#Hot truck beer
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midnight-star-world · 1 year ago
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#CountryMusic
Jake Owen - Loose Cannon
So today on the MSR (Midnight Star Review), I would like to talk about the latest album from Country Music Singer Jake Owen. This new album is titled "Loose cannon" and was originally released digitally on June 23rd, 2023, and a physical copy was available on Friday October 21st, 2023. But before we dive into the new 16 track album, let's talk about the career of Jake for a little bit before.
Jake has had big hits with songs like "Down to the Honkytonk", "Made for you", & "Anywhere with you. Jake also had songs like "Barefoot blue jean night", "Beachin'", & "American Country love song. Jake has scored 4 number ones on my weekly list MSR (Midnight Star Report). My MSR combines both CMT (Country Music Television), the Billboard Country Music Airplay Charts, & even myself. The list used to include GAC (Great American Country) until the list officially retired at the end of 2018. Now back to the new project up next.
The current single is "On the boat again", and other songs you should check out are "Go getter", & "Hearts and habits is a stand out track in my opinion. Also check out songs like "When it all shakes out", "Hopeless", & "It don't, he won't and you do". He pays tribute to the Andy Griffith show intro with "Nothing". More songs you should listen to are "Somewhere south with rum", "The ending", & the title track "Loose cannon". Jake had co-writting help from Willie Nelson, Walker Hayes, Devin Dawson, & Jordan Davis. Let's see the rest of the track list now.
Track list.
Hot truck beer.
Go getter.
Solo solo.
On the boat again.
Hearts and habits.
When it all shakes out.
Hope less.
It don't, He won't and you do.
Friends don't let friends.
Boy in the Chevrolet.
Shrank.
Nothing.
Somewhere south with Rum.
The ending.
Hey can I buy a beer.
Loose cannon.
And that's a wrap for the track list. And on the MSR (Midnight Star Review), I would give this new album a 4.5 out of 5 stars. I am not a fan of the digital albums, so with Jake deciding to make a CD that didn't have to get digitally. Another well-rounded album from Jake with a lot of songs that I had to highlight. Thanks for taking the time to read this review. See ya all next time.
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parme-san · 10 months ago
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crazy how the 'this song is so mysognistic and fire' youtube comment permanently cemented itself into my mind but i cant just reference my own screenshot of somebody's youtube comment and expect people to get it
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ares857 · 2 months ago
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internet finds
If you want this project to continue, you can use the Paypal donation button on the web page of the blog. Any donation is welcome.
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bumblebeerror · 1 year ago
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I want you to know so bad that we actually play Sweet Home Alabama at weddings, proms, any event and people get fuckin jiggy with it alright we got drunk people making line dancing packs and everything when that comes on
Honestly this delights me SO much it’s a GOOD ASS SONG and I’m glad SOMEBODY’S appreciating it besides Kid Rock in “All Summer Long”
Lynyrd Skynyrd’s songs fuck hard and honestly so does pretty much anything that isn’t shitty post 9/11 bro country
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alamari-chibi · 9 months ago
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@pocket-size-cthulhu
I'm making a separate post bc I kind of sent myself down a rabbit hole. I wanna clarify that I am a Big Hozier Fan and that most country music is a different lyrical ballpark entirely bc of the nature of the genre. (If I had to describe it I'd say it's more literal and storytelling than the whole, like, in-the-woods poetry thing hozier's got going on.)
Anyway I tried to find some that have the same kind of poetry to them or at least aren't about dirt roads and, like, alcoholism. (this is very hard to do there are so many songs about drowning your sorrows in alcohol. I think maybe that's a bad thing but what do I know about songwriting)
Zach Bryan - Something in the Orange
Ryan Bingham - Wolves
Deana Carter - Strawberry Wine
Chris Stapleton - Tennessee Whiskey
Brooks and Dunn - Neon Moon
Uncle Lucius - Keep The Wolves Away
Juice Newton - Angel of the Morning
Johnny Cash - God's Gonna Cut You Down
The Band Perry - All Your Life
Lee Ann Womack - I Hope You Dance
Josh Turner - Would You Go With Me
I also have a few that I think just have generally clever lyrics that you probably won't enjoy very much if you don't like country music:
Rodney Atkins - If You're Going Through Hell
Sugarland - It Happens
Jessica Andrews - Who I Am
Billy Currington - People are crazy
Blake Shelton - Honeybee
Tim McGraw - Just to See You Smile
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lupismaris · 1 year ago
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I just spent the last four hours floating on and swimming in a river something deep within me is healed
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50cal-fullauto-astarion · 1 year ago
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Price is the foreman of a damn good crew, probably one of the best operating under the Shepard Construction Co. LLC umbrella. He’s had his equipment operator—Riley, but everyone calls him Ghost (long-ass story, don’t ask)—since the big bastard got chewed up and spit out at Roba Contracting (mentioned something about getting trapped underground, won’t catch him in a hole these days). More than once Price has poached him when better companies have come a-calling, and Ghost always goes.
Next came Gaz, and Price was sort of surprised by him. Pretty fresh-faced kid, could’ve been working an easy job out of the elements, but wanted to be out doing actual work. Can’t begrudge that kind of drive, and he picks up quick. Would not at all be surprised if kid ended up superintendent some place the next five or ten years, got the brains for it.
Then there’s Soap. Jesus Christ, man came up in demo companies, and it never fails to show, but fuckin’-A, Price points and he goes. Doesn’t matter if he’s hungover, sick, sunburnt, or pulling insane OT to get out of the road, the bastard throws his all into it without complaint. Got to a point, too, where he and Ghost just work in tandem, Soap’s big burly ass hanging off whatever piece of equipment Ghost’s pulling a nightmare move on.
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almostempty · 4 months ago
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Never made it as a wise man
(joel miller x f!reader)
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Description: Joel solves your car troubles for free, and you try to return the favor with a homecooked meal. When you accidentally interrupt his jerkoff session, you take a chance and help him out.
Note: y’all are out here answering god’s toughest questions, like what if emotionally unavailable Joel was loved unconditionally? or what if Joel was the Mothman?, and I deeply appreciate that. 
However, today, I am here to answer a question that nobody asked– What if Joel was a divorced dad rock kinda guy? 
You know, like, listening to Nickelback on an old-school boombox in his garage, or unironically singing Creed on the way to work, or bonding with Ellie over Papa Roach? And also, (inspired by a genius) what if he was a little bit pathetic? 
Anyway, I present to you: divorced dad rock dilf, Joel, ta-da! (my humble submission for @hellishjoel‘s hot dilf summer challenge) obvs dedicated to: @auteurdelabre
ao3: read here | masterlist: here | part 2 here | part 3 here
Tags/warnings: AU no outbreak divorced Joel x f!reader, Sarah is not mentioned, but Ellie is your adult coworker, reader is clueless about cars and so am I, gratuitous smut and horny thoughts, implied jorkin’ joel but no witnesses, hand job, fingering, premature ejaculation, touch starved kinda loserish but hot divorced dilf joel, he’s a real tiddy guy in this one and idk why it just happened, pwp, is it a crackfic? maybe, but i meant it wholeheartedly so idk  
WC: 4.2k
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You pull onto the long driveway, hoping to see Joel’s truck. You forgot to text first to see if he would be around, but he did tell you to come by if you ever needed anything. You mostly just hope he’ll be willing to accept your gift. 
Last week, he’d helped you out by fixing your car. He told you what the issue was, but he might as well have been speaking another language when he described it. You had already brought coffee and a plate of cookies to your coworker Ellie to thank her for dragging you to Joel’s to ask for help. Being in a new town was hard enough, but you had no idea how you would handle the price for diagnostics, let alone whatever the repair would’ve cost. You tried to offer Joel the cash you had as a thanks, but he wouldn’t accept it. You tried to argue with him, but Ellie told you it wasn’t worth arguing with him. He wouldn’t budge. Instead, he had offered to change your oil for you, making you feel even more indebted to him. 
At first, the most you got out of Ellie for intel on Joel was that he was the one responsible for you having to listen to “One Last Breath” and “Lips of an Angel” at ungodly early hours. Ellie claimed that her music taste was deeply influenced by Joel, and somehow, Ellie is always in charge of the music at work. When you rolled your eyes calling it divorced dad rock, she let it slip that you were right about that. 
That explains a lot when you remember the brief time you spent in his house and shop. The house was clean inside but not tidy. Stray beer bottles and travel mugs dotted the counter and coffee table. But the shop had all the Divorced Dad Barbie accessories. 
The project car and crates of assorted parts. The beer fridge and the plastic lawn chairs in the corner for bullshitting with whoever stopped by. The boombox on the workbench with the stack of CDs. And the fading calendar from another decade with the naked woman kneeling on the beach. 
You hadn’t been able to stop your eyes from darting to her sultry expression and swimsuit model-perfect breasts when Joel had been explaining what he was going to do to your car. You wondered if the heat burning in your cheeks had given you away, but he didn’t notice then. Ellie sure did, though, and she had rolled her eyes at you, noting it had been up so long she even forgot it was there. 
Luckily, Ellie didn’t notice your eyes lingering on Joel’s body. You weren’t trying to be a creep, but the way his arm flexed when he opened the hood of your car gave you some feral brand of intrusive thoughts. The ratty band t-shirt and the faded jeans were working for him, too, or at least they were doing something for you. Time slowed when your eyes trailed over his arms and down the muscles of his broad back. He just seemed so… solid. You finally understood what your friends back home meant when they said they wanted to climb a man like a tree. You had jumped a little when Ellie slammed the fridge behind you and shouted at Joel about how he can’t just live in the shop drinking shitty beer and eating beef jerky. She had grabbed your arm to drag you to the house for an iced tea while he worked. 
Her comment sparked your idea. You figured Joel must be a utilitarian type. He probably lives on frozen pizzas–or even worse, those Hungry-Man frozen TV dinners–instead of making himself something fresh. Maybe he’s one of those guys who got really into smoking meats instead. Either way, you hope the lasagna you made from scratch and the other tray of cookies will be an acceptable thank you for his help. He can’t refuse it if you already made it, right? 
You pull up next to a truck, assuming it’s his, and that he’s home. Before you grab the tray, you pause to check your reflection and adjust your breasts in your white tank top, making sure your cleavage pokes out as temptingly as possible. 
You check yourself in the mirror with a look. Why does it matter what you look like? It’s not like you’re trying to fuck your only (almost) friend’s dad, right? Although she calls him by his first name, not Dad, so maybe there’s like a loophole or something if she’s adopted. You think about the calendar model and her perfect tits hanging on the wall over his tools. It can’t hurt to just do a little harmless flirting, right? Maybe you aren’t even his type anyway. 
After knocking on the door a couple of times, you frown, wondering if he’s not home. On the way back to your car, with your head hung in defeat, your ears perk up at the sound of something clanging in the shop. Of course! 
You skitter back to the front porch to leave your goods by the door and head for the shop to find that divorced DILF–Joel, you mean. It’s sweltering out, and sweat is beading on your chest after only a few minutes in the heat. The closer you get, the more easily you can make out the sound of his little CD player blasting another brooding, raspy ballad sung by a white man with a troubled love life. 
The garage door is shut, so you knock on the door on the side of the building. You wait a minute before testing your luck and opening the door yourself. Assessing the shop, you don’t see your man, sorry, Joel, at first glance. The music blasts, and the calendar model gives you the same impish smirk through her false lashes and a layer of dust, but there’s no Joel. The evidence clearly dictates that he’s in here somewhere, as his tools are strung around his project, the lights are on, and a beer with a sweating label sits on the edge of the workbench. 
You aren’t trying to be sneaky. You didn’t think to holler and announce your presence over the music. Plus, you didn’t fully get your bearings the last time you were here. Now, you can pick up a few more details as your eyes absorb everything they can about anything that gives you a hint about who this guy is. 
The guy that’s been haunting your dreams for a week. Last week, when you walked back to the shop with Ellie to check on your car, you nearly tripped, watching Joel wipe the sweat off his face with the bottom of his shirt. You had just caught a glimpse of the trail of hair disappearing under his jeans, but it was enough to replay in your mind every night as you created your little scenarios to carry you off to sleep. 
The scent memory was somehow worse. It was so easy to transport yourself back in time with the thought of the sweaty musk and the grease or oil smeared on his fingers. It shouldn’t turn you on, right? 
You remember thinking he seemed so knowledgeable when describing the issue. You had no idea what he was talking about, but his low voice and patience were enough to tell you he could talk you through anything. 
You notice a few other details as you enter his sacred space today. The woodworking projects, the band posters, and the pictures with Ellie and other family members tacked to the wall over another workbench. 
Still, no Joel, however. 
You circle the partially disassembled project truck and see a door to another room. It would be the office if the shop were a professional business. There’s a window along the wall, but instead of a boss watching an employee, it’s you hoping to see that brawny man and his dark curls. 
As you step closer, you nearly squeal. There he is. Well, at least, you can see the broad shoulders and back you’ve been picturing above you in bed. You practically skip to the door. It’s already open a crack, and you give it a knock, calling his name as it swings open from the force of your rapping knuckles.   
The next moment is a blur. 
“Shit, fuck, hold on!” Joel shouts gruffly as he slams the door in your face. But you already heard it. The phony wailing noises that came from the busted speaker on his phone. 
You still face the closed door, trying to process the interaction before he wrenches the door back open. He’s breathing rapidly, chest rising and falling, as he looks at you with wide eyes that quickly narrow. 
“What are you doing here?” he barks. 
Your hands fall to your sides, and you start to step back, ready to turn and run. 
He catches your fear and tries to adjust, but you’re faster. 
“Sorry,” you mumble as you turn and try to dash away. Joel’s quick, too, though, and he grabs your wrist. 
“Hey, wait,” he loosens his grip when you spin back towards him, “I just didn’t hear you comin’. Wasn’t expecting you.” 
“Sorry,” you repeat, stuttering as you continue, “I-I just, uh, just wanted to say thanks for your help last week.” You stare at the floor. Unsure why you’re embarrassed, you feel so small after he saw your face and practically shouted at you. 
“All right,” he rumbles. You’re too busy staring at the crack in the concrete floor to notice how his eyes are glued to your exposed skin. Or to see the blotchy red flush that crawls up his neck and toward his face. 
But your brain starts to catch up. Joel might’ve snapped at you, but you’re the one that caught him in the act. You don’t lift your head, but your eyes trail over his stained and faded jeans until you’re studying his crotch. 
Bingo. It’s almost too easy. You can make out the outline of his erection tucked up in his waistband. Even more glaring evidence is the open fly. You wish you had caught what he was watching. How does he like it? What does he search for when he wants to jerk off in the back office on a hot Saturday afternoon? 
He clears his throat, and you snap your attention to his face. “Was there somethin’ you needed?” He asks. 
“Yes.” You tell him you’ve got a lasagna that should get into a fridge before it reheats in the sun. He follows you toward the front door and into the house, not missing how your hips sway as you lead. 
Once the tray is shoved into the fridge, nestled between some takeout containers, he turns to thank you. “You didn’t need to do all that,” he gruffs over the cookies and homemade meal. 
You step back to lean against the counter, littered with mail and more coffee cups, and let yourself check him out up close. His faded Creed t-shirt has holes around the neck. He’s got that same sweaty man musk going on, and you wish you knew why that stirred your arousal, but your pussy lacks logic. 
“I know, I know,” you reply, “but you really saved my ass with the car, and I wanted to do something for you. You know, some way to pay you back?” 
“All right, well, thanks,” he trails off. He doesn’t seem to know what else to say. Maybe you should be on your way already, but he’s not ushering you out the door. 
This time, you do catch when his eyes drop to your chest. There’s no way you’re imagining the tension between you as you stand in his kitchen while he stares at your barely clothed tits, right? Fuck it. You’re gonna go for it. 
You take a step towards him. “I wasn’t sure if it was really enough,” your voice is soft and tempting, and your sweet perfume wafts towards him like a lust potion. Joel swallows thickly as you approach.
He knows you must’ve put it together, but he tried to delude himself. Maybe you couldn’t hear the theatrical screams of the woman he was watching get railed before he slammed the door in your face. He hopes all you heard was Chad Kroeger’s voice screaming, “This time I'm mistaken
For handin' you a heart worth breakin'” from the stereo.. on the other side of the shop. 
“You worked so hard,” you continued with one final step, and now you’re nearly toe-to-toe in front of him. “There has to be something else I could do.” You’re so close to him. He forgets to respond. It takes all his power to keep his eyes on your face. 
You have a wild urge to taste the sweat on his neck, but you keep your tongue to yourself. He hasn’t made any move to encourage you, but he hasn’t stopped you yet either, so you figure it’s worth taking a risk. 
“Maybe you’ve got a problem I could help you with.” You go for it, reaching your hand out to palm at the bulge in his jeans. 
Again, too many things happen at once. Joel snaps out a “What?” in disbelief. His hand circles your wrist tightly. His hips jerk, involuntarily bucking into your palm. Your glossy lips part into an “o” shape at the size of his not-quite-hard cock. And now you’re both locked into this position like statues. 
His fingers stay firmly wrapped around your wrist, but he doesn’t pull you away. Your fingers squeeze over his jeans, and your eyes flash wide as you can feel his cock twitch and stiffen at your touch. The touch that rapidly overrides your better judgment, drowning you in want. Your clit twitches itself in response, your nipples strain under your thin tank top, and your eyelids feel heavy immediately. 
“What are you doing?” His voice crackles like he hadn’t just used it. You slide your hand to pop the button on his jeans, and he releases your wrist as you flip it to slip your fingers under the waistband of his boxers in search of his cock. 
“Let me help,” you say in more of a whispered tone. The searing heat between Joel’s legs makes you salivate. Your fingers graze coarse curls before you acquire your target, wrapping your palm and fingers around his thick shaft. His size has your cunt throbbing in your shorts. 
Joel’s eyes are squeezed shut. He looks nearly in pain. You pull your hand back out to let the pool of saliva on your tongue drip into your palm. 
“Jesus,” he breathes out, watching your lewd maneuver. “You wanna help?” He repeats your plea in the form of a question, a little dumbfounded. He’s trying to figure out what’s happening right now. 
“I do,” you answer in a honeyed voice as you dig your hand back into his pants. He’s unable to respond with words as you swirl your palm over the head of his cock, mixing saliva and precome, but his body eggs you on. He bucks into your fist, and you work quickly, pumping his throbbing length. The slick noises are muffled by the layers of clothing, but the grunts that catch in his throat shoot piping-hot desire straight into your core. 
He looks a little desperate, eyes slammed shut again, jaw slack, arms hanging uselessly at his side. And for god knows why, the entire scene pulls a moan from your lips. The sweet sound snaps Joel back to attention. His hands shoot straight to your breasts, cupping them gently to feel them bounce against the motion of your arm wrestling with his jeans to keep stroking his cock. 
They’re so close to spilling over your tank top on their own. Joel can’t resist tugging the thin material until they spill over the top. The sight alone nearly has him coming in his pants. But then you moan so loudly when he squeezes them both and pinches at your nipples, and he really can’t stop. 
“Fuck, fuck, wait,” he spits out, but it’s too late. His hips jerk erratically, thrusting into your slick fist, and he’s coming. It coats your hand and wrist and makes an absolute mess.  You relax your grip when his whole body seems to shudder and gently remove your hand. He tries to choke his groan of frustration before it surfaces, but he immediately pauses his shame spiral when he sees you suck your come-coated fingers one by one. 
“God, that’s so fucking hot,” you tell him. At the same time, he’s muttering curses at the sight of you. You’re feeling a little giddy that all it took was your hand and showing your tits to have Joel losing control and spilling his load for you. It has your mouth curling into an impish grin. 
He’s got the sight of you half topless in his kitchen, licking your fingers, looking awfully proud of yourself, etching into his memory. Before the blood can return to his brain, he grabs you tightly by the ribs and walks you backward towards the counter. He lifts you onto it and wrenches open your shorts, yanking at them as you lift your hips so he can slide them off of you and drop them onto the kitchen floor. 
Yes! Yes! Yes! The horny little goblins in your brain shriek and chant, incited by the rough and impulsive way Joel gropes at you. It’s barbaric, and that delights you. 
Sitting on the counter, you give him such perfect access to put his mouth on your breasts that he forgets what he was going to say. He mouths at each of them wetly, his beard tickling you as he’s busy sucking marks into your delicate skin. He sucks and bites at your strained nipples until your loud whines turn into a sharp gasp, and he pulls back. 
The heavy-lidded look on your face has him diving back in for more, and you groan and arch into his touch. You rake your fingers into the curls at the back of his neck and tug at him. He grunts and moans into your skin, and it drives you wild. You need to feel him closer. 
You grab the worn cotton on his shoulders until he lets you slip the shirt over his head and drop it onto the counter next to you. It gives you the briefest moment to take in the sight of his built chest and shoulders and softer midsection with that trail of hair you had memorized. You need to taste the salt on his skin. 
Spreading your legs wider, he slots his hips against yours at the edge of the counter, and you run your tongue along his neck. You slide one of your hands down the smooth golden skin of his shoulder, and the other nestles back in his messy curls as his mouth finds yours. 
He tastes like cheap coffee and the peppermint nicotine gum parked above his teeth along the left side of his mouth. You know it’s wrong that you can’t get enough. But you're helpless when he pulls your bottom lip between his teeth, and you mindlessly roll your hips, seeking any relief. 
He’s grumbling in your ear about how it seems like you need help now, but you couldn’t care less about the words coming out of his mouth. His deep voice alone could get you off. You let out an uninhibited whine at the thought. 
“Jesus Christ,” he pulls back. His head hangs, staring at the floor. He shakes it in what you assume is disbelief. You don’t want to wait for him to think any further. You grab his hand, pulling it between your legs.
“Really, fucking, hot.” You echo your earlier declaration. Doing your best to sound assertive. You figure at least your soaked panties will prove your point. 
“Fuck,” he stifles a groan. You’re so wet it coats his fingertips through the thin material. He nudges his fingers into you, over your panties, and you whimper for him. The fabric sticks to you and makes an obscene sound as he toys with you for only seconds. “Oh, you do need my help. Hm?” 
You nod, spreading your legs wider for Joel to have access. He scoffs at you, displayed eagerly atop his kitchen counter. “Just desperate for me, aren’t ya?”
You snap your legs back shut with a glare. 
“No way,” you press, jabbing a finger into his chest, “you don’t get to laugh at me like I’m a slut for you when you just came in your pants for me.” 
His nostrils flare, and blotchy red patches creep up his neck again. You aren’t sure what kind of bear you’ve just, quite literally, poked. 
“But you are, aren’t you?” He challenges. “You came all this way in this excuse for a shirt, just for me.” 
He wedges his hand back between your closed thighs, and you relax just enough to let him work his way back to your core. Your breathing gives you away when it hitches and stutters as he traces his fingers along the hem of the fabric between your legs. You let your legs fall a little wider apart, and he sinks a finger beneath the hem and right inside of you to the knuckle. 
A whiny noise rolls in the back of your throat. 
“Shh,” he sinks a second finger inside of you, and your muscles spasm and contract, “that’s better, hmm?” He slowly pulls his fingers almost all the way out and then plunges them back in. He repeats this, and your core tenses as you writhe for him. 
“You need more?” 
“Yes.” 
“Yeah, you do.” He adds a third finger, and the slight stretch makes you hum. 
“You just need to be filled up, hm?” He teases you. Awfully confident now for a guy you just caught watching porn on his phone in a grimy back office in the middle of the afternoon. 
But your noises and impatient movements spur him on. His sticky cock is filling out his jeans again. He nearly drools at the thought of the wet walls of your cunt, currently wrapped around his fingers, sliding over his cock instead. He knows you want it, too.
“Don’t you?” He asks like you could read his mind.
“Hm?” You hum absently. Empty headed. You’re still taken by the entire pulpy, messy scene. 
Reveling in the vulnerability of being spread open on his cluttered counter as you’re both half-dressed and panting in the other’s hot breath. Any semblance of the lightness of your mood is quickly replaced with a blinding need. His fingers work into you, making obscene sounds, and then you add your own fingers. Circling your swollen clit just as he lets you in on his vision. 
“You wanna bounce on my lap. Fill this pussy with my cock.” 
“Yes,” you hiss as you hover at the edge. 
“Yeah, that’s it,” he watches your fingers working deftly over your swollen clit. The encouragement tips you over. Your body jolts erratically as you contract around his fingers, and bright sparks of pleasure course through you. 
“Yeah, you’re gonna ride me like fuckin’ champ,” he decides. You pull at his wrist when you start to feel overwhelmed, and he slides his wet fingers over your soft inner thigh. He’s ready to grab you and carry you to the couch when both of your heads snap to attention at the sound of a door slamming in the driveway. 
“Shit,” he grumbles, looking for the clock on the stove before he remembers it’s definitely not set to the right time. You move nimbly, shimmying into your shorts, snapping your straps back over your shoulder, and brushing your hair out of your face. 
“Hey, wait,” he calls for you, but you’re on the move. 
“Let me know when I can pick up the baking dish,” you call over your shoulder. Luckily, Joel’s next guest seemed to know him better. They were off to search the shop first, so you didn’t collide with anyone before you got to your car. Joel stayed locked in the kitchen, catching his breath while you started to pull away. He didn’t see that you stole his dirty Creed shirt off the counter before you skipped out the door. 
When you grab it later to wear to bed, a naughty little smile tugs at the corners of your lips. When you pull the worn fabric to your nose to inhale deeply, you wonder if it’s one of those weird pheromone matches or something because you’re sure the sweaty man musk should be wrinkling your nose. 
Instead, it makes you think of his big arms and chest filling out the shirt. And how his shoulder and back muscles ripple under his sun-bronzed skin. What they’d look like coated in a sheen of salty sweat as he railed you, bent over his workbench, under the watchful eye of the calendar model and her flirty smize. 
The image has you interrupting your own scenarios-before-bed time. Maybe Joel needs a model from this decade. You giggle, bunching up the t-shirt to snap a tasteful shot of some underboob cleavage, with the faded Creed logo on full display. 
You send it off with no context, figuring it’s self-explanatory. It’s less than a minute before your phone buzzes, and you feel the intoxicating rush rip through your body before you pick it up to see just the heading on your lockscreen: 
Joel
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part 2 here | part 3 here
divider by @cyberangel-graphics
Please let me know if you enjoyed or hated this or a secret third thing (???) heheh
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frmisnow · 3 months ago
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play pretend ! 𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ nsfw.
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the premise of fake dating your best friend, for just a weekend, is hilarous.. and scary. but what happens after is even scarier.. it's just play pretend right?
warnings / includes — vulgar language, drinking, multiple orgasms, pussy eating
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you blamed being way to drunk and jungkook for this situation. it was all his damn fault.
if he hadn't looked at his phone with that stupid look in his face, rolling his eyes at the bright message on the screen. if he hadn't leaned over to your ear, barerly managing to stand due to the beer in his system, groaning about his mom asking him about getting a serious relationship once again. if he hadn't looked at you with those damned kicked puppy eyes that he only ever pulled out when it came to you, asking — no, begging, if you could pretend to be his girlfriend for just two days, a weekend.
for the family reunion in a week.
you had pushed him away, then pulled him back to hold onto him in order to not stumble onto the nearest dancing stranger close to you, laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of his request.
you and him, a couple? nobody would believe that. like ever, especially his mom.
the mom who watched you not move a single muscle at the sight of him shirtless back when you both vacationed at their summer house, in what? junior year? the mom who watched you crush on jungkook's best friend, right in front of her eyes.
no, never would she ever believe that there was anything more then platonic feelings between you both.
but again, you couldn't quite say no when jungkook held your hair up as you puked, about an hour later. not when he gave you water, rubbed over your back in an attempt of giving you some sort of comfort during your nausea.
and you felt bad for him: you knew that jungkook and love didn't really go hand in hand, hell- everybody did. he never stayed around long enough for anything to even scratch the surface of love. you liked to imagine that he wanted it, you see the way he looks at other couples at parties, the ones that are all up in eachother faces, not in a sexual manner just like a safe space.
real, lasting, consuming love? he didn’t seem capable of holding on to it. never changed his ways, he was transparent on how long he planned on staying (which was usually a night) and that was it.
that didn't stop his mother though.
jungkook complained about it often, about how she couldn't stop comparing him to his sister. the sister who married a year ago, already has a child on the way. 'why couldn't he just be a bit more like her taking things more serious n' everything.' is something she said right to your face once when you were talking.
you knew it hurt him, more then he showed, the fact that he simply wasn't good enough. in every way, really.
well, according to his mom.
so you quietly mumble a "fine" as silence filled his living room when he sets up the uno cards on the floor, it's about 4am now. you were to restless to sleep, the loud music still thumping in your head, a little bit of an after taste of your vomit still sitting somewhere.
he didn't say anything, which was strange since he usually was so snarky. just grabbed your shirt, forcing you to sit down on the carpet with him, just muttering something about him 'winning this shit'
if you had to summarize the night, it would've been that he won two rounds.
the coming saturday was hell.
hot, burning hell — in the regard that jungkook touched you absolutly everywhere, and all that in front of his family too.
intertwined your hands at the dinner table where you had to hide a grin, slapped your ass when you helped his mom with kimchi, traced faint circles on your clothed hip when his dad showed you both the new truck he bought.
well, it wasn't just his family. there was somebody else who came, un announced to the both of you.
sooyoung, or better known as his ex.
sooyoung and jungkook were complicated. way more then that, sooyoung wanted something serious, asked to move in with him after like two months (which was the longest time you've seen him be with anyone romantically). it freaked him out and it all resulted in this huge fight, she didn't say the best things about him during it and he- too, of course.
you knew her and his sister were somewhat close but this much? she hadn't even been at the wedding.
but they seemed to be at the hip, and if they weren't, sooyoung was somewhere lurking, studying the both of you, hair short, nails long, lips always glossy.
her dresses were short too, reminding of the time where you had to go clubbing with the both of them. oh, how the tables turn.
the club was packed, a familiar chaos that Jungkook and his friends always sought out on weekends whenever he was back in his hometown. you had lost track of how many drinks you’d had, your head spinning pleasantly, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to focus.
all of a sudden you felt fingers softly digging into your cheeks, holding up your chin to meet the concerned eyes of jungkook, "are you okay?"
you blinked slowly, the world tilting slightly. “yeah, just... feeling a little warm,” you admitted, your voice slurring as you struggled to keep your balance. his brows furrowed, and before you could register what was happening, he was taking your hand and guiding you through the crowd to the bathrooms.
the bathroom door swung open, and he ushered you inside, the harsh fluorescent lights making your eyes squint.
“whoa, bright,” you mumbled, stumbling a little as you sat on the edge of the toilette, your legs spread, mind fucked. jungkook turned on the tap, splashing cool water into his hands before cupping them and splashing it on your face. You gasped, the cold jolting you back to some semblance of clarity.
"better?"
"i want you to touch me."
his hands still hovered near your face, droplets of water slipping from his fingers and onto your collarbone, but you barely registered them.
"wait, what?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper, his gaze searching your face for any sign of playfulness. but there was none.
jungkook cursed under his breath, running a hand through his hair, eyes flicking to the bathroom door as if hoping someone would pull him out of this situation — "you're drunk as fuck." he groans, but the words sound more like he was convincing himself rather than you.
you tilt your head, tongue darting out to lick your lips like a damn slut as you mumbled a 'so what?' “you’re drunk too. doesn’t change the fact you’ve been looking at me all night like you wanted to fuck me, kook. don’t pretend."
the muscles in his jaw twitched, a flush covering his cheeks that wasn't just from the alcohol, "listen, let's just get you some water, okay? you've had way too much to drink tonight."
you had never seen jungkook blush before. and you don't know what's gotten into you, but you want to see it longer.
so your fingers reach out, pulling him closer by his belt, looking up to him, "tell me you don't want me, and i'll close my legs, pretend i'm not wet n' pretend like this never happened."
but he gets on his knees for you, careeses your thighs in a matter that should come of as comforting but just ends up making you wetter, leans forward to press a small kiss onto the bare skin, "i'm gonna get you home now. and you'll sleep and wake up tommorow, well rested. think about it again."
but you don't listen, of course you don't. your legs spread even wider, greedy fingers moving to his hair.
his jaw clenched so hard you thought he might crack a tooth, but then his hands ran up your thighs, the touch feather-light, as though he was restraining himself from touching you like he really wanted to.
"you're making this hard." he whispers between gritted teeth.
if you hadn't been so drunk, you would've seen something else being real hard but you were way to out of it. all your mind could think of was lifting up your hips, in a desperate fashion, anything to show him how much you needed it.
in the following twenty minutes, you come; not once, not twice — three fucking times. after each orgasm he kisses your clit, tells you how pretty you were, how he's gonna take care of you, with fresh release coating his lips.
and right after the third one, your head falls against the head rest, yes shut tightly before you meet his gaze again and the words slip out of your mouth, "fuck, i think i like you."
he pauses, his eyes widening as if you just pulled him out of his very own movie, "what?"
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alisonsfics · 3 months ago
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risk it all for you
pairing: tyler owens x reader
summary: you and tyler have liked each other since high school. but you both may have waited too long to tell each other, which leads to a pretty nasty fight between the two of you. that’s when a storm comes.
word count: 3.7k
a/n: ended up being so much longer than i thought it would, but had a blast writing for everyone’s favorite tornado cowboy
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The comforting scent of burning wood filled your lungs as you sat by the campfire. You didn’t even notice the smile that was glued to your face as you looked around.
The recent storms had brought in all kinds of visitors, hoping to witness a tornado up close and personal. It was the end of a busy day, and all the chasers were camping out in the parking lot of the motel they were staying at.
Tyler, your best friend since high school, had invited you to the bonfire. Tyler had always been the adrenaline junkie, not you. Chasing tornadoes was his thing, and you were glad to let him have it all to himself.
You were currently sitting in the back of Tyler’s truck waiting for him to bring you back a beer.
“So, you’re telling me you and Tyler have never gone for a ride?” One of Tyler’s friends continued to pester you. You quickly shook your head. You couldn’t bear the thought of risking your life like that. “Never, you all can keep your tornadoes. I am happy staying at home and hearing the stories.” You replied.
“Nobody said I was talking about tornadoes.” He retorted. The whole group erupted into laughter. Your cheeks heated up at the implication. It wasn’t like you’d never thought about it. You definitely had.
You heard a few rogue whistles. “Alright, that’s enough.” You heard a low voice say beside you. You turned to look over your shoulder and saw Tyler with two beers in hand.
“Here you go, sweetheart. Don’t let ‘em bother you too much.” He said, handing the bottle over to you. He jumped up to sit next to you on the tailgate. Even after being friends for years, you still sometimes got butterflies when you hung out with him.
“I mean, you can’t blame them. It’s a complete mystery how we’ve managed to stay just friends. I mean, you are just so hot and irresistible. I don’t know how any girl could stay friends with the infamous Tyler Owens.” You sarcastically teased him.
He nearly spit out his beer as he laughed at your joke. Whenever Tyler laughed at your jokes, it was like a little ego boost.
Many people had prodded over the years and asked you and Tyler why you never dated. Every time you gave a sarcastic response to the questions, Tyler fell a little harder for you.
Tyler leaned against you, clinking his bottle against yours. His arm pressed up against yours. Heat radiated off his skin. You hadn’t realized how cold you were. Tyler noticed too.
“Oh hang on, here take this,” he said, grabbing a blanket from behind him. He carefully wrapped it around your shoulders, so it would keep you warm.
You could smell his cologne on the blanket. If you closed your eyes, you could pretend you were wrapped up in his arms.
“So, Tyler, if you two aren’t together, are you seeing anybody else?” One of the girls sat around the fire asked Tyler. You instantly felt your stomach drop. You’d watched girls flirt with Tyler for years, but it never got easier. You faked a smile, but inside, you had a pit in your stomach.
“Why you wanna know? You want me all to yourself?” Tyler jokingly flirted back.
It was no secret that Tyler was a flirt. It never meant anything more to him. It was always just a flirty comment. But you still got jealous. You knew you and Tyler couldn’t have any kind of flirtatious relationship.
The girl pretended to fan herself and blew a kiss towards Tyler. Everyone was laughing at the silly exchange. You just couldn’t do it.
You set down the blanket and hopped down off the tailgate. “I gotta get something out of my car.” You lied, since everyone’s eyes were glued on you. Jealousy was written all over your face. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out.
They all went back to their conversations as you walked away. You wiped away the tear that was rolling down your cheek.
You heard a heavy pair of footsteps behind you. “Wait up. Where ya goin’?” He asked. You both knew you weren’t just “getting something out of your car.”
“Anywhere but here, Tyler,” you said. You continued walking and refused to look back at Tyler. You knew if you looked at him, you’d melt and lose the courage to leave. Tyler could convince you to do anything, and all it took was the twinkle in his eye.
You reached out to open your car door. Tyler smacked his hand against the door, pushing it closed. The loud slam caused you both to jump. It hadn’t been so aggressive in his head.
He mumbled a quick “sorry” and then squeezed himself between you and the car, his back pressed up against the car door.
You focused your eyes on the ground. You refused to look him in the eye.
“What’s goin’ on? Are you mad at me?” He asked you. You rolled your eyes and huffed. He waited for you to answer as you stubbornly crossed your arms. “I’m not mad at you, Ty. I just want to leave.” You said, with your eyes still glued to the ground.
He grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him. You bit your tongue, trying to remain assured. Tyler had to resist the urge to laugh at how much effort it was taking you to keep a serious face.
“Really? Cause it looks like you’re mad at me. In fact, it looks like you’re a little jealous.” He said, smirking down at you. He moved his hand from your chin to brush a piece of hair behind your ear.
You pushed him off of you and took a step back. “Oh, really? Is it that obvious?” You said, hitting his arm. He cocked his head to the side. He was expecting you to deny it, and he was a little shocked when you didn’t.
“So, you are feelin’ a little jealous? Why didn’t you just tell me?” He said, taking a small step towards you. He was wearing the same cocky smile that he always had plastered on his face.
“Do you know how hard it is to see you flirt with every girl you meet?” You asked. He furrowed his brow as he tried to figure out why you were so frustrated. To him, it seemed like there was a very simple solution.
He let his hand rest on your waist, softly toying with the fabric of your shirt. “Well, sweetheart, if you wanted me, you could have just told me. I’m right here for you to take.” He told you, genuinely. Hearing those words come out of his mouth made your stomach do flips.
“It’s different with me and you. We can’t flirt the way you do with those girls.” You told him. You could feel yourself starting to give into his touch, as you leaned in closer to him. “I see no reason why we can’t, sweetheart.” He said, looping his arm around your waist and pulling you closer to him.
You could feel your heart pounding. You had to remind yourself to breathe. His cologne was enveloping all your senses. Your eyes were stuck on his.
“Cause with them, it’s casual. But we’ve been friends for years, so it could never be casual. It would have to be all or nothing. It would have to be this serious thing, or we’d risk our entire friendship.” You told him, your voice coming out as a whisper. He ran his fingers through your hair. He couldn’t help but admire you under the moonlight.
“I never claimed to want something casual with you, sweetheart.” He told you. You could feel goosebumps spread down your arms as he looked at you like you were his everything.
You had to pull yourself out of it. You were getting dragged in. “We can’t be together, Tyler.” You said, pulling yourself out of his grasp. You noticed his slight frown as you slipped out of his arms.
“Why not? I think we both know we’d be great together.” He tried to convince you. He didn’t know why you seemed so hesitant when you both knew the feelings were mutual.
He could see the sadness on your face. You wanted to be with Tyler, but you knew it wouldn’t work. “I would always end up as your second priority. It would ruin us, and we’d never be able to be friends again.” You told him. Your emotion was clear in your voice.
He cocked his head to the side in confusion. That was the last thing he expected you to say. He never thought he struggled at showing you how important you were to him.
“What do you mean? Nobody comes before you. Nobody ever has. I’ve always put you first.” He told you. He was practically begging you for answers. He wanted to know how to assure you.
“Owens, I’m not talking about a person. I’m talking about all of this.” You said, looking around you both. There were storm chasers camping out for as far as you both could see. “What are you saying? That we can’t be together because I chase tornadoes?” He asked, starting to raise his voice.
You both were very stubborn people, so it was gradually turning into more of an argument.
“I’m saying you’d always have one foot out the door. And at the drop of a hat, you’d be racing out to risk your life. I can’t be wondering if you’re gonna come home. But, I know how much you love what you do.” You told him. Your voice cracked, and Tyler stepped forward to try to comfort you.
You put your hands up to stop him. He swore under his breath. He was seeing how determined you really were. He was becoming less confident that you could convince you otherwise.
“Well maybe I love you more.” He said.
The thought of losing you was enough to finally push him to confess how he really felt about you. He saw your eyes soften. Those were the words you’d always dreamed of hearing Tyler say.
You felt your heart break when you realized they didn’t change anything. “Oh, come on, Tyler. It’s not fair to throw out words that you can’t back up with any commitments.” You said.
Tyler was becoming more frustrated as he felt you drifting further and further away. “Don’t push me away. You’ve known me for years. You know me better than anyone. You know I’m not reckless. A risk taker? Yes, but I’m careful enough to stay safe. Because I’ve got someone to come home to.” He told you.
You tried to take a deep breath, but all you could focus on was the broken expression on Tyler’s face. “Tyler, I’ve seen you chase tornadoes for years. I’ve seen how much you light up when you talk about it. I know how much you love it. It’s inspiring, it really is, but it’s also the reason you can’t make a long-term commitment to anything or anyone else.” You told him, honestly.
Tyler shook his head, looking down at the ground. You were technically right. He had trouble making commitments. But it wasn’t because of how much he loved storm chasing.
It was because of how much he loved you.
“What about us, huh? We’ve been friends for years. I’ve never missed a birthday or a phone call or a breakup. So, don’t tell me I can’t make a commitment. I have never failed to be there for you. Why would I stop if we started dating?” He snapped at you.
You flinched at how loudly he was talking. He’d never yelled at you before. He noticed how your expression changed. You stepped backwards, putting some physical and emotional space between the two of you.
You pushed past him to open your car door. “Wait, c’mon, don’t leave,” he begged you. He knew he’d crossed a line, and he was trying to remedy it.
“I’m not gonna stay here when you’re yelling at me like that.” You told him. He grabbed your hand and spun you around to face him. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to. I was trying to tell you that I’d always put you first.” He apologized, squeezing your hand. You wanted nothing more than to melt into his arms. But you couldn’t.
“I can’t do this right now, Tyler.” You said, pulling your hand back and getting in your car. Tyler felt a pit in his stomach as you drove off. He couldn’t help but worry that he’d lost you for good.
He ran his fingers through his hair as he wondered what to do. His eyes landed on the bar across the street from the motel. He started walking in that direction. He felt stupid for being optimistic that you’d reciprocate his feelings.
His friends all called after him, having seen the whole fight go down. They all asked him where he was going, but he ignored them all. He wasn’t quite ready to talk about you and have his friends tell him he’d screwed up. Because he knew that already.
So, while you drove home and started crying on your couch, Tyler went to the bar. He wasn’t even really drinking that much. It was mostly just sulking.
He’d drowned out everyone else at the bar who was partying. He was sitting at the end of the bar staring into his glass. All he could think about was how hurt you looked when he yelled at you.
He wanted to pull you into his arms and apologize over and over until you forgave him.
His thoughts were interrupted when he heard a news alert playing on the television above the bar. His eyes darted up to the screen and saw “Multiple Tornado Spottings”. He realized your house was right in the middle of the storms.
He swore under his breath and raced towards his truck. Fueled by adrenaline, he sped towards your house. He had the pedal pushed down as far as it would go.
Nothing motivated Tyler more than the thought of you being in harm’s way. He grabbed his phone out of his pocket and clicked on your contact.
He anxiously tapped on the steering wheel as his phone rang. It only rang once before he got sent to voicemail. He tried to call you again, and you declined the call again.
You were oblivious to the incoming storm, and you were in no mood to talk to Tyler.
“Oh, come on, sweetheart. Turn on the news, please.” He muttered to himself, praying that he could will it into existence.
Once he got to your house, he barely turned his truck off before jumping out and sprinting towards the front door.
He banged on the door with his fist. The winds were picking up around him. His adrenaline was still running high.
“Go away, Tyler.” He heard you yell from inside. He pounded on the door again. “There’s a storm, sweetheart. We gotta get to the cellar. It’s not safe.” He yelled through the door. He could barely hear himself over the howling wind. He quickly tapped his fingers on his leg, fidgeting as he waited for you to appear.
The door swung open. Your fear was written all over your face. Tyler grabbed your hand and pulled you with him. He glanced over his shoulder and saw a tornado forming in the distance.
The wind was blowing you both around as you raced towards the cellar. Tyler kept a tight grip on your hand. He wasn’t going to let you out of his sight.
“Lookout,” Tyler yelled, shielding your body with his as a dumpster went flying by you both. After it missed you both, he tugged you towards the cellar.
The cellar doors had already flung open from the wind. He grabbed your waist, pushing you inside before him. You quickly ran down to the bottom of the stairs.
“Sweetheart, get me a stick or something down there or these doors won’t stay closed.” Tyler told you. He was wincing as he struggled to hold the doors closed.
You grabbed an old broomstick and handed it to him quickly. He shoved it through the handles and prayed it would hold.
“Alright, c’mon, we gotta get to the back.” He said, nudging you.
“Over here,” you said, grabbing his hand and pulling him into the closet in the back of the cellar.
Tyler closed the closet door behind you both. It was a small closet. You were facing the back wall. He was covering your whole body with his. He had his hand protectively cupping the back of your head.
“Keep your eyes closed and hold on to those pipes, sweetheart.” He instructed you. You quickly nodded your head and did what he told you to do. He pressed a soft kiss to the back of your head, to try to comfort you.
You both had always had a nonverbal way of communicating. He obviously knew you were scared because who wouldn’t be? But he also knew that one of your biggest fears was something happening to him while chasing a storm. And now you were wrapped up in that.
“I’ve got you, sweetheart. I promise, I won’t let anything happen to you.” He assured you, holding onto you tightly.
A high pitched whistle filled the room as the wind started to pick up. You could feel the pressure envelop your whole body. Everything around you was rattling.
Up above you, you could hear thuds as the tornado flung around cars and anything else in its path. It wasn’t long until you both heard the cellar doors rip open.
The howling wind got louder. It made your ears ring. Tyler tightened his grip on you as the closet doors started to shake. Your knuckles turned white as you gripped onto the pipes.
“You promise me you won’t play hero.” Tyler yelled at you. He didn’t want you to get hurt trying to save him. You furiously shook your head. “I’m not letting anything happen to you.” You yelled back.
The closet doors started shaking even more. The hinges were loudly squeaking. You just knew that the tornado was right above you.
A piece of the door ripped off and flew through the air. The air swirled around the tiny closet, making it harder to hold on.
Pieces of the door kept splintering off. One of them sliced against Tyler’s bicep, causing him to wince and bite down on his lip.
The closet doors finally swung open. With the large cut on Tyler’s arm, his grip accidentally loosened. He started getting pulled backwards. He only had one hand on the pipes. He was gripping it with all the strength he had.
You wrapped one of your arms around the pipes and the other around his waist, pulling him back into you. You buried your face into his chest.
Then, the wind almost instantly disappeared.
You both continued to hold onto each other as your adrenaline still ran high. Tyler kissed the top of your head. “It’s over, sweetheart. We’re safe.” He whispered, still trying to catch his breath.
You both slowly pulled away from each other and leaned against opposite walls. Neither of you said a word as you tried to process what had just happened.
“You saved my life, sweetheart.” He said, looking at you with love in his eyes. You could feel the tears start to bubble up. You were finally letting yourself acknowledge how scared you’d been, now that you weren’t in danger anymore.
“I was so scared to lose you.” You whispered, your voice cracking. He pulled you into his arms, nestling his face into the crook of your neck. He softly rubbed your back. “You did everything right, sweetheart.” He assured you.
He continued to hug you until you stopped crying. When you both pulled apart, you could see the guilt in his eyes.
“This was all my fault.” He mumbled under his breath. You furrowed your eyebrows as you looked at him. You stubbornly shook your head. “None of this was your fault. It was a tornado. You might be the tornado wrangler, but you can’t control them.” You said, trying to cheer him up and lighten the mood.
He grabbed your hands, interlacing his fingers with yours. Neither of you wanted to keep your hands off each other. You both were still worried if you took your eyes off the other that they’d disappear.
“I shouldn’t have yelled at you back there. If I hadn’t, we’d both still be at the motel. You wouldn’t have been in harm’s way if it wasn’t for me.” He told you, apologetically. He was realizing that his actions had put you in the wrong place at the wrong time.
“I’m sorry that I yelled at all. I wasn’t mad at you. I really wasn’t. I was mad at myself. You should have no reason to doubt how important you are to me. If you do, I need to fix that.” He said, squeezing both your hands. You noticed a smile start to grow on his face when you didn’t pull away.
“You never gave me a reason to doubt you. I was just scared. We’re not all as brave as the tornado wrangler.” You teased him. He let out a soft chuckle.
It was nice to have a peaceful moment, laughing together like you always did, after a life or death scenario.
“Does that mean?” Tyler started to ask you, a smirk beginning to grow. You just giggled and nodded your head. “Yes, it means you can kiss me, cowboy.” You said, cheesily smiling at him.
He didn’t waste any time grabbing your belt loops and pulling you closer to him. You cupped his face and leaned in to kiss you. You let yourself melt into the kiss. His soft lips fit perfectly against yours. Just like you’d always dreamed.
You could feel him smiling against your lips. You both pulled out of the kiss. Tyler looked at you with a look of awe. “I’ve spent years wishing I could do that.” He said, smiling down at you.
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starkeyisthelastname · 5 months ago
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a trailerpark!rafe blurb for @islandclubchampagneroom 🚬 this is a lil filthy.. you’ve been warned. 😶💦
You looked like a little gorgeous doll, skipping from trailer to trailer with your basket full of goodies you made. You came across your new favorite place, which was Rafe’s trailer. It was kinda run down, but that didn’t matter to you. To your surprise, he was outside already, washing his beat down pickup. You couldn’t help but ogle him a little as he was shirtless, his toned upper body on full display. He made your tummy feel funny every time you were around him, especially when you heard him speak. “It’s a lil’ hot for you to be outside, ain’t it’ baby doll?” He would rasp out.
He held a cigarette in the same hand as he did the hose, rinsing off the rusty truck as the other one brought a can cheap beer to his lips. His hooded blue eyes would stare you up and down, the nasty thoughts already running through his mind as he soaked up every inch of your stunning little self.
“I made cookies! Do you want some?” You asked, voice sweet as you ignored his question about it being too hot.
He eyed you, gulping down the rest of his beer before smashing the can and throwing it behind him. He brought the cigarette up to his mouth, motioning you to come closer. He wrapped an arm around your waist, peering down into your basket. “What kind you make, sweet cheeks?” He asked, squeezing your hip roughly.
You felt giddy every time he touched you, biting your glossy bottom lip as you felt the heat shoot down to your core. “Sugar with sprinkles and umm.. chocolate chip with pink frosting. It’s kinda getting melted though…” You pout, not realizing his hand had slipped lower to feel the lack of panties you had on underneath your cotton dress. He blew out the smoke away from your pretty face, before chuckling darkly. “Well how about you come inside and cool off for a lil’ bit and you can set those pretty cookies down..” He suggested, knowing you’d fall for his trap.
He’d be three more beers in, last cigarette in his hand as the other lifted up your dress. “Why you walkin’ around the trailer park with your cunt all out?” He finally asked, large hand coming down to give it a firm smack. He’d have your back, pinned to his broad chest, his sparse facial hair, tickling your neck. You wiggled against his denim covered lap, the funny feeling in your tummy growing the more he touched you.
“You think this sweet lil’ hole is ready for a grown man’s cock?” His voice in a low drawl as the cloud of cigarette smoke blew down your body.
You were an adult, but your father had kept you sheltered away from everything that was bad. You never had been touched by another man until you met Rafe, and you were desperate for more. You didn’t know what his words meant, but they sounded dirty and your poor little self couldn’t help but nod. He shuffled a bit behind you, putting out the cigarette bud into the overflowed ash tray and lifting you up a little from his lap.
With a pop of his jeans and tug of a zipper, his fat cock smacked against his lower abs as he positioned you back against him. He ran the tip along your dripping folds, loving your whimpers as he teased your greedy little hole. He felt you tense up, gasping as he began to slowly push up into your untouched flower. It took every ounce of him not to completely ram up into your fluttering pussy, your cunt squeezing the fuck out of his dick. “That’s a tight fuckin’ cunt.” He grunted to himself.
You were so full, already dumb on the older man’s cock as the pain subsided for a pleasure you had never experienced. You were at a loss for words, body lazily collapsing against his muscled chest as his dirty hands hooked under your thighs. He began to thrust up into you, his light mustache grazing the smooth skin of your shoulder as he started talking dirty to you. “This is why you don’t come around a bad man like me, sweet baby doll. You get your fuckin cunt ruined.”
You were already too attached to him. Your head spinning as he said the most filthiest things you had ever heard in your sheltered life. Even if he was the exact type of man your father told you to stay away from, you didn’t care. You just didn’t know any better but to be obsessed about the first man to ever give you attention and that happened to be one of your father’s tenants.
“I own you now, sugar. Got that?” Rafe groaned in your ear, the sounds of your pretty moans getting increasingly louder throughout his messy trailer, while he fucked you through your first orgasm. “That’s right.. cum all over daddy’s fat cock, make a mess all over that shit my little fuckdoll.” He told you, feeling you clench around with a scream.
Oh how he was gonna have some fun with you…
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misctf · 4 months ago
Text
Country Living
When he stopped to help you on the side of this lonely country road, you couldn’t have been more grateful. You didn’t expect your car to breakdown on these desolate backroads. Nor did you expect a lack of cell service. Your years studying in college didn’t exactly give you the knowledge on how to diagnose and fix cars. But based on all the smoke, you figured something was wrong.
“Aw, don't you worry none, I'm right happy to help y'all out.” He removed his ball cap and ran his hand through his short brown hair, “Name’s Bucky. What brings y'all to this neck of the woods?”
He was certainly taller and more muscular than you- not to mention ripe with the smell of a hard day’s work. And you could tell he was looking you over, the juxtaposition couldn’t have been clearer. Country vs city boy, manual laborer vs keyboard warrior, dropped out of high school vs college educated. The list could go on. But despite the bias you held towards these country folks, you were happy he was helping. And so you introduced yourself and expressed your sincere gratitude. Bucky smiled and gave you a bone crushing handshake.
“Ain't no trouble at all, I'm just glad to help out.” He smiled warmly, his dark eyes, while lacking intelligence, were filled with kindness and just a bit of mischief.
He winks at you and you felt your heart flutter for just a moment. Maybe it was the way his stubble framed his tanned face. Or the way the sweat dripped from his muscular arms as he worked on your car. Or perhaps it was the occasional glances he gave you and the sly smirk that told you he knew you were checking him out.
“I reckon I know what's wrong. Just need to grab a tool from my garage.” He said, wiping the sweat from his brow, “You care to join me? Looks like you could use a sip of somethin’.”
It was true. In the sweltering heat, you were certainly thirsty. And while part of you wanted to stay with your car, you felt beckoned to go with him. And so you did. You climbed into his pick-up truck and watched as he revved the engine. And before long, you were cruising down the old country road with your car disappearing from sight.
“Well, dang if this ain't my favorite tune!” Bucky said, turning up the volume, “You figure you into this kinda music?”
It was some country song. One about cars, beer, and living on a farm. Not something you’d listen to voluntarily. But as Bucky sang in his southern twang, you found your foot tapping along. Soon you were mouthing the words, almost as if you knew the song by heart. And a moment later you joined in with him, the two of you putting your hearts into every lyric. You barely noticed the southern twang that garnished your voice.
“Well, I'll be darned! Can’t believe you like these kinda tunes. No offense intended, but you don't quite fit the mold, do ya?” He says with a chuckle.
Bucky gives your arm a playful punch and you look down at the exposed, tanned skin of your bicep. Your muscles were contracting and seemingly getting larger, highlighted nicely by the wifebeater that clung tightly to your skin. You look up at Bucky and he gives you a wink. Again, you feel comforted by his kind smile and playful dark eyes. You turn away and absentmindedly run a hand over your growing biceps. So firm and tight, the skin somewhat weathered. But deep down you know something isn’t right. Its nagging at you, begging for you to say something. To at least find out what’s happening to you. You want to tell Bucky, but he’s just pulled up to his garage.  
“Mind givin’ me a hand findin’ my toolkit?” Bucky asks. You nod quickly- your anxiety being pushed deep into your subconsciousness. And as Bucky enters the garage, he pulls off his sweaty wifebeater, “Don't pay me no mind, it sure gets mighty hot 'round these parts. You’re welcome to do the same.”
And you follow his example. As you do, you catch a whiff of your pits. The musk that invades your nostrils is a far cry from the vegan deodorant you applied this morning. Moreso, your usually well-trimmed pit hair is now a curly damp bush of dark brown hairs that poke out when you lower your arms. The smell makes you dizzy and you feel like you might fall over, but Bucky lends you a hand.
“Don’t go faintin’ on me now.” He says with a grin, “We got a lotta work to do.”
“Don't you worry 'bout me none, I got this here handled.” You say- the words leaving your mouth without much input from your brain. Bucky’s eyes light up and he grins.
“I shoulda known that.” His laugh fills your ears and you swear it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve heard. He notices you admiring him, “Gotta find those tools now.”
You nod and start rummaging through his garage and workbench. You pick up a wrench and place it down. Then another and another. You never really needed to learn basic mechanic stuff, let alone the names of wrenches. You were more focused on your degree. Your degree in... In...? You stare at the composite wrench in your hand and your eyes narrow. You were studying something at that univer... uni... book-learnin’ place of yours, right? Your thoughts are distracted when some oil spills on your hands.
“Gosh darnit.” You mutter, wiping the oil on your work jeans. Work jeans that were stained and torn from years of laboring.
You turn towards Bucky to say something, but instead find yourself gawking. His perfect stubble across his face, the sweat gleaming on his firm and toned muscles, and the way his chest hairs frame his pecs. Your dick gets hard and you quickly start to massage your bulge. And when you see how well his work jeans fit tightly around his juicy ass, you can’t but help let out a whistle.
“You say somethin’?” He asks, turning to face you, “Yeehaw! Look at you!” He says, clearly gawking.  
You turn to catch a glimpse of yourself in a nearby mirror and your eyes widen. You bounce your juicy pecs, appreciating the light dusting of hairs that decorate them. You raise your thick, meaty arm and flex, causing your muscles to bulge. And then you look at your face. It had squared out a bit, giving it a masculine edge and your cheeks now sported stubble. You felt powerful, and you couldn’t help but continue to flex.
“Hey there big fella.” You let out a masculine moan as Bucky comes from behind you, his arm reaching around, and his hand grabbing a fistful of your muscle tit, “You’re bigger’n a bull in springtime!” You just nod, unable to produce words as pleasure courses through you from his teasing hand, “It sure does get lonesome out here in these parts. Reckon I wouldn’t mind some company, if it ain’t too much trouble.”
He spins you around, your bodies pressing up against one another. His hand moves down your abs and then down your work jeans. He’s staring deep into your eyes now, a primal lust replacing the prior warmth from earlier. And for the first time, you feel lost. Scared even. As though you’re going down a path you wouldn’t be able to back away from. The end of one chapter of your life and the start of another you weren’t sure you wanted.
“Wait a minute... somethin’ don’t feel right. I... this ain’t who I am.” You say, unable to talk like you used to.
“Now, don’t go overthinkin’ it. Just keep your eyes on me.” Bucky whispered, his hands working to undo the buckle on your jeans.
You watch as he pulls down your pants and slowly gets down on his knees. Your enlarged, throbbing dick continues to grow, adding inch after inch. Bucky is nearly salivating as he comes face to face with your monster, and without another word, his tongue traces along the shaft. You moan as his mouth expertly works your cock. He bobs up and down, taking its entirety into his mouth. You feel as his hands wrap around your waist and he grabs a fistful of your muscular ass, causing you to let out another deep, masculine moan. You can feel your dick throbbing, your balls growing heavy with your seed. And as he expertly works the head of your cock, you can feel it. You’re getting close... so close. And then it stops. You’re breathing heavy now, and you look down at him. A sheen of sweat covers your body, dampening your body hair and filling the air with your country musk.
“Wh... why’d ya stop?” You breath out.
Bucky smirks, “You sure 'bout this, darlin’? Leavin’ behind all that city livin’ and book-learnin’? Just you and me, livin’ simple out here?” He licks along your shaft again, “Once you say yes, that’s it. No turnin’ back, no second thoughts. You sure you’re ready for that?”
Was this what he wanted? To bring you so close? To send you into a horny frenzy? To make it so that in this moment, all you’d be able to say was yes? With a smirk and a wink, he went back to sucking your cock. And as he did, you could feel it. You could feel your brain shrinking. Your memories growing up in suburbia vanished. As were your memories of going to college in the city. Nerdy interests like videogames and comic books vanished from your brain, and you felt terror as you forgot about your friends and family. Everything that made you you was vanishing from your mind. Instead, you could feel new interests: farming, hunting, woodworking, lifting weights, and drinking beer with your husband after a long day. Your fashion sense simplified: wifebeaters and work jeans, and honestly going shirtless was preferred. And as your eyes dimmed to reflect your lack of intelligence, and Bucky bobbed up and down on your dick, you finally came, releasing all of who you used to be. And as you filled your husband’s eager throat, you blacked out.
If someone told you who you used to be in your past life, I’m not sure you would go back. When the police came by a few days after your transformation with a missing persons poster of some kid, you had no idea who they were talking about. You quickly forgot all about that encounter. You had more important things like fixing the truck. But before you did that, you should check on Bucky. It’s been a few days, and your balls were mighty full.
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vivwritesfics · 8 months ago
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I need just the tip with hangman
Heed the warnings for this one - but at the same time I need this Hangman to rail me within an inch of my life lmao, I could write so much for these two
Warnings: smut, age gap, power imbalance, virginity taking, innocence kink, fingering, p in v
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The Squad didn't know that Maverick had a daughter when that mission happened. No, they found out about his daughter after, when things were normal and Penny invited them all over for a barbecue in the garden.
Upon hearing that Maverick had a daughter and she was on her way, they all expected her to be Bradley's age or near enough.
They didn't expect her to be in her early twenties.
They didn't expect her to be a stunner.
Maybe it was the beers that gave Hangman such loose lipped. But he couldn't stop that 'holy shit' from slipping out. Who could blame him, though?
But then...
"Bradley!" She ran into Roosters arms and wrapped her own arms around his neck. Figures, Jake couldn't stop himself from thinking as he looked at them.
He didn't interact with her at that barbecue, but he was acutely aware that her eyes didn't leave him. After a few more drinks she whispered something in Bradley's are, something that had him standing up and saying 'No way!'
The next time Jake saw her was at the beach. She giggled, waved and batted her eyelashes at him before she ran back to her friends.
Jake couldn't take his eyes off of her if he wanted to. Everything she did, it was like she was putting on a show for him and only him.
But, even then, Jake didn't approach.
It was only when he found her at the hard deck. He didn't know she was there looking for him, the handsome aviator that her dad knew.
She sat alone, drinking as she waited for Jake to walk in. And, when she did, she was on her feet, standing beside him as he leant against the bar, ass sticking out.
Jake was sweating. Here was Mavericks daughter, pressing her ass against his dick.
"Hey, Hangman," she said as he turned towards him and wrapped her lips around the neck of her bottle, deep throating it.
Jake visibly gulped. His hands were on her hips ss he stared down at her and leaned forward. "Does this shit work on the boys your age?"
She shrugged her shoulders in such a sweetly, innocent way. "I wouldn't know," she said, breath hot on his ear.
Holy fuck, she was a Virgin.
There wasn't much that could restrain Hangman at that point. But Penny's eyes on him certainly did. He kept her near him thought, kept an eye on her while they drank.
And, at the end of the night, he took her back to his truck.
"Is your dad gonna kill me when I drop you home?" Jake asked when he began driving.
Her fingers danced up his thigh and she let out a hum. "Not if you take me back to yours ," she mused as she popped the button on his trousers.
How was Jake supposed to say no to that? He sucked in a breath as he went past her place, continuing on to his own. Her breath hitched when she realised, but Jake didn't notice.
Jake parked up outside of his place. He helped her out of the truck, but they didn't get further than that. No, Jake had her against the truck, lips bruising against her own.
She moaned against him, hands pulling at his hair. Jake threw his head back, a moan coming from the back of his throat. "Holy shit," he groaned as she attached her lips to his neck.
With her legs around his waist, Jake carried her into his house, with his hands under her ass, squeezing and kneeding at the flesh. He managed to open the door and dropped her on the bed.
But then his hands were on her thigh, pushing her skirt up. Suddenly, she was nervous under his pretty gaze. "Wait," she squeaked, grabbing his wrists.
Jake let out a breath as he looked at her. He moved his hand to her knee and moved his thumb from side to side. "What is it?"
"I-I've never done this before," she whispered, and Jakes eyes softened.
He leaned down and kissed her, softly this time. "I'll take care of you," he whispered against her lips.
She nodded. "I've got you, Bug," Jake whispered as his hand moved down from her knee. His fingertips brushed her thighs and touched her through her underwear.
"Holy fuck," she whispered.
Slowly, he pushed her underwear to the side. His rough fingertips were gentle against her clit, and every touch had her crying out for him. And, each noise she made was music to Jakes ears.
The way she writhed beneath him, Jake couldn't stop watching her. He kept his thumb pressed against her clit, his long fingers pushed inside. One at first, but even that had her gasping.
"Hangman," she cried, throwing her head against the arm of the sofa, back arching.
There was something about that, something about her calling him by his Callsign. It unlocked something animalistic in him. But he was still taking things slow and gentle.
As he worked her open, he freed himself from his trousers. She opened her eyes and looked down at him, looked down at where his hard on hit his stomach.
"Jake," she squeaked, and he stilled his fingers. "I-I don't think I can take that," she whispered.
He didn't mean to smirk, but he couldn't help himself. "Too big for you, Bug?" He whispered as he pulled his fingers out of her cunt. He placed them between his lips, tasting her, releasing a hum. "So sweet, Bug."
She whined beneath him, hips moving on their own.
"How about just the tip?" He asked almost sweetly, and she rapidly nodded her head.
Jake rolled the condom into his length. He stood before her and she reached down to wrap her fingers around him. It was such a pretty sight, one Jake didn't think he'd ever get enough of.
He eased himself forward, nestling the head of his cock between her folds. She let out a whine and grabbed his hand, squeezing as he eased himself forward.
"Just the tip," he reassured her, squeezing her hand.
The way she squeezed him, it was almost too much to handle. Jake pulled back and eased himself in again, this time a little further. Her breath caught in her throat and he pulled back again.
"Sorry, Bug. Just the tip, I know."
Jake couldn't wait to have her bent over the arm of the sofa, cock splitting her folds as he ravaged her.
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lulunothulu · 4 months ago
Text
Okay but imagine…
A drunk Jake “Hangman” Seresin
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Your call-sign: Sparrow
“Ohhh, Y/N!” You hear from behind you.
You turn away from the conversation you were having with Natasha and Bob to see your best friend and roommate, Jake, stumbling over to you.
“Jake,” you smile up at him.
“Did you know your hair looks so pretty in the light?” He asks.
“No, but I can imagine,” you grin up at him, looking behind him to see an equally smiley Bradley and Javy. “Do you need some water?”
Jake only shakes his head, finishing off his beer and wrapping his arms around you in a bear hug. “What I need is a kiss.”
“A kiss?” You ask, heart pounding in your chest.
Jake nods, leaning in close to your ear. He whispers, “I think your lips would be the softest most beautifulest lips I’ve ever wanted to kiss.”
A blush creeps up your neck, you’d wanted to kiss him yourself for the past few years but was scared to ruin the friendship.
Now that Jake was basically admitting that he wanted to kiss you, you couldn’t help but feel your heart flutter. That was, until you remembered that he is absolutely drunk, and there was no way that he could actually want to kiss you. 
“Let’s get you home,” you tell him instead. “Let me finish my water and we’ll get out of here.”
“Nooo!” He whines. “I wanna stay here and kiss you in front of everyone.”
You finish your water, turning to face Jake with a fake frown and hands on your hips.
Jake’s sage green eyes light up in delight. “You look so hot when you do that.”
You glance around the group, watching as they smirk and stifle down laughs. Eyes falling on Bradley, you smile. “Thank you for volunteering to help me bring Bagman here to his car.”
“Fuck,” Bradley mutters.
Bradley helps you grab one of Jake’s arms and pull him toward the exit, Jake talking your ear off.
“Sparroooooow,” Jake says to your left. “You’re so soft! How do you do that?”
“It’s called a shower loofah,” you chuckle.
“And you smell sooooo nice,” he goes on. On the other side of him, Bradley laughs earning him middle finger from you. “Bradshaw, Rooster my boy, leave my girl alone. She’s mine!”
Bradley looks over at you, a smirk on his mustached lips. “Oh, is she now?”
“Yup!” Jake says, lips popping at the ‘P’. “She’s mine, but she doesn’t know it…so don’t tell her.”
Jake turns to you on his right and drawls, “What’s up, Y/N?! I didn’t see you there!”
“I’ve been here the whole time,” you groan, trying to unlock his truck to put him in the passenger seat.
“Do I get to be a passenger princess tonight?” He asks Bradley.
“It looks like it, man,” Bradley laughs.
“I’m gonna be the prettiest princess ever!” Jake exclaims, causing you and Bradley to exchange looks and try to choke down your laughs.
Jake focuses on you before adding, “Actually, my Sparrow here is the prettiest princess I’ve ever met and seen.”
“Okay,” you say, hoisting yourself over Jake’s lap to cock the seatbelt in place. “Let’s get you home.”
Before you can get off his lap, Jake wraps his arms around you and pulls you close. You’ve been close to him before, but this feels different.
He’s warmer than normal—which says a lot because Jake is a furnace. His eyes are bloodshot and glossy, making his green eyes appear even more green with a mix of blue. His face is clear, save for the blush on his checks from the alcohol.
Behind you, Bradley clears his throat. You turn in time to see him take a picture of you and smile. “I just want a picture to show your future kids.”
“Bradley…” you squint.
“Our kids?!” Jake exclaims excitedly. “Are you pregnant?!”
“Bradshaw!” You scold. “Look what you started!”
Jake is crying—still holding you—and touching your belly. “I’m gonna be a daddy!”
Bradley only laughs. “Have fun, mommy!”
“I hate you,” you mutter as you scramble out of Jake’s arms and around to the driver’s seat.
———
By the time you pull into the driveway of yours and Jake’s bungalow, Jake has calmed down—and sobered up—enough to get out of his seat and walk alongside you to the front door.
The night is quiet, warm air blowing around you both like a warm blanket fresh from the dryer. You’re about to unlock the front door when you feel Jake’s eyes on you. Turning, you face him. His eyes are unreadable but his face gives himself away.
He remembers what he said fifteen minutes ago.
“Y/N,” he starts. “I’m sorry I ruined your night.”
You sigh, unlocking the door and pushing the door open. “You didn’t ruin my night.”
Jake gestures for you to enter the house first before following you inside. You feel him watching as you kick your shoes off and line them on the wall closest to the table in the entryway.
When you look up at him, you see a blush creep up his neck and ears.
“What?” You ask.
“I wasn’t lying when I said you’re the prettiest person I’d ever seen,” he whispers. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”
Now it’s your turn to blush. You weren’t a bad looking person, but you never considered yourself to be the prettiest person in the world, much less Jake’s world.
You’d watched him flirt and pick up all sorts of beautiful women for the past few years. And never once did you think he’d find you equally attractive.
“Sure, Jake,” you mutter, beginning to turn away.
He stops you, grabbing your arm and twirling you to face him. He’s pulled you close to his body, warm and muscular.
Jake tilts your head to face him before saying, “I’m serious. Why do you think I haven’t been bringing so many girls over?”
It’s been a few months since you’d seen him with any women but that never clicked in your brain until now.
“So you’re saying you haven’t brought women over because you’ve been thinking of…me?” You clarify.
“That’s exactly it.”
“You’re drunk,” you tell him. “If you remember tomorrow morning, tell me you mean it.”
To your surprise, Jake smiles down at you. “I’ll remember.”
———
The next morning, Jake is in the kitchen making you both some French toast and bacon—the scent alone waking you from your sleep.
The sight of him dancing to “The Man” by The Killers makes you want to smile. He’s so carefree around you. That’s what drew you in to him when you first met.
Sure he was flirty, but as soon as you two got to know one another, he dropped the playboy act and was just…Jake.
“Are you making french toast?” You ask, laughing when Jake practically jumps a foot in the air.
“You scared the shit out of me,” he chuckles, grabbing his chest. “And yes, I’m making french toast with bacon.”
“Extra crispy for me?” You ask, jumping to sit on the counter next to him.
“Extra crispy for you,” he replies, a smile plastered on his handsome face.
“Cool.”
You watch for a bit as he finishes up the last of the bacon and french toast, admiring the way he relaxes to the beat of the next song playing on the speaker behind him. He’s nodding his head and mouthing the song, “Rock You Like A Hurricane”, while he places some pieces of bacon on a plate.
When he glances your way, he flashes you a quick smirk before opening your legs and stepping between them.
“What’re you doing?” You ask, hesitantly placing your hands on your lap.
Jake grabs your hands, wrapping them around his neck before placing his own on your hips.
Your heart is racing, every part of your body is vibrating under his touch—his gaze really—on you.
“Y/N,” he starts, looking uneasy. “I think you’re the prettiest person I’ve ever met and seen. I think you’re the sweetest person in my life and I think—no, know—that I have feelings for you. I only realized a few months back when I saw Bradley’s arm around your waist that I don’t want other people touching you.”
“Jake—”
“Let me finish,” he interrupts with a smile. “Deep down, I think I always knew you were the woman for me. I think that’s why I always tried to distract myself with other women but now that I finally realize it…”
Jake takes a deep breath, eyes fluttering a bit before they lock on yours again.
“I’m never letting you go.”
He watches you for a second, trying to read your face and you can’t help but smile after a bit.
“Jake,” You start. “I was just gonna tell you that I feel the same way.”
The smile on Jake’s lips widens before he pulls you in for a kiss. Soft and full of joy, you kiss him back.
He pulls away to look over your face before pecking you again and saying, “Now, let’s go eat so I can have dessert after.”
“Dessert?” You ask, brows knitted. “I don’t see anything out.”
“Who said it was food?”
AHHHHHH NOBODY TOUCH ME LOL anyway… check out my Masterlist!!! 💗💗
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rafeskiss · 27 days ago
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juno ! ᥫ᭡
pairing: rafe cameron x fem! reader
word count: 980
summary: boat days with rafey make you so fucking horny<333 based on the song ‘juno’ by sabrina carpenter
warnings: no actual smut, use of y/n, mentions of pregnancy, alcohol, probably more i dont fucking know
authors note: IM BAAAACK! bringing back the short n’ sweet inspired rafe fics
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boat days with rafe were your favorite days. you didn’t have to be sexual with rafe to have fun together, and you guys had your own way of showing appreciation— which, of course, included sex some days, but you also just got each other.
your love for each other was showcased best on the druthers on hot and sticky summer afternoons. you’d be tanning and feel a lack of warmth for a second, opening your eyes to see rafe towering over you, blocking the sun. a fruity seltzer in his hand, he’d hand it to you and you’d continue tanning. you didn’t ever have to tell him what you were thinking, he just gets it.
or he’d let you apply sunscreen on him— this was a rarity. he claimed he didn’t care if he got burnt or not, and you’d always reply with something along the lines of ‘you will care when you get skin cancer in 20 years!’ so you’d stand on your tippy toes, rubbing the white substance on his face, chest, back, arms, and legs until you saw fit. this was also a perfect excuse to feel him up. you hated his father, ward, for giving him life-long daddy issues but this was one of the only times you’d thank him. God bless his dad’s genetics, because rafe cameron is one sight to see and feel under the north carolina heat. beads of sweat dotting his face and chest, small freckles appearing on his nose and how gorgeous he looked driving the boat.
today was one of those days; you in a tiny pink bikini and rafe looking particularly fuckable edible hot pretty. you watched as he steered the boat towards wherever the hell he was taking you, his grip on the steering wheel showing off his toned, muscular arms. you just about melted in your sun chair rafe layed out for you.
it was days like this where you seemed to be so in love you’d do just about anything for him. rafe was too busy steering the boat, leaving you alone in your thoughts as you soaked up the vitamin d. you often thought about your future with rafe, and rafe doesn’t talk about the future rarely ever, but you knew he’d want your touch for life. he hasn’t and probably won’t ever come out and directly say he wants to spend forever with you, but his words always allude to it.
you never take the things he says during sex seriously; he’s always grunting about putting a baby in you or telling you to never ever leave him— you wouldn’t dare— but you wonder if he really truly means it. however, this doesn’t stop you from hinting at the fact you would like this all to become a reality. he’d be picking you up to go to dinner and you’d do a little twirl, showing off your dress. he’d tell you you look great, just like always, and you’d be like ‘well, there’s actually one thing missing…’ rafe would grumble something like ‘fuck are you talkin’ bout, kid? you’re fully dressed.’ and you’d stick your left hand out to him, showing him your naked ring finger. ‘missing a rock right there.’ and he’d roll his eyes and tell you to get in the damn truck.
you hopped off the tanning chair and found your way to a mini fridge that’s always stocked with various drinks. you opted for a twisted tea and you grabbed rafe a beer. you giddily walked to find rafe who was standing by the steering wheel, one hand on it and the other glancing down at his phone.
“here ya go,” you smiled and handed him the glass bottle.
“thanks, baby.” he said while placing a kiss to your temple, turning his phone off.
you looked at his hands on the steering wheel, noticing the lack of a wedding ring on his hand. you frown, “looks so boring right here, right?” you look up at him, your finger pointing to his ring finger.
“can you just wait?” he scolded.
“i just think this day would be even more perfect with a mini us running around!” you declared, looking around the boat imagining a tiny rafe or a tiny you waddling all over.
he rolled his eyes and continued steering the boat.
“like, one of me is cute but two though?”
rafe laughed, “are you ovulating or something? holy shit,”
you smiled and planted a kiss on his cheek, “can’t help it.”
“jus’… gimme time, baby.” he muttered before taking a sip of his beer.
so maybe having a baby at 19 wasn’t the best idea. but there were far worse things you could be doing with your life! rafe has enough money to support you and the baby until the end of time, including your retail therapy and regular therapy, so what is so wrong with that?
“give me one good reason why we can’t have a baby right now.” you said, crossing your arms which only made rafe take this conversation less serious because his eyes were immediately drawn to your tits.
rafe smirked, “shit, i dunno. i will say, your tits would be massive with a little baby in you.”
you gasped, “so you do wanna have a baby!”
“never said that.” he sniffed.
rolling your eyes you said, “whatever. god forbid i want a future with you!” you stormed off leaving rafe behind you.
of course, rafe didn’t want to hurt your feelings so he apologized very thoroughly later. he made sure to tell you that he did want a future with you, but he wants you to enjoy your young adulthood before potentially wrecking your life and freedom by bringing a baby into the world. in response to this, you stuck your tongue out at him.
“see, who needs a fucking baby when we got you around?” he said teasingly.
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TAGLIST (reply to my tag list post to be added)
@xcinnamonmalfoyx @neediestpuppy @ethanthequeefqueen @maybankslover @pankowblues @drewsphswife @wearemadeofstardust0
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yellowharrington · 9 months ago
Text
save a horse (ride a cowboy!) -- joel miller x reader
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pairing + fandom: joel miller x reader, the last of us (hbo)
word count: 3.9k
warnings/notes: smut and porn!!! minors DNI, 18+!!! no outbreak!au. she/her pronouns used, afab!reader (with mentions of body parts), no use of y/n. age gap (joel is at least 10 years older). drinking (both reader and joel), unprotected PIV, oral (f receiving), spanking, dirty talk, car sex. if i missed anything lmk!
a/n: recommended listening: save a horse (ride a cowboy) by big & rich. honourable mention to austin by dasha bc it's been on repeat. please take the time to leave comments/reblog if you liked it <3 thank u for reading!! divider by @cafekitsune
summary: meeting an older man at the bar and spontaneously fucking him in his truck was not on your list of things to do for your first summer back in austin, but what can you do?
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You hate going dancing.
Sweaty clubs with bodies brushing up against one another, sticky with the hot summer heat, confined to the walls of a crowded bar and beer sticking to the bottom of your shoes. Not the way you plan to spend your first Saturday night back in Austin for the summer, but Maddy is so convincing, your hand clasped around yours, a pleading look in her eyes. 
“I promise. It’s so fun. We’ll invite Kaylee and Erin and it’ll be a whole thing.”
You rolled your eyes at her, slipping your hand out from between hers. “Fine. One drink, one dance.”
She squealed with excitement and clapped her hands together, stepping up from the small cafe table. “We can pregame at mine. Wear that black top you have.”
You nod, thinking of the top in question. A corseted black thing that didn’t leave much to the imagination, breasts spilling out of the stop beneath the tight stitching. You think it probably got shoved to the back of your closet somewhere.
~
Joel hates going dancing.
Well, he doesn’t hate dancing. He just isn’t good at it, and hasn’t gone since his very early twenties. And he certainly would not be interested in spending the evening with Tommy at a country bar in downtown Austin, surrounded by women who would grimace at a pair of old men taking up a table.
But Tommy is convincing, hands gesturing around him annoyingly, until Joel gives in. “Fine. One drink. Then I’m leavin’.”
“This city is swarming with beautiful women,” Tommy says, knocking back another sip of his hot coffee. “And you’re too holed up inside to meet any of ‘em.”
“I like my own company,” Joel starts, bringing his own coffee mug to the sink. “Some of us are happy by ourselves.”
Tommy snorts, a hand clapping onto Joel’s shoulder. “Keep tellin’ yourself that, big shot. We’ll see when there’s a bunch of hotties in front of ya, then you can tell me that you like being alone.”
Joel gags at his use of the word ‘hotties’, and pulls his work boots on. “I can still change my mind, ya know.”
Night falls over the suburbs of Austin, taking the sunshine but leaving the humid, sweet heat in the air. You’re surrounded by your friends at Maddy’s apartment, a light pink gloss swiping across your lips. You’ve managed to dig out the top she had mentioned earlier, tied in a tight bow at the back. Your dark jeans hit just below it, letting slivers of smooth skin show, which somehow seemed sluttier than the fact your boobs were practically falling out of the top. Your jeans outlined the plump curve of your ass, a pair of dark cowboy boots adorning your calves. The last time you’d dressed like this was a long time ago, so it felt a little foreign, but not uncomfortable.
The cab ride to the bar is eventful, with 4 girls singing along to the songs on the radio at the top of your lungs. You were already a drink or two deep, having done some brightly coloured shot at Maddy’s house, taking it without thinking. You still weren’t planning on doing anything insane tonight, and bar drinks were expensive, so this was probably the best it was going to get for you.
The car pulls up to the bar and waits for you all to pour out, flashing your IDs to the bouncer, sliding inside past the thrums of people already inside. The bar was almost full, dance floor packed, drinks being poured by every bartender. Neon signs and amber lamps served as the only lighting for the establishment, already making things feel fuzzy around the edges for you.
Joel sits at a rickety wooden table in the corner of the bar with Tommy, scratching the wet label off of his beer bottle. He had fished out a plaid t-shirt from his closet, his usual jeans taught across his thighs and a pair of nicer boots than his work ones on his feet. His hair was pushed back, curls still lapping at the nape of his neck and curves of his ear. He was noticeably older than the other patrons of the bar, painfully aware of that fact, he felt rather uncomfortable. Tommy didn’t seem to mind, feet tapping at the beer-washed hardwood. “Stop lookin’ so mad,” he remarks, close to Joel’s ear. “You’ll scare ‘em all away.”
There are groups of people pouring in from outside, bachelorette parties and frat boys, making Joel feel unbelievably out of place. It was hard to lighten up when he wasn’t sure exactly what he was doing here.
The doors open once more, your group of friends pushing their way through the sea of people, hand in hand. Joel notices, one girl in a cowboy hat, one in denim jean cutoffs, one with a big belt buckle that glints pink against the light. 
Then he notices you.
His face softens as you follow behind your friends, as they push to the front of the line for a drink. He’s got 10 years on you, easy, but that doesn’t stop his cock twitching against the zipper of his suddenly too-tight jeans.
Soft curves, a top that fits you just right, and jeans that accentuate the dips and lines of your body. You’ve got warm energy, a bright smile adorning your glossed lips. 
You barely even notice him, until you turn around and make eye contact, your shining eyes meeting his. He’s too handsome for his own good, biceps and shoulders pressed tight against the sleeves of his shirt. He’s got his thighs spread across the chair he’s sitting in, towards you, almost like he wants you to come and just sit right on his lap.
You offer a small smile across the dim bar, taking your drink and following your friends to the last open table they’d spotted. A high top, back to the stranger now, giving him the opportunity to see your shape. He swears you’re sticking your ass out on purpose, so he can see the soft skin where your jeans meet the bottom of your top. 
“Joel,” Tommy’s voice cuts through the bustle of the bar. “If you’re gonna be so fuckin’ miserable, we can go. There’s another place-“
Joel stops him, teetering his beer towards his brother. “This is fine. We can stay for another round.”
You pull yourself away from the group after finishing your round of sugary drinks and shots, your head beginning to buzz. “I’ll get the next ones,” you giggle, pushing yourself out of your seat and steadying yourself on the ground. “Green tea shots?” The girls hoot and holler back to you, as you turn on your heels towards the crowded bar. 
Joel gets up, almost looking panicked, when he sees that you’re leaving your group. He downs the rest of his beer and tips his head towards Tommy, as if to ask, “another?”. Tommy nods and sits back in his chair, continuing to observe. Joel makes a beeline, able to slide right beside you in line.
You can smell the cologne and laundry detergent on his clothes while he stands behind you, shuffling on his feet. You can almost feel his nerves, radiating off of his large form. 
He can smell your perfume and shampoo, it’s intoxicating. 
Joel is served first, the bartender leaning forward to listen to his request. “Two Buds, and uh,” you feel a soft hand on your shoulder. If you couldn’t see that it was him, someone would have a black eye.
“What are you drinkin’, darlin’?”
His voice is sweet like honey as he dips down to be so unbelievably close to your ear, his hand now on the side of your arm. Heat spreads up your neck at his proximity. 
“Oh, I’m getting like 4 shots, you don’t have to-“
“What kinda shots?”
“Uh, green tea. Green tea shots.”
“And four green tea shots.”
The bartender nods as Joel slides his cash across the bar, turning, and looking down at you slightly. You feel impossibly small in that moment.
“You really did not have to do that, thank you.” You’re on your tip toes, a hand pressed against his chest now, lips as close to his ear as you can get. 
He shivers. He can’t remember the last time someone was this close to him in this way. 
“No problem,” he waves it off, taking the two beers by the neck of the bottle and moving over slightly for you to grab the shots. 
Your ass brushes across the front of his jeans, and he knows it’s intentional.
“Thanks again for the drinks,” and you’ve disappeared back into the crowd in a second.
Oh. Nevermind.
He can’t help but feel a little dejected, slinking back to his seat with Tommy and passing him his beer. “Struck out, huh?”
“Shut up.”
Joel watches your table still, annoyed, but not entirely surprised. Pretty stupid of him to think you’d want to fraternize with a man such as himself, so much older than you. Maybe he’d come off too strong?
His head is all but hanging in his hands when he watches you get up again, your friends coming along with you. He averts his eyes in embarrassment, not noticing that you’re making your way over to his table.
Tommy notices.
“Ladies!” He draws out, hands thrown up in the air. Joel looks up then, locking in eyes with you immediately.
“Didn’t think I’d leave you hanging, did ya cowboy?” A smile tugs at his lips as you extend a hand to him. “After you were so nice?”
He laughs a little, your other friend taking a hold of Tommy and pulling him towards the crowded dance floor. He’s very easily persuaded.
“Come dance with me!”
“Oh, I’m not a dancer,” he laughs, warm and honeyed. It makes heat pool in your core.
“Neither am I. Come anyways.”
All he can do is obey, taking your hand and letting you lead him away from the table. 
~
The music pulses under your feet as you end up in a tight line, shoulder to shoulder. He can’t stop looking at you, leaning down to speak into your ear. 
“I wasn’t kiddin’ when I said I didn’t know how to dance,” he explains, and his breath is hot against the curve of your ear.
“Don’t worry, you’ll get it when we start goin’. Just follow me.”
And I saddle up my horse
And I ride into the city
I make a lot of noise
Cause the girls
They are so pretty
Joel’s eyes are parked on your body as you start to move along to the steps of the line dance, feet tapping against the hard wood of the floor beneath you. Your hands are up by your face, clapping along to the beat. He tries to follow along, at least stepping in the right direction, clapping at the right time, but it’s no use.
Your body is insatiable - hips rolling to the pounding music. The curves and lines of your ass, paired with the soft tissue of your breasts nearly busting out of the top you chose to wear. Your skin is supple, shining against the dance floor lights that are favouring him right now as he lets a red blush engulf the skin of his cheeks and neck. 
He wonders what it looks like underneath, peeled off and bunched up around your ankles, or thrown on the floor of his bedroom. He thinks of fingering the ties of your shirt, loosening them and pushing it off, his hand across the front of your throat as he makes you look at yourself. How pretty you are. Goosebumps spread across the exposed skin of his arm.
You grab his hand suddenly, and he’s taken out of his daydream. Your eyes are fiery as you let yourself get even closer to him, feeling bold enough to put his hand across the small of your back.
“Follow me,” you command, as he looks down at the footwork you’re doing along to the song.
Riding up and down Broadway
On my old stud Leroy
And the girls say
Save a horse, ride a cowboy!
He attempts to follow it again, egged on by the feeling of your hot skin against his thumb. He could honestly maybe cum just from this touch alone if he really tried.
It’s not actually as hard as he thought, if he concentrates. A few steps, repeated over and over again, until it comes naturally. You notice how easily he picks it up, smiling up at him, beaming up while he’s lost in thought. 
The song picks up, and the whole floor is enthralled by the dance. You see Joel’s smile light up the room, and he hasn’t dared to move his hand from your back. You don’t mind.
When your body turns toward his, he halts before almost running into you, still following the steps along to the song.
“Do you wanna get out of here?”
Your words take him by surprise, but they are not unwelcome. 
“Yes.” His hand envelops yours as he takes a look at Tommy, seeing that he’s still in the throws of the song with your friends.
Your hand leads him off the dance floor and towards the club bathroom, but he stops you, lips close to your ear again. “My truck is parked out back, if we want, a little more, um,” he clears his throat, “privacy.”
“Show me the way,” you smile, letting him pull you out the doors and into the darkness of the parking lot. 
He fishes for his keys nervously when you get to the side of his truck, an older model with blue paint. He can’t remember the last time he did anything like this, if he ever has, and it’s getting to his head.
“Let’s get in the back seat,” you say, taking him out of his trance. “Wanna feel you.”
He lets you in first, pushing across the bench seating as he slides in beside you. There’s a moment of awkwardness, before your hand reaches out to touch his denim-clad thigh. His breath hitches.
“Relax,” your smile is intoxicating to him, and he’s drinking you in. “We’re just here to have a little fun.”
He lets himself lurch forward, your lips pressed against his fervently. They’re rough and chapped, but cold from the beer he’d been nursing earlier, offering you some reprieve. 
Your hand snakes up his chest to the side of his throat, pulling him in to come closer and delve deeper. His tongue comes out to lick across your teeth and press against the soft wetness of your tongue, as his hand comes up to palm your breasts over your top, grabbing at any flesh he can get his fingers on. 
He quickly and deftly finds the bow Maddy had tied on the back, pulling it loose and letting the fabric relax so you he could pull it off of your form.
His hands began to explore the soft skin of your breasts, sucking a nipple into his mouth as you arch into him and let a strained moan come from your lips.
“Fuck,” is all you can think to say, because his large hands are spread across your back, forcing you closer, and into him. Soft moans escape your lips as you let him take what he needs from you.
“Off,” he commands suddenly, hooking his fingers into the belt loops of your jeans and yanking them down, after you pop the button and undo the zipper. Your boots have come off at some point in the tussle, and now you’re naked in the back seat of a stranger’s car with not much to say for yourself.
You push his flannel down his shoulders as his weight hovers over you, revealing how strong he really is. Rippling biceps beneath his tight shirt, strong chest, kind eyes. 
You’re lying beneath him, when his hands come up under your thighs to push them apart and expose your pussy to him. He kneels between your soft thighs, thankful for the dark night sky around him, as he delves into your heat with his warm tongue.
You see stars when he makes first contact, a broad stripe of his tongue sending you into space. He’s hungry for it, immediately suckling onto your clit and wrapping his lips around it, strong hands still pushing your thighs apart. He’s taking his time to taste you, wild and intricate, feeling the bulge in his jeans strain against the zipper.
“Oh, fuck,” you manage to get out, in between breathless moans. Your hand came down to tangle in his hair, feeling the soft locks between your fingers, enjoying the way he’s making your hips roll onto his face. You can’t help but rut against him, soaking his wet mouth with your slick, using him to get yourself off.
He’s moaning into your pussy, working his own now-free cock in one of his hands, while the other delves two fingers into your core. Your breath catches in your throat when he fills you, stretching you open and wide for him, hitting the perfect spot to make your stomach start to spasm as you threatened to unravel beneath him.
“Fuck, so good, so so good,” you laugh breathlessly, the ecstasy beginning to take over as he continued to work your pussy, and you felt the familiar white-hot feeling along the back of your thighs.
“I’m gonna, — oh my god,” you couldn’t even finish your sentence before he was tonguing at you harder, eyes flickering up to watch you. “I’m gonna fucking come.”
“Good girl,” he growls into you, only offering you momentary reprieve from his tongue before using the rest of his energy to help you ride out your orgasm on his face. Your hips bucked and spasmed against him, the windows fogging up with your hot breath as you fucked yourself on his fingers. He let you pull on his hair as moans tumbled from your lips, breathless and spent.
When you managed to come down, he took his fingers from inside you and pumped his cock a few times, now bobbing in between the two of you as he slid himself up your body to kiss up your chest and capture your soft lips into a kiss.
“Sit back,” you whispered, pushing on his chest to bring him back sitting upright. His jeans were pooled around his ankles now, and you had pulled his t-shirt over his head to meet the other clothes on the floor of the truck. You positioned yourself across his lap, pumping his cock a few times and feeling the girth around your fingers.
He looked blissed out, head against the headrest, savouring the feeling of your pretty hand around him. If he looked down between your two bodies he might come right then, at the sight. 
“You did so much work, baby,” you coo, sitting down on his thick cock and bottoming out immediately, just to watch his lips fall open and eyes flutter close at how tight you are. “Made me cum so easy.”
Your lips latch onto his neck as you kiss and lap at the rough skin, letting your hips rock back and forth, slowly at first. Getting used to his length inside of you would’ve been tough if he hadn’t opened you up so easily beforehand. 
“Move,” his hands come to your waist, lightly forcing you to grind down on his lap. His cock was hitting inside of you so perfectly as you swallowed him into your body, looking down as his head lulled back against the seat. “So fuckin’ pretty,” he started, letting you set the pace of your hips, hand coming up to paw at your breast once more.
“You like this cock, don’t you?” You nod, letting your hand come to the seat behind his head and steadying yourself before beginning to bounce in his lap. “Yeah, fuck, yeah I do.”
He’s in his element now, any and all shyness from the newness of the situation melting away as he pounded into you mercilessly. The truck was no doubt shaking back and forth a little, a steadying hand print the only window to the outside world. Joel didn’t even care if people could see, they’d just be jealous.
“I’m gonna, fuck-,” he starts, eyes cloudy at the edges, vision fuzzy as he looked up at you. You were fucked out, cock-drunk on him, watching as he was coming undone underneath you as you squeezed around him. “Oh yeah?” You tease, not letting up on the rhythm of your hips, his hand coming down to your ass in a firm slap.
You moaned then, arching your back into him and sitting back. “Where do you want me?”
He’s desperate to cum now. Even the thought of your pretty face beneath him, taking his hot ropes on your soft pink lips is making him jerk forward into you with need.
He pushes you off, and you wince from the loss of contact. He’s fisting his cock above you right away, pink tip ready to explode any second at the sight of you, tits pressed together. Your mouth is open, and he sticks his fingers in between your lips as you moan around them, tasting yourself.
“Cum all over me,” you start, pinching your nipples with your free hand. “Fuck, I want it.”
It’s enough for his knees to buckle and hot cum to shoot all over your stomach and tits, painting you white with his seed. His eyes squeeze shut as you watch him ride his orgasm out, balls emptying onto you as he slows down and regains consciousness, taking a second to drink you in when he can open his eyes again. 
Your breath is heaving as you take a finger to swipe some of his cum onto your finger, dipping the digit into your mouth. His brows furrow together as he pulls you up to kiss your lips, devouring you, hands coming up to each side of your face as if to thank you for such a good time.
“Been a while since I did anything like that,” he laughs, and you follow shyly. “You got like, a napkin?” You giggle, as he grabs something in the front seat for you to clean up with. “Thanks. That was fun.”
He nods in agreement, catching his breath before pulling his t-shirt over his head. “I suppose we should go back in there,” he checks his appearance in the rearview mirror, all blushed and fucked out. 
You put your top back on over your body, turning towards him. “Can you lace me back up, please?”
His hands begin to work at you, tightening a bow at the bottom much like it had been done before.
A thought crossed your mind that made a giggle escape your lips. “What?” Joel asked, amused, pulling his jeans back on over his hips. 
“I don’t think I ever got your name.”
He laughs too, thinking of the events that had transpired given neither of you knew such a basic piece of information. 
“I guess we can stick with cowboy.”
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