#✨ain’t i good at this???✨ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mermaidgirl30 · 6 months ago

Text

✨Caught In the Act✨

Pre-outbreak! Joel Miller x Roommate! fem reader

A/N: Thank you to @littlevenicebitch69 for showing me that video that sparked the inspiration for this fic 😘 No beta, but I had so much fun writing this one!

Summary: Thinking you’re home alone, you decide to unwind in bed, but the last thing you expect is to have Joel Miller, the man you’re renting a room from, find you naked in bed.

Word Count: 4.1k

Rating: Explicit 18+ Only MDNI

Tags: Vibrator use, porn with plot, yearning, feelings, infatuation, fingering, unprotected piv, creampie, dirty talk, roommates

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The sunlight trickles against the sheer curtains as the room swelters with heat. The buzzing sounds fill the bedroom as your hips rock against the silk sheets, your fingers curling with every meticulous circle the vibrator makes against your swollen clit.

“Joel,” you moan freely, knowing he isn’t home, not at this hour of the day. It’s just you and your breathy whispers of his name, pretending the vibrator is his thick fingers stifling an orgasm from your needy clit, pretending the dampening sheets are his greying tousled curls as you tug and pull, pretending his large tongue is consuming you entirely as another moan slips from your lips.

You shouldn’t be thinking about the man you’re renting a room from like this, shouldn’t be moaning his name while your vibrator is pressed firmly against your bundle of nerves, but you just can’t help yourself. He’s just so hot the way his veiny hands open whiskey bottles as his strong muscles clench tight around his button-up flannels he always looks so damn good in. And he’s so fucking sexy the way he smirks while his Southern drawl falls from his plush lips every single time he talks to you with those big brown eyes that you just want to sink into. You can’t help but want him all the time, even though you really shouldn’t.

“Ohhh, fuck,” you whine as you hit that spot, right where it feels like you’re about to shed your orgasm at any second. So you speed up your motions, pressing down harder as you moan his name again, letting it fall off your lips like he’s here with you now, like he’s taking you exactly how you like it.

You’re breathing so hard and focusing on your ragged breaths and the sounds of the whirring vibrator that you don’t even hear the door being jarred open or see the brooding man that stands against your bedroom door. You don’t notice until you hear that thick, undeniable voice that only belongs to one man. That man being Joel fucking Miller.

“Jesus Christ, sweetheart. Moanin’ my name and I ain’t even touchin’ you? Must want it bad,” he chuckles, a large smirk pressed on his mouth as he leans with crossed arms against your painted door frame.

You jump from the sudden intrusion and shut the vibrator off, panting and sweating from your almost orgasm as you work to throw the covers over your naked body. “Jesus, Joel! I didn’t know you were home. I'm sorry… I.” Fuck. This wasn’t supposed to happen, he wasn’t supposed to see you like this!

He stops you mid sentence, holding up his large palm as he clears his throat. “Ain’t gotta apologize, sweetheart. Why don’t you just carry on? Besides, I could hear you moanin’ my name the moment I stepped in the house. Not gonna lie, it kinda turned me on. And then walkin’ in and seein’ this? Well, jus’ pull those covers back and let me see that pretty glistenin’ pussy. You want a little assistance there?” he nods, eyes darkening into black pits as you see the outline of his hard cock beneath his worn jeans.

You swallow and choke on your own spit, eyes widening as you slowly reveal your slick center to him once again as you spread your legs wide. “There ya go, sweetheart. Look at how fuckin’ wet you are. Goddamn,” he groans as he rakes a large hand slowly over his greying scruff. “Go on, be a good girl and turn the vibrator back on for me,” he replies in a raspy tone that sets your core on fire.

You slowly press the button, letting the vibrations slow your pounding heart rate as you stare up at the man you’ve been dreaming about from the moment you stepped foot into this house. “You want me to…”

He nods, dropping his jaw open as he takes in just how wet you already are for him. “Yeah, put it back on that pretty clit, sweetheart. Wanna see.”

Your mouth parts open the moment you place it on your throbbing mound, your mouth dropping open as you gaze up into pitch black eyes that want to consume you whole. You hold in a moan, spreading your legs wider as the vibrator circles against your puffy clit, but what feels even better is Joel standing there drinking down the image of you getting yourself off while he watches.

“Goddamn, darlin’. Look at you,” he whistles, untucking his flannel shirt from his jeans as he stalks over to the edge of the bed, kicking his boots off as his body weight makes the bed cave as he crawls on top of the sheets.

“Joel,” you whine, watching his big black eyes come closer as he props himself up beside you, one hand coming down on top of yours while the other tucks a lock of hair behind your ear.

“Let me jus’ give you a hand there, sweetheart. Let me take control,” he growls, grabbing onto the end of the vibrator as he presses it further into your folds, circling slow, meticulous circles as he draws a breathy moan from you.

“That’s it, Attagirl,” he praises as your back arches off the bed, taking the vibrator a level up as he grinds it against your slick folds.

“Ooooh, fuck,” you whine, twisting your fingers into the soft material of his flannel while his gorgeous face hangs just over yours, his big eyes making another wave of slick slip from your center.

“Feels good, don’t it? Yeah, right there,” he purrs as he pushes it down close to your dripping hole, hitting that one special spot that makes your legs start to shake.

“Yes, Joel. Please, don’t stop,” you beg as you grip his forearm with a tight fist.

“I’m not gonna stop till that pretty pussy’s soakin’ my hand, sweetheart,” he smirks, turning the vibrations up even higher as your body hums with electricity from his touch. “If I would’ve known sooner that you’ve been wantin’ this, I would’ve already been on my knees with my mouth between your thighs,” he groans as another moan comes crashing through the room.

You start to feel the coils snap in your belly, and then hot heat starts to slide down your spine as your orgasm starts to break. “Joel, I’m not gonna - fuck, I’m coming!” you scream as you let the floodgates open and latch on to his veiny wrist.

“Jesus Chris, you’re fuckin’ soakin’ me,” he says in awe as slick sprays from your pussy, coating his hand in your release as your back arches off the mattress and your body hums with your intense orgasm. Joel works you through it, calling you a good girl as he shuts the vibrator off and just slowly circles it over your aching center until you’re coherent enough to open your eyes and breathe normally again.

He throws the vibrator to the side and slides a calloused hand carefully from your neckline, in between your breasts, skating down your abdomen, and ending right above your mound. He smiles down at you as he takes his time to ghost his fingers over your soaked folds, stifling a whimper from your lips as he hovers over your puffy clit.

“You look so pretty comin’ undone, darlin’. Wanna see it again, this time wanna really feel it.” He presses the pad of his thumb down on your bundle of nerves, drawing meticulous circles, making you cant your hips up as you soak in the way his fingers feel like pure magic.

“Oh god, please,” you beg, throwing your head back as he slips a finger inside your dripping hole.

“I got you, sweetheart. Gonna make you feel real good now, jus’ hold tight.” Before you know what’s coming, he crashes his lips down on yours and swallows a moan as he curls another finger inside, stretching your walls as he reaches that soft spongy spot that you can never reach yourself.

You lean into the kiss, breathing in his woodsy scent, tasting the sweat of the Austin sun on his lips, feeling the way he slips his tongue inside your mouth and swallows every sound you make while he repeatedly fucks his fingers deep inside your pussy, making you feel like you’re floating on thin air.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pushing your fingers through his dark tousled curls as a groan leaves his lips and enters your mouth while he repeatedly takes the breath from your lips. He licks inside you while his thick fingers make wet, obscene sounds as he fucks deeper, uncoiling that same tension he already snapped just minutes ago as he repeats the process all over again.

He unhooks from your lips, finds a steady rhythm as he slips from your hole and full on rocks his fingers up and down your folds, brushing the heel of his wrist over your puffy clit that screams for him to take you over the edge again.

The room is suddenly too hot with his weight on your chest, his expert fingers moving at an impossibly fast pace as your core burns hot and bright, begging for him to make you come again.

“Jesus, fuck - I’m right there. God, it feels so fucking good, Joel,” you stifle as your jaw slackens and your body starts to vibrate the more his fingers work and work at your core.

He slips two fingers back inside you, hitting that one spot that makes you see stars, and then he’s whispering filthy words against your parted lips. “Such a good fuckin’ girl lettin’ me use these fingers on that pretty pussy, wonder what you’d feel like takin’ my cock next,” he smirks as he nips at your bottom lip, pulling another moan from your throat.

“Please, Joel,” you beg.

“Is that an invitation, sweetheart?” he chuckles, raising a thick eyebrow as he looks you deep in the eyes with those beautiful brown eyes that are blown wide.

“Yes, want your cock, Joel. Want you to - oh, fill me up - fuck,” you whine as you feel your release start to flow down your insides.

“Yeah, fuckin’ spill for me, that’s it. Atta fuckin’ girl,” he growls as he presses deep inside that spongy spot, and then you’re completely done for. The slick pools down your core, covering Joel’s knuckles and the inside of your thighs as the orgasm takes a hold and knocks your head back against the cotton pillow.

“That’s it. So pretty, baby,” he coos as he works you through it once again.

The fog fills your brain as every euphoric feeling takes its hold on you, holding you down against the damp sheets as you focus on the man that hangs above you. When you finally come to your senses, Joel uncurls his fingers from your core and pops the digits into his mouth, sucking and groaning as he indulges in your sweet taste.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, you taste better than a shot of whiskey,” he groans as he delves his fingers back inside you, collecting slick on the tips of his calloused fingers and brings it up to your lips. “Open up, sweetheart. Try a taste,” he purrs.

You part your lips and allow him to enter. You take his two fingers and suck, glancing at him with glazed over eyes as your sweet taste slides down the back of your throat.

“Goddamn. That’s picture worthy, sweetheart. You suckin’ on my fingers while you lick off your own slick? Jesus Christ, you’re gonna fuckin’ ruin me,” he murmurs as he looks at you with wide, blown out eyes.

You giggle as you tip your head up, wrapping your fingers around the collar of his flannel as you tug, pulling just enough to expose a trail of dark chest hair that’s saturated in sweat. “Just like you’ll ruin me. But I’m okay with that. Just need you right now,” you pant out, popping open more of the buttons of his flannel until he gets the hint and throws it off, exposing his broad, muscular chest that’s beaded in glistening sweat, and his happy trail disappears under the material of his dark jeans.

“You want me inside you, sweetheart?” he whispers as you hurriedly unbuckle his belt and start popping open the top button.

“Yes, want your cock inside me. Please, I need you,” you beg as he smiles down at you with glossy brown eyes.

“Need me to fill you up? Want me to fuck you nice ‘n deep?” he smirks as he unzips his jeans and slides them off his legs, his boxers following swiftly after.

You gulp as his massive cock springs up against his soft tummy, taking in just how big he is as precum spills from the slit. You gawk at him when he wraps a hand around his large length and starts spreading the precum up and down his shaft meticulously.

“Mhm,” is all you can get out as you watch him stroke himself up and down. Fuck.

“Spread those legs then, sweetheart,” he smirks as he positions himself right between your legs. You can only whine and knead your breasts together as he takes the tip and slides it along your folds, collecting slick on his swollen tip that’s red and throbbing just for you. He rubs it along your overstimulated clit and chuckles when you pant his name out.

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he drawls as he positions himself at the entrance of your sopping wet hole. “Such a messy girl, too. All this for me? Goddamn. Gonna fill you up real good.” Before you have time to say anything, he thrusts inside you, filling you so full as you gasp at the wide stretch he makes.

“Jesus Christ, you’re tight, darlin’. Jus’ needed this big cock to stretch you out, s’that right?” he groans, caging you in with his muscular arms as he ruts deeper inside you, filling you to the brim with every languid stroke of his massive cock.

You throw your head back, clawing your nails down his broad back as you moan nonsense while he generously slides his thick length back and forth, slipping out just enough to ram back inside you with a sting to your insides as his tip continually kisses the back of your cervix.

It’s like you can’t get enough, need more of him, need every inch of his skin to crawl into yours as he takes you to the edge again. You’ve never felt a stretch like this, never been so cock hungover, not until Joel fucking Miller slipped inside you, and you’re afraid you won’t ever get enough of him now.

“More,” you beg, panting from every motion of the snap of his hips, moaning every time he’s deep inside your clenched walls, splitting them open with every single rutting motion he gives.

“You want more, sweetheart? I’ll give you more. Yeah, give you jus’ what you want,” he smirks as he bends your knees up, folding you into a pancake shape as he crawls over you with his beautiful, broad body. “Careful what you ask for. Might not be able to take it,” he chuckles, eyes darkening with trouble written all over them.

He spears inside you, thrusting so deep that you swear you feel him inside your stomach, hitting that spongy spot that makes you gasp as your back arches off the damp sheets. “Fuckkkk,” you moan, your voice carrying through the entire room as his deep grunts collide with yours.

“Yeah, s’right. Take it,” he growls, nipping at your collarbone as your fingers fist in his tousled curls. “Be a good girl and come on my cock,” he demands as his hips thrust violently against yours.

You have no more control. The room is heavy and hot as your musk and sweat collect over the other, your fingers dragging down his back as you clench up and let your sweet release slip out, coating him in your slick. “Joel, feels - fuck, I’m coming,” you moan into the shell of his ear.

He stills his thrusts for a few seconds, feeling your walls clench around his cock as you start to soak him, the flow not stopping even as you tilt your head back and scream from the blistering heat that settles in your core.

“Oh, that’s a good fuckin’ girl. Squeezin’ so tight, milkin’ me with that slippery cum, Jesus Christ,” he moans as he thrusts back into you, not wasting a moments time as he chases his own release.

You settle into a fog, his deep pants and groans reverberating off the walls as his heavy hands settle on your hips, fucking into you so deep that you feel drunk and so full of him that you swear you should be satiated, but you’re not. You’d let him pump you full of his cock all night in every different position, if only you could continue to do this night after night.

“‘M not gonna last, sweetheart. Where do you want me?” He grinds his teeth together in concentration as he tries to hold it in just a little longer.

“Inside me. Fill me up, handsome,” you purr.

His jaw ticks, and something like fire lights in his glossy eyes, and a devilish smirk forms on his plush lips as he thrusts once, twice, three more times and then pounds you as hard as he can. He leans his forehead against yours and lets out a guttural groan, feeling the white ropes of cum paint the back of your cervix as he gushes all inside you.

“Fuck me,” he moans, not willing to move till he has all of him spilled inside your walls. He slowly pulls out of you, and you feel the warmth of your own slick and his release mix together as it gushes outside your pussy and down your thighs.

“Look at you, such a pretty little mess you are, ain’t ya,” he smiles, staring at your legs splayed wide as he dips a finger down against folds, collecting the mixed cum together on his index finger. “Open up, pretty girl,” he smirks.

He takes his index finger and slots it between your glossy lips, letting you lick and suck on his finger. You swear his eyes widen even further as his black pupils expand into pure lust. “So good,” you moan, wrapping your lips around his finger as you tease and suck on his slick covered digit.

“Goddamn, look at you. You’re jus’ a wicked little tease, ain’t ya?” he groans, dragging the finger from your lips and pulling it into his warm mouth, sucking with a deliciously hungry groan that makes your eyes widen with heat. “Delicious,” he smirks as he pops his own digit from his mouth, grinding out another moan from your throat as he topples on the bed beside you.

You both breathe raggedly as you look from one to the other, both locked in a heated staring match, his fingertips lingering on the back of your neck as he pulls you closer to his glistening chest. “That was…”

“Unexpected, but amazin’ all the same,” he finishes with a smile curled around his mouth. “You’re tellin’ me you’ve been livin’ in this house for moments, and you weren’t plannin’ on tellin’ me you thought ‘bout me in bed?” His eyebrows raise, and he looks at you square in the eyes, a sly smirk crossing his mouth.

“I didn’t wanna risk getting kicked out,” you say with your lips molded together in a tight gesture.

“Kicked out, huh?” He chuckles and shakes his tousled curls. “Sweetheart, I found you in your bed moanin’ my name. Hell, you could’ve told me that first day you walked in. Think I would’ve taken you right there on the counter if I knew you were into me,” he chuckles.

“Get out of here,” you laugh as you playfully push him in the chest. “You would not have.”

“Oh yes I would. Thought you were a knockout from the minute you came through the front door with those little daisy dukes and those beautiful eyes. Shit, I’ve had a thing for you since day one, sweetheart.”

You purse your lips and give him a once over, assessing his genuine brown eyes that seem covered in softness. Holy shit. He’s being serious. “Really?” you ask breathlessly.

“Really,” he nods, curling his fingers through your hair and pulling you forward, till your mouth collides with his in a long, sensuous kiss that sends music running through your ears. His lips feel like velvet, and his tongue tastes like cinnamon.

When you fall away from his lips, he smiles. “We gonna make this a habit?”

“Do you want to make this a habit?” you ask with a raised brow, hope stirring in your chest.

“I mean, ‘course I do, darlin’. A pretty thing like you should be fucked well and taken on nice dates. Think we got the fuckin’ part down, jus’ gotta take ya to dinner now.” He winks and flashes his honey-glazed eyes, and you feel as if you could drown in those syrupy eyes.

“That what you tell all the girls who turn into your roommate?” you giggle.

“Now, sweetheart. You’re rentin’ a room from me. If you wanna be roommates, then technically you’d need to stay in my room, in my bed, in my arms,” he smiles as he pulls you flush to his broad chest, draping an arm around the back of your hip as his fingers softly tease at your soft skin.

You hum into his touch, giving him a dreamy smile as you drag your nails against his silver scruff. “Roommates, huh? Is that what we’re gonna be?”

“Roommates, fuck buddies, lovers… s’hard to say, darlin’. But I like you, and I’d like to explore whatever this is.” His tone is so sincere that it makes butterflies flit through your stomach at the possibilities of what this could turn out to be.

You push your fingers through his messy curls, reveling over his deep groans as you drag your nails down his scalp. “I like you too, Joel. A lot, actually,” you blush.

“Figured as much when I caught you moanin’ my name while usin’ that little vibrator on your pretty pink pussy,” he winks, making you blush at the way he drags out the words and keeps his brown eyes locked tight on yours.

You shake your head and groan when he drags his thick thumb over your lower lip. “Bet I’m not the only one. What have you been thinking about at night, in the shower, in your bed?” you smirk, making his cheeks redden at the mention of it.

“Yeah, yeah, sweetheart. You know I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout you, too. Been wonderin’ how sweet you were. Turns out you’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever put my lips on.” He curls his lips into a delicious smile and flips you over to where your back is flush with his sweat-covered chest, lacing his calloused fingers with yours as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, his scruff scratching softly along your jawline.

You lay there in the twisted sheets, inhaling the musk that makes up Joel Miller, embedding his woodsy pine scent deep into your memory. This feels… right, like this is where you’ve always belonged, in his arms.

“How’s ’bout I take you on a date Friday night? We could go see a movie, I’ll buy you a big thing of popcorn, hold your hand, maybe pull you into my lap so I can kiss you all I want, then I’ll take you back home and make love to you in my bed all night long.” He places a gentle kiss to your cheek, and you melt into the feel of him.

You squeeze his hand and brush your lips over his knuckles, giving him a lazy smile as you turn to look back at him over your shoulder. “Okay, cowboy. You’ve got a deal.”

He brushes his lips over yours and pulls you close so he can trace his lips over the shell of your ear. “Alright, pretty girl. It’s a date. Now, how ‘bout we go take a shower, and I can make you some dinner. Maybe go for round two after with my mouth between those pretty thighs of yours,” he whispers as a chill runs down your spine, heat building back in your core.

You huff out a laugh and stifle a groan. “Mmmm, alright then, cowboy. I’m all in.”

He presses his lips against yours and then tugs you up from the bed, lacing his fingers with yours as he leads you to his room. “Gonna take you for the ride of your life, sweetheart,” he smirks.

“I’m counting on it,” you smile.

And so it begins.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #Joel Miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel x female reader #tlou fanfiction #joel the last of us #pre outbreak!joel #joel miller au #joel miller fan fiction #smut

1K notes · View notes

rafeyscurtainbangs · 4 months ago

Text

Milkshake - Rafe Cameron One Shot

+18 Minor DNI

OlderPerv!Rafe x BestFriend!Reader

both are in their 30’s

⭐️ republished ⭐️

+18 Minor DNI

🪄 (spoilers) Cheating, swearing, name-calling, oral (male receiving), cum play, choking, Rafe’s a perv 🚩, has pictures and videos of reader w/out her consent, mentions listening to her masterbate,fetishizes simple things (reader licking whipped cream and drinking from a straw) because he’s a perv

📖 OlderPerv!Rafe is obsessed with his best friend (reader) and is willing to do whatever it takes to get you. Based off of an ask: Perv daddys best friend paying yn to only put the tip into her Because thats not really cheating on his wife it is not all the way in is it? But it feels so good too her and she just pushes herself all the way down rafe is totaly in awe as she starts riding him Her putting his hands on her tits

✨ “What?” You cut him off, pulling back a little, staring into his lust-blown eyes. He leans in, not wanting to explain any further. You take your hand, resting it on his neck, pushing him back to the headrest, making his eyes flutter shut. Rafe releases a primal groan, the vibrations felt against your palm. He likes this. You squeeze his throat a little tighter, making him moan. ✨

2.8 K lightly edited (<- mostly smut)

Reader’s POV:

“My mouth is watering, Rafe,” you groan. “This is torture.”

His eyes cut over to yours, rolling back in annoyance. “If you think you’re drinking a milkshake in my car, you’re crazy. I don’t even let my wife bring food in here. This ride is my baby. It’s ten-minute tops.”

“You don’t eat or drink in your car… ever?” You pout, poking out your bottom lip as you look around his pristine ride. The answer is so plainly written in the details.

“You can fuck up my bimmer, my G-Wagon, hell even my Escalade. Aight? Dealer’s choice. But you’re not eatin’ in the DB5.”

“Did this come with your mid-life crisis starter pack or what?”

Rafe sucks his teeth and laughs. “Yeah. Yeah. This and that fleshlight-“

“TMI!”

“TMI?” He gasps through a laugh. “It’s the only thing fuckin’ me these days. M’always in the doghouse. Always…”

“What did you do this time, Cameron?”

“Nothin’.”

“Bull-fuckin’-shit,” you retort. Rafe rakes back his hair nervously, scratching at his 5 o’clock shadow. Fuck, he’s handsome… You stare at him a little more. His head snaps your way, catching you with a smirk on his lips.

“You like what you see or what?” He challenges.

You roll your eyes and scoff. “What did you do, Ray,” you mimic his Sofia’s voice, making him cringe.

“Fuck, you’re too good at that. Don’t do that shit.”

“What?” You mock her again.

“Like nails on a chalkboard. I swear. Use your voice. Please.”

“Mhmm… If you let me eat in your car and IF you tell me why you’re in trouble.”

“You’re a nosy little shit. You know that?”

“Ray…” You breathe in her tone again.

“Shut up about your goddamn milkshake,” he huffs. “It ain’t gonna happen. What adult drinks a milkshake anyways?”

“It’s got booze in it.”

“And?” He sasses.

“Island Club makes the best mudslides. You know that. Stop stalling and tell me what’s up.”

“Fine! She found pictures on my phone. Okay?”

“Pictures?”

“Pictures.”

“Of what?”

“It’s personal.”

“Of who?”

“Leave me alone!”

“Pussy.”

“It’s none of your goddamn business. Alright?”

You turn toward him, dramatically swiping your finger across the whipped cream, bringing it to your mouth. Rafe’s eyes dart from you to the road and back. “C’mon, Rafey.” You slip your finger between your lips, leaving a little mess on the bottom. Rafe lifts an eyebrow in your direction, a smirk pulling on his perfect lips.

He punches the gas, making you grip your seat wide-eyed. “We’re almost there,” he smiles as his car barrels through the night. Your heart starts to race along with the speed of his Aston Martin, the pointer kissing seventy miles an hour.

“R-Rafe. The speed limit is twenty-five.”

“It’s optional.”

“Rafe!” You squeal, grabbing onto the door as you round a tight curve. He lets out a wild laugh, eyes trained on the road ahead as the engine roars.

“This is so fucking dangerous!”

“Please… You should have thought about it before you did whatever the fuck that was,” he groans. “And it isn’t dangerous, baby. You’re safe.” Baby…

The trees around you melt into the night as you fly by them. Nothing is visible but the road before you. Rafe doesn’t look frightened in the slightest, completely confident, blissed out even. “Where are we even going?” You spit.

“Our spot.”

“Our spot? What spot?”

“The spot where we smoked weed for the first time… Riddler Cove – Beach Access,” he blurts breathlessly. “You were wearin’ that little red bikini,” he smiles as he wets his bottom lip, twisting his hands a little tighter on the steering wheel as he recalls something from 16 years ago.

Rafe reaches for the speaker, cranking up the music. The bass bumps in your chest, dueling with the rapid beating of your heart. You see the Riddler Cove parking lot come into view, vast darkness stretching ahead as you near the water. He smiles in your direction, his mood changing in an instant. A shameful look spreads on his face as he slows his roll. “I should have asked,” he sighs. “I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Jesus Christ. Just give me a fucking warning next time,” you let out a nervous laugh, punching his arm hard. Rafe coasts down the route, sailing into the vacant parking lot. Your heart rate slows, and your grip loosens on the leather seat.

Rafe quickly cuts off the engine, turning toward you hastily, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Show me.”

”Show you what?“ You laugh lightly as you turn your body toward him again.

His eyes lower from yours, landing on your cleavage. Rafe’s breath hitches as he takes in the sight of your tits pressed together. ”Uhh.. That thing you did with the whipped cream. Show me again. It wasn’t fair… I didn’t get to see.“

Your cheeks burn from your smile. You shake your head dizzily. “No, Rafe.”

“Pretty please.”

“We’re friends. What the fuck do you wanna see that for?”

“Why did you do that in the first place? Huh? What do you expect from me?”

“I don’t know…” You scoff. “Perv.”

“‘Scuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“I’m no perv. I’m just a guy. Sue me.”

“If I do it again, will you let me have my shake in here?” You relax your head into the seat, fluttering your lashes.

“If you do it again, you can have whatever you want.”

“Depends then. Are you telling me your secrets?”

“You don’t wanna know.”

“I really, really wanna know,” you smile.

“Ugh. FUCK! Fine. They were… pictures of – well… Pictures of you.”

“We’re best friends. Why wouldn’t you have pictures of me?” You sneer as you think about his perfect little housewife.

“Uh… Yeah. Not those kinds,” he laughs weakly.

“Tell me. Please.” You throw your gaze down to the shake, hand drawing toward it slowly. Swiping again, you collect the sweet cream on your finger, bringing it to your lips.

Rafe’s gaze follows you closely, watching as it passes your lips, grazing your tongue. His lips mirror your own, slightly parted. You leave a little mess just like before. “Kelce,” he mumbles, too lost in the moment to even think straight.

“Excuse me?” You laugh breathily.

“Sorry – umm,” he fumbles as he watches your tongue slide across your lip. “You guys dated.”

“Duh,” you scoff.

“Been… Mmm,” he moans, watching you wrap your lips around the straw, watching you suck.

“Been?”

“I’ve been stealing your nudes off his phone for years.”

“Rafe!” You gasp through a broad nervous smile.

“Yeah – Yeah. You seem real upset about it, sweetheart,” he teases you as you try to act serious about it all.

“Why? I mean do you want me?”

“Obviously. I’d do anything. I mean anything to have you,” he sighs. “Even a little.”

“Even a little?” You ask, riding off the high of your beautiful best friend’s admittance. I mean, I should be upset, but I’m not. Not in the slightest.

“Just the tip. Please,” he pleads. “I’ll – I’ll pay you even.”

“Jesus, Rafe. Pay me? What the hell?”

“No – No. Stop. Think of it as a thank you. Okay? And it’s just the tip, so it’s not technically cheatin’.”

“Would your Sofia say the same?” You ask.

“Do you care?” He questions louder as he cocks an eyebrow in your direction. You think about it momentarily, shaking your head no before looking back into his beautiful blue eyes. “I don’t.”

“Yeah. That’s what I thought. So, please,” Rafe whispers, lessening the space between you.

“I should be upset about the pictures, Cameron,” you whisper as you match his movements.

“You really, really should be. But you aren’t,” he subsists as his lips hover mere inches from yours. Rafe’s hand works up your arm, toiling around the back of your neck. “10k.”

“10? Are you kidding?”

“I’ll make it 15 if you stop askin’ questions-”

“Deal.” His lips crash into his, taking your breath away. Mouths, parting; tongue, greeting his as you throw your seatbelt off. Rafe reaches for you, pulling you onto his lap. He grabs your hips, driving you closer. You can feel the chill of your wetness as your panties graze his belt buckle, making you moan softly into your kiss. Rafe smiles against your lips.

“20 if you just let me play a little,” Rafe hums like he snorted a line, finally getting his fix. “20 G’s.”

“Rafe…”

“I’m serious. No more questioning me. C’mon. Your moans sound so much prettier close like this-” he pants.

“What?” You cut him off, pulling back a little, staring into his lust-blown eyes. He leans in, not wanting to explain any further. You take your hand, resting it on his neck, pushing him back to the headrest, making his eyes flutter shut. Rafe releases a primal groan, the vibrations felt against your palm. He likes this. You squeeze his throat a little tighter, making him moan.

“Fuckkk,” he drawls. “You’re killing me,“ he rasps.

You lean in closer, brushing your lips against his, making him whine when you pull away slightly, causing him to chase your mouth. “How do you know what it sounds like when I moan, Rafe?” You whisper against his lips.

“I’ve heard it before. So, so, so many times…”

“How?”

“Through the wall, on my phone, out your window, behind a door. I know what it sounds like when you cum on your fingers, your vibrator, or a dick. Just – Just please don’t stop. I’m sorry. 40… Alright? 40k. 50 if you let me take off your clothes. Me. Not you.”

He rests his head on your shoulder, burying himself in your neck as you think. His lips press against your skin; wet kisses planted as he moves to your jaw, working his way back to your neck, sucking lightly. “You smell so damn good,” he groans hungrily, making you pulse below. “So perfect.” Your hands fall slowly down his chest, working lower and lower.

He breathes your name against your skin as your fingers graze over the top of his jeans; his cock, rock-hard underneath, making him suck in a breath. “Rafe,” you pant against his lips as your fingers continue to outline his length, working down his thigh.

His hands skim higher, pinching your lace thong between his fingers. “I’m begging you,” he pleads pathetically.

“Okay.”

“Okay? Seriously?”

Rafe grabs the door handle fast, pressing it open before you can change your mind. A strong breeze whips through the car as the two of you step out. Rafe shuts the door, quickly backing you into the vehicle as his hands work around your neck, kissing you deeper. His hips drive into yours, tongue slipping through your lips. You moan his name softly, making his hold on you even tighter.

His hands fall to your hips, gripping tightly, turning you away. Your hands rest against the driver’s side window as he works up your thighs, slipping under your skirt. You look over your shoulder, matching his gaze as he seizes your hips. You can feel his cock through his jeans, stiff against your ass. Rolling slowly, you work yourself against him, listening to his muttered praise. His fingers dig deeper, a bruising hold on your body that’ll surely leave marks.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans. Rafe reaches under your skirt, looping his long fingers around the string of your panties, pulling them over your ass. Rafe quickly grabs them from the ground, tucking them in his pocket for later. You feel the chill of your wetness against the open air, the warmth of his hand following close behind, gliding up your inner thigh, drifting closer and closer. Rafe’s thick fingers sweep up your wet pussy. “Shit…” He moans, huskily quickly stuffing them in his mouth, sucking you off. Rafe reaches forward and grabs your neck, pulling you back to his lips. He kisses you, causing chills to fall over your body and nerves buzzing from head to toe as you taste yourself on his lips. “Get in the back.”

Rafe grabs the door and pulls it open, letting you sink inside. He follows closely behind, snatching you and pulling you back onto his lap. You pinch the bottom of your dress, but he stops you. “You said I could-” He huffs. “We had a deal.” You give him a nod, and he smiles boyishly, pinching the little zipper between your tits, tugging it open achingly slow; Rafe hanging onto every moment. His mouth falls agape, eyes wide as he drinks you in. ”Goddamn,“ he groans as he tosses his head back, a broad smile painted on his lips.

You draw your mouth to his neck, kissing him roughly. He lets out a sinful chuckle, taking a grip on your ass, spanking you, circling your bare skin. “Mmm… Let me look at you, baby,” he says. Rafe bites his kiss-bitten lip, studying you carefully as his fingers trace up your spine slowly. He lands on the clasp of your bra, unfastening it. The fabric slips off your shoulders and onto his lap. His eyes follow the lace, journeying up your body again, landing on yours. He takes your nipple in his mouth, swirling and biting, before moving to the other side.

BEEP.

Your stomach drops. The gravity of the situation is setting in as you see a text notification from his wife. You pull away, grabbing your bra off his lap. “Hey. No – N-No. Stop. Please. Just – Just c’mon. I need this. Please. I need you-”

“Who said I was gonna stop?” You whisper as you toss your bra to the floor.

You lean over, grabbing his phone, declining his wife before flicking your finger a couple of times, angling it straight at the two of you, pressing record. “Did you just… Are we? Oh my god,” he babbles as you help him out of his polo. You let out an airy laugh, resting your hand against his chiseled chest, using the other to trace his signature gold chain.

“Am I recording this? Yeah. Yeah, I am,” you hum. Rafe’s heart bangs under your palm, the man unable to catch his breath. “Just the tip.”

“Just the tip,” he stammers as he races for his belt, quickly fighting with the button and zipper. Rafe strips down to his boxers, letting you do the rest. You tease him, taking your time, revealing his length inch by inch. His dick springs free, slapping against his toned stomach; his fat tip messy with precum. Your gaze flicks to his as you lower your mouth to his cock. Rafe’s lips part, eyes hooded. His thick breathing and moans fill the car. “Shit,” he hisses as you pull away, looking down at you with a mix of emotions. “55… 55k?”

You hover over his tip, running a line of spit onto the head of his cock. His muscles tighten, fist slamming down on the leather seat.

“60,” you tease.

“Just – just take it. The black one. Fuck the black card in my wallet. I don’t care. Anything you need… Anything you want… Anything you think about, it’s fucking yours.”

“I’m not taking your money,” you whisper, blowing lightly on his cock before swirling your tongue around his head, collecting his precum.

“Oh fuck,” he moans. Rafe’s mouth falls open, his long, thick dick cumming in ropes of white almost instantly. His apologies get caught in his throat as you lick a line up his stiff shaft, cleaning the mess. Rafe reaches for air as he watches you suck him off some more, using what remains to stroke his cock as you tap his tip against your tongue. He looks over at the phone in a fucked-out daze, smiling in satisfaction before throwing his head back. “Yeah… Yeah you are. You’re taking my goddamn money.”

He grabs you, pulling you into his arms, lips crashing into yours. Rafe wraps his strong arms around your body, pulling you nearer, his bare chest pressed against yours. Your heart races a little faster as your adrenaline starts to kick it. ”The tip?“ He asks hopefully between kisses, getting greedy, hoping you’ll cave and give him more.

“Only the tip,” you respire as you thrust your hand between the two of you, taking hold of his cock.

“I’ll take it,” Rafe whispers as his head meets your cunt. He lets out a deep groan, thundering in his chest. His eyes meet yours again. “This is for me?” He asks shakily. “Please say it’s for”

“You, Rafe. It’s all for you.”

He takes control, gripping his cock in his fist, running his fat mushroom tip through your slick folds, swirling softly on your clit. Rafe shudders in overstimulation but there’s no fuckin’ way he’ll stop for anything. He slows down slightly, a smile spreading on his lips as he glides lower.

“Mmm… Right there,” you whisper against his mouth as his head toys with your entrance. His lips press against yours as you widen your thighs, dropping down on his tip, feeling a big stretch.

“Fuck me,” he pants.

“Feels so good, Rafe,” you whimper.

“So damn good. Holy shi-” You sink lower and lower unable to stop yourself. Rafe lets out a long, drawn-out moan against your lips. “Oh… Oh fuck,” he stammers as he clutches your hips when you’re fully sat, pulling back to look at you in awe. He pushes you down a little more, making your eyes roll back in your skull, filled to the brim with him. The sight of your pleasure is almost too much to take.

The two of you watch as you rise up, Rafe’s thick cock glistening with your essence. You hook one hand behind his neck, leaning back slightly, gripping the leather seat. You start to ride him, grinding and bouncing on his big cock as his large hands hold onto your tits. Rafe grabs your hips and slap your ass; just playing with your body, worshiping your curves like he’s always wanted.

“I’m not gonna last – just keep going. Please-” He begs.

“Just keep cumming for me…” You moan as you start to roll your body, working him in and out of your soaked pussy, 60 thousand dollars richer.

Please follow and turn on notifications for @curtainbangs-updates for fic drops

my masterlist 🔮

my tag list 🎀

tags ⭐️ @loserboysandlithium @rafesthroatbaby @gri959 @akobx @rafesgiirl @hyperfixationgirl @daryldixon83 @savayvayblr-blog @oxpogues4lifexo @sleepiibunniiii

#rafeyscurtainbangs library 📚#rafe cameron #outer banks #rafe #obx #rafe cameron smut #rafe smut #rafe x fem!reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #perv!rafe #older rafe cameron

912 notes · View notes

toxicanonymity · 1 year ago

Text

needs

3.3k, joel miller x virgin f!reader

joel master list

Summary: Joel wants to find a bed before you go all the way, but neither of you can wait that long.

A/N: Follows ✨ Fires (1.6, prequel), Aches (900), and Thoughts (1.6), but can read alone.

WARNINGS: I8+, big girthy age gap (20/50s), still only one sleeping bag, pining, c*ck hunger, fingering, grinding, masturbation, oral m receiving, cum eating, unsafe P in V, reluctantly pulling out, loss of virginity, pet names, praise, POV alternates, NO Y/N.

“God have mercy,” he mutters to himself.

He's gonna give it to ya good one day, but not yet. Not in a sleeping bag on the forest floor. Not yet. Not yet. Not yet, he tells himself . . . Your first time shouldn’t be like this. Shouldn’t be here. But god damn . . .

-------

It’s all over your face. He’s never seen anything like it, the way you crave his cock. You shamelessly stare at his pants. His whole body, really. You were bad enough before you touched it, and it’s only gotten worse. You can’t focus, you can’t listen. It’s dangerous. He should put a stop to this, take it away cold turkey. Sleep back-to-back. But you both have needs, and he's not gonna do that.

Joel feels like he might as well be a virgin himself, it's been so long for him. Frankly, he’s dying to put it in you just as much as you long to have it. He’s been trying to wait until Jackson so he can do it somewhere safe, somewhere a little nicer, more comfortable.

He wants to wait and make sure it's nice and special for you, but good lord, you’re makin' it hard. You make the sweetest little sounds when he touches you, and even when he doesn’t, like in your sleep. You ask him things like, “doesn’t sex feel better than hands?” He tells you half-truths, like “not always.” Of course it would with you. Of course it would.

You’re in the forest. With dusk approaching, you're just about to set up camp while there's still light. Joel is taking a leak at the edge of a small clearing, calculating mileage in his head, counting down the days ‘til you should get there. His back could use a real bed, too. He's shaking his dick dry and a twig snaps behind him. His head whips around and he reaches for his gun.

It’s you. God damnit, he could’ve killed you.

“Can I see it?” you ask.

“What the hell are ya doin’ over here?”

“I just wanna see it.” You look down toward his jeans. “Can I?”

It’s fair that you’re curious, he knows that. You mentioned it the night before with your hand wrapped around it, I wanna see it, really see it, I bet it’s good looking. You’ve only felt it at night and caught glimpses in the moonlight. At the time, he mindlessly reassured you, you’ll see it, baby, you'll see my cock, and he should’ve known you’d spring this on him.

“Not now,” he mutters, trying to calm his heart rate. “Can ya gimme a second, honey?”

“Okay.” He can hear the sadness, practically see the disappointment on your face. God damnit. He tucks himself away and zips up. You're only about eight feet away. “Now?”

“No. Ain’t nothin’ to see right now.” You probably don’t realize what a big difference it can make.

“What do you mean”

“Just trust me, it’s not how you wanna see it.”

“Why?"

“Cause it ain’t as. . .”

“Ain’t as what?”

“Nothin’, baby. Just not the right time.”

“Better if we’re close together, right?” You step closer.

He closes his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose, and takes a deep breath. “This ain’t the time or the place, honey.”

When he looks at you again, your face has fallen, and you mumble, “K.”

He puts a big, comforting hand on your shoulder and walks you back to where y'all are setting up camp. “When we find a bed, I’ll show ya. . .”

"And when we find a bed," you repeat. Don't say it, don't say it, he prays to God you don't say it. "We can do it, right?" He doesn't answer. "You can put your cock inside me, right?"

Fuck, you're gonna drive this old man crazy. At least one of you needs your wits about you if you'll ever make it to Jackson. "We'll see," he sighs.

After a moment of silence, your voice trembles as you ask, "We'll see? Why not yes?"

"Cause we ain't gonna make it there at this rate," he complains, then sighs with instant regret. "I'm sorry, honey. But you gotta try to knock it off with this stuff."

You swallow and your eyes glimmer. "Sorry," you whisper.

He turns away to adjust himself, then sits down on the ground, leaning back against a log and extends an arm for you. "S'okay, c'mere."

You sit on the ground next to him. He squeezes your shoulder and changes the topic to twenty questions.

——

He’s nicer at night. He’s nice in the day, too, mostly. Once in a while, you can tell you’re annoying him, and you feel bad. If only he knew how many times you thought about it and didn't say something, he’d appreciate your efforts. It’s practically all you think about. It’s even worse now that you feel it in your hand every night, but the last thing you want is for that to stop.

You had been thinking about it all day when you finally asked what you thought was an easy request – if you could just see it, just a glimpse while he already had it out anyway.

Even if you don’t get to see it, at least it’s easy enough to recall what it feels like. Smooth, warm, and stiff. Soft veins, tiny wrinkles. A leaking slit.

—--

“Can I taste it?” you ask one night with your little fist wrapped around his shaft.

He groans quietly. “Yeah, you wanna taste it?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, your hand sticky with the lube of your own slick, a bead of precum under your thumb. You smear the precum and let go of his hard cock, making it slap against his stomach. You take your thumb into your mouth and hum, “Mmm,” at the salty taste.

“Whatcha think,” he whispers breathily.

“Can I have your cock in my mouth?”

“Oh, baby, ‘course ya can.” The zipper of the sleeping bag jingles, then you hear the satisfying zzz as it unzips. He folds it down and you get up on your knees. You bend at the hip and don't waste a second. You wrap your thumb and forefinger around the base, trying and failing to make your digits touch.

Then, your lips wrap around the head. He inhales sharply through his teeth.

“Did I hurt you?” you ask.

“God no, honey. Go ‘head, taste it all ya want.”

You curiously tongue the slit and suck for more.

“Oh god damn,” he breathes.

You lick around it under the crown and you’re salivating.

He wraps his hand around yours and moves it up and down, then leaves you be. “Use your spit, honey.” You let it dribble out of your mouth and onto his tip and catch it in your fist. You kitten lick the shaft, tasting your own tang, and letting your saliva fall out of your mouth as it accumulates, occasionally sliding the open ring of your finger and thumb up and down but mostly forgetting because you’re so focused on it in your mouth.

“Ya like that, sweetie? ya like how we taste?” You take a couple inches into your mouth then suck a little more of it in. It twitches against your tongue. The biggest vein throbs.

“Alright, baby,” he pants and takes it from you. He urgently pulls up his own shirt, slides his hand a few times, then comes with a groan, his voice and pulsing manhood making you ache with need, even though he already made you come. You stay there on your knees. In the dim moonlight, you watch his tummy rise and fall with the shiny trail leading to, and pooling in, his navel.

“Can I taste that, too?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he nods.

You dip your tongue in the trail below his navel. It’s thicker, headier, saltier than the precum. It’s not every day you get to taste something new. It’s not often at all. It's delicious.

“Like it,” you whisper.

“Yeah? take all ya want.”

You lick and seal your lips as you suck it up. You pause to pluck a hair from your teeth, then continue to his navel. You dip your tongue in and his stomach flexes abruptly. You take your mouth off and pause. “Sorry,” you whisper.

“Nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout.”

You tongue his navel, then suck, and he inhales a chest full of air as you do it, his stomach rising into your lips. You lick up every drop.

“Good girl,” he sighs and cups your cheek. “Such a good girl," he sighs.

—

All day you think about it in your mouth, in your hand, resting hard against your back, between your thighs. You imagine it all over your body. Doesn’t matter if he’s pressing it up against your hip or resting it in the crook of your elbow, God, you just want to feel it somewhere. You try not to think about it inside you too much because that makes you want it so bad, you could cry. Like really cry.

It’s not a want. It's a need. You see it happening everywhere you look. You see a tree, and you imagine him sitting on the forest floor against it, holding his cock at attention, ready for you to sit on it. You see another tree and he’s pinning you up against it with your legs wrapped around him, jeans pulled down under his ass as he rails you. You see a patch of moss and cluster of ferns that would be a nice pillow with him on top of you.

You think about it, and you dream about it, too. You can’t help that. He starts wearing jeans to sleep, and you can’t feel the shape of him quite as well against you, but it doesn’t matter. The fact that it’s there and it’s hard is enough to drive you mad. Even after he gets you off, it's bound to come back at some point in the night. Worst case scenario, you lose sleep over it. Best case, it works its way into your dreams.

----

One night, you're moaning in your sleep again, and Joel can hardly take it. His cock is painfully stiff and the strain against his jeans makes him ache. His hips press into you on their own; he can't stop them. All he can do is take off his jeans in hopes that being free of the rigid confines will lend some relief. He was wearing them as an extra layer between the two of you for this exact scenario, but he can no longer bear it.

On one hand, he’s taking precautions, like keeping his jeans on. But on the other hand, in the heat of the moment, when he’s touching you, he’s taking measures to prepare you, and to see how ready you are. Lately, he scissors his fingers, inserts three to see how you take it. “Good girl, that’s real good, honey.” He curls them inside you, “Ohhh, baby, you’re takin’ this real good.”

God, he wants a bed for this. You deserve a fuckin' mattress at the very least. He’s gotta wait. And yet now he finds himself taking off his jeans. He carefully removes them without waking you up. He lies there with his fist around his cock for a minute, still in his boxers, doing nothing but softly squeezing, as if that’ll make it go away. Then he resigns himself to the magnetism of your body. He curves his form around yours again and silently sighs as the hardness in his boxers rests against you and he wraps you in a hug. He manages not to thrust against your ass, but in no time, you're pushing yourself back against him. "Joel," you mumble in your sleep.

"God have mercy," he mutters to himself.

He's gonna give it to ya good one day, but not yet. Not in a sleeping bag on the forest floor. Not yet. . . not yet. . . not yet, he tells himself, taking deep calming breaths. Your first time shouldn’t be like this. Shouldn’t be here. But god damn he wants to take that tight little hole.

"Joel,” you whine and push back on him again. He can't stand it. He really can't. He has to wake you up.

He whispers, "Whatcha dreamin 'bout, sweetie?" then feels your breathing change.

When you blink awake, your hips are slowly moving, pushing your ass back into Joel's hard cock until you stop yourself.

"Sorry," you mumble. "Did I wake you up?" The sweet sound of your voice isn’t helping.

"Don't be sorry, baby," he murmurs into your hair.

"I dunno how to stop it," you whisper. "I'm sorry."

"Nothin' to be sorry 'bout, baby doll." He hugs you tight. “Don’t be embarrassed.” His cock swells harder against you. He whispers in your ear, "They want each other real bad, that's all."

"I know."

"Have a good dream?"

You sigh. “Yeah.”

“‘bout what?”

“I dunno if you wanna hear it,” you tell him. Fair enough, he's told you to knock it off, after all.

“Sure I do, honey. Was it you and me?”

“Yeah,” you wedge your hand between your legs.

"You want a hand?"

“Yeah.”

“What’d ya dream?” he asks as he reaches into your panties. "God damn," he whispers. You're soaked, swollen, and your clit is throbbing against his hand. "Poor thing." He thrusts his hardness against your ass. "No wonder you're tryin' to get at this, huh?"

You're quiet.

"No wonder ya can't stop thinkin' ‘bout it." He thrusts against you again and moans softly. "What'd ya dream, baby?"

“It was. . .” you can hardly form words thinking about it. It was so vivid, so real. “We were right here, like this.”

“Yeah?” He uses your ample moisture to lightly rub your clit.

He begins to make peace with himself that this might happen before he wants. He hooks his fingers into your panties. “Let’s take these off for a lil bit, hmm? Let her breathe.”

“Okay.” You bend your knees as he pulls your soaked panties down.

—-

"We were right here like this, in the dream?" He repeats.

“You took it out of your pants,” you whisper. He moans softly, takes his hand away, and jostles behind you. Then you feel his naked cock against your skin. Your breath hitches and you whimper at the contact. He returns his hand between your legs and lazily circles your clit, pressing his naked dick against you.

"Took it out like this?" He asks soft and deep.

"Yeah,"

He thrusts against you and whispers in your ear, "Then what?"

"You put it between my legs."

He inhales sharply then wedges his cock between your thighs, shuddering as he slides it forward along your dripping seam and the head meets his fingers on your clit.

You tilt your hips and he whispers, "Oh, baby. Like this?"

"No, you put it inside," you whisper.

Joel's breath hitches and he twitches against your heat. You moan. He slides slowly through your folds to your clit and back. He tries to slow down and think it over, but there are no thoughts, just his stiff, aching cock and your tight little pussy begging for it.

——

“Will you do that,” you ask, looking over your shoulder but not enough to meet his eyes.

Joel takes a deep breath. “You think I should? Don’t wanna wait for a bed?” He thrusts in small pulses. “Just a few days, baby.”

“They wanna be together real bad,” you whisper. “how they’re meant to be," you remind him.

Joel groans at your words. “I know, baby doll.” He takes a deep breath. “How’d it feel in your dream?”

“Full, really full,” you tell him, then sigh. “Felt so big.’

“Ohh, fuck,” Joel breathes into your hair and slides his cock against you, wet and stiff.

“It was like I was hugging you with my, um,” you say, then swallow and tilt your hips. "Hugging it."

“God damn,” he sighs. He pulls his cock back, and as he slides it forward again, it catches at your entrance. You spread your thighs ever so slightly. “You sure ‘bout this,” he confirms, and uses the hand between your legs to nestle his tip just inside. You gasp.

“Yeah,” you nod. “Yes, please. Joel, please,” you whine. You push back on him with a small grunt, stretching yourself open on his tip.

“Oh god, baby,” he sighs, then he holds you still and slowly pushes himself inside with a quiet groan muffled by your hair. “Fuck, you’re–ohh, you’re tight.” You gasp as his girth parts your walls and your body makes room for him. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod urgently, and he twitches inside you.

You shiver with pleasure as he pushes further and sighs, “Oh, baby.”

“Joel,” you whine, “its so big”

“Too big?”

“No,” you reassure him. “I want it.”

He pushes the rest of himself in until his pelvis is flush. He breathes heavily and mutters, “fuck.”

You moan and push back on him. “s’perfect,” you whine.

“you like havin’ me in here?”

“I love it,” you say.

“As much as the dream?”

“More than the dream.”

“What happened next?” he asks

“Then you it moved like you do in my hand.”

“Yeah,” he begins to rock his hips, his thick cock dragging inside you. “Like this?”

“nnngghh–yeah,” you nod then gasp as you're filled by his length again. “ohhh,” you moan. "And then you came inside—”

He groans, then pants as he’s moving inside you, “Ohh fuck, sweetie I can’t—ohh, I can’t do that, uggghh–god damn.”

“Felt so good, like a massage”

“Ohh, baby, please don’t–”

“And warm”

“Fuck,” he breathes and covers your mouth with his free hand, bicep flexing under your neck as he does it. No way he’s gonna last with you talking like that.

He begins to slowly move again and you whimper. You’re right, it is like you’re hugging him. You’re so tight and wet for him, taking his cock so good.

"Good girl," he whispers, burying his length in you every second or so, only pulling back halfway each time.

"Such a good girl, wantin' my cock so bad." He moans. "Waitin' all this time—uggh." You push your hips back to meet his thrusts. "That's my girl, takin' me so good," his next thrust is harder and you moan. "Yeah, just like that," he breathes. His hand teases your clit as he fucks you. You whimper and he repeats, "just like that," his voice shakier, his breath heavier on your ear, “yeah.”

You moan into his hand, and his fingers circle your clit. “C’mon, baby,” he pants. “Gonna come on my cock?” You nod and hum your agreement. “Better do it now, then, you can do it.”

You let go and your clit pulses madly, your walls clench down on him. It feels so good, your eyes well up in tears.

“Ohh, baby,” he sighs, and suddenly pulls out. He replaces his cock with two fingers that your cunt begins to hug. “Such a good girl, squeezin’ my fingers.”

His aching arousal presses against your ass, and he humps against you as he fingers you. “Ohh, yea--ohhhh.” His cock begins to pulse, spreading a silky warmth across your skin. He moans and sighs as you finish coming on his fingers and his balls empty.

—-

He uses a shirt of his to clean you up. As his breathing calms down, he hears you sniffling. “Hey, hey, you okay, sweetie?”

You’re fine, more than fine, but you can’t talk.

“Shit,” he mutters to himself when you don’t answer. He peeks over your side, gently stroking your arm. “Hey, c’mere, talk to me, sweetie.” You turn around and face him. “You okay, honey?”

You nod and smile at him with watery eyes.

His brows knit as he finishes catching his breath. He kisses you on the forehead and wraps you in a hug. You sniffle again and he speaks into your hair. “I know that was a big deal for you, baby.” He pulls his head back and tilts your chin up. “It was big for me too, okay?” You nod. He reads your eyes, then presses his lips into yours. He reads your face again, then repeats the kiss and you kiss him back. He kisses you on the forehead and holds you, stroking your head. You fall asleep holding each other face-to-face.

-----

Thank you so much for reading and engaging! Your comments and reblogs go a long way in motivation so if you liked it plz consider saying something 🫶. There's a virgin section on my joel master list right above the one shots. Left in Lincoln is a pretty similar Joel, in terms of how he is with you sexually. For more Joel POV, the most recent raider, Night Air, has a lot.

-----

for fic notifications, please follow @toxicfics, subscribe to notifications, and make sure your tumblr app settings allow push notifications. ⚠️ some of my fics are pretty dark.

-----

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #toxicanonymity ☠️#joel miller x innocent reader #joel miller x virgin reader #pedro pascal characters #joel miller fanfic #tw virginity loss #Finally F*cking Friday

6K notes · View notes

redstarwriting · 2 years ago

Text

pda/general affection hcs | i.

ft. hobie brown & miles morales

request?: yes

request: “Hiiii!!! I am absolutely IN LOVE with ur the clash series and I can't wait to see how it progresses!!! Could u do some pda/general affection hcs for the spider verse characters? I would love to see Miles and Hobie hcs but it's rlly up to whatever characters u would wanna write for. Endless thanks!!”

warnings: language, cuteness, mentions of dying, mentions of injuries, mentions of throwing up, mentions of being overwhelmed

a/n: i love hcs lol this was actually how i first starting writing and it’s so fun bc i can be my sarcastic self without having to change any of it teehee, thank you for requesting anon! thinking of doing this for other characters to, what does everyone think?

i’ve made a pt ii. to this with gwen and pavitr if you wanna check it out!

───────────────────────────────────

hobie brown | spider-punk

pda

- he’s kind of a middle ground - not crazy about it - not against it at all - he just - hold onto your hats for this one - ✨he does what he wants✨ - ofc it also depends who’s company you’re in - if y’all are with Miles, Gwen, and Pavitr, he’s super comfortable and a part - of his body will always be touching yours - but it’s not like he’s goin out of his way to be like LOOK AT MY PARTNER - HOWEVER - if he’s ANYWHERE where there are authority figures? - *cough* miguel *cough* - he will just start to make out with you - LMAO - “Hobie, can you stop kissing your partner and listen to me.” “No.” “You’re aware of how rude you’re being?” “Good.” - if you don’t like it ofc he won’t but he WILL be touchier with you in those moments - because it pisses people off - and he loves that - also if he felt threatened? - he’d probably get a little touchier than usual - but honestly he almost never feels threatened so who knows if you’d ever experience that - and if he did ever feel threatened he would feel better knowing that you always wear one of his studded bracelets - ppl will ask where you got it and you’ll be all - “Oh! My boyfriend Hobie!” - he loves seeing the hope drain out of anyone’s eyes when he appears behind you after that statement, he finds it so amusing every time - he’s only obsessed with a few things - like there is something he will ALWAYS do - he is OBSESSED and i mean OBSESSSSSEEDDD with having his hand in your back pocket - at all times - only if it isn’t around your shoulders (another obsession of his) - like y’all are going to one of his shows? - you enter with his hand in your back pocket - after gets offstage? - hand in back pocket - walking home? - hand in back pocket - sometimes y’all will walk instead of him picking you up and webbing back home JUST BECAUSE he wants to put his hand in your back pocket - he also LOVES using you as an armrest - if you’re short, he places his arm on your head like an armrest - if you’re average height, he’s still using your head as an armrest - if you’re tall or as tall as him he will climb a wall to use your head as an armrest - it gets you flustered and he thinks it’s adorable! - and eye contact? - he will keep his eyes trained on you at all times - he’s always looking at you - or else he’s looking for you - only looks away SOMETIMES when he’s talking to other people - “Hobie, I’m over here.” “Yeah, I know.” “So stop looking at them, I’m the one talking to you.” “Yeah, but you ain’t the fittest person in the room so piss off, eh?” - that being said - there is something he just doesn’t do in public - he doesn’t hold hands - i do feel like he would hold pinkies with you upon request - but holding hands just isn’t his thing - in public👀

general affection

- THIS MAN HAS THE WORLD FOOLED - he acts all nonchalant about it - acts like he only does pda to go against societal rules - which he does BUT ALSO - he is so touchy - he isn’t clingy by any regard - but he LOVES being affectionate - just like the smallest things - every morning when y’all wake up in the same bed together and he wakes up before you (which is a lot bc he doesn’t sleep well) he will place a feather-light kiss somewhere on your face so he doesn’t wake you up - but like clockwork - he will do it - and after he will just lay there and hold you for a bit - even when during the night the two of you separate from each other he will always reach out for you during those times - and he will maneuver you back into his arms so he can just lay there with you for a bit - every time you ask him why he just tells you you make him a “bloody softie” - which yeah you do - but also - he gets scared when he comes home, you won’t be there - with his job that isn’t really a job and all, he gets so nervous that you’ll just be fed up with it and leave - or worse, you’ll be used as bait for him - bait which he would immediately take, of course - he even does it because he thinks about the possibility of him not coming home one day - and he wants you to feel like you were loved if that happens - he also just loves the little smile that comes to your face every morning - when you realize he’s done it again - and that is just ONE THING - he hates getting injured, but would lie if he said he hated getting patched up by you - when you’re cleaning his wounds with alcohol the two of you hold hands - he’ll squeeze when it stings and you’ll squeeze when you feel bad - so you’re kinda squeezing his hand the whole time - but you know how i said he doesn’t hold hands in public? - at home it’s a different story - watching tv? - hands are held - looking at the stars from the top of a building? - hands are held - throwing up after drinking too much? - hands are held - so is hair - and he rubs your back - you rub his - he adores back scratches (not when he’s throwing up just in general LMAO) - one thing he didn’t realize he loved so much until it happened was when he was sitting and playing his guitar on y’alls bed - just mindlessly finger picking some melodies - and you came up and sat behind him and put your head on his shoulder and wrapped your arms around his waist and kissed his cheek and just - stayed there - it made him melt - he loves it so much - he especially loves it when you hum along - even if you can’t hold a tune - it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard he doesn’t care - you can expect him to be all over you the minute he gets back from being Spider-Punk - especially when he has a bad day - i could probably give more examples but this is already kinda long lmao oops

overall

- he LOVES affection - public and private - if he loves you, he’s gonna show it - he’s gonna scream it, literally and figuratively - everyone will know y’all are together - which he loves - but that’s not why he does it - he just loves you - and doesn’t care what other ppl think 🤭

miles morales | spider-man

pda

- omg this lil man is so awkward - i’m far older than him and he makes me think of how nervous and awkward i was at his age when it came to any type of romance - so i can see him being SO unintentionally awkward in public - he tries so hard to be cool - but omg - the tiniest thing will go wrong and he’ll go from 😏 to 😟 - everything is the end of the world until you assure him it isn’t - like the time he saw you outside around Brooklyn Visions Academy and thought it’d be so cute to go up behind you and cover your eyes and say “guess who :)” - except it wasn’t you - you were across the street and watched it all go down - he literally made eye contact with you the minute he tried to be cute - the HORROR on his face - he was immediately apologizing to the random person he just did that to - in the moment you were so confused - but when you and him were in his dorm and he was flailing his arms around -and yelling in lowercase explaining it? - oh my god - hilarious - he was all pouty when you started laughing so you had to attack his face with little kisses to make him cheer up - one would have done the trick but he was grateful for all of the ones you gave him regardless - or the time he went to wrap his arm around your waist during lunch because he wanted to be all cute in school and you turned around as soon as he put his arm out and tried to walk and his sturdiness and strength made you literally drop your lunch tray and the food went everywhere - and there you were again in his dorm as he was flailing his arms around and yelling in lowercase apologizing because you just got new shoes and he ruined it and— - shut him up with a kiss, would you? - a display of public affection that always happens though is you’re always in his jacket - to the point where he has two of the same jacket now so you guys can be twinning :,) - “Look, babe! Same jacket!” “Oh my god wait! We’re gonna be so cute!” “I know, right? Pretty smart and cute of me, huh?” “Very smart and cute of you, Miles.” - he also loves to have his hand on top of yours whenever he can - he’ll do it in class - if y’all go out to eat - if he’s sketching and you’re next to him - and holding hands in public is a favorite of his - it’s very tiny things that he does because every time he tries something big something goes wrong - like opening a door for you and motioning you to go in before him - and always being ready to steady you if you would trip (which happens more than he thought it would) - and always fixing your necklace that he bought you for your birthday (with the help of Rio) when the little clasp comes down in the front - he’s constantly staring at you with a dopey grin on his face - literally will get called out in class because he’s just 👁👄👁 - and then he gets all flustered - but the smile you get on your face letting him know you like him that much will relax him - will go from “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to draw attention to you!” to “yeah, you like that? imma do it more then.” - he’ll also pretend to drum on you with his pencils when you’re near him - especially if he has his headphones in - he likes to play this game where you guess which one of his songs he’s jamming out to - sometimes he says you got it right when you get it wrong just to see you get excited - and he doesn’t necessarily mean for this to be a public display of affection, - but his constant drawing of you is frequently watched by other classmates - the only person who has successfully seen his bold moves of affection is Ganke, and he pretends to gag every time lol

general affection

- he’s such an affectionate boy 🥹 - like i said, Ganke is the only one who successfully sees his physical affection plots work - he’s much smoother when people aren’t around - and yes, he has shown you the shoulder touch - you did it to him once and he short-circuited - i’m so serious he accidentally shocked you - but then he hugged and kissed you for like 40 minutes afterward cause he felt bad - so it wasn’t too bad of an experience - but when it comes to physical affection in private, he’s worlds better at it - any time he plays video games, whether that be with you or Ganke, he has his leg over top of yours - He loves watching movies with you where you lay your head on his lap and he just mindlessly draws little shapes on your shoulder - he also loves having you laying on top of him while y’all cuddle - it makes him feel safe (and he gets to steal soooo many kisses from you) - you’re kinda like his very own weighted blanket but not even because his spider strength makes you feel like a feather - but it’s also an easy way for him to keep a hold of you and feel like he’s protecting you - he also loves to take you web swinging - holding you super close and taking you to a tall building away from anyone who can see y’all - he loves that - sometimes he’ll have like a whole picnic type date set up and y’all will just have a cute lil date on the top of the one world trade center - he also loves having you over to his place - his parents love you - and you love them - they make him keep his door cracked when y’all are in there together but it’s mainly because they love to peek in and see their son so in love - Jefferson took like 74 pictures the first time he saw y’all napping together - And Rio took like 52 pictures when she caught the two of you on the roof of the building and he was playing you a playlist he made for you - he does that a lot but that was the first time Rio saw it - she was ecstatic lol - he occasionally will just poke you for no reason - and by occasionally i mean he does it constantly - “Miles? Why did you do that?” “Do what?” “I literally saw you poke me.” “No, I didn’t” “…” “…” “I did, you’re just so cute, I don’t know.” - he also loves drawing on your hand - the back of your hand has constant Miles doodles - sometimes it’s stuff like the two of your initals in a heart - sometimes it’s Spider-Man - sometimes it’s just whatever was on his mind - but you love your constant Miles hand drawings - and he feels like it’s some sort of way for other people to know you’re his - but when he does it it’s so cute - cause he’s so gentle - and no one is watching - but you’re sitting there and just smiling as he creates a work of art on your hand and the playlist he made full of songs that remind him of how you made him feel the first time he saw you is softly playing in the background - he calls them temporary tattoos and one day you’re going to actually get one of the doodles tattooed on you somewhere - he’ll probably have a heart attack from how much he loves it but hey that’s fine he’ll recover - speaking of he loves to draw with you - he doesn’t care about your skill level, he just loves to be creative with you - he also is very much all about making sure you’re eating - getting enough sleep - prioritizing yourself above everything else - and if anything is ever bothering you - he is There - he will always be there and it’s very comforting - he just wants you to be happy all the time and does his best to do so - and you feel the same - so any time the responsibility of Spider-Man is too much for him - or when his parents get on him because he’s hiding half of who he is - you’re there for him - often times after he comes home from a long day of Spider-Manning he’s the one who is being held, but you’re fine with that - cause he can be vulnerable with you and he needs it

overall

- Miles is getting the hang of being in a relationship - he really does love pda but is so bad at it lmao - when he gets better beware - you will be a melting mess in public all the time - but for right now it’s just behind the scenes where he’s able to show how he really feels - give him all the hugs he needs ‘em

#hobie brown hcs #hobie brown headcanons #hobie headcanons #hobie brown x reader #miles morales hcs #miles morales headcanons #miles morales x reader #miles x reader #spiderpunk x reader #spiderman x reader #spiderverse headcanon #spiderverse x reader #across the spiderverse #spiderverse #hobie brown #miles morales

6K notes · View notes

boolger · 4 months ago

Text

A lapdog at a farm - chapter 1

AO3 link. next chapter -> Call of duty. Explicit, 18+, minors do not interact. read the tags. wc: 4,147

Maybe support me on kofi?🥺👉👈

Farmer!John Price x Hybrid!Reader, hybrid! Kyle Gaz Garrick x hybrid! Johnny Soap MacTavish x hybrid! Simon Ghost, John Price x Nikolai.

Summary: When Price was young and left his childhood home, a farm in the middle of nowhere in England, he didn’t enter the military. Instead he moved to London, got a degree and a good career, earning good money. He got you, a human dog hybrid as a pet, after feeling lonely - and you lived your best life for years, spoiled and pampered, Price’s lapdog who got praised at every party. Loved and fucked every night. That was until Price decided to return to his roots and go back to farming - dragging you along to the middle of nowhere, away from all the wonders of the big city. Expecting you to accept this sudden change in lifestyle and pretend to be a farm dog. Bad luck however, because you fucking hated it, and became more and more unruly. In hopes of getting you to calm down and to keep his live-stock and farm safe, Price then got three working dog hybrids - and all at once, your life was even worse than before.

tags: Rape/non-con elements, dub-con, dog!hybrid!people being kept as pets, alternative universe - farm, dark, farmer!John Price, working-dogs, punishments, mating cycles/rut/heat (no omegaverse), the dove isn't dead but its dying, reader is a brat, knotting, animal tails and ears, mentions of trauma, violence, angst, hurt/comfort, collars, rough sex, breeding kink, biting, threesome, foursome, everyone is fucking your honor, enemies to lovers, chubby reader, reader has a pussy

author's note: Hi sinners <33 Just a heads up; the reader is gonna be a spoiled brat. If you want a smart and sweet reader who isn’t mean at times, well. Bad news. This ain’t it.🥰The reader is she / her and has a pussy and is chubby. I tried my best to keep the descriptions somewhat vague otherwise. Reader is a cocker spaniel hybrid. I will tell the others along the way. In this universe, hybrids have ears, tail, claws beneath nails and canine fangs. There will be heats and ruts but there is no omegaverse. They will have personality traits of their dog breed and so on. Now. I know there aren’t wild wolves in the UK… but in this fic there is, ok? mwah.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

The countryside was peaceful compared to the city; the absence of the bustling streets and constant traffic, created a quietness that was indescribable.

Out here, at the new farm, the noises only came from animals that lived in the stables and barn or the occasional rumble as a tractor turned on. The wind caressed the never ending fields of wheat and the long rows of fruit trees, under which the goats and sheep walked most days.

The stress here wasn’t the same kind as in the city. Sure , there were stressful moments and sometimes Price looked like he needed to sleep for more than just the few hours he got everyday.

But he didn’t have to worry about the morning traffic, waiting in a queue for an overpriced, questionable tea or coffee. There was no need for him to wear a suit, no noisy, overfilled train cars in the underground. No crowded dog or hybrid parks, no meetings or rules to follow - except those John Price decided for himself.

He was happy, so much was clear to you. It had been three months since the move - Johnhad gone back to his roots, buying back the farm that his parents had used to own a little while ago, using some of his endless wealth on renovating the place. There was no step on the stairs that was loose, like it used to when he was a kid - sure they still creaked, but you weren’t afraid they would disappear from beneath you.

It was modernized, but most of the old charm left. Price fit right in; the furniture he had inherited and never believed he would use was suddenly in the living room. His knowledge of the business world was abandoned in the city, for the knowledge of farming that he still had left from his youth. John got a couple of farm hands and workers, who helped him with the big place.

It was like he reclaimed his own self that had been buried beneath the suits, ties and paperwork. Now he didn’t smoke his cigars from stress, but from pleasure, clearly much content.

It was like the farm had truly made John Price happy once more; his smiles more genuine, his true self stepping forth. Returning to his childhood home and taking over the farm had been the best decision Price had made. There was no question about it.

… and you hated every bloody day at the farm.

The early morning hours in bed with him, being disturbed by the farm waking up, the rooster crowing and John leaving the bed, giving you a pat in between your ears, taking all the heat with him. The constant bugs, the muddy stables and the big animals, the helpers who always teased you for not fitting in, the lack of friends you had out here. The foxes’ screams in the night, the wolves howling, and the cows occasionally mooing sounded like creatures stepping out of nightmares.

You were not made for farm life. Literally. Simply not made for it.

Some would argue that you, as a hybrid pet, didn’t have a say in it and sure , legally you didn’t. But you were a lapdog, an elegant pet. Not a farm dog. Created to be cared for and cuddled, you were a purebred cocker spaniel hybrid; you weren’t made to run around on a farm, following John on his duties And doing work.

Sure, you had the instincts to hunt a few things here and there, but it was mostly balls and the occasional bird or squirrel. You weren’t a guard hybrid, not really a working dog.

You had had enough trauma throughout your life - you deserved not to be forced into this! You had grown up being trained to be a lapdog, not a working-dog like you felt like John expected you to act like now.

You wanted John to be happy, you really did - you loved your Master! When he bought you a few years ago, when you were still aggressive and unruly (… more than now at least), you had thought he would tire of you like everybody else had. But with patience, rules, training, praise and punishment and a whole lot of sex later, you were a perfect hybrid pet for the city! People always praised how well you looked, laughing when Price said you were really a little troublemaker. You would follow him throughout the fancy apartment, on your daily walks, sometimes for meetings.

But why the fuck did it have to be a farm? He worked somwwhat the same time that he did before, genuinely seeming to enjoy himself. Forgetting about poor you!

Out here, there were no hybrid daycare that you would go to when he had long days, there were none of your playmates nearby, everything stank of animals and there were no places nearby for you to get your hair and fur styled and pampered! No nail technicians, no fancy cafes, no shops for John to buy you things in! No special made coffee or chef-made meals every other evening, no freshly baked croissants.

You felt like you had tried . You really had.

But after the first week, you had your first breakdown - and as the weeks passed, they didn’t stop. At first, John was sympathetic, like the perfect owner he was.

Cooing at you, kissing your forehead, as he gently scratched your ears. Kissing away any tears, saying it was okay - that you were just overwhelmed, that it would be okay. That you would come to like it out here.

Big fucking joke.

He had tried every trick in the book, in an attempt to please you and made you less upset, but as days turned into weeks and tantrums began to appear, you knew his patience began to disappear.

He followed professional advice and then the advice of the neighbors down the street, Rodolfo and Alejandro (who had caught you running away at one point), tried some of the workers’ advice. He had given you your own room, and it was mostly designed like your own, perfect to the pale green paint on the wall, all your toys and dog beds, your CDs - everything. He had tried hauling you along every day, trying to give you a routine to follow - but after two weeks, he gave up, not having the energy to deal with a tantrum that got worse and worse each day. He went on walks with you, fucked you silly, tried his best — and you didn’t want it.

No, you wanted to go back to your old life. Not this country life that you hadn’t signed up for, with horses that neighed loudly whenever you passed them; they were definitely going to trample you at the first chance, you knew that. You could hear foxes scream in the night, warning you of the dangers. The goats and sheep were so fucking loud and no you didn’t want to go pick fresh apples off the trees - had he seen the size of the spiders crawling on them?

When you in one of your biggest tantrums took off and bolted from the farm in distress, Rodolfo and Alejandro had almost hit you when you emerged from the corn fields onto the road.

You had cried the entire drive home, no matter what the two men had tried saying, especially as Rodolfo called Price in advance — your master was livid . The worst thing was, that it was not that kind of anger where he yelled at you before punishing you - no, this one was almost silent, a sharp grip on your collar as he dragged you along after thanking his neighbours.

He had belted you then, ignoring your crying and screaming, only stopping when you broke, sobbing and going quiet. He had explained it to you then, what could have happened, what dangers you could have ended in - and as you sobbingly apologized and tried to explain, that you wanted to go back to the city, John had sighed .

Said that he had pampered you too much since he got you, which had made you greedy and attention seeking. Which only made you cry more, as you hid your face in his neck, fingers digging into his shirt, ass cheeks burning.

“Spoiled rotten, little birdie,” he mused, though you could hear the softness in him, your tail wagging a little, hoping to get him to be less mad.

“‘M sorry,” you had whined in distress, upset with yourself as well, ears tipping down, “wanna be good but I don’t like it.”

Your rather dull escape attempt resulted in several things. An AirTag on your collar, so that he always knew where you were. A remarkable lack of treats, sex and then… the crate .

You fucking hated the dog crate.

Sure, it hadn’t been nice of you to bite one of his pillows into a simple pulp of fabric, feathers everywhere. Or create chaos in the kitchen… or get drunk on his fancy whiskey (that one had ended worse for you, hangover was a bitch and there wasn’t much sympathy from John). And yes, you might have ripped most of the flowers surrounding the house up, until one of the workers had caught you. Maybe pissing yourself in the middle of the living room while staring him in the eyes and ignoring his warnings had been a little…excessive.

But the dog crate? You hated that thing with a burning passion.

Hated it when he locked you up, ignoring your whimpers and whines, your promises to behave, ignoring your little howls as he left.

Mean. The farm had made him mean. Perhaps you had become a bit unruly too, but it was like he didn’t take your clear suffering seriously.

Mean and happy - unruly and suffering. What a pair you were. One of the workers, KAte Laswell, who was a big helper and often stayed over for dinner, suggested a fucking shock collar. You had growled, only stopped when John sent you a sharp look.

You had even heard him talking over the phone with somebody, saying that he didn’t want to rehome you, but he didn’t know what to do.

That had made you melt a little and you had cried as you had crawled into his bed a couple of hours later, begging him to not abandon you. Fears of never getting to see John again or being loved again by him made you cling onto him as he kissed away your tears, gently fucking you.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

It was a random morning a couple of days later, that you found him still in the kitchen, reading the newspaper, humming to himself while smoking a cigar.

He looked nice like this. Despite how he sometimes muttered about being too old, he wasn’t really that old. Late thirties, and perhaps it was the peace on his face or the sun rays that kissed him, which made him look younger. But still. There was a decade between you, but days like this, you were reminded that it didn’t matter.

“Are you going to stare all day or are you going to join me, Darling?” He asked teasingly, pulling you from your thoughts. You let out a little huff and kissed him good morning, receiving a pat on the ass before you sat down on your own seat. It had been a while since the two of you had eaten together - often he was up at the crack of dawn, so his calm behavior and gentle humming was unusual to say the least.

“Why are you not working?” You asked carefully, as you ate some of the bread, trying to ignore how it wasn’t a fancy sourdough one - though you were pretty sure he had picked it up from a local bakery in the village which was a little drive away.

“Because,” he put the paper down, then tapping some ash off the cigar into his ashtray, before looking over at you, a pleased smile on his face, “you and I are going on a trip.”

“A trip?” You didn’t even bother to be embarrassed about how your voice got higher with excitement or how your tail thumped against the backrest of the chair as you wagged it, “where are we going? When? Can we go now?”

Price had laughed, a happy sound that you knew not many got to hear; it made your heart beat a little faster, made you feel butterflies in your stomach.

“Well, we got to do a few things first to get ready, and you ,” he used the cigar to point at you, your tail wagging a little faster, “need to not freak out when I tell you where we are going.”

Despite the warning, tears streamed down your cheeks when he told you. John didn’t get mad as a part of you had expected; he knew your abandonment issues first hand, knew how you had been left behind before, from one bad owner to another.

“You’re going to sell me and leave me with a mean owner and I’m gonna die of hunger and thirst - and - and —“

“Not gonna leave you, princess,” John crooned, covering your face in kisses as you hiccuped and sniffled, clinging to his clothes, “you know that. My favorite puppy. Pretty girl.”

Despite your tears and small sobs, your tail wagged at his words, “silly puppy,” he mused with a smile, gently scratching your lower back, “‘m not gonna sell you. Ale and Rodolfo are looking for a hybrid, I figured we could go look at the auction as well.”

“What if - what if - what if you’ll like them more?” You sniffled dramatically, sure that your life was only going to become worse than it already was. One thing was this bloody farm and the crate, another thing was having to share Price. You didn’t like the idea one bit. If that happened, you were going to show him how a proper tantrum was thrown - the crate would probably be the least of your worries.

As if to prove his love, John bent you over the table, fucking you in between the clattering dishes and cutlery, tea and coffee almost spilling over. Despite how many times your owner fucked you, it made you lose control of your mind every single time. His cock reached so deep inside you that it bordered on pain, your mouth open as you panted and moaned at each thrust; your soft stomach being pressed against the edge of the table, one hand holding onto the back of your collar, the other on your tail. The table rattled, John groaned and moaned, your fingers desperately trying to hold onto anything.

“My princess,” he snarled darkly into your ear, “you’ll always be mine-“ a moan, a grunt, “- no matter what happens, yeah?”

“Yes ye-ah- yes, sir, I’m yours - ah ah - I’m yours!” you managed in between pants and wails of pleasure, fear of abandonment forgotten in the ocean of euphoric satisfaction.

You came harder than you had for a while; the reminder of your worth, of how you deserved his worship, making you cream around his throbbing length, legs in spasms afterwards. He pushed deeper, filling you up with a loud roar like sound, his hands moving to grab onto the fat of your ass and hips as he came. Pain and pleasure made your toes curl and a content sigh left you, your tail wagging against Price as he chuckled.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

The auction hall was filled to the brim with humans and hybrids alike. Every owned hybrid followed their respective owners, all wearing mandatory leashes so no pets would be confused with the ones that were being sold. You wore your own pink one with pride, gem stones sparkling. A matching leash connected to the D-ring on it, that also bore your tags. You were convinced yours were the most beautiful in this entire place.

“They’re bonded,” Laswell pointed out, pointing to the papers that hung nearby, showing off general information about them, “gotta get all three.”

You dared to look at the little board with the informations about the three hybrids they were looking at.

“Ah, we don't have space for three, mi amor.”

“eso es una pena,” Rodolfo answered, while you looked over at John - who kept looking at the three hybrids. You dared to peek over at them.

All three of them were enormous .

Two of them wore muzzles, meaning they were biters. At least at the auction. You shouldn’t judge then, not really, but you did... Even though you had worn a muzzle five years ago, when Price had chosen you. You hadn’t tried biting people out of malice; you had been scared and angry at the world. Angry for being abandoned once more, over the fact that you were most likely being passed on to another abusive master. You leaned a little closer to Price, taking in his scent.

Even from the start, despite all the problems and your attitude problems, he had been sweet. Strict at times — probably not enough — but kind.

The biggest one looked like a Great Pyrenees breed, most likely. The fur on his ears and tail looked shorter, badly cut. Probably due to matting or if he refused to get it cut. His hair, a dark blonde almost brown, was in a buzz cut. He had scars, all over - unable to hide because of the lack of clothes most hybrids were given, only underwear. There was a lot in his face, though you suspected a bunch were hidden by the muzzle. He stared into nothing, his ears curled back, though they moved now and again, listening to different sounds.

“Hard to get sold,” Laswell commented and you looked over at her in synchronicity with John, “they’re ex-military.”

Like he had been called to them, a man who wore one of the seller badges appeared.

“They’re obedient once they fall into place,” he happily explained, going full seller-mode, “they’re just not too fond of the auctions - too many people.”

“Makes sense,” Price mused, clearly interested - much to your annoyance. The fact that he asked follow up questions made you frown, fingers tightening in his shirt. He was here to look. To help Alejandro and Rodolfo, who both had continued their walk. You dared to look over at the hybrids again. All three were staring at you and John.

“How come they were discharged?”

“One of them got a hearing loss -“ he nodded towards them, “the one with the mohawk. And they’re a bonded pack.”

“So only retiring him was out of the question,” John concluded once more looking over at them.

You felt your tail go in between your legs. He couldn’t be seriously considering those three . you couldn’t help but let out a small whine. Price gave your leash a little tug.

“They’re working dogs,” the seller continued, his eyes flickering to you, making you huff, “so they’ll need something to do, not just be pets.”

“Oh I know. I have a farm. Need some work dogs - this one isn’t guarding much.”

They all laughed, your tail going even further between your legs with embarrassment.

“You can’t be serious,” you whined in a whisper to John, not caring that you sounded needy - spoiled would Laswell had said and you ignored her as she rolled her eyes.

“Hush, Princess.” John didn’t even look at you.

“You have animals there?” The seller asked, “one of them is a herding dog - the border collie.”

“I do - several. That’s why there's a need for guarding dogs as well, bloody wolves have been terrorizing us.”

You knew he was telling the truth; he had muttered about dead sheeps and goats several times - even a calf had lost its life to the wolves in the area, despite he and Laswell having shot two already. Even foxes had gotten into the coop, despite the fences.

“They’re good at that too, with their training,” the seller offered, clearly interested in selling them or at least getting John to bid on them. “The one with the mohawk, Soap , will have hearing aids with him, so you don’t need to worry about that.”

You looked over at this “Soap”, scrunching your nose. They were still staring, the biggest one bending down to listen to the third one, a beautiful black man, whisper in his ear. No doubt judging you.

“It says here they don’t do well with others,” you muttered, in a desperate attempt to sway John, pointing to the board with their papers. It did indeed say so, to which you wanted to argue that YOU should be his main focus in this whole thing - how would he even consider adding them to your household if these dogs could get a hold of you?

“It’s in the sense that they’re not really housetrained to be social family pets,” the seller swooped in, pushing your argument away, annoying you even more, “they’ve had missions all their lives. They need to have something to do.”

“I’m sure you’ll get along with them, sweetheart,” Price answered, giving you a small scratch beneath your chin as he finally looked over at you, a glint in his eyes, “some company will do you good.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. Hardly . Price’s smile told you that he thought this was a great idea however. You dared to look at the men again. Still staring, fucking bastards.

The black man seemed like a mix of some breeds, German shepherd and… you looked shortly at the board. Belgian malinois. Fancy. He wasn’t as tall as the big one, but broad and with scars as well. There was a more slender look to him, but his six pack proved he was strong. His curly hair wasn’t too long, probably cut not too long ago. He was looking at you curiously, making you raise your upper lip a little, as if to warn him.

The one with the hearing loss looked like some sort of border collie - covered in scars as well, some of his skin looking like it had been too close to fire. He was broad like the two others, his upper arms the size of your head. He even sent you a cheeky grin, even daring to wink at you. You just looked away, tipping your chin up a little.

“You can look closer if you want, sir?”

You were pulled back into the conversation at once and before you could argue, John had already passed on your leash to Laswell and walked towards the men with the seller. You whined, distressed that he was really, actually considering this.

“You’ll be fine,” Laswell commented calmly, with empathy in her voice for once, though she didn’t look at you, merely at John and the others.

“He is gonna lose interest in me,” you whined, perhaps a little dramatically, bottom lip wobbling a little as you could feel tears welling up in your eyes, “then he’ll leave me in the crate all day and only care about them an—“

“Calm down,” Laswell said, “you’ll work yourself into a fuss.”

“He can’t do this to me,” you argued in a sullen voice, already imagining John forgetting all about you, focusing on these three hybrids for the rest of his life, leaving you cold and lonely inside the dog crate - maybe even rehoming you, “he promised he wouldn’t get rid of me.”

“You’re being dramatic,” Laswell answered just as calmly as before, “John loves you too much, you’re just being spoiled. Hanging out with some working dogs will do you good.”

“They probably have fleas,” you said, your prejudices seeping into your words, knowing you’re being mean, judgmental against your own kind, “they’ll kill me and eat my dead body.”

Laswell laughed. “No they won’t. Worst thing they’ll do, is probably knock you up.”

A high pitched, scandalized sound left you, despite knowing you had an implant. Laswell laughed again, giving your leash a little yank and then scratching you behind your long ears.

“Settle, Princess. That won’t happen without John’s permission.”

You almost cried at the sight of John shaking the seller’s hand.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

They all met up again for the actual auction part and you sat at John’s feet, sniffling a little. Crying hadn’t helped, in fact John had just petted and kissed you, calling you sensitive. Alejandro had gotten a hybrid earlier that they didn’t need to bid on - she was for sale for a certain price. Something about being too intense without enough space to roam, having attacked others before.

Fucking great. Beasts all around you.

John won the bidding on the three working dog hybrids he had been interested in - because of course he did. He spent way too much money on them too, according to you.

One more - or well, three more fucking things to hate about this “farming life” that had been forced upon you.

Maybe John had gone mad.

next chapter ->

756 notes · View notes