#You can hear em say stuff like that | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jarofstyles · 3 months ago

Text

Merlot

Hello my lovely ducklings. I promised a good age gap DILF sorta thing and I’m here to hand ‘em over. He’s getting some silver at the temples and she’s loving every second of it. Let me know what you think 🍷

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WC- 8k

Warnings- age gap, dilfrry, smut, oral (m + f receiving) unprotected sex (please wrap it up irl), exhibitionism, daddy kink if you squint, and all the fun stuff.

“I hate to ask this cliche question, and it absolutely pains me to ask in such an uncouth way- but do you come here often?” Peeking over the rim of the glass, amber liquid brushed his top lip and the ice cubs clanked as the smoky liquor hit his tongue.

God knew what he was doing- the girl in front of him looked too young for him, but she had struck up the conversation first. Commenting on his silver lion’s head ring and asking where he’d gotten it, wide eyed and eager as she looked up at him with that pretty pout and mascara coated lashes. Perhaps it was the crippling loneliness of divorce, maybe it was the hint of a buzz of his second drink, or even a hint of desperation that had him continuing the conversation with the younger woman as she took the bar stool in front of him- but she seemed receptive. Leaning into the conversation and keeping eye contact, she played into him.

"Cliches can be cute sometimes." She laughed as she placed her own glass down, now empty. "I don't, no. I'm not one for the whole going out thing. Not anymore. I was in uni, but I think as soon as you graduate they take away your tolerance card." Rolling her eyes playfully she felt a lick of satisfaction in getting a chuckle out of him. "And what about you? Do you like to come to bars with overpriced drinks to talk to random people who decide to invade your bubble to ask where your pretty jewelry is from?"

"Well, I can't say I make a habit of it, but sometimes a man needs to escape the responsibilities of reality- and as much as I adore my pets, I think they’re tiring of hearing my voice.” He shook his head as he flexed his fingers, looking back down at the conversation starter. Pretty eyes met his own. It had been so long since he felt flustered but she had done a pretty good job at making him feel a little off kilter in the best way. A break from the mundane.

“I’ll have to agree with you on them revoking your tolerance once you exit uni. Though I will say it’s a blessing in disguise. I wasn’t terribly into partying in my last year, considering I’d started getting awful hangovers. Almost like s’bad for you, or something.” He teased, leaning against the bar top. It was clear that they’d shifted closer to each other through their conversation and he tried to not get his hopes up, but he sort of did feel like she was giving him… those sort of eyes. “I don’t want to keep you from your friends, though.”

“You’re not.” She said simply, looking up at him. Usually, facial hair wasn’t something she considered much at all. Not many around her wore it, but she had to say the longer she looked at him, the more she liked it. It was just… masculine. Rugged, in a way, but he kept it groomed. This man was interesting all around, with pretty rings and a deep raspy voice, seafoam eyes and a little tiny gray streak starting near his temple. God, that was hot. “I’m plenty happy talking to you.”

His heart skipped a beat as she looked up at him, those eyes sparkling with something he hoped was interest, but at the very least looked like genuine intrigue. Nothing about their encounter led to her feeling otherwise. It was a nice change, feeling the ease of a conversation flow even if he stumbled on words when he accidentally looked down at her lips.

Fuck it.

He reached out, gently brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering on her cheek. "I’m glad t’hear that. You're very easy to talk to." he said, his voice low and warm. The risk was there, initiating a bit of touch, but he had fo test to waters. See where this was headed. Was she looking for a safe haven? A reliable guy who didn’t look like a creep (hopefully), someone to buy her drinks as she pitied the older man at the bar, or… was this headed the direction the heat in his belly desperately wanted.

“Am I?” Her head tilted slightly, smile slightly shy but making no effort to move from where his fingers hovered slightly. “I do get told I have problems knowing when to shut up and let things be quiet, so I suppose that tracks. It can be nice in conversations.” Especially when he had seemed slightly apprehensive of her at first and now warmed up. “You’ve got a nice voice. It’s nice to talk to you.”

"Well, I suppose we'll just have to keep talking, then." He said softly, his voice growing even warmer as he leaned in closer, his eyes flicking back down to her lips briefly before returning to her eyes.

“I agree.”

Y/N could be considered bold at times, but she liked that he was showing some effort- some interest. It was give and take, push and pull, a fun little game as she was given a perfect chance when someone else approached the bar top from behind Harry. “Oop- come ‘ere.’ She laughed, gently tugging him in as her ankle hooked around the back of his knee to tug him into her. “Someone’s tryn’ to make an order.”

Now he was closer than she had anticipated, stood between her thighs as she sat on the barstool with her leg wrapped around his. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to get in your space.” The girl could feel his body heat. Fuck, he smelled so good. None of that… the familiar cheap colognes and aftershaves she was used to, not was it overpowering. Harry smelled expensive and spicy with some sort of leathery vanilla and she had to wonder what it was. "You smell really good..."

"No, no, it's fine..." He said softly, his voice trailing off as he looked down at her, their faces inches apart. He didn't move away, instead, he leaned in even closer, his hand resting on her knee. “Thank you.” The heat felt a little overwhelming in his cheeks. Pathetic to be a grown man blushing over such a simple compliment but he was so close to her now, body head radiating off of her and she smelled equally as good. “Um, so do you.”

He breathed in deeply, taking in her scent. It was a unique blend of floral notes, with a hint of citrus and a sweet, vanilla-like undertone. It was feminine, youthful, and intoxicating. Sweet and fresh. It didn’t choke him in floral and musk like the women who had been after him since his signature had barely dried on his divorce papers, but something that he vaguely remembered from his own days around her age. Perhaps that was a sign he should back off, but he couldn’t. He felt himself getting lost in the scent, his head spinning slightly as he continued to breathe her in.

His hand on her knee nearly burned but she relished in the feeling, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she smiled slightly at him. It was her first time attempting something like this. Older men were always a thing for her, a desire, but never one she felt bold enough to go for. Now, though, she wondered why she had waited. The feeling in her stomach and the delicate way she felt under his touch was something that had her nearly giddy.

“I like the mustache.” She pointed to it. “It’s a mature look. In a good way.” Of course she didn’t want to offend him, make him feel like she was calling him old. “Guys I’m around usually can’t pull it off. But you do.” Braving a touch, she let her fingers run over his jaw and felt a slight bit of scruff. “Are y’gonna go for a full beard? Or no?”

"Maybe..." Harry murmured, leaning into her touch. "Depends on how well it's received..." The joke was cracked softly, his eyes fluttering closed briefly as she touched his face. He let his hand slide a little higher up on her thigh, squeezing gently. "Thank you for the compliment though. Was hoping it wouldn’t be a bad thing cause I noticed y’looking at it.”

“Mm, I was. It’s nice.” Sexy. Her eyes felt heavy as she watched his lips curl in a slight smile. “ I’m assuming that there’s no missus at home?” She asked lightly. “You don’t seem like a cheater, Harry.” It was a tease, but he didn’t wear a ring on his ring finger. Usually she never gave men the benefit of the doubt but selfishly, she wanted to be right so she wouldn’t feel guilty about imagining her inner thighs raw from beard burn later tonight.

"No missus." He confirmed, his thumb rubbing small circles on her thigh as he opened his eyes to look at her. "Just me, and the office. I've been too busy to think about dating, let alone finding someone serious." He admitted honestly, his gaze lingering on her face. "I mean, I was married. Briefly." He said, his expression growing slightly somber. "But that's over now. It didn't work out." He shrugged, trying to downplay it, even though the divorce had been messy and painful. "What about you? Boyfriend at home?"

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out.” She frowned. It wasn’t something she’d pry on because she could see it bothered him a bit, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t curious. Nor that she didn’t feel bad. “I’m single, thank god. My last boyfriend was a complete prick.” Her nose wrinkled in disgust. “Cheated on me a few times on a boys holiday. Was stupid enough to post with other girls and think people wouldn’t send it to me just because he hid stories from me. but it was a relief, anyways.” It sounded cold, callous maybe, but it was the truth. “It’s just me now as I figure out what to do.”’

"He sounds like an idiot." He grumbled, his hand tightening lightly on her thigh. "You're too good for that." He paused, his eyes flicking over her features. "What do you mean, figure out what to do? Like, with life?"

“Yeah. Career wise mostly. I think I want to do writing but it’s been hard to tell lately. I do that part time and then work at a cafe as a waitress and pick up shifts when I need the money. I’m tired all the time so it’s taking me longer to simply sit down and figure out 100% what I want to do but, that’s life.” She shrugged. “So I get suckered into going out to bars with my coworkers and getting a buzz so I go up to a handsome man and demand to know where his ring is from, so it suppose it isn’t all bad.”

"Writing, huh?" There was intrigue in his voice as he took in her answer. The compliment wasn’t lost on him, and it fueled that bolder part of him that wanted to break out. "Like, books, or journalism? I happen to be in publishing, so if that’s something you’d like to walk about we can…." He trailed off, his thumb continuing to rub soothing patterns on her thigh. "It’s not the easiest thing to break into but you’ve got a lot going for you. I’d be willing to help you if you feel ready.” . That was a genuine offer, regardless if he got laid… but he still felt that the way she was looking at him had an undertone

"You should come by my office sometime, if you want." He offered, his voice low. "I mean, if you're interested in publishing. We could... talk shop. Or something." He added, his hand slowly creeping higher up her thigh as he spoke.

“Or something?” She grinned widely. “Are you making a pass at me, handsome stranger Harry?” Her fingers stroked down his jaw towards his neck, messing with the collar of his shirt.

"I mean, m’being serious about helping you but… Maybe a bit of flirting is happening." He whispered, tilting his head to the side to give her better access. "I mean, you did ask where my ring was..." He pointed out softly, his hand now resting high up on her thigh, fingers spread wide, said ring gleaming in the low light. "And I haven't exactly been getting much action since the divorce..."

Eyes fell down to his hand and back up to his face, ever so slightly spreading her legs more to allow him to step closer between them. The heel of her shoe gently ran over his calf, biting lightly on her lower lip as she tried to keep the smile off her face. “And is that the only thing you want from me?”

Harry's breath hitched as she spread her legs, his heart racing at the subtle gesture. His hand tightened ever so slightly on her thigh, his fingers digging in just a bit as he leaned in closer. "No," He admitted quietly, his voice husky. "But it's a good start."

“Tell me.” She slipped her hand down to let them curl into the fabric of his shirt. “I’ve never been with an older man before, Harry. Are you all just as shitty as the younger ones? Or are you better?”

Harry's eyes darkened as she slipped her hand under his shirt, the rough pad of her fingers against his skin making him shiver. "I'm better." He said confidently, his voice deep and rumbling. "I know what I want, and I know how to treat a woman."

The man’s hand tightened on her flesh as she let out a breathy sigh, his eyes never leaving hers. "With respect," He said simply. "With kindness and attention. I open doors, I pull out chairs, I make sure they're comfortable and cared for. And in bed…" There was a pause, a slight smirk on his face as he averted his gaze for a single moment.

“In bed?” She echoed, looking up at him expectantly. “Don’t keep me on edge here. I’m dying to know.”

Harry smirked at her, his hand moving higher up her thigh, stopping right at the hem of her panties. His knuckles could feel how humid she was, no denying she was wet. It was hard to keep focused, but he had to. "Well, Y/N… I make sure they're satisfied," He said, his voice low and sultry. "I take my time, I pay attention to their body, I explore and learn what makes them tick."

“So you won’t just cum and roll over and fall asleep?” She hummed, her other hand running under his blazer and over his back. “Because I’m real tired of giving it my all and barely getting a subpar orgasm out of it. It’s why I was trying to be celibate for a while…”

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. "Not on my watch," He said, his thumb brushing against her panties. "I'll make sure you're thoroughly satisfied, multiple times if needed. I'll hold you close, kiss you, tell you how beautiful you are, while I make love to you."

“Ooo… he makes love..” She cooed, giggling lightly before leaning into whisper the next words to him. Was this an older man thing? Or a literature person sort of thing? Waxing poetically about the things he could provide, it all sounded amazing. But she had to know. “But can you fuck? Can you make me feel it for days, bruise my ass, get me so wet I ruin your sheets?”

Harry groaned quietly her words, his thumb pressing against her panties, feeling how soaked they were. "Fuck, yes." He growled under his breath, his other hand reaching up to cup her cheek. "I can be rough, I can be gentle, I can do whatever the hell you want. All y’have to do is ask."

Y/N let out a shuddering breath as his thumb brushed over her clit through her panties, looking to the side as she attempted to see if anyone was paying attention- but considering how crowded it was tonight, no one was paying them much mind. “So you’ll take me back to your place and make me cum? That’s what I want.”

Harry nodded, his thumb rubbing against her. "Yeah, sweetheart, I'll take you back to my place and make you cum so hard you'll see stars. And then I'll keep going, as long as you want, until you can't take it anymore."

“God.” The girl’s head rolled toward and thumped on his shoulder, feeling him chuckle as he rolled his thumb over her swollen clit. The lacy scrap of material she considered panties did little to hide how slick she was, the older man having plenty of fun playing with her as she turned her head and nipped her teeth into his throat.

Harry let out a low hiss at the sharp little bite, his hand still pressing against her clit through her panties. He reached into his pocket with his free hand and pulled out his phone, quickly typing out a text message before putting it back in his pocket.

“W-What are you doing?” She murmured, slowly pressing her lips to his skin and staining it with her lipstick. He was casual about playing with her, acting like stroking her clit was second nature as his other hand adjusted the straps of her dress back up from where they’d begun to droop.

Harry smirked as she inquired, his thumb still making small circles against her clit. He leaned in closer to her ear and whispered, "I'm sending a message to my housekeeper, to make sure the bed is prepared for when we get back to my place."

“God, M’gonna suck your dick so good.” She sighed, a tipsy giggle leaving her throat. “It’s big. I knew it was when I came over here but… shit, I’m gonna feel it for days.”

Harry grinned as she grumbled against his neck, his hand leaving her panties to grip her hip possessively. "You're going to love it, baby. I'm going to stretch your little mouth wide, and you're going to take every inch like a good girl." He crooned low in his throat. “But you need to get that pretty ass up and come t’the car with me. My driver is here.”

——-

Y/N let out a squeal of delight as Harry tossed her into his bed. His Californian King with a canopy, four postered, hand craved fucking bed frame, his shirt unbuttoned, belt undone and jacket on the floor. Her dress was over her hips and she wasn’t sure exactly how they’d gotten here, but what she was sure of was the fact that she really did like kissing him. “Kiss me.” She demanded, grabbing his scruffy face as he crawled up the bed and hovered over top of her.

Harry chuckled at her demanding tone, his mustache brushing against her lips as he obliged her request. He kissed her deeply, his hand wrapping around her jaw to pull her close. As they made out, he let go only momentarily to reach down and grab her dress, yanking it up over her head and tossing it carelessly aside.

That left her in just the pathetic excuse of lace panties, as she had forgone the bra for the sake of the dress, and there was no complaints on his end. Her hand pushed at the shoulder of his shirt, trying to get it off of him. “Want you closer.” She mumbled, leaning into him with a mewl as he pulled back to do as she asked. It was erotic and hot and she was surprised by the amount of tattoos he had, but god, did she want to see more of him.

Harry grinned, feeling her warm hands pushing at his shirt. He lifted his arms, allowing her to pull it off of him. His tattoos were extensive, covering most of his arms, chest, and back. Inquisitive hands ran over her sides, marveling at her form compared to his own build.

The man bent down and started to place kisses along her collarbone and up her neck. His rough hands squeezed her sides gently, thumbs brushing along her ribs. He continued to kiss and nibble at her neck, his facial hair tickling her sensitive skin. He whispered, "Wrap your legs around my waist, baby."

She did as asked, eyes fluttering shut as she could feel him through his trousers. Of course, she’d been right. The man’s cock was big like she had expected, and it was thick. Throbbing against her through the fabric, her mouth watered slightly as she rubbed herself against him, fingers finding his hair as he made his way down her throat. “Fuck, it’s been so long.” The slight scratching of the facial hair only made her feel more sensitive, like she was on a live wire. It was decided that she definitely liked it now.

Harry groaned at her words, the sound coming out more like a rumble from his chest. He continued to kiss and nip at her throat as she ground herself against him. His hands squeezed and gripped her ass, encouraging her movements. "God, you feel so damn good, and m’not even inside you yet."

Harry paused for a moment, looking up at her with a heated gaze. "You're so precious, so sweet... I've never been with anyone like you before." His voice was gruff, filled with desire. He ran his hands up her sides, marveling at her smooth skin. The curves, the indents, all of it was new and exciting.

“No?” She asked softly. “I’ve never been with an older man either. Kinda like it.” There was no hesitation in admitting it. “Was your ex wife not good to you, Harry?”

Harry's expression darkened briefly at the mention of his ex-wife. "She wasn't... attentive. And she certainly never looked at me the way you are now." He buried his face in her neck once more, kissing and nuzzling her skin.

“No?” It was astounding. “I don’t know how. If I had a man like you…” She let out a breathy laugh. “You’d have to pry me off of you. you are so attractive, so sweet… Can’t imagine why she wouldn’t be all over you, all the time.” It wasn’t something she could really understand. She barely knew the guy but she liked what she saw, and she liked it a lot.

Harry's heart swelled with pride at her words. He felt his ego growing a bit, having this beautiful young woman fawn over him. "I think she was always more interested in the status and prestige that came with being married to me, rather than actually being in love with me." It wasn’t something he liked to think about but in this instance he felt okay with it. If it hadn't ended, he wouldn’t end up here.

His lips continued to kiss and caress Y/N, his hands roaming over her curves almost in awe of what he had his hands on. It wasn’t what he had expected. People watching at the bar was his goal, really. He had one night stands a few times but he didn’t necessarily want this to be a one time sorta of thing. Not when she smelled this good and her lips tasted like cherry wine. He wanted to know what books she liked just as much as he wanted to know how she looked when she came. "But now I have you in my bed, and you're looking at me like I'm the most desirable man you've ever seen, so I think m’doing okay." He crooned, nipping at her neck.

“Because you are.” The girl purred. “All man and power in the best way. Not socially, but in what you are. You exude it.” Her cunt rubbed against him, making her eyes lull. “I knew you’d have a big dick. Knew it just walking up, how you stood. I wanted it inside of me.”

Harry let out a low chuckle, his voice a deep rumble. "Is that right? You wanted me inside you from the moment you saw me?" His hands gripped her backside firmly, spreading her cheeks as she ground against him. "Well, you're going to get it, baby."

“Mmm… I want it now.”

Y/N nearly whimpered as he pulled away but quickly shut up as she watched him stand up, hands working the button of his trousers. It took her seconds to lift up and get on her knees in front of him, shooing his hands away to take over. it had been months since she’d given head and while she wasn’t a normal lover of it, she had been dying to get her hands on him.

Harry watched with heavy-lidded eyes as she pushed his hands away and undid his pants herself. He bit his lower lip as she slowly revealed what she'd been craving. "You don't have to do that, baby." He said hoarsely, knowing full well that he wanted her to- but he wouldn’t make her. It would be more than okay if he focused on her. He got off on giving, and that’s what he focused on.

“Need to.” She gave him a look as she slowly tugged the zipper down, guiding his trousers down before palming him over his briefs. “Fuck, I’m gonna be full of this.”

Harry let out a low moan at her grip and the words that followed. The image of her full and well used was enough to send any red-blooded man to their knees, but he just stood there in front of her, letting her take control, letting her give him pleasure. He watched as she pulled his boxers down, freeing his length. His hands moved to cup the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair. He could see the lust in her gaze, and he couldn’t help but sigh again at the sight of her.

His thick, veined shaft jutted out proudly from a trimmed thatch of dark hair. The head was a dark, angry red and already glistening with precome. The older man let out a sharp breath as she wrapped her fingers around his shaft, slowly starting to stroke him. He watched intently as she gripped his cock, sliding it over the sensitive length, causing it to pulse in her grip.

A shiver of pleasure ran down her spine as she watched his control come undone. Her eyes were locked onto him, watching his cock pulse and throb in her hand. She could feel it grow harder with each stroke, leaning herself down and sticking out her tongue for a taste.

The sensation of her tapping tongue against the tip of his cock made him shudder, watching the precum string from his slit to the pad of her pink tongue. He looked down at her, seeing the hot promise in her eyes- this was going to be good and he knew it. She slowly began to slide the head of his cock back and forth between her lips, teasing it with her tongue.

Y/N wasn’t one to call any cock pretty, but she would dare to say it for him. Harry’s cock was appealing in the way most others hadn’t been. Maybe part of it was her overwhelming attraction to him in general, but she felt even more eager to make him feel good than she had with anyone else in the past. “I want to take it in my throat. I can do it, I promise. Jus’ need your help.” Her plea was finished with a kiss to the tip before opening her mouth, looking up at him to let him take over.

He guided her head forward gently, encouraging her to take more of him into her mouth. "Relax your jaw, baby, you can take it." He coaxed softly, his voice laced with desire. As Y/N did as he asked, Harry felt his cock slide deeper into her warm, wet mouth. Her lips stretched around his girth, pushing in slowly before he felt the tip of his cock hitting the back of her throat. He could feel her nose pressing against his pubic bone as she struggled to take him all in. “Shh, sweetheart. Just gotta get it wet for me, show me what you can do.”

He held her head steady, his hands gently gripping her hair as he started to slowly thrust his hips. The sound of his thick cock sliding in and out of her mouth filled the room, along with the occasional gagging noise as she struggled to accommodate his size.

"You're doing so well, baby," Harry praised, his voice low and gravelly. "Look at you, takin’ it like a good girl. You're gonna make me come so hard today, aren’t you, sweetheart? Just like that, that's it- relax that throat for me..."

As Harry continued to talk to her, his sweet words and praise, Y/N's eyes began to water from the effort of taking him so deep. She gagged a few times, her hands coming up to his thighs for support, but she refused to pull away for longer than a few seconds to catch her breath.

Her cheeks hollowed and her jaw ached, but she was determined to take him all in. Harry's hands moved to the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair as he pulled her closer, fucking her mouth with more urgency. "That's it, baby. You're making me so hard... S’been so long... Been ages since anyone’s made me feel like this..." Harry's voice trailed off into a low moan as Y/N finally managed to take him all in, her nose pressing against his lower abdomen. “Tha’s it, right there- fucks sake.”

Harry's hips began to thrust involuntarily, fucking her mouth with shallow pumps as he held the back of her head, still buried deep in her throat. He released the grip, trying to urge her off- but she didn’t want to. "Fuck... you’ve got t’pull off, sweetheart..." he groaned, his breathing heavy and erratic. “Need t’fuck you.” Y/N whimpered around his thickness, her eyes watering as she shook her head slightly, indicating that she wasn't ready to give up yet. She wanted to taste him, to drink him down like he had with her. Harry's grip tightened in her hair, his voice strained.

"Babe...you've gotta-you've got to... please," Harry begged, his voice cracking as she continued to suck him off, her head bobbing and nose brushing his thatch of hair, making his eyes clench shut. "If you don't stop now, M’gonna, fuck...I'm gonna cum in your mouth..."

Y/N whimpered, her hands gripping his thighs tightly as she continued to suck him enthusiastically, eager to taste him. Harry's breathing became rapid and shallow, his fingers tightening in her hair as he struggled to hold back. "Y/N, last chance...I'm-"

The girl moaned as she felt him stiffen, his hips bucking forward as he finally gave in and let go, filling her mouth with his warm release. Watching his face fall in ecstasy, it was going to be worth the soreness tomorrow. She struggled to swallow it all, some of it dripping out of her mouth and down her chin. Harry's knuckles were white from gripping her hair so tightly, his body trembling as he came deep in her mouth. The sight of her swallowing him down was almost too much for him to handle, and he had to close his eyes and focus on not passing out. It truly had been a long fucking time.

As Harry finished cumming, Y/N eagerly cleaned his sensitive prick with her tongue, licking and sucking until he was completely clean. She ran her tongue along the veins and underneath the head, making him shudder and pull back. "Too sensitive...God, you're so good at that." he praised breathlessly. There was slight disbelief in there too, a slight tingling in his thighs as he looked at her as she pressed sloppy kisses to his hip bone. Mascara smeared under her eyes and lipstick a faded smeared mess, he wondered how he had gotten this lucky.

Harry needed a moment to catch his breath, his heart still racing from the intense orgasm. He looked down at Y/N, her messy appearance only making her more adorable to him. "You know what would be perfect right now?" he asked, his voice still shaking slightly.

“What?” Her voice croaked, feeling his thumb brushed away some of the tears on her cheek that had fallen from the gagging.

"Letting me get a taste of that pussy I've been fantasizing about." Harry suggested, his eyes still lingering on her messy and sated appearance as he pulled her up and pushed her to lay back down on the bed. “S’my turn now. Spread those perfect legs and let me see that cunt.”

Y/N obediently spread her legs wide, letting Harry see her dripping wet pussy. He let out a low groan at the sight as he got on his knees, his thumbs spreading her lips apart to reveal her slick folds. He buried his face between her thighs, inhaling her scent deeply before diving in and licking her from asshole to clit. There was no wasting any time or pretending to be shy about a single thing.

A started squeak left her mouth as her head popped up, hands gripping his head as he dove right in with little hesitation. Harry hadn’t seemed like the type to have any reservations in taking what he wanted, and it was being proven by how his tongue slid over her most sensitive parts.

He continued to eat her out with reckless abandon, his tongue fucking her pussy as if it belonged to him. Her breathing was heavy as he sucked on her clit, nibbling at it gently before returning to lap at her folds. His hands gripped her ass, spreading her cheeks wide to give himself better access to her tight hole. He wanted to have it all. “S’this okay, baby?”

“Uh-huh.” Y/N hadn’t really had anyone touch her there before but she couldn’t say she hadn’t been curious and self explored. It was always something she wanted to play around with and it felt exciting, handing herself over to the man like that.

Harry grinned mischievously against her wet flesh, his hands spreading her wider as he buried his face deeper. He pushed his thumb against her hole, slowly sliding it inside as he continued to lap at her cunt. “You taste so good, sweetheart...” he murmured, his voice muffled by her flesh.

He added a second finger to her ass, scissoring them apart slowly as he tongue fucked her pussy. Y/N's legs started to shake as the dual stimulation became too much. She gripped his hair tightly, her back arching off the bed as she let out a high pitched whine. "Ah!"

Y/N's fingers tightened painfully in Harry's hair, her knuckles turning pale as she tried to stay grounded while the pleasure consumed her. His tongue was spearing into her soaking wet hole over and over, curling up to rub against that spot inside her that made her see stars. And his fingers… god, those hands.

His fingers were stretching her asshole, pushing past the initial resistance and sinking deep into her tight heat. He scissored them further apart, popping her open wider as he fingered her ass. Y/N's legs shook violently, her whole body trembling as she felt herself on the verge of a massive orgasm.

"Harry...it's...too- please..." She babbled, unable to form a full sentence as he continued to stuff her holes. It had never been like this before, no one had even come close. He ignored her pleas, instead burying his face deeper and pumping his fingers faster. She felt so stuffed, so full, the pressure mounting inside her unbearably.

He felt her whole body stiffen, her pussy fluttering on his tongue as she cried out. She gushed against his mouth as she came, the feeling so intense and overwhelming that the waves of pleasure forced her to collapse against him.

Harry worked her through it as she trembled and whimpered with pleasure, his fingers still buried in her ass and his tongue still buried in her pussy. He felt a sense of pride and accomplishment, knowing that he'd reduced this beautiful young woman to a whimpering, shaking mess. It was not only an ego boost from what had been lacking for a while now, but he liked seeing how she reacted to him. He alone had done it.

Harry slowly lifted his head, wiping her from his face as he grinned wickedly at Y/N. "You taste even better when you're coming apart for me, sweetheart." He brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean while maintaining eye contact with her. "And you’re tight everywhere, hm?”

Y/N stared at Harry, her eyes glazed over and pupils dilated from the intense high she was still riding down from. Her mouth was slightly parted, breath hitching as she watched him clean her off his hands. A soft blush spread across her cheeks, embarrassed yet turned on by his bold actions.

"H-Harry...that was...I've never...I mean...no one's ever..." She stammered, unable to form a coherent sentence even still.

He chuckled darkly, enjoying how flustered she was. "No one's ever played with your pretty little hole before?"

“No.” Her face felt hot as he grinned up at her. He seemed more than pleased and it made her feel good to know he was happy but still, she had the slight embarrassment that only came with the territory.

"Well, consider that box checked then." He said smugly, crawling back up her body to kiss her passionately. She could taste herself on his lips and tongue, the musky flavor a testament to what he'd just done to her.

He grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head as he continued to ravage her mouth. She mewled into the kiss, arching up against him as she felt his hard length pressing into her stomach. "Does my pretty girl want more?"

“Mhm.” She nipped his lip. “Want you inside of me.” Was she still sensitive from her orgasm? yes. But she had been desperate to get him inside of her since she’d first spoken to him. “Do you- are you clean?”

He pulled back slightly, his breath hot against her cheek. "I'm always clean, sweetheart. I get checked regularly and I'm very particular about who I share my dick with." He gave her wrists a gentle squeeze before releasing them, reaching over to his pants to his back pocket to grab his wallet.

“I-“ Her hand reached for his wrist. “I don’t wanna use one.” The words laid in the humid air for a moment. It was risky, sure, as any sort of unprotected anything was, but she didn’t want anything in between them. “I want t’feel you inside of me…”

He groaned at her words, his eyes darkening with desire. "Christ, doll. You're gonna be the death of me." Leaning down to kiss her again, his tongue traced over her bottom lip before slipping inside her mouth. He took his time, savoring every inch of her. His lips found the sensitive spot behind her ear, causing her to shiver in anticipation. His hands made their way under her hair, feeling the warmth of her skin.

“Can I push in, baby?” He asked with a low tone, his lips tracing her collarbone. At her nod, he wasted little time. Poor thing hadn’t been fucked right before, and he would happily give her a proper experience. Reaching down between them, he positioned himself at her entrance. With one slow thrust, he entered her fully, feeling the warmth and tightness of her around him. His eyes rolled back in pleasure, as he buried the tip inside of her. “Fuck, thank you.”

He groaned as he pushed into her, feeling the way her body welcomed him. He paused for a moment, giving her time to adjust and letting himself feel the depth of her wet heat around him. His hands reached up to cup her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples.

Being with a younger woman was different for him, but maybe it was just her- he realized as he moved inside of her. It was like being with a whole new sense of being, one who was full of energy and life. Everything about her was so fresh and vibrant, from her tight little pussy to her perfect tits and gorgeous face.

He continued to thrust into her, feeling the way her walls tightened around him. His hands moved down from her breasts, over her soft stomach and to her hips, exploring whenever he could.

His movements were slower, each thrust deliberate and measured. He wanted to savor the feel of her, the way her body yielded to his. He was drawn to watch her face, loving the way her eyes fluttered shut and her mouth fell open as he filled her. "Look at me," he murmured. She opened her eyes, looking at him with a dazed expression. "Good girl, like t’see those pretty eyes." The man sighed, unable to resist praising her. He continued to thrust into her slowly, each movement filled with lust and desire.

“Fuck.” She kept her eyes on him as her hands ran over his hot shoulderbaldes, keeping that contact as he dipped all the way back home as deep as he could. Her mouth fell open and a high pitched noise left her throat without her permission, brows furrowed. “It’s never been that d-deep.”

He grinned at her, loving the way her inexperience made her react to him. "That's because no one's ever taken the time to stretch you out right." He leaned down to kiss her neck, his hips continuing to move in slow, deep thrusts.

“Where the fuck have you been, then?” She laughed breathlessly, letting her eyes fall back closed as he kept the thrusts slow and deep, relishing every inch he took. her body was lax and hot, his for the taking. Right now she felt like he could do anything and she would welcome it. “Are all older guys like this, or is it j-just you?”

He chuckled darkly against her neck, "There's a reason why women often prefer older men, doll- but M’gonna say for greeds sake, s’just me." He suckled at her skin, his hands sliding down to grip her thighs and push them back farther, opening her up even more to his slow, deep thrusts.

“Oh, shit.” Her mouth fell open and he welcomed it, sliding his tongue back inside her mouth and humming at the taste of her against him. The fact there was not a single barrier, albeit risky for the first time fucking, made it even hotter.

His movements became gentler, his hands caressing her skin instead of gripping it. "You like that?" he murmured against her lips, his hips rolling into hers instead of thrusting. "You like knowing that there's nothing between us?" He pulled back slightly, looking down at her with a heated gaze. "I want you to look at me when I ask you something," he said, his voice low and commanding as he took her eyes. "Are you on any birth control?"

“Y-Yeah. Uh-huh.” Her eyes wide, she looked up at him hazily as she wrapped her legs further around his hips. “Don’t pull out when you cum. Please- I know m’crazy, but I need… need it.” Y/N knew she was insane for it, but their connection was so strong, every thrust inside of her, hitting places she didn’t know existed prior to this… she needed it.

His expression softened, a coo leaving his mouth as he nodded at her. How precious. "Alright, sweetheart. I promise I won't pull out." A dumb decision on his part too considering they’d just met but in the midst of it all, it was all he wanted to do. His hips began to move again, his pace quickening as he felt the heat of her around him. "You're going to take it all then, aren't you?"

“Yeah.” She mewled. From the sounds and feel alone she knew she was making a mess on his cock, but she had a feeling he was enjoying it every time he snuck a glance between them. “Take everything you give me, Daddy.” It was a risk, but she wanted to see what he’d do.

His face contorted with pleasure, his brow furrowing and his jaw clenching. "Good girl…" he hissed, his voice low and gravelly. He buried his face in her neck and thrust into her with more need, his movements becoming more urgent. "You're going to make me cum, doll."

“Cum.” She begged. “Cum in me. Then fuck it into me. Please.” Her nails dragged over his toned back as she clung to him, his bed creaking as he fucked into her welcoming, wet pussy.

He let out a primal grunt and slammed into her one last time, his cock pulsing as he filled her with his hot, thick cum. He held himself inside her, his hips jerking as he pumped his load deep into her cunt. "Fuck, baby... I'm going to fucking fill you up."

But he wasn’t done. Not in the slightest.

With his cum still pouring into her, he reached under her and grabbed her thighs, spreading them wide apart. Observing the mess he made, he fixed his fingers on her clit as he fucked the cum into her just like she asked. “I gave you what you wanted, darling. Give me what I need too, mm?” His lips brushed her cheek, feeling the beginnings of her orgasm. She just needed a little extra, and he was more than happy to provide.

Y/N squirmed slightly as she felt it creep up on her faster than she could anticipate. The pulse of his cock as it dribbled the last of his cum inside of her, the feel of his facial hair brushing her tender skin and his fingertips rubbing quick circles over her clit, it was impossible to keep from holding back. Heat boiled in her stomach as she tried to tell him, but it came on quicker than she could speak.

A broken moan left her lips as her body shook under him, eyes burning with tears of pleasure as he fucked her messy cunt and continued the circles until she pushed his hand away, grabbing his face and kissing him far more messily than she would have done in any other capacity- but this felt right. Fucked out and wobbly, melting into the bed as he slowly stopped the thrusts and stayed buried in her.

“Mm- baby. Sweetheart…” he pulled back to look at her. “You alright? Tell me how you’re feelin’.” He needed to check in on her, make sure she was feeling properly taken care of. Just by the look of it alone he had a feeling she felt that way, but he wanted to hear it from her pretty lips.

“I’m so good.” She grinned, drunk with the pleasure as she looked up at the handsome man. He was everything that she had dreamt about when she woke up sticky between her thighs. Aged like a fine wine.

“Can we go again?”

#jarofstyles #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry writing #harry styles imagine #harry drabble #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #dilfrry #harry styles au #harry fanfic #harry styles fanfics #harry styles fic

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runraerun · 3 months ago

Text

Steddie Amnesia Fic: 1/3

-> Part 2 | Part 3 | AO3

cw: lots of head trauma/brain injury/recovery stuff.

Steve wakes up in the hospital with someone snoring loudly on his leg, mouth open, drool getting soaked up into the scratchy hospital blanket over him.

Steve just stares.

It’s… Freddie? No, that’s not right... Eddie! Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson, known delinquent and drug dealer… resting his head on Steve’s lap.

What the hell…?

Steve reaches up with a wobbly, IV-ridden hand to clumsily pat along his head, but instead of meeting messy hair, he meets a thick wad of bandages. He flinches when he hits an especially tender spot.

It’s not much but it’s enough to wake Eddie Munson up with a jolt, and a random jumble of words that sounded something like, “the dice have spoken!”, but Steve can’t be sure. Not with the sharp ringing still going off inside his skull.

“Steve? Steve! Oh thank fuck, Jesus H. Christ, you scared the ever loving shit out of me.” Eddie stood and grabbed at one of Steve’s shoulders, shaking him enough to elicit another wince.

“Oh, damn, sorry. I’m like a fucking bull in a china shop here, man. There’s way too much expensive, breakable shit here. I’m not used to it. I accidentally ripped your IV out the other day... Fuck. The nurses hate my guts.” Eddie chuckles, eyes wide and solely on Steve, talking like they were old friends or something.

But that can’t be right. Steve doesn’t remember saying more than two words to Eddie Munson during the entire time he knew he even existed, and even then it was just to discuss weed prices.

“For real though, talk to me Harrington, how you feelin’, hm? Loopy? Gonna yak again? Apparently they got you on the good stuff,” Eddie flicks a liquid filled bag hanging above Steve and shakes his head, “but they keep cutting you back. Dicks.”

Steve’s eyes try and follow Eddie’s erratic movements but his eyes ache the more he moves them. He blinks against the harsh fluorescents and tries to open his mouth. And thank God, Eddie Munson seems to take this as a sign and shut up.

“What happened?” Steve finally croaks.

One of Eddie’s brows jumps. “You don’t remember?”

Steve gives his head a small shake. Did Eddie hit him with his car or something? Is that why he’s sleeping at his bedside and talking to him like they’re buddies?

“You fell, Stevie.” Eddie makes a whistling noise and mimicks something falling with his hands, then makes a crashing sound when his hand lands on Steve’s bandaged head. “Like a coconut out of a tree. Landed right on that big ol’ melon of yours. There was blood everywhere. It scared the shit out of me and the kids. Especially when you wouldn’t wake up.”

Steve’s throat feels like sandpaper, but he manages to swallow, his throat clicking as he did, and gets out, “The kids?”

Eddie seems to notice, even before Steve can ask, and reaches for a water bottle with a straw already in it, and half chewed. Eddie’s own, no doubt. Against his better judgment, Steve accepts it when Eddie offers it to him. He was just so goddamn thirsty.

“Don’t worry, they’re all fine. They were just shaken up. I’ll radio the little gremlins and give ‘em the good news in a sec.” Eddie’s smile falters a little, seeming lost for words. Like he wants to say something, but can’t quite get it out.

Steve finishes swallowing his few, meager gulps of water before he asks, “What is it?”

“Don’t freak out—“ Eddie begins.

And, okay, that’s exactly the thing you tell someone before they freak the fuck out. Steve’s stomach is subject to a growing, sluggish panic. “What? Dude, tell me—“

“It’s your hair.” Eddie seems genuinely pained at having to deliver this crushing of a blow to Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington.

Steve can hear the beeping from the monitors he’s hooked up to begin to pick up speed as his heart begins racing. “My hair?”

“It’s okay! It’s okay, it’ll grow back! They just had to take a little bit off where the stitches went, you can hardest notice it—well, that’s a fucking lie, you could spot that landing strip from space—but I think if you part it to the other side it won’t look so… y’know.”

“No, dude, I don’t know.” Steve says, eyes wide, brows pinched.

“Like a drunk toddler took a pair of rusty kitchen shears to your mop.” Eddie says, huffing out a nervous sort of laugh.

Steve groans, half due to the bastardization that’s happened to his favorite feature, and half due to the migraine that’s looming on his horizon.

“You’re still pretty, Stevie, don’t worry.” Eddie grins, eyebrows raised, like he’s trying to be cute or something.

That weirdest part is, it’s kind of working.

Steve must have hit his head really, really hard.

The doctors eventually come in and perform all sorts of tests, and he tries his best to comply with them and jump through whatever hoops they make him jump through. He just wants to get the hell out of this hospital bed.

Unfortunately for him, Steve hadn’t exactly aced any of the tests.

In fact, he had failed most of them pretty fucking dismally. He couldn’t remember the date, who the president was, where he lived, couldn’t say the alphabet backwards… although, who the fuck can do that? He stands by that failing grade.

A couple of CAT scans later and it’s clear that Steve’s brain got smacked around a little more than they had originally thought.

Among a pile of other stuff, the thing that sticks out the most to Steve is his diagnosis of something called short term amnesia. They explain it like the past 2 to 3 years has just been wiped from his brain. The last clear thing he really remembers is getting the shit beat out of him by Billy, and then it all sort of gets jumbled. Fragmented. The doctors explain that this is pretty typical for head trauma patients.

He’s a head trauma patient, now.

It’s normal for memories of trauma to link, creating spiderwebs throughout your brain.

Which, that’s great. So when he gets beat up again, there’s always a chance his brain will try and erase his easy, happy years and revert back to a trauma default. Really helpful brain, thank you.

And the thing that sucks the most is that his years after the Billy beat down sound pretty great. Traumatizing, sure, but great. Once the Upside Down shit was locked up, with every scary nightmare fuel monster inside of it, life in Hawkins didn’t sound all that terrible.

He lived with Robin, who’s his best friend, (his ‘platonic soulmate’ even, as she explains it), he’s working a retail job, (also with Robin), and coaches the high school basketball team during the evenings. He’d even been talking with Hopper about joining the force.

Well, he was. Now he’s more or less useless, working full time at re-learning his life, along with a couple of fine motor skills that got glitchy after the fall.

And then there’s Eddie.

Eddie, who’s apparently also his best friend, only their soulmate link isn’t platonic at all.

The strange and weirdly exciting reality was that Steve Harrington had woken up from his 3-day medically induced coma with not only a full fledged relationship, but a boyfriend.

It’s a lot to digest, and part of him still doesn’t even know how to process it, but hearing the stories being told around him, seeing how Eddie is practically living in his and Robin’s two-bedroom apartment, and just… the way Eddie looks at him?

It’s with love—Steve can see it. Feel it. Eddie’s practically vibrating with it.

What’s even crazier is that when Steve looks at Eddie, he feels the exact same way.

It’s like looking at the stars. Steve’s heart skips a beat when those dark eyes of hit him, and Steve wants nothing more than to make Eddie smile—no, better than that, to make him laugh, just so he can watch Eddie’s adam’s apple bob up and down and hear that manic, unhinged cackle. It’s downright delightful. Steve loves being in relationships like this, where it’s all consuming.

Steve may not have the memories of falling in love with Eddie, but he has all the feelings.

No one talks about it with Steve, of course. Maybe they think it’s going to be too heavy for him to process that he’s into dudes now, but Steve isn’t a big dumb baby. Sure, he’s got a pretty severe brain injury, and yeah, alright, it takes him a minute to remember people’s names sometimes, and he has a harder time controlling his emotions, but he isn’t a complete invalid. Only a little bit of one. He’s working on it, dammit.

And Eddie is so painfully, frustratingly patient with him. He never pushes. He’s clearly letting Steve retrieve his memories before he makes a move, because despite his whole outward appearance, Eddie Munson is a goddamn gentleman. He never so much as reaches for Steve’s hands, but Steve can tell by the way their pinkies graze when they watch movies late at night that he wants to.

Steve can tell by the way Eddie teases him, the way he’s there with him through his recovery, that he doesn’t ever make Steve feel stupid when he asks the same questions over and over again, when he cries at the drop of a hat or when he gets sort of confused about the lay out of his apartment—he doesn’t care about that of that.

Because he’s in love with Steve. It’s so painfully romantic, it brings a painful lump to Steve’s throat every time he thinks too much about it.

The two of them are driving to one of Steve’s therapy sessions, Eddie in the driver's seat, Steve in the passengers, listening to a low racket of some kind of heavy metal music. Eddie always keeps the volume low now, for Steve.

He’s just been so intensely good about everything that Steve needs to try and do something good for Eddie in return. He needs Eddie to know that there’s a light at the end of this tunnel that they’re both currently lost in.

“I’m sorry about this, y’know.” Steve says when they finally pull up the building that has ‘Brain Injury Recover Center’ written on the front. So all the boys and girls with scrambled eggs for brains know where to converge.

“Don’t worry about it, man. I work the evening shifts, remember? My days are free.” Eddie explains, and Steve wonders if he’s had to be told this bit of information a couple of times now. Sometimes it takes a few times before something sticks to his brain now. His short term memory is still majorly flighty. But no, Steve remembers that Eddie bartends at a local bowling alley most evenings. He’s gone a few times. Not to bowl, of course—too much hand eye coordination involved—but just to hang out with Eddie. He’s pretty decent at Ms. Pac-Man though.

Steve shakes his head. He knows his mind must have wandered because there’s been a lull where no one’s spoken. Eddie never seems to care about that though. “I don’t mean about the drive. I was talking about… y’know.”

“Wha’dy’mean?” Eddie mumbles as he backs into his parking space, hand on the back of Steve’s headrest.

Steve sighs and decides to just come out and say it: “I mean having your boyfriend forget everything about you and your relationship. I just… that must be really tough.”

Everything in Eddie Munson comes to a jarring halt, hand frozen over where he’s turned to ignition off.

It’s sort of unnerving—Eddie is always moving, fidgeting. Damn near bouncing off the walls. But now it’s like someone hit the poor guy with a freeze ray gun.

Steve chuckles softly as he reaches out and touches Eddie’s arm, giving him a playful jostle, to loosen him up a little, “it’s okay, Eddie. I know. You don’t have to keep going easy on me. I’m gay! Or, bi-sexual. Whatever.” Steve shrugs, “see? Not falling apart. I can handle being in love with another dude. You don’t need to keep babying me.”

The side of Eddie’s mouth twitches into a downturned smile that he seems to be trying to hide.

“I know, I know. Not just any dude.” Steve rolls his eyes, a smile still firmly on his face. He takes Eddie’s hand from the steering wheel, and Eddie seems to watch it go in a detached sort of awe. Steve wonders if Eddie’s proud of him for being so cool with it all. “In love with you.”

“Steve, I don’t think—

“Wait, just let me finish.” Steve asks, and Eddie blinks and works on closing his mouth. Knows it’s important to let Steve get his thoughts out quickly, lest they be lost to the giant black hole inside of his beat-up brain now. “I know that I don’t remember any of the important stuff with us. Our first date, or our first kiss or, y’know, any of our other first firsts. So maybe it feels like you’re cheating on the old Steve with me? But… Eddie, I know it’s crazy but even though my brain forgot all of the specifics; my heart didn’t. I look at you, and it’s all there. I’m still so into you, dude. I can feel it, even though I don’t remember how I got here. I’m in l—“

“Steve! Stevestevesteve wait, holy shit—!” Eddie’s eyes snap up from his intense stare at the place where their hands are linked. “Steve—”

“Yeah?” Steve prompts when Eddie doesn’t seem to be able to find the words. He runs his thumb gently over Eddie’s knuckles. It feels so nice to finally be able to hold his hand again. They fit together so well, and Steve wonders briefly if it’s some kind of muscle memory.

Eddie opens his mouth a few more times before he remembers how to make the words come out.

“Steve. Buddy. We’re… we’re not dating.”

Steve’s face falls, and he can feel a lump form in his throat, but he keeps a firm hold of Eddie’s warm hand in his own. “Yeah, I know, I know. We haven’t had any time to be a couple. And it’s probably been torture for you, man. You’re so busy taking care of me and making sure I don’t freak out over everything that you’ve clearly been neglecting your own hierarchy of needs.”

Eddie raises a brow.

Steve chuckles, “Shut up. It’s a therapy term.”

Eddie laughs in his throat. “Steve, you gotta slow down and listen to me.”

He turns his shoulders so that he’s fully facing Steve while he reaches his free hand over and tugs at one of his earlobes. “Got your hearing ears on?”

Steve rolls his eyes, but he nods just the same.

“We… we weren’t dating before your accident,” Eddie speaks slowly, his voice warm, gentle. “Hell, I didn’t even know you were, y’know, into dudes like that. Much less me.”

Something throbs dully behind Steve’s eyes. It’s the start of a migraine—the one that makes it hard to process much of anything. Steve squints, trying to make sense of what Eddie’s saying. “…you’re not my boyfriend?”

Eddie shakes his head very, very slowly. “No.”

Steve snatches his hand back like he’s only just now noticed how burning hot Eddie’s hand is.

He settles back in his seat, staring out the front window. The sounds from the outside world are muffled, and everything feels far away and sort of… Made up. Just like everything he’d imagined was going on between him and Eddie. Not real.

He feels painfully detached from reality. Unmoored. Maybe this was the disassociation thing the doctor mentioned might happen…

“Are you sure?” Steve asks, risking another glance over to Eddie, who hasn’t taken his eyes off him for a second.

“Pretty fuckin’ sure.” Eddie snorts.

“Oh, God. This is… I’m—sorry. I’m so stupid. Fuck, I gotta—“ Steve suddenly attacks the door handle with a clumsy fury that has his hand fumbling with the handle for way too long. Fucking busted up, bruised as fuck fucking brain-!

“Steve, it’s okay, dude,” Eddie says from behind Steve, but that’s easy for him to say; he didn’t just humiliate himself in front of his not-boyfriend, definitely-crush, possibly ex-friend—“Steve, wait!”

Steve flees the van on unsteady feet, not daring to look back.

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ramonathinks · 10 months ago

Text

— LIVE NOW, THINK LATER (NANAMI K.)

warning: (18+) infidelity, car sex, creampie, small feelings (lolll).

“You look beautiful.” A familiar voice startled you. He couldn’t believe his eyes really, your beautiful skin glowing and your eyes twinkling.

“Oh, Kento! I didn’t think you’d make it,” You moved into his arms and he held you tightly, his fingers dancing across your waist.

You pulled away and smiled at him. He chuckled, “Wouldn’t have missed it.” But he wish he did. He hated how this tortured him and wound him up. He hated watching you be in love with someone else.

“I got you something.” He whispered, his fingers playing in your hair. He tried to remember to keep his distance. He could already hear the whispers around him, women judging and asking if you had “any sense at all” or decorum, to be with any other man than your husband right now.

Your husband who was too busy drinking and laughing with his friends to notice. But the women didn’t say anything about that.

“Oh really?” You asked, quirking a brow. “Lemme see it!” You jumped and clapped your hands so excited.

“I’ll have to take you away…” He licked his lips and did a devilish smile. He held up his index finger and walked towards your husband. “Mind if I take her away from you? No more than twenty minutes…” He asked, his tone annoyed as he looked at the man who just married you.

He waved Nanami off and continued back to his conversations. Nanami wanted to hurt him. He wouldn’t have let you go anywhere without him tonight. He wouldn’t have left you alone tonight.

He grabbed your hand and he whisked you away from it all. He took you to his car and looked around, making sure it was nobody near you both. He helped you inside, picking up the bottom of your long white wedding dress and carefully putting it inside.

“Why couldn’t you just wait for me? Huh?” He hated this. “I promised you and—“

“You promised me for years, Kento. Work was always a priority for you. I was tired of being second place.” Your words stung and he knew that it was true but he always figured that you’d stay. When you left he assumed you just needed some space, when you got a boyfriend he reassured himself that you’d come back…but when he saw the wedding invitations and even received one in the mail… he knew that he lost you.

He stared into your pretty eyes and caressed your cheek, “Why did you invite me then? Pity? I can already see how your life is going to be. Married for a year, pregnant with an inattentive husband who’ll fuck his co-worker more than he fucks you. He doesn’t even look at you and those vows of his? The embarrassment on your face told it all. You don’t love him…not how you loved me.”

You swallowed, “Kento… let’s not do this, here.” Your hands were shaky and your palms sweating. “You said you have a gift for me?”

He paused, thinking momentarily. Popping open the glove department and reaching inside, he presented a rectangular blue box with a scarlet red ribbon on top. “For you, I hope you like it.”

He heard you gasp, “A Tiffany tennis bracelet?” Your eyes were wide. “Do you know how expensive these are? Well — of course you do, you bought this one.” You did an awkward chuckle.

He already knew you would ask, when he saw your mouth open. “It was seventy-thousand dollars. I saw it, thought you’d like it and that was that. It’s the least I could do for you, baby.”

“Seventy— Are you insane? It’s beautiful but for that amount? I… you could’ve bought a house or… gosh… I barely even spent fifty thousand on this wedding.”

“Oh, so you really settled.” He muttered and to his surprise you laughed.

“I did.” You agreed with a strained smile and a sad look in your eyes. “Thank you for this… it’s so beautiful and I do love it, I always loved their stuff and I always hated that I left all my jewelry behind, all those years ago.” You released a heavy sigh.

“I still have ‘em. Could drop them off one day, maybe. Or… you could come and get them.” He said and you looked at him with narrowed eyes. He held his hands up in surrender, “No funny business.”

“Yeah right. I already know you brought me out here to try to fuck me.” He coughed in surprise at your words. “A present, really? That you had to take me all the way out here and not give me in front of everyone?”

“I didn’t want to embarrass your husband. That’s all. Nothing more. Honest.” He moved his hands to cover his hardening cock. “But… how’s the sex?”

“You’re that curious? I already told you I settled and you already know there’s nobody better than you.” You looked at him with heavy-lidded hazy eyes, your voice soft as silk.

He swallowed. “Divorce him and I’ll give you the wedding you deserve. I’d spend double the amount of that bracelet on you. You deserve the best, baby. I work and work because I didn’t ever want you to be comfortable living a simple life when I could give you more. I love you and there’s no one like you.” He took your hand and pressed it to his chest. “This has always been yours, it has your name on it and it forever will.”

You kissed him, it was too hot in his car to think about anything. You didn’t care that you were still in your wedding dress or that someone could see you. You just wanted him. He reached forward and put a tightening hand on your waist, pulling you closer and deepening the kiss.

His tongue sucked on yours and swirled inside. Your nails digging into his hair as you pulled him closer towards you. “I want it.” You whispered against his lips, kissing the side of his neck and licking a long stripe up. “Let’s go.” You motioned towards the back and he smiled.

Crawling to the backseat and he palmed your ass. “Naughty, naughty.” You giggled, drunk off something. Drunk off Nanami Kento. He joined you in the back, you pulled at his tie and he happily sighed.

Unbuttoning his pants before he began bunching up your dress, he slid down the thin panties you were and looked between your legs. “This for me?” He looked at you, his dark brown eyes full of pure lust. You were soaked, wetness covering your thighs and your lips stuck together with glossy strings of your essence. You nodded, unable to speak and he kissed you again. It felt like before, when you both started dating and how soft he always was with you.

He inhaled, your smell all over the place and he loved every second of it.

“Does he know that you like to be touched, right here? Or right there?” His fingers were simply dancing across your lower body, working you up just from small touches, but he wouldn’t slip them inside, much to your frustration. Your hips thrusts up a bit, begging for more before all of the warmth of his fingers pulled away.

He slid his pants and boxers down, staring at your soaked folds. His cock had a thick bunch of hair that was lightly trimmed and it looked prettier than you ever seen it, with creamy white precum gushing out of the tip.

He slid a hand down after gathering the small amounts of leaking precum, the lewd sounds of him jerking himself off filled the car and made you whine. “Please, hurry up.” Spreading yourself more so that he can see the cream between your folds drip to his seat. He muttered something quietly and pulled your dress up more, rubbing his cock up and down your slit, both of you hissing and gasping.

Your nails were digging into his forearm when he finally slipped inside of you, he groaned close to your mouth. You huffed, wrapping your legs around his, wanting him to fully be inside of you. When both of your pelvis’s were touching, hips flushed together. He felt you squeeze around him and more of your wetness squirted out of your pussy when he snapped his hips in a solid thrust.

“Does he know your body like me?” Even though you told him earlier, he wanted to know while he was pounding into you, holding up the sides of your wedding dress. His hips were moving dangerously fast now, making your titties bounce. Foreheads touching and his cock filling you up, your eyes rolled back.

“No, he—ah— he doesn’t. Never even made me cum.”

“Oh, so I have to make up for that, don’t I, baby?” He drags his cock in and out of you, the loud sounds of slapping skin made him even harder as he looked at your fucked out expression. Your legs were already shaking, so he added pressure by rubbing your clit in small circles. Tightening around him yet again and he smiled, “That’s my girl.” You rolled your hips, trying to push yourself even closer to your orgasm.

“Look at me. Remember who’s fucking you and who’s making you feel this good, right now. Got that?” He whispered in your ear, biting it playfully.

You felt so good around him, closer to heaven and he knew for this moment with him fucking you right now, he was dragging you closer to hell. Be he couldn’t care less, your tiny cunt creaming around him, your back arching and your toes squeezing.

Your pussy constricts around him and a stream of your cum drips down between the both of you. But Nanami doesn’t stop; he rolls his hips again and fucks more of that creamy wetness out of you. He presses your stomach and you squirm. “I’m gonna come inside of you, ‘kay?” You can’t talk anymore so you just moan and sigh, nodding your head.

Both of your hips bucking, grinding into each other’s pelvis’s, he cums. It’s heavy and you spasm around him, sucking him deeper inside and he shutters. “You feel so fucking good. Could do this all night baby.” He slipped out for a moment, looking at his cum soaked half hard cock, before he pushed back in. You gasped, pushing him back a bit to no avail.

“You love me don’t you, baby?”

“Always, Kento.”

no part two.

#jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk #jujutsu kaisen nanami #kento nanami #jjk nanami #nanami smut #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami x reader smut #jjk nanami x reader #nanami kento x y/n #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x reader

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comically-callous · 5 months ago

Note

Can I request headcanons for Kurt, Remy, Logan, and Wade finding out that his gn s/o has never dated anyone else before him please?

X-Men requests YAYYYYY YAY YAY YAY YAY!!!!!!!! 🤸🏃🤸🏃🤸🏃🤸🏃🤸🏃

Wade, Logan, Remy, and Kurt with a s/o who hasn’t dated anyone other than them!! <3

Warnings!: cursing ig, reader is referred to as pretty (I consider that gender neutral, but wanted to put it here just in case), and that’s it!

A/n: Want them all ngl 😞 If it wasn’t already clear, I’m delighted to have my first X-Men request. And I also really like this prompt (definitely not because I can relate to it. Haha, shut up). Also, requests: OPEN 💜

Wade:

He straight up thinks you’re lying when you first tell him. He even laughs because he’s convinced you’re just messing with him.

But, then he realizes you’re not laughing and he’s like “Oh, shit. Really?”

He’ll apologize for laughing and probably say some shit like “Sorry, I just didn’t realize a smoke show like you was capable of being single”

And he means it. He was fully under the impression that you’d been on more than a few dates because you’re HOT

Definitely teases you about it. “Is that why your hands were so sweaty on our first date?”

Don’t be afraid to (playfully) smack him.

Despite all of the teasing, he makes sure to let you know that it doesn’t bother him. In fact, he thinks it’s cute

He’ll say that you’re “new to dating” even if the two of you have been dating for years

Starts calling you a rookie. And he ends up saying it so much that it just becomes one of the many pet names he has for you

And, yeah. When you’re not around he’s probably giggling and kicking his feet over how he’s your first boyfriend 🤭

Logan:

When you first tell him, he just looks at you for a second, not saying anything before going “You’re serious?”

“And you decided I’d be a good first pick?” He says it like he’s teasing, but, in reality, it does confuse him a bit.

Like, wouldn’t you want someone sweet and kind for your first relationship? Not a grumpy, old guy with knife hands???

Nonetheless, he’s grateful (and even honored) to be given the title of your first boyfriend

He doesn’t make a huge deal out of it. He’ll occasionally bring it up, maybe ask a question or two about it. But, it doesn’t really change anything about your relationship.

Or, at least, that’s what you think for a while.

One night, he returns from a long mission and he crawls into bed next to you, and you think he’s just gonna immediately go to sleep like he does every time he comes back from a mission. But, then he mumbles something.

“I wish I’d had someone like you as my first.”

And before you can even process it, he’s asleep.

You ask him about it in the morning and he says he doesn’t remember saying it. You can decide whether or not you think he’s lying.

Remy:

You tell him that you want to tell him something, and he can tell you’re nervous about it.

“What’s got you so nervous, chère? You know Gambit don’t judge nobody. ‘Specially not you.”

And you confess to him that you’ve never dated anyone and he’s like. “Oh. That’s it?”

He doesn’t mean to sound apathetic. He was just expecting something bad.

He asks you to clarify what you mean by “not dating anyone before him” because he thinks he somehow misunderstood you

“You telling me no one ever tried to get with a pretty thing like you?” And then he smirks. “Or were you just ignorin’ all of ‘em till Gambit came round?”

He also teases you about it from time to time. Makes little comments about how he’s your first.

But, it’s just because he loves it.

He often thinks about how he’s the only guy who’s gotten to take you on dates and do all this romantic stuff with you

“Don’t no one else know what they missing out on….”

Kurt:

He doesn’t even try to hide his surprise. He can’t.

“I’m really your first? But, how? You are so beautiful!” He’s just upfront with why he thinks it’s absurd.

He needs to hear it a few more times before he finally accepts it. And that’s when he starts getting giddy.

“I am your first lover?” He grins. “I like that, I think.”

And now everyone has to know. Sorry.

He will gladly go around and tell people that he’s your “first love” (as he likes to say). Is it usually embarrassing for you? Yes. But, it’s Kurt. So, it’s okay.

So, yeah. You definitely don’t have to worry about whether or not he minds it.

Of course, now he has to ask a bunch of questions about it too.

“So, was the first date you’ve ever had with me?” If you say yes, he smiles before asking. “Was it good?” Like he doesn’t already know the answer.

He’s just over the moon that he was the first person that you really fell in love with. And he wants you and everyone around you to know how happy he is with you.

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notjustjavierpena · 1 year ago

Text

Panties

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Well look who are back. I didn’t think dbf!joel still existed in my brain but it seems that he is actually thriving. A little treat for you all while I polish some hubby stuff. This one absolutely goes out to @sugadolly 💖💅🫶

Summary: You show off your cute little underwear. Joel wants to fuck you but you want to try something else.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, dbf!joel, age gap, daddy kink, dirty talk, praise kink, pet names, reader is a good little girl, outside sex (idk what is to call it), clit stim, overstim, reader is cockdrunk af, they’re actually very much in love for real, cum!!!!

Word count: 2.2k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52857010

Panties

“Lemme see them,” Joel says with a gentle tone as he admires you only in your jeans. He is hovering above you, kisses your lips a few times, and cups your tits as he slips his tongue into your mouth for a brief moment.

You wrap your arms around his neck, feeling his chest against your breasts as you embrace each other. You giggle softly, “They’re silly, Daddy.”

“Never thought in a million years that my baby would be silly,” he says with obvious sarcasm, nudging your nose with his own, “Show Daddy your pretty little panties. I’m gonna see ‘em eventually.”

You remove yourself from him to step back. You roll your eyes, and he raises a brow but then you follow through.

“Fine,” you tut as you lie down on his bed. His eyes lock on your buttoned jeans, his mouth slightly agape as he breathes deeply with anticipation hanging in the air.

You undo your jeans and pull down the zipper, wiggling your hips as you pull the denim down over them, and into view comes your pink cotton briefs. They’re cute, not silly, but you already know this, sporting a little bow on the front and a pattern of chibi-style cats.

“Well?” You kick off your jeans, throwing them onto the floor.

Joel kneels on the bed, admiring them thoroughly, “Pussy panties?”

You snort, covering your mouth and nose as you do, “Shut up.”

“Am I wrong, baby?” He crawls closer to you, lifts your legs up to bend them, and spreads them until his thighs hit the back of yours. He reaches up to peel his shirt off and throws it into your arms so you can hug it close and get drunk on his scent.

“No,” you say as you contemplate crawling into the piece of clothing that he has given you. God, you want him everywhere on you. That masculine smell has you wet in moments.

“Makes ya look real pretty, lovebug,” he compliments, just about to peel the underwear off of you. He stops himself as you scrunch your nose up at the new pet name.

Joel laughs heartily, “Don’t like it?”

“Say it again,” you grin up at him.

“Love. Bug,” he repeats, yanks one of your legs at a time over his hips.

“Hmm,” you tap your chin, “Maybe you should call me it as I come, just to make me associate it with something nice.”

“Cheeky,” he says as he pulls down his own underwear. They are in no way as thrilling as yours; black briefs that can barely contain his hard cock and with a little logo on the waistband. He settles them around his thighs, and whilst he does, you reach down to pull your colorful panties to the side.

“Joel?” You say his name. He makes a movement as if his ears have perked up at hearing his actual name.

“What is it?” He asks, rubbing your legs soothingly. His eyes are locked on your cunt.

“When— when you’re,” you trail off, suddenly shy, “Uh, when you…”

“Yes?” He drags the word out, looks up.

“I want you to come on them,” your heart beats in your chest and ears but out of the corner of your eyes, you spot Joel’s cock twitching in the air upon hearing those words.

“Was that so hard to ask for?” He digs his thumbs into your thighs, causing you to squirm underneath him, “You just lie back and let Daddy treat ya right.”

You wait in anticipation. And then, oh.

Ohh.

“Ah,” you mewl, looking down between you to see what he is doing. The thick head of his cock lays heavily against your clit, and when you tell him how good it feels, he holds the base of his shaft and slaps the tip against the small nub a few times.

You shudder, clenching around nothing and flexing your thighs as you shift a little. Joel’s cock hangs between his legs again, and his hands slide down to rest on your hips, thumbs reaching inwards to spread you open and watch your pulsing cunt.

“You want me to make you feel good, baby? Make you come so hard that your little clit won’t stop twitchin’ until you get all teary-eyed?” He reaches for your clit to circle it with the pad of his thumb, and you can feel slick drip down between your ass cheeks. You moan helplessly and nod repeatedly, already heaving for breath, and Joel beams with pride, “Already cockdrunk? My my. I haven’t even fucked ya yet.”

“I don’t want you to f— I don’t want that,” you say suddenly, surprising even yourself. You reach down for Joel’s cock, pulling it against your cunt but not dipping the head into you. Instead, you rub him against your clit, “This, Daddy, I want to come like this.”

“I can make that happen,” he reassures, batting your hand away to replace it and grabbing at the base of his cock himself. He resumes what you were doing, dipping the head down to catch some of your wetness before adding pressure to your clit. He slides back and forth a few times, “Like that?”

“Mhm,” you hum softly, furrowing your brow in concentration. You hold still to let him rub his whole length through your folds until he is sticky with your arousal. His left hand is still grabbing your hip, and he uses it for leverage as he leans a little weight into you.

When he grows impatient after a few minutes of you crying quietly for him, he tries to enter you. You catch his wrist and shake your head, “No! No… you promised.”

“I did no such thing,” he clicks his tongue at you.

You pout up at him, “But…”

“Oh, don’t make that face,” he groans, “You know I can’t do anythin’ when you make that face.”

“Please,” you beg, “I’ll come so hard for you.”

“Yeah?” He smiles down at you.

“Yeah,” you blink your eyes prettily, “This feels so good. I’ll cream all over your cock, Daddy.”

“Now how can I say no to that?” He moves a little before guiding his cockhead back to where you want it. He rubs the blunt head in circles over your clit for a moment, slaps it against the sensitive spot too, until you can hear the squelching sound of your wetness coating you. It makes him glide over your cunt easier.

You curl your toes and bite your lip as you look down at what he is doing, “Ahh… Keep going.”

He does, building up a rhythm that has you whining pathetically. This shouldn’t be that intense but it is, making your pussy flutter and seek out more.

“Let me try something,” you say, and he stops as you reach down, “One second.”

With both hands, you take hold of the seam of the leg of your underwear, holding tightly at the very top of it and the very bottom. You yank it down to sit tightly over the girth of Joel’s cock, essentially trapping it underneath your panties so it drags along the shaft with each of his thrusts. He sits so tightly against you now.

“Try now,” you don’t even have to say please for Joel to know you are begging.

“Jesus Christ,” he growls at the new sensation, spurred on to make himself feel it even more. He fucks himself against you with a sudden quickened breath.

The bed starts shaking. You start trembling.

You’re not able to take your eyes off of your sinful act, chewing on your bottom lip as he works his cock back and forth over and over again underneath the seam of your panties.

“Please,” your sound is weak, “Fuck!”

“Careful with that,” he scolds, “Eyes on me.”

You quickly look up at his face, barely able to focus with how much he shakes your whole frame with every push of his lower body.

“Say sorry,” he commands, referring to your use of a swear word. He doesn’t relent one bit, rolling his hips again and again.

“S-sorry,” you apologize, too focused on how your orgasm is already approaching, “Please.”

“Hold on,” he slows down, and you nearly sob with how close you are, but he only does it to remove his shirt and uncover your chest again. Then he goes back to his frantic thrusts, eyes fixated on the way that your tits bounce with every push of his hips.

“‘M close, Daddy,” you hiccup, feeling your heartbeat in all parts of your body. You throw your head back and groan loudly at the head of the bed, “I’m so close.”

If you weren’t holding onto your underwear, you would be clutching the bed frame so hard that your knuckles were white. Instead, the fabric is pulled so taut by your fingers that it hurts when it digs into your skin. You probably don’t have to do it so roughly but the pleasure racking up your spine makes you need it.

“Don’t hold back, baby,” he encourages with ragged breathing. Confident that you won’t let go as you orgasm, he lets go of himself and grabs both of your hips. He hoists you up a little, leans forward a little further, and then drives his hips back and forth, cockhead sliding over your clit repeatedly.

“I’m gonna— Oh my God, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come,” you say it like you’re almost in a panic, almost too overwhelmed to embrace the intensity you’re about to experience. You want to push him away and pull him in at the same time but he holds you so roughly in place that you just have to take it. Your eyes find his as you let it happen, “I’m coming! Daddy, oh f— I’m coming!”

“Yeah? My love bug’s coming?” He nods as encouragement, “Come for me, darlin’ baby.”

And my God, you do. You can feel your whole pelvic floor erupt into beautiful spasms of pleasure, your clit pulsing so fast and strongly that you are sure that Joel can feel it against his dick. You thank God that he is holding onto you because you are twitching and moving involuntarily as he continues his sweet torment, and tears stream down your face.

“That’s it, baby doll, you just cry all ya want,” Joel manages to coo between his own moans. You sob as your orgasm peaks, even more when you slip into a state of oversensitivity. Joel doesn’t relent, “Oh, baby. I know, baby, I know.”

It isn’t until your panties start to tear that he draws back, precome beading at the slit of his cock from how turned on he is. He is smeared with your arousal too, pearly white, and he seems to have put all the strength he has into holding back so you don’t pass out.

You shiver, trying to make sense of why your body chose to make you come so hard from a simple clit orgasm. The sweat on your body suddenly feels cold, and you reach for him until he leans down and kisses your lips. You whimper into his mouth. He wipes away a few tears.

“You okay?” He asks softly, pulling back slightly to look you in the eyes as you reply.

“Yes, sorry.”

“No, no. Don’t apologize,” he tuts, “You were gorgeous. God, I am so crazy about you.”

“Now you,” you insist, looking down between the two of you to see the red tip of his weeping cock, “You promised.”

“That I did,” he draws back until he is on his knees again. He grabs the base of his dick, strokes it a few times, and then lays it against the crotch of your underwear.

Joel rubs the head fast against the soft fabric. He holds onto your thighs, neck muscles straining as he seeks out his own pleasure. You watch him whilst delirious with post-orgasmic bliss, occasionally whimpering when he unintentionally slides over your swollen clit.

A moment later, after one of your particularly high whines, he comes with a short breath of relief. He stains the fabric, lays his cock heavy against the front of the underwear, and pulses until he has no more to give. It’s intense to see him like this, and you find yourself grabbing his wrist to keep him in the moment with you.

“Christ, sweetheart,” he pants. He slumps a little.

“I thought it was love bug,” you say with irresistible charm.

“Don’t make me tell you to lick ‘em clean, young lady,” he smirks, already crawling forward to lay down on top of you. He crushes you so heavenly with his weight, pretending-biting your cheek and causing you to snicker, “Are we clear?”

You hold him close, relishing in everything that he is, “We’re clear. I’ll behave. Somewhat.”

“Somewhat?” He nuzzles into your neck and presses a kiss.

“Well, I don’t think I’m quite satisfied,” you say dramatically.

Joel pulls back to glare at you, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, I need you inside me too,” you pout even more dramatically, “Pussy feels so lonely, Daddy. Needs something.”

“Well, we can’t starve this insatiable pussy, can we?” Joel catches on quickly, and soon, he has you screaming on three of his fingers.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

#pedro pascal characters #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal smut #joel miller fic #joel the last of us #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel miller the last of us #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #my writing #the last of us #joel x you #dbf!joel

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aakeysmash · 7 months ago

Text

first meeting: college!sukuna and f!reader

content: smut (degradation, masturbation (feet are involved for f), m oral, light slapping (1), manhandling, spit), a little bit of crack, i love yuuji and he's my metphorical little brother okay (he's 9), reader has siblings because i said so, also bigbro!sukuna

It’s not the sound of the sheets rustling that wakes him up, but an ass pressing on his groin. Not like he can complain about not sleeping much; the pretty moans still reverberating in his skull are a testament to that.

He hears a yawn before feeling two hands searching for his warmth. He lazily obliges and scoots a little bit next to the body he has next to him. He lets these roaming hands touch his body, trying not to cringe. He’s not fond of physical contact if it’s not on his cock, and having someone grab his bicep while sighing dramatically about how strong he feels makes him want to puke. But you’ve got to give ‘em what they want before taking what you want.

He curses in his mind. He broke the first rule: never let a chick sleep in your bed after you fuck her. His head is killing him, the sun entering from his bedroom window making him squint. He must have fallen asleep. He remembers everything from last night: whoever says alcohol makes you forget stuff is just weak. One of the guys he shared the complex he lived in threw a goodbye party since he was moving out, and he wasn’t one to refuse free alcohol. His ex-almost-roommate invited a bunch of people from college, and Sukuna remembers that there were a couple of girls that didn’t stop whispering to each other while looking at him, chuckling behind their hands and blushing. One in particular was pretty, dancing and smiling at everyone before focusing her gaze on Sukuna and never leaving it. A classic. He played her game a bit, and she twirled when he asked her to, acting innocent when he asked her if he could lick salt from between her boobs before taking a shot of tequila. Boobs that turned out to still be salty when he licked and sucked her nipples an hour later, and twirl she did, but this time on his dick, the innocent act all gone. He fucked her like he owned her, and she got fucked like she wanted to be owned by him.

“‘Morning, ‘Kuna,” a whisper in the quiet of his room. Sweet, sweet voice whose hands are now traveling towards his hardening cock. He looks at the clock in front of his bed and makes sure to not roll his eyes too obviously, opting to grab her ass to make the process of riling her up faster. He has to leave for practice in 30 minutes, but a blowjob will do.

His hand travels to her front, expert hands finding her clit immediately. He barely touches it and she trembles in his arms, already panting. So responsive. He smirks. This will take less than he anticipated.

“You’re wet already? You’re such a slut,” he groggily says in her ear. She moans. She likes that shit. His fingers find her opening, making sure to take some of her wetness before focusing on making small little eights on her bundle of nerves. “Spread these legs and shut the fuck up. The whole dorm already knows you’re enjoying yourself, you made sure they heard you last night,” he points out, biting her lobe. She opens her legs like the smart girl she is, and whines every time his middle finger catches on the hood of her sweet button. She babbles something along the lines of so close, so close, but right now he pays it no mind. “Don- don’t you dare stop-” another moan. Sukuna dips both his middle and ring finger in her opening, grinding his palm on her clit, feeling her arch her back against his chest. He knows his stuff: he’s degrading, demanding, evil, but he likes his women pleased thoroughly. Her pussy is squeezing him hard, when he suddenly registers what she said and gets away from her, bored. It’s not the first time some random girl thinks she can make him do whatever she wants just because she made him cum the night before. Which is not even completely true, because he always pulls out, even wearing a condom, and finishes with his hand. There’s no way a bum who lets a stranger fuck her is becoming his baby mama. He’s too young to deal with future college dropouts.

She starts complaining, saying how he’s so mean, ‘Kuna, you’ve been doing this all night, please let me cum, I’ve been so good to you, but Sukuna just manhandles her and gets her on the floor. He seats himself in front of her, grabbing her hair roughly and positioning her head right in front of his standing dick. She yelps, forced to look up at him and his red irises. Her eyelashes flutter, her mouth opens a bit, and she gets wetter. He’s so big and strong, his arm flexing from how he’s making her strain her neck, looking down like a king does not even toward a servant, but toward a roach.

“You’re not going to tell me what I can and can’t do, bitch,” he starts saying, glaring at her menacingly. “And I remember you cumming quite a lot yesterday, actually,” he adds smugly, and she shuts her mouth. She did cum a lot. He never missed the chance to make her scream his name. “Now start sucking, I’ll let you get off on my feet. You should be thanking me, I don’t usually let brats like you stay a second time.”

He then squishes her cheeks with the hand that’s not in her hair, making her pucker her lips. She looks at him with wide eyes, like a deer in the headlights. She’s quite literally hanging off his every word. He’s so sexy. I can’t let him be upset with me, or he won’t let me see him again! I want to be his girl so bad.

“Open up,” he tells her, and she doesn’t need to be told twice. She’s equally aroused and scared. She sticks her tongue out, getting her hands behind her back and her feet under her ass. Obedient little thing. Sukuna goes to spit into her open mouth, but he makes sure to miss and spits on her cheek instead. She flinches, but she doesn’t move.

“Oops,” he grins, then collects his saliva from her face and slips his digits past her lips, choking her with them. “Swallow,” he commands.

“But-” she tries to speak, and he responds by pressing down hard on her tongue and making her gag.

“I said swallow, whore,” he repeats, rougher this time. She makes sure to listen to him, starting to tear up. He gets his fingers out of her mouth and lightly slaps her cheek with that same hand. 20 minutes left.

“Good girl. Now suck this cock,” he orders. She doesn’t miss a beat, bobbing her head up and down. He pushes her head down how he pleases, and she starts grinding on his foot. The only sound that can be heard inside of the room is the obnoxious slurping she’s making to accommodate his length inside her mouth. He’s big, girthy, with a pretty black band on the base she’s never quite reaching, and he tastes good, so good. Almost like yesterday after cumming he scrubbed himself clean in an extra meticulous manner. Almost self deprecating, almost as if he wanted to remove his skin as a whole. Almost as if he regretted fucking a stranger just for the pleasure of it, again. But like most things about him, it’s only ever going to be an almost. Even for himself.

It’s so humiliating, choking on his dick while desperately trying to find relief, but she has to do it. She has to. His imposing aura doesn’t make her do anything that he doesn’t want to be done. Also, sucking the cock of one of the hottest guys on campus is a major turn on for whoever gets to do it, and she’s not passing up the opportunity to tell her friends from her hometown about it. She’s been at this college just two weeks and she already achieved this? They’re not going to believe their ears.

She doesn’t know that she’s not special: he’s known for fucking random girls, but they still flock to him like moths to a flame. Maybe it’s his bad boy aura, or them thinking they could change him, but the only real fact is that he’s still fucking and they’re still getting their hearts broken. Not like he gives a single fuck, anyway. As long as he gets an orgasm out of it.

“Hollow those cheeks,” he grunts, and she obliges. He’s getting bored, her head game isn’t that strong, and at this rate he’s never going to cum in time. He looks at the clock again. He has 5 minutes. This girl is sure taking her sweet time, and he’s pretty sure she already came 2 different times from how wet his foot is feeling and how she’s losing momentum again. Disgusting. Nasty whore.

He concentrates on feeling at least a bit of euphoria, making his orgasm nearer. He’d fuck her throat, but he doesn’t feel like it this morning since his head is still hurting a bit, and whatever he decides to do is law inside of his room. He’s about to nut, and he knows her jaw must be hurting, but it’s not his fault he lasts long. They never complain about it when they’re getting pounded, either. 2 minutes.

Suddenly, someone knocks at his door. He rolls his eyes and ignores it. Then, another three knocks. His eye ticks. Time slows down for him: he sees the girl at his feet widening her eyes and hazily looking up at him. He has a quick realization: he was about to cum and now he’s not going to. Then, a slow one: he’s pissed off because of the quick realization. He acts as if he didn’t hear it, again, and the girl opens her mouth again, but whoever is on the other side must be pretty persistent, because they start knocking and this time they don’t stop.

Now he’s not only pissed off, he’s angry. Who the fuck disturbs him on a Saturday morning?

He scowls, scoffs and then stands up. “I’m fucking coming,” he loudly says. He almost hears someone say fucking finally, but he’s not sure of it. He gives them the benefit of the doubt.

He doesn’t spare the girl on the floor a second glance before getting her out of the way by her hair and putting on a pair of sweatpants. She tumbles, not sitting prettily anymore. She looks disheveled and a bit out of words. He senses she didn’t get the memo since she hasn’t moved from her place. She’s pissing him off, too. He hates dumb bitches.

“Dress yourself up. You have ten seconds before I open this damn door and let whoever the fuck is here see you like this,” he coldly says. She tries to respond, and he loses all his patience.

“Ten, nine, eight…” he starts counting fast. She wobbles over her dress as fast as she can and pulls it on her head, trembling, mascara from last night still on her cheeks, a bit of her spit on her chin. He’s so scary when he’s mad. Sexy, too, but really fucking scary. She finds that she’s not able to look up at him anymore, almost bowing while she brushes her hair with her hands. He’s not a king anymore, he’s a tyrant.

“But ‘Kuna, I thought we-”

He snickers, then stops looking at her again. “Girl, I don’t even remember your name. There’s no us. And stop calling me like that, it’s so fucking annoying.”

She feels like crying. She realizes that the degrading persona in the sheets wasn’t an act, he’s like that in real life too, and she gave it to him like he was special. Like she was special.

He slams the door open and instantly feels a punch on his naked chest. Huh?

“Ew,” you say surprised, jumping back, cleaning your hand on your jeans and making a disgusted face. He raises an eyebrow.

“Ew? Who the fuck are you? What the fuck do you want?” he curses. Who do you think you are?

You stretch your lips, giving his figure a once over. He’s half naked, gray sweatpants low on his hips, very tattooed. A really big contrast with the color of his hair, which is a bright pink. He’s tall, and very strong if his bulging muscles are an indicator of that. You guess he’d look scary if you weren’t slightly upset.

“I’m your new neighbor, if you can call it that. They told me I’d find you here, and I guess I found you,” you tell him trying not to sound too bitter about the fact he so obviously ignored you while you were knocking.

“No shit,” he answers, completely uninterested.

You tell him your name, stretching your hand to shake his. “Hope we can live peacefully for the next couple of years, yeah?” you say, trying (again) to be nice, forcing yourself to smile a little.

He looks at your hand without bothering to extend his, keeping his arms crossed. He looks utterly disgusted. ”Bye,” he says and he goes to turn back inside his room.

This guy is rude. You don’t do well with people who are rude for no reason whatsoever.

“Well then, I would’ve said I’m sorry for accidentally punching you since I was just about to knock again, but I’m more sorry for my hand who touched you,” you remark, not smiling anymore and glaring at him.

He raises his eyebrows. Oh, he really doesn’t like you, and he doesn’t even know who you are. Disturbing his peace and acting entitled? Hell no.

“Be grateful you still have a hand,” he growls, glaring at you just as hard.

“Be grateful I let you know I’m moving in without throwing all your shit out of our bathroom, bitch,” you immediately respond.

He chokes on a laugh.

“Yeah, sure. There’s no way they gave me a girl as a new roommate, stop using excuses. Did we fuck? Are you here to tell me I’m a big meanie for not contacting you again?” He juts his bottom lip out, like he’s mocking a toddler. “Get the fuck out of my face,” he tells you, starting to close the door in your face.

“No, dumbass, I wouldn’t touch you with the hands of another girl, imagine what I’d do with mine. If you don’t get your shit out in 3 minutes you’ll be washing yourself with hand soap,” you wittily remark.

“‘Ku- Sukuna, who’s that?” You hear from the girl inside of his room.

“Oooh, a girl. Is she the one who put the stick up your ass? Pegged you real good huh?” you ask him, fake smiling.

He looks pissed off to the max.

“Shut the fuck up. Both of you. You, get the fuck out of my room,” he says to the scared girl, “You, we’re done talking, I hate pretentious bitches like you,” he adds giving you a disgusted once over.

He doesn’t expect you to just stare at him, though, and it takes him off guard. He’s confused: not everyday someone tests his patience so hard first thing in the morning and even manages to react like nothing happened. It makes him want to murder you and your stupid attitude.

“Bro, you’re like, so fucking annoying. Whatever, little miss princess who orders everyone around and pretends that they should listen, too,” you tell him, unblinking.

Suddenly he’s all up in your face, towering over you, and you have to pretend that your breath doesn’t hitch. Finding yourself two centimeters from someone’s nose was not on your today’s bingo list. Much less if the person in this situation is more than 200 pounds of pure muscles.

“What the fuck did you just call me?” He grits through his teeth. You can smell a bit of a smokey undertone in his breath, like he’s not a big smoker but still a smoker.

You get even closer, effectively touching your nose with his. He might be scary and the fact that he has a pair of tattooed eyes under his real ones is kind of freaking you out, but you’re not going to let a guy step on you on your first day of college. This should be one of the best years of your life, dammit.

“I called you a princess. Is that pissing you off, princess?” You repeat. He goes to shove you away but you’re faster and get away on your own.

“3 minutes, asshole. That’s all you have,” you say while walking toward the room close to his, not looking back. You feel his gaze on your back, and you flip him off before slamming your door closed.

Now alone, you start organizing your stuff to make space for the bed frame that should be arriving in a matter of hours. The lady at the reception told you that you’d have a male “roommate” and you planned on asking him for help, but there’s no way you’re asking anyone anything if they’re that big of an asshole.

You hear a light knock on your door and you almost jump out of your skin, startled, until you hear a foreign voice calling for you.

“Hello? Is anyone here?”

You open the door and almost faint. “Oh my God, he shrinked,” you whine.

The pink haired kid you find yourself facing looks confused.

“Shrinked?” he says pensively. Then he must see how you’re glaring at him kinda meanly, and he gets it. “Oh! You must’ve encountered Sukuna. I’m Yuuji, his brother, nice to meet you,” he clarifies while rubbing behind his ear and smiling gently at you.

You’re so relieved by this piece of information that your demeanor changes radically.

“Well, I must say you two look identical. Minus the fact he’s a total asshole,” you tell him, rolling your eyes and relaxing. He chuckles while nodding, and you keep on rambling. “I’m sorry for not being nice immediately, but it’s been a long day. You know, moving in and all…” you try justifying yourself, smiling sheepishly.

“Sure, I get it. I just wanted to see who’s gonna be here for the next year. If you need a hand with anything don’t hesitate to knock on my door!” he says excitedly. He looks like a softer version of the beast of the man you just came across, and he radiates puppy energy. You can quite literally see his metaphorical tail shaking and his big puppy eyes blinking happily.

“Oh! You live here? I thought this was supposed to be a dorm for college students,” you ask, curious.

“Yeah, because it is. Big bro convinced the principal or whatever to make me stay, though. I wouldn’t have had a home to stay at, anyway,” he shrugs. You widen your eyes: these are not things you tell a stranger about. This kid is either too naive or too used to things like these. He doesn’t seem to mind, though, like this is a recurrent conversation for him. Like it’s basic knowledge for anyone that comes across him and his brother.

“Oh. I’m sorry for- prying?” you try saying, embarrassed, before changing the topic. “My door is always open too, you know. I have siblings, I don’t mind being interrupted from time to time since I’m used to it. Maybe we could play together? What do you like to do in your free time?”.

He looks at you with big brown eyes. He’s serious for three seconds, and he looks older, wiser. You can feel the way you’re starting to sweat, when he breaks out in a big smile.

“I like you. I don’t mind talking about the way I lack a family, but it’s nice when people act interested in more than that, you know? I like-”

“Brat, how many times have I told you to not bother people with your yapping?” you hear a deep voice saying from outside your door. The child in front of you lowers his metaphorical puppy ears, turning to look at whoever called him.

“But she’s nice! She asked me about it!” he responds. You hear footsteps approaching your bedroom.

“Who are you even talking-” Sukuna stops mid sentence, glancing at your still standing form, then raises one side of his upper lip, almost like he’s snarling. You reciprocate with a scoff of your own.

“Her? Nice?” he says mockingly.

“Wouldn’t even have guessed you were brothers by the way he has manners you clearly lack,” you respond, glaring at him. He clenches his jaw and you think he’s trying to reign in his temper in front of his little brother, but that must be your impression, because the next thing he does is get him in the air by his collar. Yuuji trashes a little bit, but Sukuna is too strong, and at one point he just gives up.

“Let’s go. You’re not talking to her anymore,” he says to his mini counterpart, beginning to turn around while dragging him behind his back.

“But she asked me to play with her! Come on, bro, I’m bored when you’re not here,” Yuuji says while pouting. In all of this you just stood next to your open door. You almost pity the little puppy, he genuinely seems like a good kid, and maybe it’s the big sister in you but you’d hate your little brother to be bored and sad while doing nothing.

“If you help me set up my room, we can play aaaall day,” you suddenly say, getting out in the hallway and winking at the smallest of the two. Sukuna stops dragging his little brother and snaps his head toward you.

He narrows his eyes. “You little-”

Yuuji manages to free himself from his brother’s hold and comes running in front of you.

“Deal! Deal!” he responds excitedly, then gets into your room and starts unpacking by himself. You chuckle, then smile to yourself: he makes you miss home.

“If you so much as crumple his shirt, consider yourself a dead woman,” you hear Sukuna’s breath on your neck. Your hairs stand and a shiver runs down your back.

“Sir yes sir,” you say, gulping loudly. It’s not until you hear him walking away that you turn around.

“Yo, big guy, did you manage to free the bathroom from your ugly 3 in 1 body wash?”

He flips you off, then gets out without saying another word.

#sukuna x reader #sukuna jjk #sukuna ryomen #sukuna fic #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #sukuna smut #college au #big brother au #sukuna crack #sukuna ryomen smut

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clandestineloki · 27 days ago

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firefighter miguel ohara x reader (VERY NSFW)

A/N: ang sabi ko december matatapos hindi ko sinabi anong year 😇

cw: smut, creampie, rough sex, things get 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂

when you first moved into your tiny home, you had gotten most of your stuff into the house by yourself

and the last thing you needed to unload from ur dad's car was your night stand so you carried it since it wasnt so heavy

only you accidentally hit the doorknob with your elbow and it flew off 😭

so you're standing there pacing nervously because you just locked yourself out of your own house LMAO DUMBASS

but to your rescue comes none other than miguel

having just returned from a minor save in his whole firefighter getup (somebody's stove caught on fire in an apartment somewhere but nothing fatal thankfully)

miguel looks to the house on his left

and suddenly believes in angels.

aren't you the cutest lil damsel in distress :}

u're pacing back nd forth and he's trying so hard not to stare at your cute lil ass in those pretty peach shorts 😙

you see him and wave, "pls help, sir!! my door- like- uh- i dont know what happened please help me i have to get this inside huhu"

who is he to say no??

he cracks his knuckles and squares up, making you blush as he grunts and flexes his muscles.

BUT YOU DONT EXPECT HIM TO BREAK DOWN UR DOOR

KICKED IT RIGHT OFF THE HINGES

and strategically kicked it too bc both the door and the hinges were intact, the screws just came off

he brushes his hair back and raises an eyebrow at your wide eyes

too shocked to contradict, you take the nightstand into ur new bedroom and come back to ur porch with a glass of lemonade for him

he thanks you, smirking when you blush and look away.

fixes your door that quickly too like wow

a handyman! maybe u can switch that up and manhandl- *GUNSHOTS*

anyways

for the next week and a half you're out on your porch with ur fat little cat mochi, working on a crochet thing, it's a hobby you recently got into since you're waiting for your cable and internet to get hooked up

and the firetruck drives by and the firetruck guys are blasting music, having a laugh

but miguel oh he always makes it a point to subtly wave at you and wink

it always leaves you flustered bc a very attractive man is giving you attention??

but what if he does it to other girls?? but if he does it to other girls why did one of the truckies ruffle miguel's hair when he caught miguel doing that??

but you just leave it at that, maybe he just wants ur attention and when he has it he'll get fed up and find some other pretty girl :((

until mochi gets the genius idea to chase a screeching squirrel up the tree right between your house and miguel's

"OH MY GOD MOCHI!!!!" you yell. "mochi, please dont move!!"

miguel just got back from a boring day at work, wearing half the firefighter getup and a grey shirt.

his definition of fun is getting to show off why his nickname is "the spider". it's because he almost never uses ladders and climbs the houses with just some rope and his bare hands.

and today was just some fire drill at a high school nearby, and he's a little pissed that nobody was listening because the mic had terrible feedback.

"MOCHI BABY OH MY GOD STAY RIGHT THERE!!"

miguel's head perks up from his phone, brows furrowing when he hears you screaming. he rushes to the 3½ ft fence between your house and his to see you running to the large tree in your backyard.

"leave em', peaches," he sighed and leaned against the fence with his arms crossed. "cats naturally land on their feet, he'll come down in a second."

"NO YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!!" you turn to him, panic clear in your voice. "HE'S BLIND!!"

"oh SHIT" miguel jumps over the fence and runs over to you. "where's the bastard?!"

you gasp at him. "ONLY I GET TO CALL HIM A BASTARD!"

"fine, where is... it?"

"up there, MOCHI PLEASE DONT MOVE!! I'LL GET YOU BABY!"

"i wouldn't do that if i w-"

before miguel can stop you, you're already climbing the tree yourself. smirking, he lifts you off the trunk and into his arms, as if you were a cat yourself.

"peaches, you might wanna leave that to me," he chuckles riiiight up against your sensitive ear. "don't want your pretty little body getting all scratched up, mm?"

you whimper.

"miguel," you mumble, "p-put me down."

you squirm against him, but he growls and holds you closer.

"oh? and what if you're just going to do it again, mm? you gonna be a bad girl?" he asks, tracing his tongue over your earlobe, making you shiver and sink into his arms.

"m-miguel, what are you-"

"y'know bebita... you're terrible at pretending you don't look at me like you wanna fuck me..."

"wh-what?!"

the way he's carrying you reminds you an awful lot of this position you saw in porn. the full nelson. the tiny girl, all flushed and pleasure-dizzy, thighs quivering as she's pounded over and over, trapped in the thick veiny arms of her man as he subjects his little fucktoy to the roughest pounding until her brain is just as liquid as the sticky sweet potent cum leaking out of her -

"oh, look," miguel whispers, snapping you out of your dirty thoughts. mochi, despite his lack of eyesight, somehow finds his way down and glares straight through the two of you as if he can actually see the lewd way you're compromised in the arms of your handsome, secretly obsessed with you neighbor.

"there he is, the little furball," he sets you down, his hand lingering on your inner thigh a second too long as he pets the snobby little cat on his head. "your poor mami can't always save ya, y'know. i think she needs me around a lot more, hm?"

he turns to your flustered figure and smirks at your wide-eyed look. "i think you owe me a thank you."

"r-right..." you mumble, scratching the back of your neck nervously, still out of it. "th-thank you..."

to your downright embarrassment, he laughs at your pathetic attempt of speaking, and corners you against the fence.

"i think i need more than just a whisper, peaches," he drawls against your ear, one hand wandering under your shorts as he grins at the way you melt with just a little teasing.

"i'm real thirsty, bebita, so why don't you be a good girl and make me something to drink?"

which leads to right now: you're avoiding eye contact with miguel as he sits on your couch, patting at his forehead with a towel.

you're also avoiding eye contact with the very prominent bulge in his cargo pants.

you hand him a glass of ice, before turning to the fridge and looking through it.

"i-i have some orange juice, water, uh, pepsi if you want-"

"water."

you gulp. "o-okay," you take the pitcher and sit down next to him, and pouring into his glass slowly, staring at his hands because you can't bring yourself to look him in the eyes.

"bebita."

you flinch as you realize you've been pouring too much. the glass is filled to the brim.

[what you don't know is that he wishes you were too]

"s-sorry..." you mumble, scooting away from him slowly. he grabs your wrist and leans into your ear.

"can't we stop dancing around each other like we don't know where this is going?" he growls.

"wait- let me put this down!" you gasp as he pulls you onto his lap roughly, the plastic pitcher in your hands slanting and getting droplets ice-cold water down your chest.

and you have no idea how much it sounds like a dirty little moan when you go, "ngh! miguel!"

before you can even blink, you find yourself pinned down on the couch, the pitcher clattering to the floor. but your heart stops as you come face-to-face with miguel's lustful expression, his dark eyes staring into yours.

"do you have any idea what i want to do to you?"

you whimper shyly, and he curses under his breath, instinctively grinding his hips up into yours, making your breath hitch at the feeling of that right up against your crotch.

"oh you're so fucking cute," he grumbles. "think i'm really gonna break you when i put it in here..."

he torturously drags his palms up and down your legs and grinning like a madman when you whine from the sensations.

"wanted to fuck you since the moment you got here," he whispers darkly, his long fingers hooking under the waistband of your shorts and underwear. "do a little housewarming n' give you a nice, big welcome all over the couch, the bed, the shower..."

his voice trails off into a breathy shit, baby as he sees your wet pussy clenching around nothin. he looks up at your doe-eyed expression and grins.

"you gotta use your voice, pretty," he teases. "as much as i like starin' at you i can't figure out what you want~"

"i want you..." you whisper. "i want you to fuck me, miguel."

and fuck you he does. he presses his lips to yours and pushes you into the meanest mating press. "dreamed about this for so long," he growled into the kiss as he pulled down his pants. "cute little thing like you got a guy like me jerking off every night--" he starts nipping at your jawline "--ah, like a fuckin' teenager. why am i- fuck, y're so pretty- why am i so in love with you?"

he leans back to adore your flushed, needy state, and finally, finally pulls his dick out. you squeak as he rests over your bare stomach-- thick, veiny, and leaking all over you as if he can't wait a second longer.

when he pushes into you, god, the both of you feel heavenly. it takes all his strength to not plow into you like some ruthless beast. he just bites your neck, and rocks into you slowly as his thumb draws small circles on your clit, hoping to get you to adjust to his size.

it does way more than that, because within a few seconds, you're gasping and seizing under him, twitching helplessly as an orgasm washes over you, making your tight little pussy cream all over him sofucking good.

miguel's patience only lasts a few seconds after you come before his lust overrides him and he pounds you into the couch with every bit of his strength.

"miguel! miguel! oh, fuck- too much-"

you're screaming his name over and over, your walls clenching down on him as he hits the sweetest spots in you with every thrust of his hips. your nails run down his back as he fucks you like his life depends on it, and it hurts so good he can't bring himself to care about anything but you, you, you. cute, shy, innocent, cockdrunk little you.

he's addicted. and he's yours.

miguel feels himself getting close-- and knows you're getting close too, with the way your moans are getting breathier and your eyes are glossing over.

"fuck, i'm gonna fill you up so good, peaches," he groans. "cum with me, princess. make a mess for me~"

he swallows your moans of pleasure with a kiss, and fucks your through your orgasm as his tongue fucks your mouth. you whine and cry, and he spanks the side of your thigh, making you squeak and twitch under him. his thrusts get sloppy until his eyes roll back and he almost groans when he comes, thick, white cum filling you up like you're some kind of creamy pastry.

you shakily push at his chest, but he tsks at you, simply taking your wrists and pinning them to your side as he makes out sloppily, his hips moving slowly as he pushes more of his cum into you.

"take it all, peaches," he whispers hoarsely. "then i'm gonna clean it all out with my tongue~"

"miguel! that's nasty!" you whine, but he's got his mind set on it already, lifting you over his shoulder and heading to your bedroom.

he laughs, then sets you down on the bed, flipping you over with your ass sticking out. you gasp and shiver when you feel two of his thick fingers in your pussy.

"if you think that's nasty you'd faint if i told you what i wanna do with you on your kitchen counter, peaches."

#atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 smut

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joeloverture · 1 month ago

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HOOK 'EM PT. 2

hook 'em hot stuff | coach!j.m. x f!reader

masterlist | series masterlist | notifs blog | on palestine pairing: college football coach!joel x f!reader summary: [no outbreak] old habits die hard, so they say. you never understood why, but here you are, breaking into coach joel miller's house for a taste of what he's been keeping from you. warnings: (18+ mdni) reader is a bad example (a REALLY bad example), joel is so nonchalant that it's almost crackfic material, getting a semi when a pretty girl attempts a break-in, guilty joel attempts to keep his morals intact (and promptly fails), age gap (22/52), could be considered dubcon by way of power imbalance but consent is enthusiastic, undernegotiated kink for sake of storyline but don't follow this example, explicit content, pussy pronouns, daddy kink, brat tamer!joel, degradation, praise, meanish!joel, pussy slapping, belting/spanking with a belt, body writing, m!masturbation, cumplay/eating, panty play(?), face slapping, orgasm denialish (you'll see) [no use of y/n] word count: 7k (wtf) a/n: howdy. real cowboys never die so i'm back to continue what i started *checks watch* 11 months ago. (i also promised that if they won the game, i'd write this.) again, all of this is for entertainment parody, and any college implied here is incredibly fictionalized. coach!joel captured all of our hearts and he's here in this incredibly out of pocket (so out of pocket it's right) sequel. enjoy 💋

“This is head Coach Miller at Austin. I can’t get to the phone right now, but you can leave a text or a voicemail and I’ll be sure to get back to you–”

The answering message, as it plays through the tinny speakers of your phone, is dry, lackluster. As if Joel hadn’t wanted to record it at all, had said fuck it after the first take. It sounds nothing like the voice that had talked you through two of the best orgasms of your life.

You’d tried to rationalize it at first – he’s busy, a coach at one of the biggest college football programs in the United States, it’s approaching the playoffs, maybe he’s out of state recruiting some shithead high schooler – but after four missed phone calls and two unanswered texts spread out through the course of the week, you figure that’s that.

He’d been so tender with you after fucking your brains out. Dragging a wet rag along the seam of your thighs, redressing you, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. He’d even refused to let you walk to your dorm alone so late in the night, his guarding, protective arm hanging around your waist as he’d escorted you to the shitty building. Now you’re leaving clingy voicemails in his inbox, staring at a ceiling that’s probably full of asbestos as you try to make peace with the fact that Coach Miller didn’t give a shit about you – only your pussy. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

You were probably just some dumb college girl to him, close enough to graduating that he didn’t lose sleep at night over hitting it, but too far from adulthood to complement his crows feet and successful career.

Conclusion: even if it was the best sex of your life, you should’ve hightailed it out of there the second he’d offered to take you over his knee.

Again – you’re not known for making the best decisions.

You roll over on your stomach, burying your head in your arms and shutting your phone off.

The worst part about it all is that you’re fucking horny. Unbearably so. Even just sitting there, you can hear Joel’s filthy words carouseling through your head, that initial groan when he sank all the way inside of you. Your persistent horniness isn’t the only problem, either. Lately, your roommate never seems to leave the dorm, and when she does, you find that Joel has ruined your vibrator for you. Your pussy might just shrivel up if it doesn’t get the loving it deserves. He’d lit a permanent goddamn bonfire in your stomach, and it just so happened that he was the only one with a fire extinguisher.

But the same guy probably wants nothing to do with you. Probably came to his senses enough to know that everything about fucking his star player’s ex girlfriend is a recipe for bad news in the making.

There’s a version of yourself that doesn’t know when to stop. That’s the version that must be controlling you as you reach for your phone, opening up a new search. ‘Where does joel miller live?’ And, theoretically, you could stop right there, press the tempting little ‘x’ at the top of the screen and pretend that your mind hadn’t even gotten that far, that desperate. Instead, you click on the first article that appears: Miller’s new $1,000,000 Tarrytown home.

You could even stop there. Tarrytown isn’t a place for someone like you, waist-deep in student loans that need paying off. Tarrytown is wealthy and upscale, pretentious and genteel. In fact, you’d only passed through there once, almost blackout drunk in the backseat of your only sober friend’s car. You’d nearly jumped out of your goddamn skin upon seeing a roaming peacock with its feathers all spread, clucking through the street in search of a mate. She’s teased you about it ever since, but with what you have in mind, you’re about to be impersonating that peacock.

Knowing that the bastard lives in Tarrytown would usually be enough to put you off — if it were anyone else. Your ‘eat the rich’ values apparently stutter when there’s a chance of getting your pussy eaten.

Curiosity kills the cat, and so you poke around Zillow for recent sales in Tarrytown. Lucky for you, only one fits the description in the article. It’s multi-story, built on a half acre behind a centuries-old oak tree. And going for the hefty price of $1,002,358.

Nine minutes away. A good commute. Gated, and probably for good reason, considering what you’re about to do.

You throw on a nice, lacy set underneath your black clothes and top it all off with a black baseball cap. You’re pretty sure it’s Lucas’s, your shitty ex’s that had technically started this whole mess, but you can’t be too sure.

You don’t tell your roommate where you’re going, just that if everything goes well, you won’t be back until tomorrow morning.

You chain your bike to a lamppost, and it sticks out like a sore thumb on the cobblestone sidewalk. Even though you’ve already seen the pictures, Joel’s house is hardly even a house. It’s a fucking palace with windows for walls and a vaulted roof. Everything is stacked on top of each other, and the oak tree mentioned in the listing casts a shadow along the structure. The gas lamps adorning the gated limestone archway are on, and the flames wince across the concrete path leading into the home. They aren’t bright enough to blow your cover if Joel happens to peek through the many, many windows, but you steer clear of them regardless.

The gate really isn’t that tall, only about eight feet off the ground. A nearby sturdy tree gives you a good place to prop yourself up as you haul yourself over it and into a well-kept patch of ferns. You roll into the dirt, grunting as you almost fall flat on your ass. Your elbows catch you at the last second, and you take a few deep breaths.

You dust yourself off, squinting through the front of the house in hopes of catching a glimpse at him. He’s definitely home, and probably away, too, judging by the amount of lights that are on. Still, no sign of him. All football coaches have to be a workaholic. You wouldn’t be surprised at all if he was in his home office with his feet propped up, watching tapes of his opponents to prepare for the next game.

Good. Less chance of him seeing you right away.

Joel seems like the type of guy to subscribe to the ‘fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me,’ philosophy, so it makes sense that both of his garages are closed. You half-crawl, half-crouch your way through the front yard, careful not to crush any more of his plants as you creep your way up the front steps. You give his front door a shot. Locked, too.

“Shit,” you mumble to yourself. You inch through the brush, turning the corner of the house and taking cover behind his rumbling air conditioning unit so you can scan the back patio.

Of course Joel Miller has a pool. And you’d bet good money that he never uses it. There’s an unlit fire pit surrounded by a sunken seating area nearby, and you slink through the area to make your way over to the terrace. Your hand reaches out for the doorknob, but it doesn’t even get there before you’re eating shit for the second time that night.

A body slams into yours as you hit the ground with a cry, your shoulder taking the brunt of the impact as concrete scrapes at your palms. Even though it’s dark and everything feels like you’re trapped in a kaleidoscope, you’d have to be an idiot not to recognize the familiar weight pressing into you. Strong thighs wrap around yours. Calloused hands grab at your wrists, effortlessly pinning them over your head. You squirm, trying and failing to knee at the small of his back.

You should be scared, terrified, maybe, of what he could do to you. Push you into the pool and tell you to fuck right off at best, call the cops and have you arrested for two counts of trespassing at worst. But instead, all you can think about is the insistent press of his bulge between your legs, his broad shoulders hanging over your torso, his long fingers twisted around your hands. All of it renders your heart racing and your body motionless. You look up at him, unable to stop yourself from eye fucking him. Loungewear is a good look on him, gray sweatpants low on his waist and a tattered longhorns t-shirt. He has his reading glasses on, and fuck, if it doesn’t do something to you.

A tiny whimper slips out, and, naturally, that’s when Joel’s dark eyes flash with recognition.

Joel mutters your name, surprise thick in his tired voice. “What the hell are you doin’ in my backyard?” He goes back on his haunches and lets go of your hands. You rub at the sore spots he’d left in his wake.

You don’t answer, opting to look away to hide the shame that’s plain as day on your face. This was stupid. You’re so fucking stupid.

“Are you always tryna catch a charge?” Joel asks. He shakes his head at you, forehead wrinkling as he furrows his brows. All you can do is nod in response. “Un-fuckin’-believable.”

He finally lifts off of you, groaning as something in his back pops when he stands upright. He reaches down at you, and, stubbornly, you ignore his hand in favor of picking yourself up. You dust yourself off again, winching as you brush against a patch of skin that’s sure to bruise later.

“C’mon,” Joel says, nudging the back door open. You step inside and pause to wipe your shoes on the rug beyond the threshold.

The interior is also just as fancy as the Zillow photos had suggested. You find yourself in a lounge with a vaulted ceiling, surprised to find just how Joel the space is. There’s sports magazines on the coffee table and a half-empty longhorns tumbler filled with black coffee. The TV on the mantle of the fireplace is playing a rerun of a Dallas Cowboys game, surrounded by memorabilia like an unmarked high school football helmet, probably a souvenir from his varsity career.

“Now, what’s got your panties in a twist?”

“You didn’t answer my texts,” you say, albeit a little dumbly. You rub at one of your elbows to try to shake off the embarrassment.

Okay, aloud, it does sound just a teensy bit like an overreaction.

Joel blinks at you. Takes off his reading glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. Then, releases a long, winded sigh. “Shit – hun, I’m so sorry–”

“Save your sorries,” you spit back, suddenly angry of all things. Angry that he has you wrapped right around the same fingers that had been inside of you, angry that he hadn’t answered your calls, your texts, your voicemails, angry that he has the audacity to ask what happened. “All that talk about treating me right and you can’t even pick up the fucking phone. I’ll leave right now if you’re not interested, but the least you could do is let me know.” Your lower lip quivers.

He goes quiet, toeing at the ground. His hands land on his hips. “Darlin’–”

“He cheated on me and you trampled all over my emotional vulnerability so you could get your dick wet. How the fuck does that make you any better than the boys you promised to be better than? You’re just like them. Fucking your way through half of the campus and nothing to show for it.” You’re breathing heavily as your eyes burn more and more by the second. You keep thinking you’ll have more to say, but you don’t. Everything in your body feels like lead, and time moves like molasses. Only silence meets you. Of course, it’d end like this. You, humiliated, and him, held all but unaccountable for his actions.

You squeeze your eyes shut before turning around on your heel to leave the way you’d come. His hand, soft and guiding as opposed to the last time he’d touched you, wraps around your forearm. You plant your feet in the ground, but still don’t turn around to face him. “You’re right,” Joel says, voice acquiescent. “It wasn’t fair to you. But ‘s part of why I didn’t pick up. Ain’t right, you ‘n me. I took advantage of you. Practically coerced you.” You swallow, but it’s like swallowing needles. “You shoulda reported me the second you got back to your dorm. For… for violating you like that.” He damn near spits the word out like it’s poisonous. Violating.

If that’s what’s holding him back…

You shift, facing him. He scratches the back of his neck. His flush bleeds down to his chest. “Joel, the absolute last thing you did was violate me. I wanted it. Haven’t stopped fucking thinking about it. That’s why it hurt so bad when you left me hanging.” A frown pinches your lips. “You could’ve at least let me know, Joel.”

“You needa quit thinkin’ about it. Ain’t gonna do either of us any good.” He exhales. “Besides. Even if I wanted to reach out, I’ve been workin’ 17 hour days in prep for next week’s game. This is the first day I’ve had peace ‘n quiet since we…” He trails off, cheeks somehow reddening even more.

“How often do you do that?” you can’t stop yourself from asking.

“Do what?” he asks, his own lips falling into a frown. He looks a little bit like a kicked puppy, being on the receiving end of your confrontation.

“Take girls half your age over your knee at the workplace. Let them call you ‘daddy’ while they squirm in your lap. Fuck them?”

He squeezes his eyes shut and hisses. You can almost see the memories flashing behind his eyelids. “Gotta stop talkin’ like that, hun.”

“No,” you say, voice quiet. “Really. How often?”

“Never,” he says, and he sounds sincere. “Been over a year since I was last with someone. Been a whole lot longer since it… felt that good.”

You take a step closer to him, tongue slipping out to lick your lips. “Felt good for me, too.”

He shakes his head, still denying what you’re laying out so plainly for him. “Just ‘cause it feels good don’t make it right.”

“Doesn’t it?” you ask. You cock your head, brows brought together and eyes round with want.

He takes a slow, unsteady breath. But he doesn’t step away.

“I’m an adult Joel.” You reach out to him. Again, he doesn’t step away. Your hand flattens against his shoulder.

“Not one of your brutish, sweaty players who only thinks in frat vocab.” You drag your palm down from his shoulder, across his chest, fluttering along his stomach.

His eyes close as your thumb snags the waistband of his sweatpants. Still, he doesn’t intervene. “I’m a grown woman with a future ahead of myself. It’s not in the handbook that you’re forbidden from engaging in this sort of thing with a student, so long as they’re not one of your players.”

“Yeah, yeah, I read the handbook, kid—”

When you palm at his bulge, he’s already hard.

You hitch a brow at him. A snide remark sits on your tongue.

“Shut the fuck up,” he grouses, and then shoves you back on his couch. Your impact knocks a tacky, tasseled throw pillow out of the way. You yank off the cap you stole from Lucas and toss it over your shoulder.

“Beggin’ for a dickin’ down,” he says. “Trespassing on my fucking property for it like some lunatic. That’s how bad you need this cock?”

You nod like you’ve forgotten how to do anything else. With how you act when you think of Joel, that’s… probably the case. “Joel, plea–”

He slaps you across the face. Your vision pixelates and your head rings, but the handprint blooming on your cheek translates to slick blooming in your panties. “Nuh uh,” he says. “You know my name, smartass.” You moan, hips jerking to meet his.

“Daddy,” you whine. “It’s all I’ve been thinking about.” It is. No silicone toy or plastic cock nestled in your bedroom drawer compared to the man in front of you — and you’d know. You tried them all.

“Ain’t a surprise there,” Joel says. “Bet you’ve been rubbin’ yourself silly thinking of your daddy, mm?”

“Yes!” you damn near squeal out as Joel roughly palms at your tits. You get stuck in the labyrinth of your shirt as you fumble out of it, arms finding all the wrong holes. Finally, you toss the thoroughly wrinkled scrap of fabric over the couch. “Every day, sometimes more,” you admit, because it’s the embarrassing truth. When it comes to him, you’re loopy, off-kilter, teetering with desire and want.

“Dirty girl, aren’t you?” he says, unclasping your bra. He lures your arms out of the straps. His throat bobs as he eyes you up. Based on how you look in the reflection of his dark eyes, he’s been thinking of this. Because for all his virtuosity, Coach Miller crumbles at the thought of defiling you. And he damns himself for it.

He says, “Came allllll the way over here to get fucked in this little number. Why, ‘cause your fingers ain’t enough anymore? Buzzing buddies not doin’ it for ya? Can’t make yourself come without me, hm?”

“No, no, I can’t—” you exhale at him, desperately arching your back to push your tits into his sports-calloused hands. He gives you nipples a squeeze and twist, and it’s electricity straight into your clit. Your squirm, legs kicking helplessly beneath him. “Daddy.”

He pouts at you. “Damn shame. Creamy, drippy little pussy like this…” You hadn’t noticed his hand lowering until he cups a hand around your clothed mound. Your hips jerk. “Bet she’s squeezing real good ‘round nothing, isn’t she? Wants to take daddy nice ‘n deep.”

“Please, daddy, I want you to fuck me,” you gasp out. Your head lolls back as his thumb presses over your clothed clit, the friction from your panties amplifying the sensation as he rubs you in tight, successive circles.

“Yeah, well that’s what you want. What you’ve earned is a belting. Hell, maybe even a paddling for a repeat offender like yourself. Gotta stop getting into scenarios where I needa spank you right. Clearly didn’t whack ya hard enough last time, girl.”

You pout at him, and he only rolls his eyes. “Really. First you had some revenge syndrome, and now you have dick disease. Have to make you earn it, sweetie. ‘Specially when you keep on diggin’ your own grave.”

“You spanked me last time we did this,” you mumble.

“Oh yeah? And I remember you leakin’ everywhere like a goddamn busted pipe. So shut your trap and bend over for me, mhm? I know this pussy likes when I’m rough with ‘er. Know you like it.”

You cross your arms. Consider leaving chin-up with your pride intact — not out of lack of interest, but out of stubbornness. But you can already feel your wetness smearing across your thighs. Not only did you come all this way hoping for this exact thing, but you can imagine just how uncomfortable the bike ride back to your dorm will be with the seat of your bike pressed into your crotch.

You bite the bullet and toss a pillow to the floor. You fold yourself over the couch.

It feels distinctly familiar and indistinctly unfamiliar. Just a few days ago, he’d hauled you over his knee for the same reason. Attraction lit like a match, and discipline served properly.

You hear Joel shimmying around in the vicinity and tilt your head to look at him. First, you’re captured by the broadness of him, how he can easily manhandle you with his stature. But it’s hard not to be distracted by how his house, for all of its grandeur, is little more than a fifty-year-olds bachelor pad.

The walls are mostly bare apart from the occasional art that looks like he snagged from Homegoods. Everything is so modern and brutalistic, all sharp-edged and cubed. “You need to hire an interior designer with that batshit crazy salary of yours,” you tell him.

He huffs out a half-laugh, and returns to your side with a belt he pulled from the table. You squint at the buckle. It’s a pewter longhorn. Of course. It’s like they have a longhorn fetish. They just can’t shake the obsession with the cattle.

“Gonna spank me with your livestock whip?” you snort.

Joel stares you down, unimpressed. “You think you’re funny,” he says. He sits next to where your cheek rests on the couch and gently rubs a circle into your back. His face turns serious for a moment. “I know I didn’t verbally establish this last time — and that’s on me — but you can ask me to stop any time. I hope you know that.”

You give him what feels like a bit of a dopey look. “I know, daddy. I know my limits, too.”

“Attagirl,” he says, patting you on the back. He gives you a look, seeking permission, and you nod. He tugs your pants down. They slump to your folded knees. You tap your fingers against the soft material of the couch. Joel reaches over you and under the gusset of your panties, swiping a long, thick finger through your weeping cunt. Your hips rock, chasing the sensation, and as if reprimanding you, Joel gives a swift tug to the back of your panties, lodging them deep within your cheeks. You squeak in surprise and stop your squirming. He chuckles breathlessly above you.

“Still got this… calligraphy… ‘a mine all over your ass.” He traces his thumb along each letter of the trophy he’d left you. The w, the h, the o, the r, the e. When you left the stadium that night, it was with a reminder of exactly what Joel thinks of you. “‘S like you’re tryna make it last, mmm? You like knowing you’re my whore?”

A tiny whimper splits from your mouth, forehead tilting into the crook of your shoulder as to hide your face. You manage a nod.

“Nuh uh,” Joel says. He reaches for your wrists and pins them behind your back. “Thought you’d knew better than to be repeatin’ the same song and dance. I know you can behave, slutty girl. Just gotta give you a nudge in the right direction.” He palms your ass cheek the same way he’d palmed your tit, and a chill travels along your skin at the perceived feeling of him being so close to your cunt.

He’d ravaged and ruined you, and you walked right back in to let him do it all over again.

Joel folds the belt in half, the gaudy buckle clanking as he turns his day-to-day belt into the perfect implement to administer your punishment. You muffle one of your noises as he drags the leather along your skin, raising gooseflesh in his trail. You can tell he’s tracing the letters, stretched and faded to near-obscurity, along your ass.

You expect him to bring it down across your ass, but instead, he teases it between your legs. Your breath stumbles over your teeth as the leather streaks along your clothed clit. Your hips chase the passing sensation, and the bastard snorts at you. In spite of Joel’s grasp around your wrists, your fingers twirl in anticipation.

“Pathetic ‘lil pussy. Dripping and squeezing even if you’ve got a thrashing comin’ up. Maybe it’s because you’ve got a thrashing coming up. Masochistic mess over here.”

You scoff, “Yeah, and a hot mess, if ‘Lil Joel is any indicator.”

The first hit takes you by surprise. Leather erupts across your ass cheeks, and your fingers scramble for purchase — impossible to find, with how Joel grips your wrists. You make a surprised noise, head tipping to knock your forehead into his thigh. “Shit, were you the quarterback? Packing a punch this time, Coa— mmph.” Your trailing, pathetic sound is muffled by the abrupt splat of his belt back on your exposed ass.

“Had enough ‘a your sass, baby. Can’t be giving me lip when your other set is salivatin’ all over my floor.”

You grunt, squeezing your eyes shut so you don’t glare at him. Dick. Fever licks up your spine. It wraps around your neck, making you lightheaded and nebulous with want. Arousal leaks down your inner thighs. When you press them together in hopes for relief and that Joel’s old man eyes will sabotage him, you’re not shocked by the next thwack of leather against your skin. It still makes you jolt.

“Not gettin’ away with that, sweetheart. Better not see ya ruttin’ against this couch either. Already had to scrub down the one in the locker room since you sprayed your pussy juices all over it like a sprinkler.”

“Yes, daddy,” you grumble. He raises a brow at you, face stern and hard.

You make up for it not verbally, but by arching your back and wiggling your hips. A willing participant in your own demise. It’s only a matter of time before the anaphora of Joel’s belt whacking against your ass has you keening for his cock. You’ve already begged for it every night this week — just with your own hand fishing between your legs for an orgasm you can’t seem to catch, and with his name glued to your pillowcase with your drool.

“See? That’s more like it.” You press back into him as his hand lets go of your wrists. It’s a brief respite, and you cling to the edge of the couch as his hand traces down your back, cupping your ass. Your eyes roll back as his finger slips past your panties and prods at your entrance, barely half of a knuckle.

“Daddy,” you pout.

“Sweet… as…” You look up through lidded eyes at him. Watch as your slick stretches hammocks between his fingers. Watch him slide them into his mouth, sucking them clean with an audible pop. You cunt clenches, demanding something that he doesn’t seem eager to dish out. “sugar.” he finishes. His fingers glisten.

“Daddy,” you say again. Needier this time. Longing. Wanting.

“Bet you could come untouched from this shit, couldn’t ya?”

The thought makes you shiver, but you shake your head back and forth fast enough to give you whiplash. You want — need him to touch you.

“Aww, poor little thing wants to come?” he all but coos at you. This time, you nod fast enough to take your own head off. “Too bad.”

You squeal as he brings the belt down again, toes wriggling as if they can run away from how electrified your body is. “W-what?” you choke out.

“You want daddy to let you come?”

Your hands fist into the couch cushion. “The fuck do you think?”

You don’t even see him move before you feel the belt, ripping like lightning along your inflamed skin. “After you snuck into my stadium?”

“After you vandalized one ‘a our new uniforms?”

You’ve tensed this time in preparation, but it’s not enough. The next swing of his arm has you crying out. Your pussy clenches and more wetness gushes from you. “Ungh, Daddy!”

“After you came snoopin’ around like the Pink Panther?” Two lashings, for that. Both in rapid succession, crackling flames along your hypersensitive skin. You don’t even have time to give him snark. You wail, and half of it jerks out of you in a ragged moan.

He’s too quick at giving your ass another lash. “After being a cock hungry temptress who’d do anything to get that drippy ‘lil hole between her legs stuffed?”

If you were sore after your first encounter with the man, you fear for your capability to sit after this one. “I’m sorry!” You sniffle a little, and while your eyes may be watering, you squeeze your eyes shut so not to cry. It’s embarrassing enough to be laid out in front of him like this, quivering with juices weeping down your legs.

“Cute,” Joel snorts. “Sorry for what, exactly? Bet you got a laundry list of misdeeds. Risqué little girl like you, so quick to put her ass up in the air and take a beating insteada owin’ up to her mistakes.”

“I’m sorry,” you gasp out. “F-For breaking in.” You frown. “...Twice.”

“Coulda had you in the slammer by now, girl. But no. You just want me, dontcha? All up in your guts…” He grabs your ass cheek and squeezes, kneading the flesh there and leaving it with a shrill slap. You whimper. “Whallopin’ this pretty little peach. Sortin’ you out. Bein’ your daddy.” He grips the inside of your thigh, nudging your legs further apart. His hand, large and ridged with callouses, travels up your knee, over your thigh, down to your core. You shudder.

“Daddy…” you plead. You tilt your head and look up at him properly. How he looms over you, his free hand wrapped around your opposite shoulder so he can hold your side against his thigh. A tiny smirk quirks his lips, and his nose crinkles. There’s a glint of mischief in his dark eyes. “Please.” Your voice comes out as a lust-thickened whisper, bittersweet like molasses.

You think he might throw you a bone. Might thrust a finger or two into your dripping heat, which throbs and has a heartbeat of its own whenever he’s around. Instead, he slaps your mound. Your clit twitches, and you stream slick onto his hand. “Ah! Daddy!”

“Drippin’ like a busted pipe, baby. All from bein’ tossed around a bit.”

You’re floating, now. Or perhaps a more apt way to describe it would be that you’re firmly planted on the ground — just facedown while the room spins and spins and spins.

“Honestly, I didn’t know this elite university admitted little sluts like yourself. Bet you hold yourself all prim and proper while you’re all academic during the day. Then you get home and, what, rub yourself silly? Spank yourself because you know you deserve it? You wanna get split open on this cock, roughed up, talked down to.”

“I do, Daddy, I do!” you whine. “I told you — I’m sorry! For all of it. Please, I want whatever you’ll give me. A-Anything.” You feel as if your bones are matches, each one lit up in a chain reaction all the way to your core, which melts and melts down the insides of your thighs. “I’ll do—”

“Anything, baby?”

You nod eagerly, your moistened lower lip jutting out.

“Alright, alright,” he says. His voice is calmer now. Steady. He pats you on the ass softer this time and taps the couch next to him. You scramble up on the cushions, kicking off your shoes and pants in the process, and lay back. Your fingers twitch with the desire to just touch him. From this angle, you can see the definition of his bulge in his sweats. You remember how all of him felt inside of you, as if your entire body had to reshape itself around him, had to make room for the amount of space he occupies. He tosses his belt onto the coffee table.

Your cunt is a kickdrum between your legs. Juices dribble down the creases of your thighs, and for a moment, you fear that you’re actually ruining another couch of his. If you are, he doesn’t say. Just hitches his waistbands down and —

You audibly moan.

“Slutty ‘lil whore,” he says as he takes his fat cock in hand. Precum beads at the tip, and you find yourself licking your lips. You salivate at the sight of him. The heavy balls hanging low beneath his cock, his girth, and the taut, tan skin of his thighs. He’s enrapturing.

“You’re cute, baby,” he says, but the words are condescending. That’s probably why it makes you drip. “You look real good with them ‘fuck me daddy’ eyes. Maybe they’re jus’ that glossy ‘cause your ass is still stingin’. But you deserve it, dontcha? For wanting it?”

“Yes sir…” His eyes flash with something narrowly close to possession. Your teeth dig into your lower lip. With his free hand, he reaches up to your lips, pulling down your bottom lip and running his tongue along the seam of it. You take it upon yourself to suckle on his thumb, tongue swirling around the rough pad of his fingertip. Your tiny moan buzzes around the digit. “Mmph.”

Joel’s eyes, dark and dilated, trail up your exposed form. “I’d shove my cock down that tight throat of yours, but you ain’t earned it.” His hand drags down your chest, tugging and groping at bare skin. His wet thumb plucks at your nipple. Your hips hitch, grinding against thin air. Joel tuts. “Thought I whipped some sense into ya. Or some goddamn manners, at least.” His hand leaves your chest and pins one of your thighs to the couch. You squirm.

“Daddy,” you mewl. “I need – something.”

“Daddy,” Joel mocks in a high-pitched, imitated whine of your plea. “You stay right still. You’re fortunate enough I’m letting you watch.”

It’s then that you realize what he’s planning to do. Deprive you by jerking himself off all over you.

“No, no, please– I promise I’ll be good! I’ll be good, please, I n-need your co–”

Joel slaps you across the face. Again. This time, it’s harder, enough for your head to roll to the side and your eyes to roll back. Your cunt throbs. Your hearing clangs like windchimes. “Do not whine at me like a petulant child. You’re a damn lucky duck that I ain’t knocked you on your ass for all the shit you been pullin’. So you’ll sit there, and if I see you raise so much as a fuckin’ hair on your head to touch yourself, I ain’t afraid to spank that pussy raw, too. Bet you wouldn’t be touchin’ it if it was all sore and achy.”

You look down and give a small, half-nod.

“Go on. Be a good girl and ask for it,” Joel says, brow hitched. Self-righteous bastard.

You mumble something faintly under your breath.

“Wanna repeat that, baby?”

“Jerk your cock off on my pussy, daddy,” you whimper out, hips still squirming on the couch.

“Mmm, that’s more like it.”

Joel taps his cock against your clothed clit. A warning, almost. “Ngh, daddy, I–”

“Don’t start,” he scowls and inches back a bit. Then, he wraps his hand around his cock and gives himself a languid pump. He groans, eyes going lidded as he starts up at a steady pace.

“I was going to say… I want you to come on me.” You take heavy, labored breaths, matching the rapid rise and fall of Joel’s chest. Sweat is darkening the creases of his shirt as he works himself.

“Yeah? Ain’t a surprise, there. Filthy slut wants daddy’s come all over her pussy? Gonna walk back to your dorm with it dryin’ on your undies?” You’ll make fun of him for that later. But now, all you can do is nod at him. “Or maybe I’ll stuff ‘em in your smart mouth. See how ya feel when you can taste how much of a whore you are.”

You gasp, back arching even though there’s no pleasure for you to chase. He gets off on this. On denying you. Degrading you. It’s a high like nothing else. “Please, I– I want you to stuff them in my mouth–”

Joel hisses. You see his cock twitch in his fist. “Make you walk home all leaky and wanting, just like a hussy should? For all those fits you’ve been pitchin’?” He grunts as his hips roll to meet each wet thrust of his fist. His lips are parted, head hung while he stares at your soaked pussy. How your panties cling to your folds. He moans, thumb brushing over his tip. More precum drips from the head, trailing down his wrist. His back curves inwards as he leans closer to you.

He squeezes the hand he’s got wrapped around your leg. “Daddy, daddy!” He’s close, you can tell. Each breath he takes is short and rasping. Each thrust gets clumsier. You think you could come from this alone. The image of him, huffing and red-faced while he fucks his fist right in front of you and calls you names. “Come on me, please, I want to be covered in you–”

He moans, and his cock jolts in his tight grip. “I’m comin’, baby, I’m comin’.”

Ropes of his cum sprays on the gusset of your panties, once, twice, but before the third spirit, he wraps his hand through the leg holes of your panties and tugs up. You make a choked, frazzled moan, and maybe it’s the way the fabric pinches your clit, maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you as if you were made to be devoured. Maybe it’s just how pent up you are.

You tense and then shatter in one go, your orgasm gushing into your panties. Seizing, your back arches up off of the couch as one of your palms clambers for purchase over his. “Fuck, daddy,” you moan pathetically, hips thudding against the couch while you rock into the taut fabric. You fall back, limp and reeling.

“Fuck,” Joel says, breathless. He stares at where your white-stained panties steep in your convulsing cunt, how more juice seeps out of them with each clench of your wrecked pussy. He wipes the sweat from his forehead with the back of his palm. “Really are a nasty girl. A little pain slut, aren’t ya baby?” His eyes glitter while he looks at you, and you imagine he must be close enough to getting hard again that he can’t come through on his promises of anger.

“Roll over for me,” he says, tapping your thigh.

“Mmph?” You say, arm thrown over your forehead. Your eyes squeeze shut while the aftershocks hurdle through your muscles. “Oh, yeah.” You fumble, and your sweat-slick skin sticks to the couch as you turn yourself over.

You hear a little pop, and can’t help but look over your shoulder. Of course. A Sharpie. This time, it’s gold.

“Gonna get a reputation, Miller,” you smirk at him, kicking your feet while he situates himself between your knees. He tugs your soiled panties off, and, as promised, guides the gusset to your mouth. You suck on it, eyes fluttering as you savor the conjoined musk of your mingling juices. It’s tart, but a little sweet. You feel the marker tugging at your ass, and hiss a little when he traces over a particularly sore spot.

“Yeah, well you already got one. I’m just makin’ sure you don’t forget.” He gives your ass another smack when he’s done, and you squeak. The couch stops slumping, and he pads across the room.

You stay there, head rested into your elbows and panties hanging out of your mouth while he rummages around in the vicinity. He comes back with some aloe gel. Gentle, he removes your panties from your tongue and tosses them on the table. You lick your lips, giving him a knowing look. He only rolls his eyes as he massages it into your bruised skin.

“Went a little hard on you this time, darlin’,” he says after a few moments of comfortable silence.

“I liked it,” you say.

“Yeah, I noticed.” He pats you dry. “If you got any ice packs back in your minifridge, wait a while before you ice that. Gotta let the skin repair for a day or so.”

“Aye-aye,” you say before rolling over to face him again. He’s tugged his sweats back on, but he’s golden with a post-sex glaze, a glow of sweat and contentedness.

“‘M sorry,” he says again.

Your brows pucker. “I already told you, I lik-”

“No, for how I treated ya. Ain’t right to promise you somethin’ I can’t give ya.”

“You just gave it to me. Quite well, might I add,” you tease with a cloying grin.

“I can’t take you out,” he says. Your grin slips. He drags a hand down his face. “Everyone in this fuckin’ state, everyone in the goddamn south, even, knows who I am. Imagine the shit they’d say. Lucas–”

“Is a dick,” you say.

“Is a dick, but is also my kid. My mentee. The future of this team and my career, too. And even though he might be an asshole, he’s a good throw. Not to mention the three decades b’tween us. Not a good look, ‘specially for you. You got a whole world ahead ‘a ya. I can’t take that from you just ‘cause we have good sex.”

“So let’s just keep having good sex,” you say. “It’s the simplest thing in the world.”

“Yeah,” Joel says with a roll of his eyes. “Simple.” But then he seems to look like he’s thinking about it. Properly. He swallows. Crosses his arms over his broad chest. “Fine.”

“Really?” You say, brows raised. You’re surprised that worked.

“Want me to take it back?”

“No,” you say.

He simpers. “Thought so. Now c’mon, let’s get you cleaned up.” He beckons you down the hallway after him, and you scoop your long-abandoned clothes off the floor.

A smarter version of yourself would agree with him. But this version of yourself, the version that hopped his fence tonight, wants nothing more than to run back to the throttle of his hand and the loosening of his belt.

That version of yourself is the one who follows him down the hall.

#vetty's words 𓇢𓆸 #coach!joel #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller/reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #hook 'em fic

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