#and DAMN i know i've called him the nasty priest but. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

charliedawn · 2 years ago

Text

Bo Sinclair x Reader :

WARNING : EXPLICIT. MINORS KEEP OUT. I MEAN IT.

Author : I've got no excuse for writing this. It's pure filth. I just discovered Bo Sinclair and I wanted to write something about him because....HE'S SO PRETTY ! And the accent got me. Okay. I just...Yeah. I'm going to Azkaban for this. Enjoy. 💜

It all started with a look—barely a glance really...He could have ignored it easily. He could have looked away and kept praying to whoever was listening...But, his eyes seemed to find yours every single time.

Bo was but a wee boy at the time, and you were...How should he put it ? You were infuriating in the best possible way. Your parents had landed in Ambrose a few years back for work, and he had met you at one of those boring Sunday church's gatherings.

A discreet smile, a knowing gleam in your eyes and then, the tip of your tongue wetting your lips...His eyes were drawn to it immediately and his breath hitched. He bit his inner cheek in order not to huff out a laugh as you cheekily winked at him and you hid your smile behind your conjoined hands. You were doing everything but praying at this point...But, he still pretended to be focused on what the priest was blabbering on about instead of how his heart was beating a thousand miles an hour.

His parents noticed. Hell—the whole town noticed. But, they didn't care enough to stop the both of you from seeing each other.

True. You had never called him more than your best friend when he wanted to kiss you and let you ride him from night till dawn but, hey ! Losers can't be choosers. That's what his mother had always told to him anyway.

So, when you had decided to leave and start a new life outside of Ambrose, he didn't stop you. He actually wanted to go with you. He had left you a letter—telling you he would be go with you if only you'd ask. He wanted to go and be happy with you—like he knew he could have been.

But, he didn't find you the next day and realized that, you were already gone—without even saying goodbye...And he regretted that letter every minute of every day, because it was the only existing proof of your power over him, the proof that he used to have a heart...one you tear away from him the day you left. He never told you that the only thing keeping him sane at the time was you. He went down the murder slide the moment your lovely self wasn't there to be his moral compass any longer...and when his parents died, that's when Ambrose really went downhill and he couldn't do a thing about it.

The Sinclairs were the only ones remaining now, and he thought he would never get to see you ever again...until his little brother found you that is.

Now :

You had just turned left to take Curtly street when you car seemed to hit something on the road. You soon found out that one of your tires had burst—because of the heat no doubt—and you sighed deeply in annoyance.

It was going to be a long day...

You closed you eyes and then, you heard a car pull on your side of the road a few steps further. You opened your eyes and looked at the old run-down truck and frowned.

Why did it seem so familiar ?

"Damn. That was a pretty nasty bump on the road. You' alright, stranger ?", the owner of the truck asked before leaning forward to check on you. The way he drawled his words, his kind smile and familiar dark eyes made you think back of the days where this town used to be your home.

"...Letty ?", you asked hesitantly and his smile faded for just a second as he wondered how you knew him ? You were both surprised, but his eyes quickly lit up in recognition as you smiled up at him.

"...Y/N ?"

You nodded and quickly got out of the car to give him a big hug. He was taken aback for a moment before he smiled—happy to see you again.

"Letty ! It's been too long."

Lester's smile turned genuine as he remembered fondly all the memories he had of you. True. You had never shared the same special connection than you used to have with Bo—but you had always been good friends. He closed his eyes and took a big breath of your familiar fragrance...Even after all those years, you still smelled like sweet pineapple to him.

You eventually had to pull away and he bumped your shoulder playfully.

"Sure has ! What are you doing back in town ?" He secretly hoped you were here to visit them. Lester eyed your car and mentally registered that it looked like you would need a little help to get back on the road...Maybe you'd even accept to stay for a few days ?

"I was driving by and thought I'd give the old folks a visit. How have you been ? How's the family ?", you asked and Lester's smile faltered slightly as he thought about his brothers. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously before answering you frankly.

"Well, Vincent still is ol' Vincent. Still carves. And Bo...Bo is Bo. He took care of us. Ya know...since Ma' and Pa' died.", he explained and you lowered your eyes in sorrow. You had never approved of how they treated Bo, but it didn't mean you had wished them any harm.

"I'm sorry.", you told him truthfully and Lester nodded absent-mindedly.

"Yeah...", he replied and shook his head before smiling again. "Say, dya want me to drop you off in town ? Bo could fix your car and you'd be on your way in a day or two—tops.", he estimated and even though he knew it didn't take long for a flat tire to be changed—he hoped you'd accept.

You smiled and were about to accept when you thought back on how you had left things with Bo...He didn't know you were back, and you didn't know if he should ? Lester was too young to remember, but you had entered into a huge fight before you left and you didn't know how he would react by your sudden reappearance ? Would he mind you staying for a little while ? On the other hand, it would be considered rude to refuse and you really needed someone to get a look at your car...

"Fine.", you finally said before getting in the passenger seat and Lester's smile widened. He then drove you back to town and you arrived in front of the garage. You hopped off and started looking around—but no Bo to be found.

"Thank you so much for giving me a lift.", you told Lester who beamed at you.

"No problem.", he then eyed you a little closer and then realized something. Your clothes. You were dressed very...nun-like.

"Say, Y/N. Why you dressed like that ?", he asked.

You looked down at your clothes and offered Lester a knowing smile before extending your hand forward. "Sister Y/N."

Lester's eyes widened at the realization and he laughed in disbelief.

"No shit ! You actually a nun, or sumthin' ?", he asked and you laughed kind-heartedly before shaking your head.

"Nah. Not yet anyway...Just preparing myself for it. I was on my way to the covent to pledge my vows. I truly believe it is my calling...you know ?". Lester tilted his head to look at your blissful smile. He didn't really understand, but you seemed really happy...which meant he was happy.

But then, he thought of Bo. He knew his brother had been waiting for you to come back since forever...Lester was even sure he had a picture of you in his room somewhere...

"Wow...Deep. Didn't know you cared so much about all that religious stuff. Kinda figured you came here because Bo was here.", he confessed and your eyes widened slightly in surprise.

"...Really ? Why ?"

"I was asking myself the same damn thing."

You both turned around to see Bo standing there—his eyes set on the both of you with a small scowl on his face. Bo sent a warning glance to his little brother who immediately started staring at the floor sheepishly. He hadn't meant to talk more than he ought to—but sometimes his mouth seemed to go faster than his brain.

Bo then took a glance at you and stopped himself from snorting at your new dress code.

Yeah...As if that was true. You couldn't hide anything from him. He knew you. You were no saint.

He had thought of you for years—had dreamt of you even. He had imagined all the ways his hands could have grabbed you, squeezed you, make a big fuckin' mess out of you...And, you were here now. Damn. To think he had just wished upon a star to get you home and here you were.

Wishes did come true.

"Y/N. It's been a long time..", he greeted you with a polite smile and didn't expect it when you suddenly embraced him and smiled against his cheek.

"I missed you, Trouble.", you said and Bo almost lost it at his old nickname. He was almost ready to shed a tear and return your hug—only to remember how you had left him. You hadn't replied to a single letter he had sent you and the knowledge made his hug a little too tight for comfort.

"Yeah. Me too." You frowned at the sudden coldness in his answer, but didn't say anything.

Bo finally released you and glanced up at Lester who seemed confused at the odd exchange. Bo then eyed the exit sign significantly and Lester quickly understood and let out an awkward chuckle before walking away.

"Well, now that I brought you to the best mechanic in town, I'll be going. He'll fix your car in no time.", Lester assured you and you nodded with a small smile.

"Yeah. Thanks, Letty.", you said with a bright smile.

He nodded shortly and when you had your back turned, Letty's smile vanished for just a second as he glanced at Bo worriedly. He knew what the look on his older brother meant, and Lester shook his head negatively.

'You ain't killing her. She ma friend.', he seemed to say with his eyes. Bo cocked his head and narrowed his eyes at Lester who quickly understood he better get out of here before he got his ass whooped. So, Lester gave you one last concerned look before shaking his head once more and walking out.

Bo waited until he was definitely out of sight before turning back towards you—all prime and proper. You had grown into a fine young woman, and he had an itch at the tip of his fingertips to tarnish this repugnant stench of perfection emanating from you. He had followed your discussion with Lester from the shadows and the thought of you—belonging to anyone but him—made him sick.

You had left him behind, but you were back now. He knew he could paint you in suffering and bring you back to the Y/N he knew and loved. He just had to be patient and make sure to wait for his moment to strike...

He smiled.

"Candy ?", he asked before pulling two out from his pocket. You smiled and accepted one gratefully before popping it into your mouth without a second thought—not noticing how the corner of his mouth twitched upward at the sight.

"It's been a while since you last visited. Want a tour ?", he asked and your smile widened as you nodded eagerly.

"Sure. Hope I didn't miss much. Did you get to do that little wax museum you and Vincent used to talk about ?"

He didn't answer. He preferred to show you.

You walked side by side in the streets and you frowned in incomprehension at the empty streets that used to be buzzing with life. What had happened here ? He led you to the church where you had first met and a chill ran through you at the wax statues there...They all seemed so real—their expressions so life-like. It made you feel as if they were staring at you—warning you. But, you then glanced at Bo and the look he gave you made you want to understand.

He seemed so broken.

"What...happened ?", you asked and Bo let out a small sigh.

"They all left...like you did." He hadn't meant to add that last part—but the way you looked up at him in surprise made him frown.

He grit his teeth and his jaw twitched as you seemed so innocent...free of guilt.

'Lucky you', he thought bitterly before looking at the alter. He had waited for you...For fuckin' forever. Only to realize that you were never going to be his when your parents had told him that you had decided to go away, live your life away from Ambrose—away from him.

"Bo...What are you talking about ?", you asked and he couldn't help but snort in disbelief.

Why did you seem so clueless ? Didn't you know how many times he had tried to reach you ? That night...you hadn't even answered his letter. He had waited all night for the both of you to run away together. He had waited...and waited...and waited...only to be met with big fat disappointment.

"...I don't fuckin' understand, Y/N. What happened that night ?", he asked and your eyes turned sorrowful as you turned back towards him with your eyes playing a sad tune of pity...He hated that look.

"Bo…I…", your heart quickened and you felt trapped as you were surrounded by Bo and the other various wax statues. You couldn't breathe. You tried to move, but he kept an iron grip on you as his ocean blue eyes stared at you intensely—pinning you into place.

"I don't understand, Bo...What night ?"

Bo groaned loudly in annoyance before grabbing your arm and pulling you flush against him. He wanted you to look at him—see the pain and hurt you've caused him.

"...That night. The night you left. The letter I left you. We were supposed to go together. We were suppose' to be good for each other."

You eyes widened slightly at the information and his arms felt like molten iron chains around you—burning you. You tried to push him away, but to no avail.

"Bo...Please. You're hurting me.", you protested—but your complain fell into deaf ears as Bo let out a blood-curdling laugh that reverberated all around the church and only tightened his hold on you.

"Hurting ?", he asked in mocking disbelief. "You don't know hurting...You only know how to hurt."

You had left him behind—as if he was nothing. But, no more. You would never leave him again...

You didn’t have the time to ask what he was talking about that he weaved his fingers in your hair and suddenly pulled you against him, his lips mere inches from yours. He had waited for so long to have you like this...Who could have guessed you would be stupid enough to come back ?

"Kiss me…", he commanded you in a whisper and Bo was so close to you—you could feel his hot breath hit your face. He sounded so desperate and on the verge of breaking.

"I...Bo...I can't.", you tried to deny—but he wasn't convinced. He had waited for so long—it was high time to rectify his mistake and get rid of whatever little regret and conscience he had left. "Come on, sis’. One kiss. And god as my witness…I'll fix yar car brand new and you won’t see me ever again."

You hesitated. Bo seemed adamant and not in a negotiating kind of mood. You didn't know what letter he was referring to, but it seemed to have deeply affected him. You wished you had the letter in your possession, that you could read it and make out what had been so important to put Bo in such a state.

Was it a love letter ?

An apology letter ?

A lovesick poem ?

"One kiss ?", you finally asked and Bo smiled victoriously—knowing he had won.

"That's right. One kiss."

You looked around at the wax statues and gulped. You were uncomfortable to do this in a place like this, but you had no choice. You puckered your lips and Bo found it endearing when you closed your eyes shut and leaned forward—like a child about to get their first kiss.

"Good girl.", he praised and then smashed his lips against yours. You whimpered slightly at the brutality of the kiss as he started discovering every single part of your mouth and devouring you like he was a starving man—ready to die for a piece of you. He was sucking your soul out of you and you could only fall limp into his arms and let out a series of small high-pitched noises as he seemed unbothered by your buttery state.

"Ssh…Wouldn’t want to wake up the wax puppets, right ?", he teased you when you could barely stand up straight and he grinned knowingly before snaking an arm around your waist to hold you up. "Don't worry, darlin'. I got ya."

He then started leading you further into the church and your brain could barely comprehend what was happening to you as your legs started moving on their own. No..That's not...Something was wrong.

"You...liar.", you whispered as your eyelids fluttered—the glaring lights of the church rendering you blind—and Bo chuckled as he pulled you closer and opened the back door to the church.

"What ? Never said I was honest. Besides, you can’t give a kid a lollipop and just expect him not to suck on it to the heart. I want more. And you' gonna give me more."

You felt dizzy...What was happening to you ? You couldn't think straight and it seemed that Bo knew exactly what was going on as he settled you down on a bed and didn't hesitate before binding you to it.

"You can't imagine how long it took me to find you...How long I've dreamt of this moment...", he spoke to himself more than you—but you listened—and the pieces of the puzzle finally slot into place in your head. A vague moment of clarity.

He had planned it all...You realized. Not only this moment. He had planned it all...The flat tire, Lester coming to get you, the candy...He had planned the whole damn thing. And you had been so easily tricked.

Your eyes watered and you started crying beyond your control. You wished you had never come back to this damn town in the first place. Bo looked at you and his eyes softened for a moment.

"Ssh...sweetling. I'll make you feel good. Promise. Just, stay still while I see what I'm workin' with, yeah ?" He dropped to his knees and raised your skirt quickly, eager to show you just how good he could make you feel. He thought he would have to prepare you first, but smirked as he discovered something that made his lust for you go through the roof as he glanced up at you.

"…Damn, baby girl. You’re actually drippin' wet. If you wanted me that much, could have just said so in the garage. Would have saved us both sum' time.."

He wanted you to laugh. He didn't know why...He just wanted you to laugh like you used to. He hated the fact that he had to tie you up and make you stay still, but he couldn't trust you yet...And, he had waited long enough.

"You're the devil...", you told him with tears straining your cheek. You looked up at the ceiling and tried not to let him see how affected you were by all this. You loved Bo. You always had...But, you had genuinely no idea why he was doing all this.

He was the one who had asked you to leave in the first place...

"Thanks for coming to terms with that fact so fast, darlin’.", he replied sardonically with a small dark chuckle before suddenly burying his face between your thighs to lick a long strip along your inner thigh. "....You taste sweet, sister. Gotta give it to ya'."

You tried not to cry and think of the way his face was now staring at the one place you thought you'd get to keep intact until the day you died. And even though it was wrong, you liked the way his hands felt as he was pining your down on the table, you liked the way his lips felt against your skin, and most of all—you loved those deep blue eyes fixed on you as he was doing his best to remain focused. Your eyes blurred as you threw your head back at the sensation in your lower region. You didn’t know if he would be mad if you screamed—so you tried to remain silent and still as he kept working on you.

But then, he clicked his tongue in annoyance and stopped. "Ain’t you enjoying this ? Why ain’t you making any sound ? I know I ain’t the Michelangelo of suckin' pussy, but come on !"

For just a second, you were sure to have seen a flash of insecurity in his eyes and you wondered if he really thought you ought to scream to tell him how you felt ? But, it was clearly over as he tsskd dismissively.

"Ya know what ? Fine…I love a good challenge." He then proceeded to throw your legs over his shoulders and pull you infinitely closer as your hand desperately weaved itself into his hair and you pulled instinctively at the dark brown locks. Bo moaned as he started licking and sucking at your clit like a wild savage beast. Your eyes prickled with tears as you threw your head back once more—but still—you refused to give him the satisfaction of your screams. And then, you felt it—this irrepressible urge to just let go. And then, with one last pull on his hair, you came all over Bo's face who seemed surprised at first, but finally laughed.

"Damn, girl. You really missed me, didn't you ?" You looked down at Bo who seemed to be waiting for something as he watched you intently. You opened your mouth to say something—but were interrupted by Lester's voice in the church.

"Y/N. Bo. Are you there ?", he asked and Bo sighed loudly in annoyance before wiping your cum off his face. He ran a hand through his hair to get back a semblance of composure and then, he lowered your skirt and helped you up. You almost fell on him—but he caught you and smirked smugly.

"Don't fall for me too fast, darlin'. It's just the first day. We got plenty of days to go for that."

You eyes widened in horror at the realization that he intended to keep you. You tried to shake your head negatively and speak up—but the look he gave you shut you up immediately. You could only hold onto him for dear life as your whole body seemed to be shutting down. Did he mean to kill you ?

However, the door suddenly opened and Lester appeared. He looked at the both of you and frowned in disapproval at the position you were in.

"Y/N. You alright ?" You wanted to answer—but Bo squeezed your hip in warning and answered for you instead.

"She's perfectly fine. Just a little dizzy. Ambrose will do this to ya, isn't that right—sister ?", he said before looking down at you with a small playful smile and even though your body couldn't hold itself, you tried to push Bo away. But, it was like trying to get a stubborn bull to move—impossible and pointless. You finally looked up at Lester with tears in your eyes and opened your mouth—but no sound came out.

Lester understood and looked away—his lips pressed into a thin line.

Somehow, it felt ten times worse than if he had hit you.

He turned around and left without a word.

He couldn't help you...You were Bo's now.

Bo looked at him leave and like everything so far—seemed to have planned it all...He knew that Lester would be coming to check on you, and hadn't hesitated to break his own brother's heart...

That's when you knew.

Beauregard Bo Sinclair was the devil. Lucifer used to be beautiful before he fell...And Bo was the incarnation of this ethereal and terrible beauty. As if he could feel your eyes on him, he gave you a side glance and licked his lips significantly and he cackled at your bewildered expression.

"Come on, darlin'. Let's get you home."

Somehow, you doubted 'home' would be into the safety of your own.

A few days later :

For days on end, you had been kept in Bo's bedroom, praying for forgiveness to whatever god would want you now. Bo hadn't touched you since the day of you arrival, and you still maintained thus a small glimmer of hope that he would set you free eventually—when he would get bored.

As you had done so many nights over, you had your hands joined in front of you and praying harder than ever. But, Bo kept coming back to you...Bo and his eyes. Bo and his mouth. Bo and the temptation.

And, as if summoned by the thought of him alone, he came trudging in with a small disapproving scowl on his face. He leered at you as you didn't even look up at him when he came in.

"Hey, sis'. Are you gonna say sumthin' today—or your words are just for the Pa' in the sky ?", he asked and you glared at him.

You refused to talk, because you were mad at him.

He smirked at the spite in your gaze.

"Sumthin' to say, hun' ?", he asked—but was disappointed when you turned your eyes away and got back to your praying.

Oh...So, that's what you were going to play at, huh ? Playing deaf and dumb.

Fine.

If you weren't gonna talk to him, then he'd make you scream.

You yelped when he caught your legs and dragged you towards the bed to throw you on top of it. You tried to kick him, but he seemed amused rather than angry.

You dared give him an attitude—the silent treatment. He chuckled darkly...He was going to tame it outta you faster than any dog he ever had. You were going to be so good after this. He was going to make you his one and only slut for a lifetime...The thought alone made him dig his fingers into the flesh of your thighs and you couldn't help the little gasp that escaped your lips.

"Come on, darlin'. Talk to me. Pretty please ?" You glared at him and the pent-up frustration of suddenly becoming one of Bo's many conquests made you grow confident—unwisely so. You huffed a humorless laugh of disbelief.

"You stole my vertue. My future. My everything...And you want me to talk to you ?"

His eyes darkened perceptibly at your accusation before he took a handful of your hair and forced you to look at him when he spat harshly.

"Shut up. I stole nothin'. I just made you come, Y/N. Be grateful I wasn't in a selfish mood that day, or it could have been far worse."

He then all but growled at you before pressing his lips against yours and your eyes widened at the harsh way he attempted to force your mouth open—his available hand gripping your jaw with enough force to pop it open.

You wouldn't give him the satisfaction to beg though—no matter how much it hurt. He had taken enough from you already.

Bo was sure there would be a time when your arms would finally wrap around his neck and he would be able to finally get you to return the favor—but not today.

Instead, he got slapped so hard—he almost fell backwards. He glared up at you and was about to yell when he saw the tears in your eyes.

"Fuck you, Bo. I loved you, you son of a b—! I loved you and you...you...", you were at a loss for words. He had just threw your life away without a second thought. All of that for some stupid letter you had never received...

"Ya....Ya really mean that ?", he asked—sitting on his ankles with his legs spread and in different circumstances—the sight could have been taken as attractive...But, you were too mad to think about it and just sniffed and looked away.

"Get out, Bo.", you tried to tell him—but were taken aback when he pressed a tender kiss to your bare ankle.

"You have no idea...how much I wanted you to say those words. How much I...How much I dreamt of hearing them. All those nights...Alone. Dreaming you'd have say those damn words the night you left."

The pain in his eyes made you question everything you thought you knew about Bo. He was looking at you like he used to...like the little boy you loved used to.

"What was in that letter....Bo ?", you asked softly and slowly moved to the edge of the bed to look him in the eyes—no longer angry.

"You really don't know ?", he asked—surprised and confused. He had put it on your nightstand, right next to your bags. He had waited for an answer...For anything.

But you never gave him an answer.

"I was gonna ask you to marry me.", he disclosed and your eyes widened as your eyes watered.

"Oh Bo...I'm so sorry..."

He let out a humorless laugh.

"Yeah. Me too..."

You hesitated before sliding to the floor and gently wrapping your arms around him. He stilled for a second before finally burying his face in the crook of your neck and hugging you back. He hummed against your soft skin and couldn't help but smile at your familiar scent...Sweet pineapple. He took a deep breath and tightened his hold on you—bathing in your warmth. He was fucked up. There was no denying it. But, goddamn...He wished you could love him again.

Just for one night.

Just for one moment.

Just for a minute...

"Come on, sweet thin'. Gimme a kiss.", he told you—his voice almost whining as he pressed his nose against yours and tried to convince you by pulling you closer to him. He tried to steal another kiss from you—but you turned your face away.

No. He wouldn't trick you again.

But, your refusal wasn't received agreeably as his hold on you tightened and he insisted.

"Gimme a kiss I say."

At this point, you knew there was no point in arguing. You complied and he hummed appreciatively.

"Hmmm...Good girl."

However, he didn't expect you to bite down on his lip and stomp hard on his foot before sprinting for the door. You succeeded in opening it and running down the stairs faster than a coyote a night of full moon. You weren't getting caught. You had to get out of here.

You loved Bo, but the Bo you knew was dead—he had died the same day the whole town did. The front door was thankfully not locked, so you succeeded in running past the garden. But, you hadn't expected Bo to actually jump out the window and chase after you. You were bare foot and you knew the man had the stamina and the muscles of a beast. But, you would be caught dead before returning to that house and be locked up again.

However, you were tackled to the ground with such force—the air was momentarily knocks out of your lungs. You struggled underneath him—but it was useless.

"I give you one—only one—chance to make me believe you. Make me love you again. And you do this ? You’re another kind of b*tch, you know that ?!", he hissed through gritted teeth and you cried out.

"Let me go ! Please !"

He froze for a moment and you thought he'd at least consider it...But, he only hummed before leaning his front flush against your back to whisper in your ear.

"Hmmm…Beggin'. Now, that’s a new thing I might get used to pretty quickly. Beg me for more, darlin’. Come on. Beg, and I might give you what you need."

"Please. Please, Bo. Just…Please…Just let me go. I won't bother you. I'll go back to the covent. I'll spend the rest of my days there...Just...", you pleaded—but it seemed the mention of the covent only angered him further as he buried your face in the dirt.

"Shut up ! I'm tired of you whining about some dumb covent. Now, you gonna tell the sisters you ain't taking no damn vows and promise to stay with me. If I have to drive a mile to fuck you on their own goddamn dinner table right in front of them to make you understand, I will !"

He was so upset, he didn't notice when hot tears started running down his face. He was just so goddamn tired. Why won't you see ? Why won't you understand ? Your place was here. With him.

He turned you around swiftly for you to face him as his stormy blue eyes seemed to bore into yours.

"...Why won't you love me now ?", he asked with something emotional in his tone. He then lowered his head to hide his face from view and gripped you tighter than ever. He didn't want to let you go..not again..never again.

"Bo...", you called him softly—trying to calm him down. He was angry and you were afraid of what might happen if he was to stay so upset. You called his name again and when he finally looked up at you once more, you smiled and pressed a light kiss to his cheek. It was the best you could do—the best you could offer a man like him. It was one weak attempt to call him back to you, to reassure him. Because no matter what your told yourself—you still cared for him.

He hummed before closing his eyes and for a moment—you thought it was working. But then, he gripped your chin and hushed you when you started whimpering at the pain in your jaw.

"Tell me, ya really thought that would work on me, sister ? You gimme a kiss and that'd be the end of that ? A way to 'get Bo to stay happy'. Nah. Don't think so...You ain't getting away with it so easily."

He then pulled you up by the hair and started drag you back to the house—but you shook your head and grabbed his arm.

"Please, Bo. Please. No. Not again. I don't want to go back in there. Please."

He stopped dead in his tracks and sighed.

"Fine. We can stay here.", he indulged and your eyes widened in shock—but you should have know better than to hope. "Out in the open for everyone to watch and see.", he added with a small smirk.

"See what ?", you asked and Bo looked down at you with a malicious grin.

"See you pray of course..."

Your eyes widened at the request and you shook your head. No...Everything but that. No. He wouldn't..He couldn't...You lowered your eyes and closed them tightly. This was a nightmare. You had to wake up eventually...right ?

He tapped the side of your leg with the tip of your shoe and you were brought back to reality.

"Well ? Start praying, sister. Start praying to the only god who has power over your current life and death. Better pray hard. Your life depends on it..."

You took a deep breath before looking up at Bo who was looking at you expectantly. But, you then asked with a weak smile.

"Bo. Tell me...Did I ever do anything to deserve this ?"

His smile faltered for a second before he burst out laughing and wiped an imaginary tear from his left eye.

"Aww...You're just too cute, sweetheart..You think this is about you ? Nah, darlin'. It's all about me. Cause ya see...Every single time I tried to be nice to people, it'd come back to bite me in the ass. I take care of my sick parents ? I lose my parents. I take care of my town ? I lose my town. I take care of the love of my life ? I lose. AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN !", he seemed frustrated at the end and his knuckles turned white as his breathing started picking up significantly. He was exhausted and bad memories just kept coming back at the front of his mind like a bad horror movie...He then looked down at you with cold and merciless eyes.

"And to be honest ? I'm fuckin' tired of losin', sweetheart.", he admitted and then, he stood back up before patting his lap significantly. "So, get to it. Start prayin' and worshipping—because I'm the only one keeping you alive.", he told you and your breath hitched at the lack of all warmth or empathy in his gaze.

He was dead serious.

And you knew better than to disagree.

Your started fumbling with his belt as your trembling hands seemed unable to unbuckle his belt and Bo licked his lips. He didn't try to help you—reveling in the way your hands brushed against his crotch occasionally as you couldn't help but struggle with the belt buckle. He stared down at you and after few seconds, finally tutted playfully.

"You're making your god wait...Rude little doll, ain't ya ?", he teased.

Your face flushed different shades of red and you were scared you might end up dead if you took too much time...so, you decided to improvise. You didn't want to make him mad and zipped his fly open to start mouthing his cock through the fabric. He hadn't expected it and his eyes grew wide.

True. He had been expecting a blowjob, but he didn't thing you'd be this eager.

True. You didn't really have a choice...But, hey. He did think you'd use your hand instead of your mouth.

You knew that was a possibility, right ? No ? Well...Oops.

He smirked darkly at the sight of your spit-covered chin and realized—you must have actually seen porn before. Had to. You had gone straight for the target—no hesitation or big wide doe eyes fixed on him, waiting for him to explain. He bit the inside of his cheek at the realization and his eyes fluttered shut for a second.

Had you ever thought of him in all those years apart ? He hoped so...

"Always knew you'd be a natural. On your knees all day and spurting prayer over prayer...But, you’re just a little slut inside, huh ?" He eyed you with a knowing grin and then pulled you away from his still-clothed cock to effortlessly open the belt you had had so much trouble with before and let it fall to the ground before grabbing a fistful of your hair and getting rid of his boxers with the other. You had never actually seen one up close like this and couldn't help but feel shy all of a sudden. It was one thing to lick a piece of cloth, it was another to have the thing shoved down your throat...

Shit. Had you been a porn star in another life ? He'd have probably bought all of your VHS'...He threw his head back and let out a deep sigh as you kept sucking.

"~Yeah. That’s my girl…", he praised you when you started bobbing your head up and down and your eyes closed as you started focusing on the task at hand. And lord help him, he was actually starting to believe in heaven... "Ya know...There’s something about your face that I love. This why I didn’t glue those pretty little lips before. You’re a terrible tease, but I got the message pretty quickly. I saw it in your eyes. You were teasing me, weren’t you ? With all those innocent little glances and lovely little blushes you desperately tried to hide…The fuckers at the time fuckin’ dared to call you innocent in front of me."

He made sure to pull you further onto his cock until you were desperately gasping for air and he kept you there—watching as tears streamed down your face and you couldn’t even move your head. He tsskd mockingly before jeering. "If only they could see you now...Innocent…INNOCENT MY A** ! You're sucking dick like a true sex dream come to life."

You closed your eyes and tried not to let him know how much his words affected you. But, Bo seemed dead set on knocking some good hillbilly wisdom in you while you were desperate not to suffocate on him and his words.

"...Pretty girl from' big city. All to end up sucking...", he took a shaky breath. "...the worst guy possible in the...*another shaky breath*...worst town possible."

He sighed and grunted occasionally as you swirled your tongue a certain way. He didn't shoot his load in you—but because he would have been unable to stop otherwise. He turned his cock away from you and the white substance ended up on the grass. He sighed at the sudden change of temperature. Your mouth was so warm and the cold air hit his balls faster than if it had been Christman Eve.

"Come here.", he commanded and left no room for discussion as he started rolling your dress up. He was tired of waiting. He wanted your fucking blood, sweat and release on his cock and he'd have his damn wish.

"Please, Bo...Don't.", you tried to stop him—but it was futile. Bo pulled your back flush against him and clamped his hand over your mouth firmly.

You had ignored him for days without saying a word—and now, he couldn't seem to be able to shut you up.

"What ? You ain't ready for the main event yet ? Aww...Baby.", he faked feeling sorry for you—only to use his fingers to circle your clit.

"Promise ya. You soon will be..." He pressed a sloppy kiss against the skin of your shoulder while urging your orgasm by picking up the speed of his movements. He wanted to feel you come apart, right next to the wax statues. He'd send the covent a lovely letter with stains of your tears on the paper.

When you came, he bit down on your shoulder—hard—and relished in the small cry you let out.

He'd only allow you to worship one god from now on:

Beauregard fuckin' Bo Sinclair.

He suddenly retrieved his hand and wiped it on his pants before leading you outside of the main street. He then pushed you unceremoniously in his car and started driving out of Ambrose with a small smirk on his lips.

You were going for a ride...

The lost letter :

#fandoms #imagine #fanfic #bo sinclair #bo sinclair x you #bo sinclair x y/n #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair smut

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tofics · 1 month ago

Text

As promised: here comes my in-depth review of this masterpiece! 🤩 (Seriously, do yourself a favor and read this. It's delicious from top to bottom.)

I just wanna say, you have such a way with words.

[...] hitting perfectly the dime-sized crucifix situated comfortably between two pert tits sheathed in sheer black cotton.

Well damn. No shame in Joel unable to look away from that. I'd be all over that too. 👀

You’re not sure what you enjoy more—disrespecting your insane Catholic mother, or knowing that Joel is undressing you with his eyes—but you can’t help yourself feeding into his fantasy.

💀 Now personally, I've thankfully never had to deal with religious disagreements within my family or friend circle, but I know plenty of people who have dealt with it and this phrasing just made me crack up. It's like the reader gets to kill two birds with one stone and I'm totally here for it.

Bare, supple skin is on display as you get up from the deck chair. You turn to him with a prurient twinkle in your eye, and ask if he wants a drink too.

I'm sorry, am I supposed to be attracted to Joel or the reader here? My bisexual-ass can't decide 😩

You ogle Joel, biting fiercely the skin of your bottom lip. And it doesn’t go unnoticed.

I seem to have misplaced my knife to cut through this thick ass tension!!! 🥵

Joel swigs his beer—letting your dad drunkenly ramble—and doesn’t take his eyes off of you. Wondering how he’s going to make you pay for torturing him like this.

😇 I shall happily endure whatever punishment he sees fit.

“Didn’t feel like hittin’ the bars.” Candidly, you say. It’s refreshing. “Can’t be dealin’ with pervy old men tryna touch me.” Less refreshing.

Joel going from 😌 to 😒 within a matter of seconds 😆😆

Joel’s blood runs cold, and you smirk. He swallows thickly the liquid acrimony bubbling from the chasms of his throat. He wants to screw that stupid grin off of your face—stuff his cock straight between those plush lips and throat fuck you ‘til you’re crying and gasping for air.

"Liquid acrimony bubbling from the chasms of his throat" 😩 Ayooo. Had to look the word up (acrimony) only to immediately fall more in love with your writing. How beautifully written, not to mention the deliciously filthy content that follows right after. 🤤

“No need to get all protective. No old coot is comin’ anywhere near me.” You look directly at Joel when you say; “old men can’t do what guys my age can, anyway.”

🤪🤪🤪 Reader out here making Joel's blood boil two kinda ways. Get it, girl. Tease him til he cracks.

Ever since she went back to Kansas—which was totally code for I fucked the priest and got extradited from the church—[...]

“It might be nasty, but ‘least you don’t have to worry about me bringing home a man your age. Or even worse; older.” Gary gets to his feet—knees clicking and cracking as he does so—and nods. “‘Spose that’s true, kid.” Joel. Is. So. Fucking. Pissed.

“She makin’ ‘ya squirm?” You blink at him. “I beg your pardon?” “Your pussy.” Joel—as candid as ever—elaborates. “Is she flutterin’ ‘cus ‘a me?”

NOW LISTEN HERE. I read this very late at night and genuienly had to hold in my giggles. I was kicking my damn feet under the blanket!!! THE AUDACITY. The fucking HOTNESS. Just straight up calling her out on it as soon as dad's gone. Eeeeeeeeeeek!!!!

“Don’t worry if so. I have that effect on the ladies.” “Makin’ yourself sound like a slut, Miller.” Coolly, you respond. Your hand is reaching for a can of beer, twining fingertips around the base while another pulls the tab.

Eheeeeeeee!!! 🤣🤣 That's what she GETS for fucking with him all afternoon. Ohhh I am so here for it. His confidence. The reader suddenly all 👀 Did he really just say that. Ohhh I love love love this whole bit.

You trail a finger through the valley of your breasts, collecting the sticky liquid before you’re putting it straight into your mouth; sucking it clean. Your eyes are locked on Joel’s.

Well Christ on a cracker. Can I get a side of the reader too, please? Would Joel mind sharing? I know I'm supposed to be her but god DAMN.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t ’ya?” Is what he says in response. He’s quick witted, you’ll give him that. “My tongue stuck in your pretty little pussy—“

Why yes sir, I would. So kind of you to offer. When and where?

“I’d have respect for ‘ya, but the way that peachy fuckin’ ass was in the air when ‘ya bent over the cooler tells me that daddy’s ’lil girl is more of a slut than me.”

“Nah, I’m good.” You’re leaning back, now, lifting your legs to sit criss cross applesauce. The barely-covering-your-crotch sheer fabric of your thong catches his eye; a glint of something wicked flickers through them as he clears his throat.

I feel like I'm at a tennis match. My head just whipping back and forth, watching them fire shots at one another. Who's gonna win???

If you’re playing the long game, then so is he. He can out-stubborn anybody.

Oh I bet.

It’s killing him, this. It’s torture. But he’s strong. Ish.

Can't blame ya, Joel. With a sight like that? Sheesh.

A weakness of his, that is. You referring to him as Mr. Miller has always gotten him hot. It’s innocent, almost. It’s like that’d been engrained into your brain by the god-fearing fruit-loop that brought you up, and you can’t quit saying it in these situations.

"God-fearing fruit-loop" 💀🤣 But I just know he's gonna be telling her to call him Mr. Miller when he gives it to her.

Mentally, Joel’s cock is spearing open the tight hole between your legs; making you scream his name. He’s thrusting his prick up into your cervix while you ride him like he’s the last cowboy on earth, desperate to feel a kind of pleasure that no man your age could ever bestow upon you.

🫠🫠🫠 Yee-fuckin'-haw, baby.

He wants nothing more than to wrap a hand around the base of your throat and fuck you into next week; feeling damp walls contract and seize around his cock—

“If you’d shut your fuckin’ mouth, I’d be able to finish.”

Snappy Joel just does something to me. 🙃

“Dead sure, angel face.” He quips. “I know for a damn fact that you’d be havin’ trouble takin’ my fat cock all in one go; be cryin’ for everyone to hear.” Through long, thick lashes, you stare at him. “You’d be seein’ stars; and not just the ones above us right now.”

Go on, then! Prove your point! How do we know you're not just all talk and no show, Mr. Miller!!!!

“Suck your soul right out from between your legs.” “Oh, Joel.” You moan, a little.

😶🫥😶‍🌫️

“Can’t think of anything that’ll bring me more pleasure than you fuckin’ me ‘til I’m crying. Or gasping for air.” “You ‘n me both, beautiful.” You smile. You give Joel your underwear, before you’re running your fingers through his hair and he’s letting a hand glide up the meat of your thigh and beneath your skirt. “Just a shame, ain’t it.” “What’s a shame, sugar?”

Kicking my feet!!! Howling at the moon!!! Giggling like I've gone insane!!! 😩😩

“Huh?” He says to get your attention, for you still haven’t answered. “What’s a shame?” Fingertips trace over broad shoulders enveloped in soft, warm flannel. You’re leaning closer; hot breath on his skin. Your lips part to whisper: “If daddy ever found out about this, he’d kill ‘ya.” “Baby—“ You’re taking the panties from his hand, and tucking them into the breast pocket of his shirt. Fighting a blush—feeling very proud of yourself—your face remains straight.

Oh. Shit. Did homegirl just deliver the final punch?

You tap at his chest and walk away, but not before throwing a “night, Miller” over your shoulder.

DING DING DING. WE GOT A WINNER!!! Reader walking away like:

Re: your tags: HOWLING. "Please don't look at me. I'm ovulating" GIRL YOU GOT ME PREGNANT WITH THIS FIC AND THEY NEVER EVEN SO MUCH AS TOUCHED.

What a fucking delightful read this was. 100/10 going on my favorite's list for SURE. Chef's kiss!!!!

CRAVE | Joel Miller

SUMMARY: there’s only one thing that joel craves, and it isn’t the mental fucking torture of an overly stubborn twenty-something teasing him ‘til he’s blue in the face. and balls.

PAIRING: dbf!joel miller x afab!reader. legal unspecified age gap.

WARNINGS: MINORS DNI, 18+ CONTENT BELOW THE CUT. alcohol consumption. pervy old man joel. reader’s dad (i’ve named him sorrrry) is there before joel gets pervy. some religious themes and also descriptions of religion in a negative light (this is MY experience with christianity, if you do not agree then please don’t read), no explicit smut but descriptions of what joel wants to do to youuuu so: mentions of piv, cock-riding, oral f!receiving, choking if you squint, dirty talk asf, joel being cocky which leads to his cock being sad and alone. reader is cunty. not proof-read ‘cus, once again, i’m a lazy bitch and i don’t have time for that. enjoy. 🫶🏻

An end to craving is an end to suffering.

Today’s last stream of sunlight fulgurates through the branches of your father’s prized Texas Ash, hitting perfectly the dime-sized crucifix situated comfortably between two pert tits sheathed in sheer black cotton.

Joel tries not to stare, but it’s impossible. He’s been watching you all fucking night. Every time you get up, he’s been glued to your ass. Whenever you lean over, Joel can’t seem to pry his eyes away from your cleavage. The more he’s been drinking, the more brazen he’s been with his stolen glances.

When your father rambles about some work-related spiel—and you’re sitting so innocently across the way—he can’t help affixing his eyes to the swell of your breasts. Wondering what it’d be like to touch, and grope, and suck on them.

Your mother was right about him. For all of the years that she knew Joel while your parents were together, she’d always say that he was trouble. A good-for-nothing, splenetic, perverted old-man who was but a bad influence. And you never noticed, never cared. You always thought that he was a great friend, and a stand-up guy.

Until today. Until you saw him scrutinizing your form—in front of your dad—you had a lot more respect for Joel. But now you realize that your mother was right. He is a perv. But—fuck—do you love that.

You’re not sure what you enjoy more—disrespecting your insane Catholic mother, or knowing that Joel is undressing you with his eyes—but you can’t help yourself feeding into his fantasy.

“Daddy?” Your father hums, not entirely bothered by the fact that you’ve just interrupted his conversation. He smiles. “Do you want another beer?”

“Please, hon.” He hands you his empty bottle, mumbling something about how he was going to get himself one and that you don’t need to. But you insist.

The blanket over your thighs is being discarded, hiking your dress up with it. Joel gets a glimpse of your lace panties that he likes to imagine you wore just for him, and shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

Bare, supple skin is on display as you get up from the deck chair. You turn to him with a prurient twinkle in your eye, and ask if he wants a drink too. “Yeah, another won’t hurt. I’m already pretty—“ he hiccups, “pretty far gone, anyway.”

Dad laughs while you saunter to the cooler and make a big show of bending over, completely unaware of the way Joel is trying to conjure up a plan to get you alone tonight. But then…

“Same ‘ere, bud.” He laughs before he’s nodding toward Joel. “Stay the night, if ‘ya wanna. I mean, you’re in no fit state to drive—none of us are—and I got a spare bedroom.”

His nose scrunches up, as if to decline, before you’re turning around with two unopened beers and a small bottle of wine. Your hand wraps around the neck almost romantically, leaving very little to his imagination.

“Yeah, you might as well stay, Miller.” You put down the beers on the table, still holding firmly the Merlot. “I’m stayin’. I got nowhere to be in the mornin’, and dad bought breakfast stuff.”

Two brown eyes are latched to each of yours, and you feel beads of perspiration roll through the valley of your breasts. Despite the evening cooling down, you’re stifling beneath his unyielding gaze.

“Alright, I’ll stay.” Joel concedes. He takes his can and cracks it open, lifting it up to cheers your father. “S’long as you’re makin’ me breakfast, Gary.”

Dad salutes and you smile, sinking into the purple cushion with a satisfied hum. You ogle Joel, biting fiercely the skin of your bottom lip. And it doesn’t go unnoticed.

Joel swigs his beer—letting your dad drunkenly ramble—and doesn’t take his eyes off of you. Wondering how he’s going to make you pay for torturing him like this.

But this hadn��t been your intention when Joel showed up to watch the Cowboys v Browns game this afternoon. In fact, him staying past nine o’clock was completely unintentional and if it weren’t for your dad pumping him full of Coors and Old Milwaukee, he’d be fast asleep at this very moment.

He supposes that he doesn’t mind, being here. Especially because he’s buzzed—still able to speak and think coherently, which is surprising—and gets to spend some rare time with you. Even if it is with your dad.

You watch them converse—the way that friends do—admiring how patient Joel is with him despite him being a little bit too inebriated for his own good. He’s the kind of friend that your old man needs; understanding, forbearing. And it baffles you that they’ve not known one another for longer than seven years, but surmise that they’d definitely be best friends in every other timeline because they just work so well.

But it’s the thought of them being friends—brothers—that urges feelings of unease. Trepidation. Gary’ll have a cow if he finds out the way that his so called buddy has been making googly eyes at his little girl’s titties for the last eight hours.

Joel senses the shift in attitude—you’re not teasing him now—and turns the topic of conversation to you. Dad doesn’t mind, though. Never minds talking to—or about—his kid.

“What made you stay in with us oldies tonight, huh?”

Wine is being swiveled around the glass before you take it back in one swig. A grimace flits over your features, but they both catch it.

“Didn’t feel like hittin’ the bars.” Candidly, you say. It’s refreshing. “Can’t be dealin’ with pervy old men tryna touch me.”

Less refreshing.

He just nods instead of saying anything.

“I’ll kill anyone that touches you.” Dad says, not sensing Joel’s sudden frigid state. “Seriously. ‘Specially if it’s an old fuckin’ degenerate asshole—“

“Alright, Gary.” You halt the hate train, pouring the last few dregs of wine into your glass. “No need to get all protective. No old coot is comin’ anywhere near me.”

You look directly at Joel when you say; “old men can’t do what guys my age can, anyway.”

Dad grimaces. Joel scoffs. You can’t help smiling, feeling very proud of yourself.

“Y’know, you’re still my kid? And hearing this shit is nasty.” Your father tells you around a burp, and realizes that this might be the time to call it a night.

He’s never been able to handle his alcohol, especially after being married to your psychotic beer-loathing, hymn-signing, prayer-group-leading, holier-than-though moronic fucking mother.

He lets himself get too drunk too fast, now. Ever since she went back to Kansas—which was totally code for I fucked the priest and got extradited from the church—he’s really let his hair down, and you’d be lying if you said this version of your old man wasn’t the very best. Because he’s living his life the way that he wants to, now.

It’s nice.

“It might be nasty, but ‘least you don’t have to worry about me bringing home a man your age. Or even worse; older.”

Gary gets to his feet—knees clicking and cracking as he does so—and nods. “‘Spose that’s true, kid.”

Joel. Is. So. Fucking. Pissed.

As you say your goodnights—and put on a few lights so that your dad doesn’t trip over his own feet—Joel is mentally counting down the minutes until he gets you alone on this damn patio. He’s determined to make you regret the few little comments that you’ve made tonight.

“Don’t stay up too late. Y’know how cranky ‘ya get with no sleep.” Dad reminds you. “You too, Miller.”

You hum your response, lifting your empty glass and indicating that you’ll be retiring to your room soon, too.

“Night dad.”

“Night, pumpkin.” He turns to Joel. “Make sure she ain’t up too late.”

He nods and shifts his gaze to you, eyes darkening. “Yessir. I’ll put her to sleep.”

Your father grunts and slides the patio door to close. Leaving his daughter and best friend alone together might be the biggest mistake that he’s ever going to make.

Joel watches him intently behind the glass door, heeding him stumble across the tile. He might be about to rearrange your guts, but he at least wants to be courteous.

Your legs squeeze together, for the only sound you hear is the reverberation of Joel’s I’ll put her to sleep in that sexy, beer-slick tone.

He sees it.

“She makin’ ‘ya squirm?”

You blink at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“Your pussy.” Joel—as candid as ever—elaborates. “Is she flutterin’ ‘cus ‘a me?”

The fallout of a chemical bomb would be much more appealing than having to look Joel in the eye after such a lewd statement.

“Don’t worry if so. I have that effect on the ladies.”

“Makin’ yourself sound like a slut, Miller.” Coolly, you respond. Your hand is reaching for a can of beer, twining fingertips around the base while another pulls the tab.

Two eyes screw shut when a spritz of alcohol is flushing over your face, neck and chest. Droplets of Bud trickle between those perfect tits that Joel’s eyes have almost burned fucking holes into; forcing even the horniest man on planet earth to render himself utterly speechless.

You trail a finger through the valley of your breasts, collecting the sticky liquid before you’re putting it straight into your mouth; sucking it clean. Your eyes are locked on Joel’s.

“What? Cat got your tongue?”

Slowly, he shakes his head. The sight before him is truly one to behold; his friend’s sweet daughter with her fingers between her tits out in the patio. Nobody’d ever believe him if he told them this. Joel probably wouldn’t even fucking believe himself.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t ’ya?” Is what he says in response. He’s quick witted, you’ll give him that. “My tongue stuck in your pretty little pussy—“

Heat flashes over you.

“You’re fucking vile.”

“Ain’t that the way it’s meant’a be?” He lurches forward, and your eyes travel to the small opening of his shirt’s midsection that highlights perfectly the fact that he hasn’t a base layer beneath the flannel.

You see a small patch of hair; brown, and gray and seems a little fuzzy. It’s a sudden reminder that this man is a smidge too old for you. But you can’t find it in yourself to care very much.

“Don’t think so.” Trying to out-douche him, you respond. Joel’s thick fingers are twined together, hands resting over the peaks of his knees. “Think youre meant’a have some kinda respect for me. Y’know, as my dad’s buddy, ‘n all.”

Joel snorts a laugh.

“I’d have respect for ‘ya, but the way that peachy fuckin’ ass was in the air when ‘ya bent over the cooler tells me that daddy’s ’lil girl is more of a slut than me.”

Your jaw rolls. Reaction: gauged.

He inches nearer to you; slimy grin plastered across rough, rugged features. “Only pullin’ your leg, hon. I know you’re no slut. Too much of a prissy bitch—“

“Oh, really?” Irked, you spit.

Joel nods. Pushing at your buttons has never been much of a difficult feat. It’s something that he quite enjoys, actually.

“Mhm, yeah.” The man is leaning backwards in his chair, now. Arms folded behind his head; hands pressed against his dark curls. “Gonna have to prove that you ain’t like your mama.”

Your blood boils. And then it runs cold.

“Don’t gotta prove shit to you.” You defend. Very defensively.

“No, that’s right. Don’t gotta do nothin’, kiddo.”

You see the outline of his dick as it stiffens within the confines of his dark, navy-denim jeans. He’s actually getting off on this.

“Unless you want to—“

If you’re playing the long game, then so is he. He can out-stubborn anybody.

“So I’ve heard.” He jabs, insinuating that you’re a prude. Again. “Can prove ‘em all wrong, if ‘ya wanna.”

It’s killing him, this. It’s torture. But he’s strong. Ish.

You shake your head, reaching for your almost-empty can of beer. You’re taking another long pull, making a dramatic show of tilting your head back and puffing out your chest as you do so. His lips purse.

“I’m good.” You tell him again with a syrupy smile. “Rather we just talk. Y’know—be civilized, ‘n all.”

His arms are moving to the sides of his deck chair, now. Joel’s tongue runs along his bottom lip. He gives a quick bob of his head.

“Yeah, we can talk.” His eyes zone in on your pussy; the engorged wet patch situated on the part of fabric that kind-of clothes your cunt. His mouth waters. “But what’ll we talk about, baby girl?”

Another surge of pleasure oozes out from between your thighs, turning what was once a purple thong into a jet-black one. Joel doesn’t mind, though. The sight is sweet; it’s prurient, in some sick way.

“Hm.” You pretend to think, all the while spreading your legs a little bit more. He sees perfectly the outline of your folds as fabric hugs and highlights the inner workings of your beautiful anatomy. “Why don’t we start with what you’re thinkin’ about, Mr. Miller?”

“Oh, doll. Not sure you’ll wanna hear what I’m thinkin’ of.” His tone is rough, now. Like 180 grit sandpaper against the wooden walls inside of your fucking brain. You hum.

In his head, he’s picturing your crucifix dangling in his face while you’re pleasuring yourself on his length; glistening with sweat, and cum, and Sierra Nevada. Howling at his girth, speechless at the size of him.

He wants nothing more than to wrap a hand around the base of your throat and fuck you into next week; feeling damp walls contract and seize around his cock—

“No.” You snap him back to reality; halting his train of thought. “No, you can tell me. I’m a big girl, I can take it.”

Oh, I’m fuckin’ sure she can.

“Fine.” He clears his throat. “Just thinkin’ of stufin’ that warm ‘lil cunt with my big ‘ol cock, ‘s’all.”

“Oh, is that all?” Your tone is teasing.

Joel does not like to be teased.

“If you’d shut your fuckin’ mouth, I’d be able to finish.”

In a moment of pure, unapologetic submission, you nod. The skin of your bottom lip is getting fucking gnawed at by your teeth in an attempt to conceal a moan.

It works. Kind of.

“What was I sayin’…” He strives to recall his last few words; and then he remembers. “Oh, yeah. Stretchin’ out that cute pussy ‘a yours.”

That cute pussy ‘a yours, is twitching. Fuck that, it’s pulsating.

“And you’re so sure of that? You being able to stretch me out, I mean.”

“Dead sure, angel face.” He quips. “I know for a damn fact that you’d be havin’ trouble takin’ my fat cock all in one go; be cryin’ for everyone to hear.”

Through long, thick lashes, you stare at him.

“You’d be seein’ stars; and not just the ones above us right now.”

You look up to the sky and hope to alleviate some of the mental pain being bestowed upon you right now. Which is entirely your own doing, of course.

Joel shifts in his seat so that he’s a little bit more sunken, able to heed clearly the sickly sweetness blanketing the chair you’re on.

“I’ll eat your pussy, too.”

Your attention is snapped back down to Joel, now. Your brows raise.

“Suck your soul right out from between your legs.”

“Oh, Joel.” You moan, a little. He lets his eyes shut for a brief moment, only to open them again to find you taking off your panties.

It’s like Christmas fucking day, this.

“I’d love for you to take me right here; fill me up on one ‘a the sunloungers.” You’re getting off your chair, and Joel’s heart is starting to pound within the chasms of his chest.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

You’re walking toward him; thong in hand. Fingers wreathed through soaked purple cotton.

“Can’t think of anything that’ll bring me more pleasure than you fuckin’ me ‘til I’m crying. Or gasping for air.”

“You ‘n me both, beautiful.”

You smile. You give Joel your underwear, before you’re running your fingers through his hair and he’s letting a hand glide up the meat of your thigh and beneath your skirt.

“Just a shame, ain’t it.”

“What’s a shame, sugar?”

The feeling of his fingertips—calloused and covered in rough skin—is almost orgasmic. But you’re stronger than what he is. So you pull yourself away from his hold, and begin to feel an unwavering sense of need. You shirk it, though.

You’re leaning into him now, breasts pressed against his shoulder, lips touching the shell of his ear. Goosebumps prickle over his neck and you assume that they’re making their way down south, too.

“Huh?” He says to get your attention, for you still haven’t answered. “What’s a shame?”

Fingertips trace over broad shoulders enveloped in soft, warm flannel. You’re leaning closer; hot breath on his skin. Your lips part to whisper:

“If daddy ever found out about this, he’d kill ‘ya.”

“Baby—“

You’re taking the panties from his hand, and tucking them into the breast pocket of his shirt. Fighting a blush—feeling very proud of yourself—your face remains straight.

You tap at his chest and walk away, but not before throwing a “night, Miller” over your shoulder.

Joel looks down at the ground, presently wallowing in some sort of self-pity. But then remembers the visible effect that his words had—and the way he looked at—you, and he can’t fight the stupid fucking grin pushing its way onto his face.

He might’ve just experienced blue-balls at his big age, but to see you submit to his gaze was absolutely worth it.

He just hopes you’ll never tell a soul about his dirty-talk. He has a reputation to uphold, these days.

#read list #fic rec #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut

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