#I feel like you wanted something sexy but the next two are bound to be unspeakably horney

[intosnarkness]

”come over here and make me” kanej

(1 2 or make up your own) (ask)

Sankt Emerens is not someone Inej was really familiar with before she was brought to Kerch.

As part of a traveling circus, living in a wagon, her family hadn't had a lot of need for harvest festivals. They'd usually taken advantage of them to set up a tent and earn coin in one of the smaller Ravkan villages they passed through. But they never stopped at the shrines or left offerings to him. Why would they, when they didn't grow anything?

Her first autumn in the Barrel, Inej was surprised by the revelry on Emeren's feast day - the sheer number of drunk people in the streets, the fireworks, the raucous laughter and the stream of men whose inhibitions were low enough to stumble into the Menagerie and spend their kruge on girls who couldn't say no.

She thought she might hate Sankt Emerens. She had never hated a saint before, but she was willing to bend a little for someone who inspired such chaos.

Which is why, in her second year in Ketterdam, Inej climbs up to the roof of the Slat with a bottle of whiskey and resolves to not think about anything even remotely religious instead of participating in the celebrations. She decides to pretend that it's a normal night, and that no one on the West Stave is being sold in the name of someone who died in a grain silo.

It doesn't go great.

She's only a drink or so into the whiskey, the amber liquid just kissing the top of the label as she lowers it from her lips, when she feels his presence on the roof with her.

"Hello, Kaz," she offers, giving him a little toast with the bottle. It's about time she got to greet him without looking.

"What business?" he asks, which just makes her snort through her nose. He's come to see her. On the roof. During a festival. Why would she be bringing him business? Sometimes Kaz is just the absolute worst.

"Getting drunk," she replies, though she doesn't think she will. She's had enough whiskey. She doesn't even like the stuff, it's just what Kaz had in his stash that she could take. Plus, if she's going to get drunk, she should do it with her feet on the ground. Nothing good has ever come of trying to get shitfaced on a roof.

Probably her father has a saying about that. Something profound, and wise. She misses him in a way that aches.

Kaz comes to sit next to her, close but carefully avoiding any contact between their bodies, and holds his hand out for the bottle. She takes another sip before she hands it to him.

"This is mine," he says, but he wipes the rim of it with his sleeve before taking a swallow. He winces a little, and Inej can't help but smile. He doesn't shoot whiskey well. It's something no one else seems to ever notice. He sips it, drinks it for status instead of enjoyment. She files it away in her mind, a secret she can sell when he's rich and powerful.

"I borrowed it," she replies, watching him out of the corner of her eye. "You weren't around to ask."

"Someone had to arrange for the fireworks," he shrugs. "There's always profit in this city, if you know where to look."

Somehow, Inej thinks her father would disapprove of that as a proverb. But it does sound like the kind of thing you would say while shaking the hand of your pewmate at a Ghezenite service. Good morning, there's profit to be made. Heathens.

"Of course," she shakes her head and reaches for the bottle again.

Kaz doesn't hand it over, instead making a show of taking another deep drink. This time he coughs, and Inej feels vindicated by it. What an asshole he is.

"Why aren't you out there?" he asks, gesturing with his chin towards the revelers below. "You could get drunk on another man's alcohol."

"Other men want payment for free drinks," she says, before she can consider it. It's true, of course. If you let a man buy you a whiskey he asks for your company. And Inej can't be bought anymore. Not like that. With Kaz, there may still be a price for things, but it's a price she knows up front. A price she can say no to, and know that he'll let her.

That seems to put him on his heels, and she uses his moment of distraction to take the bottle back, swallowing deep. She should stop. She should get down. She doesn't want to.

The alcohol is warm in her stomach, and Kaz is warm at her side, despite the barrier of air and clothing that will always keep them apart.

"Give that back," he demands, his brow furrowed. "Go buy your own whiskey, Wraith."

"Why don't you come over here and make me?" she replies, and when their eyes meet in the darkness, she can feel something coming from him that she's never felt before. Something like want or need. It scares her. It scares her to think that she's on a roof, far away from anyone who can help her, with this boy who she trusts. Who has earned her trust. Who lies and cheats and murders and probably doesn't deserve that trust.

He opens his mouth to reply, but she doesn't hear what he says, because something explodes over the harbor.

It's a firework, a shower of gold and red sparks like a small sun that blazes into existence for a moment. It's breathtaking, and she turns to look at Kaz, watching as the next one goes off, the reflection of green and blue in his dark eyes. He's beautiful, and the way he's looking at her makes her think that maybe- maybe- he thinks she's beautiful, too.

Probably not. Probably Kaz Brekker doesn't have feelings about beauty, unless it's something he can get money from. And he promised her she would never have to do that. So what use would her beauty be to him, anyway?

"Here," Inej hands him the bottle and gets to her feet. "I'm done. Good night, Kaz."

"Stay," he says, his voice warm in the chill of the air. Or maybe it's the alcohol. "Just - just until the fireworks are done. They're good fireworks. I would know."

Inej pauses, looking away from him to where a series of three explosions is going off, one after the other, a high whistling sound giving way to the bursts of color. It is pretty. It reminds her a little of the ones her aunt and uncle used to set off at the solstice, meant to scare back the night and show the way for the sun to return to them.

"Okay," Inej breathes, and returns to sitting an inch away from Kaz, their bodies never touching. If it's payment for the whiskey, well. She's willing to pay it. For now.

Neither of them speaks again as the explosions around them start to pick up, colors and sparks dancing down the firmament. She leans back on her palms, the rough shingles of the roof biting into them. Something soft and firm brushes over her fingers, a split second of contact that feels for all the world like leather.

She doesn't react, schooling herself to stillness. If Kaz touched her hand, she knows, it was an accident. It's not something he would do on purpose. Not to her, and not to anyone. So she won't make a big deal of it.

Kaz doesn't say anything either, just takes another gasping drink from the bottle and sits with her as the sky turns to light.

[thechaoticcherub]

Eight Ball Corner Pocket

Pairing: Jackson!Joel x Plus Size!Reader

Summary: Reader goes on a really bad date, Joel steps in to help make her forget it.

Warnings: 18+ Please, large age gap, mentions of reader being plus size/fat, otherwise reader is not really described, reader is self conscious, fatphobia(not by Joel at all), internalized fatphobia, Reader is just really trying to learn to love herself, negative self talk, drinking, random boy is a fuckin' meany, eight ball, reader is excellent at pool, semi traumatic past(barely mentioned), oral sex(female receiving), pet names(SO MANY), vaginal sex, rough sex, dom/sub dynamics, pussy pronouns

Notes: My bff edited this for me and I went over it a little but its not perfect. I also worked for SO long on this. I cried a little while writing it because it healed some shit in me. I hope it helps my other plus size/fat readers. Joel would think you are sexy af.

Word Count: 7.7 K

Going to the Tipsy Bison with this guy you had known for years was supposed to be a date. Your friends had made it feel like a big deal that he had finally asked you out. You wore a dress. Futzed with your hair until it was just right and actually got kind of excited. This guy, Daniel, was someone you had known since you were young and new to Jackson, essentially grown up with him and he wasn’t exactly your type, or all that interesting but everyone made it seem like it was bound to happen, like you were destined to date and he finally asked you. So you wore the dress. Did the whole thing with the hair and walked to the Tipsy Bison with him.

Things were fine, albeit a little boring while you had drinks and talked. You felt a little self conscious both of the fact that everyone around you seemed aware that it was a date and that he kept looking at your body. It didn’t even seem appreciative, it seemed like he was appraising you. The way your arm jiggled as you lifted your glass, how round your cheeks were when you smiled, the curve of your tummy he could notice through your dress. You felt like you were meat on display and the buyer wasn’t that interested. 

Things got slightly better when you asked if he wanted to play pool and so you two went to the open pool table and set up to play standard 8-ball. 

You broke and the balls went scattering, the solid 2 went into a pocket and then to your delight so did the 3. Daniel wasn’t so lucky. You kicked his ass the first game. It took almost no time and it was fun, you found yourself flirting a little more, making sure you leaned over just right as you were lining up a shot so he could catch a glimpse of your cleavage. Or so your ample ass stuck out in a way that you thought would be appealing. Daniel joked about being not so good at pool but you could tell he was getting frustrated by the time you got the 8 ball into one of the center pockets. 

 Halfway through the second game, you had some onlookers. Some of the older Jackson residents that spent a lot more time at the Tipsy Bison than you watched and cheered you on as you cleaned the floor with your date. 

It was when you leaned low over the table, lining up a tricky shot, trying to get your 5 ball into the far corner pocket by glancing it off of the edge of the table when you noticed Joel Miller was watching from his typical spot at the bar. 

Joel was notoriously grouchy, typically drinking at the bar with his brother Tommy, and incredibly attractive. Everyone knew he rarely spent any of his freetime with women, and the lucky few he had taken back to his place were always cryptic about it when asked. He was also a good chunk older than you, at least old enough to be your father, and none of the women he had been seen with were more than 10 years his junior. But here he was, sitting next to Tommy, looking right at you. Tommy was watching too, but there was something about Joel that made you almost miss your shot. Almost. The 5 ball skittered for a moment but then bounced off the side right by the pocket and dropped in. You grinned and hopped to a standing position, your hair and breasts both  bouncing, your breasts bouncing in the dress you were wearing and giggled.

“Damn!” Tommy commented with a laugh, looking over at Joel, catching him staring at you and punching his flannel clad arm, “She’s good.” There was a smattering of some of the others making similar comments but Joel remained quiet. 

You proudly turned to Daniel who let out a long, low whistle,

“Shit,” He said. “If you were more my type I’d be taking you home with me,” Daniel laughed, looking at you standing proudly holding your pool cue. Your heart sank, dropping into your stomach. It was such an odd thing to say on a date that you were momentarily taken aback. 

“What do you mean,  ‘if I was more your type’?”  You questioned, putting a hand on your hip. Daniel looked a little sheepish but then he shrugged and half-heartedly gestured to your body,

“I mean…just…” Daniel shrugged again and something inside you shriveled. All the confidence you had gained from kicking his ass at pool, the way you had looked at yourself in the mirror pleased with how the dress sat against your round belly and accentuated your chubby thighs vanished in an instant and you were suddenly a teenager being picked on for having bigger boobs than the rest of the girls your age. It wasn’t even like you had wanted to go home with Daniel, he was scrawny and more importantly, boring but the way he had so blatantly said it, hurt a small part of you that you thought you had hidden away. 

“Ah,” You said, turning away from him. Worse than the fact that he was saying this was that you were sure that there were other people that could hear. Worse than that even was you were so taken aback that you couldn’t come up with a reply, you didn’t tell him to fuck off or get lost. 

“I mean, besides your body you’re really pretty!” Daniel said and if you had had it in you, you would have punched him in the fucking face but it was taking everything in you to not start crying. You looked at the pool table in front of you and realized you were about to beat him. You only had the eight ball left and you were pretty well set up to knock it into the corner pocket. 

“Yeah.” You said. “Good to know. Eight ball, corner pocket.” You pointed to the corner pocket you meant, the pocket that was opposite of the bar. You walked over to the side of the table closest to the bar and leaned over. You set up your pool cue, anger and embarrassment should have clouded your perception, should have made it more difficult but you needed to prove something to him, you wanted to humiliate him the best way you could. So when you took the shot there was a loud, satisfying crack of cue ball smacking into 8 ball and then the even more satisfying thwunk of the 8 ball falling into the pocket. 

You dropped your pool cue onto the table with a clatter  and turned your back to Daniel, wanting to just go to the bar and forget him. 

“Rematch?” Daniel asked, sounding oblivious to your hurt and irritation. You were about to whip around and tell him off when a low, husky voice spoke up from the bar. 

“I think you’ve been embarrassed enough, son.” Joel had stood up from his bar stool and gone over to Daniel. “I wanna play the winner,” Joel insisted as he sidled up to Daniel. Daniel looked almost like he wanted to argue but Joel put his hand on the pool cue he was still clutching and gave it a tug. You looked from Daniel to Joel and then refused to let your eyes move back to the boy you had let speak to you so horribly. You didn’t want to give him another ounce of attention, especially when Joel Miller wanted to play you in pool.

“W-well we’re kinda out together-” Daniel stuttered. Joel eased the pool cue all the way out of his grip and turned to the table, not sparing him another glance,

“Nah, you’re not.” Joel said, reaching into one of the pockets to take out some of the balls. “Wanna play someone who’ll actually give ya a run for your money, sweetheart?” Joel asked you as you watched him move. You pursed your lips, trying to conceal a little smile at the pet name. You tilted your head to the side as if you were considering it, you knew you’d rather get beat at pool by Joel Miller than kick Daniel’s ass any day. Plus, you were on a roll, maybe you could beat him and while Joel was gruff and attractive, and quiet, and really attractive and stern and holy fucking shit hot. He was also safe. Safely unavailable. Older than you. 

“Sure,” You said finally with a shrug, reaching out and picking up your pool cue again.

“Atta girl,” He said, nodding and grabbing the triangle to start putting balls in. You passed him the  balls and he got it set up properly while you watched and paid exactly zero attention to Daniel who might have been slinking away from the pool table anyway. 

“You wanna break?” Joel huffed looking up from where he had set up the triangle. 

“I’ll break if you really think you can beat me,” You teased, trying to fake that confidence you had felt earlier. Joel breathed out a little laugh, 

“Go ahead and break, darlin and I’ll try to go easy on you.” And then Joel Miller winked at you, your heart skipped, and you felt the need to beat him drive deeper. You lined up your shot and broke with a sharp snap of balls, they skittered all over the table, the 10 ball dropped into a pocket.

“Guess I’m stripes,” You said, taking your next shot and missing the 9 ball by a centimeter. Joel walked over, putting his hand on your waist as he squeezed past you to get to the cue ball. Your cheeks burned and you tugged at the skirt of your dress. 

“Maybe it means your luck is out,” Joel leaned over and you tried not to admire the way his jeans tightened over his ass. 

“Maybe…but I doubt it,” You said, flouncing around the table to take your next turn as he missed his shot and swore under his breath.  

It turned out, Joel was excellent at pool, it was sheer luck that made you able to take a few turns, sinking some balls in the pockets, hoping you at least had a chance at the eight ball. 

“I could give you a few pointers, darlin.” Joel said as he sunk his last ball into a side pocket and looked around the table for the eight ball. “If you’re worried about the quality of your game,” He teased, his eyes were alight and there was a smile playing on his lips. You could tell he was competitive, and beating you was stroking his ego.  You didn’t mind though, the entire time you had played he had called you pet names and you had playfully trash talked each other. Joel had gotten you a beer and only teased you a little bit when you almost knocked the glass off the edge of the pool table with your pool cue. Now, you were desperately hoping he’d miss this shot so you could sink a couple more balls and then take your own shot at the 8 ball. “8 ball corner pocket,” he pointed to the pocket he meant and glanced at you, smirking. 

“Nahh, cause I think you’re about to scratch on the 8 ball.” You told him, holding your pool cue propped up on the ground between your knees. 

“You wish, puddin’…you…” he lined up his shot, leaning over, “wish,” he finished as he shot. The 8 ball, followed immediately by the cue ball, sank into the pocket with a thwuthwunk. You burst out laughing and raised your fists in triumph. 

“You lose, old man!” You squealed excitedly. Joel was staring at the pocket that had lost him the game, shocked that what you had predicted actually happened. “I win!” You did a little dance, jiggling your hips. Joel’s eyes twinkled as he watched you but he was forcing a frown, making himself look disappointed. 

“You win by default not ‘cause you actually beat me, sugar.” He pointed his pool cue at you and you giggled.

“A win is a win!” You said. Your round cheeks were glowing with warmth and you couldn’t believe your luck, both in the game and in the fact that Joel Miller had single handedly saved your evening. Joel was downing the end of his beer and you glanced around the bar for any sign of Daniel, he was gone and you weren’t disappointed but you were a little irritated. “Looks like I drove my date off,” 

Joel cast his eyes around the bar too and then shrugged. “You’re better off,” He said, setting his beer glass down on the bar. “C’mon, let me walk ya home.” He grabbed his coat from where he had thrown it over the end of the bar and pulled it on. 

“Oh…don’t worry about it, Joel, I’m fine.” You said, looking towards the door, you didn’t want to put him out, he had already been so nice to you. You licked your lower lip and then sucked it into your mouth, “Thanks for playing me though, you kind of rescued me.” You told him. Joel chuckled, “Uh-uh, Puddin’. I ain’t lettin you walk home alone,” he said. He gestured towards the door and you led the way out into the cool evening air. You were just in your dress and cardigan and you shivered as soon as the wind blew across your chest and ruffled the hem of your dress. 

“You ain’t got a jacket?” Joel asked, looking down at you. You shrugged, 

“It was warmer earlier,” You mumbled. Before you could stop him Joel shrugged out of his jacket and put it over your shoulders. “Joel-I can’t take your coat-”

“Quit arguein’ with me,” His voice was gruff and commanding, “I ain’t going to put up with it much longer,” He was teasing you but you knew better than to try to fend off his kindness. You walked across mainstreet and tried not to feel self conscious about the way his jacket wasn’t as big on you as it might have been on another girl. Ever since Daniel’s comments you hadn’t been able to shake the stupid self conscious internal monologue. 

���How’d you learn how to play pool?” Joel asked as you walked.

“My dad spent a lot of time in the Tipsy Bison when I was younger and being there was the best way to spend time with him so…I kinda taught myself pool to keep myself entertained,” You explained. Joel knew your dad had been a drunk. In Jackson, everyone knew everything about everyone else and you didn’t want to get into it anymore than that. In the quiet that followed, Joel’s arm snaked around your waist, his hand pressing into his own jacket against your side. You felt yourself tense up, wondering why he was doing this. Why would he want to hold you close like this? 

Your heart had momentarily fluttered when he touched you but then it sunk again. He must have seen you staring at him and then heard the way Daniel spoke to you, and being such a good guy,  he wanted to boost your confidence by offering a little physical touch. You took a step away from him and looked up at him, 

“You don’t have to do this,” You said. You stopped walking, pushing his hand back as his grip tried to follow you. Joel looked at you, confused, his brow furrowed.

“Do what?” he asked. 

“Walk me home to try and make me feel better about my date ditching, give me your coat, touch me just to make me feel like I’m not…not disgusting or something,” You said, shifting your weight from foot to foot uncomfortably. Joel’s face twisted a little and you waited for him to agree to stop, to leave you standing in the middle of the street but he didn’t move away. In fact he reached out and put a steady hand on your waist again, but this time between his jacket and your dress. 

“Beg your pardon, sweetheart, but, what the fuck?” He laughed out the words and you felt anger spike through you. You shoved his large hand back, away from you. 

“Don’t act like you didn’t hear what Daniel said to me back there! Don’t pretend that you’re touching me because you actually want to. I get it that you feel bad for me that no…no boy would want me.” Your lower lip trembled and you bit it fiercely, not wanting him to notice you were near tears. Joel’s eyes were blazing and his jaw was clenched, he was angry and you were sure it was because you had called him on his bullshit. 

“That nasty little boy who you had the misfortune of goin’ on a date with ain’t got nothin’ to do with me wantin’ to touch you,” Joel growled.  You turned to face him now. It was your turn to look confused. Something stuck in your throat and you couldn’t reply to him even though you found yourself wanting to argue with him. “If he didn’t wanna take ya home, it’s ‘cause he’s a stupid little boy who aint got any idea what to do.” Your eyes searched his face, looking for a sign of dishonesty.

“But-” You managed to blurt out, your voice trembling as much as your lip was. 

“The whole reason I haven’t dragged you back to my place already is because I’m too old and worn out for someone so pretty and full of life.” He looked almost sad as he said it, large hands  splayed as he explained. You couldn’t believe it. Joel had to know how wanted he was by an almost endless amount of women in Jackson. What kind of sick joke was this? Was he trying to make you throw yourself at him just so he could reject you? You tried to find the lie in the creases on his face but he was steady and everything about him screamed honesty but none of that lined up with your own idea of yourself. 

“But you’re so hot, Joel.” You breathed, “Why would you want me?” You asked, still trying to discover the lie, or uncover his joke. Joel’s eyes darkened again as he looked at you like you were completely insane, “Quit it,” He said, “Don’t you think for a single second that you’re the one reachin’ here, i’m old enough to be your daddy and you’re…look at you.” You could see barely controlled lust in his eyes as they roamed over your body and the way he did it didn’t make you feel like he was appraising you to see if you were worth it. He was appreciating you. Appreciating the way your breasts stretched the fabric of your dress and the way you could see the curve of your belly, the way your thighs pressed together. You stared at him, trying to take in the truth of his statement, trying to remember how pretty you had found yourself that morning before you had been reminded of all the insecurities of your teenage years. 

“Aw, fuck it,” Joel breathed. His big hands found your waist on one side and your neck on the other, dragging you into him. He had to lean over a little to press his lips into yours but he did it in one swift motion, holding you to him. The hand at your waist was tucked into his jacket again, squeezing the flesh of your side. His lips were a little chilled from the night air and they tasted so good, like beer and a heady, warm taste. His skin and beard were rough against your lips and cheeks as he kissed you. You started to forget your worry as he held you into him. 

“Been wantin’ to do that ever since I watched you kick that idiot’s ass at pool,” Joel mumbled as he broke away from you. Your eyes were glassy as you looked up at him, he was so close you could see all the crinkles around his eyes. 

“Do it again then,” You challenged, looking up at him from under your eyelashes. Joel didn’t need telling twice, he caught your bottom lip between his and sucked it into his mouth, nibbling as the hand at your neck moved up to cup your face. 

“You shouldn’t come home with me, I’m too old for you, puddin’”  he breathed into your mouth, laying another lingering kiss against your lips and breaking away to speak into the skin of your cheek, “But I want you to,” he said. There wasn’t an ounce of you that doubted him now, and his hand on your waist was greedily running over the dips and rolls you usually hated. His other hand had dropped to your hip, holding you steady.

“I want to,” You said to him through a smile. 

“You shouldn’t,” he responded, “You should be a good girl and go home,”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” You giggled, leaning your body into him, he supported your weight with his broad chest and as you spoke his hand at your waist caught your flesh tight in his grip while the hand at your hip dipped lower, grabbing the seat of your ass and pulling you flush against him. 

“You’re goin’ to regret that, puddin’,” Joel muttered, looking down into your eyes. You smiled at him and watched as the way he looked down at you turned from sweet and  almost loving,  into something like a predator stalking prey. In a swift motion he pulled back from you and bent slightly, lifting you at the waist and hauling you over his shoulder. 

“Joel! You cant-you’re going to hurt yourself,” You nearly shrieked, mortified at how hard it must have been to lift you. Joel let out a grunt and then a snort of laughter, 

“Yeah right, darlin.” He said, he didn’t even sound strained and you felt yourself melt a little. That was until he reached up and smacked your ass, hard. “You wanna come home with me? Lets get you home then,” he turned and started the other direction up the street. You dangled over his shoulder, his jacket practically hanging off of your arms and his arm wrapped around your thighs was the only thing that kept your dress from falling above your head. 

Joel walked all the way to his house with you over his shoulder, and even managed to get the front door open and you over the threshold before he bent to set you onto your feet. You had barely recovered from hanging over his back when his hands were on you again, pressing you back against the wall of his entryway. He kissed your lips but only briefly before he started to work his lips down your cheek, your chin, your jaw. You could feel the strength of his hands as he tightened them against your hips, keeping you pressed into the wall. His lips and stubble pressed into you. kissing prickly heat into your neck. The heat from his lips burned down your throat and into your stomach, melting you. Joel’s fingers found the sleeves of your dress and started to take them down. 

“God, I gotta see all of your pretty body, darlin’” he said into your neck. With a tug the dress pulled down. You had worn your favorite bra, a simple unlined cream colored one. There wasn’t much for sexy lingerie in Jackson but this one was relatively new, clean and had scalloped edges. Joel’s pulled back to let his eyes wander down your chest, “As pretty as this is,” he started, his finger tracing the edge of your bra along the curve of your ample breast. “Its comin’ off,” he finished before reaching around and unhooking it with deft, skilled fingers. He tugged it off of your arms and exposed your jiggling, heavy breasts. 

“Fuck, puddin’, look at these.” Joel’s cupped your tits, palms pressing into your hardening nipples. His fingers dug in, dimpling the soft skin of your breasts. You sighed at the feeling of him touching you, his pointer fingers slipped down and stroked around your nipples. The skin puckered even more and you pressed your chest forward, letting out a shy sigh. “That’s a good girl,” he breathed. He replaced his finger on one of your nipples with his mouth, kissing your areola and letting his tongue flutter around the pebbled tip of your nipple. His hands dropped to the hem of your dress and he started to ruck it up your body. You let out a little whine, putting your hand over his to make him pause,

“You…you don’t have to take that off,” You mumbled, as if giving him permission to keep you partially covered. You didn’t think he’d want to see your whole body. You felt like it might ruin his excitement if he saw your round belly and the way it moved and wiggled as you adjusted or breathed heavily. 

Joel stared at you like you were completely insane, “Oh babygirl, it’s comin’ off unless you tell me otherwise in three…” He tugged it up farther, the dress sliding up past your thighs to where your sex was covered by your simple underwear. “Two…” He continued to gather it in his fists, revealing the curve of your belly. You couldn’t find words to stop him. You  were shy about your naked body but Joel made you feel like he wanted to see you so you let him. “One,” The hem of the dress met the spot where he had tugged the bodice down to reveal your breasts and Joel gathered the whole thing in one loop of fabric around your body and tugged it up and off of your heads o you were bare except for your underwear in front of him. You immediately crossed your arms in front of your belly, instinctively wanting to hide it from him, even though you had let him strip you while you were standing in his entryway. 

Joel leaned in towards your, his lips hovering above yours as he looked down at you; one of his hands trailed down your arm and collected first your right wrist and then your left one in his big hand. In a fluid motion you weren’t expecting he lifted your wrists above your head and pressed them into the wall. 

“Don’t do that to me, puddin’, don’t hide yourself from me.” He breathed, you felt the warmth of his breath wash over your lips and you craved his mouth on yours again. You were leaning into him, trying to get to his lips but he didn’t indulge you; he pulled back enough so that he could look down your body, his hand still holding both your wrists above your head. You swallowed as his gaze lit on every inch of your body that you were most ashamed of, but instead of making you feel judged or uncomfortable, it only drove your lust deeper. The way Joel looked at you was with such appreciation, and a feral need. Joel growled as he looked you over, pressing your hands harder against the wall, keeping you there as he pressed his clothed body against your naked one. You wanted to get him undressed, you wanted to touch him and look at him the way he was looking at you but there was also something so vulgar and sexy about being naked while he stood in front of you completely clothed, appreciating your nudity. 

“Are you goin’ to be good and keep your hands away from your body? I don’t want ya coverin’ up again,” He said, the tip of his nose ran along the side of your nose, his lips just out of reach from yours. You nodded,

“Yes.” your voice was weak and strained with need. 

“That’s my good, pretty girl.” Joel’s lips twitched towards a smile while he spoke to you. Your body reacted to the words in a way that surprised you, you shivered, your nipples hardening even more, there was a rushing feeling in your lower tummy, slipping into your cunt. Joel removed his hand from your wrists, your hands dropped but you didn’t try to cover yourself again; instead you reached out and took his waist, pulling him close to you. Your brow furrowed in need as you looked up into his eyes. Joel stroked your cheek with the back of his fingers, “Can you keep being a good girl even if I get ya completely naked, puddin’?” He asked, his brown eyes focused on yours. You swallowed, trying to drown your own anxieties and fears because being naked for him sounded so good. You nodded. 

“I wanna hear you say you’ll be good for me,” He chastised, his eyes sparkling, teasing.. Waxy warmth continued to pool in your tummy and drip lower, making you feel like your pussy was melting into your underwear. 

“I can be good,” You let the words fall out before you could think twice about them.

“Atta girl,” and with that he eased down onto his knees, letting out a short groan as his knees creaked. You hadn’t been expecting him to be level with your pussy so quickly and you gasped as his fingers hooked into the sides of your panties and ripped them down without any level of ceremony. You resisted the urge to cover yourself, you felt so sure he would be disgusted by your pussy you didn’t want to give him the chance to see it but you reminded yourself that he really, actually thought you were beautiful. He had not been lying. He hadn’t been joking and if Joel Miller thought you were beautiful, it was clearly true. You kept your hands way from him as you felt his gaze move to your pussy,. 

“Lord help me, I’m fuckin’ lucky. She’s so fuckin’ pretty.” Joel’s words sounded like a prayer, half under his breath, half through a growl in his chest. You watched as his eyes examined you, his hands running up and down your trembling thighs, trying to sooth you. You felt tense until his eyes moved from your pussy in front of him, up into your eyes. You melted a little when you recognized the intense need behind his eyes. 

“Spread your legs, I need to see her more…fuck i need to taste her, darlin’” He informed you.  You felt your cunt clench at the words. No one had ever eaten you out before and the thought of it sent shivers down your spine. You worried internally that he would find it disgusting but he was on his knees in front of you, saying he wanted to so you took him at his word and stepped your feet apart more, looking down at him. His eyes fell again to your pussy, and his fingers crawled up your thighs until he was at the apex of your thighs.  His hand cupped your whole plush pussy in his hand, his thumb running up and down your slick slit. Joel let out a purr of approval as he felt your wetness. 

“There’s my girl,” He whispered, his voice sounded horse and you felt the wetness between your legs seep out against the ministrations of his thumb. “You’re drippin’, honey,” He told you, eyes flicking back up to your face. You let out a whine, embarrassed by how needy you were. You reached up and covered your face with your hand,

“Joel, it’s…it’s embarrassing,” You whined, your words sounded like they were stuck in your throat. 

“I know, sugar, but it’s so pretty. Aint nothin’ to be embarrassed about,” He pulled his hand away, as his thumb disconnected with your slit you watched in vague humiliation as a string of your wetness connected his thumb to your pussy lips. When it broke, Joel brought his thumb to his mouth and sucked the bit of your juices off of it. 

He let out a low moan in his chest, it bubbled up and seemed to overtake him. He grabbed one of your thighs and lifted it so you had to lean back against the wall to maintain your balance. Joel’s hand fixed under your knee and hooked your leg over his shoulder. You felt your pussy open more for him, your lips parting as Joel’s eyes roamed over you,

“There she is…” he breathed, the fingers of his other hand found your waiting pussy lips and stroked up and down. You squeaked out your pleasure as the pads of  his fingers grazed along your wetness and brushed your clit. Before you had recovered from that,Joel leaned forward and licked a stripe up your pussy. You gasped and tensed so much that you stood up on the tiptoes of your foot that was planted on the ground. 

“Oh my god! Joel!” You gasped and he tilted his head back to look up at you,

“Aint you ever had someone lick this pretty pussy?” He asked.  You mutely shook your head and his eyes softened and then he let out a chuckle, “Oh honey,” he said. “Let’s take her apart, yeah?” You nodded and his mouth moved back to your pussy, lapping at your wetness. 

One hand stayed on the underside of the leg wrapped around his shoulder, keeping you open for him and his other hand roamed up your thigh, to your belly. His tongue lavished first along each inner lip, teasing up towards your clit but never touching it, then down towards the source of your wetness. Your cunt clenched each time his tongue neared your entrance. The hand on your tummy pressed in, squeezing the flesh there, dimpling your skin and pressing you back. The acknowledgment of the chubbiness of your belly would have usually made you self conscious but the way his thumb rubbed along your skin and the way he squeezed it so possessively made your pussy gush even more. Your hand fell to the silver curls on his head and you grabbed them, not pulling him in, not pushing him back, just having something to anchor yourself there. 

You felt him hum and growl into your pussy, and it sent vibrations skittering through you. Joel’s tongue was an expert at pleasuring you, the second you felt like you needed more, he would lick up to your clit, still barely grazing it. The second you felt like you might be overwhelmed with pleasure, he would back off and plant slow, wet, languid kisses closer to your hole. Nothing had ever felt like this before. Nothing had given you this intense need. 

You fisted your fingers into his hair and it only spurred him on, his tongue moved back up to your clit and started to work over it in a tight pattern of circles, sweeping over it, working you up, up, up. 

“Come on, puddin’, you gonna come on my face?” he asked into the folds of your soaked pussy. You whined, holding his hair tighter. His fingers squeezed on your belly and your thick thigh, “I know you’re close, babygirl, I can feel it.” He said before putting all his attention on your clit again, this time sucking it into his mouth. You felt like you were about to black out when he added small nibbles to the mix. You saw black around your vision as Joel took you over the edge. Your orgasm overtook you very suddenly, dropping you off the cliff and making you throw your head back, smacking it against the wall. It didn’t matter though, nothing hurt, the pleasure coursing through you made you stand up on your toes again, pressing more of your weight onto Joel’s shoulder. But he held you steady, licking your clit through your orgasm. When he finally let you go, you dropped your leg from around his shoulder, you were about to apologize but it was like he could tell because he shut you up with a kiss, his mouth pressed into yours. You could taste yourself on him, heady and warm. 

“I need ya, babygirl,” He said into your mouth. “Gotta feel my girl wrapped around my cock,” He mumbled as his hands cupped your cheeks and held you up against him, his lips centimeters from yours. You nodded. 

“Yes, Joel, yes I need your cock,” You breathed into him and you felt his lips twitch into a smile. His hands moved to your arms and he grabbed them, turning you around towards the entryway to his living room. Your tummy jiggled a little at the sudden movement and your breasts swayed. You were now very aware of how naked you were and how fully clothed he was. Still holding your upper arms he leaned down behind you to whisper into your ear, 

“Be a good girl and help an old man out, go bend over the arm of the couch. Show off that ass,” He spanked your ass once to get you moving and, trembling, you went through the doorway into the living room. The couch arm was high enough that you could easily bend at the waist over it, using it to support yourself. You arched your back, hoping you were providing a sexy view of yourself but you worried so much about the way your hips widened and how if your ass looked too big sticking out like that. 

You heard Joel behind you, the jingled of a belt buckle and then the slide of a zipper. He moved behind you and you could feel the heat of him against you, rough denim against your soft skin. 

“I feel like I’ve died and gone to heaven, baby, look at you!” Joel huffed out as his hands slid over your ample hips and cupped the thickness of your ass. You felt him pull at your asscheek so it spread slightly, showing off your pussy to him. “You’re so soft and pretty for me,” His hand traveled up your back and then back down to your ass, “And that delicious pussy peaking out for me, sayin’ hello.” His fingers slipped lower and stroked over your still soaking lips, pressing at your entrance, teasing it. You let out a moan. 

“You…you really think I look pretty like this?” You asked nervously, you couldn’t help it, you were trying to force yourself to believe it.  You looked back over your shoulder nervously, still trying to search for the joke. 

Joel moved his hand from your pussy and grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling you back so your head was pulled back and he leaned over your body to speak into your ears

“Yes.” He said. “Do you not believe it? Do you need me to show you how fuckin’ sexy I think you are?” he asked. Joel rutted his hips up against yours, you could feel his hardness against you, the bulge against his boxers, pressing into you. You gasped and nodded. “Alrigh’ darlin’ i’ll show ya,” He let go of your hair with a little push and you instinctively arched your back, showing yourself off to him. Joel’s hands moved to his boxers, tugging his big cock out. It slapped against your ass cheek and you gasped again. 

“You feel him, puddin’?” he asked, his hand wrapping around himself and rubbing it along your slit. “Think you can take all of him in that tight little thing?” He asked, he notched the bulbous head of his cock at the entrance of your cunt and you already felt him stretching you a little. Suddenly you weren’t so sure you could but you wanted it, badly. You nodded vigorously and he started to press his cock head into your twitching pussy. You let out a moan and his hands gripped your hips, pulling you back into him. “There’s a good girl, that feel good?” He asked. You couldn’t speak, you felt like you were drunk, he was splitting you open for him, carving out a space for himself in your cunt. You nodded again and his hand came down sharply on your asscheek, “Words, puddin’, lemme hear you ask for more  o’him in that…Jesus Christ…tight pussy.” He moaned out through gritted teeth. 

“Oh…god, please put more in me, Joel! Fill me up.” You could barely get the words out because you were seeing stars. Joel pressed himself in deeper and deeper until he bottomed out inside of you. You could feel his eyes glued to the place where your bodies connected, watching the way you wrapped so tightly around his cock. 

“You’ve got a bit of a filthy mouth,” He laughed.  “I wanna hear more of that,” The laugh turned to a growl as he dragged his hips back, the walls of your pussy contracting, trying desperately to keep Joel’s big dick inside of you. Joel rocked himself back into you, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix, hitting a spot inside of you that tingled all throughout your body. 

“Fuck!” you moaned, “Joel! Don’t…don’t stop fucking me, please, please, I need your cock in me.” You moaned. Joel gave you exactly what you needed, pumping his cock in and out of you over and over, filling you up, stretching you for him. You could feel another orgasm building and it shocked you, another orgasm so soon and one caused just by his cock inside of you was unheard of for you. Your breathing was ragged as you pressed yourself back into him and he clamped his hands on your hips, guiding you back. 

“You want to come again, dont you?” Joel asked. 

“Yes! Yes! Please!” You moaned. 

“Yeah, I can feel you clenching on me.” His voice was stained, working towards his own release. “First you come on my face and now you wanna come on my dick?” he asked. You nodded again, your heart was hammering and all you wanted was to feel his release inside of you while you came all over his cock but you doubted Joel would be willing to come inside of you, it was too risky. Joel groaned again, his hips thrusting more sloppily into you, you could tell he was close to his own orgasm, he was chasing it desperately. You were so close, your legs were shaking, but then Joel had pulled out of you, his hand pumped over his cock twice and you felt ropes of his hot spend fall against your back and down your ass cheeks. Your pussy clenched on nothing, desperate for more. “Oh good girl, good fuckin’ girl,” He moaned, watching his own come spread across your back and ass. 

Joel didn’t forget that you had been practically begging for it, even as he came down from his own release he wrapped his arm around you, reaching between your legs and finding your clit, starting to stroke it with deftness that bordered on expertise.

“I wanna watch you come, puddin’,” His voice seemed to float to youfrom far away. You let out a weak moan and arched your back, his fingers worked tight circles around your clit while the fingers of his other hand replaced his cock in your pussy, two thick fingers working you open. 

“You gotta tell me when you’re going to come,” He breathed. Joel watched as his fingers fucked into you and you pressed yourself back. You could feel his come slipping down between your asscheeks and you longed for it inside of you. The fingers at your clit brushed over it again and again, sending you into a dizzying frenzy, incoherent moaning and babbling slipped from your lips. This orgasm came over you in a a steady sort of pulse that worked from you clit as he toyed with it into your cunt as he curled his fingers up, stroking the walls of your pussy.

“I’m…I’m coming!” you gasped out and Joel tugged his fingers out of your pussy. You gasped at the loss but his fingers on your clit still teased you through it, “Fuck, Joel!” You moaned, clenching on nothing, feeling his eyes on your pussy, eating up the look of your empty cunt begging for more. 

“Oh christ, darlin’ your pulsing for it.” He breathed and his words spurred your orgasm further, making you gasp and collapse forward against the couch. Joel’s hand slowly eased away from you and rubbed up your spine, catching his breath. You were wrecked and you could feel his come still trickling down your back, your orgasm had been so good but you found yourself still desperate to be full of his cock again already. Probably because he hadn’t even finger fucked you through your orgasm. There was the quiet sound of movement behind you and then footsteps. You didn’t want to get up because of the mess all down your back but before you had time to do anything, Joel came back and used a towel to wipe down your back and your ass. Joel reached down and helped you stand up, his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled your ample body against his, smushing you against him.

“Let’s get you to the bed before you start begging for my cock again,” He smirked and you giggled and hid your face in his shoulder,

“I can’t believe you actually-“

“Nuh-uh…none of that. Get your sweet ass to bed,” He said into your ear, his hands gliding over your curvy hips and down to your ass. “I stared at your ass the whole time you played eight ball with that idiot,” He said. “And I finally got to feel it.” You pulled back to look up at him, eyes shining. He squeezed your plump ass, “I do think you owe me a rematch in pool though,” Joel said with a smirk. 

“Okay but only if you also let me come on your cock next time,” You said even though your face heated up and you had to look away in embarrassment. Joel took your chin and forced you to look back at him,

“If you beat me, you can come on my cock. If you don’t…well, we’ll see.” His eyes sparkled and your  heart squeezed.

“Deal.”

[wholoveseggs]

Hey lovely, today request from me🥰

I got struck on an idea where reader tried to dominate Elijah but always fail so, she get Klaus help with some magical witchy rope or something to subdue him, which was successful.

Tho here's the thing, reader is inexperienced in doing something like that and not prepped enough to take him, cuz y'know Elijah is big.. hehehe😌🤭so she started tear up, and ask for his help. Elijah being a smug he is punish her happily after...can you added a sprinkle of daddy kink and overstimulation, pretty puh-lease with the cherry on top🙏🥺

Oh btw your story always superb 🤩 😁

Bindings

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

You ask Davina for help with creating something to tie up Elijah... only for you to get in way over your head. Luckily, he is in a forgiving mood.

♡♡ Thanks for the request anon! I decided to change it from Klaus to Davina, because I just can't see Klaus being okay with you essentially making a weapon against his family... Even if the reason behind it is just for some kinky fun ♡♡

4.9k words - Warnings: smut, *magical* bondage, dom!elijah, daddy!kink, spanking, choking, sex toys and a whole lotta praise...

You sat in Davina's greenhouse, looking around at all the various plants and flowers the young witch had collected. You had asked Davina to meet up with you to help with a problem, one that was a bit awkward to even say out loud, but you knew that she of all people would understand.

You watched her browse through her books, trying to find the spell you had requested. After a few moments, Davina had found the page and started gathering the items needed.

"Davina?" you said.

She looked up from the table and gave you a curious look. "Yeah?"

"You don't think this is a little crazy? I mean, it's a bit of a long shot."

Davina smiled. "Not at all. I may have.... tried it myself... with Kol," she replied, looking away with a light blush.

Your eyes went wide. "Oh, my God. It worked?"

She shrugged trying to appear cool, but her mischievous grin gave away her answer. You smiled back and the two of you quickly dissolved into a fit of giggles.

After the laughter had calmed down, you looked at her questioningly. "So, how does it work?"

Davina took a seat on the couch next to you and showed you the spell she had found.

"The basic binding is actually quite simple, it's the ingredients that are tricky," she explained, "luckily I have white oak ash, and the rest should be easy to find."

You nodded and listened intently as Davina read through the list of ingredients and their uses. She began by grinding the herbs and mixing them in a bowl, followed by the white oak ash.

Once the mixture was complete, Davina took a long silk rope that you had provided and dipped it in the bowl. She held the rope above the bowl, letting the excess liquid drip off as she chanted the incantation.

"Done," Davina announced, handing you the now-dry rope. "It will keep him bound and unable to break free. You can use it any way you'd like." She grinned, giving you a knowing look.

You couldn't believe how easy it had been, that you were so close to fulfilling a long-held fantasy of yours. "Thank you, Davina. You're the best," you said, pulling her into a hug.

She hugged you back, giggling as she pulled away. "One more thing, if you need to break the spell, just say 'confractus' and it will untie itself,"

You nodded, thanking her again before making your way home, the rope clutched tightly in your hand.

It was the most expensive piece of clothing you had ever purchased. It wasn't even something you could wear outside your bedroom, but damn, did it make you feel sexy.

The lingerie was a red, sheer babydoll dress with black lace trim, and it was paired with a matching thong and stockings. You had never worn anything so revealing before, but you knew Elijah would like it, and that was all that mattered.

You wanted to get him all worked up, break down the gentleman facade, make him want you so badly that he would do whatever you asked. You had been waiting for the right moment to try the rope Davina had created, and you were certain that tonight was the night.

You pulled a robe over your outfit, concealing it until the right moment. Then you sat back on your bed and texted Elijah.

"Are you free tonight?"

A few moments later, your phone vibrated.

"For you, always."

You grinned and quickly replied, "Come over."

He sent a thumbs up, and you tossed your phone aside, your nerves kept you from sitting still, and you spent the next ten minutes pacing anxiously around the room. When you finally heard a knock on the door, you jumped, startled by the sound. You took a deep breath and walked to the front of your apartment.

When you opened the door, you were greeted by a sight that made your mouth water. Elijah was dressed casually, in just a t-shirt and jeans, it was a rare sight, and one that had you practically drooling.

You stood there in silence for a moment, taking in the sight of him, until he cleared his throat and asked, "Can I come in?"

"Yes, sorry. Come in." You stepped aside, gesturing for him to enter.

As soon as he crossed the threshold, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. You let yourself melt into him, enjoying the feeling of his arms wrapped around you.

"What's this for?" You asked, teasingly tugging on his t-shirt, your hands roaming across his broad chest. "Has your dry-cleaner gone and quit on you?"

He chuckled and shook his head. "I figured we would just have a quiet night in. No need for the formalities."

You nodded, your hands traveling down to his waist. You felt his body tense slightly when your fingers began to dance along the bare skin under the hem of his shirt.

"Well, I have a surprise for you," you said, looking up at him with a mischievous smile.

He raised an eyebrow and gave you a curious look. "A surprise? Well, now I'm intrigued."

You laughed and grabbed his hand, leading him to your bedroom. Once inside, you turned and faced him, taking a deep breath before you began to untie your robe. But then you stopped, looking at him with a naughty smirk.

"Take off your shirt," you ordered, your voice suddenly more confident.

He looked surprised by your words, but quickly obliged, pulling the t-shirt over his head and tossing it aside.

"Hmmm," you smiled as your eyes traveled down his body, appreciating his toned abs and muscular arms, lingering on where a trail of dark hair disappeared into his jeans. "Now the pants."

You watched as his hands moved to unbutton his jeans. He kept his gaze locked on you, his dark eyes filled with lust. Once the pants were undone, he slowly pushed them down, revealing his black boxer briefs and the outline of his half-hard cock.

Your mouth watered at the sight, but you knew this was just the beginning. As much as you wanted to rip his clothes off and fuck him senseless, you had a plan, and you were determined to stick to it.

"Get on the bed," you commanded, gesturing to the large mattress behind him.

He climbed onto the bed, sitting back against the pillows and watching you with curiosity. You untied the belt of your robe and let it fall open, revealing the sheer lingerie underneath.

Elijah's jaw dropped, his eyes widening as they traveled over your body.

"Do you like it?" You asked, teasingly running a finger along the edge of the lace trim.

He nodded, unable to speak, his cock already fully hard and straining against his underwear.

"Good, because I want you to do something for me," you said, your voice low and husky.

He nodded again, his gaze fixed on you.

"Take off your underwear and stroke your cock."

You watched him pull his boxer briefs down and wrap his large hand around his thick shaft, slowly stroking himself.

The sight of him pleasuring himself made your own arousal grow. You let your robe drop to the floor and climbed onto the bed, straddling his thighs.

He groaned, his eyes never leaving your body as he continued stroking his cock.

"Darling, you are a vision," he breathed, his voice deep and raspy with desire.

You felt heat pooling between your legs, your nipples hardening beneath the thin fabric of your lingerie.

You leaned in and kissed him, your tongues battling for dominance as you moaned into his mouth. His other hand came up to grab your ass, pulling you closer.

He was breathing heavily, his eyes dark with lust.

"Touch yourself," he growled, his lips brushing against yours.

"No," you smirked, "I have something else in mind."

You reached over and picked up the rope, which you had placed within reach on the nightstand. You watched his eyes widen, his hand stopping its movements as he stared at the rope.

"Do you want me to tie you up?" He grinned, his hand starting to stroke his cock again.

"I have something else in mind," you repeated.

Elijah raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued.

"Hands up," you commanded, leaning back slightly to give him space.

He paused for a moment before lifting his arms above his head, resting them on the pillow behind him.

You brought the rope over his wrists, looping it around and tying them together. He chuckled, his eyes darkening as he realized what you were doing.

"I never took you for a bondage girl, darling."

"There's a lot of things you don't know about me," you replied, your tone playful as you pulled the rope tighter.

"Unfortunately I don't think this silk rope will hold me," he said, smirking as he tugged at the restraints.

You ignored him, continuing to tie his wrists to the headboard. Once you were satisfied with the knots, you sat back and admired your work, enjoying the way he looked helpless and at your mercy.

"Oh yeah?" You questioned, trailing a finger down his chest and abs, watching him shiver.

You slowly shrugged off one of the straps of your babydoll, letting the top slide down, exposing one breast.

His eyes fixated on your bare chest, his tongue darting out to lick his lips.

"Mmmm," you hummed, rolling the hard bud between your fingers, teasing him. Then you did the same with the other strap, pushing the top down until your breasts were completely exposed.

Elijah let out a low moan, his cock twitching against his stomach.

"God, you're so fucking beautiful," he growled, his eyes burning with desire.

"Do you want to touch them daddy?" You cooed, running your hands up and down your breasts.

"Yes," he hissed, his hips bucking up involuntarily.

"Go ahead, tear the rope and touch me."

"Gladly."

He tugged at the rope, once, twice, three times. It didn't budge, much to his surprise.

"How the..." he started to say, looking up at the knotted rope.

"It's just a bit of magic," you smirked, your confidence growing as you watched him struggle.

You knew the ropes wouldn't hold him forever, but you planned on making the most of the time they did.

"Now, where were we?" You leaned forward, bringing your breasts close to his face.

He craned his neck up, trying to capture one of your nipples with his mouth, but you pulled away, denying him.

"Uh uh," you scolded, "You can look, but no touching."

You moved forward again, brushing your breast against his lips. He eagerly opened his mouth, trying to suck on the hardened peak, but you kept it just out of reach.

"I will be free soon enough, little one," he growled, his eyes locking onto yours, "and when I am, you're going to be punished for teasing me."

His words sent a thrill through you, but you remained calm, refusing to show him any signs of weakness.

"Oh yeah? What are you going to do, daddy?" You asked, taunting him as you rolled your hips, your wetness coating his skin.

He groaned at the sensation, his dark, lust-filled eyes watched as you began to touch his body, teasing and tormenting him.

You raked your nails down his chest and abs, earning a hiss of pleasure. You licked a hot stripe up his neck, biting his earlobe before moving to his lips. You kissed him roughly, your teeth grazing his lower lip, and he moaned, deepening the kiss.

Your hand went to his cock, stroking it slowly as he tried to buck his hips into your touch. You pulled back, smirking at him.

"You're not going to come until I say you can, understood?"

"Yes, my dear," he breathed, his eyes closing in pleasure as you tightened your grip on his shaft.

"Good boy."

You kissed him again, your tongues dancing together as you pumped his cock. He moaned into your mouth, his hips thrusting upwards, desperate for release.

You broke the kiss, looking down at him with a smirk. You couldn't wait any longer, you had to have him.

You positioned yourself over his throbbing member, lining him up with your entrance. You felt a flash of nervousness, not knowing how well you would be able to take him, but the excitement overrode the anxiety.

You lowered yourself down slowly, his thick cock stretching you open, filling you inch by inch.

"Fuck, Elijah," you moaned, burying your face into the crook of his neck, the feeling of him buried so deep, making your legs shake.

He hummed, his biceps straining against the rope as he struggled to break free. You placed your hands on his chest, using him as leverage as you began to ride him.

You knew right away that you were in trouble. Usually Elijah would take the lead, getting you all wet and worked up, he always took his time, and the pleasure he brought was slow and delicious.

But this, being on top and having all the control, was something you hadn't experienced before. It was intense, and you weren't sure if you could handle it.

Your thighs were burning as you lifted yourself up and down, but you were determined to keep going. Your eyes met his and the sight of his pupils blown wide with desire was enough encouragement for you to continue.

You rode him faster, your breath coming in short gasps. You were getting close, so close, but it was somehow all too much and not enough. You didn't think it would be this much work, and you could feel your energy waning.

It was a terrible feeling, finally getting what you wanted and being disappointed by it. You had been so confident, but now your thighs were burning and you were struggling to keep up a steady rhythm.

You looked at the ropes, seeing that they were still secure. There was no way you would be able to finish this yourself. You were going to need help.

"Eli," you whimpered, your nails digging into his chest.

"Yes, my dear," he groaned.

"I-I'm not sure... If I can keep going," you admitted, panting as you struggled to continue, a frustrated tear rolling down your cheek.

"Well, I'm still quite enjoying myself. You look absolutely exquisite like this," he teased, his eyes roaming your body.

"Elijah," you whined, "please. I-I can't."

He gave you a knowing smirk. "If you can't keep up, maybe I should be the one in charge."

"Please," you begged, your face flushing as the humiliation of being denied what you wanted so badly washed over you.

"You created this problem for yourself, little one," he reminded, "but luckily, I'm in a giving mood."

You nodded, grateful that he was willing to help you, even if he did enjoy teasing you about it. You reached up and undid the knots, releasing his hands from their restraints.

As soon as his hands were free, Elijah gripped your hips, flipping you over so he was on top. You yelped in surprise, the sudden change in position leaving you breathless.

"You are such a good girl," he praised, his voice husky with desire. "So eager to please."

He kissed you hungrily, his hands exploring your body, his fingers tugging at the hem of your lingerie.

"And this," he murmured against your lips, "is very pretty. But I'm afraid I'm going to have to tear it."

Before you could protest, he ripped the babydoll in half, exposing your entire body to him. He tossed the torn fabric aside, his dark eyes roaming your naked form.

"But it was expensive," you half-protested, even though you were throbbing at the gesture of dominance and disregard.

He growled and pinched your nipple, earning a sharp gasp, then he soothed it with a swirl of his tongue, a wicked glint in his eyes.

"How much did that little magical rope cost you?"

You shuddered, already realizing this was the price you had to pay. You knew he would punish you for this stunt and it turned you on more.

"N-nothing, it was a favor from a friend," you muttered.

He didn't like the vagueness of your answer and took the rope and tied it around your wrists as he started kissing you again, your tongue clashing with his, while his large hand roamed your body, tweaking your nipples, earning a soft moan, and then traveling down south, running his fingertips along your skin, teasing and tickling you softly.

"You are going to do exactly as I say now, understood?" he mumbled against your skin.

"Y-Yes, Daddy," you whined, already desperately bucking against his hand.

Elijah released you, flipping you onto your stomach and dragging you to the head of the bed, tying the rope to the headboard so your arms are stretched high over your head. You were on your knees, and completely under his power.

You heard him rummaging around in his dresser and your heart began beating quickly from nervousness and excitement.

He kissed the back of your neck, the heat of his body warming you, and causing goosebumps to cover your skin. The smell of his cologne wrapped around you and you instinctively arched into his embrace.

"My sweet pet, are you ready to be punished?" he asked as he held one of his ties in front of your face, "Do you have a safe word?"

Your mind raced as he put the tie over your eyes. You quickly selected a word, just in case you needed it, though you sincerely doubted that would happen. Even when he was dominant like this, he always put your pleasure first, but you wanted him to believe you were scared.

"Coffee."

"Excellent," he replied as the smooth fabric was tied tightly around your head.

You tried to lean forward but couldn't move an inch with the rope around your wrists. This rope has successfully restrained Elijah, there was no way you were getting free until he cut you loose.

"I must say… that magic rope is quite a dangerous weapon, a threat to my family." He whispered against your ear, a hint of danger in his voice, sending an excited tingle through you.

You suddenly felt his strong hand wrap tightly around your neck. He wasn't squeezing yet but he was definitely letting you know who's in charge.

"You and I both know how I handle threats to my family," he said, pressing a kiss against your neck.

A moan escaped your lips and you could hear him chuckle. You were so wound up, you weren't sure how long you could take this.

"Stay quiet," Elijah commanded.

As if in punishment, he withdrew his hand from your throat, and you almost immediately missed the feeling of his warm hand against you. A sudden slap to your ass made your body jolt.

It burned from the force of it, his large, powerful palm practically covering your entire cheek. Every sensation was heightened by the tie around your eyes and you felt your whole body heating up, your blood rushing in anticipation of what was to come.

He hit you again, on the same cheek, harder than the last time. The sound of his hand hitting your flesh seemed to fill the room. Tears pooled in your covered eyes, the burning sensation making your body hum in pleasure, mixed with a bit of pain.

You weren't sure if you could handle one more of his heavy-handed swats. Your arms hurt from being pulled high above your head, and your wrists were already chafing.

You heard him reach into your night stand, searching for something that would bring you a different kind of pain. He found what he was looking for, trailing it down your spine. It was cold and smooth, and it made your stomach drop when you realized what it was.

"Eli- wait," you protested, none of this night was going to plan, but this? You had fantasized about it, sure, but this was-

Your mind went blank when he pushed it inside you, and without mercy, he switched it on. It buzzed to life and the sudden onslaught of the vibrations made your legs shake uncontrollably, your wrists burning slightly as you pulled on them.

It was like you were filled with electricity. And the noises you were making? They were a mix of moans and pleas for release, your body already nearing its limit.

His hand was gone, no more spanking and yet- the buzzing didn't stop, you had no release in sight and that's when you realized your mistake. He wasn't going to let you finish, the intention to drive you near your peak only to take you back down.

It was torture.

And you were absolutely loving it.

The minutes seem to tick by, maybe hours. Who knows anymore. All you're aware of is your trembling thighs, sweat glistening your back and your voice, cracking slightly as you scream and moan, writhing at the touch of his hand, then the hard buzzing once again.

"Hmm, we've never tried this setting before," he mused.

"Please Eli-"

He increased the intensity, a loud buzz echoing the room, and a series of vulgar curses escaping your lips, making him laugh.

The vibrator inside you was now pulsing at a rapid pace, the pleasure blinding, building, and there's nothing you can do to prevent the inevitable.

"Don't you dare come," he ordered.

"I can't-" you began, already starting to crumble under his control.

He gave the end of the vibrator a small twist and it hit a new spot that was pure euphoria. You tried to hold on, but it was impossible, your vision went white as an orgasm rocked through you, stealing your breath away, and all of the pent up tension that was burning in the depths of your core.

You let out an ecstasy-laced scream, every fiber in you igniting, every nerve firing at once as an immense surge of pleasure washed through your trembling body, shaking you to the core.

In that moment there was only bliss. The kind of sweet bliss that washes over your exhausted form, turning your limbs to rubber and melting your insides.

Your wrists ached, and you expected Elijah to untie you, but he had gone perfectly still behind you. Your heart began to race, suddenly filled with worry about whether he had become angered by your release. You honestly couldn't undergo another round of his erotic torture and live through it.

The silence and inaction was far worse than any punishment and you felt fear creep up your neck. Suddenly the vibrator turned back on at the max setting and his hand came down hard on your ass once again, leaving it stinging and burning, and tears brimming your lids, even as your body reacted with arousal.

You weren't even sure if your wrists could survive another round and it didn't help that the orgasm had made you sensitive to the point of numbness, but you can already feel your legs shaking, threatening to buckle underneath your exhausted form.

"Daddy, please I can't. I'll pass-" you started, the warning cut off with another slap.

You couldn't do it anymore, your wrists hurt more than the spanking. You remembered Davina had said that the rope could be undone with one word from you. Just as another spank was about to rain down, you rasped out 'confractus' and the rope fell off your wrists. You didn't waste a second, the moment you felt your hands free, you were tugging the blindfold down and pulling the vibrator out of you, tossing it across the bed and collapsing.

Elijah looked a bit shocked by your sudden escape, but that didn't stop him. With you no longer held in the bindings, he took it as another reason to keep punishing you and he grabbed your hips and pulled you underneath him.

His eyes were hard and wild, almost black, and his lips were curled up in a delicious smirk as he locked eyes with yours. The blindfold was held tight against your neck with one hand, keeping the pressure just enough to cause slight discomfort.

But then his eyes flicked to your wrists and the damage that had been done. The burns were deep, almost red and his demeanor changed instantly. His expression went soft, filled with remorse, but his dark, lust-filled eyes didn't change, still heated and primal, and needing release.

"I sometimes forget how delicate you are," he said softly, taking one of your wrists into his hand and giving a gentle kiss.

You flinched a little from the sting of it, watching his apology fill his eyes. You knew his guilt and self loathing was about to start, but before he could pull away, you reached up and grabbed the back of his neck and smashed your lips against his.

"I love when you get like this Eli," you admitted as the kiss broke, "Punishing me, fucking me, owning me. So don't start beating yourself up."

His response was an immediate hot sigh against your lips, relieved that he didn't hurt you.

"You do like the attention, do you?" he teased lightly, nuzzling your nose.

You nod, giving another kiss to the tip of his nose. "Always, but can you make this punishment worth it? It better end in a long, hot shower together or I might pass out," you whispered with a cheeky smile.

His shoulders shook from a silent laugh and his arms moved to either side of your face, caging you in with his warm presence, and you couldn't help the blush that spread through your cheeks as the emotion on his face flickered between the self-hating Elijah to the sweet one that you were in love with.

He ran his hand down your leg, then he lifted your thigh and held it against his hip and slowly, gently eased himself inside you. His lips were inches from and you couldn't look away. His eyes had softened now, and your heart melted at the devotion in them, only meant for you.

He slid his hand to the back of your neck as you clung to his shoulder, meeting him thrust for thrust as the pace gradually quickened. Your toes curled as waves of pleasure washed over you, but you held on this time, waiting for his permission, wanting to find release together.

His lips caressed your neck, his breathing ragged, and his movements became more erratic as his own control began to slip. The low, animalistic sounds rumbling in his chest nearly set you off, but somehow you managed to hang on.

Your mind is a fog, filled with everything Elijah; his smell, his warmth, the feeling of his skin against yours, the sound of his heavy breath, his low voice in your ear, his hips moving in a perfect tempo. It was overwhelming, dizzying, and intoxicating. You weren't sure how much longer you could hold out, especially with the way he was whispering your name like a prayer.

Your legs began to tremble again, Elijah knew you were close, and you were being so good for him. He could see the effort your restraint required in the furrow of your brow and the desperation in your eyes, he saw it in the twitching of your fingers and he felt the small spams from the place the two of you are joined.

"You've been such a good girl, come for me sweetheart," he cooed, nipping at your ear.

You closed your eyes and threw your head back. It felt like the earth beneath you cracked open and molten pleasure coursed through your veins, pouring into every cell and nerve, bathing you in absolute bliss.

Elijah kept rocking, dragging out your orgasm and making his own release finally explode throughout every part of him. As the both of you shook from pleasure, he didn't stop kissing you, kissing your cheeks, neck, and nose as the both of you tried to calm down. You clung to his biceps, relishing his touch, trying to calm down your raging heartbeat.

He released you and flipped onto his back, tugging you along, and making sure that you stayed close. You cuddled into his side, giving his chest small, gentle kisses.

He took your wrist, seeing the faint redness where the rope had burned your skin and gave it another tender kiss.

"Don't tell Klaus about the rope, he would not be very pleased to know you and Davina are making weapons behind his back, love."

You snorted and placed a soft kiss on his cheek, "how did you know it was Davina?"

He chuckled and rested his chin on the top of your head.

"Call it an educated guess," he teased and his hand playfully smacked your butt.

You both gave out a little chuckle before falling back into a comfortable silence. Your body had officially given out on you and exhaustion had taken over your form.

Elijah lifted you up out of bed and brought you to the shower, making sure that you were clean of any sticky sweat or traces of what had gone down moments ago. He wrapped his strong arms around you once you were dressed and both cleaned, bringing the covers around both of your bodies before kissing your forehead, and drifting off to sleep, holding you possessively against him.

This night didn't go as you planned, but you did not regret a thing.

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

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Also! If you wish to be removed from the tag list just send me a dm, you won't hurt my feelings (it's okay if you got sick of me ~lol) I don't wish to hold you hostage ♡

I've gotten a few dm's about my tags not working (yay) so let me know if its still a problem, I just re-tagged all of you so hopefully that solved it ♡

(It may be the hearts causing the issue but I don't want that to be true, so I am in denial)

[nubisaureus]

asking you to sit on their face

character(s): Childe, Zhongli

pairing(s): fem!reader x Childe, Zhongli (separately)

contents: face sitting, praise, domestic scenery, c0ck r1ding, hint of breeding

a/n: hey y'all! sorry for the long absence but I got sick, and a bunch of personal stuff came up plus a bit of writer's block so yk :')

anyways, I am absolutely feral about pussy drunk characters so please enjoy this absolute filthy post (ik you love this stuff ;) it'll be out litte secret)

ps: it's my first time writing for Childe so let me know how it was! <3

pps: not proofread T^T

•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈•

Childe

It had started with you using your Cryo Vision to freeze him.

You two were sparring: it was no secret that he was your rival, as well as your lover. Rivals in the streets, lovers in the sheets.

He had tried to sweep you off your feet using his Hydro Vision, but what he didn't know is that you had a Hydro delusion: an extreme measure really, but needless to say it was devastating when combined with your Cryo vision.

So you had used your Hydro powers to direct his flood towards him, soaking him from head to toe. And then, with a flick of your finger, you had frozen him from the waist down, freezing his hands to the floor, effectively rendering him powerless at your mercy, laid down in front of you.

«So, looks like I win.» you bragged, looking at him top - down.

He scoffed.

«I reckon it comrade, you won. A Hydro delusion is not something I had expected. Although I don't mind this position at all.» you gave him a smug look, crouching next to him and caressing his face.

«What can I say, I'm full of surprises.»

«Oh, I can see that.» you looked at him, bound in front of you, helpless, at your mercy...

You were horny, very horny. His sexy knowing smile didn't help either. He knew exactly what you were thinking.

«Something wrong, comrade?» he asked, as you got closer to him.

You didn't answer. You simply kept looking at him, a million scenes playing in your mind, distracting you from the present.

As another fantasy started playing in your head, a loud bang startled you: Childe had managed to break free of his hand bonds, although he remained frozen from the waist down.

He grabbed you, making you topple over him, and started voraciously kissing you.

You moaned on his face, and flinched at the contact with the ice, so you melted it with your powers, and could finally feel his hot skin, burning even.

The training room wasn't the best for privacy, so you whispered something in his ear, and soon enough every doorknob was frozen, making it impossible for people to enter.

«You have a wicked mind using our Visions like that, comrade.» he whispered, out of breath.

«Oh, isn't that why all of this is so hot though, comrade?» you didn't particularly like that nickname, so you mocked him.

Soon enough, the floor of the training room became a mess.

An indefinite and tangled mess of clothes ended up all over it, leaving you two with only your underwear.

With skilled hands he undid your bra, which now laid somewhere on the floor.

«Sit on my face.» he suddenly said, his pupils dilated with lust.

«Huh? But I've never done something like that.» you expressed your concern, but were soon bothered by the raging heat between your legs, quickly soaking your underwear.

«Hey, stop using your Vision on me..» you whined, but he didn't stop.

Fuck it. He wanted you to sit on his face? Then so be it.

You took off your underwear and sat on his stupid orange haired face.

You doubted he could last very long..oh.

Oh fuck.

He. was. everywhere.

His tongue was inside you, moving, and moving, and moving.

The wetter you became, the more he'd feed on it.

And the ungodly slurping noises only made things worse. He wasn't eating you out, no. He was drinking you. As if he had an unquenchable thirst. As if he couldn't have enough.

You lifted your hips a bit, worried he didn't have enough air, but you heard him mumble.

«Don't you fucking dare lift up those hips. I'm not done yet, and you'll be here until I'm satisfied, comrade.»

At this point any and all rational thought had left you, and you just let your mind empty, lust taking you over.

«Fuck fuck fuck. Childe I swear, I'm not gonna last long if you kee-ahh..!» you came. Not once, not twice, you had lost count.

His tongue was drinking you up more and more, and you lost track of time, too ecstatic and lust drunk to even notice something as trivial.

When he was satisfied, he lifted you up, making you sit on the floor.

It didn't last long though. Soon enough you were down on all fours, doggy style.

«Baby I need you to take it for me, can you do it?» he asked, and you knew he was drunk. Pussy drunk. He just needed you to clench around him, he just needed to feel you.

You gave him a nod, and then felt his length inside of you, and the arousal mounted again. It was just a never ending marathon when you two got to it. That's why you tried to keep your meetings short, otherwise you'd end up like this, but at that point your mind was too preoccupied with him to think about anything else.

«You're so pretty baby, I love it so much when you clench around me like that..you're so warm, it just feels like you were made for my cock. Take it a little bit more baby, please, won't you? I know you can, you're so good..» he sounded delirious, out of his mind, but you didn't care. His cock just felt so good inside of you..

«So good, baby. I can't get enough of it, I'm sorry. I know you're tired but please, please please hold on just a little bit more for me, okay baby? You take me so well I just can't get enough of you baby. I swear baby I want to make you feel so good every day and every moment, if you'll just let me, I promise I'll take good care of you, baby.»

──────────────────────────────

Zhongli

It had been a long day. Zhongli was tired, sitting in his office at Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, exhaustion filling every fiber of his body.

Who would've thought that working for a 19-year-old girl would be so tiring? He almost regretted fighting every day, almost.

Truth be told, he was just being overly dramatic: he hadn't seen his girlfriend all day, and today, of all days, his body decided to make him feel extra horny. Exactly when he had to work overtime.

6000 years and he still suffered from these issues.

He chuckled to himself, almost relieved. At least he still had a semblance of mortality in him.

As he signed the last of his paperwork, he could finally go home to his girlfriend, to you.

He found you on the armchair, reading a book. And you were wearing just one of his shirts. It made him feel..a certain way.

He sneaked his way behind you, his fingers landing on your shoulders, pressing slightly, massaging them.

You sighed happily.

«Oh, you're back, love. What did I do to deserve this special treatment..?» you said, closing your book and leaning forward, giving him more space to massage you.

He made you stand up and sit on his lap, and you instantly knew what was up, his cock pressing against you.

«Oh, I see now..» he continued massaging, and you unbuttoned the shirt a bit, exposing your back to him.

«I'd give you this special treatment regardless, love.» he reached for the shirt, unbuttoning it all the way. Now it was hanging loosely on his lap, your arms still in the sleeves.

He moved your hair from your back, delicately dragging his fingers along, sending shivers down your spine.

He kissed your shoulder, and gripped your hips hard, squishing your flesh.

He then started kissing your neck, making you tilt your head all the way back, until it was resting on his shoulder.

Soon enough his hands moved, now kneading your breasts, which were exposed, since you weren't wearing your bra, just panties.

«Zhongli..» you moaned, kissing his neck, your bodies tangling in a mix of lust, sweat and love.

«Mh..?» his mouth too preoccupied with making you feel good to give you a proper answer.

«In our bedroom. I need to feel your skin, please.»

«Of course, my love. As you wish.» you turned around, now facing him.

He picked you up, carrying you to the bedroom, while you undid his tie, and helped him remove his jacket.

As you two got to the bedroom, the shirt you were wearing was on the floor, and you were completely naked, except for your panties.

You undressed him, taking your time to kiss every inch of his body.

He moaned, a sound that reverberated deep within you, going directly in your pussy, his voice was just that hot.

He kissed you, and you both remained naked, as you jumped on him, crossing your legs behind his back.

He dropped you on the bed, climbing on top of you, and inverted your positions, putting you on top of him.

«I need you to sit on my face, love.» he said, panting because of the lust. How could you deny his request, when he was looking at you like a dying man looked at his savior?

«Are you sure, Zhongli? Won't you run out of air..?» he shook his head, reassuring you.

«It's fine, love. I just need you. You've been on my mind all day, and I need you, so badly. I just need you to sit on me, love.»

You decided to grant his request, curious yourself of how it would feel. He had eaten you out many times, would this time be so different..?

As soon as your pussy made contact with his face, you immediately understood how wrong you were about it feeling the same.

His nostrils got invaded by your scent, your arousal dripping down on his face, intoxicating him.

It was just so addictive. He had been dreaming of doing that all day, his mind unable to tear itself from the thought of having his face buried deep in your pussy.

He started licking away, like his life depended on it.

His hands firmly gripped your thighs, making it impossible to move. You bent down, the pleasure overwhelming you, making your head dizzy: you gripped the bed sheets, your legs trembling under his relentless licking and sucking.

His mouth was on your clit now: he sucked away, never stopping, never ceasing to make you feel good.

«Z-zhongli..» you whined, slamming your forearm on the bed to regain some balance, as he pressed your pussy deeper on his face.

He could feel how you were trembling around him: your pussy clenched on his tongue, as if it wanted to capture him, keeping him inside of you.

He couldn't get enough, he had to have you in every way possible, so when you came all over his face, he didn't hesitate to lick you clean, as your scent enveloped him, making him lightheaded, or rather, pussy drunk.

You didn't even know who you were anymore. All you knew was Zhongli under you, making you see stars with his tongue, making you feel like you were the luckiest woman in all of Teyvat.

As he was satisfied, at least for the time being, he lifted you up, already missing your warmth on his face.

«That was..I..Z-zhongli..» you couldn't speak properly, your whole body was trembling, the orgasm still lingering.

He moved you lower on his body.

«I need you to take me, love. Will you do it for me?» he didn't have to ask twice. You lowered yourself on his massive cock, your pussy stretching around him, making space. He had a massive girth to it, making you feel every inch of his length, driving you crazy.

You sat still on him for a few seconds, wanting to savor the sensation of his cock stretching you out.

«Fuck- love you're so warm and tight around me..!» his voice was an octave higher, the lust completely taking hold of him.

«M-move love..please. I need you to move, please.» he whined, begging you to move.

You grabbed his hands, using them as leverage to rise up, only to bounce back on his cock.

You took your time though, bouncing up and down, your tits following the movement.

You could hear Zhongli moaning like his life depended on it, which compelled you to open your eyes.

You looked down at him, the sight of his face contracted in pleasure, with his cheeks all read, and his mouth open, a small line of drool (or your arousal, you weren't sure), making you feel so powerful, like a Goddess, his Goddess.

You just couldn't believe you were on top of the Geo Archon, and said Archon was feeling so good because of you.

You came at the same time. You could feel his seed dripping down your thighs, and you tried to move a bit, to clean yourself.

He prevented you from doing so, closing your legs instead, as to trap all the seed inside of you.

«I just need to feel you clenching around me a little bit more, love.»

──────────────────────────────

[moonstruckme]

This celebration is so cute ahhhh

Two Ghosts - send autumn/Halloween-specific prompts!

anyway, imagine picking out your halloween costume with the marauders

Remus is so supportive of whatever (as long as you don't make him do anything too weird), James wants to do something that matches, and Sirius is all like "this one would make your tits look great, ah babe this one would show off your lovely thighs, I've always wanted to fuck a nurse :)"

I hope I'm doing this right, this is my first time having the pleasure of participating in a celebration!

-🔮

You're good, lovely! Thanks for participating :)

join the party

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 474 words

“No,” Remus says as Sirius comes pulls up yet another picture of a group costume. “Pads, my one condition is that I get to be fully clothed. I’m not going to change my mind.” 

“But we’d look so hot as the sexy Scooby Doo gang,” Sirius whines, but when Remus’ expression doesn’t change, he switches tactics. “You can’t tell me you don’t want to see me in a collar, Moony.” 

Remus rolls his eyes, seemingly unaffected. “I could have you in a collar anytime I wanted to. Next.” 

“Ooh, I like this one!” James says, swiveling his laptop around for you all to see. “We could be smurfs!”

Sirius sighs heavily, tipping his head back against the couch cushions. “None of you sees the vision,” he laments. 

While you can’t say you’re totally on board with Sirius’ plan of walking around in essentially underwear on what’s bound to be a chilly night, you agree with him about this one. 

“I don’t love the idea of painting my face and everything blue,” you tell James gently. “Haven’t you seen the videos where it won’t come off?”

“What if we just all went as ghosts,” Remus suggests, patting James’ head consolingly when he pouts. “It’s simple, it’s easy, we all already have sheets.” 

“Ghosts,” Sirius says severely, “are not hot.” 

“You know what else isn’t going to be hot?” Remus counters. “The weather, on October thirty first.” 

“I’m sure we can find a compromise,” you say, moving further onto Sirius’ lap before he can get too amped up. You lean your head against his chest placatingly, looking at the screen of his laptop. “Merlin, these are skimpy.” 

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Sirius murmurs, kissing the crown of your head absentmindedly. He scrolls a bit further, and then you feel him perk up in excitement even before he speaks. “Okay, okay, compromise: nurses and doctor. Rem, you can be a doctor if you want to wear, like, pants or whatever—” he shakes his head as if such a desire is unbelievable “—but the rest of us can be sexy nurses. Look, sweetheart, this neckline will make your tits look great.” 

You gaze at the tiny bits of white fabric covering the model in the picture, dread settling like a weight in your gut. “It’s…a lot of skin.”

“Yup.” Sirius nods, pleased with himself. “Gotta show it off, sweet thing. And I get to show you off in the process.” 

James gets up, peering over your shoulders to see. “Merlin,” he breathes. “Alright, I’m willing to freeze my ass off if you guys are. So long as we’re doing it together, yeah?” 

“We’re gonna be so cold,” you agree.

“Aw, don’t worry sweetheart.” Sirius rubs your shoulder eagerly. “I’m sure Moony will lend you his doctor’s coat if you need it, won’t you handsome?”

[b4mpyre-k1zz3s]

The Jackass Guys Taking Care of You while you’re Sick HCs!

Johnny Knoxville X Fem!Reader, Chris Pontius X Fem!Reader, Steve-O X Fem!Reader, Bam Margera X Fem!Reader, Ryan Dunn X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of illness, pet names (ie. darlin’), alcohol

An: While writing this, I was actually bed bound for two days to to a nasty respiratory illness, so I think you could guess where my inspiration came from XD Ironically enough, in between writing this and coming out I got sick again. Boy, what an immune system I have! I get sick frequently and one thing I can always count on making me feel better is writing about the guys :)

You had no appetite, you could barely leave your bed, and you had a temperature of 101.9. Yep, with how sick you were, there was no way you’d be able to go to work.

So you called your boyfriend to help take care of you

Johnny

“Oh, darlin’…”

You were in sore shape, and like the amazing boyfriend he was, Johnny went to helping you feel better right away!

Really, he missed his calling as a doctor or nurse with how sweet and considerate he is to you

Helping you out of bed if you’re weak on your feet and to the shower, assuring you how much better you’ll feel after you get a lil’ steam in your system <3

And after you get out, he’d sit behind you and gently comb/brush our hair for you, no matter how many times you mumbled to him that yes, you were sick, but you could take care of your basic needs yourself

But you secretly enjoyed being babied by him

If you couldn’t stomach much, he’d bring you some warm tea and fruit with a kiss on the forehead before he went to set up the humidifier

When Robitussin and NyQuill weren’t making a dent in your fever, Johnny got a little creative,

“If it doesn’t make you better, you’ll forget you were sick in the first place!” He explained, handing you the mug of hot water, lemon, and a splash of bourbon

A hot toddy, he told you it was called, something his mama used to give him when he was sick at home

And that thing worked.

Your eyes were falling close as you murmured, half asleep already,

“Thank you, Dr. Knoxville…”

Bam

“You look like shit.”

Lack of bedside manner aside, he is probably the last person you want taking care of you while you’re sick.

“Well thanks, Bam- I feel like shit.”

Feeling a little bad for you he asked if you needed anything

So you asked for something to eat- maybe soup and warm tea?

But all you received was an uncrustqble (which you bought because bam doesn’t like the crusts on his sandwiches) and a bottle of water lobbed onto your bed from the doorway.

“D’you think you could grab me some tissues too?”

With a groan, Bam disappeared into the bathroom before you heard all this thudding and an exasperated, “Fuck!”

Before he emerged with a roll of toilet paper.

Sure, maybe he wasn’t Florence Nightingale, but he did what you asked and you honestly didn’t even expect this much from him

He mumbled, disticnt affectionate tone in his voice as a smile crept onto his face as he walked by your bedside to ruffle your hair a little,

“You’re a real pain in the ass, Y/N.”

Chris

“Time for your sponge bath!”

Chris is a firm believer in the fact that laughter is the best medicine

So that’s why he walked into your room wearing one of those sexy nurse outfits.

And while you appreciated the sentiment, you didn’t really need the sponge bath

You also didn’t need the rectal thermometer he proudly offered to you,

“Time to take your temperature! Roll over!” He chuckled that sweet stoner laugh of his, “Kidding, kidding- it’s one’a the normal ones.”

Or when Chris pretended to “accidentally” drop said thermometer next to your bed and bend over to pick it up with his ass in full veiw.

Soon, you began to recognize the click clack of cherry red high heels as the sounds of Nurse Pontius,

And you’d come to anticipate his spectacular bedside manner ;)

In fact, this whole ordeal just left you more endeared to him

Yes, even when he asked to warm your boobies up because in his words, they looked really cold.

“You know, your probably the best nurse I’ve ever had.”

Steve-O

“What’s goin’ on?”

He stumbled into your room, having kind of forgotten why you called him,

Steve isn’t so much of a caregiver as he is a heating pad

But damn it if he isn’t a good heating pad

He’d just walk into the room and lay down next to you, all warm and cozy- a heaven for your shivering, sick body

Despite how nice it felt to cling to him, he isn’t much help besides that given the fact he fell asleep five minutes ago (not that you noticed)

“Hey, do you think you could grab me some-“ Yep. Out cold

So you had to tear yourself from the comfort of your bed to make yourself soup

And when you return, all shivering as you slip back under the covers,

Of course that’s when he wakes up.

You had already started eating when Steve took the bowl from where it was resting on your lap to steal a few bites himself

When you pointed out that he just used the same spoon you did (and would probably get sick too), he just shrugged,

“So what? I don’t care.”

Ryan

“Are you dead yet?”

While there was an unmistakeable tone of sarcasm in Ryan’s voice, he really was concerned

Out of all the guys, he would be the one to get worried sick (no pun intended) about his ill girlfriend :(

But he played it off well, saying that he didn’t have anything to do that weekend despite canceling plans with Bam to look over you

So he might as well sit by your bedside to make sure you’re okay!

Or that he just conveniently rented all of your favorite movies because he wanted to watch them, but you’re free to join him if you wanna watch

And, despite your warnings that you’ll get him sick, he’d have no problem with laying down next to you if you can’t sleep

Because that’s what the two of you usually do! No reason to break routine because of a stupid cold.

“C’mon! With you shiverin’ like that, how could I not? It’s like seein’ a kitten out in the rain…”

[issuesdolly]

Jonathan Davis Protects You From Your Creepy Ex

Warning: Smut, foreplay, fingering, male/female sex, unprotected sex, p in v, finishing inside, edging. Mildly violent diaglogue (NOT IN A SEXUAL CONTEXT but in the dramatic context of the story where JD is confronting the ex-boyfriend).

#jonathandavis  #jonathan davis #korn #jon davis #fanfic #fanfiction #smut #fem reader #x reader #edging #edginganddenial #jondavis #romantic

Summary: You are Jonathan’s girlfriend. Your relationship has been going well for a long time. So far, it’s been you who has had to deal with jealousy/insecurity as so many people adore Jonathan. You & he trust each other, but for once, the shoe is on the other foot when your ex boyfriend reappears, trying to reconnect with you. Jonathan feels insecure and protective of you. You do your best to reassure Jonathan you didn’t intend to rekindle anything with your ex. At the same time, Jonathan spots your ex’s manipulative/stalkerish behavior before you do. Jon is not controlling of you, so he tries to stay out of it. When you and Jon realize your ex is aggressively creeping on you, you try to cut ties. Your ex won’t take a hint, so Jonathan has to step in.  

Preface: If you like pure NAUGHTY fanfics that get “straight to the point” (romance + sex with JD) feel free to check my others. I felt like there’s only so much I can do THOSE…I wanted to write something that includes more emotional/personal themes, although there’s DEFINITELY sex in this one haha. This fic was inspired by a moment in the Korn MTV Diary where JD talked about getting jealous/protective when his fiance got hit on/disrespected by a guy. My stories portray JD as super confident/sexy but in real life, he’s just a dude who can get insecure/protective of his girl as well. Wanted to explore that. This fanfic is also based on a true story from my life. Hope you enjoy it. 

Story: 

You and Jonathan are finishing dinner at one of your favorite out of the way Italian restaurants. He had reserved a private booth in the balcony wing, away from people so your dinner wasn’t disturbed. However, you knew when you went downstairs, some people were bound to spot Jonathan. Sure enough, as the two of you held hands and walked downstairs, some people spotted him out. You decided to take this moment to head to the bathroom and let him deal with the swarm.  

“I’ll be right back, sweetie, bathroom,” you said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. 

“Ok, sorry about this,” Jon whispered to you, returning your kiss with a quick one on your lips. 

On your way back from the bathroom, you decided to hang back by the barstools instead of awkwardly standing next to him. You’d basically just be in the way as people tried to get their picture with him or have him sign something. Suddenly you felt a tap on the shoulder. Turning around, you couldn’t believe your eyes. It was your ex-boyfriend, Zane. 

“Zane? Is that you?” you said in shock.

“HI!!” Zane said, as his eyes lit up. 

He took a step towards you like he wanted a hug, but you took a step back. The two of you stood awkwardly smiling for a moment. 

“Wow, didn’t expect to see you here,” you blurted out. 

“Yeah! Didn’t expect to see you either! How are you?” Zane asked. 

“I’ve been good. You… you look so different!,” you admitted. During your relationship, Zane drank constantly and always looked run down. Currently, he looks far healthier. 

“Right? Well, I’ve been sober for the last year,” Zane boasted. 

“Oh man, I’m so happy to hear that. Seriously. Proud of you,” you said. 

“Thank you. I’m doing a LOT better,” Zane continued. “So you’re…. Still with Jonathan huh?” 

“You know about all that?” you asked, surprised. 

“Yeah, I mean…. I don’t follow his music. NOT my thing. But, your name and face pops up online with him enough that I- uh…. Took notice. Wow. Being with a celebrity. That must be a huge adjustment for you,” Zane said. 

“Yeah! It’s a lot. But he’s well worth it,” you state proudly.

You looked over at Jonathan as he stood awkwardly, trying to wrap up the schmoozing. Jonathan stole a glance at you. His big smile faded as he saw this guy standing rather close to you. Your smile faded also. It was like you could read his mind: “who the fuck is that standing with you?” 

Zane looked over at Jon with a shitty smirk on his face, before putting a hand on your shoulder. You turned back at Zane, surprised he just touched you. 

“Well! Good for you. I’m sure whenever you manage to get him to yourself, you guys have a nice time,” Zane said in a chastising manner. 

“Jon makes plenty of time for the two of us,” you retorted, while stepping away from Zane’s grasp. 

“You know, I’d love to catch up with you more sometime,” Zane said, boldly. 

Out of nowhere, you felt Jonathan standing next to you. Jon’s eyes bore into Zane as he stood there, wordlessly. 

“Jon! This is Zane, my uh…..” you said, trying to spit out the words “ex-boyfriend.” 

“Zane… yeah, I remember you mentioned a Zane….hello Zane…..” Jon said in a low, monotone voice. 

“Hey dude, nice to meet you,” Zane said, disingenuously. 

Jonathan just wordlessly nodded his head. Neither Jon, nor Zane outstretched a hand for a civil handshake. 

Jonathan hates fake “nice to meet you” pleasantries and fakeness in general. Instead, Jon stood still, head slightly tilted, with a dead face. He was staring HARD at Zane. Looking at your ex, Jonathan immediately recalled everything you had told him about Zane. Your 2-year relationship had been full of Zane manipulating and gaslighting you. When you and Jon discussed past relationships, it was definitely a topic that had made you break down crying. Jonathan had comforted you as you recalled the bad memories and reassured you he would NEVER treat you how Zane had. 

Jonathan was doing his BEST to be civil. However, it was hard for him to hold back anger, standing in front of the man who hurt you. You put your hand into Jonathan’s and Jon turned to face you. He could feel your palms were cold and sweaty. This situation was awkward for everyone involved. 

“Listen, we need to get going, but it was nice seeing you, Zane,” you said. 

“Yeah you too,” Zane said. 

You and Jonathan walked out of the restaurant. Jonathan, on his way out, stole a glance back at Zane. Zane gave Jon another shitty smirk and sly hand-wave goodbye. Jon’s eyes flared and he let out a huff/sniff, turning back around and heading out the door with you. 

The car ride back with Jonathan was damned awkward. You decided to break the silence by just confronting the situation head on: 

“Well that was really awkward. I’m sorry about that, Jon, I really didn’t expect to run into him” you said. 

“Yeah, I gotta say I always pictured him as a massive douche. He definitely lived up to my mental image,” Jon said quietly. 

“He’s sober now at least, so… hopefully he’s getting his life on track,” you said, trying to diffuse the conversation. 

Jonathan was silent, breathing angrily. Jon was baffled that after everything Zane had done to you, you cared about his well-being. He felt that you were WAY too forgiving. 

Eventually Jon broke the silence. “Yeah well, I get it, I was a mess before I got sober. But…. people can only change so much,” Jon said, reflecting. 

The two of you got home and went inside. You went into the kitchen. You had skipped dessert at the restaurant and felt like having some yogurt or something. You were taking your time browsing the fridge when Jonathan slowly walked up behind you. He gently wrapped his hands around your waist and cradled your stomach through your dress. You were kind of taken aback, since he had been huffy and distant on the ride home. He gave you a gentle kiss on the cheek and held you close. 

You gladly accepted his embrace. “Whatcha looking for?” Jon said as he kissed your cheek and neck. “Ummmm… just… a little dessert…” you said slowly, getting lost in the sexy sensation of his tender kisses. He wrapped you closer in his arms and started giving you a slow, open mouth kiss on the neck. You melted in his arms. He always knew he could seduce you easily if he started nibbling and licking your ears and neck. He left slow kisses on your neck and moved them down your shoulder, pulling the hem of your dress down slightly so he could kiss and lick more of your shoulder. 

“DAMN!” you blurted out, genuinely surprised that Jonathan had suddenly launched into all this. Jon pulled you into him more and pressed his front against your backside, giving you a tight embrace and grinding into you. You lost your balance slightly, getting immediately turned on. 

“What’s all THIS?” you asked, with genuine curiosity. Jon didn’t usually randomly attack you with kisses/seduction like this. 

“Mmmm, I don’t know, you just look beautiful. I had to come get you,” Jon said in a low, sexy voice. 

“My god… well… I guess dessert can wait,” you said while giggling. 

“I’ve got some dessert for you,” Jon said in a dirty voice, before reaching up your dress and sliding his hands under it until he reached your pussy. He took two fingers and started slowly, tenderly, rubbing your clit through your panties. You were going insane. You moaned and let him continue at this for several minutes while he slowly rocked you in his arms.

You slowly turned to face him. His eyes looked absolutely NEEDY and overwhelmed with lust. You leaned in for a big kiss and he immediately returned it, hungrily. He pushed you forward, slipping his tongue into your mouth. The two of you lost your balance against the fridge door, which was still standing wide open. You felt yourself start to fall against the fridge shelves. 

“Ahhh!! Shit!” you giggled, as Jonathan gripped you and stopped you from falling backwards.

Jonathan started laughing also, realizing how klutzy this moment was. 

“Let’s take this somewhere else,” Jon said with a smirk, pulling you away from the fridge. You shut the door and speed-walked to the bedroom together as he touched you all over along the way. 

When you reached the room, Jon quickly faced you, kissing you deeply and hungrily. He picked you up by the thighs and off the ground. You wrapped your legs around his torso and moaned into his mouth. He carried you to the bed and gently placed you down, kissing down your body and wasting no time reaching up under your dress and sliding your panties off. You watched him in awe, confused by his sudden mood shift. He crushed your panties in his hand and gave you the dirtiest smirk, taking a moment to push them against his face and smell them. You loved how freaky he was and you both giggled. He tossed the panties away and started planting kisses on your legs, working his way up your thighs. Jon slowly crawled on top of you. You held his hair and lay underneath him, wondering why he had suddenly decided to make love to you like this. 

The truth was, the incident at the restaurant had left him feeling insecure. Maybe a bit possessive. Seeing your ex touch you and try to reconnect left him feeling desperate to do SOMETHING to pamper and satisfy you. To remind you how much he still wants you and perhaps, to STOP you from even THINKING about your ex. 

Jon locked eyes with you as he slowly took his lips off your mouth.

 “Mmmm..tell me what you want, baby,” he said in a quiet, sexy voice. 

You giggled, “Ha! Uh- I mean, YOU started this. I don’t know!!” you said. 

“Hmmmm… well let’s start here,” Jon said in a low, sweet voice. He pushed a hand between your legs and gently parted them, reaching under your dress and gently rubbing/fingering you. You shut your eyes and moaned as he massaged and teased inside your pussy while giving you a long, deep, open mouth kiss. He moved his kisses to your neck and ears while fingering you, leaving you WEAK. You just lay there LOVING it. Jon kept this up for a good long time until you felt like you were already getting close to coming. Jon slowly removed his fingers from you. He locked eyes with you, smiling, before licking his fingers clean. Your eyes lit up and you gave him a huge smile and giggle as you watched him.  

Jon knelt next to your face and whispered “you always taste so fucking food,” right into your ear. You moaned and started grabbing his waist, parting your legs more for him. You’d had MORE than enough foreplay and you REALLY needed him to fuck you now. He quickly sat up, unbuckling his pants and taking them off along with his boxers and whipping his T-shirt off while you removed your dress. He quickly climbed back on top of you and immediately pushed into you as the two of you moaned. You noticed he was being unusually slow and tender with his movement tonight. Slow, sensual, delicious, pumps into you. This was not some quick, fun, aggressive fuck. He was REALLY determined to make love to you for a long time tonight. It felt amazing, and although you still wondered WHY, your mind was clouding over with pleasure. 

You moaned louder and louder as he took his time, slowly pushing deep into you and making you feel as good as possible. He kept kissing you all over while gradually letting his pumps pick up speed. Jon was driving you CRAZY as he continued licking and love biting your neck and ears. Your pussy was quivering and you knew you were going to come extremely hard, and SOON. Jonathan pumped harder and faster in response to you as your moans increased. You were getting so close. He let out a groan of pleasure watching you. Out of nowhere, he spoke. 

“Baby… mmfff… baby, look at me!” he whispered.

Your eyes had been shut with pleasure, but you opened them to look at him. His eyes stared hard into yours. You smiled at him weakly while moaning, your orgasm approaching. 

“I love you,” Jon whispered solemnly while stroking your hair and pumping into you. 

You were a bit taken aback. You knew he loved you. But him saying it so solemnly like this, DURING sex, was unusual. But you weren’t going to question it. 

“I love you too Jon!” you said with a hazy smile on your face as your orgasm approached. 

His big, expressive eyes lit up with love/lust and he kissed you hard one more time before pumping nice and hard into you. His dick pressed against just the right spot inside you. 

“Ahhhh!!!…..  Fuuuu!!!” you cried out. He felt SOOO good. You couldn’t handle it and started coming VERY hard. You let out a scream/moan and started shaking, holding his neck and gripping his hair as he ground his dick into you. He moaned against your neck and kept licking and kissing you while you came. This was DEFINITELY the best orgasm you had with him in recent times. You kept coming, shaking in his arms as he left his dick deep inside you, slowly moving it in and out, letting you ride your climax hard. As you slowly came down and caught your breath, he looked right into your eyes again, still inside you.

“You’re so fucking beautiful baby,” Jon complimented as he stroked your hair. “I love watching you cum….so pretty” he whispered. 

Again, you were taken aback. Him telling you all this DURING sex was a bit unusual. But again, you didn’t question it. 

“You- fu…..You’re….the sexiest fuckin man alive,” you complimented in return while giggling. “Holy shit, I came so hard,” you said, still trying to catch your breath. 

“Mmmmff… GOOD,” Jon said with a beaming smile. “My turn,” he said, losing his composure and moaning against you. You yelped and moaned loudly as Jon picked up speed again. He began fucking you with incredible intensity. Again, you were stunned. It was like he was REALLY hungry for you tonight. He made loud, honest, unrestrained noises. You just watched him in awe before shutting your eyes again. His orgasm hit him FAST and he moaned LOUDLY. You felt his cum spurt inside you with a good deal of force as he whimpered and gasped. You felt the warm gush of it start to slowly leak out of you as he kept coming. 

As he finally finished, he gently leaned into you and kept kissing you AGAIN. He was REALLY into kissing you tonight. After some slow, tender post-climax kissing, he finally climbed off of you and flopped next to you in bed…. totally spent. As you both caught your breath, he turned towards you, pulling your naked body tightly against him. You felt weak and exhausted in his arms. This had definitely been a “love making” session. Not some kind of playful fuck. 

Jon pushed your damp hair out of your face and stroked your forehead before saying AGAIN, “I LOVE you,” in a solemn whisper. 

“I love you too,” you whispered, earnestly. “So much,” you continued, while nuzzling his face. The two of you were so tired, you gradually fell asleep in that position, listening to one another breathe. 

The following day you woke up VERY groggy. You opened your eyes and saw Jon in a deep sleep next to you in bed. Plenty of light was shining into the room and you guessed the two of you had slept in until at least the afternoon. You slowly rolled over and grabbed your phone, sitting up in bed. Sure enough, it was 3pm. You two always stayed up most of the night and slept in (kindred vampires) but he definitely kept you up even longer last night. Groaning and wiping your eyes, you crawled out of bed and threw on a nightgown (you were still naked). You crawled back into bed to relax and started checking stuff on your phone.  Pushing your matted hair out of your face, you remembered last night. You definitely needed a shower. 

Though you try to not obsess over social media, it always ends up being the first thing you check. You opened Instagram, seeing the sweet likes/comments on a recent picture of you and Jonathan that you had shared. It wasn’t an ego thing necessarily but you loved seeing well-wishes from people. Next, you opened Facebook. The first thing you noticed was a friend request….. From Zane. You were quite shocked. You looked over at Jonathan, who was still sleeping naked. His upper body was exposed and the blankets covered his lower half.  He looked sexy, adorable and peaceful in his deep sleep. You remembered just how amazing last night was. 

Then, you looked back at your phone. So much time had passed since you had been with Zane. His profile pic had a woman standing next to him in a cute, couple’s pose. You figured he was in a relationship. Assuming both you and he had moved on and there would be no weirdness, curiosity killed the cat. You hit ‘accept’ and looked at his page. He had new photos of him from the gym, and several with this woman. Scrolling his feed, there were updates about his sobriety and kudos from friends/family. Pictures of him traveling and hiking with friends. It did make you happy to see his life had improved. Maybe you WERE too forgiving, but you didn’t like to hang on to hate/grudges. 

Jonathan was pretty damn allergic to social media for a variety of reasons. Mainly, he doesn’t stand for internet bullying or the narcissistic side of social media. He’s also very aware of internet stalking. Jon grudgingly holds a few promotional social media accounts, mostly run by his management team. As you were scrolling through Zane’s pictures, Jonathan stirred beside you. He opened his eyes and looked at you. The two of you exchanged sleepy smiles. You were about to close your phone, but Jonathan was surprisingly energetic and quick to sit up in bed. He leaned in and gave you a big kiss on the mouth, leaving you no time to get rid of what was on your phone screen. His kiss was surprisingly passionate and you got lost in it. As Jonathan let you out of the kiss he nuzzled against your shoulder, sleepily moving his gaze towards your phone. 

“Oh shit,” was the only thought running through your head. If you rushed to shut off your phone screen or change the page, this would look even worse. Cringing, you allowed Jon to notice what was on your screen. Jonathan’s sleepy gaze slowly turned to realization, noticing who/what you were looking at. Before Jon could say anything, you confessed “I opened Facebook and Zane sent a friend request.” Jonathan slowly took his face off your shoulder, exhaling and tightening up… his demeanor changed from elated to pissed. He scooted away from you in bed and folded his arms, pulling up the blankets to cover his body.

“And let me guess, you accepted it?” Jon asked in a quiet voice.

“I was curious, I’m sorry,” you admitted. 

“Curious how the dick who stole 2 years of your life is doing? Fair enough,” Jon continued in a quiet, cold voice. 

“A LOT of time has passed. He- he seems like he’s changed a lot. AND he’s in a new relationship too! It’s just fucking FACEBOOK. I add a lot of people. You know that,” you said, lamely trying to defend yourself. 

“I gotta tell you…. Guys don’t do this unless they want something,” Jonathan said, shaking his head. 

“Want something?” you replied. 

“Yeah, I could tell,” Jonathan continued. “I saw it right away when he stood next to you last night. He wants a shot with you again,” Jon said, staring hard into your eyes. 

“Well he’s not gonna GET one, jeez!” you replied, truthfully. 

“I’m going to be real. As a dude. Take it or leave it, mkay?” Jonathan said while facing you and putting his hands on your lap. “Guys don’t want to be ‘buddies’ with their ex. Guys don’t usually want to be ‘FRIENDS’ with women in general! If you give Zane an inch, he’s gonna take a mile and keep trying. And YOU? You’ve ALWAYS been too nice with this dickwad,” Jon said, his eyes darkening. 

“Ok! I get it! Damn…. You’ve got thirsty women chasing you all the time and I have to just accept it and trust you! I got a friend request from a dude who’s ancient history in my mind and you’re freaking out?” you said, trying to brush off Jonathan’s concerns.  

Jon shook his head. He DID try to catch himself, realizing the hypocrisy of all of this. There’d been countless uncomfortable situations where Jonathan had to brush off attention from women. He knew how much trust it must take for you to be with him and not feel jealous/insecure. Jonathan slowly exhaled, shaking his head. 

“Yeah…. I hear you. It’s fucking ridiculous, me saying this. I trust you. You trust me…. I’m sorry…” Jonathan said, trying to cool off. 

There was heavy silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a knife. Jonathan eventually broke the silence: 

“I trust you. But… I don’t trust him,” Jon said. He turned to face you in bed again and you looked back into your eyes with concern. “AND, if he’s as into you as I THINK he still is, he’s probably going to message you… And if he’s as possessive as he WAS with you, he may even web-stalk you a bit,” Jonathan said in a serious tone. 

You sighed and shook your head, climbing out of bed. You didn’t know what to think about this side of Jonathan. The hypocrisy was pretty epic. You had to share him with the world and now he had this paranoid concern about ONE person. However, you thought about what he said. You HOPED he was wrong. You took a shower. Usually Jon would join you but he was still being cold. He just threw on some pajamas, and decided to brood in bed, watched TV, ignoring you. After your shower you got some food and climbed back into bed with him, hoping to cuddle up and watch something together. However, Jon was rigid, not thrilled to have you touching him. He didn't even break his gaze from the tv, as he stared at it looking pissed. You knew why. This Zane thing was still bothering the hell out of him. You decided to just take the hint and let him cool off. 

The atmosphere at home was now tense and depressing. You and Jon rarely have times like this where one of you truly doesn’t want to be around the other. But you could FEEL that Jonathan didn’t want to be around you right now. You couldn’t even IMAGINE what thoughts were going on in his head. This situation had never come up before. It was always Jonathan proving himself loyal to you after getting tested by various situations. Now, you could tell he was insecure, pissed and maybe even jealous. You decided to drive to a cafe and clear your head. Sitting down with your drink, you opened your phone, figuring you’ll text your best friend about this situation and ask for her advice. As you were doing that, your Facebook dinged with a message notification. It was Zane. You stomach dropped. 

Zane: “I’m glad to see you accepted my request! Like I said, I’d love to catch up.” 

You: “Yeah I’m glad to see you doing so well. I’m a bit busy at the moment though. Just out at a cafe.” 

Your aim was to try to end the conversation before it began. 

Zane: “Oh nice! Which cafe?” 

Reluctantly you replied: “The Starbucks on Oswell, St… they have the coziest atmosphere.”

Zane replied: “Oh yeah I’ve been there, that’s a good one. I’m actually nearby right now. Are you going to be hanging out there for a while?” 

You had a bad feeling…. It definitely sounded like he wanted to come join you. Your aim had been to hang out and read there for a few hours since the atmosphere at home with Jon SUCKED right now. You tried to craft a white lie so Zane didn’t come join you though. 

You replied: “Yeah  for awhile but I’m hanging with my friend, I promised her we’d catch up. Now isn't a good time, sorry.” 

Zane replied:  “Ah ok, but maybe we can hang out and catch up another time.” 

Your stomach dropped even more. Jon was right. He had immediately messaged you and asked to see you. You were firmly regretting adding him. You closed your phone and picked up a book to try to clear your head. 

After a long time had passed, you heard the cafe door open. You couldn’t believe it… Zane walked in and scanned the room…. And then gave you a big smile and wave. You nervously returned his smile and wave thinking “OH shit,” while also being more than a little creeped out. He sat down without you inviting him to. 

“Hey! Where’s your friend?” Zane asked. 

“Um… she had to take off. I was just hanging out,” you replied, lying. 

“Well I’m glad I caught you. I know you said it wasn't the greatest time...but I really wanted to see you,” Zane said. 

You were really uncomfortable by now. And if things with Jon were tense before, telling him about THIS would really suck. 

“Well I’m sorry, but I was actually about to head home,” you told Zane. “Maybe… another time?” you said. 

“What’s the rush to get home? Does Jon give you a curfew or something?” Zane said in an offensive tone. You REALLY didn’t like Zane badmouthing Jon’s character or implying that you are his lapdog. You tried to keep it civil. 

“I’m just hungry. I want to get back and have dinner with him,” you replied. 

“Ah.. does he make you cook it?” Zane said, continuing his aggressive, sarcastic questions. 

You were getting REALLY irritated and uncomfortable now. You just stared at Zane in amazement. 

“Tell you what, I’ll take you out to dinner and we can catch up. If Jon whines about it, you can blame me,” Zane said in a naughty tone. 

You were taken aback and felt your chest tighten. 

“Zane, aren’t you WITH someone?” you asked, inquiring about the women on his facebook. 

“Oh THAT, nah that’s over. I just haven’t taken down the pics yet. But seriously, I’d love to take you to dinner! Maybe a night away from Jon is just what you need! Come back to NORMAL life for a bit, see where that takes us, hmm???” Zane said in a flirty, aggressive tone. 

You realized now that you had to be blunt: 

“Zane, I’ve gotta be honest. You popping up like this has caused an issue between me and Jon. I’d appreciate it if you backed off,” you admitted. 

Zane looked PISSED but he tried to play it cool. 

“Oh, my bad. I didn’t realize he was that insecure…. But… what can you expect from a man who wears skirts? Alrighty. Well… I’m around if you wanna talk and hang, ok?” 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea… sorry,” you said, pissed off and eager to get away from Zane without responding to more of his taunts. You hurried out of the cafe and got in your car. 

Your hands were shaking on the drive back. When you got home, Jonathan was on the living room couch literally just staring at the wall. You walked in, flustered and shaken. Slowly entering the living room, you were perplexed seeing Jon just sitting there, catatonic. He looked up at you with a very lost expression. 

“Jon? Are you okay?” you asked, genuinely concerned. 

“Uh…. yeah. YEAH I’m ok,” Jon said (lying). The truth was, Jon had been sitting on the couch reflecting hard on what it might feel like to lose you if you reciprocated any of Zane’s feelings or attempts to reconnect. He couldn’t get it out of his head. At the same time, Jon had been sitting there feeling guilty for being so hard on you, knowing full well it’s hypocritical given the amount of attention he gets that YOU have to put up with. 

Jonathan focused his gaze on you. He knew immediately you weren’t okay either. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “You look scared or something. Was it me? I- I .. I’m sorry for acting so cold earlier… you didn’t deserve that,” Jon continued, getting off the couch and walking up to you to give you a hug. You couldn’t get any words out. You just let Jon hug you. Holding each other tightly, you both wanted to cry… but were not ready to admit all the reasons why.

As you held each other, all you could think was “I don’t want to lose his trust!” 

As he held you all Jon could think was “I don’t want to lose her.”  

As Jon slowly let you out of the hug, he looked at your eyes and could tell something was still wrong. 

“Seriously, are you ok?” Jon asked, concerned. You decided you HAD to tell him what just happened. 

“Well…. No. Jon, you were right. I went out to a cafe just to give you some space. And Zane messaged me right away like you said he might. I made the mistake of saying I was out… and he fucking showed up where I was, even after I said I was busy,” you admitted. 

Jon’s eyes darkened and his face sank. He let out an enraged sniff and took some quick steps away from you while shaking his head and gripping his hair, nervously tugging on it. He started rapidly pacing around the room and breathing faster. 

“I TOLD HIM I DIDN’T WANT HIM TO MEET ME. I told him he was causing problems for us. He- he was REALLY persistent. It took me by surprise. I’m SO sorry,” you said, half in tears. 

Jon paced some more while tugging harder on his hair and breathing faster. He put his hands on his hips and looked at you.

“MAN, that little FUCKER doesn’t waste ANY time, did he?” Jon said. 

“I really didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” you said apologetically. “But I was VERY blunt with him now, Jon! I told him he needs to back off!” 

Jon stood still, hands on his hips, still breathing hard and looking like he wanted to kick something. He wasn’t mad at you, necessarily. At least, he was trying not to be. But he WAS feeling like this guy was getting predatory…. Jon thought carefully before speaking again. 

“HOW did he just SHOW UP where you were? Tell me HONESTLY” Jon asked, with a very angry expression. 

“I made the mistake of saying which cafe it was in a text, after he kinda pried about where I was,” you told him, truthfully. 

“AFTER you said you were busy and didn’t want to meet him? And he STILL tracked down the address and showed up to the cafe?” Jon demanded, with his eyes BORING into yours. 

“YES,” you told Jon truthfully. 

Jon looked furious and ready to cry at the same time. “Is that REALLY how it went down??? Hmm?? He just TRACKED you down, you didn’t ask to see him??? TRUTH!” Jon demanded. 

“YES JON!!!! Read the fucking texts if you want!” you cried, pushing your phone forward towards him and stepping across the room next to him. 

Jon slumped his head forward and just stared at the ground, wincing his eyes and shaking his head at his own behavior. There was awkward silence as you left your phone outstretched waiting for him to look.  He looked back up at you, with an expression on his face like he was ready to cry. 

“I’m not gonna do that to you. I’m not gonna go through your fucking phone. I believe you, baby. I trust you,” Jon said, truthfully. You threw your phone onto the couch and rushed towards him, wrapping your arms around him in a big hug. Jon was rigid at first, not hugging you back, but within a few seconds, broke down crying and returned your hug. The two of you just held each other for a few minutes. 

You slowly let go of him. You looked at his eyes and he was trying to clear his throat and stop snuffling. You touched his face. “PLEASE. You have nothing to worry about. I hate him right now more than EVER. He was SO rude today! I’m NEVER going back to him, OK?” you said. Jon slowly nodded. He touched your face and stroked your hair. He looked at you lovingly and began feeling more protective than anything else. He realized whatever interaction you had with Zane had left you shaken up.  

Jon slowly exhaled and composed himself before speaking again: 

“I’m not gonna fucking tell you what to do about him. But…If he was aggressive enough to track you down at the cafe, I think you better take him off Facebook. He’s DEFINITELY going to keep messaging you and trying shit. And all that location tagging bullshit on those apps gives him a lot of chances to figure out where you are. Baby, he’s pushing HARD,” Jon warned. 

You sighed. The thought that Zane might actually be STALKING you seemed over the top. You hoped Jon was just being paranoid. You also had hoped Zane took the hint loud and clear at the cafe. You weren’t sure what to say. 

“I was really clear with him, Jon. I don’t think he’ll bother me again. If he does I’ll block him, ok?”

Jon didn’t like that answer, but he respected you and accepted it. “Ok. But be careful. I love you. I’m sorry … really fucking sorry for how I’ve been acting, baby,” he said, holding you again. 

–

The following night you and Jon went out to a restaurant/music hall. You were trying to get back on track and enjoy yourselves. The evening was going really well and after your meal you slow danced with him to some live music. The two of you held each other tight, and as you danced, Jon just stared at your eyes before giving you a big kiss. He nuzzled his face against your ear and said, “I’m a very lucky man,” over the music. Then, he held you tighter and you rested your head on his shoulder as the two of you continued dancing in a tight embrace. 

Later that evening, you ran into one of your friends at the music hall. The two of you were excited to see each other and decided it was a great photo-opp with the beautiful backdrop. You asked Jon to take a picture of the two of you and he gladly did. You posted it to your Facebook, tagging her. Again, Jon really disliked social media but he was aware you wanted to share the fun moment on your page. Facebook prompted you to tag the venue location and you hit ‘accept,’ without thinking too closely. 

The three of you spent a long time talking together at a bistro outside the venue, ordering some dessert. Eventually, Jon stepped away to go to the bathroom, and the three of you were preparing to part company. Your friend called it a night and gave you a hug goodbye. As you sat alone, waiting for Jon to come back, you felt a hand caress your shoulder and you looked up, smiling, expecting it to be Jon. 

It was Zane. You were in utter shock. “ZANE? What are you doing here?” 

“Surprise!” Zane said, as if you would be thrilled. You had no words. 

Without being invited, he sat down next to you. You scooted away from him. Before you could ask him what the hell he was doing there he said, “man this place is awesome huh? So, you out with friends or?” 

“I’m here with Jon,” you said, with an angry scowl. 

“Oh! I thought maybe you were having a girls night or something. So where is Mr. Universe? Left you all alone again?” Zane said in his smug tone. 

“He’s coming right back,” you said. “And Zane…. I really… don’t think we should hang out. At all. I really… I really think you should go,” you admitted with as much courage as you could put into your voice. 

“Hmmm.. is that what YOU want? You want me to go? Or is that what he wants?” Zane asked. 

“That’s what I want. ME. I want you to go,” you said, slowly standing up and backing away from him. You were feeling genuinely irked at this point. How did he find you? Why was he being so aggressive?

Jon was walking out to the bistros and saw Zane next to you. He froze and watched as Zane started to stand up and take steps towards you. He watched you taking steps away from him with a nervous expression on your face. Your body language was quite clear. You were frightened. 

“Well, I’ll go. But only if that’s what YOU want. But I gotta tell you, I don’t think that’s what you REALLY want,” Zane continued in an ominous tone as he stepped next to you and tried to stroke his hand across your face and play with your hair.  

Jonathan took slow steps towards the bistro, doing his best to restrain himself as he watched the whole thing going down. You pushed Zane���s hand away from your face, saying “what are you DOING?” as you felt genuine disgust. 

Jonathan slowly stepped next to you, pushing his arm between you and Zane and gently pushing you behind his body. You DID feel intimidated by Zane and you fully accepted/appreciated Jon stepping between the two of you. You reached out and held Jonathan. Jonathan put his arm around you, taking slow backwards steps with his arm firmly around you while maintaining a wordless death stare at Zane. 

“HEY man, how ya doing?” Zane said to Jon in a sarcastic tone. 

“Me? I’m fucking SWELL, Zane. What brings you here tonight?” Jon said in a low, ominous voice. 

“Ah… just looked like an awesome venue. It’s wild, I just keep running into her,” Zane said, pointing to you. “It’s like fate or something,” Zane said in an unhinged, condescending tone. 

“YEAH MAN! Fucken serendipity, innit?” Jon said, boring his eyes into Zane’s. “Wouldn’t have anything to do with a picture of her here with a location tagged or nothing!” Jon said, calling Zane’s bluff. 

“PFT, damn, man, are you always this paranoid or is it like a bad cocktail of your meds?” Zane retorted. 

You were freaking out. You did NOT want this fight to happen. But… you had to admit, watching Jon put a stop to this was pretty damn satisfying. Zane had MORE than creeped you out at this point and you really REALLY wanted him to leave you alone for good. You tried to step in: 

“Please, Jon, let’s just go,” you said, holding Jon and trying to make him take a step back from Zane. Then you turned to Zane: 

“Zane, please, I think it’s for the best if we REALLY go our separate ways,” you continued, sternly. 

“Wow, he’s got you well trained!” Zane continued. Jon forced you to let go of him and took several steps forward towards Zane. He was THIS close to beating Zane’s ass. 

Jon stared Zane down and spoke calmly one more time. 

“SHE is free to do what the FUCK she wants. I don’t make her do ANYTHING. But I’ve got some free advice for YOU. YOU aren’t free to STALK her and not take NO for an answer. If you think you’re gonna keep that up, you’ve got another thing coming!” Jon growled. 

Zane chuckled:

“DUDE, you scare me about as much as a field of petunias. You don’t even WANNA know what I think of you,” Zane said. 

Jon’s eyes turned black. He was THIS close to losing his shit. 

“Think what the fuck you want about me. I’ve cut open bodies in the morgue for a living. I know EXACTLY where to make to right incisions depending on which of your FUCKIN organs I feel like removing first,” Jon growled before giving Zane a single, HARD shove backwards. Jon’s statement DID catch Zane off guard for a moment. Zane stumbled back before catching his balance and taking steps forward to shove Jonathan in return. 

“STOP!” you screamed. The scream caught the attention of a bouncer, who apparently had already had his eye on the situation. As the bouncer walked up, ready to break up whatever was going on, you gripped Jon’s hand and pulled him away as hard as you could.

“JON!! Please, let’s go now,” you begged. Jon did his best to restrain himself and turn on his heel, following you and wrapping an arm around you. His eyes were still black with rage. The bouncer stood next to Zane as Zane tried to throw one final insult: 

“Yeah that’s right, GO HOME. You get cranky past your bedtime, get some rest man!” Zane shouted. 

Jon pulled away from you one last time. “YEAH I’ll do that man, SWEET fuckin dreams of that first Y shaped incision before pulling open your FUCKING CHEST CAVITY!” Jon screamed in the blood-curdling voice. He put his arms back around you and held you as you speed-walked away and into the car. 

The ride back was silent, except for the two of you both breathing really hard. You realized you HAD been stalked, and you grabbed your phone out of your purse, opening facebook and blocking Zane. Halfway through the drive, you looked at Jon. He was driving very carefully but his eyes looked absolutely FILLED with fury. You couldn’t take it anymore and started sobbing. Jon looked at you while trying to keep driving. He didn’t know what to do. “Baby? BABY! I’m— I’m sorry,  I … don’t fuckin know what to say … I….. SHIT…. “ Jon said, half in rage and half in tears. 

At the first opportunity, Jon pulled over in a parking lot. He turned the car off and unbuckled his seatbelt to reach across the car and hold you. You held him and cried, holding him tightly. You sobbed onto his shoulder. “I didn’t mean to be an asshole! I didn’t mean to embarrass you! It’s just, when I walked out and saw him, you looked scared, like you were trying to back away from him and he was pushing you into a corner! I LOST MY SHIT!” Jon said, apologetically. 

You let go of Jon and looked at his face in the dim light of the parking lot. 

“He WAS, Jon! He was creeping the hell out of me! I had told him to go away already and he wasn’t taking my word for it! I- I’m REALLY GLAD you did what you did! I’m glad you were there!” you admitted while crying. Jon shook and cried some more while holding you… however, he was still shaking/crying more with rage….. thinking about anyone treating you like that. 

“If he doesn’t fuck off … I swear to god.. I SWEAR TO GOD,” Jon said with his teeth gritted, while holding you. 

“I blocked him! He better fuck off. I’ll…. I’ll get a fucking restraining order if I had to Jon! I swear, I HATE THIS, this is a nightmare!” you said, holding him. The two of you just held each other tightly for a few more minutes. Eventually, the two of you composed yourselves and drove home. 

You were both emotionally spent when you got back. All you could do was change for bed, climb in, and hold each other tight. You were shaking and trying to compose yourself. You felt so comforted and safe in his arms. Eventually your snuffling stopped and you fell hard asleep against Jonathan. However, Jon stayed up for ages, unable to sleep. There was way too much adrenaline pumping in him still. But he was happy to just hold you in his arms while you slept. Eventually, he fell asleep also. 

In the end, you did not ever hear from Zane again. Perhaps that confrontation at the music venue REALLY got through to him. Although, you often wondered if Jon did something you were unaware of to further “make his point,” to Zane. You decided to never inquire. 

----

Side note: I have a TikTok & Youtube where I make sexy/funny JD thirst traps/naughty joke Korn-related comedy edits if y'all are interested. I include myself in several vids, I'm openly a pervy/dorky lady haha. My accounts are not for clout/promotion. I'm just way into him and if you stumbled THIS far into sexy JD stuff you might enjoy my vids.

Link to my Tiktok:

Link to a funny/sexy JD Stich I made:

Link to my Youtube:

More stories to come. Feel free to leave story theme requests/ideas in the comments or DM me :)

[momoa-hunnam-leto-reigns-inc]

Chocolate, Champagne, and Oral Fixation, pt. 2

Continued from Part 1

Summary: It’s the morning after you and Charlie made a ridiculous bet. How long will it take before you two succumb to desire?

Pairing: Charlie Hunnam x fem reader

Word count: 4.1k

Rating: 18+

Content/warnings: Unprotected piv sex, creampie, smut, dirty talk, teasing, strong language, fem masturbation, sweat fetish, oral (fem receiving), foot fetish (sort of, blink and you’ll miss it), fingering

The next morning…

You are woken up the next morning by someone (or something) gently tapping you on the nose.

“Meow! Meow!” it goes over and over.

It’s definitely not a phone ringtone or the TV. You open your eyes, and your heart immediately jumps when you see Lady Annabelle Snowbell, Charlie’s fat, white Angora cat, sitting right in your face and booping you on the nose.

“Meow… meow…” she beckons a few more times.

You laugh and sit up in bed after her tenth or so loud meow and boop on your nose. The first thing you notice is Charlie has already gotten up. You look at the clock and see it’s after 11 AM. Damn.

“Hey there, baby…” you speak in a soft, gentle voice. “Let me guess, Annabelle… your daddy forgot to feed you this morning?”

“Meow?” she replies.

You can smell tuna on her breath, so you doubt that’s true. You playfully boop her snoot a few times before you tell her to run along and play.

Once Annabelle has left the room, you wander into the adjoining bathroom. You remove your sexy, red nightgown and red lace thong and get into the shower… alone. You know your man has already showered without you this morning. The tile floor is still wet, and you can smell his manly coconut vanilla body wash. You stand there under the steamy hot water, allowing the seductive scent to overwhelm your senses. Your close your eyes and keep breathing in that rich aroma, and soon find yourself becoming unbelievably aroused.

You don’t open or use your own Tangy Mango body wash just yet. You continued inhaling that musky coconut vanilla smell, and wishing Charlie was in here with you. You reach down and begin rubbing your tingling clit with one finger. In your mind, you envision him backing you into the tile wall… lifting one of your legs… straddling you… and fucking you until you’re seeing stars. He always brings you to an earth-shaking orgasm every time and often has to catch you just so you won’t collapse from the powerful sensation.

You can feel tension building in your clit and slick walls, and you know you’re about to cum. But just then, you’re startled out of your fantasy by an unpleasant squeaking-scratching noise… almost like nails on a chalkboard.

“Meow!” Annabelle cries, digging her claws into the glass shower door.

“Shit, Annabelle!” you exclaim and then sigh, “I just can’t with you today.”

You sigh and promise to play with her later. Talk about having cold water thrown in your face. You finish your shower, not feeling very aroused anymore, and begin drying off. Annabelle is still sitting there in the bathroom, meowing her head off.

You realize the problem would be much, much worse if you had human kids. It’s no wonder you’re not ready yet.

You continue sweet talking the cat as you get dressed in a pair of tiny black workout shorts and a matching black sports bra, along with your gym shoes and socks. You’re bound and determined to make Charlie cave in and lose the bet today.

Annabelle runs several steps ahead of you down the hallway and down, down, down the stairs to the first floor. You follow her right into the kitchen, where you find your man sitting at the table eating breakfast and reading the papers. The table and kitchen island are covered with numerous vases of roses and red heart shaped balloons from yesterday. Charlie gave you a large quantity of roses, of course, plus that thick Tiffany diamond choker you wanted that covers your entire neck. The other roses, balloons, and the box of chocolates from last night were gifts from your besties.

“Good morning,” you greet him.

“Morning, y/n,” he replies, not looking up from the papers.

You sit down in your chair and then just stare at him. He’s wearing his reading glasses again and occasionally taking bites from a scone covered in strawberry jam. What you notice most is his white tank top… his broad shoulders… and his muscular arms. You take a quick glance under the table and look at his toned legs in his black gym shorts. He is such a snack.

It doesn’t take Charlie long to notice the way you’re likely undressing him with your eyes. Of course you are. He takes off his glasses and finally looks at you, smiling and making you more than a little wet.

From the way you two are smiling at each other, you almost wonder if he’s forgotten about that ridiculous bet from last night.

“Are you ready to work out today?” you ask, knowing that will definitely “break” you both.

“Hell yes, I am,” he replies, very confidently.

“You think you can keep up with me??” you challenge, taking a scone from the tray and slathering it with grape jam.

“You think you can keep up with me?” he counters, smirking and flexing his shoulders like he’s warming up.

Fuuuuuuuckkkk….

“Of course I can! I bet I can…” you start, but are quickly interrupted by a loud meowing again.

Charlie loses interest in your discussion to focus on his cat. “Commere, Annabelle… commere, baby…” he coos, gently clapping his hands for her to come over.

You sigh and shake your head as his spoiled rotten princess trots right over to him. He pets her on the head as she meows happily. Then she lies down on the hardwood floor, rolls over on her back, and wiggles around. He reaches down, and to your surprise, Annabelle lets him rub her belly. She tries to scratch you whenever you pet her there!

“Good girl…” he praises while she purrs.

After a minute or two, she gets up and walks over to her food dish, sticking her face in tuna pate.

“Maybe I should start lying down on the floor, rolling around on my back, and meowing to get your attention,” you suggest, only half-joking. “You would definitely make me purr.”

“If you want to get covered in cat hair, go right on ahead,” he snorts, pouring a glass of orange juice. Part of it spills over the side of the glass, and just like clockwork, he stretches out his long, juicy tongue to clean it up. He licks slowly up the side of the glass before even a drop hits the table.

You gasp. Holy shit was that hot. Charlie definitely knows how to tease you when he wants.

But then you remember the bet. Nope, you’re not caving in. But he might…

Quickly, you take a very large banana from the fruit bowl on the table. You peel it and then proceed to force the entire thing, about the same length as his cock, into your mouth and down your throat in one bite. You’re not very graceful in the end, however, and you almost choke while you’re swallowing. You make a quick grab for a glass of water on the table. So much for trying to look sexy!

He just sits there and shakes his pretty blonde head and looks like he’s trying not to laugh. “You know you look utterly ridiculous right now, yes?” he asks.

“And you looked utterly ridiculous licking that glass a moment ago,” you counter.

No, he really didn’t. You’re still sitting there creaming, imagining his slick tongue plunging deep into your sugar walls, licking and swirling around your clit…

Holy shit. You feel yourself breaking out in a sweat. You need some alone time, stat.

“We’ll see who looks ridiculous when she loses the bet later today!” he exclaims, smirking again.

You quickly excuse yourself from the roses-and-balloons-covered table. You don’t want to look suspicious, however.

“I’ll be right back, Charlie,” you inform him calmly, not even waiting for him to answer as you exit the dining room.

You sneak back upstairs and into the bathroom where some orgasmic magic almost happened a few minutes ago. You make sure that damn cat isn’t hiding anywhere and Charlie hasn’t followed you. Then you lock the door and sit down on the cold tile with the soles of your feet pressed tightly together. You slid one hand inside your tight gym shorts and begin furiously rubbing on your wet, tingling clit.

Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth your anxious finger goes. That familiar tension begins building once again… and releases. Your breath catches in your throat, your heart pounds, your eyes close, and your mouth drops open as you ride out the intense rush of euphoria.

It takes you a moment to start breathing normally again. When you finally do, you realize you’re sweating like mad. You laugh awkwardly when you notice your shorts are soaked. Damn, that was good, you think to yourself. Not as good as when Charlie makes you cum, but satisfying nonetheless.

You’re about to exit the bathroom when you hear someone knocking on the door. Your heart jumps a mile.

“I know what you’re doing in there, y/n. You should be ashamed of yourself,” Charlie calls through the door in a teasing manner.

Shit, how did he guess??

You quickly scramble to your feet. How long have you been in here, shamelessly pleasuring yourself?! You turn on your electric toothbrush to make it sound like you’re doing anything but.

“That’s what I thought,” he chortles.

Damn! The toothbrush does sound just like a vibrator!

You decide you’re tired of this little game. You put your electric toothbrush in your mouth and open the door.

“Darling, you must be bloody fucking desperate to pleasure yourself with that thing,” he jokes, looking at you like you’ve gone mad.

That does it. You’re fed up with Charlie’s teasing. You take the toothbrush out of your mouth and pull your hand back like you’re about to swing it at him. He grabs your wrist with one strong hand and stops you. He’s not laughing anymore, either.

(You weren’t really planning to hit him. Not someone as gorgeous as he is.)

“Hell hath no fury like a woman in heat,” he declares, shaking his head. His bold blue eyes stay locked with yours as he sets your electric toothbrush back on the counter. “Now stop fucking around and come downstairs. I’m going to wear your little arse out.”

God, why did his “threat” have to sound so hot? All you want to do is shove him down in bed and make him pound you like bread dough. Fuck the bet.

Charlie licks his lips again and doesn’t say a word as he walks away.  

You wait about five minutes after he’s gone to head out of the bathroom. When you finally emerge into the hallway, you can hear Mrs. Anderson hoovering in another room. You make your way downstairs to your home gym, where you find Charlie sitting on the bench, stretching and warming up. You tie your hair up in a high ponytail, which he usually likes.

“Ah, there you are, y/n. I thought you chickened out on me,” he muses, smirking.

“Dream on,” you dismiss, sitting down on the bench with your back to him.

You stretch your arms way up, and this way, and that way. You stand up, stretch your back, squat a few times (you glance behind you to see if he’s watching your booty, but no), up, down, up down, again, and again…

“Are you ready to begin?” he asks you after a few minutes of warming up.

“Of course,” you answer, determinedly.

“Then we’re going to do pushups first,” Charlie directs, getting down on the floor and into position. "I'll tell you when to stop.”

You get down on the floor next to him, and you both count while you do pushups. You glance up at him every so often and get insanely turned on by the way he is sweating so much.

“…nine-hundred and ninety-nine… one thousand. And stop,” he commands.

You both push down on the floor one last time and get into upright positions. Then you and Charlie rest for a moment, catching your breath.

“Tired yet?” he asks, a note of teasing in his voice.

“Nope,” you answer quickly. Then you cleverly add, “I was actually hoping we’d go to two thousand.”

He gives you this look. “We’re doing crunches next,” he states firmly. “Now lie down,”

Your heart nearly jumps through your throat. Usually when Charlie tells you to lie down, it’s because he’s about to climb on top of you and rail you all nice and rough. Your kitty salivates and tingles at the thought of his sweaty, muscular body on top of you, all over you, and of course, inside you.

“Y/n, are you listening to me?” he asks, after you just stand there staring at him for a moment (undoubtedly with a sly, eager grin on your face).

“Um, yes,” you reply, knowing that he knows exactly what you’re thinking. Then you get serious. “Let’s do this.”

You and Charlie lie down on the mat, side by side, and he counts as you both do endless abdominal crunches. You always love watching him do crunches because of the way he flexes his abs. You only wish he had gone shirtless today so you could thirst over him even more than you do.

He makes sure you don’t stop until he’s counted to five hundred. No wonder you two have such amazing bodies and high stamina… not to mention very high, insatiable sex drives.

Next, he leads you in squats and lunges. He scolds you for staring at his tight arse the whole time, even though you know he’s doing the same to you.

“You grab at my arse and you’ve lost the bet,” you tease, silently begging him to reach over and squeeze your buns. Not so he’ll lose the bet, but just because you’re dying for him to touch you.

“Same to you, love,” Charlie quickly reminds you.

Once you two are finished squatting and lunging, he informs you that he’s going to use his weight machine for a while. When it’s clear he’s not going to be your personal trainer anymore today, you head over to your elliptical. Your energy level is through the roof, and you’re in beast mode now. You ride that thing rough and hard, almost like you do Charlie when he lets you! He’s usually on top, so this doesn’t happen too often.

The whole time you’re riding, you keep one eye on your man, too. You love watching him flex his muscular arms… and the way he is sweating so hard. One reason you love post-workout sex is he gets his sweat all over you. It’s almost like a fetish of yours.

You stop riding after about fifteen minutes. Right as you climb down from your elliptical, Charlie ends his weight training for the day. Satisfied with his workout results, you watch as he kisses his biceps, one after the other. He then grabs a towel and dries his sweaty face and upper chest.

Dayyum!

You just stand there next to your elliptical with your mouth hanging wide open. It takes him a moment to notice the way you’re standing there staring at him and looking like you’re dying of thirst.

Charlie knows just what you’re thinking, and you know he is feeling the same way.

Slowly, as if you two are in a trance, you start walking towards each other. Your heart pounds in your ears and your kitty salivates as you and your man put your arms around each other… and begin kissing rough and furiously.

Your heartrate goes through the roof, and you instantly feel weak and breathless. You feel so faint that you have to grab onto him tightly for support. You two have finally succumbed to your desires… and the bet is off.

“Mmmmmphh…” you mumble as his eager mouth forces yours open. This time, though, you take the lead and let your tongue dart in and out of his mouth. You’re not going to let him have all the fun. You pull your face back just an inch or so and trace your eager tongue over his perfectly straight, white teeth. Then you flick your tongue over his gently parted lips.

Charlie responds by placing one strong hand on the back of your head and smashing his lips into yours. He slips his anxious hands under your sports bra, cupping your tits and making your nipples harden. At the same time, you two begin to slowly sink down onto the floor.

You gasp as he lays most of his bodyweight down on top of you, rips off your top and buries his rough face in your heaving bosom. He sits up for a moment and you stare into his baby blues longingly. You pull off his sweaty tank top and toss it aside, using your hands to absorb the sweat from his chest. Charlie climbs on top of you again, and you can feel his massive hard cock pressing into your thighs. At the same time, his long, agile fingers begin sliding under your barely-there shorts, gently kneading your firm ass.

“Oh God…” you moan into his mouth, feeling his fingers slipping into your wetness.

“You want it, y/n?” he asks, his voice husky and barely audible.

“Yes…” you respond, desperately. “Oh!” you cry sharply as one of his fingers brushes your tingling clit. This is enough to make your back arch stiffly.

  “You really want it, love??” Charlie teases, reaching down to lower his gym shorts.

Oh shit, your mind races. He’s about to fuck you senseless right here on the floor. You have another idea, though. Before he pulls down his and your shorts, you make your voice heard.

“Let’s go to bed…” you urge, your voice full of need.

“You want me to take you to bed?? Is that what you want?” he continues, grinning from the way he is killing you with desire. He knows it too.

“Please…” you whine.

“All right then, y/n,” he agrees in a soft, gentle voice.

He stands up slowly, picking you up with him. You don’t even bother to reach for your top. You put your arms around his neck and press your sweaty upper body into his chest. It’s almost like you’re melting into him. Slowly and steadily, your man carries you in his strong arms out of your home gym, up those soft, carpeted stairs, and into the cozy, warm darkness of your bedroom. Neither of you reach for the overhead light switch. There is a gentle glow of sunlight streaming in through the window. Charlie closes and locks the door behind him, and then lays you down on that huge, downy soft bed in which you two have had scorching, passionate sex so many times.

He lays you down on the edge of the bed on your back and gazes upon you for a moment, his eyes full of lust. Without saying a word, he removes your athletic shoes, socks, and your indecently short shorts. He gives you a sly grin, and you know it’s because you aren’t wearing panties. With your lower half hanging off the edge of the bed, Charlie straddles you and lifts up one of your long, toned legs. He presses your bare foot against his face for a while, maintaining eye contact with you the whole time. It’s almost like he’s trying to decide which one of your holes he wants first.

Charlie kisses your foot (kinky!) before slowly letting go of your leg. He keeps standing there between your legs, looking like he’s sizing up his prey.

“Please… fuck me…” you beg softly, unable to stand this thick tension any longer.

You keep staring at that huge bulging in his shorts, and your body aches to have him inside you.

“What was that, love??” he asks, reaching down to remove his gym shoes and socks.

He knows exactly what you said! Your heartrate suddenly jumps tenfold and your eyes grow very wide as he begins to climb on top of you. He kisses you hard and rough, leaving you unable to speak.

“Please… fuck me…” you plead desperately, your pussy salivating enough to make a wet spot where you lay.

“Be patient, y/n,” Charlie whispers gently, his luscious lips teasing and tormenting you to no end.

“No, I won’t be patient,” you protest. “I want your cock! I want you to…”

He puts his gently parted lips on yours long enough silence you. His kisses always take your breath away, and he knows you really enjoy his delicious foreplay.

You place your hands in his honey blonde hair as he aggressively kisses you all over your body, making you moan with abandon. He takes both of your large tits (which are natural and not a surgeon’s handiwork) into his powerful hands. Charlie buries his face in your cleavage, and then sucks both of your hard nipples at the same time. Your clit tenses and your toes curl under like you’re about to cum. He stops before you can, however. He lowers his head out of your grasp, and you feel him kiss, kiss, kissing the tender flesh of your inner thighs.

“Oh God! Charlie! Charlie!” you cry out in a strangled voice as his long, snakelike tongue takes one long lick of your soaking wet kitty, the tip of his tongue lingering on your tingling clit. He gets such a thrill out of hearing you shout his name like this.

He removes his face from your pussy and looks up at you. You’re lying there with your head sunk far back in the pillows and your eyes closed, like you’re completely comatose with pleasure. You open your eyes just in time to see your man pulling down his gym shorts and silky Calvins. He lets both of them slide down his strong legs and onto the floor, revealing his huge dick, which is harder than a rock.

Before you have time to process what is happening, Charlie forces your legs open with his own, sinks down on top of you and plunges his massive erection into the tight wetness of your cunt. A combination of a moan and sharp cry escapes your mouth as he begins thrusting, hitting just the right sweet spot every single time. He groans deeply as he pounds your slick pussy, thrusting harder… faster… and deeper with each thrust. You moan and shout desperately, knowing you’re not going to last much longer. Charlie grips your upper thighs with his powerful hands, holding your legs apart, and keeping you right where he wants you. You place your hands on his strong back while he fucks you senseless, feeling his sweat dripping onto your face. The salty taste of his sweat is both pleasant and bitter as it runs into your mouth and pushes you even closer to the breaking point.

Suddenly, your passion erupts. Your breath catches in your throat as your clit throbs and your sugar walls tighten and spasm. Your sigh deeply and your eyes close as wave after wave of electrifying orgasm rocks your body. You feel your fluid squirting all over his cock, and your acrylic tips dig into his back. Your toes curl into a death grip on the silky white sheet underneath you, and your body goes weak and limp.

Your climax sets off a powerful chain reaction.

“Oh… fuck… I’m gonna cum… ohhhhh…” Charlie exclaims, knowing how much you love hearing him say it.

He gives a deep, satisfied groan and his whole body stiffens as he cums in one powerful rush. His mouth opens wide and tears flood his eyes from the feeling of release. You feel his cock throbbing as he fills you with hot, sticky cum… spurting you full until you feel like a dam has burst inside your pussy. A few seconds later, he withdraws and lays his sweaty, exhausted body on top of yours. You are in such a state of cock-drunk euphoria that you don’t even seem to notice all the extra weight on your body. Charlie rests his head on your shoulder, and you feel his warm breath puffing against your neck as he recovers. You regain enough strength to put your arms around his shoulders and kiss the top of his head, burying your face in his sweat-soaked hair.

Finally, you sit up enough so that he can rest his head on your chest. He’s literally laying his head on your “pillows.” Sometimes he cradles your head against his hard chest post-sex, and sometimes, it’s the opposite. When his breathing has steadied and returned to normal, he gazes up at you with his piercing blue eyes and smiles. You smile back, without saying a word, and begin lovingly running your fingers through his hair. You two lay together, soaked in each other’s sweat, in post-coital bliss, knowing that this day of scorching hot passion is far from over.

To be continued...

[kastlequill]

i. beggin' for thread

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader word count: 3.9k synopsis: your first run-in with the not-so-friendly neighborhood spider-man as the black cat of earth-928 tags: whump/angst, first meetings, strangers to enemies, restraints (and not in a sexy way), unresolved tension, size difference, hurt no comfort, black cat!reader warnings: reference of past canonical sexual assault, dealing with trauma ao3: read here next → 

Your head was pounding something fierce—this was the first and only thought that entered your mind, still a bit dazed upon only just regaining consciousness.

Despite the fact that you could hear your own heartbeat pulsating loudly in the space between your two ears, it didn’t seem likely that the dull, rhythmic thud had roused you from sleep. As you gradually became more lucid, your awareness of the other parts of your body also improved. Then, the sudden sensation of blood rushing towards your head threatened to pull you under once again. 

That’ll do it, you thought, a small groan escaping your lips. 

You were upside down. Hanging by your ankles, which were tied to the neck of a streetlamp with the thickest, stickiest, weirdest rope you’d ever fucking seen.

The force of gravity on your entire blood supply had probably signaled your nervous system to implement its fight-or-flight response, causing you to jerk awake. You didn’t know how long you’d been hanging here, but you did know that the pressure was quickly becoming unbearable. 

A wave of dizziness hit, and you clenched your teeth to keep another pained hiss from slipping out of you. 

It’d be easier to come up with an escape plan if your brain wasn’t currently being compressed into mush. 

Think, think, think. 

What had your father always said? All you’ll ever need to get yourself out of a nasty situation is one free hand, sweetheart. 

Wiggling your hands around in your restraints allowed some blood to return to them, and with the feeling in your fingers back, you used the sharpened edge of your index claw to saw away at the ties around your wrists. This material was thinner in comparison to that of the other rope that bound you to the lamppost, but at the rate you were going, you’d nonetheless be stuck for at least the next hour. 

Several minutes of silent work passed until you couldn’t contain your frustration anymore. Although it would only waste your precious energy, you thrashed about in your confines, too angry to care much for logic. After a few more seconds of struggling, you felt your body go lax, truly spent. However, while you were physically exhausted, you’d only become increasingly riled up as time had gone by, and you were ready to verbally spar whoever had decided to play this dirty trick on you. 

“Ever heard it’s impolite to leave a lady high and dry?” 

You spoke the question into the dead of night, your intonation steady and unaffected. Something gave you the impression that whoever had tied you up would be able to hear your words even if you whispered them, so you didn’t want to debase yourself by yelling or appearing as though you had lost your cool. 

But oh, were you furious.  

“Little criminals like you are exempt from that rule, or haven’t you heard?” a male voice traveled with the wind, reverberating everywhere around you. “It’s a shame that you gave in so soon, I was quite enjoying those last ten minutes. Is that all the stamina you’ve got? Que decepcionante.” 

He emerged from above and landed smoothly in front of you, feet planted, knees bent, ground trembling. When he uncoiled himself and rose to his full height, you had to swallow a gasp.  

This man was a fucking tank. 

The form-fitting navy blue and red suit he wore did nothing to hide the definition of his infinite many muscles or the planes and curves of his body. So though he technically showed no skin, only his masked face truly left something to the imagination; unlike yours, which covered just the areas that bordered your eyes, he had complete anonymity. His broad shoulders blocked light from the other lampposts across the street, outlining his silhouette in a way that should have terrified you. 

It didn’t. It really, really didn’t. 

Rather preoccupied with appraising his physique, you didn’t notice him stepping closer and closer until he was now but two feet away. This was the moment you discovered that, in addition to being built like a tank, he was a giant. 

His shadow loomed over you, painting you in darkness. Hanging from a streetlamp ten-feet tall, you resigned yourself to awkwardly staring at the navel of his stomach, while he was level with your upper thighs. 

The unfair reality of being at a height disadvantage.

“Before we continue sizing each other up,” you started to say, releasing a puff of air that sounded more like a wheeze than an exhale. “I should warn you: if I’m down here any longer, my brain will explode. Maybe it’s just me, but I sure wouldn’t want to spend my evening cleaning that up.” 

In response, the man knelt on the pavement so that you both were finally able to at least somewhat look at one another for the remainder of this hopefully-short conversation. Even kneeling, he was still tall enough to look down his nose at you, probably scrutinizing your sweat-drenched face. 

Had his mother fed him horses as a kid? Why was he so fucking huge? 

You heard his tongue click and watched him tilt his head to the side, as if he was seeing you for the first time. “Bit dramatic, aren’t we?” 

“Easy for someone rightside up to say,” you grumbled, squinting at where the red details of his mask indicated his eyes. “Is this how you flirt, big guy? Bit old to be picking on girls we find pretty, aren’t we?” 

The growl that tore itself from deep within his chest warned you to tread carefully, but you were never one to turn tail and run when things were just getting interesting. 

If he wanted to be sassy, well, you’d show him sassy. 

“How about this: you free me, then we can play fair and square. No restraints necessary.” You accompanied the suggestion with a subtle pout for good measure. Sure, curiosity killed the cat, but your desire to know the limits to which you could push this man temporarily surpassed your self-preservative instincts. To contrast how your eyes widened in mock-innocence, you adopted a low, sultry tone of voice. “Unless, of course, you’re into that.” 

Faster than you could fathom, the man stood, unsheathed his talons, and cut a seamless line through your restraints, sending you straight into his awaiting arms. What might’ve initially seemed sweet quickly turned sour as he immediately pushed you against the pole of the streetlamp. Heedless of your protests, he rewrapped you in more of that strange rope. Except, the ‘rope’ projected out from his wrists. 

Who the hell—?

In your state of confusion, you failed to anticipate him clasping a hand across the lower half of your face, preventing you from saying another word. 

“Enough games. I have questions,” he spoke directly into your ear, the sarcastic humor he had previously addressed you with now completely absent, replaced by an eerily calm inflection. The hand over your mouth moved to grab your chin, tilting it towards his own face. “And you’re going to answer them. Nod if you understand.” 

You briefly considered biting his fingers just to teach the ass a lesson, but you held back. He had tensed each and every muscle in sight, his reflexes newly primed for a possible attack, which meant that the fun stuff was over, and all that remained of this interaction was the not-so-fun stuff. 

Reluctantly, you nodded. 

At your acceptance, his hand left you altogether and relocated to grab onto the bit of pole above your head to support the weight of his body as he leaned forward. The textbook intimidation tactic to accentuate a preexisting size difference between foes, evoking the feelings of prey, like fear and defeat.

You were feeling something alright. Intimidated wasn’t exactly how you would describe it. 

“What’s your name?”

A standard first question, and yet you hadn’t expected it in the slightest. Naturally, he wasn’t asking for your civilian name, but rather for your alias; the name that corresponded with the suit. 

Compared to his fancy, high-tech, synthetic suit, your all-black spandex accented with white fur was a joke. You couldn’t be too harsh on yourself, though. This—vigilantism, petty theft, getting superglued to a lamppost by some guy—was a new world to you. It was a given that you would have an adjustment period. 

Soon, you’d have your shit figured out; a name, a better suit, a concrete idea of what you were even intending to accomplish in the long run. 

“My name,” you echoed. “Would you believe me if I told you I still haven’t decided?” 

A few seconds went by of him presumably staring into your eyes, which were actually unclouded and unguarded for once. Perhaps he was searching for something particular, and perhaps he found whatever it was, because he continued on. 

“Did someone hire you?”

“Slow down there, mister. Don’t I get to ask you a question too? I scratch your back, you scratch mine, that type of thing?” 

He mumbled a string of words to himself that you couldn’t understand, but the annoyance he injected into whatever he’d said transcended language barriers. “You’re in no position to be making demands. Besides, I don’t negotiate with criminals.” 

“Not a criminal,” you huffed, tearing your eyes away from his invisible yet penetrating gaze. Or at least, you weren’t a criminal yet. “What’s your name?”

Through the conforming material of his mask, you could tell that the question had also surprised him. The material stretched upward as his eyebrows raised then lowered again, settling into a straight line, furrowing at the middle. “I’m Spider-Man.” 

The name rang a bell. You had read a number of morning newspapers that featured him as the headline, Spider-Man typed in bold lettering to entice prospective buyers. They usually contained editorials about his impressive résumé against an array of villains and interviews with people he had saved, but the only photos of him were always blurry shots taken mid-swing.

“Spider-Man? That explains the whole hanging me upside down thing. Is this how you court all your women? For future reference, you don’t need to knock me out just to lure me into your little web. I’m not usually a booty call type of gal, but you can be my special boy.” 

“Stop that,” he—Spider-Man—snapped. 

It was your turn to raise your brows at him. “Stop what?”

“You know what.” The red markings of Spider-Man’s eyes narrowed into a glare, and his voice dripped with disapproval. “Stop trying to flirt with me.”

Oh, you’d been terribly wrong earlier; there was still much fun to be had here. 

“I’m not trying to flirt with you, silly.” You made a great show of batting your lashes, stepping into the role of a lovesick fan infatuated with the superhero in front of you. “I either am, or I’m not.” 

He inhaled sharply, and his breathing quickened. The back that had captivated your attention from the get-go hunched further into you, caving in, as if he wanted nothing more than to encase you in the breadth of him. His movements were so incremental and inadvertent that you didn’t think he was even aware of how he’d closed the gap between the two of you.

Absolutely fascinating.

“If it’s working, then I am,” you teased, donning a sly smile, nudging your lips higher to brush against his neck, gaze lifting to where a slight dip in the mask revealed the curve of his mouth. “If it’s not, well. . .”

The sound of metal crunching startled you, and an upward glance confirmed the presence of a sizable dent in the part of the pole he had been holding onto; it now resembled a crushed soda can. When you redirected your focus from the lamppost to him, you were greeted by the image of him running a hand over his masked face in frustration. Whether he was upset at you or at himself, you weren’t sure. 

It sent a shiver down your spine regardless. 

Sooner than you had predicted, Spider-Man recollected his composure and resumed towering over you. He’d assumed a more reserved stance, both hands on his hips, nowhere near you. The placement drew you to the slimness of his waist, the large expanse of his upper body tapering to a defined V-shape—

“Be a good kitty and answer the question,” he interrupted your train of thought, punctuating the command with a condescending pat on the top of your head. 

As shameful as it was to admit, the combination of the pet name and the casual contact did you in. And judging by the arrogant uptilt of his chin, he’d known just the right buttons to push. 

“Alone,” you relented. “I’m alone.” 

Spider-Man gave a noncommittal hum and started to slowly circle the pole, and therefore you, like a shark honing in on its prey after scenting blood from a distance. Within the span of a few short minutes, your sarcastic remark about being ensnared in his web had manifested your current reality: you were the poor, unfortunate fly who had strayed into the territory of an apex predator, and he was the ravenous spider who was going to capitalize on your carelessness. 

Once satisfied that you were telling the truth, he ceased pacing and finally asked the question he’d been building up to all night. 

“Why did you attempt to murder an innocent civilian tonight?” 

Time itself came to a resounding hault. This inquiry was unlike the previous two in that hearing it felt akin to having a bucket of freezing cold water dumped onto your head. You were yanked from the false sense of security into which he had lulled you through his reciprocity of your banter. 

Blindsided by the enemy. A rookie mistake. 

Never again.

Your brain, slow to recover from the disillusionment, had to pick apart the sentence so as to even begin processing its implications. 

Attempt. Murder. Innocent. Civilian. 

Innocent. 

“Innocent?” The laugh that ripped from your throat was dark and bitter. “You think that son of a bitch is innocent?” 

Spider-Man recoiled, clearly not expecting such a vehement reaction. 

“Let me tell you this, Spider-Man,” you said his name like a curse. The direction he had decided to lead this conversation extinguished whatever fascination he’d initially sparked. “That trash deserves a fate worse than death, but seeing as he’s managed to avoid every punishment the universe has thrown at him thus far, death will have to do.”

“Who is he?” 

“A fucking rapist, that’s who he is. Another man who can’t take no for an answer, who thinks he’s entitled to a woman’s body. He—” 

The reflexive constriction of your airways forced you to pause and compose yourself before persevering. 

“There was a girl a few years ago. She trusted him to never hurt her, and he—” You couldn’t even say it. “The legal system failed that girl, has failed so many girls just like her. But I can get them their justice, I can bring them a bit of peace in knowing that the men who hurt them are no longer on this godforsaken earth. That those scum can walk among us freely, can go about the rest of their lives without consequence—it makes me sick.”

Acid coated your tongue, and the taste of your own venom inflicted further pain upon you. That was the thing about hate: it gradually poisoned its cultivator in addition to its target. Nevertheless, you would gladly sacrifice your health if it meant you could wield this double-edged sword and find comfort in its damage until the very end. 

“So no, me killing that maggot piece of shit isn’t murder. It’s what I’m owed,” you spat. The effects of adrenaline had faded, and an awful ache was spreading throughout your fatigued leg muscles as a result of the night’s physically-intensive events. Its searing throb reminded you of the fact that you were still tied up, at the mercy of this so-called superhero. “Though I suspect you don’t understand, and you probably never will. You men are all the same.” 

Spider-Man had ignited within you the familiar burn of betrayal; you had lowered your guard, and then he had aimed for where you were most vulnerable. Of course, he hadn’t been aware of your history with the target, but he had chosen words that would hurt you just the same. 

A sudden realization threatened to incapacitate you entirely:

Attempt. 

Spider-Man had said attempt.

“My turn.” Your voice was hoarse from the strain of choking back tears. “Did I get him?”

The most important question yet; you were at a fork in the road, and his response would determine which path you walked. Should it be the case that you had succeeded in your objective, then there was a glimmer of hope for you to have a normal, law-abiding life. On the other hand, if you failed to exterminate that vermin, this personal quest for revenge would morph into something much bigger and badder.  

The latter scenario would allow you plenty of chances to show Spider-Man why he shouldn't interfere with a kill that was rightfully yours. 

At some point, he had opted to give you your space by distancing himself from the lamppost that bound you. Not once had he spoken since asking you who and why; no reactions or comments, only intent, quiet listening. And though you had now posed him a question of your own, his masked features offered no hints as to what his thoughts contained. 

That just wouldn’t do. You needed an answer. 

“Spider-Man, did I get him? Tell me I got him. Please, tell me I killed him.” 

If there was anything you despised more than feeling helpless, it was groveling. However, despite the humiliation that blanketed you and brought heat to your cheeks, you were not above begging when necessary. 

This specific scrap of information was well worth the bruised ego. 

He inhaled deeply, held the air inside his lungs for longer than was normal, then exhaled. This process was repeated several times as evidenced by the rise and fall of his chest. Therapy had taught you that the intentional regulation of breathing helped clear the mind, so you speculated this was a method of meditation for him too as he mulled over whether or not to answer your pleas.  

“You got him. Already dead when I arrived.”

The confirmation triggered your shoulders to slump forward and collapse in relief now that they were relieved of carrying the weight of the world upon them. 

I got him. I got him. 

The sobs building in your core could no longer be silenced, and years of repressed emotions finally poured out of you, wave after wave. First was anger, then came sadness, then relief, and ultimately emptiness. Incrementally, each wave subsided, giving way to its successor; this final wave, however, mounted into a tsunami of insurmountable height, seeking to drown you in its depths. 

For the past many years, you had funneled the sum of your waking hours into the sole task of securing this kill. So who were you supposed to be now that the work was done? Where were you to go, what were you to do? 

Hollow of life, drained of energy, devoid of meaning. 

This was who you had become. 

Through vision blurred by tears, you noticed something sharp glinting in the moonlight—talons. They were all you could focus on as he stalked closer to the streetlamp and extended them towards you. 

You stiffened, readying yourself for the possibility of a fight, but Spider-Man continued to surprise you.  

He trailed the back of his hand along the side of your face, one talon wiping away a lone tear from your cheek, another catching on the skin at the edge of your jaw, nicking it. The cut stung, and Spider-Man pressed down on it with his thumb, either because he was a sadist who wished to witness you wince in discomfort, or because he found the sight of your blood troubling. Ironic, considering he’d been the one to spill it. 

Or maybe that was exactly why it troubled him. 

After ensuring the injury was superficial, his taloned fingers continued their exploration of you, traveling south to skim the base of your neck. There was nothing you could do to stop him from delivering your death then and there, and yet he didn’t seize the opportunity. Still, you couldn’t be certain that he had no plans to at last put an end to this dangerous game, of which you both had undeniably been active, willing participants. 

Except, rather than striking a killing blow, he sliced through your bondages with a solitary swipe then retracted his talons. 

“Go home,” Spider-Man ordered softly as he walked a few paces backward, his masked stare never straying from you. “Next time, I won’t let you off so easy.” 

Without another glance, he slung away into the night, leaving you to your own devices. But although Spider-Man was gone, the ghost of his touch lingered. 

You hated that you didn’t want your skin to forget his hands, wishing instead that he’d stay. You hated that you were glad to have met him, circumstances be damned. You hated that he had more of an effect on you than you on him. You hated that you wondered how things would be different between you if he weren’t Spider-Man, if you weren’t you. 

Most of all, you loathed that Spider-Man had witnessed you come undone. 

Everything culminated into a single, guttural scream, the kind that made you double over at the sheer force of it and dig your nails into your chest. It echoed, bouncing off the sides of nearby buildings and returning to you, its source. 

Unable to support the heft of your own body anymore, your shaky legs gave out from beneath you. Unlike earlier, no Spider was around to catch you in his arms, so your knees hit the ground, hard and unforgiving. Your already-sore joints protested upon impact, but that didn’t matter. 

I got him. I killed him. Years of training and preparing have led me to this moment; I can finally rest. 

Yet the emptiness and the hatred remained, latching onto you like a wound that had festered for too long and was now forever etched into your flesh. A scar that hurt when prodded despite having ceased to bleed ages ago. 

The pain refused to be erased. 

There on the concrete pavement of a random alley, you knew that your crusade was far from over. As soon as you recovered from the ramifications of tonight, to the streets you would return, prepared to take on the worst this city had to offer. And maybe you’d also make some money on the side by putting to good use the feline art of burglarizing, like your father had always hoped you would. 

Crossing paths with the Spider-Man again was inevitable. He’d warned you to stay clear of crime, but he had disappeared before you could warn him that, the next time he got in your way, you’d claw his heart out. 

tbc.

[masoena]

Trust Fall Right Onto Sam's...

Trigger warning: This is a consensual non-consent story that with extreme breathplay and extremely rough oral sex. There are safewords, gestures and non-verbal safewords in place, at no point is either participant unwilling.

Note that the scene described in this fic is exactly that fiction, please do not attempt to recreate any of this in real life.

Prompt filled: Face Fucking for Kinky Sam Winchester Week hosted by SPN Kink Events

“Are you sure about this Dean?”

“Yeah with you I’m sure, I trust you.”

Sam had come home after a fairly uneventful day of researching at the library while Dean apparently had been busy planning out a sexy evening for the two of them, wanting to try out something they’d never done before.

Long gone was the memory foam mattress on a simple bed frame that Dean used to love so much. Now the room boasted an extra long king size bed that had a proper head and footboard that they loved to peruse on the regular for many unbrotherly things.

Dean was presently kneeling up at the foot of their bed, back flush against the footboard of the bed from butt to the back of his head. His wrists were securely bound behind his back with leather cuffs connected with a quick release carabiner. In this position Sam’s groin was at the exact same height as Dean’s mouth.

Once this romantic, sex thing started between them their communication improved and opened up and Sam was no longer annoyed when Dean left porn sites open on his laptop but took great pleasure in putting Dean through some of the scenarios featured on them. He had become quite adept at Dean porn interest sleuthing though sometimes Dean would look at things just to see if Sam would go for it.

Sitting on the bed rather innocently was a long leather belt purpose-bought for this experiment.

Sam moved it so it was within easy reach for him and undid the fly of his well worn denim jeans so that his cock and balls were framed by a triangle of washed out blue fabric. Dean licked his lips unconsciously at the delicious sight of Sam’s semi-hard cock.

“Get to it pet, make me hard, let’s see what those gorgeous lips of yours can do.”

Sam felt exhilarated as he slipped into the role that Dean had asked him to assume for this scene, his exact words were toppy bastard who made him take it all. All of this was previously discussed in much detail, safewords, sounds and gestures firmly in place and Dean had insisted on there being a consensual non-consent element, wanting to play it like this was his first time blowing another man. He had carefully checked that Dean had the squishy soft and jingling cat toy in his hand as his safeword in account of not being able to vocalize much of anything for the next little while.

Sam pointed out that it would indeed be his first time and asked once more if he was sure he wanted to go this extreme. It would feel more real was all Dean answered. Sam at first refused the idea until a couple of nights later he came home earlier than planned from a supply run and caught Dean deepthroating a rubber dildo suction cupped to the shower wall and the sounds he was making coupled with an entirely absent gag reflex nearly had Sam cream his boxers on the spot. He managed to bring the subject matter up, as naturally as one could bring up CNC and face fucking your own brother. The long short of it was, Dean’s fantasy would become a reality.

Dean didn’t move and looked up at Sam defiantly. “I see how it is, bratty already, I’m going to have so much fun making you choke on my cock.” Sam gripped Dean by the hair on the top of his head. The dirty blond hair was just grown out long enough to make a perfect hand-hold for Sam to guide him where he wanted him to go while he aligned the leaky head of his cock and deliberately smeared it all over Dean’s pursed lips.

“No asshole, I don't want thi…mphf.” Sam waited for Dean to open his mouth around another vowel in his sassy little monologue and pushed in all the way down to the root, forcing Dean’s throat to stretch around his cock. Dean looked up at him, green eyes tearing up reflexively, his lips spread obscenely around the massive cock that stretched his jaws out wide and nearly took his breath away with its sheer girth. He realized that he couldn’t close his mouth even if he tried, he carefully kept his teeth from making contact with the velvet-soft hot column of flesh.

“Mmm…. that’s better nice and plugged up, should keep you like this all the time, huh? Perhaps I’ll get a deepthroat gag for you so that whenever we’re in the bunker you can practice and train your gag reflex. Would lock it with a small padlock that only I have a key for and make you sleep with it?”

Dean did a futile thrust with his hips because as much as Sam’s suggestion was preposterous the fantasy of it had his cock go impossibly harder than he already was and made him blurt another bead of precome to the floor below him.

“Hmm… you sick puppy you’d like that wouldn’t you, you’d probably crawl around on all fours and start rutting against my leg just to get off?” A shuddering groan vibrated all along Sam’s dick at that which had him choke down a deep groan of his own, working hard to stay in character.

Dean still managed to hold eye contact, swallowing around the erection in his throat, moans muffled by Sam’s magnificent size while his own dick stiffly bobbing against his belly painting sticky streaks of precome all over. The light and inconsistent touch of his cock to his own abs were the only friction and touch he was getting and with his hands bound there was precious little he could do about.

“Now let’s see what you can really do, huh gorgeous.” Sam dragged almost all the way out leaving just the head of his cock on Dean’s tongue. “Keep your tongue flat and out, yeah just like that pet.” Sam drove back in, the clenching heat of Dean’s throat felt amazing and he started pumping in and out languidly moving a little bit closer to Dean so that his head was flush with the bed and pinned him there with a rough grasp on his hair while he started fucking into the willing mouth. He was mesmerized by how his length disappeared one thick inch at a time with little to no resistance.

After the third time he leaned forward instead of pulling out, his hands supporting himself on the foot end of the bed. The sensation of Dean’s desperate puffs of air in and out of his nostrils against his pelvic bone, nose half smushed against Sam were utterly delightful. The longer Sam held himself down like that the more jittery Dean’s movements got, he could feel him trying to open his mouth wider to breathe around his cock but there simply was no way to get any air that way.

In his near futile quest for oxygen he swallowed over and over around Sam which caused mind blowingly stimulating contractions around Sam’s cock while he continued to hold himself there; Dean’s throat owned and his to control, his brother’s life completely in his hands right now.

“How are you doing down there pet, could literally make you pass out from sucking cock, your life in my hands pet?”

Dean moaned around Sam, his tongue shifting side to side trying to articulate pleas for mercy an entirely inefficacious effort. Sam had been silently counting down from 20 in his head this entire time, knowing exactly how long Dean could hold his breath and finally pulled out with one swift yank that had Dean coughing, spit drooling and dripping down his chin and onto his chest.

“Please…. please master no more.” Dean’s voice was completely shot rough like low grade sandpaper, his eyelashes moist with tears from the strain of it and the skin on his face red from the lack of air.

“Nuhu…. you still talk too much.” Sam thrust back in roughly and deep, his balls heavy against Dean’s chin while he started rolling his hips. His movements were shallower this time, his shaft never leaving Dean’s throat entirely, just moving about an inch of length in and out of him. He could see Dean’s shoulders flex and move, struggling against the inescapable bindings the carabiner well out of his reach with his wrists facing outwards. If anything the Winchesters were good at it was escaping being tied up. Unfortunately for Dean that also meant Sam was an excellent rigger in the bedroom. He wasn’t getting out of anything until Sam deemed it time to let him or if Dean called an end to things with a safeword or gesture.

Dean’s hips flexed and thrust in time with Sam’s rolling movements, needy little moans vibrating up the length of Sam’s cock on every forward push.

“You look gorgeous like that, yeah use that tongue and those lips, no more sass, no lip just a submissive good boy taking care of his master, aren’t you? I bet you wish you had a leg or even a pillow to rut against right now.”

Dean’s reaction to that statement didn’t disappoint as he whimpered in helpless arousal around the dick in his throat, looked up at Sam with puppy dog eyes pleading wordlessly for Sam to make true what he just insinuated.

Bratty boys don’t get rewards like that. Maybe once you’ve made me come I’ll help you out, if only you could rub against my leg right now, rough worn denim of my jeans, I bet that’d feel mighty nice on your needy cock huh?” Sam’s pace increased with every syllable of filth directed at Dean. Sas was certainly not unaffected by the debauched puddle of arousal he’d turned his brother into, kneeling at his feet, his lips swollen and pink from use.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen gorgeous, I’m going to pull out and you’ll keep your knees exactly where they are but you’ll have to reach my cock hands still tied behind your back and when you finally lose your balance and tip forward your beautiful mouth and throat will be helplessly impaled on my dick once more. If I feel generous which I’m not you may come at that point before that fuck your throat, tie you to my hips with the belt while I paint the inside of you with my cum.”

Sam had to pull back then because in his effort to sell the part Dean had asked of him, he had gotten himself so close to coming he curled tight fingers around the root of his erection to stave off the orgasm that nearly blindsided him just now.

He cleverly covered it up by pretending to hold his cock ready for Dean to envelope again with his mouth. He pulled the chair he’d positioned by the bed for this exact purpose behind himself and then got ready for the kinkiest trust fall of all time.

Dean stared at the rock-hard shaft and slowly leaned forward, Sam the fucker, he noticed, kept moving a little bit further back everytime he got close and when Dean reached the point of no return toppling forward with a panicked yelp without hands to catch his own fall Sam had him. His strong hands wrapped around Dean’s biceps and his mouth was plugged up with his cock the way it should be. Sam was sitting comfortably on the chair, sighing with contentment at how soft and hot his brother felt around him.

Dean’s body on the other hand was pivoted forward at his knees, his abs working overtime to keep his body in a straight line and without the chance to lift himself off of Sam’s dick even if he wanted to; gravity, Sam’s hands and his restraints working against him.

“Fuck… that was so hot Dean. Trust falling right onto my cock, you really are desperate for it aren’t you sweetheart? Put that tongue to work.” Sam leaned forward running warm palms up and down Dean’s back the movement pushed his pelvis against Dean’s nostrils flattening them in the process and Dean once more tried and failed to Sam’s complete benefit, to drag in air around the younger Winchester’s cock which created amazing and desperate stimulation around Sam’s length in the process.

Sam unhurriedly continued his pets and gentle affections while he could see Deans’ fists flex and pull against his restraints, his throat spasming around him as his air reserves slowly depleted. Sam only counted down from 15 this time and pulled Dean’s torso into a more vertical position to allow him a few hurried breaths of air through his nose. Dean tried to plead around the obscenely large prick in his mouth but other than garbled noises he didn’t manage much.

“Sorry darlin’ what was that? Oh, you want me to repeat that?”

Dean shook his head which was comical because his face was bracketed by Sam’s thighs on either side and all he achieved was more stimulation for Sam. Sam carefully observed every noise and movement of Dean to make sure he wasn’t safewording and the jingling cat toy was still fisted in his hand.

“Let’s see how long you can hold your breath pet and keep on licking or I’ll go longer, I still haven’t come yet so you better up your game and remember only good boys get to come.”

Dean outright whined at being called a good boy, his tongue running along Sam’s girth as best he could, curling his tip along the underside of it and tracing the prominent vein there.

“You like praise don’t you pet? Wanna do good for your master don’t you? Here we go, breathe in deeply for me.” Sam waited Dean out and pinched his nose shut before folding one of his legs over the other creating a headlock around Dean’s that made it impossible for him to move off his cock even a little bit. Dean didn’t look pretty like this but is sparked a fire in Sam’s gut to have him so utterly under his control, completely incapable of fighting back and he wasn’t even sure Dean did it consciously but the fact that he incessantly jutted his own hips into thin air only served to add fuel to the fire that slowly started gaining momentum within Sam.

The younger Winchester never had been a gentle, soft lover but this side of him at first scared him a bit until Dean’s compatible masochistic and submissive tendencies showed him that there was a highly compatible yin and yang connection between them. They had come to realize that it left them both more satisfied in the process.

Dean’s eyes were locked on to Sam’s with laser focus as Sam counted one-mississippi, two-mississippi upwards this time around, he made it all the way to 25 before Dean gave the safeword and dropped the toy. Sam immediately released him. He firmly pushed up on both of Dean’s shoulders to pivot him back into an upright position.

“So good my beautiful boy, fuck you have no idea how hot that was, the trust and gift you’re giving me by letting me be your first and don’t think I don’t know that you practiced. It shows, you’re gonna ruin me for everyone from this point forward.”

“I’m gonna bite your dick off if you’re letting anyone else near what’s mine master… Respectfully.” Dean added hurriedly, his voice rough and strained from the abuse his throat had so willingly taken.

“Oh you think this is yours, well then get back to it and scoot forward so you can rut against my pant leg and get your reward.”

Dean didn’t hesitate and knee walked right in between Sam’s legs fitting perfectly between his spread thighs, gently taking Sam back in his mouth which was harder than it would seem with how slick he’d made him. When he finally sank down all the way to the root once more they both groaned with how amazing it felt, Dean’s eyes fluttering closed as he started rutting against Sam’s leg the well-used denim felt heavenly against his sensitive cock that had been rubbing against nothing but thin air since all this started.

His hips pivoted up and down as he sucked on Sam’s cock like it was the best popsicle he’d ever tasted, moaning, grunting and groaning around it, deliberately letting his vocal cords and the sounds they made vibrate along the thick length. Sam all the while watched him with half-lidded eyes feeling as desperately if not more aroused than Dean. After a while Sam leaned back, strong column of his neck arched as he gently rolled his hips along with Dean’s efforts, it took herculean efforts on his part not to take and fuck into Dean with abandon.

Feeling him fuck his sticky slick hot length against his leg and the green lust blown eyes directed up at him whenever he looked down to met them was swiftly turning his own sparks of pleasure into more. His rope of control was down to the last strand when Dean slammed his hips up against his leg one last time before he could feel the hot wet spurts of Dean’s load drip down his leg soaking the fabric.

His patience was shot and his need desperate, so close to bursting Sam pushed the chair away from himself, hearing it clatter noisily a few feet behind him while he stood up tall and kept Dean wrapped around his cock both palms with cupping the back of his head fingers laced for leverate. He set a swiftly increasing pace pushing Dean down on himself over and over. The resulting squelching and glug sounds that emanated from Dean, his panted desperate gasps and struggling inhales through his nose filled the room and created an explosive harmony that rushed right into Sam’s tight coil of arousal that was about to spin out at any moment.

He pulled the leather belt around his hips while Dean kept bobbing his head as if Sam was still guiding his movements and when he felt the leather cinch tight around the nape of his neck he tried to pull away. A futile struggle against Sam’s overpowering strength in that moment had Sam’s lust unwind with a feral roar that ripped out of his throat as he buckled the belt around his hips and tied Dean’s face to his groin, one hand so tight in Dean’s hair the older Winchester worried about losing hair follicles in the process.

Sam came explosively and generously down Dean’s throat who barely even tasted him because Dean’s lips and nose were flush with Sam’s pelvis with the sparse hair tickling his nose. Sam rolled his hips stretching and using the pliable throat he was locked into. He pushed his hips forward taking Dean with him in the process.

Dean was struggling against him, not safewording but flailing wildly with his arms behind his back his cock already half hard again because he loved every second of this, his mind hazy and floaty from the mindblowing orgasm he’d had. The reason he was struggling was because he wanted to taste Sam, wanted him to mark him inside and out. Sam however did not care for that at this moment and kept pulsing down Dean’s throat which flexed and spasmed around him dragging every last bit of release from him without any deliberate effort on Dean’s part.

“Fuck look at you nothing but a human flesh light for me, could just keep you tied to me like that. Would never need to rub one out in the morning anymore, could just let it go, would you like that good boy? Warm your master’s cock when we’re between hunts, suck me off while I eat dinner, perhaps even do it in public sometime, side of the road against the Impala, would be easy enough to pack the belt when we go on hunts?”

Sam loosened the belt a few notches and started corkscrewing his hips in and out of Dean just a few inches as he’d done earlier. Dean heaved breaths of air through his reopened nostrils, nodding along to every suggestion Sam made, needy whimpers was all his brain could cobble together right now and Sam knew it too.

“So beautiful for me, so good at this. Are you still good to go all the way handsome?”

“Yes Sammy all the way, only for you.”

He tightened the belt once more and kept Dean there breathless, helpless and desperately horny again despite having just come, he held fast through the moments when Dean struggled violently against him for real and even tried using his legs to pull away from him. Sam also kept him there when Dean pleadingly looked up at him and only let go when those beautiful green eyes rolled up in his head and he melted against Sam completely insensate.

When Dean woke he was no longer bound but wore his favorite oversized “borrowed” T-shirt from Sam’s dresser and a pair of soft pajama pants. He was also cleaned up, knowing full well that Sam would have wiped him down with the softest of washcloths and carefully dressed him in his favorite aftercare clothes.

“Welcome back handsome. How are you feeling?”

“No you weren’t too rough, I loved every second of it and the ending was absolute perfection. You didn’t hurt me and you gave me exactly what I asked for and more. How are you feeling?”

Dean knew full well how Sam felt after playing up the dominant alpha side he had in him, always worried he was being too harsh with Dean, too reckless, too demanding and too vocal. He would reassure Sam as many times as it took for him to believe it.

Also their aftercare routine was something they both couldn’t imagine living without, abound with soft touches, appreciative words and a delectable selection of treats and drinks to bring them back from the intense head space they often reached during a scene like this.

“Love you Sammy.”

“Love you right back back Dean.”

[parcequecestnotreprojeeeet]

Hello! It's Winter! I went back to the earlier years with this story. I hope everyone enjoys it.

Early

It had been a week - one excruciatingly long week - since he saw his girlfriend. 168 hours since he kissed her body and been inside her. A glance at his watch indicated he was only 2 hours away from holding her again. He caught the train on time, took a quick nap onboard, and now found himself bounding the stairs to her house. 

“Brigitte! I’m here!” Emmanuel announced as he walked in and removed his shoes at the door. 

A few seconds had passed before he called her name again. “Brigitte!?”

If the front door hadn’t been unlocked, he would have assumed no one was home. “Brigitte? Dearest, are you here?” 

“Yeah, I’m here.” She finally made herself seen in a white, oversized sweatshirt and pink fuzzy slippers. Her long, blonde hair was thrown up in a messy bun and she wore not a dab of makeup on her freshly washed face. It wasn’t the sexy attire Emmanuel hoped his girlfriend would greet him in, but nonetheless, his heart raced when he saw her.  

“Are you okay?” He asked, throwing his duffel bag on the floor between them. 

“I’m fine.” She answered, irritated. 

He wondered if he had done something wrong to receive such a cold, heartless welcome. After a week of being apart, the Brigitte he knew & loved would wrap her long legs around his waist, frantically kiss him all over, and refuse to separate until they were both satisfied. 

“Chérie, are you mad at me?” Emmanuel held out his hand, desperately craving her touch. “This is not the greeting I deserve.” 

“Were you expecting me to bow at your feet and roll out the red carpet? Or did you want me to get down on my knees right away?” Brigitte replied sarcastically, rolling her eyes. 

Choosing to ignore his girlfriend’s rude comment, Emmanuel brushed past her to the kitchen. 

He briefly considered leaving, but that wouldn’t be fair. He waited an entire week to see her, and he didn’t care if she was being disrespectful, he would make the most out of their weekend. 

After putting his empty glass of water in the sink, he decided to wash the train smell off his body. 

“I’ll be out in 10 minutes,” Emmanuel yelled, turning on the hot water in the shower. After receiving no acknowledgement, he locked the bathroom door. 

Stepping out into the hallway, he was met with darkness and complete silence. 

“Brigitte?” He searched the house, quietly whispering her name as he entered each room. The last place he checked was the bedroom, finally finding her asleep wearing only his t-shirt. Stripping off his boxers, he slipped into bed next to her. 

“Have you been watching me?” Emmanuel sensed he was being stared at as he opened his eyes. The sunlight beaming through the window indicated it was around 8 AM.

“You’re so handsome when you’re asleep. But you’re even sexier when you’re awake. Did you sleep well, my darling?” She asked, laying her head on his hairy chest. "I've been up for about an hour but I didn't have the heart to wake you."

Running his hand through her damp hair, he inhaled the fresh scent of vanilla soap. Things appeared to be back to normal but he still threaded carefully. 

“Are you feeling better this morning?” Emmanuel inquired, half expecting the beast from yesterday to unleash on him again. 

When their eyes met, she stared deep into his soul and smiled. “Yes, I’m sorry about last night.” 

“What happened? You were behaving like a different person. If I did something wrong, please tell me.” Emmanuel kissed her cheek. 

“I will not make excuses for my behaviour, but I was experiencing painful cramps when you showed up,” Brigitte confessed, looking away. “Accompanied by other things as well.” 

“Was it something you ate?” He asked innocently.

“I …. I .. My period started two hours before you arrived and my body reacted horribly.” When it came to feminine issues, Brigitte was honest and open with Emmanuel. They often joked that he knew her cycle better than she did. 

He hugged her tightly, “it arrived early? You weren’t expecting it until Monday.” 

(Case and Point) 

“For some reason, it’s off this month. But I’m sorry because you didn’t deserve the way I treated you. I was upset with my body for betraying me and ruining everything I had planned for our weekend. I miss you like crazy, crave your affection, and then this happens!” Brigitte cried out, cursing her bad luck.  

“What did you have planned for us?” Emmanuel asked. 

She blushed, “well, it mostly involved you and me being naked in this room.” 

He smirked and an evil grin spread across his face. “We can still do everything you had in mind.” 

“No, we can’t!” 

“Trust me, we can. I’m not going to let anything ruin our weekend together.”  Emmanuel kissed her hand, “I would do anything for you.” 

“Even this?” She raised her eyebrow suspiciously. 

“Whatever you feel comfortable with. I’m all in, Brigitte. But first, let me grab the nice, big piece of chocolate I saw on the kitchen counter last night. I was craving it, but I knew I would have gotten my arm bit if I took a piece.” Emmanuel laughed, leaping out of bed and slipping into his boxers. “Don’t move, chérie, I’ll be right back with your two favourite things.” 

“Ohh - and what might that be?” She giggled.

“Chocolate … and me.” 

Hellooo Winter! ❤️

Hahaha aren’t we all girls Brigitte? 🤭 Some months are definitely complicated! But poor Emmanuel thinking he had done something wrong, the sweet potato.

Chocolate is always a fantastic idea 😜

Thank you so much, Winter! ❤️❤️❤️

[simon-x-billy]

Simon x Billy

Year of the OTP: May

May Ch. 5: You look good. What happened?

May Prompt: Who Are You?

AN: I thought I’d already posted the May chapter?! Whoopsie. 🙊 Italy photos mine. Btw in case it was established too far back in the story for anybody but me to remember, the phrase ‘eye caterpillars’ = bushy eyebrows. 🐛 TW: Outdated references to hipsters. Use of bips. Irishisms. 2015. Picky eater. Fic rewrites. Utter lack of sex.

————/-/————

Masterlist || ao3 || Start: Jan || Prev: April || Next: June

————/-/————

May Chapter 5: You look good. What happened?

————/Billy/————

"You came!” I’ll admit I’m amazed to see Simon Lewis emerge from the depths of the Naples train station blinking at the full force of the Mediterranean sun. It was only just last night he decided to come back and here he appears before me less than 24 hours later. I pull the muppet in for some back-thumping. “What’d you do, y’madman? Drive straight to the airport?”

“Yeah, basically.” He’s grinning, and I can hear the giggle barely contained by his words. “Walked up and bought a ticket right there at the counter, just like in a movie. I am both a baller and a shot caller.”

Billy and the baller/shot-caller.

I can’t help but chortle. “Obviously.” Certo.

“It was iconic. Sexy. I am a sexy icon of bad-assery with balls and shots called. On two continents.” He holds up two fingers, unconsciously forming a symbol that could potentially be misconstrued in Italy. It definitely would be misconstrued back home. But no one’s paying us any mind.

“Look at your man now. Aren’t you just the sexiest Simon ever to have a bad ass.”

“I know, right?” He presents his fist. In a news announcer’s voice he announces, “We fist bump because we’re men, the moment calls for it, and the enthusiasm is infectious.”

“Em, Simon. I think you’re thinking out loud again.”

“Whatever. Don’t care. Too psyched to be here to berate myself for cringey habits.”

This fun Simon is a little different to the one I’ve been texting. He’s a bit more loquacious, this one. Less Hemingway and more, em, I dunno, Simon Lewis I suppose.

“And no more crying chibi Simon,” he declares, as if he needs to be very clear on this point. “I drowned him in the East River – purely figuratively, of course, but it does count. So he’s not along for the ride this time. He cannot steal my bad-ass thunder.”

I can’t help snorting, but before I can give him proper grief for his ass thunder, he stops me with his hand up. “No, no. Don’t bother. It’s true. I didn’t think that one through.”

Tossing his bags in the boot, I feel honor-bound to point out, “I never had you down as a murderer. Plot thickens.”

————/Simon/————

“So where to, mate?” Billy changes the subject to our more immediate, practical concerns.

“I don’t really care, as long as it’s not the hotel. I want to do something. Any thing will do, as long as we have to actively go do it.”

“Right,” he says.

“So where to, mate?” I ask in return.

“Sorrento. Nah-bip-bip-bip I’m not finished. The actual town of Sorrento — or at least the marina. That’s where dinner’ll be.”

“Aren’t you working?” I whip out my ol’ faithful suspicious-side-eye expression. Yeah it’s a predictable choice, but I’m suspicious, so I’m looking at him from the corner of my eye with suspicion. It’s how it’s done, how else am I supposed to do it?

“Nah, man. I took the night off. And anyway, pickin you up is a job all its own, innit,” he teases. He’s teasing.

“That’s all I am to you, a job, isn’t it.” I sniff back my hypothetical tears. “No, but seriously, thanks Billy. For the ride. And for taking the night off. Appreciate you, man.”

“Well, I figured you’re not likely to have a girl already. So it was safe to assume you’d be free for dinner. And I wanted to get you down to town. You can’t be eatin every meal at the hotel.”

“Don’t want to, anyway. I’m here to do it right this time,” I promise him.

Heaving a sigh of relief he says, “Thank Christ,” in the general skyward direction of God on high.

“Thanks, Billy.”

“Acourse, mate.”

“No really. Thanks, Billy.”

“For what?”

“For everything.”

————/-/————

“Oh look, he’s back. Where’d you go?” Billy asks me with amusement. He’s amused.

Eloquently, I inquire, “Huh?”

“You disappeared. You do that a lot, mate.”

“Don’t you need an amulet for that?”

“Funny.” Apparently it’s not.

“Y’know, if I could have worked hit points into the books, I totally would have. It just wasn’t the right tone.” I put on a dreamy voice. “Not all dreams come true, Lewis, not all.”

“What are you on about?”

“Books. I write,” I qualify, just to clear up any confusion.

He turns to look at me (taking far too long without his eyes on the road in my opinion). What, is he trying to decide if I look authorly? “That's great, man,” he says. “Where’d you post them?”

“Post them?” Um. “Oh, you mean putting the chapters up online?”

Billy nods. I’m forced to assume I don’t look authorly.

“What kind of stories do you write?” he asks as he skirts a delivery truck driving in reverse down the middle of the road. I decide that it’s best to pretend it’s not actually happening and stare at the view instead.

“Paranormal Urban Fantasy. Never Suburban Fantasy, though, just so you know,” I offer. “I leave that to the experts. Write what you know, you know?”

He chuckles. One of those real ones, despite my not even remotely deserving it. “Cool man,” he says. “Send me a link.”

“Um, ok.” I mean, he could just google me, but whatever.

————/-/————

“All right, mate?” he asks.

“Yeah! Of course!” I say brightly (maybe a little too brightly). I look around me at the bustling noon hour in the center of Sorrento with only the tiniest hint of hesitation. Because, really, it’s just the tiniest hint of a town. He doesn’t notice my case of nerves, thank God. I could not be more embarrassing.

Sorrento; Marina Grande is at bottom right

“All right, then,” he says with a nod, followed by an arching eye caterpillar. “But hear this, Simon. If you get gelato before I get back, that’s it man, we’re not friends.”

“Wow. That’s a little extreme, Billy. On the upside, does that mean we’re BFFs forever if I wait for you?”

“That’s redundant,” he points out.

“What?!” I fix the pointy fucker with my very best shocked-and-offended face, and clutch my figurative pearls. “I am not redundant and I never will be. How dare you.” (The groaning you’re emitting from your throat is ok with me. Really.)

“Ah, go on man, that’s two forevers. It’s excessive, innit. Are yeh really expectin me to serve two consecutive life sentences of best-best friend-friend?”

“Yeah, ok. I’m good with that. We’ll be BFFs forever twice. Like Outkast – forever-ever.” I’m sorry Ms. Jackson, I am for reals.

“I give up,” he says, rolling his eyes. Which offends me. Because I’m the eye-roller. He’s the head-shaker. And he’s stealing my gig.

“So that means I can go ahead and get gelato without you? I mean, you said you give up.”

“Fucksake, Simon, but you’re a pain in my arse.”

“You love it,” I grin at him. “What’s gelato?”

“Fucksake, Simon!” He repeats (redundantly!) and commences the head shaking.

“And how do I find it?” I continue, undaunted.

“All right, look,” he sighs. “The tourist shops are up thatta way. Walk round, buy some shit. Then be back here by half twelve, and wait for me gettin off the bus.”

“Bus? I thought you were parking the car.”

He looks as though he’d like to strangle me.

“No, seriously,” I assure him. “I thought you were just parking the car.” I shoot him a combo of the I’m-about-to-get-in-trouble puppy face, and the but-you-love-me-anyway puppy face. It’s all in the eyes. Make ‘em huge and glisten. Works on Ma every time.

But not on Billy, it turns out. Tough crowd. Instead, he just laughs and laughs. Which is actually quite a thing to behold. And whoa, he’s just walked over and I’m being wrapped up in an actual hug. Like, a real one. Right now.

“I’m glad you’re here, mate,” he says warmly. “It’s good to see yeh.”

I don’t remember the last time somebody really hugged me. Apart from Ma, obviously. Certo. I kinda want another one. But he’s back in the car and pulling the old Mercedes out into traffic.

OK, so…

I’ve got some alone time on my hands. I clap, all ready to go, but then I notice how weird I am and shove my hands in my pockets.

So I hang out on a park bench a bit and watch Billy get stuck in a traffic jam — while the drivers of two cars stop in the center of their respective lanes, for the express purpose of double kissing each others’ cheeks in greeting. I’ve just decided that I need to start an “Only In Italy” list. Which means I need a pad of paper and pencil. Don’t judge my medieval writing implements of choice.

————/-/————

The pencil and paper-finding mission takes over an hour, because I keep asking people for “llaves.” Which, it turns out, means keys. In Spanish. Dios mio, I suck at Italian.

I mean, can you blame me? I never bothered learning more, cuz I didn’t plan to come back anytime soon. Cuz, you know, painful. But then I realized I actually missed Italy. In all senses of the word, but most especially in the wistful, nostalgic sense of the word. And I guess that’s a pretty normal reaction when it comes to people thinking about their trips to Italy.

Plus, I actually know someone who lives here.

————/-/————

Ok, so I’m back where I’m supposed to wait for Billy.

I had hoped for an I heart Italy pen, but apparently that’s only a thing in the US. Here, it turns out they have taste.

And I still don’t know what gelato is. But at least now I do know how beautiful this town is. And how great the Italian people are. At trying not to laugh at you to spare your feelings.

While the entire city looks like burnished yellow gold when seen from a distance, up close there’s more variety. Like the chaotic good mix of blaringly bright tiled roofs. I’ve taken pictures of everything so I can practice my wistfully-nostalgic face again at a future date.

Chaotic good, no?

I’ve chosen a pretty cool spot for people-watching. Everywhere I look, life is happening there. Big, boisterous aliveness. It’s so weird. And also instantaneously addictive.

Ok, so:

Only In Italy

The sky turns lavender. I remember that from last time.

People park their cars at home and take a bus. (Ok, I suppose bridge and tunnel people do that, too. But the vibe is so much more ‘tiny Italian village’ here than in Brooklyn.)

There is only one road. The bus drives back and forth on the one road. For the entirety of this coastline, to get to any of the towns. No, seriously. I don’t think I’m adequately expressing this concept. (And my writer ego is taking a hit because of it.) From Naples (huge industrial port city) directly to Salerno (the next huge industrial port city wayyyyy down the coast), there is a big highway. But that highway doesn’t do shit for you if you want to see any of the seaside towns in-between. For every last one of the tiny towns lining the Bay of Naples, then down and around the whole Sorrentine Peninsula, and aaaall the way to the end of the Amalfi coastline, there is one road. One. Which means that anyone living in the town of, say, Sorrento, has one road – one road!!! – to get the fuck out of town. You either turn right, or you turn left. Your only way in, your only way out. That is nuts. Right? That’s nuts!

Locals have no problem with interrupting all traffic on that one road, by stopping their cars in the middle of their lane and getting out, just to double air kiss the oncoming driver who is now holding up traffic in the opposite direction. And no one (no one!!!) is offended by this. No one seems to realize they have a horn they can honk at precisely these moments. I am mentally horn-honking so hard rn.

Lines painted on the road are purely suggestions. Especially when there are cars idling in the middle of the road for cheek kissing purposes.

I don’t even know what to say about delivery trucks driving in reverse on the one road.

————/-/————

I look up from my Only In Italy list, startled by the squeal of the wheels on the bus trying to stop going round and round. And now I’m watching the bus disgorge a few tourists, a bunch of locals, and an Irishman.

You know, we really are an unlikely pair to form a friendship under unlikely circumstances. But I think I actually needed Billy in a way. I can be a pretty miopic guy, and Billy managed to pull me out of my tunnel vision, preoccupations, and woe-is-me’ing. And he’s done it more than once over the course of our acquaintance. All via text, which I find quite impressive. That is some potent friending.

I need to figure out how to thank him for that without making it weird. Cuz, I mean, things got pretty weird over the last several months, but neither of us is acting uncomfortable or hesitant now. He’s too laid back for that. There is one thing I can say without reservation: Billy Delaney is a good human being. A mensch, in other words.

I think I needed him in order to get over myself, and that is a bizarre thought.

“Look at the state of yeh. Writin away with your nose buried in a book, right where I left yeh. When you should be lookin about. Unbelievable you are, man.”

“My nose — which cannot write, by the way — is buried in a book precisely because I’ve been looking around. I’ve started an Only In Italy list. Submissions welcome.”

That earns me a Billy snort. Among the best snorts out there, actually, is a snort from Billy. How can he be so smooth yet still be such a dork? A dork who got lucky and grew into his – I surreptitiously look him up and down — well, his everything. Bastard.

And that’s not even why everybody loves him! He’s just a fuckin cool dude. Who likes people. And the whole Irish thing doesn’t hurt.

“So where to, man, where to?” he asks with a wide smile, interrupting my thoughts.

“I dunno. You’re the Italian. Let’s do Italian stuff. Like maybe get an overly caffeinated coffee beverage.”

“I am an Irishman, and you could be a tourist if you ever figure out how. You tourist first, and write about it after. Not during. How can you be so self-aware and so clueless?” Billy asks.

My breath catches in my heart. He thinks I’m self-aware?

“You think I’m self-aware?” I can tell I’ve got glistening eyes and they did it all on their own without prompting by my brain. I’d feel like king of the world if I was in Bushwick right now, and everyone within earshot heard him tell me I’m self-aware. And he doesn’t even know what kind of cred he’s just awarded me. “Thanks,” I hiccup.

“Why’re yeh lookin at me with love heart eyes? I just insulted you,” he asserts.

“Did you?”

“Called you clueless, didn’t I.”

Big, breathy sigh. “Didn’t notice. Don’t care. Can I hold your hand right now? We can go have a nice, romantic stroll thru the Italians. You can show me this gelato I’ve heard so much about.” I flutter my eyelashes, and take his hand in both of mine.

“Get off, you muppet,” he laughs, as he tries to extract his hand from my strong and persistent hand-holding.

Not sure if I’ve mentioned it, but a laughing Billy Delaney is something to see. His whole face splits into the widest grin and it lingers long after the laughing’s stopped.

“Oh my god, they are so hot together.” It’s a young woman’s voice coming from somewhere close by. “Oh my god, look at them.”

We both must share a brain because we both swivel to see who the hot people are. I mean, it’s the Medi/Tyrrhenian. It’s an innately sexy place, and people are just kinda generally super-hot here, and remarkably comfortable with being almost uncomfortably sexy.

“So unfair,” moans her friend. I agree completely.

Not finding the hotness they’re referring to, Billy and I both discreetly turn toward the shops to see who’s talking.

“Do you think we can turn them?” another female voice asks. They both dissolve into giggles.

I’m not spotting them. “Can you tell who-”

Billy says under his breath, “By the lemons.”

Guest starring: Two fangirls and lemons the size of your head.

As he and I both lock eyes with the girls, they spin into each other and start giggling as they stare at their phones comparing their stolen shots.

Billy’s caterpillars try to meet in the middle. “Aren’t they a little young to be lookin at us like-” he begins.

“Oh my god!” I stand bolt upright. “That’s where the gelato comes from!!! Billy. Billy, can we please, Billy? I will embarrass you if you don’t stand up immediately and show me which thing I should be pointing at when I ask for it.”

“How do you plan to embarrass me? What, you’ll start jumping up and down while clapping?” he challenges me.

In all seriousness I turn to him. “I’ve done it before. I’ll do it again.” I give him an arched caterpillar of my own, attempting intimidation-and-impending-threat face.

The two girls are squealing to each other, hiding behind their hair.

“To the gelato man!” I point boldly and decisively. “Let’s do this.”

Billy’s caterpillars are trying for a second kiss, as he rises slowly. He’s distracted.

“Why are you not running at the gelato man with me?” I hold my hand out to him. His caterpillars have graduated to blatant frowning at the girls after another particularly sonic squeal.

“Come on, Billy. That’s got to be too young for you,” I tease. “I hope.”

“How could you even suggest-” Ladies and gents, I give you horrified-face, Billy Delaney style. I give him a playful push to reassure him I’m just teasing, and that snaps him out of whatever bizarro universe he was temporarily trapped in.

His eyes snap up to see me laughing at his surprised, blinking eyes. “Come on, sweetheart, buy me a gelato. Honey, you promised.”

Head shaking follows, of course. Certo. As we approach the stall, he keeps sneaking glances between the girls and me. “What the fuck, Simon?” he whispers, while surreptitiously watching them over my shoulder.

We’ve reached the gelato man. Billy offers to order. “What kind?”

“The biggest kind,” I shrug. He snorts and turns to the gelato man. I decide to put the girls out of their misery while Billy is focused on purchasing whatever it is.

“Oh my god, it’s him! It’s really him!” one of the girls hisses, then they look away quickly as their cheeks turn strawberry in mortification.

“Excuse me, um, sir?” the blonde girl squeaks, while progressing from strawberry straight to raspberry. It’s always endearing. I can’t help it. I know what it is to belong to a fandom. Like, being the fan, so I get it.

“Hi,” I approach, and awkwardly raise my hand in greeting.

“It’s really you,” the brunette whispers.

“I can be only one. Y’know, cuz, like, Highlander? No? Ok. Well, hi. I’m-”

“Simon is Simon,” whispers the brunette.

“The one, and the same. Both of us.” I am so embarrassing right now. But they are equally horrified at themselves. So, its a party.

“Can we have a picture?” They turn their pleading puppy eyes on me.

I have to admit, “Your puppy eye game is strong, girls. Practice, grasshoppers. Keep at it, and one day maybe you’ll be pro level like me.” This gets them giggling again. But they’re relaxing the adrenaline a bit.

By the time Billy returns with his booty, the three of us are comparing which of the puppy eye shots should go on Instagram first. I’ve already made my preferences for #2 known, and I’m ready to disengage.

I look up. “It’s ice cream?” I stand and give the girls hugs again.

“Thanks, Simon! We love you so much,” they sigh. Then, looking down at their phones they charge into the street, nearly walking right into an old lady carrying a salami so long that it’s an obscene parody of itself.

“Tag me!” I shout after them.

Mental note: “Only in Italy #7. Old Lady with huge salami that she didn’t buy at Katz’s.” Instead, she’s clearly coming from a shop with “Salumeria” over the door. A frickin salami store. I love this place and never want to leave.

“The deli?” Billy asks, shocking the shit out of me.

“How do you know about Katz’s?! Send a salami to your boy in the army? I’ll have what she’s having?”

“You talk in your sleep, mate,” he replies, straightfaced.

“But- I mean. Cuz like, we’ve never-” I stutter. Great. I’m stuttering.

He’s laughing at me. Which I’m ok with.

“Ow!” he barks, after I slap him in the arm. “Is this how you treat all your dates? Just shush.”

My mouth snaps shut. I am just as surprised about it as he is.

“On your first night in Italy – now don’t interrupt, your last trip never happened – I am honored to introduce you to, nay, expose you to the most Only In Italy thing for your list. The ‘passeggiata.’”

“The what now? Passage otta?”

“Close enough. La passeggiata happens every single night, tourist season or not. Big city or tiny village. Before dinner, everyone en masse decides to go for a walk in town. A lazy, amblin sort of people-watchin activity. Everywhere, the whole country. Late afternoon before dusk you stop and buy a gelato and eat it slowly while the world walks by.

“Passage otta,” I like the sound of that. In Manhattan we call that Times Square at 5pm. But without neon green milk-based product melting down your fingers. But then again, in Times Square you never know. “What the hell neon green thing did you buy me?”

“The biggest one,” he answers, passing it over with a bunch of napkins.

“Why is it the color of Mike Wazowski?” I demand in horror.

“Who?”

“Mike Wazowski! Mike Wazowski! Mike Wazowski. A triple Mike Wazowski: Bucket list, check.”

“Simon.”

“Mike Wazowski. But more importantly, why is it neon green? Doesn’t that mean it’s poisonous? Neon green is nature’s helpful way of warning us about impending doom. Like, did you know one tree frog contains enough poison to kill ten men?” Thanks, BBC. “So where do we go?” I ask.

“Let’s sit a spell over there. Ideal spot, really. Great view down the cliff to the Marina Grande on that side, and the high street shops over here.”

“The tiny tiny baby automobiles are sooooooo cute.”

“I’m partial to the Vespas,” he asserts.

“I want a tiny adorable Vespa so hard right now. Can we get a Vespa, Billy, please?” I plead. “But no, really. What’s with the green ice cream?”

“Simon. It is not ice cream. Say that within range of an Italian and you’re looking at prison I won’t know how to rescue you from.” He points at the cup. “Pistachio. One of the most iconic flavors. And a favorite of mine. Which means that if you hate it, which you won’t do, but if you do, this is a flavor I like enough to eat ‘the biggest one.’”

“How thoughtful of you.”

“I’m a very thoughtful person,” he promises with a sly smirk, which I assume people find sexy. Cuz it kinda is.

I elbow him in the ribs and he giggles. Billy giggles? This is new information. It’s kinda musical, like an arpeggio up the scale. Now I’ve got do-re-mi-fa-so stuck in my head from Sound of Music. Gross.

But I like this, sitting here watching the passage of people as they make their nightly parade. This is why people live here. It’s that big, boisterous aliveness I was thinking about earlier.

“Only in Italy #8: People take walks, not for exercise or the subway.”

Billy Delaney sighs. It’s true. He just did. Then guess what he says next. “Fucksake this is romantic.”

“I know, right?” What, it is.

“First time out of the United States?” he asks.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I feel like maybe I need to be offended.

“It just seems like, you know,” and he waives his hand at me as if that’s all the explanation necessary.

“I’ve been to other countries.”

“Oh yeah? Did it require leaving the North American continent?”

“Shut up. And stop laughing, you asshole,” I grouch at him, because I have been overseas — just not alone, is all. “But you know what you can talk about? How awesome and totally not ice cream this stuff is. It’s so creeeeeamy, and so light, and fresh, and not heavy at all, but still creeeeeeamy. And the Mike Wazowki flavor is really intense.”

“See? What’d I tell yeh?”

“Not much at all, actually,” I observe. He rewards me with the bark of a laugh.

After a few minutes watching la passeggiata in companionable silence, Billy prompts, “One thing I’ve been meaning to ask yeh. You talk a lot about writing. What’s that about?”

“I just love it. Never gets old. Hope it never does. But I can’t really see myself writing more than five or maybe six, tops. Tops,” I assure him.

“Five or six what?”

“Books.” Are we participating in the same conversation? “I’m late with the fourth because the fans want one featuring way more Simon Lewis with way more love story. And that can only be the case because the author, Simon Lewis, wrote himself into the story in the first place. There’s a hashtag for it #SimonIsSimon.” I heave a sigh as if the pressures of the world are far too much for little ol’ me to handle. Actually, “They get really into the whole #SimonIsSimon thing. People get tattoos! I’ve seen it online! Insane.”

“Simon is Simon,” he pauses. “Isn’t that a band?”

I shrug. “Could be. I guess.” I should look that up.

“So,” I continue, even though I’m already sick of the sound of my own voice. (I secretly fear that I might actually be kinda boring.) “Other Simon is this fictitious shoegazing hipster vampire, who lives in a book. Me Simon, is the author. It helps that we are a lovable dork,” I gesture at all of me to prove my point. “And in a love triangle. Dude. I even have my own #teamsimon. Which is super cute. It is also super weird, being a fan favorite.” Especially at the cons.

Billy sits forward. “Hang on, hold up. There’s a fan favourite?”

“Several fan favorites. All the main characters have their Big Moments in the series. Now I have to just suck it up and come up with the right romantic destiny for Other Simon. Cuz right now, there are two girls crushing on him. It just took until book 4 before I’m finally willing to let that happen.”

“Is this online somewhere? Like a blog or something?”

My first instinct is that he must be ‘taking my piss,’ or something gross like that, so I shoot him a glare. But now he looks so earnest that I feel like maybe we really aren’t in the same conversation.

I can feel my glare turning confused. My mother says this expression makes me look like I’m sucking lemons and don’t know why. She calls it Confused Sourpuss. I have yet to come up with a polite, respectful way to say, “Shut up, Ma.”

“Online? Well, yeah. I mean- There’s the fan wiki. But honestly, I’d just recommend starting with the blurbs on my website if you want to decide if it’s worth your time.”

Apparently Confused Sourpuss is not conducive to conversation. He stretches, and stands, then bumps my shoulder. “Come on, mate, let’s get outta here. Day’s marchin on, and you haven’t been down to the marina, yet. La passeggiata happens down there, too.”

————/-/————

No. I’m not afraid of heights. No, really. I’m not!

It’s more like I’m afraid of stairs. Especially stairs like these.

The Hell Stairs. Simon is overreacting.

Billy’s way ahead of me, because of course he is. Just trotting down them, every switchback. Meanwhile, I’m pretending I’m actually trotting when really I’m clinging to medieval stone walls rising vertically like the face of a cliff.

Sure, there are handrails. To keep you alive and all, but just like, one continuous wobbly pipe to hold onto all the way down. And there are at least 100 switchbacks. At least.

I guess it’s a tourist thing. “You have to take the stairs - at least do it once,” he said. “And it’s the fastest route down to the marina.”

He said “marina,” and I pictured lazily strolling around, some restaurants, some shops, stop a couple times for too much caffeine. “Good sunset, too,” he promised. So I was all up for it, and now I’m breathing rapidly and sweating – for anxiety reasons, not physical exertion reasons.

It gets chillier the farther we descend.

This could actually be a really frickin cool setting for a scene with the vamps. Why climb the stairs when you can scale the old medieval walls, am I right?

Billy’s voice hits me, and I swear I almost jump out of my skin and die. And have an asthma attack. (Fuck Other Simon for not having asthma. Bastard.)

I have no idea what he’s just said, because the sound of his voice is bouncing unintelligibly off the walls.

Attempting not to be a Loud American is a major fail, because I’m shouting, “Buongiorno!” and, “Arrivaderci!” so I can listen to the echo ricochet. And it’s awesome how the faint sound of passing cars way below lends a sort of staticky background noise as it travels up the height.

Billy stops laughing at me and tries to muster the balls to shout. Irishmen. Feh. Sometimes it’s useful to be an American. Especially when absolute dickheadery is necessary. Good thing I’m here.

“Just shout something, already! We can pretend you’re American, if that makes you feel any better!” I shout down to him.

All I get is a thousand rebounding “What???”s in return.

When we finally get down to sea level and emerge from the Hell Stairs, we find our way over to the Marina Grande. I want to kiss the ground now that I’m back on it, but determine that it might cause some concern amongst passersby.

Billy looks grimly at me. “You, my friend, must prepare for some of the best seafood of your life. An orgasm on your tongue.”

Um, “Hey now. That’s a little too visual, thanks.”

“Just don’t go makin yourself sick with too much cappuccino.” He scratches at the five o’clock shadow on his chin, looking thoughtful. “Will it deter you if I threaten to get really mad at you if you ruin your appetite? Or are you more likely to get too much cappuccino just to spite me?”

I gasp. “You get me, Billy. You totally get me.” I wipe away my imaginary tears. “It’s so nice when someone totally understands me and everything about me. Come on, buddy. Bring it in,” I say with my arms outstretched for a hug.

He unceremoniously declines.

————/-/————

Billy knocks back the last of his cappuccino. I’m still only two sips into mine.

I feel like I might hate biscotti. They seem like a thing I would hate. Mine’s just staring at me from its plate, looking all rock-like, with pebbles of almonds and whatever greenish nuts get put in biscotti. Are you supposed to suck on them til they finally soften? Dunk ‘em? No thanks. I push them across the table at him.

“So what’s it like, trying to be an author?” he asks.

I’m kinda amazed that he’s remotely interested. But he still doesn’t seem to get it. “Um, I am.”

“You ‘am’ what?” he asks.

“An author. Like, a published one.” His caterpillars arch upward in a rather gratifying fashion. Even if that makes me an asshole, I’m still an asshole who just wants people to be impressed with how awesome I am at all times. Just because I’m not 15 anymore doesn’t mean I’m not 15 on the inside. Especially as I get older, but Other Simon stays the same age.

“What’s that like?”

“Um…” Now I kinda feel like I’d be dishonest if I let him continue to think in the wrong scale. “Ok, so I’m just going to level with you. I don’t want to give you the wrong idea.”

“Nah, man, don’t worry about it. I’m sure you’re really good.” He’s looking at me with fondness and with pity. That’s a pretty advanced level facial expression. And it’s infuriating.

“Billy? Don’t try to be nice, just shoosh.” Am I a terrible person for enjoying watching his trap swing shut?

“I am the author of three novels so far, in an open-ended supernatural urban fantasy series.”

“Hang on, hold up. How old are you?! You can’t be old enough to have written three whole novels.”

“Started writing the first one when I was 15.”

“Oh, right? That’s great man, really ambitious for a kid to have a big dream like that. And you’re still at it?”

“Billy, I swear to God. If you don’t stop prematurely trying to make me feel better I’m going to kick you in the shin. So yeah. Three books. That have been published. In roughly 30 languages.” I’m not really a fame whore, but I have to admit to enjoying watching his eyes bulge, his mouth purse, and his face turn pink. Now it has turned thoughtful.

“Did you- Wait. Did you write The Shadow Instruments?”

I grimace.

“My cousin loves those books! Has done since she was 15,” he declares.

“Sounds about right. I’ll sign a copy if you think she’d like that.” Then it hits me. “Ugh, I sound like such an asshole.” My red forehead feels cool against the marble table top where we’ve stopped to enjoy one of those overly caffeinated beverages they invented here.

He’s been silent a little too long.

Oh. That’s why. He’s googling me. I want to die. I’m leaving everything to my sister. My forehead returns to the table top. It’s less embarrassing there.

“Fuck me,” he says.

“No thanks,” I mumble. “We’ve only just met.”

“That’s not true,” he says absentmindedly, his attention still 99% focused on what he’s reading.

“It’s called artistic license. And you’ve only just met the new and improved Simon Lewis. Crying chibi Simon Lewis drowned the other day. Memorial donations go to the charity of your choice.”

“Huh?” Then he goes silent.

“There’s something fundamentally wrong with you being quiet. It’s unnatural. I don’t trust it.”

“Just thinking, that’s all,” he answers.

“You’re thinking thoughts. Great.”

“Do you narrate everything in your head? The way you talk it sounds like you’ve got a running commentary goin on up there. At all times.”

“Accurate.”

“Is that what makes you a good author?”

“Who says I’m a good author?”

“My formerly 15 year old cousin,” he says with a smirk. He’s smirking. Great.

“She would know,” I say, nodding. “Everybody loved the thought of a 15 year old writing about young people his own age. ‘Such an original voice,’ they said. ‘A breath of fresh air in a genre full of middle-aged women writing for tweens,’ they said. Nevermind that YA is not for tweens. They’d know that if they bothered to read one. My characters are underage killers! Of people and things! And when they get older, I’m going to make them swear. And maybe there’ll be sex scenes. I’ve been researching.”

“You had to do research for the sex scenes?” He looks disbelieving and confused. It’s very squinty.

“Well, they’re sorta…I dunno…I mean- cuz there’s kinda, like, these two boy-” Yeah, and that requires some research.

He’s not even listening. He’s back to googling. When he finally looks up again he says, “I’ll take that signed copy.”

————/Billy/————

The sound of doors openin makes me glance up at the cafe, and there is a proper stunner driftin out like an apparition. Actually, I see her more as a Mata Hari, in all her floatin, gauzy scarves she’s wearin as a cover up for her bikini. And they’re not doin a damn thing to cover her up. She looks Italian, all tanned olive skin and dark hair, but there’s just something different to her. In her manner maybe.

Her fingers are flashing big bits of rock, her eyes are hidden by absurdly oversized black sunglasses with a logo I’m supposed to recognize, and she’s sportin a huge black hat with a brim so wide, it’s a miracle she’s got a tan at all. If I could guess, she’s off one of them yachts out there in the deep waters beyond the marina.

And she’s makin straight for me. Hmmmm. What can I say? It happens.

“Simon Lewis,” she purrs.

Oh. Right.

“Sabina,” he answers drily. I must say I’m surprised. Seems Simon’s got some game.

He stands and they air kiss each other on both cheeks. “Now,” he says, gesturing outward as if he’s indicating all of Italy, “I get why you’re always kissing everybody.”

So she looks Italian, kisses like an Italian, but doesn’t sound at all Italian. It’s a weird accent I can’t quite identify. And I’ve a pretty good ear.

“Why are you in Italy?” she asks.

“Why are you?” Game on, Simon!

“Oh, you know how it always is,” she sighs in boredom. “I’ve got a couple gigs here and there.”

“On the Amalfi Coast?” he asks.

“Oh, you know,” she trails her fingertips along our table, “some people, some parties, Capri, Naples.”

I stand and pull out a chair, finally remembering my manners. “Will yeh join us?”

The way she pulls her sunglasses down her nose and scans me from top to toes, I’ve never felt so much like man meat — at least never with my clothes still on. “Hello,” she says. “Haven’t you got good eyes. And a good face. And-“

“Sabina, this is my BFF forever, Billy Delaney. He’s Irish,” Simon qualifies, as if that explains something. What’s that supposed to mean?

I hold out my hand, but she’s already turned all her attention back to Simon, giving him the same up and down appraisal as she’s done me. “You look good, Simon. What happened?” she asks.

I don’t think I’m takin much of a likin to her. Her compliments sound a mite like insults.

“Nevermind,” she cuts him off. “No time, they’re waiting,” she says, gesturing toward the marina. “You should come to my show this weekend in Naples,” she says, taking Simon’s new notebook and writing something inside.

“Is there a venue the right size for you guys?”

“No no. Not with the band. It’s just a tiny little gig I’ve got spinning at an underground club no one is supposed to know about. You know the ones. Come.”

“Maybe,” he says blandly. Stone Cold Simon Lewis, ladies and gents. Who knew?

Her eyes bounce back and forth between Simon and me. “Billy,” she says, dismissively. I don’t think a girl has ever spoken to me like that in my life. Before I can speak, she’s turning to Simon and kissing him full on the mouth. “Ciao, Simon,” she purrs again. Then she floats off in a swirl of gauze that barely covers her assets.

I don’t think I’ll be missin her company overmuch. And yet, as a consummate wingman I still find myself asking, “Why didn’t yeh get her number?”

“Oh, I already got her number,” he says. “And she already shot me down.”

————/Simon/————

Just a short walk beyond the marina, the restaurant is on the water. Literally. I can hear the sea sloshing peacefully against the foundations at our feet.

They’ve seated us at a table against a wall of windows that runs the entire length of the restaurant. Even if the food isn’t orgasmic the way Billy promised, I could sit here for hours just looking.

Billy sees the rapt expression on my face, and says quietly, “Just wait til you see the sunset.”

And suddenly we’re ordering. Billy has chosen some really unappealing stuff. But for me he immediately orders a lobster, and smiles to himself as if he knows something I don’t. Which is likely how to speak Italian. Or how to cook.

While we’re waiting on our Neapolitan style sardines (which I am really not looking forward to), Billy asks, “You wrote yourself into the book and y’didn’t let yourself get the girl? What’s the point, if you don’t win in the end?” He’s looking at me as though he’s never seen me before, or at least has never mistaken me for an amoeba before.

“Oh, we won in the end.” Pfft, did we. “Yes. Yes, we did. I am very proud of our having won that war, by the way. It was close, til Other Simon mans the fuck up. Vamps the fuck up, really. And oh my God does he. Big displays of courage. And facial tattoos. But whatever.”

“Right. Now stop speaking in inside references and get on with it, man.”

“Dude, don’t ask the impossible. I was born a hipster. You can’t just unhipster at the drop of a hat. Seriously, it’s a lifestyle.”

And yes, fictitious audience in my head, you might be shocked and dismayed to discover that hipsters actually do refer to themselves as hipsters. Out loud. Without irony.

“So yeah,” I continue. “We won in the end. And I kinda sorta got the girl. The wrong one. For like 5 seconds.”

The waiter appears with olives, bread for dipping in very expensive oil virginally pressed from local olives, and the Pinot Grigio Billy requested. He didn’t just choose the wine. He selected it. From roughly page nine in the wine portfolio. They didn’t call it a portfolio, but I feel like they should have. Sounds vaguely Italian and schmancier than ‘wine list.’ The waiter assures us that the sardines will be ready shortly.

————/-/————

Oh my god I can’t eat them, they have eyes. And tails, and everything in-between. And they’re way bigger than the tiny ones in tins they stick on Caesar salad back home. They’re, like, actual fish-sized, if a little smaller than the usual dinner fish. And there are like twelve of them. WTF?

“They’ve been gutted,” Billy says, seeing my horror. As if that’s reassuring. “And the bones are tiny — they just add a little crunch.”

“Ew, gross!”

He’s laughing at me. “Simon. When in Italy…”

“When in Italy you eat fish whole? I’m going home.”

“Pull it off the bone. It’s delicate, so it’ll be easy. Like me to do it?”

“Yes, please. Then you should eat it.”

Billy sighs, and along comes my old friend, the shaking head. I roll my eyes quietly to myself.

He’s whisked away my plate and started a very careful, not at all easy-looking minor surgery on a small fish. For my benefit. “Thanks,” I say warily, when he hands it to me. I try pushing it around my plate to make it look like I’m eating it. “Yum,” I say.

“Simon, just stick the little grubber in your mouth.”

“And that’s supposed to make me want to eat this stuff? What’s a grubber?!”

“Simon.”

“Billy.”

“Please?” he says. “For me?”

Oh my god, does that work on people? Yes, because it works on me.

“Wow. It’s actually good.” And now that I’ve tried it, for him, I stop trying it. Because I’m no less grossed out, just cuz it tastes good.

Unfortunately, there is still the meat of ten sardines still left sitting on the plate. Not my problem, “I’ll just enjoy my Pinot Grigio. Holy shit is it good.”

Oh no. The waiter is heading this way with a very concerned look on his face.

“You are not liking the dish?” …of fish, I want to end the sentence for him like Dr. Seuss. But “merp” comes out instead.

“No, no Tomaso,” says Billy. “It’s lovely. He’s just American.”

“Hey!” I shout at him in my head. In real life, I nod in agreement.

“Ah. Si si si, certo,” says Tomaso, as if that explains everything. Which it kinda does. “Soon I bring to you il piatto secondo,” he assures me.

“But that’s not what I ordered,” I whisper to Billy when Tomaso walks away.

Billy’s eyes crinkle in amusement. “Second plate, that’s all, mate. Main course.”

My lobster arrives. Now this I know how to take apart and still want to eat it afterwards.

Guest starring: Mini fish and lobster. The sardines were awesome, btw. But there was freaking out about the ‘whole fish’ thing.

“Aw! They don’t debone the mini fish, but they’ll split the lobster? It’s the one thing I know how to eat with my hands, and they take that joy away from me? That is so not normal.”

Billy’s laughing. It’s a good sound. Makes me happy that he kinda seems to get me. And my humor. And he gets how to take me — with like a whole bunch of salt thrown over one’s shoulder.

“Respect the chef,” Billy says, raising his glass. “And to Poseidon, who gave us these frutti di mare. Fruits of the sea.”

We’re toasting-slash-praying to Poseidon now?

I pose the question, “Did you know that chicken of the sea is actually a fish?”

“Em…… Right, so it’s wise to toast Poseidon, mate. He has much power on this coastline. Ancient rocks full of Greek magic.”

But all rocks are ancient. Whatever. “Ok,” I raise my glass. “To the sea god. Also, are you like a closet mythological sea god fetishist?”

“Shut up and take a bite,” he commands. Frickin commands! I shiver.

I decide to play along and follow his command. “Oh my-“

“Stop there!”

Rude.

“Like wine, the very first taste is your first exposure to how the entire dish should taste at its very best.” Ohmygod he is so pretentious right now and I am loving it. “And with each bite, your mouth grows a little more accustomed to one or another part of the larger flavor, so that first bite is the fullness of what the chef intended you to experience. What do you taste?” he asks.

“Oh my god, Billy. Stage fright much? How am I supposed to follow that?”

“Simple question. What does it taste like?”

“Tomato…..that tastes really bright. Like sunshiney. Is that weird?

“That’s perfect. Keep going,” he encourages.

“But it’s not, like, tangy at all. It’s….velvety?”

He nods, “On the tongue.” It’s just a statement of fact, not sexy.

“And kinda more like a gravy. No, that’s totally wrong, cuz it’s not at all a gravy, but it is. I guess it’s rich. How can these tiny little tomatoes taste sunshiny and like gravy velvet.” I groan, “Why am I like this?”

“Nah, man. You’re just doin it right. What do you see on your plate?”

“There’s lobster. That’s part of the flavor, too, but not the loudest part. The silky sauce clings to every surface of the noodles. And these noodles are almost obscene. Who sells noodles like this?”

“Pasta, mate. And nobody sells it. The make it. Just saving you from unintentionally speaking inflaming remarks near a chef.”

“Thank you,” I nod. “It’s like you know me. Also, is it weird that I might have gotten a stiffie during all the food talk? Or maybe it’s the food itself….that you won’t let me eat.”

“Go on, man, go on,” he waves.

“Now you’re like, beckoning me to eat. Stop that. My dick is confused.”

Billy just says, “What did I tell you, mate? Next bite is the orgasm. You’ve already done the foreplay.”

“Stop it!”

He does. But, “You’re still smirking, so it’s like you’re still talking food porn.” Down, dick! Bad boy. Sit.

“Nah, man. You were the one talkin pornographic descriptions.”

“Oh, good,” I sigh a breath of relief. “So it was me that gave me wood, and not you. I’m less confused now.”

“It was four ingredients givin you a horn, man. Four total. What is visible on the plate and the oil in the pan at the start.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Apologies, Poseidon.

“Welcome to campania, the fertile, bountiful, fruitful.”

“Now my dick is confused by you being so over the top. Stop.” I take another bite and just roll the pasta around in my mouth. On my sophisticated palate. “I’ve died and gone to heaven.” I jump. “No! Wait. I’ve dined and gone to heaven.”

Billy is groaning loudly, but not in an appealing, sexy way. More like a way reflecting his complete disbelief at the quality of my punmanship. He’s heaving a sigh, as if I’ve pained his brain and sprained his sterling image of me. Nah, he knows me well enough to lack illusions about the varying quality of my puns.

“Lord, Simon.”

“I like the sound of that.”

Billy snarfs wine out his nose. Which makes me feel both good and sorry for him. “FUCK, not again!!!” he moans, holding his napkin to his face, and rocking back and forth in his chair.

“Again?” I have to know.

“Red wine is not quite as bad as vodka.”

I pull back sharply and hiss in sympathy.

Who hisses in sympathy?! Kill me now. Someone. Please.

“Where was this vodka incident?” I have to know.

“In a minute. First, put some food in yer mouth,” Billy directs me.

“Yes, sir!” I wink at him. But then I’m back to the potential for an orgasm on my tongue. “Oh, my god. What the- How- How is it even better than my short term memory of it?” The food has rendered me incoherent. God, I hate it when other people are totally right. It’s a character flaw. Whatever. “I just want to roll it around on my tongue for the rest of time.”

“Have yeh tried that line with a girl?”

Oh my god, I think I’m blushing. He just made me blush! How old am I? “Pishhh,” is the entirety of my answer, because sometimes Yiddish speaks louder than words.

“Don’t be embarrassed, mate. An orgasm on yer tongue, yeah?”

“Oh my god,” is how brilliant at speaking I am right now. “Yes, I can feel my panties getting wet as we speak. Oh! And I’d like to bathe in this. Do you think they could arrange that? I’ve always wanted to bathe in pasta. And being that this is the best pasta on earth, I really do deserve the very best bathing experience, too.”

“Stop while you’re ahead, Simon.”

“Ouch! And yeah, baby. Come to daddy. You beautiful lobster, you.” I am not flying my fork around like an airplane at a fine dining establishment. But I did consider it. “Y’know it’s funny. It never occurred to me that there might be lobsters outside of Maine.”

Billy slumps (theatrically, I might add), then empties the rest of the bottle of wine into his glass.

————/Billy/————

“You cold?” Simon asks, then tosses the shirt he’s had tied round his waist at me. “You shivered.”

I must not have heard whatever he said next, cuz Simon is asking. “What?” And his eye caterpillars are creased together. Now he’s laughing. “You should see your face!” It’s said with humor, but I must have flinched. The smile has begun a decided slide as if gravity had something to do with it.

“Thanks, mate,” I manage, trying not to show how much that simple observation has affected me. Nobody ever notices stuff like that with me. Or actually pays attention after they ask how I am. I’m used to it. But here comes this lunatic in front of me, and he bothers to notice that I’m cold. I don’t know what to do with it. I am at a loss.

“Sure, whatever.” He leads us through the door and back to the street.

“Wait.” He’s stopped in his tracks. “We’re not going back up the hell stairs. No fucking way.”

I raise my hands and shrug, because yeah, “That was the plan.”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me. No fucking way.” He makes me watch him put his foot down.

“What, man, are you scared?”

“Yes!” he splutters.

“Don’t want to break a sweat? Or worried about a fall to yer death?”

“No and yes, in order. Asshole! And here I thought you were this big-hearted guy, but you’re just a tall, handsome, Irish, Mean Girl. I thought you were better than that, Billy.”

“I’m still stuck in the beginning part where you think I’m handsome?”

Simon gives me a dramatic shocked-horrified look.

Now this is the part where I start wondering again… “Theatre school, Simon. Admit it.”

“Dammit! You asshole,” he says, raising a finger to make his point.

“What did I do?” I demand. “Yeh needn’t be very embarrassed about the theatre school. It’s only really just a wee bit embarrassing. Just a wee bit,” he reiterates.

“You wish you went to theatre school,” he sneers.

“And there it is, ladies and gentleladies, the truth. Theatre school.” I’m laughing, I mean Jaysus, what else am I supposed to do with that?

He rolls his eyes. “Imagine you at theatre school. You’d prolly get a movie like the first thing you tried out for. That face, Jesus. Sometimes I kind of hate you. I mean, not like, a lot. Just enough to thumb my nose at God and say, ‘He could be better, y’know, God. Somewhere is a flaw, I know it.’”

Now he’s eyeballing me. “Your turn to look for it, God. I need a break.”

Now Simon is turning to me with a discomfiting curiosity. “Have you ever been shot down? Like by a girl.”

I’m speechless. What the hell am I supposed to say to that? It’s not like he wants to hear the truth. “What the fuck, Simon. What’re yeh on about? What’s gotten into yeh, man?”

“You’re avoiding, redirecting. That means you’ve never been shot down, have you?”

The good thing about this idiocy is that we’ve reached the stairs, and he still hasn’t noticed.

“I’ll tell yeh this, mate. Your girl, Sabina – she had no eyes for me, man. If I’d have tried it on with her, she’d’ve definitely shot me down. It was rather an emasculatin feelin, all told. I hope to never repeat it.”

He’s smiling and keeps climbing.

Until, “And you asshole! For making me climb these fucking stairs!”

————/-/————

Masterlist || ao3 || Start: Jan || Prev: April || Next: June wip!

————/-/————

[fuckzachariah]

Ale sniffed his drink and screwed her nose, and Zach laughed, head tossed back in earnest. “Yeah, well, I used to only drink directly from liquor bottles, so take the wins when they come. An actual cocktail in an actual glass is leaps and bounds away from my past life.” His eyes sparkled slightly in silent allusion; that past life that wasn’t altogether past. The biggest part of it was standing right next to him, beautiful and inviting and so sexy it ached to even look at her. They gazed out at the crowd together, backs pushed up against the smooth wood of the bar, like a pride of lions to their pack. It was difficult not to feel power-drunk beside her. Nobody else made him feel bolstered like she did. She put him on the top of the world and let it spin and spin and spin.

Through the density of the crowd, the heady fog that blanketed them as they dwindled into their well-deserved stupors, he spied Kylie. She wasn’t looking for him, unconcerned and totally trusting of his whereabouts and indulgences. How far he had climbed. Or, how far he had fallen. It was hard to name it. She was, like Saturn, perfectly ringed by two definitive throngs. One of women, the next of men. It was unbelievable to think how ardently, and for how long, she had pursued him. In her way. She liked to play bold-faced now, but they both remembered how they had started; how quietly and endlessly she had waited for him, how she never wanted to push too far should he topple, or run. But men loved her. It was clear why. Only, she was so concerned with her rich inner world, with the women she decorated and weaved herself with, that they seldom occurred to her as what they were: vying. Zach was all she saw. But now, she had him. Or so she thought. He had become her norm, and she wasn’t worried about all the ways he could be breaking her heart at any given moment. What a shock it would be when he did. When he really did it.

His eyes slid to Alex as she continued her watchfulness, and she burned into his mind, every slip and swell of her body caught in a perfect light. His lip curled privately, wickedly. Ale laughed. He watched her drink, and shook his head; a certain acerbity lingered that he had never changed for her. It was both as true as it wasn’t. He changed because of her. He changed in spite of losing her, because in her wake he was left with no other choice. He changed because she showed him it was possible, convinced him it was worth it. Only, she'd never been there to see it, nor lavish in it. How he could dream of spoiling her now. Spoiling her until her teeth rotted with it, until she hated it. He understood the bitterness. He would hate it too. Zach’s skin prickled, the temptation to needle at her ever-strong. “Mm. She has me because of you. He has you because of me.” In layman's terms, it was the honest truth. “But I don’t know I’d call it tragic when the story isn’t even half over.” His elbow went out, jabbing softly into her side. A ripple went through him.

His eyes danced with the swill of her wrist, the soft lick of chocolate waves up the inside of her glass. “But that’s exactly what I did, Ale,” he mused softly, her name melting like candy on his tongue, something of a laugh tickling the underside of his tone. His eyes lifted under dipped brows to find hers. “And it’ll go number #1 all over the world. Just wait.” His gaze shifted to pass over the sea of bodies before them. How they danced unabashedly, how they melted and twined into one another. She may have taken his drink, but its effects still swarmed urgently in him. “Look at them,” he chuckled darkly, contemplatively. They used to dance like that. Worse. Dirtier. Needier. His forearm, now unoccupied with his glass, fanned out by the elbow in her direction, and he deftly plucked her ring finger apart from the others. Slowly, he fingered the heavy jewel, the implications of it pinched between guitar-scarred pads. The corner of his mouth hooked upward. “You ever dance with him like that?” Still facing the crowd, he smirked, and it was evident in his voice. Almost mocking, everything a joke, and yet nothing at all really was. “Would Andy get nasty like that with you, in front of everybody?”

Zach handed over the glass without hesitation, catching Alex off guard. Compliance had never been his strong suit. Throughout the turbulent course of their on-again, off-again relationship, his defiance had been a constant. A knee-jerk rebellion against anyone who tried to control him. She understood, though. It wasn’t just stubbornness for the sake of it; it was a symptom of something deeper. He had spent nearly his entire life being managed, his choices dictated by others under the guise of what was best for his career as the world’s most recognizable pop star. She imagined that whenever he found the chance, he would push back, break the rules, defy expectations, indulge in his vices if only to reclaim some semblance of autonomy. Even if it came at the cost of his own well-being. Some of it was youth, some of it was unresolved wounds from his mother, and some of it was the result of years of substance use. But now, something was different. Over time, it seemed like he had put in the effort to change – to grow, to heal, to become someone capable of real love and stability. A worthy friend. A worthy partner. Too bad he hadn’t gotten there a moment sooner. Lifting the glass to her nose, Alex inhaled deeply, recoiling at the sharp, unmistakable burn of whiskey. Her nose scrunched in distaste as she fought back the urge to cough, the potent scent infiltrating her senses.

“What is it with men?” Alex mused, her voice smooth and teasing. “You hit 25, your frontal lobe finally finishes developing, and suddenly, your taste buds completely deteriorate.” She placed the half-finished glass back onto the bar with an exaggerated sigh. “You could have dessert in a glass, and yet you go for something that tastes like burnt tree bark. Make it make sense.” With a quiet sigh, she spun effortlessly on the heels of her platform shoes, the motion fluid and practiced. The small of her back arched subtly against the bar, her elbows propped up as she let her espresso martini dangle between her manicured fingers. She took in the scene before her, her gaze gliding over the crowd, watching as the night unraveled in the way these nights always did. Reckless and indulgent. By now, couples and non-couples alike had surrendered to the dim lighting and heady atmosphere, disappearing into each other’s arms, mouths, and necks. She scanned the room absentmindedly, only to realize she had completely lost track of Andrew. The table he had ventured toward was now abandoned, replaced by a dainty blonde straddling her partner’s lap, her hips moving in slow, deliberate rolls. His hands were tangled in her hair, fingers tightening possessively. Ale smirked. So this was the kind of fun Andrew had been talking about.

As Andrew climbed the ladder of success, their moments of spontaneity and irresponsible fun had faded into memory. She understood. He had an image to uphold, a reputation to protect. But that didn’t mean she didn’t miss it. Once, he had been willing to take risks, consequences be damned. Even his proposal had been impulsive, blurted out in the heat of the moment, hidden in a powder room that could have been interrupted at any second, by his mother, his siblings. But now? Now, everything was measured. Careful. Calculated. Always aware of watchful eyes and whispering mouths. Alex barely listened as Zach spoke, her gaze drifting toward him. Speaking of heat  there had been a time when nothing could keep them apart. Zach had just as much, if not more, to lose, but that had never stopped him from taking exactly what he wanted, when he wanted, no matter who was watching. Her eyes flickered to his lips, tracking the way they curved around each word. She blinked, then let out a quiet, almost knowing laugh at his suggestion.

“Sure. In some ways,” she murmured, lifting her glass to her lips. She took a slow sip, savoring the burn before adding, “We just learned it a bit too late, hm?” A wistful smile ghosted across her face before she turned her attention back to the lounge, watching as the night continued to unfold around them. “Now, other people get to reap the benefits of those hard-learned lessons. Tragic. But isn’t that always how it goes?” She cleared her through softly, swirling the liquor in her glass. “Someone should really write about our once love story,” she began, her tone edged with something between amusement and regret. “It’d be a best seller. Guaranteed.”

[chubbyreaderchan]

We Aren’t A Joke | Poly!Lost Boys x Plus Size! G/N Reader

Warnings: Fatshaming, self-hatred, touchy vampires, nothing else. They/them pronouns but can be read as any gender really, no editing,  

A/N: This might end up being its own little thing because there’s more I want to write but this just needed out of my head. I think I want to have blurbs with this reader and the boys and such. 

The boardwalk was practically empty. The holiday season had passed and the lull between Christmas and spring break was in full swing. David was in an almost trancelike state, staring at no one, in particular, his belly was warm and full from the hunt the night before. Truly, a night of relative quiet for the rowdy bikers.

David tossed his cigarette over the side of the pier into the water below, he opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by Paul.

“Holy shit,”

David looked at Paul and then in the direction he was staring, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. The cool wind picked up just then and he had to hold back an animalistic groan at the smell that washed over him.

Hell, he could practically feel all of his mates grumbling at the smell. David hadn’t realized he’d shut his crystal blue eyes until they fluttered back open to see what he knew was the next member of their little family.

He wanted them. He wanted them… now.

They hadn’t even looked at him and his boys, their plump little future mate was enticed by a table of trinkets. David couldn’t resist raking over their sexy body, taking in each soft curve and dip. Cute. Very cute. They were in a thick sweater, one much too big on them which was only slightly disappointing for David, hugely disappointing for Paul who was practically bouncing to get to them.

In fact, David watched as Paul bounded over like a golden retriever.

“Hey, sugar,” he said into their ear. “You all alone tonight?”

They backed up in surprise and glanced behind Paul at the other boys who were watching in love-sick awe. David could hear their heart race.

“I’m not interested,” they said quickly.

Paul looked like he was gut punched.

“Aw, come on babe. We can go for a ride. Get something to eat,” He almost sang out.

David had a feeling he should have been the first one to talk to their mate, not Paul. David and the other boys began to close in on the two.

“I just don’t want to be a part of… whatever this is… joke… dare…. Whatever.”

“Joke,” David seethed. “You think we’re a joke,”

They bit their lip. “Not necessarily you. I’m the butt of the joke here,”

Dwayne looked at them, thinking. He had a bad feeling about this whole situation, and he could feel the radiation of rage off of Marko. All of them would fight for any of their mates, but Marko was always the first to jump in. Swing fists and fangs and ask questions later.

“We just want to get to know you, sugar. You are just… irresistible,” Paul smiled. “At least tell us your name?”

Despite their better judgment and past experience in these situations, they gave in.

“I’m…(Y/n),” they said awkwardly. “And I don’t want to be part of the ‘dare the friend to ask out the fat person’ game,”

They were getting frustrated; they could feel their usual reaction starting to build. They could all feel it. David moved, pushing Paul back and running a leather-clad hand over their plush cheek. His blue eyes felt like they were reaching inside their soul.

“Sweetheart,” he said, leaning into their ear. “I promise we aren’t going to hurt you,”

His breath was cold, or perhaps the night chill got to them. They tucked their hands around their middle, trying to shield themselves from the cool Santa Carla wind.

“Come on, princex,” David encouraged.

He had them, he just needed to pull them in.

“I-I don’t even know you,” they said with a soft sigh.

They pulled back from David’s grasp, causing him to growl slightly. He didn’t like that. Not at all, even if it’s just from some silly human insecurity. They belonged to him and his boys, they were going to keep them if he had to drag them back to the cave by force.

“I’m Dwayne,” spoke the quietest. “That is David. Marko. And Paul. We promise we aren’t going to hurt you, princex,”

His words were so sincere. The way he looked at them made their heart flutter.

They sighed, defeated. Marko smiled approaching them and throwing an arm around them in whatever way he could reach. His fingers pressed into their soft flesh and he wanted to die at the softness. Hell, he would die for their softness, and he barely knew them.

“Dove, we are going to keep you safe,” the cherub said.

“I’m sorry, but how often do four very beautiful men come up to a fat person and really want to be around them… in any capacity? I don’t want to be abandoned in some parking lot in the middle of nowhere just because it’s funny to mess with ‘piggy’” they air quoted.

“The fuck?” Paul said loudly.

“Yeah, what the actual fuck. Who did that?” Marko was gripped onto them tighter, almost bruising the soft flesh.

David snaked his arm around them nudging a silently protesting Marko away. They began to walk, their human in the middle as they flanked them.

“Why don’t we go for a ride, kitten? I’ll prove that we want nothing but the best for you, sweetheart,” David promised. “You’ll ride with me,”

“Ride?” they were in front of four motorcycles that seemed to reflect each boy’s personality. “Oh, I’ve never--,”

A gentle pinch at their ribs caused them to squeak adorably, Marko walked around them with a smirk.

“Don’t worry, it’s fun.” The smallest of the group said.

He had a devilish grin that (Y/n) couldn’t help but find heart-meltingly cute. Without warning, David wrapped his arms around their middle, as if they had been dating for years and it was the most natural thing.

“I promise to keep you safe, just trust me,”

The scruff of his facial hair rubbed against their tender skin, and they could have sworn the bleach blonde took in a deep breath of their scent.

David mounted his bike and held out his hand to help them onto the back of his. Once on, he grabbed their hands and forced them to press directly against his back wrapping their arms firmly around his middle.

They just felt… right.

[thevestigeofvanillaan]

What's Your Name?

kai anderson x female reader part 1.

content: slight smut at the beginning, unprotected sex, pregnancy, no relationship, swearing, second person.

"Ugh!" You moan as this random sexy long blue haired man bounces you up and down in a standing fuck in the gym showers.

The two of you were bound to be seen, but hadn't cared. You were having vicious sex in the men's locker room at your gym with some random guy you'd probably never see again. What's so harmful in that?

Coming down from your highs with heavy breaths and he puts you down, you gathering your clothing and quickly putting it on. But you look back to the man who still stands in the shower, looking down at the mess on the floor from our many rounds.

He looks at you with a confused expression. "Hey, I'll clean this. You just go 'fore you get banned from this place for bein' in here."

"Thanks." Was the last thing you'd said to him.

The next two weeks and you'd basically forgotten about it all. Getting back to working at the bakery and your regular gym schedule, where you'd see that man and that'd be the only reminder of what the two of you had done.

Impeccable urges to do it again, the constant crave for him was getting worse and worse and you didn't know why.

Stomach pains started after about two and a half weeks. Disturbing stomach pains, that felt vulgar and made you have to puke.

Corner store, or the drug store, was your hope to find out what was wrong. Not only did you pick up a drug test but a pregnancy test too.

Paying for them wasn't going to happen. They were ten dollars a piece, nevermind the embarrassment of walking up there with both those tests. You'd look like a lunatic.

But, theft was easy for you, you'd always been good at it since your first time stealing chapstick when you were only five. It was something you were good at.

That, and black mailing people into buying you drugs when you were too young to buy them yourself.

Eleven, is how old you were the first time you'd asked a man outside of the drug store to buy you cigarettes.

"My papa's dyin' at home, he couldn't come himself. Please sir, just a pack?"

"Why isn't your mom gettin' em?" He'd ask.

"My mom is dead, sir. If my dad dies a slow painful death with no cigarettes, I'll hold you accountable, sir. Reasonable for my lonesomeness when I get put into the system with no parents left."

Mom and you were close, in fact. Your mother was not dead, and your dad was not sick. You just wanted cigarettes.

You were never a good kid, and you never wanted to be.

Leaving that store with the tests in your purse made you feel alive again. Like your younger self. Hating your younger self was easy until you felt that ecstasy she had felt, once again. You'd almost forgot what that felt like.

When the pregnancy test came out positive, you didn't know what to do. Along the fact that the only positive on your drug test was nicotine.

"Fuck!" You scream out and put your hands on your knees that are raised to your chest as you sit on your bed, beginning to cry.

Not knowing this man turned to having his child growing inside of you at the very moment.

"What do I do.." Thoughts did nothing to soothe your worries.

Your stomach was turning, and you had to vomit. You run to the bathroom and do so before looking at yourself in the mirror, touching your stomach.

"Fuck! You idiot!" You'd scream at yourself in the mirror and slam your hands on the sink in your bathroom.

..

The next day, you went to the gym. "Hey, where's that man? The one with the blue hair." You ask his trainer.

"He shouldn't be here for another twenty minutes ma'am. Why?" He responds.

Sighing and rubbing your temples, "I need to talk to him. In private so when he gets here can you please tell him to go to the locker room.?"

He nods with a concerned expression on his face and you walk off to the men's locker room, sitting on some bench. You stare at the positive test and your hands start to shake. You couldn't believe this was happening.

I mean, you hadn't even known the guy's name.

20 minutes felt like 20 hours while waiting for him to get there.

"What? You want round two or somethin'?" The man says with that smug expression. "If you are, I'm all for it, baby."

"What's your name?" You ask, standing up when he gets close enough to feel his hot breath hit your face.

His face morphs to be emotionless. "Kai. And you are..?"

"Y/n. Kai, we need to talk."

"About what?" Kai asks, placing his hands on his hips with a confused expression.

Taking the test out of your back pocket and handing it to him.

The silence as he holds it and stares at it is killing you.

"You're not doin' so much talkin' for someone who 'needs to talk to me'." He sighs and holds the test up to your face. "What's this mean, mama?"

Hands shaking, and you sit down, leading him to bring himself down to one knee to bring himself eye level with you.

Nothing to say came to mind. His calmness stunned you.

"Here's my full name, and my number. Please, call me so we can arrange a doctor's appointment." You hand Kai a piece of paper that says said information on it.

Watching him lick his lips as he looks at you, then he stands up.

Kai stares for a moment, before turning around and walking away without a word.

That was honestly less painful than you thought it'd be.

But, again, you didn't know who Kai even was. You just had his kid growing in you without having any idea what you're going to do.

[cordelianewman]

Your muscles feel like they are on fire? I don't know that that is normal and maybe you need to start taking it easier at work. Taking more of just that leader, do the bossing, less the work. I'm sure all the guys would totally be fine with that... You want to feel bonita? I will promise to tell you all the things later tonight. Isn't that the point of younger siblings because I know I am doing one hell of a job to make Jason feel old... so I think it's just on par for the sibling thing, let alone especially if they are younger sisters. Would it be the worst idea in the world? Team pool and hot tub because once you have one you may as well get the other a friend, it'll be lonely outside by itself, that's how I figure. Then we can have our own backyard shenanigans without potentially being disowned by your family, I really don't want to say that I've been disowned by two families, because at some point then I have the whole 'am I the drama' conversation with myself and it just won't be good. Though I also feel like your siblings will get us back and attempt to have their own moments in our hot tub or pool if we had one... like that's bound to happen. You have a pretty strong idea for this whole farming thing, are you going to have me at home churning apple butter at home while you tend to the apple orchard that is magically going to appear in Merrock? Would be nice you know see what happens if we go on a long drive during a potential rainstorm. Is it me or have we always have a thing for back dirt roads or something? Not complaining, it's hot, I enjoy it. Who knows what will happen, plus we both love the sound of the rain will only be more inviting. Absolutely not checking my phone for the weather forecast or anything. You are the only person in the world that could possibly find me sexy when I'm cranky. Absolutely the only one in the world, but I love that, and you. Ohhh, okay, yeah I think we can definitely go with that deal. Really it's a win-win in the end for everyone anyway. Still think you should have let me put the eyeliner on you, babe, you absolutely were missing out on half the emo fun. I mean I'm here in the white tank top, plaid mini skirt, fish net stockings, somehow managed to find and old school belt and did the whole eyeliner vibe because you can't not go full in. Next time I'm getting you with the eyeliner! For now I'm thinking a couple more shots?

Babe, it was a very long week at work, I am tired, my muscles feel like they're on fire, and you're going to deny me a little verbal TLC to make me feel better? I'm not even looking for an ego boost, I just want to feel beautiful, is that too much to ask? My younger siblings always make me feel old, I know Deacon and I were a little closer in age, but the girls were so young, I sometimes struggle to remember that they're not kids, they're adults, they have lives and careers and it's wild to me. The more we talk about my family disowning me for swimming pool shenanigans makes me wonder if you're trying to hint at getting a pool. I know we've talked about the hot tub before, but now I'm starting to wonder… I'll behave, though, it's not like we don't have plenty of other places to get handsy if we need to, so that's alright. Well, I can still be a gentleman farmer, it's just that my fantasy of getting you to wander the fields dressed in overalls and having romantic apple picking dates is kind of shot, so I guess there's that. Ho hum. Okay, okay, so what I'm hearing is that you want me to come pick you up the next time we're expecting a downpour and go on a really, really long, meandering ride through the countryside? Because I'll do it. If I remember correctly, good things happen when we pull over on the side of a dirt road. You're sexy when you're cranky, but also mildly terrifying, so we'll avoid it as much as we can. Which means we will keep you well fed and cooled off at all times. Thank you, I appreciate you. There aren't going to be any incidents, I promise. And if there are, then for any one piece that you deem ruined, I will replace it with two more, how does that sound? I -- I can, I promise you, I assure you that I can, look, I have… black jeans, and there's a hole in the knee, that's, isn't that emo? A-and plaid! I'm wearing plaid.