#GET OVER YOURSELF WE WORK IN A LIBRARY???HELP | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thebestandworstdayofjune · 4 months ago

Text

i'm down on my knees, i wanna take you there

summary: you are suiting up for your first mission, the only problem being everyone "forgot" (intentionally withheld) this information from Logan wc: 2.3k a/n: thank you thank you so much for all of your support about my other Logan fic!! I am really enjoying writing for him, and have a few ideas for this Logan as well as some for Worst!Wolverine aka Deadpool 3!Logan as well! More info about empath!reader's powers and her role at the school in this one <3 warnings: slight (incredibly) slight angst, protective!Logan, a bit of a hurt comfort vibe, Ororo, Scott and Jean are meddlers this is the previous fic with these two, not required reading at all, though!

The leather was cool and surprisingly soft against your skin. There had never been reason for you to have to accompany a mission requiring one of the suits before, and you were shocked at how comfortable the uniform was. Typically, when you were asked to help with a mission, you were there for intel. Scope the place out, get a read on the general vibe of the place. Your powers didn’t provide the same level of protection as laser eyes or a strong regenerative healing factor. You would typically arrive with Rogue, in clothes from your own closet and one of the least fancy cars from the garage. You would slip in, get your read, and get out.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to help, you just lacked the training that the other members of the team had. And after all, someone had to stay back to mind things at the school. When Charles had approached you a few months ago about some possible applications for your mutation that would come in handy on missions, you’d been hesitant. It was so outside of your comfort zone to load yourself onto a jet that you’d never even considered the possibility. You were far more comfortable in the library where you held English classes for the students, or helping Charles keep students calm while exploring their powers. Neither scenario included the possibility of a lot of violence.

Ororo helped you finish zipping yourself into the suit, smoothing her hands along the sleeves before giving you a final nod of approval. Jean and Scott granted you small smiles and you did your best to look as confident as you knew they felt.

They’d promised it was a simple mission, the kind they usually took students on when Charles felt they were ready to join the team, if that’s what they decided to do after wrapping up their schooling. Charles had heard word of a young mutant who had some kind of telekinetic powers and had recently had an eruption while at school. Everyone agreed that it would be best to find them and convince them to return to the school for some training with as little force as possible, only expedited by the fact that Charles had found them hungry and afraid after running away from home using Cerebro. In the past, the kids had been resistant due to huge amounts of fear, causing them to lash out. You knew they were right that your powers would be useful at times like these, and if you were able to help in any way you were inclined to.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing to her?” You sighed. It wasn’t that you were all conspiring to keep this a secret from Logan. It wasn’t a discussion that you’d had to agree on group espionage. It just seemed that all of you had a sort of understanding that it might be better to ask forgiveness rather than permission. Not that you needed permission.

Logan looked furious, and what’s worse, he felt furious. You and Charles had been working to extend your powers over further distances, no longer needing to touch someone directly to know how they feel. Though it certainly doesn’t hurt matters. You’d sensed him upstairs, seemingly pacing around and seething. You’d hoped one of the kids had gotten on his nerves, or something on tv had set him off. You could see that was foolish now.

“We aren’t doing anything to her,” Scott had his visor on, blocking his eyes from view, but you didn’t need to see to know that he was rolling his eyes. “She’s chosen to accompany us on a mission.”

“A small mission!” Ororo chimed in, doing her best to give Logan a reassuring smile.

You checked back in with his aura. Still furious. But it was a nice try, you supposed. Logan’s hackles were raised, his chest heaving. This certainly wouldn’t do. “Can I have a moment with you,” you glanced around the room, briefly meeting the other three mutant’s eyes. “Alone?”

Logan was still staring daggers at Scott. He wasn’t even the one who suggested you were ready to come along. Jean and Charles had approached you this morning. You laid a hand against his arm, hoping to lead him out of the room, but he flinched away. The pang in your heart was immediate. Did he really think you were so callous that you would ever use your powers without his express permission, or some kind of emergency. You could feel the tears starting to gather in the corner of your eye, your arms wrapping protectively around your midsection.

Jean slipped one arm through Scott’s and took Ororo’s hand with her other, gently leading them out of the room. “We are going to check a few things with the jet, last minute.” She began to hustle them out of the room. “Call if you need anything!”

The door shut firmly behind them, and you were left alone with Logan, who looked like he was going to start shaking. “I wasn’t going to-”

“You don’t think I know that?” You can’t help but recoil. You have never been afraid of Logan, even when it may have been in your best judgement to be wary, and you still aren’t. But you can’t deny that it hurts when he snaps at you. Especially when you thought, well. You thought you were growing close. You started to turn away, but before you could, a warm hand caught ahold of your arm. “I’m not… fuck.” He took a heaving breath, shaking his head as if he could clear whatever thoughts were bothering him. “I’m not mad.”

Despite the serious energy of the conversation, you couldn’t help the incredulous look you shot his way. He tried his best to hide it, but you could see the corner of his mouth turning up at you. “Fine, I’m not mad at you.”

“You know, you really can’t be mad at anyone, they were just doing-” you were cut off when you fell Logan’s hand traveling down your arm, and pushing your sleeve up gently from where it was covering your hand. He slipped his hand into yours and you felt yourself relax a bit. “Just, take a look, yeah?”

“Are you sure you want me to?”

“I trust you, bub.” You searched his eyes for any sign of hesitancy, but all you found was trust. Complete and utter trust. You nodded, tightening your own grip on his hand. Doing your best not to let the gentle rub of his thumb against your knuckles distract you, you took a deep breath and opened yourself up to his feelings.

At first you did feel anger, bright red and hot. You sifted past it, steeling yourself. The first time you had encountered such strong anger, you had felt as if you were going to collapse. But you were stronger now, more prepared to deal with these kinds of feelings. The anger was strong, but also surprisingly shallow. In the depths of his emotions, Logan was worried. Terrified. A deep dark purple that made your own hands shake. His grip on your hand tightened, effectively drawing you back to yourself. There was more, a soft inviting pink that you didn’t dare to touch and shiny bright gold, which told you he was proud.

You opened your eyes, fighting back the heat you felt creeping onto your cheeks. His expression hadn’t changed, pure trust and tenderness. It should have been disarming, or at the very least surprising. Logan wasn’t so open and honest with people. But the two of you had always had different expectations for the other.

You couldn’t help it, a smile crept over your features. “You’re proud of me?”

He rolled his eyes, but his smile only grew. He took your free hand in his, pulling you in closer. “I’m always proud of you.” He hesitated for a brief moment, and you did your best to bite your tongue. You could tell Logan had been making an effort to open up lately, and not just to you, but that didn’t make prolonged silences and easier to bear. “I know it’s not my place to demand anything of you.”

“You’re my… friend.” You cut him off, wincing at the pause. It didn’t feel like the time to pressure him into labeling whatever feelings may be floating around. “And I always want to hear my friend’s opinions. What’s bothering you so badly?”

“I could hear your heartbeat from upstairs.” Your eyes grew wide, too shocked to try to school your expression. Logan had told you several times that he had learned to block out his enhanced hearing when he was quite young. Usually to tease you when you got on a long tangent about something you enjoyed. He pretended to zone out and ignore you, but he would always remember small details about your rants, bringing them up nonchalantly at a later date “I, uh, keep an ear out sometimes. Helps with the worry.”

He worries about you? Even more surprising, he’s listening to your heartbeat like background music to his day. You promise yourself you will ask him about it when you don’t have a room full of your friends waiting on you. “I thought we’d covered this. I can take care of myself.”

He sighed, bringing a hand to rest gently where your jaw meets your neck. “Sweetheart, I know you can. But that doesn’t stop me from watching out for you.”

Your hand moved to rest overtop of his. “The good news is that I will have lots of people watching out for me. You know they won’t let anything happen.” You receive a single huff in return. He’s not convinced. “You know that these are the kinds of missions we send the kids on. I’ll be fine.”

He considers for a moment, before dropping his hand and nodding. “Give me a second to get changed, and we will head out.”

You grabbed for his hand, but he was already out the door, and moving too fast for you to stop. “Logan, don’t be ridiculous.”

“What’s ridiculous is you thinking that I would ever let you go out there alone.”

“As we already established, I have three very capable friends coming with me. I am only going as a contingency plan.”

“Well then consider me the contingency to the contingency plan.” You huffed, following him next door.

You darted around in front of Logan, pushing against his chest with all your strength, even if you were fully aware that it was the equivalent of a fly buzzing around him. He stopped all the same, eyebrows pulled together in frustration. “I know you’re worried and I know that this is you trying to help.” Logan had his I’m about to interrupt you look on his face, leaving you to shove him again. Thankfully, he understood your intention. “This is important to me. You can’t be there every time, and I have to stand on my own two feet. I want to contribute to the work we do here more than just teaching kids about how awesome Shakespeare is.” The look was back. “Which is still an important contribution.” You added, which seemed to appease him. “But, I don’t want it to be my only contribution. So I am going to go and make sure that this scared kid who is all alone out there makes it back here safe. And you are going to stay here and make sure that everyone gets dinner and help with their assignments. And then when I get back, we are going to have a talk about all this.”

“All this?” A smile crept back onto your face, hearing the teasing tone in his voice.

“Oh my god shut up!” He caught your hands before they made contact with his chest, but he was slow to let go this time. He brought the back of both of your hands to his mouth, dropping a small kiss on each one, before returning your hands to your side.

“If you come back with so much as a bump to the head, Scott’s dead.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, and pointing out that this was exactly what you were talking about earlier did little to sway him. So you gave in, agreeing to give him a full report before slipping your hand into his and tugging him towards the jet.

“We’ll be back in a bit.” You promised. You could feel the others staring from just inside the jet, but you barely noticed. Logan was checking over your suit meticulously, tugging zippers a few more clicks up and making sure that the collar wasn’t too tight around your neck. He kneeled down, checking to make sure the laces on your boots were double knotted. “Logan,” you laughed, reaching down to tilt his head up to look at you. “I’m too seconds away from sending a lot of exhaustion your way and leaving you passed out in here. You have to let me go, it’s going to be fine.”

He remained kneeling for a second too long, a look in his eyes you couldn’t entirely place. The sound of the jet powering on broke the both of you out of your trance. He was on his feet in a flash, checking over you one final time. You rose up on your tippy toes, balancing by resting your hands on his shoulders, before gently kissing him on the cheek. You pulled back, nose scrunched up from the tickle of his facial hair. “We’ll be back in a few hours. Hold down the fort for us, yeah?”

He nodded, pupils slightly blown out and a dreamy look on his face. You giggled, walking backwards for as long as you can before turning around and finding a seat on the jet. You could feel Jean and Scott’s eyes on you as Ororo began maneuvering the jet out of the garage. “Don’t even start.” You muttered, settling firmly into your seat, doing your best to soak up the pride and confidence the others were projecting into the cockpit.

as always, feedback is so appreciated! if you have any requests for these two/wolverine in general, please leave them here!

next part

4K notes · View notes

niennanir · 1 year ago

Text

Listen to your elders

So last week I posted abut the importance of downloading your fic. And then three days later AO3 went down for 24 hours. No one was more weirded out by this than I was. But while y’all were acting like the library at Alexandria was on fire I was reading my download fic and editing chapter eight of Buck, Rogers, and the 21st Century. And also thinking about what I could do to be helpful when the crisis was actually over.

So first off, I’m going to repeat that if you’re going to bookmark a fic, you really need to also download the fic and back it up in a safe place. I just do it automatically now and it’s a good habit to get into.

But let’s talk about some other scenarios. Last October I lost power for over a week after hurricane Ian. Apart from not having internet or A/C I did find plenty to do, I collect books so I had plenty to read, but maybe, unlike me, your favorite comfort reads aren’t sitting on a bookshelf. So let’s do something about that, shall we?

In olden times many long years ago around 1995 we printed off a lot of fic. It was mostly SOP to print a fic you planned to reread and stick it in a three ring binder. And that’s totally valid today too, but you can also make a very nice paperback with a minimum amount of skill and materials.

Let’s start with the download; Go to Ao3 and select your fic, we’ll be working with one of mine. This method works best with one shots, long fic tends to need a more complicated approach. Get yourself an HTML download

Open up the HTML download and select all then copy paste into any word processor. Set the page to landscape and two columns, then change the font to something you find easy to read, this is your book, no judgement. This is all you have to do for layout but I like to play a little bit. I move all the meta, summary, notes to the end and pick out a fun font for the title:

No time like the present to do a quick proofread. Congratulations, you’ve just created your first typeset. On to the fun part.

Now you’re going to need some materials: 8.5x11in paper ruler one sheet of 12x12 medium card stock (60-80lb) scissors pencil pen or fine tip marker sheet of wax paper white glue two binder clips 2 heavy books or 1 brick butter knife

You’ll also need a printer, if you’re in the US there is almost a 100% chance your local library has a printer you can use if you don’t have your own. None of these materials are expensive and you can literally use cheap copy paper and Elmers glue.

Print your text block, one page per side. Fold the first page in half so that the blank side is inside and the printed side out:

use the butter knife to crease the edge. Repeat on all the sheets. When you’ve finished, stack them up with the raw edge on the left and the folded edge on the right. I used standard copy paper, because you’re only printing on one side there’s no bleed to worry about. Take the text block and line everything up. Use the binder clips to hold the raw edge in place.

Wrap the text block in the wax paper so that the raw edge and binder clips are facing out. I’m going to use my home built book press but you don’t need one, a brick or a couple of books or anything else heavy will work fine.

Once the text block is anchored down, take off he binder clips and get out the glue.

You can use a brush but you don’t need one, smear some glue on that raw edge.

Go make a margarita, watch The Mandalorian, call your mother. Don’t come back for at least an hour

In an hour smear some more glue on there and shift your brick forward so that the whole book is covered. This keeps the paper from warping. While glue part 2 is drying we’ll do the cover. Get out your 12x12 cardstock

Mark the cardstock off at 8.5 inches and cut it. Measure in 5.5 inches from the left and put in a score line with the butter knife (the back edge not the sharp edge)

Carefully fold the score line, this is your front cover. You have some options for the cover title, you can use a cutting machine like a cricut if you have one, you can print out a title on the computer and use carbon paper to transfer the text to the cardstock. I was in a mood so I just freehanded that beoch. Pencil first then in pen.

Take your text block out from under your brick. Line it up against the score mark and mark the second score on the other side of the spine

Fold the score and glue the textblock into the cover at the spine. Once the glue dries up mark the back cover with the pencil and then trim the back cover to fit with your scissors.

Voila:

I’m going to put this baby on the shelf next to the Silmarillion.

The whole process, not counting drying time, took less than an hour.

If you want to make a book of a longer fic, I recommend Renegade Publishing, they have a ton of resources for fan-binders.

#fanbinding #fanfiction #Nir paperback

21K notes · View notes

backinmyphase · 6 days ago

Text

Part 1

Thinking about how obsessed King of Curses Sukuna is with you, you, who was originally just a gift from a village.

Lord Sukuna, who is oblivious to the reason why he treats you differently, who thinks you are just the most intriguing person he had seen in years. He didn't know it was over for him the moment he saw your standing there, anger obvious behind your loosely mask. You looked at him with these challenging eyes and raised your head, making that snappy comment. Normally he would have killed you right then and there.

But he didn't. In fact he doesn't even know why he had burned down that village for you.

And now you were sitting in his estate, always with that scowl on your face.

Why did he allow you to eat with him? Why did he order you to eat with him? He doesn't know. But he didn't want you to eat without him, which he just can't explain to himself.

He couldn't explain why he made sure Uraume was watching over you. Didn't know why he gave you your own chamber, so many new clothes and why he gave you permission to go inside his library. Something inside him was just telling him that was right.

And that something inside of him was so angry to see you falling into yourself. To see you neglecting your health over weeks.

It was evening.

Like always, there was a big dinner prepared for the king and he had ordered you to eat with him. But you didn't touch your food, no you just sat there, looking at your plate to avoid his gaze. Oh, he didn't like that.

He stopped eating, narrowing his eyes on your cowering figure. "Why are you not eating."

"Not hungry." your voice was hoarse but still snappy like always.

"You need to eat."

He glanced at Uraume, who shook their head. A silent note you didn't have any sickness.

You picked at the food, but still no sign of actual eating. And god, did it drive him crazy. You were driving him crazy. Your never leaving scowl and your constant denying of everything he had laid out. He just didn't get you.

He didn't know why he even bothered. But he still spoke up.

"What is on your mind?"

You looked up at him. There was no scowl, like he thought, no there was just a shimmer of exhaustion and maybe frustration.

"What am I even doing here, my Lord?" your voice didn't have any sharp in it. "I'm no servant for you, no concubine, not even a jester or anything like that. Why am I here?"

Silence flooded the room. Because you had just asked the question Sukuna asked himself every day. Why did he even bring you here?

He was clueless. Or that was what his brain was telling him.

He inspected you, your almost pleading eyes and he didn't like how you looked at him. He didn't like the almost hopeless look in your eyes.

"Did you want to stay with these people, is it that?" he took a sip of wine.

"No, we both know it's not that." you muttered, taking a deep breath. "Why do I not work for you? Why are you so -"

He raised an eyebrow at you as you struggled to find the right word. Then you finally shook your head.

"Why are you so nice to me?"

He couldn't help but chuckle, a grin following. "You mean, why has the King of Curses not killed me yet?"

You scoffed. "Yes."

"Well you see," he stopped for a moment, before speaking again. "I find you fascinating. And I like to know what I find fascinating."

You rolled your eyes, another thing he only liked when you did it. "So I'm here to be watched like an animal because the King finds me exotic, how kind."

He started to grow impatient, he didn't know why. "You think I would let a meekly animal into my library and give them their own chambers? You think lowly of me."

You started to blink at him, confusion visible on your face. It was his turn to scoff now.

"You're fascinating because I don't get you. And I want to know you. That's why I brought you here." At least that's what he thought.

You turned completely silent, your eyes now looking down onto your plate again.

"That's why you don't 'work' for me, I don't want you to. I don't need you to." he took another sip. "You just shouldn't get your hands dirty."

He looked at you, waiting for a response. Watching how you avoided his gaze, how you gulped. For a second your eyes flicked up to look at him, but went down immediately as your eyes meet his.

"Stop." you were muttering again.

"What?"

"Staring at me like that."

"Why?" He grinned, lowering his voice. "You know I like to stare."

He saw a faint tint of blush on the part of your face he could see. You were silent for a while until you cleared your throat. "I can't eat with you staring at me like that."

. . .

"Alright, I can leave you alone to eat." he stood up. "But you have to now. Eat."

A small chuckle escaped you. "Is that an order?"

"No, it's a request." With that he turned around, leaving to go to his chambers.

You waited til he left the room to breathe. Your body finally relaxing. You looked at Uraume.

"He sounds like he is in... Does he know how he sounds?"

Uraume shook their head. "No, he has no clue. But he wants you to eat, so please do."

@thequeenofcurses

#jjk #jjk x reader #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna fluff #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x you

1K notes · View notes

slytherinslut0 · 2 months ago

Text

SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER

october 25th. tom — anal sex / sexual punishment.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST. | 2024.

summary: basically how i see a tom riddle punishment playing out. biblical tom of sorts. so self assured its impossible to piss him off so you go to lengths some may consider extreme but…eh. he knows you’re his.

warnings: 18+, SMUT MDNI, UNI hogwarts (obvs but just a reminder) reader and tom have an…interesting dynamic, toxic but also not toxic because it works for them, anal sex (obvs), sexual punishment, brief fingering, copious amounts of dirty talk, i once again utilize my favourite place in the school (the library).

"Tom—"

With a hand raised, he cuts you off. "Don't."

You blink. Swallow. Blink again. He's mad—oh, yes, he's mad—more than you've ever seen him and you once watched Abraxas Malfoy knock over his potion during a heavily-weighted exam.

That, in currency to this, is pennies.

You breathe in, try again. "Look, I can explain—"

He doesn't let you. Within a second his wand is out and with a flick of his wrist the room shifts to static—the glimmer from the silencing charm he just cast settles over your corner of the library, and you feel your fingers go numb—

"Why'd you stop?" He cocks his head, brow raised. His jaw is tight, the tension there burning into the space between you. His fingers flex. You can feel how much he's holding back. "If there's an explanation, by all means. I'd love to hear it."

Right—yeah, an explanation. That should help. Certainly, the man staring at you like he has bullets for eyes and knives for fingers will understand—he'll be completely calm once you explain to him you kissed someone else in retribution—because you wanted to get back at him.

"Well, I—" you push up from the desk, desperate to feel bigger, to level with him somehow. Tom thrives in this—having the upper hand, knowing all he has to do is stare at you, all stillness and quiet fury. He knows you hate it, that you'll spiral under it until you break and present him your neck on a silver platter. Until you hand him the knife and beg him to cut. "We had that argument, and I thought—I thought, maybe—you didn't—"

He moves closer. The air thickens. You're too focused on the fire in his eyes to acknowledge the sound of his wand clattering onto the desk—

"You thought?" His voice is something almost bored, like this is a trivial exercise for him—you can barely hear him over the roar of your pulse in your throat.

"—that you didn't want me anymore!"

You force the words out in a desperate rush, and the silence that follows feels like a goddamn canyon—you're just staring at each other, scowling in the wake of what you just said because you both know how utterly foolish it sounds. The only person Tom Riddle has and will ever allow himself to be vulnerable in front of—and you thought he'd leave after a silly argument.

No. You never thought that for a second.

And so, you try to save yourself. "Tom—I-I'm sorry, okay? I'm so sorry, I know I fucked up—but, it's not just me—I mean, you could have communicated better—"

He takes another step toward you, nodding along as if he's humoring you. "Right."

You step back—you don't mean to but the depleted space between you feels dangerous and your body reacts before you can stop it.

"Maybe—maybe we can learn from this? Right? A lesson for—for us both?" You keep talking. You don't know why, but you do. "And, maybe you could, uh, learn to talk about your feelings better?"

You wince as his eyebrows shoot up, mocking you without saying a word. Tom Riddle, talking about his fucking feelings? Right.

"I mean—you're just—" you hesitate because you know you're digging your own grave, yet he's still staring, daring you to finish. "—you're just so hard to read, you know?"

Another bored nod, another step closer. "Of course."

You swallow, stumbling back—of course Tom knows he's hard to read, that's the point. Every word out of your mouth is a wasted effort, a desperate attempt to reason with someone who's beyond it. Your ass collides with the desk behind you, boxing you in—and suddenly, he's there, right in front of you, all of his typical Tom intensity pouring into the limited space between you.

His breath brushes against your cheek, close enough that his lips could meet yours. But you know they won't. He'd never make it that easy. You can't tell if it's fear or something more wicked that twists in your chest. Dread, excitement—God, maybe both—

"You tried to provoke me."

Your throat tightens around a swallow. He isn’t asking.

"Maybe."

He doesn't blink. "You tried to see if I'd care."

You open your mouth, only to close it just as quickly. What can you say that he doesn't already know? You're as transparent as glass to him, and even that is a goddamn understatement. All you offer is a slow nod, unsure but weighted—he wasn't looking for an answer, he was looking for submission.

"And you thought, maybe, that I would come to you. That I would react. That l'd be angry." His fingers brush up your cheek, slipping into your hair with the kind of intimacy that feels out of place given the circumstances. And, inevitably, when the pull comes biting at your scalp, it's a burn you enjoy more than you should. "Were you hoping I'd punish you?"

"Well—I-"

"You know, don't you," he tugs your hair again to quiet you. Every question he's asking is rhetorical. "You know that trying to provoke me is dangerous."

You nod, fast. "I know."

"You know that I don't like to be provoked."

"I know, I know, I-"

"Shh." His lips brush over your neck, just once—a soft, fleeting thing that promises everything and nothing at once. You can't help the way you lean into him. "You're just making this worse for yourself. No more talking."

You choke on your stupid ego, but force a nod. You asked for this. You won't fight him on it. Not here. Not now.

"Good." He hums, and you feel your heart dance, stomach leap at the barest flicker of approval in his tone. His breath skates over your jaw, and you try not to shake. "You want to show me how sorry you are, don't you?"

You nod again.

"Good." He tugs at your bottom lip and something curls at the corners of his own that doesn't quite qualify as a smile. "Turn around."

With your heart on the floor beneath your feet, you nod for a final time before doing as he asked. You find that turning is a difficult task, though not due to resistance—your body just won't cooperate—a mess of weak knees and shallow breaths and tingling skin. You do it, though, with his hand on your hip, guiding you, directing you, pushing you over the desk until you're bent at the waist, positioned just how he wants.

It's merely a moment before you feel him pressed against your back, feel his belt buckle digging into your ass—

"What do you think I should do to you?" His breath grazes the nape of your neck and reflexively, you arch into him—his hands slide up your thighs, hips, finding your waist and the band of your skirt—he tugs at your zipper, you remain quiet. You know he doesn't want you to answer. "I'm sure you had your hopes. Your assumptions."

Tom Riddle, you've determined, is a torturous lover—a slow hand, a tease until you're in tears from the overstimulation. A sort of devotee to fulfilling your needs while simultaneously tempering his own. He's so very restrained, in everything he does—not fervent, not right away, anyway—

"Maybe you hoped I'd degrade you. Remind you of your place." He tugs down the zipper, letting the fabric fall to the ground at your feet—you shudder and pull your lips tight, willing yourself to stay silent as the cool air hits you. Tom's hand roams over one of your asscheeks, pawing lazily before tapping his palm against it. “Maybe you wanted me to make you feel it."

—he only rushes—he's only careless when he's angry.

And god, he's angry now.

"Maybe." You force the reply through the sting he left on your skin. It's past midnight—quiet is everything but you two, and you're almost certain he locked the door behind him on the way in. You let your head bow, eyes fixed on the wood under your palms. "Maybe I do."

"Of course you do. You've never been subtle." His foot nudges yours further apart, his fingers trailing up your thigh, finding the damp ache between your legs. Your breath catches but you hold still, biting your tongue as he teases—digits gliding through your slit, swirling your clit. "I know you thought about it."

"About what?" You try, though the question barely gets out before his other hand smacks the thick of your ass again, harder this time. "Shit—"

"About what I'd do to you." The hand on your clit shifts to smooth over the sting, rubbing slow, while the other works the buckle of his belt. "Tell me what you wanted."

"I—" you pause, steadying, gathering yourself. You know you have to give him something, but it's hard to think when he's like this. "I—I wanted you to be...careless."

"Careless." He says it like he's savouring it, rolling it over his tongue like candy. It's not a word that suits him; you're not convinced he even knows how. "You want me to be rough—to be selfish. Like you were."

The moment his belt is loose you feel those slender fingers dip back into your slit, two of them pushing inside your cunt without warning, stretching you open as his trousers slip down his thighs— he grunts low, a sound that cuts into the quiet as his cock springs free and he presses it against you, unoccupied hand slipping back into your hair, pulling you up until you're flush with him.

"Yes." You're not sure who sounds more hollow for it—your voice for asking, his for granting it. "I want that. I deserve it. Please. Please—"

"Please. It's always please with you," he mocks, the words a hiss that burn your cheeks. "Yet, I don't get to be selfish like you, do I? I still have to show restraint."

"I mean—oh—fu—" you choke as his lips find your neck, muttering something against your skin before you feel the sudden cool slip of a lubing charm coating your asshole and cunt. "Tom-"

"Despite what you might believe, I've never had much in the way of patience," he breathes, a confession almost, something deeper—something that feels like it costs him. "Not when it comes to you."

"Tom—" you fucking gasp his name as he pulls his fingers from your cunt—only to drag them higher until they find your asshole. Despite his haste he's still at ease, massaging, pressing one finger against it until you let him in. He sinks slowly, curling slightly, and your thighs shake—lungs deflate. "Oh—oh, fuck, Tom—it's been—"

"A while, hasn't it?" He finishes, pressing a kiss just beneath your ear, his finger sliding all the way in. "So tight for me. So—tight—"

"Tom—" a repetition of the last one, his name spilling from you like it’s the only goddamn word you know how to say. "Please, Tom. Oh god—"

"Shhh." He shushes, but it's not to quiet you; you know that. He's savouring this. He slips in a second finger, stretching you wider, working you open, and you're biting your lip to keep from crying out. "This isn't about you."

"You—" your voice breaks on another gasp, hands clutching at the desk. "—you think this is punishment."

"Partially." His muses as his fingers scissor, filling you with the most delicious ache. You're so slick, arousal running down your thighs, and that—oh no, that does not escape his notice. "Look at you, dripping for me. And yet,"

"Oh god." The realization crashes over you—it’s punishment as in orgasm denial. "That's—that's not—"

"Not fair?" There's a smirk in his voice, and though he doesn't say it, you hear the word that lingers beneath it: pathetic, pathetic, pathetic. He pulls his fingers out and you whine, feeling empty for half a second before the head of his cock glides against your slit, gathering your juices before finding its way up to the throbbing ring of muscle. "Isn't this what you wanted? For me to be selfish?"

"I just—" words scatter, useless, because you're trembling, breathing hard, and then he's pressing in, slow enough to save you pain but fevered enough to make you feel him. "Oh—oh—"

"Oh fuck." He says it breathless, as if it's an agony to fit himself inside of you. "Oh yes."

And it is an agony—for both of you, though for very different reasons. Tom is huge, and even on a good day, it's a struggle to take him. He's so deep, filling you in ways you'd forgot were possible. You struggle to hold yourself upright—legs visibly shaking, teeth gritting. He sinks all the way in, and in your mind, you can almost see the look on his face, the way his lashes flutter, the way his head tips back—

"Ah—“ he groans, a rough sound that's followed by a huff and a slight roll of his hips, like he's holding back, like he can't bring himself to move just yet. He yanks you up against him by your hair. "That's fucking tight, isn't it? This must be hell for you."

He's not wrong, it is. But it's hellish for Tom too, the type of hell the two of you inflict on eachother that is as fucking addicting as it is anything else—

"Just—" you manage to bite out breathlessly, but it's a struggle to make the words. "Move—"

"Make me," he grits, jerking your head to the side until your foreheads press together. "Convince me to use you. Tell me how badly you want it. How much of a whore you are for it."

Merlin help you, you moan at his words. It's that thing inside you—the needy, desperate part that's dying at his feet. You don't know what it is or why it's there; it just is, and it's greedy. It's not something you'd give into normally—your ego is far too big to give him the satisfaction of begging, not aloud—never in words that he could use against you later—but in these moments, you both learn to make exceptions.

"Dear god, Tom—please, just use me-" you push your hips back against him, one of his hands slide up your stomach, cupping your tits. "Please, l'm—I'm a pathetic, begging whore for you. God, I know you're pissed—I feel it—just take it out on me—l want it—"

He moans—a soft, almost gentle sound—and you know you've struck a nerve, the part of him that's equally as weak in the moment—the part of him that makes it all too easy for things to spiral like this.

"Goddamn you." Something inside him snaps, something that's been frayed, just waiting for a pull—and you've pulled it now, and oh you want, no, you need him to make you pay for it, to make it hurt. "You just—you always-"

He grunts, cutting himself off and in a way, it's almost like he's thanking you because you're giving him an outlet, something to take it out on. You test each other, push and pull and let the other break, because, at the end of the day, it always comes down to this. The two of you. Like this.

A sharp inhale, and he starts to thrust.

"Fuck!" it's all you manage, it's all you can manage, because it—just like that—feels the way you wanted it to feel but it also feels so much more intense, so intense that your brain can't keep up. "Oh god—oh fuck-"

"Fucking hell," he spits, like you're the worst thing in his world and the best thing all at once, and somehow, that makes perfect sense. He lets go of your hair, and you slump forward onto the desk, elbows barely holding you up as his hand smacks your ass, fingers spreading you apart. "So—so tight—“

You're a shuddering mess, helpless to it; all you can do is remember to breathe through it.

"That's it." Another smack to your ass, thrusts quick and deep. "Fuck. The things you drive me to do."

You know him so well—and he knows you just as damn well, and that's the point, isn't it? That's what this is all about. You're the perfect mix of wrong, a match that burns too hot it hurts but the ache makes him feel alive.

"I want to cum—" your neglected clit is begging for it, you’re fucking begging for it. "Tom please—"

At that, he laughs and it's mean and it's condescending and you love—God—how you love it and want it and can't get enough of it. His hips snap forward a little bit rougher and you lose a bit more of your sanity—

"You think you deserve to come, after what you did?" Another smack to your ass.

You don't know how to answer, and he doesn't wait for one anyway. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you—everything is so calculated and calculated and calculated. You've never once seen him falter, and you don't expect to see it now. You don't know if you'd survive it if you did.

"No." He answers for you. "You don't."

His fingers trace around your thigh, grazing your mound and finding your needy clit, your sopping slit, gliding through it—you moan louder than you should as he gathers your slick on his fingers, humming at what he finds there before retreating—bringing them up to your mouth.

"Open."

You open your mouth and he feeds you your need—the result of his selfishness. You love him for what he is and you love him for what he isn’t too. How he tries to be both, only when you ask.

"Taste that?" It's a whisper, something he's telling you.

You sob around his fingers as he fucks your ass deep—he pulls them out to let you respond. You nod. "Yes."

"Taste how much you want this?"

"Yes." A pathetic moan. The perfect response.

"Good girl." He presses the words into your hair, the back of your neck, along your spine. He sucks in a breath as he fucks like he needs it just to speak. "You're going to remember this the next time you think about doing something just to spite me, I hope you know that."

Of course you will. He knows it, you know it—there's no doubt in your mind that you'll remember this the next time you toy with his patience; the next time you give him a reason to discipline you again. And what's worse is: you'll do it anyway.

It's a battle you two will fight for eternity.

But you don't get a chance to respond, not that you'd have one anyways—because his hand is on your throat and his lips are at your ear and he's sucking in air through his teeth and then—

"I'm going to cum." He whispers and you hear the pain in it. "Fuck."

You shiver in reply; a whine of a whimper coming from the back of your throat. “Tom—“

"Shh." He shushes you with his free hand, gripping your jaw as his thrusts turn sloppy, erratic. "Fucking take it.”

God—you’ll take it. Of course you will. You asked for this, drove him to this point. You're both sick, but this is the kind that doesn't have a cure.

One of his hands moves to his own hair, tugging at the back of his head; it's the only hint you've had this whole time of how much he's affected by this, how much it's driven him mad. He's doing his best to keep control, to maintain composure and make sure you feel it—but it's the way his hand squeezes your hip when he lets go of your throat that gives him away.

It gives in to what he's been repressing.

"Ohhh—fuck—yes—" and then you feel it, feel him, hot and sticky and warm, filling your ass and holding you there until he’s finished. His body collapses against the back of yours, hips slow rolling until he's drained—until you’ve taken all of him, all of his anger and frustration and restraint along with it. He’s sweaty, exhausted, spent—forehead pressed to your hair. "You feel that?"

"You know I do." You're not allowed to sound so smug, not while you're in the position you're in, but you are. It’s why he loves you. "That's what you were looking for."

"No, that's what you were looking for." He nips your ear, and you hear the smile in his voice when he bites down on it and murmurs a, "and that's why you're my favourite," into it.

"And you mine, Tommy."

2K notes · View notes

darknight3904 · 8 days ago

Text

buy me presents, baby!

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: The holiday season is packed enough as it is. On top of it all, Joel has a cute little girlfriend he just can't seem to resist spoiling...

Warnings: 18+ Explicit Smut Unprotected p in v, literally one spank, riding, missionary, Joel's a bit of a tease, pregnancy mention (no ones actually pregnant, don't worry) No outbreak au, modern au, viagra mention, unspecified age gap (mid/early-20s reader in mind), Rich older bf Joel!! I don't know how Hinge works sorry.

Word Count: 2.7k

Based on the song buy me presents by Sabrina Carpenter

Masterlist

The local mall was a buzz with what you swore was the entire state of Texas. Everywhere you turned, someone was brushing by you, mumbling an excuse me or just grunting an apology.

"Maybe we should just go home...There's so many people here." You say as you stand off to the side.

"Oh c'mon we drove all the way here, don't you wanna take a peek at some things, darlin'?"

Joel's warm southern tone sent a tingle of warmth down your spine. He was always so charming, that's how he won you over in the first place, his charm.

You'd stumbled across his Hinge profile six months ago. Your friend, Jess had jokingly set your profile to look for men over ten years older than you.

"Trust me, Dilfs are a whole different ballpark, girl!"

You hadn't believed her, after all, who would want some old half-bald, blue pill-taking man sitting across from them at dinner?

Things of course changed late one Wednesday night when Joel, 40 popped up on your screen. Not only did he have all his hair (and teeth!) but damn it he was so hot.

For lack of a better word, Joel was the perfect gentleman. He'd picked you up for your first date right at 7, opened all the doors for you, and even pulled your chair out for you to sit at the restaurant. Conversation had flowed so easily with him, that you'd almost forgotten you had just met the man across from you.

Fast forward a few months and here you were walking the mall with the head and Co-owner of Miller Construction Co. Joel's big hand cradled yours as he opened the door to Sephora.

"Said you needed some more of that lip balm you like right? Let's get it now."

You nodded and let him pull you into the store. He always did this, pulled you into stores so you could look at things. Of course, that wouldn't be a problem if he wasn't always buying half the things you picked up to admire. Hell, one time you were at Macy's with him and made a joke about the adult Spiderman onesie that was being sold, two days later it was sitting in your lap in just your size.

Jess had told you to enjoy it, to let him buy you everything your little heart desired but you couldn't help but feel guilty. You already spent most of your time sleeping at Joel's place, showering there, and eating his food. What were you even working for if you couldn't buy a measly lip balm for yourself?!

You pulled the one you wanted from the shelf. You'd run out a few days ago and your lips had begun to crack without it. Your eyes fell down to look at the price that was beside the scent

Twenty-four bucks?! That was nearly two hours of working at the shitty secretary job you had down at the local library! Whoever was setting prices at this company needed a serious reality check.

Joel's back was turned as he was staring at an array of brushes, mumbling that no one needed that many things for their face. Perfect! You could sneakily set this back on the display and-

"What're you doin'? Isn't that the one?"

Shit.

"Well yeah, but..."

"Then put it in the basket."

Joel's outstretched arm came up to present the little black and white basket he'd taken from a worker when the two of you entered.

"I just think that twenty-four bucks is too much for a little tube of lip balm. I think I'll just switch back to Carmex or Burts Bee's."

"Darlin' I'll buy it." Joel gave you a warm smile, "Let me spoil you."

"No way! You just bought me dinner!" You shake your head, thinking of your leftovers that sat in the backseat of his car.

"And now I wanna buy you a lip balm," Joel says taking it from your hands to put in the basket.

"Nope. We're not getting it." You say, pulling it from his hands and tossing it back on the shelf, "Let's leave."

Joel protests but lets you pull him from the store and back to the car.

Three days later...

Joel never liked shopping. He'd always been the kind of guy who bought the same shirt in multiple colors just because it made sense in his mind. Even when the company had taken off and he and Tommy were living comfortably instead of paycheck to paycheck, he hadn't really found an excuse to indulge and spend a lot of his hard-earned cash. Sure, he'd dropped a lot on a new car after his poor pickup truck had gotten rear-ended two years ago, damn teen drivers. Then, there was the new roof that his house needed last summer. But, both of those were easily paid off and Joel often found himself with a bank account higher than necessary.

It never bothered him, after all, it just meant retirement would come quicker, and if he ever had kids they'd have a lot of inheritance. Yes, Joel was happy living his simple lifestyle. Of course, that was until he met you...

You were just perfect in Joel's eyes. From the moment he saw you on that dating app Tommy had stuck on his phone, he'd known you were the one for him. Initially, he'd felt weird when he'd swiped on you, after all, you were so young compared to him. His fears though, they'd vanished the moment you started laughing at his lame jokes, adding your own even worse ones to the conversation. Yes, you were just perfect for him.

Now, it was December, the holiday season was in full swing and Joel found himself itching to spend some of that cash that'd been sitting in the bank for ages. He'd spent the last six months trying to keep the spending to a minimum, you always scolded him despite enjoying all of his gifts and he'd hate to make you feel uncomfortable. But after today when you'd put that little lip balm back on the shelf, he'd felt sad for you. Joel hadn't missed your small frown when it clattered back onto the display next to the others. You wanted that lip balm and, you were going to get that lip balm.

It was as if he was a man possessed. Three hours had passed since he'd walked into this mall and his arms were begging to feel a bit sore. Sure, he'd bought you the lip balm but before he knew it, he was wandering into all the other stores, looking for things that'd make you smile and cover his face in kisses. As he loaded the bags into the trunk a bit of worry crossed his mind. Had he gone overboard?

No, there definitely could be more...

December 25th, Christmas Morning at Joel Miller's

The warm scent of coffee had your eyes slowly pulling open. You groaned and pulled yourself out of bed, fumbling to pull Joel's shirt on before finding your discarded panties from last night. Whoever told you that older men needed Viagra to get it up clearly hadn't met Joel.

You padded down the steps to see Joel hunched over the stove, flipping pancakes while his beloved coffee maker brewed.

"Morning." You chirp, wrapping your arms around him, and resting your hands on his soft belly.

"Good morning." Joel's deep voice filled your ears

You greedily let your hands slip under the waistband of his plaid pajama pants. Joel lets out a hum and scoots away from you.

"Keep that up and we won't be eating or opening gifts til noon."

You roll your eyes and go to pour him his coffee.

After a delicious breakfast, Joel pulled you into the living room where your jaw nearly met the floor. Last night when you'd passed out in bed after the third round, there had been six presents under the tree, three from him and three from you. Now there had to be over triple that.

"What did you do?" You ask, spinning around to face Joel.

"What? I'm not allowed to spoil you?" Joel asks, a boyish grin on his face.

"It's like you bought the whole damn store and put it in your living room." You point out

"Not the whole store, just some of it." Joel laughs

Nearly an hour later, you were sitting in a pile of wrapping paper and bows.

"Alright, last one," Joel says, pulling a small gift bag with a snowman on it out.

You sigh in fake exhaustion, "Hand it over, cowboy."

Joel snorts and hands you the bag which a moment later you find has the lip balm you'd put back the other day.

"Went back and bought it for ya. Got a little distracted though..." Joel smiles

"Oh, only a little? Is that why there's lingerie and a new pair of boots sitting in boxes next to me?" You laugh, "Not to mention you even bought me a new frying pan."

"Yeah, just a little sidetracked s' all," Joel says, looking at the many different things he'd found for you.

"Thank you, Joel." You smile earnestly, "It's your turn now."

"Why don't ya model this for me, darlin'?" Joel asks, pushing the red babydoll dress towards you

"But what about your presents?" You pout, "I put a lot of thought into the one with the green paper."

"Give me a fashion show, it can be part of the gift." Joel coerces.

"Ugh, you're lucky you're hot, Joel." You huff, scooping the fabric up and heading off to the bathroom.

Joel lets out a long whistle as you reenter the living room, "Well, would you look at that?"

"Pervert." You scoff as he pulls you into his lap

"Not allowed to appreciate my girl?" He asks, pressing a kiss to your cheek

"You just wanted to see what my boobs looked like in red lace." You point out

Joel gives you a grin, busted.

"Nah, what makes you think that?"

Joel's lips capture yours and his hands secure themselves at your waist. Your resolve loosens as your hands curl against the soft skin of his chest.

"What about your presents?" You ask breathlessly when he pulls back

"Got everything I want right here." He says, "Let's go upstairs, this old man needs a bed if he's gonna fuck you silly."

Joel's hands are back on you the moment he kicks the bedroom door shut. His lips find yours again as his hands begin to pull the straps of your outfit off your shoulders.

Your back hits the mattress and one of Joel's big hands snakes down between your thighs.

"Still wet from last night." Joel laughs into the kiss

"Mmm, I think it was from earlier. Seeing you shirtless, cooking for me was hot." You admit

"Yeah? Y'like me cookin' for ya?" Joel asks

"Course, who wouldn't wanna see a hot old man cooking pancakes for them on Christmas?" You tease

Joel delivers a sharp slap to your inner thigh, "Not that old, darlin'."

"Sure you aren't."

You push at his shoulders and straddle him, loving the way his hands gently rest on your thighs.

You hum in delight as his hips lift and he pulls his pants off, finally exposing the rest of his body to your greedy eyes. Joel's lips ghost over your nipples, teasing them with his tongue as he lifts you up so he's notched at your entrance. Eager, you move to push him in but he stops you.

"What do ya say, baby?" Joel teases

"C'mon Joel..." You groan, "I want it."

"Ask nicely then," he clicks his tongue, "Go on,"

You huff a small breath of frustration and Joel's hands squeeze your hips.

"Please," You mumble

"What was that? This old man needs some help hearin' ya." Joel prods

"Please, fuck me, Joel." You groan, wiggling your hips as the head of his cock teases your hole.

"S' what I wanted to hear," Joel says, pressing a wet kiss to your neck

Joel's loud groan mingles with your girlish one as he lets you go to take him in. Your mind goes blank as your hips begin to rock. Joel's hands roam your body as he pinches and teases the sensitive flesh of your chest.

"C'mon girlie, give it to me." He encourages

"I'm trying." You huff, the feel of your burning thighs was slowing you down

A loud slap rings out followed by a yelp from your mouth. Joel's big hand rubs at the reddened mark on your soft skin.

"Don't worry, I gotcha, sweetheart, let me."

Your world turns as Joel lays you back down on the soft mattress, pushing your knees to your chest you're practically folded in half as he pushes in again.

"Fuck me..." Joel groans in pleasure above you.

"Already am." You laugh breathlessly

Joel shakes his head but you see the smile playing on his lips.

Rough thrusts steal your breath away as Joel begins moving his hips in earnest. The softness of his belly meets yours as he leans over you and presses his lips to yours. A hand pushes into the middle of your shared mess and a finger toys with your clit. A whimper escapes your lips as Joel groans when you tighten around him.

"Gonna let me come inside ya hmm? It'd be the perfect Christmas gift for me darlin'..."

Your brain is mush as Joel's finger plays with you while his cock relentlessly slams into you. Your stomach tightens as he continues.

"I-I'm gonna-"

"C'mon let it out, soak my fucking cock." Joel commands

As if he's magic your body yields to him and you come. A strangled groan leaves Joel's lips while your eyes slam shut.

"Good girl." Joel coos down at you, his hips never slowing.

"Joel!" You gasp, the pain of overstimulation beginning to ebb at your brain.

Joel lets out a soft moan of his own, his brow furred in concentration.

"Where?" He asks

"I-Inside" You gasp

Joel smirks, "Yeah? Gonna take it like a good girl? Let me knock ya up, pop out a brat for me in nine months?"

"Yes!" Your hips arch off the bed when his hand comes down to grind at your clit.

Joel's hips stutter against you and a loud moan escapes him as he fills you. Gentle thrusts follow as he comes down, dropping your legs as he does.

Joel flops down beside you on the bed, his chest heaves a bit as the two of you catch your breath.

"Y'okay?"

"Always." You say looking over at him with a dopey grin on your face

"Wanna go finish those pancakes?" Joel asks

You laugh, Joel was such a typical guy, thinking with his stomach, "You just fucked me and threatened to knock me up but your first thought is pancakes?"

"Well, I was gonna get a washcloth and clean ya up first, if that matters," Joel says

"Wow, what a gentleman." You scoff

"Glad you think so." Joel mumbles

You lay next to him in silence, listening to his breathing and watching his eyes flutter shut in satisfaction.

"What if we did?" You ask

"Did what?" Joel asks looking at you, "If you're talking about round two, I'll need a few more minutes, I'm not twenty anymore."

You slap his shoulder and roll onto your belly, "No, perv. I meant a baby. You were just talking about getting me pregnant."

Joel looks over at you like you've lost your mind, "Are you being serious right now?"

"Totally. You don't want a mini us running around?" You ask hopefully

"Course I do baby, didn't ever think a pretty young thing like you would want that with me though," Joel admits, pulling you towards him so you're resting partially on top of him

"Really Joel?" You scoff, "You're like the hottest guy in the world."

"Now you're just buttering me up." He laughs his head hitting the pillows behind him

"I'm serious!" You smile as he presses a gentle kiss to your lips

Soft silence flutters around you as you watch the gears turn in his mind.

"Gonna have to marry you if you start popping my kids out." Joel grins

"Of course," You laugh, "You think I'm gonna go into labor without a ring on my hand?"

Joel's nose brushes yours as he leans a bit closer to your face, practically breathing in your scent. His hand grasps yours where it rests on his chest.

"Guess I gotta start looking at jewelry then, darlin'. You're gonna have the prettiest ring in all of Texas."

"Ugh, there you go again, plotting to spend way too much money on me again." You groan in embarrassment.

Joel leans in and steals a kiss from you, the taste of pancakes and syrup lingers on his tongue as he does.

"Gotta humor me here," He smiles into the kiss, "Let me buy you presents, baby."

Consider this a mini-rant against the people behind the prices at Sephora. I'm looking at you Summer Fridays...

Want more Joel? Check out my series All Too Well.

#joel miller #the last of us #tlou #tommy miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #joel the last of us #tlou fanfiction #fanfic #joel tlou #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #romance #joel miller smut #Tommy miller

1K notes · View notes

lady-djarin · 4 months ago

Text

independent contractor

joel miller x f!reader (one shot)

fully inspired by this post

warnings/tags: no outbreak au, no sarah mentioned, but we can always pretend she’s at collage or something, infidelity by reader(reader’s hubby is an asshole), contractor!joel, age gap (late 20s/mid 50s) , masterbation (m), smelling of panties(?), sexting, oral (receiving), p in v (unprotected- don’t do that!!) general smut so children leave!! mdni 18+

word count: 6.1k

a/n: i understand not everyone is going to dig the infidelity thing so i get that, if you are not into that please just scroll on, thank you :)

* ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

It was a beautiful dress but damn if it wasn’t complicated, the back had all these complicated buttons and clasps to hold it closed. You had managed to get yourself into the thin fabric but just as you needed your husband to close the dress, he had conveniently disappeared. He had been dressed for the party for a while and had been running around the house trying to organize the vendors. It was all for some charity thing he was throwing through his company. He was the CEO of some big company that even after 5 years of marriage you still didn’t understand. Something to do with finance? Maybe.

“Hon? Are you up here?” You huffed as you realized he was not in ear shot. Your husband had a habit of doing this, leaving right when you needed him in favor of something he needed.

You can now admit to yourself that the marriage you were in was a little rushed. Ok, maybe more than rushed. You were engaged within three months of meeting and married in less than a year. The first year of marriage was amazing, he would shower you with gifts and trips and practically worshiped the ground you walk on. It now felt like he only did this to rope you in. He began to take multiple long ‘work trips’ every month and you soon found evidence of an affair (or multiple). Once, there was long hair all over his clothes that was definitely not his or yours along with red lipstick smudged on a white shirt. Was he not even trying to hide it or did he just not care?

You had always told yourself that ‘you’d never be with a cheater’ and you wouldn’t fall prey to men who used women. Well, after a quick marriage, that you begged your parents to go along with, you felt like you had nowhere else to go. Your parents would not be happy and would surely find a way to blame you, and all your friends were also his. So, you kept your head high as your husband did as he pleased. You were now a forgotten trophy on the shelf he felt didn’t need polishing anymore. So you did as you pleased, with his money. One of the things you liked spending his money on was renovations to the house that you were usually alone in.

Currently, you were renovating the other side of the house to become a library/craft area for yourself. The contractor was actually at the house doing a walk through before the party got started. He happened to hear you calling for your husband from down the hall and came to your rescue.

“Sorry to disturb you ma’am, I think he went downstairs,” he was looking down when he first walked in, probably to make sure you were decent. What a gentleman.

“Of course he did, uhg,” you fumbled with the clasps behind your back and failed to make a difference.

“I can go get ‘em for ya?”

“No that’s ok Joel, thank you,” Joel Miller, one half of Miller Construction. He had been so great from the beginning, knowing exactly what you wanted for the library, seeing your vision immediately. He was very much the southern Texan gentleman, ‘yes ma’am, no ma’am’, no matter how many times you told him you hated it. “and please, Joel. I’m not a ma’am.” Your smile drew his eyes up.

”My mama would kill me if she heard me call ya’ anythin’ but, ma’am,” he stepped into the room, already coming to help even with your refusal. “I’m more delicate than ya think, im sure i can handle some buttons,” he came up behind you in the mirror and his soft touch on your shoulder blade made you inhale. You held the dress against your chest making sure he had room to fasten the small clasps. You caught his gaze in the mirror that was fixated on the dip in the front of the dress.

He matched your smile.

His surprisingly nimble fingers secure every last fastening and it feels like you can hear your own heart beating out of your chest. It had been a long time since you were looked at the way Joel was looking at you. He was a handsome man, big and rugged but soft in his features. He had these deep brown eyes that you could get lost in and lips that would make a nun blush. He was affecting you in ways your husband hadn’t done in years, he was turning you on. A complete stranger was turning you on and you didn’t really feel guilty.

Did that make you a terrible person?

You know what, fuck it. Your husband cheated and left you alone in life, you were entitled to some flirting every now and then.

“There ya are darlin’,” dear lord, his voice. The deep southern drawl made your panties wet.

“Thank you… Joel.”

”Enjoy the party,” watching him walk away was the hardest thing all night, aside from having to laugh at all your husband’s bad jokes all night. All night your mind was occupied by the sexy contractor.

It had been about a week since the party and the library reno was well underway. Joel and his team, including the other half of Miller Construction, his brother Tommy, were working tirelessly. In that last week your husband had been in and out of the house at weird times. On this particular day he left early in the morning without saying so much as a word to you. You used the day to mope around on your phone or read but what kept stealing your attention was the attractive contractor.

His team wasn’t around so the house was truly empty, the quiet was starting to drive you mad. As you wandered up the winding staircase, you found a sweatshirt draped over the railing. That damn husband, he leaves shit everywhere. Without thinking much of it, you threw the hoodie on as you found the library under construction.

The sweatshirt smells like sawdust and something distinctly man. That's different from what your husband normally smells like. The thought of him buying new cologne for some mistress almost made your blood boil, if you truly loved him anymore it would.

The library was really starting to come together, the plans on the table laid out the new shelves and built in table being put in and you dreamed of the days you would spend in there. The rest of your day was spent inside, no husband in sight so you did what you wanted, camped out on the couch with snacks galore and bad tv. Your husband eventually came home, after midnight, to find you passed out on the couch. You were roused by him, he woke you to send you off to bed. He used to carry you.

“Hey, get to bed, it's late… New hoodie?” Your eyebrows narrowed and you looked at him confused.

“What? It’s yours?”

”No it's not, I don't work at ‘Miller Construction’…” his tone felt like sandpaper against your skin. Also, have you been wearing Joel’s sweatshirt this whole time?

You wore it almost every day. Refusing to even wash it, it would get rid of the smell. The smell of him. It was like a drug, anytime your husband left you alone in that big house you wrapped yourself in Joel.

The rumble of the engine told you someone was at the house, but the deep southern drawl was what told you it was Joel. You felt giddy, like a girl with her first crush. You were already wearing the sweatshirt because you were expecting him today. He was leading his team of guys up to the library, telling them what to get started on. You made your way up there, under the guise of greeting Joel and asking if they need anything. In reality you wanted to see his reaction to you wearing his clothes.

“Morning Joel, you guys need anything?”

His eyes nearly popped out of his head. He noticed right away, scanning the hoodie and his gaze set your skin on fire. You felt your cheeks heat up as he stepped closer, the air was thick with tension and you immediately felt the mood change. His lips curved up in the corner slightly as he lowered his voice.

He looked handsome as always, the salt and pepper in his beard and hair was somehow very attractive to you. He was older for sure but you’d be lying if you said that wasn’t part of the attraction.

“Nice sweatshirt you got there…,” you could practically feel his heart beating just inches from you. “Miller.”

You had to strangle down a breath hearing his voice drop an octave like that, teasing you. This was real… Joel Miller, your contractor, was flirting with you. And you liked it, a lot. Not only the blatantly wrong flirting but the fact that your husband could come home at any time. It was making your skin flush with arousal and it felt like he could sense it somehow.

“I can wash it and get it back to you,” you wanted to gauge how into this he was. He did not disappoint.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Jesus christ.

“Keep it sugar, looks better on ya anyway,” he left you there, finally with enough room to breathe without inhaling his intoxicating cologne. Holy shit, holy shit!

Your mind never strayed far from the older man, you seemed to fixate on the memory of him crowding you in your own home. The rest of the day went smoothly, you went about your business as the Miller Construction crew worked on your new library. You could hear the men working upstairs and every time you heard that one specific rumbling southern drawl your heart stopped for just a beat.

You were screwed.

Joel’s day could not have been longer, though he was the only one that noticed. The rest of the crew worked through the day, trying to get their tasks done sooner rather than later to be able to go home on time. Meanwhile, he was thinking about the pretty wife of the man who is paying him. He knew it was wrong but damn if it didn’t feel good. He saw the way your husband acted around you the last few weeks, he was engaged in every conversation except ones with you. Joel could even tell that the man was cheating, he clearly wasn’t trying to hide it. That’s really the only reason he was letting himself indulge with you, that and you seemed to be on the same page as him.

He knew he was in trouble, he had already memorized your features, your lips haunting him most of all. Every time you spoke he was entranced, unable to look away from your mouth. This was so wrong, he was working for you and your husband. He couldn’t help it, you were perfect, everything he could ever want. He dreamed about feeling you under him and that thought kept him half hard in his jeans all day.

By the time he was set to leave he felt like if he didn’t get himself taken care of he was going to explode. All he could think about was you in that damn hoodie, and how he would bend you over with it on. He knew it would smell like you now, it would smell like both of you. As he hopped into his truck he was so distracted that he didn’t see you coming down the driveway towards his car.

“Hey Joel…” Fuck. “I just wanted to get this back to you before I forget.” The gray fabric already smelled like you from where you held it by his car window. Why were you giving it back? He told you to keep it.

”Oh thanks darlin’,” it wasn’t lost on him how your eyes sparkled at this nickname. You were in the most delicious little shorts, showing just enough of the tops of your thighs as you walked back into the house. Fuck, he felt like such a dirty old man. You were so much younger and bright and kind. He felt like he could never deserve you.

He threw the hoodie on the passenger seat as he felt another surge of guilt and arousal settle into this stomach. Just as he was about to pull onto the street, he noticed something much darker than the hoodie sticking out of the pocket. He pulled it to reveal a pair of lacy black panties.

His heart nearly stopped. He would have never expected this, a sweet girl like you leaving her panties in her contractors sweatshirt. His jeans became even tighter than before as he pulled the panties up to his face.

He really was a dirty old man.

They had clearly been worn and it made his head spin, they smelled like heaven and you, he worried he might cum at the smell alone. He needed to get home.

As he raced home with your underwear gripped in his hand, he battled his thoughts. He knew it was wrong to mess around with a married woman but he felt different with you already. You were like the light at the end of his very lonely tunnel, no one ever looked at him the way you did. He practically tore his front door off the hinges as he rushed up to his bedroom. He felt like a teenager with an uncontrollable boner trying to find release.

The black lace was tight in his grip as he shucked his jeans off, the constricting fabric making his blood boil. He pulled himself free and the first touch to his hard length caused a gravely moan to slip from his lips. Tension and heat gathered in his stomach as he stroked himself. His fingers were rough as they circled his weeping tip but he needed to feel relief. He couldn’t even get himself into the shower, he just dropped onto the edge of his bed and never stopped moving his hand.

Those dark panties were teasing him, you were teasing him. You had to be, maybe you were making fun of his obvious crush. No, there was no way you would have grinned like you did if you didn’t feel the same way. It was an offering, a way for you to make a move without being apparent.

Holy shit. You wanted him.

That made his lower muscles spasm suddenly and his orgasm started to barrel down his spine. He pictured you in your small shorts earlier that day and he lost it. A deep groan escaped his throat as he spilled all over his knuckles. He pumped until he was oversensitive, his whole body reacting until he fell back into the bed.

All night his brain juggled wanting nothing but you and telling himself it was wrong. And it was wrong, at least on paper, of course he shouldn’t be messing with a client's wife. Even if she wanted him back.

Last time you saw Joel outside his car was almost a week ago. It was driving you crazy. You worried that he took it the wrong way or didn’t even see them. You couldn’t decide if you should be mortified, nervous, turned on or all the above. Then your phone went off.

Usually the texts between you and Joel were regarding what materials or paint you wanted. Now it was something totally different.

5:04PM >Joel: Sorry I have not been to check on the progress of the library personally. There was an emergency at another job.

>Joel: Also, thank you for my gift.

Only someone like Joel would thank you for sneaking him a pair of your panties.

5:09PM <You: im glad you liked them

<You: i was a little worried…

Your heart was thundering in your chest. Your husband was right across the couch, engrossed in his baseball game more than you, per usual. Was it wrong to like this so much, the fact that he had no idea you were texting another man right now, in front of him.

5:12PM >Joel: Why would you be worried? It's the best gift anyone’s ever given me.

>Joel: Any man should be so lucky.

Your pulse kicked up again somehow. He was making it all sound so meaningful. Maybe it was to him. Maybe he never took it the wrong way. Maybe he took it exactly the right way.

5:14PM <You: did you use them?

There was a pause for a few minutes.

5:20PM >Joel: Jesus…

>Joel: I’m at work, darlin.

5:22PM <You: so?

5:25PM >Joel: You got a mouth on you, huh?

5:26PM <You: and i know how to use it

5:28PM >Joel: We might just have to have you prove yourself then.

5:30PM <You: just tell me when

5:31PM >Joel: You are dangerous, angel.

>Joel: I have them in my pocket right now.

>Joel: I couldn’t help myself.

Jesus, this man was going to be the death of you. He was carrying your panties around in his pocket, while he was at work. Your thighs instantly squeezed together and it was at that moment you decided.

Fuck it, he made you feel good and your husband clearly didn’t care about your needs. You needed a divorce, and not just because of Joel. It was about you finally doing what’s good for you.

Suddenly an idea came to you, admititly a very bad idea but again, fuck it.

5:36PM <You: hey, do you have any plans tonight?

5:37PM >Joel: You know darlin, I don’t.

Thank god.

5:38PM <You: what’s your address?

5:38PM >Joel: 7 Oak Village Rd. I get home at 7.

5:38PM <You: see you then

You needed a plan. Your husband wouldn’t really care if you made last minute plans, you just needed a reason. Since he barely takes the time to pay attention to you, he definitely doesn’t know your friends very well.

“Hey, I know this is super random, but my friend Ashley”(totally a fake friend) “just got dumped, Isn’t that awful? She wants me to come over so she’s not alone. Would you care if I spent the night with her?”

It wasn’t really an odd thing, you spent the night with friends before. You should feel bad for lying so easily like this but the thrill of it all was keeping you going. You knew he wouldn’t object but he barely even looked at you. A quick glance back before he focused on the tv again as he waved you off.

”Yea, I don’t care… Johnny’s coming over anyway. Have fun.”

You shook your head and rolled your eyes, you knew you should be upset but you were too used to it at this point. You went upstairs to pack a bag and get ready. It had been a long time since a booty call and you forgot how giddy it made you feel. Knowing you were going to a man's house who actually wanted you there and actually wanted you.

Once you showered and finished packing, you went down to head out the garage. Apparently while you were upstairs Johnny and many more came over and had taken over the couch as they all debated over some play in the game. You tried to get your husband's attention, calling his name and waving at him. Anger boiled over in your gut. Just another reason not to feel guilty about tonight.

You loaded up into the car and pulled out of the massive driveway without a regret in your heart. This was the beginning of a new chapter and it felt right in so many ways. Your skin was buzzing with arousal, you had been thinking of Joel’s thick hands that would soon be on you, throughout your whole shower.

Before you left the neighborhood you sent Joel a quick text.

7:13PM <You: on my way

7:14PM >Joel: Can’t wait.

You felt the heat creep up into your cheeks and down your neck. Your nerves did start to wear on you though, all the usual stuff; Will he like me? Do I look nice? Did I miss a spot shaving my legs? You decided to wear a thin silk slip dress/nightgown under a baggy zip up hoodie. You figured it was a good way to look ‘sloppy’ enough that your husband wouldn’t care, if he even looked your way. You made the short drive over to Joel’s neighborhood and your nerves seemed to melt away as you got closer. It was odd, normally this kind of thing would send your pulse skyrocketing but the thought of seeing Joel made you calm, almost serene. He definitely made your head swim with giddy arousal though.

You found the beautiful house marked ‘No. 7’ and knocked on the perfectly painted door. Of course his house was gorgeous, he was a contractor. Only moments went by until the door was pulled open by that very sexy looking contractor. His brown curls were slightly messy on his head and he wore some kind of faded shirt and loose sweatpants that hung way too low. You couldn’t look away.

“Hi darlin’,” he rubbed his neck and his cheeks went red. He was nervous.

“Hi,” you couldn’t help the smile spreading on your face.

“Come in, here let me.” He gently took your bag from your shoulder and guided you to the couch where he had a bottle of wine and two glasses on the coffee table. The inside of his home was just as beautiful as the outside; the couch was large and comfortable, there was quiet music playing in the corner from an old school record player and books and plants littering the shelves. He came back and poured you both a glass and clinked the two together before you each took a long drink. He finally sat down and you turned so your feet were up against his leg, quickly feeling comfortable with him.

“I wasn’t sure if you would be ok… with me coming over.”

“Why?” God his southern accent was like honey.

“I don’t know, maybe it was…I was too forward.” You were sure why you felt the need to bring this up, maybe clear the air somehow. “I’m divorcing him, I can't do it anymore.” Saying it out loud made your heart lurch.

“I get it sweetheart, it ain’t fair that he treats ya’ that way.” You were leaning into each other at this point, unable to stop the magnetic pull between you. His arm was draped over the back of the couch, his hand near your shoulder. He started to entwine his finger in your hair, his big brown eyes danced over your face and it made you almost want to shy away from his gaze.

“You don’t think I'm a terrible person?” You looked into his eyes finally, wanting to know how he felt about you, how he felt about this.

His fingers left your hair as his thumb brushed over your lips. “Y’not a terrible anythin’ darlin’,” then he moved.

He was on you before you could take another breath. He slotted his lips over yours, his tongue sliding between them. He devoured you, stole the breath from your lungs. It was all consuming the way he kissed you, it felt like he was starved and you were all he wanted to consume. He sat back and pulled you with him, your legs wrapping around his hips leaving your core right in his lap. His hand cupped both cheeks as you pressed yourself fully to him, your hips grinding down into his. Your baggy sweatshirt was obstructing your skin from touching his, you needed more and the fabric was too warm.

You leaned back and you finally got a good look at his face as you pulled the zipper down. His lips were swollen and red and his eyes were almost all pupils. After ripping the bulky fabric off he finally moved his hands to the rest of you. He traced your arms down to where your hands laid on your thighs, he then lightly ran his fingers up your back over the thin fabric of your nightgown.

“You are so… fuck, you’re so gorgeous.” He sounded like he couldn’t catch his breath and yours caught in your throat. He pulled you into him again but it still wasn’t enough skin. As his soft lips worked over your pulse and his rough beard scratched at your neck you knew you needed more of him. You groaned as you pulled away again and tried to pull his shirt off yourself but he was just large enough to make it difficult. He smirked at you as he leaned forward to remove the shirt and your skin finally made contact with his.

You both groaned as you came together once again, finally able to feel his warm solid chest against yours. He explored your body again as your mouths did the same, he kissed down your neck, over your shoulders and between your breasts. The thin straps holding up the nightgown were quickly pulled down, revealing your chest to him. He lavished you and you felt the vibration of his groans as he licked the crevice between your breasts before closing his mouth around a peak and sucking. Your whole body arched into his, your fingers carding through his hair which made him groan deeper.

“Fuck— Joel,” your skin was on fire and you were lightheaded. You knew somewhere deep down you should feel bad or guilty but it was the furthest thing from your mind. He made you feel like you were floating, your soul somehow detached from your body.

He pulled back from you, just enough to catch his breath and look into your eyes. His hands however never stopped roaming your skin. His pupils were blown wide, almost none of the deep brown in his eyes were left now. He dipped his head and dove back into your skin, his lips attaching to your neck and it made you groan and your core clench.

He groaned into you and you felt it rumble through his chest. You felt like you were losing grip on reality, you couldn’t tell someone your own name if they asked. It was all worth it because you were lost in the pleasure of feeling him under you, but you needed more of him.

You dropped to the floor, the carpet soft under your knees. You tried to pull Joel’s pants down his hips, almost frantically as if you didn’t see all of him now you would die.

“Hol’on darlin’,” he kind of giggled as he slipped the fabric off his hips and he fell back onto the couch and looked down at you with his mouth hanging open in awe. You met his gaze before looking down at his hard length.

Fuck, he was big.

You lowered your mouth to him, teasing your lips over his silky skin. His breath caught in his chest. You ran your tongue up and his hand came up to hold the back of your head, not to force but support. Eventually his fingers grabbed into your hair when you wrapped your lips around him and pulled him in. You felt his rough moan reverberate into your body every time you dropped your head. It was difficult to take him all at once but you had to feel him, everywhere.

“Fuck, oh my—gooood…” he dropped his head back onto the couch but you knew he was watching you, his eyes never left you. You felt your arousal spread between your thighs knowing you were driving him mad. Before you even got a chance to really do much Joel pulled you up on your feet. He stayed seated and looked up at you through his lashes and your heart stopped for a second seeing him below you like this made your stomach dip and your panties wet.

His eyes were blazing a path over your body, nightgown bunched around your waist with your entire chest exposed. You should be cold but you felt like you were on fire. He ran his palms up the backside of your legs until he reached the lacy fabric of your underwear. His eyes never left yours as he slowly pulled the fabric off your hips and over your ass, his hands touching skin the whole way down and helped you step out of it. That swooping feeling settled into your stomach again as he slid his fingers back up the inside of your leg until he reached your hot center, eyes never leaving yours. You both moaned as he dipped into the slick that coated your skin.

“Mhmmm, this all f’me?” He looked at you with a mix of arrogance and pure desire as he moved his fingers in a slow circular motion. It was made easy by just how wet you were, you didn’t know if you had ever been this wet before. That’s the effect he had on you, or maybe this is just a primal kind of desire that you never had with your soon-to-be ex-husband.

Either way you were spiraling fast. You knew once you two came together you wouldn’t last long. You needed to feel him, it was driving you mad.

Joel seemed to be taking it slow, which you can admire as this is very new and he probably wanted to make sure you’re comfortable. While you admired him taking the time to make you comfortable you couldn’t wait anymore. As he kissed your chest and his fingers kept moving in agonizing circles across your sensitive bundle while you straddled his lap. His hard length rubbed against your center and both of your bodies shook with desire.

He groaned as he wasn’t expecting you to be on him so fast. His hands ran along every inch, taking you into him and never wanting to let go. You rocked your hips and slowly dragged your core across his length causing you both to stutter and moan. You were sick of waiting for the thing you had been thinking about non stop for weeks.

“Will you… make me feel good?” Your voice was squeaky and horse from all the moans and his eyes fluttered at your request.

“Oh darlin’… that bastard ain’t taking care of you huh? When’s the last time you were properly touched?”

You turned your eyes away from him, slightly embarrassed that he was able to tell that so easily. “Uhm… a while.” He gave you a pointed look, clearly not liking your non-answer. “A… a year,” his eyes widened at your admission. “Over a year…” You cringed at your final answer. You weren’t proud of the fact that it had been so long but you haven't been attracted to your husband in a long time.

”Oh… you poor thing,” he bracketed your cheeks with his large hands. “Don’t worry darlin’.”

Joel was losing composure quickly, he was ready to give you everything you deserved. His nimble fingers reached between your bodies and slid along your center, drawing a wanton moan from your chest. You ground your hips into his hand trying to create the friction he wasn’t giving you. He slowly spread your lips and ran his fingers gingerly over your clit causing your body to shake in his grasp.

“Hmm… y’all wet f’me?” His southern drawl was making his lust-drunk words slur together deliciously. The scruff of his mustache scratched at your neck but his lips and tongue soothed over the sensitive skin.

“Mmhmm… Joel— oh god please,” you sounded just as lost. Your voice cracked and your hips never stopped moving over his hand, desperate for attention.

“Don’t worry darlin’, I gotcha,” he quickly flipped you and your back hit the plush couch. A soft ‘oomf’ escaped your lips and Joel was mesmerized as you lay beneath him. “Oh look at’cha, you’re so pretty baby.”

His words were like hot honey, warm and sweet. You shifted under him and wrapped your fingers around his hard shaft and the groan that reverberated through his chest made your breath catch in your throat. You kept stroking him as his fingers found your wet center again, spreading your release over your puffy folds. As you wrapped your legs around his hips, you guided his crown to your core and felt the sweet stretch of him entering you slowly.

He paused for a few moments and looked like he was trying to center himself again before pushing his hips fully into yours and held himself there. A deep rumbling groan broke through his lips as he began to move, the stretch was making you nervous at first but you felt more and more comfortable as he kept moving. When he started to rub your neglected clit, a bolt of pleasure shot down your spine causing your back to arch and nails to dig into his arms.

“Such a good girl, baby… ngh— you-you feel so good,” his syrupy words made your head feel fuzzy and limbs heavy. His hips started to snap into yours at a harsher pace and his fingers spent up between you in tandem. Your orgasm was quickly approaching with his movements, faster than you expected. Was this the norm for people with healthy relationships and sex lives, real attraction? You couldn’t even finish the thought before Joel sped up his fingers and started to hammer into you. He was surrounding you, hovering over with those dark eyes and large shoulders. The smell of him alone was about to send you over the edge, he smelled like soap and a little like sawdust, all over man. His voice broke you out of your hazy state.

“You’re gonna— cum for me darlin’, I—I can’t hold on…much longer baby.” His voice was rough and demanding and almost like your body listened, you fell over the edge. The lewd moans and shouts of Joel’s name coming out of our mouth surprised you both. At feeling you cum around him, Joel lost all of his remaining control. He stilled inside you and you felt his muscles contract in his release.

“Oh fu—fuck! oh my… god,” he slumped against you and you welcomed his weight. You both settled into the couch as you rubbed your arms up and down his back. “I’m— I’m sorry darlin’, it's been a while. Normally I'd have… taken my time.”

He sounded almost nervous, it made you smile.

“Joel, stop. You have nothing to apologize for.”

”I’ll redeem myself next time.”

Next time? He wants there to be a next time!

You smiled to yourself and hummed at the content feeling of being under him while he still filled you.

You drifted to a place of half consciousness and woke up in, what you were pretty sure was the morning to the smell of bacon. You turned over in a bed, Joel's bed, to find it empty. You looked around the room and found it to be just like Joel, cozy and masculine. You located a shirt of his and threw it on before heading down the stairs to find a very sexy shirtless Joel standing in his kitchen, flipping pancakes.

“Mornin’ sleepy head,” his voice was thick with sleep and you walked up to him at the stove. With one large arm he pulled you into his side and kissed the top of your head. A slow smile spread on your lips at the familiarity of it all, the warmness of having someone to take care of you like this, emotionally. Something you almost never had with your husband, soon to be ex.

“Joel… thank you, for this.”

“What’cha mean darlin?”

“Taking care of me. Letting me come over last night.”

“Hey, look at me,” he tilted your chin up to meet his eyes. “Anytime you need me, I’m here.”

You tried to blink away the tears gathering on your lashes but one managed to slip, Joel’s thumb catching it before it reached your cheek. Time felt like it stopped as you leaned in to each other, lips pressing together as you moaned at the feeling.

The day was spent lazing in bed and talking about all the things you two would do when your divorce was finalized. The idea of divorce was the scariest thing in the world when you first thought about it, but now, knowing Joel would be with you every step of the way… you couldn’t wait.

#joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlou #pedro pascal #fanfic #lady djarin

1K notes · View notes

mallowsweetmiri · 5 months ago

Text

Remus Lupin x Potter!Reader

Part 2 • Part 3

Summary: the boys try to guess who Remus is seeing after finding a pink bow tied to one of his bookmarks

Warning: oral fem receiving

—————————————————————————

Remus couldn’t help but to fall in love with you. You’d always been sweet, always too pure for this world. When you were kids, he couldn’t help but want to protect you. It was in all the boys instincts to protect their best friend’s little sister. But as you got older, you and Remus began to spend time together without James. Your relationship truly started last summer at Potter Manor, when you and Remus started an unofficial book club when the boys would play quidditch for hours outside. You guys just had so much in common, and you were more comfortable being around Remus than any other boy besides James. So the two of you spent a lot of time in the library, reading books together and getting into heated debates about writing styles. It didn’t take long for his eyes to wander to your lips when you smiled at him, and it didn’t take long for you to notice. Before you knew it, the two of you were sneaking off to your room while the boys played quidditch, and locking the door behind you.

So that’s how Remus found himself with his face buried between your thighs in the middle of lunch hour. You’d been reading a novel with his head in your lap, innocently trying to finish your chapter before class. But Remus couldn’t constrain himself. He didn’t care if you had class in twenty minutes, you could go with your cunt pooling under your skirt.

“Remi,” you whined, pulling his hair into a fist. He hummed into your core, fingers massaging your thighs as you clenched around his head.

“Shh, be a good girl and let me finish,” he said hastily, before diving back into your folds. He let his tongue ruin you as you squirmed on his bed. Your shirt was bunched up now, buttons undone and tits pulled out of your bra. Remus chuckled as he thrust two fingers into you. He loved seeing you come undone. You were always perfect, also so innocent. It made Remus hard thinking about being your first, being the only one to make you come. He ground himself down into the mattress as he felt you begin to tighten up under his tongue. He almost told you to be quiet but his mouth was occupied. You shuddered and let out a whiny moan as you came onto his mouth. He grabbed onto your waist as he kissed your cunt and drank every drop you gave him. As you began to relax, he brought himself over you, littering you body with kisses.

“Rem,” you chuckled, “now you made yourself all worked up.” You grabbed hold of him under his pants. He was rock hard and it made your pussy throb just thinking about it inside you. He chuckled and kissed you.

“I’m saving it for you later. Wanna go on an adventure tonight?” Remus smirked, rubbing his thumb on your hip. You nodded eagerly. You wished you could just come to his dorm at night but it wasn’t exactly possible considering your brother slept three feet away from Remus.

“What time is it?” You asked, suddenly remembering you had class. Remus looked at his watch and sucked through his teeth.

“Uh, time for you to go love,” Remus chuckled as he watched you scramble out of his bed and fix your clothes.

“Remus! I told you I was going to be late, ” you scolded him, grabbing your bag and hurriedly putting your tie on. He only chuckled and gave you a kiss on the head as you ran out the door. He took his time getting ready for his class, which involved having a smoke until his dick got soft again. Remus spent the rest of the day in class thinking about you, daydreaming about how you would look tonight when he fucked you. Like a ghost wandering the castle halls, Remus brought himself back up to the dorm after his last class, immediately wanting to have another smoke. James and Sirius were already by the window when he came in.

“There he is Pads,” James chuckled, ashing his cig on the window sill, “go on and ask him.” Sirius’ brows were furrowed and he looked quite mad. Remus was confused until he saw your book in his hand.

“And what the fuck is this?” Sirius asked, shoving the book into Remus’ chest. Remus felt his heartbeat speed up. He was never one to enjoy lying.

“My book, you prat,” Remus quipped, nodding his head towards James to pass him a smoke. James looked thoroughly amused. Sirius let out a sarcastic laugh.

“Your book my ass! What is this then?” Sirius held up your bookmark decorated with a cute little pink bow, just like the one you wore in your hair. Remus was glad that James wasn’t the brightest because anyone who spent time with you knew you loved to tie your hair up with that exact shade of pink. Okay, maybe only Remus noticed, but he couldn’t help that you looked absolutely adorable with it.

“Erm, a bookmark,” Remus tried to play it off, focusing more on his smoke than looking either of the boys in the face. He’d been dreading James finding out, and wanted the right moment to do so. When you were ready to tell him.

“Yeah we can see that,” James laughed again, “but who’s the girl?”

Remus’ heart sank into his stomach. Fuck. James had her same smile, her eyes too. He couldn’t lie to his best friend, especially when it was his little sister he’d been fucking.

“I, um,” Remus choked on his words. Sirius squinted his eyes in scrutiny.

“I knew you’d been acting strange! All happy recently, I knew you had to have been getting some,” Sirius grumbled.

“No, no. It’s not like that,” Remus said quickly, unable to stop himself. It truly wasn’t like that, he was head over heels for you. You were so much more than a fuck to him, even if he did think about fucking you all day long. James eyes lit up.

“Moony, are you in love?” He clapped hands together and smiled, “why didn’t you tell us? Remus! Who is she?” James was positively beaming with excitement now, looking to Sirius who looked a mixture of confusion and suspicion.

“She doesn’t want anyone to know,” Remus cleared his throat, placing your book down on his bed. This was the truth at least. She didn’t want James knowing, mostly because she presumed he would be insanely controlling over their relationship. Remus wasn’t sure she would be wrong about that.

“But, we won’t tell anyone. We won’t, right Sirius?” James pleaded. Sirius rolled his eyes and nodded in agreement. Remus just chuckled uncomfortably and loosened his tie. He felt like he was choking in there.

“Sorry guys, I can’t break the ladies trust,” Remus turned away from the boys and started to change, effectively shutting down the conversation. Now, both Sirius and James were grumbling to themselves, unhappy with their lack of gossip. Remus let out a breath. That was the first time you two had slipped up. You’d have to be more careful.

“Well, if you seriously won’t tell us,” James sighed dramatically, “do you want to go get dinner?” Remus laughed and agreed, happy to spend time with the boys not thinking about his terribly kept secret. The three of them waltzed down to the great hall, making loud and obnoxious jokes at any opportunity they could find. Remus wasn’t quite sure how you and James were related sometimes, you seemed years older in maturity. Once they reached the Gryffindor table, the boys immediately sat out and began to grub. A few minutes in, James eyes lit up towards the entrance hall.

“Hi, Y/N,” James smiled and waved with food in his mouth. Remus heard you chuckle.

“Hi, Jamsie. You’re disgusting,” you stuck your tongue out at James as you passed by the boys. Remus turned around just enough to see your beautiful face and your perfect hair tied up with a pink bow. Shit. In the split second that Remus had before he turned to face James, he prayed to any and every god he could think of, hoping that James hadn’t noticed your bow. His reddening face and clenched jaw told Remus that he had, in fact, noticed. Sirius looked dumbstruck, shaking his head slowly at you as James stood up from the table.

“Y/N. Come here right now,” James growled, causing multiple heads at the table to turn. You stopped smiling and looked between James and Remus. Oh fuck.

#James potter #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #remus x you #remus x reader #remus smut #hp marauders #hp imagine #potter y/n #potter!reader #remus lupin smut #remus headcanon #hp marauders hc #hp headcanon #mallowsweetmiri

1K notes · View notes

ellecdc · 6 months ago

Note

Hi!! I’ve been reading your poly!marauders x femreader and was wondering if you could possibly write about the reader having a vision while being with only the marauders, and how they would react and help reader without Barty or Reggie being there to help her? Maybe the vision can be another cute moment with the boys and reader not wanting to tell them what she saw and trying to walk away but they stop her and eventually get it out of her? Also,I love how you write the characters and portray their relationships :) Thank you so much!!!

This ended up a bit angstier than you had requested? But I think our girlie-pop needs to work through some of her shit before we’re really leaning into the cutesy stuff so I hope this works for now! It’s not like I’ve already got the next part planned or anything…….. 👀😅

poly!marauders x seer!reader where they witness her first Sight alone

CW: fem!reader, angst? w/ a happy ending, hurt/comfort, reader still stubborn as all hell, boys still relentless as ever - but we’re getting somewhere folks!!

There was no sense in feeling agitated with the Marauders; you noticed a simmering resentment bubbling up within you whenever your mind began to stray towards them, but it could hardly be considered their fault.

Just one of the many consequences of the ability of Sight; gradual feelings forming over ideas and thoughts and imagines that aren’t real, haven’t happened, and may never happen. There was an undeniable soft appreciation - dammit, maybe even love - for the three boys growing in your heart, but it hurt.

It hurt because it was an outcome of experiences that they haven’t had, that they haven’t shared with you; it was simply feelings for versions of these boys that don’t even exist yet.

But it was becoming difficult to separate your Sights of them from them; it was becoming harder and harder to remind yourself that the love you were feeling wasn’t real, at least not yet.

Yet.

That was the worst part - yet - seeing as none of these supposedly sweet moments taking place between you and the boys have ever really taken place, save that one of your impromptu Hogsmead date.

And whatever agitation you felt only tripled when you heard their voices in the library and your face broke out in an involuntary smile.

Stupid lovesick girl.

“There’s our princess!” Sirius cheered loudly as he spotted you, earning him more than a few severe glares from surrounding tables as he sloppily (and loudly) plopped himself onto the bench at the table across from you.

“Do try not to get us kicked out when we’ve only just found her, yeah?” Remus muttered quietly, though he seemed no less pleased with his boyfriend despite his scolding.

Sirius made a dismissive scoffing sound as Remus took a seat beside him and James across from him (and, decidedly less importantly, beside you). “I’d like to see them try; my family paid for this sodding library.”

“Charming, Black.” You muttered as you kept your face pointed towards the notes in front of you.

From your periphery you could see Sirius flash you a salacious grin; all sharp canines and cocky attitude. “Thanks dolly; I think so too.”

“You’re exhausting.” You let out with a sigh.

“I have been told I’m ex-”

“-Exhilarating, we know.” James finished for Sirius, seemingly already knowing exactly what the boy was going to quip.

“See? Everyone agrees.”

“Feel free to ignore him.” Remus interjected then, looking at you softly.

So softly. In ways you’ve Seen him do many times but have never yet experienced.

It made you ache with want; wanting so badly for it to be real and then hating yourself for wanting it at all.

“You okay, dove?” He asked then; apparently seeing the conflict on your face.

And wasn’t that just the icing on the pastie.

“No, actually, I’m not.” You huffed as you began to pack up your things.

Sirius said your name then; all teasing and flippantness gone from his tone as he sat up straight. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“No.” You grumble; standing now but closing your eyes and pointing your face to the ceiling in frustration.

‘It’s not you, it’s me’ sits on the very tip of your tongue, threatening to spill out but you just can’t bring yourself to release the words.

You hate this feeling; the lack of control in the direction that your life was seemingly going, moving through the motions unwillingly as fate pulled on the strings of your soul like some poorly mistreated puppet.

“Don’t go.” James all but whispered then; his hand seemingly aching to reach for yours but clearly resisting the urge.

That only made you feel worse.

You let out a breath and started to lower yourself back to your seat on the bench when you recognized the familiar feeling of your consciousness being pulled elsewhere; the dreaded sensation of being submerged under cold water followed by the neurons firing in your brain as they were gently plucked from their existing pathways and ushered towards a new reality.

No, you begged hopelessly, not here, not now.

Your vision blurred through the tears that threatened to spill from them; placing your elbows on the table in front of you so roughly that it left your fingertips buzzing, you covered your face behind your hands and fought to steady your breathing.

“You’re okay, dove.” Remus whispered from across the table; his leg under the table creeping over to apply pressure to the inside of your calf. You were thankful for the grounding it provided.

“Can you look at me, sweetness?” Sirius asked quietly as James tried pulling gently at your arm.

You shook your head quickly and tried to say no, but all that came out of your mouth was a choked sob.

“Okay, that’s okay.” Sirius relented evenly as James moved his hand from your forearm to rest gently between your shoulder blades where it began making soothing swipes against your jumper. “You’re alright, yeah?”

All he got was another sob in response.

You felt James shift in his seat; legs straddled over the wooden bench so he was now facing you.

“C’mere angel.” He cooed at you, gently yet firmly encouraging you into his chest by a hand on your shoulder.

You melted into him.

“You’re alright; you’re just fine.” He said again.

You flinched slightly when you felt a gentle hand grip your ankle.

“Sorry, dovey.” Remus murmured softly, rubbing his thumb over your Achilles tendon apologetically before pressing it to a soft spot on the outside of your ankle.

“Come back to us, pretty girl.”

Your knees buckled beneath you as you nearly fell into your seat; two strong arms quickly caught you by your elbows before James carefully lowered you to the bench.

“Easy, doll.” Sirius coached calmly albeit worriedly from across the table as you heaved in a much needed breath. “Easy.”

You felt your sinuses swell as you took a few more breaths, realising belatedly that you had three boys that you were rather quite taken with staring at you in one of your most vulnerable states.

They already had so much of you - much more than they may ever know - you didn’t want to give them this, too.

“You’re okay, dove.” Remus whispered from across from you; his leg under the table creeping over to apply pressure to the inside of your calf. You were thankful for the grounding effect it provided.

“Can you look at me, sweetness?” Sirius asked quietly as James tried pulling gently at your arm.

You shook your head quickly and tried to say no, but all that came out of your mouth was a choked sob.

All he got was another sob in response.

You felt James shift in his seat; legs straddled over the wooden bench so he was now facing you.

“C’mere angel.” He cooed at you, gently yet firmly encouraging you into his chest by a hand on your shoulder.

You melted into him.

“You’re alright; you’re just fine.” He said again.

You flinched slightly when you felt a gentle hand grip your ankle.

“Sorry, dovey.” Remus murmured softly, rubbing his thumb over your Achilles tendon apologetically before pressing it to a soft spot on the outside of your ankle.

“Come back to us, pretty girl.” Sirius whispered.

“I’m sorry.” You admitted; voice pinched emotionally as you continued hiding behind your hands.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, lovely girl.” Remus assured you as James pressed a kiss to your hair. “Nothing at all.”

“I hate-” You paused around a pathetic hiccup as you finally deigned to pull your hands away from your now likely puffy and tear stained face. “I- I just-”

“You don’t have to explain.” Sirius offered at your next hiccup. “Just keep breathing.”

You realised only as Remus resumed moving his thumb back-and-forth against your ankle bone that he had paused to track your pulse much like he’d seen Regulus do that first day in the Great Hall.

A bitter taste filled your mouth when you thought of that Sight too; how much of your supposed ‘relationship’ with these boys would be of you breaking down in front of them?

“I hate seeing things that aren’t real; that haven’t happened, with versions of people who don’t even exist yet.”

James let out a sympathetic breath at your words as Remus’ brows furrowed forlornly.

“Do those versions not exist yet or have you just not given them a chance to?” Sirius asked you slowly.

You made a pained sound as you straightened from resting against James’ chest; you pretended not to notice the look of loss that crossed his face and ignored the same feeling aching within your chest.

“People can surprise you, y’know?” James offered then; hope colouring the vowels of his words as he spoke.

“I’m sure that, whoever they are,” Sirius started pointedly. “Would love the chance to be whoever you needed them to be.”

“That’s the problem.” You groaned, though you were sure they could tell that the fight was quickly oozing from your body with every swipe of Remus’ thumb or stroke of James’ hand against your shoulder blades. “I don’t need you to be anything.”

“So it was about us.” Sirius asserted; all caution vanished from his face and was quickly replaced with mirth.

You snorted incredulously at him and wiped roughly at your eyes as a reluctant smile spread across your face. “You are such a prat.”

“We could be your prats.” He quipped.

“Is that what you need, angel? Do you need some prats? Sirius and I are well versed; might need to coach Rem a bit but he’s a quick learner.”

“For Godric’s sake.” Remus sighed with a tired smile. “We’d been doing so well boys.”

“I hardly see how, seeing as you all made me cry.” You jeered as you pointed your nose in the air, causing all three boys to exclaim various objections.

“We’d only said hello.” James cried as Remus watched you stand and hike your bag over your shoulder thoughtfully.

“What was it that you Saw, then?” He asked; still smiling though his brows dipped challengingly.

You stared down at him for a few moments, though there was no need to search his eyes for clues; you suspected that he knew.

“This.” You admitted quietly.

A smile spread across Remus’ face; it was slow and pointed but you didn’t know quite what it meant. Yet.

“I’m glad I got to see it too.” He murmured with a smirk.

You tried to hide your blush as you left the library, fighting the urge to giggle like a schoolgirl the entire way back to your dorm.

1K notes · View notes

messenger-of-babel · 3 months ago

Text

Nightmares

Summary: The Wayne family calls you in When they can't snap Tim out of it. (Tim Drake x reader)

Word Count: 2.5K

Notes: Tim is my fav as Robin ❤️ Yes, I did read the Hush arc. People are oddly divided if Jason really did try to kill Tim which is an argument for a later day, but it'd still mess with anyone regardless so shhhhh. Enjoy xx

━━━━━━━━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It was hardly ever that you were contacted by the Wayne residence, so when you got a call one Friday evening, a cold ball began forming in your stomach. With a surprised stutter you responded that you were still at the Gotham University library, studying up for your finals. Before you even got a chance to ask what was going on, Alfred kindly let you know that he was going to be picking you up before the receiver went dead.

Unsure of what to do, you shifted from foot to foot outside of the library. The night was cold for Spring, the coattails of winter still wrapped around the city. As you fidget you try to think of any reason that they would be calling you. After all, you and Tim had only been dating for eight months or so. In those eight months you had visited the manor maybe twice, much less met his family. Tim had dragged you through the hallways as soon as you hit the foyer, hurrying you to his room so fast that you could only exchange a surprised glance with the members he passed. You could only think of the worst scenarios, minutes stretching for eternity as you trapped yourself inside your mind.

What if they hated you dating Tim? You weren't from an affluent family like they were, growing up in a poor area of Robinson Park. You got into Gotham U on a scholarship, which was how you both had met in the first place. What if they looked down upon that and were going to threaten you to break up with him? If they ever chose to, they certainly would have the power and sway to. Hell, they could chase you out of Gotham entirely and no one would be the wiser. You thought of all these ideas, just to distract yourself from the underlying thought that sat like an unwelcome visitor int he back of your mind.

The little thought that whispered over and over again, 'What if something has happened to Tim?'

The Wayne car rolling to a stop in front of you was enough to snap you out of your worrying, making the ball in your stomach only grow heavier. The visage of Pennyworth, the butler, appears from the driver’s side. He gives you a small, tight, smile and exits the car, opening the back as you descend the stairs.

"After you, dear."

You hesitantly poke your head in as he waves his hand politely to the open door, blood draining from your face. You had expected the car to be empty, but as you studied the shadows it was very clearly not the case. The sturdily built man in front of you had his arm propped up on the window, chin in his palm. His deep blue eyes glinted from the shadows he seemed to melt into, rough timbre floating your way. "Come in."

You anxiously shuffle into the seat, leaving a space between you and the enigmatic Bruce Wayne. There's a tense silence as Alfred gets into the driver’s side and starts the car, headed to the Manor once more. You shuffle in your seat, pulse thudding against your neck.

"It's nice to meet you." you say, clearing your throat awkwardly. The icy eyes of the billionaire flick to you, scanning you up and down.

"And same to you." he says smoothly, staring back out the window with a rich indifference. "I'm sure you know why we called you?"

"Actually, I don't sir." you say gently, fiddling with your fingers. They gave you nothing to work off of, how could they expect you to know what was happening?

"It's about Tim." he says, and your heart flips.

"Is he okay?" falls out before you can even temper your voice properly.

"He's…in a difficult space right now." Bruce hums back at you, worry creasing at the corner of his eyes. "He won't work with any of us, won't come out. We thought that maybe you could help. Actually, Dick recommended we call you."

Dick Grayson. The only brother you had met, albeit only briefly. He had been passing through for a charity event and had come to ask Tim a question, ducking his head inside the bedroom. Tim had gone to get snacks, leaving you to nervously explain who you were. When you mentioned that you were dating Tim, a wide smile had split the older man's face. He'd promptly introduced himself, stepping inside and shaking your hand. Tim had chased him out soon after he arrived back, the elder brother's laughing echoing down the halls long after Tim had shut and locked the door.

"Is it bad?" you whisper out, fists curling on your knees.

"He's alive and physically uninjured, if that's what you're asking. Now, what I'm about to tell you is confidential. You tell anyone, and I mean anyone," Bruce's eyes flash dangerously. "Then there will be severe consequences."

When you nod his shoulders drop slightly, and he uncoils. You had always been intimidated by the man and the sheer power he wielded, but you didn't take him for someone to be so fiercely protective. There was something in his eyes that flickered when he stared you down, a scarred over wound that re-opened at the thought of you harming his family.

"I promise." you say, rising to match Bruce's tone. "I just want to help Tim."

The answer settles the wary father next to you, relaxing back into his seat.

He fills you in, dread filling your stomach more and more. He explains how they've been a target of a terrorist attack, Tim getting caught in the crossfire. The story seems wild and something in the back of your mind gets the impression he isn't telling you everything, but you remind yourself that this is Gotham, and being a rich family paints a rather large target.

"Fear gas?" you whisper, eyebrows furrowed. "I thought Batman put the Scarecrow in Arkham."

Bruce bites his knuckles but nods. "Yeah, that is what I thought too. So, we're suspecting it's either a lackey of his, or the Bat isn't as thorough as he appears." he grunts, teeth relenting their assault so he can cross his arms. "Masked annoyance." he mutters, his nose crinkling.

"How can I help?" you ask, adrenaline rushing through your veins in a mild cocktail of panic.

"Talk to him. get him to come out. We've had a doctor look him over and he'll be fine, he got out of the gassed room in time. His mental is just a bit…fragile, right now. He won't accept comfort from us. Some of us can't even get close. So, we thought you might be able to try." Bruce studies you closely. "We want to deal with this before press come snooping. It'll only affect his social life if this gets out before he's had a chance to recover, so I must reiterate the importance of your silence. This is a family matter; we will deal with it as such."

you nod along, swallowing the lump in your throat. "Yes, sir."

"But do not take it to heart if my son doesn’t recognise you." he says firmly. "He isn't himself right now. This isn't a reflection on your or your relationship."

You want to ask about how much he knew about your relationship, but as you open your mouth you're cut off by the voice of Alfred. "We're here, sir."

The car rolls to a stop, and Alfred opens Bruce's door and then yours. The manor is imposing, but you don't get long to look at it before you're ushered away. You're walked to the door of Tim's bedroom; except this time your arm is being led by the sympathetic smile of Pennyworth. He leaves you in peace, and it's never felt more imposing knocking on your boyfriend's door than now.

"Tim?" you call softly, rapping your knuckles against the richly coloured wood. "Are you in there? Can I come in?"

There's no response, making worry knot up in your chest. "I'm coming in, okay?" you call out, hand hesitantly turning the brass knob and opening the door just enough so you can slip inside.

It's dark, only moonlight illuminating the scene before you. His bedsheets have been ripped from the mattress, pillows scattered around. Drawers were open haphazardly, contents spilled across the tiled floor. Your heart lurched spying the sheer curtains that fluttered in front of the open bay windows, worrying that he might have gone out there despite the drop. It calms slightly when you spy him, huddled under the desk. You approach as if regarding a cornered animal, concern twitching in your fingers. The desk was devoid of any objects, swiped clear by a frenzied arm. The drawers were open and empty, content spilled around him.

"Hey, Tim." you say, crouching to him under the desk. He looks a mess, face pressed tightly into his knees. He's curled into a ball, arms tucked under his torso, resting on the front of his thighs. "it's me." your murmur, reaching out gently. "it's just me."

He jumps as your fingers lightly brush against his arm, face snapping up. His eyes are puffy and red rimmed, cheeks stained with tears. His hair is tousled and messy, falling over the shaking of his blue irises. The sight pangs painfully in your heart, and when he no longer pulls away from your touch, your hand slowly circles his wrist. He leans into your touch, body trembling as you pull him towards you. When you manage to get him in a hug you can feel the rapid beating of his heart, the shaky and quickened breaths that he draws into his lungs.

"Please don't hurt me." he whispers, shattering your heart. You look at him wide eyed, gently tilting his face to meet yours.

"Why on earth would I do that?" you breathe out, confusion on your face. His eyes are watery and far away, lips trembling. "I'd never do that, Tim. you know that."

"Please don't leave." he chokes out. "Please. Please don't leave. I don't want to be alone. I don't want to be alone again, I'll work harder, I’ll be smarter, I'll do better." he reassures frantically, pupils shifting rapidly. "I'll do enough this time. I'll meet your expectations. Just don't go."

Your mouth drops and there's nothing that you can say for a few moments. "Oh, Tim…" you breathe out. "I'm not going anywhere, okay? absolutely nowhere." you murmur gently. "And you don't need to promise that. You do enough, hell, you do so much. You do so much more than meet expectations, Tim. You surpass them in every way."

he shakes his head at your comforting, hair flopping in front of his eyes.

"I saw them." he mumbles, although you aren’t sure if it is to himself or to you. "They were just here, I saw them.'

"Who?" you ask softly, stroking your thumbs over his cheeks.

"My parents." he mumbles back out. "I saw them. they were here. They said... They said things..."

You sigh.

Bruce had told you that the effect of the gas made people see things, vivid hallucinations conjured up to torture them. You just hadn't been able to comprehend how deep in someone's mind the fear gas was able to pull from. "And there was Jason." he chokes out. "I never meant to replace him, but he wouldn't listen, and then I felt it all over again." he stammers out, spare hand coming to trace along his throat softly. "But Jason turned into Damian, and then he pushed me and I was falling again. I'm not a real son, I'm not a real replacement I'm-"

"Stop." you command, unable to hold your own tears back at his words. You had no idea what he was saying. Jason and Damian hurting him? Tim complained lightly about his brothers at times, but he had equal amount of compliments to give them back (even if they were begrudging). It had to be the toxin messing with his mind, distorting the images he kept conjuring up.

"Tim, your brother's love you." you say. "Bruce loves you, Alfred loves you, I love you. So please," your whisper, hands holding his face. "Please, wake up, Timmie."

His pupils dilate rapidly as he peers up at you, and you can see him struggle to focus. "Please," you plead again softly. "Please come back. Trust me. You're safe."

Water spills over his lash line and his lips curl into a sob, but his body relaxes. He unfurls from the foetal position, absent rocking of his body coming to a slow halt.

"That's it," you breathe out. "Nice and easy, just take a deep breath."

When he relaxes enough for you to crawl under the desk with him, you do, his arms circling your waist as you pull his head forward to rest on your shoulder. He turns and buries his face in your neck, hot tears streaking down your skin as he sobs. "I couldn't dodge it in time…" he weakly says, hands shaking. "If I had dodged I wouldn't be seeing this. I'm supposed to be…I'm supposed to be faster than that…"

Your lips frown at the despair in his voice. From his tone it seems like he was slowly becoming more lucid, but you still had no idea what he was on about. With a few gentle encouragements you get his frantic murmuring to cease completely, fight draining out of him. You can feel the effects wearing off him as time passes, and you hate to imagine what the toxin must have done to him at full strength. You just run a comforting hand through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp and occasionally shushing him. When you tilt your head to kiss the top of his head, your eyes narrow in on the piece of paper that had fluttered from his lap.

It had been obscured when he was curled up, pressed to his chest. now that he had begun to relax it had slipped out, landing face up. It was a photo of you, taken in black and white. He had gotten a new camera for his birthday and wanted to try it out, so he brought it to the library the next time you both met up to study together. You were looking up at the camera, smiling softly as the light from the window filtered in behind you. Your eyes follow the curve of your grin to the way your eyes crinkle joyfully as you gaze in his direction. The corners are rolled and creased from the toying of his fingers, and you softly reach out to pick it up.

His arms tighten around you as you move to retrieve it, making you rub his back comfortingly. "I'm not going anywhere." you say softly, pulling the picture back towards you. "I promise," you whisper, looking at yourself in the photo he had been cradling so reverently before you came. "I'm not going anywhere, ever."

And you intended to keep that promise before anything like this happened again.

880 notes · View notes

deansbeer · 2 months ago

Text

a hunter's remedy ⎯⎯ DEAN WINCHESTER.

⎯⎯ trapped in a motel with dean, you find unexpected relief from restlessness through helpful distractions.

YAP SESH! i swear i have the worst dean brainrot ever. he js won't leave my head no matter what i do. also gonna watch supernatural tonight for spooktober<3

୨ৎ JENSEN'S LIBRARY.

you sat across from dean at the rickety motel table, your eyes occasionally flicking between the worn pages of john's journal and dean's focused expression. it had been hours since sam left for the library, promising to return with more information about the case, and the sun had long since dipped below the horizon.

your leg bounced restlessly under the table, a nervous habit you'd developed over years of hunting. the original plan had been to hit the local bar—a much-needed break from the constant research and hunting—but sam's extended absence had relegated you and dean to more case work.

"would you cut that out?" dean's gruff voice broke through the silence, his green eyes fixed on your fidgeting form. "you're making the whole table shake."

you mumbled an apology, trying to still your movements, but the restless energy continued to course through your body. your relationship with dean was... complicated. best friends who occasionally crossed lines that friends shouldn't, but neither of you ever complained about it. it worked for you both, somehow.

"i can't help it," you whined softly, shifting in your chair again. "we've been sitting here forever."

dean watched you for a moment, his tongue darting out to wet his lips — a gesture that shouldn't have affected you as much as it did. "come here," he ordered, his voice dropping an octave lower.

you hesitated, knowing exactly what that tone meant. "dean..."

"now," he demanded, pushing his chair back slightly from the table. "you clearly need help focusing, and i know exactly what'll help."

heat pooled in your lower belly as you stood, making your way around the table to where he sat. dean's hands found your hips instantly, guiding you to straddle his right thigh. you could feel the heat of his skin through your thin black leggings as they pressed against the rough denim of his jeans.

"there you go," he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. "now be a good girl and help yourself while i work. maybe this'll help with that restless energy of yours."

your breath hitched as he pulled sam's laptop closer, acting as if he hadn't just given you permission to get yourself off on his thigh. his free hand remained on your hip, encouraging you to move.

slowly, you began to rock against him, the friction of your leggings against his jeans creating the perfect pressure. dean continued scrolling through newspaper articles, but you could feel the tension in his body, the way his thigh flexed beneath you every so often.

"that's it," he praised quietly, his eyes still fixed on the screen. "just like that, sweetheart."

your movements became more desperate as the pleasure built, your hands gripping his shoulders for leverage. the material of his flannel bunched under your fingers as you ground down harder, the thin fabric of your leggings doing nothing to dull the sensation.

dean's grip on your hip tightened, guiding your movements when they became erratic. "focus," he reminded you, though his voice had grown hoarse. "sam could be back any minute. wouldn't want him walking in on his brother's best friend getting off on his thigh, would we?"

the thought should have made you stop, but instead, it sent a thrill through you. you buried your face in dean's neck, muffling your whimpers against his skin as you chased your release.

"fuck—dean," you breathed, your hips moving faster.

"i've got you," he assured, finally looking away from the laptop to watch your face. "come on, baby. let go for me."

your orgasm washed over you suddenly, your body trembling as dean held you steady. his free hand stroked your back soothingly as you came down from your high, your breathing gradually returning to normal.

"better?" he asked, a knowing smirk playing at his lips.

you nodded, still too blissed out to form words. dean pressed a quick kiss to your temple before gently nudging you to stand on shaky legs.

"good. now maybe we can get some work done before sammy gets back."

you returned to your seat, noticing how dean adjusted himself in his jeans when he thought you weren't looking. the restless energy was gone, replaced by a pleasant buzz that made focusing on the journal's pages much easier.

when sam finally returned an hour later, arms laden with books and local newspaper clippings, neither you nor dean mentioned how you'd passed the time waiting for him. but every time your leg started bouncing again that night, dean's knowing look across the table made heat rush to your cheeks, and you couldn't help but wonder if you'd need another "study break" before the night was through.

961 notes · View notes

always-coffee · 10 months ago

Text

WV Libraries Are Under Attack: How to Help

News came out yesterday that West Virginia House passed House Bill 4654. This would remove “bona fide schools, public libraries, and museums from the list of exemptions from criminal liability relating to distribution and display to a minor of obscene matter. …”

Potentially criminalizing librarians is bad, and it’s straight out of the fascist playbook. “Opponents of the bill said that while the bill does not ban books, the bill would have unintended consequences for public and school libraries, resulting in increases in challenges to even classic books and attempts to criminally charge librarians over books not pornographic in nature, but books that include descriptions of sex. They also said it could result in improper criminal charges against library staff,” Steven Allen Adams writes.

So, the question is: now what? What do we do? Where do we go from here?

If you live in West Virginia, call you state senate reps. You can find them listed here.

It’s okay to keep your message short:

“Hi, I’m [full name] calling from [ZIP code], and I’m a constituent of [Senator Name]. I am calling to voice my opposition to Bill 4654, because this is a dangerous step toward book banning. It could potentially harm librarians and libraries, which is incredibly wrong. Do not back this dangerous bill.

You can also ask how many people have called to voice their opposition to this bill. This may annoy the person on the phone, but they technically have to answer you. They may be evasive anyway. But you can either give them your contact information and tell them you’d like a call back or you can call back again later and ask for the tally.

The thing is, people rarely call in. A handful of calls is considered a lot, and the best thing you can do right now is make yourself a nuisance. Good trouble, etc.

Only call if you live in West Virginia, because they do not count calls from those outside their constituency. I am obviously not an expert, but if you have additional questions, ask them and I’ll try to help. I learned way more about how politics work during the last presidency than I thought humanly possible.

Additional resources:

#libraries #librarians #book bans #civic duty #speak up #west virginia

2K notes · View notes

honey-pages · 25 days ago

Text

Weaker - Viktor X Reader (Study Date Part 2)

This is part 2 to Study Date - as requested and crossposted to Ao3.

Description -

Viktor takes you to the lab, and then takes you in the lab.

1.8k words

Part 3

F/M. 18+. Smut. Pussy Eating, Sex , Dirty Talk, Semi-Public.

The colours of the books in the library seemed much more vivid as you moved to stand. You could not help but be both intimidated by Viktor and irresistibly drawn to him. The events of what just happened were written in blaring red pen across your thoughts and you wobbled a little as you stood up.

“Careful now, we cannot have you passing out before you even get to the lab” Viktor smiled, steadying you with his hand.

You returned the expression. Even looking at him, knowing what you had just been reduced to, was difficult. You felt as though your face was betraying your memories and that if you were to continue, soon the whole library would be alerted to the complete arousal you were drugged by. Almost as if some imaginary announcer would come over the loudspeaker and announce to everyone the slight noises Viktor’s hand made as he-

“(Y/N)? are you okay? You look a little pale; did I take things too far?” He whispered.

“No!” You reply, a little too quickly and sharply, “No, not at all. You have just made me so weak”.

“Weak in a good way?” He asks.

“Yes, definitely in the good way”, you clarify.

He appears happy with this, collecting his things into a bag, and placing the unnecessary extra books back on the return rack. Viktor is the only person you know who is both bold enough to finger you in the library, but also caring enough to double check with you afterwards that it was okay to finger you in the library. You chuckle to yourself. You would never have guessed he was so- out there. Or maybe you would, you had often fantasised about him doing similar things, but you would never have thought that they would leave the confines of your imagination.

The walk to the lab from the library was not too far. There was a passageway that fed between both, and this was the path Viktor took you down. You chatted as you walked. There was no awkwardness, he was as smooth as ever. Any visual signs of stiffness were hidden by his cool outward kindness and personality.

“I mentioned to you earlier about my project. Ill happily show you what I am working on if you are interested.” He suggested

“I’d love to see; it is some kind of robot if I am correct?” You reply.

“Me and Jayce are putting together some concepts to form a sort of robot - yes. Though there are a few other more… personal things, I’m working on.”

You wondered what this could be as you approached the lab. Passing through the large outer door, the lab was cold but intimate. To the centre was a large diamond like window, open fully, a thick breeze washing through. You had only visited this place in passing, bringing about notes and paperwork and strange little contraptions. It wasn’t a place that was widely accessible as it was usually kept just for Viktor and Jayce. It felt quite alien to be here, like you had walked into some mysterious world in which you were a little out of your depth.

“Water?” Viktor calls to you.

“Oh, yeah! Thank you!” You reply.

He fills you a glass from the water station labelled “DRINKING WATER- NOT COOLING FLUID.”

“We had an incident a while back” Viktor references the sign, “Jayce was a little chilly for a few days.”

You laugh, it was easy to imagine. Viktor props himself against the edge of the main table and hands you the glass, watching as you drink most of the water. You hadn't realised just how thirsty you felt.

“Better?” He suggests.

“Much”

“It’s a good idea to keep your fluids up, considering how much you lost earlier” He grins.

You suddenly cannot drink more water. You flush red, but play it off coolly, sitting on the edge of the table not far from him and placing down the glass.

“It’s also a good idea to keep your fluids up considering how much more you are about to lose.” He adds.

Viktor closes the gap between the two of you, standing in front of you between your knees. Even with you sat down, he stands face to face.

“Do you know how long I have wanted to do what I have done to you today?” He asks, “For months I have watched you. I have sat next to you, hard and aching, waiting for the right time, for when I felt right touching you. I need to taste you.”

Your stomach is in knots once more, the wetness from not too long ago is now feeling extra sensitive as you begin to pulsate. Him confessing his need for you fills you with unexpected courage. You place your hands on his back and pull him in gently, closer. You press your hips against his, the table height aligning them both. You angle your face upwards, and lightly plant a kiss against his lips. He accepts and deepens it, testing the waters with the tip of his tongue, enveloping you and drawing you in until both tongues are dancing and passionate.

His hands are wandering as you feel his weight against you, they find first the edge of you face as he holds it, then your hair, following down to your shoulders, round to your breasts. He applies pressure; hands of a scientist feeling and curiously undoing, testing and taking apart. He gropes at you harder, and you feel him, firm and straining against his clothes.

He begins to undo your shirt, slowly removing it and sliding it off your body, at the feel of you in a bra he breaks the kiss, looking down in admiration at you before him.

“Ah, Miss (Y/N), you’re perfect.”

You catch his eyes as they gaze back up at your face, you hold them there, not removing your stare as you reach forward for his zip.

He grins, a laugh escaping, “Oh no, I have waited too long to touch you to be hindered by my own cock.”

He pulls away rapidly, searching around the room. He finds his chair, pulling at it until the wheels oblige and it drags in between your knees. He sits down, head level with your hips.

“I am adamant Miss (Y/N) that I taste you.”

He places a flat hand against your chest, pushing you down gently until you lay flat on his desk. When in this position, you can see up and into the sky through the other looking large window.

“Viktor, the window is open” You feign complaint.

“You were quiet enough in the library, I am sure you can behave for me again.”

His hands raise your hips, sliding down your clothes and underwear, leaving you almost bare in front of him. Your legs are closed instinctively, and he reclines back in his chair enjoying his view.

“You are hiding from me, (Y/N). Spread your legs for me. I want to see all of you.”

You hesitate out of nervousness but widen them for him. You watch the clouds in anticipation. The chair creeks and the wheels squeak. Viktor slides the flat of his tongue directly up the centre of you, gathering up your earlier wetness and sweeping it over your clit. He wraps both arms around each for your thighs and holds you down tight as he demolishes you.

You cry out loudly at the surprise of it, but he doesn’t stop. In fact, he increases his speed and pressure, curling and flicking his tongue around your clit desperately. You grab onto wood of the table to keep yourself from shaking.

“Oh God, Viktor- “

If he replies, it is buried deep inside of you as he continues to work, his whole face wet.

“I have changed my mind. I don’t want you to behave for me. I want to hear you; I want to know what I do to you. Let Piltover know.”

“Viktor!’

He replaces his tongue with an addition of two of his fingers. He tests you carefully when inserting to ensure you slide open for him and he meets no resistance. He rhythmically pushes his fingers inside of you, working you up and then crashing his palm against your clit. He sometimes breaks rhythm to rub you with his open palm. He utilises the whole of his hand when his tongue is not busy.

“Viktor, I need you. “You cry out.

“I’m sorry, I can hear you over the sounds of my hands.”

Louder this time, you moan, “Viktor please, I want you to fuck me.”

The outside world is somehow quieter, but you are not very aware of your surroundings, a blurring realisation sweeps over you that you do not care. All you need is Viktor. Viktor is restraining himself from releasing his cock and taking you. He is twitching and sensitive and very aware of just how easy it would be to give into his urges and fuck you into the table. He wants to focus on your pleasure. He adds another finger. Your moans are too much for him, you are too much for him. You weaken him and suddenly he is inappropriately touching you in the library, you always make him come undone. He debates whether to give you what you want.

“Viktor, please- “

With his face buried, he undoes his belt, buttons and zip, freeing himself. You are unaware of this as your vision is still fixed on your view of the labs window.

“Please what?” He asks in amusement.

“Please- “

As you say the words, he pre-emptively enters you, catching the words in your throat. You shout out loudly. You may hear mutterings from the street below, but you aren’t sure. Viktor makes an ungodly noise as he enters you, almost falling over the edge himself. His hands are now fixed in fists on either side of your waist as he pounds into you against the table.

He feels the pressure building. He needed this, needed you. He fixates on the way you look underneath him, splayed out on his desk all for him. He watches the open window, the people walking by below. If they were to look up, they would see him. You grip him, the sides of you holding him tightly, pulling him in, contracting against his length.

Viktor is about to make you undone. With each thrust the feeling doubles and you feel tighter than previously as your body works up to its release. You try to warn him but the only sounds escaping you are unintelligible.

A sudden hard thrust sends you over and you cry out. “Viktor, I- Im- “.

Viktor knows. He has felt the clench of you around him and feels you grip him tighter than before, pulsating and spasming. This is enough and he can’t control himself. He pushes deep inside and fills you.

“(Y/N)- “

Words seem to have escaped the both of you. Breathless, panting and messy, you cling to each other.

Viktor stays inside you for a little while after as he begins to soften. Seeing you filled with him, so vulnerable and bare, it rewires an emotional response. Something in him changes and softens more for you than it already was. He holds you for a long time and does not let go.

#viktor x you #viktor x reader #viktor smut #viktor lol #viktor league of legends #viktor arcane #request #smut #arcane

883 notes · View notes

rinhaler · 6 months ago

Note

I’m begging you to write a bimbo x Toji fanfic

IM ON MY KNEES PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE IM BEGGING YOU🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️

Been in a BJ mood so enjoy some 69ing xoxo

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, bimbo!reader, pet names (princess, sweetheart, baby), daddy kink, spanking, 69ing, messy blowjob + pussy eating (duh), head pushing, praise, dumbification, degradation, age gap, exhibitionism ig?

words: 2.1k

“He’s not here, sweetheart.”

The bass of his voice rattles throughout your nervous system. And before you know it, you’re squeezing your thighs together and biting your lip as you look up at him, the way he almost entirely fills the space between the door frame. A slow smirk beginning to play on his lips as he watches you.

You’ve had a crush on your best friends dad since the first time he brought you over to hang out. He didn’t seem particularly interested in you, at first. Not until your skirts got shorter and your tops became skimpier.

“We had plans…” you pout a little, glossy lips shimmering in the afternoon sun. He clears his throat, adjusting his stance a little as he continues to look down at you.

“Oh yeah?” he asks, a little more curtly than intended. “And what plans were those?”

“Mm,” you hum, flicking through your texts to pull up your thread with Megumi. “Wanna hang out on Thursday? I can get us some booze and we can relax around the pool. My dad will be at wor— wait, you’re not at work?”

“Because it’s Monday, baby. Not Thursday.” he laughs a little as he shows you the date on his own phone. “Got a little confused there, huh? He’s at the library with the pink haired one, he ain’t here.”

“Oh…” you pout again. “’m sorry. I guess I should be studying too, I’ll go meet him there. See ya later Mister Fushiguroooo~!” you smile before beginning to skip away.

“Hey,” he calls after you. A grin quickly spreads across your face before you turn to face him again. He kisses his teeth, looking you up and down slower and more purposefully than ever before. He curls his finger, prompting you to come closer. “You’re all dressed for the beach, not the library. You can come in ‘n wait for him here, baby. You even brought your li’l swimsuit in your bag, huh? Come on.” he tilts his head as he walks inside.

You follow him hurriedly, closing the door after yourself when you enter. He doesn’t wait around for you, jogging up the stairs and shutting the door loudly after himself. You huff, wondering what the point of coming inside was if you’re just gonna be waiting by yourself anyway.

It doesn’t deter you, though. You dip into the downstairs bathroom and change into your swimsuit, sauntering outside to set up a lounger so you can at least catch a few rays before Megumi gets back.

You lay back, immediately feeling your skin heat up as the sun burns down onto your still body. There’s a lack of breeze, and the warmth soon becomes suffocating.

But soon enough, the sun disappears. Your eyebrows scrunch at the sudden change, your body plunged into shade and your temperature drops. You open your eyes, your best friends obscenely large father blocking out the ball of fire as he stands above you.

“Here, keep hydrated.” he orders, putting down a fruity looking cocktail filled to the brim with ice by your side. His white, open shirt begins to billow from a brief gust of wind, and he takes his seat with his own drink on the lounger beside yours.

He wasn’t avoiding you after all, he was getting changed.

You lean over, taking a small sip of the cocktail by your side. “Oh shit, that’s so yummy. Did you make it?”

He smirks again, but keeps his eyes closed as he lays back under the shade of his parasol. “Nah, the butler did it.”

“Really?” you ask, excitedly.

He can’t help but laugh at your naivety, turning his head to look at you. “No, sweetheart. Have you ever seen a butler around here? Course I made it.” he tells you, drinking in your bewildered expression as how gullible you are begins to dawn on you. “You ain’t too bright, are ya?”

“That’s—” you speak instantly, but put your drink back down to soak up the sun once more. “Mean.”

“Awe, sorry darlin’,” he smiles at you, but you don’t see it. “At least you’re pretty.”

He angles his head to face the sun, while yours snaps to look at him. You can’t hide your wide, cheesy smile as the words race through your mind.

At least you’re pretty.

At least you’re—

“You think I’m pretty?” you blurt out, though you feel no shame as the words leave your mouth. It’s the best thing you’ve ever heard another human being say to you in your life. Megumi’s hot dad thinks you’re pretty.

“You’re not that dumb, are you?” he faces you, finally, running his tongue along his top row of teeth. “You’re a gorgeous little thing, that’s for sure. Gonna give an old man like me the wrong idea, walkin’ around in a skimpy swimsuit like that.”

“The wrong idea?” you tilt your head at him. “I dunno what you mean, Mister Fushiguro.”

“Mmm, I betch’a don’t. I love li’l airheads like you.” he sneers. “Or maybe you know exactly what I mean, ‘n you’re just pretending to be dumb.”

You pout again as you think about what he’s saying. He watches you as you try and understand his words, the notion of pretending to be anything utterly perplexing you. He doesn’t take his eyes off you, though he’s a little surprised to see you roll onto your side so you can look at him properly.

“… Are you flirting with me?” you wonder.

“Hah,” he snickers. “You’re really tryna get me in trouble, huh? Would ya like that?”

“… uh-huh…” you nod slowly, biting your lip again. You watch as he smirks at you, adrenaline running through your veins as you wonder where this is heading. Is he simply teasing you?

“Have you got a li’l crush on me, sweetheart? That’s real bad. Remember who I am? Your best friends old man.”

“You’re not an old man,” you try to assure him. But he can only laugh at your idiocy once more. “Had a crush on you forever…” you admit, getting up from your lounger and walking over to his. You decide to take the risk, moving each of your legs on either side of him before slowly lowering yourself.

He bites his own lip, aged scar pulling deliciously as he smooths his hands over the curves of your waist. A grunt rumbles through his throat as you barely move, lightly humping against his stiffening cock.

And in an instant, your bikini is soaked.

You rut your hips more, and more, until he holds you still.

“Wanna fuck.” you whimper, and he starts to tut.

“Mmm, me too. Maybe next time.” he thinks, cock flexing as he imagines the feeling of your tight walls wrapping around him so perfectly. “Wan’ you to put that empty head of yours to good use.” he tells you.

A dazed expression decorates your face as you try and decode what he means. But instead of leaving you confused, he carefully pushes you away from his growing bulge so he can pull out his leaking length.

“Go on, princess. Suck me off.” he tells you.

You’re too astonished by the sight of his cock to even move. A beautiful thickness with a gorgeous curve you can only use as a fantasy for future reference as you imagine it hitting and stretching every spot inside.

He’s amazed that you don’t need to be told twice, however, you soon position yourself to take his length into your salivating mouth. You look up at him with wide, wet eyes as you kiss and suck his tip. Only looking away to spit into your hand, using it to jerk him off whilst you continue to suck like your life depends on it.

He can’t take his eyes off you, even taken aback as you further pull down his beach shorts to free his balls. He’s besotted at the sight of you, completely and wholly lovestruck as you produce enough saliva to completely soak his length, spittle dripping and sliding as it drenches his cock and balls. He winces as you cup them, licking up and down his cock before you suck one into your mouth.

All the while, your eyes are on him. Never before has he felt embarrassed whilst receiving head. But right now, he feels entirely at your mercy. He holds your gaze, though, intent on overriding the feelings of embarrassment as you turn him into a grunting and groaning puddle.

“Fuuuuuck, sweetheart,” he grins, chest heaving as you don’t let up on him. Your fist becomes a blur, and even still, he can’t stop himself from thrusting into your grip. “Pretty little girl… look s’cute with your mouth full’a my cock.”

You moan, at that. The praise overwhelming you enough to release one of his balls from your mouth before you go back to sucking him off. You take him deeper and deeper, as deep as you can take him without showing any signs of gagging.

“Such a good cocksucker for me, baby,” he tells you as he starts to push your head down on him. “Knew that an airhead like you would be a fucking pro.”

“G-Got such a big dick, daddy.” you tell him as you push off of him, desperate to tell him. He drags you up closer to him, kissing you sloppily as your body presses into his. You lie comfortably in his embrace in the shaded spot, moaning into his mouth as you grind down on his cock. “P-Please fuck me.”

“Oh, princess… does your little cunt need daddy’s attention?” he wonders, kissing you again. “Told ya, I want my cock sucked.” he slaps your ass. “Move, go on.” he orders, though despite his instruction, he begins to manhandle you.

You’re soon positioned so you’re practically sitting on his face while his throbbing cock is back in yours. He moves the material of your bikini into the crease of your thigh and gives your pussy a light spank.

“Don’t stare at it, sweetheart. Suck my cock, now.”

You immediately do as you’re told, taking him down your throat while he teases you enough to have you trembling. Touching anywhere and everywhere except where you need him most. Until finally, he places a delicate kiss between your sodden folds.

“Baby, she’s drooling. You really do have a crush on me.” he chuckles. He wastes no more time, after that, burying his face between your thighs and slurping up your lewdness. He moans into your folds before he shoves two fingers into your clenching hole.

His cock falls from between your lips, then, and you moan loud enough for the entire neighbourhood to hear you. He slaps your ass again, and it’s hard. “Shut up.” he warns. “I won’t let you cum if you do that again.”

The warning is enough to make you focus yourself on his pleasure. His mouth is making your toes curl and your head become emptier than even he thought possible. Tears begin to flow from your eyes as you do all you can to prioritise him and keep your moans to yourself.

Your throat tightens and constricts the more you withhold. You can’t control it fully, still humming around him. It’s somewhat calculated, yes. But the thought of being caught or ratted out to Megumi is making him a little more cautious. Then again, if he really didn’t wanna be caught, he wouldn’t be fucking his sons best friend in the backyard.

He pulls away, still curling his fingers into your g-spot as his face shimmers from your sticky folds. “Can’t believe you called me daddy you little slut,” he spanks you. “That’s right, isn’t it baby? You’re daddy’s dumb little slut.”

“Mhmm!” you mewl. “Mmm, mmm, mmm~!” you whine as you begin to unfurl. Your cunt squeezes hard enough to almost break his fingers, though it doesn’t deter him from devouring you whole. He begins to thrust up into your mouth, and he shoots ribbon after ribbon of hot white cum between your drool soaked lips.

Neither of you move, both exhausted from the overwhelming release.

“Wh— Did that just… happen?” you ask, breathlessly.

“Sure did,” he laughs, slapping your ass as he does. “You need to give me your number, baby. I gotta be able to text you when Megumi ain’t home.”

“Hm…” you consider it. “Why would I come over again when Megumi isn’t here?”

“God, princess, you really can’t think why? Daddy wants to be able to split your pussy open on his cock whenever he wants. Don’t want Megumi home for that, do ya baby?”

“N-No…” you sigh dreamily, closing your eyes as you finally move to lie comfortably beside him. “You better fuck me next time!”

“Next time?” he grins. “Megs won’t be home for a few hours. I’ll fuck you in a few minutes, sweetheart.”

1K notes · View notes