Chy

best if viewed in dark mode

Navigation

⤷ Hashtag Guide ── [ Here ]

⤷ Join my LSU!Joe Au Community ── [ Here ]

⤷ To be added to Tag List ── [ Here ]

⤷ About Me ── [ coming soon ]

Works ── Requests are ON/off

⤷ P!Links ── [ Here ]

⤷ HeadCannons ── [ Here ]

⤷ Blurbs ── [ Here ]

⤷ AUs ── [ Here ] ᯓ Popular .ᐟ

⤷ Texts ── [ Here ]

⤷ One Shots ── [ Here ]

⤷ Mini Series ── [ Here ]

Warnings

-ˋˏ my page contains NSFW content ˎˊ-

-ˋˏ You are not welcome on my page if you are under the age of 18 - MDNI ˎˊ-

-ˋˏ enjoy at your own risk - don’t like it, don’t fuckin read it ˎˊ-

-ˋˏ all of my content is fanfiction - I do not own any pictures/videos/etc ˎˊ-

-ˋˏ Dividers: @ / bernardsbendystraws ˎˊ-

It was a calm night for once at the frat house—no music shaking the walls, no shouting from the backyard, just a quiet hum of conversation and the smell of Nylah’s fresh brownies wafting through the kitchen.

Most of the guys were crowded around the island, joking and eating straight from the pan, but Doll was curled up on the couch in the living room, tucked into the corner. Her legs were pulled to her chest, eyes heavy, nibbling on a brownie like it was the only thing keeping her awake.

Nylah leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching Joe walk towards the fridge, her elbow nudged Ja’Marr sharply in the side.

“Watch,” she whispered.

Ja’Marr groaned low under his breath. “Again? Ny, you been sayin’ that all week. Nothin’—”

“Just shut up and look.”

He sighed but followed her line of sight.

Joe didn’t say anything. Didn’t even glance around to see if anyone was watching. He opened the fridge, grabbed the milk, and poured a glass. Then, casually, he walked it over to the couch and set it on the table in front of Doll.

She blinked up at him. “Thanks,” she murmured, her voice soft and sleepy.

Joe just nodded, straight-faced, and walked away like it meant nothing.

Ja’Marr’s brows lifted slowly. “Ain’t no way.”

Nylah smirked. “Right?”

He said, still staring at Doll, “She didn’t even ask for milk.”

He didn’t lift his head. “Shhhh,” he hushed, lips brushing her skin. He brought a hand to her thigh, dragging his palm slowly up and down. His touch was heavy, a little clumsy, fingers splaying wide before squeezing at the softest parts—her hip, the inside of her thigh—gripping like he was testing how far she’d let him go.

Her shorts were already halfway down her thighs before she could think to stop him—not that she was going to. Joe had already settled between her legs like he was made to fit there, tongue dragging up her center in one slow, wet stroke that made her gasp.

The first taste made him moan. Loud.

His hands slipped beneath her ass, pulling her forward until her hips lifted just enough for him to bury his mouth against her—tongue broad and greedy as he licked a slow path from her entrance to her clit, sucking hard when he got there like he couldn’t get enough.

“Fuck,” he rasped, the word barely coherent as it dragged from his throat, already slurred with how drunk he was on her. 

“You taste—” he cut himself off, tongue plunging back into her with a groan that vibrated against her skin, slow and savoring, like he was trying to memorize every part of her from the inside out. “So fucking good,” he finally finished, voice wrecked, breath pouring out of him in heavy, uneven waves as his mouth stayed pressed against her heat.

His mouth latched onto her clit, tongue teasing in a shifting rhythm—slow, then fast, then slow again—as if he was deliberately testing her reactions, chasing the desperate sounds she couldn’t hold back.

When he pulled away just enough to dip lower and collect more of her arousal on his tongue, her hips thrust forward, grinding insistently against his face, her clit catching sharply on the tip of his nose.

Without hesitation, he slid two long fingers into her slick entrance, pressing deep, before capturing her puffy clit with his mouth once more, licking and sucking with renewed hunger.

“Please,” she gasped, voice barely stable, “fingers—Joe, deeper, please—”

He didn’t hesitate. The stretch slow but full, and the second he curled them upward she cried out.

“That’s it,” he egged, his hot breath  against her clit as she clenched around his fingers as she took them deeper. 

Her hips moved like she couldn’t stop, rolling into his face while he licked and sucked and moaned into her, letting her ride his tongue, his nose catching her clit with every pass. His jaw worked hard, lips and chin wet, and every sound she made had him rutting deeper into the mattress—slow, desperate thrusts. He was getting off on just the taste of her.

She tugged at his hair, hard, and he growled into her.

"Yes—Yesyesyes, don't stop," she whimpered, heels digging into the bed as her thighs started to shake. “You feel so f—so good—Joe—don’t stop—”

He couldn’t have stopped if he tried.

Her fingers tangled tightly in his curls, holding him firmly in place as she ground her throbbing clit against his tongue, rutting onto his face with desperate need. Slick and perfect, her wetness coated his lips and chin, and he didn’t just take it—he reveled in it, groaning low and deep. 

His fingers curled harder inside her, pressing exactly into that tender, spongy spot that sent shivers through her and made her cry out uncontrollably.

His hips stuttered. Another grind into the bed. He was panting now, nose bumping her clit again and again, tongue dragging up to meet it between each thrust of his fingers. She was getting louder—closer—and he knew.

He suckled harder, faster, letting her ride his tongue while his fingers plunged deep, working her spasming walls as they clenched tight around him. His body tensed with every sharp, gasped moan she spilled.

When she came—loud and breathless, thighs locking fiercely around his head—Joe followed, undone by the sensation. Her grip tightened, and he didn’t resist, never breaking his mouth from her clit, never slowing the relentless rhythm of his fingers.

He came purely from her taste and the way she cried his name— continuing to grind against his mouth, desperate to stretch out every moment of release.

His moans were muffled against her as he spilled deep into his boxers, hips rutting against the mattress with slow, desperate thrusts that shook his whole body. The fabric beneath him grew slick and sticky with his load, undeniable proof of how messy he was. Still, he didn’t pull away—his lips stayed wrapped around her clit, tasting her even as she trembled and rode out her high.

But then he felt it—the slow leak of his release seeping through the thin cotton, a heat spreading against his skin that made him suddenly aware. The raw reality hit him with a jolt: he’d come in his boxers. It was a sensation he’d never experienced awake before, only in the foggy edges of wet dreams. A rush of heat crept up his neck, flushing his cheeks, and he wasn’t sure if it was embarrassment or what.

Slowly, he peeled himself away, careful not to disturb her curled form as she lay stretched out, eyes fixed on the ceiling with that satisfied, almost smug expression as she tried to catch her breath. He grabbed a pair of soft plaid pajama pants from the floor and moved quickly to the bathroom, the quiet shuffle of his footsteps filling the room.

When he came back, Doll was already nestled in her spot on the bed, watching him with a playful glint in her eyes. Her gaze flicked down to the crumpled, wet fabric clutched loosely in his hands before he tossed it beside the laundry hamper with a soft thud.

“Fuck, what you lookin’ at me like that for?” His voice was rough and scratchy. His eyebrows drew together as he plopped down beside her, trying to keep his composure.

“Did you cum?” she asked quietly, the edge of a smile tugging at her lips. “In your boxers?”

Her pussy was foaming around him. Creamy, white slick coating the base of his dick, dripping down his balls, pooling where their bodies met. Every time she slammed back down, it spilled more, squelching loud and filthy, soaking him to the fucking thighs.

“Goddamn,” Joe groaned, his voice hoarse as he fisted his cock tighter, the sound of his palm slapping wet against his shaft blending with the video. He scoffed in disbelief, eyes locked to the screen, lips parted. “Sloppy little cunt makin’ a fuckin’ mess on me—look what you're fuckin’ doin'.”

She was moaning in the video—high and broken—her words incoherent, her hands braced on the mattress as she worked herself back against him, again and again like she couldn't stop.

Her thighs were trembling. Her pussy was fluttering, struggling to stay stretched around him. And all she could do was fuck herself stupid on his cock while he filmed it.

In the background, his voice was rough, ragged. “That’s right. Keep bouncin’ on it like a dumb little slut. Look at that mess you’re makin’. Look how wet you got my fuckin’ dick.”

Joe groaned—loud—fingers tightening around his shaft, slick with a mix of spit, precum, and arousal from earlier. He could feel how sensitive his tip was, but he didn’t stop. Didn’t care. He was already close again, already grinding up into his own fist like it was her.

“Takin’ my cock so fuckin’ good,” he hissed through clenched teeth.

In the video, she threw her head back and gasped—eyes rolled up, mouth open—completely gone. His dick was still inside her, coated in both their release, and with every bounce, more of it spilled around his base. Thick, white, sticky. Obscene.

Joe looked down at himself and cursed—his own cock just as messy, his stomach smeared in spit and precum, the head of his cock red and leaking.

His voice in the video grunted, “Gonna make you clean it up with that pretty fuckin’ mouth. You hear me? Gonna make you clean your mess off my cock like a good girl.”

That did it.

Joe’s hips snapped up into his hand, his jaw falling open in a low, guttural moan as his cock twitched violently, spilling across his stomach in thick, hot ropes. His back arched, eyes fluttering shut, the image of her ruined, messy pussy flashing like fire behind his eyelids.

He stayed like that for a second—panting, sticky, wrecked.

He stopped mid-step, turning slowly to look at her like she’d just asked if she could join the team. His expression was a perfect blend of disbelief and low-level annoyance, “You wanna come to my practice?”

Doll nods. “I won’t be in the way,” she rushed out, propping herself up on her elbows. “Swear. I’ll just stay in the car or something.”

Joe blinked, unimpressed. “Doll, jus' go back to sleep. It’s cold as shit out, you’re not even a mornin' person, and you’re gonna be bored as hell. All you’ll do is complain n' piss me off.”

She huffed, shoulders dropping. “Joeee,” she whined, dragging his name out in a plea, her bottom lip poking out dramatically. “Pleaaase? I’m not tired anymore.”

He stared at her for a moment like he was trying to gauge how serious she was.

She hesitated, then shifted under the blankets, suddenly shy. Her voice dropped a little, like she almost didn’t want him to hear. “Plus… I wanna watch you work out.”

His brows pulled together, expression unreadable.

“What?” she added defensively, her tone dipping into a pout again. “You just—look good when you do all that. Lifting and running and yelling at people. It’s hot...”

Joe rolled his eyes and turned away like he was done with the conversation—but the crooked smirk tugging at his mouth gave him away.

“Get dressed then,” he muttered. “But you’re stayin’ in the car. Don’t need you whinin' about how bored you are ten minutes in.”

Doll was already kicking the blankets off, a smug little grin spreading across her face as she hopped up. “You love when I complain.”

Joe slung his bag over his shoulder, muttering just loud enough for her to hear, “Only when I get to shut you up after.”

She gasped dramatically behind him, but he was already heading for the door.

“Let’s go,” he called over his shoulder. “I like gettin’ there early.”

Doll grinned to herself as she grabbed her hoodie—rushing behind him with a giddy smile on her face.

They made it to the field’s small lot in ten minutes. It was still half-dark— the sun was just starting to rise—the fog settling over the asphalt and curling against the windshield like smoke. Joe’s car idled quietly, heat on low, the windows already starting to fog.

Normally, he’d be the first one out there—jogging the perimeter of the field, headphones in, mind locked in—but Doll had thrown off his normal this morning.

Because now, instead of catching up with coach while he stretched, he was in the driver’s seat with the seat reclined back, breathing heavy, neck tipped against the headrest.

And Doll was on top of him, her breaths ragged, her voice shaky and soft. She whined, needy in the small, fogged-up cab of his car.

“Mmph, I-- Joe,” she whimpered, gripping handfuls of his hoodie as she rolled her hips in tight, controlled circles. “So deep—”

“Takin’ me so fuckin’ well,” his voice rough as he praised, hands gripping her ass firmly, guiding her movements as he snapped his hips up, making her cry out and bury her face into his neck.

“Makin’ me fuckin’ late and shit,” Joe groaned, voice rough and low as his head tipped back against the seat. His jaw went slack the moment she clenched around him.

“'M not doing anything,” Doll whispered, a lazy smirk curling her lips. Her eyes were half-lidded, heavy with lust, even as her hips rolled in slow, torturous circles over his lap.

Joe let out a harsh breath, hands locking around her thighs. “Nothin'? You’re on top of me—ridin’ my dick before eight a.m. In the fuckin’ school parking lot—” His words broke into a throaty moan. “Shit, yeah… that’s good. That’s so fuckin’ good—”

“We're lucky no one's here,” she whispered, but her gaze flicked nervously to the fogged-up window. Then after a beat, voice softer, “Yet… What time do people usually show up?”

Joe didn’t answer. Instead, his hands slid to under her thighs, tightening as he started guiding her—lifting her just enough to slam her back down, over and over, making her gasp as he hit deeper. Her walls fluttered around him, and her breath caught.

“Joe— oh my god,” she whimpered, head falling back as pleasure stole her voice. Her thighs trembled against his, every thrust brushing something deep and aching.

But then—a sharp clunk from outside. A car door shut.

Doll’s head snapped toward the sound, eyes wide, body freezing above him. Panic flared across her face as she tried to still herself. Through the condensation, she caught a blur—one of the guys from the team, too groggy and out of it this morning to notice a rocking car, just a few spots over.

Before she could say a word, Joe pulled her flush to his chest, arms wrapping tight around her as he buried himself deeper with a sharp thrust that made her cry out. His hips never stopped, snapping up into her with purpose.

“Someone’s—” she tried, breath hitching.

“Shhh,” he murmured, one hand cradling the back of her head, fingers slipping into her hair. “You feel good, Doll? Hmm?”

Her body twitched, thighs trembling. Doll could only nod—again and again—body melting into his as her climax hit, breathless and shaking in his arms.

“Yeeaah,” Joe groaned, voice low and rough, a smirk tugging at his lips even as his jaw clenched. “Makin’ such a fuckin’ mess on me.”

Doll bit down on her lip, trying—and failing—to muffle the moan that slipped out as she rolled her hips again. “M’sorry…” she breathed, not sounding sorry at all, voice soft and teasing, her eyes flickering up through her lashes.

She knew what she was doing. Could feel how soaked she was, how the slick between them was loud and shameless—every bounce, every grind met with wet squelching that echoed in the small car.

Joe hissed, hips twitching up into her, his grip tightening around her thighs.

He chuckled, voice rough and low. “Makin’ me feel too fuckin’ good to be mad.”

His head dropped back against the seat, breath shaky, his hands roaming greedily—palms dragging over her waist, her ass, her thighs—like he didn’t know where to hold, just that he needed to touch her.

“Shit—‘m close,” he muttered, voice breaking around the edges, jaw clenched. “Right fuckin' there…”

The way he said it—like he couldn’t help it, like she was the one dragging it out of him—sent a new wave of heat through her. Her hands slid up his chest, nails lightly scratching through the cotton of his hoodie, her body tightening again as she braced herself, ready to pull him over the edge with her.

And the way his eyes locked on hers—dark, heavy, aching—said he was already right there.

She lifted her head just enough to meet his gaze, heat pooling deeper in her veins at the sight of his dark, intense eyes locked on hers. His hands roamed every inch of her, gripping with possessive hunger, while his other arm held her firmly against him, steadying her trembling body.

“Come on, baby. Oh fuck—” he urged, voice low and strained, the edge of desperation laced through every word. His grip on her hips tightened as his thrusts grew more erratic, chasing the inevitable.

“Cum for me—need y' to cum,” he breathed against her neck, his mouth hot, his words shaky. Every movement was a plea, every thrust coaxing her closer to the edge, as if her release was the only thing keeping him from filling her up.

And right on cue—spurred on by the rare nickname that slipped from his lips—she cried out, her voice cracking as she swore his name like a prayer and a curse all at once.

Her back arched sharply, but before she could fully collapse into the sensation, Joe’s hand fisted in her hair, yanking her head back with just enough force to make her gasp. Her eyes fluttered open, glazed and unfocused, as he forced her to look at him.

Joe groaned deeply, his hips faltering, slowing down as he spilled inside her. “Fuck yeah...yeah...mmh” he breathed, voice thick with need. Doll whimpered, clinging tighter as he slowly came to a slowed stop.

Doll closed her eyes, her body heavy and limp against Joe as he pulsed steadily inside her. He hummed low and content, the quiet between them thick with the aftermath. Then his phone buzzed from the passenger seat.

Joe reached over and grabbed it. The screen lit up with a text from Coach: You okay, kid? Not here early like usual.

“Up. Come on, up,” Joe urged softly, nudging Doll. “Coach is textin’ me. Gotta get to the field.”

He carefully helped her sit up, then swung open the glove box, pulling out a stack of Chipotle napkins. Together, they cleaned the sticky mess in content silence.

Joe spritzed on a bit of extra cologne, muttering something about smelling like sex. He grabbed his bag from the back seat, swung the door open, and stepped out.

Before shutting it, he glanced back at Doll, already half-asleep and curled up small in the passenger seat. He scoffed softly, closing the door behind him.

As he made his way toward the field, he muttered under his breath, “Knew she’d fuckin’ fall asleep. ‘Wanna watch you work out’—my ass.”

Joe didn’t answer right away. Just hummed low in his throat, watching her like he already knew every thought racing through her head.

Doll hesitated, her cheeks burning as the heat of her embarrassment trickled down her chest. Still, she whispered it—barely loud enough to hear.

“Shit… ooohh, shit—yours… use my pussy…”

That made him laugh—dark and entertained—as he dipped his head to her shoulder, never once faltering in pace.

She winced, body tightening beneath him, mortified.

“Say it again,” he rasped against her skin, breath warm and coaxing. “S' okay. Wanna hear ya.”

“Nooo—” she whined, flustered, shaking her head. “I didn’t mean—”

“Uh-uh,” he cut her off, lifting his head to look at her fully now, that grin spreading across his face like fire. “That’s not what you said a second ago. Didn’t you jus' call yourself my fuckin’ toy?”

She covered her face with her hands, a pitiful whimper escaping her, but he was quicker—his fingers tangled through the back of her hair, pulling her gently until her eyes were back on his.

“Look at me, kay?” he said, voice low and smooth, like honey soaked in sin. “Don’t hide when you’re talkin’ that pretty.”

She let out a shaky breath, lower lip caught between her teeth, her expression a mess of need and shame. The steady drag of his hips, the heat of his body, the way he looked at her—it was all too much.

“You’re mean,” she muttered, barely able to hold the pout in her voice.

Joe’s grin widened, feral and knowing. Then, a pause—a quiet, breathless moment—and she confessed, her voice strained and hushed, “Need… want you to talk.”

That got his attention. His tongue swept over his bottom lip, eyes flicking over her flushed, open face.

“Need me to talk you through it, huh?” he asked, his voice dropping even lower, rougher, hungrier. “Jus' wanna be told how fuckin’ good it feels t' have your tight pussy squeezin’ my cock?”

She nodded quickly, lips parted, brows pinched together like she couldn’t think straight.

“Yeah?” he echoed, and then paused. “Listen.”

The only sound that followed was the filthy, wet slap of his hips hitting her ass again and again—the obscene rhythm of her arousal dripping down onto him, soaking everything beneath them. His pace never wavered, just got sharper, more deliberate.