#'so drunk' may be a stretch

[fagsystem]

I need you all to understand that medical terms and their defintions are specific. They may not reflect how those words are used in contexts outside of professional settings.

Which is the broader topic of the one I really want to bring up: Prior to MPD being renamed, personalities meant what alters does now. Most likely some variation and differences due to changes in understanding of how CDDs work, but you need to understand that personalities was not the way we used it outside of that context. 'Multiple personalities' referred to multiple different parts that have their own distinct behaviours, feelings, identities that are seperated by dissociative barriers. It did not mean it in the way that we use personality outside of that. Please. Please understand. I am so tired and drunk right now and it's bugging me so much.

[sugoroo]

#MAKE HIM BEG (FOR THAT P☆SSY!)

ʚɞ summary. how the jjk men look when they beg for it. are they reluctant as they force the words out or pathetic as they whine for it? . . . ft. gojo, geto, toji, choso + sukuna.

warnings. fem!reader, pussydrunk men of course, oral (f receiving), masturbation, penetration (p in v), riding, mating press, sukunas inspired by that one scene in wolf of wall street yupp, 18+ mdni.

SATORU GOJO — BREAKS IN NO TIME!

satoru may spend a short while attempting to defy your orders to beg for what he wants, crossing his arms over his chest and looking away with a petulant pout pushing at his lips.

but with you sitting there oh-so-temptingly next to him on the bed clad in nothing but a fuzzy pink nightgown and looking so painfully beautiful, god is it hard to keep up his childish stubbornness.

just look at it from his point of view for a moment... he's the strongest; he shouldn't have to plead with anyone for anything, right? hell, one could even argue that you should be the one begging him to lay his hands on you.

but if he's being completely honest with himself, he doesn't quite feel like the strongest whenever he's with you — no, it's the opposite, in fact... you make him weak.

weak enough that he's willing to throw caution to the wind and abandon his infamous prideful streak entirely to beg for you.

"please." satoru mumbles under his breath, like a child finally apologizing to their parent after being sent to the corner and thinking about what they've done for the appropriate amount of time.

"what was that, toru?" you hum teasingly, raising an eyebrow and stretching your leg out to poke his thigh with your recently pedicured foot. "i didn't quite hear you."

the white-haired man groans dramatically, peering over at you with his wide, uncovered cerulean eyes. he's needy; you can see it dancing clearly in his irises — but you're not about to let him off the hook that easily.

"can you say it again for me, hmm?" you prompt in a tone just dripping with exaggerated sweetness as you slowly drape your leg across his lap, relishing in the way his pale hands visibly twitch at his sides with the desire to touch it.

your boyfriend looks like he's mere moments away from lighting up a hollow purple as he fixes his stare upon your leg, refusing to look anywhere near your own eyes as he forces out another, more desperate, "please."

"good boy," you praise as a reward, watching with bemusement as satoru tries to cover up the way the two simple words affect him. but you know him too well, and the subtle squirm of his hips against your leg gives him away. "that wasn't so hard, was it?"

satoru grumbles a few retorts under his breath, but quickly loses his train of thought when you lift your leg from his lap, slowly spreading both limbs to expose the sheer panties you'd adorned especially for tonight.

"oh, baby," he groans from low in his throat, pupils dilating at an alarming speed as his tongue darts out to wet his suddenly chapped lips. "look at you..."

"just look?" you repeat cheekily, tilting your head to the side as you observe his completely transfixed reaction — it's almost laughable how easily you can break him down into a pathetic mess. "you don't wanna touch even after you begged so nicely for me?"

"n-no!" satoru shoots back without missing a beat, mop of messy white locks bobbing as he frantically shakes his head from side to side. "i wanna touch, pretty girl. i really wanna touch... can i?"

you barely have time to nod before your boyfriend is between your spread legs, effortlessly pushing them even further apart as he buries his head exactly where he wants it to be — right up against the slick crotch of your translucent underwear.

and he's utterly drunk on everything about your pussy in moments; the tempting scent of your gushing arousal that wafts through the material as he rubs his nose against it, the way the see-through fabric sticks to your skin and allows him a perfect view of your puffy folds.

"so gorgeous." satoru mutters reverently, lovesick eyes flicking up to meet yours as his freakishly long tongue lolls out to lick a slow, thorough stripe up the soiled front of your panties.

you're not sure who moans louder; him or you. all you do know is that it doesn't take long for his eager mouth to be directly over your cunt, ruined underwear tossed somewhere nearby without a second thought.

"y'should... make me work for it... more often, baby," he pants against you between obnoxious slurps and frequent groans of enjoyment at your saccharine flavour. "somehow, it makes this pretty pussy taste even sweeter."

SUGURU GETO — TURNS THE TABLES ON YOU!

suguru has no problem in indulging you if you want to switch things up in the bedroom every now and again. you want him to beg for you? sure, he can do that.

...because he knows that the roles will be reversed soon enough.

so when you pull him away from your gushy cunt by his hair after he's just spent the last few blissful hours down there coaxing orgasm after orgasm out of your writhing body, he's waiting patiently for whatever you want to say.

"if you want to be inside me next... you have to beg for it," you say breathlessly, trailing your fingers from the back of his silky, loose hair down to the nape of his neck and squeezing. "can you do that for me, sugu?"

suguru pretends to consider it for a moment, tilting his head to the side and peering up at you with thoughtful violet eyes. after a few moments, he responds. "hmm... i see no reason why i can't."

your surprise is evident on your face at just how quickly he agreed — when you first decided you wanted to try this, you assumed it would take atleast a little bit of convincing to get him to go along with it.

...but apparently not.

"wow. um... just like that?" you chuckle in a soft puff of startled air, eyebrows raised as you watch him stand up from his knees and rest his large hands over your bare thighs.

"what? did you expect me to put up a fight or something, baby?" suguru purrs gently, leaning down so his face is inches from yours, hot breaths mingling together. "nah. my girl's pretty pussy is worth begging for, don't you think?"

you swallow thickly, his sultry words making a gush of arousal ooze onto the sheets beneath you as your eyes briefly flick down to his lips which are still swollen and shiny with your juices. "i wouldn't have asked you to if i didn't think so."

he releases a low, velvety laugh at this before slowly spreading your legs wider to make room for himself and crawling onto the mattress to settle between them.

suguru reaches down past the waistband of his grey sweatpants to wrap a tanned hand around his neglected cock, giving it a few pumps while his gaze stays fixed upon your glistening wetness.

and he just keeps doing this for a few long moments, making your body instinctively squirm around in need as you observe his ministrations with an air of impatience. "i-isn't this the part where you're meant to do the begging?" you force out, hoping your voice isn't too audibly uneven.

he simply smiles at this — a lilting, amused little smile that makes you feel like he might know something you don't. "i will, sweetheart. just getting myself ready first."

a few minutes pass, yet he still makes no move whatsoever to start pleading with you; and naturally, you're starting to become more and more restless, itching for something, anything to happen.

then suddenly, without any warning whatsoever, suguru pushes both his sweats and boxers down in one fell swoop, instantly drawing your attention to his thick, veiny cock as it slaps against his toned abdomen, reddened tip angry and drooling from all the teasing he's been doing to it.

and you're so fixated on the sight before you that you hardly even notice when he slyly lines himself up with your entrance, rubbing his leaky cockhead around it in slow, infuriating circles.

"w-what are you doing, sugu?" you gasp, brows pinching in a mix of annoyance and pleasure at his deliberately un-coordinated movements; he's working you up on purpose... but why?

"nothing." suguru hums entirely innocently, blinking down at you with an air of nonchalance that doesn't fail to irk you.

for a while, silence falls between you as you both gaze intently at where your bodies are connected — so close to becoming one but not quite there yet.

and then, the somewhat tranquil moment is suddenly snapped into a thousand tiny pieces by the loud, wet slap! of your boyfriend's flushed tip slapping against your cunt.

and it makes you release a pitiful cry, needy hips instinctively bucking up against him in search of more friction. but he abruptly pulls away before your skin can touch again, still sporting that strange smile.

"you want something, pretty girl?" suguru croons in a deceptively sweet tone, reaching down to trail a slender finger down the supple skin of your tummy and relishing the way your hips buck again in response.

"y-yes," you whine pathetically, too desperate to be full of him to even process how this situation has somehow been turned completely on its head in mere minutes. "please, sugu... need you."

"thereee we go... who's the one begging now, hm?" he chuckles loudly, eery smile finally widening into the smug grin he's evidently been holding back this whole time. "see what i did there?"

"...i hate you."

"no you don't, baby."

and he's right; you don't. and when he distracts you by finally, finally beginning to ease himself inside your throbbing heat, you think maybe the tables being turned on you wasn't such a bad thing after all.

TOJI FUSHIGURO — YOU'LL HAVE TO WEAR HIM DOWN!

“—you want me to what?” toji grunts in response, a thick dark eyebrow raised in exasperation as he looks at you like you’d just grown a second head.

“you heard me perfectly fine, toji.” you huff with a small roll of your eyes. of course he isn't going to make this easy for you. he never does.

“you seriously want me to beg to fuck that needy little cunt of yours?” he scoffs loudly, jabbing a finger in the direction of your dripping core as if to prove his point. “i think you should be the one begging me to do that, dollface.”

“that’s what i do every night already,” you deadpan, crossing your arms over your chest and observing the way he simply shrugs in response. “we’re trying something different this time.”

“oh, are we now?” toji drawls mockingly, tilting his head to the side and eyeing you with a bemused half-smile tugging at his scarred lips. “and what makes you so sure i’ll even agree to go along with this, hm?”

“well… because if you don’t, then you get no pussy tonight.” you counter in a decisive hum, closing your legs and sealing yourself away from his view.

“really? that's the best y'got?” he snorts obnoxiously, waving a dismissive hand in your direction and turning his head back to the television screen at the end of the bed as if to showcase how unaffected he is by your threat.

toji may be stubborn as a mule, but so are you; which is a good thing because it means you work well together, but a bad thing (for him) because it means that two can play at this little game he’s started.

so while he pretends his attention is solely fixed on whatever is quietly playing on the tv, you not-so-subtly begin sliding a hand down the length of your body, eyeing him carefully for any signs of a reaction.

you know you’re making progress when he covers up the way a groan threatens to rumble from deep in his throat when he notices your hand finishing its descent and disappearing between your legs by clearing his throat into his fist.

he holds out for quite a while, honesty. it must be taking a herculean effort on his part not to snap when you begin releasing shameless moans and gasps of pleasure right beside him, coupled with the lewd squelching sounds emanating from your cunt.

but toji is just a man, after all — and one that is not used to being denied what he wants, at that. so it's not long at all before he breaks, practically ripping his clothes to shreds in his haste to be inside of you right now.

you stop him before he can line himself up with your entrance by placing a hand on his bare chest, a victorious smile pulling at your lips as you tilt your head to the side. "forgetting something, big man?"

"huh? oh, y'mean a condom? sorry, baby, 'm all out." he mutters while shooting an apologetic grin in your direction, quickly turning his focus back to pushing his gushing tip towards your fluttering hole.

"no, not that," you chuckle in bemusement, giving his chest a light shove to stop his advances yet again. "i'm fairly certain i said no pussy for you unless you beg for it, didn't i?"

toji's grin falls comically fast, replaced by a small scowl of annoyance as he leans back on his haunches. damn it, he'd been foolish to hope you would've forgotten about that already.

"jesus christ, fine... please?" he forces out with about as much enthusiasm as a young child about to go to their first day back at school after a long vacation, the words coated in bitterness as they fall from his tongue.

"alright, i see you don't really want it then, so i'll just see myself out—"

"fuck no, you're not going anywhere, dollface," toji grunts before you can even take a single step towards the door, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and effortlessly pulling you down onto his lap. "i'll even beg all proper for ya, okay? please can i have you, mama?"

"...i suppose." you respond with a small smile, trying to hold back the smugness threatening to bubble up into your tone as you realize that your little plan actually worked.

but as per usual, you end up being the one begging for more once toji starts bouncing your pliant body up and down on his fat, curved cock that just fills you up so good.

...no surprises there.

CHOSO KAMO — BEGS ALREADY (A LOT!)

choso has absolutely no problem being pathetic for you.

he feels that it's a blessing just being able to exist in your mere presence, so it's only fair that if he wants anything more than that then he should ask nicely, right?

he has no idea why anyone wouldn't get down on their knees and beg for the privilege of getting to touch someone as pretty as you, especially when you walk into the bedroom in nothing but one of his oversized shirts.

"baby..." choso mutters quietly, voice already slightly whiny as he watches you perch yourself on the edge of the bed he was lazily sprawled across before your entrance.

"hmm?" you hum, feigning obliviousness, as you peer at him over your shoulder — and oh, is he adorable like this. all pale, blushing cheeks and an involuntary pout pushing at his full lower lip.

"you look so pretty right now," he murmurs quietly but sincerely as his wide chestnut eyes trail over your form with barely concealed reverence dancing in his irises. "...w-well, i mean, you always look pretty. but especially right now." he adds for good measure.

"why thank you," you respond with a soft smile, reaching out to lightly trail your fingertips across the distance of his sharp jawline and relishing in the way his entire body visibly shivers as a result. "is there by any chance something you want, cho?"

choso audibly gulps at the gentle and knowing tone of your voice, letting his eyes flutter closed for a few beats before opening them again. "m-maybe."

"maybe?" you repeat in a light chuckle, raising an eyebrow and grasping his chin between your thumb and forefinger to make sure his gaze stays directly fixed upon you. "i know you can do better than that, baby. c'mon, use your words for me."

his pouting lower lip trembles ever so slightly at your coaxing words, the rapidly growing bulge in his sweatpants twitching violently in a way that borders on painful in response. "want y-you."

"hmm... better, i suppose. but still not good enough." you tut in disappointment, removing your touch from his chin entirely and observing the way he chases after your hand with silent amusement.

slowly crawling across the mattress, you perch yourself upon his lap before the poor boy can even process what's happening, placing your hands over his hipbones to stop his inevitable squirming.

"if you want something, you have to be specific," you drawl in a low, sultry caress of a tone, languidly rolling forward against the not-so-subtle hardness you can feel beneath your ass. "now... tell me, cho, what is that you want?"

choso appears to be mere moments away from bursting into a fit of tears at your teasing movement, his pale hands clenching into white-knuckled fists against the bedsheets as he peers up at you pleadingly through the messy strands of dark hair that have fallen across his forehead.

"i-i want you to... to fuck me," he murmurs timidly, each syllable audibly shaking with embarrassment as it leaves his mouth. no matter how many times the two of have been intimate in the past, he still remains as shy as ever. "please."

"thereee we go," you coo warmly, hands giving his hips a gentle squeeze in reward for his obedience. "didn't even have to ask you to beg, hmm? you did it all on your own like a good boy."

choso merely nods furiously, his desperate facial expression doing all the talking for him as you lift your body up for a moment to tug his sweatpants (which are already decorated with a small pre-cum stain) down.

it's not long before you're settled atop his needy, pulsing cock, unable to resist his repeated adorable whimpers and mewls to feel you around him — and oh, does it feel better when you've teased him just a little beforehand.

he's going feral within seconds, pulling your pliant body down to his face practically suffocate himself with your pillowy tits while he ruts up into like an animal in heat.

as you brace yourself for a bumpy ride, you can't but think that if there's one thing you never have to worry about with choso as your boyfriend, it's him refusing to beg for you.

...but what you do have to worry about is the very real possibility of him bruising your cervix with how deep his relentless thrusts are reaching.

RYOMEN SUKUNA — KINGS DO NOT BEG... RIGHT?

ryomen sukuna is the king of curses. and, coincidentally, last time he checked; kings do not beg.

so when you have the sheer audacity to ask him to plead with you for the mere privilege of getting to touch your mortal cunt, to say he is outraged would be a dire understatement.

“absolutely not.” sukuna grunts firmly, crimson eyes narrowing in annoyance as he waves a dismissive hand in your direction, the action not dissimilar to what he would've to one of his old concubines when he was finished with them.

but you're irritatingly persistent, refusing to let the matter go for the entire duration of the night as if you truly believe there's a chance you can break his ironclad resolve.

"you must be deluded beyond comprehension to think i would ever stoop so low as to—" he begins to grumble, but for some reason, finds the end of his sentence disappearing from his mind when he lays eyes upon what you're currently doing.

there you sit, at the foot of his throne, skirt pushed up to reveal the lack of... well, anything underneath as you shamelessly sprawl your legs apart to give him an unobstructed view of your sweet cunt.

"fuck, woman," sukuna practically growls, the sound guttural and raw as it escapes from deep in his throat. he shifts subtly in his seat, craning his neck downward to get a better look at you. "what on earth do you think you're doing?"

"who, me?" you hum, feigning complete obliviousness as you slowly but surely lift a leg up and press the end of your high heel against the arm of his throne.

"yes, you," he scoffs incredulously, crossing his tattooed arms over his chest and attempting to continue remaining unaffected by your little display. "do you see anyone else in here flashing me their bare pussy?"

you make a show of glancing over both shoulders before turning back and shaking your head with a mock-innocent smile stretching at your lips. "huh. you're right, looks like i'm the only one."

sukuna only responds with an unamused grunt at your childish antics, the sound quickly melting into a rough groan when you lift up your other leg as well, body now entirely open and just ripe for the taking.

he finds himself instinctively reaching out a thick hand before he even realizes what he's doing, only for you to pin it down with the end of your heel without it managing to make contact with your skin.

"ah ah," you hum chidingly, tilting your head to the side and peering up at him through fluttering lashes. "you know what you have to do if you want to touch, ryo."

sukuna scowls fiercely, fully aware that he could effortlessly pull his hand from under your shoe and snap your pretty little ankle in half in one swift movement... but he won't do that, of course. (maybe)

he could also just take what he wants right here, right now, without having to humiliate himself by pleading — but he supposes if he's going to do something so utterly unbecoming of himself like begging for someone, it might as well be for you.

so as soon as the pathetic syllables of the word "please" leave his disgruntled mouth, he doesn't wait a single second to pounce on you, easily folding your legs up to your head so your heels frame either side of your face.

"but don't think this little stunt of yours will go unpunished," sukuna mutters gruffly in your ear as he impatiently tugs his robes open. "next time, i'll make you take both my cocks. then you'll be the one begging me; not for more... no, but for me to stop."

© 2024 SUGOROO. please don't copy or translate any of my works without my explicit permission. all rights are reserved to me.

LIKES AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!

[hoshigray]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐲 𝐃𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐍𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐛𝐨𝐫! | fushiguro tōji

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Not only are you drunk on a Friday night, but you’re a drunk, closeted succubus who is, unfortunately, under the care of the hot neighbor under your roof! Would you ruin the mood if he found out about your little secret? You don’t even wanna know!

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Toji x afab/fem! succubus reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern au! reader + Toji are neighbors - age difference; reader is in late-20s + Toji is mid/late 40s - crushing/mutual pining - drug/alcohol usage - fingering (f! receiving) - oral (f! + m! receiving) - clitoral play (swiping) - Daddy kink - sqǔitïng - anal play (m! receiving) - 69 + backshots + spooning + cowgirl positions - unprotected sex (psa: wrap it up, or get tf up) - creampies - praise kink - pet names (baby, doll, dollface, good girl, mama, princess, sweetie) - implied marathon sex - mention of drool/spit, tears, and cum - not proofread; will do l8r.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.8k

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: pulled this story out of my ass; I literally spent a whole single DAY dedicating to writing it. please enjoy, and tysm for 11.9k loveliesss ☆ love and appreciate u all !!

“…shit.”

There’s no way.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit—”

Of all days for this to happen.

“Oh, my fucking God, not tonight!!”

Tonight was already an eventful night, with the full moon shining brighter than the stars. Life has put you so fast in a whirlwind that you can’t recall the last time you permitted your body to unwind. Can you blame yourself, though? From moving to a new neighborhood and scoring a new job, things have kept you undeniably busy for the past few months. And not too mention,  it’s your fault for being a bit of a hermit and lacking a drive for social interaction. 

That’s precisely why your old college besties – Shoko, Utahime, and Yuki – pulled you out of your hideyhole and encouraged you to join them this Friday night to have some fun! “C’mo~n, lighten up! No more thinking about work or whatever; have some fun!” “Yeah, y’know you’re my biggest drinking buddy. Now, hurry up and share this cocktail with me!” The ladies pressure you to relax and enjoy the start of the weekend with some good drinks and delicious food. And, you hate to admit, it worked like a charm – the longer the hours went, the more you felt free as if all the weight holding you down had been lifted.

The only problem is, like all good things, that it had to end and that you had to go home. Now check this out: 1) you left your car at home because, again, you were rigorously dragged out of your abode by your college companions. 2) You were all pretty much drunk, enough for neither one of you to drive on the road. And 3) you guys are in the city, and catching a lift is not only a gamble but SUPER expensive! Guess that’s what you get for choosing a Friday night to free-ball.

However, when hope was lost, and you wouldn’t be in the comfort of your bed tonight, you received a text on your phone, and you could practically hear the angels sing in the heavens above!

Recent Message from: Neighbor Fushiguro

Yo. You home? I’m out in the city picking up stuff for the house. Need anything?

Thank God for neighbors, am I right? The chances of someone you know being within the same vicinity of you may be low, but never zero! Did you feel bad that you texted back saying you needed a ride back to your house? Sure. Did you feel extra bad when you asked a huge favor for him to drop your friends off at the nearest hotel? …Yeah. 

But luckily, he didn’t seem to mind. The only thing you had to endure was him teasing you about your little outing (with the help of your friends in the back of his truck) and your tipsy persona. “Never took you fr’ one who drinks.” He scoffs while putting you down on your couch after slinging you over his shoulder because you complained about your feet hurting. Damn heels! “Neither one who gets drunk.”

“It wasn’t my fauuu~lt,” you whine with a significant stretch while your neighbor roams around. “My fwiends, they forced me to–hic–to do it…”

“Mm, do your ‘fwiends’ always push you over to do things?” He shouts from the kitchen; you can hear cabinets opening and closing. 

“When you’re the youngest of the group, they do.”

“Well, maybe I gotta get to know ‘em so they can push you into goin’ out more. And maybe you can quit avoidin’ me when I invite you over.”

“I don’t try to avoid you!” You sprout defensively. “And quit teasing me, Toji! You’re supposed’ta be on my side; I’m the victim here.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever ya say.” Heavy footsteps draw nearer to where you are, and your heavy eyelids open to see a hand stretching towards you with a glass of water. “I’m here takin’ care of ya now, aren’t I, lil’ victim?”

A smile pulls your lips as you take the glass. “Thank you,” you express before a sip, and your neighbor lifts your feet to sit on the cushion beside you. 

“Y’re welcome,” he places your legs on his lap, grabbing the remote to turn on the television. 

You haven’t been in this neighborhood long enough to say you have friends. Don’t get it wrong; everyone you contacted has been lovely and friendly, and some have opted to help with your move! But aside from the casual greetings in the morning or the nods of acknowledgment, you barely know people who scratch the surface of acquaintanceship. Not to mention, it’s your fault for being a bit of a hermit. 

…But, there is one neighbor you could say you’re pretty close with. Someone nice. Someone dependable…Someone attractive that you’re on a mission not to stare too much.

Toji Fushiguro lives two houses down from you across the street. Remember I mentioned you had people assist with your move? This widowed, middle-aged man was one of the nice handymen who aided you and your friends with your boxes and heavy furniture. You remember it like yesterday, seeing this brawny man stroll up your driveway on the sunniest day of June. You nearly mistook him for an Olympic athlete. 

“So, y’re the one movin’ ‘round here?” The calm baritone of his voice was unforced. “Nice to know there’s a cute face on the newbie. Need any help?” It’s how he asked – so sultry and alluring you almost spaced out before nodding absentmindedly to his request for aid, hoping he didn’t notice you watch how the scar of his lip moved as he spoke. “Welcome to the neighb’rhood, kid.” Rarely do you have butterflies running amok in the pits of your guts, but they were challenging to deal with that day. 

And it doesn’t get any better from that day forward. No matter how hard you wished not to run into this immediate crush of yours, he would somehow wheedle his way into your path. It started slow, exchanging hellos or good mornings whenever he left for work or you took the garbage out. Then came the “Want me to do y’r lawn fr’ ya?” or the “House down the street’s havin’ a little barbecue, wanna get to know people?” You thought moving away from the busy city life would die things down. However, Toji making your head race every chance he gets wasn’t a move you could envisage. Think about how you felt the day he asked for your number to keep in contact “fr’ emergencies…or if ya need anythin’, shoot me a call,” how your heart jumped to your throat! Oh, the girls never stopped teasing you when you told…

Nonetheless, you can’t deny how much help he’s been. Well, outside of that, just being a great neighbor all around. Besides being an absolute succor, he’s an outlet you can come to for anything. Whether for the house, the community, or just personal conversations, Toji’s someone you can admitlingly say you’d depend on. With trust built from day one, sharing pieces of yourselves to break down barriers, it’s safe to say that he is undoubtedly a friend who made your decision to move a worthy risk.

…Yet, what’s even more risky is being alone with him, something you do everything you can to avoid. Why? Look at him! Would you trust yourself to be anywhere with this man alone? Of course not! This is why tonight is the riskiest night you’ve ever bestowed upon your drunk self.

“You got somthin’ to say?”

“Huh?” You perk to reality, anxiousness filling you once you realize you had been staring at the man. “N-No, I’m sorry.”

He stifles a snort, grabbing your feet to massage them from the pain. “Oh, wanna act quiet. You were all bubbly in the passenger seat with y’re friends. Now y’re all shy because y’re stuck with me, huh?”

“T-That’s not true!” A lie; he was right on the mark. Your heart has been beating nonstop once he sat next to you. “It’s just that…I’m sorry for making you drive and pick me and the girls up.”

“Nah, don’t apologize,” his focus is on your feet as he kneads and rubs the sole of your foot. “Told ya I was around the area doing some shoppin’, so pickin’ ya up on my way back was easy.”

You take another sip of your water. “Shopping?” 

“Mm, my kids are down here for the weekend, so I had to go out fr’ a bit and grab shit fr’ my daughter.” Ah, yes, Toji is a father; you remember him telling you about his two children in college, a junior and a sophomore. “They’re at the house right now; saw ‘em after I dropped stuff at the house before bringin’ ya home.” 

You hum. “Sorry for stealin’ you from them for a bit.”

He shakes his head with a humorless laugh. “Please, they probably don’t even know I’m gone. They’re big kids. Plus,” your breath hitches when emerald eyes trail to you. “Now I get to finally have you all to myself, no curvin’ me and whatever this time.” 

“I’m not tryin’ to curve…”

“Yeah, yeah.” He goes back to massaging your feet.

“…Thanks again, Toji. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem, sweetheart.” Your abdomen flexes at the use of the nickname. “You know I always got you…Say, did you hit y’r head somewhere?”

You blink, eyebrows furrow. “No? Why?”

He points to his temple. “Because I see like a lump right here.”

You mirror his movements, your hand touching the spot he’s pointing. And your fingertips meet with a lump on a location that sparks too much familiarity. You gasp aloud and cover the lump with your hand, the other covering your other temple. 

Oh, no.

Black eyebrows knit together. “You okay?”

Play it cool! “Y-Yeah, yeah, I’m fine! You’re right; I probably hit my head somewhere while out.” You take this time to remove your legs off the comfort of Toji’s lap and stand up from the couch. “I’ll put something on it to stop the swelling.” You can also sense something aching down your lower back at that moment. Oh, hell no!!

“Ya sure? Need me fr’ any—“ 

BZZZZ!! BZZZZ!!

Toji’s cut off from the vibration of his phone in his jeans, pulling the device out to see that someone called “Megumi” was calling. Good, a distraction!

“N–No, no, I’m good from here.” You say through gritted teeth, the alcohol taking effect and making your stance a little buzzy to uphold. “J-Just stay here, I’ll be back!” You don’t even wait for his approval, turning on your heel and heading out of the living room to the stairs. Your body feels wobbly with every step you take, but you don’t pay it any mind because you can feel the lumps beneath your palms increasing. “God, please, not now, not today…!”

You march as fast as you can to your bedroom, nearly stumbling on the floor as you haul ass to your bathroom door. You do a terrible job watching your footing fall after rushing to turn the lights on, and stuff from the counter falls because of the impact. But you didn’t care, shuffling up so you could look at the mirror. And the sight you see fills you with immediate dread.

Horns are the first thing you see from either side of your head; the tips curl as if to form a crown but point to the ceiling. Your eyes are no longer human-like, pupils shaped like slits as if morphing into a reptile. And your ears get horizontally pointier.  “…shit.”

You then lift your skirt and tear a hole in your pantyhose above the hem of your panties, and your fear quadruples at the sight of something long and slithery protruding out of the hole. A long tail with a pointy end; you lose your mind. “Shit, shit, shit, shit—”

It’s then you realize why this is happening: you had forgotten to take your daily supplements that are meant to subjugate these features of yourself. You’ve been taking them for the longest time before you moved into this neighborhood, so you’re used to your typical human facade. Now, seeing these parts of yourselves is the very LAST thing you need right now! 

And then something hits you, an unsettling feeling that you’re too scared to confirm. Your eyes travel down to your shirt, your hands hesitantly pulling the bottom tucked into your skirt and lifting to reveal your navel. You then tug the top of your skirt to expose a spot you’re honed in on the mirror. And the urge to scream grows tenfold once you see a black marking on the lower part of your belly. 

A womb tattoo!?!? 

“Oh, my fucking God, not tonight!!”

“YO, HEY!” And just when it couldn’t get worse, you hear Toji coming up the stairs and beelining for your open bedroom door. Wait, no— “I heard screamin’ and a big ‘boom,’ you alright? Where are y—“

Your neighbor stops dead in his tracks once he appears in front of the bathroom opening; his concerned expression shifts to an immediate neutral deadpan. He stares at you, and you stare back at him, the silence so thick you could cut it with a knife. A ring fills your eardrums, dissociating from this entire scene and all its complications.

You want to cry. Maybe scream, throw up, or just straight up die on the spot. 

Because this wasn’t the night for someone to find out you’re a succubus.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“…”

“…”

“…So, what are you?” 

Not even concealing your face in your pillow can hide you from the eventual questions of Toji, who sits idly on the corner of your bed. You cringe internally, never thinking this dilemma would befall you. The point of moving was to turn a new page in your life and leave the past behind with the city. Now, you are shriveling on top of your bed like a moody teenager, and your neighborhood crush is here to witness your depression.

“…What happened to your phone call?”

“It was my kid. I told him to lock the door since I’ll be out a little longer. Don’t try and deflect,” his blunt answer has you descend further to your inner turmoil. “How come I never seen these horns before?”

You sigh heavily; there’s no point in trying to divert now. “…I take supplements that hinder any features of my succubus appearance so I can look like an average human for the rest of the day.”

“Daily?” He sees you nod through his peripheral. “Succubus…the hell’s that?”

“Basically, I’m a demon that…that…” Yeah, no, let’s not finish that. “Never mind.”

“Bullshit. Tell me.” 

“D-Don’t worry about it, it’s not—“

“Look here,” he speaks to you with a stern tone, a hand coming to your waist to shove you a bit. “I went ahead and picked y’re drunk butt up, made sure ya don’t puke up a storm, and now y’re here looking way different from before. The least you could do is explain.”

God, to be lectured by a human – totally humiliating…! “…I’m a demon that gets energy from…se–….sexu, uhh………..sexualactivitywithhumanbeings.”

The silence that trails after your ramble is beyond awkward. 

“Oh.”

…

“Oh.”

God, just kill me right now!

The older man forces a cough. “So, you…have sex every day?” You can practically sense the tiny hint of discomfort from prompting that question.

“W-Well, I used to when I was younger. But I haven’t really…done it in a couple of years.” Jesus Christ, why is it so embarrassing to admit to someone other than yourself? This is the literal worst! 

“Is that bad?”

“It’s, uhh…It can be?” 

“So, why haven’t you done it?”

“Because…!” You snap your face out of your pillow and finally allow yourself to breathe correctly. “I just…I don’t have time like I used to anymore, and using my powers to make people forget afterward can get tiring. Also, the more times I do it, the more my drive gets intense from the last. The desire of a succubus can be dangerous, you know? And since it’s been a while since I’ve let my powers out, I’m sure it’s nastier than ever…”

“…Well,” Toji turns to face you. “Have you ever had the urge recently?”

“I-” Woah. That question came out of nowhere, almost answering it without proper consideration. “Wh–What do you mean by that…”

He shrugs. “Like—you know what I mean—like, even though you try to suppress it, do you still have those urges to do…ya know, it?”

Things get a little uncomfortable here; now you wish you kept your face in that pillow. Tojo’s gaze on you is distinguished — gentle yet stern, matching his demeanor. He's calm and calculating and is waiting for your response to his strangely personal question. 

“I…I, I don’t know.” It was another lie.

“Why’re you lyin’?”

“I’m not…!” Toji clicked his teeth with a face.

“Fine, answer me this then. Have ya ever thought of doin’ it since ya moved here?” 

Yup, this question was far worse than the other. His words echo inside your noggin, bewildered with every syllable relaying. And the widowed man lifts his brow from the lack of an instantaneous answer. You open your mouth, but words fail to aid you, your tail shying away behind your shadow. “I-I…I don’t—“

“Ever thought of me?”

“Toji!” You shout defensively. Sure, it might’ve been out of line to ask. However, it’s the fact that he’s breaking your exterior with every question — because of how on-the-mark he is. You could never prepare yourself for that inquiry, the heat on your face growing more unbearable. How could he know of the frenzy he puts you through just for existing? 

“I’m not dumb.” You peep Toji, turning his torso and facing his entire front in your direction. “You think I don’t notice how often you try to push me off when I invite ya over or know when y’re lookin’ at me when you think I’m not aware’?” He dents the bed with his added weight, and you forget to breathe, watching him inch closer. “Or act all shy and cute when I got you to myself?” 

You gulp, your brain short-circuiting at the feeling of Toji’s palm on your thigh. There have been countless nights where you’ve thought of your neighbor more than once, indulging in fantasies you could never speak of to a soul, especially Toji himself. To let the man know of the dirty things you’d want him to say to you, the names you wish him to call you, the erotic things you’d like him to do to you — death is the only option necessary not to let that happen. Unfortunately, he seems to have a good idea now that he’s cornered you like this, and you’re too stunned to utter a word.

“It’s okay, though,” he whispers low now that he’s close to your face, and you have to hold back on letting out a yelp when his hand comes to hold your face, his index finger toying with your sensitive earlobe. “‘Cuz I love it when y’re all timid, can’t even look me in the face…Like now.”

You try to avert away from him, but his thumb brings your chin back to him. “Toji, please,” his name feels forbidden to say all of a sudden. 

“Tell me ‘no’.” His nose brushes the tip of yours, and you chew your lip. “I’ll stop right now and leave, let you deal with this y’reself…Or,” he ghosts to your ear, and you quiver. “I’ll stay with you and treat you to what y’ve been scared to ask fr’.”

“Toji, wait,” Fuck, you can’t remember the last time you had your ears so keen, his breath brushing it enough to compel you to meltdown.

“Say ‘no,’ princess.” You’re locked under his forest-green orbs, and you swear you could hear your heart hammering your chest. “Or I’ll treat you right tonight.”

Perplexed eyes can’t move anywhere else, and your lips are wet from licking them without knowing. Is this really happening…? An inquisition you had no time to answer for yourself once Toji closes the gap, centimeters nearer with every millisecond.

I…can’t…

His face draws near, and your eyes reflex to close. 

I don’t…want to…

Toji pulls you in for a gentle kiss; your thoughts radio silent after the contact of his scarred lips on yours. No shot. Your neighbor was kissing you right now — there’s no way!? This had to be a dream…! This is truly a wild night: not only are you tipsy to the noggin, but your neighborhood crush has found out your secret, and now you’re kissing that exact crush in your room?? Your muscles go tense at what is occurring. 

He peppers your lips with kisses, forced to catch up with him as he claims your lips, a palm snaking to the back of your head to keep you steady. He licks your bottom lip, chewing gently to prompt the softest gasps out of your mouth. “C’mon, baby,” he coos to your sensitive ears. “Relax wit’ me.” You nearly melt at the lick of your helix as his free hand courses from your chest to your waist. The brush of his fingers onto your tail makes you jolt. 

“Toji, wait,” you mutter under your breath as he nibbles on your pointy ear, your hands gripping the back of his black wife beater. “D-Don’t; I’m so sensi—Nmmm…!” Jesus, the moan you held back! Toji trails his mouth to your chin down to your neck to suck on your skin. And your lower half throbs harder. “Ahhh…hahhh…”

He returns his lips to yours; this time, his tongue runs on your teeth vigorously to seek entry. You submit after a chew to your bottom lip, whimpering as the older man inserts his wet muscle to greet yours. Surreal, isn’t it, to be tongued down by your neighbor? You don’t know whether it’s the alcohol, the twitches between your inner thighs, or the flick of his tongue and the sound of his purrs that have your face getting hotter. 

And fuuuuuuck, he’s such a good kisser — scratch that, he’s an AMAZING kisser! You’re practically turning into putty in the palm of his hands as he lips you, tilting his head to a proper position with a soft push to your face as he deepens the kiss. He sucks on your tongue, and you mewl, helplessly quivering when he teases the muscle with nibbles. Your waist has a mind of its own while it sways involuntarily, rocking as you sink into the zealous kiss. He’s not overpowering you in any way; if anything, he’s so overwhelmingly comforting, his hand caressing your cheek tenderly, and soft noises of lips smacking and breaking apart bounce one after the other.

Then, you shrill unexpectedly. “…!! Mmahhh! T-Tojiii, d-don’t—don’t touch…Haahhh…”

“Oh? Well, lookie here.” Your ears perk at Toji’s chuckle. Unbeknownst to you, distracted by the intense kiss, your neighbor sneaks his hand under your skirt and touches your private zone shielded by your pantyhose, fingers pressing up on your vulva area. “All we did is kiss, and ya already got your panties wet?”

Embarrassed? Of course, it’s been so long since you were touched like this and out of practice. Now, your repressed emotions start to crumble out of their straightened form the more Toji’s middle finger rubs on your panties. And let’s not even mention your thighs motioning to ride on the digit, your dignity starting to disintegrate. “Ohhh, Toji…”

“Mmm? What is it, sweetie?” He nuzzles to your neck after licking and sucking on your chin. “Feelin’ good down there?” He curls his middle and forefinger to push. “Got ya all excited?” He receives a confirmed hum. “Tell me how y’re feelin’.”

You gulped thickly, your breathing shaking. “I-I’m feeling—shit…” he laughs lowly at your swearing. “Nnnm! You’re making me feel…so hot.”

“I can tell, you’re twitchin’ like crazy right on my fingertips.” His fingers move into a circular motion, and your mouth goes agape. “Fuck, man…Hey, hold on, I wanna do somethin’.”

Toji removes his fingers from under your skirt before you can tell, the heat between your legs going tepid as he withdraws from your figure to lay his back on the bed. But before that, he unzips and loosens his jeans to his butt. A noticeable tent of his boxer briefs has your lips locked to each other, and your eyes widen when he subtracts the material. Just when you thought this night couldn’t get any more crazier, you are awake to witness the display of Toji’s erection in real-time. 

How long has it been since you’ve seen a real-life, living, and breathing dick before your eyes? You honestly can’t recall that; the responsibilities of human life have made you grow numb to your demon necessities that it no longer feels innate. However, the sight of your crush’s solid, girthy, excited cock is marveling. How your mouth waters as you ogle at it is borderline humiliating, eyes glued to the uncut tip.

“Like what ya see?” He asks smugly, kicking his jeans and briefs off and slapping his thigh. “C’mere, mama.” Oh, fuck, the quirk of your insides was unavoidable at his comment, primarily as he guides you closer to him. “Let’s warm up.” You yelp as he effortlessly moves your legs to where you straddle him. He pushes your skirt up to your waist, and you can hear the tear from your pantyhose. His thumb comes to slide your panties to the side, and he whistles. “Damn, lookin’ all pretty and wet fr’ me.” 

It’s either the fact that Toj’s dick is inches in front of your face or your bare pussy out in the air in front of him; either one of the two has your mind going in a whirlwind. And it all comes to a standstill the moment you sense something wet and firm glide across your labia, and it takes everything in you not to tremble. “Mmm, oh, fuck,” he groans after licking your cunt, throwing in another lazy one to have you holler. “It’s been so long…Shit.”Toji’s hands curl from your legs to cup your asscheeks, keeping your butt near him to lap his tongue around your chasm. You whine as he licks you down, your teeth clattering at the sensation. 

Oh, my God, your head begins to ache. It feels so good, your body finally coming back to the groove of things as you move your butt around. The man under you quickly latches his mouth onto you, a firm grip on your ass to keep you in place for him to service you. Speaking of service, your eyes flick to the erect limb before you, your mouth salivating with the run of your tongue across your teeth. Fuck, it looks so good; you admire internally before inching your face close to the length, your head getting dizzier from the sheer size and musk. Damnit…I wanna taste him so bad…!!

“Go on, dollface,” Toji gives your butt a playful smack. “I know ya need this bad.” 

God, he’s so right — you need this; there’s no point in denying anymore. You blow on it before placing a tender kiss, noticing how it pulsates as your hand wrings around the shaft. You lick your lips before pecking at the uncircumcised tip, and Toji’s hold on you goes tighter. He’s sensitive, you note. Adorable. You stick your tongue out to swirl around the cockhead, bathing it with your saliva before you inhale it with a delighted hum, gradually warming up your loosened jaw.

Fuck, the taste of a cock — something that felt nostalgic the moment he graced your tastebuds. Your eyes water a bit, trembles rocking your figure as Toji sucks on your wetness, and every inch you intake fuels the haze that fogs your brain. You stroke and suck him simultaneously, a forgotten method that rekindles now in this moment. You coat him with your spit the more you relax your jaw, slurping him unapologetically as if a different part of yourself takes over. 

On the other hand, Toji feels the same way. It’s been way too long for the widowed man since the last time he has been intimate with someone, let alone have a bare ass right in front of him. It’s no secret that he’s had the hots for you once you moved here, but having you on top of him like this is like something out of his wet dreams. The way you murmur cutely as you suck his dick turns him on so bad, a guilty pleasure come true as he drinks your nectar off your damp naked folds. His tongue teases around the entrance of your vagina before pushing it in, fucking your opening with his wet muscle. You cry on his girth, your tail cringing in the air from the stimulation. He spots it and grabs it from the base; how your lower half jolts to the grasp is humorously darling to him. So cute.

The minutes go longer as you two keep pleasing each other, and a soft whimper escapes your lips when you release Toji from your lips, lips plastering long and sweet kisses on his shaft as you massage the tip. Your other hand palms and kneads his ballsack, the jerk of his thighs rewarding to see, so you increase the pace of your hand.

“—Thhh, nmm!” Toji curses from behind, sluggishly licking from clit to your slit while succumbing to your touch and mouth. “Shiiit, just like that, baby, suck me off like t—Mmngh! Christ, I’m gonna..fffuckin’ cum…”

But then, you remove yourself from Toji’s member, the cold air instantly blanketing him. Green eyes blink as you move off of his lying body, observing you bending over with your face to the cold sheets.

“Toji,” you plea to him desperately, hooded eyes shining eagerly. “Please, I need it…Here,” you spread your ass, fully exposing your slit wet from your fluids mixed with his saliva. Jesus, you were heathing as if you were in heat. “Do it here, I need it inside…!”

You had the man shook; the cogs in his mind stopped working briefly. The picture of you presenting yourself like this to him was unexpected, but goddamn, did it turn him on astronomically! Toji stands on his knees and advances to you, removing his tank top and discarding it to the floor. “Yeah? You want it that bad?” You nod impetuously. “Words, sweetie. Need you to tell me what to do.”

“Toji, pleeease…!” You wiggle your ass until he cusps it, kneading your flesh lovingly to the point that your tail curls around his forearm. “Please, put it in, I wanna feel it…!”

“Yeah, is that what my princess wants?” You and Toji bite your lips when he aligns his tip to your inner labia, teasing you with grinding motions. “Does my demon baby want Daddy to mess y’r insides that bad?”

Oh, we’re playing that card, too? Holy shit, you were getting so wet from this! “Yess, Daddy, pleasee! Mess me up with that dick, wanna be filled up right nooww…!”

He can’t hide the proud grin. “Good girl. Here,” Toji begins to push the cockhead to you, and your lips flatten at the wince of pain that accompanies the push. “Stay still, and lemme reward you,” his hips move slowly in your direction, you grip the sheets to prepare yourself, and your nerves are dialed to a plane of exhilaration you can’t regulate. Oh my God, is this happening? He’s gonna fuck me? So many thoughts cloud your mind, too excited and anxious for what’s to come because it’s been so. Damm. Long. How’s it gonna feel? Is your body ready enough? How does Toji feel about this; is he just as nervous as you a—

Your train of thought is brought to an abrupt halt at the sensation of Toji’s tip finally inserting itself into your vagina, too absentminded that your open mouth couldn’t say a word. Oh, fuck it’s in, it’s in! Your eyes widen, your muscles tense, and your voice struggles to cry. The older man continues to add himself leisurely, the length sundering your slit and stretching your opening as you take him inch by inch. Your back arches instinctively, wailing silently as you can feel the foreign limb intruding your tightness, quick quirks of your frame as he rubs your velvety texture. Ohhhh, my God…!!

When he slowly starts to rut into you, recurring waves of rapture hit your nerves every. Single. Time! You’re entire body is rocked to the core with every short yet gentle pound; the feeling of Toji’s veiny cock scrapping your channel has you shivering. And once he’s encouraged to push his entire member until the very hilt, you yelp aloud when the tip kisses your womb. “—Oooh??!”

“—Mmngh!” Your quick spasm surprises Toji. “Ohhh, shit, there it is. Hmm? Is this where ya want me, mama? Want me right…here?” He snaps his hips swiftly, the rushed movement and hit to your cervix knocks you winded. And another, you keep wringing his shaft acutely. “Ahhn, God fucking damn i—Iisshhffuck, fuck, I can’t, gonna…Hnghh!”

Toji’s body shudders above you, bucking into your warmth with a jittery pattern. The prolonged reaction of his orgasm claims him now, succumbing to the silky, tight texture and how well you’re grasping onto his girth. He comes inside you, moaning as he ejaculates earlier than expected. You sense it, humming to the immediate filling. So warm, so full of his cock already that your toes curl. 

And Jesus Christ, it felt so. Fucking, Good! You were no longer drunk from the alcohol; now, you were intoxicated by the prowess and pleasure of Toji’s dick. 

“Hah, haaaah, fuck,” he throws his head back with a hiss, his abdomen relaxing from the earlier flex. Then, your tail glides up from his abs, feeling up on his skin and roaming on his happy trail. He snickers at your feline-like comportment, “Heh, actin’ all cute now that you got what ya wanted, huh?” You say nothing, bashful to his words, while your tail curls up to his chin. “Don’t go quiet on me now, dollface; I heard you squeaking and moanin’ seconds ago.”

Toji then returns to rut into you despite recovering from his climax, furled to have you shrieking uncontrollably for him. The smacks of his pelvis recoil the flesh of your ass, his come stuffed inside you now glued to his erection as he rocks into you balls-deep. “Mmmm, yeah, that’s right, baby,” he grabs your tail and wraps it around his hand to pull; you scream louder, and your vaginal walls clamp tighter than ever. “Arch more fr’ me, enjoy me—nmm…!—fuckin’ you real good.”

The pull of your tail makes your senses hypersensitive, perturbed by the stress of it being pulled, yet the enjoyment you feel from it is too inexorable to comprehend. Coherent sentences double down to undecipherable babbles, “—Daahh, hoohhfuuc—D-Daddyyy, Daddyyy…!!” Tears well up in your eyes as he inflicts blows to your ass, the pain too quick to prepare for yet the sting enough to make you rigid. “—Too much, ish t’oo muuuch…!”

Another smack to your butt, and you howl once again. “Huh, ya say that, but y’re milkin’ my cock like crazy.” He bends down to remove your hands that try to hide your face and horns with the pillow. “What, ya don’t like this? Hmm? Want me to stop?” 

“No, nooo!!” You shook your head immediately; your vision blurred for a few seconds. “I loveee iit, I love this, love Daddy’s diick—Ahaaa!! More…I want moreee!” Fuck, this is bad; any more than this, and you’ll be addicted for sure.

“Good,” he whispers to your ears. Good Lord, you weren’t going to survive. “Because I ain’t done wit’ ya yet, princess.”

Before you can register his sentence fully, Toji straightens and lays on his side behind you, lifting your leg to create a suitable angle. He then plunges into you harder and faster, the different positions helping the sporadic cadence achieve deeper penetration while scraping your upper wall with ease. At this point, your body is too hot and sticky to care about anything else outside this room; your head pounding and too misty, your senses corrupted by the constant pokes to your cervix and the increasing haze that you don’t feel human anymore. Your succubus roots flourish, drool escapes your lips, and wanting nothing but this feeling to remain ceaseless.

“Gahh, ohhhDaddyyy, ahhahh,” eyes roll to your skull at the brush of your sweet spots. “Shhoo good, I fweel shoo gooood…! Harder, hardeeerr!” 

“—Khhck, goin’ as hard as I fuckin’ can!!” Toji kisses your cheek after a lick, chewing on it after hearing you mewl submissively. “Jesus, this pussy, out of this fuckin’—Nnngh…world.”

You turn to him and claim his lips, and he reciprocates into your steamy kiss. Vulgar tongues exchange spit and encroach on each other’s mouth, and you helplessly suck on Toji’s after he shoves it, your puffy lips intaking the attractive noises he makes. And you slither a hand down to your clitoris to swipe erratically while your tail goes around Toji’s waist and curves into the crevice of his ass. Suddenly, Toji stiffens at the pointy end of your tail, tickling his anus, and the raven-haired man gasps at the insertion. Too stunned to speak, he can only move his hips rapidly, his white-ringed shaft digging deep into you with the help of stimulating his prostate. 

“—Taahhh, y-you, lil’ minx…!” He breaks the kiss and bites your lip to hear you whimper. “Tryin’ ta make me cum again?”

You nod, breathing heavily. “Ohhh, Daddy, I’m so close…! Gonna come!”

“Me too, mama, me too…” 

Hot moans and groans fly out of each other’s mouths, bodies stuck to each other as you both chase for release. Everything feels so fast, so hot, happening all at once; all you can think about is the grinding presses you push up on your delicate clit. Fuck, fuck! It’s coming, it’s coming…!”

Then, it arrives. Your cunt, aching for the climax, receives the crescendo you’ve been aching for this entire time. The walls of your vulva contract around Toji’s member, milking and wringing him as you come loose to your grounding. A clear liquid exerts out of your urethra, showering out to stain your panties, torn pantyhose, and bedsheets, your breathing losing its steadiness and falling to a jagged tempo. The same goes for Toji, who falls into his peak along with you; your fluttering folds force him to submit and release his second load into you with a hiss. The older man’s heaving frame keeps bucking into you until every drop fills you to the brim, burrowing his face deep into your neck to rest as the shocks rock you both.

Finally, everything goes quiet. The cozy atmosphere pulls you out of your heightened elevation and lays you down with silent clarity. Both you and Toji, sweaty and sticky all over, are still linked to each other as the high dissipates. Shuddering figures begin to calm down and fall at ease with the tranquility.

Toji kisses your neck, and you croon until he comes to lay his lips on yours for a tender peck, then on your soft cheek and your temple. He then removes his flaccid bulge, white fluids oozing out of your hole. “Damn, that was good,” he mutters breathlessly. “Hmm, how ya feel—“

The onyx-haired man couldn’t finish his question because of the sudden change of positions you abruptly conducted. He now lays on his back with you straddling him; the calm tone switched to an unexpected spiking mood. 

You then hand grab his dick and arrange it back to your raised hips. Viridian orbs widen. Wait. The tip meets your labia once more before you descend it down. What the f—hold on— And then, his cock is swallowed back inside your wetness, and Toji grits his teeth.

 “Sh-Shit, sweetie,” Toji’s hands come to your waist. “What’s up, aren’t y—“

“Sorry, Toji,” the man surveys with confusion, watching you strip off and throw your shirt somewhere. Your naked chest is now out for him to see, and his breath hitches when you place your hands on his pectorals while a span of bat-like wings springs out from your back. “…That wasn’t enough.”

Wasn’t enough?? He repeats with furrowed brows, noticing the half-lidded, lustful expression and the sharp dents of your canines. Then, it hits him: 

“The desire of a succubus can be dangerous, you know? And since it’s been a while since I’ve let my powers out, I’m sure it’s nastier than ever…”

…Oh, shit. “Wait, we can talk about—“ You get your answer once you bounce on his cock without notice, Toji nearly choking on his tongue. Nope, no room for prattling.

“You let out so much, made my mind go so crazy,” you grind your hips on his pelvis, squeezing his limp cock while it gets firmer and firmer. “Feel so good…More, I want moreee…”

“C-C’mon now, baby, can’t we take a break for a minute at least—“You bring your face an inch away from his.

“Daddy,” your neighbor shudders at the gentle kiss you place under his chin. “Please take care of me like you promised, ‘kay?”

Your gaze lured him in, a trap he was foolish enough to fall for. Because now, he’s stuck under your bow as you begin to inflict an inescapable rhythm, rebounding on his erection until the base meets your folds. Choked groans suppressed by Toji, but take his lips with yours, enforcing a loving yet salacious spell with your satisfied moans. Now, your crush realizes you weren’t the meek, adorable neighbor he dotes on. 

Tonight, he was yours to play like a fiddle…And shame on him for getting way more turned on than he should be!

Wow. Guess I’m dyin’ tonight.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

I should be fuckin’ dead right now.

Toji knew something was up when his eyelids opened, and his emerald eyes scanned the ceiling, instantly recognizing that he wasn’t in his master bedroom. The rays of sunshine are blocked from the curtains, yet the light of day crawls in and basks the room in a low glow. Chirps of birds outside greet him on the basking of a new autumn day, lying comfortably in the cold, silky sheets of the bed.

He wakes to a bit of a headache, mentally and physically groggy. Attempts to move are already tricky and aches all over his body keep him grounded in the mattress. Ugh, feel like I’ve lost all feelin’ in my legs; the man can’t even lift one leg without a grimace. And even his arms are challenging, one so oddly heavy as if it’s nailed down. 

“Fuck, man.” His first words of the day are a curse, irritated by the drum of his head. He tries to lift himself; again, it’s not possible, agitating the man even more. And why the fuck is my arm so hea—

He doesn’t finish his sentence — the answer reveals itself once he turns his head to the left. 

He sees you, surprised to view you in your natural form still. Horns have grown a little larger, yet still small enough for you to rest your cheek on his shoulder. You were sound asleep, faint snores picked up by his ears as he examined your face at ease with a peaceful slumber. Nude, the both of you, a hand wrapped around his left arm to stick close to you while the other is stationed at his chest, your bat wings shriveled together to not get damaged. And judging by the snake-ish feeling, your tail was curled around his bare thigh. 

Strangely innocent to see after the events of last night flash into Toji’s recollection, funny to match such a lewd scenario to such a sweet face. He stifles a laugh, placing his right hand on the vulnerable one on him, his thumb caressing your knuckles as he grasps your fingers. Suddenly, some of the soreness he harbors feels light — glad I ain’t dead, I guess.

Your eyes jit behind your eyelids, a soft groan as you suddenly move and scrunch your face. Finally, your drowsy eyes sheepishly flicker open. Lidded gaze fighting the spell of sleep with every bat of your eyes.

“Mornin’, gorgeous.” Toji greets you.

“…”

“…”

In real-time, Toji watches your somnolent morph into a gradual display of mortification. He’s a little envious to see you spring up with no strain on your body, wings batting out of their relaxed state, and your hand still with his. “T-Toji??” You question directly, eyes surveying the nude neighbor in your bed, doing everything in your power to ignore the fact that you’re naked as well. Speaking of, you notice the subtle pink glow of your womb tattoo, and anxiety spikes to a high. “I–uhh–I’m so so sorry for last night! Sorry you had to bring me back home, and I didn’t mean to act weirdly on you with—Ooof?!”

“Relax,” he cuts you off by pulling you back to his lying frame, his left hand now free to snake on your shoulder. “Don’t talk so fast; my head’s poundin’ like crazy.”

You blink aimlessly, awkward now that you’re fully aware you’re in this man’s embrace. You can’t help recalling what transpired last night, suddenly feeling squeamish. “…You okay?”

“I feel like my life’s been drained by my dick,” he answers bluntly, adding more weight to your embarrassment. “Wakin’ up to a pretty face who nearly killed me with their pussy isn’t somethin’ I’d expect.” 

“……sorry.”

“It’s alright,” calloused fingers glide and intertwine with his yours, stroking your thumb with his. “Had a good time either way. Wild, but good.”

“Really…?” 

“Really.” You probably shouldn’t have peered up to see him look your direction. Albeit exhausted, his handsome face and sleepy grin ignite the heat on your cheeks. And your stomach flips, hearing a laugh when you meekly avert your gaze away. “How many times did we do it?”

“…Not sure,” long enough for my womb tattoo to be blatant. 

“Me either. Does that happen often?”

“Sometimes? I guess it’s because I haven’t done it for a long time, so I went…off the rails because of the intensity.”

“Noted, because I never felt so old until now. I probably pulled somethin’.”

“….Sorry.”

“Y’re good,” Toji scoffs before moving to place a soft kiss on your forehead, and your heart skips the tighter his hand holds your hand. “Tell ya what, I can help you with that cycle of yours, probably…twice a month, so it doesn’t get too crazy like last night. And don’t use y’re powers or some shit to make me forget, either. I don’t wan’ that.”

You lift your face from his shoulder, the heat spreading to your ears. “You don’t have to do that, Toji, I wouldn’t—“

“Nah, I’m down; it’s what neighbors for. Besides, it finally gives me a reason to make ya interact with me more.” Again, his smug smirk causes knots in your stomach. “Like the sound of that, mama? Let Daddy take care of you?”

Your lips quiver, and you hide your face back onto his shoulder. The rumble of his laughter worsens the butterflies in your stomach, and your tail squeezes on his thigh. “Don’t say it like that, Toji!”

“Y’r tail seems to like it.”

“Stop it!”

♱ 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs + comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header art by tamayura banko + dividers by @cafekitsune.

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Can you write a college roommate head cannon for miguel O’Hara ( 18+ f!reader)

ik you asked for HCs but I have no self control... my bad, anon!

College Roommate!Miguel O'Hara Headcanons

(AO3 Mirror), Main Masterlist

pairing: College Roommate!Miguel O'Hara x f!reader

summary: Miguel is your roommate. And he’s hot. That’s it, that’s the tweet.

warnings: 18+ as fuuuck. F-receiving oral, using toys, masturbation, voyeurism (-ish), grinding, praise, service dom (idk?) Miguel, recreational drug use (reader and Miggy smoke a blunt). Minors DNI

a/n: I am a firm believer that modern day Miguel listens to 90s rnb, back when men were men: unabashedly, unashamedly down so fucking bad for their partners. he just gives me those vibes!!

edit: I'm writing a full fic for this! Rigor Mortis, college au fic, read here.

wc: 6k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm thinking you become roommates but he's your last choice. 

Very last minute: you have a big falling out with your now ex-boyfriend, and the plans for flatsharing next semester goes right out the window. 

So all the good places are taken, and you're going apartment-hunting, but everywhere's either too expensive, too dirty, or there's a predatory clause hidden in the lease: shitty landlords and blaring red flags in 9pt Times New Roman. 

When you stumble upon Miguel O'Hara; a student in private accomodation who, lucky you, is in need of a roommate; it feels like a godsend.

Rent is affordable and he's nice enough; refusing to grunt more than a few words to you, but is clean, organised, and from what you can tell, is barely in the apartment. 

You sign onto the lease, desperately, hoping you've just been lucky and trying not to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

You give a thousand mile stare at the blank document in front of you. A bullshit paper due in exactly 12 hours. Yes, you left it until the final stretch, and yes, it's 10k words. Very doable. You're not fucked. Nope.

You blame it on the banging from next door. Paper thin walls; obscene noises. Cries of Yes Miguel and Just like that, daddy have been plaguing you for almost an hour. His stamina must be superhuman, the way the woman in his bed has been howling. Howling may seem extreme, but she sounds like a dying cat: cock drunk and babbling over Miguel O'Hara? 

Your new roommate had been nice enough. Quiet, unassuming, and seemed more than absorbed in his schoolwork. So you didn't expect him to unashamedly fuck the girl he's been tutoring for the past week. It all clicks. The "perfect roommate" turned out to have one teeny tiny little flaw: loud, obnoxious sex, well into the early hours of the morning. 

On autopilot, you're clicking through tabs on your bed. Perhaps you're a prude, but the sex noises are abrasive, excessive, to the point of parody. Persistent, Miguel's low voice reverberates in the walls of your bedroom; making heat pool at the base of your stomach. 

"You want it, hermosa? Tell me…. such a pretty girl… like that?" It's muffled, but his voice is unmistakable. Low, greedy, heavy with want. God, the last time someone's spoken to you like that was… 

You shake your head free of cobwebs. No. You're not rewarding him. You can't . Your roommate is shameless, and inconsiderate, and really fucking annoying . 

The smacking noises increase, coupled with banging on his side of the wall. Resolute, your face hardens. From where you perch on your bed, you slam the wall with the side of your fist. 

"O'Hara! Keep it the fuck down!" 

~~~

He's a biochem major, up to his ass in assignments and he still has time for societies, internships and tutoring. 

The only times he'd be in the apartment really was an impromptu session, and you didn't notice at first, but it became more obvious as the semester went on.

As a so-called tutor, he only seemed to pick the prettiest girls - they would twirl their hair on your kitchen counter and bat their pretty lashes at him when they didn't understand. Favours for a couple of friends, is his only response when you ask. 

It felt like you'd open the door to a new girl every week and you are baffled. Donned in makeup and short skirts, they'd waddle in asking for Miggy, or drop off half-finished assignments whilst craning their head through, trying to catch a glimpse of him. 

The absurdity would make you laugh if it wasn't affecting your sleep. 

Not that he's not absolutely gorgeous, but he's so quiet you would never have thought he had it in him: to have a revolving door of women lining up to lay underneath him. 

This time, her name is Sarah: pretty little thing in Miguel's Advanced Math class.  She perches on a stool, wearing a tight dress that is wholly not appropriate for a tutoring session. She's one of his regulars, if you can call it that, and has been failing for at least 2 semesters. You flash her a smile as you pad through the kitchen, searching the cupboards for a snack. God, she is gorgeous; dolled up for another long session with Miguel, no doubt.

"Where's he gone?" She asks politely. 

You shrug. "I couldn't tell you, sorry."

"It's okay… I'm just a bit stuck." You almost snort and catch yourself. For some reason, you didn't think they actually did any work, merely a pretense for the… cardio later on in the day. 

You glance at her sheet of paper, scribbles in purple pen with large swathes crossed out. Leaning over, you scan the page.

"Right here." You point and she follows with a manicured finger. "You fucked up with this integral and I think… yeah, I think that messes with the whole thing."

Her eyes light up as she follows you, explaining with a piece of cookie hanging out of your mouth. She's definitely smart, just a few little mistakes here and there that you're happy to point out. Thanking you fervently, she rushes to correct it. 

"Ah, it's no problem. I get mixed up with it too." You smile and notice Miguel by the doorway, watching with a strange look in his face. You roll your eyes as you walk past. What a fucking weirdo. 

"Thought I was the tutor?" He croons.

You raise an eyebrow, voice low as Sarah is engrossed in her work. "...I don't want to fuck her, Miggy , if that's what you're worried about."

A little cruelly you push past him, shoulders clashing against one another. Is he smiling ? For now, you blame your perpetual tiredness when you think you catch the hint of a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

~~~

You're a light sleeper, and it all makes for a tired, delirious combo. You sleepwalk through the day, scramble to finish assignments and whilst it's not all O'Hara's fault, you can't help but blame him for a lot of it. 

After you successfully get through one long week, you decide to celebrate. That means a couple hours of mindless hedonism: your favourite movie, greasy food…. and your trusty dildo. Not at the same time, of course. 

Miguel's not home, and he's not tearing down the walls with some other girl, for once, so you decide to treat yourself. 

You've been going through a dry patch, and you'd hate to admit it, but he does sound good through the thin drywall. 

It was a joke gift; given to you by a friend for your birthday. An obnoxiously purple dildo with a suction cup at its base. Aptly named Hugh, due to its - ahem - large stature. Standing tall at 7 or 8 inches, far bigger or thicker than any partner you've taken in the past. Sitting around a small diner booth with your friends and opening the bag to reveal him, had been quite the experience, for sure. 

It wasn't your fault you had gone through a dry spell in the past few months. With work, with school, with relationship issues, you hadn't had the time or energy to sleep around. Not that you were desperate for drunk, lackluster sex, followed by an awkward dance of ubers and shitty coffee in the morning. Like many, you preferred to do it yourself. 

Laptop open, you ease yourself onto the toy, already slick with lube. Prepping yourself with your fingers had been quite the task, tabs open to something on a lewd website. It's cheesy, but you didn't really like the bright lights and plastic of usual porn. The moans felt too fake, the sex devoid of any real passion. So you found a couple of independent creators; couples, mostly; carnal fucking with fervour only borne from real love . It's embarrassing to admit it, but your favourite parts are the little kisses and touches in between, or light laughter after a rough session. As if to say: it's okay and I'm still here. 

On your screen now is a longtime favourite video, a broad man bullying his fat cock into his partner. You can't help but think he looks like Miguel, not as pretty but tan with strapping shoulders, and large hands that wrap around the neck of the girl in the video. 

" F-Fuck," You breathe, sinking down onto your toy. You bet Miguel's palm on your throat would be deliciously rough, and you imagine how he'd fuck the brat out of you like the man on your screen. 

What hadn't occurred to you, however, was that the thin walls went both ways. Whilst you were quieter than many of the girls Miguel brought home, you were fairly shameless with the moans and curses that fell from your lips. Headphones on, you were blissfully unaware that Miguel had slipped into the apartment some time ago. The slap of your thighs to the floor, the desperate whine as you roll your hips over the toy - he can hear it all. 

Miguel has a conscience, so he does feel some amount of shame when he slips a hand down his trousers and presses an ear to your shared wall. He closes his eyes and bites down lusty groans, fisting his cock to your pretty noises. Noises he's been wanting to hear from you for months, now, imagining it was you underneath him instead of his usual partners. 

He times it just right, squeezing around his tip in time with the steady slap just beyond the wall. Are you fucking yourself? On your knees, hands flat on the floor, churning up your insides with a toy… or maybe ass up, dildo attached to something…? He almost cums with that mental image, wondering what you'd look like on your knees for him. Is the dildo as big as him? He knows you, knows you'd want it to hurt - for his cock to stretch out your pretty pussy when he cums deep inside you. 

All things he thinks about with a hand around his cock, and he's already close. But he wants to cum with you, listening intently for the signs. 

" Fuck," Your voice comes out muffled, but it makes him buck up into his fist all the same. " Need it… oh God, I-" 

He speeds up, wondering what it would be like to have your thighs shake underneath him, what it would take to have you babbling and begging for more. How would he break you? Maybe on his cock, where he'd watch you squirm as you take his length. Or on your knees, choking around him and licking up his cum. Or, God, thighs wrapped around his head, riding out your high with his mouth sealed on your clit, crying for him slow down, for him to-

" H-Harder, Miguel, please." 

He releases, sudden and intense, spilling white ropes into his boxers. 

" Fuck, Miguel…"

He fucks his fist through it, overstimulated from the way you say his name. It feels like the only way it should be said; spilling from your mouth, haphazard and desperate. Like honey, like treacle; sweet things he didn't know he had the capacity for. He lets that feeling wash over him, panting, bringing his forehead to rest on cool wall. 

~~~

He's hot. He's smart. He's a whore.

A total blindspot for you, and no matter how much you can't stand him; you still find yourself stealing glances whenever he's home. 

And he does seem to be home a lot more, often choosing to study on the dining table rather than his room. It's like he does it on purpose, using the warmer weather as an excuse to wear tiny tank tops and loose gray sweats - showing off the muscles of his broad back and arms perfectly.

Funnily enough, when he's not around those girls, he's bearable - seems to have grown a couple of brain cells in those short few days between sessions. 

You laugh and joke, sometimes, and he surprises you by suggesting a movie one quiet night. 

He offers you his sweater to snuggle into, you eat your weight in greasy takeout, and your roommate seems like an actually decent guy?? 

You had fallen into an easy routine: O'Hara leaves a flask of coffee for you to snatch up in the morning, hair damp from the shower and all, and you meet him with netflix and instant noodles in the evening. A push and pull that works in the little space - much smoother than your rocky beginnings.

After a truly shitty day, you come home to a quiet apartment. Almost sleeping through an exam, forgetting lunch, missing the bus home, and having to trek back through pouring rain in a thin coat. Everything that could go wrong, did, and you are left with the pieces. You trudge through the living room into the kitchen, the wet squelch of socks on laminate floor haunting every step. Shedding your limp outerwear, you lay the contents of your backpack onto the kitchen counter: clumps of loose paper, the damp leftovers of a textbook, bleeding ink. Your main concern, however, is your laptop slick with rain water. 

With baited breath, you put it on the slab, and press the power button. A click, a stuttering whir, and the screen flickers on. Then, just as strained, it putters off. Dead. Completely dead. Your legs almost give out, and you lean on the counter to steady yourself. Half of your life was there; including the final project that would make up a good chunk of your grade. It takes you everything not to collapse onto the floor right then and there. 

"How was it?" You hear the click of a door and Miguel calls out from the hallway. 

You wince."...F-Fine?" 

You hear footsteps, as he gets closer. "Are you asking or telling me?" 

You clear your throat, desperately trying to keep your voice steady. "Fine. It was fine. I'm just… it was fine."

Back still turned, you fumble around with the wet contents of your bag, hoping he doesn't notice. 

"Long day?" He says warmly, head poking into the kitchen. Haphazardly, you spare him a glance from behind your shoulder. He's dressed in a sweater that fits snug around his chest, rolled up to expose his forearms, and loose sweats. In his hands, he drinks from a cheesy mug - your mug, donning a stupid pun. He looks warm. Cosy. Domestic. For some, reason it makes your heart sink even further. 

Long day? "Something like that." You manage to squeeze out. There's a pregnant pause as he comes closer. Rummaging blindly through a cupboard, you try to hide behind its door. If he sees you like this, now, you don't know if you'll be able to hold it together. 

You close the door, and all of a sudden he's there, mug in hand. 

" Fuck, man- " It makes you jump, as he squints and takes a sip of his coffee. 

"You look… wet." 

"That's because it rained, Miguel." Snapping at him, your tone is biting. You're tired, stressed and in desperate need of a cry, but he is unrelenting in his gaze. 

"Are you ok?" He asks, unfazed. 

There's a lump in your throat and all you can do is nod with a tight expression.  His eyes flicker towards the counter and you shuffle, trying to cover up the mess. And then you watch it happen; initial confusion, a flash of realisation, and then worry; all in the space of a couple seconds. 

Gently, he pulls you aside to inspect the damage. "Mierda. This is pretty bad. You sure you're ok?" 

He's got a hand on your arm now,  The dam breaks and you crumple into tears in the kitchen floor. Of course, he comes with you, rubbing your back as you blubber through the details. 

" Nothing's going right for me… and I've got my final project on there… I'm barely keeping up as it is…" All he does is nod, face tight with something you can't quite name. It must seem pathetic to him, you think, shamelessly crying on the kitchen floor, complaining to your poor roommate. He can't leave you like this, because he's a decent person - but internally, he must think you're going crazy. 

It helps, having him there: a steady presence by your side. Slowly but surely, your tears subside. 

"You could've asked me to pick you up." He hands you some tissues off the counter, and watches as you mop up the tears. "I would've come, if you called."

"I didn't… I didn't think we were…" You search for the right word. 

"...friends?" He offers, with a small smile. "You think I let just anyone steal my sweaters?" 

"First of all," It makes you laugh, despite yourself. "You offered. And second, I've seen what you do with your friends, and I don't know if I have the energy for it."

"Ouch." Bashful, he rubs his chest like it aches. He sits a little close to you, knocking your shoulders with his own. "I know this girl who's crazy good with computers. I could ask her to take a look, if you'd like? Might not be able to save it but maybe we could recover the files?"

"...I'd like that, to be honest."

"Muy bien ." He leaps to his feet, palm stretched towards you to help you up. "I'll run you a warm bath or something. You're creating a puddle and it's going to ruin my floor."

"Our floor, asshole. I pay rent here, too." 

~~~

You find that you enjoy being around him, and he feels the same. 

You can't help but compare him to your shitty ex who you were planning to move in with: and even with his quirks, Miguel is better in every way. 

There is harmony in your household, for a while, and you almost look forward to coming home to him after class. Almost. 

It doesn't last long, because of course it doesn't. You'd thought you'd come to a tentative ceasefire, able to casually rib and joke with each other - takeout and B-roll movies aside. He leaves you leftovers from food he makes, you turn down your music when he's studying, and he even woke you up the other day when you had slept through your alarm.

Beyond the wall, his music is loud: a playlist you recognise as the one he puts on to (unsuccessfully) mask the noise of his usual late night adventures. Cheesy love ballads, heady RnB that leaks into your own room. You'd rather die than admit his taste in music isn't horrible, but it usually means a long, long night for everyone around. With finals around the corner, there's no way you can let this stand. 

What kind of person does that? Lull you into a false sense of security with Snakes on a Plane and pepperoni pizza? 

Absorbed in your own work, you hadn't even realised he had someone over; let alone was gearing up for obnoxious sex. You'd bang on the wall, but you feel like you guys are past that: crossed a threshold of intimacy that means you can shout at him up close and personal. 

So you stomp over to the hallway, banging at the door to his room. In the short trip there, you've worked yourself into a frenzy. How many times have you told him to keep it down? That it was rude and inconsiderate to flaunt his sex life in your face; to fuck other women so loud you were practically involved? There was something about the little smile he would give you afterwards, when you catch him shepherding his latest out the door in the morning - like he gets off on it, enjoys it, when you react. Even when you think you're over it, he still manages to drive you absolutely crazy. 

“Miguel? Open the fuck up!"

You're still fuming when the door opens with a click, and Miguel appears in the sliver of the doorway. He opens it so that his frame is half swallowed by the door, top half peeking through with a lazy hand in his hair. And of his top half, he's bare from the waist up, black band of his boxers sitting low on his v-line and loose sweats. 

All the wind is knocked from your sails, and you lose your train of thought. 

"Yeah?" 

"I…" You clear your throat. "I don't care who you fuck, but when I'm doing work-" 

"-I'm not." He chuckles. "There's no one here, hermosa. Just me. And you, I guess…"

There's something about the way he says it, lazily, as if it's his first time saying those words - wrapping his tongue around your name to see how it fits. If it fits, how it tastes. His relaxed posture, the way his hair falls…

"You're high." Your brow shoots up. "... you're high!" 

With a finger pressed to his lips, he grabs your hand and pulls you into his room, eyes darting around the hallway. 

"Shhh! You can't-" Now, he gets close, whispering like he's saying something he shouldn't. "You can't tell anyone. "

"I won't." You breathe. His face is serious at first, and then you're both giggling. You've never seen him so carefree, and it's nice to see Miguel walking around without the weight of the world on his shoulders.

He's still holding your hand, pressed close, and you see him drag his eyes up and down your figure. "You want do something you'll regret…?"

"...I've got a 9am, tomorrow, I really-" 

"-shouldn't?" He finishes, dragging his hand up your bare arm, pupils blown. He gets up to your shoulders, tucking your hair behind your ear. It's sinful, the way his touch is gentle but gaze heavy - violent in the way he practically eyefucks you. You feel bare, in little sleep shorts and a t-shirt.

He steps back, lounging on his bed, and makes for a half finished blunt by the adjacent window sill. Sighing, you sit by him, sinking into the mattress. He pats you closer, dangerously close, and you comply. One arm curled by your waist, the other brings the blunt up close and you wrap your lips around it. When Miguel brings a lighter to the blunt, you lean into it, knuckles brushing your lips. 

You take a drag, long, heavy, eyes closed. And when they open, you're met with his own. Maybe it's the weed, maybe it's the heady atmosphere, but you swear his eyes are low and deep with lust.

"Good girl." He rumbles, cupping your chin and tracing a thumb to your lips. He separates, bringin the blunt to his own lips before leaning back to pass it to you. As quick as he gets close, he pulls away; leaning back into the expanse of his large bed. And he looks good, head drawn back and the curve of his tan arm drawn upwards. Tufts of hair from his chest, the trail that leads down suggestively - and without inhibition, you basically drool over him. God, there it is. You feel it kick in and let it wash over you. 

His music, long forgotten, blends into your downy haze. You want to sit in his lap, rest your head on his chest. You get it now: if this is the view all those women he tutors get to have, then you finally understand. 

"Come closer, hermosa ." You barely register the nickname, only focused on the way he says it, the delicious way it rolls off of his tongue. You nod, and shuffle closer. His siren song sounds sweeter, somehow, up close. 

You pass the blunt between you both, and watch it dwindle to the last dregs. Lying down next to him, he clutches your hand and takes the butt between his fingers, letting its flames die as you watch. You giggle and his gaze softens.

"I didn't expect this from you." You look up to see an upside-down Miguel, hiding a smile. 

"Expect what?" He drags himself downwards, to rest his head by your side. 

"All…" You gesture vaguely. "This. Don't even think I've been in your room for this long, before."

His room looks exactly how you'd expect it: tidy and modest, a row of trophies neatly lined up on a shelf, a telescope pointing out towards a window. There are posters by his bed; science related, mostly. You tilt your head in the direction of one of them.

"Is this what they see?" You mumble to no one in particular. 

He manages to catch it, sluggish in his response. "...Is this what who sees?" 

"All the girls you fuck." It tumbles your of your mouth, before you can help it. 

He tilts his head too, looking at the poster and you watch the sharp lines of his jaw besides you. Even at this angle, he's so pretty. 

"Huh. I guess they do." 

"It's not very romantic, is it?" You blink, oblivious. Your question is met with a noncommittal shrug. "What was her name last time? Cassie, Clara-something…"

"Katie." He hums. 

"Katie." Ignoring the twinge of disappointment at his quick response, you hope it's the weed and not jealousy that made you pretend to forget her name. 

You sit up on your haunches, tracing the valleys and mountains of his bare chest with a leisurely finger. You try not to notice the way he shivers at your touch. 

"I could hear everything. Every, 'Yes daddy'," You feign a moan by curling your lips into an O-shape. You bring your other hand to your hair, head tilted back with exaggerated movement. "And 'right there, Miggy, right fuckin' there' ." 

Technically, you're making fun of him and laughing, expecting him to follow. But he doesn't, head back and eyes boring into you - only bringing a hand to press yours at his chest. 

"Thin walls, Miguel." You clear your throat, sensing a shift in the atmosphere. Too far, probably. "Sorry, shit. I didn't mean-" 

"I hear you too." He says softly. "I heard you, the other day."

Head filled with cotton, it takes a moment for his words to really click. So he elaborates, lacing his fingers with your own. 

"Fucking yourself, hermosa ." He says it lazily, like the vulgarity of the act doesn't register.

Your eyes widen in horror. How much exactly did he hear?

"...and I heard you say my name." 

"It was…. i-it wasn't like that-" Fuck. You can't think straight as it is: and his voice is low and silky, rubbing circles on your hand close to his chest. Even now, he oozes confidence, the steady thump-thump of his heart giving away nothing. 

"Hmmm? Then what is it like?" You blink at him, unable to answer. "You're a hypocrite. You complain about all these women I supposedly fuck, but then-" 

He pulls you closer, so that your lips almost touch his. "-you lock yourself in your room, touching yourself and thinking about your poor roommate. What am I meant to do with you?"

A pause, and in your daze, you can't breathe. For all your theatrics, it's too easy for him - to prod and tease, and for you to chase after him. You move to kiss him, but he grabs your chin at the last second. "Not quite. I want to hear you say it."

"Fuck- " You crumple, hiding your head in the crook of his shoulder. Even in your haze, the nerves bubble up from the base of your stomach. "Fuck me, please , Miguel."

He places a hand on your thigh, leading you to straddle his middle, other hand wrapped around your waist. He grinds your lower half into his, leaning up to bring your lips together. 

He tastes sweet, greedily lapping up your moans in the clash. You're not thinking, not really, lost in the heat of his body, desperate and eager when you kiss. To contrast, Miguel cups your chin, pulling you away for air whenever you sink too deep. Somehow, he still manages to look smug, taunting you with a flash of his little fangs whenever you separate. If you weren't feeling the effects of that blunt, you may have had the means to be embarrassed at how much you want him - needily grinding against him and pawing at his chest. 

It's too slow, too leisurely, like a punishment; and he refuses to give you what he knows you want. Your whines betray you when he finally slips a hand down your shorts. 

"¿Paciencia, hmm?" He grabs a handful of your ass, clothed cock catching on your clit. It rips another moan from you, which he happily swallows with another kiss. "Patience, princesa."

You hump against one another like teenagers, your hands planted by his head for purchase. Hips moving of their own accord, you chase the relief Miguel provides: with his hands kneading your ass, length catching at your clit, and teeth nipping at your bare neck. 

He licks a stripe up your collarbone, soothing the blossoming hickeys with a hum. 

Fuck, how can he be so casual ? You don't know if it's the weed or something else, but he is in his element, hand dipping down your back to graze at your pussy from behind. He hisses when he realises how wet you are, swiping his fingers down your slit and taking them out to pop them in his mouth. 

Now, flushed and face hot with embarrassment, you look up at him with big doe eyes. It makes Miguel feel guilty for stopping you so close to your climax. Beautiful : lower lip hooked under your teeth, plump and swollen and kissable. He'll make up for it later: a promise he whispers into skin. 

"You're soaked." He cups your cheek to press a kiss to your forehead, and all you can do is whine. His gaze dips down, to the swell of your tits in that thin shirt.. 

"What did you think about when you touched yourself?" It's soft, said in the warm press of your bodies; hook-shaped and hazy and you fit like you were made for one another. The thought lingers, plants a dangerous seed that makes you forget that the man underneath you is your roommate : unrepentant whore, Miguel O'Hara. 

"You." You've seen it first hand, he eats hearts for breakfast; and yours is on a platter for him to devour.

He laughs, deep and rumbling, hands resting on your waist. "I know that, baby. You don't have fantasies? Fuck yourself to the thought of someone touchin' you just right?"

Not just someone, him, you think. Your voice dies in your throat at the way he looks at you. "Just… n-nothing really-"

He hums, grinding your hips onto his. "Speechless, I can't believe it. Is this what I need to do to get some fucking peace around here?" 

You roll your eyes, "Don't be a dick, Miguel. When I shout, it's because you deserve it."

"...there it is." Eyes shining, his face stretches into a shit-eating grin. Wide, unabashed, unambiguous. "You back with the living, sweetheart?" 

It makes you laugh, even though you hate to give him the satisfaction. 

"What do you want?" He kneads your thigh and pleasure pools at the base of your stomach. 

You mumble something begrudgingly.

"Hmm? Can't hear you, baby."

Louder, now. "...want to sit on your face, Miguel." 

Lowly, he groans, shaking his head. "Mierda… of course you do."

Expertly, he helps you take your shorts off, dragging the thin material down your thighs. You clambers upwards, wrapping them around his shoulders, watching intently as he kneads the soft skin. It's tentative, at first, and you place your hands on the headboard to perch just above his mouth. 

He licks, diving in with the flat of his tongue: a long upwards stroke that ends with him sucking your clit. Moaning, your hips jump and he chases your pretty pussy up, large palms pushing you back down. He concentrates on your bundle of nerves, lips around your clit like a man on a mission.

And, God, does it feel good; he watches and learns from your every movement, committing your body to memory. His moans vibrate deliciously, tension building at that spot faster than your mind can register it. Then, you clench around nothing, gushing into his mouth whilst he eases you through it. The noises he makes are obscene; one leg off the bed and a hand snaked under his boxers. He's getting off on it; watching you crumple and sob around his tongue. 

And when you begin to move off, thighs sore, he doesn't relent, sealing his mouth on your pretty little hole. 

"Miguel.. fuck-" After your first orgasm, it surprises you when he continues, tongue fucking you with fervour. He presses you close, impossibly close, and your body fights against his ministrations. Heat, everywhere, and it's too much. The haze of the blunt begins to wear off and you are left with biting clarity. You want more of him, deeper; drunk off of just his tongue. 

You card your hands in his hair, and he moans: deep and wanton, with his eyes fluttering shut. He wants to look, to watch you when you cum on his tongue for a second time. Back arched, the curve of your tits peeking through a tiny top, fucking yourself on his face. He wants it hard , wants you to take control and use him to get off. 

"Right there, fuck… "

Like you can hear his thoughts, you press yourself down harder, riding the deep ridge of his nose for relief. Miguel complies and leans into it. He eats you out like a man starved and the carnality of it all brings you to a second peak. You cum once again, legs wrapped tight around his face. Head back, he laps it up readily. 

You separate with a wet pop, and Miguel looks blissful : fucked out and panting, wiping the slick off of his face with a forearm. Exhausted, you lean back onto the mattress beside him. 

"That was…" He searches for the right word, and it's your turn to finish for him. 

"... good. " Scarily good. So good you won't be able to see him around the apartment without remembering what he looks like trapped between your thighs. 

Gently, he turns to cup your cheek and bring your lips to his. It starts off sweet and deepens rapidly, making that thread at the pit of your stomach tighten, again. He grabs your thigh, bringing it closer, and you feel his length poking your stomach. Fuck. 

"You haven't…?" Your hand makes for his trousers, and he stops you. "I want to, Miguel. Want you to feel good too."

His head sinks into your shoulder. "I know, baby, I know. Not like this. Not yet."

You nod, still wrapped up in his arms. You haven't even fucked, and it feels more intimate than it should. 

"You've got a 9am tomorrow." He smiles with a hand underneath his head. 

"I've got a 9am tomorrow," You repeat, sighing. "...and my life is falling apart. I'm failing half of my classes as it is."

He turns to you, lazily. 

"I could tutor you, if you'd like."

…

"That's not fucking funny, Miguel."

_

_

Miguel taglist: @d1lf-loverrr, @afro-hispwriter @ilovemiguelohara @weedxgirlx420 @ladydovahkiin180 @aaliyuh3 @sweetanimebakery @vvitcxen @rosecoloredlenses708 @daikondal @magikmina @impettywhenyouare @alonelygirlsuicidenote @plushyplants @javi0ca @rheeves @starrfruit @nikirikii @marsbars09 @foxglove-grove @mimooyi @crosshairclown @dead-by-light @kynamitedessert @naarra @wanderlustingcastaway @sagejin @cookielovesbook-akie @tangerineloverrr @gobblegluckgluckgod @wolfiepirate @jxxey3 @ebrysteria @elliemm @manchuria @youngghostpeachslime @weasleybuns @ilovemuppets @vauriz @bonbyon @aimno256 @ancientbeing10 @tvije @venus1224idkpleaze @neteyamsbulletwound @chickenjefferson-blog @maki-z @jasjasthings

_

edit: the full fic xx

[chalkscene]

tokyo revengers ⇢ YOU’RE TOO DRUNK TO RECOGNIZE YOUR BOYFRIEND

ft. manjiro “mikey” sano, ken “draken” ryuguji, keisuke baji, takashi mitsuya, rindou haitani, ran haitani & shuji hanma

warnings: alcohol and a very hammered reader. the boys are more responsible than you <3

this is one of the rare occurrences wherein MIKEY actually shares his food. when you’ve finally given up on fighting him for the last bottle of alcohol, you start whining about your sudden hunger so he slides his plate of nachos over to you. he watches you eye it for a second before you drag your gaze up to him. “i have a boyfriend you know?” you tell him, your attempt to be menacing coming out pathetically as the attitude dripping from your tone is dampened by your slurred speech. mikey doesn’t need the club to be well lit. the strobe lights already illuminate your face enough for him to get a clear view of your glassy eyes and flushed cheeks. “i know,” he confirms with a tinge of exasperation, “because it’s me. mikey. your boyfriend.” he emphasizes his last words, his last effort to knock some sense into you but you only let out a cackle which catches him off guard. “nice try but mikey never shares his food.”

“that’s enough.” DRAKEN snatches the last of your many drinks for the night before you can gulp it down. being the perceptive boyfriend he is, he can already hear the complaint that’s about to slip from your tongue so he’s quick to pull you by the wrist, up from your seat and out the door. “where are you taking me?” you ask as clearly as your drunken state can let you—not so much but enough for your boyfriend to understand. “home.” at his curt reply, you yank your hand from his grip with a strength that startles even toman’s former vice president. “what the hell are you doing?” draken hisses lest you make a scene in public. “i’m calling my boyfriend,” you warn him, “bet he can kick your ass.” “yeah? i’d like to see him try.” he dismisses your empty threat, reaching for you once more to guide you to the exit but upon hearing a few whispers from prying strangers who are clearly getting the wrong idea, he stops in his tracks and turns to no one in particular, no longer caring about whatever commotion he may cause as his voice booms over the loud music: “i’m the boyfriend!”

“let me go!” you relentlessly thrash around, yelling out threats of calling your boyfriend, while BAJI—the boyfriend in question—pulls you into an empty alleyway to avoid any possible public humiliation for the both of you. “fuck,” he huffs out a breath, “when did you get this strong?” some time in the night, he’s tuned you out telling him off, on a sole mission to stop you from drinking more than you already have. and he’s relieved he managed to get you out of the bar—that is until he hears a weird noise coming from you. “wh-” baji doesn’t get the chance to utter a single word as you begin to throw up. in a panic, he hastily puts your hair up with his spare tie before rubbing soothing circles on your back. your hair looks real messy, he notes, but that’s the least of his worries. “you feeling better?” he checks on you after a while, only to be met by more retching, making him grumble to himself, “and i get an earful when i drink too much.”

MITSUYA is helping you get on your feet—sweet boyfriend he is—but as soon as you find your footing, you give him a hefty shove. “i have a boyfriend, jackass!” you seethe, too drunk to recognize him, and all he can do is sigh as he regains his balance. “yes. me.” something clicks in your brain at his response and you squint your eyes to get a better look at him. “takashi?” “hi, love.” and just like that, you perk up, your mouth stretching into a wide grin. “taka,” you squeal, excitement coursing through your veins when you recognize your boyfriend, “hiiiii~” he laughs at the shift in your tone and takes the opportunity to slide an arm around your waist once more. “let’s get you home okay?” “mhm.” you wrap your arms around him and he lifts you with ease. mitsuya assumes you’re fast asleep until a few minutes later, you mumble something against his skin, “someone tried to flirt with me but i said no.” a chuckle bubbles past his lips as he adjusts his hold on you. “really?” “mhm,” you nod into his neck as you snuggle closer, “i only love you.” “i love you more.” “love you most,” you reply before soft snores fall from your lips and your breathing evens out.

you’re rambling about RINDOU to rindou himself, going on and on about the reasons that made you fall in love with him. and while you’re occasionally interrupted by your hiccups, he patiently listens to your every word then he hears a “but.” the ways you describe him next are less flattering, less romantic—how he tries so hard to act indifferent to your cooing as if the tips of his ears don’t instantly turn red. or how he has a permanent scowl etched on his face. and other things you already tell him even when you’re sober. “he’s really lucky he doesn’t have any wrinkles yet,” you add with a giggle. “you’re really annoying when you’re drunk, you know that?” rindou deadpans. despite the lack of lighting in the club, he doesn’t miss the shock washing over you, your eyes getting mistier by the second. “what?” your voice comes out shaky and your bottom lip starts to wobble, making rindou release another groan. “for fuck’s sake.”

in spite of your insistence to stay at the club, RAN easily managed to drag you to his car. this isn’t his first rodeo. as an older brother, he has had to deal with rindou when he was blackout drunk. “where are we going?” you mumble as you begin to stir in the passenger seat. “home.” “i wanna see ran.” your boyfriend throws you a quick glance—your eyes remain closed and the rest of your words are incomprehensible—before he focuses back on the road. amused by your drunken state, he plays along. “alright, we’re going to ran.” the stretch of silence that follows is cut short when you speak again, “i’m thirsty.” so ran makes a quick stop at a convenience store, coming back shortly with a bottle in hand. he unscrews the cap before he gives you the drink, “careful.” you take a big gulp, instantly grimacing at the taste and it elicits a snort from your boyfriend. “what is this?” “water.”

“want more,” you slur. across from you, HANMA watches as you clumsily reach for the empty shot glasses on the table, flipping them upside down as if more alcohol will magically appear. he’s not going to lie—he finds it funny. entertaining, even. and if the circumstances were any different, he would’ve even encouraged this behavior. but he’s your boyfriend now and if there’s one thing he truly cares about, it’s you. drunk out of your wits, you don’t notice when hanma slides out of the booth until he’s soon presenting two more glasses to you. even though the contents are the same, he asks you to choose, “which one?” “hmm… that.” before you can get your hands on your drink, hanma intercepts and downs it in one go. you’re about to protest when he throws you over his shoulder and chugs the other drink out of your sight before heading for the exit. “let’s go.”

[aireia]

LOVE... YOU'RE DRUNK. — In which Jing Yuan decides to ask you to marry him while he's drunk out of his mind.

tw/cw: gn! reader, drinking/ alcohol consumption, mild crack, overall so fluffy my teeth are rotting. Beta read? What's that? OOC.

note: Rewritten// reposted from my old account (@ rrxaiky)

“Marry me.” 

“Jing Yuan, love, you’re drunk,” you sighed, taking a small sip of the drink you had ordered. Your lover had one of your hands trapped between his own, and had asked you to marry him with full confidence in his voice. When you opened your eyes to look at him again, you could see the sadness in his eyes, feeling rejected… Before you even rejected him. He let out a yawn and placed his head on your shoulder, letting go of your arms before he circled his own around your waist.

“Look, Yuan- I’m not saying I don’t want to marry you, but you’re not in your right mind right now, so let’s talk about it in the morning, yea?” you gently pulled away from him, carefully setting your drink down before patting his head and ruffling his hair. 

Jing Yuan, however, didn’t seem too happy with your response. He placed his hand on his chest, and dramatically sighed. “You’re quite a cruel lover, my dear. Tell me,” he slurred into your ear, his tiredness slowly getting to him. “Would you marry me if I weren’t drunk?” You spared him a glance and noticed his now half lidded eyes, usually a sign he was about to fall asleep on you and make it your problem.

You pretended to think for a while before responding. “Maybe.” Your response made him frown a little, which earned a chuckle from you. “Okay, okay, fine, I will. Let’s go home,” you added, not wanting this conversation to last until the effects of alcohol wore off. You quickly finished your drink and paid your tabs off before half dragging him out of the bar.

Back in the comfort of your shared home, you sat Jing Yuan down on the bed before changing him into more comfortable clothes– While silently cursing him for one, being drunk, and two, being uncooperative and trying to drag you down and fall asleep right then and there. He’d fallen asleep sitting up by the time you finished, so you laid him down on the bed and covered him with a blanket, chuckling to yourself when he reached over to your side of the bed, a few creases appearing on his forehead when he realised you weren’t beside him.

You headed to the bathroom to take a quick shower before you finally joined him in bed, where he happily pulled you closer the moment you laid down. You felt your eyelids growing heavier and heavier as you brushed your hands through Jing Yuan’s soft locks. 

Just before you fell asleep, you gave your words another thought. Were your words technically an affirmation to him that you’d marry him if he proposed? Okay… Now that you think about it, it was probably best to also leave that thought for tomorrow. Sure, the two of you had been talking about getting engaged, but it’s past midnight, and you just don’t have the energy to think.

Or, not.

“Yuan..?” You mumbled as your eyes fluttered open when you felt something on your hand. Once you adjusted your vision, you could see Jing Yuan holding your hand up to his lips, gently pressing his lips onto your ring finger. He was kissing the promise ring he’d gotten you a while ago, only leaning down to kiss you good morning when he realised you were awake. 

You sat up, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes as Jing Yuan pulled you into his lap, placing his head on your shoulder once again. He held your hand up for you to stare at the pretty band on your finger.

“You said you’d accept if I proposed when I weren’t drunk,” he said, stretching a little before he leaned over to grab something. He then held the box up beside your hand and opened it, revealing a pair of engagement rings.

“So, may I have your hand in marriage, dearest?” He let go of your hand and let it wrap around your waist, bringing your back closer to his chest.

This man was going to be the death of you, you swear. 

by user @ aireia, do not plagiarize and/or translate.

[i2sunric]

I KNEW YOU WERE TROUBLE (s.jy)

pairing: rich boy!jake x reader (f)

summary: you knew jake was trouble as soon as he walked into the party, and despite that, the moment he proposed a deal to you, you sold your heart as you signed the contract.

warnings: making out, kissing, fake dating, bad relationship with parents, smut (pussy eating, fingering, masturbation), fighting, alcohol consumption, mentions of weed and drugs, jake is rich as hell, reader has a nasty personality, curse words, pet names (baby, ma chérie, love), lmk if more. PROOFREAD → READ PART 2

published: 10th May 2024

wc: 6.1k

taglist: (permanent) @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @heelvsted @jwnghyuns @seunghancore (one shot) @anittamaxwynnn @jvjsssnaa @minniejenseo @slut4hee @kgneptun @nyxtwixx @laurradoesloveu @star4rin @capri-cuntz @eneiyri @samouryed @heyniki @ineedsomezzz @nanamongmong @aishigrey @naurrjakeu @ak-aaa-li @sjakewrld @nikiswifiee @koralira-kira @daisycottage @yunhoswrldddd @smisworld [BOLDS COULD NOT BE TAGGED]

a/n: here it is the long awaited jake fic! i don’t really like how it turned out but i thought i already made you wait enough <//3 please LIKE & REBLOG to share! i’d really appreciate that 🎀🎀 also, let me know your thoughts, comment!

You stared at your own reflection in the full-length mirror, the dress you wore was riding a little too high, showing more skin than you usually did.

The fresh polished black nails matching with the inky colour of the dress, a few bracelets and nice earrings made the whole outfit even better.

“Girl, you look amazing.” Your best friend, Yunjin, commented as she wore a matching dress with yours, just in white.

“You look stunning as well.” You complimented her back, blowing her a kiss.

“So, what’s tonight’s plan?” She asked, putting some lipstick on. You sat down on her bed, stretching your limbs “Mh.. Find a nice guy to make out with?”

Yunjin hummed “Thought you were in a situationship with Heeseung?” She asked, mentioning the guy who hosted the party.

“I just needed someone to get us to a nice party.” You smirked cunningly, “You’re truly a bad bitch.”

You shrugged “You need to be smart to live in this world.”

Yunjin popped her lips and turned around, throwing the lipstick at you so you could apply it as well “Yeah, but be careful.”

You raised a brow “Of?”

“The games you play,” She stated, sitting beside you to put her heels on “They are going to backfire on you, someday.”

You just scowled at her, cause why on earth would the Y/N get hurt by a boy? That wasn’t going to happen.

“Jesus..” Yunjin’s eyes widened as she took in the house of the party. It was huge, probably bigger than both your houses combined, the amount of people inside was shocking, all drunken teenagers trying to take a break from the boring world.

“We don’t really belong in this side of the city.” Yunjin nudged your shoulder, “They’re all rich kids here.”

“So?” You entered the house, swaying your hips, already putting your charm to use “Nobody will know.” You winked at her.

The whole house was packed with people, some already drunk and stumbling around. You and Yunjin stayed together, knowing better than accepting drinks from strangers.

You went to the kitchen and stole one cup of punch, the bitter liquid burning your throat— Someone must’ve put more alcohol than it was supposed to.

A few drinks later, your ginger-headed friend was already starting to get out of her comfort zone and she dragged you to the dance floor.

You moved to the sound of the music, your eyes occasionally scanning the room to search for an attractive someone.

As you danced with Yunjin, your gaze fell on one particular guy leaning against the wall, his aura so attractive. He met your stare and didn’t even hide the way his eyes scanned your body, lingering a little longer on your curves.

There it was, your potential interest of the night.

Though, like you had learned with age, you needed to act as if you didn’t care to get boys to care enough. So, you just kept staying by Yunjin’s side, dancing with her and moving sensually, the alcohol in your system making you bolder than usual.

𓆩♡𓆪

You had noticed the way he was eyeing you, occasionally licking his lips or biting his bottom lip. His stare was hungry, so lustful— And you liked it. You enjoyed such attention, so you did your best to maintain them.

Occasionally swaying your hips a little too close to someone else, holding eye contact just to look away before he could. Needless to say, he was as shameless as you, giving you that stare that spoke volumes about how much he craved you.

So, you decided to give him one last, long stare as you smirked before detaching yourself from your best friend and walking upstairs to the bathroom.

You opened the door and loudly closed it behind your back.

Five, four, three— You miscalculated his eagerness because in just three seconds the door already opened behind you.

You saw his reflection from the mirror, his body towering over you, like a dark aura. You smirked “What are you doing, following a lady to the bathroom?”

His lips curved into a small, cunning smirk as well “Don’t act like you didn’t want me to.” His voice was so husky, a heavy australian accent lingering on his tongue, as sweet as honey.

You turned around, the small of your back resting on the countertop, near the faucet. You tilted your head, giving him a fake innocent smile “What’s your name?”

“Jake,” He then asked “What’s yours?”

“Y/N.” You answered. “Well, Y/N.” Jake nodded and stepped closer to you, slowly. He placed both his arms on each side of you. You could feel his warm breath hitting your face “Looks like I’ve got you all for myself.”

You chuckled, a dangerous one “Are you sure it ain’t the other way around?”

Jake raised a brow at your statement, a laugh escaping his lips. So joyful and intoxicating “Maybe it is.”

His finger started caressing your skin, barely touching it, just enough to leave you wanting more “What do you want from someone like me?” He asked, his dark eyes meeting yours “I’m a bad bet, Y/N.”

And lord, if you didn’t love the way your name rolled off his tongue, with the voice of an angel but devil intention.

“I’m not exactly good either.” You stated, your arms wrapping around his neck, your lips so close.

“No?” Jake raised a brow, his big hands settling on your waist, “No.” You stated and brought your lips on his.

He let out a surprised growl and kissed you back right away, so hungry and desperate, like he needed that to release some sort of built stress.

Jake lifted you up, your bare thighs landing on the cold porcelain sink, but you didn’t have time to hitch your breath since his tongue swirled inside your mouth, tasting all of you.

“I’ll ask again,” He murmured on your lips “What do you want from me?”

You caressed the back of his neck, your palm tracing over the little hair he had there. “What do you want from me?” You asked back.

He gently bit your bottom lip, letting a moan escape from you “Hear those pretty sounds.” He answered.

You wrapped your legs around his waist and moved against him, basically jumping him. He let out another deep groan, his lips claiming yours once more.

His whiskey-flavoured tongue licked your lips, one of his hands groping your breasts through the thin fabric of your dress— You had to admit he was rather skilled.

Jake knew where to touch and when to touch, he knew how to drive you insane, leaving your body burning in desire.

Your hands blindly went to undo his buttons, clumsily snatching his shirt open. You let your palms wander on his sculpted figure as his own fingers found your panties.

“Jake,” You breathed out, rocking your hips on his fingers “So eager.” He tsked, letting you grind his hand

But as soon as he was about to pull your underwear to the side, loud knocks were heard from outside.

“Open up!” A male voice said, sounding desperate.

“Fuck off!” You answered, frustratedly letting your head rest on the mirror at your back.

“I need to puke,” The guy outside knocked some more, harshly “Open the damn door.”

Jake cursed under his breath and let go of you, walking to the door before turning around again. He helped you down the counter and winked “Need to help a lady out.”

He then opened the door and the drunk guy threw himself in, reaching the wc. You didn’t want to witness whatever was going to come out of him so you quickly stepped outside.

“What a way to cockblock me.” Jake scoffed and you laughed, patting his shoulder “That’s a shame.”

You started to walk away when Jake hurried after you and took your hand “Where are you going?”

You frowned “Downstairs?” As if it was the most obvious answer.

“So, you’re going to act like I didn’t just stick my tongue in your mouth?” Jake scoffed

“I thought you just wanted a hook up?” You said, titling your head “And I ain’t going to have sex in some stranger’s bedroom, that’s nasty.”

Jake chuckled “But the bathroom is alright?” You shrugged “Better than dirty sheets.”

He then shook his head, the charming smile still on his lips “No, I don’t want just sex.” He pulled you closer by your head, brushing your hair to the side “I can settle with making out.”

You bit your bottom lip and fisted the collar of his shirt, “Bring it on.”

𓆩♡𓆪

A lot more kisses later, you and Jake sat on the grass of the backyard garden. The cold breeze hit your bare skin but even with your thin dress you weren’t bothered one bit, the alcohol in your system serving as a heater.

Your shoulders brushed against each other while you both sipped on two cans of beers— At which number you were, you weren't really sure.

“You go to a private school?” You asked as you were having a small chat with him. You two had been attached to the hip bone the whole night, getting to know the other.

You found out his family was originally from Australia, which explained the heavy accent— and that he was painfully rich.

“Yup,” He answered, popping the ‘p’ “With a uniform.” You grimaced “Don’t tell me you ever wear a blazer.”

The silence following your question made you widen your eyes “No fucking way.”

“Yes fucking way.” Jake chuckled, leaning back on his hands “It’s so ugly, I don’t look as attractive with that on.”

You laughed, “I’d like to see you.” Jake beamed back at you “Maybe one day.”

You got closer to him and whispered “Is your toilet paper made from fifty dollar bills?” At that, Jake let out a heartfelt laugh “I hope you’re not serious.”

“I’m joking.” You waved your hand, taking a sip from the can.

“What about you?” He beckoned at you, “You go to the public school? The one with the weird kids?”

“At least I don’t have blazers.” You gave him a sheepish smirk “And yes— When I go, it’s not like I attend it a lot.”

Faint music was heard from afar, but the only sound you could concentrate on was the giggle of the guy sitting next to you. His dishevelled state did little to hide the handsomeness of his face.

"You really don't give a single shit about the world?" Jake asked, shaking his head as if he could not believe you.

You just shrugged "Life's too short to give a shit." You took a sip from the can of beer "Besides, I'm still a teen only for." You counted mentally "Like, two years, why should I care about anything now? Better partying."

Jake laughed once again, perhaps the alcohol in his system making him feel better about the meeting he had to attend the next day— Shoot, he had completely forgotten about it.

The moonlight shone on your figure, making your skin seem brighter, your hair softer. Jake stared at you like you were a piece of art at a museum, to be worshipped.

His eyes fell on your small dress, a smirk spread on his face; despite knowing you for not over three hours, he felt a deep connection to you, like you could get him.

"Want to go on a date tomorrow?"

Your browns knitted "Wo, wo, wo." You said, placing your hand between the two of you, "Aren't you running a little?"

Jake licked his bottom lip, chuckling "Nothing serious, I just need you to fake being my girlfriend."

At such a statement, your brow raised "Why?" You asked and he stole the can from your hand, taking a sip as well.

You watched as he chugged down the liquid, his Adam apple in plain sight, making you feel a little light headed. He sighed and cleaned his mouth with his sleeve "You're reckless, a free spirit and you look like you smoke weed in your free time."

"Well damn, you got me." You joked, snatching the can from his hands, "You're everything my parents wouldn't like."

"Is that supposed to be a compliment?" You laughed and Jake got closer to your ear. "Oh darling, you bet it is."

You gulped, a shiver running through your spine "So, you just need me to meet you again tomorrow and be your fake girlfriend?" Jake nodded, "At least my acting classes won't go to waste."

Jake chuckled and nodded, caressing your thigh, his thumb brushing against your sensitive flesh "So... Will you help me anger my parents?"

You had no business accepting a drunken offer from the hot guy you made out with at a frat party, getting involved in his family matters and even fake dating him— But what could you do? You loved challenges.

"Deal."

Jake raised a brow “Really? You’d do that?” You just shrugged in response “Not like I have anything better to do.”

“That’s great,” Jake beamed, “And are you planning on going to school tomorrow?”

You raised a brow “Why?” Jake answered, “I’ll come pick you up.”

“You don’t even know what school I attend.” Jake smirked and stole your can again “Guess you’ll have to give me your number to text me the address and your schedules.”

You rolled your eyes “Just say it you want an excuse to fuck in the back of your car.”

“You don’t consider that nasty?” He raised a brow, recalling your previous comment, “Depends, if you can make me forget it with your skills.”

“Want to find out?”

𓆩♡𓆪

“You’re kidding.” Yunjin’s mouth fell agape as she took in the sight of the crimson sport car parked outside your school. You smirked knowingly as Jake waved his hand to you.

“I ain’t, baby.” You raised your brows to her, showing off. Yunjin patted your shoulder “I take back all the bad things I told you when you left me alone— I would’ve done it too.”

You laughed quietly, and was about to step further when your best friend stopped you, taking your hand. You turned around “What?”

“Are you sure you want to go?” She eyed Jake warily, scanning him, “Do you trust him?”

You let go of her hand and gave her a gentle smile “Weird, but I do.” You stated

“You were pretty drunk last night..” She trailed off “Not as much as you, I know what I did and I can tell you, he’s not dangerous.”

She looked at you a little reluctantly before nodding “Okay… Just be careful.”

You blew her a kiss and waved “Call ya later.” And then walked toward Jake. You laughed as you saw his uniform “Not the blazer.”

Jake opened his arms as if to show you his school uniform better “I promised to let you see it.”

You eyed him and then looked at the car, “What a show off.” Jake shrugged “What can I say? I wanted your friends to talk well about you.”

You rolled your eyes at his comments. Jake opened the car door and motioned you to enter it “After you.”

Jake followed right behind and got the car going, “You haven’t told me where we’re going since I need to meet your parents at dinner.”

“To buy a pretty dress for a pretty girl.” He answered, placing one hand on your thigh. The skirt you were wearing exposed your bare flesh — not as much as the day before — and the contact of his cold palm made you shiver.

“You don’t look that bad with the blazer.” You commented, settling yourself better inside the car. It was spacious, the seats were beige leather, and it felt as if the whole car had cost more than any expense you had made in your life.

“No?” He asked, the same sweet tone of the previous day returning, “No.” You stated.

“Why do I need a new dress?” You asked, “I think I have a few in my wardrobe.”

Jake chuckled “Oh, Y/N.” He shook his head, “The restaurant where we’ll have dinner is very… fancy,” He informed you, “And you’ll need a fancy dress.”

You crossed your arms on your chest “So, you just assumed I don’t own one?”

“Do you?” You answered, “No, but it’s rude that you just assumed I don’t have one just cause I’m not as rich as you.”

“That’s not what I meant.“ Jake sighed “I didn’t—“ He tried to explain but you had already looked out of the window, your mood ruined.

Silence fell in the car until Jake parked in the parking lot of the mall. You were about to exit it when you heard a ‘click’. You turned around and raised a brow “Why did you lock it?”

“So you’d listen,” His whole body was turned to face you “I did not assume a single shit, alright?”

You rolled your eyes, not wanting to hear him “Don’t bullshit me.”

“I’m not.” He stated, his stare so serious “I honestly don’t even care if you’re not rich, but I care the stares people will give you if you come wearing something normal.”

“I don’t care about them.” You frowned “Believe me, you will.” He seemed bothered by something. “They’re just… so mean, and I don’t want you to become their victim.”

You tilted your head to the side “But I need to piss them off.”

“My parents,” Jake said, “Not the people in the restaurant.”

You stayed silent a few seconds before nodding “Okay, I’ll let you buy it.”

Jake smirked, “Good girl.”

𓆩♡𓆪

You got inside a shop you had never even dared walk in front of, it smelled like a fairytale and all the assistants wore suits or elegant dresses. They all had the same forced smile and no matter how harsh a client was treating you— The assistant was always wrong.

You bit down your tongue to prevent yourself from commenting on one particular demanding lady who kept shouting at a poor guy who was obviously new and inexperienced and followed Jake into trying a few dresses on.

“Why is this so tight?” You commented, stepping out of the dressing room for what felt like the nth time.

“It’s supposed to be,” Jake said, glancing at you up and down, not even bothering to hide his hungry stare from the worker that was assisting you.

“But I can’t breathe.” You hissed, trying to move in that white dress “Maybe I should change the size?” The assistant suggested but Jake just dismissed him with his hand “No, try the other one.”

You rolled your eyes “Just another one, and then we’re going away.”

Jake raised a brow but then agreed “Fine…” He scanned the dressing room which was packed with so many dresses it looked like a princess’ wardrobe “Try the burgundy one.”

You let out a deep breath and went back into the cabin, fighting to get out of that tiny dress. You stood in your underwear, glancing at the burgundy dress that Jake suggested you wore.

It was fancy and elegant, sleeveless and short, but not too much. You had to admit it was the best one you’d seen so far, so you quickly changed into it.

“Here.” Jake said as he entered the dressing room, closing the curtain so no one could peek.

He helped you zip it up, maintaining eye contact with you from the reflection in the mirror. It felt like a dejavu of the previous night, his gaze so primal and dark.

He fixed your hair back and nodded “You look stunning, ma chérie.”

You widened your eyes at the nickname, Jake lowered to the height of your ear and whispered “Don’t you like it? We need to start acting as a couple if we want to be convincing.”

You turned around “I like it very much, baby.” You added the pet name with a smirk, making Jake chuckle.

His gaze fell on the curves of your body, the dress seeming as if it was perfectly made for you, “Damn Y/N.” He let out a deep groan “You are perfect.”

“Enough with the compliments or I might start to believe it.” Jake ran his fingers on each side of your waist. “You already do.”

You smirked, loving the way he already knew you well “Yeah, I already do.”

Suddenly, he pushed you so your back was pressed against the mirror, making you gasp. He put one hand in front of your mouth “Shh.” He demanded and you nodded.

Jake slowly sank to his knees, his palms grazing the bare flesh near your thighs. The contact made you shiver as you watched with knowing eyes what he was doing.

He slowly hooked the fabric of the dress up, so it rode just above your waistline “Jake..”

“Mh?” He hummed, his nose between your thighs as he smelled your sweet scent “What, love?”

You let out a shaky breath, “Is this some sort of pay back?” Jake chuckled quietly “You could say that.”

He hooked his fingers on the waistband of your panties and dropped them to your ankles, the air of the room hitting your bare core, making you hum.

“Can I taste you?” He asked and you nodded frantically, butterflies filling your stomach as the filthy thoughts of his following actions clouded your mind.

That eager consent was all it took him to lick a long stripe from your clit, tasting your juices. You gasped out and quickly placed a hand to muffle your sounds, not wanting the poor workers to hear the corrupted things you two had going on.

He gave kitten licks to your sensitive clit, teasing your wet folds with his free hand. Your own hand went to grasp his hair, pulling him closer to you, “Hurry.” You whined.

“Yes, ma’am.” He said before attaching his lips to your pussy, sucking on your clitorids. You let out quiet moans, still muffled by the hand you were biting, clearly some marks would appear later.

You pulled his hair and Jake stuck out his tongue, his doe eyes looking up at you. You took the hint and started grinding his tongue, the spongy texture sending waves of pleasure through your whole body.

“Oh yes,” He incited you, “Fuck my tongue, baby.” You gave up on trying to stay quiet and grasped his hair with your other hand as well, not like the filthy sounds coming from him eating you out could be blocked out.

Jake inserted two fingers inside of you, the sudden intrusion causing your body to jolt, if it wasn’t for his strong grip keeping you still you would’ve fallen over him.

Jake took one of your legs and hooked it over his shoulder, your whole pussy stretched all for him as he rubbed your sensitive bud with his tongue.

He started thrusting his digits, speeding his movements to match his tongue and damn, it felt heavenly.

“Jake—“ You gasped out, your moans loud enough for the whole shop to hear “Shh.” He shushed you, pinching your inner thigh.

You let out a soft whimper and chewed on your bottom lip to prevent yourself from moaning. Jake’s movements along with the pornographic scene unfolding in front of you was what took you to the edge, falling apart on his tongue with a loud gasp.

Your body quivered and Jake helped you riding out of your high. He detached his lips from your pussy, a string of saliva keeping them connected. Spit and your juices coated his chin as he got back on his feet, cleaning his face with the sleeve of his suit. “That was amazing.”

You smacked his shoulder lightly, still panting “You’re crazy— They heard us.”

Jake pulled you into a heated kiss, his dirty fingers wrapping around your throat, not adding any pressure, but enough to keep you still.

He rubbed his hard bulge on your stomach, needing to ease the aching feeling coming from it “Don’t act like you didn’t like it.”

You eyed him as he pulled away, your stare falling down to the evident hard on he had. You felt a little pitiful. “Let me help you.”

You were about to get on your knees when Jake stopped you, a warm smile on his face “No, don’t.”

You tilted your head in confusion “Why? You clearly need to fix it.”

Jake hummed “And I’ll do it in the bathroom, because if you want to help me, I wouldn't use your throat, baby.” His fingers traced the outline of your jaw “And I’m sure you don’t want it here.”

𓆩♡𓆪

As Jake helped you get ready and drove to the destination of the mission, you started to believe that was some kind of mockery.

The houses in your neighbourhood were half of the ones in Jake’s, all of them had at least one swimming pool and useless expensive cars.

You scoffed as you drove past them, making Jake smile. He put his hand on your thigh and caressed it “Let’s review what we said.”

You rolled your eyes “Act like a couple and make your parents believe it, just be me and use my sharp tongue to piss them off, possibly have sex later.”

Jake raised his brows in surprise “I didn’t know about the last point.”

You smiled proudly, “I just added it.” You took the hand he had on your thigh and slowly accompanied it higher, almost near your dangerous zone “Like it?”

“I’m driving, Y/N.” He scolded with the same deep voice he used to flirt. Damn, if it didn’t turn you on “And I ain’t doing anything.”

Jake placed his hand a little further “There won’t be any sex if we die in a car crash.” You crossed your arms on your chest “You’re so dramatic.”

He just let out a small chuckle and you two continued the drive in a comfortable silence. As soon as he reached the location, he killed the engine and got out of the car, reaching your side and opening the door for you “After you, ma chérie.”

You shook your head at his pet name and took his hand, walking out the door “These heels are killing my feet.” You complained, stumbling a little.

Jake wrapped one arm around your waist, supporting you. He leaned down to whisper in your ear “You look amazing.”

You shivered at his deep voice, his breath hitting your sensitive skin. “You look like someone I want to give head to.”

Jake let out another deep chuckle and you both made your way toward the fancy restaurant.

He stopped you before you could put foot in it, spinning you around so you were facing him. You tilted your head in a puzzled way, “What?”

He let out a small sigh “Promise me you won’t take anything they say by heart.” You stayed still for a moment before bursting out, laughing “Are you actually worried?”

Jake clicked his tongue “I’m serious Y/N. Whatever they say, don’t mind it.”

You just shrugged “I don’t even care what they say,” You wrapped your arms around his neck, mumbling on his lips “I’m here to help you, you don’t worry about me.”

His grip on your waist tightened, just a little “I just feel like I dragged you here… You were drunk when I asked and—“ Before he could even finish his sentence, you shushed him with your lips on his, licking his bottom lip.

Despite the sudden action, Jake kissed you back, one hand holding your scalp so he could deepen it.

However, you were interrupted by someone clearing their throat. You both pulled away and Jake widened his eyes “Father.”

You gulped down, noting the way his father didn’t even resemble him at all. Jake wasn't tall, but that man towered him by a lot. Jake’s features were soft, his eyes warm as a hot chocolate in winter— while his father’s were sharp, cold as ice.

He took hold of your hand, Mister Sim’s dark gaze falling onto your intertwined hands. “You’re late.” He just stated, monotone.

“Traffic.” Jake answered back in a voice you’ve never heard before— uncomfortable even.

“Seems like you were busy with something else.” His father’s gaze fell onto you, probably trying to intimidate you. You just raised a challenging brow in response.

“Your mother and I have been waiting for you. Hurry.” Mister Sim turned around and walked ahead of you. Before following him, you squeezed Jake’s hand and gave him a warm smile “Mission start.”

The whole restaurant screamed rich, with all those big chandeliers, candles and even a piano in the middle of the room, where a pianist was playing some classical music you had never even heard before.

As you arrived at the designed table, Mister Sim sat down beside his wife. Your eyes fell on the petite woman, looking like the copy-paste of her son.

“Mother.” Jake greeted, bowing slightly out of respect. You did the same, flashing a fake smile “Pleasure to meet you.” Miss Sim just nodded, beckoning you to sit down.

After ordering some food, Jake’s parents started questioning him while your gaze went to the table, noticing the amount of forks on it.

“Useless.” You commented a little too loud, because his father asked “Pardon?”

You raised your gaze to meet his “What do you need so many forks for? Just use one.” You raised one from the table, making him see

Jake chokes down a laugh, earning a warning stare from his mother “You’ve never been to a fancy restaurant, dear?”

You just shrugged, placing the fork down “Not my go to. I prefer some nice burgers, cheaper.”

Jake’s mother made a shocked, almost offended expression “You’ll get fat if you eat such rubbish.”

“So? Fat but happy.” You commented, patting at your stomach. Miss Sim eyed you as if you had just personally offended her.

Fortunately, the waiter interrupted you as he served the plates. In front of you there was a steak (something you couldn’t usually afford), but that same steak was the size of a nut. Literally, it was so tiny.

Jake noticed your expression and leaned down to whisper “We’ll buy a burger later.” You smiled and whispered back “I’d rather you eating me.”

“Whispering at the table is rude.” His mother commented, cutting a small piece of the already small steak.

“What was your name again, dear?” You mentally prepared yourself to be as rude as possible and answered “Y/N.”

“Right, Y/N.” Miss Sim nodded as if she had known your name before, which you knew she hadn’t “How old are you?”

“Just turned eighteen, Ma’am.” You said, placing down the fork “Oh, so you’re the same age as my son.” She flashed you a fake smile, looking like one of those dogs that seem so sweet but bite as soon as you try to pet them.

“I’ve always told Jake to date older girls, you know, they’re… wiser.” You raised a brow “So, you’re saying I’m dumb just because I ain’t older than him?”

Jake’s mother widened her eyes, “Not at all.” You gave her a fake smile “I was just joking.”

She laughed as well. “Of course, you have such a playful personality.”

“Too playful.” Mister Sim commented, clearing his throat “And where do you live? Your parents, what do they do for a living?”

You replied with your neighbourhood and your parents' jobs, earning some concerning stares from the two adults at the table, who were as mature as a two-year-old.

“We will have to start thinking about marriage, Jake will inherit our company.” Jake sighed, “Mother..” Miss Sim started, cleaning the corner of her mouth with the tissue “Do you want to get married? And kids?”

His father then added “Are you two sexually active?”

At such words, Jake fisted his hand under the table. You noticed and put one of your hands on his.

“Why—“ Before he could say something, you talked over “What does that even matter?” You asked, raising a brow.

“That’s my life, if I wanted to get married or have kids, that’s my choice to make. And that counts for Jake as well.” You frowned. Jake took your hand in his and squeezed it to give you support.

“You are two stereotyped jerks, and I’m being nice.” You earned a scoff from Mister Sim “How dare—“

“No, I’m the one talking now.” You snapped, “I’ve been sitting here for one hour, hearing all your bullshit. You rich people disgust me.”

You got up, receiving all the attention of the people in the restaurant, “You’re so stereotyped, you only care about money, get a fucking grip.”

Mister Sim’s eyes widened at your sudden outburst “Don’t you use such ugly words.”

“I do what I want, and I say this dinner is done.” You turned around, but Jake stayed put.

“You choose her?” Miss Sim asked with her best victim voice, ready to guilt trip her own son.

Jake had stayed silent the whole time, watching the scene unfold in front of his eyes. He gulped down, slowly raising his eyes to meet his parents’ “I don’t choose anyone, mother, because I am not ungrateful to turn my back to you.” He said, a sparkle of pride in your chest, “I agree with all she said, though.”

Jake smirked, “Yes, I’m a disgrace, but I don’t give a single shit about it.”

Said that, he took your hand again and dragged you outside.

As soon as you were out, you both stared at each other before bursting into a big and heartfelt laugh “Did I overdo it?” You asked and Jake shook his head “You did a great job.”

He drove you to your neighbourhood, the difference between the place you had just been and the restaurants in your side of the town was huge. It almost made you feel a shame, but then again why would you even need to be? That was your life and you loved it.

After having some burgers to your favourite street food place, making Jake taste your most treasured guilty pleasure, he parked the car in a nearby parking and helped you get out, holding your heels in his hand since you took them off, being too uncomfortable for your used-to-converse feet.

He walked you until your house, stopping as you reached its front. “I should go inside.”

Jake nodded and handed you the heels, “Seriously Y/N. Thank you so much.” He said sincerely, “I don’t even know why you agreed to this, but you said all the things I was too afraid to say.”

He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, then caressing your cheek with his thumb “And you keep this dress. Maybe you’ll need it someday.”

“It costs more than my house.” You commented, making Jake chuckle “But it looks great on you.”

“So… no crazy sex in the car?” You asked and he shook his head “Isn’t that nasty?” He teased you.

“Hey,” You said, faking being offended. “Said the one who wears a blazer to school.”

“Oh.” He raised his hands in surrender. “You win.”

Jake took a hold of your waist and dragged you toward him, pressing his lips onto yours. The kiss was slow, much deeper than a normal goodbye one. It held so many emotions and care, you almost melted right there.

He then pulled away, licking his lips as if to take all the taste of you “Get inside, it’s getting cold.”

You looked up at him, your eyes sparkling “I’ll see you again?”

“Of course, ma chérie.” He smiled, kissing the corner of your lip “I still have to show you my bed skills.”

You chuckled and pushed his chest playfully “I’m much better than you.”

“Can’t know until you show me.” He winked and watched as you headed inside, his smile never leaving his face.

And neither did yours leave, for once you felt the happiest girl in the world, kicking your feet under the blanket and dreaming of the sensation his kisses brought you.

However, you should’ve listened to Yunjin’s warning about you getting yourself hurt in the end, because the next Saturday, when your eyes met Jake’s again at Heeseung’s new party and you smiled ever so sweetly at him— his stare diverted, smiling at another pretty girl, too pretty for your own likings.

And that was where you realised your heart was the shattered one.

[honey-on-your-tongue]

Kinktober day four

Part one here!!!

Sex tape w/old man! Logan part 2

Logan has successfully made you forget about the camera. Then again, he’s sure you’re too out of it to really think about anything anymore.

One of your legs is up on his shoulder, your cunt spread open and stretched out as far as it can. Your body is sore even though you’ve been a pillow princess for the past…You don’t even know how long it’s been.

The thing about Logan is he can fuck for hours. Hours. His healing factor means that his stamina holds out for a long long long time. Much longer than you. Not that you’re complaining, of course.

Logan grunts. He may be two hundred years old, but he fucks like he’s twenty. Between his strenght, his experience and his stamina, he has you like a fucking ragdoll in his bed.

Fuck, he can’t wait to watch the video later, see how cock-drunk you are, how gorgeous you look…

“Baby,” Logan says, kissing your jaw. “You alright to keep going?”

You nod weakly. He’s not sure if you’re aware of what you’re agreeing to or not, and he’s afraid he’s pushed you too far.

He slows his thrusts some. “Words, bub. Answer me in words.”

“Y-yes, ‘m okay,” you whimper out, nodding softly. “‘m okay, Daddy.”

“That’s a good girl. Give daddy a kiss, hm?”

Your lips meet his in a messy, sloppy kiss. You’re almost to weak to do anything besides moan and take his cock, and he’s all for it.

He grunts. He’s made you come about five times, and although he could keep going for hours, his cock is twitching with the need for release.

With expert hands, he reaches between your bodies and finds your clit. He rubs it just how you like it, groaning and gasping as your cunt clenches him tighter.

You cry out something he doesn’t understand, but he hears the word daddy in there somewhere.

“I know, sweet thing. I know. Daddy’s here, ‘m gonna make sure you get yours, yeah?”

Your hands are holding onto his arms, nails digging into the muscles there. Jesus, the things he wants to keep doing to you…But his orgasm is not far and he knows you need a break.

“Come for me, bub. I wanna see that pretty pussy cream on my cock, y’hear me?” he groans.

“Y-yes, yes!” you squeak out, making him laugh lowly.

“Atta girl,” he murmurs as he buries his nose into the crook of your neck and matches the pace of his thumb on your clit to his thrusts.

It doesn’t take even a minute for you to come, gummy walls clenching around him hard, eyes rolling back, nails scratching at his skin.

He follows not long after. His cock twitches as he grunts and growls, almost unable to keep thrusting from how hard you’re clenching him.

He comes hard, thick ropes of his creamy seed spurting into you, filling you to the brim.

You gasp softly and he laughs. “Fuck, that’s so good. This pussy is so good,” he says, his voice hoarse and breathless.

He kisses your forehead, nuzzles his nose against your jaw. “You okay, bub? I didn’t push you too far?”

“‘m good,” you reply between heavy breaths.

Logan nods, glad he hasn’t broken you. He kisses your neck before moving away, pulling his softening cock out of you.

You shudder at the loss and before you can process what’s happening, he spreads your legs open.

“C’mon, baby. Let the camera see how good I fucked you,” he says, moving aside so the camera can get a good shot of your red, soaked, swollen cunt as his come drips out of you.

---

OMFGGGG I’m sorry, if it’s not this, then I don’t want it

Blog masterlist

Kinktober masterlist

[mayanneaa]

hits different - ᴊᴊ ᴍᴀʏʙᴀɴᴋ.

PAIRING : jj maybank x ex!reader

SUMMARY : jj broke up with you two months ago, but this one party makes him truly realize what he’s done.

WARNING(S) : swearing, jealous and super drunk jj, a little angst, fluff, minimal use of y/n (like once), might have some grammar errors, english is not my first language

A/N : first fic on here heheh obv inspired by 'hits different' by taylor swift. i recommend listening to it while reading :) dividers by @roseraris !! not proofread dont kill me

WC : 1.7k

masterlist.

After a fourth beer, the party got too loud and the lights too bright. Normally, in a moment like this, he would run to you, wrap his arms around you, and inhale your sweet, calming scent. Just as he’s about to do it, the realization hits him like one of the waves nearby.

You aren’t together anymore.

He sharply inhales and looks around. His vision is softly spinning, but it’s no problem for him. JJ spots you in a second. With another boy.

You two are just talking. You don’t even know this guy, he came up to you to ask about something so random it got lost in your chat long ago. You give him one of those kind smiles, and JJ feels his fists clench. “Fuck.”

The music changes. As if he wasn’t already miserable, the speakers let out the first notes of your song. The one he first kissed you to. The one you two always played, alone at the chateau dancing on the back porch.

The memories flood his mind, and he can’t take it anymore. Jj feels his heartbeat loud in his ears, and he wants to leave. To go to any of the pogues, or, even better, drive away in the Twinkie. But his eyes cannot move from your face, and his legs just don’t work.

It baffles him. Not once in his life, he couldn’t move on. But this time, with you, it's different. It hits different.

You finally catch him. The guy is still talking to you, but your attention is on the other side of the beach. Before you can interrupt, you see John B. coming up to JJ. He tells him something, grabs his arm, and leads his best friend somewhere. You feel your heart sink. “Are you okay?” you hear the guy ask, making you turn your head.

“I’m so sorry, I have to go,” you quickly say, leaving him alone. You have to find JJ.

“Dude, stop this shit right now,” John B.’s holding the steering wheel, making his way to the Chateau. JJ's taken the passenger seat, shoulders slumped, and he runs his hand through the blonde strands.

"Yeah, easy for you to talk." he snarls, "You and Sarah are all happy together, you don't know how it's like-"

"I don't know because I don't just randomly break up with my girl over a bad day I had." John B. cuts him off and lets out a deep sigh. "JJ, you should talk to her. Everyone's done. You are constantly miserable."

JJ doesn't say anything. The words hit him like a slap, unnecessarily hurtful. Outside the window he sees the familiar place - they are at the Chateau.

"Get some rest, okay?" John B opens the door and helps JJ get in the house. "Call me in case something happens."

The blonde nods his head and plops on the couch, legs stretched out. Minutes pass, and he finds himself whispering your name, over and over again, as if he's scared he'll forget it.

His mind still replays that cold May night.

You two agreed to meet at the dock. The wind softly overflowed your face as you were waiting for him. When he finally came, you felt something was wrong. His usual smile was gone, and he didn't even look at you. You hugged yourself in your hoodie, "JJ? Is everything alright?"

He let out a shaky breath, leaning over the railings. "I think we should break up."

You blinked in surprise, your heart feeling heavy. "What?"

Your voice sounded smaller than you intended. You reached out for his hand, your own shaking.

"It will be better for both of us." JJ dismissively said, swallowing hard. A shiver ran down his body, and his throat tightened, but he brushed it off.

You felt so much hitting you. Tears burned under your eyelids, and anger started to bubble up. Did you do something? Or maybe he just decided you weren't good enough for him anymore?

"No," you whispered at first, but your voice was growing louder, "You don't get to just... just decide on my behalf!"

The moonlight fell on his face, and you tried to find any answers in his eyes. He stiffened, shaking his head before he repeated, "It will be better if we end it now."

You opened your mouth, but not a word came out. The tears threatening to fall finally flooded your face, a quiet scoff escaping your lips. "I can't believe this. This is how much it meant for you?"

You were met with silence. The atmosphere on the dock could be cut with a knife, and you couldn't just stand here. Before you registered it, your legs led you down, far from your boy- well... ex-boyfriend. JJ's eyes followed your every step. He wanted to run after you, to wrap you in his arms and never let you go. But he didn't.

It wasn't just a one-day whim he had. It stuck with him ever since you two decided to make it official. It grew with every late night you spent not on something you like, but on cleaning him up after another fight. You didn’t say anything—but he knew. He knew that sooner or later, it will be too much. He will be too much to handle.

The sweetest girl walking on the earth, a literal angel and him. A failure, a Pogue whose fate it was to end up just like his father—always drunk, always angry.

His heart ached at this thought. You had so many opportunities, and if you decided to let it go because of him, he would never forgive himself.

Breaking up before he got even more attached was for the better. It had to be. Right?

JJ doesn’t know how long he’s been lying like this. His breathing is now steady and slow, and he has to remind himself to breath in again.

He closes his eyes, but can’t escape you. The memories come fast—not giving him much time for defense.

Your face. Always in the sun, glowing as if you were a goddess. The lips glossed from the cherries you’ve been eating. Your eyes, the creases forming in the corners almost constantly from smiling.

Your touch. All these quick brushes, the way you traced your soft fingertips over his forearm every time you sat nearby. The long, tight hugs during which JJ’s hands wrapped your waist, him hungrily inhaling your perfume.

His breath hitches. Is it truly the best this way?

Before he can answer, the quiet crack of a key opens the door. He darts up and immediately regrets it, as the whole room starts spinning.

“JJ?” he hears a soft whisper, and his heart skips a beat.

The warm lights of the Chateau reveal your face. He feels the heat rising to his cheeks, “What are you doing here?”

His voice is quiet, almost as if he’s scared you’ll disappear. You step closer, with a cautiousness that kills something inside him. He avoids your gaze, staring at the suddenly interesting floor.

“You’re not doing great, huh?” you say, but there’s no mockery or anger in your voice. There’s just… worry.

JJ turns around on his heels and sits down on couch, fearing that if he stands for a minute longer, he might just fall. He runs a hand through his hair, a habit that intensified over the two months.

“Stop it, Y/N.” he finally replies looking at you for the first time. The light reflects of his watery eyes, and his voice breaks when he continues, “Go back to the party and your new stupid little boyfriend.”

Your eyes widen. “Are you fussing over me talking to a guy after you broke up with me?”

JJ shakes his head, looking at the floor again, “Doesn’t matter. Not anymore, I guess. You really should go—”

“Why did you end this?”

The question feels like an arrow through his heart. You’re standing with your hands crossed, not planning on going anywhere. “Why, J? We were happy. Did I do something…?”

“It wasn’t you.” In the response, he hears a snort.

Your gaze is heavy, with your eyebrows arched up. “Classic. Then what was it, JJ?” The tone of your voice is pushing, and you don’t even try to control it, “What happened that you decided to just leave me?”

“I was scared!” he snaps before he can think of anything better to say. “How do you imagine it? You… you can’t suffer with me forever. It’ll break you one day and—”

“JJ.”

The way you say his name pulls him out of the spiral. It slips off your tongue smoothly, just like it used to. You grip his arm, and JJ forgets what he was even talking about.

“You don’t get to make this decision without talking to me. Did you ever asked me how I feel about this?”

A blush creeps up on his cheeks, and whether you want it or not, the corners of your lips rise.

He tries to make any sense, the tears dangerously close to falling. “I mean— You deserve someone better. Someone who will keep you safe and… I’m not that person. And I don’t think I’ll ever be.”

You sigh. “Maybe. But I don’t want anyone better, baby. I want you. That’s my decision.”

With these words, with what you called him, his walls crash. You pull him closer, your bodies touching and he can’t take it anymore. JJ lets out a muffled sob into the crook of your neck, gripping you like he’s never letting you go.

Your fingers find their way up to his hair, running through the golden strands as he’s shaking.

“I’m sorry.” he whispers, his voice barely audible. “I’m so sorry. So sorry—”

“Shhh,” You draw small circles on his back, and his breath slows down after some time. “We will talk about it tomorrow, ’kay? You’re super drunk right now.”

“Promise you won’t leave.” JJ sniffles, the tip of his nose pink. You giggle, but he pulls away to look at you, a serious expression on his face. “I’m not joking! Promise me you’ll still be here in the morning. Please.”

You gently squeeze his shaking hand and can’t help but smile. “I promise.”

[bunnyrafe]

omg speaking of bar crawling w rafe…him being ur dd while u get drunk and on the drive home and you just can’t keep ur hands off of him cause he looks soooo good and ur just so drunk and horny u can’t help it…getting fingered on his lap when u get back YUM 😛😛

absolutely drooling for this— i know it was supposed to be bar crawling with rafe but omg... him being your DD on your nights out in general… it’s unfortunately everything i ever wanted ‘n more. but 🙄🙄🙄 rafe is so annoying because his patience for drunk you is thin asf. let us have fun, bitch.

content / warnings -> 18+, MDNI. f / bratty!reader, dom / mean!rafe, daddy kink, impact play (spanking), dumbification & degradation.

rafe has the AC on full blast.

it’s a hot summer night and the way the underside of your thighs are sticking to his leather seats are proof that. it’s ninety degrees and counting even with the sun down but you’re having the time of your life in his passenger seat. wiggling your hips and shouting along to your favorite songs as they blast through his speakers much to his dismay. there’s pineapple juice and tequila on your breath, hidden away by your glittery lips… from the gloss you reapplied in the club bathroom before he picked you up.

girls night was a success despite him texting you every ten minutes. you’d be lying if you said each message didn’t have you grinning at your phone, if you said you didn’t send him selfies every chance you had to take one.

“he know i only wanna come over put it on him— i got that woah-na-na-na. he drink that shit like water. i got that supernova, that super grip, that choker,” you lean over the console as you sing along, and rafe rolls his eyes so hard you think his head may hurt. but his thigh tenses up when you splay your hand over it, rubbing the denim of his jeans and the muscle underneath it.

“you’re done.” he bites out before turning down the music completely, clearly fed up with your antics.

you huff at that, yet your hand travels higher. he looks too good when you’re stressing him out— as sick as it sounds. you wanna push and paw at his buttons until he just can’t take it anymore, and that’s exactly what you do as you nearly palm at his hardening cock while you pout, “ugh… sometimes you’re so mean, rafey.”

“yeah?” he takes his eyes off the road for a split second to look at you and meet your glossy eyes, “you think because ‘m not playing your fuckin’ games for once i’m mean? is that it? you’ll see just how fuckin’ mean i can be, then.”

and he keeps his word. you’re bent over his lap within minutes when you get home, with your little party dress yanked up and slutty panties pulled to the side while you giggle and kick your legs. you earn yourself a few spanks. spanks so hard that your brain shuts down a bit upon the impact and you’re only able to yelp.

“naughty girl,” rafe spits out in feigned disgust once he feels how slick your folds are. your poor cunt has been drooling for him before you even got in the truck, and now that his fingers are slowly circling your clit it’s beyond messy.

“daddy, please…” you whine out, smushing your face in to the sofa cushion in shame.

to your surprise rafe does slip two of his fingers into you, stretching you out and making your lungs burn with how fast you inhale at the intrusion. his fingertips find that one spot hidden in your silky walls so quick, curling slowly and forcing your tongues to curl with them in sync, and your cunt to cream around the digits as a warning for your impending orgasm. all sensitive due to the liquor in you.

you mewl into the material beneath you and a puddle of your saliva darkens it. rafes free hand slaps your plump ass again.

“if you think you’re cumming any time soon, you’re fuckin’ dumber than i thought.”

[lemon-boy-stan]

Genshin men NSFW headcanons

Smut. Headcanons. FEATURING: diluc, kaeya, childe, dottore, xiao, wriothesley, neuvillette x reader. WARNINGS: breeding (diluc, zhongli, wriothesley), size kink (diluc, childe) CNC (kaeya), exhibitionsim (kaeya), knife/sword play (kaeya), monsterfucking (childe, zhongli), sex films (kaeya), corruption (dottore), dumbification (childe, dottore), dollification (dottore), objectification (dottore), torture (dottore), cum play (xiao), size kink (diluc, wriothesley), face riding (xiao), thigh riding (xiao, wriothesley), cock riding (xiao, wriothesley), handcuffs (wriothesley), toys (neuvillette), oral (neuvillette)

MINORS DON'T INTERACT ISTG.

DILUC

Ever since you've been in a relationship with Diluc, he's always been a service top.

Diluc also fucks to make love. Sex is meaningful to him, unless, of course, when he's angry or jealous.

He's a dom, and enjoys being in control, but also enjoys worshipping you.

Diluc only wants to make you feel good

Although he is a Pyro character, so sometimes he might get out of control

When he's really angry or really turned on, his eyes flash dark red.

Diluc is often vocal in sex. He groans alot, sometimes moans, and is always praising how well you're doing for him.

He's always had a breeding kink, but since your marriage, he can't get the idea of kids out of his head.

Diluc also adores the fact that you're so much smaller than him.

Every time he stretches you open you still squeal because he's too big.

He's drunk with how you make him feel, and he knows no one else would ever make him feel this good.

KAEYA

Switch but mostly Dom.

A mean one at that.

He enjoys things like CNC, knife play.

Seeing you squirm beneath him just gets him harder.

He does enjoy to sub sometimes, but you're never completely in control.

Kaeya is also an exhibitionist.

If he gets jealous, he'll fuck you infront of whoever made him jealous; maybe his brother or another knight.

In a modern au, he'd defineltey enjoy making sex films. He'd just love having videos of you all fucked out on his phone, cockdrunk.

CHILDE

Childe is a top, even more cruel than Kaeya.

Unlike Diluc, Tartaglia fucks to fuck.

He has alot of pent-up stress from his job, and he needs to let it out somehow.

What better way than his pretty little traveller?

Tartaglia loves seeing the fear in your eyes when he backs you up against a wall.

He loves how you suck his cock in so well, taking it every time even if it hurts.

Childe is often scared that one day he may hurt you in his foul legacy form.

He disagrees with the idea at first, and it takes a lot of convincing.

But one day, when he's turned, he can't resist you

He is ten feet tall, and his cock is fifteen inches.

He's a bit like a dragon in where the idea what's his is his.

In his foul legacy form, Childe's voice has you under a spell where you do anything he says.

DOTTORE

Dottore is a sadist.

You're just so innocent, and you just love him so much, he can't help but use you.

He loves your pretty blonde hair, and how lost and dumb you are for him.

You're such a good little doll, better than any of his creations.

He'd only ever fucked his creations before, but when you joined the fatui, he knew he felt something strong for you, something warm and different.

While he enjoys torturing you, in his own way, he's showing how much he loves you.

There's only the best for you, the best treatment, the best gifts.

Dottore loves how you're still not used to his fingers, his kisses, his touches.

He loves corrupting you, making you even more obsessed with him, almost brainwashed from his cock.

Maybe one day he'll put a concoction on you, give it to you to drink.

XIAO

Xiao is a major switch who loves to worship you.

He loves being inside you. He gets antsy alot when he isn't.

He's got a high sex drive, so you can count on alot of sex.

He also has the prettiest, sexiest moans.

Xiao loves making a mess of his cum, covering your body in it.

Xiao loves when you ride his face, his cock, his thighs. He can't get enough of it.

He loves you cumming on him, not being able to stop yourself.

Sometimes he'll have his hand wrapped around your throat if you talk back too much.

He also likes somnophilia. Once, Xiao saw you sleeping, and he just couldn't help yourself. And when he heard you moaning in your sleep, it became his new obsession.

WRIOTHESLEY

Wriothesley is a big believer in handcuffs and punishment.

He has many rules, and many repurcussions.

He likes having you helpless, being obsessed with him.

He's a former boxer, so he's very strong

He often manhandles you unintentionally, and his grip is so tight it often leaves marks.

If you're bad, he will cuff your hands behind your back. No exceptions.

He loves how tiny you are, how big his cock is compared to you.

He loves fucking you in the ass, it's his favourite thing to fill you up from behind.

He loves seeing you bounce on his abnormally large cock and his thighs.

Most importantly, he's obsessed when you shove your head into his neck, mewling at how good he feels.

NEUVILLETTE

Neuvillette is a switch who mostly enjoys subbing, and when he doms he likes being on bottom too.

Neuvillette loves when your mouth is around his cock. He'd never had any kind of sex before, and as soon as he felt you around him, he was obsessed.

He loves when his nipples are in your mouth. They're so sensitive, that he's squirming and gripping the bedsheets.

He loves being overstimulated, even if he's on top. When he cums so much that he can't anymore, his voice always breaks and he always starts crying because of how good it feels.

He loves when you use toys on him, he's a pillow princess. Vibrators, plugs, strap-ons, you name it.

He loves to shake of orgasms, and making messes all over you.

ZHONGLI

Zhongli has never had sex with a human before

But with you, he just couldn't resist.

He had to mate with you, make you his.

Don't you know dragons don't share their belongings?

Your scent was just... Different to him than anyone else. Special, perfect.

When he gets jealous, he half-turns into his form, his arms turning black and golden, horns growing on his head, tail forming behind him.

He uses his tail to keep you in place.

Sometimes, he makes you drink the ichor he bleeds, coaxing you into it, purring how much he wouldn't be able to live a lifetime without you.

He's obsessed with breeding you, as dragons mate for life.

Zhongli sees sex as something necessary, and is able to track your cycle by scent. He knows if you're on your period, when to fuck you, when to make love with you, and he knows if you're carrying his children.

GENSHIN IMPACT MASTERLIST

NAVIGATION

[tpwk-formula1]

hello! please may i order thick crust, alfredo sauce, artichokes, broccoli and argula with water and aftercare please served by lando🩵

Lee-Lee's Pizzeria Menu

thick crust sugar daddy alfredo sweet sex artichokes "Imagine your father saw you now. On your knees like a proper trained slut for me to use" broccoli "Made just for me huh?" arugula "I love stretching this pussy out" water breeding kink dessert yes served by Lando Norris

Lando x Sugar Baby! reader

TW - Size kink conversations, terrible representation of a sugar daddy/baby relationship, oral (both receiving), unprotected sex, talks of filling reader up with cum

WC 1800+

AN - I am so sorry this one took me forever! A few of the first few requests got lost amongst the rest and I just found them and will be out within the next couple of hours <3

Y/N POV

"I'm ready to go home," I tell Lando softly while pulling his hand towards the exit of the Monaco shopping center we had spent the last hour in.

We came here with the intention of Lando purchasing some things I had set my eyes on but as soon as we got here we kept getting stopped by fans. I loved watching the joy spread across Lando's face when a different fan would approach him but after a while, I was starting to get overwhelmed.

"You only got one thing, baby," Lando tells me softly but I just shake my head pulling Lando closer to the valet wanting to get into the car as soon as possible.

"We can get it online," I say sharply still making our way to the valet when Lando's car was parked out front. When we hand them the ticket Lando opens the door for me before shutting it softly and climbing into the driver's seat.

"Didn't know you wanted to fuck me that bad," Lando says with a smirk making me scoff and roll my eyes softly at him before cracking a slight smile.

"I don't know how you handle all the people talking to you in public. I'm not even the one they're taking pictures and I was overwhelmed," I tell Lando softly pulling the hand he had resting on my thigh into my hand so I could play with his rings.

"You know you're a terrible sugar baby right?" Lando questions me with a smirk making me throw my head back with a soft groan.

Lando and I had known each other for years and have been close for the past few years, and one drunk night decided to come up with some stupid idea where we hook up whenever we can and in exchange Lando will take care of some of my fiances.

"You pay my rent still," I tell him softly making me laugh a little.

"You basically live in my bed, why the hell would I make you pay rent for a place you're rarely in," Lando says with a light laugh making me laugh a little with him.

"I don't Lando, it's a strange situation. I mean I use your card occasionally," I tell him with a soft smile.

"Baby, you've had access to my credit card for almost a year and I kid you not I've made three payments of less than a thousand dollars each time," Lando says making me scrug. I think this whole Sugar Daddy and Sugar Baby situation was our weird way of covering up the truth of us wanting to be together.

"Would you rather me max it out every month?" I question softly making Lando laugh a little.

"I mean it would make me feel better after the way I destroy your pussy every chance possible," Lando says smirking making my jaw drop slightly at his crude words. Lando just laughs when he sees my face before pulling into the parking garage of his complex and reverse parking into his spot making my thighs clench together slightly from how hot he looked when he was driving.

When we get into his apartment I make my way into his room where I instantly strip down into nothing but my bra and panties before grabbing one of Lando's shirts and throwing it on just wanting to be comfortable.

"Fuck, I love seeing you in my clothes," Lando says from the door making me turn around towards him flashing a bright smile before walking towards him and pulling him in for a soft kiss.

"Nuh-uh, you have some online shopping to do," Lando says while pulling away making me whine.

"After," I beg making Lando shake his head, before climbing into his bed and patting the spot next to him before pulling his laptop out of his nightstand and handing it to me.

We spent the next hour buying all kinds of things such as new kitchen utensils for Lando's apartment so I could stop bringing stuff from my apartment, new clothes, and Lando's personal favorite was the two grand he insisted he dropped on lingerie that he will surely have me model for him when it arrives.

"No more," I mumble pushing away the computer when I saw that his card went through on the lingerie boutique.

"Are you sure baby?" Lando questions making me nod my head.

"Yes, can you please fuck me now," I ask softly giving him my best puppy dog eyes making me laugh yet he still pulled me in for a heated kiss.

I climb into Lando's lap grinding down on his jeans making both of us moan at the pleasure. I could feel Lando starting to get hard which and me shuffling between his legs so I was on my knees for Lando but still in the bed. I watch as Lando pulls his shirt off as I unbutton his pants and slip his cock through the top of his boxers before I take a small lick at the precum dripping from his tip making him hiss at the stimulation.

"Imagine your father saw you now. On your knees like a proper trained slut for me to use," Lando says with a smirk making me lean down to his thigh and taking a soft bite at it.

"Ya but you trained me to be your slut," I say with a smirk before finally pulling Lando's pants all the way off with his help. He also shuffled his briefs down leaving him bare while I was still in his shirt so I slipped it off leaving me in my matching set. I lean back down and pull Lando back into my mouth while I used my free hand to play with my clit making me moan softly around Lando's cock sending vibrations straight to his tip.

" Fuck you were made just for me huh?" Lando groans out the question when I start deep-throating his cock.

I could tell Lando was getting close which had him pushing me back softly and positioning me on my back before he climbed between my legs and started kissing me.

Lando makes quick work of unclipping my bra and discarding it across the room before trailing soft kisses down my neck and chest before giving a quick soft suck on each nipple before he kisses down my stomach where he pulls my panties down and wastes no time in pulling my clit into his mouth and sucking on it.

"Fuck, Lando," I whine wiggling my hips a bit making Lando grip onto my thighs with his arms and continue licking and sucking on my clit.

"So good," I mumble out making Lando speed up his actions and unwrap one of his arms from my thighs before slipping two fingers into my soaked pussy where he found my G-spot with not trouble and starts teasing it and bringing me close to an orgasm.

When Lando realized how close I was he pulls away making me whine at the lost but quickly shuts me up when he pulls me in for a kiss while slowly pushing his large cock into my pussy.

"Oh my God," I moan loudly when I feel Lando's cock graze my G-spot before he hit my cervix once he was all the way seated into my pussy.

"Lando, too big," I gasp when I feel Lando rocking his hips slightly to stretch me out. Lando and I had issues the first time we slept together cause I couldn't relax myself enough to take him without pain, we quickly learned a few soft circles against my clit will do the job if needed.

"I love stretching this pussy out," Lando groans while staring at the way my pussy was stretching to accommodate his size.

When Lando feels he's stretched me out enough he stops his rocking and instead starts softly thrusting making me gasp when he starts hitting my G-spot each time.

"So good," Im mumble trying to keep my volume down slightly. Lando just picks up his thrusting when he realizes I was holding back slightly.

"Fuck," I moan loudly when he starts hitting my G-spot with a bit more force than before.

"You gonna let me cum in you baby?" Lando questions making me nod my head.

"Please, I need your cum in my," I gasp when Lando starts speeding up his thrusts into a perfect pace.

"Ya? You love feeling my cum fill this pretty pussy up," Lando says while bringing two fingers down to my clit where he rubs soft circles on it bringing me closer to the edge.

"You gonna cum for me pretty girl?" Lando questioned while speeding up his fingers on my clit knowing I was gonna need more than just some soft circles.

"Please, cum with me," I beg before pulling Lando's neck down to my face so I could keep his lips on mine throwing both of us over the edge.

"Fuck baby, I can feel you cumming on my cock," Lando groans into my mouth while still rocking his hips to make sure to ride our orgasms out.

I can feel the way his cum is splashing against the tight walls of my pussy making me gasp. I could tell he was unloading a large load that was sure to leak out of my pussy the rest of the day.

Once Lando and I have both calmed down from our orgasms he slowly slips his cock out of my pussy before laying down next to me and pulling me into his chest.

"Lando, can I ask you something?" I question softly making Lando pick his head up to give me his full attention.

"So I've been thinking, I don't really want to keep this dynamic," I tell him softly making Lando tense next to me.

"I want more," I continue trying to ease Lando's anxiety. I instantly feel his body relax against mine making me relax slightly too.

"I want more too," Lando tells me softly making a smile spread across my face.

"I mean, truthfully we've been more than sex and money this whole time. I mean at least for me. I haven't even looked at another girl the same since you gave me a taste of that pussy," Lando tells me making me laugh at his last comment.

"Well, good thing I haven't looked at another guy since you kinda destroyed me anyways," I joke making a smug smirk spread across Lando's face.

"Ya, I stretched that pussy just for my cock. No one will ever be able to make you cum again," Lando says casually as if it was a normal thing to be proud of.

"You're ridiculous," I laugh before cuddling further into Lando's side.

"So it's official?" Lando questions softly with hope laced in his voice.

"You gonna buy me dinner first?" I joke before nodding my head in agreeance.

"I just dropped 2k to watch you parade around in lingerie, I think that beats dinner. But yes of course I'm gonna take you to dinner and much more," Lando tells me softly making me smile.

[pedgito]

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 | Lucien De Leon x reader

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

summary | it was never a favor, allowing him to take up space in your apartment. but, time after time, he finds his way back and somehow, it brings an unexpected normalcy to your life.

author's note | in my heart, it's still flores. but canonically its de leon. i had the opportunity to watch the movie and hot take, it was...alright. but pedro's character made me just as feral as i expected. so here's this absolute monster for no reason other than, well, me ovulating.

content warning | 18+ mdni, the uninvited spoilers, set post-movie, roommates to lovers, enemies to lovers, reader works in the film industry, financial hardship, shitty living situations, lucien is a schmooze and a drunk, but also a sweetheart, angst, feelings, reader has shit luck with dating, there's also smut in here somewhere i swear (oral, couch sex, unprotected piv, all the good stuff)

word count — 11k (sorry lmfao)

“Lucien?” You grumble around the chewy granola bar you’ve snatched from the craft table, “Lucien De Leon?”

The agent, Lucien’s agent—James, also working for a few of the on-set cast, looked hopeless.

He nods, squeezing tight at the phone in his hand, one more inconvenience text from snapping it in half.

“No,” You refuse, chewing at the sweet and sticky granola, “why—why me? My tiny apartment?”

“He’s exhausted any other chance,” The agent explains vaguely—yeah, real convincing, this guy, “listen—I like you, you’ve helped me in plenty of binds. It’ll be two weeks before he’s leaving for work, I just need somewhere to keep him for a while.”

“You’re making it seem like I’d be dog sitting or something,” You retort, watching as the agent glanced down at his phone, notifications spilling in, “this is Lucien—controversy magnet, and he’s rude—”

“You’ve gotta get to know him—”

“The one set I’ve worked on with him he spilled my coffee on me and acted like I made him do it. Fuck him, tell him to sleep on a bench.”

“I’ll pay you,” He scrambles, “Just—please?”

You pause, narrowing your gaze. Being a production assistant hadn’t been the life of luxury, minimal pay in an overpriced city in a shitty apartment with barely decent and affordable rent was nothing short of miserable.

“How much?”

“A thousand,” He offers—a shrug of uncertainty follows.

Silence stretches.

“Two thousand? Come on–that’s a thousand for each week.”

“Make it three and you’ve got a deal.”

The agent is quiet for a few seconds before he caves, sighing heavily, “Fuck, fine. Three. Can I drop him off tonight?”

“Tonight?” You balk, “You know, you’re actually the worst.”

His hands grip your shoulders, shaking you with far too much force than needed, “You’re a lifesaver, thank you.”

He’s long gone and buried in a phone call before you grumble a disgruntled, “You’re welcome.”

-

You consider later that evening that disclosing the recent…activities around your apartment complex would have been a good idea, especially with someone as high profile as Lucien taking up space in your one bedroom apartment.

Three break-ins in the past two weeks, noisy and unruly neighbors both above and sandwiching you—it wasn’t exactly peaceful or safe, but it was something. 

You wait with a creeping anxiety as you tap your chopsticks against the homemade ramen you’ve made for yourself, one true moment of happiness in the day as you’re finally sitting down to relax, feet aching terribly.

It was coffee runs and constant back and forths over forgotten supplies or paperwork—it was the perfect job to keep you active and on your toes, never sure when someone might blow up on you for whatever reason it may be—you were nothing special, helpful, but when it came down to it, you were more or less in the way, so you often made yourself small out of habit. 

The knock that startles you is hurried, like a panic. It sends your heart rate skyrocketing but your name echoes on the other side of the door, scrambling to open the door, you’re faced with two men.

The agent, James, a decent man despite his unorganized and erratic personality—and Lucien, a piss poor disguise covering his face.

You snort, addressing the ball cap and sunglasses with an amused expression, it was doing nothing to cover the instantly recognizable wispy brown hair of his and aquiline nose—the upcoming king of stage and screen. It was a wonder he even made it here in one piece.

“A natural chameleon,” You joke, widening your door to let them inside—the apartment was clean, thankfully. You’d scramble to get home after work and pick up, given you didn’t have much time to actually prepare, “seriously—get inside before someone clocks you.”

The agent stays though, like his feet were planted.

“He’s all yours,” He tells you, “you’ve got my number—don’t let him leave. I’ll check in when I can. Keep an eye out for paps.”

“Hey, no—” You interject, watching as the agent turned on his heels and departed, “we didn’t agree to—”, turning the corner with a shout of a long, helpless, “that!”

You sigh with a deep frown, turning over your shoulder to find Lucien with a chopstick in hand, noodle dangling from the utensil with a curious face, sniffing it cautiously. 

“Hey!” You chastise, plucking the chopstick from his fingers, “Stop that.”

He looks at you curiously, obviously taken aback by your tone of voice and lack of intimidation by him, like a startled cat.

Jesus, okay.

You force a calming breath through your nose and look up at him, “Would you like some?”

“Is it gluten free?” Lucien inquires, peering over your shoulder at the still steaming hot bowl of soup.

“Actually, yeah,” Your brow furrows, “it—it is.”

“Sure,” He shrugs, beginning to remove his cap and glasses, along with his jacket, resting them haphazardly on the kitchen island as he takes a seat on the only other unoccupied barstool in your kitchen.

“Oh no,” You swiftly rectify his actions, “we’re not doing this—there’s a coat rack for a reason and a shelf by the door for things like,” You walk toward the front door, hand circling the object like a cherished belonging, “keys—sunglasses, hats,” You stress the final two words and point at the items before jutting your thumb frustratingly at the door, “—if you don’t mind, while I make your dinner.”

It was clear he’s spent most of the past several years with people ready and waiting on him, never questioning or ordering around, but it was basic human decency, you weren’t going to allow him to be amiss to it.

He obliges quietly, a surprise to you. You hide the satisfied smirk as you pour the broth into the bowl along with the noodles before placing the bowl on his side of the island, placing another dish near him, scattered with different toppings.

Lucien looks silently intrigued, the ends of his mouth curling down in interest as he sprinkles various toppings over his food, beginning to eat silently as you return to your own meal.

After a long enough silence and Lucien’s occasional slurping you decide to set a hard boundary, given the various personalities you’ve dealt with in the industry, it was you being proactive out of habit.

“Let me be clear, I’m not doing this out of the goodness of my heart,” You inform him, locking eyes with his intense stare, something you hadn’t forgotten, not since the on-set incident, “This is still my home. Don’t be an asshole about it.”

“James said you were a firecracker,” Lucien smirks slightly, resting his chopsticks along the top of the bowl, “and a little bit of a bitch, but—”

“Good, he hasn’t lost his mind then.”

“Don’t worry, I’m a professional at this shit now. You won’t even know I’m here.”

Highly unlikely, you think.

He even makes a point by grabbing his bowl and emptying it before placing it in the sink before extending his hand out to your own bowl. You watch him wash the dishes, something that looks unnatural, but you aren’t going to complain.

“You always cook like that?” Lucien asks curiously over the running water, head turning over his shoulder briefly.

“No, only Friday. I never have time otherwise, work is…busy,” A generous way to describe it, but Lucien doesn’t seem to care or question, drying off the last dish before extending his hands out by his side in a grand gesture.

Maybe he was expecting a roaring applause, but you don’t give him the satisfaction. You offer him a genuine thank you but it doesn’t extend beyond that before you’re trailing a few feet over toward the living room, a clean pillow and blanket draped over the couch, along with a fitted sheet if he felt like using it. It was all unmade, allowing him to set it up himself.

“Also,” You clasp your hands together at your front, “James didn’t mention this because I didn’t tell him but we’ve had a string of break-ins for a while now, so—always keep the deadbolt locked. Please.”

His eyes widen, looking around the apartment for the quickest escape. You were on the seventh floor, the only other escape option was a less than reliable balcony that you barely used.

“I have a bat,” You tell him, before pointing toward the door beside the entrance, “in the shoe closet, but I think we’re okay.”

“Think?”

You shrug, “It hasn’t happened yet, but the police have shit response time around here.”

Lucien looks overwhelmed, but nods.

“Oh, and the neighbors like to have really loud sex—walls are thin. Have fun.”

“No puedo creer esta mierda—” He mumbles under his breath as you turn your back, a sharp flap of a sheet, and a short laugh from you follows.

“Blame your agent, Lucien.”

He didn’t think you’d understand him, but your astute hearing proved otherwise. 

Lucien was putting on an act with his gesture, clearly. 

He doesn’t respond, pouting his way through the process of setting up his new bed for the next couple weeks in silence, ignoring the soft click to your door as you turn in for the night, the creeping and soft city noises filtering in through the thin apartment walls.

It wouldn’t be an easy night but he's never really liked big, empty houses anyways.

—

The weekend is uneventful; you fear it might be a dream, too good to be true, a complete fluke.

Maybe he had a change of heart overnight, but Lucien is overly polite.

He deconstructs his bed both mornings, packing it away in a corner of the living room, listening to the television at a reasonable volume with fresh coffee in the coffee pot, he cleans up his dishes and leaves a marginal mess. 

The real kicker—he has the ability to keep the toilet seat down with your now shared bathroom attached to your bedroom, a real…gentleman. 

You eyed him suspiciously most of the day, when he’s unaware and preoccupied, wondering when the facade would drop. Does he even remember the coffee incident? 

He had to, right?

He approaches with a silent gesture of his emptied cup as you fill your own.

Fine—you pull the cup from his grip and fill it to the brim, sliding it back over carefully.

He sips gingerly as he raises it to his lip before speaking, “S’good coffee.”

“Thanks,” You answer nonchalantly, pouring a generous amount of sugar and cream into your coffee and stirring, watching as the dark black lightened into a soft brown, “are you a coffee guy?”

“I’m an anything guy,” Lucien responds, “but—good, it’s good. I’m impressed.”

“Why?” You ask with a little more bark than needed, a flippant tone rounding out your morning irritation as you readied for work. “Are you—you really don’t remember, do you?”

Lucien raised his eyebrows in question, expectant.

“Your last job, up in Hollywood Hills. You spilled coffee all over me, blamed me, then got me suspended for a week, because of your outburst. I barely managed rent that month”

His eyes narrow, recollecting the thought like he’d been stricken with temporary amnesia.

“You’re all so much of the same, y’know?” You continue, sipping generously from your cup as his face relaxes, following your movements with a casual glance. “Cocky, egotistical, little dicked men. Without me you wouldn’t have that ridiculous fifteen dollar hyper whateverthefuck water you insisted you needed in your trailer, or your dry cleaning? God forbid. Seriously, fuck you.”

“Wait—” Lucien staunches, hold his hand up in pause, “hold on—”

You wait for approximately half a second before you roll your eyes, pushing beyond him to gather your bag and keys, “You know, I don’t need a disingenuous apology. I’m not doing this as a favor. I’m being paid.”

James had lied to him, that much he was figuring out as he processed the situation. You weren’t someone offering up free charity, a helping hand for a starving actor in need—except that wasn’t the case for him. Despite his team's careful guidance; he was a repeat offender of bad choices and money management, a part-time alcoholic, and a serial flirt. He knew how to play his hand and he was good at it, but with you—it was clear that you were a challenge.

But, it was only a couple weeks. He could survive that. He was a people person first and foremost and he’d charm the hell out of you if given the opportunity. 

“James said he’d be by in an hour to pick you up for your meetings today—lock the door when you leave. Please.”

Still speechless, he watches you leave with a stiff, crisp shut of the door.

He couldn’t remember, racking his brain for one incident after another. His own fair share made him cringe in hindsight, but he…couldn’t remember. He’d almost hoped you were a fresh face, leaving him free of judgment, but it was clear that this situation was about pure survival.

-

“You did do that,” James confirmed to him as they left the first brand meeting that morning, “It was the morning of the big awards show—you remember?” He doesn’t wait for Lucien’s response, continuing, “Poor kid got her ass chewed out and had to take a trip to the clinic for the burns. It was…a mess. Never cried, though. I’ll give her that.”

And, like a strike of a match, it floods back. You’re shocked expression, mouth slightly agape as the sting of pain settled in, bracing for the impact of Lucien’s wrath because you knew. A man allergic to accountability, oozing power, it was almost too easy.

“Shit.”

“Yeah. Apologies seem pointless now, but it could help. But…be genuine.”

“I’m genuine.”

James gives him a certain look, one that argues otherwise.

“I am.”

Only time would tell, really.

By the end of your work day, it was with great relief as you stepped through the door of your apartment until you remembered one fine detail you had told Lucien more than once.

Lock the door.

The eeriness hits you as the door clicks shut behind you, the place falling into a dead silence for a brief moment, your bag hitting the counter as you maneuvered your keys between your fingers, ready to take on what you could with what little strength you had to offer.

Just maul their face off, that seemed like the best option.

You count the seconds in your head, breath held tight and constricted in your chest. You quickly check the available pathways—living room, kitchen, before slipping down the hall, left with the only room to flee if not away from your apartment.

Bedroom light off, not a thing out of place, pristine even—but your eyes track toward the bathroom light seeping underneath the gap in the door. With careful, measured movements you approach the door although you haven’t thought through the actual process of what you wanted to do.

But, before you can react the door is swinging open as the bathroom is plunged into darkness, revealing a sopping wet Lucien, towel tied tight around his waist as he slings a smaller one over his shoulders, completely relaxed until he spots you.

Both of you scream—you out of anger and fear, Lucien at the incoming hand that he snatches by the wrist, your eyes landing on each other, your nostrils flaring in frustration.

“You’re insane!” Lucien shouts, shoving your hand away, “You nearly tore my face off.”

“I thought you were an intruder,” You seethe, “—what kind of maniac showers with the front door unlocked while home alone?”

“You said you had a bat,” Lucien excuses, “I could have defended myself.”

You sigh, plucking the keys from your grip before you toss them on your bed, stepping away from Lucien and away from the radiating heat of his body as it glistened, obnoxiously.

“Get out,” You snap, “get out—go—”

“I was just gonna…grab my clothes and come change in,” He weakly gestures toward the bathroom, earning a sharp look of distaste in his direction, “alright—alright, Jesus.”

He pauses for a moment, though. Before the lightbulb clicks on and he’s scrambling into the living room and back in record time, shoving a small white envelope into your hands.

“What is this?” You ask tensely, blindly ripping at the seal as you stare at him.

“It’s uh—what I owe you, for the coffee thing. I…I remember now. Figured I could pay you for the work I made you miss…is that about right?”

You peer at the wad of cash. It was indeed, enough.

“You’re unbelievable,” You reply, shaking your head.

It gives him false hope, wondering if it was all going to be brushed under the rug and that he could continue the rest of his stay in a somewhat semblance of peace, but then your expression flips and oh…that’s not…

“Are you physically incapable of saying the words “I’m sorry”—would it kill you? Allergic to accountability? God, you know what, I’m gonna call James and tell him I just can’t do—”

“No,” Lucien panics, hand around your bicep as you attempt to push past him, immediately recognizing the fierceness of his grip he loosens it, calms himself, “no—please, listen…I…I didn’t think you’d care enough to hear it. I do remember now and I was a dick, I was trying to offer a gesture of good faith. Peace, even?”

“Is this even your money?” You ask curiously, brow furrowed as you help up the envelope.

“Yeah, yeah—I pulled it out of my savings. Why? Do you…not want it?”

You quickly snatch the envelope away, “No, I’ll take it. But, words mean a lot. Like calling me an ignorant little bitch.”

“Okay, okay. I am sorry. I had a lot going on and I know that isn’t an excuse either, but I am.”

You tilt your head in examination, peering through the raw emotion on his face, whether he was putting on a masterclass in acting or not, it was believable enough. You could remain bitter, even if it meant suffering in silence, but you liked the peace just as much as he, so you compromise.

“You still have to get out,” You inform him, walking your fingers tauntingly toward the door, “and I swear, Lucien, if you used all the hot water—”

-

Lucien was insistent about rehearsing at least five hours a day, even on weekends. Luckily, most of those days you were spared, but when you’re barricaded away in your bedroom, sound travels. And Lucien doesn't care much to stifle his performance, maybe it was a weapon to backfire at your inconsiderate neighbors, but it was driving you insane.

He’s stuck on one scene, clearly a building tension that explodes and apparently he can’t nail, having heard the lines a hundred times over through the muffled walls—your first instinct was to complain, tell him take it elsewhere, but you remember your deal with James. Lucien just needed a place to stay for a while and this was his job.

Eventually, you poke your head through your bedroom door with a cautious expression, watching Lucien examine his face in the mirror, filing through various emotions before he finally gives up, tossing the script against the counter.

He spots you as he turns, already gearing up to apologize or maybe even excuse—but instead, you speak.

“Is it for an audition?”

“How’d you know?”

“The yelling, the emotion—I guess? I help on set with self tapes from time to time. I’ve learned to spot the difference between just memorizing lines and trying to feel the script.”

Lucien pushes his lips out in thought, tongue rolling over his teeth as his hands settle against his hips, pushing the sweatpants lower on his hips as he stands, deliberating.

“Just ask,” You tell him.

“You any good?”

It was a genuine question, not meant to attack your own ego. Besides, it makes you laugh.

“I’ll get your good side,” You promise him, surfacing from your room as you beckon for his phone with your hand, getting straight to work.

It only takes a few minutes to find a solid place to set up, against one of your cream colored walls, pictureless and plain, but with ample lighting from inside and out, it highlighted the wispy grays in Lucien’s untamed curls hanging over his forehead, the wrinkles creasing there as he looked down at the script and examined the text.

“Do you have them memorized?” 

Lucien nods absently, his finger trailing down the side of the paper until it was suddenly gone, snatched from his hands with a smile on your face as you pointed for him to slide into frame. You take a step back, watching the screen with a careful eye before motioning with a finger for him to move a few centimeters to the left, “There. Perfect.”

You flatten out the creased paper as you speak, “From the top?”

Lucien smiles halfheartedly—the stress washing from his face for a moment—and nods.

–

You could keep up, that much was obvious.

Lucien is used to the monotone voice on the other side of the camera during auditions, forced tones and half-cocked emotion, it was hard to act against and with, but he’s learned to push through for the sake of a role. 

It was an emotional scene, almost a requirement to have that intensity to act against and Lucien caught your eye line at one point, face buried in the script as you uttered the lines with teary eyes, letting your own emotion fill you to the brim and flow out, giving him a real and authentic reaction to act against.

He watched it back with a grin, mostly out of his own cocky admiration for himself but the secret you’ve been hoarding, a welcome surprise.

“Have you never considered acting?” Lucien asks curiously, emailing the video off to his agent.

“Cameras are daunting,” You shrug, folding and filing away some freshly washed towels as Lucien reclined on your couch, “I prefer being behind them.”

“You’re a natural,” He offers honestly, “that’s really rare.”

You shake your head in amusement as you riffled through the unfolded laundry, separating in different piles until you come across a no longer white blouse, stained a soft pink—and of course, Lucien. It was Lucien who offered to take laundry down the night prior, needing a moment away from being cooped up in the apartment, swearing he had it under control.

“I told you not to put this in the wash load with the colors! Look at this—” You held up the obviously stained blouse, crumpling up the fabric and tossing it to the couch with a frustrated huff.

“To be fair, it’s been years since I did my own laundry,” Lucien responds casually, “—don’t worry, I’ll have James buy you another.”

Your face twitches, actually twitches.

“No, no—it…it’s fine. It’s only a shirt,” You tuck a loose hair behind your ear as you heave the towels into your arm, “just—whites and colors, always separate them.”

And while living with Lucien had mellowed out some, it was still tumultuous at times.

Fighting over the bathroom was a regular occurrence, both of you guilty. But, that could be worked through, it wasn’t the end of the world. Occasionally it was the lights, a bad habit of Lucien’s to leave them lingering in his wait, lamps and fixtures, nothing was safe. Opened cabinets, items forgotten and out of place. It was all tedious and frustrating, picking and choosing your battles as they came, brushing far too much under the rub for the sake of peace.

You knew it was almost over, enjoying a quiet night to yourself while Lucien was apparently out at dinner—you weren’t sure, you didn’t really care, but you enjoyed the glimpse of what was to return to you, tucked away on the couch while half-dressed, hand stuffed into a freshly popped bowl of popcorn.

It was Friday and your neighbors never failed to come home from a rowdy night of partying with everything but sleeping on their mind, getting straight to business and your grab for the remote was immediate, turning up the volume to drown out the obnoxious moans and groans of drunk sex happening on the other side of the wall.

Lucien arrives back somewhere near the middle of the movie, the soft laughs from you pulling his attention to the couch as he clocked the nineties rom-com on the television, your cheek resting against your balled up fist, placing his wallet against the counter to signal his entrance.

“Loud enough for you?” Lucien jokes, approaching the singular piece of furniture in your living room, fingertips pressing against the arm of the couch as he takes in your appearance, shirt barely reaching beyond mid-thigh, thick socks keeping you warm as you curled in on yourself, careless that Lucien was definitely looking you make a noise in question, the words processing in a delayed manner.

You reach for the remote, pausing the movie briefly to reveal the reason; the insistent thump of wood against cheap sheetrock and moans, squealy and high-pitched, forcing a raised eyebrow from Lucien that needed no words.

“Nevermind,” He concedes,hands thrown up in defeat with a chuckle hidden behind his teeth, walking closer to examine the screen, filing through his internal rolodex of films and drawing a blank.

“Are you going to keep standing there like a total weirdo or are you going to watch the movie?” You ask with a joking tone, tucking your feet underneath you as you made room, glancing down at your phone as a notification brought the screen to life.

Lucien catches the faint tug of a smile on your face as you type away, clicking the phone into sleep mode a few moments later before continuing the movie without a word.

You’re not sure which one of you succumbs to sleep first, but it didn’t matter, finding that you both aligned together easily as you slept, covered with a blanket that Lucien must have snatched somewhere near without disturbing you—and when you wake in the middle of the night, complex quiet throughout, you can’t even find it in you to move.

–

Lucien’s length of stay was diminishing quickly and you were relieved, only a few more days and things would be back to normal, you’d be three thousand dollars richer, and you wouldn’t have to confront the fact that Lucien wasn’t entirely as bad as he seemed, temper aside.

You’re both on your way out the door on a weekday morning when you spot him, navy blue hoodie draping his body, one you favored because of its size and comfortability.

“That’s mine,” You utter as you’re fisting your keys into your hand and tucking a makeup applicator away in your bag, “that’s…mine—why is it on your body?”

Lucien looks down, perplexed. He could’ve swore…

“It’s mine, I swear,” You’re peering over his shoulder and pulling at the collar, examining the tag by his neck, or lack thereof—you always cut them out, hated the feeling against your skin.

“It’s mine,” You say with finality, “But, it’s fine. I’ve been meaning to replace it anyways. And now that you’ve worn it, definitely.”

“Ouch,” Lucien chuckles, shaking his head at your bluntness, “I guess I deserve that. I did think it was mine, though. Swear. Must’ve gotten mixed up somehow.”

 “Oh, well, just burn it now—oh, shit, before I forget,” You point your finger at his chest, stopping him in his tracks, “I’ve got a date tonight. I’ll more than likely be gone when you get back here. I’m leaving a key under the mat, you know the deal. Respect it…protect it like you give a shit if anything happens, it’s all I have.”

“Date?” Lucien teases, “Sounds—”

“We’re not doing this,” You cut him short, finger raising higher in reprimand, “don’t do that.”

Again, Lucien values his well-being, so he admits defeat. 

It was difficult for him, his eagerness to please and charm, to command the conversation and impress—but with you, it was impossible. Truly, it was mesmerizing to him.

It was several hours later when Lucien arrived at the apartment, pointedly locking the door behind him as you had reminded him several times—he wasn’t completely aloof.

His orders takeout on a whim, disguised under a fake name and the careful directions to leave at the door, having practiced the art of subtly when it came to laying low, enjoying a couple beers from a pack James had bought him as a small celebration for a week of good, decent meetings. 

Things had been looking up recently and it made Lucien unsettled in a way, but thankful nonetheless, sipping at the beer generously and relaxing well into the night, dusk turning to black skies and few twinkling star lights, drowned out by the thick smog of city pollution. It started raining eventually, a soft pattern picking up gradually and he, for natural reasoning, is slightly concerned. So, he stays up despite some lingering exhaustion, barely hitting a quarter beyond eight o’clock when the door handle rattles, soft curses on the other side of the door that send him to his feet, peering through the peephole to spot a sufficiently blurry outline of you.

And what he opens the door to is not what he’s expecting, although, he wasn’t even sure what he was expecting in the first place, but this…it wasn’t it.

You were wet, clothes dripping and rain water pooling at your feet, everything sticking to you like an uncomfortable glue, cold and shivering, your bottom lip trembling.

Without thinking, Lucien shifts into action. 

He doesn’t ask a single question, not at first. Silently pulling the items off of you as you allow him; keys and purse first, clanging against the counter before he’s pulling your coat of, blouse, even kneeling down to remove your shoes before he’s carrying the clothes to the bathroom with you in tow, turning on the shower until it was steaming up the mirrors, heat radiating through the room as you pulled at the button of your jeans weakly, fumbling with cold and feeble hands.

He holds his hands up, careful not to approach in a way that would startle you or force you into attack mode, which seemed unlikely with the disheartened look on your face and he asks quietly, “Do you need help?”

You’re quiet for a long, tense moment before you nod, trying to quell the full body shivers as he assists you in stripping down to your underwear, also soaked. He pulls the curtain back and helps you over the side of the tub with the solid weight of his hand and speaks again despite your silence, “I’ll wait in your room—do you need anything?”

It doesn’t take a genius to piece things together as Lucien settles against the edge of the bed and it angers him for some forlorn reason, a feeling he hasn’t experienced in a long time. When the shower cuts off, he straightens, hesitates—should he leave? 

You’d want privacy, right? Yeah. No, definitely.

He rises to his feet without another thought, his awful timing sending you straight into his chest as you swung the door open, towel snug around your body and smelling sharply of fresh, citrus body wash.

“S-sorry,” You stammer out, “you don’t—you don’t have to wait around, Lucien. Or give a shit, either. I don’t expect you to and I don’t care—”

It was unusually cold. He’s become familiar with your snark, that sharp and cunning personality, but this was different. This was a push, a defense of hard and impenetrable walls building up before his eyes and he speaks without thinking, hoping that it slips through the cracks.

“Regardless, I’ll listen,” Lucien provides—it wasn’t an overwhelming expression of fake, forced care or, god forbid, love. But, it was a raw enough response that it grabs your attention, “—if you want me to.”

—

He cranked up the heat while you dressed, flipped open his leftover takeout, and listened. You weren’t used to this and for a while, you were half-expecting him to find a way to turn the situation on himself, a sob story for a sob story. But, he doesn’t.

“This sushi…” You savor the taste, eyes falling closed.

“Good, isn’t it?” Lucien smirks, popping another into his mouth with careful precision, chopsticks in hand.

You could cry, it was such a strong and startling feeling that it caught you off-guard, “Yeah, really good.”

You clear your throat, tears shoved aside, “Have you ever ditched a date before?”

Lucien shakes his head with a subtle frown.

“Right, Lucien De Leon,” You respond jokingly, that magical emphasis around his name, “any woman would be dying for all of….this,” You gesture to him lazily with a faux disgust that couldn’t even be forced, both of you divulging into a laugh.

“Hey, you said it,” Lucien shrugs with a pointed wink that you shouldn’t find so attractive, but the natural charm he emits makes it impossible, “—but, no. Can’t say I have.”

“Even the ones who wouldn’t put out?”

“At the risk of sounding like an asshole—“ Lucien begins, but you follow the rhythm of the conversation and it isn’t long before the lightbulb strikes on and you’re nodding.

“Right, you probably don’t have an issue in that department. Stupid question, sorry.”

You pluck the last piece of sushi off the styrofoam and chew, speaking behind your hand, “I should’ve known that dude was a prick, only stared at my tits the entire date.”

Out of reflex, his eyes drag to your chest and you click the movement in an instant, “Not helping,” You warn him lightly, “I guess I was too blunt, he kept…touching me. I told him I didn’t feel comfortable going back to his place, he made some excuse to go to the bathroom and I waited for a half hour. Until the server came by with the bill—so, not only did he ditch me, I paid a hundred dollar tab and I didn’t even eat my food.”

Even in Lucien’s wild days, he couldn’t imagine doing that. Not when he was drinking more heavily, partying, hooking up on a daily basis—before his first failed marriage, it was foreign to him. 

“You could’ve called me, or James, shit—an uber.”

“Phone died,” You shrug lamely, “it doesn’t matter, anyways. And don’t get me wrong, casual sex—it’s fine, but I got too hopeful, I guess. All men are the same.”

“Come on,” Lucien jests, “that’s not fair.”

“Fine, enlighten me, then.”

“You can’t expect fairytale shit—I mean, I’m one failed marriage and plenty of missteps in my life. Do you think I’m a bad guy?”

“Do you want me to answer that honestly?” 

Lucien sighs in defeat, scratching at his mused hair as he tosses the empty food container aside.

“I’m fucking with you,” You offer in a quieter tone—even if you weren’t friends with him, he didn’t have to put in the effort to help or listen, but he was, “I’m—just, thank you.”

“I’m in good graces now?” Lucien asks curiously, that playful mischief gracing his face with a smile.

You make a motion with your hand from your head as you grab, like pulling a thought and throwing it away, “Coffee incident? Forgotten—unless you pull some heinous shit.”

“You know, I might actually miss this,” His finger does a swirling motion, encompassing your living room, “you—eh,” a shaky hand motion that earns a jab to his thigh from your foot, “shit, ouch—that was a joke.”

“I know,” You concede with a smirk, “—I won’t, though. I want my couch back. And my bathroom.”

“If it makes you feel better, I think you’re a catch,” He tells you, “although, I do like the ones that bite, so—“

You reach forward this time, swatting playful at his chest with the back of your hand, but his fast reflexes beat you, your fingers smacking into solid rings.

He snickers softly and examines the grimace on your face as you pull back, “Pobrecita,” He coos mockingly, reaching for your hand and pressing a gentle kiss against the skin, “see what I mean?”

You ignore the heat that strikes through your body like a freshly lit match, pulling your hand away with a distinct eye roll. 

He’d be gone soon and this would all be a ridiculous memory to think back on. 

There was no room for newly evolving feelings, or worse, infatuation. 

—

The three months you spend falling back into your normal routine is monotonous, safe, but the kind of security that has you itching for change. You find yourself checking on Lucien more often than you should, regular social media checks, the occasional subtle question to James when you happened to catch him on set. It wasn’t healthy, but you couldn’t help yourself. 

He did seem more erratic, often coming across other quick clips and social media stories of him at the club during waking hours, pure reckless abandon, he was having the time of his life—you couldn’t blame him, but it was…slightly alarming.

It was a Saturday night when all hell broke loose, police sirens raining down the street as you raced to your open window, peering down at the obscured face of a man in cuffs as he was roughly shoved into a police car before there’s a pounding knock at the door, your heart nearly bursting out of your chest at the sound.

Turning on your heels and swinging the door open, you can’t help but find yourself speechless at the sight.

“Think they caught your burglar,” Lucien notes under his baseball cap, eyes catching the cascading red and blue lights outside your window, duffel bag at his feet and a regretful look on James’ face.

You tilt your head at the discovery, your brain working overtime before your eyes widen.

“Just hear him out,” He pleads with prayer like hands, phone sandwiched between two begging palms, “Lucien—go,”

Lucien seems to stutter-step in his mind, not expecting to be the one leading this proposition as he side-eyes James, “I…need a place to stay…again,” Lucien squints his eyes and stares up at the ceiling, looking almost embarrassed, “for the next six months.”

“No,” You nearly shout out incredulously, “the first time wasn’t a trial run.”

There’s a long moment of tense eye contact and uncertainty.

An underlying worry in your gut at the sight of Lucien, a little worse for wear but still mostly himself, gripping tightly at his carry-on bag in his hand, thumb rubbing nervously at the leather strap.

Goddammit.

–

He’s paying the entire six months of rent he planned on staying there while he filmed for a movie they were shooting a short ten minute drive from your complex, a quaint little studio gracious enough to let the crew film free of charge—he’d given you the whole spiel, in one ear and out the other still wondering how you’ve tangled yourself in this web again.

“Can I just ask you one thing?” You inquire, helping him file away some of his clothes in a drawer you had emptied out for him like this was normal. He makes a soft noise of acknowledgment with his lips pursed together, tired sunken eyes staring back at you, “Why not get your own apartment? A house? I mean, you’ve got the money?”

Lucien clears his throat, scratching at his neck where it jostles his chains, fingers slipping under the silk fabric of his shirt, “I, uh—feel weird…livingalone,” He rushes out, quickly turning to grab more clothes as you stand, hand placed against the top of your dresser as your brow furrows, feeling like you’d just fallen deaf.

“Come again?”

A small huff as Lucien passes a stack of expensive shirts, material that had to be ethically sourced or…some bullshit like that, he’s told you the story before in passing.

“I don’t like living alone, ‘s why I float,” He offers lamely, tossing the empty duffel into the corner of your room—you’d pick it up later, it didn’t matter, “I left all my old stuff to my ex-wife, it was easier that way.”

Often you had to remind yourself that Lucien was older, nearing his late forties while you were still managing through your late twenties, a big thirty on the horizon.

It dawns on you then that you don’t know much about Lucien at all outside of tabloids and gossip sites, the rumor mills running through Hollywood—you often find yourself reminding you of the fact he was still a person, with troubles, clearer now more than ever.

“It wasn’t always like this,” He assures you, “I’m a fuckin’ mess, I already know.”

“I think we’re beyond judgment, Lucien,” You assure him, “You saw me sobbing and nearly naked—just keep this place clean, like you give a shit about it, alright?”

Lucien nods dutifully, “Yes, ma’am.”

–

You learn quickly that his long term stay meant that little quirks were beginning to surface—always organizing your things out on the sink opposite of his own, a small gesture that didn’t go unnoticed when you were rushing out the door on days he wasn’t given a call time. Or how he always made sure there was food waiting when he arrived before you—takeout or not. He wasn’t a great cook, but he could manage.

In turn, you tried to cook more often. And he loved to hover, but not with a homey, warm feeling that made you feel safe, rather like a curious dog nipping at your ankles. And more so, he would finish his own plate before looking cautiously at your own before you nod, allowing him to pick from your plate with a greediness that made you giggle under your breath.

“My ex-wife never cooked,” He had told you once, “I mean, she tried—but she was terrible. And this,” His tongue pokes at the inside of his cheek as he steps at the homemade ravioli, “is there anything you can’t do?”

“Say no, apparently,” You gave him a solid once-over, a look from head to toe—he’s never offended anymore, taking the playful jest in stride, it had already been a month and it was beginning to feel like normal, again, having him there.

Your conflicting schedules meant a lot of time away from each other, which wasn’t bad. It almost helped more than you expected and while your apartment wasn’t well-fit for a roommate, Lucien made the place feel less empty.

You couldn’t say it out loud, but you were starting to understand the charm. You could see beyond the facade and the persona—a troubled man with ambition, purpose, but a mountain of struggles. The drinking wasn’t a surprise, nor his uptick in smoking. He always smoked out the window so the smell wouldn’t permeate, but the drinking started to become…an issue. 

It wasn’t that Lucien couldn’t handle himself when he drank, but he often did it to fill the dead time—so he said—when you were still at work, fighting with his own demons in his mind. He always ended up on your bed those nights, curled up in a fetal position at the wrong end and you couldn’t find it in yourself to move him, draping a blanket over him before you decided to spend the night on the couch. It was a weekly occurrence after a while, slowly growing in frequency.

He always apologizes, tells you he won’t do it again, but eventually you find yourself melding around him, sleeping in a way that keeps you comfortable and doesn’t disturb him. You don’t judge him, don’t think any lower of him—but there was concern and Lucien could see it growing with every passing conversation as the weeks dragged along. 

By the third month, the dam breaks.

You don’t sugarcoat anything for him either.

“Do you need rehab?” You ask bluntly, watching him peel the gold-flaked under eye patches from his face, shoulder leaned against the doorframe, “Or, like, therapy?”

“I’m not an alcoholic,” He defends, washing his hands under the warm water, “I can get sober if I wanna, but it helps with the stress, you know?”

“No,” You respond honestly, but softly, “I don’t. Unless this is just some big excuse for you to sleep in my bed, which if it is—”

Lucien chuckles, toweling his hands dry, “You caught me.”

“You would tell me if it was getting bad, wouldn’t you?”

It seemed like the least he could do, considering how greatly you were carrying the burden for him by allowing him to stay in the comfort of your own home, treating him like a human. You ignored the tabloids anymore, always negative and nefarious toward him, like he wasn’t allowed to make a few mistakes along the way. He had to be perfect, given his troubling start in the industry. DUIs, cheating, eventually settling down to marry but that didn’t work out great for him either—you’d done some research lately, out of pure curiosity to understand what he wasn’t always willing to share, but you preferred to hear it from him.

Lucien squeezes at your chin in a comforting manner that makes you grimace in feigned disgust, forcing a gentle laugh through your nose as he answers, “Yes, I would.”

–

When he should, he doesn’t. 

Award season was approaching and work was hectic, Lucien had wrapped on his next project and his previous one was gearing for a big release and line of promos, which meant Lucien had to be on his game.

The lamp in your living was broken, a shattered glass bottle on the floor beside it, a trail of clothes following to your room and a heat in the apartment that was sweltering in a way that had you stripping down immediately to the thinnest layer you could manage without getting to your underwear, jeans and a thin strapped top as you walked barefoot toward your room.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting or hoping for, but it isn’t this.

He’s naked, completely bare, save for the blanket draping his groin to save his modesty, out cold but skin obviously clammy, reeking of alcohol and sweat and you can’t help scrambling to the floor, unable to form any type of tangible sound. You check for a pulse, fearing that you might have just found yourself in an inescapable scandal, but it was there. That soft thump, thump, thump under your fingertips before you press the back of your hand to his skin and despite the sweat, he’s cold. He must have sweat out most of the alcohol in his system, your eyes dragging to the forgotten bottle on the ground.

You sigh, eyes falling closed as you gather your thoughts. You devise a plan, slow and methodical—first was to clean, grabbing the clothes and broken glass from the ground, leaving no trace of his mayhew before you’re returning to your room and straight for the bathroom, immediately turning on the cold water, the stream forceful as it pushed through the showerhead.

“Fuck,” You curse to yourself as you glance at Lucien who is mostly dead-weight, struggling to understand how you can get him from one point to another—with another quiet huff you approach him, shifting until you can get your arms under his armpits and heave him up, blanket falling from his waist as you yelp, eyes shooting toward the ceiling as you continue to drag his slumped body toward the tub, “okay—god, Lucien, you fucking owe me.”

It takes some maneuvering and the unbelievability that you are so incredibly close to his bare ass and dick in a way that most would fall over backwards for, regardless of the situation—it felt wrong, seeing him in such a manner and so completely helpless, but you shove the thought aside as you finally get him in the tub, the cold water waking him almost immediately.

It starts with a gasp, a sharp tug of the curtain and coarse, “Shit,” that assures you he was alive and well, coherent, even. A small smile tugs at your lips as you hear him let out a string of curses before he finally settles.

“There’s a bottle of water and some Advil on the counter—take it,” You instruct behind the curtain, “I’m going to grab dinner—try not to hurt yourself, please.”

He doesn’t acknowledge you, not that you expected it. And it doesn’t take long to grab the food either, calling it in and driving there and back in about twenty minutes, finding Lucien freshly showered and sitting on the stool near the counter, eyes telling a story of exhaustion but his insistently bouncing leg telling another.

“Chicken or steak?” You ask nonchalantly, holding the styrofoam containers in both hands.

He takes a moment to answer, unsettled by your calmness, “...steak.”

You hand it over without a question, grabbing a couple drinks before you’re digging in, standing opposite of him rather than sitting, eating in a silence that grows, thickens.

“It’s quiet,” You note the obvious before you scroll through your phone, searching for a soft tune to play through your speakers, something to fill the air, “better—how’s the food?”

“I like it,” Lucien responds with a full mouth, somehow endearing as he swallows and sips at the second water you offered him, attempting to help keep him hydrated, even if it was still annoyingly hot in your apartment, “—I…I think I broke your AC.”

“You did. I’ll put in a work order for it to get fixed,” You answer, a solution to the problem, “are you okay?”

If Lucien was being honest with himself, he can’t remember the last time anyone has asked him that—not genuinely, anyways. He falls silently, biting at his bottom lip in deep thought as his eyes squint, poking quietly at his food.

Talking was hard, you understood that. But, you hoped there was some trust built between you in the past few months, that you hadn’t laid your vulnerabilities out bare the night you came home rain soaked without the ability for him to share too. Plus, he’d broken your favorite lamp.

“It’s complicated,” Lucien diverts, but that doesn’t stop you, eyes lying in wait as you laid your utensil down to listen, “—I’ve got two kids. One, he’s eighteen…awesome, awesome kid. His name is Raynor. I didn’t meet him until a few years back, I’ve been tryin’ take make up for that. We even went on a roadtrip a couple summers back.”

Lucien fiddles with the cap on the water bottle idly, speaking further, “I, the other, my daughter, she’s a couple years old—it was a crazy night with a co-star,” You clock the information immediately, knowing who he was talking about without the confession, and he knew too—it wasn’t exactly a well kept secret in Hollywood as Delia was now married, to another co-star, raising that child, “a long story for another time, but we’re going through this nasty court battle.”

It would explain his financial situation a little, his willingness to take roles as he could, but the growing stress on his face as weeks passed, the tendency to hide or ignore the situation rather than face it—you understood, to a degree. 

“So, all the drinking? The transiency?”

“It just helps,” He shrugs—helps him forget, temporarily, before it all comes barreling back at him, “she wants to revoke shared custody—she’s got her more anyways, with my work and everything, but she wants to deem me unfit, make it—” Lucien’s throat tightens, exactly why he wanted to avoid this conversation entirely, “she wants to erase me and the moment the press gets wind—”

All hell would break loose. 

“Lucien, I don’t think it works that way,” You assure him, even if your knowledge was slim, “there’s…that's your right, she’s your child.”

“Given my history, the judge could consider it,” Lucien replies lackluster, ashamed, “look—I’m sorry to dump this shit on you, I fucked up your apartment, I can find another place to stay and I’ll pay out the rest of the rent like I promised.”

You look at him with a gentle expression, tilting your head until his eyes finally rise, “I asked,” You remind him, “and I hated that lamp anyways, so you did me a favor,” It was a lie, but given his emotional state it was acceptable, watching as he forced a weak laugh, “I’m not kicking you out either, if the media publishes anything about it, you hunker down here. I can deal with a few paps, you know? We do work in the same industry, after all. I may not understand the full scope but I do understand, Lucien.”

He returns a look with sad, red-rimmed eyes as you reach to clean up your shared dinner, before approaching him with a careful few steps, a hand gliding over his bicep and your fingers rubbing at the small dip in the back of neck, your first real initiation of genuine touch. He was a touchy person himself and seemed at ease by the feeling, your lips coming to press a soft kiss against his cheek. Kind, friendly, you pat at his back.

Something changes between that touch and the look he gives you as he turns, eyes flicking toward your lips out of desire, silently he pushes logic aside and leans forward, pulling your chin into his hand like he has before, a familiar touch followed by a foreign one, plush lips against your own that has you swimming in a mix of emotions, eyes falling shut briefly before you realize what was happening, lips parting slightly as the tip of his tongue touches your own before you’re ripping away, eyes wide.

“Oh my god,” You utter out, wishing the words had stayed inside of your head, “I, uh–I’m—”

You stutter relentlessly before you’re scrambling toward your room, door falling shut with a soft click as you sink into your sheets, heart racing uncontrollably and your hands covering your face, unable to face what you had just escaped from as a knock comes a few minutes later on your bedroom door.

You couldn’t face him. You couldn’t.

Eventually, he leaves. Slow footsteps that eventually lead toward another door that closes too, unsure of where he was wandering off to, but you couldn’t think about that, not with the conflicting, battling emotions in your head and chest, a startling yearning coming from just a simple touch.

He was everything you despised—somehow finding level ground, adoring him, caring about him, it was never supposed to go this far. He started as an inconvenience, a disruption to your life…and now, you weren’t sure you could imagine it without him there, in some form.

It takes a couple hours, already deep into your slumber, but the dip of weight in your bed startles you for a moment before the movements stop, the strong press of a back against yours, and an unspoken security that pulls you both under quickly.

He’d gone out drinking again, but at this point, you couldn’t blame him.

–

He awakes to a sweet smell, distinct and fresh. And air, cool air. It can’t be dawn, the sun is too far in the sky to be early morning. Lucien rises with a heavy grogginess, rubbing at his eyes as he finds his footing and walks toward the living room of your apartment, finding your back turned to him as you fiddled with the buttons on your AC as you bid someone goodbye, a man carrying a toolbox descending toward the hallway.

He gears up for an apology, the words balancing on the tip of his tongue.

Suddenly, you’re in front of him, two filled mugs in hand, coffee just the way he liked.

 And Lucien doesn’t know when or why the feeling overtakes him, but he kisses you again. It isn’t a simple peck. It was full, all-consuming, feet lifting off the ground type of kiss.

No, literally—you rise to your tiptoes as the cups jostle in your grip as two large, warm hands curl around your back and his lips melt against your own, earning a starling gasp that slips through slightly parted lips, followed by his name after a moment too long.

“Coffee, coffee,” You mumbled quickly, “hot—burning, my toes,” Lucien pulled away quickly at the words, watching as the tan liquid pooled at your feet before he rushed to clean up the mess.

You watch with an amused expression before you finally hand the cup of coffee over, “Good morning to you too, I guess,” You smirk, biting down on your cheek to stifle the laugh that was fighting it’s way out, “please don’t tell me you’re still drunk.”

“I need to apologize,” Lucien tells you, “...again—I’m—I’m sorry for kissing you—again, like that, assuming that was something you wanted. I got pulled into the moment—”

You’ve had all night and morning to think it over, mulling over the emotions and feelings, still not quite sure, but you couldn’t help the swirling feeling of nervousness that had grown more frequent in Lucien’s presence, his looks, his flirtatious nature and touches. You were under his spell completely.

And if you didn’t want to kiss him, you would have stopped him.

Besides, you didn’t want to be the bearer of more bad news after his terrible night, having been let go from your job position that morning, no notice—you were still reeling, but didn’t want to burden Lucien with the news.

You needed something else to occupy your mind.

“Drink,” You instruct, taking a seat on the couch as you sip at your coffee in silence, watching as Lucien mirrored your actions and sat at the opposite end, legs out-stretched and his chest on display, tanned skin with neatly trimmed chest hair, soft tummy leading into the charcoaled, stretchy lounge pants leaving little to imagination as he fidgeted in his seat.

“Where’d you go last night?”

Lucien’s face immediately flushes with guilt, “The—a bar. I didn’t drink. I swear, I—”

He makes a small noise of frustration and closes his eyes, “I did something stupid, I needed a distraction, alright? I shouldn’t have kissed you, that’s not what you wanted, I know that.”

With a silent reservation, you press the coffee cup into the table in front of you before slowly make your way toward him on your knees before you pluck the half-empty mug from his grip and return it to a similar spot, feeling a surge of bravery as you climb onto his lap—there’s some underlying stupidity there, you think. But, fuck it.

“You don’t know what I want,” You assure him, fingers dragging along the top of his head before you’re tugging at the stands to tilt his head back, kissing him soundly, sweet dark roast on your shared breaths as you lick into his mouth, the opposite hand pressed flat against his bare chest. It takes a while, but eventually his brain catches up, along with his movements, and his hands curl around your bare thighs, fingertips grazing the silk shorts you wore to bed the night prior, like butter against your soft skin as his fingers climb and dig, pressing into your skin as you continue to discover every inch of him he had to offer—mouth, tongue, neck, chest.

It was a dormant hunger that had awoken after careful thought and pure primal need, tired of waiting things out for perfection when you had something tangible in front of you.

He’s mumbling your name softly as you lean into him, the bottom of your lip dragging against the tip of his nose as he pulls you away, strong hands encompassing your face as he looks at you, searching your glazed over eyes, “What are you doing?” He asks, apparent concern.

“Distracting you,” You tell him, immediately diving back in to kiss him, nipping at his chin playfully, a shaking sigh falling from his lips, “are you distracted?”

He chuckles weakly, “What happened to me being a cocky, egotistical, little dicked man?”

“I can go back to hating you if you want,” You respond, nipping at his ear before you pull back to look at him, so close you can feel his breath against your lips, “If you’re into that sorta thing.”

He could see in your eyes that you needed this too, a way to shut your brain off for a while, months of failed dates you’ve told him all about, in detail, he can’t help but chuckle at your eagerness, stifling a groan as you core grinds against him, cock stiffening with the movement.

“Maybe,” He’s undecided, “we’ll see how this goes.”

You smile wide, feeling a surge of pride as he returns the kiss more fully, a hand twisting around the back of your neck as he kisses you fully, all wet and uncoordinated but it makes your heart flutter in excitement.

“Let me taste you,” He begs, clawing at your top in an attempt to get his hands on your skin, pushing up the fabric as you follow his movements, top off, stripping your shorts down along with your underwear, an eager Lucien gripping at your hips to maneuver you down into the cushion as he hastily shoves the table away with his feet to make room for him on the floor, no reprieve as he hooks your legs over his shoulder and splits his tongue through your folds, licking up the center.

A man of his word, he tastes. Noisily he licks and prods, tongue dipping inside of along with wandering fingers, sucking gently at your clit until you’re yanking at his hair, hand curling over the back of his scalp, fingernails digging into the top of his back, moans spilling from your lips like a flowing river, the rapids rushing through, walls clenching around nothing but cool air as Lucien parts from you, admires. 

He’s got two hands on your thighs to keep you open, “Wider,” He coaxes, your breath quickening as he squeezes at your thighs, “right there, don’t move.”

He shoves his pants down his hips, the heel of his palm rubbing down his shaft as he wraps his fingers around his cock, jerking himself off at the sight of you, glistening and eager, your fingers digging into the cushion fabric—you’ve seen him before, naked, in starkly different context. 

But, he had nothing to be ashamed of, your eyes counting the faint splattering of freckles on his chest as his hand glides over his cock, tugs, thumb sliding over the tip to spread the precum down his shaft and you don’t hear him calling your name until his hand touches your skin, gliding over your knee as he taps, coming to with a weak, “Huh?”

Lucien laughs under his breath before he’s beckoning you closer, pushing up with your palms as he cups his hand under your chin and asks—no, demands, “Spit,” He tells you, following his order without missing a beat, the saliva dripping into his hands as you push it past your lips and he moves closer, knees settled on the plush rug in your living room, guiding you until your ass was nearly hanging off the couch and using your saliva to aid the tug of his cock.

“No condom,” You quickly interject, slightly out of breath. His mouth opens like he wants to respond but you quickly shush him, “we can avoid the spiel, I’m on the pill.”

Lucien shrugs with a cocked smile, “Just checking. You alright?”

You nod eagerly, dying for a reason to shut your mind off.

It was the perfect angle, his hips just level enough with your hips that he slid in with ease, adding his own string of spit into the mix as rubbed it down your cunt and pushed his cock inside—deeper, deeper, the head of his cock sliding against your folds teasingly as he rocks his hips until he’s fully flush inside of you.

Your anxious hands are taken hold by him, curling around his wrists instinctively before they’re being shoved over your head and against the back of the couch, his towering frame leaning over you as his hips piston you at a bruising pace, deep enough that it aches. It’s been long, so long and you feel pathetic for already wanting it so bad, core pulsating with an insatiable need.

His breath is hot, wet against your skin as his teeth graze against your breast, sucking the skin between his teeth as you gasp, “Louder,” Lucien coaxes, “let ‘em hear you. Think they deserve it after all they’ve put us through.”

You laugh at that, full-body and airy, eyes falling shut as Lucien plants a foot against the floor, changing up the angle to an intense degree, his cock slipping out briefly as he adjusts, catching glimpse of the string of shiny slick that connects you both before the thick head of his cock pushes back in, a soft squelch of admittance, a tell-tale sign of your obvious enjoyment.

If he knew this would shut you up, he would’ve tried seducing you months ago—though, he had a feeling the attempts would be futile, he was floating on his own cloud of disbelief that after all his wrong-doings, his missteps, it hadn’t pushed you away.

“Show me—huh, show me what you like,” Lucien pleads through baited breath, hair sticking to his forehead from the sheen of sweat, his own hands leaving yours with the silent promise that you wouldn’t move them, finding purchase underneath your thighs and pushing them up toward your chest, your fingers gripping around the back of the couch in desperation, “touch—touch yourself, show me.”

The drag of your hand is slow, but eventually your fingers hover over your cunt, pressing against your sensitive clit as you circle, slow and intentional movement that rips a loud moan from your chest matched with his pointed thrusts, feeling his stamina weaning as he watches, hips stuttering.

“You’re a fucking dream,” Lucien admires, “makin’ a damn mess, too. You hear that?”

He slows down on purpose, partially for his own benefit but he’s proving his point, that sticky squelch of arousal, his faint grunts mixed with your quickly rising moans.

“Does it make you nervous when I stare?” He asks curiously, eyes locked on your pussy, watching his cock split you open, gripping him and pulling him back in eagerly with every thrust, “Look at me—answer me, baby.”

There’s something so distinct in the way he says it, laced with an addictive drug.

Your eyes peel open, bleary behind near tears and you shake your head.

“Do you wish it did?” You counter, earning a subtle head shake from Lucien as he pulls out.

A moan of disappointment leaves your mouth before he’s quickly jostling your around, chest against the couch, his hand spreading wide over your back as he bends you over, fisting his cock as he feeds it back into your greedy cunt, the swollen head making you gasp as it pushes through your over-sensitive folds.

He uses the leverage as his hand climbs, gripping at your shoulder to pull you up, bracketing your body into the couch with a knee at your side, pressing you tight into his chest, his hand sliding around to your chin and turning your face to his, lips parting as he fucks you with a newfound ferocity, eyes rolling back so deep you aren’t expecting the fingers that find your clit, circling the senstive nerves until you’re tipping over the edge, soft encouraging words pulling you through your orgasm like a gentle wave, his fingers slowing down as you resurface.

He comes soon after, his hips stuttering out of pace again as you lean forward, feeling him pull out at the last possible moment before he’s painting thick strips of come against your lower back, the fingers of his left hand digging into your skin as he grabs you tight, the tip of his cock sliding against your ass.

You collapse with a content laugh, oblivious to Lucien searching frantically for something to clean you up before settling on one of the kitchen towels, your body slumped lazily against the couch and sighing when you feel his warm touch, the words slipping out on their own accord, “I got fired.”

“What?”

He tosses the dirty towel aside and passes over your clothes, pulling his own lounge pants back up his hips, sans underwear—and it makes you curious how often he does that normally, comfortable as he takes a seat, legs spread wide as he settles into the cushion.

“They called this morning,” You explain easily, pulling your top over your head and maneuvering your panties and shorts back on, “wouldn’t give me a reason, but it doesn’t matter.”

Lucien’s brow furrows in thought, rubbing his thumb against his fingertips out of habit.

“Is this one of those situations where you’re gonna ask if I’ll sign an NDA?” You half-joke.

He shakes his head almost immediately. He doesn’t seem to find it amusing, almost slightly concerned—or wounded?

“Come work for me,” He insists, “I’ve been needing an assistant.”

“Isn’t that a conflict of interest?” You ask him, staring at his flush chest and mused hair, evidence of rigorous sex all over his face, it was almost enough to have you confessing some unspoken feelings, but you weren’t that easily broken down.

“It doesn’t have to be.”

“Are you just trying to find a reason to stick around longer?” You tease him, a smile peeking out behind your tired expression, “Because it won’t work.”

“No—I’m serious about getting my shit together,” Lucien promises, “I might need a little help…but I want to.”

“Can I think about it?” 

Lucien nods, hands dropping to his lap as he fiddles with a ring on his finger, eventually trailing toward the chains around his neck before his head is popping up, a quizzical look on his face.

“Wait—was that because you were having a bad morning?”

The sex, he means.

A smile breaks out on your face, “Nothing an orgasm won’t fix.”

He can sense it isn’t the full truth, but he doesn’t pry.

“Damn straight,” He chuckles, both of you falling into a comfortable silence.

–

Your answer doesn’t come for a solid week, thinking over the pros and cons. It was complicated, indeed bound to be messy if you allowed it, but Lucien was promising to double your pay, no undermining, no hovering—it seemed too good to be true.

But, you were taking the risk.

Lucien was still awaiting the imminent release of the court documents, the storm of press, but when you were secured in the safety of your apartment, hidden under the blankets as Lucien clung to you, head buried in your chest and his cock still buried inside of you, a slow and lazy day was what he needed, but he also craved you—and he was addicting, impossible to deny.

“We can’t keep doing this when I start working for you,” You remind him.

“Who says we can’t?” Lucien asks curiously, adjusting his hips as he slides deep inside of your cunt, peering up at you with soft eyes, “We keep it casual, if we decide we wanna stop. We stop. It won’t affect your job. I’m not that much of a dick, baby.”

“Well, for starters, you can’t call me baby at work.”

Lucien nods dutifully, listening to you divulge into a long lists of hardset rules, eventually pulling your focus back to him, his hips moving at a slow but gradual pace until you can’t focus any longer, giggling loudly as he buries his face into your neck, a sufficient end to the conversation.

The rest could be figured out later.

-

dividers: @/saradika-graphics

[crimsonbubble]

Head Full of Stars

cw. nsfw, afab omega!reader, alpha!hongjoong, heat/rut, possessiveness, overstimulation, strength kink, tummy bulge, creampies, breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy, pussy drunk joong, scent kink, marking, praise *not proofread, just pure horny

[I wrote this fic with my pussy bruh like it’s pure filth] I took an a/b/o test before this and got omega 🧍🧍

His rut is getting closer, you can feel the air around him get heavier. You were lying in bed when Hongjoong came home earlier than he said he would be. He crowded your space with no remorse, heat rolling off of him in waves.

The energy in the room shifted as he was sent into full throttle with his rut. Your senses are beyond overwhelmed; trying to adjust to the amount of alpha hormones radiating off of him but the only thing it’s making you do is produce more and more slick. You shudder under him, core pulsing with the need for a knot, his knot, your alpha’s knot.

Hongjoong buried his nose in your neck, taking deep inhales of your scent. It makes him dizzy, uselessly rutting his throbbing cock against your drooling pussy. You cling to his shoulders tightly. Hongjoong rips your and his clothes to shreds, stuttering out apologies as he rubs his cock through your slicked folds.

You whimpered pathetically as you watched him rub his cock through your slick. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, ‘mega. Need you, need you now-” Hongjoong leaned back, hooking your legs over his elbows. He hurriedly pushed in, bottoming out immediately. He tried to hold still to let you adjust but your pussy was so fucking tight and warm around his thick cock.

Hongjoong started with shallow thrusts, increasing his speed embarrassingly fast as his instincts took over. Hongjoong’s nails dug into your thighs as he used them as leverage to pull you into his hips. You whimpered at the familiar burn of the stretch. Hongjoong’s cock may not be proportionate to his height and built but it certainly lives up to his title as an alpha.

Normally he’d demand eye contact but he can see that his cock is fucking any sense of coherency out of that pretty head of yours. But it’s okay, Hongjoong loved to fuck the thoughts out of you; he thinks you look the prettiest when you’re taking his cock. Hongjoong can feel himself losing it, but he can see that you’ve already lost it.

You’re letting yourself get taken with the pleasure, doing what you do best; lying pretty and letting your alpha take care of you. Hongjoong growled low in his throat as he inhaled your scent again. He lapped over the mating mark on your neck, rocking his hips even harder. ‘Mine’ That’s the only word replaying in his head.

Hongjoong has you damn near folded in half, drilling his obscenely thick cock into your aching cunt. “Alph- ah-!” Your sweet voice made him groan, his eyes following the way your hand slid between your bodies. Hongjoong could feel his knot grow, catching around your pretty and stretched hole.

He watched you press against the bump he made in your lower stomach, his eyes rolling back as he felt the pressure inside you grow. “My sweet omega, my pretty girl. You want it?” You don’t know how Hongjoong dares to tease you right now but it makes you throb nonetheless.

“Want my knot? Want alpha’s knot?” He chuckles softly, his usual teasing smirk on his face. You whine more at his teasing, pressing harder against the bump in your stomach. Hongjoong falters slightly, reeling his hips back before driving in again, letting his knot slip in too. Your back bows deeply, coming around his cock with a mewl. Hongjoong lets out a shaky breath as he pulses inside you.

You’re breathing is laboured, uselessly pushing at his chest. Hongjoong lets your legs fall to his sides, cradling your face gently. “It’s okay, ‘mega. Just relax, pretty.” Hongjoong watched as you tried to steady your breathing, guiding you through it as he sneakily trailed his hands down your body. His fingers traced over your clit.

You started thrashing immediately, your nails digging into his shoulders. Hongjoong remained still, your needy omega state far too weak to move Hongjoong in his now pussy drunk state. He continued to play with your clit, moaning at the way you clenched around his cock. He had subconsciously let more of his scent ripple off of him, as he felt your body getting warmer the more he played with you.

Hongjoong pressed his mouth to your neck, painting dark hickeys across your skin. You continued to squirm, body too sensitive to know what it wants. Hongjoong gently pinched your clit between his thumb and forefinger, feeling his knot finally start to deflate slightly. He inhaled your scent again, the smell flooding his senses. “So sweet, my pretty mate,”

Hongjoong licked at your neck, gently pulling his hips back. He can feel your body shudder against his, pressing his chest to yours as your pussy leaked his cum. Your scent has now clouded his mind, driving him further into his rut mindset. His lips curled into a snarl as he pushed back in, continuing his pace from before. His thrusts got harder with each push, more pheromones rolling off of him as he buried his cock in you. Hongjoong mumbled into your neck, a possessive growl rumbling from his chest.

“Pups. Needs to give you pups. Need you big and swollen with my pups.” Hongjoong can’t stop the images of you with a pretty bump, carrying his pups. “Gonna look so pretty. Gonna give me strong pups, right? Give alpha nice, strong pups?” You dumbly nodded, whimpering as each thrust drives more cum in and out of you.

You’ve lost count of the orgasms you’ve had but it doesn’t matter as Hongjoong continues to lose himself in you as he babbles nonsense. Hongjoong’s flooded your pussy with more than he’s ever produced in his life. The only thought now, in the forefront of his mind, is to knot, knot, and knot. He needs to knot you again.

He needs to feel you stretch around his knot, needs to feel your pussy wrap around his knot, needs to cum in you one more time. He feels like another useless alpha know only knows how to pump and dump but you wrap yourself around him so tight, letting him sink into you one more time.

[animasola86]

🐺 A FILLING EXPERIENCE

knotting!dildo x f!reader 🔥 very explicit 🔥 words: 9.8k

You were a little drunk and very horny when you browsed the website looking for a new sex toy. When your order arrives, however, you feel like you did something very wrong. Or did you? Maybe it'll grow on you? (Not sure that's a good thing, though.) Prepare for a wild ride.

WARNINGS: NSFW! Explicit sexual content! Sex toys! Possessed sex toys. Masturbation. Knotting. Referenced werewolves. Referenced A/B/O dynamics. Possession. Vaginal sex. Breeding. Memory loss. (READ ON AO3!)

A/N: The prompt was "knotting, masturbation, sex toys". The pairing is what it is. For a reference picture of the star of the show (aka the dildo) check it on AO3! (Also, very surprisingly, but this is not an ad for Bad Dragon, I swear.)

You spend a whole minute staring at the item you just pulled out of the unassuming box. The sheer size of it both makes your head spin and mouth very, very dry (at the same time, you feel a growing wetness somewhere much lower). Wow. Just wow. What is that thing? You're absolutely sure you ordered it in a different size, the smallest to be exact, so this can't be right.

Licking your lips, you blink, focusing back on the packaging. There isn't anything on the box, but you find a little sheet of paper next to the satin bag it came with. The dimensions listed make you frown. Putting the hefty item back on your desk, you fumble for the ruler you keep in one of the drawers. Then you start measuring the damn thing.

It's almost nine inches long, if you dismiss the large base that holds it steady to any surface. The head is the smallest part, two inches wide and tapered, the shaft flares out then, you measure two and a half inches in width, sloping into a soft curve lined with ridges and little nubs, before the main attraction protrudes in a rather menacing way: the knot, two bulbous bumps, and they even added thick veins to the design. Your hand is shaking when you put the ruler next to it. Three point five six inches wide.

That's a lot. Way too much. This will never fit inside you. Ever.

And still you are intrigued. Of course you are, you ordered that dildo for a reason, even if it came in the wrong size. (You could return it, you know that, but it's been a thrill to order it in the first place, so sending it back seems like too much of a hassle.) But just seeing it now, sitting heavy on your desk, with your small hand resting beside it, with its intricate and strangely realistic textures, it looks too intimidating.

You've read these werewolf stories where some fair maiden stumbles through the forest and ends up getting relentlessly knotted by the monster (or the more modern versions of some alpha male knotting his omega mate to help them through their heat, which always fascinated you a little more because it seemed not as fantastical). The idea to have something big inside you, filling you, stretching you out, and then something even bigger holding you in place, making it impossible to move, gives you chills, in the good way.

You may have been a little drunk and very horny when you ordered this fantasy dildo, but seeing it now, in the “flesh”, makes you very anxious. This was a stupid purchase. It won't be the same anyway. It's just the disembodied dick of a creature that doesn't exist in the first place. You'll be stuffed, sure, but you'll miss the warmth and the strength of whoever this would be attached to.

You sigh. Well, nothing you can do about it. You neither have a boyfriend to test this out with nor do you possess any magical abilities to make that fantasy come true, and as of right now, you don't see yourself using the damn thing anyway. It's too large (your other dildos look downright puny in comparison), and you are too small.

Despite it all, it is mesmerizing you. You chose a deep midnight blue as the color, that blends from a lighter blue at the tip into an almost black at the base, which makes it look slightly slimmer than it is. Slowly you move your hand up and close it around the curved shaft, well, you try, your fingers are too short to reach all the way around. You still slide your palm along the ridges and bumps, feeling the firm smooth silicone. It gives way in some places, you can bend it just a little bit, but when your hand reaches the knot, those bulbs feel almost a little too rigid.

You squeeze them, watching your knuckles blanching, knowing you will never have the same grip with your pussy. Warmth rushes into your cheeks at the thought. Biting your lip, you keep stroking the strange toy, getting a feel for it, trying to imagine how it would fit inside you. With how hefty the base is, you would have to put it on the ground and lower yourself onto it, which sounds like a workout you're not so sure you'd like.

But maybe the base comes off and you can use it like a regular dildo, snuggled into bed, hidden under your blanket? You lift the thing up and try to twist the base, but nothing happens. Hmm. At least it's sturdy. You find a little hole at the bottom, and you remember you ordered it with a... what did they call it, cumtube? Sounds weird, but it's just a long tube you can fill with cum-like lube that shoots out at some point? You're not too clear on the workings of that. But the idea to be filled by something warm and sticky makes your stomach tense up in anticipation.

Shifting on your chair, you inhale sharply and pull your hand away from the dark blue item. Well, this is not going to happen, not now. Maybe never. The idea is nice, but you don't see it being too pleasurable in reality. So you pack it up into its unassuming black satin bag along with the bottle of lube and the long tube it came with, and store it in the lowest drawer of your desk. Out of sight, out of mind.

Or so you hope.

When you go to bed that night, you see the large dildo in your mind's eye, and you recall these smutty stories, you imagine the grunts of the werewolf as he fucks the poor woman beneath him, rutting into her like the feral creature he is. And how she screams when he bottoms out, pressing all those inches into her, forcing his knot to stretch her entrance, how her pussy lips grip around it and pull it further inside. You have your hand between your legs as you try to imagine what it must feel like to be this full, to be bred and filled, with nowhere to go, stuck on those bulging bulbs.

A moan escapes you as your body shudders. You could try it. You have the hardware. It's right there. You just have to get up and get it... But you're too cozy in bed, under your warm blanket, with your fingers rubbing hard circles around your clit. You end up coming to the idea of it, and that's enough for you. Content with your heart racing, you exhale loudly, wiping your wet fingers on your thigh before you snuggle into the bedding and close your eyes, falling into a dreamless sleep.

Maybe not as dreamless as you've hoped. You wake up the next morning with a dry throat and sticky thighs, your mind swimming with images of cocks plunging into squelching holes, of being held down and ravaged, and you shudder at the memory. Blinking your eyes into focus, you sit up – and freeze.

There, on top of your desk, sits the large dark blue dildo, shining in the sunlight filtering through your window. No way. You've put it into the drawer, into its bag, far away, and even though you thought about using it last night, you didn't. And even if, you wouldn't put it back on the desk like that, right? But it's there, almost mocking you. Slowly you stand up and walk towards your desk, reaching out a hand to touch the smooth surface.

It's sticky, almost warm to the touch. What the hell? But you haven't used it, you're sure, you'd certainly remember it, wouldn't you? Shaking your head, you dismiss it for the moment and start your morning routine as if nothing happened.

Before you leave for the day, you grab the dildo and the toy cleaner you keep in your bedside table and give it a good scrub. Then you hide it away again, shutting the drawer with a firm thud. You are tempted to put a lock on it, but that's just silly.

Later that evening, you sit in bed and scroll through the stories on your phone, mindlessly skimming through your preferred genres. Somehow you end up on another knotting story. What are the odds. This one is set in the omegaverse, depicting an alpha bodyguard taking care of the omega girl in his care... by knotting her senseless. Just your kind of story. You end up with your fingers in your cunt, rubbing and poking desperately as you read.

You're close, your thighs twitching with every brush against your sensitive clit, stomach tense, feet curling into the sheets as you pump your hips. Your breaths are frantic, heart thundering inside your chest. Soundless, strangled gasps escape you (you're always mindful of your noises, these walls are thin and you don't want to alarm or entertain your neighbors) and you squirm and writhe, your phone falling out of your hand when you have to clutch at the edge of the bed.

“Fuck,” you croak out quietly while you roll onto your side and press your thighs together, trapping your hand, fingers stilling inside your clenching pussy as your body convulses under the mind-numbing throes of your orgasm.

You lie there for a moment, taking deep gulps of air into your burning lungs, slowly calming down again. Through the dark room you look towards your desk. And you can see it, your new toy, hidden away, waiting, and before you know it, you stumble off the bed and rip the drawer open and the large dildo out of its bag. You don't even care about the lube at this point.

With your back pressed into the bed, you rub the tapered tip between your wet folds, gathering your slick. You need both hands to guide the big thing back and forth, it's quite heavy. With your heart racing and your stomach fluttering, you angle your hips, feet pressed into the bed, and then you push. The head parts your lips and sinks into your entrance, and it's already a stretch that makes you inhale sharply.

But you keep going, your arms shaking under the exertion of forcing the toy deeper. You feel its protruding ridges and nubs rubbing against your soft walls as you start moving it in and out slowly. There's still so much of it in your hands, but the curve of the thing already presses between your tight muscles. You turn it slightly, figuring out which way feels best, and in doing so drill it even further.

You stop before your pussy lips brush against the bulbous knot, and you hold it tightly when you let the thing just rest inside you for a moment, feeling its girth and length and weight, its textures and shape. Clenching around the toy, you try to relax on the bed, grinding your hips slowly against your hands. It feels amazing, those ridges and nubs seem to hit all the right spots. Little moans slip from your parted lips, mouth hanging open as you squeeze your eyes shut.

The base is heavy between your fingers, and you feel them cramping slightly as you continue to move the large dildo in and out, considering using it like it's intended to be used: standing upright on the ground as you impale yourself on it. But it's a daunting thought, and your legs are already shaking badly. You doubt you have enough strength left to do squats on it now.

So you keep pumping half of it into your tight cunt, both hands closed around the hefty base, hips meeting your thrusts, the wet squelching sounds echoing through your room, adding to the growing arousal inside you. Your wrists hurt under the strain, but you're desperate now, hectic whines escaping you as you double your efforts, pushing and pulling, ramming that damn thing into you as fast as you can.

Arching your back and lifting your hips off the bed, you lean into the impending release, so close, a few more nudges, come on – when a sudden cold breeze over your sweaty face alerts you to something you cannot stop. It's as if an unseen force pushes the dildo with you, stronger than your own hands, an assist you didn't ask for.

But you're too far gone, gasping with your mouth wide open, head pressed into your pillow, thighs twitching, the tension ready to explode, and then it does, and at the same time as your orgasm crashes over you, a strange jerk goes through your body, and your usually voiceless cry becomes a real one, an almost scream as you feel your clenching cunt being stretched. Your hands fall away from the toy in an attempt to let it pop out and relish in the empty feeling as your contractions shake your body, but there's no empty feeling, because you're not empty.

You're stuffed. Somehow the knot has made it into your tight channel and your pussy lips grip the shaft beneath it, and as much as you push and clench, it doesn't budge. Cold panic rips you from your post-orgasmic bliss. Your hands claw at the base sticking out of you as you gyrate your hips, feeling every ridge and nub and bump pressing hard into your fluttering walls, but the toy is lodged within you. How did that happen?

Breathing harder, both from the exertion and the anxiety of having a sex toy stuck in your cunt, you wail quietly, rolling onto your side, lifting your leg, pulling on the damn thing. No chance. It's in there now. Knot and all, and the more you squirm, the more you feel the tapered tip pressing into depths nothing has ever pressed into before. It's a strange pain, sharp and piercing, a jolt of electricity with every movement of your body.

You lie on your back now, legs still angled, thighs twitching, trying to calm yourself down. You need to relax your muscles to get it out, you know that, but it's hard, as hard as the toy inside you. And somehow you feel it... expanding? No, that must be your imagination. It's not one of those inflatable things, you made sure of that. But the stretch is there, and it hurts.

Your hands are back between your legs, gripping the hefty base, but in your attempt to rip it out somehow, you suddenly feel it loosening and with another surprised/pained gasp, you realize you're holding the base of the toy – but without the toy.

“No!” you wail louder, staring at the dark piece of silicone between your fingers. It came right off, not as sturdy as initially suspected after all. You throw it aside and finger at the now-base of the fake shaft. It's barely sticking out now, your cunt eager to swallow it whole it seems. Whining in panic, you try to hook a finger between your tightly stretched skin and the dildo, but there's no way you can grip it like this.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as your anxiety grows. Chill. Calm down, it'll pop out on its own, they always do, don't worry, you try to soothe yourself. Not the first time you accidentally pushed a toy in too deep, but those were smooth ones, half as long and half as thick, with no ridges or knots, of course they'd slip out again. But this thing? It's a fucking knot, designed, by nature, to keep itself lodged inside any unsuspecting hole.

You think back to those stories you read about the topic. Those were fictional though, and every author handled it slightly differently. In some of them, the knot would just deflate when the man (or werewolf) was done dumping his potent load into his victim or mate, in others it stayed bulbous and inflated for a long time, locking the two people together, which, in a way, is a romantic thing and something you'd like to experience once in your life as well, but there's nobody attached to the dildo in your cunt, no one to hold you, to calm you, to rub your back and ease you through the pain of stretching and being filled.

The thought makes you sad, and in your frustration you buck your hips, only to gasp when the motion causes the toy to rub against these very sensitive spots that make your toes curl. You move your pelvis again, ripping a quiet moan from your throat, and then you fall into a slow rhythm of undulating into the bed, one hand back on your mound, feeling the tight fit of the toy before you start rubbing your swollen clit gently.

Before you know it, you work yourself to yet another orgasm, and the dildo seems to work with you. You even nudge its base a little, pushing it deeper, right against that sweet spot in the far back, and you groan at the sensation of pleasure/pain as you thrash your head into the pillow. Rolling onto your side, you keep grinding against the heavy thing inside you, panting under the exertion, your body curled up tightly, just like the coil in your tense stomach.

You're teetering on the edge, head empty except for that delicious cotton that makes you forget everything. It feels so good. The stretch, the pressure, the snug fit, those ridges and nubs and those seemingly pulsing bulbs pressing right against your g-spot. Mewls and wails fall from your trembling lips, and in your haze, you end up on your stomach where you lift your hips up and start humping your mattress feverishly.

The additional stimulation to your clit makes you cry out loudly, and you can only muffle your noises by pressing your face into the pillow. Your hard nipples rub against the fabric of your shirt with every gyrating motion with how you scrape your chest over the bed, and it doesn't take long before you stumble right over the edge, your muscles clenching hard around the toy, squeezing with all they have, as a million bright lights explode around you.

You're too far gone to think at that point, but if you would have been able to, you'd wonder why the toy doesn't come shooting out of your convulsing channel like most other toys would. It's not just the knot holding it in place, there's a strange force keeping your hips up and the dildo inside you. But you notice none of it, not the stiff position of your body as you tremble and quake, hands clawing at the sheets, knuckles white, fingers hurting, you just keep riding the waves of pleasure crashing over you.

You do, however, feel a familiar warmth gathering deep inside you, and you assume it's your own release waiting to gush past the item if it weren't for the knot plugging you up like a cork. Though it feels a little different, not something your body produced due to high stimulation, but something being added...

You groan deeply when your body makes a forward jerk as you feel the toy moving within you. Which shouldn't be possible. It's almost as if it's pulsing, throbbing, twitching, and with those motions something hot pushes into you, filling you up, seeping into every nook and cranny left by the large toy invading your already tight space. You shudder deeply, wondering in your fucked-out state what's going on, before you feel a strange stretch, a pressure building up inside you, and then, like an airlock being lifted, a strange squelching sound appears and you feel something hot and sticky trickling down your leg.

Remaining in your bent-over position, you move a hand between your legs and feel for whatever is leaking out of you. It's thick, thicker than your own juices, and much stickier. You bring it to your eyes, and whatever liquid it is, it pulls into thin strands as you part your fingers. Feels like cum. You blink at the sight and feel of it, and in your stupor, you roll onto your side, feeling more of it gathering between your legs.

When you're on your back again, you lift your hips, your sticky hand rubbing over your bare stomach, trying to ignore how tense and full it feels, down to your mound, teasing at the stretched opening. You feel the silicone against your fingertips, and it's no longer an intruder you want to get out immediately, it's become a strangely comforting feeling, despite the out of nowhere appearing cum-like substance. Maybe you filled it up before you used it? You can't remember, honestly. Does it matter? Not really.

You enjoy the feeling of fullness, the stretch and pressure, how with every slight movement the toy's ridges dig into your soft walls. The curve of it fits perfectly inside you, and the bulbous knot makes it sit so snug, as if it was made specifically for your cunt. You almost laugh at your initial apprehension and how you thought that huge thing would never fit into your tiny body, but look at you now, stuffed and happy.

With one hand on your mound, now eager to keep the toy in, as you rub your swollen labia gently, you roll onto your side and snuggle into your bed, your other hand pulling the sheets over your sweat-slick, sticky body. You don't care about washing up, you just want to sleep, softly riding out the blissful tremors of what this amazing toy has made you feel.

Closing your eyes, you imagine lying next to your alpha mate, or even a fluffy werewolf, as he holds you tightly pressed to his warm body, cock stuck inside your clenching cunt, knotting you to your (and his) heart's content.

But despite feeling exhausted, you can't stop grinding your hips against your hand, breathing harder when the warmth and tension builds up all over again as the dildo presses into all the right places. Soft moans slip from your dry lips, a shudder crashing through you at the feel of the tight knot stretching your sensitive skin. That last orgasm before you actually fall asleep is a mild one, a soothing thing washing over you, a warm embrace from something that isn't there.

You wake up with a sigh, feeling refreshed and rejuvenated, ready to start the new day. There is a strange soreness between your legs, as well as a very sticky sensation on your skin, but you don't care much for it – before you sit up and yelp when a sudden pain crashes through you. You stand up so fast your head is spinning, and as you press a hand to your mound, you can feel that the dildo is still lodged snugly inside you.

Yet you don't even have time to panic as the room grows dark all of a sudden. Then it all happens very fast. Somehow you are being turned and bent over the foot of the bed, chest pressed into the mattress by a force you can't explain. Your hands grip for the sheets as you struggle against whatever is holding you down. Are you still dreaming? You can't be sure. It feels too real.

And the pain when something pulls at the dildo in your cunt, when the knot stretches your pussy lips as it forces its way past them, is very, very real and makes you wail into the bedding. After the first stretch, the rest of the toy slips out easily, and with it comes a flood of something warm and sticky, spraying against your inner thighs, dripping down your legs, pooling around your bare feet on the floor. You gasp at the sudden emptiness.

All that wasted seed, you think as if someone has planted the thought into your head. Better put in a new load. Before you can properly wonder about where those words came from, you feel something nudging against your stretched entrance. You stand on shaking legs, ass in the air, torso pushed down into the bed, and you struggle, or try to, but you can't move. It's as if you're frozen in time and place, held down by an invisible force.

It's too dark to see anything, not that you could anyway with how your face is buried in the sheets. All you can do is take it, and even that you're not sure you can. It feels like something is standing behind you, something cold that lets goosebumps ripple over your exposed skin, and at the same time there's something very hot sinking into your fluttering cunt. You know it's the silicone toy warmed by your own body, but it feels different somehow. It feels... real.

You grunt with every sharp stab it gives you, parting your folds, plunging deep, but not as deep, teasing you with those ridges and nubs that scrape over your gummy walls, and the swell of that knot nudges against your entrance, never breaching it. Not yet anyway. The pace is brutal, a feral rutting, pistoning in and out fast and hard, and you can barely contain your noises anymore. They're muffled but still loud in your ears. Maybe because they're the only thing you hear, aside from the wet squelching of your cunt.

Whatever is pushing that dildo into you, whatever took over for you, doesn't make a sound, but you can feel it, you know it's there, holding you down and restrained. Whatever it is.

As sure as you are about the invisible force fucking you on your own bed, you are about the impending orgasm creeping closer with every hard thrust. The constant in and out of the rigid toy makes your head spin, your stomach tense, your thighs tremble. You're moaning and mewling, desperate for release as the warmth gathers in your core, ready to burst free. You even manage to press your hips back and meet the motions of the toy pounding into you.

And then you come, wailing loudly, barely restrained, lights exploding behind your eyelids as your body shudders and convulses, and you feel something wet splattering on the wooden floor, adding to the mess pooling around your feet. You've never squirted before, but you just know that's what happened, if you could analyze the moment, which you can't because your head is deliciously empty as you let bliss take over your thinking apparatus.

You barely register how the toy keeps plunging into your wet cunt, those squelching noises obscene if you would care about them, and as you still float on that amazing high, you feel its thrusts getting slower, slightly deeper, more deliberate, those bulging bulbs nudging firmer against your pussy lips, and suddenly the pressure grows stronger, making you gasp and your legs shake badly, and you fight it, stiffen, muscles tensing up, making it all the worse, but whatever controls the large dildo doesn't care as it pushes it further into your protesting cunt.

You let out a deep groan when it finally breaches the tight squeeze, stretching your sensitive skin, slipping into you, and that motion, the getting swallowed by your own body, turns your wails of distress into cries of pure pleasure as you come again around the invading object, your walls fluttering around the knot. You almost lose your footing, but the force that's penetrating you is still holding you up, no matter how badly your body spasms against the bed.

The dildo is back inside of you, all of it, from the tapered tip that teases at your cervix to the swollen protrusions to the bit of shaft after that. Your cunt clenches around all of it, holding it in place, hugging it to its contracting walls, letting it rub against all those special spots. And you keep shaking, so sensitive by now the slightest motion causes you to gasp and shudder. You'd be content like this, having it inside you, just resting, as heavy and large as it is, but whatever decided to take over, doesn't see it that way.

While you couldn't possibly push the thing deeper the last time it was wedged into you, you now feel it moving, nudging further, the hard tip pressing into your depths, stretching you in a way you've never been stretched before. It hurts, but it also feels good. And it's good that you think so, as you don't have a choice in the matter anyway.

The toy is pushed and pulled in slow fluid motions, and you feel the knot pressing hard against your entrance, stretching but never leaving your cunt. That doesn't stop the force behind you, though. The shallow thrusts continue until they turn into a desperate rutting, quick short stabs that make you howl as they bully both your deepest spot and the tight muscles of your hole. It's painful in the best way possible, and you feel your legs trembling, your stomach tensing, that warmth filling you up before it all explodes, catapulting you over the edge all over again.

You scream as you come, luckily muffled by how your face is still pressed into the bedding, but the sensation isn't any less extreme. Your orgasm crashes over you like the biggest tidal wave you've ever experienced, not that you have seen any of those before, but it sure feels like it hits you straight in the chest and drags you along, throwing you around, unrelenting, merciless, as you're being pushed and pulled and gasping for air.

Your walls clench hard around the still pistoning intruder, the curve, the ridges, the nubs, that fucking knot, all playing vital roles in keeping you afloat (or drowning), prolonging the gloriously mind-blowing experience. You feel dizzy, your heart thundering in your chest, lungs burning, body arching and spasming, as you are being hurdled from one orgasm to the next, or so it feels, and it never ends, not even when the toy suddenly stills, pushed as deep as possible, and then it throbs.

Even though you're barely able to feel anything anymore, you can feel its vibrations, the thrum from deep within it, and it shouldn't do that, it's not a vibrating toy, you tell yourself, it's also not an inflating one, but it still seems to swell, or the knot is, and it's pulsing against your tense muscles, stretching them, working inside you, and then... it unloads.

The warmth it fills you with is scorching, so filling you feel it bulging your stomach, which shouldn't be possible, and you may even taste it on your tongue as you gulp for air. It's all around you, but mostly inside you, and there it stays because the knot keeps it from spilling out. You are plugged shut, and it keeps pumping, giving you more, and it feels both oddly comforting and terrifyingly too much. You feel like bursting, so full, way too full, but all you can do is groan quietly.

With your mind still reeling, you are suddenly moved, lifted up by invisible hands (or paws?), cradled against something strangely warm as you're being put onto your side on the bed, your stomach fluttering and bulging, tensing badly under the onslaught of whatever liquid is pumped into your depths. The knotting dildo remains deep inside you, stuck and locked in, and you become drowsy, exhausted from whatever just happened. The darkness is still all around you, but you feel warm and content and taken good care of.

A smile grazes your dry lips as you imagine lying in the embrace of a mate, a lover, holding you after the strenuous ordeal of being knotted and bred, as their cock keeps pumping cum into you, as you remain tied together. And it feels so real...

Your eyes flutter close, and you inhale deeply, shifting slightly with your precious cargo inside you. As you drift into unconsciousness, the room grows brighter again, letting in the warm sunlight of a day already reaching its halfway point. Of course, you notice none of that, gone as you are.

When you stir awake, the darkness is back, this one real, lying like a heavy blanket all around you, while you lie on your side, shivering because you seemed to have kicked off your own blanket. Once you come to fully, you feel a little strange. Your mind is fuzzy, laden with images that couldn't have happened. Did you dream all that? Surely. It would be too weird if not.

But then why do you feel full when at the same time you are blatantly empty? Rolling onto your back, you grind your hips, assessing if you were indeed knotted and bred, but there's nothing. Your stomach rumbles, and when you touch it, it's normal, not bulged and tense but soft, and that's probably where the emptiness comes from. You're hungry, but that hunger also feels like an air pocket inside you, too big to ignore, giving you the feeling of being full? It's a strange sensation, to say the least.

And then there's another kind of emptiness. The one sitting invisibly in your aching little cunt disguised as nothingness. The toy is gone. You recall vividly how deep it's been in you, how stuck and immobile and heavy it sat between your clenching walls, but now they are fluttering around nothing. Where did it go?

You sit up, rubbing your naked arms, realizing you are indeed completely naked. Strange, didn't you go to bed with your sleep shirt? And why is it dark? It's been morning before, what happened to the rest of the day? You lean over to the lamp on your bedside table and the dark room is suddenly bathed in a warm yellow light, causing your eyes to wander straight towards your desk.

And there it is, sitting on its hefty base, the dark blue knotting dildo, in all its glory, with its curve, those ridges and nubs, and the formidable two bulbs making up the knot of the thing. You blink at the sight, confusion washing over you like a cold shiver. Slowly you stand up, groaning as you do, feeling your limbs shaking. Why are you so weak? Rubbing your stomach, you take a few steps before you almost slip on the floor.

Something wet coats the soles of your feet, and when you look down there's a big puddle of something shiny all over the wooden boards. Some of it is clear, but there's also a white shimmer to it, and you feel your heart accelerating as you remember how that came to be (even if the memory is faint, but seeing the evidence makes it all the more real and that frighteningly so). The feeling of being filled to the brim and leaking with the rest of it, the sensation of coming so hard you squirted all over the floor, while a strange force pounded your new toy into your willing body. Has it really happened? Apparently. But how is that possible?

Your heart beats faster as you keep walking until you reach the large dildo, standing proud and tall and girthy. You reach out with a shaking hand, carefully sliding your fingers over the textured shaft, tracing the thick veins on it. It feels warm and sticky, and it makes your blood run cold. It feels real, and it shouldn't. You know that. You're not crazy.

But there are too many things you just can't explain. How did it get back on the desk, back on the base you seemingly broke off last time? How was it possible that the toy fucked you on its own, in that bent-over position, and why weren't you able to move as it happened?

You feel chills all over your naked body. In that moment your rational mind just gives up. Normally you don't believe in ghosts or anything supernatural, but how else could you explain any of this? Is the toy haunted? Possessed?

It's a silicone thing, man-made, fabricated to cater to certain people's needs, a fantasy product, but it feels real, it pumped seemingly real cum into you (or so you think, it could still have been loaded with that artificial stuff without your knowledge and by squeezing it too hard you made it come out?), it fucked you as if attached to the real deal (whatever the real deal was).

Staring at the item, you lick your lips, eyes scanning every inch of its ridged surface. As creepy as this whole situation is, you still can't deny how good it felt also. How full and happy you were, how many times you came as it rammed into you, how those little nubs felt against your tense walls. They clench just remembering it. And somehow, from the darkest corner of your mind, comes the need to put it back in, feel it again, let the knot lock you up...

A shaky sigh escapes you, and you force yourself to look away from its tantalizing appeal. No. You can't. It'll all happen again, a mind-blowing fuckfest, and you'll waste another day in bed or wherever this thing wants to fuck you, or you it, it's still unclear how that happened, and maybe it was just your extremely horny mind who made up the idea of it being controlled by somebody else, maybe it has been you all along, driven crazy by sheer lust as you rammed that knot into your own cunt.

Shaking your head to clear it, you step away and into the bathroom. You spend a long time in there, inspecting and washing and handling your sore body, and when you emerge again, wrapped in a towel with your wet hair falling over your shoulders, the toy is still sitting on your desk. You watch it, but don't approach it. Instead you leave the room and venture into the kitchen to satiate the human need of eating, and after you sat at the counter and shoveled a bowl of cereal into your achingly empty stomach, you return to your bedroom.

The sight of that thing haunts you. You feel antsy just looking at it. In the end, you pick it up and put it down on the wooden desk chair, something you feel like doing, as if something put that thought into your head, a not too unfamiliar sensation. Then you pull the chair back, drop your towel and move to sit down on it. Again, you're barely thinking about it, it's like a need, an urge, a thing that feels right.

So you squat down on the toy, feeling the tapered tip pressing between your folds, and as soon as it breaches your entrance, pushing against your sore muscles, you gasp, hands curled around the edge of the desk to ground yourself as you let gravity do the rest. Or most of it. You feel the curve sinking into your tight depths, carving a way into your gummy walls, but when the knot presses against your pussy lips, you pause, breathing harder.

It feels too big, but you know it can fit inside you, it's happened before. Inhaling deeply, you try to relax, gyrating your hips to ease it into you, but your hole's too tight, unwilling to part further. You're in that weird half-squat, hovering over the chair, arms propped on the desk in front of you, and instead of giving up, you start moving up and down, fucking yourself slowly on the curved shaft, feeling those ridges and nubs and the tip poking at those delicious spots.

You're panting from the exertion, thighs burning under the strain, but you keep going even when sweat drops down your brows. You feel as if your muscles are opening up, and before your legs give in, you slam your hips down. A shrill shriek escapes you as you feel the knot stretching you open, your sensitive skin and muscles giving way, allowing it inside before they close back around it, swallowing it and the whole thing inside of you. You moan when you feel it filling you out.

Sinking a few inches further, you feel your rear pressing against the base of the toy before you sit down fully, ass cheeks on the chair, the entirety of the dildo wedged between your tight walls. A trembling exhale escapes you as you try to relax on it, your arms shaking before you bring your hands to your lap, your chest rising and falling faster, your stomach fluttering. For a few minutes you just sit there, trying to calm your frantic breaths and your rapid heartbeat, adjusting to the filling sensation.

And then, as if you haven't just impaled yourself on a knotting dildo, you reach a hand out, turn the lamp on your desk on and pull the laptop closer that you keep at the edge of it. You've missed an entire day it seems, so you're hellbent on making up for it. As your fingers fly over the keyboard, you occasionally grind your hips into the chair, relishing in the sudden jolts of pleasure/pain as the toy nudges your insides.

You sit there and work until you've edged yourself so badly, you can barely think anymore. Leaning back in your chair with your hands flat on your desk, you inhale sharply, tilting your head back as you undulate against the toy wedged between your thighs. You're so sensitive, every single motion causes you to shiver deeply. Even the hefty base of the toy rubs delightfully against your mound, adding pressure where you didn't know you needed it. A moan escapes you, and you move your hands to your rear and pull your cheeks apart until you can grind against it better.

It feels so good. To be stuffed, to be teased like this, to feel all those little details on that firm silicone shaft. You want to congratulate whoever came up with this design. It's perfect.

In an attempt to feel more of it, you lift yourself up slightly, really wanting to ride that thing now, but of course the knot prevents you from doing so, plugging you up tightly. You can still nudge the curved dildo a little deeper, so you end up humping your chair with small shallow snaps of your hips, your thighs trembling after only a few minutes, your panting breaths loud in the quiet room.

With a little whine you stand up properly, but instead of forcing the toy out from between your clenching walls, you lift up the entire thing, base and all, as it's firmly stuck inside of you. Its weight is heavy between your legs, but you still manage to stumble towards the bed with it where you throw yourself onto your back, spread your legs, lift your hips and start pushing your hands against the base, working yourself up even more.

Once your wrists cramp up under the strain, you focus on stimulating your clit, and the first touch has you already writhing on the bed. Gasping quietly, you buck your hips against your own fingers as you keep rubbing that sensitive bundle of nerves until your thighs spasm wildly. You feel the tension building, the warmth gathering inside you, and then you come with a soundless half-scream, mouth wide open, legs clamping shut around your hands as you ride out the waves of pleasure, the toy practically vibrating inside you with how your walls are fluttering around it.

Your limbs go limp then, hands falling away, legs falling open, as you try to catch your breath. Eyes closed, a stupid smile on your lips, you lie there like a stranded beetle, stomach convulsing, chest heaving. You don't notice how the darkness creeps back in, dimming out the warm light of the desk and bedside table lamp. You don't feel the cold wafting in the air around you, but you do feel the dildo moving, tiny movements, little nudges against your tight muscles until it pops out with an obscenely wet squelching sound, coaxing a deep sigh out of you.

You feel utterly relieved and satisfied and content, ready to fall asleep like that, with your legs wide open, presented on the bed like a strange little offering, and whatever lurks in the shadows around you, seems to take the bait.

It feels like your bed is moving, the mattress denting on either side of your hips, and then you're being lifted a little, and it's cold and warm at the same time as your legs are pushed up and against your chest, and as if you want this to happen, your hands move to grab your thighs, holding your legs like this. In this position you are wide open, a cool breeze on your swollen clit, your cunt clenching around nothing – but not for long.

The tapered tip pushes between your folds, eagerly sinking into your slightly stretched hole, scraping along your soft walls. The curved shaft follows, digging into you, its nubs and ridges rubbing against those sensitive spots that make you mewl softly. You are in a trance, held by lust even as exhaustion wants to pull you under. You don't question anything at this point, you just savor the sensations.

And you feel everything. The shaft moves then, in and out, shallow little stabs, carving its way deeper until you feel the bulbous knot pressing against your entrance. But it doesn't go in yet, it keeps slamming against your puffy lips, the wet squelching sounds a telltale sign of how aroused you still are. There's a strange weight to the thrusts, as if there would be more than just the toy being pushed into you, it feels as if it was attached to something much bigger, a presence you can't see (not even if you would open your eyes), but can sense in a way that feeds your longing.

The pounding continues, and that warmth builds up again, all around the thick shaft that moves between your tight walls with ease and power, in and out, fast and hard, and in an angle that makes you wail, bullying all the right spots until you can't hold it in you anymore. You come with a croaked cry as your body tenses up before it explodes into nothing but bliss, tiny lights dancing behind your eyelids, that soft warmth turning into a burning that devours all of you at once.

Through your orgasm the fake cock (or so you think) keeps pumping into you, those wet squelches are obscenely loud, and you moan and whine, hips bucking to meet the thrusts as your fingers dig into your own thighs, holding your legs squished against your breasts, your feet jumping above your head with every plunge.

And then it happens, your fluttering cunt gives way to the knot, but instead of plugging you up, it pops out, then plunges into you once more, and out again and in again, and you wail under the stretch and strange sensation of being stretched repeatedly. There's pain, but there's also blinding pleasure whenever it forces itself into you, and you keep coming from that motion alone, gasping and writhing, barely able to breathe or think or do anything but let it happen.

Now the whole length of the thing pushes into you, as deep as it'll go, bullying your cervix with its tapered tip, knot fully swallowed by your walls, then it's pulled back almost entirely before doing it all over again, driving you to the edge and over it and back and over in rapid succession. It's all a blur, but it feels so good, you could die on the spot just feeling it breaching your tight space over and over again.

Luckily, you don't die, you are just pushed from orgasm to orgasm, until every single nerve ending is buzzing and tingling, and you come to the point where you don't want to come any more. Not that the thing fucking you seems to mind that very much. It keeps going, in and out, your cunt giving off a lewd wet popping sound every time the knot is forced out and another wet slurping sound every time it's pushed in and swallowed by your walls. Along with your breathless whines and the squeaking of the bed, it's a cacophony of sounds driving you to the edge of sanity, and pleasure, and pain, and all of the above.

You feel yourself fading, teetering on the brink of unconsciousness, but just as you think you'll drift off now, the thing in your cunt plunges particularly deep, a final thrust full of power and strength, a heavy weight pressing you down as it prods painfully against your already battered cervix. You cry out, your body too confused, so it makes you convulse all over again as another orgasm crashes through you. The curved shaft stills inside you, ridges and nubs and its knot settling against your fluttering walls, and you feel as if it's throbbing and twitching, and the bulbs seem to grow, stretching you further, really plugging you up now.

A groan slips from your dry lips as it starts pumping something warm and filling into your cramped depths. Spurt after spurt, more and more, until you can feel your stomach bulging, tensing under the growing load, and your head is spinning as your body comes down from that strenuous but still utterly pleasurable experience. You feel a little drunk almost, dizzy and disorientated, wondering why you are still holding your legs up. But you stay like this, submitting to whatever leans over you, holding you down with their cock.

The last bit of your rational mind tells you you're just dreaming. Of course you are. And what a nice dream it is, hm? But then your eyes flutter open, and you blink at the darkness around you. It feels impenetrable, too dark. Even at night, you can usually make out the shape of your furniture, the outline of your windows, the streetlamps trying to push their light past your curtains. But you can see absolutely nothing. Did you even open your eyes?

You blink. Yeah, you did. There's something eerie in the way you're staring into the black void in front of you, it gives you chills, makes your body shudder, and as you jerk a little, you feel the weight and the pressure inside of you. The toy. It's still in there, buried deep, and it keeps throbbing, spewing liquid warmth into you. It feels so real. Your heart beats faster, your breaths quicken.

Then a strange hum fills the air, you freeze immediately, your eyes widening. It's a soothing sound as much as it is terrifying. It makes you stiffen, frozen in place, a deep chill running down your spine. And then there's this huff, like an exhale, and you can feel warm air wafting towards you, hitting your sweat-slick face. A tiny little croak escapes you as fear grips your limbs after all.

There is something, holding you down, impaling you on its cock, leaning over you, breathing right against your quivering lips. You can't see it, no matter how hard you try, but it's there. Huffing and puffing in a low, deep rumble, an unseen weight resting between your legs. Hot tears fall from under your lashes, running down your cheeks, but they never reach the pillow beneath your head.

It's a warm sensation, wet, almost a little slimy, and it feels like a tongue lapping at your skin, and the thought alone pushes you right to the edge of hysteria. Helpless whimpers escape you, but that disembodied, unseen tongue keeps licking up the tears continuously spilling from your eyes. Warm breaths dry your wet cheeks, those little huffs quieter now, calm and collected, and they slowly ease your own breathing as you stare ahead at nothing but blackness.

A little shriek is coaxed out of your throat when you feel the same tongue on your neck now, something soft nudging your calves until you let go of your legs and let them fall open against whatever has settled between them. They don't reach the soft bedding beneath but are held up now by something else, and you're too far gone to question it anymore. With your legs down, your torso is exposed to the shadows, your breasts trembling as your chest rises and falls quicker.

Those warm huffs of air hit your sensitive nipples before something warm circles them, and you can feel them being pulled and teased, making you shiver deeply, the sensation sending jolts of pleasure straight to your clit and fluttering cunt. The thick shaft inside you throbs as well, still leaking the occasional spurt of warm fluid. The knot is pulsing, tight and harder than before, or so it feels, those bulging veins on it rubbing deliciously against your stretched flesh.

You feel yourself drifting again under all these ministrations, lulled into your own darkness.

In your dreams, or whatever reality you find yourself in, you see a large shadow leaning over you. And you are calm about it, not afraid, but content. The appearance of the figure above you is hazy, like black smoke, fraying at its edges, no clear contour to make out. But what you can see (or think to see) are strong arms, a broad torso, muscles wherever you look. A display of strength and power and dominance, and in its shadow, you feel safe, protected.

You assume it's a large man, but you can't see his face. It's still too dark. But you can feel his breath on your skin, his lips trailing around your breasts, upwards to your collarbones, before you feel that warm tongue against your neck again. You tilt your head, giving him better access, and he hums deeply, showering you with little kisses and broad strokes of his tongue. Your pulse is fluttering against his mouth, and he senses your arousal, smells it. He seems to sniff you, hovering over you, warm and heavy.

“You are mine now,” you hear a low thrum in the air, assuming it's his voice. “My mate.”

You don't know what that means, but you're ready. You want it. And as if he can feel your approval, he leans in, his lips closing around your pulse, sucking softly, his teeth nibbling carefully, before you feel a different sensation. A pinch, a prick, a sudden cold stab when something sharp sinks into your skin.

You moan quietly as a strange warmth rushes through you (and out of you), the smell of metal wafting towards your nostrils, but you keep still, and without knowing what's happening, you let him bite you, mark you, and he grunts against you, holding your neck between his teeth as a shudder crashes through his big body that travels all the way to his cock buried deep inside of you. You feel it throbbing, the knot pulsing, and as your walls clench in response, you feel more warmth seeping into you as he fills you up again.

His hips grind against yours, soft little nudges, and you feel so good. An unusually gentle orgasm washes over you then, like a calming caress through your body that soothes you, eases your sore muscles, the slight pain in your neck, any other ailments you might have had. None of it matters anymore. You've found your mate. You're not alone anymore. You feel like coming home. Safe...

“What's your name?” you breathe out into the black void ready to consume you, not sure why you feel the need to ask this.

A huff of warm air moves over your face before a low hum vibrates in your ear. “Fenrir,” he growls quietly, and it's all you need to know as you inhale deeply, a soft smile grazing your lips.

Then, the darkness closes around you as if someone puts their hand over your eyes, whisking you away to sleep, or back to reality...

The next time you wake up, you are cuddled into your sheets, and the sunlight filters through your curtains. A new day, and you've never felt this refreshed before. Sitting up, you stretch with a soft squeak, rolling your neck, inhaling deeply. Your eyes move through the room, and the sight of the large dildo on your desk doesn't even confuse you anymore. It feels right to see it there. You stand up and walk past it on your way to the bathroom, your fingers sliding gently along its curved shaft.

In the midst of your morning routine, you hear the chime of your doorbell. Slipping into your fuzzy bathrobe, you hurry to the door, but when you reach it, whoever was there, is already gone. Though they left something behind. You bend down to pick up the small package, seeing your address on it and the usual postal stamps. Delivery? But you didn't expect anything.

You close the door and bring the unassuming box to your desk, putting it down next to the big toy on its base. Humming to yourself, mindlessly scratching at a spot on your neck, you open the package – and frown when you see its contents. Slowly you raise it out of its black satin bag. It's the dildo you ordered. The right size also. It's so small, barely as long as your hand, maybe the size of a soda can but much thinner, less than half the size of the toy that sits next to the opened box.

It's got the same design, the same ridges and nubs and the protruding bulbs of the knot, but it's so... tiny. You really ordered this? Apparently so, as you check the accompanying receipt and instructions. You can only half-remember that horny night when you browsed the site, and intimidated as you were, you chose the smallest size: Mini. You had no idea it would be this small. There's a picture of the different available sizes, and you realize the thing you actually fit into your cunt is the Large one. And just how large it is...

You shiver just thinking of having it inside you. But you also can't wait to put it back in. Your mind is hazy with memories of using it, of what really happened since you got it (and somehow you don't even wonder why you received two packages), and it's all a blur of ecstasy that makes you salivate and drip into the panties you put on.

Yet when you notice that the article has a name, you pause, blinking in confusion, your hand still scratching at what feels like a scabby wound on your neck. The name of the dildo feels familiar, like a distant memory, and it is –

As soon as you say it out loud, the big dark blue toy starts humming, its vibrations (even though you're not connected to it) sending shock waves through your whole body, activating all the right nerves. Your heart beats faster, your breaths turn into soft moans, and your cunt clenches hungrily around nothing.

“Fenrir.”

MASTERLIST // AO3 // ORIGINAL WORKS

KINKTOBER 2024 MASTERLIST

[munefille]

yandere!eldritch horror moves into the apartment next door and you're not okay with it.

He's an absolutely terrible neighbor. You see people enter his apartment every night, but you never see them leave the morning after. Must be drunk hookups, right? You don't know, and you don't care, but there are weird nightly noises coming from his place, and his face is a strange dark blur that you have trouble picturing, and you swear there's a sour smell wafting out from under his door.

Every time you try to talk to him about keeping it down or getting rid of that God awful stench, you're suddenly afflicted with a piercing headache... ugh, what were you even going to say again? You can't remember, but the way he's looking at you with wide blue... no, brown eyes and a grin stretched sickeningly far makes you think you should leave it.

While you’re busy figuring out how to get him evicted, the abomination dwelling on the other side of your paper thin walls gets the idea that you're trying to ask him out.

You approach him so often, you must like him, right? He's giddy just imagining it. Yeah, you come up to him with a grimace, but then you catch his eye and a forced smile takes its place. You haven't asked him to be yours yet because you're shy (he understands humans so well!).

No worries! He doesn't have an issue initiating. The meat sack he wears may not be the most convincing (he's inexperienced, just recently escaped into human society), but you'll be impressed by his real form for sure. All of the members of his old cult praised him for it, after all.

Many eyes to watch you with. Many limbs to touch you with. Many teeth to devour the flesh of your enemies with. What more could you possibly want?

Back then the cultists were so enamored with the lumbering heap of distorted skin and bone he possessed, feeding his ravenous hunger until he was quelled. He hated what he was to them, hated what they made him into. They search for their missing idol, but he makes sure they never make it back to utter a word of his new identity.

He moved in after leaving the cult that created him, quickly coming up with a flimsy human adjacent shell to not raise suspicion. Having mind altering abilities also comes in handy, too- no one but you seems to pay any mind to his existence in your run down complex.

Now that he has you, nothing will ever drag him back to their clutches. Being treated like an otherworldly god has nothing on the way you make him feel when you ask what the hell is rotting in his apartment ♡