Joe Burrow Fic - Tumblr Posts

So fucking good I swear this shit was so good 😩 to be y/n

perfect - joe burrow

pairing: joe burrow x black!fem!reader

genre: smut, fluff

word count: 2.7k

content warnings: breeding kink, whisper of a daddy kink, unprotected sex, oral (fem receiving), fingering (fem receiving), they’re really in love

synopsis: joey just loves how perfect you are.

playlist: juno - sabrina carpenter

authors note: a hot, new joe burrow writer has entered the villa. hope u love it !! and if u like kpop u can check out my other works on @gojosnympho 🫶🏾

you didn’t go to a lot of joe’s away games. mainly because even though you were the girlfriend to a very rich and successful man, you were still a regular girl with a regular job and a regular life outside of him. you both preferred it that way, honestly. joe took comfort in the normalcy of you. being around you felt easy because you weren’t looking at him as joe burrow the quarterback of the cincinnati bengals. you were looking at him as joey, your boyfriend.

he came home monday night to the smell of you cooking dinner. he hadn’t even realized how hungry he was until the scent invaded his nostrils. he dropped his bags by the front door, promising himself that he’d get them later. the closer he got to the kitchen he could hear your sweet voice, very obviously singing along to whatever song was playing in your ears.

“how you let him cheat and take him back? must be your only nigga.” you rapped along with latto while you took the pan from the oven.

joe only watched you, taking in your comfy appearance. a tiny tank top, the shortest sleep shorts you could find, your bengals slippers, and of course a scarf on your head to protect your braids. his eyes were glued to your ass and the way the cheeks peeked out beneath the short fabric. you turned to see your boyfriend standing in the door of the kitchen, your heart leapt into your throat at the shock that ran through your body. you snatched your airpod out of your ear.

“god joey, you scared the fuck out of me!” you exclaimed. his heart fluttered at the name you called him, further proving his point of how you saw him.

“sorry, you just looked like you were locked in. i didn’t wanna disturb you.”

now that you were turned around, he saw just how tiny that tank top was. he could make out your brown nipples beneath the thin fabric and that fucking belly button ring with the diamond encrusted “j” dangling from it. his eyes trailed up to your face. that perfect, beautiful face that he had as his lock screen on his phone.

“it’s okay, baby boy! i cooked. are you hungry?” you asked him, not even aware of what you were doing to him. he didn’t know what it was about you but he felt like a teenager all over again because of the way he couldn’t control his body. he ignored his urges though, opting to give you a curt nod.

“starving,” joe replied.

“sit down then so i can make your plate.”

again, he nodded going to take a seat at the marble topped island in the middle of the kitchen. he watched you some more, his heart swelling once more with all the love he had for you. he didn’t think it was possible to love someone as much as he loved you. you sat his plate down in front of him and before you could walk away, joe pulled you into a kiss.

“what was that for?” you asked him when he pulled back.

“i love you,” joe said, his cheeks flushing that rosy pink color that made your heart melt.

“i love you too, joey.”

you walked away from him once more, this time to make your own plate. you were going to sit next to him but joe stopped you, “sit on my lap.”

he didn’t even give you a chance to answer before he was dragging your body onto his lap.

“isn’t this uncomfortable for you?” you asked joe who promptly shook his head no.

“is it uncomfortable for you?”

“no.”

“then relax and eat. i missed you, mama. i just wanna be around you,” he explained.

you talked some more while you ate dinner. you told joe all about what you got up to while he was away. he listened intently like he always did whenever you spoke to him.

“i miss you so much when i’m away. you gotta come with me to the next away game,” joe said with a hopeful tinge to his voice.

“okay!” you agreed, enthusiastically.

“you're so perfect,” he praised you. he placed a kiss atop your scarf-covered head.

once you both were settled for the night and about to get in bed, joe caught another glimpse of your nipples beneath your shirt. it reminded him of just how long he’d gone without being inside of you, three days. you crawled into bed next to the quarterback, none the wiser about the dirty thoughts swirling in his head. he pulled your body close to his so that you were pressed flush against his bare chest. the warmth of his body made you relax almost instantly. you missed him just as much when he was gone; even if it was just for a few days.

the cuddling started out innocently enough. you were both enjoying each other’s presence and warmth. joe absentmindedly began to stroke your arm with his deft fingers. you didn’t pay it any mind at first. you were just enjoying your boyfriend’s featherlight touches. he stopped those and used that hand to pull you in almost impossibly close. you gasped when you felt his erection poking you in the back.

“do you see what you do to me?”

“joey,” you breathed out.

“you’re so beautiful and so fucking perfect.”

he began to mouth kisses on your shoulder, his hand snaking around your neck to pull your head towards him so he could kiss you properly.

“been wanting to fuck you since i got home,” he admitted, his lips still against yours. he flipped you over on your back, his big frame on top of your much smaller one. “i’m so lucky to call you mine.”

joe put his lips against yours again, pushing his tongue past your lips to kiss you. it felt like he was replacing all the air in your lungs with his own. his hands began to trail over every part of your body making you ache with need. you could still feel how hard he was from where you laid beneath him.

“can i make you feel good, baby?” joe asked you, his lips ghosting against yours in a way that had every inch of your being begging for more.

“please,” you nodded.

he started to suck on the skin on your neck because he knew how much it made you squirm. once he was satisfied that he’d marked you up he began to kiss down your body. he pulled your tank top up and over your head and sucked in a breath at your exposed breasts. joe wasted no time sucking one of the stiff peaks into his mouth. you softly moaned at the sensation. no matter how many times you found yourself in this situation, joe playing with your body, you could never get enough. his other hand tweaked your unoccupied nipple drawing even more moans from your throat. your hands were planted firmly on his shoulders while you laid there in pure bliss. he let go of one nipple with an obscene pop and quickly found purchase on the other nipple. the cold air hitting your spit-slick nipple made goosebumps arise on your skin.

“let me see how wet you are,” joe grumbled. he kissed down your body to the waistband of your poor excuse for shorts. he tugged on them so you lifted up so he could pull them down your legs. “shit, no panties?” he asked when he realized the only thing that was shielding him from your pussy was the flimsy fabric.

“i knew you were coming home, joey,” you told the blue eyed man who was between your legs.

“yeah? you were ready for me?” he asked, using his finger tips to give the insides of your thighs those featherlight touches that made you ache.

“i’m always ready for you.”

joe felt his dick twitch in his boxers. he focused his attention back on your wet pussy. it was glistening with arousal. your clit swollen and begging to be touched. your little hole winking in anticipation. you whined at joe, wanting him to do something—anything. he kissed all around where you needed him the most; he was teasing you in the worst way possible. you whined again. this time pushing your hips up toward him hoping he’d finally eat you out. instead, he pinned your hips down to the mattress.

“relax,” joe said.

he moved his hands back between your legs. this time though, he used his calloused fingertips to spread your lips, “i know i say it all the time. but fuck baby, your pussy is so fucking pretty.”

your cheeks warmed at the dirty compliment. although you didn’t really get a chance to fully bask in it because he was pushing one of his long fingers inside of your pussy. your walls fluttered happily around it, sucking it in with urgency. he added another finger, scissoring you open for his dick. he brought his lips to your clit to give it a soft kiss and you felt electricity shoot through your body. he took the swollen bud between his lips, sucking on it. your hands went to push his head deeper into your needy pussy.

“that feels good, joey,” you hummed.

you grind your pussy all over his tongue, using his mouth to bring yourself to an orgasm. joe laid there pliantly, letting you use him because he loved the way you looked right now. he hooked his fingers inside of you, his mouth still busy pleasuring your clit. you whined out, your chest rising and falling in a quick pattern that made joe aware of how close you were to cumming.

“oh my fucking god!” you cried out. you dug your nails into your boyfriends shoulders as your orgasm came crashing down. you squeezed around his fingers as you creamed all over them.

you relaxed into the plush sheets of the bed, completely in awe of how quickly you had just come undone. you didn’t know why you were still in shock after all this time. joe knew your body. he knew what made you tick. what made you cum all over him with just a few measly pumps of his fingers and flicks of his tongue.

“taste yourself,” he said, bringing his cream-covered fingers to your lips. you opened your mouth and sucked his fingers clean, moaning at the heady taste of your cum.

“want your dick in me. please,” you begged him. you felt heat pooling in your stomach once more. you were ready to give him however many orgasms that he could coax out of you.

you tugged his briefs down until his dick flopped out. you couldn’t help but to moan at the sight of it. the tip was swollen and red with precum just pooling, waiting to be sucked off. you took one delicate finger and swiped the clear liquid off and promptly placed that same finger in your mouth. joe watched you with hooded eyes, his dick twitching with excitement. you wrapped your much smaller hand around him and began pumping him. you never broke eye contact with him while you jerked him off. you watched as he fell apart from your touch, his eyes glossed over in pure bliss

“that feel good, joey?” you asked him.

“you’re so fucking perfect,” he said for what felt like that millionth time tonight. but each time he said it you felt butterflies float around in your tummy.

“can you fuck me? i’ve been such a good girl,” you said. your voice was so soft and so pretty and so fucking submissive.

joe leaned down to capture your lips in a filthy kiss. he pushed your hand away from his dick, opting for his own to line up at your entrance. inch by inch he pushed into you causing you to gasp against his lips. you were sure you could feel him in your stomach and that feeling alone had tears prickling in the corners of your eyes. joe pulled away from your lips but not before giving you a gentle peck. he started off slow; he rolled his hips coaxing tiny gasps from you when you felt the tip of his dick rub against your sweet spot.

“you’re so tight, mama,” joe said.

“all for you, daddy,” you replied airily, already reeling from how good your boyfriend felt inside of you.

joe let a throaty moan spill past his lips at the nickname before speaking, “i’m gonna make you a mama tonight for real if you don’t chill out.”

“please,” you begged, squeezing around him. “we would make such a pretty baby, joey.”

he closed his eyes to compose himself because he was sure he was gonna break you if he didn’t. he rolled his hips again, knocking any other bratty comments out of your throat. he opened his eyes to see you below him. you looked fucked out: pupils blown wide, lips swollen, and a thin sheen of sweat. joe grabbed hold of your hips to anchor your body to the bed as he began to give you those strokes that had you crying out to him. joe looked down to where your bodies were so beautifully connected to marvel at the creamy ring that began to form.

“fuck…” he trailed, his eyes still transfixed on the obscene sight. “you missed me this much?” he teased you.

you could only give a small nod; you were so lost in the pleasure. but so was joe. his eyes were screwed tight at just how good you felt wrapped around him, so wet, tight, and warm. he fluttered his eyes back open though to look down at you.

“i love you so fucking much,” you told him, voice strained with lust. and fuck, he could’ve knocked you up right there. your big, brown, glossed-over eyes met his and the words that came out of your pretty, kiss-bitten lips next made him stop moving inside of you out of fear that he’d cum too early: “w-wanna have your baby.”

you whined at him. you started moving your own hips to get some type of friction but he stopped your movements.

“you’re gonna make me cum early if you don’t chill out,” joe explained to you. but his words meant nothing to you in that moment and you told him as much.

“but that’s what i want you to do, daddy,” you said. “want you to cum in me, please?” you pleaded with the man above you.

“shit,” he mumbled under his breath. he started moving again, this time he was pounding you. your eyes rolled into the back of your head because you could feel his tip bumping against that spot that was gonna make you cream all over his dick.

you couldn’t speak or even think for that matter. the only thing that mattered in that moment was joe. you wrapped your thighs around his waist, pulling him impossibly close just how he had done earlier. you gasped into his ear at how deep you could feel him inside of you. joe buried his face in your neck and nipped at your skin to add another hickey to the already blemished flesh. having sex with him was always like this, full of passion and unadulterated love.

“i love you so fucking much, too,” joe murmured into your neck, replying to your statement from earlier.

your orgasm began to sneak up on you. your tummy began to tingle and you could feel the way your walls started to flutter around joe’s dick. he groaned at the sensation, his hips stuttering when he felt it.

“you gonna cum, baby?” he asked you. you didn’t have to answer because the way you felt wrapped around him gave him all the confirmation he needed. “cum for me and i promise i’ll give you a baby.”

that’s all it took for you to let that band in your belly snap and your orgasm wash over you, “fuck, joey! fuck!” were the only words you could say as your walls spasmed around him. almost simultaneously, joe let his own orgasm take over. rope after rope of his seed filled you to the brim, making good on his promise to at least try to get you pregnant.

“you’re so fucking perfect.”

---

Y’Watchin’?

Summary: When your best friend stumbles upon your vibrator, he can't resist the temptation.

Contains/Warnings: NSFW Content, Begging, Degradation, Praising, Slight Humiliation Play, M!Masturbation, Usage of sex toy, Dom!reader, and more on top of this not being proofread (per usual) 

Pairings: Bsf sub!joe x soft(ish) dom!reader

Word count:  15,760

"What the fuck!" you scream, clutching your chest as your heart pounds like it’s about to burst. The adrenaline surge catches you off guard, making your voice echo through the apartment.

Joe, standing casually by your pantry, barely flinches. A low chuckle escapes his lips as he tosses an empty fruit snack box into the trash without a second thought. “I’m out of fruit snacks,” he says with an exaggerated pout, like it’s the most tragic news in the world. He tears open the last remaining pack and pops a few into his mouth, completely unfazed by your outburst.

You stomp over, eyes wide with disbelief, staring at the culprit responsible for the sudden fruit snack famine. “You ate all of my fruit snacks?!” you gasp, snatching the pouch from his hand. Without hesitation, you steal two gummy pieces, savoring your small victory.

Joe doesn’t even miss a beat. He swiftly snatches the pack back, holding it close to his chest as if guarding some priceless treasure, his eyes narrowing playfully. 

"How long have you been here?" you demanded, arms crossed as you stared him down.

“’Bout 20 minutes,” he replied, completely unbothered.

Throwing your hands in the air in defeat, you let them fall back down, smacking your thighs with a soft thud. “I’m seriously regretting giving you a key to my apartment,” you huff, staring him down.

He snickers, the corners of his mouth curling into a cocky smirk. “Why? I’m a pleasure to be around,” he says, his tone dripping with self-assurance.

You roll your eyes, gesturing to the now-empty pantry shelves. “My empty pantry says otherwise, Joseph.”

“That’s not my fault. You suck at buying groceries,” he shrugs, leaning casually against the counter, as though this entire conversation is a minor inconvenience to his snack-thieving agenda.

Your jaw drops in mock offense, a small chuckle slipping through despite your frustration. “I went grocery shopping earlier this week! You keep coming over and eating all of my food!” You cross your arms, staring at him as if daring him to deny it.

Joe, ever the picture of innocence, shakes his head as he tosses the empty fruit snack wrapper into the trash. He opens the pantry door once more, scanning the barren shelves. “I had no part in your wild accusations,” he says with a straight face, though the mischievous glint in his eyes gives him away completely.

You roll your eyes so hard it’s almost instinctual at this point. The frustration practically simmers off of you, and you can’t help it. But Joe, standing there with his smug grin and that devil-may-care attitude, notices immediately.

“Jesus, Y/N,” he drawls, “Careful, your damn eyes are gonna roll right outta your head if you keep that up.” His voice is laced with sarcasm, yet there’s a teasing warmth to it that you’ve come to know all too well. It’s infuriating and endearing in equal measure.

You can’t suppress the laugh that bubbles up from your chest. It’s soft, begrudging, but you let it out, your lips curving ever so slightly at the corners despite yourself. He’s good at this—getting under your skin just enough to annoy you, but never enough to actually make you mad.

Your gaze follows him, this time, he grabs a granola bar—your granola bar, one of your favorites. With zero hesitation, he’s about to tear the wrapper open, nonchalant as ever.

Without thinking, you lunge forward and smack the granola bar clean out of his hand. It sails through the air in a dramatic arc, landing halfway across the kitchen with a light thud.

Joe freezes for a split second, staring at the spot where the bar once was, then at you, utterly dumbfounded. “What the fuck?!” His voice is an octave higher, genuine disbelief crossing his features as if you’ve committed the greatest crime of the century.

“Quit eating my shit!” you snap, your eyes narrowed, but there’s a playful edge to your tone that matches the adrenaline from your swift, victorious strike. You cross your arms over your chest, standing your ground as if daring him to pick up something else.

You catch the faintest glimmer of amusement in his eyes. His lips curl into a grin as he steps back, hands raised in surrender, though the mischief in his eyes betrays any pretense of apology.

"Alright, alright," he says, backing off with a chuckle. "But that was uncalled for."

“That was uncalled for,” you mock, imitating Joe’s deep voice with exaggerated sarcasm as you glare at him. “Make yourself useful while you’re here—eating all my food—and take out the trash.”

Joe, ever the opportunist, begins to backpedal, holding his hands up in mock protest. “Ah, see, I actually have this thing...” he starts, inching away slowly, his eyes darting to the door like he's planning a great escape.

But you're quicker. In one swift motion, you grab the back of his shirt, tugging him back toward you with a firm grip. “Joseph,” you warn, your voice low and threatening, but with an undeniable smirk tugging at your lips.

He freezes, groaning dramatically before throwing his hands up in surrender. “Fine! Okay! Geez, you sound just like my mom,” he mutters, the words dripping with playful annoyance.

You smirk, victorious, watching as he reluctantly grabs the trash bag from the can. “Good,” you say, crossing your arms as you lean against the counter, savoring the moment. “I love Robin.”

At the mention of his mom, Joe doesn’t even try to hide his smile. His eyes soften a little, and a chuckle slips past his lips as he ties up the bag. There’s a warmth in the air whenever you bring her up, and you both know why.

You and Joe have always been close. Ever since you met in high school, the two of you have been practically inseparable. Your bond was effortless, like family from the start. Robin welcomed you with open arms from the very first day Joe introduced you to her, and she never missed a chance to remind him how lucky he was to have you as a friend.

In fact, she still asks about you in her daily phone calls with Joe, her voice lighting up whenever your name comes up, always making sure you’re doing well. You know she adores you, and she’s always inviting you to family gatherings, making sure there’s a seat for you at every holiday or event.

Of course, she can’t help herself from trying to push you and Joe toward something more than friendship. Whether it’s subtle nudges or outright teasing, Robin has been on a mission to encourage one of you to make a move. It’s become a running joke between you and Joe, her ever-persistent matchmaking attempts.

Flashback

“Y/N, honey, taste this and tell me what it’s missing,” Robin calls, holding out a spoon filled with some kind of savory liquid. Her eyes are expectant, as always, eager for feedback. You take the spoon, blow gently to cool it down, and sip. The flavors hit your tongue, and your eyebrows shoot up in genuine surprise.

“Robin, that’s delicious—”

“No, no,” she interrupts, shaking her head with a firm wave of her hand. “Be honest. I know you’re a little chef at heart, so tell me. What is it missing?” Her voice carries that warm, encouraging tone, one that always makes you feel at home in her kitchen.

You can’t help but chuckle, setting the spoon down as you think for a moment. After a brief glance at the spice cabinet, you nod knowingly, reaching for the onion powder. “Half a tablespoon of this, and I think it’ll be perfect,” you say, holding it up.

Robin smiles with a glint of pride in her eyes, as if she expected nothing less. “Good call,” she says, sprinkling the onion powder into the pot. She stirs it a few times, then takes a taste herself. The moment the flavor hits her palate, her face lights up. “God, you’re good,” she praises, her admiration evident.

You grin, pleased with the compliment, and turn back to the cutting board, resuming your task of dicing onions. As your knife moves rhythmically, Robin, ever the master of multitasking, throws in a comment over her shoulder. “You would make the perfect wife, Y/N, with your cooking skills and all.”

Your chopping falters for just a second as you feel her words hang in the air. Glancing up, you catch Robin’s sly look, her eyes deliberately sweeping up and down as Joe walks into the kitchen. She’s stirring the pot both literally and figuratively, and it’s clear where this is going.

“She is a pretty good cook,” Joe remarks nonchalantly, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge. He’s oblivious, at least for now, to the direction his mom’s conversation is headed.

Robin doesn’t miss a beat. “Get on it, Joey,” she quips, continuing to stir. “Get on what?” Joe asks, cracking open the water bottle, not quite catching her drift yet.

With a subtle nod toward you, Robin makes her point crystal clear. “Wifing her up!” she declares, her tone half-teasing, half-serious.

Joe’s reaction is immediate—his eyes widen, and a flush of red creeps up his cheeks. His usual cool demeanor cracks under the weight of his mom’s unsubtle matchmaking. “Mom,” he groans, his voice a mix of embarrassment and exasperation, as if he’s used to this kind of thing but never quite prepared for it.

“Gotta be a girlfriend before a wife, Mom,” Joe mutters, trying to keep his cool, though his flustered expression betrays him.

“Exactly!” Robin counters, as if that only strengthens her argument. “You’re a step behind, and you need to catch up!” She waves her spoon like it’s a magic wand, the whole exchange unfolding with a playful ease that only comes from years of familiarity.

You can’t help it—a loud, uncontrollable laugh bursts out of you, and you quickly cover your mouth with your hand, trying to stifle the sound. Joe shoots you a look, his expression caught somewhere between annoyance and amusement. “Mom,” he says again, more firmly this time, his embarrassment only growing.

Robin, unfazed, shrugs innocently, as if her comment was the most normal thing in the world. “What? I’m just saying,” she adds, her voice full of that mischievous innocence only a mom can pull off, leaving Joe helpless in the wake of her casual matchmaking.

The kitchen hums with warmth and laughter, a comfortable rhythm you’ve all fallen into over the years. Robin’s meddling may be predictable, but it’s always done with love, a reminder of just how close you and Joe have become.

Another Flashback

Your face was streaked with tears—happy tears, tears of disbelief and overwhelming pride. You stood in the lobby, your heart pounding in sync with the excitement of the moment. Robin and Jim were beside you, the three of you forming a small circle as you waited for Joe to come out, Heisman Trophy in hand. Every time the lobby door opened, you felt a surge of anticipation, your mind still spinning from his emotional acceptance speech.

As Joe had spoken on that stage, your thoughts drifted back to when you both first met in high school. You remembered how he’d come to you, tears in his eyes, behind closed doors, feeling like he was trapped in a shadow, thinking he wasn’t good enough. No college wanted him as a starting quarterback, and he felt lost, disheartened, doubting his future. You were there for every moment of that uncertainty, staying up late together, combing through endless lists of colleges, helping him fill out applications, hoping someone would see the potential in him that you always had.

There were those weeks—weeks where you held him, comforting him as he broke down, his dreams feeling just out of reach. You could still hear the anguish in his voice when he told you how conflicted he was about leaving Ohio State. He knew in his heart he needed to go, but the fear of failure was gripping. The memory of your last conversation before he packed up his car and drove off flashed through your mind—his nerves were palpable, and he tried to talk himself out of leaving, out of taking that leap, but you wouldn’t let him. You wouldn't let him give up. He had pulled you into a tight hug, burying his face in the crook of your neck, holding on as if it would be the last time. You could feel the weight of that moment as if it was happening again—the way he looked at you when you finally pulled apart, the unspoken acknowledgment that this was goodbye, and that you’d soon be miles apart when he gets to LSU.

All of those memories, vivid and raw, flooded your mind, only to fade when you saw him. Joe walked through the door, beaming with that familiar pearly smile, clutching his Heisman Trophy. The pride radiated off of him, his confidence finally matching the talent you always knew he had. Robin and Jim rushed forward, embracing him in a tight hug, congratulating him, their words full of love and pride.

You stayed back for a moment, letting his parents have their time with him. Your chest felt tight with emotion as you watched them—this was his family, the people who’d seen every part of his journey, just as you had. But then Joe turned toward you, his eyes softening as they met yours. Without hesitation, he pulled you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you with such familiarity, as if no time had passed since you’d last been this close. As he leaned in, his lips brushed your ear, and he whispered in a voice that sent a shiver down your spine, “Missed you, Bub.”

Your heart clenched at the nickname—Bub—the one you hadn’t heard from his lips in so long. It brought you back to the countless moments you'd shared, the times he leaned on you, trusted you, depended on you. And here he was again, with everything he had worked so hard for finally in his hands, but still grounded in that connection with you.

Before you could say anything, Robin’s voice broke the moment. “Okay, okay! Let’s get a picture of you two!” She was already holding up her phone, her face full of excitement. “Smile!” she called out, waving the phone around as if to capture the perfect moment.

You and Joe turned to face her, and without thinking, his hand found its way to the small of your back, the warmth of his palm sending a comforting spark through you. You placed your hand on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath, both of you giving Robin a proud, shared smile.

“Cute! Okay, now kiss!” Robin added playfully, her tone light but her eyes twinkling with mischief.

Both you and Joe froze, your bodies stiffening as the words hung in the air. Your eyes locked with his, wide with shock, and for a brief second, neither of you moved. The tension was palpable, and your heart raced for reasons entirely different from before. Robin’s suggestion hung there, awkward and unspoken, until Jim quickly intervened.

“Quit embarrassing the kid!” Jim chuckled, shaking his head. “He just won a Heisman Trophy, and you’re still trying to push them into—”

Robin cut him off, waving him away. “Okay, okay! I’ll stop, I’ll stop!” she said, though the laughter in her voice hinted she wasn’t entirely sorry.

The moment broke, and you, Joe, and his parents all burst into laughter, though yours and Joe’s carried a hint of hesitation. The tension still lingered between you two, the weight of Robin’s playful words leaving an unspoken question in the air. You exchanged one last glance with Joe, a flicker of conflict passing between you, before the laughter pulled you both back into the warmth of the celebration.

Flashbacks Over

“Where are you going? I’m just supposed to stay here? All by my lonesome?” Joe’s dramatic voice pulled you out of your thoughts, his exaggerated pout impossible to ignore. You blinked, glancing down at yourself—fresh out of the shower, hair styled, light makeup done. You weren’t dressed up, just a simple outfit of jeans and a casual top, but it was definitely a step up from your usual sweatpants and oversized hoodie combo.

“Maybe if you had bothered to tell me you were coming over, I could’ve planned around it,” you said, sarcasm lacing your words. “But I’ve got a nail appointment at the new salon down the street. I’ve been dying to check it out.”

Joe nodded, his expression softening a little as he dug into his pocket, fishing around for a few seconds before pulling out a crisp hundred-dollar bill. He extended it toward you without hesitation.

“Here,” he said, holding it out with an air of casual insistence.

You frowned slightly, shaking your head. “I can pay for my own nails, Joe–”

“When do I ever let you pay for anything, Y/N?” he cut you off, his tone firm but playful. He wiggled the bill in front of your face, daring you to argue. “Take the cash.”

You let out an exaggerated huff, knowing full well there was no point in fighting him on this. It was a battle you’d never win. Joe was stubborn, especially when it came to taking care of you in these small, insistent ways. With a resigned sigh, you plucked the money from his hand, knowing it would only drag out the inevitable if you didn’t.

“Thank you,” you said, and despite the mock frustration in your voice, the gratitude was real. You had to admit, it was sweet how Joe always took care of the little things for you, even when you didn’t ask him to.

He turned and grabbed the full trash bag, heading for the front door. But just as his hand reached the doorknob, he paused and glanced over his shoulder, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Oh! And pick up some more fruit snacks on your way back.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you slipped on your shoes, “You can’t go get them yourself?”

“Pshh, no,” he scoffed, tossing the trash bag over his shoulder with a smirk. “I’ll be right here, taking a nap in that pretty pink bed of yours.”

You wrinkled your nose at the thought, rolling your eyes. “Gross, you’re gonna make my sheets smell like boy.”

He snorted, clearly amused by your playful jab. “Correction, like man,” he said with a wink before finally heading out the door, leaving you shaking your head and smiling to yourself as you grabbed your keys, ready to head to your appointment.

JOE'S POV

I was supposed to be taking a nap. I swear, that was the plan—crash on her bed, and relax until she got back. 

But as I tossed the blankets aside, something fell out from under them, catching my eye instantly. And now, here I was, sitting on the edge of her bed, staring at a baby pink vibrator in my hand—sleep was the last thing on my mind.

“Holy... shit,” I breathed out, my voice a low rasp, fingers frozen around the smooth, silicone surface. I couldn’t even wrap my head around it—her vibrator. Y/N’s vibrator. The girl I’ve known for years, my best friend, who I’ve seen in every light possible, and now… now I couldn’t stop imagining her in a way I never should.

Hell, I’d always caught myself thinking about her like that—ever since high school when we’d grown inseparable. She was always there for me, pushing me, supporting me, and over time, the attraction started creeping in, no matter how hard I tried to fight it.

And it didn’t help when my mom, with her usual nosy persistence, would drop hints about us being more than friends. “You two are perfect for each other,” she’d say, with that knowing smirk, pushing Joe and Y/N this, Joe and Y/N that. She’d talk about how we were practically made for each other, how I needed to ‘wife her up.’ I’d laugh it off, make some stupid joke, but deep down, I knew it wasn’t just teasing. I’d caught myself thinking the same thing more than I’d ever admit out loud.

There were times I flirted with her—pushed the boundaries of what “just friends” really meant. But I always played it off as teasing because the last thing I wanted was to make her uncomfortable. Or worse, make things weird between us. But now, with this vibrator in my hand, those thoughts weren’t so easy to brush off.

I swallowed hard, my pulse speeding up, my gaze glued to the thing in my hand. My thumb absentmindedly traced the ridges, feeling the softness, the subtle curves designed for pleasure, and I could barely stop myself from picturing what it must feel like pressed against her skin. What it would do to her. The image crashed into my mind with vivid, unforgiving clarity—her, lying in this exact bed, her body trembling as she slid this between her slick folds, her lips parted, eyes closed. Goddamn. This was bad.

My breath hitched as heat rushed through my veins, and I felt myself getting hard, the tightness in my jeans suddenly impossible to ignore. But I couldn’t stop. I should stop, I needed to, but my brain was betraying me, filling in the blanks with every fantasy I shouldn’t be having.

I could see her so clearly in my mind—sprawled out beneath these blankets, her hair messy, her skin flushed, using this vibrator to push herself closer and closer to the edge. I imagined the way her back would arch, how her hips would grind against it, how she’d grip the sheets when she came. My stomach twisted with arousal, the thoughts pulling me under like a goddamn riptide, no way to escape.

I shifted, trying to adjust the pressure growing against my jeans, but nothing helped. My body was reacting to every vivid detail I imagined, and I couldn’t stop thinking about how often she used this, how good it must feel to her, how she’d moan when the pleasure hit just right.

I shouldn’t know these things. I shouldn’t be picturing them. But fuck, I couldn’t help it. Y/N wasn’t just any girl—she was my best friend. The girl I’d spent countless nights with, sitting up late, talking about everything under the sun. The girl I’d laughed with, shared secrets with, who knew me better than anyone. And now, she was the girl I couldn’t stop imagining writhing in her bed, desperate and needy, with this damn vibrator between her legs.

I clenched the vibrator tighter, my thumb brushing over the button almost without thinking. The low hum of the motor vibrated against my palm as I turned it on, the sound soft but insistent. My breath caught in my throat as I clicked through the settings, watching the strength of the vibrations change with each press. It started slow, a gentle buzz, but quickly ramped up, the power of it vibrating through my hand with a force I hadn’t expected.

Jesus Christ. She uses this?

The vibrator shook with intensity, each setting stronger than the last, and I couldn’t stop myself from imagining how it must feel against her. The thought of her gasping, biting her lip, her body trembling as she let the vibrations push her closer to the edge—it had me aching. I imagined her fingers gripping the sheets, her back arching as she chased that release, the way her thighs would tremble as the vibrations sent shockwaves through her body.

Fuck, it was driving me insane.

My free hand balled into a fist, my nails digging into my palm as I tried to control the flood of heat coursing through me. But no matter what I did, I couldn’t stop thinking about it—about her. 

I couldn’t stop the rush of questions, no matter how hard I tried. They hit me all at once, relentless and intrusive, dragging me into thoughts I knew I shouldn't be having.

What does she sound like when she comes?

I tried to push it away, but the thought lingered. Does she let out soft, breathy moans, or does she get loud, unable to hold back? Does her body tremble, her breath catching in her throat as she tips over the edge?

Does she tease herself?

I can’t help but picture her taking her time, dragging out every touch just to see how long she can last. Or maybe she’s too needy, too desperate to edge herself.

What does she think about when she's alone like that?

I couldn’t stop myself from imagining it, her mind wandering, her body craving release. Does she picture something specific, a fantasy she’s kept locked away? Or...

Who does she think about?

That thought stung in a way I didn’t expect. I hated that I wanted it to be me, hated that the idea of someone else crossed my mind at all. Is it someone else? The thought crawled under my skin, making me tense up, imagining her lost in the thought of someone else's touch.

Does she watch anything?

I couldn’t help but wonder if she ever turns something on, watching it play out in front of her, her eyes dark with desire as she loses herself in it. I wonder if she imagines herself in the scene, or even— someone else.

I felt my chest tighten, heat rising in my body as the questions raced faster, and I hated that I wanted the answers so badly.

A groan slipped from my throat, and I clenched my jaw, trying to shove the thoughts away, to stop this before it went any further. But then another thought crept in, darker, more dangerous—what if I was the one doing this to her? What if it wasn’t just the vibrator in her hand but mine? 

What if? My fingers sliding into her, feeling her tighten around them as I press deeper, finding every sensitive spot. The thought of her slick coating my fingers sent a jolt through me, imagining how she’d arch her back, her body responding to every deliberate pump. I could see it so clearly — my hand working at a steady rhythm, coaxing her closer and closer to the edge, her breath hitching as I push her further.

And then, the other hand — holding that pretty pink vibrator against her swollen clit, pressing it down just right. I imagined her trembling beneath me, unable to hold still, her hips bucking against the sensation. God, the way she’d react.Her head tossing back, her hair falling in wild waves as she gasps for air, lips parted in helpless moans. I could almost hear her, breathy and desperate, my name slipping from her mouth in that way that would drive me insane.

The thought made me rock-hard, my cock straining painfully against my jeans. Goddamn it. This was wrong—so fucking wrong. She was my best friend. I wasn’t supposed to think about her like this, not even close. But the more I tried to push it away, the more vivid the images became.

I couldn’t help myself. My thumb flicked through the settings again, the vibrations intensifying to a level that had me wondering how she could handle it. Did she squirm? When was the last time she used it? How hard did she come the last time she used it?

I craved to know every detail.

My mind was spiraling, and I knew I had to stop before I went too far. But every time I thought about turning the vibrator off, I couldn’t help but wonder what it’d be like to watch her use it, to see her body tremble, to hear those soft little gasps as she fell apart.

I finally snapped the vibrator off, my heart pounding in my chest as I set it down on the nightstand, my fingers shaking slightly. My head was spinning, my cock still hard, and I knew there was no way I could suppress these feelings now; they were consuming me entirely.

Fuck, I was in trouble.

I placed the vibrator on the nightstand, its vibrant color almost glowing in the dim light of the room, a silent reminder of the sensations I had just experienced. My elbows rested heavily on my knees, and I found myself unable to tear my gaze away from it. Thoughts whirled in my mind, each one more tantalizing than the last, as I replayed the moments that had just unfolded. The room felt charged, the air thick with unspoken desire, and I couldn't help but feel the heat creeping up my neck.

Just then, my phone chimed, the sudden sound jolting me out of my reverie. My heart raced again, but this time it was for a different reason. I glanced at the screen and saw Y/N's name flash brightly. Curiosity piqued, I opened the message, and my breath caught in my throat. She had sent me a picture of two different shades of nail polish, each bottle glistening under the light, their colors vibrant and inviting.

Underneath the image, she had typed, “What color should I do?”

A warm rush swept through me as I imagined her deliberating over these choices, her brow furrowed in concentration. I could picture her holding the bottles up to the light, her lips slightly pursed as she considered which shade would complement her perfectly. The thought of her meticulously deciding on something so seemingly simple made my chest tighten with affection and desire.

I glanced back at the vibrator, then back at the picture, the contrast between the playful question and the intensity of my earlier thoughts causing a rush of conflicting emotions. I smiled to myself, feeling a flutter in my stomach as I contemplated my response, the air around me thick with possibilities.

The color options she sent were light blue and olive green, both pretty but unassuming. My eyes drifted over the screen, flickering between the nail polish colors and then, as if by instinct, back to the vibrator sitting innocently on her nightstand. My fingers hovered over the phone, but my thoughts were miles away. That damn vibrator, pink and playful, teasing me with the memories of how strong it had buzzed in my hand. I felt a rush of heat again, remembering how it had pulsed, imagining her using it, lost in her own pleasure.

I couldn't help but smirk to myself, the corner of my mouth curling up as an idea sparked in my head. Without thinking, I glanced between the photo and the nightstand one more time, as if seeking confirmation from the toy that had somehow turned my thoughts upside down.

With a mischievous grin, I started typing a response. “Neither,” I typed slowly, each letter fueling my wicked little idea. “Do baby pink.”

My thumb hovered over the send button for just a moment, my smirk deepening as I pictured her reaction. Baby pink—the same color as the vibrator she had tucked away, completely unaware that it was no longer her secret. My heart raced as I hit send, anticipation buzzing just beneath my skin.

My phone chimed again, and her response lit up the screen. "Like this?" she asked, attaching a picture of another nail polish bottle—a soft, delicate baby pink. The exact shade of the vibrator. My chest tightened as I stared at the image, my mind immediately drawing a connection that I tried so hard to resist.

"Perfect," I typed back, the simple word betraying nothing of the chaos inside me. But no matter how hard I tried, the intrusive vision pushed its way forward—her holding that baby pink vibrator against her clit, her freshly painted nails matching the color, trembling as she got closer to the edge. The thought of it alone made my stomach twist in knots, heat flooding every part of me.

I gritted my teeth, palming myself through my jeans, hoping—begging—for any sort of relief. But it was useless. Every thought, every image made it worse. My mind was on fire, replaying the fantasy of her using that toy, moaning, gasping... coming.

I couldn’t let this keep building. I needed this feeling to go away, to be completely gone before she came back. She couldn’t know—couldn’t even suspect—what I’d been doing while she was away, what I found, what I’d been thinking about. My heart raced at the thought of her walking through that door, oblivious to the mess I’d gotten myself into.

I had to pull it together. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the thoughts away, trying to get myself under control. I just needed to calm down. I’d stick to the plan. Take a nap—at least that’s what I’d tell her. I napped while she was gone. That’s it. Just like I had originally planned.

I shoved the pretty pink vibrator under the pillow, trying to hide it from view—and from my thoughts. My heart pounded in my chest as I lay down, pressing my head against the pillow, hoping the soft fabric would somehow block out the vivid images swirling in my mind. I closed my eyes, determined to take the nap I had planned, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shut off the reel playing behind my eyelids.

The images were too real, too intense. Every time I tried to push them away, they came back stronger.

In my mind, y/n was sprawled out on the bed, her body glistening with a fine sheen of sweat, her lips parted in a breathy moan. “Oh—fuck,” she gasped, her hips lifting off the bed as she ground herself harder against the buzzing toy. The squelching sounds of her slick arousal echoed in my ears, the image so vivid it felt like I could reach out and touch her. The toy—long, sleek, and buzzing—slid between her puffy folds, glistening as she pumped it back and forth, before finally focusing it on her swollen clit. The way her body reacted, the way she moved, it was as if I was there, watching every trembling moment of her ecstasy.

My breath hitched.

Her voice—soft but needy—filled my mind. “Y’wanna help, Joey? Hmm? Wanna help me cum?” Her voice was dripping with seduction, teasing me in ways I’d never imagined before. Her eyes were locked on mine in my fantasy, full of lust, full of want.

I shook my head, trying desperately to banish the thoughts that were creeping further into dangerous territory. My hands flew to my face, rubbing at my eyes as if that would somehow erase the images. I was losing control, and I knew it.

"Stop," I muttered to myself, as if saying it out loud would put an end to the fantasies that had overtaken my mind.

But the truth was, I’d unlocked something. A part of me that had always been there, lurking beneath the surface. 

“Y’watchin'?” Her voice was breathless, a whisper laced with desperation that seemed to echo in my mind. I couldn’t tear my eyes away, not even if I wanted to. Her body quivered, trembling as her legs struggled to hold her up, the vibrator in her hand sending shivers through her. Every muscle in her body was tense, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. Her eyes were locked on mine—dark, wild, and filled with need. She looked like she was barely holding on.

"Gonna—fuck—gonna cum," she moaned, her words shaky and broken, her hips jerking up as her body bucked. She tossed her head back, her neck arched as she gasped for air. But it didn’t last long; her gaze was back on me, intense and full of hunger. Her lips parted, her breathing erratic. "Guess—guess what m’thinkin' 'bout, Joey."

I shook my head, forcing myself to snap out of it, but I couldn’t. No, this wasn’t happening. This was wrong on so many levels, but the fantasy had its hooks in me. The sight of her like this, in my head, was too much. My heart pounded, my body betraying me.

"You," she whimpered, her voice hitting that pitch that sent a shockwave through me, straight to the throbbing ache between my legs. She was teasing me, her words a soft, tantalizing torture. "Wish you’d touch me. M’so close just thinkin' 'bout it," she panted, her hips rolling with need. Her skin glistened with a thin sheen of sweat, her body practically begging to be touched. Her moans grew louder, higher, her breath catching in her throat as she neared her release.

"Oh—shhh-it!" she cried out, the sound tearing from her throat as her body shook with release. Her legs gave out, her head thrown back as the waves of pleasure crashed over her, leaving her breathless and spent.

"Oh shittt," I groaned, the sound of her moaning my name echoing in my head, pulling me deeper into the fantasy. My eyes flew open, and I gasped, finding my hand had slipped beneath my waistband, palming the hard length of my cock through my boxer briefs. My hips were moving on their own, grinding against my hand, chasing the relief I so desperately needed.

The heat pooling in my stomach was unbearable, spreading like wildfire through my veins. I was hard—so fucking hard—and all I could think about was her. How she would look, sprawled out on her bed, her body trembling with aftershocks as she came. Her nails, painted that same baby pink, gripping the sheets, maybe even clutching my hair if I were there, pulling me closer, begging me to—

Fuck. I was spiraling, my chest tight, my breathing ragged. I was grinding my hips, my cock twitching with every pulse of my heartbeat, aching for more friction, more contact. My hand wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. I was lost in this fantasy of her, and I couldn’t escape it. I needed to stop, but it felt so good, the images so vivid, her voice so real in my mind.

I could feel the wet spot growing in my briefs, my precum seeping through the fabric, and the realization hit me like a ton of bricks. What the hell was I doing? I was in disbelief at how far I'd let this go, how I’d allowed myself to get this worked up. I was actually touching myself to thoughts of her—my best friend—my hands shaking with desire. It felt wrong, but the throbbing in my cock made it so hard to stop.

The rhythmic palming came to an abrupt halt when I heard my name being called, a soft voice pulling me back to reality. “Joeyyy! You still napping?” she called out, her voice getting closer to the bedroom. The bedroom I was in, touching myself to the thought of her. My heart dropped, panic coursing through me as I yanked my hand away, scrambling to sit up. My mind raced, trying to make sense of the situation. I grabbed the nearest blanket and threw it over my lap, desperately trying to hide the obvious bulge beneath it. Just in time.

The door creaked open, and there she was, standing there, all innocent smiles and energy. “Oh, you’re awake. Lookie!” she chimed, skipping over to the bed. She jumped onto it without a second thought, plopping down next to me, completely unaware of the mess I was in. My breath hitched as I watched her, my heart pounding in my chest. Her nails were painted a soft, familiar pink—the same baby pink I had suggested, the same pink as the vibrator I’d just been fantasizing about.

Fuck. The way her eyes lit up... It reminded me of how I imagined they would look when she—

“They look great, Bub, love ’em,” I forced out, the words tumbling from my mouth like a reflex. My voice was shaky, barely hiding the storm inside me.

She nodded, a proud smile spreading across her face. “Thank you for paying, per usual,” she said, leaning in to place a quick, innocent peck on my cheek. The simple touch sent a jolt straight through me. My cock throbbed—so hard that it felt like my body was betraying me. My eyes widened at the sensation, and she noticed.

“Joe?” Her voice was soft now, a mix of concern and confusion. “What’s wrong?”

I shook my head, trying to gather myself, to mask the chaos inside me. “N-nothing, just didn’t think you’d be back so soon,” I mumbled, my voice tight. Too tight.

She nodded, looking down at her nails. “Since I had an appointment, I didn’t have to wait. It was nice. The lady who did them was fast and efficient too. Oh! And the bathrooms had a—” Her voice became background noise as my attention drifted. I wasn’t listening.

My eyes trailed down her chest, the way her top shifted ever so slightly as she leaned in. Her curves... the way her thighs fanned out across the bed... fuck, I was losing it. Every part of her looked so soft, so tempting. I was in deep shit.

“Joe?” Her voice snapped me back, breaking through my haze.

“Yeah?” I responded, a little too quickly.

“Did you take that nap? You seem super out of it.” Her eyes were curious, genuine.

I couldn’t tell her the truth. That I’d planned to nap but instead found her vibrator and couldn’t stop imagining how she might taste, how her nails would look gripping my hair while she came.

“I tried,” I lied, swallowing hard. “But I couldn’t fall asleep.”

She yawned, stretching her arms out in that lazy, comfortable way she always did. “Well, I’m kinda tired myself. Wanna watch our show and lay down?” she asked, her voice soft and familiar. Our show. Lay down. It was something we’d done a hundred times, maybe more. We’d cuddle, but it was always just friendly, nothing more than that—so innocent. We’d nap together, curled up on the couch or in bed, not a care in the world. But tonight? It felt different, and I was terrified of what was happening in my head.

I nodded, forcing a smile. She smiled back, that bright, genuine smile that always made me feel like I was doing something right. I can’t fuck this up. My mind was racing, desperately trying to push away the thoughts, the feelings I couldn’t shake. Think of your dead cat, Joe, I told myself. Think about anything—anything—to get this hard-on to go away.

“Scooch! I want my spot,” she said, nudging me playfully as she shoved me over, her small hands pushing at my side.

I moved, giving her the space she wanted, even though my body felt tense, too aware of her presence beside me. She was now laying on the pillow that not-so-secretly hid her vibrator, the very thing that had stirred up all these messed-up thoughts in the first place. The irony wasn’t lost on me, but I couldn’t focus on that. She flicked on the TV, scrolling through Netflix to find our show, but my gaze? I couldn’t pry it away from her.

She’d always been so beautiful. I told her that all the time, how she looked like a sweet little angel with her soft features and bright eyes. But she didn’t know the extent of it—the thoughts that ran through my head, the fantasies I buried deep. She had no idea how much control she had over me without even trying.

“Oh, I picked up more fruit snacks earlier. Will you go grab the box? I left them on the counter,” she asked casually, still flicking through the options on the screen.

She wanted me to get up? Now? With my cock this hard? Panic shot through me, my throat going dry. I didn’t say anything, hoping maybe she’d forget she even asked. But her eyes flicked over to me, noticing my lack of movement. She rolled her eyes, groaning.

“Fine, lazy ass, I’ll get them,” she muttered, pushing herself up off the bed and heading out of the room.

The second she was out the door, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. My hands immediately moved to adjust myself, tucking my aching cock into a more comfortable position, attempting to hide the bulge that had refused to go away. There was no way I could stand up right now, not without her noticing. Not with my mind still full of the images I was trying so hard to forget.

I swallowed hard, trying to calm myself down, but the more I tried, the worse it got. Fuck. This was never going to go away, was it?

Y/n came back into the room with the box of fruit snacks in hand, her energy light and playful as she skipped over to the bed. Without a second thought, she jumped into it, the mattress bouncing slightly under her weight. She carelessly shimmied herself into a comfortable position, wiggling her body until she settled next to me. I was leaned back, trying to act casual with my hands behind my head, though my heart was pounding in my chest.

She cuddled into my side, just like always, her head resting against my shoulder. But then she tossed her leg over my lap, her thigh draping right over where I was still painfully hard. The instant her leg made contact with my bulge, I jumped, a sharp hiss escaping my lips before I could stop it.

Her eyes shot up to me, filled with concern, her brows furrowing slightly. "You okay?" she asked, her voice soft and innocent, but my mind was spinning.

All I could do was nod, though the heat radiating through my body was undeniable. I felt like I was about to combust from how sensitive every inch of me felt. And maybe I was imagining it, maybe my mind was playing tricks on me, but for a split second, I could’ve sworn I saw the faintest hint of a smirk on her lips. Her gaze flickered down to where her leg was pressed against my crotch, a momentary glance that made my breath hitch. But just as quickly, she looked back up, her face neutral as she focused on the TV.

We both turned our attention to the show. Or at least, she did. She laughed here and there, offering her opinion during certain scenes, her voice filling the room with that familiar warmth. But me? I was barely holding it together, forcing myself to respond with nothing more than a nod or a simple "mhm." I felt like I was on fire, every nerve in my body lit up with the unbearable tension of having her so close.

Her leg was just resting there—innocent, casual—but it felt like so much more. The pressure against my lap was driving me crazy, the heat of her skin seeping through my clothes. I couldn’t focus on a single word she was saying, and couldn't even pay attention to the show. My entire world had narrowed down to the feeling of her soft leg draped over me, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake the thought that she had to know what she was doing to me.

–

After what felt like hours of torture, I finally couldn’t take it anymore. She was asleep now, her breaths soft and even against my neck, completely unaware of the war raging inside me. My hand slid down, almost on instinct, wrapping around her waist to pull her closer. She stirred, her body responding to my touch, and she subconsciously scooted even closer, her leg tightening around my lap. I let out a shaky breath, my other hand finding its way to her thigh, fingers brushing up and down her leg in slow, gentle strokes.

Fuck, she was so soft. My touch was light, almost hesitant, as I traced the curve of her thigh. Her skin felt like velvet under my fingertips, warm and inviting. I couldn’t stop touching her, couldn’t stop running my hand up and down, each pass of my fingers sending a shiver down my spine. My mind was spiraling, my thoughts clouded with desire, and before I knew it, my hips bucked slightly.

I swallowed hard, my breath hitching in my throat as the pressure against my cock increased. The friction was maddening—just enough to tease, to keep me on edge, but not nearly enough to give me the release I so desperately needed. I bucked my hips again, barely moving, but even that slight motion had me grinding up into her leg. A low moan slipped past my lips before I could stop it, my head sinking back into the pillow as the tension coiled tighter in my gut.

I needed to take care of this. Now.

I glanced over at her, making sure she was still asleep. Her breathing was steady, her face soft and peaceful, completely unaware of the mess she had left me in. I bit my lip, weighing my options. I couldn’t just lie here like this. I had to get up, had to go to the bathroom or—fuck—I needed to do something.

Slowly, carefully, I let my hand slide down to my lap, brushing over the tent in my sweats. The second my palm made contact with the bulge, I hissed, my hips jerking up involuntarily. Fuck, I was so hard, my cock straining painfully against the fabric of my boxers. I rubbed myself through the material, grinding my palm against the swollen length, and it felt so fucking good. The pressure, the friction—it was like a shockwave of pleasure ripping through me. I had to bite down on my lip to keep from groaning too loudly.

My hand moved slowly at first, just palming myself through my sweats, applying just enough pressure to keep me on edge. But it wasn’t enough. I needed more. My hips bucked up again, seeking more friction, and I pressed harder, my breath coming out in ragged gasps. I was so close, so fucking close, and the thought of getting off right here, with her asleep beside me, had my head spinning. It was wrong, but fuck, it felt so good.

I squeezed the base of my cock through my boxers, my hips lifting off the bed as I ground myself against my hand. My heart was pounding, my mind racing, and all I could think about was how she was right there, so close, and how much I wanted her. My breath came out in shaky gasps, my body trembling with need as I worked myself through the fabric.

The sensation was almost too much, the rough material of my sweats creating just the right amount of friction to drive me wild. I could feel the damp spot growing in my boxers, my precum leaking through the fabric and making everything even more sensitive. Every time I pressed down, the pressure sent sparks of pleasure shooting through me, and I couldn’t stop the soft groans escaping my throat.

"Fuck," I whispered, my head falling back against the pillow as I continued to rub myself, my hand moving faster now. I was on the edge, teetering on the brink, and all I needed was one more push. Just one more.

Then, suddenly, Y/N’s phone started ringing, the sharp sound piercing through the haze of pleasure. I froze, my eyes snapping open as she stirred beside me.

The moment I heard the door close downstairs, I let out a ragged breath. The tension that had been coiling tight inside me for what felt like hours was ready to snap. I couldn't take it anymore. My cock was painfully hard, straining against my sweats, and the wet spot had spread even more, slicking the fabric with precum. Every brush of the material against my sensitive skin sent another jolt of need shooting through me.

My hand slid down to the waistband of my sweats, fingers trembling with the mix of lust and desperation. I tugged them down just enough to free myself, hissing through clenched teeth as the cool air hit my aching length. My cock sprang free, flushed and slick with precum, the head glistening under the dim light. I wrapped my hand around it, groaning at the sweet relief of finally touching myself without the barrier of fabric.

But it still wasn’t enough. Even as I started pumping myself, my hand moving slow and steady, it wasn’t enough. The frustration gnawed at me, the need to release mounting with every passing second. My grip tightened, my strokes speeding up, and I bucked my hips into my hand, chasing that release. I needed more, something to push me over the edge, something to bring me the satisfaction I craved so badly.

My mind wandered back to her—Y/N. I imagined her in that innocent little way she’d always curl up beside me, so unaware of what she did to me. And then my thoughts darkened, turned filthy. My brain conjured the image of her using her toy, that same fucking vibrator I found under her pillow. I pictured her sprawled out on this very bed, her legs spread wide, her fingers guiding the pink toy between her sopping folds. I could almost hear her soft moans, the way she'd writhe under the pleasure, her hips jerking as she used it against herself.

"Fuck," I groaned, my hand moving faster, pumping myself harder as the fantasy played out in my mind. But no matter how fast I went, no matter how tight my grip got, it wasn’t enough. My body was on fire, but the release I needed so desperately stayed just out of reach. The slick sounds of my cock sliding through my fist filled the room, mixing with my heavy breathing, but it only heightened my frustration. My hips bucked into my hand with each stroke, but still, it wasn’t enough.

I needed more. I needed to cum, and I needed it fast. But even as I pumped myself harder, my strokes grew erratic, my body trembling with the effort, I couldn’t get there. A low, guttural growl escaped my throat as I squeezed my cock tighter, my hand sliding up and down the length with increasing speed. The pressure built, teetering on the edge of release, but it wasn’t enough to send me over.

"Fuck... fuck..." I panted, my hand slowing down despite my desperation. I couldn't keep it up. The pleasure was maddening, overwhelming, but no matter how much I tried to push myself over the edge, it stayed just out of reach. With a heavy, defeated breath, my hand came to a stop, resting limply around my shaft as I let out a frustrated groan.

"So stupid," I muttered under my breath, shame creeping in as the haze of lust gave way to frustration. What the hell was wrong with me? I’d been so close, and now... it was all slipping away. My hand fell away from my cock, leaving it throbbing, hard, and unsatisfied, and I let out another shaky breath.

But then, an idea popped into my head, one so dangerous and tempting that it made my heart race all over again. My gaze flicked to the pillow beside me, the same one that hid the source of all my frustration tonight. The vibrator.

The thought sent a thrill of excitement coursing through me, my pulse quickening as the idea fully took root. Fuck it. I was already this far gone. What did I have to lose?

With trembling fingers, I reached under the pillow beside me, my hand searching until I found it—the same toy that had gotten me into this situation in the first place. My fingers wrapped around the smooth, cool surface of the vibrator, and I pulled it out, holding it up in the dim light. It was small, pink, and innocent-looking, but fuck, the thoughts it conjured in my mind were anything but.

I swallowed hard, my cock twitching in response as I stared down at the toy. This was it. This was what I needed. I could feel my breath quicken, my body already reacting to the idea of what I was about to do. My hand wrapped around my length again, and I gave myself one slow, teasing stroke, letting out a shaky breath as pleasure shot through me. Then, with my other hand, I turned on the vibrator, the quiet hum sending a thrill through my body.

I positioned it at the tip of my cock, holding my breath as the vibrations hit me, the sensation unlike anything I’d felt before. My hips jerked involuntarily, and a low, broken moan escaped my lips.

The vibrator buzzed softly in my hand as I ran it along the length of my cock, the sensation sending waves of pleasure through my entire body. Every inch of me felt alive, pulsing with need, as I dragged the toy up and down, teasing the underside of my shaft, tracing the thick vein that throbbed with every passing second.

But no matter how much I tried, it still wasn’t enough.

“Please...” I whimpered under my breath, my voice barely audible as the desperation clawed at me. I was so close, the sensation almost too much to bear, yet the release stayed maddeningly out of reach. My chest heaved, my breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps as I pressed the vibrator against the tip of my cock, feeling the way it buzzed right against the sensitive head.

“Fuck... I need... please,” I groaned, my hips bucking up into the buzzing toy. The feeling was overwhelming, my body trembling as I gripped my cock tighter, trying to force myself to cum. The toy slid along my shaft, slick with precum, and I couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped my throat as I pumped myself faster, the vibrator pressed firmly against my tip.

It was agony. The pleasure built higher and higher, coiling in my gut, but every time I got close to the edge, it slipped away. I was fucking exhausted, my muscles burning with the effort, but I couldn’t stop. I needed this. I needed to cum so badly I could barely think straight.

“Please...” I whispered again, the word escaping on a broken breath. My hips jerked involuntarily, my body chasing the release that continued to torment me. My hand shook as I ran the toy back up my length, pressing it hard against the base of my cock before dragging it back up to the tip.

I could feel myself teetering on the edge, my body so close to the breaking point, but still... still, it wasn’t enough.

“Fuck, I need to cum... I need...” My voice cracked, and I couldn’t stop the small whimper that followed. My chest was heaving, my legs trembling as I pumped myself faster, my hand a blur as the vibrator buzzed relentlessly against my cock.

I was losing track of time, so lost in the haze of pleasure and frustration that I didn’t even realize how long I’d been at it. Fifteen minutes... fifteen agonizing minutes of chasing the release that wouldn’t come.

“Please...” I whimpered again, my voice barely audible over the sound of the vibrator. My head fell back against the pillow, my body writhing on the bed as I pressed the toy hard against the sensitive tip of my cock. My hips bucked up, and I gasped, the feeling almost too intense.

But it wasn’t enough.

I was so tired. My body was shaking, my muscles aching from the relentless effort, and my cock throbbed painfully, desperate for the release that wouldn’t come. I was a mess of frustration, need, and exhaustion, my hand trembling as I continued to pump myself faster, harder.

And then, out of nowhere…

Your POV

Your voice breaks the silence, sultry and dripping with mockery. “Oh, Joey, you’re not doing it right.”

His head snaps up, panic washing over his features. Eyes wide and pupils dilated, he drops the vibrator from his trembling fingers, the soft thud echoing in the otherwise quiet room. Desperation floods his face as he scrambles to cover himself, his chest heaving with quick, uneven breaths. “Wha—” he stammers, utterly shocked, yet the sight of him only ignites the fire within you.

You stand there, a smirk teasing at your lips, feeling a heat pooling between your thighs. You’ve been observing his pitiful attempts—his hips grinding into the toy, his cock straining against the confines of his sweats, each unsuccessful pump sending him deeper into need. Your panties cling to you, damp and sticky from the thrill of watching him plead and fail.

With slow, deliberate steps, you glide toward the bed, eyes locked onto his. Your heart races, but your pace remains languid and seductive. You reach down, lifting the vibrator, your fingers wrapping around it as you hold it up between you. Tilting your head, you let your gaze linger on his flustered face. “I can help you…” you whisper, your voice thick with promise.

His eyes widen further, a mix of hesitation and desire flooding his expression. He nods slowly, his breath hitching. “I—uh…” he begins, but the words trail off as his hand drops away from its futile attempt to hide his throbbing erection.

"I'm s-so—" he stutters, but you cut him off with a smile.

"Sorry for getting caught?" you purr, stepping even closer, your eyes flicking to his throbbing cock. "Sorry because you were using my toy to touch yourself? Or sorry that you didn’t ask for help sooner?" You tease, your words dripping with dominance as you wrap your fingers around his length, stroking him agonizingly slow.

He gulps, his voice trembling. “I was just… I was thinking about you, and—.” The admission spills from his lips, raw and honest, and you can’t help but smile wickedly at his confession.

“Just me?” you purr, your fingers brushing against his bare skin as you wrap your hand around his length, stroking him with a tantalizingly slow rhythm. “Or were there other things… other fantasies you had?” You squeeze him slightly, and he gasps, his eyes rolling back in pleasure.

“God, I—” he breathes, his voice breaking as his hips instinctively buck into your grip. “I didn’t— I just wanted—”

You cut him off, leaning closer, your lips brushing against his ear. “What, Joey? You just wanted to feel good? To cum?” Your words are laced with a teasing edge, and you watch him squirm, his face flushed with embarrassment and arousal.

“Please, I just want to—” His desperate plea hangs in the air, making your heart race. You lean down, hovering just above his flushed, purplish tip, letting a thin line of spit fall from your lips onto him. The warm droplet rolls down his length, and he groans, the sound reverberating through the room.

“Do you want to cum?” you ask, your thumb collecting your spit as you press it against his tip, swirling it around slowly. You stroke him with a firm yet teasing grip, watching every gasp, every shudder that escapes him. “Or do you want to keep teasing yourself like this?”

His breath hitches, and you see the conflict in his eyes—pleasure battling with frustration. “I— I can’t take it anymore, I need—”

"Need what, Joey? Need me to help you?" Your voice is soft but teasing, dripping with control as your hand begins to stroke him faster. His skin is flushed, radiating heat under your touch, and you can feel the tension rolling off him with every shaky breath. Each whimper that escapes his lips is a sweet reward, fueling the excitement bubbling inside you.

He doesn’t answer at first, only letting out a strangled moan as his head tips back, lost in the sensation. But that’s not enough for you. You stop abruptly, tightening your grip just beneath the swollen head of his cock, squeezing with just enough pressure to make him gasp, his tip turning a deeper shade of purply red.

"I asked you a question," you command, your tone firm, eyes narrowing as you relish the sight of his body straining toward you, desperate for relief.

His breath hitches, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he struggles to find his voice. "Y-yes, please," he finally gasps, his hips bucking slightly into your grip, begging for more. The raw desperation in his voice sends a shiver down your spine, making you ache with need. He’s unraveling beneath your touch, and it’s intoxicating.

"Then be good for me, yeah?" you whisper, leaning in closer, your lips brushing just over his skin, your warm breath sending a new wave of shivers through him. The tension between you is electric, and you can feel his resolve crumbling, his body surrendering completely to you.

With a slow, deliberate motion, you resume stroking him, keeping your touch firm but teasing, drawing out every ounce of his need. "I’ll take care of you," you purr, your voice thick with promise.

"What's your limit?" Your voice drips with control, the words barely above a whisper but commanding his full attention. Your hand moves slowly, teasing his slick length with deliberate strokes. "What can and can’t I do?"

"Any—anything, Y/N, please," he chokes out, his voice shaky, almost desperate. His body is trembling beneath you, and the sweat on his skin only heightens the tension. Your fingers twist expertly around him, pumping at a steady pace, but you’re playing with him, keeping him right on the edge without letting him tip over. Every time his head rolls back, his eyes squeezing shut to escape the intense eye contact, you slow your strokes, torturously dragging your hand along his shaft until he’s forced to look at you again. Only then do you pick up speed, smirking as he moans softly.

"Anything, huh?" you mock, your tone playful but dripping with power. "You’re so fucking pathetic, Joey." You bite your lip, watching his cock twitch in your hand. "Using my vibrator... your best friend’s toy... trying to get yourself off in my bed while I’m gone?" You laugh softly, darkly, as you pump him just a bit harder, your fingers brushing over his swollen, slick tip. His breath catches in his throat, his chest heaving as he watches your hand, every nerve in his body on fire.

The sound of his ragged breathing fills the room, mingling with the soft, wet schlick of your hand gliding over his cock. Each time you brush over his slit, his hips twitch up, chasing the friction. You pause for a moment, letting your pointer finger trace lazily around the sensitive spot, drawing out a sharp gasp from him, before you continue stroking him. His lips part in a desperate moan, eyes glazed over with need.

"How long, Joey?" you ask, your voice low and husky, making him shiver. His body tenses at the question, and you can see the panic flash across his face as if he knows he’s about to confess something he’s been hiding for years.

"H-how long?" he stammers, trying to buy time, but you aren’t going to let him off that easily. Your grip tightens slightly, and you tilt your head, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

"How long have you wanted to do this?" you press, your voice thick with amusement. "Or were you just especially horny tonight?"

His chest rises and falls quickly, his breath coming in harsh gasps. He chuckles weakly, his body trembling beneath your touch. "I-I don’t know," he mumbles, his voice strained, but you can tell he’s lying.

You stop moving your hand altogether, your grip firm around the base of his shaft, making him gasp in frustration. "Yes, you do. Answer my question, or I stop." Your voice is sharp now, a clear warning, and he knows you mean it.

"Y/N, please," he groans, his hips bucking up against your hand, desperate for you to move again. "Faster—"

"No," you cut him off, shaking your head with a smirk. "You’ve been hard all night. You’ve been thinking about this for a while now, haven’t you?" You run your thumb slowly over the head of his cock, watching his body react to your every touch. "Wanting to use my toy? Wanting me to touch you?"

His lip trembles as he tries to suppress a whine, but you're not letting him off that easily. You shift forward, your ass arched high in the air, breasts pressing against his thigh as you position your face close to the action. Your eyes are locked on your own hand as it pumps his throbbing length with deliberate strokes. "Don’t hold back," you murmur, your voice low and teasing as you flick your gaze up to meet his. "I want to hear everything."

The sound of your voice pushes him over the edge. He lets out a shaky breath, his body sagging in relief as he surrenders to your touch. "Years," he finally admits, his voice rough with need. "F-fuck, Y/N... I’ve wanted you for years."

Your eyes widen at the confession, caught off guard for just a moment. Years? The thought of him silently craving you for so long sends a shiver of arousal straight through you, making your core throb with heat. You can feel your panties sticking to you, soaked from how incredibly turned on you are. Your hand stills for a second, processing what he just said.

He whines at the loss of movement, his hips thrusting upward toward your fist, desperate for you to keep going. "N-no, please," he whimpers, his voice raw with frustration.

You smirk, snapping out of your daze as you start stroking him again, this time faster, more determined. His cock pulses in your hand, the heat radiating from him like a furnace. "Years?" you echo, your voice teasing as you drop your other hand to cup his balls, rolling them gently in your palm. He lets out a guttural moan, his eyes rolling back as the sensation overwhelms him.

"Tell me about it," you demand, your hand moving faster now, pumping him with purpose. His hips jerk helplessly in time with your movements, his body completely at your mercy.

"Fuck, Y/N," he groans, his voice a strained whisper. "Wanted you for so long... I—I’ve thought about this... every night." His breath is coming in short, shallow pants now, his chest heaving as he tries to keep up with the sensation. "Every fucking night, I’ve wanted you... this is unreal,” His cock is throbbing in your hand, the tip leaking pre-cum as you work him toward the brink of release.

Your core clenches at his words, the heat between your legs unbearable now. You can feel your own arousal dripping from you, soaking through your panties. If it weren’t for the fabric, the sheets beneath you would already be a mess.

You lean down, your breath warm against his tip as you press your lips to it, teasing him further. His body jerks violently at the contact, a strangled moan escaping his throat. His cock twitches in your hand, so close to the edge but not quite there. You can hear the desperation in his voice, the way his moans break with each stroke, the sound of his ragged breaths filling the room.

You bring his swollen tip to your lips, teasingly flicking your tongue over his slit, tasting the saltiness of his precum before pulling away. With a soft pop, you let it slide from your mouth, placing your cheek back against his thigh as you watch the way his cock twitches. “Mhm, keep telling me about it,” you breathe, your voice dripping with satisfaction as your eyes focus on the bead of precum slowly rolling down his length. Your fingers wrap around the base, and you reach for the buzzing vibrator, pressing it gently against his balls.

“Oh! Fuck!” His body jerks violently in response, his back arching off the bed, and his hand shoots to your head, gripping a fistful of your hair like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth. You hum in amusement, squeezing your thighs together at the sight of him unraveling beneath you. “Sh-shit! Y/n, Jesus..." His voice cracks, breathless and needy as you run the vibrator slowly up the underside of his cock, lingering against the sensitive tip.

"Such a pretty cock, y'know that?" you purr, the praise dripping from your lips as you glance up at him. His face is flushed, his puffy red lips parted, brows furrowed in sheer pleasure.

“Y-you’re so pretty,” he manages to choke out between gasps, his eyes meeting yours. The way you look up at him from between his legs, your doe eyes wide and pleading, sends his mind spiraling, even though he knows you’re the one in control here.

“Yeah?” you whisper, your voice a teasing lilt. “Think I’m pretty?” You don’t wait for him to respond, already knowing the answer, as you click the vibrator’s button without even looking, the buzzing intensifying against his throbbing length.

His breath hitches, a ragged groan tearing from his throat as you watch him lose himself completely to the sensation. Every whimper, every twitch, feeds the fire burning between your legs. The power you hold over him is intoxicating.

His chest rises and falls rapidly, breaths coming in ragged gasps as he stares into your wide, doe eyes, the smirk on your lips driving him wild. The toy buzzes against his length, and the vibrations seem to push him closer to the edge with every pass. His hand trembles slightly as he brushes a few stray strands of hair from your face, his touch gentle despite the overwhelming lust clouding his mind. "I couldn’t help myself…s-saw it when you left, and—"

"Just had to use it, huh?" you interrupt, your voice dripping with playful condescension. He nods, eyes fluttering shut as a desperate whimper escapes him when you press the toy firmly against his aching tip. You find yourself staring at him, momentarily losing focus as the weight of the situation settles on your chest. The mess between your thighs becomes impossible to ignore, the slick heat soaking through your panties and reminding you just how badly you want him.

Taking a steadying breath, you shuffle closer, hovering over him, the vibrator now buzzing just inches from your soaked core. His hands instinctively find your hips, fingers pressing into your skin with a grip so heated it almost pulls you over the edge right then. You glance down at his parted lips, then back to his half-lidded eyes, your heart racing as you ask, "D’you trust me?"

"Al-always will," he stammers, his voice thick with need.

You nod, leaning in just enough to brush your lips over his, teasing him with the promise of a kiss. He leans up eagerly, but you pull away before he can taste you, leaving him breathless and wanting. A wicked smirk tugs at your lips. "Heat of the moment decisions can be regretful," you tease, even though your body aches to close the distance. Every inch of you wants him, every second of this moment confirming how deep your feelings run—how long you've wanted him. But he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know you've been dreaming of this too.

You take his hand, forcing him to press the vibrator against himself again. "Good. Hold it right there for me." He nods obediently, starting to move it, but you quickly correct him, pushing the toy back to his sensitive tip. "I said right there," you repeat, your voice low, watching as his face contorted in pleasure. His eyes squeeze shut, his lips parting in a desperate moan. He’s on the edge, teetering between pleasure and agony, his body begging for release.

Standing up, you shimmy out of your pants and panties, exposing your dripping folds. You run a hand between your legs, feeling the slick heat of your arousal, and you catch his eyes glued to your body, watching every move you make. His moan is guttural, a sound that makes you even wetter. You both know this is insane—wild, reckless—but you can’t stop now. Straddling him, you take the vibrator from his trembling hand, positioning it between you.

"This..." you pause, biting your lip as you think, "this is fucking crazy."

He chuckles breathlessly, nodding. "Y-yeah."

You raise an eyebrow, a teasing smirk on your lips. "You wanna stop?"

"God, please, no," he blurts out, shaking his head quickly, desperation laced in his voice. That’s all the confirmation you need.

You align yourself over him, his cock pressed against his stomach, the vibrator strategically placed between you both—one side pressing against his swollen length, the other side buzzing directly onto your pulsing clit. The vibrations send electric pulses through both your bodies, the only thing preventing his throbbing tip from slipping inside you is the toy, teasing you both. The sensation is overwhelming, the buzzing heat building between your bodies, driving you to the brink

The tension between you two escalates with every pulse of the relentless vibrator, buzzing insistently between your bodies and sending electrifying jolts of pleasure surging through every nerve ending. The heat radiating from him perfectly mirrors your own, a primal connection igniting the air around you. The friction of his cock against the vibrator's head and your swollen clit creates a maddening rhythm, teasing both of you to the brink of insanity. Each movement sends shockwaves of unbearable sensation coursing through you, and you struggle to control the urgent need threatening to consume you.

His hands grip your hips with a desperate intensity, fingers digging into your skin as if he were holding on for dear life. The weight of his gaze locks onto you, his chest heaving as he fights to steady himself under your command. His cock twitches beneath the incessant buzzing toy, so tantalizingly close to feeling your slick warmth but repeatedly denied by the tormenting teasing. “F-fuck,” he groans, his voice strained and thick with frustration, the desperation clear in his eyes—he’s barely managing to hold on.

Your own core throbs, soaked and pulsing against the vibrator, slickness dripping around the toy and coating his length, turning every movement between you into a slippery dance of desire. You bite your lip, leaning in just a fraction closer, the faintest brush of his tip against your folds igniting a wildfire of sensation throughout your entire body. “You feel that?” you whisper, breath shaky with desire, your words dripping with teasing promise. 

A broken moan escapes his lips, low and desperate, filled with a raw, aching need as his eyes roll back in pleasure. His hips instinctively buck up, chasing the elusive feeling of your heat. “Sh-it, so fuckin’ wet,” he pants, his voice barely a whisper, raw with need as his cock grinds against the buzzing toy. Each ragged exhale he releases is a soft plea for more, his body betraying him as he struggles to maintain control.

“Mhmm,” you purr, your voice laced with satisfaction as you shift slightly, aligning yourself just right so the vibrator presses harder against your sensitive clit. The sensation is overwhelming, and your body trembles with the building pleasure deep inside you. His hands slide from your hips to your ass, squeezing desperately as he pulls you closer, wanting—needing—more, but you’re not giving in that easily.

“Yes, ahh—fuck, yes,” he stammers, his voice wrecked with lust, trembling as he speaks. His hips jerk up again, the pressure against his tip sending him spiraling toward the edge. His jaw clenches, a whimper escaping his lips, needy, as his body shakes beneath you. He’s so close, so desperate, but you still hold the reins of control.

With a wicked grin, you press the vibrator harder against him, moving it slowly down his length before bringing it back to his aching tip. His back arches, and his head tilts back, another helpless moan slipping from his lips—deep and guttural, echoing with his sheer longing. You can’t help but smirk, reveling in the power you have over him; it ignites something primal within you. You've never seen him like this—so vulnerable, and so, so needy.

Your own arousal drips around the toy and onto his length, each grind of your hips nudging it against his tip over and over again. The feeling of him so tantalizingly close, yet so far from filling you, drives you to the edge of madness. “God, you’re such a mess for me, Joey,” you whisper, your voice breathy with desire as you lean down, your lips hovering just inches from his. “Do you want to cum?”

His eyes snap open, filled with pure need, staring up at you, lips trembling as he struggles to form words. “P-please, I—” He can’t even finish the sentence before his body bucks up again, desperation taking over. His moan is louder this time, raw and filled with urgency, a testament to his overwhelming desire.

You smirk, teasingly dragging the vibrator slowly along his cock, relishing the way it twitches beneath the buzzing toy. “You’ll only cum when I say so,” you tease, watching his body shake, the tension in his muscles almost unbearable. “You started without me.” You lean back, tossing your head with mock pity. “You wanna cum?” He nods, pleadingly, his moans turning into desperate whines that echo in the heated air. 

“Too bad,” you add, flicking the setting higher, sending a cascade of erotic moans escaping your lips—each sound a sultry melody of pleasure that could easily send Joe over the edge, but he obeys, fighting against the instinct to release, wanting to please you even more. The raw tension crackles in the air, every pulse of the vibrator bringing you both closer to an exquisite breaking point.

“Aahh… fuck!” you cry out, the sound spilling from your lips like a desperate prayer. Waves of pleasure crash over you, a potent mix of ecstasy and bliss that threatens to overwhelm your senses. Your body thrums with desire, yearning for release, but the thought of this moment ending fills you with a palpable unease. The warmth of him envelops you, igniting a fire within you that you don’t want to extinguish. As you feel the knot in your stomach tightening, you instinctively pull the vibrator away, unwilling to let that sweet release come just yet.

With the toy gone, your bare core, slick and eager, presses directly against his throbbing cock, and the heat radiating from both of you intensifies the air around you, turning it thick with desire. He groans—a low, guttural sound that reverberates deep within his chest—as he feels the warmth of your folds surrounding him, teasingly close yet not quite enveloping him. The frustration etched on his face only serves to heighten your own need. “Y/N, I need to cum—”

“Fuck me,” you interject bluntly, your words dripping with urgency and authority. The air grows heavy with tension as he pauses, his breath hitching in his throat, his eyes darkening with primal desire.

“I don’t care where this will leave us afterward. Please, Joey… fuck me,” you beg, your voice a sultry mix of desperation and command. You don’t need to repeat yourself; he understands. In one swift motion, he flips you both over, his body hovering above yours as he quickly aligns himself with your slick entrance.

He inches his tip inside you, stretching you deliciously, and a gasp escapes your lips, echoing the overwhelming sensation of him filling you. You clench around him instinctively, your fingers tangling in his hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. He groans deeply, the sound vibrating against your skin, as he sinks deeper until you’re fully engulfing him, your warm, velvety walls squeezing his length.

His head rests on your shoulder, a silent gratitude escaping him as you draw him deeper into your warmth, your bodies perfectly aligned in a dance of need. “Y’so… fuck—so tight,” he mutters, his voice thick with pleasure and desire. You whine in response, nodding fervently. “Yeah? Gonna fuck me, huh? Show me what you were thinking of before I walked in,” you tease, your words laced with sultry moans as his hips pull back, then push into you slowly, each thrust deliberate and electric.

He nods, urgency flickering in his gaze as he begins to pick up the pace, his thrusts becoming more insistent. He seeks to prolong this moment, wanting to savor every sensation, every breath, as if trying to etch this memory into his mind. Even as you find yourself on the bottom, you feel a surge of power; he’s attentive, listening to every moan and demand that spills from your lips. “Such a good boy for me,” you praise, your voice sultry and filled with approval.

His cock twitches at your words, a primal response igniting between you. With renewed vigor, he quickens his pace, his hips meeting yours with an urgent rhythm, the sounds of your bodies melding together filling the air. The slick, wet sounds of your connection indicating exactly how quick his hips meet yours.

You bring your hand up to caress his face, forcing him to lock eyes with you, grounding you both in this moment of raw connection. “s’pretty for me, Joey,” you whisper, your breath mingling with his, sending shivers down your spine.

His eyes roll back, lost in the pleasure, as he drops his head into the crook of your neck, the sensation of his hot breath on your skin igniting a deeper need within you. “Baby,” he murmurs, his voice a breathy plea, laced with desperation. “Please. I need to cum so badly—for you, please, please—” He begs, the urgency palpable in his tone as he seeks your approval.

As he kisses your shoulder, leaving little nibbles that make you shiver and gasp, you can feel the tension building between you, electric and consuming. “Mm—fuck, y-yeah? Gonna cum for me?” you encourage, your voice thick with desire and need. He nods, desperate and almost frantic.

In a sudden, swift motion, he reaches over, grabbing the vibrator, his thrusts never faltering as he brings it between your bodies, the buzzing toy pressing against your clit. The sensation is overwhelming, and you scream out in pure ecstasy. “Ahhh! God—fuck yes! I’m gonna cum—”

He hums in satisfaction, the sound vibrating through both of you, feeling your walls tighten around him as his thrusts become more erratic, the urgency building with each movement. “S’so close. Whe—” he begins, but you tug on his hair, bringing his forehead to rest against yours, your breaths mingling in the charged space between you, every exhale filled with longing.

“In me, Joey, fuck! I want to cum around your cock. Wanna feel full—” The words tumble from your lips, a mixture of need and yearning that sends him spiraling.

His hips rut against you in uneven strokes, a desperate rhythm that ignites every nerve ending within you. He flicks the vibrator to a higher setting, the intensity sending shockwaves through your body. You tremble beneath him, slowly coming undone as he responds to your every word and whimper.

“Fuck—yes! Please, Joe!” you cry, your voice rising in pitch as you feel yourself teetering on the edge, the world around you blurring into nothingness. Your body shakes under him, your breaths mingling as you both chase the same elusive release.

With one final thrust, his hips rut at an uneven pace, and he finally reaches his breaking point. The moment collides with yours as he releases, his cock throbbing inside you as you come around him, a wave of pleasure crashing over you both. You feel him fill you with his warm seed, your belly sensitive and full, a physical reminder of the connection you just shared.

You both stay locked in this intimate embrace, savoring the aftermath of your release, breaths mingling as you bask in the warmth of each other’s presence.

Your walls clench and pulse rhythmically around his throbbing cock, each gentle squeeze sending waves of pleasure coursing through you as you both melt into each other’s embrace. The warmth envelops you like a cozy cocoon, cutting off the outside world and leaving just the two of you tangled in a blissful haze. His breath, hot and tantalizing, brushes against your skin, igniting every nerve ending, while his face burrows deeper into the crook of your neck, seeking comfort and connection.

“I love you,” he mumbles, his voice a husky whisper filled with raw sincerity. The weight of his words wraps around your heart, squeezing it gently, making you acutely aware of the vulnerability you both share in this moment.

Turning your head, you gaze into his eyes—those deep, soulful pools that seem to hold all the unspoken moments you’ve shared over the years. You lose yourself in their depths, searching for reassurance and finding it in the flicker of emotions that dance behind his gaze. He lifts his head, locking eyes with you, and your breath hitches as you see the earnestness reflected there. “Like—”

“Like, I’m in love with you... have been for years,” he admits, each word spilling forth with a mix of eagerness and fear, a confession that lays bare the truth he’s carried in the quiet spaces between your laughter and shared moments.

Your lips part, and a rush of emotion swells within you—love, longing, and a flicker of fear about the vulnerability of this moment. You want to echo his feelings, to let him know he’s not alone in this revelation, but before you can articulate your thoughts, he cuts you off. “And this isn’t just in the heat of the moment anymore,” he insists, the gravity of his confession palpable, hanging between you like a charged current.

His lips brush against yours softly, a tender caress that ignites a fire within you, making your heart race and your body hum with anticipation. Just as he leans in, poised to kiss you, you halt him with a gentle hand pressed against his chest, a teasing smile curling your lips, a mixture of affection and mischief dancing in your eyes. “I love you too,” you whisper, and with that simple affirmation, you give him permission to finally connect your lips with his.

It’s a kiss that speaks volumes—an insane night filled with bold actions and the obscure thoughts that danced in both your minds, culminating in this moment that feels like the official start of everything his mom has tried so hard to bring about over the years.

The kiss that follows is electric—a slow, languid exploration that speaks volumes of the emotions previously locked away. It’s a kiss laden with the weight of unexpressed feelings and years of friendship, now transformed into something deeper, more profound. Each brush of your lips against his feels like a promise, a commitment solidifying in the warmth of the moment. You can taste the remnants of your shared passion, sweet and intoxicating, and you lose yourself in the sensation, feeling your heart swell with each tender press of his mouth against yours.

As your lips move against his, you savor the plush softness of his sore, puffy lips, the way they fit perfectly against yours. It’s an intimate dance, one that brings warmth flooding through your body, igniting every nerve ending as you lose yourself in the moment. The world around you fades away, leaving only the two of you caught in this whirlwind of emotion and desire, savoring the electricity of your connection.

After what feels like an eternity of bliss, he pulls away for air, his gaze dropping between you, where you remain intimately connected, your bodies still entwined. The sudden emptiness leaves a pang in your chest. With a hesitant, deliberate motion, he slowly pulls out, both of you hissing at the sudden sensitivity that floods your senses—a mix of discomfort and pleasure that lingers in the aftermath of your shared ecstasy.

He’s quick to grab a cloth, moving with a sense of urgency that reveals his desire to ensure you’re clean and comfortable. His hands are gentle yet firm as he tends to you, and you can see the care etched into his features, the way his brow furrows slightly as he focuses on your needs. He rushes through the aftercare, not because he doesn’t care, but because the coldness of the space without you pressed against him feels almost unbearable. You watch him, a warmth blooming in your chest as you realize just how much he values this closeness.

Once the cloth is tossed aside, he shimmies beneath your pretty pink sheets, his body instinctively pulling you closer into him, as if he’s afraid to let go. The sheets are soft against your skin, their gentle fabric caressing you as you find yourself enveloped in his warmth. The scent of him—a comforting mix of musk, soap, and the faint hint of sweat—surrounds you, wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. He sighs deeply, a sound filled with contentment, and you can feel the tension of the night dissipating between you, replaced by a serene sense of peace.

You look up at him, a gentle smile breaking across your face, your heart swelling with joy. “Thinking about how Robin is going to react?” you tease, your voice light and playful, the humor of the moment cutting through the intimacy like a delicate thread, grounding you both in the reality of your relationship.

He chuckles, the sound rich and deep, echoing through the quiet of the room. “She might book a wedding venue,” he replies, his eyes sparkling with mischief and affection. The thought lingers in the air between you, a mixture of humor and the undeniable truth of what this moment signifies for both of you.

A/N: Thoughts? Comments? Requests?

! This is fan fiction.

!! I do not own any pictures.

!!! I sincerely apologize if this is fucked. I didn't proofread it and I have no intent to because ✨ i'm lazy ✨

Tags: @joeyfranchise

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