#i asked him if it's still ok for me to message him and he said 'ofc' | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

witchywithwhiskey · 3 months ago

Text

another man’s marks

pairing: toxic!bucky barnes x toxic!female reader

summary: you're texting with your situationship when he asks for a nude photo—but you're covered in marks left by another man. wanting to see what he'll do, you send a photo of yourself, and you're rewarded with a very torturous and enjoyable reaction.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), established situationship, smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering (f receiving), masturbation (m), come play, bdsm elements, a lot of biting and marking, orgasm delay, choking, some breath play, some pain play, some dacryphilia, dirty talk, daddy kink, praise kink, degradation kink, pet names (baby), begging, teasing, some aftercare, taking and sending nude photos, possessive behavior, toxic behavior, jealousy, referenced but not shown situationship between reader and john walker, very anti-john walker behavior

word count: 7.3k

a/n: so this post came across my dash and i had the thought 'ok but what if you sent a situationship a picture covered in another man's marks?' and i started thinking about how toxic situationship bucky might react and then i wrote the first draft of this fic very quickly 🤭 i actually really love toxic bucky but i'm a little nervous to share this because i just want you all to love him as much as i do 🥺 (and, actually, he's not as toxic as i originally intended but y'know what, that's ok i think). i hope y'all enjoy ♡

you ain't my boyfriend and i ain't your girlfriend series masterlist

Let me see your tits, baby.

The text message drew a huff of noise from you, one that was half laugh, half scoff. You were laying in bed, already wearing your pajamas—an oversized tee and panties—and catching up with your situationship, Bucky Barnes, before you went to sleep.

His request wasn’t entirely out of the blue. After asking how your day was, Bucky had started complaining about his day, and you’d known the man long enough to know those kinds of conversations often led to him asking you to send a photo of yourself—though he usually wanted a picture of what panties you were wearing.

Most of the time, you didn’t hesitate to take a picture to send to him. But that time, you paused.

You liked Bucky. You liked talking to him and hearing about his day, and when you were together, you had fun. Plus, you liked sending photos of yourself to him, and you enjoyed the fact that he wanted to see your body when he wasn’t with you. It stroked your ego when he asked for a photo, and he always responded with filthy praise that turned you on.

But that particular night, you had a problem preventing you from simply taking a photo. And, really, the problem was partly to blame on Bucky.

From the beginning, he’d said he didn’t do relationships, he’d told you he wasn’t ready to commit to just one person. He’d been clear and up front about what he wanted, and it was nothing more than a situationship, which was fine with you. You liked him, but you weren’t going to beg for more.

But you’d also decided that if he wasn’t going to commit to you, then you certainly weren’t going to clear out your roster just for him. You weren’t going to be one of those girls sitting at home pining away for some guy. Not even Bucky Barnes.

Which, in a long, winding way, led to your current predicament.

After all, there was a difference between Bucky being vaguely aware you were still hooking up with other guys—since you occasionally referenced your roster—and him seeing the evidence of it. And you had to wonder how he’d react if you took a picture of your tits in the state they were that evening…

It had only been about a day since your last hookup, and your mind wandered to the night before. You’d met up with one of the other guys on your roster, John Walker, and had a decently enjoyable dick appointment. You hadn’t expected Bucky or any of the other men on your roster to ask for pics, so you’d let John do what he wanted to your body.

If there were two things you knew about John Walker, it was that he and Bucky hated each other, and he loved your tits. John loved playing with them, he loved sucking on them, and he loved leaving hickeys all over them. Which he’d done the night before—and then proceeded to give you a not very satisfying orgasm.

Sure, it’d done the trick in the moment, but not even 24 hours later, you were already restless again, your body needing a proper release, which you knew Bucky could give you. But you weren’t planning to see Bucky for at least a couple days, not until the evidence of your hookup with John had faded.

Lifting your shirt, you looked at John’s handiwork. Your tits were dotted all over with at least a dozen tiny little love bites, and your body warmed as you remembered the knife-edged pleasure that came along with each little mark. They were so recent, the bruises were still reddish, not having yet fully faded to a dark purple.

As you looked at them, you had a devious thought—what would Bucky do if he saw John’s marks on your body? Would he blow you off, stop talking to you, maybe even ghost you? Or would he need to see you so badly that he’d come over to your apartment? Would he fuck you and give you the release you needed?

Thinking through your options, you knew it would be the kind, respectful thing to send Bucky an older photo, one of your tits when they were entirely unblemished. You had plenty of photos like that on your phone—and Bucky probably wouldn’t even notice if you sent him the same photo twice.

Or… You could send Bucky a photo of your tits covered in another man’s hickeys. You could, if he asked, tell him exactly who had given you all those hickeys. And then, you could see what Bucky would do about it.

A wicked smile crept across your face as you came to a decision.

Lifting your shirt again, you arched your body toward the light in your room, making sure the marks were clearly visible on your skin, then you snapped a photo of your tits. Before you could talk yourself out of the idea that was probably toxic and definitely a little mean, you sent the photo to Bucky.

His reply was almost instantaneous.

Who the fuck did that to you.

You bit back your mischievous giggle, even if you were alone in your room and there was no one to hear the evil way you wanted to cackle at Bucky’s response. Excited thrills raced through your veins, warmth blooming between your thighs at the anger laced in his text message.

You knew you’d be pushing him further toward anger by answering his question—you knew how much Bucky and John hated each other—but he’d asked. And besides, you were hoping he’d take out all that anger on your body in the most delicious of ways. So you sent a simple response.

John Walker.

You waited for Bucky’s response.

And waited.

But as the minutes ticked by and Bucky didn’t text back, your heart sank more and more, and the delighted smile on your face flattened into a frown. You began to think Bucky might actually be ghosting you.

For only a moment, you let yourself feel disappointed at the way your phone didn’t light up with another text from your situationship, but you wouldn’t allow yourself to be sad over a man like Bucky Barnes. Even if he fucked you way better than John Walker or any of the other guys on your roster. Even if you liked him more than any of the other guys you’d been with.

Hauling yourself up from your bed, you went through your nighttime routine, brushing your teeth and washing your face while listening to music. It wasn’t until you were about to slip into bed and go to sleep that your phone buzzed with a new text message.

Your heart lept into your throat when you saw it was Bucky and you scrambled to read his response, eager to know what had taken him so long. Your breath caught in your throat and excitement buzzed wildly through your veins when you saw what he’d written.

I’m outside. Open your door.

A shiver of anticipation zipped down your spine as you bounded out of bed, an ecstatic grin spreading across your face at the realization that you’d got what you wanted—Bucky was at your apartment. And he was going to do something about the photo you’d sent him.

It took all your self control not to run to your apartment door and fling it open excitedly to greet Bucky. Instead, you forced yourself to take your sweet time padding to the door, your movements deliberately lazy as you unlocked it and swung it open.

Bucky Barnes loomed on the other side, his head hanging between stiff arms, his hands braced on either edge of the frame like he was holding himself back from kicking down your door. His broad shoulders were bunched up, his short, brown hair messy like he’d been running his hands through it. His chest was heaving as he breathed harshly.

When he lifted his head, the stubborn possessiveness in his darkened blue eyes slashed right through to your heart. He’d never looked at you that way before, and you had the terrible, fleeting thought that you could get used to being the only girl Bucky looked at so possessively.

For a moment, the two of you just stared at each other. Then, Bucky stalked forward, crowding you into your apartment and gathering you up in his strong arms while he kicked the door shut behind him. It closed with a rough slam that had your pulse skittering in your veins, your heart already pounding in your chest as Bucky crushed you in his arms.

His gaze held yours and there was something about the emotions swirling his eyes, a mixture of uncompromising possessiveness and lustful determination, that felt dangerous. Not to your body, but to your heart.

“You got a lotta nerve sending me a picture with another man’s marks on you,” Bucky growled as he walked you backward toward your bedroom, his hands groping your hips and ass like every inch of your body belonged to him. “You weren’t trying to make me jealous, were you, baby?”

His words were a furious hiss that he punctuated by ducking down and snapping his teeth at your plump lower lip, biting you roughly enough to wring a gasp from your lungs. Between your thighs, you could feel your pulse pumping needily, your body aching for so much more of Bucky’s rough treatment even as you forced yourself not to cower and submit like you wanted.

Pushing against Bucky’s shoulders until he leaned back and you could catch his eye, you quirked an eyebrow at him in a dry expression of amusement.

“You’re a big boy, Bucky,” you said, before pausing to run your tongue along your lower lip, feeling the tender spot he’d bitten. Dark satisfaction swirled in your chest, but you made yourself shrug indifferently. “And I’m not your girlfriend—so if you’re jealous, that’s your problem, not mine.”

“You let him mark you,” Bucky snarled, an accusation in his tone as he stared deep into your eyes.

For a moment—just a brief moment—you saw a hurt look in Bucky’s gaze, and it pricked at something deep in your heart. Something you refused to look at or examine, especially not with Bucky standing right in front of you. You didn’t want to think about the fact that Bucky might’ve been hurt by your actions, or that you cared about his feelings enough to want to apologize.

But you supposed you could take pity on him. You’d tormented him enough for one night.

“Yeah,” you said, cocking your head to the side, a sly smirk curving your lips. “And what are you gonna do about it, daddy?” You practically purred the final word, knowing how Bucky would react to it.

Just like that, the hurt vanished from Bucky’s expression and heat sparked in his icy blue eyes, a menacing smile pulling across his face.

“You wanna see what I’m gonna do about it?” he growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. “Oh, baby, you’re not fucking ready for what I’m gonna do to your pretty little slutty body.”

Bucky crowded into you, pushing you backward until your legs hit your bed, and then he was shoving you down to the soft blankets. You crawled backward into the center of the bed while Bucky toed out of his shoes and took off his jacket, leaving him in only a black t-shirt and gray sweatpants.

Once he’d tossed his jacket somewhere in your room, he didn’t waste anymore time, prowling onto the bed and using his hands to push up the hem of your oversized tee. His head fell to your body, his teeth nipping harshly at your soft belly to make you squeal and squirm as he worked his way up. He delivered the same treatment to the curves of your brests and the delicate skin of your collarbone.

When his face finally hovered above yours, his breathing was harsh and his expression was filled with a determination so stubborn, you knew you were going to have a long night while Bucky showed you why you shouldn’t let another man mark your body.

“You’re not leaving this bed until you’ve got so many of my fucking marks on your body that you won’t even think about sending nudes to anyone else,” Bucky growled, tugging off your tee, pushing your legs open so he could settle between them, and descending on your tits.

He found the first of John’s marks and sank his teeth into the skin around it, sucking hard on the already aching bruise. The spot gave a little twinge of pain from Bucky’s rough treatment, but it only mixed deliciously with the pleasure he was dragging from your body, and your fingers threaded into his hair, clinging to him while he sucked on your skin.

Bucky worked the reddish-purple blemish relentlessly with his mouth and teeth until it was bright again, and so much larger than the mark John had left. Then, when he was done, Bucky moved on to the next hickey, scraping his teeth over the bruise and wringing a helpless cry from your lips before he sucked the curve of your tit into his mouth.

It went on like that for you didn’t know how long, Bucky working methodically down and across your chest, sucking and biting every bruise John had left behind on your body until each one was replaced with a new, bigger mark.

If you begged Bucky for more—or tried to push his furious mouth down toward your pussy, which was throbbing almost painfully with need—he’d simply narrow his eyes at you, giving you a look like you’d known exactly what you were getting yourself into when you’d sent that photo to him. Then he’d work his mouth even harder, even more roughly against your body, until you were tossing your head back into your pillows and moaning your pleasure.

By the time he was done, you were nothing more than a whimpering, pleading mess beneath him. Your eyes were filled with tears of desperation, and your inner thighs were sticky with the sheer amount of desire soaking your panties and coating your trembling flesh.

“Daddy, please,” you begged on a sob, shoving at Bucky’s shoulders to get his attention as he roughly kissed a spot in the valley between your tits, licking and sucking a new hickey into your skin.

At the sound of your ragged voice, Bucky lifted his head, but you could already tell by the determined glint in his eye and the stubborn set of his jaw that he wasn’t going to give you what you wanted just yet.

“Hush, baby,” he rasped in a dark, patronizing tone, lowering his mouth back to your chest and sucking on the hickey he’d just left. “Daddy’s just getting started marking your beautiful body with all the pretty little bruises I want.” His voice was a rough growl that reverberated beneath your skin.

Between your thighs, you could feel more of your desire trickling into your panties, which were already soaked all the way through and sticking to your clammy skin. A whine worked its way up your throat and spilled from your lips before you could stop it, your legs squirming around Bucky’s sides, trying to grind your cunt against his body but unable to get the angle right.

While you wriggled frustratedly, Bucky paid you no mind, shifting down your body as he picked a spot for his next mark. When his teeth sank into the soft flesh of your belly, you cried out, arching up off the bed and spreading your thighs wider to make room for Bucky’s broad shoulders.

Your fingers twisted in his soft brown hair, trying to push his head down further, until it was between your thighs, whimpering a soft sob of, “Bucky, please.”

But Bucky was having none of it. Despite your pleading and protests, he took his time, only peeling your panties away from your soppy wet cunt after taking his time leaving a trail of hickeys on your belly.

When he saw how wet you were, Bucky chuckled and murmured, “Such a messy little slut, baby.”

He’d said the words fondly and, if you weren’t mistaken, there was affection in the curve of his smile that had you feeling something you didn’t want to look at too closely. But your treacherous heart beat a little harder all the same.

Then his words sank into your lust-soaked mind and heat bloomed in your face at the gentle degradation. But what little shame you could conjure up only mixed with the burning of your desire as you stared down into Bucky’s darkened eyes, holding his gaze while he took off your panties and tossed them somewhere in your room.

He turned his focus back to the juncture of your thighs, shoving your legs wide open and smirking when you let out a helpless little moan at the feeling of the cool air brushing against your heated, dripping cunt. You were so worked up, you could feel your inner muscles clenching around nothing, needing to be filled with something.

“Your pussy’s winking at me, baby,” Bucky rumbled, laughter in his voice as he spread your pussy open with his fingers. You could feel it, your body winking at the man between your thighs like you were begging him to slide inside you—his fingers or his cock, you didn’t care. “She wants me bad, doesn’t she, baby?”

Bucky’s taunting words had you covering your face and letting out a low, tortured groan even as your hips twitched, your body yearning desperately to be filled, to be fucked. “Bucky,” you whined, drawing out his name pitifully as your hips bucked into his hands, seeking more of his touch.

But Bucky didn’t oblige your body’s request. His hands skimmed away from your pussy and along your thighs to hold you behind your knees, pushing your legs up to your chest so you were bared fully to his heated gaze. When you peeked out from between your fingers, you saw him staring hungrily down at your cunt, but at your movement, his gaze flicked up and caught yours.

“Do ya want me that bad, baby?” Bucky purred, ducking down to nuzzle his scruffy cheek against your inner thigh—so close to where you needed him, but still too far away. On instinct, your hips bucked upward, trying to press your pussy against Bucky’s face, but he held you down, grinning as he went on. “Ya want daddy’s fat cock to pound into your cute little cunt, huh, baby—want it hard and rough so you’ll be feeling me in your pretty pussy for days?”

“Oh god yes—yes, please, Bucky—daddy, please, I need your cock,” you babbled desperately, your hips squirming as you humped the empty air, seeking any part of Bucky that you could grind your aching cunt against. You didn’t care if it was his mouth or his cheek or his shoulder, you needed something.

Instead of giving you that, though, Bucky turned his face and sank his teeth deep into your thigh, hard enough that your pussy pulsed violently and you thought you were going to cum. But you didn’t.

Once the blinding sensation of pain and pleasure passed, you knew you wouldn’t manage to tip over the edge just from Bucky’s teasing. You weren’t going to cum until he finally paid attention to your pussy, and somehow you suspected Bucky knew that.

“Tell me how bad you want me,” he growled, sucking on your skin and beginning to leave a new mark on your inner thigh. His gaze was locked on yours as he stared up your body, past your heaving chest that was already littered with his marks, commanding you with the stubborn, possessive look in his eyes to do as he said.

“Want you so bad, daddy,” you cried, your whole body trembling like a leaf in a bitter autumn wind. Tears of frustration and need were pooling in your eyes again and you knew that if Bucky kept edging you for much longer, they were going to spill down your cheeks. “Want you more than anything—anything—please just fuck me!”

Bucky’s eyes glittered, the possessiveness is his gaze deepening and turning into something feral as he stared up your body. Finally, his mouth pulled away from your quivering thigh—after he placed one last affectionate kiss on the mark he’d left.

“Tell me you want me more than John fucking Walker,” he spit out, shifting his head to your other thigh and sinking his teeth into your soft flesh as he held you pinned to your bed with his thick biceps wrapped around your legs.

Your heart fluttered in your chest and your breath caught in your throat. You hadn’t expected to get such a reaction out of Bucky when you’d sent him that picture of your tits with John’s marks all over them. But you also couldn’t bring yourself to regret it. Not when he was looking at you like you were his while he sucked yet another mark into your skin.

“I want you so much more than him,” you murmured. “I want your marks on me, I want your cock and your cum in me—I want you, Bucky.”

The words tumbled from your lips—the ones Bucky had demanded—and you were more than a little surprised by the vehemence in your voice, and how easy it was to admit you wanted Bucky more than John.

Sure, you’d known he was a better fuck than John, but things with Bucky felt right in a way they didn’t with any of the other men on your roster. Like the two of you fit together somehow.

And that scared you. It scared you enough that you rushed on, forcing yourself to raise an eyebrow at Bucky and muster a dry tone as you asked, “Is that what you wanted to hear?” You could detect the hitch of emotion beneath the taunting tone of your voice, but with any luck, Bucky wouldn’t.

Thankfully, he seemed not to notice, responding to your words by growling into the soft flesh of your thigh, his eyes narrowing into a glare. He gave the hickey he’d sucked into your skin one last pull, then pushed himself up.

Before you could beg again for him to fuck you, Bucky roughly grabbed your hips and flipped you over. His teeth sank so hard into the plush curve of your ass, you screeched into your pillows. There was more pain than pleasure that time, but Bucky knew the edge you liked to walk and he didn’t give you more than you could handle.

As it was, even more wetness flooded between your thighs and you writhed beneath Bucky’s big body, all the small stinging aches of the marks he’d left blending with the pulsing throb of need coursing through your veins. It was enough to break the damn of your tears and you sobbed into your pillows.

“Bucky, please, please, I need your dick,” you cried, straining your neck to look at him over your shoulder.

Bucky’s dark blue eyes were narrowed into slits and when he finally pulled his teeth from your ass, he continued glowering at you, looking grumpy and almost entirely unbothered by your pleas. You knew he wasn’t entirely unaffected, though, because his cock twitched against your thigh when he saw your tear-stained face.

“Tell me you won’t do it again and I might consider giving you some dick,” he growled, holding your gaze as he ducked down to lick and soothe the bite mark he’d left on your asscheek.

“I won’t send you another picture covered in John’s marks, I promise,” you rushed to say, arching your back and whining. Your body was moving on its own, trying to present your pussy to Bucky, but he only scraped his teeth over the mark he’d left in your skin.

“Not good enough,” Bucky grumbled, shifting to your other cheek and sinking his teeth into your ass, giving you another bite mark. When you hissed at the pain, Bucky relented, stroking his tongue over the spot as he sucked on your skin. “No one else gets to mark you but me.”

You had to look away to hide the way your eyes rolled at that demand. Bucky wouldn’t commit to you, but he wanted you to promise you wouldn’t let another man mark you. Fucking men. You glared into your pillows, not saying anything and hoping he’d drop it if you didn’t respond.

He didn’t.

“Say it, baby,” Bucky growled, leaning to the side and slapping your ass. He managed to hit the exact spot he’d bitten, which was tender from his teeth and mouth, making you cry out. “Say I’m the only one allowed to mark you.”

“Men who aren’t my boyfriend don’t get to make demands like that, James,” you snarled, turning to glare at him over your shoulder.

The two of you glared at each other for a long minute. You knew Bucky could be stubborn, but you could be much more stubborn when you wanted to be—and you fucking wanted to right then. If Bucky thought you were going to let him dictate what you could or couldn’t do with other men while he refused to commit, he had another thing coming.

Slowly, Bucky shifted up onto his hands, climbing up your body with the languid movements of a predator until his bigger form covered your smaller one.

Still, you glared at each other.

His hand pushed his sweatpants down until his cock bounced free, the stiff length slapping your ass lightly. His precum immediately started leaking into the valley between your cheeks, and your pussy pulsed in desire.

Still, you glared at each other.

“Say it, or you’re not getting my dick,” Bucky rumbled obstinately, pushing his stiff length between your thighs to drag against your dripping wet slit.

You sucked in a sharp breath and arched your back, giving him more of your pussy to rub against—but that didn’t mean you were going to submit to his ridiculous demand. And he wasn’t going to turn you into a liar.

“Say you’re my boyfriend, or you’re not getting my pussy, daddy,” you retorted, putting as much mocking sarcasm into the nickname as you could manage.

Bucky’s eyes flashed with so much annoyance, you couldn’t help the satisfied smirk that curled your lips, which only made his face contort in even more frustration.

His hand reached between your thighs, pressing his cock deep into your slippery folds until the head caught at your tight hole. But he didn’t push inside. Instead, he let the tip slide through your folds to grind against your clit.

Need and desire pounded an unceasing drumbeat beneath your skin, your hands curling into fists in your blankets as you bit back a desperate moan. But you didn’t let your face go slack with pleasure, you kept right on glaring at Bucky over your shoulder, even as he repeated the motion, teasing your tight little pussy with the head of his big cock.

Finally, something in Bucky snapped and he ducked down, capturing your mouth in a savage kiss, his lips and teeth attacking yours until both of you were breathless with need. You were practically vibrating with it beneath Bucky’s big body, and even his arms were trembling when you blinked your eyes open as he pulled away.

“You’re gonna be the fucking death of me, baby,” Bucky rumbled, his voice so low and gravelly, you felt its deep tenor roll down your spine and settle deliciously in your core. As he spoke, he tilted his hips just the right amount and pushed the head of his cock into your dripping hole, making both of you groan in pleasure.

“Right back at ya, daddy,” you quipped at him, your voice embarrassingly breathless as you clung to the blankets of your bed and arched your spine, pushing back into Bucky as he pressed forward.

It took one long, glorious moment for Bucky to sink the full length of his cock inside your drenched, sopping wet pussy, and you nearly blacked out at how good it felt after so long of his teasing torture.

He was bigger and thicker than any man you’d ever been with—though you’d never in a million years admit that to him—and it was always a little overwhelming when he first slid inside. But you loved it. You loved the way your body stretched to fit him, the way you could feel your pussy wrapped so snugly around his thick length. You loved the way you could feel him throb and twitch inside you, especially when he was close to cumming.

And you could tell by the way his cock was twitching inside your tight hole that he was already close. That was good, because after all his teasing had worked you up, you didn’t think you were going to last long anyway.

Bucky gave you a moment to adjust to his size while he yanked his t-shirt over his head. Then he was pressing his bare chest to your back and pushing you deeper into the soft blankets of your bed until you lay prone beneath his strong body.

Only then did he pull his hips back, making you feel every delicious inch of his thick cock, before slamming inside again. Wrapping his arm underneath your neck, he tucked his bicep beneath your chin and held you pinned to his chest, forcing you to arch your spine more and feel the way his hips clapped against your ass as he pounded into you.

“I’m the only one who can fuck you like this, baby,” Bucky growled in your ear, grinding his cock into the depths of your cunt until you were whimpering beneath him. “You’re daddy’s good little slut, and only daddy can fuck your pussy the way you need it, isn’t that right?”

“Yes—yes, daddy, you fuck me so good,” you cried out, hands scrabbling at the bed sheets for leverage to push back into him.

“Tell me what I want to hear,” he demanded harshly in your ear, the words sinking into the deepest parts of your brain.

A twisted smile curled the corners of your mouth because you knew exactly what Bucky wanted to hear, and you were only too happy to give it to him. It was safer to admit what you were about to admit because it was the heat of the moment, and you hoped Bucky would think you were just saying it to make him happy. Only you could know that you meant every word.

“You fuck me so much better than John, daddy,” you purred, pushing your hips back into Bucky’s thrusts, forcing him deeper into your cunt until you were so full of him, you thought he was imprinting himself on your very being. “Your dick feels so good, so big, daddy—you’re the only man who fucks me so good, Bucky, you’re the best dick I’ve ever had. ”

“Fuck—fuck, baby,” Bucky bit out, his mouth brushing against your cheek, his stubble rasping against your skin and making you shiver. He fucked you harder, faster, rutting into your slick cunt like he was trying to leave another mark inside you. “Rub your clit for me, wanna feel you cum on my fat cock.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. You slid your hand between the blankets and your body, slipping it between your thighs and circling the tight nub of your clit with a viciousness that matched how Bucky was fucking you. Your inner walls clenched down hard on Bucky’s cock, dragging filthy groans from both your mouths as he pushed deeper and began grinding inside you.

“Your pussy feels so fucking good,” he gritted out through clenched teeth. “Never felt anything so tight.” He let out a harsh breath, his forehead falling to your shoulder as he kept up his relentless fucking, pushing you closer and closer to the edge of your release. “Feels like you’re choking my cock, baby—I can’t hold on much longer.”

“Choke me, daddy,” the words tumbled from your lips before you could stop yourself, the deepest recesses of your brain responding to Bucky’s words in a plea for one of your darkest desires.

Bucky’s bicep and forearm squeezed the sides of your neck instantaneously, giving you what you begged for and cutting off some of your air so you were forced to gasp for every little breath. You pussy squeezed tighter around his cock, wringing a rasping chuckle from the depths of his chest.

“You’re such a filthy, depraved little slut, baby,” Bucky murmured teasingly in your ear before nipping the shell with his teeth, dragging a ragged cry from your lips. “Ya like it when daddy chokes you, huh? Bet John fucking Walker doesn’t choke you like this, does he?”

“No,” you gasped, your voice hoarse but genuine as you admitted, “He’d never choke me—he’d never treat me like a slut.”

“That’s fucking right,” Bucky growled, somehow managing to fuck you even harder, his hips snapping into your ass so hard, you could hear the sharp clapping of his skin against yours even over his heavy breaths panting in your ear.

“I’m the only man who can fuck you like you need it—dirty and rough. That’s how you like it, isn’t it, baby—you like being fucked like a slut?”

“Yes, yes, yes, yes,” you chanted, as much in response to Bucky’s debauched question as to the feeling of his cock pounding into your cunt. You were so close—so close you could barely think, but you knew everything Bucky was saying was right. He was the only man who fucked you the way you needed it, and you needed to cum on his cock.

Thankfully, Bucky seemed to want the same thing.

“Cum for me, baby,” he growled in your ear, his hips slamming his cock into your body hard enough to nearly hurt, but the pain-edged pleasure only pushed you closer to your release. “Cum on daddy’s cock while he’s choking your pretty little neck and fucking you like the filthy slut you are.”

Bucky’s words and his cock, and your fingers on your clit, sent you over the edge, your eyes rolling into the back of your head and a ragged scream tearing free from your lips. Pleasure consumed you, body and mind alike, until all you knew was the sensation of ecstasy drowning out everything else.

It went on for one long, endless moment, pleasure pulsing through your being until it finally abated. Then, the world began to reform around you. Slowly, you returned to yourself, Bucky’s cock still driving into you, his thrusts turning wild and desperate as he growled in your ear.

“Fuck, you feel good, baby,” he was rumbling, rutting into you while your pussy squeezed him in a perfect clenching rhythm. “Feels like your cunt’s begging for my cum. Is that it? Ya want my cum that fucking bad, baby?”

“Yesss,” you moaned, your limbs melting beneath him as you savored the feeling of Bucky chasing his release in your body. “Want your cum, daddy, please gimme it,” you whimpered, weakly pushing your hips into his big body in a wordless plea.

Bucky grunted a soft, “Fuck,” and then pressed deep, burying his cock to the hilt in your still pulsing cunt as he came. He let out a long groan, his cock twitching against your inner walls while he emptied his balls into your pussy, the warmth of his cum filling you up.

It felt so good, your lips curled at the edges in a happy smile. Every part of you felt warm and satisfied, and you basked in the unmatched afterglow that came in the wake of getting fucked by Bucky Barnes.

When he was finally spent, Bucky eased his hips back, pulling out of you gently so he didn’t hurt your thoroughly used pussy. You appreciated the effort, even if you did feel a pang in your gut at the loss of him, like your body was mourning his absence.

Bucky rolled off you and flopped onto his back, leaving you limp and sated.

And cold.

The man who’d just fucked you better than anyone else ever had made no move to pull your naked body into his, but that wasn’t surprising. Bucky wasn’t the type to initiate post-sex snuggling, though he didn’t stop you from cuddling into him if you initiated it.

Gathering your strength, you heaved your body toward Bucky, draping yourself on top of him, wrapping an arm over his stomach and hitching your thigh over his hip. Your cooling skin pressed to his heated body as you tucked your face into his neck, cooing happily when his arm curled around your shoulders, holding you against his side.

But a post-sex snuggle wasn’t the only thing you’d been looking for.

Your mouth found the side of Bucky’s neck, your lips working against his skin, kissing and sucking and biting him while he rumbled soft sounds of satisfied pleasure. You didn’t stop until you’d left a hickey, but when you pulled away to get a look at it, you decided it wasn’t enough.

After all, you were literally covered in his marks.

So you went back to work, sucking on the hickey until the bruise was so big, there’d be no hiding it—not unless Bucky suddenly started wearing turtlenecks. Somehow, you knew he wouldn’t. You knew he’d wear your hickey proudly, even if it meant he might not get laid until it faded.

When you were finally satisfied with your work, you brushed one last kiss to the hickey, and settled down at Bucky’s side. Your cheek pressed to his chest and you listened to his heart thumping a steady drumbeat beneath his pecs.

For a moment, you were both quiet, enjoying the feel of each other. Then Bucky fished his phone out of the pocket of his discarded sweatpants, which he’d kicked off at some point. He held the device aloft over the two of you, tilting his head to the side and using the front-facing camera to look at the mark you’d left.

“I guess I deserve this,” he commented, trailing his fingers over the gigantic hickey. There was no anger or annoyance in his tone, though, only amusement. He skimmed his fingers down to your shoulder and gently rearranged your arm until the marks he’d left on the sides of your tits were visible. “Now we’re even.”

A snickering smile curved your mouth and you were about to retort that you weren’t anywhere close to even, but the soft click of Bucky’s phone snapping a photo cut you off.

Reaching up, you tapped the screen to show the picture and you had to admit, it was pretty cute. The hickey on Bucky’s neck was prominent and he wore a cocky grin on his attractive face while you smirked into his chest, his marks dotting your skin even though you weren’t revealing too much of your breasts.

It was the kind of photo you’d consider setting as your phone’s background if Bucky was your boyfriend.

He wasn’t, but that didn’t mean you didn’t still want it.

“Send that to me,” you said, trying to keep your tone light.

But Bucky must’ve heard how much you wanted the picture, because he chuckled evilly, pulling the phone out of your reach. When you lifted your head to glare at him, there was a mischievous glint in his blue eyes.

“If I send this to you, you gotta promise not to let John mark you up again.”

That time, you let him see you roll your eyes while you reminded him, “Only boyfriends get to make demands like that, Bucky.”

Huffing a frustrated sigh and giving you a half-hearted glare, Bucky tapped the screen of his phone a couple times. A second later, your phone buzzed with a text and when you glanced at it, you saw he’d sent you the photo of the two of you.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “I just don’t ever wanna see his fucking marks on your body again.”

You nodded your agreement, saying, “That’s fair.” It was the least you could do, all things considered.

Bucky laughed to himself at your easy agreement, then pushed you onto your back and spread your thighs while he sat up on his knees between your legs. “Now, smile pretty for daddy, baby. I wanna take some photos of all the hard work I did marking you up.”

A pleased grin pulled across your face. As much as you enjoyed taking pictures and sending them to Bucky, you loved it even more when he wanted to take pictures of you himself. So you laid on the bed and let Bucky position you how he wanted so he could take photos of his handiwork.

“You gonna jerk off to these when you get home, daddy?” you taunted, staring up at Bucky and smiling for his camera. “Gonna rub your cock to pictures of your marks all over me?”

Bucky’s eyes flashed and his cock twitched between his thick thighs, making your smirk widen. You knew you were provoking him again, but you couldn’t seem to stop.

“You gonna make yourself cum looking at photos of me covered in your marks, daddy?”

Your teasing comments led to you laying helplessly beneath Bucky, his knees keeping your thighs spread wide so you couldn’t grind against anything while he jerked himself off with his fist. The only thing he allowed you to do was knead and grope your tits, your pleasure mixing with aching pain from the bruises covering your skin.

Bucky came like that, his cum covering your fingers and chest in ropes of his seed, marking you all over again.

He took even more photos of the sight of your hands playing with your cum-covered tits, then fucked your pussy with his fingers, sounding very pleased with himself when he teased you for getting off on him making a mess of your slutty body and pushing his cum deeper inside you.

It was late when Bucky finally left your apartment, and you realized you’d been right. It had been a very long night. But even though you knew you’d only get a couple hours of sleep before work, it had been so worth it to text Bucky that photo of your tits covered in another man’s marks.

Over the next few days, Bucky demanded an endless stream of photos of the bruises he’d left on your tits and ass. He was busy at the office and the two of you couldn’t find time to see each other, but he didn’t want to miss any of the progression of the marks he’d left as the hickeys deepened into a dark plum color on your skin.

It turned you on to send so many photos, to see the constant reminder of the marks he’d left on your body, so you indulged Bucky every time he asked for more photos. It helped that he responded with a mixture of sweet degradation and filthy praise that had your heart beating harder in your chest and wetness gathering between your thighs.

Every night for a week, you got yourself off to the dirty things Bucky texted you, the promises of what he was going to do to your body the next time he saw you. But more than anything else, you kept going back to the possessive text message he’d sent the day after he’d been to your apartment, rubbing your clit to Bucky’s words.

Don’t you dare show John fucking Walker your tits with my marks on them, baby. Those marks on your body are all fucking mine, and they’re only for you and me.

you ain't my boyfriend and i ain't your girlfriend series masterlist

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #toxic bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #sebastian stan #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan characters #witchywithwhiskeywork #you ain't my boyfriend and i ain't your girlfriend series

2K notes · View notes

hoeswater · 4 months ago

Text

the mortifying ordeal of being Jack Seward. God, can you imagine- you get rejected by a girl. Fine. You're a bit emo about it but you're holding up. She accepts a proposal from your close pal. Ok, that stings, but you do love Arthur and at least you have your work to focus on. You get cc'd on a message from your second close pal and it says you WILL be attending a celebratory dinner. Yeah, to celebrate your dream girl saying yes to Close Pal #1. Ok, whatever, you're a man of honor. You go. Girl falls ill. Close Pal #1 says hey man, please go medically examine my fiancee - yeah, the one that rejected you. I know it'll be weird but I insist. Please man, you're my Close Pal. Ok. Fine. This girl is still important to you. You do it. You're sitting by said Ill Girl's bedside, trying not to think about that embarrassing time when you sat on your hat, asked her out, and then got rejected, and then her MOTHER walks in and goes wow, dude, why don't you have a wife yet? You and the girl Do Not Look at Each Other Dear God Lucy Do Not Make Eye Contact With Me Right Now I Swear to God. Girl gets sicker. You phone a friend. Your friend comes and promptly breaks the ice with your Mortally Ill Dream Girl (who rejected you after watching you sit on your hat) by being like Well, You Know Jack. He Doesn't Know Anything about Women. Probably Why He Sat on His Hat and then You Rejected Him. Christ. Mortally Ill Dream Girl dies and you find yourself enmeshed in Horrors Beyond Your Comprehension and you think, well, ok, at least if I'm focused on the Horrors Beyond My Comprehension I won't be thinking about my tragic and thus far very embarrassing love story. Let me just focus on picking up this nice lady from the train station because she and her husband have some important information for us. And then the FIRST THING OUT OF THE NICE LADY'S MOUTH is Oh Yeah I Know You Lucy Told Me How You Sat on Your Hat and Then She Rejected You. Ohhhhhhh my god

#i just think that the difference between Quincey's experience of getting rejected by Lucy and Jack's is hysterical #Quincey is like damn ok best of luck ily!! godspeed!! have fun with Art!!#and he remains mostly unbothered by it for the rest of the book but Jack??#everyone in the book is conspiring to make the process of getting rejected by Lucy AS embarrassing as possible for jack #dracula #dracula daily #re dracula #jack seward

1K notes · View notes

sturncrazy · 1 year ago

Text

New Camera 🔥

Matt Sturniolo x y/n (fem)

warnings: SMUUUUUTTT NSFW 18+ (umm lots. use of camera/recording, dom matt, degrading, slapping, language, daddy kink, slight choking, unprotected, creampie, j very rough)

authors note: so this won the vote for which y’all wanted first! ask and u shall receive! this one is FILTHY AND KINKY so if that’s not ur vibe, uve been warned…also side note, i feel like this goes without saying but, i write mostly unprotected… guys pls don’t actually do that. wrap it before u tap it🫶 ok luv u!! enjoy!!

summary: your boyfriend matt gets a new camera before going on tour and decides to experiment with it on you…

word count: 2,270 w

~you look good on camera baby let’s go make a film~

—————————————————————————

your phone buzzed on your desk.

“be over in 10 babe ❤️” read a message from matt. you went back to fixing your makeup in the mirror, wanting to look your best for your boyfriends last night home. Matt was about to leave to go on tour tomorrow and it would be a month and a half before you got to see him again. even though you were excited for him, you wanted to make sure it was extra hard for him to leave you. after swiping on some lip gloss, you rummaged through your closet and landed on a thin white tank and flannel shorts. comfy, but still cute and showed just the right amount of skin to hopefully get his attention. your doorbell rang and you ran to answer it.

“hi, beautiful” matt said, pulling you in for a kiss.

“hi” you said smiling at him, the chill from outside hitting your mostly bare skin. he closed the door and walked in. his eyes gave you a once over as he took off his coat.

“you look hot” he smirked

“oh yeah?” you replied coyly, turning to head back down the hall.

“yeah. some shorts” he chuckled out, blatantly checking out your ass.

“what these?” you teased, bending over slightly

“don’t start with me, y/n” matt came up behind you and slapped your ass, playfully but hard. the two of you walked to your room and you flopped on your bed, reaching for the remote to your tv. matt followed and unzipped his backpack, rummaging through it and pulling out a box.

“whatcha got there?”

“bought a new vlog camera for tour!” he answered, excitedly

“wanna see?” he sat down next to you, showing off the new device.

“oooo fancy” you knew nothing about cameras, but pretended to be impressed since matt was so enthusiastic. his fingers whizzed around the buttons.

“it’s got awesome quality and it’s so easy to use” he continued, the machine chirped as he hit the red button and pointed it at your face.

“matttt” you whined, covering your face with your hands.

“what are you being camera shy?” he snickered, standing above you continuing to point the lens at you.

“cmon show me that gorgeous face of yours baby” you huffed, dramatically and lowered your hands looking up at him.

“that’s my pretty girl” he cooed, making a smile toy at the corners of your mouth. you could never say no to him. his eyes flicked over you behind the camera and you tried to read what he was thinking. he licked his lips and backed up, silently, getting a wider view of you in frame. you stayed put on the bed.

“take your top off” he stated, flatly.

“matt-what—?” you nervously laughed out

“did i say it was a question? take your top off” something about the harshness of his tone was so out of character it made your heart race. you reached for the hem of your tank and began to lift it.

“damn, baby” matt growled out, lowering the camera to capture your exposed tits. you breathed heavily, unable to bring yourself to move from your perched position on the edge of your bed. your eyes followed as his hands lowered the camera even further to where you had your hands in your lap.

“now your shorts”

“but—matt—im not wearing any underwear” you stuttered.

“and?”

“well you’re filming i mean i—“

“if you’re gonna be a little slut and not wear your panties then i get to treat you like a little slut. strip.” he interrupted, gruffly. you couldn’t help but notice how insanely hot he sounded being so demanding, and hoped he wouldn’t be able to see your already obvious wetness. you reached for your waistband, standing, never taking your eyes off him as you began to lower your shorts to the floor. you stepped out of them and kicked them aside. nervousness spread goosebumps across your skin as you became aware of how completely exposed you were to matt and his camera. this was unlike anything you’d ever done before.

“good girl” matt praised, dryly.

“you wanna give me a better view of that pretty little ass of yours and bend over the bed for me?” you felt as vulnerable to matt’s commands as the machine in his hands. you slowly turned half way and rested your hands on your bed, lifting your ass into better view for him.

“fuck” he exhaled. you could feel him move closer behind you. he brought a hand sharply down against your flesh. you whimpered.

“so sexy” he growled.

“got me so hard just looking at you baby” you turned your head back to look at him. he laughed, sinisterly.

“what? you wanna see what you’re doing to me, slut? huh?”

you nodded, dumbly. he snickered again.

“course you do. get on your knees for me.” he demanded. you followed every order like a well trained dog. you settled down by his feet and looked back up at him, as he readjusted the lens again.

“mmmm you look so perfect from this angle, babygirl” he praised stroking your face gently, before slapping his hand against your cheek just enough to sting a bit. your jaw dropped slightly in surprise, which matt took as an opportunity to slid his thumb into your mouth. you sucked at his digit and he groaned, watching you before sliding it back out of your mouth creating a popping sound.

“take off my pants” he commanded. you eagerly fumbled with his belt and zipper, hooking your fingers around the waste and and pulling slowly. his already rock hard dick sprung out and slapped his t shirt. your mouth almost watered in desperation at the sight of his veiny, practically throbbing, member.

“open your mouth, baby” he exhaled. you looked up into the camera, doe eyed and parted your lips with your tongue out slightly. he pumped himself with his free hand, the tip of his dick just grazing your lips and tongue and then began to slowly insert himself into your warm wet mouth. he ran his hand down your head, petting your hair, soothingly, as you took him all the way down the back of your throat. fighting the urge to gag at his size.

“such a good girl” matt groaned. his pets reached the base of your skull, then latched harshly into your hair. his grip was tight, as he began to thrust into your mouth. you felt tears form at the corner of your eyes as he forcefully fucked your throat. matt let his grasp on your hair go and slid himself out of your mouth. he grabbed your jaw and forced you to turn your messy face to him, getting a clear shot of the streaks of tears on your cheeks and spit running down your chin.

“get on your hands and knees. i need to feel that pretty little pussy of yours” he huffed, patting your face again. you scrambled to the bed, desperate to feel him fill you up. you’d never felt so much heat screaming from between your legs in your life. you arched your back, letting matt have perfect access to your dripping folds. matt dragged a finger down them, teasing you and eliciting a loud whine from your lips.

“soaking for me already huh, slut?” he mocked. all you could do in response was whimper.

“so pathetic for me” he taunted, pressing two fingers against your entrance.

“matt—please—“ you breathed out in agony

“camera can’t hear you, baby. be a good little slut and beg louder for me.”

“Matt—fuck—-please—i need your dick now—“ you cried out, the need for contact almost eating away at your brain. you screamed as matt rammed into you, entirely, and without warning. the unprepared sensation of stretch caused a pleasurable pain to radiant through you. he groaned, finally feeling your wet pussy around his torturously hard dick. he began to relentlessly pound into you from behind, filling the room with deafening slapping sounds intermixed with your screams and his grunts.

“MATT—“ you cried out, overwhelmed by his intensity, collapsing your face into the pillows beneath you.

“what? ” he wrapped his free hand around a fistful of your hair and yanked your head back up.

“don’t act like you can’t handle my cock now, slut.” he snarled, not letting up on his unwavering rhythm in and out of your core. he slapped your ass again.

“understand?”

“yes matt” you wheezed. he slapped your ass again.

“yes, who?”

“fuckk—yes, daddy” you sobbed out

“good girl” his thrusts hit your g spot each time, making your legs shake and stars form against your tightly squeezed eyelids.

“you wanna show me how much you love my cock, princess?”

“yes, daddy” you hardly could think straight

“bounce that perfect ass on my cock, baby” he said, slowing his thrusts. you obeyed and began to rock your hips back and forth, fucking yourself on his dick.

“good girl. doing such a good job” he sang out, one hand gripping your flesh while the other captured your movement on film. you whimpered again, your hips stuttering.

“you tired, princess?” you nodded and let out another pathetic sound.

“need daddy to take over again?”

“yes—oh fuck—please daddy-“ you managed to mumble out. Matt pulled out of you abruptly, causing you to whine at the loss. you couldn’t move anymore, but the last thing you wanted was for him to stop fucking you. he slapped your ass again

“turn over” he growled

“i wanna see your pretty face when i cum in your pussy” you felt like you could cum from his filthy requests alone. you’d barely even landed on you back before matt slammed back into your throbbing entrance. he struggled to keep his balance momentarily, too desperate to feel you around him again. he kept one hand supporting himself upright and the other still holding the camera, pointed at you as his picked back up his steady thrusts.

“so perfect—look ss-so good—with my cock stuffed inside your little pussy” he huffed out between thrusts

“OH—fuck—yes—your cock feels so good, daddy” you moaned out, helplessly. your eyes rolling back into your head. matt’s free hand wrapped around your throat, constricting your breathing perfectly.

“watch me while i fuck you, slut” he growled.

“yes, daddy” you wheezed out against his tight grip. he removed his hand and you gasped for air. within moments of his dick pounding perfectly back against your sweet spot, you felt your orgasm begin to crest.

“FUCK—IM—“ you panted.

“that’s it—good girl—cum all over daddy’s cock” he ordered. your walls clenched and throbbed around him uncontrollably, causing him to let out a string of curse words. you felt his dick begin to twitch deep inside you.

“ohh-hh-fuck—shit” he stuttered out, his thrusts becoming wilder and less expertise.

“mmm—close—“ he groaned, his jaw dropping slightly.

“mmmm fuck yeah cum inside me, daddy” you whined out, your high still settling.

“shit yeah baby? you want me to fill your little pussy?”

your brows knotted and your nodded your head desperately.

“fuck i’ll fill you up—so full of cum—baby you’ll look—-so perfect—spilling out of you” he huffed

“OH FUCK FUCK BABY IM GONNA CUM” he cried out as his whole body shook. he thrust deep into you one last time, halting as his cock spasmed against your walls. releasing a multitude of spurts of his hot white load. once matt seemed to regain his senses, he clicked the red button again—ending his taping. he pulled out of you slowly, making your legs shake. he glanced down at your trembling sensitive entrance leaking his release in pulses and bit his lip in a satisfied smirk, snapping one last photo of the mess he’d made of you.

“MATT!” you laughed out in embarrassment, shutting your legs and rolling onto your side.

“sorry…i had to. too hot not save” he said, smiling and flopping down next to you.

“are you okay? was that too much?” he asked, pushing your hair out of your face.

“no way. i loved that”

“you swear i wasn’t too rough with you?” he said with worry. you shook your head vigorously

“not at ALL! that was HOT” you replied through a smile. he fought a grin, biting his lip clearly extremely pleased at your enthusiasm.

“so can i ask what inspired the camera?” you questioned.

“well, now on tour i can reminisce what it’s like to fuck my crazy hot girlfriend” he smiled at the ceiling.

“hey!” you slapped his chest playfully “you know you can always facetime me and we cannnnn” you dragged your words out, looking off into the distance above his face in teasing suggestion.

“oh don’t you worry, we’ll have phone sex all the time. this is just for when you can’t call me and i need to…y’know” he glanced down at his crotch.

“jesus, how many times are you planning on jerking off” you teased

“twice a day. minimum.” he matter of factly stated, grinning again.

“MATTHEW!” you scoffed out in shock

“What? not my fault you’re so sexy” he laughed, leaning in to give you a peck on the lips.

“yeah yeah whatever. just NEVER show that to anyone”

“are you kidding me? you think i’d ever let anyone else get a look at you like that? nhhuhh nope.” he shook his head dramatically

“only i get to see how perfect you look getting your brains fucked out” he leaned in, kissing you playfully again. you giggled, feeling a slight blush.

“i love you, you freak” you said against his lips.

“i love you more, baby”

—————————————————————————

ok y’all were on to something with wanting this one cause WHY DO I LOVE IT?? rly hope everyone likes it ahhh 🫶🫶

also guys imagine matt accidentally posting the wrong video and posts ur tape instead of a car video?? HAHA

5K notes · View notes

rafecameronssl4t · 6 months ago

Note

Ok hear me out....

What would happen if Sofia still wanted to try to get with Rafe so she befriends reader in hopes of getting on his good side.

Anyway, I loved Never Say Never!! keep up the AMAZING writing queen!!! Much love!

Who invited you? || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

A/n: love this request!!!

Warnings: swearing, smoking, typical Rafe being Rafe

Word count: 1,947

MASTERLIST

divider by @h-aewo

Sofia’s eyes widened slightly as the taxi pulled up in front of your house on Figure Eight. She double-checked your text message, confirming that this luxurious beachfront home was indeed your address.

Tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, she took a deep breath and made her way to the front door. Her heart pounded as she knocked, the sound echoing in the quiet of the early evening. After a few seconds, the door swung open, revealing a young boy who looked to be a couple of years younger than her.

“Can I help you?” he asked, his eyes curious but friendly. “Hi! I’m here for Y/n’s, uhm—” Sofia began nervously, glancing down at the text message on her phone for reassurance.

“Oh! Yeah, she’s out back on the boat. You’re here pretty early,” he said, cutting her off with a friendly smile. He stepped aside, opening the door wider. “Come on in. I’m Jayden, by the way, Y/n’s brother.”

Jayden extended his hand for a handshake. Sofia hesitated for a moment, a bit taken aback by the formal gesture, but then she smiled and shook his hand warmly.“Nice to meet you, Jayden,” she replied, feeling a bit more at ease.

Jayden led her through the spacious, elegantly decorated interior of the house. Sofia couldn’t help but admire the high ceilings, the tasteful art on the walls, and the overall sense of coastal luxury that pervaded the home. They walked through a large living room with floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a stunning view of the marshland and the sound beyond.

As they stepped outside, the backyard opened up to a beautifully landscaped garden that led to a long dock stretching out over the marsh grass. Sofia’s eyes widened again as she spotted the boat—more of a yacht—docked at the end of the pier.

“They’re just in there,” Jayden said, pointing towards the yacht. His casual tone made it seem like having a yacht was no big deal, but Sofia couldn’t help but be impressed.

“Thank you,” she said, offering him a grateful smile before starting down the dock. Sofia was slightly taken aback when you invited her to your house for a boat trip after only knowing her for a couple of days. She had hoped you might be the typical kook bitch like every other on the island, but you had been so sweet and kind, which made her feel guilty. After all, Sofia’s initial intent was to get to know you only to get closer to Rafe.

Stepping onto the luxurious yacht, she noticed the quietness, save for the soft lapping of the water against the hull. The deck was immaculate, with plush seating and gleaming railings, exuding an air of understated elegance. Sofia took a moment to steady herself, her nerves and guilt mingling.

“Rafe,” you quietly giggle, his lips trailing along your jawline as his hand moves up your thigh, deftly untying your bikini bottom. “Someone could see!” you try to reason, though the way you tilt your head to give him better access contradicts your words.

“Yeah? Like who?” he chuckles, making you playfully roll your eyes. “Oh—” a sudden voice interrupts, making you turn your head toward the sound. Your eyes widen at the sight of Sofia standing there awkwardly. You gently push Rafe off of you, causing him to groan in protest.

“Babe, c’mon—” Rafe’s gaze follows yours and lands on Sofia. He pauses for a moment before he rolls his eyes, reluctantly helping you adjust your bikini bottoms as you quickly stand up and retie them securely. You offer Sofia an awkward smile, noting her eyes darting between you and Rafe.

“Sof, you’re here a bit early,” you chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. Sofia slowly nods, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “Yeah, sorry about that,” she apologizes, shifting uncomfortably. “It’s okay—” you begin, but Rafe cuts you off, his tone sharp and irritated.

“What is she doing here?” he snaps at Sofia, his eyes narrowing. You turn to him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I invited her, Rafe. Do you have a problem with that?” you retort, crossing your arms defiantly. The tension between you is palpable as Rafe rolls his eyes and stands up, grabbing a shirt to put on.

“Whatever,” he mumbles, brushing past you and Sofia. “I’ll be inside,” he calls out over his shoulder before slamming the door behind him with a loud thud.

The silence that follows is heavy and awkward. You take a deep breath, trying to compose yourself, and offer Sofia a more genuine smile. “I’m really sorry about that. Come on, let’s go inside and get a drink or something,” you suggest, hoping to ease the tension. Sofia nods, clearly relieved to move past the uncomfortable moment.

You lead her towards the yacht’s main cabin, the earlier tension slowly dissipating with each step. As you enter, the soft lighting and elegant interior create a warm and inviting atmosphere. You gesture towards the plush seating area and the small, well-stocked bar.

“Make yourself comfortable,” you say, heading to the bar to pour drinks. “What would you like?” “Just water, please,” Sofia replies, her voice still a bit shaky. You hand her a glass of water and take a seat beside her. “I’m really glad you came,” you say sincerely. “I wanted to get to know you better.” Sofia smiles, albeit a bit hesitantly. “Thanks. I appreciate the invite.”

“Of course,” you smile, taking a sip of your drink. A moment of silence follows, filled only by the distant sound of water lapping against the hull. “I’m really sorry for interrupting you and Rafe. I—” Sofia begins, but you shake your head, giving her a reassuring pat on the leg.

“Please, don’t worry about it,” you say, trying to put her at ease. Another awkward silence ensues, your eyes wandering around the luxurious interior for a moment. The elegant furnishings and soft lighting create a serene atmosphere, but the tension lingers.

“Is Rafe okay with me being here?” Sofia questions, glancing down the hallway to where Rafe had disappeared.“I don’t really know what his problem is, to be honest. Do you guys know each other personally?” you ask, tilting your head at her. Sofia quickly swallows her drink and wipes the corners of her mouth.

“No, not really. I just see him often when I’m working,” she replies, nodding. You hum in response, pondering her answer. “So, uh, how long have you and Rafe been together?” Sofia asks, her fingers drumming nervously against the table.

“Three months now, I think? But we’ve known each other since we were in nappies. Our parents are best friends,” you explain, smiling as you swirl the contents of your drink in your glass. “Wow,” Sofia says, clearly surprised. She hadn’t realized you and Rafe had such a long history.

“What about you, Sof? Got anyone special?” you playfully tease, causing her to chuckle. “There’s this guy,” she starts, and your eyes widen with interest. “Tell me more!” you urge, fully turning your body towards her. She chuckles again, a bit more at ease now.

“I’ve liked him for so long. He’s always at the country club, and he’s just so—so gorgeous,” Sofia sighs, resting her chin on her hand as she thinks of Rafe. “But what’s stopping you?” you ask, noticing her eyes dart away. “He’s got a girlfriend,” Sofia says, her tone defeated. Your lips form an ‘o’ of understanding.

“That’s tough,” you sigh, feeling sympathy for her predicament. “Unrequited love is the worst.” Sofia nods, her eyes looking down at her drink. “Yeah, it is. But it’s nice to talk about it, though.”

“I’m glad you feel that way,” you say, giving her a warm smile. “So, this guy,” you say, circling back to the topic. “Does he know how you feel?” Sofia shakes her head. “No, I don’t think so. I’ve never told him. I mean, he’s with someone else, and I don’t want to cause any drama.”

“That’s understandable,” you say thoughtfully. “But sometimes, it’s better to be honest with your feelings. You never know—maybe he feels the same way but doesn’t know how to approach it.” Sofia’s eyes flicker with a mix of hope and uncertainty. “I don’t know. It’s complicated.”

The evening wears on and it was soon time for other people to arrive. You glance at your watch, realizing how much time has passed. “I should probably check on Rafe,” you say, standing up. “Want to come with me?” Sofia hesitates but then nods. “Sure, why not.”

You both head down the hallway towards the cabin where Rafe retreated earlier. As you open the door, you find him lounging on a couch, scrolling through his phone. He looks up, his expression softening when he sees you but hardening slightly at the sight of Sofia.

“Hey, we were just talking and thought we’d check on you,” you say, smiling. Rafe shrugs. “I’m fine. Just needed a breather.” You sit down beside him, and he pulls you close to him while Sofia stands awkwardly by the door. The tension is still there, but you hope that with time, things will become smoother.

“How are you okay with this?” Rafe questions, taking a long drag from his cigarette before exhaling, the smoke dancing around him. You swat the smoke away from your face, trying to avoid its acrid scent.

“What do you mean?” you reply, confusion evident in your tone. Rafe scoffs, shaking his head in frustration. His gaze drifts over to where Sofia is sitting beside Sarah, their laughter and conversation seemingly distant from the tension between you and Rafe. He locks eyes with Sofia for a moment before turning back to you.

“It’s so fuckin’ obvious she likes me, babe,” he says, his eyes now trained on the water, his voice tinged with annoyance. His words catch you off guard, and you’re taken aback slightly.

“What?” you manage to utter, your mind racing to process his statement. “Why else would she wanna be friends with you?” Rafe continues, his tone hurtful and biting. The sting of his comment hits you hard, a mix of shock and pain swirling inside you.

“Rafe, that’s not fair,” you protest, trying to keep your voice steady despite the hurt you feel. “She’s trying to be my friend. Not everything revolves around you.” Rafe scoffs again, the sound dismissive and cold. “You’re too trusting, babe. Can’t you see she’s using you to get to me?”

You shake your head, disbelief mingling with the hurt. “Sofia has been nothing but nice to me. She’s not like that.” Rafe’s eyes finally meet yours, a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze. “You’re too naive. She likes me, and it’s obvious to everyone but you.”

The weight of his words settles heavily on your heart. You glance over at Sofia, who is now looking in your direction, concern etched on her face. The night’s events swirl in your mind, and you can’t help but feel a pang of betrayal, even though you want to believe in Sofia’s sincerity.

“Maybe you’re right,” you say softly, looking down at the deck, unable to meet his gaze. “But I still want to give her a chance.” Rafe exhales sharply, the smoke dissipating into the night air. “Do what you want,” he mutters, standing up and tossing his cigarette into the water. “Just don’t come crying to me when it all falls apart.”

“Rafe,” you softly call out, but he’s already walking away, his back rigid with frustration. Sofia, who had been watching from afar, makes her way towards you. As she passes by Rafe, he grabs her forearm, pulling her close to whisper something in her ear

You watch as Sofia’s face drops, the color draining from her cheeks. Her eyes widen, and she looks almost stricken. Rafe releases her arm and continues on his way, disappearing inside the yacht.

Sofia stands there for a moment, frozen, before she slowly makes her way to you. The concern in her eyes is palpable, and her usual bright demeanor is clouded by whatever Rafe just told her. “Sof, are you okay?” you ask, worry lacing your voice. You gently place a hand on her shoulder, trying to comfort her.

Sofia takes a shaky breath, avoiding your gaze. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she replies, but her voice trembles, betraying her true feelings. “What did he say to you?” you press gently, sensing the weight of whatever Rafe whispered to her.

Sofia hesitates, her eyes darting away. “It’s nothing, really,” she insists, though her tone is unconvincing. “Just… Rafe being Rafe.” You frown, not satisfied with her evasive answer. “Sofia, you can tell me. If Rafe said something to upset you, I need to know.”

She finally meets your eyes, her expression a mix of confusion and hurt. “He told me to stay away from you,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. “He said I’m not welcome here and that I should leave you alone.”

Sofia’s eyes well up with tears, but she quickly blinks them away. “He’s right you know. And I’m so sorry, I’m just gonna go.”

2K notes · View notes

theereina · 1 month ago

Text

Let Me Teach You

Pairing: Toxic Professor!Terry Richmond x Plus Size Fem Black!OC

Wordcount: +7K

Warnings: MDNI (18+) mature content, such as cursing, teasing, heavily dialogue-centered, use of pet names (Daddy, Mama, baby girl, lil' mama, pretty girl, good boy, etc.), P in V, Toxic Dom!Terry *if you squint and turn your head*, breeding kink

A/N¹: This is a single one-shot with no planned sequels.

A/N²: I'm open to critiques. I am a little 🤏🏽 sensitive about my writing. Please, don't be too harsh.🥺 Feel free to bring my attention to any typos. Divider by ME (theereina). Also, this work is not to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than here on Tumblr). I do NOT give consent for any form of republishing or rewriting.

Masterlist: 🔥🔥🔥

ding

Shanice: wya

Me: Heading to the Eng. 2 study session for finals

Shanice: aww, you going to see bae🥰

Me: STFU!

Shanice: why you mad? you know i ain't lying

Me: Go to hell. I ain't got time for this. BYE!

Shanice: oop! k, bye hoe

As I approached the door to the classroom, I saw a sign taped on the glass. There was a message written in red.

Study session moved to the library

Oh, come on! That meant I now had to walk across campus. Reluctantly, I turned on my heels and walked toward the exit at the end of the hallway.

Opening the double doors, the winter breeze whipped me across the face. I knew my face was probably red and puffy. The tip of my nose was left stinging from the wrath of the cold. I was pissed because I had dressed way too lightly for this. I was only wearing a black T-shirt dress, thin black tights that looked like stockings, and a black and white varsity letterman jacket. At least, my furry black boots were doing a hell of a job keeping my feet warm.

10 minutes later

As I walked into the assigned study room, I was confused by it being empty. I took a seat on the third row which was closer to the back of the room.

I always felt more comfortable being as far away from the front as possible. It made it easier to get lost in the sea of students when professors and teachers wanted responses.

Placing my bag on the floor beside me, I begin to unpack my notes and final essay. Leaning over with my head facing the door, I see a pair of feet walk into view. My body tenses up because I know exactly who these brown loafers belong to. I immediately feel my heart rate quicken as I battle to calm the butterflies in my stomach.

“I guess you're the only one concerned with your final grade. I hope they know this is a proctored exam through a lockdown browser,” Professor Richmond said, walking to the front of the room.

“If they don't, they'll find out,” I laughed while sitting up. I slid my jacket off my shoulder and placed it over the back of the seat.

“You know what? I'll give them 15 more minutes, otherwise, I guess it's just you and me,” he said, winking.

I grew immediately hot. I could feel myself blushing. I didn't want him to see my face, so I quickly dropped my head.

“Fine with me,” I mumbled.

“What was that, love?” he asked, turning away from the whiteboard to look at me.

“Oh, um… I said that that was fine with me,” I said louder than before. I still didn't raise my head to look back at him.

“Ok. I hate… never mind. I'll keep my thoughts to myself,” he said, turning to the whiteboard.

“Never mind what? Speak your truth, professor. You hate what?” I asked, flipping through my notes.

“When you don't look at me while speaking. I like to know I have your attention. It lets me know if you're at least engaged,” he said, writing on the board.

“I just have a hard time with eye contact. Too much of it makes me… uncomfortable, I guess. I wish I knew that bothered you sooner,” I said, lifting my head to look at his back.

My eyes locked in on the movement of his back muscles. Through the material of his collared shirt, I could tell this man was sculpted like a God. I dropped my head and pressed my thighs together. I shouldn't be thinking about this man like this, but damn… I had been struggling with this feeling all semester.

“Especially, when it comes to you, it's not often that I meet someone with equally, if not, more striking eyes. Yours are just mesmerizing,” he said. I could hear him exhale with a shudder.

“Uh, professor… Are you okay?” I asked, looking at him.

His movements had paused as if he were lost in thought. I noticed that his grip on the dry-erase marker seemed dangerously tight.

He let out a much calmer breath than the first, “Yes.. yes, I'm fine. What about you?”

“Yes, sir,” I said, questioning if he was telling the truth. His mouth said one thing, but his body told another story.

My thoughts began to roam as I grasped that he called my eyes striking and mesmerizing. I was so used to people calling them beautiful or pretty that I was honestly stumped.

As I waited on his instructions, I lingered on the difference in his word choice. There had to be intention behind those words. You would only use those words if the person affected you, right? So, why would Professor Richmond use those words about me?

“Athena! Athena! Can you hear me?” Professor Richmond called out.

“Yeah. Yeah. I can… Shit,” I said, stopping in my tracks when I realized he was standing in front of me.

His 6’3 frame was probably the most intimidating yet sexy thing ever. His broad posture dominated the space in front of me. His musky cologne smoldering and intense— sandalwood and amber flooded my nostrils. This man's entire being was overwhelming my senses. All while silently drawing me in.

“I called your name a few times. You didn't answer me. You had me scared for a second,” he said, leaning down to look at me.

He leaned over so that his arms were propped on the table. Raising his eyebrows, he was waiting for me to recollect myself.

“You sure you're okay?” he questioned softly.

“Yes, sir. I promise. I was in my head and didn't realize you were that close,” I said, leaning back in the chair. I wanted to create as much space between us as possible.

“I'm sorry if I scared you, hun. That was never my intention. Just wanted to make sure my favorite girl was okay,” he said, placing his hand over his heart.

“I know. I'm fine. Uh…” I said, scanning around the room. I paused as I realized he was doing it again— using questionable words.

“Yeah, no one else showed up. Since it's just you and me, you might as well move closer. There's no reason for you to be way over here,” he said, motioning towards the front.

I nodded my head yes. I leaned down to grab my bag from the floor. Looking up, I see the professor has grabbed my things that were on the table. He walked to the front of the room and placed them on the table in the front row. He positioned me so that I was right in front of him.

Standing up with my bag and jacket, I walked to sit in the seat he chose. I was in no mood to argue or move seats. Hell, I probably couldn't even if I tried.

I quickly sat down and focused on the topics of the upcoming study session. I decided to ask as few questions as possible because I needed to get this over with. The thought of being alone with his fine ass for almost 2 hours… Jesus Devanté Christ help me.

1 hour and 45 minutes later

“So, what do you have planned for the rest of the day? Anything interesting?” he asked while walking behind me.

As we exited the study room, I noticed how empty the library was. As expected, the campus was becoming more and more desolate as the end of the semester drew near.

“No, sir. I'm going to check out a poetry book for a quick read. You know…. Something I can finish before they close the library for the semester,” I said, shrugging my shoulders.

“Hmm… I've noticed that you seem more drawn to poetry. Your poems are honestly some of the most… insightful and beautiful ones I've read from a student in a long time. You should do something with that?” he said, walking alongside me.

“Thank you, but what do you mean by do something?” I asked, stopping to look at him.

“Publish them, Athena. You don't even have to publish all of them as a full body of work. I just want people besides me and your classmates to experience them,” he said earnestly.

I smacked my lips. “Professor Richmond, really? Don't act like you didn't see me sweating like a pig while reading them to the class!” I exclaimed.

“Of course, I did. That's why I… talked you through it,” he said, looking me up and down.

“Talked me through it is an understatement. You practically had to hold my hand each time,” I laughed into my hand.

“Yeah, I definitely had to help you find your big girl voice,” he said, rolling his eyes playfully.

“I know my voice is normally low, but you didn't have to say it like that. That was mean,” I said in a fake pout.

“Aww, I'm sorry. My bad, love. I just know you're capable of so much more than you give yourself credit for. I wish I had more time to pull it out of you,” he said, biting his bottom lip.

I froze as I watched his lip settle between his teeth. My breathing hitched silently. His lips were a blessing to look at— bright pink, plump, and full. The smoothness reminded me of rose petals, intensifying my desire to want to kiss and suck on them. I yearned to know what they felt like against my lips and skin.

Snapping myself out of my lust-induced trance, I brought myself back to our current conversation. This was the first time someone other than Shanice had been so enthusiastic about my writing.

“I don't know. The thought of so many people possibly reading my thoughts scares me. I treat my poetry like diary entries most of the time,” I said, swaying from side to side.

“No pressure. This is your art we're talking about. Just consider it, okay? Actually, there's something I would like you to read if you'd allow me to make a suggestion,” he asked, placing his hand on my shoulder.

“Sure. I trust your judgment,” I replied.

“Ok. Follow me,” he said, placing his hand on my lower back and guiding me through the library.

He guided me towards the section of the library labeled erotica. I was honestly a bit confused. I side-eyed the professor. Why would he bring me here?

“Ok, listen to me. Don't… umm… don't back out on me. If you do feel uncomfortable, you can walk away now,” he said, nodding at me.

“I'm fine,” I said, gesturing towards the shelf.

“That's my girl. I promise that I won't let you down,” he said, smiling as he turned to scour the shelf. I watched in awe as his fingers glided across the spines of the array of books.

Professor Richmond turned to me and handed me a book. It was small but hefty. The edges of the pages weathered from years of use. This was a sign of a well-loved book.

I looked up to find the professor staring at me. His smile was bright and wide enough to reach his eyes as they twinkled in excitement.

“A Woman in the Wild. Hmm…,” I said, turning the book over and reading the back.

From the cover and the synopsis, it was obvious this book was sexual in nature. The cover was extremely sensual yet tasteful. It was more suggestive than direct, depicting a woman holding a peach dripping in honey in front of her lower abdomen.

“It's about a woman's journey of exploring sex in her 20s. I think you'll like it,” he said, holding his hands together.

I giggled at his reaction. He looked like a kid sharing their favorite toy. “Professor Richmond is into raunchy writing, huh?” I giggled.

“Why do you sound surprised?” he questioned before moving closer to me.

“No real reason. Just that—,” I said, stopping myself. I didn't want to make Professor Richmond think I was judging him.

“No, explain. I want to know. What's wrong? You scared of me, Athena?” he questioned, pushing the book downward.

“Of course not!” I responded.

“Then, use your words. I've graded enough of your essays to know you have a helluva way with them, Ms. Athena. Come on. Don't get shy on me,” he said.

“You won't judge me?” I asked sheepishly.

“What're the kids saying, now? Oh, we listen, and we don't judge. Promise,” he said, raising his hands.

“Oh my God! Fine. You just give off nice guy vibes. I can only see you as super sweet and quiet, especially outside of class. You don't seem like the type to really be out there,” I blurted out as fast as I could.

“That's what you think of me?”

“Maybe…”

“Hmm… That's very interesting. What can I do to change that?”

“To be honest, nothing.”

“You know, honestly, I don't like being perceived. It's even worse when it's wrong.”

“Oh, um… I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to offend you, Professor. I just wanted to be honest.”

“Oh, don't be sorry. There's nothing to be sorry for, love. Just be… be… be careful with your cute self.”

“Cute?! Professor, gone somewhere. I'm not finna play with you,” I said, playfully hitting his arm.

“What? Why? You don't think you're cute?” he questioned back.

“First of all, I know I'm cute! The problem isn't what you're saying. It's the fact that YOU'RE saying it.”

“And? So?!” he spat.

“You’re my professor. That's inappropriate, right? Like, can't you get fired for this?”

“Who's going to know? Huh? And, that's funny that me being your professor matters now,” he said, glaring at me.

“Huh?” I asked. My face contorted in confusion. What did he mean by that?

Professor Richmond’s mouth turned upward into a devilish grin.

“Maybe, next time you and Shanice decide to talk about me, you shouldn't do it outside my classroom door. That wasn't very smart. Was it?” he asked, pushing one of my loose strands behind my ear.

“Wait…”

“I think I remember you saying you wanted to know what my hands feel like wrapped around your throat, what my dick looks like when it's hard, what—.”

“Okay! I get it,” I whined. I could feel my face reddening with embarrassment. I dropped my head and began staring at my feet.

“Don't interrupt me because you got caught.”

“Boy, leave me alone!” I said, pushing past the professor. I needed to get away from this man as fast as I could.

He instantly grabs the strap of my bag, pulling me back to him.

“Boy? I'm a grown man. Don't be disrespectful, love. I don't think I deserve that,” he said as a smile began to spread.

“Whatever, professor.”

“I mean, look at how I got you running. You can't wait to get away from me,” he silently laughed.

“Running? From you? Now that's cute!” I scoffed.

“Keep playin’, and I'll show you. Nah… I'll teach you.”

“Teach me then!” I mumbled assertively. “Wait… I… I didn't mean that,” I stuttered, realizing my mistake.

I couldn't comprehend why I was all of a sudden being so bold. This was something I had never done before. Hearing myself speak like this was personally shocking.

“Hahaha, you're scared of me. Just say it,” he said, gesturing for me to walk beside him.

“Scared of what? Professor, you're probably one of the least intimidating people on campus to me. You can't be serious about all of this, right?” I probed, hoping this was all a fever dream or even a joke.

“What? You gone tell that your professor—,” he started to speak.

“Can you not? Jeez, people may hear you,” I whispered.

“Oh, so you ARE scared? Aww, so you definitely wouldn't want people to know that you want to be tied up and spanked while I—,” he began again.

I threw my hand over his mouth and quickly scanned the area around us.

“Hey!” I whisper-yelled. I looked deep into Professor Richmond's eyes, hoping he would catch the hint. I removed my hand from his mouth.

“Yeah, I heard that part, too. You and Shanice can't whisper for shit. You would've been better off just telling me,” he said smugly, shrugging his shoulders.

This side of the professor was an asshole, but… I liked it.

“Ok, so what? I said some nasty shit about you. What're you gonna do about it? Report me or something?” I asked, crossing my arms.

“Nah, I got a better idea. Walk,” he demanded through gritted teeth.

He used his hand on the small of my back to guide me further into the back of the library. I couldn't believe I was letting this happen. With HIM of all people!

Once we were in a dimly lit corner, he stopped me. He stood in front of me, leaning over. “Before I touch you, I want to know that you are okay with this. There's no pressure. You can stop me at any moment, and you can leave. No hard feelings,” he said, stroking my cheek.

“I'm okay. Just a little nervous,” I mumbled as my mind began to race with a million thoughts.

The thought of being caught was my main concern. I knew this part of the library was never used or even looked at because it was where old and abandoned textbooks went to die. There were rows and rows of books before anyone would even come close to us.

“Good. I'm warning you now that I can be a tad bit aggressive,” he said, standing to his full height.

“That's fine. I like aggressive,” I said, resting my hand on his chest.

He dropped his brown leather satchel behind him. “Yeah, I figured. Turn around for me and hand me your bag,” he demanded. His voice had dropped a few octaves and was now a low rumble.

I could feel it as the sound of his voice traveled from my ears straight down to my pussy. I just knew that my leggings were ruined. I had lost all control over this situation. My brain had turned off, and my pussy had turned on.

“I want to hear you say it. Tell me what you want me to do,” he said, leaning into my ear.

The heat from his breath warmed the sides of my neck. Thinking and forming sentences were damn near impossible.

I closed my eyes and drew in a sharp breath as my nervousness took over. I knew myself too well. When I'm nervous, I become a stuttering mess.

“Hey, we talked about this. Whenever you're too nervous to speak, you close your eyes and take a deep breath. You repeat it until you’re calm enough to start, right? Because we don't rush our words out, do we?” he said, softening his tone.

His hands slid across the sides of my hips.

“Right, we don't rush. Ok, I got this,” I whispered while taking deep breaths.

“Of course you do, love. Ease into it, and take your time. I really wanna hear it from you,” he said, firmly holding my waist.

“I… umm… I want you to—,” I stuttered as I stumbled on every word.

“Think about what you want to say first. Then, slowly talk me through it. I wanna know every little detail. Do you understand?” he asked.

“Ye—. Whew. Yes, sir. I… I understand,” I replied.

“Good girl. All I want you to do is focus on telling me all your little fantasies. I don't care about how nasty or how dark they are. Say it. And, one more rule— pretend like I'm not here. Okay?” he asserted.

“Yes, sir,” I whimpered with shaky hands.

“Calm down your mind first, and your body will follow. Isn't that what I taught you?” he whispered into my ear.

I could feel him take a step back as his hands slid from around my waist. Thank God! His hands being on me was making me overwhelmingly anxious.

I shook my body as much as possible, trying to release the nerves. I focused on clearing my mind of all the negative thoughts that were coming up— this was inappropriate, he was going to laugh, and I was making a fool of myself.

I wanted to glance back at him for reassurance, but I knew he hated it when we looked at him during our oral presentations.

I inhaled a deep breath and relaxed my shoulders on the exhale. I was going to do this.

I WAS GOING TO MAKE SURE I MADE PROFESSOR RICHMOND PROUD.

“Okay….” I said slowly and evenly.

“If you are ready, proceed. Make sure your posture is engaged and your voice is both loud and direct. Got it?” he asked as his voice rumbled from a few feet behind me.

I nodded my head yes and began speaking. “I want you to choke me while playing in my pussy. I want to feel the full wrath of your hands until you leave your mark on my ass and thighs. I wanna know what your dick feels like in my hands. I wanna know what it feels like if I lick it with my tongue. I want to use my mouth to drain you until there's nothing left,” I said slowly as I vocalized all of my dirtiest thoughts.

“Ughh… Fuck, baby girl. That it?” he asked as his voice shook.

“No! I want you to fuck me until my walls remember the shape. I want you to fuck me like my body was made with only you in mind. I want to turn my brain off, and let myself just… just let you take control. I desire to please you with every part of me. I want to make you moan over and over again so that it'll be the only sound in my mind for weeks. And, when we're done, the thought of touching myself is ruined by my body remembering the way your hands felt.”

“Enough!” he grunted.

It was clear that what I said had affected the professor tremendously. Every breath he took came from his chest like thunder. He was struggling.

“Professor?” I asked, attempting to turn around.

“Call me Terry!” he grumbled.

He grabbed my shoulders to prevent me from doing so. I took that as a sign to remain still as I waited for him to say or do something. The silence was driving me insane.

Terry abruptly pulled me back into him. His chest collided with my back. I let out a loud gasp. Terry's hand flew over my mouth.

“Don't! I'll give you everything you want as long as you stay quiet. Got it, love?” he asked as his hand slowly fell from my mouth.

I shook my head yes.

“Good girl. Now, all you gotta do is focus on staying quiet and enjoying yourself. Take off your tights and hand me your panties,” he said.

“What panties?” I asked smugly.

“No panties, huh?” he laughed menacingly. I could tell he was shocked.

“None. I promise,” I said, raising my hand. I laughed at his reaction.

“Oh, I gotta see this for myself!” he said, sliding his hands around my waist.

They slowly dropped to my pussy. Using his knee, he pushed my legs open. His fingers slid over the crotch of my tights and rested between my legs. When his hands stopped moving, I knew exactly what he found— a wet and sticky mess.

My inner thighs and pussy were becoming warmer by the second. I could feel myself becoming fidgety. This man was making an absolute mess of me.

“Oh, that's nice. I hope you don't like these tights,” he whispered as he used his fingers to rip open the middle seam.

I gasped again before catching myself. I brought my hand over my mouth.

“Unless you want me to stop—,” he started.

“Mmm mmm!” I mumbled, shaking my head.

His hand rubbed up and down the slit of my pussy. Dipping his fingers between my lips, he wiggled them back and forth in the sticky mess. He slowly pulled his fingers out and brought them to my mouth. With no hesitation, I parted my lips and stuck out my tongue. I was more than ready to lick my cum off his fingers.

Before I could react, he drew his hand back and brought it to his mouth. “Mine,” he grumbled in my ear. His tongue flicked between his fingers as he cleaned them. I watched him in a blissful combination of shock and lust.

“As much as I want to finish you here, I want all of you. Having you in this library isn't enough for me. I want to hear you moan and scream. I want to hear you say my name while you struggle. I need more, Athena. Where's your phone?” he asked, leaning over my shoulder as his chin nuzzled into my neck.

“In my pocket,” I whimpered.

Terry reached around the sides of my letterman jacket, searching each pocket. He pulled out my phone and took a step back.

After a minute or so, he walked in front of me. Glaring down at me for a second, he slowly closed his eyes. He was just as overcome with lust as I was. His eyes were practically slits, and it appeared that he was possibly biting the inside of his cheek.

“Here. You now have my personal number, and I have yours. I will text you with instructions on where to meet me. One question before we go our separate ways. Do you feel comfortable coming to my home, or would you rather meet somewhere else?” he asked, handing me my phone back.

I grabbed it and placed it back into my pocket.

“Your place,” I answered while rocking back and forth.

“Hmmm. Ok, you sure about that?” he asked.

“Yes. It's less likely that we'll be spotted, right? Plus, it's where you'll be most comfortable,” I said, staring him down.

“Oh, you're a big girl, huh? If you knew what was best for you, you wouldn't keep staring at me like that. I'll happily say fuck this job and fuck you right here,” he said, licking his lips.

I watched his tongue closely. Between his words and his tongue, I was losing my fucking mind. I began to think of all the nasty things he could use that tongue for.

“Hey, you gotta stop. I'm struggling just as much as you are, mama. We gotta at least leave this library in decent condition,” he laughed.

I wanted to yell out fuck being decent, but I knew he wouldn't like that very much.

“Ok. Sorry,” I said, snapping out of it.

“It's alright. Just go straight to your dorm and get cleaned up. Also,…” he said, stepping closer. “Don't touch yourself,” he said, tilting my head to look at him.

“Yes, sir,” I said.

“Good girl, and don't make me come find you,” he drawled, winking at me.

We said our goodbyes and went our separate ways. Terry suggested that I leave the library first.

I left and walked to my dorm room in absolute silence. I gripped the strap of my bag for dear life. My emotions were in a whirlwind. I didn't know how to feel about what just happened.

I wanted Professor Richmond in the worst way. I had never had a man make me melt in his hands.

How the fuck was I going to make it through the night? Granted, I wasn't a virgin, but I was definitely nowhere near Terry's level of experience.

Unfortunately for me, this was the first time in my life that my mouth had written a check that my ass couldn't cash.

Later That Night ~ After 9 pm

ding

Terry: Hi, I was just letting you know to wear something cozy.

Me: Hmmm… That's not what I was thinking.

Terry: ???

Me: I had something else in mind.

Terry: 1 attachment

Me: How's that?

Terry: Oh, that's better than I had in mind. TBH, I didn't know you had it in you. Maybe, my good girl isn't so good after all.😈

Me: Wow! You know, I don't like being perceived. It's even worse when it's wrong.🤭

Terry: Not you using my words against me.

Me: I was trying to remember where I had heard that before.😏

Terry: Sassy much?

Me: 😂🤭

Terry: Wear whatever you like, love. It's not like you're going to keep it on anyway.

Me: Well, then… Maybe, I'll just wear nothing.

Terry: You're not going to like the outcome of that. TRUST ME! So, behave.

Terry: Also, I hope you followed my rule.

Me: I did.🙄

Terry: You know you have to see me soon, right? So, all this sass and attitude will be addressed, love.

Me: What're you going to do about it?

Terry: See you soon.😈👿

Later That Night at Terry's Townhouse

As soon as I entered, all it took was a single look for me to know I was in for a wild night. We didn't even make it to the bedroom because Terry had other plans. He wasn't joking when he said my attitude would be “addressed”.

Now, here I was on my knees in front of Terry as he stood in the middle of his living room. We didn't even make it farther than 10 feet into the room before Terry started his attitude adjustment.

With a mouthful of dick, I was struggling to answer his questions. Between my saliva and his precum, the mess inside my mouth was becoming hard to contain. As spit bubbles formed and poured from the sides of my lips, I focused on not choking on the sloppy mess building in my throat.

“I wish you knew how pretty you looked right now,” Terry said, fisting the hair at the back of my head.

I mumbled out a weak thank you.

“Don't talk while your mouth's full. That's rude. Just nod your head, love. There you go. That's my pretty girl.”

“So, are you done having an attitude, yet?”

I eagerly nodded my head yes, tugging lightly on the handcuffs behind my back.

“I don't know. I'm not really convinced. Hmmm… Open,” he demanded, grabbing both sides of my face.

I opened my mouth and pulled back. My breathing was erratic and sharp as I gasped for air. I had been sitting on my knees with Terry's dick in my mouth for at least 10 minutes— no sucking, no licking, no moving. Just sitting there… All the while, he stood there talking his shit.

A trail of my saliva and his precum hung from my lips, dripping onto my chest. It only added to the preexisting mess on my face, neck, and chest.

“Eyes!” he barked, causing me to look up at him. “Next time, are we gonna behave?”

I nodded my head yes.

“Speak. I need to hear you say it.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, pleading with my eyes.

“That's my girl. That's all I wanted. Clear understanding, baby. Now, come here.”

Terry leaned down and carefully lifted me to my feet. My knees were sore and wobbly upon standing.

“I promise to be nicer for the rest of the night,” he said, walking around me.

He unlocked the handcuffs and removed them gently. Tossing them on the couch, he walked to stand in front of me again. He lightly grabbed each of my wrists and massaged them.

“Too much?”

“No,” I giggled.

“Hmm…,” he scoffed. “Lesson learned, huh?”

“Yes, sir. But, a reminder every once in a while won't hurt.”

“Don't tempt me, love,” he said, pulling me by my waist.

“My bad.”

“Why are you so bold all of a sudden? Where was this energy in class?”

“Well… No one else is around. The only person I have to worry about is you.”

“I guess. Make yourself comfortable. I'll be right back.”

Terry turned to walk away from me and disappeared down the hall.

I sat on the couch, flexing my wrists. As I waited, I glanced around the room. His home was spotless. He was clearly a man who believed in minimalism.

I turned my body to face the mirror. I laughed at my reflection. I was still covered in the mess we made. My chest and lower face were shiny and slightly slimy.

As I touched the puddle on my chest, I could hear Terry returning.

“A towel,” he said as he rounded the back of the couch.

“Thank you. I need it,” I said, reaching for the towel.

“I gotchu, baby. I did make the mess.”

Terry planted himself in front of me and stood between my legs. With one hand on my left cheek, he used the other to gently tilt my head to look at him. As he cleaned off my face and chest, the warmth of the soft plush fabric felt so much better than the cold slimy mess that once was.

“Better?” he asked, looking me in the eyes.

“Yes. Much better,” I smiled back.

“Would you like something to drink or eat? I have wine if you'd like some.”

“No, thank you. Plus, I don't drink.”

“Really? That's… uh… surprising, I guess. It's not something you hear often. Any particular reason?”

“Never wanted to, so I just never started.”

“That's definitely something to be proud of.”

I shrugged my shoulders.

Terry squatted in front of me, placing his hands on my knees. “So, I'll leave it up to you, Athena. How do you want this to go? We can sit here for a while or we can—,” he started.

I interrupted him with tenacity. “Fuck me already!” I yelled.

I can tell that Terry was shocked by my statement, but I was sick of waiting. This man had no idea of how many nights I dreamed of this happening, how many times I fingered myself wishing it were him, or how many times I yearned to touch some part of him.

“That's all I needed to hear,” Terry said, standing.

Without another word, he lifted me onto his shoulder. My hands flailed around in horror. I was instantly afraid that he would drop me.

“Don't worry, baby. This isn't my first time. Relax, I gotchu.” He laughed.

20 LONG Minutes Later

“Oh, Terry. Please!” I moaned, pushing at his chest.

Terry's hands grabbed mine and held them against my stomach. I was losing my damn mind in this bed. Now, I was second-guessing if I should've even tried to take the dick.

“Please…just… fuck… I can't!” I yelled.

Terry's hips slowed down again.

“Mmm,” Terry moaned clearly enjoying himself.

“Ahhh, fuck. This feels… it feels…,” I stuttered.

Wrapping his arms around my thighs, he pulled me closer. As if his dick wasn't deep enough, this made it feel deeper.

“Yes, you can. I know you can handle it,” Terry groaned.

I was fighting the urge to disassociate. I was fully prepared for this man to fuck me up and put me through the mattress, but this… THIS!!! I was not. I wasn't being fucked at all. I was being loved on and taken care of.

“Baby girl, stay with me. We talked about this, love. I wanna see those pretty eyes,” Terry said, reaching for my face. His hand cupped the underside of my chin.

I tried my hardest to look at Terry, but I was also I was fighting to stay present. Every fiber of my being was feeling overwhelmed and overstimulated.

“Athena! Look at me, NOW!” Terry ordered.

Listening like a lost child, my eyes opened to find Terry's. His glare was piercing into me— soul-deep. I let out a deep breath, hoping and praying that I didn't pass out.

“That's it, baby. Stay with me. Eyes on me,” he grumbled as his head dropped to watch his dick slide in and out of my pussy.

“Terry! I have… I have… to… unh… pee…,” I stammered, stumbling over every word.

Terry's eyes met mine. His face was overcome with lust. The gaze this man possessed sent chills down my spine. His eyes were low and dark, glazing over more and more by the second.

His thrusts quickened with fervor. Leaning over me, he began to speak again.

“That's not pee, baby. Don't worry. Imma talk you through it like I always do. Okay, mama?”

“Shit! What… I need… but…,” I attempted to respond.

“Don't talk just listen. Relax your abdomen, mama. There you go,” he said, kissing my neck. Stop tensing up. Uhh uhh, don't think about it. You let me worry about all of that.”

His hands wrapped around the back of my knees, pushing them back. I swear I heard my knees pop in my ear from this position.

“Fuck you,” I said absentmindedly.

“That's not nice, but since you asked for it…,” Terry's smile turned into a devilish grin. His hips snapped against my ass, and the force caused the headboard to bang against the wall.

If I didn't know it then, I sure as hell knew it now. THIS MAN WAS ABOUT TO GIVE ME HELL!

“Wait!” I yelled, trying to get out of his grasp.

“No, ma'am. We don't run in this house. Take this shit.”

Pushing up on his legs, I felt like this man was trying to actually fuck me into the mattress. Tears began to fall from the corners of my eyes. If I had just kept my mouth shut, I wouldn't be in this position.

I closed my eyes, trying to just take it. The pressure I felt before was 100x worse now.

“Open your damn eyes! Right now, Athena.”

“I ca—,” I started.

“Nah, you gone show me how good this pussy is, or you ain't cumming at all.”

“Aww, fuck… please… do something,” I begged. I felt like I was about to piss all over this man.

“Okay,” Terry practically laughed as he leaned down, licking the tears falling down my face.

His hand reached over me to grab the top of the headboard. Using it as leverage, Terry used every inch of his dick to punish me. As if I wasn't struggling enough, I had to survive a new level of demon dick Terry. I knew that after this; I would have my wish. My pussy would definitely be molded to only fit him.

“Look at you. That's right, baby. Now, let it go!” Terry moaned loudly.

He used his free hand to press against my abdomen. This singular move was the catalyst for the start of the flood between my legs.

“Oouu… look at you. Stay just like that,” he mumbled through gritted teeth.

His head fell back on his shoulders as he continued to pound into me. It was becoming more apparent that Terry was losing it as his hand slipped from the top of the headboard.

Shifting quickly, he placed one hand by my ear and braced himself on top of me. His head fell forward, and his mouth dropped open. His eyes locked onto mine. I was still too fucked out to speak.

“It's coming, baby. Fuck! This… ahh, fuck.”

“Shh… It's yours. Let it out,” I said, wrapping my legs around Terry's waist. I brought my hands around his back, holding him in place.

I was about to indulge in my little breeding kink fantasy. If he was going to cum, it was going to be IN ME!

“Mama, that's not… uhh, fuck!” Terry groaned as his eyes snapped shut.

I knew what was coming. I felt the warmth of his cum coat the inside of my pussy. Like a switch went off, I released a second orgasm. Terry's breathing became erratic and choppy as his eyes reopened to look at me.

“Shit, that's a dangerous game you playing’, lil girl!” Terry exclaimed, leaning up.

He let my legs fall as he pushed my thighs open.

“Damn!” he said, watching his cum drip from my pussy.

Terry tilted his head so that it was directly over my pussy. His mouth opened slowly. I watched as he let a thick trail of saliva fall straight into the mess between my legs.

“Huh, ahh. Terry!” I said, watching him in shock and lust.

“Yeah, I'm… I'm not done,” Terry said, pushing himself back inside.

All I could do was moan out in pleasure. I grabbed Terry, pulling him back in and forcing him to go deeper. If this is what he wanted, fuck it!

Let's be honest, the nasty freak in me liked this shit. It wasn't like I wanted him to stop anyway.

Taglist: @episodes-ff @babybratzmaraj @persethegawd @pocketsizedpanther @kimuzostar @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @megamindsecretlair @mymindisneverhere @writingsbytee @brattyfics @avoidthings @keyaho @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @onherereading @nayaesworld @phuckyoreblogs @venusincleo @1darknymph @insertcatchynamerighthere @honeytoffee @mitruscity @ladypegusus-blog @lettersofgold @jimmybutlrr @5headsupremacist @blowmymbackout @insidefeelingofanadult @kirayuki22 @ariiijestertheklown @nayaxwrites @miyuhpapayuh @gg-trini @vivaalenaa @slutsareteacherstoo @blackerthings @androgynousgaz @becauseimswagman1 @gwenda-fav @poektiou624 @sageispunk @charismablu @4ftwonder @4pfsukuna @pinkpantheris @talkswithdesi @dxddykenn @simplyzeeka @theglamclosetsl @melaninadorned @peachbuttetfly

714 notes · View notes

joelsrose · 19 days ago

Note

i’d absolutely love to see your take on a jackson era *SPOILER* (not dead obviously) joel who meets a new comer who’s harsher and more close off than him and only wants to use him for sex and he ends up falling first??🙏🏼🫶🏻 i adore your writing and also can’t wait for more TIP, G&R, and FD 🫶🏻🫶🏻

ok this prompt seriously did something for me and i went feral - enjoy (warnings smut/feelings - both equally as dangerous) thank you so much for your request ! i need the inspo sometimes so feel free to message me in my inbox with more requests xx

also update tangled in paradise hppefully out in the next DAY

all my work (though this needs updating)

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

The lukewarm air clung to your skin as you sat at the bar in the Tipsy Bison, a glass in hand, the bitter burn of the whiskey still fresh on your tongue. It was a disgusting kind of heat, the kind that stuck to you and made you wish for a shower—or another drink. It was late, later than you usually stayed out, and the bar was sparsely populated, just a few regulars nursing their usuals in the dim light.

You flagged down the bartender, your fingers drumming lightly against the counter. "Another," you said, meeting their eye. They nodded, reaching for the bottle.

Your gaze drifted as you waited, lazily scanning the room. That’s when you saw him.

A man sat at the far end of the bar, hunched over a glass of whiskey, his posture heavy. He looked older, maybe early fifties, his face etched with lines that spoke of a hard life, not just years. His dark hair was streaked with silver, the strands curling slightly at the ends, and a thick, scruffy beard framed a scowl that seemed permanently etched into his features. His eyes were sharp, though, hidden beneath furrowed brows as he stared at the bottle behind the bar like it held all the answers.

Your brow arched in curiosity. You didn’t recognize him exactly, but he looked familiar—someone you’d seen in passing. Without overthinking it, you slid off your stool and moved down the bar, settling yourself in the seat next to his. He didn’t look at you, didn’t even acknowledge your presence. But that didn’t stop you from giving him a once-over, shamelessly.

“Can I help you?” he asked, his voice low and gruff, still not turning to meet your gaze.

You chuckled, leaning back slightly. “Do I know you?” you asked, tilting your head.

“Doubt it,” he sighed.

“Oh,” you said, letting the word hang in the air. “You’re Tommy’s brother, right?”

He sighed again, the kind of exhale that sounded more like an admission. “That’s me.”

You smirked, lifting the fresh shot the bartender had set down in front of you. “Hotter than your brother, though,” you said before downing it in one smooth motion, the whiskey burning all the way down.

That got his attention. His head turned, and he finally looked at you—dark eyes narrowing slightly, lips parting as if to say something but stopping short. He looked genuinely taken aback, like no one had ever said something like that to him before. “The fuck are you talkin’ about?” he asked, his tone more stunned than angry.

You shrugged, giving him an unabashed once-over again. “I’m just sayin’. You’re good-looking,” you repeated, meeting his gaze directly.

He scoffed, a rough sound that came from deep in his chest. “Look, lady,” he said, shaking his head, “I’m way past relationships, so I suggest you just walk away.”

“Who said anything about relationships?” you replied, your tone light and teasing.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

The room was bathed in the dim glow of a bedside lamp, shadows dancing against the walls as the dresser rattled softly with the force of his movements. Joel had you pinned there, caged in by his arms, his chest pressed against your back as if daring you to pull away—not that you wanted to. His breath was hot against your ear, low grunts and growls spilling out as he moved with deliberate, unrelenting intensity.

Your clothes were still on, mostly. His jeans were tugged down just enough, your own pulled halfway down your thighs, bunched awkwardly as you clutched the edge of the dresser, trying to anchor yourself against the tidal wave building inside you.

“Joel,” you gasped, your head falling back against his shoulder as your grip tightened on the wood. “I’m—God, I’m gonna—”

“Fuckin’ take it,” he growled, his voice thick and ragged, one hand gripping your hip so tightly you were sure it’d leave marks. “You’re right there. C’mon.”

The sensation overwhelmed you, and with a strangled cry, your body broke apart. “Joel!” you screamed, your nails raking against his forearm as you bucked beneath him, the dresser creaking in protest.

Joel groaned deeply, pulling out just in time, his breath heavy and labored. He finished on his hand with a grunt, his forehead dropping briefly to your shoulder as he let out a long sigh, the tension draining from his body.

You both stood there for a moment, chests heaving, the room filled with nothing but the sound of your breathing and the faint rustle of clothing as he stepped back, adjusting himself.

“Damn,” he muttered, his voice still rough as he wiped his hand clean with a nearby rag, tossing it aside like it meant nothing, “You all right?”

You leaned against the dresser, still catching your breath, your legs shaking slightly as you straightened up and fixed your clothes. “I think so,” you said with a wry chuckle, running a hand through your hair. “Well… that escalated.”

Joel just shrugged, his eyes sweeping over you before he grabbed his belt, threading it back through the loops with practiced ease. “Yeah, well,” he said gruffly, his tone casual, though there was a flicker of something deeper in his gaze. “Guess we’re doin’ this now.”

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

It had been a few months now, and the routine had settled into something both comfortable and volatile. It was almost always the same—you’d show up at Joel’s door late at night, the moon high and the town quiet. He’d answer in a wrinkled shirt and tousled hair, his face carved with irritation that didn’t quite mask the way his gaze swept over your form.

“Seriously?” he’d mutter as you stepped past him, already kicking off your boots and shimmying out of your jeans in the doorway.

“You’re too horny for your own good,” he’d grumble, his brow furrowing in that way that somehow made him look even more rugged.

“No rest for the wicked,” you’d shoot back with a sly grin, already dashing upstairs, leaving him standing there shaking his head and muttering under his breath.

Joel always followed, though. No matter how much he sighed or rolled his eyes, he’d climb the stairs after you, his heavy footfalls a sound you’d grown to expect. By the time he found you, sprawled out and ready, he was already hard, already resigned to the fact that you weren’t going to leave him in peace.

It wasn’t soft, not with Joel. It was rough hands, bitten-off curses, and bruising grips that left reminders on your skin. You’d both cum, panting and wrecked, and then you’d slip out of his bed and pull your clothes back on like it was nothing.

At first, you’d knock when you came over, but after too many nights of him stumbling half-asleep to the door, he’d shoved a key into your hand. “Sick of you bangin’ on my door at all hours,” he’d grunted, and you’d just laughed, pocketing it without a second thought.

It worked for you—this arrangement. Whenever the day had been too hard, when your fingers weren’t cutting it and the frustration bubbled over, Joel was there. He was steady, dependable in his own gruff way. But there were rules, even if they weren’t spoken out loud. You never kissed. It just wasn’t part of the deal.

Instead, you’d press your lips to his collarbone, to the patch of skin where his pulse thrummed, tasting salt and sweat. He didn’t complain, but he didn’t ask for more, either. Maybe that’s why it worked—you didn’t ask for more, either.

Tonight had been no different. Joel had pulled you apart, his hands gripping your thighs as he thrust into you, his breath hot against your neck as you came for the second time. You were still catching your breath when you rolled off him, reaching for your shirt and pulling it over your head.

“It’s cold,” he muttered, his voice low and gravelly as he sat up. “You could just ... spend the night.”

The words were casual, thrown out like they didn’t mean anything. But they did. Joel didn’t offer people to stay. Joel didn’t let people in. And yet, here he was, offering you the kind of closeness he didn’t give anyone else.

“Nah,” you said breezily, oblivious to the weight of what he’d just said. You zipped up your jeans, running a hand through your hair as you glanced at him. “Got patrol early. You know how it is.”

Joel nodded stiffly, his face giving nothing away, though his eyes lingered on you as you grabbed your jacket. “Yeah,” he said, the word rough and clipped. “Sure.”

You slung your bag over your shoulder, giving him a small smile. “Anyway,” you said, already moving toward the door, “see you when I see you.”

He swallowed hard as he watched you leave, the door clicking shut behind you. For a long moment, he sat there, staring at the empty space you’d left behind. Joel didn’t have the words to explain it, not even to himself. He didn’t want to need this, didn’t want to need you. But he did.

And as much as he hated to admit it, he hated even more that he wished you’d stayed.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

The kitchen was dim, the faint hum of the fridge the only sound besides your heavy breathing and the occasional low groan from Joel as he worked between your thighs.

You were spread out on the countertop, your patrol gear still half on, boots kicked off somewhere by the door. The ache from hours on horseback had burned away, replaced with a sharper, hotter need that only Joel could satisfy.

You’d barely stumbled in, desperate, and Joel had opened the door with a gruff sigh, already knowing what you wanted before you even spoke. "Needy as hell," he muttered, but his hands had been on you in seconds, pulling you inside, settling you on the counter like it was second nature.

And now? Now, his tongue moved against you with an unrelenting, agonizing precision. You moaned, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling just enough to make him grunt in response. His beard scraped deliciously against your thighs, grounding you in the moment as the coil in your belly tightened with every flick of his tongue.

"Fuck, Joel," you groaned, your voice rough and breathless as he dragged another moan from you. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place like you might dare to squirm away. This wasn’t like usual. Normally, Joel was fast, efficient—out and over. He didn’t linger. But tonight? Tonight, he was taking his damn time, his lips and tongue teasing you, coaxing you closer and closer to the edge until you thought you might lose your mind.

“Yeah, darlin’?” he hummed against your core, his voice low and gravelly, the vibration making you arch off the countertop. He looked up briefly, his dark eyes hooded, lips slick and glistening as he smirked. “What’s that? You need somethin’?”

“Joel,” you gasped, your head falling back as his tongue flicked over your clit again, slow and deliberate. Your chest heaved as your nails dug into his scalp, desperate for something to hold onto. “I—shit—I’ve got a shift in ten minutes.”

“Then you’d better hurry up,” he rasped against you, his breath warm against your sensitive skin. But he didn’t hurry. No, if anything, he slowed down, his tongue tracing deliberate, lazy circles that made your breath hitch and your thighs tremble.

“You’re—” you gasped, biting down on your lip as he sucked gently on your clit, “you’re taking too long.”

Joel chuckled low in his throat, the sound dark and teasing as he kissed along the inside of your thigh, his stubble scratching against the tender skin. “Ain’t my fault you came in here all wound up,” he said, his tone gruff but laced with something softer, something dangerous that he wasn’t saying. “Maybe you should learn some patience.”

“Patience?” you nearly whined, your voice cracking as his tongue returned to your clit, working you over with a precision that made your toes curl. “Oh, fuck, Joel—”

He didn’t respond this time, just groaned softly against you, his grip tightening on your hips as he brought you to the brink. You shattered with a loud cry, your thighs trembling around his head as waves of pleasure crashed over you, leaving you breathless and boneless on the countertop.

Joel pulled back slowly, his lips glistening as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes locked on yours. “There,” he muttered, his voice low and rough, like gravel underfoot. “That’s better.”

You were still catching your breath, your chest rising and falling as you pulled your pants up. “You’re impossible,” you muttered, though there was no heat in your words.

Joel just smirked, stepping back to let you slide off the counter. “Better get goin’, then,” he said, his voice casual, but his eyes lingered on you like he didn’t want you to leave.

And as you grabbed your boots and headed out the door, Joel stood there in the kitchen, his hands braced on the counter where you’d been moments ago, hating the way he already missed you.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Joel’s birthdays weren’t something he talked about. Hell, you were pretty sure he hated the day entirely. No celebrations, no well wishes—just another date on the calendar he could ignore. But when you knocked on his door that afternoon, a half-smushed cupcake clutched in your hand, you decided you didn’t care much for his rules.

You knocked again, shifting on your feet. The air was cool, a sharp contrast to the warmth you’d stolen earlier in the kitchen as you snuck eggs to make the damn thing. It wasn’t pretty, but it was something.

Finally, the door creaked open, revealing Joel in his usual worn flannel and jeans. His brows lifted slightly when he saw you, the corners of his mouth twitching in what almost passed for a smile. “Hey,” he said, stepping back to let you in. “Come on in.”

You slid past him, your boots clunking softly against the wood floor as he shut the door behind you. His place was as it always was—quiet, a little too clean, with that faint woodsy smell that clung to everything Joel owned. He turned to you, jerking his head toward the couch. “You wanna do it here, or… head upstairs?” His voice was gruff, casual, like it didn’t matter much either way.

You snorted, crossing your arms as you arched a brow at him. “You make me sound like a sex addict, Joel.”

His brow furrowed, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as if to say, Aren’t you, though?

You rolled your eyes, pulling the slightly battered cupcake from behind your back. “Actually,” you began, your tone teasing as you held it out to him, “I’m here because it’s someone’s birthday.”

Joel’s expression froze for a moment, his eyes flicking to the cupcake and then back to you. “The hell’s this?” he asked, his voice softer now, tinged with something you couldn’t quite place.

“It’s a cupcake,” you said, grinning as you waved it in front of him. “Took some serious effort, too. You know how hard it is to get eggs without pissing everyone off?”

He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he took the cupcake from your hands, his calloused fingers brushing yours for just a moment. “You steal eggs for this?”

"Hey," you teased, "I baked for you. That’s a luxury, you know—not all my conquests get this kind of treatment."

Joel huffed a laugh, shaking his head as he leaned against the counter. “Conquests?” he repeated, his voice thick with amusement. “You’re fuckin’ ridiculous.”

“Seriously, though,” you said, stepping closer, “Happy birthday, Miller.”

“Thanks,” he muttered. He looked at it for a moment before letting out a low sigh. “Another fuckin’ year older.”

You smirked, walking towards the couch, “Don’t worry,” you said with a wink, “The machinery still works, right?”

Joel barked out a laugh, shaking his head. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?”

“I’ve been told,” you shot back, your grin widening as you plopped down onto his couch, making yourself comfortable. “So,” you started, glancing over at him, “any big plans for your big day?”

Joel followed, lowering himself onto the couch with a groan, his body settling heavily into the worn cushions. “No,” he said, running a hand through his messy hair, his fingers raking through the dark strands streaked with silver. “Not really my thing.”

You tilted your head, watching him for a moment. He looked tired, more so than usual, the lines around his eyes deeper, his shoulders heavier. Birthdays weren’t just something Joel ignored—they were something he carried, quietly, like an old wound he didn’t let anyone see.

“Guess that’s why I’m here,” you said lightly, breaking the silence. “Can’t let you sit around brooding all night, now, can I?”

Joel glanced at you, his dark eyes narrowing slightly, though there was a hint of something softer there, too. “You do that a lot? Rescue lonely old men on their birthdays?”

You grinned, leaning back against the cushions. “Only the ones who can still get it up.”

That got another chuckle out of him, the sound low and rough, like gravel underfoot. He shook his head, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, the cupcake still untouched in his hands.

For a moment, you both sat in silence, the faint hum of the fridge filling the room. It was comfortable, easy, the kind of quiet that felt rare in a world that was always teetering on the edge of chaos.

“So really, no plans?” you asked, edging closer to him on the couch, feigning innocence as you tucked one leg beneath you.

“Nah,” he muttered, his eyes darting away from yours. But he wasn’t fast enough for you to miss the way his jeans were beginning to strain, the fabric tightening over his thighs.

Your gaze dropped to his lap, catching the telltale tension in his jeans as they began to tighten. A smirk tugged at the corners of your lips. “Well,” you began, your hand finding its way to his thigh, your fingers brushing just a little too close to where you knew he was already hard. “I think I could give you a birthday present you might actually enjoy, Miller.”

His laugh was low, almost reluctant, but you saw the faintest twitch of a smile on his lips. “And you deny bein’ a sex addict,” he said, his voice laced with sarcasm.

“Hey,” you shot back, your grin widening as your hand slid just a little higher, your fingers brushing the seam of his jeans. “I’m not the one who’s about to cum in their pants.” You tilted your head, nodding toward the very obvious bulge straining against the zipper.

“It’s a fuckin’ Pavlovian response,” he said, chuckling under his breath, though his voice was strained. “You walk through that door, and my body just knows what’s comin’.”

“Doesn’t sound like you’re complaining,” you replied, your voice dropping lower as you slid off the couch, sinking to your knees between his legs.

“Fuck,” Joel muttered, his voice tight as he glanced down at you, his eyes dark and hooded. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?”

“C’mon, birthday boy,” you teased, your fingers trailing up his thigh as you grinned up at him. “I’ll let you cum in my mouth—just this once,” you added with a wink, your nails scraping lightly against the inside of his leg.

Joel huffed out a laugh, though it came out more like a groan as his hips shifted toward you instinctively. “You always let me do that,” he muttered, his tone gruff as his hands moved to his belt, undoing it with practiced ease.

“Yeah, well,” you said, your voice softening as you tugged his jeans and boxers down in one smooth motion, freeing him. “Consider it my gift to you.”

Joel let out a low curse, his head falling back again as you leaned in, your hand wrapping around him as you pressed a soft, teasing kiss to the tip. He was already throbbing, his body betraying the control he usually clung to so tightly.

As you worked him with your hands and mouth, Joel groaned, his fingers tangling in your hair. His usual gruff demeanor was slipping, replaced with raw, unguarded need, and you couldn’t help but smirk around him.

“Fuck, darlin’,” he muttered, his voice rough as his hips bucked slightly. “You’re too good at this.”

“Maybe,” you teased, pulling back just enough to glance up at him, your eyes meeting his. “But I think you’re enjoying it.”

Joel swallowed hard, his jaw clenched as he looked down at you, his dark eyes clouded with something you couldn’t quite place. “Yeah,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “Too much.”

His head tipped back against the couch with a groan, his hand tightening in your hair. “Fuck,” he murmured, his voice gravelly and raw. “Just like that, baby. Just like that.”

You didn’t stop, your head moving in a steady rhythm, his quiet curses spurring you on. Your tongue worked him perfectly, coaxing those low, guttural noises from deep in his chest. His hips shifted slightly, a tension in his thighs that told you he was close, and you couldn’t help but smirk.

Pulling back for just a moment, you let a string of saliva trail from his tip to your lips, your breath hitching as you whispered, “Use my mouth.”

Joel’s head snapped forward at your words, his eyes locking onto yours with a heat that sent a shiver down your spine. “Fuck,” he muttered, his voice hoarse as his hand slid from your hair to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “Alright. You sure about this?”

You nodded, your lips parting slightly as you gave him a wicked grin. “Positive.”

He didn’t waste any more time. His hand found its way back to your hair, his grip firm but careful as he guided you back to him. “Good girl,” he murmured, his voice rough as gravel as you took him again, deeper this time, his hips rolling forward just enough to test your limits.

The sound he made was low and guttural, almost a growl, as he watched you, his free hand gripping the edge of the couch so tightly his knuckles went white. “Jesus,” he muttered, his voice breaking as your hands gripped his thighs for balance, your movements eager and unrelenting. “You’re… fuckin’ perfect.”

The tension in the room was electric, every noise, every breath amplifying the heat between you. Joel’s composure was unraveling, his usual stoic demeanor cracking as he gave in to you completely. And for a fleeting moment, as his fingers brushed against your cheek in a surprisingly tender gesture, you wondered if there was something more to the way he looked at you—something deeper.

But before the thought could settle, Joel groaned your name, the sound low and guttural, reverberating through the quiet room. His hips stuttered, his control slipping as he came, his hand tightening in your hair, his breaths ragged and uneven. You didn’t hesitate, swallowing every drop, the heat of him lingering on your tongue as you pulled back, licking your lips with a slow, deliberate motion that made his chest rise and fall even harder.

“Damn,” he muttered, his voice still thick with desire as he glanced down at you, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You’re gonna kill me one of these days.”

You grinned, wiping your lips with the back of your hand as you pushed yourself up. “Wouldn’t want you going soft on me, Miller.”

“Fuck,” Joel groaned, running a hand through his hair as he stood, his other hand reaching for yours. “Let’s go upstairs,” he muttered, his voice rough but full of purpose. His cock brushed against his abdomen with each step, and the sight of him—disheveled, flushed, and fully undone—was enough to make your stomach flip.

You laughed, letting him guide you up the stairs. “I think I’ve corrupted you, Miller,” you teased, your voice laced with playful smugness.

Joel glanced over his shoulder, his dark eyes narrowing slightly. “Get on the bed,” he ordered, his tone firm but not harsh, sending a jolt of heat straight through you.

“Yes, sir,” you replied with a laugh, already peeling off your shirt as you stepped into the bedroom. But just as your fingers reached for the waistband of your pants, Joel’s hand caught yours, stopping you mid-motion.

“Slow,” he murmured, his voice low and almost tender, a stark contrast to the usual roughness. His eyes softened as he looked at you, his calloused thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Slow this time.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the shift in his tone. “Okay,” you said softly, nodding as you let your hands fall to your sides. His gaze lingered on you, searching, as if making sure you understood.

He took his time, his rough palms brushing against your skin as he worked your clothes off piece by piece, his eyes tracing every inch of you like he was memorizing it.

You felt bare—not just physically, but in a way that made your chest tighten. This wasn’t the hurried, primal need you were used to with Joel. This was different, heavier, as if he was letting you see a part of himself he usually kept locked away.

“Lie down,” Joel said, his voice soft but laced with that commanding edge that always made your stomach twist. You obeyed without hesitation, settling onto the bed as he climbed in after you, his weight dipping the mattress. He hovered over you, his hands braced on either side of your head, his dark eyes locking onto yours like he could see straight through you.

You bit your lip as you watched him, the room’s dim light catching the silver streaks in his hair. There was something in the way he looked at you tonight—something heavier, more deliberate, that made your pulse race. His hand moved slowly, his fingers brushing against your inner thigh, trailing higher until they found your core.

A sharp inhale escaped your lips, your hips hitching instinctively as his thumb pressed against you, teasing through the fabric. Joel’s eyes darkened, his brows furrowing slightly as if he was studying your reaction.

“You’re wet,” he murmured, his voice low and almost a growl, the words spoken as if they were a simple fact.

“Kinda what happens,” you hummed, your voice trembling as his lips brushed against your neck, leaving a trail of slow, deliberate kisses that made your skin burn.

But Joel didn’t stop. His thumb pressed firmer now, dragging a quiet moan from you as he spoke again, his words rough and laced with something possessive. “You’re wet,” he repeated, his lips grazing your ear, “for me.”

The way he said it sent a shiver down your spine, his voice curling around you like smoke, intoxicating and dangerous. His hand moved against you with a confidence that left no room for doubt, coaxing your body into responding to his every touch.

“Joel,” you whispered, your voice catching as his mouth found the hollow of your throat, his teeth grazing your skin just enough to make you gasp.

“Say it,” he murmured, his voice low and insistent as his hand slipped beneath your underwear, his fingers sliding through your slick heat. “Tell me you’re wet for me.”

Your head tilted back against the pillow, your breath hitching as your hands gripped his shoulders. “I am,” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m wet for you.”

“Damn right you are,” Joel muttered, his lips pressing against your jaw as his fingers moved with agonizing precision. There was no teasing now, no pretense—just Joel, gruff and unrelenting, pulling you apart like he owned you.

You swallowed hard, your voice trembling as you looked up at him. “Fuck, I need your cock,” you said, your words raw and unfiltered.

Joel raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking into the faintest of smirks. “Yeah?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly, the kind that sent shivers down your spine.

You nodded, biting your lip as he guided you, his hands firm yet careful, positioning you on your knees. He knew your favorite by now—doggy, fast and dirty, the kind of sex that didn’t leave room for intimacy, just raw need. But tonight, as he moved behind you, you reached back, stopping him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his brow furrowing as he looked at you, his hands lingering at your waist.

You turned to face him, a small smile tugging at your lips. “It’s your birthday,” you said softly, your voice lighter now, teasing but warm. “We’ll do it the way you like.”

Joel froze for a moment, his eyes scanning your face, searching for something. He didn’t say anything, but the shift in his expression was unmistakable—a flicker of vulnerability, quickly masked by his usual stoicism.

He didn’t ask how you knew. Joel might not have been one to talk, but you’d paid attention. You knew he always came quicker during missionary, the way he liked being able to see your face when you fell apart beneath him. You knew how he’d hitch your leg over his hip, how he liked the way it let him sink deeper.

You leaned back onto the bed, your fingers trailing along his forearm as you tugged him toward you. “C’mon, birthday boy,” you said, your voice softer now, the teasing edge replaced with something gentler. “Let me give you what you want.”

Joel’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, his eyes darkening as he climbed onto the bed, settling between your legs. He didn’t speak, but his hands said enough—the way they skimmed over your thighs, up your sides, lingering at your hips as if grounding himself.

He pushed into you slowly, achingly slow, his forehead still pressed to yours as he sank in fully. The stretch burned, but it was the kind of burn you craved, the kind that made your toes curl and your breath hitch. Joel groaned low in his throat, his grip on your thigh tightening as he began to move, his hips rolling into you with deliberate precision.

“Look at me,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, and you obeyed, your eyes locking onto his. It was too much—his gaze, the way his hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing over your flushed skin as he moved inside you. This wasn’t just sex anymore, not tonight.

“Fuck,” Joel muttered, his voice breaking as your nails raked lightly over his back. “You feel so damn good.”

“So do you,” you gasped, your hands gripping his shoulders as he hit that spot that made you see stars. “Joel—”

"Yeah, baby," Joel murmured, his voice rough and low as his forehead fell to your shoulder. His thrusts quickened, his hips snapping against yours in a way that made your whole body arch. “I got you,” he breathed, his words sending shivers down your spine.

“Fuck,” you groaned, your voice breaking as he pushed even deeper. “I feel you so deep,” you gasped, your fingers clawing at his back. The weight of him, the heat, the stretch—it was overwhelming in the best way.

Joel’s lips brushed against your neck, the coarse scrape of his beard a contrast to the softness of his mouth. He kissed you there, slow and deliberate, as though savoring the taste of your skin. But then, his kisses began to inch upward, moving with purpose—along the column of your neck, over your jaw, each one sending a ripple of heat through you.

You moaned, your hands gripping his shoulders as his lips lingered just below your chin. His pace quickened, his thrusts deeper, harder, but his kisses softer, more purposeful, like he was memorizing every inch of you.

“Joel,” you gasped, your voice trembling as his lips hovered dangerously close to yours. Your eyes fluttered open, meeting his dark, hooded gaze for a fleeting moment before they slipped shut again as he thrust into you with enough force to steal your breath.

He caught your wrists suddenly, pinning your hands above your head with one large, calloused hand, his grip firm but not harsh. The other hand slid under your thigh, hitching it higher to deepen the angle. “Let me,” he murmured, his voice raw and laced with something you hadn’t heard before—something close to desperation.

“Joel,” you warned, your voice trembling as his lips ghosted over yours, his breath hot and uneven against your mouth.

“Please,” he whispered, the single word heavy, his tone stripped of all its usual gruffness. And before you could respond, his lips met yours in a kiss so fervent, so unrestrained, that it stole every thought from your mind.

It wasn’t soft—it was passionate, consuming, like he’d been holding back for far too long. His mouth claimed yours, his lips moving against yours with a hunger that matched the way his body moved inside you. His tongue swept against yours, his grip on your wrists tightening as if to keep you grounded.

The kiss made everything shift, the weight of it hitting you like a wave. Joel wasn’t just fucking you anymore—he was with you, every touch, every movement speaking to something he couldn’t quite say out loud. His hips snapped harder now, his groans muffled against your lips as he swallowed every sound you made as you both finally came in perfect unison.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours as you both struggled to catch it. His dark eyes searched yours, his thumb brushing lightly over your wrist where he still held it above your head.

“Joel,” you whispered, your voice shaky, the weight of what had just happened pressing down on you.

But Joel didn’t say anything, not right away. Instead, he leaned down, capturing your lips in another kiss—softer this time, almost tender. His lips lingered on yours, like he was trying to memorize the feel of you, as if that kiss was meant to say what he couldn’t put into words. Whatever this was, it felt heavy, real, and it scared you more than you cared to admit.

You shifted, pulling away slightly to look at him. His face was uncharacteristically open, his usual guarded expression replaced with something raw, vulnerable. It was too much, too close, and you didn’t know what to say.

“Well,” you muttered, your voice breaking the silence as you pushed yourself up, your legs still shaky as you reached for your clothes. “I should probably go.”

Joel frowned, sitting up slightly, his bare chest glistening in the dim light as he watched you. “You’re leaving?” he asked, his voice gruff but tinged with something you didn’t expect—disappointment.

“Yeah,” you stammered, fumbling with your pants as you buttoned them. You avoided his gaze, focusing on the task at hand as you tried to come up with something, anything, to make this feel less... heavy. “I’ve, uh… I’ve got things to do,” you said finally, the excuse weak even to your own ears.

Joel leaned back against the headboard, his breathing still heavy, his eyes fixed on you as you moved around the room. He was silent for a long moment, and you felt the weight of his gaze like a physical thing, pressing down on you.

“You sure that’s why you’re leavin’?” he asked, his voice low but steady, his question cutting through the air like a knife.

You froze, your hands fumbling as you grabbed your jacket. You didn’t look at him, couldn’t look at him, because the way he was looking at you—like he was trying to figure you out, like he cared—was too much. “Yeah,” you said quickly, your voice flat. “That’s it.”

But Joel wasn’t stupid, and you knew he didn’t believe you. He let out a quiet sigh, his head tilting back against the headboard as he watched you, his dark eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re not built for this, are you?” he murmured, almost to himself.

You flinched, the words hitting closer to home than you wanted to admit. “Don’t make this something it’s not, Joel,” you said sharply, finally turning to face him. “It’s just sex.”

Joel’s jaw tightened, his gaze hardening as he studied you. “If that’s all it is,” he said, his voice rough, “then why are you runnin’?”

You didn’t have an answer for that—not one you were ready to admit, anyway. So instead, you pulled your jacket on, forcing a smile as you stepped toward the door. “See you around, Miller,” you said, your tone deliberately casual, as if the tension between you didn’t exist.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Joel’s words haunted you, replaying over and over in your head: “If that’s all it is, then why are you runnin’?”

It had been days since you’d last seen him, and you’d tried everything to shake him from your system. Your fingers weren’t enough, and humping your pillow only left you frustrated. Hell, you even considered finding someone else to fuck—someone who didn’t look at you the way Joel did, who didn’t make you feel like you were standing on the edge of something you didn’t know how to handle. But no matter what you did, deep down, you knew the truth: you didn’t just want someone. You needed him.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, glancing at the clock. It was past 1 a.m. Joel would be pissed—you knew that. But you didn’t care. The thought of another night without him was unbearable, and before you could overthink it, you were already out the door, making your way to his house.

The door creaked softly as you let yourself in, the weight of the key in your pocket feeling heavier than usual. You climbed the stairs quietly, the familiar scent of his house wrapping around you like a blanket. When you reached his room, the sight of him stopped you in your tracks.

Joel was fast asleep, his chest rising and falling steadily. The soft glow of moonlight streamed through the window, highlighting the silver in his hair, the lines on his face that seemed softer in sleep. For a moment, you hesitated, your resolve faltering as you watched him. He looked peaceful—something you rarely saw.

“Joel,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you stood at the edge of the bed. He didn’t stir. You tried again, a little louder this time. “Joel.”

He jolted awake with a start, his hand instinctively reaching for a weapon that wasn’t there. “Fucking hell,” he muttered, his voice thick with sleep as he squinted at you in the dim light. “You scared the shit outta me.” He reached over, flipping on the lamp. The warm light illuminated the room, his brow furrowed as he took you in.

“I could’ve shot you,” he grumbled, running a hand down his face as he sat up.

“Your gun’s downstairs,” you said simply, your tone light, though your heart was racing. You crossed your arms, standing awkwardly by the bed as he stared at you.

Joel’s eyes narrowed, his annoyance evident as he leaned back against the headboard. “The hell are you doin’ here? It’s one in the goddamn mornin’.”

You swallowed hard, your confidence wavering under his gaze. “I… I couldn’t sleep,” you admitted, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

He raised an eyebrow, his expression softening just slightly as he watched you. “So you thought wakin’ me up was a good idea?”

You shrugged, your lips twitching into a faint smirk despite yourself. “You’re awake now, aren’t you?”

Joel let out a quiet huff, shaking his head as he looked at you. His expression was unreadable, but it didn’t matter.

You knew this dance—knew how to dissolve the tension in the way you always did. Slowly, you reached for the hem of your shirt, starting to pull it over your head.

This you knew how to do.

“Stop,” he said, his voice low but firm. He sighed, sitting up straighter in bed, running a hand through his already-messy hair. “Just… stop.”

Your hands froze mid-motion, the fabric falling back into place as you stared at him. “Oh,” you muttered, the word quiet as you smoothed your shirt back down. “Okay.”

Joel’s jaw clenched, his eyes fixed on the floor as he avoided your gaze. “I think… we should stop,” he said finally, his voice rough, like the words were being dragged out of him.

“Stop what?” you asked, your brow furrowing as a sharp sting of disappointment coursed through you.

“This,” he said, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. “What we’ve been doin’. I think it’s time to stop.”

Your chest tightened, the words hitting you harder than you’d expected. You masked it with a scoff, trying to brush it off like it didn’t matter. “You got a girlfriend or something now?” you joked, your voice light, but the edge of bitterness still slipped through.

Joel’s head snapped up at that, his dark eyes meeting yours for a moment before he quickly looked away again. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he shifted uncomfortably. “Maybe,” he muttered, his shoulders tensing.

It was a lie—you could see it clear as day. Joel wasn’t a good liar. Not to you.

“What?” you said, your brow furrowing deeper as you stared at him. “Since when?”

He shrugged, the motion stiff and unconvincing. “Couple weeks, maybe,” he said, still not meeting your eyes.

“Bullshit,” you snapped, crossing your arms as you tilted your head at him. “You can’t even look at me.”

Joel’s lips pressed into a thin line, his jaw working as he tried to find the right words. He couldn’t tell you the truth—that it wasn’t about some imaginary girlfriend. That it was about you. That somewhere along the line, he’d started to feel more than he should have, and it was tearing him apart.

“Does it matter?” he said finally, his voice gruff as he forced himself to look at you. “It’s not workin’. We shouldn’t have started this in the first place.”

You flinched at the harshness of his tone, the wall he was building between you suddenly feeling insurmountable. “Not working?” you echoed, your voice quieter now, the hurt bleeding into your words despite your best efforts to hide it. “What the hell does that even mean, Joel?”

“It means this is gonna hurt if it keeps goin’,” he said, his voice softening just enough to make it worse. “For both of us.”

You stared at him, your mind racing. This was Joel—gruff, unyielding, impossible Joel—and he was pulling away from you, shutting you out. And even though you’d told yourself this was just sex, that it didn’t matter, the ache in your chest told a different story.

“Fine,” you said finally, your voice sharp as you pushed yourself off the bed, grabbing your jacket. “If that’s how you feel, then fine.”

Joel didn’t stop you, didn’t say another word as you stormed out. But as the door clicked shut behind you, he let out a long, shaky breath, his head falling into his hands.

He’d lied to you—lied to protect himself, and maybe to protect you, too. But the truth was, Joel didn’t just like you. He’d fallen for you, hard and fast, and it scared him more than he wanted to admit.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

One week later

You found yourself at the Tipsy Bison, the familiar hum of muted conversations and the occasional clink of glasses filling the dimly lit bar. It was almost poetic, sitting here again, like the first time you met Joel. Except this time, the tension wasn’t playful—it was heavy, suffocating, and every sip of your drink did little to ease the weight in your chest.

The stool next to you creaked, and you didn’t need to look to know who it was. Joel sat down beside you, his presence unmistakable. He didn’t speak right away, just let the silence stretch before finally breaking it.

“Do I know you?” he asked, his voice low and teasing, throwing your own line back at you from that first night.

You turned your head to glare at him. “What do you want, Joel?” you asked, raising your glass to your lips and taking a long sip.

He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the bar as he glanced sideways at you. “Haven’t seen you in a while,” he said, his tone casual, but his eyes betraying something deeper.

“Yeah, well,” you said, your voice sharp as you set your glass down with a clink. “You made it pretty clear you wanted nothing to do with me.”

“That’s not true,” he said quickly, shaking his head, his brows knitting together in frustration. “You know that’s not true.”

You let out a dry laugh, the sound bitter as you swirled the drink in your glass. “Right. So where’s your imaginary girlfriend?” you spat, the words laced with venom as you turned to face him fully.

Joel’s jaw tightened, his hand curling into a loose fist on the bar. “Don’t,” he said, his voice low, warning. He said your name, the sound of it rough and heavy, like it carried the weight of all the things he hadn’t said yet.

“What, Joel?” you snapped, your voice rising slightly, drawing the attention of a couple of nearby patrons. “You think you can just show up here and—what? Smooth everything over? You lied to me.”

His eyes narrowed, his lips pressing into a thin line as he leaned closer. “I didn’t lie,” he said firmly. “I—”

“You did!” you interrupted, your voice trembling now, your emotions spilling over in a way you couldn’t control. “You lied to me, Joel.”

“I lied because we had to stop,” he shot back, his voice rough, his words cutting through the air like a blade.

“Okay, well, you could’ve just said that,” you snapped, throwing your hands up in frustration. “Instead of pulling that bullshit about having some imaginary girlfriend.”

Joel’s shoulders sagged slightly, his jaw tightening as he rubbed a hand over his face. “I know,” he muttered, his voice quieter now, more subdued. “I fucked up.”

“Fuck,” you groaned, the word coming out like a frustrated exhale as you turned away for a moment, your hand gripping your glass tightly. “I thought you liked it.”

“Of course I liked it,” Joel said sharply, his voice rising slightly before he caught himself. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, his expression softened, his voice dipping lower. “You think I didn’t?”

“Then what?” you demanded, your voice raw as you turned back to him, searching his face for an answer that made sense. “Ever since your birthday, you’ve been weird. Was it the kiss? Joel, you chose to kiss me.”

“I know,” he murmured, his voice almost a sigh, his head dipping slightly as his shoulders hunched forward. “I know I did.”

“Then just tell me,” you pleaded, your voice cracking. “Is it me? Did I do something wrong?”

“It’s not you,” Joel said quickly, his voice firm as he looked up at you, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “It’s not you.”

“Then what is it?” you asked, your frustration giving way to something closer to hurt, your voice quieter now.

Joel let out a heavy sigh, his hand gripping the edge of the bar as he leaned forward, his shoulders tense. “I just… I can’t keep doin’ this,” he said finally, his voice low and gruff. “I can’t keep havin’ sex with you and actin’ like it ain’t somethin’ more.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy and loaded, like a bomb waiting to go off. Your breath hitched, your heart pounding in your chest as you stared at him, trying to process what he’d just said.

“Something more,” you repeated softly, almost to yourself.

Joel nodded, his jaw working as he looked down at his hands. “Yeah,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s somethin’ more. Least it is for me.”

The room seemed to tilt, the weight of his admission making it hard to breathe. You swallowed hard, your hands gripping the edge of the bar as you tried to steady yourself. “And you didn’t think to tell me that sooner?” you asked, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and something else—something closer to fear.

“I didn’t know how,” Joel admitted, his voice raw, like the words had been dragged out of him. “Hell, I didn’t even wanna admit it to myself. But I can’t keep doin’ this, can’t keep seein’ you and pretendin’ I don’t feel the way I do.”

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you felt like the ground had shifted beneath you. “I…” you stammered, searching for something to say, but your thoughts were a jumbled mess.

“Hey,” Joel cut in gently, his voice soft but firm. “This isn’t about me tellin’ you how I feel and expectin’ you to feel the same. I’m a big boy—I can handle it if you don’t.” His eyes flicked to yours, a faint, self-deprecating smile tugging at his lips. “It’s just that… it’ll be too hard if we keep goin’. Too hard for me.”

“Oh,” you murmured, swallowing hard as you tried to process his words, your fingers curling around the edge of the bar for support.

“Yeah,” he said, his gaze dropping to his hands as he rubbed the back of his neck. The awkwardness in the air was palpable, and yet there was something unbearably vulnerable about the way he sat there, shoulders hunched slightly, like he was bracing for a blow.

You took a shaky breath, willing yourself to find your voice. “I’ve never…” you began, hesitating as his gaze lifted to meet yours. The weight of his attention made it harder to get the words out, but you pushed forward. “I’ve never been in a relationship.”

Joel’s brow furrowed slightly, his lips parting in surprise. “Really?” he asked, his voice low and careful, as if he didn’t want to push too hard.

You nodded, exhaling a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. “Yeah,” you said, your voice quieter now. “I’ve never been… in love.” The words came out haltingly, the weight of them settling heavily between you. “So I don’t even know what that feels like,” you confessed, your eyes searching his, hoping he’d understand the vulnerability in your words.

Joel’s expression softened, his rough exterior giving way to something warmer, something almost gentle. “Alright,” he said, his voice low and steady, as if grounding you. “That’s okay. There ain’t no timeframe on that sorta thing. No rules sayin’ when it’s supposed to happen.”

You looked at him, the gruff man who so often felt impossible to pin down, who was usually the one keeping things at arm’s length. But here he was, sitting across from you, making space for something you didn’t know how to name. “How does it feel?” you asked suddenly, the words spilling out before you could stop them. Vulnerability cracked through your voice, a stark contrast to the version of yourself that usually tore his clothes off, always in control, always calling the shots.

Joel’s brow furrowed slightly as he sat back, his gaze thoughtful. “How does it feel?” he repeated, almost to himself. He ran a hand down his face, exhaling slowly before meeting your eyes again.

“It feels like someone you can’t stop thinkin’ about, no matter how much you try not to. Like every little thing they do sticks with you. The way they laugh, the way they look when they’re not payin’ attention…” He trailed off, his voice dropping lower, almost hesitant, as if revealing too much might make him unravel.

His jaw clenched briefly before he added, “It’s like missin’ someone even when they’re right next to ya.”

You swallowed hard, his words hitting you with a force you weren’t ready for. The realization struck fast and sharp—you felt that way for Joel. You had for a while now, but hearing him put it into words made it real, undeniable. Your throat tightened as you swallowed again, your hands gripping the edge of the bar as if it could steady you.

“It’s different for everyone,” Joel said with a shrug, his voice almost casual now, like he was trying to pull back from the weight of what he’d just shared. He sighed, his fingers drumming lightly on the bar. “You’re not upset, are you? I mean… I still want us to, you know, talk.”

“Talk?” you said, laughing softly despite the tightness in your chest. “Don’t know if we ever did a whole lot of that, Joel.”

He chuckled, the sound rough and low, but his eyes didn’t leave yours, like he was searching for something unspoken in your expression.

“Joel,” you said, your voice quieter now, more hesitant. You took a deep breath, your gaze dropping to the scuffed wood of the bar as you found the courage to speak. “There’s… one person I’ve felt like that for.”

Joel’s posture stiffened slightly, his brows furrowing as he tilted his head, his dark eyes watching you closely. “Oh,” he said, his voice careful, guarded.

You nodded, your fingers tracing invisible patterns on the bar’s surface. “I miss him when he’s not there,” you said softly, the words coming out like a confession. “And I feel like he… sees me, you know? Like really sees me, in a way no one else does.”

Joel swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as his hand flexed against the bar. His gaze flickered, his usual stoic demeanor cracking slightly as he shifted in his seat.

“And…” you whispered, your voice barely audible now, the vulnerability in your words making them stick in your throat. “And I think he feels the same way about me.”

Joel’s breath hitched, his eyes locking onto yours, and for a moment, it felt like the whole world had stilled. His lips parted slightly, like he was about to say something, but the words didn’t come. Instead, his hand reached out, hesitating for only a moment before brushing lightly against yours where it rested on the bar.

“Is that right?” he murmured finally, his voice rough, his dark eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite name.

You nodded, your heart pounding as your fingers turned, brushing lightly against his. “Yeah,” you whispered, your voice trembling, the weight of everything you were saying—and everything you weren’t—hanging in the air. “It is.”

“But…” you began, your voice faltering, “I think he thinks all I use him for is sex.”

Joel stiffened slightly, his hand pausing against yours as his jaw tightened. He looked away for a moment, his eyes darting to the scuffed wood of the bar as he exhaled slowly. “Do you?” he asked, his voice low and steady, but there was something vulnerable in the way he said it, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer.

Your chest tightened at the question, the weight of it pressing down on you. “No,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “No, I don’t.”

Joel glanced back at you, his brow furrowed, his expression guarded but softening just enough to let you see the cracks in his armor. “Then why…?” he started, but he trailed off, like he couldn’t quite finish the sentence.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe it was easier that way. To pretend it was just physical. To not think about… everything else.”

Joel’s lips pressed into a thin line, his hand still resting over yours. “Everything else,” he repeated quietly, almost to himself.

You bit your lip, your fingers tightening slightly under his. “But it wasn’t, was it?” you asked softly, your voice trembling. “Not for you. Not for me.”

Joel’s breath hitched slightly, his eyes meeting yours again, and this time there was no hiding the emotion there. “No,” he said simply, his voice rough. “It wasn’t.”

For a moment, the silence between you was deafening, the weight of everything unsaid filling the space. And then Joel’s hand shifted, his fingers lacing through yours as he let out a soft sigh. “I thought… maybe that’s all you wanted,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant. “Didn’t think you wanted more.”

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to speak. “I didn’t know I did,” you said honestly, your eyes searching his. “Not until now.”

Joel nodded slowly, his thumb brushing over your hand in a gesture so tender it made your chest ache. “Well,” he said softly, his voice steady but laced with something that sounded like hope, “guess we got some figurin’ out to do, then.”

You bit your lip as you took him in, the tension between you crackling like a live wire. Even now, even with the weight of everything unsaid hanging heavy in the air, Joel turned you on in a way that made your stomach flip. Your panties were already damp, a low heat building that you couldn’t ignore, no matter how serious the conversation had been moments ago.

Joel’s eyes caught yours, and he sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. “I know that look,” he said, his voice low and rough, tinged with something that made your breath hitch. He knew you too well—the way your eyes grew hazy when you were needy, the way you bit your lip like you were barely holding yourself together.

You shook your head, feeling your cheeks heat under his steady gaze. “Can’t help it,” you said softly, almost shyly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Fuck,” Joel muttered under his breath, his jaw tightening as he looked at you. His dark eyes searched your face, his expression unreadable. “You mean it?” he asked finally, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant. “There’s… somethin’ there?”

“Yeah,” you said, your voice trembling as you nodded. “There’s something there.”

Joel stared at you for a moment, his shoulders rising and falling with a deep, steadying breath. “Fuck,” he said again, the word rough and full of meaning. He reached for your hand, his grip firm but gentle. “Let’s go home.”

A startled laugh escaped your lips, almost a squeal as the weight of the moment dissolved into an electric anticipation. You grabbed his hand, and together you practically ran out of the bar, your steps hurried, his long strides matching yours as you made your way through the quiet streets of Jackson.

The night air was cool, but your skin burned with the heat of what was about to happen. Every brush of his shoulder against yours, every glance he threw your way as you moved together, only stoked the fire. By the time you reached Joel’s front door, both of you were breathless, though not from the walk.

Joel fumbled with his keys for only a second before pushing the door open, and as soon as it clicked shut behind you, he turned, his dark eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your knees weak.

“This what you want?” he asked, his voice low, almost a growl as he stepped closer.

“Yeah,” you whispered, your voice steady despite the way your heart raced. “It’s what I want.”

Joel didn’t wait another second. His hands were on you, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that was equal parts desperate and tender, the kind that made you feel like you were being seen, completely and utterly. And for the first time, it wasn’t just about the heat or the need—it was about something more, something that neither of you had the words for yet, but both of you could feel.

#joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #ellie tlou #pedro pascal fanfic #joel miller one shot #joel miller smut #pedro pascal one shot #joel and ellie #joel x reader #joel the last of us #joel tlou #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedropascaledit

503 notes · View notes

emotionoitme · 6 months ago

Text

nectar of the gods

nectar of the gods - lana del rey

part 2 of don’t call my name

warnings: jealousy, the c word (claire), pervy carmy but that’s a given, date gone wrong (pushy man & use of some force. nothing bad happens), guard dog carmy, small argument. nasty smut: themes of brat tamer carmy, female masturbation, teasing + condescending dirty talk, fingering, squirting, biting, kissing, unprotected sex (oops), slight size kink, he doesn’t choke her but he holds her neck, slight breeding kink, ok maybe not so slight, she gets fucked kind of stupid.

wc: 9.5k

a/n: thanks so much for the love on part one! let me know what u think of this one!! <3 enjoy the nastiness

playlist

the weeks that followed the soft touches and heated kisses were, to say the least, awkward.

carmen has never been the strongest communicator, and working long hours at the bear conveniently meant they didn’t really see much of each other.

unluckily for him, she conveniently seemed to be home when he had invited claire over to talk.

in his defense, it was a late night, heat of the moment decision. one in which he was caught in a weak spot–feeling lonely and, admittedly, thinking obsessively of his roommate. a decision he deeply regretted the following day, when he had checked his messages and saw she said yes.

claire came over for morning coffee when carmy decided to go into work late. she gave him a enthusiastic greeting when he opened the door, rushing forward to hug him. it didn’t feel right, but he reciprocated.

“so good to see you, carm,” she told him, warmly.

“hey, you too,” eyes glancing over to the clock beside the door, “you’re early.”

she pulled back, smiling.

“i thought you’d be happy to have more time with me.”

he gestured her in and shut the door. he hadn’t really wanted her to come at all once he woke up, but how could she have known that?

he felt stupid.

“i, am” he replied unenthusiastically, “but my, um…. my roommate is still home.”

“you have a roommate now?” she asked.

“yeah, just for a while. want to go outside?” he questioned, eyes darting to the stairs.

“can’t we just sit at the table? it’s cold out.” claire followed his gaze to the staircase.

he paused, sighing.

“okay, yeah. let’s sit at the table.” hand running through his hair, pulling slightly. he forced himself to sit and meet her gaze, asking her how she’s been, trying to pay attention. trying to care.

a few minutes into their conversation, he heard soft footsteps approaching from behind.

“goodmorning,” his roommate called out, smiling at claire. carmen whipped his head around. she was dressed for work. she looked good.

“oh. hi,” claire returned, “you’re carmy’s roommate?” the surprise evident in her voice.

“only short term,” she replied, shooting carmen a glance, “and you are?”

“i’m claire,” she returned with a smile, “i’m his-”

“she’s my friend.” carmy interrupted, watching as claire’s eyebrows shot up at this.

“umm, we’re a little more than friends,” claire laughed, turning to his roommate, “me and carm have known eachother since we were kids. and we dated for a while, didn’t we, bear?”

he watched as his roommate widened her eyes a bit, nodding.

“how sweet. you guys are so cute together, you should date again,” sickly enthusiasm rung from her voice, “nice to meet you claire, but i’ve gotta get to work.”

“so nice meeting you! i’ll see you around.”

his roommate didn’t respond, quickly walking to the kitchen to grab a thermos of coffee then rushing out the door, letting it slam behind her.

“she’s cute,” claire complimented, “should i be worried?” her tone joking, but still locking eyes with carmen. he stayed silent, rubbing a hand over his face, then exhaling.

“listen, claire, you, uh…. you’ve gotta go. i’m sorry for inviting you.”

“what?”

he left for work as soon as she was out the door, trying to distract himself from the reminder of all the people he had hurt so early in the morning.

besides that tense interaction, he didn't see his roommate at all for about a week and a half.

that didn’t mean he wouldn’t still think about her, though. in fact, it felt like he couldn’t focus on anything else—the night of their hungry kisses and gentle touches playing like a loop in his head.

he thinks of how responsive she was, how her lips felt. how he longed to hear her beg for him.

almost two whole weeks passed, and he still wasn’t man enough to face her, making sure he was in the restaurant until late at night and out of the apartment extra early in the morning.

he scrubbed at the stovetop, remembering the smell of her skin. yearning for it. he stood at the expo and barked directions, skin prickling with the memory of her touch. the slight drag of her nails across his abdomen. how eager she was.

that morning, as the sun just began to flood through the windows, he found himself passing by her room, glancing through the open door.

he stopped himself as soon as he passed, taking a step backwards to get another look.

she lay sleeping on her side, facing away from him, one leg resting on top of the duvet. her breath was steadily rising and falling, big shirt was bunched up over her waist, allowing him the pleasure of gliding his eyes along the curve of her bare waist. he savors the moment, gaze gliding down to her hip, then falling on the little blue pair of underwear that clung to her ass.

and yes, he felt like a creep, but he still continued to stand there and watch her for a few minutes, wishing he could take a picture to remember the captivating sight.

instead he just forced himself to walk away.

it’s a long, stressful day of refires, late tickets, and continuous yelling.

carmen only gets home shy of midnight, basking in the still silence of the apartment as the door latches. he slips his coat off and hangs his keys on the hook—the key hook she put up, after the 5th time he had asked her if she had seen his keys.

hers were gone, surprisingly. he wonders where she could’ve been at midnight with a nervous uncertainty.

carmen makes his way to the kitchen, grabbing a cold glass of water before walking over to the couch to collapse.

the living room was illuminated in a soft lamp light. he loved that there would be lights on when he came home. it felt less lonely, somehow.

his eyes glance around the room, noting the addition of potted plants, some throw pillows and blankets, art, framed pictures. some of her family, some of his.

it had thrown him off, a bit, to come home one day, before the awkwardness, to see a framed picture of him and mikey standing on one of the living room’s side tables. he hardly recognized the old picture, studying it with disbelief. on that day, he picked it up and walked to his roommate’s door, knocking softly.

“come in,” she had called.

he opened the door, and found her sitting at her vanity, combing her hair. he held up the picture, pointing to it.

“shit, i’m sorry. i should’ve asked,” she started to explain.

“-no, no, i was, uh, just a little surprised,” he reassured, “where did you get this from?”

she set her comb down on the vanity and turned to face him.

“it was in a box at the back of my closet,” she told him, “lots of pictures. i promise i didn’t go through it. that one was just at the top. and i thought it was sweet. i was just thinking since i have so many up of my family, you would-”

“-no, yeah. thank you. it was really nice of you,” he admitted, “just caught me off guard.”

she gave him a sympathetic smile.

he fondly recalls the memory as he studied the decorations. never before had his home felt so much like a home.

he lets his eyes shut slowly, basking in the comfort of the plush couch. around 20 minutes pass until he hears muffled voices from outside the unit, then the sound of keys fumbling with the lock.

his stomach drops a little at the thought of having to face her, so he keeps his eyes closed, hoping he could ignore the interaction all together. as the door swings open, he hears her voice.

“okay, thanks. i’ll see you around,” tiredness evident in her tone. then, a man’s voice.

“it’s a nice place. what’s the inside like?”

carmen feels a surge of annoyance. was she bringing men over?

“it’s, uh, nice too. i have to get up early tomorrow though, so-”

“we had a nice time, right? let’s keep it going.” the man’s tone becomes pushier. carmen’s annoyance turns to anger. who did this douchebag think he was? he hears his roommate release a sardonic chuckle.

“listen, dude, get out. i’m not interested.” her tone firm and assertive. carmen sits up slightly to peek over the couch.

“god, i can’t stand women like you,” the stranger retorts, “a $200 check, and you’re not even gonna invite me in?”

carmen watches as she tries to close the door. the man puts his arm out, aggressively pushing it back open. he sits up the rest of the way, having had enough of the interaction.

“hey fuckhead,” he barks. the stranger’s eyes dart to him, clearly surprised there was another person home.

“she said get out.” his jaw is tight, eyes wide, staring the man down. “we gonna have a fuckin’ problem?”

the stranger puts his hands up in defense, taking a step back.

“hey, no problem here, man. just trying to say goodni-”

she slams the door in his face, latching the deadbolt. the girl lets out a heavy sigh before glancing over to where carmen sits.

“thanks,” she mumbles, hanging up her keys and taking her jacket off. he glances over the skin-tight long sleeve dress she was wearing.

“who was that?” he asks immediately, trying to keep the hint of possessiveness out of his voice. she leans down to slide her heels off, glancing up at him.

“a date.”

he continues to stare at her, hoping she would elaborate. instead, she ignores him, walking to the kitchen and putting the tea kettle on to boil. he stands and follows her, brow twitching.

“you, uh, going on dates now?” he questions, hands coming to his hips.

“yep,” she curtly replies, grabbing a mug from the cabinet and placing a teabag inside.

“with guys like that, huh? nice.” he scoffs. the man has trouble rationalizing why he feels so aggravated.

“fuck off, carmen,” she sharply retorts, refusing to turn toward him, “it’s none of your business.”

“it is when you bring them here” he argues.

“what, like how you brought your little girlfriend over?” she yanks open the fridge and grabs the milk.

“she is not my girlfriend” he asserts.

the girl rolls her eyes and ignores him, turning the burner off at the sound of the kettle whistling, pouring the hot water into her mug. he moves closer to her, staring at the side of her face.

“she’s not,” he emphasizes. the added pressure makes her feel compelled to respond.

“well, she’s something to you,” she argues, setting the kettle back down harder than she intended, turning to face him. she immediately wishes she hadn’t, the intensity of his eyes setting her ablaze, skin prickling. it makes her a little weak in the knees to be face to face with him again, as much as she hated to admit it.

“no, she isn’t, i- fuck…i had this weak moment after…you and i kissed, and it-,” he exhales, pausing. “i didn’t realize how much i missed…that kind of thing. so i invited her over. and immediately fuckin’ regretted it when she said yes.”

“why?” she asks softly.

“why’d i regret it?” he clarifies. she nods.

he takes a small step closer to her.

“because i don’t want that kind of thing with claire,” he confesses.

she doesn’t know what to say, instead just watches him, studying his face. she catches the split second his eyes dart down to her lips, and feels what little resolve she has begin to crumble, so she turns away from him, back to her tea, and begins to stir in some milk.

“okay,” her reply comes softly, “i get it.”

“yeah?” he presses, eyes locked on her.

“yeah,” she responds, “i know how it feels. to get…lonely like that. so truce.”

he lets out a breath of relief, threading his fingers through his hair.

silence, for a moment. he watches her bring the hot drink up to her lips and take a small sip. carmy is the one to break the silence.

“is that, uh, the reason you’re going on dates, then?” he pries.

“what, because of loneliness?” she asks, warming her hands on the mug. he gives her a small nod, his eyebrows slightly furrowed.

“yeah. i guess so” she responds, “with these… weirdos that don’t let me know they’re weirdos until it’s too late.” her gaze fixes on a point in front of her, unfocused. she stays like this for a moment, then breaks her trance, eyes coming to carmy’s face. his sweet and handsome face.

“i’m really glad you were here, by the way.” she adds softly.

he doesn’t know what to say for a second, shaking his head. trying to push away the anxiety that came with what could’ve happened to her, had he not been on the couch at that exact moment.

“yeah. me too.” he replies soberly. she watches his serious expression, eyes locked. the girl can’t help but break out into a grin and softly giggle. she leans back against the counter.

“it was kinda sexy, too,” she quips, “watching you get all mad like that.”

carmy can’t help the smile that breaks his solemnity.

“fuck off,” he amuses, shaking his head. she begins to laugh. he likes it a lot.

“seriously,” she presses still smiling, “it was-…i liked it.” she gave a nod of her head.

he just keeps staring at her with a soft smile on his face.

“well i don’t wanna yell at anyone else. so no more guys over.”

“oh yeah?” her tone teasing, “it’s kind of your fault that i even went on a date in the first place” she chimes, taking another sip of tea.

“my fault?” he asks, eyebrows lifting.

“yeah. i mean, i wouldn’t have to if you weren’t such a…fucking tease.” she tells him, smiling against the lip of her mug

that was the last thing he expected her to say, letting out a small scoff at her bluntness.

“i’m the tease?” he asks in disbelief. if only she knew the relentless battles he fought internally from the second he first saw her. she’d been teasing him without knowing it for weeks.

“you wanted me to beg,” she reminds him, “and then, you left me. i had to fend for myself.”

he knew. he could hear her through the door.

“yeah, uh,” he fights the smile that creeps onto his face, “sorry about that.”

“that’s okay,” she replies, “cause i’m gonna give you payback.”

“payback?” he amuses, eyes creeping down her face, briefly falling to her chest and admiring the scoop neck dress she wore. okay, maybe not briefly.

she nods, stepping forward into his personal space, only inches apart. his eyes dart back up to meet hers. she keeps her gaze locked with his and slides her fingers under his white shirt, ghosting over the deep cut lines of his hips.

carmen’s breath stills as she hooks the waistband of his pants, leaning in to softly kiss his neck. she peppers sweet kisses up to his ear, then gently catches his lobe in between her teeth. her hands trail up, splaying across his stomach and feeling the firm muscle. carmen clenches his teeth as her lips begin moving along the base of his jaw.

she had barely touched him and yet that burning sensation begins to creep up his skin.

once her lips make it to his chin, she straightens and pulls him into her.

he feels his breath skip.

the girl hovers her lips over his, giving him only a light impression of touch. the front of her body is flush against his, and she can feel his hardness pressing into her.

carmy knows exactly what she’s doing, and he doesn’t feel entirely enthusiastic about being teased.

he glides his hand under her jaw, fingers carding through her hair and resting near the base of her skull. he grabs it tightly and she lets out a soft whimper, lips parting. the sound is too sweet for him to maintain his composure—he wants to taste it.

carmen pulls her into his lips impatiently, relishing the supple feeling of her mouth. their lips lock together desperately, kisses in tandem. with a last, slow kiss she pulls away with a small grin on her face. his hand still entangles with her hair, eyed fixated on her lips.

“that all you gonna give me?” he grumbles lowly.

she nods, “mmhm,” and her lip catches between her teeth.

his free hand comes to grab her side, thumb pressing into her hip bone. she arches into his touch, lids heavy, body increasingly hot. he meets her eyes.

“you’re…” he exhales, smile creeping at the edges of his lips, “you’re a little brat. y’know that?”

“you like it,” she argues softly.

she’s wrong, he thinks, he loves it.

she smooths her hand up his abdomen, fingers pressing into the firm muscle. he tenses under the rousing touch, then groans as she gently drags her nails down the length of his stomach.

she feels his bulge twitch against her pelvis.

the girl smiles at this, satisfied with her work of payback. she doesn’t give him a chance to respond before she pulls away completely.

he blinks a few times, processing the loss of heat, watching as she turns to walk out of the kitchen.

he almost follows her, too, but stops in his tracks when she calls goodnight.

fucking tease.

it was after 1am by the time the girl had showered and completed her nighttime routine, peeling back her duvet and slipping into the silky sheets.

she tried desperately to clear her mind over the past hour, having difficulty thinking of anything besides her roommate. anything besides how much she had turned herself on in the process of “payback”.

she lays flat on her back, then turns to her side. then she turns to the other side. then flat on her stomach. the girl releases a sigh of frustration. nothing was comfortable. every inch of her body felt hot. carmy’s lips felt so fucking good.

the heater is too loud. the streetlights are shining through the curtains. she wants to take him inside of her.

her hand sneaks underneath the duvet, brushing over her hardened nipples, trailing down her stomach and creeping under the waistband of her panties.

she thinks about how much she liked kissing him as she begins to drag her finger through her folds. she thinks about how he would always hold himself back. it was easy to tell—he would tighten his jaw and his eyes would get dark, giving her this look at her as if he wanted to devour her whole. she feels herself getting wet, beginning to circle around her clit, frustration at the dull ache within that seemed incurable no matter how much she tried to pleasure herself.

the girl feels so desperate laying in her bed that she decides she would take whatever carmen would give her.

even if that meant having to beg for it.

she rips her hand out of her panties and flings the duvet off of her, sharply exhaling as the cool surrounding air kisses her skin. she throws her legs over the side of the bed and stands up. maybe a cold glass of water would help.

the temperature drops as she exits her room. clad in only underwear and a cropped tank top, goosebumps begin to rise on her skin

as she makes her way down the hallway, curious eyes land on carmen’s cracked door. she stops and takes a peek inside.

the outside streetlights flood in through his window too, yet there he lay sleeping heavily, completely unbothered.

she pushes the door open a little more, just out of curiosity.

he lay on his back, shirtless, with an arm thrown over his face, chest rising and falling steadily. watching him did nothing more than worsen the desire she felt.

she inches into the room almost uncontrollably, coming to stand next to his bed.

before she gains enough sense to turn away and leave, she peels back his sheets and slides in next to him. the man shifts a bit, then settles back into his slumber.

she feels kind of creepy just watching him, but he looks so incredibly handsome in his relaxed state, his plump lips parting with soft exhales.

she feels such little control over herself, thinking of how she wants to feel him. wants to taste his skin.

fuck it.

she slowly pulls the sheets down and off of him. he’s wearing a pair of boxer briefs and she can’t help but release a breath of anticipation at the sight. she leans forward and crawls over his sleeping form, straddling him, hands coming to his chest.

she watches as his head turns and his arm falls from his face, eyes blearily blinking open.

his eyes meet hers, a stunned expression on his face.

carmen thinks he’s dreaming at first—the sight above him all too similar to the filthy dreams he had been having lately.

“uh, hey” he hesitates, voice deep and raspy, heavy with sleep.

“hi,” she whispers.

his eyes scan over her form and take in her position. her lack of clothes. she can feel him growing beneath where she sits.

the girl smiles, giggling softly.

a lazy smirk grows on his face at this, and he closes his eyes again.

“fingers not doin’ it for you anymore?”

“shut up,” she retorts, slightly embarrassed. she hates how he knows. “i just wanted to…come see if you were sleeping well,”

carmy opens his eyes again and his smirk morphs to a grin, arms folding behind his head.

“i was” he confirms, lazily blinking, “but then i got, uh, woken up.”

“sorry” she sweetly exhales, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “i, um…” her eyes rake down his handsome face, losing her lame excuse completely. she’s silent, zeroed in on his lips with an overwhelming urge to kiss him. she watches them morph to a smile.

“c’mere,” he whispers, tilting his chin up a bit. she follows his command, almost as if in a trance, leaning forward to capture his lips in a gentle kiss.

it feels blissful, almost like everything besides the two of them fades away.

soft kisses become deep and the gentleness seems to fade as soon as it starts. the pair mutually quicken the pace of the kisses. they become messier, more desperate.

the girl leans into him, hand coming to the side of his neck, the other caressing his collarbones.

carmy chases her increasingly desperate kisses, gripping her hips with both hands, cherishing the feeling of her skin.

the girl slips her tongue into his mouth and gently moans at the feeling, with which he reciprocates, indulging in the taste of her. his fingers press into her bruisingly.

she rocks her hips against him. the sensation shoots a spark through her spine, so she continues to rock back and forth, grinding against his bulge, moaning softly into his mouth.

carmen kisses her roughly, gripping her hips tighter, pulling and pushing her across the length of his cock.

her panties feel slick, core feels tight, beginning to speed up her gyrations. she can feel the head of his cock through his briefs, and quickly becomes lost in the pleasure, kissing him with a ferocity she hasn’t felt in a long time.

the sensation is incredible to carmen, becoming more pent up by the second.

she bucks her hips wildly. it feels so fucking good.

he mindlessly tightens his grip on her hips further, and her kisses quickly stop. hips stop. with a sharp inhale and a soft “ow,” her hand comes to his wrist.

he immediately releases his grip, eyes snapping open.

“shit, i’m sorry,” he hurriedly apologizes, smoothing his hands over the yet-to-appear bruises—a reminder of why he had tried to force himself to take it slowly with her. “y’okay?” he couldn’t help but feel guilty.

“mhmm,” she confirms, leaning down to give him a soft kiss of reassurance. “so strong,” she murmurs into his lips. he releases the breath he was holding, hands still on her hips.

“can hardly fuckin’ control myself with you.” he admits guiltily.

“then don’t,” she replies softly, sitting upright.

carmen’s hand falls over his face, sighing. his fingers card through his messy hair, eyes scanning over the girl. a soft smile twitches at the edge of his lips.

the young woman sucks in a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves from the moment. her fingers thread under the edge of her tank top, and without saying anything, she slowly peels it over her head.

carmen groans at the reveal, and she feels a twitch underneath her. his hand comes to grab the side of her waist, thumb stroking over her stomach. he stares at her breasts in awe, trying desperately to memorize the dreamlike sight above him.

“you’re beautiful,” he marvels, hand sliding up her stomach to her ribs, “y’know that?” fingertips grazing the underside of her breast.

goosebumps rise on her skin from the light touch.

“touch me,” she tells him impatiently, pushing her chest out further as to emphasize.

the man lets out a small scoff at her tone, but gives in, cupping her breast and giving it a soft squeeze. he runs his thumb over her raised nipple, giving it a gentle pull.

she exhales harshly. it feels as if her blood had become hot, biting down on her lip to refrain from making noise.

carmy brings his hand to her other breast and repeats: a soft caress, then squeeze, then a tug of her nipple, harder this time. she bucks her hips at this, whimper muffled by the tightness of her teeth around her lip. carmen lets out a soft groan at the momentary friction.

he can feel the heat from her core over his thinly clothed erection as he touches her. the man marvels at her flushed skin, the curve of her breasts, the shape of her stomach, the expression of pleasure on her face.

she finds herself aching for the friction of a moment ago, giving another testing buck of her hips. so good.

her hands plant on his chest and she continues to slowly grind back and forth against him. the perfect angle causes her bottom lip to release from her teeth, a moan spilling out into the silence.

carmen keeps his hands pinned to his sides as he watches her closely, clamping his teeth together, clutching his fists. anything to keep himself from spinning her around and fucking her senseless.

the girl continues to grind against him, one hand planted on his chest and the other coming up to grab her breast. she’s completely blissed out, but carmen feels hungry—her teasing movements not fully satiating. he can feel her wetness begin to seep through and slick the fabric of his boxers.

“jesus, you’re fuckin’ killing me,” he strains, feeling his patience wear thin, “do something.” sounding almost like a plead.

she smiles, head falling back in pleasure, continuing to chase her high. her eyelids flutter at the pleasure, rocking back and forth.

carmy groans her name, followed by a “c’mon.”

“ask nicely” comes her taunt, followed by a breathy laugh, continuing to pleasure herself.

carmen decides he’s done playing with her. he plants his arm on the bed and sits up quickly, pushing her back against the bed, watching her eyes snap open to protest the loss of pleasure.

“quiet,” he demands, cutting her off. she shuts her mouth, a look of disappointment on her face. he dips down to nuzzle her neck and hide his forming smile, peppering gentle kisses into her skin. her smell is almost intoxicating. carmen grips her waist as he kisses her neck slowly trailing down to her collarbones. he hooks his thumb into the side of her panties and shuffles them down her thighs.

the girl breathes heavily, skin tingling in the wake of his touch.

the man dips his hand into her panties, fingers slipping between her folds, feeling her wetness.

“fuck,” he growls into her neck, “all this for me?” beginning to slowly circle her clit, the noise of her slickness like music to the man.

she stays quiet, eyelids as heavy as her breathing.

“hm? c’mon” he pushes, coming up from her neck and looking her in the eye, “tell me, pretty girl.”

the name causes her chest to flutter, allowing a soft whimper to spill from her lips. the intensity of the sensation in tandem with his eye contact makes her feel dizzy. makes her less embarrassed about showing appreciation.

“s’all for you, carm” she softly moans.

his fingers continue softly circling around the bundle of nerves, every few moments dipping into her opening to collect more wetness.

she teases down his abdomen and slips into his briefs, wrapping around his erection.

carmen softly groans, then inserts a finger, beginning to drag it in and out along her walls. she softly gasps at the feeling, and he can feel her squeeze his cock.

“more,” she demands softly, starting to stroke him.

he obeys, inserting a second finger, feeling more resistance now. she gasps.

he plants a gentle kiss on her cheek, then shuffles down to kiss at her breasts. down where she couldn’t stroke him anymore. the loss of her touch feels cold, so he fucks her with his fingers a little faster to make up for it.

as he sucks her nipple into his mouth, she can feel her juices trickling down her thighs and onto the bed, a bit embarrassed about the mess she can feel herself making on his sheets.

wet squelching sounds start to reverberate through the quiet room as carmy speeds his fingers up, softly nipping at her perked bud. the girl claps a hand over her mouth, muffling a boisterous moan.

“hand off,” he growls, sending her a warning glance. she ignores him and closes her eyes, continuing to muffle her sounds of desperation, biting into her hand.

his jaw clenches, and he pauses his movements. with his free hand he grabs her one wrist, then the other, and pins them over her head.

the girl’s eyes snap open, and she attempts to fight against his single-handed hold. she gives her best effort, but in her weakened state her struggles do nothing against the man’s strength, so she just huffs.

carmen scoffs at this, towering over her, beginning to slowly resume the movement of his fingers inside of her. he watches her face closely as he continues—studying the way her eyelids flutter, how her lips part, how her breathing picks up again, how she tries so desperately to hold onto her moans by biting into the flesh of her lips.

he draws his fingers completely out of her, then slowly reinserts them, curling upwards and beginning to rhythmically thrust them into her. she releases the hold of her lip with a loud moan, unable to stifle it at the new positioning of his fingers. he smiles, having accomplished his goal. his fingers curl further into her.

the girl begins to feel a bit of panic, an intense and unfamiliar sensation building up within her stomach. not an orgasm, but a deep, hot, wet feeling. with her arms pinned above her head, all she can do is take it.

carmen speeds up the motion, thumb coming to brush against her clit.

“fuck!” she yelps, arching into his touch. her mouth falls open, unashamed moans starting to pour out. his pace is relentless, and it feels too good to try and refrain anymore.

“yeah?” he asks, tone cool and calm, getting a sick type of pleasure from watching her unravel beneath him. he curls his fingers up further, hand becoming soaked with her arousal.

“mmh-carm, that’s-” she’s cut off by another whine, gaze flickering down to where he was rhythmically pounding his fingers into her. “ah-you…mmmh sogood,” she babbles, completely lost in his touch.

carmy feels his composure crumbling, groaning at the way she was reacting.

“c’mon, baby, let go,” he growls, palm sloppily smacking against her clit as he drives his fingers into her. her eyes roll back a bit, and with a final few curls of his fingers she does exactly what he says and lets go, giving into the sensation. the hot, wet tightness within her core bursts, flooding throughout her whole body.

“fuuckk” she hears him groan, his voice seeming distant.

her muscles convulse with orgasm, eyes tightly shut and mouth open. everything feels so wet. his fingers slow in pace, remaining deeply lodged inside her, releasing the grip of her wrists from overhead.

it seems as if the only thing she can concentrate on is trying to remember how to breathe. as she struggles to blink her eyes open, she’s met with a handsome face that stares back at her with what seems like both shock and amazement.

“whathappened?” she jumbledly breathes out.

he just groans again, dipping down to kiss the girl, big hand grabbing her face. his fingers are wet and sticky on her face. she eagerly reciprocates his kiss, hands coming to feel his chest, a pulsing in her lower stomach.

carmy plants a kiss to her cheek then sits upright again. she pushes herself up onto her forearms, attempting to reorient. her gaze comes to where he kneels, then falls on the dark spot on the sheets that surrounds them, as if something had spilled. her brows furrow as she pulls her eyes back up to carmy. his face is flushed and pupils dilated, gripping onto the backs of her thighs.

“you, uh…. god that was fucking hot,” he says with an unwavering stare.

“did i do that?” she gasps, “fuck, i’m sorry, i’ve never-” hand coming over her mouth in embarrassment, “i’ll wash your sheets. or buy you new ones.” her face turns hot and red.

he swipes his fingers over her opening, collecting her wetness, then sucks them into his mouth.

her eyes widen, watching him savor the taste of her.

“carm, say something,” she begs, still partially mortified.

“you taste good,” he replies, pulling her closer by her thighs. there’s an animalistic glint in his eyes.

“not about that,” she looks away out of embarrassment.

“m’gonna make you do it again,” he strains, pulling down the band of his boxers and allowing his erection to spring free. he works to shuffle them down his thighs.

her short-lived embarrassment dissipates completely at the sight of his cock. he’s thick, and slightly curved, throbbing with arousal, emerging from a dark bush of curls. her breath hitches, and she almost moans at the sight, instinctively spreading her legs further apart for him.

carmen grabs a pillow and lifts her legs, tucking it under her tailbone and pulling her in closely. he begins to glide his head in between her folds, collecting her slick. he nudges against her clit, and she gasps, covering her mouth.

“y’okay?” he checks, locking eyes with her. she nods her head.

“mhm, just….be gentle,” she pleads, “please,” slightly intimidated by his girth.

“i will be,” he nods, giving her a sincere look, “promise.”

she nods back, a signal to go ahead.

carmy pushes against her opening, slipping his head in slowly. they release a breathy moan in tandem.

he pushes forward until he finds resistance at less than halfway in.

“fuck,” she pants, hand flying up to grab his wrist.

“doin’ so good,” he praises, “tell me when you want me to keep going.”

the girl nods, eyes shutting tightly, trying to adjust to the imposing stretch. she releases her grip on him, trailing her fingers down her body to rub circles into her clit. she feels herself relax a bit at the pleasure as carmy’s eyes stay glued to her, watching her every move with enthusiasm. her slow circles speed up ever so slightly, letting out a gentle moan, droopy eyes coming to meet those of the man above her. it feels so good, and she clenches around him. the only thing that would make it better would be-

“kiss me,” she pleads.

he studies her swollen lips, flushed face, sweet doe eyes—he can’t help but mindlessly obey, caging her with his forearms.

the intoxicating mix of carmen’s kisses and the work of her fingers help her relax. the grip on his wrist loosens, and carmen is able to fully sink in. he pushes forward until his hips are completely flush with hers, moaning into her mouth. she matches it with a gasp.

the girl can’t believe how full she feels. It’s almost hard to breathe, nails digging into carmy’s bicep. he pulls away from the kiss, thumb coming to stroke the side of her cheek.

“doin’ okay?” he asks softly.

she has to take a moment to find her words, overcome with a dizzy head high.

“fuck, it’s s-so big,” she stammers, both hands now gripping onto his biceps for dear life.

he can’t help the surge that runs through him at her words, small smirk tugging at the edge of his lip.

“yeah?”

“mmhmmm.”

“too much f’you? want me to take it out?” he teases, knowing full well what her answer would be.

“no!” her eyes snap open “so good, carmy. want you to fuck me.”

he groans.

“give it a sec. play with ‘yrself some more. fuckin’ gripping me down there.”

her chest flutters at the sound of his voice—the low growl of it that seemed to resonate through her bones.

“please,” she begs, pressing a kiss to his lips, “want it so bad,” another kiss, “i can take it.”

he tightens his jaw, feeling his cock twitch inside of her at the desperation in her tone.

“you tell me if it’s too much, okay?” he asserts, hand grabbing her waist to steady himself, sitting up. she eagerly nods her head.

carmy begins to slowly ease out, his length dragging along her tight walls, then pushes his hips forward gently, sinking into her fully. her mouth falls open, a whiny breath spills out.

he repeats this again, this time snapping his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt. her hands smooth up his biceps and wrap behind his neck, tangling in his hair. she pulls him down to her lips, and kisses him with frenzy, then peppers kisses along his cheek and jawline.

the man swears he’s miraculously died and gone straight to heaven, even though he hadn’t been to church in ages.

the way she smells, the feeling of her lips trailing along his face, the fucking vice grip her pussy wrapped around him with. it’s all like heaven.

he moves slowly, rolling his hips to softly thrust in and out of her.

the girl responds enthusiastically, bucking her hips up to accommodate him further. it feels incredible, but it’s not enough for either of them.

he wants to be gentle with the girl, try and counter the thoughts that pop in his head whenever he looks at her. he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to stop himself if he gives in.

so he forces himself to take it slow. and gentle and sweet.

but the girl keeps bucking her hips up to take more of him, frustrated that he won’t get the message.

“faster,” she whines, placing a few more kisses along his face.

he ignores her, leaning down to nuzzle her neck. his hand trails downwards, wedging it in between them to lightly rub her clit. his pace stays lazy and soft, kissing her neck.

“carmy,” she complains, fingers carding up through his hair, “give it to me.”

he just ignores her, slowing the pace of his fingers and biting her neck.

she gasps and yanks his hair.

“fuck me already,” she huffs, pout on her lips.

he growls into her neck, then pulls back, looking at her. his eyes had grown dark, eyebrows slightly twitching. a completely different expression than the soft one he wore previously.

this one was much hungrier.

he sits straight up, pulling her legs to be flush with his shoulders, then he practically bends her in half, hands pressing down on the backs of her thighs.

she flushes at the new position, feeling entirely vulnerable, but too overwhelmed with lust to do anything about it. she goes to say something, but he cuts her off by snapping his hips against hers, driving himself deeply inside of her. her mouth falls open into an o shape, taken aback by the sudden change in angle. she can feel every inch of him this way, so fucking full she can’t even seem to form a thought.

carmen eases out of her, then sinks inside again, hips slamming against hers. this time she lets out a throaty gasp, eyes droopy, completely transfixed by the sight of him above her. his chest was flushed, a light sheen of sweat glistening on his skin. she wanted to lick it off. his messy curls bounce in time with his movements.

he pulls back again, and snaps his hips forward, releasing a deep groan.

she feels too full to make any sounds besides the needy gasps that pour plentifully from her lips.

carmy smirks down at the girl, studying her blissed out expression with a sense of pride as he continually thrusts into her. his eyes fall to watch her breasts bounce in conjunction with his thrusts, and he can’t help but grab one, squeezing, brushing his thumb over her perked nipple. she arches into his touch.

he increases his pace, hips beginning to drive into her harder.

she can feel herself slipping into a cloudy haze, the consistent slap of his hips against hers almost meditative, a red hot pleasure circulating through her whole body.

“look at me,” he orders, tweaking her nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

she didn’t even realize she had shut her eyes, forcing them back open to meet his gaze.

he slides his fingers down her stomach, over her pubic hair, coming to rub her clit. slick noises fill the room as his movements are eagerly met with more and more wetness.

she studies his handsome face, watches how his eyebrows scrunch, how he bites down onto his lip and flares his nostrils ever so slightly. she wants to have his babies, she thinks in her haze. in that moment she would willingly take anything he gave her.

she opens her mouth to express her gratitude, but all that comes out is a loud moan.

“yeah? y’like that?” he asks, hiking her leg further up onto his shoulder.

“mm-hmmm,” she cries in between breaths, wincing at how deep he was going, but somehow wanting even more.

“tell me, pretty girl. use those words.” he plants a kiss to the inside of her ankle and keeps thrusting into her.

“fuck,” she cries, “so good, carm. sososo good.”

his circles around her clit speed up, and the pleasure pushes her to continue, embarrassment out the window.

“love it,” she gasps, “i love it. you fuck me so good,” beginning to babble, “please don’t stop. please don’t ever stop.”

a grin breaks his face at this, and he drives into her faster, a wet slapping resounding through the room. he kisses her ankle again, then her foot.

“whatever you want,” he tells her sincerely. “fuckin’ perfect, y’know that?” another kiss on her foot, “like you were fuckin’ made for me.”

she opens her mouth, but her rationality kicks in and thinks it might be too early to ask him to put a baby in her. she opts to take a less direct approach.

“cum in me,” a breathy plead, “please,” locking eyes with him. he gives a slight shake of his head, surprised by her words. surprised by how mindlessly he wants to obey.

“fuck,” he enunciates, “you know i can’t.” the justification of why barely makes it to his mind, overcome with the flood of arousal from her words.

“i want it,” she whines. her legs slip from his shoulders and wrap around his back, pulling him in close. he releases a groan, sinking further into her, slowing his movements and beginning to punctuate his thrusts. he leans down and kisses her neck.

“i said no,” he growls, “be fuckin’ good.”

she bites his shoulder. hard enough to sting.

“ah-f’you keep acting like a brat i’m gonna fuck you like one,” he warns, hands holding her firmly in place.

she grins, then bites him again, this time on his bicep. and much harder.

carmen feels himself run out of patience, sitting up and pulling out of her. he shuffles off the bed and stands, and before she can open her mouth to complain, he yanks her up by the arm. his hand presses on her upper back and shoves her into the mattress, grabbing her hips and lifting her to arch to his liking.

the girl feels slightly humiliated by the vulnerable position, yet finds it does nothing but make the tingling heat of her body intensify.

she notices her cheek is wet—he had shoved her face first into the spot she made earlier. at this, she lets out an unenthusiastic groan.

“yeah well, i told you to fuckin’ behave,” he responds, collecting some of her slick and coating it over his cock, stroking a few times. “was tryin’ to go easy on you.” he begins to press the head into her, eliciting a breathy sigh. “but you don’t want me to, huh?” he sinks the rest of the way in. “you’ve been wanting me to give it to you rough, yeah?”

he buries himself to the hilt, and she gasps, feeling fuller than she ever thought possible.

“no,” comes her breathy protest into the mattress. he wasn’t wrong. at all. but she had too much pride to admit it, so instead she argues.

carmy scoffs.

“yeah? that why you’re fuckin’ soaking me? cause you don’t want it?”

he pulls back, dragging along her walls, then thrusts forward. the girl yelps, and takes a deep breath.

“i’m not,” comes her sharp retort, forearms coming to the bed and pushing herself up.

carmen drags his fingers up her inner thigh, collecting some of her juices that had trickled down, wordlessly holding them in front of her so she could see.

her cheeks feel hot. she doesn’t say anything, instead turns her face away from his glistening fingers. he grabs her jaw and pulls her back, pushing his coated fingers into her mouth. the girl makes a noise of disagreement, but doesn’t move away. she swirls her tongue around him, sucking his fingers clean.

he was right, she does taste sweet.

carmy drags his fingers out of her mouth slowly, catching her lip on the way down, and wraps around her neck, pressing gently. only enough to remind her who was in charge.

she willingly submits to the pleasure, arching back against him, growing impatient with his lack of movement.

she begins to ease herself forward, then rock back onto him selfishly, working to help alleviate some of the pressure that had built within her.

he lets her, for a moment, admiring the way she bounces against him, watching as she desperately tried to satiate herself.

he leans forward to plant a kiss to her cheek, fingers still wrapped around her throat, and begins to drive his hips forward to match her movements.

“yes,” she cries, hoping to god he wouldn’t stop again.

he doesn’t, continuing to rhythmically thrust into her, filling her up and stretching her out. her hand flies down to her clit and begins softly rubbing, keeping in time with the movement of his hips. she can’t help the plentiful sounds that spill from her lips—sounds of motivation for the man.

carmen, on the other hand, clenches his teeth together tightly and anchors himself by gripping her hip with his free hand, leaning over her.

he’s wanted to cum since the second he slipped into her, actively working to refrain and make it last as long as possible.

her juices begin to flow uncontrollably, completely covering his cock, sticking to his pubic hair.

everything was wet, and hot, and felt so fucking good.

the man wants to stay in this very moment for eternity, he thinks.

a particularly deep thrust makes the girl cry out voraciously, a primal cry that seemed to ignite something in him.

his hand moves from her hip to her upper arm and he pulls her upright. she leans her head against his shoulder, and he wraps a strong arm around her torso, hand coming to hold her neck once again.

the girl can barely support herself, legs trembling as carmen beings to increase the ferocity of his thrusts. the new angle situates him impossibly deeper—that familiar deep, wet feeling of heat starting to re-emerge within her stomach. his free hand trails down to her clit to help her climb higher.

carmy’s thrusts begin to cause wet squelching sounds. she completely loses herself in the sensation, mind blank with bliss, feeling tears begin to leak from her eyes.

he grabs her jaw and plants a rough kiss on her cheek. his lips become wet with her tears.

“that feel good, baby?” he hums into her skin, bucking up into her relentlessly.

“so good, carm,” she cries, gripping onto his arm for dear life, “love it. so so good.”

“fuck” he growls, shifting his hips further up into her, eliciting a yelp from the girl.

“thank you,” she mindlessly moans, “thankyouthankyouthankyou.”

he grins, grabbing her jaw tighter. another rough kiss on her cheek.

“where’d that fuckin’ attitude go, huh?” plowing forward into her, biting her neck.

she just whimpers, body falling limp against him. he effortlessly holds her up right where he wants her and continues drilling his hips forward.

“carmy, i’m- ah,” her mouth agape, “‘sgonna happen again,” she warns. he maintains his relentless pace, skin slapping against hers.

“let it go, pretty girl. i got you,” he assures, face scrunching, muscles tightening, trying to keep his own orgasm at bay long enough to pull her through.

with a primal cry of pleasure, she does exactly what he says and lets go.

it’s a flood of heat through her body, a release so satiating she thinks she‘ll be addicted for life. her vision goes spotty, ears start ringing, mind becoming numbingly empty for a moment. her fingernails leave marks along carmen’s arm from how hard she grips, using him as her last remaining tether to reality.

her breathing becomes rapid, body overstimulated with his continual thrusts. it’s almost too much, and then it’s nothing at all, feeling him pull out with a loud groan. feeling warm ropes shoot across her lower back. feeling him gently lower her down onto the wet bed. feeling her legs start to shake as the orgasm begins to subside.

a few moments go by. she feels a cold wet rag clean off her back. she feels his hand rub over her ass, feeling it be squeezed. she doesn’t move. she can’t move.

“hey.”

his voice is so distant, sounding like he’s talking through a tin can. she feels him push her onto her side. she feels him smooth her hair out of her face.

she can’t seem to open her eyes.

she can’t even seem to breathe without panting.

her entire body feels tingly.

“hey,” comes again, this time a little closer, “y’okay?”

she can’t respond. It’s like she forgot how to vocalize.

carmen gently pats the side of her face. she doesn’t respond, so he does it a little harder. her eyes blink open at the soft smacks.

her eyes meet his. they’re so blue, hazed with a slight expression of worry.

“hi,” she whispers once she’s found her words. he’s so handsome, she thinks. his cheeks are flushed. his lips are swollen.

“hi,” he softly smiles, “y’okay? was that too much?”

she shakes her head no, a blissed out grin forming on her face.

“mm. i liked it. a lot,” she tells him earnestly.

“yeah? earlier you were saying you loved it,” he teases, smoothing her hair back behind her ear. she opens her mouth to respond but shuts it, rolling her eyes.

there was that attitude again, carmen thinks to himself.

“your bed is wet,” she complains, rolling onto her back and pushing herself up onto her forearms.

“who’s fault is that?” he asks, an eyebrow lifting.

she holds onto his bicep and pulls herself up, sitting on the edge of the bed. he sits next to her.

“yours,” she responds.

he scoffs.

“it is,” she huffs, head resting on his shoulder, “i’ve never done that before. it felt…crazy.”

the comment makes him feel big headed, a surge of pride and possessiveness that he’s the only one who’s ever made her feel that way. he doesn’t say it, though. just wraps his arm around the girl and kisses her head.

a quiet settles between them. the yellow of the streetlights through the window gives the room a dreamlike glow. the time on the clock shows that it’s an ungodly hour to be awake. carmen thinks of taking a personal day.

“wanna take a shower?” she asks softly, leaning up to kiss his neck, hand on his thigh.

“that-” he exhales as she nips his neck, “sounds really nice,” his own hand coming to cover hers. his were so big comparatively. another moment of quiet.

“i don’t think i can stand,” she admits, breaking the silence. he lets out a laugh.

the silky sheets wrap around entangled limbs, draping the two lovers in a soft sleepy haze.

the girl had to offer her own bed up for sleeping arrangements, given that carmen’s bed was completely soaked.

their legs intertwine, feet rub together, skin smooths against skin as they lay facing each other.

the cracked window allows an early november chill to sweep through the room. the girl gives a small shiver, and carmy pulls the blanket up over her bare shoulder, wrapping his arm around her back.

they remain in a comfortable silence, both nearly delirious in the early hour, but too giddy to fall asleep.

she studies his face in the close proximity, eyes smoothing over the small scar on his cheek, the light freckles that scatter his skin, the alluring curve of his nose.

it feels almost as intimate as their shared shower, where they had tenderly washed each other’s hair and studied each other’s nudity in the light. he had called her beautiful. she returned the compliment. he held her up in the shower on account of her shaky legs, kissing her lovingly under the stream of the hot water, fingers gripping onto her as if he was scared she’d vanish into thin air.

all that she was scared of happening had happened. she found herself completely infatuated with the man, the mere thought of him making her stomach flutter.

she tries to push it out of her mind, as she lay studying his face, that she only had a little over a month before she would leave chicago. as much as she tried to push it away, though, it came back.

she doesn’t realize she’s furrowing her brows until carmen reaches up to touch her forehead, smoothing his thumb over the scrunch.

she meets his eyes, and immediately feels a soothing sensation.

his hand slides down the side of her face and cups it, thumb rubbing over her lip.

“whatcha thinkin’ about?” he asks softly.

she stays quiet for a moment, not sure how to express herself, chewing on her lip trying to piece together her words. he gently pulls it from between her teeth, his eyes fixed on her face, studying every emotion.

she takes a deep breath.

“i really like you, carmy,” her admission comes as a whisper.

a tear escapes down her cheek, and she feels stupid because of it.

“hey,” he soothes, thumb swiping away the stray tear, “c’mere.”

he pulls her into an embrace, arms engulfing her smaller frame. he rubs her back, and presses a kiss to the top of her head.

“this about california?” the man asks after a moment.

she doesn’t answer, just nuzzles her face into his neck.

“we still have some time, yeah?” he consoles, “and it won’t be forever. you can come back and visit.”

he stays positive, partially to reassure himself as well.

“okay,” she murmurs into his neck, pressing herself closer to him.

she thinks it might’ve been a mistake to have started something she can’t finish.

it might’ve been a mistake to even entertain the idea at all.