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witchywithwhiskey · 3 months

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a gift for the bar owner

pairings: dark trucker!ari levinson x female reader, soft!dark bar owner!curtis everett x female reader

summary: for curtis's birthday, ari gives you to him for the night.

warnings: 18+ content (minors do not interact!!!), smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, drunk sex, intoxication, rough sex, oral object insertion (f receiving), masturbation (m), cumshot, exhibitionism, sadism/masochism, painplay, rough body play, biting, free use, heavy objectification, heavy degradation, humiliation kink, salirophilia (kink for ruining someone's appearance/dirtying them up), somnophilia, cock warming, dirty talk, praise kink, daddy kink (only with ari), pet names (bambi, baby, kiddo), possessive behavior, aftercare, a couple mean hot men—let me know if i missed anything!!!

word count: 7.9k

a/n: ok so i have no excuse for this except i saw a gif of a girl getting wine poured over her face/chest and i wondered who of my characters would do that. and apparently the answer is dive bar owner curtis. so here we are. also please note that this little fic takes place after the chapter of trucker king where curtis and lloyd will be properly introduced so no, you're not supposed to know what exactly reader's tattoo is and yes, i will be revealing that in due time.

trucker king masterlist ● trucker au masterlist

Since Curtis Everett was one of Ari Levinson’s oldest friends—and one of the few people he trusted—your trucker decided that the perfect gift to give his friend for his birthday was you. A whole night where you were nothing more than Curtis’s free use fuck toy.

The only condition was that Curtis had to follow the same rules Ari had set the last time he’d let his friend use you—no kissing, no permanent marks, and no coming inside you. Curtis had quickly agreed, and the plans were set.

Ari hadn’t asked you whether you wanted to be gifted to Curtis for his birthday, but you still thought it was a great idea.

After all, Curtis worked so hard running Everett’s Roadhouse, the dive bar just off the highway that was frequented by Ari and plenty of other truckers, and he deserved a night of having his own personal fuck toy to use however he wanted. It was his birthday, and he didn’t have a girl of his own, so you didn’t mind stepping in for the night.

In fact, after the evening you’d spent with Curtis and Ari’s other oldest friend, Lloyd Hansen—when your trucker had given them permission to use you however they wanted in exchange for some favors—you were excited to be Curtis’s birthday gift. You’d liked the big, grumbling bar owner, and you wanted to make his birthday special.

As part of his gift, Ari had let Curtis pick out what you’d wear. So you strolled into Everett’s Roadhouse on the night of Curtis’s birthday wearing the sweetest little sundress you owned—and nothing else besides the shoes on your feet.

The dress was a bright white cotton with little flowers dotted all over it, and short enough to swirl around your upper thighs. The sweet little garment was at odds with your surroundings in the dive bar, which were grimy and dirty, lit by dim lightbulbs and flickering neon beer signs. It made you stand out immediately.

As soon as you entered the bar, every man in the establishment turned to look at you, their gazes ranging from drunken interest to greedy hunger. Even with Ari at your side, his posessive hand on your lower back, they couldn’t seem to drag their covetous eyes away from you, like you were an oasis in the desert.

It took you a moment to understand the attention, but when you did, a delicious tremor of excitement raced down your spine—you were the only woman in the whole building. The bar was closed for Curtis’s private party, and the only people in attendance were his friends, who were all rough-looking men that you presumed were mostly truckers or old friends like Ari.

You wondered, not for the first time since Ari had told you his plans for his friend’s birthday, what exactly Curtis would do with you. You knew Ari’s rules would save you from anything too unpleasant, but there was so much they didn’t cover. The possibilities of how Curtis might use you made your pussy tingle with anticipation.

Ari’s hand was firm on your lower back as he guided you further into the bar, your wedge sandals sticking slightly to the filthy wooden floors of the roadhouse. The gazes of all the men you walked past slid over your bare skin like oil, the sensation settling heavily between your thighs, where a sensual warmth bloomed.

That warmth only grew the closer you got to Curtis, who stood half a head taller than any man in the bar. The imposing bear of a man was leaning against the bartop, talking with someone about something, his broad shoulders and thick biceps stretching the limits of his black t-shirt. Curtis’s blue eyes were bright in the dingy lights of the bar, contrasting against his pale skin, dark beard and shorn hair.

When you finally arrived at the circle of men gathered around Curtis, Ari gave you a shove through the crowd and you stumbled toward the bar owner. It was only when Curtis fumbled to catch you in his arms—the stench of beer thick on his breath—that you realized he was already so drunk, he could barely stand, and that was why he’d been leaning against the bar.

“Hey there, bambi,” he slurred, his arms loosely circling your waist. His hands slid down to grope your ass, but Curtis must’ve forgotten he was still holding a beer, because you felt it tip. A second later, cold liquid spilled over the plush curves of your ass.

Instinctively, you squealed his name, “Curtis!” The cold beer was running down the valley between your cheeks, making you squirm in his arms. You tried to get away from the spilling liquid, but you ended up pressing closer to Curtis’s massive, burly chest, practically climbing the tall man with your fingers fisting in his t-shirt and your body plastering to his.

Thankfully, Curtis didn’t mind in the least. He managed to right his beer and chuckled, looking down at you fondly, his mouth curled in a devastating smirk even as his eyes were hazy with drink. The alcohol seemed to have softened Curtis’s rough edges, and he appeared almost warm—nothing like the grumbling man you’d met previously.

“Damn, bambi, ya just got here,” he said, loud enough for the men closest to him to hear. “And yer already trying to jump on my dick like some kind of slut, huh?” He chuckled darkly and his friends joined in, making heat creep up your neck and fill your cheeks.

But you didn’t deny it.

Instead, you recovered yourself quickly, forgetting the beer still plastering your dress to your ass and pressed closer to Curtis. Wrapping your arms around his neck and pushing your tits against his broad chest, you enjoyed the way his eyes dipped lazily down to your low-cut neckline.

“I’m yours for the night, big man,” you purred, your body warming and responding to being pressed so tight against Curtis’s muscled chest. It wasn’t difficult to let a seductive smile curl your lips. “You can do anything you want with me.”

A grin spread slowly across Curtis’s face, the expression lecherous on his handsome features as he leered down at you.

Before he responded, though, his gaze shifted over your shoulder, and he gave a quick nod. You knew without looking the gesture was meant for Ari—an acknowledgement that Curtis remembered your trucker’s rules and understood he couldn’t do anything. But close enough.

Curtis’s free hand groped your ass hard as he turned to the crowd, taking a swig of his beer before calling out to his friends.

“Didja hear that fellas?” he crowed, his excited energy riling up the throng of men, all of whom seemed to be as drunk or drunker than Curtis. “Ari’s little cock slut said I get to do anything I want with her tonight!”

A cheer rose up from the crowd, men all around you raising their glasses in the air while they yelled so loud it felt like a physical cloud of excitement. The energy was infectious, an eager grin curving your lips as you looked around at all the truckers and degenerates who were celebrating your objectification as a free use fuck toy.

Out of curiosity, you turned to look for Ari among them. You found your trucker standing still and quiet, watching you, a glass of amber liquid in one hand. His arms were crossed over his broad chest and he wore a devious little smirk on his face that had your body warming with arousal. Even though he wasn’t joining in on the deafening cheer, you knew he was just as excited by the prospect of seeing you used by Curtis as everyone else.

Before Ari could direct you to look back at Curtis, the big man you were plastered against got your attention with his next words, shouted to the crowd.

Curtis had waited until the cheering died down a little to ask, “So what should I do with her first?”

Obscene suggestions were hurled at you and Curtis, men’s voices blending into a cacophony of depravity. The things the crowd wanted Curtis to do to you ranged so wildly from nearly tame to absolutely vile that it made your head spin. Ari’s rules would prevent the worst of the suggestions, but not everything that Curtis’s friends were calling out, and you wondered with a twisted shiver of excitement what your trucker’s friend would pick to do to you.

“POUR YOUR BEER ON HER!”

Curtis’s whole body turned to the voice that had called out that last suggestion, dragging you along with him since your arms were still looped around his neck, his hand still holding your ass. Curtis pointed at his friend with his beer, some of it sloshing onto the floor with the fervor of the gesture.

“Now that’s an idea,” he shouted to the man in the crowd you couldn’t see. Curtis tipped his beer in his friend’s direction then took a swig. He looked down at where you were still pressed against his chest, your body hanging from where your arms were holding onto him. “Get on your knees, bambi.” His voice was rolling thunder, so deep and dark, it sent tiny, pleasurable zaps of lightning through your nervous system.

The speed with which you detached yourself from Curtis and dropped to your knees had the men all around you whistling in appreciation. You heard more than a few of them mutter things like, “What a good, well-trained slut,” and “Gotta get me a girl like that.”

You preened and beamed with pride at the praise, finding Ari in the crowd again and hoping your behavior reflected well on him. He’d been the one to train you to follow orders so well, after all.

Your trucker gave you a small nod of recognition that made happiness burst in your chest, and you turned back to Curtis with a happy bounce of your hips. You couldn’t help but notice the low groans that came as a result of the little movement and you smiled wider.

The wooden floor was sticky beneath your bare knees, but you paid it no mind. You suspected—and you’d turn out to be right—that you’d be dirtier and filthier than even the floor of Everett’s Roadhouse before the night was through. The excitement you felt made you bounce again, making your sweet little sundress flutter around your thighs.

Curtis’s eyes watched the hem of your dress hungrily, seemingly distracted by the movement until he shook himself and remembered what he was doing. Raising his beer, Curtis let the crowd cheer for a moment while you waited with anticipation. From your spot on the floor, Curtis looked even bigger and more intimidating, which made something low in your belly quiver with excitement, heat gathering between your thighs as your thoughts skated away.

A growled question from your trucker’s friend brought you back to the moment.

“Ya ready, bambi?”

Your hands were laying lightly on your thighs, your knees spread on the floor. You were more than ready, and at Curtis’s question, you tossed your head back and pushed your tits out, giving him a challenging smirk as you purred, “Gimme what ya got, big man.”

A half feral grin spread across Curtis’s face, and then he was tipping his bottle toward you, cold beer splashing over your face mere seconds after you shut your eyes. The pungent liquid rolled down your cheeks and slid down your neck, soaking the front of your white dress.

You could feel the fabric clinging to your skin, the white cotton no doubt becoming see-through as it was soaked in beer. Your nipples puckered and hardened against the flimsy material, putting on a show for Curtis and the crowd of men around you.

The bar owner emptied the bottle over your face and the front of your body, the beer getting in your mouth and nose, rivulets streaming down over your tits and between your spread thighs. It dripped to the floor beneath you, creating a small puddle on the sticky wooden boards.

All around you, men cheered loudly and lewdly, urging Curtis to degrade you as the filthy slut you were. You grinned at the attention, loving every second of it and knowing that the men were only allowed to witness what Curtis was doing because Ari allowed it. Because Ari had given you to his friend for his birthday, and this was what Curtis had decided to do with you.

When the beer stopped flowing, you fluttered your eyes open, blinking the alcohol from your vision as you stared up into Curtis’s darkened blue eyes. You knew you must look a mess. You’d worn makeup that wouldn’t hold up to such an onslaught, and you had no doubt that your black mascara was streaming down your cheeks and adding to the wreckage of your face. But the way Curtis looked at you made you think he liked it—a lot.

“Edgar, gimme another beer!” Curtis called, keeping his gaze locked on you, his blue eyes dipping down to take in the sight of your beer-stained dress.

The slip of fabric was sticking to your skin and it had become see-through where it had gotten wet. But it wasn’t drenched yet, and you could tell from the glint in Curtis’s eye that he wouldn’t stop until it bared you entirely. Excitement fizzed through you, and you bounced your hips while you waited impatiently for Curtis’s command to be met.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw one of the bartenders open a new bottle of beer and pass it into Curtis’s big, waiting hand. Neither you nor the bar owner took your eyes off each other, and it made the moment all the more intense. For all that you had an audience to your degradation, in that moment, you were there for Curtis, and only Curtis. You were his, if only temporarily, and he seemed to relish that knowledge just as much as you did.

“Ya thirsty, bambi?” he asked, some of the drunken slurring leeching out of his tone as he grinned lecherously down at you. His gaze broke away from you and he looked around at the men gathered close but not touching you, his eyes sparkling with depravity when he met yours again. “Ya want some more?’

Your heart was racing with excitement, the awareness of having so many men watching you thrumming deliciously beneath your skin; you couldn’t help the way your hips bounced with eagerness as you nodded quickly. “Yes, please,” you said sweetly, biting your lip to stop from grinning too wide up at your trucker’s friend.

Curtis’s eyes darkened with sinful intent and you felt yourself growing wet. But the dampness between your thighs had nothing to do with the beer Curtis had poured on you, and everything to do with the fact that you were so turned on by the way he was treating you. And all the while, you could feel your trucker’s eyes on you, a reminder that you were Ari’s and he’d given you to Curtis as a gift.

“Stick your tongue out,” Curtis rumbled, a thread of steel in his voice that made you shiver. In that moment, he reminded you of the grumbling man you’d met when Ari first introduced you to his friends, and you realized you’d missed that side of him. “Show all my friends what a good little slut you are.”

If you could’ve followed the order and smiled at the same time, you would’ve. Instead, you had to settle for submitting to Curtis’s command, sticking your tongue out as far as possible and tipping your head back, letting him see down your throat.

It was an invitation for him to give you more, to give you all he had, and the entire bar knew it. The men surrounding you roared their approval while Curtis offered you a pleased little smirk. It was the nicest he’d ever looked and it nearly made you smile, but you held your position.

“That’s it, open wide, slut,” Curtis encouraged in a low, roughened voice, depraved delight sparking in his blue gaze as he degraded you on the floor of his bar.

The look in his eye and the tenor of his tone made you quiver. Your pussy throbbed more insistently with need the longer you stayed on your knees and submitted to the degradation the bar owner offered. But you channeled that desire into opening your mouth wider, sticking your tongue out a little bit further, catching the approving smirk that flickered at the corners of Curtis’s mouth.

The bar owner nodded at you, took a sip of his new beer, and then, with no other preamble, he tipped the brown bottle over your face, showering you in the bitter liquid.

With your lips open and tongue out, plenty of the beer splashed into your mouth and you swallowed it down as best you could. Despite your best efforts, you choked and gagged a little, tears slipping from your eyes to join the rest of the mess on your face as you endured Curtis’s treatment.

The men in the crowd jeered as you struggled beneath the degrading pour of Curtis’s beer, but he shifted his hand, the cold liquid moving to pour down the front of your body. The stream seemed endless and you could feel the beer soaking into your dress until the entire front of the garment was drenched.

By the time the bottle was empty, you felt half drowned, gulping down air as the beer you’d swallowed sloshed around in your belly. Your head was a little dizzy, and you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or the lack of air, but you swayed a little on your knees, glancing down to find that the entire front of your dress was see-through, your tits and puckered nipples on full display for everyone to see.

At the sight of yourself, your pussy throbbed, your inner walls clenching pathetically around nothing as desire blazed through your body. When you looked up at Curtis, you were certain he could see your arousal in every line of your expression, and he smirked, the expression sharp on his handsome face.

“Y’know, bambi, your dress is a little dirty,” Curtis rumbled, as if he hadn’t been the one to sully it in the first place. But you didn’t care about that, you only cared about the anticipation building in your body. You knew Curtis was leading somewhere and you couldn’t wait for him to get there. “I can’t let you walk around my bar like that, dripping beer everywhere.”

It escaped no one that Curtis’s dive bar was plenty dirty already and a few drops of beer wouldn’t make it much worse, but a cheer rose from the crowd as they caught on to the fact that Curtis was planning something. You bounced slightly on your knees, pouting up at the bar owner and trying to look abashed, biting your lip against a grin.

“What’re you gonna do about it, big man?” you asked sweetly.

Curtis gave you a half-feral grin, the expression more snarl than anything else, and it was your only warning.

Faster than you would’ve thought possible for the big, drunk man, Curtis stooped down and slipped his hands into the neck of your dress, his rough fingers grazing your soft flesh. You let out a quiet little moan that you were certain only Curtis could hear, making him pause for a brief second, his eyes fluttering closed. But then his hands were moving again, yanking on your dress.

In a split second, Curtis ripped your dress right down the center. You gasped loudly as your tits were bared to the crowd of men in the bar, the sound loud in the moment of stunned silence. Your breasts bounced free of their confines, your nipples hardening and revealing to the whole room how much you were enjoying Curtis’s rough treatment.

The cheer that broke out at your nakedness was so loud, it made your ears ring. It also drowned out the sound of rending fabric as Curtis tore the shredded garment from your body, flinging it into the crowd. His eyes were heavy as they trailed down your body, your skin prickling everywhere he looked—your nipples tightening into desperate peaks and your pussy weeping from where it was nestled between your parted thighs.

Curtis’s eyes flared at the sight of the tattoo just above your slit, a reminder of who you belonged to. But you hoped it also reminded Curtis of the first night you’d met him—the night Ari had given you to both Curtis and Lloyd to use how they wanted. Your pussy dripped at the memory, and it seemed Curtis was just as affected, the big man pausing for a moment before he shook himself.

“That’s better,” Curtis muttered, his gaze lingering on your weeping pussy like he wanted to bury his bearded face against your soft cunt. Instead, he dragged his eyes back up your body, the blue of his irises darkened to the color of the midnight sky as he murmured for your ears only, “Look so fucking pretty, bambi.”

You smiled and ducked your head at the compliment, which meant more to you than the obscene catcalls and lewd cries from the crowd around you. It was a reminder of the friendship that you and Curtis shared. You may have met because he was one of your trucker’s oldest friends, but you hoped Curtis knew you thought of him as your friend too.

“Thank you,” you whispered, looking up at the bar owner from under your lashes. “Are you enjoying your birthday?”

Something resembling a grin curved the edges of Curtis’s mouth, the expression nearly hidden in his beard. His eyes slid away and looked up, and you knew without having to check that he was looking at Ari again. Before you could discern what the glance meant, though, Curtis was chucking you under the chin and saying, “I am, thanks to you, bambi.”

Your heart gave a happy little flutter, but before you could respond, Curtis was standing up and waving his arms to get the crowd to quiet down. “What d’ya think fellas, is Ari’s little cock slut dirty enough yet?”

The beer that had already been poured on you was starting to dry into a sticky, tacky layer on your skin, but your pussy dripped at the thought of Curtis wanting to make you even filthier. And it seemed his friends liked the idea as well, because they cheered so loud, it felt like the floor was shaking beneath your knees.

Edgar the bartender already had a beer open and waiting for Curtis when the big man turned to grab one. That time, the bar owner didn’t even need to command you to open your mouth and stick out your tongue—you did that all on your own. Curtis’s smirk was pleased and his blue eyes glimmered with fondness as he tipped the beer over your face, pouring the liquid down your throat and over your body to the cheers of all his friends.

For the better part of the next hour, Curtis took his time defiling you while you sat, naked and on your knees, in the center of his bar, enduring it willingly as the free use toy he’d been given for his birthday. A good amount of the alcohol that didn’t run down over your tits and splash over your pussy went down your throat, and it wasn’t long before your head began to swim.

Still, your body felt heavy with desire, your nipples tight and desperate to be played with, your cunt pulsing and aching to be filled. It was only because Curtis seemed to be having so much fun, his friends urging him on to make you dirtier and filthier, that you didn’t break down and beg him to fuck you.

But you couldn’t help the way your body was responding, your mouth falling slack at the teasing slide of liquid over your puckered nipples. If you arched your body just right, and spread your thighs wide enough, you could feel the trickle of beer over you clit, and it made a low moan slip from your mouth as your eyes fluttered closed in pleasure.

Curtis’s dark chuckle from above was your only warning. At that moment, he shoved the neck of his beer bottle into your mouth, pushing your lips wide and making you gag as your eyes flew open in surprise.

“That needy little mouth is begging to be fucked, bambi,” the bar owner growled, quickly unzipping his fly and wedging the bottom of the beer between the zipper’s teeth so he could hold your head in both hands and fuck you with the glass bottle. “Take it, cock slut, fucking take it,” he grunted obscenely.

All you could do was choke and struggle, the remainder of the beer sloshing down your throat and joining the rest in your belly. Your fingers fisted in the denim jeans encasing Curtis’s thick thighs, but you didn’t push him away. It felt good to finally have one of your holes used, even if you were being fucked by Curtis’s beer bottle instead of his cock like you’d wanted.

Your jaw hurt by the time he pulled away, your lips swollen from being wrapped around the wide glass. Your body swayed unsteadily on your knees, arousal dripping down between your thighs and joining the mess of beer on the floor. The cheers of the crowd had faded into a constant rumble, and you smile dazedly when they urged Curtis on.

Suddenly, a big bear paw of a hand was wrapping around your upper arm and you were being hauled to your feet. Blood rushed to your legs, your head swimming and lolling to the side as you tried to find your footing. But standing seemed impossible—and unimportant as arousal burned through you, making you whimper and whine desperately. You hoped someone would fuck you soon.

Curtis chuckled at your pathetic noises, the husky sound sending shivers down your spine as his lips grazed your ear. “You’re not too drunk to fuck, are ya, bambi?” he asked in a low, growly voice as he pressed his hips against you, his hard bulge digging into your belly.

When you’d first walked into Everett’s Roadhouse that night and saw the state of the bar owner, you’d thought there was no way he’d be able to fuck you with how drunk he was. But the hour spent pouring so many bottles of beer over your body instead of drinking them had sobered Curtis up enough to get hard. He was stiff and twitching and pressing into you through his jeans and you wanted him to bury his cock in you.

Your dazed smile widened into a giddy grin and you tipped your head back, blinking your eyes a few times to get your vision to focus enough to see Curtis’s face. “It’s your birfday, big man,” you said, your voice more slurring than sultry, a hiccup interrupting you and making you pause. “I’m use to yours.” Your expression scrunched into a confused pout, knowing your words weren’t right, and tried again. ��I’m yours to fuck.”

Curtis was laughing as he hauled you over to one of the pool tables off to the side of the bar, and tossed you down on the green felt. You lay limply on your back, staring up at your trucker’s tall friend while he glared at the guys who’d been playing a game on the table. Their grumbling quickly cut off and Curtis returned his attention to you.

The crowd shifted to gather around the pool table while Curtis pulled out his cock, which was just as massive as the rest of him. The thick length lay against your mound, the girth covering much of the tattoo there, the tip nearly reaching your belly button. Your inner walls clenched in anticipation of taking Curtis inside you—you couldn’t wait.

“Gimme, gimme,” you mumbled, spreading your thighs wide and pushing your pussy up against the stiff, velvet-wrapped steel of Curtis’s cock. It twitched against your mound, precum dripping onto your belly and joining the mess on your skin.

Curtis chuckled at your antics, rumbling, “Alright, bambi.” The bar owner grabbed your thighs, pushing you wide as he pulled his hips back, lining up the tip of his big cock with your entrance. Without any warning or preparation, Curtis barreled into your cunt, burying his big cock to the hilt with one thrust.

Instantly, stinging pain and scorching pleasure cut white-hot through the core of you, overwhelming your mind and leaving your body to react however it wanted. Your head was thrown back, and your lips parted to let out a piercing scream that shattered through the noise of the dive bar.

“Fuck yeah, bambi, scream for me,” Curtis groaned, his big hands kneading your thighs, fingers digging into your plush softness hard enough to hurt. He pulled your body into his, managing to grind his cock even deeper into your pussy, wrenching another, surprised shriek from your lips.

You felt like you were being split in half, pain and pleasure ricocheting through your body fast enough to make you dizzy, your drunken mind unable to tell the difference between the two. All you knew was that it was so much, so overwhelming, and your hands reached out above your head, searching for something to cling to as your mind splintered and your body trembled from the sensation of being split open on Curtis’s cock.

Two warm hands wrapped firmly around your wrists, pinning them to the rough felt of the pool table, leaving you powerless to Curtis’s massive cock. He was rocking his hips in tiny little thrusts, the tip of his length battering against your cervix and wringing helpless little whimpers from your lips as your hazy eyes searched above you for the man pinning you down—somehow knowing before your gaze collided with the familiar blue of your trucker’s eyes that it was Ari.

His face was hovering above you, upside down as he leaned over the table to catch your gaze. The edges of Ari’s features were blurred, but you would’ve recognized your trucker even if you were blackout drunk—even if you were so intoxicated you were more unconscious than not.

Ari’s face was like a star, familiar and steady, and you smiled happily up at him, your heart warming when you noticed the pride in his gaze.

“You’re doing well, baby,” Ari rumbled, his features sharp and his expression hard. But deep in the blue depths of his eyes, you could see the affection you knew he felt for you. “You’re being such a good fuck toy for daddy’s friend on his birthday.”

You giggled, squirming happily on the pool table, your face upturned to your trucker, your attention completely diverted from Curtis and his cock, even as he still fucked you. You were having fun with the bar owner, but nothing and no one would ever be able to come between you and Ari. You were his, always, and he knew it.

Ari leaned down, and you thought for a moment he was going to kiss you, but you should’ve known better. Ari’s teeth nipped the soft lobe of your ear, making you moan, before he spoke words meant only for you.

“When Curtis is done, I’m gonna fuck your filthy little cunt, kiddo, so don’t pass out,” he rumbled, the twisted promise making your cunt clench around his friend’s cock. “Or do, it doesn’t matter to me.” Ari sank his teeth into the bone at the corner of your jaw, biting you hard enough to make you cry out. “I’m gonna use your holes whether you’re awake or not.”

A helpless moan slipped from your lips, your legs spreading wider instinctively at the thought of your trucker using your cunt to get off while you lay unconscious in his bed. You smiled adoringly up at Ari, blinking your eyes slowly. It took you a moment before your swimming vision could focus on Ari’s face, and when he saw he had your attention, he jerked his chin sharply at his friend, commanding you wordlessly to look back at Curtis.

You did, following your trucker’s order immediately, finding the massive bar owner watching you and Ari with a look on his face you couldn’t quite identify. The only way you could describe it was…openly gluttonous. Curtis looked like he wasn’t merely jealous of what you and Ari had, he looked like he would’ve stolen you away from his friend if there was any chance in the universe you’d look at him the same way.

But there wasn’t, and Curtis’s expression shifted as he resigned himself for having the piece of you that Ari had given him for his birthday. It would have to be enough, because even though his cock was inside you, you were still Ari’s and Ari’s alone.

Curtis grabbed a beer off the edge of the pool table and chugged half of it. As he set it back down, he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and leaned over you, his big hands grabbing your thighs again, his fingers digging in hard enough to bruise.

The pain only made your arousal flare hotter and you smiled up at your trucker’s friend, murmuring, “Happy birthday, big man.”

“Thank you, bambi,” he muttered, low enough that you knew it was just for you. Then a smirk spread across Curtis’s face, his eyes lighting with filthy desire. “Now, scream if my dick’s too big for your tight little cunt, ya filthy slut.”

With that, Curtis pulled out until only the tip of his cock remained in your grasping channel, then he slammed inside you. Even with your body having adjusted to the sheer size of him, his hard, brutal thrust pulled a scream from your throat, your back arching up off the table and your wrists pulling against Ari’s hold.

Curtis laughed loudly as the crowd cheered, the big bar owner setting a ferocious pace as he fucked you hard enough that you knew you were going to be sore for days. But you loved it. You loved the pain and the pleasure and the roaring of the crowd as Curtis fucked you in front of all his friends.

You loved the way Ari’s hands held your arms pinned above your head, how it bared your tits to Curtis, who bent over your body to finally suck on your aching nipples. You loved the way Curtis’s beard rasped against your skin, making you shiver as your pussy clenched hard around his thick cock.

Your mind floated deliriously through the waves of pleasure and pain crashing over your body. You felt drunk on cock and alcohol, not knowing how much time passed as Curtis fucked you, but it seemed to go on forever. Your body was wound so tight for so long, you reached a point where you didn’t know if you were even going to come, or if you were simply going to hover on the edge for the rest of eternity.

“Look at me, bambi,” Curtis growled, dragging your attention back to his handsome face.

It was only then that you realized you’d been staring up unseeingly at the ceiling of the bar, the golden and neon lights swimming through your vision as you lay limply beneath your trucker’s friend.

Curtis’s blue eyes were dark and his mouth was twisted into a desirous snarl, his beard making him look like a feral beast as he pounded into you.

“You’re gonna come on my cock, d’you hear me?”

Words escaped you, your tongue simply lolling out over your bottom lip when you opened your mouth to respond. All you could manage was a frantic whine as you bobbed your head in a nod.

“Good slut,” Curtis grunted, one of his hands falling to your lower belly, his thumb finding your clit between your slippery folds. “Come on my cock, bambi, c’mon, come on my big dick like a good little cock slut.” The rough pad of his thumb rubbed your slick, puffy clit unrelentingly, and suddenly, you were tipping over the edge.

Your mouth fell open wider and your spine arched up off the pool table as you screamed, your release crashing over you, wave after wave of pleasure hurtling you closer and closer to a darkness that wanted to claim you. But you clung to consciousness, your scream turning into a high, keening whine that could’ve been a sign of pain or pleasure.

Your release seemed to spur on Curtis and he rutted into you, fucking your clenching pussy as he watched pleasure contort your face and body. Then, with a final grunt, Curtis pulled himself free from your body. He jerked his cock in a big fist until he spilled all over your belly, making sure none of his come fell anywhere near your pussy or the tattoo there.

Curtis’s chest heaved, his eyes distant and dazed with pleasure as he wrung every last drop of come from his cock, and you watched him with the satisfied smile of a job well done.

When the last rope of his come had splattered, warm and sticky, against your belly, Curtis finally sucked in a deep breath and grabbed the beer handed to him from the crowd. He took a deep swig while he tucked his cock away with the other hand.

“Thanks, Levinson,” Curtis rasped, tipping his bottle to your trucker, who just nodded. Ari’s hands were idly massaging your wrists and you melted onto the rough felt of the pool table, knowing your trucker would take care of you. Curtis turned his blue eyes on you, and he tipped his bottle to you as well. “Always a pleasure, bambi,” he said, a genuine look of appreciation on his face.

You were about to respond, but then Curtis turned his beer over and he used the alcohol to wash his come from your skin. You squealed loudly when the cold liquid rushed over your heated skin, instinctively bringing up your legs to curl into yourself, making the crowd laugh and jeer.

When the beer was empty and his spend was cleaned from your skin, Curtis stumbled away into the crowd, the big man being swallowed up by the well-wishers and revelers congratulating him on fucking you good. Since you knew Curtis was done with you, you looked up at Ari, twisting your hands to wrap your fingers around his arms.

“Can we go now, daddy?” you asked softly.

Ari nodded and gathered you up from the pool table, setting you down on the edge while he pulled off the flannel shirt he’d worn over a white t-shirt. He tugged it over your head and helped you get your trembling arms in the sleeves, then ducked down to brush a kiss to your lips. The events of the night were catching up to you, and you were drunk and exhausted, but you sighed into your trucker’s mouth.

“You did good tonight, baby,” Ari murmured against your lips, and your heart felt like it was suffused in the warmest sunlight. Ari’s praise made you feel lighter than air, even as he pulled away.

You smiled up at your trucker as he straightened, staring at Ari like he was your whole world, which he was. His eyes were the softest you’d ever seen them as he stared right back at you, the tiniest smile curling the corners of his mouth.

Just then, Lloyd materialized out of the crowd and Ari finally looked away from you to exchange a loaded glance with his other oldest friend. Lloyd seemed to be much more sober than Curtis, and he helped your trucker lead you to the bathroom, where Ari cleaned you up a little and let you relieve yourself after all that you’d had to drink that night.

Then, Lloyd cleared a path through the drunken crowd while you and Ari followed. Between the two men, no one dared to try to touch you, and you sank into Ari’s side, feeling safe with your trucker as you looped your arms loosely around his waist. He smelled familiar and wonderful and you didn’t even try to hold yourself back from burying your face in his chest even as you kept on walking.

Lloyd pushed open the door of Everett’s Roadhouse and you sighed happily when the cool night air brushed against your heated, still slightly sticky cheeks. Gravel crunched beneath the soles of your sandals, and you blinked your eyes in the darkness until they focused enough to see Ari’s big, black truck looming in packed parking lot surrounded by other long-haul rigs.

“Drysdale’s gonna have a lot of business tonight after that show your girl put on,” Lloyd commented, casting his gaze across the expanse between Everett’s Roadhouse and Diesel Dolls, the strip club on the other side of the parking lot. Lloyd snorted and adjusted the front of his pants, and it was only then that you noticed the sizable bulge there. “Including me,” he muttered.

Your hazy thoughts strayed to the strip club, and you couldn’t help but imagine Lloyd getting a lap dance from a beautiful stripper. The tattoo artist sitting back on a plush couch while a gorgeous woman gyrated on his lap, his fingers twitching to grab her and touch her and defile her the way you knew Lloyd liked.

You didn’t even think to picture yourself as the stripper. Instead, in this little fantasy, you were sitting on Ari’s lap, your trucker’s cock buried in your cunt. Maybe he’d even let you get your own lap dance from Lloyd’s stripper, your body pressed between Ari’s and the other woman…

Your body lurched forward and if it wasn’t for Ari’s firm grip on your waist, you would’ve gone sprawling across the parking lot. For the rest of the walk to Ari’s rig, you tried to focus on putting one foot in front of the other and not let your mind wander so you wouldn’t end up feeling more sore than you already were.

When the three of you came to a stop beside the driver’s side door of Ari’s truck, Lloyd let his eyes slide to you before moving quickly to your trucker.

“I hope you had a similar gift in mind for my birthday, Levinson,” Lloyd said with his usual oily charm, his mouth curling into a smirk beneath his well-groomed mustache.

“We’ll see,” Ari rumbled, but his tone was good-natured. You couldn’t help the way your body clenched at the salacious, and somewhat victorious smile Lloyd shot your way.

But the events of the night were weighing heavily on your shoulders, exhaustion creeping into your bones, and you didn’t have the brainpower to wonder what Lloyd might do with you if you were gifted to him on his birthday. Even if you knew you’d have just as much fun with Ari’s other friend as you’d had with Curtis.

“Daddy,” you whined softly, burying your face against Ari’s beefy chest. His hand squeezed your hip possessively and he said his goodbyes to Lloyd, then helped you into the truck, making sure he was the only one who could see the way your pussy flashed as you climbed into the cab.

Ari followed you up and locked the door behind him while you crawled into the cot in the back, laying down on top of his soft blankets despite the sticky residue still clinging to most of your body. Ari pulled off his t-shirt and kicked off his pants, then joined you in the narrow bed.

Your body melted at the familiar comfort of his weight behind you, and you began to relax as sleep tugged at the edges of your awareness. But when Ari’s cock pressed hot and hard against your bare ass, you remembered his promise from inside the bar, how he said he was going to fuck you whether you were awake or not. You moaned softly while he bunched up the flannel shirt you still wore around your waist.

Your face was already pressing into the soft pillow on Ari’s bed, your eyes closed, but you arched your back and pushed your ass against Ari’s hard length, inviting him to slide inside your slick cunt. You were sore from Curtis’s fucking, but wet again for your trucker. You were always wet for him, your body craving the feeling of his cock filling you up in the perfect way that only he could.

“Ya gonna stay awake for me while I use your messy cunt, cock whore?” Ari rumbled into the back of your neck. The flat of his tongue swiped up the column of your throat, wringing a soft whine from you as he licked the beer from your skin. It felt so good, sending shivers down your spine and raising goosebumps all over your body. “Or did my friend wear you out?”

All you could manage was an unintelligible mumble, the sound muffled by the pillow crushed beneath your face, as sleep pushed more insistently into the border of your wakefulness. Ari’s deep chuckle rumbled against your spine, making you even wetter for your filthy, perfect trucker.

“Go to sleep, kiddo,” Ari murmured in your ear, his hand sliding over your hip to press against your lower belly, his fingertips grazing the tattoo that was branded into the skin of your mound, just above your pussy. His touch moved your body slightly, arching you enough for the head of his cock to find the slit of your cunt. “Let daddy use your tight little hole while you get some rest.”

Ari slid inside your pussy slowly, pressing the air from your lungs as he took his time impaling you on his cock. Your aching inner walls clenched around him desperately, pain and pleasure flaring to life and zinging through your exhausted limbs. A rough, greedy grunt rumbled in Ari’s chest, the sound softening into a warm, satisfied groan once he was fully seated inside you.

It hurt a little to be stretched out around Ari’s cock so soon after taking Curtis’s pounding, but when your trucker wrapped his arms around you, holding you cocooned in the cage of his broad chest while he rocked his hips almost gently against your ass, you felt yourself melting into him. Ari’s lips and tongue worked against your neck, licking sticky beer from your skin, his beard deliciously familiar while he set an almost soothing pace as he fucked you.

Despite the soreness between your thighs, and the tiny zings of pleasure thrumming through your body from Ari’s cock rocking into you, your exhaustion was too great and it wasn’t long before you were slipping into the warm comfort of sleep. That night in Ari’s truck, you fell asleep with a blissed out, cock drunk smile on your face, happy as could be to be in your trucker’s arms.

You may have spent much of the night as a gift for the bar owner your trucker called a friend, and you were glad you could be part of making Curtis’s birthday special, but you would always belong to Ari. And you would always end your nights in his arms, because that was where you wanted to be and where you belonged—with your trucker, Ari Levinson.

trucker king masterlist ● trucker au masterlist

#ari levinson #ari levinson smut #ari levinson x reader #curtis everett #curtis everett smut #curtis everett x reader #curtis everett fanfiction #curtis everett x you #ari levinson x you #ari levinson fanfiction #trucker ari levinson #trucker au #bar owner curtis everett #chris evans #chris evans characters #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans smut #witchywithwhiskeywork

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intheorangebedroom · 2 months

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The corner deli

Summary: You take a night trip to the corner deli and meet this handsome guy, but shit turns out weird.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x fem!reader

A/N: This is what happens when I can't sleep. Happy Frankie Friday, Orange besties 🧡

Word count: 1.8k

The corner deli

And here you are, another Friday night on your own, reading a book you can barely focus on, scrolling mindlessly in between chapters, slouched in your couch and feeling sorry for yourself. Those stupid, evil thoughts starting to whisper some nasty shit in the back of your mind, and you’re letting it happen.

It’s on you, though, because some of your coworkers, the younger ones, offered you to go out with them but you said no. You’re too much of an introvert, but not enough that you don’t feel miserable now, sitting here alone while the city’s buoyant life unfolds without you behind your closed windows. What difference does it make, anyway. It goes on, whether you decide to join or not. No one misses you, so there.

Fuck it. Tonight, you’re gonna eat your feelings. You slip on your jeans and your shoes and go out to the deli on the corner, it’s open all night. You’ll get some Pringles or ice cream, whatever comes first.

You’re walking down an aisle, hesitating between two flavors of Chex Mix, when you catch sight of THE most handsome man you’ve ever seen in your entire life.

He’s tall. And so fucking broad. His denim shirt is working hard containing the breadth of his solid shoulders, his jeans are tight on his thighs. He’s got a scruffy, patchy beard and strands of brown hair curling at his ears underneath his trucker hat. He’s all sharp profile, solid features, plush lips, oh! his lips are just… generous, and his eyes… god his eyes are dark, deep and soulful. Wait, did you just use the word soulful? Well, he’s that fucking handsome. There’s a stern crease splitting his brow, but it’s tempered by the small wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, the kind you get from laughing often.

You look down at yourself and… fuck. Your mascara has run off because yeah, maybe you cried a little, earlier. Your hair is dirty, pulled together in a messy bun that looks nothing like those supposedly effortless hairdos thrown at you in Instagram reels. The ones that make you feel unworthy of the air you’re breathing. You're wearing a dirty pair of 501 with your pajama shirt tucked in, there’s no way you're getting anywhere near him, even if you had any self-confidence to boot.

You walk over to the back of the store. Not that it’s a good hiding spot, it’s just where the fridges are. And of course, they’re out of the one ice cream flavor you like. Wow. It really ain’t your day, is it? Craning your neck to scan the empty top shelf, you spot the very last Netflix and Chill’d all the way to the back. Opening the door, you stand on tiptoes, fingers scrambling over the icy shelf to grab it, but you can’t reach that high.

That’s when you feel him. His chest barely brushing at your back. You get a whiff of his scent and you swallow a gasp. He smells like leather and warm skin and laundry and you can’t even move anymore, you just stand there like a Roman statue in a museum, with one arm up. Your gaze follows his arm as it extends toward the shelf, reaching it with ease. As his large hand grabs the last tub, the whole sequence of movements completely effortless and well, graceful.

He takes a step away from you, and your body’s responding again. Your heels meet the ground, and you turn to face him. There’s the promise of a smile curling his lips, fuck he is stupidly handsome, Jesus fucking Christ, are you still breathing? He hands you the tub and all you can think of is how thick his fingers look around it, and how they would feel buried inside you, or wrapped around your throat, and… oh wow. That escalated quickly.

You swallow hard, blinking the filthy thoughts away. There’s something in the way he looks at you, a glimmer in his eyes. You feel… warm. He flexes his jaw to the side, he’s smiling at you, still holding that goddamn ice cream, you gotta say or do something, but your body has bailed on you, yet again.

Eventually, you take the cold tub, careful not to touch his fingers. But he’s not letting go. Your breathing turns shallow, you can barely hold his gaze. Why does he keep looking at you with those soft brown eyes, why is he smiling like that? He can’t possibly be… what? Interested in you? No one can. No one ever is. That’s why you’re in this deli, alone, in the middle of the night, wearing last week's dirty laundry.

Oh. Of course. He’s waiting for you to thank him. Jesus you’re stupid.

“Thanks. You. I mean, thank you.” Oh, great, that went well.

There’s a beat before he releases his grip and lets go of the tub.

“You’re welcome,” he says, and of course, his voice is velvet. Round and husky and low.

There’s an easy confidence about him, like quiet assertiveness, is that a thing? Like he knows his worth, but he doesn’t need to step all over people’s toes to show it.

You’re raking your brain for some smart quip you know will come to you tomorrow morning in the shower, when you hear a commotion at the cashier. Somebody’s shouting orders, a dude holding up something in his hand, pointing it at the employee behind the plexiglass. Holding a fucking handgun, Jesus fuck the place is getting robbed.

Your mouth drops open, but no sound comes out. There’s pressure around your elbow and you’re yanked down onto the dirty tiles.

The man in the trucker hat is crouching next to you. He holds his index finger pressed to his lips. His face looks different, his jaw tensed, a deep frown darkening his face. His eyes are pitch black, is it even the same man? A minute ago, he looked like the friendly next-door neighbor you’re daydreaming about fucking in the basement laundry room, and now he looks like someone who’s about to shoot you in the face.

“Be quiet,” he mouthes under the noises coming from the front of the store, “stay here, everything’s gonna be ok.”

You don’t want him to leave you here on your own, no matter how threatening he looks, but he’s already moving toward the front and anyway, it’s not like you can move.

Shouldn’t you call 911? He told you to be quiet, what the hell are you supposed to do?

It all happens so fast, and you’re so scared. You’ve never been this scared in your entire life. You hear a thud, followed by a gunshot. You clasp your hand to your mouth, you’re sure you’re gonna die. You hear the sounds of a struggle, a loud, piercing yelp, and another, louder thud. There are a few more noises, fabrics rustling, muffled groans and nothing. Deafening silence.

You can’t feel your legs and your heart is beating in your throat when you finally hear him, the guy in the trucker hat. His voice is firm and his tone commanding as he addresses the deli employee.

“Hey, hey look at me, you’re ok. Can you call 911? Hey! Call 911. You’re ok.”

Your legs won’t carry you. You have to crawl to the front of the store on your hands and knees, and your eyes grow wide at the scene you find there. A tall, young man with a shaved head is lying on the floor, wrists in a zip tie, he’s passed out, or dead, you’re not sure and you don’t wanna know. And anyway, you don’t have time to see more. He’s here, in front of you, the guy in the trucker hat, blocking the view with his massive silhouette, helping you get up and walking you outside.

“You ok?” he asks you.

He’s got one hand in the small of your back, the other one is gripping your arm. They’re warm, and that’s how you register how cold you are. In fact, you’re shivering in the warm city night, teeth chattering and all.

“It’s over, I got you,” he says, cupping your face and you look up at him, nodding, mumbling, “I’m ok, yeah, I’m ok,” trying to focus on his warmth radiating through your cheeks.

When they arrive, the cops instruct you to stay to make a deposition. Uncomfortable doesn’t cut it to describe your state of mind throughout the entire process, but he stands near you the whole time, his shoulder against yours, and you don’t think you could stand straight without it.

Eventually, the place clears up. The perp came to, they handcuffed him and took him away. As he passed near you, you saw a purple bruise blooming on his neck.

You’re told you’re free to go, and there’s really no reason for you to stay.

Except there is.

“So um… you’re a cop, or something?” you ask, looking intently at the fascinating tip of your Van’s, bumping against the curb.

He shakes his head.

“No. US Air Force. I’m a pilot.”

Your head shoots up, mouth falling open into a silent oh.

His smile is so fucking soft you want to kick the curb and break all your toes.

“Well, thank you, anyway. That was really scary. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Now, there really isn’t any reason for you to linger. But he’s not moving, standing tall and broad and solid before you, hands propped on his hips, with that easy confidence about him. And that thing happens again, that thing where he looks at you with those gentle brown eyes and that promise of a smile, and you feel like you’re the center of the goddamn universe.

“I’m Frankie, by the way,” he says, offering you his hand.

From all the scary shits that went down tonight, this one has got to be the scariest, by far, because you know that if you take his hand, you’re not gonna let go.

You hear your name coming out of your mouth, and it’s too late. You’re done for. Your small hand slides into his larger one, and he gives it a strong squeeze. Not enough to hurt you, but enough to tell you everything you need to know.

And he’s not letting go. And you’re not letting go. You expect fucking fireworks, at this point, but it’s just… right. Like you don’t have to be scared. Like you don’t have to torture yourself anymore with mean-ass questions about how to behave or what to say next. Like you can simply be you, and it’ll be enough.

“So,” he starts, and he’s downright grinning now, a dimpled smile that lights up his entire face, “d’you think we can consider this as our first date?”

****

#happy frankie friday #the pilot™️#let me know if anyone's interested in a second date?#also just so you know chapter 5 of tybtm is coming along #I'm at 8k but i needed a break from the angst #and yes i am fully aware I said this chapter would be angst-free thank you very much #frankie morales #frankie morales / fem!reader #francisco catfish morales #frankie morales x fem!reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales / you

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dilemmaontwolegs · 1 year

Text

Going Public || CL16

Another little blurb that was sitting in my drafts... F1 Masterlist

“We heard your girlfriend is a driver for Ferrari too, can we expect a friendly race anytime soon?”

Charles smiled towards the Ferrari crew that was watching the interview from the side of the stage, knowing you were somewhere among them. “Oh no, she’s way too competitive, and unless it’s in a F1 car she will 100% beat me.”

The interviewer laughed along with the crowd. “Surely not?”

“She’s absolutely fearless!” he said seriously as he sat up straighter. “And she’s not even a racer.”

The woman frowned as she looked at her cue card. “I thought she was a driver?”

You saw the pride on Charles' face when he grinned at Carlos sitting next to him, who was trying to hide his laughter behind his hand.

“She is, but she doesn’t race.” The interviewer was growing more confused and you could see the fans taking all the information in to try and figure out your identity after nearly a year of dating under the radar.

“She drives the transporter rig,” Carlos clarified with a laugh. “Which is perfect because Charles can’t parallel park to save his life, so he gets his girlfriend to do it for him. She is very good at it.”

The People’s Prince of Monaco is dating a Trucker???

The F1 Gossip pages were going crazy after the interview and you sat scrolling through them with an amused chuckle.

“Babe, have you seen this one?” you asked as you showed him the latest meme. Some clever person had taken a picture of an overweight middle-aged man in a red plaid shirt over a dirty wife-beater, slapped a Ferrari badge on his truck and trailer and a long blonde wig on his head. The caption: Leclerc’s new girl. “I wish I could pull off that shirt.”

Two weeks later.

The camera crew were waiting out on the track and you caught Charles’ eyes in the mirror as you fixed your hair.

“Ready, mi amor?”

“How do I look?” you asked as you gave him a spin to show off your outfit.

“Gorgeous as always,” he said with a wink. “And a little bit scary if I'm honest.”

You straightened up the collar of the red plaid shirt and brushed your fingers along his jaw. “Is it the wife beater or the wig?”

“Maybe the big dick energy?”

“Gotta play the part, baby,” you teased as you swaggered over to the door with exaggerated steps. “This is what your fans are expecting of me.”

Marketing and Promo were having a field day. They had scoured the internet for ideas to make this video after Charles had given them the heads up that you were going to take your relationship public. You were both more than happy to make it a unique announcement since a sense of humour was something that you both shared.

The final cut was a work of art, and you had watched it at least three times over as your stomach ached from all the laughter. There had been parking challenges, slalom races through cone tracks, and even hot laps around the circuit in Imola. It had been an absolute thrill to shoot, especially with the ridiculous costume, but you were glad to be back in your own clothes.

“Well at least you didn’t lie in that interview,” you pointed out after seeing the final score for the challenges. “You won the F1 race.”

Charles draped a lazy arm over your shoulders and he pulled you closer, his lips brushing your ear as he spoke, “Would you believe if I said I practised reversing and parallel parking with Pierre all week?”

You paused the replay on the tv and shifted onto his lap, cradling his face in your palms. “Oh, my love, Pierre can’t park any better,” you said before your lips twitched with a suppressed smile. “You should have asked Kika.”

#charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine

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octuscle · 4 months

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Road Trip to a new life

Bloody hell, Chuck thought to himself! They can't just forget me here! His football team was on its way home from an away game. A very successful away game. And they all had their star quarterback to thank for that. And that was him, that was Chuck. And now they had all just taken a pee break. At a rest stop in the middle of nowhere. And hey, Chuck had been flirting with the cute waitress at the diner. And yes, he had fucked her in the broom closet. Hehehe, he thought to himself for a brief moment. A map of the state, showing the broom closets where he'd fucked basement girls, cheerleaders, or even teachers from schools he'd usually flunked out of shortly afterward. That would be a cool idea! His grin didn't last long. Shit, the team bus had left. Without him. And now he was standing here in the rain with no idea how he was going to get home.

A truck came to a halt next to him. A horn sounded very loudly. Chuck didn't react yet. The passenger door opened and a bearded guy looked out. "Son, you look lost. Can I give you a ride?" Chuck hesitated for a moment. He was still far too confused, far too angry to think clearly. "Sure, that would be cool," he replied. And climbed into the cab of the monstrous truck. It smelled of cigar smoke and sweat. Chuck looked at the driver. A short, slightly overweight guy. Unkempt. The dirty T-shirt ended just above the large belt buckle and showed a roll of flab. A greasy mullet peeked out from under the trucker's cap. Shit, Chuck thought to himself. Maybe that hadn't been such a good idea. The trucker lit a half-smoked cigar. "My name is Pete. If you want one too, there's one in the compartment right in front of you. Chuck shook his head, tensed his biceps and said, "Chuck! Thanks for the ride. And I don't smoke. I'm an athlete." Pete stretched out his right arm and felt Chuck's biceps. "Hm, feels good. It'd be a shame if you stopped working out." He blew a puff of smoke in Chuck's direction. And his hand moved towards Chuck's chest. "Wait, wait," Chuck moved to the right in a sit. "No homo, dude. I only fuck pussy." The driver just glanced briefly in Chuck's direction and smiled. His teeth were nicotine yellow. "I don't care what YOU fuck." He blew another puff of smoke in Chuck's direction, pulled his hand back and began kneading the bulge in his crotch. "Thanks for the ride, I think I'd better get off now." Another puff of smoke. Chuck went dizzy. "Comrade, the next stop isn't for another six hours. We have a schedule to meet." Chuck tried to keep a clear head. But the smoke was making him tired. His head felt like it was full of absorbent cotton. "All right, Pete," he mumbled. And fell asleep.

It was dark outside when Pete shook him by the shoulder. "Get up, sleepyhead. We'll take a break in fifteen minutes and then change drivers. Chuck yawned and stretched. Driver change? What was Pete talking about? And more important now was his latte. South of his big belt buckle, Chuck made a big tent in his pants. Of course Pete had noticed it long ago. He had long since taken his puny boner out of his pants and was wanking it. As a passenger, you had your duties. And it was still a quarter of an hour's drive. It wasn't the first time Chuck had blown someone in a driver's cab. Driver's cabs, filthy toilets in truck stops, broom closets in cheap diners. He could manage anywhere. How long had he been driving aimlessly on the highways now? Two years? Got there. You had to take what you could get. And Pete was actually out of his league. But he took him a good part of the way. Gratitude was a must.

Chuck walked a little wide-legged towards the restrooms at the service station. Pete must have cum. Chuck hadn't yet. They wouldn't be driving on for another hour at the earliest. It was going to be hell if he didn't find someone to fuck by then. In the light of a lantern, he leaned against the wall, his erection still clearly visible. He took a cigar from his leather vest, lit it and waited. Almost five minutes. Then a greasy business traveler in a cheap suit walked past him. A look that lasted a little too long. A grab in the crotch. A mumbled "20 without a rubber?". And everything was clear. It had been a few days since Chuck had showered, but the guy was still greedily going down on Chuck's greasy, cheesy cock. Premium beef. Yes, that described his cock very well. And this premium beef had just been sucked clean for 20 dollars. And then Chuck sank it into the guy's ass.

Chuck couldn't understand guys like Pete. When you were out on the street, you had to take care of your body. Okay, Chuck more than others, his body was his asset after all. But while Chuck shoveled in lots of chips and a big burger and drank three pitchers of beer, Chuck ate his steak and salad, drank water and used the last few minutes before leaving to do a few pull-ups and push-ups at the fitness station behind the toilets. A few other long-distance drivers loitered around him. If they hadn't had to drive on, Chuck could certainly have earned a few more dollars. But as it was, he climbed into the driver's seat. If he hadn't had to drive, he would certainly have had a few beers. As it was, another cigar would have to do. Pete snored in the back of his bunk. Chuck turned the radio up a little louder to stay awake. And he steered the truck south through the night.

At the next break and before the driver change, Chuck was able to earn a few more dollars. There were many truck stops where he was known as a colorful dog. When you heard his heavy footsteps and the creaking of the leather, it was like a bell on a Pavlovian dog. Chuck had been traveling the country for many years. A mixture of hustler, temporary trucker and casual laborer. He had flunked out of college at some point. Stupid thing to do. He'd had a thing with a woman once. And she'd claimed he'd raped her. That taught him a lesson, since then he only fucked men. They appreciated his mouth, his ass and his cock. And paid well.

Somewhere in New Mexico, Pete threw Chuck out of the truck. He had to be out of the cab before the finish line. Pete would be in big trouble if it came out that he had let someone else drive the truck. He thanked Chuck with a masterful blowjob and a box of Cuban cigars. They would probably never see each other again. The country was big… Chuck rarely got in the same truck twice.

Chuck loved the feeling of the sun on his body. He was able to use the stop for an extensive open-air workout, a good meal, two lucrative fucks and even a shower. Now let's see where he was going. He stood by the road. It wasn't five minutes before a car stopped and the driver asked him if he could give him a lift. Chuck only asked if he could smoke in the car. Only if he didn't just put the cigar in his mouth, was the answer. Chuck got in the car. On the road again!

Pics by @ki-kink

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #age progression #leather tf

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latenightdaydreams · 6 months

Note

ei, então.. pensei em algo como Trucker König! leitor x que está viajando há dias, talvez tentando fugir ou apenas conseguir algum lugar para recomeçar sua vida, ela está tão desesperada e desorientada que não percebe os avanços do caminhoneiro rude e carente por uma empresa que ele possa foder sem se preocupar, talvez ele seja um pouco carinhoso com ela, só para não assustá-la no início. é isso :3

Okay, so google translate wasn't helpful and I only know Spanish so i hope this is CLOSE to what you wanted? I kept it fluffy because of the heavy topics. Again, I'm sorry if I didn't translate it right!🩷

Fluff so all welcome!

>cw: fem/afab, fluff, talk of traumas but no details

1.4k word count

For more click here!

Trucker!König x Runaway!Reader

König had recently retired from the military and taken a job as a trucker. It gave him a chance to see a slower pace and side of the country he always found relaxing during his military travels. Struggling with PTSD he had one final break down that lead to his early retirement. This being his first out of country assignment, to travel from Austria into Germany, he was excited to just relax on the road and be able to clear his mind. That’s how he thought it would go at least.

He saw you. Scared and clearly disoriented. König slows to a stop and pulls off the side of the road before getting out. He is aware of his size and the fact his face is covered in scars, so he tries to approach you like he would a stray dog. Hunching his shoulders he calls out, “hallo Fräulein, geht es dir gut?”

You turn with a face full of fear and tears streaming down your checks. You see a giant man speaking to you in German, a language you don’t know, and begin to cry harder.

This breaks Königs heart, he didn’t mean to cause you even more distress. He stops walking and watches you as he stands still sobbing.

“Are you okay?” He asked in English this time.

You look up registering it and you shake your head no.

He gets a better look at you and can see that your clothes are dirty and that you look like you’ve been traveling on foot for a while now. He looks around to see if you’re alone, you are.

“Miss, are you hurt? Can I help you?” His voice soft as he takes two small steps to you.

You don’t move back but just look at him. Your breathing is shaky as you nod your head again, finally you speak with a foreign accent, “I- I need help.” You begin to cry again and drop to the floor feeling your exhaustion fully take over.

König walks to you and crouches down, “Is it okay if I touch you miss? Only to carry you to the cab of the semi.”

Seeing you this way gives him flashbacks to all the disoriented women and children that would get caught in a bombing or were kept as prisoners. You have the same broke look in your eyes and he feels the overwhelming want to save you.

“It’s okay…” Your voice so meek as you just lay there.

König reaches out and scopes you up gently, as if you were made out of paper and walks you back to the cab. He buckles you in and makes sure that you’re comfortable before walking around to the drivers’ side and getting in.

He goes to the back of the cab to the cooler he keeps there and grabs a water and a sandwich he had made for himself.

“Here, please drink and eat. There is more if you need it.” He hands them to you as you look up at him.

Slowly you extend you hands to grab the food items from him. You look at them for a while them over to him as he sits down in the driver seat.

“Why are you being so nice?” You question him, not trusting it’s out of the kindness of his heart.

“Because you need help and its just the right thing to do.” His gaze is genuine as he smiles at you.

You take time to notice the scars on his face and arms, implying that maybe he has also had a hard life. You open the water and begin to chug it, it had been almost a full day in the sun without a drink. König watches you without saying a word as you chug the water bottle, he gets up and grabs you a second one quickly. You begin to open the sandwich as he changes out your empty bottle for the new in the lap. Slowly taking your first bit you watch him again.

His pale blue eyes met yours again, “Is it okay if I ask you why you were out here alone like this?”

You chew the bite of food that you had in your mouth as you decide if you want to open up to the stranger you just met.

“I only ask because I can tell you’re not from here, and you’re in pretty bad shape. I just… want to make sure nothing happened or…” He leaves the question open ended not wanting to push too much and make you uncomfortable.

You stay quiet and continue to eat, he takes the hint and nods. He isn’t mad, he just hopes he didn’t push too much. Starting the truck again, he pulls back off on to the road and begins to drive.

“So, where is your destination?” König looks over hoping the change in topic will help you begin to talk.

“I don’t have one,” you say with a mouth full of food.

“You don’t?” König is shocked to hear this, then where were you going?

“No, I don’t.” You repeat taking a drink of water.

“Well, my job is taking me to Germany.” König looks over at you. You simply nod your head again. “You can stay with me as long as you need. It’s just me anyway. My name is König, by the way.”

“I’m y/n.”

“It’s nice to meet you, y/n.” König gives you a smile with teeth this time that show off his sharp K9s.

You finish eating your sandwich and then go take a nap in the back of the cab. There was a small bed with a blue blanket that you cover yourself with. Sleep came to you easily. It had been months since you were able to get a good night of rest and feel safe enough to do so.

Once you wake up you notice that the sun had completely set and it was dark out. You slowly walk back to the passenger seat and sit down. König looks over at you with kind eyes.

“Did you sleep well?”

You nod and stay quiet for a moment longer. “Thank you… for helping me, König.”

“Of course, it’s no problem.”

“Can I ask how you got all of your scars?”

König doesn’t like the talk about the past, especially not now. For you though, he is willing to tell you anything. The fact you’re opening up enough to ask his questions makes him smile and feel warm inside.

“I was in the military. I went in at 17 and I just retired last year.” He looks over at you to see your reaction to this information. You had a neutral look on your face but a softer look.

“Now you do this?”

“Ja, it is relaxing. Therapy in a way. I can just drive and forget.”

You look forward out the window as the clear night sky. Stars covering it as there were not many lights here.

“It is beautiful…” You say in a soft voice that makes Königs heart flutter. “So, you’re running away from something too.”

So, she’s a run away?

“I guess so,” König chuckles. “It’s natural to want to run from painful parts of our life.”

You stay quiet and look out at the night sky for a while and König sits with you in the silence.

“I met someone online that said they would help me escape from my abusive home life,” your voice cracks slightly. “I moved all the way here and…they…they…” you begin to cry.

König begins to stop the truck and again to pull off the side of the road. He unbuckles himself and embraces you in his arms. His massive muscular frame embracing you tightly as if he could take all the pain away. He kisses the top of your head as you continue to cry in his arms.

“I’m sorry, y/n. I’m sorry the people that you were suppose to be able to trust betrayed you. You’re safe now. You can be at home with me.” He rubs your back.

His words cause your walls to come crashing down as you hug him back, clinging to him and melting into his arms. This was the first time in a very long time you felt safe and that someone’s words were genuine. With no where to call your own, you decide to stay with König and see how to trip to and from Germany goes.

Both of you broken people who so happen to cross each other’s paths when you needed someone the most.

#konig #konig x y/n #konig cod #konig x reader #könig #könig x reader #könig cod #könig mw2 #konig fluff #könig fluff #könig x y/n #könig x you

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neopuppy · 2 years

Text

I Hit It Like It’s All Mine (M)

pairing. Johnny x female reader

genre. best friends step-mom AU, besties johnjae, college graduate Johnny, pwp, M/F

warnings. profanity, infidelity, y/n is older than Johnny, alcohol mentioned, teasing, overstimulation, breeding kink, rough & unprotected sex, degradation/praise. idk ily Johnny.

wc. 10k

now playing. All Mine//Plaza

Week 1

“Oh,” Jaehyun slams down on the brakes, speaking over the rubble of rocks and engine shutting off. “I should probably mention something important about my step-mom.”

Johnny lets out a confused laugh, pushing his sunglasses up to headband the mess speeding down the coast made of his long locks. “Gee, we’ve been flying and driving for how many hours now? Suddenly you decide this important information is something you need to tell me right before I meet her for the first time?”

Jaehyun shrugs, running a hand through his hair full of mucky sea breeze. “Didn’t want you to hound me about this on the way, I know how you are.”

“I know how you are as well, Jeong Jaehyun.”

“When we’re home, I prefer Jeffrey, dude.” His best friend sneers, exiting the convertible he had to beg his dad to let him rent for a few weeks while vacationing at their beach house.

“Sure Jeff, now please, spare me the details and catch me up on this vital info before I have to pretend your dad isn’t a complete dick with an amazing pool and view of the beach for the next three weeks.” Johnny chides, hauling out a surfboard from the backseat.

“Right right, well my step-mom,” Jaehyun feigns a lack of interest, pulling a trucker hat on to tame his unruly hair. “She’s hot, like.. like she’s really really hot.”

Johnny has to laugh, pausing with a crease between his eyebrows. “You dirty fucking pervert.”

Jaehyun gives him a look, lips tugged back in a way he only displays when he wants to be taken serious. “I’m being real right now man, she’s like..”

Scratching at the back of his neck, Jaehyun’s shoulders slouch, shaking his head at his best friend. “Just be careful dude.”

“Jaehyun—Jeffrey, whatever, what the fuck dude?” Johnny’s face furrows, following after his friend to enter through the back of the house. “You think I’m gonna try to fuck your step-mom or some shit?”

Jaehyun spares him an annoyed look, tossing his backpack onto his bed before flopping onto his stomach with a groan. “Yeah, I think you’re going to try and fuck my step-mom.”

“Have some faith in me dude,” Johnny bristles, lugging his belongings into his best friend's summertime bedroom he hasn’t seen in years. “Should let me sleep on the floor still, you know whenever we come back too late. Don’t want your sexy step-mom finding me drunk off my ass in the hallway— I’m irresistible, you know?”

“Yeah, you really had no reason to keep growing past 5’10. Thanks for leaving me behind, good looking out as always.” Jaehyun grumbles, perching his chin onto his forearm uncomfortably as memories flash across the backs of his eyelids. The last time he’d asked his friend to not fuck a girl had been Senior year of high school, and that didn’t end well for him.

Jaehyun’s throat clears, sitting up with the sudden urge to down a gallon of water. “Remember Sabrina? That transfer I had uh— a thing for our last year of high school?”

Johnny snorts, fingering a polaroid of his teenage-self between two digits. “You mean that blonde you had a fat crush on? Yeah, of course I remember her… great legs.”

“I thought so.” Jaehyun sighs, eyeing his best friend with a scheming gaze. “Whatever happens, I just don’t want to find out. Alright?”

“Dude chill,” Johnny rolls his eyes, opening up the walk-in closet he spent a few blurry nights passed out in. “Let’s get a quick swim in before the sun goes down, yeah?”

Jaehyun lets out an exhausted grunt, muffled and distant, burying his face deeper into freshly laundered bedsheets. “Pass.”

“Boo, you whore.” Johnny jeers, stripping down to nothing as he fiddles with different pairs of swim trunks in search of his size. “Have to make the best of every day here.”

Without bothering to waste more time, he shuffles into much too small flip flops to avoid unpacking his belongings. “I’ll be back.” Cracking a beach towel across Jaehyun’s back, Johnny lightly jogs back out the way they entered, sighing in relief as cool thick air flows across his skin.

Something about summers at the beach growing up always brought comfort back when he needed it. Trudging through the sand with a towel slung over his shoulder, Johnny smiled watching his toes get lost in the midst of granules, chalked up by the residue painting it’s way up past his ankles the more he kicked through. His grin only grew wider when he lifted his gaze to peer around the expanse of space still filled with locals, vacationers, bums and best of all— girls sliding their frames down for a better look at him.

Johnny laid out his towel near the water, just close enough to run in and dose himself in salty waves within seconds, but to avoid any possible high-tide crashing beyond his feet. Letting out a loud obnoxious yawn, he stretches out, allowing the sunglasses holding back his hair to fall into place and shield his eyes. It felt nice to lean back, purposely flexing his stomach muscles under the low sunlight and picking up the whispered hush of gasps and girlish vocals asking ‘who is he?’

Scratching under his chin, he glances around casually, tinted shades disclose well enough to admire oiled up bottoms basking in the sun. If all goes right, he should be getting his dick wet at least five times a week while staying out here. That should be a good enough way to melt off the weight of pre-med stress. Johnny’s tongue clicks, reminding himself to stop thinking about school. The future doesn’t matter right now, his decision to spend a large portion of break with Jaehyun boiled down to one thing and one thing only: getting laid.

‘California girls,’ Jaehyun sang, winking at his friend as he coerced him to purchase his flight. ‘They’re unforgettable.’

Johnny scoffs a bit at the memory, internally nodding as he takes in breasts bouncing beneath barely there bikini tops. He has a point, or Katy Perry did, whoever the hell sang that song. Nights fucking under lifeguard towers, running into the ocean butt naked under nothing but moonlight, slurping melted ice cream off dips and crevices sugary sticky syrup should never be. After months bundled up under thick layers and jackets with his face buried in research papers and endless cups of black coffee, he needed this more than ever. Jaehyun could tell, leave it to his best friend to know what's best for him.

Johnny decides it’s time for a quick swim, shoving up and dusting off sand from his backside, he strolls ahead pausing in his tracks when he sees something that catches his attention.

“My board?”

Johnny squints and shakes his head, blinded by sun cascading behind the figure sitting on top of the familiar surfboard. Turning his foot he moves closer for a better look, jaw loosening as the bright shadow diminishes, unveiling skin… tons of skin. His lip curls, noting the letter ‘J’ he etched into the edge of the board when he was 15, his board, not Jaehyun’s.

‘What difference does it make if I use your board or not?’

‘This is my baby, you can’t ride my baby.’ Johnny said, smoothing a wax down the body of wood with a rag. ‘How would you feel if another man was out there riding your girl?’

Jaehyun sneered, kicking sand at his best friend. ‘How many times have I asked you to not ride my girl and you do it anyway?’

‘Fine,’ Johnny scooped out his pocket knife, digging the sharp edge of it into the wood to carve out his initial. ‘This way, everyone knows who she belongs to.’

Jaehyun leaned over watching as the taller smirked proudly, breaking into a boisterous laugh. ‘You idiot, both of our names start with J.’

Johnny watched Jaehyun fall back into the sand clutching his stomach, twisting his mouth to the side because he just branded his baby for no good reason.

‘Ugh, just stay off my board dude!’

“The fuck..” Johnny watches intently as you emerge from the water, obscene droplets of water rolling off your thighs. “Nice board.”

He speaks before registering how close he’s come to stand near you, catching splashes of your hair across his chest as you wring out the sea water. “Thanks.”

Johnny wants to scoff, too caught up in the way you drop his beloved surfboard down by your feet carelessly. He wants to give you attitude, raises his voice at you for handling his baby so poorly, but he can’t, he can’t with his tongue hanging from his mouth like a thirsty dog.

“You’re beautiful.” His mouth feels dry already, swallowing mucky air down as he takes in your form and wonders how you managed to surf his board in that tiny string bikini leaving barely anything to imagine.

“Thanks.”

Again, you sound bored, not even sparing him a glance while throwing your hair around to air dry, and Johnny thinks it’s amusing. More amusing than any of the girl’s lined down the beach desperate for him to approach them instead.

“That board is a little too big for you, don’t you think?” Johnny cocks an eyebrow, head tilted to the side, tongue rimming his bottom lip to add action behind his condescending tone. “Just started surfing yesterday or something?”

“Hah..” finally you look at him, moreso glare at him, an equally snarky expression to match his written across your face. “What makes you think I can’t handle a board this big?”

Johnny pauses, taking in your features from the confidence in your gaze to your unblemished skin and lips that would look perfect struggling around his cock, and he thinks you’d be fun to ruin. Already dreaming of the hundreds of ways he could erase that cockyness from your pretty face. “You don’t really look like you can handle riding one that size.”

Clearing your throat, you bend over, ensuring a perfect view of your bottom perched between lycra cloth squeezing the fleshy meat out enticingly. Lifting the board under your arm with ease and a flip of your hair. “Now why would a little boy like you think you have a damn clue what I can handle?”

Johnny trails by your side, scrunching his eyebrows when you call him a little boy. “I’m 6’1!”

“No shit,” smiling, you brush him off with a wave of your hand. “Now shoo! Go find someone closer to your age to bother.”

“My age??” Johnny guffaws, too immersed in the way you’re dismissing him to even notice the direction you’re headed. “Uh, in case it’s not obvious— we’re definitely like the same age?”

“Doubt it.” Spinning quickly, you nearly knock him off his feet with a fierce hit from the tip of your surfboard. “Now go play with your toys before I call security and tell them you’ve lost your mommy.”

“I’m twenty-seven!” Johnny splutters, telling himself to ignore the coil in his gut lighting up from your threat. “And that’s my board!”

Akin to a petulant child, he reaches to grip around the wooden body to drag it free from your hold. The two of you going back and forth in a match of tug-o-war for no more than a minute between huffs and puffs and shrieks of ‘let go! I’m calling security!’ before the deep shout of his name distracts him enough to abruptly release his hold and send you crashing into the sand flat on your ass.

“Dude! Johnny what the hell!” Jaehyun runs from the front of his dad’s house, jumping over the pebbles lining the pathway of sand leading to the entrance. Hurling into his friend's chest, he knocks the wind out of Johnny and reaches to help you up, blabbering apologetically as the surfboard lays near you unceremoniously.

“Jaehyun?” You ask, latching onto his forearm to stand up and brush sand off your damp backside. “I thought you were coming in later?”

“Huh?” Johnny(ready to pounce on his friend) pauses and looks between the two of you, slowly glancing around in realization that you’ve walked up to his home for the next few weeks.

Jaehyun explains they ended up catching an earlier flight and hit no traffic, apologizing for being forgetful and not informing you ahead of time. “This..”

He points to the tall brunette that followed you home, letting out a disappointed sigh. “This is Johnny.”

“Oh!”

“Yeah,” Jaehyun nods, motioning between the two of you. “And this— is my step-mom.”

“Oh.” Johnny gulps, convincing himself that his cheeks are burning because of the warmth from the sun and not because of embarrassment, no, not because Jaehyun was right.

“See how I was right,” his friend leans in to mumble, patting Johnny on the shoulder. “Sorry if he was already bothering you.”

“Ahh, it’s okay. I think we got off on the wrong foot.” You say, pulling the board back up and tracing the carving. “I assumed this was Jaehyun’s before, my mistake.”

Jaehyun chuckles, nudging into Johnny’s side. “You see how that made no difference.”

“Shut up.” He mumbles under his breath, following the two of you inside, not without wiping off your limbs near the entrance. Quickly pulling on a too big zip up jacket to cover up in front of your new house guests.

“I had your dad’s assistant buy some of your favorites.” You call out, moving to the kitchen for a glass of water. “Fully stocked the fridge with cold brew and those Celsius drinks you like.”

Johnny follows behind, keeping his gaze set on the floor in hopes you’ll forget his lame attempt at flirting just minutes ago. “Don’t know what your friend likes, but we can order food if you guys are hungry?”

Jaehyun shrugs, grabbing two water bottles. “Sounds good, we aren’t picky. Whatever you want to eat we’ll be fine with.”

“Burritos?” You ask between sips of water, flicking to look between the two for approval. Jaehyun nods with a thumbs up, sliding one of the bottles in front of Johnny.

“Sounds yum.”

“Great!” Bouncing onto your toes you place an order on your phone and ask for Jaehyun to keep an ear open for the doorbell. “I’m gonna hop in the shower and rinse off real fast, feel free to get comfortable. The guest rooms all cleaned up and ready for you as well.”

Smiling in Johnny’s direction on your way out of the kitchen, you add a wink, as if to reassure him that you won’t bring up your beach banter again.

Jaehyun waits until he can hear the water running from your bathroom shower, breathily laughing and relaxing back into the chair near his friend's side. “You were trying to fuck her, weren’t you?”

“She had my board.” Johnny says, pretending to care more about scratching off the label on the water bottle melting in his palm.

“And you were trying to fuck her because of that?”

Johnny’s jaw clenches, ripping off the label and crumbling the paper between his fingers. “Just wanted to know why she had my board… She called me a little boy.”

Jaehyun laughs, knowing that must have pushed some buttons. “She’s older than us, not by much but.. surprisingly my dad actually remarried someone older than me.”

Johnny hums, taking a long swig from the bottle to woosh around his tongue. Mouth still dry from embarrassing himself. “So that’s your step-mom.”

“Yup.” Jaehyun’s lips smack, popping as the ‘P’ rolls off his tongue. “By the way, my dad won’t be around, some business deal in Dubai for the next few weeks.. Old bastard didn’t even bother to mention it. He’s already sky-high with his feet kicked up in Emirates first class.”

“So..” Johnny nods, playing with the bottle cap nervously. “It’s just the three of us.”

Jaehyun sighs, crushing up his empty bottle. “Yeah. It’s just the three of us.”

Meeting his best friend’s gaze, a silent exchange of words passes between the two. The small raise in Jaehyun’s eyebrow let Johnny know his thoughts without saying anything.

“I don’t want to know anything.” Jaehyun repeats quietly, getting up at the sound of the doorbell.

Johnny’s lips purse, hunching over onto the counter in thought. Maybe his original summer plans needed a few alterations, tapping the tips of his fingers against the marble counter, he wondered how much talk you were.

One way to find out.

Week 2

Paint fumes spill through the air conditioning vent, penetrating the guest rooms walls much too early to make sense. Johnny sniffs, squinting and groaning as his knuckles drag across his eyelids and he kicks at the sheet covering his lower half. “Fuck is that?”

It hasn’t been the most peaceful week, not quite, his own words of having to make use of each day coming back to bite him in the ass as Jaehyun shouted at him to get ready for another long night of bar hopping and club after club. Johnny realized after the second day of slamming shots that while his 22 year old self would have laughed at him, his present day self was in need of a porcelain bowl to drown his night of fun inside of.

“Ugh, I’m gonna throw up,” he mutters to himself, rolling side to side in bed miserably. The strong scent of paint more acidic than it should be as it mixed with vile poison left in his system from last night.

“That’s because you won’t eat greasy food after drinking dumbass.” Jaehyun says by his bedroom door with shades on inside and a cold brew in hand. “Mr. Healthy would rather suffer and stick to his diet.”

“Ughh.” Johnny fails to chuck a pillow at his friend, mumbling a string of curses.

“I left some medicine and orange juice on the nightstand.” Jaehyun lets him know. “Already ate breakfast, need fresh air, gonna take a stroll down to the pier. You coming?”

Johnny doesn’t bother to grace him with a real response, waving an arm behind to signal for him to go away. The other snorts, mumbling a ‘weak ass’ under his breath before exiting.

Minutes pass before he finally forces himself to crawl off the bed, dragging the sheet wrapped around his hip off as he scatters to collect the anti-nausea pills and cup of pulp-free OJ, that good rich people OJ from Whole Foods, he thinks. Typical Jeong household, nothing but the best.

Johnny slumps against the bed watching the room spin for a minute in an attempt to recall what happened last night.

‘Shots! Shots! Shots!’ Jaehyun kept howling in his ear, slamming wads of fifty dollar bills down on the bar as he ordered another round. ‘Who wants to do body shots!!’

Johnny sighs, having forgotten what a woo woo party girl his best friend could turn into after cracking open a bottle of Tequila. This is Jaehyun’s influence, egging him on with a whispered ‘pussy’ in his ear as he stared at the round of clear vengeful liquid ready to burn his esophagus. “Damn you Jeff.”

Another whiff of paint has chunks rising up his throat, charging up to the nearest bathroom to release the blacked out memories of last night. Johnny splashes his face, rinsing his mouth thoroughly until his teeth slick right off his tongue, shining pearly whites and burning from the amount of mouthwash he gargles to remove the taste. “No more drinking, you’re not 21 anymore.”

Stepping into the hallway, Johnny squints from the smell of paint growing stronger, following the trace of it down the hall to an open door where you bounce about barefoot in a pair of dirtied overalls and what looks like a bikini top. This one less revealing than the others you’ve sported around the house this week.

Johnny did his best to not stare, maybe, he could do better. Even now as he rests against the door frame and follows your every move mixing different paints together, he can’t resist eyeing the dips in your back whenever you shift slightly. He can’t help but imagine how nice his hands could look placed around your carved in waist, gripped between his digits as he holds you down and fucks you until you’re screaming out for him to slow down.

“It’s rude to stare, especially unannounced.” You say without turning to look at him, noting his presence from the sound of light footsteps ending by the door.

“Sorry,” Johnny apologizes, voice coated in heavy drowsiness. “I didn’t know that you paint, I mean..”

“Why would you, right? It’s a hobby,” you explain, stroking a wide brush across a black and grayed canvas. “Mr. Jeong didn’t want me to get bored when he’s away, can’t have a bored housewife.”

“You seem to stay pretty occupied..” Johnny thinks out-loud. If you weren’t stealing his surfboard, you seemed to be running off to some pilates class, or to get your nails done, something about a Erewhon market to grab an overpriced smoothie. Living that Tiktok life according to Jaehyun. “You’ve been painting for a while?”

Johnny enters to look around at what he assumes are completed canvases perched against a wall to dry by an uncovered window. “You’re pretty good.”

“Thanks.”

Something about the way you seem unimpressed by him and always reply to his flattery in the same monotone uninterested way tickles him more than it should. Johnny can’t even say he’s caught your eyes lingering on him once yet.

“Shouldn’t you be out with Jaehyun?” You ask, following the movements by your side from the corner of your eye. Johnny’s shirtless, of course, barefoot in nothing but the boxers he probably fell asleep in last night.

“We aren’t attached at the hip.” Johnny shrugs, pretending to seem interested in the tubes and cans of paints scattered near your feet. Squatting down, he looks through the ingredients wondering if you should really be in here inhaling this stuff. “Also, I can’t hang the same way I used to. Age is finally catching up to me I guess.”

“You’re a child.” You scowl, turning to look down at his messy head of hair. “Stop speaking as if you’ve lived 50 years on earth.”

“A child??” Johnny shoots up straight, standing tall in all his half-naked glory. “You’re only a few years older than me!”

“I could be your—“

“You could not.” He interrupts, smirking full of arrogance that only a 20-something year old could possess. “You could be Mr. Jeong’s daughter though.”

“Possibly.”

Johnny’s surprised you garner him with a response, expecting his message to go ignored. Of course he’d dropped hints about the age difference between you and your husband, occasionally mentioning how even if he’s home you must not feel a difference. Pushing it further by joking around if the old man can even get it up anymore.

“Is that what you’re into?” Johnny crosses his arms, leaning back on a wall in front of your painting set-up. “Wrinkled and shriveled?”

“Is that the way a pre-med student should be speaking about his future patients?” Clicking your tongue, you return to your work, not wanting to fall for the game Johnny’s been trying to involve you in since arriving.

“I’ll be starting my residency soon.” Johnny corrects you, counting the different tones of paint splatter on your overalls. “This might be one of my last summers to fuck around, you know.. mess up a few last times.”

“Sounds like you’ve been messing up nearly every night.” You smirk, lifting an arched brow at him. The parade of different girls walking in and out of your house hasn’t gone unnoticed despite Jaehyun’s best efforts to be discreet about it, neither has their obnoxiously loud moans and screams while getting plowed in your guest room.

“Not quite the mess up I’ve been dreaming about.” Johnny says confidently, studying the small changes in your expression this up-close. Between you running around to complete your errands and Jaehyun cock-blocking him, he hasn’t had the easiest time to pick up on your mannerisms. Barely able to lock eyes with you long enough to maintain eye contact with the way you nonchalantly carry on avoiding him, make him feel invisible.

“Imagine if your mother knew of these things you dream about.” You say, peering over the canvas to find Johnny’s honey gaze. “You think she would approve of this behavior?”

“Not at all.” Johnny’s quick to say, pushing off the wall. “But she’s not here, is she?”

“Unfortunately.”

Johnny doesn’t fail to notice the second too long you take to look away from his chest, moving to stand by your canvas with his boxers hung low enough to show off the sharp edges of his jutted hip bones, he flexes intentionally, stretching his waist side to side for his stomach muscles to convulse. The way they would convulse when..

“Do you think I’m a bad boy?” He whispers, as if you aren’t home alone, because he knows that secrets should stay quiet.

“I think you are mentally a young boy, a young boy afraid of your last days of youth slipping through your fingers.” You know Johnny feeds off your attention, casually side-swiping him and refocusing on your painting despite his best efforts to show off his great physique.

“Perhaps.” He shrugs, looping a hand around your wrist gently to tug your brush onto the smooth flat planes of his abdominal muscles. “But I want to grow up, I wanna show you what a man I can be.”

Johnny speaks between bated breath, sweeping the deep red paint up and down the indent of definition lining his stomach.

“What makes you think I want to know what a man you can be?” Words feel heavy sliding off your tongue, dipping the paint brush lower into his twitching navel, blood red trickles down rolling past the scrunched waistband of his bottoms.

“Because, you can handle big things.” Johnny retorts, tilting his head to one side. “At least, that’s what you claim, I’ve yet to see it proven myself though.”

“And how exactly am I supposed to prove that to you?” arching back your neck to push your chin forward, you have to look up at Johnny, brushing past his waistband to press the bristles of your mostly dried brush against the bulge that’s formed between his hips.

Johnny’s throat bounces, swallowing behind his pursed lips from the stiff itchy friction pushing through the thin cotton fabric covering his groin. Instinctively canting his hips forward in search of more, he has to resist the urge to look down. Grinding the backs of his teeth together as he watches your face lacking any sign of weakness. “Let me fuck you.”

“Spoken like a true bratty child.” You snicker, trailing the tips of your manicured nails down the side of his twitching abdomen. “I’m a married woman.”

“Means nothing to me,” Johnny lilts, throbbing between his thighs from the rough manner you continue to dig into his crotch. “Besides that, I haven't seen you wear a ring.”

“Ah, and you would know, given all the time you spend staring at me.” You say, digging your freshly done nails into the lines of muscles covered in paint. “You think I’m playing some game with you, don’t you? Such a little boy.”

“Maybe.” Johnny’s throat tightens, swallowing the wad of saliva that’s gathered at the back of his mouth. “I find it hard to believe you seriously married Jihoon.. of all people to waste your youth on.”

“Marriage isn’t as simple as you’re making it.” You whisper, tracing one of his hips with the smooth pads of your fingers. “It’s not a waste if you get something worth it out of it.”

“Hmm,” Johnny blows a long breath out, head drooping to concentrate on the brush jabbing at his hardened size. “I’m not oblivious, I understand that much, but what I also know for a fact is that there is no way Mr. Jeong can fuck you the way you deserve.”

“Deserve?” A smile creeps across your lips at that, pinching the fabric of his ruined boxers between your grip to tug lower and unveil where tanned skin meets lines of paleness protected by his swim trunks. “How exactly do I deserve to be fucked?”

Johnny tips forward, nudging his forehead against yours. “Wanna find out?”

“I’d love to find out.” Tossing the paint brush aside your mouth draws out an ‘Ooo’ feeling up his covered size with a push of your palm against his groin. “I don’t believe that you are going to be the one that shows me.”

“You want it?” Johnny’s tongue feels heavier with each press of your palm against the underside of his length, sucking his plump bottom lip under his teeth to suppress a groan.

“You’re asking me to cheat on my husband?”

“I’m asking you to let me fuck you.” Johnny says falling into a deep vibrato. His patience wears thinner with each teasing touch, a few steps closer is all it takes to press you against a wall, arms lifted above your head to leave you feeling caged in. “If I fuck you once, I promise that I’ll have you begging to be mine.”

“What makes you think I want to be yours?” Clasping your fist around his cock, you squeeze the fabric against his shape, pushing one of your thighs between his. “You’re the one begging to fuck me.”

“That’s what you want?” Johnny’s eyes flutter shut, not even trying to hide how aroused he is as he clamps around your thigh, hips jerking forward to fuck into your palm. “I’ll beg all you want— fuck, I’ll get on my knees. I’ll do anything, whatever you want.. just tell me. Tell me what to do.”

Johnny slumps more, catching a moan on your shoulder as his tongue begins to lick at your skin, sweet skin he could devour right now if you’d just let him. “Please, need to fuck you so bad.”

The back of your head knocks against the wall, stroking faster along his length throbbing thick and hot in your grasp. “Fuck..”

Johnny bites down on your shoulder, jerkily thrusting into your palm with three messy strokes, a broken shout lost behind the bite as his teeth bury in hard enough to break skin.

“Johnny!” Hissing, you reach for his hair, using the dried paint on his stomach to clean off the cum seeping from his boxers onto the back of your hand. “That hurts!”

He apologizes weakly, lapping at the fresh teeth marks left behind. Hot breath panting along your throat as he recovers and comes down. “Sorry… really sorry.”

“Think you can fuck me like I deserve?” You say, twisting chunks of his hair between your digits. “You just came from a few touches, kid.”

“I can..” Johnny’s head hangs shamefully, chewing at the insides of his cheeks feeling embarrassed yet again. “I can..”

“Yeah yeah, you need to go clean off.” shoving at his chest you nod to the door. “Don’t get paint all over my bathroom.”

“That’s seriously never happened to me before..” Johnny whispers, more to himself, rubbing at the back of his neck in disbelief.

“Not surprised.”

“Why?” He squints, taking in the sly smile lifting one of your cheeks.

“Little boys tend to be overzealous.” Patting his cheek, you nod to the door again. “Go.”

Johnny has to bite his tongue to stop himself from begging to fuck you one more time, nodding and bowing as he accepts the loss.

Maybe you were right.

Maybe you had him all figured out, Johnny contemplates, scrubbing the paint from his stomach under the stream of hot water hitting his skin, leaving behind pelts from the boiling temperature he’s set it at. A cold shower would have been for the best, especially now as he lathers up your body wash onto a cloth. The scent that clung to your skin still stuck to the backs of his teeth.

Fuck, I’m an idiot.

He sighs, dropping his head to rest on the shower tiles as his fist wraps the cloth around his length, half mass already just from the intoxicating scent of your steaming around his skull.

You never said no, and that’s enough to shoot dopamine through his veins, jolting his hips up as he turns and fucks faster into his palm; eyeing the red stained water swivel it’s way down the drain.

One way or another, Johnny was set to have his way with you. No married woman jerks off another man besides her husband willingly like that.

Shouting between gritted teeth he watches release mix in with the red, more than determined to paint your insides the same way and make you regret toying with him.

Week 3

‘Headed out to meet the girl from the party last night. Probably won’t be back until late. Stay out of trouble will you?’

Johnny’s eyes squint, rubbing his forehead to will away the nasty lingering sensation of a hangover attempting to ruin his morning. Groaning, he lowers the brightness on his phone screen to give his friends message a thumbs up, that should be enough of a response.

Trouble is the last thing he wants right now, bending over to roll his forehead against the marble kitchen tile, he groans wondering if that party was even worth it.

It wasn’t.

Not really, not when all he could think about while different girls approached him with high hopes of hooking up was the pretty desperate housewife home all alone..

“Johnny?”

Trouble called for him, slowly pushing himself to stand straight and swallow down the breeze of salty beach air entering from the sliding door he’d opened earlier, he wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand; pushing a mess of highlighted brown locks away from his face before forcing a smile to greet you.

“Morning!” His teeth chattered together upon finding your concerned gaze, blinking to disguise the quick scan of your figure covered by nothing but a thin baby pink negligee.

“Morning..” You say softly, slowly tip-toeing closer to the end of the kitchen counter he’s gripping onto to stop himself from keeling over. “You guys must have had fun last night?”

Johnny nods, adding a bored shrug. “Nothing amazing, I was just about to go for a run along the beach. Need some fresh air to blow away the remnants.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Bumping into his side to examine his face up-close, your tongue clicks, raising your fingers to drag through messy strands of hair masking his eyes. “You look like shit, kid.”

Johnny cuddles into the touch with a low groan, similar to a cat purring and burying its cheek into your palm, the corners of his lips lifting at the nickname. “Thanks, you almost sound like you care about me.”

“Don’t go for a run.” Dragging him to sit at the kitchen counter, you instruct him to stay put. “I’m gonna make you my hangover smoothie, always remedies Jihoon after a night of drinking.”

Johnny’s face immediately dips into a frown, perching his chin onto his palms with sad puppy eyes. “Must you mention him right now?”

Gathering up ingredients to cure your guests current problem, you dryly laugh, beginning to chop up ginger and garlic cloves. “Have you ever heard of this thing called gratitude? You’re living under his roof for free after all.”

“It’s a shame really..” Johnny grumbles, rubbing circles into his temples.

“Hmm? What’s that?”

“That I have no other way to thank him than by fucking his young hot wife.” He grins lazily, sighing between a laugh at the dramatic gasp you let out and your jaw plunging down to the floor. “You’ll have to relay the message for me— you know, if the old man can even handle what I’m going to do to you.”

“God, here I am trying to relieve your pain, and all you can talk about is your stupid horny teenage boy fantasies.” You sneer, tossing the concoction of ingredients you’ve readied into a blender before twisting about the kitchen to grab a cup, cursing under your breath as you reach a top shelf and trigger a pesky kink in your neck.

“Need help?” Johnny’s already on his feet before you can protest and insist he needs to stay put again, pressing to your back to reach overhead and set down the glass before you. He hums, pinching the part of your neck that meets your shoulder. “You pull something?”

Swatting at him, you nod, clenching your eyes shut. “Think I fucked up my neck between this new pilates class and lugging around new appliances for my paint room. Ahh—“

Johnny kneads harder at a knotted muscle between his thick fingers, pressing the heel of his palm in to add pressure. “And Mr. Jeong hasn’t hired you a personal masseuse yet? Someone’s worried about his pretty trophy getting polished off by another man.”

“Ugh..” hunching forward to grip on the counter you gasp between trying to keep your breath calm. “That hurts!”

“Yeah, I bet it does.” Johnny moves your hair aside, pressing his nose closer to inhale the scent of your shampoo still clinging to your scalp. “Do you always smell this good first thing in the morning?”

“I don’t know..” answering mindlessly under his weighty palms, you let out an embarrassingly satisfied groan, pushing your hips back to get comfortable with your elbows on the counter. A choked sigh emits from behind you using the opportunity to press closer and lock his hips to your barely covered backside.

“That was too easy,” Johnny snickers, rocking his girth between the dip that's formed on your bottom. “Mrs. Jeong, what would your husband think??”

“Ugh.. you little..” between staggered breaths you curse him, reaching back to push at his abdomen only for Johnny to tether your wrists together with one hand, his other unwilling to release the back of your neck.

“Little?” Johnny says brazenly, pushing roughly against your lower half, the toes of his sneakers knocking your ankles apart until you spread eagle over the counter for him. “Say that again?”

Another powerful cant of his hips has you gasping, struggling to release from his unyielding grip. “Fuck..”

“What was that Mrs. Jeong?” Johnny tsks, throwing a twist between his eyebrows to display the foul act. “What would your husband say? Acting like such a slut for his damn near second son? Have some shame.”

“Johnny!” Between gasping you manage to pinch at his hand and free one of your wrists. “Jaehyun could walk in at any moment!”

“Don’t worry your pretty head off about him,” Johnny sucks in his lower lip, maneuvering his hips back enough to view the stain that’s formed on your pathetic excuse for sleepwear. “Would you look at that?”

“Stop! Don’t look!” You almost believe your pleads, knocking against the cabinets before your legs when the cool blow of air conditioning shivers up your bottom as Johnny leisurely gathers the fabric of your negligée with one fist.

“Soaked right through your underwear sweetheart. Tell me to stop, tell me this isn’t because of me.” Johnny says heatedly, wedging your underwear higher with his other hand, the fabric bubbles with more wetness as he tugs it between your folds, kissing the backs of his teeth. “So fucking wet.”

“You c-can’t..” you gasp, bouncing against the burning pressure Johnny’s created down your center.

“That’s cute..” He chuckles, grinding together the backs of his teeth from the way your ass jiggles, just begging to clap back against him the more you shake at your knees. “Who’s going to stop me baby?”

“Ja-Jaehyun, he—“

“Jaehyun doesn’t give a fuck.” Johnny interrupts your sad excuse to make him stop, sliding one of his digits up your thigh to collect a dollop of wetness that's begun to trickle down past mid-thigh. “Your husband can’t do shit either. So bold and moronic to leave his pretty little slut of a housewife home alone, allow you to prance up and down the beach showing off your perfect tits, fat peachy ass.”

“He-he could..” You gulp, losing train of thought when he slaps at your butt, a large palm cupping the pert round of your ass hard enough to leave prints behind to catch sight of in a mirror the next day. “..wa—walk in.”

“Shut up about Jaehyun,” Johnny spits, delivering a rougher slap to your ass. “Suddenly you want to act like step-mom of the year? You knew what you were doing, we all know what you want.”

“Please..” You whimper, reeling from the sting of pain shooting to the back of your thigh.

“You know what could cure my hangover better than a smoothie?” Johnny asks, ripping your soaked underwear down to the tops of your thighs and cursing under his breath at the full visual of your glossy cunt. “Your tight pretty pussy.”

“Ugh!” Groaning, you scratch at the surface of the counter, slipping further and further away from your sanity; the last of it exiting your body at the first brush of his length between your folds. “Johnny!”

The shrieked scream of his name has him bending over, pressing the full amount of his weight onto your back to smash your breast on the cold surface. “What was that?” He grabs your chin, forcing your head to turn to the side and plant your cheek on the counter. “Speak up, tell me to stop.”

“Please..”

Johnny’s tongue clicks, wrapping a fist around the base of his girth to control swiping the tip between your folds. Teasing you with the occasional press of his cockhead against your pulsating hole. “Please stop Johnny, I’m an honest married woman.” He mocks, pouting and pulling your bottom lips open, your heavy breath leaving a cloud of moisture along the marble.

“Please..”

Johnny sneers, twisting your neck to a more pained angle to refocus your eyes on him. “Please spit in my mouth, treat me like a nasty cock slut, fuck me like a whore with your big cock.”

He nods your chin up and down, pupils blown wide as he dips the tip of his cock inside your entrance. The rim of it snapping like a rubber band around his bulbous size as he draws away. “Slutty fuck hole has more to say than you? Fine.”

Keeping your lips propped open with his fingers dug into your cheeks, Johnny gathers up saliva, lapping it from corner to corner inside his mouth. His plump lips purse together to pour it out slowly, a thick wad of it stretching out to land on your tongue with whimpered cries following behind. The act pushes tears from your eyes in disbelief.

Jaehyun’s father would never spit in your mouth, let alone call you any type of degrading names. As if able to read your mind, he snaps you out of it by jerking your head around, landing soft slaps on your cheek. “Swallow.”

Johnny waits until your throat bounces, evidently sucking down his spit and smiles as you gaze back with large watery half-dazed eyes. “What do you say?”

His thumb smears your lips, shoving the fat of your lower lip side to side with a glint in his eye. “Thank You..” You say, almost timidly, shivering at the thought of giving him the wrong answer.

“That’s right.”

“I shouldn’t..” You say nervously between inhaling, thighs wobbling in anticipation of knowing what comes next.

“You shouldn’t? Or you don’t want to?” Johnny cocks an eyebrow, eyes half-lid as he watches thoughts run rampant behind your gaze.

“Want to..”

Johnny licks his lips, alternating to cup your pussy from the back and slot his palm against your entrance cruelly, the tips of his calloused fingers pressing down on your clit. Cock landing in rapid slaps on your ass leaving a mess of your wet arousal with each hit. “You hear that? So fucking wet for me sweetheart. Here I thought only a real man could turn you on this much.”

Johnny leans back down again, capturing your lips and the moan you let out as two fingers push past the heat of your entrance. The sound of wetness echoes throughout the kitchen, obscene and loud, sprouting out onto his palm like a broken faucet. “Love how I play with your pretty pussy don’t you baby?”

He licks between the seam of your lips, demanding to be let in with a firm push of his tongue. Easily dominated by his larger mouth finding control as you gasp out a moan, scissoring apart his fingers to stretch you open. He bites at your upper lip, pulling the fleshy meat between his as he shifts to hover over you and lick the swell that's begun to form from his bite. “So tight, knew that your husband couldn’t possibly be making use of your perfect pussy.”

Johnny grunts, shoving a third finger inside of you to push against the inside of your velvety dripping walls. “God, how am I supposed to fit in here?” Raising his voice over the sound of your slippery wet cunt, he grins, forcing a fourth finger inside of you and working into a speedy pump. “Your useless husband should thank me, finally someone to satisfy his pretty little trophy wife, make use of her young tight body. Ruin you for any other man.”

Shifting to grab the back of your neck in a chokehold, Johnny keeps your upper half held down flat on the counter, working his other arm to a rapid pace that has you shouting. Tip-toeing off the ground from the throttle of his fingers, pushing the coil in your gut to constrict your insides and spill over the tears you’d been holding in. A slew of pleading and curses spilling out between the sound of creamy wetness hitting his forearm and hips.

“That’s it, opening up so fucking nice for me pretty.” Johnny pulls out abruptly, mouth desperate for a taste. Having to wipe his hand off on his shorts just to get a proper grip on your ass. He falls to his knees quickly, pulling your buttcheeks apart to drag his tongue from clit to your wrinkled hole, missing your dripping entrance just to hear you suffer. Squirming and quaking under the fierce hold he grips you in.

He bites down on the swell of your ass, groaning between sucking at the fleshy meat, fingers pressing in harder to fully display where you leak for him. The complete visual of you so obscene, clenching around nothing with your fingers buried in your mouth to contain your cries. “Fuck. So fucking tiny..”

He prods at your entrance, circling the stubby tips of his nails against it to watch another tremor of anguish roll up your thighs. “Tell me baby..”

Johnny glides two digits back inside, having to tuck his lip in to lower the growl in his chest. “Want me to fuck you?”

His tongue curls up, tracing the outline of your hole squeezing his fingers, swirling around your clenched rim that taunts him with the idea of fucking your ass until you’re pitifully groveling. Sulking and begging for him to slow down, go harder, fuck my ass until I break.

“Not…n-not right..” you whimper in spite of your desire screaming out otherwise from every direction. Fighting back the orgasm his fingers are plowing out of you, curling up where you need and pressing with a hard wiggle until your ass jiggles against his face. Tightening around his fingers too much as you hit release, having to stop his ministrations from the grip. “please..I’m married.”

“That makes one of us.” Johnny sighs, popping his fingers free to glide against his tongue. Eyes rolling to the back of his skull, dizzy just from the taste of your hitting his tonsils. “Only one of us has to care.”

Pushing up off his knees, he loops around your waist from behind, chin perched on your shoulder to lick at the shell of your ear, whispering close enough for your eardrums to vibrate. “And it’s not me.”

Hauling away from the counter, Johnny directs you toward the living room with his knees banging into the backs of yours. Protests falling silent as he spins you to face him and cups your cheeks with damp palms. “No one has to know.”

Not allowing you more time to think, his mouth crashes down on yours to stop the next thing you can say to convince yourself that this is wrong. If it’s so wrong, then why do you like it so much?

Johnny doesn’t have to ask you, he knows you’d put up a fight if you really cared. Knows you’d yell at him and push him off instead of lifting your arms above your head for him to strip you free of your nightgown, freely exposing your bare breasts for him to grab and massage, pinching your already hardened nipples as he sucks on your tongue.

“This is what you needed all along, someone to put you in your place.” Johnny’s lips lower to your chest, wrapping his mouth around your nipple to suck on, pulling it between his teeth as his hands cup your ass. Bending at his knee to lift you off your feet, he turns effortlessly, laying you down on the couch you’ve spent many nights with your husband watching movies; more nights alone scrolling through your phone burning through his credit cards.

“Told you I’d fuck you how you deserve baby.” Johnny says, wishing you hadn't insisted on acting so resilient. Now he’d have to make use of the next few days to fuck you morning and night until you have to beg him to carry you, legs too worn out. Leave your cunt raw and used, not like Mr. Jeong would even fathom the idea of his son's best friend since childhood doing something this low to him, not Johnny, the alleged ‘good influence’ on his son.

“Gonna be good for me? Take it like you deserve?” Johnny kicks off his running shoes, easily shoving aside the throb in his skull in favor of devouring you. Pushing his shorts off in one sweep, he positions between your thighs as if his life depends on it. As if you’ll suddenly wake from your spacey horny daze and slap him across the face.

Gripping your chin, he forces your glossy eyes back on his face, sharp features more shadowed from the light streaks of sunlight entering the mostly dimmed room. He’s straight out of a wet dream above you, hair tousled, sweeping down above his strong eyebrows and hooded eyes. Lips swollen fat from the assault delivered to your mouth, and a body you can only squeeze your eyes shut tightly to imagine on top of you while your husband sloppily thrusts and cums too fast.

“Want you.. want you to fuck me.” You drawl, ready to wail as you clutch at his waist. The dips of muscle melting beneath your palms. “Please.. fuck me like I deserve.”

Johnny’s nearly mortified by how red the engorged head of his length looks, stroking up the base as if he needs any help to fully harden, aching between his thighs where his balls sit heavy; dying to release load after load inside of you.

“I know, pretty baby.” Johnny has to take a deep breath, pushing at the back of one of your thighs to swipe between your creamy coated folds, biting down on the tip of his tongue as you tremble in his hold and let out a wet pleading sob to get fucked.

He struggles to slide inside despite how wet you are, mentally and physically cursing, sucking at the drool ready to pour from the corners of his lips. He has to shut his eyes to not cum already, the image of your perfect pussy taking his cock finally feels overwhelming, it’s too much, a culmination of his every thought since the moment he saw you sat on his board with your thighs spread open. He knew he had to have you.

“Fuck, you feel so perfect.” Johnny hisses when he bottoms out, his heavy sack smacking at your rim as he lodges himself in place. Head swirling as you clench up around him and let out the prettiest moans he’s ever heard.

“Big… s’big..” more tears brim your eyes, tugging your lip between your teeth to not wail as a batch of salty wetness rolls down past your lips and pools at your neck.

“Just for you.” Johnny tries out an experimental roll of his hips, stomach sucking in rapid convulsions from how deep inside of you he’s reaching. Unable to even bring himself to take in the hint of bulge protruding on your mound. “Need to get fucked stupid so bad, don’t you sweetheart?”

He can’t wait anymore, patience out the window as he draws back to the tip and rams forward, earning an ear shattering shout from the confines of your chest. He grips onto your thigh, hoisting it around his hip for better leverage as his other hand stays splayed on the back of your knee, pushing your flexibility to its limits with each thrust.

Johnny can see your breasts rise and fall between labored breaths, the rapid motion forcing your tits to bounce delectably, leaving his mouth no choice but to capture your nipple between his teeth and bite.

The drag of his cock feels heavy, near painful from after already cumming. It hurts in a good way, in a way you’d begun to forget. Lost to the torturous slam of his cock spacing out your insides, as if to claim your cunt for no one other than himself.

“Not gonna last much longer,” Johnny says between raspy short breaths. Pistoning into you roughly, nearly inaudible above the booming sound of skin slapping skin. “You’re just too fucking good.”

“You.. you have to..” struggling to breathe too, you can hardly form your thoughts coherently, fucked into another dimension as Johnny keeps going. Cock plunging in and out of you faster, faster than your husband’s ever been capable of.

“No.” He grits, planting his palm against the back of your knee to keep you held in place; not that you have anywhere to go.

“Johnny.. have to..” You start to say again, another orgasm threatening to silence you when he slams in at another angle. Shocking you with the press of two fingers on your clit, working the stiff little bundle of nerves expertly. The relentless pace he fucks into you with never faltering, hip bones smack against your pelvis with a sharp clap. “P-pull out.. can’t.”

“No.” Johnny repeats, sinking in impossibly deep. Delirious as you think the length of his size reaches what feels like the back of your throat. The constant reminder that you haven’t been fucked this good in years echoes at the back of your mind. Perhaps you’d never been fucked this good, definitely not since before the days you found yourself sat across from Jeong Jihoon interviewing to be his secretary fresh out of university. The thought that he’d end up asking you to marry him after a year of fooling around never once crossed your mind. The thought that you’d crave for another man to disrespect you in your happy home, cheat on the man you allegedly love; the man you married for an easy life, never once had occurred to you.

“You’re mine now, don’t fucking tell me what to do.” Johnny rages, bending closer to hover his face above yours. “You make your husband pull out?”

Johnny jaw locks, flexing at the sides where his cheeks start to hollow. His muscles tight and corded from staving off the release he so desperately wants to fill you with, release he wants to keep you full of, watch it swallowed up ensuring you have a piece of him inside of you forever.

“Johnny..” You whimper, pushing a palm against his chest as fresh tears line the rims of your eyes. “S’too much.. can’t anymore.”

“Liar.” Johnny can feel moisture itching at the backs of his eyes, ready to tear up himself from the way your tits bounce with every brutal jostle of your bodies colliding together. “What happened to handling big things, huh?”

A wash of pride puffs out his chest, dipping at his waist as he drives every inch of his length inside, the stretch hurting more now as he barrels another orgasm out of you, much weak this time, still gushing enough clear liquid out to drip down past his balls.

“Fuck, you’re such a mess for me.” Johnny can feel his long overdue orgasm building to its breaking point. Choking on his saliva as he focuses on where the two of you connect, cock drenched with the glisten of your never ending release. “Look so pretty when you’re getting fucking ruined.”

“Joh-johnn—“ You try to speak, digging your nails into his chest, may as well be babbling in another language for all he cares. “Too big for me, too m-much.. please..”

His hips finally come to a stand still, groaning from the depths of his chest in a guttural tone. Johnny should be ashamed of the whined shout that breaks out of him, fucking into you with three rapid fire thrusts that send him over the edge. Pushed hard enough to lurch him forward, boneless as he plants on top of you and punches the air from your chest with his, the hold on your thighs weakened, flopping your legs around his sides numbly as his cock throbs against your insides. The tip of it painting your cervix with spurt after spurt of thick white ropes.

Johnny’s not sure he’s ever cum this hard before, the sensation rattles up his spine, buried balls deep as he trembles and falls apart. The amount of release is too much, pouring out around his thick size to drip it’s way down between his inner thighs; sticky and hot where it glues his skin together with each slight circle of his hips. “Fuckfuckfuck..”

Between his eyelashes fluttering, Johnny watches your chest heave, mind continuing to spiral from your release. He thinks you’re the prettiest woman he’s ever seen, especially fucked full of him, euphorically blissed out at his hands. He knew you’d be even prettier after ruining you, stripping you down to submit for him.

Mine. Should be mine. Fucked like you’re all mine.

Drawing back from between your legs as slowly as possible, Johnny admires how wrecked your core appears, twitching around his size as each inch glides free. It’d be a shame to waste all this cum, if not for how debauched and pretty your cunt looked like this. Covered in release that you took out of him. Mine. Mine. All mine.

“So.. Mrs. Jeong..” Johnny falls to your side, huffing as he lands.

“Ugh.” Smacking his chest, you roll your eyes. “Stop calling me that.”

Johnny licks up your neck, biting down on your jaw until you let out a pained squeak. “I’ll have to come back next summer, don’t you think?”

His pouty lips litter kisses higher, tugging your earlobe between his teeth with a light teasing bite. “Maybe even Christmas, Thanksgiving? Hmm, I know how busy your husband can get.”

“What would my husband think? Suddenly his son's friend has decided to hang around every holiday?”

“Best friend, you know Mr. Jeong says I'm always welcome. A polite and intelligent young man such as myself.” Johnny informs, lapping at your ear between words. “He really thinks of me as his own son.”

“My husband’s a very cunning man..” You retort, twisting your neck to face him. “He managed to make me his, you know.”

Johnny’s eyes flicker over your face, the regular pace your chest rises and falls at again, thumbing at your bottom lip. “He’s smart.”

“Really smart..”

“I’m smarter.” Johnny says confidently, pushing the tip of his thumb past your lips. “And I always get what I want.”

Always get what’s mine.

#johnny suh smut #johnny smut #nct johnny #nct 127 smut #nct smut #neopuppy fics #johnny suh fanfic #onek #johnny suh scenarios #johnny suh drabbles #nct au

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zepskies · 7 months

Text

The Miracle Man

Pairing: Boaz Priestly x F. Reader

Summary: The first time you met Priestly was both the worst and best night of your life. He gave you a Miracle.

AN: Here’s the prequel to Code Red! (But this can also be read as stand alone.) I hope you enjoy. And just a note, remember this was circa 2007, still the era of flip phones and iPods, despite the advent of the iPhone.

Word Count: 3,500

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only for mature talk. A kind of meet cute, insecurities, angst, breakups, hurt/comfort, sandwiches, fluff and feels.

He was a lone ranger in the Wild West. His weapon of choice?

A dirty mop.

Priestly bopped his head to the music playing from his earbuds. His iPod was tucked in his right jean pocket while he speared the mop across the floor of the sandwich shop. It was three minutes to closing time on a Saturday night, and it was his turn to clean up and lock up.

He was looking forward to getting home, taking a shower, and diving face-first into his bed. But first, he just needed to kill three minutes.

Come on, come on, come oooon, he sang in his mind as the hands on his watch ticked on. While glancing down at said watch, he remembered it had been a gift from Tish for his birthday…

Three months ago. When they were still together.

Priestly heaved a sigh. What were you supposed to do with gifts from your ex that you actually liked? The gifts that made it into your everyday life, not just because they were from the person you thought you loved, but because it was actually hella practical and a nice accessory to keep on your person?

It’s just a damn watch. Don’t make it a big deal, he reminded himself. What was he supposed to do, have a ritual burning of everything Tish had ever touched?

That would take all damn night. And he definitely drew a line at his dick.

“Hello?”

The front door of the shop opened, the little bell Trucker installed chiming with too much cheer and startling Priestly out of his thoughts.

“We’re closed,” he said. But that was before he looked up, and had to pause in his mopping.

You were standing there, holding yourself in the open doorway with the cold breeze hitting your back. You were wearing a red cocktail dress and the highest black heels he’d ever seen, with your styled hair falling around your shoulders.

You were entirely too beautiful to be in this old sandwich shop, he thought. It had Priestly swallowing, frozen in time.

“Really? The sign says 10,” you pointed out. There was a level of desperation in your eyes. “Please, you’re the only place with the lights still on and I’ve been all up and down the block.”

Blinking out of his idiotic state, Priestly looked down at his watch again. It was exactly 9:59 p.m.

Well, damn. Got me on a technicality.

He held in a sigh.

“Okay, come on in,” he waved you over. Setting down his mop, he rounded the counter and went to man the register. He gave you a minute to peruse the menu. He noted that aside from your stunning attire, you had a cell phone in your hand that clearly couldn’t fit in that little purse hanging off your shoulder, bumping along your hip.

He couldn’t help but visually trace the curves of your hips and waist, back up to the sweetheart neckline of the dress, the deeper shade of your lipstick and up to your face.

But then he felt bad for staring, so he looked up heavenward before you caught him.

Meanwhile, your eyes drifted from the menu and dipped to his chest for a moment.

“Too bad I’m not gay,” you said.

What? Priestly frowned in confusion. But following your gaze, he realized you were staring at his yellow shirt, which read in big, 70s-style letters: Be Gay & Proud, Get a Free Drink.

His lips twitched at a grin, and he looked up at you. “D’you know what you want?”

You had a smile starting to play on your lips as well. You went back to considering your choices.

“Not sure, but I’m starving. What do you recommend?” you asked.

Priestly’s lips puckered as he considered the menu he knew by heart.

“Well, if you wanna go classic, I’d do a Spicy Italian on white bread. If you wanna be adventurous, we just added the Jalapeño Buffalo Chicken Club," he said. "But, if you wanna get crazy awesome, I can put on some Zeppelin and make you something special of my own design.”

He colored that last option with a gesture of his hand, a flourish, if you will. You tilted your head at him and smiled.

“Okay. Surprise me, Sandwich Man.”

Priestly snorted while he washed his hands again. “Sounds like the lamest superhero ever.”

“With his death-defying salami summoning powers,” you quipped, with a giggle that had him smiling as well.

“Nice alliteration,” he said. And he made a show of tying his apron back on. “Don’t worry, ma’am. Your late-night hoagie is safe with me.”

You tried to stifle another laugh while he worked his magic. From bread to meats and cheeses and toppings, Priestly was a master of his craft. He had that 12” hero wrapped and sliding across the counter towards you in record time.

“I call this the ‘Miracle,’” he winked. “You’ll see why. But that’ll be $10 even.”

You nodded and turned to the purse on your hip. You opened up the little velvety thing, but your face fell when all you found was your keys, not your credit card.

“No.” Your heart dropped into your stomach. You opened your purse wider and flipped through the satin insides, but you saw that it was empty. “You’ve gotta be shitting me. I know I had my wallet in here…”

And then it dawned on you.

“That fucking asshole,” you growled.

Priestly’s eyes widened. “Uh…”

Your head snapped up to his. “I had a different purse picked out for tonight. You know, one that actually had my wallet in it? But my know-it-all boyfriend had the nerve to say, ‘That one’s too shiny, looks kinda cheap. This is a restaurant at the Ritz-Carlton, not a hooker hangout.’ Can you believe that?”

Priestly blinked in confusion, but he realized that in your purse shuffling, you had no way to pay for this amazing sandwich he’d just concocted.

And now, you actually had the beginnings of frustrated tears in your eyes as you took in a shuddering breath.

“I’m so sorry,” you said. “I can’t—I can’t pay for this. I don’t have my wallet… Hold on, let me see if he’ll…”

You held up a finger and started dialing manically on your phone. You held it up to your ear and waited. Your tears sprang forth anew when the line just kept ringing until it sent you to voicemail.

“Figures,” you scoffed. “The one time I actually need this douchebag to answer, he ignores me!”

You slammed the phone down on the counter and covered your face with your hand as you sniffled. Priestly softened with sympathy. You seemed to be having a harder night than he thought.

He slid the sandwich your way, making you raise your head.

“It’s okay. This one’s on the house,” he said. “Looks like you could use a pick-me-up.”

Your watery eyes met his. “Really? You don’t have to…”

“No worries,” he replied, giving you a bit of charm in his grin. “I’ll even throw in a soda. Lady’s choice.”

Your lower lip trembled, but you were able to smile. With a quiet thank you, you wiped under your eyes carefully so your mascara wouldn’t run. Then you grabbed a Coke from the machine along with your sandwich from the counter.

“Do you mind if I eat here?” you asked, gesturing at one of the tables. “I promise I won’t leave a mess. I know you’re trying to close up.”

Priestly waved a dismissive hand. “Sure. Don’t worry about it.”

He went around the counter to take up his mop and continue where he left off in the cleaning process. But he couldn’t help but eye you every now and then. Curiosity was starting to eat him alive.

Had your boyfriend just dumped you here? Had you gone off alone? Somehow, he couldn’t see the first option happening. If you were his girlfriend, he would do his best not to let you walk away angry at him, let alone this late at night, without any money or even your ID.

“Are you coming from a party or something?” he found himself asking. You looked up from your second bite of the sandwich. You’d looked to have been truly enjoying it, uttering a moan that’d caught his attention.

“No,” you chuckled humorlessly around a mouthful of bread. “I was supposed to meet his parents. His rich, very bougie, hyper-critical parents. Somehow it didn’t occur to me that he was just like them.”

Priestly paused and leaned on his mop. He was hesitant, not wanting to disturb you while you were eating, but he was too damn hooked.

“So…what happened?” he asked. You scoffed and took another massive bite of your sandwich.

“Okay, you want to hear this? Fine,” you began. “So, I’m a stress eater by nature. Let’s just start with that.”

“Who isn’t?” Priestly supplied. Pursing your lips, you raised a black olive at him in a thank you gesture.

“But when I tell you I spent three months depriving myself to fit into this dress. No carbs, cheese, chocolate, or happiness.”

He grimaced. “That’s no way to live.”

“Exactly!” you concurred. “But I did all that so my boyfriend would have nothing to say when I finally met his parents for this dinner—to celebrate him graduating from med school.”

Priestly found himself dimming inside. Not only were you spoken for, but you were with a future doctor, no less. The only title Priestly had to his name was Sandwich Man.

“It started with the purse thing when he picked me up. Then when we get there, he keeps telling me how stuffy his dad is and how judge-y and critical his mom can be and how I’m a reflection on him,” you mocked in an impression of his voice.

“Then I find myself second-guessing every word that might come out of my mouth, and I’m too nervous to even eat the $60 plate of Chilean sea bass in front of me, and not to mention, there’s a glass of wine in my hand. I don’t even like wine!”

By now, it was all Priestly could do to keep up with your verbal spitfire. You were also gesticulating wildly with your sandwich the more worked up you got.

“I mean, I’m saying things I don’t say, and suddenly I realize that I’ve wrapped myself up in so many knots for this man, I don’t even recognize myself,” you confessed. Your eyes lit up with a gleam of clarity. Your hands lowered down to the table, and after a beat, you continued eating.

“But then my boyfriend of over a year turns to me and says, ‘Why are you being so weird and frigid?’” you said. You met Priestly’s eyes. “I just, I got so mad. I wanted to choke him out with my napkin, you know?”

He bit his lip to stifle a laugh.

“So instead of violence, I grabbed the glass of pinot noir, or chardon-perignon-whatever-the-fuck, and I poured it in his lap,” you concluded. “Then I walked out. And I ignored his calls. And I kept walking. Then a nice guy made me a sandwich.”

Priestly had to smile at that. He knew there was a Ritz-Carlton in the area, but that had to be almost a mile down the street. You’d walked a long way in those crazy-ass heels.

He propped his mop against a nearby table and sat down across from you. He shook his head in wonderment. And inside, your words kind of rattled him.

I’ve wrapped myself up in so many knots, I don’t even recognize myself.

“You know, sometimes I really, really wish I was gay,” you said, gesturing at his shirt.

“O-Oh…really?” he asked, raising his brows.

“Yeah, I do,” you answered. “I’m a quick study. I could learn to eat pussy.”

If he had been drinking something, he would’ve spat it out. He mentally fumbled for a moment before he could articulate a response.

“Well, I don’t doubt you, but it can be an acquired taste. Though I happen to like it,” he replied, grinning mostly to himself. He didn’t even think about how it might come out though.

As soon as he realized what he was saying to a perfect stranger, his eyes widened and met yours.

"Uh, sorry," he said.

But you just chortled in amusement. Your blush intensified though, along with your smile as you took a sip of your soda.

“You’re uh…you’re pretty awesome,” he said. And he meant that.

You blinked in surprise. Your lips twitched upwards, a blush rosy in your cheeks.

“Yeah?” you asked. His smile deepened.

“Yeah,” he replied. “And for the record, I know I just met you, but…I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Your face softened with a certain shyness, but you smiled at him through your lashes.

“Well, I appreciate that…” you trailed, realizing you didn’t yet know his name.

“Priestly,” he offered, along with his hand across the table. You slipped your smaller hand in his and gave him your name.

Though you quirked a brow at him. “Priestly? That’s your first name?”

Now it was his turn to get a little embarrassed.

“Uh, no,” he said, his gaze falling from yours. He scratched the back of his head, under the blue mohawk.

“Oh. What is it, then?” you asked.

“You don’t want to know,” he chuckled wryly.

“I think I do, or I wouldn’t be asking,” you countered. Your smile was playful though. Disarming, even.

“It’s um, it’s Boaz,” he admitted. You tilted your head, as if swirling the name around in your head. But you didn’t say it was weird, or stupid, or too biblical. You just smiled.

“Boaz Priestly. Interesting,” you nodded. Then you wrapped up your garbage, having eaten all of your sandwich. You made sure to collect every crumb, even though he’d told you not to worry about the mess. You got up to take it to the trashcan near the door.

“How’re you getting home?” he asked.

You bit your lip. The anxiety in your eyes told him you’d been pondering that same question. You let out a deep breath.

“I guess I’ll have to walk back to the hotel, try to get a ride from my b…my ex-boyfriend. Gotta get used to saying that,” you said. “I promise I’ll pay you back for the sandwich.”

“Didn’t I tell you it was on me? Don’t worry about that,” said Priestly. “But I’ll tell you what, let me give you a ride.”

You shook your head. “Oh, thank you, but we just met, and I—”

Just then, Priestly realized how his offer sounded. He didn’t want to creep you out.

“Ah, or I can get you a cab,” he said. “I doubt you want to see that guy again tonight, do you?”

You bit your lip, smudging some of the scarlet red lipstick there. It distracted him for a moment, but he returned his gaze to your eyes.

You sighed. As much as you didn’t want to impose again, you let Priestly call you a cab. He paid for it in advance after you gave the cabbie your address. Before you got in the car, you turned to Priestly and touched his arm.

“Thank you,” you said. “I promise, I’ll come tomorrow and pay you back.”

He smiled. “You can try.”

He earned your sweet smile back, and he watched you get into the cab. He tried not to raise his hopes up, but he really did hope he’d see you tomorrow.

And yet, he should’ve known it was too good to be true.

“Maybe she got caught up at work or something,” Jen tried to console him the next day at closing, after you didn’t show up.

“It’s Sunday,” he pointed out grumpily. He continued to wipe down Table 4 of some nasty residue of mayo and pickled radish.

“You don’t know what kind of job she has,” Piper interjected. She was making a tuna salad sub on wheat for the last customer, which she then passed on to Tish at the register. “Maybe she’s in retail, or she’s in the restaurant business too—or hey, a lifeguard! This is a beach town after all.”

“Or maybe, she just played you into getting free food and a ride home,” Tish suggested, with her usual brand of cutting sarcasm. It just tended to cut a bit deeper these days, whenever it was leveled at Priestly.

The post-breakup thing had been tense and awkward for everyone, and it still hadn’t normalized just yet in their little sandwich-making ecosystem. Jen shot her friend a look though, one that told her she was being bitchy.

The problem was, she’d only voiced what Priestly was thinking anyway, deep down.

“Amazing, serendipitous things don’t happen to me, Piper,” he said. “Not anymore.”

He continued cleaning.

Three weeks later, it happened on a Friday afternoon.

It was one of their busiest times of the week. Tish was at the register as usual, Jen was sorting through the inventory and bussing tables, and Priestly was making hero after hero like a fiend, alongside Piper. He was definitely living up to his name of Sandwich Man.

He was still able to recognize your voice near the register.

“One 12” Miracle, please,” you requested.

“Um…we don’t have that on the menu,” Tish replied. But Priestly looked over with a grin. He met your gaze, and found you smiling back at him.

Tish followed the exchange with suspicion.

“One Miracle, coming up!” Priestly called out.

He had the order ready within minutes, but he was painstaking about it, not an olive out of place. He wrapped it up nicely and walked it over to the register himself, placing it in front of you on the counter.

“Well, hi there,” he greeted.

A familiar blush spread across your face, just as endearing as he remembered. The only thing different about you so far was your clothes. No longer dressed to the nines, you were more casual in your jeans, ankle boots, and V-necked top.

In every other way, you were the same. It might’ve been making his heart trip up.

“Hi,” you said. “Got a minute, Miracle Man?”

Priestly ducked his head, hiding a more bashful smile. Before he could respond, Tish interrupted, “That’ll be $10.”

You nodded and handed her a $50 bill. She looked at you in confusion.

“The rest is a tip, for the hero makers,” you explained, glancing at both Priestly and Piper. He gave you an incredulous smile.

You little minx, he thought. He couldn’t say no if you were tipping Piper too.

But he did ask Jen to help fill in for him while he made his way around the counter to go to you. Tish just watched the scene unfold with a silent frown, like she was trying to make sense of what was happening. She always thought she’d be the first one to move on.

“Let’s talk outside. Little more privacy from the peanut gallery,” Priestly said to you, tossing a knowing glance over his shoulder. You spotted all the employees now watching you and Priestly closely.

You became a touch more shy as he led you out of the shop with a hand resting on the small of your back. You slipped your sandwich into a larger purse than last time. Then you looked up at him with apologetic eyes.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to come back here,” you said. “It got a bit…ugly, after that night.”

Priestly’s brows furrowed in concern. “Ugly?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” you assured him. “Lots of shouting and empty threats, then half-assed apologies. But I’m done with all that.”

Priestly considered that with a nod. “Well, good. I’m glad to hear you’re doing better.”

You stared up at his face, and you thought he really seemed to mean that. You knew you shouldn’t be feeling that familiar flutter in your stomach, not three weeks after breaking up from a year-long relationship. Even so, the night you walked out of this shop, you felt free. Like you could breathe again.

You felt like you.

So now, you leaned up and kissed Priestly on the cheek.

His eyes widened a fraction as he stared down at you. You smiled and grasped his hand.

“Would you maybe want to…ask me out sometime?” you asked. A nervous giggle escaped you, making him smile.

“Y-Yeah, I would. If you’re sure you want me to,” he replied. In the past, maybe he would’ve let his excitement get the best of him. He’d be trying to jump at this chance. Experience had taught him not to hope too hard though. Sometimes, getting what you wished for backfired in your face.

You squeezed his hand, earning his attention.

“Why wouldn’t I?” you asked. Your smile became teasing before you used his words against him. “From what I’ve seen so far, you’re pretty awesome. But mostly pretty.”

He had to laugh at that. Pretty was not something he’d ever been called in life. Weird, freak, try-hard goth—that was all familiar territory. His tattoos and piercings tended to bring that out in people.

But he gathered some courage and squeezed your hand back.

“Well, you’re beautiful,” he said, thumbing at your chin. His eyes met yours and got lost there for a moment. “Uh, really beautiful.”

You blushed further and bit your lower lip out of habit. It drew his gaze, and he gained a little more courage. He tilted your chin upwards, so he could find those lips easier in a kiss. Your fingers curled in the front of his shirt and brought him closer. His hand found your cheek as he angled deeper into the kiss.

Despite the chill on the air, the California sun was warm and beating down on you both.

It was the perfect day for a Miracle.

AN: How I love Priestly lol. If you liked this, let me know! 💜

Priestly Masterlist

Main Masterlist

BP Tag List:

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373 @brianochka @branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @globetrotter28

@charmed-asylum @waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady @leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @emily-winchester @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy @kmc1989 @siampie @sanscas @kaleldobrev

@waters-2567 @pieandmonsters @akshi8278 @deans-spinster-witch @jackles010378 @idiotdyslexic @heartlessdelusions @chriszgirl92

#The Miracle Man #Code Red Prequel #10 Inch Hero #Boaz Priestly #Boaz Priestly x reader #Boaz Priestly x female reader #Boaz Priestly x you #jensen ackles characters #jensen ackles #Priestly x reader #Priestly x you #Priestly #Priestly x female reader #zepskies writes

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sarcasticbeanie · 2 years

Text

it’s time for a life-changing roadtrip i guess

[ID: A full body drawing of Jason Todd and Roy Harper from DC Comics. They are sitting on the top of a red van, talking to each other. Jason has dark hair with white stripes at the front, and is wearing a grey T-shirt saying “I’m a Jersey Girl. 1. Dirty mind, 2. Caring friend, 3. Potty mouth, 4. Good heart, 5. Smart ass, 6. Kind soul, 7. Sinner, 8. Thick thighs. I never said I was perfect”. He’s also wearing black pants, and brown combat boots. He has scars on his face, neck and arms. He’s wearing black nail polish and simple black bracelets. He has a hearing aid in his right ear. He is gesturing at Roy with one hand, and holding a Sprite can in the other. There’s an open book on his lap. He looks like he’s complaining. Roy has ginger hair, and is wearing a green trucker hat backwards on his head. He’s wearing a white tank top with a yellow arrow pointing up on it, blue jeans, and black and white sneakers. He has brown archer gloves on both hands, and has a grey prosthetic right arm. He's holding a coke can in one hand, and pointing a finger gun at Jason with his left. He's sitting on a green pillow. He’s smiling. The van they’re on has blue curtains at it’s windows, and has its door open. In the van there’s a table with a map, an arrow, some tools and a few screws on it. Under the table, there’s a box with soft drinks and snacks. There’s a sofa on each side of the table. The red hood helmet is on the left sofa, and there’s a purple blanket with the spoiler symbol and a yellow pillow with the signal symbol on the right sofa. On the wall of the van, a brown jacket and a black trucker hat is hanging on the left side. There are pictures hanging on the right side, depicting Roy’s daughter Lian, and members of the batfamily in a simplistic style. A sunset over the sea can be seen through the side window of the van. End ID.]

#beanie art #dc #jason todd #roy harper #royjay #jayroy #r they romantic? besties? qpr? i literally don’t know.#the id makes the drawing seem a lot more detailed than it is. screams #Jason is demi and/or aroace. to me.#I hope the ID is sufficient!!!!!! i don’t quite know how to do one so thank all of y’all who taught me #also I want to see a red-arse roadtrip so so bad. it would be fun I think.#red hood #arsenal #lian harper #batfamily

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witchywithwhiskey · 6 months

Note

🌝 booping trucker!ari while cockwarming

Chi, you wonderful menace, you have no idea what you've done to me!! this was going to be a short little scene and then it turned into THIS i'm sorry

bored on the road

pairing: dark trucker!ari levinson x female reader

summary: you're bored on the road and it gets you into trouble.

warnings: 18+ content (minors do not interact!!!), smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, creampie, cock warming, object insertion, sadism/masochism, slight bratting/brat taming, choking, breathplay, painplay, face slapping, come play/come eating, exhibitionism, dirty talk, daddy kink, heavy degradation, some praise, brief objectification, pet names (sweetheart, baby, kiddo), possessive sex, tiny bit of aftercare, possessive behavior, controlling behavior, a mean hot man

word count: 4.7k

a/n: i know we're like almost a week past the tumblr boop fest but work was rough this week so apologies that this is a little late!!! also uh, this got way filthier than i was expecting so please enjoy i guess?? 😅

trucker king masterlist

Your head lay on Ari’s shoulder, the warm afternoon sunlight streaming in through the window of his truck and landing on your face, making you sleepy. But, though you were comfortable with your legs straddling Ari’s lap and your chest pressed so close to his that you could feel his heart beating against your sternum, sleep didn’t come.

You sat on your trucker’s lap, your bodies joined in the most intimate way while he navigated his rig through the frustratingly dull traffic on a dusty highway somewhere in the midwest. Both of you were quiet—Ari because he shut down all your attempts at conversation and you because you’d grown tired of trying to get him to talk.

Though he wouldn’t talk, Ari wanted you on his lap, your tight, soft hole keeping him warm while he drove. You’d acquiesced as always, happy to follow his command, to be useful and connected to your trucker.

Still, you were bored.

You’d turned your head to look out the window, but with traffic creeping along so slowly and nothing but the endless, barren desert stretching out beyond the road, there wasn’t much to look at. You could feel a restlessness thrumming beneath your skin, urging you to move, to do something, even as you tried to push it down.

Ari had made it clear he didn’t want to talk, and you knew well enough he wanted you to be a quiet, well-behaved little cockwarmer. You wanted to be that for him, you wanted to be content with cockwarming him like you so often were, but that restlessness clawed through your body until you finally succumbed to its siren’s song.

Sitting up straight, you wiggled your hips, watching your trucker’s face for a reaction as his cock shifted deep in your cunt. Though you knew it felt good for him, Ari merely grunted at the sensation, flicking a warning glare at you. Pouting, you squeezed him with your inner walls, clenching down hard enough to wring a huffed sound of exasperation out of him.

“Sit still,” he scolded in a low, rumbling growl, his words barely discernible in his gruff grumble. One of his hands shifted from the steering wheel to your lower back, pressing you down on his cock so the tip of him ground against a spot inside you that made your lashes flutter with pleasure.

Instead of settling you, his words and his hand on your back only made the frustrating restlessness worse. So you stared at your trucker in quiet contemplation for a moment.

Ari’s handsome face was hardened into a severe expression as he stared out at the unrelenting traffic clogging the interstate. His blue eyes were dulled with boredom and frustration of his own, the edges of his mouth pulled down in a frown framed perfectly but his dark beard. His brown hair hung down on either side of his face, calling attention to his handsomeness—and his unhappiness.

An idea came to you suddenly. A terrible idea. A wonderfully terrible idea.

Before you could think better of it, you booped Ari on the nose.

“Boop,” you chirped, pulling your finger away quickly. You knew the probability of retaliation from your trucker was high, though you weren’t certain what form it would take.

However, instead of growling or yelling at you to get back to being a quiet little cockwarmer, Ari simply cut his eyes to yours briefly. He raised an eyebrow, managing to look condescending even as he asked a silent question. He didn’t wait for a response, though, before he looked away from you and back out at the dusty road.

You huffed a little annoyed sigh at being essentially ignored by your trucker, your lips pursing in an even deeper pout. Though it was clear Ari didn’t like being booped, you refused to be deterred.

Tapping Ari’s nose again with your finger, you trilled, “Boop!” even louder than before.

Still, your trucker gave you nothing in the way of a compelling response. You should’ve seen the trap for what it was, but then, you were the one who got into Ari’s rig in the first place.

Determined to get a reaction out of your trucker, you pressed your finger to the tip of Ari’s nose like you were holding down a button and droned, “Booooop!”

Quicker than you would’ve thought possible, Ari tipped his head back and caught your finger between his teeth. He nipped at your skin hard enough to scold, but not break skin. It was so sudden, it shocked you.

“Ah!” you squealed at the sting of his teeth, the surprised sound dissolving into a giggle. You tried to pull your finger free, but Ari bit down a little harder.

His eyes cut to yours, a mirthful reprimand in his sparkling blue eyes. They practically shone in the warm afternoon light filtering into the truck cab.

“Daddy,” you whined, squirming your hips, the slight pain of his teeth digging into your skin going straight to your core. A soft moan slipped from your lips when you felt your trucker’s hard length twitch within your cunt, making you grind down on him as subtly as you could, trying to eke out the delicious friction of his cock rubbing inside of you. “I’m sorry for booping you,” you mumbled, pouting at your trucker. “I’m just bored.”

With one last nip to the pad of your finger, Ari let you go. However, he clearly wasn’t done with you because a moment later, his hand circled the front of your throat and he held you still, pinning you with his ruthless gaze.

A shiver of anticipation raced down your spine and you tried desperately not to show how much you enjoyed finally having your trucker’s attention.

“Aw baby, why didn’t you tell me you were bored,” Ari cooed in a mockingly sweet tone. It was the one he used just before he got really mean. Your heart beat faster with excitement.

His fingertips digging into your neck were a second warning, Ari’s hand squeezing your throat so tight, an involuntary whimper slipped past your lips. Instead of fear, though, there was only heady arousal dripping through your body, pooling in your core and leaking out around Ari’s stiff cock.

“Since warming daddy’s cock is so boring,” Ari began, his voice lowering into a deep, seething growl as he squeezed your throat even tighter, choking off your air supply. “Let’s see how you like it when daddy makes you ride something else, huh, fucktoy?”

You barely had time to grin at the malicious glimmer in Ari’s eye before he was forcing you off his lap and down onto the floor between the driver’s and passenger seats. The sting of pain in your knees as they collided with the hard floor scarcely registered when you were too curious about what your trucker had planned for you.

Ari shifted his grip to your chin and pushed your face against the gearshift sitting in front of you, the thick, leather-wrapped knob at eye-level from where you knelt.

The realization of what Ari expected you to do struck you like a freight train, stealing the breath from your lungs as your eyes widened. Even as your mind went blank with surprise, something dark and filthy deep inside your body twitched with interest, coming alive at the thought of sinking your pussy down on the gearshift of Ari’s truck.

“Lick daddy’s gearshift, sweetheart,” Ari ordered, mocking condescension dripping from his tone. Then your heart nearly stopped when he confirmed he wanted you to do exactly what you’d suspected. “You’re gonna wanna make it nice and slick if you don’t want it to hurt when you fuck yourself on it.”

Your eyes went heavy-lidded as you let Ari’s words wash over you, your pussy throbbing with desire and your lips dropping open in a silent moan. However, your trucker wasn’t an especially patient man, so he pushed your mouth against the gearshift, urging you to follow his command.

You knew well enough to follow any order Ari gave you, so you wrapped your hands around the shaft of the gearshift and pulled yourself closer. Pressing your lips to the leather and plastic of the shifter, you kissed all over it, making sure to leave plenty of drool behind.

“That’s it, cock slut,” Ari rumbled, his tone pleased. You could see out of the corner of your eye that he was flicking his gaze between you and the road, depraved delight sparkling in his eyes. “Show daddy’s gear stick some love.” His big hand settled heavily on the crown of your head, pushing your lips harder against the leather handle.

You redoubled your efforts, licking and kissing the gearshift until your lips and chin were covered in your own saliva. It was sloppy and messy, but you could tell from Ari’s warm chuckle that he enjoyed the sight of you making out with his truck’s shifter.

“You’re drooling all over that knob like you wish it was your new boyfriend, cock whore,” Ari teased, a wickedness in his tone that made your pussy throb and clench desperately around nothing. A soft whine caught in the back of your throat, but Ari heard the pathetic sound, laughing harder at you. “Is that it, gross girl?” he asked mockingly. “Ya wanna make daddy’s gearshift your new boyfriend?”

Using his grip on your head, he made you nod, rubbing your mouth lewdly against the slick leather knob. You whimpered, clutching the long shaft of the lever so you weren’t tempted to shove you hand between your thighs and impale yourself on your fingers. You were dripping down your thighs and you wanted something to shove deep in your aching, throbbing pussy.

“Well get him nice and wet, baby,” Ari said, the laughter in his tone stealing some of the edge from his command. “Cause he’s going in that tight cunt of yours—we’re gonna see how much we can stretch and ruin that needy little hole of yours.”

Ari’s hand left the back of your head, giving you room to lick and kiss and drool over the gearshift to your heart’s content. Distantly, you felt the drift of the truck as it slowly merged into another lane, but you were too preoccupied with your task to care much about the traffic Ari was navigating.

When your trucker was satisfied with your work, he grabbed the back of your neck and yanked you away from the gearshift. A protesting whine fell from your lips, which made Ari laugh loudly, the sound cold and mean as it filled the truck and made you hotter with desire.

“Time to fuck your new boyfriend, sweetheart,” Ari mocked, looking pointedly at the slick gearshift then back at you. “Let’s see if you’re still bored when you’re stretching your tight cunt on daddy’s gear stick.” His eyes danced with wicked mirth as he stared down at you from the driver’s seat, squeezing your neck when you didn’t immediately move to follow his command.

On trembling legs, you stood, bending at the waist to fit within the confines of the truck cab and turned around. If your bare ass was on display for any cars or trucks around Ari’s rig, neither of you cared. Thankfully, the oversized t-shirt your wore covered most of you.

As quickly as you could manage, you positioned yourself above the flat top of the gearshift and reached between your thighs to hold the shaft steady. You lowered yourself down onto the knob, the slick leather pushing against your dripping pussy.

However, though you were soaking wet with arousal and the gearshift was covered in your drool, the broad leather handle met resistence from your cunt, which refused to give and allow the thick object inside your small hole. No matter how you shifted or pushed down on the gearshift, it wouldn’t sink into your sopping pussy. A whine worked its way up your throat, leaking from your lips and filling the truck cab with your frustration.

“It’s too big, daddy,” you whimpered as you struggled, your thighs beginning to shake from the awkward way you hovered above the gearshift.

“Aw, baby,” Ari cooed before his voice turned cold and mean, “Do you think I fucking care?” He wrapped his hand around your throat, squeezing the sides until your eyes flicked to his. His blue gaze danced in the afternoon sunlight with depraved intent. “I was perfectly content with you sitting in my lap, your cunt keeping my cock warm,” he growled, sounding furious as his gaze flicked between you and the road. “But you were bored—so you’re gonna fuck daddy’s gear stick or I’m gonna find something bigger to shove in that needy cunt of yours.”

Ari’s ruthless words had your pussy throbbing in response, more arousal dripping from your slit and onto the knob between your thighs. It was all you could do to whimper with desperation and rock against the leather shifter, your cunt aching to be filled.

The gearshift rubbed between your folds, teasing your little hole with its broadness. With renewed determination, you pushed down on the lever, pressing against it until your pussy’s resistence gave way and you finally—finally—felt the thick knob slip past the tight rim of your cunt’s entrance.

A loud, pornographic groan fell from your lips as your jaw dropped and your eyes rolled back in your head at the feeling of Ari’s gearshift sinking into your pussy. There was the burning sting of the thick, unyielding lever inside your stretched cunt, but the sensation softened into waves of pleasure that threatened to carry you away to a sea of ecstasy.

You craved more of that deliciously aching pleasure, so you pushed down on the gearshift, taking the leather knob deep inside your cunt. It felt like your pussy was greedy for more with how easy it was to lower yourself further on the shifter, until the top hit the end of you and you couldn’t take any more.

For a long moment, you hung suspended in the feeling of the fullness in your cunt, the leather knob so deep inside you, you were convinced that if you pressed down on your lower tummy, you’d be able to feel it. Your eyes were closed, mouth hanging open in pleasure-drunk bliss as you reveled in the sensation of having the strange object inside you.

However, your trucker clearly wasn’t happy that you’d forgotten you were putting on a depraved show for him, and he dragged your attention back to him in the meanest way possible.

Ari slapped you across the face, the cracking sound reaching your ears before you registered the sting. When the pain hit you, your pussy clenched tight around the gearshift inside you, and you moaned, blinking dazed eyes until your trucker came into focus. His blue gaze was dancing with amusement and cruel delight.

“Look at me while you ride your new boyfriend, cock whore,” Ari sneered meanly, his hand returning to your throat. He squeezed your neck lightly, a warning not to look away from him again. “Go on and degrade yourself for me, baby,” he rumbled, a grin slowly spreading across his handsome face. “Fuck yourself on my rig’s gear stick—show daddy what a disgusting little slut ya are.”

You stared into Ari’s eyes and moaned, your mouth parting and your gaze going heavy-lidded with pleasure at the depravity of his words. Your reaction only made Ari’s grin deepen, his eyes shimmering in the golden afternoon light filtering into the truck cab.

He kept looking back at the road, one hand on the wheel to steer the truck, the other around your neck. His attention was split because it had to be, but you had the compulsion to put on a show for him that was so distracting, he’d have trouble remembering to look away from you.

With that thought crystalizing in your mind, you lifted yourself up on the gearshift until only the top was lodged in your pussy, the knob stretching your tight hole to its limit, before sliding back down on the shaft. The lever was so stiff and unrelenting inside your body, the object so foreign, that a wicked shiver raced down your spine.

Your body knew it was taking something unnatural, something that was never meant to be shoved inside your slick hole. But you were riding it anyway, your pussy taking Ari’s gearshift like it was a cock and it turned you on more. Eagerly, you fucked Ari’s truck like it was him, bouncing on it happily, the knowledge that you were using something as perverse as a gearshift to get yourself off only making you gush even more with arousal.

“Daddy,” you whimpered on a moan, staring into Ari’s handsome face while you rode his gear stick. Pleasure and pain twisted your expression, your thighs trembling violently from holding you up, even as you kept fucking yourself on the leather knob.

“Ya still bored, cock whore?” Ari taunted, his hand around your throat pulling your upper body closer to him. Your nose brushed against the coarse hair of his beard and you moaned when you inhaled the familiar musky scent of your trucker.

The new position allowed you to brace your hands on Ari’s chest, and you nearly sobbed in relief as it took some of your weight off your shaking legs. The reprieve was so overwhelming, it took you a moment to gather your wits and answer Ari’s question.

“No, daddy, ‘m not bored at all,” you purred, using the new angle of your body to bounce your hips on the gearshift. The wet schlick sounds of your cunt fucking the knob filled the truck cab, and you let loose a low moan, the sound nearly muffled in Ari’s beard.

“Good girl,” he rasped, his hand squeezing your throat and moving you so he could see the pleasure dancing across your features. His gaze trailed down your body to where your ass was bouncing on his gear stick, his throat bobbing in front of your eyes as he swallowed thickly. “Good fucking girl.”

The look in his eye was nearly entranced and you couldn’t help but smirk a little to yourself. It had been a few seconds since he’d glanced at the road, and though you knew you were playing a dangerous game, you didn’t really think you’d cause Ari to crash his truck.

Probably.

“Fuck, daddy,” you whimpered, pouting your lips at your trucker and dragging his attention away from your ass. His darkening eyes fell to your lips, exactly like you wanted. “It’s so big inside me, my little pussy’s so full, daddy.” You batted your lashes at Ari, pleased to see his pupils dilate even more, until only a thin ring of blue remained.

“Christ, baby, you’re making me jealous of my fucking rig,” Ari groaned like he was in pain. His fingers dug into the sides of your neck while the hand that had been on the steering wheel moved to his cock. Your trucker used his knee to steer while he stroked himself in his fist. “Ya like your new boyfriend better than me?” Ari asked, something dangerous in his tone.

You almost giggled at the idea that you could like his truck’s gearshift better than his cock, but you bit the sound back knowing he was asking a serious question. Holding Ari’s gaze, you shook your head solemnly.

“No,” you said honestly. “Nothing’s better than your fat cock, daddy.” You trailed your fingers down Ari’s chest before wrapping them around the tip of his cock, both of you using your hands to stroke his hard length. “You fill me up so good, daddy, I love feeling you pump me full of your come.” You pressed a sweet kiss to his bearded cheek, the gesture so at odds with the filthiness of what you were both doing that it made it hotter.

“Fuck,” Ari ground out through clenched teeth. Then, something in him seemed to snap right before your eyes.

Suddenly, Ari’s hand was gone from around his cock. He gripped the wheel and swerved the truck to the side to pull onto the shoulder of the highway. The truck went half off the road, the bumpiness making you ride Ari’s gearshift harder, wringing a depraved moan from you that made his eyes flare with more wildness.

A thick cloud of dust swirled around the cab, but neither of you gave any thought to the fact that it would shield what you were about to do from everyone else on the road.

“In the back, baby,” your trucker growled, throwing on his hazards and reaching for his gearshift to put the rig in park.

For a second, Ari seemed stumped about what to do. Since the shifter was still buried in your pussy, he couldn’t grab it like he normally would. Instead, he opted to grab your hips in both hands and use your body to shift the truck into park.

A delicious shiver at the perverse obscenity of the action raced down your spine and you moaned loudly. There was something about Ari using your body as an extension of his truck that was so fucking hot, your mind went completely blank for a moment.

Then his hands released you and the need to be fucked rushed back into your body. Without thinking, you were tumbling forward, pulling yourself off the shifter with a whimper and crawling eagerly onto the cot in the back of the rig.

“Hope your new boyfriend loosened you up, fucktoy,” Ari growled as he followed you into the back, pushing you down onto your hands and knees at the edge of the bed. “Because I’m gonna use your cunt like it’s my own personal fleshlight.” He slapped your ass hard enough to make you jump and yelp before you relaxed back into position.

You were perched on the edge of the cot, your knees spread and back curved in an arch, head resting on your arms so your ass was up and on display for your trucker. Without any more warning, Ari slid his stiff, leaking cock into your slick, warm cunt.

Your trucker groaned loudly, the pleasured rumble warming your heart with pride as he buried his thick cock in your snug little pussy. A soft smile tugged at the edges of your mouth as Ari curled around you, covering your back with his chest, his hands reaching around to grope your tits through your cotton t-shirt.

“Christ, ya feel so fucking good, baby,” Ari growled, rolling his hips in tight circles, fucking you hard and fast.

The sound of your bodies clapping against each other drifted to your ears, adding to the pleasure gathering in a tight coil in your core. Your trucker’s face was pressed into the back of your neck, his breath hot and harsh against your skin, raising goosebumps all over your body.

“You’re still so fucking tight, cock slut,” Ari rasped, nipping at the underside of your jaw and making you clench down on his cock from even that brief bite of pain. “You were made to take my cock, weren’t ya, sweetheart—my cock and anything else I want, huh, kiddo?”

Ari’s husky chuckle and his degrading words ghosted over your cheek and you could do nothing else besides moan your response. You’d fuck anything he told you to fuck, riding his gearshift whenever he wanted, as long as he fucked you exactly like he was afterward. Ari’s cock filled you perfectly, like your body truly was made for him, the tip of him grinding against your cervix and making you see stars.

It seemed Ari didn’t need you to answer his question, because he went on speaking filth in your ear, one of his hands wrapping around your throat and choking you while the other groped your tits and plucked at your nipples.

“Ya gonna come on daddy’s dick, sweetheart?” he taunted, his tone mean and cruel and so cold it made your desire flare hotter. “Gonna cream all over your filthy trucker’s fat cock even after I made you fuck my gear stick, baby?”

Your lips moved, forming words before you could force them off your tongue. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, daddy,” you whispered, riding the edge of your release. Ari’s cock pummeled your cunt, pounding so deep you could feel him in your throat, and it was almost enough. “Please, daddy,” you cried, needing just a bit more stimulation to push you over.

Ari grunted in your ear, “Alright, kiddo,” before reaching between your thighs and finding your clit, slippery with your wetness. His thick fingers rubbed the aching nub and it was exactly what you needed.

With a piercing cry, you tumbled headfirst into an ocean of pleasure, your body going tight and taut as the coil in your core snapped, warm bliss flooding through you. Your cunt gripped Ari’s cock, choking his thick dick in a vise that made him groan viciously.

Your trucker rutted into you furiously, finding his release moments later. He buried his cock deep inside you and came, grunting his pleasure as he emptied his balls in your cunt. You moaned softly at the feeling of his hard length twitching inside you. His low groan as your cunt wrung every drop of seed from his dick filled you with satisfaction.

For a long moment, you and Ari savored the pleasure of your bodies together, but it couldn’t last. Your trucker didn’t linger—he couldn’t, not with his truck idling on the side of the highway.

Once he’d caught his breath, Ari pressed a rough kiss to your cheek before pulling out of you and shuffling up to the front. He collapsed into the driver’s seat while you fell onto your side, your eyes watching as he grabbed the gearshift and put the truck back in drive to pull back onto the highway.

Your eyelids were heavy with exhaustion, but you kept them open long enough to catch Ari licking your juices from his palm. An unmistakeable groan rumbled deep in your trucker’s chest when he tasted you and your pussy gave a week throb in response. Too tired to move, you smiled and sank into the waiting arms of the sleep that called to you.

However, Ari’s snapping fingers dragged you back into the world of the waking.

“Get up here and clean up your mess, kiddo,” Ari ordered, his voice gruff and stern.

There was a warmth to his tone that you recognized as the satisfaction you’d given him by making him come, and you couldn’t help smiling at your own pleased pride. But his words were a command all the same, and you knew what you had to do.

Gathering your strength, you hauled yourself up from the cot and shifted onto your knees between the two seats. You leaned into the gearshift and began licking your slick from the leather, turning your head enough to catch Ari’s eye. He wore a satisfied smirk, reaching down to pet your head as you did what he’d told you.

Humming happily, you smiled and cleaned up the gearshift like the good girl you wanted to be for your trucker. By the time you were done, the sun was low in the sky. The golden light in the truck had darkened into a fiery glow, and you felt the tug of sleep more insistently.

Ari chuckled when he noticed you were half-asleep and still licking his gearshift. He helped you into his lap, guiding you down onto his cock to keep him warm while he continued driving.

You fell asleep against your trucker’s chest, happy and satisfied, the restlessness that had plagued you earlier in the afternoon having been finally subdued by Ari.

Still, you’d discovered what Ari would do if you booped his nose, and you tucked that knowledge away, saving it for a rainy day when you were inevitably bored again. He was a truck driver after all, there were bound to be more boring days on the road. But you knew your trucker would make sure you were entertained—by making you entertain him.

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