#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.

[slushycoookie]

Kinktober Day 11 ~ Bondage

Miguel O'Hara x Fem! Reader

Summary: Miguel needs to let out some frustrations due to work.

A/N: Dominant Miguel is back for a limited time only! Hope you all enjoy!

Prev *✧･ﾟ: Next Kinktober '24 Masterlist

“Can you believe we've been trying to catch this single anomaly for this entire week?”

Miguel’s ranting in your ear, his voice laced with stress from dealing with Spider Society.

“Has it really been a whole week?”

“Yes. And it’s like no one can do anything right around here.”

You hum, “Just give it time, love. Don't work yourself up over one person.”

Miguel growls through the phone, and you remain quiet to let him cool down. At least he wasn't throwing things around out of anger. He was resorting to other outlets to calm down, like calling you.

“I need you tonight.”

“Okay. You know I'm here.”

“No, I mean, I need you.”

“Oh.” Your back straightens up, and you try not to sound flustered throughout the call. “Okay.”

“Get ready for me.”

Once the call disconnected, you immediately got up. Eating dinner, taking a thorough shower, and slipping on something sexy that Miguel liked.

The first time you two started doing this, you recalled your heartbeat in your ears whenever you got nervous. Now, it was just a regular night—where your boyfriend took out his pent-up feelings on you.

Your stomach fluttered when Miguel came to your apartment. It was late. You two always did this late. Heavy footsteps filled the hall when he entered your room, seeing you waiting just like he asked.

Miguel’s breath hitched seeing your outfit. A sheer, red baby doll lingerie. How well it will compliment when you're bound to his webs.

“You know the drill.”

You turn around, hands behind your back. His webs keep them tied. As a test, you try to pull them to make sure they are tight enough, and with restraint, you are satisfied.

Miguel facing you now, cradling your chin and inspecting your face. Your full lashes and pretty lips. “Did I ever tell you how beautiful you are?”

“You said it to me this morning…”

He gives a soft chuckle before capturing your lips in a short kiss. One that, even though it was brief, left you wanting more, sending heat to your core.

“You know the safe word.”

You nod, and the simple pleasantries are over.

In a blink, you're on the ceiling. Webs sticking onto your back and ankles. Legs spread apart for your boyfriend. Miguel climbs up to the ceiling on all fours, doing his best not to damage the walls more than he already has. You were the prey, unable to move as the giant spider was ready to devour his meal.

Carefully he maneuvered over you, sniffing to take in your arousal. Miguel observes the way your breasts are pushed up against the lingerie. Your attire hardly left anything to the imagination, the fabric draping across you like a fairy.

“Muñeca bonita (Pretty doll)…”

He roughly kissed you, dominating your mouth and taking over anything that tried to escape your lips. His hot hands go under the sheer to feel your bare skin. Caressing your sides. His lips felt like fire, making an imprint on you as he kissed your neck and then the tops of your breasts, before licking between them as if he was starved.

You whined when Miguel pulled down the cups to your baby doll and latched on to your breasts—sucking on them while he grinds his erection right along your clothed sex. You wish your hands weren't tied so you could run your fingers across those gorgeous locks. Have a firm grip and pull on his hair the way he likes. The most you could do was moan and tell him how good it felt.

“Ohhh I like that…” You gasp when he latches on to your other breast. Cool air breezes against your sex, and you know you've become embarrassingly wet. Between the increased anticipation of waiting for your superhero boyfriend to get home and his actions, you were already ready for him.

With a talon, he tears your panties in half. Miguel’s dick is hard against your thigh as he cups your ass with his hand.

“You better hold still.”

“I will-ooh!”

He enters you swiftly, not even giving you room to adjust. Your body quivers as he’s fucking you, sliding in and out of your cunt with no issues. A palm on the fat of your thigh, talons peeking out and going against your skin.

God, you wished he would break the rules and let you out just once. So you could hold on to him as he makes love to you on the ceiling of your apartment. Probably disturb the next-door neighbors.

“Mm you're so good…” He grunts, burying his face in your neck, taking in your scent. “You listen to me. You don't talk back…”

You shake your head, tugging on your restraints as his cock is sliding along your walls. Miguel continues that same relentless pace as his balls smack against the curve of your ass.

“You'd do anything for me, won't you? Since I have you all tied up like this.”

“I will. Oh yeah I will…”

Your climax starts rising, and you try creating more friction by squeezing your thighs together. Miguel didn’t let you, breaking the restraints on your legs and spreading you wider, tying your ankles back down with his webbing. His pinch to your clit was the last straw, your entire body jolting against him and his webs.

Even as you orgasmed, Miguel held you down, working through your climax and building up to his. Eyes laser-focused on your chest jiggling during each thrust, your face dazed as you revel in bliss. His sounds of pleasure fill your ears.

“S-Shock, you're so-”

With a strangled groan, he came, muscles tense as he filled you up with cum. His thrusts are slower now as he kissed your forehead, fixing your lingerie as much as he could.

You nuzzled along his neck, covering it in small kisses.

“You feel better now?”

Miguel simply nods, “Thank you.”

Tags (let me know if you wanna be added/dropped):

@fandomfics @freythecrazyfae @maddyperezzzsstuff

@mynamesstevenwithav @eyes-ofhell @maxad99

@howlingco @cherrypieyourface @snails-doodles22

@siren-141 @nega-omega @sweetimpurity

@hehekittyhawk @spencerswh0r3 @saintdiior

@maliaofthevalley @wolverigrl @pigeonmama

@shybluebirdninja @tomie-it-girl @antishadow2021

@honey-and-olives @hyjionie

[kesujo]

Chapter 4 - Miss All-Night

Previous chapter here.

Having finished his transformation now for a week, Kang Seojun didn’t really feel particularly different. Although he could definitely feel the physical improvements at times, he didn’t really feel as different as he thought he would. So, as a way to experiment with the physical limitations of his body, Seojun conducted various experiments and discovered a newfound love for running.

Before, it felt like he could barely run a few hundred meters before starting to feel his relatively unathletic body start tiring out. But now, that feeling simply never came. No matter how much Seojun ran, that feeling of muscular fatigue or that squeezing tightness in his lungs and chest and the shortness of breath just never came. What replaced those feelings was the rush of wind on his skin, the blur of the surroundings, the pumping of his legs as his feet propelled him forward bounds of steps at a time. It was that great initial feeling of running, but prolonged for minutes, hours on end.

But that was about the extent of the changes Seojun felt; there was no aura of confidence that he had suddenly developed similar to the ones Taeyeon or Yeoreum had. Kang Seojun’s third encounter with a succubus just confirmed that the only changes in his body were physical when she landed right next to him as he was tending to the garden surrounding Taeyeon’s house.

“Oh, pretty!”

Seojun screamed in a way that was much too feminine to his liking, his body jumping a good few feet away from the demoness who was currently tucking her wings back into her body.

“Are you Taeyeon’s newest servant? Kang Seojun, right? Is Taeyeon home?”

“Y-Yeah, nice to meet you—Taeyeon said she wouldn’t be back until tomorrow morning…”

This was the third insanely beautiful woman he, in his previous life, would’ve never suspected would even talk to him, much less address by name. She stood about a good few centimeters taller than Taeyeon and, as sexy as Taeyeon was, this succubus was even more so. Maybe it was her considerably curvier body, the slim waist accentuating her bigger bust and wider hips, her legs striking the perfect balance between having substance and being slim. Maybe it was how fierce her eyes looked, or how luscious and plump her lips were, or how creamy her skin looked, or how unabashedly she showed off all of her assets, her shorts leaving miles of legs on full display and her top showing a good eyeful of cleavage.

The second sign that the transformation did little to change the way his brain worked was how quickly he felt a tightness in his pants just from looking at the brazenly, dangerously sexy succubus shooting him a sweet smile, a sharp contrast to her alluring appearance. “Ooh, it’s nice to meet you! My name is Tiffany; I heard really good things about you from Taeyeon.”

Seojun almost jumped when Tiffany confidently walked forward and gave him a quick hug. In that split second, his suspicions were confirmed when he felt her well-endowed bosom press quickly but firmly against his own chest through the light shirt he was wearing. Even the bubbly Yeoreum wasn’t this forward and friendly … something about Tiffany seemed a bit different than the other two he’s met. Her appearance, her actions, even her manner of speaking somewhat … what was it?

“You know, I want to taste this infamous delicacy of semen for myself.”

Seojun felt like he could’ve done a spit take if he had any water in his mouth.

Such straightforwardness was definitely not a typical South Korean attribute … that was it! Foreign was the right word. This difference Seojun noticed in Tiffany compared to the others was that Tiffany seemed a little foreign, Western especially. Maybe American—not that he really ever met an American face-to-face.

“May I?”

“Wha-What? Right here?”

Seojun was so taken by surprise that he couldn’t even think straight, blurting out the response before Tiffany’s giggle and reply made him realize how stupid his words were. “No, silly. We’ll go inside. Unless you’re into that kinda thing. I don’t mind.”

“Oh…” Seojun felt his face heat up in embarrassment. In that moment, how dumb he felt was beyond words. Of course, Tiffany meant—wait, what? She didn’t mind? As in, having sex outside, in the open? That idea … while horrifying in its own right, stirred inside him a deep kind of excitement, especially considering it with this spunky, overly friendly, aggressively sexual demoness.

“But, I mean, it’ll be more comfortable inside, on a bed, a few hours in.”

Seojun blinked a few times. “What? A few hours in?”

Tiffany laughed. “Yeah!” While she was still a few centimeters shorter than Seojun, the way she grabbed his hand and led him back inside exuded supreme confidence, similar to Taeyeon albeit with a bit more of a friendly energy. If Seojun were to describe the difference, Taeyeon gave off more of the ‘kind but stern mistress’ vibe whereas Tiffany gave off the ‘fun-loving fuck buddy’ vibe. “I hope you’re ready for a long night,” she said, having sped them right into his bedroom, throwing him onto the bed and straddling his waist with a demonic, seductive expression on her face, “because tonight, I’m not letting you sleep at all.”

Seojun’s brain had trouble processing the words, even as Tiffany threw her skimpy top off. He thought he understood one of the caveats of Taeyeon’s contract with him, that he agree to have sex with any of her succubus guests, and again thought he had a firmer grasp of it when Yeoreum came along and became the second woman he fucked. But being faced with Tiffany, who so brazenly arrived and threw herself onto him—or maybe it was more accurate to say that she threw him onto herself—made him realize that maybe he didn’t fully grasp just how lucky of a person he was.

But there was still one thing he was hung up on. “W-Wait—” Seojun finally found the strength to say those words as Tiffany was just about to rid him of his last article of clothing, herself already fully in the nude. The succubus stopped, her sharp gaze feeling like it pierced straight through his head and into his soul.

Tiffany seemed fully intent on following through with her last few words, meaning that she did a quick evaluation of him and determined she wanted him that badly? Taeyeon, on their first encounter, mentioned something about him ‘smelling’ delicious; maybe Tiffany could sense it too? Seojun tried not to let it get to his head, that all it took was a few seconds before one of the most strikingly beautiful and sexy women his eyes ever had the pleasure of landing on to become so thirsty for him that she wanted to go all night with him, but it was damn near impossible. Still… “U-Um, when Taeyeon tried to do something like this, I ended up passing out after not even an hour. I finished my transformation so it might not be as big of an issue, but the whole night, I’m not sure if I can last…”

Although it was a twinkling laughter that flowed from her lips, the fierceness of her gaze never diminished. It was quite amazing, really. “Oh, you don’t have to worry about that. I promise, you will.”

The words, spoken with such confidence and command, seemed so much like a directive to be obeyed rather than a spoken statement of faith that Seojun felt he had no choice but to believe in her. How, he had no idea—all he could think of at that moment was Tiffany’s warm hand, her slim digits wrapping around the length of his rock-hard cock.

A low, melodic hum of satisfaction emanated from Tiffany’s throat as she gave the erect penis a few pumps, the swollen tip already oozing with precum. “You smell so fucking delicious,” she said in a near whisper, her eyes locked onto the shaft pushed flush against the palm of her hand. “Fuck, I can’t wait for you to pump my pussy full with your thick cum.”

Seojun let out another shaky breath, the arousal in his system feeling like it was causing his blood vessel to burst at the seams. He only had a few chances to look at her ass and already couldn’t take his mind off it; through her form-fitting shorts, its nice, perfectly round shape was perfectly accentuated by the tight cloth and her wide hips. Just the thought of it caused his dick to twitch inside Tiffany’s firm grasp, precum now flowing freely onto the backs of her fingertips.

This was another thing Seojun noticed changed about him; his body seemed to release semen in much greater quantities, which made perfect sense for one who was meant to be a succubus’s primary food source. He could see that it was the case, but never really felt it, so it didn’t phase him at all—that is, until he saw Taeyeon’s pussy dripping with his semen after they had finished a particularly vigorous ‘feeding session’.

But while those effects were minimal on Seojun, it always excited his partner—usually Taeyeon, and now Tiffany. “Wow, your scent is so thick and you’re serving up so much appetizer, you’re really spoiling me.” The succubus licked her lips, her head dipping down and capturing the stream of precum with her tongue. Seojun grunted through closed lips, feeling the wet muscle make firm contact with his erection, feeling it almost snuggle it in its hot embrace as she lapped up the ejaculate, replacing it with her saliva.

When Tiffany’s tongue retreated back into her mouth and she sealed her lips, her throat flexing as the ‘appetizer’ slid down her throat, Tiffany’s eyes closed, a loud hum of approval and primal lust reverberating from her. “Fuck, I haven’t fed off a succubus’s servant for so long, but I’ve never had precum this delicious in my entire life.”

“I-I’m glad,” was all Seojun could muster, wholly unaccustomed to receiving such a barrage of compliments Kang Seojun once again thanked his lucky stars that whatever divine being that was watching out for him blessed him with the ability to live such an extraordinary life.

Tiffany slid off him, kneeling at the bedside, pushing his legs apart just enough so that she could fit between them. “You can be as rough with me as you like,” Tiffany told him with a smile so dazzling Seojun couldn’t even process her words before she enveloped his dick with her mountainous mounds.

Seojun let out a hiss, a pang of pleasure shooting up his spine. The warmth radiating from her body, the pressure being applied to his cock from the huge mounds of flesh, and absolutely impossibly soft texture of her boobs rubbing against the length of his shaft, all of it overloaded Seojun’s brain. Sure, he received titjobs from Taeyeon before, but with Tiffany it felt completely different. The difference in their bust sizes created a much more pleasurable tightness enveloping his cock, the confident smile sitting on Tiffany’s lips as she vigorously rubbed her milk jugs up and down his shaft only adding to the appeal to the whole situation. It wasn’t like his sense of pleasure was amplified like from Yeoreum or was being attacked from multiple places like from Taeyeon, but something about Tiffany’s eagerness and the pure sexiness of her lewd body being used to pleasure him created the sense of a building orgasm more quickly than usual.

“Do you like them?”

Seojun grunted in reply, his fists balled into tight fists, his eyes deadlocked onto her pink, delicious looking nipples sway with the motion of her bouncing tits. “They feel fucking great, Tiffany—shit!”

In a flash, Tiffany released her breast’s hold on his cock and replaced it with her mouth, her plump lips sliding all the way down to the base of his dick with ease, the warm, wet cavern completely devouring the rock-hard cock. Her skillful tongue wrapped itself around the circumference of it, bathing it in another thin veneer of lubricant. Seojun vision was suddenly replaced with the crown of Tiffany’s head, her hair gently bobbing with the up-and-down motion of her head as her blowjob started to rev up in speed and ferocity.

The combination of the sight of her head bobbing up and down on his dick along with the feeling of her lips and tongue gliding along his shaft was devastating, but not enough to prevent him from noticing the horns growing out of her head.

‘You can be as rough with me as you like’

Tiffany’s words repeated themselves in his head, and with that, an idea suddenly popped into his head.

His hands lifted away from his sides and onto Tiffany’s head, directly onto the protrusions sprouting from her head. Taeyeon, for the most part, liked to keep her horns hidden, so Seojun never had a chance to touch them before, so he was a bit apprehensive at first at first contact. However, upon feeling them, he could immediately tell they were as sturdy as they appeared and gripped onto it tightly, getting into the rhythm of Tiffany’s bobbing before adding his own strength into the mix.

Tiffany’s muffled moans crescendoed, Seojun’s roughness spurring the eager succubus on even further. Seojun could sense the impact of his roughness and understood why Tiffany had said those words: it wasn’t just a reassuring statement, but an urging one. Unlike Taeyeon, who was wild in her own ways but never particularly physically rough, Tiffany wanted it. She fed off that energy and responded in kind, her increased enthusiasm demonstrated in the increased vigor of her blowjob. Her movements sped up, his cock hitting even further back into her throat, a subsequent tightness increasing in response to the sucking Tiffany was doing in an attempt to eliminate as much air inside her mouth as possible, leaving the only thing inside her mouth Seojun’s cock.

Seojun barely had the time to warn Tiffany about his impending orgasm before it suddenly slammed into him, a torrent of his seed ruthlessly spraying the back of her throat, sliding straight down into her esophagus. “Fuck, sorry—” he found himself stopping mid-apology, seeing Tiffany’s delighted expression as her throat flexed impressively, not missing a single beat in swallowing each stream of semen as it erupted from the tip of his dick and directly into her digestive system. When his orgasm subsided a few seconds later, the familiar feeling of fatigue struck; although it wasn’t nearly as bad as his first time, he could definitely feel it. So how the hell was he supposed to survive an entire night if he was already feeling weary?

Seojun’s hands came off her horns, Tiffany releasing her lips’ vice grip on his dick. Although her mouth was no longer encasing his dick, he could still feel bits of its lingering warmth in the form of her saliva still coating its exterior. “Wow … Taeyeon always chooses good servants, but I don’t think any of them match up to you,” Tiffany noted, her hand reaching out and giving the stiff member a few pumps. “Maybe I should just live here…”

“Tiffany, sorry, but I’m already starting to feel a little fatigued. I can still go a few rounds, but all night…”

“Oh! Of course, let me fix that.”

Tiffany climbed back onto his lap, straddling his legs with her perfectly portioned ones. Her hands wrapped around his head, and in the next moment, her lips were on his.

Feeling her plump lips on his was just as amazing as he thought it would be. Her fresh vanilla scent wafted into his nose, her hands gently cupping his cheeks, the soft membrane pressed fiercely against his. Seojun, still being a relative novice at kissing, let Tiffany lead, soon after feeling her tilt her head for better access before her tongue came out to prod at his closed lips. He obliged, grunting in surprise at the sudden intrusion of the warm, wet muscle into his mouth making contact with his own tongue. The feeling was so overwhelming—Tiffany’s ferocity, the speed at which everything happened, Seojun barely registered that the feeling of his fatigue was vanishing as more and more of her saliva entered his mouth. It wasn’t until Tiffany pulled away that he connected the dots—was this her Trait? The ability to increase the stamina of her partner through the ingestion of her saliva?

What felt like minutes later, Tiffany released their lip lock, her hands falling onto his shoulders. “Better?” Seojun didn’t even realize his erection flaring back to life until her right hand continued downwards, giving it another few pumps for good measure.

“Yeah.”

Tiffany smiled, patting his cheek lovingly. “Good.” The gesture caught Seojun by surprise; the way she smiled at him, the way she gently patted his cheek … maybe it was just a lack of experience from Seojun, but it felt like Tiffany was acting like he was her boyfriend of a couple of years—or maybe decades, considering her immortality—by now. Even Taeyeon, as warm and kind of a mistress as she was, didn’t treat him with such loving gestures. Was this another cultural difference between the two? “You seem to have caught on pretty quick, so let’s get straight to it!”

She jumped off his lap, turning around and bending over slightly, presenting her shapely, perfectly round ass to him. Her hands reached back and spread the cheeks apart, revealing her glimmering wet folds already dribbling with her own precum, the puckered brown hole sitting atop her vaginal lips. Tiffany’s head was turned around, looking at Seojun completely mesmerized by the sight before him, watching his erection come back in full force. “Like what you see?”

Seojun could do nothing but nod, his throat feeling particularly dry. Sure, Taeyeon always demonstrated supreme confidence, but never did she put up such a brazen display as Tiffany did, showing off her pussy and backdoor with her cheeks spread apart, looking back at him with a teasing yet confidence smirk on her face. “Your—your ass is really nice, and you have a beautiful pussy.”

Seojun lost his virginity about two weeks ago, and despite how much sex he’s had since, it was still hard to get out of the mindset of being in awe of a woman’s body. Maybe that feeling just never faded, or maybe it was because it was Tiffany’s body. Whatever the case was, Seojun hoped that feeling never faded: the tightness in his chest and shortness of breath he was experiencing, his eyes hungrily drinking in the sight as if it was his last, his dick straining so hard against his crotch that he feared it was pop right off. “Thanks, but let’s save the best for last, OK?” Seojun’s gaze shifted up a few centimeters, onto the puckered hole above. Seeing his eyes move, Tiffany giggled. “Don’t worry, you’ll get plenty of time to enjoy this pussy tonight.”

When Tiffany started backing up, Seojun felt his heartrate shoot through the roof. Although Tiffany’s boobs were sexy in their own right, in Seojun’s opinion, her ass was easily her greatest asset. In all the few moments he had spent admiring it, never did it occur to him that he would be feeling it up close. But now that it was closing in, the realization hit him all at once: that beauty of a rear end, it’s perfect amount of roundness and plumpness combined with the tightness of the skin and the unblemished whiteness of it, was going to be grinding against his groin. Between the overly-exaggerated bubble butts wielded by Western women and the flatter ones from Asian women, Tiffany’s hit the perfect balance between the two: bubbly and juicy enough to be mouth-watering, but not too much as to seem over-the-top.

“You really like my ass, don’t you?” Tiffany interrupted his thoughts, giggling again.

“I’m—it’s so sexy, I can’t believe that you’re willing to use it on me.”

Tiffany’s eyebrows raised. “’It’?”

Seojun’s facial expression fell in an instant. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean—”

Tiffany’s tail swished out of her tailbone, covering his lips mid-sentence in a shushing motion. The playful grin on her face told Seojun that his fear-induced outburst was unwarranted, supported further when she said, “It’s fine. Treat me like your possession. I’m nothing more than your fucktoy, your slut, for the whole night.”

While Taeyeon and Yeoreum were on opposite sides of the domineering and submissive spectrum, Tiffany was somewhere in the middle. The way she said the statement was with authority, but Seojun could tell by her voice dripping with lust and arousal that she wanted him to dominate her. And that realization just pushed his arousal to the next level.

Seojun’s hands went to her waist as she slammed her ass down, perfectly aligning his cock to slide right into her tight backdoor. “Fuck,” the guttural groan shotgunned out his throat the tight walls squeezing his cock with a firm grip. It was strange; although the tightness with which Tiffany’s ass suffocated his member made him feel like he couldn’t move an inch, it slid deep into her hole with ease nonetheless. In one smooth, firm stroke, Seojun’s cock fully hilted Tiffany’s ass, her plump ass smacking with a crisp slap against the intersection of his legs.

“Uuh, fuck,” Tiffany moaned in kind, grinding her ass against his groin as she accustomed herself to his size. The friction created from the action sent Seojun straight to the moon; it felt even more heavenly than he could’ve ever imagined. His legs tensed and his toes curled, his grip on the wide hips of the lustful succubus tightening as the pleasure from the one stroke sent such a potent injection of pleasure into his body that Seojun felt his consciousness flicker. “This ass that you’ve been drooling over, how is it?”

“It—it feels—it feels so good, Tiffany,” he panted, his mind so overtaken by pleasure that the ability to formulate words properly vanished. However, even if he could, Seojun figured no amount of description could adequately explain how fucking amazing it all felt: Tiffany’s firm ass creating a delicious amount of friction in his groin, the soft skin of her romp rubbing against the damp skin of his crotch, the walls of her repurposed hole gripping the width of his cock firmly, rubbing against his shaft as Tiffany’s grinding caused his rod to stir about inside her tiny hole like an oversized ladle in an undersized pot of soup.

“Go ahead,” Tiffany’s voice, husky with the feeling of lust and desire, floated into his ears. “Use me. Fuck me like you own me, like my only purpose is to take your rock-hard cock and every last drop of semen left inside you.” Seojun felt his body shuddering, turned on by yet another aspect of the demoness: her voice. Surely if he was still a normal man, he would’ve died by now from a heart attack.

Somehow, Seojun found the strength to pull back, lifting Tiffany’s hips at the same time, before slamming back inside her. “Fuck,” he muttered again, his entire body shuddering with the second injection of pleasure coursing through his veins. “You’re so tight, Tiffany.”

Tiffany soon began helping, lifting her ass up in tandem with Seojun rearing up his cock, and summarily burying his cock to full hilt with such force that the resulting smack! resonated about the bedroom. “You’re filling my ass so well,” Tiffany egged him on, her eyes closed and her head thrown back, lips slightly parted, her soft hair running down Seojun’s shoulders and onto his chest. Her legs wrapped around his tightly, her hands gripping the soft blanket beneath them, her ass and boobs jiggling in response to their fierce connection.

The cool room was set ablaze, the combined sounds of lust and desire filling up the room so completely it bounced off the walls. Seojun’s movements grew fiercer, Tiffany’s body willingly submitting to his every motion: when he increased the voracity of his thrusts, Tiffany accommodated by shifting her position to allow easier access; when Seojun’s lips found Tiffany’s neck, the succubus accommodated by tilting her head to the side to present more of it to him; when Seojun’s hands reached around and upwards to fondle her tits, Tiffany moaned in pleasure and arched her back to allow greater access to them. So accommodating was Tiffany that Seojun found himself completely lost in lust, mind focused solely on his own pleasure, absorbing every sensation Tiffany’s body granted him and every sound of pleasure escaping her lips, using it as additional fuel in his chase of his second impending orgasm of the night. The fatigue from his first release had all but vanished, his body brimming with as much energy as his first time with Taeyeon. Ordinarily, Seojun might’ve questioned why this was the case, but at the moment his brain had no capacity to consider anything else but the curvaceous woman in front of him, desperately bouncing in conjunction to his relentless pistoning.

“You’re so rough, fucking me like a depraved slut addicted to your cock. Treat me more like your personal sex doll, like your cum dumpster, and pour your sticky white honey into my ass!”

Strings of filthy words flew out of Tiffany’s mouth in the meanwhile, her deep, alluring voice pushing him ever closer to the edge. “You want it? You want my semen?”

“Yes! Please, pump me full with your delicious seed!”

“How much do you want it?”

“I need it! I’ve only had one taste of it but I’m already addicted to the taste of your thick, creamy cum! Please, unload everything into my slutty hole!”

Seojun obliged, the tension in his nether regions finally bursting. “F-Fuck,” he muttered, his body shaking violently with the cadence of his orgasm, an even more violent stream of semen bursting from his penis and into the waiting body of Tiffany.

“Oh! O-Ooh, oh god, oh god, it’s so warm, it’s so thick,” Tiffany’s moans streamed out of her mouth as uncontrollably as the semen from Seojun’s dick, grinding her ass fiercely against his groin in an attempt to draw out every last drop of cum from Seojun. Her ploy worked almost too well, Seojun’s teeth grinding and his body shuddering in a second wind, a final few streams of his white milk ejecting straight into Tiffany’s ass. “God—god, fuck, it’s so good.” Tiffany’s chest heaved, the rise and fall of her boobs causing Seojun’s hands to follow their motion. “I actually can’t believe something so fucking delicious exists in this world.”

When Seojun’s orgasm subsided, his panting slowed down, his hands falling onto Tiffany’s legs, his erect cock still wedged firmly into Tiffany’s rear entrance. Although it wasn’t as prominent as before, Seojun could feel it: the beginning signs of fatigue settling into his muscles.

Before Seojun had time to contemplate if he could actually last the entire night, Tiffany unplugged her ass, dribbles of his viscous bodily fluid trickling onto his already damp groin, and looked down at his gradually softening erection. “Looks like you need a bit more help, and I’m close too. Lay down for me, would you?”

Seojun obeyed, Tiffany’s ass following him until his head met the cushiony material of the blanket he was now laying upon. “Try to swallow as much as possible, OK?” Without further explanation, she pushed her soaking wet holes so close to his face that he could feel the damp heat radiating from them. Understanding Tiffany’s intentions but confused as to what she meant, Seojun nonetheless obeyed, his hands coming up to spread her firm butt cheeks aside so as to allow space for his face. With that, Seojun closed the distance, meeting Tiffany’s vaginal lips in a heated embrace.

Tiffany let out something between a sigh and a moan, the warmth of her tits yet again surrounding the hardening member of the succubus’s servant. He pressed his face against her, letting Tiffany’s juices wet his face, deepening his access to her pussy before sticking out his tongue. Yet another moan escaped Tiffany’s lips, cut off shortly after when her mouth became filled with Seojun’s cock. A grunt vibrated against his throat, his grip of Tiffany’s plump ass cheeks tightening, digging deeper into her wet love hole.

Eating out a pussy was something that Taeyeon had been teaching him, the results shining brightly as, moments later, Tiffany’s own orgasm arrived. Remembering her words, Seojun opened his mouth wider, his cheeks soon bulging with the fluid shooting out of Tiffany’s womanhood like a cannon. Try as he did, the sweet liquid started overflowing and dribbling out the sides of his lips and down his chin nonetheless. By the time Tiffany’s screams of ecstasy subsided, the amount of her juices that managed to escape Seojun’s mouth was so large that a noticeable puddle formed on the blanket below. Seojun breathed a sight of relief, pulling his head back, letting his face damp with Tiffany’s juices hit the cool air of the residence, swallowing the sweet-tasting liquid. “How is it?”

“Sweet. Is it supposed to be sweet?”

Tiffany giggled. “Succubae who have lived as long as Taeyeon and I have the ability to control the taste of our cum. Most don’t really care to do so, but with me it’s a different story because of my Trait. Of course, blood is a more potent conduit of transferring life force, but cum is just below it, and I imagine you’d much rather drink something sweet than my blood, whose taste I have no control over.”

Feeling it slide down his throat, Seojun felt another renewed surge of energy. His body felt warm, his senses sharp. Kang Seojun was positively brimming with energy. “So your Trait…”

“Is as you guessed. I can give my partner increased stamina and strength via the consumption of my bodily fluids.” So that’s why Tiffany stated that they would go all night. And with how energized Seojun felt, for the first time since hearing those words, he actually believed that he could last that long. “Now,” Tiffany said, climbing onto the bed. Seojun’s eyes followed her, watching her adopt an all-too-familiar position. “Come and get this pussy.” Tiffany’s eyes twinkled with excitement, her head turned around to look at him, hands resting on either side of the pillow and her tits brushing the surface of the soft material below them. Her knees were planted firmly on the bed, her juicy ass shaking playfully at him, her supple butt cheeks spread by the jet-black tail protruding centimeters above the puckered hole still glimmering with fluid, below both the prize: her slit covered with a layer of precum-stained vaginal lips.

As much as Seojun wanted to sit there and admire the sight of Tiffany on her hands and knees, presenting her ass so daringly and erotically, his desire and lust pushed his body into action. Seojun took but a moment to squeeze the plump cheeks hiding the jewel within, spreading them out properly before plunging head-first into the pussy of the eagerly waiting succubus.

“Fuck, fuck,” Seojun’s moans came out without a second thought, the fleshy walls of Tiffany’s pussy sucking his cock in like a vacuum. In his entry stroke, Seojun found himself pushing his cock all the way in, the swollen tip of his dick bumping against the edge of Tiffany’s vagina. With another satisfying slap! sound, Seojun watched as Tiffany’s ass bounced vigorously at the impact of his thrust.

“Uuh, god,” Tiffany moaned in unison, her back arching even more, the resulting motion pushing her ass even more flush against his groin. “Fuck that ass you love so much well, Seojun!”

Even without Tiffany’s direction, Seojun would’ve done exactly that. At first, his hands were firmly gripping her slim waist to ensure he had enough leverage to keep pistoning his dick inside her, but as he secured himself by wrapping them around Tiffany’s legs, his upper body moved up, as did his hands, eventually resting on her ferociously swaying tits. Tiffany let out another moan of pleasure as Seojun’s fingers quickly found her swollen nipples and pinched them.

Looking back, Seojun might feel embarrassed by how quickly he threw everything else aside, fucking Tiffany with reckless abandon, but at the moment his brain could do nothing else but obey Tiffany’s original directive. Even when Taeyeon played the sub, Seojun understood it wasn’t a go-ahead to fuck with nothing but carnal pleasure in mind; with Tiffany though, he could tell it was all about that, and he allowed himself to revel in it. His muscles felt teeming with life, his every thrust not tiring him but only fueling the next one. With every squeeze of her tits, with every resonant slapping noise her ass made with his quickly moistening crotch, Seojun felt his primal lust grow. Each stroke increased the tension by one knot, and slowly but steadily, his impending orgasm built.

“You’re so rough! Fuck me harder! Pound my pussy more! Yes!”

Tiffany’s words egged him on, his mind lost in a cloud of primal desire and lust, unable to even vocalize his orgasm when it arrived. Despite it being his third orgasm of the night, the ferocity at which his seed unloaded into Tiffany’s eager pussy surprised even himself.

“Oh fuck! It’s so much, oh fuck, oh fuck, it’s so thick! More, give me more!”

The most surprising thing was how after Seojun’s orgasm subsided, not a single bit of that familiar feeling of fatigue hit him. In fact, knowing he just came inside Tiffany’s pussy made him hornier.

“I want to look at you this time when I fuck you.”

It was Tiffany who obeyed this time, the twinkle in her eyes indicating her excitement and lust having not fallen one bit. “I can’t believe I get such a high-quality feast tonight. Or, more importantly, I can’t believe I’ve been missing out in the past few years.”

“Well I’m here now, so have some more!” With the final word, Seojun pushed his dick back inside Tiffany’s love hole. Her face contorted in pleasure again, her eyebrows creasing and her body shuddering as the warm, tight cavern once again took in his cock.

Tiffany’s sex face was just as alluring as Seojun thought it was, and that combined with the sight of her more-than-ample bust bounce with every thrust sent him over the edge what felt like moments later.

“Here it comes—fuck!”

Tiffany’s legs, which were wrapped around his waist, tensed, her hands gripping Seojun’s arms even more tightly as the fourth injection of her meal for the night entered her body. “It’s so hot, fuck, your cum is always so thick!” By the increased sharpness of her voice, Seojun could tell she was on the edge too, so he helped by giving her clit a firm pinch. “Fuck!” Sure enough, the action sent her sailing over the edge, her entire body shuddering violently with Seojun’s as his cock became awash with her juices. As fiercely as the orgasm overtook the lewd body of the succubus, the tightness of her pussy proved stronger than the pressure of her orgasm. Again, as Seojun’s orgasm subsided, he found himself no less fatigued than before; again, he found himself turned on even more from seeing so up close Tiffany’s orgasm, especially knowing it was because of him and especially being able to feel it with his cock still plugging her hole.

On Tiffany’s request, Seojun found himself sitting at the edge of the bed again, Tiffany in his lap but facing him this time. A content sigh escaped both of their lips as Tiffany’s pussy once again welcomed Seojun’s cock, her vaginal lips readily parting for the newly appointed VIP. Seojun’s hands found themselves cupping Tiffany’s bountiful butt as their lips collided fiercely, aiding Tiffany as she bounced vigorously on Seojun’s cock, her boobs pressed firmly onto his chest. Feeling her legs wrapped securely around his waist, feeling her wet lips on his and her wet pussy lips splattering her juices onto his crotch, feeling her moist and impossibly tight pussy walls gliding against the length of his shaft, feeling her bountiful bosom shake with the fierceness of their hot connection and her swollen nipples draw chaotic lines across his own chest, Seojun reveled in all of it. Every part of Tiffany’s sexy body was tightly pressed against him, working in unison to provide him maximum pleasure—and while it wasn’t comparable to how quickly the pleasure multiplied because of Yeoreum’s Trait or how Taeyeon’s Trait allowed him to feel his cock being fucked by multiple holes, Seojun felt that it was probably as close as regular sex could be, if sex with a succubus could ever be called that.

There were no words exchanged this time, Seojun’s removed necessity to breathe allowing the pair to extend their hot makeout session all the way to Seojun’s orgasm.

They moved from position to position, not leaving a single square inch of the bedroom untouched as their copulation carried throughout the night. Cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, Tiffany blowing him while Seojun laid on the bed and watched from above, standing 69, bent over the nightstand, bent over the bed, standing oral, Tiffany on top bouncing on Seojun’s dick, Seojun standing up with Tiffany held in his arms, both facing him and facing away from him, Seojun on Tiffany’s lap suckling her tits like an infant while she jerked him off, Seojun fucking Tiffany with one leg up on the nightstand, even with Tiffany pressed against cold window of the bedroom, and then all over again with the other hole and then with both holes with the help of a dildo or his fingers (or fist, whichever Seojun felt like using).

The entire night felt like a blur, his mind moving quickly from orgasm to orgasm without a hitch. It was during that night that, for the first time since transforming, Seojun felt sweat start to coalesce on his forehead, chest, and hands. However, as Tiffany was feeding him her bodily fluids in various forms throughout the night, that sweat came as a surprise to him considering the fact that he didn’t feel the slightest bit tired.

But what was even more astounding than that was that Seojun never once felt tired of Tiffany’s body. He reveled in every second of it, of being able to feel her curves against his body, of feeling her tight holes massaging his ever-erect cock, of the blissful feeling of unloading another giant load of cum into the eagerly awaiting holes of the tireless, lustful succubus. Seojun had been given the impression that Taeyeon’s Trait was the optimal one for sex, especially after his physical enhancements allowed him to be fine no matter how creatively Taeyeon used her power, but in those few hours, Seojun thought differently. Maybe because it was Tiffany who had the Trait, or maybe the Trait was just amazing in and of itself. But Seojun had not the time nor mental wherewithal to deliberate; after all, Tiffany’s three holes were waiting for his cock.

By the time the sun started to peek above the horizon, Seojun was railing Tiffany from behind while standing in front of the bedroom door, sweat dripping from his brow and onto Tiffany’s back, his hands squeezing the already reddened skin of Tiffany’s previously perfectly white boobs raw.

“Fuck, why does your ass feel so fucking good?”

“To make you feel good~”

“Your pussy—” Seojun was interrupted by the sound of the bedroom door, not one meter in front of them, open up. Seojun’s head shot up, his eyes landing on Taeyeon with a … perplexed expression?

“So it is you, Fany. I knew it.”

“Y-Your servant is a God-send.”

While Seojun felt himself slowing down in equal parts embarrassment and shock, Tiffany’s ferocity did not.

“I know, right?”

With how casually Taeyeon was speaking, Seojun figured that it was OK to continue, letting his lust overtake him once again.

“But have you been fucking all night?”

“Yeah!”

Taeyeon sighed, a sound that was more in the vein of humorous disappointment than annoyance. “You always take things too far, Fany.”

“B-But, if you had my Trait, tell me you wouldn’t do the same thing!”

“Tiff, I’m cumming!”

With a final grunt, Seojun thrusted one last time, hard, burying his cock as far as he could inside Tiffany before erupting yet again.

“A-Ah, shit, I’m cumming too!”

Seojun’s grip of Tiffany’s tits tightened as their bodies convulsed in unison, far from being the first occurrence of the elongated sex session, their juices colliding and mixing inside Tiffany until dribbles of it spilled out of her slit and onto her legs.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. Which is why you need your own servant!”

After Tiffany’s orgasm subsided, she lifted her head to meet Taeyeon’s gaze, Seojun’s cock still buried to the hilt inside her. “Then, can I make Seojun my servant too?”

Despite being the one who suggested it, Taeyeon’s eyes shot open in clear shock. “What? Wait, are you serious?”

“Why are you so surprised? You were the one who suggested it!”

“Well of course I would, seeing that Seojun would be the first one you’ve designated in centuries! Are you sure you even know how to do the servant ritual?”

“…Well, even if I forgot, I can relearn! I mean, how hard can it be?”

Taeyeon just sighed, Seojun’s excitement and lust slowly dying down as he was finally granted a breather. “True, you shouldn’t—wait, Seojun isn’t your servant!”

“…Yeah…?”

“And you haven’t taken a single break?”

“Yeah—oh!”

Tiffany’s surprised interjection was the last thing Seojun heard. In the next moment, Seojun felt his consciousness being slammed into the ground like a paper bag by a runaway truck, blackness overtaking his body a split second later.

Next chapter here.

[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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(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…”

[adrienneleclerc]

Cachetona

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Hispanic/Latina! Reader

Summary: Y/N gets told she’s cute all the time by everyone including her boyfriend and she worries that he doesn’t find her sexy

Warning: grammar and spelling errors, no translated Spanish porque me da flojera, IMPLIED innocence and corruption kink if you could call it that, honestly. It's kinda angsty fluff

A/N: I actually requested something similar to @shellyshellshell but this time I’m gonna add my own spin to it. I get told I’m cute and adorable by my bestie, I’ve been told I was cute by some adults, and I’m fine with it. Like I’m 21, I know I’m cute and adorable, because of my personality along with my chubby cheeks, so this is something I worry about and lowkey struggle with. Like I feel I can’t dress in a “sexy” way or do my makeup in a “sexy” way because I feel like it doesn’t match my face or hair at all. Así que me toca vestirme “cute”

Y/N has always had a rounder face and chubby cheeks. Even at her big age of 32, she still has those chubby cheeks that her mom likes to point out all the time. She thought she would have looked more mature by now like other women her age, she thought wrong.

However, truth be told she really didn’t mind being called cute growing up. It wasn’t until her previous partners only saw her as cute, it was even worse when her current boyfriend, Henry Cavill, started calling her cute.

They met a few months ago at Disneyland, which was already a bad start, Henry took his nephews (and nieces, idk) while Y/N went with her friends as a big Disney fan herself. They met on the line of the INCREDIBLES rollercoaster because his niece liked the loungefly bag Y/N had, again, not the best start.

Henry thought that Y/N was adorable in her Disney bound of Marie from the Aristocats and they kept talking in the line until he made the move to invite her to eat after the ride, to which she obviously said yes to because who the hell would say no. And that’s how it all began.

At Disneyland

“So Y/N, I like your outfit, it’s adorable, Marie?” Henry asked, gesturing at her outfit that consisted of white shorts, a pastel pink top with a pink bow in her hair, wearing a pearl choker with a gold bow charm, and pastel pink platform converse.

“Oh yes, it one of my favorite classic Disney movies. I’m a big fan of Disney. What about you? You have a favorite Disney movie?” Y/N asked.

“I’d have to say Hercules.” Henry answered.

“The music is amazing, and I love Megara. Anyway, what are you working on right now?” Y/N asked.

They were together for the rest of the Disney trip until on of her friends, Valeria, called her to say they’re leaving. Henry asked for her phone number and he called her the next day so they could have their first date.

First date

Y/N went to her closet and chose a White lace top with light blue shorts, nude block heel ankle boots, and her pearl choker again. Henry sent her the address of the coffee shop he wanted to meet at and when he saw her at the door, he thought she looked beautiful.

“Thank you for meeting me here, you look precious.” Henry said.

“Thank you, you look handsome.” Y/N said, sitting down at the table. When they ordered, Y/N ordered a brownie and a strawberry creme frappe for some much needed sugar and Henry ordered a croissant and coffee.

They talked about whatever people talk about on first dates, it went really well until...

"I'll call you later, cutie." Henry said, kissng Y/N on the cheek.

Present day

Y/N was in Henry's living room, wearing glasses, hair in two braids, a cream knit sweater, and shorts with Kal by her side. Henry came through the door after a meeting with his agent.

"Hey, Bunny, you're looking adorable today, how was your day?" Henry asked. 'Bunny' was your nickname because after you sneeze, you would twitch your nose before rubbing your nose with your thumb (guilty), much like a rabbit would.

"My day has been fine, took Kal for a walk, made him one of those frozen treats that are safe for dogs, safe to say he enjoyed them, el muy goloso." Y/N said.

"Thats good to hear." Henry said as he got close enough squish her face. "I love these chubby cheeks of yours, you're so cute." and Henry kissed her and went to pet Kal. "Are you going to stay and eat? I can make my specialty."

"I'd love to but i actually gotta head out." Y/N said, hoping Henry doesn't notice anything wrong with her.

"I can take you, it's no problem at all." Henry said.

"No, no, its fine, you cook whatever, I'll just make something at my apartment." Y/N said and kissed Henry before going to her car. She couldn't take it, she has been called 'cute' one too many times by Henry and to top it off, he mentioned her chubby cheeks, she was a grown woman, there are only so many times a grown woman could be called cute.

She drove to her apartment and began muttering.

"Can't believe he called me adorable." Y/N said, closing the door, putting her bag on the couch. She then saw her reflection in the full body mirror Valeria insisted in getting for their apartment. "No wonder he calls me cute." She observed her hair in braids and took it off, messing up her hair. She took off her glasses to see if that makes anything better - it didn't. Thats when she heard the door open.

"Amiga! No sabes cuanta gente estaban en las tiendas." Valeria said, putting her shopping bags down. "What happened? I thought you were going to be with your superstar boyfriend all day." Valeria said, looking at Y/N who is staring at her reflection.

"Henry called me cute again, y dijo algo sobre yo siendo cachetona." Y/N said.

"But Amiga, I thought you were okay with being called cute." Valeria said.

"I am fine with my family members or my friends calling me cute because I know that. Like I’m not exactly built like a Victoria’s Secret Angel, but I thought that at least my boyfriend of all people would at least find me hot. Clearly Henry doesn't see me that way." Y/N said as she plopped down on the floor.

"Hey, you don't know that." Valeria attempted to comfort her friend.

"He was called me adorable, precious, cute, not even beautiful, and he has never called me sexy." Y/N stated.

"Yeah, I can't argue with that." Valeria said.

"See! Y siendo cachetona no me ayuda. Men call you sexy, how can I be more like you?" Y/N asked. "Agh, I sound like a fucking teenager."

"It's all about confidence." Valeria said but Y/N kept looking at her. "Okay, I love you, you know I do, but you do own a lot of pastel colors in your closet. You can borrow my clothes whenever you're out with Henry, that's a given, but even the way you do your makeup is cute, and I know you hate hearing that."

"You're right, you're right. Okay, show me how to do my makeup so it could look ‘hot’ instead of ‘cute’.” Y/N said and that’s exactly what Valeria did. She gave Y/N a Smokey eye with Fox eyeliner, a darker lipstick, contour so her face looks slimmer, and minimal blush. “I feel ridiculous.” Y/N said.

“That’s because you’re not used to it. Also, if you want to look hotter, you need to straighten your hair. Like that sleek straight look.” Valeria said. “But that’s for the next time you want to see Henry, has he texted you?”

“Mm, no, not yet. Which one of these outfits do you think would look better on me?” Y/N said, opening up Valeria’s closet.

The next day, Y/N was in bed when she got a text from Henry.

Toro: hey Bunny, you want to come over tonight? I’ll cook your favorite.

You: yeah, Torito, I’ll come over, what time?

Toro: 6 sounds fine?

You: yep, sounds good.

Toro: okay, see you later, cutie 😘

“Cutie.” Y/N mocked. She got off her bed and went to Valeria’s closet and took out some things that she believed Henry might like her in. “Valeria, I’m borrowing your clothes!”

“Okay!” Valeria shouted from the shower. “You gonna shower so I can leave the water running for you?”

“Yeah, thank you!” Y/N shouted.

Y/N took a shower, washed her hair really well, shaved, when she finished, she put on lotion, her underwear, and a robe to blowout her hair. She changed and her her robe back on to do her makeup, took off her robe, and put on a perfume Henry bought you. She put on some black heels and a pair of her gold hoop earrings. She went to show Valeria.

“How do I look?” Y/N asked.

“Estás buena.” Valeria said.

“Thank you, let’s hope Henry thinks so.” Y/N said.

She got into her car and drove to Henry’s. She stayed in her car for a few minutes.

“Okay, it’s all good, you look hot, you look sexy, you’re not cute, not adorable, you’re hot.” Y/N said to herself before leaving the car and knocking on Henry’s door. Henry opened it and was in awe of how Y/N looked.

“Wow, Bunny, you look great!” Henry said, hugging her and letting her in the house. “So I’m making the rice now, the chicken is already done.”

“Great. Hola, Osito, how are you, Kal?” Y/N cooed at the fluffy Akita.

“You’re so cute.” Henry said. Y/N paused for a second.

“Toro, can we talk about something?” Y/N asked.

“Yeah, of course. What’s on your mind, cutie?” Henry asked.

“That.” Y/N pointed at him.

“What do you mean?” Henry asked.

“Okay, I’m going to ask you a serious question and I need you to answer me honestly. Do you find me attractive?” Y/N asked.

“What kind of question is that? Of course I do, you know I think you’re precious to me.” Henry tried to reassure Y/N.

“No no no, not like that, I mena like sexually attractive.” Y/N said.

“I Don’t understand.” Henry said.

“Okay, we’ve met at Disneyland, right? You thought I was cute, that’s understandable because I tried to look as adorable as possible because I was Disney bounding. But the dates after Disney, you kept calling me cute or adorable or precious. Now i grew up getting called cute, my friends and family call me cute, I don’t mind getting called by them. But when my boyfriend calls me cute, someone I’m supposed to feel desired by…I know it’s stupid, and even saying this out loud is stupid, but when I’m dressed like this.” Y/N said, gesturing to her outfit. “And you still call me cute, it feels like you’re not attracted to me the same way I’m attracted to you. So please tell me something before we go any further in our relationship.” Y/N said. Henry was stunned. He didn’t know what to say. He turned off the stove and led Y/N to the living room so they could talk on the couch.

“Y/N, i am very attracted to you.” Henry said, look into her eyes.

“It doesn’t feel like it. Why do you always call me cute though? Why is it never beautiful or gorgeous or even sexy?” Y/N asked

“Because your adorable nature is something I find very sexy.” Henry said leaning in.

“A ver, Toro, i Don’t understand.” Y/N said, leaning back.

“Your aura, your way of presenting yourself, is very innocent and cute. It’s like loving an angel. So I find you very sexy, the way you dress in your pastel colors makes you look so angelic when we both know what’s underneath is down right sinful. You are so bloody tempting that I call you cute to hold myself back from doing what I really want to do to you.” Henry said.

“Who knew the great Henry Cavill has a innocence kink.” Y/N giggled a little.

“Yeah yeah, tease all you want, bunny. But do you understand what I’m telling you?” Henry grabbed her chin to tilted her head so she’s looking in his eyes. “You are very sexy, I find your cuteness very sexy. And I’m sorry if I made you feel like you weren’t desired because you are, I desire you every night.” Henry said and they kissed. “You feel better now, bunny?”

“Yeah I’m fine. Thank you, Toro.” Y/N said. “So…when did you first think I was sexy?” Y/N asked and Henry chuckled.

“Alright, let’s eat first and then we’ll discuss that, Bunny.” Henry said, leading Y/N to the kitchen.

The End

So Henry’s nickname is “Toro” which means “bull” because he’s a Taurus and of course really strong like a bull.

Taglist: @warriormirkwood

[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.

[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.

[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 :)

[hotmessmaxpress]

i'm in loooooove with your a/b/o au it's so good !

so now we have a healthy mated marc who just looks like the loveliest and sexiest omega on god's green earth. how do you think the pack and vale (love me some possessive vale) would react seen him getting hit on by another alpha in the paddock ?

Hahahaha the mental image of this is hilarious to me because tiny sexy marc walks around basically Being Hot and Talented so obviously every alpha within 100km wants to rail him into next week, but fundamentally marc is, before all else, Down Bad for vale. Marc was literally going to let himself die rather than get mated to an alpha that wasn’t vale. He’s insaneeeee

So alphas are like ‘😎 I bet I can change his mind’ and strut up trying to be all sexy and cool and marc is like ‘oh [whatever thing you just said] sounds very cool but did you know that [something relating to vale or his pack]’ and alphas immediately go ‘ohhhhhh he’s crazy! I get it now’ and wander away

So the rest of the pack doesn’t really have time to react to marc getting hit on because alphas are very quick to realize they aren’t getting anywhere lolll

But let’s say that there was some uniquely thick alpha who wasn’t getting the picture:

Marc is being interviewed by some podcaster he doesn't recognize. They're on camera, sitting in two chairs in the middle of the paddock at the end of a long day. The interviewer is speaking Italian, and Marc is happy to show off how his skills has improved since joining the VR46 pack.

The interviewer is being a little familiar, though. He keeps touching Marc's arm, and complimenting his appearance instead of his riding, and Marc is starting to get a little uncomfortable. He pastes on his PR smile and tries to focus on his grammar as he responds to the questions.

Vale and Luca come upon the two, ready to leave the paddock in the evening. Marc had the interview on his calendar, so they knew they would have to wait on him a bit as he finishes up, but as soon as they see Marc they know. They can see Marc's PR smile that doesn't touch his eyes, and they see as the interviewer touches Marc's arm again.

Marc pulls his arm away and folds his hands in his lap, hoping the interviewer will get the message. His eyes flick up and meet Vale's for a moment before they return to the interviewer.

Vale takes a step forward without thinking, ready to go grab his mate and put the interviewer in his place. Luca stops him with a hand on his arm, tugging him back.

"They're on camera."

Vale growls. "So?"

"You don't want to be that alpha, do you? Marc can take care of himself. You can wait until the interviewer is done to go rip that guy a new one."

Vale growls, low in his throat, as they wrap the interview up. When the camera turns off and the interviewer holds his hand out to shake, Vale strides toward the two.

Luca follows closely behind, to keep Vale in check but also to check on his brother's mate. Marc can handle himself, but that doesn't mean he should have to deal with an alpha who oversteps his bounds.

Marc steps up to Vale and tucks his nose into his neck, scenting him and relaxing as he feels the safety of his alpha. Luca steps up next to him, and wraps him in a hug as Vale lets him go to turn to the interviewer.

Marc and Luca watch as Vale growls at the interviewer.

"Can you not see that he isn't interested?"

The interviewer rolls his eyes. "I'm not sure what you're talking about."

Vale growls again, stepping toward the interviewer. Despite his posturing, the interviewer takes a step back.

"You don't need to put your hands on an omega that isn't interested in you, especially one that is clearly mated. If you want to keep interviewing in MotoGP, you better keep yourself under control. There's no place for an alpha that can't control himself in this sport."

The interviewer seems to take that for the threat that it is. Vale isn't just any alpha; he's Valentino fucking Rossi, and if he doesn't want someone in the paddock he can easily make that happen.

The interviewer opens his mouth as if to respond, and Vale growls. It's not directed at Luca but it still makes a shiver run down his spine. The interviewer's eyes wide and seems to think better of responding. Instead, he turns to go to his cameraman and wrap up.

Vale turns to where Luca and Marc are observing.

"Oh, gross," Luca groans. He can clearly smell how aroused Marc is at Vale's little display. "You two can get your own ride back to the hotel."

Luca pulls out his phone to call Bezz as he beats a hasty retreat away from the grossly affectionate pair.

Marc smiles and steps toward Vale, wrapping his arms around his neck and pulling him down for a kiss.

"So... hotel?"

[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.

[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! ❤️❤️❤️

[cr-noble-writes]

Title: By The Stars

Series: I’ve Got You

Fandom: Mass Effect

Characters: Alex Shepard, Reyes Vidal, Chief Green (OC)

Relationships: Shepard & Reyes, Shepard/Reyes (pre-slash)

Tags: preslash, basic training, land nav test, impromptu rock climbing, celestial navigation, near death experiences, overuse of biotics, food shortage, best friends, spanish, arabic, egyptian, stolen supplies, hypoglycemia, i know i am pushing the bounds of reality with a couple of things here, military exercises, physical danger, rock climbing, biotics to the rescue, worried Reyes, stubborn Alex, biotic drain induced shock, huddling for warmth, there was only one blanket, sabotage, caretaker Reyes, short rations, navigating by stars, fuck the man (the bad man, not the sexy Chilean one), running on spite, unspoken feelings

Summary: Alex Shepard and Reyes Vidal are nearing the end of basic training, and it's time for their land navigation test. Unfortunately, Alex’s biotic field interferes with the compass, someone’s stolen most of his rations, there’s a cliff between them and the extraction point, and no one packed climbing equipment.

Notes: This was supposed to be a 1k-ish snapshot of part of Alex’s experiences in basic training to be included in another fic. But apparently that wasn’t enough for these two jackasses. Anyway, as a result of having to write this fic, Reyes and Alex’s relationship has developed into something significantly more serious than it was originally intended to be. It was always intended to be more than friends, but it was supposed to be something resembling casual and then Alex had to go and have feelings.” Hope you enjoy :D

I do have several 1k-ish snapshots of other things in basic training, like Alex and Reyes meeting for the first time, etc, but this really felt like the most important bit, so I wanted to get it out there! Plus, it's gonna be a hot minute until I have any more of Alex's canon story ready to post, so I figure those little snapshots can fill the void in my soul while I am working on the next big part.

Thank you to all the people in the various ME servers I’m part of on Discord for all of the encouragement and help! Special thanks, as always, to @imbiowaresbitch​ for always being willing to let me talk at her, and also for making me like Reyes in the first place, and additional thank yous to @nickelkeep​ and @bleuzombie​ for putting up with me just constantly ranting about Mass Effect and Alex, in particular!

Like Growing Pains, there is some Arabic used by Alex, and translations will be provided in the end notes. Likewise for the one actual Spanish phrase Reyes says.

Make sure you check the A/N on AO3 for links to the AO3 pages of everyone who helped me with this fic!

[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!”

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Masterlist || ao3 || Start: Jan || Prev: April || Next: June wip!

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