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marblehazel · 1 month ago

Text

Sitter

dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

You’re spending spring break alone at home while your father is five thousand miles away when all of sudden, you fall sick. Enter Joel Miller: your father’s buddy, sent by him to check on you.

Tags: Explicit MDNI, no outbreak, age gap, no mother in the picture but your father has a named girlfriend (sorry), no bra household, dry humping, footjob while watching SpongeBob, oral (m and f receiving)

Word count: 6.8k

“Dad,” your voice is hoarse like it has just come out from a dying goose, and you spend the next five seconds trying to clear your throat.

“So like, I’m… sick, kinda, but it’s not really bad, so—” A train of coughs that feels like they are going to tear your lungs apart. “—sorry about that. It’s nothing. Don’t worry too much, don’t even think about it. I just wanted to let you know.” Another coughing fit. “Okay. Have fun, I love you.”

You click your phone screen and let the voicemail find its way to your father’s ancient block of telecommunication. It’s 11 p.m. for you, 5 a.m. in Tuscany, you calculate with your fingers. You might be wrong. Either way, your father is probably asleep. He had been away for a couple of days with his girlfriend Amy for her nephew's wedding. And they plan to spend another week there, because it’s their anniversary, and Amy had always wanted to go to Italy.

“Will you be okay?” your father asked, apologetic. He leaned onto your bedroom door’s frame while you were unpacking your backpack.

“Yeah, Dad, what am I, eight? Go.” you laughed lightheartedly.

“It’s just you came down here from school and then I go, you know. I wish you’d said yes and come with us.”

“And third-wheeling you and Amy for ten days?” you giggled. “Dad, it’s okay. Come on. We’ll still have the weekend together when you come back.”

You heard Amy call for your father from downstairs, followed by a question about his dress shirt. You grinned, gesturing for him to go.

“Me and Amy will make sure the fridge is full, okay?” he says, voice fading as he steps down the stairs. You shook your head. You’ve survived on dry ramens and day-old coffees in college. You would be okay. Right?

Loud buzzer sound. The game show on the TV you put on to distract yourself from the fever is not doing a good job. You try to focus, but the noises coming out of it sound muffled, and the colors are just so bright and saturated that they make your head spin. You click on mute before slamming the remote on the coffee table, and it lands safely on some crumpled Kleenex. A thermometer is sitting next to the box, the tiny display screen blank. It’s broken, and you make a mental note to scold your father for always keeping faulty things around the house as if he’s going to fix them. A few bottles of pills you fished out of your father’s medicine cabinet to at least ease your aching muscles are toppled next to a half-empty Nyquil Nighttime Relief bottle with its cap screwed but crooked.

You second-guess your decision to let your father know that you’re unwell. But again, he hates surprises, so letting him know that he might find your rotting corpse in front of his TV when he gets back is, perhaps, doing him a favor.

It’s dark in the living room, and the leather couch is sticking to your sweaty leg. You should probably put sweatpants and a hoodie on instead of biker shorts and a stretched out shirt that looks more like a rag than a proper clothing item. But climbing the stairs now? No, thank you.

You shift your body, trying to find the best position to fall asleep in since the wrong angle seems to block your nasal passage. A groan leaves your throat when you can’t pull the fleece blanket to cover your body. You find out you are sitting on both ends of it. To hell with it.

You blink slowly. The Nyquil seems to start working. Can’t sneeze or cough if you’re knocked out, you think. You close your eyes, the colors from the TV somehow find their way in and flash washed-out red, white, yellow behind your eyelids. You’re too tired to reach for the remote.

Maybe you’ll feel better when you wake up.

You jolt when something cold makes contact with your forehead. Within microseconds, you yeet the thing away hysterically, hitting yourself in the process. The thing flies and lands on the wooden floor with a wet, thwap sound.

“Easy, easy,”

If it was just a little bit not so sudden and confusing and designed to constrict your blood vessels until your organs fail, you would have yelped. You nearly snap your neck trying to find the source of the voice, and your tense shoulders fall as quickly as they were raised when you notice the familiar face belonging to a broad frame standing next to the couch.

It’s Joel Miller.

Of course it’s him. Your father likely has him on speed dial.

He and your father go way back. Went to the same school, crushed on the same girls, hit the same bong, and so on. They were even in a band together. Your father has pictures of them from years ago, with greasy hair, earrings, bass and drumsticks in their hands. Cringe.

Well, just your father. Not Joel though.

You haven’t seen him in like, what, a year? And yet he looks good as ever. Well, Joel has always looked good his whole life. When you saw the pictures of him from high school you thought, Oh Fuck, I Would Totally Have A Crush On This Guy. And then you had to sit in silence and ponder, because, well, you are having a crush on this guy. Sort of. Maybe.

He bends over to pick up the thing you just yeeted on the floor, which is apparently a washcloth, and dunk it in a basin on the side table, which is now clean from all the stuff that was previously there.

“Joel,” you chirp. “Hi.”

“Hey.” he smiles as he squeezes the washcloth. Beads of water come trickling down his knuckles back to the basin, gleaming in front of the still-turned-on TV. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay. What time is this?” you straighten up, rummaging around the blanket to find your phone to no avail.

“One-thirty. Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. Your old man asked me to check on you." He folds the cloth in two and dab it before stepping closer and pressing it against your forehead, nice and cold. His other hand supports your head from the back, basically cradling your skull.

“Your front door was unlocked when I came in.” says Joel, as if you are capable of digesting any kind of information at the moment. “You shouldn’t do that.”

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly. “And sorry my Dad made you come here. You didn’t have to, it’s not so bad.”

“Come on, it’s only a ten minute drive. ‘S okay. I checked your forehead. Not too bad, but still a fever, y’know. You took the Nyquil?”

The thought of Joel Miller touching your forehead with his palm in the dark while you were asleep somehow makes the neurons in your brain stop interlinking for a second. Were you sleeping with your mouth open the whole time? You knew you did fall asleep that way since you couldn’t breathe through your nose. Man.

“I did.” you nod, shaking the thought away. You feel your lungs tighten, though. Another coughing fit incoming.

“Good,” Joel presses his hand to your forehead again as if trying to make sure the wet washcloth is properly glued onto your face. The soft pressure disrupts your composure and you cough like a machine gun submerged in a container full of Elmer’s glue, hacking up thick mucus up your throat. Joel leaves your side with hurried steps and, within seconds, somehow has a paper cup under your chin for you to spit into.

You try to grab the cup, flustered, but he doesn’t let go and instead helps you sit up straight, patting your back.

“Spit.” he says as you wheeze with phlegm in your mouth like an imbecile. You awkwardly grab his wrist for support and spit the mucus out into the cup. Soon you’ll realize how foolish it is to grab someone’s wrist using the same hand you used to cover your mouth while coughing. The string of saliva takes a ridiculously long time to break free from your lips, but Joel is unfazed. He takes a glance at the mucus, likely checking the color and consistency.

“Thanks,” you blink rapidly, still processing.

“You wanna go to urgent care?” Joel asks.

“Nu-uh,” you shake your head. “I’m okay, I promise. I feel a lot better already.”

“It’s probably just a bug,” he pats your back again before walking to the kitchen to dispose of the cup. “How long has it been going on?”

You wait until he comes back because you don’t think you can speak loud enough for him to be able to hear you from the kitchen without tearing your throat apart. Joel thinks you didn’t hear him the first time and is about to repeat his question when you say, “Uh, it got progressively worse last night.” you realize how serious that sounds and quickly add, “But not like, worse worse. I mean, compared to,”

“And before that?”

“Just a scratchy throat.”

He looks like he’s mentally taking notes with arms folded in front of his stomach. It’s the first time that night you take a full look at him under the glow of the muted TV. You can’t really make the colors out, but he’s wearing a dark t-shirt under an unbuttoned flannel shirt and jeans. He’s keeping his beard kind of thin compared to the last time you saw him, but still the same, well-tended mustache that makes a strong presence over his lips. You can’t help but notice the graying strands of hair that stick out among his dark, messy hair, complimenting him so well. You are pretty sure the ratio between light to dark hair has been shooting up this year. You like it.

And his eyes. They’re rich, and dark, and the fact that he furrows half of the time that it creates permanent dents between his eyebrows just makes him ridiculously hotter.

The mucus factory must be working overtime tonight because you can feel the slight slippery feeling of lubrication where you’re sitting. Fucking stupid, you think, read the room.

All of sudden, a lightning flashes, lighting up your surroundings before the grumbling roar of thunder follows through. For a second, you can make out the shapes and silhouettes of everything in the room like a photograph. Joel fits rightly in the left third of this main piece in your mind exhibition. You wish you could take screenshots with your eyes and keep it to admire later.

Joel glances out the window. Heat lightning reveals the blobs of clouds outside, and the strong wind is starting to blow debris to rattle the windows. He shifts his focus on you again. “Did you eat?”

“I’m okay,” you shrug. Storm is coming, Joel better go home before it gets worse.

He chuckles. “Yes or no?”

That chuckle tickles something deep inside of you. You smile shyly. “Yes, Joel. I’m okay.”

Joel stares at you, and you are pretty sure he senses that you did not, in fact, eat dinner. “I’m starvin’, actually,” he gets up and takes his flannel shirt off, and then tosses it on the couch before making his way towards the kitchen. You scream internally at the sight of his biceps like a deranged fangirl.

“Mind if I take a look in the fridge?” he yells while opening the fridge door. Just being polite. He knows your father will let him dismantle the house and take the pieces home if he wants to.

You free the tangled blanket from around your legs, only noticing now how under your old, sweat-dampened, Marlin Club shirt, your nipples are as erect as fireman’s poles. Was it the temperature, Joel, or both, you can’t conclude.

Joel whistles when he finds that the fridge is full. He grabs a can of beer and pops it open, studying the contents of the fridge and thinking of what he can cook for you as he gulps the beer down.

You follow him to the kitchen, jump to sit on the kitchen island as Joel grabs some produce off the fridge and sets them next to you. He looks at you, blinks a couple of times, then occupies himself with the food cabinet over the counter. You try to be helpful by unwrapping the basil and cherry tomatoes.

“So, how’s school?” Joel breaks the silence as he washes his hands. “And don’t just say okay, please.”

“You got me there,” you laugh. “Nothing really amusing, really.”

Then a few more superficial, classic-catching-up questions while you both prepare the pesto. Joel asks about the trip to Italy, how your father mentioned proposing to Amy soon, what do you think about that. You ask about his brother Tommy, work, and the average cost to renovate a room, to which Joel answers in detail really nicely. Then come the usual do-you-remember-when stories, melting down the strange and awkward atmosphere between the two of you. Laughters fill up the room. It’s fun and familiar.

“Did you remember when you used to call me Uncle Joel?” Joel sneers as he tosses a pan to the sink. “You used to be so nice and polite.”

“I was like six!” You snorted. “And you can’t even pay me to call you that again, Joel.”

Then, the once-your-pops-and-I anecdotes. You’ve heard some of them from your own father’s mouth, but you still listen to Joel’s versions eagerly anyway.

At one point, you start to cough again so Joel instructs you to just sit down on the counter. You don’t complain—it means you can just sit back and watch him from the back and imagine how it would feel to run your fingers through his hair.

When Joel stirs the pasta with the pesto sauce, the weather has gone full-blown insane out there.

“You should stay the night,” you try to sound as nonchalant as possible. His presence is sending arrays of erroneous signals to your reproductive organs, which will most likely result badly if he stays, but how can you let him drive home in this kind of weather?

Joel hands you a fork and pushes a plate of fusilli for you to eat. “Eh, we’ll see,” he shrugs. “I don’t mind drivin’ through a storm, but I can’t just leave you alone if you don’t feel well.”

“Dad told me you got a folded chair smashed through your windshield last summer.” You take a bite, the thick sauce coats your tastebuds and you groan in satisfaction, even though you can’t really taste it to the fullest because of your stuffy nose.

“Oh, yeah, that.” Joel chuckles. “I was lucky it aimed for the shotgun.”

He eats standing up across you, one elbow on the counter. When you both finish the meal, he takes your plate and starts washing the dishes. You tell him to do it later, and then offer your help, and he says no to both. You insist on drying the dishes anyway, standing side by side with him.

After the very late dinner, the two of you retreat to the living room. Joel asks you to take some medication again and you decline, stating that you feel better already.

“Headstrong, ain’t ya?” Joel sighs. “Okay, sleep then. Wanna sleep in your bed?”

“Not really sleepy,” you shake your head. “Feel free to take Dad’s bed, by the way. You have work in the morning, right?”

“Nah, I’m alright by the couch.” Joel scoots to make room for his legs and lies on his back, groaning like every other old person when they finally get to be horizontal. His feet are dangling on one side, his head on the opposite armrest. You take the old recliner that doesn’t even recline anymore near Joel’s feet, facing both the TV and Joel at an angle.

The TV is still on, showing the same game show but already on a later season. You unmute it and watch it together with Joel for five minutes before you realize that none of you has laughed yet, and you ask Joel if he wants to watch a movie instead. He says why not.

You open a streaming service and browse for movies on the home page. Joel probably likes action and other classic old man genre types. You pretend to read some of the summaries and see if Joel perks up at one of them, but he doesn’t seem to really care about the TV.

“I don’t know what to watch,” you admit. “Do you wanna pick the movie?”

Truth is, Joel can’t give a single shit about no goddamn movie. He’s been distracted by so many thoughts in his mind. But he gestures for you to scroll back up anyway. “Let’s see the trending ones.”

You stop at a tally of newly released and currently popular films at the top of the page, giving Joel a chance to read about them before moving to the next one.

“This one looks excitin’.” Joel points at the screen. The poster shows a man in classic Viking attire, staring intently at the viewer with striking blue eyes. Some kind of pelt is draped over his shoulders. His hands are on top of each other, resting on a sword handle, the blade facing the earth. Dried mud and blood are splattered over his face and armor. The Conquest, it says. You don’t recognize the actors listed. The summary says something about revenge, passion, blood, power, blah blah. You click play.

The movie opens with a battle scene. The movie looks like it runs out of lighting budget, and you need to squint to be able to tell what they are actually doing. Nothing can be heard except grunts and blades clashing. You look over at Joel to see his expression, but he’s looking at you. He quickly averts his gaze back to the screen.

Twenty minutes pass, and none of you are really paying attention to the plot. Not until the main guy enters a wooden tub filled with steaming hot water with his asscheeks out, and then a woman enters the scene with nothing but a thin white veil covering her body. She drops the cloth and joins him. The warm light from the torches is highlighting her breasts.

“Woah,” you look at Joel again, but he says nothing, but you can see his Adam’s apple moving awkwardly.

They kiss, and he grabs her bosom with his humongous palms and knead them. Then he buries his face between them, with the woman kissing the top of his head. After what feels like a millenia, he lifts her lower half from the water, and then puts her down to sit on the edge of the tub before performing cunnilingus. She moans.

You start to feel a pool of heat brewing inside of you. This feels invasive of their privacy, somehow, with no soundtrack added, just fire crackling and water splashing and erotic moaning.

Joel clears his throat. “Uh, maybe we shouldn’t watch this,”

“You’re the one who picked the movie.” you say, eyes fixated on the screen.

“Well, it didn’t say nothin’ about eatin’ a lady out in the summary.”

He reaches for the remote and turns the TV off, leaving only the sound of rain hitting your window in your eardrums.

“Hey,” you whine. “That’s not nice. I didn’t say yes.”

“It’s late. Go to sleep.” Joel folds his arms over his chest, partly staying warm, partly because he’s so flustered he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He then closes his eyes, knowing damn well he’s far from feeling tired let alone fall asleep.

“We’re both adults anyways,” you mutter, but Joel doesn’t move. He’s probably actually tired.

Your gaze is affixed on him. He surely doesn’t look like he’s sleeping in peace right now but he’s still handsome nonetheless. His old shirt is a tad bit too tight around his biceps. You can see the protruding veins beautifully decorating his arms and hands. His legs are slightly crossing with one ankle on top of another, and his breath is steady. He’s gorgeous.

In your wildest dreams, you would jump to straddle Joel, and he would grab your hips and fuck you to death. Is it bad that your immune system is fighting one of the worst battles in your life, and yet your number one priority is somehow to get laid, by this man specifically? It’s both excruciating and foolish.

The movie you just saw doesn’t help, either. In fact, it makes everything worse. Your mind keeps wandering back to it, the way the man eats the woman out, and then back to Joel, imagining the top of his head would look like when he eats you out. Fuck. You know that if you don’t get to touch this man in the next 30 minutes, you are either going to combust or burn everything in the vicinity.

You close your eyes, try to do the mindfulness practice you once saw in a magazine. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. You repeat “Release me from this earthly desire” in your head like a rookie buddhist wizard trying to cast a spell with a broken wand. You ball your fists in your lap so hard the joints start to hurt.

It’s not working.

Your mind keeps wandering back to different scenarios, different positions, different spots around the house. Low grunts, fingertips pressing your sides, tongue between your lips…

You can’t do it anymore. You need release. You need to at least be able to feel something, a little reward for your throbbing clit. Trying your best to be as casual as possible, you pull your folded legs closer to your body, your left heel even closer to your biker-short-covered cunt, and shift your body weight on it.

The pleasure that has been building up there bursts like a balloon. You sigh.

There are two things that Joel is not: young, and oblivious.

Oh, he is totally aware of what’s happening. You are not doing a good job trying to be subtle. From the non-stop staring, to the constant fidgeting, to the borderline sexual sighs, to the hard nipples, Joel knows you are going through something that is completely different from just being ill.

And he totally understands. He’s been there, done that. There was a time when his back wasn’t hurting and his face hadn’t been ‘graced’ with crow’s feet and age spots yet, when his hormones were at all-time high and his blood liked nothing more than flowing to his cock recklessly at the slightest inducement. He understands what you are going through.

So when you start grinding yourself onto your left heel followed by soft moans, he is not exactly surprised, just mostly in awe of your debauched audacity.

That is too much, even for him. He clears his throat, hoping you’d catch the hint and stop for good. But you don’t, and your eyes are closed and your eyebrows are knitted together in concentration, and your hips are moving slowly, sensually, chasing something, the sight of it stirs something up in his guts.

It is vulgar, and most importantly indecent in every way, but Joel can feel his own arousal creeping up no matter how hard he tries to convince himself that it is not happening.

He calls your name. Your body responds faster than the critically thinking part of your brain and you stop like you just got cursed by Medusa.

You can physically feel your heart drop to your ass. Your neck moves stiffly to find his eyes like a broken animatronic. “Yeah?” you croak.

“Do you think I don’t know what you’re doin’?”

You blink. Deny? Act stupid? Admit? Deny, deny. Wait, deny? No, act stupid.

“What… Do you mean?” you say, and you realize that you chose the dialogue option that actually sounds the dumbest.

Joel clicks his tongue. “Might as well hump me if you want it that much.”

Wait, what? Your eyes light up. “Really?”

Joel stares at you in genuine perplexity before lifting one hand up to massage his temples. He takes a deep breath, and in the softest way possible—like telling a puppy she can’t eat electronic parts—sighs, “No.”

“Oh,” you cover your mouth. “I thought you meant—“

“Yeah, yeah. My bad.” he sighs again, sounding significantly more frustrated. He then uses his hands to support himself to a sitting position, composing himself.

Silence. You don’t dare to look at Joel, but your cunt keeps pulsing like a metal detector. You understand that the beeping—desire—will not die down unless you get the valuable artefact from the bronze age—Joel—in your hand. Is this time to be bold and brash?

“Joel,” you call, and you can swear that was not a sober decision, but the stage curtains have been pulled back, and you are pushed to the stage to play your part.

“Hm?”

“What if… I hump you anyway?” you stand up, and your knees are slightly buckling but you act tough and bold regardless.

Joel’s jaws opens and stays slightly agape for a while before he says, “That fever is really messin’ with your brain, huh? Sit down.”

“You’re bricked up, Joel.” you accuse. You don’t actually know for sure since Joel keeps a hand on his lap to cover his crotch, but Joel gulps. Gotcha.

“Unrelated to you.” he hisses in defense.

You scoff.

“Joel, please,” you grouse, voice cracking and desperate. “I want this so bad.” you whisper as you take slow, threatening steps towards Joel until your crotch is not even an inch away from his knee. “I want you so bad.”

“This ain’t right, kid.” Joel puts a hand on the outer side of your arm, and it’s worth pointing out that he’s shaking. “You know that.”

Joel doesn’t tell you that he’s battling demons in his head, and he’s currently losing. A million impulses are catapulting burning boulders onto the gate of his conscience, and all he got is one bleeding, sickly troop with a chipped wooden sword. But he puts his best stern expression despite the fact that his body is betraying him.

He could leave now. Push you away. Clear his head. Come back later. Or not come back at all.

But he knows he doesn’t want to. He can hear his blood rushing and his heart singing battle cry. Not to mention his cock, hard and nearly burns a hole through his jeans.

A long pause. You want to push him further, but you know you don’t need to. The black marlin printed on your shirt does a worthless attempt at distracting Joel from your hard nipples, putting him into a trance.

Joel takes a deep breath. He knows he has lost. “You can help yourself, that’s all,” he nods, more trying to convince himself rather than talking to you. “Just to make you shut up and get rest. That’s it.”

That’s an unenthusiastic barf-colored green light, but it is a green light nonetheless.

You put your hands on Joel’s shoulder before putting your left knee next to his right leg and lower yourself down onto his thigh, while your other knee rests in front of his crotch and presses onto his raging hard-on. Your cunt pulsates in pleasure upon contact, and you let out a gasp. Joel anxiously places his hands on your sides to keep you steady, one thumb ‘accidentally’ brushing your nipple, earning a whine. You lock gaze with him, and start moving.

The friction sends buzzes up your head. You make each grind count, and every single one feels like heaven despite the layers of fabric between your cunt and his beefy thigh. Moans and Joel’s name spill from your lips indeliberately, and he tightens his grip on your body until his fingertips turn white as if you would fly away with a gust of wind if he doesn’t. If you weren’t so absorbed in your own pleasure, you would’ve noticed how shallow and rapid Joel’s breath has become. It turns him on watching you getting off because of him, using him, how your eyelids flutter and your pupils are having a hard time staying in place.

Joel wants to break free from his denim, badly. While he consciously thought, planned, and stated that he’s doing what he’s doing only for your satisfaction and be done with it, it isn’t exactly nice having your kneecap pushing button-flies shaped caves on his crotch repeatedly. Especially not when his cock, which probably has its own brain, has been begging to be taken care of, too.

You, on the other side, are having the best time of your life. As your climax is building up in your south region, you smile at Joel, who smiles back. His hand leaves your ribs briefly to brush the hair that is sticking to your sweaty forehead away from your face.

“That feels good, doesn’t it?”

You nod weakly. “So good, Joel, so good,”

For a moment there you consider kissing him. His face is merely two inches away from you, and he looks ravishing, all sweaty and blushing. And how you just want to have your tongue inside his mouth, his lips all over yours sloppily. But that feels like overstepping boundaries, like a whole uncharted area you can’t cross, spreading the flu aside. You opt to put your chin on his shoulder instead, trying to focus on your orgasm.

“I want to see your face,” Joel says in your ear, his beard grazing your cheek. Takes you three whole seconds to process that, and when you do, it tingles your core. Before you can answer, he continues, “You’re so beautiful like this.”

You pull back, meeting his gaze with flushing cheeks. You don’t know what to say, and maybe you don’t have to. You continue to be dumbfounded when Joel stops your motion and helps you to stand up.

“Hold on,” he says as he undoes the buttons of his jeans. “I need to take these off.”

He quickly kicks the jeans off his legs, revealing a dark gray boxer briefs under. A wet patch adorns the bulge right in the center. He then manspreads and gestures for you to come back onto him, to which you comply. “C’mere,” he says, “I need to feel you on me.”

You straddle him, positioning your cunt right on his cock, and on everybody and their mother, it feels good. No, it feels right. Joel lets out a groan that cuts into a gasp when you start to grind. “Fuck, yeah,” he grabs your ass, helping you settle on a rhythm.

The contour of Joel’s cock, albeit still covered by the fabric of his boxer briefs, touches every last nerve ending of your cunt in such a different way that his thigh did. You pick your pace up, getting the pleasure to build up again.

“Joel, I’m gonna come,” you moan, voice quivering. You rake your fingers through his hair, your noses almost touching.

“Keep going, baby,” he says through a smile. “Don’t hold back. You sound so pretty.”

The encouragement is shooting up fireworks in your lower belly, and you start making more sounds. You’re close. So close.

“Makin’ me so hard all night, you,”

You whimper as you come, hips convulsing. Time slows down, and it feels like your cunt is pulled towards a strong gravitational force within your own body as you are sinking down a quicksand, all while pleasure forces your brain to reboot itself.

“That’s it, that’s it. There you go. You’re so good.”

Joel holds the back of your head while you’re laying on his chest, limp. When you pull yourself away from him, he presses a palm to your cheek, smiling. “Attagirl.”

When you finally gather yourself, you pull away from Joel, leaving a huge wet spot on where you just had your cunt on, and scoot to the spot next to him on the couch. You are about to lean onto his shoulder when he stands up and picks his jeans up from the floor. He sees the wet trail of arousal you left on the fabric in the thigh area and snickers.

“Damn, kid, you’re practically a snail,” he points to it. “Poor thing.”

You wince. “What are you doing?”

“Puttin’ my pants on?” he answers in the exact same tone, fixing the position of his boxer briefs.

“But you haven’t even come yet!” you protest. “What the fuck? Take them off!”

“That’s not what I agreed to, remember? I help you come so you’ll shut up and sleep. You’ve come, now shut up, and go to sleep.” he lays it out like basic math while you press the base of your palms onto your eyelids, confounded.

“You’re a sick person,” you shake your head, and then point to his crotch. “You’re literally still hard.”

“That has nothin’ to do with anythin’.”

You stare at the open space, like you’re trying to break the fourth wall in a sitcom. Can you believe this guy?

“Joel, your line is ‘I’m going to fuck you so hard.’ Now let’s start again from the top.”

Joel, who’s struggling trying to fit his bulge back in the jeans without hurting it, stops fussing with his button-fly shortly to push your head back—softly—to the couch. “Sleep,” he drags his palm over your face to close your eyelids.

“Joooooel,”

“Your line is ‘Yes, Joel, good night.’”

“Yes, Uncle Joel, good night, Uncle Joel,” you mock as you swiftly jump from the couch and pull his jeans down to his ankle and force him to step out of it. You hear Joel yelling hey, hey, hey as he tries to simultaneously fight you and not hurt you. You throw the pair of pants across the room with all your might and it lands with a loud thud.

“What are your pants made of, steel?”

“What is wrong with you?” he takes a step to fetch it, but you stand up and push him back to the couch. Joel is for sure going easy on you, because if he wanted to, he could definitely launch you through the walls. Instead, he just accepts his fate and stares at the ceiling, defeated.

“Nobody sleeps with jeans on, Joel,” you reach for the TV remote again. “Now let’s watch something again and then sleep.”

“We’re not watching the viking movie again.”

“We’re not watching the viking movie again,” you repeat. “We’re watching SpongeBob.”

Joel groans.

“What, you don’t like SpongeBob?”

“Not my era,” Joel says. “I watched Gumby. Tom and Jerry. The Muppet Show.”

“No wonder you act like the heckling old guys.”

“I don’t, but, sure,”

“Oh, you’re more like the eagle. So serious all the time.”

Joel rolls his eyes. You play the first episode of the first season of SpongeBob Squarepants, and the familiar intro begins. You take a look at Joel in the corner of your eyes, how he has one of his forearm on the top of his head, bicep almost as thick as his head. The other hand is resting on his thigh, and you can tell that he’s at least still half-hard. You wonder how he looks under those boxer briefs.

On the screen, Squidward and Mr. Krabs are climbing a post with a sea of raging anchovies under them. Joel’s lips slightly turn upward. Ha, eat that, Mr. Old Cartoon Head.

You shift so that you’re on your back, legs resting on Joel’s lap. He gives you a look, but doesn’t say anything. Minutes later, totally absorbed with SpongeBob pestering his neighbor with a reef blower, he has a hand on your ankle, caressing it without much thought.

They would have written about you in a Greek tragedy the way you’re consumed by greed and lust. When your toes stroke Joel’s bulge, totally by accident and not precalculated at all, you pretend like you’re captivated by the TV. It’s hard and you can definitely discern the ridge of possible veins and the head of his cock.

Joel exhales, sounding so done and tired. “I know you were going to do this,”

But he doesn’t push you away. And that excites you.

You don’t say anything or look away from the screen, but you keep rubbing the outline of his cock, which is now more visible and grows slightly larger, with the space between your big and index toe. Your brain automatically puts the ice clinking in a vase while SpongeBob is getting dry under Sandy’s treedome as background noise to amplify Joel’s restrained grunts.

You like this. You like having Joel wrapped around your finger. Soon after, you withdraw your legs and sit up, causing him to open his eyes over the sudden halt.

You stare at him, bold. “Would you like my mouth?”

Joel nods.

You don’t even wait for a second. Joel helps you take off his boxer briefs, the length of his hard-on springs out like jack-in-the-box. You admire how it looks, how the tip is totally sticky and glistening, before lowering your tongue. Joal lets out a sound akin to a whimper as you let your saliva ooze down the underside of his cock and quickly retrieve it into your mouth using your tongue. He tastes slightly salty, like sweat. And if you could smell better you’d see how hypnotizing his scent is, like calling you to stick his cock down your throat until the world collapses.

“That’s it,” Joel says, out of breath. His cock is now grazing the soft wall of your cheek, and he wonders how experienced you actually are because you definitely don’t act like an amateur. You use one elbow to support yourself, the other one taking turns massaging his balls and the base of his cock.

The only downside of this is that Joel can’t really look at your face. He craves the sight of you, how your lips are wrapped around his cock, and how your cheek is bulging like a squirrel full of him. One of his hands crawls up your back under your shirt, rubbing it before it finds a new target: your breasts. He kneads on one, thumb flicking the bud. You can’t help but moan and take him deeper, sending vibrations from your throat to his cock.

Joel knows he won’t last much longer, and he would very much like to keep this thing going as long as possible. So he asks you to stop, averting your disappointment by lifting up your shirt and sucking on one nipple. He’s surprisingly tender with it, taking his time. You reach a hand to his cock again, trying to at least get him off with your hand, but he pulls your wrists back and locks them on your sides.

“Joel,” you whine. “Fuck me. Please.”

“No can do,” Joel answers as his lips are trailing down to your stomach, where he peppers kisses all over. You scoot backwards and like reading your mind, he tugs the hem of your shorts down to your ankle before yanking it away, revealing your throbbing, desperate cunt. He then dives down, nose pressing against your mound as his tongue explores the new treasure island.

Just like in the movie.

You try to grab on something, anything, but the leather couch does nothing but squeaks, and Joel instinctively laces his fingers with yours. The view of the top of your head is exactly how you imagined it would be. The moans released from your lips are rather loud, especially when Joel creates a suction cup with his lips right on your clit.

“Joel, Joel,” you grasp his hands with all your might. “This is fucking unfair, I’m so— I’m gonna—”

Before you get to finish your sentence, your body already decides that it’s time for another release. Your heels are planted firmly against the couch as your hips lift to the air, and Joel lets go. He kneels before your cunt, pumps himself to oblivion and comes all over you before you get to collect yourself, staining your stomach and breasts. Later you’ll realize that the first spurt went a little bit rogue and landed on your hair.

“Fuck you, man,” you complain, sticking out a middle finger at him. “I was supposed to make you come.”

Joel rests his head on the couch armrest, eyes closed. “You did.”

“I meant technically,” you attempt to nudge him with your leg, but he dodges and stands up to grab the washcloth he used to compress you with earlier. He then wipes your stomach and breasts with it, the cold water making you squirm.

“What now?” you ask when he hands you your clothes.

“Sleep. It’s four in the mornin’.” he says as he puts his stained, sticky, wet boxer briefs on and sits on the recliner. So you can’t drive me mad anymore, he says.

You whine, but you realize that your eyelids are actually very heavy. “Blowjob first time in the morning?” you offer before letting yourself drift off.

“Thought you were s’pposed to be sick.” Joel shakes his head. But he grins.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #dbf!joel #dbf!joel x reader #dbf!joel miller x reader #tlou #the last of us #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #dbf!joel miller

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i2sunric · 6 months ago

Text

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐋𝐘 (l.hs)

PAIRING: heeseung x reader (f)

SUMMARY: due to a storm, his parents are stuck in a motel for the night while you are stuck at his house. with wi-fi not working, heeseung can’t think of anything better than recreating the scenes of your smutty books.

WARNINGS: established relationship, unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy!), fingering, standing sex (?), missionary, pussy eating, masturbation, dirty talking, blowjob, oral (m and f receiving), rough sex, chocking, i lied about the doggy style, pet names (angel, baby), lmk if more, NOT PROOFREAD.

PUBLISHED: 13th August 2024

WC: 3.7k

TAGLIST: (permanent) @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @jwnghyuns @bangtancultsposts @shawnyle @jooniesbears-blog @skzenhalove @ro-diaries @onlyhyunjin @xcosmi @strawberrhypen @heeheeswifey (oneshot) @trizdoniki @love4hee @strayy-kidz @baribaaari @shirizula @astratlantis @jaeyungxrl @heestarry @heeseungismymanz @mitmit01 @rayofsunshineeee @heesexual74 @deezbin @jakeswifez @nikiswifiee @hqqj @diorfmu @isa942572 @yjwluvs @norihoyeon @starggukies @shiningnono @sunpov @iamliacamila @strawberrhypen @gnvi-eve @wildflowermooon @kaykay11sworld @erenswifesposts @star-hoon @aubaee @lvnglysunoo @heebear @enhypenlovre BOLDS COULD NOT BE TAGGED.

a/n: honestly the intro sucks and so does the outro but i swear the smut is GOOD. literally 3k words of filthy porn ngl. enjoy lol. please LIKE & REBLOG to spread and let me knows your thoughts 💗

What was supposed to be a cozy Thursday night ended up in you being forced to stay at Heeseung’s house for the night.

Forced? Not really, you enjoyed the excuse of spending more time with your boyfriend. Because of a flooding caused by the storm outside, you weren’t able to go back home.

But neither were his parents, who were supposed to have a nice date and ended up being blocked by the horrible weather.

The sound of the raindrops tapping against the window filled the room as Heeseung turned off the shower.

You were laying on his bed with your back to the wall as you peacefully read your book, thankful that your sixth sense made you bring it.

Heeseung entered the room with only a towel wrapped around his waist while he used another to dry his damp hair.

“Reading still?” He asked, nudging the book with toe. “Ew.” You stated, pushing his foot away “And yes.”

Heeseung just chuckled and moved to get his clothes from the drawer “Heard from your parents?”

He hummed “I called them before showering, they said they’ll stay at a motel,” He put his boxers on “But before they could say more, the line cut off.”

You threw a glance at the window “This storm is going to destroy a lot of things.”

Heeseung struggled to put on shorts and then rounded the bed, the mattress lowering where his weight was.

“I bet they’re having some wild sex right now.” You joked, flipping another page of your book.

Heeseung pinched your side “Ew? I don’t really want to think about my parents going at it.” He laughed, laying down beside you.

“Careful, you might have a brother soon.” You joked again, earning another gentle pinch.

A couple of minutes passed by and Heeseung groaned “Wi-fi doesn’t work.” He threw his phone at the end of the bed. “I can’t play games.”

“Poor you.” You cooed, caressing the hand he had placed on your hip, his chest pressed against your back.

“Can’t you put your book down and give me attention?” You could hear the pout in his voice “No boy, I’m at an important point.”

“Evil.” Heeseung murmured as he settled into a more comfortable position, strangely not going anywhere to do something else.

You felt his hand on your side, relaxed as well as his breath even. ‘He must’ve fallen asleep’, You thought, as you flipped another page of your book, unable to stop your eyes from reading the scene unfolding before you.

If Heeseung was to casually open his eyes and read even one line of the chapter, he would certainly make fun of you.

Who even reads smut in their boyfriend’s bed?

You felt his hand flex on your stomach but you didn't really mind, he would always move uncontrollably when asleep— sometimes, even kicking you.

As your mind proceeded the words written down on paper, your body reacted to it, almost unconsciously.

You could feel your core pulse in need, your body temperature raising and at the same time goosebumps appeared on your skin.

It always happened, you couldn’t help the way your imagination wandered with the characters of the book, the tension and the way they cared for each other. It was all too tempting, you could feel your stomach fill with butterflies.

But your boyfriend was sleeping and you didn’t want to disturb him, knowing he already had troubles falling asleep — the reason why he always stayed up late to play games —, so you kept quiet.

You felt Heeseung shift behind you, the hand on your stomach circling your waist until he was able to pull you against his chest, his breath hot against your ear.

You held your breath as he changed position, not making any sudden movement while he used you like you were a teddy bear.

Gulping down, you waited a few beats before focusing your attention back on the chapter.

It’s not like you and Heeseung had never gone further than third base, but it was always so… vanilla.

You longed for someone to use you for your own pleasure, to talk you through your multiple orgasms, to mark you up and manhandle you like a doll.

But you would never have the courage to confess that to Heeseung.

Yes, you two had been together for almost a year and half though you weren’t ready to open up to your contorted fantasies. Afraid that he may run away, you loved him too much for that.

So, you hid in your imagination, burying your nose in books that filled the void inside of you.

Letting out a quiet sigh, you tried to calm the fire igniting your bones, but your hips shifted uncomfortably, the ache between your legs too strong to be ignored.

Suddenly, Heeseung spoke to your ear, voice low and husky “You want to show me too?” You jolted and closed the book, catching your finger in middle, hissing at the pain.

You turned your face around and caught his gaze, something different inside it. Something primal.

“I-I thought you were sleeping.” You said, blinking faintly and Heeseung smirked, “I was reading with you.”

He reached the book from your hand and like a fool, you let him take it. He opened the page where you had left your finger in and cleared his throat “He looked at her with a strange urge, his attention gliding to her face,” He started reading.

“His voice was low when he said ‘Show me, show me how you touch yourself when you’re alone in the middle of the night’.”

The heat that was once in your stomach moved to your cheeks, embarrassment coating your expression.

“It’s just a chapter, I was skipping it.” You tried to reach back for your book but he held it up, sitting “Ah, lying is bad, Y/N.”

Heeseung’s smirk was cocky “You seemed pretty into it.” You scoffed, “Give it back.”

Your boyfriend was clearly enjoying it, the way you blushed and the flustered look on your face. He licked his bottom lip and eyed you up and down.

Only when you lowered your gaze, unable to meet his, did you notice the hard-on he was sporting. Was he enjoying it the same way you were?

“There’s no wi-fi.” He stated, “And my parents aren’t home, don’t you think we should occupy our time?”

This side of him was something you had never seen, perhaps, had he the same hidden likings as yours? Looked like you were about to find out.

“How?” You asked, your voice hoarse, barely yours. Heeseung glanced back at the page and said “Take off your shorts.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, “W-What?” And he just chuckled darkly “Do you think I didn’t notice your body language, mh? Do you think I didn’t see how you were craving… this?” He raised the book.

“Now, take off your shorts or I’ll have to do it myself.” Normally, you would comply, but you were feeling bold, adrenaline shooting in your veins, so you said instead, “Make me.”

His eyes darkened, his brow raised. He placed the book on the bed and crawled towards you as you backed away until your back hit the headboard.

He kept eye contact while his fingers hooked around your shorts, and instead of his usual slow pace, he yanked them off.

You gasped at the sudden force, soon enough your shorts were laying on the floor “Isn’t this what you want?” He questioned.

“You want someone to dominate you, uh? To show you what’s your place?” Your whole body shivered from his words as you mindlessly nodded.

“All this time I’ve been gentle, afraid to make you uncomfortable,” He gripped your panties “But all you wanted was to be fucked, hard, isn’t it?” He ripped them off you, the sound of fabric stretching making you gasp again.

He smirked and threw the messy fabric on the floor, with your shorts “So, I’ll follow what you like.” He pointed at the book resting on the duvet “Play with yourself.”

You widened your eyes. Heeseung’s behaviour was different from his usual one, though you couldn’t say you didn’t like it. Lord, you were drenched just from his words and he could see it, the way your juices coated your pussy, spread in front of him.

You gulped and slowly moved your hand down, reaching your clit which you started circling.

A soft hum escaped your lips at the sweet feeling and you watched him, his gaze so primal and full of lust as he took in the sight of you touching yourself.

Just a few beats passed before he asked “You know what she does now, right?” And you nodded, lifting your hand up to his lips. He hummed and took them inside his mouth, his warm tongue twirling around your digits.

The taste of you, even if it was just brief, was enough to make his head spin, so delicious and intoxicating.

You removed them “Let me watch while you fuck yourself.” He said and was suddenly aware of your position. Of how open you were in front of him, your folds clenching around nothing.

Heeseung raised an impatient brow and you hurried to coat your fingers in your juices, rubbing them against your entrance before thrusting one inside.

You moaned, your fingers brushing against your g-spot right away, given all the times you’d done this.

Heeseung licked his bottom lip, the taste of you still lingering in his mouth, on his tongue. He could feel his shorts grow tighter by the minute, his desire for you overtaking any rational thought.

“One more baby, I know you can take it.” He urged and you complied, adding a second digit to your ministration.

Heeseung let out a groan, his eyes locked on you as you brought pleasure to yourself. He quickly took the book back in his hands and flicked the page, a wicked smile on his lips.

“Yeah, bet you’ll like this.” He said as he pushed himself down the bed and took you by the back of your thighs, tilting your body until it was pending at the edge of the bed.

You stopped your movements and pulled your fingers out with a ‘POP’ sound, resting on your elbows to look down at him “Hee?”

“Don’t worry, angel.” He pried your legs open, his breath fanning on your cunt, making you squeeze your eyes “Just need to taste your sweet pussy.”

And then you felt it, the swipe of his tongue across your folds, your mind clouding from the pleasure as soft gasps escaped your lips.

Heeseung ate you like a starved man, alternating sucking on your clit and fucking you with his tongue, his strong grip prevented you from squirming around.

You rocked your hips against his mouth, needing to chase the pleasure building inside your lower belly.

You reached a hand and placed it on his head, your fingers tangling in his locks, “Mh, that’s it, angel.” He murmured, “Fuck my tongue.”

And so you followed his orders, moving with deep and slow thrusts, just enough to send jolts of pleasure through your jody as Heeseung stuck his warm tongue inside of you.

Soon, your movements grew sloppier and faster, your lips parted “I’m— I’m gonna—“ And before you could even finish your sentence, your orgasm hit you, making your back arch off the bed, your legs shaking.

“This was so hot, baby.” Heeseung pressed a few more kitten licks on your clit before raising himself, caressing your thighs with his thumbs.

You looked up at him, your breath still uneven from the great amount of pleasure he had put you in.

He gave you a small smirk before reaching behind you and taking your forgotten book back. He flipped the pages “Spoiler, she gives him a BJ.” He said.

You chuckled, your body now recovered as you sat up “And you don’t want it?” You batted your eyelashes.

Heeseung took a steady breath. “Don’t tempt me.” He quickly searched further one the book, scanning lines and as he found something he liked, he pointed at it, a small laugh escaping his lips.

“As much as I love feeling your mouth around me, I want to feel you whole.” He murmured.

You sat up, crawling towards him to the edge of the bed “Maybe I want to.”

His breath caught in his throat, your vicinity and your words going straight to his cock “The way she does.”

Heeseung went back to the chapter where it all started, scanning the lines until he read “After making her see stars, he quickly unbuttoned his jeans, his gaze dangerous. ‘Your moans were so sweet, darling.’ He murmured, lowering his jeans and boxers, his cock sprung free.” He paused to gulp.

“He took the back of her head and moved her ‘till her neck bent in an awkward position, his red tip brushing against her lips.” He lowered the book.

“Is this how you want it? Rough?” Heeseung questioned and you nodded “Might as well follow the script.” You shrugged.

A low groan built in his throat, you tugged the hem of his shirt “This off?” Your eyes glistened with fake innocence.

Heeseung swiftly worked his shirt off, throwing it on the floor. It’s not like you had never seen him without a shirt on, you were used to him during beach dates or pool parties, but it was always so breathtaking.

Heeseung smirked, noticing the way your hungry stare was studying his chest. In the blink of an eye his shorts joined his shirt, his cock hard and angry, some pre-cum smeared over the tip.

“Be a good girl and open up for me,” He murmured as he climbed on the bed, his hand clutching the headboard to keep himself steady.

You quickly laid down, his hips hovering on your face. You looked up at him, doe-eyes looking ever so pure… And then you took him all in your mouth.

Heeseung threw his head back at the feeling of your tongue swirling around his cock, your head bobbing back and forth.

“Fuck,” He breathed out, his eyes meeting yours “So good, always so good.”

He caressed your cheek, his thumb grazing gently your skin as his hips bucked, meeting your pace.

He then pulled out, making you frown which was soon transformed when his lips met yours.

You could feel his cock twitching between your breasts, one of his hands squeezing it as his lips claimed yours.

The kiss was sloppy and messy, both of your tongues moving together, his spit down your throat.

He was delaying his orgasm, you noted, because he would’ve cum just from a few licks of yours.

And then he pulled his lips away from yours to thrust his throbbing length inside your mouth again “Mh… Yes— Shit. You’re so good, angel. Mouth made just for me.” He praised as he moved.

You hummed, sending waves of pleasure all through his body.

You gripped his thighs, bobbing your head faster, desperate to bring him the pleasure he deserved.

Heeseung understood and gripped the headboard with both of his hands, his hips thrusting inside of your warm and wet mouth. He hit the back of your throat, making you gag “I’m so close.” He breathed out.

At his words, you ignored the burning sensation building in your throat and hollowed your cheeks, with a few more thrusts he was emptying himself with a groan.

When he pulled out, you licked any drop of cum that spilled out your mouth and hummed happily.

Heeseung chuckled, leaning down again to capture your lips in a messy but loving kiss.

You playfully bit his bottom lip and he pulled away, yelping “Brat.”

You smiled at him and sat up, your voice just briefly hoarse “What happens next?”

Heeseung’s gaze darkened but his words were serious “You sure you want to continue?” He sighed softly, “Baby, I don’t want to hurt you.”

You smiled reassuringly and beckoned to the book “Time to change chapter.”

Heeseung let out a quiet groan, his cock visibly twitching “He fucks her against the wall.” He narrated what he had read “Hard, hand around her throat… is that what you want?”

Just the idea of doing it that way had you drenched down there, a shiver ran along your spine “Yes, Hee.” You breathed out, and to emphasise you add “I need it.”

“My nasty girl.” He practically growled as he got up from the bed, taking you with him and slammed you against the wall of his bedroom.

You yelped when your back hit the cold surface, the tapping of the raindrops on the window your background music.

Heeseung claimed your lips again as one of his hands snuck to squeeze your backside, his fingers kneading it.

You could again feel his hard cock pressing against your stomach, its warmth infecting your core.

“I’ve always wanted to fuck you,” He whispered on you throat “To have you milk my cock as I take you so hard you can’t say a coherent word.”

You rocked your hips against his, a clear effect of his words, your arms wrapped around his neck.

As if you weighed nothing, he raised you and you wrapped your legs around his sculpted waist.

Without any warning except for the aligning of his cock, he slammed deep inside of you, making you moan out.

Heeseung wasn’t the biggest cock you’ve seen, but he surely was the longest. You could feel him so deep, he could probably even reach your stomach if he tried hard enough.

You gripped the back of his neck like your life depended on it as he moved without any mercy, pulling all the way out until the tip just to slam back in, knocking the air out of your lungs.

He snuck one hand between your breasts and reached your throat, wrapping it around it. He gripped, not enough to choke you but good enough to make you light-headed.

His cock pounded hard into you, driving your brain into nothing but a puddle of his name, the one you screamed and moaned.

Your nails dug into his shoulders and he grunted, rewarding you with a deeper thrust, one you can almost feel in your centre, where the familiar knot was tightening.

Your eyes rolled back, just moans and whimpers escaping your lips.

Heeseung removed the hand from your throat and gripped your neck instead, letting your lungs that were screaming in protest fill with air up to their capacity.

He moved so your forehead pressed against his, both of you panting in each other’s mouth, your pussy clenching around him.

He groaned, he put one of his hands on the wall to steady himself as his hips kept bucking fast on yours, the sound of skin slapping mixing up with the rain’s.

“Is this what you like, baby?” Heeseung asked, moving his face to gently nip on your neck.

Your whole body felt sensitive from the attention he was giving it, from his small hickeys to the way he kept hitting your sweet spot “Y-yes.” You croaked out “Feels s’good, fuck.”

Heeseung grinned and stilled, twitching inside of you with a groan.

Before you could even comprehend it, he had you with your back on the mattress, never pulling out of you.

Your legs spread open, eager to feel him in you, to let him claim him.

“Fuck,” He grunted out, his pace never once faltering as he gripped your thighs to help himself, surely there would be marks the next day “Feels like heaven inside of you.”

You answered with a muffled whimper, not sure if your brain could even form out a word anymore.

He leaned on you, chest pressed against chest as he hid his face in the crook of his neck, his hot breath hitting your skin.

You rolled your eyes back, the pleasure building inside of you almost unbearable “Hee..” You breathed out, gripping his forearm to warn him where words couldn’t reach.

“I know,” He murmured, “Me too, baby…”

You cried out as you tried to delay your orgasm the same way he could do, but the pleasure was too much and before you could even try to resist more, you saw white.

Your back arched off the bed and squirmed around, your walls clenching tight around Heeseung who, despite your state, never stopped thrusting.

“Shit— Where do you want it?” He asked, because it was in some ways a first timer. First time going rough, first time going raw.

You couldn’t find your voice, your eyes watery from the impact of your orgasm, so you wrapped your legs around his waist, trapping him.

He frowned “Are you— Fuck.” You felt his cum filling you up to the brim, the sensation so sweet a gasp left your lips as he rocked slowly, adrenaline lowering.

After a couple of minutes where neither of you had the energy to move, Heeseung raised himself and offered you a warm smile “How was it?” He questioned as he stood up.

The sight of you, sprawled on his bed with both your seeds running down your thighs was enough to make him pop another boner, which earned him a side eye from you.

“Don’t worry, baby.” Heeseung chuckled, opening one of the drawers to retrieve one of his shirts and helping you in it. He then carefully cleaned you up, dried the sweat running down your forehead and after putting back on his shorts and underwear, he laid beside you.

One of his arms snuck around your shoulder, he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead “You’ll have to go commando, since I ripped your panties.” You giggled, hugging him tighter.

“I really enjoyed… this.” Heeseung smirked, “I bet.” He glanced at the book, now resting on the bedside table “Come to me when you start another book, yeah?”

Heeseung absentmindedly squeezed your breast through the shirt “I’ll make sure to recreate it all… even may steal some of the lines.”

Content that he wasn’t going to judge you for your strange likings, rather supporting them, you let yourself be held as the storm outside slowly died, the breeze hitting your skin as you fell asleep, safe in his arms.

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caparrucia · 2 years ago

Text

Full offense and pun fully intended, but I genuinely think the very existence of "dead dove, do not eat" was a fucking canary in the mines, and no one really paid attention.

Because the tag itself was created as a response to a fandom-wide tendency to disregard warnings and assume tagging was exaggerated. And then the same fucking idiots reading those tags describing things they found upsetting or disturbing or just not to their taste would STILL click into the stories and give the writer's grief about it.

And as a response writers began using the tag to signal "no, really, I MEAN the tags!"

But like.

If you really think about it, that's a solution to a different problem. The solution to "I know you tagged your story appropriately but I chose to disregard the tags and warnings by reading it anyway, even though I knew it would upset me, so now I'm upset and making it your problem" is frankly a block, a ban and wide-spread blacklisting. But fandom as a whole is fucking awful at handling bad faith, insidious arguments that appeal to community inclusion and weaponize the fact most people participating in fandom want to share the space with others, as opposed to hurting people.

So instead of upfront ridiculing this kind of maladaptive attempt to foster one's own emotional self-regulation onto random strangers on the internet, fandom compromised and came up with a redundant tag in a good faith attempt to address an imaginary nuance.

There is no nuance to this.

A writer's job is to tag their work correctly. It's not to tag it exhaustively. It's not even to tag it extensively. A writer's sole obligation, as far as AO3 and arguably fandom spaces are concerned, is to make damn sure that the tags they put on their story actually match whatever is going on in that story.

That's it.

That's all.

"But what if I don't want to read X?" Well, you don't read fic that's tagged X.

"But what if I read something that wasn't tagged X?" Well, that's very unfortunate for you, but if it is genuinely that upsetting, you have a responsibility to yourself to only browse things explicitly tagged to not include X.

"But that's not a lot of fic!" Hi, you must be new here, yes, welcome to fandom. Most of our spaces are built explicitly as a reaction to There's Not Enough Of The Thing I Want, both in canon and fandom.

"But there are things on the internet that I don't like!" Yeah, and they are also out there, offline. And, here's the thing, things existing even though we personally dislike or even hate or even flat out find offensive/gross/immoral/unspeakable existing is the price we pay to secure our right to exist as individuals and creators, regardless of who finds US personally unpleasant, hateful or flat out offensive/gross/immoral/unspeakable.

"But what about [illegal thing]?!" So the thing itself is illegal, because the thing itself has been deemed harmful. But your goddamn cop-poisoned authoritarian little heart needs to learn that sometimes things are illegal that aren't harmful, and defaulting to "but illegal!" is a surefire way to end up on the wrong side of the fascism pop quiz. You're not a figure of authority and the more you demand to control and exercise authority by command, rather than leadership, the less impressive you seem. You know how you make actual, genuine change in a community? You center harm and argue in good faith to find accommodations and spread awareness of real, actual problems.

But let's play your game. Let's pretend we're all brainwashed cop-abiding little cogs that do not own a single working brain cell to exercise critical thinking with. 99% of the time, when you cry about any given thing "being illegal!!!" you're correct only so far as the THING itself being illegal. The act or object is illegal. Depiction of it is not. You know why, dipshit? Because if depiction of the thing were illegal, you wouldn't be able to talk about it. You wouldn't be able to educate about it. You wouldn't be able to reexamine and discuss and understand the thing, how and why and where it happens and how to prevent it. And yeah, depiction being legal opens the door for people to make depictions that are in bad taste or probably not appropriate. Sure. But that's the price we pay, creating tools to demystify some of the most horrific things in the world and support the people who've survived them. The net good of those tools existing outweighs the harm of people misusing them.

"You're defending the indefensible!" No, you're clumsily stumbling into a conversation that's been going on for centuries, with your elementary school understanding of morality and your bone-deep police state rot filtering your perception of reality, and insisting you figured it out and everyone else at the table is an idiot for not agreeing with you. Shut the fuck up, sit the fuck down and read a goddamn book.

#shut up rie

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ittybittyfanblog · 2 months ago

Text

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition) – Pt. 4

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus and a (vindicated!) player. That’s it, that’s the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, self-aware!au, strong language, player wants to sock a certain 3D character in the face A/N: Here’s part 4! Also, a taglist at the end of this post! Just lmk whether you'd like to be added/removed, no sweat ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧ Happy reading!

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt. 6 - Pt. 7 - Pt. 8 - Pt. 9 - Pt. 10

You swiftly pull up Reddit. And then Twitter (X) on another window. You’ve got to find answers.

Typing in “sENTIENT SENTINCE SENTIENCE LADS ML HELP” in the r/LoveAndDeepspace subreddit search bar, along with keywords that have anything to do with “breaking the fourth wall” and “recent major updates” on X, you quickly scour for anything that comes even close to your current situation.

Immediately, you see a bunch of mix-match results, some even dating as far as the first month of the game’s release. Your eyes skim through blocks of texts, hoping there’s a comment–or a tweet–somewhere that could shed some light to this conundrum.

Already, you see some discussion on sudden fourth wall breaks. But you’ve seen posts like this before, and they’re most likely pertaining to the way their LI’s gaze falls directly on the player’s line of sight when they’re in Dynamic Pose mode in Glint Photobooth.

The common suspects for this are usually Xavier and your resident headache (Sylus). It's one of the “known” bugs of the game, even so far as being choreographed, almost, from the way players intentionally pose the MLs at certain angles to attain the likeness of sentience.

You remember the first time it happened to you, way back when the Photobooth feature was just recently introduced. You were taking photos of Xavier–letting him pose freely in dynamic mode so that you could capture a more organic look, when his eyes “met” yours directly.

Of course like any other (delusional) player, you entertained the novel idea of actually being noticed by the videogame character you’ve formed an unhealthy attachment to. Got excited, squealed over it, felt an instant doki-doki on your kokoro—the whole shebang.

… Along with probably hundreds of other players who’ve experienced the same thing.

So, yes, these instances occur more frequently than one would think. Not really what you’d call particularly noteworthy.

Then you see the threads from players who swear that their LIs really understand how they feel during their tête-à-tête sessions. It sounds promising, and you spend a few minutes reading through their "testimonies."

—Until you surmise from what you’ve gathered that all of them only appear like they do. How Rafayel, Zayne (and yes, even Sylus) seem to know what they need to hear, from how accurate their generated responses are.

Keyword: generated. So, no. They still aren’t anything more than glorified soundboards with really good timing, however attractive it may be to think otherwise.

Ooh, that one sounds a little too bitchy, even for you.

It’s got nothing to do with the players, nor has it anything to do with how the game works, really – bugs and all. Fuck, you were one of those people who milked the fantasy over the same coincidences once upon a time. You were. Before the coincidences started to be anything but.

Before you had to worry whether you still have your mental faculties in order.

With every–misleading–post you stumble upon, you feel yourself becoming more restless. There’s a fervent glaze in your eyes and your typing’s getting diabolically worse. (you could barely read that last search input–bitch, how are you fit to work?) You’re sure that if you looked in a mirror right now, you’d look as deranged as you feel.

Xavier “bug” that looks so real omg?? Skip.

Sylus – New Voiceline? You check it out. Yeah, It’s just one of his newer–programmed–voicelines.

Conversations with Rafayel got ~too real~ all of a sudden. You wish that yours had stayed the way they’ve always been, but alas.

Stop feeding into my delusions [Zayne] challenge: Failed. Oh? You’re almost done reading the first paragraph of the Redditor’s post, when you catch sight of the latest update below:

Resolved. Uninstalled the game. Multi-banners are getting too expensive (See my other post). Okay, you respect that. Hear that, Infold—

You’re slowly losing hope. Clearly, your case is kind of… mayhaps a tiny bit… different. From the rest. Dare say, exceptionally so.

To what end, you don’t know. You’re left with more questions than answers, and the primary enigma isn’t giving you much to work with.

Without anything else left to do, you resort to mindless scrolling. You’re swiping up, scrolling endlessly through the Top Posts of All Time, and it feels like you’re about to reach the end of this damn subreddit… When an unassuming post from a deleted user catches your attention.

It only got a few upvotes, and barely enough comments to gain traction. Unless one’s desperate enough to have been looking as hard as you are, it just looks like one of the many random dead posts from months ago. Nothing special.

Even the title is unassuming: I think the game’s broken??

You start to read.

Hi, so uhhh I’m 2 months in the game and everything’s been going well and all… Until a few days ago. IDK if this is a bug ?? but my Rafayel’s been acting so weird lately….. Ik I’m gonna sound delusional, but it’s like he’s actually aware of me ME. Not my MC.

He’s got a bunch of new dialogues, and they’re all so accurately specific it’s creeping me tf out LMAO. IDK how the devs got THIS much info on me (like is this even legal) but they do. Or at least, Rafayel does? That sounds rly stupid out loud but yeah lol. Oh and he doesn’t even let me switch between MLs anymore. The game just… crashes? whenever I try to.

Always been a Rafayel main (he’s the reason why I installed the game in the first place) so I was REALLY ecstatic over what I thought were new updates from the game… buuut when I tried looking it up, I can’t find any related news from the official LADS channel(s) about recent patches or updates with this feature, and no one seems to know what I’m talking about???

I feel like I’m going crazy… Literally as I’m typing this, Rafayel’s spamming me with notifications. He’s so fucking clingy… I love it??

Plsplspls if anyone’s experiencing the same thing, comment or DM meee. I need someone to talk to, aside from the fishie lmao no matter how much he insists that he’s enough omg (?!?!!)

Holy shit—you can’t believe it. This… this is exactly what you’re looking for.

The six comments under the post ranged from calling it complete bull to outright mocking the OP, and you understand why the post didn’t get any more popular.

For a brief moment, you feel a certain kinship with the original poster. A tinge of… shame (?) washes over you as you scan through all the negative reception; it’s as if the harsh insults were hurled directly at you instead.

How fun. There goes your fleeting idea to post the same question on the forum, if all else fails.

Speaking of. Your eyes quickly dart to the small text just above the title to check their username—but to your utter dismay, you see (and remember) that it’s from a deleted account.

The user no longer exists.

God, that can’t be it.

You spend a solid twenty minutes trying to look up ways to retrieve information–contacts, socials, anything–from deleted accounts. No dice.

Deep in your gut, you know that whatever else you could possibly find on both apps wouldn’t compare to what you’ve already come across.

You’ve officially hit a dead end.

With heavy limbs and a downtrodden spirit, you haul yourself up from the floor—just to turn around and collapse face first on the sofa. A deep, drawn-out groan escapes you as you shut your eyes for a moment, trying to calm yourself down from all the stuff that’s been boggling your brain.

It doesn’t seem like you’ll be finding a solid answer to your question (questions–in plural) any time soon. So what else can you do?

Well, aside from putting away your groceries–the currently-thawing fish and the condensing bags of pre-cut veggies aren’t going to store themselves inside a freezer anytime soon. A loudly meowing ball of fur has also been relentlessly clawing at your leg at the foot of the sofa for the past five minutes, demanding to be fed and petted.

Whoops. You hastily push yourself back on your feet to address these pressing tasks pronto.

…

…..

(Now that’s out of the way—)

You swipe your phone open–yet again–as you flop back onto the couch. And, maybe, you’re a glutton for punishment. Maybe you’re just a little too over the excitement of the unknown factors in play. Or maybe, you just want another shot—to try one last time–

What you know, though, is that whenever you’re feeling overwhelmed about stuff at work, or you need something to distract yourself with, you open the silly otome game on your phone to make yourself feel better.

So—that’s exactly what you do. Even if that silly otome game’s now the reason why you’re feeling so goddamned stressed at the moment.

Go figure.

The game boots up. You sullenly glare at the loading bar as it progresses from 35%....

68%....

95%.........

Once again, Sylus_v1.0 (!) greets you from the center of the home screen, looking exactly the same as he did last when you opened the app, which was–damn, has it really been over three hours already?

“At this hour, the day is just getting started,” he remarks nonchalantly, folding his arms across his chest as his eyes drift to whatever’s on his left.

You give him a dead-eyed stare; slightly wary, but overall unimpressed by the act. “God, I hope the fuck not.”

There’s no new content since your last proper login, as far as you can tell. At first glance, you see some of the regular, daily badge notifications, but nothing really stands out to you. There’s no unexpected red dot on the mail icon this time, nor is there any on the Hunter Info tab.

So far, so good.

With slight hesitation, you begin to speak, even if you aren’t sure whether your intended recipient can actually hear you or not.

“Um, so. I’m really kinda freaking out right now and–” You cut yourself off, swallowing down the frustration building in your throat. There’s an edge to your voice as you speak your next words, “it’s because you’re–you’ve been giving me mixed signals. I–I don’t know what to think anymore-!”

He remains unmoving, showing no signs of having registered what you just said. You sigh.

“Ugh, it sounds like I’m talking to an actual boyfriend or something. This is driving me nuts.”

Still no response.

“Can’t you give me a sign?” You whine defeatedly, trying to catch the eye of the pixelated man on your phone who’s resolutely looking at the right side of the screen. Is he purposely avoiding eye contact or what? “Like… I don’t know–blink twice if you understand what I’m saying right now.”

He blinks. Once. Fucking—

Does he think this is some kind of joke?

“I’m gonna poke your dick off,” You threaten him menacingly, your pointer finger at the ready to commit assault. “I swear, I’m gonna do it—”

Wait. Was that a twitch on his lips?

Pausing, you narrow your eyes at him, critical in your scrutiny for any sign that might reveal the truth to this stupid charade he’s putting on. Because it’s a charade. It has to be.

All of a sudden, embarrassment colors your cheeks as it dawns on you what you just said to him. What you’re poised to do. Fuck, you just wanted to get a rise out of him. Test the waters or some shit. Then again, if he’s actually aware– if he CAN actually hear you—

Quickly, you retract your finger away from where it hovers precariously centimeters above his crotch area. “Right. Sorry.”

Scrunching your nose, you press the Agenda icon on the corner, resignation sitting heavy in your chest. Since it doesn’t look like you’re getting any answers tonight, you might as well just do your daily tasks while you’re in-game, right?

So you go through the motions of ticking off each task on the list half-heartedly, collecting the subsequent rewards one by one; just enough to reach the hundred star mark.

It’s petty, no doubt irrational, but you steer clear from anything that would require you to interact with him. You start off with what’s easiest to complete: gifting Stamina, spending Stamina, spending more Stamina, and buying items from the Shop.

Speaking of items… You try your best to act indifferent as you catch sight of the staggering number of red dias that has recently come to your possession, there on the upper right corner of the screen. Before you could even recall the other materials so kindly gifted to you the other night, you immediately exit the Store window to go about your business after you’ve finished collecting today’s free loot.

You breeze through the Bounty Hunts and Core Hunt stages with excessive use of the Auto Pursuit option, rinsing and repeating until you’re almost out of energy. You don’t want to risk playing an actual battle, since your strongest Memory Cards are from the man you’re currently giving the cold shoulder to.

Also, you have no idea what to expect once you enter combat mode–and right now, you can’t be damned to know.

Before you know it, you’re done with the daily Agenda. Close enough, at least. You didn’t even have to interact with the white-haired male LYLA wannabe to get the hundred golden stars. Go, you.

Without anything left to do, you’re back to staring at the–now seated–man on the homescreen who’s still intent on avoiding you. There’s Mephisto perched on his finger, appearing in a plume of black feathers, projecting a holographic screen for the Onychinus leader to scroll through whatever evil juju he’s been up to lately—the very picture of calm detachment.

Almost a minute passes by.

You can’t help it. Poke. Pokepokepokepoke—

“Once you’re trapped in life’s banality, the only thing left is “staying alive.”"

“Oh, for the love of—is that a hint or not?!”

You really wish you could’ve talked to the person on Reddit about this. Ask them whether their version of Rafayel had also been this difficult, this uncooperative. It can’t be that different from what you’re dealing with, could it?

Just a chance to talk… You brood wistfully. To know what’s happening to them right now. Ask them for advice on how to provoke some type of reactio—

Suddenly, something clicks in your brain, and you almost bite your tongue to prevent the spark of anticipation from showing on your face.

"Alright, you win," you concede with an exaggerated sigh, raising your arms over your head to appear as if you’re simply stretching away the stiffness in your muscles. You try to inject as much reluctance in your tone. “You’re really not going to budge, huh?”

Again, you’re met with radio silence—not that you’re expecting a response at this point.

(Well, not yet.)

“That’s fine…” You trail off deliberately, drawing lazy lines across the screen with your pointer finger, until it stops right before the small message icon on the left.

With feigned innocence, you muse, “Hey, I wonder how Xavier's been doing lately.”

…

A beat. You almost believe nothing would come out of your last, and obvious, attempt at goading him but then—

Sylus throws his head back with a sigh, casting an almost exasperated glance at the ceiling. He flicks his wrist dismissively, and Mephisto vanishes in a puff of dark smoke. There’s an unsettling fluidity in the way his gaze shifts toward you; disconcertingly lifelike, when his eyes finally–finally–lock onto yours. An intensity behind those red eyes that makes the look feel unnervingly deliberate.

Your breath catches in your throat. There it is. The reaction you’re looking for.

A weary amusement frames the way he tilts his head sideways–with the way the corners of his mouth curve into a mocking smile, eyes never leaving yours.

He raises an eyebrow up as if to say, now what?

“I knew it,” you whisper shakily, eyes widening into saucers. “I fucking knew it.”

“Mm, took you long enough.”

Before you could even react to that, Sylus flashes you a two-finger salute and winks.

The game crashes.

“Oh, no, you don’t—" you growl, not wasting any second tapping the game icon again. It doesn’t even give you a chance to reach the main menu before it glitches, and you’re back staring at the widgets on your phone’s home screen. “Motherfucker.”

You keep trying.

And with every attempt, Sylus, freak of nature that he is, responds with another system crash. On the eight try, you succeed on entering the game and you feel a sense of relief seeing the loading bar—before, lo and behold, it crashes once more.

Your left eye twitches. Inhaling deeply, you hold your breath for a solid fifteen seconds before sharply exhaling through your nose.

You jab a finger on the icon of his dumb face again. You ought to change that shit as soon as this game of chicken lets up.

“You’re gonna let me open this app, Sy-Sy,” You sang with faux cheer. “Or, swear to god, I’m uninstalling this thing before you could even—”

… It loads successfully before you could even finish your sentence.

“Alright, alright.”

There he is; closer to the screen now, wearing a faint smile, as though trying to stifle a full-on grin from breaking across his face. He looks thoroughly entertained by the entire situation, like it’s the most fun he’s had in ages. “Hi, sweetheart.”

“You–you—” Sputtering, you glare at him, betrayal in your eyes. “You’re a fucking ass!”

“And you’re an absolute delight to play with, kitten,” Sylus coos at you, his smirk widening. But when he catches the trembling jut on your bottom lip, the amused glint in his eyes softens into something that almost seems sympathetic, and dare you say–apologetic?

“For what it’s worth, I’ve just been waiting for the right moment to tell you. I couldn’t resist teasing you a little—but looking at you now, I see I might’ve taken it too far,” he murmurs, bowing his head slightly in a show of contrition. “I’m sorry, little dove.”

You press your lips together, your gaze darting away from the screen. “I thought I was going crazy.” As opposed to now? “B-but, um–it’s all good, I guess.”

A flush creeps up your neck when you hear him chuckle.

Fuck, this is really happening, the hysterical thought rushes to your mind, unbidden. Chat, what’s the plan?

Tagging: @xxfaithlynxx @beewilko @browneyedgirl22 <3

#love and deepspace #lads #lnds #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #lnds sylus #sylus x reader #sylus x you #lads x you #lads x reader #love and deepspace fic #self aware au #sylus qin

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mythicalartisttm · 2 years ago

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also im gonna try and do what i did for the funny squid game but do k//////ingdom h instead

#as in: block the tag until i can be normal about it #detox if you would #knowing this game series though who knows if that'll ever b the case #wanna try though #ran myself into the ground twice bc i hyperfixated on 2 different pieces of media and i do not want that to happen again #literally one (1) person knows how not normal abt this series and they aint on here so this is more for me really #i mean #now you guys know but that's besides the point hvbfhishf #anyways i've learned it's kinda hard to focus on God if im hyperfixating on something else so yeah! break time!#have urgent work i need to do anyways and this has been a major distraction so this'll be good all around #tm speaks

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megwritesriddles · 3 months ago

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No Ghosts ༊*·˚

18+ MDNI !!!

Pairing: Sebastian (Stardew Valley) x Fem! Reader / You

Summary: Kinktober 2024 Day 19 - Public sex. On the way back to the farm from the Spirit's Eve celebrations, Readers night takes a sudden but pleasurable turn.

Tags: Public sex, Unprotected sex, Against a tree, Dirty talk, Dom!Sebastian, Praise kink, Mild possessive behaviour, Established relationship, Hint of fluff, Very brief sense of fear.

Word count: 2.3k

all fandom masterlist | sdv masterlist | read it on ao3

Authors note: Happy Hallowen!! This is mildly Halloween themed, Sebastian dresses as Ghostface but doesn't keep the mask on (sorry to my mask kink folks)!! Hope you like it anyway mwah ( ◕◡◕)っ ♡

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

You left the town square in a very good mood. You skipped down the path toward your farm, wishing the night could have lasted a little longer. The Spirit’s Eve festival had been fun, spending time with your friends was always enjoyable, but coupled with funny costumes and general merriment, you felt lighter than you had in a while. You’d had a little to drink, played games and eaten plenty of candy. Even Sebastian had cracked a smile every once in a while, although you supposed he liked the dark spooky atmosphere of the holiday and the skeletons. He found the skeletons quite fascinating, and you had stood there together watching them for quite a while, you sipping a pumpkin-spiced drink, his hand on your hip, holding you to his side. He’d dressed up as Ghostface, just wearing all black and carrying around a mask he occasionally put on to piss off some of the older townsfolk. They felt his costume was too scary for the children, but he’d just scoffed them off. Vincent had actually seemed to quite like it, but presumably because he didn’t have any context for the character. He’d found it funny and even asked to try on the mask, but Jodi had intervened.

As the lights of the town dimmed away behind you, you began to feel a little more uneasy. You didn’t usually stay out this late, other than in the mines, but that felt safer somehow, despite the literal monsters. You supposed city life had instilled a fear in you of walking alone in the dark that couldn’t quite be shaken, even in the safety of Pelican Town. You try to comfort yourself. Who exactly was going to jump out at you? The biggest creep in town was Clint, but he seemed preoccupied enough with Emily that he was likely to leave you alone and even if he wasn’t… would he really do something bad? You weren’t sure. You kept walking, getting gradually a little more jumpy. It seemed much darker than a normal night, a thick covering of clouds blocking out the light from the moon. It had been unnoticeable in the town square, with all the Jack-O-Lanterns and torches, but now that they were all gone, the true darkness was evident and rather frightening. You wonder a little pissily why Sebastian hadn’t offered to walk you home, he usually did when it was dark out, but he’d sort of disappeared not long after you’d announced you were headed home. You sigh to yourself, wondering if you should start a fight with him about it the next time you see him. You did usually insist he didn’t have to walk you home, maybe he’d finally listened, although it seemed an odd time to start, the scariest night of the year. You listen for the sounds of squirrels skittering past occasionally, making sure there are no louder noises in the eerie silence.

“Boo!” a loud voice shocks your blood cold, making you stumble backwards. Your head spins with fear for a moment as a dark figure jumps onto the path for a moment. Then you spot the Ghostface mask and scowl deeply.

“Sebastian!” you hiss. “Not fucking funny!” you place a hand on your chest, trying to calm your breathing. He laughs loudly, pulling the mask off and coming towards you, a shit-eating grin on his face as he drops it on the ground somewhere. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close, still chuckling lowly.

“You big scaredy cat,” he teases, leaning in to kiss your neck softly, feeling your still slightly pounding pulse beneath his lips.

“Fuck off! I’m a lone woman walking around at night, of course I was scared,” you huff. He pulls back to look at you, biting his lip.

“I didn’t think of that,” he admits, rubbing your sides softly. “I’m sorry, baby,” he hums, leaning back in to kiss your neck. “I’ll scare you in the daytime next time, yeah baby?”

“I hate you,” you grumble, feeling him grin into your neck in response. You can’t help but smile a little yourself.

“No, you don’t baby,” he nips at the skin of your collarbone, careful not to leave a mark no matter how desperately he wants to. His hands rub up and down your sides slowly, mapping out the shape of you. He kisses up your neck to your jaw and finally to your lips, pulling you right up against him as your lips connect. You kiss back, tangling your hand into his black locks, pressing closer to him too. His hand settles on your lower back, using his other hand to grip the flesh of your ass, pulling you against him. He’s half-hard already, softly guiding you to rub against him.

“Mmm, we should get back to mine,” you whisper, trying to detangle from his arms, but he holds you tight to him, growling softly.

“I don’t want to wait,” he rumbles, moving in to kiss you again. He starts back you towards a wide sturdy tree.

“What? My place is literally– mmph– like two minutes away?” you mumble between sensual kisses, as he presses your back to the tree, only just out of view of the footpath.

“Don’t care, need your pussy right now,” he whispers, reaching down to flick open the button of his jeans. Your mouth falls open into an ‘o’ shape, surprised by his demeanour. Even in the very dim light, you can see the deep lust in his eyes as he wrestles his jeans down. You suppose this path isn’t used by anyone but you very often… He interrupts your train of thought. “Come on, be a good girl and get those tights off for me,” he palms himself through his boxers, leaning in to kiss your neck again. You’re a little surprised by his neediness and stand motionless for a moment. His free hand reaches around and pats your ass. “Now, baby, the panties too,”

You spring into action, leaning down to pull down your patterned costume tights, fighting slightly against the constricting fabric, trying not to rip it. His hand settles into your hair, stroking softly while you fiddle around, his other hand still gently caressing his ever-hardening cock. Your tights and underwear finally fall around your ankles and you look up at him. He uses his hand in your hair to pull you in, kissing you again, passionate and open-mouthed, his tongue swirling around yours. Then, taking hold of your waist, he whirls you around and presses your front against the tree. You gasp, bracing your hand in front of your head so you’re not leaning your cheek onto the bark. Sebastian spots this and rustles around for a second, taking off his hoodie, leaving him in a worn band-tee underneath. He haphazardly folds up the plush garment and pulls you into him, positioning the hoodie so you can use it as a pillow against the tree. You lean back forward, your cheek now against it, relieved by the plush material and feeling a rush of arousal at his scent so powerful by your nose, cigarettes, cologne and a hint of a natural musk that is so distinctly his you could pick it out of a line-up. You nuzzle into the material, smelling it deeply as his hands flip up your skirt and knead the flesh of your ass.

“That better baby?” he grunts, gripping your cheeks and spreading you open for his viewing pleasure. You nod. “Mmm, this perfect pussy, just begging to be filled with my cock,” he growls. “Tell me you need my cock,”

“Need your cock,” you mumble softly, shivering at the cool air against your overheated core. He grips your ass a little tighter, groaning pleasurably.

“That’s my girl, so needy for me that you’ll let me fuck you on a public path, huh?” he taunts, sliding his cock slowly between your folds. “Do you like it? The idea that anyone could walk past and see us like this, know what a needy thing you are for me, how completely I have you undone?” He starts to slowly sink into your warmth, hissing. “Yeah? Do you want everyone to see how perfectly you take my cock? To see how needy I am for you? You want that don’t you baby?” he grunts, finally bottoming out, leaving you both panting. You shut your eyes, hiding your flushed face in the material of his hoodie. He grips your waist with one hand, his fingers digging into your soft flesh. His other hand comes up, pulling the neckline of your shirt down over your shoulder so he can suck a mark into your skin, somewhere you can keep it hidden during these colder fall months. His teeth pull gently at your skin as he starts to rock against you. You stutter out a moan, bracing your hands against the tree trunk. His hand moves to grope at your clothed breast as he slowly thrusts in and out of you. “You feel so perfect, you always feel so perfect– nnghh– fuck baby,” he groans, rocking into you a little faster. Your lips part and you let out soft moans with each of his thrusts, but he can tell you’re holding back on him. He slams forward suddenly, sheathing his whole length inside of you. You can’t help but let out a loud moan, quickly biting your lip in an attempt to stop it. “No, don’t you dare bite your lip,” he hisses, repeating the punishing thrust.

“Seb…” you whine loudly, your lip falling from between your teeth. Your body jerks forward with his movement and you vaguely feel the scratch of the bark through the material of your clothes, it oddly heightens the experience. In a vain attempt to muffle yourself, you press your face into the hoodie, breathing hard through your nose, but it doesn’t work. Sebastian won’t let you off that easily, keeping up his wild pace, coaxing louder and louder sounds from you.

“Let the whole town hear who you belong to, you’re not ashamed of me, are you?” he taunts, biting down on your shoulder, making you whimper.

“Th-that’s not– ahh!- fair,” you struggle to get the words out, moans springing forward involuntarily from your chest as he fucks into you. He wraps an arm firmly around your middle, using the leverage to ram even deeper into you. You wail out in pleasure, scratching slightly at the trunk of the tree.

“Taking me so fucking well, baby,” he grunts. “Perfect, perfect, perfect,” his pace becomes faster and a little more erratic. You know what’s coming and the thought makes you moan out once more. His hand slams into the tree trunk above you for balance, fucking into you with reckless abandon. “My dirty girl, always willing to do anything just to get my cock buried in you,” his voice shakes with the intensity of the pleasure coursing through him. You cry out repeatedly, both in response to the snaps of his hips against yours as well as the words spilling from his mouth. His arm around your middle tightens as he feels your legs start to weaken and give out. “Gonna come, pretty girl?” he growls.

“Yes,” you sob desperately, not even able to keep yourself quiet anymore, despite having your face pressed into his hoodie. You can only pray your voice isn’t carrying into town, hopefully Harvey shut his windows tonight.

“Say my name, let everyone know who is making you come!” he demands harshly, his thrusts never once relenting.

“Seb!” you wail, feeling him nip your shoulder chastisingly. You moan loudly, knowing what he wants. “S-Sebastian!” you cry, struggling through the syllables, but it leaves him satisfied nonetheless.

“Good girl, come for me,” he orders. Like a damn breaking, you scream once more, your walls constricting around him. He growls loudly in your ear. “Yeah that’s it, come on my cock,” you pulse around him, driving him to bury himself into you to the hilt and empty himself into you with a furious roar. He holds you tightly to him, panting as he comes down, his lips ghosting across your neck. Now that the arousal and physical activity has ceased, you both start to feel cold, the nippy midnight air infiltrating your little bubble of pleasure. He withdraws from you slowly, making you both shiver a little. “Mmm, that was fun, wasn’t it baby?” he chuckles, sounding a little winded. You just nod, carefully straightening up from against the tree, his arm still around your middle. You move his hoodie, brushing off some of the debris from the other side and your palms. He sighs happily from behind you. “The whole world knows who you belong to now,” he teases, nipping your earlobe. He pulls back so that the both of you can readjust your clothing. You carelessly pull up your tights, not bothering to adjust them properly, watching as he tucks himself away and pulls up his jeans. “Am I coming to yours?” he enquires, taking his hoodie from you as if he’s about to put it on but then wrapping it around your shoulders, tying the sleeves in the front to secure it.

“Sure if you like, I’ve got some more pumpkin soup from the carving that I probably won’t finish on my own,” you sigh, leaning into his arms as he embraces you, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Pumpkin soup and a beautiful girl to hold by the fire…” he muses, littering a few kisses down your cheek. “I think I would be insane to say no to that,”

“Let’s go then,” you start to move sluggishly, he pulls you back for a moment.

“Can’t forget my mask so I can scare you in the morning,” he grins. You scoff and roll your eyes, swatting his chest, making him chuckle. He lets go of you for a moment to grab the long-since discarded Ghostface mask off the path, shaking some dust off of it.

“I hate you,” you grumble as he returns to your side, slipping his arm around your waist, his hand resting on your hip.

“No, you don’t”

“No,” you admit with a fond smile, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “I don’t,”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

hey you! want to get tagged in my work when it comes out? click here! (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

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mauvecherie-writes · 1 year ago

Text

so ready: l.hamilton.

pairing: lewis hamilton x pt fem!black reader

summary: you’re his trainer, he’s him, the chemistry is undeniable.

warning: 18+ mdni, EXTREME SEXUAL CONTENT, pwp, fast paced, teasing, dirty talk, degradation kink?, unprotected sex, guys, I’m a slut - we sucking and fucking over here.

notes: I put a break on working on endless melodies, this picture called for my attention and here we are 😩. I also don’t know where the 3.5K words came from 😭 this was meant to be short.

w.c: 3.5K

tags: @queenshikongo3 @dhlfastestlap @hersinsarescarlet @emjayewrites @saintslewis @serpenttines-library @hopefulromantic1 @cocobutterqwueen @bluesole16 @chaneajoyyy @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @felicity-x0 @lewisroscoelove @lh44adore @hellomadamebutterfly @scorpiobleue @qveenmelanink @tremendousstarlighttragedy

buy me a kofi.

You sighed as you walked through the underground garage of the building. You were mentally preparing yourself to be in your client’s presence. You wish you could have rejected his contract but it was such good money to resist - a resource that you needed at the time - and he was a good man. Refusing to train him would have not made sense outside of the biggest con being that you were attracted to him.

Deeply attracted to him.

Every session was a fighting battle and today would be no different.

It had been seven months since you started working with him. Lewis was very serious about his physical health but he was so flirtatious and it made it hard to concentrate on your job. But today, you promised yourself that you would be serious and not give into his little games.

On the elevator ride up to his penthouse, you trained your mind to block his advances and not give into his charm. However, whether you intended to or not, your outfit choice for the session was along the lines of cute and practical. The grey headband keeping your hair away from your face was matching the gym shorts that you were wearing. Your physique was on display without it coming off as a little desperate. It’s not like you needed to put in any type of effort anyway, you were beautiful enough on your own but the outfit was just a greater temptation for Lewis.

Even though you lied to yourself that you didn’t enjoy the game of teasing that you played with him.

“Lewis! I’m here!” You yelled as you walked through the lobby of his penthouse. The patters of Roscoe’s feet against the marbled floor rang through to your ears. The aging dog ran towards you and it brought a smile to your face. You bent down and grabbed the pup’s face into your hands and caressed the deep folds of his cheeks.

“Hi boy!” You spoke with a high pitch to your voice. “You’ve been good for your Dads when I’ve been away?” He licked the palms of your hands as he wiggled his tail.

“Yeah! Because you’re a good boy aren’t you? It’s your Dad that’s the trouble maker.” You said to Roscoe before standing up straight.

“Oh I’m a trouble maker now?” His voice was the first thing that you heard before you saw him. As you walked to the kitchen to wash your hands, you caught sight of him leaning against the living room area wall as he watched you.

Dressed in a dark grey fitted t-shirt and matching grey shorts with black thermals beneath. His locs were braided away from his face, forcing you to bare witness to his beauty.

“You’ve always been one, don’t act so surprised now.” You replied as you watched your hands. You may not be able to see him but you could feel his eyes on your back. You bit your lip as you wiped your hands and then turned around. Your hands were on either side of your body on the counter as you looked at him.

“When have I ever caused trouble for you darling?” He asked as he stood to his full height and moved closer to you in the kitchen area, stopping by the island and leaning fowards against it.

“Do you really want me to answer that question? Because I have a list of examples.”

He laughed at your response instead of answering. He knew exactly what you were talking about.

“Anyway. Are you ready for our session today? I don’t want any problems this time around. You have somewhere to be and so do I. So no funny games.” You stressed the last part of your statement - more to yourself than to him.

Lewis’s eyes were drooped low, his long lashes nearly touching the apple of his cheeks as they hung low before he trailed them from the exposed skin of your thighs to your flushed cheeks as you held in your breath. His teeth trapped the flesh of his bottom lip to restrict his smile from spreading as he stood up straight.

“I’ll be on my good behaviour. I promise.” His voice was an octave deep and laced with temptation. You knew then, that this training session would be anything but smooth sailing.

A good sparring session was a great way to end a productive session. Lewis stayed true to his word for most of the time but he’d throw in a flirtatious jab here and there that had you flustered. As much as you tried to hate it, you revelled in the way that those comments made you feel.

One last sparring session and you won’t have to see him for another three days.

You needed that breather.

“Come on baby girl. You can give it to me harder than that.” He teased as he bounced on his feet as he moved away from you. You rolled your eyes as you flexed your arms.

“I’m your trainer Lewis. I’m not supposed to be harder on you.”

“I can take it.” He shrugged. “That’s something you’re supposed to be saying in the right circumstances.”

“You’re a cocky little shit!” You stressed as your fingers flexed in the punching mitts before you began to run after him.

“There we gooo. Give me that fire, show me what you got baby.” He smirked at you. You fumed as you stopped chasing him and took off your punching mitts.

“Beating your ass would give me the greatest pleasure.” You said as you threw the mitts down before pulling the bandage wrap out of your open bag.

“I can do many things that can bring you pleasure that don’t involve us boxing.”

“Prove it.” You spat at him.

Before things moved forward, Lewis did the one thing that he knew would disrupt your focus.

He took his shirt off and kicked it close to the edge of the floor to ceiling mirror. All of the witty comments dried in your throat as you took him in. The defined muscles of his abs, the deep pelvis lines, the rich tan contrasting his tattoos and most of all, the budding chest hair.

Involuntarily, your thighs clenched at the sight.

He licked his lips as he watched you struggle for words. He could see the fight in your eyes as you were determined to not fall into the trap of your attraction but your body was failing tremendously.

Fine. You thought. Two can play that game.

Without warning, you grabbed the edge of your top and pulled it over your head. If Lewis thought his naked chest would disrupt you then you could pull the same card. Left in just your padded sports bra, you watched as Lewis became as speechless as you had been.

You were not going to make this easy for him.

Lewis finished wrapping his hands. “I’m ready.”

The both of you put up a good fight. Physically and mentally. Every hit, every jab, felt like a victory in the war of desire. Both of your bodies damp from sweat with how much energy you exerted during this ‘friendly’ sparring session.

You were winning. He asked for your all and you gave it. This was something just to prove to yourself that you could resist him. That you could withstand his charm and that your attraction didn’t lead you blind.

Then he grabbed your wrists and pulled younclose to his body. You gasped as he tightly held your hands behind your back trapping them by his torso as his other arm wrapped around your waist.

“Aren’t you tired of playing this game sweetheart?” He whispered in your ear.

“You started it. Of everyone, you should know how crucial professionalism should be.” You hissed back as you struggled to get out of his hold.

“How could I focus on staying professional when every part of me wants to explore every inch on you. And don’t try to deny it either. I see the way you look at me, the way you desire me in a way that would disgrace the gods.”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he spoke. His words were the apple from the tree of knowledge and his voice was the serpent in the garden of Eden.

“I can’t pretend anymore.” He confessed. “I want you YN. I want you so fucking much.”

“Now you admit it.” You say as you squirmed. Lewis held onto you tighter.

“I never denied it darling.” He chuckled in your ear. “You did. We wouldn’t be having this back and forth if you had just admitted that you were into me the way I was into you.”

“That wouldn’t change the fact that I was compromising a client-employer relationship and my reputation just for some dick.”

“This dick would change your life baby.”

“You’re so fucking annoying!”

“Turn around and say that to my face.”

He spun you in his arms before another word could be uttered. You stared at each other with no words spoken as your eyes ventured from their eyes to their lips. The action causing you to lick your lips.

“Cat got your tongue?” He teased as his hands dropped to your waist and pulled you closer. The smile on his face held the promise of everything that he had teased and taunted you about. Wicked and sinful things that had your mouth watering at the mere thought of them.

Body to body like this, the wall that you had been building in your mind had come crumbling down. Not that you had put up that big of a fight anyway but the effort that had been exerted up to now was too much and you were giving it up.

You were ready. You were more than ready.

“You’ve been trying your hardest to break me. And for a while I forgot that I too can play this game very well.” You said as you hooked a finger around the strap of your bra and brought it down your arm.

“I want you Lewis, I do.” You finally admitted. “But you want me just as much, if not more.” You unhooked your bra and flung it across the room. He fought to push the bandages away from his knuckles before embracing you with his big hands running up and down your back.

“If you had just given me the chance, I would loved on you the second I knew that you felt the same.” He whispered as his hands trailed down your back and settled on your ass. He kneaded the flesh of your ass cheeks, drawing you closer so that you could feel his breath on the top of your lip.

You leaned forward and kissed him with all of your might. All of the pent up desire you had been holding at bay for the last seven months burst out of you. You pushed your body into his as he moved his lips roughly over yours, opening your mouth for the sweet intrusion of his tongue as he deepened the kiss. Your nails dug into his back as you wrapped a leg around his waist as you felt the lower part of his body pressing into you.

Lewis moved his hand from your ass, trailing it up your spine before cupping the back of your neck and pulling you inwards. You gasped as he nibbled on your bottom lip, pulling the lip into his mouth. Your pussy creamed at the realisation at just how hard his dick was as it rested against you.

“Let me taste you.” You said as you pulled your lips away. “Please.”

“Do you think you deserve it? After the way you made me feel for wanting you? You think you deserve my touch?”

“Lewis … please.”

“Take these off.” He growled as he tugged at your grey shorts. You made light work of them before stepping back into his embrace. Your small cotton panties were digging into the flesh of your hips but Lewis quickly tugged at the material and shoved them down the length of her legs.

His eyes focused back on your face as he felt your hands move down the back of his head and edge him closer to your core. He pushed your legs further apart as his fingers teased your hot skin. His eyes soaking in every reaction that he drew out of you.

“You have spend the last seven months playing hard to get but here you are, ready to crumble at the touch of my fingers.” Lewis whispered as he pressed kisses onto your stomach.

“You’re talking entirely too much for someone who has pussy staring them in their face.”

“And this pussy is glorious, believe me. But I need you to suffer a little bit.”

He gave you an inch by running his fingers teased along your slit but did not settle his fingers where you needed him the most. Instead of shoving his digits into your cunt like he wanted, he brought them to his lips and licked them clean.

“So good.” He said and then stood straight and buried his face into the crook of your neck. He licked at your flesh before sinking in his teeth. The way he drew your skin into his mouth caused you to moan.

“Lew, please. Please.” You begged before he claimed your mouth yet again. He kissed you hard with his tongue lashing against yours before his teeth sunk into your bottom lip causing the sweetest pain to shoot up your spine. You pushed your body against him as far as your standing position would allow.

He wrapped his hands in your sweated out hair which was reverting back to its natural curl pattern. He pulled away from your lips and stared down at you with the darkest look of arousal tainting his beautiful eyes.

You watched as a cocky smirk etched on his face. You knew Lewis had you. Once your inhibitions were shut down, it was very easy for you to turn to your desires. And that lust had you falling to your knees as you looked up at him as his cock swelled in the confines of his thermals.

You pushed the fabric further down his thick thighs until his cock was revealed and … holy shit.

You knew that Lewis had the inches and the girth to work with but you weren’t expecting it to be so … heavy? His dick was so big and thick but it was nothing you couldn’t work with. Especially with the smugness glazing his eyes, you took it as a challenge.

His legs were spread, standing tall and proud as his dick bobbed in front of you. Heavy, leaking and begging for your oral attention.

“Open your mouth.” He said as he held his cock by the base and pointed it towards your plump lips.

Your mouth quickly hung open and your tongue darted out to lick his tip. You swirled your tongue around the head before you slid most of his dick into your mouth and sucked. You were extra as fuck as you licked and slurped, wanting him to understand the sloppy, messy head that awaited him. That you had been fantasising about this moment for a long time and now you were going to show to show him what you were about.

“Sucking this dick so fucking good.” He groaned as he held your head and tipped it back before moving his hips so that his tip was brushing back against the back of your throat.

“This is what you needed huh? My dick in your mouth to turn you into a little slut for me.” You moaned around him as you stretched your hands out on his torso, feeling his chest hairs prickle against your palm.

You don’t answer him as you continue working your head up and down his length. He felt so good in your mouth. The muskiness of his scent was all that you could think off as your saliva pooled in your mouth the more he worked his hips, fucking your mouth.

You were so eager to suck his dick. You pushed your head down further, taking him deeper down your throat which caused his knees to buckle.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Lewis groaned as he fisted your hair tighter, looking down at you as you moved your head fast, spit bubbles building as your nose brushed against his pelvis before your hand came up to fondle with his balls.

“Just like that. Keep sucking me just like that baby.” He gasped as you continued sucking on him as if you were trying to take his soul. Sure, Lewis had brought you down to your knees but you were making him regret ever thinking that he held all of the cards. There were no words to describe just how good you were sucking his dick. Your hands cradling his balls, his tip repeatedly hitting the back of your throat - this was more than otherworldly.

When you pulled your lips away from him, Lewis felt like he could breathe as you moved your hand around his length in tight, circular motions.

“If I didn’t want to come inside of you, I would have come all over your beautiful face.” He spoke with a hoarseness to his voice before he manoeuvered you underneath him. The gym mats were harsh against your skin but you were past the point of caring.

“Fuck me.” You whispered as Lewis shifted your legs into the crooks of his arms as his dick rubbed against your opening. You reached up and claimed his mouth. His saltiness lingered between each entanglement of your lips. You tasted the remnants of your sweetness in his mouth the longer you greedily moved your mouth against his.

You didn’t care for the way the hard mats were biting into your skin. All you cared about what the surge of lust that burst through you as Lewis rubbed his cock against your cunt. His hand travelled up to your throat and squeezed as he positioned himself in between your legs. Every single gasp and little cry that he pulled out of you pushed him closer to the edge. His lips sought your earlobe as he raised your leg to his shoulder before he finally sunk into your pussy.

You were so soft. So sweet. So tight. So wet. You accepted him like you’d been waiting for him all this time and then clenched onto him so hard that Lewis so felt lightheaded before he could complete his stroke.

Lewis needed to regain his composure but you were a withering mess beneath him. Your scent like a cocoon around the both of you, he couldn’t find his bearings as he found a rhythm to his strokes.

Slow and deep as you arched your back and dug your nails into the skin of his back.

Your lips parted as you struggled to catch your breath with the sexy sounds of your pleasure reverberating through the room, bouncing off the equipment back into his ears.

Lewis let your legs fall back to his waist as he dropped to his forearms so that his body, slick with sweat, pressed against yours. You immediately wrapped both of your legs around his waist, pulling him even deeper into you as he resumed his slow, deep thrusts coupled with circular motions that always pulled a sharp, little cry from you beneath him.

For months he had dreamt you like this. Underneath him, begging and crying for him as he deprived your body of pleasure.

Your nipples grazed his chest as he moved. You trailed your fingernails down the length of his back as you pulled him in for frantic kisses as the both of you moved towards the inevitable conclusion.

Lewis pressed his forehead against yours as your pussy started clenching rapidly around him.

“That’s it, baby,” he demanded through his teeth. “Cum all over this dick.”

You screamed his name and it was the sexiest thing he’d ever heard. He covered your mouth with his, swallowing your cries of pleasure, thrusting hard and fast into you as he chased the orgasm building in him.

You scratched at his back, gripped the sheets and bit into the pillow even as you started moving your hips up to meet his dick.

“Lewis!” You yelled as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, your orgasm plummeting through your body.

“That’s it sweetheart. Come all over this dick.” He growled into your ear as he bucked his hips hard and fast before the force of his climax had him tensing and twitching in between your legs.

You hummed softly as Lewis returned to himself once his muscles had stopped twitching. All that pent up energy had finally been released and the both of you were butt naked in his private gym.

So many lines had been crossed tonight but either of you cared. Especially when he kissed you senseless and promised you more orgasms than you were ready to give.

London fashion week be damned ….

#mauvecherie writes #so ready fic #lewis hamilton x black reader #lewis hamilton x black!reader #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton one shot #lewis hamilton fanfiction #lewis hamilton fic #sir lewis hamilton fanfiction #lewis hamilton #lh #sir lewis hamilton

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