#Neil Lewis x reader

[cherrycranes]

Gringo Boyfriend: Feliz Navidad (Neil Lewis x Fem!Reader) [+18]

Pairing: Neil Lewis x Fem!Reader Summary: You bring your american boyfriend Neil to your family home in Mexico to spend christmas (and keep it quiet when you wanna get freaky) Word count: 5,329 Contents: (Minors DNI). Reader is mexican and has a loving family. A LOT of mexican traditions and yapping. Oral sex (male receiving), orgasm denial. A pause between both sex scenes. P in v, protected sex, fingering, quiet sex. You do all of this in your parents' house btw. Author's notes: This fanfic is written in collaboration with my dear @honeydew-angel and is a part 2 of the Gringo boyfriend fic! Merry christmas babies!

The big light-up speaker one of your uncles had settled on a corner blasted songs from La Sonora Dinamita that barely covered the sounds of chatter and laughter. Introducing your gringo boyfriend to your family in Mexico was a success, despite the language barrier. 

Neil, "el gringo" or "el güero", as your relatives called him, was the novelty of the Christmas function this year. Everybody wanted to talk to him in varying degrees of English proficiency. Your cousins held perfectly fine convos with him, your older relatives tried their best. You could add "live translator" to your resume from that point forward.

He was real sweet, everybody charmed by both his attitude and, of course, his beautiful baby blue eyes. Your grandmother made him stop blinking for about a minute so she could admire the color up close and reminisce about a long dead relative of hers who also had blue eyes. Then Neil's eyeballs were immediately hit with the cool December night breeze again as your little cousins got curious about blue eyes too. He let them, picking the littlest one up so he could see them better.

For being such an angel, Neil got treated to delicious snacks. Chilli powder covered peanuts, bites of crunchy buñuelos and a small cup of creamy apple salad to not starve while awaiting for the main dinner. The prospect of having this every Christmas of his life from that point forward only reinforced Neil’s determination to wife you up one day. 

Once everyone had their time getting to know, admire, and tease your boyfriend, you pulled him away from your aunts and cousins to introduce him to the most important and special people in your life. You were nervous about how they would treat and like Neil. You knew your grandparents well; they were like second parents to you. This made you anxious about knowing their opinion of him.

You approached them in a little corner, somewhat isolated from all the noise and chatter. Neil quickly sensed that you were nervous, so he said he would go to the car to grab something. He had the excellent idea to bring little gifts for each of your relatives, one more significant than the other, since he didn’t know them very well yet but immediately knew what to give your grandparents—some DVDs of the most beloved and famous Pedro Infante movies, which your grandparents adore.

He returned with a small Christmas gift bag, and you assumed it had the classic 50s golden-era films. This seemed to calm you down since it was a perfect way for him to approach your grandparents. Holding Neil’s hand, you led him to sit next to them in that quiet corner. You let go of his hand to greet them with a kiss and a hug—how much you had missed them. Neil watched the heartwarming scene, feeling a bit awkward, unsure of what to do.

After asking them how they had been, you grabbed Neil’s hand and introduced him in Spanish. 

“Abuelitos, él es Neil, mi novio”. (‘Grandparents, this is Neil, my boyfriend.’) You said with a little embarrassment in your tone. Bringing Neil close, he tried to introduce himself in spanish. 

“Hola, m-mucho gusto, soy Neil”. (‘Hi, nice to meet you, I’m Neil.’) Your grandparents laughed a little seeing how nervous Neil was. 

They introduced themselves in Spanish, saying it was a pleasure to finally meet the man that everyone is talking about, while Neil, making a big effort to comprehend, just nodded with a big blush on his cheeks. You found it endearing how nervous he looked, with his cheeks turning red and the way he was trying so hard to understand.

Neil, taking the initiative, moved closer to your grandparents. With great effort and good memory, he repeated the words you had taught him the night before while you were cuddled in bed. 

"Es un pequeño regalo... p-para ustedes," (‘This is a little gift… F-for you.’) he said, struggling to find the words and with the pronunciation, his face full of both a shy smile and embarrassment. Your grandparents laughed and took the gift. You added that the idea for the gift had been Neil’s.

Your grandparents opened the small bag and found five DVDs of their favorite Pedro Infante movies inside. They were surprised, and your grandfather stood up and hugged Neil. Neil responded, now feeling more relaxed after seeing their positive reaction. Ya lo amaban.

"Muchas gracias, mija, qué bonito detalle de parte de ustedes dos, pero no creas que con esto me va a gustar tu güero, eh!!" (‘Thank you so much, sweetie, what a nice gift from you two. But don’t think that with this I’ll finally like your white guy, eh!’) Your grandfather’s comment made you laugh, while your grandmother rolled her eyes and told you not to listen to him. She hugged both you and Neil.

Neil, confused about what was happening, asked you what they had said. Feeling a little guilty for forgetting that he didn’t understand, you explained, and he just smiled. The four of you spent more time sitting together, catching up with your grandparents, and sharing a bit about how you and Neil met and how obsessed he had become with the old Mexican 50s golden cinema movies. You felt proud of that.

Neil felt at home. Knowing that the family of his beloved girlfriend already treated him like part of their own made him feel that he could get used to this.

When your grandparents’ attention was required towards different conversations, your little cousins, finding Neil just as likable as a new toy, came up to him to play. The sight of Neil picking them up, giving them piggy back rides and playing with them outside made your guts whine and beg. He was so patient, so fun, all the potential of being a good dad shining through and giving your insides a longing that did not care for time, money and your current life situation. 

“One baby, just one, please” they cried, volume intensifying at the sound of your boyfriend’s laughter and your little cousins’ overjoyment. You shushed your instincts as best as you could, nearly distracted from the general life conversation with an aunt, but ultimately, you failed. Your eyes always found their way to Neil playing with the kids and everything yours ached and yearned. And while you wouldn’t satisfy the nearly cavewoman-y need to have Neil’s babies right now as your own logical thinking got in the way, there were other things you could and would do.

You couldn't resist the urge of your own necessities as a woman, how could one have a straight face and suppose to feel nothing, watching a man both handsome and cute, treating children as his own? One could never! So you excused yourself with one of your aunts giving her a vague excuse of needing to show something to Neil. 

You made your way to the backyard, where Neil was playing with your little cousins. You just couldn't contain yourself anymore. Watching the way the kids adore him, it was driving you mad insane. So you told your little cousins Neil needed to do something really important, they nodded with a pout on their faces.

“¿Me prometes que vas a volver?” (Do you promise you’ll be back?) The littlest one asked him. Somehow Neil understood that and just nodded, saying “yes, I promise”. You grabbed him by the hand and gave him a mischievous look, guiding him to the upstairs bathroom, you were too clever to do all the depraved things in the downstairs guest bathroom.

Neil, oh, Neil, always a good boy, following you around without any doubt, doing whatever you want when you want it. Doing all the things he could possibly do to make and see you happy. Little does he know what was about to happen.

Once you made sure nobody followed and watched you enter the same bathroom with Neil. You furiously grabbed him by his ugly sweater and pushed him onto you with a passionate kiss. Neil couldn't contain the little whimper that escaped from his soft lips. The savageness with which you pulled him, already making him hard. He struggled to keep up with your needy pace, between kisses he managed to say something. 

“B-baby!,” another kiss. “Baby! W-we, we need to stop!” He opened his mouth, already full of desire, to catch a breath once you pulled apart from his now swollen lips to just look at him intensely into his eyes. This made him flinch. “Uhmm, I- your, I mean—y-your family will suspect where we are!” 

He was all red and flustered, struggling to find the words and maintain eye contact with you. Finding his stuttering a turn on, and the way his mouth heavy opened in search of air. You pulled his ugly sweater off the way and made your way to kiss his neck. You knew how your teasing little kisses excited him a little too much. 

You started by the crook of his neck. Alternating between going to his weak spot—the back of his neck, and going down. Provoking anytype of whimper and whine from him. Leaving a mark right beside his neck mole. How cruel of you. You were enjoying this a little too much. By the time passing, Neil was growing needy. He grabbed you by your hip and pushed you against the wall turning you around, he returned the teasing kisses to your neck. Trying to take off your matching ugly sweater, but you didn't let him. Instead you pushed him, again, into the sink counter. 

Taking his ugly sweater off, your hands making its way to caress and to leave a way of goosebumps throughout his chest. You focused a little too much on his sensitive nipples. You looked straight into his eyes and without hesitation you leaned and suckled one of his nipples. Neil felt like he was about to cum in his pants. You have never tried something like this before, but he sure liked it. He almost moaned by the sensation of your soft lips licking and teasing one of his nipples, he tried to hold back anytype of sound emitting from his lips. You pulled apart and whispered something into his ear. 

“Oh, amor, you have no idea what you did to me out there”. Neil felt like he would explode right there and then.

“Sweetie, I-I have no idea of what you're talking about”. You just giggled. 

One of your hands going down to touch his clothed crotch. This took Neil by surprise, he held back his whimper.

 “Oh!, sweetie, you better stop or someone will come for us”. You didn't respond, to focus on rubbing your hand against his hard clothed cock. Starting to unbuckle the belt, you fell onto your knees. Looking up at him with wide innocent eyes. 

“Hmmm, baby-y, come on, we can't, your famil-” you didn't let him finish his sentence, because you pulled out his cock and give the tip little love kisses. Tasting the sweet flavour of his precum. 

“Ohh, fuck, sweetie, that feels so good”. That gave you more motivation to continue and to lick and suck his thick and large cock like the most delicious mango with chamoy and miguelito ice cream. Neil made a fist with your hair and guided your head up and down at his own pace. 

“Hmm, baby. Come on sweet thing, don't stop.”

You were a mess, drooling down your own spit and sweating a little for the effort. You pulled out for breath, Neil whined and made you go back to aggressively suck his cock. You weren't planning on letting him cum. You  felt Neil twitch inside your warm mouth, that indicated you to pull apart. 

“Mmph! Oh! Sugar. I-I’m about to come. Please! Please don't stop!” He pouted, his mouth into an agape waiting for his silent release. And then you suddenly pulled apart. This seems to make Neil groan. Looking down at you with needy eyes.

“Baby! W-why did you stop?!”. With the same innocent doe eyed gaze and teasing look in your eyes. You stand up, cleaning all the drool you had left on your mouth. Neil was too confused and desperate. 

“What? I thought that was what you wanted after all, precioso.” You didn't even give him a chance to fight back, because you opened the door and walked away. Leaving him all needy, bothered and unsatisfied. You can't deny it though, you are dripping wet and your panties are soaked. You didn't focus on your pleasure, sure there will be more time for that…

You weren't aware of how long you had been over there just teasing and overstimulating your sweet needy boyfriend, when you came downstairs, you noticed how busy all your family was, putting everything into place, accommodating the expensive crockery and silverware on the table and getting everything ready to eat. You felt relieved for a moment, nobody noticed the large amount of time you two were gone.

Poor Neil and his hard cock had to stay extra time in the bathroom, little whimpers muffled by his lip bite as you nonchalantly helped your grandmother to set the table down for dinner. You smiled to yourself, bottles of apple cider and glass cups clinking against the table. Nearly a buffet of several dishes made by your mom, your grandma, your aunts and even your cousins presented in different styles of containers for everyone to choose from. 

“Neil! Amor!. Time for dinner!” You called out for him so innocently yet chuckling pure mischief out of your system. Reluctantly and tucked as best as he could under his pants and ugly matching sweater, Neil emerged from the bathroom. One of his hands rubbed the side of your arm with a clear cute complaint. You smiled and pretended to not understand, taking him to the table to now add “culinary expert guide” to your set of skills. 

One by one, you explained what the dishes were, some more familiar to him than others: turkey with stuffing, baked pork leg bathed in sauce, tamales, mixiotes, mashed potatoes, cabbage salad and creamy spaghetti, along with a variety of homemade salsas. 

Your guidance was meant to be a saving grace for his white guy palate. Whatever was too spicy for him was going to be a no, but Neil didn't want to look ungrateful. That was the story of the first time he experienced "enchilarse": getting overwhelmed by the spiciness and feeling like his tongue burnt.

“¿Qué le pasa al güero?” (‘What’s up with the white guy?’) An uncle asked with just the slightest bit of concern but mostly just amusement, swirling a styrofoam cup of hot fruit punch in his hand.

“Se enchiló.” (‘He got overwhelmed by the spiciness’), you explained just as calmly, with Neil trying his best to act brave and downing his second glass of ice cold coke. 

Your uncle laughed and went his way, leaving you two alone for less than a minute. Neil had not yet recovered from the fire on his tongue when one of your aunts called you both over, a colorful star piñata on her arms and a pack of cousins urging you on.

“So… When it’s your turn, what you’re gonna do is grab that broomstick and hit the piñata with all your pent up rage, baby. Easy!” You explained, guiding Neil by the hand. Your tallest uncle worked the pulley system out in the yard, crepe paper of all the color spectrum dangling and flicking over.

“Don’t you have to be blindfolded for this?” Neil asked, his source, as usual, being the movies.

“Ehh…. Some people do it but, honestly, knowing my cousins… It’s not a good idea…” You grimaced, visions of flying broomsticks and accidental hits filling your head before you shook them all off. 

“Anyways! We sing this song every time somebody comes to hit it. Just… Clap your hands for now…” You smiled, granting him some mercy. Your poor gringo barely knew a few words in Spanish, how would you ask him to sing a whole song? 

“Yeah, babe. Don’t worry. In no time I’ll even be singing rancheras.” Neil smirked, that sweet lovely smirk of his that made your knees weak. You chuckled, where did he learn that from? Probably from one of the many golden era Mexican movies he had watched ever since he first met you. You leaned closer, placing a loving peck on his rosy lips. He hummed in delight, adoration coursing through the veins of his hands that cupped your beautiful face. Suddenly, an auntie patted you on the back.

“¡Déjense ahí, que ya van a partir la piñata!” (‘Knock it off, they’re gonna break the piñata!’) Your aunt exclaimed, your youngest cousin holding a paper decorated broomstick with the help of his mom. Settling with Neil by the sidelines, the whole “dale, dale, dale, no pierdas el tino” chant started, with your boyfriend so graciously marking the beats. 

Organized by age, your younger relatives took turns hitting the piñata, some just grazing it, some knocking whole sections off its structure and making them hit the ground. During your turn, Neil cheered as if you were running an olympic marathon. Sweet on his behalf, although the damage done to the piñata was rather minimal for its dying state. It needed a mercy blow from a guy with strong arms… and pretty blue eyes.

Your family cheered for “el güero”, Neil took the broomstick with charming awkwardness and gave it a tentative blow before hitting the cardboard with a loud thud. 

“Yeah, baby!” You cheered in between chants, Neil’s softball experience shining through with his final blow. Candies of all kinds, pieces of paper and cardboard flew all over the yard in a longed-for rain. Everybody, even your family members who didn’t even take a turn to hit the piñata, rushed to pick something off the floor. Neil’s big hands cradled fistfuls of bubblegum, lollipops, and chocolates that would go straight to one of the cones from the piñata that you rescued from the ground to use as a makeshift goodie bag. 

When everybody’s hunt for candy ended and after a second piñata was brought over the pulley system, Neil found his new title as the piñata finisher of your family from that point forward. A new good amount of candy filled your colorful cone. Neil, being a gentleman, gave you everything he picked up. 

After everyone had fun with the piñata and your younger cousins were fighting over who got the most candy, it was time for the most special and intimate moment as a family: opening the gifts! You had a tradition—after dinner and breaking the piñata, it was usually around 1 or 2 in the morning. That meant it was no longer Christmas Eve but officially Christmas. Time for the presents.

Of course, the youngest ones in the family didn’t waste any time. They rushed to the Christmas tree, eagerly searching for gifts with their names on them. Once they found them, your uncles and aunts took pictures of the huge smiles on their faces when they saw they had received what they wanted.

Then it was time for the adults! The tradition was to start with the youngest and work up to the oldest. A few of your younger cousins went first, their faces lighting up with big smiles as they unwrapped the thoughtful gifts they’d been given. Then it was your turn—and Neil’s.

Neil had the idea to start by giving out the gifts you had brought from the U.S. Naturally, everyone was curious and excited to see what you had brought. Neil, frustrated by his inability to communicate in Spanish, left the talking to you. He stood firmly by your side, holding your hand tightly, as if he thought you might run away.

"Familia, Neil y yo pensamos en cada uno de ustedes y trajimos regalos para todos, espero que les gusten!" (Family, Neil and I thought about each one of you and brought you gifts for everybody, I hope you like them!) You said, a huge smile on your face. Neil was captivated watching how happy you were being with your family. It made him want to be part of it forever.

Neil started handing out the gift bags and boxes to your family. Occasionally, he mixed up the names, but you were always there by his side to help him. When everyone began unwrapping their gifts one by one, the room was filled with laughter and exclamations: "Se la rifaron, prima," "Gracias, güero y prima!" "¿Cómo lo supieron?" "¡Está chidísimo, gracias, mija!" along with the sound of wrapping paper being torn open.

Watching your family so happy and united again made you wish you hadn’t been away for so long. Neil sat beside you, watching your relatives’ joyful reactions. As usual, he didn’t understand a word, but seeing you smile and your family so content was more than enough for him. Neil truly felt like part of your family.

After the excitement of the gifts brought from the U.S., it was the adults’ turn to open their presents. You couldn’t have been happier in those moments—your wonderful boyfriend was right there with you, and your family was having such a great time! And now, it seemed like your entire family adored him.

You felt overwhelmingly grateful and happy for this beautiful Christmas gift—true joy.

After everyone had shown off their gifts and shared their happiness at what they received for Christmas, it was time to dance. Of course, as good Mexicans, everyone hit the floor to dance to the rhythm of classic cumbias from Los Ángeles Azules or La Sonora Dinamita. Watching everyone dance made you want to pull Neil onto the dance floor.

He, reading your thoughts, stood up and reached for your hand. God, you truly loved the courage he showed at times like this.

"Baby, are you sure you know how to dance this?" you teased him.

"Of course, mi amor. At least I can try! Besides, I can’t be the only one not dancing with his beautiful girlfriend here!" The way he called you mi amor made butterflies flutter in your stomach like you were a 16-year-old girl again. You nodded and giggled.

You led the dance, and surprisingly, Neil matched your steps and the rhythm of the music effortlessly. It was almost as if he had been practicing—had he? You couldn’t help but wonder. Lately, he had improved so much, and it caught you off guard.

You were even more surprised when he danced to banda, salsa, merengue, and even the traditional songs at every Mexican party, like El Payaso del Rodeo. He didn’t stop there; he joined in on the most popular reggaeton hits, hyping up the party even more. You had no idea how Neil managed to keep up with so much dancing, singing, and chaos. It was clear he loved Mexican parties—and you loved him even more for it.

Later, the karaoke session began. When the most emotional songs started playing, your cousins and aunts grabbed the microphones to sing their hearts out. The songs ranged from salsa to Tex-Mex, banda, and even reggaeton.

By 5 a.m., the youngest kids were fast asleep on two chairs pushed together, wrapped in a blanket. Your cousins, however, were more alive than ever, while the adults were starting to give in to exhaustion.

Everyone finally agreed it was time to sleep. Exhausted, sweaty, and worn out from all the dancing and singing, they were eager to rest. The next day would be just as special—reheating Christmas dinner and spending more time with the family.

The bed distribution of the house was simple, you’d stay in your bedroom with Neil because, in all honesty, your parents were not naive and you two were adults. Neil sighed all the activities of the night away, throwing himself on your bed and bouncing over the cushions. You chuckled, throwing yourself by his side too.

“Did you have fun, love?” You asked with comforting enthusiasm, your arm coming to rest on his chest.

“It was nearly the best Christmas of my life, baby.” Neil whispered, his head turning to gaze into your eyes.

“Nearly??” You rose, an eyebrow curved and a play-pretend offence plastered all over your face.

“Yeah.” He just said, a chuckle hidden in the curve of his lips.

“But why, love?” You whined, leaning over him face to face.

“Because… my girl here decided to tease me and leave me all alone to jerk off in my in-laws’ bathroom like a horny highschooler…” He murmured, cupping your face lovingly but firmly.

“... Can I make it up to you?....” You tested every word out like they were brand new, the neglected dampness of your pussy coming back with fury. To make the statement clear, you took hold of your ugly sweater and tossed it aside, your lacy bra looking right at him. Neil’s expression softened, his mouth went dry. Once again, he was dumbfounded by you. 

“Oh, baby… But won’t they he-” Right away, you devoured the rest of the sentence off his mouth. Sweet traces of candy and cider mixing in both tongues, yours was needy, painfully slow. 

“We’ll be quiet…” You murmured against his plump rosy lips, not resisting the temptation of kissing them again. Tentatively, he rose, the kiss intact. He palmed the back of his jeans in search of something, you sat on your knees and took hold of what he presented to you: his opened wallet, a golden wrapper shining with the filtered moonlight from the curtains.

“As quiet as we can…” You corrected with a grin, the sound of the wrapper stupidly loud in the silent night. Neil hurried up, jeans and boxers down, his cock hard again and seeking you after everything you teased him with. 

Swiftly and well used to this, your hand took the condom and slid it down his aching dick. Neil´s lip stung with the sharp bite of his canine, his hands magnetically attracted to the clasp of your bra. He fumbled, you giggled, easing him with a kiss, anxiety at being heard, the possibility of your parents’ judgement and the pent up desire he felt for you manifesting in the nerve endings of his hands. Finally, he managed, pretty lace tossed into an unknown spot. Your pretty tits did not even have a second to feel the bedroom air when Neil’s hungry mouth stuck to one nipple.

“Neil…” A soft, breathy whisper that would not make it past the bricks, spackle and coats of paint that surrounded you. For Neil’s ears only. His crooked bottom tooth grazed the sensitive flesh, a soft suck to his defined shoulder silencing the louder reaction it got from you.

He sucked fervently, having to open his mouth to let your nipple go without a loud pop. Right away, he searched for the other one, sending shivers down your spine and into your soaked pussy. On instinct, you shifted, the denim around you burning your skin from just how aware you were of its uselessness. Neil resented your absence as you stood up to undress but quickly, the feeling of the rest of his clothes weighed heavy. Soon you were back on top, both fully naked and your dripping pussy looming over the tip of his dick.

“Baby…” He started, your lips shushing him off right away and capturing his low groan when you took hold of his hard latex clad cock.

After a few pumps, you pressed the tip to your wet entrance and sank ever so slowly. Neil fought everything in him to keep it quiet. Your tightness, your warmth, your sweet body… He was done for.

Slowly and quietly, you took him for a ride, his hands grabbed you hips tightly, holding onto you for support. In your thoughts, as you started to pick up the pace and you pussy took him in deeper, you thanked whoever manufactured both your bed and your mattress for unknowingly making them so quiet. You relaxed after a roll of your hips tested just how loud this bed could get, not much, as long as you didn’t fuck him like you wanted him to die on the spot.

Neil swallowed thickly, the veins of his cock pumping madly. He throbbed inside you, you clenched around him and then steadied the pace, gentle enough to not make the bed creak loudly, fast enough to make your tits bounce.

His hands cupped your breasts and rolled your nipples with the same speed you rolled your hips at. He tested a move, bucking his hips and sending his cock deeper in your tight cunt. It was now your turn to muffle out a moan.

It was pathetic to Neil, but after what you did in the bathroom, he was not in conditions to last long, pressure already building up in his balls the more you bounced on him and throbbed around his cock. 

Sneaking out, a moan from him made your quick hands cover his mouth before the rest could resonate within your room. Neil’s baby blue eyes squinted in an apology, you kept riding, accepting it.

Your hips kept rolling, your pussy kept squeezing him so stickily, Neil gripped your hips in need and over all, desperation. His hips kept bucking with some minimal wooden creaking from your bed. He felt everything around his thick cock sizzle and, before he could warn you with a sound muffled by the palm of your hand, a hot spurt of cum filled the condom.

He shut his eyes, his lips pressing against your palm and almost burning his print on it from just how hard he did it. His hips bucked, you bounced on him more, your greedy pussy forgetting for a moment about the condom and eagerly milking him dry. His nails left crescent moons on your hips.

Your cunt nested him for a while, his hot breath tickling the skin of your hand. It was then when, in the serenity of his post-orgasmic bliss and your still not satisfied but content state, Neil caught you by surprise. With a hidden supply of stamina, Neil flipped you over, the bed gently grunting beneath you.

“I should leave you like this…” He groaned into your neck, placing a kiss on the skin there before lifting himself off. A well deserved revenge from the bathroom incident. You whined, your pussy fluttering and begging for more, so close yet so far from an orgasm that he could easily deny you like you denied him. 

And he would, if he had an ounce of cockiness or mischief or the stupidity that would allow a man to have such a beautiful girl like you and just decide not fully please her. But he wasn’t like that. Your sweet, adoring, whipped Neil couldn’t even house the thought in his head for more than a few seconds.

So, he killed you with kindness, giving you a loving kiss and snaking his hand towards your long ignored clit. You moaned, Neil kissed you deeper. The perfect ebbing electricity of his touch made your body tremble. 

“Neil…” You whimpered into his mouth, his guitar scars adding a rougher edge to your sensitive flesh. Neil circled your clit faster, your own slick easing this. Your sweet pussy clenched around nothing right before a finger fixed that problem.

His touch was so certain, so good. Neil did not stop once, he didn't leave you hanging. His finger pumping your tight warm pussy, his thumb circling your clit until your toes curled over the duvet and your cunt fluttered on its own. A second finger came into the scene to stretch you open the curl inside you. You whimpered as quietly as you could, and before you knew it, you had to bite onto his shoulder to muffle out your cry of pleasure.

Neil helped you through your orgasm and guided you along so lovingly, so patiently, even with the sting on his flesh. At the end, he withdrew his fingers and licked them clean with a gentle groan, nuzzling against you in a loving embrace, confirming what you already knew: this was the best Christmas of your life.

Pinterest moodboard to help you visualize a mexican christmas!

[chillian-murphy]

Let Your Big Brother Take Care of You

SUMMARY: While visiting your stepbrother at college, you have a hard time falling asleep after some drunken mishaps. He helps you out.

WORD COUNT: 2.7k

WARNINGS/ADDITIONAL INFO: Smut ���, dubcon, stepcest, intoxication, fingering, comfort sex kinda??, gratuitous mention of Taco Bell

Beta read by @sasybanana

Actually visiting with your step-brother had been the last thing on your mind when you told your parents that you would be visiting him this weekend. Sure, you got along fine, but you barely knew each other and it felt like he was moving out for college as soon as your families joined. Instead, you were hellbent on finding the best partying and hooking up opportunities his film school had to offer. Framing it as a sisterly visit and a chance to learn about campus life was purely an excuse to convince your parents to let you travel on your own, which they seemed to buy as you were headed off to school yourself next year. Besides, Neil had an off campus apartment you could crash at, which would be cheaper than a hotel.

He greeted you with a hug as you entered and set your stuff down, instantly being assaulted by the scent of unwashed laundry and old weed smoke. Still, it was comfortable enough, and was a nice taste of freedom from your mom’s house.

“So, my baby sister wants to visit me for the weekend, for reasons not at all related to my school’s reputation as a party campus?” He smirked as you situated yourself.

“Of course! Just like how my big brother spends all the money he gets from our parents on textbooks and tuition.” you shot back.

“Touché. Well, whatever trouble you’re determined to get into, fuck, I dunno, be smart about it. Use condoms, don’t get drugged. Don’t drink so much that you puke, or at least, try to puke somewhere other than carpet.”

“Wow… so caring.” you rolled your eyes as you headed to the bathroom to get ready for the evening. You snatched a flyer off of a phone pole for a house party, and the directions you got off google said it was only a few blocks away. As soon as you had your heels and your lashes on, you were off.

**********************************************************************************

Stumbling back to Neil’s apartment with your heels in your hand, the night had been a bust. You finished too many mystery drinks too fast and ended up puking in the lap of the one guy who was interested in you, locked yourself in the bathroom to cry for the better part of an hour, and bolted for the door as soon as you pulled yourself together. Thank fuck Neil had the first apartment on the first floor, otherwise you might not have been able to find it in your impaired state.

The door was unlocked, and Neil hadn’t moved from his place on the couch in the hours that you had been gone, presumably wrapped up in whatever it is that he does in his spare time (Watch movies? Play video games? Jerk off? You really didn’t know). This was fine, you really didn’t need him noticing you at the moment. You tried to enter quietly, but tripped over yourself as you moved.

“Holy shit, are you okay?”

Neil rushed over to you to make sure you weren’t hurt. Unable to form words, you started crying again when you met his gaze, big fat mascara tears rolling down your cheeks. Even as he helped you to stand, you wobbled on your way up and had to lean on him for support.

“How much did you have to drink?”

“Dunno… a lot.” It was true, you had chugged whatever you were handed and helped yourself to a variety of half-finished cups that were abandoned by their owners. You had never drank this much before, and had no idea how much was too much until it was too late.

“Shit, um, let’s get you to the bed. The room is yours tonight, don’t worry about it. Do you think you can walk that far?” There was genuine concern in his tone, even if he was a bit panicked and clueless. He looped an arm around your waist and guided you as best he could to the tiny room. Your flop onto the twin bed wasn’t exactly graceful, but landing on a mattress was about a thousand times more comfortable than landing on the floor.

As soon as Neil turned to leave, you began fighting your way out of your tight, itchy dress. Unfortunately, the zipper was stuck (damn cheap clothing) and the garment was too fitted to pull over your head. Refusing to spend any more time stuck in scratchy fabric hell (Seriously, Forever 21, who sells unlined sequined dresses?), you continued wrestling with the zipper and wiggling to find a better angle until you rolled off the bed and landed with a thud. Not knowing what else to do, you shouted for your stepbrother.

The worried look on his face quickly turned into an eye roll as he entered the room and saw you on the floor again.

“So are you like… determined to spend the whole night down there? Undeniably attracted to shitty carpeting? Horny for the floor?” Having a laugh at your drunken expense might not have been the nicest thing for Neil to do, but you were being such a handful tonight.

“I can’t get my dress off,” you sheepishly mumbled as you avoided his gaze. “The zipper’s stuck and I need your help.”

“Hey, hey, it’s fine.” Neil soothed as he knelt down to meet you on the floor. “If anything, I’m flattered… Usually I have to buy a girl dinner before she even thinks of asking me to undress her.”

You shot him an unamused glare, but nonetheless turned and leaned towards him so he could reach the zipper. His touch was warm and gentle as he fiddled with the impossibly tiny hook-and-eye clasp atop the zipper, one hand gently pressed against your upper back to steady you while the other went to work. Before you knew it, the dress slackened and you were able to free yourself from its confines, modesty be damned.

“A tiny little dress and no bra? You really were planning to have fun tonight.” You were still turned away from Neil and couldn’t see his face, but you could hear the grin in his voice.

“It has built-in cups, pervert!” you huffed as you rushed to cover yourself. You groped around for a t-shirt or something before remembering that you were in an unfamiliar room and not at home. “Get out, I just wanna sleep.”

“That doesn’t explain the little lacy panties, though.” Neil let his eyes trail over you before tossing you one of his own shirts. It was true, you had gone out partying with the hope of hooking up as quickly and anonymously as possible, but you weren’t going to admit that. All you wanted was to gain a little sexual experience of your own before heading out to college, but now the only boy to see you naked was your weird stepbrother. “And I’m not leaving you alone tonight. You can’t even stand and I’ve had to help you up twice. You’re too much of a mess to be alone.”

He helped you onto the bed again, only this time he climbed in behind you after hitting the light. The bed was small enough that there was almost no choice but to snuggle up to him, using his shoulder as a pillow. As weird as the whole situation was, it felt nice having him there, like a grounding tether against the spinning sensation in your head.

“For what it’s worth, I thought you looked really cute tonight. Before all the puking and crying and falling, I mean.” He chuckled softly and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. As sweet as the gesture was, you couldn’t ignore the growing gurgle in your stomach.

“Neil… I want Taco Bell.”

“I’ll buy you all the Taco Bell in the world tomorrow if you settle down and go to sleep.”

“Okay…” you buried your face into the crook between Neil’s neck and shoulder as he pulled you closer and idly rubbed your back. You couldn’t help but moan softly at the sensation, which Neil tried his hardest to ignore.

Had you been a little more awake or a little more sober, you might’ve noticed the hitch in Neil’s breath as his hand trailed up and down your back, or the way his hand soon opened into a flat palm and started exploring lower, dangerously close to the waistband of your panties. Instead, you continued to lay silently, dozing off as his hand inched lower.

Eventually, his hand made its way to your ass and cupped the supple flesh. Feeling emboldened by your lack of response, Neil began to squeeze and knead. This made you squirm away, but in doing so, you were met with the perfect amount of friction as your clothed pussy rubbed against Neil’s thigh. Neither of you had realized just how closely you were snuggled together until now, when it dawned on you both what was happening.

Part of you panicked, part of you realizing that this was wrong through your drunken haze, but another part of you only cared that you were being touched, and it felt pleasurable. That was the whole reason you made this trip, right? you rationalized to yourself as you attempted to grind against your stepbrother’s thigh a second time. 

Instead of being met with the delicious friction, you felt Neil shift beneath you. Did you fuck this up? Were you just imagining his hand on your ass? But before you could worry any further, he was rolling you onto your back with his thick, firm leg pressing between your thighs and spreading them, and the unmistakable poking of his erection against the spot where your hip met your belly. He pushed his thigh against you, inviting you to grind it.

“Is this what my horny little sister needs? Can’t fall asleep without coming?” His voice was low and husky, in equal parts from being half asleep and his obvious arousal. You were starting to transition from drunk to hungover, feeling more drowsy and dizzy than anything else, and the most you could answer with was a pathetic little whimper as he nudged you.

You rubbed yourself against him as best you could, unable to find just the right angle from the new position you were placed in. In a fit of frustration, you tried pushing Neil off of you so you could rub yourself with your hand, but he was deceptively strong and had you pinned.

“Neeeeeeeeeiiiillllll” you whined, once again wondering if this was all a mistake, maybe you should just try to fall asleep and forget this ever happened. Forget the whole night ever happened. Change your name, move across the country, and never talk to anyone who witnessed tonight ever again.

“Shhhh, it’s alright, just lie there and let your big brother take care of you.”

Just lying there was about all you could do as Neil snaked one of arms between your legs, stroking your folds through your panties a bit aimlessly before gathering the courage to reach beneath the cloth and explore further. After a bit of awkward poking around, he found your clit and began circling it gently with his fingertips, eliciting another whimper, this time of pleasure.

“See? I know exactly what you need. M’gonna play with your little pussy until you relax and fall asleep, like a good girl.” His fingers began teasing your slit, tracing up and down its length without daring to breach inside. It never would have occurred to you that Neil would know his way around pussy, he never brought any girls home when he lived with you. He must’ve gotten a lot of practice after moving out, because the way his fingers were just barely ghosting over you was driving you crazy in a way you couldn’t understand. You wanted him to stop, you wanted him to continue exactly what he was doing, you wanted him to start giving you more. All you knew was that you wanted him, and for him to keep touching you.

As if he could read your mind, he spread your innermost lips and plunged two of his fingers inside. The stretch was sudden, but not at all unwelcome. You were wet enough for him to thrust his fingers in and out of you easily, spreading your slick wherever he touched. As soon as he began alternating between fucking you on his fingers and roughly toying with your clit, you started seeing stars.

“You like that? You like me finger fucking your tight little pussy? I wish I could see it, I bet it's all pink and cute, like your nipples. I bet you’ve never even taken a cock before."

Too drunk, too horny, and too tired to form words, the most you could do was shyly squeak in affirmation.

“Next time I’ll have you bounce on my cock so I can watch your face as you come. Or maybe I’ll eat you out so I can really get to see how cute your pussy is. Or maybe you’ll just want to pay back the favor I’m doing you now and suck me off.”

Next time? You hadn’t considered something like this happening again, or even the fact that you’d have to see him again. In mixed company. With your parents around. Would he fuck you in your childhood bedroom while everyone else was downstairs cooking dinner? Or would he keep your liaisons a dirty little secret that only happened away from home?

You didn’t care. You were coming from your stepbrother’s touch, in your stepbrother’s bed, far away from anyone else you knew. You felt your stomach tighten and your toes involuntarily curl, much stronger than you ever felt sneakily rubbing yourself in the shower. Thank fuck you were in a dark room, because you swore you could feel your face going all stupid.

You must not have realized how much you were panting and clenching around his fingers, because Neil seemed to know exactly how close you were and began whispering in your ear, encouraging you to come. You could barely register what he was saying, you were so lost in the sensation of his breath on your neck and his hand on your cunt.

Your orgasm finally took hold, and you could hear yourself babbling in pleasure but had no idea what you were saying, if you were even forming coherent words, as the pleasure ripped through your body like an electric shock. After the initial burst, you felt your body relax in a way you didn’t know was possible, releasing tension you didn’t even know you were holding. You swore you could feel yourself melting through the mattress before realizing that no, that was just sweat.

Noticing that you were lying there like a limp noodle and no longer squirming and moaning, Neil rolled off of you, withdrawing his hand from your panties. His fingers were completely soaked with your wetness, and while his initial instinct was to wipe them off on his shirt, roll over, and go to sleep, he couldn’t ignore the fact that he was rock hard. In a stroke of genius that would soon lead to literal stroking, he realized he had the perfect lube on hand.

He shoved his drenched hand down his boxers and began tugging his desperate member, softly grunting in rhythm with his pumping fist. Part of you felt bad that you weren’t helping, you had kinda forgotten that Neil was a complete person with desires of his own and not just a machine to get you off, but you were cozy and half asleep and he seemed to be handling the situation well enough on his own. At least, well enough that he was coming all over the front of his shirt.

He carefully pulled his soiled shirt over his head and wiped off his hand and what was left of his mess before tossing it on the floor and reaching for the blanket that had been kicked to the bottom of the bed amidst all the excitement. You felt yourself being tucked in as you gently dozed off, snuggling into Neil’s side as soon as he laid down beside you.

Yeah, you were going to visit your step brother a lot more often now.

[dstryvampres]

this idea for a one shot came to my mind, so, neil is the type of guy who would invite a reader to show her his collection of anything and wouldn't see any subtext in it "hey why are you naked???" (he finally gives in and she fucks him hard lol)

Drain You

THIS IS SUCH A FUNNY PROMPT !!!! honestly, you’re right he’s just the man to do that.

Pairing: Neil Lewis x Reader

Warnings: smut, p in v, creampie, unprotected sex, neil is stupid, very brief nipple play, Neil bites you like once

Word Count: 1.9k

For weeks you had been trying to hint to Neil Lewis that you were into him, like really into him, and each time he would miss it completely. It seemed to him your weeks of walking into Gumshoe wearing the shortest skirts you owned and bending down in front of him so he could get a glimpse of the panties you picked out that morning, or wearing shirts that show an unnecessary amount of cleavage and then pressing your breasts into Neil meant nothing to him. You thought he would finally get the hint when you went over to his house and picked out a DVD from his porno collection, but he immediately redirected you to some stupid noir film. Neil makes you want to rip your hair out, how can a man miss an opportunity that has essentially been served to him on a silver platter. The most this man has given you has been a makeout session in the back of Gumshoe that stopped before you could even start feeling him up.

So now here you are, standing in front of the mirror applying a final coat of mascara to both of your eyes before Neil shows up in a last ditch effort for him to finally understand that you just want to fuck him. Tonight you plan to make absolutely none of your gestures able to be interpreted as anything other than the burning need for you to be dicked down by the loser who owns the indie DVD rental place.

The doorbell rings.

You rush over to the door to your apartment from your room, almost tripping on the hardwood due to a mix of your speed and socks lack of grip. Patting down the pink, almost see-through, and overly short dress you decided to slip on tonight, before opening the door.

“Hello,” Neil greets, a bottle of red in his hands.

He seemed to not pick-up on the fact that you thought this was a date just by his clothes alone. A Neil classic outfit of a wife pleaser underneath a short sleeve green button-up and jeans, in stark contrast to your own outfit curated to make yourself irresistible. It was nothing offensive, but it wasn’t like he was going out of his way to look his best tonight either, coming in the clothes he likely wore to work today. 

“Come in,” you say, moving over to the side and prying the door open a little more.

Neil takes your invite, slipping off his shoes before looking around. Taking in your apartment like he hasn’t been here before.

“I’m always amazed by how you keep your place so clean,” Neil jokes, following you into your living room.

“Thank you,” you purr, taking the bottle of red from him and placing it on the coffee table, extending yourself a little more than needed in order to expose the bottom of your ass to him.

You want to pounce on Neil as you catch him, out of the corner of your eye, staring at your ass as he drops himself onto your couch. Instead you settle on sitting right beside him, pressing yourself up against his side.

“Do you still have that new wave film I brought here last time?” Neil asks.

Fuck, he just can’t get a hint.

“I think so.” You do not want to watch that stupid fucking new wave film.

“Perfect!” Neil cheers, “Can you go get it? I’ll pour us some wine.”

You turn your head and frown before getting up and going through your DVD collection. Honestly at this rate you’re not even sure if Neil has a sex drive, all he ever wants to do is watch movies and talk about them. If this was any other man you would’ve already had your panties around your ankles. There it is. You insert it into the DVD player and walk back over to the couch, situating yourself a tiny bit further from Neil than before. He doesn’t seem to care, wine glass in his hand, taking a small sip before setting it down.

“This film is really amazing, it details a young criminal waiting out in Paris for fate to catch up with him,” Neil starts as the opening sequence starts up. You barely listen to the rest of his rambling, too focused on the way his lips form the words than the actual words. 

Eventually Neil shuts up, just smiling at you for a couple seconds before turning his attention towards the film. You do the same, not like you care at all for anything being said. The whole things in French and you’re way too hot and bothered by the build up of wanting to be fucked for weeks on end to read the captions. The movie is boring, and you don’t understand anything, resorting to entertaining yourself by drinking and ogling Neil. You have to fuck this man tonight, or you’re sure you’ll go crazy.

“Neil,” you whine out halfway through the film, only earning a hum in response. “I want to show you something in my room, I was going to do it later but…”

“Yeah? We can do that. Like now or after the movie is done?” Neil asks, turning his attention to you.

“Now.”

You get up, grabbing Neil’s hand and leading him over to your bedroom. You let go of his hand as soon as you step into your bedroom, already feeling your wetness on your thighs.

“What did you want to show me?” Neil asks, smiling a little bit. He’s so stupid.

“Look at the bookshelf behind you,” you suggest.

He actually turns around, looking at the trinkets, books, and CDs you have accumulating on your shelves. Maybe he comments on the vast amount of objects you have gathered in your room, you don’t really care all that much as you slip your dress and bra off.

“What in particular did you want to show-” Neil turns around, cutting himself off as he finds you bare beside your lacy pink panties and socks. “Why are you naked?”

Neil’s eyes rake over your body with hesitation, taking everything in slowly. By the time his eyes reach your panties he audibly gulps. You can't help but smile, slowly walking over to him and placing his hand over your clothed cunt.

“Neil, I want you to fuck me,” you state, looking into his eyes. His pupils, already wide from both how dimly lit the room is and also from your previous actions, grow once again.

He stands there, dumbfounded, before diving in to kiss you. Lips pressing onto yours, as he pushes you back into your bed. He slips his tongue into your mouth as his hands find your breasts, massaging them gently. He moans into your mouth, hips rutting into yours. You feel his hard-on straining inside of his jeans. You rake your nails on his clothed back, causing him to hiss out slightly.

You reach down to take off Neil’s wife pleaser, having to break away from the kiss to fully get both the button-up and wife pleaser off. Reaching your hands out over his chest to finally feel his bare skin, then bringing him down into a kiss to press his bare chest into yours. The sensation making you moan out. Neil takes the small break from your lips to trail kisses down your neck towards your breasts. Leaving feather light kisses in between your breasts before, trailing over to one of your nipples. He laps his tongue over the bud before slipping it into his mouth and sucking on it. You sigh out, lacing your fingers into his hair and wrapping your legs around his waist.

“I’ve waited so long, please, just touch me,” you sigh out, bucking your hips up into Neil’s.

Neil detaches his lips from your nipple, the remaining spit heightening the chill of the air causing you to whine out. He kisses down from your breasts to just above your panties, hooking his finger into the lining and dragging it down your hips. He hums at the sight of your cunt, slick and warm, just for him. Kissing your clit before stepping away and taking off his pants and boxers. His cock springs out, slapping his stomach. It's not the biggest cock you’ve had, but it’s still above average and, if you might add, quite cute. You don’t get much time to admire his dick before he’s climbing on top of you and leading you back into another heated, sloppy kiss.

Neil gathers your wetness up on the tip of his cock, slipping his tip up and down your folds teasingly. It’s not like he knows just how long you’ve been waiting for him to finally fuck you(3 weeks and 2 days to be exact), but he could spare the teasing just for a second. You whine out, moving so the tip of his cock catches on the sopping wet opening to your cunt. Just that alone is enough for you to moan out and clench around nothing, digging your nails into his biceps.

Neil breaks away from the kiss, lining up his cock with your cunt, and watches himself push into you. You could cum just from the initial intrusion alone, having to squeeze your eyes shut and bite your lip to stop yourself from doing so.

“You take me so well baby,” Neil whispers, coming back to leave sloppy open mouthed kisses on your neck.

Neil pulls out before pushing in again. Fuck, is loser cock good. It was worth listening to all that useless, benign movie knowledge for three weeks for this. His cock stretches you out, wide. Everytime he pulls out of you so he can push back in, you can feel your insides pulse with desire. When he pushes into you, his cock rubs along the sweet spot in your cunt, making you whine out with each thrust. 

Neil’s hands come back to your nipples, taking turns tweaking and pinching them as he fucks into you. Your eyes roll back into your skull as he starts to speed up.

“I can’t believe I waited this long to fuck you,” Neil whines out, his breath tickling the juncture of your neck.

You’re telling me.

Neil’s hands trace down from your breasts to your hips, stabling himself out with his grip there before increasing the speed of his thrusts. He’s going to cum soon if the erratic pace of his thrusts is anything to go off of. He leads one of his hands down to your clit, tracing circles into the nerve with his thumb. 

“Where can I cum?” Neil asks, breath hitching briefly.

“Inside,” you moan out, wrapping your arms around him to claw at his back.

Neil mumbles a quick fuck under his breath, before biting down on your neck.

In mere seconds you're cumming around his cock. Letting out a loud moan, clawing into Neil’s back so hard you’re surprised he doesn’t start bleeding. He follows shortly after, burying himself balls deep into you before spurting his hot cum inside of you. You squeeze his cock with your velvety walls, milking his cock, before you’re both finally coming down from your highs.

Neil pulls out of your cunt, and drops down on the bed beside you. His cum dribbles out of your cunt, but it seems you are both too spent to care. Neil lightly brushes some hair out of your face before pulling you into him.

“I’ve been trying to get you to fuck me for over a month,” you say, closing your eyes and burying yourself into Neil’s chest.

“Really!? I thought you were just being friendly with me, and cared about the movies I showed you,” Neil says, genuine shock in his voice.

You start to laugh, because you never thought a man could be so oblivious. Neil eventually starts laughing too. Both of you are now laughing at just how clueless Neil is.

taglist: @paradiseprincesss @luluartpop

[thevelvetvampyre]

Just Like the Actress - Neil Lewis x Coworker Reader

Summary: After being begged to stay after work to watch a film with the guys from gumshoe video, Neil is shocked to find out you haven’t watched porn during a drunk game of ‘never have I ever’ and is determined to change that, that very night.

Warnings: small age gap (reader is college aged, Neil is early 30’s), face riding, virginity loss, throat fucking, porn watching, Neil is selfish, he cums quick lol, begging , reader is drunk, general adult content, quite long !

Note: I’ve been so obsessed with 70’s/80’s porn music recently and I feel like Neil would be one to watch a porno with a soundtrack not to dissimilar to the vibes the songs give off so i had to add the one I’m obsessed with atm.

Sighing as you pushed the final tape into the comedy section of the shelf you had just filled with the new shipment, you picked up the empty box and headed into the storage room. Walking past Jonathan, Lucien and Neil on the couch, you rolled your eyes at their laziness as they sat there with a beer in hand watching one of the classics Jonathan was obsessing over.

Swinging his arm over the back of the couch as you passed, Lucien’s eyes followed you as you walked over and watched as you bent over to place the box down. Dusting your hands off and turning around he looks up at you and you curl your lips into a tired smile.

“Wanna stay back today and watch a film?” Bringing the can to his lips, he cocks his eyebrows up as you walk past him to the counter.

“I can’t, I need to study tonight.” You reached behind the cashier to pick your bag, swinging it over your shoulder and turning to face Lucien who now had a pout on his lips.

Tearing his eyes off the screen, Neil looked over at you and and furrowed his brows.

“Oh come on…” He groaned out his sentence as he threw his hands in the air.

Getting into your dream school here in New York was nothing more than a miracle, no matter how expensive the tuition or housing may be. Deciding to get a part-time job to keep yourself on your feet throughout your studies, you came across the shabby, indie film shop and decided it was low-key enough to not give you any more stress on top of college. You worked short hours for good pay whenever you were free throughout the week, earning a decent amount of pocket money for the lack of customers you actually had to deal with.

Oblivious to yourself, Neil only hired you as a piece of eye-candy, eroticising the thought of a much younger collage student who was financially dependent on his business. It was like the porno’s he watched, swelling countless erections in his pants as he fantasied you coming in after your shift, begging for a raise and proving him you would do anything to get it.

It started with watching the way your ass stuck out when you bent down in the agonisingly short skirts you wore, his neck pushing back as he tilted his head to get a good look and salivating at the sight of your bare thighs. Then it moved to staring at your plush tits, cock stiffening as he watched them bounce in your thin shirts as you walked through the store. Soon, it became a habit to replace the pornstars face with yours as he stroked himself, cumming on his stomach as he whined out your name wishing he was shoving himself against the back of your cunt instead.

“I have a test in a couple of days… I haven’t studied and I need to pass-“ You were interrupted by Neil standing up and walking towards you.

“Please- just one film…” He stopped in front of you and pouted his lips, clenching his jaw as his cock twitched when you gazed up innocently at him.

Sighing out, you looked over at Jonathan and Lucien who raised their beers to you, giving a hopeful smile. Looking back at Neil, you shook your head and made your way towards the door. He quickly walked besides you and rambled out a sequence of pleas to get you to stay.

“You never stay-“ He whined out in a higher octave than you’ve ever heard him speak at.

“Because I’m in college-“ Logically stating, you rolled your eyes at his lack of understanding. Turning to face him now you watched as his face scrunched as he walked faster to keep up with you, vein protruding in his neck as he breathlessly begged.

“But just one night please I’m-“ His begs were mixed in with the sound of the loud TV, close to overstimulating your senses with the noise pollution that surrounded you.

“No Neil… I have to study-“ You slowly grew annoyed at his persistence. He quickly grabbed your shoulders and forcibly turned you around to face him, stoping you sharp in your tracks just before you managed to get through the door.

“Just one film. Then you go can go back to whatever boring subject your studying.” His eyes widened and you felt the harshness of his fingertips in your arms, trying to shake free of his grasp as the pain was a sharp sting.

He took a small step towards you and you were mere inches apart, his lips and cheeks were flushed a deep red as he let go of your arms and poured his baby blue iris’s into yours. Sighing, you looked back at Jonathan and Lucien who had returned their gaze onto the TV, Neil now so close you could feel the heat radiating off his body and coating your skin.

“Please.” He whispered and you turned back to look at him, his puppy eyes glassy from the beer and tearing up, the bottom of his lip rolling under his tongue as his teeth grazed his baby pink skin.

“Fine…fine.” You nodded and put your hands up in defence. A look of relief washed over his face and his wide eyes turned soft, grabbing your shoulders again and shaking you in aggressive excitement as he lowered his knees to meet your eye level. His now pleading gaze had turned into a toothy smile, the thin dimples of the side of his cheeks showing just how happy he was that you decided to stay.

“Yes! Thank you…” He stopped shaking you and let you go once again, placing his hands on his hips as he sighed a relief with the triumphed smile stuck on his face.

Staring down at you, he felt the heat of his thumping erection from the closeness of you fill his pants, his tip leaking with the idea that you’d be staying to watch a film and giving him more time to assault your body with his eyes. Looking down at you now, he began throbbing at the thought of your eyes exactly like this but smudged black with mascara, saliva spilling out your mouth as you gagged on the base of him.

Breaking away, he snapped his head to the guys and remained smiling through his breaths.

“Jonathan- we need more drinks!” He screamed over to the couch, Jonathan snapping his attention to you and giving you a toothy smile before standing up and vanishing out the door.

————————

“So, how’s you like the film?” Lucien slurs his words as his hand raises and his finger points at you, swaying in small circles with his drink in hand.

“Shit.” You said bluntly, Jonathan coughing up his drink and Neil snapping his head to look at you with his mouth open in shock and his brows furrowed.

“What? Shit- that’s one of the most influential-“ Neil starts to raise his voice but is soon interrupted by Lucien shushing him.

“I’ve had to much to drink to hear about it Neil, please.” He rubs his forehead and placed his elbow onto the arm of the chair. Neil huffs out in shock and holds both hands out towards you with a look of disbelief on his face, looking at Jonathan for backup who just sits there and shrugs his shoulders.

You sat on the sofa facing the TV next to Lucien, Neil and Jonathan sat on the other one facing outwards towards the door next to you. The cheap bottle of vodka Jonathan had bought was almost too perfectly on brand with college students, considering these guys were around twelve years older than you. It sat half drank on the table in front of you and the cup almost finished in your hand.

The heat from the liquid had caused an internal burn on your cheeks, eventually spreading to your chest and causing a pink to spread across your skin. You were feverish and giggly, starting to see double of the TV screen and having to close one eye to focus on whoever was talking to you.

You weren’t the only one, Jonathan stumbled and found it impossible to stand up straight when taking the finished tape out of the player, Lucien half asleep next to you and Neil who was equally as red with a glued arrogant smirk on his face.

With the liquor hitting his lips he found you increasingly arousing, if that was even possible. About halfway through the film his eyes left the TV screen to look at you and never turned back. His breath quickening and his heart pounding as he watched you sit on the sofa oblivious to the fact that your short skirt was revealing the crotch of your white, cotton panties. He imagined himself on his knees, nose pressed to your covered mound as he inhaled your scent with your legs open submissively.

Each time you shifted your arm onto the sofa your tits would ever so slightly spill out the V on your shirt and his cock began spilling tears out his tip. He watched them squish together with each movement, lowly groaning as he pictured them holding his cock so well as he thrusted in between them. Furrowing his brows and biting cuts into the bottom of his lip as he watched you twirl your hair with your finger, he wanted nothing more but to grab your scalp while fucking your tight, wet pussy over the stores sofa and having your residue stick to the fabric.

“Let’s play a game!” Lucien perked up at Jonathans idea and hummed in agreement, Neil finally peeling his eyes off your exposed skin and taking another sip of his drink.

“Never have I ever… but dirty.” He smiled like a schoolboy who’s seen tits for the first time, Lucien spurring out a string of excited agreement.

“Shot if you have… no shot if you have not.” He lent over the table and grabbed the bottle, standing up to pour everyone a poorly estimated ounce and a half of vodka.

Your stomach flipped and you felt your heart beating in your ears. You weren’t a prude by any sorts, spending most nights touching yourself till you came to relieve the stress of college and kissing a couple boys at parties and such. You’d just never experienced anything physically with anyone else yet, not even exploring porn by yourself because watching other people fuck was unknown territory for you. Sexuality didn’t scare you but it never caught your attention either, feeling the pressure at an all time high now you were in college with horny men who only thought with their dicks.

Sitting back down, Jonathan looked at you and smiled before asking the first question.

“Never have I ever…” He trailed off, looking out into the distance “had sex in public.”

Only Jonathan himself and Neil took the shot, wincing their faces and gagging at the dry alcohol hitting their throat. Placing their cups down before high fiving each other, Neil looked up at you as one side of his lips curled and his eyebrows cocked up.

“Huh…” He whispered in his huff. You felt the redness of your cheeks spread like wildfire and looked down at your lap, twiddling your thumbs feeling embarrassed at your lack of shot.

“And I know allllllll about it.” Lucien chuckled before Jonathan screamed an extended, frat like ‘yeah’ and stood up to high five him too.

“Right… who’s next?” Lucien cleared his throat and raised his hand slightly.

“You know… it’s getting late, I should go home.” The words slowly purred out your mouth, feeling a sudden sense of awkwardness that not only were you the only girl playing this, you were playing it with thirty plus year old men.

“No!” Neil screamed almost too quickly, all three of the guys turning to look at you in disappointment.

“Noooo… not yet! It’s only just getting fun!” Lucien wrapped his arm around you and pulled you close to him, holding you close as he started to ask the next question.

“Never have I ever… hooked up with my friends sibling.” Lucien excitedly took his shot and raised his empty glass, so drunk he had no physical response to the alcohol he had just consumed.

Finally letting you go, he lent forward and swiftly filled up his cup, looking around to see everyone else to see if they needed a refill.

“That’s hot.” Neil said, chucking like a schoolboy and rubbing his palms on his thighs.

“Okay, uhm…” Neil looked up and glanced at you. He wanted to ask something that he wanted to know about you, personally.

How much of a whore are you?

He hummed a little longer as his eyes fell all over your body, a sense of vulnerability panging your chest as he started undressing you with his gaze very obviously.

“Never have I ever, taken nude pictures.” The guys all laughed immaturely. “Or… videos.” All of them now nodding and hyping each other up.

One by one the liquids in their cups vanished down their throats and the intense feeling of being left out hit you again.

Oh fuck it. You thought.

The sting of the drink immediately hit your tonsil, your eyes squinting as you swallowed it resisting the antiseptic breath out your nose. Looking at you cringing as the after affects of the drink still heated up the inside of your chest, Neil licked his lips and gulped down, shifting his hips upwards as he widened his knees to bring less attention to the tent in his pants. Ignoring the pulse in his jeans imagining you holding your shirt to your chin, pushing your tits together towards the camera as you posed like a desperate whore, he cleared his throat and grabbed the bottle to fill up everyone’s now empty cup.

“Your turn sweetheart.” Neil barely spoke above a whisper and he slowly poured the transparent regret into your cup. His eyes looked up and met yours, the nickname surprisingly causing another wave of heat to rush over you. Blinking at him rapidly, your bottom lip trembled slightly and your brows knitted together.

“Um…” You thought around the room, unsure what to say. “Never have I ever… masturbated.”

The boys stopped breathing for a second before bursting out laughing, a sense of embarrassment rushed over you and you felt like being sucked up by the floor. Nonetheless, all of them took the shot, you included, and all made noises in reaction to the electric taste of the drink.

“You’re gonna have’s to do- try harder than that.” Lucien lent over and tapped your thigh with his palm.

The alcohol was completely distorting you now, looking over at Neils displeased face with Luciens actions, he was spinning in full circles. As if you were looking out a kaleidoscope, your back dented further into the couch and you weakly raised your hand to rub your face.

“Alright there?” Neil raised his brows as he looked at you with those wide eyes. All you could do was hum in response as the noise started to blur around you and the feeling of your heart beating was the only comfort in the bright lights of the shop.

“Okay… I got one you’ll like princess.” Lucien turned away from you and faced the guys. “Never have I ever, watched porn.” All of the guys started laughing hysterically now, making fun of you for the innocence of your last question.

You watched as all the guys took the shots, noticing how easily the liquid poured down their throat now that they were drunk. Coughing, Neil looked at you as you sat up properly again, swaying in your seat with a satisfied grin on your face knowing you didn’t have to take another shot.

“What?” The sharpness in Neils tone snapped you out of your daze, slowly tilting your head at him and squinting to try and see him straight.

“You’ve never watched porn?” His mouth was open and his face was stunned, genuinely in misbelief that you’d never watched it before. Both the other guys gasped as well, snapping their neck at you waiting for your response.

“Never. Ever. Never.” You raised your hand and wagged your finger with each word, giggling at yourself and placing the cup down. “‘N’more please.”

“Are you being serious?” Lucien whispered in almost disgust. “Never?”

“Ugh…” Your neck rolled as your eyes rolled with it. “No!” You pushed Luciens shoulder as you bounced off the shove.

The shop filled with silence for a while, the guys sharing looks of whatever expression you couldn’t care to understand in this moment before falling back onto the couch again. Humming and giggling quietly to yourself, Jonathan stood up and notioned for Lucien to follow him.

“We’ll go to the Chinese… get food.” He was swaying as he put his coat on, Lucien barely being able to stand up in himself.

“All too… too drunk.” He lifted his chin and pointed at Neil. “Take care of her… kay?” Neil nodded before Jonathan and Lucien stumbled out of the shop to the corner Chinese shop to pick up boxes of drunk food to sober everyone up.

Shifting up to sit properly on the couch once more, you brought your knees to your chest and glanced over at Neil who was already gazing at you in a dazed way. His fingers ran across his fallen bottom lip as his eyes slowly fell from your lips to the slight gap in between your legs that stayed exposing your panties to him.

Standing up and stumbling on the way over, he plopped himself next to you on the couch and stretched his arm over to the back of the couch behind you. Sighing as his eyes scanned your face and proximity of you, you looked up at him and gave him a boop on his nose with your finger. Giving a small chuckle, his cock had already started to harden at the closeness of the pair of you.

“You’ve never watched pornography?” He whispered, feeling his hot breath on your face and inhaling the smell of vodka. His brows raised in curiosity and a smirk grew on his face as the question fell from his lips.

“Nooo… not yet.” You shifted your knees that were linked in your arms towards him now, leaning your head on his forearm that was still up at the back of you.

Batting your eyelashes up at him, he groaned and lulled his head back at the sight of your flushed cheeks and swollen eyes, wanting to face fuck you so hard you’d lose your voice for the days to come. Anything to see those pretty eyes of yours squint as your throat closes around him.

“D’you want to?” He snapped his head up before asking, a look of confusion on your face. A sense of excitement filled his voice that wasn’t previously there.

You shook your head slowly trying to figure out if he was being serious or not.

“You know… we do have a large collection of pornography at the shop.” He pouted at you.

You shook your head faster and covered your mouth while giggling.

“No Neil… I-“ You began smiling through your words.

“Just one video.” Interrupting you, he nodded in encouragement. Furrowing your brows you pushed your neck back and sat up.

“That’s… no I don’t-“

“Come on. Just one.” His eyes remained on yours, the same puppy dog look he had earlier. Only this time, his head swayed slowly as he tried to focus on yours.

“I don’t… feel comfortable doing that.” You said under your breath, the smile dropping from your face as your heart rate became rapid under your chest.

“It’s okay… you’ll like it.” He dropped his arm from the couch back and wrapped it around your shoulder.

“No I-“ You glanced down at where his landed, feeling the prickly heat of his touch over your arm.

“Please.” He whined. Snapping your eyes to look up at him again, you had to admit to yourself you were curious.

“Just one video…” His thumb slowly started stroking small circles on you as he whispered his pleas. “Please.”

Blinking harshly to try and stop seeing double of him, your blurred hearing was filled with strings of slurry pleas and begs, being unable to focus on anything but how fast everything was spinning and the violent beating in your chest.

“I promise- just one. If you don’t like it-“ You were tired of his voice, having it filled the quietness of the empty story as his finger progressively rubbed faster around your arm.

“Okay…” You whispered under your breath.

“Huh? What was that?” He pulled you closer and ducked his head lower to meet your eyes.

“Okay.” You said louder this time. A small smile grew on your face as you felt slightly excited, curious to see what porn was all about and why Neil seemed to be so obsessed with it.

Standing up quickly while losing balance countless times on the way to the pornography isle, he spent a few minutes saying ‘no’ under his breath and sighing before a loud ‘ah!’ was heard and he came round the corner. Not letting you see the cover of the tape, he ducked onto his knees and pressed the tape into the player with his digit.

Rushing back as fast as he could to sit next to you, the weight of him landing on the cushion next to you shook you as you kept your eyes peeled to the screen.

“This one…” He turned to look at you as you brought your knees to your chest again, looking over your shoulder into his eyes. “Is my favourite.” He smiled and nodded towards the screen.

A girl, who seemed quite young in your eyes, was sat at a school desk with a belt thin plaid skirt and a see through short white blouse that ended at her ribs. She held the end of a pencil in between her teeth as she twirled one of her pigtails around her finger and seemingly pondered into the distance.

Shifting next to you, you look over at Neil who’s face was already red and twitching his hips uncomfortably. He glances at you without moving his head and grabs your chin, forcing your face to the front. Still feeling his heat so close to you, a sense of awkwardness in your chest took over your ability to move and you were frozen, staring at the scene unfold on the screen.

A man in a suit, presumingly this young girls teacher, makes his way over to her desk and pulls her chair out. Glaring down at the girl while gripping her cheeks in his hand, his crotch becomes evidently swollen as he shoves his clothed erection into her face. Gasping at his aggressiveness, you turn to face Neil, once more who’s eyebrow has cocked up and mouth has fallen only ajar. Looking back onto the screen, you watch as the man unzips his pants to free his large, throbbing cock in her face. Gasping even louder at this point, you cover your eyes and turn away.

“What’s the matter? Never seen a cock before?” Neil asks sarcastically, chucking at your reaction.

“Nuh-uh.” You say, shaking your head.

“Oh come on… you’ve never seen one before?” His voice sounding irritated.

You loosen the grip on your eyes slowly and look at him through a small gap in your fingers.

“Never.” His mouth falls all the way open now, staring at you in disbelief.

“Are you… are you a virgin?” He whispers the last word, treating it at almost a swear.

You nod your head slowly and his mouth is now on the floor, his eyebrows are knitted together and he sits up. Looking into your eyes, he wanted to devour you right then and there. His cock was now beating in this pants, a hot string of precum leaking down the top of this thigh and his shaft throbbing to be stroked.

“Oh my god…” He whined out.

Slowly turning your attention away from the stunned look on his face, you peak over at the TV and wince at the girl’s mouth being aggressively fucked. You heard the squelching and gagging noises, cringing as her eyes squinted with a mixture of tears and saliva pouring down her face. You felt as Neil fell back into the couch, watching as his knees widened next to you and a small groan left his lips.

“You ever seen a boner?” He placed his hand around the back of you again, sneaking into the small gap between your ass and the couch.

Looking over at him, closing one eye to focus on his face, you shake your head shamefully and look down. Keeping your eyes on his thighs, you watched as his palm raised and hesitantly made it’s way to his crotch. His palm started to slowly rub on his already swollen cock and he sighed out in relief to the pressure.

Widening your eyes, you rapidly blinked as you stared at him palming himself, his hand pressing hard and small, desperate whimpers falling from his lips.

“Would you like to?” He puffs out as his pace fastened on his clothed erection.

You felt a pool of heat build in your panties at his question, your walls clenching around nothing and the air leaving your lungs. After watching him press harder into his crotch for a couple of seconds, your eyes pull up to stare into his. His lips were slightly parted but wet and swollen, a flush of pink that spread to his cheeks and bottom of his eyes. His gaze was slightly squinted and his eyes looked teary, noticing how his eyebrows would twitch simultaneously with each quiet whine that fell off his lips.

You nodded your head and much too quickly, he unzipped his jeans and raised his hips. Hooking his fingers into the top of his jeans, he pushed them fast to his thighs and laid back just as fast as he got up. Sighing out as his back hit the soft cushion, he tilted his head as his palm quickly attacked the bottom of his throbbing cock.

Staring in awe at the size of him, your mouth started to salivate at the risen fabric and a small moan left your lips as his palm pressed down on the tent once more.

“Do you… do you wanna- ugh, touch?” A grunt interrupted him, gulping down the ball in his throat.

Hesitantly, you raised your hand and kept it in the air for a few seconds, unsure of what to do.

“Please.” He grabbed your wrist and pressed your hand onto his erection, twitching his face in discomfort and arching his back at the contact of your hand on him.

Slowly pressing your palm onto him, you tried to imitate how he was doing it earlier. Pushing your hand harder onto himself, he let you go and started heavy breathing to your soft presses. You felt his clothed cock from the tip to his balls, pushing harder with each stroke as you felt him twitch in your hand.

“Oh- yeah… yeah like that.” His head was lulling and his eyes were squinting, slightly opening them to stare down at how you were touching him. His mouth stayed slightly opened as an exit for his whines, his wet lips drying up as his brows stayed knitted together.

Grabbing the back of your neck as his dazed eyes met yours, he pulled you to him and latched his lips onto yours. Slowly pushing and massaging into plush, pink flesh his tongue skilfully and softly pet yours, licking you fast before pulling back into his own mouth once more. Tracing your bottom lip with his muscle, he sighed deeply as he pressed you harder into his mouth, keeping his open as he moaned into yours at your fastening touch on his cock.

Pulling you back by your scalp, he kept you inches away from his face as he began panting. Your pussy leaked at the sight of him, grasping you hard as his mouth was hot and wet, jaw open and eyes building up sockets of tears at the pleasure you were giving him.

“Want you- need you to suck.” He moaned out pathetically as you touched him through his words.

A look of confusion plastered onto your face, his eyes glancing to the TV as his fists grabbed your hair tighter and spun your head to the screen. Once more, you were met with the actress gagging on the mans cock, barely breathing and sobbing at the pain of the lack of oxygen.

“Just like that…” He groaned out lowly. “Just like the actress.” Loosening his grip on your head, he let you reposition yourself onto your stomach.

Keeping your eyes on the screen, you grabbed the base of Neils dick cluelessly and watched what the actress was doing. In all honesty, she wasn’t doing anything other than taking the mans cock like a whore as he thrusted himself into her throat. Still unsure and insecure on your actions, your lips wrapped around Neils angry, red, leaking tip. The slightly salty taste made yourfurrow your brows, unaware that the substance could even have a taste.

“Fuck- suck my cock.” Neil’s fist found it’s way to your hair once more, holding you harshly in place.

You sucked around his tip, eyes still on the screen as you copied the act of moving your lips along his shaft. Moving delicately and slowly, he grunted and rolled his head back. Slowly starting to move his hips for more friction, twitching upwards and forcibly putting more of him in your mouth, you tensed up at the feeling of his large cock slowly making it’s way further into your mouth.

“Just… just relax.” He breathed out. Listening to what he said, you relaxed your mouth and suddenly his thrusts became a lot smoother as he slowly pressed your face simultaneously into him and his hips twitched up. Feeling your throat salivate as his tip finally hit the back of your throat, he let out a loud moan and held your face in place as he began to fuck your mouth faster.

“Oh fuck-fuck yes, yes stay there.” His voice was loud and high, his eyebrows furrowed into one as a hot tear rolled out the corner of his eye as he watched you begin to gag around him.

Thrusting his hips up higher and harshly now, his knees started to wobble as he whimpered in the same rhythm that his cock twitched. Feeling your eyes swell and yourself begin to moan at the lack of air you were receiving, you grabbed the base of his cock roughly and his head shot back in response. He groaned loudly at your rough contact and you felt his cock twitch violently in your mouth.

Using all of his strength to not continue to face fuck you till he came and covered your throat in his cum, he slowed down his pace as his breathing regulated and tightened the grasp on your hair before pulling you off completely.

Looking up at him with smudged mascara, droll falling down your chin you couldn’t help but smile at the look of lust on his face. His hair had fallen in front of his eyes and they stayed squinted, his pink cheeks now wet with tears and a low whine leaving his plumped mouth as he saw the corners of yours turn.

“So pretty.” He whispered, letting your hair go and sitting up. He pat your wet face and slapping noises softly bounced off your cheek.

Quickly undressing himself and throwing his clothes into a pool on the floor, he stayed standing over you with his cock intimidating your face. He reached down and pulled your shirt off, groaning at the sight of your bare tits and your erect nipples bouncing in the cold air.

“No bra?” He smirked, chucking as he glared down at you.

You shook your head no and covered your tits, feeling exposed under his sight in a way you’d never been before.

“Take your skirt and panties off.” He weakly demanded, lips trembling into a smirk as he stayed standing over you as you did so. His dick bounced as it twitched at the sight of your naked body, something he’d been craving to fuck since you first started working there.

Sitting completely naked in front of him, he made his way onto the sofa and laid down horizontally, pulling you on top of him. Laying bare on him he twisted his fingers through your scalp, gently placing wet kisses on your lips as he softly moved his hands down to your ass. Roughly grabbing your asscheeks and pushing your naked body harshly onto his, he groaned as the slight shove caused friction on his desperate cock. Whimpering as his hands had spread you wide, your body shoved forward and you whined your pain into his mouth. Pulling his head back, he looked at you with a dark lust in his eyes as he cupped your face.

“Sit up- sit on me.” His voice trembled out, never breaking eye contact with you as the words fell from his lips.

Doing as you were told, you sat up and felt your warm, wet pussy sit down on the backside of his shaft. Looking at where the pair of you connected, he grabbed the sides of his hips harshly and whimpered at the slight rock you did on top of him, your wetness allowing you to hump him easily with soft movements.

“Come… come up.” He pulled your hips forward and you furrowed your brows confused. He sighed out and rolled his eyes, that familiar blush creeping onto his face as he looked back at you.

“Sit on my face…” He said quietly. “Please?” Your heart skipped a beat and a wave of insecurity washed over you, never even imagining doing such a thing before.

“Please just… sit on my lips.” He pushed his lips forward as his eyebrows twitched with nervousness. His grip grasped tighter on your hips and you could tell he was getting impatient.

Shifting yourself forward, you lower your hips onto his face and look down as his blue eyes looked up at you with desire. Letting go of your hips, he spread your pussy and placed his hot, open mouth onto your mound. His tongue was flat and slowly licked from your entrance to your clit, tensing on your soft spot and circling the tip of his muscle. You twitched your hips uncontrollably as his tongue moved faster, slurping noises filling the room and snapping your head back in pleasure. Loud moans and whimpers fell from your lips as your hips started to circle on his face, fucking his tongue faster than he could move it.

“Oh fuck.” You moaned, mouth open and eyes squeezed shut. You’d never felt anything like this before, uncontrollable pleasure rushing over you.

His harsh grip left your hips and snaked around your tits, grabbing roughly at your flesh and pinching your hard nipples. A whine of pain left your lips and your head twitched at the sensation.

“Oh my- oh my god…” Your cunt was rubbing along his lips as fast as you could move them, desperately chasing something that you weren’t sure of.

His tongue had slivered into your hole, darting in and out in unison with the grabs of your tits, your hips rocking desperately as a warm knot began to build in your stomach.

Looking down at him, a tear had formed in your eye and you started to shake, even with you sitting down your knees were trembling beneath you. His eyes were also furrowed as he seemed to be in great focus, using his tongue skilfully against your dripping cunt.

Aware of what was about to happen, Neil’s hands grabbed your hips strongly to keep you in place, his mouth sucking at your pussy and fucking you with his tongue faster and rougher than before. Moaning against your mound, you started to shake violently underneath him as a white noise buzzed through your skull and a string of incomprehensible swear words and moans fell from your lips.

Slowing down the rock of your hips, he moaned and pulled his mouth off your cunt. Looking down at him, a transparent ooze had spread across his face. Staring at you with an arrogant, proud smirk, he kissed your slit once more and groaned as he massaged your hips.

“What… what was that?” You said innocently, his cock dripping with pre-cum at the sight of you so weak on top of him.

“You came… on my face” He smiled at you, giving you one last peck on your cunt before pushing you off his face.

He sat upright on the couch, shifting you onto his lap as his back laid into the cushion and he lifted his hips to get comfortable. Grabbing at your hips harshly once more, he started rocking your dripping lips against the back of his shaft.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to fuck this cunt?” He blatantly says, moving you in unison to his words.

You shake your head no and a small whine leaves your lips, his cock twitching upwards along your slit with your noise.

“So fucking long baby…” He says lowly, staring down at you humping his cock. Lifting you slightly higher, he grabs his base and drags his tip along your hole, collecting your arousal and wetting the rest of his cock. Sighing at the feeling of you, he held one hand strongly against your hip as he pressed slowly into you.

Feeling the small breach of his tip, you whined out and his mouth fell open. His eyes squinted and his breathing began to speed up.

“Sh,sh,sh.” He breathed out, removing his hand from the bottom of himself as his tip began pushing into you.

Grabbing both your hips once more, he started to push upwards and his head fell back and his eyes squeezed shut.

“Ah… fuck.” He winced as he stopped moving, giving you time to adjust. Your legs began to shake at the stretch of him around your walls, your muscles clenching around the small inch of him inside of you. The foreign feeling already had you feeling filled, your pussy warm with a slight sting as his cock was larger than anything you’d put inside of you.

After a few seconds, he pulled your hips into his crotch as he pushed his hips up, forcing the whole of his cock into your cunt and stretching you without warning. Sobbing out at the intrusion, his cock had now completely filled you, feeling his warm tip in your stomach.

Whimpering loudly, his grasp stayed tight on your hips and he quickly pulled out and lifted you up off of him.

“So fucking…” He said breathlessly “tight!” He moaned loudly as he thrusted himself fully into you again.

Your head fell back in pain with him repeating this action over and over again. Slowly, your cunt stretched to his size and mixed with your wetness, his cock started fucking you roughly as quickly as he selfishly began chasing his high.

“Fuck-fuck, fuck! Yes… yes just like that.” His cock hit the back of your walls with each thrust, he sobbed out the words and began crying while he fucked you mercilessly. He’d occasionally look up at the way his cock was splitting you into two, a tear rolling down his cheek as his balls bounced on your ass and a loud slap noise vibrated off your skin with each stroke.

Crying out in pleasure, you were a moaning mess and became weak under his thrust. Fucking you faster and harshly, you felt him twitch inside of you as he cried out in pleasure.

“I’m so close… so-so close.” He whimpered, his thrusts getting sloppier and messier as his pace became erratic.

Suddenly, you felt a warm string shoot up inside of you, coating your walls as you clenched rhythmically around his cumming cock. Leaving dents into the side of your hips, his hands stayed aggressively holding onto you as he felt his balls tense up, emptying themselves completely into the back of you. A sequence of praises, cries and whimpers left his lips, watching as his body shook uncontrollably under you and vibrating from your walls.

Letting you go as you subconsciously started to slowly rock once more, he sighed out and finally opened his eyes, his eyelashes dark and wet as his gaze remained pussy drunk on your face. Looking at you, he cupped your cheeks and pulled you in, slowly placing wet kisses around your face as his softening cock stayed inside of you.

Pulling yourself off of him after you had both caught your breath, you flopped back onto the couch. Suddenly, you were a lot more sober and worn out, a tearing pain seeping from your hole as you curled on the couch.

Breathlessly, he looked over at you and glanced at your red, swollen pussy that leaked his cum onto the sofa. Chuckling, he grabbed an ass cheek and pulled you apart further.

“You’re going to stay to watch movies after work now?” He whispered, a smirk growing on his face.

You looked up and him and hummed, smiling as you nodded. Slapping your ass, he stood up and grabbed your clothes.

“Get dressed. They’ll be back soon.”

[mysaintkitten]

drabble prompt: your bf cheats on you and you seek comfort from your stepbro

WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI, stepcest of course, mutual masturbation

note: it’s been like two months since I’ve written so I’m sorry that I’m rusty :,( I hate how inactive I’ve been but my writers block has been sooo bad. praying I get over this soon and start actually getting back on track. anyway, hope you like! *also not proofread*

“Jesus, how could he do this to you?” Neil cooed empathetically as you sniffled. You couldn’t believe your boyfriend went and cheated on you, after all you’d been through together.

Typically your first instinct would be to confide in your friends, but it was far too late in the night and you knew none of them would be awake. So, hesitantly, you sought solace in your stepbrother.

He accepted you in and surprisingly provided you the comfort that you so desperately needed at a time like this.

It started off innocent, he really was just trying to help. He brushed your hair out of your face then rubbed your back, inching his body closer and closer until your thighs touched.

One of his hands sat behind you, while the other lightly grazed the top of your thigh, assessing your comfort level before going any further. When he noticed you didn’t push him away, he got more confident with his touches, his large palms massaging the soft skin.

“His loss,” he purred as he leaned into your ear, “he doesn’t know what he had.”

You blush and briefly shift away, but continue to let Neil touch you while his lips brush against your neck. This was wrong, neither of you could avoid this. But you’d always thought Neil was attractive, and all you want right now is to feel desired, so why not just see where this goes?

Neil’s teeth graze your neck, he whispers that he has an idea.

His plan quickly leads to your thighs over top of his, your glistening cunt and Neil’s hard cock sit mere centimetres away from one another. Neil’s got his hand on your inner thigh, running his thumb against one of your lower lips. Your hand mirrors his, as you lightly grip his base with your fingers.

“God,” he smirks at you, his eyes heavy with visible lust, “your boyfriend’s a fuckin’ moron”. He fucks his bottom lip between his teeth before moving inching his thumb closer to your folds, gently grazing it across your swollen clit.

An involuntary gasp falls from your lips at the contact, and your grip gets tighter around Neil’s cock in response.

He begins to rub slow circles against the sensitive nub, his eyes fixated on the way your cheeks flush deeper and your tits get harder.

He keeps rubbing, picking up his pace while his jaw goes slack. His thumb occasionally dips down to your opening, spreading around your arousal before bringing his attention back to the top. You’d almost completely forgotten that you were meant to be touching him back, until you feel his free hand rest over yours, guiding your soft palm up and down his cock just how he likes it. You mutter a small, almost inaudible apology, before pumping him all on your own.

Neil groans, his head dipping back, his eyes stuck on your leaky little hole. The hand that was just guiding you now rests on your other inner thigh, squeezing and massaging the smooth skin.

“N-Neil,” you mewl as you spread your legs further, inching your hips impossibly closer to his, the heat radiating off of his body is driving you insane. “This is bad, we gotta-“

Neil chuckles, taking his attention away from your clit to spread your lips apart, watching how it glistens and pulses for him. He dips his middle finger inside, your core eagerly accepts him in, clenching around him desperately as if she’s asking for more.

“How bad can it be if it’s got you this wet?” He taunts, “just wanna make you feel better, that’s all.”

He was undoubtedly making you feel better, the friction and warmth between your legs filtered out all of the unpleasant thoughts and emotions that were just racing through your mind.

As much as he likes your hand, it’s just not enough anymore. He suggests that maybe you should sit on his lap. Neil promises he won’t go inside, he just wants to feel you closer, it’s still just a little touching- isn’t it?

You straddle his lap, his flushed cock sitting lewdly between your wet lower lips. He chokes back a moan, his knees bent and feet planted on the bed with his heavy hands resting on your hips. Slowly, you roll your hips, grinding your sex against his throbbing length. You dip your head back and moan while his tip bumps against your swollen clit, your arousal crudely coating his length as you pathetically rut against him.

“F-fuck …” Neil chuckles breathlessly while he guided your hips skillfully, “you need me so bad, baby.”

Your head tipped back down and your lips found Neil’s. You don’t kiss, but your lips touch as you pant into each other’s mouths, mutually embracing the pure arousal dripping from each other.

“Yeah,” you whine weakly, your voice all high and breathy, “need more, need you.”

He groans as pre leaks from his tip, he was so set on not fucking you tonight, but the wetter and more insatiable you got- the harder it was to deny these urges.

“Maybe just the tip,” he pants with a grin.

—

I don’t feel confident about this .. like at all .. but I Need to get the ball rolling somehow. I’ll be going through my requests and seeing if anything can reignite my motivation. Wish me luck !!

[mypoisonedvine]

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 (part two) | neil lewis x reader

read part 1 first!!

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | you've been best friends with neil basically your entire life, and secretly in love with him almost as long. now, you have to wonder if it's time to move on... or if that's even possible.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 10k

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | smut, angst, pining/unrequited love - 18+ only

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | hangovers, jealousy/mega angst, smut (finally; unprotected sex, bondage mention, crying during sex/slight dacryphilia) and fluff/emotions

You were draped over the couch limply, groaning as you held a frozen bag of peas to your head— and used it to cover your eyes, because everything was just too fucking bright.

“You look like one of those weed commercials,” Jonathan informed you with a frown.  “Like, the one with the deflated girl.”

“Those aren’t commercials for weed, dumbass,” Lucien snarked.  “They’re PSAs.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Jonathan shrugged, “I only watch TV when I’m stoned.”

“How are you even alive right now?” you asked Jonathan with a whine.  “Like, how are you doing anything more than this?  ‘Cause I’m just doing this and I think I’m dying.”

“The secret is not being a lightweight,” Jonathan explained.

“Don’t listen to him,” Neil warned, “his liver’s like a rotten egg.  You should be proud to be a lightweight— actually, I’m still not sure why you got so wrecked last night.”

“You’re just jealous you weren’t invited,” Jonathan quipped, and you were too busy keeping your eyes shut to see if Neil actually reacted to that.

“Are you actually planning to do any work today?” Lucien wondered.  “Or are you getting paid to lay around complaining?”

“Are you getting paid to be so bitchy?” you shot back.  “Just make it my paid sick leave.”

“Sick, yes; paid, yes,” Jonathan noticed, “but you didn’t actually leave.”

“If she wants to spend her sick day here, she can,” Neil decided, “it’s not like she’s contagious.”

“She might be, if she talks you all into coming out again tonight,” Jonathan laughed, but you barely let him finish.

“No fucking way,” you interjected instantly, “I’m never drinking again.”

“But the best cure for a hangover is liquor!” Jonathan insisted.

“That’s the most alcoholic advice I’ve ever heard you give,” Lucien scolded.  “Next you’ll say you should drink in the mornings to perk up.”

“Actually, that’s not a bad idea,” Neil decided.

“See!” Jonathan yelped triumphantly.

“No, not booze— kid, you want me to get you a coffee or something?” Neil offered instead.  You could tell he’d stepped a little closer from the sound of his voice— and he was speaking a little softer, too.  You hesitantly peeled the bag off your head— just partially, that is— and squinted one eye open; thankfully, his head was blocking most of the overhead light as he looked down at you.  “There’s that place on the corner, I could just run and get it real quick—”

“I’m okay,” you smiled back, “but thanks.”

“Not even a hot chocolate?”

You already felt warm inside from him saying that, no hot beverage required.  You shook your head and he shrugged as he walked away.  “Just let me know, okay?”

“Okay,” you hummed.  You liked this, actually— him taking care of you.  It wasn’t the first time of course, you’d gotten sick your fair share of times while knowing him and he’d usually come over and help how he could (which was mostly in the form of takeout soup and entertainment).  But now you imagined it a little… cozier: him wrapping you up in a blanket and then in his arms, checking your temperature by putting his hand to your forehead, letting you drift to sleep on him while he read to you or something.  

You probably could’ve dozed off as you imagined that little fantasy world, if it weren’t for Neil breaking the silence a minute later.  “You know, I was thinking about changing things up a bit,” he said suddenly.

“Please, please, do not try to grow a goatee again,” Lucien begged.  As you and Jonathan erupted in a chorus of disgusted agreement, Neil spoke over you all.

“I meant the store!” he promised.  “The shelves— and maybe some of the posters, I don’t know.”

“Or you can finally take my idea and start renting porn,” Jonathan offered.

“First of all,” Neil explained, “technically, some of our inventory is considered erotic—”

“No no, not your weirdo French experimental softcore— the good stuff: college babes, horny stepmoms…” Jonathan began to list.

“And second of all,” Neil continued, but Jonathan was still going.

“Norwegian twins coming to America for a foreign exchange program—”

“Norwegian twins?” you repeated with a confused grimace.

“And second of all,” Neil began again, louder and with a scowl on his face, “we don’t have any good way to disinfect the tapes after people return them.”

“That’s a very good point,” Lucien noticed.

Much later in the day— after a few customers had come and gone, and Jonathan had left for the day, and the UPS guy had come by with a delivery of some new (old) movies to add to the store’s inventory— it ended up with you and Neil in his office.

You hadn’t tried to be in the same office at the same time, really… if anything, you were kind of avoiding him at the moment.  Not that you could actually avoid your boss while at work in such a small place— even if he wasn’t your best friend— but you’d been dodging the elephant in the room this whole time.

He sat at his desk and leaned back in the chair, putting one foot up against the desk to tilt back even further as he looked through the stack of mail.  For a minute, there was just silence, aside from you both just working.  Of course, it couldn’t last forever.

“You, uh, told me you were going back to yours last night,” Neil noticed as he sorted through the envelopes— you figured it was a matter of time before he mentioned it, unless he had a serious lapse of memory, but you still winced.

“Yeah, um, sorry, I just—”

“No, it’s fine,” he shrugged, not looking up from the mail, “you didn’t have to take me out with you— I was pretty beat anyways, I just… I’m just not sure why you didn’t tell me?”

“I— I was going home, really,” you explained, “I got there and I couldn’t sleep, and wine always makes me tired but I didn’t have any so—”

“So you did whiskey shots with Jonathan?”

God, you almost thought about saying it, even if it wasn’t true, just to piss him off.  Yeah— and we went back to his place and did the horizontal tango.  Would you like me to bring you the register?

Instead, you cleared your throat and set down the tapes.  “I don’t have to explain myself to you,” you told him; he looked up at you with a sort of deer-in-the-headlights look.

“I-I know,” he stammered out, “sorry, I was just… I’m curious, that’s all.”

“Well, maybe what Jonathan and I do is none of your business,” you replied, looking back down at the tapes as you fought down a smirk; you could feel his stare piercing through you, but you didn’t give him the satisfaction of meeting your gaze.  Is that cryptic enough for you?  Maybe I should say something about how I don’t kiss and tell.

You almost hoped he’d go in for the kill— make some shitty comment about how you were a slut or how Jonathan was probably thinking about Norwegian twins the whole time— cause if he did, you could yell at him and you’d both get all worked up and maybe at least one of you would finally get out of control enough to say what you were really thinking.  Instead, he got sweet again; and that was even worse, because you couldn’t resist it.  “Wanna make cookies tonight?” he asked, randomly, softly.

“Yeah,” you smiled, “can we put potato chips in them?”

“You know, kid, I think you’re sort of an evil mastermind,” he grinned.

“Just a creative glutton,” you shrugged.

~

With the Jonathan thing behind you— if that was even really a thing— things felt back to normal with Neil.  Honestly, they might have been even better than they’d been in a while, since he wasn’t with Denise anymore.  Denise had never been jealous of you— she was just as confident as you were that you weren’t any kind of threat whatsoever— but she did whine about Neil spending more time with you than her… that is, when she actually wanted to be around Neil, which wasn’t always.  Sometimes, she seemed to appreciate you taking him off her hands, giving him an outlet for all the interests she found irritating.

But, anyways, she was gone, and you were giving up on dating (again), and Neil wasn’t being weird and you guys made cookies and it was great.  It was easy to remember how you'd survived in this cycle for so long.  Because as much as you were probably not the world's best person, you absolutely were not pretending to be Neil's friend because you had a crush— no, he really was the most important person to you, you just also wanted to touch him in all those ways that friends weren't supposed to.

You were almost giddy, high on how good it was to be back to your usual; the night before had been just perfect, like the old times, like high school— in all the best ways.

You'd probably seen him every day for the past two weeks— either at work, at his place or yours— and you had no plans to stop.  That was pretty normal for you two anyways.  You had the day off from work so you hadn't seen him yet; yes, you had considered stopping by the store anyways since Jonathan came in when he wasn't working, but you'd been too busy with your own errands and catching up on tasks at home.

Figuring it was a matter of time before Neil called you and asked to come over— or just showed up— you gave him a call around nine (knowing the store had just closed) and felt yourself get even just a little more energized when he answered.

"Hey, kid," his voice came from the other end, low and dreamy.  He was speaking softly, like it was a secret conversation, and that just made your heart beat a little faster.

“I think I’ve found the perfect movie to go with the last of the leftover cookies,” you grinned.  “I was going through my old tapes and— do you remember that weird Italian movie we watched in high school?  I think it must’ve been senior year because I remember we watched it while everyone was doing skip day— and we thought it was the funniest thing we’d ever seen— and I found it again!  Maybe it’s not as good as I remember, but I’ll bring it over and we can cover up the subtitles and see if we can guess what the hell they’re talking about.”

“Yeah, actually—”

“Oh!  Also, is it cool if I crash at yours after?  I’ll bring my own pajamas this time— and toothbrush, sorry about having to borrow yours, but—”

“Listen, um,” he coughed, lowering his voice even more, “that sounds great— but I, uh… I sort of have company for the night."

“Oh?” you blurted out, like you’d been punched in the gut— it sure felt like it.  “Oh, that’s… anybody I know?”

“No, um, we met today,” he explained.  “She, uh, came by the video store and we got to talking.”

Whore.  “Let me guess, showing her something from the private collection?” you asked— and you really did mean to refer to his literal DVD shelf, but he let out a sort of salacious chuckle.

“If all goes well,” he replied with a purr.

“R-right, well, sorry for calling—”

“No no, it’s fine,” he promised, “we’ll talk tomorrow?”

Tomorrow.  Yes, tomorrow, because I always come back, no matter how bad it hurts.  “Yeah,” you breathed.  “Good luck.”

“Thanks,” he returned, and you kept holding the phone to your ear long after the click and dial tone.

You knew you had absolutely no right to be jealous.  Honestly, you weren’t— well, you definitely were, but that wasn’t why you ran to your bed and sobbed into it.  You did that because of the hate you felt— some for Neil, some for little miss I go back to video store owner’s apartments, but plenty leftover for yourself.  You had only been through as much as you put yourself through; as much as you allowed to happen.  You stayed by his side all these years and let your heart get battered around… it wasn’t always this hard, and you used to be sure that it would be harder to stop being his sidekick.�� But you couldn’t do this anymore— it was just humiliating, and useless.

You thought about calling Jonathan, but you felt guilty dumping any more weepy girl problems on him.  And, you know, that wouldn’t actually fix anything.  There was only one way to fix this, but you didn’t think you were strong enough— you knew you weren’t, actually.

It was hard to say why this one hurt so much— it’s not like you thought Neil was a virgin or something, or genuinely expected him to stay chaste after breaking up with Denise— but you suspected it was because you yourself were recognizing how long you’d been stuck in this cycle with him.  You remembered crying in your bed just like this when he got his first girlfriend junior year; you realized how little you’d changed since then.  How little you’d grown up.

So, no, you weren’t just crying because you were that jealous he was going to have sex with some random woman.  But you had to admit that was definitely part of it.

~

"Hey boss," Jonathan greeted as Neil walked in; you looked down at the tapes on the shelf in front of you, suddenly making yourself look very busy.  "How's the walk of shame?"

"I prefer 'stride of pride'," Neil replied.

“So that girl really came over after close?” Lucien realized.

“Yeah, she, uh, wanted to see The Seventh Seal,” Neil explained.

“I’m suuuuure she did,” Jonathan purred, raising his eyebrows repeatedly.

“Girls never wanna watch that,” Lucien assured.

“Hey, that’s not fair,” Neil scoffed, turning to you.  “You like it, right, kid?”

“I, um… yeah,” you mumbled— whatever you had to say to end this conversation.

“Well, did she like it?” Lucien wondered.

“Uh, we… we didn’t actually finish it,” Neil admitted, and Lucien laughed as he shoved him on the shoulder.

You glanced at Jonathan, but he was already looking at you— and you hated the pity in his eyes, so you looked away again.

They kept talking, but you couldn’t hear it over the sound of… whatever sound it makes inside your head when you’re trying not to cry at work.

~

You didn’t do it that same day: it would be too suspicious, and you didn’t want to make a rash decision while you were still so upset.  Part of you was still hoping to get through this phase and go back to the ignorant bliss you’d had so recently.  But you didn’t, and you could tell that Neil sensed something was wrong— you had been sort of avoiding him for a few days while you tried to decide what to do.

But now, you’d decided.  You reached up to knock on his office door— Neil Lewis, P.I. embossed on the frosted glass— but you sighed and dropped your fist, just opening the door instead.

He was so focused on what he was working on that he didn’t look up— and he didn’t even seem to fully process that you had come in, or that you were standing there right in front of him.  Obviously he knew you were standing there, but he let you stand there for an awkwardly long time without asking what you wanted.

You appreciated it, though, ‘cause it gave you a while to watch him uninterrupted, wondering if you might never see him so relaxed again.

“Hey, Neil…” you mumbled, and he didn’t look up from his desk.  “Um…”

Not sure what else to say, you just handed him the paper.  He finally gave you a sliver of his attention to take it, smiling in slight confusion as he looked up at you.  “What is this?”

“It’s my two weeks.”

His smile fell.  “What?”

Oh, you hated doing this— it broke your heart, seeing that look on his face.  “I, uh, I just think it’s better if I—”

“No, wait,” he breathed, standing up, “you— come on, you can’t.  It’s— what’s going on?!”

“Nothing,” you insisted as you shook your head, “I just need, uh— nothing’s going on.”

I just need some space, you were gonna say, but you knew that would just open up more questions.  “Well, are you gonna work somewhere else?” he asked.  “Are you still gonna come by, or will I just see you on movie nights?”

“I— well, I wasn’t sure about movie nights either, actually,” you admitted, and he laughed— but it wasn’t a happy laugh, it was a confused, breathless, almost angry sort of laugh.

“What the fuck are you talking about?!” he snapped.  “I— you’re my best friend!  Did I do something?  ‘Cause listen, I wasn’t serious about you offering to date guys who come into the store— I swear I was joking— god, I’m an asshole—”

“No, Neil, it’s not that, that was weeks ago,” you sighed, crossing your arms.  “I just… think maybe we’ve been friends so long, you know, and it’s like— why?”

“Why?” he repeated.

“Like, maybe we just think we have to be friends because we’ve always been friends,” you continued, “but maybe we should be like normal people and— and grow apart over time.  We were really close in high school because we were the losers that everyone ignored and now… now I think we should just… grow up.”

He looked bewildered— he looked devastated, actually.  He shook his head, breathing out a quick sigh, and you weren’t sure if he was even really listening to you but you kept going.

“Sometimes I think I can’t get a boyfriend because guys are weirded out by you— I mean, not like that,” you backtracked slightly.  “Well, kind of… but I meant, like, they don’t get that we’re just friends, and they think that you’re just trying to sleep with me—”

“Well, fuck them!” he shouted, a little louder than you would’ve preferred since everyone else was on the other side of that door.  “I mean, if they don’t get us, then who fucking cares?  They’re idiots, then!”

“Yeah, but—”

“I mean, you think I’d date a girl who didn’t want me to be around you?” he returned.  “You shouldn’t be with somebody who thinks like that.”

“Well, that’s easy for you to say, but—”

“But what?”

“But I’m lonely, Neil!” you shouted, immediately reaching to cover your mouth after you said it— mostly to hide your quivering lip.  “God,” you choked, lowering your head down to cover your watering eyes instead, “I’m just fucking… tired of being alone, okay?”

“So, what, you’re gonna leave all your friends?” he said, softer.  “Because you want a boyfriend?  That’s kinda… shallow.”

“What do you expect me to do?  Wait around forever?"

"Wait?” he repeated, giving you a confused look.  “Wait on what?"

You bit your lip.  You couldn't answer that— you couldn't admit that you'd been waiting for him all this time.  It's not like he'd asked you to, or expected you to, so you really couldn't be mad at him.  You wanted to be, of course, but you couldn't.  "I just need to leave, Neil," you whispered, knowing you'd sob harder if you spoke any louder.  "I'm sorry.  I just need to leave."

You turned, reaching for the door, and his hand suddenly came to your shoulder. His voice was needy and quiet: "You can't go, kid—"

"Don't fucking call me kid!" you spat, shoving him away as you cried harder.  "I hate when you call me that!"

I love when you call me that.  I hate that I love when you call me that.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I didn't know, okay?  Whatever I did wrong, I'm sorry.  I guess I should let you go, right?  Or I'm just making it worse…”

You weren’t sure what you wanted, really.  You wanted just as much for him to finally give you the dignity you’d been craving and let you leave, as you did for him to grab you and hold you tight and tell you that you had to stay, that he needed you to stay.

“If you wanna quit, you can quit— no two weeks needed, we’ll be fine,” he promised.  “But… are you still gonna come back tomorrow?”

He wasn’t asking about tomorrow— he was asking about every day.  Tomorrow, the next day, the next, the next after that: he was asking you to rot your life away on that couch watching weird old movies with him.  And in a way, that was all you wanted.  That part you really could do forever.  But watching him get new girlfriends, get dumped, get over it— that cycle was just going to get worse and, god forbid, you’d have to see him really truly happy with someone else.  It just wasn’t fair to anyone anymore.

You didn’t answer his question, you just looked at him again.  He looked back at you in disbelief— you hadn’t meant to blindside him like this, but it was the only way to get a semi-clean break.  You hadn’t meant to cry either, though, but that was pretty much unavoidable.  “You’re really leaving?” he said quietly in sober realization, and you bit your shaking lip as you nodded.  He looked around for a moment, as if he’d find answers somewhere in this office, and raised his hands before dropping them defeatedly.  “Why?”

You thought about how to answer that for a while— longer than was natural in a conversation.  There were a thousand things to say, but only one came out, as quiet as a whisper.  “I don’t want to hurt anymore.”

"I never wanted to hurt you," he promised.

"I know," you breathed, finally turning the knob and stepping out.

You tried to act natural, but that was impossible with tears streaming down your face.  "What's up?" Jonathan asked, more neutrally than you expected, and you broke: you hid your face and ran towards the door, bolting out of the store and down the street.  Just before you stepped out you heard Jonathan ask Neil, "Dude, what did you say to her?!"

"I didn't say anything!" Neil insisted, but you didn't care to stay to hear the rest, you just wanted to be as far away from Gumshoe Video as possible.

~

When you heard a knock at the door, you paused Casablanca and brushed the used tissues off your coffee table.  “Who is it?” you called out, sitting up slightly on the couch.

“Um,” you heard Neil’s voice from the other side, and you groaned as you curled up in a ball, “I was just checking in—”

“Go. Away.” you warned sternly.

“Can’t you just let me in?” he whined, but that’s when he tried the knob, and realized the door was unlocked.  You heard the door open and shrunk up tighter into your fetal position as he entered.  

“Hey, I, uh,” he began nervously, raising his hands in a wave but then slapping them down on his legs when he didn’t get a response, “I just… wanted to talk to you…”

You didn’t respond, and in the tense silence, he must have glanced at the TV.

“Good choice,” he noticed.

“Did Jonathan tell you?” you asked right away— because that was the worst thing that could happen.  Him coming here just because he felt bad, because he found out you loved him, not because he really loved you.  The last thing you needed was Neil talking himself into liking you just to keep you from leaving him.

“Tell me what?” Neil said earnestly.  You peeked your head out and looked at him, assessing with narrow eyes.  “Seriously, what does Jonathan know that I don’t?”

“Nothing, sorry,” you shook your head.  “You can, uh… you can say whatever it is you came here to say.”

“Oh, well, I… I kinda didn’t plan that part,” he admitted with an awkward chuckle, scratching the back of his neck.

“You said you wanted to talk to me,” you remembered.

“Yeah, but I didn’t really have any steps after that,” he sighed, and you groaned as you hid your face again.

“God, Neil, that is just like you!” you whined.

“Well, sorry!  You haven’t been talking to me, I wasn’t sure you’d let me in!” he defended.  “What am I supposed to think!”

“You’re supposed to have some kind of… speech, or something!” you explained.

“I can’t believe I’m finally the one saying this,” he said, smirking a bit, “but life isn’t like the movies, kid.”

You showed your face again, and you looked at his, and you couldn’t think of a better word for his expression than just sad.  Not a beautiful word, not a very interesting one, but the best way to describe him right then.  He looked just as miserable as you felt— and that, weirdly, comforted you a little.  You’d wondered if he was just fine without you (not that you really thought he was, with how dramatic he could be).  “Why can’t it be?” you asked quietly.

He sighed and sat down on the couch beside you; you moved your feet closer to make room for him.  “I don’t know,” he admitted, “I kinda thought our life was a movie— best friends, running a small business, getting into shenanigans…”

“Shenanigans?” you repeated incredulously.

“Well, you know, something like that,” he replied.

“It was like a movie, kind of, for a while,” you agreed.  A sad movie about a stupid lonely girl.

“I just always thought—” he began, but you tightened your jaw and interrupted him.

“What was the plan, huh?  What did you really expect to happen?” you snapped.  “That we could just… do this, forever?”

“Yeah, basically!” he shouted back.  “Why not?”

“Why not?!” you repeated.  “Neil, didn’t you think I’d ever find somebody?  Did you think I could fall asleep on your fucking couch with a husband and baby at home?”

“I— I don’t know,” he admitted, losing some of his nerve as he seemed to watch his own logic fall apart.  “I just figured you wouldn’t be with anybody who didn’t, you know, understand us!”

“I don’t understand us anymore!” you whined, setting your legs back down on the floor so you could face him better.  “It’s like— it’s just like it was in high school!  You know, I could’ve been popular if it wasn’t for you!”

“Yeah, if it wasn’t for me, and that pesky ‘who you really are’ thing!” he scoffed.  “Is that what you wanted, to be fake like everyone else?”

“No,” you admitted, “but I’m saying it’s the same thing— I could have a real life, you know, if you weren’t always around!”

“Well, Jesus, I’m sorry for ruining your boring, normal life with my weirdness,” he offered sarcastically.  “See, this whole time, I thought you were cool, but I guess you’re just a poser!”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, hiding your face in your hands, “that’s your dig?  Poser?  Are you fucking fourteen?!”

“I’d rather be a little immature than be fake,” he decided, crossing his arms proudly.

“Okay, well I’d rather be fake than be alone,” you replied, anger melting away into sadness once again; you bit your shaking lip and looked away.

“You shouldn’t have to choose,” he sighed, leaning in a bit closer to you.  “Of course I figured you’d find somebody, someday— somebody who really appreciates you, you know?  Somebody cool.  And he and I could be friends, too— I always figured he’d have a really cool name like… I don’t know, like Augustus or Rutherford or something.”

“Rutherford?” you repeated with a small grimace.

“That’s not the point— I just mean that he’d be kinda pretentious but, like, fun.  And rich.  And you could invite me over to swim in your pool and play croquet and stuff.”

You laughed a little, then sniffled.  Of course that’s what he thought rich people did.

“And you’d have kids, and they’d call me Uncle Neil,” he continued, “and I’d get them on the really cool stuff, you know— none of that Disney Channel crap, they’d be watching indie flicks and German expressionism before they even hit high school; gotta start ‘em early.”

“But what about you?” you asked.  “Where do you end up?”

“I… I don’t know,” he shrugged.  “I guess I just figured I’d always be here.”

You found yourself moving in a little closer— close enough that you had to look up at him slightly even while just sitting on the couch.  “So you really never thought about it?” you pressed, biting your lip, and you clarified even though it kind of seemed like he knew what you meant.  “Us, together?”

“God, are you kidding?” he snorted.  “Of course I thought about it, I mean… yeah, I thought about it…”

His voice changed a little the second time he said it, and your heartbeat sped up just a bit.

“But every time I thought about it, I just got so— I don’t know— scared, I guess,” he said quietly.  

“Scared?” you repeated.

“‘Cause, you know… it’s me and you,” he explained, smiling a little.  “It’s us.  And I figured that if you and I got together… that would be, you know… that would be it.”

As you looked at him, you wondered if he could see everything in your eyes right then.

“And what if I wasn’t good enough for you, right?  What if I fucked this up, like I fuck up everything, and then we’re not even friends?” he sighed, shaking his head.  “And then— and then what am I supposed to do?  Just, like, not have you in my life?”

You opened your mouth to promise him that he’d always be in your life, that you could never really go on without him— even if you’d just threatened that and stormed out of the video store— but instead, only a wistful sigh came out.

“C’mon— I don’t even know who I am without you, kid,” he laughed, and your heart jumped.

“Okay,” you agreed quietly, “but what if you don’t fuck it up?  What if we’re perfect together, and happy, and it just makes sense?”

“Then that’s even worse!” he announced with a grin, and you laughed.

“What?” you giggled, letting him pull you a little closer.

“Then we get together, and you move in, and we get married and have a bunch of babies— and then that’s it!  Me and you, heading towards oblivion,” he described, pointing forward with his hand like it was a straight path to the end, “being, you know… grown-ups.”

You dropped your forehead onto his shoulder, laughing in exasperation.

“I know it’s stupid,” he admitted, “but that’s… that’s what scared me, I think.  And I guess I just liked how things were so much— well, that’s not totally true.  There were days where I thought I really couldn’t take it anymore, that I just had to be with you, but…”

“But you’re kind of a pussy?” you finished for him, and he laughed as his arm wrapped around you.

“Yeah,” he agreed, “very much so, actually.”

You looked up at him, and the way he looked back at you was painfully perfect.  And now that you saw it, you realized it wasn’t new— he’d looked at you like this before, when he woke you up on the store couch in the morning or when you made fun of him in front of everybody or when you helped him pick what to wear for a party.  How come you hadn’t seen it before?

It seemed like you’d been scared, too.  You could’ve just told him then, you could’ve just kissed him— but maybe you were both a little too afraid to rock the boat.  “I mean, your little future plan sounds nice, but…” you hummed, “I don’t want Rutherford.”

“Don’t rule out Augustus,” he warned, tilting his head and pointing his finger at you, and you laughed softly.

“I want you, Neil,” you breathed, feeling so many emotions at once as you finally said what you’d been terrified to admit for the better part of a decade.

He took a deep breath, too— like he’d been waiting a long time to hear that.  “I want you too, kid,” he admitted.  You could’ve asked him to stop calling you that now, but since it made your knees a little weak (thank god you were sitting down already), you let it slide for now.

“Okay, well,” you decided, scooting closer to him on the couch again, “let’s agree on something.”

“Okay,” he whispered.

“Let’s get together,” you said, trying to keep your nerve, “and I’ll move in, and we’ll get married and have a bunch of babies— but we’ll never grow up.”

He laughed a little, finally seeming a bit nervous, and reached up to touch your face: his knuckles rested on your cheek while his thumb pet your temple gently.  “Okay,” he said again.

Your heart raced as he moved in a little closer, turning himself towards you on the couch, and your eyes moved back and forth from his eyes to his lips to his eyes to his lips— he’s gonna kiss me.

Just when you were about to shut your eyes and let it happen, he pulled back slightly.  “Sorry,” he laughed nervously, “I— sorry.  Been thinking about this since I was seven, it’s a lot of pressure.”

Your heart warmed to hear him admit that.  “All these years and you never thought to just man up and kiss me?” 

“I did kiss you!” he defended.

“New Year’s doesn’t count,” you scoffed.

“Good,” he sighed, “because then there’s still a chance for our first kiss to be perfect.”

“Like the movies?” you asked hopefully.

“Yeah,” he agreed softly, holding your chin and tilting it back gently.  “Like the movies.”

It did feel like a movie; you could’ve sworn you heard dramatic background music alongside the pounding in your ears.  You took a deep breath in through your nose as you kissed him back, grabbing him by the shirt and pulling him closer.  There was no point in acting coy now, he knew the truth— and you were totally helpless, this was all you’d been imagining for years and it was real: in that way, it was so much better than a movie.

His hands found your back and pulled you into him, until you hopped up and straddled his lap— holding his face, running your fingers through his hair, kissing him as desperately as you could get away with.

He certainly didn’t seem to mind, in fact he just held you tighter and kissed you harder and even pulled your hips down into his lap where you gasped at the feeling of a firm bulge in his jeans.  “You’re already hard?” you noticed, pulling back just enough to speak, and he laughed breathlessly.

“Jesus, you’re already making fun of me,” he coughed.

“I’m not!  Sorry,” you laughed, “I just— we only started kissing a minute ago—”

“Yeah, but— come on, kid, you’re gorgeous,” he sighed, “and you can’t pull me towards you with my shirt like that without expecting a reaction…”

“I really wasn’t trying to get you worked up,” you cooed, “I just need you that bad.”

“Fuck,” he laughed, running his hands up your back, “you can’t say stuff like that either…”

“I can’t?” you pressed with a smirk as you ran your hands over his chest through the t-shirt.  “Or what?”

“Orrr I’m not gonna have very much patience,” he explained with a grin, “and I’ll just have to make love to you on this couch right now.”

“Oh, make love,” you repeated, shimmying your shoulders a bit, “you don’t have to be so formal, Neil.  You can just fuck me.”

He growled and grabbed you tight, throwing you down on the couch as you beamed and he descended upon you.

You tugged at each other’s clothes hungrily: you had on some baggy old shirt that he tossed aside quickly, he was wearing band merch that he barely stopped kissing you long enough to let you get over his head.  You’d seen him shirtless all the time when you went to the beach together or he just changed shirts in front of you (‘cause guys can just do that, your sanity be damned), you’d even felt him shirtless before due to playful wrestling in the pool, but wow it felt different to have his bare torso pressed against you, and you loved it already.

You know what else felt different?  Neil staring down, mouth slightly open as he panted, at your tits.  You almost felt self-conscious until he grabbed your waist and latching his mouth onto one needily.  

“Fuck,” you groaned, gasping as the tip of his tongue flicked over the bud of your nipple.  His hand squeezed the other one with just the right amount of roughness— his hands were big, and hot, and you’d put quite a lot of consideration into how they’d feel running over your skin.  They were lovely, as were his fingers pinching lightly at your nipple until you squirmed.  “Neil, c’mon—” you started to beg.

“Hold on,” he groaned against your skin, hot breaths tickling where his spit wet your breast, “been waiting a while to do this.  Wanna savor it.”

Well, he could savor all he wanted, but you had been waiting too long to have any patience left; you reached down and got his belt open with a little finagling, pushing his jeans down his legs with your feet.  His boxers, annoyingly, stayed up, but he smiled at you and started to pull your shorts down, too.

So there you were, laying together on your sofa— him on top of you, you staring up at him in amazement— both in just your underwear.  And socks, technically, but you weren’t really worrying about those at the moment.

“Are we gonna do this like they do in the movies, too?” you asked with a breathless laugh.

“They don’t show this part in the movies,” he replied quickly.

“Not those movies…”

He got your drift and grinned a little, but shook his head.  “No, not like that.  I want this to be, you know, special…”

“Neil, I’ve been in love with you since I was twelve.  It’s gonna be special no matter what,” you promised, holding his face for emphasis.  “Doesn’t mean it can’t be, you know, kinky.”

He raised an eyebrow in intrigue.  “Kinky?” he repeated.  “Would you mind clarifying that for me?”

You bit your lip and looked away shyly.  “Well, you know, I’ve thought about, like… like maybe how it would be if you tied me to the bed…”

He grinned.  “Alright,” he replied expectantly, waiting for the list to go on.

“Or if you bent me over your desk at the store,” you added, heart racing with nervousness to admit that fantasy, “and had to cover my mouth to keep me quiet…”

“Fuck,” he groaned in agreement.  “What else?”

“O-or, you know, that thing where you just keep someone inside you for hours,” you breathed, “and don’t even move, just keep it, you know, warm— we could watch a movie like that—”

“Jesus, kid,” he sighed, “you, um, you really thought this through…”

“Yeah…” you admitted, moaning softly and holding tighter onto his back as he leaned down and kissed your neck.

“I had no idea you were so dirty,” he laughed against your skin.  “Whatever movie we watch like that, it better be shit ‘cause I have no chance of paying any attention.”

“W-well, you said you thought about it too,” you remembered.  “What did you think this would be like?”

“I didn’t think about that, I’m too romantic,” he denied proudly as he hovered above you again, “I just thought about, you know, taking you on dates and buying you flowers and stuff.”

“O-oh,” you choked, embarrassed.

“Just kidding,” he winked, “I’m not a saint.  I thought about how you’d look riding me.”

You giggled slightly, glancing away as you were forced to imagine that, too.  

“And how these lips would look,” he continued, softening his voice and running his thumb over your slack bottom lip, “wrapped around my cock—”

“Fuck,” you whispered, nearly overwhelmed by the look in his eyes.  “I thought about that too…”

He growled and kissed you hard, reaching down to roughly tug your panties lower.  “God, I wish I had the patience for that now,” he mumbled, “but I just need to be inside you—”

“Okay,” you agreed happily, pressing yourself against him as you hugged him closer.

Sliding your hands down his back, you pushed his boxers down his hips and gasped when his cock sprung out and brushed over your inner thigh.

You reached down and grabbed a hold of him— mostly so you’d have a chance to get some idea of what he was about to put in you— and you both gasped for different reasons.  You couldn’t speak for him, really, but for you it was a sound of disbelief at how big he was.  Not, you know, concerningly massive or anything— you were thankful for that, in fact— but thick and long and curved and oh look you were already guiding that fat tip to your opening because you couldn’t wait anymore.

Clearly he was struggling with a similar impatience because as soon as he felt your entrance he shoved his hips forward and pushed inside��� finding some resistance, just from his size, but then you went limp under him and just let it happen.

You were both breathing heavy like you’d run a mile, when you’d barely moved at all; he was only halfway in, and you already felt so full…

“Fuck,” he moaned at the feeling, “you’re so wet, fuck—”

But then he pushed in the rest of the way and you winced just from the intensity of it— it didn’t hurt, really, but it was… a lot.  In every sense of the word.  "Oh my god," you gasped, holding on tightly to his arms.  

He moaned louder, dropping his head into the crook of your neck; he put a hand on the top of your head to keep you steady (and close) as he pumped into you a bit faster already.  “You’re so fucking wet,” he said again— it would’ve made you self-conscious that he focused on that so much if it wasn’t obvious that it was driving him wild.  But you couldn’t really justify pointing out his sudden boner before when you were soaked like this, could you?

Fortunately, it seemed like he had long since forgotten about that…

It seemed like he never looked away from you, hardly ever even shut his eyes— he just watched your face, with a few detours to look at the way your breasts bounced with each thrust.

The pace was steady and simple, there were no fancy moves or dirty fantasies: he just kissed you sometimes, and watched you the rest of the time.  You didn’t say much until you started to feel the pressure building in your gut— up until that point, nothing needed to be said— but the way he was making you feel suddenly compelled you to start running your mouth.

“So good,” you blurted out, and he groaned a little in agreement.  “You feel so good, Neil…”

“Yeah?” he confirmed.  “Feels like we were made for each other.”

That was not only the most perfect thing you’d ever heard, but undeniably true: the curve of his cock seemed to fit right inside you; he was just big enough to push to the end of you without making your stomach hurt; every movement stretched your walls exactly how you’d craved for longer than you wanted to remember; and you were soaking him, and probably yourself, it was like you just couldn’t stop.  Every movement made you feel more insatiable and yet more perfectly satisfied— it was impossible, but it was happening.  That’s how it felt: impossibly good.

“Doesn’t it?” he asked, like he was worried you didn’t agree, but you only hadn’t said anything because you knew how loud you would be if you opened your mouth.

“Yes!” you cried out, dropping your head back— see, that’s exactly what you were worried would happen, but he just growled and fucked you deeper.  “Yes, fuck yes, Neil—”

“Uh huh?” he encouraged you gruffly, holding you a little tighter, watching you with darker eyes.

“Yes, oh my god,” you choked out, whining and digging your nails into his back sort of unintentionally.  “S-so deep…”

“Yeah,” he agreed, “and you take it so good— you feel so fuckin’ perfect, kid…”

Wow, yeah, you really should’ve hated being called that in a moment like this, but you enjoyed it a little too much.  "Fuck, m'gonna—" you began your warning.

"Come," he finished for you— no, it was a demand.  "I want you to.  I wanna see it."

"O-okay," you breathed, "just don't… don't stop…"

He shook his head, fucking you a little faster as he panted.  "Not gonna stop," he promised, "not until you're so fucking full—"

"God, Neil," you whined, the pressure in your gut building more and more, making your legs tighten around his hips.

"Until I've given you every drop of come," he continued with a grunt, "and it's fucking dripping out of you—"

"Fuck."

"For days—"

"Fuck—"

"Tomorrow at work—" he mentioned specifically, and your back arched as it hit you; jolts of energy crawled up and down your back, your walls clenching rhythmically around him.  

You definitely said something but you were too fucked out to keep track of it.  How was it your job to know what you said?!  It was something with oh my god and Neil somewhere in there for sure, but that was all you knew.  He didn’t even slow down, by the way, just keeping his pace and mumbling praises to you with a rough voice.

As the raw pleasure faded, you found a new feeling swelling within you— a sudden mix of all sorts of emotion, growing faster than you could fight it off.  You’d never felt like this, at least in this specific way, but you knew all too well what was coming: you were about to cry.

You weren’t sad, you were anything but sad, but apparently there were just too many pent up feelings and recently-released hormones coursing through you for you to do anything but cry.  It happened so suddenly that you couldn’t even think about how you should handle it— if you should warn him or suddenly get up and run away so he wouldn’t see you like that.  You were terrified he would be confused and overwhelmed by it, but you were out of options; you bit your lip as it started to shake, tightening your hold on one of his shoulders, and sniffled involuntarily as tears welled in your eyes.

“Oh god, baby, are you okay?” he breathed, his movements coming to a halt, and you nodded your head feverishly.

“I’m okay,” you whimpered, “I’m fine— I’m really good, I’m just—”

He sat up and pulled you up with him, sort of perching you in his lap, and you looked away as you tried to will yourself to stop crying but failed miserably.  “Do you want me to stop?” he asked softly.

You shook your head, hugging him so he wouldn’t see your wet face.  “N-no, don’t—”

“What’s going on?” he asked, smiling a little even as his voice was heavy with concern; he kissed the side of your head as he pet your hair gently.

“I’m just— m’just really happy,” you breathed shakily.  “I just can’t believe this is happening— in a good way.”

He beamed and pulled back to look at your face, holding your cheeks and wiping your tears away with his thumbs.  “Yeah,” he agreed, “I know— that’s how it feels for me, too.”

You choked on another sob, and he soothed you softly, holding you a little closer.  “Don’t stop, please,” you whispered, “you said you wouldn’t—”

“Yeah, but I gotta make sure you’re okay,” he laughed.

“I am, really,” you insisted, with a sniffle, “it’s happy tears, I promise.  Y-you can keep going, unless all the crying is turning you off…”

“No, it’s okay, kid,” he promised with a little laugh, leaning down to look into your eyes when you tried to glance down, “hey— it’s sweet, okay?  And I always thought you were kinda cute when you cried— um, not in a creepy way, but, y’know, like… when we watched sad movies and stuff, and you would hide your face in my shirt—”

You whimpered and shoved your face into the crook of his neck.

“Kinda like that…” he mumbled, rubbing your back as he laid you back down on the couch.  “Hey, shh, it’s okay… m’gonna move again, alright?”

You only nodded a little, holding onto him tightly, still crying but managing to get a moan out when he carefully thrusted into you again.  He found his pace again, though slower and gentler than before, and lifted himself partially to hover above you.  Pushing away some hair that had clung to your face, sticky with sweat and tears, he smiled down at you.

“Hey,” he whispered, “look up at me…”

Afraid to face him like this, you hesitated but blinked quickly as you looked back at him.

“You look beautiful,” he promised quietly.  “This is how it was supposed to be, okay?  This is how it always should’ve been.”

You nodded in agreement, starting to cry a little harder— though it was pure joy, there was no other way to describe it.

“And this is how it’s gonna be now,” he assured, “you and me.”

“Yeah,” you whispered under your breath, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair.  He kissed you again softly, and the rest of it was like that: more gentle and patient, shockingly tender, until you two were just melting into each other and you shamelessly gave into every emotion and sensation he guided you through.

~

Today, the store was running a special on cop movies— so you and Neil were, obviously, dressed appropriately in fake uniforms he got on clearance at the costume shop.  Was yours technically a reconstituted ‘sexy cop’ with fishnets and a tight latex skirt?  Yes, but you at least ditched the fuzzy handcuffs…

You were sitting on the front counter, swinging your legs and watching Neil as he roamed the store, your eyes lingering on the way those navy blue pants did his ass more than a few favors… the whole outfit was working for you, shockingly.  The badge, the aviator shades— you were even beginning to see the appeal of the fake mustache.

He seemed to notice you looking, and he smirked at you proudly as he set down the tape he’d been holding.

“Hey,” Neil purred, taking off his sunglasses somewhat dramatically— he sauntered up to you, putting his hands on the counter on either side of your legs.  He had that sparkle in his eye as he looked you up and down, and you bit your lip.  

“Hey,” you returned, reaching up to drape your arms over his shoulders.

“You look cute,” he hummed at you proudly.  “Who picked out this outfit for you?”

“Oh, that would be my super weird boss,” you smirked, your fingers tracing the neckline of Neil’s semi-unbuttoned uniform shirt and the slightest hint of chest hair peeking out from it.  “He makes me dress up to promote our specials.”

“He’s probably got a crush on you,” Neil suggested with a grin.

“You think so?” you cooed as you leaned down, kissing him with a smile still on your lips— but you made a little face and pulled back.  “The mustache feels weird…”

“Mm, but you’re still gonna kiss me, right?” he assumed proudly— he knew damn well you found him totally irresistible.

“Yeah,” you admitted with a giggle as you kissed him again: deeper, and longer, but still slow and sweet.

The front door jingled as Jonathan walked in.  “Woah, hey, workplace!” he groaned, covering his eyes for a minute, and you laughed as you broke away from the kiss, shoving Neil aside and hopping off the counter.  “How are our resident lovebirds doing?”

“Horny,” Lucien answered in a thoroughly unamused tone.

“Well, why don’t you let us take over for a couple hours?” Jonathan suggested with a shrug.  “Me and Luc can manage and you two can, you know, take a long lunch and shake each other down.”

“What?  No,” you grimaced, shuddering at the idea of Jonathan and Lucien waiting for you two here and knowing exactly what you were doing a few blocks down at Neil’s apartment.

“Alright,” Neil agreed at the same time, but quickly changed his answer to a rushed “n-no, yeah, definitely not.”

Lucien smirked and Jonathan shook his head.  "Suit yourselves," he replied as he walked away.

You planned to walk away, too, and finally get back to work, but Neil wrapped an arm around you and pulled you into him.  You smiled and hugged him back, leaning your head against his chest with a satisfied sigh.

When he let you go, you lingered for just a moment longer before finding the strength to pull away and get back to work— yet again, he stopped you, this time by touching your face to turn it back to him and softly mumbling ‘hey’.

“What is it?” you asked quietly as you looked up at him expectantly.

“I love you, kid,” he said gently, petting your cheek for a second.

“Wh-what way do you mean that?” you wondered, and he furrowed his brows with a smile.  “Like— we used to say that sometimes,” you went on, awkwardly stammering as you looked down again, “but, you know… we never meant it like that—”

He interrupted you with a soft whisper of your name, getting your attention once more, tilting your head until your gaze met his.  “I only ever meant it one way,” he admitted.  “That way.”

one year later…

You wandered through the crowded video store, doing lots of waving and greeting and patting of shoulders— thanking everyone for coming out to celebrate with you.

A gaggle of women suddenly descended on you with giddy delight, and you took turns hugging them and repeating your practiced line about how you were so glad they could make it.

“You look great,” Helen informed you, and you dismissed it with a wave of your hand.  “No, really, it’s so cute!  You look good in white.”

“You think so?  I was worried it would be weird,” you admitted as you looked down at the silk cocktail dress.

“No, it makes perfect sense,” Priyanka said, “and it’s so cool!  Is it real vintage?”

“Yeah, you know how we are,” you shrugged and laughed.

“Well, let’s see the ring!” Helen insisted with a squeal, and all three women yelped happily when you brandished your left hand for them to get a good look at it. 

“Oh my god, it’s gorgeous!” Georgia gasped.

“Thank you,” you beamed, “I can’t imagine where Neil got the money for it— god knows it wasn’t here, I’ve seen our margins!”

The ladies all seemed to grab your hand at once and yank it closer, tilting your finger to watch the stones sparkle in the light.  As they fawned over it, you looked over and found Neil watching you, beer in hand, looking totally smitten.  You waved with your free hand and got a small wave back, making you smile even wider.

You split away from the girls after a while, soon stopped by one of Neil’s only friends who actually had this whole adult thing mostly figured out: Marcia, though her husband and baby were across the store meeting the many, many guests who wanted a chance to hold the precious thing.

“I always knew he loved you,” Marcia insisted as she winked at you.  “I’m so glad he finally figured it out.”

“Yeah, me too,” you agreed with a laugh.  “It’s been great— like, really great.  All the fun we had before, but—”

“But you get to have him all to yourself?” she assumed with a grin.

“Well, sure,” you admitted, “but not just that.  He’s changed a lot, you know.  He’s still the same Neil I always loved but…”

You trailed off, but she nodded like she understood.  “But he’s grown up,” she finished for you.

“We got together on the condition that we wouldn’t grow up,” you explained, “that we wouldn’t change and get, you know, boring.”

Marcia rolled her eyes, making you feel much younger than her than you were.  “That’s what you figure out eventually,” she replied, “that growing up is a lot more fun when you’re growing together.”

Her unexpectedly sage advice was still in your head almost an hour later, when you and Neil reunited at the back of the room.

“You ready?” he asked you softly, and you nodded with a smile.

“Been ready for this for a long time,” you replied.

Neil got the crowd’s attention, motioning for the guests to gather in a vague semi-circle facing you and him; you squeezed his hand, feeling your heartbeat pick up just a bit.

“We just wanted to thank you all for coming,” Neil explained, “I mean, it’s so special to have everyone we love gathered in our favorite place…”

You looked out at the crowd filling the store and noticed that, all together, it was a lot more loved ones than you realized you had.

“And with that in mind, we do have a little announcement,” he continued with a beaming smile.

“Pregnant!” Lucien blurted out, and you glared at him as a fellow guest slapped him on the arm.

“Not that,” Neil laughed, “maybe I shouldn’t have said it that way but, uh, anyways…”

“This isn’t just our engagement party,” you admitted with a grin, “it’s our wedding!”

You pulled the mini-veil out from where you’d hidden it in a fake VHS clamshell and quickly clipped it on, the crowd clapping and gasping, and you motioned for Jonathan to come forward to do the honors.

“The bride and groom have prepared special, joint vows,” Jonathan explained as he stepped up beside you both, pulling notecards out of his pocket.  You and Neil faced each other, holding your hands together between you; he even swung your hands a little as he smiled at you, and you laughed softly.  “Do you take each other in marriage, for life, no takebacksies?”

“We do,” you both replied.

“Do you swear to tell the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?” he asked, and you gave him a confused look.  “Sorry— wrong line.  Watching too much Law & Order…”

Your spectating friends and family chuckled, though some seemed nervous with Jonathan making a joke like that during your literal wedding ceremony— but you thought it was perfect.  You wouldn’t have asked Jonathan to officiate if you didn’t want some ill-timed, goofy joke.

“Do you promise to keep each other close in body and spirit, to share your joy and pain, and to face every day together as best friends and life partners?”

“We do.”

“And do you swear,” Jonathan went on, suddenly getting very serious and lowering his voice, “to always, without fail… be kind and rewind?”

The crowd chuckled, and you and Neil agreed enthusiastically: “We do.”

“Then, by the power vested in me by a very shady website that I think might have been some kind of minister license scam out of Estonia… I now pronounce you husband and wife,” Jonathan beamed, throwing his notecards in the air triumphantly.  “Now kiss each other, ya idiots!”

It was one of those wedding kisses that went on a little too long, a few whistles and whoops from the crowd alerting you that it might be too steamy for such a public moment— but damn, was it perfect.  As much as you just wanted to grab onto your husband and never let go, both of you were instantly swarmed by loved ones wanting hugs and to offer their congratulations.  You obviously obliged, thanking everyone you could for being a part of this impromptu ceremony… and basking in the joy when most of them said something about how they always expected this or couldn’t believe it took so long.

“Congrats, man,” Jonathan mumbled to Neil as he grabbed him by the shoulder.  “I think this is the part where she fucks me and kills Lucien.”

“Shut up,” Neil scoffed as he shoved Jonathan away, but he couldn’t stop smiling— and he couldn’t stop staring at you. Here's looking at you, kid.

[slut4thebroken]

Pathetic

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Stepbro!Neil Lewis x reader

Summary | Your stepbrother is weird and annoying, but you’ve found a way to make good use of him.

Warnings | Smut, dub con? but like not really, incest technically, dry humping, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, he’s very pathetic, and subby, reader is very mean.

Words | 1.2 k

Notes | Idk in my head they’re both in college but still living at home lol. Also once again, I can’t think of a title😭

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

Kinktober | day 17: degradation

You thought your step brother was super weird and honestly a little annoying… but there were some redeeming qualities. He’ll pretty much do whatever you say— he’s only a few months younger, but he acts like it. Even though he’s taller and probably stronger, you can still boss him around like an older sister should. Then there was… his other useful quality. 

“You’re such a fucking pervert.” You spat, almost disgusted, and he whined behind you as his hips sped up. You were currently on your hands and knees on his bed, wearing just a shirt and panties. Neil was behind you, holding your hips still so he could dry hump you with his clothed dick in the cleft of your ass, over your underwear. “This is what gets you off? Humping your sister like a dog?” You snickered. 

“Oh god…” He moaned, rutting against you harder and faster. “Fuck, I- I’m gonna come.” He whimpered and you barked out a laugh. 

“Already?” His whines got louder and louder until his hips stilled a little and he was moaning and whimpering instead. You could feel his come soaking through both pairs of underwear and his cock twitching as it stayed pressed between your cheeks. “That’s all it takes? You just rub your dick on something and come in less than five minutes?” 

“Stop..” He whined pathetically. 

“Get off me.” You huffed, leaning up to push him down on the bed. You got him on his back, then straddled his hips and began grinding on him again, this time with your cunt.  

“Wait- wait,” He choked out, grabbing your hips. He let out a pained whine at the overstimulation, only encouraging you. 

“Don’t be such a baby.” You started grinding down on him harder, mostly to make it hurt more for him, but also to finally get yourself close to the edge. 

“Please stop..” He threw his head back and squeezed his eyes shut, barely coping with the overstimulation. 

“God- do you ever shut up?” You groaned, leaning over him to put a hand over his mouth. The new angle was stimulating your clit even more, making you curse under your breath. 

He sobbed out a moan behind your hand and looked up at you with glossy eyes, his brows scrunched together in pain. Pink dusted his cheeks and you couldn’t help but enjoy the sight. 

He’s never looked more pathetic. 

“Y’know, if you actually knew how to make a girl come, I wouldn’t have to do this.” You said bitterly, making him whine. “Of course I had to get stuck with a fucking virgin for a step brother. Maybe I’ll go find one of your friends— see if they have better stamina than a fucking teenager.” His hips bucked under yours, making you smirk a little. 

“Oh, do you like that?” You sneered. “Is that what you are, a cuck? Should I let you watch your friends do a better job than you ever could?” In response, he whimpered and shook his head. 

“You’re so fucking useless. This isn’t even worth it— I’m just going to get off by myself.” You started to lean up and when he reached out for you in a panic, you slapped his hands away. 

“No! I- I’m sorry. I can help.” 

“Can you?” You scoffed. “I don’t think your pathetic excuse for a cock will help me very much.” 

“My— my mouth..” You huffed, but laid down on your back, making him frown when your come soaked underwear got on his sheets. 

“Get to it then.” You snapped, bringing him into motion. He laid down between your legs and wrapped his arms under your thighs, then pulled your underwear to the side. He started with slow kisses and licks, quickly testing your patience. “Why am I coming like this and not with my vibrator?” You asked sarcastically, egging him on. Which got him to start moving more enthusiastically, sucking on your clit and slurping up your arousal. 

“God, you even eat pussy like a fucking virgin.” You muttered, sounding almost bored. He whined against you, sucking on your clit even harder and occassionally fucking his tongue inside you. 

You waited for him to bring you to the edge, but it was taking a while, so you decided to grab your phone and watch something to help you get there. The movement of you picking up the device caught his attention and he looked up at you without removing his mouth from your pussy. When moans started playing through the speaker, he immediately frowned and his ministrations faltered. 

“I let you come. Do the same for me or I’ll tell your mom about how much of a pervert her ‘precious baby boy’ is.” You snapped. He stared at you with slightly wide eyes, then reluctantly put his attention back on your cunt. 

The porn was definitely helping, as was knowing how degraded he probably felt. After a few minutes, he pulled back and you looked down at him, raising your brows. 

“My tongue is getting sore.” He explained with a pout, making you scoff. 

“You’re the one who begged to eat me out. Stop fucking complaining.” Using your free hand, you grabbed his hair and yanked his head back down, burying his face in your pussy. You held him in place like that for a few minutes, but when you started nearing the edge, you put his head in a leg lock, keeping his mouth pressed firmly against your cunt, giving him no other choice but to make you come. 

When you finally fell over the edge, you squeezed his head with your leg even tighter and your back arched off the bed. He was moaning against you and humping the bed, apparently enjoying your orgasm almost as much as you. 

After the pleasure faded, you let out a heavy breath and sagged back onto the bed, closing your eyes. Neil let out a soft sound against your pussy, so you sighed, but let your leg fall back down onto the bed, allowing him to pull off. The bottom half of his face was completely covered in his spit and your arousal, and he panted heavily for a few seconds as he wiped his face with the back of his hand. 

“Can I please come again?” He asked timidly, waiting until you had mostly recovered from your orgasm to ask. 

You looked down at him, then rolled your eyes and reached for your phone again. “Whatever. Hump my leg I guess.” He whined quietly, but straddled your thigh and started rutting against you while you scrolled through your phone, waiting impatiently for him to finish. 

Soon enough, his breathing was starting to pick up and his hips were moving more desperately as he neared the edge. “Fuck.. I’m gonna come.” He choked out, humping you frantically. When the front door slammed shut though, both of you froze. 

“Can you help bring in the groceries?” His mom called out from downstairs. 

“Be right there!” You yelled back, then sat up, making him whine loudly. 

“No- please.. I’m so close.” 

“Not my problem, loser. Get off.” You spat, pushing him off your leg onto the bed. You stood up, but paused when you heard quiet whimpering. More come was leaking from his underwear and he quickly reached down to try and salvage the rest of his ruined orgasm. You watched him stroke his erection through the fabric, getting his come all over his hands and crotch, making an even bigger mess. 

“You’re so fucking gross.” You scoffed, making him whine pathetically. Before leaving, you picked up his shirt from the floor and wiped the rest of his come from your ass, then put your shorts back on and walked out. 

[cillianhead]

★ MASTERLIST ★

Hey this is the masterlist with all the fics i've written so far (and will be updated every time i upload a new fic)

Cillian Murphy x Reader:

Put The Beatles On, Light The Candles, Go Back To Bed (fluff)

Three And A Half Months (smut)

Illicit Affairs (smut, dad's best friend!Cillian)

In Your Car, I'm A Star (smut)

Wind In My Hair, I Was There (angst + smut)

Lazy Sundays (smut)

A New Pair of Glasses (smut) (part one)

Red Eyes (smut) (part two)

Strawberry Syrup (smut)

Jonathan Crane x Reader:

Sitting Pretty (smut)

Nothing's Gonna Hurt You Baby (fluff + angst + comfort)

Are You Afraid of The Dark? (smut)

Neil Lewis x Reader:

Pussy-Whipped (smut)

You're The Only One Who Makes Me Feel Alive (smut + angst)

Slut (smut)

Thomas Shelby x Reader:

Show Me How Much You Need Me (smut)

Ambrosia (smut)

Look What You Made Me Do (smut)

Manhandled (smut)

Twitterpated (Fluff)

The Brim (smut)

Emmett (A Quiet Place II) x Reader:

Scream For Me (smut)

Jackson Rippner x Reader

Your Dog (smut)

Oppenheimer x Reader

- Oppie is a sub? (smut)

don't see something you think should be there? send me requests and i'll write em <3

[pennyserenade]

crimson & clover | neil lewis x reader

summary | what begins as a innocent night at the club turns into something a bit more adventurous for you and the man who owns your favorite movie store. rating | (explicit) tags/warnings | alcohol mention, smut, explicit smut, fingering, semi-public sex, praise, unprotected, dirty talk (non degrading), neil is lovely! polite and respectful! word count | 2.8k+ a/n | i put on a 2000s club playlist and got to work. this is not beta'd because life is crazy but i hope you enjoy it. i dedicate this to @burt-reynolds, for all of her lovely 2000s aesthetics and her lovely vibes, and @theredviper for being so supportive and lovely always.

“Holy shit,” Neil mutters, his eager fingers gripping tightly onto your hips.

A thrum of music carries from outside the bathroom, where you’ve both left your respective friend groups in the haze of your alcohol infused ardor. As Neil lines your hips up to his clothed crotch, you make eye contact in the cloudy mirror above the sink. His gray blue eyes glow under the harsh lighting - wet and earnest as one of his hands trails to your backside, drawing up your short skirt. The heart pendant on your neck dangles dangerously close to the porcelain as he pushes your legs further apart, knocking one with his knee as a soft groan falls from his lips. The heat his body emits onto your own is enough to make you let out a shaky breath.

You told yourself you wouldn’t do this. Swore to it, in fact. It was the thing your friends constantly got at you for--the way you’d stop at Neil’s store twice a week, flirt with either him or Jonathan, and come out with your movies half price. You weren’t ever supposed to fuck one of them. It was contrary to your entire relationship, giving him what you were supposed to tease forever. But God, you couldn’t help it—not tonight.

When you had entered the club, Neil had already been there with Jonathan, but you hadn’t seen him until about thirty minutes in. Over the sound of intoxicated voices trying to speak over one another and loud, pulsing music, you’d locked eyes. It had begun as an innocuous greeting - a slight nod of your heads and demure smiles, nothing more. But there’d been more drinks and more talking, and your two friend groups drew closer together as the night went on.

It had happened when Jonathan had his hand on your friend’s thigh and his tongue down her throat. You and Neil were standing awkwardly next to them, pretending you weren’t in the presence of two people who were treading dangerously close to fucking in a public space. Neil held a beer in his hand, his face flushed from the heat and most likely the drink, and you were working your way slowly through another Vodka cranberry. He’d said something you couldn’t hear and when you asked him to repeat it, he did - drawing his face nearer to your own. The setting invited your next actions: his lips on yours, the drinks abandoned on the sticky countertop of your table in favor of touching each other.

He fumbles with his jeans behind you now, the clack of his belt making your heart thud. “I don’t usually do this,” you giggle, hanging your head to look at him behind. His blunt fingers work diligently, pushing down his pants to his knees. You smile; the blue of his boxers does little to conceal his erection.

You look back to the mirror. He gives you a boyish smile, warm and lopsided, before reaching down between your bodies and sliding your thong to the side.

“Mm,” he says, caging his bottom lip between his teeth. In a gruff voice, he adds, “God, you’re fucking glistening, baby. Look at you. Just—“ His fingers part your lips, his eyebrows disappearing beneath his fringe as he coats his fingers with your slick, “look at that.”

The rich baritone of his voice coaxes unheard levels of confidence out of you; canting your hips back, you draw his fingers over your core, giving him unexpressed permission to enter you with the two fingers he’s been working through your cunt. The mirror gives you access to his features, impervious to propriety as they are: the sheen of sweat on his temples, the twist of his freckled lips, the slow bob of his throat as he teases a finger around your hole. You clench around the idea of him and he is good enough to sink a single finger in. With his other hand, he props your hips up.

In the mirror, you meet each other. The sweet, endearing nerd you had twisted your hair for in the video store is suddenly transformed into the stuff of romance books. Or a Hitchcock film. Yeah - Neil would like that reference. A positively Hitchcockian experience, the smolder of desire flashing dangerously in his eyes, like Gregory Peck with Ingrid Bergman in Spellbound. Like Cary Grant in—

“Oh.” Your nails grip onto the sink as his other hand slips down your front. Thrusting his thick finger slowly out of you, he presses two fingers over your clit, his cool lips grazing over your exposed shoulder. In this position - with his one hand focused on your clit and the other on your core - Neil’s body is completely enveloping your own. The poke of his erection on your ass is inspiring - not that you really need any inspiration. His fingers are more skilled than they have the right to be, curling inside of you, finding every nerve along your walls as he brushes, teasingly, over your sensitive clit.

When you think it can’t get any better — your body leaning back invitingly into his own, your mouth dry and desperate, the peak of your desire building and building, Neil enters another finger. His warm tongue finds a sensitive spot of your neck, and you grip the sink with renewed ferocity, feeling a dangerous, overwhelming sensation grip you.

“Oh, Neil,” you gasp, fingers carding through his hair, “I’m gonna—it feels like I might pee if you keep doing that.”

The groan that escapes his mouth, swiping hotly against the flesh of your neck, is positively guttural. “Fuck, you’re so goddamn warm and wet—“ his teeth scrap over your neck, “And you keep pressing your ass into my cock. Can hardly bear to stop this.”

He provides some alleviation by removing his hand from your clit, but he hones in on your cunt, gliding his fingers gently alongside your walls. Even through the sound of music, you can hear yourself — can hear the way your cunt beckons him in, welcomes the intrusion of him, despite your body so desperately feeling close to the point of exploding.

“Neil!” you call out with urgency, knowing you’re close to doing something you’re not prepared to. He relents when you reach behind, gripping onto his wrist, pleading. The absence of his fingers is noticeable as soon as he retracts them, but as you work at steadying your breath you feel somewhat grateful.

Smiling with a satisfied look in his eyes, he rests his dampened digits on your hips, and brings his lips to your ear. You watch him in the mirror, noting the glossy shine of your lips as he whispers, “God, you’re so fucking hot. I’ve wanted to do that—to do this—for so long. Thought about it—“ he drops his lips to spot behind your ear, murmuring, “—every time you’d come in.”

A slight return of his boyishness manifests itself in the lilt of his voice.

“Me too,” you reply, awed.

He grabs hold of your ass, pressing you lightly into the sink from the force of it. The coolness of the porcelain on the warmth of your exposed flesh makes you hiss through your teeth.

“Never thought this would actually happen, you know?” he says. It’s so genuine you can’t help the way a smile finds its way to your lips. He matches it with his own, looking every bit like the Neil you’ve known for months. But you don’t want that Neil—not now. You want a Neil who will fuck you from behind.

You grab a tuft of his hair as he gropes at your ass.

“I always imagined you fucking me over the counter like this,” you tell him purposefully, voice faux innocent. He hums, delighted by your words—you feel it in the way he’s begun to gently rock it into you. You drive the point further, pressing against him as you watch your mirrored reflections. Your eyes grow lidded, seducing. “Need your cock so bad, Neil,” you whisper.

He whimpers when you reach behind yourself, your hand on his cock. It’s the sweetest sound, but only half as good as the way his body lurches into your touch. He doesn’t need to say it for you to understand: he wants you this badly, too. It doesn’t take him long to reach for the band of his underwear, pushing them down to his ankles with his pants.

Wrapping his hand around your jaw, Neil guides your mouth to his. You arch into him, turning your head to meet his lips better. The resulting moan that you get when you lick into his mouth travels through you both. A string of saliva hangs between you as you part, detaching only when he says, “I’m gonna fuck you now, baby, just the way you wanted.”

You like him like this. It thrills you to know he exists in this form, that for all of his nervousness when you made pointed eye contact and shamelessly flirted at his store, he isn’t hesitant to be crude. You expected it of his friend, but this—it’s beyond what you could have imagined.

You watch as he focuses, the shadows of the bathroom painting over his face while he brings his cock to your entrance. Your fingers grip on the sink; already you can tell he is thick, that even though he has readied you, it will be a stretch.

Smirking, he looks back up to you. He is so achingly good looking, all sharp features, those stunning eyes of his lighting with a deep want. He swallows harshly as you share a moment, the head of his cock at your entrance, his fingers pressing into your hip, but nothing yet happening. You nod, and that is all the encouragement he needs; he presses in, a slow, careful motion.

As expected, it is a bit of a stretch. Wet as you are, it takes him a moment to work himself inside. Every careful inch of the way, you feel him: his veins against your walls, the fullness of him inside of you, the pleasure-pain of having to adjust to him. You worry your lip between your teeth in an attempt to stop a whine from falling out. From behind you, Neil looks positively blissed out as his hips draw nearer to your ass. He groans, looking at the place where your bodies connect.

“God, you’re so big,” you groan, reaching behind to touch the hand he has on your hip.

He sucks in a breath through his teeth as he slides back into. You can tell he is attempting to establish a rhythm, some place between his pleasure and yours. You can hardly stand it. You can feel the slick between your thighs, can sense just how badly your body wants him by how it welcomes him. You need him faster.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he mutters, licking his lips. He begins to draw you back into him, moving you on his cock with the guidance of your hips. His eyes flash to the mirror, and you know immediately what it is he’s looking at: your tits, the way they bounce over the edge of your shirt as you move. The longer he watches, the quicker his hips begin to move, seemingly spurred on by the simple motion.

His hand slides up your shirt, stroking your skin, until he is skirting his fingers underneath your bra. Once again, he draws you closer to his chest. This time he presses his lips next to your ear. “So tight, baby,” he growls. “Taking me so fuckin’ good. Look at you. So—so fuckin’ pretty, sliding back on my cock.”

You can tell he’s trying hard not to lose himself. You wrap an arm around his neck, adjusting. In this position, he pushes more deeply into you, his cock rutting against the top of your walls just right.

Neil rolls over your nipple with his thumb, and his tongue licks a sensitive patch on your neck as you slide back into him again. You’ve both begun to move faster, your movements desperate. He is no longer so concerned about his limits, too caught up in the ease with which your cunt takes him, and how delightfully you mewl each time he bottoms out in you.

The length of his thrusts begin to grow shorter. He barely lifts you off of him before drawing you back, his eyes once more to your chest. Even in the dim lighting, you can tell he’s got a heavy blush spreading across his cheeks—that he’s nearing completion with each unsteady thrust he pushes into you. Before it’s too late, you decide to touch yourself, reaching between your legs fingers to rub over your sensitive clit in the small space he’s put between you and the sink. He latches on to the sight almost immediately, hooked on the image of you as he is.

“Fuck,” he hums, almost reverently, drawing up the front of your skirt. You squirm against him, whimpering, and he nods. “Yeah, like that. Squeezing me so good, honey.”

A bit more roughly than you thought him capable of, Neil yanks the top of your bra down, exposing your tits. As you reach nearer to finishing, the desire in the pit of your stomach becomes nearly palpable. Neil uses one hand to play with your nipples again. His thrusts slow, becoming more purposeful. “Come for me,” he encourages, voice like Heaven, all low and rich, honey on your skin. You circle your clit faster, spurred on, wanting to pleasure him.

As the orgasm happens, the warm flush of it hitting you everywhere, he moans. A few earnest laughs fall out of his mouth too, as if he can’t believe he’s coaxed you to it.

“Fuck, I can feel it—fuck, yeah, baby,” he groans, his speed picking up. You let go of his neck, falling forward again. You’re so overcome with pleasure that when you hit the sink, the pain doesn’t even register. He thrusts inside of you, pressing you down into the porcelain. The bathroom is filled with the echoes of your bodies slapping against one another, even over the club music, and it’s so good, so delicious, evident in the etches of your faces as he finds his release.

Neil exits you without warning a few pumps later, his warm seed spelling over the back of your thighs. He gasps softly, burying himself in the crook of your neck. You’re both sweaty, the air thick around you, but still he wraps himself around you. In truth, you find it endearing, the way his arms wrap around you, how you can feel the quick thud, thud, thud of his heart against your back as you collect yourself.

When you come back to yourselves, Neil rubs an affectionate hand over your arm, meeting your eye in the mirror. “Sorry,” he says, sounding a bit sheepish. He gestures down to your thighs. “I didn’t—it just happened so quickly. I forgot to ask where I should."

You laugh softly, taking in the state of both in the mirror. Half of your makeup is smudged off, and your lips are puffy, and you’ve done a number on his hair, the back wild and mussed up from running your fingers through it. You’re both blown up pupils and uncaring, eager smiles, too, like teenagers who’ve just discovered sex. “It’s okay,” you assure. “I had fun.”

He squeezes your hip, grinning widely. “Me too. I was wondering–uh.” His nose scrunches and you can tell he’s returned to himself full force. There’s a waver in his voice and a blush on his cheek that’s not just residue from the sex, which is awfully reminiscent of each encounter you’ve had with him at his movie store. “I don’t fuck in bathrooms a lot either, so I’m unsure if this is breaking any of the pillow talk rules…”

He looks to you for assurance, and you smile, waiting patiently. He smiles weakly. “You wanna go to dinner with me sometime next week, maybe?” he asks.

It doesn’t take long for you to form a response. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Really?” He seems surprised.

“Yeah. It’s not every day a man fucks in you in a club bathroom and then ask you to dinner after. You’ve intrigued me.”

His dimples appear. “I’m glad because there’s a pizza place by the store that I love, and the owners have begun to ask me when I’m going to get a girlfriend. Even if it doesn’t work out between us, I think that’ll hold them off for a while.”

The laugh that you let out seems to come from within you, a delighted, true sound.

This won’t be so bad, you realize. There’s only one thing better than half priced movies and flirting with the man who owns the movie store: free ones and fucking him.

[ilovetoxicfictionalmen]

would you do a neil fic where he’s a virgin and you and him after going on a few dates finally have sex and you teach him? 😭 i bet he’d be the sweetest in bed

HOW IT'S DONE

Pairing.| Neil Lewis x fem!reader

Summary.| You finally get the opportunity to teach Neil something new.

Warnings.| P in v, riding, loss of virginity. Fluffier for once.

Word count.| .9k

The beads of sweat dribbled down his flustered face. Those whimpering moans of his mixed perfectly with the lavender scent dancing up from the flamed wick. Nibbling at the flesh of his neck, Neil’s mouth went dry, his eyes almost rolled back as his hands ran over your bare back, his toes curled. Your name always sounded so beautiful when he’d pathetically squeak it out. The best bit? His cock wasn’t even in your cunt yet. 

When Neil revealed he was still a virgin, you were shocked, even though you really shouldn’t have been. He was confident and charismatic but also awkward and dorky. Under those baggy shirts, cheap pilot sunglasses and dark long locks of hair was an attractive man who didn’t know how to act the part. His cinephile lifestyle didn’t help much, he much preferred to spend the night on his cheap couch with a classic rolling on the screen. 

Usually, the idea of fucking a virgin seemed risky. They were needy, Neil was no different. But he was kind, thoughtful, genuine and you saw you’d see his blue eyes sparkle whenever he saw you. Not to mention, he had a magnificent dick, he just didn’t know how to properly use it yet. 

The first time you gave him head was in the back of your car. You surprised him with a trip to the drive-ins, but your choice of movie was poor. It was an easy alternative to pass the time that both parties agreed on. His cock was thick and long, all oddly charming geeks seemed to have it. His base was slightly trimmed to make him feel that little bit sexier. He lasted a decent amount of time, his legs shook as he came in your mouth, of course after asking for permission. 

It was after your fifth date that you tried to fuck him. Apparently the foreplay was too much for him, he unexpectedly came in his pants whilst eating you out. His cheeks were flustered pink as he apologized continuously. You assured him that it was okay and instead watched another movie to help ease his humiliation. Reattempting the sacrifice of his virginity, Neil had lit a newly bought candle, put fresh sheets on his bed and you both agreed to skip the foreplay. 

Your wet twitching lips teased his needy cock, Neil mumbled out, his hands on your hips as you straddled his thin pale legs. 

“You ready?” you whispered into his ear. 

“U-uhh, yeah” Neil shuddered as he wrapped his hand around the base of his member. 

The tightness of the condom was already torturous enough. You helped guide his tip to your entrance and gradually you slipped down his member. Neil gasped out, your tight walls stilled his twitching movements. Doing a breathing exercise to relax his sensations, Neil squeezed his eyes shut, his aching hips twitched. 

“It doesn’t hurt, does it?” Neil gulped, his voice shook as his hold on your back tightened. 

You chuckled out slowly, a wide grin on your lips as gently kissed his lips. “No Neil, feels so good” you complimented. It was good to build his on confidence, not that his size didn’t feel perfect inside of you right now. In an attempt to rock your world, he tried to thrust up. “No, no baby. Let me do all the work” you ordered sweetly. 

Neil grumbled in return and relaxed his stiff shoulders. “I wanna help out” he gasped out, his hands ran up and down your back. Sighing in defeat, you coached him to slowly push up and down. Gently, you rocked your hips back and forward around his twitching size. The sound of your quiet moans caused his legs to tremble. His vision was blurry and heat built rapidly in his body. The amount of pleasure that was growing in his lower region felt too heavy to be locked in.  

“Come on baby, hold it back a little longer” you begged with a wide smile. 

“M’trying to” he whined. 

“You’ve got this baby, feel so fucking full” you moaned out, your hips bounced perfectly up and down. 

Neil stiffened his hips as your moans grew louder, his hold tightened as he kissed up and down your sweating neck. A wicked grin grew on your lips as he brushed your cervix, you focused on that aim as you went quicker and rougher. Every thrust made Neil moan your name more pathetically.

“Baby… Baby I’m gonna-” Neil panted as he suddenly finished. 

His toes curled and thin legs squirmed as Neil groaned out. The both of you fell down, your chest pressed to his as he laid on the bed, his member twitching insanely inside of you. Neil shuddered out, mumbling curse words as he pressed his head to your neck, heaving for air. You hummed out, your digits caressed over his hot skin as Neil felt his vision come back. 

Gently, you slipped off of him and laid beside him, your head on his chest as he embraced you. His eyes fluttered, a relieving smile on his face as he murmured your name. 

“That was fucking devine” Neil exhaled, his hand squeezed your bicep. 

“You did so good” you complimented.

He gave you a tender kiss, his tongue explored your mouth as you hummed. 

“Want me to kiss you down there?” he smirked, his hand brushing against your sweating inner thigh. 

“How thoughtful of you” you grinned as you spread your legs apart.

[mothhball]

five-finger discount

Pairing | Neil Lewis x Reader

Warnings | 18+ SMUT, DUB-CON, fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex, blackmail, sex on camera, brief edging, creampie, cheating, cursing, Moth pretends to know anything about movies

Summary | You’ve been trying to make easy money, but you’re not as subtle as you thought. Some lessons need to be learned the hard way.

Words | 4.4k

Notes | FINALLY DONE. and vaguely inspired by 70s porn haha

MINORS DNI

INT. GUMSHOE VIDEO – THRILLER AISLE – DAY

“No, it's not. That's not what she said. Someone is in trouble. Something bad is happening!” squawks a woman from the running TV in the background while your fingers trace over the backs of the VHS as you walk past the shelves.

1 PM on a Wednesday certainly is no rush hour at Gumshoe Video. Even the most annoying film bros don't come here at this time of day to flaunt their knowledge of the craft and subsequent absence of social skills. You're in the clear, pretending to deeply think about your choice in entertainment for the end of the day, even though that couldn't be further from the truth. Throwing a glance over your shoulder, you spot the business owner, entranced by the film that he put on to pass the time, and you can see his plush lips silently mouthing along to the dialog. Cute. And easy to trick.

It's not your first time here. No, you made sure to become familiar with the place over the course of months now, learning where each genre and title has been sorted into its rightful place.

Certain old VHS-tapes can sell for a small fortune online, and for every tape you rent, you take one for free with the plan of selling it to the highest bidder. Currently, you have a stack at home, waiting for you to finally stop procrastinating and open up that damn eBay account.

Your pinky catches on a specific tape. 'A History of Violence', currently estimated to lure an additional 199 bucks into your greedy bank account. Quietly, you pull out the film, leaving a gaping hole in the neatly sorted row as you slip it into your purse.

With nimble hands, you try to rearrange the tapes to make the missing VHS a little less obvious, but in your haste, a few of them escape your clammy grasp and clutter to the ground. A head of silky brunette hair whips around, and you're met with pretty blue eyes as the store owner turns to face you.

You let out a giggle, trying to sound as vapid and innocuous as possible. You’re in character now. The persona you chose? An unassuming, ditzy little thing that’s hot enough to distract him, but stupid enough as to not get suspected of any wrong-doings. You’d say you’re a good actress. A fantastic one, even.

"Sorry," you purr, batting your eyelashes at him. "I'm a little clumsy today." You're already bending over to pick up the tapes when he makes his way over to lend a helping hand, and you make sure to show off your cleavage in an intentionally accidental way. You know he’s into you. You’ve been seeing the heat in his gaze for weeks now, along with the occasional crack in his voice and an almost endearing desire to impress you. It’s his biggest weakness and the reason your plan has been working flawlessly until now.

"Hey, hey, no worries. Uh, gravity wins sometimes. Don't sweat it," he grins at you, brushing his fingers against yours as the two of you work together to put everything back into place.

"What exactly were you looking for anyway?" he suddenly asks, breaking your focus for a second.

"Uh, Moonstruck," you mutter, completely on autopilot. The store owner nods, pursing his lips as he mulls over your answer. You’re aware of your blunder before he even answers.

"Moonstruck? Then you're in the wrong section. You know, with how often you come here, I thought you got the hang of our layout by now." Fuck, he’s got you. Play dumb. Play dumb!

Your poker face almost cracks, but you keep your composure. Or at least you try to. "Huh? Oh - I... right. God, I'm just all over the place today." You giggle again, relieved by the way his grin seems to soften. Hook, line and sinker. He may think he’s detective Sam Spade from ‘The Maltese Falcon’, but you’re Brigid O’Shaughnessy. Or he’s Batman and you’re Catwoman. Or – well, it doesn’t matter. Baseline is, you’re snatching tapes right from underneath his nose while he’s too busy fantasizing about what’s underneath your clothes.

The store owner speaks up again, lazily rubbing the back of his neck as he leans against the shelf, and his free hand wanders and gestures around a bit as if he’s trying to figure out which pose would look the coolest and most effortless.

“Right. Actually, that wasn’t really fair of me.” You tilt your head at him, eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly which prompts him to elaborate. “Some of our tapes went missing. Y’know, some of the oldies and goldies? That’s why I didn’t stock Moonstruck this week.”

Your lips part in surprise, but all you can reply with is a soft ‘oh’. The store owner shrugs, leaning in towards you. There’s something conspiratory about his expression which makes your stomach churn a little. “Yeah. But I do still have it. It’s just in my office.”

There’s a beat of silence as you mull over the unspoken offer. Your plan is built on the one tape you always rent for cheap. No one would think you’re stealing if you’re actually paying for something, right? Despite this, you wonder if you should call it a day and head home with the stolen film hidden in your purse. Alibi be damned.

“I… That’s great. Uh, actually, I was just about to –“ he cuts you off with a casual wave of his hand, and the grin on his face widens once more.

“Don’t worry. I’ll even give you a discount. Just follow me.”

INT. GUMSHOE VIDEO – NEIL LEWIS’ PRIVATE OFFICE – DAY

The private office of Neil Lewis, cinephile and pop culture enthusiast, is decorated with a distinct Film Noir charm, lovingly empathized by leather chairs and a checkered floor. Not to mention the letters on the door. He calls himself a private investigator. A joking title that makes you palms sweat ever so slightly. You notice that he set up a small camera on his desk, but he brushes it off as a regular procedure.

"So... Moonstruck,” he starts, gesturing for you to take a seat. Which you do. “Great pick. Just curious - Why did you go for that one?" The question makes you pause for a second.

"The... the cover spoke to me,” you casually lie, trying to sound somewhat cute, but it doesn’t land. Neil’s expression quickly betrays his skepticism, and his lips part while his narrowed gaze wanders around the room for a minute. "Hm. And what about the other one?"

"What do you mean?" Play dumb, play dumb, play – but he’s not letting you off the hook so easily.

"The other tape."

Silence fills the office, and you swear the VHS in your purse is starting to burn a hole right where it’s settled in your lap.

"Which... other tape? I just picked out this one."

"Ohhh, right. Sorry. My bad. Just… Moonstruck." The way he’s saying this makes it seem like he enjoys the taste of the letters on his tongue. You nod, a little too eager to get this conversation over and done with.

"So you won’t mind me looking through your purse?" Neil leans forward in his seat, folding his hands on top of his desk. Your eyes briefly fall onto the little desk name plate that’s undoubtedly just made out of shiny, golden plastic. But it does the job. It intimidates you. At least to a certain degree.

“No,” you lie through your teeth, trying to shrug off the tension. “I… it’s certainly no problem, Mr. Lewis. None at all.”

Neil lets out an apathetic sigh as he rises from his seat, causing the leather to squeak. His steps seem a little too confident for a video rental owner as he moves around the desk to first walk over to the door and lock it. “Neil is fine. I’m not a big fan of… formalities,” he starts, coming up behind you to set his hands on your shoulders. His hands are gentle but firm, causing your body to warm right down to the deepest layers. To make his control over the situation even more apparent, he splays his hands, tracing your collarbone with his middle finger. It’s subtle enough that he could pass it off as a figment of your imagination if you should choose to speak up. But you don’t. You stay quiet, even as he leans down and you can hear the murmur of his voice right next to your ear.

“Open your purse.”

You bite your tongue, slowly opening your purse to find Cher’s face grinning back at you. It’s Moonstruck. In all of its romantic glory, and it makes both you and Neil freeze for a moment. You lick your dry lips, saying the first thing that comes to mind.

"That's mine."

"Yours?" You wouldn’t know, but his eyebrow twitches upward at your ridiculous claim.

"Yeah. A... personal copy." Great, now you’re doubling down.

"With my name on it?" Silence, yet again. You could basically hear the dramatic music that the producers of any reality TV shows use in the background of any tense scene. But this isn’t scripted. No, all of this is improvised.

"... what are the odds?" you croak, feeling how your throat goes dry in real time. Neil scoffs in reply, shaking his head, and his grip on your shoulders tightens a tad before he lets go entirely. His expression is stern as he steps in front of you, leaning against the desk and crossing his shapely arms over his chest. For a moment, he’s silent, letting his eyes wander all over your form in a slow, appreciative way that makes your palms get sweaty. “You do know I have to call the police, don’t you?”

“What?” Your breath hitches in your lungs, and you blink a few times, almost in an attempt to shake yourself out of this very strange dream. “This… this is just one tape. Isn’t this kind of excessive?”

“Yeah, maybe it’s one tape today. But you’ve been coming here for weeks.” Your jaw drops, but you can’t seem to come up with an appropriate response. You’ve been had. For the past months, you were convinced that he only saw you as a little piece of eye candy wandering through the store, but he’s been seeing right through you all along. Now you definitely don’t feel like Catwoman anymore. When he notices that you’re not going to say anything, Neil continues.

“Did you really think we don’t have security cameras all over the place? Well, I’ve been watching you the entire time, playing along when you pretended to be all ditzy and cute. It’s not just one instance. It’s a whole case, baby. And you’ll go to jail.” That makes you break out of your stupor, and you can feel your pulse speeding up.

“No- wait, no, no, no. Please, can’t we just talk about this for one second?”

“I don’t bargain with thieves.” He’s smug. Too smug for your liking, considering that he’s threatening you with the loss of your precious, precious freedom.

“Please, I’ll do anything,” you plead, fixing him with the biggest puppy dog eyes you can muster in an attempt to appeal to the soft, awkward side of him. And he cracks. At least the tiniest bit.

“Maybe… maybe we can work something out. But I’ll need to search you first. Who knows what else you’re hiding.” He gestures for you to stand, and you get up from your seat, causing the leather cushioning to faintly squeak once again. “Spread your arms. To the side.”

Your expression settles into a pout, but you do as you’re told, much to Neil’s satisfaction. He returns to his previous position behind you and starts by touching your shoulders, slowly trailing his hands down your arms. His fingers leave tingles behind on your skin, and you’re even more aware of how close he’s gotten when you feel his breath on the back of your neck. His cheeky hands continue to wander, making their way down your sides, softly squeezing around your waist before he moves on to your hips. You try to think about it as a TSA search, but it’s a little hard to do when his hands linger for much longer than necessary on your thighs and your calves as he crouches down. Once he’s satisfied, he straightens back up, and you almost think he’s done before he leans in to rasp into your ear.

“You’re gonna have to take your clothes off… so I can search you more thoroughly.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you’re about to protest, but he’s already pulling your top off, tossing it aside before he moves on to your shorts. A sigh escapes him as he pulls them down along with your panties, and he doesn’t give you even a second to recover before he’s gripping and caressing the curves of your body. Leaning his chin on your shoulder, he runs his fingers over your hips, feeling how your skin warms beneath his touch. “Take your bra off.”

“What? There’s no way I could be hiding a tape in there –“ In response, Neil lightly pinches your thigh, causing you to jump a little and let out a soft whine. Seems like there’s no way around it. With shaky hands, you reach behind yourself to unclasp your bra, and Neil leans back ever so slightly to give you the space to move. That is, until your tits are exposed, and his body is glued against yours once more. The feeling of his hardening cock pressing up against your ass sends heat into your core, and you instinctively clench your thighs together. Of course, this catches his attention.

“Ah, so you are hiding something.”

He wraps his arms around you, steering the two of you over to the mirror he hung on the wall next to his ridiculous little costume rack. You watch your own flushed expression as his hand slips between your legs to let his fingers trace over your already wet folds. With a groan, you try to avert your eyes before he corrects you with a rough grope of your breast.

“No. Eyes on yourself. I want you to see the guilt on your face while I search you.”

Reluctantly, your eyes return to the mirror, just in time for him to plunge a finger into your velvety pussy. Your lips part, and as much as you’d like to keep quiet, your resolve crumbles immediately when he finds that sweet spot inside of you. Within minutes, the office fills up with the sounds of your pleasure and the obscene squelching of his fingers in your wet cunt. And he’s thorough in his search, quickly working you up from one finger to three, making your toes curl against the checkered floor. For a moment, he drives you up to that delightful edge, only to pull his fingers out of you at the last second.

You don’t have the capacity to complain when he lifts his hand towards the light, showing off his glistening digits. Both of you are entranced by the sight, and Neil lets out a soft wheeze before he licks his fingers clean.

“Yeah, I made up my mind. Get over to the desk and bend over.”

“I have a boyfriend,” you whine, turning your head to give him your biggest puppy dog eyes.

“Well, you should’ve thought about it before you stole from me. Losing those rare tapes was a financial disaster for me. I’m risking this store. And I’m not gonna do it without something in return.” He finishes his sentence with a light smack to your ass which only manages to get you even more riled up. It’s hard to disagree with him when he knows just how to get you going.

Neil drags you back over to the desk, angling the camera in just the right way before he hurriedly tears his clothes off completely. The sight of his urgency makes your chest fill with butterflies, but you still need to protest. You have to!

“I don’t usually do this… what if my boyfriend finds out?”

“That’s one more reason to behave. You wouldn’t want him to see this little clip, right?” he asks, although the question is entirely rhetorical. You’d love to feel guilty, but you can’t bring yourself to it.

 His hands run from your shoulders down to your hips, kneading your flesh with the attentiveness of a potter crafting a masterpiece, and he leans over you to place open-mouthed kisses down your spine. You shiver, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth to stifle the noises that are threatening to escape your mouth. With a quick movement, Neil reaches under your knee to guide your leg on top of the desk, and you let out a soft sigh when you can feel your arousal rolling down the inside of your thigh as he spreads you open with two fingers.

“You know… nice girls wouldn’t get this wet in situations like these. Then again, you’re a filthy thief, so you’re the furthest thing from a good girl.”

Neil wraps one arm around your waist, pulling you back against his chest so he can latch back onto the side of your neck, sucking and biting while he uses his other hand to guide the tip of his cock against your drooling entrance. His naked skin against yours fills your head with need, and you press up against him a little more to feel him more closely as he slowly pushes inside your velvety cunt. Both of you let out a hiss, and Neil follows it up with a needy whimper as he stills for a moment.

“Fuck… oh fuck,” he breathes, causing your lips to twitch up in subtle amusement. Neil’s hand shakes as he adjusts the camera, making sure to get everything in frame, and in this moment, you clench around him on purpose, causing him to moan right into your ear. “Jesus Christ, don’t do that –”

The slap to your ass is meant to punish you, but it’s doing the exact opposite, and you let him know this by moaning his name. His lips return to your pulse as he pushes his cock deeper into you, stretching you so perfectly that it sends goosebumps over your skin. Or maybe it’s because of his warm breath on your ear. Or his hands diligently kneading your tits. The cocktail of heated touches and sensations is literally making you feel drunk.

“Your cock feels so good,” you whine, causing him to suck in a sharp breath at the praise.

“Yeah?” he chuckles, bottoming out inside of you before he starts to set a slow, sensual rhythm. “You’re such a depraved little slut… getting off on your punishment. If only your boyfriend knew.”

Neil rolls his hips against yours, drawing a moan from both of you that would fit perfectly on the set of a porno. Maybe you’re hamming it up a little to feed his ego. But that isn’t very hard to do when he fills you up so deliciously, making you wetter with every thrust.

You’re already starting to feel breathless when he slowly speeds up, drilling into your dripping pussy with even more fervor. Words are starting to become a little difficult, but you try your best anyway. “You’re better than him. SO much better –“

Your reward is a second smack – aimed at your chest this time.

“You’re damn right I am,” he groans, sucking another hickey into your skin and adding to the little necklace of bruises he’s been placing around your neck. “Suck these for me, will you?”

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, but it doesn’t last long when he brings his fingers up to your mouth, and you eagerly latch onto his digits, still faintly tasting yourself from earlier. You suck them down to the knuckle, running your tongue in between them in a way that makes him groan and pound your cunt even harder. Once his fingers are sufficiently coated in your saliva, he pulls them free from your lips and reaches between your legs to rub your clit.

The one leg you’ve been standing on threatens to give out immediately, but he holds you up with his other arm, and gently guides your hands into place to better support yourself on the desk. Neil nuzzles his face into your hair, breathing heavily against the shell of your ear.

“If you promise not to steal ever again, I might let you cum on my cock.”

His words are intercepted by quiet grunts and whimpers, and you find yourself agreeing pretty quickly, blabbering out promise after promise.

“I’ll never – never steal again! I swear, I swear, I swear, please! Please, please let me cum –!”

You’re almost not recognizing your own voice due to the desperately needy tone that’s laced through your pleading, but Neil doesn’t mind. Quite the opposite, really, because you can feel his thrusts picking up in intensity. He rewards your obedience by rubbing your clit a little faster, and you have to bite your knuckle as to not cry out his name. Fuck, it’s only noon and you’re approaching your release at breakneck speed.

“Fuck… I – I’m close,” you breathe, turning your head to look at him from over your shoulder. His teeth are back in your neck as he kisses and bites at your skin, and his voice sounds strained as he answers you.

“Go ahead… let go for me. If only your boyfriend knew, hm?”

That’s it. Your orgasm rips through you, and you let out a whine as you claw at the surface beneath you. Neil is generous enough to let you ride out your climax, but you can tell how impatient he is when he suddenly pulls out, swallowing heavily.

 “On your back.” He doesn’t have to tell you twice. It’s a little awkward, but you manage to scramble and reposition yourself, lying back against the desk and looking up at him with flushed cheeks and tousled hair. Neil is in the same state, licking his lips and swallowing dryly as he guides his cock back into your cunt, aided by his thumb on the base of his length.

“Fuck… how can you still be this tight? Shit, FUCK…” He’s cursing and muttering under his breath, having half a brain to readjust the still rolling camera as to not miss a single second. His hands guide your legs around his waist, and he leans over you, staring at you through blown out pupils that clash against the vibrant intensity of his ocean gaze. His pretty face is red, and sweat beads on his forehead, causing his hair to stick to his skin. Without thinking, you reach up to push it back, causing both of you to still for a second before Neil finds his tone again.

“M’gonna fill you up… and send you back home to your boyfriend with a creampie in that pretty cunt. Alright? Alright.”

You can only nod in response, hearing your own racing heartbeat in your ears along with his continued grunts and moans. His hands on you are gentle, but his thrusts definitely aren’t as he pounds you against the desk. Neil’s hips smack against yours, causing every novelty item around the two of you to tremble along to your feverish rhythm. You tilt your head back but he goes after you, finally capturing your lips in a hungry kiss that he’s been trying to hold back from the entire time. But now that he’s rapidly approaching his own climax, the self-restraint is completely out of the window.

Your tongues clash, and you moan into his mouth when his hands find yours, linking your fingers together. Neil’s lips faintly taste of iced coffee as he licks against your tongue, and your grip on his hands tightens when his movements start to become erratic.

Your lips stay locked the entire time, even as he lets out a guttural groan when he finishes inside of you, thrusting into you a few more times to push it in as deep as possible. Finally, he stills and pulls away from you, unable to resist stealing one last peck from your swollen lips. You’re still breathing heavily as his hands roam over your body once more, relishing the feeling of your skin beneath his fingertips. Now that he has material on you and you promised not to steal again, he’s gentle. Almost too gentle, and you have to clear your throat to snap him out of it.

Neil catches himself, blinking down at you with soft eyes while he wipes some sweat off his brow. There’s a subtle twitch in his lips that tells you that he’d love to keep touching you, but he’s aware of the setting you’re in. Almost reluctantly, he pulls out of you to let you retrieve your clothes. While you’re getting dressed, he checks the camera and stops the recording before he speaks up.

“You’re free to go, then. You know what happens if I catch you stealing again, right?”

The question prompts you to nod in response, and you mumble out a “yes” as you pull your top back over your head. Once Neil confiscates the VHS from your purse, you’re free to exit the store on trembling legs, cringing a little at the feeling of your combined fluids leaking into your underwear. But God, this heist was worth it.

INT. YOUR PLACE – LIVING ROOM – DAY

As expected, the house is quiet when you get home, and you let out a deep, satisfied sigh as you throw yourself onto the couch to decompress for a moment.

Not even 20 minutes pass until the front door opens, and you hear familiar footsteps. A lazy smile spreads over your face, and you sit up, watching you boyfriend as he kicks off his shoes and throws his jacket over the coat rack on the wall. He makes his way over, leaning down to press a sweet kiss to your lips, and your vision is filled by ocean eyes and faint freckles. Neil chuckles softly, placing the camera onto the coffee table before he sinks down on the couch next to you and pulls you close. “I’m glad Lucien agreed to take over the rest of the day.” You hum in agreement, closing your eyes when he brushes his fingers through your hair to massage your scalp.

“I think that was our best one yet.”

FIN.

tags: @ellebelleshelby @cilliansprincess @mcumorningstar @x0xomady @mandies24 @detroitbecomevenom @pretty-bluebird @ink5ouls (couldn't tag) @flwrs4aust @vampmary1411 @ashdrinksoatmilk @luvizuku @nnattu @ptolemaniac @kiss-me-cill-me @celebrities-imagines

[cherrycranes]

Dream Girl (Neil Lewis x Fem!Reader) [+18]

Pairing: Neil Lewis x Fem!Reader Summary: You're Neil's favorite (and only) camgirl and the girl of his dreams, and he finally has a video call with you. Word count: 3,307 Contents: (Minors DNI). Reader is a camgirl! Needy Neil, cam sex, mutual masturbation, praise kink, fluff! Author's notes: Once again, a collab with @fuckiingloser my beloved. Mandatory "english is not my first language" disclaimer. Underneath there's a Neil playlist I made, the pinterest moodboard to help you visualize this fic and something more! ;)

Neil anxiously stared at the computer screen waiting for it to connect. The circular motions of the loading icon toyed with his impatience. This was serious to him. After selling some old valuable tapes from Gumshoe, he had just enough to pay for a private video call with her: his favorite cam girl, his ultimate dream girl, the one he had been dedicated to watching for the last few months.

He had stumbled upon her in his usual search for porn months ago, in one desperate and lonely night. After closing and closing several porn tabs and profiles, finding absolutely nothing that scratched the right spot for him, he saw her. In all her pink, fluffy, girl-next-door-esque glory. He sat there in complete awe, watching her just smile and laugh, chatting to subscribers and also watching her touch herself… Neil loved it all. From her beautiful hair, her beautiful smile, pretty eyes and perfect body… She had taken over every single thought of his. He became completely hooked since. Generously tipping her, subscribing to her only fans and leaving sweet messages since subscribing.

He couldn’t believe it, after months, he had finally gotten the chance to have a one-on-one call with her. Half of his daydreams and fantasies were about the moment he could talk to her and not just write her his usual nice comments online. He nervously fixed his hair on the reflection of the monitor at the thought. Nothing in this world would let him miss this… Not even the cost. Selling a few of his vintage vhs tapes was not a big deal if it meant he got to see her. 

Neil was positively and undeniably obsessed… Not in the stalker way, of course… He was always respectful. He just had a crush, and a deep yearning to have the chance to take her on a date, get to know her, make her laugh at the very least… His dream girl…

Snapping him out of his thoughts, the screen finally blinked on, making him smile softly when he saw his dream girl pop on the screen.

“Hi there, Neil…” You greeted him with your sensual but sweet voice. You quite liked him as a subscriber. You had seen from his profile that he was only a few years older than you, and from his comments you always knew he was nice, but when you finally saw him appear on your screen you were pleasantly impressed. Neil was much cuter than what you expected him to be. His beautiful pale blue eyes, his soft brown curls, his sweet smile… God help you, he was dreamy…

You sat pretty on your pink fluffy duvet cover on your bed, your laptop was propped right in front of you at the perfect angle, showing your body and lovely face. Neil’s reaction to that image was just delicious, his eyes widened and you moved back a little, revealing the tiny see through pink lingerie set you wore…  At his request, of course. 

From the screen you could tell this already had an effect on him, his cock definitely hardening in his pants and his eyes raking all over you through his monitor. Despite being so used to watching you he still felt weak on the knees. 

“H-hi… you look… so beautiful ...” Neil stuttered just so cutely through his big smile, his usual sweetness shining through. Even when he commented in your livestreams or messaged you he was always a total sweetheart. Most of the other comments you received were well… Vulgar and far too descriptive. That is why Neil always stood out to you, the only one who was actually nice, the one who always tuned into your streams, even the ones where you weren’t naked. He just wanted to see you and hear you talk. 

 “Thank you… You’re too sweet..” You purred to him, smiling and turning around on your knees just to let him see the outfit from the back. Your hand slowly and very sensually ran over your body and the delicate pink lace and flower embroidery of your see-through bra and thong. He watched, completely out of breath. The shape of your ass, the way the lingerie did nothing to hide your charms. He felt himself grow harder.

“Wow…” He whispered, almost dizzy. “You’re perfect…”

Words weren’t enough. “Perfect” didn't even cover just how incredible you were to him. Neil LOVED the dainty, girly lingerie sets you always wore, your all-pink girly room, your innocent eyes, your soft voice. You were the perfect girl next door, the embodiment of all his fantasies combined and presented like a goddess in front of him… And now you were his… Even if it was just for the hour. 

Satisfied with his cute reaction, you sat back down on the bed, smiling softly for the camera.

“You’ve got all of me for an hour… Any special requests?” You asked kindly, charmingly. Neil felt his mind turn to mush for a second, just staring at you for a bit before gathering his thoughts enough to answer. 

“Could you touch yourself and moan my name…  Please?” He asked so softly, your lips curled into a smirk.

“Of course, I can do that. Fingers or a toy?” Your tone was slightly flirty but still very sweet.

“A vibrator… the one you always use…” Neil answered right away, not even thinking about it. He knew exactly what he wanted.

“As you wish..” You smiled and leaned off camera for a second to grab the toy that waited ready for you to use.

“This one?” You came back into frame and, with a cheeky smile on your face, held up the realistic pink dick shaped vibrator.

Neil’s eyes widened a bit in recognition and he nodded with a smile, his hand squeezed his hard on over his pants as he took in the sight of you on the screen. You leaned back against your pretty pink pillows and slowly spread your legs. He shifted closer towards the monitor, lured in by you and the way you gently pulled your sheer panties down your legs and tossed them aside, exposing your pretty little pussy.

It obviously wasn’t the first time he’d seen it… But it was the first time that only him got to see it. He groaned, looking at your perfectly waxed lips reverently. How he wished he could just dive into the screen and magically appear in front of you.

“How do I look?” You asked with a pretty smirk, two gentle fingers spreading your lips apart for him to drool for. His breath hitched a bit and he swallowed hard, fighting his own brain for coherent words.

“You look like a goddess…” He said, almost in awe. “Your pussy is so pretty..” 

You smiled sincerely at his compliment before a motion from your thumb turned the vibrator on. The pink toy slowly and teasingly traveled to your clit, and you moaned instantly when it touched it and made it send waves of pleasure through you. You closed your eyes and Neil kept his wide open, your lips curved into a little smirk before you fulfilled his second request:

“Neil… oh baby… feels so good..” You could have killed him with that breathy moan. He couldn’t contain a groan and his hands couldn’t stop themselves from squeezing his aching cock over his pants. 

When you opened your eyes, you looked at your screen, smiling at the sight.

“You can touch yourself if you want… I wanna see you too…” You cooed to him. 

“Really?” Neil asked, obviously very excited at the thought of both of you getting off together, even if it was through the computer. You nodded with a pretty moan, moving the vibrator against you a bit more. He breathed out, your pussy glistened more and more before his eyes, and for a moment, he savored it in his imagination. His hand took his aching hard on out of his pants and scooted his chair back so you could see all of him. 

Quickly, he spat into his hand and wrapped it around his needy cock, gently groaning at the feeling, imagining it was your pussy instead of his hand. He looked up and saw you watching him with those lovely eyes of yours, he gave himself a few slow pumps.

“Mmm, your cock is so big…” You moan softly, biting your lip as you teased yourself with the toy, enticing the gentle strokes he gave himself.

“Big enough for you?” He asked almost desperately as he jerked off. 

You smiled, gently turning the toy off and sliding it between your wet folds, just teasing yourself with it before finally pushing it in. 

“Mmm… Definitely...” You moaned back to him, and he watched in amazement. You gently pushed the tip of the toy inside you, moaning deliciously as you adjusted around it.

“You wish this was your cock, instead?” You asked him seductively, earning an immediate nod from him. 

“God, yes…” He answered quickly. “I'd literally do anything you wanted of me… I’d-I’d worship you…” 

You moaned again, loudly, his words making you push the dildo in deeper and stretch yourself more.

“Worship me?” Your voice came out sensual, slightly affected by the feeling of the pink toy in you. Neil nodded and groaned, pumping his cock a bit faster.

“Yes... I’d love to kiss you, taste you… make you smile… make you come…” He was beautifully desperate, too fucking sweet. You felt your cheeks at the edge of burning, your hand kept moving, you kept fucking yourself with the dildo.

It was inevitable now, his adoring and genuine praises did something to you, to your wet cunt that only got much more wetter. You arched your back and moaned, never once stopping your hand that held the dildo. 

“More..” You whined to him, needing more of his sweet words. His breathing sped up as his hands worked his cock faster. He was dumbfounded for a split second, but he would never deny you anything.

“I'd spend hours eating your pussy if you let me… I just wanna make you come with my tongue…” He added, his voice a little shaky. 

“Oh fuck..” You moaned loudly, feeling so turned on and getting closer, faster than you expected too… You looked at the screen, seeing him stare at you with those beautiful desperate blue eyes. So, you moved the toy back to your clit and turned it up even higher.

“Neil… I'm gonna come..” You warned him with a loud whine that mixed with the buzzing sound of the vibrator. It was so uncommon for you to even reach this stage so fast, but there was something about his sweet voice, his eyes, his praises… They were doing something to you that you weren’t at all used to…

“Please, come for me…” Neil begged softly, his hand sped up around his cock. “I wanna come with you…” He moaned, shutting his pretty eyes and breathing heavily. 

“Yes... Yes!” You cried out loudly, every muscle of your legs trembled viciously and your clit sent overwhelming waves of pleasure to every last nerve you had. The perfect prelude to an intense, looming orgasm. “Neil…” You moaned needy. 

Neil´s baby blue eyes widened even more, watching you in amazement. With a few more vibrations against your sensitive clit, you came undone just for his eyes to enjoy. Your cry of pleasure sent shivers down his spine and harder pumps to his throbbing, aching cock. Oh, he’d do anything to feel that sweet orgasm of yours happen all around him.

“Fuck, me too.. I’m coming too..” He spoke with  a strained voice, looking right at you and keeping eye contact through the screen. His eager hand jacked him off almost in desperation, massaging his hard cock until reaching an intense abrupt stop. Ropes of his thick white come coated his hand as he let out little groans. His dick twitched and pulsed in his palm and he threw his head back for a moment there. Your eyes studied the scene on your laptop screen detailedly, up until the last little bit of his cum dribbled out.

“Fuuuck..” He groaned softly, he then gave you a satisfied smile. “That was fucking amazing..”.

You giggled a little, his voice was hoarse and just so attractive. You couldn’t agree more with him.

For his eyes, you spread your pussy lips again, proudly showing him the aftermath of what he helped you achieve: your lips glistening with your orgasm. He groaned a bit, his mouth nearly watering.

“I wish I could clean you up with my tongue… I’d give anything for a taste…” He whispered desperately. You bit your lip, it was unbelievable just what this sweet guy did to you.

After a few more breaths, you both sat up and angled your cameras back up to your faces. Neil cleaned himself up on camera, a box of tissues ready on his desk.

“Sorry it happened so fast…” You started to apologize, your mind now clearer and aware that you still had a half hour left for the call, but Neil cut you off before you could finish speaking:

“Please… don’t apologize. That was… Everything to me. Besides… I’d love to just talk too, is that okay?…” He muttered softly.

“Yeah, of course, if that’s what you want…” You answered with slight sheepishness at his sweet words. Still, conversation with Neil just flowed… So naturally… 

“You already know what I do for a living…” You said with a little smirk, his cute laughter resonated from your laptop´s speakers. “What do you do for work?” 

“I actually own a small movie rental store… It's called Gumshoe Video. Been my dream since I was a kid, opened up about 5 years ago now, actually.” Neil answered with a genuine smile, proud of himself. 

“Wow, that's awesome.. I actually love movies, especially older romance movies…” You confessed, and he felt butterflies. You were beautiful AND loved old movies? You really were his dream girl after all. 

“Really?” He asked, a little shocked. You giggled gently.

“Yeah, of course… Brief Encounter is one of my favorites.” You looked at his perfect brown curls through the screen as his mouth turned into a grin. 

 “Wow! Yeah, I love that one! I love David Lean.” He agreed, something deep in his chest fluttering. The more you talked, the more you realized you had more in common than either of you would have ever thought. Talking with him was just so easy, so effortlessly. Neil was just as sweet talking face-to-face as he was online.

“Can I ask where you're from?” He said shyly, not knowing if that’s crossing the line or not. Understandable nervousness stirs in you.

“I usually don’t disclose that kind of information to anyone…” You started and received a pleasant little surprise when you saw Neil nodding in acceptance softly. But before he could speak you felt your gut just telling you to say it. “I live in Chicago.” You suddenly blurted out. 

You watched his eyes widen a bit.

“Chicago?” Neil whispered to himself softly. “I-I’m in the Chicago suburbs!” 

Your eyes widened too, the revelation feeling just right. He was so close to you this whole time and you didn’t even know it…

“Wow..” You whispered, a little shocked at the news. “Small world i guess…” You smiled and Neil laughed a bit.

“No kidding.” He agreed. The girl he’s been pining after and thinking about for months… Practically neighbors with him. 

There was an awkward silence for a second as you both processed the information. Finally, he spoke:

“I'd love to possibly take you on a date sometime… If you’d be okay with it, that is… Just want to treat you like a princess... We wouldn’t have to have sex or anything…”  He rambles just so cutely. You really considered it. Butterflies flew in your stomach. Most men only saw you as a sex object, something they could use and move on from. Neil wasn’t that kind of guy, that was obvious. He was kind and thoughtful. You had never even considered ever wanting to meet someone from only fans… Until today… Until Neil. 

Your beautiful glossy lips almost uttered the word “yes”... But suddenly, you decided against it. You felt a little bad when you saw his face fall a bit at your decline, but you had to watch out for yourself. Though he was bummed, he understood.

“Of course, I understand completely… Maybe we could have another private session? I’d really love to talk again…” Neil adapted the goalposts for your comfort, his sweet innocent eyes making you melt. You smiled, and decided to accept. The grin returned to his handsome face.

“I'll have to sell some things but I'll be good…  Maybe next week? Same day and same time?” He said enthusiastically and your smile fell a bit. Guilt crept back on you. He was selling things just to pay to speak to you. No, you wouldn't let this be. 

Despite the fact that it had just been one call, you felt more for him, more than you ever thought you would. You usually had no problem taking men’s money but with him… It just felt wrong. You felt terrible. 

“No, please don’t do that…” You stopped him, he furrowed his brow a bit in confusion. “Next one's on me because I finished so early this time…” It was an excuse, yes, but one that seemed to work well enough so he wouldn't have to sell his possessions just to see you. 

“Really?” He asked softly, seeming a little shocked by your words. “It's really no problem… I don't want to take advantage of you… I know it’s your job…” He whispered, giving you those perfect sweet eyes that made you melt once again.

“Really.” You told him, completely sure of your decision. “I promise” And you reassured him with a soft smile. Neil´s smirk grew. 

“Thank you so much… I'd just like to see you again... Maybe talk more about movies too, hopefully?” he asked softly, gentle excitement in his voice. You blushed a little bit. God, he’s sweet. 

“I'd like that!” You agreed with a soft smile, a casual glance to the time on your laptop made you notice that you had reached a little over an hour on the call. “Well… I'll see you next week then, Neil…Bye bye!” You said softly, looking at him through the screen and giving him a little wave. 

“Goodbye, beautiful…  Sleep well.” Neil said so genuinely it made your heart burst a little. He gave you a soft wave and you smiled in return. The video call finally ended and you let out a deep sigh, feeling all kinds of emotions.

As the call ended on his end and the screen went back to black, Neil smiled to himself, feeling happier and more excited than he has in a long time. Now that he knew he would see you again next week, just like he did tonight… It made him feel like the luckiest man in the world.

He went to bed that night still reeling, replaying it all in his mind over and over. Finally, he set his phone down and settled into bed. A movie played for background noise as he tried to relax, even if the image of your beautiful face kept him awake and so painfully aware of just how much he needed you. It was then when his phone pinged with a notification from his bank:

 $800.00 USD refunded to checking account.

Under it, there was a message reading: 

“I enjoyed myself as much as you did… I’ll see you next week Neil, can’t wait…” 

It was from you. His jaw dropped a bit in disbelief. This was only the beginning…

Pinterest moodboard to help you visualize, made by @fuckiingloser the queen herself!

Neil Lewis playlist made by me!

Part 2... (coming soon) ;)

[your-nanas-house]

Be quick

(Credits to the owner @corodedcofin)

◇ Pairing: Perv Stepbrother!Neil Lewis X stepsister!Reader

◇ Warnings: smut, pervy Neil, hanjob, dub-con but not really, indifference, age gap (both off age), shitty writing, curses

◇ Summary: Neil receiving a handjob on the sofa while his stepsister looks at her phone.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English. Been working on this things since weeks now... it's shit and I'm sorry. 🤷🏼‍♀️🙇🏼‍♀️

A small snort left Neil's lips, he was getting bored for the first time while watching one of the movies he usually liked to watch.

It had been a while since he broke up with Violet and he missed a bit... that thrill mixed with adrenaline. He certainly wasn't the Neil he once was, not even in the way he wished— especially when he thought at his step sister.

The young woman had been such a little tease lately.

The possibilities that she was it while Neil was in the relationship were pretty high but he was always too busy to actually notice and let his body react to it.... every day. Because it kept happening every single day since his eyes took her in, waking up his cock at the mere view of bit of skin.

He blamed it mostly on the lack of sex in his life and the urge of fisting his lenght to make time and stress go away.

Y/n, his mother's new boyfriend's daughter... aka his step-sister, was being a bother even though she was just sitting right besides him, her eyes locked on the phone rather than the TV.

His baby blue eyes couldn't stop wandering around her body, taking peeks at her cleavage and her short shorts she was wearing at home— and he was doing it again. Luckily they were all alone that day, no-one was around, so.... he could finally get what he craved so much.

The only issue that was stopping him from doing anything was the poor plan he had in mind... how could he start it all? he wondered silently.

A short mental battle and Neil shifted slightly closer, his face turned still towards the TV to pretend that he was watching the movie playing on it, as he spread slightly his thigh to brush it against Y/n's bare a couple of time to see if he received any reaction from her.

Receiving none he continued with the plan, taking her hand and placed it down on his lap casually, sending finally the message that he was trying to give her without murmuring it explicitly— he was so aroused, nearly thrilled... thrilled enough to twitch at the mere warmth of her hand.

Y/n not really, she was still cursing mentally for that drunk bet she had with him and her lost which causing her to fall in that absurd situation.

'That fucking perv' she thought while starting finally to move her hand, feeling his hard cock, pressing against his pajamas pants, with her little finger.

Her hand limited to only rub his thigh for the moment as she waited for him to lower his pants and free his lenght— her eyes never leaving the screen of her phone.

Neil glanced at her, his breath peaking up as he bit his bottom lip in anticipation too earger to actually move... just wanting her soft groomed hand to wrap around his thick long cock and lead the way to heaven.

She didn't even needed to glance in his direction to see what to do since her stepbrother's hand moved her own to wrap it around his leaking cock, allowing that way her eyes to stay glued to the screen.

His cock was hard, his skin soft and plesant to touch while his tip was of an angry red... as it let some pre-cum drip on her fingers as soon as she moved his foreskin.

"Oh fuck" Neil curses, biting harder his bottom lip as he watched her move her hand lazily, his hips jerking desperately up to meet her movements. The young girl had been able to give it just a couple of slow pumps before the older man wrapped his own big hand around her smaller one... so to guide her better and not allow her to tease him further.

His fingers intertwined with hers, his thumb caressed the back of her hand before he moved it off his cock, so that he could lean closer and spit on it as a lubricant to ease the handjob.

"Neil! You're fucking disgusting" Y/n cursed at his action, making a face at the odd feeling of his spit on the inside of her hand. He really was so gross sometimes.

"Fuck, say my name again" he breathed out overwhelmed by the situation, his hand guiding hers back around his lenght "Remember, squee—" he started, cursing softly as she interrupted him with her movements.

"Yes, yes... I know how you like it, now shut up" Y/n murmured, scrolling her phone while working his cock... her hand squeezing it teasingly while his rough action kept pleasuring him, her hand hitting his bases before moving fast back up to the tip... up and down, up.. and down.

His balls where already reacting, getting pulled up by the muscles as his breath got heavier, pathetic whines leaving his mouth.

"Don't stop, don't stop, fuck, Y/n!" Neil nearly cried, arching his back while fucking her hand faster, working on his balls with his own hand to reach faster his peak.

"Fucking hell, how much longer do you need?" Y/n's voice exclaimed making him shiver and whine while her other hand, which was previously holding her phone, slapped his hands away so that she could jerk him off faster and better... already without patience.

"Fucking pathetic" the younger woman murmured, cursing when his warm seed got shot... not only dirtying her hands but her face and top as well due to the bend over position she had been in.

"Neil!—"

[burnyouwithacigarettelighter]

TAKE YOU DOWN A PEG ─── neil lewis ✧𖦹

ೃ⁀➷ “I want you. Your bones. Your body heat. The bite marks your teeth leave. To see how bad and beautiful those eyes look beneath me." — Beau Taplin.

pairing. sub!neil lewis x reader

summary. gumshoe video’s got a rude customer who neil can’t seem to ban…

warnings. swearing, voyeurism, unprotected sex, creampie, p in v, semi-public sex, breathplay, oral sex (m), cockwarming, degradation/insults, SMUT UNDER THE CUT!

word count. 5.3k

a/n. the hardest thing about writing this was scouring letterboxd for obscure films that i think neil would foam over. pls don’t beat me to death if my film references miss the mark 😭

Neil loves his job. Seriously, seriously, he does. It's completely self-satisfying, his personal passion project that’s taken up a large amount of his life, and brings him the uttermost joy of allowing him to do what he does best: recommend films. 

Gumshoe Video is like his fucking baby, and he takes care of it, immensely; he wipes down every tape every Sunday, he sweeps the floor and rearranges the furniture, he organizes the tapes almost constantly, and he does his hardest to provide stellar, passionate - if almost annoying - film advice. He wants the reviews up on this place, alright, otherwise it feels like he’s letting his baby down. 

Now, if there’s one thing Neil hates about his job, just one minor, teensy weensy thing, it’s probably you. You, the rude customer who came in three months ago and has come in everyday since. 

The day you and Neil Lewis met was one just like the rest. Gumshoe Video was promoting old spaghetti westerns; Neil was wearing a cowboy hat and opening deliveries from a video tape shop in Calabasas that had closed down; you were coming off work and were daydreaming, dizzily entering shops to get your mind off the irritatingly mundane job you had. Unlike Neil, you fucking hate your job. 

You had entered Gumshoe, browsing lazily through the Film Noir section, when Neil sprung up like a weed behind you, speaking animatedly about how the best film noir’s had to be Casablanca, Sunset Boulevard, or Double Indemnity, and if you’d ever watched them before. 

As Neil blabbered on, your left eyebrow became increasingly raised. Finally having enough of him, you spoke. “So, are you one of those guys that talk all over the girl and ask them if they’ve ever seen Citizen Kane, or if I can even name five Ingmar Bergman movies for you?”

Neil spluttered, flustered with being confronted about his obsessive cinephile talking habit of carrying the conversation away like a track runner in a relay race going off with the baton in the wrong direction. “What? I was just —“

“— name dropping film noir’s, ‘cause I’m some ditzy, uncultured bimbo bitch who mistakenly walked in, right?” You said, rolling your eyes. Later, in retrospect, you’ll wonder if you were too rude; then, you’ll remember you don’t give a fuck, you were having a bad day, and Neil Lewis had one hell of an annoying face. 

Neil’s face grew offended, an irritated furrowed brow wiggling onto his features. “If you don’t want to watch what I recommend, you don’t have to!” he exclaimed, arms up placatingly in the air. 

“Uh huh, okay, and you don’t have to shove your pretentious cinephile knowledge up my ass.”

He just stared at you, boring his bright blue eyes into your own, face contorted so exasperatedly you might as well have climbed up to the stars, plucked the moon from the sky, and used it as a pillow. 

My god, Neil thought. Are you just a rude customer? Or did you get off on berating small businesses like a sadistic freak?

After a moment of you two staring each other down in the fluorescent artificial light of Gumshoe, both looking terribly affronted, you left. 

Neil would then rant about this “insane customer” for at least twelve hours straight to anyone who’d liste. The next day, the distasteful experience was extremely close to thereby fully exiting his mind, but didn’t, because you, yes, you, walked in again. 

You shot straight daggers with your eyes at Neil, but your expression became soft, demure, and gentle when you saw Jonathan manning the register instead. You trailed through the aisles unperturbed, Jonathan too busy sporting a hangover from working the late shift at that obscure speakeasy copycat bar (in which, as often as possible, he would sneak a shot to stay awake) to recommend films. 

In any case, that was Neil’s job, and Jonathan leaned over to whisper in his ear: “Neil, man, do me a favor and please distract that customer -- fuck, this headache’s killing me…”

Neil protested, shaking his head rapidly. “That’s her.”

“Her who?”

“Her! The - customer who -- who yelled at me!” 

Jonathan blinked blearily, clearly still too incapacitated to think about the matter much. “She yelled at you… and she’s back. Here. And why exactly is that…?”

“To yell at me s’more, probably!” Neil whisper-shouted incredulously. 

Suddenly, you broke Neil and Jonathan out of their not-so-quiet argument by slamming down Gumshoe Video’s copies of Casablanca, Sunset Boulevard, and Double Indemnity. The irony did not miss Neil - honestly, it was a little on the nose, even for him. 

“Thought I’d see what all the rage was.” you explained “sweetly”, gesturing to Neil as you spoke, indignation seeping through your every word. Your grudge was, well, mostly unexplained, ‘cept for the fact you yourself were an avid cinephile, had watched those three movies more than you could count, and did not take Neil’s “have you watched these before” kindly. 

Thus started you and Neil’s long-winded rivalry slash animosity slash terribly caustic back-and-forth correspondence. 

You keep coming to Gumshoe Video, because, despite your anger towards Neil, you fucking adore the place. The films are downright amazing, the atmosphere is like fucking heaven with the walls lined full of video tapes, decorated in classic film props, campy lifesize cardboard cutouts making you jump at every turn, and Gumshoe Video’s concept is insanely different (and lightyears better) than the corporate monolith that is Media Giant. 

He keeps coming to Gumshoe Video because, again, Neil loves his job, and treats Gumshoe like he carried it for nine months and has been lovingly raising it for the five years it's been open. 

From that first incident, you and Neil’s relationship twisted a little into something like this: you come in, insult him on whatever costume he’s wearing, return the tapes you rented the other night, argue with him for exactly an hour and a half on the couch, insult him for another ten as you browse the store, ignore his film recommendations, and rent three more movies. 

He waits for you to enter, wears the ugliest costume he owns to visually assault you, gladly takes the tapes back, argues with you for 1 and ½ hours, fires back retorts as you insult him, recommends movies he thinks will make you jump out your apartment window, and gives you your movies. 

You’re the minor, teensy weensy headache Neil experiences everyday, but at least, at the very least, Gumshoe makes daily dollars from your rentals - kinda like the payback or relief fund a town gets after a hurricane’s run through it. 

But, (somewhat?) shamefully… there’s a reason Neil doesn’t just ban you from the store and live his life without ever thinking of you again. 

This reason occurred to him a month ago, when he was in the backroom, pasting barcodes and information stickers on tapes that were yet to be placed in the store. You were looking for the washroom, awkwardly stumbling through the back hallway of Gumshoe Video, and since you couldn’t find Neil — he, in spite of the nature of your relationship, trusted you to look around and rent the tapes by yourself, having done it several times while arguing with him at the counter — you had to brave through it alone.

Now, the thing about the room Neil was in — more of a shoe closet than a room, honestly — was that it was locked from the outside, and he didn’t have the key. The key was currently in the hands of one Lucien, who had gone to buy takeout for the two of them because of the late night cataloging of new tapes ahead of them. 

And… he was taking about a hundred years to come back because he was trying to get the cashier’s number at their usual Chinese restaurant. 

Anyway, imagine this: you’re looking for the washroom, and the door to a small room is propped open. You enter, don’t think much of the small stack of empty tape boxes acting as a door stopper, and let it close. The light in there is dim, just a shitty little ceiling light; Neil turns, tapes in his hand; you turn, after closing the door. 

Finally, remember: the room is more of a shoe closet than a room.

“Jesus -- christ!” Neil yelped, startled at your sudden appearance. “What  -- the hell are you doing here?” 

“I take it this isn’t the bathroom?” You murmured, ignoring his question and shifting uncomfortably. Seriously, the tape closet was only meant for one person in it at a time. 

If the lights were brighter, you would’ve seen how hard Neil rolled his eyes; they almost rolled out of his head. “Well, I don’t think so, given the lack of toilet, sink, and light, no.”

“Well, Neil,” you purred, hot breath curling around the sensitive skin of his neck, “maybe, just maybe, you should have a sign for the bathroom, so I don’t have my tits any closer to your face than I want them to.” You said this sweetly, voice husky, low, and oddly sultry, but Neil knew better than that: you probably wanted to fucking kill him right now.

You were right, though; your tits were flush Neil’s bandy chest, the heat between you two growing the longer you were this close in proximity. 

“Now get me out of here,” you said quickly after, ignoring how warm Neil felt against your body. You’d turned so your back faced him, hands twisting at the silver knob of the door - which, Neil honestly didn’t know why was there, considering it didn’t fucking work. 

Neil sighed. “The door locks from the outside.” 

“What?” You said, distracted by leaning down to press your weight against the door like it was just sticky. Moments later, “…What?” you all but shrieked, hands falling from the knob, turning to face him once more. 

And, again, if the lights were brighter you’d have seen Neil’s face better: he was bright fucking red, because, apparently not accounting for the small space of the room, you’d leaned and obliviously had your ass pressed right against him. It didn’t help that his large, warm hands, having long since dropped the tapes he was labeling, hung near the flesh of your rear, having nowhere else to go in the limited space.

Neil thanked the small mercy God graced upon him that there wasn’t any kind of friction, so his soft cock remained just that: soft, and barely noticed by you. 

“The door locks from the outside.” Neil repeated breathlessly, the amount of air in the shoe-box room being incredibly small, too small to share between the two of you. 

“Fucking…” You cursed under your breath, shaking your head in disbelief. “So, what, we have to stay here ‘till someone busts us out? What’re you gonna do if I go batshit and eat you or something?”

“For one, Lucien isn’t going to take that long to come back. Anyway, why’re you assuming you’ll overpower me - what if I go batshit and tear into you?”

You snorted, like the connotation he could overpower you was completely implausible. “Neil, Neil, Neil,” you repeated nonsensically, before lifting a hand up to his shoulder and digging your nails into him, the fabric of his shirt obviously not thick enough to distort your strength. “I could have you pinned down in less than a minute. I do other things than watch movies all day, unlike your lanky ass.”

Neil merely let out a chagrined laugh in response, hands clammy at the thought: you pinning him down— he then shook himself mentally, about to slap himself upside the head. Fucking hell, this situation was doing things to him. 

“You don’t believe me?” You retorted with a raised brow. Swiftly, your hands curled around Neil’s wrists, pinning them behind him and pressing his back against you. “How about now, huh?” you whispered softly in his ear, making his head swim. 

Your chin rested on his shoulder, your nose brushing against his neck, and it took everything in Neil not to let out a breathy keen — this was all too much for him: your touch, your voice, and the apparent dawning on him that he found you terribly, massively, attractive. 

“Fuck, I, er - - um,” Neil scrambled for a response, when the door to the tape closet suddenly opened. Your hands released him immediately, and you strided out, breathing in deeply. 

On the other side stood Lucien, plastic takeout bag in one hand, closet key in the other. “What happened to you?” he asked confusedly, as Neil filed out after you, gaze trained on your stretching figure walking off. 

“We got, uh -- locked, in the- in the tape closet.” Neil murmured, thoughts still fuzzy from your rough touch. 

“With her?” Lucien shuddered, handing Neil the chinese takeout bag sympathetically. “You need this food more than I do.”

So, there it was. Neil’s reason. He would’ve called you an insufferable bitch that he never wanted to see enter Gumshoe Video ever again hundreds of times by now — if your sensual voice insulting him didn’t get him all tight in the pants. 

He began having thoughts — thoughts of you. You, whispering vulgar, humiliating words in his ear, your hands carding his hair, pulling tight against his scalp, selfishly making him do whatever you wanted him to do, no matter his pleas. 

The fantasy was unlike anything Neil had dreamed up before, having always believed it should be him on top, him controlling the situation, him dominating — but it wasn’t a bad one. He’d come faster than he ever did before, just by imagining you were rolling your hips into his own… your strength pinning him down… your lips brushing past the shell of his ear, telling him he was so fucking dirty, so filthy for being this needy. 

However, that was all just a vague, distant pipedream, especially with how you seem to actually hate him. All the interaction he’d had with you consisted of poisonous, irritated words, insults and curses — which had him feeling both incredibly turned on, and sick at the fact he was attracted to you just by being mean to him. 

Sometime after that, nearing the end of the work day, Neil was the only one left there: Jonathan had taken the morning shift, and Lucien was, surprisingly, on a date with the cashier at their usual Chinese restaurant place. Looks like he succeeded in getting her number, while Neil had been pressed against you in that tiny tape closet, moments away from getting a hard-on. 

So, Neil was the only one there - and you were the only customer there. Your daily routine of stopping by and verbally attacking him was late today, so it was nearing midnight when you and Neil sat on the couch and began arguing. 

“I’m sure your “manly” ego isn’t at all pathetic and easily hurt by the superiority of Mia Farrow’s performance in Rosemary’s Baby.” You spat, leaning into the diverse array of old throw pillows that sat on the couch day after day. 

Neil rolled his eyes, hands up in the air animatedly. “My manly ego - and I don’t enjoy the sarcasm nor the air quotes you’re using - isn’t pathetic, nor easily hurt! Mia Farrow just wasn’t better than John Cassavetes was. I stand by the fact they were equal.”

You let out a disbelieving laugh, your hand coming down on Neil’s knee to dig into him angrily. “Neil, I don’t expect you to understand her performance - I don’t think anyone does, not with that little cinephile brain you have. Do you do any thinking up there, or is it just The Treasure of the Sierra Madre on rewind?”

Neil flushed, both at the insults and how your hand was on his fucking leg. “What about you? What is it that makes you keep coming back here if you think my opinion is so… worthless and entitled?” 

You grit your teeth, leaning in closer to him. “Because, Neil, this is the only other video tape shop for miles, and I will not be caught dead at Media Giant. Trust me, I despise this - “arrangement” of ours, far more than you do.”

He huffed, his gaze trailing over your features, unable to come up with a response: he was too busy focussing, trying not to zero in on how your face was inches away from one his, your fingers oddly inching up his thigh. 

“Don’t go making this about me. Why is it,” your continued, hands traced dizzying circles into the fabric of his jeans, “that you don’t just kick me out? I come in here, day after day, berating you, ignoring your recommendations… shouldn’t I have been banned a long time ago?”

Neil gulped. “You’re still a - a customer, one who rents daily I might add—“

You smirked up at him. “Don’t lie to me. I know Gumshoe’s doing just fine… and I heard you, y’know? Last week… in your office.”

“What? What are you talking about?” He stammered out, racking his head for what he might’ve been doing in his office— fuck. 

Fuck, he thought, mind racing rapidly, he thought you had already left by the time he started— 

“I heard you, hiding in your office… stroking yourself, moaning my name.” 

You’d rented just one tape last Friday, for a movie date with a guy from work, and you almost left - before realizing Neil took your membership card and never gave it back. You waltzed back in, and to your obvious surprise, Neil wasn’t at the register. 

“Neil?” You called out softly, trying not to spark an argument with him that would span hours, because you were trying to show up to this date on time. 

You walked down the back hallway, and found his office door, which had a gleaming NEIL LEWIS printed on its foggy glass. 

Your hand had almost reached for the handle, his name on the tip of your tongue, when you heard a needy whine slip past the door. Shocked, you lingered and pulled your hand away, pressing your ear against the pane to listen closer. 

“God, fuck,” you heard Neil curse, his name slipping from your lips like a prayer. “Need you so bad,” you heard him whisper to no-one but himself, before a low moan belted out of him. 

Your face grew warm, immediately, flushed at the news that Neil-fuckin’-Lewis was jerking off, in his office, mumbling your name. You squeezed your eyes shut, continuing to listen to his pretty voice, and after several moments of your lust-riddled mind drinking in his sweet noises, how he was so focussed on his pleasure while completely oblivious to your listening in, you found one of your hands coming up to tweak your erect nipple — fuck, his stuttered little moans had your cunt pulsing with utter need.

Neil was getting close, you could tell, hearing him buck into - what you assumed - was his wooden desk, sloppily muffled mewls leaving his mouth. 

You were biting down on your lip, hard, an incredible amount of self control in place. The man was so horny, sounding so fucking submissive it drove you insane: just the thought that he’d bend to your will and do whatever you wanted made your legs clench.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending who you ask, you felt your phone begin buzzing in the waistband of your modesty shorts - probably the date you were late for - and you had quickly fled. 

“Oh, jesus,” Neil blurted out now, alarmed, immediately in the flight part of fight or flight. “I- whatever you heard, I can - I can explain, really, so please don’t—“

Your hand gripped his thigh, keeping him from getting up. “Hey, hey, shh,” you said, bringing a finger to your lips. “You don’t have to explain yourself. I know, just as well as you do, how bad you want me.”

Truly, Neil couldn’t control himself that night. You had walked in, wearing a delicious little dress with a sweetheart neckline, strolling around in 3-inch heels, cooing mockingly at his costume for that week’s theme — a criminal wearing nifty little handcuffs to promote the double feature promotion of crime films and dramas — purposely leaning down to make him feel smaller than you. 

Neil had flushed, looking away, willing himself not to let out a needy groan at your get-up, instead silently checking out your tape rentals and quickly handing them back to you. After you’d walked out of the store, he’d dashed to his office, feeling the tent in his pants grow warm, aching. 

Quite similarly to how he felt now, your eyes coursing over his entire form, so close Neil felt himself sinking into the couch. 

“Look how fucking hard you are already.” you whispered, hand drawing away from his thigh and reaching for the bulge in his jeans, palming him between the fabric. “Does it turn you on? The fact you got caught?”

Neil’s breath hitched. “Fuck, please, I—“ 

“You’re so pathetic.” You said, laughing at him. “I can feel how big you are, such a thick cock, and all you know how to do with it is beg.”

Your plush lips were curled into a cheshire grin, baring your sharp teeth at him, and Neil was ashamed at how badly he wanted those teeth to press painful bites into his sensitive skin. 

He was about to whine again, plead desperately, but he shut up when you slipped off the couch, sinking to your knees, fingers undoing his belt buckle and fly. Shifting his jeans down, you dipped your hand down the waistband of his boxers and pulled his cock out: it was angry, hard and begging for release. 

But you wanted to tease him before you got to the good part. First, your warm breath fanned over his cock, making him jump, trying to rut up into your mouth, and your soft lips slipping past his leaking head had his hands tugging at your hair, trying to pull you closer to him. 

You thinned your eyes and got up, hand pressing his cheeks together and forcing his jaw open. You spit into his mouth, then patronizingly patted his face, “Do that again and I won’t touch you - I’ll take my tapes and leave you a needy fucking mess on this couch.”

Neil groaned, your spit foreign and hot on his tongue like lava. “God, I… I just wanna — want you so bad.” 

You tutted, sinking back down on your knees to face his rock hard length up and pressed flat against his abdomen. “Not yet. You haven’t earned it, you desperate fucking pervert. D’you know who jerks off in their office to someone they barely know? Fucking perverts.”

He leaned his head back, a moan leaving his lips at your insulting choice of words. It felt like you were torturing him, but his body wanted nothing more than you. 

Your lips then ghosted past him for another moment before you started your assault on his strained cock: you laid tentative kitten licks all the way down his length, enjoying how he squirmed under you, wanting nothing more but your wet mouth around him. Then, without warning, you took him in your mouth whole, tongue dragging and curling around his cock. You devoured him salaciously, hollowing your cheeks, sliding his cock in and out of your full mouth at an alarming speed, hitting the back of your neck with each thrust. 

Your tongue felt heavenly on his cock: wet, warm, and sticky, lapping at him without stopping. Your teeth grazed against him lightly, and Neil’s back arched into your touch. 

He was practically convulsing now, drooling as his eyes rolled to the back of his head at the pure pleasure you were inflicting on him with no split second or moment for him to regain his composure. You wanted to see him fall apart, come undone just by your mouth, he realized, and he wanted to let you, wanted to let go — but, as fast as you’d taken his hard cock into your mouth, you let him drop from your lips. 

“Why did you - please, fuck -- why did you stop?!” Neil whimpered noisily, head rolling onto his chest to look down at your face: lips plump, faint tear tracks running off your cheeks, your gagged spit falling from your chin. 

“I oughta take you down a peg, Neil. Show you what a dumb fucking loser you are, pretending you’re so confident, so dominant, like you know everything there is about movies.” You responded nonchalantly, getting up and shedding your panties and leggings. 

“M’not dumb,” he whined, looking at you through heavy lidded eyes, “god, you’re killing me here.”

“You’ll live,” you grinned, climbing on his lap and lining your wet sex with the fat head of his cock. Then you descended down on him, watching blissfully as his cock disappeared into your folds.

Neil’s hands wrapped around your waist, burying his face into your neck. He mewled against your skin, drunk on your tantalizing scent, lips wet with drool and leaving a slick trail. 

Despite your dominance in this situation, completely controlling Neil’s pleasure, you couldn’t control your own: Neil’s cock felt fucking good, long and thick in all the right places, a curve that arched right against your cervix, veins rubbing against your walls pleasantly. He stretched your cunt completely, making you wince, but there was still pleasure there, the feeling of your crevices being filled with his fat cock making your toes curl. 

After a moment of getting used to his cock, you rose back up, then sunk down, your hands gripping his shoulders for dear life. Neil’s head shot back, a labored cry leaving him as you set a steady, almost too slow pace, torturously sliding his cock in and out of your tight hole. 

Your hands trailed across his still-clothed chest, and you grieved the chance lost to have stripped him, your touch teasing him every step of the way — but having him deep within you was probably better. 

“Your- fuck, you’re so -- so soft,” Neil squeaked below you, revelling in how you took him, bottoming out each time like it was nothing. 

You simpered at his words, how helpless he was, succumbing to the pleasure; to you. “Knew you were,” you slammed down on his cock, making Neil choke, “pretending to be arrogant. You just needed someone to put you in your place.” 

Neil hadn’t realized it wasn’t a rhetorical question until your hand came up to his hair, tangling through his locks and tugging. “Who d’you belong to? Who put you in your place?” you murmured lowly. 

He whimpered at your roughness, leaning into the sofa obediently. “You! You own me,” he pleaded, desperately chasing his own pleasure. 

“That’s it,” you said, shutting your eyes, bobbing up and down on his cock faster. Your ass bounced above him, and Neil’s hands rested on the flesh of your rear, massaging you. 

Greedily, Neil tried to thrust into you, but you weren’t having any of it, deterring his attempts by pushing him so he laid flat on the couch, your hands pinning his wrists above his head, the new position pushing him deeper into you. 

“You stay down, you dirty fuckin’ loser,” you said caustically, but your actions said otherwise: your walls were squeezing around him needily, your cunt sucking him in so far you could feel his balls brushing against your clit. 

The tip of his cock brushed past your g-spot each time you rutted into him, and soon enough you felt it: that pulsing, that heat, that familiar coiling within your insides. Neil was reaching it too, his face flushed pink and his breathing as heavy as it was back then, in the tape closet. 

You began thumping down on him, your fingers tightening around his scalp. Your pace had gotten feverish, bordering feral, both your minds focussed on one thing: release. You could feel your cunt tensing, your mind going foggy, and then, there it was: your pleasure ran through you like electric current, shocking your body. You felt numb, tingly like when the blood flow to your arm gets cut off for a moment, making your pace stutter. 

You didn’t stop, however, riding out your high on his cock, bouncing up and down on Neil’s thick length. He felt fucking delicious, piercing you in all the right ways, and you adored how malleable he was right now: so horny and submissive he stopped speaking and was merely letting dirty moans leave his mouth without any protest. His gaze, his focus, was elsewhere, lost in the deep haze of pleasure your cunt was subjecting him too. 

You leaned down, pressing small love-bites onto his skin like he’d fantasized so many times before, and it broke him out of his stupor. “Did you think of this, in your office?” you whispered, “did you think of me, my tits bouncing, your cock deep in my cunt?”

“Ugh,” Neil groaned, reveling in how your seductive voice sounded like music. He was much, much closer than he thought, and when you licked up his jaw, your hot breath on the shell of his ear making him sweat, your cunt still fucking him roughly, he let go. 

You felt it first, the familiar liquid bursting past his thick head and painting your fleshy walls creamy, like a new coat of alabaster that Gumshoe desperately needed. 

“So good, so wet,” Neil groaned, shutting his eyes and pressing his forehead to yours. You stared at him, watching his lewd expression throughout his entire high, waiting for that beautiful blue gaze of his to open and face you again. 

“I’m milking you dry. Look how fucking full you’ve made me, you filthy pervert.” You were taking him for every drop he could offer, and it was delectable. 

You two were heaving now, both coming down from your highs. You’d effectively ruined the couch, your slick soaking the cushions and his jeans, as well as his come, which was leaning out of your still-stuffed hole. 

“I think you’ve gotta replace this manky ass couch, Neil,” was the first thing you said, your hands sliding down from their grip in his hair to his pink cheeks, rubbing his skin delicately. 

His eyes opened, watching you carefully. “It was about time,” Neil shrugged breathlessly. “Do you… do you actually - hate me?” he continued, murmuring self-consciously. 

You laughed, but it wasn’t sharp, not at him like before, no; it was tender, like a scarf Neil wanted to wrap around him in the winter time.

“I never hated you,” you murmured, tone reverent, “you’re just a little, how does it go…”

“Presumptuous?” Neil finished for you. 

You nodded, then grasped at his shirt and pulled him from the couch so he was sitting upright again. “Jus’ wanted to, ahem, “take you down a peg” like I said earlier..” you trailed off, cheeks growing warm remembering your earlier behavior during sex. 

This was all very new, to the both of you — you, in all your relationships and flings, were not the dominant partner. You guessed there was a first time for everything.

Then, you were about to get off his lap, but Neil held you steady on his cock. “Don’t go,” he said simply. “I’ve got Brief Encounter in the player, if you want to, y’know…” 

He wasn’t hard anymore, but it just felt good, cozy, having you two talk and regain your composure with him filling you nicely. It felt right. 

You smiled, a gummy, blissful smile. “Okay. I’ve actually never seen this,” you said, turning to face the tv, wincing slightly. 

“Really?” Neil said, an amazed joy seeping into his voice. 

“I’m joking,” you snorted, and you could practically see Neil pouting behind you. “But I don’t think we’ll be paying much attention…” you purred, clenching your thighs around his length. 

“Jesus fuck,” Neil groaned behind you, hands coming under your shirt, “you’re exactly like those movies.”

“I’m even better, baby.” 

[red-riding-wood]

I Want You to Want Me

Pairing: Neil Lewis x F!Reader

Fandom: Watching the Detectives

Summary: Neil receives a frantic call and finds you outside of Gumshoe after a date night gone wrong. Secretly habouring feelings for you ever since the two of you met, he finds you oddly irresistable in your tears and torn fishnets.

Warnings: SMUT, mutual pining, dub-con touching, dryhumping, riding, foreplay, teasing, begging (m), masturbation (m), clothed sex (semi), Neil being a wet paper towel, so just Neil being Neil, pervy Neil, switch!Neil, slight dom but mostly sub!Neil because c'mon guys it's NEIL, slight dom!reader, body worship, public sex (technically?), premature ejaculation (sort of?), angst, some fluff? by my standards anyway lol so take that with a grain of salt -- this ended up being more wholesome than I thought it would be

Inspired by this cover of I Want You To Want Me (the reader's song) and Creep (Neil's song) by Radiohead.

Huge thanks to @your-nanas-house for getting me started with a prompt for this and cheering me on!

Totally nicked the "jock boyfriend" inspo from @cillianmesoftlyyy's fic here; go check that out if you want more spicy Neil content, because it was fantastic!

And thank you and also fuck you to @rysko for dramatically beta reading this in my ear WHILE I WAS TRYING TO MAKE THE HEADER

And now that I'm done thanking every fic writer on tumblr, my parents, the Royal Society for the Prevention of Birds, and Saturn and all of its rings, enjoy your filth!

WC: 4239

He found you outside the back door of Gumshoe, huddled against the concrete step, the cool air of the spring night nipping at the wet tears that streaked your cheeks, the slight breeze stirring a shiver from one fretful limb to the next. The whites of your eyes burned red beneath the faint glow of the lanterns atop the neighbour’s picket fence. It wasn’t exactly the most incognito place to cry your eyes out, but you didn’t have a key to Neil’s store, and it was nearly three in the morning. 

“Hey, I got your call. What’s going on?” A familiar voice broke the pitiful sounds of your sobbing, and the tension of your shoulders eased if only slightly at the mere sound. 

You tried to answer past your sobs, but found that your words came only in hiccups, in broken fragments of your splintered heart, and it didn’t take long for him to sweep an arm around your shoulders, lowering himself to sit beside you on the cold step. Instinctively, you found yourself leaning into his touch, trembling against the warmth of his body. 

Neil was never really great at these sorts of things to begin with, but it certainly didn’t help that his attention was drawn to the low-cut top where a tear streaked down the groove of your breasts, to the fishnets that you’d torn on your way out the door of your boyfriend’s, to the short skirt that rode up just enough for him to catch a glimpse of the lace hem of your panties. 

He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry, and he tried to keep his eyes on the face you so desperately tried to hide with your trembling fingers, for you were ashamed of your unkempt appearance. You must’ve looked like a cheap whore – a mess of one, no less. You couldn’t tell what was more embarrassing: the way you were dressed, like you were begging for attention, or the way your emotions seized you so cruelly that you could scarcely breathe. 

“Hey.” His warm, careful touch landed on your wrist, and as you pulled your fingers from your lashes, they came away black with smudged mascara. “I’m here,” your friend said. “Tell me what happened.”

You could still only speak in hiccups and broken vowels.

“Shhh,” Neil soothed you, fingers running up and down your spine, sending tiny shivers through each nerve as the fabric of your shirt bunched and his skin brushed yours. “Shhh. I’m here.”

Resting your head on his shoulder, your hair spilled in sticky threads over the jacket that, judging by the slight musty scent that lingered in the weave of the corduroy, had probably missed one too many washes. But you didn’t care. You’d come to appreciate the little imperfections about him, the details of his scent that made Neil Neil. Like the waxy tinge that seemed to always cling to his fingers after a long shift of rolling back tapes. Like the silk cream and smoke of the vanilla candle you’d gifted him last week. Like the artificial scent of cheap shaving cream and the slightest hint of blood where he’d nicked himself with the razor. The musk of his sweat and skin, buried beneath all these little things that you’d come to know almost as intimately as your own.

But there was something else, something you couldn’t quite pinpoint. And its unfamiliarity unnerved you.

His other hand came to rest on your knee, hot as fire in the cold of night. He thumbed at the tear in your fishnets and looked at you with bright, concerned eyes, but he used this as an excuse to touch you.

“Did he hurt you?” Neil asked. His hand stayed on your knee. In a way, it felt comforting; it grounded you enough so that, finally, after lulled by the rise and fall of his shoulder and the unique blend of his scent, you could speak.

“Is that cologne?” You wrinkled your nose and drew back to look him in the eye, your tangled hair peeling reluctantly from his corduroy jacket.

A rose blush came upon Neil’s cheeks, and he smiled nervously. He’d been sure to spritz himself with a good helping of it before he left, despite his hurried state. He needed to impress you; ever since you’d started dating that jock from across the street, he’d been trying to find more ways to steal your attention back.

“Yeah, it’s new,” he said, a little flustered, in a way that made your stomach flutter. “I wanted to ask for your opinion on what I should get, but you – well…” His voice cracked a bit as a hint of sadness crept into his tone. “… you’ve been pretty busy lately.”

“It’s awful,” you told him, laughing slightly, and your words seemed to cheer him up; his lips tugged into that playful grin of his again, and a deep chuckle rumbled from his throat.

And then you both fell into silence, and he looked back to your knee, still thumbing the skin where the fabric had torn.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Neil said.

You swallowed, another lump forming in your throat, and when you looked at him, bottom lip in your teeth, reddened eyes pouting, rimmed by your messed mascara, his heart sped in his chest in both fear and arousal. The thought of James even touching you boiled his blood, made his skin crawl and tightened a noose round his neck, but seeing you like this, baring your soul to him with those tear-brimmed eyes and mournfully upturned brows, it made him want you even more.

If he’d been the one to take you out tonight, he would’ve brought you home to his bed, worshipped each inch of your hallowed skin and made love to you like you were the only woman in the world, splayed his fingers across your thighs and parted them like a sea, dropped to his knees and prayed with the hungered strokes of his tongue and lapped at your holy waters.

He’d started reading poetry lately. It had felt right; it was the only thing that seemed to express just how he felt about you. Echoed the words in private like they were gospel; chanted your name from desperate lips as he palmed himself each night – and morning – to your photographs, to the vanilla of the candle that reminded him so much of you, to the fantasy of your sweat-slicked thighs wrapped around his waist, your walls clenched around him as he bucked his hips against your weight and finally let himself go, spilling himself inside you and hearing you moan so sweetly for him from those heavenly lips, feeling his own cum dampen his stomach as you collapsed over him. He always knew you’d be so tight, that you’d fit so perfect around him.

But sitting here, staring at your shivering, impotent form in your torn fishnets and your skimpy attire, he could barely contain the urge to tear open your knees and fuck you against the concrete. It had been so long since he’d even been this close to you; James took up all of your time nowadays, and gone were the late movie nights and stolen games of basketball on the breaks he took so liberally.

He missed you. So much.

And you knew it. You knew it, deep in your chest where the remnants of your heart twisted, still hearing the words, “You’ve been pretty busy lately.”

You shook your head, choking out another sob as shame crept along your skin, and you shivered at its grotesque touch. “No, he didn’t hurt me… not – not in that way.”

You couldn’t look at him; his pearlescent blue eyes and his sun-kissed freckles and his boyish brown locks all fading into memory as you buried your face in his chest, inhaling once more the faint scent of his laundry detergent and the musk of him beneath the shirt that was flipped inside-out but still outlined the blatant logo of Back to the Future. Whether he hadn’t realised he’d put it on backwards or he’d been shy about it, you couldn’t be sure, but it lightened your heart all the same, your sobs turning to giggles.

Neil pulled you closer, his chin resting along the nape of your neck and his hand running up your thigh; you barely noticed how near his hand was to your panties as you tugged at his shirt, nails sinking past the fabric as if to keep him and never let him go.

You regretted all that time you’d spent with James, when you should have been spending it with him instead. Everything felt so much easier with him; your smiles were broader, your laughter more carefree.

But you wanted more – selfish and lovesick, you wanted more than what he already gave you. You needed more than his attention and his friendship.

You needed him to want you.

“I thought that…” You sniffled. “… I thought that James wanted me. I dressed up all… nice… fucking whorish… and I thought tonight was finally the night and that he would’ve… that he would’ve…”

The words twisted in your throat, and you squeezed your eyes shut. Two hours ago, when you did up your makeup and clothes for your date with James, you’d felt sexy. Powerful, even.

Now, you just felt worthless.

Neil nestled his nose in the crook of your neck, brushed the silk strands of your hair aside, breathed your scent in so deeply that for a moment, the butterflies came back to the pit of your stomach.

“I just want to be wanted,” you admitted, losing it, sobbing uncontrollably into the now-damp shirt that clung to his thin frame. “I just want to be desired. That was the only reason I was with him, Neil. The way he looked at me that day when he came into the store, I…”

With a bitter pang in his chest, Neil remembered that day. The way James had looked at you like you were a piece of meat. The way he’d asked you if had any recommendations on which sports film he should rent and Neil had practically wedged himself between the two of you and started chattering to James about every little piece of trivia he knew about Chariots of Fire and Rocky. How, despite his efforts, James had still gone home with your number as well as the tapes. How you’d come in the next morning with a hickey on your neck and Neil had just known that where James had paused one of the tapes was when your movie night was likely cut short by… things he’d rather not think about ever again.

It should’ve been his couch you’d been curled up on, should’ve been him watching the movie with you. His mark on your neck.

And he would’ve picked something a little more fitting for the mood, too. Something more like Casablanca or Sin City. It was as if James didn’t even have to try to get you drooling over him. What was so special about him, anyway?

I wish I was special, Neil thought.

Neil’s grip on you tightened at the memory, nails digging in to the flesh of your thigh in a way that stirred a little gasp from your lungs, huffing against his collarbone as you tilted your head up to look at him.

“Y/N.”  His breath caught in his throat, and he reluctantly pulled from your neck to look you in the eye, locks of messy hair falling across his forehead and his eyes half-lidded. His fingers ghosted up your thigh, and you blinked past the sharp mint of his mouthwash – it burned your eyes slightly, but you didn’t care. You were so close to him, your breaths became one, a few threads of his hair tickling your cheeks and his nose brushing yours.

“Neil,” you breathed, the slightest of smiles tugging at your lip as your heart thudded between your legs, dangerously close to his fingers. Warmth spread across each fevered limb, taking you somewhere past the cold concrete and bitter chill of the wind, somewhere away from the graffiti-painted alley and the reek of broken booze bottles. Somewhere safe, and warm, and thrilling all at once.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” Neil’s voice cracked around the words, a nervous laugh huffing against your fluttering lashes as his freckled cheeks darkened another shade of red. The hand that wasn’t between your legs played with a lock of your hair, twirling it in his finger but still supporting you beneath a quivering arm.

You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t believe this was real.

He had to have been playing some sick joke, right?

But the whimper that fell from his lips was very real, as his nails dug into your flesh again and he tugged you closer, his hips arching upward against your outer thigh.

“You look more than nice. You’re so fucking hot in this skirt, in anything you wear. That asshole is fucking blind,” he breathed, fingers grazing your panties and landing over your hipbone, testing the waters more and more as he tried not to rock his growing arousal too obviously against you.

But you noticed. You noticed the way his cock hardened and twitched beneath your weight; you noticed how even despite his body trembling from his attempts to resist his primal urges, his hips still gave little bucks upward, seeking friction. Seeking the heat that flared between your thighs, that ached for him so desperately that it was all you could do not to return the favour.

He couldn’t take it anymore. Staring into those gorgeous, bright eyes. Looking up at him with anything but innocence. So he scooped both hands around your ass, squeezing the flesh and lace and tugging you properly onto his lap with an alluring squeal tearing from your full lips.

“I want you, Y/N.” His hot breath pooled at your collarbone as he trailed wet, sloppy kisses along your jaw, your neck, and your lips parted in another gasp, back arching and thighs clenching around his waist as you ground wet panties against the bulge in his trousers.

“I fucking need you,” he whined, nipping like a needy puppy at the delicate skin of your neck. “Always have.” Another kiss. “Ever since I first saw you. Long before James.” A possessive growl stirred from his throat at that, the flare of dominance sending a jolt through your core.

“Neil, I – oh my God.” A moan broke your words as his fingers moved up your spine and his teeth grazed your collarbone, hovering over your pulse point.

“Fuck, baby. Say that again. Just like that.” His fingers began rolling your shirt up over the lip of your breasts, the sight enough to make him whine again in need. He couldn’t help himself from groping you, squeezing your breasts and rolling one nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Bending his neck to trail more sloppy kisses down your torso, they were his next destination.

“Oh my – Neil. Neil, I – “ You had so much to tell him, so much you needed off your chest, but his hips bucked sharply against you at the sound of his name moaned so beautifully, a low groan in his throat and his cock digging slightly inside your heat, the fabric of your panties scraping almost painfully against your walls.

“Please, Y/N, please don’t make me stop. Please let me keep touching you like this. I wanna worship you.” His hot breath shattered against a pert nipple. “Wanna fucking prove to you how much I want you.”

For a few moments, you were rendered speechless, mind whirring like the wheels on a VHS. Everything was happening so fast, and the warmth of his touch was seeping into you like honey, inundating you in a sort of comforting flame.

He could almost smell the vanilla of the candle wick burning.

You left nail marks down his chest where you clawed at the collar of his shirt, but he didn’t care. He sucked a nipple past his teeth and moaned around the taste of you, the sound so filthy that your eyes nearly rolled back in your skull as your parted lips tipped to the heavens. His name outlined by their perfect shape.

Reality came crashing down around you as you jumped, another squeal leaving your tongue as his teeth bit at your nipple and pain shot along your nerve endings.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, chest heaving, looking up at you with reverent eyes. “I didn’t mean to, I – “

You cupped his chin in your palm and shook your head. “No, Neil. I’m sorry.” A tear streaked down your cheek, beaded on your jawline. “I’m so, so sorry.” You were beginning to sob again, and his brow furrowed in concern, thumb beginning to trace small circles along your spine. “I’m sorry I abandoned you for James, I didn’t… I shouldn’t have. I didn’t know you felt this way, I – I’m so sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” he told you, his words sinking into your skin like a warm tide. With one hand, he brushed the tear from your jaw and wove his fingers into your hair, pulling you closer. “Just let me keep touching you. Please.”

When you didn’t respond for a moment, caught up in the way his blue eyes seemed to hollow with a certain hunger, the way his chest rose and fell beneath the bare flesh of your stomach, he uttered that word again:

“Please.”

You smiled, elated and giddy with joy, blood pounding with arousal, and kissed him, threading your own fingers into the fluffy locks of his hair.

Another tear streaked across your lips as they met his, and you tasted like salt and vanilla, slightly waxy from your chap-stick but the sweetest thing he’d tasted nonetheless. At first, he was embarrassed by the noises he made, the way he’d accidentally called you “baby” because he’d always wanted to do so, but he melted beneath you like butter. Nothing mattered anymore except the fact that you were finally his, that you were in his arms and grinding against his cock.

Neil broke the kiss to pull your shirt over your head, tossing it aside somewhere on the concrete – he would buy you a new one. His hands flattened against your back and pulled you flush to his chest, taking any excuse he could to hear that little squeal you made each time.

“Please, baby, please let me be inside you,” he whined, biting his lip as he stared up at you with those powder-blue eyes. Nails dug into your skin. Hips bucked against yours.

Your heart soared with his words, his worship, his want; you’d never been this ecstatic in your whole life. Part of you wanted to keep teasing him, make him beg, while another part of you ached to feel him buried to the hilt inside you.

“Patience, Neil,” you giggled, as you undid his trousers. You worked them down to his knees and your eyes widened as your hand brushed his cock, bare and springing flush against his stomach. You hadn’t expected him to not wear boxers.

Neil smiled sheepishly up at you, eyes still lidded, mouth still panting out a fevered breath. “I was in a rush getting dressed. I…” His cheeks reddened, and there was something so cute about how pathetic he looked in that moment. “You wanna know how much I want you, Y/N? I was touching myself thinking of you when you called.”

Creep, some voice in the back of his head hissed.

You bit your lip to suppress a moan, trying to ward off thoughts of Neil stroking himself to you, finishing to the thought of you. Oh, how you wished you could have witnessed the sight.

“Did you come?” you asked, a devious grin pulling at your lips as you took him in your hand, massaging a bead of pre-cum into his sensitive flesh.

His eyes fluttered, and he shook his head, his words coming out as a breathy whine,

“No, I promise. I didn’t come. Not yet.”

“Will you?” You dipped your head to let your words tickle his neck, your grip on him tightening.

“Yes,” he moaned. “Yes, yes, oh God, I will. Fuck, baby. Fuck, gonna come if you don’t stop that, need to come inside you, please, please…”

His mutterings trailed off into a low hiss of a whine, and your movements stilled, dragging him to his peak and letting him teeter at the edge as you both caught your breaths, chest heaving and a cold chill racing down your sweat-slicked back, thighs trembling around him.

“You sure you can handle this?” you purred against his ear before pulling back once more to witness the shivering mess you’d made him, priding yourself in your accomplishment. Lining his cock up with your entrance, the fabric of your panties scraped his tip teasingly as you slotted them to the side.

Neil looked up at you like you were some kind of goddess, his breathing coming laboured, his throat stripped of words. The dazed, blissful look he gave you was all the answer you needed. But you wanted to reap him of every last praise he had.

“Use your words, Neil,” you giggled, smirking.

“Ah…” His lips parted, near soundless. You watched intently as they formed the word “Please”.

You almost felt bad for him.

But it wasn’t pity that brought your hips down around him, slowly, teasingly, savouring the stretch of him against your walls and the fullness in your belly, but rather, your own need.

Neil’s head rolled back against the brick wall, blood welling at his lip where he bit it to keep himself from toppling over his peak; he nearly did it to himself when he bucked his hips upward, burying himself inside you, making you whimper at the pain that blended so sordidly with the pleasure. Your fingers tugged at his hair, and your nails grazed his scalp, and every little sensation sent him into overdrive. He used these little things to ground himself, as you had his tangled scents; he focused on how smooth your stomach felt against his own, his shirt hiking up so that you were skin to skin; he focused on the noises you made, huffing and whimpering, as you began to ride him; he focused on the softness of the breast that he cupped in his hand. Tried not to think about how you felt better than he’d imagined, how you clenched so tightly around his cock that he was almost pushed out each time you elevated your hips, but were so wet for him that he slid back inside so seamlessly each time.

“Neil,” you moaned as you fucked yourself on his cock, breast bouncing beneath his thumb, skirt fluttering around the bareness of his thighs. “Neil, fuck. Fuck.”

“Baby, I’m s—sorry. I’m gonna…”

You yelped again as pain shot deep inside your core, his hips bucking against yours with a violence you hadn’t known sweet Neil from the VHS store to possess, bottoming out inside you as his nails dug into the now-abused skin of your back and pulling you close, so close you were panting over his shoulder and his breath shattered against your ear. The hand that had been cupping your breast shot up to cradle your head, petting your hair.

He held you to him so tight, you didn’t think he’d ever let go. And you couldn’t have been happier.

Warmth spilled around his cock, sticky against your thighs, painting your insides white. You shuddered around him, balling his hair into a fist and digging your own, sharper nails, against his back.

“I didn’t mean it to be over so fast,” he mumbled into your neck. “I just… you’re so… fuck, I’ve been waiting for this for so long.”

“So have I,” you breathed. You practically hugged each other, shivering in the night air but content in each other’s warmth. “Don’t worry.” Pulling away slightly, you smiled down at him, cheeks flushing bright red. “If anything, it… it’s endearing.”

“Really?” he chuffed out a laugh.

“It…” you looked down, unable to meet that crystalline gaze. “It makes me feel wanted.” You pecked a quick kiss to his jaw, and could’ve sworn you saw love in his eyes when you pulled away.

“God, you’re perfect.” His voice broke again as his lips sought yours, and his breath hitched in his chest when the action caused you to rock your hips forward, a new sensation he’d never felt before buzzing along his skin. His mouth hung open and you laid kisses to his lips, his jaw, the Adam’s apple that bobbed along his throat. He felt his cock stiffen again inside you, already eager for Round Two.

“I should take you home,” he murmured, hands running up and down your sides. “You must be so cold.” As if just realising that he still had his jacket on, Neil shrugged it off in haste and wrapped the heavy material around your shoulders. A chill ran down your spine, as the material was damp with sweat – you smiled at how predictably forgettable he was when he had a woman on his lap, just as you’d imagined –, but his scent soothed you.

Though you were cold, it was a small sacrifice to make to stay here, with him buried so deep inside you that you felt dizzy in the head. Depleted of your energy and sinking into his warmth, you smirked, and rested your chin on his shoulder.

“I was thinking of just staying like this a while,” you admitted.

“Whatever makes you happy,” he breathed, hugging you even tighter. “Whatever you want.”

A.N. Sorry if this was a bit rough, guys. I smashed this one out the other day because I was tired of my writer's block.

I actually laid into some themes that I was planning on using for a Dark!Neil fic based on the song "Creep" which I don't know when I'll get around to writing, but let me know if you guys would like to hear more about the idea for the series or are interested.

MASTERLIST • REQUEST

Please let me know if you would like to be added/removed to any of my taglists and notified of new works!

Taglist: @emotionalcadaver @zablife @shelbydelrey @look-at-the-soul @brummiereader @mrkdvidal1989 @fiercelittlemouse @ohwellthatslifesstuff @purplesnorlaxplush @henrywintersdearestgirl @goblinjnr @mizzbel @s0urmarvel @onasmoko @elenavampire21 @rysko @chris-seb-marvel @muhahaha303 @novemberschy @thatonesinglefriend @forgottenpeakywriter @youbyradiohead @your-nanas-house @onehornedbeast @kiss-me-cill-me @ilovefictionalpsychopaths @birminghamshelbyboys @sometimes-i-sing

[mypoisonedvine]

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 (part one) | neil lewis x reader

title comes from the song you already know by bombay bicycle club

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | you've been best friends with neil basically your entire life, and secretly in love with him almost as long. will you ever find the courage to tell him the truth?

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 10k

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | smut, angst, pining/unrequited love - 18+ only

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | alcohol consumption, 'kid' as a petname, reader being kind of a femcel, jonathan being kind of mvp??

Neil had asked you to make sure the Thriller section was alphabetized; sometimes you thought he was just giving you tasks to look busy, but then again, you could probably use it since the employees of Gumshoe Video never looked very busy.  You spent most of the day on the couches, watching whatever old bizarre gem Neil put on— sometimes you thought he only had employees other than himself so that he could pay people to sit here and watch this stuff with him.  

But, the point is, you were sorting tapes.  Because everyone needs their VHS thriller movies to be in perfect alphabetical order.

There actually was a customer in the store, for once, so it was better not to be on the couch anyhow.  You hadn’t really noticed him when he came in, but as he wandered around the shelves, he seemed to drift towards you.  

You tried to ignore him when he stopped right beside you— and kneeling to look at the lowest shelf, he towered over you— but when you stood up he got your attention.  

"Need any help, sweetheart?" he asked, leaning in a little too close.  "I'm kind of a movie buff."

He had a frat guy kind of look about him— polo, boat shoes, quaffed blonde hair.  He could be good-looking, you thought, if he didn’t dress like a discount Abercrombie model… and if he didn’t hit on random women at the video store.  "I actually work here," you corrected, barely looking up from your task.  This is why we need uniforms instead of just dressing up to promote specials…

"Oh, really?" he smirked.  "What made you wanna work in a place like this?"

"My best friend owns the place," you explained, "and I'm, you know… kind of a movie buff."

"Right," he said, not seeming convinced.  "You like Kubrick?"

You rolled your eyes so hard you almost choked: Wow, what a deep cut.  But you kept a straight-ish face when you looked at him.  "Yeah, he's pretty good.  Don't care for how he treats his actors, but he was certainly a visionary."

"What are your top five favorite Kubrick movies?"

You knew this guy was a tool, but you were still a bit shocked that he actually had the gall to quiz you.  "Excuse me?" you scoffed incredulously.

"Can you even name five?" he asked, looking horribly proud of himself, and you straightened up as you glared at him.

"You're heterosexual, right?" you asked him, getting a confused nod.  "Can you name five women you've made come?"

Neil watched the guy storm out, Lucien cringed a bit from behind the register— and Jonathan, not seeming as if he had been paying attention at all, kept laying across the couch and tossing a ball up in the air to catch and throw again.

“Okay, that’s gotta be the third this week,” Lucien groaned.  “What are you saying to these guys?”

“Nothing worse than what they’re saying to me,” you assured with a frustrated, sarcastic smile.

“Listen, don’t get me wrong,” Neil began, “that guy totally deserved it— but maybe, you know… work on your demeanor with customers?”

“Wow,” you scoffed as you crossed your arms, “do you think I should smile more, too?”

“Wha— no!” Neil denied.  

“Yes,” Lucien said at the same time, though he changed his answer with an awkward cough and mumble when you both shot him a look.  “No, no— you’re good— you smile too much, even…”

“I don’t mean it like that,” Neil promised.  “But I think half the guys that come here are just coming here to see you!  Nobody even rents movies anymore.”  He groaned a little, dropping his shoulders defeatedly.  “Can’t you… tell them you’ll go out with them if they rent something?”

“What?!” you squeaked. “No!”

“Sales would double,” Lucien nodded.

“No,” you said again.  “I’m not letting you pimp me out to sell tapes, Neil.”

“I just mean— maybe you don’t really go out with them,” he suggested.  “Just… allude to the fact that you’re only interested in guys who…”

He trailed off as he searched around the shelves for a bit, smiling when he snagged a copy of The Maltese Falcon.

“— in guys who like The Maltese Falcon,” he grinned, “you know— for example.  Then they rent it to impress you and we make a few bucks.”

“I am only interested in guys who like The Maltese Falcon,” you frowned, snatching the tape away and shoving it back on the shelf.  “But that’s not the point.”

“Maybe you have to be more straightforward, you know,” Jonathan butted in as he sat up, “guys are dumb.”

“Yeah!” Neil agreed a little too easily.

“Just say something about how a massive VHS collection turns you on,” Lucien suggested, and you glared at him.

“Jesus!” you protested, but Neil tried to soothe you a bit.

"C'mon, kid, can't you just… flirt a little?  Get our sales up?"

He'd started calling you kid since you two watched Casablanca together— which was especially stupid as you were both twelve at the time.  At first you complained because he shouldn't be calling you kid with you both being kids; then you complained because neither of you were kids; and then you gave up.  You still punched Lucien for trying to call you that once… you only barely let Neil get away with it anyways.

But you let Neil get away with a lot.  It was a side effect of being secretly, but massively, in love with him.

It had been an issue since middle school— that was when the two of you became such good friends.  Technically, you’d known each other since first grade (where you had shared your crayons, a true test of friendship at the time), and you’d sort of had a crush on him as early as elementary school (mainly because he was the only boy you could stand at the time), but it all kicked into high gear in seventh grade.  That was when you became inseparable, when you got in trouble together, when you stayed up all night watching movies, when you went through all of life’s ups and downs together: you even went to prom together, platonically of course.  

As for your feelings, you’d managed to hide them this long and still be his best friend, even when it sometimes felt like letting him stomp all over your heart without even trying.  Honestly, the only thing harder than being in love with Neil was trying not to be in love with Neil: you adored his sense of humor, his generosity, his sensitivity— and he’d been there for you through the things you couldn’t have imagined surviving alone.  That kinda stuff bonds you to somebody… and when that somebody has the most gorgeous eyes you’ve ever seen, it’s hard not to fall in love.

“Maybe I would flirt if I knew how,” you offered.  “But I’m not exactly, you know, flirty.”

“How hard could it be?” Jonathan interjected.  “Just, you know—”

You stared in quiet disbelief as Jonathan attempted to push his chest together with his arms.  It wasn’t quite working, of course, and the rest of you watched on as he fumbled around trying to force some cleavage.  “You look like an idiot,” you finally informed him after letting him do it for a minute.

“But is he wrong?” Lucien wondered.

“So, what, you guys really think that if I just went up to customers and—” you pushed your breasts together with your arms, accentuating them significantly in your tank top.

“That would work,” all three men asserted in unison before you could even finish.

“I fucking hate you guys,” you grumbled under your breath as you walked to the back, deciding to take your break in Neil’s office until these guys got their act together.

You never stayed gone for long, though— as idiotic as they could be, your friends were certainly charming.  They won you back with a promise to let you pick what tape to put on, and the four of you ended up laying on the couches watching Roman Holiday.  

When the movie was almost over, you rested your head on Neil’s shoulder; you guys did stuff like that, it was normal for you, but it always made your heart skip anyways.

~

This time, you were all hanging out at Jonathan’s primary workplace: the club.  In fact, it was a much larger crowd than just you and the guys— plenty of your local friends and loyal supporters of Gumshoe Video, all sitting around a big table while someone’s mediocre cover band took the stage.

"So, uh, me and Denise broke up," Neil said suddenly, going back in for another swig of beer right after.

The others offered their mild shock and half-hearted condolences, but you knew it was going to happen— he'd told you before he did it.  You tried to tell him that paying off a waiter to spill water on her was a weird way to prove what he already knew, but you couldn't disagree with his conclusion.  She was definitely difficult, and shockingly judgemental for someone who managed to date a video store owner for this long.

“No, it’s fine, it’s fine,” he promised, “I don’t think anybody’s too surprised, right?”

There was an awkward hesitation among the group as they wondered if they should lie, or just fess up now that he was obviously accurate.  You broke the silence to suggest someone go get another round of drinks for the table, and even though that was pretty much a one-man job, nearly everyone agreed and quickly shuffled off— leaving just you, Neil, and Lucien.

“I guess tonight’s your chance to meet somebody new, don’t you think?” Lucien suggested.  “Get over Denise, you know.”

“I think I’m already over Denise,” Neil decided.

“And if I told you that girl back there,” Lucien returned, pointing with the hand still holding his drink, “has been looking over here at you for the past ten minutes?”

You glanced where Lucien was pointing as well, seeing a girl in a denim mini skirt and massive hoop earrings settle her eyes on Neil before looking away quickly with a lip-gloss lacquered smile.

“I think I need some help getting over Denise,” Neil agreed suddenly, patting Lucien on the back before he left the table.  

You wanted to pout, but you were used to this— he was good-looking, he got a lot of attention from women in places like this… it usually didn’t work out for him, though.  Certainly not never, probably more often than most guys, but… definitely not every time.

You tried not to look over too much, you didn’t want to get caught spying or, even worse, looking a little jealous— but you noticed that every time you looked over at them, Neil was talking.  That was his problem, see: he never fucking shuts up.  Guys, girls, anybody who will listen— if you admit to not knowing about his favorite fifty-year-old spaghetti western or the most recent pre-Code horror comedy he watched, he’ll gladly blab to you about it for ages.  The first time you glanced at them, you saw her giving him doe eyes, laughing at something he said— and the last time, those eyes had glazed over and her laugh seemed more nervous and confused; you smirked to yourself.  He’s still Neil…

“So, um,” you struck up a conversation with Lucien, “what about you?  Anybody here catching your eye?”

“That’s actually the perfect descriptor of my type,” he replied.  “Anybody.”

You snorted.  “Then you should go, you know, talk to anybody?”

He shrugged and frowned a bit, and it was a simple movement but you understood completely.

The band started to play a new song, something upbeat and energetic, and you smiled.  “Wanna dance with me?”

“Oh, I don’t think I’m drunk enough for that—” Lucien began to protest, but a minute later you were dragging him up by the stage.  Neither of you were actually any good at dancing, mainly you were just kind of jumping and flailing around together, but it was fun and that was the point.

Eventually, more of your friends wandered in to join you; when the song ended, everyone clapped and cheered, the band bowing in gratitude.  You only stole one more look over at Neil and his conversation partner, watching her interrupt his rant with a hand on his shoulder: your throat felt a little dry.  You just hoped what she was saying was more like hey, my friends are leaving, I’ve gotta go and not hey, wanna come over to my place so you can keep explaining German expressionism to me?

Your heart dropped when he reached for her— what if he kissed her now?  What if he wrapped her up under his arm and they walked out together?  What if you had to spend the whole night thinking about him having sex with her?

“Hey, we should ask them if they know any Strokes songs!” Lucien suggested, tugging on your arm to get your attention, but your mind was elsewhere.

“Uh huh, yeah,” you mumbled blankly, and he frowned at you.

“What’s going on?” he asked, trying to look for what you were seeing; but Neil wasn’t reaching for her, he was lifting his hand to wave goodbye as she left.  You beamed, even though you did feel a little bad when you saw Neil’s shoulders sink— it’s not that you wanted him to be alone forever, you were just relieved that you might have a few more moments to breathe before he got with somebody again.

“Nothing, sorry,” you answered Lucien, giving him your attention again.  “What’d you say?”

“We should ask the band if they—”

And immediately, Lucien lost your focus as you couldn’t stop yourself from looking at Neil again— he was already looking at you, seeing you all on the dancefloor.  You waved for him to join you, and he smiled as he made his way towards the stage.  A new song began, even louder than the last, and you could blame that for not hearing Lucien’s question for the second time in a row.

Although he danced with you all for a few moments, Neil draped his arms over your and Lucien’s shoulders, nearly yelling to be heard over the music.

“You guys are coming over tonight for a movie, right?” he presumed.  “Jonathan’s working ‘til late so he’s out, but—”

“Sorry, I’ve gotta be up early,” Lucien explained, “my brother and his wife are visiting, remember?  We’re getting brunch and—”

“Whatever, party pooper,” Neil frowned, before suddenly smiling at you.  “Guess it’s just me and you, huh, kid?”

You tried not to sigh too noticeably through your smile.  “Yeah, me and you…” you agreed.

~

As you groggily blinked your eyes open, you found Neil staring at you, his face uncomfortably close to yours, with a big smile.  “Mornin’, kid,” he said, raising his eyebrows.

You yelped and nearly jumped out of your skin while he laughed.  “Jesus Christ, Neil!” you shouted, kicking off the blanket on you— and then you began to process where you were and why.  “God,” you groaned as you held your head in your hands, while Neil kept laughing at you, “did I fall asleep on the couch again?”

It was sort of a rhetorical question— obviously you had, it would be much stranger if you woke up on the video store couch without having fallen asleep there.  “Yeah,” he said, standing up and sighing a bit, “but you didn’t miss that much of the movie.”

“What happened at the end?” you asked, stretching your legs and snatching the blanket off the floor to fold up; Neil must have put it on you after you dozed off.

“No, we can finish it later,” he decided, walking up to the register, and you groaned.

“Seriously?  Not even falling asleep gets me out of finishing The Man Who Laughs?”

He smiled a little as he started prepping the store for open.  “Nope,” he said proudly, popping his lips on the p sound.

“It’s not that I didn’t like it,” you assured, getting up and trying to ignore the soreness in your back from sleeping on a ratty old sofa all night— you remembered helping Neil carry this thing from where he found it on the side of the road.  Considering you knew where it came from, it was a wonder you ever sat on it, let alone slept on it… but this happened relatively often.  Sometimes it almost felt like you slept easier here or at Neil’s apartment than your own. 

You stood up and stretched your arms, sparing a glance over at him.

“Can I run home and change?” you asked, and he frowned.  

“We open in ten minutes,” he noticed, “you won’t be back in time.”

“Yes, and who will serve the clamoring crowds that await our open outside?” you rolled your eyes, gesturing out the storefront to the abandoned sidewalk.  “You can handle it on your own.”

“Just go to my place,” he shrugged, “it’s closer.  And I think you left some jeans there anyway.”

Right— you’d borrowed a pair of his sweats to get comfy for a movie night, and forgot to take the jeans back when you left.  You yourself had one of Neil’s short-sleeve button-ups at your place, when you’d both changed there for a costume party, but you let him believe it was just lost… it was too late to tell him now that you had it, ‘cause then he might ask why you kept it so long and then he might, somehow, deduce that you had been cuddling it at night from time to time…

“Right, okay,” you nodded, “but I still need a shirt.”

“Just borrow one of mine,” he said, like it was no big deal at all and didn’t make your heart skip.

For a second you wondered if you should protest— if he was still dating Denise, you probably would’ve said something.  But you decided not to say anything, in case he changed his mind; you nearly bolted out of the store and down the two blocks to his apartment.

Your jeans were on the dresser, draped haphazardly in their same just-peeled-off shape you must have left them in last week.  You grumbled to yourself a little about how he could’ve folded them for you so they wouldn’t be wrinkled… but then again, all his jeans were wrinkled, so he clearly didn’t know any better.

And now the fun part: picking a shirt.  You smiled to yourself as you opened the drawer, perusing through t-shirts with old movie posters and semi-witty slogans… cute, sure, but those were pretty similar to what you already wore.  

But the button-downs?  Those were quintessential Neil, and you'd be wasting an opportunity if you didn't put one of those on.

You felt a little giddy as you opened the next drawer down and found them all folded.  The first one you saw had light blue and white stripes, so you snatched it up and slipped it on.

The fit was definitely off, but you let yourself indulge in a fantasy for a moment: waking up here, in Neil's bed… in Neil's arms.  You'd slip on his shirt while you went to find some breakfast, and he'd hum something about how pretty you look in his clothes, and you'd end up tangled in the sheets again not too much later.  

Sighing to yourself, you buttoned the last button, leaving the two at the top undone so you didn't look too formal, and headed back to the store for opening.

Neil stared at you for a second when you walked in— at the shirt, specifically.  You waited for him to say something, but he didn't.  "What, should I not wear this one?" you asked, looking down at it as well, and he shook his head.

"No, no, it's fine— sorry," he mumbled, "just start sorting out last night's returns, please."

You definitely got a much stronger reaction from Jonathan, as soon as he walked in the door.

(Why was he here when he wasn't even working today?  Who knows— he was just always here somehow.)

“Hey!  You look even more like a lesbian than usual,” Jonathan greeted with a peppy fake-smile as he approached you, and you smirked a bit.

“Don’t blame me, it’s his shirt,” you nodded towards Neil.

“See, I told you you dress like a— wait,” Jonathan stopped mid-insult, looking back at you, then at Neil again, then at you; he pointed his fingers at each of you, crossing them back and forth.  “Did… you two…?”

You narrowed your eyes, waiting for him to explain what he meant.

“Did you guys hook up?!” Jonathan accused, wide-eyed.

You felt your face getting warm, and you stammered out your denial; Neil started waving his hands in disagreement as well, but Jonathan was already on a roll.

“Oh my god!” he yelped.  “The one time I miss movie night here and it gets freaky!  Should’ve known better than to leave you two lovebirds alone—”

“Jonathan, we didn’t—” you choked.

“It’s not— it wasn’t—” Neil butted in.  “She just borrowed my shirt!  ‘Cause she— because—”

“I mean, we’ve kinda all been waiting for this to happen— but I never really thought it would,” Jonathan steamrolled along.  “Well, yeah, I guess I thought it would, I just—”

“Wait wait wait, what?” Neil shook his head, stepping up closer to the two of you.  “What does that mean?”

Finally, he seemed to get Jonathan’s attention, who began to nervously backtrack as both of you stared at him.  “W-well, I just mean—” he started.

“And who’s ‘we all’?” Neil noticed.  “This isn’t just you, thinking this?”

“I… I mean,” Jonathan scoffed, “you know— just, just some people… we thought that maybe… that since you two are so close, that you might—”

“Wow,” Neil chuckled, crossing his arms in disappointment.  “You know, that’s so reductive.  For a bunch of progressive, free-thinking hipsters—” he waved his hands as he said it in a mocking way— “you’re really just, like… like… you know, not!  ‘Cause apparently men and women can’t really be friends?”

“No, come on, not like that,” Jonathan denied, “of course we can—”

“I mean, you’re her friend, you’re both single,” Neil noticed, gesturing between the two of you, “why don’t you two, just, you know… hook up!”

You cringed a little as Jonathan tugged at his collar nervously.  “Well, I—”

“Come on, why not?” Neil went on, smiling at the suggestion even though he was clearly unamused.  “I mean, she’s nice, she’s pretty, she’s got a vagina— why don’t you hit on her?”

“Hey, come on, Neil,” Jonathan sighed, “I’m well aware she’s got a vagina—”

“So what’s the problem?” Neil insisted.  “Clearly you can’t just be friends with someone with a vagina—”

“I would really prefer if we didn’t talk about my vagina anymore,” you mumbled nervously.

“— how come you never hit on her, Jonny?” Neil pressed, backing him into a corner metaphorically— but also somewhat literally, he was leaning in and Jonathan was pressing his back more and more against the shelves.

“You really want me to answer that?” Jonathan replied, almost threatening.  That made you furrow your brow a bit.  It seemed like a rhetorical question, Neil trying to prove a point, but you didn’t expect Jonathan to have a literal answer.

“Yeah, sure,” Neil decided, “enlighten us.”

Neil glanced at you, like you were just as gung-ho about this interrogation, but you were feeling a little sick.  You understood the spirit of Neil’s argument— and technically, you agreed with him— but it still stung to see him so incensed at the suggestion of you two together.  You were trying not to take it personally, it wasn’t like he was disgusted by you or anything… he even said just now that you were pretty, and he’d told you that before, but… it still bothered you a little, for reasons you couldn’t quite describe and that you were sure were illogical.

“I never hit on her,” Jonathan answered, lowering his voice, “because I… I figured it would piss you off.”

That seemed to surprise you both, maybe for different reasons; you bit your lip to suppress a smile.  Did Jonathan really think Neil was that protective over you?  “Why would it piss me off?” Neil wondered, but he sounded a little defensive— defensive in a caught-red-handed sort of way.

“I… I don’t know,” Jonathan shrugged.  “That’s just the vibe I got, okay?  That she’s sorta… off-limits.”

Neil hesitated.  “Well… she’s not,” he decided.  “You’re grown-ups.  Whatever you wanna do is none of my business— as long as you’re not being, you know, creepy or an asshole.”

“Of course,” Jonathan agreed, most of the tension settling as Neil backed up a step.

“Okay, well, ask her out then,” Neil instructed firmly.

“I didn’t say I wanted to!” Jonathan sputtered.

“Neil, Jesus!” you complained simultaneously, and he seemed to relent, shrugging as he walked back to the register.

“Sorry, sorry,” he dismissed, “just letting you know it’s… fine with me!”

You rolled your eyes a bit and looked back at Jonathan.  “Sorry,” you offered him quietly, “he’s… I don’t know.  He gets weird about that.”

“Oh really?” Jonathan scoffed sarcastically.  “Didn’t notice.”

“The real reason you shouldn’t be hitting on me is because we’re coworkers, by the way,” you reminded him.

“Hey, I only work here part-time,” Jonathan noticed, “so I think that means it’s cool as long as we only go out part-time.”

You snorted, but he seemed to get nervous.

“You know I’m kidding, right?” he added quickly, and you nodded with a laugh.

~

"You know, I was thinking— we don't have many events at the store these days,” Neil mumbled around a bite of pretzel, watching you play your turn at Skee Ball.  Normally he would put coins in the machine beside yours and try to beat your score, but the other machine was out of order and you decided to take a relay race approach.  “What if we did, like, I don’t know… maybe a double feature for a couple bucks?”

“Neil, we show movies every night,” you sighed, “and we invite everybody, and ninety-nine percent of the time it’s just some combination of me, you, Jonathan, and Lucien.”

“Yeah, but this time we could do movies that more people like— a little easier to watch,” he suggested, “something that would get new people in the store.”

“New people don’t wanna sit on a musty old couch with strangers,” you reminded him, and he nodded as he chewed and swallowed his next bite.

“You’re right,” he agreed, holding the pretzel out towards you.  “Wanna bite?”

You were trying to get through your skee balls pretty quick, so you just leaned your head over and chomped down on the end of one of the twists while he held it for you.  You hummed in appreciation— it was pretty good, fresher than the last one you guys got here.

Visits to the arcade used to be your thing, back in high school (aside from watching movies, but that was a given).  Then you slowed down with the trips, feeling a little old and out of place surrounded by kids— but the problem was, this place wasn’t filled with kids anymore.  It hadn’t changed much at all since you were both in high school, and that was exactly the issue: it was old, run-down, a bit grimey… kids weren’t coming to arcades anymore anyways, they were all on the Internet apparently.  So, while you and Neil sort of appreciated having the place to yourself, it also broke your heart knowing your old haunt couldn’t hold itself together forever… you two visited not just to recapture some old childhood joys, but to try to do your part to keep the business afloat.  

You pretended to like being here— because you really did want to support the place, and Neil wanted to keep coming back— but it actually made you pretty fucking sad.  Surrounded by all the neon, the noisy pinball machines, the Dig Dug machine that had a fifty-fifty chance of stealing your quarters, the photobooth (you still had some strips from that thing pinned to your wall, some so old that they’d faded from the sunlight that came in your window each day); it all felt sort of eerie now.  You would’ve never known all those years ago how little this place would change, even though you never expected it to— you would’ve never known how little anything would change.  Neil was still by your side, but still so far away… if you could talk to that fourteen-year-old girl now, you would warn her that no amount of time spent running around this place and playing Street Fighter was going to make Neil love her, or you.

But here you were anyways.  “Woo!” you cheered when your final score came through: 50,765.  “Beat that!”

Neil set the pretzel down on the bar-height table (on a pile of napkins, don’t worry, neither of you trusted those tables that much) and brushed the salt off his hands with a scoff.  “Oh please, I can beat that with my eyes closed,” he assured as you crossed your arms.

As he put his quarters in and stepped up to the game, you smiled wide.  “Alright, if you say so.”

You came up behind him and covered his eyes with your hands, making him jump and then laugh.  “What are you doing?”

“Just keeping you honest,” you giggled, holding on tight even when he tried to move his head around so that he could see.  

He did his best, usually struggling to even find where the balls were coming down more than rolling them decently— but after the first three went in the gutter without even scoring, you knew he didn’t stand a chance.  He did score a few times, but when the buzzer went off and he lifted your hands from his eyes, he laughed at the pitiful 1,150 on the board.

“Ohh, that’s too bad,” you winced, “guess you’re just full of it.”

Still holding your hands away from his face, he spun around and twirled under your arms like you were dancing for a moment; it ended with him face-to-face with you, swinging your hands back and forth a bit to force you to twist with him slightly.  “Wanna play Street Fighter next?” he suggested quickly.  “I know I can beat you at that.”

The giddy joy of the moment dropped and shattered; if you thought about it too much, you probably could’ve cried right then.  As pathetic, yet oddly aesthetically pleasing, as it would be to cry in an arcade, you swallowed down the emotion and smiled back at him.  “Yeah, okay,” you agreed.

~

You’d been a little antsy all day— Neil seemed to notice, asking a couple times if you were okay, but you just nodded and shrugged it off.  He had a sense for when you were lying; but that’s the thing, you weren’t lying, really.  You just weren’t sure what to say.  You weren’t sure if you should say anything.  And yet, you felt a little guilty not telling him everything that was going on with you— not just guilty, but plain weird.  Because you usually did tell him everything— except, you know, the thing— but you didn’t know if you should talk about this.  Not that you couldn’t— but should you?

So you were sort of gnawing on your lip most of the day, keeping yourself busy with tallying late fees behind the desk, trying to keep conversation light and meaningless: thankfully, in that regard, Jonathan and Lucien made it pretty easy.

“Okay: fuck, marry, kill,” Jonathan began, “Dracula, the Mummy, and the Creature from the Black Lagoon.”

“Dude, I can’t answer that,” Lucien refused.

“Okay, then Neil, what would you do?” Jonathan changed his target.

“Um, well,” Neil pondered, “I think I’d have to kill Dracula— spare the world from that evil, you know— and I guess I’d marry the Mummy—”

“Freud would like to have a word,” Lucien butted in.

“And I’d fuck the Creature from the Black Lagoon,” he concluded, “out of morbid curiosity.”

You snorted, but didn’t look up from your clipboard.  “You come up with one that Lucien will do,” Jonathan challenged Neil.

“Alright, uhh, let’s see…” Neil stalled as he thought, looking up at the ceiling and stroking his chin dramatically.  “Fuck, marry, kill: Sarah Connor, Ripley, and Trinity from Matrix.”

“Okay, see, that’s a real challenge,” Lucien affirmed.  “If I marry Trinity, do I have to live in the post-apocalyptic wasteland or can she live here?”

“You’d have to live in the Matrix,” Jonathan announced, like it was obvious.

“Hm,” Lucien pondered, “do I know it’s a false reality?  Does she know?”

“She knows, you don’t,” Neil decided.

“Is she gonna tell me?  What if she has another guy on the side in the real world?”

“Okay, you’re overthinking this,” Jonathan groaned.

“And is this the Sarah Connor that’s already had John?  ‘Cause if not, I can’t kill her, or the human revolution stands no chance— but if she has him, I can’t marry her, ‘cause I’m not ready to be a stepfather—”

“You’re useless,” Jonathan informed him flatly.

“Well, it’s easy then,” you offered, still tallying fees on the printed table.  “You fuck Connor, marry Ripley and kill Trinity.”

“Yeah, I guess that works,” Lucien shrugged.

“If you’re so good at this game, you should play,” Jonathan decided.  You looked up from your work for once, finding Lucien looking excited at the idea and Neil looking a little nervous but intrigued.

“I’ve got one for you,” Lucien decided, looking concerningly smug.  “Fuck, marry, kill: the three of us.”

Jonathan let out a giddy ‘ooh’ and Neil raised his eyebrows.  “Oh— I don’t know— that’s too weird,” you shook your head, “it’s different, you’re real—”

“Wait, wait,” Neil interrupted, “now I wanna know.”

You froze for a second, wondering if you should double down on not participating, or if you should tell him the first thing that popped in your head: am I allowed to do all three to you?

Instead, you set the clipboard down and crossed your legs, and the men seemed to straighten up as they prepared for your answer.  “Alright,” you said, looking at them for a lingering moment before sighing.  “I think I’d fuck Jonathan, and then kill myself.”

“Yes,” Jonathan hissed, shaking his fist triumphantly.

“Dude, really?” Lucien snapped at him.  “That didn’t sound like a compliment to me.”

“Don’t care, I stopped listening after ‘fuck Jonathan’,” he replied.  “Alright, Neil, you’re gonna have to make good on that ‘she’s not off-limits’ promise you made to me—”

But Neil wasn’t listening to Jonathan, he was still looking at you.  “Wait— you wouldn’t marry me?” Neil interrupted, putting a hand on the desk and leaning in a bit closer— he looked half-amused and half-offended, and your heart skipped a beat.

“Um…” you started to wonder how to defend yourself from that.  What did he expect you to say?  Yes, I’d marry you, I’ve actually been planning our wedding since junior year.

“Hold on,” Lucien stopped you, “if she fucks you and marries you, that means I’m getting killed!”

“Yeah, so?” Jonathan smirked.

“What, you don’t think I’m marriage material?” Neil laughed… but he didn’t seem like he was really joking, per se.  He didn’t seem serious either, of course, but you decided to take his question seriously since he’d dared to ask it twice.

“Well,” you mumbled, “no.  I don’t.”

Then he seemed a bit more serious, adjusting his posture a bit.  “Why not?”

“I mean… you’re my best friend,” you reminded him, “but… you’re not reliable.”

He nodded, pursing his lips together.

“You’re not ready for marriage,” you continued.  “I mean, I think you’re just as sure of that as I am.”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“And honestly?  You’re a great friend and all, but… if you were my husband, I don’t think I could really… you know, trust you…”

The silence seemed a little heavy— all the men were sort of frozen for a second, you wondered if you should wave your arm around to make sure time hadn’t stopped.  But they did move, Neil first in fact, as he stopped leaning on the counter and nodded a little.

“I’m just surprised that you didn’t fuck Dracula,” Jonathan said to Neil in an attempt to cut the tension, “considering your massive man-crush on Bela Lugosi.”

“Hey, that reminds me, tonight’s movie is Bela Lugosi Meets a Brooklyn Gorilla,” Neil announced, apparently shaking off whatever odd energy he’d picked up just before, “you in?”

“Yeah, sure,” Jonathan nodded, “should I bring drinks?”

“Uhh, yeah, why not?” Neil agreed. 

“Is a six-pack enough?”

"Uh, maybe…” Neil considered, turning over his shoulder to look at you.  “Kid, how many beers are you gonna want?”

You swallowed nervously.  “Um, I… well, I’m not coming.  I’ve got a date, actually.”

Of course it was just assumed that you would be there; you felt a little guilty admitting you wouldn’t, to the point that you almost considered just skipping said date and staying to avoid the awkwardness.

“Hey, great!” Jonathan said proudly, throwing his arms out wide.

“A date, huh?” Neil noticed, looking happily surprised.  “Sorry, I— I didn’t know— you didn’t say anything—”

“No, it’s cool,” you shook your head, “it’s kind of a last minute thing… you know how they’re showing Rope at the Palace tonight?  I met this, um, this guy the other day and we got to talking, and I asked him if he’d wanna come with me.”

“Rope, wow, that’s a great first date movie,” Neil nodded approvingly, “that sounds perfect.”

“Yeah— he hasn’t seen it, actually,” you admitted, smiling nervously, “so I guess how much he likes it will kinda be a good judge of if he’s worth going out again, right?”

Jonathan nodded approvingly, but Neil seemed skeptical.  "Well, the showing isn't until nine— you can at least hang out until the movie starts, right?"

"I've gotta get home and get changed!" you explained 

"You can't wear that to a date?" Lucien wondered.

"No!" you scoffed, looking down at your ripped jeans and Dracula t-shirt.  "Besides, I have this whole plan of what I'm gonna wear— remember when we did Bonnie and Clyde for Halloween?"

Neil was Bonnie and you were Clyde, in fact; he looked shockingly good in that blood-red lipstick, you tried to convince him to wear it again but he insisted it was a one-night-only situation.  

"I figure if I wear my Clyde suit, I'll look kinda like James Stewart!"

"You're doing drag on a first date?" Lucien pressed, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, lighten up, I'm just dressing up for the movie— I'll still, you know, try to look pretty," you assured.  "What, I don't look good in a suit?  'Cause I got a lot of compliments on Halloween—"

"No, hey, go for it," Jonathan decided, "it's festive!"

"I think it's cool," Neil agreed.  "Have fun, alright?  And if he creeps you out or something, call the store number and I'll come get you."

"I'm not really worried about—"

"You know? Just call the store when you get home," Neil decided, "so I'll know you didn't get murdered."

"Dude, chill," you groaned.  "We're going to the movies, not, I don't know… hiking off-trail in the middle of the night."

You never agreed to call, but you did him one better: you ended up coming back to the video store afterwards, a bit over two hours later.  Of course, the guys were still on the couch— apparently the movie was over but they were watching anime (undoubtedly something Jonathan had brought as a palate cleanser after the movie).

They all looked over at you when you came in the front door and the little bell rang; they seemed excited to see you, and presumably to interrogate you about the date.  You sighed, knowing you couldn't have expected anything else, but you'd come here hoping they'd let you watch something with them so you could stop thinking about the date.

“How’d it go, hot stuff?” Jonathan purred, and you rolled your eyes as Lucien wolf-whistled.

“Oh yeah, it was awesome, best first date ever— I’m at his place having sex with him right now,” you frowned as you tossed your purse down onto the couch, and Lucien chuckled while Neil looked a little defeated.  

“Not that great, huh?” Neil noticed.

“Was he a creep?” Jonathan assumed.

“Did he think the movie was bad?” Lucien pressed.

“No, no, he was great,” you sighed, “he loved the movie.  We talked about it for a bit afterwards and he seemed to really understand it.”

“Okay!  That’s good, right?” Jonathan said optimistically.

“Yeah— so good that I asked him when we could do this again,” you recalled, “and he said that he didn’t wanna lead me on and he wasn’t interested in seeing me.”

“What?!” Jonathan yelped, while Neil winced a little.

“He said I was really cool and funny and easy to talk to,” you explained, “but that he didn’t feel any chemistry.”

“Chemistry?” Lucien repeated, confused.

“He means he’s not attracted to me,” you clarified.

“What?” Jonathan scoffed again.  “Why not?”

“I don’t know!” you whined, but you did know.  “I think I’m just, like, friend material.  I’m just ‘one of the guys’, you know?  Not somebody you actually wanna be with.”

“But isn’t that what every guy wants?  To date somebody who’s just ‘one of the guys’?” Lucien noticed, and then paused when everyone gave him an inquisitive look. “That sounded way less gay in my head.  You get what I mean, right?”

“As much as I would love to never let you live that down,” Jonathan smirked, “you’re not wrong— like, a chick who can hang.  That’s the best.”

“Well, here I am!  Hanging!” you snapped.  “Where’s my harem of suitors just desperate to date one of the guys?!”

“I mean, you are wearing a suit…” Neil noticed, getting a little defensive when you groaned and dropped your head back.  “No, no, you look cool!  I mean, you look really great.  I’m not sure what he wasn’t seeing.”

"Maybe he's got a girlfriend!" Jonathan suggested.  "And he was gonna cheat but he chickened out."

"Maybe he's intimidated by strong women," Lucien added, sounding more like he was quoting a Cosmo than actually thinking that.

"Respectfully, guys aren't that complicated," you assured.  "If he wanted me, he would.  He doesn't.  It's not that deep."

Neil looked away when you said that.

"Well, come take a seat on the losers couch," Jonathan offered, but Neil sitting next to him frowned.

"You think I'm a loser?" Neil protested.

"No, I was talking about that couch," Jonathan said as he pointed to the other one which Lucien was on.

"I'm not even offended," Lucien decided, patting the spot next to him.  "I'd rather be a loser with you than a winner with anybody else."

You smiled and plopped down next to him, pulling your legs up on the old sofa and finding the best angle to see the TV from.  "Okay, catch me up," you requested, bracing for the barrage of borderline nonsensical exposition about whatever obscure anime Jonathan was forcing on the group this time.

~

Since the store closed at eight on Tuesdays, you and Neil decided to go out for a late dinner after locking up— the nearest place you usually walked to was a little hole-in-the-wall dishing out Thai fusion, and even though there were open tables inside, you took your paper boxes outside to eat together on a bench.

You each sat up on it with your legs crossed, facing each other, while he poked at his fried rice with his fork and you stirred your noodles with the chopsticks.

“The Palace is still doing their Hitchcock screenings on Sundays,” you recalled, “I think the next one is Rear Window.  We could make Lucien man the store and go see it together?”

“Yeah, let’s do it,” he smiled.  “But we gotta sneak in the candy, that place is getting so overpriced…”

“Well, that’s a given,” you laughed.  “When I went on my date there I had Sour Patch Kids in my bag, but I was kinda craving Reese’s by the time the movie started..."

"That guy sounded like an ass, by the way," Neil announced with a frown.

"Oh, no, it's fine," you dismissed.  "He was really nice, even when he blew me off, and I… I guess I wasn’t really expecting it to go anywhere, anyways.”

“Really?” Neil scoffed.  “Then why’d you ask him out?”

Just in case.  “I… I guess I’m trying to put myself out there more?”

“Huh?  You’re trying to put out more?” Neil joked.

You rolled your eyes and unfolded your legs to kick him playfully.  “You know what I mean,” you groaned.

“Yeah, yeah,” he admitted, “and I support it.  It’s sort of insane that you’re still single.”

“Wow, thanks for the pep talk,” you rolled your eyes before shoving a thick swirl of spicy-sweet noodles in your mouth.

“No!  I mean, like, I can’t believe you’re single,” he clarified, and you smiled somewhat awkwardly while chewing your mouthful.  “You’re smart and fun and cool and pretty—”

Thanks to the food in your mouth, you didn’t have to worry about coming up with a way to respond to that, so you just shrugged.

“Seriously!” he insisted.  “I mean, guys hit on you at the store— I wish somebody who actually deserved your attention would walk in that place.”

The guy I want is already there every day.  Swallowing, you finally got a chance to talk to him again.  “Thanks,” you sighed, “it’s fine, though.  I mean, I’ve been single this long— I think I’ll survive.”

“Keep waiting for the right one, okay?” he encouraged, and your heart swelled.

“I will,” you promised, sounding more wistful than you meant to.

After a brief lull in the conversation, he cleared his throat and continued.  “Hey, um, while we’re on the topic of Sunday, about the whole fuck-marry-kill thing—”

“I’m sorry,” you offered right away, “I shouldn’t have answered that.  I wasn’t being serious, obviously.”

“No, I wanted to apologize,” he returned, “I shouldn’t have pressed you on your answer.  It was funny.  And it wasn’t like you could say you were gonna kill one of us.”

You snorted.  “Yeah, that one was probably the worst of the three.”

“But I shouldn’t have asked you about what you would’ve done to me,” he shook his head, “I was making it weird.  So, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you assured.  “Did you really expect me to say I would marry you?”

“No,” he admitted, “I thought you’d say you’d fuck me, marry Lucien and kill Jonathan.”

“What?” you scoffed, though you were still smiling.  “Why?”

“Well, Lucien would definitely make the best husband of the three of us,” he explained, “and Jonathan was the only one who wouldn’t have gotten butthurt about you saying you’d kill him.  He probably would’ve just asked you to give him a nice send-off, y’know…”

You nodded in agreement, wondering if he was going to address the obviously missing third piece of all this… he sure was staring down into his empty fried rice container with intense focus…

“And, you know, as for me,” he began sort of thinly, “I, um… I guess I just figured, you know, you’re the most comfortable with me.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, “obviously, but maybe that would make it worse?  Like, at least with Jonathan, I know that if we ever did hook up or something, it probably wouldn’t mess up our friendship.  ‘Cause we’re friendly and all, but it’s not so serious.  But with you…”

“Uh huh, well, that’s why it’s good it’s just a game,” Neil finished for you, chucking his trash in the nearest can.  “Don’t have to worry about any of that stuff.  Least of all you and I being married.  Talk about a disaster.”

You choked on your throat.  “Yeah.  No kidding…”

“Well, anyways,” he sighed, standing up from the bench and stretching for a moment, “wanna come over and see if the game’s still on?”

“Oh, um, I’m just gonna go back to my place,” you decided, throwing away the last couple bites of your food on account of your suddenly-lost appetite.  “Kinda thinking I should get my sleep schedule in order.”

“That’s good,” he nodded, “I respect that.  Have a good night, then, kid.”

“Yeah, you too,” you breathed, waving as he turned and walked off into the night, tucking his hands into his jean pockets.  

You looked down at your lap, taking a deep breath and shutting your eyes for a second.  Did he have to be so sweet just to cut you down like that?  Could he have even known how it would hurt you to say that?

It’s not even like he was wrong, but you were dying to ask him why he was so sure that you and him together would be so bad.  What was wrong with you that he still couldn’t see you that way?

Not interested in this repetitive thought cycle anymore, and being very familiar with where it leads, you got up and started to walk down the street.  You didn’t turn to go to your apartment, though; you kept going until you heard live music— scratchy, whiny guitars and throbbing bass drums— seeping out of the club.  You just needed to be somewhere familiar that wasn’t the video store or home; and, this place conveniently also had liquor.

You slipped inside— hit by a wave of sound as you entered— and took a seat at the bar, half-listening to the band that was playing, pretending to be focused at all on what was going on in the outside world rather than just spiraling into your own thoughts inside your head.

“Hey,” Jonathan nodded at you from the other side of the bar, and you nodded back.  He instantly started looking for Neil— of course he would— and you deflated a bit.  “You here alone?” he noticed.

“Yeah,” you shrugged.

“Wow,” he smirked, “it’s like when Peter Pan’s shadow escaped.”

You should’ve probably been offended by that, but it wasn’t worth denying— and you were more interested in getting liquored up than justifying that you did, in fact, have a life outside of Neil.

And, actually, Peter Pan was a pretty good way to describe Neil, too.  Fear of commitment, leader of freaks and outcasts, daydreamer… all he needed was some green tights.  “What are you drinking tonight?” Jonathan finally asked.

“What pairs well with feeling completely unattractive and unlovable?” you sighed.

“Well, that would be my drink of choice: whiskey,” he smiled, setting a bottle down in front of you.  “I’ll do a shot with you.”

He poured you both a shot, and you timed it to shoot it back together; he, obviously, took it better than you, and you cringed from the acidic flavor.  "Jesus, people really drink this on purpose?" you grumbled.

"Yeah, give it a few minutes," he assured, "it's gonna numb all those stupid emotions."

"I don't have a few minutes," you sighed, "do you have anything more fast-acting?"

"Yeah— a second shot," he joked, but you nodded in agreement.  "Okay, shit, you're not messing around tonight."

"Nope," you agreed, watching him pour just one shot this time.  "You're not doing it with me?"

"I need to pace myself, I'm here 'til two," he explained.

He slid it to you and you contemplated it for a moment, before forcing yourself to get it down as quickly as possible to avoid the burn.  You still grimaced, but recovered quickly.

"Is it working yet?" he wondered.

"I guess," you answered half-heartedly.

“Well, you could always gush to the bartender about all your problems?” he offered, but you just shrugged it off.  “Come on, you wouldn’t be the first tonight.  And since I know you, I might actually be able to help.”

“I don’t think you can help with this one,” you assured.  “This problem has been going on longer than you’ve been around.”

“Oh?” he pressed.  “Let me guess… boy troubles?”

“Isn’t it always?” you scoffed, irritated that he saw through you that quickly— apparently your reputation of being horrible with men preceded you.

“But this is just one boy,” he presumed.  “One boy who… conspicuously isn’t here tonight…”

“Is it that obvious?” you wondered with a whine, dropping your head in your hand.

“Well, if you weren’t having any issues with him, you’d be with him,” Jonathan guessed— and it wasn’t bad logic.

“But, like, does everyone know?” you wondered.  “Does everyone but him know that I’m in love with him?  Oh god, Jonathan, you don’t think he knows, do you?”

“Wait— love?” he repeated, and you swallowed thickly as you realized the whiskey had already gotten you to say too much.  “You… you’re…”

“Okay, so I guess not everyone knows,” you mumbled.

“No, yeah, I think you managed to keep that under wraps,” he assured with a nod, eyes getting wider.  “Sheesh.  No, I had no clue.  Now it’s even weirder that you guys aren’t together.”

“Well, he doesn’t love me,” you explained flatly.

“Did he tell you that?”

“No, god no— I mean, he tells me he loves me,” you corrected, “but he doesn’t mean— we just say that, you know, like at the end of phone calls or when one of us is sad.  It’s not, like… we never meant it that way.”

“Right, okay,” Jonathan nodded as he wiped a glass— the way bartenders do when they’re listening to people— but he didn’t seem to understand entirely.  “So, you’re not his type?”

“I don’t think I know what his type is,” you scoffed.  “I haven’t really noticed a pattern, have you?”

“You’d have to have a few more data points to really draw any connection between them,” Jonathan laughed.

“Yeah, fair,” you smiled, “he’s only had… I don’t know, maybe four girlfriends since I’ve known him?  One in high school, for a month— then Eva, they weren’t even really serious, just dating for a while.  And then, uh—”

“Tanisha,” he remembered.

“Right!  I liked her,” you hummed.

“What happened to her again?” he wondered.

“Got back with her ex,” you recalled.

“Wow, that blows,” Jonathan sighed.  

“She told me before she told him,” you admitted.  “She wanted me to tell him for her, actually, but I… I couldn’t do that to him.  But I came over right after, you know, and we ate ice cream from the tub and watched movies ‘til we fell asleep.”

Jonathan made a sort of face, one you couldn’t quite interpret, and you tilted your head as he seemed to mumble to himself.  

“What?” you wondered.

“Nothing, it’s just… he’s kind of an idiot,” Jonathan decided.  “I don’t think he gets how lucky he is.”

You wrinkled your brows together, laughing a bit.  “What do you mean?”

“Look, I’m not saying he’s, like, legally obligated to fall in love with you just because you guys get along so well,” he clarified, “even if that’s what Neil accused me of thinking— I really do think it’s fine for men and women to just be friends.”

“So, what are you saying?”

“I’m just saying… like, how do you have someone who cares about you that much, and you end up dating fucking Denise for almost a year?!”

“Well, nobody knows how he ended up with Denise,” you coughed.  “That was a fucking disaster.”

“I mean, not to be crass, but, uh,” he stumbled a little over his words, “I’m surprised that you coming over after that breakup didn’t turn into a rebound, at least.”

“After eating that much ice cream?” you laughed.  “That would’ve been awful.”

“But really, though,” he insisted.  “I have a hard time believing the thought didn’t even cross his mind…”

“I can’t really be sure that it didn’t,” you admitted, “I’m just saying, nothing happened.”

“I guess he’s just known you too long to go for it with you,” Jonathan shrugged.

“It’s not just that— you know Neil, he’s kind of an adrenaline junkie,” you rolled your eyes, “or at least he thinks he is.  He wants adventure, I guess— and he always talks about us doing spontaneous stuff but it never happens— and I’m just too familiar.  Too comfortable.”

“Yeah, he does kinda have something against stability,” Jonathan agreed, “do you think it’s a divorced parents thing?”

“I don’t know, I stopped analyzing that a long time ago,” you groaned, “and I told myself I would stop trying to be what I thought he wanted, but I think I keep doing it.”

“Well, I know you know him better than anybody,” Jonathan countered, “but I know guys, and that guy… there’s no way he thinks of you as just a friend.”

“Why do you think that?” 

“Because he was fucking lying when he said it wouldn’t piss him off if we hooked up,” he insisted.

“You really won’t let that go, will you?” you grinned.

“Did you see his face?  He couldn’t get the image out of his head!” Jonathan assured confidently.  “And then that whole ‘fuck marry kill’ thing— he started getting nervous, I think.”

“Nervous about what?”

“That something could really happen with us!”

“You really think he would care?” you frowned.

“I swear to— to Ash Williams,” he decided, “that if I walked into that fucking video store, and told him that you and I did whiskey shots and you came back to my place and we did the horizontal tango, he would beat me to death with the register.”

“You swear on Ash Williams?” you repeated with a smirk, knowing that meant more than swearing on any deity would mean.

“Him and his chainsaw hand,” Jonathan assured, putting a hand over his heart to add to the bit, and you giggled.

“Well, I don’t think Neil can pick up the register,” you decided.

“In that case, you let me know the next time you wanna get back at him for something,” he offered with a wink, and you smiled at him sympathetically.

“I know you’re trying to be nice,” you sighed, “but you don’t have to do that.”

“Hey, come on,” he frowned, “I know you’ve got this I’m insecure I’m a weirdo nobody notices me thing, but you can’t actually think it would be some kind of charity work for me to sleep with you—”

“No, I don’t mean that,” you sighed, “I know I could get laid if I wanted to—”

“But you don’t wanna get laid,” he finished for you, “you wanna be loved.”

You sighed again, even harder.  “Yeah,” you nodded.

“I know,” he agreed.  “And you know I love you, but—”

“But not like that,” you took your turn finishing his sentence.

His only reply was raising the bottle of whiskey with a sideways smile, a silent offer to pour another shot— for both of you this time.

“Yes, please,” you hummed, watching him fill the miniature glasses with a sigh.

part 2