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motorsportbarbie13 · 1 month ago

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The Princess & The Pilot - Part 2

In which Lando surprises you.

Warnings: nothing (mostly fluff. angst if you squint and are sensitive at the end ig) Pairing: Lando Norris x British!Princess!Reader Word Count: 3.5k

The Princess & The Pilot - Part 1 Master List

(this should go without saying but don't steal my work. you don't have permission to repost or translate or do ANYTHING other than reblog my work straight from my blog. kthanksbyeeeeeee)

positivelynottheprincess (private) posted

positivelynottheprincess new hair. new dress. lets get this (awards) party started yourbff MA'AM (respectfully) princecharming mum is going to have a fit over the back of that dress >>>positivelynottheprincess that's why she's not going to see it til I walk into the gala BROTHER. ladykensingtonpriv Windsor genes never miss >>>positivelynottheprincess miss your face. leave monaco and come back to me bby. >>>ladykensingtonpriv come visit meeeeeee!

“Mate, you’re drooling.” Oscar swipes playfully at Lando’s chin while shaking his head.

Lando swats at his teammates hand without tearing his gaze away from where you stand across the room talking to a middle-aged woman and her daughter.

"I'm sorry but it's kind of hard not to when she's over there looking like that. I mean, Jesus Christ." He hisses, sliding his eyes off of you and over to Oscar. Lando spotted you the moment he had walked into the large ballroom Saturday like you were a siren calling to a doomed sailor. Your hair was pulled back into a neat bun and the backless black satin dress you wore should really be illegal it looked so good. He was almost certain that if you were to cut yourself right then, you'd bleed royal blue.

"You're asking for trouble." Oscar warns, his eyes darting between Lando beside him and you across the room. "With the way you go through women, maybe pursuing an actual real life princess isn't the best idea."

Lando's head whipped back around to really glare at Oscar this time. "The fuck you mean, 'the way I go through women?"

The Australian levels a look at his British counterpart, brows raised as if to say 'you're really asking me that question?' and Lando blushes.

"Okay, fine. Maybe you're right but there's something different about her. We really hit it off earlier in the week."

Ever since the event a few days ago, Lando hadn't been able to get his mind off of you, the way you laughed as he took the car around the corners just a little too sharply, the way your smile lit up a room and everyone around you was just magnetically drawn to you. It was intoxicating just being near you and even though Lando had only spent a few moments in your presence, he was already craving his next hit.

"Well, don't look now but I think she's finally spotted us."

Lando and Oscar had arrived about twenty minutes ago and you had almost immediately noticed the driver's arrival. It was like the mood in the room shifted when he came through the door, a low burning fire stoking itself inside your belly the moment you laid eyes on him. If it hadn't been for the fact that you had been in the middle of a conversation with one of the award winners and her mother, you would have made a beeline to him, but your upbringing had taught you better.

As soon as you excused yourself from the conversation, you began scanning the room, knowing exactly who you wanted to see before the dinner started. Had you known Lando was going to be here, you would have pushed Sebastian a little harder with the seating arrangements and gotten yourself sat at the McLaren table.

The hum of hundreds of voices is just a faint noise in the back of your mind as you approach Lando and Oscar, who are both standing against the bar on one side of the room. Your dress swishes at your feet as you walk towards them and you silently thank Tilly, your stylist, for insisting on the backless black dress you were wearing tonight. You had originally wanted to go with something a little more conservative but Tilly was always giving you more bolder suggestions, insisting that despite you being a princess you were still a young woman with a 'banging body', as she put it, and deserved to show it off a little, even at official engagements.

"Lando!" You croon as soon as you're within earshot. Breaking all sorts of protocol rules, you accept the hug that Lando offers, sinking into the heat of his body when he wraps his arms around you. "I didn't think you were going to be able to make it. Zak said you were busy."

Pulling back, you're mesmerized by the bright blue green eyes the color of the Mediterranean Sea for a moment as you grin at him.

Lando shrugs, not wanting to admit that he had refused to come until he found out you were going to be here tonight. "Last minute cancelation so I got to come bug Osc for the night." He grins that little cheeky grin you've noticed he's so fond of.

"And here I thought you were coming just to see me again." You feign offense, but a smirk plays at the corner of your red lips.

The blush that blooms across Lando's tan face has you biting back a giggle. "Oh...well..." He stutters. Beside him, Oscar chuckles.

Before Lando has a chance to recover further, your brother steps on stage to begin the awards. With a wink aimed at Lando, you excuse yourself, telling the two drivers you'll find them after the awards.

The dinner goes off without a hitch and before you know it, your brother is saying his closing remarks and thanking everyone for coming. You have to do your 'closing duties' as Sebastian calls them and stand by his side near the doors to say goodbye as your guests leave. The fact that you hadn't had a chance to see or talk to Lando since before the dinner and awards weighs on you and you hope that you're able to catch him before he leaves.

You're chatting with one of the winners when you catch sight of a certain curly haired mullet that makes your pulse quicken. He's hovering near the bar alone, Oscar and Zak nowhere in sight. Once you're able to excuse yourself, you make your way over to where he stands. The way Lando watches you as you approach sends a shiver of anticipation shimmering down your spine.

Lando has spent the last fifteen minutes after saying good bye to Oscar and Zak just watching you. Watching the way you worked a room was one of the most impressive things he'd ever seen. The way you're totally engaged in conversation no matter who it is is something Lando's never really seen before and he craves watching you. He notices other things though, slight shifts in your expression as you move from one person to another. It's in the way your shoulders hitch up towards your ears a bit when you're not speaking to someone like you're tired or the way your eyes glaze over ever so slightly when you're listening to someone talk for a long time. If he hadn't been watching you like a hawk, he would have never noticed but it was so slight and so subtle that he was sure no one but him caught on.

Suddenly, Lando wanted to take you away from all of it. He could tell your mask was solidly in place and that you were good at what you did but that didn't matter to him. Just the thought of you being uncomfortable or anxious made him feel the same. You were so good at making others feel comfortable and were authentic with your care and attention but he knew that there was a bit of you, deep down, that didn't want to be here. That craved the quiet respite of a dark room and soft music. He knew that because he felt it too, more often than he cared to admit. Lando felt that the two of you had more in common than he first had realized.

"Waiting for me?" You flirt, leaning against the bar as the bartender pours you another glass of white wine. You're past your two drink limit that is customary for you at these kinds of events but the heady buzz it gives you while you talk to Lando is too tempting.

"Well, you did promise you'd find me after." There's that mischievous glint in his eye again.

"Did I?" You counter, enjoying the way it feels to have his entire attention on you. The heat curling in your belly tells you that you'd like to have more of his undivided attention on you, in private this time.

Lando nods, taking a sip of his beer. "I never forget the things a pretty girl says to me." He murmurs, taking a subtle step closer to you. The fact that you're this close to him in public, with your brother just across the room, doesn't escape your notice but you find it particularly hard to care, what with the way Lando keeps staring at your lips every time you speak.

"I'm sure you say that to all the girls."

"Only the ones I can't stop thinking about." Lando's voice drops an octave, the husky tone scraping roughly against your skin.

The blush that creeps up your neck and over your cheekbones nearly sends Lando into a tailspin.

For someone who spends a majority of her time speaking to people and making conversation out of nothing, you're rendered speechless at the way this man looks at you. You're not used to someone being so bold with their intentions as people are intimidated by who you are and who your family is. It's refreshing to be spoken to like a normal woman by a man that you're attracted to. It doesn't feel forced or fake either, just a man flirting with a woman who he thinks is attractive.

"I'm meeting a few friends at a pub after this, come get a drink with me."

The way he phrases it makes it sound like a command and not a request. Desire curls low in your belly and you want nothing more to say yes. Regret stings though, harsh and unwanted.

"I can't." You lament "I have to stay here until the last guest leaves. Royal duties and all that." You don't bother trying to keep the sadness out of your voice.

"Oh..." Lando doesn't bother hiding his disappointment either.

"But," You say quickly, reaching out so your fingers brush his elbow. "I'm free tomorrow night."

The pub that you suggest is one that you're a regular at so you know your privacy will be respected. The last thing you needed was the press getting wind of you spending time with known playboy and womanizer Lando Norris, even if his reputation didn't match who the man really was in real life. You knew better than most that quite often, the chosen narrative that the press ran with was very far from the actual truth.

Thankfully, your father had followed through on his promise to give you the day off so you hadn't had to cancel but your protection officers had insisted on following you to the pub even though you'd been there hundreds of times before. "This is the first time you're meeting this person alone, your highness. Your father would have a heart attack if he knew we'd allowed you to go out alone." Your head PO had reasoned, despite you arguing that you were literally meeting Lando Norris of all people, a man who was almost equally as famous as you were. In the end, you had compromised and the two officers that were assigned to you that night, Bradley and Nathan, had agreed to be discreet and sit at the bar without bothering you.

Lando had been the first to arrive at the cozy pub, happy that you had suggested someplace quiet and out of the way. The last thing he needed was Zak getting wind of him doing the exact opposite of what he had advised him to do. He sat tucked away in a corner booth, pint ordered for himself and a glass of wine ready for you, nervously tapping away at his phone to his best friend Max, who was on Oscar and Zak's side that this entire thing was a bad idea. Which made Lando want to prove himself to them even more. He wasn't just some stupid race car driver that only bagged models left and right. He could hold his own with you, a well educated and well bred member of the Royal family, thank you very much.

The bell over the heavy door chimed, announcing your arrival. Lando's head popped up as it had with every jingle of the bell, nerves grating on his usually cool demeanor. He wasn't quite sure what it was about you that had him so off kilter, but you made him nervous. He wasn't sure if he liked it or not but he wanted to see if he could figure you out.

Lando's mouth went dry when he saw you, dressed casually in a flowy floral skirt and creamy white knit jumper. For the first time since meeting, your hair was down and the only thing Lando could think about was running his hands through the thick waves to see if you liked your hair pulled.

Nerves sparked down your spine when you saw him waiting for you, eyes trained on his phone in front of him. His ignorance to your arrival hadn't lasted long and the moment you two locked gazes, your pulse sky rocketed. Be normal about this you chide yourself as you cross the pub. Go slow your mind begs, although your heart has different ideas.

"Hi Lando." You murmur into his neck when he pulls you in for a hug, his arms lingering around just a touch longer than necessary.

"You look good tonight, princess."

The way he says 'princess' like it's a nickname and not a formal title has butterflies taking flight in your belly.

You sit across from him, impressed that he ordered you your favorite wine, not knowing that he had asked the bartender last night what you had been drinking at the awards gala. The two of you fall into an easy banter, discussing everything from his life racing in Formula 1 to the degree in business and international relations you had just completed the prior spring.

Everything felt so easy with Lando, you noticed as you finished your second glass of wine. As the fuzzy haze that the alcohol washed over you, you were relieved and surprised at how normal this all felt. You weren't the 'savior of the monarchy' or the 'perfect English princess' here with him. You were just a 25 year old recent uni graduate spending an evening with a charming man you had met out of pure circumstance.

"I have a confession." Lando says once he's two beers deep.

You arch a perfectly shaped brow, wondering if now is when the other shoe drops. "Oh?"

"I'm kind of surprised you were allowed to come here on your own tonight."

Relief floods through you as a laugh bubbles up from the back of your throat. "Were you expecting I walk in flanked by a bunch of body guards?"

Lando shrugs, looking a little sheepish. "Kinda?"

The way you throw your head back and laugh has Lando mesmerized, the sound of it airy and light. He thinks he could spend the rest of his life making you laugh like that and never get bored.

Oh.

"Do you see that big guy over there? In the dress shirt sitting at the bar?"

Lando finds the man you're talking about sitting with his back towards you and nods.

"That's Nathan, he's my lead protection officer tonight." You point towards the door next, where another large man sits scrolling through his phone. "And that's Bradley, my second PO. He's already clocked that we're talking about him, don't let the eyes on the phone fool you."

Lando sits back, a bit blown away that these guys had been here the entire time and he hadn't known. It made him feel better though, knowing that you had been under their watch and protected the entire time. He thought back to the story you told him the first day you met, about the stalker. He wasn't a stranger to weird fan behavior, with how public he lived his life but as his eyes pinged back and forth from you to your protection officers, he realized your fame was on another level.

You sensed the hesitation in Lando then, a familiar look of intimidation and shock falling over his handsome face. You were used to that look, having seen it time and time again from new friends and potential boyfriends. Everyone was in love with the idea of you, the idea of being associated with you and what your life was but when the reality hit them? More often than not, they realized your friendship wasn't worth the price of being in your life.

"I come with a lot of baggage, Lan." You murmur, playing with the stem of your wine glass. You know what comes next and you brace yourself for it, regretting allowing yourself to get your hopes up that maybe, just maybe, he had been different.

Lando is quiet for a bit as he gazes at you, eyes soft and vulnerable. You try desperately to avoid looking at him, unable to face what you feel will be pity in his eyes. You've seen it so many times before. When people learn about how regimented and controlled your life is, how you can't step one toe out of line for fear of bringing the wrath of an entire nation down on your head. It's hard and you never want to ask another person to voluntarily take that on for you.

"That's okay." Lando says easily. His eyes finally find yours then because you've fond the courage to look at him then and they practically sparkle over at you. "We all come with baggage but sometimes when you have two people handling it together, the baggage becomes a little easier to handle all at once."

The spark that scurries up your arm when he reaches out to clasp your fingers in his is something you've never felt before.

"I thought you lived at the palace?" Lando looks at you sideways as you walk down the quiet street later that night. The pub where you had spent the last several hours was just a short walk from your townhome so when Lando had offered you a ride, you had told him you would just walk. He had insisted on walking you home then and you had of course accepted.

"I have apartments at the palace, yes but I mostly live here." You point to the a brick townhome that sits at the end of a quiet row. "It belonged to my grandmother but she gave it to me when I turned 18."

"My grandma gave me a watch when I turned 18." Lando grouses.

Not for the first or even second time tonight, you tilt your head back on a laugh and Lando thinks it's the prettiest sound he's ever heard. He's mildly concerned that he's becoming addicted.

You come to a stop at the bottom of your stoop, turning to face Lando, suddenly feeling shy. You hadn't expected this to feel as much like a date as it felt. When he had said 'drink' you assumed it would be a casual thing between two potential friends getting to know each other. What you hadn't anticipated was how natural it felt being with Lando, how effortless it felt to have his eyes on you.

"I had fun tonight." Lando says, taking a step closer to you. He knows that your protection officers are close by, far enough away to give you privacy but close enough to be able to do their job. It doesn't bother him as much as he thought it would though.

"I did too." You confess, sinking into the warmth you can feel radiating from his body.

"I want to kiss you." Lando is so close now you can feel the brush of his breath fan out over your cheek.

"Then kiss me." You breathe.

The first brush of his lips has you drowning in him. The plush press of his mouth on yours has your knees weak, reaching out to steady yourself by clutching at his dress shirt. Like everything with Lando Norris, the kiss is unexpectedly heated and wholly natural. The thought buzzes in the back of your mind that you could get used to this with him.

It's so dangerous.

Lando swallows your sigh when he licks into your mouth for the first time, needing to consume anything he can that belongs to you. You find yourself entirely forgetting about the world around you, not caring that anyone could see you making out with Lando Norris in the middle of the sidewalk. Somewhere, in the deep recesses of your brain, an alarm goes off but the way Lando kissed you silences any coherent thought outside of his lips on yours.

"Oh." You whisper when you finally pull back.

Lando runs his hand over his mouth, eyes playfully regarding you as if he's surprised. "Oh is right, princess."

God you were so glad your brother had gotten sick this week.

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#f1 #formula 1 #lando norris #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #lando norris fic #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris fluff

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legendary-pink-dot · 7 months ago

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Please, Mr Postman

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader

Rating: 18+ Explicit

Warnings: Unprotected PiV sex, butt play, creampie, oral (f receiving), and lots of sex toys. No ages mentioned or alluded to. Reader is married. There are themes of infidelity, blackmail and stalking, but Reader is fully consenting and willing. Mailman Joel is a sleaze, consider youself duly warned.

Word Count: 4.3K (by far the longest thing I've ever written, whew)

Summary: Every morning at 9am sharp, you take your coffee to the front room and listen for his mail truck.

Notes: Poking my nose out of my hiatus hidey-hole to write this as a gift for my very very dear friend @magpiepills for the prompt "Stole your mail and uses it to sexually blackmail you mailman Joel". I love you, my sweet Bat. 💜 Giant thanks to @for-a-longlongtime for the last-minute rapid beta read. Much love to my sluts for cheerleading: @youandmeand5bucks @exquisiteserotonin @arcanefox207 @sparklefarts38 @redhotkitchen I have never written Joel before, so please be kind. Thank you and enjoy.

Please, Mr Postman - Joel Miller x f!reader

Every morning at 9am sharp, you take your coffee to the front room and listen for his mail truck. The squeak of the rusted brake pads as he parks at the end of the block is a melody, as distinctive to you now as the chimes of the classic ice cream trucks from your childhood, eliciting a Pavlovian response of salivating over the treats it held within.

Life was easy and carefree at that age. You didn't have responsibilities, grown-up worries, or this present burden of being a Stepford wife to a rich man who occasionally did some illegal activities. He was kind to you and you loved him, desired him even, but despite being a criminal he was boring. He was not the adventurous, filthy man in bed you secretly hoped for. But you knew things about his work that made it dangerous to leave, and financially he made sure you were kept comfortable enough to not want to tell. So you stayed. And here you were, marooned in a leafy suburb, stuck at home all day and fantasizing about the hot new mailman. What a cliche you've become.

The mailman's name was Joel. And he really did command attention.

Salt and pepper hair that curled around the edge of his blue cap. Dark brown eyes that showed a few flecks of amber the rare times you've seen them up close. A strong nose with a neatly trimmed mustache and gorgeous facial scruff. Large hands that could football-hold an entire package in each.

And speaking of packages: his looked prodigious. It looked obscene what he was carrying around in those standard issue United States Postal Service shorts. You dreamed about it at night -- how thick his cock must be and how you'd lick it like those sweet summer popsicle treats -- as your husband snored beside you after giving you one pitiful orgasm and then immediately coming himself and falling asleep.

You never thought anyone could be attractive in such a dumpy grey uniform, but somehow Joel found a way.

In the summer heat he always rolled up the edges of his pleated shorts, a thick pocket chain clacking along his meaty thigh. Light hair dusted his tanned legs. His black leather belt was cinched tight, further emphasizing his delicious bulge. The sleeves of his polo shirt were similarly rolled and showed off well-toned forearms from all the lifting and carrying. In short: he was a dream.

But you'd never go further than look. You loved your husband, for all his faults. You'd even placed a big order of sex toys last week in the hopes he'd be willing to spice things up in the bedroom. The tracking app says it's out for delivery, and right on cue, Joel comes walking up your driveway cradling a large cardboard box in his hands. Damn, he looks good today.

"Mornin', ma'am," he drawls politely. You think he winks at you, or maybe it's just the sun hitting his eyes. "Got a big one for you today."

You move to take it, but he shakes his head. "It's heavy. Let me put it inside for ya."

The thought of him being inside your home makes you tingle. You don't even think to consider that postal workers aren't supposed to go past a customer's front step.

You hold the door open and Joel stomps through, leaving bootprints of dirt on your "Home Sweet Home" welcome mat.

"Ma'am? Where d'ya want it?" He sounds amused, and you realize with a start that he's been standing in your entranceway for an awkward length of time. You'd been too busy ogling his legs, and more, in those rolled-up shorts. Was it your imagination, or was he not wearing underwear?

"On the coffee table, please." You lead him to the sitting room beside the entranceway. It's your happy place, your sanctuary, the spot you have your morning coffee in as you listen for the siren song of his mail truck.

Joel gently places the box on the coffee table and turns to you.

"I'll just wait here while you check that everythin's in order."

"What… what do you mean?" You feel your cheeks heat. Fortunately the box was nondescript, but it did give off a brown paper wrapping porn vibe.

"It's insured for $700. Must be some expensive stuff. 'S my job to write a report if anything's broken."

Nervous sweat starts beading down your back. "It… it's okay… I can report online if there's a problem…"

"'S no trouble. Let's just take a quick peek." Joel's already pulled his keychain ceramic boxknife out of his shorts, slitting the box open before you can say a word.

You stand there mortified and unable to speak as Joel opens the flaps, pushes aside the cushioning packets, and stares at the huge assortment of boxed sex toys.

"Well, well, darlin'. What do we have here?" His voice is a mixture of amusement and something deep and growling. Predatory.

Your face burns in embarrassment. "You… you can go now," you manage to squeak. "Please."

"Don't think so, sweetheart. Gotta check that everythin's in good working order." His boxknife shicks open the first product, a G-spot vibe from the looks of the box. Just before he can unwrap it, you find your voice. You hope you sound self-assured and assertive.

"That's enough. Please leave. My husband will be home any minute."

Joel smirks as he continues to rifle through the box. "Naw. He won't. Just did my route on Pine Street and saw him gettin' busy with that blonde divorcee in the cul-de-sac. Miz Perkins, wasn't it? Big tits."

It's a gut punch, and it makes you forget that this suddenly skeezy mailman is in your home and looking at your new collection of sex toys. An affair? He wouldn't. Not YOUR husband. Not your husband who rarely wants to do anything interesting in bed…

"Sorry, darlin." Joel pulls you out of your thoughts. "Fuck that guy. Wanna have some fun?" He pulls the vibe out of the box and waves it in front of you with a lopsided smirk.

This is too much to deal with. Your head is spinning, a mixture of emotions running through you. Including lust, incredibly enough. This mailman appears to be the take-charge dominant you wish your husband was.

"No. Like I said, you can leave now." You manage to say it firmer this time despite the gushing between your thighs. "Just go."

"Think I'll stay," he says, crossing the space between you in one step and pushing you backwards onto the sofa. "Don't want me reporting your ol' man to the authorities, now do ya?"

"Wha… what?"

He chuckles at your comically large-eyed look of shock. "Yeah, know all about it. Been readin' yer mail," he says matter-of-factly. "He's shit at covering his tracks. Who sends fake invoices through the mail? With his real address too. Amazin' he hasn't been caught yet."

"You've been reading our mail?! I should report you!" Who is this guy?

Joel looms menacingly over your prone figure. You didn't dare move. "Sure, darlin. Postal employees got a responsibility to report crime. I'll be fine," he smiles, leaning back a little, but not enough for you to escape. "But the Postmaster General don't take too kindly to mail fraud, or those aidin' and abettin'. That's a felony."

"But it's not a felony for a mailman to read people's mail?"

"Tell you what," he drawls, still in that matter-of-fact tone that should be so very wrong in this situation. He rifles through the box and pulls out a hot pink butt plug, wiggling it at you. "You're gonna let me try out some of these toys on ya, and I won't report him."

Blackmail shouldn't turn you on, shouldn't turn anyone on, but it does. You're only human, and besides, you definitely don't want to go to prison. You can't control your reaction as your upper half shrinks back into the sofa while your lower half stretches out towards Joel, the hem of your sundress hiking up like it has a mind of its own. He gives you a wolfish grin and rests a broad, heavy hand on your knee.

"Jus' what I thought, sweetheart. Seen you watchin' me out the window every mornin'. You been wantin' me to stuff your pretty little mailslot, haven't ya?"

A whimper escapes your throat. "Yes. Please," you whisper, thighs sticky between your panties and suddenly aching.

"Okay, honey. Gonna start easy with this lil' thing." He holds up a clit sucker, shaped like a penguin with a little pink bow around its neck, and switches it on to test it. It springs into life immediately. "Ah, great. Love how companies pre-charge things now-a-days."

How can he be so conversational about this? Does he blackmail all the married women in the neighbourhood? Well, maybe just the ones who have something to hide. Like you. You silently thank the heavens for sending you an attractive skeeze, at least. And Joel is so very, very attractive.

You spread your legs for him.

He ruches your sundress up your thighs and whistles appreciatively, the sound going straight to your core. "No panties? And gushin' out of that tight little snatch already? Didn't take ya for such a filthy girl."

"It's… it's hot out," you stammer, unable to think straight.

"About to get hotter," he smirks again, and damn that attitude is doing things for you. "You ready, sweetheart?"

You nod, and he keeps eye contact as he nestles your clit into the little penguin's mouth and switches it on.

Your back arches and you nearly scream out loud.

The sensation is warm, and there's no direct contact but it's like your clit is being gently suckled. You've never felt anything like it. It's only been three seconds and your hips are already squirming to chase more.

His hand presses lightly on your hip to give you something to brace against as he clicks the intensity button up a couple notches, and it's like waves upon waves of the absolute perfect pressure on your clit. The buildup in your core is so fast that you don't even realize you're coming until it's almost over. You also hadn't noticed that you'd grabbed his muscled forearm and sunk your nails into it, leaving little half-moon indentations in his tanned skin.

"That was… wow." Your gasps echo around the quiet sitting room. Joel doesn't say a word, just reverently watches your pussy pulse and gush out a few drops of slick. "Thanks." You wish it had lasted longer and were sad it was over. Oh well, a nice memory for the next time you think about Joel, or try out some of these toys with your husband.

You start to push your sundress down, assuming he'll leave now and half-grateful for it, but he grabs your shoulder and forces you back down into the pillows.

"Where you off to? I'm just gettin' started with you, darlin'."

"But…."

"But nothin'. Ain't done till I say so."

All you can do is stare at him, unsure if you should be angry, turned on, or plotting an escape.

He undoes his leather belt and slowly, threateningly, slides it out through the loops on his uniform shorts. "Don't make me use this, sweetheart. Gonna be a good girl for me now, ain't ya?" The depth and tone of his voice say he isn't joking.

You gulp, still tingly from your rapid orgasm. And ready for another one, you think as you make eye contact with Joel, feeling a bit bolder now. We're here, I let him do that much already, might as well go for it.…

The penguin gets discarded as Joel carelessly tosses it to the carpet and takes the hot pink butt plug out of the box again, running a finger along the curve of its long but slim length. "Hmmm. Pretty. This for you, or your husband?"

"Uh… me…"

"Ah, ah" he tuts. "You really are a nasty girl. You take one of these before?"

You shake your head, suddenly shy. You hadn't even wanted your husband to know about the butt plug, thinking he was so sexless that he'd be disgusted. Apparently not, if he's railing Ms Perkins with the big tits over on Pine Street.

"S'okay. Gonna slide it in real good for ya." While you shove a little sofa pillow under your hips, Joel combs through the box on the coffee table and pulls out a bottle of lube. He pops the cap and drizzles some over the plug, and you gulp again imagining it inside your ass. A faint scent of synthetic vanilla fills the air and for some reason it calms you, allowing you to relax your muscles as Joel slides the plug along your crack, rubbing and smearing the lube around your asshole.

"You like that?"

You do. You really do.

Your little moan spurs him on and he gently presses the generously lubed tip of the plug against your hole, just the teensiest bit. You look up at his face, that stupidly attractive face of a skeezy mailman who is sexually blackmailing you, and find yourself desperately wanting to feel his scruff on your inner thighs.

Apparently he's a mind reader, too. He smiles and lowers his head to your crotch, and licks your clit with his wide tongue at the same moment he presses a bit more of the plug into your ass. You nearly scream for the second time in minutes.

"That's it, honey," he breathes against your core, wiggling the tip of the plug in and out and hitting nerves you didn't even know existed back there, making your hips jump involuntarily. "Openin' up so nice for me."

A few more mind-numbing, distracting licks of your clit and the plug slides all the way in with a little pop. You're equal parts turned on and proud.

"Well, ain't that a pretty sight," Joel whistles appreciatively. He pulls up to sit back and just stares at you all spread out on the sofa with one leg hiked over the back, your sundress balled up over your stomach. He taps the pink flared base of the plug a few times like he's idly flicking away a cigarette. It wiggles inside you and you squirm and squeal. Actually squeal. You're still mad and weirded out and other things, but you're feeling too good to give up now and you're starting to not care how easily you're caving to this man.

"Lessee what other treats we got in here." He rifles through the box again. His face falls into a comical droop of sadness and he sighs loudly, holding up a little box marked 'Girth Extender Sleeve'.

"Oh, sweetheart. I'm so sorry." The condescension in his voice shouldn't turn you on this much. "Yer old man got a tiny dick? Not fuckin' you proper? No wonder you been starin' at me every day, desperate for a real man."

Before you can protest -- he's not tiny, I just wanted to spice things up, well okay maybe he could use a bit of help -- he unzips his uniform shorts and pulls out his hard cock, holding it at the base so you can take a good look. "Got a special delivery for ya, baby."

Yeah, Joel definitely doesn't need any artificial enhancement.

His cock is thick. Not super long, but probably one of the thickest you've seen, outside the few porn films you watched when you were younger and more uninhibited. There's foreskin covering what looks like a large mushroom head, and a prominent pulsing vein running up one side. It all looks delicious, and you unconsciously lick your lips as he smirks at how you take it all in.

"You want it real bad, dontcha?" He fists himself a few times, his foreskin sliding on the downstroke to give you a peek at the thick head. "Yeah, you sure do. Never knew I had such a little slut livin' on my route."

Shuffling forward, he grabs your thighs and spreads them wider. The head of his cock feels impossibly heavy as he slaps it on your clit, making you gush a little with every hit.

"Joel, will you… can you lick me again for a bit?" Your squeaky voice is impossibly needy and pathetic.

"Naw," he says, flicking the base of the butt plug again and making your hips jump. The plug was so comfortable that you'd already forgotten it was in there. "Gotta finish my route. Can't talk to customers with my face smellin' of pussy, ya know. I'm representin' the United States Postal Service out there."

"Oh, does the USPS regularly fuck its customers too?"

"Sure does, darlin'. Bends 'em over and gives it to 'em hard with the price hikes every year."

He roughly pulls you up and bends you over the sofa arm, positioning you like the personal little fuckdoll you are for him.

"Got the next best thing though." He slips on a tiny purple fingertip vibe, your free gift from the toy company for such a large order. With such thick fingers, it looks like he's wearing an upside-down Ring Pop. It gives a loud rumble when he switches it on, and he laughs as he tugs his shorts down over his thighs. "Cheap ass shit. Hope the battery lasts. But it don't take you long anyway, right sweetheart?" He reaches around your hips, lifts your sundress and presses the vibe straight on your bare clit without any preamble, and your hips slam backwards into his crotch as you scream again, his cock jostling the base of the butt plug and sending shockwaves both up and down your core at the same time.

"Yeah. Thought so."

Amid the mixed sensations suddenly comes a new one: the thick head of his cock slipping into your cunt as he swirls the vibe around your clit, not letting it rest in any one spot long enough for your liking.

"… Wait! No condom?"

"Naw. You're on the pill, right?" He doesn't wait for your answer, as if he already knows.

Normally you don't enjoy this position but you're too far gone now, pushing your hips back and encouraging him deeper in, more than wet enough from all the playing to take him in.

"Greedy little slut, ain't ya?" He feeds you another inch, pauses, then another, torturously slow as you stretch around his thickness. "Tight little snatch feels so good. Miz Perkins with the big tits probably don't feel this sweet." Joel demeaning your husband like this and throwing the adultery in your face should make you mad -- at both of them -- but it only turns you on more, beads of sweat dripping down your spine as he slides all the way in to the hilt, giving you a few moments of grace to adjust to the size of him.

One strap falls down your shoulder, letting your tit pop out of your sundress and he palms it roughly, giving it an exploratory squeeze. The finger vibe is still buzzing and he swipes it across your nipple, the nubby texture chafing just before the point of pain. "Nice. You like that? Let's add somethin'."

Mentholated 'arousal balm' was another of your free gifts, and not something you'd ever thought to try. Joel twists open the little tin and dips the finger vibe in it.

"That smells strong, do we have to?" Wooziness hits you as the peppermint smell goes straight up your nostrils.

"Like I said, baby, gotta make sure everythin' works. Else I gotta do a return," chides Joel, tossing the tiny tin on the floor. You watch it roll under the baseboard heater as he grabs your hips roughly and repositions you. "Real fucking pain, returns. Lotsa paperwork."

He brings the now-mentholated finger vibe back to your clit, and two seconds later it feels like your entire pussy is on fire.

Thank goodness he didn't put any on my a--

Joel moves the base of the butt plug aside and presses the finger vibe against your asshole.

The menthol soaks into your tender membranes and it's so, so cold and hot at the same time. Your brain melts along with it.

Everything is lit up now and you squirm as he slides his hardness back into your pussy and gives a few experimental thrusts. "Tight fuckin' snatch," he mutters, your walls clenching around him in time with his finger flicking at the plug, your entire lower half burning but not in a terrible way. "But could be tighter." He suddenly pulls his cock out and you whine, loudly and needily.

"Please, Joel."

"Please what, darlin'?"

"Put… put it back in? Please."

"All in good time. Gotta give those walls an extra little stamp."

You look over your shoulder to see him drizzling lube into the girth sleeve and slipping it onto his cock. He's already so thick that it's a tight fit, the soft tube slipping off a couple times before he finally stretches it enough so it can slide all the way on, pulling it down so his large head pokes out of the top. You clench involuntarily.

"Umm. That's not gonna fit."

"Sure it will, honey," he drawls. "Didn't think you could take that pretty little pink plug, right? And look at ya now."

He's got a point.

"Gonna stuff that little slot full to the brim and turn ya into a size queen. Open wide, baby."

He's merciless as he slides back inside, at a curved angle since you're turned slightly to brace both your hands against the back of the sofa. The extender is smooth and feels just like his skin, and you're powerless to resist the incredible feeling of the extra width. He was exactly right: you felt full. With the thick pressure in your cunt pushing against the plug in your ass, you felt more stuffed than you ever had in your life, and what's more your pussy is still burning from the menthol balm. It was overwhelming but also glorious. In that second you knew it would be impossible not to think of Joel next time your husband fucked you, even if he wore this toy. Stupid sexy blackmailing mailman.

Baby animals had more stability in their legs than you do right now, your thighs spasming uncontrollably as Joel palms the vibe around your clit while holding almost half your waist in the span of his other large paw. He fucks into you hard from behind until you're so close to coming you can taste it. With the extender, his cock is hitting spots inside you that you didn't even know you had. A heavy chain pops out of the neck of his polo shirt and hits your nape with a loud clank as he slams into you from behind, the cheap poly-rayon blend of his polo shirt chafing your shoulders in a delicious burn as his chest presses close against your back and his hips smack against your ass, jostling the butt plug with every thrust.

whirrrrrr goes the finger vibe as the tiny cheap battery dies, and he slaps your clit hard with the vibe one, two, three times and you come, yelling for the nth time since he left his bootprints on your welcome mat that morning. His grunts are loud and lewd as he fucks you through it, easing up only to make his thrusts shallower so he can reach a hand between you and gently pull out the butt plug with a little 'pop'. He tosses it and the finger vibe onto your pristine off-white carpet, not even bothering to aim for the opened box on the coffee table.

"So fuckin' tight," he wheezes hoarsely, "I gotta extra big load for ya," and he presses his hips so hard against your ass that you almost fall over the sofa arm, his voice faltering as he groans and you feel hot spurts of his come coating the inside of your pussy, as deep as he can put it.

You slump forward onto the sofa and he pulls out, both of you heaving. The fiery balm has mellowed to a gentle tingle and your core is pleasantly warm. Stretched out. Fucked out.

"Welp, gotta get back to my route." It's been only a minute and his matter-of-fact conversational tone has already returned. You peer over your shoulder and watch him pull his shorts back on, rolling up the hems and slicking his belt back into the loops, tucking his polo shirt back in with practiced efficiency.

"Will I see you again?" You hate how pathetic you sound, and you must be a real sight too, half naked with a sweaty rolled-up sundress stuck to your back, your ass still up in the air like you're waiting for him to stick it right back in and rail you again immediately.

"Oh, I'm sure we'll be seein' each other again real soon," he says smoothly.

As you stand up, knees a little weak, a drop of cum drips down your thighs. "Glad I'm on the pill," you mutter to yourself as you pat down your wrinkled sundress and pause at the mess of packaging and boxes littering your sitting room.

"About that, darlin'." Joel smiles, pausing by your front door. "Miz Perkins over on Pine Street orders sugar pills and well, you know, packages get mixed up sometimes on the route. Might wanna check you got the right pills."

Joel slams the door and the mail slot squeaks rhythmically as you stand there, horrified, listening to him whistle a jaunty tune as he walks down your driveway and back to his mail route.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #sleazy mailman Joel #pedro pascal character smut #joel miller fic

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dearhargrove · 10 months ago

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Please pls pls write for Eddie Diaz🥺

Sleepover

Eddie Diaz x reader

summary You're on the way to pick up your son, Liam, but it's hard to get him to go home when he's begging to sleepover at his new friends house. Turns out you don't mind as much when you met said kid and his dad.

word count 995

tags fluff, reader simping over Eddie, kind of open ending

a/n I got this idea randomly so I hope you like this <3

part two

masterlist

“Liam!” You call out when you spot your eight year old son busy playing with another kid. Usually whenever he heard you he'd come running; with every year he turns older you expect his clinging to reduce but it never does. Not like you mind, he may be eight now but he's still your baby.

But today he just glances and waves before continuing to giggle and talk with his new friend.

You're surprised as he usually never stuck with one kid, most of the time he'd even stay by himself. It worried you, even when you figured he just preferred to be by himself and did it by choice and not because he was left out.

One of the teachers at the side shrugs with a smile after seeing Liam and his new friend.

You approach them and put a hand on Liams back before bending down and kissing the top of his head. “Hey, buddy. Did you make a new friend?”

He grins and nods eagerly, “Chris! We've been playing all day. He's my best friend!” You chuckle at the eager introduction and wave at Chris, who looked almost shy if not for the cute grin.

“Well in that case, it's nice to meet you, Chris.” He politely holds out his hand, “It's nice to meet you too, ma'am.” He says quietly and slowly. You melt on the spot and gently shake his hand.

Your son stands up quick enough to knock the top of his head into your chin, leaving you to grunt in pain as he excitedly bounces in his spot. “I have to sleepover at Chris' house!”

Your eyebrows raise as the two boys continue making plans about tonight. You don't want to be the killjoy but for one you had never met the other parents nor had they met you. Otherwise you would've easily agreed; you were just happy Liam had finally made a friend.

“Alright, boys, I'm afraid this won't work out… We don't even know if Chris parents are going to agree,” you say and pointedly look at your son who's about to pout (you couldn't resist him and you would not let him make you feel bad about making a reasonable decision).

“My dad will say yes. He always says yes.” Chris says seriously and pushes his glasses up with his index. You smile as both of them look at you with equally big, pleading eyes.

“I will say yes to what?”

You almost give yourself whiplash with how fast you turn around because whose voice is that sexy? You'd never heard anyone talking that attractive.

And surely when you look at him you basically faint. Brown hair that seemed to be a grown out buzz cut, brown eyes and white teeth with a grin that makes your heart actually stop for a second.

“Sleepover!” Liam yells and then turns shy when the man looks at him with a smile that should be illegal to look that good. “A sleepover? That sounds exciting.” He gets even more attractive in your eyes when he leans over and kisses Chris’ head in greeting. So he was great with kids too? Wow.

He then fixes his gaze on you and you do everything in your power not to fluster as he rakes his eyes over you and back up to look right into yours. “Hey, I'm Eddie. Chris is my son.” He extends his hand and you shake it before remembering to introduce yourself as well.

He smiles at you through it and if it wasn't for Liam gently clinging to your hand as he and Chris watch you and Eddie talk you'd have actually lost it.

“So these two want to have a sleepover?” The boys both yell in agreement and you laugh, shushing your son a bit. Eddie looks at you with a questioning look and you shrug your shoulders. He had something trustful about him and with the way he acted with both the kids he already checked a few boxes.

But still, this was your son and you wouldn't leave him overnight with - practically - a stranger.

“My dad is a firefighter, he will protect us.” Chris mentions and you look at Eddie in surprise. He chuckles a bit bashfully but nods, “I'm with the 118.” You hum in recognition, “I work at the dispatch center.” He looks surprised now and you chuckle as he comments, “That's a coincidence.”

After that conversation flows easy and after probably fifteen minutes is Liam who pulls your sleeve with an impatient pout. You coo and pick him up with ease, letting him wrap his arms around your neck as he sleepily rests against you.

“Chris is clingy too, I feel like I shouldn't be indulging him so much, but…” Eddie starts and you see him ruffling Chris’ hair with a fond look as the boy looks at his dad with pure adoration.

“It's hard to resist. Yeah, same here.” You hum and both of you laugh a bit.

The teacher takes note of both the kids being picked up and you start walking to the parking lot after getting the backpacks. Chris is on crutches you note and slow your steps for him to comfortably keep up.

“Sleepover?” Liam asks again after - you were quite sure - a nap. Eddie tilts his head and looks at you, giving you the chance to decide.

Wow. So far he's more than just a green flag.

“How about we do a few meet ups first?” You suggest and both boys groan but ultimately agree.

Eddie nods and after letting Chris into the car he turns back to you and holds out his phone with a small smile, “Just so we can, you know, organize their play dates.”

Your heart actually stops for a second before resuming twice as fast and you take his phone to put your contact in.

“I'll see you around.” You smile and wave, Eddie grinning too as he waves and gets in the car.

#911 fanfic #911 show #911 abc #911 fox #eddie diaz x reader #eddie diaz #Eddie Diaz fanfic #ryan guzman

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