal rooms. It takes you a moment to think clearly over the thrumming of your blood but you finally decide on hiding, getting yourself inside one of these rooms and playing the waiting game. This is a restaurant after all, someone else will have to come down here eventually and you can have them open the door for you. It’s the only option.

You try a few of the doors but find them locked, your frantic searching making the tightness in your chest worse and worse, until you see a heavy metal looking door with a ‘private’ sign on it. The keys are still sticking out the lock.

By the time he can breathe comfortably enough to go after you, you’re nowhere to be found. He expected you to be standing by the door, perhaps holding another weapon, but no, you’re not there. He frowns, confusion washing over him before he realises that you must seriously be hiding, it makes him laugh. Come on, it’s not like he was going to hurt you. Much.

The room you’re in is completely pitch black, so much so that you can’t tell if it’s huge or just the illusion of the dark. You stay close to the door, watching the tiny stream of light peeking out from under the door, you watch it like a hawk, waiting for that psycho to walk past. His footsteps are light, but you can just catch them, what’s more suspect is the jiggling of door handles, exactly what you did seconds ago. The thought scares you into action, you’ll have to hide more, there must be somewhere in this room you can stay out of view, so you feel around in the darkness, hands outstretched so you don’t bump into anything. You find shelves separating the room into two halves and as you go around them your fingers brush something big.

You can feel the presence of something huge in front of you, you trace the cold metal shape, your hands shaking as you feel the dip of an arm. The fright of it makes you flinch away, catching something sticking out from the shelf and it clatters noisily to the floor.

The sound echoes, your pursuer flinching at the suddenness of it, he turns to the direction it came from and scowls. He’s a fucking idiot for leaving it open, but you, you’re more of an idiot for going in.

As soon as his hand touches the door handle you cower behind the shelves, hoping the dark will be to your advantage but, knowing the place so well, WIlliam finds the light switch easily. And just like that your plan crumbles to fucking dust.

Straight away you begin imploring him, stumbling to your feet and distraughtly babbling when his tall figure shuts the door, the metal clanging of the keys immediately following.

With wide eyes you beg him, “Look… I’m sorry, okay? I really am- I don’t want any trouble-”

“Well, you’ve fucking found it.” He says jeeringly, a visible tightness in his jaw that hadn’t been there before making your hands clammy. “Don’t you know better than to trespass in private areas? You never know what you might stumble across-”

“What?” You interrupt, your voice frenzied and threatening to drop any ties to sensibility you have left, “An old store room? The secrets of the trade? I don’t care- I didn’t-” Your barely sensicle plea is cut short by the starling way he moves towards you, fiercely grabbing your arm and spinning you round to look at the half-formed animatronic you had touched. You stare perplexed, before he sighs and a grip takes root on the back of your next, shoving you across the room in front of another decommissioned suit. There he forces you down on your knees and the very second the concrete bruises your skin, your airways are filled with the most vile stench.

The smell is wrong and your body rejects it instantly, making you gag as you fall back onto your behind, scrambling to get away from it. If you were scared before, it was nothing compared to the sheer terror you feel now. Your eyes are watering from the stench but even through the blurr you make out the dull copper pool that the suit is sitting in. You retch again, this time making him laugh, you stupid little girl.

“You get it now?” He speaks in a snide way, a sharpness in his tone forcing you to readjust to the gravity of this situation.

“...What is that?” Your voice trembles, hand coming to cover your nose. You know what it is, somewhere in your gut, deep-set in your dna you know. And it’s incomprehensible. The list of names you abandoned in his office flickers in your mind, making you dizzy.

The man above you scoffs, palming the erection in his trousers that was probably the hardest it had ever been, and he briefly thinks about how fucked up that is. He lets your question hang in the air for a moment, watching how you stare at the evidence in front of you, your whole body shaking. Before eventually breaking it, “How’s that for your article?” He sniggers, the words dripping with venom.

You look up at him dumbstruck at what he was almost admitting, before panic-driven getting to your feet, struggling to stand anywhere near this disgusting man or the suit in the corner. The danger surrounding you feels suffocating, making it hard to speak. “I- fuck my article.” You laugh but it's touching hysteria as you step towards William before stepping back again, “I don't- I won't write anything, I want nothing to do with this. Just, please, let me leave.”

You search his face for any trace of humanity but it’s void, in its place a sadistic look that only amplifies at the horrified look on your face. As you continue glaring at him, he snickers, “Go on. Keep selling it.”

It feels more than impossible to keep yourself together, tears of futility are pricking your eyes as you think about whether people would look for you if you never leave this room. You gulp, “I just- want to go home.” You start slow but the words cause a landslide of begging, “I didn’t mean to offend you- I had no idea. I had no idea what would happen… I just wanted to do my- my job.” By the time you’re finished, you’re fully crying.

“Offend me?” He laughs meanly, “And to think you could have just spread your legs for me and you’d be home by now. But no,” He stops chuckling, as he looks you up and down in the most predatory way. “Now, you’re in here with me, wasting my time talking like I could just let you walk out of here.” He shakes his head.

“Please.” You try, but the unmoving look of resolution on his face shows you there’s no hope. He doesn’t feel sorry for you. He doesn’t want to give you mercy. You wrack your brain trying to think about what he does want and it settles on what landed you in here in the first place.

You step closer to him, praying that your knees will be strong enough to keep you up. He can practically see the cogs turning in your head as you look up at him, your mascara trailing down your cheeks. “I’ll-” You swallow, “I’ll do anything.”

“Oh yeah?” The sarcasm is palpable.

You nod frantically, falling into your last hope. You reach for him, hand shaking as you touch the hardness in his trousers. He watches you, finding immense joy in how weak you’ve become, all you needed was to see a little blood and your resolve shatters. You see his chest settle as he exhales, so you continue, grabbing him over the fabric and trying not to think about what you’re doing.

“That’s fucking pathetic.” He jeers, loving the way your lip trembles.

“I’ll do better.” You try, moving to his belt and pulling at the buckle. You’re taking too long to undo it, so he grabs you by the hair, pulling you away so he can do it himself. It makes you wince in pain, but you grit your teeth and bear it, moving with his grip onto your knees before he pulls again.

Your knees are bruised from earlier, yet that’s the furthest thing from your mind when you’re confronted by his dick, rock hard and big. He’s gifted and you wish you’d just gone along with him earlier, this is 1000x more dehumanising than a skeezy fuck in his office would have been. That thought must register on your face because he jerks your head towards him, roughly. Remembering the bed you’ve made for yourself, you wrap your hand around his length, quickly joining in your other hand and stroking him, forcing yourself not to look at him. He makes a noise you take as a good sign, so you continue.

Bringing your head closer to him, you run your tongue over his tip, struggling not to grimace at the salty taste of the precum on his cock. The enthusiasm you’re showing him is completely false, a plea for life on the flimsy idea that sucking him off well enough will be your freedom. Slowly you take his head in your mouth and he hisses, grinning in the victory of having you try so hard. You use your tongue to tease him, swirling it around as your hands stimulate him at the base, his groan involuntarily stirring your core. His grip on your hair flexes, impatient at your provocative action and you obey, hollowing your cheeks and taking as much of him as you can, gagging when his tip presses hard in the back of your throat. As you do he holds your head right there, revelling in the way you involuntarily contract around him. He doesn’t give you time to adjust to the intrusion, straight away using your mouth like a toy, shoving his cock in and out in a rhythm that has you desperately clinging on to him silently begging for respite.

It’s brutal and when he finally pulls back, you gasp for breath, suddenly aware of the saliva trailing down your chin in the most humiliating way. Your jaw aches from the size of him and the moment for breath is near heavenly. He rubs himself on your lips and you’re not sure if the stickiness is him or you, but you take it, sticking out your tongue in a degrading manner that you assume is what he wants. You must be right because he grins.

“You’ve done this before, huh?” He sneers, his voice thick with restraint because he doesn't want to be done, not just yet. Not before he’s had a taste of your tight cunt.

You nod as much as you can not wanting your silence to be interpreted as insolence, still giving his cock your full attention, sucking him like you really really want it. But it must not be good enough, because he yanks your head back, forcing you to look up at him as he speaks sharply.

“Get up.” The command is so firm that you don’t react for a moment, but once it’s registered you trip over yourself trying to obey. You know in your gut that the worst is yet to come.

You stand in front of him uncertainly, waiting for your next order. It comes in the form of a rough grip on your face, shoving you towards the wall and holding you strict there. William feels like a god with the terrified awe you look at him with, and he is a fucking god, he choses whether you live or die. Whilst mentally praising himself, he pulls your shirt open, ignoring the pop of the buttons and jerks your bra down, exposing your tits to the chill of the room, your nipples are peaked so nicely he can’t resist pumping his dick to the sight of them.

You stare transfixed at the view before you, too scared to even notice him tugging at your waistband, meanly pulling your trousers from you, set on having you completely vulnerable to him. Some kind of whimper leaves your lips when the clothing hits the floor, only becoming more pathetic when he cups your pussy, nastily pressing his thumb over your clit, it makes your body jolt with unwitting pleasure. You hate yourself for it, after what you’ve come to know how can your core be willing? It’s sick.

No, he’s sick, you force yourself to think and he keeps up stimulating you, eager to have you fall apart on his cock. You’re going to cry for him and you’re going to fucking love it. He forces your legs further apart and you shiver seeing him lined up with your hole, your slick is a mercy but you still resent it.

He grips your hip as he forces his cock inside you, making your walls accept him all at once, it hurts and you cry out as he sinks fully to the hilt. You feel full of him, not just your cunt but your blood, your head, like he owns you. The sizzling pain of the stretch fizzles down to a static ache once he starts moving, the difference in height forcing him to lift you up slightly, your weight nothing compared to the tight grip of your pussy.

You’re whining like an injured animal, letting him selfishly fuck you, his pace soon becoming as cruel as it is deep. Partially disassociating all you can think is the rough snap of his hips, punctuated by the clinking of what you assume is his belt. He tilts the angle of your hips so you’re squeezing around him more, rubbing your bundle of nerves maliciously as his tip bruises the part of you that makes you see white.

“There she is.” He hisses in your face, not relenting for a moment. “That’s how you fucking like it.” As vile as his taunting is, it's based in truth because you can’t deny the unwilling knot in your core that’s strangling you with the need to snap. And it does, your body going stiff with the intensity of it, it’s all-consuming, inescapable as it seizes you entirely.

He can’t help but explode inside you at the feeling of your walls grasping around him, you go limp in his grip as he fucks you through his end, shoving his cum further and further into you.

Your ears are ringing as you come to your senses, well, what’s left of them. You’re full of him, his filthy release trickling down your leg. William looks to the side as he gets through his climax, keeping himself wrapped in your heat, his eyes narrowing as a dark thought rears its head: he’s got bigger suits… maybe you’ll fit.

#fnaf #william afton #william afton x reader #william afton smut #fnaf smut #william afton x you #fnaf william afton #fnaf movie #steve raglan #steve raglan x reader #tw non con #cw non con

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miraclewoozi · 2 months

Text

FOR BETTER, FOR WORSE. -l.c

pair : dino x fem!reader. prompt : “say you want me, and i’m yours.” SMUT. MINORS DO NOT HAVE MY CONSENT TO INTERACT. wc : 5k. heads up / smut tags : ex-boyfriend!chan. everyone’s down horrendous. drinking/some alcohol consumption prior to the fucking (they aren’t drunk tho). chan is able to lift reader and carry her a short distance. oral (f rec). backshots. unprotected p-in-v sex. reader has solid arch game. chan calls reader good girl/pretty girl/ baby. it’s all very needy. notes : i had idubilu chan on the brain for a big portion of writing. this was supposed to be a drabble and then ended up longer than some of my actual fics, so. bon appetite i guess?

There’s a list of places you think you’d be okay to run into one of your exes.

In the grocery store, for starters. At the gym. In a bar, at your favourite pizza place, the library… None of them would exactly be fun, but one way or another, you believe that they would all be quite manageable.

Further down are family events. While on a date with someone else. At the beach, or a swimming pool. A doctors office. Considerably more uncomfortable. Would probably warrant a large glass of wine as soon as you got home. You would live, though. No doubt about it.

But at a wedding? Not only is it not on there, it’s quite high up on its own index.

The Crisis List.

Yet this is the position in which you find yourself on this beautiful summer’s evening. You suppose it’s sort of what you get for letting yourself be set up with a friend of a friend while you were in college and mixing your social circles: this is some sort of twisted, universal revenge. But of all the places you’ve pictured running into Chan and succeeding to pace yourself through awkward small-talk before parting ways again… you never imagined that a celebration of eternal love would be the setting.

You recognised the sound of his voice pretty much as soon as you arrived, but you were thankfully seated on opposite sides of the aisle during the ceremony itself. It was therefore pretty easy to keep your eyes off him and instead focus on what was going on at the front of the room. This wasn’t so simple when you only knew one other person at your table during the dinner service and Chan was seated barely ten feet away, and every time you glanced over to him, he was blowing bubbles and entertaining a group of young kids. Every time he laughed, or even every time he made one of them laugh, your head would snap over on instinct. Though you locked eyes with him a few times, mostly you were able to look away again before he had the chance to catch you.

Regardless, seeing that brilliant smile from across the room full of strangers made your stomach twist, so much so that you couldn’t even finish your dessert.

Thus far, the day has passed without any real incident; dinner was three hours ago and you’ve managed to avoid him almost perfectly. You keep telling yourself that if you can just make it a little while longer, you’ll be able to go back upstairs and retire to your hotel room, and maybe even eventually, this will become another one of those memories you can laugh about with your friends.

Just a little while longer.

In the meantime, a stool at the very end of the bar is your sanctuary and it has been for so long that your ass has started to go numb. With more people in attendance at the reception than there were at the ceremony and dinner portions of the day, you’re doing a pretty fantastic job keeping your distance from Chan. His friends, too. Everyone, if you’re being completely honest: with your back to the room at large, you could forgive anyone here for assuming that you peaked early, got wasted and just no longer have the legs to move from your perch.

But the truth is that you’re still nursing the same flute of champagne you were given on your way in. Still drawing your fingertip round and around the rim of the same glass, wiping off the lipstick marks you leave with every tiny new sip. Still watching the same bubbles rise up and burst at the same surface. You’re about as sober as anyone on the planet has ever been.

At least, almost certainly, you’re the most sober adult in the building.

You know it’s not exactly fair to have removed yourself from the fun like this on the happiest day of your friends’ lives. You’re overjoyed for them, you really are, and you sort of wish you could just shake this off and go about your business, pretending he’s not here so that you could enjoy yourself properly. You’ve never claimed to be the life and soul of the party, but you know being so distant is a new look on you.

If only it was as easy as simply caring less.

But you’re surrounded by happy couples and faced with the man who is the definition of ‘right person, wrong time’. How can you possibly think about anything else?

Your spine tingles with the feeling of someone hovering behind you and you pick your glass up into your hand, ready to spin around and tell a concerned bride — for the fifth time — that you promise, you’re okay. To keep up the lie about the bellyache you’ve been pretending to have for an hour now just to get her to go back to her party. You square your shoulders and put a smile onto your face, but you don’t have the chance to turn around and put up a façade. The person — who is decidedly not who you were expecting — appears to your right instead, a solid frame in a black suit swallowing up your periphery. Your excuses fade away to static in your brain.

“Is this seat taken?” Chan asks, fingertips brushing over the leather of the chair adjacent to you. “Are you… waiting for someone?”

You shake your head, taking a deep breath. There’s no running away now. “Nope. All yours.”

He swings one leg over the stool and settles into it, both hands resting up on the bar. He, too, twitches his fingers against his glass. He, too, fails to even glance at you.

“Been a while, huh?” He says after a few seconds. Even though music continues playing behind you both, it’s nowhere near as loud as the thick, uncomfortable silence that had started to settle between you.

A while is sort of a massive understatement. You haven’t seen him in… four? Five years? Not since you left college and he accepted the job offer of a lifetime, pulling him all the way to the other side of the country. Not since, despite your shared willingness to try, you realised that the whole long-distance thing didn’t work for either of you; not since you ended up calling time on your relationship after just four months of being apart.

Ending things meant saying goodbye to amost two and a half years though, in total.

You’d you’d never been broken up with over a video call before. It fucking sucked.

“I didn’t know you were around,” you say instead of answering the obvious. “Are you just here for this, or…?”

Chan takes a long sip from his drink and finishes the glass, pushing it away from himself. He shakes his head, scrunching his nose a little. You were surprised not to see him with some sort of a whiskey in-hand, so his reaction to the chug makes sense: he was never that big into wines. Some things never change.

“I got promoted. Came with a relocation,” he tells you. This time, he turns his head and looks at you properly, a small smile tugging up the corners of his lips.

“Oh, shit. Congratulations,” you offer, tilting your now mostly empty glass in his direction before draining the little bit in the bottom, just like he did. You know it’s probably all in your own head that the fizz gives you a bit of a confidence boost, but you find the nerve to move to face him fully: you’ve never been one to turn your nose up at a positive coincidence, after all. “That’s amazing.”

“Thank you,” he says, bowing his head. “It’s… good to be back.”

A few seconds later, he tags on, “and it’s really good to see you.”

The bartender comes back to see if she can get you anything else to drink now you’ve finally finished your champagne and Chan puts his card down for a round of your choosing. It helps loosen up the tension in your shoulders, stops you bouncing your leg against the rest beneath your seat, makes it a little bit easier to settle into a back and forth with him. Eventually, the conversation starts to flow as if you were never really apart.

You laugh at his bad jokes. Chan shoves you playfully when you make some back. He gets so invested in catching up on what’s been going on in your life that he doesn’t even tell you what the promotion he got is, nor where he’s been relocated to.

As the following few hours tick by, he doesn’t leave your side. Even when people come over to talk to him, even when your friends’ eyes start to find you together and linger, as they attempt to read your lips, pick apart your body language, as they begin whispering behind their hands. He takes exactly one bathroom break, and he finds his way straight back to the chair he left. He even scoots it a little bit closer.

And the longer he stays glued to your left, the more you find yourself starting to hope a little harder that wherever he’s living now, it’s not too far away. That whatever him being ‘back’ means, something happens because of it.

Your something comes in the form of your companion trying to persuade you to get up and dance with him. He fails, numerous times; you have a whole arsenal of excuses, some of which are recycled and things that he heard a very long time ago, but others are new. He raises his eyebrows at a couple of them, though you don’t know if he’s just shocked at your attempts or actually impressed. None of them work on him though. You should have remembered that he wasn’t a quitter.

“My shoes hurt,” you tell him on attempt number five. “You go, I’ll stay here.”

Clearly, this line of defence isn’t good enough either.

“Just one song,” Chan asks again as he stands up from his chair and picks up one of your wrists, this time. You look down at where he’s holding you, but he doesn’t. “Please? Just… for me?”

“When was the last time I did anything ‘just for you’?” You scoff incredulously, shaking your head.

It doesn’t. His eyes soften and he takes a small step closer to you, those perfect lips of his pressing into a pout.

He drops his fingers lower and squeezes your hand lightly. “Too long ago. I miss it.”

Something in his stare looks a little far away and you wonder what exactly it is that he’s thinking about. Is he remembering the times you would bring him his favourite snacks when he was sick, ice his injuries after gruelling dance practices, brush sleep out of his eyes early in the mornings when he stayed up too late and couldn’t get out of bed, but really needed to make it to his 8AM classes? Is he remembering when you’d put band-aids on his papercuts? Make sure his laptop was fully charged when he had long study days? Pick him and his friends up from the bars and let him lean all his weight against you as you dragged him into your apartment?

(Those needy nights where you’d let him call you the prettiest girl in the world as he snuggled into your side and nuzzled his cold nose against your warm cheek? When you’d let him tell you, without even rolling your eyes, that you were his everything, the reason he had any strength, the love of his life, the only person he’d ever need—)

He uses your distractedness to his full advantage; as soon as the muscles in your arm go slack, he pulls you again and this time succeeds in getting you to your feet. You stumble a few steps towards him and he ends up leading you all the way over to the dance floor, grinning proudly the entire time.

“One song,” you stress, hanging your head to try and conceal the fact that you’re definitely blushing hard.

“Just one,” he lies, glancing back at you.

You know he's lying, too. High-flying job aside, he’s always been a dancer at heart: when he turns around to face you, there’s a glint in his eyes that says ‘one... or five.’

Confirming your suspicions, seven songs later, you’re still up there with him. You’ve stopped caring about your dumb shoes, or having too many sets of eyes on you, or whether anyone here is murmuring about it. How could you mind, when he keeps finding little ways to touch you again? When he’s singing his heart out, serenading you with corny 90’s love songs, hand on his heart and everything?

How could you mind, when he so clearly doesn’t care?

And the thing is… no part of you thinks that this is a bad idea. It could never be a bad thing to let somebody make your heart race this way and your brain so fuzzy; just seeing him grin at you as he extends his hand out, waiting for you to take it, feels like being twenty one all over again. And when he spins you and spins you and spins you until you’re dizzy, falling over your own feet and staggering until you land against his solid chest, laughing… when he catches you in both arms, and darts his tongue out over his lips at the exact moment you look at his face…

Perhaps your rare moment of unabashed bravery is spurred on by the way he drinks you up like an elixir. Perhaps it’s spurred on by the way he adjusts himself to hold you tighter against him, perhaps it’s spurred on by the fact that this right here is exactly what you feel like you’ve been missing. Whatever the reason, you hook a finger through one of the belt-loops on his pants and manage to find your voice long enough to speak.

“My room or yours?” You ask, quietly enough only for him to hear, loudly enough that he can’t mistake you.

Letting out a breathy chuckle, he brings his palm up between your shoulder blades. “Don’t care,” he says, ducking lower and brushing the tip of his nose against your own. “Just… pick one. As soon as possible.”

A few people have already started to leave: couples with young families, older relatives who are getting tired, friends who have work in the morning, so you don’t feel too bad about slipping out into the corridor with Chan in tow as soon as you’ve grabbed your things. The elevator door closes behind you and you feel the mechanism start to pull you upwards, away from the hotel’s function room and towards the fourth floor to your own suite. Chan presses kiss after kiss to the back of your neck as soon as you’re alone, hands slipping around your waist and joining together just below your belly-button.

“They have… cameras in these, you know,” you sigh, tilting your head to give him better access anyway.

He chuckles quietly, nosing just behind your ear. “Okay?” He says, kissing you there too, bunching your dress in his hand and pulling it a little higher up your thigh. “So what?”

“So… fucking… public indecency,” you laugh, a little taken aback by his brazenness.

It’s hard to be stern with him when he’s acting as if he never forgot how to press every single one of your buttons. Hell, as if he never stopped pushing them, in the first place. You lay one hand over both of his and squeeze gently, encouraging his teeth to keep grazing over the skin of your shoulder. You’ve never had any resolve when it comes to him. He clearly hasn’t forgotten.

Just as you’re relaxing into it, the elevator pings and you jolt away from him just in time for the door to open. The middle aged woman waiting to get in eyes you both as you rush out into the hallway and Chan grabs hold of your hand: you’re fairly sure she sucks her front teeth just before the door closes, but you don’t care. You’re too busy counting the rooms until you get to yours.

409, 410, 411…

“You look so fucking good right now,” Chan groans as you whip turn a corner and he quickens his pace to catch up, walking so fast he should probably be running instead.

421, 422…

“423,” you breathe, fumbling in your purse for the key-card.

In a flash, you wave it over the sensor and pull down on the handle: before you have the chance to get dizzy from the speed of the turn, Chan has you pressed against the door from the inside. He doesn’t wait to be invited. He barely gives you the chance to catch your breath from your power-walk from the reception. Both his hands press into your hips when he brings his mouth down against yours, lips scorching hot, lifted up at the edges in a grin. Your knees go weak and you hold onto his biceps for stability, which… maybe, with how thick and sturdy they feel beneath your palms, isn’t a great way to help you calm down.

When his tongue presses into your mouth and he tastes you for the first time in what feels like forever, you know the only thing keeping you standing is his strength. His hands, pinning you to the wood behind you. His body, pressing against you everywhere it possibly can. His muscular thigh, slotted between yours, giving you something to relax down against but also, to find a tiny little bit of friction from.

He dips down a little lower, looping his hands around you just below your ass, and with a quick movement he lifts you up off the floor completely. You hook your ankles together behind him, shifting to get higher up on his hips: when he steps away from the door, you drop your head down to his shoulder and a smirk replaces his prior very needy expression, feeling how warm you are at your core now your dress has hiked up around your waist.

“Say you want me,” he says, licking a stripe up the side of your neck. He knows you do.

“Huh?”

Chan repeats, “say you want me.”

You grasp harder at his hair and pull, but he doesn’t move away from your neck, just keeps kissing you at your sweet-spot until he’s walked a few paces to the middle of the room, holding you up over the hotel’s generously sized bed.

“Say you want me, and I’m yours.”

He’s… yours?

It takes you a moment to process it but you don’t have to think twice about how you respond, even though your stomach flips at this very open-hearted confession. The entire way back up here, part of you expected this to be little more than a one-night-only special event, but…

“Shit,” you whine, feeling his fingers slip beneath the thin fabric of your underwear at your hip and tug. He pulls back from you at the sound of your voice, determined to look you in the eyes when you say it.

Faces just inches apart, you admit, “I– I want you, Chan. Please. I want you so much.”

He bounces you up a little bit higher to get you to unhook your ankles and proceeds to basically drop you down onto the mattress, pushing both his shirt sleeves up to his elbows and reaching for his necktie. In a manner you can only describe as obscenely smooth, he grabs the knot and pulls, tugging it side to side to make it looser. The expensive silk comes undone easily. He balls it in his fist. You watch him toss his tie to the side, snap open a few more buttons, and with heavily lidded eyes, he plants one knee on the comforter, before crawling up the length of your body until you’re face-to-face again.

You take care of the remaining buttons on his shirt for him as he trails his lips all over your throat, your chest, your shoulders: even down your arms, to the crooks of your elbows, everywhere he can reach with your clothes still on. When his upper body is bare, he disregards the fact that you’re still wearing anything at all and kisses down your torso anyway.

He lays between your thighs and presses his lips to them, too, pushing your dress up higher until it’s bunched up around your ribcage. One of his hands pushes your panties to the side and the other one reaches up to grab hold of yours, pulling it down to lace your fingers back into his hair. You do as he silently asks, and you swear his eyes roll back into his head at the first little pull.

Chan always liked giving, but he loved it when you used him like a little toy, tugging and moving him around until you couldn’t handle him anymore.

Some things never change.

You’re about to tell him that he doesn’t have to do this. That you could take him now, if he wanted to hurry and get to it, because you’re already feeling yourself flutter at the thought of having him buried inside you. But his lips part and you feel the tip of his tongue drag through your folds, separating them, exposing you; he collects your arousal and swallows it back, pressing his tongue into your hole, swirling it around your clit, sending sparks up and down your spine.

That ridiculous, stupid idea dies magnificently. You let Chan lose himself in you, and in equal parts, you lose yourself in him. In the cold bite of the ring decorating his middle finger as he trails them down your sensitive skin, in the way he grunts and moans and praises you between your legs. You selfish– and selfless–ly let him have his way, right up until you feel so tense you could snap.

Sure, you could let yourself come undone like this. Easily. In seconds, even, because he’s got you right there and you’re battling not to let it wash over you. But there’s something you need even more than the euphoria of your own release.

You scrunch your fist in his strands so hard that it forces him to pull away from you, gasping and cringing at the sting. At this, before he has the chance to ask what’s wrong, why you’ve stopped, if you’re okay, you press up onto one elbow, straps hanging off your shoulders, your own hair a mess. Somehow, Chan still looks up at you with glittering eyes, so shiny you can see their sweet, questioning gaze even in the dark.

“Need you, now,” you tell him, your chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. He wipes over his lips on the back of his hand and nods, pulling himself up onto his knees. You let go of him and tug your dress up over your head while he fiddles with the buckle on his belt.

“Flip over,” he says huskily, tugging it free just as quickly as he did with his tie, and when it thunks to the floor, you hear him start to move his pants down his legs too.

You do as he says, turning onto your front, bracing yourself on your knees with your hands clasped together beneath your head. Your back arches naturally for him, pressing your hips higher into the air; his breath catches at the sight of you, your perfect ass, your dribbling pussy.

It’s his favourite view. Always has been. Shit, nothing since the last time he was with you has ever come close.

“Deep breath for me,” he says, so soft in comparison to the way his fingers on one hand grasp at your hip and you feel the blunt edges of his nails digging into your skin. You inhale through your mouth, loud enough for him to hear. “That’s it. My good girl.”

He’s so fucking hard when he finally drags his tip through your folds, so heavy and thick when he pushes inside you inch by inch. The stretch is more intense than you remember, and despite slowly letting the breath you sucked in leave your lungs, you feel all of your muscles go tense. Your eyes squeeze shut. Your torso goes tight. You know your cunt hugs him because of how he lets go of his length and lays his hand flat in the middle of your back, dragging his thumb back and forth, trying to soothe you through it.

“Easy,” he says to you, slowing but not stopping until he’s buried all the way inside you. He’s so deep, you swear he nudges something he shouldn’t. So far inside you that you don’t know what to do with yourself. “Relax, baby. I’ve got you.”

It’s a little difficult when you feel more full now than you ever have, but slowly, you manage to loosen up and it’s only when you give a small nod of your head and an 'mhm' that he starts to rock his hips back and forth. Shallow, to start with, but with the angle he slides into you at, he might as well be going full depth, full force, full speed with how feverish this already is. You bunch the comforter in your fist, letting those familiar sensations of being fucked by Chan take over, letting the discomfort subside until it's replaced only by pleasure.

By which point, he's stopped treating you like a fragile doll, and has started to handle you like the person he wishes he never lost.

Those dancer hips haven't gone to waste, you realise, as he snaps them fluidly into you, the harsh slap of skin-on-skin punctuating every single sound that escapes you both. Sometimes, he pulls you back, spearing you wholly on his length, letting you do some of the work and control the pace. Sometimes, he holds you completely still so that he can have it all.

At all times, you feel yourself losing your mind piece by piece. Though you've tried to be with other people since that horrendous breakup, it's never managed to stick, and you find yourself thinking that maybe in a way, you were waiting for him. Hoping that one day, he'd waltz his way back into your life and sweep you off your feet and make sure you never forgot just how well he can give it to you. Praying that the universe was going to give you another chance.

One of his hands slips around your waist, now, and you feel him come down lower, pressing his chest against your back. His thrusts stop being so long and instead, he settles for harsh, deep ruts. His fingers find and start strumming over your clit, and you can feel yourself start to break apart with gasps and choked moans and whines of his name.

You're done for, and he knows it, but he still teases you as he kisses up your spine.

"Wanna feel you come, pretty girl," he says. His fingers move so easily that it takes everything you have not to collapse beneath him. “Missed feeling this pretty pussy around me. Wasn’t the same watching you play with it on the phone.”

You hide your face in the comforter and gasp, that beautiful heat starting to rise up inside you again. “Fuck, Chan—”

“That’s it,” he guides you, grunting with every little spasm of your walls. “Missed you so much.”

“I missed— missed—” you try to say, but he finds just the right pattern to make you squeak and you tug harder at the sheets. “Oh my God—”

Your universe explodes as he hits just the right spot inside you and you feel your peak slam through you, hips jerking back to meet his until there’s no room for any air to pass between your bodies. Chan stills, letting you ride yourself through it, easing up a little with the pressure of his fingers but still keeping them moving to milk every ounce of pleasure that he can from you.

With your thighs still shaking, you buckle downwards and he slips out of you unintentionally as you fight to catch your breath. You’re still seeing spots, still trying to put your thoughts in the right order, but when he smooths his hands over your ass and down the backs of your thighs, still up on his knees behind you, you slowly start to come back to Earth.

You slowly move round to lie on your back so you can look up at him, his still hard, now soaked cock sitting heavily against his thigh. He settles his hands on your knees, and you lean over to the side to pass your finger over one of the light switches. The one behind the headboard flickers to life and illuminates him: a sheen of sweat makes his broad frame gleam, his rosy blush makes your chest stutter.

“I missed you too,” you say quietly, unsure now if he was just saying so in the heat of the moment or if it was the truth.

You never needed to worry, though. Not if the way he drops down onto one elbow and kisses your newly regained breath straight back out of your lungs, cupping your cheek with his other hand is anything to go by.

“You meant it, then? You really want me?” He asks, pulling away only to drag his thumb over the corner of your mouth. You nod, turning your head a little and pursing your lips forward, pressing a kiss to his skin.

“I never stopped,” you tell him.

Little celebratory fireworks start to dance in his pretty eyes.

“Yeah?” He breathes, rolling onto his back and pulling you on top of him. “Good. Neither did I.”

thank u so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed it! as always, likes, reblogs, comments & feedback are so so appreciated.<3 thank u so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed it! as always, likes, reblogs, comments & feedback are so so appreciated.<3

#lee chan smut #dino smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #kpop smut #dino x you #dino x reader #dino imagines #j writes.#mw500party!#*

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queenshelby · 8 months

Text

Auctioned (P. 4)

Pairing: Dom! Thomas Shelby x Virgin! Reader

Warning: SMUT!

The night of nights had finally come and you stood nervously in your lavish bedroom of Arrow House, the place you now called home. It was all so overwhelming - the grandeur, the opulence, and the weight of the responsibility that came with being in the service of Thomas Shelby, the infamous leader of the Peaky Blinders.

Tonight, was the night you would be losing your innocence to this man, and with this on your mind, you were startled when, suddenly, the door creaked open, and Alison sauntered in with a knowing smirk. She had been tasked with preparing you for your first time, and you couldn't help but feel a mix of anxiety and curiosity.

"Alright, darling, let's get you ready," Alison said, her voice filled with a mixture of sympathy and matter-of-factness. "We'll start with a bath. It's important to be clean and presentable for what's to come."

As you undressed, Alison filled the large, marble bathtub with warm water, fragrant oils, and rose petals. The room was filled with an intoxicating scent as you stepped into the water, feeling a strange mix of comfort and apprehension.

"I know this is all new to you, and it won't be easy, my dear. Thomas is a man who knows what he wants, and he takes it without remorse,” Alison said, handing you a soft sponge. "But trust me, whilst Thomas Shelby may be rough around the edges, he does have an eye for innocence. He is a complex man. But he's also passionate and caring, in his own twisted way, and you may even enjoy yourself."

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest, unsure of what lay ahead.

And then, you tilted your head, curiosity getting the better of your fear. "What is it that he sees in me you think? I am sure he could have money women for free,” you wondered as Alison's eyes sparkled mischievously.

"He sees a vulnerability that he can't resist. A purity that he longs to corrupt,” she determined as she gently washed your body, guiding your hesitant hands along your curves.

"Remember, he likes to be in control. Don't resist him," Alison said, her voice filled with a hint of warning. "You're here to please him. Understood?"

You nodded again, the weight of the situation sinking in. The thought of pleasing Thomas Shelby felt both terrifying and strangely exciting.

Once the bath was over, Alison helped you out and wrapped you in a fluffy towel. She sat you down on a plush velvet chair and moved to a nearby vanity, where she laid out an array of cosmetics.

"Now, my dear, let's talk about what to expect," Alison said, her voice tinged with a mix of anticipation and compassion. "It may hurt, and there may be some blood since it is your first time. It's perfectly normal, love. Thomas won't be fazed by it, and neither should you."

You bit your lip, your anxiety swirling like a storm inside you. You hadn't anticipated the reality of the situation being so raw and gritty. But you were committed, having agreed to Thomas Shelby's terms.

Alison then handed you a small bottle of painkillers, a stark reminder that this encounter would not be without its consequences. "Take these before you go to him. They will help with any discomfort you may feel afterwards. You can thank me later," she smirked as your trembling hand took the vial, the tiny capsules, a stark reminder of the pain that awaited you.

Numbly, you accepted the painkillers, but your mind was filled with a flurry of thoughts. Was this really what you had signed up for? Was it worth it?

Sensing your doubt, Alison leaned in closer, her voice low and gentle. "Honey, I won't sugarcoat it. Thomas has tastes that may seem unconventional to you. But you must do as you're told and please him, in return of which he will look after you,” she explained.

Her words offered a small glimmer of reassurance, but deep down, you couldn't shake the nerves and uncertainty that clung to you like a heavy fog.

Alison stood up and retrieved a beautifully embroidered silk robe from the wardrobe. She helped you slip it on, tying the delicate sash with a practised touch.

"Now that you're ready, my dear, let's talk about what Thomas expects from you," Alison said, her tone shifting to a more direct and business-like demeanour.

You leaned in, hanging on her every word, desperate to understand your role in this twisted dance of power and desire.

"Thomas likes it when you're attentive and when you anticipate his needs," Alison explained, her voice laced with a hint of admiration. "He's a dominant man, and he expects you to submit to his commands. You already had some practice this week, and I doubt that he would go as far as he usually does with me. That will happen in due course” Alison explained and, again, you nodded while fidgeting with the sash of the robe, trying to come to terms with the contradictory nature of Thomas Shelby. A man of darkness and light, capable of both cruelty and compassion.

"Now, let's talk about clean-up," Alison continued, a hint of mischief glinting in her eyes.

"To avoid any unwanted consequences, you'll want to take some precautions after your encounter," Alison told you and her tone held a hint of macabre humor, as if she were discussing the mundane rather than the grotesque.

She took you to a small room adjoining the chamber, where supplies awaited. Bottles of antiseptics, cotton swabs, and instructions that felt more like warnings. It was a ritual you must perform after every encounter with Thomas.

"You'll need to be thorough," she explained, her fingers gently demonstrating the motions. "Cleanse yourself of his touch, his seed. We can't afford any slip-ups, my dear."

The realisation of what she meant hit you like a punch to the gut. The thought that this encounter could lead to something more permanent than just a night of submission and pain hadn't crossed your mind until now.

"But what if I'm..." you whispered, your voice barely audible. "What if I'm with child?"

Alison's eyes softened for a moment, a glimmer of empathy breaking through the walls she had built around herself. "Then you'll do what you must. But let's hope it doesn't come to that."

The words hung in the air, the weight of the unsaid echoing in the silence. You knew what she meant - the desperate measures that would need to be taken if you were to avoid the consequences of bringing a Shelby child into this world.

"Now, love, I've taught you all I can for tonight but if you need anything, if there's anything you're unsure of, don't hesitate to come to me. I'm here for you,” Alison finally told you before leaving you to your own devices.

Gratitude welled up within you as a small smile tugged at the corners of your trembling lips. In this dark world, you had found an ally, someone who understood the intricacies and dangers that lay ahead.

You took a deep breath, drawing upon the newfound strength that Alison's words had instilled in you. Ready or not, you were about to face Thomas Shelby, the enigmatic and dangerous man who held your fate in his hands.

***

The hallway outside the bedroom was dimly lit, its worn carpet muffling the sounds of your anxious footsteps. As the door to Thomas' bedroom came into view, your heart began to race, pounding in your chest like a drum.

You hesitantly pushed open the door and stepped inside, feeling the weight of his gaze immediately upon you. The atmosphere in the room was heavy, suffused with his dominant presence. Each step closer to him felt like walking to the edge of a precipice, unsure of what lay below.

Thomas Shelby, the formidable leader of the Peaky Blinders, sat on a luxurious armchair near the fireplace, a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. His intense gaze locked onto you, causing a shiver to cascade down your spine. "Ten thousand pounds, eh," he quipped, his voice laced with arrogance.

You swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper. "I hope you won’t regret it, Mr. Shelby," Your eyes darted around the room, unable to meet his piercing gaze. The nervousness in your voice was palpable.

Thomas then stood up and circled you, his eyes tracing every contour of your body, his gaze filled with undisguised hunger. "I won’t," he then said, before making his first command.

“Now undress,” he commanded, his voice leaving no room for disobedience. With trembling hands, you began to peel away the layers of protective silk, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks as your vulnerability became more exposed with each passing second.

“Show yourself to me, Love. Show me your innocent body,” he then cued and your heart skipped a beat as Thomas' words infiltrated your mind.

The contrast of light against shadow, innocence against raw power - it captivated you and frightened you all at once. Thomas moved closer, breathing in your delicate scent, his fingertips grazing the fabric of the robe that still hugged your trembling form. He leaned down, his voice seductive and filled with authority.

"Remember, Love, you are mine tonight. Every thought, every breath, every moan belongs to me. You are my property,” he told you as his gaze roamed over your trembling form, his lips curling up into a satisfied smirk.

You nodded, your voice failing you once again. You were but a canvas, ready to be painted with the brushstrokes of Thomas Shelby's desires. Slowly, Thomas stepped back, his eyes locked on yours as he began to strip away his tailored suit. The muscles of his chest and abdomen rippled with each movement, revealing a powerful physique that left you breathless. The air in the room crackled with a potent mix of anticipation and apprehension. There was a dance happening, an intricate choreography that only Thomas knew the steps to.

"Come closer," Thomas commanded, his voice soft but commanding and you took a hesitant step forward, the floor cool against the soles of your feet, your heartbeat hammering in your ears.

In that moment, the line between fear and desire blurred, and you knew you were at the mercy of a man who thrived on both. He circled you like a predator stalking its prey, his fingers grazing the soft skin of your exposed neck. A shiver ran down your spine, your body instinctively seeking the warmth and safety of his touch.

"Your sister wasn't wrong, eh," Thomas mused, his voice laced with a hint of amusement. "There is a certain innocence about you, a vulnerability that intrigues me. It's rare in this world."

“My sister?” you asked, trembling, as you dared to look into his eyes, searching for any cracks in the façade. But all you found was an enigmatic intensity, a fire that consumed everything in its path.

“Your sister was the one who suggested that I attend the auction which I, may add, I considered to be somewhat distasteful,” Thomas pointed out and, whilst you had so many questions now, you knew that they all would have to wait when Thomas leaned in, his lips brushing gently against your ear as he whispered, sending delicious waves of electricity through your entire being. "But, enough of that now. Tonight, I will show you what it means to be mine and you will submit to me, completely," Tommy said and, with that, Thomas took your hand and led you towards the bed.

The soft sheets cradled your weight as he gently pushed you onto the mattress, his dominance like a spell that held you captive. His touch was electrifying, searing your skin as his hands roamed every inch of your trembling body. Each caress, each brush of his fingertips, sent quivers of anticipation through your core.

"Do you trust me, Love?" Thomas asked, his voice dripping with a mix of lust and possession. It was a question that held more weight than mere words could convey. You looked deep into his eyes, seeing the raw vulnerability that lay hidden beneath the layers of darkness.

"Yes," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I trust you." A fierce fire ignited within Thomas' gaze, his control slipping for a moment as he passionately claimed your lips, his kiss a mixture of tenderness and hunger. It was a whirlwind that consumed you, making you lose all sense of time and space.

Every touch of his lips, every stroke of his fingers, made you forget about everything else except his commanding presence. He expertly navigated your body with the view of getting you ready for the inevitable.

"Spread your legs, Love. Let me see how wet you are," Tommy commanded, his voice low and husky. Your heart hammered in your chest as you followed his instruction, your breath coming in short gasps.

"You are fucking soaking, eh," he determined, his finger stroking your inner thigh. "You really want me to fuck that virgin hole of yours, don't you Love?" he then asked with a devilish grin. Your face flushed red, your eyes fixed on the ceiling, unable to meet his gaze. The thought of giving yourself to him, of surrendering yourself completely, both terrified and excited you.

He pulled you closer, his large hands tracing gentle circles across your back.

"I can see it in your eyes, you want this," he murmured, his breath tickling your ear. Your heart hammered wildly in your chest, and you could feel the heat radiating off his body as you pressed against him.

"I do, Mr. Shelby," you gasped nervously as he slid his hands along your hips, guiding you to straddle him. "But I am scared that it will hurt," you then admitted as your body shook slightly, fear and excitement coursing through you as you felt his fingers teasingly brush against your entrance.

"Don't worry, love," he whispered into your ear, his deep voice a soothing balm to your racing thoughts. "It will hurt, but only for a little bit. I won't fuck you until I make sure that you are ready," he assured you before beginning to trail kisses down your body.

"I will use my tongue on you first, sweetheart. Just like last night, eh" Tommy determined, his eyes burning with intensity. Your heart raced at the thought of what he meant, and the thought made you even more aroused. You nodded, unable to speak due to the throbbing pulse between your legs and Tommy smiled knowingly, adoring your shyness.

As he slowly lowered himself to your level, his gaze fixated on yours, ensuring you were comfortable with every move he made. His hands caressed your hips and thighs, easing any discomfort that might arise from his actions.

Thomas's lips brushed gently against your sensitive skin, trailing tender kisses along your neck and shoulders. "Trust me, Love," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. As you allowed yourself to melt into his embrace, you couldn't help but acknowledge the intoxicating sensation that overtook you with each deliberate stroke of his fingers, each soft press of his lips.

Eventually, then, he reached your glistening core and started circling it with his tongue, eliciting soft moans from you as he explored every inch of your nether regions.

Gently, he lifted your leg, spreading you wider with his firm hands, taking full advantage of your submission. You gasped as he probed deeper, teasing your tightness with his tongue, drawing tiny circles around your entrance.

"Fuck, you taste amazing," Tommy groaned, his voice thick with desire. He continued to torment you, pushing you further and further along the edge of ecstasy. With each flick of his tongue, your body seemed to writhe with uncontrollable pleasure.

"Please, Mr. Shelby..." you begged, your voice hoarse from the intensity of your arousal.

Tommy smiled, knowing he had you exactly where he wanted you. He continued to torture you with his skilled mouth, pushing you to the precipice of orgasm.

You squirmed underneath him, trying to find some sort of release. The tension built up inside you, reaching almost unbearable levels.

Your breath caught in your throat as you felt the pressure growing stronger. "Tommy!" you cried out, your body shuddering violently. "Tommy, please! I need..." You didn't get to finish your sentence, as he shifted his position and smiled.

"No, Love. I won't let you cum until I fucked you thoroughly with my cock," Tommy smiled, unbothered by the fact that you had just dropped the formalities and called him by his first name.

The way he said it, so matter-of-factly, made you realize how much power he held over you, your body. It was an erotic thrill, the thought of being taken by him, of surrendering your body fully to his demands.

"Now, get on to all fours for me Love. It is time!" Tommy ordered, causing you to swallow hard, thinking that this position in particular would be more uncomfortable than you had anticipated.

Nevertheless, you complied, getting onto all fours, presenting your backside to him. You heard the rustle of the sheets behind you, as Tommy undressed, tossing the remainder of his clothes carelessly aside. His powerful presence filled the room, leaving no doubt as to whose domain it truly was.

Your breath hitched as he came up behind you, his hands resting lightly on your hips. He took his time, running his fingers lightly over your body, leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake.

The anticipation was almost unbearable, and yet you couldn't bring yourself to ask him to hurry.

"Are you ready for my cock, Love?" he asked, his voice laced with authority. Your heart pounded faster, the thought of him filling you, bringing not only terror but also a strange sense of exhilaration.

"Yes," you managed to utter, feeling a flush of pride at your own boldness. "I am ready, Mr. Shelby." Your words carried a newfound confidence, a sense of control that had been missing earlier.

Tommy smiled, pleased by your bravery. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your shoulder blade. "Good," he whispered.

"I expect you to take it like a good girl, eh? And I want you to hold nice and still when I fill you," Tommy told you and you could hear the excitement in his voice, a fervour that mirrored your own. He lubricated his fingers, preparing himself for the task ahead. Gently, he pressed a single digit into your entrance, causing you to gasp and clench involuntarily. Slowly, he worked another finger inside of you, stretching you incrementally, building up to what was about to happen next.

"Relax, Love," he instructed gently, his fingers working rhythmically in and out of you. "Let yourself feel the pleasure I'm going to give you." Your breathing became increasingly erratic, your entire focus narrowed to the point where you could only concentrate on his touch.

But, just before you could cum, Tommy removed his fingers and replaced them with his thick cock, which now pushed against your entrance.

"I am going to push in now," Tommy warned you and your eyes widened, your body trembling with anticipation and fear. But there was also a sense of triumph, as if conquering something deeply personal, something that made you feel both vulnerable and powerful at the same time.

You braced yourself, tensing as he began to push into you while you held on to one of the pillows.

"It hurts," you cried out while Tommy watched as his thick length pushed past your pussy lips as he forced another inch into you.

"It's okay, Love. Breathe through it," he murmured, gripping your hips tightly. He knew that you were new to this, that it wouldn't come naturally to you. But you had to learn, you had to adapt.

You gritted your teeth, tears stinging your eyes, feeling the pain sear through your body.

"You are doing well. I am halfway in," Tommy told you as, eventually, he could feel your barrier. Your body tensed even more, but he kept pushing, gradually forcing your virgin walls to yield to his advance.

"This is your first time," he said, his voice full of admiration. "And I will be the one to claim your innocence, eh," Tommy groaned as, with a final forceful thrust, he was entirely sheathed within you, filling you completely.

"Fuck, you are tight," you then heard Tommy curse as you felt a warm kind of liquid tickle down your inner thighs, which you knew may have been blood as Alison had warned you to be the case.

Your body was on fire, and it was only now that you realized the true extent of the physical impact of what had just occurred.

"You are not so innocent anymore," Tommy groaned before slowly beginning to thrust in and out of you and you closed your eyes, trying to ignore the pain.

Your body ached everywhere, yet a strange kind of pleasure mixed with the pain coursed through you.

"Now tell me Love, who do you belong to?" Tommy asked, his voice gruff with desire. You couldn't believe you were really having this conversation, yet somehow, the heat of his body against yours and the ache inside you caused by his cock, made you believe it was real.

"I belong to you, Mr. Shelby," you replied, your voice shaking slightly. Despite the immense pain, your response was met with a smile of approval from Tommy.

He pulled out slightly, allowing you a moment to catch your breath, before plunging back in, harder this time.

"That's right Love. You belong to me," he groaned as he picked up the pace, thrusting into you harder and faster. Your body was starting to adjust to the intrusion, and despite the pain, a deep and powerful wave of pleasure washed over you with each thrust. The rhythmic slap of his hips against yours filled the room, drowning out everything else.

You bit your lip, trying to maintain composure as you clung desperately to the pillow, your nails digging into the fabric. You could feel yourself getting closer to the edge, but you weren't quite there yet.

Just as you were about to reach the peak, Tommy suddenly stopped, pulling out of you with a grunt.

"What are you doing?" you cried out, frustrated and disoriented by the sudden change.

"Shhh, Love," he whispered, placing a finger on your lips. "Just trust me." His intense gaze held yours, making it difficult for you to resist him. You nodded hesitantly, unsure of what he had planned.

Without warning, Tommy scooped you up in his arms, carrying you effortlessly across the room.

You gasped in surprise, wondering what was happening.

"Where are we going?" you asked nervously, unable to hide your apprehension.

"Trust me, Love," Tommy reassured you with a gentle smile. "You'll see."

As he reached the window, he carefully lowered you onto the ledge, standing close enough to support you if needed. Together, you looked out over the land surrounding Arrow House, the moonlight casting a silver glow upon the landscape below as well as the streets of Birmingham, far in the distance.

"Do you see this?" he asked, gesturing toward the breathtaking view. "This is mine. All of it. Everything you see here, belongs to me." He paused, turning to face you with a look of determination in his eyes. "You too, belong to me. You are my fucking property and I want you to remember that every time you look at these streets, these buildings, everything that makes up this empire."

A cold chill ran down your spine, understanding the weight of his words. You were nothing more than a possession, belonging to him like any other material thing he owned.

The thought of being considered as valuable as the buildings below filled you with both anger and shame. You wanted to argue, to protest, but you couldn't deny the truth in his words.

"Now bend down, Love. I want to fuck you some more," Tommy growled, his voice low and commanding. Feeling the power in his words, you bent over the ledge, presenting yourself to him once again. He grabbed your hips firmly, positioning you perfectly. The wind gently brushed against your skin, chilling you to the core, but it didn't stop you from obeying him.

"That's it, good girl," he cooed as he lined himself up with your sore entrance again.

You felt the familiar burning sensation as he entered you once more, your muscles struggling to relax around his sizeable member.

"Remember, you belong to me, and I can do whatever I want with you," Tommy reminded you as he started to thrust into you.

Your cheeks flushed red as you felt a mixture of humiliation and arousal at his words.

You bit your lip hard, trying to focus on anything but the sensation of him sliding in and out of you.

With every thrust, you could feel him claiming you, marking you as his own. The intensity of his grip on your hips left no doubt about the strength of his dominance over you. It was as though he was branding you with his touch, leaving an indelible mark that would forever be a part of you.

"Come on, Love," he urged, his voice rough with passion.

"Take me deeper." You obeyed instinctively, burying your nails into his shoulders, holding onto him for dear life. The pleasure-pain combination was reaching new heights, making you realize how unprepared you were for this intense experience.

As the tempo increased, the wind howled, matching the frenzy of your own cries. The air turned colder, sending shivers through your body, only making you crave more of his touch.

"You are making a mess all over the floor Love," Tommy groaned playfully, his grip on your hips tightening.

"I am sorry," you managed to utter, barely able to form the words due to the intensity of the sensations coursing through you.

"No apologies," he snapped, a dark gleam in his eye. "You enjoy it, don't you? Letting yourself go, feeling the sensations washing over you."

"Yes," you moaned, finding yourself helplessly lost in the moment.

"Good girl," he praised, his thrusts becoming even more forceful.

"Keep looking out, let it remind you whose property you truly are." You obeyed, feeling your resolve waver under the intensity of his touch. The cold wind whipped against your skin, adding another layer of discomfort to your situation. Yet, the pain seemed to amplify the exquisite pleasure coursing through your body.

His grip on your hips tightened as he continued to move in and out of you, the rhythm matching the beat of your heart.

Your cries became louder, mingling with the wind and echoing through the silent corridors of Arrow House. As your body trembled from the intense sensations, you tried to suppress the growing fear that overwhelmed you. How could you possibly give yourself fully to such a man without losing yourself in the process?

With each thrust, you felt your connection to Thomas deepen, your vulnerability exposed, and your independence diminished. You found yourself struggling to reconcile the reality of your situation with the idealized image of love and devotion you had envisioned for yourself.

"Do you want to cum?" Tommy eventually asked, seeing that you could not take too much more of this.

You nodded vigorously, eager to release the pent-up tension coursing through your body.

He continued to thrust into you at a faster pace, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. You felt a building pressure within you, an uncontrollable need to explode.

"Cum for me, Love," he commanded, his grip on your hips tightening further.

Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, engulfing you in a wave of pleasure unlike anything you had ever experienced before.

Your entire body shook with the intensity of it, your grip on the ledge tightening almost painfully.

"So good, isn't it?" Tommy asked, his eyes burning with pride. You couldn't find the words to answer him, still reeling from the aftershocks of your climax as he sped up again, finding his very own release.

Sweat dripped down your forehead, mingling with the tears that stained your cheeks. The cold wind whipped against your heated skin, adding another layer of discomfort to your situation. Yet, the pain seemed to amplify the exquisite pleasure coursing through your body.

"Almost there Love. I am going to cum in this virgin cunt of yours, eh" Tommy groaned loudly, the sound filling the quietness of the night as your orgasm subsided and you felt increasingly sore.

"You better learn to love this feeling because it's going to become the norm. I will fill your holes with my cum every fucking day from now on," Tommy howled as he thrusted into you harder and you tried to catch your breath as you struggled to understand the extent of your submission to him.

His harsh, possessive tone only served to make you tremble in fear and arousal simultaneously. You knew then that there was no escape from this life, no way to break free from his grasp.

"Y/N," he growled, pounding into you with renewed ferocity. "Your body belongs to me. Your pleasures are mine to control. Do you understand?"

Swallowing thickly, you nodded reluctantly, your throat raw from earlier cries. "Yes," you whispered, barely audible even to yourself.

"Good girl," he praised, his thrusts becoming even more forceful as your cries became louder, mingling with the wind and echoing through the silent corridors of Arrow House.

"Now, hold nice and still for me, eh" Tommy groaned, pulsating inside of you, and filling you with his warm seed.

"Fuck," Tommy groaned, pumping himself into you until he finally shot his entire load into you.

His body convulsed in ecstasy, and you felt the hot stickiness of his semen pouring into you, mixing with your very own wetness and the blood from your torn innocence until, eventually, he pulled out of your sore pussy.

"Look at that Love. Look at you leaking my cum," Tommy cooed, forcing you to turn around and making you look down at your soiled body, stained with his seed and the evidence of your lost virginity.

"It's going to happen a lot more often now, eh?" Tommy smirked while your body was still trembling from the force of your orgasm.

"Yes Mr. Shelby. I will be at your service whenever you need," you said, your voice wavering slightly as you regained your composure. You looked away, unable to meet his gaze as you processed the implications of his last statement.

"Good girl," he said, the praise laced with his characteristic blend of authority and desire. He placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, causing you to flinch involuntarily. His eyes flashed with a mix of tenderness and menace, his expression conveying the complexity of his feelings towards you.

You took a deep breath, trying to regain your bearings after the intense encounter.

You stared at the mess you had made on the floor, feeling a strange mixture of shame and excitement. You glanced back at Thomas, who stood proudly watching you with a satisfied grin on his face. Your heart raced as you began to comprehend the true extent of your predicament – you were now owned by him, bound to fulfill his desires whenever he wished.

As you stood there, the wind whipping around you, you realized just how far you had come from the innocent young woman you once were.

"Now, you should get cleaned up Love. I am sure Alison explained the procedure to you?" Tommy asked casually, breaking the silence that had fallen upon you both.

"Yes, she did. She said it is to avoid pregnancy," you answered, feeling a sudden surge of panic at the thought of getting pregnant.

"Correct, so I will leave you to it, eh?" Tommy smiled, his fingers brushing against your cheek affectionately.

"Thank you, Mr. Shelby," you replied, attempting to mask your anxiety behind a veil of gratitude.

He gave you a slight nod before turning and walking towards the door, leaving you alone to process the events of the evening.

Standing there, you found yourself surrounded by the evidence of your defilement - the sweaty sheets tangled around your legs, the faint scent of sex in the air, and the knowledge that your innocence was irreparably shattered. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you thought about the future that lay ahead of you.

Even though you had been warned about what might happen, experiencing it firsthand left you reeling.

Your entire body ached from the intense physical exertion, yet your mind still buzzed with the aftermath of your loss of innocence. The cold draft of the night seeped through the open window, chilling your naked skin and reminding you of the vulnerability you felt.

This was your life now and, for some twisted reason, you already enjoyed it.

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