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hausofwoo · 1 month ago

Text

graphic | mark lee

pairing: mark lee x afab reader

word count: 6.6K

summary: stuck in the monotony of your job at the mall, every day feels the same: opening the store, sitting behind the register, and counting the hours til close. you've even memorized the routines of the stores around you. but when a new guy starts at the comic book store across the way, you realize your predictable days may soon change.

warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, comic book store employee!mark, retail employee!reader, really cute and fluffy until it's not, public sex (public space but no one is there), unprotected piv (DONT DO THIS), mark throws u around like a lil play thing, oral (fem recieving), fingering, use of a petname (baby), lmk if i forgot anything!

author's note: this one took forever yall i know its been a while! been going thru some shit irl but things are settling and i was deadset on finishing this bc it's so cute :'-) thank u to T and @hausofmingi for being my beta readers ( ˘ ³˘)♡

working at a mall can be really tiring, but it’s not so bad when you have a crush.

you’ve been working at a retail store at your local mall for a few months now. it’s boring, there’s too many people on the weekends, and you have the worst hours. you found yourself working open to close for far too many shifts. but at the end of the day, at least it keeps the bills paid.

on slow days during the week, you’re always sat at the register, scrolling through your phone or twiddling your thumbs, counting down the seconds til closing time. sometimes you would even stare off into space, watching people pass by all day long.

you went to work always knowing exactly how the day would go; set up shop, maybe help some customers, and do fucking nothing for 8 to 10 hours. maybe a wave to the employees at the stores surrounding you, but sadly, that was usually the most interesting part of your day. you became accustomed to the monotony though, watching the same employees open up their shops next to yours.

the store directly across from yours is a comic book store. you know the few people that worked there, usually just saying “good morning” and going on with your day. you swear, you have this store memorized, knowing when the employees take their breaks, who’s working, what they’re working on that day. you didn’t really mean to, but when all you have to do is daydream, you kinda picked up on the routine there.

so when you arrive in the morning for yet another brutal open-to-close shift, you expect to just roll up the security shutters and sit back at the register all day. but there’s something different today; or rather, someone different.

sitting at the register at the comic book store is a man you’ve never seen before. his hair is perfectly messy and his glasses framed his eyes, which are focused on reading a comic. he’s working all by himself, which is surprising to you since you’re certain he’s new. you catch yourself staring and try to brush it off. he’s a new guy, so what?

you try your best to go about your day as normal, but you can’t help stealing glances over at the man at the store across from you. he has a captivating energy, and it makes you want to know more about him. he seems charismatic, being friendly with customers and earning smiles, then resuming his doodling once they leave. you notice that when he looks really focused, he bites the corner of his lip gently.

you gotta stop staring, or he will definitely notice. you decide to actually work on something for once, organizing the stock and straightening the shelves. soon enough, closing time creeps up on you. you do all of your closing duties and grab your things from the back. you close the security shutters, looking behind you quickly to see that the man is doing the same. he notices your gaze, so you kindly wave at him. instead of a wave back, blush forms on his face with a shy smile. and with that, he walks away.

the interaction was unreadable. he seemed to be so extroverted with customers, having no issue having casual conversations with them. why is he getting all shy now?

you started to pick up on the new routine at the comic book store. from what you could tell, the man worked similar hours to you, often opening and closing too. he rarely worked with anyone else, so the majority of the time you glanced over, he was reading comics, manga, or doodling in his notepad.

you never really got into comic books like that, and only dabbled with reading manga, but the growing interest in this man made you curious about learning more on what he was reading. maybe it wouldn’t hurt to check out the selection? perhaps get some recommendations? you just finished a short shift today so now was the perfect opportunity.

after grabbing your things and saying goodbye to your coworker, you make your way over to the comic book store. you approach the man, who’s sitting at the register as usual, reading. you see his name tag on his chest; a cute red pin with a spider-man drawing next to his name, “mark.”

“hi,” you say, pulling his attention away from reading.

“oh, hi,” he says, placing his comic down. “sorry, i didn’t see you come in.”

“it’s okay,” you reply, looking around at the goodies at the register. “i was wondering if you have any recommendations for a beginner at reading comics?”

“oh for sure,” he says, eyes lighting up. “marvel has tons of great ones. you could start with an ironman one, or maybe captain america? i personally like spider-man, but i’m definitely biased.”

“i’ll try spider-man,” you say after a beat.

mark gives you a nod with a warm smile before leaving the register to grab your comic. he searches through the spider-man section until he finds the first issue. he returns to the register, ringing you up.

“i think you’ll like it, it’s really good,” mark says, handing your receipt to you.

“i’m definitely looking forward to see what all the hype is about,” you chuckle. the conversation pauses for moment, clearly indicating that the interaction is pretty much over with. but you don’t want the conversation to end there, so you find something to keep talking about. “you’re new here, aren’t you? like you just started working here?”

“yeah, sort of,” he says, sitting back in his seat at the register. “i used to work here a while ago and i just came back ‘cause they needed someone.”

“oh nice,” you reply. “welcome back i guess?”

“haha, i guess,” he smiles, rubbing his hand on his neck. “it’s chill here, but it gets kinda boring.”

“tell me about it,” you chuckle. “it’s so slow during the week. i usually have nothing to do.”

“yeah, i just read or draw to pass the time,” mark says, pointing at his notepad on the counter.

“you like to draw?” you ask, curious.

“yeah,” he places a hand on the notepad, grabbing it. you can tell he’s getting shy again. “it’s just doodles.”

“you’ll have to show me some of those ‘doodles’ sometime,” you say with a sweet smile. you check your phone for the time. it’s getting closer to dinnertime and you’re starved. “i guess i’ll get out of here.”

“okay,” he stands again. “well, let me know what you think of the comic.”

“i will,” you say, turning to leave, then flipping back to look at him. “mark, right?”

he nods, asking for your name as well. he beams at you. “it’s nice to meet you. see you tomorrow?”

“see you tomorrow,” you say with a wave, walking out.

for the next week, you find yourself aching to talk to mark again. you read the comic he gave you, and it provided a little bit of insight into him… that he’s a bit of a nerd. definitely not a bad thing. it’s actually really endearing to you, knowing his life basically revolves around superheroes, free time and work alike. that he probably draws little comics in his notepad, and has sweet dreams about being superhuman. why is that so fucking cute?

you have a reason to talk to him again, of course: the next issue of spider-man. the problem is building up the courage again, which is ridiculous because he’s just a guy. a nerdy one at that, and you know that he would be putty in your hands if you really wanted him to be. but the longing you developed for him during those long hours of your shift, seeing him across the way, looking so cute in his round glasses… it’s making you nervous in a way that is difficult to explain.

you’ve been putting off going back to his store at this point. wouldn’t someone that wanted to get into superhero comics come back for the next edition? why aren’t you using your excuse to talk to him? not only that, but he even said he wanted you to come tell him what you thought of the comic. you’re just overthinking things.

you have another short shift one day, and decide today is the day. you gather your things and walk to the neighboring store, feeling the familiar butterflies you felt the first time you approached mark at the register. he’s drawing this time, crouched down and focused. he hears you walk in, lifting his head to meet your eyes. maybe you’re crazy, but it looks like his eyes light up.

“hey,” he says, closing the notepad in front of him. you present the spider-man comic to him, and he flashes a smile at you. “what’d you think?”

you chuckle, holding the comic close to your chest. “it was good, but too short. there’s another issue, right?” you joke, hoping it lands.

he lets out a giggle, “yeah, there definitely is. i’ll grab the next one for you.”

he walks over to a section near the front of the store, flipping through the excess of papers before he finds the 2nd issue. “if you liked that one, you’ll like this one even more.” he returns to the register with the issue, placing it on the counter for you.

“duel to the death with the vulture?” you read from the page. “i haven’t seen any of the movies recently so correct me if i’m wrong, but i don’t remember there being a vulture.”

“oh yeah, he’s in one of the later movies actually,” mark starts. “but you got a long way to go til you finally meet one of the iconic villians like the green goblin, or even the love interests gwen stacy or mary jane. it’ll be so worth the wait though.”

“how much do i owe you?” you ask, already pulling out your wallet.

“you can borrow it if you want,” he says.

“but this one belongs to the store, won’t you get in trouble?” you ask.

“just bring it back and it’s like it never happened,” he whispers, faking a shhh at you. “let’s just say it’s mall employee perk.”

you smile and accept it.

your new routine feels like a nice change of pace. every second of every day used to drag by, and yet at the same time, when you got home, everything that happened was so unbelievably boring that it all felt like a blur. nothing really significant happened to you. but something about trying something new, learning about a brand new niche interest, and even developing a crush… it’s finally something exciting.

you looked forward to the next time you got a new issue. not just that, but the next time you got to talk to mark. he has this charm about him that piqued your interest. it feels so easy to talk to him, as if you’ve already known each other for a long time and it isn’t just a budding friendship. you’d find yourself stopping by the comic book store a few times a week, anticipating the next comic and the underlying tension between you and mark.

like today, when you finally got off of work after a long shift. you were able to close up shop quickly and now you’re walking over to the comic book store, attempting to run in before mark locked up.

“hey, is it cool if i get the next issue real quick?” you ask, popping your head in the store.

“yeah, one sec,” he says, looking up from counting the cash in the register. “lemme just finish closing up the register.”

“are you implying that you’re gonna let me borrow another comic?” you ask, a flirty tone floating beneath.

“well of course,” he says, swiftly closing the cash drawer. “unless you want to start collecting, which by the way, SUPER expensive.”

“i think i’ll stick to being a casual reader for now,” you joke, approaching mark at the register.

“i don’t know, you might change your mind after this one,” he says, grabbing a comic from his bag. he holds it out to you, you grabbing it with your fingers briefly brushing past his. the motion makes you feel a little dizzy, and you can feel heat rising to your cheeks.

you shake your head, realizing this one doesn’t belong to the store. “wait, is this your own personal comic?”

“yeah, it’s one of my favorites,” he says, half focusing as he’s writing something on a sticky note at the counter. “i brought it in so you can borrow it.” you can see the corner of his mouth turning up, as if he’s trying to hold back a smile.

“you didn’t have to do that—”

“i wanted to,” he says, lifting his head up to hand you the sticky note he was writing on. “just treat it with care.”

you take the note, which is pale blue with a cartoon spider-man in the corner. in the middle of the note is a scrawled out phone number. you look up to see mark rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“if you want to tell me what you think?” he says, almost like a question.

“or maybe when i get bored during my shift?” you ask, chuckling.

“i’d like that a lot actually,” he smiles, his previous nervousness quickly washing away.

“you’ll regret it though,” you say, sticking the note on the front page of the comic. “because i get bored here a lot.”

“don’t worry,” mark laughs, shaking his head. “i don’t think i’ll get sick of you anytime soon.”

you finally reached issue #14 of spider-man, the one mark is lending to you. you grab it out of your bag at the beginning of your shift, sitting back in your chair behind the register and getting comfortable. you realize what it’s about and immediately text mark.

sent 10:17 am omg wait i didn’t realize this issue is the first appearance of the green goblin

you look across the way, seeing mark pick up his phone and smiling.

sent 10:18 am mark: oh yeah, he’s fuckin sick mark: you’re gonna love it

you click your phone off with a soft sigh, flipping back to your comic. you go about your shift switching from helping customers and checking them out, and reading. every once and a while, you’ll message mark with your comments and he would always reply with enthusiasm.

the end of your shift approaches quickly, and soon enough you’re closing the security shutters. you look behind you to see mark locking the doors and then doing the same. he must’ve felt your eyes on him, because he turns and flashes his famous smile to you. you walk over to him with the comic in hand.

“you were right,” you say, handing it him. “green goblin is super sick.”

“i told you,” he says, reaching for it, and your hands momentarily touching like last time. he gets flustered. “uh, i can give you the next one tomorrow if you’re working.”

“i am, yeah,” you reply, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. “i am so curious though—when the hell does gwen stacy show up?”

“oh,” he giggles to himself. “you’re like, halfway there to finally seeing her.”

“i didn’t realize how extensive this series is,” you chuckle. “not that i’m complaining. i’m actually surprised by how much i like it.”

“i’m glad,” he says sweetly. “well, just come by tomorrow and i’ll give you the next issue.”

“i will.”

the following weeks, you became overtaken by superhero comics and stupid-fucking-adorable mark. you would read an issue of spider-man at work, and text mark with your reactions to certain scenes. at first you thought it might be annoying to him, but he actually seemed to encourage it, asking for your opinions on the characters and storyline.

it doesn’t help that every time you see mark, you get butterflies in your stomach. and it seemed to only be getting worse; you keep finding yourself smiling when his name pops up on your phone. you wake up excited to go to work, because you know you’ll probably have another interaction with him. sometimes, mark would even catch you staring at him and give a little nod with a smile. but what made things exponentially worse was when you catch him gazing at you too, catching you off guard but making a smile spread across your lips. you are smitten, and if anyone else was concerned, mark is probably smitten too. the issue is getting him to finally take the hint and making a real move on you.

he may get a little flustered around you, but he’s not exactly shy. after all, he did give you his number unprompted. but after weeks of going back and forth strictly talking about comics and work, you started to lose hope. you just want him. he must want you back just as bad.

after another closing shift, you watch the mall-goers pass by and file out of the building. the mall is basically empty now, most of the neighboring stores already closed and employees leaving for the day. you had to stay a little bit late, cleaning up a huge mess in the store from some rude customers. you thought you would have time to stop by to see mark, but with the amount of things you have to put away, your chances are looking slim.

you shuffle around the store, placing items back on the shelves and organizing the tables of merchandise. you eyes shift over to the comic book store, expecting to see it dark and locked up. but it isn’t; mark is still in there, half the lights still on, with him unboxing comics from their latest shipment. you already knew it was restock day for them (god you have way too much free time), but you didn’t realize how many boxes they got in.

you open the front door of your store, whisper-yelling through the security shutters. “mark!”

mark’s head turns to look at you and flashes a grin at you. “yo, you’re still here too?”

you nod, leaning on the glass door. you hold up a few of the displaced items in your hands. “go-backs,” you shrug.

he points at the pile of boxes in front of him, “restock. we got a lot of shit in early for christmas.”

“don’t say christmas please, i don’t want to think about it yet,” you say with a laugh.

you turn away to get back to work, putting all the merchandise back to their assigned spots. you don’t know what the hell got into people today; messing up all your organization you’ve done and putting things in all the wrong places. it didn’t help that you had to deal with some assholes with returns today too. you always theorize it’s from a full moon or mercury retrograde or something; those things must be the reason people start acting up.

after about an hour of cleaning, you finish up and can finally call it a day. you close up shop and turn to see mark still working on stocking at his store. you approach the security gate of the store, with its front door still propped open.

“i still need my next issue by the way,” you say to mark, who stands from his crouching position in front of an open box. he walks up to the gate and pushes it up, just enough for you to come through. you look hesitant.

“come in, it’s okay,” he says, motioning you in. you duck under the security gate, slipping into the store. “how was your day? looks like you had a lot to do.”

“yeah, the store was a mess,” you say, following him to the register. “i’ve never had to stay so late after close.”

“it’s only gonna get worse the closer it gets to christmas,” mark says while weaving around the boxes with you.

“what did i say about christmas?” you joke, nudging his shoulder softly.

“sorry, sorry,” he laugh, putting his hands up. you wait patiently for him as he kneels behind the register, looking for your comic. he pops back up with a stumped look on his face. “i swear i thought i put it up here to give to you but i can’t find it. i’m gonna go check the back.”

he starts walking to the back room, and looks back at you. “feel free to sit if you want. our stockroom is a wreck, this might take a sec.”

you nod to him, squeezing past the tower of boxes to sit in the chair at the register. it feels kinda funny to sit back here, like you’re seeing the store from a different perspective, from mark’s perspective. you look around behind the counter, seeing the little notes and cute super-hero knick knacks gathered around.

there’s a mini batman funko pop positioned in the corner, with a sticky note placed under his feet reading “no drinks at the register.” you look over to see a large iced coffee with mark’s name in sharpie. well, we all bend the rules a bit. his name tag is placed on the counter by a stack of comics. you grab it to take a closer look. it’s a plastic red pin with a white pop-art bubble. in the corner is a small piece of paper stuck on it, attached with office tape. on the paper is a spider-man doodle, made with red and blue marker and pen ink.

you’re sure this must’ve been drawn by mark. you have yet to see any of his drawings (despite your prying), so maybe seeing this one up close will give you a sneak peek into his style. it’s a little messy, with scratchy lines and colors bleeding outside the borders. despite that, it has a distinct style that you’re fond of. it’s not perfect, let alone does it look like the super-heroes you’ve been reading in your comics. but it has a quality to it that feels less polished and flat. it has character. the messiness makes it feel more… real.

you set his name tag down, placing it back next to the large stack of comics. these must be his go-backs. he’s been so wrapped up with his shipment he probably hasn’t had time to put them away. you think maybe it would be nice to help a bit. he’s been nice enough to let you borrow comics from the store, and you’re just waiting around after all.

you pick up the stack of comics, situating them into your arms, when you look down and see that under the stack is mark’s notepad. it’s not closed like you’re used to seeing it, opened to a clean white page with a drawing covering up a majority of it. it’s in a comic book style, you’re not surprised. but it has the same quality that his name tag doodle does; scrawly and messy, with no real precise lines. the colors are splashed across the page, with blotches of scribbled colored marker decorating it. then realize what it is—who it is.

it’s you.

the whole image captures you and a little bit of your surroundings. positioned at your normal spot at the register, you’re looking down at a comic with your fingers playing with the ends of your hair. but it has a dream-like feel to it, with the pages of the comic illuminating your face as if a source of power is emanating from it. and then the best part: the wings. placed behind your shoulders are pair of feathered wings, outstretched in a sketched black ink. it’s beautiful.

it’s beautiful and it’s you. mark drew you.

“yo, sorry that took so long,” mark says while emerging from the back, eyes still focused on the comic in his hands. “i finally found it, but dude i had to do some digging—”

mark’s words are cut short when he notices you holding his notepad, comics that were placed atop abandoned on the counter by you. he visibly gulps.

“mark…” you start, not moving your eyes from the drawing. “what’s this?” without a response for a few moments, you tear your eyes away to see mark with blush on his cheeks, mouth open but unable to let any words out. “did you… did you draw me?”

“look, it gets really slow during the day, i just did a little sketch to pass time—”

“mark, this isn’t just a sketch,” you say, looking back down at the notepad. “this is amazing.”

“y-you like it?” mark says, hand rubbing the back of his neck.

“of course i like it,” you say.

“you don’t think it’s weird that i drew you without telling you?” mark asks, nervousness radiating from him.

“i don’t think it’s weird at all,” you say. “i actually love it. i like that you drew me as a superhero too, and one with wings at that.”

mark stays quiet, looking at his feet and probably overthinking everything right now. you look back up at him, tension building in your stomach as you ask what you already know the answer to. “you like me, don’t you?”

mark lifts his head to meet your eyes. he bites his lip anxiously as he nods slowly.

a streak of courage overtakes you as you grab his arm to pull him closer, him tripping over his own feet and crashing into your chest. you’re leaned against the counter, with mark’s arm behind you and hand placed flat on the surface. your faces are close, and you can feel his breath. his eyes are glued onto your lips, and he swallows thickly.

“mark, just kiss me,” you mumble, aching for him.

he wastes no time, leaning in to slot his lips between yours. he snakes an arm around your waist, holding you as close as he can. you melt into him, goosebumps floating across your skin in all-consuming desire. you move your hand to hold his cheek, thumb swiping on his smooth skin and fingers tangled in his soft, messy hair.

he pulls away, breath still shaky. “i’ve been wanting to kiss you for so long…” he trails off before leaning in and kissing you again, this time with more passion. he swipes his tongue between your lips, with you willingly accepting him. his hands trail up and down your sides, then finally places a firm grip on your waist and lifting you to sit on the counter. he slots between your legs, his body pressed close to yours. your fingers card through his hair, earning a sweet hum from him.

his hands trail down to your ass, pushing you closer against him to where you feel the bulge forming in his jeans. he can’t even hold back his moan, it being muffled by your lips. he pulls away again, this time kissing from your cheek down to your neck. he sucks at the expanse of skin while he caresses the other side of your throat. you let out a soft hum in pleasure, savoring every bite and lick—

“fuck, you sound so hot too,” he says in between kisses. he moves a hand down to your breast, kneading it roughly. you throw your head back, soaking in the pleasure from just his hands alone. his beautiful fucking hands, the ones that drew you. his lips feel so good on you, but his hands feel even better. it’s as if he’s been waiting for this moment for eternity and he doesn’t want to let you go. almost as if holding you, touching you is the only thing keeping him grounded in reality. it doesn’t feel real to you either; that mark, the cute boy you’ve had a crush on for weeks and weeks is kissing you, holding you, and yearning for you all the same.

you feel so wrapped up in the moment that you almost forget that you’re in public. sure, there’s no one left in the mall and the only people left are probably mall security, but the risk of being seen is still there. it just feels too good to stop.

“mark,” you say, giving in to the anxiety. “are we really doing this? right here, right now?”

he pulls back to look at you, still holding you close. “it’s just us here, and if it’s okay with you, i don’t think i can wait any longer.”

“i don’t think i can either,” you respond.

suddenly mark is ripping your clothes off, all while pulling you both behind one of the comic display cases. it’s your turn to take his clothes off, and you’re yanking his jacket off and pulling up his graphic tee and discarding them both on the floor. the exchange is a jumbled mess of constant touching of skin and clothes flying in every direction, a true testament to how desperate you both want each other. he’s kissing you all the while, taking every opportunity to peck at you between the tugging of clothes.

he leans you against the display bookshelf full of comics, completely unbothered when an issue or two falls off. your hand travels down into this jeans, feeling him hard and pulsing against your palm. you stroke his length slowly, focusing most of the stimulation on his dripping head. he lifts one of your legs slightly to get better access to you under your skirt, then looks at you as if he’s asking for permission.

you nod your head profusely before leaning in to kiss him deeply. it doesn’t last long, because suddenly he’s pushing inside you and you’re gasping at the stretch—

“you’re so—fuck—so fucking tight,” he hisses, attempting to push in as slowly as he can. your mouth is fully agape in bliss as he finally bottoms out, reaching deep inside of you. he catches your eyes, lust filled in his own as he slowly starts to move.

he’s slow at first, knowing that his size is stretching you out to the point where it’s nearly painful. but it feels so fucking good, his cock dragging in and out of your tight walls. you can tell he wants to pick up the pace, with his breath shuddering with each stroke. you take the opportunity to kiss him again, wanting to taste his soft lips as he gradually begins to pound into you.

he’s groaning against your lips, and your moans are muffled against his. you’re trying to salvage any sort of public decency by holding back your sounds the best you can. it’s when he grabs your legs and lifts you to press you against the display shelf that you realize that that shred of awareness of your surroundings is about to be long fucking gone.

he’s holding you up by gripping your ass, pistoning into you at a pace that you can only describe as brutal. it’s no use trying to stifle your moans anymore, with him hitting your cervix over and over and making you see stars at each stroke—

“mark, it feels so fucking good,” you can only whine out to him, wrapping your arms around his neck tighter, tugging at his hair—

“you feel so fucking good, jesus,” he groans against your neck, heaving breaths tickling at your throat.

his pace is wild, but the force in which he’s pounding into you begins to cause the comic books around you to tumble off the shelves, creating a pile at mark’s feet. he doesn’t seem to care though. that is, until a comic book falls from a shelf above you and hits him on the head.

“ah!” he exclaims, realizing what happened. he stops his movements to look at you, holding back a smile.

you can’t hold back your laugh, giggling profusely at the ridiculousness of the situation. he laughs too, shaking his head and letting out a sigh.

“this is crazy,” he says, resting his forehead on yours.

“i know,” you reply, still giggling. with one last laugh, he leans in and kisses you tenderly, smile still formed on his lips. you melt into him, ruffling your fingers through his hair as he begins to pick back up the roll of his hips into you.

it feels like a sweet moment, the fact that you can be doing such a scandalous act and still giggle with him. the tenderness doesn’t last for long, however, when he hits that perfect spot inside you that forces you to release a sharp moan.

“mark, oh my god,” you whimper, attempting to roll your hips down onto him. “keep doing that, please—”

“fuuuck,” he groans, feeling your core clenching around his length. “you take me so well, baby.”

all you can do now is nod, whimpering and whining on him. you can’t believe that this man that has always been so endearing, so kind and lovable has this completely different side to him that you’re only now getting to experience. it brings a different sort of intrigue to him; that he’s more than just a cute boy that works at a mall. he’s complex. he’s a fucking man. he’s a fucking. sex. god.

his breathing starts to become irregular, and his pace is back to merciless. his groans, fuck, his moaning. he’s bouncing you on his cock in the perfect way to where your moans are matching his. you can feel his dick pulsing inside you—

“i’m gonna cum,” he can only breathe out, burying his head into the crook of your neck. “can i?”

“yes mark, please,” you whine, tugging at the ends of his hair. all the while you’re clenching around his cock, bringing him closer and closer to his release.

with a low groan, his hips stutter and you feel his seed spilling into you, completely filling you up. the rocking of his hips stall, and he’s finally letting you down and kissing you sweetly, caressing your cheek with his hand.

“god, you are fucking perfect,” he whispers to you. you let out a giggle, leaning your forehead against his. “hey, i’m not done with you yet.”

he quickly moves you to the glass display counter, lifting you to sit you on it. he pushes your thighs open, lifting your skirt up to get a better look at you. he looks enamored, like he’s starving and the only thing to appease his hunger is by having you on his mouth.

he dives in, licking a stripe up your core with a groan. he repeats this action, as if he’s savoring every drop of your essence mixed with his release that’s slowly dripping out of you—

“so fucking hot,” he hums, releasing a hand from your thigh to tease at your entrance.

“mark, please,” you beg. “stop teasing—”

he attaches his mouth to your clit, swirling his tongue around in smooth, controlled circles. your hands fly to his head, body already twitching from stimulation. his finger is still prodding at your hole, wanting to enter but not just yet. he instead continues to ravage at your sensitive bud, intentional movements making your head spin. he knows what he’s doing and he knows he’s good, especially with the shaking of your thighs and high pitched moans escaping your lips egging him on.

he looks up at you, flattening his tongue out and doing long, drawn out licks. the eye contact is insane, the lust filled in them only making it that much hotter. he’s enjoying every second of this, seeing you shake and begging him to keep going. he loves the taste of you too, so sweet and almost addictive. he could die like this.

his teasing finger finally starts to deepen inside you, slowly at first. he can feel every pulse of your core around his finger, and it’s so hot that he can feel himself getting hard again. and you’re so wet, oh my god, so fucking wet. your arousal is dripping down his chin and his hand, making a sticky mess. when you start to roll your hips onto his face, he swears he’s in heaven.

he inserts another finger, feeling that tightness grip around them. it’s only getting more erratic now, clenching around him with each grind of your hips. he curls his fingers to prod at that sensitive spot, causing you to moan out his name—

“mark, don’t stop,” you whine, looking down at him basically making out with your pussy.

he continues the same movements, repeatedly hitting your g spot and swirling his dripping tongue on your clit. your back arches and legs unintentionally close around his head, making him push them back open with his free hand.

and then he starts humming against you. the vibrations send a shock wave through your body, that mixed with his fingers, his tongue, his hand gripping tightly against your thigh… it feels so intense and so so good. you cum on his tongue, with him desperately holding your hips down and he helps you ride out your high. he doesn’t stop until you’re shaking, and you have to grab his head and lift it.

“oh my god,” you gasp, slowly coming down.

he smirks up at you with arousal-coated lips. “yeah, oh my god.” he stands up, immediately going to kiss you and you accepting him, wrapping your arms around him. he pulls away and leans his head against yours.

“i can’t believe we just did that,” he says, sighing out an exasperated laugh.

“i know, what the fuck, right?” you giggle.

“are you- are you doing anything right now?” he asks. “like, do you wanna get food or something?”

“are you asking me on a date?” you ask teasingly.

“don’t tell me you decided you’re creeped out by the drawing now,” he laughs.

“yeah. suuuper creeped out,” you joke, leaning in for another kiss. you hear a noise behind you, and look out through the security shutters to see a mall security guard passing by, scrolling through his phone.

“looks like he just missed the show,” mark says, causing you both to try and hold back your fit of giggles.

a/n: thank u guys for reading! i rly enjoyed this one hehe :-) please leave feedback as i'm new to writing, and reblog to support me! it motivates me to write more!

✰taglist✰ @skz1-4-3 @oddracha @luvbit3z @tunafishyfishylike @seomisaho @haizbby @hoeforalbedo @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna

add me to the taglist!

#mark lee #mark lee smut #nct mark smut #nct dream smut #nct 127 smut #nct smut #nct x reader #mark smut #mark lee x reader #nct imagines #nct hard thoughts #mark x reader

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caffeinatedvigilantewriter · 1 month ago

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Danny is 18, and is on the run from Vlad, who wanted to reattempt his cloning plot. In order to do that, he had to see why Dani was the only cloning that managed to survive. Sam, Tucker,the Fentons and Jazz are dead

So he kidnapped her, and in the process, Dani deaged to an infant. Currentlyx they were both nearing Gotham, and, the GIW were on their tail

Danny made it all the way to Bristol before he had to stash Dani in a alley and deal with the GIW agents

Danny doesn’t return.

An hour later Thomas and Martha Wayne were out for a walk with their one month old son when the heat faint cries of a baby from an alley.

They enter the alley and see an infant girl wrapped in a blanket covered with stars. Her only belongings were a green thermos, vials of bright green liquid and a red beanie with the name ‘Danielle Jane’ scrawled on it.

Normally they would’ve reported this to the police, but everyone knew that the police was corrupted and the fosters homes were horrible.

Besides, there was something about the girl that seemed… otherworldly.

So, the took her in.

Teh next week, the Gotham Gazette was printing papers with the front page ‘Wayne family reveals female twin, Danielle Jane Wayne!’

They had pretended that Danielle was the twin that they didn’t know about until the due date and she came out sickly, so the doctors kept her in the hospital until she recovered.

As they grew up, Dani and Bruce were inseparable, with Dani not remembering her halfa side and Bruce not knowing they weren’t twins. They looked similar enough anyway.

All that change when the twins were 8. Thomas and Martha died, and the pain, shock and grief triggered Dani’s memories of being a halfa. The death kick started Bruce’s quest for vengeance (Dani wouldn’t seek vengeance, she couldn’t, not after Dan)

They began to drift apart. Bruce didn’t tell her about his vigilante plans and Dani didn’t tell him about her halfa status.

By the time they were 19 and Bruce dropped out of collage, they both began traveling. Bruce to train, Dani to have fun.

Dani continued traveling when Bruce returned, promising to visit. Eventually Gotham forgot about the Wayne Heiress, especially as Batman appeared and Bruce adopted more children. Bruce also forgot to tell his kids about their ‘bio’ aunt

There are a couple ways the Batkids could find out about Dani

- Bruce gets lost in the Time stream and Alfred was deemed too old to get custody and Dick was deemed too young. No one knows what to do now, until Alfred calls in Dani, who arrives and immediately gets custody, reminding Gotham that she exists.

- a batkid is cleaning out the attic/empty rooms as a punishment and finds the Fenton thermos, ecto vials, and baby blanket.

Batkid (probs Dick): Bruce why do you have Lazarus pit water in your attaric??

Everyone: …

Bruce: … what?

Alfred: ah, those are your sisters

Bruce: where did Dani get Lazarus water? She hasn’t been at the Manor in years

Batkids: …we have an aunt???

Alfred: Martha and Thomas found her in an alley with those belongings. She seems to have forgotten to collect them. I shall give her a call.

Bruce: …Dani isn’t my twin sister?

Batkids: YOU HAVE A TWIN??!?

Bruce: WELL APPARENTLY NOT @jc-llex

- Bruce and the JLA are breaking into a GIW facility to get evidence for a murder (a collage boy named Daniel Fenton) and found Dani breaking in at the same time

-Dani ends up dating a JLA member and said member introduces her to the team (bonus points if it’s Hal or Diana)

- SO MUCH ANGEST AND CRACK AND FLUFF COULD BE FIT UNTO THIS PROMPT D O Y O U S E E T H E V I S I O N ? ? ?

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nikkashidashipper · 1 year ago

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ive been having just an atrocious time falling asleep and sleeping can you tell by the reblog sprees happening at nearly the same time every day/night for the past two weeks

#its one of those times when youre all good. all of you is good.#then your physiology you fucks itself and takes your mental health you and your physical you and your mental rational you and y #and your mental irrational you with it and suddenly youre really not having a good time #yeah so. been having fun here dont mind me #bonus content for anyone who reads this far. ive been on t for almost 8 months now and my period still hasnt gone.#i can only like handle one more month maybe then in going in there with those pasta tongs. click clack bitch get the fuck out

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reiderwriter · 6 months ago

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♤ I Can't Help Myself ♤

“Look, Spencer. I probably have nothing against you personally. But I've just been conned into another three months of probationary minimum wage because your boss at the Bureau decided he wanted rid of you for a month or two. Some of us didn't get child genius scholarships for multiple PhDs and aren't receiving two paychecks right now.” “If money is an issue, Y/N, you know I could-” “No. No, stop butting into my personal problems. We can be civil, but we're not… we're not friends, Spencer.” You stepped back and let out another sigh as you forced the words to stand between you. “Okay. I'll stay out of your way.” “Great. Looking forward to it.” “Sure. Me too.”

Synopsis: Just when you think everything is going right for you, Spencer Reid walks into your life and ruins everything. Stealing your job and half of your office, you can manage, but you won't let him steal your heart as well.

Warnings (possible spoilers): Enemies to lovers, academic rivals to lovers, slight age gap, Professor Reader x Professor Spencer, eventual smut, unplanned pregnancy.

A/N: Welcome to my new series! This one specifically is dedicated to the one anon in my inbox that has been asking only for enemies to lovers for like 8 months now, but also to anyone who is a great enemies-with-benefits-to-lovers fan!

Masterlist || 5k Celebration Challenge

T A G L I S T

Chapter One - Puppet on a String

Chapter Two - Four In The Velvet Morning

Chapter Three - Satisfaction Feels Like a Distant Memory

Chapter Four - Here Isn't Where I Wanna Be

Chapter Five - In Case I'm Mistaken

Chapter Six - Wished Away Entire Lifetimes

Chapter Seven - The Thrill of the Chase

Chapter Eight - 1/7/24

Chapter Nine - 8/7/24

Chapter Ten - 15/7/24

Epilogue One - 22/7/24

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

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theonottsbxtch · 4 months ago

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Can we get part 2 of secret sister by any chance? loved it

Secret Sister Part Two | OP81

a/n: i need you to know that i sat in my bed giggling and kicking my feet when i saw this and i’m currently sat in the airport at 6:35 am giggling writing this 🤍

fc: sophia birlem & pinterest photos

requests: open

ynnorris

liked by oscarpiastri, yourbestfriend, mclaren and 1826 others

hungry for hungary 🦁

*tap to load comments*

yourbestfriend: that caption gave me the ick

ynnorris: you love me

yourbestfriend: i really don’t know why i do

userone: shes going to watch the gp!!!

usertwo: begging for cute oscar photos

userthree: look at her watching quali 🥹

logansargeant: first gp?

ynnorris: yessir

logansargeant: enjoy!

userfour: why is oscar holding her upside down?

oscarpiastri: dragging her away from build a bear

ynnorris: you and i are not friends anymore

landonorris: there is NO way i just found out you’re coming to the gp VIA INSTAGRAM

f1wags

liked by userone, usertwo, userthree and 9,782 more

new spotting in the paddock! lando norris’ newly revealed sister and oscar’s girlfriend👀? lando introduced his sister to the world on her 21st over 8 months ago for safety and privacy reasons. her and her brother’s teammate hit it off quite quickly after that, making his first move in norris’ comment section. the two of them keep their relationship as private as they can but we can’t deny that when they do feed us the crumbs, we love all of it. according to yn, this is her first ever gp. can’t wait to see oscar and her together!

*tap to load more comments*

userone: has anyone checked in on lando?

yourbestfriend: he’s throwing up in the toilet rn

usertwo: it’s nine months of their relationship in a week plz😭

yourbestfriend: he still complains

userthree: ahhh cant wait to see her!

userfour: hopefully i meet her 🙂

userfive: the IT couple

ynnorris

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, yourbestfriend and 8,462 more

so so proud of my boys <3

*tap to load more comments*

oscarpiastri: love you 🤍🧡

userone: someone tell her she’s gotta pick a side

usertwo: mclaren did lando so dirty

userthree: guys she can support both her brother and boyfriend

userfour: dickrider

landonorris: love you lil sis x

userfive: how can you post this knowing mclaren stole a win off your brother and gave it to your boyfriend

*comments have been disabled*

oscarpiastri

liked by ynnorris, landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 16,837 others

my first f1 win, couldn’t have done it without a lot of people but my pr manager said i had to keep this short and sweet

*tap to load more comments*

ynnorris: congratulations my love 🤍🧡

landonorris: congrats mate!

userone: you were done so dirty oscar

usertwo: lando deserved that win

userthree: fuck mclaren

maxverstappen1: well deserved!

userfour: lol

*comments have been disabled*

landonorris

liked by ynnorris, oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1 and 19,268 more

well deserved win for osc, spa next 🔜

*comments have been disabled*

phone call between lando and yn

l: yn? are you okay it’s 3am?

y: lando i’m scared

l: what’s wrong? are you in your hotel room?

y: i’m in oscar’s but i don’t want to wake him up, i’m in the bathroom

l: what’s wrong?

y: i keep recieving really mean messages and even some death threats, i should have listened to you and not made my account public i’m so sorry for not listening to you lan-

l: yn it’s okay, it’s not your fault, unfortunately this is what comes with this sport.

y: i’m scared

l: listen i want you to wake up oscar and tell him how you’re feeling right now. he’ll be able to comfort you right now, tomorrow morning we’ll speak to our pr and see what they say but try and get some sleep, wipe your tears and wake osc up okay?

y: i’m so sorry

l: you didn’t do anything wrong, i’m sorry you’re feeling the brunt of our stuff.

y: love you lan

l: love you ynn

oscar’s hotel room 3:17am

Picking herself up off the floor, yn glanced at her reflection in the dimly lit mirror. She wiped away the tears that had been streaming down her cheeks, wincing slightly at the redness that had set in. She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself, and attempted to make her face look presentable. With a final sigh, she opened the bathroom door and stepped into the dark bedroom. Her eyes softened as she took in the sight of Oscar, lying peacefully in bed, his face serene and calm.

Despite the turmoil inside her, she couldn't help but smile at how adorable he looked, lost in his dreams. Pushing her guilt and insecurities aside, she made her way over to his side of the bed. Gently, she reached out and tapped his shoulder. "Osc."

Oscar stirred slightly, his eyes remaining closed. "Yeah?" he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. "You okay?"

Yn hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to begin. "I..." she faltered, then continued, "No, not really." Oscar opened his eyes just a fraction, enough for her to see the concern etched in his sleepy gaze. "I saw what people were saying about me online, and—"

Before she could finish, Oscar reached out and pulled her into the bed beside him. She sat at the edge, struggling to hold back more tears as he gently took her hand, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. He let out a soft, disappointed sigh. "I'm so sorry you had to see that."

"It's not your fault," she replied, shaking her head.

"And it's yours?" he countered gently. The way he said it made her realise how misplaced her thoughts had been. "Come here." He pulled her into his arms, and she nestled against him, feeling the warmth and safety of his embrace. Oscar held her tightly, as if trying to shield her from the cruel world outside.

"They were really mean," she whispered, her voice cracking.

"I know," Oscar murmured, his breath warm against her bare shoulder. "Unfortunately, it's something we drivers get used to, but it's always rough for someone new to the world of F1."

She let out a small, breathy laugh. "Talk about being new to the world, quite literally." A faint smile tugged at her lips. "Lando said he’d talk to his team tomorrow."

"We'll talk to the team tomorrow," Oscar corrected softly. He pulled back slightly, just enough to look into her eyes. "Hey, how about you tell me about your new project? You haven't mentioned it yet." His tone was gentle, encouraging, as if trying to distract her from her worries.

Yn looked at him, her heart swelling with love. The tears that had threatened to spill moments ago were now replaced by a shy, bashful smile. "Have I ever told you I love you?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Oscar's eyes sparkled with affection. "Once or twice, I'm sure, but definitely not enough."

A warm, contented feeling settled over her. "I love you, Osc."

He smiled, leaning in to kiss her forehead tenderly. "I love you too, more than anything." He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and added, "No matter what anyone says, you are amazing, and I'm so proud of you."

ynnorris

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, yourbestfriend and 8,172 others

this past weekend was tough on both mclaren drivers, decisons were made and oscar and lando are both excellent and talented drivers. lando is my brother and oscar is my boyfriend and best friend, there will never be a day where i chose between the two of them when they’re on a podium. i love them both so deeply and i will never pick a favourite.

*comments have been disabled*

oscarpiastri

liked by ynnorris, landonorris, logansargeant and 19,632 others

spa next weekend and summer break with this one

*only some users may comment*

landonorris: good riddance, she’s driving me up the wall

yourbestfriend: why are you always carrying her like that?

oscarpiastri: she can’t be trusted with money

ynnorris: love you 🤍🧡

#f1 #f1 smau #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #mclaren #oscar x you #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri smau #lando norris #lando norris sister #oscar piastri fluff #lando norris fluff #fluff #x reader

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murdrdocs · 10 months ago

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FOOLISH LOVERS. luke castellan

description. luke castellan has betrayed camp half blood. luke castellan has made an enemy out of those around you. and unfortunately, luke castellan has always held a place in your heart that you can't close off. at least, not until you meet with him one final time.

includes. SMUT 18+, fem!reader, daughter of hypnos reader, oral (f and m receiving), brief anal rimming (f receiving), implied p n v, dreamscape sex again, angst galore, some arguing, references to pjo ep 8. inspo from wicked game by chris isaak

wc: 5.8k+

a/n: a dreamcatcher: daughter of the god of dreams installment.

Before you can realize the change, you’re standing on a hill.

It takes you a second to notice, but the area is much like your dreamscape. Low, waving blades of grass that travel through the air with the wind brushing against your bare ankles. The ocean is loud and to your right, down beneath a steep cliff. From just a quick glance, you see a storm brewing off into the distance. The water swirls angrily as if it’s ready to disrupt anything that dares to come into its path.

You can’t help but think about the betrayed son of the sea god back in reality who surely feels the same.

When you take your eyes away from the entrancing scenery of the ocean, you notice a cabin directly in front of you. It’s small, and made from long wooden logs, although there isn’t a forest nearby to identify the source of the frame. The exterior is slightly shabby, appearing manmade with a few imperfections.

It’s not on a comparable scale to the cabins back at Camp Half-Blood, but something about it feels cozy. It gives implications of a simpler life. Maybe what summer camp could have been if you weren’t the offspring of a god.

That and the clouds rumbling with warnings of an approaching storm is what encourages you to seek refuge in the four walls.

Step by step, you don’t fail to notice how a focus subject has yet to appear.

Your hand wraps around the doorknob and you push the slab of wood open as you wonder who’s dream you could have been pulled into tonight.

You haven’t even stepped foot over the threshold, you have started to convince yourself that this is the dream of the son of the sea god, and then someone speaks.

“Hey.”

You stop.

Your foot hovers for a second before you place it back beside the other.

That voice. You hadn’t heard it for months now, but you know it. Day after day, you lay at night with your eyes closed, cementing the memory of the way he spoke and how he sounded as he laughed at your jokes into your mind. Forcing yourself to recall the inflections in his tone as he teased you, and how his words flattened out and got hard when he gave orders to yourself and others. And then, completely involuntarily, you would force yourself to pick through every single intonation and word that you could remember, attempting to find signs. Any hints or clues that Luke Castellan wasn’t the person he made himself out to be.

Each night, you grapple with the fact that you couldn’t find any clues. You tried to reconcile with your blindness, all while telling yourself that you could have attempted to prevent it all.

But hearing his voice now, none of that returns. Unexpectedly, your body floods with warmth.

Luke sits on a small loveseat. The shape of it is a bit of a blur at first, but you blink and it cleans up to present a busy patterned textile couch. It’s well loved, there are a few tears in the bottom of the fabric at the back, and if you’re smelling it correctly, there’s a slight waft of cigarette smoke.

Strangely enough, it’s inviting.

You hate to admit it to yourself, but the boy sitting at one end of it makes it even more inviting.

You step into the cabin and close the door behind you.

“Hey, Luke.”

He turns around to face you at the sound of your voice. You sound stronger than you expected. More casual, too.

You realize that he’d been looking out a large set of windows before facing you. There’s only two but they take up most of the small wall. Outside is a perfect view of the land you’d just come from; bright green grass in the foreground and deep blue salt water off into the distance.

Luke stares at you.

The cabin is a little dark—there’s a lamp in the far corner that illuminates the room, washing out the otherwise blue light from outside—but you think his eyes are shining. As if there’s unshed tears barely held within them.

He smiles at you. It’s soft and almost mournful.

You should leave.

You shouldn’t be fraternizing with Luke at all, even if it is within a dreamscape. You couldn’t trust yourself in a room with him, especially with the things the two of you used to do when you were in dreamscapes alone.

Just looking at him reminds you of all of those times. Sweat sticking his hair to his forehead. The feeling of his muscles beneath your inquisitive hands. The deep and smooth sound of his voice. The way everything felt so real and so tangible as he rocked into you, and then as euphoria swept over your bodies you felt so infinite and surreal.

Your teeth find your lower lip. Your body urges you to get closer to Luke. Stubbornly, you stay in your spot.

“What d’you think?” He lifts a finger and circles it around in the air. Your eyes lift and you finally take in the rest of the cabin.

The main room is spacious, but comfortable. Lightly furnished with hardwood floors. Though almost every surface is covered in some sort of rug, most of them persian. There’s a small kitchen to your left, and then the living area that Luke sits in on the right. There’s a few bookshelves but there aren’t many books on them, and there’s a fireplace that looks to have never been used before. A few picture frames sit on the mantle of the fireplace, but from afar they just appear to be showcasing blobs of people without any distinctive features to identify an identity.

Admittedly, for this to be the created dreamscape of the son of a messenger, it’s impressive.

You tell him as such.

This time, Luke’s smile is appreciative.

“Means a lot coming from you. Especially with the things you can create.”

Your skin heats up and you block the memories out of your head before they can firmly cement themselves once more.

“You might have me beat, Castellan. Giving me a run for my money.”

You don’t know why you decide to fall into the old routine with him. Maybe it’s because you can’t push Luke away for the life of you. He was once your friend and so much more at the same time. It’s impossible for you to completely forget the times you shared together.

Maybe it’s the home making you feel this way.

How comfortable it feels. How protective it is.

You’ve spent weeks pulled into unfortunate dreams. Nightmares have plagued even the toughest minds of Camp Half Blood as of late, and you’ve been unable to fortify your own mind enough to prevent slipping into the mind of others. Which has left you to fight against unbeatable monsters, fortify the barriers of Camp only to have them knocked down by Zeus over and over again, watch those you love die in horrible battles, and much much more.

In comparison, there is the possibility of a simple conversation with Luke Castellan giving you what you’d been desperately missing even if you wouldn’t admit it to yourself: Luke’s company.

It’s how you reason with yourself whenever you take a seat atop the cushion of the couch. Instantly, it feels as if you’ve never truly known comfort before. This couch conforms to the curves of your body. You lean back against it, pull your feet up with you, and you quickly decide to stay a little while longer.

Up close, Luke looks even prettier than you remember. Dark curly hair a little more grown out, unruly and hanging over his forehead like low hanging fruit, begging for you to latch onto it. His face looks a little slimmer as if he’s lost weight, and the angular planes of his cheekbones and jawline accentuates the dark shadow he has along his chin. The mark of facial hair that was previously present. Beneath his clothes—a faded black, almost gray hoodie, and black sweatpants—he appears larger. His shoulders wider, his neck thicker, his wrist and hands veiner.

(Compared to his covered body, you feel bare in nothing but long socks, and a matching shorts and tank top set.)

He looks virtually the same, but his aura is different. There’s more confidence in him, a larger ego, glory even, that wasn’t there the last time you’d seen him. You know what has caused the change, and it should be something you despise. But his new glory makes him more attractive. It dries out your tongue and lodges something in your throat, pushing it further down until it sits heavy in your stomach.

“Thought this could be our new spot.” Luke speaks softly, almost in a scared whisper, as if he fears that you’ll reject him.

(You don’t know if you could ever reject Luke)

Your eyebrows furrow. “Our spot?” Confusion drips off of your words.

Luke nods once. He licks over his lips and you’re quick to peel your eyes away from the sight and back to his eyes. That’s not helping you much either so you instead try to figure out what books are on the shelves afar.

Since the little amount of time that has passed, there have been a few more added. From the ones that have already been there, the titles are too far away, too dream disoriented, and your dyslexia hasn’t escaped this dream, but you think you find novels on Seeing. Guides on how to decipher the visions that come to humans, or how to channel them.

You focus back on Luke.

“Yeah. Like the old bedroom. But a little more …” he hesitates to find the word then lands on, “Casual.”

The bedroom.

Your lower stomach stirs at the mention of it. The large bed, how warm it always was in there, the cold leather of the couch, the things the two of you did to each other on all surfaces.

This spot is definitely a lot more casual. You’re not instantly compelled to straddle Luke here, although you do have a few thoughts about throwing your legs over his right now and reconnecting in ways you’ve missed since he left.

So badly do you want to agree. This could be the one place where you get to experience what you’ve been missing without anyone else knowing. This is the only place where you can see Luke without anyone else knowing.

But it’s wrong.

He’s the cause of all of this. He’s caused the nightmares you’ve been pulled into. He has betrayed everyone on levels you could have never imagined. And who’s to say that he won’t betray you again.

“We won’t need a ‘spot’, Luke.” Briefly, his eyes flash as if he’s hurt but in your eyes, Luke has proven himself to be a formidable actor as of late so you ignore it. “This is a one time thing.”

A moment passes. And then another.

You turn to watch the sea out in the distance. It appears as if the ocean has lulled for the time being. The sky is still dark, but it has yet to deepen in color.

Luke takes a breath and you give him your attention again.

“Why won’t you join me?”

His eyes flash betrayal, his lips twist into something sorrowful.

Your answer comes easy. The same one you’ve told yourself over and over again, night by night when you considered reaching out to him.

“Because it’s not right, Luke.”

When he stands, his newfound power becomes even more clear. It leaks from his pores, spews from his mouth with his words.

“How could it be ‘wrong’ when you feel the same. All that time you spent telling me about your father. How neglected you felt. What happened to that?”

Your head shakes. You stand, too, evening out the field for both of you.

“This is not what I meant. I–” The words don’t find you. Luke takes notice.

“You what? Love your father? Love the gods? After how they treat you. How they treat us.”

“Don’t say ‘us’. We aren’t together, Luke.”

That same look flashes in his eyes once more. He takes a step forward, you take one back.

He doesn’t say anything. You watch his hand reach behind his back.

“What, are you gonna fight me like you did with Percy?”

His head shakes. His eyes harden. He pulls his hand back and it comes up empty.

“He attacked first.”

Your voice starts to rise. “And you tried to kill him, Luke. He’s twelve. What don’t you understand about that? ”

“Twelve and a forbidden child. In the grand scheme of things, his age doesn’t matter. He’s powerful. More powerful than both of us combined.”

“So is that why you tried to kill him? Because he’s a threat?”

“I don’t want to have this conversation with you. Not here. Not now.”

“Yeah? Well then when? And where? Because this is the last time you’ll be seeing me, Luke.”

“Okay.”

Your eyebrows raise. Disbelief paints over your features. You’d expected more of a fight. For Luke to disagree or attempt to convince you to return to him a few more times after this. Maybe that’s what you wanted. Maybe you wanted him to convince you that you needed him. Maybe you wanted to hear him tell you that he needed you.

Either way, your reply is the same as his.

“Okay.” You turn and take the few steps it takes to get to the door.

Your chest heaves with large gulps of air in and small breaths of letting them out. Your body is buzzing, the same feeling you would get before sparring with Luke. The same feeling you would get before your bodies joined together.

You tell yourself to reach out for the door handle. You tell yourself to lift your arm, connect your hand with the metal, and pull it open. You tell yourself to return to your own dreamscape, maybe even reality, and forget any of this ever happened.

Maybe you would’ve done it if Luke hadn’t spoken.

“You can walk out that door but that won’t change how you truly feel.”

He doesn’t add on. You don’t move.

“And how do I feel?”

The adrenaline is overwhelming you. You need to expel it out of your body somehow.

As Luke is speaking, you’re already approaching him.

“I’m sure I don’t need to answer that for you.”

When he speaks, it’s with arrogance. His confidence is heavily laced in his words, overflowing until it drips out into the air and lodges in your chest. Running through your body and down to your fingertips. It annoys you, makes you want to battle it out with him in a fight you’re sure to lose.

Your feet thud against the floor with each step until you’re close enough to cup his cheeks in both of your hands and pull his face down to yours.

There’s no hesitation in the kiss from either side. As if both of you were expecting it to happen eventually.

Luke kisses you back vehemently, his lips messily sliding against yours as he presses into the center of your back, accentuating the curve and drawing your chest into his. His free hand glides down your side to your hips. He circles to your back, dragging his palm down to rest over the curve of your ass. He grips the flesh through the soft fabric of your shorts, digging his blunt nails in before continuing his hand—open palmed—down to grip the back of your thigh.

His other hand mirrors his previous actions until he has a hand on either thigh. He tugs once, and you collaborate to wrap your legs around his waist and hook your ankles behind his back. Your hands dig into his hair, and your core tightens as you prepare to continue holding yourself up. But Luke takes most of the load.

He places his hands on your bottom to keep you lifted. You expect him to walk you back to the couch, or maybe pin you to a wall. But he doesn’t.

He holds you against him in the center of the living room, kissing you like he’ll never get to kiss you again. You don’t fail to realize how he likely won’t.

His tongue slides against yours, your teeth knock together at least twice, both of you refuse to pull away to breathe which results in heavy exhales through your noses against the skin of the other cheek.

While it may be uncoordinated, it’s not primal.

There’s copious amounts of longing beneath each pass of your tongues against each other. There’s human emotion behind the way you tug on his hair and how he uses one hand to pull your hips closer to him. There’s raw longing in the soft sighs and gasps you both let out into the other’s mouth, taking it in and replicating the noises over and over again.

When you finally do part, it’s with a wet, pronounced smack.

“Luke,” you gasp his name before you can realize it’s happening. One of your hands moves from his hair to hold his cheek. Your fingers spread around his ear and your thumb probes into his jaw.

He hums, his eyes still shut.

“I want you,” you admit.

You watch the smile spread across his lips, his eyes flickering open to look into your soul.

“Took you long enough to admit it.”

You suck your teeth and roll your eyes. Your other hand, previously resting on his shoulder, slaps his bicep.

“Don’t be an asshole about it.”

He laughs as he apologizes, knocking his forehead against yours. “Sorry, pretty girl.”

He takes a moment.

When he speaks, his eyes are nothing but earnest. His words are slow and careful, despite how simple they are. They fill your chest with warmth. They comfort you, possibly in slight delusion as you instantly believe him without caring about what repercussions his promise could come with.

“You have me. Always have. Always will.”

You’re quick to surge forward.

Luke is quick to reciprocate.

This time, he walks you back to the couch. He settles you on it carefully, not lifting his hands from your bottom until you’re seated securely along the loveseat and pulled to the edge by his hands hooked under your knees.

His own knees dig into the rug beneath the furniture. His head is tipped up to continue kissing you, this one lacking the over enthusiasm from before. Now, he takes his time, having confessed his desire to be with you as long as you’ll let him.

It’s not long until he pulls away and trails his lips down, kissing along your decollete, not stopping when he comes in contact with the fabric of your small shirt. He presses his lips into the fabric firmly, as if he’s trying to reach your skin beneath the layer.

You feel the pressure he has beneath each kiss as he trails down, and you arch into his touch, excitement spreading through your lower half whenever Luke digs his fingers into the elastic of your shorts and pulls them off of your legs before he even reaches there.

You’re quick to leave your legs open, even going as far as to spread them a little more to give Luke more room.

His wide shoulders fill the space. They nudge against your knees and instead of letting you spread your legs even more, he throws them over his shoulders, effectively caging himself in with your limbs.

If the small smile on his face is anything to go by, he’s happy about his position.

You’re still wearing your panties. Your hands trail down to get rid of them, but Luke stops you with a hand on your lower abdomen.

“Let me,” he tells you, voice soft and light.

You remove your hands and do as told. It’s a simple system you have worked out, Luke slowly but surely working his way down to where you want him. He's eager, and you know he wants himself there as much as you do.

It’s strange what desire could make you do.

You’ve never been anything but loyal to Camp Half-Blood. To both of your parents. And in normal circumstances, you wouldn’t allow yourself to do this.

But you’ll simply have a final time with Luke. That’s it. Sharing your body with him, and having his body shared with you, won’t make you forget his transgressions.

As your panties are pulled off of your legs, and your skin is once again placed above the thick fabric on the shoulders of his sweatshirt, you tell yourself that this won’t change anything.

You’ll never be able to forget what he has done. What he’s planning to do.

Except, perhaps, you can push it aside for as long as you’ll have to while you let yourself get lost in his touch.

The first pass of his tongue is a long stripe between your folds. He spreads you open with his thumbs, pulling at the skin on either side to expose your center. Then he flattens his tongue and licks up from your entrance to your clit.

He puckers his lips, sucking twice before flicking his tongue against the bud.

Your hands card through his hair, ignoring the way your fingers get stuck on a few stubborn curls that refuse to separate in favor of grounding yourself. It feels too good, and you haven’t been in this position for too long. There’s nothing you fear more right now than getting too lost and waking up in the real world before you’re even satisfied.

Luke brings his attention back down to your entrance where he laps up what you’ve been leaking. He groans, peeling his mouth away and you stare down at him, entranced by how grateful he looks.

Eyes closed, face completely relaxed, his scar laid flat against his cheek, his pink lips parted and glistening.

He looks ethereal. The sight is addicting.

“Missed this so much,” he admits, tongue flickering out to lick the remnants of your arousal off of his lips.

You feel the same, but you refuse to tell him that. Instead, you scrape your nails at his scalp lightly and shuffle your hips, hoping that alone is enough to capture Luke’s attention again.

Either he catches the memo or he had the same idea as you because his lips are right back between your legs.

You’d expected him to behave like a man starved, licking and sucking your cunt like you would disappear any moment. Instead, he takes his time with you. He utilizes the best part about being in a dreamscape: the lack of concrete time.

He savors the taste of your cunt, and the little sounds you make. His fingers press into the tops of your thighs as he holds them down against his shoulders to prevent you from squirming. His nose nudges against your clit and digs into the short hair you have on your mound.

He presses his tongue everywhere that he can, sometimes even sliding further down to rim areas still unexplored. Each time, you would tense up just a little less, until eventually you were trying to subtly urge his head further down for him to do it just one more time.

And when he does, that’s when the coil in your lower belly gets as tight as it could get, just before snapping from the tension. You would have warned him. Or, maybe you did. You were so focused on getting there that any words that came out of your mouth weren’t even considered. You weren’t aware of anything other than your mouth moving at the same speed as your hips as you dragged your cunt against Luke’s face, using him to guide your orgasm to full completion.

As soon as your hips stop twitching you swing your legs off of his shoulders and slide to the floor beside him. You pull your shirt off, then do the same for Luke, throwing both of your tops off to the side.

Unsurprisingly, he’s not wearing another layer beneath the sweatshirt, allowing you to run your palms down his chest, feeling the familiar definition along his abdomen.

You sit in front of him with your legs folded underneath you, and since he’s on his haunches, he towers over you just a bit. You have to tilt your head up to kiss at his jaw and neck, your hands busying themselves with urging his sweatpants off of his hips.

Luke does the rest of the job for you, hesitantly pulling away from your touch to stand and slide his sweatpants off of his legs himself. You’re left on the ground, hands politely resting in your lap while you stare up at Luke with wide eyes.

He slowly reveals more and more of his legs until he’s wearing nothing but his briefs. They hug him well, like they always have. A prominent outline of the muscle definition in his thighs, elastic waistband hanging low enough on his hips for you to see the ‘V’ that connects his hips and abdomen. And of course, the tight material reveals the prominent boner confined within the crotch of his briefs.

You want to reach up and palm him. You want to pull the final layer off of him. You want to take his cock into your mouth and relax with the heavy and warm feeling of him against your tongue.

But you decide to be patient. And it’s worth it.

Luke slides his briefs off himself, never breaking eye contact with you as he throws them to join the rest of your clothing. His stare is strong and heavy as he spits into his hand and puts his dick into the same place, wrapping his palm around the center of it and stroking a few times.

There’s the prettiest, most picturesque bead of precum at the tip and you’re practically salivating just looking at it, praying deep down that Luke doesn’t run his hand over it so you can have it for yourself.

As if sensing your inner turmoil, Luke takes a step closer, holding the base of his cock right in front of your face, allowing you to get the perfect view of how his tip is a light pink around the almost clear drop of precum.

“You want?” he asks you simply, smiling a bit when you nod eagerly. “Then open.”

You’re quick to do as told, lacking any shame whenever you open your mouth and stick your tongue out. As soon as Luke presses his tip to your muscle, you wrap your lips around him and eagerly suck him clean.

Another good thing about the dreamscape is that everything either tastes like absolutely nothing, or like pure honey. And when you’re with Luke, things are usually the latter.

You start to get lost in it, enthusiastically beginning to suck Luke off even though you were only meant to be getting a taste.

You can see that Luke is close to commenting on it. His eyes shine like they do before he has something to say, but just when his lips part and he takes a breath to speak, you hollow your cheeks and sink as far down him as you can and any words he could have conjured up are suddenly gone.

He lets you do what you want, eyes fluttering shut and one large hand cupping the back of your head as you continue to suck him off. He lets out the smallest noises, pretty grunts and groans and sighs.

Luke was clearly just as wound up as you were. Within a couple of minutes he’s already starting to spew out praises like he does when he’s close. Some of them are fragments, broken words strung together in incomplete sentences.

“So … doing so .. you’re–” when you swirl your tongue at the tip and tease his balls just a bit.

“Gods, you’re so good at this,” when you jerk the majority of his dick with one hand and focus your mouth on his tip with the other.

“Close. So close. Almost there, dove” when you take all of him into your mouth once more, throat molding around the definite shape of him.

And when he cums down your throat, you’re so satisfied that you can’t help but moan unabashedly along with him.

You’ve only just swallowed his cum before his cock is pulled out of your mouth and he’s back on his knees in front of you.

His arms wrap around your waist, he pulls you into his lap, laying his head on your chest and just letting himself be.

Just existing.

After a couple of minutes, you stop expecting him to speak and decide to just exist too. Your breathing eventually matches up, in and out, in and out, over and over again in tandem. Outside, rain starts to thud against the roof of the small home. Distantly, there’s the faint sound of thunder, and you’re sure the ocean is swirling angrily.

None of that matters, though. You’ll be left to decipher the metaphorical meanings of it all later, when you aren’t coexisting in the shared warmth from you and Luke.

When he isn’t kissing the tops of your breasts and holding you securely in his arms.

Eventually, Luke does break the silence. His voice is low when he does, both in volume and tone.

“Can I have you? Just one final time?”

He talks into your skin without looking directly at you. But as you start to respond, you cup his cheeks and force him to look at you.

The entire time, you’ve been fighting this battle. Knowing you wanted Luke, knowing you wanted to be with Luke, but also knowing it was wrong. All of it was wrong.

But right here, right now, you let go. You nod unashamedly. You kiss his forehead then the tip of his nose then his lips, before landing on the bottom end of his scar.

You tell him, “Yes. Of course, Luke”, as if he didn’t even have to ask in the first place.

And truthfully, you don’t think he did.

‎

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

Luke is in the middle of pulling his sweatshirt back over his head when you speak. There’s a second where the fabric is hiding his face, slowly revealing the curls at the top of his head, then his dark eyebrows, and finally his eyes. They look as they have the entire time: despondent.

“I know you didn’t. Neither did I.” You have a feeling that neither of you are speaking about the same specific thing, but the overlap in your conditions is so wide that you don’t bother correcting him.

He reaches behind his back once more and when he pulls his hand back around, he has his camp necklace dangling from his fingers. He undoes the knot, and holds it open, waiting, until finally you turn around and let him delicately tie it around your neck.

Your hand touches the beads. You want to thank him, but it doesn’t feel right.

Instead, your lips twist into what you hope comes off as a thankful smile when you turn around. When Luke replicates it, you feel a little better.

There’s a moment, just a brief moment there where you’re both staring at each other and the memory of Luke’s hands and lips and tongue and his everything engrossing you, taking your everything and combining them together, is still fresh on your mind. The warmth of his eyes and the warmth of his camp necklace around your throat heals you. And you consider that your feelings for Luke were stronger than you ever forced yourself to acknowledge.

He was more than a close friend to you. More than someone you looked up to. More than someone you shared your body with in the dreamscape.

He was more.

It feels unfair for you to have these emotions. The wrongness of it all—your feelings for Luke Castellan, how he’d turned out—has rage fueling deep in your gut. With no one else to blame it on, you can’t help but briefly curse the gods.

For they were the ones to cause this. To instill deep hatred into Luke’s chest. To prevent either of you from ever having a normal life where you could live and breathe and love without the burdens placed upon you both.

A life where you wouldn’t have to love and lose someone like Luke.

But there’s nothing for you to do about it now.

You don’t want to leave. But your time together is up. You should’ve left a long time ago, and your choice to stay before resulted in something you could never take back.

You turn and walk to the door. And once more, Luke speaking causes you to stop.

“You are the only one who could make me change my mind.” He says it in a small whisper, as if he doesn’t want to admit it even to himself. As if he shouldn’t be admitting it at all.

‘Are’. His feelings for you still haven’t changed. You don’t know if they ever will.

Either way, you’re forced to change yours.

You don’t know what to say. So you don’t say anything. Your hand reaches for the doorknob. You take it in your palm, gripping and turning at the same time until the latch is undone.

The door opens and fills the room with the sound of rain falling. It’s loud and fills the empty space. Up until Luke speaks and the baritone of his voice joins it.

“This is it?”

You nod once. Luke’s scoff sounds painful. It’s bitter with an edge of hatred. Maybe disbelief.

It makes tears brim at your eyes. Your nose stings. Your throat feels as if it’s constricting with the effort to hold your tears back.

Luke takes a breath. You step one foot out of the door.

“Dreamcatcher,” he calls to get your attention, the nickname giving you that fuzzy feeling you used to get from just seeing him around camp. “We’ll be seeing each other again.”

And then your foot lands on the dry green grass of your own dreamscape.

Just a few hours later, you rise with the morning sun, sneaking off to the showers before everyone else to get rid of the stickiness between your thighs.

The dream might not have been real, but the evidence between your legs certainly was. Strangely enough, that and the additional chord of beads around your neck. You only notice it when you’ve undressed and stepped beneath the shower head, scrubbing at your skin and running into additional jewelry you hadn’t expected to have been there.

You take it off and slip it with the rest of your clothes as a keepsake, carrying it around in your pocket for only you to know about.

#lukesworld!#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan smut #celeste writes pjo

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evie-sturns · 8 months ago

Text

needed this - Matt Sturniolo

summary: after a month-long business trip, you finally return home to your boyfriend matt. you find out he hasn't came since you left, obviously you have to help him.

warnings: smut, very sub!matt, overstimulating, swearing.

-------------------°°••....••°°--------------------

i've been away with work for just over a month, meaning matt's had the house to himself, i'm finally arriving home this evening.

7:54pm

i twist the key into the white door, pushing it open. the scent i'm so used to filling my nose. "matt!" i call out, placing my bag down by the front door and bending over to unstrap my heels.

"i missed you." he says with a grin, speed walking up to me and wrapping his arms around me. i bury my face into his chest, "how was it?" he asks with a wide smile.

"it was good! how was the empty house?" i say, grabbing matts hand and dragging him upstairs.

"lonley as shit without chris and matt aswell, they've been filming with other creators for ages." matt says with a sigh as we walk into our shared bedroom.

"oh yeah, i saw that tara and shit meetup with them" i say, pulling my minidress off over my head.

i can feel matts eyes laying on me as i scavenge through our closet for anything comfier to wear, giving i've been in dresses for 5 weeks straight.

matt clears his throat, "movie?"

i nod, "yeah, yeah just pick whatever you want sweetheart."

matt flicks on the tv at the end of our bed, i unclasp my bra, letting it fall to my feet. i grab one one matts shirt, pulling it down past my head,

i jump into bed beside matt, my leg resting across his waist and lap as i cuddle to his side. the netflix intro blares through the room

"jesus christ!!" i laugh, grabbing the remote and turning down the volume. "my bad." matt says with a smile, shaking his head and pulling up the white fuzzy blanket over us.

8:23pm

i shift the leg which is laying across him, i feel matt grow tense under me, "you okay?" i whisper, looking up at him. "yeah- no yeah- yeah no i'm good." matt stammers, i laugh slightly,

"matt whats wrong?" i say with a giggle, "no- no yeah, shit i'm fine." he says again, his cheeks a deep red as he fidgets with his rings.

"matt." i say with a serious tone. "stop!- i'm fine!" he says, getting worked up.

i sit up in bed abrubtly, the blanket falling off my body, i look down at matts crotch,

hes hard.

he yanks the blanket up over his lap, i pull it back down and straddle his thighs, staring into his eyes. "why are you hard?" i ask quietly, "i'm not!" he instantly replies, his eyes drifting away from mine.

i palm him through his sweatpants, squeezing lightly, he lets out a breathless groan. "so.. what was that?" i tease him,

"i dont know? just your leg moving.." matt says, rubbing his eyes with his fists,

"you got hard from my leg?" i laugh slightly, he nods.

"thats okay." i assure him, reaching for his waistband and toying with it, his breathing intensifies quickly, "why are you so sensitive?" i ask, "just been different since you left a month ago" matt says quietly

"different like how?" i push,

"haven't- you know.." he sighs, "i don't know actually." i reply cheekily.

he doesn't reply, his eyes fixed on my hand which is resting just under his waistband. "tell me the last time you touched yourself" i say, matt goes redder somehow.

"month ago." he says, barely audible "thats okay." i say, tugging his waistband down. "please.." matt whines slightly, "i know." i say, pulling his waistband down to his mid-thighs.

"you want this?" i ask, lifting my self off his thighs to pull my panties off, "jesus, obviously." he says, i shoot him a 'watch your tone' look and he instantly goes quiet.

i sit up, hovering myself above matts tip, which is now red. his hands stay by his sides, i'm 95% sure his brain is so fogged he doesn;t know what to do with them anymore.

i grab his cold hands, placing them on my waist. i stay sitting above his tip for a few more seconds, its tempting to see how worked up i can get matt. he trys to guide me down, but i resist.

"please." he says, "matthew, stop whining and tell me what the fuck you want." i say, "please, you know what i want" matt says shyly, i stay still, waiting for him to practically beg.

"ride me, please?" he breathes out, i can see his stomach jolting up and down from his desperate breaths underneath his white sweater.

i nod, moving my hair to one side and slowly sinking onto matt, he squeezes his eyes shut, his hands dropping from my waist and balling up the white fuzzy blanket. i slowly take more of his length before bottoming out, sitting comfortably on his dick as matt lets out small whimpers

"you alright?" i ask, grabbing his hand which is squeezing the sheets.

he nods his head, "look at me, matt." i say, he opens his eyes, letting in small breaths. "calm. down." i say, he nods again as his top teeth sink into his pink bottom lip.

i slowly start to bounce on him, his eyes stay fixed on me as i quicken my pace. i throw my head back as i balance my hands on his thighs behind me.

"close- really close." matt squeezes out, "no, not yet matt." i tell him.

"i can't, oh my fuck-" he whines, his grip on my waist tightening, the cold metal of his rings pressing against the warmth of my skin.

"you can, and will." i say, placing a hand on his stomach to balance myself as i continue to ride him. he lets out soft groans as he throws his head back into the pillows, his hair flopping.

"your okay, your doing so well." i say with a small moan as I repeatedly hit my g-spot.

suddenly i feel matt release, coating my insides. matt rubs his eyes "did i tell you you could do that?" i say, looking into matts eyes.

"im sorry, shit- i'm so sorry." he rambles, instead of pulling off him, i chase my own orgasm. he groans from overstimulation, "too much, sensitive-" he says,

"is it my fault you came early?" i say as i sit down on his cock, rubbing my clit against his pelvic bone.

he shakes his head, somewhat arching his back off the bed as his hands dig into my waist. i let my head falll foward as i look down at matts hands,

"fuck it hurts." matt says,

we have an established safe word, he knows he can use it whenever he needs, but he's not.

"you want me to stop?" i ask, he pauses for a moment before letting out a breathless "no. fuck please dont-"

i continue to bounce on his length, i feel the pit in my stomach growing as my cheeks flush, matt has mutiple tears falling down his cheeks.

"i think i'm close-" matt says, my eyebrows twist with a small laugh "again?" i question, "yeah- shit." matt groans .

i clench around him, i think thats enough for matt to finish. the knot in my stomach snaps as i feel matt finish again. i collapse down onto matts chest as i attempt to catch my breath, he reaches down and pulls out of me with a wince.

"you okay? did i hurt you?" i say as i rest my face on matts shoulder.

"yeah- no im fine, needed that a lot." he says, his fingers tracing mindless shapes on my back.

after a handful of minutes i sit up on matts lower stomach before lifting myself off him, stepping down onto the plush of our carpet. "c'mon, lets get you cleaned up." i say, wiping matts face with one hand, matt stays still on the bed.

"matt? stand up" i say, matt has a small smile on his face, he wipes his eyes before starting.

"i cant.. stand."

----------------

#nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo #m

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pepperyduck · 1 month ago

Text

“oral report” with keigo takami

this is part seven!! of my kinktober event :3

word count: 1.8k

warnings: nsfw, oral, cunnilingus, first time oral. (18+ mdni)

notes: going to write so much angst when i get done w these…

kinktober masterlist | masterlist

keigo takami, better known as the pro-hero hawks, had stunned the world when he announced that he was now dating you, and up-and-coming hero new to the big city scene. at the time, you had only made a few, yet impactful, public scenes; only recognized as one of hawks’ sidekicks. your relationship was raged over, how inappropriate it was for him to date someone that worked for him. keigo had decided all the ones who hated were more jealous than anything, and he was right.

of course, dating hawks had it’s own up and downs, but there was no question that keigo was the most devoted lover you had been with. no matter how busy, he always made sure to keep up with you, to check on you. lavish date nights were every weekend, friday night at 8 o’clock. the world didn’t need him for the few hours he was with you. flowers sat on your desk each morning, along with your favorite coffee order and something to eat. jealousy is normal for things like this, especially when it comes to one of the most recognizable faces in japan.

something else the world was completely engrossed in and jealous over?

your sex lives.

there was no doubt about it, keigo was an absolute prodigy in bed. he was a mind altering experience in the sheets. and although he came off cocky and self-absorbed, there was nothing that got keigo off more than your pleasure. he could just tell you hadn’t been with anyone as good as him, and your body language with him boosted his ego enough by itself. but when you couldn’t help but spew how amazing he made you feel, that pushed him over the edge more than anything. maybe it was all selfish in the end.

however, keigo never understood your hesitation to let him give you oral. he let you go down on him, more than he’d like to admit, but he had never gotten the chance to reciprocate that pleasure. and there was nothing on this earth keigo takami loved more than eating pussy. when he was younger and whored around more, it was his favorite thing to do to all the girls he slept with. and he wanted to eat you, so bad he could taste it.

he asked repeatedly for months, and you always said you didn’t like it, that it was uncomfy for you. but really, you’d never even had your pussy eaten, and you only didn’t want to because you didn’t want to be judged. your taste, whether or not keigo would like it, was all you worried about. keigo didn’t bother with it anymore.

that was, until he had one particularly fucked day when you were off. you hadn’t heard from him all day, but you had taken the day to take care of yourself, even having time to take an everything shower. you felt fresh and pristine awaiting your boyfriend’s arrival in his apartment, in the soft robe he kept for you at his place. your hero stumbled through the doors dramatically, eyes locking on you in an instant.

“hi, baby!” you chirp from the expensive couch, leisurely sitting with your legs crossed, phone open with some thread talking about your boyfriend. he stomps over to you, throwing his gloves off and pushing his glasses up on his head. by the way he’s acting, it’s obvious to you he had a rough day. before you can even offer him anything to relax, though, he’s dropping to his knees in front of you, wings lazily spread out to block most of your vision.

“i want to eat you out, baby. please,” keigo begs, pawing at your thighs and the robe that covered them. his request makes you tense up for a moment, you were used to fucking some nights when he’d walk through the door, or even give him head, but never this.

“why don’t i do something to make you feel better?” you suggest, leaning down to catch your boyfriend’s lips in a quick kiss. surprisingly, he shakes his head no, only continuing to feel his way around your legs.

“no, i wanna taste you.”

you move back on the couch, disconnecting your legs from his hands. keigo can tell you’re nervous, unsure about such an intimate act, but right now, he’d do anything just to get his tongue on the sweetness in between your legs.

“what if...i taste bad? what if you don’t like it?” you question, trying to stall and convince him that maybe he doesn’t actually want to eat you out—but there’s a fire in the back of his eyes that says he’d determined. he won’t go anywhere until he gets what he wants.

“trust me,” keigo begins, grabbing your hand to kiss the back of it, “i’m gonna love it, no matter what,” and he drops his head to rest it on your thigh, “and you will, too. please, let me.”

needless to say, you couldn’t say no to your boyfriend anymore. not when, within record time, he had you sprawled out on his huge bed, kissing your body as he works his way down to the place he’d wanted a taste of, forever. his wings shudder when he gets in between your thighs, able to smell the arousal off of you, off of your sweet pussy he’d wanted to have like this. you yelp when he kisses over the fabric of your panties, sloppily trailing his lips and tongue all over the slit hidden by cheap cotton.

“what did you do today?” keigo asks, leaning back for only a second to pull off the pesky garment separating you from his mouth.

“u—um,” you mutter, going silent when he hungrily spreads your thighs open, looking at your folds like he hadn’t seen food in 10 years.

“tell me,” he softly demands, looking up at you with those gorgeous golden eyes—you melt. he kisses up the sensitive flesh, outright teasing you until you begin to speak.

“um, i—i woke up, at like, 9:30,” you slowly begin, labored breaths puffing out of your lungs.

“yeah?” mwah, “what else?”

it’s sick the way he enjoys seeing you so ravished and nervous, all over a little pussy eating. but he’d be lying to himself if he said it was easy to hold back right now. keigo can see that you’re dripping arousal at the compromised situation, and how desperate you are for a little contact—even if it’s something you were inexperienced with.

“and then, i made breakfast—keigo—,” you whisper his name as his tongue comes to swipe, just once, over your sensitive bundle of nerves. it sends shockwaves down your spine from how sensitive and aroused you are—it’s intoxicating, and you want more.

“what’d you have, pretty?” his voice is teasing, and his head rests upon your inner thigh again, waiting for you to answer him.

“i made—mm,” a light moan bubbles from your throat when his tongue swipes again, “a smoothie, and—and eggs,” your words draw themselves out, shaky and slow, as you fight the urge to shut your thighs around keigo’s head. his tongue traces tight small circles right on the tip of your clit—tender and attentively—he knows how much better it feels to start off slow, tame.

keigo threatens to stop his movements, slowly pulling away from you. it’s a game to him, really, to see how much you can take before you’ll never want it to end. and to think you were so scared about it—but keigo’s getting off on it more than you. shakily sighing, you swallow and continue speaking.

“then, i cleaned—i cleaned my apartment, some.”

keigo could laugh at your stammering, but instead decides to indulge you more. he lays his tongue flat and wriggles side to side, covering the upper half on your cunt entirely, before taking a long lick up. your legs shiver, his wings perk up, he notices the reaction and whimper you give and he does it again, and again. you squeeze your eyes shut, getting lost in how heavenly it feels, but keigo stops, shattering your pleasured trance. you whine.

“after that, i came over here,” you pause for a second when keigo’s tongue begins to lap at you again, “and—baby,” you whimper out for him again, dragging out the ‘y’ and lulling your head to the side, “cleaned here, too.”

“how sweet,” keigo coos, pulling back entirely from your cunt, “trying to keep my apartment nice to come home to, hm?”

“mm—mhmm!” you hum, the simple sound stuttering out as keigo dips his tongue down into your sopping hole, fucking you with his tongue. his nose nudges against your clit at the same time, warm muscle constricting inside of you, sending stars into your vision. “then i—showered, and shaved—,” you’re trying so hard to not let the pleasure overcome you. keigo can tell. he’s too good at this type of thing.

your thighs mindlessly spread wider, inviting keigo in even more. your hips stutter and barely grind on his face. the little stubble he keeps is rightfully soaked now, dripping with the arousal he conjured up so easily. you can feel his tongue all over you, lapping up and down your wet folds, paying extra attention when he gets to around your clit. he flicks and circles the bud and wraps his lips around it to suck lightly.

sweaty fingers of yours thread through his hair, knocking his glasses off, you’re pushing his head into you because it’s all so good. keigo’s wings stutter and move around a little, finding pleasure in the way you’re pulling his hair, the way you’re now grinding all over his face, losing yourself in the feeling. and losing yourself you are, as that knot grows in your abdomen towards your release.

“keigo,” you moan, so sultry and like you hadn’t ever before, “i’m gonna cum!” your voice is slutty, needy, and your boyfriend can’t get enough of it.

keigo hums something, muffled by your cunt, the vibrations sending a shock through your core. you mewl out a choked moan, loud, and it lets keigo know to not stop, keep going to get you there. he continues to mumble words into your cunt, sliding his mouth and nose all through your folds, shaking his head side to side vigorously to literally drown in the pussy. yours is the only one he’d drown in, of course.

with a nasty moan, you topple over the edge, it’s almost too much for you. your orgasm is intense, toes curling and hips stuttering, trying so hard to ride yourself through it. keigo takes a few more long licks through your folds, stopping when your thighs begin to shake from the overstimulation. he draws his head back from your cunt, a long string of arousal connecting to his chin, a lazy, satisfied smile on his face. cocky bastard.

“see, told you i’d like it.”

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