#pascal lady

[ladyxgaga]

No lies detected! Lady Gaga on Paul Mescal and Pedro Pascal

Watch the full interview with Vanity Fair here

[modalities-of-care]

EG Colloquium 2022 - Opening of the Conference with Marc ABÉLÈS & Pascal LAMY

The European General Studies programme of the College organised this end-of-the-year colloquium entitled “30 years after the anthropological report on the European Commission: Where does anthropology stand and what does it tell us about the European institutions?” on 20 & 21 June 2022.

This is a talk between Marc Abélès and Pascal Lamy on European Anthropology. Marc Abélès presents the report he wrote 30 years ago, reflect on the different methods and processes used for the report and will put into perspective the key conclusions from this report within current context. Pascal Lamy also explains in a video why this report was ordered and the impact it had on the institutions.

[joelsknees]

[lady-djarin]

independent contractor

joel miller x f!reader (one shot)

fully inspired by this post

warnings/tags: no outbreak au, no sarah mentioned, but we can always pretend she’s at collage or something, infidelity by reader(reader’s hubby is an asshole), contractor!joel, age gap (late 20s/mid 50s) , masterbation (m), smelling of panties(?), sexting, oral (receiving), p in v (unprotected- don’t do that!!) general smut so children leave!! mdni 18+

word count: 6.1k

a/n: i understand not everyone is going to dig the infidelity thing so i get that, if you are not into that please just scroll on, thank you :)

* ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

It was a beautiful dress but damn if it wasn’t complicated, the back had all these complicated buttons and clasps to hold it closed. You had managed to get yourself into the thin fabric but just as you needed your husband to close the dress, he had conveniently disappeared. He had been dressed for the party for a while and had been running around the house trying to organize the vendors. It was all for some charity thing he was throwing through his company. He was the CEO of some big company that even after 5 years of marriage you still didn’t understand. Something to do with finance? Maybe.

“Hon? Are you up here?” You huffed as you realized he was not in ear shot. Your husband had a habit of doing this, leaving right when you needed him in favor of something he needed.

You can now admit to yourself that the marriage you were in was a little rushed. Ok, maybe more than rushed. You were engaged within three months of meeting and married in less than a year. The first year of marriage was amazing, he would shower you with gifts and trips and practically worshiped the ground you walk on. It now felt like he only did this to rope you in. He began to take multiple long ‘work trips’ every month and you soon found evidence of an affair (or multiple). Once, there was long hair all over his clothes that was definitely not his or yours along with red lipstick smudged on a white shirt. Was he not even trying to hide it or did he just not care?

You had always told yourself that ‘you’d never be with a cheater’ and you wouldn’t fall prey to men who used women. Well, after a quick marriage, that you begged your parents to go along with, you felt like you had nowhere else to go. Your parents would not be happy and would surely find a way to blame you, and all your friends were also his. So, you kept your head high as your husband did as he pleased. You were now a forgotten trophy on the shelf he felt didn’t need polishing anymore. So you did as you pleased, with his money. One of the things you liked spending his money on was renovations to the house that you were usually alone in.

Currently, you were renovating the other side of the house to become a library/craft area for yourself. The contractor was actually at the house doing a walk through before the party got started. He happened to hear you calling for your husband from down the hall and came to your rescue.

“Sorry to disturb you ma’am, I think he went downstairs,” he was looking down when he first walked in, probably to make sure you were decent. What a gentleman.

“Of course he did, uhg,” you fumbled with the clasps behind your back and failed to make a difference.

“I can go get ‘em for ya?”

“No that’s ok Joel, thank you,” Joel Miller, one half of Miller Construction. He had been so great from the beginning, knowing exactly what you wanted for the library, seeing your vision immediately. He was very much the southern Texan gentleman, ‘yes ma’am, no ma’am’, no matter how many times you told him you hated it. “and please, Joel. I’m not a ma’am.” Your smile drew his eyes up.

”My mama would kill me if she heard me call ya’ anythin’ but, ma’am,” he stepped into the room, already coming to help even with your refusal. “I’m more delicate than ya think, im sure i can handle some buttons,” he came up behind you in the mirror and his soft touch on your shoulder blade made you inhale. You held the dress against your chest making sure he had room to fasten the small clasps. You caught his gaze in the mirror that was fixated on the dip in the front of the dress.

He matched your smile.

His surprisingly nimble fingers secure every last fastening and it feels like you can hear your own heart beating out of your chest. It had been a long time since you were looked at the way Joel was looking at you. He was a handsome man, big and rugged but soft in his features. He had these deep brown eyes that you could get lost in and lips that would make a nun blush. He was affecting you in ways your husband hadn’t done in years, he was turning you on. A complete stranger was turning you on and you didn’t really feel guilty.

Did that make you a terrible person?

You know what, fuck it. Your husband cheated and left you alone in life, you were entitled to some flirting every now and then.

“There ya are darlin’,” dear lord, his voice. The deep southern drawl made your panties wet.

“Thank you… Joel.”

”Enjoy the party,” watching him walk away was the hardest thing all night, aside from having to laugh at all your husband’s bad jokes all night. All night your mind was occupied by the sexy contractor.

~

It had been about a week since the party and the library reno was well underway. Joel and his team, including the other half of Miller Construction, his brother Tommy, were working tirelessly. In that last week your husband had been in and out of the house at weird times. On this particular day he left early in the morning without saying so much as a word to you. You used the day to mope around on your phone or read but what kept stealing your attention was the attractive contractor.

His team wasn’t around so the house was truly empty, the quiet was starting to drive you mad. As you wandered up the winding staircase, you found a sweatshirt draped over the railing. That damn husband, he leaves shit everywhere. Without thinking much of it, you threw the hoodie on as you found the library under construction.

The sweatshirt smells like sawdust and something distinctly man. That's different from what your husband normally smells like. The thought of him buying new cologne for some mistress almost made your blood boil, if you truly loved him anymore it would.

The library was really starting to come together, the plans on the table laid out the new shelves and built in table being put in and you dreamed of the days you would spend in there. The rest of your day was spent inside, no husband in sight so you did what you wanted, camped out on the couch with snacks galore and bad tv. Your husband eventually came home, after midnight, to find you passed out on the couch. You were roused by him, he woke you to send you off to bed. He used to carry you.

“Hey, get to bed, it's late… New hoodie?” Your eyebrows narrowed and you looked at him confused.

“What? It’s yours?”

”No it's not, I don't work at ‘Miller Construction’…” his tone felt like sandpaper against your skin. Also, have you been wearing Joel’s sweatshirt this whole time?

~

You wore it almost every day. Refusing to even wash it, it would get rid of the smell. The smell of him. It was like a drug, anytime your husband left you alone in that big house you wrapped yourself in Joel.

The rumble of the engine told you someone was at the house, but the deep southern drawl was what told you it was Joel. You felt giddy, like a girl with her first crush. You were already wearing the sweatshirt because you were expecting him today. He was leading his team of guys up to the library, telling them what to get started on. You made your way up there, under the guise of greeting Joel and asking if they need anything. In reality you wanted to see his reaction to you wearing his clothes.

“Morning Joel, you guys need anything?”

His eyes nearly popped out of his head. He noticed right away, scanning the hoodie and his gaze set your skin on fire. You felt your cheeks heat up as he stepped closer, the air was thick with tension and you immediately felt the mood change. His lips curved up in the corner slightly as he lowered his voice.

He looked handsome as always, the salt and pepper in his beard and hair was somehow very attractive to you. He was older for sure but you’d be lying if you said that wasn’t part of the attraction.

“Nice sweatshirt you got there…,” you could practically feel his heart beating just inches from you. “Miller.”

You had to strangle down a breath hearing his voice drop an octave like that, teasing you. This was real… Joel Miller, your contractor, was flirting with you. And you liked it, a lot. Not only the blatantly wrong flirting but the fact that your husband could come home at any time. It was making your skin flush with arousal and it felt like he could sense it somehow.

“I can wash it and get it back to you,” you wanted to gauge how into this he was. He did not disappoint.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Jesus christ.

“Keep it sugar, looks better on ya anyway,” he left you there, finally with enough room to breathe without inhaling his intoxicating cologne. Holy shit, holy shit!

Your mind never strayed far from the older man, you seemed to fixate on the memory of him crowding you in your own home. The rest of the day went smoothly, you went about your business as the Miller Construction crew worked on your new library. You could hear the men working upstairs and every time you heard that one specific rumbling southern drawl your heart stopped for just a beat.

You were screwed.

~

Joel’s day could not have been longer, though he was the only one that noticed. The rest of the crew worked through the day, trying to get their tasks done sooner rather than later to be able to go home on time. Meanwhile, he was thinking about the pretty wife of the man who is paying him. He knew it was wrong but damn if it didn’t feel good. He saw the way your husband acted around you the last few weeks, he was engaged in every conversation except ones with you. Joel could even tell that the man was cheating, he clearly wasn’t trying to hide it. That’s really the only reason he was letting himself indulge with you, that and you seemed to be on the same page as him.

He knew he was in trouble, he had already memorized your features, your lips haunting him most of all. Every time you spoke he was entranced, unable to look away from your mouth. This was so wrong, he was working for you and your husband. He couldn’t help it, you were perfect, everything he could ever want. He dreamed about feeling you under him and that thought kept him half hard in his jeans all day.

By the time he was set to leave he felt like if he didn’t get himself taken care of he was going to explode. All he could think about was you in that damn hoodie, and how he would bend you over with it on. He knew it would smell like you now, it would smell like both of you. As he hopped into his truck he was so distracted that he didn’t see you coming down the driveway towards his car.

“Hey Joel…” Fuck. “I just wanted to get this back to you before I forget.” The gray fabric already smelled like you from where you held it by his car window. Why were you giving it back? He told you to keep it.

”Oh thanks darlin’,” it wasn’t lost on him how your eyes sparkled at this nickname. You were in the most delicious little shorts, showing just enough of the tops of your thighs as you walked back into the house. Fuck, he felt like such a dirty old man. You were so much younger and bright and kind. He felt like he could never deserve you.

He threw the hoodie on the passenger seat as he felt another surge of guilt and arousal settle into this stomach. Just as he was about to pull onto the street, he noticed something much darker than the hoodie sticking out of the pocket. He pulled it to reveal a pair of lacy black panties.

His heart nearly stopped. He would have never expected this, a sweet girl like you leaving her panties in her contractors sweatshirt. His jeans became even tighter than before as he pulled the panties up to his face.

He really was a dirty old man.

They had clearly been worn and it made his head spin, they smelled like heaven and you, he worried he might cum at the smell alone. He needed to get home.

As he raced home with your underwear gripped in his hand, he battled his thoughts. He knew it was wrong to mess around with a married woman but he felt different with you already. You were like the light at the end of his very lonely tunnel, no one ever looked at him the way you did. He practically tore his front door off the hinges as he rushed up to his bedroom. He felt like a teenager with an uncontrollable boner trying to find release.

The black lace was tight in his grip as he shucked his jeans off, the constricting fabric making his blood boil. He pulled himself free and the first touch to his hard length caused a gravely moan to slip from his lips. Tension and heat gathered in his stomach as he stroked himself. His fingers were rough as they circled his weeping tip but he needed to feel relief. He couldn’t even get himself into the shower, he just dropped onto the edge of his bed and never stopped moving his hand.

Those dark panties were teasing him, you were teasing him. You had to be, maybe you were making fun of his obvious crush. No, there was no way you would have grinned like you did if you didn’t feel the same way. It was an offering, a way for you to make a move without being apparent.

Holy shit. You wanted him.

That made his lower muscles spasm suddenly and his orgasm started to barrel down his spine. He pictured you in your small shorts earlier that day and he lost it. A deep groan escaped his throat as he spilled all over his knuckles. He pumped until he was oversensitive, his whole body reacting until he fell back into the bed.

All night his brain juggled wanting nothing but you and telling himself it was wrong. And it was wrong, at least on paper, of course he shouldn’t be messing with a client's wife. Even if she wanted him back.

~

Last time you saw Joel outside his car was almost a week ago. It was driving you crazy. You worried that he took it the wrong way or didn’t even see them. You couldn’t decide if you should be mortified, nervous, turned on or all the above. Then your phone went off.

Usually the texts between you and Joel were regarding what materials or paint you wanted. Now it was something totally different.

5:04PM >Joel: Sorry I have not been to check on the progress of the library personally. There was an emergency at another job.

>Joel: Also, thank you for my gift.

Only someone like Joel would thank you for sneaking him a pair of your panties.

5:09PM <You: im glad you liked them

<You: i was a little worried…

Your heart was thundering in your chest. Your husband was right across the couch, engrossed in his baseball game more than you, per usual. Was it wrong to like this so much, the fact that he had no idea you were texting another man right now, in front of him.

5:12PM >Joel: Why would you be worried? It's the best gift anyone’s ever given me.

>Joel: Any man should be so lucky.

Your pulse kicked up again somehow. He was making it all sound so meaningful. Maybe it was to him. Maybe he never took it the wrong way. Maybe he took it exactly the right way.

5:14PM <You: did you use them?

There was a pause for a few minutes.

5:20PM >Joel: Jesus…

>Joel: I’m at work, darlin.

5:22PM <You: so?

5:25PM >Joel: You got a mouth on you, huh?

5:26PM <You: and i know how to use it

5:28PM >Joel: We might just have to have you prove yourself then.

5:30PM <You: just tell me when

5:31PM >Joel: You are dangerous, angel.

>Joel: I have them in my pocket right now.

>Joel: I couldn’t help myself.

Jesus, this man was going to be the death of you. He was carrying your panties around in his pocket, while he was at work. Your thighs instantly squeezed together and it was at that moment you decided.

Fuck it, he made you feel good and your husband clearly didn’t care about your needs. You needed a divorce, and not just because of Joel. It was about you finally doing what’s good for you.

Suddenly an idea came to you, admititly a very bad idea but again, fuck it.

5:36PM <You: hey, do you have any plans tonight?

5:37PM >Joel: You know darlin, I don’t.

Thank god.

5:38PM <You: what’s your address?

5:38PM >Joel: 7 Oak Village Rd. I get home at 7.

5:38PM <You: see you then

You needed a plan. Your husband wouldn’t really care if you made last minute plans, you just needed a reason. Since he barely takes the time to pay attention to you, he definitely doesn’t know your friends very well.

“Hey, I know this is super random, but my friend Ashley”(totally a fake friend) “just got dumped, Isn’t that awful? She wants me to come over so she’s not alone. Would you care if I spent the night with her?”

It wasn’t really an odd thing, you spent the night with friends before. You should feel bad for lying so easily like this but the thrill of it all was keeping you going. You knew he wouldn’t object but he barely even looked at you. A quick glance back before he focused on the tv again as he waved you off.

”Yea, I don’t care… Johnny’s coming over anyway. Have fun.”

You shook your head and rolled your eyes, you knew you should be upset but you were too used to it at this point. You went upstairs to pack a bag and get ready. It had been a long time since a booty call and you forgot how giddy it made you feel. Knowing you were going to a man's house who actually wanted you there and actually wanted you.

Once you showered and finished packing, you went down to head out the garage. Apparently while you were upstairs Johnny and many more came over and had taken over the couch as they all debated over some play in the game. You tried to get your husband's attention, calling his name and waving at him. Anger boiled over in your gut. Just another reason not to feel guilty about tonight.

You loaded up into the car and pulled out of the massive driveway without a regret in your heart. This was the beginning of a new chapter and it felt right in so many ways. Your skin was buzzing with arousal, you had been thinking of Joel’s thick hands that would soon be on you, throughout your whole shower.

Before you left the neighborhood you sent Joel a quick text.

7:13PM <You: on my way

7:14PM >Joel: Can’t wait.

You felt the heat creep up into your cheeks and down your neck. Your nerves did start to wear on you though, all the usual stuff; Will he like me? Do I look nice? Did I miss a spot shaving my legs? You decided to wear a thin silk slip dress/nightgown under a baggy zip up hoodie. You figured it was a good way to look ‘sloppy’ enough that your husband wouldn’t care, if he even looked your way. You made the short drive over to Joel’s neighborhood and your nerves seemed to melt away as you got closer. It was odd, normally this kind of thing would send your pulse skyrocketing but the thought of seeing Joel made you calm, almost serene. He definitely made your head swim with giddy arousal though.

You found the beautiful house marked ‘No. 7’ and knocked on the perfectly painted door. Of course his house was gorgeous, he was a contractor. Only moments went by until the door was pulled open by that very sexy looking contractor. His brown curls were slightly messy on his head and he wore some kind of faded shirt and loose sweatpants that hung way too low. You couldn’t look away.

“Hi darlin’,” he rubbed his neck and his cheeks went red. He was nervous.

“Hi,” you couldn’t help the smile spreading on your face.

“Come in, here let me.” He gently took your bag from your shoulder and guided you to the couch where he had a bottle of wine and two glasses on the coffee table. The inside of his home was just as beautiful as the outside; the couch was large and comfortable, there was quiet music playing in the corner from an old school record player and books and plants littering the shelves. He came back and poured you both a glass and clinked the two together before you each took a long drink. He finally sat down and you turned so your feet were up against his leg, quickly feeling comfortable with him.

“I wasn’t sure if you would be ok… with me coming over.”

“Why?” God his southern accent was like honey.

“I don’t know, maybe it was…I was too forward.” You were sure why you felt the need to bring this up, maybe clear the air somehow. “I’m divorcing him, I can't do it anymore.” Saying it out loud made your heart lurch.

“I get it sweetheart, it ain’t fair that he treats ya’ that way.” You were leaning into each other at this point, unable to stop the magnetic pull between you. His arm was draped over the back of the couch, his hand near your shoulder. He started to entwine his finger in your hair, his big brown eyes danced over your face and it made you almost want to shy away from his gaze.

“You don’t think I'm a terrible person?” You looked into his eyes finally, wanting to know how he felt about you, how he felt about this.

His fingers left your hair as his thumb brushed over your lips. “Y’not a terrible anythin’ darlin’,” then he moved.

He was on you before you could take another breath. He slotted his lips over yours, his tongue sliding between them. He devoured you, stole the breath from your lungs. It was all consuming the way he kissed you, it felt like he was starved and you were all he wanted to consume. He sat back and pulled you with him, your legs wrapping around his hips leaving your core right in his lap. His hand cupped both cheeks as you pressed yourself fully to him, your hips grinding down into his. Your baggy sweatshirt was obstructing your skin from touching his, you needed more and the fabric was too warm.

You leaned back and you finally got a good look at his face as you pulled the zipper down. His lips were swollen and red and his eyes were almost all pupils. After ripping the bulky fabric off he finally moved his hands to the rest of you. He traced your arms down to where your hands laid on your thighs, he then lightly ran his fingers up your back over the thin fabric of your nightgown.

“You are so… fuck, you’re so gorgeous.” He sounded like he couldn’t catch his breath and yours caught in your throat. He pulled you into him again but it still wasn’t enough skin. As his soft lips worked over your pulse and his rough beard scratched at your neck you knew you needed more of him. You groaned as you pulled away again and tried to pull his shirt off yourself but he was just large enough to make it difficult. He smirked at you as he leaned forward to remove the shirt and your skin finally made contact with his.

You both groaned as you came together once again, finally able to feel his warm solid chest against yours. He explored your body again as your mouths did the same, he kissed down your neck, over your shoulders and between your breasts. The thin straps holding up the nightgown were quickly pulled down, revealing your chest to him. He lavished you and you felt the vibration of his groans as he licked the crevice between your breasts before closing his mouth around a peak and sucking. Your whole body arched into his, your fingers carding through his hair which made him groan deeper.

“Fuck— Joel,” your skin was on fire and you were lightheaded. You knew somewhere deep down you should feel bad or guilty but it was the furthest thing from your mind. He made you feel like you were floating, your soul somehow detached from your body.

He pulled back from you, just enough to catch his breath and look into your eyes. His hands however never stopped roaming your skin. His pupils were blown wide, almost none of the deep brown in his eyes were left now. He dipped his head and dove back into your skin, his lips attaching to your neck and it made you groan and your core clench.

He groaned into you and you felt it rumble through his chest. You felt like you were losing grip on reality, you couldn’t tell someone your own name if they asked. It was all worth it because you were lost in the pleasure of feeling him under you, but you needed more of him.

You dropped to the floor, the carpet soft under your knees. You tried to pull Joel’s pants down his hips, almost frantically as if you didn’t see all of him now you would die.

“Hol’on darlin’,” he kind of giggled as he slipped the fabric off his hips and he fell back onto the couch and looked down at you with his mouth hanging open in awe. You met his gaze before looking down at his hard length.

Fuck, he was big.

You lowered your mouth to him, teasing your lips over his silky skin. His breath caught in his chest. You ran your tongue up and his hand came up to hold the back of your head, not to force but support. Eventually his fingers grabbed into your hair when you wrapped your lips around him and pulled him in. You felt his rough moan reverberate into your body every time you dropped your head. It was difficult to take him all at once but you had to feel him, everywhere.

“Fuck, oh my—gooood…” he dropped his head back onto the couch but you knew he was watching you, his eyes never left you. You felt your arousal spread between your thighs knowing you were driving him mad. Before you even got a chance to really do much Joel pulled you up on your feet. He stayed seated and looked up at you through his lashes and your heart stopped for a second seeing him below you like this made your stomach dip and your panties wet.

His eyes were blazing a path over your body, nightgown bunched around your waist with your entire chest exposed. You should be cold but you felt like you were on fire. He ran his palms up the backside of your legs until he reached the lacy fabric of your underwear. His eyes never left yours as he slowly pulled the fabric off your hips and over your ass, his hands touching skin the whole way down and helped you step out of it. That swooping feeling settled into your stomach again as he slid his fingers back up the inside of your leg until he reached your hot center, eyes never leaving yours. You both moaned as he dipped into the slick that coated your skin.

“Mhmmm, this all f’me?” He looked at you with a mix of arrogance and pure desire as he moved his fingers in a slow circular motion. It was made easy by just how wet you were, you didn’t know if you had ever been this wet before. That’s the effect he had on you, or maybe this is just a primal kind of desire that you never had with your soon-to-be ex-husband.

Either way you were spiraling fast. You knew once you two came together you wouldn’t last long. You needed to feel him, it was driving you mad.

Joel seemed to be taking it slow, which you can admire as this is very new and he probably wanted to make sure you’re comfortable. While you admired him taking the time to make you comfortable you couldn’t wait anymore. As he kissed your chest and his fingers kept moving in agonizing circles across your sensitive bundle while you straddled his lap. His hard length rubbed against your center and both of your bodies shook with desire.

He groaned as he wasn’t expecting you to be on him so fast. His hands ran along every inch, taking you into him and never wanting to let go. You rocked your hips and slowly dragged your core across his length causing you both to stutter and moan. You were sick of waiting for the thing you had been thinking about non stop for weeks.

“Will you… make me feel good?” Your voice was squeaky and horse from all the moans and his eyes fluttered at your request.

“Oh darlin’… that bastard ain’t taking care of you huh? When’s the last time you were properly touched?”

You turned your eyes away from him, slightly embarrassed that he was able to tell that so easily. “Uhm… a while.” He gave you a pointed look, clearly not liking your non-answer. “A… a year,” his eyes widened at your admission. “Over a year…” You cringed at your final answer. You weren’t proud of the fact that it had been so long but you haven't been attracted to your husband in a long time.

”Oh… you poor thing,” he bracketed your cheeks with his large hands. “Don’t worry darlin’.”

Joel was losing composure quickly, he was ready to give you everything you deserved. His nimble fingers reached between your bodies and slid along your center, drawing a wanton moan from your chest. You ground your hips into his hand trying to create the friction he wasn’t giving you. He slowly spread your lips and ran his fingers gingerly over your clit causing your body to shake in his grasp.

“Hmm… y’all wet f’me?” His southern drawl was making his lust-drunk words slur together deliciously. The scruff of his mustache scratched at your neck but his lips and tongue soothed over the sensitive skin.

“Mmhmm… Joel— oh god please,” you sounded just as lost. Your voice cracked and your hips never stopped moving over his hand, desperate for attention.

“Don’t worry darlin’, I gotcha,” he quickly flipped you and your back hit the plush couch. A soft ‘oomf’ escaped your lips and Joel was mesmerized as you lay beneath him. “Oh look at’cha, you’re so pretty baby.”

His words were like hot honey, warm and sweet. You shifted under him and wrapped your fingers around his hard shaft and the groan that reverberated through his chest made your breath catch in your throat. You kept stroking him as his fingers found your wet center again, spreading your release over your puffy folds. As you wrapped your legs around his hips, you guided his crown to your core and felt the sweet stretch of him entering you slowly.

He paused for a few moments and looked like he was trying to center himself again before pushing his hips fully into yours and held himself there. A deep rumbling groan broke through his lips as he began to move, the stretch was making you nervous at first but you felt more and more comfortable as he kept moving. When he started to rub your neglected clit, a bolt of pleasure shot down your spine causing your back to arch and nails to dig into his arms.

“Such a good girl, baby… ngh— you-you feel so good,” his syrupy words made your head feel fuzzy and limbs heavy. His hips started to snap into yours at a harsher pace and his fingers spent up between you in tandem. Your orgasm was quickly approaching with his movements, faster than you expected. Was this the norm for people with healthy relationships and sex lives, real attraction? You couldn’t even finish the thought before Joel sped up his fingers and started to hammer into you. He was surrounding you, hovering over with those dark eyes and large shoulders. The smell of him alone was about to send you over the edge, he smelled like soap and a little like sawdust, all over man. His voice broke you out of your hazy state.

“You’re gonna— cum for me darlin’, I—I can’t hold on…much longer baby.” His voice was rough and demanding and almost like your body listened, you fell over the edge. The lewd moans and shouts of Joel’s name coming out of our mouth surprised you both. At feeling you cum around him, Joel lost all of his remaining control. He stilled inside you and you felt his muscles contract in his release.

“Oh fu—fuck! oh my… god,” he slumped against you and you welcomed his weight. You both settled into the couch as you rubbed your arms up and down his back. “I’m— I’m sorry darlin’, it's been a while. Normally I'd have… taken my time.”

He sounded almost nervous, it made you smile.

“Joel, stop. You have nothing to apologize for.”

”I’ll redeem myself next time.”

Next time? He wants there to be a next time!

You smiled to yourself and hummed at the content feeling of being under him while he still filled you.

You drifted to a place of half consciousness and woke up in, what you were pretty sure was the morning to the smell of bacon. You turned over in a bed, Joel's bed, to find it empty. You looked around the room and found it to be just like Joel, cozy and masculine. You located a shirt of his and threw it on before heading down the stairs to find a very sexy shirtless Joel standing in his kitchen, flipping pancakes.

“Mornin’ sleepy head,” his voice was thick with sleep and you walked up to him at the stove. With one large arm he pulled you into his side and kissed the top of your head. A slow smile spread on your lips at the familiarity of it all, the warmness of having someone to take care of you like this, emotionally. Something you almost never had with your husband, soon to be ex.

“Joel… thank you, for this.”

“What’cha mean darlin?”

“Taking care of me. Letting me come over last night.”

“Hey, look at me,” he tilted your chin up to meet his eyes. “Anytime you need me, I’m here.”

You tried to blink away the tears gathering on your lashes but one managed to slip, Joel’s thumb catching it before it reached your cheek. Time felt like it stopped as you leaned in to each other, lips pressing together as you moaned at the feeling.

The day was spent lazing in bed and talking about all the things you two would do when your divorce was finalized. The idea of divorce was the scariest thing in the world when you first thought about it, but now, knowing Joel would be with you every step of the way… you couldn’t wait.

[promisingyounglady]

go back to bed. | JP x Reader

PAIRING: Javier Peña x Pregnant Wife!Reader

SYNOPSIS: after a difficult nights work, javier just wants to patch himself up in peace. of course, you’re not gonna have it.

WC: 1.3k

WARNINGS: mdni! reader is afab, no y/n, mentions of pregnancy, weapons, javi getting mildly hurt, profanity, suggestiveness, little bit of angst but a lot of sweetness too;(

AUTHORS NOTE: reblogging and feedback is appreciated

The sound of running water is what wakes you up.

Your vision’s blurry from sleep, but you still make out the dimly lit room, a sliver of light peeking through the crack of the bathroom door. The sound of crickets chirping softly outside tells you it’s the early hours of the morning.

You hear shuffling, the obnoxious sound of objects hitting your tiles, and a quiet string of mumbled curses that you know belong to him.

“Mierda”

You blink softly, sitting up from your warm covers as your senses come together. More clanging of objects and a pair of scissors falling to the floor follows, and this time you paddle softly to the door, a shiver going up your back from only wearing a thin, white cotton nightgown.

You squint gently, pushing the door just enough so that you could confirm it was Javier.

“Fucking cheap ass bandages” you hear him mutter under his breath, struggling to cut the cloth with scissors, using his teeth instead.

With his broad back facing you, you make out a disordered array of disinfectant alcohol, medical supplies and gauze on your bathroom counter. You cross your arms, worried as you step closer.

Javi looks tired in his mirror reflection, brows furrowed and moustache in a frown as you watched your husband struggle with bandaging a fairly large cut on his right hand.

Your eyes widened at the blood.

”Javier.”

Javi looks up in the mirror, caught red-handed (quite literally) in the act of secretly bandaging his bloody hand so his very protective, and might he add, very pregnant wife didn’t freak out.

You stepped forward into the bathroom light, your large bump peeking through the nightgown you wore.

“Go back to bed, querida” he quickly says, hunched as he tries his best to hide the blood stained tissues beside him from your gaze. You sighed, knowing why Javi doesn’t like showing you.

“Ay, Javier” You spit harshly, waddling over as you scolded your tall husband who stands timid underneath your concerned gaze.

You snatched the rubbing alcohol from his hand. “You really want to make your pregnant wife mad by sneaking around with cuts and bruises?” It’s now your turn to furrow your brows and inspect his bleeding hand, shaking your head as you saw his fugle attempts at bandaging it up.

“Do you even stop to think how I feel when I see you get hurt like this?” You exclaimed, glaring at the man.

You see the pair of medical scissors lying on the bathroom floor, a few tissues and bloodied cloths with it. Despite being six months pregnant, you tried to pick up the objects, a hand against your back in support as you awkwardly shifted down.

Javier already feels too guilty that his heart hurts even more when he sees you struggle to perform basic activities. “Querida, querida, stop” he quickly bends down, swiftly picking up the lying tool with his left hand and putting it on the counter before you could.

You straightened your back, sighing at the sight of your husband on his knees, picking up the bandages as well as evidence of another one of his violent encounters with criminals as a DEA agent.

“I’m fine, I promise mi amor.” He reassures you softly, trying to say something that could make you use a different tone than the one you’re using one with him. “I bandaged it up earlier, but it just unraveled so-“

As Javi is eye-level with your stomach, you softly run your fingers through his hair, feeling his words stop and body tense at the action for a split second before melting into your touch. Javi shuts his eyes, pressing his forehead against your stomach and giving you and your child a kiss.

At least he was home. At least he was here with you.

“I know.” he breathes out amongst the silence. “I’m sorry honey.”

Hm, is all you reply in return, acknowledging that your husband knows he was wrong to give his pregnant wife such a scare in the middle of the night.

Javi looks up at you, big brown eyes searching for forgiveness in your own.

“I tried to be careful, I really did. But then the guy pulled out a knife, and-“

Your eyes widened softly before an unsettling feeling resided in your chest. Thinking of your husband being so dangerous to protect his country was conflicting. But it was for his people. As well as you and your child.

”Get up, carino” you say firmly.

Javier pauses, sighing as he obliged to your every word like it was his command.

Now your husband looms over you, right hand facing upwards with his makeshift bandages, as his left gently touches your back, pulling you closer to him.

You try not to let the endearing action cause your heart to flutter. You weren’t letting him slide so easily.

You bite your lip, frustrated at the fact that Javier continued to go on dangerous chases and stakeouts to catch Escobar, meanwhile you were sitting at home everyday with a dull ache in your heart as you envisioned your child not getting the chance to meet their father.

But seeing the bags under Javi’s eyes, along with the way he lowers his head quietly, you sigh and grab the stained cloth on the edge of counter. In silence, you took his large, rough hand into your soft one and patched his cut.

Javi knows better than to say anything at the moment. Instead he promises something you know he means more than actually committing. “I’ll be more careful”

You pressed the rubbing alcohol firmly in his wound, causing him to wince slightly.

“Damn right you’ll be” you mutter, protectively helping your husband.

Javier smiles at your actions, an overwhelming sense of love filling his heart.

“Murphy almost got shot if it makes you feel better”

You pause from cleaning up the medical supplies and his newly bandaged. You looked into your husbands eyes, pure shock and horror.

“By our boss, carino” Javier smiles. “The targets got away because Murphy was dumb enough to- AY“

You drown the sounds of your husbands laughter and words with a smack to the back of his head, cursing at him under your breath as you left the washroom with pursed lips.

Javier didn’t need to take many long strides to catch up to you, wrapping his arms around your belly, latching onto your sides and laughing as he tried to hold onto your tiny but furious form.

”es broma hermosa, I didn’t mean to-“

”Have fun sleeping on the couch, Peña” you swatted his hands away. Javier locks eyes with your waddling form before holding on to you and spinning you around swiftly in strong arms. Now standing in the dim bedroom, with your belly close to his body and noses almost touching, he looks at you with a hope of forgiveness in his crinkled eyes. The distance makes you hate him even more.

“It’s a joke my love, I’m sorry” he says grinning stupidly like a fool, only wanting to have seen you smile. You smack his chest hard, glaring up at him. “You’re an idiot, I hope you get shot next time”

Javier roars with laughter, unable to take your venomous words seriously when you looked so innocent and cute in his arms. In order to apologize, Javier bends down to kiss your lips.

However, you’re stubborn and shift your face away, trying your hardest not to smile as Javier tries to show his love to you.

“Javi! I hate you” you exclaimed, the pregnancy hormones making you meaner than you really were.

Your husband doesn’t mind at all, not when he cheekily sneaks a hand under your slip and grabs the soft mound of your breast. The action makes you gasp, Javier grinning in victory when you finally let your lips press into his.

God, did this man drive you insane.

[moodstabilizr]

howwouldyouliketoridehomeonarealcowboyigotasixpackofcoldonesoniceandmyroomiesoutallnightsoyoucanscreammynameasloudasyouneedtosugar

[guiltyasdave]

strawberry sugar

pairing: modern!Oberyn Martell x f!reader

word count: ~1.8k

summary: Your boyfriend spoils you on your birthday morning. In some... unexpected ways. :)

warnings/tags: explicit smut (-> 18+ only!), able-bodied reader, no use of y/n, food play, dirty talk, oral sex (f receiving), ridiculous amounts of fluff

meant as a follow-up to delicate, but can be read as a standalone!

a/n: written for @iamasaddie's kinky writing challenge with the prompt food play for oberyn martell. it's already june 1st where i live, so here we go!

thank you @northernbluess & @luxurychristmaspudding for screaming about this with me, i love you <3

dividers as always by @saradika-graphics <3

find my full masterlist here and follow @guiltyasdavenotifs for fic updates!

“Good morning, princess.”

The touch of soft lips kisses your closed eyelids, your nose, your cheeks and finally your mouth, gently stirring you awake. You hum quietly, contentedly, snuggling closer into your boyfriend’s warm arms around you. 

“Hi,” you smile, your breath ghosting against his lips, before you connect them with yours once more. 

It’s almost as if you’re still dreaming, enveloped by soft sheets and Oberyn’s warm embrace, the golden morning light flooding the room when you finally open your eyes. He’s already looking at you, your favorite crooked grin playing around the corners of his mouth. The dimple on his cheek is especially pronounced like this, making your heart flutter even after waking up next to him on most mornings for months now. 

“Happy birthday,” he purrs, one hand coming up to cup your face, his thumb gently caressing the soft apple of your cheek. 

Your own grin widens and you lean into his touch. “Thank you,” you say breathily, like speaking too loud might shatter the quiet peacefulness of the moment. 

He kisses you again, lips moving against yours, giving you one swipe of his tongue against your bottom one before he pulls back, chuckling at the way you’re following to chase his touch.

“You stay right here,” he orders you gently as he swings his feet down to the ground and stands up, carefully covering you with the duvet that got ruffled with his movements. “Make yourself comfortable and I will be right back, yeah?” 

You nod silently, your smile beaming by now. You watch his retreating figure, only wearing his black boxers, leaving most of his body bare on display for you. Cords of muscle are moving under his golden skin, the sunbeams falling through your windows are catching in his dark hair, still ruffled from the night’s sleep, and you’re mesmerized. You always are when it comes to him. 

You hear his movements in the kitchen, the fridge and cabinets opening and closing, the clatter of something, and smile to yourself. When he had asked what you wanted for your birthday weeks ago, breakfast in bed had been your first response. 

Sinking deeper into the sheets again, you grab your phone, reading a couple of messages congratulating you, laughing at the photo of your childhood self that your mom had sent you. A sweet scent wafts from the kitchen into the bedroom and your mouth waters. 

Oberyn returns with a bowl of strawberries, another bowl of whipped cream and a stack of waffles, with a single burning candle on top of it. You giggle at the sight, scooching into a sitting position and helping him place the food on top of the covers. 

He lifts the plate with the waffles to your face and, winking at you, tells you to make a wish. You close your eyes, the image of his face still vivid behind your lids, and blow out the flame. As soon as he sets it back down, you pull him in for another kiss. 

“This is perfect. Already the best birthday ever. Thank you, baby.”

“Anything for you, my sun.” The endearment falls so easily from his lips, like he has no idea that it sends your heart soaring every time he says it. 

He holds a strawberry to your lips, his eyes glued to your face as you take a bite. When you playfully nip at his fingers, the deep rumble of his laugh makes a home straight in your chest, filling you with warmth. 

You watch him eat, watch his plush lips close around the fruit, his teeth sinking into it. His appreciative low hum at the taste in combination with the sight in front of you has you pressing your thighs together, your need for him always simmering just below the surface.

This must be what perfection is like, you think, looking around the room, taking in all the peacefulness that’s surrounding you right now. It’s almost overflowing, this love that you have for the man in front of you. And somehow, inexplicably, he loves you just as much. 

When Oberyn’s teeth dig into another strawberry, he catches your gaze, must see the heat behind your eyes. He winks at you, deliberately slowly biting into the fruity flesh, licking his lips afterwards without ever dropping the eye contact with you. 

“Are you full already?” he asks, a cocky smile playing around his lips.

“Not quite,” you tell him, eyes innocently widened. “But I got really hungry for something else just now.” 

“Yeah?” he chuckles, pushing the food further away and reaching for you instead. 

You meet him eagerly, pressing your lips to his hungrily. His hands are everywhere, spanning wide over your body, leaving a burning trail over your skin and pressing into your flesh so deliciously that you’re already breathing soft moans into his mouth. 

His fingers slide under the shirt of his that you’re sleeping in, trail over the lace of your underwear until he’s right between your thighs. The fabric is already drenched there, clinging to your heated skin. He growls at your obvious arousal, licks deeper into your mouth while his fingers trace the shape of you over your panties. 

He sits back, watches you with dark eyes as you blink up at him, breathless and pleading. You pull the shirt off of your body, baring yourself for him, hungry for the expression that you see on his face every time he lays eyes on you like this. 

“My pretty girl,” he muses, still lazily stroking his fingers over your underwear, not swayed by your desperate whine. 

He picks up one of the strawberries, dips it into the bowl of whipped cream and brings it up to your lips, watches with rapt attention when your mouth obediently closes around the fruit. It leaves bits of cream behind, and he’s on you in a heartbeat, kisses the mess away and licks deep into your mouth. You love when he pounces on you like this, his movements all gracefulness and unrestrained strength. 

“You taste so sweet,” he whispers into your neck, nipping at the skin there. 

You wiggle underneath him, trying to reach for a berry yourself, wanting to kiss the taste off his mouth as well. He stops you before you can dip it into the cream, one hand wrapping around your wrist, easily dwarfing it. 

“I have a better idea,” he grins, all teeth, and a feral glint in his eyes. “Going to taste even sweeter.” 

You watch in stunned silence as he finally peels your panties off of you and down your legs, then swirls two fingers through your wetness and sucks them into his mouth. 

“So much sweeter.” 

He easily plucks the fruit from your hand and moves closer to you, your legs easily parting wider around his broad frame. You whine his name, the realization of what he’s about to do slowly dawning on you. Your pussy clenches around nothing at the mere thought.  

Oberyn leans over you, drinking in your every reaction as he pinches the strawberry between two fingers and slowly trails it down your body. You shudder at the unfamiliar texture when he reaches your nipples, circling the hardened nubs and chuckling at your responding moan.

“Does it feel good?” he asks, wide smile on his face.

“So good,” you breathe, arching your back trying to get more friction, “please, Oberyn.” 

With a hum, he stops playing with your breasts and continues moving downwards. When he finally reaches your cunt, you’re dripping for him, wetness spread over your skin. He moves the strawberry through your folds with ease, eyes glimmering and glued to what he’s doing. You could almost come from the sight of his ravenous expression alone. 

He brings it up to your face again, showing you the red fruit coated in your slick. Holding your gaze, his teeth dig into it. You moan at the sight, one hand tangling in his hair to hold him close, pulling him into you once more. 

“It is even sweeter than I thought, princess.” 

You crash your lips against his, your tongue licking into his mouth with the need to share this with him, to taste what he tasted. It is sweet, mixed with the tangy hints of yourself. He pulls back much too soon, mischief dancing on his features. 

“Let me get you your own one,” he purrs, already reaching for the bowl again. “As a present, hm?” 

You watch with wide eyes as he goes straight for your pussy this time, dragging a second berry through your wetness, nudging at your entrance and bumping against your clit. A high pitched whine leaves you at that, and he arches an eyebrow at you, a smirk growing on his face. 

“I wonder…” He trails off, swipes the strawberry over your clit again, more purposeful this time. 

You're helplessly aroused, your hips twitching at his ministrations. He steals another kiss from your lips, before he sinks down between your legs, nipping at the soft skin of your upper thighs. 

Another kiss straight to your clit, a swipe of his tongue, until it’s replaced by the foreign fruity texture again, rubbing against you with calculated movements now. His tongue laps at your entrance instead, drinking up your arousal, before he fucks it straight into you. 

Your hips almost lift off of the mattress, a cry of pleasure falling from your lips, and you grab his head with both hands, fingers sinking into the dark strands of his hair. 

“Fuck,” you whine, almost overwhelmed with the sensations and white hot pleasure coursing through your veins. “Right there, please Oberyn, I’m so close–” 

His responding groan sends rippling vibrations through you, pushing you right to the edge within seconds. It swirls around you, the scratch of his beard against your skin, the wild glint in his eyes at your every moan, so obviously relishing in giving you pleasure, the movement against your clit, his tongue right where you need him – taking hold of you and sending you flying. You come with a shuddering cry, clenching around his tongue and flooding his mouth with your orgasm, as stars burst behind your eyelids and full bliss overtakes your body. 

Oberyn works you through it, not letting up until you’re weakly trembling underneath him, tugging at his hair once more. His face swims into view in front of you, a brilliant smile grazing his features. It’s sinful, the way his pupils are blown so wide his eyes are almost black and your arousal is sticking to his beard. You want to kiss and lick it off of him. 

Instead, the taste of fruit and yourself floods your mouth once more, as he brings the berry, covered in your orgasm, up to your lips. You share it with him, tongues and limbs tangled together.

“I love you,” you sigh happily, wrapping your arms and legs around him, ready to let him consume you entirely.

thank you for reading! as always, comments and reblogs are love and mean the world to me <3

[thefrogdalorian]

Din Djarin + Chapter 11: The Heiress

[milla-frenchy]

The detective

2k6 | Tim Rockford x fem reader | ao3 | Masterlist

Summary: being a suspect in a theft case, you get interrogated by a handsome and dominant personal investigator Warnings: 18+ mdni. dubcon. power imbalance, brat tamer, humiliation, degradation, sir kink, spitting, spanking, oral (m), cockwarming, piv, cum eating No age specified. Pic in mood board for mood only

a/n: this is a contribution to @iamasaddie writing challenge 3.0 💛🫶 prompt: humiliation/Tim Rockford Dividers @saradika-graphics 🙏 @aurorawritestoescape thank you for beta-ing and for being you 💕 🫶

“That’s all I have to say, detective,” you concluded with a not so subtle sigh.

You were sitting in front of a desk and the detective was facing you. Rubbing his beard with his thumb. He smiled when he heard you say "detective" in a condescending tone.

“You know ma’am, there is some inconsistency in your testimony.”

“Excuse me? You’re just a private detective. I don't think you have the qualifications to presume any of this.” You had a hard time hiding your annoyance at being there, summoned by that detective to that dingy, dust-covered office. When he asked you to go to that room, you pointedly rolled your eyes as you passed him.

“Well, sorry ma’am, but the information you’re giving me is clearly imprecise. Seems like you’re forgetting some important details.”

“I already told you I have nothing more to say, detective.” He smiled again, and you rolled your eyes even harder than when you had entered the room, then you stood up.

“Sit down.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said, ‘sit down’. I’m not finished.”

The tone in which he talked to you sent a deep shiver down your spine, and you sat back. 

He stood up and took off his black suit jacket, and hung it on the back of his chair. He was wearing a holster over his white shirt and for a moment your eyes lingered on his broad shoulders and neck, then his tie. He walked around the table, passing behind you.

“I need you to be a little more collaborative. I need to see that you are making every possible effort to help this investigation move forward.”

He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, revealing his tanned forearms with multiple veins, and your eyes lingered on his body again.

“I already—,” you paused when he took out a tape recorder and pressed ‘play’, leaning towards you from across the table. One palm resting on it. You frowned, annoyed by his behavior. When you heard the moans, the frown turned into shock, then embarrassment.

“Oh, fuck…fuck, I’m gonna come.”

“Come on, soak my cock. Yeah, just like that.”

Only your moans were now audible. Then, the sound of skin slapping against skin.

“You like to be fucked like a whore, uh? Bent over a fucking table?”

“Yes, yes! Fuck me! Harder, please. Please…”

The detective pressed ‘stop’, and put the tape recorder on the table. 

“So, ma’am. I’m afraid I’m going to have to repeat myself. This recording was made the day before the jewelry robbery. In his apartment, where the jewelry was kept in the safe. No one else entered the apartment except you and him.”

“Detective, I... I don’t know what happened to the jewelry.” Hearing the recording had disoriented you, and your tone was much less confident and arrogant. You felt vulnerable. He felt the change in your voice immediately and his smile turned into a grin. He was clearly enjoying the situation more and more, and you, less and less. But his firm tone awakened something in you and you squirmed in your chair.

“Well… Where has your attitude gone, ma’am?” he asked, walking again, and then stood near your chair, arms crossed. Way too close to you.

“I don't allow you to talk to me like-” You started to say in an unsure voice, totally disoriented by the recording and by him, but you stopped again when you saw his bulge, and looked at him, eyes widened.

“Ok, that’s enough now”, you said as you stood up, trying to regain some control, but he grabbed your arm, bringing his face closer, his brown eyes fixed on yours.

“I have enough to call the police, you know. All your little games are gonna amuse them, for sure.”

“Shit”, you said, dropping your gaze to the ground.

“And the problem is that you wasted my time, right? With that tone of yours… how do you plan to fix this?”

“I don’t understand.”

“You came here with a very unpleasant attitude, for someone who doesn't understand things quite well”, he said, stepping back from you, before grabbing his chair and placing it against the opposite wall. He sat there, manspreading. 

“What do you want?”, you asked in a low voice.

“You're really not the smartest, are you? Pleasant to look at, for sure, but a bit dumb, poor thing… Come towards me”, he added. 

You took a step forward, hesitant.

“No”, he said abruptly. You looked at him with confusion, and he added "hands and knees. Like a whore."

The reminder of the recording, his firm voice, the way he was sitting, everything about him exuded dominance and confidence, and you felt your own self-assurance crumbling ever more.

And you don't know what happened in your brain, if his attitude made you short-circuit, but you sure felt the desire soaking your panties. You looked at him, eyes widened. Shocked by his order and by your arousal. By his smirk. As if he knew you wouldn't say no. Your cheeks heated up thinking that he surely had listened to the whole tape. Hearing you being submissive, ready to do anything to have more and more of the cock that ruined your throat and pussy that night. 

He was waiting calmly for you to process what was happening. And what would happen next. He saw you hesitating, and added “unless you want me to call the police? I'm sure they'd love to play “good cop/bad cop” with a brat like you. In your pretty little skirt. So short, it doesn’t leave much to the imagination, mmm?”

He paused, then added, “do as I said. Now.”

And that was it. You knelt down, in your tight skirt and heels, and advanced slowly towards him. Both humiliated and horny. Your back arched and your clit was twitching. Eyes fixed on him. Ashamed to bend so easily, but eager to learn what would happen next. How far he would go, as if you were not in charge anymore. 

When you reached his lap, you sat back on your heels. You looked down at your knees, covered in dust, then looked up at him. Waiting.

“Are you gonna be a good girl?” he asked in a husky voice. You swallowed loudly. It was like he knew exactly what you'd easily dive for.

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes…sir?”

“I'm gonna accept it for now. But you will call me "sir" with no hesitation before I'm done with you.” Wetness ruined your panties a little more.

“Follow me. The same way.”

He got up and went to sit at the desk, gathering the entire file in front of him.

“Come here”, he repeated, pointing at his crotch with his chin to show you exactly where he wanted you. And you obeyed, slavishly, as he undid his leather belt and placed it on the table. You slipped under the desk, between his knees.

“Unzip.”

You opened his suit pants, and grabbed his cock. Half hard. Even now, his cock was big, and you tried not to moan. But it slipped from your lips nevertheless.

“In your mouth. Keep me warm while I check what to send to the police.”

A part of you still couldn't believe you were in this situation, in this dingy office, and that the detective was ordering you to act like that. And you couldn’t believe you were about to submit again. To be humiliated again. And that it was turning you on to the point that your pussy was dripping. You even wondered if you would have submitted, even without his threats to call the police. He was hot, way too hot, and everything in him exuded natural dominance. And you didn't really know how to resist all of it. In that office or elsewhere.

So you submitted, and took his warm, thick, heavy cock in your mouth, its weight pressing down on your tongue. You waited and didn’t move, feeling used and dripping for it.

You heard him sorting the papers, keeping some in hand longer. Sometimes you would hear the tip of his pen scratching the paper. You heard him rub his beard. You felt his cock twitch sometimes, but he had impressive self-control. He never got fully hard between your lips. 

Minutes passed and your jaw was getting sore. Your saliva was now running down your chin, as your wetness was flowing from your pussy. Your knees hurt as you were standing on the cement floor, and when you tried to change the position he put his hand on the back of your neck, and told you not to move. His warm skin on yours made you shiver and you didn't move. Letting your knees stiffen in the imposed position.

“Ok, that’s enough”, he said, pulling back after a time you couldn’t evaluate.

You heard a clicking sound when he told you to come out from under the desk, but to remain kneeling. You felt the handcuff bracelets on your wrists, behind your back, then the sound of metal being tightened. “Don’t want your dusty hands on my cock”, he added.

You were facing the table, and he leaned on it, his cock out of his pants. 

“You want that cock?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Suck it.”

Upright on your knees, he grabbed his cock and held it towards you. Unable to hold back a moan when you felt it again between your lips, before you started sucking him, applying yourself. You loved his taste and loved blowing him, to be on your knees for him, handcuffed, in that room.

“You’re being filmed, you know. And it’s a shame you’re so bad at sucking a dick.”

Petrified, you stopped for a few seconds. But there was no way he was going to make you doubt yourself. You pulled back and placed your tongue flat just above his balls, then licked his shaft towards his tip, twirling your tongue on it. You leaned down again, and licked his balls. They were big, resting heavy under his cock. You thought they must be full of cum, and you couldn't wait for him to fill you with it. Your tongue lapped at their barely hairy skin. He got hard immediately. You looked at him, a slight smirk on your face.

“Open”, he said. “Tongue out.” Then he leaned down slightly, before letting his saliva fall down your chin and into your mouth.

“Swallow. Like a good girl.”

You swallowed, then stuck your tongue out again to show him.

“Suck.”

You approached him and licked the precum that was beading on his tip. Then rounded your lips, trying to take as much of him in your mouth as possible, until your nose brushed against his hair.

“How do you feel, sucking a detective’s cock in his office?”

You looked at him, not daring to stop.

“I kinda like it, when a brat is on her knees for me. Mouth full of my cock.”

He thrust and hit the back of your throat, making you gasp and pull away, coughing.

“Damn. You’re so pathetic.” You stared at the trickle of saliva that linked you to him, the only link between you and his cock, which your mouth was already missing.

“Desperate, mmm? Say “I’m a whore and I just want to get filled by your dick, sir.”

“I’m a whore and I just want to get filled by your dick, sir.” He was right. No hesitation in your voice this time.

“Bend over the desk. Lemme see that cunt.”

You rested your chest against the wooden surface, your hands still bound by the handcuffs behind your back. He placed his hand on your ass, caressing its roundness. Gently, so gently that you closed your eyes for a moment and held your breath.

You didn't see the first spanking coming, and you let out a cry. Then the second, just before he unzipped your skirt. Sliding it slowly from the small of your back to the bottom of your buttocks. The third spanking made you moan, and ruined your panties a little more.

The mixture of sweetness and pain turned you on. Standing behind you, he pressed his cock against your ass. His manwood pressed against you, you only wished to feel his cock in your cunt, pushing your walls.

He grabbed the hem of your skirt and slid it down your hips, then your thighs, through your ankles. Your tights followed. He knelt down to remove these pieces of clothing from your feet. Your ass, covered by your panties, was at his eye level. When he slid them slowly down and your folds got exposed, he hissed softly.

“Alright. I hope you're better at taking a dick than at sucking it.”

He stood up and glided his cock along your soaked folds, making you moan.

“Your cunt is dripping for every man? Or you just like to be humiliated by a detective?”

He slipped his tip into your dripping hole, making you gasp, and stopped.

“Answer me.”

“I… I like to be humiliated and degraded.”

“Beg me to fuck you.”

“Fuck me, sir. Please, please… need your cock.”

“God, you’re so pitiful.”

He sank without stopping, bottoming out, and you whimpered. Full of his cock. He pulled back and thrust all the way in again, then started fucking  you hard and fast, making you moan with every thrust of his hips. Hands clinging to your hips, yours cuffed behind your back, you could only take his cock. Let him use you freely. The desk shook under his thrusts. Tears were beading in the corners of your eyes, as he was growling, spreading your pussy with his shaft.

“Yeah, make a show for the camera. Maybe you’ll have an Oscar for the best drama queen.”

He grabbed your shoulders for more leverage, and was fucking you deep and slow now. His cock was brushing your g spot at every move, and you quickly came on his cock, trembling.

“Such a slut, coming that fast on my cock, uh?”

You were unable to answer, and he sneered, adding “so cuckdumb”, pounding you faster and you were moaning continually, feeling your wetness trickling from your cunt.

He pulled back and looked at your soaking pussy before thrusting in again. “You're so wet, my cock and balls are covered in white, Jesus.”

He grabbed your hips and railed you, chasing his orgasm.

“Say “I’m a whore and I just want to be full of your cum, sir.”

“I’m a whore and I just want to be full of your cum, sir.”

He sneered again, as if you just said the most stupid thing in the world. “Your pussy isn’t good enough to make me cum, I’m gonna have to jerk off,” he spat, before pulling out of your pussy. He grabbed your elbow and made you kneel in front of him.

“Tongue out, open wide.”

You stuck out your tongue, eyes staring into his. He looked at you from his height, eyes frowning. His hand tight on his cock, he jerked off. Strong, slow jerks on his hard, thick cock. And you had already forgotten your pussy clenching over nothing. Now you wanted his cum. So you waited, tongue out. Until he groaned, and the white ropes of cum hit your tongue, your cheeks, your chin. Covering your face with his seed.

“Swallow.” Of course you obeyed.

“Say ”thank you sir.”

“Thank you sir.”

You were exhausted, a little part of you was ashamed. And another part missed feeling him in you already.

He rubbed his tip against your chin, your lips, your cheeks, then he tucked his cock into his clothes.

“So. About the jewelry. Let's start from the beginning. I might need more time to investigate and I'm afraid we’ll have to work closely together again”, he said, and your pussy clenched, begging for more.

Tim Rockford masterlist

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[yvain]

Red Rooms (2023) | Pascal Plante The Lady of Shalott (1894) | John William Waterhouse

[lady-djarin]

thoroughfare

joel miller x f!reader (one shot)

warnings/tags: not even close to canon events, no ellie, no jackson mentioned, joel is a softie protector type, age gap (legal 50s/late 20s), one bed trope, spooning, fingering, oral (f receiving first time), piv sex, mdni, 18+

word count: 2.4k

a/n: yall know me i can’t hear a song and not make a fic from it. as a daughter of cain i couldn’t help but make something from one of her many songs and this album specifically changed me in many ways. i also can’t help but think of joel anytime i listen to this song or any of them for that matter.

inspired by: thoroughfare by ethel cain

“for the first time since i was a child i could see a man who wasn’t angry. […] 'cause in your pickup truck with all of your dumb luck is the only place I think I'd ever wanna be.”

* ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

When the world ended you learned a few things very quickly. One; the wild is a better choice than the QZ’s. Two; water is more important than food in an emergency. And three; trust no one. Because of these three things, you now survived on your own, your group split up or died long ago.

As you walked along a dusty road in Texas somewhere you started to hear the faint rumble of an engine far off in the distance. The quiet desert didn’t have much around it for you to hide in except for a few trees and slightly tall grass. You crouched in the grass near a tree and prayed whoever it was didn’t see you.

Sure enough as the truck passed your spot, it slowed down and backed up so the man inside was looking right at your tree. He stepped out and circled the truck, keeping light on his feet and looked around in the grass. He didn’t see you until, in a moment of stupidity, you looked up and made direct eye contact with him. Your heart rate sped up and you froze, seemingly unable to take your eyes off him. The deep brown of them felt like a balm to your ragged soul. Despite all prior aversion and honestly hatred of men, this one seemed different.

“Y’can come out… I won’t hurt’cha, I promise.”

His deep southern drawl was comforting for some reason and he did sound genuine. You slowly stood but didn’t move forward, keeping your distance for now.

“What do you want?” Your voice was still cutting, cold as ice.

“Well… I wanna make sure you're ok,” his honeyed voice was low, like he was afraid to startle an animal.

“What do you care?”

“You’re out here, alone. I care because you look…”

“Rough? Yea, I know,” you hated that he was dissolving your weariness.

“I can give you a ride… if you wanna see the west with me?”

This large and admittedly handsome man was making a good case. He seemed good enough, definitely better than other men you’ve encountered. Usually as soon as they see a young fresh face like yours they resort to their baser levels, only wanting one thing.

He was nothing like that so far. You weighed your options; you could keep walking to who knows where with almost no water and probably run into people worse than this man, or you could take a leap of faith and get in that truck.

Fuck it.

“Fine, but if you pull any funny business, I’ll kill you. Got it?”

Much to your chagrin, the man kind of smirked, clearly trying to hold back a laugh.

“Come on… we gotta get goin’,” he just turned and walked back to the truck, settling in the front seat as he waited for you to follow.

You reluctantly stepped up into the passenger side, thankful that it was long enough to keep at least a few feet away from him. You kept your eyes down and only darted them over every so often as to make sure he wasn’t closing the distance. He surprised you by nudging your arm with a metal canteen, holding it open towards you.

“Have some, s’just water.”

You looked at him suspiciously, a permanent scowl etched in your brow. He seemed almost confused that you were suspicious but he only demonstrated its safety by drinking from it himself.

“See? Just have some, m’sure y’need it.”

The droplets of water sitting on his lips grabbed the light, making it dance across his features. You forgot for a moment you’re not supposed to trust him yet but you take the canteen anyway. The surprisingly cold water slides down your throat and you almost choke on the feel of it, it had been a long time since you had fresh, clear, cold water. A groan slipped free as you took in more water with deep gulps.

“Ok relax… you’re gonna drown,” he gently took the canteen away and screwed the cap on all whithout taking his eyes off the wheel. You sat again in slightly tense silence for another few miles. You knew by now he probably wasn’t going to hurt you, at least not yet.

“I’m Joel by the way…”

You looked over at him and found a warm smile framed by his slightly greying beard. You ended up telling him your name, telling yourself you’ll only be with him for a little while and you wouldn’t tell him much else.

~

That was two months ago.

Safe to say Joel was nothing like other men you’d met. He told you he was headed west because Texas was bone dry in every sense. No people, no food, no water. He also always seemed a little lonely to you, like he was searching for more than just sustenance.

The two of you became pretty close, considering neither of you had any real ‘friendships’ in this fucked up world. It was a pretty stable routine; drive or walk until you found somewhere inhabitable, eat, sleep in rotations and repeat. Between all that, there was nothing to do but talk and he eventually got you to open up.

You told him your story of day one and he told you his, or at least bits and pieces of it. You learned he’s much older than you, more than expected. He looked very good being in his 50’s but he doesn’t know exactly his age as he apparently stopped keeping track a few years back. He was almost 25 years your senior with you being in your late 20’s.

He asked what it was like growing up in a world like this and you asked him about life before it all. One day on a long road he told you about how when he was twelve, his brother, mom and him took a road trip and he fell in love with new parts of America.

Eventually you two made it to California, the coast offering resources you couldn’t get in Texas. You both found out later that you ended up more north than you thought so it was cooler than expected. Joel found an empty warehouse a little inland and you made your usual set up, the one difference being the bed.

One bed.

There was an old mattress on a thin metal frame shoved in a corner hidden under some boxes so that must have been why no one took it yet. It wasn’t huge but it had a mattress and some almost disintegrated blankets on it but it was better than the floor. The two of you worked to get it out and brushed off, setting it up close to the fire you had built. As you warmed up your gourmet meal of 20-year-old canned beans, you noticed Joel rolling his sleeping bag out on the floor.

“Don’t even try to tell me you’re gonna sleep there…,” you gave him that condescending look that he hates.

“Where the hell else would I sleep?”

All you did was raise your eyebrows and gesture to the bed across from the fire.

“That’s yours, honey.”

Honey— a nickname he gave you when he teased you about being ‘sweet as honey’, very clearly being sarcastic. He knows how it makes your eyes roll but he doesn’t know how it makes your heart skip.

“Joel, you’re an old man. You need a bed.”

He ground his teeth but didn’t hide his smirk. This was another thing that became normal, the teasing— borderline flirting.

“Darlin’, what’ve I told you about callin’ me old?”

You turn to him slowly and give him a wicked grin. “That it turns you on?” You burst into a fit of laughs when he gives you a sobered shocked look. “Oh come on Joel, we can be adults and share. Can’t we?”

He paused for a few moments grumbling to himself, as he often did, before huffing and conceding.

“Fine, but you behave yourself, and don't move around too much.”

“Yes sir,” you gave him your best dramatic salute.

~

You found yourself lying awake about an hour later. It was cold beyond belief and while Joel was a living furnace, you lacked in that department. You honestly did try not to move, knowing the mattress shook with every turn but it was so hard to get comfortable being this cold. As you turned onto your back again, you heard a loud inhale and froze.

“Darlin’?” His voice was sleepy and oh so delicious.

“Sorry— I can't…”

“You’re shaking,” his warm large hand came to your arm as he turned towards you.

“I’m so cold, I just can’t get comfortable. Sorry.”

He nudged your arm so you would roll onto your side, away from him. “Come here.” His arm came around your middle, pulling your body back into his. The sudden change made your pulse race and you were unsure how to respond. His warm breath brushed your neck and his entire front was pressed against you. You kept shaking as he held you, chased away the cold with his touch.

“Joel…?”

“Mhm hmm?”

“What… what are you…?”

“Just, sleep darlin’,” his voice made your core drip.

You tried to stay still and go to sleep but now you were more restless than ever. Thighs rubbing together at the feel of his hard body behind you, his large arm cradling your waist, it all made your head feel light and your cunt feel heavy.

“Can’t sleep if ya keep movin’,” he didn’t sound annoyed, just tired.

“Fuck, sorry I’m… sorry.”

“Whad’ya need darlin’?”

“My mind just won’t shut up,” you sounded more whiny than you meant to. “I need a distraction I guess. Sorry, just go to sleep.”

You would think you’re dreaming if you didn’t feel Joel’s callused hand rubbing your stomach through your thin shirt. His fingers danced across your stomach, the slight pressure making your skin tingle.

“Stop sayin’ sorry darlin’. Is this ok?”

God, it was better than ok, he was unknowingly playing into all your desires.

“Y-yes, it’s— good.”

He kept up his soothing movements while you tried to be unaffected. Even though he wasn’t being overtly sensual he was driving you mad with lust. He probably didn’t even know how he was affecting you. The lazy swipe of his fingers across your belly was lifting the fabric between your skin and his and he made no move to lower it again. Soon the raw feeling of his fingers met your stomach and you almost jumped at the sensation. After you settled again, his entire broad hand flattened against you causing you both to release a sigh. Maybe he needed this as much as you did.

He didn’t stop moving his hand but he now moved the rest of his body even closer somehow. His hand started to roam, skating the surface of your torso then your arm and hip. His touch was intoxicating, some kind of drug that you never knew you needed. You could sense Joel’s shift in mood soon after, there was something there now mixed with the tiredness clinging to him.

With the slight push of his hips into yours, it was clear. He was turned on.

His voice was deep and mirky in your ear, like the ocean on a dark night. “Darlin’, I— uh…,” His hand stilled on your hip.

“Joel… don’t stop.” You finally looked back at him, trying to convey as much sincerity as you could. “Please.”

And he didn’t stop. Touched every inch until you were both shaking.

His wide frame hovered over you as he pushed you into the mattress. Those large hands were surprisingly gentle as he cupped your face. Those brown eyes you were once so afraid to trust now looked at you with nothing but lust, compassion and maybe even… love.

The hardness between his legs ground against your core, the seam of his boxers rubbed against your clit sending a bolt of pleasure through you. His lips continued to brush across your skin, leaving marks in their wake. The thought of Joel leaving his claim on you to see in the morning made you burn hotter.

Clothes were shed as you two fell into a rhythm of grinding and touching. The feeling of Joel between your legs and his length against the skin of your thigh made you shiver. Before pushing into you like you anticipated, he crawled down your body, kissing and licking as he went. After pulling your thighs around his head Joel devoured you.

His tongue parted your lips and circled your nub with talent like you’ve never seen before. Boys have tried before to please you but Joel, a real man like Joel knows exactly what he’s doing. And he proves that as he works you open on his fingers and tongue. You’re writhing under him as you grip his curls, keeping him close to you. Not that he needs any convincing, he seems to be thoroughly enjoying himself if the moans he releases are any indication.

He eats his fill, drinks you down and before you know it you’re falling apart on his lips. Your heart refuses to slow down as he kisses from your knees to your neck, centering you again.

“I’ve never— wow…,” there were no words to describe what you were feeling.

“Never…?” You knew he was teasing you, trying to get you to say the words, his smirk told you as much.

“No ones ever… done that,” you reached up to kiss him, tasting yourself there. Your fingers traced where your lips just were, those amazing ones of his drawing your attention. “…with their mouths.”

“What? No one?” He seemed genuinely shocked.

“No, I didn’t even… know th-that was possible.”

“Oh baby, there’s so much I'm going to show you.”

He definitely showed you new things and how much better he was at old things than anyone else. All night. The way he opened you up on his fingers first came in handy as he was not a small man. He stretched you with his length, pumping into you as he held you close. The stark difference between his bruising hips and gentle hands made you writhe under him. When all was said and done and both of you exploded with pleasure with him buried inside of you, you felt Joel’s true feelings.

The way he cared for you the whole time, making sure you were comfortable and cleaning you up after. All of it showed you how much he cared for you, even if you might never hear the words, his actions were enough.

[pedgito]

𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐁𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 | Lucien Flores x reader

↝ other fics | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec | ko-fi

summary | this is for @iamasaddie's kinky may writing challenge, a mix of a kink i haven't tried writing before and character i adore dearly but know next to nothing about. this was really fun to try out and my first fic back in almost four months, cheers to finally being back ig? may we christen it with smut.

content warning | heavy smut, literally pwp (there's some backstory if you squint), sensory deprivation, safe words, some food consumption as foreplay, some bodily fluid exchange/consumption, gags/restraints/ect and all that good stuff, oral (m/f receiving), p in v unprotected sex, established relationship, lucien is still a relatively blank character so none of this is canon (just how my silly little brain likes to imagine him rn)

word count — 4.7k

The rain is quiet against the apartment window, a soft and slow pattering that matches the slow beat of your heart. You can’t see it, not in your current position as Lucien leans his knee into the mattress behind you and the bed dips, warm fingertips brushing over your cheeks and the shell of your ear as he carefully and methodically secures the blindfold in place with a knot that feels secure. He brushes his fingertip over your nose as he nitpicks and mumbles something under his breath, fixing the black material until your vision is completely hindered.

“Princesa,” His voice is a soft caress, “everything alright?”

Constant check-ins, reassurances, comfortability and security—it was all you felt with Lucien. Things had clicked with him so easily. It made your heart drop into your stomach with the first realization, unlucky with love to a fault that never let up. He had eyes on you from the moment you first met and they never drifted.

A mid-life crisis. You were younger, a subordinate under his wife, and unattainable by most standards and rules. Fetching coffees, keeping Rose on schedule and reminding her of all the never-ending events she kept yes-ing—Lucien and her had long been divorced but a chance encounter at an industry mixer had landed you here. A routine you’ve both upheld for the last six months and it felt real. You had solid ground to stand on with Lucien and he never diminished how you were feeling, even if you felt so embarrassingly naive about things.

And the sex had never steadily climbed and crescendoed—Lucien liked to ravish and devour in a way that had you holding your breath and helped him realize very quickly how overwhelmed you could get. It wasn’t necessarily bad, but there was too much outside distraction—him, the droning buzz of traffic outside of his apartment, the distant muffled television a room away that Lucien always forgot to turn off before settling down for the evening with you. 

You needed focus, grounding—given Lucien’s illustrious history and Hollywood rumors and all the things you’ve heard from around town and within the social networks you shared, he seemed like the furthest thing from a good choice.

But, the care and attention he showed you drowned it out entirely. 

Hell, he gave you a key to his apartment within a month and you’ve never seen anyone else visit him—he doesn’t host parties here, he doesn’t even let his ex-wife set foot past the threshold. It was your own little sanctuary.

You lift the blindfold slightly and ruin the work he’d done to get it just how he wanted, but he doesn’t seem to care.

“Hmm?” He’s got an eyebrow half-raise, features relaxed but masking an obvious worry that he didn’t want to harp about. “Yeah, yeah. I’m good.”

Lucien tilts his head, “How good?”

Just good. Kinda good. I’m only telling you I’m good so you don’t worry about me.

His thumb rubs at your chin and the thoughts float away and you allow yourself to live in the moment, reaping in the undivided attention this man showed you.

“Really good.” You reply salaciously, using the angle to your advantage as he towered over you on the bed, foot dragging along the inside of his thigh and pressing into the back of it until he lost his footing and slipped further into the deep pockets of the comforter. “Better if you start touching me like you kept promising over dinner.”

“Eager today?” Lucien teases as he crawls until he’s found his way between your legs, resting on his outstretched palm as he fixes your blindfold and darkness floods your senses again.

“Game recognizes game.” You retort, allow Lucien to use a guiding hand to settle you against the plush headboard, buttons pulling in on the fanned, velvet material. “I really need this today.”

There’s a soft shuffling and the familiar clink of expensive jewelry scattering against the bedside table—it was the forewarning that Lucien was prepared to make a mess of you, hammering that final nail in the coffin as he drags three fingers in a harmonious unison over your clothed pussy, the thin shirt you were wearing rubbing against the inside of his forearm as he applies just enough pressure to have you chasing after it when it fades away.

“I know, baby.” His voice drips like a warm honey, sticking to your skin and making you sweat. “Say your word.”

“Luce, we do this every time. I know it, we’re good.”

Silence lingered and you cleared your throat, the dip of pressure in the mattress between your legs from his hand, not allowing himself to touch you until you repeated it back to him.

You nod, “Peach.”

The small tick of a fond memory shows on his face, lips curling up at one side. It happens every time and Lucien knows it was meant as a playful jab in the beginning, but it quickly became something so sacred. 

You've only used it once and never out of fear or miscommunication—Lucien understood your limits and liked to push when you agreed, but one too many orgasms by his tongue as he buried his head between your thighs had eventually became too much and it was said through a shaky laugh, yanking at his curls until he surfaced.

Lucien, almost instantly, is there—mouth pressed against the barrier of your underwear, fingers curling around your thighs and spreading you apart with ample pressure, exploring your skin like uncharted territory, a new exploration. Like he hadn’t been going down on you for the last several months and already mapped out every inch of your body, knew all the shortcuts and quick routes.

The wetness soaked your underwear, the fleshy fat of his tongue rubbing hot and lapping at the heady taste of your arousal with a sigh before his fingers curl around the edges of your underwear where they cling to your hips, moving them down your legs and suddenly, despite being surrounded by darkness, the feeling of exposure is still daunting. Every time. 

“Tell me about your day.”

Then he’s licking a slow stripe down your center and you’re curling at the sudden touch, but quickly relaxing as he settles in, letting your fingers rest back in his soft curls, using your other senses while they are still available. Your mind wanders and wonders, thinking about the expertise and dexterity of his tongue. How if he really wanted you to come, he would have you there in less than a minute, but he was going easy.

“Boring,” Is all you have, “Most of the same.”

He’s just trying to fill the air, giving you a solid distraction outside of his filthy mouth. It’s not exactly his aim to bring up work during sex, especially when it’s in relation to his ex-wife.

“And dinner? How was it?”

Lucien purposefully flicks his tongue over your clit and you gasp softly, tugging at the strands of hair under your fingertips and you feel a hand rub at your lower back as it arches, a tender touch that you give into.

“Perfect,” It’s the truth, eternally grateful for his choice of personal chefs, because as much as you adored Lucien, he was not to be let into a kitchen, “delicious, as always.”

Lucien groans, deep and low against your pussy as his mouth sucks greedily at you, feeling his fingers inching closer and closer to your core, like he’s trying to take things slow for now, but the impatience is winning out. They’re tight at the apex of your thighs currently and just bordering on discomfort when he squeezes every time you moan or sigh or make even the smallest reaction to his mouth.

“R-right there,” You direct, canting your hips up despite his strong grip, “fuck, just—yeah, right there.” Lucien has always responded well, course-correction and sensing the way your body pulls him in, thighs squeezing around him as he dips a finger inside of you in time with his tongue, working you over mercilessly.

The lack of sight is making everything that more intense, searching for something to ground you, using your grip in Lucien’s hair, your other hand placed over his where it’s curled around your thigh as an anchor, feeling him speak against your cunt, filthy words you can’t quite catch but if you could see him, he would be sporting a shit-eating grin. 

The heat in your stomach coils, feeling the sensation down your spine as you whimper, one final swipe of his tongue over your clit within the immense build up of tension has you brokenly moaning out, “Come—fuck, I’m c-coming, Luce.”

Lucien laps at your greedily, prying your thighs apart forcefully.

“Shit—” His voice encourages, “—such a sweet fuckin’ pussy. Makes me fuckin’ crazy. Need you to taste it, baby.”

He’s already moving up your body as your lips part, your tongue dipping blindly into his mouth and tasting the headiness of you on his tongue, a sweet tang that isn’t unwelcomed. You don’t often make it a habit to kiss him after he’s gone down on you—he’s often messy, face a mix of saliva and you, smeared all over his chin, but the frenzy in his voice is hard to deny, giggling softly into his mouth as your teeth graze his bottom lip.

You’re still effectively blind, rubbing your palm over the inseam of his silk lounge pants, pulling at the delicate string that was struggling, tight against the length of his cock. Lucien grunts into your neck at the touch and widens his knees against the mattress, biting playful at your skin to soothe it moments later. His hands rub at your weak thighs, still shaking post-orgasm and you can’t help but be eager despite how much energy Lucien had worked out of you.

“Sit up,” You pointedly squeeze at his shaft and lean up, feeling the movement of his body follow. “—my turn.”

Lucien huffs in amusement, shuffling back on his knees as you sit upright. You reach for your blindfold but his hand engulfs your own, “Not yet.” He orders calmly.

You relinquish control to his guidance and sit on your calves as he places your hands flat against his bare chest, just above the softness of his stomach, feeling his heartbeat under your palms. “Like this.”

“But, I want to see you for this.” It’s nearly a beg, more of a test to see how easy he gives into your wants, but he chuckles in response and taps at your chin once. So, that was a no.

Despite how quickly he got off from a single look, his cock stuffed into your mouth and his hand gripping hard at the root of your scalp—maybe he was actually doing himself a favor.

Your shoulders slump slightly, barely noticeable but you smile and trail your fingertips down his abdomen, featherlight as the muscle flexes underneath your touch and they hover around the hem of pants as you lean forward and aim to press a kiss to his sternum, his chest, down and down until you feel your lips brush against the waistband.

“Take it out,” He encourages, “wanna watch you.”

You pull at the waistband with your teeth playfully, curious of just how quickly you're driving Lucien up the wall with the way you're acting, the material catching over his stiff, hard cock and allowing your hands to help you get them the rest of the way down. 

Lucien is kind enough to be a guiding hand, thumb pressed against the side of your jaw as he guides you forward, feeding the head of his cock past your lips, tongue dragging along the tip and under, the brush of foreskin like soft, warm velvet.

And you have him in the palm of your hand like this, despite how helpless you must look. It only takes a few minutes before Lucien is louder, mouthier with his words and harsh with his matching thrusts into your mouth.

Frustrated, Lucien pulls at the knot on your blindfold hastily, the soft grunts of his impending orgasm loud in your ears, feeling so starved of sight that when the blindfold falls away and your eyes open and you’re overwhelmed with light, ignoring the fact that Lucien’s cock was nearly pressing against the back of your throat.

But, it’s quickly nulled out by Lucien, towering over you and blocking most of the harsh fluorescence that drown out the room around you, eyes falling close again despite being free of the blindfold as you take him until your nose is pressing against his groin, the fingers resting at the back of your neck squeezing harshly.

Selfishly, he wants to keep you here for a while longer. A few minutes, a few hours.

“Relajate,” Lucien forces out, his mouth hanging open on the word as you pull away, now wide-eyed and wiping away the string of spit that connects you to him, “there’s no rush.”

You smirk at his words, grinning up at him before you lick at the head of his cock, wrapping your hand around his shaft as you respond, “For you, maybe. But, I want you to fuck me.”

Lucien’s fingers dance along the shell of your ear, drifting down the column of your neck until his palm covers the expanse of it before gripping firmly, a soft gasp ripping from your throat as he forces you to straighten, leaning down into your space.

“Slow, princesa,” Lucien demands, “Or you’ll regret it later.”

As if that didn’t already intrigue you enough, you nod subtly and return his mischievous grin.

Slow is what you give him, long strokes as you circle your tongue around the head of his cock, occasionally dipping your head down to lick the underside of his shaft, too dangerously close to his balls, taut from how obviously he was straining to hold off, his usually perfectly quaffed hair sticking to his forehead and every which way.

There is no wondering—you could do this all day if you wanted, bringing him right to the edge but never quite falling, like he enjoyed doing to you, a shared pastime you’ve explored a few times but clearly not enough—because eventually you just get impatient.

Thankfully he seems to understand, nodding as your lips hover near his cock, playful kisses pressed against his pubic bone and scattered around until you finally decide to swallow him down, a few minutes later and he’s coming down your throat, eyes watering at the force but his eyes are locked on your own and you swallow on instinct, taking a sharp breath when he finally pulls back, seemingly just as wrecked as you were a half hour ago as he slumps into the bed, landing on back beside you, his hand rubbing over your knee tenderly.

“Are you up for a snack?” 

You look at him quizzically, bemused at his question.

“Is that code?” You tease, fingers scratching at his overgrown stubble beard, “Should I be worried?”

“No, I’m hungry,” Lucien laughs gruffly, groaning as he turns on his side and slips off the bed, walking naked to the door and out of the room casually, coming back into the room with a sizeable plate of cut fruit and you grin, his heel forcing the door closed behind him. “See?”

He offers the plate up as proof as he sets it at the bedside table, though his fingers linger near the closed drawer a few centimeters beneath it. And you know where things are heading, the routine isn’t always the same, but Lucien liked to cover most, if not all the bases on nights where he was really needing the distraction. It seemed to be one of those nights, watching as his fingers dipped inside the drawer to grab the wrist restraints that hooked to the center of his headboard, a soft material that helped with comfort but made it damn near impossible to slip out if you really wanted to while your hands were hooked up.

But, that’s what Lucien wanted. The ability to trust that he would know your limits or that you would trust him enough to react to the safe word if you ever, for any reason, needed to use it.

“Oh—” Your gaze lingers and Lucien rubs the material in his hands.

“This alright?” He wonders, though the glint in your eye is enough of an answer.

You laugh softly through your nose and take the binding in his hand, slipping your wrist through the loops, leisurely scooting back until you hit the headboard, raising your arms above your head, “You tell me?”

Lucien chews absently at his bottom lip as he takes a rogue bite out of one of the strawberries on the plate before leaning onto his knee against the mattress, securing the restraint into place. A small latch that was also accessible to you if needed. He leans down quickly and you’re unprepared for the suddenness of it but he presses against you in a slow, sloppy kiss that leaves you chasing after the sweet juice that lingered in his mouth, mixed with the glass of malt whiskey he’d had earlier.

“Blindfold too?” You ask curiously.

Lucien shakes his head distractedly and takes his seat beside you on the bed, facing in the opposite direction so you’re both facing each other. The lack of clothing should feel distracting, but you’re too focused on his face, watching as he carefully bunches up the leaves on a strawberry and presses it to your lips, tongue curling around it and biting into it with a soft crunch.

‘What’s with the food?” You ask with a slightly furrowed brow, food stuffed in your cheek as you chew, “Not that I’m complaining but…this is…”

“Baby, relax,” He notices the tensing of the muscles in your forearm, nodding in the general direction—you hadn’t realized how hard you were curling your hands into fists until he pointed it out, “—remember the new assistant I hired?”

Another bite and the strawberry is done for, Lucien’s finger following as he wipes away the mess of juice around your bottom lip, savoring it for himself as he presses his thumb against his thumb and sucks and if he sees the way your thighs inch together, he doesn’t say anything. 

You hum in acknowledgment and chew at the fruit, remembering the fresh-faced and terrified young man who Lucien had given a shot to after firing his old assistant—the embezzling funds was a problem, but he also insisted that he needed a fresh start, but you didn’t think he meant that fresh.

“I was craving it,” Lucien shrugged, “He went and picked up a bunch of shit.”

“Craving it,” You mince the words and Lucien chuckles, noticing your pointed gaze, “—for a sex thing, clearly.”

Caught. Sort of. 

Lucien was big on trying new things—it was harmless, but the way he had tore into a peach during the picnic luncheon at for the acting agency both he and Rose worked under, eyes locked on you as he split it in half and shared the other half with you, less than careful about the way he cleaned up the juices on himself and you, finding yourself unexpectedly drooling over him in one of your less than finest moments. It was either the delicious fruit or an oral fixation. Maybe both. 

He shoved a slice of kiwi between his teeth and leaned forward, pressing the fruit into your mouth and following with his tongue, devouring you into a kiss that has you whining quietly into his mouth, pulling away as you leaned forward to chase after him, chewing at the fruit in annoyance as you slumped back.

“Play nice, princesa.” Lucien teases.

“I am,” You retort with a sharp bite in your town, “you are making me wait.”

Lucien takes the ringlet slice of pineapple and squeezes it over your bare chest, down the valley of your breasts and you gasp at the sudden change in temperature against your hot to the touch skin, eyes snapping to the liquid traveling to your belly button.

“Lucien!” 

You shriek, watching as he tossed the mangled fruit aside and made his ascent, licking from your belly button to the junction of your neck in one go, hovering over you with a devilish smile.

“If you don’t fuck me right now—” You gritted through clenched teeth and he presses his forehead against your own, giving you nowhere to hide as he stares you down, “I swear to god, Luce—”

“You trust me, right?”

“Stupid question,” You retort, nudging him back with your nose, “of course.”

Lucien hides the bemused expression on his face as he looks away, leaning over the side of the bed for a couple items that are out of your line of sight but quickly come into view as he lays them against your stomach, his thighs slotted underneath your own, taut muscle rubbing against your skin.

“Thought we could,” He separates them out carefully along your abdomen, “try a few at once.”

A gag—familiar and frequently used, black leather around a silicone black ball. A different blindfold, more like a sleep mask—it looked like Lucien’s sleep mask, actually. He could use the traditional one he tends to stick with but it seems he’s aiming for comfort here, fingers tracing along the last item with a raised brow.

“Ear buds? Really, Lucien? Headphones?” You giggle softly, “You want me to listen to music while we—”

“No, no—” Your laughter is infectious and he chuckles too, “baby, they’re just noise canceling.”

“Oh?” Your wrist yanks in interest before you realize you’re still restrained.

“If it’s too much, we don’t have to.” Lucien is very clear about that, fingertips pressed into the sheets beside your hips. 

“You really like when I give over control, don’t you?” You tease playfully.

“Como siempre.” He says softly before leaning down to nip at your breasts, eyes flicking up at you.

“Okay, yes. But—” You look up at your hands, bound but not uncomfortable, “maybe no blindfold. I’ll keep my eyes closed but I want to see you. I like being able to see you.”

Lucien nods in agreement, a slow and treatours pace he takes as he retreats, tongue dragging down the center of your body and still tasting slightly of citrus. He smirks at your obvious squirming before doing away with the blindfold and allowing himself to get everything else in order.

The gag comes first, a small muffled grunt as he tightens the strap around the back of your head, adjusting it until you give him a solid nod. It helped that despite your inability to communicate verbally that Lucien had created a way for you to rid yourself of your wrist restraints whenever everything felt a little too much but you weren’t worried about using your safe word, a small latch connected to the metal chain that linked you to the headboard, easily accessible. And then the headphones, an odd experience to say the least—you can’t imagine what kind of money Lucien wasted on these because they immediately drown out all noise, the small buds resting in your ears and relatively out of sight.

It feels ridiculous, but when Lucien speaks and you can’t hear, your heart races with an anticipation you’ve never felt before. Exhilaration, more like.

You have no other choice than to watch—watch as Lucien settles comfortably back, kneeling as he runs his fingers along the underside of his cock and down to his balls, cupping them and rolling them around leisurely, your eyes watching every single movement, teeth baring down gently around the ball as he fists him, fingers dragging over his shaft and working himself up quickly, his chest slightly flushed from a mix of your previous activities and now, his eyes never settling on one piece of your body for too long.

You communicate through nods and eye contact, feelings incredibly vulnerable in the moment, watching as Lucien pressed himself inside of you with slow intention and you swear you can hear the deep exhale he forces out through his nose as it flares before he settles and gives you no time at all to prepare, a small gasp escaping you as your finger tighten around the slack in the strap connection your wrist cuffs to the bed, a slow but deep snap of his hips that shatters your focus, back arching into his touch as his fingers run along your spine and dig in, gripping you tight, practically sitting in his lap with the angle he has you held at.

“Mi vida,” He sighs, knowing you can’t hear him, “mi vida, mi vida, mi vida,” growing quiet with every utterance of it, “too perfect for me, baby.”

The vibration of his voice is pressed against your collarbone, his nose dragging along the junction of your neck and you’re so curious of what he’s saying, but you try not to let your mind wander—not that he allows much of that, gradually switching the pace to something stronger.

You wished you were stronger than Lucien liked to give you credit for, but you do find that your impatience eats away at you, coming in short whines and pleading looks and Lucien catches your gaze, eyes soft and watery. 

He’s breathing out in short grunts through his mouth and you can see his nose scrunch up as he groans, fingers digging into your skin, squeezing tight at your hips—you can’t do it anymore, reaching your fingers up to grasp at the latch keeping your arms hoisted up, falling back in a heap with Lucien pressed against your chest, hastily slipping your hands out of the binding.

Lucien catches on quickly, working the gag off and tossing it aside, hearing it clink heavily against a nearby object but neither of you bother looking and quickly discarding the headphones on the nightstand, his forearms coming around your head to barricade you in.

You’ve never felt more safe.

“Pobrecita, come on,” Lucien coos, “ask for it, yeah? You want me to touch you?” Lucien moans heavily against your skin, your own hands twisting it his hair, fingers curling gently around the back of his ears, “Want me to make you come with my cock inside you? Is that what you need?”

“Yes,” You whine softly, “touch me—please, just touch me.”

He doesn’t move quick enough, finding that your hand quickly searches for his own, pressing it between your bodies and his fingers know you, working like muscle memory as he circles your clit a combination of his middle and ring and it’s nearly instantaneous, a mix of built up tension and desperate need for release. Your fingers pinch at the skin of his neck as you come, pulling the hair at the nape of neck and breathing in a sharp gasp, mouth hung open in silence as your eyes squeeze shut.

“That’s it, baby.” Lucien breathes quietly, pressing a gentle kiss to your breast as you come, eventually finding your lips and kissing you thoroughly, silencing your weak moans, chest heaving deeply in the aftermath as he pulls back, nothing he’s on the edge himself.

“I want you in my mouth again,” You sound desperate, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze from where he towers over you, fists gripping the sheets, “wanna taste us together, baby.”

Lucien rises suddenly, one palm pressed against the headboard as he grips his cock with the other, quickly spilling over your stomach, a sigh punches from his chest as he comes down, flush with a slight embarrassment at how easily it was for you to work him up.

“Or not,” You say through a tired laugh, soft and airy, “too much?”

“Never.” Lucien assures, brow furrowing in amusement as he drags a finger through the mess he made, bringing it to your mouth and allowing you to suck, lick, and make an over the top and unnecessary show as you swallow his cum and Lucien feels his cock twitch between his legs, despite how tired his body felt. 

“Jesus, princesa,” He laughs, “—greedy tonight?”

You mirror his actions, bringing your own finger into the mess before pressing it into his mouth—and Lucien opens with a lust-drunk grin, capturing your wrist in a tight grip and licking off his own spend from your finger.

“Absolutely.”

And thank god, because your night was far from over.

↝ beta: @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

↝ divider credit: yours truly.

[furious-rogue-stuff]

Me every time I see Pedro:

[techsazalea]

[encisthings]

[yvain]

Red Rooms (2023) and “The Lady of the House of Love” by Angela Carter