This Is So Good!!! Absolutely Love That You Made Another Part For It

This is so good!!! 😍😍 absolutely love that you made another part for it

Live a Little, Give a Little ... More [Part 2]

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Live a Little Give a Little part 1

Summary: you've got one last stunt in you before you retire to have your baby--will your mystery Baby Daddy make a final appearance?

Warnings: Breeding kink, pregnancy, exhibition, groping, public sex, public teasing, dub con, manhandling, rape-esc situation that may be triggering, unprotected sex, creampie.

18+ ONLY

- - - -

You keep waving to your camera even after it clicks off and stops recording. Leaning back in your streaming chair, you close your eyes. 

Well, you did exactly what you set out to do: gained a shit ton of views and earned a mega bonus from your subscribers, rating shooting up thanks to that little stunt you pulled a few months ago.

You peer down, drumming your fingers along the hefty bump that had grown in your belly since then. “Hope you’re a bit more responsible than me, kiddo,” you mumble, smiling softly as you stroke over with gentle fingers.

Getting pregnant was not exactly how you imagined achieving that feat.

In all honesty, the plan was never to fuck a stranger on a crowded train. You were on the pill, but STD and STIs were a thing, so the furthest you had genuinely planned with a few hand jobs and being groped by perverts. 

But the second you felt that man on you, felt his cock pulse in your legs, something else over took you. Your whole bodies shivers with excitement every time recalling that day. Trying to etch every single detail into your memory. His callused hands, the firm, broad chest and shoulders that easily could overpower you, his warm thick fingers dancing along your skin, the trace of his breath along the shell of your ear, each beautiful little grunt and groan echoing in your ear like a broken record. 

His massive fucking hung horse cock.

You’ve been fucked by big-dicked guys before. But to know how to use it so fucking well that you don’t need to be battered to a pulp just to feel it, is something that no man can compare to your handsome baby Daddy.

Slickness pools in your panties. At some point, your belly is going to be big enough that you won’t be able to touch yourself. But for now, as your hand dips into your underwear and gathers your arousal, you think about him. 

If he was here now, would he make you cum on his fingers before you could have his cock buried to the hilt in you? Tell you that you’re a naughty girl, so fertile and sweet for the taking? A cum hungry dumb slut who doesn’t know how to function without his seed filling her up at every conceivable moment. Make you watch yourself in the mirror cum like a whore from his touch as he promises to breed and brand you over and over again for the world to see. You bite your lips, feeling him hot on your skin, balls twitching with each pulse of his seed dumping safely into your waiting womb to take him.

The thoughts of the faceless, nameless man who impregnated you on a crowded train during rush hour brings you to orgasm much quicker than any toy or method you’ve tested. Your jaw drops in a silent scream, a slight grin tugging on your lips as you rub your pussy through her little quakes, desperate to feel complete again.

You come down from your high, sticky fingers tracing along your belly as you drift into your current situation, ironically brought on by your insatiable horny lust.

No, you didn’t intend to have sex with a stranger that day. And when you weighed the odds in the nano-second before he impaled you… I mean, even if you got an infection, so what, just this once? What OnlyFans streamer didn’t have a disease or two? (No, please don’t take that advice)

You got tested immediately afterwards, and thankfully everything else came back negative from your fun encounter.

It only took a few more weeks after that of peculiar symptoms to get tested for something else that, to you genuine surprise, was positive. 

And you don’t know the father.

The man must have super sperm to have blown past your supposedly unstoppable birth control, which hadn’t even failed you when you did that 5 creampie amateur gang bang porno last summer.  Maybe you were only an hour late in taking your dosage on time that one day, too drunk and more concerned about fingering him cum back into you, but still…

You went into shock for a solid week, not sure what to do. Sometimes even now you feel a little jolt in your tummy, and see your body changing, and it just keeps dawning on you that you’re actually about to have a whole ass child.

It’s both thrilling and horrifying shook up in a bottle of hormones and currently sitting on the edge of a cliff. You should scold yourself for how stupid you were, if only you actually regretted it.  Even if you’re about to be a single mother who cant explain a thing to your soon to be child about their daddy, you knew you were gonna love you baby. No doubts.

Besides, when you were more financially stable, you DID plan to have kids at some point. So what if it’s a little sooner than expected? Life is full of unexpected surprises! 

You decided after the baby is born, no more streaming. You were gonna get a more stable, (more cloth required) job and raise your precious kiddo on your own.

But a few teasing streams until then, just to milk those breeding, misogynistic, baby bump hungry men out there willing to throw money at you if you rubbed milk over your belly, would be worth those extra bucks before calling it quits altogether.

Still, it would be nice feel him just one more time…

-

Joel’s been watching your stream obsessively since that day you brazenly showed your pregnant belly to the world. He’s got notifications going off on his phone every time you upload something. 

Even with his cock in his hand, most of the time you just talk to your followers, answer their questions about your pregnancy so far, and about that day.

He sees the way your eyes glint, the corner of your lips curving into an unashamed smile as you retell details about him.

Sure, all the lonely fucks in the chat spam your inbox “that’s so hot”, “god I wish that were me,” “can I use your holes and breed you next? My bus departs in 30 mins ;)”

Honestly, who’s to say you aren’t pulling a total bluff? You’re a porn streamer; it’s your job to feed into men like his fantasies. Maybe you had fucked a dozen guys on the train that day, got pregnant from one of them, and only uploaded Joel’s session because it was the hottest? Maybe you were already pregnant, and you’re just spinning a scandalous story for your followers to hold on to? And who’s to say you don’t already have a cuck boyfriend or husband, who could have been filming or watching you two on the train that day from a different angle?

The thought of you belonging to another man, of the baby you “claim” to his being another’s makes his hand grip his cock tightly, teeth grinding down on one another while staring at your beautiful eyes and smile through the computer screen.

He drops a pool of spit on to his tip before sheathing it over with his hand, lubing his cock. You would usually end the stream with some tease:

“God, my breasts are just getting so sore,” you groan dramatically. You unbutton your blouse and reveal your naked cleavage. “Don’t even have any more bras because they’re getting so damn heavy!” You cup them and moan into the camera, relieving the ache while pinching your nipples. 

Joel licks his lips. He had gotten to know you (or the version of you on your stream) a lot more intimately thanks to discovering your blog. He spent hours studying every detail that he missed. Its one thing to have dumped his load into your exquisite pussy, but to be able to see your face, hear your unashamed moans, ogle your gorgeous breasts and body that he had been denied that day makes him yearn to have you one more time.

Your belly had grown just as quickly, drooping over your pelvis just a bit more than before. You’re not at full mast yet. He watches how you maneuver, maybe a little slower or more bulky than before. It fills him with pride, seeing how much you’re having to struggle with his child growing in you. At the very least, you can still reach to get a bulbous pink dildo in your cunt and flash the camera as you masturbate, crying out as you beg Daddy to breed you again.

Joel cups his balls with one hand while the other furiously works over his shaft. His stomach tenses, building towards his release with eyes transfixed on the way that little cunt still has enough room to fit that toy. He would know, you took him with very little prep. 

“That’s it baby, come on, Come for Daddy,” he groans.  Doesn’t care that he’s jerking off in a dark room by himself to a brightly lit screen of his baby momma that doesn’t even know him. Yet. 

You moan directly into the camera, mouth agape as you thrust the dildo in and out, hitting that sweet spot that has your eyes rolling. You spread your legs over the chair, and the skin strewn across your belly tightens as a gush of liquid squirts out of your pussy.

“Fuck Daddy, making my pussy squirt so fuckin good! M so full my cunt can’t hold all my naughty juices, too full with your cock and your cum and your baby!!”

Haggard groans rumble in his throat as his cock erupts into jets of white ribbons, shooting along the computer screen and covering your face as you smile and lick the dildo clean. He milks his sack of the last little spurts of cum before sighing and leaning back against the chair, dreaming about painting your womb white again with his next load. 

When you come down from your high, and the last of the generous tips come flowing in, you usually rub along your swollen tummy. Sometimes it’s subconscious, like you’re comforting your child, other times it’s for the show, twirling around and pushing it out to show everyone how big you’ve gotten. Your voice centers him back to reality.

“And before I forget, I have one final announcement: After our little baby is born, I will be retiring.” You smile softly, but there’s a sense of gratitude mixed with sadness. “I know! It’s been such a great journey, and I’ve never felt soooo good about something as amazing as this, and to share it all with you is more than I could have ever hoped. So as a final send off, I’m doing one last exhibition piece.”

Joel leans, ignoring the stain of his cum drying along his shirt and smudged into his laptop.

 “If you’re out there, Daddio, I want to meet you. Catch me in the same area, around the same time—and no I’m not going to tell you all exactly where on here!  If you’re there, you’ll know—and if not, I will be streaming the whole thing live this time so don’t miss out! Even if I can’t find my blessing baby daddy, I will certainly still be putting on a show for however many lucky bastards get to grope a pregnant, single slut like me!”

-

You stand along the train platform, anxiously glancing over your shoulder at the random passersby just trying to catch a commute. Some men have definitely eyed you in less than innocent ways already. It’s a cest pool of perverts today. 

You contemplate the biggest hiccup in your plan: You know the only chance you have to recognize him is from feeling his huge dick splitting you open again. Cinderella slipper style, if you will. You didn’t have a name, an address, any identifiable features—you wouldn’t even be able to recognize his face if it were right in front of you given that you never really saw more than a blurred partial reflection of it in the first place. That monster cock is the only thing that you’re betting your life on right now to find him.

But for the safety of your baby—you had 0 plans to fuck anybody today. And I mean it this time.

The wind from the train tunnels keeps riling up your frilly dress, the fabric now fitting a little more snug than it did before thanks to your baby on the way. There’s a sense of excitement mixed with disappointment steaming in your flip flops. No, you had no hope of actually finding him again. 

 But who’s to say you can’t still have a little fun, touch some dicks, get your tits squeezed and call it a successful career?

Rush hour got a bit crazy, and boy were the men just as in a hurry. You bit your lip and smiled at a man who brushed by you, his hand happily squeezing your little ass cheek through your dress. He seemed young, thin, definitely not your man, but his long fingers did feel nice, caressing your hips as he grinned to you as well. Swaying your chest in front of him, he peers over your cleavage. The two of you waited along the platform, the crowd shifting awkwardly around you waiting for the train. You twiddled your hair, angling your phone up so it could capture his hand gently caressing your lower belly. 

His eyes widen in surprise: your bump wasn’t entirely obvious under the skirt of the dress, still small enough to be concealed under baggy clothing but very obvious the moment you feel it or pull the fabric tight. You giggle as he eagerly stroked over your belly, and you can barely see the twinkle of a fantasy forming behind those eyes.

The train followed forward a little too soon, and the man got on without another glance at you. Probably his wedding ring might have had something to do with it, but no matter. You remained where you were.

When the cart rushed past again, the wind blowing your dress, you caught the eye of a group of two behind you. You winked at them, lifting your skirt scandalously to show off your bare ass and wiggle at them, before enticing them to follow you behind the stairwell. 

You propped your phone up quickly, conveniently cutting off from the neck up to disguise their faces before they too rounded the corner. One was a bit shorter, dark haired, maybe around 40s with a full beard. His hands were all wrong, not your guy, but you didn’t deter him as he stroked along your cheek and down your cleavage, pulling the fabric of the dress tight to see your swollen tits. 

The other man, tall and muscular under that tight shirt, blond and younger, pressed firmly along your back, the outline of his cock making you rub your ass along his crotch. You quickly reached behind you and stroked his stiff bulge while they pinched your nipple through your dress, held the weight of your pregnant belly and brushed their knuckles along your inner thigh. 

Their faces didn’t matter. Maybe they were your fans, maybe they were just some lucky pervs at the right place at the right time. Either of them could be your mystery man, while neither could be too. You try to brush off your disappointment with a flirty laugh, stroking both of them through their trousers as they breathed in your perfume and continued to touch your body. No, their cocks were all wrong. It didn’t feel this rigid or this plump, his tip was more bulbous than this, and the curvature is in the opposite direction.

You glanced at your camera, making sure you’re getting good angles of your pronounced body sandwiched between these two creeps. They didn’t say much, thankfully, and you didn’t care to talk. Your feed was blowing up, with them none the wiser at behind recorded.  It’s not until you peep again at the screen that you see a third man entering the frame behind you. 

The other guys shift uncomfortably at his intrusion, but you look up at lucky perv number three. You don’t bat an eye when he boldly put his hand between your thighs and slid up along your skin, thick digits grazing your wet folds. You hum contently. Oh, he’s here for the cake. You try not to go hazy, eying the cheeky bastard while being stimulated all over.

 His height was between the other two but that didn’t make him any less imposing. Broad around the shoulders with a bit of a soft tummy, but his denim shirt hugged those biceps so well. And he’s older too, much older due to the wrinkles under his brown eyes and the grays starting to take over in his curled hair and patchy beard—

Your brows furrow for a second, not enough time to process your thoughts before he’s shoving the other two men aside despite their protests and walking you back against the tiled wall, your bum resting on the metal bar there. His torso parts your legs perfectly, and you gasp, hands gripping his shoulders to keep your balance. He only grins, something very knowing behind that look, a secret you feel left out from, and you’re about to call it all off until he rolls that massive THANG between his legs against your uncovered core.

You moan out in surprise, your head falls forward on his chest. He growls something out to the other guys, who end up scurrying away with their palms pressed on their crotches like scared dogs. 

“L-Look, mister,” you say, and fuck you should be trying to fight this harder. Especially with the jangle of his belt coming undone between you. You don’t want some stranger fucking you—again—that defeats the whole purpose of the tease! You could still shout for help, there’s plenty of other people just around the corner if he tries anything funny. And your baby, your health, your safety— “I don’t —I’m not in the mood for anything—penetrative. But I could satisfy you in other ways,” you huff, dragging your lower lip between your teeth.

He smirks again. His breath is warm, so close to your face you could almost kiss him. He feels so strong yet so soft, holding you securely against him, his hand cradling your belly while his tented cock pressed along your clit. Your hearts racing, beating wildly that you don’t doubt he can’t feel it against his own. Maybe he’s considering it, something willing yet still satisfying. You feel drunk off him despite only sampling the scent of him, not the taste quite yet.

He holds your gaze with his curved nose honing yours. Its intimate.

Familiar.

You should protest at least a little when he flips you around and bends you over. He’s got one hand protectively over your belly, making sure you don’t fall into the wall. You glance up, and the sight of your body positioned perfectly centered at your camera. Fuck—he knew where the camera was? Was he a fan watching your stream before he came over? Your shocked expression fills the screen as his torso and hips press against your ass, yellow dress flipped over your hips for his private view.

Your mind is reeling, unaware of the thick slap of his length against your folds—that jolts your attention. You know that cock…

He thrusts in all at once.  No voice escapes your parted lips to convey the cross eyed, fantastic, unbelievable, one in a million stretch that you had been missing for months, now filling you up to the brim and suffocating every available micro meter inside of you, and making you whole again. The same stretch, the one that’s making you cum on his cock right now, flooding your senes as arousal electrifies every nerve in your body.

The man behind you only chuckles, still getting the perfect view of your gaping mouth and furled brows reflected on the phone scream. he hisses lowly between his teeth as you continue to clench around his cock with your sweet wet little cunt. It’s like scanning a membership, and your body finally recognizes the owner of the shop. You pant harshly into the bar, walls convulsing over his thick length buried deep to your occupied womb.

The man that had placated your mind, your pussy and womb for the last 6 months, the man who left the best gift you’d ever received, the man right here in the flesh, that you had almost considered a dream were it not for the growing swell of his child in your womb occupying your delirium…

He leans over you, just enough so that only his lips are visible at the top of the screen, his voice ghosting along your ear: “Hi babygirl. Missed you. Looks like you have a little surprise for Daddy.” You feel his bear palms caress your swollen tummy.

Your lips curl into a delirious smile, lashes fluttering in blissful patterns of love as your entire being welcomes this man into the home he’s already carved out of you.

Even your baby nestled small in your womb wiggles excitedly at the recognition of her Daddy.

Neither of you look away from another as he begins thrusting into you, rocking your body back and forth along his member like the toy you’re so good at being.

He was amazing—no, better than before if it’s possible. Impossibly hard, long, thick and throbbing, all shoved up your pussy with desperate ruts, impaling your soaking pussy over and over again. You had to remind yourself, still lost like a love sick puppy in his eyes, that you were still in public, being fucked raw, pregnant, behind the stairwell of a crowded train station during rush hour. Nosy chatter echoed through the tunnel as the two of you humped against one another, partially clothed minus your genitals connected in a haze of passionate fucking. The phone in front of you is only forgotten, and you can only imagine the comments and tips blowing up at the fact that you’d actually found him.

Despite the openness, the vulnerability of your position, it feels far more intimate, just the two of you fucking to your hearts content. You’ll wonder later about the wondering eyes from trains beginning to enter the station and seeing the two of you in the blurred windows , but right now, you’d be ready to take his second bastard child right this second. 

Your handsome hero reaches past you and turns the recording off, flipping the phone down. If he’s going to have you again, really have you, it would be his own little private show. No camera. No show. He abruptly pulls out before spinning you around and nestling himself between your thighs again, his cock aligning to your entrance before sliding right back in. Right where he belongs.

“Oooooh shiiiit. Shit Momma, you’re so good at taking it,” he rasps into your neck. He presses a wet kiss along your throat, each thrust pushing you back but he holds you close and sucks you right into his grasp again. Your open lips hover over one another as he sets his pace again, his tip now kissing your cervix with each kiss of your pregnant belly to his naval.

“It’s mine, isn’t it?” He growls with an edge of desperation. “Tell me it’s mine.” Beads of sweat begin to form along the creases of his forehead, but he didn’t once consider slowing his pace. With the pay your ass jiggles at each slap of skin.

“It’s yours,” you cry. There’s no doubt. your heart screams with joy just as the knot in your stomach snaps. he grips your mouth with his strong hand as your head rolls in ecstasy, wailing out into his flesh with unfiltered moans.

Harsh breaths are forced out of his nose, his lips switching between a snarl and a grin as he nears his end. 

“Inside,” you hum into his ear.

He wasn’t planning on putting it anywhere else. With one final heave, he lifts you off the rail briefly, your weight balncing under his arms and your tiptoes on the ground as he bursts inside of you, painting your walls with his hot cream.

You both breathe in the polluted air. Distant echoes of the rafters rattling in the darkened caves ahead while footsteps rustle down the metal stairs behind the two of you. The breeze of the caverned tunnels cools the sweat along both your bodies. He hasn’t let go, still glued to you, holding you close as if you’d slip away.

You sit upright in his lap, trying to catch your breath. You survey one another, pupils blown wide yet calming. The two of you just giggle as your pants slowly sync together. His rough yet gentle fingertips stroke your cheek before brushing away the strands of messy hair that had covered your beautiful face, and for the first time, he can really get a full look at you in person.

“I’m Joel,” he says sweetly. He brings your knuckles to his lips and presses a gentle and long kiss, never once breaking eye contact with you.

You shake your head and laugh, offering your name to him as well.

Although, at this point, with his cock still impaled deep inside, his baby growing in your womb— its safe to say the two of you are well past such a redundant formality.

-----

Permanent Taglist

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce

Series Taglist:

@princesatracionera @mellowcakiesworld @dovesgirl @lixaftermidnight @bitchesuntitled @brittmb115 @sheepdogchick3 @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @lostfleurs @shadowsaz @supernaturalstilinski @batsodapants @pasta-emulsion @pedroisghosties @fairlyang @poeticpascal @amyispxnk @ghostlovesbaguettes @itsokbbygrl @lovehappyloki

🥵🥵🥵

Free Use, Full Plate

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Masterlist

Wordcount: 1,741

Summary: Joel's frustrated after a long day at work and takes it out on your pussy. Basically just pwp

Warnings: 18+, unprotected p in v, assplay, fingering, f!oral receiving, consentual freeuse, breeding & house wife kink, food waste, reader has hair, breasts, and wears yoga pants. Joel calls reader sexy momma.

Notes: Just a life I wanna live, tysm to everyone who voted in this poll this was the winning vote. Ty @saradika-graphics for the divider.

Joel walks through the front door, tired and frustrated after a long day of work. The smell of dinner cooking fills the air, and he sees you bent over, grabbing a pot, your shirt riding up, revealing the small of your back.

You've had an agreement for a while now - free use, where Joel can take what he needs without any hesitation or resistance from you. It's a release for him, a way to let go of the frustrations of the day without taking them out on anything or anyone else.

As he approaches you, he can feel the tension in his body begin to ease. He reaches out and runs his hand over your shoulder, feeling the warmth of your skin beneath his fingers. You don't stop what you're doing, but he can hear your breathing quicken as he continues to touch you.

He pulls your shirt up and over your head, exposing your bare back. He leans down and presses his lips to your skin, feeling you shiver beneath his touch. He unclasps your bra, letting it fall to the floor.

As he cups your breasts in his hands, he can feel himself getting harder. He moves closer, pressing himself against you as he continues to touch you. You're still cooking, but he can hear the soft moans escaping your lips as he kneads your flesh.

He reaches down and undoes his pants, freeing his cock. He slides it between your legs, feeling the heat of your body through your stretchy yoga pants. No matter what was agreed upon Joel never pressured you to dress or look a certain way and it made you feel much more confident in yourself and your relationship. He rocks his hips back and forth, letting himself enjoy the sensation of touching you, even if it's just through your clothing.

“Mmm, Joel, you're home," you say, looking over your shoulder at him with a smile. "How was your day, my love?"

He doesn't answer right away, instead focusing on the feeling of your body against his. He can feel the heat of your pussy through your pants, and he presses himself against you harder, grinding his hips in slow circles.

“Don't wanna think about it. Just tell me what you're makin' baby," he finally says, his voice weak with desire. He slides his hands down your sides, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your pants. He pulls them down, exposing your bare ass. He takes a moment to appreciate the sight before him, getting on his knees and pushing his face right in there, taking the globes of your ass and making them jiggle onto his cheeks.

You giggle at the feeling, but you can't help feeling aroused as his large nose hits some of your folds as he shoves his face in as deep as he can, almost like he wants to suffocate the bad day away. "Just pasta," you reply, focusing on stirring the sauce so it doesn't burn.

He finally stands up and replies, "Smells delicious baby, just like you." he says, leaning down to press his nose into the crook of your neck, taking a deep inhale of your sent. “Mmm fuckin’ heaven.” He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you back against him as he continues to grind his hips.

You let out a soft moan as he nips at your shoulder. You can feel yourself getting wetter, your body responding to his touch, but you try your best not to let dinner burn. He reaches down and slides a finger inside you, feeling how wet you are. He groans at the sensation.

"Joel," you say, your voice trembling with pleasure. "I'm almost ready to serve dinner."

"That's alright, love," he says, his voice strained with desire. "I can wait."

You turn around in his embrace to kiss him, but he stops you, his eyes darkening. He pats the countertop beside the stove. "C'mon, get up here darlin'."

"But the food." You point at the pan.

"You know, I could eat this whole dinner and still not be satiated in the right way. Now get on the damn counter, you sexy momma. Gonna fill you up real good.”

With those words, you scramble to the other side of the stove, sitting on the countertop. He starts rubbing his hands across your naked thighs, slowly working his way up until his hands reach the center of your chest.

“Come closer, sweetheart,” he whispers. “Wanna taste you.” He leans close then lowers his head and bites the tip of your nipple. Your nipples start to erect instantly, and your core feels tight. “Fuckin’ perfect.” He gets lower so his face is right between your legs.

Your stomach clenches as he kisses your inner thigh. “Joel…”

His eyes look up into yours. He pulls his mouth away just enough from your skin so he can talk, "Worry 'bout the sauce, I'm busy havin' my appetizer." His tongue swipes your clit, licking it gently before he begins sucking on the skin. You let out a soft sigh when his warm tongue touches your clit once more. You try to tend to the dinner currently cooking but it's near impossible to do so with him rubbing and sucking at you. “Keep stirring," he adds with a playful smirk. He slips two fingers between your legs, sliding them into your folds and circling one slowly before he plunges two more in. He starts moving faster. Your orgasm starts building in your belly.

"Mmmm, Joel..." you whine, grabbing onto the edge of the counter, digging your nails into the wooden surface. "I'm gonna come…" You start thrusting against his hand.

Joel stands up, not letting you finish and takes a step back, his eyes roaming over your naked body. "You're so fucking beautiful, baby, I'm the luckiest man," he says, his voice loaded with desire. He reaches out and runs his hand over your breast, tweaking your nipple between his fingers.

You gasp at the sensation, your body already on edge from his earlier ministrations. "Joel, I need to finish dinner," you say, trying to keep your voice steady.

"I know, darlin," he says, his hand sliding down your stomach and between your legs. He starts rubbing your clit in slow circles, making you moan with pleasure. "I won't let you burn it."

He helps you off the counter and turns you around so you're facing the stove, your naked ass pressed against his hips. He reaches around you and grabs a pan of garlic bread, placing it in the oven. "Now, let's get back to work," he says, his voice low and seductive.

He slides his cock between your legs, the head of his shaft pressing against your wet folds. He starts rocking his hips back and forth until he slides inside you, fucking you slowly and deeply. "Keep stirring, baby," he says, his lips pressed against your ear.

You cry out as he hits that sweet spot inside you, your body trembling with pleasure. "Joel, I'm gonna come," you gasp, your fingers tightening around the spoon.

"Not yet," he commands, his hand reaching around to rub your clit.

He starts fucking you harder, his hips slapping against your ass. You can feel yourself getting close, your orgasm building deep in your belly. "Joel, please," you beg, your voice trembling.

He reaches up and grabs your hair, pulling your head back so he can kiss your neck. "Uh-uh, you wait till I say so," he growls, his teeth scraping against your skin.

Joel continues to thrust into you, his pace steady and relentless. You can feel your orgasm right on the brink, your body feels like it might explode "Joel, please," you whimper, your fingers tightening around the spoon you were supposed to be stiring the sauce with. "Joel, I can't, m'gonna come please," you gasp, your breath coming in short, sharp bursts.

“Yes you can, baby just a little more,” he says, pulling your hair and kissing the side of your head, holding onto you tightly. “Wanna fill you up, make you round and beautiful.” He slams into you, his balls hitting your ass. You feel juices dripping from his length, mixing in with your own fluids as they drip down your leg and onto the floor. He pushes his hips in harder and harder, causing you to cry out as you feel the intensity of his hard, thick flesh hitting your walls.

You can feel your heart racing as well, your mind clouded with lust and pleasure. "Oh fuck, oh god, Joel,” you pant, squeezing your eyes shut and gripping the edge of the countertop for dear life as you feel your climax building. “Oh Joel! I'm coming'!" You cry out as your body convulses against him. You hear him release a long, loud, gutteral moan, releasing into you.

As you come down from your high, he presses his forehead against your shoulder, breathing hard as he lets go of your hips. He finally pulls out, his cock glistening, soaked with your juices. He turns you around pulling you in close. "I think dinner's ready," he says, smirking.

You laugh and wrap your arms around his waist, "I think you're right," you say, your hands running over his chest. You open the oven door to be met with disappointment. The garlic bread is burnt to a crisp, and so is the sauce.

Joel walks up behind you, "you orderin' or am I?"

You both can't help but chuckle at the situation and decide to order pizza, knowing it's a quick and easy solution. Joel wraps his arms around you as he gives you his phone to search for a local pizza place online, placing the order together.

Once the order is placed, you turn around in his arms, looking up at him playfully pouting, "I guess we'll have to settle for pizza tonight."

Joel leans down and presses a gentle kiss to your lips, whispering, "I'd eat pizza every night if it meant I could come home to you like this."

Oh I’m rooting for this couple so much!!! 😍😭 The ending made me so giddy

4. lovesick

Let's Get Lost Chapter 4 | Frankie Morales x female reader

Summary: You and Frankie aren’t together anymore but you’re in a good place. However, spending a week together for your mutual friends’ wedding on a luxury resort might challenge that slightly and realising you’re still in love with your ex is a sure-fire recipe for disaster … Tropes: it was always you, getting back with the ex, beach!Frankie (you know *that* photoshoot) miscommunication, only one bed, good parent Frankie Chapter Warnings: 18+ MDNI, references to past drug addiction, references to alcohol, historic argument referenced, one passing reference to body insecurity, reader is unnamed with no physical desctipton but wears a necklace, Frankie and reader are parents, yearning? Word Count: 3350 Notes: Thank you for the lovely feedback so far - it's meant so much to me and I hope you enjoy this update. I am so excited to share this chapter with you! The chapter title is from Laurel's song lovesick.

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The nearby town is awake and full of life this morning. Dappled light warms your skin as you walk through the main street with the rest of your group. You can smell the salt air of the sea in the distance, interspersed with enticing smells of food as you walk past a bustling restaurant.

You could stay here forever.

Clara’s ahead of you, glued to Santiago and giggling happily as she animatedly tells him about everything she wants to do today. It sounds hectic, involving the beach, the summer club, and a truly incredible amount of ice-cream.

Next to you, Frankie has a soft smile on his face as you catch him looking at your daughter. He seems more relaxed at last. There’s a lightness to him again, his smile reaches his eyes and there’s warmth in his face again. You missed that.

You missed him. You miss him.

Living a life agonising over what could have been is wrong. You made the right decision to leave Frankie at the time. You know that.

You and Clara deserved better than the life that he was promising you both at that moment. Clara was, she is, the priority and quite simply, you didn’t want your child to grow up around active addiction. That’s not a bad thing. Frankie feels the same, he’s told you.

Frankie’s changed now though. Your Frankie’s back and that’s a complication you didn’t expect.

You’re happy for him. He’s lost that haunted look in his eyes; the shadows are lighter on his face. It’s even good to see him in those ridiculous patterned holiday shirts, to notice his hair is just a little longer and the curls are peeking through again and look clean and healthy. He’s not been wearing his hat on holiday and there’s something about seeing his hair like this that makes you want to run your hands through it.

You cannot ruin Benny and Lia’s wedding though. You can suppress this.

You have to.

You’re so close to Frankie right now though.

It happens without thought. You’re not sure who initiates it , whether it’s you or Frankie, but somehow as your arms unconsciously move with the stride you take, your fingers have brushed his. Then they’re entwined. Gently, barely touching really, but linked all the same.

It feels electric.

It feels dangerous.

What are you playing at? Is this wrong? Is it cruel to Frankie? Or you? And what about your daughter? She needs consistency, she needs structure. Not the messed up will they, won’t they? you and her Frankie could develop into.

This feels natural though. It reminds of you of how things used to be. Hand in hand walking down the city streets after dinner, so incontrovertibly in love with him. Lia used to joke you were couple goals, until you weren’t.

The memories you’ve tried to avoid since your breakup, to suppress so that the heartbreak of losing him wasn’t so sharp, are flooding back. It’s too much, it’s too hard.

It’s too messy.

You need the wall back up. You need the pillow barrier to better fight these thoughts back, to fight these stupid tiny gestures.

It’s harmless though, right?

You’re holding hands, you’re hardly pressed against the wall in a sweaty mess. So it’s fine.

It’s fine.

Santi looks back and he meets your eyes. You watch him look down fleetingly and then back at you. No one else would notice it, you’re not even sure Frankie does. You do though. You see how his face changes, the disappointment, something unreadable there too. He shakes his head just slightly.

It’s enough for you to withdraw, to walk towards Clara, making a fuss of her instead.

This is meant to be a family holiday for her, it’s meant to be about Benny and Lia’s wedding.

You can’t do this.

As the steam from the shower dissipates, you notice your reflection looks just a little healthier; a little less weary. While your mind has been running away with you, you realise that the holiday itself might be helping.

You haven’t thought about checking your work emails in days, you haven’t thought about that project or any of it. You feel a little more like yourself again which probably makes sense because you’re at the halfway point now. It always feels like you just start to enjoy and relax in your breaks as the end looms closer.

You place your damp towel back on the radiator and tug at the waistband of your loose trousers one final time. You take a deep breath, applying the finishing touches to freshening up your appearance by liberally spritzing your perfume on your neck and wrists. The warmth of the cardamom scent immediately soothes you further.

You move to put your necklace back on. It’s one you wear every day, you’re not sure how it started but you feel naked without it now. You can’t seem to get the clasp on. The more you try, the more your fingers feel clunky and sweaty and panic rises in your stomach.

You need this necklace to be able to go to lunch, you irrationally tell yourself, adding more unwanted pressure, making your fingers even more slippery.

“Crap,” you exclaim as you almost drop the necklace down the sink.

“Everything okay?” You hear Frankie ask, his soft voice a balm on your panic.

“Uh, hey Frankie, can you help me for a second?”

“Sure, sure. Are you um, are you decent?”

“Yeah, yes, um …” It hadn’t occurred to you that it might have sounded like you weren’t and for a second you try and think about all the scenarios where it might have been something else.

Frankie opens the bathroom door and closes it behind him gently. “Everything okay? You look alright?”

“I can’t get my necklace and I almost dropped it down the sink and - my hands are all sweaty?”

“It’s no problem.”

You hand him the jewellery quickly and he smiles. “You wear this every day, don’t you? I think you were wearing it when we met.”

“I would have been.”

”It’s pretty.”

“Thanks.”

“Can you turn around?”

You oblige, shifting so that Frankie can easily place the necklace around your neck.

“There,” he says after a second.

“Thanks.”

You turn around so you’re facing him. He’s already ready for your late lunch and you can see he’s caught the sun just a little this morning. The guys had been zip-lining earlier after your breakfast in the town - Benny’s idea for a more inclusive, sober, stag event. All of you had already been diving earlier in the week - you love being in the water, it had been like coming home.

Right now, it feels like that moment when you first start a dive though. That momentary pause of doubt as you rely on the oxygen tank, as you sink down deeper into the water’s secrets. It’s exhilarating and terrifying.

You feel like that here with Frankie now.

You move closer to him, taking in the woody scent of his cologne, the slight hint of coconut sunscreen on his arms. He’s here, he’s real.

You’ve missed him.

Your lips are on his without thinking. It’s a move so familiar that it’s pure instinct. You loop your arms around his neck, bringing him ever closer to you so you can feel his torso pressing against you.

He responds, hands in your hair, moving you against the wall as he kisses you deeply.

The two of you don’t need words. You never did.

His hand skims your face, moves down your neck towards your waist as he traces the contours of your body, rests his hands on the edge of your shorts, breathes heavily onto your neck before returning to your lips.

You can feel how he wants you. You can feel the anticipation building in your stomach. You need him, you realises as you trace your fingers on the buttons of his shirt, unbuttoning it and feeling the heat of his skin, noticing the freckles coming out with all the sunshine here. You take in the broadness of his shoulders, the way his lips feel against yours and his hands and you need him to move away from your waistband, beyond your cotton underwear to a point of no return.

This kiss already obliterates that barrier though, right?

His hands finally start to move down -

“Mummy,” your daughter calls and you immediately pull away from Frankie.

He looks at you, breathing raggedly.

“I’ll uh - I’ll go and check on her.”

“Yeah, I just, I just need a minute,” Frankie says in a low voice, his cheeks flushed.

“Right, yes, of course.”

“Mummy? Daddy?”

“Just coming,” you say, rolling your eyes at Frankie’s smirk and the slight shake of his head there. You raise your eyebrows at him.

“Not quite,” you whisper teasingly.

“Well,” Frankie says, leaning in close again.

“MUMMY!”

“Dammit, I can tell you she’s definitely spent too much with Will. Fuck me,,” Frankie mutters. You’re not sure entirely what he means by referring to Will at that moment, but you’re too busy trying to quickly regain your composure, to get to your daughter. It’s something you can store to muse on later.

Reality calls.

The sound of the whirlpool covers the dull tones of discussion from others in the spa area. You take a sip of your tea, leaning back and shutting your eyes.

“So this is nice,” Lia says, the smile evident in the tone of her voice. “I feel like I’m finally relaxing a bit.”

“Good, you should.” How are you doing with all the prep and you - you’re marrying Benny!”

“I know, it’s … I don’t even know what to say. I love him. That’s it - I love him and I want this. I am so ready for this.” Lia smiles happily, tucking a strand of hair behind her ears. “It’s going to be great.”

“I’m so happy for you both, ‘m happy something so good came out of the last year or so.”

“Are you and Frankie - are you two okay still?” There’s caution in her voice. The anxious part of you wonders if perhaps it’s because she’s afraid you’ll ruin her wedding, cause a scene like you did at Will’s wedding. Guilt pools in your stomach because you shouldn’t make your friend feel like this.

You’re desperate to tell her.

I kissed him. It’s on the tip of your tongue, you can feel the words forming.

You want to tell her.

It was a damn good kiss after all.

Something stops you though.

“We’re good,” you say finally. “We’re friends again and we both want the best for Clara. That’s all that matters, right?”

“Yeah. I’m actually really proud of you both. This is pretty damn mature. I’m glad you’re not, I don’t know, just messing each other around. I know it was hard, I know the breakup and everything that happened - you’ve been really strong and I am proud of you.”

On any other day, her words would fill you with pride. Today though, guilt spreads through your body instead, searing heat of anxiety with it.

“So, ”

Your name is called as the massage therapist walks into the spa.

“Later,” you say to Lia apologetically before following the stranger out of the main spa, grateful for her interruption.

Massages are strange. They’re supposed to be relaxing but you find it hard to turn off your brain, the hints of anxiety about the parts of your body you’re less than comfortable with, whether or not you’re being judged and the underlying worry of what if you fall asleep? What if you snore?

This is a surprisingly relaxing experience though - your masseuse has checked her pressure, ensured you’re comfortable and you’re starting to relax a little, to lose a little of that tension you were holding. Soft piano music plays and you shut your eyes, trying to turn off your thoughts a little.

“So are you the bride? It’s a big wedding party, isn’t it?”

“No, my friend Lia is. I’m one of the bridesmaids.”

“That’s nice.”

“They met because of me though. Well, me and my ex.” You have no idea why you’re saying this but surely there’s a privacy code, right? You can’t tell Lia, or Sophia, or anyone. So why not a stranger?

“That’s nice.”

“It was … wasn’t the best scenario.”

“Oh.” The masseuse pays attention to a knot in your neck, releasing some of the waves of tension you’ve felt recently. Maybe that’s what makes you continue.

“We had an awful break up. At our friend’s wedding, who is in fact the brother of the groom. I mean awful too and public.”

“Oh boy.”

“Yep, talk about drama. And I think - no, no, I definitely did. I just kissed my ex today, like a proper in the movies, perfect cinematic kiss. That’s one thing, but I think I might still be in love with him. I’m going to ruin Lia’s wedding too, aren’t I?”

The masseuse pauses, you feel her lift her hands above your body.

“I’m going to give you a free face mask with this. I think - I think you need it.”

Eighteen Months Ago - Will’s Wedding, Florida You’ve been pretending all evening. You have become so skilled at pretending, you think you could give Meryl Streep a run for her money. It’s exhausting though. You’re exhausted. Next to you, Sophia is humming as she opens her lip gloss and tops up her makeup. She’s changed into a different dress for the evening; less dramatic and easier to dance in. She looks beautiful, there’s a warm smile on her face, her complexion is glowing and she looks serene. Part of you hates her for that. “You look great,” Sophia says as she catches you frowning at your own reflection. “I’m so glad you and Frankie are here. the way Will is with him and Santi, they’re as much his brothers as Benny. And after Tom -” “Yeah.” “It was nice that Molly came, right? I think Tom would have liked that.” “Definitely,” you say, even though from how Frankie used to talk about the divorce with Tom and Molly you are not so sure Tom is looking down grinning right now. Tom didn’t make it back though and Frankie barely did. You still don’t know much about what happened, Sophia doesn’t seem to either. The men don’t talk about it at all. You’ve lost your Frankie though. He didn’t need to die to not come back. It just means that no one knows you’re in mourning. You keep hanging on, you keep hoping. You’re sure there’s something you could do better to help get him back. “How’s Clara doing?” Sophia asks. “Great.” She hasn’t slept in weeks, maybe months. Sleep itself is a foreign concept now and no matter what you read, no matter what you try, your daughter just cannot sleep through a night. “And you and Frankie? Are you guys next - should I, uh, aim the bouquet towards you?” You laugh lightly, swallow the bitter taste in your throat and the words you can’t say. “Sure. Shall we head out?” You’re pretty sure Frankie is using again.

Now

You pull yourself out of the memories, not wanting to go any further into that night.

You remember the aftermath all too well though. The DJ was playing Murder on the Dancefloor and the irony of it still makes you almost laugh. Your relationship died on that dance floor to a fitting song.

Flashes come back to you against your will as you try and focus on the spa, on the now.

“I don’t think we can do this anymore. I love you, Frankie. God, I love you, but we can’t.” Frankie’s look of betrayal filtering through the residual high. The heaviness that here at Will’s wedding you’ve suddenly voiced the thoughts that have consumed you for weeks. Liquid courage and the image of Sophia’s face, so full of a hope you can’t imagine anymore, guided you to this moment. “Here, really? You’re just giving up on me?” “Tell me you’re sober, Frankie, swear it.” “Don’t do this here.” “We can’t do this anymore. We can’t. It’s not - I’m done, I can’t, Frankie, I can’t.” Your voice is panicked, rising. Echoed shouts, the feel of stares, so many stares. Music going quiet. Santi and Benny guiding you both away from everybody else. Tears. Yours. His. An ending. It’s over. You can’t come back from this.

You blink back tears. It was a bad break up and it would have been so much easier if you’d ever hated Frankie, if he’d ever hated you. Breaking up because you love someone but it’s not enough is a pain you hope your daughter never has to experience.

He’s different now though.

You’re different.

It would be different, wouldn’t it?

Clara’s curled up, fast asleep in her bed. Soft snores sound as you place your book on the bedside table.

“Hey,” Frankie says softly as he shuts the bathroom door carefully. “She looks exhausted.”

“It’s all that time in the playgroup and sun,” you reply affectionately.

“Do you think she’s having a good holiday?”

“Yeah, of course. I hope so.”

“Me too. It’s good to see her happy like this. I’m glad we did this. For her.”

“Same. She’s going to look adorable at their wedding, isn’t she?”

“Yeah. Can’t believe it’s only a couple of days away and then we’re -”

“I know.” In two days, Lia and Benny get married. You won’t wreck it, you won’t.

You look at the bed, the pillow barrier Frankie has automatically built. Neither of you have spoken about the kiss before lunch. When you returned from the spa and got ready for dinner, you had spoken about Clara and your books and anything but the kiss.

The pillows feel wrong though. You remember the start of the week, how it felt secure to have the pillows between, mature even. You are grown ups, friends and exes and the pillows protected that. However, the barrier is a merely a representation of the line you obliterated earlier. It can’t work anymore.

You’re not just co-parents.

You don’t know if Frankie feels the same though, if too much has happened now for the two of you to forge something new.

The pillows are a weight though. You look at Frankie and hesitantly move one of the pillows away from the barrier.

He smiles, almost imperceptibly and then he does the same from his side of the bed.

With the lights out, there are still so many words unsaid, so many conversations the two of you need to have.

You turn in the bed, feeling the warmth radiating from Frankie’s back. You hear him shift, the rush of air as he turns around and he’s facing you.

“Hi,” he whispers, reaching a hand to touch your face.

“Hi,” you reply.

Perhaps that’s the only word you need right now. The two of you are starting all over again.

Tag List

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LGL tag-list: @morallyinept @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @beboldbebravethings@spishsstuff @bitchesuntitled@redcake333@missladym1981 @kungfucapslock @dinoflower-reads @kirsteng42 @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @casssiopeia @beboldbebravethings @devotedlyshybarbarian @emilyfarias16 @sageispunk @amyispxnk @lola8888673 @maryfanson @lu62 @ilovepedro@katw474@softstarlite@titlee78@aquanatalie @girlofchaos

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This is just ridiculous and makes me so sad. I’m so sorry @strang3lov3 that this is happening to you! Fuck this person. I tried being nice!

All of these comments, gone from your post, @ayadrafts. I've seen screenshots of peoples' messages with you where you just laugh in response to being called out, and part of me thinks that you’re probably just enjoying the negative attention. It’s why I’m hesitant to even make this post and satisfy that sick, sad need within you even more.

You don’t give a shit about writers or the hard work they put in to their stories and that’s pretty fucking disappointing. So this post is going up, and it’s staying up until you take the fic you stole from me down and apologize to me. Your lack of remorse is deeply concerning.

This was so good! The ending had me cracking up! Of course he would be sneaky like that, just wanted his chance! 🤣😂

Scandal

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x f!reader

Prompt: Forced Proximity + “You’re going to get us arrested” / “I always wanted to see you in handcuffs.”

Summary: You get locked in a closet with Dieter at the Oscars

Warnings: semi public smut; forced proximity; reader has hair that can have bobby pins in it, is able bodied, is wearing a dress, and is an actress; the barest hint of enemies to lovers, but not really. WC: 1.6k

A/N: Written for a Dieter Bravo Brainrot Server event. Thanks to @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin, @atinylittlepain, and @pr0ximamidnight for reading it for me <3

Dieter Bravo Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3 | Kofi

You just need to take a breather, that’s all. The Oscars can be a lot for an actress with social anxiety – there’s a million directors, former costars, and producers all vying for a conversation with you, not to mention the cameras catching you from every angle. And to make matters worse, they’ve allowed paparazzi into the lobby this year. 

There’s a coat closet just down this hallway, if you can just remember which door it is. You walk down the ornate hallway and find a door cracked open just slightly, the smell of weed emanating from the gap. You push the door open and step in, closing it tightly behind you. And you should have known from the smell alone who you’d find on the other side. 

None other than Dieter Bravo. 

“Shouldn’t have closed the door.” 

“And you shouldn’t be smoking in here. You’re stinking up everyone’s coats.”

“No, you really shouldn’t have closed the door. We’re locked in now.” 

“What?” Your voice hits a high frequency. You do not want to be locked in a closet with this particular former costar. You try the door anyway and find that he’s telling the truth. 

“I told you.” 

“Fuck, Dieter. You could have warned me!”

He chooses not to respond, taking another hit of his joint instead. He holds his hand out in offering, but you shake your head. Being high and trapped sounds like a recipe for paranoid disaster. 

You slump to the floor, pouting, but grateful they gave you a dress you can actually move around in this year. Dieter sits cross legged across the closet from you. There are coats lining either side of the walls. 

His usually fluffy curls are slicked back and styled to perfection. His nasty green bathrobe and pajama pants have been replaced by a billowing white shirt and fitted black pants. He’s even wearing real shoes. He looks… good. And he’s surprisingly clear eyed for someone smoking an entire joint. 

“You look nice,” Dieter comments. You look down at your dress – the color was chosen specifically to contrast well with your skin tone. The cut shows just enough bust and highlights your body shape. It’s a good dress. 

“Thanks, Dee. I was just thinking the same about you.”

“Oh were you now?” 

You roll your eyes. “Not like that, Dieter. You just clean up nice, is all.”

“I’m not um…” he trails off. 

“Not on coke anymore? I can tell.”

You and Dieter had worked on a project together a couple years ago. It was in the height of his coke addiction and working with him had been an absolute nightmare. He’d show up for work absolutely out of his mind, having screaming matches with the director, the producers, you. And that was if he showed up at all. The project had never even made it to production, leaving you worried your career was ruined. You fucking hated Dieter Bravo. 

But you could never deny how adorable he is. 

“Yeah. Cleaned up. Went to rehab. The whole shebang.”

“That’s good, Dee. Really.” 

You let your head fall back against the door, exposing the line of your throat to possibly the world's horniest man.

“You look really good in that dress.”

“I’m not going to have sex with you.”

You peek an eye open and see Dieter is already halfway across the floor, crawling to you on his hands and knees. He’s pouting at you. 

“What else do we have to do right now?”

You sigh and try the door one more time for good measure, reaching up behind you and tugging on the door handle. Still locked tight. Dieter grins and crawls even closer, settling between your thighs. He reaches out and strokes his thumb across your cheek. You can’t help but lean into it. 

“Always thought you were so beautiful.”

“Sure, Dee,” you scoff 

“I did. I do. Can I kiss you?” 

“Sure, Dee,” you whisper breathlessly. 

He presses his lips to yours gently at first. His lips are soft and plush against yours and you can’t help but deepen the kiss. You open your mouth and his tongue meets yours, hot and wet. Arousal sweeps through you and you bury your hands in his gorgeous curls, holding him against you. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his lap. You gasp, causing the kiss to break as your core comes into contact with the hard line of his cock in his trousers. 

“So fucking beautiful,” Dieter mutters into your throat, pressing kisses down into your cleavage. 

He lays you flat on the floor and scoots back, settling on his belly in between your thighs and rucking your dress up to your hips. 

“Dieter, you’re going to get us arrested for public indecency.”

“First of all, I’ve always wanted to see you in handcuffs,” he presses a kiss to your left thigh. “And secondly, I don’t see anyone here to catch us,” he kisses your right thigh, higher up this time. 

He hooks his thumb in the gusset of your panties, stroking your already soaked folds. You moan as quietly as you can. 

“So wet for me, already.” 

You groan as he pulls your panties to the side and buries his face in your cunt. There’s no build up, he eats you like he’s ravenous, like he hasn’t eaten in days. His curved nose grinds into your clit as he laps at your hole. His tongue plunges inside you over and over and you can already feel your core tightening. He slips two fingers in to replace his tongue, drawing circles on your clit with the point of it now. You cry out, much louder than you mean to be, than you need to be. His left hand comes up to cover your mouth, his face now hovering above yours as he curls his fingers perfectly inside you. 

“Quiet now, love. Wouldn’t want to get arrested for public indecency.”

The bastard. He thrusts his fingers into you a few more times and you’re coming all over his hand. You bite down on his palm to keep from screaming. He draws his fingers out of you slowly and rights your panties for you. He sucks your come off his fingers like it’s cake batter, letting out a little moan of his own at the taste. 

The door handle jiggles and you both freeze. Just as the lock turns, Dieter grabs you and rolls you both under the lowest level of coats on the side of the closet. You’re on top of him, breathing heavily into his neck. Someone comes in, grabs their coat, and leaves the room, pulling the door closed behind them. 

Dieter goes to roll you both back out but you stop him. You press a kiss to his very exposed throat. 

“I love this shirt. Very Mr. Darcy.”

“It is romantic isn’t it?” 

You drag your lips down his throat to his chest, pressing a kiss to the lowest bit of exposed skin. Your hands find the clasp on his fancy black pants, but you can’t quite get them open.

“The one time you don’t wear easy access pants…” 

“Here, let me.”

You both fumble for a moment before the clasp finally comes open and his cock springs out. 

“No underwear?”

“The lines were showing too bad.”

“Mmhmm,” you quirk an eyebrow at him. 

You wrap his cock in your hand. It’s long, curved a little, and not terribly thick. 

“Pretty,” you mutter before taking the tip in your mouth. He gasps as you suck him down. You swirl your tongue around his head, then flatten it out and let him fill your mouth. He hits the back of your throat and you suppress a cough, pushing him further down. His hands flutter into your hair as you start bobbing your head, sucking him down over and over again. He doesn’t push or pull you, simply rests his hands on the back of your head. 

You pull off him and lick a stripe up the seam of his balls as you stroke his cock. You suck one into your mouth, rolling it gently on your tongue, then switch to the other. 

“I’m gonna–”

You take his cock down your throat again, wanting to swallow his cum. You suck hard on the tip and then drop your lips down to the base as he comes in your mouth. His hips stutter beneath you and he groans. 

You let his softening cock fall out of your mouth and press a kiss to his hip bone. He strokes the back of your head reverently. 

“We should get cleaned up,” you whisper, your voice rough. 

Dieter sighs, but helps you get back to your feet. You take in his rumpled appearance and know you can’t look much better. His chest is covered in lipstick, as is his face. His hair is an absolute mess. His outfit is askew and wrinkled to hell. 

You help him fix his outfit, rub the lipstick off his skin, and finger comb his hair back into some semblance of a style. He pulls bobby pins out of your hair and stows them in his pockets, letting your hair down from the hours of work the stylist did. He smooths out your dress as best as he can. 

“We look…”

“Like we just fucked on the floor of a closet?”

“Yeah.”

He takes a bobby pin from his pocket and picks the lock on the door. 

“You could have done that the whole time?” 

Dieter doesn’t answer. He stands and takes your hand in his and pulls the door open. You’re immediately inundated with camera flashes. The paparazzi have found you. Your agent is going to kill you. 

“I fucking hate you,” you halfheartedly fuss at Dieter. This scandal will be fun to deal with... 

Ohhh!!! How did you know I’d wanna see something from Frankie and Mouse?! 😍🫠😍🫠

Beeeeef!!!!! I’m so proud of you for reaching 900 followers! You deserve it so much ❤️ You are so talented with the way you can word things, write the best chubby!Pboy, and I’m so glad that I’m getting know you better! 😍

Now! Show me something you’re working on!!! 🍳

I love how you meet my feral-ness and push for more. So glad we met, Deedle!

You wanna WIP? Lemme see what I have in in the ol' Test Kitchen... Ah yes! From deep in the cellar, we have a sample from something called: FM - WIP #15 - Vacay - CF&M... [i know.. i need to work on the title... but that's future kiki's problem]

Yours in sin,

Beefro👌🥩💜

When you and Frankie had agreed to completely letting him go wild on your all-inclusive two-week cruise, you couldn’t have imagined this. Not in your wildest dreams. It was the end of day two and Frankie was currently sitting back, leaning against the headboard of your king-sized bed, belly completely distended. For two days straight, he’d done nothing but eat at the buffet and bask in the sun, and it showed. His skin was a beautiful bronze, and his stomach was round and taut. “Mouse, baby… can you grab me a beer? I’m thirsty…”, he asked with a sheepish smile. You raised an eyebrow and crossed your arms in mock-irritation. “Oh? Can’t get it yourself?” He chuckled, his tummy bouncing a bit as he did, then he winced and rubbed his hands tenderly along his sides. “Baby… please…”, he whined. You smiled and grabbed a beer from the mini-fridge, walked over to the bed, and crawled onto what was available of his lap. You popped the lid off the beer and handed it to him, your hands then gently rubbing his very full tummy. “Feeling pretty full…”, you cooed as you applied gentle pressure to his tummy, under his belly button, and gave it a bit of a bounce. It didn’t move all that much.  “You sure you got room for a beer, Frankie? Belly’s feeling tight…” He took a drink and nodded with a grin. “Yeah… I got room. Didn’t eat that much.”